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yorsgirl · 1 month

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Yan!Heian!Sukuna and with Y/N?

Lately, whenever Darling got pregnant she ended up having countless miscarriages, the longest lasting at least 3 months, Sukuna began to suspect these countless coincidences.

He doesn't care about these losses since he didn't want to share Y/N with some brat, but he found it very strange that every time she got pregnant resulted in a miscarriage, so he started investigating and finally found out why this was happening.

He discovered that Y/N was causing her own miscarriages, as she knew that the last thing the world needed was Sukuna's descendants, so he finally confronts her but with that damn psychological terror that he loves to do to her.

Oh my, I love love love this idea!!

I kinda went out on this one, but I hope I did justice to what you were aiming at. Hope you like it :) Also I am sorry for being so late

Playing God

Yandere!Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: It was a gamble, he was willing to make. To keep you with him, forever, as he wanted. Needed. You had to realize that no other heaven except his arms would be comforting. Even if that meant, breaking your very soul.

Tropes: Dark Romance, horror, angst

Warnings: Implied nsfw(forced), mentions of pregnancy, miscarriage, abduction, cannibalism and isolation. Trauma, mild stockholm syndrome, yandere themes, minor character death(s), gore, gaslighting, manipulation, misogyny, blood, degradation(non-kinky), patriarchal society, unhealthy relationship, implied child birth.

General warnings: Yandere!True form!Husband!Sukuna, Wife!Reader, Heian Era, both Sukuna and reader are a red flag on their own, usage of nicknames, no mentions of y/n, not proofread.

Word Count: 9.7k ( Just when I thought AFW2 was long, I write this... I know its too much but trust me, I needed to. There was just so many things which I couldn't miss out.)

A/N: This is the first request which I worked on, so idk if I did it up to your standard. I sincerely apologize, if this isn't what you wanted. + I hope its similar to what you wanted. Thanks for the wait and request.

You were digging your own grave.

So you shouldn't have been surprised that your wish would be granted. Yet, if you could have one wish then you'd wish for freedom but no- freedom was a forfeited dream, far beyond your reach. Consideration of that one would never be fruitful. You are trapped even in your dreams.

Playing with fire only gets you burnt.

For long, you played this game and this- this was your compensation. For everything you had done until now, all you are returned with was abandonment. Not that supposedly, betrayal, yes. More appropriate.

Flames surrounded you, crawling up your skin, the screams piercing your ears, your chest heaved up and down. Gaze, once settled on your hearth, now all you saw was the burning hut, the crackling of embers reached your ears. Attire and hands stained with blood of the insolent. The warning shouldn't have been taken lightly. Should have known, the extent of his power.

Eyes held terror, fright, regret- whatever you could name. The multitude of names you received seemed no more than a distant dream, nowhere to be found. All were running away - expectable.

You expected calamity, but you were calm.

Everything went down in flames. Save for you, you weren't burning. Not an spark touched your skin. Was it the distance or the control? Who knows. But one confirmation which you held was that - tonight you won't die. Not so soon either.

Careful, not all Gods are worshipped.

The words rang in your ears and as if on cue, you found him again. In this reverie of madness, he held your sight when you attempted to turn - The eyes tinted with crimson.

"I am sorry for your loss, m'lady."

You had seen it all.

You had your fair share of encounters, received news and such. Women losing their mind and sanity after delivered with a news this devastating. Notably, no woman would feel any bliss after knowing that they had lost their child. Lost the chance of motherhood before experiencing it. Violent outbursts was the most probable outcome.

"This is a hard time," The midwife spoke softly. "Yet, you shouldn't neglect your health."

You perceived the softness to be fear. She must have had dealt with situations like these, most of them traumatizing, you assumed. Perhaps, she expected the same from you too. You tore your gaze off her, leaning back on your bedframe, "I'd like to be left alone."

Your declaration was answered with compliance. Offering a humble bow, she bid you farewell, walking out of your chambers. Once her footsteps seized, you finally let your guard down. Breathing out a sigh of relief, you laid back down on your bed.

"Good riddance," You muttered to yourself. Moments of such vulnerability wasn't rare – considering you were served with loneliness, lately. Save for the times you spent in the presence of Sukuna. His decree, one might say. Your attention shouldn't be wasted on anyone but him.You scoffed recalling his words. Involuntarily, your hand stroked your belly, the corner of your lip curled up.

Once a house to life, given by your husband; now lay vacant from your doing.

A twisted sense of pride swelled up in your chest, a wide grin stretching on your face. You were successful in your quest, again. Mercilessly, you uprooted the seed of your Husband's lineage. Perhaps, you've truly gone sick.

Yet, this revolt of feelings were miles lesser than the repugnant you encountered when you realized your first pregnancy. You were on the brink of clawing out the creature growing in your womb. You'd have torn it apart with while revelling in the joy of watching its blood drip down on the face of Earth. If not for Sukuna's presence in the room, you might've gone through it.

You lost a fragment of yourself, that day.

Throwing up countless times, dizziness, nausea, even losing your consciousness while walking down - no, they weren't pregnancy side effects. More so, the outcome of the stress accumulating in you.

Sickening. His kin you'd have cradled in your body. To have born and grow up into a revolting, merciless creature like his father. To take up place in your womb, your flesh and blood combined with his, a living proof of your plight - disgusting.

Never. You'd never let that happen.

You'd never succumb to such monstrosity.

You had already given up your freedom, your dignity, your alight life to Sukuna in exchange of the lives you held dear. The lives back in your ancestral village, home to your kin.

You were affirmed, an heir of Ryomen Sukuna would never be birthed from you.

Speak of the devil, he appears.

An overwhelming familiar aura surrounded your very being, the doors to your chamber slid open, your captor, your husband strolled inside. Even his mere presence held the malevolence in him. You attempted to rise from your position at his arrival.

"Sit." He commanded.

You silently obeyed his order, keeping your gaze settled on your lap, the energy had your stomach churning with trepidation; at times when you didn't do anything either. And this time, you were guilty. Two moments passed in silence until he spoke.

"I heard from the midwife."

You took in a sharp breath, swallowing a lump in your throat. It was the same ordeal, like the first two times. Yet, you were a tad bit calm since the previous encounters. Probably, due to the fact you were getting used to this role. In this past moons, you had developed into the wife, he was carving you out to be. Giving him just the reactions he wanted, for that saved you a lot of anguish and pain. Even if it came at the price of your self-respect. This was the only way.

With your head hung low, you spoke, "Forgive me, my lord. I am incapable of bearing you an heir. I-It must have been my fau-"

"Not another word."

You instantly stiffened up, his deep voice causing chills to run down your spine. Did you make an error? Was he aware of your tumultuous acts? Was the play not convincing enough?

He held your chin, forcing you to look up at him. All of his four, red eyes bore into you. You bit on your inner cheek, blood coursing in your veins - steadfast.

They say, your fear start to vanish once you've remained in the source of their vicinity too long. That statement is false. For even after staying with your captor for almost two years, you still held your fear.

"The one at fault bore consequences."

That's when you were hit with the faint stench of blood from him. Another one perished. You took the wild guess of it being the midwife. However, instead of amplifying fright, it was lessened. You wouldn't be on the receiving end of his wrath.

"You aren't at fault, wife."

Oh, but you were.

Sukuna held your gaze, cupping your cheek; the rough pad of his thumb trailed a line on your skin. His tone and grip were surprisingly gentle. "There's no need to apologize."

The corners of your eyes crinkled down, you lean into his touch. You assume, it's a good move as you noted the flicker of emotion in his eyes. "It's the third time, my lord. Perhaps, I bear some shortcomings."

"What nonsense," He rolled his eyes. "There's none, not in my eyes. Don't fill your head with such fickle thoughts." He paused for a moment before continuing, "Is that understood?"

He wasn't one for affirmations but maybe- just maybe it was his attempt at comfort, you supposed. The previous losses must had him learning, the threads of condolence. Still, for you, they'd never mean anything less than empty words. The last thing you wanted was to be comforted by your tormentor. You'd rather step into hell willingly.

But you were living under his wing. You have to play according to his whims. You nodded. "Yes, my lord."

His hand left your face, dropping to his thigh. He looked at you, as if sizing you up. You had to keep yourself from making any unnecessary movements. Sukuna wanted you composed, whatever the situation. (Except the times when he bedded you, you were allowed to scream, cry and thrash around then. Cause you were trapped under his immense strength, struggles were futile).

After a while, he asked, "Any wishes?"

You chewed on your bottom lip, eyes flickering down then back to him. You let out a breath, before continuing. "May I visit the shrine... this evening?"

Silence.

You were contemplating whether you had offended him, somehow. Previously, he did allow for your little trips, you wondered if his patience was running thin cause of your repeated incapability of bearing him an heir. Maybe, you ran out of luck.

You were about to mutter an apology but then a smug grin spread across his lips, "Why so?" He asked.

"To-" You swallowed a lump, preparing to answer the practiced dialogue. "To offer prayers for–"

"Why grieve for someone who didn't even take form?" He cut you up, raising an eyebrow. For a tad moment, he sounded curious. It broke into a cruel chuckle, "You humans would make a funeral out of anything, yes?"

If you held an ounce of sympathy then you wouldn't question.

You wanted to say but you knew better. Besides, you still have to keep up the act of being his loyal wife. Heaving a out a deep breath, you replied, "I suppose." You paused, running the tip of your tongue over your lip.

"I'd pray that I can bear you an heir the next time, my lord."

Nay, more so: I'd pray that you receive your end soon, my lord.

Sukuna watched you. No, not look. He watched, like a predator. Then, his lips cracked into a sinister grin. "You've a way with your words, wife."

It caught you off guard. You raised an eyebrow, attempting to voice out your confusion. "What do-"

"I will accompany you."

"Sukuna sama, the herbalist you asked for, has arrived."

Sukuna spared a glance at Uraume, who knelt by his feet.

"Bring him."

As on cue, they rose up from their stance, pivoting around towards the door. It parted, two curses had a man in their grasp as he struggled to break free. His eyes widening with terror when it fell on the King, sitting atop his throne.

The man was pushed down to his knees, face meeting the floor in a loud slam. His scuffles were in vain against such power, he knew that. Still, in a situation of life and death, rationality takes it's leave.

Sukuna clicked his tongue in annoyance. All he wanted was some herbalist to answer the flurry of questions in his which had him restless for the past few days. Did this scum think he'd be killed? Maybe he would be, if he deems it necessary or he proves to be useless.

What had him restless was your miscarriages. Counting the most recent would make it a fourth. Where did he go wrong? You were kept in utmost luxury, no toils whatsoever. Still, what was wrong?

—》《—

"Perhaps, there's some faults in her highness."

"Keep your voice down, Mira. Someone may hear you."

"I am a lot quite... but tell me, don't you find it strange? How come she has lost all of her children?"

"I- I suppose. Perhaps, motherhood is not written in her fate."

"Or so, she's simply incapable."

—》《—

Safe to say, those were the last words they uttered before they were turned into a mash of flesh and blood.

Sliced into pieces that even trying to make a proper corpse out of the remnants weren't possible.

At times, Sukuna wished he held the power to bring back someone to life. Then maybe, he'd have given those servants a death, more worthy. Maybe, ripping out their limbs, piece by piece. First the bones would break, ripped from the ligaments, then it'd be the muscles; that was easy to just tear out. And after that happened, he could have just sewn up the blobs of flesh again and repeat the process until they learn their lesson or the life leaves them again.

He deduced the latter would be more probable. Still, it would be fine. They deserved that.

Speaking ill of you in his palace, in his vicinity, in his world was prohibited. A sin, in the words of humans. And a sin never goes unpunished.

You - his consort, his queen, you were heavenly. There isn't a fault in you, it's some external factor, must be. But he can't let go of his growing suspicion either.

Sukuna detested children, it was a known fact. Always ending their lives first, whenever he set foot in a village. They were of no use to him, unless they were served to him on his platter. He couldn't deny, their flesh was flavourful.

Even though, he held great disdain for them, he couldn't help but desire a kinship with you. With the price of letting go of your undivided attention? Hmm, doesn't sound too great. He assumed, he can hire a wet nurse, just in case. Still, he desired to see you round with his child, feet swollen as you struggled to walk around. You do not have to worry, he, your husband would joyfully oblige in carrying you in his arms. You were more than perfect, he couldn't even imagine just how beautiful you'll look, during and after carrying your child.

It was destined. You'd extend his lineage or no one else.

You were flawless then why were you causing such errors? Contradicting. It was his question until he started to take a note in your behaviour, and he found...

Sukuna stood up from his throne, walking down the steps of bones, presumably of the ones he killed. They act as a pretty show piece, according to him.

The court resonated with his footsteps, each one carrying a promise of death. The man's struggles seized once he was harshly pulled up by his hair, his eyes met with Sukuna's.

"Yo-your high–ness," The man fumbled with his words, a spine chilling sensation going down his frame.

"Time's wasting," Sukuna said, his glare pointed. The fury evident, though his exterior was calm. "Comply if you don't wish death."

The man nodded frequently, his fingertips trembled with anticipation and horror. "Ye-yes, your highness. It's an honour to s-serve you." The man fell to his feet as he was dropped. Sukuna dismissed the extra company with a wave of his hand.

"Rise," He declared.

The man still on his knees, raises his head. "What can I- I do for you, your highness?"

—》《—

"May I make a request, my lord?"

Sukuna's eyes flickered to you, yours not meeting his. Knelt before him, you gracefully poured the sake in his ochoko.

"Speak."

He marked the squinting in your irises, fingertips trembled when you put the vessel down. Your shoulders rose and fell before you gazed at him, reluctantly. He couldn't help but find your antics inhumanely amusing.

"Would you be kind enough... to bring me this-" You paused for a fleeting moment. "This herb called... aloe vera?"

—》《—

"Aloe vera," Sukuna tilted his head aside, the upper pair of arms crossed over his chest. "What use does it have?"

"We-well, my lord it's used for heal-healing purposes, burns, cuts, rashes... it heals injuries, yes." He answered, taking a gulp. There was other uses too yet his head was alike a blank canvas, before such a formidable strength. He wasn't even aware if it was satisfactory or why the King of Curses needed to know about such a measly plant. But if it meant, he gets to live another day, then he'll just give what he could offer. "I-It can also be used to– to make me-medicated food. N-not a delicacy... I might add."

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, "That's it?"

"N-no, my lord. There- it can cure diges-"

"In pregnancy."

The man stiffened, his mouth parting a tad bit. A whisper leaving his lips, "Yo-your highness...?"

Pregnancy, menstruation, considered taboo. A matter regarding women, spoken in the inner chambers, the men should remain ignorant. A topic whispered in ears not spoken aloud in any hall, let alone the royal court. Certainly, Sukuna was aware of this societal construct, yet he didn't care. The society and its idiotic rules could go to hell. He just needed answers.

"Speak," Sukuna's voice was louder, deeper when the man before him fidgeted in his spot due to discomfort - on speaking such a topic.

"It-Its a- your highness, I d-don't think you-"

"Bastard," His fumbling was interrupted by Sukuna. The warning evident in his profanity. His face grew darker, the four irises glowing with impending danger akin Satan himself. "If you so much as want to live, fucking speak."

The man's blood ran cold as on cue, face turning a shade paler as if winter had started to pool in. Tears prickled the corners of his eyes, "Forgive me, your highness! I will speak, I will- yes- aloe vera its-" He heaved out a deep breath, an attempt to slow down his beating heart. "Any fo-form of it is ill-suited during pregnancy... it can cause... cause pe-pelvic haemorrhage leading to... to misc-"

"Miscarriage?"

"Yes, miscarriage... can lead to miscarriage, your highness."

A profound silence prevailed. Not a soul spoke neither was a footstep heard. Not a leaf rustled or the howling winds tapped on the window pane - assumed, mother nature had halted its elements from making any noise.

The stakes were high yet an flicker of courage alighted in the man as he raised his head up to glance at Sukuna, "My lor-"

The man's head tumbled down before he could even complete.

He couldn't scream, he couldn't beg, he couldn't apologize, he couldn't even blink. All he could do was watch. Watch as his beheaded body fell limp before his eyes. Watch as the blood poured out like waterfalls staining the carpet with its hues. The red marred bones protruded out amidst the flesh, globs of blood was gushing out of his severed voice box. His body jerked, the remnants of conscious nerves trying to survive.

It was a neat cut. A heavenly sight.

The world started to blur in. And before he knew it, the light was gone from his eyes.

Sukuna didn't even spare a glance as he marched out of his court.

Uraume approached the body, a few maids accompanying them. They casted a disapproving glare at the corpse.

"Not edible, dispose of it."

You didn't see or hear from Sukuna for a week.

He didn't visit your chambers at night neither was he present when you sat down for your meals. Even his energy was alike a hushed whisper which would remind you of his presence in the residence, but not reveal himself to you. For some reason, it had you in an unease.

No, you certainly did not miss his presence. But his absence just made the surroundings almost suffocating. There was the looming threat that something had happened or something were to happen. One worse than the other.

Silence was never uneventful.

Taking up the courage, you had once inquired Uraume about his absence. Presenting a polite bow, they answered, "Sukuna sama doesn't want to be disturbed."

Disturbed... as if he wasn't the cause of all disturbances. A natural disaster in himself. You resisted the urge to scoff and uttered a meek line of gratitude before going about your day. (That extended with you strolling down the halls or garden or just be in your chambers and read the few books, Sukuna had bought you).

On the very same day the dark commenced. While you were mesmerized by the fall of twilight over the garden, you heard his voice.

"Don't you love playing with poison, wife?"

The sudden question made you halt your steps, you weren't even aware that he was present- shielded his aura, presumably. You turned around, raising an eyebrow with bewilderment.

"Pardon, my lord?"

Sukuna snorted , walking up to you, a smirk played on his lips. You had to make the effort of tilting your head to gaze up at him. His towering figure loomed over you, his lower left hand snaking around your waist - pulling you closer to him.

"You love poisons, don't you? Or in your words - herbs."

Your shoulders grew rigid, eyes widening with realization, a sharp breath hitting your throat. Your fingertips trembled with anticipation. You were sure to be discreet in your affairs, using the isolation he subjected you to at its best. He knew. It was bad. Very much so. And what were to happen now? What would he do to you?

Another night of horror where your screams would be unheard, your resistance proved to be futile, where you'd be left to suffer alone, where another shard of your remaining soul would be plunged by him. Another night where you'd again play into his whims... Or something more vile, leaving you physically disabled? Perhaps, even death...

The foremost was the most heinous one. You silently prayed that he wouldn't resort to that. If you were to be subjected to his torment then you wished he'd just kill you, liberating you for once and for all. Even so, survival is what the mind wants. Piecing through any tactic just to live another day. The play for now should be denial.

Sukuna's affections for you worked as a double edged sword. You aimed to take advantage of it, in every way possible. You instilled a bit of courage, standing your ground, you spoke "I don't understand what you're trying to instigate, my lord."

He looked down on you, a coy smile uplifting his lips. He threaded his fingers through the knot of your kimono, leaning down next to your ear, he inhaled your scent. His lips brushing over your neck.

"I do not believe so, wife." He murmured, his warm breath hitting your skin, a range of goosebumps rising over your arm. "In fact, I think you clearly know, what I speak about."

Before you could let a word out, he straightened up, turning around, he pushed you to walk with him. His large hand still covering your back.

"Come, let me entertain you."

You were walking to the gallows.

Not literally but you were sure, your end was near.

The wooden floors creaked with footfalls. Each step heavier than the previous. You hesitantly glimpsed at Sukuna, his gaze was far ahead. Not a word left his mouth in this while. Only his hold remained firm. He pushed you forward every moment your step faltered.

Your breath hitched when you turned a corner - the right wing. A rule, you could say. Sukuna made it clear since the day he held you captive brought you home - never step a foot in the right wing. Despair drowned your curiosity that time, you didn't question, least bothered to. Even later, you didn't dare to defy him; courtesy to the pain you were subjected to once.

Still, you could make the wild guess of what happened in there. The muffled screams kept you awake at midnight, it was easy to put the puzzle pieces together. There he revelled with the sick pleasure of tormenting your kind.

He stopped before a pair of oak doors. That's when he glanced at you, for the first time in a long while. For a moment, he stared at you with an emotion you couldn't decipher. The next moment, he pulled out the Kanzashi from your hair, letting your strands tousle down.

You flinched, pushing away the curls which clouded your vision. Sukuna held the pin in his hand, holding your gaze. He was unmoving.

What happened to him?

"My lord," You called. "What are you-"

"Stay quiet," He handed you the kanzashi back, adjusting your hand to hold it as if it were a dagger. Turning to the door, he spared you a glance. "Don't speak a word." With that, the doors opened.

Dark.

It was dark save for the light of the lantern which illuminated the room. He shoved you forward, the door locking behind as he stood aside you.

"One bite."

Huh? Bite? What did he mean? You slightly turned your head towards him but you were stopped in your tracks. It wasn't only you and Sukuna in this room, seems you had a guest. More appropriate word? A Captive.

Your eyes were wide open. On the corner of the room, sat a young boy, not more than a adolescent - blindfolded. Restrained by chains, his wrists and ankles were cuffed with metal. A small whimper left his lips as he registered the presence of both of you.

You were about to speak but then his words rang in your mind.

Don't speak a word.

Sukuna gripped your wrist, leading you to the boy, "One bite, in the arm."

He wasn't talking to you. To the boy, he kept his eyes. You marked how the boy flinched. The metals clanking on contact.

He turned to you then, motioning to the pin in your hand then the boy's arm. Realization hit you. You tried to shake your head, refuse; but one glare of his and you were compelled. Reluctantly, you turned around, trudging to the boy.

Something was wrong.

You could feel it. Why... why would he want you to stab this poor boy? A picture of misery, he was. You noted he didn't have any sign of bruises in his body - peculiar. Yet, his fragile state was enough to give you a hint that he had been here for days. Perhaps, starved too. The tension was high and all you wanted was to leave this room, in an instant.

Fine, if Sukuna wanted you to just stab the boy. You'd do it. Missing the vital points which could end his life. One, he said. You'll miss the point and done. Its not upon you that you'd pierce the wrong place. His instructions weren't specific - that'd be your excuse.

He won't die. Not from your hands.

You gently held the boy's arm, angling the pointers on the muscles. You drove it in.

Miscalculation.

The boy's body instantly stiffened, an gut wrenching scream erupted from his mouth. He thrashed around, swinging his legs and arms, his body twitching violently.

You recoiled back soon, yanking out the pin, stepping away on instinct. You watched with terror.

Foam rose up the boy's mouth, his shrieks pierced your eardrums. The fluid dripped down his jaw, marring his clothes. He clutched the area where you stabbed him. Scratching at it with all his might. The sound of flesh ripping filled your ears as the boy ruthlessly, tore the muscles.

You were stunted. You couldn't speak or move. You weren't chained but you felt as if a thousand shackles bore you down.

The next seconds were a blur. The screams started to die down, his body losing it's color. Sooner than you could grasp, did the room turn silent again.

The boy was dead.

"Enjoyed the show, wife?"

You slapped your hand over your mouth, stumbling a few steps back. You couldn't tear your eyes off the young boy, bile rose up your throat as the room started to spin.

"Wh-what did you-"

No- you couldn't throw up, whatever second thought it was, it refrained you from crumbling to your knees and make a mess. Shivers went down your spine, you struggled to stand straight. The stench of the corpse and the expunging liquids started to fill your nostrils. You were almost on the verge to lose consciousness.

"What... did you do?"

Your eyes flickered to Sukuna. He stood tall, not a sign of emotion on his mien. You regret ever considering mirth to the worst feature on him, cause none was more terrifying.

And he was watching you.

It reminded you of the time, you first saw him - covered with blood of the lives he had taken, down the river bank. Victim of naivety and ignorance, you didn't know any better than to not let him see you. Wandering towards the peculiar beast, even when a gut wrenching terror asked you to run; you were stubborn. You had asked - are you alright?

"What did you do?" You repeated again.

Tilting his head, he kept his unwavering gaze fixed on you. "As a matter of fact, I didn't do anything, wife." He paused, letting the horror shadow your features, "It was all you."

You needed to run.

The kanzashi, which was till then clasped in your hand firmly, fell down. A clank, you heard.

One step.

One step towards the door. He is standing afore you, the fingers of his upper right arm ran through your open hair, tangling in the roots, he yanked your head back.

"I don't remember, giving you the permission to leave."

Tears prickled your eyes as you tried to break free. Sukuna was having none of it. He dragged you by your hair towards the corpse of the boy. Your nails jabbed into his wrist while whimpers of anguish left your mouth.

Sukuna shoved you down to your knees, tugging your hair back - you were sure, they will be ripped off if he puts any more pressure - he made you glance at its face. He crouched beside you. With a flick of his finger, he ripped the blindfold out of the boy.

"Dare to shut your eyes."

Compliance had become second nature.

The body was rigid, skin turning blue. The veins on his arms were bulged out, his mouth wide open, filled with foam, trickling down his cheek, drying on it.

The sight caused you to gag.

Horrifying. His bloodshot eyes were wide open, protruding out of the sockets. Irises dilated in shape, which you considered humanly impossible. But what had your heart hammering in your chest wasn't the vivid details you saw on the corpse. It was the fact, that you recognized the boy. Son of that distant elder cousin, you'd seen once or twice in a year.

"Look at that, love." Sukuna cooed in your ear, forcing you to face the corpse.

You shook your head violently, clawing at his wrist - desperate to escape. Your heart thumped inside your ribcage, you could hear it in your ears, your guts twisted in numerous ways as sweatbeads trailed down your forehead.

"You did that."

No. No, you didn't. You didn't do it. It wasn't you.

"You killed him."

No, you didn't... he didn't die because of you.

"Take a good look. See what you've done."

You vigorously shook your head. Denying all of his claims cause... cause they were... false, yes, false. They were false.

"No," You stated once you found your voice. "N-no, no... I- no."

Sukuna hummed, twisting a knot in your hair, "Yes, you. You did it."

No. You were innocent. You weren't to be blamed. It wasn't you.

It was... him.

"No, no, I didn't," You refused again, standing your ground. Moving your eyes towards him, you gritted your teeth. "No, I didn't do it. I didn't do anything. It was you."

"Really? How so?"

Fire burnt in your eyes. It was enough. He couldn't make you believe which you didn't commit - you didn't kill him.

"Poison," You said with conviction lacing your tone. "He was poisoned, a stab wouldn't procure such a reaction."

"Observant as ever," He mused, quirking up an eyebrow. A faint smile curled up on his lips. "Still, it doesn't gratify the fact that you were the one to end his life."

Blood boiled inside you, surging through your veins like lava. He had no right to accuse you of something. You didn't kill him, he couldn't make you believe it, whatsoever may happen.

"I may have stabbed him with the kanzashi, but that didn't have any trace of poison in it. I am-"

"Sure of it?"

You could only glare at him. He was toying with you. Tugging the strings of your conscience but you won't have any of it. "I am," You confirmed, staring at him without any falters. "I held it... you held it. If it was really drenched with toxicant as lethal as that, we- we both would be dead."

His grip loosened from your hair, hand falling down. The corners of his eyes crinkled, the smile turning into a smirk.

"It was you," You continued. "You did something to him at first and-"

Sukuna broke into a chortle of laughter. Far from jovial, more so sinister, filled with sheer malevolence. He gripped your jaw, pulling you closer to himself. His sharp canines glinted in the dim light.

"You just keep on fascinating me, wife."

Each second with him was revolting. Just his touch alone had your skin crawling. Yet, you couldn't let him know he has the upper hand.

"We had a pact," You stated firmly. His game was disgusting. What was he trying to do? What was his goal? "If I stay with you, you wouldn't lay a finger on my family, then- h-how could-"

"I would still stand on the ground, that I didn't do anything." He replied, a hint of amusement in his tone. "It was all you, wife. I can assure you that I didn't go back in my words." His canines glinted while he smiled. "Not a flick of pain. Save for..." He paused, his eyes widening, the carmine irises glowed in the dark. "Save for telling him, he'd be killed by a snake bite."

"There was no venom on my pin."

"Know so," He confirmed, a playful smirk on his visage. You wished you could read minds, if possible only of him, that'd been enough. Then where did poison come from? You wanted to question but he beat you to it.

"His fear turned into poison."

You blinked. Once. Twice. You knew he had an urge to play mind games but this was ridiculous. You questioned, shell-shocked, "What?"

"He let his fear get the better of him, assuming your pin to be a snake. He believed it." He explained while you listened without so much as a word. "His conscience caused his body to give out the exact reactions, he imagined. A shock, you might say. That caused his death."

His game was disgusting. If he thought, he could just give you any excuse as this and let you believe his accusations then he was mad wrong. You gritted your teeth, yanking your face away from his grip. For a second, you saw all of his eyes opening wide with surprise. But that didn't extinguish the fire burning in you.

He reached out, dragging you towards him via the arm. A glare resting on his face. "What did I tell about refusi-"

"I don't believe you," You cut him off, hands clenched into fists. It was the first time in a long time, you lost your composure in front of him. No, you wouldn't play as his doll anymore. He broke his promise, its only fair that you do so. "I don't believe a single word you say. You- you did something, you must have. Fear, belief, whatever the fuck, something as trivial as that-"

"So you think fear is trivial, wife?" He sighed, his clutch in your arm remained firm. The rough callouses of his palm, rubbed over your skin. "And here I thought, you might be different than the rest. But you managed to drop below my expectations."

"Maybe that's what I love about you, darling." He continued.

Disgust arose in you, yet again. Love. As if he had any of that. He wasn't capable of love. Not in this lifetime. Never.

He spoke again, "Times you are the smartest I have seen, then you speak such blasphemy which would even embarrass the Gods you worship. Your silence was awarded by him leaning near your ear. He twisted a curl of your hair between his fingers. "Fear, wife..." He whispered to you. "Fear is a mind killer. It makes you believe anything. The small drop of poison which contaminates all the water."

"In the end, belief and fear are sides of the same coin," His top two eyes, flickered to the corpse of the boy. "I made him consume the poison of fear and you-" He turned to you again. "You made him believe it... so, in a way, yes. Yes, I did do something. Save for the part of ending his life. Though I didn't break my part of our pact." A smirk tugged on his lips. "You were the one who killed him. Isn't that great?"

Your breath hitched, throat gone dry. You gazed at him, eyes wide open. Your mind was a blank canvas.

Fear, poison, belief, killing...

He made you kill someone. An innocent boy who didn't even do anything.

Why won't he much rather just end your life?

Sukuna pulled away from you, standing up, he walked over to the lantern placed in the room. The stench of the rotting corpse had long ago started to pool in.

"You made me kill him." You whispered, still knelt, staring at the floor. When greeted with silence, you questioned again, a tone higher, "You made me kill him."

"And?"

His nonchalance had always been infuriating to you.

You could feel him standing a few steps behind you. "If you really wanted to kill my kin, you should've just told me. Getting your herbs was a tiring chore." You didn't miss the emphasis he put on, herbs. You could see him, rolling his eyes while speaking. "However, the taste of taking a life - isn't it delicious, wife?"

Guilt gnawed at you, tearing you internally. Your shoulders trembled as you let out ragged breaths, eyes fixed on the bloodied arm of the boy. The same arm where the kanzashi pierced, the muscles torn apart, blood drying on it due to the boy's onslaught. Nausea overrode your senses, bile rose up your throat and the next moment you were throwing up. The wastes ran down your mouth, your nails dug into the wooden - bruising your fingertips and chipping the nails. You don't realize Sukuna stepping up to your side, pulling your hair back while you were caught into the ordeal.

A disapproving grunt left his mouth after you were finished, yanking you up with your wrist. He pulled you towards the door. "Com-"

"No." Your heels remained firm on the ground. You refused him before you could even think. He turned towards you slightly, a scowl resting on his features before he pivoted around. He cast a glare upon you but before he could speak, your mouth opened again.

"You're even lower than scum." Your jaw ticked, hands clenching into fists. "You made me kill an innocent boy. Someone who might have done nothing to you, You– You disgust me, Sukuna."

Done you were with the respect, he demanded. If that angered him, made him want to rip out your heart and watch the life drain from your eyes. He was most welcome.

But it looks like, he wasn't resorting to any of that.

"You made me a murderer." You urged, staying strong in your stance. "You turned me into you."

His eyebrow twitched, a wave of mirth washed over him. "You were always like me, wife."

"I am nothing-"

"You're. You are like me. You are no saint, as you think so of yourself. " He said, leaving no room for argument. His lips pressed tight into a thin line.

Yet, you refused to believe that. You were nothing like him. Couldn't even dream so. You were not him.

"You kill children in your womb, I kill them, after they're born. How is it so different?"

"It is different." You yelled, your jaw clenched, teeth baring out. "This world needs no more of your lineage, it needs no more of you." You jabbed your pointer finger on his chest, tears pooling into your eyes. You refused to shed them. "I kill for your own sake, I do not."

"Then who do you kill for?"

"For everyone." The faint snort of his reached your ears. You couldn't decipher what he found so delightful in this.

"Playing God, are we?" He mocked causing your vexation to rise.

"Maybe I am. For the least, I am not killing innocent people like you."

From where such defiance arose, you weren't sure of. Perhaps, all the frustration, fright, terror which accumulated till now had reached its limit. Moreover, Sukuna's provocation must be the fuel to the fire.

You might be left bleeding– No, you would be left bleeding. You welcomed it with open arms.

"Careful," Sukuna pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear. "All Gods aren't worshipped."

He was enjoying himself. In all honesty, your obedience was getting too monotonous. This was better. Your defiance was amusing. Arousing, if there's to add. If he knew, letting you end a few lives would have this effect then he would have resorted to this long ago.

"Better than you." You shoved his hand away, "You are nothing more than a wretched, two-faced curse destroying all of our lives."

He noted your scowl, the way your lips were shut tight, your eyebrows crinkled together. Reasons evident, all he desired was to pull you into his arms smash his lips against yours. Taste the very essence of your being. Consume you wholly, just the way you are. So that in the end, your name, your taste, your scent would be engraved in his very soul. Without your mention, he wouldn't be complete.

But he refrained from giving in now. His desire extended to a far more sinister route. "I wonder..."

What would it be like to break your conviction? What would it be like to break you?

Oh, he knew.

Would it be right moment to let you know? Maybe he should wait for another, more appropriate time.

Hmm, perhaps he should. But no.

He let you play these games for too long. Tired of this game plan, he was. Maybe, you would just come to your senses if he let you know. So he let the words, flow out:

"I wonder, why this curse keeps protecting your pathetic life from people who would cross rivers to lay siege to your life?"

Worth everything.

Sukuna watched as your face lost its color. The previous boldness you presented him with was replaced by a mask of confusion and. Such a pretty sight, it was. To see you, falter from your stand. Second guess, yourself, be in denial then rage consumes you. And you look at him, like he was the forbearer of your misery. (He is).

Oh, how good he has you memorized.

Even the littlest of reactions you contort on your mien, on your mannerisms; everything has him intrigued. You have him intoxicated.

"You know the ones, the people... your people, for whom you play this God."

Sukuna wished he could capture this moment. He'd have the chance to take a glimpse of it again, whenever he wished to. The horrified look on your face as the weight of his words started to sink in.

Would you still look like this if he tells you the terror he bestowed on them who tried to steal you away from him? What would you say if he vividly describes each imagery of how he slowly, agonizingly burnt them, severed them and tormented them? Leaving them nothing but fragments beyond recognition.

You were his. All of you belonged to him. Without his sanction, no one could even see you, let alone touch you. Ah- just how many sorcerers perished from his hands, the number of villages, bathed in blood; save for yours. (Courtesy to that stupid pact, he forged with you)

Something had told him, that there'd be a better time to put an end to the pitiful lives of your kin.

"Can't speak? What caused so, darling?" His tone was laced with smugness, a twisted joy elicited in him. "Fearful that your play amounted to nothing?"

Your jaw ticked with anger. You were furious. "I don't believe you. You are lying."

Your trust on humans was commendable, he'd give you that. However, there's stark contrast between faith and blind belief. You were inclining towards the latter.

So, what do they do when words fail to convey message? Oh right, you give them a prime example.

"Let me just show it to you then, wife."

It was a gamble, he was willing to make. To keep you with him, forever, as he wanted - he needed you to know that no place other than his arms would be as comforting. Even if that meant breaking your very soul, so be it.

You were home.

One moment, Sukuna held your gaze. The next, you are standing before your hearth.

Toes dipping into the familiar black soil, the land where you ran and played during your childhood. Your familial home stood steps away from you. Still looked the same except the visible cracks on the wall, a layer of dust on top of the door and the woods looked worn out. However, what caught your eyes weren't the flaws of your home but the familiar older woman walking into your home.

"Mother…"

She stilled all of a sudden, rotating on her heels, her eyes landed on you. Shell shocked, that's what she was with the widened eyes and parted lips. A small smile curved up on your lips, she still looked the same except the few grey hairs and wrinkles aside her eyes.

"Mother," You called again, taking a step towards her. "I am back."

Sooner than you expected, her eyebrows scrunched up, mouth curving down when she finally registered your presence. You weren't some illusion or her mind playing tricks. "What are you here for?"

The disdainful tone caused you to flinch. You didn't expect this. Returning home, you dreamt of it to be filled with tears of joy and warm embraces. Not this… whatever, she was presenting you with. But- But its fine, you have returned after a two whole years. She must have been worried. The reason of her apprehension. God, you had a lot making up to do.

"Well, you know," You chuckled lightly, scratching the back of your neck. "Back… just back. I have returned."

"Found your way after two years?" She crossed her arms over her chest, staring at you with a look you didn't want to recognize.

You nodded, "Yes. How could I forget my way? Our address, its-"

You were interrupted when your name was spit out from her mouth. Her glare on you was palpable, "I know what it is. What are you here for?"

Her fury even made your skin crawl with fear. You were often on the receiving end of her glare when you were a child, given by your tendencies to run around and cause trouble for others. Yet, those glares, were none like this. This- this- you didn't want to name what it was.

"You are angry," You don't know if its directed towards your mother or yourself as you hold onto the last bit of fragments that not all is lost. "I get it, I really do." You stood on your toes, attempting to look behind her, into your house. "Where's father? Tell him, I am-"

"No more."

As if the air was knocked out of your lungs.

"What?" Your neck craned towards her so fast, it might have left a sprain. Yet, that was the least of your concern. "What do you mean by no more?"

"No more means no more." Your mother's sigh fell heavy on the air, words carried the weight of the world. Laid with pain underneath.

"How- when? Wha-what happened?" You couldn't wrap your mind around the new discovery. No one told you such. Who could've guessed? Such an ordeal to occur in your absence. And what might she be going through, without you. You didn't even get the chance to talk to him, one last time.

"A year ago," She confessed, her voice conveyed her lament and sorrow. Her words felt like a hammered blow on the fragile façade of hope, you had intricately crafted for yourself. However, she wasn't done. Her eyes held scorn, lips curled up to a sneer. "Aren't you satisfied? You finally made your mark. Must tell you," Her voice, once filled with love held nothing save for contempt, directed at you. "Good game, you played, dear." She spit the endearment as if, it were poison.

"No, I- I never wanted any of this. What are you even talking about?" A trembling footfall towards her, you whispered, "M-mother-"

"Don't you dare call me that."

The weight of her judgement felt heavy on you, pressing down, suffocating you alike chains.

"You are no daughter of mine."

You weren't aware since when the tears had sprang up your eyes, breaking the barricades, they shed down. Your throat burnt as you struggled to even breathe, clutching your chest - a searing pain shooting in your heart. Your heart was shattering from the ultimate rejection from your own flesh and blood.

"While you're at it, know this." Your mother continued.

The next words were like a blow to the gut, each syllable lined with the weight of revelations. Ones that hung in the air like a funeral shroud.

"In his last moments, his only regret was bringing a daughter like you in this world."

This night just doesn't seem to end, does it?

You were left as a hollow shell. Tethering the steps away from the home you were no more welcomed. Exhaustion reigned heavy on you. Physically and mentally.

Where were you going? You didn't know. Just where your feet would take you, there would you go. Perhaps, you can return to Sukuna. Would he take you back? Most probably not. Considering, your earlier outburst, adding to the fact that you refused to give him what you want; he might just discard you as you proved to be useless.

Funny. It was so damn funny. Once, you wished to escape from his hands whatsoever the price yet now… now you considered returning to him.

You could hear him calling you pathetic. Disgusting. More disgusting, that you agreed with him.

You were truly pathetic.

But before you could spiral down the void of self-hatred, a voice- nah, multiple voices startled you.

"There she is, parading around some meek, innocent girl." A scoff is added. "You are far from it."

"The nerve of you to just walk back into our lives after you betrayed us."

Your neck cranes to your left, an old man - the village elder with a few other men and women following behind; they approached you. "Excuse me?"

"Who do you think you are?" A woman's cry reached your ears. "Returning after you turned your back on us."

You flinched at the accusation thrown. What could be possibly be instigating? To all your knowledge, you were walking in this- in your village after two long years. Anger, disdain and accusatory glares clouded their features. If your mother's insults weren't enough to pierce through your heart then it certainly did now, with all the people, you once called your own to look at you like you were the monster.

You summoned the least bit of courage you had, squared your shoulders and started, "I'd have you know-"

"Traitors don't get to speak." At the center of the crowd was the village elder. He was the pillars of your hamlet, revered for his wisdom and guidance, but now he looked akin a judge ready to deliver his sentence upon you. A sentence which would push you more into this conundrum. "You've been cavorting to that monster. Disgusting."

"I am no traitor." You retorted soon. "You can't accuse me of such when you don't ev-"

"Save it for someone who would care, whore."

The curse had your mouth parted in disbelief, horror etched upon your mien. Sooner than you could compose yourself, did whispers of agreement rippled through the crowd which branded you as a traitor.

"You are just as twisted as him."

"Get out of here if you so much as hold your life dear."

"Don't play as the innocent bitch, now."

The accusation hung in the air like a dark cloud, poisoning the atmosphere with its venomous hatred. Your breath was caught in your throat as you searched desperately for words to defend yourself; the crowd's hostility rendered you speechless. But amidst the cacophony of condemnation, one voice stood out above the rest.

I wonder, why this curse keeps protecting your pathetic life from people who would cross rivers to lay down yours?

Really? Were you really recalling his words now? Now of all times… You truly were pathetic.

For one moment, You just stayed silent - letting their accusations bore you down. Somewhere you wished all of it were just a nightmare. You'll soon wake up on your bed beside Sukun- fuck! Since when did you start to expect to wake up with him? He- He was toying with your mind. This was the only result. But the fact that this was your thought process had you recoil back.

The next moment, everything made sense.

These accusations were stemmed from the fact that you- you were proclaimed to be the wife of the King of curses. Your unwillingness to return, given for the pact you forged with Sukuna, was taken as your cue that you betrayed your family, your home, your people.

Your family despised you. Your people despised you. The very same people you chose to protect were turning their back on you.

Did they truly try to lay down your life?

Amidst your plight, you didn't register when the village elder marched up to you. "Didn't you hea-" His trial at speech was cut off. Nay, his lifeline was cut off. (Humorous, isn't it?)

Numerous red lines appeared on his body before it burst off into a globs of flesh and blood. Blood which splashed onto you, marring your visage and attire with its hues.

He was here. You knew it. You could feel it.

For some reason, it filled you with a sense of relief.

However, your people were on the other end of the rope. The eyes which afore held hatred and disgust, they were now filled with horror and fright. In this reverie as the villagers started to flee, a torch tumbled on the ground - lighting the grass on fire. The winds showed no mercy, as the howls increased, so did the flames.

Provoking him was never the right move.

You were digging your own grave.

Playing with fire only gets you burnt.

Flames surrounded you, crawling up your skin, the screams piercing your ears, your chest heaved up and down. Gaze, once settled on your hearth, now all you saw were the burning huts, the crackling of embers reached your ears. Attire and hands stained with blood of the insolent.

No one touches what's mine.

The warning shouldn't have been taken lightly. Should have known, the extent of his power.

Eyes held terror, fright, regret- whatever you could name. The multitude of names you received seemed no more than a distant dream, nowhere to be found. All were running away - expectable.

You expected calamity, but you were calm.

The sparks danced over your irises as everything went down in the crimson hues. Save for you, you weren't burning. Not an spark touched your skin. Was it the distance or the control? Who knows. But one confirmation which you held was that - tonight you won't die. Not so soon either.

Careful, not all Gods are worshipped.

The words rang in your ears and as if on cue, you found him again. In this trance of insanity, only one thing held your sight when you attempted to turn - The eyes tinted with crimson.

All of a sudden, something burnt inside you too.

Unbridled rage consumed you. Your chest heaved up and down as ragged breath left your mouth. Their words came back to you, ringing in your ears as if you were pushed into a void.

Who do you think you are? Returning after you turned your back on us.

Would this bitch even be alive if you prioritized yourself?

Don't play as the innocent bitch, now.

Is that the thanks you get for trying to protect them?

Traitors don't get to talk.

Traitor… fine, you'd be the traitor.

With caution you took one step towards him. No reaction. Your chance - you took another. Then another and another. You stood before him, with nothing save for a void etching your features. Amusement flickered over him, the corner of his lip curled up.

"Saw it for yourself wife?"

Seemed like silence was your go-to response lately. From your peripheral, you saw the burning houses, the distant screams reached you. For some reason, the screams were almost soothing. You revelled in this. Their gut wrenching shrieks were like a balm to your essence.

Their predicament was your solace.

Sounded like someone you knew. Someone who had warned you about them but you chose to remain ignorant. Sickening… were you becoming like him?

You were always like me, wife.

You could laugh. Maybe you were like him.

"Let's forge another pact?" You offered, keeping your eyes pinned on him.

"A pact?"

"A pact."

A smirk curved up his lips, the upper pair of arms crossed over his chest, "Humour me, love."

The smirk wasn't directly for you. But he did. So you returned it back. One with an equal malicious intent. Cause in that moment, no second thoughts, no doubts clouded your mind. And so, you uttered the blasphemy:

"You kill them all, each and everyone. In return, I will stay with you, give you an heir. Whatever you want from me."

A year later

Screams died down after a gruelling ten hours.

"Good news, Sukuna sama. It's a boy."

A/N: Honestly, I was almost done with this fic, long ago but while writing the climax, I kept chickening out with all the self-doubts but then I just wrote what I wanted. I do understand if the ending is not up to your liking and I sincerely apologize for it.

However, thanks for reading up till the end. I enjoyed writing this a lot. Some feedback is appreciated <3

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hells-wasabii · 4 months

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Hi 👋

Could I trouble you for a Zestial x wife reader drabble please?

And maybe a seperate Carmilla x reader drabble too because I ship them and just can't choose between)

A/N: Have I mentioned I'm a sucker for domestic fluff? So I've actually decided that from this point on, if I'm requested more than one drabble per ask, I'll make seperate posts, but still include the ask via screenshotfor easier navigation.

Character: Zestial

Type: Drabble (Zestial x wife!reader, Drabble, Fluff)

It was amazing. Truly, it was.

Despite how 'modern' hell had become, the feel of the city somehow managed to remain the same. You imagined that it would so long as you remained by Zestial's side. It quite honestly reminded you of when the two of you had been alive. You could remember it so very vividly. Even then, your dear husband had been a lord residing over territories. It was similar to how things worked now, something that you had noted many times before. Though now, instead of able-bodied men and resources, power stemmed from souls.

While he had been a lord, you had been his lady, his darling wife who was unafraid to bare her fangs at the other nobles to put them in their place while he dealt with the more bloody matters. Your marriage, though initially arranged, was loving, fulfilling. It had been for several centuries. He was your everything and you were his. You had even been childhood sweethearts, falling in love effortlessly despite your marriage having already been arranged since birth. You very well could have been soulmates.

So it was only natural that you would die together, rising again to create a new empire to rule together.

Several centuries had passed. Overlords had risen and fallen like the tide, however, you and your dear husband remained steadfast.

"Dearest, is all well?" Ah, speak of the devil. Turning your head, you find your darling lord standing at the door. It never failed to surprise you how your husband could move with such grace as to walk nary without a sound. "Thou hast yet to come for dinner."

Even in small moments such as these, your dear Zestial remained attentive.

"Just reminiscing, dear. We have built much together." You pointed out, hoping to ease his mind as you turned back to look at your shared territories. He nodded, moving from the doorway to join you as you softly conversed.

"That we have, my dear wife, and so we shall continue to do."

"I greatly look forward to spending the rest of eternity with you, dearest. Our love is not one to be sullied by the sands of time. We have grown stronger, together." His expression turned content as his hand found the small of your back. A small but welcome gesture as he gently guided you closer to him. Truly, it didn't matter where you went or what you did. You were more than content so long as Zestial was there with you.

"May we remain here, just a little longer?" You asked, though truly, you already knew the answer.

"As you wish, my wife."

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin headcanons #hazbin imagine #zestial x reader #zestial

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poisonous-honey · 4 months

Text

Why Are Their Designs So Complicated???

Who's Here: Kaveh, Alhaitham, and Reader/Player

Contains: Self aware genshin au (not the cult au), neither Alhaitham nor Kaveh speak since they're trying to keep the fact they're self-aware hidden, Kaveh outfit slander

You thought Kaveh would be an easier character to draw. At a glance, his outfit is much simpler than a majority of the casts, so you thought he'd be a safe pick for fanart. How wrong you were.

Alhaitham watched from the sidelines, far away from where your camera was pointing, as you fawn over Kaveh. It had been a while since you came to Sumeru City for anything while you were playing, so his curiosity got the better of him. Though it was nice to hear you without needing to partake in all the labour inducing tasks you always force him to do, He could do without Kaveh looking so smug.

He suddenly hears you complain as you turn Kaveh to the right, making him finally take notice of his presence. He could see Kaveh wanted to say something, probably to gloat, but with you currently controlling him he couldn't risk anything. Kaveh still had this air of pride and arrogance surrounding him, and it was obvious he was trying to show him up. Alhaitham merely raises an eyebrow at him before quickly tuning into what you were saying.

"I should have thought this through more. Why didn't I inspect his outfit beforehand? This is painful."

Kaveh's face immediately fell before he quickly fixed his error and returned it neutral before you could notice. Though, Alhaitham could tell just looking at his eyes and the slight twitching of his fingers that Kaveh was anxious.

"Why's there a gold band on his thigh? There's no purpose for it, and I don't think that'd be comfortable to sit with. Why do so many characters just have bands on their thighs for no reason? To make drawing them take longer?"

Alhaitham continues to watch as you move Kaveh every which way, and he can see he's struggling to keep his composure.

"I-I don’t even want to draw his scarf, but he looks unfinished without it. How do I simplify this, so I don't want to die drawing more nonsensical detail."

"I just wanted to make fanart for Writing on the Wall, why do these characters have to be so complicated. His outfit looked so simple in comparison to everyone else, but now I just want to keel over."

Kaveh looked like he was about to pass out, and it's quite a shock that you haven't noticed how not normal he's currently acting. Your blindness is currently acting in their favour, though, so while you're distracted he'll try to signal to Kaveh to get a hold of himself-

"Thank God, I think I'm done sketching his outfit. Kaveh I love you so much, To the moon and back, but I'm never drawing you again. Or anyone ever… Okay that's a lie, I love you all too much, but god I wish I had the patience to not go batshit. Now I'm just exhausted and don't even want to think about colouring this right now. I'll explore Fontaine a bit, I guess. I just need my exploration team-"

Your voice fades as you switch your team and teleport away. At least that saves them from Kaveh losing his composure in front of you, but now he's sure he's having a breakdown in his house. The things he puts up with for you. At least he has new leverage to pull against him.

#genshin reader insert #x reader #sagau #self aware genshin #kaveh x reader #al haitam x reader #alhaitham x reader #Pois.Posts #pois.writes

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mo-aiki · 5 months

Text

Duke Augustus Swanson of the North

Summary: Your fiance and how he had reacted to your sudden change in behavior. As he looks back on the past, he wonders how long has he seen your smiling face with content and affection.

Warning: obessive behavior, mentions of violence, obvious implications of bullyin, I don't condone it, I just write it

A/N: ART NOT MINE, IT'S THE MALE LEAD OF THE MANHWA SECRET LADY

Connected to Yandere Isekai M. Characters x F. Reader

For as long as he could remember, Augustus never liked you.

Not a single bit.

The daughter of a count and a generational promise between his grandfather and yours that didn't suffice. His parents were both dead from a carriage accident, and as such, his grandfather took him in and forced him into this marriage. The first time he had met you, he was enchanted by your looks (even if both of you were 8 years old). Your (h/c) hair and (e/c) eyes enchanted him, but it soon all came crashing down onto him once your parents left the room, and your true personality was revealed. Even at a young age, he was already being tugged on by young ladies and their families wanting to up their status or rank in noble society, no matter the age. And you were no different in your affections.

Seducing him with sweets.

Yelling at ladies in your way.

"Accidentally" spilling a dark grape juice on a lady's ballgown because he had conversed with her for an hour and found her remotely interesting to talk to.

Trying to talk to him about anything.

Being near him and showing public displays of affection.

Clinging onto a promise, he vowed to break.

He was bored of someone like you. You who were no different than the other ladies who had tried to seduce him. Your mannerisms, your personality, and your ideas, they were all the same to him.

No matter how many times you'd court him, even if it took 5 years to reach, he felt absolutely nothing.

His heart didn't pang, his cheeks and ears didn't flush, his breathing was perfectly normal, and the words out of his mouth cut through like usual.

Nothing would change in your relationship with him. He had planned to break it off and just die alone with no heir or find someone he had mutual interest in.

Nothing will change and he was certain nothing will ever change between the 2 of you.

Until the day you had contracted a deathly high fever.

Augustus was surprised to hear about you 3 days after getting the envelope from your family. He had thought it was you, sending it like you were your father. But his butler forced him to open it.

Dear Young Master Augustus,

I am here to inform you of the cancelation of next Thursday's meeting with my daughter. You see, my daughter has contracted a high fever due to the flu season being prevalent. She is unable to attend the meeting and I would like it if you visit her in order to wish her as speedy recovery. I know that is rather a selfish thing to ask for, but my daughter has been requesting your presence ever since she contracted it. I would like to ask you to please see my daughter and wish for her speedy recovery.

Sincerely,

Count (l/n).

He thought, why not visit. To see you die and his engagement to be break off, would be a euphoric day for him.

He visited you, and was by your side in your room. Pink, frilly and full of girly stuff. He disliked it, but somehow found it cute. You in your lace nightgown, and your face all red but with a cold towel on your head. He had received the news that your fever had been so high, that you had been in a coma now.

He left, because he had nothing else to do there. 'I hope she dies so I can get out of this wretched engagement...' he thought with the coldest stare imaginable.

Your behavior has changed after that fever.

Augustus was not the first one to notice such a change in behavior. Your once smug and arrogant expression, was replaced with a confused and softer one.

It was more bearable.

Everything about you became toned down. Spending time together was less of a pain in the neck, and over time, he started caring about you, little by little.

He started noticing your favorite things, like, for example, your favorite desserts, flowers, places to converse, color, toys, and even down to the accessories you liked to adorn yourself with.

Your cute mannerisms and habits that he can't help but lightly tease at. "Why do you do such things..?" He said, a bit too loud.

"Do what?" You asked, confused.

He wiped away a spot of whipped cream on your cheek and licked it. Watching your face blush in embarrassment was sure worth the move he pulled. Even if he was 13 at the time.

As both of you grew up, he'd soon see how people reacted around you. He sure saw the difference. You turned more beautiful as you matured in age. Your personality grew, and your smile was more bright. He wanted to be the only one to notice these changes and monopolize it for himself, but everyone else around you could now see it. First, your childhood friend. The son of a low ranking Earl. He thought of nothing with him, but he did annoy him. His consistent pestering and hopeless looks made you always include him in your dates.

He absolutely took in the fact that the boy always looked at him with disdain and envy. And he did as well. His close bond with you, and how close he could get to you without you making a fuss, fumed him.

But once you got older, everyone, and he felt everyone started to take notice of you. Men staring at your maturing body with eyes full of lust, women staring with jealousy, children taking notice of your pretty face, and the consistent flirting from everyone, and he felt like everyone.

Men bumping into you, "supposedly on accident," and striking up a conversation, you looked bored in. Women stealing your attention with the gossip of the nobility and even flirting themselves. Children always begging and crying for attention if you did not provide enough for them. He was sick of it.

The son of a small count was always consistently flirting with you. Asking about your day, favorite color, favorite jewels, hobbies, it was almost as if he had forgotten you had a fiance right next to you.

He couldn't help but say a couple of threats towards him, and when that didn't work, he planned for his carriage to be ran into, paying the driver to run away to another country with 10,000 gold paid for him.

But he wasn't the only one. Many men of lowly rank kept on coming, and he threatened them. If that didn't work, they mysteriously died in the next few days. All evidence of the perpetrator, erased from sight.

He could get rid of all of his enemies, but 2. Her childhood best friend and the war hero turned personal guard.

The son of an Earl was sneaky, cunning, and someone whose death would greatly affect her. She would be broken before he ever got the chance to be with her. And the personal guard. A war hero. Someone who is well versed in strength and is not shaken by mere threats he could ever make.

Nothing ever seemed to work to get rid of them, other than the fact that he was your fiancé. So all he needed to do was shower you with love (which he already did and is currently doing). He gives you gifts of jewels, books and stuff for your hobbies, he always has his hand around your waist when out and about. He is always watching what you do. He listen in on your conversations, whether they be rants, boring or awkward small talk. And most of all, he is always here when he can be.

But he was surprised when you all of the sudden brought up annulment.

You had wanted to annul your engagement with him.

He spent all night after such a ground-breaking announcement, awake and thinking of all the possibilities of why you would ever want to break off your engagement with him. All he could think of were the 2 men who were close to you.

"It's all their faults...I need to marry her soon..." he mumbled as he got up and got a paper, pen and his favorite quill.

A/N: Should I do the other guys? This is connected to my previous post so I hoped you enjoyed it. Sorry it took so long to post another story.

#yandere oc x reader #yandere x reader #yandere duke x reader #yandere male #yandere male x reader #yandere duke #yandere x you

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flowerandblood · 1 month

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The Fall from the Heavens (28)

[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: mention of masturbation, public dirty talk, sexual tension, smut, angst, swearing ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Even though he had expected nothing else, his wife's reaction completely devastated him anyway − her words cut through him like daggers, showing him his own face in the light of the truth.

What should I do now?

Divorce you?

Not speak to you for eight years?

He didn't know what he should answer.

The realisation that he was constantly searching for fault in her because he felt guilty himself, that he was accusing her of betrayal because he had betrayed her himself, caused him to no longer know who he was anymore. He felt so lost and heartbroken that he had simply burst out crying in front of her like a child scolded by a parent.

He just wanted her to forgive him.

When she told him what Alys had seen in her dream and informed him of her conditions, even though he was dying at the thought of spending even one more day in this fortress, he sat down at her oak desk the next morning to write a letter to his brother-king.

My King, our half-sister has agreed to our terms, however, she makes her own demands. I have decided, in order to alleviate the situation, to travel with my wife to Dragonstone, where we are currently staying. We want to try to convince them to change their minds − one order from you is enough for me to return to King's Landing. Your loyal brother

His niece was furious with him − he had never seen her like this before and preferred not to address her at all when she spoke to him knowing that he would only make matters worse. He hoped that his conciliatory attitude and the fact that he had fulfilled her wish would make her calm down.

The thought that he wasn't her prisoner didn't comfort him, because he felt like one anyway.

Wherever he went he might encounter someone he didn't feel like looking at, so he preferred to stay in her chamber and bear it somehow.

As soon as she had left her quarters he rose from his chair and began to walk around her room, looking at the various objects on the shelves and bookcases − he looked through the books she was reading, finding with satisfaction that most of them were also in his possession in King's Landing.

He spotted her embroideries in one of the drawers, including those he remembered well from his childhood, and smiled involuntarily at the thought, wondering if she had kept them for the sake of memories.

He shuddered as the door to the chamber opened suddenly and he slid the drawer back in, turning with a rapidly beating heart − Daemon stood with his hands folded behind him, sighing heavily.

"− come, nephew − we must discuss many important matters −" He said with a kind of boredom, as if what he was speaking of was a duty he had no desire to perform at all.

"− I will not go anywhere with you, uncle − I am quite comfortable here −" He said lowly, looking away, frustrated.

Why did he always feel like a little child in his presence?

Daemon chuckled at his question.

"− it wasn't a request − come, let's have a walk −" He encouraged him in a ferocious, mocking tone from which he felt rage and a clench in his stomach.

He knew he couldn't refuse.

Daemon led him out of the fortress through one of the side entrances − he checked a few times before the sound of the sea surrounded them that the dagger he always carried with him was strapped to his belt.

They stepped out onto a gigantic white beach seeming to stretch on endlessly to him, with only the water to their left and high rising rocks and mountains to their right.

They were completely alone.

His uncle finally stopped and turned to him, looking at him for a moment without a word.

"− why did you suggest you spend the night in Dragonstone? −"

He licked his lips, feeling his heart stop at his question.

"− that was her wish −"

"− don't fucking lie to me or I will pierce your skull with my sword −"

He looked at him in disbelief, his jaw clenched so tight he felt like it was going to burst, his fingers involuntarily tightening into fists.

Silence fell again, the sound of the waves around them, their hair and tunics blowing in the wind.

It seemed to him that his uncle's gaze was piercing him to the core.

"− Larys Strong had his own plans for you − I couldn't let that happen −" He muttered at last.

"− does she know about this? −" He asked coldly.

He swallowed hard at the thought that he was referring to his wife.

"− yes −"

"− did you tell her before or after we came here? −"

He lowered his gaze already knowing what he was leading up to, he felt like his whole body was quivering.

"− after −"

Daemon snorted in annoyance, shaking his head as he looked out at the sea stretching before them.

"− you fucking cunt − I was supposed to personally deal with his rats overdue in the Eyrie, but you ruined my plan − though surely that's good for you −" He confessed looking at him out of the corner of his eye.

He felt a powerful, cold shiver run along his back at the thought that he knew everything.

He knew that they were about to be murdered.

And Rheanyra?

Seeing that he couldn't force out the question that was pressing on his lips his uncle laughed out loud.

"− the rider of the world's greatest dragon since Balerion's passing is unable to get a word out − shame has taken away your speech? − where is your pride that you always boasted so much? −" He continued, provoking him to explode, his heart pounding like mad.

What should he do?

How should he behave?

"− you are exactly as I assumed − you are still a boy who has lost an eye and who is waiting for his betrothed to come to comfort him − you are like a stone, unable to move on − my daughter has sacrificed everything for you, and you stand before me like some fool −"

"− what do you want from me, uncle? −"

"− no − what do YOU want − are you able to name it in your head, or are you like a child in a fog without your mother? −" He asked in a raised voice, frustrated, making him feel a hot wave of humiliation flowing through his body.

"− I want her to be safe −"

"− what happened in King's Landing? −"

"− I −"

"− fucking speak − and you'd better say the truth −"

"− your spies in the Red Keep didn't report it to you? −" He hissed, his uncle taking a step towards him, looking him straight in the eye.

"− you're trying my patience −"

He pressed his lips together feeling his heart rise to his throat, cold sweat running down his back.

"− my mother gave her moon tea without my knowledge − she wanted to be able to pact with you and give her to Lord Arryn's son −" He said dispassionately feeling, however, that his voice trembled. Daemon looked at him wordlessly.

"− and what have you done to punish those who wronged my daughter, and your wife? −"

He looked at him feeling his whole body freeze.

"− what would you have done to her if she had been the one to fail your trust? − if she tried to fight for her freedom, if she stood up to you and threatened your mother? −" He asked, stabbing his words into him like daggers .

He didn't know the answers to these questions.

He never wanted to ask himself them.

"− I did everything I could − she is my mother − you would expect the same from your daughter yourself −"

"− and yet she was the one who came to beg her own mother to surrender her claim to the crown when yours was encouraging your brother to steal the throne that never belonged to him − gods, Viserys has taught you nothing, has he? − you see nothing but your mother's skirt to which you have always been clung −" He muttered with some kind of disgust from which he felt a cold, unpleasant shiver and discomfort in his stomach.

"− I regret − I regret that, seeing this, seeing Viserys fail you, seeing Otto make you his pawn, I was not a fatherly figure for you to follow − I did not, though it was my duty −"

He looked at him in disbelief, feeling with horror the burning under his eyelids. He laughed and shook his head, wishing he could somehow control what was happening to him − he hid his hands behind his back feeling how much they were trembling.

"− are you remorseful, uncle? − do you see that you yourself also contributed to the division of our family into two separate parts? −" He asked with mockery and regret in his voice feeling that he was weak.

What had happened in the last few days had completely destroyed him.

"− I want to hear the truth and I will ask for the last time − what do you want? −" His uncle asked with emphasis on the last sentence.

He shuddered, realising that deep down he knew what the answer was.

He always knew.

"− I wish it was all over − I wish I could take her to Essos, as I promised her − I am tired, uncle − I have been tired all my life − I only rest when she is by my side −"

Daemon looked at him for a long moment and let out a loud breath, looking out to sea. They stood like that, not speaking to each other.

"− is there anything else you have hidden from her? −" He asked coldly, and he felt a squeeze in his throat at the memory of the Witch of Harrenhal's words.

You will betray her at the moment she trusts you the most.

You will achieve victory, but she will never let you touch herself again.

You will put your child inside me, your bastard son, who will rule Harrenhal after our death.

He raised his eyes to his uncle and met his gaze, proud and distrustful, his heart pounding like mad in his chest.

"− I −"

"− speak −"

"− there is − there is a woman in Harrenhal, called by some a witch − she came to me last morning and −"

"− did you take her to your bed? −"

His voice stuck in his throat at his question, so he shook his head quickly, horrified.

"− no, but she said − she prophesied to me that this would happen − that − that I would put my child inside her −" He muttered, feeling with what difficulty those words left his mouth. Daemon raised his eyebrows in disbelief and rolled his eyes.

"− and? − if she said so, now there's nothing left for you to do but put your cock inside her? − don't make me laugh −" He sneered, shaking his head as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"− she can predict the future − I −"

"− are you listening to me, or have you not only gone blind but deaf? − if she told you that you would run away with her to Essos and beget twenty children with her would you believe her too? − she told you exactly what she wanted to happen − she hopes to still use you in the future by doing so, and you reflecting on her words are doing exactly what she wants − I don't know any man who would put his cock into a woman by accident or by fate − pull yourself together −" He said impatiently, causing a warm wave of embarrassment to surge through him.

He thought he really was a fool.

How could he have believed her with such ease?

Though he didn't want to admit it to himself, his words brought him relief.

"− do you have anything else to convey to me? − this is your last chance −" He asked coldly, and he shook his head.

"− very well − I'm glad we've got it behind us − you may leave −" He said dryly; he pressed his lips together at his words and simply walked away, swallowing his dignity and pride.

As he stepped into his wife's chamber he noticed her seated figure out of the corner of his eye, but he did not say a word to her − he felt humiliated and tired and did not feel like making conversation.

He also recognised that she certainly still hadn't forgiven him, so they might as well keep quiet.

He therefore sat down with one of her books by the fire, trying to concentrate on what he saw before him and not on his uncle's words.

I regret that, seeing this, seeing Viserys fail you, seeing Otto make you his pawn, I was not a fatherly figure for you to follow.

Though some part of him did not want to admit it, he knew that subconsciously he had been waiting for those words, for any praise or appreciation from him, the Rouge Prince himself, the greatest warrior and dragon rider he had seen in his lifetime.

So why did he feel so bad about what he had said to him?

You are still a boy who has lost an eye and who is waiting for his betrothed to come to comfort him.

My daughter has sacrificed everything for you, and you stand before me like some fool.

He swallowed hard, knowing that there was partly truth in his words.

For some reason though he wanted to, he couldn't completely free himself from the past and move on.

"− Jace kissed me − on the lips −"

He lifted his gaze to her from his book thinking he had overheard himself. He felt a wave of anger and disbelief surge through his body when he noticed in her gaze that she wasn't mocking him.

She meant it.

"− he did WHAT? −" He growled, getting up from his seat, throwing his book on the table and leaving immediately thinking he was going to kill this fucking bastard with his own hands.

When he finally walked into the right chamber he breathed heavily and grinned, feeling as if all the frustration, the things that had been happening to him after his conversation with his wife and uncle were going to find release at this very moment.

Jace stood up from his chair, pale at the sight of him, clearly knowing exactly what awaited him.

"− haven't you learned yet not to take what's not yours? − hm? −" He murmured teasingly, feeling the presence of his niece beside him, the scent of vanilla filling his lungs again.

"− Aemond −"

"− your sister when we were children told me that she never desired you as a man − she knew even then that you were a cunt −" He sneered, cocking his head to the side, resting his weight on his right leg, watching curiously as his nephew turned all red with embarrassment.

"− Aemond, that's enough −"

"− how dare you? − you are a guest under our roof − get out −" Baela growled, his smile widening even more at the sight of her, her lips tightening into a thin line.

He thought he would love to hit her in the face again before he remembered that she was a woman.

What a pity.

His wife appeared suddenly in front of him, looking at him warningly.

"− we are leaving −"

He felt like laughing at her words.

Her brothers were getting away with far too many things.

"− no − I'm speaking with my nephew −" He said sweetly, looking his nephew straight in the eye thinking with amusement that this time would be different.

"− we are leaving, uncle, or I swear I will never return with you to King's Landing −"

"− so I'll stay here with you − Jace as ruler of Dragonstone will surely be delighted to host us, won't he? − he seems to have a weakness for you, sweet wife −" He muttered in a voice filled with challenge and poison seeing that Baela looked at her betrothed in disbelief.

Always pretending to be so righteous, so wronged.

He was nothing more than a pathetic brat who was once again reaching for what didn't belong to him.

"− Jace, say something at last! −" Baela thundered, clearly wanting Jace to stop being a scared cunt, which unfortunately he was unable to do.

He could feel his own heart pounding fast, his hands clenched into fists, his breathing quick and deep.

He was ready to attack him, he was ready to rip him to shreds.

Some part of him wanted to do it.

A fucking would-be King.

You'll never sit on the throne − he thought with satisfaction − and in my wife's eyes you were never a man she could desire.

"− I made a mistake − I shouldn't have done it, forgive me − I −" He mumbled in horror as he looked at his niece with pleading eyes.

Did he really think that he would let him hide behind her skirt like a coward?

That he would allow him to escape the consequences of his foolishness again?

"− you made a mistake? − I seem to be able to understand the feeling − I have made a similar one many times, as well as others, even worse ones −" He hissed grabbing her cheeks, heard her draw in a loud breath, shocked, as his lips pressed against hers in a hot, aggressive kiss − she moaned quietly as his slick tongue forced its way deep into her throat with his low sigh of delight.

He pulled away and met her simultaneously terrified, enraged and thirsty gaze − she only mewled when he turned her with a confident tug with her back against him and pressed her figure against his chest, gripping her neck with one hand, the other sliding down her lower abdomen.

He involuntarily licked his lower lip when he felt her fingers tighten on his wrist trying to stop him from doing what he wanted to do, her mouth parted in disbelief.

"− so beautiful, isn't she, nephew? − I couldn't help myself either − I can't count how many times I took her − how many times I have filled her with my seed − right here −" He breathed out, not really understanding himself what he was actually doing, focusing more on her than on them as he dug his fingertips into her womanhood lying beneath the material of her gown.

Her head was tilted back, her thighs clenched, her lips struggling to hold back the moan from which his erection slapped impatiently against her buttocks in his breeches.

He thought he will fuck her with his fingers in front of his eyes.

"− u-uncle − stop −"

In fact, he had to stop when Daemon walked into the chamber − the ashamed, horrified expression on Jace's face who couldn't even look at them and the accusing look his betrothed turned towards him was reward enough for him.

He wanted to watch his world, everything he desired burn and fall apart in his hands.

He wanted him to know what it felt like.

He knew his wife enough to know that her rage was mixed halfway with the desire and tension he himself felt. He wanted to respect her request not to take her and break it at the same time, feeling that he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, so he did something that stopped halfway between both, coming with a sigh of relief on the material of her nightgown when he heard her moans of sweet fulfilment.

He wanted nothing more after this than to lock her in his arms and fall asleep.

"− let me embrace you −" He muttered.

"− no −" Her frustrated, trembling voice answered him.

He huffed loudly, heartbroken, at the same time understanding her and longing to take refuge again in the warmth that the closeness of her body gave him. In a gesture of desperation, he simply pressed his face against her neck, taking in her scent.

"− move away, uncle −"

"− I inhale the wonderful scent of vanilla after having experienced fulfilment with my wife −"

"− your wife does not wish for this −"

"− sleep −"

He heard her sigh heavily, annoyed, but said nothing more. When he finally felt she had fallen asleep, his hand slowly touched her waist and slid to other side, taking its place on her warm lower abdomen.

"− no −" He heard her quiet, unclear mumble, her body stirring in his embrace.

"− shhh − let me −" He whispered in her ear, his lips placing a soft, warm kiss on her cheek.

"− mhm −" She muttered, twisting towards him immersed in a deep sleep − he sighed heavily as her body involuntarily clung to his, her face sinking into the hollow of his neck.

He swallowed hard, feeling the squeeze in his heart and the tears under his eyelids that, one by one, began to run down his cheeks as his hands wove through her hair and the material of her nightgown at her back, pressing her close to his body.

He thought that for some reason during the nights he spent with her he was most vulnerable and weak, her presence, the warmth of her flesh, her closeness made him feel as if something was melting inside him, not allowing him to pretend that Daemon's words had not hurt him.

Despite repeating to himself that his uncle's words meant nothing to him, as a child he had looked up to him, dreaming of being like him − fearless, ironic, intelligent, confident, proud of his family and his heritage.

I regret that, seeing this, seeing Viserys fail you, seeing Otto make you his pawn, I was not a fatherly figure for you to follow.

He pressed his lips together at that thought, at his words, which cut into his heart like a sword, because although he had tried to find his pattern of masculinity in his father, in his older brother, in his grandfather, in Ser Criston, it was his uncle that his gaze had always followed, it was his uncle's reaction that he looked at when he and his father watched them duel.

He never heard a single warm word from his lips.

The fact that he was his mother's son had crossed him out in his eyes, and he had no intention of apologising for anything.

So what was he to do with his words?

That he did not know − nor did he know what purpose the conversation had served or why he had told him about the Witch of Harrenhal. He thought with shame that guilt and fear had crushed him so much that he had to get it off his chest, and he had chosen the worst person to do so.

What if he uses this against him?

Poison his daughter's thoughts with words that her husband feared that he would betray her in the future, beget a bastard child with another woman?

He felt a cold shudder run through his body at the thought, but for some reason he had a feeling that this would not happen.

She told you exactly what she wanted to happen.

She hopes to still use you in the future by doing so, and you reflecting on her words are doing exactly what she wants.

He was right.

This woman, whoever she was, was playing with him and his wife.

He thought she was hoping to frighten them both and lead them to lose trust in each other.

That this was perhaps also part of Larys' plan.

He had no intention of killing his wife.

He wanted her to do it herself.

That thought, that realisation flashed through his body like a flame, his fingers clamped down on her flesh as he swallowed hard, feeling some kind of indescribable relief, finding meaning in it at last.

They knew that if his wife disappeared, he would join the war.

He sighed quietly, thinking with surprising calmness in his soul, stroking his wife's soft, dark curls with his fingers, that he would cut off the heads of all the vipers plotting against her, one by one.

He intended to personally inform his brother what their grandfather and Lord Strong were planning to do behind his back.

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sorcerersandskillusers · 5 days

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Fyodor and the Devil: Analysis of Fyodor's motives and role in the narrative

Asagiri has stated that he based Fyodor not on Dostoyevsky the author but on a specific scene from one of his books The Brothers Karamazov where Ivan Karamazov confronts “the devil” in his room.

(It's a really good book, you should read it if you have time. Also. fun fact, Fyodor and the devil wear the same hat, “His soft fluffy white hat was out of keeping with the season.”)

Having read the book and gone over this scene, I realized that this could be used to find out a lot more about Fyodor as a character than we see in the story, including a potential glimpse at his real motivations.

A bit of context for the scene. Ivan Kramazov is a clever but deeply trouble man who has struggling with the concept of God and rationalising him with the cruelty of humanity, at one point while very sick, Ivan starts seeing a man in his room who claims to be “the devil”. Their conversation is a fascinating look at morality and why evil exists in the world, and if you look at it closely it reveals a lot about the role of a “villain” in a story.

This line from “the devil” is really interesting to me, and seems to explain a lot about Fyodor’s character, as well as align perfectly with how Asagiri has described Fyodor in interviews:

Before time was, by some decree which I could never make out, I

was predestined 'to deny' and yet I am genuinely good-hearted and not at all inclined to negation.

'No, you must go and deny, without denial there's no criticism and what would a journal be without a column of criticism?'

Without criticism it would be nothing but one 'hosannah.' But nothing but hosannah is not enough for life, the hosannah must be tried in the crucible of doubt and so on, in the same style. But I don't meddle in that, I didn't create it, I am not answerable for it. Well, they've chosen their scapegoat, they've made me write the column of criticism and so life was made possible.

Basically the devil is saying that he was created because without evil then good means nothing, if everything was perfect then nothing would happen or change, life couldn’t exist, so he was forced to be that evil even though he never wanted to be.

This is so similar to how Fyodor is described in the BSD exposition 2020:

Fyodor is the antagonist, he is the villain of the story, that is the role he plays. This explains why he chooses to commit so many atrocities in the name of “following God's plan”. It even connects to his line in The Dead Apple, and his ability name. He is both crime and punishment, as “crime” or sin originates with the devil, but it's also the devil who punishes sinners.

(I mean the title of the episode he is introduced in is literally “My Ill Deeds Are the Work of God” by committing evil acts he is fulfilling God's purpose for him.)

And if Fyodor is really based on “the devil” it's very likely he also either does or used to wish for release from this role that was assigned to him, but he knows that he cannot stray from his path or the story will cease to exist. My evidence for Fyodor wanting to be free of his mission is just one interaction, when he kills Karma.

Look at Fyodor's expression here, this is the only time in the entire series where we see him look truly sad. This isn't an act, there is no one there for him to trick, he simply says a quiet prayer for the life of a boy who's only purpose was to suffer and die.

This next part of “the devils” speech actually seems to fit very well for Dazai, it's interesting since he is the narrative foil to Fyodor and clearly is a very similar character.

We understand that comedy; I, for instance, simply ask for annihilation. No, live, I am told, for there'd be nothing without you.

If everything in the universe were sensible, nothing would happen. There would be no events without you, and there must be events. So against the grain I serve to produce events and do what's irrational because I am commanded to.

For all their indisputable intelligence,men take this farce as something serious, and that is their tragedy. They suffer, of course... but then they live, they live a real life, not a fantastic one, for suffering is life. Without suffering what would be the pleasure of it? It would be transformed into an endless church service; it would be holy, but tedious. But what about me? I suffer, but still, I don't live. I am x in an indeterminate equation. I am a sort of phantom in life who has lost all beginning and end, and who has even forgotten his own name.

This ties perfectly into Dazai and Fyodor’s debate on the nature of God in the sky casino arc.

Dazai here points out that it's not perfection and harmony that make the world move, it's the irrational, it's the foolishness and stupidity of humans who charges into life making a million mistakes but always finding ways to fight on through it. Here Dazai and Fyodor represent the conflicting sides of “the devil” with Fyodor embodying his mission to drive the world and Dazai embodying his secret love for, and wish to join, humanity.

“I love men genuinely, I've been greatly calumniated! Here when I stay withyou from time to time, my life gains a kind of reality and that's what I like most of all. Yousee, like you, I suffer from the fantastic and so I love the realism of earth. Here, with you, everything is circumscribed, here all is formulated and geometrical, while we have nothing but indeterminate equations! I wander about here dreaming. I like dreaming. Besides, on earth I become superstitious. Please don't laugh, that's just what I like, to become superstitious. I adopt all your habits here: I've grown fond of going to the public baths, would you believe it?

And I go and steam myself with merchants and priests. What I dream of is becoming incarnate once for all and irrevocably in the form of some merchant's wife weighing eighteen stone, and of believing all she believes. My ideal is to go to church and offer a candle in simple-hearted faith, upon my word it is. Then there would be an end to my sufferings.”

“"Why not, if I sometimes put on fleshly form? I put on fleshly form and I take the consequences. Satan sum et nihil humanum a me alienum puto."*

* I am Satan, and deem nothing human alien to me.”

This piece from the devil feels like it could be a description of Dazai’s character, his wish above all else to find happiness and love as a human despite believing he is a demon. Both Dazai and Fyodor have strong ties to the Devil, both of them are often described as demonic or inhuman, with emphasis placed on the darkness of their souls and the isolation they feel due to their minds.

But the difference between them is how they dealt with it, Fyodor chose to embrace it and fully commit to his role in the story as the ultimate evil for the greater good, but Dazai has always shown a fasciation with humans and has spent his life trying to connect to them and find meaning in his existence.

Finally, let's look at what we can learn about Fyodor’s motivation. Fyodor is the villain, he is the final obstacle the protagonist has to overcome, he is the driving force behind so much of Atsushi’s life and the reason so much of the series has played out at all. He sent Shibusawa to torture Atsushi as a child, he was an informant to the guild who put the bounty on Atsushi making the mafia turn on him, he was involved in the guild invasion, and obviously he was the master mind behind cannibalism and Decay of Angles.

If he is aware of his position as the antagonist, then he also is probably aware Atsushi is the protagonist, he knew he was the “envy of all ability users” after all, so he knows Atsushi has some significance to the world as a whole.

Atsushi is also the “guide to the book” which is seemingly Fyodor’s end goal, so even though Fyodor doesn’t seem to be focused on Atsushi, he has been indirectly influencing his whole journey up to this point. This also explains why Fyodor is only moving actively now, because the protagonist has appeared and his role as the villain can finally be fulfilled and he, like “the devil” can finally get the “annihilation” he asked for. Hence, Fyodor’s true goal is to erase himself from the narrative.

There is actually quite a lot of evidence for this. The obvious part is that Fyodor wants to rid the world of ability users while he himself is an ability user, he cannot exist in his perfect world.

Then there’s the fact that in the Dead Apple, Fyodor calls himself “crime” if Fyodor is “crime” or “sin” then a world free of sin would not contain him at all

Even when Fyodor talks about sin, he says how humans are easily manipulated into killing each other, while he constantly manipulates characters into killing each other, he is the cause of the sin he fights.

A really strong bit of evidence is this interview with Asagiri and Harukawa

Not only does Asagiri reiterate Fyodors role as the person who moves the story, Harukawa specifically mentions that Fyodor might be trying to create a world without ability users because he thought it was a “bad thing to do” aka the action a villain would take that would lead to a hero stopping them.

“Dos-san is the biggest villain in the story so far, but I have continued to draw him with spaced out eyes that are neither righteous nor evil for a long time. The only time I drew his eyes completely white was when he said he would create a world without skill users. It was because, in reality, we would decide what is evil or not by our own scales, but I wasn't sure if he himself was doing it because he thought that was a bad thing to do.”

This also connects to how Fyodor was able to understand Gogol when no one else could, Gogol is chooses to fight against the way the world is to prove to himself that he truly is free. Fyodor, who is bound to play a part in a narrative, would understand that feeling and that longing to be truly free.

To be clear, I don’t think that Fyodor is really a good person whose just been trapped in an awful position against his will, we see many times that Fyodor revels in his cruelty and enjoys killing and torturing others. Its the same with “the devil” in the book, although he hates the job he was given, he tells Ivan stories of the people he’s corrupted and seems very proud of himself for it.

My personal interpretation is that the sadistic zelot personality Fyodor displays is a mixture of a mask and a coping mechanism, kind of similar to Yosano developing a sadistic side to help her deal with the guilt of half killing people in order to heal them. I think it makes sense that after centuries of cruelty and manipulation a person would become detached and stop really caring about the lives he destroys.

This analysis is partially unfinshed but I wanted to post it now and see what other people think of it.

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reallyromealone · 7 months

Text

That's not a pet! That's a possible boyfriend!

Malleus x male reader

Fluff

Sorry if I didn't get his personality perfect, I'm not used to writing his character

🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇

Goodness it felt great to soak in the sunlight, (name) thought as he stretched in bunny form in the school gardens, a place off to the side where many didn't go thus perfect for (name) to relax in.

Or so he thought.

He was almost passing out under the warm sunlight when a hand gently pet down his back "a bunny here? How peculiar" the voice of none other than Mallues spoke out and (name) was to shocked to say the least as the horned young man sat down and began petting him "there's not many rabbits where I live one so please don't mind me petting you" (name) hasn't heard him be this gentle and soft in tone, usually his tone was more... Well Malleus!

(Name) couldn't help but relax under the gentle pets and scratches, leaning into the touch but ssdly this meant the Fae prince thought it would be ok to lift the little bunny in his arms and begin walking off, still petting him.

(Name) thought he was just petting him! Then he could go about his day and pretend that his crush didn't just pet him! Oh gosh he should transform! Why isn't he transforming!

(Name) wanted to die oh gosh!

People stared as Malleus walked past, the rather intimidating black haired prince was holding an adorable and absolutely petrified looking bunny who didn't know what to do. It was comical really but (name) was having a small melt down.

"What...what do you have there young master" Lilia was more than amused as he watched his ward carry a tiny rabbit that looked awfully familiar... Wait.

"I found him, I wish to keep him"

"I don't believe you can keep him sadly" Lilia said almost giggling at this and malleus looked confused "he sits behind you in potions, the poor thing looks petrified" he snickered and walked to the bunny and took him gently before placing him on the dorm grounds and before there eyes was (name) looking more than flustered, pulling his ears infront of his face but the slight wiggle of his tail said otherwise as he refused to meet /anyone's/ gaze "I-I should be going... I-uh... Yeah" (name) just wanted die right there as he quickly darted out and bolted to his dorm.

His room was turned into a burrow, blankets and pillows thrown around into a wonderful safe place for him to sleep, do homework and at moments like this? Panic.

"I let my crush carry me around like a plush toy, I let him pet me! Why didn't I stop him?! Oh god he probably thinks I'm so weird and won't even want to look at me oh god!"

(Name) downright avoided malleus, embarrassed and humiliated and just wanted to wallow in sadness but fate or better yet professor Crewel had better plans.

(Name) sat awkwardly in the library with malleus, unable to say a word as he stared at his portion of the project "you have soft ears" Malleus said passively and (name) froze before responding"t-thank you, you pet good" oh god kill him please oh god.

"Do you fear me?" Malleus asked bluntly to the flustered man who looked at him so fast he almost got whiplash "why would you think I fear you?"

"You don't look at me"

"Well... You already pet me so no need for ruining anything" (name) took a deep breath before speaking again "I like you, like in a romantic way and I know you probably think I'm weird or don't wa--""I don't think your weird" Malleus cut the rabbit off and looked at him "I have developed romantic feelings for you as well"

(Name) was practically vibrating with joy "oh this is wonderful! I promise to be a good boyfriend!" (Name) says happily and Malleus felt his heart grow warm "I return the promise, could I pet your ears again?"

#twisted wonderland x male reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #anime x male reader #anime x reader #malleus draconia #twst malleus #malleus x reader #malleus x male reader

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margotw10bis · 6 months

Text

Blank Pages. JJK [m]

bestfriend!jungkook x reader

Genre: one-shot; smut; romance; non-idol!jk; f2l

Words: 8k

Synopsis: You have a secret: you're a popular writer on Wattpad. The worst thing that could happen is your best friend Jungkook to discover that your erotic novels are about him...

Warning: protected sex; oral sex (f. receiving); writing of sex scenes

JK was pounding into me at an animalistic pace. I couldn't help screaming his name due to the overstimulation of the three precedent orgasms. His grip around my hips tightened as he was reaching his high. A few more dick strokes were provided before I could feel his hot shots of cum inside my pussy.

It didn't take long for the both of us to fall asleep, exhausted by the intense sex ride.

Your cheeks are red when you finish posting the new chapter of your story on your Wattpad account. Vivid images of the imaginary roll in the hay fill your brain — and your panties with wetness. You always feel the same after writing a sex scene starring your best friend: horny and guilty. You can't imagine how Jungkook would react if he knew he was the main character of a popular erotic online novel... You would die of embarrassment, knowing your best friend, whom you are madly in love with, had discovered your deepest sexual fantasies — featuring him. On the other hand, writing those filthy stories is your way to control both your feelings and your desires. Jungkook is your best friend, you can't risk your friendship.

You didn't have any thoughts other than trying to contain your sexual attraction for him when you created your Wattpad account. You had never thought that so many people would read your stories. You can't deny that you feel kind of proud that people love your writings but you also feel horrified that so many strangers are fantasying — and obviously masturbating — on your best friend. You are so glad that you kind of anonymized him by using his nickname JK. You mean, people could think it stands for Jin-Keon, right?

Just as if you needed some reminder that your writing is nothing but fiction, your phone screen brights up to notify a new message from the very same Jungkook.

'Hi, buddy! We're going to the club with the guys, wanna join?'

You hate so much when Jungkook calls you 'buddy'. It's so far away from the nicknames you wish he'd give you. In your stories, JK always uses 'baby', 'babe', sweetheart' and this is what you want... Not a stupid 'buddy' like you were his classmate in sixth grade!

You growl in frustration and answer that you're too tired and you're just going to bed. Your best friend replies that he is disappointed not to see you tonight and you hate how your weak stupid heart melts at that. You are also disappointed not to see him tonight or every single day of your life. You wish you could go home after work and know that Jungkook is waiting for you before heading to bed, together. You know damn well those are silly thoughts and maybe that's why they hurt so much. They are too far away from reality.

As you think.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

You hum, half-asleep as you feel something moving against you. You tighten your arms around the thing next to you to keep it still. However, it moves again to softly caress your hair.

"Y/N, let's go to bed" A whispered voice says

You lowly growl and bury your face deeper into the thing you're hugging. If you weren't in this sleepy state, you could notice that what you have in your arms is actually Jungkook. He doesn't really mind and it's not the first time your movie night ends up with you falling asleep. He'd just let you gradually collapse on him because he knows you always feel cold when you are sleeping. So he is happy to provide some warmth while you're visiting Morpheus' world. He even rested his arm around your shoulders to be a little more comfortable to watch the end of the movie — and enjoying this excuse to hug you.

But now, the film has ended and the couch is not the best place for a full night of slumber. Jungkook sighs when he accepts the fact that you just won't wake up. He tries, as gently as he can, to stand up and lifts you up in his arms. He pushes his bedroom door open with his foot, which causes him to almost loose balance. Finally, his mission is a success when he lands you on his bed without waking you. He smiles softly as he looks at you. He wonders what you are dreaming about right now. Are you having nightmares because of the horror movie? Or are you in a happy place full of your loved ones? He hopes for the latest.

He heads to the bathroom, brushes his teeth and joins you in bed. He knows you don't bother sleeping with him — it's not the first time either. And honestly, if he knew your feelings for him, he could be even more aware of how poorly you care. He makes sure the covers are tightly wrapped around you and scoots closer to hug you. He likes how your smaller body fits in his embrace — it's way better than his usual pillow. He gives you a small peck on the top of your hair and follows you in dreamland.

The sunlight coming through the unwell closed curtains wakes you up. You're surprised not to feel cold as usual in the morning. You want to lift your hand to rub your swollen eyes but you can't: something, or more like someone is completely wrapped around you. Your eyes snap open when you realize it's Jungkook. You turn your head and your heart melts at the sight: his sleepy face is so cute, especially with his pouty lips. You're close enough to clearly see his scar on the cheek as well as the little molds on his nose and under his lower lip. You wish you could taste its softness. You move carefully to free one arm and you caress your best friend's hair as softly as you can to not wake him up. You almost moan when you feel how silky it is underneath your fingertips. God, Jungkook is so perfect that it hurts to look at him.

Your heart beats fast in your chest due to the proximity but it suddenly stops when Jungkook, in his sleepless, presses you closer against his body. And then, you feel it. As clear as day. His morning wood. It stands hard against your lower belly and you gulp. Does your saliva drive straight to your pussy? Because your panties are now soaked. Oh god, Jungkook's cock is pressed against you and you love it. All kind of sinful scenarios take control of your brain and you wish your best friend was a sleepwalker but more like a sleepfucker. Okay, you are clearly deranged...

A normal person would try to bring some space between your two bodies but you do the opposite: you scoot closer, almost grinding on his boner.

Small sleepy growls from Jungkook make you stop moving as you really don't want your best friend to know how much of a sexual freak he is turning you into.

"Good morning, goober" Jungkook says with his sexy raspy voice before kissing your forehead

"Hi" You reply with cheeks as red as a tomato

Fuck, you still feel his dick but Jungkook doesn't seem in a rush of stepping away. Does he not feel it? Or maybe he does and he needs some friction because he fucking holds you tighter. You wish you could feel embarrassed but it's not the main emotion you experience: your horniness takes the most of you. If Jungkook doesn't release you soon, you could jump on him to ride him. Perhaps all the hot sex scenes you have written are messing up with your brain and you can't distance fantasy from reality.

(Un)fortunately, your best friend frees you to stretch. You try your best not to peak at the tent of the sheets caused by his hard-on. Jungkook leaves the bed and stands up in front of you, asking about breakfast with a very distant — according to you — voice. However, you can't focus on any words he is saying because the only thing that gets your attention is his — huge — bulge in his boxing shorts. He clearly doesn't wear any briefs and your mouth waters at the fact there is just one layer of fabric separating you from his cock — and also a whole moral code but you can't care about it right now. On the hand, it's not like Jungkook would stop you but you don't have any idea of it. A sparkle of playfulness brightens his doe eyes as he notices how you are gazing at his dick.

"Are you even listening to me?" Jungkook asks while snapping his fingers right in front of your face

"I-Jungkook, you..." You start but struggle to find the words that won't make you look like a sexual freak

"What?"

"You, uhm, seem to be awaken" You eventually decide to say

Jungkook looks at you with a faked questioning face and you point at this crotch. Rather than to be embarrassed, your best friend smirks proudly.

"Impressed, right?" He teases you and your cheeks take a new brighter tint of red

"Jungkook!" You scold him but you secretly are impressed by his obvious blessed area — way bigger than you have wrote

Your best friend just laughs with his childlike cheerful chuckle and announces that he'll cook some rice with sausages. You fall back on the bed, sighing in frustration. Jungkook is driving you crazy and you wish you could take off his wry smile by sitting on his pretty face. However, you decide it would be wiser to just sit on a chair and have breakfast with him.

"I could like to go to Songdo Beach today and go on a ride of the Busan AirCruise" You say at one point, your mouth full of food which makes barely impossible for Jungkook to understand you

"Why? You already did it a hundred of times"

"But it's raining today!" You pout "You know I love the atmosphere the rain gives to the skyline"

Your best friend does know it. You have told him countless of times how relaxing you find the sound of the rain on the glass cable car and the pale blue, almost lavender color, the Busan sky gets tinted on rainy days. Jungkook sighs to pretend it's a burden to go with you but you both know he likes it too.

As usual, the queue is not that long. Busan people tend to stay home or to take shelter in the numerous trendy coffees. What a shame people don't appreciate how nice it is to fly upon the near ocean while raindrops surround you. As usual, Jungkook buys the tickets for the two of you. You don't quite understand why he insists every time to pay but you can't deny it is heart-warming. Your best friend knows it's one of the things you love the most in life so he just wants you to enjoy it entirely.

A soft smile paints your lips as you step in the cable car. Slowly elevating you in the sky, you watch the nearby buildings growing away between the big and round drops of water. The sight is blurred yet so poetic. The glass floor allows you to take a peak at the waves and if you look at the ocean side, you can see some huge cargo boats, waiting in Busan bay to deliver their merchandise.

The calm atmosphere, enhanced by the melody of the rain on the glass, soothes you. However, Jungkook couldn't just let you be and he suddenly moves to make the cable car swing. You scream and scold him which only makes him laugh. As usual.

"Let's take a picture" Jungkook says while pulling off his phone from his oversized bomber jacket pocket

Then, he sits next to you and frames to crystalize both your two faces and the skyline in the background on the photo. You and your best friend smile brightly. If someone asks Jungkook right now, he could say that it's one of sunniest days ever because of how radiant you are.

"A last one" Jungkook announces

He clicks on the button to snap the picture at the exact moment he pecks your cheek. The photo clearly notifies how surprised you were, your eyes growing wider and your mouth slightly opened. However, your shy face mixed with your blushed cheeks make you really, really cute in Jungkook's opinion. He can only chuckle as he gazes at the picture with affection eyes. He will definitely make it his new wallpaper.

However, the small peck you have received from your best friend moves you more than it should. Your heart beats so loud in your chest that it seems to echoes down to your toes. You try to calm down and you resonate: it doesn't mean anything for your best friend. It's just a small friendly peck. Fuck, you write some erotic stories in which the characters fuck like beasts, you can't be all shaken up by a stupid kiss on the cheek!

You soothe your crazy heart by focusing on the view of the grey tinted skyline and on the few people defying the rain with their umbrellas. Deep down, you know it's the best memory you will have on the Busan cable car despite the numerous times you went on.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

"What do you think about this one?" Jungkook asks you a few days later while presenting another shirt in a dark blue color

You try hard to put a smile on your face to hide your painful chest. Does your best friend have any idea that helping him choosing an outfit for his date is torture for you? You could wince at the pain if you didn't have to act like normal.

"I think the white one is better" You answer nonetheless "You can't go wrong with it"

Jungkook nods and then finishes you completely: he casually takes off his t-shirt, flashing you with his so perfect buff chest. If it's true that you sometimes gripe when your best friend spends two hours at the gym, you are so thankful of it now. You practically drool when your eyes run through his flexing biceps — the right one delicately wrapped with ink —, his well-defined pecs and his fucking hot abs. You almost faint when your glance ends up its route on his very low pants, making his V-line and the hem of his black underwear visible. His skin seems so soft, your fingertips tickle at the thought of touching it. Fuck, this is better than anything you have ever written. You gulp when you think about all the nasty things you could like to do with Jungkook's torso.

"So, what do you think?"

Jungkook's question snaps you out of your fantasies but you have absolutely no idea of what he is talking about. Suddenly, the thread escaping from your jeans is very much interesting and you just pray that Jungkook hasn't noticed how you were eying him.

"About what?" You timidly ask

"Gogi Yummy, the restaurant I'm taking her to. Do you think it's a good idea?"

Your heart squeezes painfully when you think about Jungkook having a perfect date, doing everything you could like him to do, with someone else. You wish you could be a good best friend and be happy for him but the truth is that you love him too much not to feel hurt when he is going on a date.

"I think it's great" You reply as cheerful as you can be but still not looking to him in an attempt to hide the hurt in your eyes

"What about you?" Your best friend suddenly asks

"What about me?" You repeat his words with confusion, brows furrowed

"When are you going on a date?" He clarifies

You sigh while notifying him that you don't have time to look for a date. The real reason is obviously your feelings for Jungkook, you don't want anyone else but him.

"You know Jimin, right? The last time I saw him, he told me you were cute. Maybe you should give him a chance" Jungkook tells you with an encouraging tone but you only wince, which makes him sigh "Look, if my date goes well, we'll do something together, the four of us. This way, you won't feel pressured. How does it sound?"

Awful. But there is no way you'd confess that, especially when Jungkook is looking at you with his sparkling doe eyes and his so cute bunny smile. So you tell him that it's a great idea and you hope, even more than before, that his date is a disaster so you don't have to go on a double-date during which you won't be the partner of the person you love.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

JK was drawing delicious patterns on my clit with his tongue. I couldn't help tugging on his raven hair, not really knowing if it was to stop him or to urge him to do it harder. My breathe was cut when I felt a long and thick finger sliding into me, automatically making my walls clench around it.

"I'm close"I told JK, which provoked a proud smirk on his face

His only mission on Earth seemed to be providing me great orgasms — and he'd never failed.

"Come on, baby. Make me taste your yummy juices" He teased me, sending me on the edge

He stood up and took off this t-shirt so I could admire his delicate yet strong torso, the definition of perfection. His muscles were making me feel all kinds of butterflies in my stomach — or was it the remains of the orgasm? — and JK knew it well. He knew he was teasing me, and the way he was flexing his muscles proved me right. My mouth watered and my hand caressed the bulge of his six-pack. His tattoos always had an effect on me, making him as intriguing as sexy. A sin I wouldn't care to go to Hell for.

I wished I had time to enjoy it more but I had to go to work — JK's cunnilingus made me late as it made me come.

You save the last chapter and publish it on Wattpad. You stroll through the comments and smile when you read some very supportive ones. Almost every readers are in love with JK — only of they knew that real life Jungkook is one hundred times better. You sigh in content and close your laptop, ready to head to bed but your phone rings, stopping your plans of having a good and relaxing sleep.

'My date went great. Save your Friday night buddy cause we have a date ;)'

Why does your best friend have absolutely no clue of the draggers he is stabbing into your heart? To be fair, he went on this date because he thinks he doesn't stand a chance with you but you obviously don't know that. You growl and turn in your bed, tugging your sheets around you like if you were a burrito. Yes, going on a date with Jungkook is one of your dreams but going on a double-date with Jungkook having another date than you is a nightmare. You spend the night ramming through all the possible ways the date can go, which leads you to cry when scenarios of your best friend kissing a girl in front of you play in your mind.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

You growl while taking your clothes out of the washing machine. You don't what went wrong but it seems like every single pieces of clothing has sized down. Well, you could guess what went wrong: you were deep in thought and clicked on the wrong washing program. You sigh when you see your favorite dress... A slight and ridiculous hope that maybe it's not too bad makes you try it on, which takes you way more efforts than usual. But it only confirms what you thought: the red dress is now so tight that it looks like a second skin. The bottom hem barely covers your underwear and shows some of your ass in the back. And let's not talk about the neckline because it's worse: half of your bra is on display.

Of course, fate is never on your side — because it has been such a nice day so far. You hear your front door opening and it only means one thing: Jungkook is here. He is the only one to have a spare key — which was supposed to be for emergency but turned out to be a way to visit you without warning every time he is in the mood to. You start to panic but you don't have time to cover yourself as your best friend's pretty face appears. You feel embarrassed to show so much skin to Jungkook, even though you often fantasize about him seeing way much more. Shock — and some other expression that you could interpret as lust — paints his features. His eyes run through your very exposed body and your cheeks match the color of your 'dress'.

"Are you going to wear that?" Jungkook asks with a as natural as possible tone while he places his hands in front of his crotch to prevent you from noticing his growing boner

"Are you crazy?!" You defend yourself "I fucked up my laundry, that's all. I have no other choice than to throw away my favorite dress" You sigh in despair

On the other side, Jungkook likes the new style of the dress. It's now his favorite. Fuck, you're hot. You look so naughty. And it's even better when you turn around and some of your asscheeks are visible. He wonders how they would jiggle if he'd spanked you. He knows he shouldn't have this kind of thoughts about you but he can't help it. Your body is so fucking perfect. The peak he had of your big rounded tits, covered by your bra which led appear the shadow of your picky nipple, and the almost peak he had of your panties drive him mad. He does't think you should throw the dress away. You should keep it. For him. For when he fucks you.

Jungkook tries to get rid off those thoughts but his hard-on makes it difficult. When you send him off to change, he gladly accepts and opens your fridge, pretending he is looking for some soda, to let the cold soften his cock. You'll be the death of him.

"What are you doing here?" You asks, making your best friend jolt

Jungkook grabs a random can and turns around to discover you are now wearing your usual light green sweatpants and an oversized t-shit — former his, if he might add. You are really messing with his brain because earlier, with your tiny dress, he could pretend that his attraction was just a normal one of a guy seeing a sexily clothed girl. But now, even with a not so appealing outfit, he still thinks you're beautiful and hot.

You lift one brow when your best friend doesn't answer. Jungkook clears his throat and tries to gather his thoughts. He needs to focus on something other than you, otherwise he risks to cancel all his plans to fuck you against your washing machine.

"I wanted to ask you if you wanted to grab some food at PadThailand. It's been a while and I know you like it"

Your heart melts at the fact that Jungkook thought about you before ordering from one of your favorite restaurants. Your smile seems to illuminate the place, so much that your best friend wishes he had sunglasses. You nod with enthusiasm, spurring Jungkook to call the restaurant and book a table.

You've changed, for the third time of the day, into a simple jeans and long sleeves sailor top. You feel proud to match the area of PadThailand, the restaurant being close to one of the small ports of Busan. Delicious scents of fresh cooked fish fill the air, putting you in the mood of eating. You could even change your usual order and try the lemongrass cod fish. You giggle with eagerness, you can't wait to have your stomach full of delicious food.

"You look like you're in a good mood" Jungkook notices, a few meters from the restaurant location

"Of course!" You reply, cheerful "I'm going to one of my favorite restaurants and I'm with my favorite person"

You don't realize how your words made Jungkook stop his track. You continue your way to the door while Jungkook is trying his best to hide his wide bunny grin.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Friday night. The day of your 'date'.

You did make an effort on your outfit, opting for a cute black denim skirt and silver top. Actually, you were quite surprise when you stepped into the restaurant and discovered that your clothes matched Jungkook's. Your heart skipped a beat at the thought that people around you would mistake you two as a couple. However, the euphoria left soon as your eyes landed on your best friend's date: a gorgeous girl named Minji. It took you everything you have to smile at her and lie while saying 'nice to meet you'.

Thankfully, the awkward silence that was getting set at your table disappears with Jimin's arrival. You can't deny that the brown haired man is handsome. Honestly, if you weren't so head over heels for Jungkook, you could kill to kiss Jimin's pulp lips. You also like the white light cotton t-shirt with longs sleeves Jimin chose to wear: the thin fabric gives a peak of his dark inked patterns. Do you have a tattoo kink? Well, it's definitely Jungkook's fault.

After ordering some drinks and food, you are starting to think that the night is not a complete torture — despite the occasional kisses between Jungkook and Minji. The girl is actually very nice and tries her best to find common tastes between the two of you. It honestly would be way easier if she were a bitch... You can't even hate her!

Jimin, on the other hand, is funny and shares a lot of stories of his last holidays which were a rollercoaster of unpleasant events. You don't have to force yourself to laugh and genuinely find his company pleasant. Yet, you can't imagine having feelings for someone other than Jungkook. You love him like you've never loved before. He swipes away every competition without even trying. He is more handsome, funnier, nicer than anyone else. He knows you more than anyone and he knows how to help you before you can even say you need him. It's like he can read in your mind, what a shame he can't see in your heart that it's full of him...

However, Jungkook begins to regret having set a date for you. Yes, he is Minji's date but it's just an attempt to stop thinking of you. Actually, he thought that if you were with Jimin, it would help him putting an end at his stupid crush. But the dragger in his heart when you smile at Jimin is a clear reminder that it's not just a silly crush... Jimin is having everything Jungkook wants to have with you. He wants to take you at the restaurant, as a date, just the two of you. He genuinely had more fun at PadThailand with you the other day — when he could pretend it was a real date, even if it was just in his head — than now with Minji. But he thinks you'll refuse if he asks you out, you have never acted like Jungkook could be something other than your best friend.

"Hey, Y/N" Minji starts with a cheerfulness that you can imagine innate in her "You said you love reading. You should follow this Wattpad account"

She hands you her phone and you stop breathing when your very username appears on the screen. Your whole body freezes and your blood is redirected in your legs to run away.

"The author is so good! Her writing is amazing" Minji continues

The compliments would please you in other circumstances but right now, it's the worst thing ever.

"And fun fact, the character of JK makes me think of you" She adds as a killer shot for you when she turns to address Jungkook

You feel so ashamed that you just keep your head down, the phone giving you a great excuse for it. You wish you could just curl up and die. Oh my god, what if Jungkook reads it? What if he knows it's about him? He will definitely know JK is supposed to be him! And he will fucking know how you dream about him fucking you in all kind of lustful fantasies! He'll think you're sick and deranged, there is no other way. He'll think you are obsessed with him and will cut all ties with you. Your throat is so tight that you can't even breath properly. You need to escape, far and fast.

You wait ten minutes not to sound suspicious and then fake an emergency, lying that you have received a text from one of your friends. Jimin, so kind by nature, offers you to drop you off but you refuse, even though you do appreciate the gesture. You basically run away and yell a taxi to head home as fast as possible.

Panic takes control of your body, making you shake and breath heavily. You walk back and forth in your bedroom as you wonder how you are going to get rid off this troubled situation. You definitely can't delete your Wattpad account now, it'd look way too suspicious. The only thing that soothe you is that Jungkook doesn't like reading so he won't look at your — erotic — stories. Right?

Why did you have to write those? You are so stupid, fantasizing on your best friend and making the whole world know! You should have kept your sexual dreams in your bed, rather than crystalizing them on white pages.

Your hands cover your burning cheeks before going to the bathroom and splashing some cold water on your face as a ridiculous attempt to wake up from this nightmare.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Two weeks have passed since the double-date. Jungkook and you have hanged out like nothing happened — actually for Jungkook nothing happened. However, even though you really wanted to hide from him out of embarrassment, you couldn't without presenting yourself as the culprit of these stories. Your best friend was his usual self and he didn't even talk about your Wattpad account, which slowly relieved you. Like you said, Jungkook doesn't like reading, he won't do it so you can live your life without thinking about it anymore. You did stop writing though and you felt sad when you've read comments of people missing you and waiting for the next chapter.

What you don't know is that Minji has insisted so much, arguing that the main male lead of your story was just like Jungkook, that your best friend took on himself to browse through your Wattpad account. And he read everything. At first, he was quite amused at the resemblance: more than the JK name, the fictional character has black hair and tattoos just like him. The sex scenes were intense but still a little too soft for Jungkook who likes it real rough — but it's not like you can know it. But then, Jungkook grew suspicious, some scenes being very familiar to him. Like the one of the two main characters going to the beach but can't to swim because they forgot their swimsuits. Or the one when they were cooking together and JK seasoned the meal the narrator took hours to cook with sugar instead of salt. Another example was an argument between the two characters over the film they should watch at the theatre. Jungkook clearly remembered a very similar scene with you that ended up just like the book: him buying his own ticket for Fast&Furious and you throwing your popcorn on him.

A — absolutely ridiculous and impossible — thought came to his mind: were you the author? That couldn't be. You were his best friend, and you've never seemed to be interested in him — despite his endeavours he might add. But then, how could the scenes in this book be so much like the ones you two'd shared? And then, a crazier thought lighted up in his brain: are all the sex scenes you have written one of your desires? Would you like him to fuck you, to finger you, to lick you? Thinking about your pretty face torn by pleasure made him hard in his pants. He went though the hot scenes for a second time, trying to acknowledge what you like. As insane as it might seem, if Jungkook has the chance to, he'll fuck you and he wants to be prepared. Well, that's if you are indeed the author of the book. Which is such a foolish idea that he can't allow himself to grow too excited because the odds are not in Jungkook's favors.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

You are heading to Jungkook's place after receiving a text from him. He asked you if you wanted to watch a movie and you accepted. However, when you enter his apartment — you also have a spare key of your best friend's door —, the usual bowl of popcorn is no where to be seen. Jungkook has a ravishing look with his grey sweatpants and black oversized t-shirt. It's just his common look but it's so good on him.

"Hi" You greet him with a hug "You don't have any popcorn?"

"No, but maybe I have some underbaked cookies that we could eat with ice cream" He replies

You just freeze. Those underbaked cookies with ice cream are something you've written in your story. Did Jungkook read it? It's a catastrophe. You have to act like it's nothing, like you don't know what he means but god, you're such a shitty actress and your best friend knows you better than anyone else.

"Why would I want underbaked cookies?" You ask but your tone is so unsure that it only betrays you

"I don't know" Jungkook starts "Maybe because I'll get to eat you out to be fully satisfied"

Oh god. He. Did. Read. Everything. You wish the ground opened underneath your feet to swallow you whole. You throat is too dry to reply anything and your burning cheeks are screaming 'I'm the author! I'm guilty your Honor!'. You want to run away but you can't, your body refuses to move and you just keep looking down. You are so ashamed that your eyes get watery. Jungkook must hate you to have sexualized him like you did. Worse, you published this sexualized version of your best friend on the Internet and thousand of people have read it.

"Why did you write those stories?" Jungkook asks you

His tone is not harsh but not sweet either. It's just a little softer than neutral and it hurts in your heart.

"I don't know" You whisper with a shaky voice

"Don't lie to me, Y/N" Jungkook cups your face with his hands to force you to look into his so beautiful doe eyes "Tell me, I'm just trying to understand"

You are destabilized not to see any anger or disgust on your best friend's face. You thought he could be furious but he is not. He really seems curious to know. But that would mean you'd have to confess your feelings and you're not ready to hurt.

"It's just things that came to my mind" You half-lie

"So it doesn't mean anything?"

Your mouth opens in surprise at your best friend's question. Or more precisely at his tone. It's like he is hoping for it to mean something. You're taken aback. It's really not the reaction you expected. You remove his hand from your face so you can try to think again. You're lost in all the overwhelming emotions you're experiencing.

"I-" You start but nothing follows

You don't know what to say. Especially when Jungkook is looking at you with such an intense yet loving eye. Like he wants you. All of you. Your mind, your heart and your body. And you'll be happy to give them to him actually.

"Do you love me, Y/N?"

Once again, your eyes widen. You shouldn't be this surprised, it is just a logical question to ask after your interaction. You want to tell him but you're scared. Jungkook is perfect. He is the most handsome man but it's nothing compared to his personality. He is sweet and caring. He is hard-working and never gives up. He is supportive and always willing to help his friends. He is so perfect. Too perfect for you. You have nothing to offer him, he could find someone better just by snapping his fingers. But your best friend stops all those negative and destroying thoughts when he speaks again.

"You don't have to tell me" Jungkook says with a deep voice you've never heard before "I won't either. But I will show you"

With those last, enigmatic words, he cups your face with his tattooed hand. A immediate feeling of warmth rises upon the area he is touching. His thumb caresses your cheek, so delicately that you could think Jungkook is afraid to break you, but it soon drifts away to land on your bottom lip. The thinner and pinkish skin is soft underneath the pad of his finger and he can't wait any longer: he needs to feel the softness with his own mouth.

He kisses you and god, what a perfect kiss. The best one ever. His pulp lips feel like silk. The pressure is the right one: deep enough to draw butterflies in your stomach but not too much to completely overpower you. Jungkook wants to give you the opportunity to stop the kiss if you want to. But you surely don't want to. Quite the opposite: you want more.

Your hands go up to hide in his black hair to keep him close. It's the sign Jungkook waited to deepen the kiss. His hands are now on your back, pressing you closer against his strong body. Everything is just right. You seem to know each other's body like your own. Jungkook said he was going to show you he loved you and he does. The kiss is passionate but so loving at the same time. You have the feeling to fall in love with him all over again.

Without breaking the kiss, he leads you to his bedroom, which is easy since you know well his apartment. Jungkook takes off your shirt and he looks at your breasts long enough for you to grow embarrassed. But then he whispers to himself 'so perfect' and you don't feel unsure anymore. The way Jungkook looks at you makes you feel like the most beautiful woman alive. To be fair, you are for him.

Jungkook cups your tits still covered by your bra and leans down to hide his face in the valley of your boobs. God, he loves them so much. You moan when he starts to kiss the available skin. But it's not enough, for any of you. Your hand sneaks behind your back to undo your bra and finally free your breasts. Jungkook doesn't waste time and grabs one boob before squeezing it in his large and warm palm. His mouth works on your other nipple, licking, sucking and even deliciously biting it.

He invites you to lean on his bed and you're happy to do it. Jungkook grabs the hem of your pants and slides them down with your panties. Your pussy is already glistening with arousal and it's driving him crazy. He can't even control himself when he step closer to eat you out. His tongue is fast and precise on your clit and you can't help the moans from escaping your lips. Your head is thrown back and your fists are clenched around the sheets. Your cunt is soaked by your horniness and Jungkook's saliva, creating a real mess between your legs.

"More" You groan

Jungkook smirks while he enters your tight pussy with two fingers. The stretch is so fucking good that you whimper. His pace doesn't show any mercy but you fucking love it. Maybe it's Jungkook's skills or maybe it's your strong feelings for him but your orgasm is close. Your legs start shaking and you rest them on your best friend's shoulders.

"Your pussy is so good" He says against your wet clit "You've dreamt about that, uh? You little minx"

Your head is spinning because of your horniness. You feel like drowning into pleasure and Jungkook's expert fingers hitting your g-sport repeatedly are pushing you over the edge. Your back arches and your toes curl while you're trying to control your orgasm. It's too good, you don't want Jungkook to stop just now. But then, he talks again:

"I've read how you wanted me to eat your pretty pussy. You're a little slut for me, isn't that right?"

His dirty mouth — both words and acts — makes you cum on his face and fingers. Jungkook's digits are squeezed tightly by your walls and he pushes your limits by pushing on your sweet spot harder. It cuts your breathe and you feel your orgasm lasting and lasting until you can't take the overstimulation anymore. Your legs try to close but they are stopped by Jungkook's head and your hands tug on his hair.

"I'll fuck you good"

Jungkook's promise lights up your body once again. You settle down from your high just in time to watch his strip show. His pecs and abs are so perfect. You wish you could lick them but your body is still in the fog of your orgasm so you just can lift your hand to caress him like you've dreamt of so many time. His skin is warm and soft but his muscles are hard right under. Jungkook closes his eyes to enjoy your touch. He's imagined it many times before you and your delicate fingers on him are delightful. His hard cock twitches in his pants when your hand reaches the hem of his sweatpants. The bulge is clearly visible and your mouth waters.

You push the pieces of fabric down to free is big cock. Oh god, it's bigger than you thought. Some pre-cum is leaking from his tip and you use it to jerk him off. Jungkook growls out of delight and your hand works fast on his length. The sight of your small hand around his cock is fucking hot but Jungkook wants to fuck you. You two will have a lot of time in the future to experience other things.

"I want to fuck you" Jungkook says but it's also a consent question

As much as he wants to, he won't if you tell him no.

"I want it too, Kook"

Your best friend walks to his nightstand after getting off of his pants and underwear. He grabs a condom that he quickly puts on and joins you on the bed. You're gorgeous, all naked, in his bed. Lust is written on your face and he still can't believe you're looking at him. He wants to worship you and he will, but right now, he will fuck you like there is no tomorrow.

You open your legs wider for Jungkook to take place between them. He grabs his hard cock and slides the tip up and down on your folds. Your back arches.

"Please, Kook, I want you" Your whipped voice is driving him crazy

He enters slowly, not wishing to hurt you. The way his dick is stretching you out is insane. Jungkook is big but it's fucking good. He fills you so well. When he sees you relaxing, he starts to move back and forth. Your soaked pussy helps him to enter you without any difficulty. His hands cup your face to kiss you. Your moans are swallowed by Jungkook's mouth and your hands grabs his wrists when he pounds you at a faster pace. Soon, your tits are bouncing with rhythm and your groans get louder.

The grab on your jaws tightens and Jungkook rests his forehead on yours. He fucks you passionately. You wrap your legs around his waist to deepen the poundings. The slight change of angle places his dick directly to your g-spot.

"Here!" You scream and clench around him

"Your pussy is so tight but you still want to be fucked rough" Jungkook smirks "You told everyone but me. I'm so disappointed, baby"

His dick strokes are harsher and deeper, kicking the air of your lungs every time. The sound your clapping skins create is loud and sinful. You're close again and Jungkook can feel it.

"You're sure you don't want to tell me that you love me?" He asks with heavy breathe "Because I'll fuck you better if you do"

It's enough for you. Your walls are squeezing him impossibly tight. Jungkook almost winces but the fucked expression on your face is so worth it.

"I love you, Kook!" You scream when you cum hard on his cock, your vison blurred by the tears of pleasure and love filing your eyes

The euphoric state provoked by your orgasm and your feelings make you loose your mind. You kiss him but a salty taste mixes in your kiss. When Jungkook wipes the corners of your eyes, you realize you're crying. You don't even know why.

"I love you too" Jungkook whispers

A few more hard poundings are provided and Jungkook cums in the condom. You're both panting and Jungkook is almost crushing you but you don't care. His face is hidden in the crook of your neck, kissing your skin tenderly. You hug him tightly when you finally realize that your best friend loves you too.

Your cry shakes your body and Jungkook lifts up his head and his heart squeezes when he sees you.

"Hey, don't cry, baby"

He kisses every single inch of your face: your lips, your cheeks, your nose, your forehead and even your eyes to make your tears disappear.

Jungkook pulls out of you and takes off his condom. He quickly comes back to hug you tight. You truly appreciate how gentle he is. He has always been but now, with the love in his eyes, it's even better. Your whole body feels full of love. You know it's the right moment to share all the things you've kept to yourself for years.

"My head and my heart are full of you" You say "I'm drowning in the ocean of the love I feel for you. I love so much that it hurts, Kook"

"Your words feel so good" Jungkook replies with watery eyes, gently patting your hair "I can't describe as good as you my feelings but one thing I can say is that I love you. I love you, Y/N, and I'll never be tired of telling you or showing you how much I do"

You cry like a baby, undoubtedly the result of your post-sex tiredness and the tsunami of emotions Jungkook's confession provokes. It's the first time tears provoked by your best friend are welcomed.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

"So, what's next?" Jungkook asks the next day during breakfast

Just as the last time you've spent the night at his place, he woke up with a morning wood. Except that, this time, you made love. It was different from yesterday but as good. Maybe even better because you weren't in the over-everything that your love confessions provoked. You took your time, you kissed and kissed again while caressing and feeling each other.

"Maybe I'll need some inspiration for the next date scenes" You tease him

Jungkook giggles while scrunching his cute nose. He knows you so well and yet, this part of you, your writer part, was completely unknown until a few days ago. He also knows that your book is just an excuse to take you on a date. Honestly, he doesn't have to make any excuse to ask you on a date. He wants to do it. He has been wanting for years and now, you're his girlfriend.

"You're sure you don't need inspiration for your sex scenes?" He asks playfully

You smile and scoot closer to wrap your arms around his neck.

"I could use some help" You whisper before kissing him

#bts smut #bts fanfic #bts jungkook #bts #jjk x reader #jjk #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts one shot #one shot #bts f2l

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littlemisssatanist · 3 months

Text

my acotar unpopular opinions

taking this time to come out as an acotar reader. yes i've read all the books and i've spent way too much time thinking about it. i enjoy the books in the sense that i enjoy hating on many of the characters and loving a few of the others.

be forewarned inner circle fans. you will not like this.

rhysand is not a 'morally grey' character. he's a rapist and a groomer. he sexually assaulted feyre utm, he groomed her (reminder that she was 19 in acotar), and he withheld important medical information from her. 'you'll always have a choice' my ass.

nesta telling feyre about her pregnancy was not a bad thing. why do people act like it is? 'oh she did it to hurt feyre' hurt her by doing what? revealing the lies that her beloved husband had woven? revealing the fact that she'd die giving birth? the fact that rhysand told literally everybody but feyre?

mor is not the champion for women everyone thinks she is. this i will give to sjm it is truly impressive to make a character like women and still be a pick me. i'm not even going to go into her whole weird ass relationship with her dad (i still don't understand why she wouldn't just kill him. 'oh rhys needed the army' rhys is supposed to be the most powerful high lord ever. either admit he's a fucking loser or give me an actual good reason for this) or the fact she's seemingly incapable of doing anything to help the women in the court of nightmares, but everytime she was mentioned, i had to let out a heavy sigh and rub my temples.

on a similar topic. i liked eris. like a lot. out of all the acotar characters sjm has written, eris is by far my favorite.

the inner circle needs to sit the fuck down. they are the most hypocritical bitches i've ever met. they like to think themselves high and mighty. reading them make fun of lucien's band of exiles while their name is literally 'court of dreamers' was the most infuriating thing ever. and then they have the gall to be insulted when called out. don't dish what you can't take.

out of all the inner circle, the only one i don't hate is azriel. this is simply because he is the only one who hasn't opened his big fat mouth and done something bad (except if you maybe count his whole thing with elain). cassian is on my hit list. it's on sight with cassian.

nessian is sjm's worst ship and i will stand by that. lucien/nesta could have been so much. 'nesta would have ripped lucien apart' and cassian was your first choice? not even azriel was considered? like be so for real right now. sjm didn't see the potential of lucien/nesta and i will forever mourn that.

sjm is a terrible writer. i'm not saying this to be mean but she seriously just sucks at it. that being said i admire her ability to still make millions of dollars off her shitty writing. as a woman, i am rooting for her. as a reader, every day i wake up a shoot a prayer to the heavens begging the gods to not let sjm write any more books from the inner circle's pov.

lucien/elain is better than azriel/elain. argue with the wall.

eris/azriel is better than azriel/elain. you can kiss my ass.

NESTA/ERIS IS BETTER THAN RHYSAND/FEYRE. i know this because i have been enlightened.

feyre is a victim to rhysand. that being said, she is also a major bitch. both can be true because these things are not mutually exclusive. i wish she could make friends outside of the ic like nesta did, but i know that's unlikely.

feyre's pregnancy storyline was completely useless and went against her whole character.

acomaf retconned everything about tamlin and feyre's relationship in order to make more money. idc.

tamlin gets a ridiculous amount of hate. rhysand is hypocritical. so tamlin locking feyre in a house because she wants to ride out with him into potential danger is terrible and abusive, but rhysand locking nesta in the house of wind for... *checks notes*... having sex and spending money on alcohol is helping her? what?

#anti rhysand #anti sjm #anti inner circle #anti acotar #rhysand critical #inner circle critical #acotar #acotar critical #pro nesta #anti nessian #pro eris vanserra #anti mor #this might be a controversial one

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two-white-butterflies · 21 days

Text

the sun sets in the east | daemon targaryen

Description: Daemon Targaryen didn't die during the war - though there were many nights that he wished he did. A prequel and sequel of the sun rises in the west, in which Daemon tries to navigate his relationship with his only son and the new life he is bestowed.

Pairing: daemon targaryen/dayne!reader (you haunt the narrative)

Rating: General Audience (grief processing, daemon being a grey character.)

Author's Note: Daenerys-Drogo inspired.

"When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east. When mountains blow in the wind like leaves. Then you shall return to me."

There was no milk of poppy that could subside the ache in his heart. He marched to the Stepstones with nothing to lose, he came home losing everything. "I offer my condolences, brother." Viserys places a hand on Daemon's shoulder.

Daemon watches his son from afar.

Maekar looked exactly like him, the same aquiline nose, the same purple eyes. He almost wishes that there were other children, perhaps a daughter with the same eyes as yours. He stares off to the vast horizon, the gardens in his periphery.

"When Aemma died, I was a shell of myself. Unable to rule or eat." Viserys conversed. There were no scrolls that explained how to cope the death of a wife that one loved very much.

"- and you found comfort with the Lady Alicent." Daemon interrupted, bitterness in his tone. "If you are suggesting that I find the same comforts in another one's arms. I decline." he gave his brother a tight-lipped smile.

He's spent his entire life looking for Viserys' love. He's long understood that he'll never find it, and that he'll never be his brother's first choice. Daemon waves at his son. Maekar runs towards him.

"We'll be going, your grace." he lifted his son off the ground. Disappearing from the Red-Keep. Gods know when he'll return.

He met another woman after you. After the harsh pushing of his brother to take another wife, he decided to settle with Lady Laena. She was the same as you - the same fire flowed through her veins. She wanted to be a warrior and was skilled with a dagger. She knew her place. She knew how to obey, and behind those purple eyes of hers - he finds a glimpse of you.

Maekar, who was five, placed a tender hand on Lady Laena's belly. "It will a brother." he surmised with childish curiosity. Daemon watched coldly as his second wife took kindly to his son. He wanted to rip Maekar away from Lady Laena - wanted to tell him that the woman wasn't his mother - wanted to tell him to never forget you.

Alas, he couldn't.

He couldn't bring himself to even mention your name.

"How can you be so sure, my prince?" Daemon sat beside them on the bed, placing a kiss on Maekar's forehead. "I-I wish it is." the boy played with the edges of the blanket. "- then I'll have someone to play with - like muña promised." he stuttered.

Daemon's heart sinked to his chest.

Laena smiled.

"You'll have a lot of siblings, I promise." now it was Laena's turn to place a kiss on Maekar's forehead. Daemon clenched his fists.

It was his fault. He did not speak of you - how else was Maekar supposed to know? He'll have to make things right.

"Where are we going, kepa?" Maekar inquired as his father led him to the heart of the Red Keep. "Laena is not your muña. You know that, right?" the man opened the conversation. His son replies with a hum.

Maekar wobbles in an attempt to catch up with his father. His eyes twinkling with adoration and love. "Uhuh my real muña died in the war." the son replied, and they both halted in front of a chamber. It was Daemon's old chamber.

A layer of dust gathered on the doorknob. He could not find himself to visit. "But you cannot remember muña. You were a babe when she died." he twisted the doorknob - opening the door wide. Maekar's eyes travelled along the walls, soaking in the interior of the room.

He remembers this room!

The bed was unmade - the hairbrush still had a strand of your hair. Is a piece of hair still a part of your head even when it has fallen on the floor? Are ghosts still a part of your family even when they're dead?

He reaches for his father's hand.

"Please tell me!" he beamed, and Daemon sat on the bed. Dust jumping around at the sudden shift of weight. Maekar coughs.

The older man points at the portrait on the wall. "I met your mother when I was much younger. She was seven and ten, a Dornishwoman. She made it very clear that she didn't want to lose her liberties by being married to me." he chuckled, the pain in his chest lifted by memories of you. "Liberties?" Maekar tilted his head.

"Freedom. She didn't want to lose herself. She wanted to remain a warrior, to train in the fields regardless of the court's opinion. The court had a lot to say, my son, but she did not care. She never cared about anything beyond us three." the smile never left his face.

"Remember what I told you about being a prince." he stared deep into Maekar's eyes and the little boy nodded. "When forced to choose between the kingdom and your family - always choose the kingdom, because your duty is to the people before yourself." the little boy recited, stuttering and messing up the end sentence.

"Your mother was as valiant as any prince. She wanted to choose you, my son - but we weren't the only ones suffering. Sons were marching off to war, and they never returned. She couldn't help but think about you - about our safety. The War in the Stepstones threatened the very peace of our Kingdom, and she protected that." the smile left his mouth, back to the bitter reality.

"Promise me that you'll always love your mother. Do not find fault in what she could not do." Daemon wrapped Maekar in his arms, placing him in a tender embrace.

"I always love her, kepa." he promised.

Maekar was ten and six when Daemon married Princess Rhaenyra. By then, Laena was long dead - cold to the touch as you.

Princess Rhaenyra was different, mayhaps the only woman after you that Daemon truly loved. She was filled with fire and he worshipped her - they were built in the same fire. He was devoted to her, the same way that he felt devoted to Viserys.

It was a different type of love - devotion, but not love itself.

"Hold him, husband." Rhaenyra smiled, sweat gathering at her forehead. Daemon smiled in return, reaching for Aegon.

His second son, the namesake of his ruined brother. "- he looks like you." she added, licking her lips.

"I was scared, I thought that I'll lose you both." he confessed. Rhaenyra reached for his face. "You'll never lose me." she promised, just before their lips could be bridged together - a handmaiden opens the door.

"My prince, my princess. Lady Melara has given birth to a son." the handmaiden announced. Rhaenyra's face sunk to the floor.

Maekar has stolen her thunder, again.

Daemon was surprised to see Baela and Rhaena patiently waiting outside Lady Melara's door. "Baela, Rhaena, don't you have lessons." he greeted the both of them with a hug. "I don't suppose that you'll have us attending boring lessons when our nephew has recently welcomed the world." Baela rolled her eyes.

"Are they letting visitors in?" he inquired and the sisters shrugged in unison. "Maekar promised to bring the babe out for all to see." Rhaena informed and Daemon shook his head.

On cue, Maekar opens the door with a screaming bundle of warmth in his arms. "The babe must stay inside the chambers." Daemon placed a foot inside of the door, blocking his son from exiting. "- there are diseases outside, and the babe must keep his strength." he asserted, Maekar returns to the chambers with a defeated sigh.

He looks at his younger sisters.

"You are free to enter the room, loves." Maekar smiled, all three of his visitors clamored to be the first to enter.

Maekar hands the babe to his father, the same adoration and love in his eyes as all those years ago. "I decided to name him Rhaegar. After princess Rhaenyra." his son announced. "My brother was born today too, wasn't he." he asked and Daemon nods.

Finally, a child that looked like you.

Rhaegar had the usual blonde hair and purple eyes, but the shape of his eyes, his nose, his face - it was you.

"I settled them both down, and left after they had fallen asleep." Daemon mumbled unconsciously. "Congratulations, my son."

Rhaenyra leaned on the doorframe, watching as her husband played with the children. It seems like the gods enjoyed playing cruel games. Rhaegar was born the same day as Aegon. Maekar's Viserys was born on the same day as her Viserys.

"We'll need to find a safer place for them. Once the Hightowers have landed their first blow, Dragonstone won't be safe." Daemon informed, standing up and walking towards her.

"You'll protect us, right?" she asked, and he nods.

He wraps his arms around her. He always said that Rhaenyra needed to marry a great man in order to keep the realm safe. He played that role very well, and she believed him. She melts in his embrace, feeling safe caged in between his arms.

"Kingslanding will be ours." he promised.

Before Daemon could land his first attack on the Hightowers, news of Maekar's sickness reached his ears. "It is the same fever that took your aunt, Daenerys." the Maester informed - and suddenly the room became very small, and his chest tightening with every second.

"He needs vigilant observation, there are cures for this sickness, but all of them are in Kingslanding. They were gathered by King Jaehaerys - and have remained in the castle since." the Maester added, for a second Daemon considered surrendering to the Greens.

If it was the only thing that could guarantee Maekar's safety.

"- but he can fight the sickness on his own." Daemon placed a finger to his lips, in deep thought. "If his dragon was here, my prince. But Gaelithox is kept in the Dragonpit - also in Kingslanding." the Maester's eyebrow merged into each other.

Whatever Maekar's fate now remained in his own hands.

"You are telling me that there is nothing that we can do?" Daemon attempted to keep his anger at bay. "I'm sorry, my prince." the man bowed. "- we could give him milk of poppy to ease the pain." the Maester suggested.

Milk of poppy. It brought him dark memories.

"Kepa, in the afterlife - do you think that I'd recognize her?" Maekar opened his mouth, feeling the cold compress on his forehead. It's been decades since he last saw his mother. He couldn't remember her anymore, not the sound of her voice, her face or her scent. She was a mere memory, a portrait of the woman that loved them.

"What do you mean?" Daemon asked, refusing to entertain the idea of his son's death. "When I die and I see her. Will I recognize her?" Maekar repeated his question.

Daemon answers with his silence.

Opposite to the news that reached Kingslanding. His first wife did not die immediately after the war. She had a slow death - fighting an infection caused by a wound. He sees flashes of the past, he remembers taking care of you - easing your fever.

Perhaps, placing the same cold compress on your forehead.

He promises that this time will be different. He wouldn't lose Maekar in the same way that he lost you. "Kepa, I asked you a question." his son will not let the topic rest. "It's alright if you do not wish to answer." Maekar adds, his voice suddenly deeper than all the years before. Daemon is bitterly reminded that his son is no longer a child.

"You'll recognize her. I'm sure of it - when you see her. Wrap her in a warm embrace and tell her that you love her." Daemon breaths.

How long has it been since he last saw you? A lady who was ten and nine. Now he was thrice your age - already having lived multiple lives, and you were still there - the ten and nine year old lady who had a life in front of her. Taken by the sea.

"I've not been a good father or a good husband." Daemon admitted.

"- I've not been good to your Mama Laena or Rhaenyra. I often wonder if they hate me, because I hold onto the dead." he added, remembering the fight he had a few hours ago with Rhaenyra. 'How is it that you love her more? She is a dead girl, I am here. I am alive.'

"They do not blame you, I think. It is your right to mourn." Maekar comforted, despite the piercing headache that threatened to split his skull open. Maekar closes his eyes.

"Mother used to sing me a song. I remember." he stated, and Daemon knew exactly what he was hinting at.

The House of the Dragon crumbled the same day that Maekar Targaryen took his last breath. Prince Daemon took to other places, choosing to go on a conquest with the dragonseed, Nettles. He learnt many things with the child. Questioned even his own beliefs.

If people of no Targaryen bearings could claim a dragon. Was he wrong his entire life? Were Targaryens not closer to the gods? Taken by grief and jealousy, Queen Rhaenyra ordered the head of Nettles and thus began Daemon's first defiance.

Daemon still had love for Rhaenyra.

Even in the middle of a cold war, he still fought for her claim. He defeated Prince Aemond in the Battle Above God's Eye, though the battle ended in both of their deaths. Princess Rhaenyra and her last son were burned by Aegon II.

All that remained were Rhaegar and Viserys. Children of the dance. And so, with the remaining forces of House Velaryon and House Tyrell. Prince Rhaegar was proclaimed King of the Iron Throne.

No dragon ever hatched from the mighty house of the Targaryen ever again.

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