#❀ ‘ﾟ / little by little soaked into my veins ; visage.

[dollwrites]

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!reader but she’s not really there, masturbation, reigen keeps videos, oral sex ( m!receiving ), probably poorly written reigen, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ big big special thankies to @arabaka for not only introducing me to reigen but also giving me advice about his characterization and helping me get to know him better 🥺. please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

Reigen is so sloppy when he jacks off. that’s why he typically prefers to lie in bed, moaning your name, that way he can ruin his own sheets, or roll over on to his stomach to hump against the mattress. his sweat and cum mingle on the bedding, cheeks red and glistening, eyes closed as he digs his fingers into his pillow, rutting, needy. he imagines you under him, legs spread and eyes glassy like they get when he pounds you hard. he likes to make you go dumb on his cock, and remember how you drooled and begged him, later when he’s alone.

but every now and then, the urge for you rears its head while he’s at the office.

and that’s what the videos are for.

so that he might find himself sprawled in his chair, legs spread wide and cock jabbing upwards, pink-tipped and throbbing, coated in the spit in his palm as he strokes himself silly with one hand, and grips his phone tightly in the other. the audio is cranked, and the way your visage slurps as you worship his tip on the video before him is forcing his breathing to catch in his throat. you were always so damn eager to suck him off, and he was way more than willing to let you.

“So cute… how are you s-so cute when you—” he grunts to himself, and when your tongue glides against his slit on the screen, Reigen mimics, pressing his thumb against the sensitive hole and rubbing back and forth, just the way you would. he groans in the back of his throat, and his eyes threaten to close, but he wants to watch so bad, they simply flutter instead, lids heavy. after a moment of teasing himself, he watches your mouth open wide, and he elicits a soft, happy whimper when the squishy head slips in. he can remember exactly how the inside of your mouth feels, and he attempts to imitate the sensation by enveloping his cock tip with his palm, tightening his grip around the frenulum to simulate the tight, stretch of your plushy lips. your eyes, though zeroed in on the camera as he films you, go hazy when his dick fills your mouth, and Reigen’s hips push forward, fucking his own hand and the air, simultaneously, breathing ragged. he loves that look on your face— when your senses are overwhelmed, and all you can see, smell, and taste is his sex; it’s as if the moment his cock slips in, your brain turns off.

when your head starts to bob, up and down, Reigen has to shift, changing the pace and angle of his stroking, smearing spit and the beading precum over his cock as he pumps furiously to keep up with the rhythm you’d set a few nights prior. the cocktail dribbles along the edges of his fly, soaking a ring of wetness against his gray pants, but he doesn’t care, he’s too caught up in it. jaw hanging slack, cheeks cherry red, his breathing comes and goes in furious, strangled puffs in between gargling, desperate moaning.

“Pretty, little cocksucker… my pretty girl, so f—fucking talented with that, hng, soft mouth a’yours…” perspiration runs in racing stripes down his temple, over his cheeks, and streams on his throat as a prominent vein bulges there, a telltale sign that he was inching closer to release. Reigen can hear his own voice over the recording, begging you to suck it, pleading for you to suck his cock like it’s the only thing in the world that matters to you, and he can tell by the dizzy look on your face, that it is.

“P-please, oh— shit, ‘s good… you make me feel so, so good!” Reigen hunches forward, closer to the screen as his strokes become erratic, squeezing his tip and then bucking his hips to slide through his slick palm, fucking it like it was your throat. seeing the digital clone of his dick disappear, only to watch your cheeks bulge and your eyes roll back in your head, he’s teetering on the edge of a big orgasm, a needy one, but when you start to cluck with each thrust, Reigen knows that must’ve been about the time he was battering your gag reflex, and he lost it.

furiously pistoning his fist up and down his own length, he forgets where he’s at. he forgets himself, and becomes a grunting, panting, whimpering mess of taut muscles and rutting. “That’s it, y-yes, yes, yes!”

falling back against his office chair, his knees spread, the muscles in his arm burns, but he can’t stop, he can’t ease up off this brutal rhythm until the first spurts of his release erupt from his swollen, twitching cock. a flustered gasp, one in the form of your name, escapes his lips, and so does a small trickle of drool, as the first streamers land against his phone screen, dripping on and obscuring your euphoric expression. Reigen gargles a contented moan, his fist running up to wring at his tip, extracting more of his load in a milking fashion, until it splatters on his abdomen, staining his suit and dampening the white shirt underneath. what he had left to siphon out of his tender, softening cock dribbled out from his slit and oozed down along his shaft while he panted like a wild animal, globbing in the patch of golden hair at his base.

the video ends, and he’s too worn out to do much but allow his phone to clatter against his desk, twitching and bathing in afterglow. his office smells of his sweat and sex, and he closes his eyes, taking a ragged, satiated breath.

he still can’t believe the power you hold over him, how you make him a depraved, base fool. just the thought of you is enough to have his cock twitching again, and he groans, running the pad of his thumb over the throbbing vein nearest the base. “Already?” he asked aloud, incredulous at just how willing his body was to spring back and demand your attention. he would have to rub at least one more out before he could focus long enough to get through the rest of his work day.

but he would still be desperate enough that you would get the fuck of your life when he got home.

[whimsyvixen]

Don't Be Shy

Record of Ragnarok Drabble

Rating: 18+

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Synopsis: In exchange for your life, you need to prove yourself useful to the God of Lies.

WARNINGS/TAGS: Dark NSFW, extremely dubious consent, rough oral sex (m. receiving), non-consensual oral sex, dacryphilia, large cock, humiliation, gagging, asphyxiation, Loki with his God complex.

Authors note: I don't regret anything. If I can't find NSFW art for this fandom, I'm taking matters into my own hands.

Whining pathetically, you couldn't escape the brutish affections of the God before you.

Loki held your head still to prevent you from jerking away from the heavy weight of his cock violating your throat. Traces of precum and your own spit escaped the corners of your mouth, soaking your chin and neck as you struggled to take him. You nearly retched when he mashed his hips against your face, your lips kissing the base of his cock as he held you there with a pleased sigh. More tears slid down your face to smudge your makeup further, no doubt making you look like a disheveled whore.

When breathing was proving to be a challenge, you slapped and shoved desperately against him. Even as you scratched at his naked thighs, nails digging half crescent marks into his firm muscles, Loki refused to give you any reprieve from his pleasure. The slight stings of pain only made him hiss, his purple eyes glaring down at you in disapproval.

Just when you felt you were going to pass out, Loki released you with a huff, letting you fall back on the floor with a painful thud. The pain of landing on your elbows was nothing compared to the soreness of your throat. The continuous coughs and deep intakes of air hurt your injured airways, soft sobs escaping you before you could control yourself.

"What's the matter?" He grunted out the question, a flush adorning his face from the earlier sensation of your hot mouth around him. "I thought you wanted to prove that your existence was worth something? If this is the best you can do, then there is no point in keeping you around."

He stood up from the couch, making no move to tuck himself back into his pants as he stared at you with a contemplating expression. A smile of amusement crossed his face when you refused to stare at his drenched member. It was a vulgar sight– almost as thick as your wrist, his cock twitched with interest, prominent veins running along the shaft, the scent of his musk strong, lipstick smears adorning it along with your spit, making it shine in the low lit room. You chose to lie pathetically on the floor, unsure of what to expect from him as he neared your frozen form.

The embarrassment adorning your face was very cute… for a human, anyways. Although your performance was lacking, he was sure that with patience, he could teach your little mortal self a thing or two on how to better service a god.

Loki bent down to tug on your hair, making you cry out as he forced you eye level to his crotch again. He held his erection up with the other hand, pumping the length of it lazily before slapping the organ against your cheek in an admonishing way.

"I'll give you a second chance to prove yourself. Learn that this is your proper place, human. On your knees in reverence for your gods." Loki paid no mind to your distressed visage, mind too focused on the sight of your lips close to his leaking head. "Let's start over, shall we?"

"Relax your throat," he instructed, giving you no room to argue and accept your fate.

NSFW Art found here ---> (⁠ㆁ⁠ω⁠ㆁ⁠)

[chim-aera]

sometimes I feel heavy.

sometimes the weight sets in like a second skeleton, thick and dense in my bones like water soaked in my very fibers, filling my marrow like the porous fabric of a sponge.

am I always destined to drown alive?

it hurts. it hurts.

but that's not enough to set down my sword and stop running, sometimes I want to run farther. watch the blood trickle down my forehead, wearing a crown of thorns like some modern martyr, here I go being dramatic and dark, but will it always be so heavy?

I'm tired. aching, like centuries of sitting cooped in rafters and churches and archives and spires. nestled like some crooked arching owl has twisted me into some sort of bent and unnatural shape like raw metal.

I

I want to be ok. I want to run. take the snare from my legs set me free, I will run like a deer with hounds snapping their jaws at my ankles I will run like Daphne did from a grasping god. I will run like Atalanta would have if she had never fallen for the trick of fruit the color of sunrise.

I would run.

until either I fell to nothingness, maybe among devils and soot. or till I somehow find my divinity.

aren't they the same? perhaps if I fall, I will have company.

what do I do to tell what I feel like?

hello, how are you?

my bones are wrong, don't you know?

I cannot be what you want me to be, when I feel my body, dying, failing, sputtering out like some ending star burning to it's dramatic demise.

I'm so tired, gods above. I want to crawl into the earth, let the soil cool my burning bones. let the mushrooms and maggots have me, they'll be kinder then my sicknesses.

take this flawed, fading visage, make me something soft, Demeter.

a flower, not a daffodil, but a blossom to rest on your daughter's forehead when she visits, tucked behind her ear, so she takes me when the air chills and hands me to her husband. who with a gentle laugh says "little flower it is your time. you've ached for long enough. you won't suffer any longer."

make me a tree, a shade, a song.

I will wait as a sparrow, eating seeds from the hand of the Maiden, let me be alright. let me whole.

I have no need for grandeur.

it hurts.

Mother.

it hurts.

but here I go whining again.

perhaps I don't want to bury myself alive, although the coldness and soft embrace of Gaia's womb is tempting to lie back down and watch the sun melt into ochre and ebony.

but perhaps, I wish to fall into the arms of a lover, collapse in a twisted mess of limbs and gritted teeth for them to press a soft kiss to my furrowed brow, tell me it's alright, tell me I'm not just a damaged damned vessel..

but I'm being wishful, aren't I?

how I want to be soft, undo myself, unravel in all my tears and treachery, to show some bandaged child biting back the agony until their tongue bleeds.

the blood drop forms peonies. I wonder what that means.

I want to be cared for. I want to care. but my body is a prison like a church is, when I wish to be a forest.

how do I pour the fire from my veins, to snap my spine back in place, to reset my jaw? I'm tired of being fragile, please, I know there is no cure.

shall I keep on walking, run till I grow wings or fall to a pathetic heap of tangled limbs?

or should I be kind, hold myself, like I want to be held. embrace the softness I hate so much, feel the flesh between my fingertips without wanting to claw it off.

breathe.

perhaps I won't do either, but for now. yes. I'm fine. but I do feel heavy.

[kougetsuin]

[lale-txt]

❌ (n.sfw) sexual tension while tending his wounds w/ Eustass Kid

a/n: requested by @dxvilmanlev <3 aaahhh writing this sent me down bad into Kid hell, can't deny that. he's an angry little man but i'm very fond of him. want to put him in my pocket so he can yell at strangers who give me weird looks.

contains: gn!reader, n.sfw under the cut (not full on smut but very suggestive), mention of blood, dirty talk, heavy petting

word count: 933

“That’s nothing. You should have seen the enemies though.”

Kid tries hard not to flinch when you gently dab his bruised cheek with an alcohol-soaked cotton pad. You can tell that he was still high from the adrenaline rushing through his veins by the way he was fidgeting around in his chair, gesturing heavily with both hands. You duck from the metal arm swinging around and grab your utensils on the desk, can’t risk another shattered bottle of disinfectant.

While the rest of the crew was being treated in the infirmary like normal people, Kid had to burst into your shared cabin and tell you all about the fight, bleeding from several wounds but with a triumphant smile on his painted lips which reminded you once again why you had fallen for him in the first place. It was his pride and his joy, his strength and the roughness of his edges that softened whenever he was with you, when he let down his guard. He may bite but it was with love. And granted, it turned you on a bit.

You gently grab him by his chin to turn his face how you needed it, checking carefully if you missed a spot. His stern gaze lingered on you but he didn’t protest, a sly smile curling on his lips when your thumb brushes them, tracing the smeared lipstick.

“Like what you see, babe?” – “My throne, all beaten up? Barely.”

Kid growls and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you into his lap with ease. You’re mine. He leans back in his chair a little, giving you room to straddle him with your hands on his broad chest which he never bothered to cover, fortunately. You let your fingertips run over his skin, carefully inspecting his bruises. They were not that deep, but enough to draw out a sharp breath off Kid when you dab them carefully with a cotton pad. You both didn’t shy away from being rough, but the claw marks you usually left on his skin weren’t that bad.

Your fingertips brush his lower abs and you grin when he pulls you closer, bucking his hips a little. If he weren’t holding you in such a tight grip your hips would be drawing small circles in his lap already, grinding up and down on his thigh. He must still feel the throbbing arousal between your legs though, because he buries one hand in your hair and gently pulls you closer to his face by it, smirking when you let out a small gasp that is muffled by his lips meeting yours. Kid’s kisses were hungry and fiery, always leaving you begging for more until you moaned in his open mouth.

The cold metal of his mechanic arm runs down from your waist to your ass where your skin still remembers the sharpness of the pain his hand once left there. It makes you tremble in excitement and doesn’t go unnoticed.

“You’re trying to seduce a bruised man?”, he teases you, his voice cocky. You bite your lip and shake your head. Of course you weren’t, but you also had to admit that seeing him that rough and holding still under your touch gave you quite some feelings…

His hand glides from your ass to between your legs from behind, forcing them further apart. You hiss when the metal touches you through the thin fabric of your pants and your hips start moving on their own, finally free from his tight grip.

“At least that part of you is honest.”

You shut him up with another kiss, deep and greedy, your tongue slipping between his lips followed by two fingers as you draw out another groan from him. He was getting hard, you could feel him against your leg as you grinded on his thigh and metal hand. His bloody visage only turned you on more, the thought of knowing what beast was possessing this body and how hungry it was for you. How he could utterly destroy you if he wanted to, like fucking with fire.

You want him to devour you.

Just when Kid was about to unbuckle his belt to pull down his pants, your arms wrapped around his neck, hands buried in this red hair with your chest heaving, a knock on the door interrupts you. Kid barks a few curse words and tells the person to fuck off, that you were busy right now while you lick down his sweaty neck, when Killer’s voice from the other side of the door calls out to you.

“I made fresh pasta. Thought you could need some fuel.”

Kid and you exchange a glimpse, just when his stomach rumbles. It was hard to say No to Killer’s pasta, but there was also another hard situation to deal with here…

“Actually, I could use some fuel, you know. To fuck you longer and harder later?” – “I’m so glad you’re saying that because I’m starving.”

And just like that he grabs you and throws you over his shoulder, stomping outside determined, giving Killer the finger when he dares to point out the hard-on in Kid’s pants, guiding him the way to the kitchen. You just shrug apologetically, dangling over his back like that, and can’t help but smile about the whole situation.

Sure, you like to fuck, but you also love to be well-fed, leaning onto your lover as he spoons you a portion the size of your head in your bowl, deeply caring about you. You need all the energy you can get to withstand his cock later tonight…

[yinses]

UnQuelled Qingxin; E (5k)

Xiao x reader (tried to keep it relatively gn)

A/N: Who would have thought that it would be Xiao to bring an end to my drought. I literally wrote this all in one sitting and didn't regret a single thing because guess what MY BOY CAME HOME. That quest broke me inside. Thanks, MHY. My boy deserves a break.

​It was always a surprise when the two of you were left alone, momentarily undesired in a world still teetering on the seams of chaos. That wasn't to say that neither of you were unneeded. Though it was odd— it was hardly midday and not a call had been made for either of your names. You had some inkling, however, while not mentioned in title the darkest depths still in need of cleansing still called for Xiao. It was noticeable in the subtle way his gaze traveled over the lands. While encompassing the vast stretch of Liyue, the gesture wasn’t aimless. 

There had been creative freedom and quite a few liberties taken to garner this facade of peace. Ultimately, you knew that if peril rain fell upon the meadows that lay below he’d be but a wisp of wind in your arms in a moment. It had only taken a small favor from friends to monitor the less precarious threats. The occasional snort above your head let you know that the barter didn’t remain as secretive as you’d planned. 

Still the conqueror of demons humored you, lounging as pliable as he could fair under the visage of a mere mortal enjoying a rather rare day off. It was possibly the most unsurprising thing to learn that he’d never heard of ‘vacation days’ having over two millennia of taking on the responsibilities of a yaksha. 

Graceful, sacred and while a little out of reach, obtainable for those willing to climb for it. 

There wasn't much to complain about in your love life.

There wasn't much to complain about in your love life.

Curled up comfortably on the sofa looking down over the Dihua Marshes, there weren't many grievances you could come up with against Xiao. Despite there being a few tough layers to melt through, ultimately he was sweet at the core and loyalty flowed through his veins. As much could be said of his attachment to his fallen family, and its solemn decree to save the remainder of his home from the same fate.

You weren't well versed in the extremes of losing loved ones. Especially to the extent to what Xiao had suffered. Similar to most of society you simply raised new generation in respect to their troubles for your own survival. To show gratitude by thriving was said to be the upmost respect. 

And yet here you were, snuggled up against one of the legends that made your hearth and home possible.

From what Xiao shared with you, those who he could consider dear to him barely took up the fingers of a single hand. Surely the fate of Liyue was dear to his heart, but that had always been an obligation … a promise he upheld in the space of his brethren. But the closeness thats he’d savored in the past and the bonds that threaded together those memories; he never expected to feel that warmth again. 

At first, it made you sad to think about. Suffering through brief conclusions that you would never be enough. Before realizing that if you were meant to be part of his past, you would have been. Instead, you’d been born as part of his future, a cut away from centuries upon centuries of agony. Though he never said it, you knew he was grateful that you never knew what it took to allow you the privilege to walk through the Bishui Plains, if you wished, without the fear of being smited by vengeful gods. Though he felt that his work was never done, there was no denying that the dent of his perseverance would pave more futures to come. 

At the present, you just wanted him to slow down and enjoy a few of the years he gave to others. Because even yaksha deserved a bit of leave from work. Damn near invented the term at this point. 

And now, here you were, left alone to soak in the plentiful rays of light that overtook the open sky.  

The two of you had spent the better of your first hour lounging lazily under the surface of a late morning, awake but not entirely willing to accept it. More so on your part. Despite his promise the night before, Xiao had shone a hint of resistance when your arms had come up to drag him back to bed. It didn’t surprise you that he’d intended to sneak out first thing the morning while you slept, if only to scour the marshes while you dozed. But you were ready for him, as insistent as you had been when sealing his acceptance. 

Never a promise. 

You’d be cruel to tie him to your side with such restraint. 

Xiao had you comfortably placed between his thighs, with one arm supporting his head and the other hung over your shoulder to hold the book you’d mutually decided to tide through until lunch. While you had elected not out every detail of the day, you had been grateful for the seamless way the two of you managed to fill time without strain. Small moments like these, once stolen away, fell easily into place. 

At the foundation, Xiao had become your friend before your lover and remained your closest confidant. It felt natural to favor the knowledge of his favoritism over the more physical closeness of other couples your age. It felt more meaningful in the long run. 

And yet.

Though you rarely mentioned it, you were becoming more consciously aware whenever Xiao was near. It was natural for you, as a young viable individual as yourself to be intrigued by your significant other's body. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for the other.

Xiao never mentioned the word ‘celibacy’ though the legends surrounding his name rarely left room for anything besides conquering demons. Though never spoken, everything he experienced with you was something new and coveted. He managed to make every memory something to be replayed over and over and over again.

It was sweet.

It was classic.

And it made you so understandably a little frustrated sometimes.

Blame the era gap or the influences of your peers, but there were times that you wished there was more. At times the thought felt selfish on your tongue. With Xiao there was little that you could utter and not get in return. The fact that you were currently laying against the flow of his body was testament to that. 

It wasn’t to say that they two of you hadn’t shared a bed before. Albeit sparse, you did know what it was like to tangle with an adeptus. Though the scarcity made it a difficult topic to brag about, not that you would do so.

That and you couldn’t necessarily blame him when you rarely asked. Xiao had more important duties than tending to you. He was the one of the saviors of the lands you called home after all. The sacrifice of settling for a few kisses here and there from your hero was enough. Brief brushes of lips when arriving and departing. And occasionally the more passionate exchange when time and the stars aligned. 

You were grateful for each and every moment you got to spend with him. But it was also incredibly human for you to still ask for more. 

Just above your head, Xiao inhaled sharply and the muscles of his abdomen tightened with the movement. You’d long forgotten what exactly had transpired in the last few pages, Xiao had adapted to your reading speed by now and simply assumed you’d finished when he turned to the next page. Hidden from your view, the pinch of his brow expressed his own investment in the little series that had been recommended by your friend. Though his light hum gave away his sentiment and bled into your imagination. You’d kissed that spot enough to know how well easily it could give away to the soft pressure of your lips. Occasionally, he’d surprise you by lifting his head to return the gesture. Soft, gentle and albeit a little timid, there was nothing you loved more than his kisses.

But oh how that would feel if he decided to travel with those lips. Sharp nibbles along the bridge of your collar bone, between the valley of your chest and more preferably towards the apex of your thighs. You had a few past scenarios to go by- plenty of novels you’d read in privacy. There was no certainty in knowing what kind of lover Xiao would be, but your imagination provided you the image of a gentle, thoughtful lover.

There had been many nights in the seclusion in your own room where you’d found pleasure in the dreams of him making you his newest conquest. The feel of his calloused hands stretching your leg over his shoulder as his teeth nibbled on the juncture of your thigh. 

You knew he had the desire. It was more than likely just the weight of everything else dragging his resolve. You thought it might have been helpful, however, sort of like a stress reliever. But Xiao was determined to forgo the pleasures of life to remain vigilant to his contract.

The last time you managed to catch him once, purely by accident when the two of you cozied up during the latest display of fireworks. Xiao had been the one to encourage contact, noticing every detail of you, including the slight shiver you gave under the blanket of night. He tried to warn you against following him to his designated viewing spot, urging that you would enjoy the display more with friends. But that night, you wouldn’t have enjoyed being with anyone else. So as the sky exploded with bright arrangements, Xiao had brought you into the circle of his arms and the warmth of his lap.

It hadn’t been intentional for you to shift your hips as you had. Truthfully, you’d been too engrossed in the newest inventions, pointing out each creative explosion as if you were seeing for him too. Xiao could be fairly quiet at times, more of an observer than a conversationalist. And in that moment, your mouth had been running so much it hardly felt any different than before. But the rigid shift was more than noticeable by Xiao.  It wasn’t until the sky came to rest, with his wavering breaths heating the nape of your neck with an unmistakable hardness at your back that you learned that your faithful adepti was capable of getting a bit overwhelmed.

By the time you’d come to realize what you were feeling, Xiao was politely sliding you from his lap as he stumbled to a stand. You’d been too stunned to complain when he offered to see you home. 

“If this is boring you, we can pick up another. The one about Inazuma was enjoyable.” It seemed as though he wasn’t completely ignorant to your lost thoughts. 

Oh, Xiao. Sweet, sweet Xiao. 

You wondered what he would think of you if he knew where your mind right now. 

Somehow you managed to smile despite only catching part of what he said. Whether it was out of understanding or simply used to your bouts of spacing, Xiao responded by gingerly tipping up your chin and  placing a kiss along your jawline.

Turning your head instinctively, you managed to find his lips instead. He humors you as he typically does, allowing your tongue to glide against his upper lip while your teeth nip at the lower. Xiao was an active learner, gaining his own quirks as he adapted to your playing style.

He was more than accommodating when you politely nudge away the book, unflinching when the spine thudded against the floor. 

Part of you wished Xiao’s smile wasn’t quite so heedless as you twisted around to straddle his waist. What you wouldn’t give to see a bit of heat behind his eyes, not unlike the fire he portrayed in battle. 

When you lean down to kiss him again, he’s more prepared to properly engage. His arms loop loosely around your waist, just enough to keep you in place without restricting your movements. You had no problem being in charge, as long as you understood what the boundaries were. And with Xiao you weren’t always so sure. 

You knew his stalemates, but he always seemed to try for your benefit. Just being with him like this was a testament to that fact. 

Closing his eyes, you felt him completely surrender to the kiss, body relaxing under your encouragement. But it wasn’t meant to be all about him giving. You wanted to give as well, but more importantly you wanted him to receive what he wanted- not what you expected of him. 

He was well practiced though. Tongue curling around yours before sliding back to coat your lips, proving that he does have his own tastes. 

Biting your lip, you drag your hands down the length of his loose shirt where they play with the edges for a moment. When you give it a soft tug, he breaks the kiss with a flushed face. This wasn’t an unexplored stage for you. He proves so when he sits up with ease, taking over to bring the clothing over his head. 

But you don’t want this to fizz out after a well asserted make out session. You wanted to take his leap and fall wherever it left you. 

Leaning closer, you press your temple to his forehead with a sigh. As perceptive as ever, Xiao catches on to the change in mood and strokes your sides quietly as you gain your bearings.

You were never a quiet lover, so why couldn’t you just outright and say it?

“I want to do other things… maybe?”

That was not at all how you planned for that to go. It left out too much in the open and the ambiguousness would only lead him to falter rather than take his own step forward. You wanted this to be a two person dance. If it so happened to be the tango, that was fine too as long as he was an active participant as well. 

“You want to be intimate?”

Blinking repeatedly, you give a slight shake of your head as you try to come to terms with what came out of your lover’s mouth. Surely your vigilant, though socially naive adepti lover hadn’t just outright asked what you’d been dancing around for weeks?

There is a hesitant, but surely knowing look in those golden hues as they ghost over your heated cheeks and comically wide gaze. He even manages a small shrug as if it was a natural conclusion to come to. 

“Don’t look so surprised. I might be … new to all this. But I’m not naive. Besides, you haven’t exactly been subtle lately.”

Well, just throw yourself off Mt. Hulao then.

Xiao only makes it worse by outright laughing at you, as his hands attempt to pry yours away from your face. When you only resist, his grip wanes as he leans in to kiss the tips of your fingers. 

Xiao tipped his cheek into your palm, the unrestrained affections always made the knots of tension and uncertainty melt away. “It’s fine. I’ve accepted this- you. I realize I’m not the most accessible person. “ His words encourage you to lift your head, swept into the determinedness of his voice. He doesn’t mention his karmic debt, an old tune outplayed by your defiance to let it affect your relationship. “But you know you can always call on me. Whenever you need. “

Time moves slowly as you lean in to kiss him again. An exchange that feels different yet so inherently possible by only two souls presents. Gone is the aged resistance tethering him back, gates open to welcome hot open mouths and curious tongue. The heated pants and soft moans could have been from either of you. 

Free of his shirt, there is plenty for you to explore as he answers the demand of your lungs and breaks the kiss. Your hands shake slightly, more from the rush than nerves as his mouth follows the roundness of your cheek to your chin. His temple nudges yours suddenly when your nails dips into the cut of his waist, touch leaving promises of what's to come at your peak. 

Breathless, you pant out," We don't have to go all the way." You had really planned to make a proper vacation out of his off day, not jump your lover the moment his guard was down.

Not that he was complaining.

Xiao lips part to make a gruff sound of uncommitted agreement that sends a shiver down your spine.His lips settle against the curve of your neck, gaze strategically hidden as you tug at one side of his pants before easing down the other. The heat of his face becomes more prevalent to you when you finally free him. Xiao hisses through his teeth as the cool air hits him, though the circle of your hand nearly chokes him as he ruts prematurely into the hold. 

It’s quite the sight, while partially obscured by the curve of his body against yours, the inexplicable knowledge of knowing that you have the conqueror of demons in this position— it takes an extra breath to steady the thud of your chest. You’re certain at this point, even untouched, you’ve soaked the space between your thighs. 

While your record hardly began, you knew enough that Xiao was barely a cut above average. A string of words that had no business being uttered in his direction; but for you, in these moment, was a form of relief. While the literature had held onto its romance, you weren’t ready to experience the pain of feeling something give away. Nor did you want to put Xiao through a moment of witnessing you suffer for his own pleasure. 

For now, you focus on the weight of him in your palm as you pump slowly, thumb coming up to collect the bubble of precum collected at the head. In contrast to your semblance of calm, Xiao trembles, mouth op against your shoulder as he pants against the fabric you neglected to shed. Suddenly the still rising sun feels as though it's at its peak as the room collects the warm from your bodies. 

Xiao’s hip jerk in motion with the next stroke, breath harsh as he mutters out broken speech. The yaksha is often reserved but never speechless. The sound of him stumbling over words is so foreign. It’s exhilarating, driving you with a new sense of determination as your hips edge to meet his. 

The rhythm you settle on is uneven but steady as you bump against each other without practice. Xiao’s hands are clenched against the fabric of your clothing as he cants into your space, face twisted in pleasure in the space behind your ear. Your wrist twists, wringing out every possible sound from his lips. Though no one will ever see, you’ve reduced the conqueror of demons to this. And you feel powerful for it. 

When you squeeze without warning, Xiao’s sharp cry threatens to escape the private moment between you. You watch captivated as his back arches, wrenching his head away from you. Its the first time since you’ve touched him, that you’ve seen the sun-warmed gaze. It’s the near feral desire swirling within them that prompts you crash your lips to his. 

Uncoordinated, but demanding hands tug at your shirt until it joins him on the floor. Not a hint of hesitance bleeds into his touch as his fingertips graze over exploration of your body. Even in his insistence, he’s still trapped by your own touch. You stroke him with a more confident deliverance now, testing the thralls of restraint. There is no doubt that you can bring him to that peak, the tallest climb somehow feeling the shortest in this heated moment. 

Xiao’s traveling touch halts at your waist as he sucks in a breath through his bitten lip. 

The thrill of power makes your head spin as you lean forward to ground yourself, burying your own flushed face into the dampened skin of his shoulder.

“Please…”

God, the waton sound of him losing his grip almost causes you to lose your own. Your hand slips against his slick length, the noises both obscene and erotic. 

The sound of your voice is raspy as you whisper against the shell of his ear,” Do you wish to be conquered, conqueror of demons?”

To hear his title, hard won and revered to be used so disrespectfully in his weakest moment— Xiao felt like he might lose his mind. It took the strength over every adversary he’d bestest to claw his way through the sea of pleasure you’d cast over his head. His resilience manifested by the strengthened grip of your sides. 

“Please ..I—” The adepti shuddered, crumbling to the mere flick of your wrist as you brought him closer and closer to the edge. He could feel the edge give away under his heels, calling him to a placed he’d never known before but was eager to explore. But not alone. 

With more strength than he knew he’d possessed, Xiao managed to circle his hand around yours to still your movements. The action brought about a pregnant pause, swelled by the harsh pants of body bodies as both came to terms with the bridge yet to be crossed. 

“Do you not want to…?”

Xiao’s body jolted at the first sound of uncertainty in your voice. Just moments ago he’d been so aroused by your confidence and stride. He would always be your protector but it had been exhilarating to be at your mercy. And he never wanted you to feel ashamed for it. 

“No, no I—” Xiao was frustratingly uncharacteristic with his stuttering as he struggled to manage simple sentences. Every word felt like it was floating just out of reach, yet the slight tremble of uncertainty in your exhale grounded him enough to yank them down. “I want to, just not without you.” He wanted to reach this peak with you. It only felt right that way. 

Xiao is pleased with the warmth of assurance he receives as he carefully draws your touch away from his most sensitive core. With slow deliberation he switches your positions, laying you under him as he braces above. 

“ I want to remember these moments for centuries to come, “ he whispers as his mouth descends. You barely manage a whimper Me too before his hips make contact with your again. From this angle, the friction is different and less one-sided than before. Not to say you hadn’t enjoyed reducing the adepti to a melted puddle of your devotion, but sharing this moment topped it. 

Your choked gasp is answered by a pleased rumble as Xiao splits your legs, rucking up one calf high against his thigh as he ruts downward. And now, now you can truly relish in the delicious agony you’d put him through only moments before. 

A crawl of exuberance flows through your nerves as Xiao looks down between your bodies in amazement, how even still partially clothed it could feel this good. The promises of what it would be like without seems to bleed from your thoughts to his as his stark gaze captures yours. 

Its clumsily and desperate but the actions of you two tangled up in the process of removing your bottoms brings a bubble of laughter to your lips. It causes Xiao to pause briefly, stuck in the moment of simultaneously tugging away his pants and sticky, sweat flattened strands of his hair with the other hand. It was memorable. 

A moment in time just for the two of you. 

You’re thankful that Xiao doesn’t linger with his gaze. Under the brightness of the day, you’re wholly unprepared for that kind of scrutiny. For now you want to take him in purely by touch alone.

“I want to taste you,” his words come as a soft plea, that you doubt he even realizes as his gaze swirls with desire. “Still together. But just for a moment.” Xiao remains endearing in his diligence to always put your well being first. It’s impossible not to tease him for it, just once. 

“Oh, you know, do you?” It helps to draw away from what you know the sight of you must be: a light coat of perspiration against your chest as your breath gradually evens, and your legs parted unabashedly around him. “Do you think about it when you’re off in the marshes alone?”

Whether or not your claims rang true, the bright tip to his ears was enough for you. Your head tips back with laughter as Xiao grumbles above you. It may have well enough continued like that for a few more bouts had you not felt the tips of his fingertips between your thighs. 

Despite the crawl of heat from his nape to his cheeks, a mirror of your own, Xiao holds your gaze as his digits slide through your slick before applying pressure at your entrance. Slowly but certainly, his confidence rebuilds as your body quakes responsively to his touch. Lithe fingers remain true to his novice learned craft, thrusting deliberately without any other distractions. But for you it's enough as your body curls and rubs against it. Your body is naive and greedy enough to soak every bit of pleasure, forgetting the technicality of it all for the promise of his affections.

Your thighs tense when his cheek falls to your thigh as he watches in rapture at how you clenches just because of his fingers. You want more of him. So much more. Likely more than either of you were ready to handle, but what was truly the scope when being with an adeptus?

The first lap comes with the short abruptness of a kitten lick, then another without rhyme. Each flick off his tongue off beat to the point that you’d drive yourself crazy just trying to keep up. Through the haze of pleasure, you run a hand through his hair and tug gently, shifting your hips to angle towards his mouth. Even his unsteady breathing against you is driving you mad.

“Oh…oh god,” you gasp, lowering a hand to the back of Xiao’s skull in reactive response.

You moan as you lift your hips off the sofa and try to press closer. You’ve given up on the ardent task of keeping your eyes open as your body begins to tremble. Through the haze of the pressure you’re experiencing, you manage to articulate the sound of his name. Xiao answers the call with a nod of recognition as his draws away. 

“Together,” he echos, licking his lips relishing in the heady taste of you. The insistence was the sweetest torture with the grandest reward.

His fingers drop from you to wrap around your legs and grip your thighs as he positions himself. Even his unsteady breathing against you is driving you mad. The first press of him is hesitant as he prods. Though you do your best to withhold, you flinch against your will still learning to take him. As his hips still you tense, eyes you didn't realize had close flashing open with surprise. 

“Xiao, I—”

With a fresh balm of tenderness, your lover quiets the staccato of your heart as he presses capture your lips in a slow kiss. One hand leaves your side to brace the side of your face, holding you close as he sucks intimately at your tongue. At your soft but even exhale, he pulls away enough to settle his forehead against yours. Together you both breathe in, slow but assured as your hearts tumble in tandem. 

Xiao follows every slow drag of his breach with soft words of encouragement and sprinkled endearment. He drowns the feeling of him breaching your most intimate spot with the sound of his devotion and commitment to you. It’s a valiant effort as his tone lifts you just above the searing heat of him filling you. Until it's not the feel of him settling at the hilt, but the carefully crafted I love you that nearly causes you to burst. 

“I love you too, “ you gasp around his name as he initiates a cautious cant into you, further encouraged by the clench of your inner muscles as you cry into his shoulder. The pace is gradual but deliberate, with all the strength of a general aged by eons of patience. 

His face mirrors your crinkle of concentration and pleasure. Neither of you expect it to last long, too overwhelmed by the sound of you.

Xiao is the one who takes the fact into stride, determined for you to know only pleasure as he urges you to match uptick in rhythm. The fabric of the sofa against your back is delightful, as his drives urge a path of friction. 

 Xiao would never forgive himself if he missed the telling flutter of your lashes just before you surrender completely to him. It drives him forward, determined to chase you to depths he’s never reached, piloted simply by the knowledge of meeting you there. You try valiantly to keep up, but he simply takes the reins for himself. His hands hold you determinedly in place as he thrusts until you’re light-headed and babbling. 

He would savor the feeling of you unraveling for more than centuries to come, for millennia even after he follows you to the place beyond this world. The adepti surges forward to swallow your cry as you shudder and quake around him. The wave of your warmth washes away his restraint as he crumbles, capsized by you once again as he collapses against you. 

Despite his weight, your chest fills with every breath to the brim as you slowly come down from what could only be the heavens. You’re too languid to move, too exhausted to think beyond the muscle of the man above you. 

The best you can manage is to curl your arm around his sweaty back, fingers tangling in his hair as he groans out a muffled sound of appreciation. Your heart thumps slowly against the slight upturn of his lips as you bite through your own, unable to contain your happiness.

Even if you'd both put up your best efforts, nothing would be able to stop the slow drift of your eyelids as you accepted the blanket of exhaustion that settled over you both. Xiao who would have shown the most resistance, carefully extracted himself with a grimace before settling himself with a huff between your parted thighs. Your hand, that had become dislodged in his adjustments, was brought back to the crown of his head before he settled with a slow exhale.

You smiled and resume massaging the pads of your fingers into his scalp. If it was to be said that the conquer of demons could slept the day away, it wouldn't be found on your lips.

As the faint sounds of Liyue transitioning to midday, echoed from below, you came to terms with the fact it was unlikely that the two of you would get much of anything else done today.

There would certainly be more ‘vacation days’ on the horizon.

[stingslikeabee]

Even though nothing transpired on the woman's face, the prince's immediate reaction - repulsion, rejection, distaste - had Melissa entertained and amused. That was precisely what she sought by disguising her true appearance, of course - and not with an ultimate goal of measuring his worth or testing his principles. No, nothing as utopic as that - the fae blood in her veins was free of the morals of mankind, and right then all she needed was a way to pass the time.

The idea of revealing herself and watching a royal visage grow marred by regret and guilt never got old - but the way he mistreated her blooms had Melissa genuinely upset. Now, if there was something that she truly cherished - more than the magic flowing within, the first rays of sunshine after a storm and the music created by the gentle buzzing of honeybees... These were her roses. And her lilies, daisies, marigolds and poppies - her children.

"Why would you do that?" the voice remained melodic, but the entire disposition of the old lady in tattered rags was suddenly wrong; Melissa stretched and moved to a fully standing position, one that was supposed to be impossible for a body that seemed to bear the weight of decades. The eyes that zoomed onto the man were angry - rather than the mischief of before, there was something decidedly bitter there, painting a strange picture.

Little by little, for each step the prince took backwards, the enchantress added one forward - as if dancing in that room, bringing a revelation with every move. The messy and greying hair turned to glossy, chestnut locks; the wrinkled skin became smooth and soft flesh; the soaked, dark rags slowly transformed into gossamer-like fabric of the lightest colors, the same palette of an early morning sky.

By the time the local ruler had his back against a literal wall, the enchantress had reverted to her true form - a beautiful yet terrifying one. If the illusion of before was unwelcoming, now the genuine visage of the fae was one that inspired fear - as if the transformations would keep coming and she would sprout fangs and claws and tear him apart.

Only Melissa did not - but she smiled at the prince in the cruelest of the ways, capturing a hand of his. The enchantress' touch was warm - above-average, like a caress from a flame, unbothered by the blood that ran freely from the puncture created by the accident with the thorns earlier. The creature looked pleased, at long last - and allowed her tongue to flicker over the wound, effectively cleaning it off as if sampling some delicacy and humming appreciatively as a follow-up to that gesture.

"You taste better than I thought. I think I will stay for a while - you will probably become even sweeter after I am done with the preparations," the enchantress chuckled to herself, releasing the hand and gripping his face next - liquid amber trapping icy turquoise, searching, deciding... Cursing.

"Tell me, your highness - any last words as Adam Florian? You have crushed my precious creations, so I shall now repay you the favor and crush what you cherish the most. Surely these would be your looks, your power or you castle?" A sickeningly sweet chuckle punctuated her threat, "Oh, maybe all of them?"

it  does  not  add  up,  the  prince  thinks  to  himself  as  one  of  the  footmen  ushers  him  towards  the  parlor.  none  whatsoever.  there  are  no  meetings  scheduled  for  tonight,  especially  none  with  one  of  the  commoners.  it  makes  no  sense  to  him  —  yet  none  of  the  servants  are  questioning  it.  quite  frankly,  the  whole  situation  is  rather  irritating  to  him. 

now,  here  he  stands  in  his  parlor  before  the  hooded  old  woman,  blue  eyes  looking  her  up  and  down  as  she  moves  closer  to  him.  the  prince  can't  hide  his  revulsion  ;  he  takes  a  small  step  back,  a  grimace  flashing  across  his  face  at  the  proximity.  it  is  improper  for  one  of  the  common  folk  to  stand  this  close  to  him  under  normal  circumstances,  let  alone  one  like  her.  still,  the  old  woman's  words  grab  his  attention,  and  the  prince's  crystal  gaze  flickers  from  her  to  the  flowers  in  her  hand.  they  are  beautiful,  admittedly,  and  there  is  a  part  of  him  that  feels  drawn  to  accept  them. 

once  upon  a  time,  he  might  have  done  such.  he  would  have  thanked  her.  in  another  life,  he  might  have  taken  the  flowers  with  a  grateful  bow.  in this  one,  though?  the  prince  laughs  ;  it  is  a  cold  and  arrogant  sound,  one  full  of  distain.  he  was  interrupted  for  this?  to  meet  up  with  an  old  woman,  whose  only  offering  to  him  is  that  of  a  bouquet  of  roses?  the  absurdity  of  the  situation  is  rather  amusing.

“ flowers?  is  this  some  sort  of  joke?  ”  adam  scoffs,  hand  reaching  out  for  one  of  the  roses  in  the  woman's  grasp.  however,  right  as  his  fingers  wrap  around  its  stem,  the  thorns  prick  into  pale  skin.  the  prince  winces  sharply  ;  droplets  of  blood  immediately  well  up  in  its  wake,  crimson  dripping  down  onto  the  floor  beneath  them. 

a  fool's  mistake  —  the  injury  has  adam  hissing,  throwing  the  flower  down  onto  the  floor  as  quickly  as  if  it  were  a  venomous  snake,  poised  for  the  kill.  it  is  not  the  smartest  move,  what  he  does  next,  fueled  by  irritation  and  anger  :  the  prince  steps  forward,  grinding  the  beautiful  rose's  petals  beneath  the  heel  of  his  boot. 

there  is  a  quick  glance  down  at  the  blood  on  his  hand,  then  his  attention  turns  back�� to  the  woman  in  front  of  him,  taking  in  the  details  before  him.  her  hands  are  unmarred  from  the  thorns.  no,  she  clutches  the  flowers  as  if  they  were  completely  and  utterly  harmless.  it  does  not  make  sense  ;  nothing  about  this  whole  encounter  has  made  bloody  sense.  however,  it  is  only  then  during  this  little  study  that  he  notices  it  :  the  old  woman's  gaze,  curious  and  gleaming,  watching  him  oh-so-closely. 

the  sight  is  disconcerting,  and  there  is  a  nagging  voice  in  the  back  of  adam's  mind  screaming  at  him  to  run  as  far  away  as  he  possibly  can.

“  what  is  this?  ”   he  hisses,  taking  another  step  back.   “  what  kind  of  game  are  you  playing  here,  woman?  ”

[damonsvftie]

𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐎𝐧 𝐎𝐧𝐞

MEGA MASTER LIST

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST

Summary: Teasing your boyfriend Draco Malfoy in places that are risky isn't the best idea but when he decides to get you back for it you have no where to run.

Warnings: Female oral/receiving and quite filthy umm- yeah and it’s 2.6k words in total

I  was sat at the back of Snape's classroom as i brushed my fingers across Draco's thigh causing him to straighten. My fingers were slowly dancing their way up when he grabbed at my hand from under the desk. "Stop it y/n," he mumbled through gritted teeth, on the verge of clearly moving his seat further away from me. The way his cheeks were flushing red made a small grin crawl across my face, especially when I knew the affect i had on him.

Snape had demonstrated the class on how to do a potions practical and now we were going to be doing our own with our partners. "I'll go get the stuff," i murmured with a grin as he slightly nodded. Placing the handful of ingredients onto the table, I by accidentally dropped one on purpose.

Bending down to pick it up, I  made sure that Draco was able to see whatever was visible under my hiking skirt, teasing him with the sight of my clearly soaking panties. From the corner of my vision, I  could see the way he gulped and tugged at his collar trying his hardest not to peek and get distracted.

helping him put the ingredients into the tiny cauldron, his hand quivered as he tried to maintain his patience. "You okay there?" I  teased, leaning across the the counter, face inches away from his. "Never been better," he mumbled frustratedly.

—

"I'm so exhausted like honestly I could take a break right now," huffed Pansy as she plopped down next to Malfoy on the emerald green couch of the slytherin common room. "Snapes starting to get on my nerves, setting us exams every other day as if I don't have other things too do," groaned blaise, throwing his head back , slumping into his seat, his arms crossed against his chest.

I decided to go and meet Draco since today was a Saturday although  he clearly mentioned that he was going to be studying with his other group of posse and he didn't want me near him but I could care less about what he wanted. Swinging the substantial doors of the common room open, i trotted towards the three of them, swiftly placing myself onto Draco's lap, my arms flung around his shoulder as Pansy rolled her eyes and blaise shook his head.

"Can you two get a room?" They chimed in unison. Draco shifted uncomfortably under me, slowly removing my hands of him pushing me away a little. "Not today y/n, we have to finish this assignment off and your only going to get in the way," he explained, in a certain demeanour.

Glancing at one another, Parkinson and Zabini got up and headed for the door. "Don't worry about it Draco we'll finish it off," she explained, a small giggle trailing her words as they both shut the door behind them leaving the two of us alone.

"Turning me down were you?" I raised a brow, my hands on my hips as my facial expressions turned serious. "Why- What are you going to do about it?" He answered back, a small grin crawling across his face. The clattering of my shoes became more audible as I seductively walked towards him. I started to softly lower myself down onto his lap, straddling him as my finger ran down his chest. "Things you won't imagine," I muttered, my glossy lips ghosting against his. "Do you really think it's a good idea too disobey the slytherin princess?" The tone of my voice cocky as I purred into his ear.

Pulling away purposely, I smoothed out the fabric of my clothes, heading for the door while I gave him one last glance, my tongue swiping across the top of my teeth.

—

"What's the occasion?" Questioned Draco as he drummed his fingers impatiently on the table in the great hall. Purposely ignoring him, I began speaking flirtatiously to Blaise Zabini, a small grin smearing across his face as I bit my lower lip. Today I had curled my hair and applied some makeup to slightly enhance my features. Since today was a Saturday, that meant I didn't have to wear my uniform so I ended up wearing a plaid, mini skirt paired with a green crop top and last but not least, styled with some doc martens.

Malfoy sat there  staring down at his plate, stealing a few glances towards me as i twirled a loose strand around my finger while I openly flirted with one of his minions. "Zabini.. I was wondering if you'd maybe want to help me with my homework... only if you want too," the last of my words rolling of the tip of my tongue smoothly as my eyes diffused into a darker shade. "No- you don't need his help," interrupted Draco as he pulled on my arm dragging me out of the great hall.

Striding through the corridors, pulling me along with him he suddenly pinned me against the wall. "Do you have any idea about what your doing," he sneered, his eyes boring into my soul as a sheepish smirk appeared across my visage. "No.. not at all. Why?" My voice innocent as I played with his mind. "You think it's okay to be such a tease?" His words barely coming out of his mouth as he grinded his teeth together. "You think it's okay to walk around with that fucking tiny skirt and turn me on like that?" He spoke while he breathed down my neck. "I have no idea wh-what your talking about," my words tripping over one another as I attempted to put up my act.

His lips ghosted over mine as his fingers trailed down my body causing me to shudder. Sending me on the edge of breaking character, his thumb slightly pulled down on my lower lip, exposing my flesh as I almost started to melt underneath him. Since I couldnt let that happen, I hastily swapped positions so that he was now flipped under me. "Impatient are we?" I questioned teasingly while the tip of my finger traced the outline of his jaw, later waking off into the other direction, intentionally making sure I swayed my hips.

—

Deciding that it was for the best, I somehow ended up leaving Draco alone. No more teasing, no more nothing. He was beginning to get irritated with me and seeing him get infuriated was the last thing anyone wanted so I ended up backing out.

"Are you mad at me?" I asked while I lifted his arm so I could slip under him. He harshly pulled away from my grasp and neither did he reply. "Draco... I'm sorry," the last of my words becoming quiet as I backed away from him.

"I thought I told you that I hate being teased in public," the tone in his voice filled with anger as he got up from the couch, his back turned towards me. "I know but- its kind of fun seeing you all flushed," I responded before he cut me off. "Flushed? You tease me, you play with me and then you go after Blaise?" He groaned, turning his twisted face around as he stared at me in disbelief.

"Okay I'm sorry- I'll quit being such a tease. I won't do it next time," I huffed as he looked me up and down, a smirk spreading across his face. Leaning into my ear, his other hand snaked across my waist as he whispered gently causing me to flush. "There won't be a 'next time',"

—

The next day I went down to the great hall for some breakfast and sat myself down next to Goyle. "Can someone pass me the syrup?" My voice eager to devour the stack of pancakes in front of me until I saw Draco walking into the halls with his arm slung over Pansy Parkinson.

"What the hell?" I muttered under my breathe, as they took their seat opposite me. Aware that he was just trying to get me back, I ignored their presence and continued feasting on the delicious food that sat before me. Glancing up at him through my thick lashes, I could see the distorted look on his face as he furrowed his brows in confusion. He probably thought to himself 'why isn't she paying attention?'.

The whole day had passed by and I sat in 4th period besides Hermione Granger, slumping deeper into my seat the more she shot her hand up to answer the teachers questions. My gaze diverted onto the clock, watching it tick away. There were only 2 minutes left until class ended and I was particularly eager about 5th period mainly because it was Snape's class and Draco was my partner.

I wanted to see what type of show he was going to put up so I threw my head back against my chair waiting until the professor dismissed the class. Grabbing my stuff and walking down to Potions class, I sucked in a sharp breathe before entering and taking my seat beside Malfoy. Scooting myself away from him, I acted as if he was invisible and fixed my attention onto the lesson.

"Mad are you?" He whispered, moving his chair closer to me, a wide grin curling from the corner of his mouth. "Why would I be mad? I'm not your girlfriend anyways," I firedback uninterested. "What makes you say that?" The tone in his voice softer than before as he glanced at my side profile. "I mean aren't you with Pansy?" I spoke lifelessly as if this subject was the most dead thing ever. "Could say the same for you... aren't you with Zabini?" His voice sending me over the edge, my mouth breaking out into a small smile.

"You really do know how to get on my nerves don't you?" My nose scrunching up as I flicked my hair in his face. Suddenly, he placed his hand on my knee, pulling at it. "Draco- What are you doing?" I questioned as my breathing hitched. "payback," he replied as his eyes changed into aluminium grey while he looked up at me through his dense, long lashes, lifting a brow.

Pushing my skirt past my thighs, his long fingers, corded with blue veins, glided up the silky, smooth surface of my skin causing me to purse my lips tightly as I gripped onto the edge of the desk. Inch by inch, he gradually closed the distance between the tip of his fingers to My now pulsing cunt. The heat raised to my cheeks making me blush hard as he sensually dragged his finger up my fully clothed heat making me jolt out of my seat, panting slightly.

"Miss. Y/l/n your disturbing the class, please take your seat now," ordered Snape as I ran my hand over my hair in second hand embarrassment. "Right- I'm sorry," I apologised before wearily seating myself again, a tiny giggle being held back from Draco.

—

"What the HELL do you think you were doing back there? You could have got us both into trouble!" My voice raising at him. "Darling relax, your only being like this because I almost embarrassed you," he stated, a look of temptation appearing on him. Plopping myself onto my bed I crossed my arms. "Can't you just leave me alone like I did with you?" I argued as he stood leaning against the wall with a cocky smirk that soon vanished. "No. You should have known better and now you've got no where to run," he retorted, as he came closer towards me, his hair tousled and his tie hung loosely around his neck. "What makes you think you can get away with anything?" He asked as he crouched down, his face level with mine.

Deciding to be mature, I kept my mouth closed instead of fighting back because I full on knew things would get out of hand. "Can't give me an answer now can you?" He taunted his grin drooping as his facial expression transitioned into a look of perilous. Grabbing at my face, forcing me too look straight into his intimidating gaze he leaned into my ear whispering 'open your legs' before shoving me back.

He was fuming with anger and I knew there was nothing better than getting him exasperated, especially when he looked incredibly sexy and irresistible. “No, were already One On One,” I answered making him cock his brow. “Did you just disobey me? I said open. Your. Legs,” his voice coarse and rough. “Make me open them,” I replied innocently, as I closed my legs tight.

Pushing my knees apart, he hooked his arms into my legs pulling me closer to the edge of my bed, my skirt riding up. Propping up on my elbows, I batted my lashes as if I were to be the most holy and pure person ever. “You dare disobey me like that,” he sneered before brushing his fingers against my pulsating cunt causing me to shift under him. The way his arm pushed my small figure deep into the mattress as he placed his tongue onto my clothed heat made me whimper underneath. “Oh my mer-,” I struggled to say as his tongue teased the skin on the side of my heat making me ache.

Within seconds, he looped a finger onto my soaking, transparent panties, pulling them to the side to take a quick view of my now throbbing pink, pussy that practically wanted him all over me. Trying to wriggle out of his firm hold, he pushed me down even deeper, as I tried to shimmy my skirt down past my thighs until he shoved away my hand. “Keep it on,” he demanded.

Positioning his head in the place I needed him the most he again pulled my panties to the side, blowing cold air onto my throbbing clit making me squirm. Giving me a little grin, he devoured into my entrance, slowly and sensually pulling and lapping at my clit, sending me into a sudden state of euphoria. Adding his thumb in, he rubbed slow and delicate circles on my little bundle of never as he ran his tongue up and down my slit continuously before applying even more pressure to my nerve. “Draco I- please- I cant,” my voice begging him to stop as the feeling made me sensitive.

I could hear him growl ‘No’ deeply into my pussy, sending me over the edge, making me tug at his tousled blonde strands as he made out with my heat. Plunging two digits into my entrance without a warning, I let out a huge moan as he picked up the pace of his thrusting while he multitasked. “Draco oh god- I cant take it anymore,” my pleading voice breaking in between as my legs shook, trying to close around his head.

Almost on the edge of releasing, he withdrawed away from me, almost panting as he wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. “Why did you stop?” I squeaked as I say upright. “That’s what you deserve,” he responded as he adjusted his tie his fingertips now running through his hair. Trying to shut my legs together, I squealed in desperation for the numb feeling to go away. “Draco- I cant walk, I’m sore as hell,” I whined as I threw my head back in pain.

“Learn how to walk yourself,” he riposted before heading his way out of the door.

[queenmuzz]

26 and 28 with F!reader x Vergil, where Reader says both of the words to Vergil. Kill me with fluff muzz like how you kill me with angst.

“You’re really warm.” “Can I stay here tonight?”

Vergil cursed himself, as he carried your shivering body through the portal.  He should have known that the ice wave was aimed for you.  He should have known that Frosts were about to show up in that area.  He SHOULD have known that taking you along was an error of judgement.  HIS error of judgement.  And now you would pay the price for his mistakes. “You’re thinking too hard” You murmured between chattering teeth.  “Silence” he said, with no venom. The fact that you were still coherent to make a joke at his expense was a good sign, (although, if his brother with the single brain cell was able to do that on a regular basis, the bar was incredibly low), and he was slightly relieved.  When he had first picked you up, you had been so cold, he had immediately feared the worst.

But, your heartbeat was still there, and thankfully you were still breathing, if the puffs of fog indicated.  Without warning, without even telling his son or brother, only hearing Dante yelling “Oh come on, you’re gonna strand us here!?” as the portal sealed shut.  Vergil did not care.  The two of them, with hot demon blood racing through their veins, were more than immune to the chilling effects and were more than capable to deal with the threat.  You, on the other hand, with your weak human constitution, would quickly succumb to the cold.  He wasn’t familiar with first aid, but he knew that he needed to warm you up, and quickly.  He could deal with his brother’s complaining later.

Taking the stairs two at a time, he nearly kicked the bathroom off its hinges with his foot as he carried you inside.  You needed a warm bath, but...he looked down at you, nearly dozing off in his arms (Not a good sign, he knew that at least), he was somewhat hesitant.  You and him were close...but not that close, regardless of the insinuations Dante would constantly quip.

He pondered as he slowly let you down and turned on the bathtub faucet, what to do.  You needed to get warm, and fast.  But undressing you… even with your life in the balance, his sense of honour dictated that seeing you unclothed, without your consent, he hesitated.

Perhaps… he could find a possible way around this.  After the water filled up as far as it was safe, he picked up your nearly unconscious for, and after a murmured apology, he gently placed you into the tub, clothes and all.  At the very least, the warm water would not be a shock to your system.

Still, as you came to, you weren’t that happy.

“Vergil…” you asked confused, “what in the hell” you looked down as your sweater, now almost double its original size.

“You were suffering from hypothermia”  he explained, as confidently as he could.  “I deemed that it was necessary to get you into a warm situation as soon as possible.”

“Yeah, but my clothes and all?” 

“You were beginning to drift off, time was of the essence.”  Yes, that would be his official reason.  “How are you feeling?”

“Better” you smiled at him, “I can feel my toes again,” and as if to show off you wiggled your feet, barely visible underneath the soaked shoes you wore.  “Really Vergil, my new shoes!?  You could have at least taken them off.  I’m billing you for this,” you chuckled.

You seemed a lot better, with your sense of humour intact, so he thought it was alright to leave you alone while he fetched fresh towels (from his stash, he never would allow you to be forced to use his brother's), and after a bit of hesitation, he chose his own bathrobe.  

You were already out of the tub when he came back, and were in the process of struggling to get off your shirt, revealing a lot more skin that he had expected.  Hurriedly, he placed the towels down, and left, before you had even noticed his arrival.

He tried to take his mind off your nearly topless visage, but that led to the thing that caused this whole situation.  He should have been more alert, more cautious… more protective.  He sat down on his bed, head in his hands.  What would have happened if he hadn’t gotten you out of there in time?  What would happen the next time you went on a mission without him, or went solo.  The very thought of you laying alone, injured…

“Hey,”

He looked up to see you leaning on the doorframe.  You were wrapped up in a bathrobe that was comically too big for you, but there was a look of concern on your face.

“You okay?”

“I could say the same thing to you.”

“I’m fine, wrung out my clothes as best as I could, and hung them up on the shower rod, hopefully they don’t drip too much.” You cocked your head, “May I come in?”

Vergil nodded, and you took a seat beside him, your hand interlacing with his.

“Thank you,”  you said quietly, as if afraid to break the silence, “I know I was really snarky about it earlier, but I am truthfully grateful.  I shouldn’t have been so dumb and got got up in that attack, I’ve fought dozens of those things, and they’re all so predictable.”

“It’s not your fault, the fau-” but he was cut off by your finger on his lips.

“Now now, remember what I said about things we can’t control, besides,” you wrapped your arms around him, “It's how you responded that’s important.” Hesitatingly embraced you, pulling you closer to his chest.

“You’re really warm.”

“Pardon?”

“When you were carrying me out of there, I felt like I was drifting off, even though some part of my brain told me that was the worst thing I could do.  But being held so close,” you snuggled deeper into his chest, “I could feel your warmth, and I clung to it like a lifeline.  It possibly was the only thing keeping me going...well, until you dumped me into the bath.”  He could feel a faint breath of a chuckle, followed by a suppressed yawn.  “Tired?” he asked, just the slight worry that the hypothermia hadn’t gone away. “A bit…” you admitted, “and seeing as I have no dry clothes at the moment…”

“Can I stay here tonight?”

Silently, he leaned back, pulling you gently onto the bed, arranging it so that you had to move as little as possible, your head resting on his chest.  It was a good arrangement, he could monitor your condition, and you can enjoy the ‘warmth’ of his body.  

“Thank you, Vergil” you whispered tiredly, and he placed a soft kiss on the top of your head.

Unsurprisingly, it didn’t take long for you to fall asleep.  Surprisingly, it didn’t take HIM long for him to fall asleep either, each of you lulled to sleep by each other’s warmth.

[visceryl]

Age of Corruption - D&D

Here’s a little short story based on a Dungeons and Dragons campaign our group runs. I absolutely adore this group with all of my being. Liam belongs to @angrynar. Elijah belongs to @kas-voton. Safin belongs to @noceurro. Benny belongs to @zuulosdovah. Fennorin belongs to me. Sar belongs to someone off of tumblr!

--------------------------

“Excuse me?”

Fennorin’s voice rang out in cold shock as white wisps of hair coated red from battle hung down in his face. His chest heaved, the fists locked around his longsword trembling with effort. 

He watched the lanky boy of sickly pale skin hover over a drow. Liam sported a grin sharp and wicked enough to make a heart jump twice in shock, then recoil of fear. A spell buzzed upon his fingertips, the will of the weave tainted black with necrotic misuse. It raised the drow’s veins to the surface of his skin, crowding them with boiling agony. 

The captive yelled out in his mother tongue. A rough, deep language that turned to the sad wails of a creature mourning its emintent fate. The open cavern of the Underdark did little to dampen the echoes of his begs. 

“He deserves to die!” Liam barked back. “They all deserve to die!”

Even Elijah shifted nervously behind the servitor. A fresh ooze of blood filled the spaces between his fingers as they pressed between the loops of his armor where a blade had embedded in flesh. 

“No, Liam!” 

The servitor of Corellon staggered forward a step, his foot dragging over bones that littered the floor. Skulls, ribs, fibias, tibias. From wicked beasts that hunted the unofficial layer escaped from hell to surface dwelling races dragged to the belly of its depths. He stumbled, letting his sword crumble from his hands.

Steel on stone pierced the tension with a resounding clatter.

“This isn’t you! This isn’t what Kainan would have wanted!” 

Liam’s lips curled upon the holy worshipper’s approach. He hated him. He hated the elf that made his insides boil simply by being around him. He hated the way Fennorin always put himself in the way of his nature, parading himself around like a saint when he’d done no better a time or two. 

He wasn’t holy. He put Kainan in the ground and would do the same for anyone here, but not Liam. Death didn’t have to be the final line. He knew how to bring them back even if it wasn’t the same. His fingers curled tighter into the drow’s hair, wrenching his head back to look upwards into his own hellish gaze. 

“You’re wrong. I’ve always been this.”

“I know that’s not true. I don’t care what’s in your blood, Liam. You will always be my family, and I will not let you do this alone. We will get you through this together, whatever those fanatics say, they’re wrong!”

Fennorin was close now. Close enough to reach out for the mage. 

For a moment, Liam’s grip on the drow sagged, letting his head turn back to the floor. He leveled his gaze on Fennorin, jaw clenched so tight it jumped with strain. No one said anything. No one even moved.

The battle had nearly wiped everyone out. Elijah, hanging at sanity’s edge as he waited for any chance to step in if needed. Safin on the ground with Benny’s head in her lap as she eases the bleeding from a nasty wound. Sar pulling on his ears and cursing Allustan for dragging him into a mission he was too faint of heart for. They were all so tired.

Liam skimmed his gaze over them with wavering resolve. He’s wrong. He lies. He just wants to get you to turn yourself over so he can finish you. The voice lingered maliciously in the back of his head. Hostile and full of blinding rage. His fingers twitched in the drow’s hair, the spell held at ready surging wildly once more. 

“Please,” Fennorin begged, his voice softer. The pale skinned elf reached a bloody hand out for his friend to take.

Not this time.

Jet black fogged over Liam’s eyes and the drow dropped discarded to the floor. His own hand leapt up, latching to the servitor’s and the spell released. It shattered through the elf’s defenses. 

A scream lit up the silent cavern as visions of hell warped and tore at Fennorin’s mind. Liam held fast. His dark energy challenged the divine glow rooted at his friend’s core, watching veins of black crawl up Fennorin’s arm, corrupting. 

The elf’s footing quickly caved and a skull splintered beneath him as his knees crashed to the ground. Blood began to soak through his trousers around the area, but the pain went unrecognized up against Liam’s influence.

Elijah fumbled for his blade in a panic. Fingers slipped slick over the pommel before pausing in hesitation. Could he truly raise his sword up against his friend? No. For all the fear coiling tight in his stomach, he knew the blade would never pierce Liam’s skin. But he held it aloft, leveling the mage threateningly. 

“Let him go, Liam! You don’t want to do this!”

Black eyes flicked mindlessly to the large boy. “Except I do.”

He released Fennorin with a shove far beyond his own strength. Like a god swiping down on an ant, the elf was sent crashing back into Elijah, narrowly avoiding the sharp end of the raised blade. 

It was immediately dropped for strong arms to coil around Fennorin. Elijah staggered back, brandishing the weight as the elf struggled to find his footing. He could feel the heavy breaths rattling in Fennorin’s chest, the shivers of mental exhaustion trembling in every muscle.

Liam didn’t wait to level another spell at them. His fingertips curved into wicked claws, his teeth elongated and carnivorously sharp. Rivulets of blood clung to his lower lip and whitened teeth from shredding through the inside of his own cheeks. The spell cracked like a whip, a jet of ebon darkness striking the both. 

Kill them. You don’t need them. 

He watched as Elijah’s grasp on Fennorin loosened. A gasp parted the brunette’s lips, his body arching in a twist of anguish. Both were back on their knees in an instant. Fennorin’s weight rocked onto his forearms as they brandished upon the cold ground. An awful choking strangled in his lungs, strings of blood pooling his mouth and dribbling down his chin.

“That’s enough,” Safin finally declared. She eased Benny from her lap, her palm facing outwards to Liam as a small wooden splinter began to enlarge at the center.

“Don’t.”

Fennorin’s voice scraped out raw, his shoulders shaking. He rose from his curled position like a ghoul from the ground, pallid features turning up to Liam. “It’s not him, Safin. Please don’t hurt him.”

Safin’s gaze flicked between the two wearily. There was the slightest hint of hesitation as if a consideration of ending it had been taken. But she trusted their healer. Fennorin wasn’t perfect. He was stubborn and sometimes blinded by his own faith, but he always got them through everything.

She grimaced and lowered her hand.

Liam’s lips parted in a toothy grin that spanned ear to ear and while her’s lowered, his raised. Another flare of magic readied to smite down the servitor. He stepped past Elijah who lay unseeing, invisible nightmares plaguing his waking mind.

His footsteps stopped in front of Fennorin, an air of disgust wrinkling his nose. The mage knelt down to level them both, the hand flaring with mana coming to rest gentle upon the elf’s cheek. “You should have let her,” he whispered. “This is me now, Fen. Accept it.”

The hand scalded at Fennorin’s cheek. He forced his gaze to remain on Liam’s, his own hand fumbling within his robes to latch onto something solid hung at his neck. 

“I can’t accept that.” 

Liam’s features contorted into an angry snarl. His hand burned hotter on the elf’s cheek, near branding him with necrotic energy. “Why not!?”

Tears surfaced in Fennorin’s eyes like he’d already accepted he could very well die here trying to save Liam’s soul. A sob strangled in his chest. He tore the silver chain from around his neck and feebly lofted his holy symbol up.

It was met with the psychotic laughter of a devil. 

“That won’t work on me, Fennorin. I’m still very much alive.”

“That’s not what it’s for,” Fennorin presses. The salt of tears mixes with the taste of metal heavy on his tongue. His cheek leaned towards Liam’s touch and he managed to grab hold of his other hand, forcing the holy symbol of Corellon into his grasp. “Whatever is in your head, it’s not your god, Liam. Real gods don’t ask their followers to change who they are for them. You have not been abandoned.”

Liam curled his fingers around the symbol carved of pure silver, threatening to bend it in his iron grip. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

Something twisted in Liam’s chest as he stared down his friend. How did he answer with such certainty even facing death itself? How did he just sit there and take it? He was the Spawn of Bhaal. A visage of true evil to spread death and destruction in the wake of his angered and forgotten god while Fennorin was a visage of true good. A healer to uphold the light even in crippling darkness. They couldn’t have been further opposites. Why did he care?

“I’m not lying, Liam. The dark gods are cruel. They’re devils disguised as holy beings, and all we can do is endure them, but I promise you, the real gods would never abandon you. You’re no elf. You’re no healer or student of the arts. But Corellon loves you. He loves you because I love you and every night I pray to him to save you! I pray for him to protect you from the devil infested blood running through your veins because blood is not a defining quality! It is a building block of life that gives you the sentience to be your own person. And the person you are is one of my best friends. For that… you will never be abandoned. Corellon will protect you even long after I’m dead.”

“Shut up!” 

Liam’s voice raised in an angry roar, his hand lifting from Fennorin’s cheek only to connect again in a vicious slap that tore claws across his cheek. 

The elf yelped out, his head snapping to the side as skin split beneath the force. It almost burned as much as the magic had. “I will always love you,” he repeated, the words forced through tears.

Another slap.

Then a fist. It sailed into Fennorin’s gut.

Liam couldn’t think. The anger that boiled inside him shifted gears to someone else. That voice. The lingering catalyst to his demise. A noise tore from his chest, sounding of a wounded animal in the night. 

His body shuddered before giving out. He collapsed against Fennorin as the black faded, returning the whites of his eyes and the subtle stormy blue of irises. The holy symbol remained clutched in his grasp as sobs overtook him. He pressed himself closer to the warm glow of the servitor who’s fresh wounds left him complacent against the boy.

“I’m sorry,” he finally gasped. “I’m sorry, i’m so sorry.”

Fennorin swallowed the rock lodged in his throat, releasing a breath that shook his entire being. Arms worked around Liam with an exhausted squeeze, swathing him in an embrace. He pushed his face down to the mage’s shoulder.

The magic holding Elijah released as Liam lost himself in clinging to his friend. 

“I forgive you.” The words that tumbled from the elf wrenched another sob free from Liam and fingers twisted into robes. Desperate. “We’re going to fix this. I’m not going to abandon you. Ever.”

The two held each other fiercely, Fennorin soothingly stroking Liam’s hair until finally the sobs faded and breaths evened out. Sleep took the mage like a silent lover in the night, coaxed by the warmth of his friend.

[doobler]

Realization

It was just a reconnaissance mission, that's all. In, posted behind cover for three nights, then out. Easy peasy. No problem.

But Vykan was nervous and he couldn't figure out why.

"Are you certain your weapons are up to standard?" He wrung his hands, following Jonah to the canteen. "And your armor, is it fully functional?"

"Yeah and duh, what are you so panicky about?" Jonah pressed onward, unfazed. 

"I have a strange feeling in my stomach that I cannot shake."

"Well, shake it somehow," Jonah stopped, stepping aside to allow foot traffic to pass. He pulled off his helmet and gave the Elite a stern look. "I'm a sniper remember? I'm really really really good at this shit. You being nervous is making me nervous. Chill out."

Vykan flexed his mandibles to argue but Jonah simply shoved on his helmet and bolted for the door.

---

Vykan laid on his bunk hours later, still ruminating, still pondering. He tried not to think about how close his room was to Jonah's, how easy it would be to simply sit outside his door and wait.

Gods. What the hell was wrong with him? He pressed his palms into his eyes and suppressed a frustrated shout. Back before he was a heretic, before he was an ally to the UNSC, he was a Special Operations Commander. He spoke to the Prophets personally, all the time. He relayed their messages to the Council. He commanded an army of highly ranked, highly skilled operatives. He was a tactician, an incredibly formidable warrior, a threat to any enemy of the Covenant.

And now he was fretting over a human like a hormonal youth.

Vykan peeled his hands off of his face and shot up like a missile, cold realization coursing through his veins.

Oh.

Oh.

Shit.

---

It was time for Jonah to ship out. The hour was 0200 so barely anyone was roaming around. With his helmet tucked under his arm, he made for the door.

He flinched when it slid open and Vykan was standing there, towering over him.

"Fuck!" Jonah laid a prosthetic hand over his heart. "What the hell, man?!"

"I have something important to say to you," Vykan swallowed. He was brave, he was brave, he didn't fear the impending rejection. "I hope it won't change the machinations of our relationship."

Jonah wasn't sure how to react so he ushered the Elite into his quarters and shut the door behind them.

"What the hell is this about?" Jonah snapped, quickly becoming annoyed. "My shuttle leaves soon, I gotta--"

"I love you."

Jonah froze. He didn't breathe, he didn't move, he swore his heart didn't even beat. He watched two golden eyes tracing the lines of his face. He saw the honesty bared in their reflection.

"Say that again." Jonah pressed, mouth slightly agape.

"I love you." Vykan replied with a little less confidence.

Jonah stepped forward, shrinking the space between them. He looked over the Elite, soaking in every piece of his visage. His scars, his eyes, his fiddling hands, his humble expression; all sunk into his brain, burnt in like a hot brand.

"One more time." 

"I love you."

His grip gave out and Jonah dropped his helmet. He moved in, wrapping his arms high around Vykan's chest. Tucking his head up into the crook of his neck, Jonah did his best to smother the Elite in a warm and secure hug. After a few moments of hesitation, Vykan returned the gesture, enveloping the Spartan in his long arms.

"Since when?" Jonah's voice was muffled but his voice was obviously shaking.

"Since our last day on HALO," Vykan curled himself tighter around him. "Since you saved my life."

Funny. It was the same for Jonah.

"113, report, shuttle leaves in 5."

Jonah peeled away, a thousand unspoken words swimming in his eyes. He cradled Vykan's face in his palms, delicately stroking a thumb along one of his mandibles.

"We can talk more when I get back, okay?" Jonah grinned.

"Of course," Vykan covered Jonah's hands with his own, leaning into the contact. "You will be glorious in victory."

"More like I'll be exhausted and cranky, but I appreciate the encouragement."

"113, report!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm on my way," Jonah snarked. He winked before he slipped on his helmet. "Alright, don't miss me too much."

Vykan stepped aside and watched Jonah jog off down the corridor. When the Spartan disappeared around the corner, he closed the door and sat down on Jonah's bunk. He petted the sheets absentmindedly and closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. When he laid down, he was asleep in mere moments, his conscience finally eased.

[captainkurosolaire]

Voice

🎵 Theme Music 🎵  Stationed close below decks in the cargo in time’s passage. He heard the jailer pirate in the room silence a whining smaller voice cased in innocence multiple captives often sold and blackmailed if their names held wealth. Otherwise often they were auctioned. Wasn’t pretty but customarily. Lowly off breath, “Ugh got t’ feed these brats sum scrap’s.” Heading directly to the rations that Captain was in. When he enclosed in and put hands on the sides of the barrel. The seeker pushed up with all his momentum the lid flying and clocking the jaw of the matey of The Betrayer. Who staggered back clutching his jaw but only was on a teeter. Kuro stumbled out throwing the beady fishes in pelts at the mastodon. The cage prisoners were baffled and silenced in a yelp they held their mouths. “Ahoy oaf. How ye do?” Tipping his hat playfully before prying off his coat, “Take my coat would ye? Show some hospitality.” The large coat thrown over towards the visage man stumbling forward his steps were confused every action happening in flashes, footsteps disordered like a clueless dancer. Grunting, “While ye! I’ll ring yer throat.” He’d fling the coat away but the diversion was made. Searching around his lard figure. He’d lose sight. The Feline with agility and acrobatically was using his tail swinging off the top of the ship’s railing. He’d pounce down and land on the back and buckle his new steed. His virile muscular arms ripping through the sleeves of his dressed shirt. As he put in a choke-hold, he was admitting outmatched against something more imposing and larger, but that didn’t mean the Captain didn’t know how to counter them. He’d keep the pressure in and begin lulling a tune, “Hush little hearty, don’t ye cry, Cap’n gonna tuck ye in. Steal ye a wet-dream.” The brute flailed relentlessly but was already fading his arms trying to reach back and grab a grip but the Captain’s head kept weaving. He kept holding the sleeper-hold and restricting the flow. Until the Brute dropped to a knee slowly showing signs of pacification. The alarms needed to be sounded but he was cleverly restricted from it far too late. The giant fell face-first in planting to a black-haze of unconsciousness. This Pirate wasn’t a butcher. He just needed to apply authority to the misguided and dismantle the boards that stood in his main objective’s way. Removing the possessions of the fallen he’d find the key’s chained and start whistling off in a song towards the prisoners to liberate them out. He’d pry off his torn shirt and just wear his coat-over. As the cages were slotted opened and brokered the slavers were stunned and puzzled by a clear-as-sight pirate turning against fellow. He looked no-good like the remaining. Surprisingly one of the captives was a proud Maelstrom who would stop people from all bailing out towards the roguish man. Recognizing who stood before him as he was the one implored to post the wanted bounty on this man’s head but it suddenly went cold believing they captured the legitimate thing and held the head to prove it even, the coin even collected. This Seeker he saw a ploy understandingly a trick to capture off-guard and further torture the deprived. “Stay away! This man has no solace or heart. I personally saw t’ post him on the board. He’s treacherous, dangerous. A encroached pirate. -- Mark the skies and abide the tides, we shall know victory. The Chief Admiral wouldn’t leave us or my crew. The Seas is Ours.”  He spoke against villainy with a Maelstrom salute representing his City-State and quoting half an infamous his pledged-ruler. Stunned and baffled, Captain’s brow furrowing. “No heart...? Now that hurts, oi...” He’d follow with a torrent and flooded pipe-bomb as he was singled out and instantly put into another picture. His story constantly never heard because of the gap in deemed law and order. Confronting and stepping closer to this spoken Sea-Wolf. “How much of that 'red coat' of yours is spilled from the blood of you standing down? Or you gunning down my kind. You claim to be pirates but you r’ nothing but jailers. Ironic, cages find you here. Want to whine and try contemplating why your little squadron didn't come in a wrath of flurry for your sake, simple your disposable.

You've got notion mindset that the weak is always prey and eaten and the strong, ‘blah, blah,’ always prevails.

News flash; The strong gets eaten by stronger. I've met lowly flowers who'd ye think are something ye can push over, walk over, but they're more unrelenting than th' tides each petal sharper than what’s tucked between your legs. They don't buckle and they're not to be underestimated.

Painting yourselves as pirates, don't make me laugh! -- It's the same thing, I've seen before... You aren't any better than the crew who done you in here. You're after complete control and conqueror. You wanna devour the free and you expect us to sit idly-by. You expect us to be docile. T’ hold fear over you and the gallows but we smile even on the chopping block and that pisses ya’ off preventing you from carnal release. You don't own these seas there are far more greater inhabitants than you or I, that are connected to them.

From the Civilizations buried under the Depths, Sea Witches, Sirens, every Sahagin or unexplored dweller. Essences of th’ sea, your waves will always clash against others in opposition.

Think you're superior that the coursed ways can get you out of this mess and all the innocents behind you? Here, lead like you always do with force."

He'd prime and pull the bolt to a musket from the unconscious pirate and forcing it upon the Maelstrom's arms. Pushing it into his torso hard. On instinct and duty the Redcoat showed his unwavering emotion and put the gun in aim to the tantalizer. He wasn't about to be antagonized by this prick.

Kuro walked back up seeing a delay in hesitation and putting it up to his forehead the muzzle fearlessly pressing in squeeze to his skull. He was talking with eyes of rage fill in blood soak emotion there was no love-lost for how he perceived. He believed himself in every solitary word, like a key. They ripped the hinder of shackles. To open thoughts of being open.

The Scoundrel continued, "Anyone has power behind the barrel. Anyone can be empowering by a solution that was created for out of sight, out of mind. These consciousness and floaters they don't affect those who can pull the trigger. You want to show me, you don't need me? That these fellow lads and lasses can be protected from ME by your Kind’s ideologies. -- Show me!"

The Sea Wolf who was refined let out a relenting shout at the taunter in his own forced emotion being shown his digit close to connecting with the trigger but he felt his thick leg tugged, "No!" A chiming smaller voice of his nephew interjected. "Don't Uncle!" How this even happened it was clear to the Seeker Captain. This excuse of a Maelstrom went already against code and went to attempt to save their blood alone. Most likely he wasn't granted any additional aid or back-up. Met with an order that was nothing but fit with chaos one-tracked.

It couldn't be expected any less or more. These 'Grand Companies' people took their titles they wore them. Portrayed as harbingers of good in the public that somehow their morale's were above. But they acted on impulses and greed. They had sprouting of corruption and a nest of them. It couldn't continuously be overlooked.

A gulp and stammering of the mighty Roegadyn vocal cords expended as he recoiled his hand off the trigger from the shakes. He couldn't justifiably do it. Like potent poison the Captain struck with a serum there was no cure from once it seeped into the veins.

The Captain threw up his arms to the sides a little disappointment in a pouting shrug. "Superb. Now when ye get out of here. Tell yer Chief Admiral and all the other jockeys in the Maelstrom, they concerned over the sea swallowing so much, let them know, I've got something they can swallow from me." He'd jab once more lastly in daringly mocking their slogan.

In his provoke though the Roe became dampened from the words but still let them propel himself forward in a charge, but instead he shoved the Miqo'te off to the side and whacked upside the head with every bit of force to the skull of a pirate who could've set the alarm in their patrol. Planting another pirate of The Betrayer down to the canvas.

He turned towards the downed smaller Captain who was on his arse. Extending his arm out the Maelstrom looked coldly with resentment, "When we're out of this, you're personally mine. I will serve you on a platter and be the one who personally mutes that mouth." The freedom fighter chuckled off breathe his toothed-grin flashing, "Aye. Like I tell my favored companions often, 'come'." He coated of sinister put a subtle and distasteful line in accepting the rivalry.

Reeled back to his feet by temporarily alliance and truce. "Very well, now we're passed this whole bickering like a couple. Ye fall behind, safeguard th' people. I'll handle all the rest." He relight his visage with determination towards the stairwell. Taking the step forward like always in his own code.

[Previous]

[kougetsuin]

redropping my tags. 

[pettyelves]

genesis; reprisal

[ terminus I  terminus II ]

“The only thing left... is ascending to godhood.” 

Time was moving around her, backwards.

Her hand was wrapped around a long blade, Kurel’s back rested against her chest. It was a lover’s embrace, somewhere deep in the belly of the maze. Under earth. Under water. At the center of some universe. 

Simultaneously, she was terrified and the most whole she’d ever felt. Out of body, looking down upon her fleshy shell about to free Kurel from his. Show him. Mark him. The first plunge of the blade when deep on his left side and he caught a sharp breath in his chest. Some small piece of her wanted to wake up, but she was too long detached. Control was already surrendered. This is his penance. You will bring him back to us.  Visions of the Dreameater’s gate ran like electricity through her veins, she felt the sand under her feet, the warmth of the sun at her back, the darkness just beyond the thick doors You are my servants. My will is your own. Seven times she stabbed him, a hole in Kurel for each of the keys to unlock the gate. A reminder not to forget their task, not to defy again. When her work was done on Kurel, she aimed the dagger over her own heart.  Finish it. 

The final stab kicked her into deep water, she was awake and in her own body. Eilithe knew she’d stumbled into control, into her own body, because of the immense pain from the wound on the right side of her chest. She got all of ten seconds to stare around at Dead Sun’s faces, who all looked as shocked as she was. Her lips parted and she thought to ask ‘How? How did I get here?’

By then the water was already rushing out of the room. 

The Sleeper stood in the center of an empty chamber. On one side, Reveria looked to be eviscerated. On the other, Kurel sat against the wall with seven stab wound. Despite being face down and soaking wet on the ground, she could feel the warmth of his back against her chest. Like she’d only just been behind Kurel, a cushion between him and the wall.

The rest of them were littered throughout the chamber, hacking and coughing. In pain and alive. “Finish it,” Eilithe choked out, tasting water and blood. This time, when her body moved on its own it was in concert with whatever rang in her head. 

A piece of you must be left here. A price for power. Part of you must die again. 

The light in her right eye dimmed as Saakes prediction circled around. Another bit of the light inside her, given over to the feast. When another piece of her soul was taken, the offering accepted, she heard the tear in the already thinning veil. Starving souls, clawing back to the world of the living.  The Sleeper was sundered in a hail of Dead Sun's final attacks, ripped, shot, shredded, burned, and looping in infinite pain. His very being began to unravel--unfurling and undoing until  he was practically the size of a man reaching for the darkness above him. "...Father.. of sleep...Son.. of time...I ..have failed." He burst a final time. It rained ash. 

His end is only the beginning.

Searing pain tore through her right arm, her eyes opened and were dim on the night’s sky. The only thing that beat a sunset in Dead Sun, was the sky on a New Moon. Air wheezed from her lips. 

“Eilithe? Eilithe can you hear me?” The Doctor’s voice sounded like it was in water, her visage just as unclear. She was moving, carried. “Eilithe do you know where you are?” She asked before another chimed in. “She’s loosing a lot of blood..from a lot of places. At least four of them need surgery.” Odellise had her hands pressed into Eilithe’s chest, yet she was slowly loosing feeling. Her eyes flickered shut. “I need you to stay awake. Eyes on me. Eilithe. Eyes on me.” 

Gaps in memory were filled with flashes. The repeated stabbing of her husband, the chains. The water. Mairdrin. What had she done to Mairdrin. 

A spew of swallowed blood spat up from her chest and she breathed in. Her eyes lulled open and she tried to move but could only manage her head. The medical facility in Dead Sun hadn’t been this packed since the last war. Through the spaces between bodies of surgeons, she caught the blurred images of Reveria first.  “Clamp that. Clamp it...Fuck! Get a shadow priestess. Now. Go!” Odellise’s fingers were cold inside of Eilithe’s body. She inhaled and choked out when her head turned the other way. There lie Kurel, out cold and being treated. She knew he was alive merely because she still breathed within him. 

Another stretch of unconsciousness, another flash of what she had done. The inability to discern what had happened and what yet would. 

The next time she stirred, Eilithe was propped against a pillow with heaviness to her. On her right, Reveria --guarded by a sleeping An’Set. On her left, Kurel sleeping as close to peaceful as he got. With only her eyes, she looked around to account for every single one of them. Against the odds, they had lived.

If not for the overwhelming sense they had traded one evil for another, Eilithe might have let herself feel just a little bit lighter. 

@deadsunharbor @revthepunchbear @kurel-andiel @xavier-sunshadow @velerodra-valesinger @liora-tarinval​ @peterwayland​

[anuschkalova]

Salvation (Jeremiah x Reader)

Requested by anon: can i request a post-spray (crazy?) jeremiah x reader based on the song chills by down with webster?

Pairing: Jeremiah Valeska x Reader

Word count: 1,878

The dark zone was comparable to a tumor - destructive and toxic, with a insatiable appetite for the innocents. Growing day by day, spreading the deadly madness by infected minds, Gotham was helpless against Jeremiah’s power.

The lost connection to mainland had turned the city into a place of pure chaos. It was satisfaction that ran through your veins as you stood on the church’s roof and admired the city’s downfall. 

Pitch-black smoke, echos of gunfire mixed with the desperate screams of murder victims - the combination was enchanting. The GCPD has lost the fight, Gotham had finally fallen and was now ready to be reborn. 

You had joined Jeremiah shortly after a burglar cut your parents’s throats one night. While you sat in the waiting area of the GCPD, a rather disinterested looking officer approached you. 

„Y/N Y/L/N?“, he called your name and you jumped up. 

„That’s me! I’m here because of the murder of…-“ But the man just waved his hand to hush you. 

„Yeah, I know. Well…“, he said and briefly looked over the file in his hands, „… we found no fingerprints at the crime scene. Case closed.“ His monotone words hurt like a resounding slap.

„There were no police officers at my home, no one investigated the bedroom and-!“ 

„Listen up, doll. We have a lot of cases to handle that are way more important, okay?“

More important. That are way more important. 

Two people had died, honest citizens of Gotham City that had paid their rents in time and worked in voluntary capacity. 

It was the third time that week in which your case got denied. 

You wanted to scream, to push and punch the emotionless visage of the man in front of you that showed zero sympathy nor dedication. 

Anger spread across your body like a wildfire, making your cheeks burn and your heart beat twice its regular pace. You were sure that lava had replaced your blood and just as you raised your burning hand to hit the officer, another one screamed intently: „That maniac is in front of the building! Jeremiah Valeska!“

All of a sudden, everybody left their desks to storm outside. And even the bored office seemed tensed as he passed you. Without thinking twice, you followed the crowed to spot a group of people that stood erectly in line, all armored like soldiers. Their faces painted in white, they firmly yelled „Jeremiah! Jeremiah!“ after the man in front of them had spoken to Harvey Bullock. 

I fell, like soldiers on the front line Under your spell, in the magic you inspire Every farewell, sets me on fire And I find it all so funny, Like a joke without a punchline

It was your first encounter with Jeremiah, a decree of fate that would change your life. 

He then pushed the button in his hand and the Gotham Clock Tower, the solid huge building that stood there since your birth and long before, exploded and collapsed like a house of cards. And as the bricks and steel case crumbled down, your faith in justice did as well. 

Gotham deserved it. 

This rotten city deserved every god damn bloody attack to force its corrupt law on their knees. A smile formed on your lips that day. 

You climbed down the roof and entered the prayer room through the broken window. Countless corpses covered the floor, stacked over one another, but you walked over the meaty pile recklessly, lighting one of the many shrines. 

„How virtuous“, Jeremiah’s voice resonated from behind and you shuddered. The little flame of the candle danced raptly as his foot steps approached you. His hand touched your cheek to wipe away the blood stains of your last victim. Jeremiah let his gaze casually glide over the dead bodies before he spoke. 

„You take your job very seriously“, he remarked and you nodded. 

„Of course. Loyalty is best shown with a gun pressed against your head“, you purred, the memory made your eyes sparkle in excitement. 

Jeremiah copied your smirk and while he rewarded you with his deep intense stare, he licked the blood off of his fingers.

My heart's racing, trying to catch up to you, The light that you let off is gold I can't shake this feeling it fills the room, These chills didn't come from the cold They came from you They came from you

With his hand around your waist, Jeremiah guided you down to the underground where his adherents, the ones you had chosen to be worthy, carried heavy boulders. The tunnel was doing great and you felt proud. 

Jeremiah inspected the progress while you admired his stern face. His pale skin and sharp jawline lured you into the illusion that his head was made of marble. And like stone, his skin felt cold as you brushed your fingertips against his cheek. 

„Do you need more workers?“, you asked. 

Jeremiah, who elegantly turned around to face you, greeted you with hungry eyes. „Oh, I need so much more…“

Whatever it was, you were more than willing to get it for him, because he was the one who had opened the door of your cage. Who’d opened your eyes. 

Now, you were finally free like a bird, spreading your black wings to fulfill his visions.

Suddenly, a piercing scream echoed from the tunnel and a man walked out with a limp. The fabric of his left pant leg was soaked in blood and a hole exposed the ugly flesh wound.

„Help me!“, the man whined and fell on his knees, screaming again. 

He then crawled over to Jeremiah and grabbed his ankles. The man’s dirty hands stained the pearly-white socks, but Jeremiah didn’t move an inch. 

Instead, he raised his chin to shot you a glance, one that hit like a whiplash and caressed you feathery, all at the same time. Automatically, you knew what to do as you pulled out the gun, a xx, and pressed it against the man’s forehead.

„Please“, he tried to swayed you, but it was too late. The bullet bored itself through his brain and killed the poor man instantly. His lifeless body collapsed on the ground and Jeremiah stepped over it, releasing a deep theatrical sigh. 

„What a shame.“ 

All the workers who’d witnessed the incident became silent. The air felt heavier than before, the smell of death and fear lingered around and no one dared to say a word. They were afraid - the craziness in your pretty eyes was reason enough to shut their mouths. 

„Get him to the stove“, Jeremiah commanded and two men put the dead body in a wheelbarrow to get him out. By now, this had become a regular procedure. 

„Inability is not acceptable“, Jeremiah spoke up, pacing slowly forward to meet the tensed faces of his workers. „We have a strict schedule and incompetence, my dear fellows, will be punished.“

I hear your voice like an ocean, Washing over me I'm frozen stuck in time. And I swear, I never seen the likes of you before. And I promise this ain't difficult, doesn't happen every night

His voice was like a drug. Like sweet wine, you would savor every drop of it, capture every single vibration. 

While every men within whose stonewalls met Jeremiah’s face with horror, it was pure admiration that he spotted on you. True love hidden in your eyes that put an evil smirk on Jeremiah’s lips. 

Lips that rewarded your loyalty at that night. 

Gotham might had become a place like hell, but every time your lover’s lips touched your skin - it was heaven. 

„Tell me…“, Jeremiah whispered against your naked stomach and you shuddered. 

„How far would you go for me?“

The question was too easy. „I would do everything for you“, you replied honestly, closing your eyes and sighing in pleasure as his cold hands caressed your sides. Every touch ignited a little fire on your already burning skin. 

„Good“, he said. „And would you die for me?“

This time, you opened your eyes to look at Jeremiah. He was sitting next to you on the bed, his green eyes gleaming in the dark as he stared at you.

„Yes.“

A small sound, comparable to a moan, escaped his throat. 

„Proof it.“ His command caught you off guard. In the next moment, you sat up straight,  covering your naked upper body with the old bedcover. 

„Don’t be afraid, dear…“, he hissed and leaned closer. His pupils were dilated, sparkling black in the weak moonlight. 

Suddenly, you were his prey; being trapped by his towering figure and intense glare. It made you feel helpless, small, vulnerable and so much aroused.

Before you could react, Jeremiah sneaked his right hand under his jacket and the slowly revealed gun took your breath away. 

„Take it“, he softly instructed and you obeyed. With the gun in your hand, Jeremiah let his eyes absorb the delicious sight in front if him - a sight for the gods. Your exquisite obedience befuddled his mind better than any expensive whisky. 

You raised the gun, the sweet weight of it sending chills down your spine. The closer you guided the weapon to your head, the wider Jeremiah’s smile grew - until it turned into an evil grin.

Soon, the gun’s muzzle was pressed against your temple and you waited for his next words. For his final order.

„Look at you…“, Jeremiah said, running his hand through your hair. He touched your cheek and a muffled moan escaped your lips as his thumb entered your mouth forcefully. Without missing a beat, you stared to suck. 

„. so good.“ His praise fueled your devotedness. Sucking harder, you closed your eyes and found your inner peace. Your life belonged to Jeremiah. 

You knew, the moment you’d taken his hand the first time you saw him in front of the GCPD building, that you’d sold your soul to the devil. He saved you. He made you. He owned you. 

A quiet chuckle caused your eyes to open. Jeremiah was ecstatic. His exaggerated smile looked painful, but it was the dripping madness in his striking green orbs that made you swallow.

„Tick tock“, he cut the silence and pulled his thumb out of your mouth. „It’s time, little bird.“

You nodded.

He watched intensely as you cocked the gun; the clicking noise released an overdoses of adrenaline in your veins. Your heart was beating like crazy as you hung on Jeremiah’s every word.

Then, his features turned dead serious. He slowly put his head back, taking a deep breath. It looked like he prayed, muttering unintelligible words under god’s roof. But he didn’t.

No, because god didn’t exist. Gotham was bleeding - criminals ran the city, people had no homes and died of hunger. The only god that watched over this lost city was Jeremiah himself.

Seconds passed, but you waited patiently - until he lowered his head again to look at you.

„Do it“, he whispered and you gulped.

„Do it!“, Jeremiah yelled.

Your eyes widened, hand shaking as you realized that there was no going back. With blood running cold, you finally pulled the trigger.

Bang.

My world came crashing down right under you, These chills didn't come from the cold, They came from you.

[hellopastelpukepink]

Arkham Knight Scarecrow X Reader

My inbox ate the request so I couldn’t respond to it. Sorry, I totally messed up on the times I said I would post this. I said Friday the 19th rather than 18th but either way, I’m two days late. Got really behind helping a friend move but excuses aside here is the story. I hope it’s to your liking. I got really high when I wrote it so sorry if it’s a bit incoherent.  ---

               There was recognition in his pale eyes that stared over you now, there was also hate there, and you, breathing heavy, braced yourself for the worst.

               “Why have you come here?” His voice rasped.

               You were already shaking. You knew who this was, former Dr. Jonathan Crane now with the moniker Scarecrow. He was a different man now. When you’d met him, sure he’d been malicious, but there had always been a hint a playfulness before, now he was stoic, dangerous, and downright terrifying.

               “Why are you here?” He asked again, and it was something you couldn’t answer. You were just at the wrong place at the wrong time. That was the truth. But you knew he recognized and remembered you. You had been an intern at Arkham Asylum not too long ago.

               “I recall something,” He said, circling you, “Weren’t you drawn to me?”

               You blinked. Sure, you thought he was attractive when you first met him, but that was then. He was wholly disfigured and hiding behind a mask now, his very visage terrifying you to the core.

               “I thought you were a very, brilliant man.” You said, voice shaking.

               “I know you were interested,” He said, stopping to stare into your eyes, “Do I disgust you now?” He leaned into your ear whispering, “Are you afraid of me?”

               You were visibly shaking, tears welling in your eyes. You knew the sort of things he’d done, the experiments he’d run. The fear toxin was something you weren’t prepared to deal with, you were already scared, and you couldn’t fathom your fears being amplified. You were also aware that a lethal dose would induce a heart attack, what a way to go, literally being scared to death.

               Scarecrow was still leaned in, his face turned to you, the burlap of his mask scratching you, his breath hot on your skin.

               “I-I’m terrified of what you’ll do to me.” You admitted, hoping to find some compassion somewhere in that dark heart of his.

               “Good.” He rasped, his hand cupped your face, turning it towards him, “You’re smart to be afraid.” And then he leaned into your neck, inhaling the scent of your skin, “I’ve always been fond of you.” He said, “You were a ray of light in that dreary place, Arkham Asylum…” He said the last part as if it were poison to his lips.

               You weren’t sure if you heard him correctly, but then you felt his breath into the crook of your neck, felt his teeth graze and clamp down on a particular spot that made you weak.

               A startled yelp escaped you, and he pulled you in tighter, his mouth working to the bottom of your jaw, you swore he’d kiss you in this instance if he could.

               “Tell me, what are your fears, child?”

               “You.” You breathed, and you could feel him against your thigh, growing harder with every question. He was getting off on this, being aroused by the terror he was instilling in you. You decided to play along, anything to keep him from spraying you with that fear toxin. “I’m so afraid of you, doctor.”

               “Doctor?” He chuckled, his hands running up your back, you could feel the needles of his gauntlet through your clothes, and you knew he wanted you to feel them, wanted you to know he was in control. You yipped against him and let the tears flow, hands at his chest, gripping tight at his coat.

               “Please,” You pleaded pathetically, “I was good to you, please, don’t hurt me.”

               “The little intern at Arkham asylum, all alone now.” He taunted. He was savoring every moment of this, and you knew he was stretching this out like a rubberband, waiting to get you to a point where you’d snap, where you’d be at your peak, and then he’d spray you with the fear toxin. He’d watch you writhe and scream, watch you die.

               You cupped him through his trousers, drawing a surprised growl out of him.

               “What are you doing?”

               You said nothing, maintaining eye contact as you stroked sensually, your breath hitching along with his.

               “Do you want more?”

               He growled. He knew what you were doing and was aware this was all a diversion for the inevitable, but he was also curious about this. Nobody had ever tried this before.

               “Doctor Jonathan Crane,” You purred against his mouth, “I did like you when I first met you,” That was the truth, “I’d been so moved by your work. You’re so intelligent and talented.” You whispered, still stroking along the length of his trousers. “I fantasized about you a lot.” That was a lie.

               But you could tell he was eating this all up, you don’t think he’d ever had anyone show any kind of interest in him, let alone in a sexual nature, especially now.

               “What would you do? When you thought of me?”

               You leaned in closer, rubbing your head against his chest, “I would get so wet, doctor. I wanted you so badly.” You said through pained breaths, strangely enough the more you spoke, the more you began to believe it yourself. Your pussy was getting wet, and you were starting to ache with need. “I wanted to get pounded by you, doctor. Every night I thought of you, thought of getting violently fucked by you. I want you, in me, doctor.” You sighed, reaching down your skirt, feeling your soaking wet panties, “I need you. Please, please fuck me. Treat me like your fucking plaything, doctor.”

               You thought that would be enough to do him in, but he remained remarkably stoic, though you could tell his temperament had changed, you knew he was aroused.

               “Do you think I’m stupid enough to believe you?” He asked, and your heart sunk to the center of the Earth. His left hand traced along the curves of your body, to your sopping wet pussy, he rubbed you, eliciting a soft moan from you. “You’re so beautiful. I loathe it.” He admitted, pulling aside your panties and slipping two fingers into your aching cunt, “Girls like you were always first to tease me, bully me. I know the sort of games you play.” He said this all as he continued to finger you.

               You were moaning against him, your pussy clamping tight against his fingers, “Jonathan!” You pleaded, “Please, believe me. I-I want you.”

               “Lies. Like a siren beckoning men in for the slaughter. You’re no different.”

               “Doctor,” You breathed, “I-it feels so good, though. I w-want more.”

               “Feeble little harlot.” He growled in your ear, “So desperate to live. Willing to give her body to me.”

               “Anything for you, doctor.” You moaned, wrapping your arms around him, lifting your leg to give him easier access, “I’m all yours.”

               He pulled away from you and turned you around, slamming you down against a console, those needles of his gauntlet tracing over your back. Shivers ran down your spine as you waited in anticipation. You heard him unfastening his trousers and soon felt him prodding at your wet heat. You arched your back, felt his length against your folds, teasing him, coaxing him to continue. His cock parted your folds and slipped in with ease. You mewled as you felt him completely fill you up, and in turn, you heard him sigh, taking a moment to collect himself.

               “How do I feel?” You asked.

               “So warm,” He said, as he plunged into you, “So warm and tight.” He groaned as he continued to pound into you. A sound you were surprised to hear.

               He was rough and relentless but was careful not to accidentally stab you with the needles. You bucked against him, moaning loudly as you tried to milk his cock for what it was worth.

               “Doctor, please, please cum in me.” You mumbled.

               He seemed surprised by your demand, but rather than give in he continued to fuck you. Your hair obscured your vision, your face hot from lust, you sighed and mewled beneath him, begging that he continue. This went on for quite some time. Just the sound of skin on skin and your ragged breaths in that tight room.

               He pulled away from you, and you stood and turned to face him before he pushed you back down against that console, and you parted your legs allowing him entrance once again. This time, however, he raised his gauntlet and sprayed you with the fear toxin.

               Adrenaline coursed through your veins when you realized what he’d done, and suddenly fearsome visions came to your attention. Surrounding you, taunting you, your mind was racing so quickly, and you could feel him, Scarecrow, pounding into you as voices laughed and teased. Your heart was racing so fast you thought it’d explode.

               “Think this was my first time?” Scarecrow asked, voice deeper like a monster, his visage more terrifying now, you shut your eyes, but the voices were screaming in your ears, the room spinning. You let out a scream, wishing for it to all stop. You could feel that you were still getting fucked senseless, though. Your cries pleasing the Scarecrow.

               He was merciless after all, and you were a fool to try and seduce him, to begin with. Your mind was overloaded and before you realized your vision faded to black as you fainted.

               Scarecrow stopped and tilted his head to look you over. You were still breathing. Good. He pulled out and dressed before picking you up. You’d make an exceptional little experiment for the future. This had, after all, been a lovely experience for him.