#Gelid Hunger

[wickedzeevyln]

Sentinel

I fear for her when she walks the heartless streets with painted eyes on the walls.Gelid hunger swallows the night,creatures that abseiled the abyss, remerge from their den,with the scent of skin and perfume on their snouts.For some odd reason, when a river of whiskey courses through their wintry veins,they forget that at home they were raised by a loving mother,now they howl in packs.I cringe at…

[rawcalamity]

From the leviathans of vast stature to the ones feeble and numb; all succumb before the hunger of diving vultures. Piercing the skies of gelid seas are those who hail from ice. Woolly seals wear a title of deceit, for their kin stray far from the graceful mammals of our oceans. These hellish creatures revel in their carnage, with dozens of clawed tendrils reaching from their gnarled maws begging to cleave flesh. Although small and nimble, you are a fool to judge the capabilities of these predators. All who cross paths with a murder are mercilessly torn asunder from muscle to bone. Boasting a powerful muscular structure, woolly seals find ease in wrestling the strongest of leviathans into submission. These persistent animals are reliant on their numbers, overwhelming prey with the sheer volume of the murder whipping lacerations into their flesh. Fending off a murder is a futile pursuit, for a leviathan will quickly exhaust itself as it thrashes about to no avail. Fleeing yields no promise either, as woolly seals will leech onto their prey via puncturing the body with their prickly pectoral flippers; ensuring that the animal is secured tightly to its victim. Deceased leviathans are left to wither away in a crimson sea painted by their canvas. Woolly seals garnered their name from extraterrestrial human researchers, who upon first discovering the species noted how vaguely reminiscent of earthly pinnipeds they were—only, these creatures donned a thick hydrodynamic coat likened to wool. While their pelage serves to maintain a streamlined form when diving, it is also vital to maintaining body heat against the unforgiving cold. Because the frame of a woolly seal is so muscular, they lack insulating blubber found in most marine mammals. To compensate, their coats double as a highly effective insulator. Unlike true pinnipeds, the hind flippers of a woolly seal fuse to form a more tail fluke-like shape. This enhances the animals swim speed, while also reducing land mobility. As a result, woolly seals are remarkably vulnerable when lounging on sea ice. As such, woolly seals prefer to remain close to water.

[justblades]

⌕ QUARTET'S TUNES, 18+

⟢ DAY 4 OF SPECIAL 2K EVENT — your boyfriend suffers from erectile dysfunction . . . he thinks of a solution to treat it, by having you preyed on by his two olden friends

⟢ CHARACTERS : blade, dan heng & jing yuan x afab!reader WC : 1.8k

⟢ WARNINGS : (EX)PLICIT, MDNI. 4some, manhandling, degrading, multiple penetration, aphrodisiacs, spitting, dacryphilia, filming, cuckolding.

utopia - a place you never thought you'd attain from your mere hands alone whenever feelings of loneliness creep up to your soul, pulling you back to square one with weight heavy in one foot. not until you crossed paths with a certain individual who appeared too cold than he may seem, his aura exudes of a gelid ice and a chilly gust of wind all at the same.

threads of fate are adamantine, each strand, each fiber shows a dedicated ending for every single being. although not halfway done, you've come to learn dan heng's sharp corners and the varying slopes of his soul. how he likes for things to be done, how he prefers to bask in solitude when those moments come. that he is not indeed cold like how he is usually perceived. as a way to delve deeper in the ocean of his depths, your vulnerable self mooring at dan heng's byline with your name written on it - it felt as if it was meant to be.

amidst the countless times he buried his seed deep into your walls, in spite of the scratch marks besmirching his pale, supple skin, there came a time he was unable to do it with you anymore. of course, sex isn't everything but it sends a pang of pain for dan heng more as he hungers for your body day by day; wanting to relive those lustful moments again, feeling each others' sweat mix with juices of arousal coating your thighs and dan heng's fingers.

and finally, he reached his limit. perhaps all he needed is some good old pushing buttons for his erection to switch back on. he contacts two olden friends, at this point, one was a mortal enemy and the other an archaic comrade. it was an eccentric situation that no one has ever experienced before. having your lover banged by two acquaintances right before your naked eyes is not an idea someone sane is capable of thinking of. perhaps it's the hunger burning dan heng's patience and blind hope that made him resort to these methods. as much as he longed, the twice you yearned.

a red tie slithers against your wrists, pinned above your head with a final twist to finish the binding. a makeshift of kinky shackles, a tantalizing sight to grace your partner's vision as two tall men stood before your restrained stature. the silver haired at your left and the indigo head at your right. they were polar opposites for a boastful smile plays on jing yuan's lips while the former appeared to have a scornful look imprinted on his.

nonetheless, jing yuan starts it with a white circular pill nestled on his wet tongue, stuck out just enough for you to see. "let's treat your lover's dysfunction then." he says as his sultry lips crash onto yours with fervor, eyes shut, fingertips trailing from your chin on the way to the back of your head, lolling you closer to him than before.

your tongues tangle in sync, taking turns as you begin to feel more of his liquids pour onto your mouth like a small cup, overflowing, escaping past your margins that reached to a point whereas you're drooling. a soft mewl comes undone, satisfying the general. the pill that slipped out of your mind travels way down to your system, its ingredients quickly pool inside your body waiting for its effects to manifest.

slightly glancing at the other male all the while you were being smothered by open mouthed kisses, "i'll take everything away from you." the remark stirs confusion, he sneers and proceeds to suckle on your neck's sweet spot. your body jolts at the unfamiliar sensation of an unknown's lips adorn your complexion, "i'll make you mine." his voice softens and it just all made sense.

dan heng feels his heartstrings rupture, jealousy seethes even though he may not show it. his brows lightly knit and focus at the matter in hand, he needs this - so he can finally revel in the delights of your body. jing yuan finally withdraws from your lips, sharing a gaze of lust and excitement with you. he only pauses for a moment and proceeds to scoot closer to your body, getting behind you as his arm lock around your neck, his lower clothing becoming tighter and more painful to bear.

this position felt rather embarrassing; you're exposed in front of your lover. the cherry on top of it was blade unbuckling his tan and jade green belt, slacks of grey shades quickly fall down to his feet - followed suit by another act of stripping, this time, it was you being undressed by him. he rips all of your clothes open, veins popping as he exerts minimalist strength: your body jerks in exchange as you get to feel his hot breath caress the plane of your chest.

jing yuan swiftly removes his too, cock springing free now at its full glory judging from how it twitches against your lower back, aching for some friction. struggling to keep sight of the two males preparing themselves to bathe in ecstasy with you, your body suddenly falls lethargic and the atmosphere's temperature felt rather parching.

"dan heng— make sure you watch all of this." jing yuan comments and lubricates your slit with a concoction of his streaming beads of arousal mixed with yours. muddy white sopping out of your folds, you were more than turned on, brought about by the drug you ingested earlier. you blink repetitiously once you start to feel something hard protrude your hole, it pulsates with desire and felt feverishly hot.

you gasp weakly, an opportunity for the other male to slip his dick in your mouth abruptly. "don't forget about me." he bucks his pelvis forward, forcing you to bob your head up and down; not giving you enough time to adjust and grow accustomed to his immense size. blade's scowl slowly ceases, eyes fixated how you react to being gagged by his cock.

jing yuan can feel a little competitive at times, a part of his playful nature. he thrusts into your cunt with ease thankful to the lube that most of your pussy provided, your velvet walls clamping around his girth. sloppy noises, mewls and grunts all bounce off the four walls of your own home. dan heng remains fixed on his place, his heart threatens to beat faster and faster, hearing your satisfied moans merited from anything other than his dick undoubtedly vexes him deep down.

it wasn't even enough of a foreplay earlier and it's just the beginning - yet your mind already starts to feel point blank, unable to grasp coherence and rationality the more you are stimulated by both the males simultaneously. unable to protest as blade's cock fills your mouth, prohibited to make any of the male stop as you were bound by the crimson string tied on your wrists.

jing yuan's guttural moans chime into your ears, bucking his hips in an animalistic speed while you got noticeably louder in mewls and squirms under the both of their touches. "i-i-" muffled by the constant bounce of blade's tip at the back of your throat, tears start to well up in your eyes, the depths reflecting the navy haired's face of satisfaction seeing you cry from how big he was.

"i was never aware you had a whore like this, dan heng. you're quite a lucky man, getting to see this any day you'd like." the male snidely remarks, sarcastically wiping your tears away with his bandaged hand. "weep for me more." he adds, a rivulet of his gathered spit drop down to your lips.

dan heng feels his trousers tighten all of a sudden. he glimpses down, seeing something indeed out of the ordinary. he was growing an erection, each rush of his blood to the flushed tip of his cock - he could feel everything course in his system. his breathing deepens, gunmetal eyes widened.

the silver haired doesn't let himself be outshined by his olden friend, "no can do. you'll sing for me more." he says and slows down his pace, only to give you long deep strokes of his as your walls continue to coil around him. it was a teasing act, but the thirst for more immediately gets quenched when he thrusts into you deeper than before, his balls lightly slap against the plush of your ass. you throw your head back, unknowingly seeking solace in jing yuan's broad shoulders while your mouth was still full of blade's girth.

you try to catch your breath with heavy pants, feeling sticky in every nook and cranny of your body. they were both being intense: more than what you could handle. dan heng never made you feel these sensations before, unsure if it's a good thing or not. whilst blade finally pulls his cock out— he clicks his tongue in annoyance and tangles his fingers on your hair, crouching down to your level. he looks you in the eyes piercing through your torpid ones, threatening to fall into a slumber anytime. suddenly, a hand stops him from handling you harshly any further, he looks up to see it was no other than a despised enemy. "you're finally back in action." a crease between dan heng's brows form, teeth gritting from how rough blade was towards you. well, what else did he expect? if you secretly liked it, then the male suppose there's nothing wrong happening.

"simmer down." blade comments as he finally removes the ties on your wrists, giving your arms leeway to rest at last. but it doesn't prolong as his calloused, veiny hands, guide your right hand to wrap around dan heng's throbbing cock while the free one was coiled around blade's. unable to register anything now, your body weight doubles down, feeling heavier than ever. something, however is amiss. pure bliss snakes up to your abdomen, feeling more desirous than ever— as it unfolds, your hands pump the two dicks on their own, granting you groans bubbling from both's mouths.

you were uncertain if this is what an aphrodisiac does to a person's consciousness. but then, with bleary vision, you make out the familiar object once again. this time, it was from blade's slick tongue twirling in your wet cavern, he was rough and deep, not leaving any corners unchecked with his tongue's tip.

again, it descends to your system, dissolving into glitters of substance that fuels your libido levels - willingly resuming to stroke two dicks while another one continuously ravage your walls, the general feeling himself catch the bliss of release anytime soon. "it's good to see you've finally recovered dan heng . . . but you have to know we won't be at your disposal the next time this happens and this is where my suggestion comes in."

the ebony haired struggles to whip his head to jing yuan's direction, a stifled satisfied expression carved on his face. "we should immortalize this." dan heng always understands jing yuan's point— and there they come into a quick agreement especially now that their cocks are twitching in unison, yearning for more. with a swift setting of a camera right in front of your lustful bodies, it starts to record every single detail unraveling as carnal desire inebriate the quartet.

they took turns in which who has the privilege to power piston into your cunt, while the other jacks himself off, letting his cum spring free in strings, embellishing your skin with numerous diagonals. another idea rises later on, putting it into action as two of them pleasure the both of your entrances, while the remaining person thrusts his cock deep inside your mouth once again. your body drifts into cloud nine, having three men thrill you with their own dicks at the same time wasn't so bad after all - and most importantly, your lover's dysfunction is finally treated.

more juices of orgasm sprawl out of your slit, pussy continues to spasm up to no end, knees trembling— how many times has it been since you came tonight? even the men themselves already lost count. all they're aware of is the four of you are having a good time, each male having their own charm that had your heart in a chokehold of lust.

my masterlist !

[chocochipbiscuit]

🌟🌟😌

Darkness held a physical weight in the Deep Roads. A compression of earth and time that turned Leliana’s thoughts gelid. Morrigan’s power stretched like a fathomless sky. Her form shimmered, shapeless and pluripotent, when they fought the broodmother; two monsters, night and starstuff against flesh and meat. “You’re not human,” Leliana said, when they had cleansed themselves of blood and gore, when it was simply her and Morrigan in what little space they might call privacy in the thin walls of their tent. Morrigan smiled, and her eyes blazed gold. Gold and glittering, two fixed marks by which Leliana might navigate her steps. “I never claimed to be.” “What are you?” “Flemeth’s daughter,” said the being that had walked in human-shape across dawn’s threshold. That had called herself Morrigan, and if Leliana could believe in choices—if she could truly believe that one’s past mattered less than what one did, if she could truly wash her own hands and still clasp them in prayer—then surely she could believe that this creature had chosen to be Morrigan.

(from Prayers in the Dark)

Look...I have a love/hate thing for Lovecraft and his influence on eldritch horror, so I'm constantly drawn to these portrayals of otherworldly beings beyond mortal comprehension and wondering if they're truly so terrifying if you're already used to feeling small or powerless, if you already took it for granted that the world is bigger than you can ever know, and also...

Well. Morrigan is the mysterious daughter of an ageless being, I think she'd fit right in! And Leliana has that special blend of certainty in her faith, being good at (and enjoying being good at) violence, and a sort of hunger to be recognized as 'special,' as being marked as 'other' while also desperately trying on different masks to become what she needs to be, while still uncertain at her core of who she actually is.

Which I think makes for a very fun contrast with Morrigan in this fic, the fact that Leliana can recognize Morrigan's unknowable depths (and can love them, just as she loves the Maker's mysteries) but also feel like it grants her a particular understanding of Morrigan which is both more true than Morrigan would like to think and less true than Leliana would like to imagine.

It's also about the power of choices: if Leliana can change her path, turning from bard to laysister and now (hopefully) hero's companion, then surely Morrigan could have chosen to become this helpful ally instead of 'just' mysterious being that's indifferent to humanity at best.

I have a soft spot for this fic and if it hadn't been for exchange constraints, I think it would have been fun to explore it further. :')

Thank you for asking, I had fun!

(Director's cut from this ask meme!)

[lordofthestrix]

“I’m here”

because he won't miss the chance to see him die and make sure he's gone 😅 but also because it's kind of weird to watch his first 'child' die.

My Muse is dying. Send me “I'm here” to hear their last words to yours It was the cold that surprised him. Pain and agony he had endured before. That gelid phantom predicted a different fate. Like a haunting mantle, extinguishing the flame of magic that had kept him alive all these centuries. Until his very bones ignited in the freezing call for departure. He would always combat the unavoidable in merciless hunger. But what is a man to do when the fire of his existence painfully dwindled before his eyes? When no outburst of will or passion would rescue him from the darkness? He didn't respond at first. Perhaps thinking the other one more mirage of the wintry demand for egress. When he did, his voice arrived coarse and mournful. Every word seemed to cost a silent jolt of suffering. "It took you long enough." A neck that resented its service in aching torture turned to see him. The end was never supposed to arrive. But if it ever did, it was meant to be Elijah. His role should have been the one of murderer, not witness. Still, he found the bittersweet echo of seeing him finding new, thrilling ways to disappoint him even now harmonious enough. There were words to be spoken. Plenty. Ink still in the inkwell. But there wouldn't be revelations, secrets nor proclaiming farewells today. The swaying pendulum of his life wouldn't permit them. He observed it all and he spoke nothing of it. Nothing but the most inescapable truth. "...I was right. When I saved those you deemed fit to die for your convenience. Those you forced into the wildness to be sacrificed. I was in the right. Aya. The Strix...Me." The convulsion was sudden and violent. The visiting hand from the grave that proclaimed his time was over. Life abandoning his body. Sooner. Much sooner than expected. Now. Tristan roared. Savagely. One final time. One final time scarlet tinted his eyes. One final time fangs shattered the masquerade and black veins visited the eyes of a demon. Perhaps even a vampire had the power to remain in this world out of indomitable stubbornness. If only for an additional minute. "Tell her I love her. You won't deny the last will of a dying man, will you? Make sure Aurora knows. Tell her she was...Everything." The stumbling shadow of a soon to be corpse forced his way to him. "As for you...You are not forgiven." The snowstorm was raging within. He had to claim his shoulder for support. "To be blood of your blood. It was my torment. My hell...And my honor." One last time, eyes of blue met eyes of brown. Perhaps he would murder him for this. Either way the hourglass was empty. "Goodbye, old friend." Everything that was left of his strength and more burned in his final move. He was himself. He descended upon him. Fangs pierced the skin of Elijah's neck. And he drank the blood that once gave him eternity. There was no opportunity for reaction. By the time Elijah's blood traveled down his throat, Tristan de Martel was already dead. Still cold. @deceptivemorals

[nientelacrimeperme]

"Questo è il primo bacio di cui siamo entrambi consapevoli. Nessuno dei due è obnubilato dal dolore o dalla malattia o è privo di sensi. Le nostre labbra non bruciano per la febbre, né sono gelide come il ghiaccio. Questo è il primo bacio che mi suscita una vera emozione. Caldo e strano. Questo è il primo bacio che me ne fa desiderare un altro."

Hunger Games, Suzanne Collins

[chloristoflora]

The big drake stood over her. Light touched him, gleaming him black and then blue. A river pig hung limp from his jaws. The blood dripping onto the side of her mouth was warm. He had brought his kill here to devour while he waited for her to die. The smell of it was intoxicating. She moved her tongue in her mouth, tasting life one last time.

He dropped the pig right in front of her. Eat that.

Her incredulous response had no words.

Eat that. If you eat, you might live. If you live, I might find a mate worthy of my size. Kalo wheeled away from her. I will make a kill for myself. I will be back.

She felt the sodden earth under her shudder as he leapt into flight. Stupid male. She was too far gone for this. It was of no use. She opened her jaws slightly and the fresh blood ran over her tongue. She shuddered. The dead pig was so close to her, reeking of warm blood. She could not lift her head. But she could snake it along the ground on the length of her neck, and open her jaws wide enough to close them around its water-gleaming hindquarters. She closed her jaws, her teeth sank in and blood flowed into her mouth. She swallowed it, and her hunger woke like a banked fire does to wind. She lunged, snapped, and tipped her head up to swallow. A short time passed, and she lifted her head. She had dragged the pig closer with her first assault on it, and now she could scissor off chunks and gulp them down. Blood and life flowed back into her.

Pain came with vitality. When the pig was gone, she shuddered all over. Small creatures that had crept closer under cover of darkness suddenly scattered back into the rushes. She rolled onto her belly and then gave a roar of pain as she lurched to her feet. She walked to the river's edge and then out into the icy water. Ants and beetles that had come to feast on her wounds were washed away in the water's chill rush. She felt the acid’s hard kiss and hoped it would sear some of the lesser wounds closed. She groomed awkwardly, too swollen and stiff to reach some of her injuries. And the worst one, that still held part of the damned Chalcedean arrow, forced her wing out at an odd angle. There was less pressure from it since the second piercing and it seemed to be draining still. She forced herself to move the wing and felt a rush of liquid down her side. She screamed her fury at the pain to the night, and night birds lifted from the trees and a passing troop of monkeys fled shrieking from the river's edge. Good to know that something still trembled in fear of her. She staggered from the water and found a less trampled place among the tall rushes and fern fronds and lay down to sleep. Not to die. To sleep.

That's good to know. His thought touched her before she felt the wind of his wings sweep past her. He landed heavily, and the gelid earth quaked beneath him. She smelled fresh blood on him; so he had made another kill and fed himself.

Tomorrow morning, I will hunt meat for you again. He stretched out his body casually beside hers and she knew a moment's unease. This was not the way of dragons. No dragon brought down prey for another, nor did they sleep in proximity to one another. But his eyes were closed and the stentorian breath of his sleep was regular. It was very strange to have him so close to her. Strange, but comforting, she thought to herself, and closed her eyes.

Blood of Dragons, by Robin Hobb (Rain Wild Chronicles #4)

[gildedweapon]

fr @dethvoid

" i will always be yours. "

Mignon form sways, eager heart; jovial delight alight in those emeralds 'twould shame fel fire or mayhaps even the jewels they 'twere likened to. Delicate fingertips reach up to ghost ov'r such angular features of a young Hunter she knew (knows, ever maturing; ever aging despite the demon in him), the yearning ache like a hungering gorge, hollowing and howling, to feel the gelid darkness that is him within. To grasp. To let the shadows and shades swim on her skin, to envelop, to swallow, to consume.

He would always be hers?

'Twas not the other words around, as they say? She would always be his. No matter whose name was engraved on her true self. On the back of her skin 'twixt shoulder blades.

Still, despite her ghosting and dusting; memorizing every line as she's done heretofore. Her favorite map. She caresses his cheek and a smile blooms therein on her lips, crisp sweetness as if a bite of a fresh apple were taken, ❝ T-Truly? If I could ever be so selfish, I would v-very much like that. ❞

But, she also knew his freeing heart.

❝ I do not mind sharing you w-with you. I hope you know, wherever you go. I will always be here. I will always be yours. ❞ She whispers this like a hymn, a promise, a vow blessed by the crescent of Dawn and Dusk.

❝ M-Meus. ❞ She repeats his antediluvian language, the surging emotions flooding and overwhelming. To always be someone's. O what delight. A kiss then, swift and true like a silver bullet. One would mistake gun smoke 'twixt their lips of velvet and satin. One would mistake a bullseye 'twixt pearl and emeralds and obsidian and garnets.

❝ Always, Dark. Always. ❞

[afistfulofsilence]

The Stars, Like Windborne Embers, Dance

The moon burns full with a cold flame

up there, pinned onto the

unfathomed blackness of the abyssal space.

It bears a vague half-

-human, half-canine countenance,

like a Halloween mask upon an evil face.

And the stars, like windborne embers, dance.

Hark now, for the north wind

howls in tongues

as the curling mist fills my lungs.

I dip my claws in the gelid moonlight

and wash my snout and neck and chest.

Only when flesh hangs from my fangs

and blood drips down my chin

will I appease the hunger

of the ravening man within.

Only then - at the crack of dawn

- may he finally go to rest.

[sntsatticus]

It is the trembling of his hands that takes his focus away. He has always been easy to distract; a movement caught in the corner of his eyes, a different smell, a shadow passing ⸻ His attention is a fragile thing, barely held together by a poorly knotted thread. But it is strange how dazed he feels ⸻ utterly out of control of his movements, his body. He cannot stop the trembling, eyes furrowed and lips pouting, his entire body vibrating with concentration as he tries to stop. His throat tightens, lungs constrict, heart does not beat faster but he can feel the bizarre thumpthumpthump of it as he gulps around empty air. He looks at Laure, blinks, sees dark eyes and dark hair, sharp smirk and ugly words. Faces blur into one another ⸻ an angry dead mother with cold eyes and Laure, who never looked at him with hatred in her gaze.

He wishes he could pretend he came back from spending his day crouching at mud puddles and ponds, watching frogs while avoiding the note of misbehaving from his schools.

But his hand will not stop trembling and chewed dead faces staring at him from outside the windows. He whimpers, broken, leaning and moving until he is half resting against Laure. Nikko had never outright begged for affection, comfort. The ghost had always titled him an intruder in this house, a being so wrong he did not deserve a loving touch. You are not right. You are a freak of magic. A mistake. He believed it, the words carved themselves in the inside of his bones, of his windpipes, his head. He could never escape it. But now ⸻ He can't help himself. He feels cold, and empty, and so scared he might cry. Or wither and die, he doesn't know. The smells are too much, his entire self overwhelmed with the world around him, but Laure is solid. She is familiar ⸻ from her scent to the gelid touch of her hand. Somehow, for some reason, he always felt safe around her. He will never admit it, but these past three years had him cracking at the lack of her in his life. Without Kiri, perhaps, they were not family ⸻ but something inside of him longed and ached for her still. All of it, the feelings, the turning, the hunger heavy on his spine, is what makes him whisper, "thanks, mom."

He stays like that, for a bit. Quiet, unmoving. When he pulls away, it is to take a sip of the hot chocolate she made. It tastes like ash in his tongue; like burnt wood, burning coals, dead flesh. He places the cup down with a grimace, looks up at her with tear-filled wide eyes. "I was coming back from class," he signs, slowly. He tries to put together the shards of his mind, filling the gasp of his memory. But very little becomes clear to him. "I don't remember. It was my throat ⸻ I think. I don't know who it was. I remember the hunger. I never felt it before." He was parched. Starving, still. "I don't ⸻ I remember waking up. There was so much blood. So many bodies. I ⸻" A broken sob escapes his throat, but he tries to hold himself strong. "They said I killed them. They had families, and I ⸻ I ate them."

Fuck. "Will mom hate me now?"

It's the second time in so many months that Laure feels like the breath has been stolen out of her lungs. First Kiri, now Nikko. She hadn't noticed that he was missing, used to him disappearing for days at a time, at odd hours. Since Kiri had gone missing, since he had moved out, there was little tethering them together. And yet, it was Laure that he had called, from an unknown number that she had dismissed at first. She'll never forget how terrified he sounded, how he called her 'mom' instead of Laure. George had broken nearly every speed limit to reach him, and even she had been almost stunned at the carnage he had left behind.

She was no stranger to bloodshed and gore, had spent centuries reveling in it, but there is a blank look in Nikko's eye that makes her cautious. She puts him in the backseat of the car before she pulls out her phone, calling for the nameless Pretorius lackeys who would clean up the mess and compel any witnesses. It's automatic, and Laure feels nothing for the humans as she looks upon their remains. She only thinks about how Nikko will need training, someone to guide him through the transition. He's soft, and for all the times she and Kiri had discussed their future, the decision for Nikko had always remained his own. Having it suddenly made for them makes her stomach flip.

The ride home is nearly silent and Laure spends much of it sending of messages and emails to those who would make sure that none of this could get traced back to him. By the time they reach Westriver, the details are taken care of and she sends him up to his room to shower. If she squints, she can pretend that he's simply filthy from hunting for frogs in the mud all day, not covered in the blood and viscera of multiple humans.

She thinks about calling Kiri, who should know what is happening, but she has no way of contacting her wife. She considers calling Markus, to hear some semblance of advice in the way only he can give. But instead, she waits in the kitchen, mixing a mug of hot chocolate. She hears him coming, though each step is lighter and more balanced than when he had been mortal. "You're not in trouble," she replies to him, setting down the mug in front of him and signing. "I've already taken care of it, and the news will talk about an animal attack tomorrow." She reaches out to brush some hair out of his eyes, unsettled by how cold he feels compared to what she is used to. "What do you remember?"

[rawcalamity]

History of Arctic-113

A cataclysm of death sullied Heavens flame long ago; casting divine bloodshed upon the dawn of Zenith‘s Decay. With her touch forbidden not a single light could pierce the tides of a cruel war, leaving galaxies across existence to be swallowed whole by darkness. Planets withered away unto swaths of frozen stones, harboring only barren fields that hungered for light—as even a stars warmth fell absent to their yearning. Echoed from the fractured and torn surface of every stone is a tale of old, whispering a time when they once blossomed with life. Now remnants of an ecosystem left ravaged by the scorn of divine conflict, they were fated to wither unto a celestial corpse. Within gales of a festering cold, three titans trekked silently as all that survived this terrible calamity. Tears welled in the eyes of ancients who howled with lament; mourning the loss of their dear kin. What once prospered a land home to titans of great stature now lied torn asunder—stripped away from all who cherished it by fates hand with only ageless vessels that remain tethered to a tale that had forsaken them. Driven only by a final resolve to lay their kin to rest, the ancient triad banded together and cleaved tombs from the surface of this frostbitten pathos.

With every fleeing century, the lagging titans grew languorous. One by one, each of the three descended to their knees to further nestle themselves unto the cold sediment. Their bodies erected from the surface like obelisks; protruding far from the frozen ground with a gaze unwavering. Closing their eyes, the triad caved to the frozen wastes and became one with the snow… However, their tale did not end here. It was as if the very sky was lit aflame—billows of ashen grey clouds cracked and burst with light upon the celestial reign of a new dawn. A kindled spark engulfed awakening stars to ignite the horizon of this frozen rock that had been left adrift for eons. Blanketed by its warmth, the rocks barren surface was washed with new hope; instilling vigor to those dormant beneath its crust. Hardened soil unfurled like the monarchs who breach from their cocoons, as colossal beasts erupted from its fissures… The Behemoths Wake ushered the dawn of a new world.

Landscapes quivered as the ground quaked and ice splintered; disturbed by the claws of beasts who sought to break free from their gelid graves. Rising beneath the first dawn, their eyes were met with barren expanses that had remained forlorn for far too long. To reshape the world was to play god—so too was their vision. In a display of divine intuition, the behemoths tore unto the frostbitten ground as mountains breached its fractures whilst trees unfurled from the scars. Snow careened gently from the sky, reflecting brilliant hues that danced throughout a newborn planet. The ancient triad watched as their kin acted with new life to restore a world thought to have been long lost. Overcome by emotion, tears trickled from their sunken eyes and filled the planets wounds with oceans and rivers. A behemoth who honed blades of divinity at its fingertips sought to guide the water and carve a sodden realm of its own; so it cultivated the gelid seas. Each of the three titans observed joyously as their kin nurtured swaths of biomes that would come to harbor life as it once did before.

Whilst a stars heavenly gaze looked after this rejuvenated planet, its zenith did not shine brightly enough to quell its darkness. A beast reared its ugly head from the depths of this world, shadowing the new dawn. An unruly and hateful colossal it was, and without love it wore a wretched heart stained by the scorn of a war that decimated galaxies long before it. To hold the ideals of catastrophe and death was to oppose those who sought prosper, and soon conflict evolved between these sacred guardians and the behemoth with a taste for destruction. It’s fury seared a trail of death in its conquest, ravaging the very fields beneath it. The ancient triad were left with no other choice but to confront this rampaging beast—lest they watch their home be enthralled by calamity once more. Legends paint the tale of a struggle that stretched on for centuries, only coming to a end once the triad forged a powerful blade from within the planets core. With this weapon, they pierced the heart of the behemoth. Defeated, it collapsed unto a sea of crimson snow. It then looked to the ancient triad with pleading eyes, begging for forgiveness; for the behemoth truly did not wish to perish. The ancient triad promised mercy on the terms that it swore its allegiance to them. Rather than harm their cherished home, it must vow to defend it. It is said that the behemoth swore an oath and was allowed to feel the dawn of a new day, however a fragment of the blade that ended its reign of terror was left wedged between its chest to serve as a reminder to its promise.

Primitive societies of arctic-113 revere the behemoths as gods, while others fear their display of divine power like the devil.

[justblades]

if u have time can u plsss write ab vampire blade🙏🙏

be mine ! ( drabble )

with : vampire! blade x gender neutral! reader

a/n : i can so i did 🤭 anything for my bbg blade

vampires are outcasts of the society, discarded like dross to humanity with no redeeming qualities. as it is a common misconception that vampires are birthed life forms, the truth is actually they are made, one day waking up having characteristics of a fearful life form.

blade has been keeping up his façade for a while now, eventually reaching to a point that he's running low on his fill for blood. it had to be this moment, where he's doing work with a fellow colleague, your warm body seemingly close to his bitter cold stature. he steals glances at your neck's sweet spot every time you shift movements, and only until then he realized hunger really is his own foible.

with his veined, slender fingers wrapping suddenly around your throat, your jaw falls agape and eyes turn into two full moons— taken aback at why he's doing this to you: blade, who's always been a kind coworker of yours. the monitor in front of you shuts down, flashing nothing but a blank black slate of a screen: alongside it was the glint of blade's blood crimson eyes and the sharpest points of his canines.

"i don't feel sorry for having to do this to you." he says with a monotonous voice, but you draw a long deep sigh much to his surprise. "i figured i'll encounter one someday - i told myself that as a joke long ago." you respond and slowly spin around your chair to meet with blade's gelid gaze. "if anything, i'm glad i'm of help to you— honestly, i've liked you for a long time already."

pathetic. that's how you sounded, really? confessing at a crucial time where your life will be taken? blade feigns composure and nods, flicking his tongue on the particular spot of your neck. you shiver from the suddenness, but at this point, you've long accepted your fate. "are you aware of what's going to happen to you once i suck the blood from your neck?" you shake your head lightly as you were not that knowledgeable of vampires' origins, nature and the effects they might inflict on their own victims.

"once i leave a bite mark, we'll become as one— and perhaps you'll make a great fodder for my everlasting hunger."

[yikimiki]

Gojo x fem!reader // fantasy // smut, dark content, dubcon, creampie, virginity loss, coercion, objectification, weird sexual offerings to the gods (+18)

I just had this random idea, kind of a medieval fantasy scenario in which you are a commoner and your village is going through one of the harshest winters in known history. There is nothing to eat — both the fields are dead and the animals are gone — and the people are turning to violence and stealing from one another to keep themselves alive. It’s only a matter of time before things escalate, and no one knows if they will die by the cold, the hunger, or by the hands of a friend.

In comes Gojo, this odd, off-putting man that claims to be a “pastor, or maybe a healer, from faraway lands” — he doesn’t seem to make up his mind. He rides an old, grey horse and says he’s a believer in the old gods, the true ones, and that only a strong gift offered to them would be sufficient to scare these plagues away from your land. He claims he has done similar miracles in the past, and that he travels all the lands in hopes of helping more poor, damned strangers — for no payment at all. You don’t believe a word he says.

Considering that the common folk is succumbing into desperation, however, it’s no wonder that they trust the man faster than they should — it’s easier to believe in divine intervention than to think all your loved ones will die by cruel, unavoidable fate. Once more, you don’t particularly care for the traveler’s empty promises until men are knocking at your door in the early hours of nightfall.

The gift (or offering), you discover, is the purity of a soul. Not a blood sacrifice, Gojo stresses, but corruption. And you have been honorably elected as the fairest and purest maiden around to give yourself away in the name of your people. To give your virginity away to the only man that is worthy in the eyes of the old gods of taking it in their name — Gojo, of course.

The idea of arguing crosses your mind, but you see in the desperate eyes of your people that they won’t let this miraculous chance flee; that they will continue to white-knuckle it even if it means your life will be on the line. So you decide to agree with it — at least to try, so you don’t face the wrath of your own. It cannot be that bad.

Gojo is surprisingly careful with you, taking you into a ritual tent he has raised in the middle of the gelid grounds. Inside is hot as a summer day, even if there is no fire in sight and, before his soft lips meet yours, you swear you start to believe in the magic he claims he carries.

Everything is tense at first, your body reacting to his touches as if he’s burning you, taunting your soul. He is, you realize, and that notion only seems to scare you further.

“Relax, darling, you are doing something for your people,” he reassures, feather-like kisses trailing down your neck. Your skin feels strange, like you can’t feel anything, yet everything at the same time. There’s a peculiar feeling at the bottom of your stomach that you can’t shake, a mixture of fear and arousal that has your heart jumping out of your chest. “You are so sweet. The sweetest, prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen,” Gojo praises, and you melt under his soothing words. His large hands are working on the strings of your dress, large body pressing you down against the piles of fur on the ground. “The gods will adore you. And so will I.” He smiles. “And you will adore me.”

And you do — again and again, you do. You adore him when he sucks and laps on your breasts, you crave his touch when he plays with your most sensitive parts until you’re moaning and crying his name into the darkness of the night. All around, you feel as if the shadows on the tent are watching you, expectant, and they reach a frenzied state when his girthy cock finally sinks itself inside your virgin hole, tearing your purity away from you. The pain is immense and instantaneous, but Gojo cuts it with a deep kiss — magic appears again as it instantly goes away and pleasure explodes inside your chest.

He thrusts slowly at first, building up his tempo until his hips are slapping against yours over and over again — a lewd symphony of lust that immerses all your senses in no time. You feel like you’re floating, like you’re part of the shadows around you — not even a person, not even alive. Through the dizziness of your state, you feel as if you have lost something great, given yourself away to something you cannot even comprehend, but the preoccupations go away when your high washes over your body, and then you think nothing at all.

Gojo rushes soon after, a strangled groan muffled against your shoulder as he spills his thick waves of cum inside your abused walls, concluding the small ritual for the night. You lay there, used, ravished, trying to understand everything you just went through. “Perfect, my dear,” he breathes out, his voice a deep, husky vibration on the corners of your fuzzy brain, “you are absolutely perfect.”

-

Gojo departs from your village the morning after, and the harsh winter disappears like a blown candle the following week. As the months go by and your stomach swells more and more, you begin to wonder what exactly the strange man received from the gods in return for his work.

[rafent]

Impulse leading the feet before the brain, strategy and sound mind waived in favor of the heart's unfounded caprice. All signs pointed toward a right young fool, someone who ought to be discouraged from the seeds of their adverse behavior lest they grow to worse. So why was it that Rafal could not reproach Caspar's explanation? Instead, his limbo of indecision. The speechless dragon stared at him with mouth parted ever so slightly - words useful and needed, but none in that moment to be found.

Only humanity would be host to such parasitic folly within themselves, only humanity would welcome flaw, justify it, and think nothing of excision. His silence persisted, until released with an exasperated sigh. Not only humanity would act so foolishly on behalf of another; motion by emotion, stirred to champion their compassionate causes discrete from common sense. No, the Divine One also—

Before Rafal's thought could finish, and before Caspar's sentence might, the world blazed with new violence. In its ashes and receding shadows they were another person less than what they were. One dragon who had reconciled himself, another who had seen fit to take away. "That flavorless carrot would do little to sate me, Laylea." Gaze flicked forward from his remaining ally, brandished with her same anger, if colder. "Though it appears the nature of our hunger is the same."

Rafal 1/10HP hits Corporate Shadow 25.5/30 HP with Anker -> Corporate Shadow 24.5/30 HP

Caspar; as young as Madeline, as emotional as the Divine One. And what of Rafal? Who might he be compared to? The distance between his gelid face and his inspirited axe delivering attack as much as retribution. "Your extreme correction was unneeded. The human boy was young. His sincerity and forward spirit could be tempered and reined in through time. By other means."

"By other means?" Laughter followed its pained hiss. "Mercy? Holding their hands? Please. Humans are the very provenance of weakness. They learn through no other way than by their downfalls, and even then, always do they. Come. Back."

'Always do they come back?' He quirked a brow at the evocative word choice, bitter from another angle. Perhaps the livelihood of the casino and its fortunes carved from human repetitions fomented more than just greed. As the notion gave him pause, ebony tendrils licked around his heels just beyond his range of perception, spider legs carefully setting a web unbeknownst to the unaware. The very ground that Rafal stood on a deathly bog that would swallow him whole.

"Grown soft on them, I see, and yet you are no human yourself—" Tongue clucked - or a fate clicked. Silvery head turned a fraction too late and on the skinniest of seconds, impoverished of any other feeling but his fleeting surprise. Not even sensation allowed, not even a breath.

Corporate Shadow 24.5/30 HP counterattacks Rafal 1/10 HP with Please Play Responsibly -> Rafal 0/10 HP —critical hit!

". . .All the more disappointing." Black all over, killer appendages swiped kittenishly over themselves like arachnid legs cleaning after a meal of abundance.

Rafal is defeated!

✦ 𝐈 𝐖𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐍 𝐈𝐏𝐀𝐃 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔? 𝐀 𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 ✧

Team 12, Summer Arena 2024 — bronze round

[herstarburststories]

you and me and the devil makes three.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x reader, Demon!Dean Winchester x reader, past Lisa x Dean

Summary: Dean is a demon, he will take whatever he wants.

A/N: This got darker than I expected. I wanna make it clear I don't condone or engage with Dean's acts on this. This is my submission for @jawritter 's Make Me Cry Challenge. Congrats, honey! Hope you like it. Dividers by talesmanic and gif credit here

Prompt: I guess I should have been more like her.

Warnings: non consensual kissing, language, UNHEALTHY BEHAVIOR, non con (kissing and touching but no sex), dirty talk

Dean Winchester was a dreamer.

In the rawest way of the word, the meaning in the dust-collecting dictionaries and not the idealistic form. His eyelids shut close and, just like magic, Dean’s head was as haunted as the home he swore he’d never come back to in Kansas. The ghosts of the past, not ever so very friendly, coming to greet him at least three times per week. Sometimes they were happy films he could never starre in real life, his mom singing or a picnic with a lover saying that they needed to hurry up to get their kid at the baseball. The nightmares were sleepy visions of flesh and blood, mostly about his time underneath, Sam hurting, or his father spilling out his worst fears at his face. 

Maybe it was how the eldest Winchester’s brain compensated for the lack of bedtime tales and docile affairs growing up. The own way that his brittle soul discovered and molded not to let him collapse, or to always keep him on red alert. 

Good and bad deals are mostly a matter of which side you are betting your money on, really.

Because yeah, Dean did wake up feeling like he had shut his forest eyes briefly for twenty minutes instead of hours when he dreamed, but he also had never spent so long trapped in a better place. The green eyed hunter didn’t know which one was worse: the good dreams or the horrific ones. After all, he had went through all the atrocity and made it out alive, but the engulfed craving for light-hearted scenarios was suffocating. The hunter could never have it all. Trust him, he tried. Then, which is more agonizing: to have everything you ever wanted for a couple hours and have every scrap of it taken from you, or to undergo the calamity that accompanied your breaking point? 

Dean didn’t know, he didn’t even know what to tell Sam when he wondered what his brother had dreamt about to wake up sweating and screaming, all the light and stupid apple pie desires and the sharp brutality crawling out of the back of his mind. He made a joke, Megan Fox really liked knives, man. He kept it in, shoved down a good amount of alcohol, and mocked the worry of doing the lawn. Ready for another day. 

But now he was a demon, and apparently whatever he was made of - sulfur, cruelty, and black eyes under garden ones - wasn't worthy quiet reliefs in the middle of the night, or even frightening figments of memory. He became his worst dreams and all the dreams slipped beyond his reaches because of that. Demons, those unholy creatures, didn’t get the human peculiarities. You know what? Fine by him.

Who needed dreams when you don't need sleep, anyway? Even better: who needed dreams when you don't care about what you gotta do to put your greedy hands on the prize you had been eyeing for years? 

Dean Winchester was finally free. Free for the first time since he was a four years little boy who watched his mother burning with a terrorized expression, ironically mimicking the one Mary wore on the ceiling. His dad’s shouting for him to grab Sammy and run, take your little brother and run, echoing through years and years. There was never time for Dean, for his grief or his questions or whatever the child frozen in time under his rib cage could come up with. They said, stupid psychologists with their fancy degrees and malicious bartenders with a unfriendly grun under the counter who learned a little too much, everybody said that when someone was so traumatized as a kid, that person would tend to get frozen at that age. Therefore, how tremendously alleviating was to kill any reminiscing emotion of the whiny child he used to be. 

The kind of freedom that no traveler longed for; when one’s ruined and damaged enough not to care, and just take and take and take like hunger itself. Dean was an evil thing now, what else could he do but act on the figments of the worst intentions?

And feel so fucking good when doing that. 

‘’Where do you think he's going?’’ Your eyes raked over the street, darting between the asphalt under Baby’s wheels and Sam’s weary features.

‘’I don't know.’’ He sighed, attempting to organize his thoughts. Even as a demon, his brother wouldn’t just run miles and miles away by himself for no apparent reason. There had to be something you and Sam were missing out, some unseen clue or a hidden meaning. ‘’What the localizator says?’’

At least you had managed to put a tracker in his boots during your last encounter. Whatever Dean was thinking of starting there, you and Sam wouldn’t let him.

‘’Still Cicero, Indiana.’’ You sighed. Sammy furrowed his eyebrows, a long forgotten memory rising. ‘’What?’’

‘’We had a case there once years ago.’’ He explained, opting not to elaborate. Your and Dean’s relationship was troubled enough with his new self. Sam didn’t want to blow it up completely. His brother would need you once he came back to himself. The look on your face, though, reported how you weren’t buying his cheap excuses. The long haired hunter sighed. ‘’Did Dean ever tell you about that?’’

‘’No.’’

He stepped on the accelerator.

To find the woman was excruciatingly easy. The freckled demon couldn't believe he opened his computer many times and gave up before today. He glanced through the glass window and there she was, standing in all her glory with a body that seemed to forget how to grow old. Her tan skin still glowing, as appetizing as ever. Brown eyes shining so bright, tiny hands that always seemed to know where he wanted to be touched. She was laughing like there was no tomorrow, holding a glass of wine with one hand and her cellphone with the other, while her dark hair was falling so perfectly over her shoulder, like waves against the rocks in the sea.

Dean can’t wait to smell her again, to taste her, to prove her. His fingers were tingling, begging to touch what was his as he hopped off the car, walking towards the porch. He had been gone for a long time, but now he was back. 

He will destroy that quintessential, sequin woman so good.

The Winchester buckled in front of the white door, graced with the sound of the female giggle. Thin walls, he thought, those will be useful to make sure the neighbors know who’s back home. Her steps on the wood floor growing closer and closer as he heard a goodbye, probably aimed at whoever she was on the phone with. It was almost like the caramel skinned woman knew that whoever was on her doorstep wasn’t gonna be a hustled visitor. Or so the demon’s arranged mind said.

‘’Hey, Lis.’’ Dean’s voice lacked any cherishment as she opened the door, who would know that the absence of a soul wouldn't be gelid, just dry? As for her, Lisa’s face was drained of love. For all she was aware of, he was a stranger who knew her name. The male let out a chuckle empty of joy. She really didn’t remember, huh? ‘’Whoa. Cass really fucked up your head, huh? At least he did one thing right.’’

‘’Excuse me?’’ The man with dirty blonde hair and perfect teeth smelled like alcohol. She wasn’t having any of this tonight. ‘’Listen, I don’t know who you are and--’’

‘’Don’t worry.’’ He tranquilized her, although the lopsided grin on his lips held anything but good intentions. ‘’I’ll make you remember. I have a spell. You won’t believe how much you missed me.’’

The mocking laugh that left her lips utterly aggravated him. ‘’I don’t know you. Please leave or I’ll call the police.’’

Dean didn’t need a crowd for that part, a bratty woman in need of a firm hand should get a particular lesson. 

‘’You always liked a little cat and mouse.’’

Speaking of, the demon pushed the door wide open without any effort. Lisa jumped at the sudden move, every instinct inside her deciding that man was a threat and not some harmless wasted guy. Her body was quickly erect, thinking about ways to run and get help, but Dean swiftly pushed her to him and kicked the door closed-- her small figure collided to his chest.

Human savagery was cut in urban ways, molded to civilize the animalistic instincts. Imagine meat. A dead animal on a silver plate, and we couldn’t wait to chew every inch of it. We couldn’t wait to eat it, put that dead thing inside us and hope it’ll be enough to control the predatory hungry. Humans will always be animals, but so will be their rests that constructed the demons. 

Dean may not be a hunter anymore, but he’s still a predator who can't wait to taste his prey. He could small it, the fear in Lisa’s sweat making his mouth water. How much she tried to fight against him and scream other names when his was the only one he wanted her to need tonight. The resistance of a poor human barely made the monster shiver.

He closed his hands around her arms, throwing her against the wall like someone tossed an old toy away. There was no space for delicaly. In that moment, Dean Winchester was a tiger, a lion, the big bad wolf attacking the omega. Lis winced, her back hurting as her fibers. She couldn’t believe this was happening, that man was about to do something so terrible and disgusting to her in her own house, the place she was supposed to feel warm and safe. Why did he seem to know her? Why did he say she was gonna remember? Was he crazy, hallucinating, or drugged? Why was he so satisfied with how frightened her tiny body looked? How could she use all that information to somehow push him away?

‘’Let me go!’’ She demanded, her legs kicking the demon with ferocity. ‘’What’s wrong with you? LET ME GO NOW!’’

The brunette’s skilled body moved itself desperately, and the act of resistance only brought a hysterical laugh out of Dean. The wrong kind of goosebumps washed her skin, she had to run away for her life. This man was mad.

‘’FIRE! FIRE!’’ Lisa started to scream. Well-aware that people were most likely to come around and help a woman screaming if she said fire. ‘’THERE’S A FIRE. SOMEONE HELP ME!’’

One of his hands went to her neck, wrapping his fingers around it to shut her up. That was rubbing him off the wrong way. Lisa Braeden used to beg for his touch, how dared her not to want him anymore? Now that he was better, stronger, and thicker.

The brown eyed girl went quiet, probably scared by his brutal behavior. Dean smiled, a blood stained grin that carried mischief and pervertment. He licked the tears savoring the salty horror coming from her. Just like the day he was a vampire who almost gave in to drinking every drop of her luptuos blood. She may not remember but he did and he couldn't wait to get inside her, those tight walls squeezing his hard cock.

‘’You’re gonna do as I say, Lis. And I won't hurt you… Much.’’ He risped, crooked nose stroking her wet cheek. She whined. ‘’Don’t worry, honey. You loved it. Bet you’ll scream so much once I fuck you good.’’

‘’Please, don’t do it.’’ She begged as he coaxed his body against his. That man was stronger than her, she had no other choice but to plead to his human side. If only she knew.

‘’Begging already?’’ Dean lifted his head, smirking at her. Lisa just wanted to cry and close her eyes until everything was done. How could someone do that? ‘’I told you, don’t worry. I’m gonna make a lil’ spell that will give your memories back and you’ll remember everything. And then we’re gonna have so much fun, Lis.’’

His last murmur was finished with a kiss. A harsh, ruthless kiss. Actually, she wasn’t even sure if she could call it a kiss; teeth against each other, his vicious mouth pressed to her weakened lips, his tongue invading her like a robber and showing an unrequited dominance.

‘’Dean!’’ Your voice resonated stridently, louder than the door Sam had stormed open. You couldn’t believe what your eyes witnessed. ‘’Stop it!’’

Dean groaned, as if you and Sam were stepping on his territory. He simply turned his head to you two, not pulling away from Lisa. You couldn’t see her face, your boyfriend’s large shoulder and tall body covering her up. His eyes were still green, which set the scene in an even more atrocious light. 

Your thoughts were racing. How could he come to her, crave her so badly that he drove away miles and miles as a demon? He was supposed not to feel a thing. You prepared yourself for a cold man, not an obsessive one. Apparently, a heart hidden under the black smoke. Choose if it's a gift or Pandora's box. Sam told you their history. Of course he would want that and not you. Dean never left Lisa because he fell out of love for her, he was ripped out from her life. You were so pissed at yourself; how could you picture playing the woman in his veins? How stupid were you? He may be a demon guided by wants and not emotions, but what was love but an amount of outrageous desires laced up with some pretty words and flavored with dependency?

‘’Y/N and Sammy--’’

Love was the wrong word here. Anyway. Go head and unwrap it.

‘’Please help me!’’ Lisa’s voice came to life once more through her quiet cry. Dean hardened the hold around her throat, making her cough a little.

Suddenly, your body is frozen. That, whatever that is, whatever he’s doing to Lisa. It wasn’t love. She didn’t want it. When his frame moved to face you and Sam, you caught a glimpse of her face. She was petrified, her delicate features contorted in wrath and fear and beg for help.

‘’Quiet.’’ Dean howled, glancing at her rapidly before his eyes fell on you and Sam again. ‘’You two are such killjoys. I told you to let me go.’’

You couldn’t believe what you were witnessing. You wanted to puke your guts out.

‘’And what? Kill your ex? Or do something even worse to her?’’ You elicited with disgust.

‘’She’ll come around eventually. Just playing hard to get. You know how frisky women are.’’ The corner of his lips curved into a barbaric grim, one of his hands touching Lisa’s cheek. The victim winced at the touch. ‘’Besides, I’m not just gonna take her. I’ll make her remember and she’ll want me.’’ He shrugged, unbothered by the horrified looks of everyone in the room. ‘’Are you really worried about Lis, Y/N? Or are you just jealous that I didn’t go for you?’’

‘’Enough, Dean.’’ Sam groaned, holding the gun up. It felt oily. ‘’Let her go. And come with us.’’

The demon tossed the brunette away with a simple sleight of hand, pulling his sleeves up with a marred beam. His eyes switched from starry green to black, showing his true facette. It was a peculiar relief. It wasn’t Dean. It wasn’t Dean. It wasn’t Dean.

Yet, Dean’s gruff voice said in a twisted playful tone:

‘’Come get me, Sammy.’’

Dean Winchester was cured. For most people, to heal is to let go or to learn with things. In the doctor’s case, healing is leaving a bruise to cover up a wound. Everyone believed the war started and ended, and that was it. But when something so ravaging is gone, you gotta deal with the trauma.

He was a trauma. Cured from a sickness, drowning in sorrow and waves of woe. All the worst things Dean ever did, he knew now, weren’t to himself or to the monster he so proudly killed. His unspoken acts were against the people he cared about.

The hunter never thought his hands, his bruised and tough hands could ever hurt Lis. The woman who was his lifeline when Sam died, who allowed him to be a father and live in his dreamland of suburban life. All she ever did was to love him, and what did she get for it?

He was disgusted with himself. What almost did to her was enough to hunt him and make him sure he was going back to hell, very deserving this time. Threating to do that to a woman, and enjoy it… Dean couldn’t bear driving into memories. He was selfishly glad he didn’t remember about that, only Sam’s explanation was enough: he went to Lisa, he kissed her without her consent, and Sam and you stopped him going any further. Would his unscrupulous, demon self go ahead? He was too scared to wonder, even though his brother said that he apparently had a spell to make Lis remember and wasn’t planning on just taking her. A forced kiss was disgusting enough. He just wished Sam had put a bullet in his black eyes right there.

You walked in the bathroom that you once shared with the eldest Winchester

She was everything he ever wanted, all the suburban dreams and acceptance of hunter reality without being in it. Lisa loved him completely and you could only love him sideways-- you never wanted to be a mom, or to have a family or live in a suburb. Those were valid goals, just not yours. You thought you and Dean were on the same page about it, but this other side, not only the pervert demon but the domestic man, hadn’t been shown to you until a couple days ago. Sam had cured his brother, his dirty nature washed away with holy water, but you couldn’t help the bruises that came from the dog days. Lisa had her memory erased by Cass again, you didn’t have the same unfair luxury.

‘’Dean.’’ You said, making him look up at you. Bags under his eyes and wrinkles more evident than ever. ‘’We need to talk.’’

He sighed and wiped his face. ‘’Y/N, I don’t want to talk right now.’’

‘’You never do.’’ You scoffed, gaining an incredulous glance from him. ‘’I know that what happened was disgusting and sick and the worst thing you could ever do, but we need to talk.’’

He took a deep breath. ‘’What do you wanna talk about?’’

‘’You went to her.’’ You stated as a lawyer in front of a jury. Dean furrowed.

‘’What?’’

‘’Lisa. You went to her.’’ When the arrow hit someone so damaged, it was like an animal with his teeth there that wouldn't let go. Yeah, his human soul wasn't the same brittle glass as before but it lingered in his demon self in the shape of delusion, and it was distorted by whatever he was made of, violence and darkness, and turned into something disgusting. ‘’You love her.’’

‘’Love?’’ The word burned his tongue, Dean didn’t think he had the right to ever use it again. ‘’I was a demon, Y/N. I didn’t love or feel anything. What I did--’’

‘’You didn’t do anything.’’ You interrupted, loyal as a soldier.

‘’I forced a kiss on her and wanted to bring her memories back to have sex with her. That’s disgusting and I did half of that.’’ He pointed out aggitadly, plump lips moving fast and voice deeper. ‘’It wasn’t love. Leaving her years back was love.’’

You didn’t miss how Dean didn’t even dare to say her name. ‘’So you don’t think about her? Not even once?’’

He scoffed humourless. ‘’Are you kidding me?’’

‘’I guess I should have been more like her.’’ You hugged yourself, glancing at the wall. You didn’t want to cry in front of him. Not again, not for another woman. That wasn’t even your cicatrix to ache. 

‘’Y/N, what the fuck are you talking about?’’ The fully green eyed man raised to his feet, glancing at you with disbelief. He couldn’t face how messed up it was. ‘’I can’t believe you are jealous of what happened. I thought I was the broken one here.’’

‘’I’m not her.’’ You two shared it, the glance that only two women who were hurt by the same man could. You both understood that when he got inside you, it was like the syringe in an eutanasia. Once you were happy because you loved him, now you were scared and not so sure this was what you wanted. ‘’I’m not her and you knew it. When you became just instincts and selfish and did whatever you wanted, you didn’t come to me. You came to her.’’

‘’I hurt her.’’

The next words fly out of your mouth, as weak and totaled as you felt: ‘’Why didn’t you hurt me?’’

‘’This is the most unhealthy shit we ever went through.’’ Dean’s right. You have her expression mesmerized on your brain. Dean was the man on top of her, teaching her how to hate. How to fear. You can’t trust yourself. ‘’I can’t believe you.’’

‘’Neither can I.’’ You were so sick. How ravaged and annihilated one had to be to wish to be a demon's object of obsession? To get jealous that another woman almost died in the arms of a beast that cried his blood out once he came back to being a man and saw what he had done? ‘’I hate it. I hate feeling like this. I was there and I saw how scared of you she was, how all she wanted was to push you away and run because she was so disgusted--’’

‘’Stop.’’ He groaned, but it came out more like a whine than anything. ‘’It wasn’t me. I would never hurt Lis. I would never force her to do anything! I--’’

You gave him a sad smile. ‘’You love her.’’

‘’I love you.’’ Dean approached you, fumbling in despair to fix yet another thing his hands destroyed. If Rome was built in ruins, he was a kingdom. You pulled away before his tough hands landed on you.

‘’But you love her too.’’ The hunter stopped on his spot, unable to answer. ‘’I ruined myself for you, Dean. I can’t-- I won’t do that again. You are right. This is unhealthy. The fact that you’ve been pining for her for so long, pushing down those feelings to the point they are twisted into something so cruel and disgusting. You need help.’’ What kind of ugly you have to have inside you for a monster to love you? And, even worse, what kind of sickness you have trapped, written in your blood to want it to be spilled out in his name? ‘’You really are venom. If this is how you love, it’s scary as fuck.’’ When you loved a broken man, you were never sure if his shattered pieces would glisten or cut your hand once the light came in. Here’s your answer. His parts crawled inside you through pulled up scars, scraping your insides to make into ruins, but you never liked Rome much. You had to be better than that. ‘’Goodbye, Dean.’’

He couldn’t bring himself to go after your steps.

Once again, it’s the kind of freedom no traveler wants. When you lost it all and didn't have any person or place to cling to, when you had to leave because you were becoming the girl you swore you’d never leave, when you walked away willingly without a map.

Still, it was all you had. You’d make a good use of it. You’d be okay. No more ugly emotions or sentiments that made you unrecognizable. No more knives that cut both ways, or situations so complicated you weren’t sure where your morals could rely on.

You’d be okay, healthy, and happy.

You’d be okay.

Comment & reblog. Feedback is magic! Check my masterlist ♡ Tags in reblog!

[cheese-ception]

Icy Shell

Darlings,  kindly forgive the initial angst - I promise the fluff that follows in the second half makes up for it tenfold.

Beta-tested on my dear @masamune-archive​ Tagging @tsubaki3192​ and @spanish-aguacate​, because I can and because it’s Levi time, you two, woo! Please, enjoy ♡ pairing: Leviathan (Obey Me!) x reader warnings: angst (to fluff) word count: 2004

Nothing seemed to make sense anymore and it wasn't fair. Leviathan's trembling fingers ran through his hair, still damp from the the shower he took earlier, purple strands glistening with stray droplets of water. Hours have passed him by as he struggled to pull himself together, pacing through his room anxiously, an agonized scowl twisting his features.

His eyes were glossed over, dark circles underneath them matching the shadows in his mind. He cursed profusely, tripping over one of the countless boxes littering the floor. Tears streamed down his cheeks, their wet trails almost painful in their descent, stinging his skin with merciless salt. He did not even bother to wipe them away, the last fragments of his focus set on a completely different kind of torment.

He picked up one of the boxes, tracing its edges with his chilled fingers, only to put it away again, carefully but without any real care at the same time.

The world was utterly joyless, a mere replica of what it used to be before the two of them met.

Before she filled his heart with all these strange feelings, causing him to become apathetic to the very things that used to keep him going.

Now none of them really mattered, regardless of how hard he tried.

Each time he ordered new merch, he lost interest before it even arrived.

Whatever game he played failed to entertain him.

Any show would have been better if she was there to watch it with him, leaving him feeling even more lonely and miserable.

He used to look forward to escaping social gatherings, to being alone in his room, able to enjoy the peace and quiet, far from the noise and the judgemental stares of all the normies he was forced to keep in touch with.

But not anymore.

Nothing made sense and it was all her fault.

Or was it, really? How many times had she asked to hang out together? How many times had she smiled at him, eyes sparkling with excitement, lips shiny with her cherry chapstick, upturned in the most endearing of smiles?

A smile that made him feel like his heart would cease beating if he didn't stop looking, so dazzling and brilliant that it made my shy away almost instantly.

He struggled hard not to give that feeling a name, afraid that if he did, the spell would break and she would finally realise he didn't deserve any of it, that she was better off sharing it with someone else, someone more worthy. He slid to the floor, hugging his knees tight to his chest, the war within him so intense that it easily put the whole celestial debacle to shame. Or at least that's certainly how it felt while his nails pierced his skin, setting themselves deep into the flesh of his forearms, crimson staining his white sleeves.

Days turned into weeks and he refused to leave his room, opening the door only when Asmodeus brought him food.

Sometimes not even then, leaving it grow cold at the doorstep, letting hunger gnaw at his insides in a desperate attempt to distract him from the void food couldn't fill.

It was better this way.

If he stayed away long enough, these feelings would eventually disappear. Surely he wouldn't suffer forever and she probably didn't even notice.

He was a nobody after all.

Nobody to be missed. He curled into himself in his tub, cradling a pillow to his chest and closed his eyes, ready to let the world disappear behind his weary eyelids and drift away to another restless sleep.

But even that wasn't meant to be as a soft knock sounded against the door, disturbing his attempt at disconnecting from reality.

“Go away, Asmo, I am not hungry!” he snarled, tossing around in a fruitless attempt at getting comfortable again.

He was met with silence, interrupted only by the soft click of the lock as the door opened slowly. Light spilling inside in harsh rays, Leviathan groaned, diving underneath the blanket where he sat still, pulling it over his head like a make-shift hoodie.

The floor creaked and he blinked fast, desperately trying to adjust his sight to the unwelcome luminosity but then the door closed again, shrouding everything in blissful darkness.

He sighed, relief spreading through him until he realised that his visitor didn't actually leave. Either that, or his nightmares came true and he was finally going crazy.

After all, he couldn't very well distinguish dreams from reality at this point and maybe he was just dreaming.

Why else would she be in there after all? “Levi?” a voice rang and his throat tightened, emotions flooding into him, threatening to suffocate him on the very spot.

He peered from underneath his blanket, trying to establish if it was really happening, not trusting his own voice enough to reply just yet.

“Are you okay?” Another sentence cut through the air, straight into his heart as he finally realised she was really there.

Her tone was filled with worry and he forced out a quiet hum, unsure just how to verbalize a proper response. “You have been away for a while, so I came here to check on you. I hope you do not mind too much. I know you probably did not want to see me, but I had to make sure you were alright,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper, trailing off into an awkward silence. He didn't know what to say. There was so much he wished he had the courage to tell her but words failed to form and he opened his mouth to speak several times, only to close it again right after.

He felt something warm touch his arm and he shivered, torn between flinching away and remaining as he was, letting the warmth seep into his gelid body, devoid of any of his own heat within. It was like being kissed by the sun after a long winter and he decided to stay still, letting some of the frost that settled on him dissolve, even if only for a moment.

Daring to look up, he searched her face, pale in the dim light of Henry's fish tank, wearing an expression so sincere it made his grip on the blanket tighten, moved by the intensity of the moment as the realisation hit him.

She really cared. For him, out of all the beings in the three realms combined.

She chose to seek him when he wanted to make it easy on her.

When he wanted to make her life better by removing himself from it.

“You don't have to say anything if you don't want to, but would it be okay if I hugged you?” she inquired, leaving him stunned for a few moments before he nodded, apprehension pulling at the last string that held him together. He thought he would fall apart right there in front of her, the frantic beating of his heart causing his blood to race, further melting his icy shell as he leaned forward tentatively.

For a fleeting moment he saw her smile, the very smile that shattered his heart and now pieced it back together, the sight of it making it soar like a phoenix born anew.

He held his breath, terrified that he misheard or that she was only teasing, ever so difficult to be convinced that anything pleasant could actually ever take place with him as a part of the equation. Doubt tugged at his mind, dismay threatening to settle in while he steeled himself, arms unfolded and raised in front of him somewhat awkwardly, waiting for her next move.

Suddenly her slender frame collided with his and it was as if he ascended back to heaven. Her scent enveloped him in its fruity sweetness, her chest pressed against his, delicate arms winding around him, patting his back affectionately.

It was entirely too much, yet somehow not enough and he choked back a whimper, sinking his teeth into his lower lip to silence himself instead.

Levi whined at the loss of the sensation when she eventually drew away, much too soon for his liking, even though he wouldn't openly admit it.

She took both of his hands in hers, giving them a little squeeze and he realised they were no longer cold at all. He closed his eyes, happiness spreading through him like a wildfire, the sparks of his love burning so bright and vivid that he nearly couldn't take it.

“I really missed you,” she chimed, loosening her grip on his hands, giving him space to retreat if he chose to do so.

“I am not quite sure what happened, but suddenly you were gone and it was like a part of me was missing too. Sorry if it sounds weird, but it's just not the same without you around, you know?”

“You really mean that?” he rasped, voice strained and hoarse, a mix of hope and insecurity filling it with equal share.

“Of course, why would I say it if I didn't mean it, silly?” she retorted, flashing him yet another smile and his last icy wall melted away.

Pulling her back to him, he let go of the previous hesitation, eager to feel more of what he spend so long denying himself, flustered and overstimulated but more content than he has ever been.

His trust was not easy to earn, but he decided to believe her and silence the nagging voices in his head for once. For her. And perhaps for himself too.

Her fingers combed through his hair, untangling the unruly tresses while her nails drew intricate patterns over his scalp, soothing yet enticing at the same time. He let out a sigh, nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck and she pulled him even closer, until he could feel her heartbeat mirroring his own in their silent race without a winner, invigorating beyond description. He felt more alive than ever before, her name dying on his lips while he carefully stroked her back in turn. He wished he could take back all the time he had wasted, thinking himself a fool for avoiding her when it was so strikingly obvious that what he really craved was the exact opposite of that.

Every second spent with her was sacred and he realised it now.

He didn't have to hide. Not anymore.

She brushed his fringe away, kissing his exposed forehead, gentle fingers attempting to tuck the silky strands away, failing tremendously. His hair cascaded back into its place, stubborn, just like himself. Levi chuckled and she kissed him again, this time on top of the messy purple layers, rewarded by a soft gasp.

“Do you still remember when you once asked me what my greatest fear was and I wasn't sure what to reply?” she inquired, snapping him out of the momentary daze.

He nodded, patiently waiting for her to continue.

Her hand slid to his cheek, gently stroking his flustered face as she took a deep breath before carrying on.

“I did not yet know then, but what really scares me is the thought of living in a world untouched by your presence, Levi. Please don't disappear on me like that again.” He met her gaze, reluctant and skittish at first, but soon grinning so hard the tips of his usually hidden fangs were on full display. He was grateful, for her but also for the fact that he somehow managed to retain his human form. He was certain that if his tail had manifested, there would be nothing he could do to prevent it from wagging. His cheeks burned even brighter than before, eyes flickering with newly found zeal. He continued smiling, extending a pinky to her with poorly concealed enthusiasm, focusing hard on pushing back the scales that begged to sprout across the sides of his hand while he held it out in her direction. “I won’t, I promise!” ________ Masterlist