#I have been granted too much free will I fear

[mazzystar24]

You ever do stuff and you don’t even know why you’re doing it just that the nonexistent audience are judging you and shaking their heads?

[fairyysoup]

easy living

pairing: eric (a quiet place: day one) x fem!reader

summary: You ran into Eric on accident. Now you're facing the end of the world together. How do you get to know someone when you can't make a sound?

tags: smut, oral (f receiving), dry humping, piv sex, silent fucking, angst, hurt/comfort, survival, discussions of trauma, slight suicidal ideation by reader, words of affirmation as a love language, stay silent or die (obviously), strangers to lovers, apocalyptic, the cheesiest ending bc it's me writing, billie holiday lyrics bc it's also me writing

a/n: here it is, the silent fucking fic i promised y'all a year ago when this movie was announced. it was supposed to be like 1-2k words of plain smut but then I got too into the theory of what one does when you can't show affection through words and I genuinely discovered a tidbit of trauma I didn't know I had while writing it so I will be talking to a therapist about it, and also I'm literally out here baring my soul lol.

i also want to thank @bigtiddythanos @raraeavesmoriendi and @maximoffwxnda for supporting me throughout this writing process <3 this fic literally would not have been finished or published without y'all

ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

The rain has ended. Morose, you stare up at the ceiling, wondering when you’ll get something close to free reign with your voice again. 

Of course the world had to end while you were at fucking Whole Foods.

You’ll miss certain things. Things you always took for granted, that you never even considered made a lot of noise until now. Typing on the computer. Making stir fry. Microwaving a burrito at 3am. Lighting a match, washing your face. Taking a shower.

And other things, too, that are more obvious, like singing while making cookies. Slurping the bottom of a milkshake. You’ll never be able to have a pet bird. You’ll never be able to see another concert again, and damn it if you didn’t really want those Glastonbury tickets a month ago. But it all just seems trivial, now. You don’t see why you shouldn’t just lay here on the couch forever. 

On the other side of the coffee table there’s a gentle shuffling. Eric rouses as quietly as he can; at the very least, your apartment creates a hospitable enough environment that he isn’t startled awake. It’s so silent in the apartment that you can hear the slight shift in his intake of breath, the rustle of the pillow as he turns his head to look at you. 

You want to look at him, but you fear that you’ll end up wanting to talk. So, you say nothing. You do nothing. You stare at the white paint on the ceiling and you wonder whether it would be better to get on one of the boats headed out into the water, or to move inland, away from people, away from sound. There has to be somewhere far enough away from the city that the… creatures won’t go, right?

Eric waves his hand in your periphery, so that you have no choice but to acknowledge that you know he’s awake. You have no choice but to turn your head and look into the depths of his eyes, and feel all the pain of the last 48 hours return to you. You’d been able to talk last night, just enough, in time with the rain and the thunder– enough to learn that he has family across the world. 

You can’t imagine knowing that somewhere, across an ocean and half a world away, your parents may or may not be dead. No way to contact them, no way to know what’s become of them. You can’t even begin to fathom the fear that he’s feeling, as much as you’re despairing. 

Eric’s big eyes tell you everything. Sadness and fear, and trying to grasp at the smallest hint of normalcy he can get. He blinks at you, and mouths, You okay?

No, you’re definitely not okay. Things are not okay. Things are broken and can’t be fixed. Things will never be the same again. He knows that, as much as you know that. But you nod anyway, even though you feel your heart beat a little bit slower than usual, like it wants to just go ahead and give up already. Tears prick at your eyes, and you have to close them before you let on that you’re lying.

Eric knows you’re lying, of course. How could anyone be okay, in this kind of situation? But he waits until you open your eyes, and then he mouths, Coffee?

You let out a small sigh of relief, and a smile that’s indescribably warm crosses your face. Even though he can’t make a sound, he knows exactly what to say.

You don’t have a coffee maker that doesn’t also make a ton of noise. But through some kind of witchcraft, Eric quietly empties two k-cups into a glass measuring cup and boils a soup pot full of water on the stove, and suddenly you have hot coffee in front of you. 

On a notepad left on the counter, you write, Wish I had some tea for you. 

Eric’s lips turn up at the edges, and he takes the pen from you. You’re able to doctor your coffee for about one second before he slides the notepad back to you.

Bloody American.

Your ensuing huff of a laugh is enough to make him turn pink around the ears, and he turns to place the dirty measuring cup into the sink. He reaches for the faucet, but then thinks better of it. You’ll have to figure out how to wash the dishes later.

You both drink your coffee in silence on the couch. You never considered yourself uncomfortable with silence; you’ve lived alone, you’ve gone for weeks without uttering a word before. But it’s so difficult to be sitting next to someone– someone you feel you could really get to like– and not be able to say a word. To make a sound, laugh or cry or snort or grunt. 

You’ll never be able to know what Eric’s laugh sounds like, or listen to his favorite song with him, or watch some stupid rerun of Friends with him while ignoring your responsibilities. He’s right there next to you, he’s risked his life to save you once already, and yet he’s so far away. You’ll never get to know him in all the ways you want to. Will you ever really know him at all?

He’d created a diversion when one of the fucking things had you trapped in a corner, between a dumpster and a brick wall. He chucked a rock at a car and set off an alarm, and then ran with you down an alleyway, his arm wrapped tight around your waist. Eric looked so sad, following you like a lost puppy. He was fucking drenched, too, so you know he’d probably been through one hell of a morning. And then the rain started, and the creatures were confused and… well, you weren’t just gonna leave him, scared and alone.

You, too, were scared and alone.

Eric’s hand appears to brush away a tear that had begun to fall down your cheek, betraying your internal monologue. You look to him with puffy eyes, and he pulls his hand away, suddenly unsure of whether you’re okay with such an intimate gesture. 

Your coffee cup meets the table with a quiet tap. You’re slow to move, but you scoot towards him, his arm still outstretched towards you, his eyes wide. Eric has the prettiest eyes in the world, you think. You want to tell him so.

But you’re a little too choked up to form words, anyways. Your forehead meets Eric’s shoulder, and his arm comes around you before you can huff the first silent sob that brims up. He coos softly into your hair, so softly that you can barely hear it, but it conveys enough. It does enough. 

The world is fucked. Your life is fucked. You have tunnel vision and you can only see things getting worse from here on; the only good thing you know anymore is holding you and caressing your head so gently that it pushes your tears out for you. 

You’ll never get to see a movie in a theater, and smell the stale popcorn again. You’ll never drive down the highway with the wind in your hair. You’ll never ride a roller coaster or sing karaoke. You’ll never go to a club and have a drunken heart to heart with a stranger in a bathroom.

“Do you think it’s worth it?” You whisper, so faintly that it’s barely above a breath, your lips pressed to the shell of his ear. “To try to exist in a world where you have to pretend like you don’t exist?”

Eric pauses, holding you to him. You can see the wheels turning in his head, while he tries to figure out what to say. Then he turns his face to put his lips against your ear, the same way you’d done to him. 

“I think it’s worth it to try to survive.” His breath tickles your skin when he whispers, “So survive with me, yeah?”

You nod solemnly, your tears threatening to rise up again. “I can’t stand not talking to you.” It’s so hard to keep your voice from cracking, from rising above the merest hint of a whisper, directly to him and no one or nothing else. 

Eric takes it in stride. “You are talking to me.” He pulls back and bats his eyelashes, and you think, he oughta fucking know what that does to me. 

“Not like this,” you breathe to him, because that’s really what it is– it’s a breath. A sigh. A gust of air and nothing else, barely anything that registers on your vocal chords. Your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him close to you. His hand, tightening on the middle of your back, holding you there. “I want to talk– I want to get to know you.” 

“Well, this isn’t so bad, is it?” Eric turns his head. His forehead nudges yours at the temple, and you swear you see a flash of a smile on his face. “What do you want to know?” 

His forefinger traces up and down, up and down, a gentle pattern that keeps you grounded. You bite your lip, trying to keep from letting the sounds come out too loud. You say the first thing that comes to mind. “What’s your favorite song?”

“Easy Living. Billie Holiday.” 

“You’re kidding.” You’re blushing, hot in the cheeks. You’re imagining it; slow dancing in the kitchen with him while oldies plays on the radio. You didn’t think such an innocent question would send you spiraling like this, but it hurts worse to know that it will probably never happen.

“Absolutely not.” 

“Somehow… I can’t picture you listening to jazz.” 

“Picture it all you want,” he whispers. Eric swallows, and continues, “My granddad used to have these records, and we used to play them on Christmas. But when– when he died, the records went missing. I couldn’t find the song until a couple years ago,” he explains, and his voice cracks just slightly into a murmur. 

You both freeze. You wait for the sound of creatures coming down the hallway, busting down the walls… nothing happens. You let out a breath, and you pull his face closer to yours. His eyes flick over your face, and you put your lips against his ear. 

“You have to be so quiet. Can you do that for me?” Eric nods in your hands. “I wish we could do anything but this. I wish that we could have met in better circumstances. I wish… I wish I had known you before all of this. I think we would have had a lot of fun. But if this is the only way I can get to know you, and hear your voice now, I’ll take it.” You’re nodding as well now, like you’re trying to convince yourself of it. “I’m telling you this because I don’t know how long we have. Together, I mean. And I don’t want to waste it passing notes. Okay?” 

“Okay.” He sounds clipped. His hand fidgets on your back, and you pull away to find him misty-eyed, his brows turned up. He fishes for words that don’t come, and then he nods. “Okay.” 

Neither of you move. The atmosphere around you feels heavy, like it’s pressing in on all sides. Eric’s hand slides up your back and to your face, and you remember that you’re still holding his. You’re near sitting in his lap with how close you’ve become, and the realization of that feels like a punch to the gut.

You think you should pull away. You don’t. 

Eric’s thumb traces a gentle arc across your bottom lip. It’s so featherlight it’s barely there– his eyes are honed in on your mouth, clearly lost in thought. You’d let him stay there as long as he wants, but you want every minute you can get. “Eric–”

He closes the gap and kisses you. The way you’d said his name– or not said it, rather, you sort of mouthed it against his thumb– had done the job you wanted it to. It feels like this was the obvious conclusion to the system you’d worked out, the close proximity and your shared fears. He’s scared, he said as much last night. You’re scared, you said so just now. 

Nowhere to go, nothing else to do except be right here, living. Alive, together. Kissing Eric, and him pulling you close by the waist, so that you do swing your leg and seat yourself in his lap. And as much as you love talking, and it breaks your heart that you can’t jabber at him, there are some things you just can’t put into words. Like the way that his hand on the back of your neck lights you up inside, or that you can’t think of anything other than all the areas where his skin is touching yours, and how you suddenly wish there was way more of them.

It’s stupid how much you like him already, really. You can feel your nonexistent friends clucking their tongues and shaking their heads, saying, “One day? That’s all it takes? You find some guy at the end of the world and you fall in love in 24 hours?” And they’d be right– maybe it’s not love. Not yet, anyways. But you could see it easily becoming that. And that fact scares you even more.

Your hands find Eric’s chest and the frantic beating of his heart tells you nearly the same thing. You break the kiss, trying to quietly catch your breath without gasping like you’re half-drowning. It’s harder than you expected. 

“Been wanting to do that all morning,” Eric whispers. And just like that you’re falling again, faster this time, like he’s just melted your wings right off and sent you plummeting.

You struggle to keep from gasping aloud when he kisses your jaw, just beneath your ear. It’s the lightest touch but you swear it burns, sears your skin. 

Your hands find the back of the couch, twitchy fingers digging in to keep you steady. Your mouth finds his again, his tongue tasting of coffee, and Eric kisses you a bit harder now, a bit sloppier. 

Breaking away, you open your eyes to find his wide, starstruck, his mouth hanging open like he’s been shocked beyond belief. You didn’t honestly intend for this to happen– you wanted to talk. But somehow this seems better, more appropriate. 

How do you get your feelings across when talking isn’t really an option? When innocent attraction becomes… whatever this is? 

You press a single finger to his plush lips, signaling exactly what you mean without a word. Quiet. 

Eric purses his lips, kisses your finger without breaking eye contact. His pupils are blown out so far that the barest hint of golden brown surrounds them, glinting in the sunlight from the window. 

You lean forward, until your mouth touches his ear. “Your eyes are so fucking pretty, Eric,” you whisper to him, and your teeth latch onto his earlobe to tug gently. You can’t help it– you grind your hips down into his lap, without even thinking of doing it. “You’re so pretty.”

Eric whimpers. It’s a soft sound, hollow in the back of his throat, but it’s still too loud for the world that you’re in. You clamp your hand down over his mouth, and his breath comes out sharp and hot over your knuckles as he tries to regain composure.

“Do you want me to stop?” You ask him, whispering gently in his ear. Against you, he shakes his head no. “Want me to keep going?” Eric nods his head yes. 

He’s shaking under you, his fingertips digging into your lower back like he can’t hold onto you hard enough. At the thought, your pulse pounds, blood positively humming through your veins. 

You nuzzle his cheek, and give him the sweetest kiss you can while your hand is still clamped over his mouth insistently. “You have to be. Fucking. Silent. Do you understand?” He nods. “We can’t make a sound. Okay?” 

Eric nods again, and keeps nodding until you let him go. If the rain was still pouring like earlier, you could tell him how much you want him, too. How you don’t want to be mean, you just don’t want to get hurt. This is a bad idea, all things considered. But Eric slides his hand down and cups your ass to lift you up a bit, and the words bad and idea suddenly fucking vanish from your vocabulary.

You stand long enough to kick off your sweats, your day old panties going down with them. You hadn’t dressed to be sexy yesterday, you dressed to get groceries. You don’t necessarily want Eric to see your faded cotton underwear with the stretched out elastic and multiple frayed holes. You don’t think it would add to your sex appeal right now. 

He doesn’t notice the lack of a strip tease– he’s already taking you by the hips, not even waiting for you to shuck your t-shirt. He pulls until you’re stood in front of him, and then hooks your leg over his shoulder. 

So. Eric doesn’t need to be asked to go down on you, he just does. The gentleman. His hands are firm on your ass as he nuzzles into the patch of hair between your legs, and the precarious balancing act makes you snatch onto the back of the couch again. 

His tongue glides through the folds of your pussy slowly, methodically. You aren’t sure if he wants to take his time, or if he’s going slow so that he doesn’t make too much noise when doing it, but he latches onto your clit and sucks agonizingly softly, like he knows he should do it harder but won’t risk making you moan. 

It’s so gentle, and it builds. Pretty soon, you’re having a tough time keeping your whimpers in, even when he’s basically just teasing you, flicking his tongue over your clit with even the barest pressure. Your head has fallen back on your shoulders, your hand now clasped over your own mouth to stifle your sighs. 

Then, Eric’s hand glides up to splay across your lower back, and he sucks long and hard at your clit, and your hand squeezes murderously at the back of the couch while you ride out your orgasm on his tongue. 

Knees buckling, you collapse into Eric’s lap. He has a doe-eyed look on his face that’s way too innocent after what he just did to you. With panting breath and shaking hands, you cup his rosy cheeks in your palms, shaking your head in disbelief. 

Eric’s brows tilt in worry, like he did something wrong. He opens his mouth, but you put your fingers against his lips to silence him, and lean forward to breathe, “You’re too sweet for me, Eric.” 

He traces his fingers lightly up your spine, and turns his head. “Maybe one day I won’t have to be sweet. Maybe then I can really fuck you.” 

The sound of his whispering voice in your ear makes you shiver, your lust reaching a boiling point. The idea of him really fucking you– that this isn’t even him as normal, that he’s having to hold so much back– makes you burn hot all at once. That this isn’t something he’s planning on doing once. That there’s a ‘one day’ that he sees in the future with you in it. 

With a nod, your breath catches in your throat. You find your way to his mouth again, kissing him desperately. You can taste yourself lingering on his lips, and your hips rock forward against his again. 

Eric inhales sharply, stifling his own moan. You guess you have to take it just as slowly as he did, ease him into it. You work your hand beneath his unbuttoned fly and palm him, keeping your touch gentle against his hot skin. He shakes, his hands laid out against your spine, his eyes sparkling when he looks up at you. 

You push your forehead against his as you sink onto his cock, letting yourself adjust to his size. His breath stutters as he tries to keep quiet, small puffs of air spilling out and meeting your electrified skin. You curl your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, rocking your hips just barely, settling into his lap. 

This is more intimate than you can ever remember being with anyone, but right now it just feels right. Maybe it could be cathartic to fuck like a couple of animals in the face of doom, but Eric pulls your body flush against his, one strong forearm around your waist, and his nose nudges yours, and you think this is better. This is what you both need. Closeness. Sweetness. 

There isn’t a lot of movement– you can’t risk it. You and Eric seem to be in agreement on that, because as soon as you start trying to move in earnest, he just pulls you back to him, his arm around your waist and his hand petting the back of your head. 

Eric rocks his hips up into yours slowly, deeply, and it’s the depth of it and the slow sensuality that keeps you floating. Your clit catches on the patch of hair at the base of his cock each time you roll your hips with him, and you have to kiss him to keep from keening aloud. He doesn’t seem to mind it. 

You know he’s close when he tucks his face against your neck, his arm tightening around you. “Feels so fucking good,” comes his whine in your ear, and you gently shush him, your hand resting on the back of his head to keep him muffled against your shoulder. You want so badly to look at his face when he cums, but there’s that pesky issue of staying alive, and that hinges on whether or not he can keep quiet when he does. 

To his credit, he bites your shoulder and only whimpers a little bit. It’s just a squeak, but really, he could have been much louder about it, and then you would have both been in trouble. Imagine having to run for your life with your pants down. 

Ever the gentleman, he keeps you there even after he’s spent and sensitive, his hand clamped down on your thigh to prevent you from moving. His thumb finds your clit, and he lifts his head to watch you, his hooded eyes trained on your face as he brings you to the edge and over it again. He watches the way your brows tilt up, the way you struggle to keep your own eyes open, and the silent moan that threatens to break past your parted lips.

Eric claps his hand down over your mouth before it can. Your eyes fly open, your cunt clenches down around him, and he bares his teeth as you cum hard. It’s cyclical, comes in waves as he continues to stroke you through it, as he keeps his hand clamped down on your mouth to keep you quiet. 

To keep you quiet. 

Feverish and exhausted, you come down with your chest against his, Eric’s head flopped back onto the backrest of the couch. Your knees fucking hurt and you have yet to get off of him, and you sort of dread the moment when you have to. But this means your mouth is positioned right next to Eric’s ear, and you’re nothing if not a talker.

“Eric?” you whisper, and he turns his head just enough to let you know he heard you. “I’m glad that I met you when I did. Even if it’s terrible timing, I’m glad we met.”

A sweet, tired smile flits across Eric’s beautiful face. He nudges his nose against your temple. “I’m glad, too.” 

You shift off of him, and he squeezes your thigh just at the same time as he scrunches his face. He’s such a trooper about it, you kiss his cheek as you go, leaning over to grab a pair of earphones from the coffee table. 

You hand one ear bud to him, watching as confusion crosses his face. He watches you type on your phone as he tucks the bud into his ear, and you the other. 

On low volume, you listen to the soft piano and saxophone intro to an old jazz standard. Eric grins, his hand finding your cheek before he pulls you in for a kiss. 

And then, Billie Holiday’s voice plays for only you two to hear. 

Living for you is easy living, It’s easy to live when you’re in love And I’m so in love, There’s nothing in life but you.

[ak319]

Yan Regent Consort x fem reader

Headcanon

(Warnings: This story contains matriarchal themes, fem dom such as mpreg, fem dominated world, role reversal, and BXG pairing! Yes, it's a boy x girl, so don't interact if you are not comfortable!!)

Xu Junlai was a boy who held different roles in the eyes of others, son to some, friend to some, an object of admiration or envy to others. He was born into a family of five sons and two daughters. His mother, Xu Huang, served as a minister in the court, while his father, Xu... well, he wasn’t married into the Xu family, he was merely a concubine of Junlai’s mother. Because of this, Junlai never received familial love, not from his step-siblings and not even from his mother, who was always either too busy or uninterested in family matters. Her absence from his life gave his brothers free rein to treat him as they pleased.

His oldest sibling was his sister, Xu Tai, whom everyone feared. She didn’t particularly dote on him, but she maintained order in the household whenever she returned from her training and service in the army. Xu Tai had high ambitions for the country, aspiring one day to become a commander or much better a General. His other sister, Xu Ai, was studying to be a scholar; she was a year older than Junlai, who himself was the second youngest in the family.

Junlai had long learned that if he didn’t stand up for himself and speak for himself, he would live a life of misery and eventually die alone, perhaps with no one to mourn his passing. So, he did speak for himself when necessary. A hard life had forced him into this role. It wasn’t as if anyone liked him before, or that he had earned any respect, so what was there to lose?

He had passions that he quietly pursued, calligraphy, reading books, sneakily borrowing them from Tai’s library at the estate and, most importantly, dancing. Yet he was made fun of, and ridiculed for his interests.

“Your father was a prostitute, and you doing this seems to scream that you are on the same path. You disgrace,” his stepfather, Xu Fen, sneered. But his words never truly hurt Junlai.

“But your sons are learning such skills too. Are they on the same path?”

“THEY ARE NOT! They are doing that so that when the time arises, they will be presented to the court for the new Empress and her harem. That is where their skills will shine; being a Xu, that is inevitable. You, however…”

“Mother may not have married my father, but she openly acknowledged that I have been granted the name Xu.”

“So? What are you--oh--so you want to enter the court? That might be the funniest thing I’ve heard this week. Part of the reason your presence here is sometimes bearable. Have you seen yourself? There is nothing graceful about you, such venomous features, that blank face, eyes like a devil’s. You are someone any woman would avoid, not bed.” Fen’s cackles echoed in the distance as Junlai stood in the garden, his usual blank expression firmly in place.

The court? But he didn’t desire any of that. That was a life of hell. As if my life is better now... Harem or no harem, at least he could demonstrate his skills and take a jab at his useless brothers. Perhaps that was the most thrilling part of it all. There was absolutely no chance that an Empress or even the Emperor Dowager would allow the son of a prostitute to enter the harem.

So, Junlai practised night after night, in the empty hall that felt both sacred and suffocating. The flickering candles cast shadows that danced like ghosts on the walls, whispering secrets of long-forgotten elegance. The sound of anklets chimed like distant bells, while the rustle of silken fabric filled the air, wrapping around him like a lover’s embrace. In the dim light, his body became a fluid extension of art, each movement imbued with a haunting beauty that could draw anyone into his graceful orbit. And perhaps, just perhaps, the voice that emerged from his lips was powerful enough to ensnare even the coldest of hearts.

But one fateful night, when he miraculously received permission from his mother to join the ceremony, everything changed. Three of his brothers discovered him lost in his usual routine, an ethereal vision in the half-light. As always, he expected their laughter, their scorn, but no... that night, the hall, once a sanctuary, transformed into a chamber of horrors.

Instead of melodies, the air was filled with his screams as they pinned him down, the laughter of his brothers echoing like a dark symphony. They poured scalding water over his feet, the pain searing through him, brutal and unrelenting--just a week before the ceremony.

═════ ◈ ═════

The day of the ceremony arrived, and you, the new Empress, had only been on the throne for a year after successfully defeating your sisters for the throne. However you were overwhelmed by the throng of men entering your court, you sat in silence, your mind already planning the next day's work while subtly noting the movements and behaviours of your court members.

The musical festivities began, likely your father's favorite part, as it allowed him to exert his influence over the affairs of the men. You had little energy to deal with such trivialities, and the classification of men in this way unsettled you. Your mother was deeply involved in it all, and you loathed the thought of it.

"Those are the sons of the Xu family, good-looking, aren't they?" your father remarked, his voice dripping with expectation. Your head snapped to his direction, and for a fleeting moment, you glanced at the display before you.

“Um, yes,” you replied, your tone devoid of enthusiasm.

Your father internally rolled his eyes at your lacklustre response. You might have bedded a few men and have a son with one of the concubines, but it was clear you weren’t taking any of them seriously. 'This idiot daughter of mine, clearly not worried about not having an heir still. By now your mother would have had three-'

"They came for you, so at least enjoy it a bit. If you prefer any changes, the music, the dance-"

"It's fine, Father. It's fine."

You granted your approval to Xu Huang in the end, an honest minister in your eyes, someone even your mother trusted. Her daughter, Tai, was a formidable warrior, perhaps the first to impress you with her skills.

As dinner commenced, no one anticipated the doors to swing open once more. A lone figure stepped into the hall, drawing everyone's attention, including yours. He was slender, his long hair tousled—surprisingly beautiful even in such disarray. Those eyes of his, empty yet hauntingly deep, bore into yours with an intensity that both intrigued and unsettled you.

His walk was seductive yet exuded an aura of defeat and determination. Silence enveloped the hall, a palpable tension as he stood in the centre, commanding attention. That’s when you noticed his feet, bare and crimson. You were certain that if you looked closer, you would see the dark stains of blood marring his skin.

It felt as though the entire court was holding its breath, waiting for you to question him. Just then, you caught the whisper of Xu Huang, “Son…” from her seat a few feet away.

Her son?

"Are you... Xu’s son?" you inquired, your curiosity piqued.

He nodded.

“Um--your Majesty, he was sick, so he couldn't perform earlier, although his name was registered on the list by me…” Xu Huang explained, her voice steady yet tinged with concern. You responded with a curt nod, your mind racing.

“If you are sick, then you shouldn’t be here,” you asserted, a protective instinct rising within you. You were certain the sickness plagued his feet. There was no way you would allow him to dance under such conditions.

“I want to dance,” he replied, his voice challenging and unwavering.

The spark in his tone caught you off guard. What an odd boy...

“Very well. Then do. I would like to see you dance,” you commanded, a blend of intrigue fluttering in your chest

“Your Majes-” Xu Huang began, but your glare silenced her immediately.

“Begin.”

As the sounds of the pipa and hulusi filled the hall, an almost electric hush fell over the audience. Everyone shifted their attention from their meals to the boy dancing, his presence so captivating that even your father, Wang Hua, sat bewildered. A simmering anger brewed within him as he grappled with his own intrigue. Are you seriously interested in him?

Though Hua possessed some knowledge about the boy, witnessing the fluidity and artistry of his dance made those thoughts melt away. Junlai moved as if in a trance, each motion a hauntingly beautiful expression that stirred something deep within you. The performance was mesmerizing, drawing you into a world that felt both ethereal and painfully real.

The only glimmer of envy and fury came from Junlai’s own brother and step-father, their faces twisted in disdain as they seethed at the spectacle before them. Even the blood that dripped from Junlai’s feet onto the glass-like floor seemed to only heighten their ire. They couldn’t maintain your gaze for even a moment, while Junlai seemed to command the room effortlessly, as if reigning over it with merely a flick of his wrist.

As the final echoes of Junlai’s performance faded, your ears, now deprived of the boy’s beautiful voice, were met once again with a profound silence that enveloped the hall.

Junlai stood with his gaze cast down, a picture of humility, while you rose from the podium, taking slow, deliberate steps toward him. A ripple of anticipation swept through the crowd, their eyes wide with curiosity about what would unfold next. To your surprise, the boy barely flinched as you stood before him, towering over his slight frame.

“Name?” you inquired, your voice steady.

“Junlai,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

“And who did this to you...?” You leaned closer, searching his eyes for the truth.

His neutral gaze met yours, and you sensed a flicker of vulnerability beneath his composed exterior.

“People... whom I would rather not talk about on such a glorious day... a day for you, my Majesty.” He lowered himself in a respectful bow, his head tilting downward, yet his posture remained defiantly graceful.

“Is that so...?” you mused, glancing at Naun, your attendant, who stood discreetly behind a pillar to your left. She nodded subtly, understanding the unspoken command in your gaze.

This boy not only is now part of your harem but...your choice for the night.

You were resolute, you would not entertain the other sons of the Xu family. What need had you for them? Junlai’s dance eclipsed all of theirs combined, a testament to his raw talent and spirit. You were not greedy, you simply sought the best. And he was not only the best but also intriguingly peculiar, a captivating boy you were eager to indulge in and explore further.

As you crawled on top of him, Junlai had been cleaned and prepared for your gaze, yet a small part of you missed his disheveled appearance, the wild, untamed beauty that spoke of his struggles. You soothed yourself with the reminder that he would soon return to that captivating state.

“When I asked you about the culprits, you didn’t name them. You don’t want me to punish them?” you murmured, your fingers brushing gently against his cheek, relishing the softness of his skin as he leaned into your rough hand.

“But you already have... by choosing me,” he replied, a hint of defiance in his voice. You couldn’t help but chuckle, the sound deep and rich. “You are... something, you know. I have never encountered a boy like you... but I always wanted to.”

“I never wanted this... to be in the bed of an empress, in her harem, but here I am…” His words hung in the air, laced with a surprising confidence. Something about you made him bold enough to voice such thoughts. You didn’t seem as cold and cruel as the whispers suggested, those comparisons to your mother fading in the warmth of his gaze.

Your deep chuckle reverberated against his neck, sending shivers coursing through his body. “Oh, how lucky I am then. More fortunate than any empress, for having caught you.” You pulled away slightly to meet his eyes, searching for the flicker of fear, but finding only intrigue. “Being in a harem means being mine, and I take care of what I own.”

“Do you fear me, Junlai?” you asked, your voice a sultry whisper that sent shivers down his spine. “You should...."

His heart raced at the challenge in your tone. “I don’t fear you, your Majesty. I only fear what I might become under your rule,” he replied, daring to meet your intense gaze.

“Ah, but isn’t that the thrill of it all?” You leaned in closer, your lips brushing tantalizingly against his ear as you spoke. A gasp left his plump lips as you nibbled on it.

Junlai’s breath quickened as your gaze pierced into him, as if you were seeing not just the boy he was but the depths of his soul. The air thickened with an intoxicating blend of fear and desire. He could feel the heat radiating from your body, enveloping him in a cocoon of both safety and peril.

Your fingers danced down his arm, tracing delicate patterns that ignited his skin, setting his nerves alight. Junlai's breath hitched as he felt the heat of your body press against him, a heady mix of power and vulnerability.

“Do you see how beautifully broken you are?” you continued, your voice low and mesmerizing.

Junlai felt the walls around his heart tremble, caught in the magnetic pull of your words. “What do you want from me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, the challenge now tinged with uncertainty.

“Everything.” Your lips curled into a wicked smile, a promise of the chaos to come. “I want your loyalty, your obedience, and most importantly, your heart. I will not only keep you in my harem, I will make you my most cherished treasure.”

As you leaned closer again, your lips tantalizingly brushing against his, he could feel the weight of your intentions, his robe being done deftly by your rough fingers. “Now, are you ready to dance for me?” you asked, your eyes glinting with mischief and hunger."

Junlai nodded, a flicker of excitement igniting within him. At that moment, he was no longer just a boy marked by pain, he was a dancer, ready to twirl and leap into the unknown, to be claimed by you.

═════ ◈ ═════

Junlai sat in the veranda, gazing out at the distant mountains with a forlorn expression, his slender fingers tapping absently on the polished wooden rail. Though the quarters designated for the favored concubine were lavish, adorned with silks and priceless porcelain, the space felt hollow without you. If only he could give you a daughter, the coveted title of consort would be his. The thought flitted through his mind like an unreachable dream. And yet, as the days stretched into months, it was your absence that gnawed at him, leaving him restless and aching.

God, when would you return from the campaign? Two months had passed, each day heavier than the last. He endured the whispers, and the scorn from the other concubines who mocked him for his damaged feet, but he bore it all without flinching. He knew you valued him for his skill, his grace, the things that went beyond mere perfection. You had appointed the empire's finest healers to tend to him, a silent reassurance that he still held a place in your heart.

Even the Emperor Dowager, shrewd and discerning, seemed to favour him, perhaps because he respected his daughter's choices or was mesmerized by his art. Either way, his endorsement granted him a measure of safety within the harem’s hostile world. And yet, safety was far from his mind. He spent sleepless nights worrying about you, imagining the dangers you might face, each possible harm a dagger in his chest. His own safety meant nothing if you were not there, by his side, safe and triumphant. He danced in the empty hall , every night, all night even. His gaze at the marble wall at the end, imagining you sitting in your throne watching his performance. Every word, every step a testimony for your longing. If anyone else saw him at night , they would be scared for their life.

A boy dancing as if he was possessed.

What had he become? Another lovesick boy, a fool just like his father, infatuated, aching, lost to his devotion. He had once vowed never to become so vulnerable, and yet here he was, the intensity of his love binding him more than duty or obligation ever could. He used to revel in this power, at first motivated by pride, even defiance, to show his brothers that he had won something they could never touch. But now, with every beat of his heart, every drop of his blood, he was wholly, helplessly, irrevocably yours.

Although not long ago, one significant shift rippled through the palace, Xu Tai, the skilled warrior whose loyalty you trusted, was now appointed as General. Junlai took comfort in this news. His sister's allegiance was unwavering, and her impressive abilities spoke for themselves. You chose her for her skill and integrity, qualities Junlai respected, and even admired from afar. He knew that with Tai at the helm, your interests, and your life, were in capable hands.

He hadn’t anticipated finding peace in such a development, yet knowing Tai held this position gave him a strange sense of relief. However when he just received a letter from Tai herself, that sense of relief seemed to diminish.

You had been poisoned by an arrow at the battlefield. Thankfully the physician present did their best to take it out but it was unknown if you would come back alive. The news was also sent to the Emperor and eventually spread over the harem and then the country.

The news struck the palace like a tempest. Word spread first as whispers in dimly lit corridors, then as gasps behind silken fans, until eventually, the rumours became cries of despair from every corner of the empire. The Empress has been poisoned, they said, her life teetering on the edge. The harem held its breath, the concubines offering quiet prayers. Yet amidst them all, Junlai felt as though his entire world had shattered.

Days passed in agonizing limbo, and Junlai clung to any scrap of information he could gather. The air in his chambers grew thick with dread, the whispers of the other concubines like needles against his skin. Would she return? Could she survive this? He tried to still his racing heart, to banish the wretched possibilities that plagued him day and night, but his mind clung stubbornly to images of your pale face, the way you looked as he’d last seen you, strong, assured, untouchable.

But now, you were mortal. Wounded. Vulnerable.

He’d never felt so powerless. Each night he would sit in the garden, his injured feet barely feeling the cold stone beneath them as he gazed at the stars, praying fervently for your safety. Let her come back to me, he whispered into the darkness. Take my health, my strength, take anything you want, but let her live.

The news of the looming threat reached the palace in the dead of night, casting a shadow over an already grief-stricken palace. The Chief Minister summoned her closest advisors including Xu Huang, the walls of the council chamber echoing with grave voices as they strategized. The Wei Dynasty had betrayed them, their forces striking not only on the battlefield but now threatening the heart of the empire, taking advantage of your absence. This insidious plot was spearheaded by the rebel leader Guo Wang, a lecherous woman of ruthless ambition and bloodthirsty intent. Her name alone sent ripples of fear through the court, her reputation for savagery preceding her.

The capital was left vulnerable in a way it hadn’t been for years. With Tai, your most loyal and capable General, at your side on the battlefield, and your position as Empress left temporarily vacant, the capital was guarded only by lesser warriors and the remaining commanders, a force barely sufficient for an ambush of this scale.

Junlai’s despair deepened. He had kept his composure in the wake of your injury, holding fast to the hope that you would return to him. But now the looming threat to the capital turned that sorrow into fear and fury. He knew what would come if Guo Wang breached the palace walls, the carnage that woman would wreak upon all in her path. The court, the innocents of the capital, and, he shuddered, the vulnerable harem.

He understood now what his sister had never fully articulated, the key to victory was not in repeating the old ways, but in disrupting the enemy's expectations. And Guo Wang’s forces? They would be expecting the standard defences. They would expect the palace to hide behind walls, women in armour standing guard at every gate. That was their mistake. Junlai knew better. But being a man and more so a mere consort was something that Junlai couldn't change. Nobody would listen to him. Two weeks left before the Guo reaches them even if Tai had sent for backup to the capital, it would have taken them a bit longer to get here.

No, he would not let this slide. The audacity to kill you , trying to take you AWAY FROM HIM!?. He will fucking lay corpses upon corpses of these disgusting pieces of filth. He will BURN EVERYTHING TO THE GROUND!

"I will not rest until I see you fall, Guo Wang..."

═════ ◈ ═════

"Mother, please. Trust me. You have to listen-"

"Your only job is to stay here, in the harem, and bear her children! Leave the military and court decisions to the court and the Empress."

Xu Huang froze, his chest tightening at the cold dismissal. His mother, ever so pragmatic, always intent on keeping him within the narrow boundaries of what was deemed acceptable for someone of his position. But tonight, he couldn’t bear it anymore. The years of suffocating silence, the weight of expectations that had been placed on him, all of it came crashing down in a wave of defiance.

"BUT I AM DOING THIS FOR THE EMPRESS!" His voice rang out, sharp and unforgiving. Xu Huang recoiled as if struck, the shock of his outburst still fresh in the air. But his fury only seemed to fuel him further. "Her Majesty’s court, her harem... I will not let some barbarian come in and tear it all apart. And don’t forget it, Mother!" He took a step forward, his voice thick with venom, his eyes burning with a passion he hadn’t allowed himself to show before. The tears were a mask, barely held together by his pride.

"I WILL protect her, and I WILL protect this dynasty."

He let his words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of their implications. He stood taller now, a dangerous glint in his eye, as he moved closer, letting the venomous truth seep into every syllable. "As for bearing children, oh sure, I will. But I won’t do it for you. I’ll do it for ME. For MY future. I’ll be elevated, not you. You will always remain a slave to the system, while I may one day be a part of the Wang dynasty. And you know what that could mean." His voice dropped to a low, almost mocking tone. "How do you think Tai became the General? If I can place someone on the board, I can just as easily toss them out."

There was a flicker of uncertainty in Xu Huang’s eyes at the mention of Tai, but it was quickly masked. He knew the truth, he had no such influence, but the bluff was enough. It was enough to make his mother tremble. The stoic, unflinching woman who had held him back his entire life now looked unsure, her hands gripping the edge of the table as if seeking something to steady herself.

"What are you proposing?" Her voice, cold as ever, betrayed the slight quiver in her tone. She had heard his words, but was she truly willing to listen?

Junlai smirked, the edge of triumph curling at the corners of his lips. "Now, we are talking."

═════ ◈ ═════

Junlai had always been more than just a skilled dancer; his mind was a sharp, calculating instrument that never ceased its relentless pursuit of efficiency and innovation. While the others focused on traditional warfare, the old strategies, sieging, ambushing, and brute force, Junlai saw only limitations. What he needed was an advantage that would catch their enemies off guard, something that no one had considered. The answer, as it often was, lay in nature.

Birds.

The idea came to him one evening while he watched the flock of crows circling above the harem. Their wings cutting through the air with precision, their effortless movement, a pattern of chaos within perfect order. It wasn't just the birds that caught his attention, but the fact that they held the power to burn.

In the markets, there had been whispers of incendiary techniques used by distant lands, fire-starting mechanisms using birds trained to carry torches. The court dismissed this concept as superstition, yet to Junlai, it was a brilliant, unrecognised weapon.

Junlai would need to launch the birds at night when the enemy's defences were at their weakest. The element of surprise would be vital, he knew that as soon as the birds were released, they would need to fly directly to their targets, avoiding the natural predators and the dangers of interception. So he had the women train them, following his instructions.

He took advantage of the dark sky, the birds’ natural night-flying abilities, to send them directly into the heart of Guo Wang’s camp. The wind, as if in cooperation with his plan, would be at their backs, ensuring that the fires would spread faster.

The moment the birds were released, the chaos began.

As the trained crows took flight, their wings slicing through the air like silent messengers of destruction, the fire lit up, first softly, then raging. Guo Wang's forces had no warning, no time to react. They watched in horror as the embers from above ignited their tents, their supplies, and worst of all, their weapons.

The women who had been enlisted as fighters, strong in their defiance but unprepared for such an assault, panicked as the fire spread, consuming their weapons and armour. Their leaders scrambled, but the flames had already done the work. The camp was ablaze, confusion and terror rippling through the ranks. The birds had burned their half camp, crippled their supply chain, and taken away the one thing they held most precious, control.

Thus, it made it easier for the soldiers to attack Guo's forces and easily win. Junlai watched with pride as he saw Guo's head impaled and being paraded around inside the castle's walls. A perfect homecoming gift for you. A gift to prove that he was not just a man in your harem, but someone who would do anything to ensure your reign remained unchallenged. Which made him again fall into a pit of worry for your return.

"Her Majesty has returned!" one of the attendants announced, her voice echoing down the hall.

Junlai stood in the corridor of the harem, his heart pounding in his chest. He had not realized how much he had missed you until the news arrived, that you were finally returning from the battlefield, victorious, but at a terrible cost. The victory meant nothing if it came at the cost of your well-being.

He watched from the shadows with along with other concubines as you entered, your face a bit pale but overall with no less than a sturdy and imperial aura. Your steps echoed in the hall as you greeted your father, your son and for a fleeting moment, met his gaze.

His mind was torn between wanting to rush to you and knowing that you would hate such an open display. So, he waited, watching, every fibre of his being aching to be near you.

And you called him finally, after two painful days.

"I... Your Majesty," Junlai's voice cracked slightly, betraying his calm facade. He couldn't hide the flood of emotions that coursed through him, the concern, the longing, the worry. He took another step closer, his voice low, "You came back... but how long will it take until you're truly well again?"

You always held yourself in such high regard, and the idea of being seen as anything less than the Empress was a bitter pill to swallow.

"I am better," you said, your tone firm, but Junlai could see the exhaustion etched into your features. "The battle was won, and my soldiers did well. That's enough for me."

Junlai stood in front of you now, so close that he could reach out and touch you if he dared. His gaze softened even further, and for a moment, the two of you simply stood there, him staring into your eyes, his heart heavy with the thoughts he didn’t dare speak aloud. Then he was finally graced with your embrace causing him to breakdown.

"Whatever it takes. Just... don’t push yourself too hard. You need rest." He whispered getting his act together.

You gestured for him to sat beside you on the bed. "I heard from Father...about what you did." He gulped, his form of being just...a boy in love under your gaze.

"I... I just... couldn't-- I had to! I did it all in fear of what might... happen..." You raised his chin.

"You didn't do it for love, then?"

"Of course I did! I did it for you only!" He grasped your hand against his cheek, his eyes filling with tears, his voice breaking at every word. "You... have no idea... what... torture it was for me to live after knowing that happened to you... my Queen. It was worse than death itself."

A hint of a smile graced your lips. "I am proud of you. I am... proud of my choice too..." You gazed lovingly at his face and wiped his tears, pulling his frail body to your chest. "Tai told me you... always had an interest in warfare... sneaked in to read her books."

His heart stopped. His sister... knew? All this time... she did? Yet she...

"Um... I--- yes." His whole body shivered when your deep chuckle traveled to every cell in his body.

"I have made a... decision."

His hands fisted your tunic in anticipation. "You will be the Regent consort here when I am away. You will manage the harem, manage the safety of the capital, it's people. Charities and all."

Junlai’s heart skipped a beat. His initial instinct was to deny, to say that it was nothing, that he just did his duty and wanted nothing more than to be a mere slave to your love. But the way you spoke to him with a glint of respect, of something more than just duty, it made him pause.

You saw him. Truly saw him.

He swallowed hard, trying to suppress the trembling in his hands, the heat in his chest. Regent consort. The title echoed in his mind like a promise, like a dream he had never dared to imagine. No man had ever had it...it didn't even exist until now. He would be the first man in history to have that. He will be known by every generation to come..

"But--but I... I don't deserve it," he stammered, the weight of your approval sinking into him. "I am... only a concubine, someone who had no right to such a role. You shouldn't place such responsibility on me."

You leaned closer, your fingers brushing against his cheek in a tender gesture, lifting his gaze with a gentle but firm pressure. "You don’t need to deserve it, Junlai," you said softly, your voice carrying the weight of your conviction. "You have already proven your loyalty, your cunning, and your heart."

You emphasized with a small but significant shift in tone, "You are my mind in the harem. You will ensure that my absence does not shake the foundations of this dynasty. You will stand guard over the people, the capital... everything I’ve worked for."

Junlai’s hands clenched tighter around your tunic as he processed the weight of your words. The enormity of the role, the responsibility, it was almost too much. But the way you spoke, the way you believed in him, gave him a strength he didn’t know he had.

"Are you afraid?" you asked, your voice soft but direct, your eyes locked onto his with an intensity that made his knees weak.

He paused, feeling a swirl of emotions churn in his chest. Fear. Desire. Ambition. Hope. They all mixed together until he couldn’t tell where one feeling ended and another began. But he was honest with you, always. "Yes," he said simply. "I am afraid. But if it means standing by your side... I will do whatever it takes."

You smiled at him, a slow, dangerous smile that made his breath catch in his throat. "Good," you said, leaning in closer, your voice dropping to a low murmur and pulled him in for a gentle kiss.

He had never imagined that the harem would become more than just a gilded cage. He had never imagined that he would be the one trusted to hold the reins when you were away. But now, it felt like everything was changing.

He looked up at you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt, any hesitation. But there was none. Only a quiet confidence that he knew, deep down, was meant for him.

"I won’t let you down," he whispered, his voice steady with determination, even as the weight of his new role settled over him like a mantle. "I will protect everything you’ve built, Empress. And I will make sure that no one dares challenge your rule."

You let out a satisfied sigh, your fingers trailing down the length of his arm as you leaned back, taking in the sight of him, your trusted consort, your mind in the harem.

His eyes softened, and for the first time since the battle, since everything had changed, he felt a flicker of peace settle in his chest. There was no going back now. But for the first time, he didn’t want to. He had you. And that was all that mattered.

Junlai leaned into you then, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath steadying as he let himself savor the moment, the moment where everything shifted, where he was no longer just a boy in your harem but the one who would protect everything you held dear.

Though, he mustn't forget one last thing~~

═════ ◈ ═════

"Ju-nlai?" Xu Fen stammered, his face twisting into an expression of disbelief. The boy, no, the boy, who once knelt before him, who had suffered beneath his cruelty, now stood in front of him as a figure that exuded nothing but cold authority. The sight rattled Fen to his core.

Junlai’s gaze locked onto him, dead and distant, as though he were staring through him. “I came to meet my brothers,” he said, his voice as calm as the still waters of a lake, but carrying the weight of a storm hidden just beneath the surface.

“Oh really? Why is that?” Fen’s words dripped with thinly veiled disdain, though his insides were anything but calm. He took a cautious step backward, uncertain of what Junlai intended. The boy had always been an afterthought, a lesser player in the family’s schemes. But that had changed, and Fen knew it.

Junlai’s eyes flickered over the room, moving like cold knives, and finally settled on the women standing behind him. His gaze was hollow, merciless. “Are you going to bring them out, or...?" His words trailed off, but the implication was clear. He wasn’t asking, he was commanding. His tone had a chilling finality, as though the fate of everyone in that room rested solely in his hands now.

Fen felt the air constrict around him, the tension thickening with each passing second. He swallowed hard, unable to hide his discomfort. With a reluctant sigh and a sour expression, he turned on his heel and went to summon the others, though it pained him to do so. He knew it was futile to resist. The man who stood in his mansion now was not the boy he had once controlled but something far more dangerous.

Minutes passed, each one dragging as Fen stood nervously, but when the Xu brothers arrived, they entered with a mixture of curiosity and defiance. They were offended, of course, by Junlai’s sudden appearance, but there was a deeper undercurrent of fear in their eyes

"Same as always..." Junlai murmured to himself, but his smile, if it could even be called that, was something else entirely. It was a sharp, knowing grin, filled with something dangerous. His voice rose, becoming almost melodic in its dark amusement. "Which is going to make it more fun!"

For the first time in the Xu household, the black sheep of the family, Junlai, let out a laugh, but it was no ordinary laugh. It was a hollow, manic laugh that seemed to echo off the walls. The sound was unsettling, almost inhuman, a reminder of the twisted journey that had led him to this moment.

Junlai’s eyes never left them as he spoke again, his voice low and chilling. “You see… I’ve come to remind you what happens when you think you can break me. You’ve burned me before… but now, I’m going to return the favour.”

Fen’s heart skipped a beat. He had always thought he could control Junlai, keep him beneath his bootheel. He had been wrong.

“Now, I think it’s time for you to understand what it feels like.”

It took one subtle gesture from Junlai and the guards moved quickly, and efficiently, grabbing the Xu brothers and laying them down on the floor. Their hands were bound, their legs spread wide, and Junlai’s eyes glinted with a dangerous gleam as he stepped closer, his boots making a soft but deliberate thud with each step. The room seemed to grow colder.

"No--p-please...forgive them...NO! I BEG YOU!" Fen's voice mixed with his son's pleas as well which earned him a slap from Junlai. That was all it took to reduce them to sobs and whimpers.

"Shut your fucking mouth, whore. And watch." He dug his hands into Fen's hair and steadied him beside himself. "Look, how cute they look." He giggled.

The guard poured more water onto the brothers' feet, the boiling liquid now bubbling and splashing as it engulfed their limbs. The screams grew louder, desperate. One of the brothers jerked against his restraints, his body writhing in pain, but there was nowhere to go. Fen could hear their flesh sizzling, the sound of raw skin peeling and blistering under the scalding heat. He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. He had put them through this once before. Now it was his turn to witness the consequences. God, he always loved fire and its power. In fact, he began to see himself in it. Agile, dangerous, unyielding and most importantly, passionate when it came to you.

Fen watched, trembling, as the heat of the water burned into the skin of his sons. Junlai stood tall, his form casting a long shadow over the brothers writhing in pain, and spoke in a voice that resonated with unrelenting authority: “Let this be a reminder, boys." As he turned to leave, his guards following behind him, the sound of his laughter lingered in the air, a dark, triumphant melody that filled the hearts of those who heard it with dread.

Now is the turn of some concubines who have been acting up recently in your absence. Surely, they won't mind a little visit, right?

"Everyone stresses out your father soo much, don't they?" He cooed , caressing his flat abdomen as he settled in the carriage.

Nevertheless, it's all entertainment for him.

[anantaru]

・✶ ｡ synopsis — fucking your enemy doesn't really sound like a good plan or wait, maybe it does! <3

warnings — enemies to lovers, fingering, playful childe, fem! reader

childe always approaches you with that damn smirk on his face, his gaze intense and unwavering, a sprinkle of confidence playing on his lips.

the harbinger had always been your enemy, the embodiment of danger and excitement, and despite the many battles the both of you had fought, you couldn't lie to yourself but admit that there was an undeniable pull between you— a connection you refused to acknowledge, even to yourself at times.

"ah, you fought well today," childe's was barely out of breath as he throws his hands up in the air to feign defeat, his voice low and husky, a dangerous edge to his tone, "but you're not as strong as you think you are, heh."

without batting your lashes, you glare back at him with your body tense of anger, every single nerve inside on edge, "—and you're still as arrogant as ever, childe."

fuck, how much he adored it whenever you showed him a little of your sweet temper, it's a little salty too but he doesn't mind that— in fact, it gets him going and arouses something deep below.

naturally his smirk widens the moment you say it, his eyes darkening with something far more primal that he'd originally let on, "me? arrogant? oh am i? or am i just confident?"

you roll your eyes and before you could even find a good enough response, he instantly closes the distance between you in a swift stride— without haste, folding your spirit in half with his presence becoming overwhelming.

in an attempt to turn around and leave his hand grabs towards your arm, gripping your wrist with a surprising gentleness that was never experienced before by you, yet with the strength you've known far too well, one that left no room for escape.

"you think you can hide it from me? i can see it in your eyes, you know," he murmurs underneath his heightened breathing, slanting towards your face closer and closer until you could feel his warm breath against your ear, "the way you look at me, you see? the way your body reacts when I'm near like that— ugh, you're so shy, but I know you've been dreaming about this, as have i, or haven’t you?"

your heart races at the absurdity in his sentence— or was there even a sprinkle of a lie inside of it? how long until you cannot run from the feelings you harbored for him anymore? or was it simply lust that kept the drive inside of yourself working.

a mixture of fear yet also excitement floods your senses— you really wanted to deny it, to push him away, but the truth was, his words struck a deep chord within you, you're doomed and yes, in fact, you had dreams about him— of feeling him inside you, feeling his cock twitch and thicken while he's grinding himself in you, fucking your tight cunt as the fantasies of surrendering to the raw, forbidden desire consumed you.

you knew he must be good in bed, amazing even, there was no chance in hell that he wasn't with that striking personality of his.

"cut the crap childe, i don't know what you're talking about," you stammer back, but my dear, don't you hear? your voice betrayed you just this second, right in front of his eyes as you began to tremble with the weight of your secret longing dying to be set free.

"oh? but i think you do," he whispers before saying your name so sensually that it felt like someone's set your body on fire.

the man continues as his lips brush against the sensitive skin of your neck;

"you've wanted this for so long, right? this—"

and before you could muster a response, his mouth claims yours in a searing kiss that made your brain rewire, the touch of his lips strong and ruthless as one hand slid up to cup the back of your head, holding you firmly in place.

you weren't surprised by how childe kissed you, in fact, you imagined how it felt like— granted, it was better than you originally fantasized.

the kiss was rough, as if he was looking for an answer, and it shattered the last bit of your very resistance as you kissed him back with equal fervor, your body igniting with a fire you had tried so hard to suppress— yet, was it actually bad that you went against your own beliefs? just this once?

of course, you both were on different sides, supporting different agendas but this— fuck, this, it felt so good, why was the darkness childe expelled so mesmerizing? like biting into a poised apple and still relishing in getting tainted?

the harbingers hands roamed over your body, exploring, claiming, as if he had every right to do this and his touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine before he pushed you against the cold stone wall, the contrast between the cool surface and his heated skin only heightening your needful senses.

although before going further, he abruptly stopped the kiss, at last lapping across your bottom lip and seeking your gaze, "tell me you want this, i need this," he growls against your lips, his hands gripping your hips with a bruising energy, "tell me you've dreamed of this moment too."

you close your eyes and take a deep breath, a shaky whimper escaping your lips as you felt the grip on you tighten. each one of his touch, his breath hitting your skin and his words played into your beating heart and you couldn't, you just weren't able to stop your body from liking this.

your back arches a little as to show him without words, without needing to admit it— right now, you weren't sure if you could ever say it out loud.

like snowfall, his touch was cold, but it felt oddly comforting.

but you let him move forward as one hand slips beneath your clothes, finding your wetness between your thighs, your folds messed up and puffy for him. "childe i— i... i want this too," you admit against your own volition, the words tumbling out before you could even stop them, "i’ve dreamed of you, childe, maybe..."

you got him now— or, does he have you wrapped around his finger instead? regardless, his eyes blaze with a glistening triumph hanging over his irises as he captures your lips again.

he begins slowly, his fingers working around your hole with expert precision, circling your entrance and collecting your slick with such precision which you originally only knew of his ways of fighting as he coaxes out every inch of your pleasure.

you're writhing and hiding your moans into his chest, the volume of your whimpers growing when he pokes one finger in.

with a growl, he rips your shirt aside to expose your breasts, the fabric tearing in his haste— and before you knew it, his own jacket followed as you helped discard them quickly.

"look at me," he commands, "feel how i touch you there," as his voice resembles a rough whisper.,"i want to see the look in your eyes when i touch and touch you,"

you obeyed, meeting his gaze, your breath hitching as he thrusts one finger into you with a single, powerful flick forward.

the sensation was immediately overwhelming, not due to the fact that he was beginning to stimulate your hole with fast thrusts of his digit fucking in and out of you but the sole thought of childe doing it was the final nail in the coffin.

your heart was beginning to hurt from riding his fingers, furiously rattling against your ribcage as you threw out the last amount of dignity you had inside your body, becoming one with the movements of his hand before starting to seek it.

his wet tongue drags from your neck towards your collar bones before reaching your nipples, immediately taking one in his mouth as the heel of his hand began to press into your clit painfully hard, the feeling only multiplying when you shoved yourself into it more, better and deeper, until your body flashes you with a heat you cannot escape.

one more finger, more, and each pump turned rougher and moredemanding with the pace of his hand being relentless, cruel as you almost climaxed by just looking at him— how his wet lips left a trail of saliva on your slicked chest and ugh, that delirious glimmer in his eyes. 

childe truly likes the feeling of you clenching around his knuckles, he might become addicted to it, and he believes he'd actually die a happy man if he'd be able to feel you squeeze around his thick cock like that.

but you have to do it just like that, with your pussy drooling over his desperately and touch depraved, so he could taste you right after, yeah? have you all around his tongue.

he's not sure if he can even fit inside, ah, how excited he gets when he imagines your eyes glow and turn all big and pretty when he lets you see him from below his clothes— he knows for a fact he will make it fit.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[regency-monster-love]

Monstertober day 26: full moon

Male werewolf x female human | Regency era | NSFW: oral, piv, rough, knotting, breeding, biting

The werewolf thought it best to send himself away from the estate for his first full moon since his marriage, but his new bride insisted he stay.

“I knew I was marrying a werewolf, and I've seen you, once, in that form.” Granted, it had not been during a full moon, but she had seen it. “Besides, you can’t just leave home once a month, year after year, for decades.”

She had a point there—she’d have to experience a full moon with him eventually. He hadn't thought this through enough before proposing to a human woman, but he had just been too desperately in love to worry about such details.

Now, he was worrying.

“You don't understand what you're asking for,” he told her. “I cannot stop myself from shifting that night, no matter what.”

“I know—”

“And I cannot stop myself from mating with you that night. As the wolf.”

“Oh.” She paused. “But you won't be an actual wolf. Surely the, ah, mating can't be that different.”

“It will be completely different,” he stated firmly.

“Oh,” she repeated in a faint voice.

They'd only been married about a fortnight, and so far she’d found the marital act…acceptable. Her husband was not demanding or rough, simply did his duty under the covers and her nightgown, in the dark, quietly, and then he kissed her and left. The act was sometimes mildly pleasurable to her, but she felt a strange sort of disappointment after it was over and she was alone in her bedroom again.

She wondered whether the difference he spoke of would make sex worse or better.

“I am not afraid,” she told him steadfastly.

“I am,” he replied.

~🐺~

In the end, he did not leave for the full moon, though he certainly could have defied his wife to do so. Perhaps he disliked saying no to her, or perhaps—though he would not admit this to himself—his desire to take her as the wolf outweighed his fear of how she would react to it.

The night of the full moon, he let his wife remain in the room with him to witness his transformation, and as soon as it was complete, before she could say a word, he leapt at her and snatched her up. His mind was already clouded over with the instincts and urges of the wolf, his prick already swelling and pushing free of his sheath. Already he could not recall why he'd wanted to separate them this night—she was his mate, made just for this, for him to breed.

She gasped as his long claws ripped her nightgown off her body, and instinctively tried to cover herself with her hands—they'd always had sex with nightshirts on—but he snarled and pinned her hands to the bed. “No! I want to see what's mine.”

She shivered at how much deeper and rougher his voice sounded now; when he had shown her his wolf form once before, his voice had been lower in pitch, but nothing like this. Yet she could still recognize this growling rumble as her husband's voice, and it reassured her that she was still safe with this wild creature.

The werewolf released her hands to grab her hips and hoist them into the air, close to his face. “Wh-what are you doing?” she exclaimed.

“I want to taste what's mine, too,” he rasped out, and thrust his muzzle against her cunt.

She cried out at the rough, fast lapping of his tongue against her most intimate place. Never before had he used his mouth on her there, and it was overwhelming both at how new it was and how glorious it felt. Pleasure swept through her like a hot summer storm at every swipe and plunge and flick of his long tongue.

The werewolf found it glorious as well. He had never tasted anything as intoxicating as his mate! He'd craved tasting her for so long, but that wasn't how a gentleman would make love to his wife, so he had refrained. But there would be no refraining from any of his desires tonight. He was not a gentleman, he was a wolf, and he intended to show her exactly what that meant.

He knew by her scent that it frightened her a bit, at first, but arousal was there too, and the sour undercurrent of fear soon faded entirely against the much stronger spicy-sweet scent. Never before had he smelled such potent arousal from her, and it made him preen inside, happy and proud to be bringing his mate such pleasure.

She moaned and writhed in his grip, overcome by an ecstasy that somehow was still building. Surely she could take no more, and yet she was; it continued to build, and build, and then all her muscles went taut as the pleasure erupted and utterly, blissfully consumed her entire being.

The werewolf shuddered at the feel of her cunt pulsing around his tongue. This too was new, and now that he’d felt it on his tongue, he needed to feel it on his cock—right now, and then every day hereafter.

He withdrew his tongue and flipped her over onto her belly—the position another first—then hoisted her hips up to meet his. His cock brushed against her dripping folds as he did so, and he rocked his hips to do it again, coating his length with her slick to ready himself. She looked back over her shoulder at him. “What—”

“This is how wolves breed their good little mates,” he growled, and drove into her. A shocked cry left her lips, and he grabbed her hair to keep her head turned back toward him. He leaned closer to her face, baring his teeth in a grin. “And good little mates take it.”

He was already driving his hips against her fast, unable to temper himself when the full moon was compelling him to surrender to his basest, most animalistic qualities. And he didn’t regret his surrender. Her cunt felt heavenly, and just like home, enveloping his cock in its tight, warm embrace. This was where he was meant to be, inside her, and she was meant to take him.

He leaned even farther forward, pressing his furry belly to her sweat-slicked back so he could lick her neck. “You are so sweet for me, little lamb, taking my cock so well, just like a good mate should,” he rumbled.

She whimpered, enjoying his praise but too bombarded with sensation to form any coherent response. It felt as though she was being split open with every one of his savage thrusts, and yet she adored the exhilaration of it and the satisfying fullness of her cunt on each forward slide.

“Good mates get bred with pups,” he panted as his knot knocked against her entrance again and again. “I’m going to give you my knot, my seed, breed you with my pups.”

He could smell her arousal flare at his words, and the biting scent made his frenzy for her all the greater. He rose onto his feet, still fucking her, but crouching further over her back so he could drill his cock down into her with even greater force. The edge of his knot began to breach her, and he snarled at how close he was now. Never before had he knotted her, but tonight he’d have her locked on his knot over and over again, bloated with his seed all night long.

The full moon demanded it.

She felt herself stretching farther and farther each time he pounded that bump at the base of his cock against her. It seemed impossibly big, and yet she knew, somehow, that her body could take it. And she wanted to take it. She wanted to be a good mate, like he had said. She wanted him to give her his seed and swell her with his babies. She wanted it all.

“Bite me!” she cried out. He’d told her before what it would do, connecting them indelibly as mates, a bond even stronger than the marriage vows they’d said before God. It was why he hadn’t done it yet, though he’d told her that she was his mate. He had wanted her to be sure. But oh! she was sure. She loved him, and she wanted them to be as connected as it was possible for two souls to be.

He didn’t hesitate. How could he, with the power of the full moon coursing through him and his mate’s pretty plea ringing in his ears and her delicious scent filling his snout? He just obeyed, opening his jaws and clamping down on her shoulder.

Her screams rang in his sharp ears as the taste of her blood burst on his tongue and the feel of their mating bond pierced into the marrow of his bones, and with one last wild thrust he’d shoved his entire knot into her cunt. It clamped down around him, clenching in waves just like it had done before on his tongue, and he knew he was locked within her. He snapped his hips even farther forward and his seed erupted from his cock, his knot throbbing with each glorious spurt he shot into his mate’s womb. He lifted his mouth from her shoulder and howled in triumph as his cock kept pouring his seed into her.

The heat and fullness of it felt incredible to her. He’d spent inside her before, of course, but never had it felt like this, with his knot locking everything inside, allowing her to revel in the sensation of wholeness it gave her.

He soothed over the bite on her shoulder with his tongue. She felt its sting, but even that pain was somehow pleasurable to her, and she sighed happily.

“Are you well, little lamb?” he asked quietly.

“Yes, my love.”

Carefully he tilted them over onto their sides, curling his big furry body around her small smooth one. His giant clawed hand stroked over her soft belly. He couldn’t wait for it to grow round with his pup.

“You were right: it was very different,” she murmured.

“An agreeable difference, or a bad one?”

“The best one.”

“I’m gratified to hear that.” He gently rocked his hips against her, nudging his knot around inside the channel where it was still locked tight, making her breath hitch. “Because as soon as this goes down, we’re doing it again.”

~ 😈🎩 ~

Read all of my Regency monster ficlets and snippets at the tag “my writing.”

[writeyouin]

Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) X Fem-Reader - Sinless Sinners - Chapter 3

Chapter 3 - Learning To Get Along

A/N – So, a user on A03 suggested the snake servants’ new names. It was a stroke of genius on their behalf, and I can only thank them for it.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

MALE VERSION HERE

GN VERSION HERE

Tag-List: @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @sseleniaa @randomgurl2326  @22carolina08 @astrxwitch @yu-87 @clover-1767 @lil-bexie @thesimpybitch

Do you think you can manage that? Lucifer’s words hung in the air, creating an icy barrier between you.

So, Lucifer thought himself too good for low-life Sinners such as yourself. That wasn’t fair. Sinners might be in Hell for a reason, but sometimes such reasons were just fucking stupid. Heaven ought to base their entry requirements on a person’s character or strength of heart, not just their actions. You had met plenty of Sinners who were in Hell because of the most trivial shit.

There were those who liked to sleep around, but if sex positivity was a problem, then how did Heaven explain Angels like Adam, whom Charlie had told you about in excruciating detail. Lust shouldn’t have ever been considered a Sin, as long as all participants in any such carnal act were above age and consenting.

Then, there were a few murderers you knew. Granted, murder made the lines blurry, but some Sinners killed in self-defence, or only targeted others such as themselves, protecting the innocent in a very gruesome Dexter-like fashion. Were they really to be condemned? And who the fuck gave a damn about Sloth. So, some people were just bone idle, who gave a shit? Heaven apparently.

And now, the ruler of Hell was condemning those around him as well. He was supposed to care for his people, good or bad. Not to mention those who were solely created for or born in Hell, such as Imps, Hell-Hounds, or the Deadly Sins themselves; they hadn’t committed any crimes to get sent here originally – it was their home.

Your eyebrows furrowed, creating an annoyed crease along your forehead.

“No,” You told Lucifer, who stared at you incredulously.

No? Didn’t you understand the situation? He was Lucifer. King of Hell. He could destroy you with no effort spared, leaving no trace that you ever existed, and you were telling him no? He wasn’t an unreasonable guy, but how could you possibly think that being around him was a good idea? Did you respect Charlie more than you feared him? Granted, he didn’t go out much so few knew how powerful he was, but no other Sinner would dare deny him his wishes.

You saw the look he was giving you and decided to explain yourself.

“Look, I’m only here ‘cos Charlie thought it was a good idea, and if you genuinely hate me, I’ll go and you’ll never have to see me again, but you’re not even trying right now. You haven’t spoken to me. You don’t know anything about me, and frankly, I think Charlie’s right, you do need someone to talk to.”

“I don’t-” Lucifer started.

“You don’t even know why I’m down here,” You interrupted angrily, though you refrained from raising your voice. “And you don’t want to know, right? ‘Cos all of us filthy Sinners must be the same. Ooh, we squandered your gift of Free Will and now we deserve to suffer for eternity, do we? Grow up!”

Lucifer stared at you in astonishment, and you sighed, apparently not finished in your tirade, “I’m going to my room tonight, but tomorrow, I expect that you’ll at least try to tolerate me. Who knows? We might even find some common ground. We both love Charlie, don’t we?”

Lucifer didn’t know what to say to that. He certainly loved his daughter, more than anything else in the universe, but you? He still suspected that you had some kind of ulterior motive… everyone in Hell did. Yet, you had a point. He would do this for her, even if it meant he had to tolerate you.

Who were you, really?

He looked at you closely for the first time, trying to pick out some detail of who you might have been. It was even more disturbing than he previously thought. Before, he only saw a human. Now, he examined your clothes. There was little to say about the style, but your apparel was reminiscent of a Holy Animal. With the ruffled cuffs of your jacket, the way the back peaked to create the image of feathers, and the yellow ribbon that lined the white material, you looked like a dove.

Yet… Despite living in the Hazbin Hotel, Charlie had insisted that you didn’t seek redemption. Why go through the farce of dressing like an Angel then… unless? No, you couldn’t be. No Angel would dare stray from Heaven unless they were ordered to.

Lucifer held back a glower, trying to keep his emotions in check so you wouldn’t sense his thoughts. There was a possibility, though small that you had been sent by the likes of Adam to spy on Lucifer and his kin, ensuring that none of Charlie’s patrons ever found a way to the Pearly Gates.

Well, it wouldn’t take long to uncover your ruse. Lucifer had ways of telling an Angel from a Demon, and once you were asleep, he would know.

“Yeah,” Lucifer said evenly. “I love my Charlie.”

“So, you’ll try then.”

Lucifer nodded his head in consent.

“Okay, I’ll see you in the morning. Good night.”

The sentiment went unreturned as your King returned to his chambers, biding his time until you slept.

When you returned to your room, you got ready for bed. The day had been long and unusual. Honestly, you didn’t feel that you had a place in the manor, and you longed for your room in the Hotel, even if it was smaller, had a large stain on the carpet (which Nifty had named Vivienne) and an unruly infestation of roaches.

In the short time you had spent there, it had become home.

You would miss the arguing inhabitants, the energetic wake-up call from Charlie, the feeling of safety that Vaggie instilled, and the sound of Alastor’s morning and evening radio broadcasts. Yet, you hoped you might find something equally valuable in return if only Lucifer would open himself up to the possibility that you didn’t want anything from him.

After glancing out of your window, which had a balcony you could step out to if you so wished, you took in the whole of the Magne District which was the heart of Pentagram City. If you strained your eyes, you could just see the flashing neon of the Hazbin Hotel, and if you turned your gaze up… There was Heaven, out of reach yet always in sight, taunting most Sinners, yet emboldening a brave few who dared to wonder What If? What if they could change and gain admittance to a better life?

You sighed and dared not ponder further when you needed to get some sleep.

Throwing yourself on the plush bed, you got comfortable, arranging yourself how you liked, then leaning over to your bedside table, you blew out the cherry candle you had previously lit.

You rested your head atop the satin pillows, then frowned, feeling a lump beneath it. You reached under and pulled out a rubber duck, painted to look like a Hellhound-Duck hybrid. Assuming it was one of Charlie’s childhood toys, you placed it carefully atop the table; it would keep you company on your first night in a strange new place.

Lucifer waited till the late twilight hours before leaving his workshop. He transformed himself into a snake, slithering silently through the Hallways, ensuring that you wouldn’t hear him coming.

Before being cast out of Heaven, detecting an Angel would have been a simple task. He would just know, the way he now knew how to read a Demon. Yet, with you giving off little sign of Demonic energy, he now had to test if you were of Angelic origin. There were two ways he could do so. The first was by spilling your blood. Those who were born in or sent to Heaven had golden ichor instead of the oozing red or black goop of Hell-spawn and Sinners.

However, not wishing to alert you to his presence, Lucifer decided to opt for the other method.

Once he was inside your room and certain that you were in a deep slumber, he reverted to his original form, standing over you, his pupils turning to slits at the thought of a traitor in his house. If you were what he thought you to be, he would kill you immediately.

He pulled a small yellow twenty-sided stone from his pocket and baring his fangs in anger, he pressed it lightly against your skin.

Nothing happened.

Lucifer’s expression changed from one of deep-seated loathing to confusion. You weren’t from Heaven. If you were, the stone would have glowed a brilliant shade of Gold. Instead, it remained its original dull yellow.

Very well.

He would keep his word and… Tolerate you.

He left your room as quietly as he had entered it. Tomorrow, things would be different.

Lucifer didn’t sleep that night; the idea of change was terrifying.

The next morning, when Lucifer finally resigned himself to the fact that he was going to have to face you eventually, he headed downstairs, assuming that was where you were.

“JUST TRY IT!” He heard you yell. “TRY! OPEN YOUR MOUTH, DAMN IT!”

“Uh…” Was all he could think to say as he entered the kitchen and found you clinging to one of the snake cleaners he had created the previous night, in a rodeo-like fashion. The creature was trying to buck you off, with a somewhat derpy expression, probably stupidly assuming it was a game; Lucifer hadn’t bothered to instil them with much intelligence since he didn’t need them for anything more than cleaning.

“ARGH!” You grunted as you were dislodged from its back.

“What- What is this?” Lucifer asked, confused.

“Oh shit!” You cursed, embarrassed to have been caught in a less-than-dignified position. You attempted to regain a little composure by standing up, then held up a handful of wadded-up pancake.

“Do they eat?” You demanded, referring to the reptilian cleaners, “’Cos they’ve been in a picture frame their whole lives, and they must be hungry by now.”

Of all the stupid things you could have done, Lucifer couldn’t help but crack a smile, though he had the decency to hide his laugh behind a clenched fist and pass it off as a cough.

“They don’t need to.”

“Okay, but can they?”

“If they wanted to, I suppose so.”  

You glared at the mushed-up pancake, “I fucking knew it. Spick, Span, eat your fucking breakfast!”

“I’m sorry, who now?” Lucifer asked.

“Well, they clean, don’t they? Spick and Span seem to fit unless you have something better to name them.”

Lucifer chuckled, a half-short-lived chuckle, but one all the same. You were more chaotic than he expected.

“Fine, if you want them to eat, you’ve got to cook in style.”

He waved his hands energetically, his outfit transforming from his usual suit to one befitting a flashy Michelin Chef. He was comfortable in the role of an entertainer as he made a dazzling display of cooking up eggs. With the flash-bang of indoor fireworks, the island counter gained a conveyor belt to transport several dishes, all perfectly presentable and giving off a delectable aroma of herbs and spices.

Eggs-benedict, frittatas, and shakshuka shot by you, closely followed by a hungry Span, though his twin was busy writhing on the conveyer belt, trying to get to his feather duster, yet doomed to chase it since he didn’t think to travel in the opposite direction so it would meet him in the middle.

The sight was memorable to say the least, even when Spick knocked the food onto the floor and his brother was left stupidly sucking on the corner of the countertop where his seemingly new favourite dish had splattered.

You couldn’t help laughing.

“See?” You struggled to get the words out, “I knew they’d like food. I’m just a shite cook.”

Lucifer gazed at his dishes proudly, even though they were no longer fit for either of your consumption.

“Hah,” You said, feeling somewhat awkward now that the moment had passed and Lucifer’s gaze was upon you, trying to figure you out. “I’ll uh, clean this up.”

“No need, leave it to Flim and Flam,” Lucifer said nonchalantly.

“You know that’s not their names.”

“Whatever. So… we’ve met, there was breakfast with a show. We done for today?”

The smile fell from your face as you realised that all of this was just another of Lucifer’s acts. Granted, he might have actually had fun with it, but it was all just in the name of claiming he had tried to be around you, and just wanted to leave as soon as possible.

“I don’t know. I was going to go into the City if you wanted to come.”

“I can’t. I have… plans.”

Lucifer’s mood soured as he thought about visiting Heaven’s embassy to set up the meeting for Charlie. He hated everything about that building. The décor was just a cruel reminder of everything Heaven had banished him from. Moreover, while the Angels had to respect his power, they didn’t respect him; their cruel words and thinly veiled insults always cut him the deepest. Not to mention how bitter he was that the balance of power was uneven. Sure, Heaven had an embassy in Hell, but there was no such building in Heaven where Demons could work to arrange meetings between Angels and him.

It would always be Lucifer going to their building, on their terms, usually at their behest.

“Plans? So, you’re setting up Charlie’s meeting today?” You guessed astutely. “You know, I’m walking that way too.”

Lucifer guessed at your game. You probably hadn’t been going in that direction at all, but this was all in the name of ‘trying’. One way or another, he would have to learn to get along with you.

“Fine. Let’s go,” He said, flicking his hand back blasély, even though he found the idea of walking the streets of Hell daunting.

It would be better if he could teleport there, but at least, by the end of the day, you would have something positive to report back to Charlie.

[rainerioun]

𝖶𝖧𝖤𝖱𝖤 𝖶𝖨𝖫𝖫 𝖸𝖮𝖴 𝖡𝖤 𝖨𝖭 2 𝖸𝖤𝖠𝖱𝖲? | 𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖽.

— Hello! I know this is a shorter post, but I wanted to share something. This was requested anonymously, so thank you for the suggestion! ♥

ORIGINAL DATE POSTED : JUNE 16TH, 2024.

HOW TO CHOOSE A PILE : The outcome may vary based on whether you receive clear messages visually or intuitively. If you resonate more with selecting a pile visually, trust that inclination. Personally, I believe the notion that 'looks can deceive,' so I prefer to take a deep breath and close my eyes, allowing the pile I'm meant to connect with to come to me. You might see the color of the pile, sense or hear a number, or simply feel its overall vibe.

Please don’t redistribute or edit my content.

MUST READ + MASTERLIST. | KO-FI.

PILE ONE

Where Will You Be In 2 Years? The Empress [Reversed], The Chariot, Knight of Wands [Reversed].

In two years, you're definitely the one in control. If you're facing any hurdles, especially with dreams left unattended or ideas just lingering without action, that fades away over time. You might still encounter creative blocks and timing issues, but you'll handle them much more effectively, learning self-control and taking decisive action. You'll realize that your accomplishments don't solely define you; they're just an added bonus. You should know to slow down, it will grant you a clearer perspective to seeking security.

What Energy Will You Radiate? Networker — Light : Enhances unity through sharing of information. Engenders social awareness and empathy. Shadow : Conveys information only for person gain. Spreads fear and falsehood.  The Merchant : Self-worth, Trade. 

You could find yourself in a more social setting or perhaps in a higher position in your career, whether it's the same job or a new one. You're confident but not cocky, aware of your self-worth, and others notice this too. In some way, you seem to be a messenger, spreading kindness. This doesn't have to be taken literally; it could relate to anything. Whatever came to mind when you read that might be it.

PILE TWO

Where Will You Be In 2 Years? Ten of Pentacles, Knight of Swords, The Tower.

If you're starting something you've been wanting to begin or have been thinking about it, know now is the right time to do it. The next two years will be intense and different from what you're used to, but you can handle it. All your hard work will definitely pay off. In two years, you'll achieve what you wanted—be it wealth, security, or some kind of success. This will finally become permanent. However, expect significant changes, some of which you may not like at first. Any upheaval or chaos is just a way to build an even stronger foundation. For those considering starting a family, think about your circumstances carefully. Don't rush. This aspect will bloom within the coming years.

What Energy Will You Radiate? Queen — Light : Radiates the regal feminine. Uses her benevolent authority to protect others. Shadow : Becomes arrogant when authority is challenged. Controlling and demanding.  The Adventurer : Responsibility, Expectations.

Again, for those considering starting a family—if not, feel free to skip this part—you'll find yourself strongly in the parental role. This doesn't necessarily mean with a human child; just know you'll feel content. Some of you might be stressing over the mere thought, but rest assured, it'll bring fulfillment. As for the rest of you, you'll develop a stronger sense of responsibility. However, this doesn't mean you can't explore. The next few years are about stabilizing, rebuilding what's been lost, but in two years, you'll regain your 'freedom' once more. You are always the one in control, don't get lost in a little box.

PILE THREE

Where Will You Be In 2 Years? King of Swords, Seven of Cups, Four of Wands.

Pile three, you'll find yourself in a place of mental and physical clarity. It's a very calm and peaceful state. You're enjoying life, with a sense of harmony and relaxation. Home feels like a welcoming place. You deserve this, so keep following your instincts. There are many paths and decisions ahead, but there's no wrong choice. You get to decide for yourself. Whatever starts now will lead to peace in the future. While life won't be stress-free, you'll accept the struggles, not rushing to figure everything out immediately.

What Energy Will You Radiate? Hermit — Light : Seeks Solitude to focus intently on inner life. Serves personal creativity. Shadow : Withdraws from society out of fear or negative judgements of others. Refusing to help those in need.  The Vengeance : Overcoming Slights, A Choice. 

In two years, I envision you embracing the homebody life, in your own zone. It's all about you and your close circle. You'll find contentment in solitude, focusing on the little things with acceptance—chores, hobbies, and everyday routines. When I think of this scenario, I see someone sitting in a chair, leisurely watching their pet play without a worry in the world. It's a heartwarming scene; some of you might even welcome a new pet into your life. In two years, it's a time for retreat, and if you believe you can get there, you will.

[senualothbrok]

Enough

Summary: You agreed to help Astarion with the Rite of Profane Ascension, but you can't watch him go through with it. You interrupt the ritual, and Astarion turns on you. Now, you must deal with the aftermath of your actions.

Word count: 3.6k

Disclaimers: Non-18+. Astarion x female Tav. Angst. Trauma and recovery. A very angry Astarion.

AO3 link

This is the first fanfic I have written for about 20 years. I should be working on my novel, but this story honestly possessed me. I hope someone out there reads and enjoys this! If not, it was therapeutic and cathartic to write it.

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You have heard it a thousand times. The tales and the histories, all the songs you have sung. You are a bard, after all, and this story is as old and worn as your heart. Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely.

You know this, and you have seen it. You have seen it twist kind men into savages, transform wary women into beasts. Your own family had suffocated you under its clutches, leveraging your gifts and talents for ever more power and influence. Stripping you bare, squeezing out every drop they could get from you. You were their very own song bird, pushed about and paraded until your fingers were raw and throat was hoarse, to grant them entry into the best parties and social circles. But you were never enough. You never sang sweetly enough, or got large enough crowds. Not enough people knew you. You should have been prettier, more alluring. All the things they made you do, but you never did enough. It was never enough.

When you had escaped from them, you had vowed you would never be like them. You had promised yourself you would never become the thing you fought against. You would be different. Better. You would be good.

And yet.

You are standing in Cazador’s palace. Blood spatters the smooth ivory of Astarion’s skin. In the nightmarish hue of the ritual chamber, he glows a strange green. His crimson eyes are all fear and desperation.

“I can do this, but I need your help.”

In that moment, you cannot say no. If it were anyone else, you would refuse. There have been many conversations with Astarion - around the campfire, in his tent, even as you walked around the labyrinth of Cazador’s living hell. You have talked to him at length about this moment. You have listened as he has confessed guilt and need and hesitation and rage. You have been kind and patient, always careful not to criticise him, not to push back too much, not to hurt him. You have been good. He must make his own decision, you have been telling yourself. He has suffered enough.

So you open your mind to him, because he asks you to. You feel his frenzied hunger as he devours the sight of every scar on his back, as though their cruelty is now beauty. You watch his features which you have come to know so well. You have seen them in sleep, in battle, in laughter, in pain.  You have seen them shrouded and masked, bare and open. You watch now as they contort into something that you recognise from so many other faces and times. And as you watch, you can barely hear Cazador’s deafening screams, or register the way his mangled mess writhes and gushes. All you can see is Astarion’s widening smile as he carves at Cazador’s back, his eyes dilating like sinkholes.

You think it, even as he whisks away Cazador’s mutilated body like a rag doll. Even when Astarion slams the staff on the ground and everything around you blazes red as the blood of his convulsing siblings and the seven thousand spawn about to be slaughtered. Even when Gale and Karlach cry out at Astarion to stop, that this is a mistake, that the cost is too great. Even then, you think to yourself: this is what he wants. It is his choice. It is his right.

But in the scarlet haze, you are remembering. You are thinking of his trembling voice when he promised a broken husk called Sebastian, just moments ago, that he would free him. You think of the way his soft eyes glistened when he had thanked you and clasped your hand, stunned with the realisation that he was not just a thing to be used. You feel the crushing weight of Vellioth and Cazador and the decaying dungeons and centuries upon centuries of madness and terror. And you remember the tenderness with which he had looked at you, not days ago, believing the power of the ritual would keep you both safe. That he would protect you with it.

“I can feel their power flowing into me!”

You stare at him, spreadeagled, monstrous.

Something has begun to well inside you, like a cracking of ice, a convulsion of tears. In that whispering, you remember the promise you made yourself all those years ago.  And you know, from a deep and tattered place within you, that that promise is greater than your yearning for his love.

The blade springs from your hand on its own. You watch it sing through the air and hit its perfect note in Cazador’s maimed gut. Astarion and his siblings crumple to the floor. The crimson mist lifts, and in the silence you know, with the certainty of death, that you have lost him.

You say something, but you know it is meaningless. Nothing can repair the mistake you have made. You could have refused to help him when he asked. You could have reasoned with him, urged him to stop and think. You could have told him, from the start, that you could not go through with it. And now, you have kept your promise to yourself, but not to the man you love.

When he rises from his knees and turns to you, it is the face of a stranger that you see.

“I was so close. I could have had it all, but you took everything from me.”

Hatred hardens in his every word. And then, a tide of despair.

“Cazador won after all. I’ll never escape the hell he built.”

You cannot bear it. Your failure rips through you, and you want to reach out to him, to beg and plead and weep. But you just stand there.

He looks down at the staff in his hand.

“And if I can’t escape, then no one can.”

He splits the staff on his knee. It makes such a small sound as it splinters, but it echoes through you like an avalanche. It is the sound of seven thousand spawn being condemned to death. It is the sound of their eternal suffering. And it is all because of you. The horror and guilt erupts inside you.

It happens so fast after that. There is no time to think, to feel, to act. There is the glint of a dagger raised. You are knocked back, and a searing pain slices through your shoulder as you stare up at bared fangs looming over you. Your limbs are heavy with shock, and suddenly you feel a surge of heat and the great arc of Karlach’s war hammer over you. You hear Gale shout out a spell, and you watch as Astarion topples to the side, frozen except for the furious twitching of his eyes.

“Don’t!” you hear yourself shout. “Please, stop!”

Karlach and Gale rush to your side, cradling you up, fussing over your shoulder. But you do not feel it. You do not really feel anything. All you can do is look from them back to Astarion, pleading, but you are not sure what for.

---

“You can release his hold now.”

You are back at camp, and you have recovered your voice. For a long time, you could not speak. Shadowheart and Halsin tended to your arm, speaking soothing words over you. Gale and Karlach came to sit with you, their faces creased with concern. Wyll, Lae’zel and Jaheira stood at a distance, arguing in hushed voices. All the while, you stared into the distance, thinking of the hatred in Astarion’s gaze, and everything you had done to deserve it.

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” Gale says, frowning.  

“We can’t keep him like that forever.”

“The man turned on us. He tried to kill you.”

You look into Gale’s eyes. There is warmth there, streaked with pity.

“Can you blame him?”

Gale scoffs. “Yes, I can.” Then he pauses. His voice softens. “Well, perhaps in the circumstances, in the heat of the moment…” He shakes his head. “But he truly would have killed you, had Karlach and I not intervened. And that is inexcusable, after everything you – all of us - have been through with him. After everything you have done for him.”

Your vision blurs and stings.

“I fucked up, Gale. How could I have fucked up so royally? I should never have let him start the ritual. I should never have agreed with it. I’ve broken him. Seven thousand innocent people will die in agony because of me. Because I was…”

You are not used to burdening others with your emotions. You give and not take, even when you have nothing. When you are nothing. But now, you are afraid that you will break.

“…Because I failed.”

Without hesitation, Gale lays a hand on yours. It is a such a kind gesture that it chokes you. You have always been the one to look after others, to give them what they need. That is your role. It is what you exist for. If you cannot do that, what are you good for?

“Those things were never your responsibility, my dear friend. They were never your burdens to carry.”

“But he trusted me.”

“That does not mean that you must give him everything, or watch him destroy thousands of people and himself.”

You ball your fists. “Then I should have told him that, from the start. But I went along with it-”

“Because you love him.”

You have not spoken about this with Gale or anyone else. You know it is common knowledge that you and Astarion are entangled, but you have always wanted to hide the love you feel for him away. You have always known that whatever it was that lay between you was fragile. Astarion himself was not sure what you were.

Attachment does not come easily to you. You know that if you give people what they need, there is a chance that they will stay. But there is also a chance that they will snap their heads one day and no longer want what you have to offer. And then, they will go.

You have always tried to guard yourself against the pain of that departure. Even with Astarion.

“Many a mistake has been made for love,” Gale continues. “I understand this better than most.”

“This is a monumental fuck up,” you breathe. “Not a simple mistake.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Do you really want to start a competition about the magnitude and impact of our mistakes? Because if so, I believe that I would be a clear winner, and some others in our camp may also be worthy competitors.”

You are too weary to laugh. Too broken.

“Besides, I am sure if we knock our considerably enriched heads together, we can find a way to open those dungeons and release those prisoners. Especially with such a range of talented and well-resourced allies to draw on.”

You can see the questions taking shape in Gale’s head already. You give him a weak smile.

“You are only human, my friend. I know you try to be better than any of us, but even you are permitted to make mistakes.”

When he clasps you tightly to his chest, you let yourself rest into it. You want so badly to believe he is right, but you are not sure you can.

---

As you approach Astarion, you gesture behind you. You know the rest of them are all watching, wary and ready to strike at the faintest sign of danger. But you stand them down, and they linger at a respectful distance.

Released from Gale’s hold, Astarion hunches over slightly, like a cat backed into a corner. He knows he is outnumbered and vulnerable. He does not lunge towards you. His arms lie flat against his sides, his hands free of weapons. His fangs are hidden behind the tight line of his lips.

“What you did to me is worse than staking me. You might as well finish me off now.”

Every word is a cut. You flinch at each one, but you do not avert your gaze from his. Any gentleness, affection, and truth in those eyes is gone, locked behind blood-red walls. And in his abject contempt, you find a kind of freedom.

If he has already left, then you need not please him. If you are not enough, then it does not matter what you say. You have lost him already. He does not love you.

So you say what you wish you had said, from the moment that he showed you who he was, the moment you fell in love with him.

“The ritual would have killed you, your siblings, and seven thousand innocents.”

“Spare me,” he snarls. “You nodded and cooed at me, like you understood me, like you would help me. ‘I’m here for you, Astarion. I’ll help you Astarion. Tell me what you need and I’ll be there, Astarion.’ You fucking liar. You godsdamned hypocrite. You never understood me. You never wanted to help me.”

His fury is like a lash, but the pain is sobering. You brace yourself against it.

“I never said I would help you become Cazador, or let you kill thousands of people for power.”

“Please.” His laugh is vicious. “I told you from the start what I wanted. If you didn’t see that, then you’re blind. Delusional. A self-righteous idiot, living in a fantasy.”

“You wanted to be free, Astarion. To be safe.”

“You never wanted me to be free,” he seethes. “You liked me weak and broken, so I could come to you on my knees, and you could nod and smile and promise to fix me. Your own personal project, kept on a leash like a little puppy. Cuddly, harmless Astarion, healing from his hurts, all thanks to you. My saviour.”

Behind you, you can hear voices erupting and subsiding, a scuffle of shifting feet. You are grateful when no one interjects or rushes forward. This is for you and Astarion alone. It is your punishment to bear, and his truth to hear.

“You took all that power away from me,” he hisses. “It wasn’t your choice to make. It was my decision. You’re worse than Cazador.”

The words wound you like arrows, but you half expect them. You have called yourself worse things.

“Cazador would have just compelled me not to do the ritual. But you gave me a taste of what I wanted, then ripped it away from me. You’re the cruellest bitch I’ve ever known.”

You do not care that hot tears stream down your cheeks, and that your voice trembles. You let yourself say what needs to be said, not what you think he wants to hear.

“You’re right.” You take a step towards him. “I should never have let you do it. I went along with it, when I should have pushed back. But I wanted you to feel you always had someone on your side. Someone who understood. I wanted you to feel loved.”

His disgust does not deter you anymore.

“You think that this is all you are. You can’t see beyond it. What was done to you. What he made you do to others. But it isn’t. It never was. You were always strong. You can be more than what happened to you. You are more than what happened to you.”

“Like you?” he sneers. “A hero? Someone so chained to other people’s approval that you’re lost without a saving mission? That’s what you so desperately want to see when you look at me, isn’t it?”

“No.” You are surprised by the strength of your voice. “Only someone who won’t let thousands of people suffer just because you did.”

Jolts of anger course through him. “You have no idea what I suffered,” he growls. “No idea what I am owed. If you had the faintest idea of it, if you truly loved me, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You would be burning the world with me.”

You have listened silently before, when he talked about this. What he deserves after two centuries of agony. His comeuppance. You did not challenge him because you were afraid. Afraid you would offend him. Terrified that he would leave.

“Look around you, Astarion,” you say now. “Look at everyone here. We have all suffered. No, none of us have suffered what you have suffered, and I am so deeply sorry for that. But Cazador is dead and no one else will have to suffer under him. And now, no one will have to suffer under an Ascended either.”

A snide sound of disbelief. “You are so full of bullshit I can hardly breathe from the stench.”

Your tadpole rages, ramming into his mind. You expect the resistance of loathing, but he does not fight. He allows you in. And for the first time, you show him. You let him see him your parents, and your pain, and everything that was done to you. You open yourself up, the masks you put on that you recognise in him, the performances you too are familiar with in the economy of survival. You show him your promise to yourself, and your choices, and the failures you carry around with you like a noose.

He glares at you after it is over, but you think there may be less hatred in his eyes than there was a moment before.

“Why did you show me that?”

It is easier, now that there is nothing to hide.

“Because if we all burned the world because of our suffering, there would be nothing left. And because you said you wanted something real.”

He seems backfooted that you mention it. His first moment of honesty. Your first moment of connection. The beginning of your love.

“This is real, Astarion.” Your gaze is a waterfall. You cannot stop it. “Real love, messy and painful, with a real person who makes mistakes and tells you things that you don’t want to hear. Someone who sees who you really are and who you can be, the worst and the best of you, and still loves you anyway.”

He steps back, his features clenched in spasm. You think of how his hands felt on your skin, cold as ice to the touch, yet warming you inside out like summer sunlight. You remember the lilt of his laughter as you traded jibes and jests under the furs of your tent on cold nights. You breathe in his scent on the air for the last time, those hints of bergamot, rosemary and brandy that you could recognise anywhere. You are already mourning their loss.

“Then I don’t want it,” he spits out. “And I don’t want you.”

And then he leaves.

---

You are alone. You are lying in a clearing a short walk away from camp. It is spring, and the smell of earth and grass hangs around you as the sun streaks through the trees above you. Your ears are drunk with birdsong.

It has been weeks since he left. You would be lying if you said you did not miss him. Sometimes you feel his absence like a presence. It haunts and stalks you, and when the darkness comes, you cling to your pillow in your tent and weep through waves of grief that surge through you like labour pains. But at other times, you find a kind of solace in your solitude. You are not shackled by a desperation for love from a man so broken he is not capable of giving it. You are not trapped by your own brokenness in this yearning, this ache to fill the holes in his heart. And this freedom is worth the pain.

When you had asked Astarion what he wanted, he had never known. And perhaps that had struck you so deeply because you had never known either. You had never truly known what you wanted, who you really were outside of what you could do for others. You thought you were only a thing to be used, a tool to fill someone else’s need, whatever that may be. You could be good at that. You needed to be good at that. If not, you were nothing.

But you are learning. Since he has left, you are learning that you are more than that. You are learning that you can live with your mistakes. That you are enough, just as you are.

You find that you sing now, even when there is no one around. Even when it is not for a performance, or for support in battle. You sing for yourself, and you take pleasure in it, even when your notes are off key and you cannot remember the right words, even when no one is there to praise you or reward you for it. For the first time, you are enjoying your gift for no other reason than that you wish to. It is a gift, and it comes without dread or shame or conditions.

You are humming softly as you stroll back to camp. Scratch greets you with a frenzied tail, and you roll around with him, kneeling as he plasters sloppy kisses all over your face. The simple joy of this dances over the cracks in your heart. When Scratch suddenly stops, you are almost disappointed. You glance in the direction where he has bounded, an ecstatic flurry of delight. Then your eyes catch on silver shining in the sun, two bright rubies on white silk. Your breath halts.

There he is. He is different, but the same. You look at each other. And in that moment, it is enough that there is no hatred in his eyes, which flicker with uncertainty. It is enough that his mouth is not curled into a sneer, and his brow is soft and even. It is enough that you have both survived. You have shown each other who you are, and you are still here.

He reaches his hand out to you, and you take it.

---

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[sylusjinwoon]

{ 166 }

too sweet.

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

{ you know, you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain | pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape | if you can sit in a barrel, maybe i’ll wait until that day… }

@nyashykyunnie said: HELLLOOOO. Since you granted me permission to request a daydream uhm… Jinwoo with a reader who hyperfixates on a lot of things! The fungi, the stars and most especially the sea!! Reader lovesloves whales and jellyfishes and sharks lots!! She loves the sea so much,,!!!!, She also draws a lot><!!! Art is her biggest passion most of all!! She’s like a free bird always so cheery and happy!! Loves all things pretty and cute! A very very childish reader who is just a ball of sunshine and energy!! Loves messing ariund with Jinwoo by putting little dabs of paint on his face heheh… And loves comparing hand sizes and cuddless><!!! Sorry it’s so long ueueueu

there were times when jinwoo sung had to wonder just how he got so lucky to be with someone as bright as you.

whereas he was the pure and true embodiment of darkness-

jinwoo was certain you were light personified.

everything about you was achingly sweet to the core-

too sweet, actually.

the moment he had fallen in love with you was one that happened so… naturally. that day, he had taken some time off in order to take his mother and sister to the nearest beach. he rented out a tiny cottage by the sea, giving them the perfect view of the ocean.

while his mother and sister spent some time walking on the beach together, jinwoo wanted to give them a chance to have the much needed mother-daughter moment they both deserved, deviating from the mainland beach when he sees rugged rocks with tide pools settled beneath the harsh terrain. he thinks about all the fascinating creatures that lived within such little pools and steps closer to the area.

however, the closer he got to the tide pools, the quickly he realized that he was not alone.

for settled against one of the rocks was a young woman that was sketching within the confines of her sketchbook-

it was you.

jinwoo was suddenly rendered speechless at the mere sight of you, taking a moment to admire the way your hair shone from beneath the sunlight. your cute features were turned into a look of concentration, with your lips pursed and your eyebrows furrowed in response.

as you inched closer to the shallow pool, you had somehow lost your balance and nearly face-planted within the waters-

had it not been for jinwoo’s quick thinking, making a mad dash toward you as he captured your frame within his arms. his eyes were glowing with amusement, fighting back a smile when he sweetly asks, “are you alright?”

jinwoo helps you safely lean back against the rock, with your hands gripping on tightly to his wrist before meeting his gaze.

not a hint of fear was seen settled in your eyes, and jinwoo found that he couldn’t look away from you. your smile goes wide as you eagerly introduced yourself to him. already mesmerized by your bright and sunny nature, he repeats your name, ready to introduce himself as well when you suddenly beat him to it.

“you’re jinwoo sung, i know.”

you know?

“that’s interesting.” jinwoo couldn’t stop himself from letting out a chuckle. usually, those that met him treated him like some celebrity or idol, getting tongue tied as they bowed down to him, stuttering out their greetings while avoiding his gaze-

but you-

you were oh so different.

your gaze met with his in an unflinching manner, with your lips tilted up in a smile that manages to make his heart pound in response. the more he looked at you, the more he could feel his heart becoming filled with your sweetness and light.

after trading pleasantries, he helps you down from the rock, walking along the beach with you while softly asking if he could see your sketchbook. you would give him a sheepish expression, your cheeks being filled with heat before giving him your sketchbook as you told him your sketches “weren’t much.” as he flips through the pages, you were clearly downplaying your talents as each and every sketch was filled with a vibrancy he had never seen before.

but that all changes when jinwoo sees a sketch of himself hidden amidst the pages.

your gasp and the way you immediately tried to take the sketchbook away from him was amusing, with jinwoo holding the book up high, his eyes glowing while they took in the sight of the drawing you had made of him.

from the soft expression to the way his hair was carefully layered, jinwoo couldn’t help but feel a hint of pride, seeing how pretty you had made him.

“beautiful…” after ensuring that your sketch of him was burned into his very memories, he returns it back to you, basking in your shy expression and the way you suddenly couldn’t meet his gaze.

“you weren’t supposed to see that. now, i’m sure you find me… strange, right?”

yet instead of teasing you further-

he asks you out on a date later that night.

and the moment you accepted his offer for a date-

the rest was history.

a single date meant as a simple thank you for allowing him to see your sketches turned into something a bit more frequent; a bit more permanent.

jinwoo would find himself spending every weekend to visit you, allowing the seemingly simple and innocent crush to grow into something much deeper.

and truly, how could he not fall in love with you?

each time you spoke passionately about your interests-

(of the sharks and colorful jellyfish that lives within the crystal blue depths of the ocean;

of the strange mushrooms seen growing within your backyard, seeming to have a life of their own as they lengthened and grew beneath the emerald green grass;

of the constellations seen shimmering within the night sky from beneath the light of the full moon…)

never once did jinwoo get tired of hearing your musings and rants that pertained to your current hyperfixations, and more often than not, he would find gifts for you that further helped strengthened your love for each and every one of your interests.

(an encyclopedia for the ocean creatures and various fungal life; a book that goes into each legend of each constellation seen within the night sky and a telescope…)

in jinwoo’s eyes, no gift was ever too much for you. for you were the sole person that stole his very heart at first sight.

when he finally put a label on his relationship with you, he swore he would never forget the look of utmost joy within your eyes. your sweet voice would call out to him before you wrapped your arms around his neck, already planting a kiss against his parted lips.

a choked sound of surprise escapes from jinwoo, making you gasp as you quickly pulled away from him. a slew of apologies were heard coming from you-

and jinwoo wasn’t having it.

with a grunt of your name, he keeps your head still before diving in for another kiss, basking in the way you momentarily let out a gasp before practically melting against him. in mere seconds, jinwoo quickly became addicted to the soft and sweet taste of your lips.

already so enamored with you, he pulls away from you, only to murmur against your lips, “you’re too sweet for me… but… i have a feeling i could get used to your taste…”

it came as no surprise when jinwoo decided to move in together with you, not being able to handle a single moment spent separated away from you. each and every day was spent in an almost blissful manner, with the s-rank hunter cherishing each and every part of you.

and tonight was no different.

for your one year anniversary, jinwoo had taken you back to the beach where you had first met, preparing a home cooked dinner that consisted of all your favorite foods. after your meal, you had laid against jinwoo’s chest while resting on the blanket, simply enjoying the colors that seemed to set the sky aflame while the sun began to set over the horizon.

jinwoo’s eyes were closed, simply basking in your warmth and the way the setting sun had painted his whole world in hues of a gentle twilight. while he was resting, he could feel your hand inching closer to his as you carefully held on to it. jinwoo could feel a smile begin to spread across his full lips as you flattened the palm of your hand against his, clearly measuring the size of your hand in comparison to his.

a soft chuckle escapes from him, “sarang, silly love of mine, just what are you doing?”

he opens up one eye to look at you, a half-smile painting his handsome features as he allowed an arm to wrap around your waist, bringing you closer to his chest as he remained laying down. basking in your giggles once more, he feels his heart began to race again the moment you lean down to press a kiss against his chest.

“i love you so much, jinwoo.”

“heh, i love you more, sarang.”

jinwoo presses a kiss against your hair while letting you play with his hands. he watches you with adoration, seeing you pick up his hand before interlocking your fingertips together. a wide grin paints his features when he gives your hand a squeeze before turning you around so that you were now settled with your back against the blanket.

your breathing comes out as gentle giggles, and jinwoo takes this chance to press several, audible smooches against your features. the more you let out those melodious sounds of your laughter, the more he kept littering your face with those achingly sweet kisses.

jinwoo successfully distracts you, and you couldn’t help but frown when you felt a sudden weight against your left ring finger. catching your shocked expression, he allows you to sit up while looking at the ring settled against your finger.

it was an incredibly cute and endearing ring, with your favorite gemstone shaped into a heart as you met jinwoo’s gaze, eyes going wide with your lips parted in response. “jinwoo… what’s this?”

“a promise.” his reply comes out as hoarse and shaky, taking your hand as he presses a kiss against the ring he had just gifted you. “i know it feels… a bit too soon to propose any… ah… commitment. but still, i wanted you to know that i’m completely serious about you.”

“this ring will serve as my promise to you… of what is to come.”

with a choked sob of his name, you lean forward to kiss him once more, perfectly slotting your lips against his as jinwoo kissed you back with just as much passion.

jinwoo knew right then and there that he had made the right decision of keeping you; for you were (and always will be) his sole light.

a.n. - when kyunnie made a second part to her most gut wrenching angst, i was so elated and happy that i wanted to write / make a daydream of hers come true. i hope i wrote your daydreams well enough! 🥹

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[criticallyinneedofadar]

Beyond Hope

Author's Note: I'm in denial.

WARNING: SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT

Pairing: Adar x reader

______________________________________________________________

The moment you see him, you forget everything else. The stillness of Valinor, the golden light that wraps around the edges of the horizon, the gentle whisper of the sea—they all fade into nothing as you run toward him.

“Aruvian,” you whisper, breath catching in your throat.

He stands, the familiar, angular face that has haunted your dreams now softened by the weight of death, but the sight of him—alive, whole, no longer burdened—makes your heart race. You see it in his eyes, too, the disbelief, the raw ache of too many lifetimes apart, and the quiet realization that you are here, in front of him, after all this time.

He startles at the sound of his old name, the one he left behind millennia ago- left you behind.

His children—the ache of their betrayal and despair at their fall to Sauron—seem distant now, muted. The scars of battle, of the millennia he spent fighting in vain, have faded. Only peace remains here.

You hesitate, for just a moment, wondering if he will blame you for leaving him in his darkest hours, not that you had much of a choice. You stop a few steps away, running your eyes over his form again and again. Tracing his features and scars-some new and some you know the very texture of.

Adar- your Aruvian, takes a step back, fear flickering across his face and for a moment, terror grips your heart that he does not remember you. You bow your head in acceptance of his hesitation, but then strong arms are around you, pulling you into him with a force that feels like the world itself is righting all the wrongs it has ever known.

“It is truly you,” he breathes into your hair, his voice cracking. “I never thought...”

“You’re free,” you murmur, burying your face in his chest, letting the warmth of him melt away the fear that he might reject this, reject you. “The Valar have granted you peace. For what you tried to do—for them.”

He pulls back, looking at you, a question in his eyes. “For my children?”

You nod, tears in your eyes. “Your efforts, your desire to give them something better, to find them peace... it granted you clemency. You were not forgotten.”

A flicker of sorrow crosses his face—old pain, wounds that cannot be erased, even in this place. But then, slowly, his lips curve into a smile, and it is as if the very light of Valinor burns brighter, casting golden rays over everything.

“I was never certain I could be forgiven,” he says, voice rough. “I was ready for oblivion, for anything but this.”

“You’ve earned it,” you reply softly, touching his cheek. “And you’ve earned us.”

He leans into your touch, his forehead resting against yours, and for a moment, the weight of eternity does not feel heavy. It feels like home.

“I waited,” you say, voice trembling. “So long, I waited.”

“I know,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin. “And I searched for you in every shadow, in every moment of despair. But you were here. All along.”

There are no more words. Only the sensation of him, whole and real in your arms once again.

The air between you hums with unspoken words, the ache of centuries, the longing that held you both through lifetimes apart. Again, his forehead rests against yours, and for the first time in so long, the ache begins to ease.

His lips hover near yours, breath mingling, and he catches your eye- almost asking permission. You smile up at him and gently grab his wrists were they frame your face. When his lips finally meet yours, it is soft at first—tentative, as if he still cannot believe this moment is real. But then it deepens, and the gentle hesitation gives way to a flood of emotions, overwhelming and fierce.

Your hands find their way to the nape of his neck, fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer. The kiss is a reunion of souls, a desperate claim on the love that has been denied for too long. He kisses you like a man who has wandered through endless darkness and finally found his way back to the light.

There is no more space between you, no more doubt. The warmth of him wraps around you, grounding you, reminding you that you are here—together, after everything. His hands hold you like you are precious, like the very idea of losing you again is unbearable.

When the kiss breaks, you’re both breathless, foreheads still resting together, hearts pounding in sync. He pulls back just enough to look at you, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips, his thumb brushing gently along your jaw.

“Gi melon,” he whispers, his voice hoarse with emotion, and you know it’s true. You’ve found your way back to each other, and nothing will ever separate you again.

He leads you down a quiet path where the soft hum of life continues, the breeze gentle, fragrant with flowers that never fade.

Finally, you are home.

[dyeher]

WHAT DADDY DESERVES| NSFW

Includes: toji fushiguor x fem! reader

Warnings: age gap, shibari, smut, knife play, fear play, light humiliation, degradation, female identifying reader, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, impact play [pussy and ass spanking], choking, face fucking, cum eating, edging, dacryphilia, cucking [sort of], creampie, overstimulation.

Summary: toji’s never been given a gift like this before. bless megumi’s little heart for knowing his daddy so well.

“What the hell is this?”

Truthfully, Toji couldn't say for certain what he expected when Megumi had announced after dinner that there was a surprise waiting for him in his home office. Maybe an expensive bottle of liquor, a new handgun, a cologne, a card, or nothing at all. Though the latter was more a self-deprecating expectation than anything else. Further, he didn’t think his son was capable of surprising him. Toji, up until this exact moment, had convinced himself that he had seen enough in his lifetime to ensure nothing would ever truly surprise him.

And yet, the sight of you- gagged and artfully tied in golden ribbons- kneeling next to his desk has left him stupefied.

“Megumi- What the fuck?” he gestures to your trembling body. “What the hell has gotten into you?”

“I see the way you look at her old man,” he can feel Megumi’s eyes on his back. “You can take what I’ve so graciously offered or you can look a gift horse in the mouth. Either way, she’s yours for the rest of the night.”

If Toji’s cock wasn’t one wrong move away from bursting the seams of his slacks he might have denied Megumi’s observation until he was blue in the goddamn face. You were too young, too beautiful, too innocent, too much of his son’s fucking girlfirend to be sitting next to his desk with nothing but literal scraps of fabric covering your...important parts. As it stood his cock was embarrassing him, and it wasn’t helping that he hadn’t looked anywhere but at you since he spotted you.

God but you were beautiful. Admittedly whether you were wrapped up like a christmas present or fully clothed Toji knows he’d still be staring at you, granted in the latter instances it would be easier to tear his gaze away from the wealth of exposed flesh, because there would be no exposed flesh.

“Be gentle with her, don’t get her pregnant, no anal,” Megumi says, and maybe Toji makes a sound of agreement because his son leaves after that, a mumbled ‘Happy Father’s day’ his parting words.

The slamming of his office door makes you jump, and the delicious jiggling of your breasts as a result leaves Toji reeling. You’re staring up at him with such open abandon that Toji slumps into the closest chair. Evidently, Megumi hadn’t forced you into these shibari knots, you’d gone willingly. Toji supposes there’s something to be said about the fact that his son knows his tastes well. From where Toji sits on the single arm chair in the room, he can spot one particularly aggravating knot that he loves. Nestled next to your clit, he imagines the knot is likely soaked from your constant shifting.

There’s something morally wrong with wanting to stuff your son’s girlfriend full of cock. Unless, your son gives you the green light and said girlfriend is looking at you like you’re her salvation. Then it’s a matter of self defense, because obviously the two have conspired to ruin his already crumbling mental factions and thus, as he stands and approaches you he convinces himself that he’s fucking you for the sake of defending those mental factions.

The gag is drenched and Toji doesn’t care that they’ll get saliva on the paperwork laid out on his desk, he has half a mind to rub the sopping material along the length of his cock before your mouth opens on an adorable ‘ah’ that makes his cock twitch in anticipation. First, he needs to get you out of these ties because he needs to feel all of you. He needs to feel every inch of glorious skin and he needs it like he needs his next fucking breath.

So he cuts you free of the looping material, doesn’t even bother to listen to your little huffs of protests as your hands spring free and then your legs, and then your breasts relax when the ribbon at the bottom and the top come undone. He pulls you to your feet and drags you to the chair he’d previously occupied. You follow after him, standing between his thighs as he cuts you the rest of the way free.

The knife grazes the inside of your thigh teasingly, Toji doesn’t need to cut that part- the part pressed achingly close to your clit- free he only needs to tug on the knot, but when your hands fly to his shoulders coupled with an adorable whimper and he looks up to find your lips parted, eyes glazed over he brings the knife higher.

Your breath hitches and Toji can’t swallow his surprised chuckle fast enough.

“You like playing with knives, angel face?”

Your response is a jerky nod that Toji’s sure you had no conscious control of. He flips the knife so the dull back of it drags along the inside of your thigh, when it reaches the soft, puffy lip of your pussy he has to wrap an arm around your waist to stop you from collapsing. He pulls it away and helps you onto his lap, pressing your back against the chair’s arm and draping your legs across his thighs and over the other arm.

“Tell me something,” he urges, the knife in one hand held away from your body and the other gripping the back of your neck to keep your face angled to his. “Do you want this?”

“Yes- yes sir,” you lick your lips nervously and Toji nods.

“And did Megumi force you to do this?”

You glance away. Toji’s entire body goes taught. If Megumi forced you to have sex with him, if he’s blackmailing yo-

“It was my idea,” you admit.

Toji blinks, unsure he’d heard correctly. “Say that again?”

“It was- it was my idea, Mr. Fushiguro.”

Toji takes a long look at the way you’re spread out for him, your skin dented where the knots were pressed against your flesh, covered in a thin layer of sweat that leaves you glowing under the harsh lights of his office. Your breaths come in quick harsh pants, your legs twitch with each breath and Toji’s certain the dampness of his slacks has nothing to do with the fact that his cock is leaking into his boxers.

Toji wonders for one insane second what he could have possibly done to deserve this kind of gift. As far as he was concerned he was a mediocre parent at best. Love could really only provide so much emotional cushioning before it wasn’t enough. Not to mention his constant absence from his kid’s life because of work. It didn’t make sense that Megumi would give him something as precious as you. If he were a better man he would turn you down nicely, reassure you that it wasn’t that he didn't want you but it was just messed up. Thank the stars in the sky that he wasn’t a better man.

He glances down at you squirming in his lap and shuts off the part of his brain screaming at him to stop. He grasps a handful of your tits and squeezes gently, rolling the puckered nipple in between his fingers until your back arches off the chair arm. He drops the knife onto the end table next to him and uses that hand to drag down the center of your body as he sucks the nipple into his mouth.

“Oh,” you gasp.

His hand settles at the top of your pussy and he chuckles at your desperate whimper. He keeps it there as he switches to your other nipple. Toji takes his time, he operates on the belief that this is the only chance he’ll ever get to explore your body, to touch you however he likes without worrying about repercussions. So, as he sucks languidly at your nipples he rubs slow circles at the top of your pussy, right above your clit. A taste of what he could do. When you’re squirming so bad he’s forced to tighten his grip on you he finally pulls away from your chest he peppers kisses up your sternum, and along your throat until he reaches your lips.

“Are you sure you want this, angel face?” he asks.

“Yes- yes please,” you answer shakily.

“Good, you know what the stoplight system is?” Toji hides his excitement at your nod. “We’re gonna use that system, angel face. Remind me what it is?”

“Red means I want you to stop whatever you’re doing, yellow means slow down because what we’re doing is making me feel a little uncomfortable, green means I’m okay with whatever you’re doing and I think you should continue.”

Toji smiles, “Just about. What’s your colour right now?”

“Green,” you pant, wiggling so your ass settles between his legs on the chair. Toji is momentarily distracted when you brace the soles of your feet on the chair arm and your legs butterfly open. He catches a glimpse of slicked pussy lips as they part, strings of your arousal connecting them to each other.

“Good,” he answers absently and then he’s dipping his fingers into your messy little cunt. “So fucking wet,” he glances up to find your eyes glued to where his fingers have disappeared between the lips of your pussy.

He drags two fingers along your slit, collecting and spreading your cum up to your clit where he rubs light circles around it. Your responding whimper goes straight to his cock. He pulls his fingers away and with his eyes trained on yours he sucks your cum off his fingers. Your eyes widen adorably and Toji ducks to kiss you.

It dawns on him, when your lips part immediately under his, warm and soft and compliant that his son has probably fucked you under this roof. He uses the kiss as a distraction as he reaches for his knife. He flips it so the blade is facing him and gingerly runs the handle along the inside of your thigh.

Your body jerks.

“Easy,” he murmurs against your lips. “I’m not going to hurt you. Okay?”

Toji watches you struggle to regulate your breathing, but you’re shaking so bad it’s a little concerning. When you manage to squeak out your affirmative he leaves a chaste kiss to your mouth and turns his attention to his knife and your pretty pussy.

“I have to ask,” he starts conversationally, as the handle continues to climb the sensitive skin. “Why this and not something uh...normal?”

“What?” you ask dumbly.

He chuckles. “Well, Megumi could’ve gotten me a blank card and I’d have been grateful-” he stops just before he reaches your pussy lips again and flips the knife around so the blade is pressed flat against the inside of your thigh, “-but you suggested this-” he drags his eyes along your exposed body, “-so I’m asking you why this?”

You gulp when the blade bumps into your labia. “I- I don’t-”

Toji presses the blade flat against your cunt, covering one labia entirely.You inhale sharply, your limbs locking as you struggle not to close your legs around the knife. The cool press of the blade against the heated flesh causes goosebumps to erupt along your skin. He waits as you exhale slowly. He doesn’t move, just stares at you expectantly.

“Well? You still haven’t answered, angel face.”

“I don’t- I don’t know,” you stutter, your body trembles with the effort it takes not to move less the knife cuts you.

“I think you do,” Toji tuts. “You must, because I’m sure you’d have to convince Megumi somehow and you couldn’t have convinced him if you didn’t know.” He pulls the knife away and slaps at your cunt with it before pressing it back to your labia. “Try again. Why this?”

Tears gather at the corner of your eyes and Toji can just make out the way your pulse is pounding at the base of your throat. “I- I wanted to- I wanted to fuck you,” you answer. “Meg- Megumi- Megumi can’t say no to me.”

Toji freezes. “Who else?”

“Mr. Fushi-”

“Call me Toji. Now answer the question.”

The knife presses harder against you and your body twitches, the tears spill over and a half sob breaks free as you scramble to grab onto his arm.

“Who else has my son let you fuck, angel face?”

“Satoru-”

Toji pulls the knife away from your pussy and presses it to your throat. “You’re a little whore aren’t you?”

--

You gulp, your breaths stuttering out of you. You can only stare wide eyed up at Toji, the reality of your situation sinks into your gut like lead. This man kills people for a living and now you’re naked and spread eagle on his lap with a knife pressed to your throat all because you’re a horny little shit. You should’ve listened to Megumi. This was a bad idea. And yet, even as the knife presses deeper against your throat, your legs trembling and your heart racing, you don’t know where the arousal ends and the fear begins. Your body, that traitorous bitch has your nipples pebbling and your pussy leaking.

“You think I’d fuck your little pussy now? Knowing you’ve been giving it to anyone who makes your panties damp?”

You find yourself frowning deeply, your bottom lip wobbling at his words. “I- I’m not-”

The knife vanishes and fingers appear at your cunt, dragging through the mess you’ve made. Toji grins wolfishly. “Your cunt says otherwise, angel face. You’re wet and messy. Your pussy is sloppy and I haven’t even fucked you yet.”

“Please- I’m sor-”

Toji laughs. “You’re not sorry yet, but you will be. Can’t believe my son’s dating a little slut like you. Can’t believe he’s letting you take advantage of him.”

You hiccup, your eyes blurring with tears as he sinks two fingers into you abruptly, his pace is harsh and unrelenting and when you try to grab onto his wrist he pins your arms to your stomach with his free hand. The lewd sucking sound your pussy makes as he moves his fingers in and out coupled with the way his fingers twist inside you, searching for something are enough to have your eyes rolling into your head. You’re almost to the edge when he pulls away.

“No!” you cry out, hips jerking up in search of his fingers. “To- toji please.”

“What’s your colour, angel face?”

It takes you a moment to understand what he’s asking. “Green, so green, please- please touch me-”

The knife returns and you’re so stunned you don’t react as he uses the dull back of the blade to drag along your cunt, you watch liquid pool on the blade before Toji brings it up to your lips.

“Taste yourself, but be careful, wouldn’t want you to hurt that pretty mouth before I use it.”

You latch onto his wrist, holding him steady as you run your tongue along the blade, licking up your cum.

“Fuck,” Toji grunts. “Such a good little slut.”

You keen and he drags the tip of the knife from the space between your breasts to your clit. Goosebumps follow the cool metal until the hairs on your body are standing on end. You tense when the tip brushes against your clit.

“Toji?” you lick your lips when he circles the sensitive nub. “What- what are-”

“Shh, it’s okay,” he coos. “I’m not gonna hurt you, remember?”

You nod dazedly, “Okay.”

“I’m a little upset though,” Toji sighs. “And disappointed. Here I was thinking you were a good girl. You really had me fooled.” The knife makes another circle around your clit and you whine. “Megumi’s too blind to see what you really need,” the knife disappears again, “a little punishment.”

You’re not prepared for the harsh slap that lands on your cunt. Toji’s hand is heavy and the stinging spreads from your clit all the way up your torso, your body bows. Another two echo in the room coupled with your helpless cries, you have no doubt Megumi can hear them.

“What do you think, angel face? Ten on your slutty cunt? And then another ten on your ass?”

You can barely form a coherent sentence as you attempt to disagree, but Toji ignores you, and another harsh smack has you breaking out in a full body shudder.

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry,” you slur. By the seventh slap you’re sobbing outright, but your cunt is soaked, the final three slaps are lewd and the tacky sound of Toji’s palm against the wet lips of your pussy would have been embarrassing if you had the presence of mind to feel embarrassed.

“Good little slut,” he chuckles, releasing you to flip you onto your stomach across his thighs. “Colour, angel face?”

“Green, ‘m green,” you hiccup. “‘M sorry, ‘m sorry, I’ll be good, I’ll be go-”

You’re babbling as Toji caresses your ass. He massages into the flesh gently, until your babbling dies to a low whimper, and then the first slap makes you jump. Toji groans, “If you take your punishment like a good girl, maybe I’ll make you cum.”

You shut up instantly, muffling your cries by chewing on your lips. Each slap seems to get harsher, harder. He’s on the fifth slap when the babbling starts anew, Toji ignores you as he continues his spanking. You lose count at some point and only realize he’s stopped when he dips two fingers into your pussy from behind. You inhale sharply, a sob of relief bubbling out of you as he curls his fingers into your walls, he adds a third finger and your body hums happily. You’re so close you’re drooling, your lips parted as you pant out thank yous. Just as you’re about to cum he stops and you scream in frustration.

“Oh, angel face,” Toji mocks. “Did you really think your punishment was over?” He maneuvers you onto your knees in front of him. “You haven��t even sucked my dick yet.” He frees his cock from his slacks and your body lurches forward as soon as it bobs free. Thick and long, and wet with precum, your mouth waters at the sight of him. Briefly, you note that Megumi’s cock is eerily familiar. “Open up,” he instructs, slapping the thick length of it along your cheeks, and smearing his precum along your lips.

The weight of him as he slides onto your tongue and bumps into the back of your throat is so satisfying that your eyes roll. He’s nothing like Megumi. Where your boyfriend would give you a moment to adjust, to take the reins and suck him off however you like his father is not so patient. He cups your face with one big hand, his fingers splayed out on your neck and his thumb pressing your lips open and fucks your throat harshly. Spit layers on his cock from each thrust into your throat, it fills your mouth until there’s nowhere to go but out and onto your chin and chest. Strands of saliva decorate your lips and his cock each time he pulls out far enough for you to breathe.

“God, yes, just like that,” he grunts, as though you’re doing anything other than struggling to keep your throat relaxed and oxygen in your lungs. “Open your eyes.” You do, though you can’t say when exactly they slipped shut. Watching Toji as he grappled to keep his self-control was one thing but watching as that self-control snapped was awe inspiring.

He yanks you off his cock and pulls you to his desk, “Colour?”

“Green,” you croak, throat raw and pulsing from its use.

“Thank fuck,” Toji mand handles you onto his desk easily, he pushes you down and spreads your thighs wide enough for him to fit his wide shoulders. He pauses to take you in, sprawled on his desk, bare as the day you were born. His grip on the back of your knees tightens as he pushes them open and back. “Here’s how the rest of this is gonna go, angel face,” he licks his lips, eyes trained on your cunt. The attention makes you squirm, your hole clenching around nothing as he continues. “I’m gonna shove my face in this pretty pussy and eat until you’re begging and then I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t remember your own name. How do you feel about that?”

You gulp, “I think- I think that sounds good.”

He glances up the length of your body as he lowers his mouth to your pussy. You watch, transfixed as he flattens his tongue to your slit and drags it from your hole all the way up to your clit where he leaves a soft kiss. His eyes close as though he’s savoring the taste and then he ducks to your pussy and spreads your thighs wider.

Toji eats you out ravenously, like he’s never had anything more exquisite in his life and he doesn’t know if he ever will so he’s eating his fill now. He eats you like a man starved, like a man who was fasting for a long, long time who has finally been given reprieve. He sucks each labia tenderly, laps at each puffy lip with his tongue, kisses and caresses each one. Drags his tongue along your slit teasingly at first and then hurriedly when your moans grow louder. He brushes soft kisses onto your clit and then licks teasing circles around the sensitive nub before suckling on it until you’re twitching in his hold.

When your body begins to tremble violently he pulls back to bury his nose between your folds and inhales deeply. And then he starts the process all over again, helping you up the slope of your orgasm and just when you’re about to crest he pulls back, leaving you to stumble back down. He doesn’t use his fingers and by the time he’s satisfied with how drenched you are, half of his face is damp and sticky with your cum.

When he presses a kiss to your ankle you feel the stickiness of your arousal and when he leans forward to kiss at your knee and then your stomach and sternum and suck each nipple into his mouth you feel the residual dampness of it on your body. When he kisses your mouth, teasing your tongue with his own, licking and biting at your lips you taste yourself on him and it heats your blood, has you reaching up to slide your fingers into his hair and hold him steady as you lick the remnants of your pussy from his face until your mouth latches onto his once more and he releases your knees to wrap your thighs around his waist.

He kisses you as he sinks the fat head of his cock at your entrance. Shoves his tongue into the back of your throat to drown out your surprised cry as he bottoms out in one rough thrust. He pulls you to the edge of the desk and cups your ass with one hand as he spreads his thighs and begins to fuck you. Short, quick thrusts that stir his cock along the softest part of your walls. You think for a brief moment as he’s fucking you with his tongue and his cock you hear the voice of some divinity telling you this is what heaven may feel like if you’re good throughout your life. But then he’s rearranging you to prop your legs on his shoulders and bracing himself against the desk to fuck you in slow deep thrusts and then you’re not sure of anything. Not if you’re breathing, or if he’s kissing you, or if you can feel your legs, because his cock is dragging along parts of you, you didn’t even know existed. Parts of you that have you drooling pathetically, the muscles in your body going soft and pliant under him.

He switches positions again, you think, because your orgasm slams into you with the force of a tsunami, and by the time you recover from screaming Toji’s name your back is pressed to his bare chest and a hand is wrapped around your throat while the other rubs at your clit. You barely recover from the first orgasm before Toji is demanding more from your body. His grip on your throat holds you steady and his other hand moves to squeeze roughly at your breasts and run up the length of your body. He tugs on your throat and your back bows until your head is tilted back and you can see that sweat has matted his hair to his forehead, his eyes are closed in concentration but you’re sure he can your harsh breathing and the loud slapping of damp skin on skin as his thighs smack against yours, his hips cradling your ass with each thrust.

You may have been about to say something about how good he looks like this. Head bent forward, expression fierce as he focuses on pummeling your insides but Toji reaches for something on the desk and suddenly his hand is replaced by the cool metal of the blade of his knife.

“Fucking cum,” he growls in warning. “Cum right now.”

You cum so hard your knees give out, and with a delirious sound like a garbled mix between a laugh and a scream. You forget our name. You forget where you are, how you got here, whose cock is inside you, as the orgasm washes through you, the pleasure drowning your senses and reducing you to a mass of nothing but sensation. Your eyes roll so far back you feel a moment of pain as the organs are stopped by the muscles. Your mouth parts on a silent scream, all the oxygen leaving your body in a single exhale.

“Fuck,” Toji groans. “Oh fuck, yes, good girl, oh- fuck-” Your insides flood with warmth and somehow Toji filling you with his cum sets of another orgasm in the middle of your orgasm. Your mind shuts down entirely.

--

Toji stares at Megumi, standing on the other side of his bedroom door, a scowl on his face as he tries to peep over his father’s shoulder. Sometimes it unnerves him how much of himself he sees in his son.

“You looking for someone?” Toji asks, propping himself against the door frame and crossing his arms across his chest.

“Where is she?” Megumi asks.

“She’s asleep,” Toji shrugs. “And she’ll stay asleep until I think she’s rested.”

Megumi finally looks at Toji, his scowl melting into a frown. “Why can’t she sleep in my room?”

“Did you fuck her to sleep Megumi?” Toji squints mockingly.

Megumi purses his lips, eyes narrowing on his father. He steps back and Toji straightens away from the door frame.

“I feel you should know that...the next time you let her fuck someone that isn’t you-” he points at Megumi’s chest, “-or me, I’ll be forced to do something reckless,” Toji says.

Megumi looks stricken for a moment. “I don’t let her do anythin-”

“Do you want to walk around with the weight of a man’s life on your conscience Megumi?”

Megumi gulps.

“Exactly, keep her away from other men or them away from her, I don’t care. Do what needs to be done to keep them alive and me happy kid, and if she ever gives you any trouble you know where to find me.”

The door slams in Megumi’s face and not for the first time that day does he stop and ask himself, “Did he really deserve it?”

@s4no @kenuis @audrinui

[melithril]

[Adar] Warrior Of My Heart

♫ - I Adore You - Miley Cyrus

TW: mentions of abuse (not aimed at reader).

A/N: This was a request on AO3, it's quite angsty but comfort too, hopefully you all enjoy it! <3

Today, you had not stopped. From the moment you had woken up, it had been quite the busy day. Errands to run, people to see, you were certain that you had not sat down for several hours. Your feet were begging for rest, and you were counting down the minutes until you could sit at the dinner table with Adar. 

Your lover was what got you through most days. The days when you felt terrible, or the days where the world seemed to turn too fast, you knew that at the end of it all he would be waiting for you. You knew that there was always the night, when you could curl up together and forget the days gone by. 

As you walked, your brain ran to thoughts of Adar. Of how much you cared for him, how you could not wait to be with him again. You had not been lovers for too long, but your whole heart was his in every way.

After what felt like an eternity, you reached you front door and pushed it open, a sigh of relief escaping your lips as you did so. Closing the wooden door as quietly as possible, your eyes scanned the room for Adar. You were being a little more silent than normal, in case he was dealing with any important business or simply resting. He never did enough of the latter, as much as you encouraged him. To your surprise, you found him settled on the chair in front of the fire, glass in hand and eyes focused on the flames before him.

"Adar?" you called out, though he did not move. You knew he could hear you, the distance was not so far that your voice would be drowned out. Narrowing your eyes, you took off your cloak and set it on the hook, making your way over to the uruk with concern.

"My love, is everything okay?"

As your hand took his free one, Adar glanced at you, a sad smile on his face. He had zoned out, and that was why you had gotten no response. Sighing, you pressed a kiss to the side of his head and sat beside him. This happened quite often, he would get too far into his own head and could not find the way out. 

"My light, why do you stay?" Adar questioned, eyes still glued to the crackling fire. You placed a hand on his thigh, still keeping your other hand firmly entwined into his own. 

You knew what this was about. Adar had so many fears when it came to your relationship. He didn't think he was good enough for you, he thought there was so much out there you could be doing. Adar never felt worthy of your presence, your time. He was appreciative that you stayed, that much was true, never would he take you for granted. But, it still bothered him that he never felt good enough to be loved.

You inquired anyway, hoping that questioning him would make him talk, and after that perhaps Adar could hopefully begin healing again.

"What is this about, Adar?"

A small sigh came from the man, as his eyes now looked down to his lap and away from the fire. The pause was long and lasted a while, but you did not push. You gave him all of the time and space he needed to start to get his thoughts out.

"I am no good for you, starlight. I am beyond that which you deserve; I fear I cannot and will not be able to give you what you seek from me." Adar's voice was shaky, a rather rare moment of complete vulnerability. "My past, Morgoth.. everything he has done to me, I grow more aware each day of the fact I am too far past love."

Adar had briefly told you of Morgoth's abuse of him and others, and you never pressed to know more. You knew he was abused badly, that he and everybody else was thought of less than dirt on a shoe.It hurt you to think anyone could have treated Adar so badly.

"It would seem I am far more broken than I first thought. He ruined me, mind and body," Adar continued, taking a sip of whatever was in his glass. "You should not be here, my star. You should  be elsewhere with someone else. A man a thousand times better for you than me lies beyond those walls and I would encourage you to seek him out. I cannot be who you want me to be, I am not strong enough for that. You deserve the world and I am too gone for that, now."

Simply put, your heart broke. You had yet to tell Adar you loved him, fearing it may have been too early to say such a thing, but in this moment, you knew for certain that what you felt was so real. A stray tear fell from his eye and you reached up to wipe it away. His free hand stopped you, letting it cascade down his scarred face. 

"No, you are too pure to touch something so dirty."

That word hurt. Dirty. You felt your heart shatter at that; you knew why he may feel as such, but you were focused on clearing those ideals from his mind. That was the last straw for you, and you broke your hand free of his light grasp and pulled his face towards you. Locking his lips into a chaste kiss, you felt his body relax, whether intentional or not.

"Adar," you began, pulling away but remaining close to him. "You have no idea how I feel for you. I care not of your past, it does not define you as a person. What does define you is how strong you have been to overcome these things. Morgoth was wrong for what he did to you, but now this is a new life. In defiance of everything, you are here. For me, that is enough."

His eyes met yours, sparkling with the strength of a thousand stars. You knew he needed you right now, and he needed reassurance. It was so few and far between that Adar was so open, and you took your chance to tell him exactly how you felt.

"My love, you are everything I could want. Do not doubt that, even for a second. I understand why, and I know you did not mean what you said. You know you are good enough for me, and I know you are the man I love to fall asleep with. There are no arms but yours I wish to be held by, no lips I would rather kiss. Adar, with all I have in me, I love you."

His expression turned into one of shock. You could see his brain turning, and you had wondered if he had ever been told at all that he was loved. 

"You love me?" his voice innocent, and you nodded in response. "I cannot see why, nor do I understand. I am not someone you should love."

"Perhaps not to others. What may be broken to one, is treasure to another. I care for you so deeply, Adar. What defines my love for you is who you choose to be in the face of all that has happened and all that stands before you. You truly are beautiful."

Your hand came to rest on his upper arm, rubbing gentle motions to comfort him. Adar all but fell into your arms, pressing his head against your chest. Your heartbeat always calmed him, and you softly hummed, running your fingers through his hair.

"Now, you listen to me," you spoke low into his ear, not disturbing him from his position. "I cannot change your past, nor can I predict the future and what it may bring. But, what I can do is keep every bad thought in your mind at bay. I promise you I will do all I can within my power to show you how loved and cared for that you are. To show you that you are a person worthy of love. To me, you are my world. I swear by the powers at be that I will protect you with all I have in my soul."

Adar's arms tightened around your midsection as he lay, tears falling fast. All you wanted was to take his pain away, to help distract him from his head. He didn't respond, and you didn't expect him to. You didn't want him to.

Adar's mind had cleared somewhat, the dark thoughts kept at bay by the shining light that was you. Confusion set in him as to why you would stay still, but he was so thankful to you for doing so. Adar made a vow to himself with everything in him to love you exactly as you deserved. To give you as much as he could. 

In your own mind, you had promised yourself the same thing. Whatever may come, you would be there with him, at the end of it all.

"Warrior of my heart," Adar rasped, eyes closing as he lay on your chest. Sleep overtook him as your last words whispered out to him.

"To the end of time, my love." 

Thank you for reading! Feedback is always appreciated and my requests are open! x

[yandere-3-sagau]

To Take For Granted 2

Genshin Cult Au x Reader Angst

warning(s): mentions of suicide, therapy, depression, summoning, obsession, yandere

word count: 670

Part 1

—

A lot of time has passed since you’ve been in Teyvat. While the archons and acolytes have been devoutly praying to you for years upon years, you have moved on.

The time you had on Teyvat had really affected you. You decided to go to therapy where you were convinced that your experience was one big hyper realistic dream.

Therapy helped you heal and forget and you eventually moved on with your life.

You had even met someone. Someone who would become your most important person. The apple of your eye.

You’ve gone through several milestones with this person and you were sure you wanted to live the rest of your life with them.

Everything was perfect. You were living your days free of stress, the happiest you have ever been in your life.

You fall asleep in their arms with the biggest smile on your face and when you wake up to the warm sun shining on your skin, you expect to see your lover’s resting face as you always do.

But to your surprise, they are no where to be seen.

Instead, you’re surrounded by the familiar characters of a game you had stopped playing many many years ago.

“It worked… the summoning ritual finally worked!”

The sounds of cheers and laughter that echo around you is drowned out by the loud ringing in your ears.

Your eyes dart around, everything spinning. Your fingers tightly grip the grass that you briefly note is painted with unrecognizable lettering.

You attempt to get up but you stumble, disoriented.

The breeze on your face, the sun in your eyes… it feels all too real.

“No… this can’t be happening.”

It takes you a bit, but you manage to clumsily push past all of the concerned faces.

“This is a dream… it’s a dream, it must be.”

“Your grace, we’ve realized our wrongs…”

Their words fall upon deaf ears as you break off into a sprint. You needed out.

“I have to go back. I have to go back.”

Your hands are shaking as your realize you’re back to the very place that had put you into therapy for years.

Realization struck you like lightning.

“That’s right… all I have to do is die.”

You look around for something, anything to end it. You keep on moving, pushing past bushes and trees before you finally come across a cliff.

You peek over the edge. It’s a long way to the bottom but it doesn’t matter. You no longer care about the pain or feel any fear of death.

The love of your life is waiting for you.

Driven solely by the thought of your precious person, you throw yourself off the edge with no hesitation.

When you open your eyes, you realize you’re stuck in place, far from the ground. The wind carries to safety and as you land, you’re met with the tearful eyes of your acolytes who are confused on your desperation to leave them. They know they made mistakes but haven’t they proven how much they need you? They’ve gone through so much trouble to bring you back, can’t you at least acknowledge them? They have so many questions for you but the most important one…

Why do you want to go back so badly? Because you have a lover?

Do not worry, you have dozens of acolytes lined up, all willing to be your lover. Not just willing, there is nothing more in the world that they could possible want. It is the greatest honor to be able to hold you or be held within your arms.

So much so that they’re constantly fighting each other for that spot. They do everything they can to seduce you and make you forget of your previous lover.

They tend to you in every way they can. You are never left alone. 24/7, there is always someone with you. While you are sleeping, bathing, eating - your acolytes are by your side.

Such loyalty and devotion…

What more could you possibly want?

[cece693]

My Little Dove (Lestat de Lioncourt x M! Reader)

This is something quick I came up with since I feel like Lestat is just a lonely soul who covers it with sarcasm and anger. You can use either Lestat (movie or TV show), but I envisioned it to be from the movie.

Summary: M/N was tired of being a prisoner. He longs to explore the world, but his sire, Lestat, has other ideas. What could be the reason behind this behavior?

tags: typical Lestat, the reader wants to see the world, mentions of Claudia and Louis but they don't impact the story too much, takes place before the duo flee to Paris, happy ending?

"You can't keep me locked up like some type of animal!" M/N screamed, glaring daggers at Lestat's back. It was the same old argument; when Lestat had bestowed the dark gift upon him, M/N believed he had been granted freedom—a chance to transcend the limits of mortality and explore the world. But once his eyes opened to this new life, M/N found himself a prisoner.

The vampire couldn't fathom why his sire forbade him from stepping outside. Louis and Claudia came and went as they pleased, why couldn't M/N do the same? He'd already spent a decade stuck inside the house, his only connection to the outside world being stories told by Louis and Claudia. "I thought you said I was free." M/N continued, his voice trembling. "But this isn't freedom. This is a gilded cage."

Lestat finally turned around, his gaze softened with something akin to regret before morphing into indifference. "The world is not as kind as you imagine. There are dangers you cannot fathom. I only seek to protect you."

"Protect me from what?" M/N shot back. "From living? From feeling the wind on my face and the thrill of the hunt? I would rather face those dangers than rot away in here."

M/N felt himself stiffen when Lestat's eyes turned cold. "Someday you'll understand why I do this, M/N." Lestat hissed, the monster inside him dangerously close to the surface. "But right now, you're led by these ridiculous emotions that cloud your judgment."

"Maybe emotions do cloud my judgment, but they also make me feel alive." M/N defied. "You, Lestat, have clearly forgotten what it means to feel." Turning to the door, M/N was set on spending the remaining night locked in his coffin when Lestat flashed in front of him. His gaze was piercing, maddening.

"You think I don't feel, M/N? You think I'm some heartless creature devoid of emotion?" He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. "My emotions toward you are what drives me to be this monster. You, my little dove, are a treasure I cannot risk losing."

M/N's breath caught in his throat. He had never seen Lestat so raw, so exposed. The monster was indeed close to the surface, but so was the man who loved him with a ferocity that bordered on madness. M/N reflected on all of the vampire's actions through a different lens, coming to realize that Lestat indeed loved him—or at least what he perceived to be love. The shared coffins, the piano lessons, the talks under the firelight in the living room.

"I—I didn't know..." M/N stammered, his mind racing. What else could he say? He couldn't confess that he returned Lestat's feelings, fearing it would only intensify the vampire's overbearing nature. "But it doesn't change anything. Lestat, for the first time, I'm begging you to let me see the outside world. Even if you become my shadow, I long to see the town and its delicacies."

Lestat's eyes flickered with a mix of emotions, his resolve wavering. The weight of centuries of caution and control clashed with the raw, desperate plea before him. He took a deep breath, the tension in the room thickening.

"You truly want this?"

"Yes. I need this, Lestat. I need to experience life beyond these walls, to feel the world with my own senses." A long silence followed, each second stretching into eternity. Finally, Lestat nodded, a reluctant acceptance in his gaze.

"Very well." he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I will grant you this freedom, but I will be by your side. No objections."

Not being able to contain himself, M/N smiled before embracing his sire. Lestat stiffened at first, taken aback by the sudden gesture, but then he relaxed, wrapping his arms around the other male.

Lestat felt a torrent of emotions. The warmth of M/N's embrace, the genuine gratitude in his voice—it stirred something deep within him. If granting M/N freedom brought them closer, perhaps it was time to reevaluate his approach. Could he protect M/N while allowing him the autonomy he craved? The idea was both terrifying and exhilarating.

[bloodycassian]

Striking a Deal - Reader x Azriel

Reader is a demon, capable of granting information in exchange for things she wants. When Azriel summons her, she may be more than he can handle. 

Warnings - ‘forced’ sex due to circumstance, bondage, unbreakable ties, choking, teasing, orgasm denial, HFO/hands free orgasm, cock milking, squirting, cum paly, g-spot and clitoral stim, fingering, mention of knot (no knotting), hand job, wing play, mention of blood ingestion (not super sexual, not in scene),

As always, skip to ++++++++++ for just the nasty stuff. <3

NSFW 18+ MDNI

Azriel was desperate. Fully, truly desperate for stooping this low. 

Still, he chanted on, plowing through verse after verse of the summoner’s spell.

He had little regret over what he’d done. Scaring away fifteen priestesses hadn’t been hard, but finding the right tome had been. He should have asked for the book first. 

“Of blood, and by this flame I summon you.” He finished, slicing a cut into his wrist deep enough to coat the pile of bones and herbs he’d gathered for this ritual. 

And there was silence. He glanced around, taking in the painted walls of the temple and carved archways. The moon was little more than a sliver, the thing he’d summoned could be anywhere. He scented his own fear and clamped down on it, forcing his mind to ease. 

To fear would be fatal, now. 

“I expected someone more powerful than a shadowsinger.” Her voice was like honey dripping into his ears. His neck went stiff, as if a puppeteer was controlling him. His shadows lashed out into the darkness, quickly finding the owner of the voice and wrapping them - no.. her - in bindings. 

Very much her. Gorgeous proportions and the hair, his mind went foggy with lust. He saw her now that his shadows had pinpointed her, and was wholly overwhelmed with the perfection of her. Something deep inside him rumbled with warning, though. 

This was no witch or sorcerer, not even a Queen. This was something far more powerful and deadly, and he struggled to remember that.

“I may be more powerful than you know.” He said, attempting to put on the saam air of seduction the female radiated. 

She walked through his shadows as if they weren’t even there, and again his mind quaked with unfamiliar fear. 

“What is it such a powerful shadowsinger needs then?” She hummed, bending beside him and plucking a bone from the floor. She stuck out her tongue and lapped at the length of it, staring at Azriel the whole time. His cock surged, and he cleared his throat. 

“I seek a weapon. Something to end a God.” Azriel began, gauging her unimpressed reaction. 

“And?” She prompted, taking another lick of his blood. Goosebumps broke out along his flesh.

“Would you be able to help with something like that?” He his his irritation behind an easy smile, watching her tongue. At least her beauty made up for such informality. 

“I suppose. It depends how much the asker is willing to pay for such a thing.” 

“I have gold.” He supplied, not convince his lowest bid would be enough. Especially not with a demon this peculiar. 

“I do too.” She smiled, and waved a hand. His vision went blurry for a moment, then all around him appeared as if he were in a vault of gold marks, gold pillars, stretching from the floor going up and up into the blackened sky. A hot breath fell on his neck, and when he whipped around, the golden eye of a massive beast greeted him. 

He jumped backwards, knocking his ritual items over, sending them clattering through the temple. He whirled back around, facing the demon he’d brought here. She shrugged, casting the bone aside and approaching him. 

“Show me what you’re really willing to lose, Shadowsinger.” She walked two fingers up his abdomen, to his chest and rested them under his jaw, forcing him to look up. “A weapon that powerful is going to cost more than anything I sense you carry.” 

“What do you want?” He hissed, hating how much her touch turned him on. Her nails scratched down his neck, and it was like a branding iron on his skin. Chills raced along his arms. 

She sighed, admiring the way his throat bobbed, the way the tendons in his neck stuck out when he was so tense. “I’ve been so… lonely, stuck in the Pit by myself.” She pouted, making his cock ache with the suggestion of what she was proposing. “No one summons us anymore. All you fae and mortals trust so much in your common magics and healers. No one is desperate enough to call upon us anymore.” 

He took a steadying breath, his heart hammering in hsi chest. She leaned in, so close to his ear he could feel her hot breath against it. “I want you… to summon me. To bring me back to this planet and allow me to live. Even for the short while before they pull me back. Cast this same ritual, and bring me back.” She took his hand and brought it to her breast, squeezing his fingers tight around it. A groan fell from him, and before he could even think about the implications of striking such a deal, his mouth was on hers. 

The deal had been struck.

++++++++++++++++++++++

The searing burn of his tongue upon yours was so deliciously delightful, so full of need and challenge that you could hardly feel the brand of the deal writing itself on your neck. 

The kiss had sealed the bond, the rest of this would be just for fun. 

“Your weapon-” You say between moans, pulling his tunic off and freeing his muscled body. “Will be found in the deepest lake on the highest peak-” 

He rips your clothes off, tearing and urgent with need. “I didn’t summon you for a riddle.” He growls, dipping his head to catch a nipple between his teeth. A sharp gasp escapes you, and you squeeze his cock in your hand. 

“You didn’t summon me as your whore, either.” You correct, yanking him back by the hair. He bares his teeth, and his shadows wrap around your ankles, thick and cool against your skin. 

“You certainly act like that’s what you’re here for.” He grunts, and those shadows snake farther up your exposed legs until they’re massaging into your thighs. A ripple of want shoots through you at their closeness to your waiting cunt. 

You’re too distracted by his hands and shadows on you to really give him a comeback. Truthfully, his filthy mouth could be saying anything at this moment and you wouldn’t care, not as long as he was touching you. It’d been a century since you’d seen anything other than the black pit of your home, and with such a gorgeous male before you, how could one resist? Your blood had been thrumming with need the second you’d crawled out of your home.

He pulls you forward, onto one of the short steps that leads to the recessed center of the room. “Now, what do I have to do to get you to bring me this weapon?” He rasps against your skin, biting your shoulder as he sat you down on the step. He pulls away, only to start lapping down your body until he is between your thighs, joining his shadows there. 

“You want another deal, Shadowsinger?” You pant, leaning back on the step behind you and spreading your legs wide for him. He groans and the shadows ghost over your folds with teasing, almost-touches.

“Tell me.” He demands, and laps at you with a flattened tongue. “Such a pretty pussy.” He praises. 

Your legs snap together, squeezing his head. “I cannot retrieve it for you, but I can take you to where it is.” You promise, and the half - truth of it feels sour on your tongue. You could retrieve it, but it’d take much more time than you had after you were released from the Pit. 

He hums, seemingly content with the answer as he laps at you. His shadows join, dipping into your pussy and writhing there, fucking you softly but with ferocity. Your breaths are coming in shallow, frantic spurts as you focus on not coming on his face. 

You want his cock for that. 

A lick of your power lashes out, breaking his shadows away and freezing him in place with a leash of your own making. Magic bound, he straightens at your command and the sight of his surprise sets you giggling. 

“You’re eager.” You critique. Sitting up, you take his cock in your hands and admire it, loosening your magic on him when you feel him relax and sigh at your touch. “Much too eager.” You observe the thick rivulets of pre-come dripping from his tip. You dip down and take a taste of him, humming at the sense of it. The salty, needy taste of him. 

You wrap your hand around him and give him a long, slow pump and he shudders. His cock is magnificent. You can barely touch your fingers together around him with his thickness, and the knot at the base of him is hardly formed. Was he one of the fae able to change his cock at will? A ripple of excitement rolls though you at the possibility of it. You stroke him again, and another drop of precome wets his tip and you tap the tip of your finger with it, trailing it over his shaft and up his abdomen until you reach his lips. He takes it eagerly still, enjoying the taste of himself it seems. 

You bind his hands to his sides, and ghost your fingers over his cock. Barely touching him, just as his shadows had teased you. He spits venom, cursing you with each delicate touch. You stroke him hard and through occasionally, but watching him be so needy for the touch is such a turn-on.

Your nails trail from his balls and up his shaft, then you circle the tip of him gently with the pad of your finger, swirling his lubrication there. He’s watching you the entire time, his brows pulled together and his lips a deep shade of red that matches the tip of his cock.

“I am glad that you were the one who’s summoned me.” You hum, getting up and going behind him. Even with him on his knees, he still reaches the height of your breast. He’s huge and lithe in his build, even his wings are a powerful kind. You touch them gently, humming when he hisses curses under his breath. 

That gets your attention.

“Sensitive. Illyrian wings are different than the wings of other winged species, aren’t they?” You question, raking your nails over the arches of them. He cries out, lurching forward but your magic catches him, hauling him back up and in place before he can fold onto the step. 

You kneel behind him, and wrap an arm around to take his cock into your hand again. He shudders and thrusts forward, into your grip. He’s needy and desperate and with you touching his wings he’s going to cum embarrassingly quickly. He hates how much he’s loving this, how the control you have over him is making him so fucking desperate. 

He fucks into your hand, his precome wetting him enough that it heightens the experience further. Your hand is wet and hot and not nearly as good as your mouth had been but it’s better than the teasing touches you’d been giving him earlier, and he’s grateful. His need is rising and his muscles are working, his balls going tight with the need of release. 

Then, you pull away. Your hand is gone and he’s left fucking the air like an animal, and he’s shuddering. “You fucking- bitch..” He grinds out, his abdomen flexing with how close he’d been. His balls tighten and relax, his cock twitching and slapping against his stomach. 

You stand and go back to be in front of him, watching him twitch and writhe uncomfortably. His cock is surging and desperately seeking more stimulation, The angry redness of the tip a delicious strawberry color that makes you salivate. 

You go back to tracing over him, and you can feel his power, his every fiber struggling against your magic. He’s close, so on the edge that you’re sure he’ll break with only a few more strokes. Good. You want him to. You want him to remember the only female who’d bested him at his own desires. You want him to fuck you endlessly, if that is the only time you have on this planet.

His balls are tight and heavy, and when you trace a finger along his ridge he shudders, leaning forward again. You allow it this time, catching his lips with yours and letting your tongue flick over his own. He groans into your mouth and snaps his hips forward when you make a loose fist over his cock. 

His needy cries echo across the temple like a song. 

You tighten your hand, allowing him to fuck into it for a few more strokes before pulling away again. But it’s too late. You pull back and watch as he thrusts into the air, his cock pulsing with his orgasm. He’s snarling and cursing as the pleasure takes him in a violent way. You watch in supreme pleasure as he gets what he finally wants. His cum shoots out and lands on your legs, your belly. The stone floor and steps. His spend is hot and dribbles from his tip when you release his bindings. 

He wavers, and his shadows return slowly. His muscles flex as he leans forward, clearly exhausted with the experience. 

His hands shake when he leans over you, catching your chin in his hand. “You are a horrible little thing.” He curses, then forces his tongue into your mouth.

He forces you back, so you’re arched against the steps, and the fingers of his other hand go between your folds, slickening them before plunging in. The most exquisite burn fills you, and is then eased by his curling fingers. He draws out your wetness, coating your clit with it and rubbing firm circles for a moment before pushing deep back inside of you. 

He uses his entire forearm and wrist while he does it, truly fucking you with his hand. His fingers are thick and they do satiate a part of your own need, but it’s nothing compared to what his cock would be. 

But this part of the game is up to him. You’d had your fun, and now it was his turn. 

His tongue is aggressive in your mouth, fighting your own and showing you exactly what he’d been doing against your pussy before. He pulls away, leaving drool on your chin. His shadows go to your wrists, and you allow them to lock you in place, legs spread wide and wrists bound to the floor. 

This is his turn. If you want him to stay true to his bargain not just for bargaining sake, you’ll let him have his turn. You could use him, sure, - force him in place and take him as you wanted - but where was the fun in that? 

“Azriel-” You pant, and he takes your throat in a hand. Not hard, not dangerous, but certainly a silent command. 

He’s working you deep and swiping against your g-spot with every stroke, and if he doesn’t stop you’re not sure if you’ll be able to either. 

“Making me cum without even letting me really touch you first?” He scolds, punctuating it with his thumb stroking over your clit. Your yes clamp shut, your thighs desperately trying to do the same but his shadows - as weak as they are - won’t allow you to. You moan, the pressure of his hand against your throat a devious thing. 

Your body is betraying you, reaching your high peaks so quickly while he rubs your clit. Your walls squeeze him, wanting more. Needing more than just two fingers. But his thumb is relentless and consistent, you try to fight the building orgasm but it only makes your g-spot more sensitive. 

“Azriel please-” You whine, panting and squirming as much as you can under him. His hand leaves your throat and instead goes to the back of your head, knotting in your hair there. He forces you to watch his hands word, how spread you are for him, the way your wetness shines against this dark skin. He’s humming something in your ear but you can barely hear it over the mounting pleasure, the cascade of twitching need that writhes inside you, begging to be released. A dam too overflowed, your control slips, and slips.

 You push against the heat, the pressure of the orgasm but again, he brushes into that spot inside you and your clit again, and you’re shaking - coming apart in his grasp. Wetness coats him, your own juices flowing out of you in an intense way, splattering against the floor and coating his arm. The wet sounds of his fingers still working you echo against the high ceilings and stone walls. 

You’re shaking, shuddering and breathing hard when he gently removes his fingers then laps at them. 

The sight nearly sends you into another orgasm. 

“Safe to say you’ll be summoned often, little demon.” He says, offering you a finger wet with your own juices. 

You take it greedily, sucking on his finger the same way you wanted to suck his cock.

“Next time I expect you to last longer.” You critique, earning a laugh from him. 

“If I make that promise now, does that mean we get to fuck again and seal that bond?”

[spirk-trek]

Spock Fanzine | Greg Franklin, 1983

T'HY'LA by Jane Callard

No man is free -- There are many things that claim his time -- And all other parts of him To those around him.

The deep needs -- Often hidden; I must yet admit they exist But they too have been satisfied; And I thank the Deity That has seen fit to grant this so. My friends that overlap in me -- Dear Bones, the healer, the sharp one An acidic joy in my days; Uhura, dark beauty, Heart of a warrior, jewel bright; Sulu, Chekov, so eager -- I feel so young and yet so old Watching them. Christine - strong and gentle, I respect and admire her; Scotty - so rigorously loyal His energy enormous. A man of machines, his mind is a gift That he hands me many times a day -- And every time I accept it I thank the stars and heaven for him.

There is another -- One other who is much to me. To be close to another being Requires great effort;

You have to give and give -- Yet also learn to receive: I love him Without shame or fear of ridicule; Too many times my life has been his To pick up or lay down; I have seen his joy, his pain I have watched his anguish and his peace I perceive him, he perceives me I am linked, mind to mind Spirit to spirit, with him -- My existence as a free agent Has willingly come to an end, Yet I am strangely liberated; Living with and through New hands, eyes A singing flaming mind -- My friend, brother, lover, Loved one. He burns -- coolly, logically, clearly He parts the clouds And throws light into the dark places Where I am kept by responsibility. Living, being alone Once......... Now I have a companion And though my home is in transit I have all I need close beside. I am satisfied...................