#Mindful Trekking Trails

[breatheoffline]

Mindful Trekking: Best Trails to Explore Slowly

Discover mindful trekking trails worldwide. Explore nature at a slow pace, embrace nature, and reconnect with yourself through meditative hikes.

[hikercarl]

How to Overcome the Fear of Heights While Hiking

Discover practical tips for hiking with fear of heights. We'll guide you through overcoming acrophobia while enjoying scenic trails and outdoor adventures safely.

Hiking through beautiful landscapes is a joy for many. But for those with a fear of heights, or acrophobia, it can be scary. Don’t worry, with the right mindset and strategies, we can face our fears and enjoy the trails. Our fear of heights is a real phobia that’s tough to beat, but doable. It can make us anxious about steep paths, being high up, or losing our balance. By understanding our fear…

[shomatoriashi]

11/29/24; 03:03pm

dragon!sylus x fem.reader

notes: for all the sylus girlies out there, this is going to be my thirstiest and most self-indulgent dragon!sylus fic (⺣◡⺣)♡ again, this is all just my interpretation and it may not even be close to canon!

warnings: monster f-cking oh my god i can't believe i'm going to do this since i've never written this type of spicy story before 😭😭😭😭😭 i'm sorry if this ends up sucking so bad !! i just want to type out my spicy thoughts hhhhhh

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

night had fallen across your small village, painting the once lively desert in somber hues of blue. with the moonlight as your guide, you drape your shawl even closer to your body to help with warding off the cold air.

as you made your way to the oasis, your mind was filled with anxious thoughts pertaining to your mother. she had once again fallen ill, her frail body being taken over by a fever as she struggled to even breathe while she lay motionless in bed. your heart was filled with love for your mother as you spent the night wiping the sweat from her brow with a damp cloth, not wishing to leave her side.

feeling your presence next to her, her eyes blearily meet with your gaze as a tiny smile paints her expression. "you should...rest..." even with her reassuring words, you refused to leave her side.

yet when your bucket of water runs dry, you knew you had to leave your mother to get more water. you needed to help her with breaking her fever, and in order to do that, you had to get more water from the oasis. leaving the damp cloth across her brow, you told her that you would return soon before setting off towards the crystalline pool of water. each step that you take brings an image of your sickly mother and the thought of how much weaker she had become-

with a click of your tongue, you banish such intrusive beliefs, refusing to even entertain the thought that you would ever lose her. fighting back against the cold, you push forward as you made your trek across the sands, noticing the palm trees and the sight of those ruby red flowers in the distance as they swayed in the wind. anticipation was felt coursing through your veins, your legs now breaking out into a run until you were just a mere few feet away from the crystalline waters of the pond-

but as fate would have it, you were not alone.

settled in the midst of the pond was what appeared to be a winged demon, his wings remaining spread as you felt pinpricks of fear clenching around your heart. your breathing was uneven and heavy as you slowly backed away from him, only to see the demon lift his head, his silvery hair seeming to glow beneath the moonlight.

"your heavy breathing is a dead giveaway." you gasp, feeling your heart jump within the confines of your throat the moment he suddenly appears before you. rufescent eyes gaze down at you in amusement as full lips remain tilted up in a smirk. your eyes trail toward his silver locks of hair and finally noticed the two horns settled atop his head (the image reminding you of a dark and regal crown). from his broad chest to the alluring crimson gemstone settled in the middle of his pale skin-

the demon was equal parts devastatingly beautiful and terrifying to you.

his wings end up engulfing you, trapping your body against his as he takes in a deep whiff of your hair before trailing the tip of his nose against your skin. as he takes in your scent, you were certain that he could hear the way your heart seemed to pound from out of your ribcage.

"yet perhaps what's more distracting than your breathing is the lingering scent of death you have..."

his words succeed in making your heart cease its beat, your fear now replaced with anxiety as you narrowed your gaze at him. "w-what do you mean?"

a look of intrigue was seen settled within his crimson gaze. "there's no need to be so frightened, treasure. you look to be as healthy as a mare... yet someone close to you-"

mother...!

you gripped at the demon's shoulder, allowing your nails to dig into them while your gaze became wild, "my mother... you're referring to my mother. please, can you save her?!"

he doesn't answer your panicked words, but at this point, you were willing to do anything to save the only family you had left-

even if it meant forging a deal with the devil.

"please, i'll do anything for her! if you have the means to save her-"

the demon lets out a deep chuckle, the sound being enough to send almost pleasant vibrations down your spine. using his free hand, he wraps it around your waist, bringing you closer to his naked chest while at nearly eye level with the ruby settled on it. "relax, treasure... if you're willing to do anything, then i suppose i can give you this."

as if it were made by magic itself, he gently pulls something out of your hair, extracting a vial that held a deep red liquid. "give this to your mother, and it shall heal any ailment that she has."

hope erupts within your chest, yet before you could utter another word, the devil whispers into your ear, "remember your promise to me, treasure."

and with those final words, he disappears away from you, leaving you alone with an empty bucket and a mysterious vial. not wishing to wait another second, you rush back to your mother, nearly pushing your body to its limits.

your lungs were burning now when you finally reached home, a quaint little hut settled near the edge of your village. you enter and immediately go to your mother, holding her frail frame closer to your chest as you uncapped the vial and open your mother's mouth, pouring the crimson liquid inside.

she coughs a bit, but manages to swallow the entire contents of the vial. once you were certain the vial was emptied, you toss it to the side, watching your mother with baited breath.

despite your anxiety, you felt your hope continue to grow when there were noticeable changes seen within your mother. the color slowly came back to her skin, her lips no longer appearing ashen and dry. along with those changes, you noticed how her hair slowly became glossier, and as she opened her eyes, it was clear that they were livelier than ever.

"mother...!" letting out chocked sobs, you cling to your mother, basking in her soft coos of your name as she places a gentle kiss against the top of your hair.

and as you sought the comfort of your mother's arms, you remained blissfully unaware of glowing ruby eyes watching your every move.

{ ... }

your life had gotten brighter with your mother by your side, healthy and glowing with vitality. now that you had her back, the memory of the devil and your promise to him became a distant memory-

however, it would quickly become apparent that not even demons would go back on their words.

one late evening, as you were in the midst of making supper with your mother, the sounds of a stampede approaching fills your heart with dread. the commotion doesn't go unnoticed by your mother as her eyebrows remain furrowed in response.

"what is going on?"

you put a finger over your lips, blowing out all of the lit candles as you listened intently to the conversation from outside of your home.

"our king has requested that we find her and bring her to him."

"but of course, as if i would be foolish enough to go against the drake borne from shadows."

upon hearing such a strange title, your mouth goes dry as your mind goes back to that fateful night-

the night the demon had helped with saving your mother from appearing at death's door-

he had remembered after all.

the sounds of footsteps grow louder and heavier, giving you little time to react when the flimsy door of your home was kicked down. dozens of men dressed in suits of armor began crowd around you, and your mother's panicked cries made your head spin.

"it's her, his bride...!"

"get your hands off of my daughter!" your mother's shrill cries echo within your ear as she tried to claw at the men who had captured you.

"get this wench away from us!" the broad man holds you close to his armored chest while tossing your mother a large pouch filled with gold. "take this as a gift from our king... consider it a dowry of sorts."

"you bastard, give my daughter back to me! SHE'S WORTH MORE THAN JUST A MERE FEW PIECES OF GOLD!" your mother cries out to them, about to reach out to you once more when you stopped her.

"no, it's okay... i'll be okay..." you swallow back your tears and meet her gaze, "i-i was the one who made a deal with the devil. h-he saved your life... and i promised to repay him."

a pained expression crosses your mother's features, "w-what do you mean...?"

the knights remain silent, yet still kept you in a tight grip to prevent you from running away, "that night when you suffered from a fever... you were close to dying... and he had sensed that. i didn't wish to lose you, so he gave me this vial filled with a deep crimson liquid-"

"you have been blessed by the shadow dragon's blood, do not let my king's sacrifice go to waste."

you felt your heart break the moment your mother's face crumpled a bit when she realizes the truth, with her hands immediately covering her lips as she watches you being taken away from her.

as they began to carry you out of your hut, you didn't wish to worry her as you cried out, "i'll be back soon... just please... do not worry about me! i'll come home soon..."

the last sight you had of your mother was of her falling to her knees with tears streaming down her face.

{ ... }

tarus city was what they called this place-

and you felt as though you were living in a dream, surrounded by glittering gemstones and polished gold. your eyes seemed to water with each new sight that came to you.

even with all of this beauty, you felt a little numb and homesick-

but a promise was a promise.

your devil held up his end of the deal by saving your mother-

and it was your turn to repay him.

you were broken out of your thoughts and given little time to take in the new sights as you were lead even deeper into the city. while the knights dropped you off in a golden palace, you were surrounded by women who helped with preparing you for their king. your body was stripped of your tattered clothing before being dunked into a luxurious tub filled with water warmed by what appeared to be heated stones. the sweet scent of rose petals fills your senses, putting you in a daze as the other maids worked on washing your hair.

once your body was cleaned, the women placed a thin sheen of rose oil against your skin, making sure that you were glistening before wrapping a sensual dress made entirely of silk around you. the finishing touches were added when they painted your lips in a light pink hue before taking you out of the palace.

and you were given little choice but to follow.

settled in a line, you follow the maidens as they walked across tarus city, keeping their heads down with every intention of bringing you to their king. your eyes take in the townspeople and felt a sense of discomfort fill you at how they were looking at you-

like you were someone that was meant to be worshipped.

your reveries were cut short when the women stopped walking, not daring to enter the gaping cave as they parted, settling your form dead in center as they made a path for you. with your heart racing with fear and anticipation, you step forward into the cave with your head held high.

the deeper you walked into the cave, the more you realized that the man wasn't a demon at all, but a dragon after all. when you were younger, your mother would read fairytales to you pertaining to dragons and how they liked to hoard and collect treasure.

and surrounding you was just that- an infinite amount of treasure.

you had never seen such riches before in your life. from rainbow gemstones and rare diamonds of every size to varying gold coins, it was no wonder that your mother had received such a high 'dowry.'

your eyes continue to scan all across the cave only to stop when you saw a familiar sight settled before you.

the devil's drake's back was facing you, and you watch as his serpent-like tail sways back and forth almost lazily. he lay on what appeared to be a smooth marble tablet, his wings nowhere in sight as he was dressed in his dark armor (was it even armor after all? or were they just a part of his body?)

"your footsteps are noisy, and you breathe heavily." the drake manages to reach out to your trembling form with his tail, wrapping the armored appendage around you as he brings your form down against the marble tablet. you land on your back with a gasp, heart beating wildly out of your chest when the devastating man smirks down at you. you were left gazing up at him through your lashes, watching as he closes his eyes before breathing in your scent, "ah, but it seems as though the lingering scent of death no longer haunts you."

he brings up a heavily armored and clawed hand up to your face, gently caressing at your skin with the back of it. even as your heart began to race within the confines of your chest-

you felt no fear-

only a sense of duty for fulfilling your promise to him all while ignoring the strange ache and tingling sensation felt between your legs.

"there's no need to be frightened, treasure." he leans closer to you, placing his lips against your temple. "sylus... you may call me sylus, for only you can call me by my name."

you shiver in response to his voice, feeling it reverberate throughout your body as sylus keeps his head hidden within the curve of your neck. "mmm, they did a good job, making you appear so utterly delectable for me..."

you gasp when you felt the tip of his tail travel between your legs, with sylus purposely sliding the underside of his scorpion-like tail against your slick folds. the odd sensation makes you writhe beneath him against the marble slab, your gasps echoing throughout the cave as you felt a strange pressure build up from within your abdomen.

"hah...ah... this feels... weird b-but so good." your mind was going drunk and hazy from the pleasure as you looked down to see his tail lazily going up and down your pussy lips, collecting your honeyed arousal. sylus lets out a soft groan before removing his tail.

"you smell so fucking sweet..." you tremble when sylus meets your gaze momentarily before descending upon your form. the tip of his horns gently gracing at the silk fabric of your dress, making paper thin tears in them as it slowly fell away from your form. with you remaining utterly bare for the powerful drake, you tremble as he lets out a guttural groan of your name, settling himself between your legs while breathing in your pure feminine scent.

with your slick entrance so close to his lips, sylus wastes no time diving into you, pressing his lips against your entrance as the sheer amount of pleasure he gifts you reaches almost dizzying heights. your hands grasp at his soft strands of hair, yet when he introduces a finger inside of your heat, you opted to cling to his horns for support.

sylus knew of how soft and pliant your body was compared to him, and he was able to maintain a certain amount of gentleness when he allows his hands to trace at your pussy lips. your sweet taste was all that filled him, and when he gently pinches at your hardened, bundle of nerves, he knew he was on the right track when it came to making you fall apart for him.

your back arches against the marble slab, hands gripping at his horns when you called out his name before allowing the tightness felt in your abdomen begin to snap. something warm and hot rushes out of you, earning yet another guttural sound from sylus as his tongue laps up everything you had to offer.

in the midst of your pleasured haze, you watch as sylus stands back to his full height, his hand gripping at the leather the covers his lower body before ripping them away from him. while watching him, you felt your eyes go wide upon seeing such a magnificently terrifying sight.

you had never once been subjected to witnessing a man's arousal before, watching as his cock goes hard while ready to be mated-

let alone two hard cocks that appeared pulsating with an angry shade of red. clear fluids were seen escaping from the tip, but perhaps what was more interesting were the ridges seen decorating the underside of his cock. sylus catches your wide (and admittedly, scared) eyes and smiles down at you. gently framing at your face with his free hand, he uses his other hand to help with further stroking his two cocks. "erase such expressions of fear treasure, for these exist for the sole purpose of pleasuring you."

sylus purposely leans over your, stroking his cocks against your slick folds. with a shaky sigh of his name, you wrap your arms around his broad back, feeling the strange ache become even more intense the moment sylus continued to rub himself against you. "my bride... my precious bride... i'm going to mark you as mine for all of eternity."

with those final words (sounding very much like an oath), sylus thrusts both of his cocks into your slick heat, making you cry out to him as your body struggled to take him all in. not wishing to overwhelm you with the flurry of new sensations, he keeps only half of his cocks within you, sliding them in a rhythmic, back and forth motion inside of you, making you feel not just every inch of him-

but each individual ridge as well.

the pain of having your purity taken was there, but more so than that was the intense pleasure you felt upon feeling his cock taking over the entirety of your slick walls. with his eyebrows furrowed in intense concentration, sylus works on pumping his cocks in and out of your aching cunt, basking in the squelching sounds that seemed to echo across the cave each time he rammed his hips back into yours.

"ngh, s-sylus!" being a now former virgin, you had never experienced such intense pleasure before, with your release rushing out of you in what seemed like an intense wave. the red hot sensation courses through your veins as you spilled your love juices down each of sylus's shafts, earning a broken groan from him.

"f-fuck, i can't last even a second inside of you!" stilling his hips, your moans quickly morphed into broken sobs when he pumps your womb full of his thick cum, with your aching entrance unable to hold it in as his seed spills out of your core in soft spurts.

sylus ends up landing on top of you, his chest pressed achingly close to your breasts as his cocks continued to pump you full of his seed. the intensity of his own release makes him let out a string of curses as he kept his hands in a fisted position next to your head.

when the twitching finally stopped, you were able to catch your breath, feeling the droplets of sweat running down your brow. it takes a couple of minutes for the post, lovemaking clarity to kick in, with sylus letting out a dreamy sigh of your name. he was ready to pull out of you, yet you had stopped him with your legs now wrapped tightly around his waist.

"wait, don't leave me..." you admit to him with heat felt against your cheeks. sylus meets your gaze while giving you a cocky expression, "oh? is my treasure getting greedy now?"

sylus lets out a rich chuckle before tossing both of your legs over his broad shoulder, making you moan when you felt both of his cocks harden while remaining buried deep inside of you. he begins yet another rapid pace while telling you, "hah, fuck, i wanted to go slow and be romantic with you... i had thoughts of spoiling you as my mate by promising to protect you and your mother... but that'll have to wait. right now... i wish to witness your further descent into impurity as i make you dumb and needy on my cocks..."

needless to say, your now husband and mate had successfully accomplished such hedonistic goals.

end notes: man sylus being canonically a dragon makes me so h-rny for him,,,, i need him so bad someone send h e l p. this is unedited, but my goal is to make all you sylus girles just as needy as i am with this post 🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[muntitled]

Ready or not | Park Sunghoon

-' Pairings: Park Sunghoon x Fem!Reader

-' Summary: He volunteered to be seeker. That should've been your first warning. The hungry look that had begun brimming in his eyes should've been the second.

-' Warnings: Language, Horror Elements, Established Relationship, Very Slight Fluff, Hide and Seek, Smut +18 mdni, Primal Kink, Fear Kink, Breeding Kink, Slight dd/lg, Praise Kink, Massive Degradation Kink, Spit, Cum play, Choking, Rough Sex, CNC, Hard Dom!Hoon, Desperate Sex, Public Sex, Sub!Reader, Subspace, Unprotected Sex

A/n: My contribution to spooky season

“I don't wanna play anymore,” You don't say it too loudly, lest you give yourself and your hiding spot away.

“I really, really don't wanna play anymore, Hoonie-”

A chuckle cracks through the dark night air.

"Hoonie," you hear his voice snicker from in between the shadows. "Cute." It's far. Not anywhere in your immediate vicinity. Where you are, it's just tall oak trees and stars.

A squirrel decides at that moment to scuttle over your sneakers and cause a very audible gasp to rip itself out of your throat. Through the crooked trees you hear a laugh. His laugh.

"Too easy," his voice reaches your ears.

Sunghoon isn't here. He hasn't found you yet. That brings you the first sliver of comfort that you cling to with everything in you. It allows you to trek further uphill. The little lights they've paved along the hiking trail serves as your only navigator through the woods. You want nothing more than to be there, in the light, but even you knew that would be an insanely stupid move. You would illuminate yourself to him. He'd find you immediately. You had far too much pride for that.

'I don't wanna play anymore-'

Perhaps you were hoping by repeating the phrase over and over again, that Sunghoon would magically get the desire to end this wretched game, but even as you travelled up the rocky hill, away from the bench where Sunghoon had been counting dutifully, you knew it was an impossible ask.

He was the seeker and he was counting excitedly, with a smile on his face.

The duty of the seeker, as far as you know, had always been the least desired. Being tasked with the responsibility of finding everyone else and being ostracised from the rest of the group- made to be a monster they all hid from? It sounded horrible to the brain of any rational human being.

Your bones rattle with discomfort when you realise that your boyfriend didn't particularly fit into that category.

As you try to venture deeper into the woods, away from your Seeker's approaching footfalls, you think back to a time in the evening before you weren't so cracked with fear. Everything had been perfect then.

It seemed like the perfect conditions to take a romantic walk along the hiking trail with your boyfriend. The hiking trail leads into a deep and dense patch of wooded land behind Sunghoon's apartment. Tall trees surrounding you both. The path leading uphill, on a winding, uneven road. At that time, the sun had just begun sinking behind the trees, but you could make out Sunghoon's features from the little lamps that lined the pathway.

You had been walking hand-in-hand, feeling quite secure, feeling starkly not-scared.

Suppose it was your fault.

Sunghoon had asked if you were sure you wanted to take a walk with him in the dark and you swung your clasped hands between the two of you, bringing it to your lips as you said, "You say that like you're something to fear-"

As you walked, he had watched you with a bashful kind of smile that was only exclusive to Sunghoon- fangs shining in the moonlight as he pulled his jacket over your shoulders. He liked having you wear his clothes, especially in public.

A dismaring, cute kind of smile that drew you in initially.

"Plus," you stood on your tippy toes as you whispered into his ear, "I don't really mind being scared."

"Is that so?" He asked, quirking an eyebrow as you continued to observe the nature surrounding you both with an innocent, oblivious quality. He liked that. He liked how you always managed to see the world through a pink stained lense. A world of puppies, rainbows, faeries, princesses- all that shit.

It caused something horrible to stir inside him. Something that wanted to take the innocence he saw bursting forth from your eyes and crush it. He wanted you to see him. To perhaps look at him with that fear you spoke so highly of. "You like the feeling of being scared?"

"Eung!" You nodded, still watching the tips of the trees reaching towards the stars.

"Wow-" he had said, "Spoken like a true crazy person-" you shoved into his side, a very deep frown setting over your glossed lips. Your braids were let loose, easy access for Sunghoon to pull on one as he continued his teasing.

"Don't call me that-"

"It's okay- I like having a weirdo girlfriend-" you loosened your fingers, sulking and ready to turn your back on a cackling Sunghoon and head back from whence you came but he kept your hands locked in his.

"You really enjoy it?" He asked, stopping at a bench on the side of the trail, "being scared, I mean… Do you actually like it?'

"Uh-" you had begun feeling thoroughly exposed under his gaze. He watched you like you were something to be inspected. His sharp eyes peeled you apart. Sunghoon, towering over you didn't really help the feeling so you beckoned him to sit down. He did, with a heavy plop, his black shirt and black sweatpants billowing from the warm wind. He opened his legs, allowing you to slot yourself between them. Even sitting down, Sunghoon didn't need to look up at you. He was so large and all-encompassing. It made you feel so small.

"I mean doesn't everyone!?" You evaded Sunghoon's gaze but he kept his train on you.

“No,” he responds, suddenly very interested in this topic. You haven't been dating for long enough to disclose kinks yet. The farthest you've both done is establish safe words. Every facet of your relationship was gleaming under the veneers of unexplored territory.

He didn't think you liked being scared.

He didn't think he'd be happy to know this. He keeps his face stoic though, giving nothing away.

"That's why horror movies exist, right?"

A short breath came from Sunghoon's mouth as he finally broke eye contact, seating back against the bench, "That's why horror movies exist. I thought-" He turned his head to look at your hand before meeting your eyes again, his face as blank as a canvas.

"You thought what?" He asks, willing you to carry on talking. Sunghoon has tunnel vision. Whenever you spoke, the only thing he was physically and cognitively able to focus on is you.

"I thought horror movies were like-” you kick a dead leaf on the ground “-Like edgier comfort shows. Like, Gilmore Girls or something-" That sentence completely knocked him out.

"You just compared horror movies to Gilmore Girls-"

Sunghoon wiped his sweaty hands on his shorts "Interesting, well- we should play a game to test this theory,"

Your eyebrows crinkled. "What kinda game?"

"Relax-" Sunghoon said as he waved a hand before his face. "No one would get hurt, not unless you wanted to-" there were a great many things Sunghoon said that completely threw you for a loop. This was one such statement.

You were used to it by now. The backhanded airy, fairy comments Sunghoon made under his breath.

You wouldn't be surprised if he had whole other conversations with just himself. Like he was in constant conversation with a voice in his own head

The sun had completely set and a jogger passed by the two of you in that moment, the final jogger you would see tonight.

"Hide and seek. You hide." he continued as if unaware that he was giving you a very visceral sense of whiplash. "Don't stray too far and keep your eye on the trail so you don't get lost, okay?"

"What-"

"I wanna make it 30 seconds, but I'll be nice and make it 60-"

"Wait Sunghoon, I'm wearing a dress-"

"You'll manage." He pushes you away slightly.

"Hoon-"

A chuckle as he says, "Baby, you better start hiding. Don't you know how to play-"

"Sunghoon, I don't wanna play,"

"One."

You were backing away as you stared at him and he stared at you. Sunghoon leant forward, planting his elbows on his knees as his hands swung between his open legs. "Two."

“ i don't wanna-"

"Three-"

A rock jabs into your calf as you stumble up the incline. Sunghoon nods. "That's it-" and before he closes his eyes, he shoots you one last charming smile. Only this time it's veneered with something much darker, something that has you turning and lunging uphill.

"Run," he said.

He volunteered to be a seeker. That should've been your one and only warning. The hungry look that had begun brimming in his eyes should've been the second warning.

Your thigh begins to ache as Sunghoon concludes his counting with an airy and bright, "Ready or not!" You can hear him snickering to himself, "You know the rest," before the sound of his heavy footfalls crunches over fallen leaves.

It was a warm and humid autumn night.

Your heart was thumping to the beat of your heavy footsteps beating down on the short grass. There was an eerie sense of solidity that sunk over the park during late nights like these, and the moon is your only spectator.

What ought to have been a harmless game of hide and seek quickly turned into a slightly disturbing rendition of the thing. As soon as you ran out into the woods, away from where Sunghoon was counting, a sense of dread had quickly began pooling in the bottom of your stomach especially when you looked around and realised you were quite literally standing in the middle of a hiking trail, at night with you boyfriend who is far too eager to play this game.

"I'm going to get you too soon," you can hear his voice, but you can't see anything beyond the crooked silhouette of tree branches. The woods seem to whisper through to your paranoia. Sunghoon sounds like he's everywhere, like he couldn't come from one single direction.

“H-Hoonie- wait-"

The wind picks up, blowing against your exposed knees. You shuffle against the closest treet, clinging towards it like it was the only pillar of safety you could confide in.

"You're making this too easy, baby-"

You crouch into a ball close to the floor, suddenly feeling wholly and completely alone with nothing but the darkness for company. The darkness and whatever hid inside it. A sinking feeling makes the pits of your stomach grow with vehement warmth as you nuzzles your nose Into Sunghoon's jacket

You had arrived.

Fear was clutching so terribly at your throat you felt you might suffocate.

You were a little kid again, terrified of the dark and everything that was inside it. Only now, you had a boyfriend and somehow, he was hiding in the dark too.

“Shit-” you place a hand on your heart, feeling it racing to ungodly heights. This was not only fear but panic. And bubbling just beneath that, was a strange sort of excitement that twinkled in the darkness.

You were in the dark for far too long. What if you forget your way home?

The panic was pulling at your insides, making them twist and turn and react to every sound in the dark, wondering when he'll find you, thinking he probably already did.

The truth is Sunghoon watched your shadow trek uphill from the moment he finished counting. He stalked behind you with his hands in his jacket pocket, keeping a safe enough distance away to give you confidence. He made sounds of watching your silhouette jump intentionally.

You weren't very good at hide and seek. You peered over your shoulder far too often.

At some point you looked directly at him, your eyes meeting his in the darkness but its like recognition didn't register and your fear was all that drove you further uphill.

He was watching from a distance as you squirm now. You had crouched down onto the uneven forest floor, pulling his varsity jacket around you like a cloak that might make you invisible. You were shaking like a leaf. And Sunghoon realizes, with grave finality that he's really fucking hard.

As he stalks closer and closer towards you, his sneakers break the backs of the autumn leaves. He's not sure what he's going to do when he catches you, he just knows he needs you, really badly.

“Shit, shit, shit” The panic in your voice becomes starkly clear, the closer Sunghoon walks towards you and the little tree you've made your hiding place.

You can hear him approaching because he allows you to. You shake and cover your ears with your trembling hands and Sunghoon's face is stoic and emotionless as he lunges towards you.

Your eyes open just in time to swerve out of the way until you're sliding across the forest floor. You try to make a break for it- for what, you're not exactly sure- but he pokes his tongue through his cheek, slightly impressed before he grabs at you again, this time succeeding.

He pulls at your ankle, before securing your shoulders in between his palms. you're wrestling to free yourself from his oppressive hold. You kick and writhe but he wraps his arms around your waist, dragging your frame up off the forest floor.

You're an absolute mess. the side of your sundress is caught underneath his arm, exposing your left thigh to the cool autumn air.

“found you, Dove-” his voice is hoarse as he presses his face to the back of your head. Without thinking, perhaps without using anything except his innate instincts, Sunghoon pushes your front against the tree- the tree that you had used to hide from him.

‘I win-” he whispers, as his other arm snakes across your chest, squeezing and pawing at your breast while you continue to writhe wildly for him to let you go.

“Green or red?” You shiver when his warm breath snakes against the back of your neck, your cheek colliding with tree bark. “Answer me.”

Against your better judgement, you mutter, “Green,” allaying his concern with the simple act of pushing your ass against his bulge. You realise you're not wanting to get away from him. You want him to think you want to get away from him.

“Take this off-” he spins you around as he furiously unbuttons his varisty jacket that had kept you safe and sound from the big bad cold. Your shoulders are exposed and immediately hounded by Sunghoon's lips as soon as he discards the jacket on the forest floor.

“F-Fuck, Hoonie-” you really like being scared. You liked it so much your eyes rolled to the back of your skull as he sucks bruises into the crook of your neck. You are hurtling into subspace like you've never quite experienced before.

Everything feels brighter. More vivid. Like you can feel the inner workings of mother earth, even under your sneaker clad feet.

You delve your fingers into his hair and you keep him there.

“F-Fuck-” you don't hardly swear but Sunghoon is sinking his teeth into your flesh while his other hand delves down between your open legs.

Instead of immediately making contact with your soaked core, Sunghoon breaks apart to watch you writhe and squirm underneath him. Your dress is completely hiked up now and he can see your hips canting up into the air. “You're so desperate I bet you could cum just like this, huh?”

His words have you moaning into the night air as your hips buck senselessly, searching for any bit of friction. “You were such a scared little baby just a second ago, weren't you?” His words cause the first round of tears to slip down your face. A gust of wind picks up then and you worry you really might just cum untouched, but then Sunghoon spares you and presses his thumb against your clit and you come almost immediately.

Stars cloud your vision as Sunghoon rubs at your clit, all while muttering harsh and unwarranted curse words.

Your hips are still bucking, even when the orgasm passes. You're so overstimulated, by Sunghoon, by the environment, by all the sounds you're being bombarded with from every angle.

“You're such a little slut you know that?” He brings his hand up to your face, speaking slowly and making grave, grave eye contact as if he was telling you a very very serious facet about your personality.

“Such a fucking slut-”

You're trembling as you look back in his eyes nodding firmly along and shuddering when he gives you that toothy grin.

“Show me,” Sunghoon says, “Show me you're my slut-” without even thinking about it for a second more, your hand finds his other hand, the one that had been rubbing at your clit through your soaked panties.

You hold eye contact as you bring his finger to your mouth, letting your tongue roll out before you place his middle and index finger directly onto it.

He swallows thickly.

Sunghoon forces his fingers slowly along your tongue, with the guidance of your small, trembling hands. He makes frantic work of unbuckling his pants with his other hand.

“You're such a fucking slut for me, you know that?” You nod, and a pained expression falls on his face as his fingers press down on your tongue.

“Fuck, I need to cum in you-” before you're able to think, Sunghoon pulls his hand out and brings you towards him with a string grip on the back of your neck he spits directly onto your tongue and forces your lips shut again.

“I'm gonna cum so hard inside you, baby-”

Your head hurts when he pushes you back against the tree a little too rough. Everything he does right now is a little too rough. It's like he forgets himself when he's on the verge of cumming in his pants.

He doesn't ease you into it.

Only forces the blunt tip of his cock through your opening, expecting you to take it like the good little slut you claimed to be.

“Sung-hoon, its sore- wait-”

He clasps both your wrists in his hand, placing it abve your head as he attempts to fuck his cock into you, “Shh, It'll get better soon-” he's slurring his words, pushing his hips against yours to force his cock even deeper in.

“Sunghoon promises-” he cradles your head towards him, “Hoonie promises- he needs to cum, yeah? Hoonie just needs you to be a good little cumslut for him- Fuck-"

“I think I'm gonna cum again-” you squeeze your eyes shut and grit your teeth and the sudden pressure invites another unexpected orgasm. He's fucking into you with reckless abandon now, letting go of your wrist, positive that you won't run away from him anymore.

“Youre fucking squeezing me-” his hips speed up in pace and his palm finds the base of your throat. He watches you with heavy lidded eyes and pink stained cheeks. “I'm about to cum so hard inside you-”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head and tears pool in your eyes because you're far too overstimulated. Your tongue lolls out and just then, Sunghoon's cock twitches inside you.

“Fuck, you're so good, Princess-” he lowers his head into crook of your neck as his cum floods your insides “Such a good cumslut for me- Fuck!” It's the loudest he's ever been during sex, the loudest you've ever been too. So loud that the silence that follows is absolutely deafening. Neither Of you can bring each other to derange your limbs, Feeling absolutely rattled from the animalistic sex that had just occurred. Neither of you thought you had it in you.

And yet here you were.

You don't speak because you're not a couple that uses too many words To communicate. All you do is rest your head against the tree bark, as Sunghoon languidly continues to stroke his softening cock inside you.

[forsworned]

Random shower thought:

What if you and Johnny were so close that it actually perplexes the 141. Like when you two share clothes and food, platonically cuddle up under blankets, and use each other's chapsticks because it's all the same to you guys, but they kinda leave you be about it.

So it's almost not even that shocking when you walk into the shower after Johnny finishes up. He's clad in his towel, barely hanging off his hips, combing out his mohawk and your eyes go straight to his Manscape electric shaver.

Your eyes drift to his happy trail. "You mind if I helped you with manscaping?"

Johnny cocks a brow and looks at you through the mirror, amusement written all over his features down to that Cheshire-like smile. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, you trust me?" You pick up the shaver and examine it, and then glance over at him.

"With my life."

"So?"

He unravels his towel and--

"Gol-ly! You are one hairy sonuvabitch!" You chuckle, taking a gander at his junk that seems to be lost in the 'bushel'. "I mean I knew you were hairy but dayum!"

"A'right! Ye said ye'd do it!!" He laughs, pulling up the washroom stool. You sit and get to work, both of you forgetting that the bathroom door is open. Of course, Simon is the first to pass by. He's not too surprised to hear the sound of an electric shaver while the washroom door is ajar in a male-dominated space. Hell, even you have your moments.

But he literally chokes on his ale when he sees what you two are up to.

"Bloody hell, you two." He grumbles, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Hey there, L.t." Johnny toasts his water bottle at him before taking a swig himself.

Your head is the only thing saving Simon's eyes from seeing Johnny's junk and he's thankful for that.

"What's the matter?" Price's voice pipes up as he comes in the front door with Kyle, both holding bags of groceries. Simon doesn't say a word, causing Kyle and Price to share a look.

You simply shrug and go back to what you were doing. Curiosity gets the best of them and they get gander at what activity you two are engaging in.

"Jesus Christ." Price groans, trekking to the kitchen wanting absolutely no part in your shenanigans.

"Havin' fun there, y/n?" Kyle laughs, stuffing a opened bag of chips into his mouth.

You turn to him with a smile, "you see it's quite a hairy situation."

Simon and Price audibly groan while the rest of you share a laugh. Add that to the list of fuckery that goes on under the 141 household

[kisakis-boyfriend]

OH SHIT UH baizhu x monster reader because I've been thinking about him lately. maybe something dubcon-y? I love pathetic men whimpering and crying 🎃

Author's Note: My mind went places, y'all… very horny places. 💀

Pairings: Baizhu x male reader

Warnings: Male plant monster!reader, dom/top!reader, sub/bottom!Baizhu, sort of gullible Baizhu, dubcon, handjob, facial, riding, aphrodisiac, mild dumbification

Why he had to run out of this particular herb was beyond him. As if that wasn't annoying enough, his suppliers were out of stock and wouldn't be able to ship him any more. The location of this herb has become increasingly dangerous, and no one could figure out why the men sent to gather these herbs came back… weird, to say the least. Nonetheless, Baizhu needed those herbs to treat his patients.

Was it a stupid idea to travel out there by himself and gather them by hand; yes, most certainly, and Changsheng told him as much, but a doctor's mind is a puzzling thing.

And that's how he ended up here; in the high mountains of Chenyu Vale. Normally, one would expect to run into a few monsters, at the very least, but Baizhu had yet to see a single one during his trek. There were plenty of other creatures, and the foliage didn't seem withered, so it's not as if this place was devoid of life nor on a biological decline—there was simply a lack of danger. Which is a strange occurrence, considering the reports he'd read…

That fact really should be comforting to the frail doctor, but in truth, it made a shiver run down his spine. His eyes nervously scanned over the immediate grassy grounds, hoping to catch a glimpse of the herb he so desperately needed — desperate enough to set foot on this mountain alone.

It took a bit more searching, but the herb in question was flourishing just around the back of one particular mountain. Baizhu carefully made his way towards the area, picking one herb and inspecting it to check its quality and that it was, in fact, the correct herb. Picking a few more, Baizhu comes across one plant that refuses to be plucked — an unusually tough herb, resisting his attempts to yank it out from the dirt.

As he goes to inspect the stem, a soft voice cries out; “U-um… excuse me? Could you help me…?” Looking over his shoulder, the doctor spots a person's head sticking up out of the ground—except their skin has a pale green hue to it, and as this person rises up, he notices how the ground around them shifts; as though the ground is a part of them.

Baizhu turns halfway, cautiously keeping an eye on you as he questions, “…What do you need help with?” The way your body flows effortlessly when you move—creating ripples in the immediate area around your torso—piques Baizhu's curiosity.

“O-oh! Um… it's a little embarrassing, if I'm being honest, sir…” you begin, “As you've probably guessed, I am not a human — think of me as a type of dendro spirit, I guess? Uh, anyways, there's this…ritual, of sorts, that only a human can help me with–”

The whole time you're explaining this predicament of yours, Baizhu keeps a watchful eye on you to make sure you're not tricking him. Even though you come across as rather sheepish.

“…I understand if you don't trust me, I just don't know what else to do…humans don't come around here too often, and the pain has become so much worse–”

“I'll help you.” He interjects. The sparkles in your eyes force him to hold back a chuckle as you thank him a million times over. “Please take me to this plant of yours.”

You excitedly take off, essentially a torso and head gliding halfway inside the ground, while this kind human with green hair trails just behind. Arriving at your destination, Baizhu kneels down, giving you a glance, and you return it nervously.

Baizhu eyes the plant inquisitively, staring at the odd shape and strange fleshy texture of the whole thing.

“Go on, doctor, I-I'm ready…” you prompt, giving the man a shy smile to mask your nerves.

With a quick breath to strengthen his resolve, the doctor raises his hands, wrapping them both around the plant and lightly squeezing it until a wet substance seeps out through the petals. “A-ah! aAh-” you gasp suddenly.

“I'm sorry—did that hurt?!”

You shake your head, nearly whimpering as you try to assure him, “N-no… just surprised me. Your hands… they're a bit cold…”

“My apologies, they should warm up soon enough. Shall we keep going?” Said like a true doctor. This stranger with kind eyes has been nothing but gentle with you so far, helping out a non-human creature whom he only met a few minutes ago, even if he finds your request a tad strange.

More wetness falls down his hands, pouring from the plant the more he squeezes and twists his hands around the elongated object. He experimentally moves his hands to other areas, and when Baizhu's thumbs rub and press on the tip of the plant, you're unable to hold back a sharp intake of air. Your eyes roll back momentarily, and you chomp down on your lower lip to conceal the noises threatening to escape.

The doctor eyes your pained expressions with worry written all over his face. “It's… fine — I'm fine. The pain… is not that bad… please, don't stop, doctor.”

As you wish, Baizhu milks more and more liquid from the plant, creating a pool of it underneath the stem of the plant—gradually creeping towards his knees and threatening to soak his pants. For the most part, it feels and looks like regular water, but there's a faint sensation of stickiness on his palms, close to the surface of the plant.

While this is supposed to be a medical procedure, Baizhu can't help feeling a bit… embarrassed by the whole situation. This plant of yours—it is a bit phallic. Not to mention how the method used to wring out the liquid is akin to… uh, a specific hand movement performed on phallic objects. The suggestive sounds coming from your mouth don't help that either. Baizhu can't ignore you when you moan out “Faster… faster, doctor- aah~ Keep stroking it like that… it's definitely woRKING-!”

The more Baizhu watches himself squeeze the glistening liquid from your plant, the deeper into a trance he falls — soon enough he's fallen so deep that he shamelessly jerks off the phallic plant until the tip opens up and explodes like a volcano; shooting thick, honey-like ropes all over Baizhu's pretty face.

The substance drips all down his features — clumping in strands of hair, clinging to his glasses, dripping from his nose and chin, and even a little sliding into his open mouth. “A-ah! Y-you… you did it… you made me release it all, doctor~” you comment — your words are the only thing penetrating that fuzzy mind of his right now. “Thank you soooo much~ But, could I trouble you with one more thing?” you lean forward, gently holding the doctor's chin so that he can't turn away from you. “Won't you help me again? It's the only way for me to feel all better.”

“Aah…? I don't… understand…” Baizhu breathes, confused and seemingly in a daze. It's such a precious sight to behold, really.

You reach out and slide a hand up and down the doctor's stomach, teasingly pushing his top up a few times before moving towards the edge of his pants. “You'll help me, won't you? You're such a kind doctor, after all~” you remind him. Baizhu's pants are quickly yanked down, removed the rest of the way by vines that the good doctor never noticed before…

With his sensitive areas laid bare for you to see, Baizhu gasps, frozen in place as your hands feel up his waist and thighs, pushing the latter apart so that you can inspect his body. Sliding two fingers towards his rear, you find that special hole humans have and tease around the rim of it. “Aha! There it is. I'm sorry to ask so much of you, but… I really need this right now.”

While he has no idea what you mean, the doctor senses something amiss within your words. Your fingers attempt to push inside of him, and Baizhu clumsily refuses. “I-I don't think… don't think that I can do that, young man… mm ooh~”

Impatiently, you lift him up and pull him towards you, hovering his hole right above the plant he'd previously milked. A little burst of liquid shoots from the tip, splashing against Baizhu's entrance, which startles him. The consistency of the liquid feels just like the substance it coated his face in earlier; thick, sticky, and warm.

While Baizhu's mind tries to resist, his body is doing quite the opposite, already lowering itself down until the tip of the plant is entering his ass. “A-AAH! Wait–!” he begs. But it's too little too late as your phallic plant penetrates him with ease, thanks to that honey-like fluid. The fleshy appendage pushes a wave of liquid inside his hole, and it creates a wet mess all over his ass, thighs, and the ground below as you begin to fuck him.

“Mm doctor… you feel incredible~ Hehe, look at that—this little guy is having fun too~” Baizhu blushes deeply, shaking his head while you watch his cock bounce every time your plant cock thrusts in.

“N-no… please, harder–! This is weird… aah~ so good~ ” the doctor grits his teeth, biting his lower lip as he grows frustrated by his own mouth betraying him. The cutest whimpers are the only sounds coming from his mouth as you continue your assault on his hole, thrusting your plant deeper and deeper. The amount of liquid gushing out of Baizhu's ass is ungodly now; sticky, squelchy, slick fluids that overflow with every thrust, filling his tummy until it hurts with how full it is.

“You're doing amazing, doctor! That terrible ache is almost gone, I j-just need to– guh!” you suddenly slam your hips into him, laughing as a pang of pleasure wracks your body and causes you to bury your cock in him. Your hands fly to his waist, and you bounce the human while he whimpers some more.

Tears begin to roll down Baizhu's cheeks, staining his glasses with a salty film as you release another round of that thick substance; this time inside the doctor's body. You pant wildly, mere inches from his face while your plant cock spreads open inside of his hole, releasing far too much liquid inside his belly.

[rose-gold-bullet]

[𝐢 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰] - Giyuu Tomioka x Reader

Summary: You get injured while fighting a demon and Giyuu helps to bring you back to health.

warnings: none aside from the injury the reader endures and maybe a gross amount of fluff

"It hurts."

"I know." Giyuu spoke softer than usual in an attempt to calm you down as he took off his haori to create a makeshift bandage.

You struggled to maintain your breathing technique as you bled out on the forest floor. The pain you felt in your dominant arm was horrid, but it was nothing compared to shame you felt as you were sloppily nursed back to stability by your companion for the mission you were assigned. You were a member of the Hashira after all; how could you let yourself be torn down in battle by such a low level Kizuki? You were able to land the final blow, but not without substantial damage to your own body.

If you wanted to be honest with yourself, you knew exactly what impeded your typically flawless movements; you were distracted by him. The same man frantically wrapping his haori around your wound in a subpar attempt to stop the blood loss.

You couldn't help it; as cliche as it sounds, you felt like his eyes were designed to get lost in.

"Can you stand?" His voice pulled you from your thoughts.

"I hope so. Can you help me up?" Your response was shaky and barely loud enough to be heard.

He slowly stood and pulled you up with him. You tried as hard as you could to steady yourself once he let go, but all the motivation in the world couldn't stop your legs from buckling. You gasped as you shut your eyes and waited for the harsh impact with the cold ground.

Unsurprisingly, such impact never came.

"Thanks." You muttered, trying to hide your embarrassment as you were being carried bridal style through the forest and soon onto a dirt road.

'As if I couldn't appear any more pathetic...' your brain assaulted itself with more negative assumptions than ever before, and you dug your face into Giyuu's chest to hide the upset expression you could feel plaguing your usually neutral features.

The walk to the Butterfly Estate was a bit of a long one, but it was necessary for a Pillar to receive the best care for mangled limbs.

Much of the said trek was made in silence.

After some time, you shifted your body so you could watch your surroundings. If it weren't for the trail of blood you were leaving with every step the visibly concerned man took, it'd be a perfect night.

"Giyuu, isn't it lovely out tonight?" You finally spoke.

"You're sounding dangerously similar to Shinobu. I have more important things to worry about, as do you."

A breathy laugh escaped your lips. You could tell your own injury was making you a bit delirious.

"You needn't be so serious. We both know I'll recover," you took a ragged breath, "I know you're a Pillar, but we're both allowed to enjoy life sometimes." You explained. As expected, there was no response.

You looked up at the night sky before taking another shaky breath, "You remind me of the moon."

"What?"

"Though, it's not nearly as handsome as you are." You spilled. You were too exhausted to care about whatever his response may be, and too inattentive to notice the slight blush that crept onto his face.

"I'll be sure to have the caretakers at the estate check for a concussion."

Once again, silence filled the open dirt road you were now following.

"I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused tonight. I should know to make myself more useful."

"You were more tha-"

"I think I'm going to fall asleep. Is that alright?" You intentionally cut him off as you knew you weren't strong enough for that sort of conversation. You glanced up at his face and waited for a reply.

He hesitantly nodded, "I'll wake you up if your breathing gets to slow. Dying isn't an opt-" Once again, He was cut off. This time, by the gentle snores escaping your lips. He sighed, exasperated, but was glad you were at least safe for now. With that peace of mind, he allowed the guilt he was struggling to carry lessen in weight ever so slightly.

'As if I couldn't appear any more useless.' He thought as he replayed the moment you cried out in pain over and over in his mind, wincing at every opportunity where he had the power to change the course of the fight but couldn't think fast enough in the moment.

---

You awoke in a bed you recognized almost immediately. You were one of the more frequent visitors at the Butterfly Estate, not because you were weaker but because it wasn't unheard of for you to throw yourself in front of enemy attacks aimed at others (most often protecting Giyuu).

"Oh good, you're awake! We'll let Mr. Tomioka know immediately." Three girls stood at the foot of your bed with a polite smile pasted on their faces.

"Wait- What are my injuries?"

"A severe laceration in your (dominant) arm as well as a fractured humerus and 2 broken ribs. Don't worry, Aoi took the necessary measures and you should make a complete recovery in around 3 weeks."

"Why would you let Giyuu know I woke up?"

"He's always the most concerned, miss! This time, he tried to sit in your room as you slept so he'd be there when you came to." One girl spoke up and they laughed in unison after. With that, they placed water and what you assumed to be pain medicine on your nightstand and left the room.

You laid completely still for a few minutes longer, piecing together the events before you blacked out. You felt your face heat up as you recalled the short exchange you had with Giyuu as he carried you to safety, and silently prayed he forgot about it.

Your thoughts were cut short by rapid footsteps increasing in volume from down the hall. Seconds later, there was a quiet knock at your door.

"Come in." Your voice was still weak, but it was a massive improvement in comparison to the night of the injury. The door slid open to reveal your evidently dejected friend. "Why are you still upset? The residents said I'd make a full recovery and the mission was successf-"

"I'm sorry." It was Giyuu's turn to speak over you. He hesitantly walked towards your bed and kneeled beside it. "I could have stopped this from happening. I could have saved you so much pain."

"That's not your responsibility-"

"It is. I'm there to keep you safe just as you're there to protect me. I failed." He closed his eyes and for only a second, you saw emotion far more intense than you've ever witnessed him showing before.

It almost broke you.

"You can't blame yourself for that! You're the one who kept me alive." You quickly tried to sit up to emphasize your point but flopped back down on the bed upon realizing you had no movement of your dominant arm to support you. "... A cast?" You shook your head in annoyance upon seeing it.

He spoke up once again. "Let me aid you back to health," there was a brief pause as he tried to find the right words, "As an apology for my negligence."

Normally, you'd immediately decline. You have far too much pride for your own good and would never want Giyuu to assume you were weak regardless. But a broken arm is beyond annoying, and maybe some extra time with him outside of life threatening missions would be nice.

You thought it over for a few seconds longer, "If you insist!" you offered a smile although you were nearly certain you'd somehow regret this decision later.

Needless to say, you were right.

---

"Giyuu, let go! I need to train!"

"You need to rest. How do you expect to even lift something as heavy as a sword with a cast on?" You desperately tried to squirm out of his grip as he pinned you to the bed.

"I'll figure it out! Come on, Aoi said I could!"

"No I didn't!" You both heard her call out from the hallway in response.

It was no use. The whole world was against you. You gave up, but not without pouting and complaining for another 20 minutes before making another pitiful attempt at escaping again.

"How have you managed to make full recoveries in the past?" Annoyance dripped from the poor man's lips.

"I'm lucky!" You grinned, before shutting your eyes and going back to sleep. You missed his eyes soften as he watched your sleeping form, before standing up quietly and leaving for a little while.

'Nows my chance!' You stood up and left your room, only to be carried back by the exasperated water breather, both passive-aggressively bickering all the while.

---

"I don't need constant care, you know. It's just a broken arm..." You trailed off as you thought of a way to get him to leave for a while. You enjoyed your time with him, but it was beginning to feel like you were being babysat.

No reply.

You stood up from your bed once again, this time receiving a suspicious glare from Giyuu. "Calm down, I'm only going to get some food."

He nodded at you, but didn't leave your bedside.

"You're... free to join me, you know." You specified once you sensed he wasn't quite sure what to do in your absence. He nodded once more and began trailing behind you as you made your way to a sort of cafeteria where recovering demon slayers can find food.

The food they offered at the time was ramen, which you graciously accepted, though knew from the start it would be a battle to eat it considering your injuries. You took two bowls, found a seat, and waved Giyuu over.

"Thanks so much for making sure I'm alright," you started, "but I swear I'll be fine." You stared down at your ramen before glancing at the chopsticks beside it, then back at the bowl. Maybe you could wait to eat until Giyuu leaves so you don't have to worry about making a fool of yourself, or perhaps you could say you weren't hungry after al-

"You should eat. You haven't had anything all day aside from your medicine."

You looked at Giyuu, then back at the chopsticks. You took a determined breath, then shakily grabbed your chopsticks with your non-dominant hand.

'I can do this,' you thought as you slowly picked up some noodles. Let's just say you weren't exactly ambidextrous. In fact, it's a miracle you got your feeble hand to hold the chopsticks at all.

'I can do this, I ca-' the very few noodles you were able to grab flopped back into your bowl and you could feel the hot liquid splash back in your face. 'No. No, I definitely cannot.'

Meanwhile, your so-called caretaker was struggling to keep his calm demeanour and you caught a glimpse of his mouth twitching up. "It's rude to laugh!" You huffed, but you couldn't keep a straight face either.

After a few moments, his expression shifted back from amused to concerned. "Let me help."

"...What?"

He took the chopsticks from your hands and picked up some noodles before putting them in front of your face. "Eat."

Your face became redder than you thought was possible as some recovering demon slayers snuck peaks at the the two Hashiras apparently sharing a meal.

"I'll pass." You choked out. Giyuu feeding you was not on your plan for the day. He furrowed his brows a bit and inched the noodles closer. You would've held your ground, but the growls coming from your stomach begged you to accept the help. You closed your eyes and quickly took a bite.

"Wow, I had no idea Tomioka and (L/N) were together!"

"I wonder if they were keeping it a secret. I always knew they were in love!" You both overheard the hushed voices erupting from a few of the recovering demon slayers in the room, but neither of you wanted to correct them as you took another bite.

---

You led Giyuu out to the gardens after your rather embarrassing meal.

"I'm not letting you train." He said firmly.

You laughed, "I know. After being stuck in the manor all day, I just figured we both could use some fresh air." What you said was mostly true; yes, you needed the fresh air, but it was more so to calm you down after what happened in the cafeteria.

He nodded, and you both stood in silence as you watched the sun begin to set. Being alone with him so long only confirmed for you just how much you fell for him; it was the comfortable silence that proved it.

You began to walk around the garden, admiring the way the plants glowed under the setting sun. Giyuu grabbed your good hand as you both continued to walk and you blushed at the contact.

"Don't worry! I'm able to walk on my own at least," you laughed in an attempt to hide your bashfulness, "it wasn't my legs that were injured!"

Giyuu admired your blushing face before revealing a soft, yet genuine smile.

"I know."

Notes: -2,204 words -maybe i'll update this with a cringe warning -cross posted on AO3 and Wattpad if you want to support me there as well <3 thank you for reading!! new to tumblr so bear with me here lol

[msgses]

trick or treat

pairing: josh washington x gn!reader w. 1,491 genre: suggestive horror, shameless smut summary: out exploring the mountain for halloween, you come across a lodge. thinking it's abandoned, you head inside not knowing what (or who) you'll find. warnings: very dubcon vibes, questionable morality, implied afab anatomy. no use of y/n. rough sex, choking, creampie. a/n: this is my first until dawn fic! i still plan on doing one for mike i just thought josh would be a perfect halloween fic

READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION. MINORS DNI.

There was a lot of intrigue surrounding Blackwood Mountain and the horror stories surrounding it. Deciding you wanted to go out and have fun on Halloween, you decided to get into some heavy clothing and make the trek up to explore the site of the rumors.

The trip up was agonizingly long, and the cold weather and snow didn't make it much better. Though, you still decided to continue exploring and came across a few fun spots.

There was a shed that looked awfully cozy, but unfortunately was locked. If it worked out, you might've spent the night if it meant not having to go back down the way you came in the freezing cold.

As you traveled up the trails, you noticed a large building in the distance. Already feeling like you could get hit with frostbite any minute, you decided to check it out.

It was a huge lodge, and you could see all the lights were off indoors. Getting to the windows, there wasn't any sight or sound of anybody inside.

When you tried the door, it surprisingly opened without a hitch. The inside of the house was eerily quiet. Abandoned, maybe?

Investigating further found that there were obviously people that had lived there, but weren't around. The rooms were empty and only a few stray pieces of clothing or a beer can was any sign of life. The heating was still on, luckily.

So, you decided to check out the fridge. If you were going to make the place your house for the night, you wanted food.

Just as you were opening the fridge, you heard a creak of the floor behind you. Before you could turn, you felt a hand over your mouth just as you attempted to yell.

"No, no, don't yell. You're not in any danger, yet," A man's smooth voice came from behind you, "I'm going to take my hand off of your mouth and you're going to tell me your name."

Just as he said he would, his hand traveled off of your mouth and lightly wrapped around your throat. Fumbling on your words, you sputtered out your name.

He repeated it into the air multiple times before chuckling softly. You could feel his breath against the back of your neck. "That's a pretty name. What are you doing out here all alone on the mountain?"

Your brain felt like it was going blank. "I just.. I wanted to see what all of the horror stories were about. If there really were monsters up here."

"Not the kind they talk about, no," His grip tightened slightly, "But there are monsters up here. Ones that are very territorial."

You felt your pulse rising in your throat and it only seemed to be getting faster. Your mouth felt dry and you weren't ignorant of what he meant. "Who- who are you?"

"Oh, honey," You felt him get right next to your ear, "I'm one of those monsters. You can call me Josh, though."

"Josh.." You had to think about it. You knew the history of the mountain from the google deep dive you did the night before. "You're Josh Washington, the son of the rich guys that bought this mountain."

"Ding ding ding, we have a winner!" He backed away, hand still on your neck as he raised his voice, "Well aren't you a smarty pants?"

You felt your cheeks flush and your mind raced with questions. "What are you going to do to me?"

That drew Josh back in, although this time he pressed his body firmly against the back of yours. A very obvious bulge pressed against your ass and you swallowed hard. "I'm going to show you what one of those monsters do when someone comes into their territory."

"Don't.. don't hurt me," You pleaded, although it sounded pathetic and weak.

"I won't hurt you, or I won't try to," Josh laughed softly into your ear, "You just have to cooperate."

You nodded slowly, feeling uncertainty all throughout your body. What he was going to do was uncertain, although the obvious bulge pressing into you gave you some idea.

"That's good," His voice lowered and his hands hooked onto the thick pants, "You're not going to forget me, sweetheart."

His movements were quick, pulling your pants and underwear down in a quick few tugs. You felt bare and open, sweat collecting on your brow. "Josh.." You murmured.

"Oh, I like it when you say my name," You could hear his grin from the way he spoke, "Keep saying it and maybe I'll be nice."

You felt his hand running over your ass, giving it a firm squeeze and letting out a low groan when his hips rolled forward. His free hand reached down and pulled down his sweatpants and boxers. His cock was painfully hard and you could already tell.

His hand also reached forward and pressed a finger against your hole, teasing it and chuckling. "Someone's desperate for me, aren't you? Pretty thing."

You couldn't suppress the whine that left you, subconsciously pushing back against it. He seemed to notice and gave in, his finger sinking inside slowly. It drew out a gasp, but you kept your composure as he worked it in and out.

"God, you're wet. I'd have half a mind thinking you walked in here wanting me to fuck you," He teased, pushing his finger in rough and adding a second to go along with it.

The stretch burned, but you were still breathy and overwhelmed by the feeling. "Josh," You could hardly get the word out.

You heard him laugh behind you. "If you say my name like that, I can't promise I'll be able to control myself," He withdrew his fingers and you felt his cock press against your hole, "Say it again."

You felt his hand close around your neck tighter, but you still got it out. "Josh." You repeated firmly.

"That's right," He sounded satisfied with himself before pushing his hips forward.

His cock was thicker than you anticipated and you fell against the refrigerator door, trying to catch your breath. His hand slipped off of your throat and both of them grab onto your hips.

His pace started out steady, even though you hadn't had nearly enough time to adjust to his size. Either way, he was going full steam ahead. Your hands closed around the fridge's handle, holding on for dear life.

"Fuck, you're so tight, did you know that?" Josh's voice sounded rough and airy, "So tight I never want to stop fucking you. Never gonna stop, you hear me?"

All you could let out was a broken moan, his steady pace felt unrelenting and hard to process anything around you. "Fuck, Josh.."

"God, baby, keep saying that," He wrapped his arms around your waist and began pounding into you. His thrusts felt desperate and unhinged.

"J-" You were cut off by his incessant pace, being completely overwhelmed by the pleasure of his cock hitting deep inside you.

He seemed to slow down, back to his pace from before, although he was letting out small whiny sounds. "You feel so good, can't help myself, no... gotta have you.."

His ramblings began to drone on, his voice quiet and largely overshadowed by the sound of his hips connecting with yours. Before you could say anything else, he randomly began to speed up again.

Just like before, he was fucking into you ravenously. He sounded like a mess, much like yourself. The feeling of his cock pushing into you over and over had you without any warning had your brain turning into mush.

It wasn't long before you felt a surge of pleasure, letting out a choked moan as you came around his cock. It was sudden and fast, but prolonged by his relentless pace.

You heard him whine behind you, his fingers digging into your hips. "Fuck, you can't just.. that felt so fucking good, I can't stop.." His voice sounded completely foreign to the confident, intimidating presence you heard before. He was gone.

It was even more sudden that he slammed into you, his hips staying firmly pressed against you as he moaned out. You felt a warm sensation and the pieces clicked together just as he started to speak. "Fuck, that's it.. you're all mine."

His hips slowly rocked before pulling back, feeling his cock slip out of you. Your knees buckled and you collapsed onto the kitchen tile, feeling his load begin to seep out of you. "What did you.."

"Monsters like to claim their prey," Josh said, his voice back to his intimidating persona. "Now they'll know you're mine."

"Yours?" You said as you looked up, seeing his face for the first time that entire evening. He was far too attractive for his own good. "I'm nobody's, Josh."

"Oh, is that so? Maybe I didn't make it clear enough. Let's do it again and learn, shall we?"

[alnilaem]

a more fleshed-out version from the third prompt of this post of mine.

cw for emotional manipulation, breaking in, stalking, smut, babytrapping, and dubcon to be safe

simon riley/reader

-

Something is wrong. 

Your suitcase is halfway past the threshold of your front door, halfway past your new grave, when you notice the hum of salt and tobacco in the air. Discomfort licks your insides and binds to your skin so heavily that you begin to sweat. A tinny sound peals out as you rearrange your keys between your knuckles, clenching it, and step inside your flat. 

Your heels are at the foot of your shoe rack. Your coat isn’t where it’s supposed to be, crimped in a pool on the floor. Your framed photographs are all inched to the left—you know this because you committed their placement to your memory—because you feared this would happen.

Something is seriously, gravely wrong. 

You feel like you’re lost at sea. Dull-headed and impaired under the alluring melody of a blood-thirsty siren. Walking towards their call, your legs moving before your mind can, spit in the presentiment of fear the same way insects get caught in spiderwebs. Stuck, and about to be eaten.  

You trek further into your flat, following the telltale signs that someone has been here—is here. A general shift in air. The stench of stale herbs and metal. A trail of silt on your hardwood floors, that of which could only be caused by certain mud-clogged boots tracking into your flat.

Here, you pause. On the threshold of your kitchen. Your stomach turns inside out and if it weren’t for your ribs, your heart would have burst out of your chest. 

It’s like you’re walking on glass. Every thin sliver that pokes your skin, invading you, is a splinter of fear. And it also makes it so that you can’t walk away—you’re frozen in place, watching him above your stove, setting a kettle to boil. 

He hears your squeak. Simon turns around, cotton-plated in his civvies, and hums. 

“Welcome home, Love.” 

The moisture leaves your mouth and rushes to your eyes. A film of dew materialises on top of your waterline. It’s thick and pearlescent and clouds your vision, turns Simon into an incorporeal blob in your vision, turning him into a trick of your eyes that you hope will go away after you blink.

He doesn’t.

Instead, Simon rests himself against your kitchen counter. He crosses his tattooed arms over his chest, tilting his head, and bends his lips into an unseemly smile.

“How was your friend’s place?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Simon?” You try getting your anger across, but your voice betrays your emotions. It’s heavily distorted by fear, waning, so much so that it makes him blandly chuckle. Like he can smell the terror roiling off of you. Like he feeds from it.

“How did you get in?”

Simon shrugs. “I’ve got a copy of the key.” 

“I changed the damn locks.”

“I got new ones,” he says.

“We broke up.”

“You broke up with me,” Simon snarls. “When I was at my fuckin’ lowest. You broke up with me and I didn’t agree to tha’ shit.”

“Simon–” a gust of disbelief cuts your sentence short. You grip your hair at its roots, tugging it, twisting it, coiling your face in frustration. “Simon, you need to leave.”

“You’re talkin’ like that ‘cause you’re mad at me. Give it a few minutes, and you won’t be.”

“Are you fucking insane!?” You yell. You draw towards him and slam the kettle off the stove. “You broke into my flat!”

“I had a key,” Simon says. He steps towards you, bullying you backwards until the hind of your spine catches on the cold granite of your countertop. Until your back bends over it, Simon, looming over you. “I’ve always told you to use the deadbolt.”

You bite your lip. The blood sticking to the roof of your mouth isn’t as bitter as Simon’s eyes. His are cold, depthless. 

“Fuck off.”

Then, Simon flips. His expression shifts in a whirlwind of seconds. Now, his brunette eyebrows are pursed and his lips are pointed down. His head is ensconced on your neck, his shoulder suddenly laden with an invisible weight as he kittens into you.

“Just came ‘cause I wanted to talk…” he mumbles. “One a’ my men died on me yesterday. Got early R&R for it. Thought you’d be happy to see me...”

You’re motionless as Simon clemently begins kissing your neck. You split your hands on his chest and try shoving him away, but he doesn’t move. He’s as solid as rock. Pushing himself into you, grovelling into your sleek skin. 

A phantom chain is tightening around your throat. You don’t know what to say. You don’t know what you can say. You feel that with any words that poise themselves on your tongue, Simon won’t take kindly to. 

“Simon… I’m sorry for you. I really am,” you slip out from under him and step back. “But this isn’t the way to go about it. We’re adults. And I’m asking you to leave.”

Simon raises his head, lukewarm. He stares at you through his half-lidded eyes, breathing heavily, clenching his fist around the lip of your countertop. Thickly, you swallow. You fidget with your cardigan and hope it will offset the discomfort hanging in the air. Simon takes a deep breath, sucking it all up—the discomfort, the presentiment—and you expect his huffing to precede an explosive reaction, but it doesn’t come. He just slips himself off the island and turns around, quiet when he speaks.

“Yeah,” he hums. “My old man didn’t want anythin’ to do with me, so why should you?” 

Your eyes widen. Though you’ve spent so much time trying to bury it, trying to familiarise yourself with Simon’s sick gambits, a pang of guilt hits you hard.

“Don’t say things like that,” you point an accusing finger to his chest, “it isn’t fair.” 

“No, no,” he grumbles. “Makes sense, does’n’it? My old man walked out on me, so I should handle you walking out on me, too.”

Simon shudders with a long breath. He slaps his face into his hands, and it’s at this point, does your knee-jerk impulse to comfort him take hold of you. The last of your even-tempered brain screams at you—he’s trying to ply you with a humanised side of him, but that side died a long time ago—but you press forward and awkwardly bring him into your arms, patting him on the back. 

“Simon, I’m… sorry, okay?” He buries his head in your neck, nips at your skin. “I’m sorry.”

“Can’t you jus’ yell at me tomorrow?” He asks. Simon slips his hands into the depression of your waist, pulling you against his chest. Against the ever-rising tent of his jeans. 

Your mind protests, but Simon keeps you close. He stinks of sweat, impairing you with it, spinning you around and pushing you against the counter. 

“Simon–”

“Shhh,” he hums, catching his fingers on the hem of your leggings. “Y’said we can talk later. ’m tired, Love. Just need you right now.” 

Any protests rot on your tongue because the wind is knocked out of you as you’re folded over the counter. Simon’s hands travel, gripping every part of you, rekindling old bruises left behind and making space for new ones. 

He ruts into you, cock fattening in his boxers and stressing against his jeans. He slides a hand over the divots of your spine and bends it around your neck, hoisting your head back, huffing into your ear. 

“You’ve no idea how much I missed y’Love,” Simon’s humping you now. Rutting himself against your ass with unrestrained vigour. He bites the husk of your ear, flattens you against the counter, and sinks a hand below your waistband. He spreads your pussy open like the shell of a fruit, pushing his thick fingers into its flesh, knuckle-deep and kneading you. 

“How’s here?” He grumbles. You whine, and he twists himself deeper. “What about there?” 

Your mind and body wrestle between pushing him away and yielding under his touch. Simon fucks his fingers a little deeper, a little meaner, into you, and chuckles when you squeal. 

He rests his chin on your shoulder, and you see a sliver of bared teeth as his lips hitch up into a gnarled smile. “Ah, so that’s the spot, innit?”

You’re dew-skinned and fuzzy when Simon throws you over his shoulder, carrying you to your bedroom. Your tongue is heavy and numb and bootless against any objections as he throws you on the mattress, standing balefully at the foot of the bed. 

If you were a child, you’d hide under your sheets until he disappeared. But you’re not a child, and Simon doesn’t disappear. He sinks his knees into your bed and swipes his shirt off over his head, unbuckling his belt in one slick motion. 

He unzips his jeans and doesn’t even pull his balls out, just cups the gauze of his boxers beneath it and leans onto his hands.

A pearlescent bead of precum slips down the slit of Simon’s dick and drools onto your comforter. He wraps his hand around it, slips his palm up and down, tugging down your pants.

Your legs kick into a paltry complaint, but Simon pins your legs down. 

“No reason in fighting,” he says, rubbing his cockhead against your clit, “You’re so wet, Love.”

Simon nudges your panties to the side and thumbs your clit. Leans in for a biting kiss and swallows your moans, slapping his fat cock against your puffy, wet cunt. 

“Missed me just as bad, eh?” He huffs, setting his dick against your winking hole, pushing past your first ring of muscle and rolling at the sticky sound of your cunt spreading open.

“Simon–” you hic, latching onto his forearms. Trying to offset his bruising grip on your hips as he falls into a steady, deep rhythm. “At least wear a condom.”

He’s so thick, so heavy between your legs. Hoisting you onto his thighs and leaning over you, snapping his cock into you. He screws his face tight, pellets of sweat running down his marred collarbone. Congealing into the spindly, blonde threads of hair on his chest. Down to the wire of steel wool that thickens on his pelvis, pinching your clit each time he slams into you.

“You’re stayin’ with me, Pup,” he pants, kissing a stripe up your neck, suckling on your pebbled nipple. “Gonna gimme a litter, ain’t you? Just like we talked about?”

A little, lone tear slips down your hot cheek. Simon leans in and licks it off. He stuffs himself to the hilt, shuddering with abrupt pleasure as he skips to his feet and folds you in half, pounding into you, biting down on your shoulder.

It hits you like whiplash when Simon pushes himself so deep that you feel him swelling under your skin. He gives you no warning before emptying his balls inside you, flooding you with a white-hot come, clutching your jaw into a wet, messy kiss.

You’re blinded and eclipsed by pain as your orgasm shoots through you. The pleasure is numbing and makes you quiver, tremble, until you’re gushing around Simon’s cock and swivelling your hips to get away.

You’re shaking when he pulls back, giving your pussy no time to soften. Simon gives it a swat and flays himself off of you, heading to the bathroom. You hear the cellophane of your birth control peeling open, and the successive thunk as Simon tosses it into the bin. 

You try getting up but Simon flattens you back as he crawls in bed next to you. There’s a hand of his on your waist, seemingly benign, but tightens itself each time you try slipping away. Your sniffles are piercing and Simon pulls you close. Brushes your tears away, kisses your eyelids. 

“You’re not gonna leave me now, eh? You can’t,” he whispers, “you’re all I’ve got. You and our baby. You can’t leave me now.”

A pitiful cry escapes you. Simon takes that as agreement.

[s-i-ll-y-w-i-ll-y]

Stalking

Hannigram x teen!reader

Summary: On their walk home, Y/N decides to help a cute couple with directions to a nearby hotel. However, this act of kindness is proof that what goes around does not come back around.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bus screeched to a halt on an empty back road less than a mile away from your house. Your shift was finally done and you could relax until the cycle repeated tomorrow. A meek ‘thank you’ slipped from your mouth as you walked off the bus, a small smile on your lips as you turned your music up.

Gently bopping your head to the tune, you made your way across the road, lifting a hand to silently thank the car that had stopped to let you cross. The clouds slowly drifted across the navy sky, small specks of light tucked themselves behind the clouds then peeked back out as the obstructions moved along. The moon shone down and illuminated the wide road and dusty trail you stood on, the outlines of trees cast onto the ground below you.

God, it was beautiful.

Despite how eerie it was, it was beautiful.

The road seemed calm tonight, usually it was busy because it was a way to get to the city you just came from. Not tonight.

Thank god.

As you continued to walk down the path, cars whizzing past you at a million miles per hour, you couldn’t help but feel a small creeping sensation that something was wrong.

Something was going to be wrong.

But, for some strange reason, you ignored it. Why you ignored, you had no idea why you did, but you did.

You kicked up dirt as you walked, loving the way it looked on the ground, dancing in the gentle breeze. That gut feeling plagued you, growing more and more until-

“Hi, excuse me?”

A soft voice made you peel off your headphones, letting them fall to your neck, and look over to the road. You planted your feet and settled your eyes on the man who was still rolling down his car window.

You stepped slightly closer and put your hands in your pockets. “Can I help you, sir?”

The man was thin and pale, his features hardly in the poor light of the car. The man wore a flannel shirt and dark jeans, a brown belt holding them up. He had brown, curly hair that draped over his forehead, he had a button nose and slightly stubble. The man cleared his throat and gave a small smile, “Me and my husband were wondering if you could give us directions to hotel…hotel…Hannibal, what was the hotels name again?” The man turned to the man sat beside him.

“Cecilia. Hotel Cecilia.” The man’s husband, Hannibal, gave a thin lipped smile as he spoke to his partner. His husband looked older than him, not by a lot but enough to see the difference. He had mostly grey hair with spots of brown sprinkled about, his eyes were a hazel colour, his nose arched up in the middle but it suited him. He wore a clearly rich and tailored suit; red with a black pattern stitched into it, a black shirt and a red tie.

You listened as the man thanked his husband and turned back to you. Thinking as fast as you could, you tried to remember the way there. Then it clicked. A gentle grin slipped onto your lips as you spoke, watching the man in the drivers seat take a mental note of everything you had said. As you stopped, you looked back at the road, the headlights were the only thing stopping the inky blackness from enveloping the car and you. It was going to be such a trek and your parents wanted you home by ten.

“Thank you so so much.” The man said, “We would’ve used our phones but they’ve both gone and died, thanks to our luck.”

You chuckled along with the man’s slight attempt at a joke. “It’s no problem, I’m happy to help.”

A few thoughts ran through the man’s mind before he stopped thinking and said the first thing we could think of:

“Do you want a ride?”

That feeling crept up your spine, making you feel queasy. As nice as it was for him to ask it was still odd. You didn’t know them, they didn’t know you. “It’s fine, my house isn’t too far-“

“We insist. We would be lost without you.” The husband chimed in. “And, it is getting late, your parents would want you home, wouldn’t they?”

That feeling in your stomach reached the back of your throat, urging you to turn and run. For once, you decided to trust your gut feeling-

“Thank you but I’m alright.” Politely, you stepped away from the car and turned to keep walking. The men shared a look then looked back at you as you began to walk away.

You heard the engine stall before starting, then they took off down the road and that was the last you saw of them.

~~~

Around twenty minutes later, your trail lead you in front of a gas station. The neon lights from each sign shone onto the bleak road, painting it in hues of orange, green and white. The pale light reflected off of car windows and side view mirrors, hitting your eyes sharply.

You hadn’t drank anything in a while, plus you would have to wait an extra ten minutes to heat up your dinner when you got back home so what’s the big deal with a quick snack stop?Glancing away, you tried to check for oncoming cars and, luckily, there was nothing. Then you crossed the gravel, eventually reaching entrance to the gas station.

A satisfying ding announced your arrival to the pimply clerk behind the counter who gave you a less than enthusiastic look. Ignoring him, you browsed the aisles, trying to find anything that would be easy to eat and drink on the go. You swore to yourself; no sandwiches, no fiddly wrappers or bottle caps, just easy to open things.

Needing to keep yourself awake, you bought yourself an energy drink then you made your way over to the snack aisle which stood in front of the main entrance. As you scanned over your options, the bright, white headlights outside blinded you. Although it was a minor inconvenience, you scowled at the car, still unable to see who was driving, and internally swore at them for their accidental action.

After finally deciding on a snack, you walked over to the counter and placed your things down. You slipped your headphones down and around your neck, music paused, casting an odd silence which was subtly interrupted by the radio station which echoed from the broken speakers.

The cashier huffed and scanned the items slowly, as if even the thought of doing his job was strenuous. Your eyes wandered back out the window, tuning out the cashier slightly as your eyes scanned over the few cars that were refuelling, one was the car those two men had driven earlier.

That’s odd.

Didn’t they go flying up the road? How were they here at the same time as you if they did?

The clicking of the cashier’s fingers snapped you back to reality. “Sorry.” You mumbled halfheartedly, scrambling to grab the money from your pocket. In the midst of the scramble, you tried to pick up your drink, only for it to fall and burst on the floor. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry, d’you want me to-“

The cashier sighed loudly, “No, it’s fine. I’ll get it.” Then he walked to the back, returning with a wet floor sign in hand. You listened subtly as an array of swears left his lips as he slammed the sign onto the floor and trudged over to the drink aisle, grabbing another of the same drink for you.

As this happened, and while your mind was distant from your body, the same satisfying ding rung out again. When your mind finally snapped back, you registered that someone had walked in and you glanced over your shoulder.

Then you saw them.

The two men were tall, taller than you thought and taller than you by a mile.

When you realised you were staring, your head whipped back around to the counter, fingers rhythmically tapped against the cool, grey countertop.

As the cashier you had walked back over, another from the back room walked out to help the two men. The moved to the counter beside you, only paying for a bottle of water and their gas. The cashier helping you handed the new drink to you, a forced smile plastered on their face. A small thank you left your lips as you turned and left, avoiding the men at the counter.

The cold night air enveloped you, an unwelcome sensation slivering up your spine. You glanced over your shoulder and watched as the two men walked out the gas station, their silhouettes ominously still, the light from the gas station surrounding them entirely, making them appear ethereal.

That sinking feeling slipped down your throat once again, making you start walking faster. The headlights from the car slowly trailed behind you before catching up and going just fast enough to keep you in the rear view mirror.

Maybe you were just paranoid? Who knows. At this point you were not willing to see if your gut feeling was true.

~

Your feet carried you for another fifteen minutes, leaving you with only fifteen more until you reached the safe warmth of your home and the welcoming embrace of your parents.

The turn for your road came eventually, just a small dirt path off the side of the road with pine trees boxing in each side of the road. Quickly, you made the turn, gazing over your shoulder to see if the car had kept driving.

It did.

Despite the relief you felt, that underlying tone of worry had settled in the pit of your stomach. This refused to let you calm, keeping you in a horrible fight or flight state.

As you walked down the road wearily. Your headphones stayed on, helping you tune out some fear you had. Although this worked for a while, the feeling of being watched slipped into the back of your mind. You pushed that thought down, reminding yourself you had ten minutes left until you were home, until you were safe. As hard as you tried, nothing could keep this feeling down.

Suddenly, as if out of your control, you whipped your head around. Your face dropped.

There, following you from behind, was that car, it’s headlights turned off. You hadn’t heard the engine over your music. Then the car stopped, your heart sank. Their doors opened and the men stepped out, slowly making their way over to you cautiously, as if trying to keep an animal calm. Every step the men took was calculated, deciding what would keep you from freaking out and doing something drastic.

Nothing could at this point.

You took off down the road, leaping over potholes and racing through puddles. Your clothes were ruined and you were freezing.

With trembling hands, you reached for your phone, your legs moving as fast as they could. The sound of the men’s footsteps grew louder amongst the sounds of the forest which, despite being a few feet away, sounded so distant over the sound of your heart. Your eyes moved down to your phone screen, hands racing to dial your parents or 911.

In a blur, your phone flew from your hand as your shoe caught on a rock in the road, sending you flying onto your front. You lay there for a minute, your head spinning as you thought about everything. In an instant, you snapped back, getting to your feet, ignoring the stinging pain from your knee.

From then on, you staggered down the road, your injured knee making it neatly impossible to run. That would be your demise.

The heavy weight of a blunt object, you assumed to be a crowbar, smacked against the side of your head, knocking you to the floor and leaving you partially unconscious. The immense feeling of dread spilled up and went out your eyes. Tears flowed down your flushed cheeks as the man got up and flung you into his arms, holding you against his chest, his firm hands cracking your head as if it were fine china.

“Will,” the man spoke, his voice smooth due to his prominent accent, “do you believe they will suffice?”

The other man, Will, paused and walked over, tracing a gentle hand over your face, his palm lingering on your chin as he began to brush away stray tears. “Certainly more flighty than the last one but we can deal with that later, wouldn’t want our child escaping us first thing.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finished Saturday October 5th 2024, 03:14.

5/10/24

[eternalsunrise]

call my bluff.

deadpool (wade wilson) x gn! reader

word count: 2.1k

summary! deadpool and you have an unorthodox dynamic. every time the masked man ends up in your neighborhood, he can’t seem to stay away. you’ve never seen his face or even heard his name, but the two of you are in a game of flirtation with no end in sight. as the tension is raised, both of you wonder, is there something more here?

tags! reader is a regular citizen, talk of reader wearing a skirt but i don’t think i used any pronouns? HEAVILY suggestive but no smut, alcohol mentions, i wrote this with comic deadpool in mind but could easily be ryan’s as well!!

notes! the collective d&w brainrot has caused me to open tumblr and actually complete a fic. hope u love it <3 abs

“taxi!”

the crisp night air nipped at your legs as you stepped off of the sidewalk and onto the edge of the street for the fifth time in the past fifteen minutes. you waved your hands semi erratically, jumping up and down as to try and make yourself take up more space so that the bright yellow vehicle would take notice. instead you watched as it zipped right past you, short term deja vu happening once again.

you threw your arms down in defeat and stared up at the night sky, “fuck!” you sent your frustrations up to the half of a full moon you could see, the other portion blocked by skyscrapers. how is it that this city was known to be crawling with cabs and you couldn’t even flag one of them down? were you on some kind of taxi blacklist?

whatever the reason, you decided that between your horrible luck with public transport and your dead cell phone, you might as well start the trek home.

your body buzzed with the alcohol from the evening; your night out with friends had veered into the early morning hours, and you promised them you’d be able to find your way home. blacklist or not, the city was walkable and you were tired of waiting.

so you crossed your arms over your chest, a half baked attempted at hiding from the chill of the city. you started walking in the direction of your apartment, craving the touch of warm sheets and pillowcases.

after a few minutes of sharing the air with faint car horns and the buzzing of people’s air conditioning units, you heard something else. someone else.

you weren’t naive, the city never sleeps, and there were bound to be people out just like you. however the path you chose was definitely less trafficked, and general paranoia was starting to set in. after all, you’ve been the only person for the past three blocks, only sharing the sidewalk with stray cats.

the thought that someone was behind you forced you to sober up quickly. ice cold blood replacing the warm alcohol that was coursing through your veins.

the footsteps are louder now, matching your heartbeat patting against your rib cage. you wonder why they haven’t walked past you yet. were you being followed? taking a deep breath, you reach into your bag slowly. you retrieve your small weapon of defense, ready to face off a potential threat. whoever it was, they were behind you now. you figured your best bet was fight AND flight. attack and spirit off.

you hear a wolf whistle, deep and slow, right in your ear. it’s now or never.

you whip around and shove your arm toward the nightcrawler (pervert?). you open your mouth to let out a scream and clench your eyes shut. you’re surprised when your voice is muffled by…leather?

“oh cupcake, this is adorable! where’d you get this, amazon?”

you open your eyes and are stunned to lock them with a sea of red and black. your eyes trail upwards, spying artificial whites and a mask you’ve grown familiar with. the original terror you felt starts draining from your body, and is replaced by shock and a strange sense of relief.

deadpool has one of his gloved hands locked around your wrist, long index finger just barely lifting yours off of the trigger of the object in question. a travel sized, hot pink, container of mace.

you open your mouth again to speak but find his other hand muffling your airways, his large palm covering your mouth and tip of your nose. you frantically grasp at his arm with your free hand, yanking it away from your face.

“you know sweet thing, if you wanna walk around this late by yourself, you’ll need something a little more industrial. i actually know a guy if you-“

you take in a giant gulp of air and clutch your chest, trying to slow down your heart rate, “what. the FUCK is wrong with you?” you cut off deadpool’s rambling, staring at his blank eyes.

the merc tilts his head to the side as if he was a confused golden retriever, “really? you wanna trauma dump right now? well…” he clears his throat, voice dropping an octave to portray faux sincerity, “i guess it all started in third grade…”

you groaned and rubbed your face with your free hand, the other still in control by your assaulter, “you could’ve announced yourself, you gave me a heart attack! what are you doing following me anyway?”

deadpool finally releases your hand, his own finding home on his hips, resting right above his two holsters. “well i saw you wandering around like carrie bradshaw. and i may not be your mister, but i was hoping to give you something Big.” he shrugs as if that response was as normal as discussing the weather. you shove your measly can of mace back into your bag.

shaking your head, you turn on your heels, starting to walk away. you plan to continue your trek home, confident that the anti hero would be quick to follow behind. “how hard would it be to just say you want to walk me home?”

you’ve been playing this game of back and forth flirtation for a while now, and you knew that deep…deep…deep down he was masking true concern for you.

deciding not to answer, deadpool took just a few of his large strides to end up by your side. “what are you doing walking alone looking like that anyway? admit it! you were hoping i’d show up.”

you look at him with glassy eyes. now that your guard was fully down, you started to feel the effects of those three tequila shots you took as a send off to your friends. maybe those weren’t such a good idea. the way you’re looking up at him make’s deadpool’s wade’s stomach turn, and he has to clench his fists to control himself.

suddenly he’s forgotten why he was on this side of town in the first place.

you let out a laugh full of teeth, “oh you wish! i haven’t seen you in a few days though, had to go out to fill my needs elsewhere.”

what you two have has never went beyond casual flirtation, but the idea of you being under someone else sparks a match of jealously. but wade knows better. and he knows that slight stumble as you walk, your hands pulling the skirt of your outfit down.

deadpool hisses as if you’ve hit a nerve, “ouch baby, i didn’t think i’d be third wheeling with you and jose cuervo tonight.” he spots a car driving toward the two of you and acts quickly; he places a gloved hand on your waist and moves you away from the sidewalk. he doesn’t miss a beat, you don’t even realize you’ve switched places.

you’re looking back up at him again as you walk, this time reaching up and tapping the handle of one of his sheathed katanas, “what about you killer? you been thinkin’ about me?” you’re teasing him, but a small part of you hopes he’ll give you a genuine answer that aligns with what you want to hear.

his mask creases as he raises his eyebrows and you can’t see but wade is giving you a smirk that sits on the side of his mouth, “oh you know it sweet thing. every time i’ve slid one of these bad boys in and out of a bad guy, it reminds me of what we could have.”

deadpool lets out a dramatic sigh, reminiscing on something that hasn’t even happened, “but their screams usually ruin my hard on, i think your’s would have the opposite effect.”

so much for your genuine answer.

you blame the red on your cheeks and buzzing feeling on the alcohol, pushing the thought of the real cause into a box and storing it in the back of your mind. how embarrassing to feel this way about a masked weirdo that sometimes strolls through your neighborhood. you didn’t even know his real name. hell, you’ve never seen his face!

after a little more walking and a lot more sexual tension, the two of you arrive in front of your apartment building. you turn to face your escort for the evening, flashing him a grin full of drunken glee, “well this is my stop, thank you for the company mr. pool. i’ll have to repay you somehow.” your tone teasing but borderline suggestive.

deadpool nods and taps his chin a few times, “you’re right cupcake….since you’re offering…” he trails off, his voice growing deeper as he bent down to be eye level with you. your throat hitched, a gasp getting stuck there, not expecting him to call your bluff. “i take payments in the form of cash, debit, or check!”

he taps the tip of your nose and shoots back, standing up straight.

oh right! no way this guy would ever actually take you up on your banter! and that was a good thing…right? you decided to end the night now, preventing your drunken state from dragging a masked man into your home.

you rolled your eyes and braced your hand on his broad shoulder, stepping on the tip of your toes and placing a kiss on the side of his mask, the textured material tickling your lips. “goodnight handsome.”

you leaned away from him but trailed your hand down to rest on his chest. hey! the tequila was making you brave.

deadpool, no wade—deadpool—no! wade felt like he was about to fall backwards like a cartoon cat after getting hit with a sledgehammer. it had been a long time since his suit had experienced anything that gentle, he felt this was about to go down a dangerous path.

wade stared down at you through white lenses, his gaze bouncing between your hand and your lips. back and forth like a game of table tennis.

he watched as you bit your lip and held his gaze. your cheeks flushed, eyes glossy, the street lights illuminated your face in a way he’s never seen before. he wonders if potential onlookers could see small hearts surrounding his head.

wade feels a thought go through him, as if it swept in on the early morning breeze. a thought that he felt insane (shocker) for having even for a moment.

standing there with you, he wants to be himself. he has the urge to be vulnerable; rip his mask off and be wade wilson with you. for you. in this moment he wants to be more than the merc that flirts with you. wade wants to be with you. he wants…..fuck he wants to take you inside and make sure your body leaves an imprint in the mattress that’ll be there for weeks. stop looking at him like that, his pants are getting tight.

and there’s deadpool. he imagines tiny versions of himself stabbing katanas into the hearts around his head. they let out sad whines as they deflate and fall onto the sidewalk below him. he needs to get a grip.

“sweet dreams angel face. oh! if you need me throughout the night, just scream out of your bedroom window! screams of damsels in distress are like my mating call.”

you retract your hand with a giggle that makes that stupid thought come back into deadpool’s head.

you hesitate. wanting to say something but…deciding best not to. you turn around and walk up the stairs to your door, ignoring the fire in your stomach that’s been growing after each flirtatious jab.

you hear him start to speak as soon as you put your key into the lock, and you turn around almost too eagerly. you want him to say what you’ve been wanting, craving to hear. you want him to enable that dark part of you; the part of you that wants more of him. the part of you that knows he’s wrong. that he’s got to be walking danger.

deadpool points at himself, “but babe, if you see a way less sexy guy in a suit responding to your call. one that has ugly little spider webs all over him? slam the window shut. you want nothing to do with that guy, trust me.”

your shoulders drop, an exhale released. you give him one last shake of your head, and a barely there smile, before you’re inside your home. the bubble that surrounded the two of you bursted.

the door shuts behind you but the masked man stays in place. he stares at the spot where you were just standing, thinking about all the other routes this night could’ve taken. he isn’t right for you. he should leave you alone. wade knows that. too bad deadpool’s never been a good listener.

[duck-a-doodle]

COD Headcanons: Soft Intimacy

SFW thoughts on what would unravel the COD boys. This is my first post for this fandom, and my entry point to it was the MWII campaign and a few comics, so it might be slightly OOC. In the meantime, I will keep doing research and I hope this brings you joy! :-) -CH

Masterlist 7/14/2024

Simon "Ghost" Riley silently relishes light scratches. The kind that runs slowly, gently down the scalp or round the ears, feathering across his scapula over the thin fabric of his shirt and the underside of his arms. He shudders at getting his spine or ribs traced, head spinning at the idea of fingers so tender taking long, tantalising hours to outline all of himself, the electrifying comfort flickering his heavy eyelids. Heavy as he is, the man is quick to persuade that you rest your weight upon him during such domestic ministrations; he curses, however, at your much more compelling affections, falling prey to the charms of your worship. Slowly, but surely, he leans forth — first dropping his head to your shoulder while languid nails crawl down his cheek, then falling to his hands and soon, his elbows — gliding his head down your collarbone and onto your beating chest, where he recognises that you are most ardently obsessed of him as he is of you. “Obsessed” is much too simple a word  and “reverent”, too large an understatement. His skin is yours, his mind is yours, his breath, his tongue, and every crevice of himself he can count; a gift and homage to your hands, his temple. As he finally sinks all of himself into you with a groan and a sigh, he gingerly lifts his heavy hands, resting them warmly by your sides and over your ribs, in hopes to return all your love with the altogether humble gesture. On days which he stubbornly wishes to do the same for you, he mimics the way you touch him, in every precise manner and every exact order, seeking nooks and crannies that warm your skin or hitch your breath. He will weakly protest, however, moments which your hands reach too close to him outside of these intimate instances, causing light, inadvertent whimpers from the back of his throat.

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Captain John Price likes using his hands for carrying. “Brutish” is an adjective familiar and frequent to his bear paws, trained to caress cold, carbons steel and paint itself in red, smelling only of matches and rust.  The warmest things his hands have known are the arms and backs of his fallen men and the barrel of his heartless iron, the touch of it comparable to a Londoner’s December. You, in place of the metal, you, strong yet brittle and you, lighter to him than a C4, grenade or flashbang, are his respite, reprising over the smoke of his numerous deployments, where his hands took more than they gave. He cannot help the pliant hips and waist that fit his palms seamlessly, more harmless than the many miry grounds he trekked before — a kind, relenting texture which spoil his weathered, calloused digits with the knowledge that they are utterly malleable to you, benign to you, void of all menace. Coarse fingers drag and curl your silhouette as your mass rests weightlessly on his arms and shoulders, yielding to his calculated strength. That he can evoke a laugh or an exclamation of surprise is a source of endless pride; a gentle nudge that the Captain John Price can tickle fancy by exercising a fraction of his brawn on something worldly. He could lift your groceries, the couch, your books — but  he likes to sweep off your feet the most. Trailing your thighs, calves, the small of your back are the hands that seek reminder of his humanity, tendons and phalanges flexing with every curve it meets, venerating eyes never leaving yours which watch his display of muscle with great wonder. For you, he would carry the world. Thus, in his words, “my back is strong enough to carry both our weights for a lifetime, if you’d let me.”

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John "Soap" McTavish has developed a habit of pawing. The abundance (if not exclusive presence) of tough military equipment, smoking alloys and dogged combat routines necessitated his use of hard, impenetrable gloves. Its rugged, protective textile has unwittingly sensitised his hands to various surfaces, including bare skin. He hesitated to touch you, timorous from his own want, curiosity and the unknown. Gone are his inhibitions when graced with your guiding hands, easing the earth-riddled cowhide off his palms. Aimless hands follow your lead, pressing into you over his Henley you borrowed. Finding purchase upon your stomach, he gradually grows accustomed to the fondness of your abdomen, shortly braving his way to your chest with sturdy yet clumsy paws. A current crackles down his body as he toys with the ripples of fabric adorned by your skin, indulgence rapidly surging from his fingers to his giddy head — he is soon to be all over you, his newfound contentment switching into overdrive. Respiration turning laboured, those once shy hands grow ravenous and wayward, roaming under the influence of his enthusiasm; every sharp inhale and strained noise he extorts from you only serves to encourage him further, inciting cheeky gropes at your sides, inner thighs and behind. What would eventually drive his mind over the edge, when you finally decide he is too much, is your folding a very surprised McTavish down onto the couch over you, keeping his head to your tummy and his hands tucked to your sides, imploring him to behave himself. Chiding him to act proper was an error on your behalf; his demeanour shifts, mischief clear in his eyes as he unabashedly explores all of you, pawing at you with every naughty intent fathomable.

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Kyle "Gaz" Garrick is crazy about being sat on. By no means a foolhardy nor gormless soldier, he holds himself to high decorum with immense discipline, ever an air of diplomacy about his person. None would have imagined that a simple act as sitting on his lap would send him reeling, rendered silent for fear of speaking with neither form nor cohesion. He turns light-headed watching your thighs pool like molten lava, quads sweltering from mere contact, let alone the pleasurable tension of your weight balancing precariously off his trembling knees. Worried that his legs would tire, you made to rise, wanting to relieve him of your own gravity but you were firmly held in place; two large, veined hands anchor you resolutely onto unmoving thighs, and any attempts of persuasion, made in the interest of his own comfort, faced flat rebuffal. Gratitude towards Lady Luck nearly spills from his lips, numb with inadvertence, as you nestle your heft upon him, for want of better comfort. You mistaking his lap for an empty stool was akin to setting his legs on fire, but to make yourself comfortable against him? For a man who prided himself for his class and propriety, he quickly found himself immensely burdened with sin, and subtlety became a language long forgotten. Had he any sense left in him that was not knocked out of the ballpark by your charming self, he would not be finding himself gently playing with the hem of your shirt, folding funny shapes with the fabric between his clammy fingers. Savoury dreams of you enticed him, swimming behind his glossy eyes that are unresponsive to the lights that danced across his features. Oh, you were so much trouble to him, colouring him brazen and so very warm. He loves it, however, and you will soon find what a fiend and a devil you can be when you later use this against the soldier's poor heart.

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Alejandro Vargas will die for your scent. Tantamount to a hound, no vaquero could catch the winds of change for miles around the way he could. The smell of burning tyres against the asphalt of the streets, the oils and perfumes of the same shop houses, the settling dust of his own base, and the routine spritz of air freshener that now smelled of lemon instead of mint ever since the new hire came on duty. Where Alejandro worked, the bittersweetness of gunpowder that sweeps his olfactory is his peace, and the constant heatwave that boils a Proust phenomenon out of the hanger persists in the back of his senses, subtle yet certain. No delicate change challenged his sharpness. He has a full bible to list it all, memorised from the front to back — and though he may not be religious, he is a madly devoted man. A hypervigilance that cannot be removed must find a reprieve, and only a single odour, long seared into his mind, pulls at him not first from the mind but from the heart. You, who smelled of his blankets, you, whose shampoo and T-shirt he recognised not from the brand but from its lingering aroma, and you, who could never surprise him with your presence because the scent of you would enter the room before his name falls from your lips, and before his eyes could reach yours. You remain the only person who turned his head with such impassioned and obsessed vigour, and he knew he was done for ever since. He would press his nose deep into your cheek, your neck, or the back of your nape and find himself at home as he stood in a room full of coldhearted artillery. No proper explanation was ever given when you find a shirt or two missing over the months of his deployment, but secretly, you had always known. And like the cheek you are to his mischief, you bask in the darker colour of his cheeks when you find that mysterious missing shirt hidden in the pile of laundry from his deployment.

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Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra likes soft whispers. Such light, airy and vertiginous words that kiss the shell of his ears — they would rob the man of his joints. Everyday exchanges of each other’s day ground him and ruin him, discernible only by both your ears. While he lends his body to the field, bloody and savage, in his heart there stands a single white flag signed in your name, by his hand; in a head overrun with sounds of distorted infrared voices, caterpillar tracks crushing against gravel and of heartless iron shells dropping at two hundred rounds per minute, your quiet words remain. A man of few words must have so much thought that weighs on his tongue, until it becomes too heavy to express. Surely, you must be a godsend. The way you effortlessly loosen the words from his hardened teeth, clenched too tightly still lest a bullet comes to bite, pulls shivers from his lips and down his watery lashes. Something about your bottom lip renders him helpless, and he finds that he must rest his thumb on your lower lip to lessen the giddiness that threatens to beat his heart out of his flaming chest. Permanently latched onto the rich timber of your voice was a man desperate to preserve you, so much that he keeps all your voicemails to him and labels them by the topic, just so he can find exactly when he needs to hear, when he needs to hear it. Moments of quietude in his bunk led one thought to the next, and he often ended the day with your voice embracing the deepest parts of his soul through an old, wired earpiece, wondering if you knew what gravity you had upon him. Perhaps you do know, he believed decidedly — because when he played a new recording you sent him during his deployment, his fingers violently mashed the volume-down button of his device at your rather unique choice of words, spoken at a careless whisper. You knew he had listened to it, as the first thing he did when he returned was to hold you in your place, and return all the salacious whispers he received right back to the bane of his heart. Ten-fold.

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König has an obsession with trapping. Hugs come rare to a man of his nature; imposing, wild and unacclimated to the civilised world. When arms do find their way around him, his own snakes around them, encircling the sensation, holding it close and praying that it seeps into his skin, permeating his senses to remain seared in his remembrance. Yet, more than once, he finds the same arms, over and over, routine the way the birds must sing and the poets must write. Always your arms, by his initiative. Greed will be his downfall and he knows, and he gladly embraces his defeat, relenting to your winsome self without remorse. Never would he deem himself a small man, albeit despite the notion, he shrinks; younger and younger he becomes with you, compressed to his front as much as your skins would let, as much as his strength allows without colouring your flesh a bluish-purple, until he is but a boy cradling his most dear Bärchen, unwilling to let go. He watches with blooming gratification, the exhale that falls from your lips as you press together, eyes drooping from the pleasant pressure that grounds you to earth, all because it is he who holds you. He drinks the sight and lets the view inebriate his already intoxicated mind. On the occasion when he becomes the bear-trapped, he will amuse himself with your too-small arms that fail to close around him, and will quickly turn the tables, subjecting you to his drunken coos with an onslaught of “mein Schatz”es, “Schnuckiputzi”s and “liebling”s. Greed will be his downfall, but you must be his renaissance.

P.S.: Can you tell that I read Pride & Prejudice before writing the TF141's and König's parts? I can. :'-)

[queenendless]

ARISE

A/n: As we are now in a new year, time to write on some new fandoms.

Rewatched S1 dubbed — and yes Aleks Le as Sung Jinwoo is the reason why cause he's so damn fine~! Listen to his voice as you read this, I insist! I just need to get my Sung Jinwoo fix. Therefore—

Pairing: Sung Jinwoo x F!Adult!Reader

CW: Explicit 21+ MATURE content inside. SOME SPOILERS but not much. Morning smut, implied mentions of suicide, reader got reincarnated as a humanoid magic beast and serves Jinwoo now.

DON'T PLAGARIZE, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE MY FANFIC WORK. Rather reblog like and follow pls n thx.

"Wakey wakey." That teasing low purr in the crook of your neck had you giggling tiredly as the ticklish sensation pulled you out of slumber. Spooning you from behind, his legs entangled with yours, Jinwoo breathes in your scent, sucking tenderly. Taking his enormous hand that rested on your hip into yours, just to play with his fingers, made him smile.

“Don't go.” You murmur, raising that hand to leave brush petal soft pecks to his knuckles.

"Come on, now. I gotta get ready." His slurred gruffness were telltale signs he was in no hurry.

"The world is your kingdom now, Jinwoo. It'll still be there tomorrow." Your reassurance meant you curled further into your side of the bed, the tendrils of slumber creeping back in. His deep chuckle trailed butterfly pecks from your cheek, down the pane of your neck, then up to your ear. "Stay here with me, please."

"Even the Shadow Monarch needs to lead his guild." His words were one thing. His wandering hands were another story. "But, if you rather keep me in bed all day, I suppose you could persuade me." His very presence chased away the bitter freezing loneliness you were accustomed to, submerging you in his comfortable burning embrace.

"God, you're something else." You turned in his grasp, finally able to face him and shower him with your smooches, such smitteness brought warmth blooming within him. Not to mention his bulge rubbing against your crotch sent sparks shooting through you both.

Flashes of memories surfaced in your mind. Such a whiplash it is that the most powerful hunter in this world that you personally witness slaughtering every beast and human that dares stand in his way, soaked in their blood, could be the very same man that held such requited smoldering endearment for you.

The butterflies and flips occurring inside from every gaze, touch and word given are always worth it.

"God has been long gone from this world ... just Rulers and Monarchs now ... and yours is beside himself. To think his favorite beast on the streets ... is a lamb in the sheets~" That rumbling deep voice roughly heaved in between kisses. Opening your mouth so willingly had him grinning against you as his velvety tongue entangled yours, lost in the thralls of the passionate dance within. “My favorite~”

His sculpted hands slithered underneath your top, lightly brushing up against your sides, then your tummy. One hand stayed to fondle your cushiony mounds; he never gets tired of feeling you up.

"A human from another world ... reborn as a humanoid magic beast." Pinching, pulling and rubbing your pearls between his long sly fingers had you melting as your muffled mewling grew frequent. “Failed by those closest to you, abandoned to that pain and fear … a kindred soul.”

His other sly hand slips under your undies, cupping your dripping sex. Your moaning had him smirking as he nibbled your bottom lip in tune with his thumb insistently rubbing your clit and the tips of his fingers brushing around your cunt. "Isn't this what you wanted? To be touched by me? Your beloved King?"

"Mmm yes~" His voice always got you going, especially when those four fingers filled you up well, curling and scissoring in their trek straight to your burning core. "Aaah~" Your hips rutting into his hand got him bricked up through his sweatpants. "Nngh~" Wringing your hands through those dark messy locks and stroking along his shaved undercut got him trembling, all to reel him in and keep you as grounded as you could currently be in your haze filled state. "Don't stop~"

"So touch starved." Your sharp gasp was the sign he reached your bundle of nerves, prodding it with such vigor, stuffing you right up to his wrist, lathered up in your cream. “To let me be the first and only one to shower you with such devotion ... I'll forever be grateful for that blessing." Tears of ecstasy leave your e/c eyes and he kisses them away, his ebony bangs tickling your moaning burning face, the flames of passion stoked for you as you come undone. "My Queen~"

His creamy hand then pulled right out of your valley, leaving you desperately wanting him to fill up your emptiness. Your faith got restored, however, as he pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it aside, revealing the chiseled marble sculpture that is his physique.

He knows the sight alone makes your mouth water. Your hands traversed the panes of his soft firm pecs, that thick neck, those broad shoulders, even these sculpted biceps that flexed as his daily tasked push ups came with the added benefit of pushing down to your laying form, being enthralled by your rewarding kisses. Such reliable stability beneath that lean stature of resilience.

Your own eyes burned with the glow of enchantment, the image of who he used to be versus who he has become reminded you of yourself. How the physical and mental scars that plagued your old life for years on end shaped you into who you have become. A magic beast serving the Shadow Monarch. What a pairing.

His cream coated hand slips under his own waistband, pulling his beast free from its confines, using your cum as his lube to be more prepared.

His other hand cupped under your knee, draping your leg over his shoulder. "Wouldn't you rather I give you tongue~?" That low toned growl already got your other leg willingly draped over his other broad shoulder picked up already sunk into your wet folds.

“Yes love~!” Ripping such a concupiscent symphony outta your mouth His other hand couldn't help but jack off to your venereal cries. The scorching presence his mouth gave as the starvation had him ravaging, suckling as much as making out with your now squirting folds.

His cheeks filled with your essence, dexterously aiming his tongue to drive you further up the tower of sins. Your spasming hips only buried his face deeper in, inhaling your scent as his nose got pushed in your pubes, his light yet sturdy weight. Those lidded silver eyes flashed violet as their predatory gaze marveled in your sweaty flushed expressions due to his ravenous gorging, your voice shrieking as you unloaded, his creamy covered lips curling swallowing gratefully.

“You're truly decadent.”

Your body and soul trembled in anticipation for what's to come; your legs falling off his shoulders to hug his firm hips. So did him, leading his dick slowly into your loosened yet smothering grip. "Let me make love to you." He grunted, you sucking him up as greedily as his cock started into the slow steady rhythm stroking your creamy grip.

“Fuck me! Please~! Don't stop~! Don't ever stop!” Your unhinged shouts of passion hit his ear as you hugged his neck, his own hot breath hitting your shoulder as he picked up the lace into the feverish fueled tapping; skin squelching and smacking noises bouncing off the walls.

“Fuck~! You’re heaven incarnate~!” Your sob filled yell riled up his necessity to bust his nuts in you even more. His feral groans in response had you squeezing him in a vice state, marking the side of his neck into a bruising suck, drawing scratches along his chiseled shoulder blades.

His own fingers dug into your rolling hips, finger shaped bruises painting your skin in kind, while his sharp teeth marked along your shoulder and neck, marking you as his and his alone, raising you further to the apex.

“I’ll fuck you until the world ends. This needy pussy deserves to be ravaged every waking moment. Every inch of you is mine to worship. Your beautiful womb filled up with my seed. That's my dream. To have you as my wife. To raise a family together. To make you Mrs. Sung!”

“Yes, Jin~! Yes~!” Your choked up agreement got lost in the sloppy, tongue filled kisses as you came a third in a row, making a cum circle around his shaft, painting his rippling thighs and the once pure sheets.

Your orgasmic greeting met with his, shooting right into your womb quite thickly, lifting you in his shredded grasp, externally and internally. Thrusting his still oozing libido into your heavenly valley like a madman to chase that euphoric high.

Your head limply rested on his shoulder like a pillow, fatigued mewls spilling out as the burning weight of his essence settled into your abdomen. Carefully setting you down on the bed, Jinwoo collapsed on his side, heaving slowly and deeply, his dazed eyes gazing at yours, glowing radiantly as the sunlight slipping in outlined your form.

Still submerged in you, now limp dicked, his muscular arm draped over you, pulling you both closer, all to have you curling into his slickened torso, breathing in your intermingled scent.

“Now call in sick.” Your weak request got him chuckling deeply.

“I will in a bit.” Curling your cascading hair through his fingertips, he caressed your pretty head, allowing the tranquil silence to linger.

“I love you, Y/n. So damn much. Thank you for being in my life, in this moment, and for the rest of our reign to come.” His whole being enveloped you in his bear hug of an embrace, drawing in your shared taste through an endearing kiss.

“I love you too, Jin. So damn much.” Your voice fluttered from the swelling of emotion taking hold on your heart, as you couldn't help but fall into the routine of peppering smooches all over that beautifully precious face of his.

“I'll love you. In this life and the next. Until the end of it all.” He vowed to you as you succumbed to sleep once again, smiling softly at your face, kissing your sweet lips once more before reaching out behind him for his phone, sending a quick text to Yoo Jinho about his impromptu work absence. His brother in arms was A-okay about, already suspecting fooling around with you being the reason why.

Jinwoo's next text was him dubbing Jinho as his best man at your upcoming wedding, already looking forward to seeing you on that sacred day, followed up by quite the steamy honeymoon.

He was already anticipating your future together, basking in the early morning, setting his phone aside as it filled with the following texts of congrats and excitement from his little bro, before joining you in the confines of dreams, cocooned in your shared comfy warmth, watched on by his shadow army in the corner, silently cheering for their master’s engagement with their future Queen Regnant.

[hellishjoel]

float

521 words // joel miller x f!reader

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word: lake

warnings/information: post-outbreak, canon-typical aspects of tlou

a/n: my banners are by @saradika-graphics. shoutout to @berryispunk and @lady-bess for putting this together on @fanfictionoverload!

It’s been days of walking under the hot Tennessee sun, attempting a cross-country trek to find refuge.

After your and Joel’s hideaway was raided and trashed, you decided it was time to find the whispered safe haven community that you heard through old radio chatter during your stay at the Atlanta QZ. 

The summer was cruel, the temperatures skyrocketing easily into the 100s and making your clothes stick to your body. Your map signals that you’re in a national forest close to the border of Kentucky. It’s been hours since you last looked, just heading North in the same general direction.

Exhaustion is evident in your steps, each one labored and dragging. If it weren’t for Joel, you wouldn’t have the will to continue. But you both made a lot of promises together, one being that where one goes, the other follows. Always. 

Joel aggressively smacks his neck, a groan of annoyance leaving his throat. “Fuckin’... bloodsuckers.” He mutters, wiping away an insect and then the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. 

Out of habit, you reach for your water bottle, only to curse to yourself a moment later, knowing it was dry. “We need water, Joel.”

He sighs and extends his hand to help you down a steep slope. “I’know, baby.” 

You worry about Joel. He can survive fights against armed raiders and rabid infected, but no one can survive without water. 

Another pesky mosquito takes a nip at your arm, and you’re quick to slap your hand to end the prickle of annoyance. “Christ, why are there so many mosquitos?”

Joel pauses, eyes darting from left to right before he pulls his map from his backpack. “Mosquitos means water.” He trails his finger along the estimate of where you are before tugging you North, the sounds of the ecosystem growing louder as you approach a large blue lake just beyond the hill between the thicket of trees and bushes. 

“Joel, water! Miles of it!” You gasp in shock, seeing the blue in the distance, and it quickens your eager pace. “Joel, water! Miles of it!” 

At the grassy shore, you unclip your pack and kick off your boots. Peeling off your shirt and cargo pants, you glance at Joel, who is pushing down his jeans and smiling widely at you. 

The lake is cold at first touch, but once submerged, you feel like all the nerves in your body go lax. Your mind clears, and in this moment, you feel like this isn’t the end of the world. You aren’t trying to survive every minute of every hour of every day. You aren’t a burden on Joel’s back. You aren’t scared to think about tomorrow and what it may bring. 

You float. Joel floats beside you, a protective man keeping you at no more than arm’s length as he wades in the water. 

Joel’s husky voice breaks the serenity. “We’ll camp here, maybe try to catch some fish or squirrels.” 

Shaking your head, the water ripples. You close your eyes as the sun makes the water droplets on your face sparkle. “Just a little bit longer, Joel… float with me.”

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[quizzicalwriter]

please please please do a part 3 for the older!ellie series. i can't hold out any longer, i get butterflies every time i re-read cola and haunted 😭

Burning Desire

Pairing: Older Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader

Summary: Ellie’s made herself comfortable in your day to day life, ain’t that nice? Part three of the ‘Cola’ series. Find parts one and two here!

Warnings: Smut. MDNI. Fingering, oral, semi-public sex, rough & possessive themes. Some angst, just a smidge.

A/N: I’m so happy you guys like this series! Also if this wasn’t the room scenario you envisioned feel free to send another ask and I’ll include it in the next installment!

Word Count: 4.5k

Twenty minutes, that’s all that separated you from Ellie. She’d counted, given that she made the trek to your campus on a near-daily basis. Her wife never questioned it, or if she did Ellie hadn’t been listening. All she could truly think about was you, your laugh, your smile - everything. Her obsessiveness over you might’ve warranted concern, but it never set off any warning bells in your mind, if anything Ellie’d noticed the way your thighs would clench together when she’d pull you closer to her side.

It was stupid, she knew that. She was twice your age and had a wife, but the past weeks spent between your thighs felt holy enough to cast away any built-up sins she’d worried about accruing. She’d feel sorry when she was dead, until then she’d listen to your moans of her name often enough to commit them all to memory, her sweet little hymn.

How could she stop herself? You’d practically skip whenever you caught sight of her in the campus parking lot, a wide smile on your face as you clutched your bag to your chest. She’d developed a habit of picking you up every Wednesday, the one day she was sure her wife would be gone for the better part of the day, certainly enough time to worship your body as you laid on her bed.

Just as you did every week, you bounded toward her truck, a giddy smile plastered across your face as you ran over. She leaned across the center console, opening the door for you to climb up into the beaten-up hunk of metal. You rambled about your day as you handed Ellie your bag, she tried her damndest to listen while tossing it into the backseat and starting up her truck.

“- I mean, it was crazy. You know?” You asked, and at that moment Ellie realized she hadn’t been paying attention in the slightest. She’d been paying attention to you, but not to the words coming out of your mouth. You sensed her confusion, playfully rolling your eyes as you crossed your legs beneath you. “Not listening to my rambling?”

Ellie breathed out a laugh, switching on her turn signal as she looked over to the adjacent street, her free hand squeezing your upper thigh. “I always listen.”

It was bullshit, you knew that, but it was cute nonetheless. You hummed in response, looking down at her hand as the midday sun poured in through the windows, casting a warm hue over her skin and yours. Her rings shone in the light, the cool metal rousing goosebumps along your thighs the farther up her touch went.

“Ellie.” You warned, looking at her out of your peripheral as you shifted in your seat, knowing exactly what she meant to do. She cleared her throat, giving your thigh a swat as she trailed her touch upward, sliding her fingers underneath the hem of your skirt and against your underwear with a short, “What?”

You tried to laugh, only to have the noise cut off by a whine as her fingers brushed against your folds through the thin fabric of your underwear, causing you to ache around nothing as she turned down a busy street. “We’re fifteen minutes from your place.”

Without missing a beat, Ellie smiled over at you, tone slick as she responded. “Fifteen minutes to make you cum.”

Before you could retort she’d pushed your underwear to the side, middle and ring finger circling your cunt, gathering your cum around the digits before pushing them in. You let your head fall back against the headrest, hand moving to hold onto her wrist as she slowly pumped her fingers inside of you.

You couldn’t tell whether you were thankful or pissed over the state of your hometown's roads, as Ellie seemed to drive over every bump she could find, effectively making you ride her fingers. You could hear the lewd squelch of her fingers pushing inside of you with each movement of her wrist.

Her thumb circled your clit as she turned onto another street, face completely neutral as she kept her focus on the road ahead. Anybody passing by wouldn’t have thought a thing, save for your screwed-together brows and the way you kept letting your head fall back to moan out her name in a way that had her shifting in her seat.

Even as the roads smoothed out you still bounced on her fingers, one hand grasping her wrist while the other grasped at the fabric of the seat, trying to steady yourself as your orgasm built in your lower stomach. Ellie’s eyes flickered over to you, sneaking every glance she could manage as your moans picked up an octave.

“Gonna cum?” She asked, a proud smile on her face as you nodded. As your cunt squeezed her fingers she let out a groan of her own, silently thanking God when she finally came across a red light. You’d leaned against her shoulder, thighs squeezing her forearm in place as she continued moving her fingers within you.

With a broken cry of her name, you came undone around her fingers, you’d hardly picked up the quiet praises she threw your way as she pulled into her neighborhood, keeping her fingers buried in your cunt all the while. You continued rocking your hips through your orgasm, practically a whimpering mess by the time she’d pulled into her driveway.

You’d half a mind to worry about whether or not your parents were home, it’d be beyond difficult to explain why your older, married neighbor drove you to and fro - especially given that you lived on campus. But as Ellie moved her fingers inside of you, purely by accident, as she pulled the keys out of the ignition, those worries fled your mind in favor of whatever else Ellie would give you before she’d have to drive you back to campus.

“Open.” She murmured, pulling her fingers out of your cunt before pressing them to your lips, watching in awe as you greedily took them into your mouth. The feeling of your tongue against her fingers could’ve made her cum alone, but the look in your eyes as she pushed her fingers further into your mouth made it damn near impossible for her to breathe.

“Fuck.” Was all she managed to breathe out as she removed her fingers from your mouth, eyes glued to yours as she watched you swallow your cum. She wasted no time in leaning forward to connect your lips, wanting to taste you on your tongue before she’d even brought you inside.

The sweet and earthy taste coated her tongue, making her desperate enough that she’d briefly considered laying you back against the backseat of her truck to eat you out in plain daylight. She’d only had the strength to deny herself when you pulled away to catch your breath, eyes bleary with want as you wetted your lips, tasting whatever remained of her on your lips.

“So fuckin’ filthy.” She laughed out, taking a moment to fill her lungs full of air before leaning over the center console to open your door, doing the same for hers a second later. You responded with a pleased hum, hopping out of the truck before adjusting your skirt. Your eyes roamed over to your parent's house, noticing that only your mom was home - hopefully, she was sleeping and wasn’t out on the porch.

Either way, you decided not to risk it, quickly maneuvering around the front of Ellie’s truck to follow her inside. You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled in your chest as Ellie tried to readjust her jeans, surely having soaked through her boxers in the process of watching you ride her fingers. As odd as it was, you felt more comfortable in Ellie’s home than you had anywhere else, despite the photos of her wife that lingered amongst the walls.

Maybe it was Ellie’s presence, her scent that coated the blankets and jackets hung up near the door, or possibly a combination of the two along with the memories of her fucking you on nearly every surface in the house. You kicked your shoes off near the front door, the two of you talking about something insignificant as you both moved to the living room.

Her arm circled your waist as you both plopped down onto the couch, her thumb rubbing soft circles into your hip bone as you both continued talking. Ellie found herself in the same daze she’d been in earlier, utterly entranced by the way you stared up at her and smiled whenever you’d mention something funny.

“Ellie-“ You whined, palming at her chest as you feigned a frown, having caught her not paying attention for the second time. She chuckled, free hand grasping yours before bringing it to her lips, placing a gentle kiss on your fingers with a murmured, “Sorry, baby. What were you saying?”

You bit back a smile, not wanting to let up on the upset charade you had going. So you tilted your head back, playing the role of an exasperated housewife as your eyes fluttered shut. “I was talking about something so important.”

“Oh yeah? What was it?” She responded in a low chuckle, moving her arm from your back to drape it over your shoulders, pulling you into her side as she looked down at you, enjoying the pity party you were throwing for yourself.

“Was telling you how I’ve never really dated anyone, I’m like a baby when it comes to that stuff. My friends have tried-“ Before you could finish your tirade Ellie covered your mouth, a mix of confusion and excitement heavy on her face as she responded with a giddy, “You haven’t dated anyone? Ever? You’re a college student, babe. The fuck are you doin’ all day?”

With a groaned-out laugh, you pushed her hand down from your mouth, tilting your head back against the plush backrest of the couch. “For your information-“ You started, words lifted with laughter. “I happen to study and go to class!”

“So innocent, huh?” She teased, something rather lascivious hidden in her tone as she brushed the back of her fingers against the swell of your cheek. “Never dated anyone, so precious.”

You huffed out a laugh, unable to hide the growing flush against your cheeks the longer she gazed down at you. “Not all innocent-“ You mumbled, eyes flickering down to your lap where your thighs shifted. “I’ve had sex before you, just didn’t date is all.”

Ellie hummed, you couldn’t tell whether the tone was one of disapproval or intrigue as she continued to stroke the side of your face, thumb drifting along the curvature of your bottom lip. She then pressed her thumb to your lips, looking down at you expectantly. You parted your lips, taking her thumb into your mouth before gently sucking it. The feeling of your tongue curling around the pad of her thumb caused her breath to catch in her chest, arousal settling heavily in her lower stomach the longer you kept her gaze.

“So good with your tongue.” She whispered, having difficulty keeping her eyes on yours in favor of watching your cheeks hollow around her thumb. “Wonder how good it’d feel on me.”

A hot rush pulsed through your body, thrumming steadily in your cunt at her words. The thought of being between her legs, her fingers tangled in your hair as she used your tongue to get herself off, you couldn’t help the whine against her digit as you grew desperate to taste her.

“You’d like that, huh?” She laughed out, eyebrows raising slightly at the genuine intrigue in your eyes. “Alright, get on your knees.”

You pulled off of her thumb, giving the tip of her finger a gentle kiss before sinking to your knees before her. Her hands moved slowly, almost teasing you as she unbuttoned her jeans, tilting her head to the side as she lifted her hips to kick the denim off, all the while your eyes stayed locked on her bottom half.

Impatience swelled in your mind as you bit at the inside of your cheek, squirming on your knees in hope of easing the ache between your legs. Sensing your restlessness she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her boxers, slipping them down and off her legs before scooting herself closer to the edge of the seat. You could see the rise and fall of her chest with each breath she took, her appearance flushed as her fingers tapped against the fabric of the couch.

“You haven’t done this before, have you?”

You shook your head, wetting your lips as you scooted yourself closer to the edge of the couch, knees bumping into the furniture. She smiled down at you, a huff of air leaving her as she parted her thighs, hand smoothing up your neck to thread her fingers through the back of your hair.

“Then let me use that pretty tongue.”

You were so obedient with the way you rested your hands against her splayed thighs, eyes locked on hers, those pretty doe-eyes that she could melt in for the rest of her life if God would be so kind. She drank in that look, that lingering innocence in your face as you licked a tentative stripe up her cunt. She let out a hiss of breath, eyelids fluttering as her hold on your hair tightened.

You only knew what she’d done to you so many times before, so you did your damndest to mimic it, swirling your tongue around her clit before swiping your tongue between her folds, all but drinking her cum as it coated your tongue. A drawn-out moan fell from her lips, pulling one from you as well as her hips rocked, pushing her cunt further against your tongue.

Her taste was divine, her moans of your name even more so. You could feel your clit throb, juices soaking your underwear the longer you stayed between her thighs. With a grunt she pulled you closer, effectively riding your face, and you were all too happy to let her. Your right hand slunk between your thighs, pushing your skirt up and to the side along with your underwear, your fingers finding home against your cunt less than a second later.

A languid moan fell past your lips as you slipped your middle and ring finger into your cunt, mimicking Ellie’s pace as she rutted against your face, her head rolled back against the backrest of the couch. Cum pooled around your fingers, dripping into your palm as you thrusted your fingers into yourself, rocking your hips against your palm, giving yourself enough friction against your clit to leave you moaning against her cunt.

“Gonna make me cum, baby.” She drawled out, words breathless as her hips twitched against you. You hummed, feeling your orgasm coil tight in your lower stomach. She practically used your tongue to get herself off, and all it did was spur your orgasm forward until you were cumming around your fingers, a wanton moan falling past your lips as you sucked her clit into your mouth. Her grip on your hair tightened to an almost painful degree as her orgasm swept through her, her back arching from the couch as she moaned your name.

You continued your movements, fingers still pumping idly in your still twitching cunt as she rode out her orgasm against your eager tongue. She sagged against the couch as she caught her breath, her hand falling from your hair to cup your jaw, thumb brushing affectionately against your skin. You wetted your lips, wanting to taste all of her as you leaned into her touch.

“Did so good, you know that?” She whispered, a soft grunt leaving her lips as she shifted her hips back against the couch, patting the cushion beside her, wanting to feel you curled into her side. You quickly obliged, moving to sit down beside her as she circled an arm around your back, hand brushing along your upper arm as she rested her cheek against the top of your head.

The taste of her lingered on your tongue, forever engrained in your memory. It would surely flood your mind when you found yourself without her, secluded in your dormitory with nothing else to occupy your time than to rut into your palm in hope of recreating her perfect touch.

You were snatched from the depths of your daydreams by Ellie pushing her shoulder against you, her laughter filling your ears as she bent forward and grabbed her clothes from the floor.

“C’mon, daydreamer. Gotta get you back to your dorm.”

The drive back to your dormitory was always the same, filled with never-ending silence and looks from Ellie that spoke magnitudes without ever uttering a thing. You weren’t sure if you preferred the silence over Ellie trying to explain her situation, the whole “I’m married” tirade lasted a whopping three days before you’d grown tired of it and asked her to stop.

Instead, you got silence, silence, and a gentle grasp of your upper thigh as she maneuvered through the streets. She’d take longer drives back, insisting on wanting to avoid traffic but you both knew it stemmed from neither of you wanting to say goodbye. As you passed by houses filled with families and lovers you found your gaze shifting over to her, watching as she kept her eyes ahead.

Ellie hated it, hated the predicament she’d thrown you into, and hated herself for not being able to turn you away. She should’ve been happy with her wife, but she wasn’t, they hadn’t been for a long time. Ellie’d confided in you about the woes of her marriage roughly a week into your ‘situationship’ or whatever the hell things like that were called. You’d been understanding, something she hadn’t been expecting if she were to be honest. But you were, and it made the whole ordeal that much difficult to distance herself from.

She’d been driving autonomously, mind somewhere else entirely when you’d swatted at her forearm that still rested against the center console with a laugh. With a sigh she unbuckled her seatbelt, waiting for you to do the same before joining you on the short trek back to your dorm room. Nobody ever stared, everyone on campus was dealing with their shit and didn’t care enough to eavesdrop - something Ellie appreciated deeply.

As you both stepped into the rickety elevator, she felt the back of your fingers brush against hers, wordlessly seeking her touch as you readied yourselves to part for another week. She didn’t return it, instead keeping her eyes locked on the dinging numbers above the elevator doors, mouthing along the number to each passing floor until the doors sprung open. You stepped out first, avoiding her gaze as you fished your keys from your back pocket, muttering something about your roommate under your breath that Ellie didn’t quite pick up.

When the doors opened to reveal your dorm room empty, Ellie couldn’t stop the flutter of hope that sparked in her chest. She followed you into the room, kicking her shoes off near the door just as you had, her eyes watching as you moved over to your bed, plopping yourself down onto the thin mattress like a marionette without strings.

“What is it?” She asked, moving over to you, right hand lifting to gently rub along your back. You immediately jerked away from her touch, something that turned her stomach sour as you turned over to face her with your own look of distaste.

“What am I to you?” You asked, words punctuated with a venom Ellie had never anticipated coming from you. She took a moment, taking in a deep breath as she moved to sit down beside you on your bed, trying to ignore the way you shuffled away from her.

“You’re my girl.” She responded, giving you a half-hearted smile. She’d hoped you’d never ask that question, but she knew it’d happen sooner rather than later. “That’s all there is to it.”

“That’s all there is?” You laughed out, shaking your head in disbelief as you shifted on your mattress to face her fully. “You fuck me every week, sometimes more if you can sneak away from your wife. You expect me to be happy with just being ‘your’ girl?”

She looked away from you then, knowing she didn’t have an answer in her mind that would appease you at that moment. What the hell was she supposed to say? That she’d divorce her wife whom she’d known all her life? It was complicated. As she rambled within her mind she realized she hadn’t said anything, causing your agitation to rise as the seconds passed.

“I-“ She started, taking a moment to clear her throat as she looked down to her clasped hands. “I’m married, baby. What did you expect? I’ve known my wife my entire life, I can’t just- I can’t up and divorce her. I need time.”

You’d half startled her when you grabbed her arm, pulling her attention from her tensed hands to your desperate eyes. She returned your look with vigor, feeling a pull within her chest to protect you, love you, even though she caused all of these feelings for you in the first place. How was she meant to protect you from herself when she couldn’t breathe without you beside her?

“What do you feel for me, Ellie?” You asked, words so quiet that she’d hardly heard them over the sound of her heartbeat. She smiled at your question, your naivety of her feelings for you. With a caress of your cheek, she whispered, “Everything.”

It was the truth, she felt too much for you. It scared her, the lengths she’d go to for you. She wasn’t the healthiest when it came to love, she obsessed, became possessive. She felt it flare whenever she’d spot someone talking to you on campus whenever she’d swing by, whether it was her day to pick you up or not. You’d noticed her, and for some reason, it’d only made you cling to her more.

You ceased the gap between you, crashing your lips together in a kiss so fueled with desperation that it sucked the air from your lungs, leaving you aching for everything that encompassed Ellie’s being. You only pulled away when your chest burned for air, words hoarse as you responded, “Then act like it.”

She moved then, hands grasping at your skirt as she pushed you backward into the mattress, her lips trailing down your jaw and onto your throat where she nipped and sucked your skin, leaving her mark. You let her, whines of her name falling past your lips as your hands slipped underneath the fabric of her shirt. You could feel the muscle moving beneath her skin as she sunk closer to you, her fingertips pressing into your hips with enough force to leave behind bruises.

You could feel her teeth against your collarbones as her hands slipped underneath the hem of your skirt, all but tearing the fabric from your body to get you nude in the least amount of time. You lifted your hips, hands moving to help her before you kicked the bundled-up fabric to the floor along with your underwear. Her hand slipped between your thighs, a groan reverberating within her chest as her fingers dragged along your folds.

“Mine.” She whispered, following the word with a kiss to your throat as she slipped her middle and ring finger into your cunt, the sudden movement pulling a gasped-out moan from you as your thighs squeezed around her wrist. She intertwined her legs with yours, pulling your leg to the side with her calf as she rocked her fingers into your cunt.

“Yours.” You breathed out, back arching from the mattress as your hips rocked in tandem with her fingers. She hummed at your response, pride swelling in her chest as she trailed her lips back up the curvature of your throat to your lips, swallowing every bliss-filled moan that left your chest.

She could feel your cunt fluttering around her fingers as she brushed her palm against your clit, each twitch of your cunt and moan from your lips spurring her on further. She slipped a hand between her legs, situating herself to have your thigh pressed against her. You’d been too caught up in the feeling of her fingers pumping within you to register the shift until she rocked her hips down against your thigh, a grunt of your name leaving her at the desperately needed friction.

Her fingers moved in sync with her hips, only pulling away from your kiss to fill her lungs. She could’ve died happy then, feeling your hips rutting up to meet her fingers as she used your thigh to get herself off. It was messy, needy, but it was you and that’s all she could bring herself to care about.

You could feel your orgasm building to a fever pitch in your lower stomach, cunt tightening down around her digits as your moans turned into keens, near pitiful drawls of her name as she chased her own against your thigh. She knew your body well enough to know you were close, the way your eyebrows furrowed and how your legs would tense, it all sent her careening over the edge into her orgasm.

All she managed was a weak, “Fuck,” as her hips stuttered against your thigh, never once losing pace with her fingers as she centered her focus onto you. Your eyes fluttered open, met with her intense gaze as she fingered you. You raised your hand, cupping the back of her neck as your lips parted, a drawn-out whine of her name leaving you as she brought you to your third orgasm of the day. Even as your eyes shut at the intensity of the feeling, Ellie kept her gaze focused on you, watching as your face screwed up in pleasure - all because of her.

“Els-“ You whimpered, tone pleading as your hands jerked between your thighs, pushing away her hand as your pleasure quickly turned into oversensitivity. She moved her hand, placing a chaste kiss on the corner of your lips as you caught your breath. There was a shared comfortable silence, one where she held you close and peppered featherlight kisses to your semi-damp forehead.

Only when you were in her arms did you realize how much you didn’t want to give her up, maybe you were a fool, but you’d be a blissful one until she changed it - you surely wouldn’t change the situation if left to your own devices. You tilted your head back, narrowly missing a kiss to the nose which pulled soft laughter from the both of you as you situated yourself to see her face better.

“Your girl?” You asked.

“My girl.” She replied.

A/N: It’s finally here!! I actually have some plans for another installment or two of this, so let me know if you guys want more chapters and I will deliver! Thank you so so much for all the love and support you’ve shown my work, I appreciate it more than words can express! You can always find my work over on my AO3 under the user, “Unscriptural.” Thank you again, I hope you guys like this one!

Taglist: @p4ison1vy @machetegirl109 @h0lyr1chex @harrysslutsstuff @bellaramslover

(let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for future installments!)

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Five

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warning: Gore, violence, some angst

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Meryl struggled forward, trying to keep from tripping on his floor-length robes. A head of ivory hair trailed out after him at a leisurely pace. A blood red hand at her side gripped a slick shortsword. The blade mimicked the cruel curve of her horns. 

You remembered her from the party. 

Teal silk and blood and the lake. 

Koschei. 

Koschei.

Koschei. 

His hand dove into the folds of his robe, withdrawing a dull knife. You caught her smile before she dodged Meryl’s swift kick, sword arching down in a swing that cut cleanly through his back leg.

You didn’t stay to watch the second swing that nearly separated Meryl’s head from his shoulders. The street was still eerily silent.

Meryl hadn’t gotten the chance to raise the alarms. 

You ran to the other side of your apartment, knocking one of the windows open. The smell of smoke, acrid and bitter, flooded your nose. Your stomach turned, nearly emptying itself of your dinner. 

A blanket of haze covered the bottom floor, the flickering of flames beginning to lick up the outer edges of the massive room. 

The Alcove - your home - was on fire.

Your apartment was built separately from The Alcove with no direct path linking the two together. Normally you would simply walk down the stairs and enter through one of The Alcove’s main entrances with its hand-carved archways and stone pegasuses. But with the murderous female lurking outside, that was simply not an option.

You pulled the neck of your sweater up and over the lower half of your face, ignoring the stinging of your eyes. You steeled your nerves and slid your foot out, finding purchase on the decorative molding that lined the walls. Many times you’d thought about scaling the walls instead of trekking down dozens of flights of stairs. You’d never actually done it. 

The soft skin of your palms protested as you shimmied your way down and then jumped the last ten feet onto the walkway. There was no grace in your movements, and no time to dwell on the rough landing before you began flying down the stairs, begging the Mother and Meryl to give you time to cross the expanse of the library. 

Meryl’s apartment lay on the opposite side of The Alcove on the first floor, and unlike your apartment, had a door leading directly to the stacks. The white rune, carved into Meryl’s door, stared at you like the eye of a god. 

Some vague myths about ancient giants crossed your mind. They’d been worshiped in these lands before the rise of the High Lords with brains so vast you could climb in through their ears and walk amongst the grooves like a child in a corn maze. You felt like that child now, the familiar turns and patterns of the atheneum slipping away into mist.

You had no patience to walk the last flights of stairs. You threw yourself off the lower walkway, ankle twisted painfully beneath you as you crumpled onto the floor. 

Just make it to the door. Just make it to the door. 

The first duty of a Librarian was to save the atheneum. Always. 

Again that white rune stared at you from across the floor, winking with the flashes of firelight as the flames gorged themselves on book pages. 

Save the Alcove.

You ignored the pain in your leg, running towards the door with gritted teeth. Three bodies littered the floor, blood blossoming around colorful robes like roses in springtime. 

Save the Alcove.

You wrenched the knife from the sliver in the wall, slicing your palm open with a sharp intake of breath. Warm blood spilled out, dripping onto the floor and then down the wall as you pressed your palm against the rune, muttering the words all Librarians knew by heart - words that would seal The Alcove from the outside world and draw all oxygen from within.

“Beali tchnemonon aschzernai belar-” The rune began to glow, rivers of white light tracing the carving on the door. The doors began to groan as threads of magic shot outward, weaving through the stone and preparing to seal it shut.

“Stop. Say nothing.” A voice said, soft as velvet and hard as scales. 

Your tongue froze up, the rune dimming as teeth sank into the soft flesh of your mind and began to tear through your mental shields.

___________

Azriel chewed carefully, washing down the meat with a swig of sweet wine. All throughout dinner Helion had been glowering at him, one hand gripping the golden hilt of his steak knife like he was prepared to aim it between Azriel’s eyes. 

“Did you spend the whole day with her?” Feyre had asked him when he’d finally arrived for dinner twenty minutes late. 

Everyone else was dressed in their court attire. Even Cassian had changed out of his leathers and was currently pulling at the high collar of his shirt. But not Azriel. He’d arrived late in plain clothes, hair disheveled and face impassive. He gave a nod in response to Feyre’s silent question before settling down beside Cassian. His brother threw him a knowing wink. 

Rhysand looked pleased with himself. Feyre looked pleased. Everyone was pleased… everyone but Helion. 

“Finally! The Shadowsinger arrives!” The comment rolled off his tongue and fell flat, “Now we can eat.”

“I apologize, Helion. I lost track of time.” Azriel said truthfully. He had lost track of time. He wished he’d lost track of it for longer. Then he might still be in your living room, dreaming about kissing you. 

Dinner was a business affair. Theories about Koschei’s next plans punctuated by the appearance of roasted chestnuts, soft-boiled quail eggs, honey rolls, and stuffed duck on the table. 

“He can’t escape the lake.” Rhysand said, “Though the gods know he’s trying.” 

“He can’t escape yet.” Helion countered, brows furrowed in concern, “There’s a piece we’re missing to this.”

“The Cauldron.” Feyre ran a lazy finger over the lip of her wineglass to disguise the unease settling in her stomach, “He’s searching for it.” She tilted her head towards Azriel, “Az found evidence that some of Koschei’s followers have been breaking into the temples further up north.”

Helion shook his head, “It wouldn’t do them any good to search an old hiding place. And it’s not like the legs of the Cauldron are with the priestesses anymore. They must be looking for something else.”

“What else is in the temples except old books and ceremonial artifacts?” Cassian asked. 

“Old books can sometimes be the most powerful objects in the world.” Helion said with a small smirk, “I wouldn’t look down on them so much.” 

“Tell that to a sword.”

“Tell that to a two-thousand page text thrown at your head.” 

Cassian grinned, “I would dodge it. Easy.”

“With that inflated head of yours, I’d hardly be able to miss.”

Azriel smiled inwardly. That sounded like something you might say. Not even four hours since he’d last seen you and he was missing your gentle smile, the crease in your brows when you read, the occasional jangle of your bracelets when you shook out the cramps in your wrist. 

Feyre thought long and hard, staring at the surface of her wine like the answers might materialize there. She couldn’t get her mind off the Cauldron. The most important events that had taken place in the last fifty years could be tied back to its magic. The magic that currently flooded through Nesta and Elain’s veins. 

With its power anything seemed possible - even separating a deity like Koschei from the lake where he’d been confined for centuries.

“What if they’re not looking for the Cauldron itself?” Everyone looked at her, waiting to hear the High Lady’s next words. “What if they’re just looking for something tied to it?”

Cassian dropped his knife to the table with a clang.

“Nesta.” He breathed. He immediately reached out across the bond, feeling Nesta stir on the other side. She was still safe in Velaris, although he pitied any poor soul that tried to go after her.

“Or Elain.” Feyre continued.

It’s no secret they were Made. They wouldn’t need to break into a temple to figure that out or to find out where they’re staying. Rhysand sent his bonds down the bond, one hand reaching out to rub her thigh. 

Nesta and Elain could handle themselves, but that didn’t mean Feyre could shed the protective nature she’d developed through her formative human years. 

Who else then? Who else has taken power from the Cauldron? 

Jurian.

He’s human. He has no magic that Koschei could want. And the human queen has been long dead too. 

Helion glanced at Cassian who only waved him off. Rhys and Feyre did this often - getting lost in their private conversations and only sharing their thoughts at the very end. 

Meanwhile, Azriel was having his own private thoughts. 

Immunity, the innate biological process of recognizing and protecting against foreign entities, is a phenomenon that can be extended and applied to magic.

“How does it apply to mating bonds?” Azriel asked, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled over the room. 

The fire crackled steadily, warming your back as you sat hunched over a volume titled “An Exegesis on the Works of Bhenaui The Stone Giant”. 

“Hmmm?” You mumbled.

He pointed to the last page of your paper where an introductory sentence on mating bonds had ended abruptly. 

“You didn’t finish your thought.” 

“Well, that’s because I’m not completely sure what my thoughts are… at least not yet.” 

“Would you tell me your thoughts? Even if you’re not sure?”

You motioned for him to hand it over, the papers floating over to you on a phantom hand made of shadows. You flipped through the pages absentmindedly, your previous thoughts coming to mind as you held your work. 

“Parents, children, siblings - they all tend to have similar forms of magic. Magic that recognizes family members the same way that blood does.” 

Azriel nodded. He’d already read that section of your paper. Although the thought of sharing some magical connection with his half-brothers and father made his stomach turn, he couldn’t deny your logic. 

“I always thought that mating bonds must be some special extension of that. Magic that’s not the same, but perfectly complementary.”

“Like the difference between two sets of keys, versus a key and a lock.”

“Maybe? I suppose that’s not a terrible analogy to make, but I’m not sure.” You shot him a smile, “You’re beginning to think like a Librarian, Azriel.” 

His heart sang in his chest, shadows flurrying around him. You’d quickly learned that his shadows gave away more than his face ever would. 

“What an insult to Librarians.” He quipped.

You snorted and shook your head, tossing a pen at his head. He caught it easily, just as you knew he would.

A faint flutter of panic grew in the background of his mind, unprompted and unexpected. He pushed it to the side, focusing his attention back on what you’d told him back at your apartment. 

“Magic that recognizes family members the same way that blood does.” 

Koschei had been brother to The Weaver and The Bone Carver - both dead after centuries, if not more, of confinement to The Prison and The Cottage. It didn’t make sense for him to be searching for them. Perhaps he wanted the Cauldron to bring them back from the dead, but even that seemed like the stretch. Koschei didn’t strike Azriel as the kind of being to care for the safety and life of his siblings. 

If Azriel were in Koschei’s position, he wouldn’t be after the Cauldron. Not necessarily. The thing he’d really be dying to know was who had separated him from his power, and how.

“Magic that’s not the same, but perfectly complementary.” 

Like a lock and a key.

“Uh… Azriel?” Cassian gently grabbed Azriel’s shoulder, shaking him. 

Inky shadows climbed up his hand, the light of his red siphons swallowed up by the darkness that had begun to pour off of Azriel. 

That panic was steadily growing into something he couldn’t ignore and he couldn’t stop thinking of you. You with your brilliant ideas and a theory that he still couldn’t quite grasp, like he was trying to hold salt water in his hands. 

“Something-something feels wrong.” Azriel gasped out, a scarred hand clutching at his chest. “Cass, something’s not right. Something’s not right.” He repeated the words until he finally recognized what was wrong. 

It wasn’t his panic that he was feeling. It was yours.

___________

You screamed, thrashing about on the floor as you gripped your head between your hands. 

Get out. Get out. Get out. 

You pulled at your hair, slapped your skull like that would be what it took for the female to relinquish her hold on your mind. 

She was buried inside like a parasite - a virus slowly taking over the cellular machinery, copying it all down as she rifled through your memories as easily as a picture book. 

You shrank away from her as she lingered on one memory in particular. 

It was your fortieth birthday, although you didn’t look any older than eight. Helion sat on the floor, long legs extending beyond the cramped space between the fireplace and the couch. It was a small apartment you shared with your mother with its pale green walls and yellow daisy curtains. 

He filled every inch of it with light. His smile was so dazzling you thought he must have been one of the fairytale knights you’d spent every night obsessing over. He certainly played the part, gifting you a wooden pegasus with wings that hovered a foot above the ground when you asked it to. 

“You can’t keep doing this, Helion.” You’d stayed hidden at the top of the stairs, your pegasus nuzzling into your side and then going still.

“She’s my daughter, Leda. What am I meant to do?”

“You’re meant to leave us alone.” 

“Leda-”

“She’s growing too slowly. You saw her today, she should be fully grown by now.” 

“...I know.”  

“If anyone finds out who she is… the power she possesses. Mother help us…”

“I know. I’m-I’m sorry, Leda.” 

“You can’t keep doing this.” 

That was the last childhood memory you’d had of him, and when the pegasus’s magic had worn off, leaving him stiff and immoble, the novelty of having a knight for a father had worn off too.

You were crying now, tears streaming down your ash-stained cheeks as the female above you clicked her forked tongue. Her eyes were two chips of moonstone split by wide, rectangular pupils. 

“A High Lord’s bastard.” She sang with pleasure. “How fun.” She leaned down and grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking it up so forcefully you had to bite your tongue to keep from screaming. “No. No.” She clicked her tongue in disappointment, “Don’t stop. I want to hear you scream. Scream.” 

With a roar of anger you latched onto her arm, immediately feeling a flood of memories and emotion pour into your mind. 

Sick, twisted satisfaction. Pleasure. Meryl’s decapitated body hastily hidden behind a pillar. When she’d gone down into the lower levels of The Alcove, searching for the diary, she hadn’t expected to see him there. Hadn’t expected him to give her a hard time. Hadn’t expected him to fight back.

The three other fae, slaughtered in haste. Koschei would not be pleased. He would not let her join him on the lake. But she had the book. She had the book. 

The female hissed, the disorienting motion of being in your mind while you were in hers causing panic. She’d been trained to keep others out of her mind. She’d endured far more training than you had. So why couldn’t she kick you out? 

More memories. More emotions. Rising fear. You soothed it using the training she’d received. She wasn’t the virus. You were. You felt all her memories. The terrible aftermath of war on the continent. The feeling of being burned alive.

The female was trying to break away from you now, but you wouldn’t let her, not even as the smoke grew so thick it clogged your lungs. You felt her memories as if they were your own, and so long as she was in your mind, she was forced to experience it all as well.

His power is beneath the lake. Trapped. Buried. He can’t leave his soul behind. Can’t diminish himself any further. He can’t leave the lake. 

Koschei.

Koschei.

Koschei.

The lake. What’s buried beneath the lake? 

Andrian. ANDRIAN!!! 

Get the key. Get the key. Get the key.

The scream of her brother’s voice as Koschei splits his head in two. 

When your eyes burst open they’re so bright the female turns her face away, sobbing. Your blood soaked hand searches the floor for the knife you dropped, the knife you can see is less than a foot away. But you’re not looking at it. She is. 

She registers what you plan to do. Every thought of hers reflected in your mind like a ghostly afterimage. But it’s too late. 

You grip the knife in your hand. 

Slam it through her eye and out the back of her skull.

It’s a strange feeling to be in someone’s mind when they die. To feel like it’s your body slowly fading from existence with one final breath. 

The female’s body slumps motionless over yours, and her final memories of her brother play out one last time. 

…Then it’s just silence and the crackling of the ever approaching flames. 

When Azriel reaches The Alcove, the windows have all burst, angry tongues of fire licking the sky and gasping for breath. 

“Y/N!” Azriel roars, shooting off towards the door so hard the cobblestones crack beneath his feet. “Y/N!” 

White lights begin to splinter up the stone walls, filling invisible cracks that begin to take the shape of ancient runes. Swirls, symbols, repeating lines trace their way over the windows, sealing them shut as the flames start to hiss in protest, eating up the oxygen faster than they can draw breath. 

The door has been blown apart, the inside of The Alcove nothing more than a hurricane of ash and smoke. But when Azriel reaches them, he slams into an impenetrable wall of magic. 

“NO!” He crashes against the barrier. Light scatters outward, but holds against the shadows that burst forth from Azriel’s body. Power explodes from his siphons, but still the magic holds. 

“Y/N! Y/N!” He flies up to the windows and tries again to no avail.

The bond is still there, burning away in his chest with a passion. 

He will not lose you. Not like this. Not today. 

He touches back down on the ground, legs braced on the street as blue light begins to wrap around his chest and arms. His shadows mix in with them like ink in a tumultuous sea. 

He’s about to let his power flood out when he sees it - two dim pinpricks of light that pass through the barrier as easily as sparrows diving through the air.

You’re nothing more than a gray shadow, your knees and hands coated in a mixture of ash and blood, as you emerge from the roaring flames. Your eyes gleam a pale yellow, seeing and unseeing at the same time. You make it to the front steps and when you stumble, Azriel is there to catch you, one arm looping around your waist and you’re immediately thrust into another memory.

It’s dark and cold in the cellar. So dark that even after two days the most Azriel can do to prove he still exists is to slap his legs, then his arms, then his face. Then he knows he’s still alive. It’s the pain that helps him remember. 

“Y/n. Y/n. I need you to look at me.” Your eyes are unfocused, still glowing as Azriel helps you walk forward, one hand clasping yours close to his chest. “Y/n. Y/n. Please. Darling, please.” 

His mother sings to him, a gentle, sweet melody that’s filled with more sorrow than words. His hands are heavy with gauze and ointment, the lingering pain magnifying and shooting through his small body whenever he moves them to touch his mother’s face or to wrap his arms around her neck. 

But this is the only hour he’ll get with her this week. So he ignores the pain. He savors only the feeling of his mother’s arms around his weak back and the song she sings, hanging onto every word and committing them to memory. 

You’re vaguely aware of Helion’s deep voice shouting your name. When he touches you, you can feel his relief as acutely as the rumble of thunder before rain. The emotion rolls over you, calming your heart. 

For a brief moment you’re still the little girl he placed on top of the pegasus on your fortieth birthday. For a brief moment your mother is still alive, suppressing the smile on her lips as she watches the creature wobble to life, shake its wings, and begin to fly.

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Author's Note:

We're getting into the action/plot now folks! Hold on tight because I have IDEAS! It's going to take time for me to explain it all in the story, but I promise you I have a plan

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