#NOTHING IS LEFT BUT FERAL SCREAMING AND COMPLETE ADORATION

[glitchtricks94]

This was the best thing I've ever read Desi I need to kiss you right this minute on the mouth

Tongue-tied

Rengoku Kyojuro x GN! Reader

A birthday gift for the wonderful @glitchtricks94

Tags: smut, shibari, dom! reader

Masterlist

AN: I hope your brain goes brrr

“You seem to know your knots, little flame,” Kyojuro remarked as he looked at you weaving the ropes around his sturdy frame. The red stood out quite nicely against the slight tan, and the way his muscles jumped and moved underneath his skin made your mouth water. 

He was nearly entirely bare, save for his fundoshi and the shibari ropes, making him look like a present wrapped just for you. You smirked, all he needed was a bow on top - doable, but you were impatient today.

And so was he.

“When will it be done, dearest? I find myself quite…” he paused, leaning closer to you, “- needy…” Kyojuro finished breathlessly. 

You glanced down curiously, and saw a wet spot staining his fundoshi, showing you how desperate he was. Perhaps he should get some relief. He did sit still for you, like a good pet should…

You stood up, pulling away from him just as he was about to lean in to kiss you, nearly making him whine in protest. There was a chaise in the corner, which you sat upon; your fingers beckoned him to you. 

“Come, pet.”

Face flushed from ear to ear, Kyojuro obediently stood up, his abs rolling underneath his skin with the movement, and quickly walked closer. He remained silent and just stared at you with half-lidded eyes, the intensity of his desire burning just like the element he represented.

“What do you want from me?” you asked, knowing exactly what he craved. Yet you felt the terrible urge to deny him today.

“Y-your touch… please?” the usually confident Hashira had been turned into a needy beggar. The rush of power had you staring down at him despite being seated and him standing above you.

You shifted your position, your thighs opening up and said, “Ride my thigh then.”

“W-wha-”

“You heard me,” you cut him off. His face went a few shades darker in embarrassment and you saw his cock twitch in his fundoshi from the corner of your eye. Yet he said nothing, tongue-tied.

Reluctantly, Kyojuro moved to straddle your thigh, the way his arms were tied making him lean forward to keep his balance. His defined pecs, adorned by the red shibari ropes, nearly touched your chest, and you reached out to grip the knot right over his sternum to help him.

Breathless moan left his throat with the first drag of his clothed cock against your thigh. “Please-” He blinked rapidly, as if to keep tears at bay.

“I don’t want any words out of your pretty mouth unless it’s my name. Now, get to it.”

You tugged on the knot to press him against your thigh harshly, his whimper music to your ears.

Happy Birthday, Glitchie!

Network: @enchantedforest-network Dividers made by the amazing @benkeibear

[sleepinthrumyalarms]

— a study in demon

pairing: wednesday addams x fem!oni!reader

warnings: smut, lesbian sex, a/b/o dynamics in werewolves and demons, penetration, G!P!reader, it's demon girlcock OKAY, cockwarming, breeding kink, size kink, knotting, all characters are aged-up

summary: an unfortunate turn of events leaves wednesday with a very frustrated, very needy oni demon on her hands. what kind of girlfriend would she be if she didn't take care of her beloved?

word count: 4.5k

a/n: jesus christ, look at those warnings. this fic is a whole declaration of war. i went feral. i have nothing to say for myself. hope you enjoy

The first thing you feel when the annoying buzzing of the alarm pulls you out of your peaceful slumber is the immense heat of your body and the ache somewhere in your lower belly. A groan leaves your throat before you can even blink your eyes fully open, and you blindly reach for your phone to turn the screaming noise off.

You sit up on your bed and squint at the sunlight that streams through the tiny slit in the tightly shut curtains, opening a small calendar app that’s designed specifically for the creatures of your kind – and with a huff you realize your rut is coming in two days.

Damn it. You’ve completely forgotten about it. That certainly explains the aggressiveness and mood swings you’ve been having for the past week.

You open a new text message, sent from your girlfriend at 5:30 AM – not exactly an early riser, but definitely the type to pull an all-nighter on a school night – wishing you the most dreadful morning. You smile to yourself, and the smallest thought of her seems to be enough to motivate you to get out of bed and start the day despite the uncomfortable feeling stirring in your belly.

Thank all the gods almighty – Larissa Weems, especially – that it is still a non-uniform week at the Academy. Sitting in class with that tie wrapped around your throat like a noose would’ve killed you.

You rummage through your wardrobe, pulling out a tee and a pair of jeans, changing hastily, before your gaze falls on a particular item of clothing that definitely doesn’t belong in your closet.

It’s a black baggy zip hoodie, the one Wednesday constantly wears when out of class. It’s a surprise she has forgotten it at your place – your best guess is she must’ve left in one of your sweatshirts instead.

The fabric feels smooth in your grasp. Warm fleece lining. A bit abrasive on the outside.

Just like her.

You lift the hoodie to your face, burying your nose in the softness and inhaling.

Smells just like her, too.

Without a second thought you put it over your frame – though a bit more of a tight fit, it’s still slightly baggy on your shoulders – and zip it up, pulling the hood over your head to take another small whiff of the familiar scent.

That should get you through the day, you think.

And it does. For the first half of it, at least.

You take an extra suppressant pill during lunch, but skip the meal, opting to spend the free time in the quad to ventilate your head.

It feels better. Much, much better. Even though you don’t get to see Wednesday at the canteen.

You’re back inside for your last period – maths, and your mind gets too busy with the complicated equations and formulas to worry about the hormones running wild in your body.

You’re half-way through a very fucked-up problem with roots and sines before a strong aroma suddenly fills up your lungs – an omega’s pheromones, you realize, wide-eyed.

An omega who is in heat.

You lift your head up, giving the students around you a quick once-over – and your gaze meets a pair of golden orbs, a pretty girl with pink plump lips and fiery-red hair tied into a pony tail watches you with interest, her chin propped on her palm. As soon as you make eye-contact, she gives you a smile, revealing a small, adorable gap in the front row of her teeth.

You shake your head and smile back politely before turning back to your paper, but the rest of the class feels like you’re trapped in a suffocating cage of hot arousal that smells of yellow fruit and washed laundry.

As soon as the bell dismisses the students, you hastily pack your bag and bolt out of the door, desperate to lock yourself in your dorm room and just take care of this stupid predicament you’ve found yourself in. You’ve never been more grateful for the lack of a roommate.

“Hey, (Y/n).”

You stop and turn at the sound of your name being called, although the voice is quite unfamiliar – too melodic and gentle to be anyone you know.

“Hey, uh...”

It’s the redhead from maths. She watches you expectantly for a few moments before her face falls slightly, “It’s Dina! I was with the Black Cats last year. We met at the after party? The one Yoko hosted?” She sounds almost offended at the fact that you don’t remember her.

“Oh. Oh, right. Dina. Sorry. I’m really bad with names.” You smile apologetically.

“It’s fine. I’d be surprised if you remembered me, actually. This academy holds way too many ginger werewolves,” Dina chuckles, and falls in step with you to continue walking down the hall. “So, you up to anything right now?”

“No, not really. Just hoping to get back to the dorms and sleep my awful headache off. Been bugging me all day.”

It’s only a half-lie – your temples are still throbbing like crazy, and the pheromones you’ve smelled in class did nothing to help your case.

The werewolf tilts her head, pursing her plump lips, “Hmm... That’s too bad, because, actually...”

The smaller girl suddenly grabs your hips and pushes you – unprepared, you stumble to the side and right through the door of some random classroom. Barely able to catch your balance at Dina’s abrupt movement, your hands grasp at her forearms, desperately trying to steady the rest of your body.

“I was thinking I could help you relieve that pain of yours.”

She looks up at you, tilts her chin up slightly. The smell of citron and fresh linen suddenly fills your nose.

The same one you’ve felt in class.

The omega in heat.

Fuck.

The werewolf in front of you settles with pumping her pheromones at you wildly, her palms flitting from your hips down to your thighs, slowly closing in on your center – you do nothing to stop her, your own hands reaching behind you to grip the edge of the desk. Her eyes are glinting red now, slitted pupils never breaking eye contact with yours.

She presses her nose against your scent gland, and you feel her grin against your neck.

“I don’t smell an omega on you...” Shit. Of course Wednesday’s hoodie doesn’t smell like anything but her usual dark resins and woods scent. As much as it is alluring and recognizable to you, it’s not pheromones. “You haven’t mated with one yet? That’s just criminal... An alpha like you should spend all her ruts with a pretty omega impaled on her cock.”

You take a sharp inhale through your nose, feeling yourself throb treacherously at her words. Dina giggles softly, pressing her lips to your jaw, her mouth now inches away from yours.

“You know…” she starts sultry, voice heavy with unadulterated lust in a way that only an omega’s can sound to the ears of a rutting alpha, “I’ve never taken an oni’s knot before…”

You feel the werewolf squeeze your thighs, bare her claws in a sharp movement, “I wonder what it feels like.”

Your head is heavy, cloudy – you’re practically unable to resist, tusked mouth hanging open with small puffs of vapors fluttering out. The urge to bend the small werewolf over the desk and pound her into the wood feels even harder to resist, too.

An unpleasant feeling rattles through your chest, unbearable and disgusting. An image of dark-brown eyes and soft lips painted burgundy flashes through your mind.

You feel like you’re going to puke.

“No,” you rasp, pushing the werewolf away. “Get off me.”

Before the startled girl can retort, you stumble out of the classroom and slam the door closed, turning the key that has been left in the keyhole by some clumsy substitute.

You stumble for a moment, lifting a clawed palm to grasp at your head that has suddenly turned cloudy and heavy, and make your way towards the ladies’ restroom.

She must’ve felt the rut closing on you, and her own heat triggered it prematurely.

With shaky hands you pull out your phone, opening the messages app and texting the first person that comes to your clouded mind.

enid

bro you gotta ditch

it’s an emergency

i just stumbled into a girl

uhh dina?

she’s from ophelia hall

anyways i think she needs… help

yk

from a fellow omega wolf

i think she hasn’t been taking her suppressants

for some fucking reason

and yk it’s not like me to live a lady in distress

but i really had to dip

i was doing her a favor by dipping actually

i locked her up on the 2nd floor

202

i really had to leave

Pressing your back against one of the bathroom stalls, you wait anxiously as three gray dots dance on the screen.

The device dingles in your hands.

oooohh

its okay

i gotchu

u should totes find weds tho

im sure she can help u out ;))

You hide your phone in your pocket and open the tap to splash your face with cold water. It eases the flush of your face, but doesn’t calm the raging beast inside.

Your fingers grasp onto the edges of the sink tightly, almost making the marble crack.

As you walk through the corridors and up the stairs of Ophelia Hall, the only thought that occupies your mind is Wednesday. Wednesday and her dark eyes and her lips and her touch and the beautiful curve of her slender hips and everything that is your mate.

You don’t bother knocking, urgently swinging the door open.

And there it is. Your (f/c) sweater, no doubt one of her monochrome striped shirts under it.

Your palms are sweating. Claws digging into your pant legs, tusks into your lip.

The small ravenette turns in her seat to look at you, her fingers stilling over the keys of her typewriter.

Her braided hair looks pristine and untouched, her posture unmatched, the image perfect even when out of public sight.

“Ma bête,” she addresses softly, brows slightly raised in question. “You’re back. And you look… a trifle uncomfortable.”

Does she not know? There’s no way she doesn’t. Such details could never slip Wednesday’s unhealthily constantly alerted mind.

“Is something wrong?”

Fuck. Of course. There it is, that cruel glint in her eyes. You should’ve known.

She wants you to say it.

You shift on your feet. The temperature is becoming almost unbearable.

“I’m…”

Wednesday watches you, tilts her head just a tiny bit forward — dark, haunted eyes deadpan, staring you down, her jaw tightening slightly and relaxing in a way that is barely noticeable but has your gaze flicking down to the enticing slant of her neck.

“I’m… in a rut.” You admit, finally.

Wednesday’s eyes widen slightly — her posture straightens even more, the glint in her eyes turning dangerous, “Oh.” Yes, oh, as if she wasn’t aware. “Why are the suppressants not working?”

Should you admit that the small encounter with the horny omega has sent your hormones spiraling?

Wednesday is by no means a normal human, yet her nose lacks the capability of sensing alpha pheromones. Nevertheless, she can read you like a book, and she probably was aware of your coming rut long before you were. She simply likes abusing the knowledge.

“It must be bad then, if it has you reduced to such a pathetic state,” the goth tuts, drumming her fingers against her desk. “Pure torture, isn’t it, bête? I wish I could help you…”

Wednesday turns back to her paper, shrugging noncommittally, “Unfortunately, it is my writing hour, and you know how much I would detest an intervention in my schedule.”

You whine as the drumming of her keys resumes – like a kicked puppy, you turn to reach for the doorknob, prepared to return back to the restroom and take care of yourself to the thought of your ever-so beautiful and unyielding girlfriend.

Wednesday’s fingers still on the typewriter.

“But I suppose… We can reach a consensus.”

The legs of her chair scrape against the hardwood floor, and you turn to find Wednesday standing next to the desk, palm resting on the back of the seat invitingly.

“Come here.”

You’re beside Wednesday before the whole command can escape her mouth, and she gives a small, amused huff that almost has you howling and gnawing at furniture, then gestures at the chair, “Sit. Unbutton your pants, underwear off.”

You reach to do as told, pulling at a pant-leg to finally discard the constricting garment before the ravenette slaps your hand, “Just the button and the zipper, (Y/n). Do not make me repeat myself.”

You gulp and take a seat at her desk, tugging the elastic of your boxers down to free the hard shaft.

The dark, intense gaze Wednesday is watching you with makes you blush and throb, excitement and arousal mixing with the slightest of embarrassments only her presence can induce.

“Good girl,” she hums, circling the chair like a hunting lioness. “I will allow you to be inside me, just this once. I will not allow you to touch me in any other way. If I feel any movement, internal or external, you will be punished. And by no means are you allowed to cum. Not without my permission. Are the instructions clear, beast? Nod your empty little head if affirmative.”

You nod with a small whimper at the derogatory words, though they do nothing to soothe the aching hardness between your legs.

“Good, good. Well, since the terms are settled, I shall get started.”

Before you can respond, Wednesday steps closer to the desk, slightly flipping her skirt with a quick movement of her hand and letting you catch the smallest of glimpses of her pretty pussy – the show is over before you can marvel though, and the seer sits on your lap, your length pressing against her lower back.

Like this, with no distance left between you, her scent is encompassing your whole being. No pheromones can compare to the way Wednesday smells, the rich, woodsy notes of a forest soaked in rainwater luring you in as you take a small inhale.

You bite back a growl, but a small noise of frustration still manages to reach the ravenette’s sharp hearing.

“Quiet, beast.” She scolds, her tone of voice far from playful, and reaches to straighten her skirt carefully, flicking the non-existing dust off the garment in a graceful movement of her palm.

Then, before you can downright keen with impatience, the same hand moves behind to wrap around your hard member, giving it a squeeze so light it is almost torturous –  Wednesday lifts her hips and presses the head against the warmth of her entrance.

That first contact feels like electricity and fire in your belly, worsened when you feel your cock split her lips open, stretching her taut around it, and the smallest worry that you might just not fit passes through your rut-clouded mind.

Then again, Wednesday might not even be merciful enough to sheathe you fully inside her, but the thought of being too big to be properly seated in her cunt is tantalizing and excruciating at the same time.

A small, relieved sigh escapes Wednesday’s lips –  the sensation of being filled up with you is like no other, and she can’t help but relish in it despite her aggravation. She takes her time, feeling every inch push deeper inside her and stretch her out, the thick shaft splitting her open, then her thighs press into yours and she stills completely.

If she had to, the goth would put all the time and work in to stretch herself out with your girth, to take all of you inside her like she was molded just for that single purpose. It’s not like Wednesday has something to prove to anyone – or maybe she has, to you, that no one else at Nevermore could take you so well and make all your resolve, might and dominance provided to you by nature, or by gods, or by whatever entity has created such a delectable beast as you crumble under her and make it natural for you to submit to the seer.

And oh does submissiveness look good on you, too – or at least it sounds good, if your heavy breathing mixed with quiet whines hitting her ear is anything to go by.

Wednesday is reminded of her goal suddenly when she feels your hips buck instinctually into her, and the ravenette has to hold back a sound of pleasure at the movement, because she can’t fight how incredible the pressure feels, making her velvet walls flutter. She’s still holding the reins when she tightens her pussy around your throbbing dick purposefully, a trace of a small smirk on her plush burgundy lips at the needy and wanton groan that escapes your mouth.

That was a good enough treat, she thinks. Now to the sticks.

Wednesday kicks you in the shin with the side of her loafer, pulling you out of your pleasure-induced trance and making you flinch.

“Move closer to the desk, beast. I need to be able to reach the keys in order to type.”

You grunt, shuffling the chair closer with your weight, nudging Wednesday’s body forward, and the slightest shift makes you hiss — she slides a few inches up your shaft before she’s at the base again, seated nice and snug, her thighs resting on yours. Your hands fall to grapple at them, and you receive another painful kick.

“No. Hands off. If you are unable to control yourself, I will shun you out.” Wednesday scolds, though has to hide the effect the feeling of your claws curling around her have, and fails. Her voice sounds more breathless than she has intended.

She has a hard time admitting to herself how torturous this is for her, too. The seer sneaks a glance down to where the thick shaft splits her open, so tight she can practically feel it throbbing against her clit. A small bead of precum runs down, skirting one of the throbbing veins.

Wednesday’s restraint is laudable.

“Messy creature,” she murmurs, her tone surprisingly soft, before the paper in front of her takes over her attention again. Straightening her back, the ravenette goes back to her writing as if she’s not full of demon cock right now.

You try to focus on the rapid clatter of the keys, on the way Wednesday’s elegant fingers dance over the typewriter, maybe try and catch a glance of the words the girl is printing on the paper. Anything to pull your mind away from the tight warmth hugging your aching cock, from weight of the small body pressed against you.

The demon inside of you is raging, howling, salivating between huge tusks. The monster is not as prejudiced as the fellow oni of your clan are – it doesn’t care if it’s another demon or a human you’re nestled inside. It demands the frail body pressed against your own is filled up and bred, demands the goth takes all of you, stretching around your swollen knot before it's barely able to slip inside.

Not just any body. Or some omega. Wednesday. Wednesday who isn’t even a part of that animalistic system, but the beast begs for more, wants all of her more, more with each passing second.

A growl mixed with a whimper escapes your mouth – you have no idea what to do with your hands, so you press them into the edge of the table on either side of Wednesday’s typewriter, claws digging into the dark wood. The involuntarily display of strength has the small female tightening around you with a gentle hitch of her breath, making you groan.

“Wednesday,” you rasp through clenched teeth. “I can’t. Please. I’m losing control.”

“O-oh, are you?” The goth inquires mockingly, hoping you don’t take notice of her slight stutter.

“Mhm,” you nod dumbly. “Wanna take you so bad. Wanna fuck you full of me.”

Wednesday can’t fight the way her pussy constricts around you again, though the determination not to lose control remains, strong as ever. She abandons the keys to reach a hand into your hair, grabbing a fistful of (h/c) locks to pull and make you meet her gaze, “Whose is it, (Y/n)?”

You furrow your brows in confusion, making Wednesday’s frown deepen – a hint for the right answer comes in the form of the seer’s hips lifting and rocking back down, the friction making you hiss.

“Answer me.”

“Yours.” You swallow. “Yours, Wednesday. Every- every inch is.”

“Good. Good girl.” She coos, easing her hold on you to rake her short nails down the back of your neck, making goosebumps litter your body. “Bed, beast. Now.”

A low growl rumbling in your chest and vibrating against her back is the only warning Wednesday gets before she’s lifted into the air sharply.

In a rough, barely controlled movement you stand up so fast you topple the chair over, flipping the girl with ease and walking a couple of steps to press her against the bed, the ravenette’s cunt still snug around your shaft. A clawed hand reaches for a pillow hastily to cushion Wednesday’s head, the last resemblance of caring gentleness in your actions before you pull out to the tip and buck back inside.

Wednesday’s head snaps back, mouth falling open in pleasure as you pin her down into the mattress, fucking hard into the welcoming, tight warmth of her pussy. Despite the dynamics of oni demons still being fairly alien to Wednesday – not as alien apparently, as she knows the frequency and signs of your rut better than you do and isn’t opposed to using it against you – she now seems to understand the appeal of being absolutely destroyed by an alpha that omegas in heat are so partial to.

As delectable as the thought is, it rekindles the spark of possessiveness that she thought has almost been extinguished. The goth wraps her arms around your shoulders, pulling your bodies flush together.

Hers. No one else’s.

Not some other depraved omega girl’s so desperate to get a taste of you.

“You foolish brute.” She pants as if it’s your fault you seem to be irresistible to other women, voice trembling slightly, her breath completely pushed out of her lungs with each of your thrusts. “You better make good on your promise and breed me like a good alpha should.”

The monster inside you roars at the proposition that is so obviously supposed to be taunting. Your palms slide down the girl’s waist, thumbs brushing against the protruding hipbones to dip into the supple flesh sitting low under her navel, holding her tightly, almost hard enough to bruise and match the brutal pace of your hips rutting into Wednesday, your cock splitting her open deliciously in a toe-curling sensation that has Wednesday’s head falling back against the dark pillows.

The sight under you has you growling savagely – your tongue lolls out to lick a thick stripe up the exposed skin of the ravenette’s neck before you bite down, huge tusks clasping around her throat and keeping Wednesday in place completely, her pulse wild against the rough surface of your muscle. Her pussy constricts around your cock, clamping down hard in an attempt to keep the thick shaft buried to the hilt every time you pull out and quivering when you slam back inside and fill her up enough for the tip to kiss the entrance of her womb, never letting the small female catch her breath.

The lustful fog of ardent fervor clouding Wednesday’s brain doesn’t numb her to the sensation of a swelling at the base of your shaft nudging against her opening every time your hips meet hers. It threatens to push in, catches deliciously on Wednesday’s clit with each thrust and she can feel herself getting painfully close.

But she will not. For the sake of the one thing she wants more than anything else, the goth will deprive herself.

“Knot me.” She rasps into your ear, her feet pushing into your lower back to urge you deeper inside. “Mia bestia, mia alfa. Dentro. Ven dentro di mi.”

You’d have no clue what she has just said on a normal day, and you have zero idea right now, buried eight inches deep inside of her, but the breathless, desperate pants of Italian have you turning feral. In one last brutal thrust the knot slips past Wednesday’s tight lips and inside, stretching and filling her so thoroughly and impossibly delicious it has her eyes rolling into the back of her head. A spill of wetness from her own release rushing forth as she clamps down on your cock lubes her aching walls, helping the bulging slide in firmly.

Your lips gravitate to hers, pulled to her like a magnet, and you growl into her mouth as your cum spills hotly, taking up any remaining space inside the small female and her walls ripple, begging for more. Wednesday's arms tighten around your shoulders and legs squeeze around your hips to keep you close.

You throb with sated completion, press lazy kisses to the seer’s brow and flushed cheeks, and watch as her eyes flutter open to meet yours, her chest heavy with steamy breaths.

“Too hot, huh?” You ask, jaw slack slightly.

Wednesday gives a weak nod, and you reach to tug the sweater off her shoulders, then unzip her skirt to slip it down her pale legs, leaving the girl in just her striped shirt. The newly exposed skin provides better contact for you to revel in – you purr in satisfaction and move to join the seer on the bed, careful not to crush her, and maneuver her small body in your palms to pull her on top of you.

Wednesday huffs but doesn’t resist, nudging at your neck with her nose and pressing a soft kiss to your jugular in an uncharacteristic display of affection.

“How did you find out?” You murmur, lifting your hands to start undoing one of the ravenette’s loosened braids leisurely.

“I have my ways.”

You hum at the vague reply, now certain that the disembodied hand following you around the whole day wasn’t just your imagination playing tricks, “I hope you know I had no intention to lie to you or anything. You just- you didn’t exactly give me a chance to speak.”

“Your explanation wasn’t necessary. I’m well aware of what happened.” The movement of the seer’s plush lips tickles your skin pleasantly, her voice now void of its previous detachment.

You smile softly, finished with unbraiding her hair, your fingers threading through the silky raven locks, careful not to give an accidental tug. Wednesday closes her eyes at your touch, and the tranquility of the moment has you feeling like a cat basking in warm sunlight, despite the object of your passions being a complete opposite to it.

“I’ll have to consult Enid on the topic of which herbs are the deadliest to werewolves.”

“Wednesday.”

[bananasomg]

#22 maxiel

hello my love, i'm here to deliver your ficlet request from this great prompt ask.

here is #22. Maxiel: things you said after it was over. you thought it was gonna be angsty, but it's the exact opposite of that. gotta keep you on your toes. 🫶🏼

ily thanks for indulging me because you know i'm doing anything to avoid monza and the notorious a/b/o yacht fic.

things you said after it was over

Max’s hotel room is way nicer than his, but that’s a given. He’s the reigning world champion, and Daniel’s just a former Red Bull driver turned marketing dog. 

Daniel sighs, tosses the condom in the trash by Max’s California King. Conveniently placed, he thinks. Maybe this is a normal occurrence for Max—shagging former drivers between practice sessions. He doesn’t want to think like that, but he’s been known to have a few paramours that worship the ground he walks on.

“You going back to your room?” Max asks when Daniel begins to search for his clothes, discarded in the tumble at the foot of the bed. 

“Uh.” Daniel hesitates, cocking his hip as he tries to figure out the coolest, most casual response. Something that screams noncommittal and having fun. 

He settles with, “I guess so, yeah.”

“Oh,” Max replies. He frowns, his cheeks still red from the aftermath of Daniel’s tongue. The sullen debauched look is unbearable, and Daniel abandons his search and pads back to the bed. Max’s nose scrunches adorably when he flops onto the hotel mattress. The corners of his lips curl into a smile, glad he came back.  

Fuck, he’s cute.

Daniel can read his expressions like a speedometer, his heart racing a hundred kilometers an hour. It’s always been like this. Maybe that’s just what it’s like to have good sex. And if you ask him, they’re very good at fucking—it’s the after part they’re still figuring out. Some days are worse than others. Daniel hopes today is better. 

Max’s finger sweeps lazily over Daniel’s bare chest, lingering on the love bite he left below his right pec. It’s not super noticeable on his tan skin, but it felt significant. Max’s own personal brand. A way to claim him—Possessive and feral. Two words he normally associates with Max when he’s inside the car. He never contemplated how it might extend to his love life. He is full of surprises it seems.

“Do you wanna sleep here?” Max asks. 

“Um, with you?” Daniel rubs the back of his neck. He isn’t sure why his voice squeaks and it’s embarrassing and he feels his face getting uncomfortably warm, which is so not suave. 

“No, Daniel. Alone. I’m going to leave my room and go bunk with Christian.” Max rolls his eyes but can’t hold back the playful grin when Daniel shakes his head. 

Daniel laughs, semi-awkward huffs like he gets it. 

Max says, “I’m like—into you. You know that, yeah?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, you kinda have to be to let me—”

“No, you’re not listening.” Max bites his lip, palm resting flat on Daniel’s chest. “I mean, I really like you. As in, I haven’t seen anyone else for weeks. Not since—” 

“Silverstone,” Daniel whispers. It’s not a question. 

Max’s purposeful blue eyes flicker onyx beneath the dim light from the nightstand. God, Daniel thinks he could get lost in those eyes—so expressive and vast, and ever-changing like the tide. 

What might have seemed unbelievable before is completely plausible. Because Daniel hasn’t seen anyone else either. Not since they started hooking up almost nine weeks ago. 

The British Grand Prix was nothing special this year, his race a wash, Max taking P2, so he’d been surprised that his night ended with Max shoving him against the door of his motorhome, licking into his mouth like a starved man, tasting every expanse of skin available like he couldn’t keep going without learning every part of his body. 

Belgium had been the turning point when Max requested his presence, showing him off in a helicopter headed to Capri. And after escaping from the media circus and dropping off the parents it was just the two of them—stolen kisses and warm promises on the beach. 

“You too?” Max asks. He sounds hopeful and confident, gazing at him like he’s the most handsome man he’s ever set eyes on, and Daniel really wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. 

“Yeah, Maxy. Me too.” 

The way Max smiles makes him feel like King of the Mountain. Like he could actually lasso the fucking moon and pull it down just for him.

[pastshadows]

Shadows of the Past

Chapter 20: A Plea for Tomorrow

Summary: After a year of blissful cohabitation, Astarion disappears without a trace, leaving behind a heartfelt letter explaining his departure. Determined to find him, you traverse Faerûn in search of your lost love, only to realize that some absences are meant to be permanent.

Returning to Waterdeep, you find solace in the company of Gale as you come to terms with Astarion's absence. But just as you begin to heal, Astarion reappears, begging for a second chance at love.

The question looms: can you forgive his abandonment and trust him once more? As you grapple with your emotions and trauma, a sinister force lurks in the shadows, targeting you for unknown reasons.

With danger closing in, you must navigate the treacherous waters of trust, love, and betrayal to uncover the truth behind the mysterious entity's motives. Will you be able to reunite with Astarion while facing the demons of your past? Can you unravel the secrets that threaten your very existence?

Setting: Post End-Game. Mostly canon compliant.

Word Count: 5.5K

Content: Explicit 18+ - intended for mature audiences.

Warnings: [Additional tags will be added, but expect mature content / read at your own risk.]

Spoilers. Mentions of in-game missable content. Violence. Sexual Assault [Implied/attempted sexual assault: Chapter 7]. Past Trauma. Murder. Death. Longing. Sexual themes. Smut. Blood drinking. Angst. Innuendos. High use of sarcasm. Completely fabricated camp interactions. Panic attacks. Anxiety.

Marry me?

The fabric of time warps, slowing and then seemingly stopping in concordance with your heart as you watch Astarion and Aldous grapple with each other. Your throat constricts around the sound of the erratic scuffing of Astarion’s soft-soled boots as he loses his footing. Every blistering beat of your heart circulates a new shockwave of escalating panic that paralyzes your body. It feels like being trapped in your own skin, your bones becoming a cage that keeps you frozen in time. The only indication that you’re screaming is the burn that roars through your throat as you let out a soul-shattering wail.

They say that when you’re about to die, your life flashes before your eyes, but what happens when it’s not you who is dying but your soulmate? Your mind’s eye combusts into a carnival of flashing memories: the first glance of him on the coastline, the first real smile, his infectious laughter, the first kiss, the first hug, the first time he said I love you, the way his scarlet eyes always seemed to dance with a mixture of mischief and adoration when he looked at you.

Every memory is so vivid that it floods your senses. You can hear his voice uttering words that leave you defenceless, feel his skin against yours with every touch in stolen moments, feel the coolness of whispered secrets fan the heated skin of your cheeks, and hear his promises of eternity toll like a soft bell in your ears.

An eternity that now dangles in a void. You can almost see the seductive smile of death, circling like a raven-coloured vulture in the squirming shadows of the Underdark, ready to descend on the ruins of your life and pick them clean of the last scraps of hope.

How many times will you be forced to lose him? How many times can your soul stand to be broken again and again and again until nothing of you remains but a shattered husk? The memories twist into you like a knife, piercing your heart and soul, poisoning the joy into a medley of nauseating heartbreak.

Why didn’t you listen to Shadowheart, Gale, and Hecat? They had protested before you left camp. You paid little attention to their pleas and focused instead on Astarion’s protests. It made sense to leave them behind when you thought the feral spawn were a danger. The more beating hearts, the more it would send them into a frenzy should you run into them, but you had not anticipated Aldous.

You should have known better. Turn your head for one second, and fate will twist the tables against you. You’re used to keeping steps ahead of your adversaries, but you’ve been too caught up in your own pain, too afraid to think straight, and now that preoccupation has had an unfathomable cost. The realization washes over you in waves of shattered dreams and love, leaving only emptiness and unbearable grief in their wake.

No.

It cannot be.

It will not be.

You’re not sure what you would call the feeling that takes over your body as you sweat off the ice that has kept you bound in place, and you begin to wake up from this nightmare and spring into action. You sprint and leap off the edge of the derelict tower. Is it an impulse? Instinct? An inherent tendency toward self-destruction? Whatever it is, it blanks your brain enough to barely recognize that you’re moving forward until you’re plummeting.

A prickling sensation across the skin of your back invites you to lean into it, and you do, allowing your body to take control. The Weave revolves around you, sweeping across your skin in a rosy aura. Your robe is shred to pieces as a pair of dragon wings sprout into existence, expanding to their full span with a thunderous roar.

Your eyes lock with Astarion’s, and your adrenaline surges, detonating into determination. Mustering all your strength, your wings beat the air in a powerful down stroke, and you send yourself hurtling earthward. The tattered strips of your robe flutter in the rush of the current, your hair whips wildly across your face, and your arms outstretch, reflexively teaching toward Astarion as you dive.

Aldous bursts in a red puff of haze in midair, similar to what Astarion’s siblings had done when Cazador called them back from the attack on your camp. You’ve never been against killing, per se, realizing that sometimes it’s necessary, but you’ve always considered it more of a last resort. It was one of the reasons you agreed with Astarion when he wanted to release the spawn. They deserved a chance to live.

Aldous will not be given the same opportunity. Whether he can control his actions or not, you cannot wait to bring about his demise.

The tips of Astarion’s fingers brush yours as he reaches toward you with an awestruck expression. I’ve got you, you whisper, but the sound of your voice is lost in the torrential roar of the wind. The gentle brush against your fingertips is like pulling the ripcord from your heart, and your steadfast stubbornness and obstinacy drive away the survival instinct to slow your rate of descent as you see the other spawn begin to shatter against the looming earth in sprays of blooming red mist.

With a quick aerial manoeuvre, your arms enfold around Astarion’s waist, hooking under his arms to catch his dangling body, and your wings shoot out and expand to their full span. The lurch from his weight and yours as you try to slow the rate of descent feels like it nearly tears your arms from your body, and you grit your teeth against the pain of your bones and muscles straining in their sockets.

The ground is still coming up to embrace you much too quickly, and your wings beat against the air furiously as you try to fight the laws of physics and gravity. You manage to shift your position slightly to your left, so that the small, spindly Sussur tree is far enough away that your magic cannot be depleted and its branches cannot inadvertently stake Astarion.

With each beat of your wings, your altitude continues to diminish, and you realize that you will not be able to carry the weight of both of you. Your hope wanes, and Astarion seems to have the same realization. He tugs at your wrists in a plea for you to let him go, lest you both meet your demise. Your grip on him only intensifies along with your resolve, and with a final, desperate surge of power, your wings buffet the air, slowing your fall just enough to cushion the impact.

Curling your wings around Astarion to protect him, you crash into the rigid terrain, bouncing across it like a skipping stone. The force of the collision rips Astarion out of your arms, and the coarse sediment rends your arms, legs, and face as you skid over the abrasive soil. The air is expelled from your lungs in a heaving wheeze, and you fight to fill them again when your body finally lies fallow.

Agony radiates through every one of your limbs, and a piercing ache snarls your lungs with every breath. The frigid air gnaws at the skin exposed between the remaining ragged pieces of what is left of your robe, chilling you to the core. Seconds, minutes, or hours pass, trapped in this limbo while you fight the relentless pull of darkness beginning to envelop you like a suffocating blanket.

You war against the threat of unconsciousness as black creeps further and further into your vision with every stunned, slow blink. Eventually, you lose the battle to cling to the fragile thread of life, and you’re carried away on the wings of vestigial oblivion.

Your sandals clack against the paved streets as you and Astarion make a quick getaway from the Blushing Mermaid. You try your best to stifle your inebriated giggling as Astarion ducks you in and out of dark alleys and passageways, over fences, and through backyards, until he’s assessed that you’re far enough away that the patrons you swindled will not be able to track you down.

“That was your fault, love.” He chuckles exuberantly while smoothing your sundress down, tugging at the hem that rode up during your retreat, exposing the skin of your upper thighs.

“My fault?” You huff and shove him playfully. He barely wavers on his feet, and you end up sending yourself stumbling backwards, the spirits in your blood making your limbs loose and unsteady. Astarion’s quick to dart forward, and he wraps his arms around you, lifting you off your feet slightly. You wriggle in his arms, but eventually give up trying to escape his clutch. You wrap your legs around his waist. “I’m not the one who robbed them of all their coin in a game you knew they had no hope of winning!”

“Smart people don’t make bets unless they know they can win,” he snickers with a mischievous delight twinkling in his ruby-red eyes that are still bright against the dim light of the alley. “You were encouraging me!” He mimics your voice irritatingly well but adds his own flamboyant touch. “Come on, Astarion. Just one more round. Give them a chance to win their coin back.”

You snort to showcase your dissatisfaction and descend into a fretful fit of giggling. “Okay. I may have done that. What can I say? I just adore watching you in your element, Rogue.”

He pushes your back up against a wall and catches your lips in a kiss almost as rough as the stone pressed against your back. His skilled fingers kneed into the meat of your thighs with the perfect pressure, almost bordering on pleasurable pain.

“I’d be happy to demonstrate all my talents if you’re amenable,” he purrs, running his fingernails up and down the sensitive skin on the backs of your thighs. It sends a shiver cartwheeling down all the nerves of your spinal cord, and you sigh into his greedy mouth. “Come. Let’s go home, yes? As much as I would adore to take you right here, I am far too selfish, and you, my love, are far too loud.”

“As if you’re not equally as loud,” you taunt.

He places you carefully back on your feet, making sure you’re steady before offering his hand.

“I never was before, you know,” he says, half bashfully, half thoughtfully, with a slightly canted head. “I suppose you make me feel heights of pleasure that were previously unknown to me. The firsts are ever abundant with you.”

“Is that another one of your famous lines?” You quip with an arched brow.

He laughs heartily. “Sweetheart, my lines are markedly more exceptional than that.”

Astarion peeks around the corner to make sure that there are no guards walking the main concourse before you venture out onto it and start to make your way home. The conversation between you flows light and smooth until suddenly Astarion goes silent, and you realize he’s not beside you any longer.

When you look back, he stands and stares up at the tall, dark tower that stands like a poltergeist, looming high into the sky and casting a shadow over the city streets. You usually try to avoid this area with him, because every time he sees his old home, the now abandoned Szarr Palace, he looks at it sombrely. Sometimes you wonder if he regrets not completing the Rite, and that tower is an ever-standing reminder of what he could have had if only he hadn’t listened to you.

“Astarion?” You look up at the tower, standing like a thorn in the sky, casting a black mark upon the soul of the city. “Are you alright?”

With his attention enraptured on the abandoned palace, he doesn’t answer for a spell, and a frown settles over his expression, creasing his forehead and curling his lip up. You place your hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Hmm?” Astarion jolts slightly at the physical contact and does a double take, as if he didn’t even remember you were there in the first place. “Apologies. I’m fine. I just detest that building.”

The words erupt out of your mouth before you have time to think about them. “Let’s burn it to the fucking ground.”

Astarion chuckles but cuts himself off abruptly as he reads the fire in your eyes and the motivated heat in your expression. “You’re not joking, are you?”

“No.”

Your fingernails press into your tingling palms as your magic spikes and warms your skin. You may not be able to cleanse his mind of the horrors that infect his thoughts, but maybe you can cauterize the still-bleeding wounds in his soul, however slightly.

Astarion glances around and speaks in hushed tones. “As much as I would very much love that, the damn thing is constructed mostly of stone.”

“You’re about to be very impressed with me,” you wink. “Come on.”

You take his hand and tug him along, sneaking up through the back where you entered the first time. Not entirely surprisingly, it’s sparsely guarded, and by sparsely, you mean not at all. With Cazador dead and the Netherbrain attacks reducing the number of Fists substantially, they no longer patrol this area, and you’re able to walk straight in.

The door creeks forebodingly as you push it open, finding it unlocked. Cobwebs hang from the scones and writhe in the light breeze from the open door as they hang from the ceiling like strings of thinning memories. The obnoxious art is starting to peel away from the canvases, along with the wallpaper. It looks nothing like you remember it — forgotten and forsaken by the elements and time. Yet, the oppressive atmosphere still bears down on you with the weight of centuries.

Astarion stares spitefully at a decaying portrait of Cazador that seems to stare back at him with the same haughty disdain.

“Burn it, love,” you coo, letting a flame hover above your palm. “You cast terribly, but well enough for this.”

Astarion scoffs. “I’ve been casting—“

“Since before I was born,” you finish with a smirk. “Yes, yes. You keep reminding me how old you are. It doesn’t mean you cast well.”

Astarion’s nose wrinkles, but he shakes his head with a smile. He stares at the painting for a moment longer before he reels back. “Ignis!”

Cazador’s painting takes on a flame like dry timber and burns brightly in the midst of the gloomy darkness. You hope he burns in the flames of the Hells with such ardent fervour.

With a quick twitch of your fingers, you cast Telekinesis and fling a table across the foyer. It slams into the wall with a thud that echos through the deserted hallways and bursts into pieces that land haphazardly around the floor.

“Let’s trash it!” Astarion growls excitedly with a half-crazed, dark smile snaking across his lips.

The two of you run through the palace halls, laughing and breaking everything in sight. Sometimes you smash it, sometimes you burn it, and sometimes both, depending on what the item is or how it seems to affect Astarion. It’s quite cathartic, even for you, and you were not witness to the horrors that took place within these walls.

You can only hope it’s similar, if not better, for Astarion.

Astarion pays special care to Cazador’s study, where he was barred from going for two centuries. He flips the desk with little effort and sets the books aflame. His expression is one of almost madness as he tears through his prior life like a dragon tears through flesh.

You keep quiet, allowing him to relish in this destruction until there’s nothing left but your ragged breaths and the broken pieces of a life that once was. Smoke clings to the air from the burning furniture.

“Well,” Astarion pants, “I suppose that’s the best we can do.”

You smirk and lay your hand on one of the stone columns. Fire encircles it, burning brighter and brighter until the stone itself becomes molten and starts to drip like the wax of a candle. It takes not a trivial amount of your power to do so, but you do not let the effort of it show.

“You have the power of dragons at your side, my love. Stone is no match for me. What do you say we bring this whole building down?”

“Burn it, my fiery love.” Astarion takes one last glance around at what had been his home, or perhaps prison, for centuries. His brows pull down low over his eyes, and his teeth are bared. His voice is all gravel and malice. “Burn it all to the fucking ground.”

The Weave swarms into your body as you gather all the power you can possibly muster. The air around you vibrates, crackling with anticipation and energy. The auroral shimmer from your magic mirrors that of the frenzied blames you’re about to unleash.

Your eyes anchor on Astarion’s, and you hold your hand out to him. “Together.”

He takes your hand, fire blooming in his palm, and he gives you a curt nod. You unleash a torrent of fire that expands outward like a supernova. Your magic and his intertwine, tangling together like the limbs of long, lost lovers who have finally found each other’s embrace once more. The inferno swims through hallways like liquid, up the walls, and decimates everything in sight. The stones begin to melt under the searing heat, and black smoke billows across the ceiling.

Pushing yourself to the limits of your power, you compel the fire to burn white hot and shroud every possible surface in it until all is flame, ash, and smoke. There is a fierce sense of satisfaction that emboldens you, like you are cleansing the world of the atrocities that were committed within these walls. The flames leap as if aggravated, a pyre of vengeance, and they begin their insatiable dance across any surface they touch.

The fire burns with a brightness unknown to these corridors in countless years, and you have to squint your eyes against the light and heat of it. Sweat instantly veils your skin, dripping down your forehead. Astarion tugs on your arm, pulling you toward the doorway and across the threshold into the night.

You and him watch from a safe distance, staying off the main road so as not to be seen. Flames twist like serpents out of windows, black smoke billows into the night sky, and embers rise from the stone tower like angry red eyes against the darkness. With a final explosive burst, the palace begins to collapse in on itself.

The flames will consume the last vestiges of that place, and there will be nothing but a smouldering ruin where Cazador’s grand palace once stood by morning.

You wish Astarion could stay and see it.

Astarion’s ears twitch suddenly. “As much as I would love to stay and watch, we must be going. Guards are on their way, and I would rather not get arrested tonight. Dawn will be upon us soon.”

He grabs your hand and leads you to avoid the paths of the guards. It’s a silent retreat, with the both of you glancing back periodically to admire your handiwork.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t stay and watch,” you say, sweeping your thumb across the back of his hand comfortingly.

“It’s okay, my sweet.” He offers you a small, albeit sad, smile before pulling you along. “I belong in the shadows. They are part of me.”

But they don’t have to be…

Astarion hesitates, only for a moment, and brushes his thumb across your cheek, wiping away the mix of sweat and soot. “This is a gift, you know. Thank you. I won’t forget it.”

Taste is the first sense that comes back to you, and the copper tang of blood films your mouth. Dirt grinds between your teeth when you clench your jaw, and you try to force your eyes to open. Your eyelashes hardly flutter, even though you’re straining. It’s as if they’ve been glued shut. There is a persistent ringing in your ears, like insects are buzzing annoyingly right beside them, and you cannot hear your surroundings well.

Your stiff and achey fingers twist into the soil beneath you, and you grasp blindly for anything that might keep you from descending back into the unconsciousness that your battered body yearns for. When you are finally able to pry your eyes open, the world is nothing but a confusing swirl of darkness and light that makes your brain pulse in your skull.

You try to move, but your limbs are laden, and a searing agony shoots through you that keeps you pinned to the cold, damp earth. A wave of thick dizziness blankets you with every small movement. Your hand comes to your head as if you might be able to steady your vision by holding it and comes away, slick with blood smeared across your dirty palm.

Fragments of memories begin to coalesce until they wash over you like a tsunami, nearly knocking you back to the ground in their intensity.

Aldous. The spawn. The battle. Astarion.

Astarion.

Your heart begins to pound against your ribs, revived by panic and love simultaneously. You manage to sit up, but the world around you swims, blurs, and distorts. Your wings are limp, dragging at your back, and you relinquish the manifestation. They waver, flickering as the magic is dispelled, and fade out, leaving behind only rosy, needlepoint glitter that rises into the air and ebbs.

Dread claws at your throat. “Astarion?!” You croak; your voice is rough and cracking. “Astarion!”

Just like it didn’t the first time you were down here alone, the only answer you get from the impenetrable darkness is the echoing of your own frightened cries. Gathering your dwindling strength, you manage to drag yourself to your hands and knees. Everything spins, blurring and contorting in a sickening disarray, and you dry-retch repeatedly. Your unquenchable desire to ensure Astarion's survival propels you forward.

You do not allow yourself to think about the alternate possibility.

Crawling on your hands and knees, you search forward blindly while your injured body screams in protest with every movement. The earth is uneven and littered with remnants of the tower that have crumpled away over the years, and you must drag yourself through the rubble.

You manage to hoist yourself to your feet with the aid of a large boulder. Leaning against it to keep yourself upright, you survey the bleak surroundings. Pale, motionless figures litter the ground in broken heaps. With your vision still hazy, it’s hard to discern details from afar. You stumble toward them, tripping over your own feet, rocks, and roots alike.

The scene is like walking through a surreal nightmare. The bodies are gruesomely mangled, some of them barely recognizable as people. Blood from the wound on your head drips into your eyes, sitting heavy on your lashes. Your horror mounts, your hands shake, and your breath rattles out of your trembling lips the longer you search.

“Astarion?” You call out again, and again, a deafening silence is the only answer you receive. “Astarion, please,” you whimper, devastated, rubbing your eyes to try and clear your vision.

An arm shoots out, clawed fingers wrap around your ankle, and they sweep you off your feet. Blood-red eyes set against a backdrop of inky black bore into you with a crazed fixation. The spawn crawls up your body, its fingers clawing at your flesh. Its legs are broken and bent in unnatural positions, and its jaw hangs loose on one side as it tries to sink its fangs into you.

Your tired arms strain against its weight, struggling to keep it away from your neck. You grit your teeth against the pain, and a deep-seated, previously repressed rage kindles and arcs within you. This world has used you up and let you down. Gods and devils alike have tried to use you for their own means, stepping on you, and you have refused to break.

You will not be killed here. Whatever it takes. You try to call on your magic, but it barely sparks across your fingertips before fizzling out.

Your power is depleted until you rest.

One hand relinquishes its grip on the spawn and chaotically searches the earth beside your body for something, anything, you can use as a weapon. The spawn lurches forward, its fingers blindly grasping at your face and hair, trying to drag itself closer. Its unhinged jaw snaps dangerously close to your neck, and saliva drools out of its mouth.

Your fingertips finally brush against the cool, rough surface of a brick sticking out of the dirt, and you frantically wrap your hand around it. With a roar, you bring the brick up, bashing it into the side of the spawn's skull hard enough to knock it sideways and off balance. You scramble to take advantage of the opening, pinning it down with your body, and bring the brick above your head and down as hard as you can.

You strike it again and again and again, ignoring the way the blood splatters across your face and coats your fingers. In your bitter frenzy, you don’t stop until you’re out of breath and your arms ache, even when the body beneath you lays still.

Getting to your feet, your chest heaves, and your eyes finally come away from the disfigured form lying by your feet. They dart around until the tiniest flash of silver catches them. You stagger toward it, the brick still held so tightly in your grasp that the bones of your hand jut out abnormally.

Astarion lies stationary, and he does not stir when you drop down beside him, discarding the brick, and take his face in your hands. His usually silver-white hair is matted and weighed down with drying blood, and only patches of his alabaster skin are visible between the blood and grime.

“Astarion.” You shake him vigorously — much harder than you should. You brush back the red-tinged hair sticking to his forehead. The coldness of his skin is a chilling echo of death. “Astarion, please get up.”

Tears trickle from your eyes while you unbuckle the clasps and undo the ties of his armour to get a look at his wounds. Pushing the leather jerkin to the side, you gasp at the puncture wound. You press your hands against it, putting pressure on it to stem the bleeding. His blood oozes between your fingers, relentless in its flow.

You shuck off what remains of your robe quickly, balling it up and pressing that against the wound instead. Can vampires bleed out? You’re not sure, and you’re not interested in finding out.

“Come back to me,” you whisper, your voice hoarse and broken. “I need you. I need you to… to….” The word lodges itself in your throat, refusing to be spoken.

I need you to marry me.

You press your lips against his forehead, the warmth of your breath rippling against the cold of his skin. When you met him, you knew intuitively that the threads of your life would always entwine with the threads of his. Now, the threads seem fragile and prone to snapping.

“We have beaten Gods together,” you rasp in shaky breaths, pulling him into your lap with the last of your remaining strength. “Remember the Goblins? They had been no match for us. The hag? Both times, we took her down, laughing. Bhaal’s chosen? Slayed. Raphael? Slaughtered in his own home, no less. We felled a Netherbrain and lived. We have beaten the odds time and time again together, and we are together. Please, fight. Let us beat the odds once more. Stay with me.”

Could you get him back to Shadowheart? No. You are too far from camp to drag him that far, and your wings are a once-a-day use. All the scrolls and potions of healing you had are somewhere in a bag, likely at the top of the tower, smashed to useless bits.

Your heart stutters in your chest as you look for any signs of life, but you find none. Astarion is technically already dead; you’re not entirely sure what you can look for. He doesn’t have a beating heart, so you cannot check his pulse; he doesn’t need to breathe, so you cannot judge that; his skin is always ice cold. You cannot tell if you’re sitting with the corpse of your soulmate on your lap.

That thought alone threatens to choke you.

“Please,” you plead again. To him. To any God who is listening. To time itself. “Don’t leave me. Not again,” you choke out, your tears spilling and mingling with the blood and mud slathered across his face.

A torrent of anguish washes through you. It feels as if your soul is being wrung dry, and fear once again gnaws at your core. Why have you been hiding from him? Why have you been afraid to be with him? Life looks so different when you are safe and sound, tucked away behind walls. In those moments, the illusion of time seems to stretch on infinitely.

You thought you had so much time to figure things out, but all it takes is one wrong move, one wrong choice, one wrong step, and one lucky swing of a blade, and all that time you thought you had is severed in an instant.

The crunch of peddles beneath boots makes you sigh, squeezing your eyes closed for a moment in exasperation. There is no need to look up and see who it is. You can feel his repulsive stare creep over your skin like waves of endless spiders.

“That was quite the show, sorceress,” he drawls. “Wings to go along with those spectacular scales.”

“Come one step closer,” you growl under your breath in a voice that sounds far too dark to be your own, “and I will kill you.”

Your hand grips the hilt of one of Astarion’s discarded daggers lying in the dirt by your side. There is no way to know how long you were unconscious for or how long Aldous has been watching. Does he know your magic is depleted? Why did he not kill you and abscond with Astarion when he had the chance? Is Aldous so hellbent on vengeance that he would wait until you’re awake so you can witness your death?

Probably. Aldous is many things, but smart or a strategist is definitely not one of them.

“I always did admire your spirit.”

He takes a middling step closer, and your hand tightens on the hilt of the dagger. Your fingers shuffle it into your grip, twisting it so that it fits comfortably and is balanced in your palm.

“I suggest you admire it from afar.” You hiss with serrated contempt.

“Your persistent obstinacy is inspiring,” he sneers with his lips pressed into a thin line. “But stupid, given the predicament you find yourself in.”

“Good Gods, Aldous!” You snap. What is he waiting for? Why hasn’t he attacked? Is he simply revelling in your pain, or is there more to his perceived constraint? The mortal man you knew had very little in the way of self-control. “What do you fucking want? Whatever you’re doing here, get it over with! I tire of your childish games.”

“My master will give you one last chance to take the deal offered. All of this could end here and now.” He crouches down, gesturing toward Astarion and fastening his eyes to you. “I will allow you to leave with your life intact, and you can return to your life free of this strife.”

It does sound nice, doesn’t it? In a perfect world, you could take the deal and never look back. There is a dark stain on your soul that yearns to take the deal, damn Waterdeep to its fate, and let someone else take up the mantle and play hero. You swallow hard as whatever light is left in your soul wars against the taint of dark temptations.

Your eyes fall to Astarion, and you recall the conversation you had with him. He did not think he could take the deal and live with the guilt. When did he become the voice of reason while you lean toward chaos and self-preservation? You bark out a sad laugh at the thought while sweeping your thumb across his cheek.

“In the next life it is, my love,” you whisper.

“How touching.” Aldous feigns sympathy with a scornful, ridiculing pout.

The numbing embrace of promised death caresses your heart, laughing from the shadows upon its winged chariot, ready to take you away. Your brow pinches as your eyes fall on Aldous with a grim defiance.

“It is like you say,” you chime with a voice of taunting, iced honey. “I am pigheaded to a fault. My answer remains the same. There will be no deal.”

“Honourable,” he concludes, “but foolish.”

“The only fool here is you, Aldous.”

He growls, launching himself forward with inhuman speed. His blade glints with an icy blue, reflecting the light of the Sussur tree. Your hand squeezes the hilt of the dagger, and you bring it up.

Gods. 

You thought you had more time.

Thank you to all those who read/like/comment/follow/reblog/etc. I'm forever thankful for the support. I love reading your comments ❤️

Chapters Master List - Shadows of the Past

AO3: Crossposted

If you're interested, I also write fanfic for Ascended Astarion x Spawn Tav - Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Small Notes:

I did some research, and dragon wings are an actual thing for draconic sorcerers! Naturally, we had to give Kamena wings.

I've made a 3D render from a scene in the last chapter of these two. Since I have not included many details of Kamena's appearance in the story, so everyone is free to imagine their own Kamena, I'm going to link it instead of posting it here in case anyone would rather not see it since it is my vision of Kamena.

If you're interested in viewing it, the link is posted at the bottom of this chapter (20) on my AO3 here.

[captainjacklyn]

Hey, yo, you probably saw me on one of your posts. I was wondering if you could do the arcana twilight characters reacting to reader training Precious to destroy sisuris's balls l, I'm so sorry for this post, but I had to. You could skip if you want to. Also, sorry for misspelling sisuris name.

HAHAHAHAGHDJWEH- no worries my friend, there is absolutely no harm done on your part, I'm glad you enjoy that crack shit post and I hope you enjoy reading this one as much as I enjoyed writing it.

character(s) : spica, alpheratz, arcturus, pollux, vega

warning(s) : someone's balls being obliterated, a feral ferret and a vengeful summoner that just wants to see blood.

Spica

Speechless and just straight up lost, man is just looking at us for a good minute before continuing to walk down the aisle like nothing happened.

for reference his face looked like this :

He says nothing, he's just confused and tells himself that he needs coffee thinking he's hallucinating due to all the work he has to do.

don't even bother explaining, Spica will pass out and Precious is going to take that opportunity to destroy.

"Wrong target Precious I'm not letting you hurt rapunzel."

"AHDJEREJHR !"

Alpheratz

Hype man right here, he's literally helping you coach that killing machine to end Sirius.

Precious actually stops trying to rip his wig off and is now accepting him as a friend, sort of.

I love this trio ! A batshit crazy animal, their batshit insane owner and the owner's boyfriend who hates the same person they hate.

Once precious is released into the city to found that sexy gun man, it's over for him.

It crawls it's way through the streets, hissing at anything in it's way until it finds the legs of the enemy..and CRUNCH GOES THE BALLS OF THE ASSHOLE-

*screams in agony*

Arcturus

[Name] I don't think you have to- "HAJSKFBEFUEKR-"

Precious held on to his leg for a week, it didn't wanna let go for even a minute. Had to constantly keep this ginger man in a hospital because the moment he got out he would bleed extensively.

Once it got off of him, you just continued to train your unhinged creature.

Precious is really going balls out for the game I'll tell ya that, we're not just speaking about the nutcracker here we're talking about the sacrifice of future generations as well.

This poor dude is just standing on the sidelines like : you don't have to do this but I still support you because that's really all I can do...

Pollux

Oh he means business.

We got another coach right here- bro is going to ANNIHILATE sirius and whatever is left.

Although he keeps wincing whenever it actually happens, I mean they're both guys he knows just how painful it can get.

It's really terrifying to be honest just witnessing something that violent.

I mean who would expect this :

to act like THIS :

That's pollux trying to hold it, Precious is completely calm and rational with it's beloved owner.

Vega

._.

wut ?

like Spica, he will stand there, but not like Spica, he will remain standing there for a very long time.

Even Precious stops bitting the plastic toy that now looks like it's been shredded, even you stop encouraging your cute psychopath of a beast.

why are you giving it more attention ? HIIIIIISSSSSSSS-

He doesn't give a shit, we all know just how much of a simp he gets when it comes to you.

I love how I skipped the part where Precious tried to lunge at him and remove his eyeballs from his eye sockets.

You luckily managed to avoid that, but now you got an animal and a touch-starved white boy clinging onto you for dear life.

Vega I need to proceed with my ferret's training so could you please ? no. ...You're lucky you're just as adorable as my electric saw. BFUKETGEHTK$#$ PRECIOUS STOP SWEARING-

Have a good day I hope you liked it.

[grimmweepers]

𝐊𝐈𝐖𝐈 𝐗 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 ♡

left was a comm done by @/foreveryeta and the right was made from this picrew. both are after time-skip

˖◛⁺⑅ Name: Kiwi Fruit

˖◛⁺⑅ Pronouns: They/them

˖◛⁺⑅ Devil Fruit: Oto Oto no Mi (Sound Sound Fruit)

˖◛⁺⑅ Occupation: Musician/Combatant in Straw Hat Pirates

˖◛⁺⑅ Trivia: Joins the crew with Brook in Thriller Bark, has violin trauma (the scar on their face is from when a violin string snapped), always has to replace their guitar because they use it as a weapon, loves crop tops, they were so roughed up in Thriller Bark that when the crew found Kiwi, they thought Kiwi was a zombie and started screaming, their epithet is "Virtuoso Kiwi" because they can play just about anything

𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐚𝐧 𝐎𝐂 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩?

One Piece is such a fun and whimsical little universe that I just wanted to get extra creative with my character. Most of my ocs are, in one way or another, an extension of myself so technically it can still be a self-ship! (Well that’s what I tell myself).

𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐊𝐢𝐰𝐢 (+ 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐢):

Kiwi is very much a golden retriever— goofy, laid back, and always unapologetically themselves. They’re the type to crack a joke if things start feeling bleak and knows exactly how to lighten the mood. A gym bro at their core, Kiwi is also musically gifted, with their favourite instrument weapon being the guitar.

If for some reason they don’t like you, their easy going vibe can get real petty, real quick. It’s usually in the most ridiculous and harmless ways. As my friend once said, Kiwi is the type to send hate mail to anyone who has done you wrong. Nothing threatening but just bizarre.

When it comes to Nami, Kiwi is completely and utterly in love with her. Shark teeth and all. They adore her.

One of their favourite things to do together that isn’t sexual is just lounging around in the other’s lap, braiding or playing with each other’s hair. The crew can always tell if Nami’s just worked on Kiwi’s hair if it looks neater than usual (I headcannon their natural hair to be untamed and unruly).

They are slow burn, and don’t really get together until after time-skip. Nami fell first but Kiwi definitely fell harder. Nami tried to brush off her feelings at first but she couldn’t shake how Kiwi’s warmth kept pulling her in. What really messed with her head was not knowing if Kiwi’s extra kindness was just them being friendly like they are with everyone else or something more. Meanwhile, Kiwi was just as confused, thinking their feelings for Nami was completely platonic until they started noticing how their heart would race and their stomach would flip whenever she was around.

𝐊𝐢𝐰𝐢 + 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐰:

(Won’t be mentioning everyone)

Sick and tired of constantly unga-bunga smashing their guitars in battle, Franky eventually makes Kiwi a guitar that doubles as a weapon (the one in the comm).

Kiwi doesn’t feel jealous when Sanji simps over Nami. Tbh they kind of just go, “Yeah, I get it” and moves on. However, any time Sanji calls Zoro ‘mosshead’, Kiwi is usually in the back like, “Hey man, what the hell…”

Zoro and Kiwi bicker. A lot of push-up contests. But they’re more similar than they think. These two get called ‘two peas in a pod’ which makes it funnier because they’re both green.

Kiwi was like Robin’s feral dog in the beginning. Settling into the crew and getting to know everyone was a little chaotic because they literally had nothing to their name except the clothes on their back and a talking skeleton as a friend.

Brook is Kiwi’s first and proper friend. I won’t go into their lore right now but they feel as though they are indebted to Brook. Kiwi might not be alive because of him. They often duet for the crew.

𝐊𝐢𝐰𝐢𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐞:

(threatening Brook)

I reached my photo limit so I can’t show what pre-time skip Kiwi would have looked like hic hic

dividers by dollywons

[kiraman]

I AM ON MY KNEES SCREAMING ALL OVER THIS VID goodness me!! it takes a lot of NERVE to stare into someone BURSTING like a mf firework with rage and beg “COOL IT COOL IT COOL IT”

he is so SLEEK. so focused, ruthless, relentless, an agent of his own will, he can already see the finish line and nothing’s waiting for him there but death but he’s already dead anyway, he’s got nothing to lose. LIKE.

i can’t explaing how much I LOVE writing modern mizu as yakuza-born vengeful, furious, tormented orphan unleashed like a raging inferno upon the world, hungered for revenge!!!!! this is my fav AU and i am OBSESSED

he is the boogeyman? mizu is the onryo. he kills for what’s been violently taken from him? so does SHE and she’s unstoppable, uncompromising, ferocious, unhinged I AM RAMBLING but some parts of my story just have me so floored because I frantically, fiendishly adore this modern version of Mizu SO BAD

“One of the russians asks him incredulously if he’s got a woman stashed away somewhere. ’‘probably in a freezer” Vladmir, the driver, comments later. Mizu does not answer. She does not smile. Apathetically she slowly dons her leather jacket, readjusts her shades on her nose. In the morning, a man washes up on the banks of the river. Vladmir does not show up at work.

LIKE SHE. SHE!!!

and when she cries out in desperation, says “Mizu please. Fuck, please—” Mizu stills the hand between her legs to complete motionlessness, growls. “No— ride my hand.” And she does, god, she does, she’s a wild thing on her lap, feral with desire; she clutches at her shoulders and rolls her hips violently back and forth, lets her fingers sink inside her again and again, snapping her hips forward, hungered for more. Mizu keeps her hand achingly still, tightly pressed against her pussy, but she, too, is completely gone, hanging on by a thread; she watches her ride her hand, feels her walls spasm around her fingers, feels them quiver, god she’s burning from the inside out, taking her in again and again, she’s barely lifting her hips off of her now, keeps her fingers buried so deep inside her, Mizu thinks nothing will ever be able to fill her like her fingers have,

LIKE BITCH. why are you so FERAL.

She looks like an electrical storm waiting to happen. There is thunder in the way she cracks her bones, slow, precise, everything about her is so, dark and hungered, even the way she looks at you has teeth. She wonders who Smoke really is at 4 a.m. when the rest of the world is sleeping. She’s never seen her fall asleep, just once, back in that room, overtaken by fever…

listen writing this chapter is absolutely DEMOLISHING me. I am trying so so hard to find the right words and ways to make you all understand how INSANE she is, trying so hard to somehow cross all the wires. all of them. every wire in her very human damaged beyond repair (huh) brain—rage and fury, love, desire, sex, hatred, hunger, repulsion, shame, pragmatism and choice; affection and how she LOATHES it because she is so unworthy she doesn't know what to do with it , her anger that eats her up right down to her bones, pride, betrayal, her selfishness. her lies. all of them, every single one—make it snarl up like a bunch of her lover’s necklaces left on top of her dresser before she leaves her.

She rips right through the night like a bullet, fills her hands with blood. when she comes back she sits soaked in blood that is not her own on the floor and slowly, perfectly, unerringly unpicks those necklaces left on her dresser, so that Geraldine can wear them again. She does not react when she thanks her but eats her out like she is starving for it and when she tries to return the favour Mizu shrugs her off and takes the COLDEST iciest shower possible. when she leaves, she does not look back. BYE this girl is insane I love her. Mizu in her dapper suit, shades on, neon light glinting off its pristine skeleton, that sleek curling strand of her hair falling into her eye, sprawled out, legs open, the two top buttons of her shirt undone and a perpetual cold snarl on her mouth which is very sweet and sometimes slick with lipstick.... PEACE OUT

[augment-techs]

A+ Parenting (not sarcastic), Skull/Billy

"The Black Mambaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa--" "Spike, honey," Billy snorted, still recording on his phone as the little five year old carried on elongating the 'a' with intent, "Breathe." Spike puffed out a breath, air skittering across his untamed bangs, but did as he was told. He inhaled deeply enough that his tiny chest puffed up, and then started in on the 'a' like there was no pause at all.

Skull looked disconcerted, but wasn't going to let that spoil his son's fun as his little changeling continued waving the hems of the black longcoat he'd somehow fenagled off of a mannequin from the women's section of the department store and scuttled the thing onto Skull's bony figure with the full intent of getting him or Billy to buy it. And probably wear it forever. Which was not entirely out of the question. Even if the long black garb looked like a cross between a traditional nun's habit and a not especially accurate version of Little Red Riding Hood's cloak, it did have a comfortable hood and some pretty big pockets. Both things rather lacking in his current wardrobe since signing a record deal and his stupid agent kept having his assistant buy clothes that were obnoxiously revealing and didn't have even the most basic of comforting amenities. He missed being a little bit scary looking as opposed to "absolute eye candy; perfect for the runway" that he'd been forced into as of late. And apparently Billy and Spike missed it too, as Billy encouraged Spike to go find more clothes, "So Da can look pretty and feel comfy when he has to go to work next week." The little guy with the black faux feather jacket that made him look like Big Bird's foundling, complete with sparkly blue leggings and bright orange Uggs that Kimberly had looked ready to toss herself into the sun the first time she saw them, blinked for a moment. He held onto Skull's bony leg like he was the featured jungle gym of his life (not untrue) and looked up, up, up to meet eyes that were more like ocean stones than the forest colors Spike had, "Anything, Da?" Face melting into the softness and loving devotion that Billy had been in love with since (forever) they were sixteen and the genius got his head out of his ass, Skull swooped down and picked Spike up like the opening scene from the Lion King; spinning the both of them around in a circle so Spike could get a good aerial view of the store. Spike giggling through the spins and Billy glowing in adoration for the both of them. "Anything, baby. Just call if you need help getting it off the rack or mannequin, okay?" "Okay!" And then he was off, careening around and through the displays like a man on a mission. "A navy seal could not hope to have that kind of focus." "Thank goodness he's on our side, eh?" "Ohhhhh yes," Billy agreed wholeheartedly, winding down the last minutes left on his recording to trail Eugene's visage from head to toe. The almost feral want in his eyes, behind glasses that did nothing to diminish their effect on his target, had Eugene radiating red all the way up to his ears, arms folding across his middle and face screwing up as Billy grinned wider. Billy finally clicked his cellphone closed and wrapped an arm around Eugene, pulling him in for a sweet brush of lips and a little tongue action. (Never mind the bursts of screams from sales employees and some old ladies that found Spike hanging from a shelf to get at a pair of earrings or blouses he thought would be perfect for his mission. They were actually quite used to that after five years.)

[stargirlfics]

hey angel 💌 here’s a smutty prompt for you to ponder on and hopefully elaborate 👀😏? Let’s set the scene, yes?

I’d like to think that Geralt has a major corruption kink with hints of crying in it.

You’re someone that Geralt has had his eyes on for a while now and you’ve partially noticed but more so just pretty oblivious, but you’re attracted to him as well! Some would say you two are acquaintances/ friends, and you hang out from time to time.

One night after a few drinks at the pub, you indulge Geralt in your smutty, imaginary festivities of what you want someone to do to you, hoping he’d understand, right? Yes and no. It all leads to Geralt convincing you and promising you that he can do everything you so nastily desire- he can be that someone to make you cum over and over and over because it’s what you deserve.

No later than that, you’re on your hands and knees on his bed as he’s taking you from behind. He’s absolutely feral while softly kissing and marking your body. Fucking you so good because this is what he’s dreamed about with you. He absolutely adores you but he also has those dreams of giving you the best dick of your life.

His hands are everywhere, grabbing at all the fleshy parts of your ass, squeezing your tits, fiddling with your nipples, and bruising your hips as he’s pounding into you for dear life and this is all you hear (besides your own wetness):

“So fucking tight, petal”

“You needed this, yeah? Needed someone to stretch you out so good you can barely speak”

“You’re doing so good for me, princess, taking me so wonderfully”

“You look so pretty when you cry, baby doll, keep it coming, makes me wanna fuck you better because I know it’s good”

“c’mon, don’t stop being my good girl, good girls will let me keep fucking their pretty little pussy till there’s nothing left, and you wouldn’t want to disappoint me, right?”

of course you don’t. So for that night further, you just let Geralt have his way with you. He’s fucked you from behind, on your side, and on top to finish off the night because he wants to see your blown out eyes as he’s emptying his seed deep within you, actively marking you as his and no one else’s…. It’s safe to say you’re not going anywhere 🥵🥰

Hope you enjoyed…. 😈

Ma’am your mind!!! As always! Iconic bc 👀 I totally can see this!

There’s just something about seeing you falling apart by his doing that makes this arrangement such a win for the both of you

You’re getting off on how he’s completely destroying you and he’s getting off on corrupting such a sweet petal like yourself

And you know this would go on for hours

Geralt has stamina and strength and he’s so dangerous to play with bc he’ll give you everything he’s got and then some

Even when it’s overstimulating you can’t help but want more and more and for him to never pull out of you ever

Djskksksks like Genie I’m gonna lose my mind over this ahhhh!

The simultaneous mocking and praise for when you’re clawing at the sheets barely able to handle any more but letting him keep fucking you and it makes the tears fall even more

You’re gonna spend several days recovering but even then you want more of what he and only he can give because now you know that there’s so many fantasies you can explore with him!

He knows he’s got you hooked!

EXCUSE ME WHILE I SCREAM! Thank you for sending this ahhhh! This was hot as hell and I love you soooo much! 💌

[robininthelabyrinth]

Nie Huaisang is the cutest thing monsters have ever seen, they can be yao dragons or giant turtles one look at nhs and they want to feed hug or kidnapt him nmj trainning involved recovering his baby brother from every monsters nest around qinge

ao3

“I’m sorry,” Nie Mingjue said, his teeth gritted together and his arms shaking from the strain of holding Baxia up. “He’s mine.”

The massive tiger glared down at him over Baxia’s blade, currently stuck in its teeth, and growled something.

“I know,” Nie Mingjue said. His legs were shaking now, too. “I know, trust me, I know! I’m human, he’s – young, yes, yes, I know. But he’s my little brother! I’m not giving him up!”

The tiger spat out the blade, knocking Nie Mingjue backwards on his ass.

“And when you change your mind?” the tiger demanded. “Will you abandon him then?”

“No!” Nie Mingjue exclaimed. “Never! He’s my brother!”

“Mark your words,” the tiger said ominously. “Or else.”

It turned and stalked off, its tail waving arrogantly in the air, until its towering white form disappeared into the distance.

Nie Mingjue sighed in relief. “Huaisang?” he called, and a small head popped out of the nest the tiger had started building, blinking owlishly at him. “Come on, come to da-ge. It’s time to go home.”

“But Master Tiger said we were going to play…”

“Yes, well, he wanted to play for too long,” Nie Mingjue said. “Only a few centuries, give or take. Let’s go.”

-

It started back when Nie Huaisang was born.

No, more accurately, it started when Nie Mingjue’s father fell in love with someone he probably oughtn’t have, which according to the sect was not a terribly uncommon problem for him to have, and decided to bring home a bride.

Nie Mingjue could still remember the first time he’d seen the Second Madame Nie. They’d all been lined up to greet her, all the sect and close members of the clan in rows according to rank, Nie Mingjue fidgeting in the inside of the house proper in his first tangle with formal clothing outside of the discussion conferences. She had come sweeping in with her head held as high as a princess, seductive and bewitching.

Every movement had been perfect, the eyes of all the men fogging over in lust and the women in admiration – or visa versa, depending on their personal preferences – and a wicked smile had lit up her face when she had stepped across the threshold, officially becoming the sect leader’s wife, and maybe everything would have gone along with whatever plan she’d had back then if she hadn’t next seen him.

“Oh, look at you,” she exclaimed, rushing over to pinch Nie Mingjue’s cheeks between her hands. “What a delectable little morsel you are!”

“Uh,” Nie Mingjue said, staring up at her with big round somewhat-worried eyes.

“You charming little dumpling,” she said. “You adorable mouthful of meat! Spoonful of egg yolk!”

Nie Mingjue cast his eyes around to see if anyone would be willing to help him.

“My eldest son,” Nie Mingjue’s father said, not without pride – albeit perhaps a puzzled sort of pride. “He’s probably just about old enough to come to the forecourt, if you don’t want him to live with you –”

“Oh no,” she said. “He’s definitely living with me.”

And so she stayed, and Nie Mingjue stayed with her, and she doted on him in a way he found pleasant if mildly disconcerting. Within a year, she was pregnant, and irritated with it; six months after that, she was round and complaining, even though Nie Mingjue solemnly assured her that she was as beautiful as ever.

“This is your fault, you know,” she told him, and he blinked at her. “It is! Don’t get me wrong, your father’s a charming bull when he wants to be, and of course he fucks like a champion stud, but I stayed here for you, my little cabbage roll, my charming chunk of liver.”

She patted her belly.

“That means this here is all because of you. So you’d better take responsibility!”

Nie Mingjue considered the issue for a little. The argument seemed plausible, so he raised his hands and put them on her rounded stomach. “I will take care and watch over him for all my life,” he vowed, and the baby inside kicked his hand in response, sealing the pact.

“Oh you are so cute,” she said, pressing her hands to her cheeks. “My darling pork bun! My little fish cake! I could eat you right up, if only you were just a little bit older!”

When Nie Huaisang was born, she disappeared in a welter of blood, but Nie Mingjue’s oath remained.

The trouble started after that.

-

“You can’t raise a cub like that properly,” the winged lion argued, bating its wings as if that would help it make its point better.

Nie Mingjue glared at him. “Watch me!”

“It’s for your own good, little human. He needs his own kind –”

“I’m not listening to a treasure-seeker!”

The lion scowled at him. “I’ll have you know that most humans think I’m good luck!”

“You’re not trying to steal most humans’ little brothers, are you?!”

The winged lion sighed, a deep sound, so very noble and long-suffering that Nie Mingjue couldn’t resist the urge to lift his foot and kick the lion right in the paw.

“Brat!”

“Don’t care!” he shouted. “You leave my brother alone! He’s my responsibility, not yours! Piss off!”

“You can’t even feed him properly -”

“I’ll figure it out!” Nie Mingjue bared his teeth and wished he was old enough for a saber.

“You little…fine. Fine! I’ll bring you a book on how to feed a huli jing kit, and you keep to it, you hear me?”

“I will,” Nie Mingjue said. “But don’t you even think of taking him away!”

“On your own head be it,” the winged lion grumbled. “Not everyone’s as understanding as me.”

-

“Why are you wet?” Nie Mingjue’s father asked him.

“Water monkeys,” Nie Mingjue said shortly. “There was a nest.”

“Water monkeys? Don’t they normally stay away from people…? Or, I suppose, were these ones feral?”

“Thieves.”

“Ah. Well, nothing to be done about it, I suppose…bad luck for you to run into them here, of all places. But good experience! How many people your age can say that they fought water monkeys?”

“Can we go home?” Nie Mingjue asked, a little plaintively, and rubbed his nose. “How much can you really have to say to the Jiang sect, anyway?”

His father chuckled. “More than either of us would like, unfortunately. But if you’ve had enough of water, which no one can blame you for, maybe you and Huaisang can go shopping in the pier instead?”

That would work, Nie Mingjue thought, and nodded happily.

(Sect Leader Jiang was extremely embarrassed about the ghostly rats in the night-market – he claimed they’d never seen neither nose nor tail of them before the Nie brothers had accidentally tripped over their trap and had to flee from the swarm...)

-

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Nie-er-gongzi,” the white-clad cultivator from the mountain said, smiling broadly and saluting deeply.

Xiao Xingchen had made himself famous during his first half-dozen night-hunts alone for his extraordinary grace, bearing and strength, and he said he was on a mission to help the world. He was beautiful, virtuous, and matched each ideal of gentlemanly arts.

Sects throughout the cultivation world were drooling at the thought of enticing him to join them, fighting for the opportunity to put in a good word with him.

Not all sects.

Nie Mingjue stepped forward, purposely putting Nie Huaisang behind him.

“Don’t you even think about it,” he said, hand on the hilt of his saber. “Buzz off, birdbrain.”

Xiao Xingchen might wear white, but Nie Mingjue knew a zhuque chick when he saw one.

-

“I found something for my aviary, da-ge!” Nie Huaisang, seven years old and delighted with his clumsy autonomy, announced.

Nie Mingjue, less than a full year into his new role as sect leader, rubbed his eyes. “Oh?” he asked, only somewhat wanting to scream endlessly into the void, which was better than usual. “That’s nice, Huaisang…”

“Come look! It’s so pretty!”

“I’m a bit busy –”

“But da-ge!”

Nie Mingjue sighed and got up, following Nie Huaisang to the door only to come to a complete stop.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” he said to the fenghuang currently pretending to be a rooster in a cage, as if anyone would actually mistake phoenix flames for regular feathers. “Do you have no dignity left?!”

-

“You can’t adopt the bashe,” Nie Mingjue said to Nie Huaisang, who pouted. “It eats elephants; we’d be broke within three months.”

He turned to the giant python.

“You can’t adopt Huaisang,” he said. “I will literally murder you.”

-

“Why can’t I go watch the eclipse?” Nie Huaisang complained. “Everyone else is going!”

“I’m not risking a tiangou.”

“The…dog that eats the sun? Really, da-ge, is that even real?”

“You know what,” Nie Mingjue said, “you’re grounded just for saying that.”

Nie Huaisang grinned.

-

“Maybe I want to go and live among the qilin!” Nie Huaisang screamed, fourteen and hormonal about it.

“Well you don’t get a choice!” Nie Mingjue bellowed back.

“You’re not my father! I don’t have to listen to what you say!”

“I’m your fucking sect leader and yes you do!”

“I hate you!”

“I don’t care if you hate me! You still aren’t going to go live in a field with some magic pointy deer and that’s final!”

The qilin herd wisely chose to withdraw.

-

“Da-ge,” Jin Guangyao hissed, and Nie Mingjue looked up from his work at him – he hadn’t heard Meng Yao this upset since he’d shoved him into a closet to get him out of way during the whole dangkang boar hunt debacle. “Da-ge, there’s a dragon outside.”

“Again?” Nie Mingjue said, standing up to stretch and feeling oddly unbalanced. They’d just finished another session with the song of Clarity, so he really shouldn’t be feeling like this; he would need to write to Lan Xichen again about his fears that the treatment really wasn’t working. Lan Xichen would probably only say to give it more time, another chance, but still… “Let me go talk to them. Dragons are the worst.”

“No, da-ge, you don’t understand,” Jin Guangyao said. “It’s not a water-serpent or – or even a jiaolong – it’s a dragon.”

“A flood-dragon is a type of dragon,” Nie Mingjue said, following Jin Guangyao outside. “You know that, it’s in the name, what’s the big – oh, I see. It’s a celestial dragon.”

Jin Guangyao glared at him with an expression suggesting that he was under-reacting, but Nie Mingjue really didn’t have the capacity in him to reach with appropriate fervor at the moment. He and Nie Huaisang had been fighting a lot recently, every little thing escalating into a giant argument, and he was no longer sure if he was doing the right thing in trying to force Nie Huaisang onto the path of his ancestors. After all, unlike Nie Mingjue, Nie Huaisang had – somewhat different ancestors, on his maternal side.

And, he supposed, Nie Huaisang was old enough to decide otherwise, if he truly wished…

Still, Nie Mingjue was as stubborn as a mule and had no intention of giving up his baby brother without a fight, so he braced himself and went over to the frankly massive creature draped over the entrance gateway and much of the training yard that the entirety of the Nie sect was doing its utmost best to pretend that they weren’t seeing.

Nie Huaisang was sitting on the thing’s five claws – an imperial celestial dragon, apparently – because of course he was.

“Excuse me,” Nie Mingjue called up to the dragon, which turned its head to regard him, an entire production that took nearly a quarter ké to accomplish. “The brat there is mine, please return him.”

“Da-ge!” Jin Guangyao hissed again, but Nie Mingjue waved him away.

“You have raised him well,” the dragon said, which was…a good deal nicer than most of these interactions usually went.

“…thanks?” Nie Mingjue said suspiciously, ignoring Jin Guangyao’s splutters of “It talks?!” “I think?”

“I have chosen to grant you a boon,” the dragon announced.

“…right,” Nie Mingjue said. “If this ‘boon’ is that you’ll take him off my hands, I’m afraid I’m going to have to refuse. He may be trouble, but he’s still my brother.”

“Da-ge!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed, indignant. “Don’t be rude. I asked him for this!”

Nie Mingjue frowned at him, unable to resist the feeling of hurt even though he’d already told himself to expect something like this. “…you want to leave?”

“No, da-ge, don’t be ridiculous. I asked him to improve your health!”

Ah.

“Huaisang –” he started to say.

“Don’t you ‘Huaisang’ me!” his little brother shouted. “I know you’re trying to hide it, but it’s getting worse, isn’t it? San-ge told me so! He said I should get ready!”

Nie Mingjue made a mental note to strangle Jin Guangyao, who had no right to say something like that to Nie Huaisang even if maybe it wasn’t the worst idea in the world to emotionally prepare Nie Huaisang for the upcoming bereavement and inheritance he would need to face.

“Anyway, he said to get ready, so I did!”

“You can’t just ask a divine dragon to fix me, Huaisang. That’s not how this works.”

“Uh, it totally does, and I did, and he agreed. So there!”

Nie Mingjue crossed his arms and glared. “And what did he want in return?”

“The boon is a reward for your past merit, not a trade for the deeds of the future,” the dragon said, not even slightly hiding how its whiskers were shaking with suppressed laughter. “You have travelled a difficult road, and borne the weight of it well. And besides…”

“Besides?”

“If you were to die, he would undoubtedly petition the creatures of the underworld to return you.”

“Well, fuck,” Nie Mingjue said, having not considered that. “Fine. Whatever. Heal me and I’ll try to keep an eye on my health going forward.”

Maybe more Clarity? He could try to free up his schedule, get in a few more sessions…

“I just give up,” Jin Guangyao said behind him. “I just fucking give up.”

Nie Mingjue, assuming that he was talking about Nie Huaisang’s nonsense, agreed whole-heartedly.

[impala1967dwinchester]

Kinktober- Day 3: Jared Padalecki- Lord

Pairing: Jared P. x Fem!Reader

Pov: 3rd pov

Warnings: Sub/Dom Nature; teasing; kissing; heated making out session; love drunk; anniversary; sex; 18+; Smut: P in V; protection used;

Summary: After a long day put for their anniversary Jared shows his loving girl just how much adores her body.

A/n-@firefly-graphics for dividers

WC-572

Main Master List//Jared P. Master List// Kinktober 2021 Master List

He always had things for his doms body. Loving the way her soft skin felt under his callused hands. The way her shampoo would glide delicately through the air and into his senses.

It took him months to finally say something to her about the way whenever she’d walk past he couldn’t get the image of her ass out of his mind.

The day it happened was amazing for both of them. But it only ever got better, now on their fourth wedding anniversary, Jared had something amazing planned for his dom.

He knew how much Y/n loved it when he’d bend down to his knees and gracefully eat her out until she was grabbing and scrapping his now short hairs. He also knew just how much she loved being the only one he submitted to.

On the outside, Jared Padalecki was a strong lumberjack sort of man. Not a single bone in his body screamed Sub to the outside community, but deep inside and behind the doors of their house. Jared turned into the most submissively beautiful person in Y/ns eyes.

He'd beg, and plead just to be able to put his lips on hers. While she made it her mission to make sure he was a begging mess by the time she was time with him almost every night.

Tonight though was different. A fourth anniversary said a lot about a couple. Their endurance to be together, their love for each other was a given, but the way they took care of each other was even better.

Y/n had never gotten over the fact that she had gotten herself the most perfect submissive. He wasn't clingy, but he wasn't distant. He loved everything about her, always complimented her, and nearly never left her alone.

The nights they had in bed Y/n sometimes couldn't recall the next morning. The way he'd sit between her thighs, and let her cry for hours. Just taking her in, hours turned into mornings. It was the best way to get a wake up call.

As Jared kneel down between Y/ns wide thighs. He whispered sweet nothings into her skin, all while nipping at the gentle skin in her inner thighs. Hands rubbing up and down her sides playing gently with her ass.

“Have I ever told you how pretty your pussy is?” He asked her. Barely able to get words out she mumbled a response.

“What about how great.

He’d start licking little stripes down her lips.

Your. Pussy. Taste.” Always such a tease. His dom enjoyed it though, loved to see him worship her. When Jared would slip into her, god she was done for. The rough nights and soft thrusts were unrivaled by any other.

His hands pulling hard down on her hair, while her nails dig into his tanned back. All while Jared would stick his tongue so far deep into Y/n mouth that she sometimes forgot to breathe.

She and Jared had fallen for their words, for their passion for each other, but the moment they first got into bed together. They both knew that neither one of them were going any where anytime soon.

“Does my baby like it when I squeeze her tits like this?” He’d ask her before kissing her deeply. Something had caused this man to go feral when he was around her. She was his whole world regardless of the rest of the whole damn world.

Stanford Tag List: @wonderfulworldofwinchester//@samsgirl93//@stoneyggirl2//@rach-12//@kazsrm67//@ijustlearnedtolove-beep-bop-boop//@mrspeacem1nusone//@hobby27//

Kinktober Tag List: @dilfloverr//@kvitka97//@rach-12//@winchestersbitch-dm

Completed on 10/03/2021

Posted on; 10/06/2021

[drakenology]

Game Over 👾 - Kenma Kozume

gamer!kenma x gamer!reader

summary: kenma works at gamestop and this cutie came in to buy a new game. wonder if she’s single..

author’s note: kenma simps come get yall juice 🥵! we love a gamer boy. hope yall like dis. 🥴

warnings: smut (obviously), softdom!kenma, hair pulling, fluffy stuff, shitty rom-coms and kuroo being a hype man.

Slow days at GameStop were the worst. No one comes in anymore; who the hell still buys disks when you can buy all your games digitally now anyways? Still, it was easy money and something to do over the summer other than sit around and binge play League of Legends all day.

Kenma sighed as he pretended to look busy in front of the manager by fixing the poster wall for the eighth time all shift, mundanity floating through the store as three customers left after just leisurely looking around.

As Kenma’s restocking the playstation game wall he feels a tap on his shoulder.

“Um, excuse me do you work here?” A feminine voice asked.

“No. I just wear this fucking uniform shirt because I like it.” Kenma thought to himself before turning his head to face what was possibly the cutest girl he’s ever seen.

Kenma’s not really used to seeing too many girls in the store when he worked so he was a little shocked. But god she was pretty. She was wearing red; one of his favorite colors with these jeans that hugged her legs and thighs so nice he almost choked on his tongue before speaking.

“Uh.. yeah. How can I help you?” He finally responded.

“Hi! Um, I just wanted to know where I can find Fallout 4 for xbox? I’ve been looking everywhere for it and I can’t find it.” She sung. Her voice was like a symphony of everything good in the world. Kenma started to wonder what she’d sound like underneath him while he-

“Yeah. I’ll show you, I had to move them for a while so I could make room for newer games.” Kenma said, leading her towards the wall with all the xbox games were. He reached up high and grabbed the game off rhe top shelf and handed it to her with a meek smile.

“Thanks! I see you’re the only one working so I’ll look around and let you know when I’m ready to checkout.” She said smiling back. Kenma nodded and continued his work slowly so he could stare at her through the shelfs and hangers around the store.

The way she picked up things as she looked at them was adorable; her nose scrunching up as she giggled at the pikachu plushies. Kenma blushed as he watched her look around the store as if it were her first time visiting. She gamed, so it’s not like she’s never been in a gamestop before. But the way she looked at things she liked with fresh eyes was something to ponder on. He had to know her; at least her name.

Anyone who knew Kenma would know he’s not the type to go oogling at some girl and ask for her number, he’s hopelessly shy. But he couldn’t risk not seeing this girl again. As he walked to the counter, he gulped up his reluctance and took a deep breath.

“Hey. Ready when you are.” He said, getting the girl’s attention. She smiled and walked over with her game and a pikachu plushie; of course. She’s so fucking cute.

“Heh. Pikachu?” He teased, hoping he didn’t offend her. She simply laughed and put it on the counter for him to ring up.

“What can I say? I’m 12.” She said, sticking out her tongue with a smirk. Fuck. Kenma gulped again, pathetically blushing right in front of her and hoping she didn’t notice the tint of his cheeks turn bright red. He grabbed her stuff and rang it up, bagging it all nice for her before handing the bag to her.

“Want a receipt?” Kenma asked. She nodded, standing at the counter as she watched him print it out. Shit. The exchange was almost over and he hasn’t even asked her name yet. He had to before it was too late.

“Hey uh.. c-can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” Kenma said, looking down at the screen and not into her gorgeous eyes.

“Yeah? What’s wrong, sir?��� She asked. Fuck. Sir? Really? What’s she trying to do?

“What’s your name?”

“Y/N, why?”

“I-I wanted to know if I could have your number? And like maybe take you out- o-only if you want to I’m not-“

She laughed, and wrote her name and number on the back of the receipt and handed it back to him.

“Call me. I’d love to go out with you. You seem cool.” Y/N said. She squinted her eyes a little to read Kenma’s name tag.

“Ken..ma? Right? I’ll see you around, Kenma.”

And so began his helpless fall for her.

“Yo! Kenma, how’s it going with Y/N? Been a couple months now, right?” Kuroo asked over the discord server. Kenma blushed and looked down at his phone to see that you texted him.

“We’re good. She’s actually coming over in a bit so this will be my last game.” He said, smiling a little at your sweet message.

“Hey, Kenny! I’m on my way over. I’m raiding your kitchen btw I’m hungry 🤤 .”

“Ooooh, Kenma’s ‘bout to get some pussssayyy!” Kuroo teased. Kenma cringed and covered his flustered face as if anyone could see him.

“Shut up. Sh-she and I are taking it slow. I dunno if we’ll even go there today. None of your business anyways, perv!” Kenma explained, nervous about you coming over for the first time like ever.

You two had been on a few dates now, he had even met your roommate and your other friends. You two got so close after that day you had met at the GameStop and he was so grateful he came to work that day instead of calling out to binge play videogames. Kuroo erupted in furious laughter and continued his games with Kenma, enthused about him about finally getting some.

“Gotta hand it to you man, you managed to get yourself a hottie. And a gamer at that. I’m jealous.” Kuroo added, Kenma rolling his eyes.

He knew it too though. Kenma wasn’t necessarily a ladies man so it was a mystery what drew you to him. Still, he’s grateful he could spend his time with you even if you guys weren’t set in stone just yet.

Just as the game wrapped up, he received a call from his new favorite person.

“Hey, Kenma. I’m outside! Lemme in!” You giggle into the phone before the front door flung open, Kenma scooping you into his arms.

“Hey, you. Missed you.” He said into your hair. You smile and hug him back, following his lead inside. His little apartment was so cozy, gamer memorabilia all over the place as it screamed “Kenma”. It was so him. You smile and walk into his bedroom, thinking nothing of it as you gawk at his gaming setup.

“Woah. Didn’t know working at gamestop could get you a $1,000 set up!” You exclaim. Kenma laughed.

“Oh, I guess I didn’t tell you. I game professionally. GameStop is just another way for me to be close to videogames. Discounts are nice too.” He explained.

“So you’re a streamer?”

“Yup. You should watch me sometime. I-If you want.” Kenma said flustered. You smile and hook your arms around his neck and give him a peck on the nose.

You two spent most of the day talking about games and the lastest on manga you were both reading. Everytime you talked to him, he gave you something new to read and you’d talk about it next time you talked about it together.

Soon, you two were cuddling and watching shitty rom-coms; making fun of them became your favorite past time. You chuckle as the female protagonist says something completely cheesy about loving her love interest forever and gag at the kissing scene, Kenma covering his face in second hand embarrassment.

Then he took one look at you, snuggled up against him with your ass poking out against his groin. You were the little spoon, his arms around your waist as you look up at him from time to time to make a comment on the movie. Kenma was in love. But he had no idea how to tell you without scaring you off. What if it’s too soon? What if she doesn’t feel the same?

A cheesy sex scene displayed on the T.V causing you to get a little hot. Sure it was pretty lame but the thought of having sex right now; especially cuddled up with a cute boy, wasn’t too bad of an idea. Kenma’s sweating a little too, his dick growing hard as he realized the girl he really liked was laying in bed with him while watching borderline porn together; his face red as tomatos.

“Shit, I hope she doesn’t feel my dick poking against her. Fuck, she’s just so pretty.. I just wanna-“

“K-Kenma..?” You breath out, wet and face full of embarrassment.

“Yeah?” He said.

“I-I uh.. I don’t know how to say this but.. I’m h-horny.” You whisper as if someone else was in the room other than you two.

“A-Are you really?” Kenma asked, his dick growing more at the thought of how wet you were under your sweatpants, how hard and perky your nipples were under your bra. Fuck, he had to have you.

“Yeah.. I don’t know why but this scene is.. kinda turning me on.” You said, turning to face him to see his face bright red and eyes full of lust. You gulp, just as hungry as he is.

“Me too.” He said, staring down at your plump lips.

“Yeah?” You ask with seduction coating your tongue unintentionally, licking your lips as you bit down lightly as you looked up at him.

“Yeah.”

Kenma inched closer to your face, you following his lead as your lips finally met; your first kiss. The kiss was heavy, hands exploring and groping each other as you both moan into the kiss.

Clothes are shed and thrown to the side of the bed, Kenma drinking in the sight of your half naked body and savoring it. He pulled you back into the kiss, his tongue searching your mouth as you received him eagerly. You were making out so heavily, foreplay almost wasn’t even needed with how wet you got from his touch and kiss. You became so needy for him, the spot between your legs aching as your heart skipped eight beats.

“Kenma I-“ you said breaking the kiss, interrupted by a feral Kenma.

“No. I-I wanna take my time with you. Don’t rush.” You nod, Kenma grabbing your chin to pull you up to kiss him again.

You gasp, his hands a little cold as he touched your breasts. He groped and squeezed them, playing with your nipples as your squirm to gain friction in your panties.

You’re whining against Kenma’s mouth, desperate for him to touch you where you needed him most. As Kenma pulled away, he took a brief moment to look down at your body as he climbed on top of you.

“You’re so pretty.” He gushed, causing you to giggle and reach up to move his hair from his face.

“You too. U-Uh I mean, you’re handsome.” You said weakly, aching for something more than just kissing. He smirked at you, like a switch went off in his mind. He wasn’t the sweet and shy Kenma he was a second ago, feral lust changing his demeanor as he took a nipple into his mouth. You moan, your breath shaky as he ghosts his fingers over your panties; him feeling a wet spot on them as he hummed.

“You’re so wet, angel.” He moaned, you surprised at your new nickname. Kenma’s fingers are pulling your panties aside expertly and coating them in your slick in seconds, your moans filling his ears as he prodded them at your entrance. Your breathing becomes uneven as he slids them inside, suckling on your nipple as he looked you in the eyes.

You’re a moaning mess for him, the sounds of the movie playing were drowned out by your pathetic little moans as Kenma fingered you with his slim fingers.

“Hah.. Uuugh, K-Kenmaaa.” You gasp, an orgasm brewing in the pit of your stomach. Kenma chuckled, pulling away from your breast to coax you; talking you through the orgasm about to wash over your body as his fingers hooked to find that spot you like.

“Am I making you feel good, baby?” He asks, you unable to answer as you hold his arm for dear life. “Answer me.”

“Y-Yes! God, Ah! I’m gonna-“

“I know, baby. Cum for me. Cum all over my fucking fingers.” He cooed, rubbing harsh circles into your clit as your legs nearly jolt closed, the pleasure becoming too much as you boil over.

“Yeahhhh baby. Good girl.” He mumbled, rubbing your clit slowly to help ride out your peak, leaving soft kisses on your forehead to soothe you.

You let out a deep sigh, warn out from fingering alone. No one has ever made you feel this good using just his hands. Imagine what he can do to you with his dick.

“Bend over, baby.” Kenma said, motioning for you to turn over on the bed by tapping your outer thigh. You blink dumbly at him, your high still lingering as you flip yourself over on the bed and lay flat.

“Ass up.” He demanded, striking your ass with just enough power to snap you out of your finger-dumb trance. You yelp and arch your back, bringing your ass closer to him as he grabbed your hips.

Kenma stayed still for a while and marveled at your ass bent over for him, rubbing your ass with his big hands and smacking it every so often. He bit his lip, mumbling fuck under his breath as he teased his dick against your already worn out pussy.

You turn to look back at him, lust in your eyes and a face Kenma would never forget.

“F-fuck me. Please Ken, I n-need you.” You beg, tearing up at the feeling of Kenma’s smooth dick brushing up against your sensitive clit.

“Say no more, baby. Gonna fuck you so good.” He hissed, nearly shoving himself inside. You gasp, the feeling of him stretching you so deliciously forcing a guttural moan from your chest.

Kenma started his pace hard yet slow, making sure you felt every inch; every vein of his dick, giving it his all as he ripped your noises from your mouth.

You’re panting, unable to keep up with him as you grip onto the sheets. You shoved your face into his pillows, screams uncontrollably leaving your lips as Kenma started brutally pounding into your poor pussy.

“Uhhnnn! I-I love you Kenma!” You shout, biting down on the pillow as you feel your chest get hot in embarrassment. God, why did you have to say love? Surely he doesn’t feel the same just yet.

“Fuck, I love you too, Y/N. Hah, I wanted to say that to you for so long.” Kenma admits, grabbing a fist full of your hair and yanking you up to him as he hummed sweet praised into your ear as he fucked you stupid. You sob, relieved he felt the same way.

The ultimate exchange of love between two people emerged as he threw you back onto the bed and raised on leg up onto the bed to gain a better angle on that sweet spot of yours causing you to shriek and clench around him as you come close to cumming. Suddenly, the searing hot pleasure stops as Kenma pulled out of you. You whine, your entire body shuddering from the extreme loss.

“Get up. I want you over my desk.” Kenma said, pulling you off the bed by your arm. He was being so rough with you right now you almost thought you were fucking a completely different person; Kenma the shy and awkward gamer boy transformed into the sexiest Dom you’d ever been with.

Your legs wobble as you stood bent over his desk and gaming set up, your naked chest pressed against the cold wood as you wait for him to fuck you again. Kenma prodding himself at your entrance and leaned down close to your ear, sliding himself inside you once more with a grunt.

“You feel so good, you know that? Ugh, I’m gonna ruin you.” He huffed, you answering with a whine. He’s plowing you into his desk before you can respond properly, your hands glued onto the sides of it for dear life. Sooner than late, your orgasm is knocking at your door. Tears bubble in your eyes as you cry out for Kenma.

“C-C-Can I cum now? P-please godd let me cum Ken, ahhah!” You babble, almost unable to hold yourself back for much longer as he pummeled you nice and hard.

“G’head, baby. Cum nice and hard for me.” Kenma granted, giving your ass a hard smack to make you clench around his dick harder as you came. It was amazing. It was like a volcano erupted inside you, loud moans and sobs filling the room as your chest heaved in and out.

Kenma ruts into you one last time and pulls out swiftly, stroking his dick to release himself onto your ass as you sigh from the loss. You both stand still for a while, Kenma staring down at your coating ass cheeks and you at your fucked out reflection of his monitor. You feel him step away, too drunk off your orgasm to even care what he’s doing as he cleans you up and leads you back to bed.

“I dunno where I threw your shirt so I’m just gonna grab one of mine, okay?” Kenma says, rubbing small circles into your back. You nod, eyes closed as you hum into the pillow in comfort.

You tried not to doze off as Kenma dressed you in some clothes of his that you were totally going to steal, his scent coating the fabric of his t-shirt. After a little while, Kenma’s in bed with you lacing his body with yours as he stroked your back to soothe you to sleep.

“Can I sleep over?” You ask cutely. Kenma smiled and kissed your forehead.

“Duh.” He said. You giggle and nuzzle your head into his chest, taking in his scent as you start to doze off.

“Kenma?”

“Hm?”

“Did you mean that? What you said when we were... you know.” You ask, unsure. Kenma grabbed your chin and turned you to face him.

“Of course. I-I uh..” He paused. “I knew loved you the day I met you, Y/N.”

You tear up, pulling him up to kiss you.

“Same.” You say, holding him impossibly closer.

“So does this mean we’re-“ Kenma’s interrupted by the sound of you falling fast asleep, small snores driving Kenma into cuteness overload. He sighs, kissing your forehead as you slept on his chest.

Moments like these are truly ones to cherish.

Tags!

@officialvanitype

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[littlemissnoname13]

Wisps of Smoke (Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Reader) - Part two

Summary: Draco and y/n find themselves drawn to an abandoned classroom every single night

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Reader

Warnings: excessive smoking, mature language, mature themes, smut, female receiving, 18+ reader discretion is advised.

A/n: a big thank you to everyone that read part one. I adore each and every one of you and your feedback sm <3

at this point, I am projecting my cigarette cravings onto Draco Malfoy. Sorry. (Smoking is injurious to health)

Word count: 3000

You can read part one over here

Friday

When your eyes opened the next morning, you found your thoughts to be littered with the kisses you shared with Malfoy.

And even if you’d somehow managed to forget the way he suckled, bit and murmured onto your skin, you had purple hickeys marking your neck to remind you. 

This was a mistake. 

Frantically wrapping your green and silver scarf around your neck, you made a run towards your Potions class but before you could even make it to class, you found yourself pulled into a small gap in the wall making your body go into an instantaneous fight or flight mode. 

“What in the actual fuc—”

You were silenced with a kiss on your lips once again. 

Draco pushed you further up against the wall and moved his lips desperately against yours—kissing your mouth senseless. 

“Do you just lurk around in the hallways waiting to sneak up on people?!” You asked in a breathless whisper as his lips made contact with the base of your neck again after he’d loosened your scarf. 

“Only sometimes.” He smirked. 

The wetness that seeped in through your panties and all the way down your inner thighs was a tell tale sign, warning you to stay away from the abandoned classroom that night. 

And you did just that.

Even if you had reached for your door that night, Adrian’s sudden arrival ensured that you stayed away. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Saturday

It was nearly four in the morning and anyone with a hint of sanity inside of them would have been fast asleep—if they could sleep through the ear-splitting sound of thunder that is. 

It had been raining for three consecutive nights and the sky was as clamorous and angry as ever. 

Draco scoffed to himself at the sound of sleep.

The whole idea now seemed so foreign to him. It was like he had forgotten what a good night's sleep even felt like. 

With his fourth cigarette for the night lit up and between his lips, He leaned against the glass window waiting for you to walk in wearing your insanely soft night dress that he simply couldn’t stop thinking about. 

Why was he waiting for you? 

It wasn’t like you were obliged to come to that classroom every night. 

It wasn’t like both of you now had an unspoken agreement that you’d meet up in this murky classroom to talk, make out—maybe even shag. 

How ravishing you’d look with your slip dress slipped off into a pool at your feet.

He couldn’t help but imagine you seated on the windowsill with your legs parted. He’d eat you out all night if he could. Lick up long, slow, deliberate licks up your slit and place soft, airy kisses along your inner thighs. 

The images of you straddling him with your tits  bouncing up and down as he pumped into you refused to leave his mind, leaving him all hot, bothered and frenzied with lust. 

Draco forced himself to snap out of his vision and shook his head, restraining himself from reaching towards the buttons of his trousers.

The rain clouds had started to clear up a bit and the sky had slowly started to change colours with the darkest shade of black on the top of the sky trickling down into shades of lighter blue indicating the break of day. 

He wanted to give himself hell for waiting up all night for you for the second time that week—infuriated with the way you made him feel. 

He wanted you out of his system—You and your stupid silk slip dress. 

Your stupid stupid stupid slip dress. 

But before he could even manage to make an exit from the classroom, you pounced right into him with a thud. 

The way you collided with him resembled the collision of opposite magnetic poles—powerful and inevitable. 

"Took you long enough." Draco breathed, holding you tightly against him as he desperately ran his hands along your sides feeling the fabric of your silky nightdress.

"I tried to stay away. I tried so hard." You whispered, and he instantly placed his lips onto yours furrowing his brows as you fiercely kissed him back.

“But I just couldn’t help myself.” You mumbled between kisses as he lifted you up, causing you to wrap your legs around his torso as he carried you. 

“Good.” 

Both of you knew there would be implications to your actions but that seemed like a problem for future Draco and y/n. 

You let your head fall onto his shoulder and you moaned loudly when you felt him grip the exposed skin of your thigh—his fingertips and his ring dug deep into your skin making you hiss into the base of his neck from the sting of pleasure.

If he was going to go around leaving markings on your flesh, so would you. 

It was only fair. 

You went on ahead and sucked on his flesh as he carried you all the way to the window and sat you on the windowsill. 

Hastily tugging the straps of your nightie that had imprinted itself into his subconscious, he made the smooth fabric slide right off your body and into a pool on the floor. 

“Nothing underneath?” He chuckled gazing intently at your naked body making a pink flush appear on your face as you nodded closing your legs together and crossing your arms over your breasts. 

His vision just didn’t do justice to the sight in front of him. 

The sight you exposed, sitting timidly on the windowsill with rosy cheeks woke up something primal inside of him. 

You felt him kneel on the floor in front of you, parting your legs and gently moving your arms away from your body. 

“So fucking perfect.” Draco drew in a sharp breath before leaning in to capture your lips into his, brushing his hands over your shoulders, trailing all the way down your arms and back up again. “Don’t you dare cover yourself up.” 

There was an unusually strong taste of cigarettes fused into the flavor of what felt like mint and apples on his lips and you tried to extract every bit of it—running your tongue along his bottom lip earning a feral groan from him. 

He let his hands ghost around your breast—barely touching.

It wasn’t like he didn’t want to.

He did.

So fucking bad.

But he wanted confirmation from you.

He wanted to know if you wanted this as much as he did. A sign, a sigh, a moan, anything. 

“Draco.”  You murmured into the kiss with your hands yanking on his black button down—fumbling with the buttons. 

Never had he ever heard a sweeter sound. 

Actually scratch that, your moans were even sweeter as he massaged and kneaded your breasts, tugging and pulling onto your hardened nipples. 

“Oh, Draco.” 

His given name on your swollen lips sounded like an invitation he simply couldn’t resist— so fucking innocent and mischievous at the same time. 

The lower his kisses trailed, the more incoherent your speech got. 

Wet, open mouthed, starved kisses that started along your jaw and down your neck moved lower and lower until you felt like you had forgotten every other word that wasn’t “Draco.”  Or fuck.

You felt his hot breath on your hardened nipple as he swirled his tongue around it—catching the left one in his mouth. You grabbed a fistful of his blonde hair as he started to suck and your moans only encouraged him to suck harder. 

He wanted to worship every square inch of your body, on his knees in front of you  like you were his only deity —repeating his licks on both of your nipples, occasionally stopping to litter dark purple bruises around your chest. 

Draco paused and looked up at you with his silvery greys. 

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t picture this exact scene in this head a thousand times over. 

Sure, your complete inability to stay quiet made him livid. 

Sure, the way you walked around in translucent white tops, absolutely unaware of the one too many curious onlookers pissed him off. 

Sure, he’d thought about pushing Adrian Pucey off his broom. 

But the way you sat on that window sill with your legs spread out—wetness dripping down your legs and your pretty little cunt glistening was straight out of Draco’s deepest darkest fantasy.

You arched your back bucking your hips forward and he smirked at your silent pleas.

And when the tip of his tongue gently massaged your clit, it was like your entire body was set ablaze.

You’d never felt that way before and he was just getting started—making you let out a sound even you didn’t know you were capable of making.

 It was somewhere along the lines of a moan and a gasp. Maybe a combination of both. 

After a long, slow torturous lick up your folds, he looked up at you. 

“You taste..” another slow lick “so fucking good.” 

“Please—Drac..Fuck—” 

You lost it when he started to eat you out. It was as if he was starved for this. 

He kitten licked, kissed and nipped you like he’d been waiting for this very moment—this moment with you on the windowsill with his blonde head in between your legs, fingers bunching his hair, calling out only his name with a plethora of other swears. 

And you slowly understood. 

You understood the screams coming from whoever he was shagging the other night. 

There was nothing tentative or hesitant in the way he moved his tongue. 

He knew what he was doing, he knew what he wanted, he wanted you.

“Draco—” You moaned jutting your hips forward when his tongue made contact with just the right spot. “Fuck— god Draco yes right there—ah-.” 

“Right here?” He teased as he continued to lick. With his grey eyes focused on you—the way you bit your lips and rolled your eyes back in pleasure. 

He wanted to remember it, recall and replay it in his mind for hours on end. 

He didn’t care about the mellow and golden rays of sunlight pouring in through the window glass you had your back rested against. 

He didn’t care about any fucking body or any fucking thing. 

You let out another laboured gasp when you felt him push his finger inside you. One finger at first, allowing you to get used to the sensation. 

And then he put in a second finger, the cold metal of his ring making contact with your sensitive skin. 

There was a strange feeling inside of your stomach. It was pressure—kind of like a knot waiting to snap. 

It was delicious. 

It had you begging for more. 

You simply couldn’t think of anything or anyone else. 

Whatever he was doing with his fingers and tongue—you just wanted more. 

“Please Draco—don’t stop.” 

The sounds you were making made him want to bend you over, press you against the window and fuck you mercilessly, but there was a part of him that reminded him that you deserved more than that. 

You deserved more than just a quick little fuck in this classroom. 

He wanted to take you, make you his, make you cum over and over again and although he wasn’t sure he could do the former in that particular moment in time, he sure as hell could do the latter. 

His fingers and tongue moved in perfect coordination. Each taste accompanied by his fingers pumping in and out of you. 

Draco knew you were close. He could tell by the way you gripped onto his hair while you clenched around his fingers. 

“Let yourself go y/n.” He murmured. “Yes, that’s it—good girl.” 

You felt the tight knot in your lower abdomen snap at his words, and you felt overcome with pleasure that made your legs spasm and your toes curl. 

“Draco..I think I’m..ah—”

“That’s it y/n, be a good girl and cum on my mouth yeah?”

Your high felt like an ocean wave—sweeping, billowing and crashing all over your body. 

“You don’t know how long I’ve been wanting to do that to you.” He looked up at you, accomplished as his lips twisted upwards and you looked down at him with a peachy kind of afterglow on your cheeks.

“And I wouldn’t mind doing that again.” 

~~~~~~~~~

Sunday

A four poster bed, a nightstand and a desk full of nothing but books stacked upon one another and an opulent looking rug on the floor. 

Of course, Malfoy had his own bedroom. 

You kept telling yourself that it was the softness of his pricey pillow, laden with his scent and his thousand thread-count sheets that made you want to spend the rest of eternity there.

It certainly had nothing to do with the fact that Draco kept grumbling in his sleep while pulling you closer to him every passing second or two.

It had nothing to do with how content you felt with your bare body pressed up against him.

He still had his shirt on, unbuttoned all the way allowing you to brush your fingertips against his toned abdomen.

You could tell it was already late evening by the way bare minimum light seeped into the lake and in through the windows.

You had spent the entire Sunday in his room, where he snogged you, ate you out and gave you orgasms upon orgasms.

He was adamant with the way he said “not yet.” every time you tried to unbuckle his pants. 

You sighed and allowed your lips to graze his forehead for the briefest of seconds before shimming free from his arms. 

After sliding your dress back on, you tiptoed to his dresser when you saw a pack of unopened cigarettes on it.

Blame it on mere curiosity but you slowly took a cancer stick out and placed it between your lips—right in the far corner just the way he did it and looked at yourself in the mirror. 

Your neck was marked in a trail of purple bruises and your hair looked like it had definitely seen better days than this.

 As messy as you looked, the reflection stared back at you looking content. 

"If you wanted a smoke, all you had to do was ask." 

The husky tone of his voice startled you. He was propped up on his elbows with his messy blonde hair covering most of his forehead making you weak in your knees.

Damn you Draco Lucius Malfoy. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Monday 

Both of you had showed up to your potions class late—your shirt buttoned all wrong and his blonde hair in a riot of knots and tangles. 

It was the result of an intense snog fest against a wall but nobody needed to know that. 

“That’s the wrong ingredient y/l/n.” Draco scoffed pretending like his tongue wasn’t in your mouth just a few minutes ago. 

Two can play at this game. 

“It is not.” You glared at him making poor Blaise next to you wish he could just shrivel away. 

“Is too.” 

“Is not.” 

“Is too.” 

~~~~~~~~

Tuesday 

“Oh and thank you very much for getting me into detention yesterday.” You said sarcastically while he quietly smoked his cigarette next to you. 

And thank you for making me fall apart by the mercy of your fingers at detention. 

You were seated on the same window sill but this time, you had clothes on—three whole layers of clothing actually. 

“Pleasure.” He chucked, exhaling.

With his exhale, wisps of smoke escaped his lips creating a veil around you two. 

The smell had started to get tolerable, familiar—pleasant even. 

It was strange how the human mind was conditioned into latching itself onto anything that brought it comfort. 

Where there was smoke there was Draco. 

It came as a fixed packaged deal and you didn’t feel the need to complain anymore. 

“So, does Pucey know what you’ve been up to these days or is he still as oblivious as ever?

“Adrian wouldn’t notice if I went missing for a week.” You shrugged.

“Then why are you with him?”

“As cliched as it sounds, its complicated.”

~~~~~~~

Wednesday

“I’m starting to believe I’m a terrible influence on you.” He muttered, raising only one of his eyebrows as he watched you pull out the lit up cigarette from his mouth. 

“Absolutely, without a doubt.” You confirmed, placing his cigarette between your lips attempting to inhale. 

The second you did, you were left a coughing, wheezing wreck—throat on fire, tears streaming down your cheek. 

You quickly drank the water he’d already conjured with a simple aguamenti charm and proceeded to smoke again. 

His heart felt the strange and inconvenient kind of ache seeing you make a mess out of yourself, struggling with the coughing. 

He’d also noticed how you put the cigarette on the far corner of your lip the way he did but he decided to not bring that up. 

“And why have you suddenly decided to take up smoking?” 

“I’ve grown quite fond of the taste.” You blurted involuntarily.

“Oh y/n.” He shook his head. He’d never seen you smoking so there was only one explanation and the explanation made him feel things he’d rather not.

“Cm’here.” 

His hands gently grasped into the hair on the nape of your neck as he pressed his lips on you. 

“Could have just said you wanted to kiss me.” He smirked against your lips. 

“Shut up.” You murmured back. “Just kiss me.”

~~~~~~~~~

Thursday

You always did feel bolder, livelier and happier towards the end of the week. 

Maybe it was the Fire whisky you two and brought to the classroom in his flask coursing through your veins but you felt brave. 

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to do.” You declared so courageously, taken aback by your own capability of sounding like a reckless Gryffindor. 

“And what would that be y/n?”

You pulled him by his green tie and brushed your lips on his for a fraction of a second before dropping down on your knees in front of where he was seated. 

“This.” 

To be continued....

~~~~~~~~~~

Part 3 teaser:

Draco watched with fascination as you tried to slip back into the remains of your silk slip dress.

“I’m sorry about your dress.”

“That’s okay.” You mumbled absently as you tried to get your dress to stay on your body.

“Here.” He said hesitantly before handing you his blazer. “Wear this.”

“Going back to my dorm with your blazer doesn’t seem like a good idea.” You chuckled as the fabric drowned you. “What am I going to tell Pansy?”

His lips quirked up into a faint smile.

“You’re not going to your dorm y/l/n.”

Part three is available here.

~~~~~~~~~~

Tag list: @maybesandohnos @justfangirlthingies @lieswithoutfairytales @dracomalfoys-wh0re @hannahhobnob @sycathorn-slush @mxl-foyrecs @daringvixon @linetteyde @imbadwithunsernames @dracoswhore007 @myunngi @goawayimreadingbeach @loxbbg @icedlattewithalmondmilk @paulina1998 

Thank you all for asking to be on my tag list for this story. I would give you all a blonde ferret if I could. (p.s. I was unable to tag the ones in bold for some reason. :’( )

[aerialflight]

Fic Rec (it's been too long and I read a whole lot of fics)

I've read so many fics these past couple of months and my need to share them to the world has seized me by the throat. Please enjoy and support these fanfic writers! They are the best. XD

-

[Naruto]

Nine-Tailed Foxes are Dead by RowlettLesbian

Ship: Shikamaru/Naruto

For Konoha, it's been one month since the preliminary Chunin exams. For Naruto, it's been six. And he wasn't in Konoha.

At the end of his ordeal, Naruto walks into the Chunin Exam finals without his left arm.

Shikamaru is very concerned. And, eventually, very precious to Naruto as they work together to solve the mysteries of Konoha and bring kindness to the Shinobi world, one adventure at a time.

(I would die for this fic. I know the summary sounds doom and gloom but IT'S NOT. This fic made me fucking cry, I don't think I've ever read a fic that characterized Naruto so right. He's so full of hope and love and develops into the best version of himself and I'm so HERE FOR IT. And it's not just Naruto, Shikamaru is absolutely amazing here along with Kakashi and surprise surprise Ino, I can't BELIEVE it took me this long to stumble across this fic. Also THE WORLDBUILDING IS TO DIE FOR!!! And the plot! Is! So! Interesting! Just, everything about this fic is just amazing so please PLEASE read this!!!)

The End of the Uchiha by RowlettLesbian

Ship: Naruto/Sasuke

“I promise, little electric spirit of this shrine,” he whispered into the soft dirt and fallen leaves, “I will never gain the eyes. I will never pass them on. And I will make sure the eyes end in my brother, so that they can’t hurt anybody anymore. I will be the last Uchiha, and see to the end of the Copy-Wheel Clan. Then all of the hatred here can stop, and my family can rest peacefully. I promise, little shrine.”

Sasuke is more than his brother thinks he is. He's more than any Uchiha has ever been. He will kill his brother, but it will not be vengeance.

It will be mercy.

(Same author as the one above, they are the gift that keeps on giving. Seriously, HOW did I NEVER FIND THESE FICS before now??? One of life's greatest mysteries. The author's sense of humor is so on point here along with the atmospheric writing that's so vivid in the mind. Their writing style is so recognizable to me now and makes me fall into the world they're creating, it's stunning. Sasuke here makes me want to hug him and the idea of him living like a feral ghibli character has me LIVING. Check the tags of the fic, all of it is true, hand to god. Please give all of the author's fics a shot, it's a rabbit hole I'm thankful I fell into!)

mil fantasmas (gritan en calma) by LegaciesandMemories

Post-Tsukuyomi, something in Uchiha Sasuke's mind shatters. The same night, Yamanaka Ino falls asleep and doesn't wake up for 15 days.

---

In which Ino and Sasuke both wake from the aftermath of the Uchiha Massacre with the ability to see ghosts, and no one is prepared for the fallout.

(This fic has arrested my curiosity and eagerness to know what will happen next. These poor kids need so many hugs and Ino is getting the spotlight she deserves. I am so excited for this fic and what it has in store! Please read! XD)

Lichtenberg Figures by Asteroid_Duck (JustThatOneGirl1815)

Name: Kakashi Hatake Rank: Jounin Status: Missing Nin Missing Since: June 15th, 271 AD Note: Flee on Sight . . . Haburashi looked his team in the eyes— three, fresh out of the Academy genin— and resolved to teach them as best as he could. And right now, his lesson was simple: “Stay. Away. From. Kakashi. Hatake.”

(Dimension travel fic with a slice of Kakashi being an absolute troll and dealing with the shitty hand he's been dealt with. Seriously, the man has the worst luck in all of Konoha. Also, the mystery of the other Kakashi's history has me leaning by the edge of my seat, I need to know.)

The Governess by Ysmirel

Ship: Kakashi/OFC

"“What,” he finally asked, “is so funny?”

Ibara bit her lower lip to keep the chuckles in, still smiling and making absolutely no effort to get more space between them, seemingly perfectly at ease within reach of a trained shinobi. Her self-control wasn't all that good, as she ended up snorting and was overcame once again by another fit of laughter. “I just- It's just-” She struggled to speak, trying to catch her breath and wiping away tears of mirth with the hand that wasn't still holding onto his vest. Finally, she looked him in the eye and said, with a smile that was all teeth and without a hint of her previous drunken stupor, “and who's going to believe you?”

As he stood there, stunned by her words and change in demeanor, he realized with dawning horror that she was right."

In which Kakashi finds himself at the other end of the troll shtick, and he doesn't appreciate it all that much.

(It's so hard to find self-insert fics with a fresh concept these days, especially in the naruto fandom. Not that I don't enjoy and devour a lot of self insert fics like it's going out of style, but it's just so nice to find something new and shiny and really damn good. I'm so pumped for this fic and how it's going to develop so please join me in rooting for this fic!)

half a league (until the valley of death) by SpectersShadow117

Kakashi can think of no reason for Sasuke's inexplicable and drastic change in behavior. He doesn't like the desperate, haunted gleam in his student's eyes, and he also doesn't like the nagging feeling that he's missing something very important. Aka: Future Sasuke goes to Past Sasuke and gives him a reality check with Specific Intentions, but as with most Uchiha, his methods leave much to be desired. (Featuring: Childhood trauma FTW, Konoha's shitty care of orphans, and absolutely no one having a fun time.)

(Sasuke wanting to change the future out of complete and utter spite has me LIVING. Sasuke is such a Mess here and the twist on the time travel premise is so good and the kid is so Traumatized and Desperate and Not Having A Good Time. Naruto and Sakura developing as better ninjas and Kakashi trying his best makes me want to scream. Also, how Sasuke thinks about Itachi makes me want to cackle. I am 100% down for this. I am rooting for this kid, go get them! XD)

-

[Harry Potter]

fruit loops in time (circle around me) by justprompts

Ships: Harry/Draco, Remus/Sirius

"This is Crabbe, and Goyle," the blonde boy says, pointing at the two boys next to him. "And I'm Malfoy, Draco Ma - "

Ron laughs, and Malfoy immediately bristles.

"Think my name's funny, do you?" Malfoy says, angrily. "No need to ask yours - "

"You're honestly so cute," Ron interrupts, yet again, shaking his head. "So tiny. And so angry, all the time. It's adorable."

Alternatively Ron Weasley, Time Traveller Extraordinaire, is stuck in the same seven year Hogwarts Loop, repeating the same thing over and over again. Naturally, he's so done with everything.

(This is the greatest hp fic I've ever read. I LOVE RON WEASLEY and by the time you read this fic SO WILL YOU!! This is the fic I WISH I have the ability to write. I read this entire fic aloud to my brother and we spent literal hours howling and talking about how utterly insane and incredible this fic is, it's amazing. This is hands down my favorite Ron Weasley. You Can Pry This Fic From My Cold Dead Fingers.)

-

[Boku no Hero Academia]

Kacchan's Cult by Ourliazo

Pro Hero Ground Zero is attacked, originally meant to be de-aged out of existence by a desperate villain but is instead launched into his 14-year-old self.

But Katsuki is a fucking pro so whatever, time to fuck up someone's day. And sure, maybe he's only one man, but that's why he conscripts the entirety of the UA student body into tearing down some criminal empires.

(It's time travel, crack, and Bakugou being his usual explody, competent self. What more in life do you want? Seriously though, please read. I'm obsessed with this fic and having a Good Time!)

Cleaning Crew; Teaching Kids to Value their Safety, for Fun and Profit by Reavv

Takenaka Hideo is a thirty-two year old, in mild desperation for money, who has just been hired as a new janitor for UA's support staff. He has a quirk that lets him find lost objects, a liaison with the police because of it, and desperate desire for competent co-workers.

Oh, and he's already lived a previous life, in a world where quirks and heroes didn't even exist.

Not a big deal, though. It's not like you ever see the janitor playing a big part in action movies. He's here to get paid, and that's it.

On the opposite side of the equation, class 1-A has to wonder at the new UA cryptid that always seems to show up when things are on fire, and who keeps trying to convince them to let the adults handle the fire extinguisher.

(A great deal of fun packed into one fic. That is how I title this fic and nothing will change my mind! Hideo just wants to quietly do his job and not get in the way. I Relate. Please read!)

Poltergeist by WriterGreenReads

Class 1-A is haunted.

Well, not really.

I AM dead, though.

World's friendliest poltergeist, at your service.

(I don't know how I got so sucked into OC fics, but I found some fantastic fics along the way so I have no regrets. The author really tries to push the premise and I just love all the interactions and dynamics that form as the fic gets further in. And the OC character and all the hijinks they get up to cracks me up! At the same time, it's pretty heartwarming and it's practically a friendships galore fic! Definitely recommend it!)

invincible by supercrunch for Engrin

Ship: Bakugou/Midoriya

This is the way the world works: the sun rises in the east. The strong come out on top. Bakugou Katsuki rockets through life like a comet and Midoriya Izuku stumbles after. If he believed in such things Katsuki would say it was written in the stars. That some god of war had looked at him and said this one. That he’d been passed along a line to get his blessings – genius, willpower, fearless ambition – and dropped off on earth.

Then, of course, there is the question of Deku. The spitfire runt. Deku, no matter what the world does to him, never stops hoping.

Until, of course, he eventually does.

(Katsuki broke him. Snapped him in half like a twig and now has to scramble to put Deku back together. “We can do this, Deku," he says slowly. "There are so many mysteries that never got put to bed. Criminals roaming around looking to hurt people and you and me, we can fix that.”

There’s a long pause. The comforter slips a little off Deku’s skinny shoulders and drowns him. “You mean like a team?”

In that split second, Katsuki makes a decision he’s never even considered. He swallows his pride. “Yeah, Deku. We’d be a team.”)

(If there was any other way canon could've gone, this is the story I would've wanted. It's perfect.)

Inadvertent Wilderness Therapy by Cacid

Following an unfortunate encounter with a teleporter on the last day of internships, Bakugou Katsuki and Hakamata Tsunagu spend some quality time in northern Canada.

In no particular order they will: build ugly survival shelters, stalk rabbits, run from polar bears, reflect on the chemical composition of trees, insult each other, and complain about krumholtz.

(THESE TWO. TOGETHER. IN THE WILDERNESS. IN FUCKING CANADA OF ALL PLACES. I still can't believe this fic actually exists and just how INVESTED I became in their relationship. Blue Jeanist instantly became my favorite ranked hero with this fic alone. HIS SENSE OF HUMOR IS TERRIBLE, I LOVE HIM SO MUCH FNIEWOPAF. BAKUGOU DOES TOO. IT'S FUCKING INCREDIBLE. *incoherent screeching into the wild*)

-

[Stranger Things]

Baci D'aria by RabbitDarling

“Love is worth the sum of itself, and nothing more.” ― Alice Hoffman, Practical Magic

Steve learned a lot at his Aunt's side before she passed but his favourite thing she taught him was baci d'aria; special little spells that you created from the heart and put into the food you shared.

In opening his heart and gifts to those around him Steve slowly finds himself a family in a way he never thought he'd get to experience. One by One he collects pre-teens to trail in his wake like ducklings and Steve can't even refute it by the time he realizes what has happened.

(This fic is so soft and Steve is just collecting people and winning them over with his magical food (literally). I am always a sucker for heartwarming, good for the soul fics so if you want to make yourself hungry and feel all warm and gooey inside, read this!)

(Don't Fear) The Reaper by TeaFourTwo

Ship: Steve/Billy

He looks down at the blood on his hands and on the floor and wonders why the memory hasn’t broken yet, why he isn’t back in Starcourt mall with control of his body again, wonders if he's even still alive at all. Is this hell then? Or perhaps purgatory? It certainly isn’t heaven, that’s for sure. None of this makes any sense…but then what's new—nothing in Billy’s life makes sense anymore.

Billy laughs then, loud and long and unhinged. It's the only sound in the whole house, and it bounces off the walls like a fucked up echo, like the world is laughing with him.

“Jesus christ you’re insane…” It’s Max’s voice and it’s shaking. It only makes Billy laugh harder, because Max has it all wrong. Billy isn’t crazy, it’s the rest of the world that’s insane.

--

Billy dies a hero of sorts. He wakes up back in his bed on Saturday morning, the third of November, 1984...nearly nine months earlier.

(Billy is stuck in a time loop and it's slowly driving him crazy. And the fic shows just how much influence Billy did have in the plot and how doomed the world is without him in it. Great character exploration with Billy's character and all the ways he's so messy and human. Definitely recommend it!)

-

[Knives Out]

The Road Less Traveled By by UisceOneLove

Ship: Marta/Ransom

If Harlan wants to leave Ransom to be on his own, fine. He'll show him just what Ransom Drysdale is capable of.

or, where Ransom chooses to prove his abilities through means of the non-homicidal variety and finds himself becoming exactly what Harlan was hoping he would.

(I found this fic out of sheer chance and god, Ransom is just, so fascinating to me as a character. Marta of course is the Best here and I will forever stan her. Seriously, this is such a good fic! Please read!)

-

[Haikyuu!!]

Sky Full of Stars by grilledsquids

The Hinatas are twins. They're practically identical.

But while Shouyou seeks out Karasuno's volleyball team to become the next Little Giant, Natsu is scouted to to play soccer for Shiratorizawa. While Shouyou sets his eyes on playing volleyball at the highest level possible, his sister wonders how much longer she can play soccer... and if it's worth it to keep going.

A Natsu-centric story featuring: Shiratorizawa VBC shenanigans, too many soccer OCs, mild teenage drama, a little bit of plot, and Semi Eita not knowing what a period is.

(It's just!! So cute and wholesome!!! The Shiratorizawa volleyball team is so fleshed out along with the OC characters for the girl's soccer team and I swear, it's been a long while since I've laughed this much at the sheer shenanigans that happen in a fic. It's surprisingly hard to find good gen fics in this fandom so finding this gem made me so happy! If you want a fic that brings a smile to your face, read this!!)

like water by speakingincode

Ship: Oikawa/Kageyama

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi says, and when Tooru looks at him, he can read My best friend’s an idiot off the crease of his eyebrows. “Are you telling me you spent the last three years weirdly obsessed with Kageyama – I still remember the time you made us play him on a dumb whim, you know – and now you’re at his beck and call? Are you okay? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I’m— I’m not at his beck and call! I said no last week. It’s… It’s like you said. I get bored easily. I saw him at the park a couple weeks after they played Nationals and called him a perfect little tyrant, and he pestered me into spending time with him after,” Tooru says. “I’m not a monster, Iwa-chan. If he wants the company of his cool, handsome ex-upperclassman that badly, who am I to begrudge him?”

Or: Oikawa doesn't know why Kageyama keeps asking to meet him on Saturdays. He also doesn't know why he keeps saying yes.

(The fact this fic is canon-compliant and covers post-canon too makes me want to shout to the heavens. Fucking incredible! One of the best Oikakage fics ever and it's a crime how it's not at the top of the ship tag. Please please read!!)

twist into your shape by kakkoweeb

Ship: Oikawa/Kageyama

The only thing better than sweets were sweets containing paper that told you whether your future would be good or bad--or in Kageyama and Oikawa's case, paper that somehow caused you to live inside each other's bodies.

(Everyone probably already read this fic but it needs to be said, you need to read this fic. How these two try and manage each other's lives and slowly start to care about one another is so beautiful and sincere and I am ready to wrestle anyone to the floor and comply them into reading this fic. Doesn't matter if you like the ship, you will become a fan if you read it, I promise. Please please read!!)

Take the Long Road Home by pepperfield

Ship: Kuroo/Sawamura

When Azumane Asahi goes missing before his engagement meeting with Kozume Kenma, what other option is there but for Daichi to impersonate his brother and fake his way through a first date with Asahi's fiance?

Okay, let's be realistic - there were probably at least four other options.

Unfortunately, Tetsurou couldn't come up with any of them either, so now he's here flirting with Kenma's future husband while trying to keep his web of deceit from collapsing.

It's going to be an eventful day.

(I got obsessed with this ship alongside Oikakage and SO WILL YOU. THE POTENTIAL. THE BANTER. THE FACT THEY'RE BOTH DORKS AND THE FIC HAS IDENTITY SHENANIGANS DANCING ALL OVER IT!! I had so much fun reading this and these two are MEANT TO BE FENIWPAF. If you don't see the potential of this ship, you will now.)

a misunderstanding a day keeps the boyfriend away by bartallen for betuls

Ship: Kuroo/Sawamura

Kuroo doesn’t fall in love hard and fast like many others do – he falls slowly, and very very softly. Most of the times he doesn’t even realise he’s in love with someone until it’s too late.

(Kuroo is the dumbest man alive and I've never related to someone so hard in my life. God help me.)

You like me. by roseknight

Ship: Daishou/Kuroo

Kuroo nearly lived a Daishou-free life, and sometimes he looked back and wondered how much better and how much worse that would've been.

(I didn't even know who Daishou was until I read this fic and now I can't unsee the potential this ship has. I'm a ruined woman and I regret NOTHING.)

Kings of the Road, Kings of the Universe by EzzyDean

Eight magical captains, one bus, an entire summer (and country) waiting for them.

What could possibly go wrong?

(The magic of friendship meets the magic of a summer road trip meets pure magic.)

(CAPTAIN SQUAD IS THE BEST SQUAD SOMEBODY PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD SEND ME SOME CAPTAIN SQUAD FICS I AM SO IN LOVE WITH THIS SQUAD IT'S A PROBLEM AAAAHHHHHH!)

宿縁 : See You Soon by MissKiraBlue

Ship: Oikawa/Kageyama

Upon arriving at the train station of death, an impure soul is granted a second chance at life against his will. Reincarnating into the body of Kageyama Tobio, a 15-year-old boy who recently committed suicide. Tobio's soul will depart at death and the soul needs to slip in to replace it. If the soul's reformation succeeds, he’ll reenter the cycle of rebirth and regain the right to be reborn. He will have three months to accomplish this task.

“Even though you had enough of life,” the soul whispered into the void of the room, “you were still afraid to hurt your hands, Tobio.”

Afraid of giving himself a scar, if he survived.

He touched his pulse and grasped life and couldn’t help but pity Kageyama Tobio.

"You wanted to die and now I’m here making you live again," he whispered into the night.

(I'm not even exaggerating when I say out of all the fics in this entire goddamn, too long list, this is the fic I'm anticipating and heart eyeing the most. It's only starting, but I already cried on chapter fucking 2, the power of this fic, holy shit. The author also wrote the hq time loop Every Tomorrows series, which I have an undying love for and am full on praying for the day it updates, so you KNOW this fic will be just as good. (Anybody who hasn't read this series, where the hell have you been?? Read it!!) Just, everything about this fic hurts me and something in my chest just aches when I read this fic. Go into it blind with an open heart and I swear to you, it's going to change your life. I'm already calling it. Seriously though, please please read!)

-

[Crossover]

Learning to Fly by Asteroid_Duck (JustThatOneGirl1815)

Fandoms: Boku no Hero Academia, Naruto

The number three hero is a walking (well, flying) contradiction in every sense of the word. This includes his teaching skills. Why had Tokoyami agreed to this internship again? Oh right. He’d thought he was actually going to learn something. …….remind him to never be so optimistic again. . . . OR, Kakashi Hatake is reincarnated as the pro hero, Hawks. Tokoyami Fumikage suffers as a result.

(The reincarnation fic I never thought I needed and it's so good!! I've never really paid attention to Tokoyami and this fic sent me headfirst into loving him. Their dynamic is so interesting and I just love how their relationship develops. Also, Kakashi trolling the poor kid made me cackle, it's great! Definitely recommend it!)

Si Vis Pacem by athenoot

Fandoms: Boku no Hero Academia, John Wick

Everything has a price. That's what John has always known and will forever remember, even in death.

Which is pretty ironic considering his current circumstance.

Instead of a grown, scarred, weary body belonging to a man as cruel and broken as him, he's inhabiting a younger, smaller, unblemished one belonging to a child with strangely colored hair, and is living in what seems to be a superhuman society.

Well. May it never be said that John isn't a strategist. He can live with this. Maybe.

(Somewhere out there in the universe, he's certain he could hear the laughter of his enemies from beyond the grave.)

-

Or: John Wick is reincarnated as Midoriya Izuku. The world should probably watch its back.

(This should be one of the crackiest fics I've read in a while, but it's taken so seriously and I'm so HERE FOR THIS. John Wick being John Wick in a world of quirks and heroes is the GREATEST, honestly, he's so badass. Bakugou, I feel for you, you must be so fucking confused lol. Bakugou trying his best to be a good friend is one of the best things about this fic. Trust me, this fic will make your day, promise!)

A Girl's Mind is a Dangerous Place by clenastia

Fandoms: Naruto, Fairy Tail

Natsu wakes up in Sakura's body. It only gets worse from there. Also known as: In Which Natsu has No Idea what to do with Boobs.

(I binged this in two fucking days, I couldn't put it down. This fic reminded me why I liked fairy tail when I was younger and why Natsu is honestly such a great protagonist, god. And the fic does that thing, you know, the Thing where when two worlds collide, the characters struggle to acclimate and adapt to a completely another world with different rules and mindsets against their own. This fic is seriously one of the best when it comes to that aspect, it's incredible. I am going absolutely feral over here for this fic to update, I'm waiting in the wings, ready to pounce like a tiger, all the metaphors man. For the love of god, read this fic.)

Give me a landscape made of obstacles by Melise

Fandoms: Naruto, Natsume's Book of Friends

Kakashi Hatake isn’t who he says he is.

Because the truth is that he’s actually a youkai in disguise, a wolf spirit named Madara who stumbled across the Hatake clan during the Warring States Period. Intrigued by the shinobi he saw, he’d proposed a temporary alliance in which he would offer the clan protection in exchange for their teachings.

Decades later, Madara is surprised to find himself inadvertently summoned to Konoha by the last living member of the Hatake clan. Sakumo Hatake, who is mourning the recent deaths of his wife and stillborn child, doesn’t want to be alone anymore. So with his permission, Madara takes the place of Sakumo’s deceased son in order to watch over the last Hatake.

(Fusion in which the youkai of Natsume’s Book of Friends all exist in the Naruto world. No knowledge of Natsume’s Book of Friends required).

(Before this fic, I only had a very vague idea of what Natsume's Book of Friends was, and honestly, I still don't know much about it. But I didn't really need to know to get into this fic. I love the worldbuilding and the relationships Kakashi forms, both supernatural and mortal. I love how Kakashi's inhumane ways affect others around him, whether to stress them out or become used to the strange. You can go straight into this fic without knowing anything and absolutely still have a fantastic time. I definitely recommend this so please read!)

[loveislattes]

Everything Comes at a Price (Demon!Dark/Fem!Reader) Chapter 2

You can find Chapter 1 here!

Commission prompt: Reader is really depressed, and Dark decides to roughly Fuck the depression out of them.

Important: Reader has female pronouns and is a vagina owner!

Warnings (For this chapter specifically): Depression, talks of death, smut, dom/sub, rough sex, Demon!Dark, demon-like anatomy, shadow tentacles, oral (male receiving), very minor breath play, teasing, pet names, dirty talk, minor degradation, praise kink, unprotected sex, primal/power play, and multiple orgasms!

A/N: Other than the kink warnings, this one is safe to read! No gore/death. No beta- there may be a few errors.

As always, if you would like to support me, I have a Ko-Fi (here) for donations and I usually have a few slots open for commissions (unless life gets in the way)!

Tags: (If you want to be tagged in my writing, just let me know!)

@when-the-sun-goes-dark

@underthedark13

@fruitypieq

@another-thirsty-blog

@hcrystal02

@just-a-little-bat

“You’re sure? The doctor is sure?” you questioned earnestly.

“Yes! Yes! They say it’s like some kind of miracle. They expect her to make a full recovery after some physical therapy. Isn’t it great, Y/N?!”

You could feel your lips twist up into a bittersweet smile as tears poured from your clenched eyes. The taste of salt was bitter on your lips as you nodded asininely into the phone.

“Yeah, that’s- that’s amazing,” you whispered, “Listen, auntie, I’ve got to get ready for work but please keep me updated if anything changes.”

The phone fell into the fluffy blankets across your lap and you let out the choked sob that you’d been holding back. Wish number four had been a success. You’d done some actual good with your imminent death.

Despite the good news, the oppressive cloud around you didn’t dissipate; Unsurprising but disappointing nonetheless.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” you hissed, smacking your cheeks a couple of times.

Suddenly, a terribly wonderfully awful idea popped up and there was a modicum of relief in your chest. You snagged up the coin from its perch on the bedside table and clutched it to your chest close.

“Dark, I think I know my last wish. Is it possible to wish for death?”

There was no immediate answer, nor did you die immediately. A tremor in the atmosphere of the room was the only sign that something had changed and you brought your head up in surprise. The sight of the debonair demon standing amongst your depression room instantly filled you with shame. Great. Just what you needed to be added to your already heaping pile of negative emotions.

“Hello, darling.”

You managed a weak little hello in reply as he began to stroll your way. You weren’t sure whether you should stand up to greet him or just allow him to come to you, but he quickly made that decision for you as he came to a stop at your side.

“I regret to inform you that you’ve managed to find one of the three types of wishes I’m unable to grant. Is there something els-”

“Please, Dark!”

He leveled you with narrowed eyes and stated factually, “I can’t kill you. Killing you negates the contract. That includes putting you in any imminently dangerous situations, so don’t try it.”

Finally, you found the power to stand and glared up at him through tears.

“Can’t you break the rules, just this once?! I give you permission to keep my soul after I die if you do it! I just- I can’t take this anymore! Maybe you don’t understand it because you all Mr. Powerful Demon but I’m so fucking tired. I’m tired of being alone! I’m tired of hurting when there’s literally nothing wrong! I’m tired of not being able to do a damn thing to make it better or change anything or- or-”

You fell into a messy pile of limbs and blankets on the bed, wrapping yourself up as best as possible, sobbing into your hands to keep a modicum of your dignity intact. Much to your surprise, you felt fingers brush against your hair as sharp nails began to massage through your strands.

“I must say, you’re definitely one of my more interesting clients,” he hummed lowly, “Even so, I’m unable to bend the rules, even for you. There’s a lot at play here that you’ll never understand but the short of it is that even I do not play with Death’s dealings, darling.”

As he spoke, you could feel the first peek of daylight glimmering through the shadows of your mind. Whether it was from his odd praise or the sensations his fingers were provoking, you weren’t sure, but it was nice. Ever so slowly, you found yourself leaning into his touch, chasing the dopamine rush he provided.

He let out a humored chuckle as you nearly fell off the bed in the pursuit and you could only manage a subdued apology in reply.

“Don’t apologize for being adorable, pet,” he teased.

Cheeks warming harshly under the sudden pet name, you buried your face in your hands and groaned slightly.

“Now that that’s sorted, I will leave you be. When you’re ready to make your last wish, you know how to reach me.”

There was a strange catch in his voice that you couldn’t quite place but it was enough to put you into action.

“Wait!” you called out when he turned away.

Carefully wiping the tears from your face, you stood up and took a steadying breath before reaching out to him. It was such a simple request but you could see the curiosity and confusion plain on his face. Nonetheless, he took your hand and allowed you to pull him in close. It had been so long since you’d even held someone else’s hand. More of the demons in the back of your mind were backing down, the sudden influx of serotonin of skin-to-skin contact turning them away.

“Okay, I get it, you can’t kill me,” you murmured, licking your lips nervously, “But you said you find me… interesting, right? Erm, do you think you would be able to do something else for me instead?”

It was like you had flipped a switch, the way his eyes clouded over with the devious smirk that curled up his lips and how his head tipped to the side in obvious inquiry.

“I’ll need you to be more clear on what you’re asking for, pretty little pet,” he cajoled, “It would be quite remiss of me to act without being completely sure what you want from me.”

Oh, the asshole! He was going to make you say it out loud! It was obvious in his gaze that he knew he had all the power here, in every sense of the word, and he was using it to his advantage… and you couldn’t deny that you loved it.

Face hot with mortification, you chewed on your lower lip before whispering, “I- I can’t. I can’t ask.”

Fangs peeked out in a grin as he leaned down, tipping your head up until you were nose to nose with him.

“Do you want me to kiss you? Touch you? Fuck you?”

Gods, he made it sound so dirty, so sensual. Shivers rolled through your bones as he teased the apex of your jaw and throat with his sharp claws.

“I need to know.”

You gathered every last drop of confidence and finally stammered out, “Fu-Fuck me, please?”

“With pleasure, darling,” he hummed softly, “But first…”

Fingers tangled in your locks once more, jerking your head back and his mouth slammed against yours. A choked sob passed from your mouth to his as he guided you back onto the bed, following with the grace and ease only an inhuman being could manage.

“If it gets too intense, just tell me to stop,” he breathed out as his lips fell to your jaw, “It’s been some time since I’ve allowed myself to indulge with a human and you are just so damn breakable.”

A sick thrill shot through your body at the warning. Why did a part of you want that? It was terrifying, thinking of a demon losing themselves and going feral on you, and yet it sounded so deliciously taboo.

“Okay,” you finally replied when you realized he was waiting for an answer, “I will.”

“Good girl.”

Oh. OH. It felt like all the air left your lungs and you couldn’t stop the tiny little noise that escaped your lips in embarrassment and desire.

His lips curved up against your throat as they slowly moved. Nibbles and kisses blazed a path up the sensitive column of your neck until teeth toyed with your ear lobe and he let out a little chuckle.

“You are going to be so much fun, pet.”

Your hands found his hair and held on for dear life as his fangs dug into your neck; not deep enough to draw blood but rough enough to tear a pained scream from your lips. Throbbing agony blossomed through your skin and still, you found your body arching into his, silently eager for more of what he could give you. Oh and the endorphin rush! The moment he released your abused flesh, it was like your body was on fire.

Moving without thought, you guided him by the hair into a frantic kiss, hoping to convey your need without words. Thankfully he didn’t seem offended by your little takeover of power and allowed you to soak in all you needed until he finally put a stop to it with a nibble on your lower lip.

“Enough, it’s time to prove that you really want this, darling,” Dark purred as his fingers dug into your cheeks symbolically.

You nodded the best you could and followed his lead as he pulled you to your feet. With a snap of his fingers, suddenly his clothes were gone and you were left staring at him in awe. While he looked incredible in the suit, it did a complete disservice to the glorious form hidden beneath. Black tattooed tendrils encircled his arms and legs, tapering out somewhere on his back, creating the most tantalizing contrast of shades against his toned limbs as he flexed them teasingly.

As your eyes traced the designs down his solid form, he suddenly gripped your shoulders and pushed you down onto your knees, tossing one of your pillows down after.

“If you’re going to worship me in such a way, you might as well do it from in your rightful place on your knees,” he purred.

Lips parting in surprise, you felt your insides curl up with embarrassment as you slipped the pillow under your knees and nearly apologized, but then he was stepping closer and you lost all thought.

Fuck, was he ever right; It was akin to staring up at a god! Not only were you given the best view of his body, but the way he stared down at you with desire and complete superiority had you trembling with need.

“Now, show me what that pretty mouth can do, pet.”

Oh, that, that you could do. Scooting in closer, you reached out to grab his cock but your hand was smacked away instantly. It stung more than hurt but it was surprising nonetheless.

“What-”

“Hands behind your back,” he demanded.

Cautiously, you did as he asked and were rewarded with a much softer smile.

“Good girl.”

Those words again. It was like they had a direct line to your cunt. Clenching needily around nothing, you let out a soft whine and let him pull you back in. As his cock neared your lips, you were finally given the chance to look it over closely. Despite being only half-hard, he appeared average length and a bit thicker than most you’d encountered. It was also darker than the rest of his skin but what set it apart the most was the ridges encircling it. Every inch or so down his cock were these ridges, smooth but creating quite an obvious size difference.

As you pondered over the way it would feel inside you, you let your tongue tentatively trace the tip and moaned at the familiar taste. He let out an encouraging sigh and tightened his hold, subtly pulling you closer until you threw away hesitation and took him in your mouth as far as possible.

“Mmmm, that’s it pet,” he praised huskily, “Get me ready to fuck you.”

Clenching your thighs in hopes of relief, you shifted higher onto your knees and followed the pace he set. Another difference you began to notice was the massive vein on the underside of his cock, the way it throbbed against your tongue with every swipe quickly became an addicting sensation. It was like his body was praising your efforts in its own way.

“Take a breath,” he warned.

You barely got a lungful in before he arched into your face, hastily fighting back the urge to gag as he slid into your throat. Tears welled up in your eyes as saliva pooled in your mouth. You were mortified as both spilled out the instant he began to fuck your mouth. Embarrassing noises escaped your throat, far beyond your control with each thrust of his cock, but it didn’t seem to bother him one bit.

“Look at you,” he rumbled out huskily, “What a good little pet you are, swallowing my cock like you were made for it.”

As suddenly as he had started he stopped, releasing his hold on you so fast you nearly toppled over as you coughed for breath.

“Impressive, now get up here.”

Once you felt you were stable enough, you climbed to your feet with his assistance and were immediately thrown back on the bed. As your skin rubbed against the cool sheets, you were suddenly made aware of your lack of clothes.

He apparently sensed the shock in your expression and offered you a sly grin.

“What can I say, pet? There are some things I am impatient over.”

Dark kneeled on the bed and gripped your ankles, spreading your legs so he could easily fit between them. Rather than climb over you as you had expected, he instead traced gentle lines up and down your legs, slowly bit by bit growing closer and closer to your cunt but never actually touching. It was maddening. You could feel yourself quaking and twitching uncontrollably under every pass of his claws; your silent pleas coming out louder and louder each time until you were nearly sobbing with need. Teeth soon joined in the effort, searing bite marks into the meaty parts of your thighs while his tongue lavished the wounds fondly after.

“I haven’t even touched you and you’re dripping wet for me,” he groaned quietly as he traced the crease between your sex and thigh, “Imagine what a mess you’ll be once I’m finally inside you.”

Desperation tore from your chest in the form of a whimper at the mental images burning in your mind. Your heart nearly flipped on itself in pleasure as he finally moved up the bed.

“You look like you’re struggling, darling,” he teased, “Is there something you need?”

You nodded frantically and whimpered out, “Please!”

Tantalizing shocks ran through your core as his fingers oh-so-tenderly ran over your lips, ghosting just where you needed him the most. Frustration began to well up like the sweat beading your forehead and you couldn’t help the huff that escaped.

“Tell me that you need to be used,” he breathed, ghosting sharp canines along your throat, “And I’ll give you what you want.”

“I- I need to be used,” you gasped out.

His responding moan was pure ecstasy as his fingers finally found your clit; the way his cock twitched again your leg an overwhelming aphrodisiac. The scrape of his facial hair prickled against your chest as his head ducked down and his lips pressed chaste kisses along your breasts. Swallowing hard, you bit back the overwhelming urge to demand him for more and were rewarded with the gratifying sensation of his tongue across your nipple. Pain and pleasure coalesced into one as he mercilessly sucked and bit into your flesh, drawing louder and faster moans from your chest by the second. When he finally pulled off with a pop, your entire body felt the bombardment of endorphins.

“And who do you want to use you?”

Pride shone through his playful teasing as you attempted and failed to whimper his name multiple times, ruined over and over again with each pass over your clit.

“Hmm? I can’t seem to understand you. Who do you want to ruin you?”

Thighs shaking and heart pounding, you fought through the onslaught of pleasure coiling in your belly to gasp out, “You, Dark! Please, fuck- fuck me!”

It was too much, not enough: The ache in your throat, the rawness of your lips, the imprints of his teeth burned in your flesh, the throb of your cunt under his fingers.

When he finally slipped his fingers in your core, you cried out. Relief! It didn’t take more than a few seconds for his stretching and thrusting to put you right on the edge of no return. Unfortunately, he jerked away before you could fall and, before you could even complain, you were tossed over onto your stomach with a sharp slap to your right cheek.

“Perk that pretty ass up for me, pet,” he demanded, gently guiding your hips up.

As you came to rest on your knees, you let your face rest on the pillow and arched your back until you could feel his cock brush against your cunt. Instinctively you pushed back against him with a little moan and were immediately rewarded with fingers to your clit.

But… his hands were on your hips…

“How-?”

When you stilled in thought, he let out a husky chuckle behind you.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he crooned lowly, “Sometimes they just have a mind of their own.”

Lifting up just enough to peek under your body, you were both startled and aroused to find black shadow-like tentacles where you expected fingers to be, and in turn, his legs were now free of those pretty tattoos. Realization hit hard and a pathetic moan fled your lips as you buried your face in the pillow.

“Glad to see you approve, darling.”

In the next breath, he slammed forward and yanked you back simultaneously. You were immensely grateful that he had taken the time to prep you as he sunk in, inch by inch, stretching you open like none ever had before. A wicked thrill sent a tremor through your body as you realized you could feel each and every ridge as it pushed into you.

When his hips finally came to a stop against yours, the noise he let out had your hair standing on end. Animalistic, inhuman, primal. You wanted to hear it time and time again.

He finally started rocking his hips, taking his time with deliciously languid strokes, until you begged him for more. It was with a cruel laugh that he gave into your desires.

“Oh fuck!” you whined, fingers snarling in the blankets for balance.

There was no more hesitation in his movements, gentleness abandoned in exchange for all-out fucking you in a way that made your toes curl and tears fill your eyes.

“You are so fucking wet,” he snarled out between breaths, “Taking me so well.”

A noise of agreement escaped your lips as you arched back to meet his thrusts. You couldn’t form words even if you wanted to, too focused on the raging storm brewing in your core.

Pain blossomed through your hip as one of his hands squeezed tighter, his growls and panting growing in volume to rival your cries, while the other found your hair and yanked your head back. Your body reacted instinctively, clenching down hard around him and startling a moan from you both.

“You feel so good! You going to come for me, pet?”

Reaching back, your hand found his and your nails found purchase, returning a sliver of the savage pain he bestowed upon you. All the while you bounced back harder on his cock, chasing the edge that was just out of reach. The tendrils between your thighs suddenly came back to life once more, their cool touch contrasting so perfectly with the heat of your bodies as they swirled around your clit in time with his thrusts.

“A-Ah! Dark, yes, pleeaaasse! Fuck- Fuck!”

“That’s it. That’s my good girl. Come for me and let me claim you, pet.

As if mimicking the hold on your hip, another tendril slithered up your back and encircled your throat. The unexpected pressure elicited a tantalizing response, your body suddenly feeling both free and trapped in the best of ways as he bound you to him

“Mine. All mine. My filthy little slutty human whore.”

Something in your psyche broke at those words and ecstasy rushed forward like a tidal wave. Every inch of your body trembled with pleasure as you screamed his name, voice cracking under the duress of it all. You could feel the proof of your indulgence dripping down your inner thighs, the sounds of your debauched pleasure growing louder with every slap of his hips against yours.

“Fucking hell!” Dark bit out harshly, “Good girl. Good fucking slut. Who do you belong to?! Say it!”

“You! Only you, Dark! O-Ooh, f-ffu-fuck!”

With inhuman speed, he slammed into you, over and over until the smack of your bodies was almost continuous. His choked roar filtered through your senses but it was was easily washed away with your second climax teetering on the edge. There was a sudden torrential shift of energy, pulsing eerie screeches filling the room as his voice echoed off the walls when he finally buried himself as far as possible inside of you. Any pain was quickly washed away by the thunderous roll of pleasure brought on by the touch of his tendrils mixed with the throb of his cock releasing deep in your cunt. Claws trailed down your spine as he practically purred your name, leaving behind five raw lines that stung under the combined sweat of your bodies, and somehow you found yourself okay with it; loved it, in fact, knowing that his marks would be on you for quite some time.

Quaking with bliss and exhaustion, you collapsed to the bed the instant he slipped out of your core and let out a little delighted whimper. You reached out blindly for him and were appeased when he laid down beside you, pulling you against him so your face was resting on his chest.

“I didn’t realize how much I needed that,” you murmured, fingers tracing up and down the little scar in his abdomen, “It goes without saying but that was fucking phenomenal, so thank you.”

Your head bobbed up and down with his laughter and you couldn’t help the grin that turned up your lips in return.

“I have to say I’m in agreement, pet,” he hummed back, “It’s been far too long since I’ve been able to let go in such a way.”

With a hand on your bicep and the arm under your head, he pulled you up and shifted you over his hips until you were perched on quaking knees. You almost questioned him but were silenced when he leaned up and captured your lips in a stinging kiss. It started out rough and slowly devolved into a passionate tangle of tongues.

It wasn’t until he pulled back for a breath that the reality of what was to happen started to sink in; the serotonin in your veins being replaced with anxiety.

“So, does this mean I die now? You have to take my soul, right?” you asked softly, “Since I made my last wish?”

“Hmm? I never heard you make a wish, pet,” he replied as he stretched back languidly.

Eyebrows furrowing, you let your confused expression convey your thoughts as one of his hands began to travel down your curves.

“But I asked-”

Your words were cut off by your own gasp when you felt his cock rising between your thighs. Wide-eyed and warm-faced, you gaped at him in shock. Apparently, a very short cool down period was also a demon perk?!

He smirked at your awe as a thumb traced your lower lip seductively.

“You asked and I gave freely,” he explained, fingers dipping to trace sharp claws along your throat, “You still have one wish remaining. Although, I’d suggest you save it for later. I feel like we have much more important things to attend at the moment, darling.”

[ultralovedeluxe]

Yan! Wamuu with prompts #20 and #23

This was requested by the lovely @teachillvibes, thank you so much for requesting! Hopefully this came out nicely ^^

‘I can’t live without you anymore!’

‘Please don’t scream at me like that. You know how much it hurts me’

Warnings: Naga Au, yandere behaviors, kidnapping, masturbation, nsfw, hypnosis(but not really), non/dub con, badly written

  It almost felt like an eternity.

 You don’t even remember when he took you. One day you were having a good time with your husband and friends, next you were getting abducted by a monster you regret befriending. But should that be your fault? Maybe. After all your husband always warned you to stay away from nagas. Even now, you wish you had listened to your husband’s words. Nagas were not creatures to be messed with. You wished you had just gotten ridden of the thought that, maybe, just maybe, some nagas were friendly and kind-hearted. You were delusional enough to believe that this one was different. That this one wouldn’t hurt you. Unfortunately, nagas were dangerous and feral creatures, and you were just delusional.

 “[first], I have returned, I brought the sea urchins you love so much”

  He was here. The monster that claimed to be your ‘mate’ was here. The only true moments of happiness you felt in your imprisonment was when he was gone. Because in that small amount of time, you would think about how your husband was doing. Was he happy without you? Or was he looking for you? You could never be sure. Letting out a deep sigh, you look behind you to see the naga that had kept you here. The sight of him no longer brought the same comfort it used to have. Now you truly began to see the horror behind his appearance.

He was a man, or atleast had the appearance of a man from head to his torso. The rest of his body is what made him threatening to you. Below his "human" appearance, the Naga Wamuu had the body of a snake. He was far larger than you, far larger than any human for that matter.

Sometimes you wondered if he'd eat you, or if he'd feed you to more of his kind. But no, you knew what Wammu wanted from you. You knew exactly why he was keeping you in this position. And quite frankly, maybe the thought of him eating you wasn't so bad.

You didn't even feel Wammu's tail wrap itself around you. You felt disgust rush through your body as the naga left passionate, but almost impatient kisses on your temples.

"Dear pet, I can't bear the thought of staying alive without you anymore. But please, enlighten me, why do you seem so displeased with my touches? Am I not enough for you?" Wamuu asked as his grip on you tightened.

Was he humoring you? Was this an actual, genuine question? And here you are thinking you were the delusional one.

You wanted to spit in his face and yell at him for all the things he's done to you. For taking you away from your village, for forcing you to live in this hell he calls your home. But in fear of angering the naga, you stay silent. However, you still needed to answer his question, because he would get mad regardless.

"Wam- I mean, dear, I'm just not in the mood to be held by you. That's all.." you said, quickly correcting your mistake. Ever since he had captured you, he had forced you to call him pet names to satisfy his deranged fantasy he had with you. Acting as if you two had been lovers for years, as if you had always been the little human house-wife he could come back to after hunting.

 Wammu hummed in understandment, but you knew he didn’t understand. In fact if he truly understood you he would have let you go already. Let you live outside this dull, dark cave and allow you to return to your village. You snapped out of your thoughts as Wammu began planting small kisses on your neck once again. Oh gods..you only hoped Wammu didn’t want to ‘treat’ you tonight. This was usually always a sign when he wanted something, or wanted to give you a treat for being ‘such a good little human’. You remember all the times he had made you gag on his monstrous cock, and then forcing you to swallow his semen as a reward. You tolerated his physical gifts a lot more, because you can’t exactly gag on glorious jewels he had gifted you over the course of staying here. 

 Wammu pressed his lips against you once again, completely savoring the feeling of your dried lips against his. You looked so adorable when you were obidient, he was glad that you weren’t causing any trouble or trying to escape. “My dearest [first] , I will be heading out tonight for some errands, stay inside and don’t let anybody in unless it’s Kars, you know I trust you.. If you are good tonight, I’ll spoil you like the queen you are” he said, unwrapping himself around you. His larger body towered over you, so you simply nodded. The naga leaned towards your face and kissed you again, and you kissed back while carressing his face softly; just as he liked. 

 “I’ll see you soon”

--

 You were bored out of your mind. One of the reasons you hated this cave was because there was no color to brighten up the mood or anything to do. You would just sit around and ponder, until Wammu came back. Maybe you could rearrange your jewels again, just like last time. Maybe you could organize them by shape instead of color, who knows. Maybe Wammu would bring you something to enteratin yourself today. A sewing kit or a painting canvas would be nice. Your thoughts soon drifted off to think about your husband. You missed how his sapphire blue eyes would look in the sun. Oh how you missed tangling your hands in his soft, blonde hair. It was always so soft and wavy, you wondered how he would look like with his hair down. You missed they way he would teasingly hold onto your hips until you gave him a kiss, or whenever he would kiss your chest without holding back. 

 Before you knew it, your pants were gone. You were spread out on the bed Wammu had gifted you when you had ‘obeyed’ his wishes. Your hand had gone down to touch your throbbing clit, and it felt amazing. How long have you been neglecting yourself? You didn’t remember, but for now you just wanted to enjoy this time you had for yourself before Wammu came back. 

 You rubbed your clit slowly with a gentle force. Those small movements were enough to have you whimpering out softly. It just felt so good. To finally touch yourself after weeks of being away from your loved one. You imagined it was your husband prepping you up, so you could easily take him in. You imagined the gentle tone in his voice, constantly praising you throughout your session. He was always so gentle and sweet, but at the same time he was dirty and rough when he wanted to be. Your hand movements became desperate, moving your hips in order to gain some friction. 

 “Hn, Caesar..please-”

 You couldn’t help but to moan out your husband’s name. In fact you did it several times. You wanted to see him again, you wanted to leave this place so you could feel safe again-

 “How dare you think of another man while I’m gone!” 

 You quickly reached over to grab covers, but Wammu didn’t let you; as he had already made his way over to you. You had never seen Wammu this angry before. Sure he has given you his fair share of punishments, but he always kept a poker face. At the moment, anger was clearly visible on his face, and he wasn’t afraid of showing it. 

“Wammu please! I’m sorry! I won’t ever do it again!” you knew it was useless, but trying to plead with him wouldn’t hurt, right? (yes it would, you knew you were in danger, and that there’s no escaping your punishment). Wammu grabbed you by the hair and lifted you up like you were a piece of paper. “Put me down! Please Wammu don’t do this!”

 Instead of hitting you as you first assumed, Wammu placed a rough kiss on your lips. “Please don’t scream at me like that darling, you know how much it hurts me. But your actions have consequences..” While all you could do was look at him in fear, Wammu then proceeded to slap your throbbing clit. “Seems to me you don’t need me to prep you up. You can take both of my cocks well, right pet? After this you will never think of a man other than me ever again”

 Before you knew it, you had lost control of yourself.

--

 The cave you were in was filled with despair and the occasional shimmer from your jewels. Currently, the cave you were in was filled with the hot sounds of Wammu’s twin cocks slamming against your already wet sex. His pace was rough, without any pauses in between. Your moans and pleas were nothing but music to Wammu’s ears. He enjoyed how easily you stopped complaining and fell into the pleasure he could give you.  As for you, the only things you could hear were Wammu’s grunts into your ear, along with the clapping of your sex against his. 

 “Ah Wammu please go slower!” you whined, but Wammu did the complete opposite. He went just a tad bit slower, but made his pace rougher than it was before. “I’m afraid I can’t do that pet. Do you love me? Do you enjoy what we’re doing?” he asked while thrusting himself in you, while at the same time rubbing your clit with a gentle amount of force.

 “Yes! Wammu please let me cum!” you moaned out. Never in your life did you think you’d be ravished by a monstrous man. Wammuu hummed in amusement as he slowed his pace and bit your neck softly, “Then say my name pet, who can make you feel this way?”. You were at your climax, “You Wammu! You’re the only one I swear!-” you whined as you came on Wammu’s cocks.

 Wammu laid you down on your bed, “Now pet, who is your one true love?”. You could barely open your eyes, “Cae- you Wammu..” you whispered, clearly still tired from your 'love' making session.

 “Guess we’ll have to try again..”