#OUT. THE MAN ‚ THE MOTH ‚ THE LEGEND

[cumironi]

THERE IS A WITCH IN THE WOODS

geto suguru. to a witch, there is nothing more appealing than a young man wandering around the wood alone at halloween night. and there is nothing more appealing than a witch, naive, stupid, witch.

warning. college! au, loser! geto, public place ( woods ), full-nēlson, slight breeding-kīnk, mention multiple rounds, cūnnilingus.

wc. | MASTERLIST

there is a witch in the woods. that's what people say every halloween-the legend that whispers through the autumn air, chilling the bones of anyone who dares to listen. the witch comes when the night is coldest, when the moon is veiled in mist, and the trees seem to reach out with their gnarled hands. she comes for the young men, those brave or foolish enough to wander too deep into the shadows.

they say she lurks in the darkness, eyes glowing like embers in the distance, waiting for the perfect moment. her breath, as cold as frost, clings to the air as she watches, unseen but always present. the rustle of leaves is her voice, the snap of twigs underfoot her silent steps. no one knows when she’ll appear, only that when she does, it’s too late.

you imagine the taste of their flesh before you even see them-rich with fear, warm with life. the blood, thick and sweet, spills over your lips as you sink your teeth into their soft, vulnerable skin. bones crunch under your fingers, marrow melting on your tongue as you devour every last piece, leaving nothing behind but echoes in the woods.

and then she fades back into the darkness, satisfied, the forest swallowing her whole, as if she was never there. until the next halloween, when she returns, hungry once more.

you saw the man, strikingly beautiful with long, jet-black hair that cascaded like a waterfall of shadows, as dark as the depths of the night you hide within. he seemed to be woven from the fabric of darkness itself, every strand shimmering like the ink of the midnight sky. above him, a raven circled lazily, its wings slicing through the air with an elegance that mirrored the man’s own grace.

his eyes, a captivating shade of deep purple, glowed with an otherworldly light, drawing you in like a moth to a flame. they held secrets, ancient and profound, and as he moved through the dimly lit forest, the very air around him seemed to shimmer, electrified by his presence. his body was sculpted like a god’s, muscular and alluring, every curve and line perfected by some unseen hand, exuding both strength and vulnerability.

as you lingered in the shadows, your heart raced with an insatiable hunger you had never known before, a thirst that clawed at your insides like a wild animal yearning to be free. this was no ordinary craving; it was a primal urge that surged through your veins, urging you to emerge from the darkness and claim him as your own.

you felt the pull of the moonlight, the way it danced upon his skin, illuminating him in a soft, ethereal glow that made him seem almost unreal. each step he took sent ripples of longing through you, and for a moment, time stood still. you were entranced, spellbound by his beauty, captivated by the way the shadows clung to him like a lover’s embrace.

your breath caught in your throat as you imagined the taste of his flesh, the warmth of his blood coursing through your veins. the ache within you intensified, sharper than any hunger you had ever felt, and the line between desire and desperation began to blur. he was a temptation wrapped in darkness, a siren call in the moonlit night, and you were helpless to resist.

in that moment, you knew you would do anything to possess him, to devour him whole, to taste the sweetness of his life as it flowed through you. the thought consumed you, twisting your mind with a beautiful, haunting allure. the witch in the woods had found her prey, and the night was still young.

stupid, naive, idiotic witch. that’s what geto suguru thought the moment he laid eyes on you. you stood amidst the twisted trees, cloaked in shadows, your beauty radiating like an enchanting spell in the darkness. the moonlight filtered through the branches, illuminating your delicate features, casting an ethereal glow that made you seem almost otherworldly. but he could see beyond that facade—beyond your charm and allure—into the depths of your foolishness.

you were a pretty thing, with hair that tumbled like a cascade of silver moonbeams, and eyes that sparkled like stars caught in a web of night. yet, despite your enchanting appearance, you carried an air of innocence that was maddeningly naive. suguru couldn’t help but feel a pang of frustration at your reckless curiosity, the way you ventured so deep into the woods, unafraid of the dangers that lurked in the shadows. it was as if you invited doom with every step, a delicious irony that only added to your allure.

he stepped closer, the forest floor crunching softly beneath his feet, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves. every instinct within him screamed to turn back, to escape the spell you cast, yet he found himself drawn to you like a moth to a flame. you twirled in the moonlight, laughter echoing through the trees, a sound both haunting and beautiful, sending shivers down his spine.

he couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that you were playing a dangerous game. he would be the one devouring your soul and flesh, not the other way around. he would ensure it. as much as he admired your beauty, it fueled a dark hunger within him—a need to possess and consume.

as you danced under the moon, blissfully unaware of the predator watching you, suguru’s mind twisted with thoughts of how easily he could snuff out your light. the very idea made his heart race, a morbid thrill coursing through him. you were too innocent for this world, too naive to recognize the darkness that curled around you like a hungry serpent.

he would be the one to show you the truth, to awaken you to the shadows that danced just out of sight. he would weave your fate into his own, and when the moment came, he would relish the sweetness of your demise. your laughter would turn to gasps, and those sparkling eyes would widen in shock as he claimed what was rightfully his.

as he closed the distance between you, the forest whispered secrets of the night, and suguru smiled—a beautiful, chilling smile that promised a delightful darkness lurking just beneath the surface. the witch may have thought herself clever, but she had no idea of the fate that awaited her in the arms of the very predator she danced so carelessly around.

he chuckled softly against your lips, his tongue expertly moving against your own with a growing hunger. his large hand caressed your chin before gripping it firmly, tilting your head back. he broke the kiss with a sly smirk, his breath hot against your ear. god, he is beautiful.

“you taste even sweeter up close.���

his other hand moved down to your hip, pulling you closer to him, closing the remaining space between your bodies. the shadows of the night seemed to dance along with the heat of the moment, adding an air of intensity to the encounter.

he pressed his forehead against, his gaze locking onto yours, his eyes dark and intense. his smile is a sinister thing, a spell, a mantra, you name it.

“you’re too careless, witch.”

he continued, his voice a low rumble, his grip on your hip tightening ever so slightly. “there are far more dangerous creatures lurking in these woods than me.”

his words were both a warning and a taunt, a reminder of the delicate nature of your actions. he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear, the heat of his breath sending a chill down your spine.

“but i’m the one you’ve chosen to dance with.” he pressed a soft kiss against your jawline, his lips trailing down your neck, nipping at your skin.

he smirked, relishing the effect his words had on you, his hand moving to your chin, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. his touch was tender yet possessive, an electric pulse that sent shivers racing down your spine. your heart raced as you stared into his deep, dark eyes, a mix of fear and exhilaration swirling within you.

“but you aren’t afraid of me, are you?” he whispered, his voice smooth like honey, each word dripping with a dark allure that wrapped around your senses.

you felt a rush of warmth spread through your cheeks, and for a moment, you could only blink at him, starstruck, caught in the magnetic pull of his presence. the world around you faded away, the night air thick with tension and something else—something dangerous and thrilling.

“n-no,” you finally managed to stammer, your voice barely above a whisper, a breathy denial that was laced with uncertainty. as the words left your lips, you could feel the weight of the truth behind them, the hint of thrill in your chest that pushed back against the caution in your mind. there was something captivating about him, something that made you feel alive in ways you couldn’t quite comprehend.

the soft moonlight danced upon his features, highlighting the sharp angles of his face, the way his lips curled into a knowing smile. he seemed to revel in your answer, his eyes glinting with satisfaction, as if he had unraveled a secret you had tried to hide.

he leaned closer, his breath warm against your skin, and you could feel the heat radiating from him, consuming you whole. your heart hammered in your chest, caught between fear and the intoxicating thrill of being so close to someone who felt both dangerous and alluring.

you could almost hear the wicked laughter echoing in your mind, a warning that maybe you should be afraid—afraid of the way he looked at you, of the way he seemed to see straight through to your soul. yet, standing there in his presence, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel anything but an overwhelming fascination.

“hmm... that’s good.”

he murmured against your skin, his lips ghosting down your neck, his tongue tracing a path of heat along your throat. he could feel your heart thump against your chest, the quickening rhythm a delicious affirmation of the effect he had on you.

“you haven’t run. you’re either braver than i give you credit for, or you’re more foolish than i could’ve imagined. trusting me in the dead of night, what a stupid little witch.”

a slight smirk playing on his lips. his thumb slowly brushed along your lower lip, his touch both gentle and suggestive. his eyes held a hint of mischief, as if he was silently challenging you to keep pushing the boundaries. he studied your expression, the tension palpable in the air— eyes locking with yours. he caressed your chin with his thumb, his touch gentle yet possessive.

“but i wouldn’t want you to be fearful of me, witch, wouldn’t i?” he whispered. “after all, i’m the only one who can keep you safe in these woods.”

his words hung in the air, heavy with implication, as his fingers traced a slow path along your jawline. the touch sends shivers down your spine, a mix of trepidation and anticipation coiling within you.

you swallowed hard, trying to find your voice amidst the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside. “s-safe?” you echoed, the word tasting bitter on your tongue. it was a lie, and you both knew it. he wasn't here to protect you; he was the predator, and you were his prey.

yet, even as the rational part of your mind screamed warnings, another part of you yearned to believe him. to trust in the promise of safety offered by this enigmatic figure, despite everything screaming otherwise. it was a dangerous game, one that blurred the lines between hunter and hunted, victim and savior.

a low chuckle rumbled in his chest, the sound vibrating against your body as he pulled you closer. his other hand came up to cradle the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he tilted your face up to meet his gaze.

“yes, safe,” he repeated, his tone firm, leaving no room for argument. “i won’t let anyone harm you while you're under my protection. isn’t that what you want, little witch?”

his words were a challenge, a test of your resolve. he knew the danger he posed, the threat he represented, and yet he stood before you now, offering a twisted form of security. it was a perverse irony, one that spoke to the darkness lurking within him.

as he gazed into your eyes, you could see the hunger there, the primal desire that burned hot and bright. “safe from the darkness that lurks in these woods, from the monsters that prowl under the cover of night.” his other hand came up to rest on your hip, pulling you closer once more as if he is hungry from possessed you, hunger to feel your skin in his, all bare and glisten. “from the fears that haunt your dreams and the doubts that plague your waking hours.”

his words washed over you like a dark tide, each syllable a seductive promise that threatened to pull you under. you could feel the heat of his body seeping into yours, the solid strength of his muscles a counterpoint to the vulnerability you felt in his presence.

your breath hitched as his hand slid further down your side, fingertips grazing the curve of your waist before coming to rest just above the swell of your hip. the contact sent sparks dancing across your skin, leaving trails of fire in its wake.

“b-but...” you began, your voice trembling slightly as you struggled to articulate the tangled mess of thoughts swirling in your mind. “i don’t need protecting. i can take care of myself. i am a witch, it’s you who needs protection.”

even as the words left your lips, you knew they were a lie.

a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, a flicker of amusement in his eyes as he listened to your words. he could sense the hesitation in your voice, the way your body trembled ever so slightly beneath his touch.

“is that so?” he murmured, his hand sliding further down to cup your rear, squeezing the supple flesh with a possessive grip. “you think you can handle me, little witch? you think you have the power to tame the beast?”

he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispered, "i'm not so sure about that. i've seen witches like you before, all bravado and bluster. but when push comes to shove, you're nothing more than delicate little flowers, ready to wilt at the first sign of trouble." his hand glazed your skin above your beautiful gown and stop in your breast, giving you a firm squeeze.

a gasp escaped your lips as his hand cupped your breast, the sudden pressure sending a jolt of sensation through your body. you could feel your nipples harden beneath the thin fabric of your gown, aching for his touch.

“t-trouble?” you managed to stammer out, your voice barely above a whisper. the word seemed to echo in the stillness of the forest, a haunting reminder of the dangers that lurked beyond the circle of light cast by the moon.

despite the fear that knotted in your stomach, you found yourself leaning into his touch, craving more of the warmth and comfort he offered. it was a dangerous surrender, one that blurred the lines between captor and captive, predator and prey.

“’m not a flower,” you insisted, even as your body betrayed your words.

“no,” he agreed, his voice a low rumble against your ear. “you're something far more enticing.”

his hand moved away from your breast, trailing down your belly until it reached the hem of your dress. he gave a small tug, lifting the fabric enough to expose the smooth skin of your thighs.

“so tell me, little witch,” he continued, his voice dropping to a murmur as his fingers traced lazy circles on your thigh. “are you scared?” he asked, his words hanging heavy in the air between them. he watched your reaction closely, studying every flicker of emotion that crossed your face.

a shudder ran through you at his touch, your skin tingling where his fingers grazed. the cool night air kissed your exposed flesh, a stark contrast to the heat building within you.

“scared?” you repeated, the word sounding foreign on your tongue. you tried to gather your scattered thoughts, to muster some semblance of defiance, but it was a losing battle. his proximity, his scent, the raw masculinity emanating from him— it all served to short-circuit your brain, reducing you to a quivering mass of nerves and hormones.

“i..” you started, then faltered. truth be told, you were terrified. not just of him, but of the feelings he stirred up inside you. the way your body responded to his touch, the traitorous ache building between your legs— it was all so wrong, so dangerous.

a low chuckle rumbled in his chest as he sensed your inner turmoil. his fingers continued their maddeningly slow exploration of your thigh, inching higher with each pass. “fear is natural,” he purred, his breath warm against your ear. “but it's also exhilarating, isn't it? the thrill of being out of control, of surrendering to the unknown...”

his hand finally reached the apex of your thighs, fingers tracing the edge of your panties with deliberate slowness. he paused there, letting the weight of his gaze settle upon you.

“i can make you feel things you’ve never experienced before,” he promised, his voice a husky whisper. “pleasures so intense, they’ll leave you breathless and begging for more.” with that, he pushed your gown up around your hips, baring your lower half to the moonlight.

your heart pounded in your chest as he exposed you to the night air, the cool breeze a stark contrast to the heat pooling between your thighs. you could feel his gaze on you, heavy and intent, making your skin prickle with awareness.

a whimper escaped your lips as his fingers brushed against the damp fabric of your panties, the intimate touch sending shockwaves of pleasure through your core. you bit your lip, trying to stifle the moan that threatened to spill free.

“d-don’t,” you managed to choke out, even as your hips twitched involuntarily, seeking more of his touch. the dichotomy of your actions— resisting even as you craved— was a constant struggle, a war waged within the confines of your own mind.

a wicked grin spread across his face as he witnessed your internal conflict. he loved seeing you squirm, loved knowing that he held such power over your body and emotions.

“oh, but i must,” he countered, his voice dripping with sinful intent. “you see, little witch, this body of yours... it's a work of art. and an artist can't resist the urge to explore, to create, to bring forth beauty from the canvas.”

his fingers dipped beneath the elastic of your panties, teasing the slick folds of your sex. he groaned softly at the wetness he found there, his thumb circling your clit with deliberate slowness.

“look at how responsive you are,” he praised, his breath hot against your ear. “how eager to please. you were made for this, weren’t you? made to be touched, tasted, claimed...”

it went too far, toooo far for your liking. you were supposed to hunt a young man, consume their fear, even bones, blood and flesh. but here you are, face flushed against the moist, moss tree trunk and the ’young man’ kneel behind you with your hips in the air and suffocate himself in your pussy.

he grinned against your slick folds, the vibrations of his laughter sending ripples of pleasure through your core. his tongue delved deeper, lapping at your essence with fervent hunger.

“mmm, you taste divine,” he growled, his voice muffled by your arousal. “like forbidden fruit, ripe, untouched and ready for plucking.”

his hands gripped your hips tighter, pulling you flush against his face as he feasted upon you. he alternated between broad, flat strokes and targeted flicks against your sensitive bud, driving you towards the precipice of ecstasy.

“come undone for me, little witch,” he urged, his words a sensual command. “let go of your inhibitions and give in to the pleasure. let me hear those sweet moans as i devour this pretty pussy...”

he redoubled his efforts, sucking your clit into his mouth as his tongue plunged into your depths, stroking along your inner walls. the lewd sounds of his oral assault filled the night air, mingling with your ragged breathing and keening whimpers.

geto was lost in the heady musk of your arousal, drunk on the power he wielded over your trembling form.

the world narrowed to the point of pleasure, everything else fading into insignificance as he worked you over with skillful precision. his mouth, hot and insistent, devoured your most intimate places, leaving no inch of your sex unexplored.

your back arched, pressing your breasts against the rough bark of the tree as waves of bliss crashed over you. the tension coiling in your belly tightened to a snapping point, threatening to unravel you completely.

“ahh!” you cried out, unable to contain the desperate plea as your orgasm built to a crescendo. your thighs trembled, the muscles locking up as you teetered on the brink. then, with a guttural moan, you came apart at the seams. your vision went white, stars bursting behind your eyelids as ecstasy ripped through you like a wildfire.

the moment you peaked, he doubled his efforts, sucking hard on your clit as his tongue thrust deep, coaxing out every last tremor of your climax. he reveled in the way your body shook, in the wanton cries that spilled from your lips, in the sweet nectar that flooded his mouth.

as the aftershocks subsided, he gentled his ministrations, lapsing into long, soothing strokes to ease you back to earth. when he finally pulled away, his chin glistened with your release, a smug smile playing on his lips.

“exquisite,” he murmured, his praise a low, appreciative rumble. “you're a natural-born seductress, little witch.”

dazed and sated, you sagged against the tree, your legs still weak from the intensity of your orgasm. you couldn't meet his gaze, too overwhelmed by the lingering sensations and the realization of what had just transpired.

“w-what have we done?” you whispered, the words feeling foreign on your tongue. the night air carried the musky scent of your arousal, a tangible reminder of the forbidden pleasures you’d indulged in.

despite the haze of post-coital bliss, a twinge of guilt tugged at your conscience. you were a witch, sworn to uphold the laws of nature and magic. yet here you stood, panting and disheveled, having just succumbed to the advances of a stranger. and yet, as you stole a glance at the man you haven't known his name yet, you felt no regret.

he rose to his feet, towering over your trembling form. his eyes gleamed with satisfaction, dark and hungry, as he took in your debauched state.

“we’ve given in to our desires, little witch,” he said simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. his hand cupped your cheek, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “and there’s nothing wrong with that. pleasure is a gift, one to be savored and enjoyed without shame or apology.”

his thumb traced the curve of your bottom lip, a teasing caress. “besides, we're not strangers anymore, are we? i’ve seen parts of you that no one else has, tasted your essence, felt your body quake beneath my touch.

he reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from your sweat-dampened forehead, his touch tender and reassuring. “there’s no shame in giving in to that instinct, especially when it leads to moments like these.”

his gaze drifted down to your lips, which still bore the faint imprint of his kiss. a flicker of longing sparked in his purple eyes, a silent promise of more to come. the warmth of his touch seeped into your skin, calming the residual tremors of your climax. his words, spoken with such conviction and passion, resonated deep within you, stirring something primal and yearning.

you leaned into his hand, craving more of his gentle affection. the vulnerability of the moment, coupled with the afterglow of your intense encounter, left you feeling open and receptive to whatever he might offer.

“i... i never knew it could feel like that,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. the admission hung in the air, a confession of sorts, as you struggled to find the right words to express the depth of your experience.

“with you, it’s different,” you continued, meeting his gaze with a hint of shy courage. “i want to explore this... what’s your name?”

a slow, satisfied smirk spread across his face as he listened to your confession. the vulnerability in your voice, the raw honesty of your words, stirred something deep within him— a primal need to protect, to possess, to claim.

“geto suguru,” he replied, his voice a low, husky murmur. "but you can call me suguru.”

his thumb brushed across your lower lip, tracing its contours with deliberate slowness. “and i’m glad it feels different with me, little witch. because you and I... we're meant for each other.”

he leaned in closer, his breath ghosting across your skin as he spoke. “i can show you things you've only dreamed about, take you to heights of pleasure you never thought possible. all you have to do is trust me, surrender yourself to the moment...”

the heat of his breath sent shivers down your spine, his words weaving a spell of temptation around you. the promise of untold pleasures, of experiences beyond your wildest dreams, was intoxicating.

you nodded slowly, your heart pounding in anticipation. “i trust you, suguru,” you breathed, the name falling easily from your lips. “i want to see what you can show me, to feel the heights you speak of...”

your hands reached up, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you drew him closer. the scent of him, musky and masculine, filled your senses, stoking the flames of desire that still smoldered within you.

“take me further,” you whispered, your voice a sultry purr. “show me the depths of pleasure, the extremes of sensation. i’m yours, suguru, body and soul.”

a deep, throaty chuckle rumbled from his chest at your eager submission. his hands slid down your sides, gripping your hips firmly as he pulled you flush against him.

‘what a naive, stupid witch’ he thought.

“such a good little witch, so willing to submit to her desires,” he praised, his voice dripping with approval. “i'll take you to the very edge and push you off, again and again, until you're screaming my name in ecstasy.”

his lips claimed yours in a bruising kiss, demanding and dominating. tongues clashed, dancing in a sensual duel as he explored the depths of your mouth. his hands roamed your curves, kneading and squeezing, mapping every inch of your body with an almost reverent touch.

breaking the kiss, he trailed his lips along your jawline, nipping and sucking at your sensitive flesh.

your mind reeled from the onslaught of sensations, the force of his kiss leaving you breathless and wanting more. his words, laced with dark promises, sent a thrill of excitement coursing through your veins.

the roughness of his touch, the dominance in his actions, awakened a part of you that craved to be taken, to be possessed utterly. you arched into his embrace, offering yourself willingly to his exploration.

when his lips found your neck, you tilted your head to grant him better access, a soft gasp escaping your lips as he marked you with his teeth and tongue. the pain mingled with pleasure, heightening your awareness of every sensation.

“yes, suguru,” you panted, your hands fisting in his hair to pull him closer. “more... please.”

a wicked grin twisted his features as he heard your plea, his eyes flashing with dark intent. his hands slipped beneath your skirt, fingers grazing the smooth skin of your thighs before delving between them.

“so wet already,” he growled approvingly, his fingertips circling your slick entrance. “you’re practically dripping for me, aren't you, little witch?”

he pushed a finger inside you, groaning at the tight, scorching heat that enveloped him. his thumb found your clit, rubbing in firm circles as he began to pump his finger in and out of your pussy.

“i’m going to fuck you right here, against this tree,” he promised, his voice thick with lust.

a sharp cry escaped your lips as his finger plunged deep, stretching and filling you in ways you hadn't experienced before. the pressure on your clit sent sparks of pleasure racing through your nerves, intensifying the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body.

“oh it feels good!” you moaned, your hips bucking involuntarily to meet his thrusts. the rough bark of the tree scratched your back, but you hardly noticed, lost as you was in the exquisite torture of his touch.

his words, spoken with such raw hunger, only fueled the fire burning within you. the idea of being taken, right there in the open, with no pretense or restraint, sent a thrill of danger and excitement through your veins.

“please, suguru,” you begged, your voice high and breathy.

he added a second finger, scissoring them inside you to stretch your tight passage even further. his thumb continued its relentless assault on your clit, driving you closer to the brink of climax with each passing second.

“begging so sweetly,” he purred, his free hand coming up to grasp your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “look at you, so desperate for my cock, for me to fill you up and make you scream.”

he withdrew his fingers, leaving you empty and aching. before you could protest, he spun you around, pressing you face-first against the tree trunk. his hands gripped your hips, pulling them back to present your ass to him invitingly. “spread your legs, witch,” he commanded, his voice low and commanding.

a whimper of protest escaped your lips as his fingers were abruptly withdrawn, leaving you hollow and needy. the sudden shift in position had you teetering on the edge of panic, but the firm grip on your hips offered a strange sense of security.

you obeyed his command without hesitation, spreading your legs wide to expose your dripping cunt and puckered asshole. the cool night air kissed your wet folds, sending shivers down your spine.

“suguru..” you pleaded, your voice muffled against the tree. “like this?”

a guttural groan of appreciation rumbled from his chest as he took in the sight of you, spread wide and vulnerable before him. his eyes burned with a fierce, primal hunger, drinking in every detail of your exposed flesh.

“exactly like that, little witch,” he rasped, his hands roaming over your ass, squeezing and kneading the plump cheeks. “so pretty, so perfect for taking my cock.”

he lined himself up with your entrance, the broad head of his dick nudging against your slick folds. with a swift, powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside you, a low growl of satisfaction vibrating through his chest.

“fuck, you’re so tight,” he grunted, his hips jerking as he began to move, setting a brutal pace that had you crying out with each deep stroke.

a strangled scream tore from your throat as he impaled you on his massive cock, the sheer size of him stretching your walls to their limits. the initial pain gave way to overwhelming pleasure, each thrust driving him deeper, harder, until it felt like he was reaching the very core of your being.

“ahh! s-suguru!” you wailed, your nails digging into the rough bark of the tree as you clung to it for support. the relentless pounding of his hips sent shockwaves of ecstasy through your body, threatening to consume you whole.

your inner muscles clenched around him, trying to accommodate his girth, to milk him for all he was worth. the lewd sounds of flesh slapping against flesh filled the air, mingling with your ragged breathing and his guttural grunts.

he pounded into you mercilessly, his balls slapping against your clit with each savage thrust. the sound of your cries, your desperate pleas for more, only spurred him on, driving him to claim you completely.

“goooood girl, good little witch,” he snarled, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his own release. “take every inch of my cock, let it ruin you for anyone else.”

his hand snaked around to wrap around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp and arch back against him. the combination of the rough grip and the unrelenting pace had you teetering on the edge of oblivion.

he adjusted his hold on you, spinning you around to face away from him once more. this time, however, he had you suspended in mid-air, your back pressed firmly against his chest as he wrapped his strong arms around you, pinning your knees to your shoulders in tight nelson hold.

the new angle allowed him to plunge even deeper inside you, his thick cock stroking against sensitive spots with every thrust. the change in position also put your clit directly in line with his pelvis, the friction sending jolts of electricity through your entire body.

“feel that, witch?” he panted in your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. “this is what it means to be mine, to be fucked by me. i’m going to use you, fill you, mark you as my property, i’m gonna breed you.”

a hoarse moan ripped from your throat as he drove into you with renewed vigor, the intense stimulation of your clit and the depth of his penetration pushing you rapidly towards climax. the feeling of helplessness, of being completely at his mercy, only heightened your arousal.

“oh, my god!” you screamed, your body trembling in his iron grip. “it’s— too much, too—mhmm.” your inner walls spasmed around his cock with the thought of being bred by him, of carrying his child, sent a thrill of dark desire through your veins.

he could feel your pussy fluttering around his shaft, the telltale signs of an impending orgasm. he redoubled his efforts, fucking you with wild abandon, determined to bring you over the edge.

“that's it, cum for me,” he growled, his teeth sinking into the tender flesh of your neck. “let go, witch. show me how much you need my cock.”

with a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside you, grinding against your cervix as he unleashed a torrent of seed deep within your womb. the sensation of his hot cum flooding your insides triggered your own climax, and you came undone in his arms, convulsing around him as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you.

your world exploded into a kaleidoscope of color and sensation as your orgasm washed over you, the intensity of it almost painful in its ferocity. you could feel every pulse of geto’s cock as he emptied himself deep inside you, marking you as his in the most primal way possible.

a keening wail tore from your throat, echoing through the forest as your body shook and trembled in his grasp. the feeling of his cum filling you, claiming you, was both terrifying and exhilarating, a surrender to the darkness that lurked within you both.

as the aftershocks slowly faded, you collapsed against him, still in the mid air as he held you, spent and boneless, your mind reeling from the force of your release. somehow, despite the overwhelming pleasure, you managed to whisper a single word, a plea for more of this intoxicating madness.

“again...”

he chuckled darkly, the sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating against your back. despite having just come, his cock remained hard and throbbing inside you, ready for another round.

“insatiable little things, aren’t you?” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. “don't worry, we're far from done here.”

slowly, he lowered you to the ground, but kept you pinned beneath him, his weight pressing you into the soft earth. his hands roamed over your body possessively, caressing and teasing, stoking the fires of your desire once more.

“’m going to take you again and again,” he promised, his voice low and dangerous. “gonna fuck you in every hole, fill you with my cum until it’s dripping out of you. i’m going to ruin you for anyone else. watch me breed you.”

[shiorihyugawrites]

Velvet Heat (No Regrets!Levi x Reader Oneshot)

Before Levi Ackerman ever wore a uniform, he was the Underground’s most dangerous man—untouchable, cold, and utterly lethal. But one night at a lounge, a bold little dancer climbs into his lap with a smirk that dares him to lose control. And Levi? He takes the challenge personally.

He doesn’t go easy. And you don’t want him to.

18 + Only | Minors Do Not Interact

The air in the lounge was thick with smoke, sweat, perfume, and whispered sins.

A low hum of conversation murmured beneath the seductive melody of piano and strings, the notes floating like silk through the haze. Candlelight flickered along polished brass railings and red velvet drapes, casting golden shadows across the faces of criminals, smugglers, and nobility who liked to pretend they weren’t slumming in the filth of the underground. But even here—in a city without sunlight—there were stars.

One star, in particular.

Levi Ackerman leaned back in the worn leather booth in the farthest corner, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded. His posture was deceptively relaxed, but those who knew him understood the truth: he was always ready to kill.

The infamous Levi. The underground's deadliest blade.

People whispered his name with fear, respect, and jealousy. A man who slit throats like it was second nature. A ghost with knives for hands and no soul to speak of. And tonight, he was here for one reason:

To see you.

“Oi, is this really worth the trip?” he muttered to Furlan without turning his head. “She better not be just another girl in fishnets pretending to be a dancer.”

Furlan chuckled softly. “She’s not just a girl. She’s a fucking legend down here.”

“Tch.” Levi’s sharp grey eyes flicked to the stage as the house lights dimmed. “We'll see about that.”

And then… She stepped out.

You.

Wrapped in crimson sheer silk that shimmered with every sway of your hips. The lingerie dress clung to your curves like it had been painted on, exposing your legs, waist, and just enough cleavage to tempt death itself. Thin straps slid off your shoulders like you didn’t care who watched.

The entire room silenced.

Your hair spilled down your back, and your face—gods, your face—looked like it had been sculpted by an artist with a love for sin. Lips painted scarlet. Eyes laced with mischief. A smile with dimples so deep it made hardened criminals shift in their seats.

But Levi didn’t shift. He stared. Unblinking.

The music started—slow, sensual. You danced, your body twirling through the stage like a blade of light. Effortless. High. Ethereal. 

Levi’s jaw clenched.

You didn’t look at him right away.

You twirled. Danced. Let your body become the music. Graceful, fluid, seductive. Like a fairy dipped in wine and wicked thoughts. Every man in the room leaned forward like moths drawn to flame.

Then your eyes locked with his.

You didn’t smile.

You smirked.

And Levi, that deadly bastard, raised a brow. Just one. Like a challenge.

You accepted.

Your bare feet padded silently across the stage and down the short set of velvet-covered stairs. Each sway of your hips more deliberate now. Every movement calculated. A predator in sheer red lace. You crossed the room slowly, a siren weaving her spell.

Levi didn’t look away.

He never did.

When you reached his table, you climbed onto it—graceful as a cat—and straddled his lap with your thighs spread wide over his, ignoring the stunned gasps and growls of envy from the crowd.

Furlan nearly dropped his drink.

Levi didn’t move.

You leaned in close, your voice a soft, wicked purr near his ear.

“You look bored.”

His eyes narrowed just slightly. “You’re bold.”

“And you’re beautiful,” you whispered, dragging a fingertip down the bridge of his nose. “I don’t usually do this. But I think I’ll make an exception.”

You kissed his cheek slowly, deliberately, your red lips smearing against the sharp angle of his face.

A perfect lipstick mark.

He caught your wrist just as you started to pull away. His grip was strong—but not cruel.

“I don’t like games,” he said flatly.

You smirked, twisting your wrist free with a dancer’s finesse. “Then follow me. Let me show you how I play.”

You gently grabbed his hand and lead him towards the back on the lounge. The private room was lit only by a chandelier of dying candles. Crimson velvet lined the walls and chaise lounge. A soft fur rug lay beneath your feet. You locked the door with a click.

Levi stood just inside, silent.

You didn’t speak.

You just danced.

Slow. Sinful. Seduction distilled. Your hips rolled, your bare feet gliding over the rug. The sheer silk flowed around you like mist. Your hands slid over your own curves, drawing his attention to your waist, your thighs, your breasts—everything men dreamed about and never touched.

He watched. Breathing steady. Face unreadable.

But you saw it in his eyes. Hunger.

You turned your back to him, letting the red silk slip down your arms. You looked over your shoulder, lips parted, breath shallow.

“Touch me,” you whispered.

He was on you in an instant.

Levi’s mouth crushed yours, his kiss rough and greedy. You answered with a moan, throwing your arms around his neck. His hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into flesh. You kissed him deeper—tongue, teeth, passion. You sucked on his bottom lip, then licked the corner of his mouth just to tease him.

He growled.

You laughed breathlessly and pushed him toward the chaise. He let you.

You climbed into his lap again, kissing down his throat, nibbling just beneath his jaw. His pulse jumped under your tongue.

“You gonna kill me?” you teased, voice soft as silk.

“Not tonight,” he muttered, dragging his lips along your collarbone. “Not unless you ask real nice.”

You rolled your hips over his, slow and deliberate. You felt him—hard beneath you, the tension in his muscles coiled tight.

“I’m sure you’ve killed for less,” you whispered.

He gripped your ass with both hands, pulling you tighter against him. “Don’t tempt me.”

But you did.

Every sway. Every sigh. Every flicker of your eyes as you stripped for him, peeling away the last sheer layer of your lingerie, baring your flawless skin beneath flickering candlelight.

You were a goddess made flesh.

And he worshipped you in silence—with his hands, his mouth, his body pressed against yours like he was starved.

You kissed again—slow this time. Tender. Deep.

You guided him down onto the chaise, your body hovering over his. Hair cascading around your face, your dimples deepening as you smiled down at him with a sultry glint in your eye.

You had him.

Levi’s cold, calculating gaze never left yours, even as you straddled him like you owned him—like you’d always meant to. His body was deceptively still beneath yours, but you could feel the tension in him. Like a beast barely leashed. Like something wild that hadn’t decided yet if it wanted to devour you or let you keep teasing.

He stared you down, a predator in human form.

And you… you stared right back.

Your smirk was slow, sultry, teasing.

Daring.

Your hands moved with purpose, curling around the delicate straps of your sheer red lingerie and sliding them off your shoulders, letting the fabric drift down, inch by inch. His gaze didn’t waver—yet. He was trying to prove something. Maybe to you. Maybe to himself.

But then—

The silk slipped low enough to reveal your breasts, and that was when he broke.

His eyes flickered downward.

Just for a heartbeat.

Just long enough for you to feel the victory pulse like electricity through your veins.

You didn’t say a word. You reached for his hands, rough and calloused from years of violence, and guided them to your chest. You pressed them to your bare skin, slowly… deliberately.

He didn’t resist.

Didn’t even blink.

His fingers curled, squeezing your breasts with slow, deliberate pressure, thumbs brushing over your nipples like he was testing the texture. His jaw tensed, nostrils flared. Still quiet. Still unreadable.

But his hands stayed.

You began to move again—hips rolling, body winding. A private dance made just for him. You moved with purpose, grinding slowly, sensually, until you could feel it—him. The hard, growing bulge beneath you.

You felt him twitch through his pants, and your hips rocked harder, more confidently, feeding the heat between you. The air was thick with your breath, the scent of candle wax, and the sharp buzz of Levi’s restraint fraying at the edges.

Then, without warning, you leaned forward and kissed him.

He didn’t pull away.

His lips were dry but warm. Soft but firm. You moaned against him, deepening the kiss. His hand slid from your breast to your lower back, gripping you tighter, anchoring you against him as he kissed you back—slow, hungry, like he had been holding back for too long.

And then, in a blink—he moved.

His grip on your waist tightened, and before you could react, he shifted his weight and flipped you beneath him in one smooth motion. You let out a small gasp as your back hit the velvet chaise, his body now hovering above yours, knees planted on either side of your hips.

His hands pinned your wrists above your head, his body pressed flush to yours, hard and unrelenting.

He was fast.

Strong.

Dangerous.

And yet… he wasn’t hurting you.

His face hovered inches from yours, eyes dark and stormy, studying you like you were something fragile—something rare.

“You think you’re in control?” His voice was low, rasping, a growl dragged over gravel.

You didn’t flinch.

You didn’t look away.

Instead, you tilted your head, smirking again, breath hot against his lips. “Aren’t I?”

Something flickered in his eyes. Lust. Annoyance. Admiration.

“You’re bold,” he muttered, voice thick. “Too bold.”

“And you’re hard,” you whispered, shifting your hips beneath him just enough to remind him exactly where your body met his.

His jaw clenched again. His hands slid down from your wrists, dragging slowly over your arms, until they settled at your sides. His fingertips dug into your hips like he was trying to decide if he wanted to leave bruises.

He leaned closer. His lips brushed the shell of your ear.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

You shivered, heart racing.

“I know exactly what I’m asking for,” you whispered.

He exhaled slowly, his breath hot on your neck, and you felt the smallest shudder run through him.

“I don’t go easy.”

“I don’t want easy.”

Levi pulled back just enough to look at you again. His hair hung slightly in his face, the dim candlelight catching on the sharp angles of his jaw. His eyes were dangerous—full of promises you weren’t sure you were ready for, but completely unwilling to turn down.

One hand rose to cup your cheek, thumb brushing just under your bottom lip.

“You’re gonna regret this,” he said quietly.

You nipped at his thumb with your teeth and grinned.

“Then make it worth it.”

His mouth was on yours before the last word left your lips—devouring, dominating, taking. You moaned into the kiss, your hands fisting in the back of his shirt as your legs wrapped around his waist.

He pressed his hips into yours, grinding slowly, deliberately, making you feel every inch of his arousal through the thin fabric between you. You gasped, arching into him, your fingers clawing at his back.

He broke the kiss with a low curse, staring down at you again like he was about to commit a crime.

And in that moment, you were more than willing to be his next sin..

You were flushed, lips parted, body trembling beneath his weight. You couldn’t move, not with the way he pinned you down with nothing but his presence, his hands, his voice.

And then—

He moved lower.

His hand slipped between your thighs.

You gasped, hips twitching, but Levi didn’t let up. He used two fingers to push aside your lingerie underwear—slowly, carefully, like he was unwrapping a gift. His touch was rough, calloused, but his movements were maddeningly gentle, teasing your folds with deliberate strokes.

“Shit…” he murmured, almost to himself. “You’re soaking through already.”

You whimpered. “Levi—”

He slipped one finger between your slick folds and dragged it through your heat, smearing it across your clit with a slow, lazy circle. You bucked beneath him, but he pressed his forearm against your hips, holding you still.

“You wanted this, remember?” he said, tone dark and smooth. “Climbed into my lap like a little slut... dressed like that... teasing me in front of a whole damn room.”

You gasped at the vulgarity of it—but gods, you liked it. Too much.

“I bet you thought I’d be rough right away. Thought I’d rip your panties off and fuck you into the chaise.” His voice dropped lower, lips brushing your ear. “But that’s not how this works.”

And then he slid one finger inside you.

Your back arched as the sensation bloomed white-hot. He watched you, expression unreadable except for the way his eyes darkened, flicking down to watch your body take him in.

“You’re tight,” he growled, slipping in another finger beside the first. “Hot. Fuck.”

He curled them inside you, rubbing against the spot that made your thighs tremble. Your legs tried to close, but he shoved them open with his knee, never once looking away.

“Keep ‘em open,” he ordered, voice like gravel and smoke. “Don’t make me tie you down.”

Your walls clenched around his fingers, and his smirk grew wicked.

“Yeah, I felt that.”

He started moving his fingers—slow at first, then faster, deeper. You cried out, breath catching, body bucking under the force of each thrust. He added pressure with his thumb against your clit, circling it in time with his pumping fingers.

You were unraveling.

Your hand flew to the cushion behind you, the other gripping his shoulder as you moaned his name, loud and broken. He leaned down, lips brushing your neck, whispering filth in your ear.

“You love this, don’t you? Me inside you like this... fingers deep, pussy gripping me like it’s desperate.” He chuckled darkly. “You’re gonna cum already? That easy?”

You were so close. So fucking close.

And then—

He stopped.

You let out a broken cry, hips chasing his fingers. “No—! Why did you stop—?”

“Because I can.” His tone was low and cruel, but his eyes sparkled with lust. “I told you—I don’t go easy.”

Before you could protest, he moved down between your thighs, dragging your underwear fully off with his teeth. He tossed it somewhere behind him and stared at your dripping core like it was the most decadent thing he’d ever seen.

“You’re a fucking mess,” he muttered. “Look at this—fuck.”

His breath ghosted over your heat, and then—his tongue was on you. Lapping. Sucking. Devouring. You cried out, thighs trying to close around his head, but his hands held you wide open as he feasted on you like he was starving.

You were shaking. Writhing.

His mouth was relentless. Every flick of his tongue pushed you higher. His teeth grazed your clit just enough to make your vision blur. Then, without warning, he slid his fingers back inside, curling them with precision while his tongue circled your clit.

You screamed.

“That’s it,” he murmured into you. “Make those pretty sounds. Let the whole fucking Lounge know who’s got you like this.”

You were right at the edge. Your walls clenched, legs trembling. The orgasm crept up your spine, white-hot, merciless.

But just as you were about to fall—

He stopped. Again.

“No—Levi! Please!”

He sat up slowly, licking your arousal off his fingers with maddening calm. “Goddamn, you taste good.”

You were panting, tears stinging your eyes from the sheer denial.

“You’re cruel,” you whispered.

“Yeah?” He leaned over you, dragging the head of his cock along your folds through his pants, just enough pressure to make you shudder.

“Then beg for it.”

You blinked up at him, breath hitching.

“Beg for what?”

“Everything,” he growled, gripping your jaw with one hand. “Beg me to ruin you.”

Your body was shaking. Slick with sweat and arousal, skin flushed, lips swollen from his kisses and your own bitten-back screams. The chaise lounge beneath you was damp with your arousal—your thighs soaked, your core pulsing and aching from the relentless teasing.

Levi leaned over you again, his voice low and cruel in your ear.

“Dripping all over the fucking chaise,” he muttered, running his fingers along the mess you were leaving. “You’re gonna clean that, brat?”

You whimpered, nearly sobbing. “Please—please, Levi, I can’t—”

“You can.” He grabbed your chin and tilted your face up to meet his. “You’re gonna take everything I give you.”

He pulled back and stood for a moment. You thought—hoped—he might finally give you what you needed.

Instead, he chuckled darkly, shaking his head. “You're so desperate. That little act back on the floor—straddling me like a bitch in heat—this is what you wanted, right?”

You were too dazed to answer, but your body betrayed you, arching and trembling in need. That smirk on his lips deepened as he ran a hand down your spine.

“Get on your knees,” he ordered.

You obeyed—barely—your legs wobbling as you turned and braced yourself on all fours atop the chaise. He spread your knees wider with a rough hand, his other gripping your hip like a vice.

He gave you no warning. No softness.

Just a rough, deep thrust that stole the breath from your lungs.

“Fuck!” you gasped, crying out as he filled you all at once.

“Quiet,” he growled, leaning over your back, teeth grazing your shoulder. “You don’t get to scream unless I say you can.”

He pulled back and slammed into you again—harder. Your eyes rolled back.

“I should’ve fucked you on that stage in front of everyone,” he hissed, pistoning his hips. “Let them all see what kind of filthy little thing you are.”

You were crying, moaning, unable to stop the way your hips rocked back to meet his every thrust.

But when you squirmed too much, trying to wriggle out of the overwhelming pressure and pleasure, he snarled.

“Can’t even stay still.”

In one brutal motion, he yanked his belt from his pants and grabbed your wrists. Before you could process it, he’d looped the leather around them and tied you up—wrists bound behind your back like a plaything.

“Nowhere to run now, yeah?” he breathed against your ear.

He gripped the end of the belt for leverage—and used it.

He fucked you.

Hard. Unrelenting. Brutal.

The slapping sound of skin meeting skin echoed through the room, mingling with your choked sobs of pleasure and his ragged breathing.

Your body rocked forward with every thrust, your tits bouncing, your knees struggling to hold you up. Your cheek pressed against the velvet cushion, lips open in a silent scream as he pounded into you from behind.

“You feel that?” Levi groaned, snapping his hips forward. “This is what happens when you act like a fucking tease.”

You could barely speak—barely think—but you nodded, whimpering, “Yes—yes, Levi, please—don’t stop—”

He tugged the belt tighter, slamming into you harder, deeper, like he wanted to mold your insides to the shape of his cock.

“Fucking dripping,” he grunted. “I can feel you squeezing me. So fuckin’ tight.”

You were gone. Slurred moans fell from your lips, tears slipping down your face as your body shook violently.

“You like being used like this, huh?” he sneered. “Tied up. Fucked dumb. Just a needy little hole for me to ruin.”

You nodded furiously, mouth open, drooling onto the cushion. “Yes, Levi—please, I need it—I need you—”

He bent over your back, still thrusting, now grinding deeper. “You’re gonna cum on my cock, aren’t you? Just from getting fucked like this?”

You clenched around him, crying out, the pressure in your belly snapping like a rubber band stretched too tight.

Your orgasm hit you like a wave—violent, overwhelming, shaking. Your vision whited out as your whole body spasmed beneath him, held together only by the grip of the belt and Levi’s hands on your hips.

“Fucking hell—” Levi groaned, voice cracked and low, “—that’s it, cum for me—fuck—”

He didn’t stop.

He kept going—faster, rougher, chasing his own release as your body twitched and convulsed from the overstimulation.

The only thing you could do was moan brokenly as he used you, mouth wide open and drooling, eyes glassy.

Then you felt him—his hips jerking, the rhythm breaking—and with a harsh groan in your ear, Levi slammed into you one final time and spilled deep inside you.

His grip stayed locked tight, fingers bruising your hips as he rode out his high, chest heaving against your back.

For a long moment, the only sound was your combined breath and the occasional, accidental twitch of your trembling legs.

Finally, he leaned over and kissed your shoulder. The belt slipped loose from your wrists, and his hand found your cheek, thumb wiping your tears.

“Did I break you?” he murmured, voice rough, but… gentle.

You let out a hoarse, satisfied sigh.

“I hope so.”

He chuckled low, biting softly at your shoulder. “Good.”

Your body felt like jelly. Used, full, and entirely boneless—folded into the chaise like you’d melted there.

The room was silent now. The glow of the candles had dimmed, flickering low, their golden light casting soft shadows over Levi’s face. His eyes weren’t sharp anymore. They were softer now. Still intense, but unreadable in a different way—like he was searching for something on your face that he wasn’t brave enough to ask for aloud.

You blinked at him, tears dried on your cheeks, lips swollen, pulse still fluttering in your wrists.

He finally moved.

Without a word, Levi pulled out of you carefully, steady hands on your hips to guide you down. You whimpered at the sensitivity, but he hushed you instantly with a thumb brushing along your thigh.

“Easy,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

He untied the belt from around your wrists, letting it fall to the floor. Your arms ached with relief, and before you could slump forward, he caught you—pulling you gently into his lap.

You were a mess—legs trembling, body soaked with sweat, smeared lipstick, and still full of him. But he didn’t flinch. He didn’t push you away.

Instead, he wrapped an arm around your back and pulled a throw blanket from the chaise, draping it over your shoulders. Then he held you—silent, solid, grounding.

You pressed your forehead to his chest, dazed and buzzing.

“I-I can’t feel my legs,” you mumbled, half-laughing, half-crying.

“Tch.” His voice was gruff, but his hand rubbed your back in soothing circles. “I told you I don’t go easy.”

You giggled weakly, nuzzling closer. “You’re a menace…”

Levi tilted your chin up, thumb brushing your cheek. “You good?”

His voice was quieter now. Rough, yes—but laced with something gentle. Something careful.

You nodded, eyes glassy. “Yeah. Just… floating.”

He stared at you for a beat. Then he shifted, slipping a hand between your thighs and gently brushing over your core.

You flinched.

“I know,” he murmured. “Too much. Sorry.”

He wiped you with the edge of the blanket—slow and gentle, surprisingly so. You watched him in a daze, heart swelling at the contrast. The same hands that had just wrecked you now handled you like you were porcelain.

Once he was satisfied, he pulled your legs across his lap and reclined back against the chaise, cradling you to his chest. One hand stroked your back, the other ran through your hair—slow, grounding motions.

“You didn’t have to be so gentle,” you whispered.

“You didn’t have to look at me like that,” he replied, voice low.

You blinked. “Like what?”

“Like I’m worth a damn.”

The silence that followed was thick—but not uncomfortable.

You nestled closer, resting your cheek against his collarbone.

“You are,” you whispered. “Even if you don’t think so.”

Levi didn’t answer. But his arms tightened around you just a little.

And that was enough.

~

Masterlist | Patreon

[idkyetxoxo]

Daemon Targaryen - Red Means I Love You

Summary - Daemon Targaryen is a storm of fire and fury, and she is caught in his dangerous orbit. Bound by love that consumes and destroys, they dance on the edge of madness, unable to escape the burning pull of each other.

Pairing - Daemon Targaryen x reader

Warnings - Violence

Word count - 2077

Masterlist for Daemon • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

'Cause my insides are red and yours are too and the red on my face is matching you and goodness you're bleeding what a wonderful feeling you're down and you're pleading my head is just reeling.

The clash of steel against steel rang out, echoing through the stone walls of the training grounds at the Red Keep, but it was not the metallic song of sparring blades that captured my attention. 

It was him—the Rogue Prince, Daemon Targaryen.

He moved like a tempest in human form, each motion a sinuous blend of poise and savagery as if the Gods themselves had moulded him from fire and shadow. 

His hair, silver as molten starlight, caught the light with every strike and twist, a shimmering halo that belied the darkness within. He was more than a man; he was a force of nature. 

And I, fool that I was, could not look away.

But neither, it seemed, could he. Mid-parry, his eyes found mine—piercing, knowing, as if he had already unravelled every secret I kept locked away. 

A smirk danced at the edge of his mouth as he deflected his opponent's blade with a lazy confidence that bordered on arrogance. 

In that instant, I knew: he was dangerous, and I was already too close to the flame.

My heart drummed a frantic rhythm in my chest, each beat a warning I refused to heed. 

Daemon Targaryen was more than a warrior he was danger incarnate. His legend was inked in blood and ambition, whispered of in fear and awe throughout the Seven Kingdoms. He was the man mothers warned their daughters about—the storm that could raze empires. 

And yet, here I stood, transfixed, a moth drawn to his inferno.

"You're watching," he said, his voice low and intimate as he cornered me in one of the shadow-drenched corridors of the Keep later that evening. The firelight danced across the stone walls, casting flickering patterns that mirrored the turmoil inside me. "Did you like what you saw?"

I tilted my chin, desperate to reclaim some semblance of composure. "I saw a prince fulfil his duty. Nothing more."

He stepped closer, the air between us charged and suffocating. 

"Liar." The single word dripped with challenge, a gauntlet thrown at my feet. It ignited something raw and wild within me—a warning I should have heeded, but instead, I met his gaze, unflinching.

His thumb traced a slow, deliberate line along my cheek, leaving a trail of heat that burned long after he pulled away. 

"Careful," he whispered, his voice a caress and a threat. "A dragon's fire does not discriminate."

I swallowed hard, willing my voice to remain steady. "I know what I play with," I said, the words hollow even to my own ears.

He smiled then—a predator's smile, equal parts amusement and hunger. "Do you?"

That night, I found no peace. I lay awake, haunted by the memory of his touch, the weight of his gaze, the way his words curled around me like smoke. 

In the days that followed, I tried to escape him, to push away the visions of his hands on me, the brush of his lips against mine, the electric promises whispered when no one else could hear. 

But it was a futile endeavour. Daemon Targaryen was a storm, and I was caught in its eye.

"Come," he beckoned one evening, his voice thick with shadow. He waited for me in the Godswood, the crimson leaves of the weirwood trees falling around us like droplets of blood. 

I should have turned away. Instead, I walked toward him, each step betraying the war within me.

"You deny me every glance and yet you come when I call," he murmured, his eyes never leaving mine.

I folded my arms over my chest, a thin barrier against the force of him. "Why do you call?"

His steps were measured, predatory, as he closed the distance between us. "Because you are mine." 

The words cut through the chill of the night air, as cold and unyielding as Valyrian steel. I wanted to scoff at his arrogance, to turn his claim to ashes.

But then his hands found my waist, pulling me against him, and every retort died on my lips. 

I was no longer standing in the Godswood but somewhere far darker, far deeper, drowning in the pull of him.

"I am not yours, Daemon Targaryen," I whispered, but the tremor in my voice betrayed me. He tilted my face toward him, his eyes blazing with a heat that burned through every defence I had left.

"No?" he asked, his breath warm against my skin. "Then why does the idea of my ruin thrill you?"

Before I could respond, his mouth claimed mine. There was no gentleness, no pretence—only the raw, consuming clash of desire and defiance. 

It was a kiss that spoke of broken vows and unspoken promises, a collision of storms that left no space for reason or fear. In his arms, I felt both lost and found. 

He was fire and fury, and I—weak and wanting—let him burn me whole.

I wanted him. Desperately. Recklessly. The truth I had denied became a brand upon my soul.

Weeks passed in a feverish blur, each moment a stolen spark in the dangerous game we played. It was a dance on the razor's edge, and every step carried the risk of ruin. 

Daemon thrived on it, his eyes glinting with a dark thrill each time we slipped past discovery as if daring fate to find us. 

And though I loathed to admit it, I thrived too, the heat of our forbidden bond burning through every rational thought. 

Our encounters were fire and fury—secret, searing, and desperate, as though every touch could be our last.

Desire gave way to something darker, something feral that roared to life when we crossed a line that could not be uncrossed. 

It happened at a tourney—a grand spectacle of jousts and combat meant to display valour and honour. Daemon's gaze rarely left me that day, smouldering and possessive even as knights circled and clashed. 

But then a voice rose above the din—a sneer from a rival knight, laced with insults that stained my name and honour. The words were poison, and Daemon reacted like the dragon he was.

He entered the fray with a smile that chilled me to the bone. Cold. Predatory. 

His opponent barely had time to draw breath before Daemon descended on him, his blade a silver blur. It was not a fight; it was a reckoning. 

Steel met steel with a fury that stole the breath from the crowd. 

Blood sprayed across Daemon's armour, vivid and wet, painting him in crimson. The fallen knight lay broken at his feet, his life seeping into the dirt.

In the stunned silence, Daemon looked at me. There was no triumph in his eyes—only a cold, unrelenting need that terrified and exhilarated me in equal measure. 

Later, in the quiet of his chambers, he washed the blood from his hands with a strange, reverent care. 

"The red means I love you," he said, his voice soft, as if he were confessing a sacred truth. "Do you see it now?"

I saw it, and it frightened me. I tried to pull away from him, tried to end what had become a labyrinth of madness and passion. 

"This has gone too far," I told him. "Love born from such violence cannot last." 

He listened, unmoving, his face a mask of stone. 

When he finally spoke, his voice was calm, but the words dripped with menace. "If you wish to walk away, do so. Just know that there is no place I cannot reach you."

And so I walked away. For three days, I vanished into the shadows of the Keep, avoiding Daemon's piercing gaze and the constant reminders of our bond. 

I retreated to the library, buried myself in old tomes, hoping their dust and parchment would smother the fire inside me. 

I whispered to myself that this was freedom. I dined alone, spoke only when required, but every shadow, every flicker of candlelight, seemed to carry the weight of his absence. 

In truth, I was not free. I was haunted.

The fourth night, I found myself wandering the Godswood beneath a crescent moon. Red leaves rustled in the wind, their sound a soft lament. 

My thoughts were a tangle of memories and unspoken words. 

I nearly missed the figure who stepped from the darkness—Daemon, his presence as inevitable as it was inescapable. 

He said nothing at first, only watched me with eyes that burned brighter than any flame. I should have turned away, but I stayed. I hated him then, for making me feel this way. 

"Why do you haunt me?" I demanded, my voice brittle. "Why can't you let me go?"

He stepped closer, the shadows coiling around him like smoke. 

"Because letting go is not in my nature," he said, each word heavy with truth. "You know that." 

Anger flared within me, a desperate attempt to smother the helplessness. "You would bind me to you, even if it destroys us both." 

His gaze softened a rare crack in his unyielding exterior. "If I must be destroyed, I would rather it be with you." There was pain there, buried beneath layers of arrogance and violence. 

And, to my shame, I felt it too.

I knew it then: loving Daemon was madness. Yet I was bound to him by threads I could not cut. 

"Do you regret this?" I asked him one night as we lay tangled together beneath the heavy velvet of his chambers. His fingers traced lazy circles along my spine, each touch a reminder of how deeply I was ensnared.

"Never," he said, his tone absolute. "I have worn crowns and cast them aside. But you?" He paused, his eyes alight with an unholy fire. "I would set fire to the realm for you." 

The words should have terrified me, but they didn't. Instead, I pressed closer, craving the very destruction he promised. 

"I do not want the realm's destruction," I whispered, desperate and aching.

"You should have thought of that before you let me in," he murmured, his breath hot against my ear. 

I shivered, caught between fear and desire. "You are cruel, Daemon."

"I love like a dragon," he replied. "Completely."

As the days darkened, the court buzzed with whispers—of Daemon's ambitions, of the storm that followed wherever he walked, and of the foolish soul entangled with him. 

I tried to escape their words, to find solace in silence. But there was no escaping Daemon. 

He was always there—watching, waiting, a storm ready to break. The intensity of his love suffocated and thrilled me in equal measure. I begged him for reason, for some shred of sanity amid the chaos. 

"You will destroy us both," I pleaded.

"Then we will burn together," he said, his eyes never leaving mine.

It was a promise and a curse. I thought of leaving him, of vanishing into the shadows where even he could not find me. But every time I steeled myself to flee, he found me. 

He would cradle my face, his touch gentle even as his gaze burned wild and desperate. "I would tear apart the world to keep you."

And I believed him.

The end came, as it always would, in blood and fire. An assassination attempt—one meant for me. I would have died if not for Daemon, who met the assassins with a fury that defied even the legends of House Targaryen. 

Blades clashed, screams echoed, and when the battle was done, the chamber was awash in blood, bodies broken like discarded dolls.

Daemon stood at the centre of it all, blood dripping from his sword, his chest heaving with exertion. His eyes found mine, wild and burning. 

"No one will take you from me," he vowed, his voice raw.

I stepped over the dead to reach him. My hands cupped his blood-slick face, trembling with the weight of what we had become. 

"This is what we are," I whispered, my voice cracking. "This is what love has made us."

His lips found mine, tasting of iron and promises that would never be kept. "The red means I love you," he murmured against my mouth.

And I knew then that there was no escape. Daemon's love was a cage of fire, and I was its willing prisoner.

The red means I love you, tasting your blood means I love you, the red means I love you, the red means I love you.

A/n - This song is very Daemon coded!

[callsignpxnguin]

We Were Ghosts Before We Died

A dark Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x fem!Reader fanfiction Click here for the AO3 version TW: pills, suicidal idealisation, gruesome physical deformities, depression

ONE—TWO—THREE

23 years. 23 fucking years on the force — 23 years of scarring missions, 23 years of putting himself through gruelling horrors, 23 years which he spent loyal with his life — all to prove meaningless the moment his left leg got caught in some forgotten landmine and rendered completely useless.

Couldn’t he just do paperwork? Classified documents couldn’t be released to those not directly involved. What about management? Same problem, and the 141 already worked well without one. Goddamn it, couldn’t he just be some sort of medic then? Not until his leg had properly healed up and he had gone through the necessary training. Both of which were impossible.

And so, without much more discussion and even less of a goodbye ceremony apart from getting wasted at the bar, Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, legend on and off the battlefield, a mere myth to some and the worst nightmare of others, was honourably discharged.

That was a month ago. What a load of bullshit.

In some ways, he couldn’t even bring himself to care. Following the loss of his best friend earlier that year, following having to watch the life leak of of his once-twinkling eyes with a horrifying clarity, he just about lost all of what little sense of emotion he had remaining in him. John Price — captain, mentor, guide — recommended therapy, because even other people could see that Simon was being even more reclusive and alone than his usual isolated self.

Not that Simon ever went. He had enough on his plate without having to waste extra energy to hyper-analyse what it all meant. Everything was hell, he knew that already.

In other ones, he didn’t even need to care about the change for it to impact him. That job was his life. His purpose. Without it, he was nothing. An empty shell of a man, brutally honed since he could remember for a use that he could no longer perform. It was ironic, really, how everything turned out in the end. How Makarov still lived, Johnny didn’t, and Simon was left in the middle of it all, completely useless to do anything about it.

The moth-ridden sofa creaked under his weight as he shifted. He didn’t dare look down at his legs as he did, keeping his eyes firmly on the damp ceiling where black mould spiderwebbed out from every corner — he’d just get sick again and clog up the already-faulty toilet. It had already happened too many times.

Outside, the dull evening sky of Beswick was cloudy and miserable. It was all he could have expected, in a town like this — one of the roughest areas of Manchester, and that was saying something. If he was being honest, that was exactly why he was there. To torture himself, to make himself suffer, to pay for the sin of how he lived, and Johnny didn’t. How his breath was wasted on someone who could barely move, when it should have been spent on his brilliant, cheeky, too-fucking-good friend instead.

And look where that got him.

His bloodshot eyes flicked to the various pain medications splayed across the floor, as the soft tick-tick-ticking of the grandfather clock, the only nice piece of furniture he owned, droned into his mind like a metronome. They were always there; they that there as an option, a last resort. Maybe not even that. Maybe something more impending.

Maybe the inevitable.

Was that what it was, what they would turn out to be? They called to him like a siren song, tainting his thoughts, taunting his mind. They could end it, if he gave them a chance.

With a grunt, with the shifting of something in his mind, he hauled himself off the couch and suddenly gathered all the pills he could find into a pile. Death couldn’t be worse than the life he lived right now. It would be quiet, peaceful — even that was more than he deserved. Was a better, easier way to go than the agony that Johnny endured in his last moments, surrounded by chaos and gunshots, suffering with the agony of his wound. But it would at least be a relief, the repentance of his sin. He had no-one to bring sorrow to with his disappearance, save for perhaps the captain and Gaz. But they hadn’t been in contact in months, and wouldn’t find out for probably another year, by which time he supposed he’d already be fuzzy in their memories, a man once known now turned into a faceless figure in their minds. One that they perhaps knew a one upon a time, but that time was long gone.

His leg cramped painfully. That was the last straw. Simon’s eyes blazed in frustration and agony, both mental and physical, and he pulled himself to his feet, dragging his stupid leg along the floor with sickening thumps as it hit various objects strewn around. It only took two hobbled strides for him to reach the peeling door, throw on an old army cap, and force himself out the door. He hadn’t even bothered with a mask. He wouldn’t need to, if he wouldn’t see anyone else after this evening.

The hallway was quiet. It always was — no one in their right mind would live in one of these apartments, save for the occasional squatter. And even they avoided the place once they realised who their neighbour would be.

Rational humanity feared him. Hated him. He couldn’t blame them; so did he.

A lone streetlight weakly lit up the path down the road once he left the building, bulb flickering precariously every few moments, the way a flame would. No matter. His destination was only another few miles further, and he preferred the dark anyway.

Not even crickets chirped as he limped along. It was as though the entire street was dead — to be honest, it probably could be, and Simon wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference. Most cars avoided this part of town, too, and with good reason. Lucky for him, he supposed, because the pavements were always disgustingly filthy.

Ka-thump. Ka-thump. Ka-thump.

Jesus Christ, he felt like the monster in a fucking horror movie. He hated his leg — despised it. Abhorred it to the point where… well, where something like this came about. With every hopping step he took, it hung behind him like a phantom, hitting the concrete with soft, eerie thuds.

Two blocks away, now.

One.

The sky had somehow deepened to an even gloomier shade of grey, a singular crow cawing its dissonant song, as he walked up to the restaurant of his choosing. The only place he wanted to visit just one last time

An American-style 80’s diner. Blinking neon signs, checkerboard floors, red booths, the whole pizzaz. Stupid, really, and a goddamn stain on Johnny’s name, but… he couldn’t help it. It was oddly comforting, served good food, and he figured he may as well enjoy it one last time, if nothing else.

Knuckles knocked on the door harshly. After a moment he let himself in and slid (with some effort, damn leg) into the booth furthest away from the singular other occupied table, then waited. Soon enough, a waiter approached him absently. “Order?” The young man asked drily, mind clearly occupied with something else other than the customer in front of him as his eyes kept lingering on the kitchen door.

Simon bristled at his tone. “…Black coffee and a steak. Medium rare.”

He nodded, and whilst it wasn’t an order that needed to be written down, Simon would have appreciated a little more confirmation that he understood the order. “Got it,” he said after a moment, before promptly disappearing off.

Bloody friendly, he was, thought Simon with a soft scoff, leaning back into the oddly textured but plush seat as his eyes drifted towards the ceiling. Everything so far had been… uneventful. He didn’t know what he was expecting, leading up to what he planned to do, but a normal evening definitely wasn’t it.

The family in the other corner’s conversation was loud, and it reached a crescendo of giggles and exclamations once he was settled, but instead of tuning it out at he usually would, he listened to the discussion quietly.

Simon had never cared much for others — that much was clear in the way he attached himself to only a mere few, never dated for more than a few weeks, and was just distant generally. He found people not confusing, but immensely tiring. He could read everyone too easily and it got to a point where it just drained him to try.

Johnny, and the rest of the task force for that matter, was different. He had definitely been tiring, but in a good way. In a way that left Simon fulfilled. He was in no way a good man — none of them were, with the amount of blood that stained their hands — but he was as good as he possibly could have been. Good, and far too brave for his own good. And now he was gone, forever, and soon Simon would be joining him.

Life was a funny thing, really, Simon decided — his food having arrived as he began to chew on the steak with slow, firm chews. Given so freely, lived so differently, and taken so easily. An innocent child could be killed before even offered the chance to experience it, and a murderer could live to a ripe old age without any morals before passing away peaceful.

He knew it was never fair — he didn’t think anyone truly believed that. But sometimes, in his bunker with the snores of his sleeping teammates the only sounds to accompany him, he used to foolishly hope that maybe things didn’t have to be tragic. That whilst bad things did happen, there were people who did good, too. They may not get recognition, and no one may ever know how many there were or what they did apart from the receivers, but they still went on for the sole purpose of bringing others joy.

It didn’t matter. The world would still go on without him, and other people could analyse human behaviour and have the same hopes that he had—

An unfamiliar voice cut through his thoughts. “Hey, just letting you know your waiter’s shift ended, and I’ll be your new one.”

Simon jerked in surprise — locking eyes with you as you smiled at him kindly. “I— oh, okay. Sorry for overstayin’ his shift.” He was a blunt man, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t polite. And also didn’t mean that he wouldn’t at least try to live his last hours showing kindness to people who showed it to him, especially after all he had thought about. Maybe the stuff he was taught in kindergarten did have a use, after all.

You smiled even wider at the large man before you as he muttered out his response. Because you recognised the expression he had had on his face as soon as he had walked in the door. “No worries! Hope you enjoyed your dinner. Would you like anything else?” I have to keep him here for a while. I can’t let him leave like this. You wouldn’t. You weren’t the kind of person to let things you could’ve changed slip by out of cowardice or laziness. Whilst you were no saint — and could’ve accurately been described as the complete opposite a few years back — recently you had tried damn hard to do the best you could.

He hesitated, and the thoughts that ran through his head were laughably obvious on his face, for a man you assumed lived most of his life showing nothing at all, judging by the faded army cap on his head.

You almost sighed in relief when he decided, “…Yeah. I’ll take another black coffee, thanks.”

“Sure thing!” You chirped, gathering his empty plates before scurrying off behind the counter.

He watched you as you left, blinking at your sudden but attentive departure. You were… quite eager. Sweet. Maybe a little younger than him, and definitely more naive. In any case, he preferred you to the man who had served him previously. He could only assume that you were fairly new as a waitress here, though, because he’d never seen you before.

Or maybe he’d just never cared to take notice.

The constant reflections that his ultimatum prompted him to have sobered him a little. Put life into the kind of jarring clarity that only hindsight could provide. It was refreshing, really. Allowed him to really see what kind of person he was in the past, and then what kind of person he had become now.

But never the kind of person he could be in the future.

“Here you go!” You had already returned, sliding the piping-hot coffee in front of him with pride. “Made it extra large. Figured you might appreciate it.”

So, you’d noticed? That was interesting, Simon thought. Didn’t really matter, though, because you were most likely just into him and trying to flirt. It happened far too often. “Thanks.”

You froze at his quick reply. Oh, no. You weren’t going to let him dismiss you just like that. Your mind went into overdrive in a moment, desperately trying to cling to something that you could bring up a conversation with, before you asked hesitantly, unsure if the query was too forward, random, or private, “So… army, huh?”

The man stiffened, muscles tightening beneath his vest, and you feared for a second that you’d said the wrong thing. But he didn’t push you away, and instead asked roughly, “How’d you know?”

Thank God. You had been certain that he was either going to yell or ignore you. This was much better. “The— the cap.” The few words you omitted were still loud — and the scars. They were beautiful on him, really — battle marks that reflected what he had been through. What he’d had to endure to be here today. They curled over his cheeks like spiderwebs, cutting through his pale eyebrows. Some trailed up into his scalp, under his short blond hair, and some pulled at his lips. The most notable one, and the one that first caught your attention, wasn’t a scar at all — just his crooked nose. Broken multiple times, by the way it bent awkwardly. Something no amount of surgery could ever truly fix.  Something no surgery even needed to fix, in your opinion.

The man cocked his head at you, brown eyes roaming your face like they’d give him the answers to the questions of the universe. “And how’d you figure ‘army’ from that?” He was fair to ask the question, as it wasn’t exactly conspicuous. Wasn’t even vaguely camo or embroidered with any obvious logos.

You flushed a bit at the speed at which he caught on to your slip-ups. “My dad has a few from when he served.”

That got his attention. “Huh. What did he do?”

“Oh, nothing particularly interesting, or anything similar to something like the SAS,” you said casually, though you internally jumped as you saw the spark of recognition flare up in his hazel eyes as you mentioned the one division he was most likely in. Or had been in. That, you couldn’t tell quite yet. “People used to get excited when they asked him about it until they realised that he was just a colonel.”

“Good on him,” the man rumbled after a pause, dropping his gaze again to stare at his coffee. “…But the SAS isn’t all that. He’s much better off for not being part of it.”

Your eyebrows raised in faux surprise. Bait for him to latch on to. “Yeah?”

“I was in the SAS.” The words are spoken almost bitterly, and forced out the way a confession would roll off the mouth of a sinner in church. You expected him to continue, but he remained silent.

“Can’t talk about it?”

His eyes cut back to yours again, sharp and piercing, moving as fast as they had left. “That. And I don’t want to.” Ah. There was the defensiveness, not that you expected anything different. The privacy. It was hard — of course it was, to even try and talk about the bare minimum of the stuff he must have had to go through.

He wouldn’t have that look in his eyes if it wasn’t.

You nodded slowly, not pushing, but also not leaving. Lingering in case there was something else, anything, he was willing to offer you.

“Hard night, then?” You asked softly.

Something shifted in his composure. He slumped, though almost imperceptibly, and his ink-soaked muscles loosed. “Somethin’ like that.”

A warmth filled your chest, despite his defeated words. The man before you was obviously heavily scarred, both mentally and physically. You didn’t know yet what haunted his dreams, what formed his phantoms at night, and whose screams echoed in his mind, but you intended to find out. You had to make it better for this one man who you had seen walk into the diner so many times before, always silent and alone, and save him from his own mind like you weren’t able to so many years before. You were determined. And you could tell that you had already eased down his first line of defence. “Well, there’s always tomorrow, yeah? Nothing gives you a brighter perspective on things than the dawn of a new day.” You paused, watching him take your words in, before you added, “If you message in advance and come early enough tomorrow, I might just be able to get you some free pancakes. Extra maple syrup.”

“…Not a fan of syrup.”

You laughed lightly. “But not saying no to the pancakes, I see. Here—” You quickly grabbed a napkin and scribbled down your number with the pen attached to your shirt, before shoving it in front of him so quickly it could’ve been burning you. The only opportunity you could see was now, and you intended on taking it.

The man stared down at the napkin like it was some sort of alien.

Didn’t throw it away or turn you down outright, though, you thought.

When he glanced back up at you, he only nodded. Silent, but the action spoke volumes.

You beamed; the smile was more genuine than any of the others you had offered that evening. “You come here a lot. Nice to finally chat to you. Diner opens at six tomorrow, just a heads up. Have a nice evening!” And with that, you disappeared behind the counter one final time, and didn’t reemerge.

*

Simon honestly didn’t know why he took the crumpled napkin with your number, when he hadn’t accepted that offer from women for years, and put it into his phone —albeit under the name ‘Diner Waitress’. He also didn’t know why, when he walked back through the door into the apartment, he slid the pile of pills to the side instead of taking them as he planned. And he certainly didn’t know why he had decided to see you again tomorrow for pancakes, and intended on not changing his mind.

And he knew he wouldn’t.

Something deep in his bones compelled him to do all that, and whilst he didn’t enjoy it, he also didn’t hate it. It gave him a chance to occupy his mind, and a chance to get free food from his favourite diner. Two things he didn’t necessarily despise. He also hadn’t thought about his leg all evening, he realised, climbing into bed with the usual amount of heaving effort. Besides, the pills could wait for a while. They were still an option, it wasn’t as though he couldn’t just take them in a few days.

That night, Simon slept completely dreamlessly — a rarity, considering the chilling nightmares that had been plaguing him for weeks on end, now. And you were right. The morning was a little more refreshing, cheered him up just a bit more than he had been feeling the night before.

He wrapped his fingers around his phone, resting on the pillow beside him.

Pancakes? Was the lone word he sent to your number the next morning, 6am on the dot.

Taglist: @moonfriesbruv @snburntandsad @asweetheart @vampsauce91

(This is the depressed Ghost fic I mention a few weeks ago, remember?)

This is one of the most favourite series I’ve written so far, so I hope you enjoyed ❤️

Please ask for the taglist, and feel free to share any thoughts below! Every comment makes me inexplicably happy :)

[lilacxquartz]

from the shadows;

mr. gap x gn!reader

plot: your existence brings something out in mr. gap that he doesn’t quite yet understand — themes: yandere-lite, romance, one shot, gender neutral insert — w.c: 1k

ao3 • masterlist

No matter where you walked and no matter where your footsteps landed; if there was a nook, crevice, or opening of any kind, then Mr. Gap would always be there, watching, lurking, and studying you with his complete and utter attention.

Newcomers seldom arrived within the apartments, after all, and there was something surely intriguing about you in a way that made it difficult for him to ignore you. Ever curious about the world around him, Mr. Gap latched onto you like a moth to a flame, following the pretty light all over the area that threatened to light up his whole world.

Indeed, it was all a curious little investment, especially with how you ignored his playful jabs and odd requests, but then you unexpectedly got closer to him than he had ever anticipated in you doing so, stirring a strange new feeling up in his very core. He blinked and stared at you in stunned silence, opening up his mouth to protest, only to be met with muffled silence as you sought to hide from the strange wandering red man. Such help with storing you away made him feel useful and he wanted nothing more than that feeling to continue, feeding an addictive sort of sense of incentive to chase and explore (and dare he even think, to keep).

His breath locked in the back of his throat as you nestled together with him in the dark, huddled up to press against his body, feeling the weight of your form rest against his own. For a brief moment, he wanted to not let go, the prospect of upcoming loneliness an almost daunting one to bear.

Reluctantly however letting you go, he kept on your tail just in case beyond that point, conducting his own personal research of sorts to figure out just who exactly was interested in you—other than him, because, just who exactly was Mr. Scarletta and what did he want with you?

No such answers ever came however and the only method that seemed to work was by helping you hide, so that’s what he offered from time and time, again and again. On occasion, you would see red and he would show up at the most opportune moments as a friendly face in the dark, ready to dim the lights and plunge Mr. Scarletta into the blinding dark, keeping you close whenever he could.

(Finding it all the more difficult to let go with every passing interaction, at that.)

The final straw was when you had frustrated him just enough for him to simply, just… snap. He wanted to joke around with you, to mess with you and even show off, but you never quite gave him what he truly wanted. Never a heart or a hand or a leg or anything at all, just a place to hide, and then off you went.

(But not anymore.)

You tried to leave, to go and look for the way out just as you had always meant to do, but then you couldn’t.

Choosing his words carefully, he asked you not for a single part, but for something whole instead, gambling everything he had on you to hopefully misunderstand his request, because that way you would surely give in (and so that his rule of legend could successfully activate, thereby tricking you into cooperating with him).

With a determined tone, he looked you dead in the eyes and chanced a proposition, “Give me your… ####?”

You tilted your head, looking at him head-on in the dark, feeling the pressure to leave without the means of doing so. Some sort of unseen force locked you into place, forcing you to stay and answer the question he had posed, and just as he had hoped, you successfully misunderstood the context of the question, correctly guaranteeing your eternal place in the shadows with him at your side.

All of a sudden, you could no longer pass through the long and winding corridors, feeling a longing sort of confinement within the walls. Those intricate long-winding perpetual void-like paths now appeared to be visible in your eyes as clear as day. You were again, left stunned as you considered what exactly he had obtained from you, wondering if he asked for your whole body this time—if he had cursed you, or even tricked you, or something similar of the sort—finding that he had saved you from that strange red man instead.

“Thank you,” you tried to say, watching with slight confusion as he turned his nose away from you, refusing the blush that otherwise crept over his ashen face, suddenly acting indifferent, and yet, when you continued to speak again, informing him that he helped, he couldn’t help but melt away on the spot, letting his guard down at long last.

Feeling emboldened by his own misunderstood resolve, he pointed at your lips and asked for something else, “Can I have your… lips?”

“Yes…?” you warily replied, half expecting him to bite them off.

Instead, just as he heard you, he leaned in close to press them against his own, resisting a nibble just because you likely wouldn’t like that (and would probably scold him, much to his concern), finding that he actually quite enjoyed the exchange.

Stepping back for a beat, the hallways bled a crimson red again, and not even letting you process what had happened, he yanked your hand forward at the right moment, sending you flying forward within his reach, racing to show you all sorts of secrets that not even the longest-staying residents knew of.

You followed along, both fascinated and unnerved, yet curious all at the same time.

What an oddity you had found yourself involved with.

But you couldn’t help but wonder at the same time… would he actually help you leave, or would he, blinded by his own affections, keep you in the dark with him, forever instead?

You had a feeling that your mission to find the exit was over as a result, ready to explore all of the strange places that Mr. Gap would surely lead you off to.

(And to your surprise, you didn’t mind a single bit.)

[thehydraethereal]

"You flinch like that again in public, and I’ll give you a real reason to." (1)

Character: General Marcus Acacius.

Trigger warnings: age gap (maybe reader is the daughter of someone from the Senate), power dynamic (he's the General a.k.a HOT), physical abuse, harassment, threats, fear kink, manhandling, manipulation maybe ?

I was honestly just thinking of Acacius putting on the facade of a caring, loving and dotting husband when he's scorting reader to the market to buy some food for dinner and at some point she does something he does not like and she flinches at his reaction. He's an abusive man close doors because he's obsessed with reader and deep down fears she's going to run away from him or something like that, I leave it to you obviously, I read your work and god, breathtaking to say the least

CORIANDER UNDER THE FIG TREE ههههه

senator's daughter.ᐟ reader && dark.ᐟgeneral acacius

.ᐟ trigger warnings: My work contains dark themes such as physical abuse, power imbalance, age gap, harassment, threats, phsyhological terror and other possible triggering elements. Proceed with caution. If these warnings trigger you, DO NOT INTERACT. 𝒜cces my DARK PROMPTS, my WHEEL OF INSPIRATION, my MASTERLIST and send in more REQUESTS.

ههههه

A shaky breath leaves your chest as you stroll next to the aged fig tree which marked the beginning of the market. And then, the scent hits you—coriander. Its citrusy and spicy aroma was the characteristic, consoling element that marked your childhood.

Whenever you touch the darkened green leaves, sadness overflows you. 

Your father, Ghauccus, often let you stand among the servants. You were much beloved due to your father’s kindness, everybody loved to see his sweet child growing up so gorgeously. The maids often let you ground spices in the bronze mortar—an activity you loved doing, especially during summer evenings, after you had tired yourself running after fireflies and the moths that gathered around flames that illuminated the garden and vines. Notwithstanding their chuckles at how heavy the pestle was for your infant hands, you were still encouraged and strength was manifested over you ever since you were a youngster. 

A custom you and your father honorated religiously was the  first quarters of the moon, spent within the folds of forgotten stories or legends about women that shaped their own fate and destiny—no matter how darkened it seemed. You still felt your father’s fingertips grazing your lower back, showing you his deep affection and cherishment whenever you shared a walk in the open.

You flinch hard as you feel the general’s —your husband's— fingers gripping your hip and pulling you nearer his grander body. Your ribs are adorned by burgundy marks and a tiny whimper escapes your throat as the bruised flesh is pressed against the gilded armor with drops of gold which poke your skin mercilessly.

People bow their heads as he passes by with you on his arm, even though a couple of elders eye him with a disgusted glare and you...with pity. As they remember who your father was and who your husband is. They all view his as a tyrant for serving the twin Emperors so respectfully but you are the one that knows he certainly wants the throne somehow. You know about the plots and about his aspirations of becoming the Emperor of Rome soon. And the thought terrifies you.

You can already tell, by the way the muscles in his jaw clench and tick, that your "stunt" has maddened him. Fear constricts your throat and you feel your chest burning, so you try your best to brush the event off your husband's mind.

"W-we should buy more herbs, and I will have the maids prepare you the dish you l-like so much—", you try to speak, but Acacius lowers his head to speak in your ear and the words die on your tongue.

"We will return home, my love.", he growls and you already feel tears burning in your eyes. Home? You don't want to go "home". You know how rarely he lets you out and you know what will happen to you when you arrive back to the villa so you try to delay the inevitable by lingering in this moment.

"P-please, my lord, please...", your eyes bore pleadingly in his coal black ones as you try to steady your whispering voice. "Please, no, let's stay a little longer—".

"No?", he cuts you off again, and you feel his grip tightening. The deep chuckle that erupts from his broad chest sounds more like a growl and again, you feel small, powerless, you feel like a lamb to the slaughter. "When I command something, you have no say in it, haven't I taught you that, my little lamb?", he continues, as if he heard your thoughts.

You nod your head weakly, as you graze your eyes over the marketplace one more time. The coriander you willed to buy lies now forgotten on a wooden table as fear curses through your veins.

As soon as your feet hit the marble floors, and Acacius knows he is not under people's gaze anymore, you feel his hands on you. He grips the back of your neck and drags you to himself. You don't have time to scream, plead, beg—only to whimper—, as his lips press to your ear. "Tell me, you like when I put my hands on you?"

When you only move your head in a silent no, too choked by your own sobs and tears, he shakes your body harshly. "Answer me!", he says, trying to keep his voice down, inhaling and exhaling, visibly overly angered.

"N-no...", you cry out in the silence of the house.

The general grabs your waist next and he slams your body in the wall. You fell the copper of the blood in your mouth as he presses himself against your back. "Then why you make me do this?"

Both of his massive, calloused hands that killed so many, wrap around your wrists, pushing them next to your head. The general's massive figure makes your lungs burn, air simply not reaching them.

"My queen, why do you have to be so diffucult? ", he asks you again, and even under the heavy robes, you feel his hard member poking at your lower back. A sob escapes your lips and you feel a warm, thin trace of blood running down your chin, along with fresh tears. He always gets disgustingly excited whenever he feels your muscles tensing with fear. Another thing you loathe about him.

"I give you everything, don't I? I am a good husband, I am wealthy and I will make you my queen one day, and you still act so ungratefully."

He retreats from you all of a sudden and your knees give up on your weight, making your body collapse on the ground on your palms and the skin tears open on them. Teardrops fall, wetting the expensive marble carved with bronze. Acacius's hand fists itself in your hair and he slowly pushes your head up. His eyes scan your terrified features and the blood that starts to dry on your face and he licks his lips at the sight. You feel like you are nothing but a pile of broken limbs at the general's feet.

He runs his thumb over your lips that are trembling, and pushes it in your mouth, letting it rest heavily on your hot tongue.

You screw your eyes shut as he pushes it further, almost touching the back of your throat with it. "Look at me.", he commands and you obey immediately when he grips your jaw harshly with the other fingers. "You are mine by right. If you shame me one more time, I will ruin you so thoroughly that even the crows will pity what is left."

You flinch at the threat, and terror settles deep in your bones.

The general retreats the finger from your mouth and grips your cheeks with his entire hand. The look in his eyes was, for a brief moment, vulnerable. The only vulnerable thing in him.

Another tear slipped down your face and, combined with your blood, it painted his hand in a powdered pink stripe.

"You flinch like that again in public, and I'll give you a real reason to.", the man finished, standing up high.

"I expect you in the bedroom. You have wife duties to attend. And if you refuse, I will fuck the disobedience out of you under the sun’s gaze — and when everyone will spit on you as a whore, you’ll know you earned it."

You choked on a sob as he left, and your blurry vision caught one of your servants, one of the servants that let you ground the coriander in your father's home, look at you with tears in her eyes. There was nothing you could do but stand up and join your husband.

⋆↝ 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: So, when I saw your request in my inbox, I was literally SO. HAPPY. because I've been seeing your reblogs and you read good stuff and it was really encouraging that you are reading MY shit 😭 ♡ Thank you, my love and I really hope this reaches your expectations. I LOVED WRITING THISSS

⋆↝ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: @highonmarvel @pedrosyouknowwhat @essraxi ♡

[fwoopersongs]

以沫 - Yi Mo (shared breath)

相濡以沫 lit. to moisten each other with spittle This was derived from Chapter 6 of Zhuangzi, The Grand Master, 'When the spring dried up, the fish found themselves dwelling on land together. They wetted each other with their breath, and moistened each other with their spit. It had been better times when they were unfamiliar strangers in the rivers and lakes.' This idiom has come to metaphorically describe people who help each other with whatever little they have while in difficult circumstances themselves. Legend: Fei Du, Luo Wenzhou, Both (yellow in the video)

In my heart, there is a thicket of flowers growing outstretched toward the blazing sun, more fragrant than all the finest wines. Their searing fragrance once flooded the chest of a man made of straw; and from then on, that straw man’s conviction would endure beyond time.

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

The turning days of yesteryear still vivid: In your eyes, the moth is aflame. [1] Why do you choose silence? [2] Many years have passed… who is that now softly reading? Life and death, love and hate - divided. [3]

The gates of hell are wide open; my sight blurs more and more. [4] Reciting memorized names from the list of devils, that’s me, barely breathing. Vanishing suddenly, the shooting star is a flash across the sky filled with reluctance; [5] with the cigarette snuffed out, your silhouette is outlined by the darkness.

I am adrift alone, the molten lava’s searing flow rising past my chest; the fragrant blossoms in my heart reach toward the blazing sun. [6a] You go to that faraway place where there is no sunrise, no first light… [7] but likewise - no regrets; you walk into the abyss, and I with you. [8]

A single song plays on loop; in me, the past is deeply branded. Time is being squandered, discerning good from evil, where they begin and end. [9] These twinkling lights of a million homes… are they worth mooring for? Lost within the fog, that brilliance quietly fades. [10]

I am adrift alone, the molten lava’s searing flow rising past my chest; the fragrant blossoms in my heart reach toward the blazing sun. You go to that faraway place where there is no sunrise, no first light… but likewise - no regrets; you walk into the abyss, and I with you.

The ship docks in the harbor, a ray of light shining through the window. I am by your side; my heart and my hurts healed. The waves shatter and rise again—cyclical, they bear witness to the past, and with time, become boundless and everlasting. [6b]

Ten thousand years later, you and I, we’ve transformed into two clouds of foam. [11] Reunited, two gasping fish upon the rocks each spitting foam on the other, [12] refusing to part.

A moment of your tenderness, and the vast indifferent sea of Others shattered, [13] the chronic affliction self-healed, the crimson blood dimmed. ‘Without your permission’ I’ve left the sand dunes and the wastelands far behind, all for that one instant of starlight. [14]

A lone boat sails the misty waves - to save me. [15]

NOTES

My goodness. It’s been quite a while since my last song closely linked with a novel. This one has all the distinct vibes of a fansong xD I don’t know if it was because it’s written for audiodrama or if it was already an existing one before this, but either way I have missed this flavour of song! It was such a nostalgic experience to listen to it on a loop and play around with guessing references, even if this isn’t my fandom.

As usual, I have not (fully) read the novel it was based on, and as such this is a semi context-free take. Y’all really have @decrescendo to thank for this, because the translation is brought to you by yj’s last braincell that grabbed on to - 

- and REFUSED to let go.

BTW, that’s a screencap of her (previously) work in progress fanvid for Justice in the Dark, the 默读 drama adaptation that finally after sooooooooo much difficulty and fridging, finally got broadcast. And she finished it too - COME WATCH IT HERE! 

Are any of them worth anchoring for? And then the answer was SO GOOD. If you’re a Mo Du or JITD fan, I’ll leave you to experience the full song in my post and then see what A did in her fanvid.

Anyway, full disclosure: I’ve read about ⅕ of the priest’s 默读 on jjwxc (plus all the Fei Du major injury scenes *cough*) and about nine or ten episodes of Justice in the Dark - still need to get back to it someday - and have osmosed the barest gist of the story. It may have been enough to make fairly educated guesses at what some parts of the song were about. BUT!!!! For a context based translation, Chaikat has a very in-depth writeup here. Also check it out in general because this is a SINGABLE version in English (omg). I’ve tried it. It works!!!! So many kudos for this labour of love. 

Onwards to annotations for the song!

[1] 朝夕如昨 你眼中飞蛾扑火 The turning days of yesteryear still vivid: In your eyes, the moth is aflame.

What this reads like to me is, ‘In all the times we spent together that are playing back in my mind now, it’s clear you were going to do something not recommended by EHS - it was written in your eyes.’

The first four words are literally [dawn and dusk] [like yesterday]. The common usages of 朝夕are things like indicating the passage of time, a cycle of day and night i.e. short period of time, or doing something/something happening day and night and so on. It threw me for a loop for a while because I hadn’t made the latter connection xD And then separately, like its english counterpart, ‘like moth to a flame’, in 飞蛾扑火 there is a layer of inevitability and self destructiveness inherent in that image. Also it’s so dramatic that my brain automatically provides an image of the moth already burning up in the fire it threw itself on.

[2] 为何选择 沉默 Why do you choose silence?

This was a delightfully ambiguous line because there is no subject in the sentence. Is this a question for Fei Du - why didn’t you say anything about your past and your plans? Or is this a question for himself, Luo Wenzhou - you observed all the signs and said nothing about them! 

I like that a lot. It’s nice to chew on!

[3] 生死 同爱恨 分隔 Life and death, love and hate - divided. 

The literal translation of this is, ‘life and death have been separated from love and hate’. My context-free understanding of this is that it’s natural for life, death, love and hate to be intertwined, and so for there to be a separation, something unnatural must have happened. Of course, the line could be a neutral statement about how feelings for a person exist no matter their state of being. However, from the preceding line 多年又过 是谁轻声诵读着 | Many years have passed… who is that now softly reading? it already sounds very tied to plot shenanigans unbeknownst to me. 

In song context, I would guess that the character’s will to live, fear of death and human emotions have become, hmmm… not so accessible. And that has something to do with the person reading the literary work (classic literature) aloud. 诵读 is doing that - usually specifically with a literary work - with emotions, bringing it to life.

(Also I couldn’t figure out if 诵读 is a closed book i.e. reciting or an open book exercise, so if someone knows please enlighten me! It was interesting to read this detailed description of schooling requirements for reading aloud from The Education University of Hong Kong LOL)

[4] 地狱之门大开着 眼前愈发浑浊 The gates of hell are wide open; my sight blurs more and more.

Both figurative statements I think. In song context (influenced by my vague impression of novel context) the crimes keep happening and mastermind (?) behind them has muddied the waters. The moth flying toward the flames in the song (Fei Du) is also not sharing everything he knows. And so for the other character (Luo Wenzhou) from whom things are hidden, it’s increasingly hard to see the truth as plot things go on. 

[5] 猝然消逝的流星 一闪划过 / 明明不舍 Vanishing suddenly, the shooting star is a flash across the sky filled with reluctance;

I think this is just imagery representation for vanishingly small moments of joy? But also to set the path for the lights and stars that come later. The parts about the shooting star were sung by Fei Du, but the ‘obviously reluctant’ line was by Fei Du and Luo Wenzhou together. They timed it so well that it is a full sentence.

Song logic: Something wondrous that makes you feel fortunate to see it flashes by, and you feel reluctance to see it go. I gave the emotions to the shooting star because it was more Romantic, but you know they were felt by the observer(s) too. A pause to live in the moment. But then it's time to do something hard in the shadows. 

[6a] 我一人漂浪 岩浆滚烫漫过胸膛 心底的芬芳 向烈日生长 / [6b] …同时光 万寿 无疆 I am adrift alone, the molten lava’s searing flow rising past my chest; the fragrant blossoms in my heart reach toward the blazing sun. / …and with time, become boundless and everlasting. 

Preserving an alternate version of 6a here: I am adrift alone, the searing molten lava overflowing from my chest.

These are references to the ‘reflection letter’ Fei Du wrote, that though disguised as a prank to irk Luo Wenzhou with its mushiness, was actually a confession. I don't know at what point this was written canonically, but with the way Fei Du was coughing, I'd guess it's after something not great for general health and safety (likely that final thingy where he did the thing xD I have only vague memories of it).

In my heart, there is a thicket of flowers growing outstretched toward the blazing sun, more fragrant than all the finest wines. Their searing fragrance once flooded the chest of a man made of straw; and from then on, that straw man’s conviction would endure beyond time.

The story of this song only feels complete with this piece, which is why I wanted to keep them together xD

[7] 没有黎明不见曙光 You go to that faraway place where there is no sunrise, no first light…

黎明 is a [time] i.e. dawn, when the sky is about to turn light or has just started to turn light. 曙光 is that light itself. But also refers to the light of hope for a bright future.

[8] 也无悔 深渊 同往 but likewise - no regrets; you walk into the abyss, and I with you. 

I just wanted to yell about @decrescendo’s *YEETING* here: ‘No regrets, then - the abyss can have me too’. THAT WAS SO GOOD. I love it. It’s so creative and gets the vibe perfectly while being economical with wordcount xD

[9] 光阴在无度挥霍 分清善恶始末 Time is being squandered, discerning good from evil, where they begin and end.

I absolutely imagined this as a :/ and Luo Wenzhou figuratively tapping his disapproving fingers on Fei Du’s previous sentence. 

[10] 这人间万家灯火 值不值得 靠岸停泊 迷雾中湮没 光影 悄悄褪色 These twinkling lights of a million homes… are they worth mooring for? Lost within the fog, that brilliance quietly fades.

Literally what the text says here xD but I just want to sigh at the meandering journey he took to find a worthwhile *home* out of the ‘abyss’ in song logic.

[11] 两朵泡沫 two clouds of foam

朵 is literally the collective noun for cloud in Chinese xD I couldn't help it :P

[12] …礁石上相濡以沫... …two gasping fish upon the rocks spitting foam on each other…

Yup it’s that idiom! I moved the translation originally here right to the start xD There was also the full TL of a passage from Zhuangzi xD but it was pretty depressing and unrelated, and so was taken out. Maybe it can be its own thing sometime when I get around to reading the full text xD.

[13] 你温柔那刻 茫茫人海化作粉末... A moment of your tenderness, the vast indifferent sea of Others shattered…

From A hahahahh

YES

I also really like callback to the earlier 万家灯火 | twinkling lights of a million homes with 茫茫人海 | the crowd of people like a sea. That feeling of alienation (wanting and not having a light left on for you to come home to, being alone in the clamor of a crowd) can be crushingly lonely. And the moment of tenderness that shatters that and heals your pain!!! Just as worldview shaking as the blossoming flowers that flood the chest of the straw man :) 

[14] 我未经允诺 告别沙丘远离荒漠 只为那 一瞬 星火 ‘Without your permission’ I’ve left the sand dunes and the wastelands far behind, all for that one instant of starlight.

Making ‘without your permission’ a quote was a liberty I took after listening to this song on loop for a ridiculous number of times. The exceedingly formal 我未经允诺 - casually ‘without your permission’ but it’s actually on a more formal register than that, and I just don’t know how to render it lol - just really stood out as there was nothing about a promise to inform Luo Wenzhou or anything of the sort throughout the song. Fei Du has also never given any indication he was aware of anyone else in this duet until that verse that they sung together (because of surviving the yeet into the abyss with Luo Wenzhou?).

[15] 孤舟随烟波 渡我 A lone boat sails the misty waves - to save me.

And this is the basis for their names isn’t it? The boat and the person to be delivered from suffering.

[foxysunqueen]

In an alternate universe, where stories weave themselves into the winds and moonlight whispers secrets to the stars, something extraordinary is about to unfold! Join our fan fiction writers from different corners of the world as they craft their stories. Each writer brings their own magic, and together, they set out to rewrite the destiny of Gaon and Yohan. These aren’t just stories—these are love letters to the characters they adore. Join our storytellers as they weave fierce battles of "what if," epic sagas and true love’s first kiss.

Presenting this year’s TDJ writing Collaboration with the theme - Folklore/Fairytales. Writers will be anonymous and unveiled after the celebration (August 22nd!)

July 3rd: Fan art!

July 4th: The bough bends but does not break

"My parents used to read me stories from this book when I was young."

"The book must mean a lot to you." Elijah says, curious to know more but too proud to ask for more information. Gaon is more than happy to swallow his pride for Elijah. And it is not only Elijah who is curious about the book.

Gaon sees a long, slender hand run a finger through the hardcover and a chill settles behind him. He pointedly does not flinch though he cannot control the involuntary shiver.

Gaon and the reflection of reality in fairytales: a study of finding the truth and standing up for yourself

July 10th: Stories Like These

Ga on is a lonely Prince, keeping the court of his slaughtered parents. One autumn evening, a travelling band of poets and performers call and are welcomed through the castle gates. Their leader, an unusually gifted bard, proceeds to charm everyone with his words but it seems there is more to his stories than just the passing of a dark night.

Very loosely based on tales from the 1st and 4th branch of the Mabinogion, Medieval Welsh tales of magic, family and bloodshed

July 17th: Yo Han vs perchtenlauf

Ga on comes to europe after Elijah plans a trip to the Austrian alps. They are being domestic and figuring themselves out during a sleigh ride, a hearty dinner…and during a surprise encounter with some devils

July 18th: And Please, Don’t Drive Me Blind

Gaon is blindsided when his childhood best friend, Soohyun, is ripped out of his life without warning by an arranged marriage. Despite their promises to write to each other, Soohyun goes radio silent. Rumors abound around her mysterious groom, a reclusive Duke whose wives throughout the years have all gone missing under suspicious circumstances. Impulsive and reckless, Gaon leaves his current life behind, vowing to find Soohyun and save her from her unknown fate no matter the cost.

But Gaon may be in over his head.

Like a moth to the flame, Gaon cannot seem to stop himself from becoming inexplicably drawn in by the dark and mysterious Duke. Is the Duke truly the cold-hearted killer of rumors, or is there more to him than it seems?

Gaon quickly becomes entangled in a complex web of deceit, tragedy, murder, and a family curse.

The things of myths and legends are very real. And ghosts are knocking at the door.

July 24th: The Tale of Kang Yohan

Kang Yohan is a fae. His plan for revenge has been in process for a very long time, but his motivations change when he meets Kim Gaon and tries to bring him into his world.

July 31st: The Heart to Free Me

A story of an outcast who ends up in the clutches of a beast - Which one between the two of them turns out to be the devil in disguise? After all, what is the difference between a man and a monster?

August 1st: The Emperor and the Moon

Gaon took what belonged to Yohan, in order to stop him from crossing the point of no return. And that resulted in their separation for thousands of years to come until penance is done. Loosely based on two different stories. A Chinese myth about Chang Er who floated to the moon. And a historical figure who was the first emperor of China.

August 7th: Can The Nightingale Speak?

“When death finds you, may it find you alive."

The King silences, hands an incessant, unforgiving sword upon tongues. He watches in silence.

When Kim Gaon enters the court, fresh-faced and eyes lit with rebellion, a nightingale dips from her golden perch to seek his cage instead.

August 8th: The Fox Brother

Based on a Korean fairytale, the Saltseller and the Fox. Kim Ga On is a fox that stole the skull of Kang Yohan's older brother in order to kill the nobleman who stole the land of the peasants who used to feed him. Things get complicated when Kang Yohan binds him and decides to use his powers in his revenge quest.

August 14th: The Prince and the Frog

As prince Kang Yohan ventures out into the world in search of purpose and a cure for his loneliness, he stumbles upon an unlikely companion. A series of fateful events leads them on an adventure full of surprises.

August 22nd: A Songbird’s Proximity to Death

For the young emperor kim gaon, death and freedom - intertwined and inseparable - have never been strangers. The former has confined him, limited him, grounded him. The latter he finds in the empire's loveliest songbird: the nightingale, kang yohan.

We hope you can join us on this journey! Details to follow☺️

[nightxcreature]

Fated

Summary: reader is struggling with a decision about her life and who is in control of it.

Warnings: None really. Slight mentions of spice, but not smut. 18+ either way though please.

A/N: My fourth one for @jacklesversebingo 😍 I loved writing this one! This one knocks out the prompt “When were you going to mention you could do that?” Prompt is in bold. 🫶🏼

Headlights shine in my eyes from the opposite side of the highway as I coast easily toward the nearest motel. Sam passed out in the backseat a few hours ago and I had finally convinced Dean to give me the wheel shortly after so he could get a few hours of rest before we head to the police station. We’d been pulling an all nighter toward a small town in Wisconsin, signs of vampiric activity and a few local legends had sent us this way with no signs of sleep in sight.

I had snagged some of my own tapes from my bag before Dean placed his head in my lap and immediately knocked out. Heart had been my only company for the last 60 miles. I slowly nodded along to the beginning riff of Magic Man as Ann Wilson’s soprano pulls me into a performance of my own.

“Cold, late night so long ago when I was not so strong ya know, pretty man came to me, never seen eyes so blue.” I sang along, one hand falling into Deans hair rubbing soft circles into his temple as he sleeps. We hadn’t been…whatever we are, for long, just a few months of flirty banter and stolen kisses, but I’ve never felt so adored in my life. He looked at me as though I had hung the moon and stars just for him.

“You know I could not run away, it seemed we’d seen each other in a dream. Seemed like he knew me, he looked right through me.” I was given the gift of sight as a child, the gift being passed down generation to generation in my family. Most of my visions were quick and to the point, never lengthy and always to do with the people and situations close to me. So when I’d had a premonition several months ago of two strange men being attacked by a shapeshifter in Lebanon, confused was an understatement. But, something about Dean’s green eyes and freckled face had pulled me in, as if being tugged along by a string. Shortly after getting us all to safety, Castiel had come to me in a dream, showing me images that came from the Big Man Upstairs. I was meant to be with the brothers, meant to join their fight, and navigate the strange relationship I’d found in the older brother.

Angels, Demons, and the like had never crossed my mind. Sure, a gift like mine must’ve come from somewhere, but God? I couldn’t believe it. And yet, the two men I’d helped were quick to ease me into the life. Sam and I had gotten closer over the time I’d been with them, joking and bonding over the nerdiest of things. He had quickly become one of my greatest friends. My relationship with Dean, however, was like a fire igniting in my soul, I was attracted to him like a moth to the flame. We hadn’t labeled anything, and I assumed we never would, but that was perfectly okay with me. What good is a label when God himself has decided that you’re fated to belong to one another, body and soul, whether you like it or not.

Fighting through the feelings that Dean brought out of me was debilitating at times. Deciding if they were of my own volition or if they came from some kind of divine intervention was one of the most exhausting things I’d ever tried to do. But the attraction we felt for one another was undeniable. “Try to understand, oh try to understand. He’s a magic man, oh, he’s got magic hands.” If Dean’s eyes were the doorway to his affection for me, his hands were the key. He knew my body down to the smallest dimple in such a short time, I would’ve thought he’d known me my entire life had we not met only a few months prior. He was everything I could’ve dreamed of in a lover; hard as stone one minute, ravaging and using me to his own release, and then soft and sweet the next. Night after night I was reminded of the way he felt for me, whether we were tangled up in the sheets or lying close together whispering in the dark.

“Come on home, girl, he said with a smile. You don’t have to love me yet, let’s get high a while. But try to understand, try to understand, try, try, try to understand…he’s a magic man.” I felt him stir below me before I heard him speak. His raspy voice pulling from my trip down memory lane, “Pretty.” He whispered, causing me to glance down and meet his sleepy smile with one of my own, “When were you going to mention you could do that?”

“Do what?” I question, confusion crossing my features, “Sing?”

“Yeah, like that.” He groans, rubbing his eyes.

I smile again, running my hands through his hair as I watch the sun begin to rise in front of me, “When were you going to ask?”

He chuckles and raises a brow, a teasing smile on his face, “Are soulmates supposed to ask? I figured we would just know.”

I glance quickly down at him, confused once more, “Soulmates? Is that what we are?”

He stretches and sits up, sliding to the middle of the bench seat and placing an arm around my shoulders, “I assumed you knew. That’s what I thought Cas was implying from the Big Guy. Is that okay with you?”

I shrug and smile nervously, “I wasn’t labeling anything. I’m not too sure how I feel about having no control over who I spend my life with. All these angels and demons seem to do is take away every choice we have.”

“I like to think that I’d choose you every life, not just this one.” He whispers, the light from the rising sun causing his green eyes to shine, “Monsters, angels, God, who cares? I choose you…even if you’re not sure about choosing me.”

I slowly pull the car into a spot at the first motel, throwing us into park and turning quickly to face him. He’s got a nervous blush to his cheeks, the first time I’ve ever seen him unsure about something. My chest aches knowing I’ve caused him to second guess himself.

“I think I’d choose you, too. I just…I want to be the one choosing. Not some guy in the sky, you know?” He nods as I speak and takes my face in his hands, the warmth of them causing me to close my eyes. His lips press to mine in a short, soft kiss and he places his forehead against mine.

His breathing is a little heavy when he finally sighs and smiles, “I can wait. I’m a little impatient, but when you know that you’re the one choosing, not some old white haired guy in the sky, let me know.”

“Thank you.” I whisper leaning into him and capturing his lips once more. I don’t know for certain that this is love, but I know that it feels like love. I know that if I were to find this attraction on my own, I would cling tight and never let go. I find hope in that, in the feeling of knowing that this magical man could truly be the love I’ve always yearned for and not just some pawn in a bored God’s game.

——————————————————————————

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this one! I hope you’ve enjoyed reading it! Requests are open as is being added to my tag list!

Tags: @lmhf1 @whimsyfinny @daisydark @k-slla @enigmalynne @envysarchive

[justpoliteconversations]

Of A Feather [Legend x Winged!Reader]

Birds of a feather and all that nonsense.

One of the fic requests from this Post. It grows.

Masterlist

TW: None.

Disclaimer: Don't own The Legend of Zelda franchise. Linked Universe is the fan creation of jojo56830.

---

Hidden in the joists above the common room, you gaze upon your lover with keen interest from the darkened ceiling supports. Watching closely as he stripped from his outer armor and protective clothing at the doorway of your shared (with Ravio too, but he had snuck out earlier that morning, leaving you with the morning chores the jerk) home. Taking in, with the greatest appreciation and spine tingling delight, the elegant arch of his lithe back muscles, the hard flex of his thighs and calves as he bent over to take his boots off.

Even more appreciatively though, you watched as his nimble, ringed fingers went through the motions, each polished, glimmering stone drawing you in like a moth to flame. You drew slow, controlled breaths as the leather cord of a necklace (several, in fact) was revealed across his nape, teasing you with the promise of the elaborate nest of precious stones you knew lay at your love's chest.

Hn. Maybe you'd forgive Ravio for abandoning you this morning. You'd accept a little light work as payment for this moment of private (because Ravio always had something to say, the fucker), unabashed ogling. The bastard was rather intelligent and liked you well enough most days, so he'd probably done it on purpose (he had, because he was getting bored of your constant whining while Legend was gone. and because he hated dusting day).

Link snorted, quite unattractively at that, and cast a sly glance over his shoulder to your hiding place. You caught a glimpse of something shining at his collarbones and your heart nearly arrested. "You gonna come down and greet your man or just stare all day?" He snarked, teasingly, a barely contained smile forced into the visual of a smirk.

You saw through it all though. Your Link had always been such a needy bunny when he first got home from one of his advantures. Just one little peck on the cheek or wrist, and he'd putty in your hands.

That wasn't fun though. First, you needed to play the game.

"My man?" You snarked back, leaning over the joist so he could see your glinting eyes in the darkness. Unnerving to most, but you could see the way red crept up the collar of his tunic, under the straps of leather promise. "My man wouldn't come home without bringing back something good. As an apology for leaving his poor beloved all alone in this big, empty (Link snorted, because empty? really?) house."

Link's smirk twitched, resisting the urge to drop into a fond smile at your poor excuse of a hook and reel. He bit anyway, because how could you not when you seemed so proud of your little comeback.

"My apologies, most beloved in all the land." That you rolled your eyes at. "Let this humble knight make amends to his Angel." The words rolled so smoothly off his tongue as he fell back on his little used mannerisms.

Turning to face you fully, he beckoned you to him with a single raised hand (the one with the red jeweled ring you adored so much), keeping the other at the small of his back. He was bent slightly at the waist, staring up at you with amused, smoldering eyes framed by attractively tussled pink-blonde bangs. Displaying the thick tangle of beauty hanging in a dazzling curtain from his neck, at his collarbone. A choker hidden just at the base of his throat, lined with richly colored gemstones.

How could you refuse a siren's call.

You fell from the supports with careless ease, and with a brief snap of motion, glided on great, gleaming black wings to the floor below. Loose papers flutter at the gentle swish of wind left in your wake, the soft sway of tapestries, pictures and maps a quiet symphony to your passing.

You saw the way his sharp eyes took you in with covetous admiration, locked on the carefully (purposeful) arranged constellation of colorful stars dotted against your perfectly preened feathers and skin. A welcome home gift and a punishment all at once, delicate chains of gold and silver binding many of his most prized treasures close to your skin, your wondrous wings.

You landed before him with the delicate chime of jewels and chains, rearing to your full height in a blatant show of presentation. Raising your neck to display the gorgeous necklaces (his necklaces, his prizes, hard won and kept in the darkest of dungeons) and flicking your ears to rattle the intricate, dangling earrings (collected over a lifetime, by his scarred battle-worn hands) caressing against your neck.

Upon your forehead you could feel the silky sway of your hair ornaments resting in artful waves, lines of thin bands woven into the strains of your locks. The subtle weight of glittering temptation rested upon your wings with confident poise, a masterpiece of flesh and stone.

You held out your left hand to the man (waiting, anticipating). Revealing a thin, polished band upon a singular finger, painstakingly crafted metal so luminescent it glowed even in the daylight. Perfect, but for the warped edge you so adored to run your thumb across on those long, lonely nights (crafted by the hands of the man you love, and offered on one knee with an open, willing heart).

"Well, my knight." You said, smiling around far too many teeth. Hiding the way your heart thundered at the sight of his haggard, sleep deprived but dearly missed face. "Make your amends."

He leaned forward and placed a kiss, slow and lingering, upon the hand of his greatest treasure (having naught the strength to deny himself his longing any longer with his heart's desire so close). "Of course, my most beloved." His placed his forehead to the ring, falling to one knee with a tender smile across his lips. "Whatever you command of me."

And you smiled back, dropping to your knees as well to swoop him into your arms, wings circled around you both in a flutter of constellations. Kissing him on the nose, the game lost before it'd even begun. "Take a bath. You stink."

"Huh!?"

---

Some miles away.

"So. This buisness partner he's talking to." Twilight began (again), trying and failing to stare down the strangely dressed man Legend had summarily dumped them on (again). "Are they really as ruthless as you say?"

Ravio threw his head back, hands on his hips and back straight as he squeaked obnoxiously (mischievously). "The most ruthless I've ever met! The first to ever put Mr. Hero soundly on his knees!" At the other Hero's widened eyes, the merchant waved a dismissive hand. "Fear not though! Mr. Hero is experienced with their cunning ways! He won't be taken advantage of so easily a second time!"

"Still-" Twilight started, only to be stopped by a large, assuring hand on his shoulder.

"He's got this Rancher." Time said, an impish gleam in his eye that went unnoticed by the twilight hero. "He's Legend, after all."

After a brief, silent stare Twilight eventually conceded with a small, teasing smile. "You're right. He probably doesn't want us to see him getting bested in his own time, is all."

"Yeah." Time hummed agreeably as he cast a knowing smirk at the hooded merchant. "That's what it is." He winked, or blinked (or maybe he did nothing at all). Hard to tell with only one eye.

Behind the hood, Ravio rolled his own eyes, exasperated.

'You owe me so many rupees when I get back, Crow!'

"Hey? Where's Hyrule?"

"Wasn't he with you?"

"No! Wild had him!"

"Had Who?"

'If I ever get back!'

---

Back to the shadows to rest my weary mind.

[chillydeer]

Привет, Человек-мотылек!

My aunt introduced me to Astonishing Legends a couple nights ago, and so far I really like the podcast it's great, I watched all of the Mothman ones so far (that I knew of, I found out this morning there's a part 5) and while listening started drawing this lil fella.

I thought the whole thing was super interesting, I loved all the tangents, and most interestingly I tried to look into the 2013 show they mentioned, following the similar stories in Dalnegorsk. They mentioned it being entirely in Russian and hey, whaddya know, I'm trying to learn Russian anyways and figured it would help since I'm already interested in this topic and it would keep me engaged. Couldn't find it (I searched as well as I could, maybe I was using the wrong keywords, I couldn't find it in their show notes sadly, if you happen to know about it/have a link or something I would be thrilled to know) but I did make this art so! That's cool! I wanted to make him a little more detailed but also wanted it to kind of speak for itself? So I stuck with this.

Because I drew this up while listening, I very much took after the descriptions I was hearing with this design. He's kind of like a bird-man?? In a lot of the descriptions??? So I tried to combine bird and moth traits here. I love the neck fluff, any day I don't have to draw a jawline is a good day in my book, and I believe as they were going through the Dalnegorsk story one account mentioned bird-like feet with one toe on the back. Originally I actually skipped that, but it came up as I was doing the lineart so I went "oh that's a neat detail," and yeah, it looks better. At like the very end I gave him a second pair of little mothy arms on his back because they're cute and I figured moths have six legs Mothman can have four arms. Every description I saw specified big muscular legs, not skinny bird legs, So of course, I did my best.

Definitely in the Dalnegorsk part, they mention he just, gave them a sad look and it compelled them to back off, which didn't do much for the art in truth, but I found that very very interesting and sort of entertaining to think about. You got this big scary bird fella and instead of attacking them or scaring them he just pulled at their heartstrings, because he could.

Also complaining about folks exploring the mountain was kinda funny

Admittedly, I have a very love-hate relationship with drawing bird feet, because on one hand they don't come very easily to me, but on the other, they look really cool and I enjoy when they turn out good. This is one of those cases, at least in my opinion, where I do think they look nice.

All in all I love how this turned out, very big fan. Regarding the Russian up top, I also saw Молерот used for Mothman as it's shorter, but looking for more context almost everything I did see using it was Fallout-related, so I figured I'd just use Человек-мотылек as it at least seems to mostly bring up stuff about The Mothman Prophecies and some other stuff at least somewhat related to him. Not that the Fallout stuff isn't, I suppose, but that feels more like an offshoot in my mind.

If you have any tips (or learning resources that don't involve me paying for a subscription I'll hardly use- books, free stuff, etc) I'd be thrilled to hear it. So far I'm not having too hard of a time, though, the hardest part is the special characters so far but otherwise I'd say I'm doing well by my own standards.

[pengujoon]

WITH ALL OF ME

cont. gojo x reader, fluff. use of my love, just reader being so in love with him. of course they kiss, this is a very soft fic, established relationship!au, intentional lowercase.

a/n. can you tell that im so lovesick for his man. 

song. john legend - all of me

the room was cast in a warm, inviting glow, the soft light of a dozen candles flickering like stars in the night sky. you and satoru had carved out this moment, a space for just the two of you, where the world outside was a distant memory. in this intimate haven, love hung heavy in the air, and your heart swelled with every beat in perfect harmony with his.

satoru sat beside you, his presence filling the room with a magnetic energy that drew you in like a moth to a flame. as you gazed at him, your heart couldn't help but swell with a deep, profound affection. his eyes held the universe within them, a cosmos of secrets and emotions that were yours to explore.

his smile, that mischievous, yet tender smile, was your favourite work of art. it had the power to chase away your worries, to melt your heart, and to ignite a fire of passion within you. when he laughed, it was as if a symphony of joy filled the room, and you couldn't help but be swept away by the melody.

you watched as he reached out, his fingers tracing an invisible path in the air. his voice, soft and filled with warmth, filled the room like a sweet serenade. it was a voice that could lull you to sleep or awaken the deepest desires within your heart.

every line of his face, every curve of his lips, and every spark in his eyes held a story, a story that you cherished, for you were the author of this chapter of his life. his vulnerabilities, his strengths, and his quirks were all part of the tapestry of your love.

satoru's hand found yours, fingers interlacing with a familiarity that sent shivers down your spine. the touch was electric, a connection that transcended words. in that moment, you felt like you were part of something greater, like you were two souls that had found their forever home in each other's arms.

the tenderness in his gaze was enough to make your heart skip a beat. his fingers traced delicate patterns on your hand, a silent language of affection that spoke volumes. every touch was a declaration of love, every caress an affirmation of your bond.

as you leaned in, your lips met his in a kiss that tasted like eternity. it was a kiss that spoke of a love deeper than words, a love that knew no bounds. in that kiss, you poured all your affection, all your desire, and all your dreams.

and as you pulled away, breathless and content, you whispered the words that your heart had been singing since the moment you met him. “i love you, satoru, with all of me.”

“my love.” he looked at you, his gaze unwavering, and in that moment, you knew that his love mirrored your very own. with a smile that held the promise of forever, he replied, “and i love you, with all of me too.”

no other words were needed, for your hearts spoke a language of love that transcended any language of the world. you closed your eyes and leaned in for another kiss, a sweet, tender affirmation of your love.

in the warmth of his embrace, surrounded by the warm, gentle light of the candles, you knew that you were exactly where you were meant to be, living your own love song, a melody that would play in your hearts for all eternity.

the chokehold this man has on me

[martamatta95]

Thanks to @westernmanergy and his great post about Valentino the vigilante/urban legend, he inspired me to post this because I decided to write some snippets that I've been putting off for months.

I've been thinking about this AU in the style of Turning Red (Pixar movie) for a while now. A Puerto Rican boy who, due to a family curse, wakes up one day in the body of this ten-foot-tall moth.

And here I need your help guys, I'm a fan of staticmoth so:

where do I place Vox in all this? And I had several inspirations, student Val has a crush on? Or Hot teacher?

Consider that in this AU I want to make Valentino older than the protagonist of Turning Red so 16/18 years old.

Then I also thought what if the abilities/appearance of the Moth activates when our poor boy has impure thoughts and gets excited? What if Vox is a hunter of mythological creatures/exterminator and Velvette is his assistance? Did they go undercover in this school following reports of paranormal/demonic activity? What if Vox is also afflicted by a curse?

My favorite option is Valentino who is figuring out his sexuality and struggling with the issues of a normal teenager, meanwhile he has to take care of his little sister Verosika, while his mother is single and works two jobs to support her children.

In the midst of all this, one day he suffers a major public humiliation (I'm trying to decide what) and that night he has strange nightmares of terrifying creatures. The next morning he wakes up in the body of a ten foot tall moth and from there chaos ensues as he tries to hide and master this new ability, balance his 'normal' life, the strange instincts of the moth that make him more sensitive and receptive.

Added to all this is the arrival of a new trendy student who Val quickly befriends and the new math teacher who Valentino develops a crush on and the moth squeaks kick in when that beautiful man is around.

And what do you think? Feel free to tell me your opinions on this silly AU.

As always my native language is not English so I apologize for any mistakes

PS I want a little Verosika hugging her soft big brother💓🦋

[mahaaaaaa]

An excerpt from "The Hollow kings: A chronicle of the cursed king.

By Tsukaimaru Hikaru

The king had no wives, not by marriage, nor by blood, but by the accounts of the humble servants, and curses of King Sukuna, there was one. a girl. pale as bone ash and always in white never far behind.

of Sukuna Ryomen and the girl called Asa:

Much has been speculated of the king of curses, the two faced king Imaginary Demon. His reign has bridge across decades spreading his bloodlust, his sadism, and his savagery - an empire built of curses and bloodshed.

But to speak of Sukuna without speaking of lady Asa is to summon thunder without recognising the storm clouds.

The lady - if she was a lady - arrives in records without ancestry, without date, without prior mention. Lady asa appears not in birth indexes nor in property rolls, but in the accounting index of a brothel that has been ruined. it is said she was purchased alongside a set of cursed dice and a sliver mirror.

Many eyewitnesses describe the moment as followed:

"She stood in the rain chained by the wrists. She didn't flinch when he looked at her. She spoke first ' you are the fire beneath the crypt'.

From that moment on lady asa was seen beside him, or seated on silk cushions while he conducted his blackened affairs. She rarely spoke, though when she did, many sometimes wept, or bled from the nose, or confessed to murders they had never committed.

she stitched, always seen with a needle and thread. Her fingers moved like spiders over silk, while his men argued, bodies dragged, and the king passed silent judgment. She once had embroidedna moth into the sleeve of Sukuna coat. He tore it out and set it aflame. Later, he wore the ashes in a locket he kept hidden.

Accounts of her presence vary:

. One profess she bought rain when she walked.

. Another said she could nit cast a shadow, unless watched.

. A third swore she spoke to a monarch of butterflies, and they listened.

On her magic:

Though officially unaffiliated with any curse family, Asa exhibited the marks of the broken dreamers - a class of mystic capable of manifesting memory guilt, and prophecy in sensory form. Her curse was consuming, like inhaling dust: unnoticed until too late.

one man wrote in his final letters:

"she looked at me. Just once. I saw my mother's corpse hanging in the hall. But my mother's still alive. She waved at me yesterday."

On her role:

What lady Asa was to king Sukuna remains a matter of debate. He never called her lover, wife, or ward. No contracts bound her, no temple sanctified their bond. Yet she untouchable - no man dared speak her name, let alone approach her without the kings nod.

He had concubines. He had killers. But only one woman stitched his wounds, and only one woman's voice he obeyed in dreams.

The Red month:

It is known that Sukuna had once forbade her to wear red. This lasted until a festival was held by the villagers in his honour, when she appeared at his table in a sheer crimson robe.

the feast went silent. He said nothing.

Later that night Sukuna burned the dress, then ordered her to wear only red for the next lunar cycle. When asked why. he replied:

" let the world know what blood looks like when it breaths".

Her death ( unconfirmed )

Many people state that she died long before sukuna. others say she lives still, ageless, walking temple ruins where moths gather thick as fog. There are counterfeits reports of a pale woman seen sitting in the sunless carriages - always with a thread in her hands.

What is certain is this: Sukuna, for all his terror and legend, slept only in bed. And when that was empty, his wrath spilled over the city like ink over a map.

"she was not his queen" wrote one scribe. " she was the ghost he could not banish. And in the end, I do not believe he wanted."

[reignseclipse]

Cocaine 4

Song inspo

Roman reigns x Kaia (OC)

Warnings: heavy teasing, flirting, angst, suggestive themes, story below the cut

@trippinsorrows @acknowledge-reigns @violetmuses @beccalynns-world @lov3rla03 @jazzyboo123-blog1

As they landed in italy, Kaia took in the scenery. The old cathedrals beckoning her like a moth to a flame. She loved medieval history. It was always something Jey never wanted to talk with her about. He thought it was to macabre, but Kaia thought differently. From stories about dragons to the legend of King Arthur and even the dark history of the days of the bubonic plague, she found it all fascinating.

Roman seemed to sense her awe "it's beautiful isn't it?" He smiled, looking out the window with her.

"it's gorgeous" she smiled back.

"we still have the rest of today and tomorrow if you wanna go site seeing" he said, knowing immediately what her answer would be.

"really?" Kaia nearly shouted, her face lighting up.

A wide smile crossed his face "of course, anything you want while we're here."

Kaia squealed, eager to see what secrets Italy held, The keys to the past at her fingertips. Yet, thoughts still crossed her mind. If Roman knew all this, why couldn't Jey have done it? Did he never love her all along? She quietly pushed those thoughts out of her head, choosing to focus on the days ahead. What happened with Jey could wait for later. Right now she simply wanted to enjoy her time with Roman. He seemed to care for her, though she still wasn't quite sure if it was because he was happy to be getting back at his soon to be ex wife, or if he genuinely did.

They stepped off the jet, grabbing their carry ons. When Kaia stepped onto the stairs, Roman held out his hand to help guide her down, something she wasn't use to. When her and Jey traveled, he would always expect her to fend for herself. He never did even half the things Roman is doing now. This was something she could get use to.

"thank you" she smiled warmly.

Roman smiled back "no need to thank me, I'm just doing what any man should do"

Kaia's smile faded briefly, her eyes averting away, not going unnoticed by Roman "Kaia?" He questioned.

Kaia looked back at him "Jey never did" she admitted.

Romans expression softened "Kaia, I'm not like Jey. Don't get me wrong, I love him because he's my family, but that doesn't mean I approve of everything he does. The only reason I'm really not gonna strangle him is because he's blood."

Kaia let out a small laugh "you may not, but he's not my blood." She said coldly. Roman was taken a back for a moment, though he understood why she would say something like that given the situation.

"I don't think his mom, or his twin would take to kindly to that. I'm sure they might understand a harsh whoopin though" he laughed.

Kaia smiled widely "that's gonna be the least of Jey's worries"

Roman raised an eyebrow, seeing the wheels in kaia's head turning "come on, we'll discuss things over dinner. I'm starving and we're in Italy. We can have authentic Italian food." A wide smile forming on his face.

Kaia playfully rolled her eyes "chicken Parmesan does sound good right about now."

Roman let out a hearty laugh "baby girl, they got so much more then chicken Parmesan here. It's Italy. Authentically Italy. Live a little and have some actual food."

Kaia sighed, crossing her arms and feigning annoyance well if you're just gonna shove food down my throat I guess I'll just have to eat it." She smiled, her eyes giving her suggestiveness away.

Roman picked up on her hint, a smirk forming on his face as he leaned forward to whisper in her ear with a low husky growl "I'll shove something down your throat later."

Kaia shivered at his words, anticipation surging through her. They'd had sex multiple times, but something about his deminor this time was different. He seemed far more mischievous then before.

Kaia tilted her head, her breath hot against Romans skin, a small giggle escaped her parted lips "dont threaten me with a good time."

Roman smiled widely "that's my good girl" he whispered back to her, noticing kaia's breath hitching at his words "come on let's go eat."

He pulled away from her with a wide smile on his face, knowing exactly how she felt in the moment, yet not being able to do anything because they were in public. A frustrated sigh escaped her lips as she intertwined her fingers with his. To the outside world they seemed like any other happy couple, the truth only being known to them and the 2 people they needed to confront.

Later that night

In the hotel room, the discussion had turned to what Kaia wanted to do that might. A bottle of wine sat at the edge of the table, barely touched aside from the sample Kaia had taken.

"this is gonna sound crazy, but I wanna see the night life" she smiled "I've never been to a night club let alone one in Italy"

Roman smiled widely "I like the sound of that,let me see what I can find." He pulled out his phone, scrolling through Google. Pictures of one caught his attention. He turned his phone around to Kaia "what about this one?"

Kaia looked intently at Romans phone, her eyes drawn to the ambiance of the interior of the building "I like that one" She smiled.

"then let's go" he smiled, grabbing his wallet and the keys to the hotel room "it's just down the street. We don't even have to drive" he held out his arm for Kaia again, a wide smile forming on her face.

They walked out of the hotel, the air bitting their faces. One thing Kaia was blown away by was how much different it smelt here. It smelled fresh, not the polluted smell of a busling American city.

They walked down the street to the night club, ready to let all their worries disappear behind it's doors.

Kaia's eyes widened when the bouncer opened the door. It's dance floor was huge, something she was hoping for. As she walked inside, she felt a hand grab her arm and almost swung before she realized it was Roman "easy!" He shouted, her wrist in his grasp.

"sorry" she laughed.

He smiled "it's no problem."

Kaia started relaxing when familiar music filled her ears, shaking her hips to the beat, falling into the sea of people, with Roman by her side. His hands traveled down her sides, resting on her waist. Her ass grinding against him. For the first time Kaia felt at peace. Roman licked his lips on her neck, planting gentle kisses along her shoulder.

Suddenly Kaia stiffened, every muscle in her body ridged with anger. Something she couldnt fathom happening was right in front of her eyes "Kaia?" Roman shouted, before looking up and following her line of sight.

"Jey?" Kaia squealed out.

Romans eyesbrows furrowed "Galina?"

Jey and Galina looked like a deer in headlights, the jig was up and Jey couldnt be pissed seeing his wife with his cousin. The only thing Jey could manage to say was "I'm sorry"

[heavenboy09]

20 Years Ago Today. On September 11th, 2004

From Warner Bros Animation & DC COMICS Presents

A New Take On The Legend Of The Dark Knight's Adventures

This animated adventure series of Bruce Wayne -- billionaire by day, crime fighter by night --

S

tarts as Wayne balances life as a free-wheeling bachelor with his role as the Caped Crusader.

He's joined on occasion by Robin and Batgirl. Black Mask, Killer Moth, the Everywhere Man and a brand-new Clayface join the Joker, Penguin and Riddler in ceaselessly tormenting Gotham City.

Can Batman stop them once and for all?

Find Out In This New But Classic Take On The Popular Kids WB / Cartoon Network Animated Series Of The Early 2000's

WARNER BROS ANIMATION, DC COMICS, KIDS WB & CARTOON NETWORK

PRESENTS

THE BATMAN 🦇

HAPPY 20TH ANNIVERSARY TO WARNER BROS ANIMATION, DC COMICS & KIDS WB / CARTOON NETWORK'S

THE BATMAN 🦇

#TheBatman2004 #BruceWayne #AlfredPennyworth #Robin #Batgirl #LuciusFox #TheWayneFamily #JusticeLeague #EthanBennet #EllenYin #ComissionerGordon #GCPD #TheJoker #ThePenguin #Catwoman #Bane #MrFreeze #TheRiddler #ManBat #Firefly #Clayface #KillerCroc #PoisonIvy #BlackMask #GothamCity #TheDarkKnight

#WarnerBrosAnimation #KidsWB #CartoonNetwork #DCCOMICS