#Rune x Hound

[weasleyreidstyles]

Serendipity

chapter three

summary: it was only meant to be a purely transactional relationship. he would help her strengthen her abilities in return for her getting his friends out of his father's nasty path. he didn't mean to fall for her, but loving her was the easiest thing in his dark world.

no use of y/n, but your general nickname is Meadow. All characters are aged up to be over 18.

pairings: mattheo riddle x fem!ravenclaw reader; platonic!slytherins x fem!reader; platonic!golden trio x fem!reader

warning(s): cannonical violence, mentions of dark magic and torture

series masterlist; previous part; next part

Over the next few weeks, you and Riddle met up in one of the abandoned Astronomy classrooms to practice your lessons, and the library where you really did attempt to tutor him in Ancient Runes, with little to no luck. He was hopeless at the subject.

You were not friends by any means. You were like oil and water, not willing to step over the line that separated friend from foe. He was infuriating as ever, and he seemed to find your incessant need for asking questions entirely incorrigible. But you'd both come to an understanding: this was a necessary sacrifice for the greater good of your mutual friends. It needed to be done.

Your own friends were starting to question the hours you spent with him and it was becoming increasingly more difficult to lie when Harry spent every spare waking hour, that wasn't spent in school or on the Quidditch pitch, scanning the Marauder's Map.

In this particular session, Riddle had bombarded your thoughts with so much information and strain that you thought you'd pass out from exhaustion at any second.

"You're unfocused." he stated, unamused as he watched your hazed expression.

"You've been hounding me, for hours. I'm tired Riddle. Give me a break." you mumbled, voice low and resentful.

No. It's only been fifteen minutes. Due to your lack of focus, the burning sensation had come back at full force, causing you to stumble into the desk behind you.

He tutted, as he wrapped a strong arm around your waist to support you from injury, knowing Theo would probably maim him if something happened to you. When his hands retreated, his touch left a tingling sensation in its wake.

"Fine. 20 minutes. But the hour's not up yet. We'll carry on afterwards." he sounded as irritated as he looked, which had become a common occurrence in these sessions, not helped by your sarcastic commentary whenever you had the strength to cause an argument with him.

You closed your eyes for what felt like seconds, but it must've been for the duration of your 'break' because he woke you up with a forceful nudge.

"Breaks over. Now block me out like I showed you. We both know you're capable, prove to me that this wasn't a massive waste of time."

The burning sensation was back once again but it was duller than before, more manageable.

Ron saving the most goals he'd ever saved in one singular match.

Trying to teach Riddle a simple Rune pattern.

Hermione running out of the Gryffindor common room, tears streaming down her face.

Lavender Brown snogging your best friend.

You successfully locked your thoughts away, securing the lid of the 'box' with a mental thud, watching as the distinct orb of energy you'd recognised as Riddle's magical core, floated to a standstill in your mind.

"Good." he says, his face impassive. "Again."

He enters your mind with more vigour, but you're prepared this time, focusing your energy on keeping the ball of his magic confined to one area of your mind, to stop him unlocking all your thoughts.

What he didn't know was that you'd been reading up on Occlimency in any spare time you had to yourself, which was slim. You focused all your attention on that bright silver orb in your mind and pushed back with as much strength as you could muster. Startled, Riddle's shields fell momentarily.

You found yourself watching him from an outsider's perspective. You were in his home, the Riddle mannor, which gave off an air of stale coldness. Like death itself had taken up residence there. Then you heard it. The low hissing of a snake, Nagini – the snake that had attacked Arthur Weasley just over a year ago.

You watched as she glided past you, towards the shadow of a figure you were too afraid to face.

"My son." Voldemort says, in a creepy sort of drawl. "Have you done as I requested?"

You watched as Riddle, cold and indifferent as always, sucked in a breath before he stared his father in the face. Wordlessly he let the double doors behind him open, letting Malfoy and Berkshire stumble into the room, eyes flickering nervously.

"Yes father." he sounded resentful. And you caught the glance he shared with his two friends. He looked remorseful and almost...sad.

"And what of Master Nott? Master Zabini?" you saw Riddle's facade fall for only a moment, then watched as his shields slipped as he cradled the back of his head with a barely contained wince. Voldemort was in his head.

"Very interesting, my son." Voldemort hissed, eyes narrowed on the boy, who looked entirely too small under his father's watchful glare. "This must be remedied. Perhaps a little punishment will remind you of your place."

Then you watched as a father cast an unforgivable on his only living heir.

You were forced out of his mind with a push similar to what you had done to him, and when you cast your eyes onto his, you found twin obsidian irises...glaring at you.

"Satisfied?" he snarled, stalking towards you, backing you against the wall of the classroom. "Do you feel accomplished, sweetheart?"

The way his fists clashed with the wall on either side of your head prevented you from interpreting this new nickname. You stared up at him, shock and apprehension painting your features.

His eyes, once a cool, calming brown were like deep, black holes, narrowed on your expression. It scared you, rendered you speechless.

You should be scared, sweetheart. I didn't give you permission to do that. Gods, even the voice in your head was frightening. He was menacing.

He seemed to break out of his staring trance and shook his head slightly, as if this was an outer body experience for him. He looked surprised at being so close to you; you swore his eyes trailed from your own to your lips, but it must've been a nasty trick of the light, to dissuade you from this crazed persona he suddenly harboured.

He sighed as he pushed off the wall and without a word, he left. Once again leaving you standing alone in a dark, empty room.

~∞~

The first Hogsmeade trip of the year is always a fun affair. You remember the very first time you stepped out of the carriage onto the cobblestone streets of the town with Ron and Hermione during your third year. And just like that first time, it was magical every year.

This year seemed extra special. Snow was falling heavily from the bright white sky and the third years were having fun throwing snowballs at each other. You were bundled up in warm clothes: hat, scarf, gloves and giant coat, in hopes of not having your limbs freeze.

"I am begging you," you mumble to the Golden trio, who walked beside you, "can we please go to the Three Broomsticks? I'm in need of a Butterbeer. Or better yet, a hot chocolate. I'm so fucking cold."

Ron only laughed at you while you shivered; they all agreed before he yelped and began hastily running away when he realised his detrimental mistake.

The idiot had dumped a load of snow on your head.

"RONALD!" you scream, but it's drowned out by your own laughter, along with Harry and Hermione's, the latter of which hadn't laughed much recently. "I'll get you for that you wanker!"

Your friends had seldom had time to have a proper laugh this year. Each busy with their own endeavours: Ron with his new girlfriend Lavender; Harry with Slughorn, under Dumbledore's ample instruction and Hermione, who was putting all her effort into avoiding the former and trying to persuade Harry to get rid of his potions book (which had given him a fast track to top of the class). It was a wonder that you'd convinced them to come along.

When you entered the pub, sodden and cold from the barrage of snow that Ron had unleashed on you, the warmth of Madame Rosmerta's heating charms caressed you like a tight hug. Unwrapping your scarf from your shoulders and removing your coat, gloves and hat, you slumped into the cushioned seat of a nearby empty table, not taking into account the surrounding occupants.

Riddle was sat among his friends, watching you. He'd been doing that more since he walked out on you a week ago. He didn't turn up to your next session a few days afterwards, and when he didn't show earlier that day, you walked out of the room, incredibly annoyed. But you weren't about to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he was beginning to affect you.

As you sat side on at the table, with Ron facing his back to them, you saw how, despite his guard being held up extremely well, he huffed a laugh when Enzo said something entirely unfunny and rolled his eyes when Theo said something dramatic. You also saw how his jaw visibly clenched when Pansy was talking about the recent boyfriend who ended up being a complete dick. You wouldn't be surpised to find the boy beaten to a bloody pulp later.

You paid attention to your friends when Harry dropped a steaming cup of hot chocolate in front of you.

"You truly are a life saver, oh Chosen One." you tease as he takes the seat opposite you.

"Piss off." he mumbles, but the smirk on his face tells you that he's not annoyed.

"I feel like we haven't spoke in ages." you say to your friends, who despite all being happy to see you, look like they'd rather be anywhere else. "How's being Captain treating you, Harold?"

As you let your friend mumble on about the stresses of looking after a group of rowdy quidditch players, you can't help the feeling that something terrible was going to happen.

~∞~

An hour or so later, the four of you were wandering down an icy path back up towards the carriages that would take you to the castle, the only other people around were Katie Bell and her friend Leanne, who seemed to be immersed in an argument that you paid little attention to.

Hermione was arguing with Harry about his potions book again when the air around you went eerily still. Then you felt it, this strange feeling. It was magic, you'd recognise the feeling from anywhere, but this was different, it felt entirely too dark.

When the four of you rounded the corner of the lane, that feeling grew inexplicably. Leanne had tried to grab a brown paper package from Katie's grasp but the latter had tugged it back, causing whatever contents inside to fall to the ground. That eery feeling seemed to increase tenfold and you staggered to a holt as Katie Bell was hoisted into the air by an invisible force.

The sight was harrowing. She was six feet in the air by the time you'd raced to where Leanne was panicking. The package appeared to be an antique opal necklace, and it was omitting a deadly magical signature. It was without a doubt, cursed.

Harry went to touch it, but you rapidly grabbed his arm. "Don't. It's been cursed."

He looked at you incredulously but at that moment, poor Katie, who's hair was whipping wildly in her expressionless face, let out a gut renching, terrifying scream.

It seemed that Riddle and his friends rounded the corner at that moment; Theo and Pansy running to stand beside you, faces matching your own. Katie was still screaming when Riddle went to examine the necklace.

"It's been cursed." he mumbled to himself.

"We've already established that, Riddle." you mutter, glaring at him. He ignored you. "We can't deal with this ourselves. We need a teacher."

He seemed to agree with you as he sent Enzo and Zabini running back to the pub in search of someone, anyone. In the meantime, Katie seemed to be losing height and was getting lower to the ground, although she was still writhing uncontrollably. Mattheo, Theo and Ron managed to gently lower her body to the ground and you immediately went to check her over, until she began thrashing and screaming again, knocking away your approaching hand, sending an excruciating sensation up your forearm.

You winced, but only Riddle seemed to notice.

Enzo and Zabini came sprinting up the lane at that moment, Hagrid following hastily behind them.

"Get back!" the gamekeeper yelled, prompting you to all back away from Katie.

Leanne was a mess, sobbing as she tried to explain to Hagrid but he seemed to hear none of it as he stared down at the writhing girl for a moment. Without a word, he scooped her into his arms and began to run back up to the castle with her, carrying her piercing screams with him.

Hermione and Pansy immediately went to Leanne's aid, but you didn't move from your spot on the floor, staring at your arm, that was still burning.

Someone knelt in front of you, and expecting Theo, you looked up, startled to find Riddle, staring at you.

You looked away from him, but he cupped your chin with his fingers to bring your gaze to his.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly, a curious look on his face, and underlines of worry were there too. But you only had one concern.

"Why could I feel the dark magic in that necklace? And why did she burn me and not any of you?" you asked timidly. You appeared to be shaking, from the adrenaline or the cold, you were none the wiser.

"I'm not sure, but we'll figure it out." he assured, he looked as confused as you felt.

"How?" you snapped. "You haven't shown up for the past week, Riddle."

He sighed as if annoyed before he did something you didn't know he was caple of.

"I'm sorry, okay. You caught me off guard, and I panicked. I'm sorry, sweetheart."

"Did you just apologise to me, Mattheo?" a slow smile began to graze your face.

"Tell anyone and I'll make you regret it." he muttered, but his brown eyes carried mirth as he stared at you.

You were about to reply when you saw Ron in the corner of your eye crounching bu the antique necklace.

"Don't touch it, Ron!" you said, jumping up, bursting the bubble that you and Riddle had created. Your friend startled and moved away from the necklace.

"I've seen it before." Harry mumbled and you watched as Riddle and all his friends tensed, it was a wonder that none of the boys you were with started throwing insults towards eachother. "On display in Borgin and Burkes ages ago. The label said it was cursed, Katie must've touched it."

Theo scoffed, which seemed to remind the trio that the Slytherins were still there.

"Something to say, Nott?" Ron snapped.

"Anyone with a brain can see that it was cursed, Weasley. But you still went to touch it. Thank Salazar for Meadow." Theo rebutted and you had half the mind to stand between the two of them to stop the fight, but you felt lightheaded. You needed to sit down, or maybe sleep for a week.

You grabbed hold of the closest thing for stability: Riddle's stupidly strong arm. He startled but said nothing as he held you up, hands cradling your forearms.

What's wrong? His voice was a soft caress.

I feel like I might pass out. My arm is burning.

Did you touch the necklace?

I think I'd be halfway in the air if I did, Mattheo.

He looks concerned.

I'm taking you to Madame Promfrey. Take the necklace too.

He seems to say something to Theo, who interrupts a sobbing Leanne in favour of levitating the necklace away.

"We'll take this to Madame Pomfrey." he says and at Hermione's troubled look, he reassures her. "Meadow's with us. She'll make sure it gets there Granger."

With that, you're guided away by the Slytherin prince and all his friends, but it all feels like a fever dream.

~∞~

the change in nickname🫢

and Meadow called him Mattheo instead of Riddle🤭

gonna start a taglist too, as its been requested so comment if you want to be added xxx

taglist:

@camille-1019 @lovelyygirl8

[rare-clone-fic-exchange]

Double, Double Boil and Trouble - Part 1

It is I, @dystopicjumpsuit, with a fic written especially for my beloved longtime reader @goblininawig!

Pairing: Clone Trooper Boil x Reader (GN; reader practices tasseomancy/reads tea leaves) 

Rating: T but minors DNI as always

Wordcount: 2.2k

Warnings and tags: fluff; minor angst; Star Wars swearing; Boil is canonically a bit of a tool; Boil still has his mustache 

Summary: Boil and his friends visit a fortune-telling shop during a night out on Coruscant.

A/N: There will be at least one more chapter coming soon. Don't worry, it ends happily 🧡

Suggested listening: "Reaching for the Moon," by Ella Fitzgerald

https://open.spotify.com/track/1PSpnTbP2TnstBbSpcGWGb?si=efc74bbdd4c34465

Stak, Razor and Wooley were approaching the raucous stage of inebriation as Boil sipped his iazacal liquor and watched them in stoic silence. By his calculation, they had about thirteen minutes left before they all got eighty-sixed from 79’s. They probably would have made it, except some shiny from the 104th got a little overly familiar with the pretty Twi'lek bartender, raising Wooley's immediate ire. The ensuing confrontation got them all kicked out and banned from the club for a week.

Boil would have happily gone back to the GAR barracks and pretended to sleep, but the others were determined to make the most of their first night of shore leave, and so they ventured out into the frigid, rainy night to explore the district around the clone bar in search of further entertainment. 

They didn't have to look far; the entertainment district was packed with all varieties of businesses eager to separate tourists from their credits. Unfortunately, most of them also had signs proclaiming “NO CLONES ALLOWED” displayed prominently in their windows.

We're good enough to die for them, but not good enough for them to let us have lives, he reflected bitterly.

“Look, that one allows clones,” Stak said, pointing to a small shop illuminated by lurid neon signs.

“A fortune teller?” Boil scoffed. “Might as well just toss your credits into the underworld portal. It'll get you the same result in the end.”

“Don't be such a kriffin’ buzzkill,” Wooley said. “I want to find out if there's a tall, good-looking stranger in my future.”

“If that's how you describe a super-battle droid, I'd say the odds are good,” Boil retorted.

“Well, I’m not going to stand out in the rain,” Stak said, overruling Boil’s objections.

Thus, the troopers soon found themselves in a cramped, stuffy room that reeked of incense and was cluttered with a dizzying array of mystical and occult paraphernalia. Their damp wool uniforms smelled like wet hounds, and condensation fogged the windows, making the neon city outside look blurry and dreamlike. The four fortune tellers who greeted them were dressed in elaborate, flamboyant robes that Boil highly doubted were authentic to any culture in the galaxy, but they were very effective in giving them an otherworldly—almost fantastical—air. 

Stak opted to have his palm read; Razor was intrigued by the card reader; and Wooley opted for runes, leaving Boil alone with the remaining con artist—er, fortune teller. He sized up the civvie before him, trying not to look openly hostile as he searched for the words to politely decline whatever snake oil remained to be peddled. Before he could speak, though, the charlatan—kriff—fortune teller gave him a dazzling smile, and Boil blinked, taken completely off guard.

You weren't particularly surprised when the first three troopers quickly paired up with your partners. Their styles of fortune telling were certainly flashier and more attractive to many customers than your quieter approach. Still, none of them could boast the numbers of loyal repeat customers that flocked to you again and again. The difficulty lay in convincing them to give you a chance in the first place.

The remaining clone did not look like the type to give you a chance. He stared at you and your partners with hard, jaded eyes and a mouth set in a firm line beneath his mustache. As his fellow troopers paired off one at a time with the other mediums, he looked more and more skittish, until it was just the two of you left in the reception room. It was clearly time to break out your secret weapon.

You gave him your patented brilliant smile that walked the perfect line between welcoming and subtly flirtatious. “Welcome. Am I right in thinking that your brothers wanted to have their fortunes read, and they insisted you come with them?”

He blinked at the force of your smile, then gave you the most reluctant half-smile you’d ever seen. “That obvious?”

“I don’t need to be psychic to see that you don’t want to be here,” you replied.

He laughed shortly. “No offense, but I don’t believe in any of this.”

“No offense taken. Perhaps you'd like to join me for a cup of tea while you wait for your brothers. When they're finished, you can pretend I read your tea leaves. No charge, of course.” You gave him a cheeky grin. “I won't tell if you don't.”

Some of the tension eased out of his shoulders at your offer. “Thanks. That’d be… nice.”

You led him into your reading room and invited him to sit wherever he liked. He looked around the room curiously before settling onto the ancient velvet sofa. You began to prepare a pot of tea for the two of you to share.

“Not exactly what I was expecting,” he observed as he looked around the cozy space furnished with soft, somewhat shabby furniture and bathed in the soft light of a few old-fashioned lamps. “Where are all the crystals and tchotchkes?”

“I prefer to minimize distractions during readings,” you replied. “Though as you can see, I do try to make it as comfortable as possible for my guests.”

“‘Guests,’” he snorted. “Is that what you call them?”

You raised your eyebrows at his tone. “Yes. And while I fully accept that you are skeptical of the services we provide, I draw the line at outright rudeness. If you intend to insult me, my colleagues, or our guests, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

He flinched, realizing he’d overstepped. “Apologies.”

You accepted his begrudging apology as you finished brewing the tea and arranged a small plate of sweet pastries. You had plenty of experience with the clone troopers, and you knew they tended to have a sweet tooth. Besides, you’d smelled the unmistakable scent of iazacal wafting off of him, and you hoped that his sullen mood might improve if he sobered up a bit. Hence, tea and pastries.

He tugged his gloves off and laid them neatly on the low table, wrapping his hands around the cup of tea you passed him. It was a cold night, and his uniform was damp from the rain, so it was no surprise to feel the chill of his skin when his fingers brushed against yours as you handed him the drink. You poured a cup for yourself, then curled up with the other at the opposite end of the small sofa, tucking your feet under you and leaving a small gap between yourself and him. His eyes flickered over you briefly as you sat. At least his expression was no longer actively hostile, though you also wouldn’t exactly describe him as friendly. He sniffed the tea curiously. 

“Is this magical tea?” he asked in a faintly mocking tone.

“Certainly not,” you replied with dignity. “I never perform spellwork on someone without their consent. Besides, the magic tea is too expensive to give away for free.”

“I can’t tell if you’re joking,” he said.

You merely gave him a mysterious smile. “I didn’t catch your name earlier.” 

“Don’t you know it already?” he asked with a tiny smirk.

“Never heard that one before,” you said drily.

“You’re right. It was a low-hanging meiloorun,” he admitted. “Name’s Boil.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Boil,” you said.

“Now I know you’re lying,” he said with a self-deprecating chuckle.

“Fine, it’s an… experience to meet you,” you laughed. “What are you boys up to this fine Coruscanti evening?”

He shrugged. “Same as every shore leave. Gettin’ kriffed up. Tryin’ not to think too hard.”

You nodded. It wasn’t the first time a clone trooper had said something similar to you, and it wouldn’t be the last. “Is it working?”

He met your eyes. “Might have if those di’kuts hadn’t gotten us kicked out of the bar.”

“Music is better here.”

He frowned. “I don’t hear any music.”

“Exactly.”

He laughed, a genuine laugh for the first time since he’d walked into your shop. “You’re not wrong. What about you? Busy night?”

“Oh, you know, fleecing innocent tourists, bewitching unsuspecting troopers on shore leave, making pacts with the forces of darkness, eating more pastry than I should.”

“So an average Centaxday, then,” he said with a grin. When he smiled, his entire face transformed. His eyes lit; the lines of stress eased on his forehead; and he looked younger, less hardened.

“Maybe a few less blood sacrifices than usual,” you said with a smile.

“We’ve all had to cut back in this economy,” he replied, deadpan.

“So true. We should protest in front of the Senate building.”

“You’d certainly catch some eyes in that,” he said, gesturing toward your elaborate costume. 

“Then I must be doing it right,” you replied with a tiny smirk.

“So it’s all for show, then?” he asked, his voice neutral, but his eyes speculative.

You took a delicate sip of your tea and sighed with pleasure at the taste. “People have certain… expectations about the way someone in my line of work will look. Who am I to disappoint them?”

“So you exploit their expectations to manipulate them for profit,” he observed without heat.

“You certainly don’t pull your punches,” you said. It was far from the worst accusation you’d had flung at you by a disgruntled customer, but it still stung to learn that you sat so low in his opinion. “Do you feel like I’m swindling you with free tea and pastries?”

His gaze dropped briefly to your lips, then rose back to meet your eyes. “Nothing is free.”

“And you say I’m the cynical one,” you replied with a level stare.

“Just an observation.”

“And what else do you observe about me?” you asked.

He sat back and surveyed you slowly, raking his eyes down your body. You felt your pulse kick up at his scrutiny; you were accustomed to people eyeing you like a piece of meat—so many would-be guests didn’t seem to comprehend the difference between paying for your services and paying for your body—but rarely did you have the sense that someone truly perceived you. You sat calmly with a slight, defiant tilt to your jaw, refusing to let him know he’d rattled you.

“For starters,” he said, “the fortune teller act is just that: an act. You've gotten a little tired of it, but it pays the bills.”

“I prefer ‘medium.’”

He laughed mirthlessly. “But you don’t deny the rest.”

“Would you believe me if I did?”

He didn’t reply, but merely took a long drink of tea. “I can also tell that you're clever, charming, and very good at reading people. How am I doing so far?”

“You should have led with that,” you replied, adjusting the drape of your robes. “The flattery would have made it easier to swallow being called a fraud.”

“Like I said. Just an observation.”

You smiled faintly. “Shall I tell you what I observe about you?”

“Seems fair,” he said with a confident smirk. “I’m just an amateur, after all. Can’t wait to see the master at work.”

You leaned forward slightly and gazed deeply into his eyes. After a few seconds, he glanced away, setting his half-empty cup of tea down on the low table, then he sat back and folded his arms over his chest, staring back at you with his jaw set in a stubborn line.

“You lost someone,” you said softly.

He huffed derisively, looking away. “We’re in a war. Everybody has lost someone.”

“Not just someone,” you replied, unperturbed by his interruption. “A brother.”

His eyes jolted back to yours. “Everyone knows we clones call each other ‘brother.’ We’re bred to die. It’d be more surprising if I hadn’t lost a brother.”

He snatched up his teacup and tossed back the rest of the tepid brew, his eyes hard and angry.

“May I see your cup?” you asked.

His brows snapped together as he eyed you suspiciously, but he handed it over. You gave him a soft, reassuring smile, but he didn’t relax as you peered down into his cup to examine the leaves that clung to the delicate porcelain.

“There’s a word,” you said slowly. “It’s not Basic or Sy Bisti. It could be a name.”

Despite himself, he leaned closer, trying to see what you saw.

“Boil… does ‘Nerra’ mean anything to you?”

Boil shot to his feet, staggering backward. “How do you know that?”

His voice was hoarse and strained. You set down the cup carefully and rose from the sofa.

“How the hell do you know that?” he repeated, his voice a menacing growl as he advanced a step closer to you.

Quite suddenly, he seemed to tower over you, and your heart raced as you realized that you could be in real danger. You subtly reached for the small panic button that you kept concealed in one of your many bracelets, but before you could call for help, he whirled abruptly and stormed out of the shop into the torrential downpour of the dark Coruscant night.

You sagged with relief and closed your eyes as you leaned against the wall, breathing hard. I’m safe. He didn’t hurt me. When you opened your eyes, the first thing you saw was a pair of leather gloves sitting on the low table. You didn’t need to read the leaves in the bottom of your cup to know that he’d be back.

[fantomette22]

And here’s a bloodborne crows headcanons drawing no one ask for!

Yeah I headcanons that some characters used to have some pet crows but it’s mostly a references for my fic verse too.

So I don’t have names for all the crows but I have a couple of ideas already. If you have ideas too pls share I’m listening.

Let’s begin with Cainhurst! 🛡️

📚🦉Ok Beltran from the cut content! Not sure he’s still alive during old hunters time but basically I imagined he was the (first?) crow master of Cainhurst.

🐦‍⬛⚔️Vledemyr my oc, my fav cainhurst knight! The current crow master. (Maria & Annalise’s cousin too) He was the one in charged of them before he become captain of the royal guard, he actually have lots of them (and they all love him a lot) but his very first crow is Corvus, the crow on his shoulder.

👑🕊️Ok so Annalise was offered an Albino crow, because she’s the princess and future Queen you see. *Check notes* hm Yuki is a possible name but idk either smt Japanese or slavic who mean snow or fit with cainhurst aesthetic idk.

👑🐦‍⬛ Ah Charles (oc based on the cainhurst portrait too, king consort when Annalise was Queen). So when he marry her and was crowned he was offered a baby leucistic crow (that’s why it’s brown, it’s a loose of melanine like albinism bur not complete the the eyes aren’t red or the skin pink for exemple), he was so confused about it like you can see XD probably except a hound or smt (in his dream he would have wish for a lion but there’s no lions at Cainhurst since like 60+ years or smt)

🐦‍⬛🌕🐦‍⬛Maria have 2-3 crows (the ones at the research hall you know 😢 minus the one with the guidance rune that belong to Ludwig like you can see) As for the names I was hesitating between Hugin & Munin (Odin’s crows) or Phobos & Deimos (Mars’moon) for the 2 crows siblings (well I hc Maria study astronomy so… heheh also her third one is the one German is holding x) yeah missing a leg I know. Ok also after Maria passed away the crows escape from the research hall and freak Gehrman out! They wanted to say to him hello or called his named and because crows can mimics sound and voices they took Maria’s voice 💀 he thought he was going crazy for a few mins before he found them… but really it annoyed more Laurence XD the crows really went to harass him (they know what’s up. Or didn’t take well he put them in cages or smt, or you know because of Maria. It got to the point Laurence almost wanted them dead 💀

Fortunately Gehrman managed to made them go with the very first official hunter of hunter, he passed to him the mercy blade as well.

🐥Ah Voron my boy! Aka future bloody crow🩸🐦‍⬛ (No I am not detailing the entire backstory here! And yes his name means raven/crow I KNOW!) also the red of the cap don’t appear much sorry… thanks the scan.

✨+Svetta another Cainhurst oc based the painting with her crow, Voron mom yes. Vledemyr is his dad.

👁️I managed to put Micolash & Edgar on the page XD

💣🔥 Ah this one well when we first got into the hunter nightmare there’s a hunter before a gate right? Behind there’s a crow and I noticed the crow attacked the beasts but the hunter and the bird never attacked each other (only the hunter or beast) that’s why I now headcanons that many old hunters had crows too like this one.

🗡️🌕Ludwig & his crow with the guidance rune. One day the old hunters found many dead crows in the forest, not a good sign… Ludwig managed to recover a baby crow an care for it (he was so panicked at first he asked Maria for help so many times XD)

🐦‍⬛Eileen and some crows & the very first official hunter of hunters! (Before her)

🐦‍⬛The friendly crow of hemwick on the top left :3 I hc it’s either the crow bloody crow had or one link with Eileen or either my own hunter.

As for the other names I had in mind : Hrafn, Karasu, Branagan (I think I’m keeping this one as the name of the first crow hunter too)

🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛

Now, you’re gonna ask me why didn’t I just named one « Kuro » (black color in Japanese) well, I’m keeping it for the horses’ names of Cainhurst!!!!

[a-super-evil-cat-who-murders]

Redid the borders of the map for Ice Child, and readjusted it to match the dimensions a little better. The changes were mainly done to be more meaningful and thus better reflect the cultures, as well as to incorporate some better understanding of the art styles I'm (roughly) mimicking.

As with the previous version, the top bar, and the right side and corners are for the "Ceorlish" people, pagan tribes migrating to an island named Partania. The bottom bar, and left side are reflective of the "Partanians", an iteration of a much earlier culture on the island, heavily changed by the Tiberian Empire that ruled over them for 300 years.

More info and details below:

The top bar, showing intertwined serpents, wheels, birds, and two men engaged in a sword dance.

The top right corner, showing 4 tangled wyrms, flanked by ravens.

The right band shows the story of the Ceorlish migration to Partania. From the top: Haleþ Oshere is slain in battle against the King of the Obii, this, alongside rising sea levels forces them from their old homelands. Frigfrea, the Ceorlish goddess of plants, life, and family, is shown looking towards the island, she communicates this to the other gods and the Ceorlish. Her hair tangles with the hair of Weland, the Ceorlish god of crafts and work, who inspires the building of boats that carry the Ceorlish to their new home. This migration is symbolized with the antlered head of Dirling, the god of the wild, animals, and travel. It then depicts the discovery of Scin Igland (the shining island), where they find a gleaming hawthorn tree. The tree is flanked by ravens and robins, birds considered emblematic of Witenos and Thanor, the gods of the mind, knowledge, and magic, and the god of storms, the sky, and will, respectively. Two dogs flank the rune for Frigfrea, symbolizing their settling of the land, and the establishment of a new home. Two warriors are shown clashing, the left one is clad in Partanian and Tiberian armor, representing the Partanians, the left is in ceremonial Ceorlish armor. They, and the tangled serpent between them represent the conflict between the Partanians and the Ceorlish. The rune for Hæl, the god of death and change, flanked by two ravens, and twisting serpents representing the turmoil of the world.

A willow tree, representing Witenos, two cats, hares, and hounds, and a pair of tangled serpents all surround the rune for Eorðe, the mother goddess of the world.

The Partanian borders feature geometric interlace, with a special focus on the X shape that symbolizes the martyr, Ceset, who was crucified by the Tiberian Empire, only for his religion to replace the Imperial Pantheon a 100 years later. Triquetras and Trefoils accompany the interlace, and while they have been syncretized with the Cesetist faith, the were originally symbols of the 3 ancient gods of Partania.

_____________________________

IRL, the two styles are inspired the Anglo-Saxons for the Ceorlish, and Celtic for the Partanians. Both would roughly fit under the category of "Insular" art, also called Hiberno-Saxon (for Ireland and England, the two centers of the style). The rough difference I cut between the two is that English/Ceorlish uses animalistic imagery, human figures, and is irregular and asymmetric. Meanwhile, the Celtic/Partanian style is geometic, symmetrical, and relies on symbol.

[multistanisms]

Let Our Circle Be Unbroken;  Prologue | NCT

FANDOM: NCT

PAIRING: Jaehyun x Taeyong, Yuta x OC

WORD COUNT: 1,703

RATING: PG-13

POTENTIAL TRIGGERS: Mentions of violence, blood, pain, animal death

SUMMARY:  Surviving a near death experience comes with a lot of surprises when warlock Jeong Jaehyun finds a dragon in a place that holds tragic memories for him. Nothing is as whirlwind, though, as when Jaehyun begins to meet the little clan of misfits Taeyong has gathered over the years and a mystery is revealed.

Author Notes: Reposting this from my archived blog to update the links [cuz I do not remember how to log into my old fic blog]

Previous || Masterlist || Next

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

‘Shit. This is bad. Really bad.’ Jaehyun thought as he ran. His magic enabled him to carry an unnatural speed in his rush, but the blood seeping from his side was an impending sign of how quickly he could lose consciousness if he wasn’t careful. He could hear the hunters, however, so stopping was not a viable option. The small group was far enough out of reach to not make a direct hit on him with their weapons but still close enough to hear their hounds and shouts. Humans with little more than fear and a prejudice against those who were different. Jaehyun was no fool to think he was immune to the tragedy of the human mind; he’d lived long enough to know better. No one who was born supernatural - even humans who happened to have a supernatural ancestor and ended up gifted - could escape being the object of human failure. 

This, though, was by far the closest in centuries the warlock had felt close to death. Even his magic was waning, losing it’s precision as his vision began to blur and darken at the edges. ‘Fuck, I’m running out of time.’ The thought hit him harder than a swift punch to the stomach or an unexpected kick to the nether region, and the warlock dove into the shadows of a nearby alley, cloaking himself. A swift escape was of utmost importance if he planned on surviving the wound in his side and keeping his eyes; the thing Jaehyun knew they would take as a trophy from his death. Dark hair was caked with sweat and Jaehyun is glaringly aware that he needs to focus on escaping or he may not make it to see the sunrise. His manor isn’t safe anymore, he knows that. If they could flush him out from his café, they no doubt knew where his home was. His other properties were currently being used as safehouses, and Jaehyun was in no way going to kickstart any stress or shock to those guests. A shaky breath shook Jaehyun’s body as he closed his eyes, glamour falling. As he looked up at the sky, he opened his eyes, revealing reptilian green irises accented by rainbow slits. His glamour wasn’t a priority compared to the situation he was in. A breath taken too hard made him wince as he leaned his head back against the dark grey terracotta wall.

‘Damn it, Jaehyun, think.’ he scolds himself, hand pressing to the gunshot wound in his side. ‘Think, think, think. Somewhere. There has to be somewhere.’ 

He’s jolted back to reality viciously when the renewed sounds of baying from the dogs is suddenly much closer. Large hunting breeds, vicious when they find their intended target. Fear riddles through Jaehyun’s blood like a discarded cigar on gasoline, and there’s a sudden flash through his mind. The answer is a risk, and there are so many emotions that bubble through his heart, but escape is at his grasp and he isn’t going to squander it because of a past he’d rather forget. Hope blooms to simmer down some of the fear, and his eyes ripple to life, glamour and natural color fighting as he brings the necessary casting rune to the forefront of his mind. He knows he has one, maybe two or an even slimmer three chances at this before he completely loses consciousness from the blood and he’s killed by fangs and crossbows alike. He traces the rune over the concrete, begging for it to work. Uneven breath halts when the magic fizzles and dies, leaving a pale shape on the cement. ‘No. Damn it to hell.’ he thought, frantically scribbling the rune on the cold pavement again. ‘Not here. Not like this. Please, no.’ Every fiber of his being was focused between panic and the need to escape. The rune fizzles at the edges and Jaehyun’s heart begins dropping before the magic sticks and the rune changes shape into the round portal that offers him escape. He moved to toss himself through the hole when his relief was cut short. A loud growl and sharp pain exploded over his arm as one of the dogs located him. With a yelp, Jaehyun’s balance was lost and he fell into the space, dragging the canine with him into the brief abyss before he crashed into a table on a large porch that gave way. 

Air left him in a rush and a weak groan, the overall pain finally making it almost impossible to stay awake. The dog released his arm and went to find purchase elsewhere when something snatched it up, and Jaehyun was vaguely aware of potential danger when he heard the brief scuffle of his predator becoming prey instead. Danger. The manor in the field wasn’t safe, either, it seemed. His vision was nearly completely black at this point, all he was aware of was black and rainbow dancing before him as unconsciousness took him hostage. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dragons had long faded from the forefront of the minds of the normal humans, but it wasn’t so simple as they had died off or been killed. Most had merely learned to stay in their human forms when among the masses, clans separated into smaller numbers to keep the species safe. Lee Taeyong was the youngest of the small sect from his clan, and the first to leave to find a clan of his own. His older sister, Areum, and their parents supported the choice, knowing full well that Taeyong had never really been able to be happy among only dragons. 

“Something else calls to you, little brother. You have to follow that to find your happiness.” Areum had told him as he had prepared to leave. IT was an emotional goodbye, but somehow, Taeyong knew he was heading into great things. 

And so the young dragon had gone off, found a clan of his own, and though the ranks weren’t large, the overall species was well mixed. And sometimes the clan had their own business to attend to, which was how Taeyong had found himself wandering the world, looking for a kind of vacation home for when the clan could reunite under one roof again. He had found one and had been working on remodeling and repairing it. The walls had all come down at their own pace, and the dragon had replaced them all and brought the house back to a lovely splendor. The high, covered wrap around porch was carefully set with a few swings, tables and chairs. Various plants were hung from the edge of the covering, a few potted plants settled among the railing around the porch. What had been an abandoned mansion that felt tragic and hopeless had started changing into a loving space. There was no furniture, but that would come in time. For now, the most important part was complete. The building was ready for it’s first bout of excitement when the clan gathered, and Taeyong was happy to think of that as he sat on the porch swing near the front door with a hot cup of tea as he watched the fall leaves drift about on the wind. His dream of making the property a home was almost done. A large garden ran along the west side of the mansion, a flower garden with a large pond and gazebo just north of the back entrance of the house. Imagining the fun and laughter that would one day be had made him content and he was humming softly to himself when there was a ripple of magic that pricked at his senses and made the hair on his arms stand up, goosebumps tracing up pale skin even under the soft, warm fabric of his favorite hoodie. Said goosebumps shivered briefly into black and rainbow colored scales that faded faster than they appeared. 

Curious, Taeyong reached to set his cup on the side table next to the swing, standing to walk down the porch steps and look around, hand resting on the large picnic table settled onto a large stone garden setup he had made for au fresco dining. Face contorted in confusion, he hummed curiously, moving to turn back when the magic came back in a much stronger wave, and Taeyong shifted out of protective instinct. The strong scent of coppery blood hit his nose first, then a loud crash and growling. When the intruding creature realized there was someone else, it released its prey to charge at Taeyong, only to wind up eaten by the large dragon. Tension still in his muscles, he turned his attention to the now destroyed table. The tabletop itself was surprisingly intact, the legs, however, would need to be remade. Now, though, with the immediate threat out of the way, the dragon brought himself closer to the scent of blood to better investigate. What he found was startling for him. The male was unconscious and very hurt, and despite the wounds and ragged breathing, Taeyong could see the male was beautiful. Magic was a palpable taste in the air, telling Taeyong the young man was likely a warlock or witch. What struck the dragon as odd was the intense need to save the other. 

Shifting back into human form, he lifted the other with ease, forgetting about the blood around his mouth and on his clothes as he carried the male into the mansion and laid him on the couch. “Where did you come from, beautiful?” he asked, looking over what he could to assess the damage. Blood had dried the male’s clothing to his skin, and there was a chunk of the man’s arm from the animal biting him. It was a lot to patch up for just one dragon, so Taeyong made a choice as he wrapped the dark blanket he’d been using around the unknown male. He walked to the porch to grab his phone, dialing a number as he knelt by the couch to brush his hand through the dark hair of the hurt man. When the other side fo the line picked up, Taeyong smiled. 

“Hey there, handsome. Are you and Arashi free? I need some serious help and your girl has the best magic to do so.”

[unholyplumpprincess]

Blowing Off Steam

For my beloved @hunterofthegods as a very late Valentine’s Day gift but now an anniversary gift!

Summary: Rune pushed Hound's buttons too hard in the arena and pissed them off. Rune is desperate to show how sorry they are, going to beg to their spouse for forgiveness. But Hound has a better idea for how Rune can show and prove how sorry they are.Or! In which Hound ties Rune up and edges them for their own amusement to use them like a toy; Only for Rune to get out of their bonds and show Hound just how sorry they truly are by ruining them again and again and again.

Reblogs > Likes! If you hit like/heart, plz reblog to support future content and make your local writer boogie! Tags and comments shall be smooched furiously and read with great joy!

Ao3 Link: Here

Fandom: Apex Legends

Relationship: Bloodhound x Bloodhound / Rune x Hound / Puppy Love

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, Bloodhound headcanons, Piercings, Bondage, and more! Check the AO3 link for full list of tags jic!

Words: 6k

___________

The Bloodhounds’ love was as strong as the day they fell in love. 

Patience. Kindness. Understanding. Aaaaand a smidge of bullying was the delicious cocktail that was put into their romance. Ever since they were children, introduced by their parents who were both pairs of scientists. Working on the same project and wanting their children to interact. 

It hadn’t been love at first sight, no, but it had been close. 

Their love was slow and steady; But inevitable. Like a growing red-hot fire that was biding its time to cause a perfectly timed forest fire. No matter how wild it looked on the outside, it would always be something that was inevitable and beautiful. 

And yet, no matter how strong this romance. How much they loved each other so dearly- how ineffable and how unshakable. In the arena, all bets were off. Dying to sink their blades or teeth into their respective spouse to be a beautiful sacrifice to Odin. To appease the Allfather with their lover’s blood, sweat, and tears mixed with the beautiful scent of gun powder and smoke. 

Still. All lovers had their quarrels. Where that red hot love was turned into beautiful tempestuous rage.

~Rest under the cut~

Hound was the more level-headed of the two. They looked to analyze and figure out scenarios or people. They were not emotionally lead. As a leader- a Jarl of their village, and a lover to their spouse who was emotionally lead- this was a good trait. It led to fewer arguments, fewer quarrels, and fewer disagreements. More open, honest communication. 

But sometimes... 

Sometimes Rune knew just how to particularly push their buttons. 

Rune was the cheekier of the two. Pressing Hound’s buttons was their specialty; Kept the marriage ‘spicy’ they would say. It was minor irritants, nothing pressing. Sometimes they would flirt with somebody Hound knew wouldn’t be a good fit. Sometimes Rune would simply dote Hound with PDA in front of the other legends despite their abhorrence of it. Or sometimes Rune would say something a little too cheeky in front of the cameras in the arena when taking Hound down. 

Whatever it was, it struck buttons, but only to get a rise out of them on purpose. Some sort of end game to Rune’s teasing and poking. 

And today? Today Rune had pushed them a little too hard. 

Anger and rage were hard for Hound to express. Rune always encouraged them to express their feelings. Lovingly and sweetly reminding them that they were a person first and a leader second. That they could take the time to feel the dread, the rage, and the sadness that was within them. 

Today. Today Hound feels like expressing some form of it. 

Rune had pressed too hard in the arena. They were on opposite squads. It had come down to just them, their respective teammates downed. It left the two hellhounds to face off in what spectators were delighted to find would be a bloody battle. 

It was honorable. Rune had their hatchet drawn, whilst Hound had their hunting dagger at the ready. Passionate hand to hand combat. 

Intimacy without a bed to contain them. 

They both had been bloody, circling each other, carefully sizing one another up. Words were spat, taunting and loving words. Where Hound had crooned, “You have fought honorably, my love. However, we both surely know the victor of this battle. Spare yourself the humiliation now.” 

And Rune had crooned back, their voice mimicking Hound’s to a T in the arena, “Of course, beloved- except it is I that shall have you beneath me. As the gods shall will it.” 

It was classic to hear the two Bloodhounds bicker. A fan favorite from their respective sponsors. Not to mention the blood and gore the two would leave in their path. Bickering was an agreed thing when the cameras and audio could pick them both up. Filthy words limited to just when they could turn the comms off and spit quiet bets at each other. 

But it was Rune this time who breaks that agreement. When they croon something about having Hound beneath them in other ways. Of what they would do to that sweet cunt when Rune had bested them. 

It was a dirty trick. A strike of embarrassment coursing through Hound like a raw ocean wave down their lungs. It makes them falter, the perfect time for Rune to strike them down with a pound and a swift slam of their hatchet into Hound’s throat. 

It was a dirty trick and they both knew it. Especially in front of cameras. Drones that could hear them. Not that the live broadcast would broadcast such a thing, quickly muffling the audio. But it meant the other legends watching the raw broadcast would have heard. Would have seen-- 

Hound steels their jaw when they wake in the medic wing. On a mission to find their spouse after a much needed shower. 

-- 

Hound doesn’t have to look long, as they shared the same quarters within the compound. But it is Rune who is seeking them out first. Normally they would take great joy in the spoils of their win; But clearly, they have come to Hound with their tail tucked between their legs and apology written all over their body. 

Hound does not look to them as they punch in the code to their room. The door sliding open and walking in first with Rune right behind them, ducking into the doorway to get in- giant that they were. 

The door slides shut behind them, the silence greeting them before Rune’s whine reaches their ears. “My love. My beloved. Engillinn minn. My moon- I cannot begin to beg enough for your forgivene--” 

“You may start with begging.” Hound doesn’t miss a beat, turning to face Rune with a furrow on their brow. Rune looks like the picture-perfect puppy, apologetic eyes and a bowed head. It would be easy, Hound thinks, to humiliate them back. 

Far too easy. But it would not get the point across. 

A click of Hound’s tongue that resembles a tut stops Rune from beginning to beg. Having been fresh from the showers and in their civilian clothing, Hound pulls a hair tie from under their sleeve and from around their wrist. Beginning to pull their wild curls up and into a ponytail slowly, already catching the way Rune’s Adam’s apple bobs in anticipation. 

Too easy.  

Hound doesn’t miss the knitting of Rune’s brow nor the confusion or how they shift on their legs to adjust their thighs. Trained to the sight of Hound tying their hair up/ 

It’s not like Hound didn’t know, they very well knew what that simple motion could do. Trained and familiar with the sight of it before Hound would typically sink to their knees. Or take to batting their lashes up at Rune before letting their touch caress their cock. 

That’s just what they wanted. Rune’s curiosity and attention. Their anticipation. The swell in their pants. 

“I...I am begging you for your for...forgiveness,” Rune begins, distracted in their apology as Hound takes slow steps towards them. It’s a predator’s stalk, and Rune plays the perfect part of prey as they take steps back to mirror them. Until their back hits the wall and Hound is just a breath away, body close to touching theirs. “My behavior was unacc--” 

“Remove your pants.” Hound’s words cut them off. Their tone flat and a cock of Hound’s head as their hands drop from their now tied hair. They bite back a smirk when Rune’s lips stay parted, confusion and curiosity all over their face. Cute. 

“Am I...not...in trouble?” 

“Do not ask questions you know the answer to. Come. You shall sit and hold still. You shall not touch me, lest I wish it.” Hound speaks as they step back, making a come-hither motion to follow. Only pausing when they catch that mischievous look in Rune’s eye. “Do not make me bind you, Pup. I would hate for you to think your punishment is a reward for bad behavior.” 

“Of course. I would think nothing of the sort, my love. Only my best behavior to win your favor back.” Rune speaks, but their tone is fighting back a smile. Following behind Hound and only stopping to put their hands in the air in mock surrender when Hound whips to look at them. A look in Hound’s eyes promising a far worse punishment. 

Surely this could not be so bad, Rune wonders to themself. 

-- 

It’s bad. 

Rune has decided it is really bad. 

Hound decided that their little jest was too much a threat and bound Rune anyhow. Binding them in beautiful red ropes with their arms above their head but legs left free. The bindings continued down over their chest, curving over the plushness of their bare pecs and carefully knotted behind their back. 

The harness was for show, they knew that. This rope was perfectly strong enough to hold them. Carefully created by a wondrous trader back in their home village on Talos. 

Rune’s legs are spread open, their whole body trembling and glowing with sweat but their eyes focused downwards at their beautiful spouse. Hound always looked so good with something in their mouth, but even better with the expression they’re making. Frustrated at Rune for the situation, they are sure. For their words. 

Hound’s red tinted glasses have been discarded. Their fiery curls tied up into a ponytail and a few curls framing across their cheeks messily. Their leather jacket has equally been discarded, showing off the black lace bralette used as a top with their chest near spilling out with peeks of their areola. Something that makes Rune’s mouth salivate at the sight, tracing shapes of the peachy patches of vitiligo and beauty marks downwards. How their piercings make shapes in the lacy fabric. 

But the best sight has to be the way Hound’s eyes are narrowed, their good pupil in a dangerously thin slit. One arm rests across Rune’s hips, forcing their hips down with a flex of their impressive bicep. Their plump lips are currently pressing tempting, fluttering kisses across their cock. Flushed from balls to tip, leaking pre-cum with a beautiful golden ring wrapped tightly around the base of Rune’s shaft. 

Hound had edged them now five times. So many years of being in tune with them left them knowledgeable on when Rune was close- no matter how they tried to hide it. The subtle tenseness of their jaw, the turn of their head and their beautiful amber curls cascading down their body, and the way their lips parted juuust so. 

Rune was a filthy and sweet talker whenever they had sex. Shown at the beginning when they had tried to dirty talk and plead their way through Hound getting them close. Perhaps thinking over stimulation would be their game tonight. That Hound would let them cum on their pretty face and tits and paint them white- 

But the second Hound pulled from their cock to instead rest their cheek on Rune’s thigh and draw circles in their other thigh? Rune had let out a growl of dismay at the realization that the game tonight was edging. 

Rune's hips buck, their words going from pleading to hissing and frustrated. Only pausing when Hound sinks their nails into their thighs, their voice low with their reminder, “This is your punishment, beloved. You are my stress relief tonight and I shall use you like my toy as I see fit. You would not ruin my pleasure nor relief, would you?” 

“N-no.” Rune grunts out, their hips falling back to the bed with a tremble and tremor wracking their body. “No, my love. I am your toy.” It’s hard to say it, but at this point they’d do anything for Hound’s beautiful mouth to be back on them. Or their hands. Or be inside them. 

Anything. 

Hound isn’t ignorant to that knowledge either. But, Rune looks sincere. And their poor pup had been patient this whole night- if a bit impatient. 

Hound hums. It’s not as if they weren’t affected either. They’re wet, soaked through their own tight pants now. A sigh passes their lips, catching Rune’s attention as Hound begins to stand up. Hound knows they catch the sight of how wet they are the second Rune snarls, jerking in their bonds to try and get a better look at them. 

“Stay.” Hound’s voice is low, silky, and commanding. Satisfied when Rune settles back down with a weak jerk of their cock, pre-cum beading at the head and drooling down the pierced shaft. Poor thing. 

Hound hooks their thumbs in their tight pants, kicking off their boots and working out of their pants with a slow sway of their hips to keep Rune’s attention. When it’s revealed they have no underwear on, Rune mouths something obscene, their head tipping a bit to the sky and lips parting. Clearly scenting the air. 

Filthy dog. 

Hound removes the rest of their clothing with the same finesse. Taking to crawling up Rune’s frame slowly, resting hands on either side of their head and leaning in to kiss them. Meeting in the kiss tongue first as both of the Bloodhounds moan into each other’s mouths. 

Rune’s hips buck up into nothing, Hound’s weight resting on their abdomen instead to kiss them. Their hand cups Rune’s cheek, guiding them through the kiss as Hound licks into their mouth. Tasting them. Devouring them. 

When they part, Hound climbs up onto their broad shoulders, spreading their thighs and resting their drooling cunt right above Rune’s head. They keep their hips up, just out of reach and hearing just how Rune snarls under them. Rune tries to thrash their body to lean up and get even one small taste of their beloved, but ultimately fails. 

“Patience,” Hound murmurs for what must be the tenth time tonight. They reach down to get a fistful of Rune’s hair. Delicately using their free hand to stroke some stray hairs from their face so they wouldn’t get any in their mouth. A small touch of affection for obedience. 

They take note of Rune’s lashes fluttering, leaning into Hound’s touch as they gently stroke curls from their face. It makes Hound weak, a squeeze in their chest of adoration and sympathy stabbing into them. “Be kind to me and I shall be kind to you. You have been doing so well, my love. Surely you can be good a little longer, yes?” 

Rune grumbles under their breath, something that makes Hound smack their cheek. Not hard enough to hurt, but a firm enough pat to catch their attention to look up at them. “I believe you threatened to have me under you, Pup. Shall I instead take you the very same as you have threatened?” 

A cheeky smile makes its way to Rune’s lips, only to drop almost shyly like they shouldn’t smile. They flick their gaze up to Hound’s face as if gauging if they’re still mad from earlier on that slight. When they find no such rage, but amusement in Hound’s eyes, they allow the smile to return. “A threat to fuck me? You are losing your touch if that is meant to frighten me, my love.” 

A laugh is shared between them, Hound shushing them with a gentle push of Rune’s face playfully. There’s that silent communication between them. That there was no harm in it now, any frustrations had passed. The scene paused for just a moment. 

Just a moment to share. 

However, they are still in the middle of something. Something Hound reminds them both of as they shift atop Rune and lower their hips. Using Rune’s hair in their grasp to guide their head up towards their pussy. “Come. Show me how sorry you are. Be gentle,” The words come from Hound’s lips softly. “Just kiss for now. Worship me.” 

Rune whimpers, the sound desperate and wanting. But they obey, despite how much they know they could show Hound how truly sorry they were. They dutifully press their lips in a kiss to Hound’s pussy; Fluttering kisses starting from their mound, down over their engorged clit, getting their lips glossy with their slick. Slowly and surely moving their kisses from over their cunt to over their thighs in deep, hungry kisses. 

Hound sighs softly over the attention, massaging Rune’s scalp as they flutter kisses over Hound’s lower lips. Rune presses their luck now and again with an open-mouthed kiss, the slightest brush of their tongue against their heated flesh. Each time a tongue is felt, however, Hound pulls their hair lightly. A quiet warning. 

Rune only can truly do what they wish to when they begin to beg. Mumbled words of ‘please’ against Hound’s wet flesh, rumbling through their chest the more desperate they get. Especially when Hound reaches underneath their own body, slipping two fingers into their body with a gasp, then offering those fingers to Rune to lap at like a starved dog. 

It earns more whimpering from Rune, whose hips are now thrusting up into the air for something desperate to grind against. They mumble pretty pleases, quiet mumbles that they shall be good, how they’ll be such a good pup. 

How they’ll take such good care of Hound as an apology- as a thank you. 

“Have you learned your lesson?” Hound speaks softly, still keeping juuuust out of reach with a lift of their hips. They keep a good grip of Rune’s hair, forcing the taller of the two to strain in want, panting with parted lips and taking in Hound’s scent. They try their best to nod, but Hound’s grip keeps them from doing so. “Your words, little one.” 

“Yes. Yes, by the gods, Hound, yes. I will be good; I will be so good. Let me worship you, allow me to take care of you. Release me. Let me ravish you- allow me to have you- Please, please, please-” Rune’s voice is lower, lower than usual. Their natural baritone forming this lower gravel pitched whine of desperation. Their lashes brush their cheekbones with each flutter, threatening to gather tears when they look up at their spouse. 

Once more Hound’s heart squeezes and they are a helpless victim to the look that their lover gives them combined with their sweet words. But Hound knows them better. Rune is manipulative in scenarios like this, promising sweet nothings only to be freed of their grasp and ruining Hound into next week. Smothering Hound in bruises, bitemarks, and making their voice hoarse. 

So, Hound hums, thoughtful and low. They cock their head akin to a dog sizing up their prey, looking Rune over. Their flush across golden flesh, how sweat makes them glow in the dim lighting of the sun peering through the window, and just how sweet their seeing ruby red eye looks up at Hound. 

“No.” Hound says simply, watching Rune practically roar as they strain against their bonds. Their hips thrust up, trying to buck Hound off and thrash their shoulders to try and move them. To no avail; Hound was always good with rope work. Hound lets a smile flirt across their lips. “Settle yourself, Pup. I merely shall not be releasing you. I can give you what you desire, but you shall remain tied. For now.” 

The quiet promise of release on good behavior at least stops the minor tantrum. Rune huffs and chuffs much like a big cat, settling back down and looking up at Hound hopefully. Hound gives them what they want in a controlled manner, carefully adjusting their position to lower themself down to Rune’s mouth. 

Rune’s hands twitch in their bonds, clearly wanting to hold Hound’s thighs. Hound gingerly reaches up with their free hand, lacing their fingers together and squeezing to help ease their need to grab. Feeling Rune’s wedding ring press against their flesh. 

It makes Hound’s heart throb. 

Rune is a hunter of their word. They bury their face against Hound with a longing moan, their forked tongue making quick work of them. They slide their tongue from Hound’s hole up to their fat clit, sealing their soft lips around it and giving it sloppy, suckling kisses. Rune’s moans are starved, matching how Hound sighs shakily above them.  

But they both know how Hound gets. 

Those soft sighs soon turn to moans, which become whining moans filled with whimpers. Louder and louder as they grip Rune’s hair tight in one hand, their other squeezing Rune’s hand which squeezes theirs back to ground them.  

It doesn’t take long for Hound’s hips to start moving, humping Rune’s face and across their tongue. Stilling their hips to tremble shakily atop them when Rune’s lips seal around their whole cunt to sloppily lick at them. Rune’s tongue dips briefly inside of them, licking sharply upwards to their poor clit that they once again abuse. 

Rune tends to their cunt like they were worshiping them. Each open mouthed kiss on their cunt purposeful to lick at them and moan shamelessly into them. Sometimes dipping their head low enough to let their nose run across their clit so they could taste them in full. They hum contentedly, softly as if to replicate a purr just as their tongue slowly slides back up from their hole to their clit. 

The vibrations seal the deal with one more talented flick of Rune’s tongue that traps their clit briefly in the fork of their tongue. Hound cums with a sharp, snapping snarl and their head throwing back with a perfect arch of their back. Their grip holds Rune’s head in place as they cum, plentiful slick being licked up with Hound’s squirt as their body trembles and shakes. 

“Divine,” Rune moans against their cunt, muffled as they nuzzle their way sloppily against Hound. “Always so delicious, ástin mín. I cannot get enough of you.” Rune sighs, their tongue once more trying to lick its way into Hound to make a sloppy mess of them. 

Over sensitive from cumming, Hound’s hips jump, but they aren’t sure where to go. At first, they jerk away from Rune’s tongue and kisses, only to press down to try and be flush to meet their touch. A whimper leaves Hound, their legs twitching against Rune’s chest and toes curling. But they finally decide to pull up and away, looking down at the mess they’ve made of their spouse as Hound takes heavy, panting breaths. 

Rune’s face is flushed, slick smeared over their lips and nose. Their pupil is blown wide, near eclipsing the red of their iris as they look up at Hound. Their lips are parted, flushed and wanting. They looked beautiful. 

Too tempting... 

Hound sighs shakily as they climb down Rune’s body to straddle their waist. They reach up, leaning their torso over Rune’s face and being in reach for them to lean up and nip at their hanging breasts. Hound jumps a bit, huffing with a small laugh as Rune finally manages to latch onto a pierced nipple with a longing moan. 

“A-ah- my love, j-just a moment-” Hound’s voice shakes, trying to untie Rune’s wrists and separate the rope that went to the harness tied across their chest. Their hips jump, humping over Rune’s abdomen when Rune merely pops off one breast and moves to the next one hungrily. 

“Rune-” It’s hard to sound stern when they’re caught in a moan. However, with great effort, Hound does manage to untie them. Throwing the extra rope off the side of the bed later and not having time to check Rune’s wrists before arms wind around their body and force them to hold still so their chest can be ravaged. 

Hound grabs the headboard of the bed for balance, arching their back with a whine as Rune’s teeth worry one of their nipples. They don’t bite, merely scraping their teeth before suckling and popping off to make Hound gasp. 

Hound hardly has time to breathe before one of Rune’s arms moves from around them and slides down Hound’s body. They slip two large fingers easily inside Hound’s cunt with a hiss from both of them. 

It helps that Rune is mumbling ‘Thank you’s to them between bites of their breasts. Pounding their fingers into Hound and quirking them forward just right, curling them to make their beloved practically howl with pleasure. 

Hound’s body trembles above them, their body flushed head to toe. It feels as if they can’t breathe. Suddenly overwhelmed with pleasure as Rune’s thumb swipes across their clit with every thrust of their fingers inside. It takes no time at all for Hound to cum again, squeezing around their thick fingers and throwing their head back with a cry. 

Rune moans into their breast, lapping sloppily at their nipple without thought as their fingers stay inside them. Only moving their first knuckles in curling motions to make Hound squirm and whimper beautifully above them. 

“Rune-” Hound starts to whimper out their name, but Rune takes the hint. They come off their breast, sliding their fingers out of them and moaning in want as Hound begins to move. 

They move together without need for verbal communication. Where Rune moves on the bed to lie down and sliding their hands desperately over Hound’s flesh. Hound moves to straddle their hips, reaching back and behind them to grab Rune’s weeping cock and guiding it to their cunt with hurry. 

Rune is...very well endowed, but as they have discovered through the years, Hound didn't want too much prep for them. They liked the bite of the stretch, shown as they begin to sink down now and Rune’s hands fly to their breasts to massage and swipe their thumbs over their nipples. 

Hound’s breath hitches, their brows knitting and their hands pressing to Rune’s pecs in turn to thumb over their nipples. Always trying to one up the other. 

Rune’s moan is wanton and needy, sounding like they were just seconds from dying when Hound slowly takes them inch by inch. Rune’s mouth starts up again, their voice low and growling with each word. “So tight- so wet. You always feel so good, tunglið mitt. W-what I wouldn’t give to stay inside of you for eternity. The gods have made you to take this cock, just like this. What a sight you are for me.” 

It works just as well. Hound’s face flushes, showing more brightly on the peachy spots of their vitiligo. They turn their head to hide their blush, their body shaking and trembling as they work their way slowly down onto Rune’s cock. 

But after so many years of marriage, Rune knows just what they want. 

What they need. 

It’s why they suddenly grab Hound’s hips, holding them with a bruising grip as they force them downwards just as Rune’s hips come up to slam into them. There’s a cry from both of them, with Hound’s being startled and full of pleasure, while Rune’s is more guttural and needy. 

It burns in the best way, the stretch makes Hound’s hips jerk and twitch, their hands finding their way up to grip Rune’s shoulders with nails biting into flesh. Hound’s facial expression twists, their eyebrows knitting and teeth sunken into their bottom lip with tremors wracking their frame. 

It hits Rune what’s happened when they feel the rapid fluttering around their cock and more wetness clinging to their flesh.  

A smug look goes across Rune’s features as Hound rides the waves of their sudden orgasm. A low laugh leaving Rune as they roll their hips, feeling Hound’s nails bite deeper into their shoulders at the sudden movement. 

By the gods- there is a reason Hound tied up their spouse. 

“Look at you,” Rune breathes out in a croon, sliding their hands down over Hound’s curves and over the swell of their hips where bruises are beginning to form. “Beautiful, my love, just beautiful. What a little whore you are. Cumming just from taking me fully. I truly am blessed to see you this way.” 

“M-mind your tongue-” Hound tries to bite back, but their voice is breathless and keening; Lacking any hint of malice or venom. Tears prick at the corners of their eyes from the intensity, their heart still pounding in their chest as they try to gain the reins back in the situation. 

But Rune has been bound for too long. 

Rune moves, holding Hound close to them as they move their bodies as one. Never once leaving their body as they shift Hound to lying down beneath them. It takes some urging, but eventually Hound follows their motions to roll onto their side and hitch a leg over Rune’s shoulder. 

It gives Rune the vantage to lean down onto Hound, bending them in half and showing off their flexibility. A sight that makes Rune beam, showing off sharp teeth before delicately pressing a kiss to Hound’s ankle adoringly. 

“There you are, beloved.” Rune sighs out, rolling their hips slowly into Hound and causing their frame to shudder. “Like this. Let me take care of you. I shall show you how very apologetic I am.” 

“By breaking me?” Hound teases, peeking up coyly at Rune from their thick lashes and through messed up curls, catching the way their spouse grins lazily down at them. A furrow to Rune’s brow in contained pleasure. 

“Would you like an apology any other way?” Rune teases back, leaning further down to capture a kiss on Hound’s cheek after they brush their crimson curls from their face. A loving gesture that makes the smaller of the two smile softly to themself, turning their head to properly catch Rune’s lips in a kiss. 

“If you would like to break me,” Hound murmurs on Rune’s lips, swiping a tongue over their lips with the tip of their tongue in a quick fashion. From bottom lip to upper just to feel Rune’s breath catch. “Then do it how I like it, Pup.” 

“Fuck, Hound.” Rune growls, their voice hoarse as their cock throbs inside their spouse. Rune moves their bodies quickly, tossing both Hound’s legs over their shoulders now and pressing downwards to get into a proper position. 

Now in a proper mating press and feeling fully engulfed by the sheer size of Rune, Hound’s head throws back in preparation. Already feeling how Rune leans down into them, their long, long hair curtaining them both as Rune’s teeth sink into the crook of Hound’s exposed throat. 

They moan together, Hound’s voice louder into the open, sticky air. Rune moves fluidly with them, their hips moving in a practiced way to constantly stay inside Hound. Years of practice making them both acutely aware of how the other liked it. 

It’s why Hound’s fingers leave the sheets to instead wind around Rune’s neck, sliding one hand into their longer hair to pull on it hard enough to make Rune keen. Their other hand falls to Rune’s back, feeling the muscles and scars under their fingertips as their nails dig in and leave stripes across their flesh. 

Rune is never loud, but their words always fill that area for them. They murmur into Hound’s neck, growling in between words. “Gonna breed you. I shall fuck you raw, my love. How sorry I am- let me show you. All night. How very sorry that I am. Let me make you cum again and again and again--” 

Hound lets out a whimper against their will, their hips tilting up as best as they can in this position. They pull on Rune’s hair just to hear them groan, feeling how Rune’s hips still against them and pump in shallow thrusts just to make sure they grind against Hound’s clit. 

What a cheater. 

It works, the quiet battle falling in Rune’s favor as Hound’s over sensitive body cums first with a howl from their lips and a furrow of their brow. Rune isn’t far behind them, a snarl ripping from their lips as they press their hips as close as they can get. They cum inside of Hound, pumping them full with excess already slipping out and down onto their ass, down onto the bed. 

The rest of the night is filled the very same with Rune fucking Hound in any and every position they can think of. On all fours, against the wall; In between each round Rune likes to clean Hound up with their tongue, fingers pushing their cum back inside Hound numerous times. Fucking them sloppy with their fingers and then their cock. Then using the very same as lubricant to fuck their ass. 

The whole time Rune tells them how sorry they are, how much they love them. They fuck Hound until their mind is empty, no longer remembering why they were even mad in the first place. 

How could they be mad, after all, when Rune was showing just how sorry they were each time? 

By the Allfather, Rune was relentless. Even during clean up time in the shower, they nursed Hound’s pussy with their tongue. Kissing, licking, dragging their tongue across their flushed flesh and making Hound shiver and shake, clinging to Rune’s hair desperately with shaking legs. 

Even when ice had been applied to help Hound get feeling back in their clit and reduce swelling, somehow that wound up with even more touching from Rune. Ending the night with a nursing session where Hound is straddling their thighs and Rune is bent to worship their breasts. Leaving Hound’s cunt drooling with slick in their pajama pants that are quickly slipped off so Rune can rub and jerk their clit off with each swipe of their tongue over a nipple. 

It’s the most solid sleep Hound gets in months, that’s without a doubt. 

In the morning, when Hound awakens, it is to Rune gently brushing their hair back and kissing their forehead. Murmurs are exchanged, with Hound reaching up silently and Rune taking the welcome embrace. 

“I’ve made you breakfast,” Rune murmurs softly after a few moments of peace, nosing their way against the top of Hound’s head and inhaling their scent. Their next words are playful, spoken with a smile growing on their lips. “Can you walk? Do I need to carry you?” 

Hound huffs this exasperated sound. A bite back on their tongue about how Rune could have fucked them harder. But as soon as they go to stand, they soon eat their words they’d said in their mind, stumbling and almost falling to their knees. Thankfully, Rune catches them by the waist, tugging them back onto their lap and grinning against Hound’s neck. 

“Do not be stubborn, Hound. I am happy to help.” Rune finishes with a kiss to Hound’s lobe, hearing the smaller of the two’s groan as they move to wind their legs around Rune’s waist. Looping their arms around Rune’s neck as huge hands cup under their ass to carry them down to the feast they had prepped for their mate. 

All of Hound’s favorites; Even if everything Rune made was their favorite. They thank their beloved with a kiss at the corner of their mouth, murmuring on how everything smelled delicious and how thankful they were to have them. 

Rune’s shy smile and the duck of their head is enough to warm Hound’s heart. But the nuzzle they brush across Hound’s nose seals the deal with the silent kiss. 

No. They could never stay mad at them for long. 

Their love was just as strong as the day they had fallen in love, after all.

[hunterofthegods]

A thing for some lovesick Dogs. All things on the left are Pup’s and the right is Hound’s! 

Hound belongs to @plumppeachprincess

both are they/them!!

[allegra-writes]

“The Devil all the time”

Hunter!Tom x Demon!Reader

Supernatural AU

NSFW

Warnings: Smut

"Break the silence, damn the dark

Damn the light..."

The Chain - Fleetwood Mac

Forget everything you thought you knew, you had every reason to be afraid of the dark when you were a kid. In this world where monsters are real, the Holland brothers hunt them so normal people can continue to live in the bliss of ignorance.

But when something goes terribly wrong, Tom will do anything to save his brother's life, including selling his soul to the devil. Well... Not exactly the devil, but close enough.

You don't need to watch Supernatural to read this AU

MY MASTERLIST

He knew it was you, even before turning. He knew it as soon as he heard your deceptively delicate footsteps break the supernatural silence that had fallen over the forest the moment he had buried the little metal box in the old crossroad. Tom didn't want to think about what it meant, having such an intimate knowledge of you to be able to recognize you by the cadence of your steps, being so in sync with you that he could tell whenever you were in the vicinity. 

So he used his favorite deflection technique whenever it came to you.

"Y/n? What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this? Sorry, did I say nice girl? I meant evil skank"

The insult didn't phase you. None ever did. It was hard to take them seriously when you knew how many nights he fell asleep with your name on his lips, after pathetically releasing himself into his own hand, or fucking his boring girl-next-door girlfriend, chasing orgasm over unsatisfactory orgasm that would never completely satiate him. Because it wasn't your face the one contorted in pleasure looking up at him from the mattress.

"You called. I came" You batted your lashes, sweetly. "I always come when you call…" 

He gulped, the innuendo not lost to his ears. It threw him off guard, like it always did. 

"I would have thought this would be… beneath you" Tom cleared his throat, looking away, trying to regain his footing, "collecting a deal, like a vulgar crossroad demon"

There was nothing vulgar about the soul of a Holland. But he didn't need to know that, so you just shrugged,

"Queen Rowena has an interest in you boys. She finds you entertaining. I'm just being a good subdit" 

He scoffed,

"Funny. I would have never peg you for a sub"

You took a step closer to him.

"You don't have what it takes to make me submit, Holland" Your hot breath fanned over his skin, setting his skin on fire. Making his blood boil. You had a way of doing that, of bringing out the worst in him. Of making him lose control. And you thoroughly enjoyed it, poking at the bear until the claws came out, laughing at the carnage.

Another step, and you could physically feel it: The hate, radiating from his every pore, his mind screaming with it. He hated you. He hated your kind. He hated your beauty. He hated the pretty white dress you were wearing, so pure and innocent, glowing like a beacon in the dark. A lure, guiding uncountable men before him into perdition. 

But above all else, he hated that, even then, he couldn't help but to want you. Fervently. Desperately. Irreversibly. 

"I came here to make a deal" He croaked, cursing himself internally for showing weakness. 

"Let's negotiate, then," you replied, stepping away, mercifully letting him breath. 

"My brother-"

"I know" You interrupted, sounding bored already, "Reapers everywhere are going berserk. Who, oh who, will get to reap the soul of a Holland?" 

The wind picked up, making your long dress billow around your legs. You twirled a little, admiring the way it moved. Tom's eyes were glued to you, almost hypnotized. Partly because you were too dangerous to be left unsupervised even for a second, partly because you looked beautiful like that. It had never been more obvious to him that you were an unearthly creature, you didn't belong to this world. There, surrounded by greenery, barefoot, swaying softly under the twilight light, he wondered how could anybody ever mistake you for a human.

"Of course" your apathetic voice took him out of his revery, "being reapers, watching them go wild is rather boring. I swear they are the most uninteresting beings of all creation" 

That made him see red.

"Boring? Boring?!" He knew his voice was rising with every word but he just couldn't help it, "They're waiting for my little brother to die!!"

"Which could happen any minute now," You reminded him, all playfulness gone from your demeanor, "so if you wanna strike a deal, I suggest you start making me an offer worth my time"  

He was taken aback by that.

"I- My soul in exchange of a wish, and you collect it in ten years" He tried and failed not to think about what that implied: vicious, invisible hounds of hell tearing apart his body and dragging his soul to hell, "Isn't that the usual deal?"

You scoffed,

"After all the things you did in your life, what makes you think your soul doesn't belong in hell already? And if your brother dies, that is one less Holland on earth to worry about. You and your brothers have managed to become a big pain in the ass for us…"

He pulled out a knife, a strange one, with runes in the blade. You arched a brow in recognition

"The Winchesters' knife. Are you threatening me, little hunter?" 

Your lack of reaction was another blow. He had hoped you'd be more impressed than that. Nonetheless he turned it in his hands, offering you the handle.

"I'm throwing it into the deal" 

To his surprise, you didn't immediately take it from his hands, choosing instead to pace the clearing, deep in thought. 

The truth was you couldn't care less about the knife, it wasn't more dangerous to you than a toothpick. And while it was true it could certainly damage your queen, she had a far better weapon to protect herself: You.

But it did confirm your suspicions about the Hollands having access to the old Winchester arsenal, which meant they had access to something way more dangerous than that rustic weapon made of steel and bone. A book, made of ancient dark magic and human skin, written in blood. A book that was precious to queen Rowena and by extension to you: the Book of the Damned. 

The Hollands were a family of extremely talented, yes, but old fashioned hunters. The stab first, ask questions later kind. They probably had no idea what they had in their hands… but you did. 

"Very well then," you finally declared, "this is my offer: Your soul and that knife in exchange for sweet Harry's life and one year for you to get all your businesses in order" 

Tom felt all the blood drain from his face. One year. Just 365 more days to live, before an eternity of torture in hell. 

"O-one year?" He breathed.

"One year" You confirmed, "More than enough time to go see the Grand Canyon, eat the world's spiciest burger or whatever you have on your bucket list" 

The disdain in your words only made him hate you harder.

"Not nearly enough to live" He replied through clenched teeth. You rolled your eyes, 

"You're a hunter. You lead short, violent existences, charging head first towards what most humans run away from. Things faster, stronger, more powerful than you, surviving each encounter out of sheer luck. Killing one monster after another, until that luck runs out. Because the monsters? Unlike you who rely on it everyday, they just need. One. Single. Lucky. Strike." You punctuated every word with one step in his direction, until you were face to face again. Until, for the first time ever, you could see the fear, the desperating hopelessness he kept hidden inside, reflected on the warm coffee of his eyes. You knew a lesser man would be already crying and begging for Mercy.

Tom wasn't like other men though, that was the whole point. 

"Or…" You soften your tone and your stance, letting your fingers ghost over the back of his hand, his whole skin erupting in goosebumps. That was the very first time you touched him. Ever. 

And it was as if nobody had ever touched him before, the light caress enough to set every nerve ending, every single one of his cells, alight.

He was so distracted by the sensation and his body's response to it, he almost didn't hear your next words over the sound of his own pounding heart. 

"Or you could keep your little pocket knife, and even have your ten years if…"

"If?" He struggled to focus.

"You let me borrow a book"

His brows furrowed in confusion,

"A book? What book?"

"Any book of my liking, for as long as I want" You shrugged it off, "Do we have a deal?"

There was a catch there, it was obvious. He knew he was going to regret it but, what choice did he have? 

"Deal"

Your smile was blinding, luminous. If he didn't know any better, he would have called it angelical. Now, that was one ridiculous thought.

"What now? We seal it with a kiss?" His eyes fell to your lips, so soft looking and inviting. He wasn't eager to put his mouth on a filthy demon and doom himself. He wasn't. 

You chuckled, but there was no humor behind it.

"Oh no, darling. This is big. This is special" You're special, "A simple kiss just won't cut it…"

No. You couldn't mean… could you? Was there no limits to your hatred for him? Did you really want him so defeated, so humiliated? 

"What do you want?" He spat through gritted teeth.

"The same thing you want" You put your hands on his chest, rising to your tiptoes to whisper in his ear, "The same thing you have wanted ever since we first met . The thing that's obsessing you..."

"I don't know what you're talking about"

You smirked,

"You can lie to your family, you can even lie to yourself, little hunter... But you can't lie to me." 

He couldn't hide, you could see every fantasy, hear every single one of his thoughts of you on repeat, like a prayer in your direction. Just like he couldn't hide the way his skin was burning now for you, the way his blood rushed south, the way all logical thought left his brain, his iron grip on his emotions finally breaking as he snapped. 

Lightning fast, in just a blink, he twirled you around, your back hitting the rough bark of a tree, as he towered over you, demon blade to your throat, every inch of his body pressed against yours. His eyes were ablazed with rage, and passion, as he surged forward, striking you with his best hit.

He kissed you. 

Lips vicious against yours, teeth biting and scraping only to soothe the offense seconds later with his tongue, until he was dizzy, light headed with the lack of oxygen and the taste of you. The hand not holding the knife to your neck fell to your breast, squeezing the pliant flesh with enough force to cause pain on a human woman, merely making you moan. He swallowed the sound, letting his fingers trace your waist, your hips, clawing at your dress until he finally, finally, felt skin under his fingertips. 

It was better than anything his mind had conjured in his feverish fantasies in the dead of the night. The skin of your inner thighs velvety soft, as they parted under his touch, the sweetest sounds leaving your lips as his fingers found your naked core. You weren't wearing any underwear, probably never had. The realization that, in all your past encounters and fights you had been standing there, just feet away from him with nothing under that damn dress hit him like a truck, making his head swim. 

He searched between your folds, and suddenly his fingers were inside you. He was inside you, a part of him was buried deep within you, within your silky heat, claiming you as his, if only for the night. 

And you were so wet for him, and only getting wetter as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, scissoring them, opening you up until he was able to slip a third one in, fucking you with his hand in earnest. You were sobbing, clutching at his biceps, head thrown back in pleasure. He took advantage of that to suck bruises on your neck, only to see them fade before his eyes. Your skin tasted clean, smelled like wild flowers and rain. Ozone. Lightning. Like those coursing through his veins with every cry, every delicious gasp you made. 

He found the perfect spot inside you, the one that sent sparks through your nerves with every stroke of his calloused fingers. 

"This what you wanted?" To make him lose it? Lose his mind, himself, in you? "For me to make you come on just my fingers, like the little slut you are?"

The floor disappeared from under his feet as you sent him flying away from you, a searing pain exploding at the back of his head as he landed, sprawled at the feet of an old, dying oak. With blurry eyes, he saw you stalk towards him, all power and cold, controlled fury. 

"Let's get one thing straight, Holland. I'm not one of your sluts" You sneered, "and I'm definitely not your basic bitch of a girlfriend. So you better start showing me a little respect, are we clear?"

He gulped, sitting up. He had to be seriously fucked up in the head, for his cock to be twitching inside his pants at your threatening tone.

"Crystal" 

"Good" You declared, coming to a stop right in front of him, standing between his parted legs, "Now, let's put that mouth of yours to a better use"

He knew that image was going to be forever tattooed on his brain: You standing in front of him, holding the skirt of your dress up, waiting for him to put his mouth on you. Tom took a moment to admire you, before delving in, flattening his tongue over your slit, before drawing tight, precise circles on your clit with the tip. God, you tasted so divine it was messing with his head; something as dark and corrupted and twisted as you, feeling so exquisite, so perfect, so heavenly to his every sense. 

He helped you hook your knee over his shoulder, his other arm snaking around your leg, pulling you even closer. You could feel his smirk against your cunt the moment he realized your legs were shaking, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care, not with his wicked talented mouth devouring you like a last meal, rocking your whole world, making you see stars behind your closed eyelids.

You always knew that man would make the stars fall. 

Tom kept on, penetrating you with his tongue as far as it would go, his whole face moving against you. The slight burn of his scruff felt delicious against your delicate labia, as he used his fingers to open you up like a flower, separating your petals to get to the delectable nectar inside. You were close, he could feel it, the obscene sounds you were making, the waves of sweetness falling on his lips feeding his ego, filling him up with pride. By the time the night was over, you'd be unable to forget him. He would make sure of that. He would make you come, over and over, until the only thoughts left in your brain were of him, the only word your lips knew how to speak was his name. He would mark you, like a bloodstain, like you had done to him. 

Almost there, he almost had you. Your muscles were locking, your walls starting to tremble, when a loud crack resonated over his head, and you stepped away on unstable legs, breathing hard. You didn't even need to breathe, it was just his effect on you. He made you feel human. And it was both exhilarating, and terrifying. 

You took another step back, but he took hold of your ankle, tugging hard enough to make you fall on his lap, white skirt covering the place where his hands were fumbling with his zip, with his boxers, aligning himself with your entrance.

"Fuck!" He cursed, as you sank on his rock hard cock, not giving him any time to get used to the feeling of you around him, before starting to move. 

"How does it feel" You taunted, "fucking a monster? Is it as good as you dreamed of?"

Better. You felt even better. Tom hadn't thought it was possible, but he loathed you even more for it. 

"Shut up" He growled. 

You leaned forwards, breath hot against his ear,

"Cause you feel amazing, Tom. Your cock feels like heaven" 

His hand tangled in your hair, keeping you in place as he crashed his mouth to yours again, the other fumbling for the buttons at the back of your dress, tugging and pulling, tearing at the fabric, in his haste to feel more. More of your skin against his, more of the body that had been his hyper fixation for far too long. 

You sat up, still grinding on his cock, letting the tattered dress fall to your waist, watching in satisfaction as his eyes went wide, zeroing on the way your breasts bounced in sync with your hips. 

Reaching up, for a glorious second Tom could feel one perfect pebbled nipple against his palm, the roundness, the weight of your soft flesh on his fingers; before an invisible force pinned his hands to his sides. 

You tsked.

"Still don't get it, do you little hunter? This?" You let yourself fall all the way down his thick cock, hard, tearing twin moans from his mouth and yours, "This isn't about you. This is about me." 

Leaning back, you braced yourself on his strong thighs, changing the angle, changing your movements to a slower rocking against his pelvis. The friction against your clit was perfect, the feeling of his big, throbbing dick so deep inside you, stretching you like no one before, sending electrical pulses through your spine. It was decadent. It was ecstasy.

It was torture. Underneath you, Tom was sobbing, eyes bright with unshed tears, fighting in vain against his bonds. He needed it faster, harder, anything to help tilt him over the edge you were keeping him on, your sweet cunt too tight, too good around him to allow his cock to soften, your rhythm too leisured to let the tensed, strained coil inside him to snap. You were uncaring, using him remorselessly to get yourself off, your little moans getting higher in pitch the closer you came to your climax. Tom felt himself getting higher just by looking at your beautiful pleasure ridden face. You cried out, and suddenly it was happening, you were coming, pulsating around his cock, falling apart on top of him.

And the ground beneath him quaked. The sky above his head bled, the blue twilight torn open by lightning, and thunder, despite the fact that there wasn't a single cloud marring its diaphaneity. You fell forwards, hand braced on the tree, next to his face, ridding the aftershocks of your orgasm until the end. 

"No!" Tom cried when, after a few seconds of catching your breath, you dismounted him, letting his dick slip out of you. 

You arched a brow,

"Something you want, Tommy?" 

He locked his mouth shut, gritting his teeth. You smiled, amused, knuckles stroking his still iron hard cock.

"Do you need more, little hunter?" You enveloped him in your hand, moving it up and down his member, watching the head disappear under his foreskin, "Do you need to come?"

He banged the back of his head against the bark.

"Yes!" He finally admitted, "So badly…"

"Then beg" You commanded, stilling your hand. He snapped open the eyes he hadn't realized he had closed. Oh, if looks could kill…

"Never" He hissed, livid.

"Very well, then" You picked up your pace, pumping him fast, your grip almost too rough. He gasped for air, feeling the telltale tightening of his balls, the coil inside just about to break under the tension. But you must have felt it too, cause your hand let go of him altogether. Too late, he understood what you were doing.

One beat. And then another, and he was coming all over his t-shirt, orgasm completely ruined. 

He cursed, tears escaping through the corner of his eyes, fingers digging into the moist ground under his hands. You chuckled, cruelly, standing up and stepping out of your shredded dress. He could have ganked you with the demon blade in that moment, he really could have, except his hands were still pinned by an invisible force at his sides. 

"Let me go, you bitch," Tom growled, tossing, fighting against his restraints to no avail, "aren't you done?!"

"Not quite." You smiled, mockingly sweet, "Just one more thing before I leave. Don't worry, it will only hurt for a minute…"

He renewed his efforts to escape, as you bended over, reaching for his chest, white hot pain burning through his ribs. He almost cried out, but what he saw stole the voice from his throat, turned his blood into ice inside his veins, leaving him shaking, jaw slack and mouth open in a soundless scream: 

You, naked and gorgeous and terrible. Transfixed, eyes glowing with a supernatural indigo light, the shadow of two massive, bended, broken wings projected on the trees behind you.

Not a demon, he thought. You're not a demon.

You smiled, and it was terrifying.

"No. I'm the thing demons have nightmares about" You replied out loud to the words he had only said in his mind, "And now, little hunter, you belong to me. Mind, body and soul"

[atypicalacademic]

Of Her Kind

Dragon Age

Words: 570

Rahvi Brosca x Gaadha Mahariel x Leliana (like, in the background)

Warnings: references to alcohol, violence, physical abuse, starvation.

*

The rusted gates swung with a glower of the guards’ eyes- averted now, begrudgingly, when Rahvi threw an answering glance over her shoulder. Cracked-tile gave way to raw rock, and the jagged craters lining the sides of the streets like her scars lined Ravhi’s skin. A young woman, face done-up and hair braided, scurried out of one of the moss-eaten ruins, her faux-silk skirts pitched up just as Rica had once held hers in the vain hope it wouldn’t trail the dust.

She nearly dropped them when she froze, catching Rahvi’s gaze, calculating the weight of her coin-purse and the strength of her armor, the familiar grey eye that stared back at her, opening and closing her mouth with a muted nod of part-apology, part-recognition, before she hurried away.

The rest were hiding, she knew, hiding as they did when the Commons were a-stir, when the nobles’ frustration spilled from the Quarter to the streets and they took to Dust Town for a punching-bag alive enough to wail, sick enough to die without fighting back.

She’d almost forgotten what hunger smelt like.

She shifted the weight of the eyes on her back, dragging her feet with enough noise so they knew they could show if they wanted, hide if they needed. Fresh blood-splatters marred the writing on the dilapidated walls, the same cry for uprising she’d ignored ‘til it boiled inside of her at the Proving that began and ended everything.

For it had a smell- empty bile and fevered flesh, lichen hacked up from stomachs too burnt to hold it, a cloud of warmth as quietly familiar as her mother’s hot tears and her liquor-soaked breath, sooty fingers pressing black trails down Rahvi’s bruised cheek as she rubbed, and rubbed, and-

It was her mother’s scent, and her own behind her armor, her sister’s beneath her silk, Leske’s behind his quicksilver smile, deeper than blood and sweat and tears and time.

(And Ancestors, she’d known, as she’d tried to drown it in ale and blood and someone else’s mouth on hers. Too late, as it’d seeped into her when she was born, as whole and heavy as the rune branded into her bronze skin and the cleaved socket behind her eyepatch.)

And now it’d taken her as any sickness would, hadn’t it? The kind that made her want to turn around and hack at the Commons with her maul until the stone shattered, until their bones shattered, until every golden rock framing every Paragon salted the earth beneath her feet, gold good enough to make up for her full belly and her scavenged armor that still gleamed and the maul she’d bought with coin ripped off the pockets of looters, still worth a month’s wage that Beraht spared her, that Jarvia had her kneeling and bleeding like a surfacer's war-hound for.

If this was what knowing better felt like, she didn’t sodding ask for it.

Leliana’s eyes followed the brand patterned on to the skin of a beggar- fainted or dead, crushed beneath someone else's boot over the piss-sodden, vomit-soaked stone, all the way to the one against Rahvi’s bronze skin. Gaadha’s gloved fingers brushed against her clenched fists, curling gently around her wrist.

But it was Alistair who spoke, cutting through the silence.

“So this place is..”

His voice was soft, gentled with understanding, and the uptick of a question didn’t ask for an answer.

By the Stone, she’d say it anyway.

“Home.”

[trashmenofmarvel]

Branded - Chapter 30

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky is starving and has to feed. What comes next is inevitable, considering his pattern of luck.

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by araniaart​ . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

Chapter Warnings: Bucky has to feed multiple times against his will and against the will of the men he's feeding on. Graphic dubcon/noncon, though it is brief.

AO3

He banked toward the distant cluster of skyscrapers. Bucky didn’t know where he was, or even what year, but he knew a downtown when he spotted one. HYDRA had trained him for infiltration and espionage, and he’d often been sent to foreign cities on sanctioned missions.

Bucky knew how to move unnoticed through a crowd, but that option was unavailable to him at the moment. He was too hungry and his guise wouldn’t hold. He’d have to look for food in the same way he’d done during the war when he was trying to hide his shameful appetites from his friends and fellow soldiers.

It turned out, wherever there were humans there were shady bars and back-alley quickies. Bucky could smell it on the air as he flew low, and he followed it like a blood hound, nearly silent as the chilly night air rushed over his wings.

Landing on the rooftop of a squat building and looking over the edge, he found what he was searching for. Two men, one with a glowing cigarette between his lips and the other on his knees, bobbing his head with a cock in his mouth.

Bucky barely had the wherewithal to leave the stuffed cat tucked away on the roof. He couldn’t just toss the thing away, but he also didn’t want it with him when he…

It happened quickly, aided by the shadows, Bucky’s speed, and his pheromones going into full affect. The two men were already half-dazed by the time he reached them, addled by the aphrodisiac that wafted off his skin during arousal. He shoved the one on his knees aside, taking his place, the shame and horror flooding him not enough to make him stop.

“What the fuck is that!”

They were terrified, but not enough to run away. The pheromones were too powerful for that. The hands that had been trying to push Bucky away were now wrapped around his horns, and the man he’d pushed aside was unbuckling his belt. Bucky helped, looping his tail around his waist and drawing him closer, moaning around the velvety cock on his tongue.

When the second man lifted his tail and shoved into him, indelicately and careless, Bucky nearly screamed. It was agonizing, and he needed more, needed to make this quick because he was starving—

None of them lasted long, and Bucky didn’t let either of them pull out. Hot semen coated his tongue and filled his ass, and it wasn’t enough, nowhere near enough. It would have to do, because both men were barely conscious, sinking to the ground, drained. They’d recover in a few hours, but their memories would ruin them forever.

Bucky replaced what was left of his pants and realized his face was wet. His gut roiled and he wanted to be sick, but he didn’t dare throw up. He couldn’t stop looking at the two men, innocent victims that he’d assaulted.

“God…” one of them croaked, trying to turn his head away. He had straight blond hair, his skin as pale as a ghost. He reminded Bucky too much of Steve.

The other man wasn’t much better off. He had curly brunette hair and a darker complexion, but even he seemed bloodless and frail.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky gasped in a sob. “I’m so sorry…”

He wished he could take it all back. He’d rather be in the demon realm than here, hurting innocents. HYDRA hadn’t even forced him to do it this time. This had been all him, and he had no one else to blame.

There was only one thing left to do. It wouldn’t make up for what Bucky had done, but it was the only damage control he had available to him. He reached out to the blond man even as he flinched away. He placed a hand on his face, pressed his thumb between his eyes, and activated the same instinct he’d used on the girl.

The man’s eyes rolled into his head, falling unconscious as Bucky extracted the memories from his mind. That was the only way he could describe it, like sucking venom from a wound. The man laid on the dirty asphalt, breathing deeply as if in an untroubled sleep.

“What… what did you do to him?” the other man whimpered. “No, no, stay away! Don’t touch me!”

Bucky grabbed him before he could crawl far and repeated the ability, putting him into a deep sleep before taking away the horrific, traumatic memories.

Bucky stared down at his hands as if they didn’t belong to him. They didn’t feel like it. Besides the guise, he couldn’t do anything magical or arcane. He didn’t know if it was from being in the demon realm for so long, exposed to the energies there, or if it was what HYDRA had done to him. Destroying his memories and making him forget all the evil acts he’d committed on their orders.

Bucky didn’t wait to question it. He’d fed, but he was still starving, and it would take a lot more than two feedings to sate him.

Returning to the rooftop and carefully holding the tabby cat against his chest, Bucky took off, vanishing in the night to search for his next meal.

He found it. And the next night, another meal. It continued like this for three nights, while during the day, he hid in the shadows in dilapidated, abandoned buildings. In that time, he remained in his true form, unable to hold his guise until the third night. It was like an atrophied muscle, unused for so long when it hadn’t been needed.

So when he was finally able to pass for human, or close enough when he found a large pair of rain boots to shove his claw feet into, he went to a local bar and hook-up spot. By that time, he’d found some clothes, ill-fitting but relatively clean. It didn’t matter what he looked like, as soon as he stepped into the bar, his pheromones did the trick, and someone was on his arm leading him toward the back door before he even had time to scope out the place.

This man was smaller, moved strangely like a dancer, and certainly not shy as he led Bucky past dirty dumpsters and piles of trash. Normally his targets weren’t so bold, but maybe he wanted to have a quick fuck before returning to his friends. Worked for Bucky.

It wasn’t until the man dragged him around the corner that unease prickled the back of Bucky’s neck. Something wasn’t right. Even a man confident in his abilities to defend himself wouldn’t go this far from the lights of the bar.

“Hey,” Bucky said. “Here’s fine. We don’t have to—“

Bucky smacked face-first into something invisible, hitting it so hard he bounced off it and fell backwards, sprawling on his ass. The snarl died in his throat as he saw the glowing orange runes underneath his body.

“What the hell?”

The man stood over him, his smile vanished and replaced by a serious frown. Bucky rose to his feet, heart hammering as more figures moved toward him from their hiding places in the shadows. Unlike the man who’d lured him out, they all wore robes that obscured their faces.

Bucky dropped into a crouch and dropped his guise, tail lashing as his wings arched over his head. He bared his teeth and growled low in his throat, glaring at the circle of figures with pure animal rage.

Only one organization knew about Bucky. And only one organization knew how to trap a demon.

HYDRA had found him.

Next Chapter

[fated-imaginings]

any fluffy and or NSFW headcannons about how the cu's deal with a female masters time of the month

Wouldn’t consider this NSFW myself, but of course if any folks aren’t down for this sort of content, you can see the ask and breeze on by.

Proto has the least amount of experience with this sort of thing. He’s young and in the bachelor phase of his life, and hasn’t been close to any women in a way that would cause him to learn much about it. He’d probably become a bit awkward about it at first, a little flighty.

However, if Master asks him to help with anything, he’ll be right on it. Especially if she’s in discomfort or pain. Get her food? Sure. Blankets? Check. Entertainment, of course. Company? Well, yeah, he’s down to hang out if she needs that. 

Of course, if Master gets irritable with him because he’s being a little more awkward/flighty than usual, he’ll apologize, say he just isn’t used to this sort of thing... And Master might be a bit annoyed, but she doesn’t mean to get prickly when he’s doing his best, and gets a bit of a sad face when apologizing... 

Proto will be quick though to reassure her that it’s fine, he’s happy to help. Just say the word. Good pupper, 10/10

Lancer is a bit more accustomed to this. He had a wife, and of course that meant that he knows what it’s like when a woman’s on her period. When Master starts getting a bit more emotional than usual, a bit more tired and reluctant to be active, he picks up on it after a little bit. 

He’ll just casually ask Master if she wants to chill out for a bit with X, Y, or Z, and offers to grab some snacks and blankets. If Master’s having cramps, well, he doesn’t have quite a delicate enough knowledge and control of his runes to help, but he himself is very warm. If she wants his hand on her back, or to rub against her stomach, or to just cuddle up, he doesn’t mind. 

He’s in full attentive mode because he knows that this time can be pretty miserable, and he doesn’t like his Master being uncomfortable or in pain. Great doggo, 10/10

Caster is even more experienced than Lancer, and he’s got an edge over him with greater skill when it comes to runes. He’ll catch on maybe a bit faster than his immediate counterpart, and chances are he’ll make similar offers. 

The difference is that with runes, he knows how to basically form a magical heating pad around her abdomen 24/7. Which does some wonders for the cramps, especially given how cold Chaldea usually is. The downside is the lack of cuddling. He’s not as casually touchy-feely as his younger selves, despite being a bit pervy at times. So Master will have to ask outright, which she may or may not feel inclined to after he’s already gone out of his way to help.

At least the times when she has to get up and do things are more bearable thanks to the runes. 9/10 doggo, not as cuddly but still good.

Alter is where things don’t go as smoothly. He doesn’t notice, doesn’t really care. If Master seems uncomfortable, or more tired, or more snappish and quicker to tear up, he at first assumes it’s just a bad day or two. It’s when she starts hugging her middle and giving more hurried, flat responses, like she’s just trying to get things over with as fast as possible, that he finally addresses it.

His first question, naturally, is if she’s sick. No? Then what’s the problem. This isn’t like her. She didn’t get injured, he’s making sure of that. A bit of blunt prodding and she’ll snap that she’s on her period and cramps are making things miserable. 

Alter’s first inclination is that she should just suck it up and power through, but he has enough sense not to say that. She obviously IS doing that, but it’s clearly not going too well. Next is to ask if there isn’t anything she can take to dull the pain. No? Painkillers are reserved for emergencies only? Fine.

He point blank asks what she wants, then, and it isn’t long before Master is just ranting that she’s too cold, it feels like her insides are turning inside out while she’s being stabbed, she’s hungry, she hasn’t slept enough, and she’s had it up to HERE with just about everything today!

There is not a hugely empathetic response. However, Alter’s first and last loyalty is to his Master, and if his Master is distressed and needs help? Then that’s what he’s working on. He says fine, then missions are over for the day. He gets her to her room or an entertainment room and gets her blankets and whatever food she asks for. He says he can’t do anything about the pain, though...

When Master says the cold makes it worse, his only real reaction is “huh.” When she asks him to keep her warm, his reaction is “what.” But it’s not like he’s doing anything, and it’s a direct request from Master. He’s not thrilled, but he’s loyal, so with a sigh he’ll settle down and let her cuddle up, or just curl around her if that’s what she wants. Not the nicest hound, but does what needs to be done, 5/10

[multistanismsarchive]

Let Our Circle Be Unbroken;  Prologue | NCT

FANDOM: NCT

PAIRING: Jaehyun x Taeyong, Yuta x OC

WORD COUNT: 1,703

RATING: PG-13

POTENTIAL TRIGGERS: Mentions of violence, blood, pain, animal death

SUMMARY:  Surviving a near death experience comes with a lot of surprises when warlock Jeong Jaehyun finds a dragon in a place that holds tragic memories for him. Nothing is as whirlwind, though, as when Jaehyun begins to meet the little clan of misfits Taeyong has gathered over the years and a mystery is revealed.

Sneak Peeks | Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

‘Shit. This is bad. Really bad.’ Jaehyun thought as he ran. His magic enabled him to carry an unnatural speed in his rush, but the blood seeping from his side was an impending sign of how quickly he could lose consciousness if he wasn't careful. He could hear the hunters, however, so stopping was not a viable option. The small group was far enough out of reach to not make a direct hit on him with their weapons but still close enough to hear their hounds and shouts. Humans with little more than fear and a prejudice against those who were different. Jaehyun was no fool to think he was immune to the tragedy of the human mind; he'd lived long enough to know better. No one who was born supernatural - even humans who happened to have a supernatural ancestor and ended up gifted - could escape being the object of human failure. 

This, though, was by far the closest in centuries the warlock had felt close to death. Even his magic was waning, losing it's precision as his vision began to blur and darken at the edges. 'Fuck, I’m running out of time.' The thought hit him harder than a swift punch to the stomach or an unexpected kick to the nether region, and the warlock dove into the shadows of a nearby alley, cloaking himself. A swift escape was of utmost importance if he planned on surviving the wound in his side and keeping his eyes; the thing Jaehyun knew they would take as a trophy from his death. Dark hair was caked with sweat and Jaehyun is glaringly aware that he needs to focus on escaping or he may not make it to see the sunrise. His manor isn’t safe anymore, he knows that. If they could flush him out from his café, they no doubt knew where his home was. His other properties were currently being used as safehouses, and Jaehyun was in no way going to kickstart any stress or shock to those guests. A shaky breath shook Jaehyun’s body as he closed his eyes, glamour falling. As he looked up at the sky, he opened his eyes, revealing reptilian green irises accented by rainbow slits. His glamour wasn’t a priority compared to the situation he was in. A breath taken too hard made him wince as he leaned his head back against the dark grey terracotta wall.

‘Damn it, Jaehyun, think.’ he scolds himself, hand pressing to the gunshot wound in his side. ‘Think, think, think. Somewhere. There has to be somewhere.’ 

He’s jolted back to reality viciously when the renewed sounds of baying from the dogs is suddenly much closer. Large hunting breeds, vicious when they find their intended target. Fear riddles through Jaehyun’s blood like a discarded cigar on gasoline, and there’s a sudden flash through his mind. The answer is a risk, and there are so many emotions that bubble through his heart, but escape is at his grasp and he isn’t going to squander it because of a past he’d rather forget. Hope blooms to simmer down some of the fear, and his eyes ripple to life, glamour and natural color fighting as he brings the necessary casting rune to the forefront of his mind. He knows he has one, maybe two or an even slimmer three chances at this before he completely loses consciousness from the blood and he’s killed by fangs and crossbows alike. He traces the rune over the concrete, begging for it to work. Uneven breath halts when the magic fizzles and dies, leaving a pale shape on the cement. ‘No. Damn it to hell.’ he thought, frantically scribbling the rune on the cold pavement again. ‘Not here. Not like this. Please, no.’ Every fiber of his being was focused between panic and the need to escape. The rune fizzles at the edges and Jaehyun’s heart begins dropping before the magic sticks and the rune changes shape into the round portal that offers him escape. He moved to toss himself through the hole when his relief was cut short. A loud growl and sharp pain exploded over his arm as one of the dogs located him. With a yelp, Jaehyun’s balance was lost and he fell into the space, dragging the canine with him into the brief abyss before he crashed into a table on a large porch that gave way. 

Air left him in a rush and a weak groan, the overall pain finally making it almost impossible to stay awake. The dog released his arm and went to find purchase elsewhere when something snatched it up, and Jaehyun was vaguely aware of potential danger when he heard the brief scuffle of his predator becoming prey instead. Danger. The manor in the field wasn’t safe, either, it seemed. His vision was nearly completely black at this point, all he was aware of was black and rainbow dancing before him as unconsciousness took him hostage. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dragons had long faded from the forefront of the minds of the normal humans, but it wasn’t so simple as they had died off or been killed. Most had merely learned to stay in their human forms when among the masses, clans separated into smaller numbers to keep the species safe. Lee Taeyong was the youngest of the small sect from his clan, and the first to leave to find a clan of his own. His older sister, Areum, and their parents supported the choice, knowing full well that Taeyong had never really been able to be happy among only dragons. 

“Something else calls to you, little brother. You have to follow that to find your happiness.” Areum had told him as he had prepared to leave. IT was an emotional goodbye, but somehow, Taeyong knew he was heading into great things. 

And so the young dragon had gone off, found a clan of his own, and though the ranks weren’t large, the overall species was well mixed. And sometimes the clan had their own business to attend to, which was how Taeyong had found himself wandering the world, looking for a kind of vacation home for when the clan could reunite under one roof again. He had found one and had been working on remodeling and repairing it. The walls had all come down at their own pace, and the dragon had replaced them all and brought the house back to a lovely splendor. The high, covered wrap around porch was carefully set with a few swings, tables and chairs. Various plants were hung from the edge of the covering, a few potted plants settled among the railing around the porch. What had been an abandoned mansion that felt tragic and hopeless had started changing into a loving space. There was no furniture, but that would come in time. For now, the most important part was complete. The building was ready for it’s first bout of excitement when the clan gathered, and Taeyong was happy to think of that as he sat on the porch swing near the front door with a hot cup of tea as he watched the fall leaves drift about on the wind. His dream of making the property a home was almost done. A large garden ran along the west side of the mansion, a flower garden with a large pond and gazebo just north of the back entrance of the house. Imagining the fun and laughter that would one day be had made him content and he was humming softly to himself when there was a ripple of magic that pricked at his senses and made the hair on his arms stand up, goosebumps tracing up pale skin even under the soft, warm fabric of his favorite hoodie. Said goosebumps shivered briefly into black and rainbow colored scales that faded faster than they appeared. 

Curious, Taeyong reached to set his cup on the side table next to the swing, standing to walk down the porch steps and look around, hand resting on the large picnic table settled onto a large stone garden setup he had made for au fresco dining. Face contorted in confusion, he hummed curiously, moving to turn back when the magic came back in a much stronger wave, and Taeyong shifted out of protective instinct. The strong scent of coppery blood hit his nose first, then a loud crash and growling. When the intruding creature realized there was someone else, it released its prey to charge at Taeyong, only to wind up eaten by the large dragon. Tension still in his muscles, he turned his attention to the now destroyed table. The tabletop itself was surprisingly intact, the legs, however, would need to be remade. Now, though, with the immediate threat out of the way, the dragon brought himself closer to the scent of blood to better investigate. What he found was startling for him. The male was unconscious and very hurt, and despite the wounds and ragged breathing, Taeyong could see the male was beautiful. Magic was a palpable taste in the air, telling Taeyong the young man was likely a warlock or witch. What struck the dragon as odd was the intense need to save the other. 

Shifting back into human form, he lifted the other with ease, forgetting about the blood around his mouth and on his clothes as he carried the male into the mansion and laid him on the couch. “Where did you come from, beautiful?” he asked, looking over what he could to assess the damage. Blood had dried the male’s clothing to his skin, and there was a chunk of the man’s arm from the animal biting him. It was a lot to patch up for just one dragon, so Taeyong made a choice as he wrapped the dark blanket he’d been using around the unknown male. He walked to the porch to grab his phone, dialing a number as he knelt by the couch to brush his hand through the dark hair of the hurt man. When the other side fo the line picked up, Taeyong smiled. 

“Hey there, handsome. Are you and Arashi free? I need some serious help and your girl has the best magic to do so.”

[hecohansen31]

What We Used To Be As Children

Harald Finehair x Reader (Vikings Era).

(A/N): Hello there, @gearhead66​!

A little bird told me that you were having quite the rough patch this July, and that today was your birthday, so I thought about doing a small thing for you to enoy and to brighten your mood, I hope at least!

Hope you’ll enjoy this!

SUMMARY: You had always been in love with your veloved childhood friend, but to him you weren’t anything more than a fellow memory, but when time come for you both to marry, he might just change his mind.

WORDS: 2,1 K

WARNINGS: Slight Mention of Abusive Household, Reader’s Struggles and Insecurities, Not Exactly Following The Series (but when do I ever?)

Rumors had been going through the entire Vesterfold that the king would choose a bride soon.

And it replenished your heart with so much sorrow and sadness.

You couldn’t deny that you had avoided your beloved friend Harald for quite some time, although it was difficult since you had been attached to the hip since you were children.

The man had many times moved away from kingly duties to ‘annoy’ you in your work of keeping the household clean.

And your siblings, rigorously all boys, fed.

Who liked teasing you and liked Harald much more than you, teaming up with him against you, each time.

And being worst gossipers than you, yourself.

One time, they had almost made your heart rush out of your chest, because the eldest of them had commented that you were ‘old’ and still ‘unmarried’ as if it was your fault, when your father could barely keep his trousers on his work, your only income.

Harald’s generous offers that you had started accepting after a winter you had been all your brothers almost die of starvation.

You had never meant to take advantage of your friendship with the king, although your father insisted that you did, always commenting on you as if you were some kind of prized cow to be sold out to the best offer.

You and Harald had grown up as smart children, always left to fend for each other and eventually you had developed a protectiveness between each other that made him worry for your family and you for his poor battered heart.

Harald had a taste in women that was dangerous, to say the least.

But you didn’t want to appear as some kind of jealous freak, preferring to simply smile, meanwhile your heart broke from the inside, because you both grow up, him with the idea of a kingdom for Eilisif, you had grown up with the idea of a small life with him.

And everybody in your house seemed to know.

You had been talking with Harald, having invited him inside as he had brought you some meat leftovers from the latest feast, and he had witnessed your brother unhappy comment and you had caught the onto it, glaring at your brother in a way that had made him stand up in his place.

But your younger brother couldn’t be convinced so easily, with his big mouth.

“… here comes the reason why our sister is unmarried!” he had shouted, meanwhile the toddler of the family had waved at Harald with his tiny hands, evidently having also understood what your brother had meant.

Your face had then been coated with crimson and even the ever-feared Harald Finehair beside you had blushed lightly, order your younger brothers ‘to leave you alone’, although it was a comment that held no strength in it.

Soon after the news of him having to marry came arriving to all Vesterfold and you had started avoiding him attentively, leaving only accidental meetings at the market or when you came to the feasts mostly for the food and the ale.

You wondered whether the knowledge of your interest in him had speeded up the process of him wanting to marry or he had been harboring the idea for quite some time.

Both ideas made you uneasy.

And your heart had already shattered itself to the ground the night that you had discovered he had invited a stranger in his own bed, bringing her from Kattegat and calling her aòready ‘his queen’.

You had never wanted that title for yourself.

Your childish-self had once jokingly married Harald in the middle of a clearing with only a dress of cotton and flowers threaded in your and his hair, and you would have done it again.

But he had obviously shown that he didn’t care for such a thing with you.

You had then wondered whether it had been you who had not been enough or if he had been too interested in following flames to sit properly at the hearth and enjoy its warmth.

Either way, it was none of your business.

It would never be, from the moment he swore his loyalty to her.

What good was a childhood friend to him now that he had a lifelong company?

And your father must have thought the same, thinking that if you lost Harald’s favor, he would have soon lost all his income and he wouldn’t have been able to simply sleep off the all day.

He had to do something about it.

He had to sell you out.

He had already sold all the pieces your mother had left from her morgengifu, so you were the only thing he could still sell without being looked like the madman he was and you welcomed gladly his choice, because you would have at least something to take care of your head meanwhile Harald enjoyed his wife.

And your soon-to-be-husband turned out to be a merchant, who had paid your father an hefty sum for your fertile hips and pretty smile, although you could feel his arrogant soul, you knew that you’d have travelled far away.

You’d be worried for your brothers, but some fresh air would have helped you.

And soon words of your engagement got out of your small town, mostly because of your father, who in a drunken fit confessed to you:

‘I had to fucking marry off my sole daughter to a foreigner… because that cunt of a king would hound her like a dog, scaring off all her suitors’.

You had calmed down your father, suggesting that Harald hadn’t cared about you all that much.

Had he cared for you at all, he wouldn’t have hounded your suitors, but he would have followed you, to chase your hand marriage.

But it’d never happen.

Or so you thought.

That afternoon you had been working thread and stitch, preparing your bridal dress and bridal towels, embedded with runes of fertility and strength, and although you weren’t looking forward to  wear the former and use the latter, you found the gesture strangely reassuring.

It certainly helped you to keep your mind focused.

And then all your friends were gasping, meanwhile you were teaching a smaller girl an elegant pattern and you thought your father must have again forgot his pants at home, but as you raised your head to scold him, you found it wasn’t your naked father.

It was much worse.

It was Harald.

“Ladies, will you do the favor of leaving me and (Y/N), alone?” his tone might have been an order and soon, in a fury of cotton and stitches all your friends had left the room, as you shifted uncomfortable on the chair.

It had gone all so well.

You had been able to avoid him perfectly and soon you’d be shipped off with your husband, enough not to have to meet him again.

You hoped and dreaded that thought.

“You aren’t seriously even going to face me?” his tone was arrogant and aggressive, pushing your head to look further up on the worn out boots you had chosen for that day.

Although you didn’t have much choice, since they were the only ones you owned.

You didn’t have the algid beauty of Astrid or the elegance of Eilisif, certainly not being able to compare yourself to them.

But you wouldn’t have hurt Harald.

Not intentionally at least.

“… we used to be best friends and now you can’t even face me” commented Harald with disdain in his tone “… what might have I done to make you act like this?”.

‘You are marrying, after you promised to do the same with me, under a crown of oranges and lilies’.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to say it.

“I’ll be a married woman soon” you simply chanted, the words sounding so foreign on your tongue “… and I don’t think it is proper for me to see other men that don’t belong to my family”.

Harald took a sharp hiss and then his fist hit the back of the chair next to him, startling you at the horrid sound that gesture made, not afraid of Harald, never afraid of him.

But the gesture wanted to make you fight him.

“… don’t ruin my house” also your voice was a hiss, a snake hiss, as your eyes finally met Harald’s amber ones “… you’ll be a polite guest or I’ll have my fun throwing ‘an old friend’ outside, believe me…”.

And Harald’s face shone of hidden amusement.

Because that had been the façade his friend had always given him.

And that was why he had chosen you, through so many children.

You didn’t give a shit and you wouldn’t have coddled him.

“… then don’t bullshit me” he shot back “… your soon-to-be-husband isn’t the one thing stopping you from visiting me… and if he is… he isn’t the right one for you”.

“As if you knew who is right for me” you spoke back, as you crossed your arms over your chest, leaving your weight completely on the back of the chair.

And he had pushed himself forward, grabbing under your chin with a swiftness that had caught you completely off guard.

“… I do” and his eyes spoke of inner truth “… you deserve somebody who’ll treat you with kindness and won’t be afraid of that savage side you hide to everyone but me”.

“My future husband might be just like that”.

But even your tone wasn’t convincing.

In the slightest.

“You were always a terrible liar”.

“And father wants to sell me. He has to since you won’t be providing for us anymore”.

Harald’s eyes became tight at that mention and you knew you had hit a sore spot.

He had always wondered what people loved him truly for, aching for a pure love, one that would have withstood rain and fire, whether he was a king or not.

And he hadn’t ever had anybody for that.

Except you.

But you knew he harbored some doubts due to your father’s inquiries towards him.

And you knew the quickest way to push him away.

“… who told him I won’t take care of you” one of his hands lowered itself onto your arm to stop you from the cross position you were in “… I’d take care of you and your family for as long as I live”.

“Will you swear it?” you were teasing darkly, and you saw the beast appearing in the man’s eyes.

And it made liquid arousal fall down between your legs, making you shift your legs closer, a gesture that didn’t go unnoticed to Harald.

But you brought back his attention.

“… you’ll have a wife” his eyes were glued on your body, as they lowered themselves slowly “… and she won’t be happy of your help towards me, Wives are jealous and wicked things, wanting their husbands solely for themselves”.

“I thought husbands were like that” he commented, and soon his hand was again under your chin, indulging on your throat in a way that was a sensual caress and suddenly the air in the room had tensed itself up and it wasn’t rageful anymore.

It was arousal.

“… wives hold the heart of the beasts in their hands, believe me” you chastised him, holding yourself closer till you were inches apart from doing what you had ached obtaining for a whole lifetime.

Not a child anymore, and neither a clumsy teen.

A full-grown woman.

And a threat in itself.

Harald pushed you back still so easily that it made you feel like a ragdoll.

And soon you were in his arm, unable to run away.

But could you seriously run away from the place you had always wanted to stay in.

“Did you just say that I am a beast”.

“I am not your wife, so you aren’t my beast” and then realized that one minute spent in his arms would have been a minute more of torment in your mind “… leave me, Harald, my father could walk over us and…”.

“… he has already… so many times” he spoke loudly “… and you don’t want me to leave”.

“Think about your wife!” you tried to make him reason.

“… I don’t have a wife” he breathed on your lips.

“Not yet!”.

“Not anymore”.

And that surprised you as your eyes pleaded him for more.

“I sent her away…” he confessed, as he brought you closer and right on your lips he whispered “My heart is not mine to give because it is already yours”.

[higuchimon]

[prompts]

I've just been going over my WIPs and prompts and made a decision. While I've said I want to empty out my inbox this year, that won't be a thing, sadly. Because combined, my plans for both WIPs and prompts comprise over a million words. That would require writig over seven thousand words a day and that's not even remotely possible for me.

So, I'm going to focus on my WIPs and I will work on filling prompts as best I can, but I cannot promise anything will be done at any given point. We'll see how it all comes out. I have a bad habit of making fills very complex and the ideas just won't go away. So I'll do my very best.

So, this means the following prompts (i.e., all of them) are on hold until I can clear through more of my WIPs. I'm honestly tempted to alternate them, now that I think about it. Finish a posted WIP, write a fill, finish a posted WIP, lather, rinse, repeat. Which means next is finishing a posted WIP.

ETA: of course, there will always be unexpected ideas that strike out of the blue & focus weeks/months. So I will post new non-prompt works at times as well.

Regardless: on hold as of now:

please shut the hell up: Yuuya x Yuuto

holding hands walking in snow: Fubuki x Manjoume

librarian/avid reader AU: Kinshiro x Atsushi

taking the hit: Hikari & Ken

drink me: Yubel x Juudai x Johan

please, put it DOWN: Edo x Ryou

please listen to me/I told you not to all in love with me: Yubel x Johan

look at at me - just breathe, okay?: Taichi x Daisuke

ouija board: Ken x Daisuke

sleeping together/call me: Yuusaku x Ryouken

two pizzas & Oroos: Jim & Toby

date soulmate dies on your wrist: Edo x Ryou

share extreme physical sensation: Yubel x Juudai x Johan

Arc-V: Yubel x Juudai x Johan

Summer Camp/Bathtub: Yubel x Juudai x Johan

obsession/pet: Kaiser x Daisuke

Blanket fort: Sora, Riku, & Kairi

I thought you said you didn't have any powers: Juudai & SHou, Reversal Healer/Firestarter AU

Tucking their hands beneath the other person’s shirt, just to watch them break the kiss and gasp in surprise at the sensation of cold/warm hands on their skin; One person tracing the other’s lips with a fingertip until they can’t resist any longer, tilting their chin towards them for a kiss/A kiss, followed by more that trail down the jaw and neck: Kaiser x Daisuke

heart growing three sizes, the grinch-style: Kaiser x Daisuke

it’s a christmas miracle!: Ken x Daisuke

cuddling for warmth: Ken x Daisuke [breeds]

the nutcracker: Ken x Daisuke: [breeds]

“I cannot emphasise, just how immeasurably fucking stupid, this idea is.”: Ken x Daisuke: ageswap

"You're insane." "You love me." "Not right now I don't." Ken x Daisuke: breeds

Yubel x Juudai: Please listen to me

And these are my posted WIPs (except Wings of Freedom because I update that on a weekly basis anyway):

What's Mine Is Mine: Kaiser x Daisuke: 14/20 chapters: 900 wpc: 5,400

Meeting The Babies: Vector, Yuuri: 2/6 chapters: 1,600 wpc: 6,740

Royal Hound: Juudai, Wolf (OC): 3/5 fics: 3,800 wpf: 7,600

Strange Friends: Rin, Rei: 1/8 chapters: 1,200 wpc: 8,397

Fatherhood: Brron, Rune, Johan: 1/8 chapters: 1,200 wpc: 8,499

On The Other Side: Rune, Latinum: 1/12 chapters: 1,500 wpc: 16,500

Chains of Blood: Ruki x Renamon: 6/10 chapters: 4,500 wpc: 22,000

Hunting Games: Juudai, Guardian Baou, Hane Kuriboh, & Geise: 2/17 chapters: 1,000 wpc: 15,000

One of Those Days: Hiroaki, Piemon, Yamato: 3/12 chapters: 1,600 wpc: 14,400

Shards of Ice: Rio, Rin: 2/12 chapters: 1,500 wpc: 14,938

Succumb To The Shadows: Juudai: 1/15 chapters: 1,200 wpc: 16,796

Choice To Protect: Ken x Daisuke: 1/18 chapters: 1,000 wpc: 17,000

Call of Darkness: Lucifer (OC), others: 6/10: 4,500 wpc: 18,000

In Any World: Yubel x Juudai: 4/10 stories: 4,500 wpf: 28,000

Shadow Strings: Yubel x Juudai, Johan, Rune: 1/24 chapters: 2,000 wpc: 46,000

Kingseeker: Guardian Baou, Juudai: 1/45 chapters: 1,000 wpc: 44,000

Passing The Torch, Willing Or Not: Yubel x Juudai, Johan: 1/40 chapters: 1,200 wpc: 46,800

Unholy Desires: Taichi x Yamato: 12/50 chapters: 2,000 wpc: 76,000

Across The Threshold: Ryou x Mizael: 2/36 chapters: 2,500 wpc: 85,000

War of the Undead: Ryou: 19/60 chapters: 3,000 wpc: 123,000

[unholyplumpprincess]

Okay so. Imagine Hound likes to play their game of prey and preditor, The first time they lose is to Rune. What would that look like? How would they both react? What would Rune do to their love if they could do ANYTHING as is the rules of the game.

Cam it is FINALLY time as I get back into apex. Chanting: Horny puppies, horny puppies, horny puppi-

This ended up more of a fic so OOPS.

Disclaimer rq too to help others: Hound is the name of my Bloodhound hc and Rune is my partner's @hunterofthegods Bloodhound hc! The quick dirty explanation is that they both are Bloodhound, childhood friends to lovers, married, and both fight in the arena!

Reblogs > Likes! If you hit like/heart, make sure to reblog to support future content and make your local writer supported and happy :D

AO3 link: Here!

Fandom: Apex Legends

Relationship: Bloodhound (Hound) x Bloodhound (Rune)

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, Bloodhound on Bloodhound action, tiddy fuckin, primal play

Words: 2.3k

__________

Hound has always been into primal play. Chasing or being chased- though, no one had ever caught them before. Even in the arena, it had to be through dirty tricks. Hound was quick on their feet, ears always perked in the thrill of the hunt.

But with Rune? Rune had always rivaled them. As children, it used to be petty games of hide and seek. Rune would try to cheat, climbing trees to get out of their line of sight. But Hound always seemed to find them, laughter always filling the air.

As teens, they'd gotten trickier. Rune had gotten taller, bigger, faster. But Hound had gotten smarter. Always besting them and making Rune groan loud out of frustration.

And now, as adults, it didn't change. Hound always won. Always. Even if Rune gave them a run for their money, they never managed to get away in time. Especially when the stakes were upped. Traps now allowed, their ravens allowed to join, even knives and specialized bolas to throw and try to catch each other off guard.

Of course, there was always stakes in the game as well. Rewards for capturing the prey.

This time? If caught? Do whatever the winner pleased.

~Rest under the cut~

Rune was the one doing the chasing this time. Hound had never offered such a prize before, but seeing as how they had been the victor for ages- why not sweeten the deal?

The deal had been spoken as they had slowly straddled Rune's lap on the couch they had been perched upon. Their cold breath caressing the point of Rune's pierced ear and making it twitch. The promise, the stakes coming from Hound's lips lowly.

"If you catch me," Their voice full of promise and mischief as teeth gently nip at the sensitive ear, making Rune's breath catch and fingers flexing on the swell of Hound's hips. "Pup, I shall grant you whatever you wish. Whatever you would like to do to me- and from me. I shall be at your whim for the night."

"All night?" Rune's voice strains, their clawed fingertips toying with the bottom of Hound's top. Hound hums in confirmation, nosing at the junction of their neck lovingly with a gentle kiss placed there. "How you tease, my love. And what is in it for you, little minx?"

Hound stifles a wolfish grin gracing their lips, tracing their tongue up to Rune's ear and hearing how their sigh shakes with the cold touch. "Mmh. I believe I shall take the same offer. If I escape your clutches for the hour; As soon as golden hour has ended and only the moon can see us as we are? Then you are mine for the night."

"I would be yours like this if you only asked-" Rune begins to tease, turning their head to nose at Hound's neck who only laughs quietly to themself.

"You would whine and snap your sharp teeth the entire time. What I am offering- and asking for-, little one, is pure submission." They turn their head finally, catching Rune's lips in a soft kiss that they easily melt into. They part soon enough, nuzzling their nose briefly to Rune's. "No fighting. No dirty tricks either."

"Oh but how you love when I play dirty." Rune insists, their thumbs now tucking beneath Hound's pants to brush their claws across their hips. It entices a shiver from Hound, encouraging Rune to try to drag their hips downwards to make Hound sit in their lap.

Hound resists, but with great restraint.

They nip at Rune's lower lip before pulling from their grasp. They can see how Rune watches them dangerously, their slit pupil razor thin and a tent in the front of their pants. Hound stifles a smirk.

"Two minute head start." Hound practically croons, but watches as Rune sits up with a growl. Looking ever like royalty as Rune leans on their own thighs.

"One minute." Rune's snarl is low, their voice thick with arousal and already tried patience from the teasing.

Hound can feel the heat seep between their legs and finds a sigh unwillingly escaping their lips.

"One minute." Hound agrees, unknowing that would seal their fate. Too cocksure and arrogant with their prowess.

___

The forest is full of the loud cries of insects and the distant sounds of creatures. Talos is in spring now, wildflowers blossoming and the trees smelling sweet of their fruits and flowers. The grass is lush in the forest, the trees stretching endlessly overhead as the golden sun peeks through in rays.

Their respirator is not needed when the air is warmed. Hound's boots pound through the mud and moist earth as they run, making use of their one minute head start to put as much distance between them and the hulking giant that is their spouse.

They make sure to make their tracks hard to watch, climbing over branches and turning the direction of their boots to either smudge the tracks or look as if they've gone in another direction. Sometimes they even take to climbing the trees to make their tracks disappear, carefully transferring from branch to branch before finally jumping down.

It's only the croak of a raven sitting prettily on a branch and cocking its head to Hound do they realize just how close Rune is. Yggdrasil, Rune's raven, looking all too smug for a corvid at giving away Hound's location.

Hound runs quicker at that point in time, the sun starting to set and they can taste the sweet sweet win on the tip of their tongue. Already having plans for Rune and what they'd do to them tonight.

They duck under a heavy branch, pausing only briefly when their nose picks up a familiar scent. And then their ears perk, hearing the loud steps behind them that sound like a raging prowler.

Hound doesn't have to turn around to know Rune has caught sight of them.

Thankfully, Hound is smaller. Able to fit in tighter spaces that take longer for Rune to get through. It's their trick as they fit between the spaces of fallen trees, ducking and darting into a nearby clearing. Just past it would be thicker trees again, easier to get lost in. The price to pay for briefly being out in the open.

Their mistake is slight, the smallest weakness that nobody else would catch. Just a tiny glance over their shoulder to see if Rune had made it out of the trees. Nobody would notice it.

Besides of course the one who knew them best.

It's enough distraction to see Rune's amber hair flicking wildly behind them from the trees. Hound has to come to a brief stop when they hear a croak in front of them, Yggdrasil swooping in front of them to make Hound startle and nearly fall in the mud in the small time it took them to glance back.

Something is thrown at the same time they startle, but Hound manages to dodge out of the way of the bolas thrown at them. But that's distraction number two. They run again, nearly making it to the thick trees just as the moon starts to rise-

Hound yelps as they're tackled. Arms nestled around their waist and forcing them down into lush, thick grass and wild flowers. They don't allow enough time as they start to squirm and kick. Turning their head, their teeth sink into the nearest arm and hear Rune snarl above them. A brief jerk of their arm allowing enough release for Hound to squirm out of their grasp-

Only to have their ankle snatched by Rune and yanking them across the grass in a skid.

Rune's heavier body engulfs them, forcefully fitting between Hound's thighs and pulling their arms above their head with one hand. Rune looks just as feral and wild as Hound feels, still kicking and hissing as they thrust their hips up to try and buck Rune off. Feeling the outline of their cock heavy in their pants.

Hound realizes their mistakes quickly. In teasing Rune and offering such a tempting treat.

Teeth worry Hound's neck as Rune leans down and threatens to bite with their sharp, serrated teeth. It's enough of a quiet threat to make Hound's body still, panting heavy underneath their spouse as their eyes stare up to the moon now rising behind them

Rune won.

Rune...won.

"The prize is mine, my love." Rune's voice is thick, ragged as they trail their lips across Hound's neck. Hound shudders beneath them, huffing when Rune's hips press flush to their own. "You may fight me. I like when you're feisty."

"You are terrible-" Hound pants out, thrashing underneath Rune as they try to yank their wrists free of their tight grasp. "Dirty tricks-"

"That you have allowed in our games."

"Using Yggdrasil-"

"Again, your rules." Rune sounds amused as Hound throws a hissy fit beneath them. They're all too smug, and look far too gorgeous with their wild hair framing them both like a curtain. "I have won, Hound. Admit it."

Hound bites their cheek then, looking up with the dirtiest look they can muster. Their glare could kill, and yet, Rune just smiles so wonderfully down at them. So sweet, and yet so arrogant.

"You," Hound begins, watching Rune's smile slowly turn to a grin. Tík. "Have won. You may have your prize."

"I intend to," Rune murmurs with far too much arrogance that makes Hound thrust their hips up to try and buck them off. They don't even flinch, and Hound curses their size difference for once in their life. "Do not pout, my love. I can smell it on you. You are into this. You wouldn't offer yourself as such if you didn't wish it either."

It's true. Hound, somewhere deep in them, did wish for this outcome. That Rune would take them viciously, finally having dominance above them that would be without teeth or taming Hound.

"Admit it." Rune practically whispers, their voice ragged as they lean down into Hound. Catching their gaze with their own that sparkles with mischief.

Hound's breath shakes, their brows furrowing and feeling the ache to bite their cheek. Their lashes flutter, unable to hold the intense gaze as they turn their head to the side. They struggle to find the words, embarrassment stretching across their skin as their voice wavers. "I-I..."

Rune doesn't speak, and Hound quietly thanks them for holding their tongue. A shaky breath enters Hound's lungs, their brows furrowing and their eyes searching in the darkness. Anywhere but Rune's face.

"I," Hound begins, swallowing and feeling foolish for being so flustered. "I want this. I...I am yours, my love. To do with what you wish."

"Stay still. I have brought rope if you shall not be...compliant." Rune warns, but Hound stays put. A true hunter of their word, they allow Rune the prize. Holding still as Rune carefully releases them, and Hound keeps their arms above their head.

Rune begins stripping them slowly, first working on Hound's top and jacket. And once those are removed, their sports bra is next. Making their heavy breast spill out and catching Hound's breath as Rune snarls down at them. One of their pierced nipples is immediately nursed in Rune's mouth, red hot across their chilled skin.

Hound arches into the touch, tossing their head to the side and whimpering without meaning to. Rune moans lewdly into them in turn, moving to give their opposite breast attention as their hand raises to squeeze the now neglected breast.

It isn't long before Hound is stripped bare, whilst Rune simply removes their own shirt and begins to undo the fly on their pants. Rune moves themself to straddle Hound's rib cage, their voice low. "You know what to do, Hound."

Hound huffs, but obeys without more guidance. They reach up, pressing their breasts together and looking up at Rune from under their lashes as they groan. Rune's cock is proportional, pierced, the tattoo on the base making Hound's mouth water. The head is flushed, and with an elegant stroke of Rune's hand from head to base, it reveals it's glistening with pre-cum from their foreskin.

Rune licks their palm to spread lubrication on their cock before letting it slip between Hound's breasts. The moan Rune releases is primal, and Hound can't help but squirm their thighs together as they look up at them. In the moonlight, Rune looked gorgeous, the sweat clinging to their skin and half dressed.

"Good. That is good, my love. How behaved you are for me- look at you. Nothing but a domesticated pup now, hm?" Rune's voice is rough, low as they slowly thrust their hips. The head of their cock coming to kiss Hound's lips with every thrust inwards. Hound can't help themself, swiping their split tongue over it whenever they can.

Soon Rune is moving Hound's hands away from their breasts, replacing them with their own large hands and swiping their thumbs over their nipples. Hound is helpless but to just lie there and be used, panting and whimpering with small squirms and twitches of their sensitive body.

Rune doesn't last long either, ragged grunts and quiet huffs yanked from their throat as they start to move faster. A snarl leaving their lips of, "Tongue out, Hound." That is so ragged and raw that Hound is quick to obey.

They part their plump lips, letting their tongue loll out and looking up at Rune from under their lashes. It's what does their beloved in, cumming with a few sharp thrusts. It covers Hound's breasts with cum, splashes of it coming onto their tongue, their lips, across their nose and cheeks as they close their eyes to avoid any getting there.

Rune's breaths are heavy and hot, keeping still above them as their thumbs and forefingers now tug on Hound's nipples just to hear them whimper.

"I am not even close to done with you yet, my love. We have many years of your wins to make up for, don't we?" Rune murmurs, quiet and dangerous.

Hound's cant find it in them to even be upset about losing.

[little-legend-baby]

Sleepy Studying

Author’s Note: This is my first time posting fanfiction here on tumblr, yikes. I hope that whoever sees this enjoys it, it brought me some comfort writing it while I was having a dark weekend. 

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing Remus Lupin x Ravenclaw OC

Word count: 1743

The Hogwarts library had a special ability with light. Depending on where and how the light hit the endless shelves, it could make one feel any wide range of emotions. During a sunny day with the rays of light spilling onto the lightly dusted books, it brought a feeling of serenity. But at night, when there was little more than the occasional lamp and candle to light the rooms, it felt like a living mystery. Dark corridors of shelves, secrets tucked away within the endless pages of books… it was eerie but fascinating. 

There was one particular corner, however, that was less of a haunting mystery, and more of a comforting nook. All the way in the back, there was a secluded corner with two scarlet loveseats, a small table, a mountain of books, and a myriad floating candles above the heads of two students. 

“What’s that thing with the curl at the end? It’s some gibberish name.” 

Remus Lupin was positively exhausted. He had lost track of time hours ago, right around the time he’d forgotten what they were studying for. He imagined it was somewhere around 3 in the morning, long since curfew. That meant there was less than… some amount of hours before the exam. Right! Ancient Runes, that’s what they were studying. 

“Er… it’s called a-”

Hanna Newton was fighting to find the word, looping her index finger in a curl, as if signing the rune they were trying to name. She knew it, she knew it, if only her brain were awake enough to remember. She had to know it, the exam was only hours away, and worth a significant part of their final grade. What was it… She adjusted her glasses, hoping that seeing straight would help her think straight.

“It’s like a loop, I- I know it… it means four,”

“F-... Fwour?” 

Remus felt delirious, slurring his words in an attempt to find the name. Four… Fwour? Floop? He lowered his heads into his hands, letting his long fingers run through his hair for the hundredth time that night. 

“If I get it, I’m done. I can’t take anymore. Runes, floops, whatever,” he mumbled.

Floop. That sounded right, or almost right. Hanna sighed, shutting her eyes tight. Her mind was slipping, but she could picture the rune in her mind. Floop. No. Fwour. No.

“Fwoop,” she whispered. 

“Fwoop?”

“That’s it… Fwooper, means four,” she sighed, lazily grabbing the runes book and opening it to the back. 

She was avoiding the book, testing their memory for the exam. But now that they settled on an answer, they could check. Remus lifted his head and flopped over the armrest of the loveseat he was on, haphazardly waving his hand to beckon her over with the book. She obliged, standing and shuffling over, taking a seat on the opposite armrest. In her exhausted state, she had a harder time maintaining her balance, and it didn’t help that she was holding a book that seemingly weighed about half of her weight. 

Remus switched sides, shifting and looking into the ancient-looking ancient runes textbook. He placed his finger over the open pages, tracing the absurd little drawings until he found what they were looking for. It looked like a dark bird in a perched position, with a curled spiral underneath.

“Fwooper! That’s it!”

He was relieved more than anything. They had an answer and he could finally give in to the sleep that was gripping at him. But, his fit of relief exuded excitement, and he slammed his finger onto the book in an AH-HA fashion. 

It was good-natured, but the wrong thing to do when the girl holding the book was about the size of a bird herself. The force sent her teetering on the edge of the armrest, trying to balance herself without toppling onto her study partner. But it was too much, and Hanna’s lack of alertness made it impossible for her to compose herself.

With a rather loud thud, the ancient runes book flew out of her hands and onto the ground, while Hanna collapsed straight into Remus’s lap with a waking gasp. 

“Oh, s-sorry I jus- sorry-” Hanna sputtered, clambering to sit up. 

It seemed Remus had not noticed that 7-stones worth of girl had landed in his lap, or if he did, he didn’t seem to care. With the book not in his sight, and his question answered, he was ready to tap out. He rested his arms over top of her and let his head loll to the side sleepily. 

Though his arms were just as skinny and lanky as the rest of him, it was enough to effectively trap Hanna in his grasp. She let out a small “uh-”, but was met with the droning soporific voice of her counterpart.

“Goodnight.”

“W-what?”

“I give up, and I can’t stay up all night.” 

She sighed, turning to look at his face. The candlelight barely illuminated him, but cast a pinkish glow across the jagged scars on his cheeks and neck. He was already half-asleep, his eyes closed calmly and his breath steady. His light brown hair was tousled from running his hands through it. He looked placid and soft. Hanna felt her own brown eyes fall, taking in every detail of his dimly lit figure. 

But it was wrong, all wrong. She shouldn’t have been right there, in his warm sweatered arms. She shouldn’t have been looking at him the way she was, groggy and full of yearning. She should not have been thinking about what she was thinking, and she certainly should not have done what she thought about. But the warm shadows of sleep were reaching for her, bringing her down. And Remus was too, with the dead weight of his arms pushing her closer to him. So, despite every last bit of reason screaming at her to resist, Hanna gave up her resistance. 

She allowed her head to fall into his chest, her black framed glasses sliding down her freckled nose. Her arms came to rest on top of his, and she exhaled a deep breath.

How could something be so completely wrong, and yet feel so absolutely right? 

It felt like only a matter of moments before her eyes fell closed and her breathing fell in rhythm with his. With her head to his maroon sweater, she could faintly hear the soft beat of his heart, beating steadily like a soft metronome. Constant and reassuring, just the way Hanna loved it. 

She loved it. She loved the feeling of being close to him. She loved the warmth radiating off of him, like a welcoming fire on a cold night. She loved… everything, really. She loved him... The thoughts floated through her mind, disembodied from one another, with moments of blankness in between as she slipped out of consciousness. The reminder of her feelings were the last thing she remembered before she fell asleep in Remus Lupin’s lap....

--

There was that feeling of serenity that was common to the Hogwarts library, when the sun spilled through the windows and illuminated everything in a glowing haze. It was early in the morning, a time when only the most dedicated or desperate students were in the library. And of course there were the two in the corner, still curled up together on the velvet loveseat. Dedicated to their studies, but desperate for sleep.

The floating candles still cast a small glow on the two, but the morning rays did more to wake them up. It was Remus who awoke first, blinking and yawning as he came to recognize his surroundings. He never made it to the common room last night. He had fallen asleep studying with Hanna. And Hanna was… asleep, right there with him.

Now it was his turn to take in the sight. She was curled up against him, as if she were seeking protection. Her head was tucked forward against his chest, her chestnut brown hair falling into her eyes. Her glasses were askew, and had made a little red indent on the bridge of her nose. She looked peaceful, unbothered by the woes of everyday life, or the anxiety that seemed to hound the poor girl at every waking moment. But in a non-waking moment, she could escape. It made Remus’s lips curl up slightly, smiling at her. He didn’t know what had happened exactly that led to them at that moment, but whatever it was, it must have been nice. And the moment itself, right then, was endearing. 

“Hanna,” Remus whispered softly, bringing his face closer to hers. He slipped his arms around her, almost cradling her small frame in his lap. He whispered her name a couple more times before her cocoa brown eyes fluttered open wearily and drifted to find the source of the voice.

Remus. It was Remus, and she was right there in his lap. Oh no… She’d hardly woken up, hardly had time to process, and she was already blushing a furious red color, squirming to look away. She shouldn’t have done that, she shouldn’t have given in. Now, she’d have to face him.

“S-sorry, I-” she stammered, her voice still a weary whisper, though growing more frantic by the moment. But she was met with a surprise, one that took her aback, quite literally.

Remus’s arms wrapped around her, now completely cradling her frame. He held her close, smiling sleepily at her. 

“Slept well, I hope,” he said, cutting off her sentence and finishing it for her. Whatever was flying around her mind was not the same thing in his, he knew that. Whatever fear was already gnawing away at her was unwarranted. Did she think he didn’t enjoy this? By god, it was physical affection! And from someone he liked! 

“Well, y-yes,” Hanna admitted bashfully, her furiously red cheeks somehow growing even more red. This couldn’t be happening. He was smiling at her, holding her close, as if nothing was wrong. Was nothing actually wrong? 

“Good. Breakfast then? We’ve got an exam to ace,” he said, scooping her up and standing. He placed her down and stretched, then bent down to grab his things. Hanna did the same, stretching her small frame out and grabbing her backpack and textbook, which was still open on the ground where it dropped.

Together, they looked at one another, and Hanna spoke up, a renewed sense of happiness in her soft voice. “Let’s do it.”