#There is a reason it's an instinct in us and many other creatures

[anjelicawrites]

Paring: Armand x reader

Synopsis: you're sitting in a pub, you start drawing the mysterious stranger sitting not far away from you. When he discovers you, you don’t realize you’ve picked the attention of a dangerous creature.

Warnings: reference to past injury, self doubt, allusion to past trauma.

A/N: reader is AFAB. They/them pronouns used.

The wind is howling outside the thick windows of the pub, dark clouds promising heavy rain and violent waves against the jagged coast not too far from the narrow road where the pub is built. The fire is roaring in the huge hearth, shadowed by too many people huddling there to nurse their drinks; the lights are dim against the old wooden panels, giving the overcrowded room a homely air.

You beer sits next to the small case full of your pencils as you draw in the dim lights of the overcrowded room.

Your head sits lightly on your free hand as the other rushes to finish the quick sketch you’re working on, before your, unintentional, muse decides to leave; you’re hoping the promise of heavy rain will convince the man to stay a little longer. Who knows if he will or he will try his luck, now that the wind has picked up even more violently.

You focus again on the black lines on the sheet of paper, finishing the outline to start working on the elegant sweater he’s wearing; you’re no expert but it looks expensive, and warm, and soft. A real nightmare to draw using only a charcoal pencil, since you are planning to add colors and you don’t want to put too many shadows that aren’t there.

“It has been a long time since anyone ever painted me. I was given the chance to pose back then, for hours, I have to admit.”

The soft voice makes you lift your head in surprise; dimly you think that there is an accent you can’t truly pinpoint, his words almost neutral in their intonation.

“It’s actually a drawing, not a painting.”

You want to drown in your own sweater at how stupid your response sounds.

“May I sit?”

You can’t see his eyes, hidden behind his wraparounds sunglasses and his expression is hard to read: you’d hate to cause a scene, not everyone appreciates being portrayed in secret.

“Please, do.”

Carefully you move your beer more on the side of the small round table, the too long sleeve of your sweater uncovering partially the black burn glove on your left hand, despite you racing to hide it again.

The man sits down, gracefully and only now you notice he has no drink with him: he must have entered the pub to escape the oncoming storm. He only lays an elegant cigarette case on the battered table, the ornate, intricate designs catch your attention from the rowdy crowd of the pub.

He is stunningly beautiful, but this you realized when you eyes had landed on him, whilst you were sipping your beer and wondering what, or who, you could sketch to pass the time; what truly draw your attention was his aura, so calm, yet it gave you the sense of someone who keeps a tight lid on their emotions, like a summer evening when you know it’s going to rain soon.

“Are you an artist?”

Again, his soft voice drags you back from your thoughts, the musicality of it makes you want to listen to him reading his grocery shop list, if that meant just hearing it.

“No, not really, it’s just a hobby.”

“You have a great deal of sketches in your book, and in your little case.”

Almost on instinct you want to grab your work and curl around it in protection; it’s the gut reaction of a second, you aren’t in that position anymore, this man will not tear your works into shreds for no reason.

“It’s something I haven’t done for a while and then I had decided to pick it up again. We can’t only work all the time, can’t we? We need to treat ourselves.” You say with a smile.

“I am acquainted with that meme.”

It surprises you that he feels the need to convey his knowledge: what a strange man.

“This is my way to treat myself.”

“By drawing unsuspecting strangers?”

There’s no heath in his words, no rage, perhaps a bit of curiosity.

“By drawing what, or who, catches my eyes.” You answer, parroting his words. “I love to hang somewhere and just let my eyes wander. I can stop sketching you, if you want, I know it’s disconcerting for some people.”

You can truly feel the weight of his gaze, still hidden by the sunglasses, even now that the pub is bathed in the dark light from outside. This stranger is not simply looking at you, you feel as if he’s taking you apart to catalog every single piece of yourself he can find, like an entomologist does with a pinned butterfly.

You know you shouldn't feel so calm under his scrutiny, that you should bid your farewell and go home, but you can’t help yourself: you want this stranger to keep looking at you like he would the pieces of a puzzle he desperately needs to put together. No matter how dangerous the consequences.

A shiver runs down the damaged nerves on your left arm, and you decide to ignore the warning.

“Why should you? You’re very talented.”

All of his nervousness now shows itself in the way his index fingers fiddles with the cigarette case, his hidden gaze fixed upon you.

“It’s a shame it’s not possible to smoke in public places such as this one anymore.”

How strange! You think. The law passed here in 2004 and he talks about it as if he had experienced how it was before. He can’t be that old!

He seems to have made his mind as his hand gently grasps the sunglasses, as if ready to remove them.

“Please, don’t!” In your haste you lift your hand, almost to stop him. “The most interesting part is to guess and imagine. Do keep wearing them.”

There’s a slew of small expressions playing on his face, all to hide his surprise and, perhaps, curiosity?

You grab the charcoal pencil in a tighter grip and go back to your work, losing yourself in the quick, almost nervous motions of your hand on the paper: you don’t know why you feel like you have to rush, to capture the fleeting essence of this nameless man, but you do.

With every ticking second you believe you’re going to lose the feeble hold you have on the ideas crowding your mind, with every stroke you fear you’re drifting far away from the first image of sadness and loneliness that lighted up in your mind, as soon as you saw him, sitting alone in the pub, under lights that enhanced his otherworldly beauty, the very thing that set him apart from all the other men present.

You only need to glance at him sparsely, to make sure to capture the texture of his hair and the folds of his sweater, the long lines of his fingers against the battered wood of the table.

Only when you’re finished, you realize you have been holding your breathe for most of the sketching and you have to force yourself to take a big gulp of air, before turning your sketchbook to him, while grabbing your beer again.

You’re learning not to be shy, when it comes to your creations, to share them with the world, to accept the criticism and the compliments; not now. Now you’re crawling out of your shell again, trying to draw while being filled with self doubts and hating every single piece you created, those past months disappearing in your mind, along with the strength you built for yourself.

His piercing gaze is now turned on your drawing, that analytical stare that cut you into layers and layers, now is doing the same to your work, and to himself: you’d do anything to know his thoughts, now that his face shows nothing.

Under the stillness a maelstrom rages. The man looking back at him from the page is a knot of everything he’s always felt and never told. Through the fast strokes of his eyes, he can see all his hardships, all he’s done and lost for centuries, pain and desperation, in a way a simple mirror would never show him: how a simple mortal like you could read him so deeply after staring at him, comes as a surprise. You’re nothing but a child, compared to him, yet you have the understanding of a much older person, as if you’ve experienced the depths of hell, only to expose it in your art, and to him.

It takes a lot of restrain for Armand to show nothing of his internal turmoil: it has been so long since someone managed to pin him down so precisely, so perfectly, he has to fight the instinct to stand up and storm out, away from you and your keen eyes; he wonders if you have done the same to other people, read them so perfectly and bluntly putting them in front of their own soul, like his fledgling had done to him. Do you know how dangerous you are? Do you have any inkling of how easily you could destroy a person’s life? Would you do that in the name of the truth?

“It’s awful, isn’t it? It’s not worth keeping.”

You reach with your good hand to slip the sketchbook away from his grasp and he stops you with elegant fingers on your wrist. His grasp is not strong, it doesn’t hurt, but holds a secret strength you can feel traveling up your arm and makes you shiver with the need for more.

“It’s beautiful.” He says, after a heartbeat, still holding you in place. “The one who painted me wasn’t as good an artist as you are, he lacked the depth you hold.”

His face is now turned back to you, his hidden, piercing stare focused on your features, analyzing you again, as if wanting to explore the hidden crevices of your soul.

“Thank you.” You stammer. “I’m glad you like it.”

Still, he says nothing, making you feel self-conscious of your own existence in this small pub on the coast.

“Would it be too forward of me to ask you to gift me this sketch?”

You’re too dazzled yourself to notice the small quiver in his soft voice.

“Oh! That’s the first time anyone has asked me that.”

Right now the people around you two don’t exist, nor is the wind beating down the old windows and stones of the building. There are no passing cars outside, nor are the waves crashing against the high cliffs, just a handful of miles from here.

“I thought I wanted to color it.”

“I think it’s perfect this way.”

He knows a finished work will incinerate him on the spot, because he will never be able not to stare at it, at himself, like Dorian Gray, to face all his centuries on this Earth.

“You’re too good to me. It’s really just a small sketch.”

“You’re selling yourself short. You have something many professional artists lack.”

When his big hand releases yours, the spell you were under breaks and all the sounds around you attack you again, adding to the fog you’re still feeling clouding your brain.

Almost through a dream, you take the sketchbook from his hand and cut the page off with the small pocket knife you keep in your pouch to sharpen some of your thicker pencils.

“It’s yours, my personal thank you for appreciating my work.”

His fingers touch yours again on the thin piece of paper and only now you notice how cold they are, despite the heath in the pub.

“Thank you.” There’s no calculation in his words, he feels real gratitude, the feeling burning brightly in the scorched desert of his soul. “I don’t even know your name.”

When you answer his question, you feel like he’s got a hold on your soul, like in the stories about the fairies.

“My name is Armand.”

A french name to someone who hasn’t a french accent, but nowadays people call their children anything, you think.

“Are you here on holiday?”

You can see the cheeky way his mouth turns when he smiles at your question.

“I thought I was simply passing through, but I am fascinated with how this area has changed, I think I am going to stay, for a while.”

You almost don’t notice the way he refers to this place as if he’s visited it years and years ago. Almost.

“Do you have somewhere to carry it? My sketch I mean. It has just started to rain.”

“Unfortunately I don’t. And I don’t wish to ruin it.”

“Here, use this!”

With much too haste, you empty the case where you carry your bigger pieces and hand it over to him.

“I can’t possibly accept it. Your other works will be destroyed by the rain.”

“I can roll them up and keep them in my bag, it’s big enough. Besides, that one is fresh, if you do the same to it, it will get ruined.”

“I still need to refund you yours.”

“There’s no need. If you’re staying, you’ll give it back whenever you can. There aren’t many meeting places here.”

The old trick always works: you are all so easy to manipulate.

“Then I shall give it back as soon is possible.”

His hands don’t tremble when they take the case from you, touching the sketch again doesn’t burn him the same way the first time did, but he knows he’s still affected, and needs to understand why.

“Regrettably, I need to go now.”

He lies, a part of him wants to stay to take your brain apart until he knows all the ways the mechanisms work there, but it’s too early for that.

“It’s raining pretty hard.”

“My car is parked nearby and your lovely sketch is safe.”

He doesn’t have a car, but he has faster means of transportation that defy such a small thing as rain.

Before you can stand up, he gracefully takes your hand to kiss the palm, ignoring the smudges of charcoal. He does it the classy way: his lips don’t touch your skin.

“Thank you again for your gift.”

“No, thank you for humoring me. I hope I’ll see you soon!”

Oh, he thinks, you have no idea how ‘soon’ can become ‘now’.

[hajihiko]

Is it Okay to cry?

i don't really know what this is referring to. Yes??

[fangswbenefits]

Comfortable

Summary: Astarion walks in on you in a rather compromising situation. Naturally, he offers to help, but then you ask him to promise you something that he was not expecting…

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Astarion's POV. Fluff. Aftercare. Oral sex. Pillow humping. Innuendo. Mentions of masturbation.

Word count: 3.3k

It's a wavering sequence of whimpers that catches Astarion's attention just as he arrives at camp after a late night hunt.

The blood on non thinking creatures seldom presents itself as a decent meal, but he finds it unfair to depend exclusively on you.

The boars in the outskirts of Baldur's Gate are delectable enough to blind his hunger for a few hours – maybe a full day, if need be.

The camp seems peaceful and quiet with everyone still catching some rest after in their respective tents, and as the pale moon glows up high in the dark blue sky, he notices the dawn isn't breaking for at least a few more hours.

Maybe he can indulge in a trance to ease his mind and body after feeding, even though it's not a dire necessity.

But it seems that the night has other plans reserved for him.

His steps are light and sure, following the crescendo of sounds that seems to come from near his tent.

He would recognise that voice anywhere.

You.

As he draws near, trying to make out the origin of said whimpers, he vaguely wonders if you're having a dream.

That is the most reasonable explanation.

But then he hears what resembles a muffled groan.

A nightmare?

Instinctively, an eyebrow quirks as he approaches your tent.

And then he freezes.

Even through the obvious failed attempt at reining yourself in, he knows exactly what he heard.

His name. Muffled and barely intelligible, but his name, nonetheless.

An amused smile tugs at his lips as it dawns on him that you are indeed pleasuring yourself. Risky and unexpected, but beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Cheeky…

He could simply entertain this, and leave it to you to reach your peak on your own.

Unfortunately for him, he has just fed.

And unfortunately for you, he has every intention of interrupting your solo endeavour.

His usual cool body now flooded with the warmth and vigour that make it extremely easy not to succumb to your sweet and melodic whimpers.

As such, he tugs at the strings that hold both flaps together, successfully drawing a surprised gasp from you.

“You scared me!” 

He finds you propped up on one elbow before rushing to sit and pulling a blanket to cover yourself, a mortified look splattered across your face.

The sight in front of him is enough for the recently drunk blood to rush downwards at record speed. 

Predictable, but such is the nature of his body when it comes to you.

Flustered and quickened breaths. His senses are so sharp from the recent blood intake, that he can hear your heartbeat drumming fast in your chest.

By now, he knows you well enough.

So well, that he's sure he has just interrupted your climax.

The confirmation comes in the form of a low growl of frustration.

He almost feels sorry for you, but what crosses his mind is the offer of a moment of pleasure so great only he can provide.

“You were close.”

It isn't a question and he doesn't expect an answer.

But you're so visibly irritated that you scowl deeply. “Yes! Yes, I was. Thank you so much for interrupting.”

“My pleasure,” he retorts, knowing fully well he's about to set off a bomb if he doesn't choose his words carefully.

You have a temper he adores to test. He's used to dancing to your tune and knows exactly which strings to pull to get you riled up in ways that often lead to very enjoyable outcomes.

His cock welcomes your huff of annoyance with a faint twitch.

“Why didn’t you just… wait…” you almost cry out in sheer frustration.

He lets out a taunting laugh. “What, and miss out on all of the fun, darling?”

A dramatic pout settles your lips and it takes all of his self-control not to wipe it off your face with a kiss in an instant.

“How many did you take this time?”

It is a glaring taunt.

And your mouth drops open.

Maybe he should have eased his way in, considering the current predicament.

But the way your body is all flustered and heated from your own touch is enough to flare desire inside him. And whenever desire begins to swell inside him, the fine line between reason and pleasure begins to blur. 

Mostly because he knows he was the one on your mind when you had your fingers deep inside you.

Your eyes widen slowly, and you clutch the blanket closer to your lower half, still hiding the proof of your arousal from his prying eyes.

You don't reply at first, your pride keeping you silent.

But Astarion doesn't mind. In fact, he enjoys your resistance at first. Makes it all the more enjoyable when you finally give in.

“How many, darling?”

You frown, averting your eyes.

So stubborn…

His cock adores it.

“How many?” his tone is firmer this time and you slowly meet his eyes again.

“... two.”

He clicks his tongue, crouching before you. “Oh, darling…” 

Two fingers are not nearly enough to provide the fullness and stretch that only his cock can. But he appreciates your effort nonetheless.

It's quite adorable and enough to have his cock hardening even more.

Your fingers still glisten in the faint candlelight and he feels the sudden urge to have them in his mouth. He never tires of tasting you in more ways than one.

“You do not need to hide from me,” he says tenderly, but still not moving an inch. He wants you to feel comfortable enough under his gaze. “You've bared yourself to me many times, love.”

Still, you don't let go of the fabric, a slash of defiance crossing your face. “You took too long.”

Ah. “Did you miss me?”

You bite your lip, face softening as you nod twice.

And you were so desperate for him that you just couldn't wait?

Gods.

His cock stirs even more against his trousers at the silent realisation.

“And I am here now,” he says, dropping to his knees, as a wicked smile turns his lips. “So, allow me.”

He reaches out with his hand to tug at the fabric, silently looking for your permission.

A shaky sigh parts your lips and he spots a shiver as he pulls the blanket that keeps you from him.

His eyes drop to the sweet spot between your legs and he almost regrets having interrupted you.

Almost.

Your clit is so swollen it deliciously peeks from between your folds, parting them gently. It throbs faintly as he catches your clenching a few times, wetness dripping out.

After a moment, he manages to tear his gaze away, ignoring the twitches of protest from his cock.

He finds your half-hooded eyes. “May I?”

You hesitate at first, nearly pressing your thighs together, but he stops you with both hands on your knees, a reassuring grip that has you slowly but surely loosen up under his touch.

“You don't have to…”

No, he doesn't.

But he wants to.

In fact, he thinks he needs to.

He rubs circles along your flushed skin, wanting your full attention on him before he speaks, “I appreciate the concern, darling, but I'm impossibly hard and you look incredibly delectable.”

It's more than enough to have you yearning for more, as a surprise gasp parts your lips.

You finally nod, spreading your legs and leaning back as you settle on your elbows.

He offers a sly grin, lowering and positioning himself right where he craves to be.

But not before he eases some of the growing tension on his lower half. The blood coursing through his body is more of an inconvenience for now, and he's sure, under different circumstances, he'd have better control over this.

Or maybe not.

Maybe you're just that good for him.

You jerk slightly when his mouth draws near your slick folds.

“Wait.”

And he does, his concentration slightly shaken as he promptly scans your face for any cause for alarm.

“Just… don't leave afterwards.”

Don't leave–

Astarion's lips are so close to your clit, he has to pull back slightly so he can have a proper look at you, his hardened cock still straining against his undergarments.

“What do you mean?” he asks, perplexed. 

There is hesitance in your eyes. “You tend to leave after… like you don't want to be here with me.”

That sounds like a whiplash to him, because it is not true at all.

Your words take him by surprise  and he immediately worries he may have said or done something that could be interpreted as mixed signals.

“Darling, I–”

But you immediately shake your head. “If you can stay after… I'd appreciate it. Only you want to, of course,” you quickly add. “It doesn't feel right otherwise…”

It isn't a request. Nor a plea.

It's just what feels right.

He's done this many times to the point of instinct. It comes natural to him to please others. The aftermath, though, is something that he's also used to forgoing. The mess, the sweat, the fluids… the unnecessary and forced talk…

But you are different, aren't you?

You are not… the others.

And after all you've been through, he feels his mind nearly snap in half as he realises just how much he's still holding back with you.

Even something as simple as just staying still felt… tainted.

Slowly, he nods. 

And slowly, your lips turn into a tender smile that he's grown to adore beyond comprehension.

“I'll stay.”

You heave a deep sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

Astarion counters the impromptu detour with unmatched expertise, lowering his head and admiring just how eager your body is for him.

Before he drags his tongue along your folds, he slithers his hand down to reach for the front of his trousers, hurriedly undoing them.

It's his turn to sigh in relief as his cock is set free.

But now he misses the friction and the carpeted floor of your tent feels too rough.

His eyes roam around in search of something – anything – more comfortable.

And then he's caught off guard by your offer.

“Maybe this will help.”

A pillow.

He chuckles deviously, appreciating your creativity in moments such as these. Promptly, he takes it in his hand and positions it under him, his cock welcoming the soft surface.

“I adore that mind of yours,” he says cheekily.

You are about to voice a reply, but no word comes out when his tongue hits your entrance. 

Immediately, your hips buck and his smile never wavers.

He knows what you crave, but he will take his time even if you're already close to the edge.

After all, he's addicted to his devotion to you even if he never utters it out loud. He prefers his actions speak for themselves. Words are treacherous and deceiving. Actions speak louder.

And so he indulges in you. He indulges you, because that is what keeps him from reaching the frayed ends of his mind. 

You're what grounds him these days.

And he will ground you with him.

As such, he drags the tip along your folds, collecting your wetness and he only stops once it finds your clit.

A soft moan escapes your lips and he hopes you have it in you to keep it down so as to not wake the others. 

He locks eyes with you one last time. “Are you ready, darling?”

Your hips roll twice, but he knows you're not ready. You never are for the pleasure he offers to you so passionately. 

Another roll and he knows you're growing impatient, so he gives your clit a quick swipe of his tongue before he latches.

He doesn't begin suckling hard right away, as he needs to ensure he can steady you for what's to come. Both arms loop around your thighs and he allows his eyes to flutter shut, losing himself in you.

It amazes him how your body responds to him, and your hips try to find a desperate rhythm as if you're riding his cock.

The pillow under him provides enough friction for him to roll his own hips, eager to match your tempo.

He could feel the wetness drenching the fabric, but he can't bring himself to care.

Your hand finds his curls and he growls against your clit as you tug gently, but evidently craving more.

And more he gives you.

He's sucking more fiercely this time, taking his time to savour the swell in between his teeth. From this angle, he can feel your wetness coating his chin. He can't directly feel it, but he just knows you're clenching desperately around nothing.

Maybe he should take it slower.

Maybe he should pry you open with two of his fingers, even though you're wet enough to take a third one.

But the unexpected friction caused by the pillow is begging to edge him beyond belief.

Is it from the blood he drank? Is he just so ridiculously aroused? Why is your clit so swollen this time? Is it from his incessant suckles? 

His mind turns into haze and he decides he's not looking for any logical answers.

He simply allows his hips to move on their own accord, matching the face with each suckle.

“Astarion… Gods…” 

You're fortunate his mouth is kept busy, or he'd hurl a snarky reply. Gods have no place here. The delicacies of carnal bliss are reserved for those who tread the earth.

He's the only one who'd ever worship you, and you'd worship him right back, because that's how it's meant to be.

Precum drips from his tip at an alarming rate. He's too hard. He's too aroused. His body is seeking to be inside yours.

But he decided against it.

No.

He wants to see you unravel for him and in front of him.

His eyes open once again and he takes in the sight of your body undulating. Skin all flushed and eyes read to drop close as you near the precipice.

As always, his latch is impeccable. He never lets go and takes pride in leaving you dripping for him.

A few droplets run down his chin and dangle from it, bestowing upon him the most enticing silent praise he could ask for.

He knows you're close when your fingers close around his curls, desperately rocking your hips against him.

A low growl of approval rumbles in his chest and he's starting to struggle to keep his pace.

He has to find a way to still his hips before you reach your climax in fear you'll drag him along with you far too soon.

And so he does.

This time, he wants to see it.

He wants to see you as you come for him.

He's mostly perplexed that you found a way to muffle your moans, your shirt rolled up and captured in between your teeth, granting him the privileged view of your heaving breasts and hardened nipples.

Momentarily, his hips threaten to buck driven by pure instinct.

But he manages to hold back.

And when he's sure you're too far gone, head tilting back and legs shaking ever so slightly, does he unlatch from your clit.

He pulls back enough to witness the first sets of contractions course through your body. 

Wetness drips from his chin, and he can't tear his gaze from the mesmerising way your entrance clenches rhythmically before him.

He's felt those contractions many times. He is well aware of just how vicious and relentless they can be around his cock, never failing to draw every last drop of his cum deep inside you.

Your muffled cries and the way your hips still momentarily, are all he needs to get lost in his own pleasure again.

He props himself high enough to place his hips at the right angle, rolling them urgently against the soft fabric of the pillow.

He's so close… so deliciously close.

Your taste lingers on his tongue and the vision of you still writhing under him holds his gaze almost painfully.

Your fingers ease on his curls and he feels the familiar tightening of his balls warning him that he's about to reach the point of no return. 

It comes and overtakes his body so violently his mind blanks for a brief moment, as his mouth drops open.

He wants to groan and growl and hiss, but no sound comes out.

The friction is so overwhelming, he can't help but to lose balance, his lips finding your swollen clit once again.

And just like before, he latches instinctively and you try to jerk away from him, definitely being hit with a sting of oversensitivity. 

He comes undone, suckling on you harder than ever before.

Ropes of cum spill from him rhythmically, his own contractions taking over. He can feel the fabric underneath him drench with each thrust, and he vaguely wonders how much of it he still has left in him.

Your clit is now the only thing grounding him as he rides out his climax and, in the far corner of his hazy mind, he's thankful that you eased into him once again, granting him the solace he is seeking so desperately.

There's only so much he can withstand as his senses are flooded with overwhelming pleasure, and he finds himself unlatching and almost slumping against your lower abdomen.

He's spent.

Utterly spent.

He thinks he hears a tender giggle, but maybe it's simply his mind playing tricks on him.

With effort, he hoists himself along your body, collapsing, the side of his face resting against your stomach.

He wants to say something, but he's rendered silent by the aftershock of his climax.

And that's when he feels your fingers again, raking along his scalp and through unruly curls. 

“Are you leaving?”

He says nothing.

Your fingertips work their magic along his skin and he's sure you can lull him into a trance if you so wished. 

You're too powerful and he's too in love with you to care.

“Astarion.”

Your voice is low and sweet and he hums in return, arm wrapped around your waist.

“Can we stay like this for a while?”

Who's he to deny you of it? Or himself?

He's sweaty and his cock drenched in cum and precum and you're a mess yourself. Hardly the epitome of romance.

Or maybe he's wrong because when you bring a soft piece of cloth to his temple and drag it along his face, he suddenly gets it.

He finally understands why you want him to stay.

Why it makes sense.

His eyes flutter shut as he basks in your tenderness and adoration. 

You hum a soft tune under your breath, cleaning him up.

Face and neck first.

“Can you shift higher?” you ask.

He realises your intentions and lifts his head to stare at you.

“You don't have to.”

All you do is offer him a smile. Your smile. “I want to. Allow me, lover.”

No one has ever taken care of him. No one has ever bothered to. Not until you. 

He silently does what you asked, too stunned to come up with a clever tease.

His eyes flutter shut in what comes close to embarrassment. For some reason, he feels more exposed than ever when you wrap the cloth around his cock.

“Tell me if it gets too much,” you say, your voice but a whisper.

He immediately shakes his head. “Not with you.”

A hiss parts his lips as you tenderly take care of him.

Astarion rests his head just above your breast and 

“Do you wish to talk?” he asks.

Your lips find their way through his damp curls, placing a kiss atop his head.

“Do you want to?”

He chuckles, feeling his cock soften in your hand – definitely a first. “I fear I'm too drained to do so.”

“Silence it is,” you say and he feels your warm breath against his skin.

Not just any silence.

Comfortable silence.

The rare type old romance books mention in passing and that many seek to no avail.

But he's found it because he's found you.

Masterlist

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt. Ghost King uses Uno Reverse Card

Ghosts are not a race of evil creatures that most people think they are. And Danny was really happy when the Infinite Realms were able to make peace treaties with most countries of the human world. Ghosts, however, are a very vindictive race. At least that’s how young Phantom explained himself to Batman afterwards.

It just so happens that a couple of hours before the event aimed at expanding intergalactic unions most of the JLeague members due to an emergency call went on a mission. Which means people who had any authority in Phantom’s eyes became unavailable for a while.

So Shazam and Phantom as the most known outside the Earth were assigned to greet the guests and most importantly to entertain the visitors until the founders of JL return.

According to Phantom, Batman, being such a good detective with a bunch of backup plans, should have known that Danny’s favorite cereal ran out this morning, that he was late for first class, and that after school he had a fight with his parents. No, seriously, aren’t so-called scientists supposed to be able to admit mistakes in their own judgment? Danny got tired of being constantly ashamed of their behavior near other ghosts. It's bad enough that his authority as a ruler is sustained only by the support of those Ancients with whom he maintains friendly relations. Average citizens still doubt that he is a is sufficient to claim the throne. He’s had enough of being accused of not being a full-fledged ghost.  He’s not ready to hear rumors that he supports his parents' racist judgments too. In short, his day sucked. And all his ghostly nature now wanted to do something nasty to his neighbors to get rid of the tension.

Alien leader stretched out a hand to Phantom and Shazam. “Your Majesty Phantom, Champion of Magic. It’s an honor to meet you. I hope I learned the proper greeting gesture of the local intelligent race.”

And with that Danny’s reserve of conscience ran out. It’s a perfect moment to feed his need to be a little shit.

“The local intelligent race?’ Danny had this extreme bewilderment on his face. “Which one do you think..? Earth was the home of the Gods and of various inhabitants of the galaxy but it was a long time ago.”

Woman is clearly confused. Great. “E-Earthers. I think they’re called that.”

“Earthlings, intelligent race? You must be mistaken.” Danny faked a giggle. “Who told you that crap?”

“Phantom, what are you doing?” Batman hissed at him from an earpiece. Danny turned the sound off with a clear conscience. “I mean, seriously, there’s not a single serious study in the science library in this galaxy or any other galaxy that says humans are intelligent. Shazam, do you think they’re..?”

For some reason, Billy immediately remembered watching a man spend his entire salary on lottery tickets last week. And of course he was careless enough to shake his head and snort. That was all Phantom needed.

“Exactly. Earthlings don’t have to be intelligent to mimic the behavior of more evolved species. Surely you are well aware that Martians and Kryptonians, and many others have visited Earth at different stages of human development. My supervisor Clockwork and I have long been observing this strange species. In many ways, their behavior resembles a mixture of instinctive reactions of specimens from the 126 sectors of the nearest SBc Galaxy and several other creatures from planets of the galaxy KV59. However, even I, as an anthropologist with extensive experience of observing human species in their natural habitat, still have to explore and discover many of their secrets.”

“I do not understand. According to the documents among the delegation that greets us there are Earthlings. I mean I don’t question the scientific evidence of a respected Chronos or you, but why then..”

“Of course you don’t! It’s really quite simple. For the purity of the clinical experiment, which we are conducting now, it is necessary that Earthlings feel themselves ostensibly full participants of the «society» consisting of members with developed intelligence.”

“So, any luck, colleague?” Shazam, who realized that Batman would now skin them anyway, decided to at least participate in this theater so that the punishment would be at least deserved.

“Well, we’ve certainly come up with some interesting preliminary insights about the adaptive capacity of the human brain in limited contact with Martians. Of course, humans do not have real emotions to be full participants in communication, but their attempts and zeal are very inspiring.”

~~~~~

Meanwhile, Fentons watching a live broadcast of what was supposed to be an interplanetary friendship encounter are beginning to realize that if trying to punish a rebellious human teenager has always been difficult for them, the attempt to control the behavior of the 14 y/o half-ghost may become a nightmare not only for them.

Jack: Honey, I think Danny’s still a little upset about our old theories about the ability of ghosts to feel or think.

Jazz, sitting between them with the face of a man resigned to the chaos around her, could not restrain the sarcasm: Really? Why would you think that?

[shirefantasies]

A Headcanon For Each Member of Thorin’s Company

Mini post between full request posts! Just felt like jotting these down hehe

✧ Balin knows a little bit of Elvish, but never lets on to that because, quite simply, it’s infinitely funnier not to. What fun would it be letting the elves shit talk him if they knew he picked up on bits of it?

✧ Dwalin’s dream wife is someone super soft and sweet. He’d die before he admits it, but he loves the idea of being the hero for his princess even if he acts like it’s an inconvenience.

✧ Some of it is natural, too, hardening from many of life’s experiences, but part of why Thorin puts on such a tough act is because he actually feels really awkward in conversations. For example, thus man dwarf cannot flirt to save his life.

✧ Oin hates being dismissed because of his hearing, but also? It can so be used to his advantage. The younger ones are squabbling over something stupid and trying to bring him i to it? Oops, sorry lads, can’t hear ya.

✧ Gloin is the proudest father. He can barely go a few minutes without busting out his locket’s picture of Gimli or telling a story about him…or both! Practically ready to throw hands with Bombur, who isn’t even competitive, on who has the coolest son.

✧ Bifur was quite the heartbreaker back in his heyday. He’s still a great flirt, but less people can understand him now so his lines often go unnoticed.

✧ Bofur quietly envies his brother’s family. He may not want fourteen kids or anything, but being around the wee ones warms his heart and he especially lives the idea of having a little girl someday if Mahal so blesses him.

✧ I of course adore the fanon/cast canon that Bombur has a huge family, but also? By dwarf standards his wife is super hot, so the others may make fun of him, but can’t deny that he scores!

✧ Dori is a way better cook than he seems like he is. The role tends to get passed to Bombur as he loves it the most, but since he grew up taking care of his brothers Dori knows his way around the kitchen!

✧ Nori loves cats. If he sees a stray in a village he offers it food and coaxes it over. The others marvel at how much the creatures love him, too, like some sort of instinctive trust.

✧ The others talk big about the ravishing women they’ve seen and he tries to keep up, but Ori doesn’t really actually get it. That’s how he realizes that, even though there isn’t such a word for it, he is demisexual. He also is more attracted to human women, they just seem softer and sweeter to him.

✧ Part of the reason Fili carries so many blades is because he enjoys crafting them. It’s a skill he learned from his uncle Thorin, standing at his side and helping before taking up the craft himself.

✧ Fili was the one who defended Kili from derision by other young dwarves when he chose to learn archery, an unusual form of combat in their culture. From then on, Kili vowed to become stronger and faster so he could defend those he loves, too.

✧ Bilbo bonds with Ori over sewing and knitting, smiling as he learns he has company because quite frankly he never thought a dwarf would know such arts, let alone join him as they teach each other.

[angelicyoongie]

The Obsidian Pearl (II)

— pairing: mermaid seokjin x (f) reader — word count: 8.1k — warnings: yandere, descriptions of death/blood/violence, explicit sexual content! dub-con touching/oral sex (f. receiving) - the smut is marked with * if you want to skip it — summary: Sailing through The Dead Man’s Passage is a death sentence and the whole crew knows it. But with the ship’s stocks dwindling fast, your captain is left with no other choice. When a haunting melody makes the crew jump ship one by one, you find yourself alone with the demon lurking in the murky red water. As the creature beckons you to jump into the icy ocean – “come to me, pet” – you find that you can’t do anything but obey.

Part 01 - 02

It's almost night when the siren, Seokjin, visits you again.

Enough time has passed for the air to turn chilly, carrying small gusts of wind that pass right through your clothes. The sunshine that warmed you only hours ago feels like it might never return, not when your surroundings are so terribly dark. You can feel the chill deep in your bones, fear nipping at your skin, clinging to you like frost on a dark winter night. 

You're huddled as deep in the cave as you can go, hugging your knees to your chest. You're exhausted, eyes as dry as sand, but you know you can't rest. Call it instinct after being on the sea for so many years – of constantly being trapped on a vessel with people who might turn on you at any second – you tend to develop a hunch of when bad things are going to happen. 

You can feel it in your body now, the low buzz that keeps you alert, reminding you that you are not safe no matter how tired you may be. 

The reason for it comes only a few minutes later, a terrible scraping sound reverberating through the silence as something heavy is pushed up on the ledge of the stone dock. You free your stiff limbs, wincing as you whip around to face the source of it. It looks to be some sort of chest, the short distance and the faint moonlight not doing much for your vision. 

As the item is pushed forward with another forceful shove, your heart jumps to your throat. You've seen this chest before –  the iron insignia on the top is all too familiar to you. It belongs, no, belonged, to your captain. You don't dare to move closer though, not when there's only one creature who could've brought it to you. 

Seokjin emerges from the water just seconds later, heaving himself up on the rock. He looks like something out of your worst nightmare, long hair covering his face as he claws his way forward. The shadows make him look all the more terrifying, the dark night blending together with his tail and hair like the perfect camouflage. If it wasn't for his strikingly pale skin, you never would've been able to make him out at all. 

He settles back against the same rock as he did before, parting his hair to expose his face. Shivers run down your spine as Seokjin's black eyes find yours through the darkness. They strike just as much fear into you as they did last night, this morning, the emptiness just another reminder of how unearthly he really is. 

It was foolish perhaps, but you had found yourself hoping that Seokjin had forgotten about you. That he had come across another ship to terrorize and another human to keep for his little experiments. You wouldn't have minded rotting away in the cave alone if it meant you never had to look upon him again. 

The siren clicks his tongue. "I bring you a gift and you dare to look disappointed? This won't do. Come closer, little human." 

You don't move, self-preservation rooting you to the ground. 

"You humans freeze to death if you get too cold, do you not? Your skin is quite thin, fragile." Seokjin delivers his point by parting his mouth more than necessary, those horrible teeth coming to view behind his plush lips. "Your brain might be too small to remember but the water I dragged you out of was ice cold, pet. The air will only grow colder the longer you wait."  

Seokjin doesn't have to use his thrall to make you understand that you have no choice in the matter. If you don't come forward willingly, he'll will either drag you there himself or let the elements do you in. The part of your brain that fears the unknown more than the creature in front of you, urges you to move.

You don't even have it in you to feel humiliated as you crawl forward, terror and cold stiff limbs making it impossible to walk. Seokjin's stare hangs over you like a heavy cloud, slowing you down even further. 

He's close, way too close, as you kneel in front of the chest. You would be able to touch his stomach, feel where his skin transforms into scales if you just stretch your arm out.

Seokjin huffs as you linger, the sound making you jump as he impatiently says, "Go on." 

You reach for the iron key that's miraculously still in the lock, your busted shoulder aching with pain as you have to twist it with more force than usual. A small stream of water is forced out, running down the side of the chest as you slowly open the lid with shaking hands. You've never held much gratitude for your captain, but for once, you can't be more thankful for his arrogance. He always left the key in the lock and never worried about a greedy crew, because, as he would always say; who in their right mind would dare to steal from a Captain? 

You release a shuddering breath as you push it open, the iron hinges voicing their displeasure with a long squeak as the contents are revealed to you. The fur-lined coat your captain bought in the East lays on top of an array of shirts and pants, the fabric hardly even damp as you pick it up. You had assumed everything to be drenched, but it seems the carpenter your captain had been boasting about was the real deal after all. 

You pull the coat into your lap, warmth immediately swaddling your legs. 

A gift, Seokjin had called it, but you doubt the siren is simply that generous. 

"How did you get this?" You quietly ask, voice trembling.

You know the stories of how the ships make it out unscathed, of how it's only the crews that go missing. But unless Seokjin can sprout legs, there's no way he was able to grab it on his own. The siren has a tail and a heavy one at that. As unearthly as he is, you doubt he's strong enough to drag himself all the way up the ship and into your captain's quarters. Never mind that he would do all of that for a chest he didn't even know existed. 

"I sank the ship," Seokjin sounds like he's rolling his eyes, although you're not too sure he's even capable of doing so. "It took you too long to wake from your slumber and I was bored. I have not explored a wooden vessel in many moons and this chest looked interesting. I was foolishly hoping for treasure, not silly human clothes." 

The siren smacks his tail against the water, irritated. 

Even though the chances of getting out of here were slim, you were holding out hope that if you only got to the other side of the mountain, you might be able to use the ship to get away. It would be near impossible to do with only one person and not the whole crew it actually needs, but when something as ludicrous as a siren exists, manning one ship by yourself doesn't sound all that far-fetched in comparison. 

You release a shuddering breath, blinking away the tears that gather. With that escape route gone, the ship now resting on the bottom of the sea with the remains of your crewmates, you are truly helpless. 

Trapped. 

You hope the darkness hides the way your face crumples. Lip wobbling, you try to focus on the chest in front of you, not wanting to give into panic with Seokjin so close. You have to save the freakout and the despair for when you're alone. It wouldn't surprise you if the siren can smell your fear. 

Leaning forward, you notice what looks like a thick scarf, the material soft enough that it might serve as a decent pillow. You're not sure if Seokjin is planning on leaving the chest or taking it with him, so this might be your only chance at grabbing items you'll need to survive. 

Just as your fingers close around the scarf, picking it up, you feel something sharp poke into your cheek. 

Your whole body goes rigid at the touch, your muscles locking up as you realize that one of Seokjin's claws is currently digging into your skin. You hold your breath as he slowly trails it down your throat, the sharp nail leaving a sting in its wake. You don't have to touch it to know that it's a deep scratch, blood rushing to the surface to clot the damage. 

"Look at me." 

You don't. You can't. You don't want to know what will happen when you do. 

"Look at me," Seokjin repeats, more force in his voice. 

It makes something in the back of your mind tickle.

You clutch the coat in your lap tighter, focusing on the soft fur between your fingers as the siren's voice grows in annoyance.

You're not sure how many times he repeats his command but between one blink and the next, you suddenly find yourself staring right at him. Your mind feels hazy like it's been stuffed with cotton and shaken around, turning everything upside down.

The hard set of Seokjin's mouth disappears as you finally meet his gaze. The siren hums under his breath as he moves his hand to your face, cupping your jaw. It's like being a spectator in your own body, your eyes refusing to waver no matter how much you want them to. You can feel the ghost of his claws on your skin, not quite digging in but present enough that you know it's a threat. That he can mess you up beyond repair if he feels like it. 

Seokjin leans in, watching you curiously as your throat bobs, lips struggling to part. 

Your tongue feels like lead, awkward and too heavy, but you use all of your willpower to open your mouth, slurring as you ask, "What did you do?" 

Seokjin breaks into a grin, a forked tongue peeking out to lick his terrible teeth. You can feel his breath wash over your face as he speaks, the stench of decay and death making your stomach roll. "You're quite the strong one, pet, I'm glad I brought you here. I think you'll prove to be very entertaining."

The siren gives you one last look, his cold fingers leaving your face as he leans back. You feel some of the thrall leave you as Seokjin turns and slowly sinks back down into the dark water, the small distance making it a little easier to think. You still can't look away from him, eyes tracking his movements even as he submerges himself completely under the surface. He's only gone for a moment before he returns, one of his pale hands coming into view above the water just before something wet splatters at your feet.

"Eat." 

Seokjin doesn't wait for an answer. The thrall snaps the moment he's gone, his strong fin carrying him away in seconds. 

You gasp, hand shooting up to feel your throat. The scratch he left behind aches and your head is beginning to throb from whatever he did to it. You tear your eyes away from the lake, glancing down at the thing that Seokjin left you with. 

The moment you manage to make out what it is, you flinch back, jerking your body away from the mangled fish at your feet. The blood pooling beneath it has already soaked the hem of your trousers, staining it dark. 

The sight disgusts you but you can't ignore the hunger gnawing at your stomach. The water in the lake felt fresh enough to drink, but it's been almost two days without any food and you're starving.

There's not a bone in your body that trusts Seokjin but you can't turn away a free meal. You have no guarantee that he'll bring you something again and you'll have no chance of escaping if you're too weak to move. 

You poke at the fish, shuddering as its half-torn body twitches. 

If only you still had your knife. At least then one of you could be shown some mercy.

You wake with a gasp, chest heaving with panicked breaths as the fog lifts. It's like someone snaps their finger right next to your ear, violently jerking you out of a slumber you weren't even aware you had fallen into. Your awareness always comes back to your first, keeping your mind awake and trapped while the rest of your body slowly shakes off the thrall you've been under.

You're near the edge of the dock again, kneeling in front of Seokjin. The siren has his head tucked against your neck, his long tongue dragging over your skin, licking off the sweat that rolls down your throat. Every part of you feels sticky and damp, the top of your head burning from the blazing sun. You have no way of knowing how long you've been sitting here but judging by the way your brain is practically mush from the prolonged exposure, it must've been a while. 

You shudder at the next flick of his tongue, nausea swirling in your stomach. The days have been passing much in the same manner, every new turn of the moon leading you closer and closer to Seokjin. This isn't the first time you've felt his cold skin against yours, you've woken up to your hands and face being touched many times, but it's never been this intimate before. Never this dangerous, with his sharp teeth so close to your delicate skin. 

Seokjin pauses, his tongue pulling away from your skin as he muses, "That lasted shorter than expected, little human."  

There's no emotion in the siren's voice, nothing that gives you an indication of whether he's happy or angry. He's simply just... observing. Treating you like the experiment he's decided you are. The siren seems fascinated with your ability to somewhat resist his thrall and he has made it his mission to test out how well your resilience works. That seems to be the only reason he's keeping you here.

You can't quite tell how long he's been at it, though. Time feels wonky when you don't know how much of it has passed. The only thing you can be certain of is that it's already been well over a week, maybe even two since Seokjin trapped you here. 

"Please stop," You whimper, voice shaking as you feel his hot breath against your throat, teeth skimming lightly over your skin. 

To your surprise, Seokjin listens. The siren pulls back, the corner of his lip curled into a displeased snarl. He looks nothing short of irked that his fun was cut short, a series of clicking noises gurgling in his throat as he gives your shoulder a shove, breaking the last of his thrall. 

You scramble backward the second your limbs feel like they're once again attached to your body, dragging yourself into the safety and shade of the cave. Nothing is stopping Seokjin from following after you, he's strong enough to pull himself into your makeshift shelter, but he seems content to stay on the edge of the stone dock - always resting against the same flat rock. 

You sprawl out on the ground, panting from the heat. The cool stone seeps slowly through your clothes, bringing your temperature down to something that feels less like you're boiling alive in your own skin. But even as the heat begins to recede, you still feel terrible. The thrall always leaves you nauseous and the shock of snapping out of it in such close proximity to a dangerous predator doesn't exactly help. You're constantly on edge, heart locked in such a rapid beat that you're worried it's shaving years off your life. 

Biting back a groan, you sit up, using your captain's chest for support. It wasn't easy moving it into the cave, not with a shoulder that ached with every push. The fear that Seokjin might take it back if you left it was the only thing that kept you going, the clothes inside were far too precious for you to take that risk. 

The siren hasn't mentioned the chest since the night he left it but it's impossible to tell if your actions bothered him. He's too good at masking his emotions, his face a blank canvas. Some nights, you do admit that you wonder if he even has them – if he can feel the same things that you do.

You're not quite sure which answer scares you the most. 

One thing you do know though, is that you need to learn more about him. You're not one to be a sitting duck and this is driving you insane. Seokjin must have some weakness, something you can use against him or that might aid you in your escape. Perhaps he hibernates in the colder months or he needs to swim for a set amount of hours for his body to function. You refuse to believe he's invincible.

"So," You swallow thickly as Seokjin turns his lifeless eyes to you, "You mentioned that you have brothers?" 

Your voice is barely audible enough to carry over to Seokjin but it sounds much too loud within the walls of the cave. You ball your hands in your lap, hoping your expression doesn't show just how terrified you are of willingly calling upon his attention. 

"Indeed, pet." 

"How many do you have?"

The siren raises one hand to the sky, inspecting his sharp claws. "Enough." 

He obviously doesn't want to answer that topic – move on.

"Y-you said something about a sea witch. How did you find them?" 

"Now why would you want to find a sea witch, little human? Unless you want to get turned into a fish, they are of no use to you." 

"Right, o-of course," You exhale, biting back the urge to throw some colourful language his way.

You try a few more, but there are only so many meaningless questions you can ask before you give up, tired of the aloof answers you get in return. It's like he knows exactly what you're trying to do. Considering Seokjin isn't willing to disclose any type of information, even knowledge that is worthless to you, it's pretty clear that you can't bait him into revealing anything useful. 

He's too smart. 

Seokjin stretches his arms above his head, showing off his lean muscles as his back pops. The crunches sound terribly loud, like he's trying to crack open every vertebra in his spine. 

He lets out a satisfied sound, head tipped back to soak up the sun as he says, "Now that I have answered all of your questions, little human, you should give me something in return. Tell me something interesting about yourself, pet, something that you deem worthy of a meal. It is horribly tiresome to fetch your food at the time." 

You suppose it was absurd to think that the siren would continue to feed you without demanding something in return. Perhaps he's already starting to tire of his little experiments.

You pick at your nails, the splintered edges uncomfortable and raw. 

There's only one story a creature like him will find interesting – one you swore you would never tell anyone that wasn't there to witness it when it happened. But, as twisted as it is, the siren might be the only one who won't judge you. 

The faded scar on your throat burns as you swallow, the phantom pain of a knife digging into your skin flaring up as you say, "I killed someone." 

Glancing up, you find Seokjin staring straight at you, his dark eyes glittering under the sun. His tail does a small wiggle, fin smacking the water in what you can only assume to be intrigue. 

"Tell me more, pet." 

"He was sick," Your hand flies to cover your mouth as your lips move without your permission. You didn't even feel the thrall this time, no push or tug to indicate that Seokjin was in your head. There's only a small tickle at the back of your brain, like you need to scratch your scalp.

Seokjin has never used the thrall on you twice in one day before now. It must be that you're already tired from earlier that he can affect you so easily, that he can slither his way back in without you even noticing he's trying.

Seokjin grins, lips stretched into a terrible smile as he says, "Go on." 

"W-we had been out on the sea for many months, five full moons, and we still had a few to go before we would reach the nearest port," You say, taking a measured breath.

"One of our cooks starting acting strangely – he was suddenly anxious and angry, exploding at any minor inconvenience. He started picking fights with the crew, causing too much tension. It was cabin fever, we all had it, but for him, it was worse. It made him sick." 

You let your hands fall to your side, fingers uselessly grasping for the knife that isn't there anymore. 

"He attacked one of the cabin boys in the kitchen, sliced two of his fingers clean off as he delivered him a freshly caught fish. He followed the poor lad up on deck when he ran, waving his knife around and screaming at anyone that tried to calm him down. The sea... she can be brutal, too big. Staring at the same unchanging horizon every day had chipped away at his sanity, left him with nothing but fear and anger at being trapped by the same water day in and day out." 

Seokjin says nothing, his black eyes staring you down as he waits for you to continue. 

"He tackled me to the ground before I even knew what was going on. When I looked him in the eyes, I knew he wasn't there anymore. There was no recognition, no emotion. Just survival. He managed to give me this while I was trying to fight him off," You lightly touch the scar on your neck, tracing it from the bottom of your jaw down to your collarbone.

"The others couldn't pull him away either, he was like a beast. I am, was, vice-captain of the ship. It was my duty to protect my crew. I couldn't let him hurt anyone else," Your voice falters as you stare at the monster in front of you, at the creature you couldn't protect your crew from. The cook was a weak mouse in comparison. 

"So, I... I killed him. He wouldn't have made it even if we had locked him up, he was simply too far gone. It was more merciful to let him die." 

The siren is silent for a beat, his eyes roaming over your face before he tips his head forward and laughs. At least, that's what you think he does, the series of weird clicking noises that gurgle in his throat sounding oddly joyful despite how grating the sound is. 

"You truly are fascinating, pet. I made a good choice letting you live." 

The hand by your hip clenches, your heart beating painfully in your chest. You wish you still had your knife, that you had something you could drive into Seokjin's throat to hear him choke on his last breaths. You weren't expecting sympathy, but you also didn't think he would find your story entertaining – funny, even. He truly is terrible.

You say nothing in return, your anger making it hard to think; to feel anything but the hatred stirring in your heart.

Seokjin, seemingly pleased with what he heard and not at all bothered by your silence, does what he always does and leaves the moment he gets what he wants.

You stare at the empty spot he left, the wet imprint of his long body the only thing left behind. 

You're not sure how long you sit there, caught up in old memories and emotions you've tried to ignore for so long, but the sun has started its descent by the time the siren makes his presence known again. 

This time, you watch as Seokjin leaves you not one, but five fish, all half mangled and twitching as the life drains out of them. He flings a few pieces of driftwood up on the dock, staring at your curled-up form for a minute before he swims away. 

It's only when your stomach starts to rumble that you force yourself to rise to your feet, walking slowly over to the haul the siren brought you. The wood is wet and soggy, but a few days out in the sun should hopefully dry it enough that it might be used to start a fire. 

You let out a humorless chuckle as you drag your hands across your face. You truly are little more than a mutt, waiting for your master to reward you when you do something he finds amusing. How embarrassing. How weak. 

No matter how rabid you feel, you know that biting the hand that feeds you will do you no good here. If you want to survive, to live, perhaps it's time to roll over and accept your fate. 

You're not sure if you're getting better at resisting the thrall or if Seokjin just isn't bothering to use it at full force anymore, but you no longer blackout when he comes to visit you. It feels like you're in a dream, vision spotty as you watch yourself move forward on unsteady feet, falling right into Seokjin's waiting arms. The siren holds you close to his chest, arms squeezing you so hard the pain registers even through the haze. 

Weeks have passed since the day you told Seokjin your story, since you slowly began to surrender to your situation. The siren still follows the same routine but he seems to have sensed your compliance – your defeat. Your mind is still blocked off, barred from taking control of your body, but now you're able to feel everything that was only a dull memory before. Perhaps the darkness, the blissful ignorance, was a small mercy compared to this. 

Seokjin lets out a guttural sound as he pushes his face into your neck, his sharp claws slicing through your shirt. His tongue drags over your skin with a desperation you haven't felt before, teeth nicking your skin.

As terrible as it is, you've grown used to Seokjin's touches, his presence. On lonely nights, you find that you almost wish to see him, just so that you don't have to face the darkness all alone.

You have come to know what to expect from Seokjin but this is new, dangerous, a far cry from the stoic and in-control creature you've been around for the past months.

The siren's hold on you is crushing, your bones aching under the strong pressure. He skims his nose along your skin, huffing as he breathes in your scent. There's a pause, a stretch of heavy silence, and then blinding pain as sharp teeth sink into your already injured shoulder.

Your vision whites out, ears ringing as the thrall suddenly snaps and everything comes rushing in at once. Your shoulder is spasming, muscles jerking with agony as Seokjin digs his teeth in deeper, an animalistic sound tearing from his throat as he draws blood. 

It hurts. Gods, it hurts.

A wounded scream rips from your throat as you attempt to claw at his face, desperate to get his teeth out of your shoulder. Seokjin growls as you deliver a deep scratch on his cheek, pulling back just a smidge to create the sound. Seeing an opening, you tangle your hand in his long hair, jerking it back with all your might. You're lucky Seokjin doesn't tear a chunk of your shoulder out as his head snaps back, surprise making his tight grip around you lessen. It's just enough for you to fight your way out of his embrace, body shaking with fear and adrenaline as you roll onto the stone. 

Grabbing your shoulder, you try to scoot backward on the slick ground, your own blood making it hard to get enough friction.

Your legs falter as Seokjin turns in your direction, the siren looking like he crawled right out of hell. His expression is crazed, hungry, blood dripping from his unhinged jaw. You can see straight down his throat from how open his mouth is, his stained teeth and black eyes creating the perfect picture of a demon. 

Seokjin hisses as you attempt to move, a horrible sound that makes every strand of hair on your body stand straight. He digs his claws into the rock in front of him, using his strong arms to drag himself forward. 

"Come here, pet," Seokjin gurgles, his voice hardly even human.

"No no, please don't," You whimper, a newfound urgency propelling you back.

Something in the siren's expression flickers at your broken pleading, like he can't decide if his hunger or entertainment is more important. The confusion, the small sliver of hope it gives you, only lasts for a few seconds before he shakes himself out of it, Seokjin's clawed hand reaching out for your ankle. 

Just as he's about to wrap his hand around your foot, your feeble kicks doing little to deter him, you both hear the distant sound of people. 

It must be another crew daring to brave the mountains, their rambunctious singing and laughter so terribly out of place. They're either obvious to the stories haunting the pass or trying to compensate for the oppressive silence they no doubt felt the moment the ship entered it. Your heart flutters with longing at the sound of humans singing and laughing, your chest constricting with a yearning you thought died weeks ago. They sound happy and lively – everything the siren is not. 

You watch as the same realization hits Seokjin, as he registers the sound of food entering his territory. The siren's jaw pops back to normal as he licks his lips, his empty eyes flickering up to the darkening sun as he says, "The ocean appears to be smiling kindly on you tonight, little human." 

Frozen to the spot, you feel your heart drop to your stomach as the siren twists around and dives back into the water with an urgency you haven't seen from him before.

The moment he's out of sight you let out an ugly sob, hope draining out of you alongside the blood that runs down your arm. You tear at the sliced fabric that's barely holding on to your body, wrapping it around your wound with shaking fingers. It's a poor excuse for a bandage, the material soaked through in seconds, but you still tighten it as much as you can, hoping it'll be enough to stop the bleeding. Only left with your undershirt, you can feel the shivers begin to set in, your adrenaline crashing. 

You had given up hope on being rescued a long time ago but to have it this close, just on the other side of the mountain, is torture. You can't even alert the unsuspecting crew of what's coming, of the deadly creature that's lurking below their ship. 

Scream, scare them off.

Just as the futile thought strikes you, you hear it – him. The gentle hums that cause a hush to fall over the ship.

You cover your ears, not wanting to hear what comes next. You don't know if Seokjin's thrall can still affect you here but you'd rather not take the chance and risk waking up at the bottom of the lake. Closing your eyes, you try to pretend that none of this is real, that all of this is just a terrible, terrible dream.

You let out a weak sob as the first scream pierces the air. Their terrified yells echo between the mountains as they're forced to jump one by one, their final moments brutal and panicked. There's no gentleness in Seokjin's song this time, only urgency as he compels them to their deaths. 

He was starving.

For some unfathomable reason, the siren must have been starving himself to the point of breaking, trying to withhold from killing you. It all adds up to why he was acting so out of character over the past few days, his behavior more erratic than normal. He had been trying to fight off the urge to eat you. 

If the ship hadn't arrived when it did, if it had only been one second too late, you would've been dead by now. 

You curl up into a small ball, body cold and numb to the pain as your shield your ears, wrapping your arms securely around your head. "Thank you," You whisper to the faint moon, guilt twisting your stomach into knots. 

Tears drip down your face as the screams continue to reverberate into the night, choked apologies passing through your lips until you feel them going slack. You don't fight the darkness that pulls you under, your soul begging for rest, for a place the screams of Seokjin's massacre can't reach you. 

You jolt as a cold hand wraps around your shin. 

Eyes flying open, you manage to push yourself up on your elbows before your shoulder gives out, the movement sending a sharp pain all the way down to your fingers. You grit your teeth, breathing through your nose to steady yourself as you glance up at Seokjin.

The siren wraps his hand tighter around your leg, using it for leverage as he drags himself up on the rock. You were close to the mouth of the cave when you passed out but now you're almost at the edge of the dock, feet only a few steps away from the still water below. Seokjin's thrall must've been too strong, urging you to come closer even when you were unconscious. 

Perhaps you have truly lost your mind or maybe the night is playing tricks on you, but for once, there's actual emotion on Seokjin's face. The siren grins, his black eyes ablaze with something as he pushes forward. He tugs your legs apart, fitting his body between them. His hands rest on either side of your ribcage, his face so close that you can practically taste the stench of death that washes over your lips with every breath. The water cascading from his skin makes you shiver as it hits your own, the droplets soaking through your undershirt in seconds. 

"Pet," Seokjin purrs, inching his face closer.

You hold your breath, limbs frozen with fear, as the small distance between you disappears. 

You can only watch and you're horrified to find that the first thought that strikes you is how mesmerizing the siren looks. The moon shines brightly behind him, giving the scales climbing up his stomach and the small patches on his arms an iridescent shine. It's no wonder sirens have been described as beautiful creatures, not with how Seokjin's pale skin is illuminated, practically glowing, under the night sky.

You see his head tilt down, his dark eyes roaming over your bandaged shoulder. The wound only seems to ache more under the pressure of his gaze.

"Good work, little human," Seokjin comments, pleased, "You patched yourself up just to stay with me longer. I am not cruel, I will reward you for this." 

What a good dog you are, licking your wounds for your master just so that he can tear them open again.

Your legs twitch on each side of Seokjin's body, resisting the urge to kick at his tail. Angering him will do you no good and you're ashamed to admit that the spark of excitement in his features leaves you curious – makes you want to know just what a siren considers a reward. 

Seokjin ducks his head lower, pressing his nose right against your throat. The sharp bite you're expecting never comes – instead, there's only the soft press of his lips roaming over your skin, hurried kisses scattered across your neck. He lowers himself to get more access, nudging your head back as he settles more of his weight on your body. It leaves your hips completely immobile, your arms trembling with the effort it takes to keep yourself raised off the ground. 

You hold your breath, scared to move as much as a muscle. 

The siren's tongue flicks out to taste your skin with every kiss, leaving a trail of saliva covering your neck. The cold air only heightens the contrast between his warm lips and the slick skin he leaves behind. You're caught off guard when he suddenly attaches his lips to the underside of your jaw and sucks, pulling the sensitive skin there between his lips.

You let out a startled gasp at the sensation, small shudders traveling down your spine as your reaction only seems to spur Seokjin on, the siren quickly finding more spots to mark up. 

Your whimper, surprised, as he uses a claw to slice through the bottom of your undershirt, exposing your waist and stomach. His cold hand finds the exposed area immediately, rubbing and squeezing at your skin as he drags his hand up and down your waist. He somehow manages to keep his claws off your skin, only digging them in faintly whenever you grow too quiet. He seems to enjoy the involuntary sounds you make, his actions only growing more and more frenzied as he tries to pull more of them from you. 

"Touch me," Seokjin growls against your throat, his voice half strangled as he pushes you down to lie flat on the ground.

Mindful of your aching shoulder, you raise a tentative, shaking hand up towards his arm, grasping his toned bicep. You can feel the power thrumming under his skin, how strong he is from that simple touch alone.

Seokjin is quiet as you slowly glide your fingers up his arm and over his shoulder, feeling how the texture keeps switching between soft skin and hard scales whenever you encounter a small gathering of them. It's a curious feeling, one your brain struggles to fully comprehend.

You continue your touch down his back, careful to steer clear of the fin that protrudes along his spine. He lets out a harsh breath, low clicks gurgling in his throat as you let your hand fall away, not daring to go further than his waist.

You glance up as he pulls back, breath stuttering in your chest as you take in how wild he looks. Seokjin's expression is hungry, but it's nothing like the empty, ravenous stare you saw before he tried to take a chunk out of your shoulder. No, this one is pure desire – lust. 

Your stomach flips with disgust as you realize that the hunt, that killing that innocent crew, actually turned him on. 

Seokjin pushes himself back, emerging his lower body in the lake before he wraps his arms around your knees and pulls. You slide across the rock, thighs meeting Seokjin's torso as your legs fall over the edge of the dock, the water hitting just above your ankles. 

You cry out from the harsh yank, pain flaring up in your shoulder as the still-open wounds are dragged across the uneven surface. The bandage does little to lessen the burn of it, your vision growing spotty as you struggle to breathe. 

"You humans are so weak," Seokjin scoffs, his voice swimming in your ears. *

The siren tugs at your trousers, annoyed at how the fabric doesn't budge. He uses his claws, meeting no resistance as he slices right through them the moment it takes a little too long to get them off.

You jerk as Seokjin settles his hands on your exposed thighs, mapping out your skin.

Your vision begins to clear as you get your breathing under control, heat creeping up the back of your neck as you register just what the siren is looking at. Seokjin's torso is blocking you from closing your legs, exposing everything to him. 

His dark eyes never waver from your cunt, in fact, you're not so sure he even blinks as he watches you squirm. 

"Be still, pet," Seokjin says, the points of his claws pricking into your delicate flesh to get his warning across. He squeezes your thighs, his forked tongue swiping across his lips, "I was right. Your thighs do look delectable." 

Horrified, you feel your hole pulse with arousal at Seokjin's words, wetness slicking up your folds. 

The siren makes a curious sound at the sight, one hand drifting closer to your cunt as he lowers his head. You tense up, muscles locked tight, as Seokjin runs his finger over your clit. A choked moan makes it past your lips as he begins to rub at it, eyes bright as he lightly pinches your nub.

Receiving pleasure from the creature that has trapped and hurt you is the last thing that you want, but it's been so long since you've been intimate with someone like this. Your body gives in easier than your mind, eager to feel any touch as long as it'll make you feel good.

It's a reward, just take it. Who knows if you'll ever get to feel like this again.

"You're so wet, little human," Seokjin comments as he drags a finger up and down your folds, spreading your arousal around. 

"You can't– no, no claws," You hurriedly say as you feel his knuckle graze your hole, stopping Seokjin in his tracks. "We-we're fragile, remember?" 

The siren purses his lips, contemplating the information as he moves his hand back to your thigh. Arms curl under your knees before you can even breathe a sigh of relief, the air being punched right out of you as Seokjin dips his head down to lick a stripe between your folds. 

"Oh Gods," You gasp, fingers clawing at the stone below you as the siren's forked tongue flicks over your clit with every pass, making your clenching hole gush with slickness.

You let out a broken moan as Seokjin prods his tongue at your entrance, black eyes flickering up to meet yours just as he pushes it inside. 

Seokjin has lowered his body even more into the water, leaving him at the perfect height to feast on your cunt. His tongue worms his way into your hole, the wet muscle reaching deeper than what should be possible. Your veins feel like they're on fire, your body burning up with arousal as Seokjin licks and sucks at your folds, nose bumping against your clit. You can't stop yourself from grinding against his face, hips twitching with the little leeway he gives you. 

"Seok-seokjin," Your hand flies down to his head at a particularly harsh suck, his teeth skimming over your delicate heat. The mixture of fear and pleasure leaves you lightheaded, your heart beating erratically in your chest. 

The siren growls as your fingers curl into his long hair, the sound vibrating against your skin as you tug at his locks. You can't tell if you're trying to pull him away or press him closer, but either way, Seokjin doesn't listen. 

You keen as his movements only seem to grow more frenzied, the siren drunk on your taste as he continues to lap up your slick. His grip around your legs is bruising, locking you in place to let him use you as he pleases. You continue to whimper out his name, your little cries only spurring him on further.

The white-hot pleasure in your stomach only continues to build the longer Seokjin eats you out, the pleasure mounting so quickly you don't know what to do with yourself. 

You don't want this but you also do – and those conflicting emotions only intensify every suck and lick from Seokjin.

"Good pet," The siren groans, his warm breath fanning across your folds. 

You finally erupt as he attaches his lips to your clit and sucks, your orgasm ripping through you so violently you almost feel like you're going to pass out. Your back bows off the ground as you let out a loud moan, your knuckles white from the tight grip you have on Seokjin's hair. You ride out the waves of pleasure that seem to hit you over and over, the siren lapping up your essence like a starving man – like he's never tasted anything as good before.

Your legs are trembling with oversensitivity once you come back to yourself, your cunt clenching helplessly around Seokjin's tongue as he keeps trying to lick up more of your slick. You hastily remove your fingers from his hair, weakly pushing at his head to make him back away. 

"Stop, it's too much," You whimper.

Seokjin makes a displeased sound in the back of his throat, tongue dragging through your folds one last time before he pulls back. There's something in the siren's gaze that looks even more predatory than it's ever done before, his plush lips slick with your wetness. *

"You did well, little human. It was about time you gave yourself to me," Seokjin says as he brings his hands to your hips, the corner of his mouth quirked. 

"What do you mean?" You say, voice faltering, "You told me to touch you, you made me touch you – made me enjoy this." 

The siren tsks, shaking his head as he pushes you down on the stone dock, fingers gliding over your stomach. "Did you feel me using my thrall, little human? You touched me because you wanted to, you gave in because you wanted to feel good. This was all you, pet." 

"No, that's not..." You trail off, biting the inside of your cheek. You didn't feel the ticklish sensation that usually comes with Seokjin's thrall when he asked you to touch him. You don't feel sick now, not like you always do whenever you snap out of it.

You... You did all of this on your own volition. 

Seokjin sees as the realization dawns on your face, the blooming devastation making his fin hit the surface with excitement. 

"That's right," He murmurs silkily, "Accept the fate that the sea has bestowed on you, pet. You were made to be my little plaything." 

You feel Seokjin move away as you stare mindlessly up at the twinkling stars. You pull your aching legs together the moment he's gone, bringing them up to your chest. Without the siren's body shielding you from the frigid night air, you just feel cold. So awfully cold. 

Just accept your fate.

You hear the water move as the siren ducks under the surface. The lake ripples as he swims, only a few flaps of his tail bringing him up on the side of the dock, where your head has turned. His dark eyes burn holes into your face as he drops something on the stone in front of you, the metal clinking as it bounces off the surface. 

Heart stuttering in your chest, you reach out and snatch up your old knife, your shoulder burning as you put pressure on it. Your eyes grow wet as you turn it around in your hand, the familiar weight and polished grain of the wooden handle the closest thing you have to anything that feels like home.

You thought you had lost your knife forever when you jumped off the ship, that it was sacrificed to the sea together with your crew and vessel.

The siren's face is unreadable as you glance up at him, expression flat as always. One thing is for sure though – there's no part of Seokjin that views you as a threat, that's concerned you'll use your knife against him. 

It breaks your heart to know that he's right. Even if you kill him, you have no way to get out of here.

Seokjin's pale hand emerges from the water to place something delicately on the edge of the dock. You let out a small gasp as he removes his fingers, the round sphere beautiful as it reflects the stars shining above. It looks to be a massive pearl made out of obsidian, the surface glossy and smooth. 

You lay your knife down, meeting Seokjin's burning stare as you bring your trembling fingers forward to pick it up. The pearl is heavy in your palm, your hand barely even managing to close around the size of it.

The moment you pick it up, Seokjin lets out a pleased chitter, his mouth showing off that terrible smile again as he says, "You've proven to be a fascinating pet, I don't think I'll tire of you just yet."

"You're mine now, little human." 

a/n: i really hope you enjoyed the final chapter of TOP! writing mer!seokjin was a nice break from my usual stories and it was fun to revisit the tcs-universe. i would love to hear what you think about the chapter – comments and reblogs make my day!! 🥺💖

if you enjoyed the story and would like to support me, you can do so here! 💖

[ctheathy]

Yandere Changelings w/ human!Darling

The Changelings x Reader

Yandere Headcanons

Author's note: Gotta love these big buggo babies

reformed Changelings < unreformed Changelings

The Changelings/Reader [Platonic+Romantic-ish?]

[Gender-neutral Darling|Female Darling|Male Darling]

Potential ⚠️TWs⚠️ :

The Reader is quite humble • Abduction • Jealousy between changelings • Stalking • Invasion of privacy • Co-dependency • Aggression • Use of adhesive/the green goo • Violence • Possessiveness • Overprotective behaviour • Predatory behaviour • Love feeding • Overfeeding/“Overdosing” on love • Heart failure • Corpses of changelings mentioned

Changelings have certainly never had a very positive reputation around Equestria. The species of bug-like creatures mainly known to have ruthless mannerisms that only acts on instinct. Especially when considering the changelings eat love and love alone to keep them from starving. As you can see... These creatures, too, need to feed. And so steal the love hidden within ponies and other living entities for themselves with brute force. And this tiny human here... has love, and a lot of it.

But despite being an aggressive species, they are also known to be rather curious towards creatures they've never seen or heard of before. Which is why being a human is really just a saving grace for you in this scenario. Cause instead of pouncing immediately purely from starving impulse, they know they'd need information to report back to the Queen first. And since this is the first human the changelings have ever met, their natural reaction to encountering a new species is to learn more about it instead of feeding off of it, atleast not before they got all the answers they'd be satisfied with. Considering you are the only source of love and affection around.

The first changelings that have noticed your presence may start seeing you as a tasty morsel. if love is like meat for them, then they're being deprived of it, and then the one creature comes along that's a walking talking buffet of love. They'd observe your actions and behaviours from a safe distance for a little while, taking note of aggression signs or being a potential threat to the hive. But in truth... you weren't. You were more of a lover than a fighter, which gave the changelings the signal to not waste any other opportunity to abduct you into the hive for some answers.

And that's... when something sparked.

Being calm and sedate in your position would usually cease a changelings’ natural instinct to hunt and would often cause in less aggression and forceful measurements. But even if they did try feeding from your love, that would be similar to essentially trying to suck from a dry well, because the transporting process from the human realm to Equestria drained you of many strong emotions to begin with, and it takes a lot more time for your entire alternation from universe to universe to take full effect. And the changelings wouldn't budge from their stubbornness until you reached out to one of them... Brushing a gentle hand over its malnourished frame.

The love that you'd contain would be a tad bit ‘different’ from normal love they'd consume, mainly due to the fact that they never had to actually take it with force. You gave it to them willingly, making the love inserted into them a lot stronger and effective than if they were to steal it. Which results in giving their bodies an intense emotional ‘shock’ as you basically feed them little by little... The shock would still feel good to them, like it would make them feel warm and light headed, but their heart would begin beating rapidly by the shot of immense adrenaline they just got.

The reason why changelings need love and affection in the first place was because they need it for their survival. The value feeds them. As they learn you're capable of feeling and giving love, they would want to keep you around permanently to feed. However, in extreme cases it might lead to a changeling becoming dependent upon one person's love. And their survival might be based on that person's love and affection. and what happens when that person's love and affection starts to falter? There is such a darker side to something so innocent as eating some consensual love.

Which could go either two ways...

Plan A being a bit more complicated. Since they ended up taking a ‘sample’ of you to basically extract the hormones and emotions of love, you had proven yourself to be more productive than all of the ponies they've held captive combined. Feeling more satisfied with the mere sip of love you've happily handed out to them than with any usual prey they had ripped the love from. But the Queen desires love too, because it is essential for their race. And because the hive is almost completely devoid of any love in the first place. You could become a sample for the Queen... Just keeping you there and farm you for love.

But there's also a considerable chance the changelings who captured you would scrap plan A and would instead focus on a plan B... Keep you a secret from Queen Chrysalis and prevent you from being cocooned at all costs, but only under the condition if you keep blindly feeding them with your lovey-dovey personality. Changelings tend to function with a very strict hive mentality... conclusions are set by the swarm's majority of drones’ standpoint. They all have a strong tendency to fall for group decision-making, but they're also quick to swap their beliefs if it seems like the right choice for the best of the colony. So it likely wouldn't even take long for the entire swarm to come to an agreement to keep you secured under high protection and warding.

Due to being a good source, you would give them more positive energy than any other creature who would falter in their fright after being captured... which would make you a rather popular target for the swarm of drones. To a point where the entire hive would start to view you as the "heart of the colony" of sorts. Because a changelings emotions are based on their diet. And the more love they receive, the more addicted and obsessed they'll become with it. So they would all be head over heels at some point, bordering on complete worship ...viewing you as an object of their affection and admiration. And getting even more physically violent to defend and protect you from what they consider a threat to their food source.

They might be feeding off of the love you give them and emotional positivity for now. But if they keep feeding and feeding, eventually they are probably going to want something else than just your emotions, which isn't good... But at the end of it all, they will want to protect you. But their methods might be a bit morally questionable. They have been looking for a more ‘sustaining’ source of love their entire lives. And from what we know... love only grows stronger.

So what happens when a creature becomes utterly emotionally dependant on someone?

What if... they begin to get obsessive?

Instead deciding to ensure no one else gets to have you?

Signs of attacks outside of the hive would become more apparent as time went on, a variety of breeds beginning to disappear aside with half dead creatures covered in adhesive emerging from their hideout as no entity even dares to get close to the shapeshifters. Some changelings would begin arguing with eachother over the delightful taste of your love. But knowing how naturally greedy and hostile they can get, these would convert to physical violence sooner or later, causing a bunch of internal conflict in the colony. A bunch of love starved changelings just riskily fighting over a single human.

It would get so bad, in fact, that there's possibly not even second you'll spend in the hive without a changeling being nearby, just ... watching you. With or without you knowing, there to strike and pull you back in at a moments notice if your demeanor gets too close to flight response. The changeling that you first bonded with would feel remorse about doing it, but the rest of them won't really care much as long as they can keep you in their grasp. Though you would still be allowed to travel closely outside of the hive, they'll keep their little eyes on you anyway...

You'd have this love that's a bit diluted, but even with just having a weaker type of love to feed off of, they'd have to feed for a longer time and drain their energy in order to get it. Which in terms causes in them taking more than they can physically handle. You aren't necessarily a dry well, but rather more of a dripping faucet while they are all dying of thirst. So they could still eat from your given love for a while, but if they try to go all out, there could be horrific consequences...

Because each of them are essentially trying to take enough to survive, their individual feeding sessions can become more aggressive. They don't want to kill you, nor do they understand how strong of a heart you have. So they don't see that they need to be gentle. Because in their eyes, you're considered weaker as a mortal. And your emotions, not being very strong, make their hearts race and they aren't feeding slowly and cautiously enough to keep the heart beating at its normal pace. You're basically a complete reverse card on them. To the point of them becoming so infatuated with you, that they literally forget what they are doing, and basically, accidentally kill themselves with a massive case of overdosing love.

The more of your love they take, the more they will like you. And the more they like you, the more they would try to suck it out. And the more they try to suck it out, the more it would turn into a "want" instead of something more natural. And then, that's when some would begin to die from overfeeding. The emotional shock and overdosing on love being much more overwhelming than the changeling's bodies are capable of handling. And of course, you wouldn't really understand why they were all suddenly lifelessly scattered around you...

It would be quite a challenge for many changelings to have the self control to prevent that fate. I doubt the majority of them would even understand the concept of death enough to avoid it even when their heart rate was going at unsafe speeds. The situation would honestly be safe for the changelings that have enough self-control to hold themselves back, but those who don't would become history real quick... Especially as changelings mainly seem to cocoon their prey. You may have more love to give when you're out in the open, but perhaps you even walking freely might just be enough to push many changelings over the edge.

Though this would also highly depend on the distinct personality of each changeling. Those who were more reasonable would try to just suckle in love. Then we have those who would become a bit feral and aggressive trying to tear the love out of you. Making it like a really twisted irony that they want love, but by trying to obtain love, in this way, they could essentially doom themselves. The ones who are more in control and more disciplined may survive. But either the greedier or younger, more immature changelings might get too excited and just want more and more. Which leads into them destroying their bodies via the very thing they wanted. The ones that do manage to control themselves will remain very interested in you however. But even if their fair sense of attachment and perhaps even bond towards you won't fade...

This is nothing more and nothing less than a parasitic relationship

[rainbowolfe]

Why Aym and Baal?

They were, according to Shamura, supposed to be Narinder's replacement family/companions. Narinder never really got that memo, but like, what did Shamura expect? Relationships don't work that way. You can't just throw two strangers at someone and have them fill the void of a millennia-long relationship.

But the question of the hour is, why Aym and Baal? I don't think it's because they're cats.

It's implied Narinder had his own family (made up of cats or whatever he is) and chose the Bishops, a goofy assortment of non-mammals over those blood relations. So he's not exactly inclined towards members of his own species. So that doesn't feel like the reason why Shamura chose them. And it doesn't feel like the reason Narinder kept them.

I noticed that this photo from Jalala's journal had to have been of pre-servitude Aym and Baal, cause they're much younger. Baal's hair is shorter, they're both just wearing basic tunics instead of their signature robes, and Forneus isn't wearing her hat. So Aym's always looked a bit scuffed, and it wasn't the result of his time spent with TOWW in the Realm Beyond.

Which means Shamura saw him and went "wow that's literally Kallamar". Scar over one eye? Check. Messed up ears? Check. It would also loosely confirm that the boys were sent after they sealed Narinder, since Kallamar's ears wouldn't be scuffed before then.

It would be really funny if what Aym's looking at is Shamura, and this picture was taken 5 seconds before disaster.

Now, my first instinct was that Baal would be Narinder, and what Shamura hoped to recreate was Narinder's relationship with them and Kallamar. But that doesn't quite make sense. The new "family unit" already has a Narinder, so why would Shamura give him another?

Baal can't be filling Shamura's role for two reasons. One, as the head of the family, Shamura would be more likely to be Forneus (the role they are now placing Narinder in). If not Forneus, then the unseen father presumably taking this picture. Two, Shamura does not believe that Narinder loves them. That's. Kind of why they're doing all of this. So they wouldn't give him a replacement-Shamura either, unless they were feeling really really egotistical.

Which leaves us with two options.

And the correct one is Leshy. Leshy, whose core item is the red camellia. And whose symbol becomes a black heart when he's cleansed.

While we don't get to hear much from Baal, Heket's core traits are that she's a shit-talker and likes to eat. Leshy's core traits are that he's chaotic, but has an appreciation for/focus on the world around him. Smells, sights (when he could see), and sounds.

Baal is actually the politer of the two and, based on his recruitment dialogue ("So much color... so many creatures") he too is the worldly type. Also, Baal thanks Lamb for helping them. Leshy and Narinder are the only Bishops who thank Lamb in the end.

And, you know, if you take the order Shamura lists the family in into account, Leshy and Kallamar are the first and second sons respectively.

...

Of course, this can be taken one step further in another direction :3c I can't just leave Heket out of this.

Although Shamura only gave him Aym and Baal, theoretically what they saw was a four-person family unit that reflected their own... before Narinder entered the picture. I mentioned before that if Shamura isn't a reflection of Forneus, then they're a reflection of the unnamed father. (Who I suspect to be Paean)

Which means they saw Heket in Forneus.

Do you see the vision??

Cause this is a found family, age order doesn't necessarily matter to the familial hierarchy. Even if Shamura wasn't the eldest, they would still be the head (whether matriarch or patriarch) because their role is as the leader of the other three. Heket would be below Shamura, but above Kallamar and Leshy, because she serves as caretaker. She's even the one who takes charge upon Lamb's return, as the matriarch would do if something were to happen to the patriarch.

((Traditionally, while the father is seen as the protector and provider, his purpose is specifically to rule/lead the family. It is the mother whose sole purpose is to protect. Primarily the children, as their (often only) caretaker. But in traditional circles, it's commonly felt that the mother should sacrifice everything for the father as well.))

It would be particularly fitting because a lot of Heket's side of things revolves around sacrifice. How she's burdened by it, and seemingly how much she tried to do to find a better/different outcome. She's characterized as particularly family-inclined.

...

This would suggest that who Narinder valued the most in the family were Leshy and Kallamar. At least, it would suggest that's how Shamura saw it. But I'm liking this line of thought, so let's say their read is accurate.

Shamura saw that Narinder. Could also be Forneus. And Shamura loved Narinder the most, so...

Narinder and Heket's disdain for each other stems from them competing for the same role in their family: The matriarch. Shamura's second in command, and the boys' caretaker.

Not in a "raise them" type of way, at least not in Kallamar's case. But to guide and influence them. To be the one they trust and rely on. Heket has been that. And, intentionally or not, Narinder intrudes on that.

Narinder's the 'other woman' lmao

As a bonus:

Baal is aligned with his father (you get Tears of the Vengeful Father in exchange for him). Aym is aligned with his mother (ditto for Tears of the Merciful Mother).

If Aym = Kallamar; Baal = Leshy; Forneus = Heket; and The Father = Shamura

Then that dynamic is actually reflected in this Tarot Card. It pairs Kallamar with Heket, and Leshy with Shamura. :3

[linkspooky]

Sukuna's Anti-Enlightenment

Sukuna's words in this chapter practically mirror Mahito's words to Junpei from much earlier in the series.

"Do you understand? Life has no weight or particular value. Just like how water flows through the earth, life simply flows. For you, me and everyone else - it's the same. Without meaning. Without value. That's why you can do whatever you want. Live the way you want. Don't limit yourself to just being indifferent. There's no reason to live by such a restricting philosophy. If you're hungry, eat. If you hate, kill."

Both of these characters are rejecting humanity's natural instinct to look for a purpose in life and are instead subscribing to a more animalistic way of living following their basic instincts, if you're hungry eat, if you hate, kill. While the philosophy sounds simple enough there's something much more complex going on under the surface that requires digging deeper into Sukuna's mindset.

A True Curse

By having Sukuna essentially quote Mahito, the story is inviting us to compare them. A literary foil is a character whose purpose is to accentuate or draw attention to the qualities of another character. This term comes from an old technique of placing a thin metal sheet, or foil, behind a gem to make it shine. Sukuna is a character defined by how little both the other characters in story, and the audience understand him, something Yorozu comments on he's simply too powerful and isolated to be understood by the rest of humanity and so he stands alone. Which is why giving him a foil is a way to help the audience understand Sukuna without the author tipping their hand and ruining Sukuna's mystique. The question is what does Mahito highlight about Sukuna, and my answer is Sukuna is what Mahito wishes to be.... a True Curse.

Mahito is many things, but without making this entire meta about Mahito his primary goal along with the rest of the special class curses is to eradicate humanity and replace them as the true humans. They basically want to destroy what humans have created and create a world of curses in their place.

Mahito is the most human like of the curse family, he reads human books watches human movies, even spends time getting to know a few humans personally and he also rejects them the strongest because he is made up of the human fear of other humans. Mahito is the one who reflects humans the most because all the other curses are made up on natural disasters, and yet he wants to destroy everything that's human inside of him and embody a true curse instead.

Which he does in the final phase of his fight against Yuji by literally ripping off his own skin like it's a chrysallis so he can emerge in a more curse-like form. Mahito is like the frankenstein's monster of the human id, he is created by the absolute worst impulses of humanit yand therefore rejects humans implicitly.

He even argues with his fellow curses that they shouldn't act too much like humans. Whend Choso, Jogo and Mahito disagree about whether or not they should revive Sukuna, Mahito argues they've been following Kenjaku's strategy too closely and they should make a game out of it and follow their whims or desires like a curse would isntead of using strategy like Kenjaku.

Mahito's idea of a curse is a creature of the natural world that lives entirely true to its own desires and hunger, satiating it without thinking about the effects their actions have on other people. A lion doesn't stop to ponder whether or not the gazelles its grazing on have feelings. A curse rejects the human need to fight purpose in life, or find deeper meaning or reasons behind their actions and only follow their instincts.

Mahito doesn't just not think about the meaning of life, he actively rejects there being any other meaning besides living to satiate one's needs. Remember Mahito and Sukuna both laugh together at Yuji, and Yuji identifies them as true curses as well.

A scene which is called back to later on in the series shortly after Sukuna takes over Megumi's body.

In a series where even characters like Gojo and Kashimo who view other people as not human in the same way they are will have an aching loneliness and a desire to connect to others, Sukuna and Mahito both seem completely devoid of any humanity whatsoever.

Mahito however, is a baby and a newly formed curse while Sukuna is an adult that's existed for 1,000 years as the pinnacle of Jujutsu. Mahito is essentially the larval form of Sukuna in the story. Quite literally in fact, because he emerged from the chrysallis by ripping his skin off to reveal his true curse form in his final bout with Yuji. Sukuna is what Mahito wants to be when he grows up. Mahito talks the talk, but Sukuna is actually able to walk the walk.

It's a bit like how Gojo, Naoya, and Toji all sort of believe that power makes it so they exist in a different category of people, however Gojo and Toji have the ability to back that belief up with power whereas Naoya just gets his butt kicked a lot. Naoya even crosses the boundary line between human and curse in an attempt to reach the same level that Gojo and Toji were at.

There's a pattern in the series of characters pushing themselves further and further away from humanity becoming curses and rejecting human values of meaning alongside of it. Going from higher thinking like empathy, philosophy, the search for meaning to lower, more animalistic and instinct heavy thinking. Naoya even says that becoming a curse reminds him of his childhood again like he's completely regressed intellectually.

Naoya: This sort of takes me back. There are things that children can't do that are easy for adults. After you grow up, you can't even remember the time you couldn't do it. Well, this is like that.

Jogo also defines a curse as someone who's true to their feelings, unlike humans who hide behind lies and pretend to be something they're not. All of this to say I don't think Mahito and Sukuna's views are nihilistic per se. Nihilism is rejecting that there is inherent meaning to anything in life yes, but in order to reject meaning you have to question it first. Mahito and Sukuna seem to be rejecting philosophy itself, an anti-philosophy philosophy so to speak. Nietzsche considered animals to be un-historic, because they only existed in the presence and have no history. They are, themselves at every instant because they only know of the now.

“Consider the cattle, grazing as they pass you by. They do not know what is meant by yesterday or today, they leap about, eat, rest, digest, leap about again, and so from morn till night and from day to day, fettered to the moment and its pleasure or displeasure, and thus neither melancholy nor bored. [...] A human being may well ask an animal: 'Why do you not speak to me of your happiness but only stand and gaze at me?' The animal would like to answer, and say, 'The reason is I always forget what I was going to say' - but then he forgot this answer too, and stayed silent.”

Cows aren't nihilistic, they're not anything because they just exist. They just exist as individuals in an eternal moment. They just exist.

Mahito: "Emotions come from the soul. It's too simplistic to call it "heart". People overthink things they can't see. I can see the soul so for me it's nothing special. It's practically the same as the human body. It just exists."

Mahito similiarly says that the soul just exists, there's no need to overthink the meaning of it or try to classify the soul as a "heart" capable of feeling emotions because it's just there. Sukuna similiarly doesn't worry about the past or the present, all humans are just momentary distractions to him and he only lives in pursuit of finding his next meal.

They just eat to satisfy their hunger temporarily, not because they find the food delicious or for any other reason. They're just living in pursuit of their next meal. It reminds me of a passage from my favorite existentialist book series Zaregoto.

"They say food, sleep and sex are the three basic desires of makind. But why are we eating this meal right now?" "To ingest vitamins." "Yes. Without vitamins, people die. And thus eating food brings pleasure. Sleeping feels good too, and sex, well, that's obvious. Anything that you hvae to do to stay alive always comes with pleasure." [...] "Now let's imagine someone who's obsessed with eating. In other words someone who eats not simply to take in vitamins, but because he's mad for the sensation of eating itself; for the beauty in the very act. The stimulation of his taste buds. The pleasure of feeling the food pass through his mouth. The joy of mastication. The ecstasy of feeling that mushed-up gook flowing down his throat. The feeling of fullness nearly destroying his satiety center altogether. The euphoia taking over his brain. To a guy like that, vitamins or lacktherof are totally irrelevant. The means and end have switched places for him, so now his main goal is something subsidiary. Now there's your problem. Can you still say this is eating? No, don't answer. You and I both know the only possible answer is no. WHat this guy is doing isn't eat. He's just eating the concept of eating."

Sukuna isn't even eating at this point, he's eating the concept of eating. He's eating because the pleasurable sensation of eating distracts him for a little while, and because looking for his next meal gives him something to do while he's killing time before he dies.

2. Anti-Philosophy Philosophy

They're not even saying that life is meaningless, because that's a conclusion you come to after questioning the meaning of life. They reject the questioning of meaning itself, the attempt to understand either life or other people. They're living entirely like lions prowling the sarangetti for their next meal.

"I've never needed anyone to satisfy me. I eat when I wanna eat, play with what amuses me, and kill whoever's in my way. I live as befits my nature. If no one can grasp that, it's their problem."

Mahito rejects the heart, Sukuna rejects love, both of these things are more complicated human desires than just eat until your stomach is full and kill or be killed.

Sukuna and Gojo both say "Tenjou, Tenge Yuigadoksun - above heaven, under heaven, I alone am worthy of honor" but only Sukuna goes on further to say "all that exists is my pleasure and displeasure". Even Gojo wants to be understood by others even if he thinks that normal people can't understand him and he exists as a different species from them, but Sukuna himself even rejects the fact people might understand him. They do, or they don't, it doesn't matter to him because he only needs to udnerstand himself. Sukuna's practically lapsing into solopism here.

Solopism is the philosophical lens that only one's mind is sure to exist. Knowledge outside of one's own mind is unsure, the external worlds and other minds cannot be known and might not exist outside the mind.

Solopism builds on the failure of Descartes maxim "I think; therefore I exist" which fails to provide any real details about the nature of the "I" that has proven to exist. Solipism asserts the only thing certain is the "I" - one's most certain knowledge is one's own mind, my thoughts, my experiences, my emotions. There is no link between the occurence of a certain conscious experience or mentals tates and the "possession" or behavioral dispoistions of a "body" of a particular kind. The experience of a given personality is private and only understood by that person. The solipistic view of Sukuna is that his experience in the present, what he's feeling, is the only thing that matters and everything else may as well not exist.

I'd only say it has things in common with solipism though, because even Solipism questions reality which Sukuna doesn't question anything. Suuna doesn't feel the need to question things or grow because in his mind his understanding of himself is perfect and complete which is why he doesn't need anyone else's comprehension of him.

In freudian psychoanalytic theory you could align Sukuna's behavior to the ID (I Desire). Jung and Freud both believe in a divded consciousness, but Freud divides it into three, the id, the ego and the superego. The id is the insintcts, superego is the higher thinking like morality, and the ego is the mediator between the two. The id is the most primitive and instinctual part of the mind. For example a child is said to be all id, because they don't understand rules or other people's feelings they only want to fill their basic needs. Mahito would be the childlike aspect of the id, because he is a newborn fledgling cursed spirit.

The id also follows the pleasure principle, which Sukuna's philosophy also follows "all that exists is my pelasure and displeasure." Freud argues the pleasure principal is an ingained survival instinct "what decides the purpose of life is simply the programme of the pleasure principle". The Id is made up of the life-sustaining activities such as eating and sex, and it makes these things pleasurable so we will pursue them. However, there's also a counterpart to the pleasure principle in the human psyche that is the reality prinicple, which is the human capacity of defer gratification of a desire when a situation doesn't allow you to have immediately what you want. The id is ruled by the pleasure principle, and immediately wants all of its desires granted at the cost of everything else, but mature human egos are able to delay instant gratification for a higher objective.

Sukuna basically lives by the rule of the pleasure principle. He's shown capable of long term planning if he needs to like taking Megumi's body, so he's not incable of delaying instant gratifciation but at the same time his ruling princple seems to be seeking immediate pleasure. Sukuna is a walking appetite, he literally has a mouth on his stomach.

There's also the alchemical trinity to consider, mind, body, and soul. In this Sukuna is the body. Not only is he a body hijacker who has literally transformed Megumi's body practically into his own, but he also only lives to satiate the phyiscal needs of the body.

This is where Sukuna would differentiate himself from solipism though, because he needs to exist in a physical body. His entire quest over the course of the manga is to regain a body, he needs to eat, he needs to fight physically, he wouldn't be comfortable just existing as a brain within a jar he needs to stay in the physical world. He lives for the physical pleasures of this world.

What about the Body character?  There isn’t one in every alchemy story, but when this does appear, the markers are predictable.  Body characters are focused on their bodily needs--they are hungry, thirsty, and, in adult stories, lusty.  And they are often fearful. Think of Papageno in Mozart’s opera, the Magic Flute, who breaks his vow of temperance and starts eating and drinking on stage, lamenting his lack of female companionship.  Or Wiggins in The Little White Horse (he’s a beautiful, vain King Charles spaniel, always focused on his next meal). Or Sméagol/Gollum, who eats compulsively though his main lust is for the Ring.

Sukuna for instance wouldn't be happy living like Tengen who exists far outside of humanity simply observing others, because he has a need to interact with the world in the form of eating, or experiencing earthly pleasure.

In fact after going through several philosophies which don't quite describe Sukuna's own philosophy (because it resembles these while inherently rejecting the need for philosophy) we might come to the closest comparison for what Sukuna's desire is, which is to exist for as long as possible on the earthly plain while filling up his stomach.

Sukuna is comparable to the Celestial Demon Mara in budhist mythology, more on it in this thread. In budhist cosmology, Mara is the "personification of the forces antagonistic to enlightenment."

Devaputra-mara specifically is the deva of the sensuous realm, who tries to prevent Gautuma Budha from attaining liberation fro m the cycle of rebirth the night of his enlightenment. The existence of Mara is to defy Budha, and specifically to prevent his escape from the cycle of the world, especially the sensuous realm. He exists in opposition to the three marks of existence too.

Number one impernanence, that all existence, without exception is "transient, evanescent, inconstant". Number two Dukha "Suffering, pain, unsatisfactoriness" is inherent to life. Number three antaa "Non-self, non-soul, no-essence."

If the ultimate goal of budhism is to escape the cycle entirely and stop being reborn in the sensuous realm, Maara instead tempts people to stay in this realm. it defines impernanence by suggesting we stay in this realm forever. It defies Dukha by saying we indulge in physical pleasures in this realm, that we should seek to satisfy ourselves even if budhism argues that life is primarily unsatisfactory. Then if the ultimate goal of existence in budhism is the "non-self" to escape ego, Maara argues we should remain trapped as ourselves forever.

We even see Sukuna literally tempt a budha-like figure into remaining in this earthly realm. After all aren't we shown that Gojo achieved enlightenment at seventeen and let go of earthly emotions like the need to be angry and avenge Riko's killer because the feeling of oneness with existence was too good in that moment.

A lot of people noticed what they thought was Gojo acting out of character in the fight with him and Sukuna, by enjoying the fight and choosing his selfish desire to love jujutsu and fight as a sorcerer over his responsibiltiy to protect children. Something which Nanami says in his dying hallucination that Gojo only ever lived for the pursuit of his selfish desire for Jujutsu in the first place.

Gojo, a character that we know has a higher minded ideal that he's fighting for the next generation of sorcerers is shown losing that ideal in the fight with Sukuna, and only caring about his earthly pleasures, having a satisfying fight against a strong opponent. You could even say that was Sukuna's goal in the fight, to strip off Gojo's fish scales so to speak and reduce him back to being a normal human being. Something which he accomplished when he managed to learn to cut the space that Gojo inhabited, therefore negating the infinitity that protected him and dragging him back to this earthly realm.

"This is goodbye. You were born in an era without me and hailed as the strongest yet you turned out to be painfully ordinary..."

In a way Sukuna tempted Gojo away from enlightenment and succeeded. The linked thread goes on to say that Budha defeats Maara to save his students during his temptation, but Gojo on the other hand died and failed protecting his students specifically because he chose the earthly pleasure of seeking to have fun in a fight over the well-being of his student Megumi who's body was possessed.

He made a human being again out of an enlightened Gojo, and dragged him back to morality and the cycle of death and rebirth by making Gojo care more about his selfish desire for a fight than the principles he fought for. Sukuna trapped Gojo in the mortal realm along with him.

Sukuna's philosophy sounds like Mara's too, that rather than seeking anything better you should just distract yourself from the unhappiness of life by indulging in pleasures to stifle your misery.

I'd say Sukuna lives the same way. He doesn't consider himself weak, but he doesn't talk about life or this world like it's a fun place to be. He tells Yuji to stifle his misery. He then admits to Kamo that his purpose in life is just to eat delicious things to kill time until he dies.

"Life is just killing time until you die" sounds like a miserable kind of hedonism, since he's only distracting himself from the unpleasantness of life. Sukuna too might just be spending his life stifling his own misery by seeking endless pleasure on earth. He doesn't want to escape earth however, he wants to remain on earth for as long as possible. Kamo even pointed out the strange contradiction in his own philosophy.

Sukuna insists he doesn't need to be understood by others, that he's not alone, that fighting and eating his way through life is enough for him because he understands himself and all life is just enertaining yourself until you die anyway, but Kamo asks why if he's just satisfied with that kind of life did he go to the trouble of ripping his soul into twenty pieces and trying to regain his body 1,000 years later.

Sukuna notably avoids this question. He doesn't tell Kamo why he even bothered to divide his soul up and extend his life if he's perfectly satisfied with life as it is. We don't get the answer to why he wants to possess Megumi or is going through all this trouble.

That's where we get to the greatest snag in Sukuna's philosophy, which ironically relates back to the tug of war between the pleasure principal and the reality principal.

Sukuna's philosophy is that he's never needed anyone else "I've never needed anyone to satisfy me. I eat when I wanna eat, play with what amuses me and kill whoever's in my way. I live as befits my nature. If no one can grasp that, then that's their problem."

The big glaring flaw in Sukuna's philospohy that he's only ever needed himself is kind of like the flaw in the american "pull yourself up by your bootstraps philosophy" its that everyone including Sukuna needs other people. Sukuna isn't fighting with his own strength alone right now. He stole it from Megumi. He could have conceived of a way to beat Gojo without the Ten Shadows yes, but right now Sukuna wouldn't even be able to exist in the physical world without Megumi's body.

He is literally a parasite in a teen boy's body, using him to his own ends and yet he insists that he's the only one that exists or matters and he's always been able to accomplish everything he wanted with his own strength. Sukuna's a parasite right now, arguing that he's the greatest individual and has never needed or relied upon anyone.

The Great and Mighty Sukuna is defiling a young person's body for his own gain, the same way that Kenjaku defiles women and his own children, the same way that the elders manipulate the young in Jujutsu Kaisen to maintain their power base in Jujutsu Society. This supposedly all-powerful erson who only ever relies on himself and only needs his own ego wouldn't even be alive right now if he wasn't paraisitizing Megumi's body, yet he argues that he's completely fulfilled in himself.

A freudian perspective argues that a mature ego finds a balance between the pleasure principal (the need for instant gratification) and the reality principal (the ability to defer instant gratifiaction when the situation doesn't allow for it). Whereas a child is only ID and only cares about fulfilling their most basic needs first and foremost.

Sukuna is paradoxically presenting his views like he's a fully realized, enlightened adult the absolute peak of sorcery, the most developed and intelligent sorcerer in the world, etc. etc. yet he has the underdeveloped ego of a child because he has no grip of the reality principal. A person who doesn't interact with other people or the world, can't learn or grow from it. Which is probably why the closest character you can compare to Sukuna is Mahito, a literal child and a newborn curse. Even Mahito fails to become a true curse in the end.

Sukuna says he rejects enlightenment, and any higher philosophy in order to remain in the earthly realm forever, but one wonders if that isn't the same as the Miltonian Lucifer rejecting heaven to reign in hell.

The mind is its own place, and in itself Can make a heav’n of hell, a hell of heav’n. What matter where, if I be still the same, And what I should be, all but less than he Whom thunder hath made greater? Here at least We shall be free: th’Almighty hath not built Here for his envy, will not drive us hence: Here we may reign secure, and in my choice To reign is worth ambition, though in hell; Better to reign in hell than serve in heav’n.

The theme of Paradise Lost is that any sinner, even Lucifer, can stop at any time and seek forgiveness instead. However, Lucifer chooses not to do that. He could leave hell at any time but he chooses to stay. He’s fine in hell after all. He’s totally gotten used to the temperature by now. Everything is fine Lucifer says, while everything is on fire.

Lucifer would rather stay in a hell of his own creation because it gives him the illusion of control over his life then admit he was wrong or give up that control.

He may be king of hell however, but he's still in hell. Hell is not exactly the most pleasant place to be. King he may be, but he's trapped here the same as everyone else.

Sukuna may be the closest a character has come to being a true curse, he might have transcended humanity, the human need for love, but he still can't escape the earthly realm. In fact his entire philosophy is a mara-esque avoid enlightenment and stay in the earthly realm as long as possible. In a series where characters like Yuki and Kenjaku are trying to evolve cursed energy into something different, either by completely removing it, or by optimizing it and forcing it to take a new form Sukuna is someone who is stagnant and resisting that evolution. Why would someone who's already perfect need to evolve in any way?

That might just be Sukuna's downfall in a way. By rejecting other people, by rejecting the human need to seek meaning in life, he may have made himself completely stagnant. After all if Sukuna already accepts everything about himself, if he is a fully realized individual then why would he need to change?

He can steal techniques and knowledge from others of course, but that's what he always has done. The real question is how would Sukuna who's the perfect sorcerer, who's never been anything other than a sorcerer and lives to be one, exist in a world where the definition of what a sorcerer even is will probably change by theend of the manga?

So Sukuna may ask "What can a little boy hope to accomplish here?" but a child like Yuji is capable of the one thing that Sukuna isn't, growing and changing into something better.

[adhdbisexualramblings]

Post-portal Feral Mabel Pines Headcanons

Based on the amalgamation of the drifting stars au and the ‘feral Ford’ concept comes the Feral Mabel AU thingy! By that, I mean headcanons!

-She met Ford immediately after falling into the portal, ending up in the Nightmare Realm and being saved from Bill’s clutches.

-By the time she fell, Ford was already pretty animalistic. He saved her, but it took Mabel a few hours to convince him that they were family and that she wasn’t just a stray.

-Him being all animal-like freaks her out at first, understandably so, and she messes up when trying to introduce herself a few times (loud, bright, things are usually dangerous), but Ford understands her well enough to accept her as family and she needs him for survival.

-Eventually, Mabel starts copying Ford’s movements, reactions, and behavior to an extent. Things like moving slowly, hiding the way he does, etc., sort of like a human meowing at a cat. She really only starts doing it for Ford’s sake.

-The multiverse is large, savage, scary, and dangerous. Mabel starts realizing that her grunkle has developed the animal mindset for a very good reason. She stops copying him out of entertainment and starts imitating him for survival.

-As the years in the portal and outside of it pass, the two become inseparable. Ford sees himself as her ‘pack leader’ and caregiver. They both see Mabel as Ford’s “kit” or “pup”.

-Mabel’s small stature and creativity have gotten them both out of a lot of jams when it came to escaping.

-Mabel uses the key sweater she came in with as bedding for many of their nests. It’s still soft and brings her comfort. Ford likes it because it has her scent.

-Neither if them recognized their twin when they returned. Ford started pulling her behind him and growling, so Mabel did the same, hissing aggressively. Poor Stan and Dipper had to wait for them to realize.

-When they get more settled in, Mabel gets confused when Stan or Dipper don’t follow the pre-established “rules” of the pack or do what she does (nests or scavenging). Dipper, meanwhile, gets concerned when she does those things, scared he’s losing his sister.

-Dipper starts taking notes of her behavior and what it means so he can copy it to make her feel better. Their progress improves, but they’re both aware that having to move back to California will be a struggle.

-A part of Mabel sees Waddles as food rather than a pet now. She’s ashamed of that part.

-Sometimes Ford and Mabel will be gone for hours or days, usually with each other, to scout the area, catch food (wild creatures) in the woods, or because they only feel safe with each other. Mabel is especially good at making traps. If she needs to kill out of necessity, like food, she will. This has concerned the others.

-Ford and Mabel see the other Pines’ as their “pack siblings” and would kill and die for them.

-When perceived danger arises, Mabel will panic and attempt to herd the others together before getting them to safety. While she has less trouble moving past those animal instincts than Ford does, they’re still there.

-Stan and Ford’s relationship is actually somewhat better. Mabel managed to convince Ford that Stan wasn’t as awful as he thought, and Stan is his pack brother that he feels protective over. Still, they’re not entirely OK, and Stan will blame Ford for how Mabel acts in times of heated anger.

And that’s it! It turned less into headcanons and more into a story outline (whoops) as they kept going but I have a lot to say about this AU.

[rs-hawk]

Healer in the Dungeon

CisMale!Reader x Intersex Minotaur Women

Word Count: 2,649

Commissioner: @gviridian

Contains: mpreg, slight non-con, oral, multiple partners, and a lot more

Male Healer adventurer gets separated from his party, ends up getting captured by minotuar woman. Uses healing magic on himself to survive and eventually get accustomed to her large Womanhood, only realize top late that she is a distinct form of Minotaur and he is now pregnant. Fast forward to him happily suckling her cock, pregnant with her sisters child. Word got out in the dungeon, so he now looks forward to a life of being a Minotaur breeder and spends his days caring for his many daughters or being railed by the various musky bull women community in the dungeon. Nothing could make him happier.

The dungeon you and your party chose was supposed to be off limits for humans, but because you were the only human in your party, you managed to trick your way inside. The rest of your party warned you that human free dungeons usually are that way for a reason, but you didn’t care. The reward for clearing this dungeon was more than you could spend in a year, and you were your party’s only Healer. You needed to be there. No silly warnings with no explanation was going to keep you from earning enough to live off of comfortably.

It started off normally enough. Your party fought the upper level creatures and handled them with ease. Tentacle monsters. Small mimics. Goblins. The usual dungeon starters. You didn’t see anything special about this place so far. Why had there been so many warnings for human adventurers to stay away? It was even easy at parts. There was nothing weird or unusual in the slightest. You started to get the creeps when a goblin realized that you were a human, and started laughing so hard that even when he was impaled on the Cleric’s staff, he didn’t stop. Your party was also unnerved by this, and asked again if you were sure you wanted to go to the lower levels. After a moment of hesitation, you insisted that you still wanted to go. You were strong, and more than a Healer. You could hold your own. Of course, your arrogance was your mistake. Or rather, you mused looking back, your luck.

In the lowest level of the dungeon, the Bard, captivated by a Fey who had turned a corner, tripped a booby trap. You were the only one of the party who ended up on the side of the wall that you did. You could hear them, and they could hear you, but none of you had any idea how to get back to each other. After what little muted conversation you could have, it was decided that the group would try to just complete the dungeon as is, and meet at the entrance. If worse came to worse, you all had respawn potions and could respawn back at the entrance.

You have no idea how long you were wandering around the depths of the dungeon when you heard movement behind you. In seconds, your torch was knocked from your hand, and you were pinned to the ground. Even though every instinct in you was screaming danger, and your mind was reeling, trying to think of a way to escape the heavy weight on top of you, your cock hardened at the hot breath on the back of your neck. In the flickering light of your torch, you saw the shadow of a large Minoatur pinning you down.

“A human,” a breathy, feminine voice almost purred in your ear. “I haven’t had one in so long.”

Your face flushed as large hands groped your body. She tugged you into her lap, her fingers trailing along the clothed bulge. Your breathing became more rapid as she repeated the action, drawing precum from your twitching cock.

“I can smell your arousal, little human,” she chuckled as she began to bounce you in her lap, only then realizing that instead of her leg, which you thought you had been leaning against, it was her massive cock.

In seconds, she ripped your clothes off of you, several of your potions scattering and smashing to the floor. She forces her fingers into your mouth, praising you for how well you take them before she slides one into your ass, trying to prep you for what’s still grinding against you. You can barely draw in a breath, pushing your body back against her finger. Despite yourself, it feels so good that your mind is turning to mush. When she adds a second finger, you can’t help but start stroking your cock in time, rolling your hips both back onto her fingers and forward into your hand.

“If you’re so eager, you must be ready,” she ran her tongue up your neck, your hand flattering as goosebumps sprung up in the wake of it.

You barely have time to whisper a preventive harm spell before she’s pushing her fat cock into you inch by inch. You’re already whimpering and panting by the time she’s halfway inside of you. Her warm, silky voice praising you for taking her so well as she continued. Once she finally bottomed out inside of you, you both cry out. Tears prick your eyes at the full feeling. You didn’t know that you could actually feel that full. You’re falling forward, barely able to keep your face from slamming into the rocky floor.

You struggle to remember what it felt like just an hour ago before you were stuffed with a Minotaur’s cock. Part of you felt ashamed for how much you liked it. You didn’t even know if the rest of your party was okay. What if they were hurt, and you were here almost cumming from a woman shoving herself inside of you over and over? There was another part though, a much bigger part, that was just thinking about how good it felt. It was all you could do to not entirely focus on the feeling of being stuffed. You had always prided yourself on being a strong man, but you never realized until this moment how much you wanted a much stronger woman to put you into your place, and this was where it was. On the ground. Under her. Being used like a plaything.

“What a good human,” she grunted as she gripped your hips, holding you there for a moment as she gathered herself. You felt so tight and warm wrapped around her cock that it’s taking everything in her not to fill you already.

All you could do was moan in response, your neglected cock dripping precum since you couldn’t even try to stroke yourself now. Without warning, she started thrusting into you. The pace she set was steady at first, allowing you to grunt out a few spells to heal the minor injuries she caused you as she picked up the pace. By the time she was at the pace she wanted, where she was basically using you as a living sex doll, pumping her cock in and out of you so hard that you were on the edge of cumming without any additional stimulation, you were half out of your mind. She seemed to still have enough wits about her to scoop up some of the spilled potions with her fat fingers to shove them into your propped open, drooling mouth.

“There we go. I don’t want my new toy broken yet,” she cooed as you lazily sucked on her fingers, relaxing as the potions took some effect. Almost instantly after the potion started to take effect, you came. She chuckled again, nosing and licking your neck. “Do you like that, little human?” The only answer you could manage to get out was a nod, almost gagging on her fingers that were still in your mouth.

Shouldn’t you be humiliated? The creature that you had come down here to protect the rest of your party from, the creature you had come to kill if push came to shove, was claiming you as her own. That train of thought was hazy as it crossed your mind, because it was being fucked out of you by the giant woman behind you who was muttering about what a good piece of breeding stock you would be. At the time, you couldn’t properly understand what she meant. All you could really focus on was the pleasure of her sliding in and out of you, stretching you so deliciously that you thought you might pass out from pleasure.

You don’t know how many times you cum before she dug her nails into your soft skin, making you wince. Her breathing got harder, faster, as she was basically rutting into you at that point. Her cock was stuffed so far inside of you that your stomach was slightly extended. Then, she came. You groaned, panting and pushing back against her as if that would stop the seed from dripping down your legs.

She slowly drug her cock out of you, licking along your back, fingering her cum back into you. “Don’t waste all of that, human.”

Your head wasn’t clear enough to see why it mattered. After all, human males can’t get pregnant, right?

You quickly gave up trying to find your way out of the dungeon, satisfied with your new Minotaur Mate pounding into your holes whenever she pleased. You were basically always filled with her cock, and you loved it. You never were that much of a fighter, only wanting to be an adventurer for the money and travel. You liked healing people, and you cared about your party, sure, but this was heaven for you. Your greedy hole always sucked her in, milking her dry. It wasn’t until a few weeks later that you realized, even though she hadn’t stuffed you in nearly a day, your stomach was still extended, as if still full of her cum.

“Love?” you called for her, making your way out of her nest to the edge of the dungeon, peering into the darkness.

She came to you quickly, sounding worried. “What is it, little human? Are you hurt?’

A smile tugged at the corner of your lips as she looked over you, patting your head and stomach. After a moment, she visibly relaxed. “I’m okay. I’m just still feeling a little full and nauseous,” you explained as you put a hand over your almost bloated looking stomach. “I was wondering if maybe there was any ginger so I could make a healing potion so I could feel better.”

It surprised you when she laughed, scooping you up in her arms. “Little human, morning sickness is completely normal. Don’t even human breeders get that?’

“If you’re pregnant, sure,” you laughed back, though still confused.

She nuzzled into your neck, breathing in your scent. “And you’re pregnant, so it seems completely normal, no?”

You froze, going rigid in your arms. “What?”

It was time for her to look confused as she pulled back from you, her bull head cocked to the side. After a few moments, she set you down, sitting down beside you. She explained that after the original Minotaur was nearly killed, his descendants all became able to breed or be bred, regardless of gender. It was a way for Posiden to ensure that the embarrassment and curse of Minos lived on. The gears in your head were turning as you realized what she was saying. Her cum literally turned you into her breeding stock.

“Humans are always the best at adapting. I’ve wanted my own for so long,” she said wistfully. “I’m so glad that you came to me.”

You don’t respond, trying to wrap your head around it. You had a million questions, but weren’t sure you wanted the answer to any of them. “I’m going for a walk. I won’t leave the dungeon,” you promised as a concerned moo left her lips.

She stood up, wanting to stop you, but the look on your face made her falter. You knew easily how to leave by now, but you didn’t want to. Not really. You were happy with your new Mate, your new life, but being pregnant? You never even thought about it. The other Minotaur women came to check on you, obviously having been told by your Mate what happened. You assured them all you were okay, trying to ignore their hungry gaze now on your stomach and body. Did they all want to see you swell with their young?

It only took a couple of hours for you to return home, crawling into the hay beside your mate. She wrapped her arms around you, licking your hair as an apology, cleaning you and nosing you. By the time you have your first daughter, your now wife had made sure that there was plenty of potions and ingredients for you to cast spells or make any potions that you might need. It wasn’t as long of a process as you expected, and the healing potions made the recovery easy. Seeing your wife nurse your daughter, cooing and peppering her with kisses, made your heart swell almost as much as your stomach had.

By the time your first daughter could walk, the other women had already decided that it was only fair for your sister in law to be the next to breed you. The other women watched your daughter as your head was shoved down on your wife’s cock and her sister’s was stretching your tight human ass. You gagged, looking up at your wife through blearly eyes. She was stroking your hair, telling you how good you looked choking on her cock, and how well you were taking her sister.

Her sister wasn’t as gentle with you as your wife had been the first time, giving you no time to adjust to her size. You were immediately stuffed with her cock, her nose ring leaving indents on your back as she kept her face pressed against it, fighting the urge to cum inside you after just a few thrusts. Your wife stroked your hair, encouraging you to relax your throat so she could get as much pleasure out of you as her sister.

It didn’t take long for your stomach to be swollen with your sister in law’s daughter, but of course that just meant that she used you even more often, knowing that her claim on you was waning. Your wife, of course, was always involved, cumming down your throat and having you thank her for letting you be her birthing and breeding mate anytime you were dripping cum. Sometimes she was even kind enough to stroke your cock, teasing you when you came before her sister filled you.

The women all fawned over you. They brought you treats, and insisted that when you were heavy with child that you should rest. Your wife, of course, doted on you the most, even as busy as she was with your daughters. She would stroke your cock, telling you what a good boy you were for taking whoever had fucked the most recent daughter into you. She licked and kissed your neck and hair, soothing you when you cried out from the overstimulation of her reward.

“Little human, you’re doing so well. You were made to be a breeder,” she whispered with clear affection, pressing a kiss to your forehead as she drew another orgasm out of your poor cock.

Some of the other women stopped to watch, their cocks hard and eager to get the chance to breed your little human hole. Your head lulled to the side as your wife picked you up to carry you to her bed. The others were shouting out cheers when your tunic slid to the side as well, showing off your swollen stomach. Your wife hadn’t even taken the time to fully undress you.

“You will look even better when it’s my daughter,” one of them laughed, stroking her cock to the sight of you.

“He looked best swollen with mine,” your sister in law argued, her throbbing cock dripping precum as she licked her lips, eyeing you like prey.

And that’s how you hope to live the rest of your life. Belly swollen with yet another daughter to dote on and nurture, teaching magic that normally Minotaurs wouldn’t be able to access, and being stuffed by your loving wife and her many sisters and cousins, being passed around like the absolutely desperate and aching breeding bitch she made you into. Who cared about treasure and riches anyway?

You can get your own commission here!

[naranjapetrificada]

Just a small thing I noticed while being totally normal about the gay pirates:

I've watched The Kiss™ way too many times a normal number of times and my favorite moment is the series of microexpressions Rhys cycles through while Stede is reacting to "what makes Ed happy is...you" because it's just so lovely and masterfully done. While trying to find a good gif of just that moment (no luck so far!) I noticed something that happens while Ed is pulling Stede in.

Stede, darling honey light of my life, clueless useless "oblivious" gay that he is, tilts his head a bit and leans into the kiss too. Before it's even started. On some level he registers that This Is Happening in time to react in a positive way, even before their lips have touched.

Our boy is a creature of instinct, and when he acts on his emotional instincts without thinking too much he knocks so much shit out of the park. Instinct is part of why "you wear fine things well" hits as hard as it does. Instinct is how he can woo Ed as easily as he does. Instinct is how they were able connect so deeply so quickly, because his instinct is to be open and non-judgemental to this beautiful man waiting beside his sickbed and asking about fine fabrics.

Stede's thoughts are still too clouded by his trauma and self-loathing to be useful for him, and he can end up thinking too much about what he "should" do or what other people do. Thinking is part of the reason he's so quick to believe Chauncey in the woods. Thinking means succumbing to beliefs about his perceived worthlessness, which leads to his biggest mistakes. Thinking tells him to adjust what he says about Blackbeard in that tavern of townies, when his instinct was to say how "absolutely lovely" Ed is.

Obviously man cannot live by instinct alone, like he definitely should have thought for a minute about making a deal with Geraldo to fence the hostage. Stede needs to learn to balance the two and when to listen to either/both of them. But I was just so excited to see him leaning in the way he does because it underlines a feeling I've had for a minute, which is that Stede's instincts are those of someone crushing and then falling in love, and that never wavers.

He lacks the context and vocabulary to identify what's going on without outside intervention, but he also deeply gets it in a way that's extremely queer and that I hope starts showing up more in the fanon. I do a little happy dance every time I see this in people's fics and I just need so many more of them! Give me more eager Stede who is Ready To Go once he's given the right context for his feelings about Ed!

[leehallfae]

the devil in the dark is a great episode for sooooo many reasons but something i particularly love is its characterization of kirk & spock, especially how the story juxtaposes their initial attitudes vs. their actions as well as juxtaposing them against one another. for most of the episode, kirk is very firmly situated in the command role: he’s laser-focused on his goal of eliminating whatever has been killing the miners. he has a plan & he sticks to it. he can’t afford to entertain ideas about capturing the creature for scientific study rather than killing it, because that introduces more risk to his crew. his mission is to protect as many lives as possible, full stop.

however, when he sees the horta in that cave, his first instinct isn’t to shoot. he’s wary of course, brandishing a phaser for his own safety, but he’s also curious & gentle. he studies her with wonder shining in his eyes. his movements mirror her own—he immediately picks up on the fact that she isn’t necessarily hostile towards him, & in response, he slowly, carefully, sets aside his own hostility as well. he speaks to her, makes little jokes. he watches her in perpetual amazement & intrigue, very cautiously extending a metaphorical hand to say, i don’t want to hurt you. it’s a big leap from “your orders are shoot to kill,” & that reveals a lot about kirk. he’s a good commander, he knows how to handle a dangerous situation while minimizing risk to his crew, but he’s also curious. kind. optimistic. gentle. in the heat of the moment, when he’s the only one at risk, his basic instinct doesn’t say fight, it says listen.

meanwhile, spock is immensely intrigued by the horta; he regrets that it will most likely be necessary to kill her in order to protect themselves. he spends most of the episode speculating on the fascinating science of a silicone-based life form. he even (very subtly) challenges kirk’s order by telling the security team to capture the creature if possible. he isn’t eager to use force, because he simply isn’t that kind of person—he’s curious by nature, like kirk. so it seems a great shift when, upon hearing that the horta is near kirk, he shouts through the communicator, “kill it, captain! kill it!”

realizing that kirk is in danger is like flipping a switch. the way he carries himself changes in an instant. urgency flares to life in his eyes & voice. as wild with it as a vulcan can get. freezing in place, then breaking into a run, calling out, forgetting rank. to him, the most preferable—the most logical—course of action is not to explore why the horta has not attacked the captain yet; rather, it is to eliminate the threat to kirk as soon as possible.

in a way, they represent both a reversal & a mirror of each other in this episode. kirk is a decisive & capable fighter, but his instincts steer him towards gentler things. spock prioritizes scientific inquiry & discovery, but it all appears inconsequential when his friend’s life is on the line. they balance each other, complement each other. it’s why they’re such a good command team. it’s why they fall so easily into such a deep bond. both of them, ultimately, act from a place of love.

[sungbeam]

𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞

demon!ji changmin x reader (no pronouns used, but original fic was f!reader)

love. — what is love if not your steady heartbeat in his ear when he thinks you should be afraid?

4.7k words, established relationship, demon/supernatural creatures au, mild angst, very minor humor, bit of fluff?, mentions of blood, so much intimacy (skinship, cheek/stomach kisses), mentions of insecurities, swearing, use of pet names (love, sweetheart)

read night terrors / peruse the collection post

a/n: this lowkey just became a character study of demon changmin

THERE WEREN'T MANY INSTANCES where you were afraid for Changmin, nor were there many instances where you were afraid of him. You suspected that he strived to avoid either of said instances, especially regarding the latter. After all the two of you had experienced with one another, it seemed important to him that you could trust him and were not scared. 

It was difficult for him to fully accept that he did not frighten you in some way. Part of that reason, you guessed, was simply his awareness of how others viewed his species.

What was he but a mortal's night terror, a creature of evil?

To him, you should have been sleeping with a stake beneath your pillow—or rather, you shouldn't have had enough trust to sleep next to him at all. 

But several months under your relationship's belt was beginning to ease his concerns. The long drives up and down the state, chasing his strange assignments for work, had slowly become something he could look forward to. Sunshine or rain battering the windows, he would glance away from the dense fog outside to see you holding on desperately to the waking world, or feel your fingers curl around his hand when sleep stole you away. 

Most of the time, it wasn't too dangerous and you didn't mind tagging along with him. You'd grown used to the nomad lifestyle, seemingly content with spending a couple weeks in Moonstone Creek from time to time, and the rest of it with him. 

You loved him; you always made that clear. The ring on your right ring finger was proof that he knew that and reciprocated.

There were always, however, doubts. Changmin always had doubts. 

“—And I'll get that blueberry muffin creamer you liked yesterday, too.” 

Changmin broke out of the bubble he'd trapped himself in at the sensation of your lips against his cheek. This mortal body he had flushed at the feeling, his hand swift to stop you from leaving just yet, like an instinct. 

He wrapped an arm around your waist, and his face was level with your stomach from the chair he sat in. The hotels you usually stayed at on your routes always came with a desk and chair, so you could work on Moonstone Creek's finances or he could research. He pressed a kiss to your clothed stomach, his hand squeezing your waist affectionately. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

Your smiling eyes met his and you combed your hand through his hair once, twice. “I'll be back soon. You just keep your head in those books.”

He grumbled something against your stomach—‘I thought college was the last time I'd be pouring over texts’—and your laugh twinkled over his head. He hadn't even been paying attention to the texts he brought; really, his head was elsewhere today. 

“That's your fault for being an anthropology major and for literally chasing down ancient artifacts as your main source of income.”

“That was so unhelpful.”

Another comb through his hair. He could melt. “Just being honest,” you sang amusedly. “Okay, but I should get a move on. All their pastries are gonna be gone, and their danishes smelled really good yesterday.”

He hummed. “Stay safe.” Another kiss. 

Your hand settled at the nape of his neck. “I will. Love you.”

The words warmed in his chest. Just as you were pulling away, his grip tightened for a moment. “You have Clyde?” He couldn't let anything happen to you. 

“Yes—” you patted your jacket pocket, “—Clyde’s where he's always been. And Bonnie?”

“You know she's not moving,” he said, cocking a brow at you. 

You bit your lip through a small laugh and slowly moved toward the hotel room door, shoving your wallet and the room key into your pockets. “Okay. Happy reading then, love.”

“Unhappy reading,” he groaned into his hand, which was followed by your laugh and the door closing behind you. The corners of his lips lifted into a smile.

He counted a few seconds in case you had forgotten something, then went over to grab his phone from the nightstand. Settling on the edge of the bed, he pulled up the text thread he had between himself and Sangyeon. 

sangyeon: okay so don't freak out [sent an image]

sangyeon: but i found this lying around my house the other day, and i asked lily abt it and she said yn was on the fence abt showing u

Changmin could recognize your handwriting against Lily's in the picture. The image was a clear scan of a piece of paper, who's centerpiece was that of a house. It was a roughly drawn blueprint of a cottage, something small, cozy, homely. The house, as you outlined, wasn't large at all, but with one full floor, an attic, and a porch. There were notes all around the house in your familiar scrawl, writing about the projected cost of each thing—typical of you to think about practicality, even in your fantasy house blueprint—as well as features you'd like installed, like a fireplace and a porch swing.

It reminded him so much of Sena's house in the suburbs in a way… had you thought about this while you were there? A place you could call home, some place to settle down eventually, and finally have a slice of normalcy?

sangyeon: lily said she coaxed it out of yn, which is why yn didn't want to share it and make it seem like she was forcing u into anything u weren't comfortable w

sangyeon: but i think that u love her enough to hear her out

sangyeon: idk… it's ur call ofc whether or not u want to have that conversation yet

Changmin always had doubts. He'd learned during his time on the mortal plane to slow down and feel the weight of another's emotions, and what inevitably came with empathy was insecurity. 

You loved him; that was why his ring was on your finger and you would never bring up the cottage you confided to Lily about. You loved him, and knew that there was an unmistakable itch in him that could only be scratched when he was able to move, to not be chained to one place. But humans were different from demons, and your experiences were different from his. 

He always had doubts that you might never be fully content with this life he led. 

He sighed, massaging his jaw absentmindedly with one hand. Sangyeon had sent him those messages two days ago when you and he were driving to this sleepy town, tucked away at the foot of a mountain range. You'd been asleep when they were received, which was why you didn't see the notifications. Changmin could do as little then as he could now, and he basically replied to Sangyeon that he would think about it and talk to you. 

At some point. 

That was before he realized that it would be all he could think about. There was no word for 'selfish’ or 'selfless’ in demonic culture. It was either you did something to help yourself or harm yourself—usually, those who didn't act for their own benefit were thought of as weaker willed. It was difficult to dismantle methods of thinking like this in order to view the world and his interactions in a different way. 

Changmin abandoned his phone on the nightstand so that he could step over to the window and shove it open. The lever was rusty and squealed as he cranked it counterclockwise to let in the fresh pine morning and the natural white noise. 

Maybe this would help him focus on work or gain the courage to talk to you when you came back.

Changmin barely glanced up in time to see a blurry mass hurtling toward his face. “Shit.” 

He dropped to the floor.

A gleeful and tinny laugh like the rattle inside an aluminum can filled the room. The spike of shock in his heart was replaced very quickly with red, hot annoyance. 

“You have got to be kidding me,” he grunted, clambering to his feet, eyes narrowed on the pixie who had invaded his space. “Don't you fuckers ever knock?”

The pixie was only about a foot and a half tall, its translucent, membranous wings fluttering at the speed of a human eye's blink. This one in particular had a pair of orbs as dark as the lowest circles of Hell for eyes and two racks of jagged teeth lining its gums. The pixie buzzed around the room, careful to remain out of Changmin's reach. 

Fuckass supernatural mosquito….

“You hide your true form, demon,” its voice crackled like tin foil. “Naughty, naughty.”

Changmin's nostrils flared. “What's it to you, imp?”

“The darkness that lies deep within you—I can smell it—hear it.” The pixie zipped around the room over Changmin's head, and he gritted his teeth, attempting to clamp his hands around it. It squealed in delight, black eyes going wider and wider as if it could gaze straight into his soul. “What if we open the door, demon? Ah—I smell a human in this room!”

He stiffened. “You’re only smelling my human form,” he bit out.

“Must you need a reminder? I can smell your true form and I can smell lies.” 

Changmin stumbled back as the pixie flew directly in front of his face, then fluttered out of reach before he could snatch the piece of shit out of the air. The organ in his chest continued to hurtle toward overdrive—the pixie could smell you. The pixie could smell you. “I will rip the wings from your back if you even think about touching my human,” he growled. 

The pixie gasped, clapping its tiny, pale hands. “Oh-ho! The claws become you! Won't you show a little more skin, demon?” 

His eyes turned down to his hands, palms turned upward, the tips of his fingers turned an ash gray. Where his chipped fingernails had been, now sat a full set of dagger-sharp claws. He hadn't even realized he'd transformed them. 

“What color does a pixie bleed?” Changmin lunged for the pixie with his claws outstretched. 

The pixie dove out of the way, the claw just barely missing the edge of its leg. “Does your human taste divine?”

“None of your fucking business.”

“Not very fun are you, demon?” The pixie whizzed past his ear, behind his head—Changmin whirled about on the ball of his foot. 

He slammed his palm forward, claws denting the plaster, nightstand digging into his thighs. As the pixie rose up toward the ceiling to stay out of harm's way, Changmin climbed onto the bed, determination coursing through his veins. 

“Would you like a riddle?”

Changmin swiped his hand, relishing in the splatter of clear liquid that glittered in the air—blood. The pixie's eyes widened, this time in fear. “Why would I want a riddle?”

A tremble marked the pixie's voice. “Twin halves of old, sealed by a third / like matches, they will spark the world to burn—” Its words were cut off as it swooped out of the way, its clear blood trailing behind it as Changmin's breathing grew heavier, eyes narrowing. “To save three—”

A loud crinkle, akin to a dozen small bones being crushed. A shrill shriek, nails on a chalkboard. A demonic smirk as he clutched a fragmented wing in his clawed hand. 

“You were saying?” he taunted, bringing the flailing pixie close to his face. Changmin couldn't deny the rush of deep, animalistic satisfaction that purred in his chest at his caught prey. Whatever this pixie had in mind for you would never come to fruition. 

“You're a fool to not heed my warning—” it spat, its agony spilling in glittery globs, “—such actions are so true to your species, my liege.”

The impact of the title came accompanied by a flurry of something bright yellow and fuzzy thrown right into Changmin's face. Alarmed, he dropped the pixie and scrambled to claw the dust out of his eyes and mouth. He spluttered and spat the substance onto the hotel room floor; upon hands and knees, he tried desperately to get ahold of his bearings. 

What the fuck was this stuff?

He could hear the blood pulsing in his ears, feel the transformation taking place. There was energy going toward places on his body to grow extremities he hadn't seen in years. 

No, no, no—

Changmin gagged on the pixie's dust, its acrid taste a reflection of the bitter effects to show. He screwed his eyes shut—willed his body to take control of itself. When his hands went over his head, he swore at the feeling of the twin horns curling out of his crown. 

Every one of his once-human senses were dialed to eleven. Voices and car motors and leaves crunching bombarded his ears; the intricately disgusting layers of odors in the carpet separated themselves beneath him. The sensations overwhelmed him from disuse. He held his head in his arms, panic weighing down and around his bones. 

When the transformation was complete, he was left in haggard breaths. His arms shook as he pushed himself onto his hands and knees, then to brace against the hotel bed. 

The pixie was gone, naturally, and likely escaped out the window from where it came in. 

Changmin splayed his clawed hands beneath him on the white sheets. 

He shook his head, attempting to clear his mind and reign in the sensations to focus on the most important ones. Everything else could be background for now; all he needed was—was that. 

There—it was faint, but approaching by the second. Humming.

It was a soft, familiar sound that curled around his taut spine with the tenderness of a lover's caress. A heartbeat followed, slow but steady and sure. The pattern was also familiar, accompanied by leisurely footsteps and the smell of dark coffee and pastries. 

If he could just focus on those sensations in particular…

Then the thought hit him like a truck. 

That was you. The voice, the heartbeat, the footsteps.

You would return at any moment and see him in this state. Changmin could practically feel the fear that would roll off you in waves (or was that his own?), and he lunged for the bathroom. 

He stumbled into the dark chamber, fearing the reflection he'd find in the mirror should he turn the light on. The door slammed shut behind him and that darkness enveloped him. 

There was your heartbeat again—ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum—still faint, but becoming clearer. 

Slowly, he raised his head up to face the mirror on the bathroom wall. The dooming sense of acceptance dulled his own reaction. 

Twin horns, onyx in color, curled out from the tufts of his hair, hard and unmistakable. His skin had taken on the grayish tint of his kind from the black blood that now ripped through his veins. There were the claws, of course, and the slim, wiry tail speared at the end with a sharp spade and a mind of its own. Fangs, jagged and like small knives, peaked their points out past his lips, and he snapped his mouth shut to keep the forked tongue from tasting air. His eyes had become that of a predator's, the pupils dark as night and slimmer in shape—all the better for a deeper field of focus. 

In Hell, the consistent lack of bright light made it so that pinpoint eyes were sought after; it was better to see in the dark and pick apart the deep shades of red, black, purple, and blues. And, well, any sudden movement. 

Changmin didn't know why he tried to fool himself into thinking keeping the bathroom lights off would change anything. 

Your heartbeat was coming closer, louder. His breathing was beginning to even out as he matched his own to the sound of air rushing through your trachea, then exhaling through your nose. 

He could get himself back to his human form before you got back. He could do it—he swore he could. 

Focus.

It required so much focus and energy, but… but he could do it. He could do it before you saw him like this, before that calm heartbeat became erratic, and you became afraid—afraid of him. 

His breathing deepened as he sucked in a lungful of oxygen. In… out. 

Going from demonic form to human form in the mortal plane would be easy. 

It should have been easy. 

Seconds passed, and your footsteps approached from down the hall. There came the crinkle of a paper bag, shuffling of cardboard, as you shifted things in your hold to grab the room key from your pocket. The aroma of the pastries and coffee you brought back wafted into his nose, but not with the strength that your scent permeated every one of his senses—

Why couldn't he shift back? 

He curled his hands into fists on the counter, frustration making his fangs scrape against each other. 

Why wasn't he able to shift back? It was supposed to be easy—

The door outside clicked open and fell shut. “Changmin? Hey, I'm back.”

He stilled. The words to call back to you were lodged in his throat, unable to form upon the accursed forked tongue in his mouth. Panic seized him by the ribcage and he suddenly found it suffocating to breathe. 

There was silence on your end, and he could hear your heartbeat slowly begin to quicken. “Are you—are you okay? The wall's dented, and the—and the sheets…” 

Your footsteps arrived before the bathroom door, and at the same time he heard the door handle jiggle, he slammed his hand against it to bar you from coming in. 

Changmin could feel your leap of fright; his shoulders sagged with regret. It probably wasn't the best idea to do that. “Don't—” he cleared his throat from the grittiness there, “—don’t come in.”

Your heartbeat calmed then, after hearing back from him. “I won't,” you promised. “Is everything okay?”

I look like a monster. Some dumb fucking pixie made it so I can't shift forms. And I can't lock the stupid door because my nails are too long. 

But you didn't need to know all of that. 

He hung his head, attempting to feel that tendril of power in him that he could grapple onto to trigger the transformation. Nothing. “I'm… I'm fine,” he choked out. “I—” 

The corded necklace that was hidden beneath his shirt swung out into his view. His half of the pendant was not pulsing with life like yours was; it was connected to your heart, after all. But he curled his fingers around it nonetheless, his ears singling out your pulse. 

Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum...

“... Changmin? Can I do something to help?”

He needed time. Fuck, he just needed to wait this stupid pixie dust out. His first thought was to send you away so you wouldn't see him at all. The next was a counter to the former—he needed your pulse. That was his anchor. 

The energy was slowly seeping from his bodily stores to sustain this form in this realm. Maybe if the pixie dust didn't wear off, he could tire his body into transforming. 

Your voice came out even softer. “Hey, what's going on, love?”

His forehead hit the door, eyes fluttering shut. “I'm not… I don't look like myself right now.” The self you're used to, at least. “A pixie came into the room and—and it threw something at me to force me to transform.”

“Into…?”

There was a light thump sound from the other side of the door as you leaned against it. Your warmth radiated through the wood, and the little monster inside him leaned into it. “My demon form.”

Changmin loathed the silence, your held breath. The acceptance washed over him in a deafening wave like his head was being held underwater. 

“Okay,” you exhaled, finally. “That’s okay… and so you're not able to turn back, is that it?”

His eyes couldn't help but narrow. “You're not scared.” The scent rolling off you wasn't that of fear. 

“Why would I be scared of you?”

Changmin's breath shuddered. There were plenty of reasons for you to be scared once you saw him. This body was made to harm. “I can hear your heartbeat.”

“I'm not scar—”

“I could hear it from the street, Yn.” He didn't know what to do about the leap in your pulse, the way that steady ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum tripped over itself. Something at the back of his mind urged him to continue—to tell you everything and convince you to be scared. “I can feel the heat from your blood and smell the hotel soap on your skin.”

A beat passed. “That doesn't scare me.”

If you were anyone else, he would have laughed in your face. Foolish, foolish human. But you weren't just anyone else, and he couldn't get your terror out of his head. 

When he didn't say anything for a moment, you murmured, “Love, can I come in? Can I see you?”

Changmin swallowed. “I don't want to scare you.”

“I know—but I trust you.” Your hand warmed the door handle on the other side, the soft clink of his ring against the metal echoing through the material to reach him. “Do you trust me?”

(If demons ultimately were motivated to do things that would help them, then he should open the door. To his brethren, a human willingly walking into his clutches was a mark too easy not to lose. But the reason they would want you to come in through the door was nowhere near the same reason he wanted you to. 

If demonic culture didn't have a word for selfish or selfless, then what was this?)

He leaned his weight off the door. 

With his body mostly hidden behind the slab of wood, he carefully cracked the door open, his claws wrapped around the outside, so you would be fed his demonic form gradually. You'd seen the claws before when he'd gouged a siren's eyes out. But your eyes drank in the ashen skin around his features—death incarnate—from the slits of his irises to the spirals of ebony piercing out of his head. 

Your heartbeat took off, galloping wildly as he revealed more and more of himself while you stepped into the bathroom. The thunderous rush of your blood echoed in his own ears; it was a tantalizing sensation. 

There was a nervousness to your movements. Your lips were tight, hands slightly shaky. But above all else, your eyes remained tender and worried, and he might have fallen to his knees if he wasn't clutching the door. 

“Do you want to close the door?” You asked. 

Even now, you wanted to accommodate him. He gave a small nod, but added, “Can you—can you turn around?”

You dipped your head once, then turned your back to him. 

(So much trust… When did he earn all of this? From what did he deserve to have your back to him in this context? He could slit your throat in a blink, but you would throw yourself into Hell if he asked.

If demonic culture didn't have a word for selfish or selfless, then what was this?)

Changmin closed the bathroom door and swallowed everything into darkness once again. He could hear your shallow breathing; you were trying to keep it steady, because you knew he could hear it as clear as a bell, but it wouldn't fool him. 

He took a step closer—then faltered, as he reached a hand out for your shoulder. He retracted his hand to his side. “You can turn around.”

Eyes watched as you slowly turned your body back around. You were fidgeting around with his ring, twisting the dark metal back and forth, as you lifted your eyes up and down his form. 

There was that catch in your breath again. Changmin's shoulders were so tense, he couldn't decide if that was from how high-strung he was or from the energy steadily being spent from his body. He'd probably last about another hour or two before collapsing. 

The bathroom was deafeningly quiet, with only your breaths and heartbeat keeping his insecurities company. He wanted to shrink into the collar of his shirt under your gaze, eyes blown wide as the moon. As you soaked him in, his eyes roved over your face—searching, searching, searching. 

At last, you tried for a soft smile. “You don't scare me.”

“I don't?” But he couldn't smell fear on you, couldn't make out any clear displays of it. He'd looked for them all. Your heartbeat had calmed, but your expression had never lost that something. 

(Was this love?)

You stepped forward once, and then again, until you stood with your toes touching and noses almost brushing. You shook your head and reached up to brush your thumb against his cheekbone. 

So warm… so gentle. 

His fangs gleamed in the dark when his lips parted. “You've been through so much,” he croaked. “Don't I look like them?” Them, the few creatures who had made you go on the run in the first place? Did creatures like him not haunt your waking world and nightmares? How could you bear to sleep next to him at night?

“If you're trying to convince me you're a monster, then it won't work.” Your fingers trailed down the plane of his face and he reached up to grasp onto you before you could retreat. “Does it hurt?”

At that question, he couldn't help the small, raspy laugh that bubbled out of his chest. 

“What?” You asked, the corners of your mouth lifting upward. 

“It's no—” he shook his head, his tongue darting out to slip over his lips. His fingers rearranged around yours and held them close to his chest, his thumb finding the familiar characters of his name wrapped around your digit. “—nothing. I just… you still care.”

Confusion flickered over your face, but was swiftly replaced by something softer. “Of course I still care.”

“I could hurt you.”

“You could have hurt me a long time ago.” But you haven't. 

Changmin swallowed again, relishing in the warmth that radiated from your palm wrapped in his. “No, it doesn't really hurt,” he whispered. “I just can't sustain this form for very long.”

Your eyes shone. “How long?”

“A couple hours at most,” he said, fangs grazing his lip. “I'm trying to wait out the pixie dust—”

“Pixie dust? Aren't you supposed to be flying?” Your grin was flooring, but he managed not to falter. At his deadpan expression, you patted the back of his hand. “Sorry, don't get your horns in a twist.”

“Yn—”

“It was right there; I had to.” 

Even he couldn't suppress the curl of lips for long. He just… Hell, he just loved you. Even if he now had slits for pupils and knives for teeth, nothing could mistake the blatant fondness in his features. His eyes could be pitch black, but he would still find a way to express silently how much he adored you. 

You pursed your lips, the mirth leaving your face for a second. “Do you need blood? How long until the pixie dust wears off?”

“I'm not sure, but I'm not taking your blood.” He sent you a pointed look when you opened your mouth to retaliate. “It's like you have a death wish from the amount of times you've offered me blood. I'm not dying, sweetheart.”

“You could be…”

“Technically, I'm undead—”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, whatever.” Your nose wrinkled up for a second, and then you were wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your face against his shirt. “You’re still Changmin to me. You're still the guy I'm in love with.”

His arms came around your form and he tucked his face into the crook of your neck, careful to keep his horns from hitting you. He suffocated himself on the feel of your skin, the subtle bump in your pulse just beneath the surface. Despite everything, you still trusted him enough to put his teeth so close to your scars. You didn't run away from him, from the true him. 

(Was this love?)

He wanted to hold you here forever. His human. “I love you.”

Your body tensed in surprise, and it nearly chased him away until you squeezed him tighter. He felt your lips against the place his human heart would have been. Changmin always had doubts, but you were so good at calming them. “I know.”

And haven't you always known?

Changmin had known, too, even if he'd searched long and hard for the doubt. All this time of sharing your space, your warmth, your company—he knew. 

a/n: pls remember to reblog + comment if u enjoyed!

night terrors fic / collection

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @luumiinaa @lotties-readings @tinkerbell460 @kaaimins @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @gluion @floatingpluto @winterchimez @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @loveliestfelix @bless-311 @zhaixiaowen @leaz-kpop-life @amourdsr @pxppxrminty @kqyutie @sseastar-main @kxthleen14 @fluorescentloves @mosviqu @bjnet

[yourlittlebunnyy]

honeyed flower -tamlin x reader

masterlist

summary: You're a little fairy and when Tamlin visits you're village, you can't wait to show it to him!

warnings: none this is the fluffiest fluff also lowkey bimbo reader???? idk

wc: 3k

Tamlin knows that the Spring Court is home to fairies.

They are not citizens of his Court, and they are not Faes, but - just like Illryians - they have their own rules and are their own species.

He has never seen one in person, given their secretive and shy nature, nor does he care to do so. He doesn't even know where they reside, or how. What he does know about them he knows from the legends that revolve around them, and there are not many of them. He is aware that they have pearly wings and angelic faces. Their power comes from the earth and flowers. That's how much he knows.

He has never been particularly concerned about them, and since they have never been a problem for him he sees no reason not to give them their space.

It's a warmer afternoon than usual when Tamlin decides to kill some time by riding a little through the woods, taking advantage of the shade of the trees and the cool breeze brought by the streams.

Tamlin has always been fascinated by his court; he would do anything to protect it, to take care of it. He has always loved exploring it, and still after 500 years he always seems to find new places.

Like the one he ends up in now. He's never seen it before, and he wonders how that's possible given the proximity to his palace - it's only a couple of hours' ride away.

It all seems so quiet, but at the same time crowded. He wonders if it's safe, but his instincts don't alert him to anything, and he stays on his horse as he rides further into that little piece of paradise. The blossoming trees gradually fade away, giving way to a sunny valley that smells of roses and cherries. He has never smelled a scent as strong as it is delicious, and that is what drives him forward further.

Around him he begins to smell a sweeter, more honeyed scent, and in the distance he can make out something large and colorful. Flowers. Some flowers - huge ones. Their stems as big as trunks.

Tamlin suppresses a sound of amazement in his throat as he approaches them. As a child he had read books about fairies sleeping in flowers, but he thought it was pure fantasy. Instead, he now stands before them.

There are various kinds and colors of them, and he stares at them in awe. They are all open, and he wonders if they close as the fairies sleep in them, as in his books. They are all empty, though.

The valley goes on for meters and meters, at least a hundred flowers and about twenty different types. However, it is one in particular that attracts his attention, the one from which he derives that scent so honeyed. He gets off his horse and decides to walk there, for fear of disturbing the little creature he hopes there to find.

Your flower is the youngest in your village, born the same day you were born. You are very proud of where you reside, and you take extremely good care of it, making it look tall and well hydrated. It is the color of your wings: a sweet pinkish white, and its pollen smells like honey. It is not as tall as the others, but it is still young. Just like you.

Everyone thinks flowers are just beds for fairies, and in the past they have been cut and used as entertainment, or an instrument of torture. Because the connection there is between a fairy and her flower is very delicate and personal, and it is also the reason why your species has strayed so far from the others. The Spring Court is the best fit for you, and although not in the same way, people here understand your connection to nature, and respect it, leaving you your own space.

If a fairy loses her flower, she loses a piece of herself.

That's why you like to cherish it. And that you think your flower was created by Mother just for you. And, yes, you admit, you might like it more than the others because it allows you to reach the cherry tree right in front, but those are other stories....

Just this afternoon, after you collected pollen from the anthers in a basket and released it down by the river so it can give birth to more flowers, you stood on its petals to rest, and you inevitably fell asleep.

It's not your fault! It is your species that is so ... sleepy. By the way, you need to make a mental note to yourself that you need to wake up before the other village fairies return from the Sacred Harvest, so that you will be ready to help carry the hampers with food.

Tamlin gets closer and closer, until he spots a small female body lying on one of the petals of that giant flower.

A fairy, of course. He cannot see your face, yet he can already ascertain your beauty from your stunning wings: never has he seen a pair so delicate and gorgeous at the same time. The pink veins reflect on the almost transparent white skin, making them glisten under the sun. Instinct makes him reach forward a hand, curious to feel that wonder under his fingertips, but if it is as he remembers from the books, fairies consider wings an extremely private part, and let themselves be touched only by the most trusted. Tamlin doesn't want to be intrusive. Nor does he want to disturb such a creature's sleep.

Just as he turns to leave, an angelic voice calls to him.

"Stranger." Tamlin turns toward you, and after seeing you - he is the High Lord and yet it is almost as if he should be the one to bow before you, before such beauty. Your features are delicate and pure, just like a fairy's. Your skin glows under the spring sun, your wings are tall and proud. The flower shifts under your weight, creating a kind of slide from which you descend, spraying some pollen on you with an oh so sweet scent. You are dressed in a tender little white crocheted dress, and he wonders if you made it yourself.

You notice how he struggles to find the words to answer you, so, as is your nature to help others, you offer him a small hand in greeting. "My name is Y/n. Have you come to visit our lands?" You ask him softly. His eyes stare at your wings, as they move along with your body, reflecting your every emotion. When you saw him, they twitched slightly from the excitement of a new person to meet. And now they retreat slightly, as if shy. Tamlin finds it adorable.

"I just happened to be here, actually."

He says raising his chin toward a horse with a shiny white coat. Your face is frowning slightly.

"Oh. I see." You say turning around, flapping your wings a couple of times in an attempt to fly back into your flower. You are still a little inexperienced in using them, but the older fairies have promised you that in time it will come more naturally to you. You hope so.

"Wait." The one who is only a stranger to you speaks again. "I don't... I wouldn't mind a tour of your village." He smiles at you and your face brightens, your wings twitch again, unable to mask happiness. You love showing your village to strangers, you are very proud of it. You know you're also breaking the rules, but you don't want to thi nk about it.

"Where is everyone else?" Tamlin asks, following you as you retrace his steps to show him your entire territory from start to finish.

"Oh, they are at the Sacred Harvest." You cannot hide the pride you feel in who you are. Tamlin cannot take his eyes off you.

"The Sacred Harvest?" You nod.

"It is an annual harvest we do after a ritual dedicated to the gods. I can't participate because I haven't found a mate yet." You say sadly, then chase away the thought with a wave of your hand and point your finger to the tallest flowers in your village, one blue and the other yellow. "These are the flowers of the Village Chiefs. They are the tallest because they are the oldest."

He doesn't even turn to look at the flowers, his eyes fixed on you. Yet your species, which he didn't care about before, now cuases him so many questions. You are all so interesting and angelic and lovely, he thinks. Or maybe it's just you who are like that.

"I-I'm Tamlin, by the way." He doesn't say this because he wants to sound selfish, but because he wants you to remember him. Because he will remember you for a long, long time.

Your wings droop slightly, as if you are ashamed of yourself for your little mistake. "Oh! I'm so sorry, Tamlin. I didn't mean--I didn't mean to be mean. I hope you will still want to visit my village." And Tamlin is a weak, weak male, because he couldn't say no to you even if you asked him for the moon itself.

"Of course, Y/n." Your wings twitch, and by now he knows what that means: the answer particularly satisfies you. You continue in silence as you take him to the vegetable gardens.

"Here, this is my garden. Since I cannot participate in any rituals, I help the village this way." You say softly and with so much pride as you point out each plant and inform him what it is for or what it is called. It is destabilizing how you are so ready to help others, so attached to your village, you speak of it with such passion.

After your delicious flourishing garden, you take him to the river.

"This is my favorite place ever. I always come here to donate pollen to the wind. And when it's hot, I take a bath. It's so much fun!" You exclaim happily, and Tamlin observes the place. He quickly realizes how it can be your favorite place, and it would probably be his too if he lived in the village like you do.

It is a more secluded than all the other places you have shown him. More reserved. The grass is green and lush with delicate little flowers that remind him of your wings, your eyes, and butterflies flutter contentedly recalling your wings. It smells of pure spring. The water makes a soothing sound and when it meets rocks it splashes droplets on your legs. Tamlin looks at you.

"What's going on?" You ask him curiously. He wonders if you are always so full of life.

"Do you like to bathe here?" He says, smiling. You look at him with big doe eyes, pupils dilated. You love it when they ask you questions, especially about your village.

"Yes! The water is fresh and clean, and it smells like pretty flowers. Sometimes my pets visit me!" At the latter's mention, your eyes sparkle, and your wings spasm a little again.

"You have pets?" At this point Tamlin just wants to see you happy, and if asking you so many things makes you happy, then he will.

"Yes! Violet and Spring, two lovely baby fawns, I love them very very much." You tell them as you look around, as if they might come at any moment. "You're looking at the water a lot, Tamlin. Do you want to take a bath?"

He raises his eyebrows, surprised that you noticed, and he nods, smiling at you.

You take the initiative and step barefoot into the water, your whole body having a little shiver, wings included. Tamlin chuckles before diving in all at once, splashing drops of cold water all over you. He wishes he had at least taken off his shirt, but he didn't want you to be embarrassed.

Your wings squeeze together in an attempt to dry.

"Hey! It's cold."

You say with a laugh.

Tamlin is so caught up in your laughter that he doesn't realize you've dived in, too. You play in the small river for a while before the sun starts to set and the air gets cooler.

"Tam! We have to get back in time to see my second favorite spot."

You tell him while continuing to touch his arm with your finger affectionately. He stands up taking your hand and helping you out of the water before speaking. Your clothes are both soaked and dripping, and his gaze wanders over your body put on display more than before, but you don't seem to notice. "Lead the way."

You don't let go of his hand as you lead him through the flowers again, then go further into the forest, into the trees.

It seems to him that there is nothing there, but following your gaze he finds a tree different from the others. On the highest branches hang lianas that, together with huge leaves that Tamlin does not recognize and wonders if they are not full of magic like the flowers, create hammocks."Over here!" You tell him, pointing to one, approaching yours and jumping on it without too much trouble.

"Are you sure they will hold my weight?" His eyes study well the structure of the hammock you pointed out to him.

"Um...I'm not sure, let me ask the trees."Tamlin squints at your words.To the trees? He already knew from hearsay that fairies possess gifts from nature, but talking to it is a little different.

"Okay. You would have fallen because the leaf is old, but all you had to do was ask nicely! Now they promised me that they will support you." He is confused, but he doesn't want to offend you and sits on it tentatively. You talk about the trees as if they were sentient beings. Nothing happens.

"Lie down!" You incite him. He lies down awkwardly but eventually finds a way to be comfortable. He looks around. Sure, the forest is very beautiful, but he wonders if there is more he is not seeing. As if you have read his thoughts, you inform him that as soon as night falls, you will see fireflies. You say this with such joy, but at the same time whispering. As if you are telling him one of your innermost secrets. He wonders if the other fairies know about this little place.

Tamlin should have been home long ago, now that the sun has gone down. They're probably getting worried. But he doesn't want to end this meeting; he doesn't want to leave.

When the fireflies appear you make a sound of surprise and cover your mouth with your hand, as if you have said something unforgivable. You cannot see Tamlin, but you feel his curious gaze on you. You point to the bright little animals and whisper, hoping he can hear you from how low your tone is, "There they are! Don't make a sound or they'll go away."

You stay there until it's so dark you can't even see where you put your feet. Tamlin is almost afraid of tripping because of the presence of the roots, but you reassure him.

"Don't worry, TamTam. The trees will get us through without making us fall." If he is astonished by your words, he does not show it. Tamlin will never admit it, but he likes the nickname. You have never met a visitor so curious and so--interested in seeing what you have to show him.

You are sad that this meeting must end, but you are sleepy, and soon the first fairies will be back from the Sacred Harvest, too, and you cannot let them see you with a stranger.

You are not allowed to let anyone into the village, only the two Village Chiefs can.

You return near your flower and prepare to say goodbye to Tamlin.

"I wish I could be with you more, TamTam. But soon the Village Chiefs will be back and if they find me with a stranger ... they will exile me." You say worriedly.

A few fireflies illuminate enough around you that they can see your eyebrows arched in a clear sign of sadness. Your big eyes glossy with tears. Your fingers fiddle with each other.

"Are foreigners not allowed in your village?" He asks, and fights the instinct to take your hands in his to stop their agitated movements. You shake your head.

"Only under approval of the Village Chiefs."

This time it is Tamlin's turn to nod.

You remain silent for a while."Before -- before I leave, if I ever come back, how should I get their approval?"He asks and you look at him surprised, then your wings have a sweet spasm and you offer him one of your best smiles."Do you want to come back?"You ask him excitedly.He smiles sweetly at you, before nodding.You are so happy that you hug him and squeeze him tightly, your still damp clothes causing both of you to shiver.Tamlin is a little surprised by your gesture, but he soon recovers and returns the squeeze with equal affection.When you pull away, you're practically jumping on the spot."You have to prove that your heart is pure.But I'm sure your heart is!"I say, still happy about his words. You say giggling, still happy about his words. It takes very little to make you happy, Tamlin thinks. He is a little confused, though. He doesn't know if his heart is pure, given the bad things he has done in the past.

"Y/n... I'm not sure if my heart is." He says looking into your eyes. Your expression becomes apprehensive, a warmth expands in his chest.

"You proved me otherwise today, though. And the trees like you!" You reach out and have to twist your neck, but you manage to give him a kiss on the cheek. Tamlin once again stands petrified at your gesture of affection, and finds your slight blush on your cheeks adorable. Without either of you saying anything, you pull away and go to your flower. You climb on top flying, with some effort, and some pollen sticks to your damp clothes. You turn around and notice that he is still there. You hear the voices of the other fairies in the distance, and you yell at him with your eyes to leave. You wave at him with a motion of your hand, and he waves back, smiling at you before heading toward his horse tied to a tree.

You fall asleep almost immediately, and you can't stop thinking about him. A male so beautiful he takes your breath away, but even better - kind. Pure-hearted.

You can't wait for him to come back. And unbeknownst to you, Tamlin is already mentally marking the way back to visit you again soon.

want to read more about tamlin and fairy? read kind hearted 🩷

[medusapelagia]

04 Back in town

written for @steddieangstyaugust (prompt: Angst with Happy Ending) and @augustwritingchallenge (Prompt: Zombie Apocalypse) Rating: Mature Relationship: Steve & Hopper, Steve/Eddie TW: AU zombies, body horror, injuries, blood, whump, presumed dead character Words: 1221

Steve always knew that he would die alone, fighting some monstrous creatures.

Since the first time he hit a Demogorgon with a nailed bat in Jonathan's Byer living room, he never stopped fighting.

What he wasn't expecting was having to fight people he knew.

Maybe Jason Carver and his brother Christian weren't exactly his best friends, but finding their rotting corpses chasing him while he was looking for supplies in the back of Malvad wasn't exactly on his wishlist.

Steve jumps on a rusty car's roof, holding his backpack tight and looking for an escape. He still has Hopper's gun, but the noise would only attract even more zombies, so he grabs the switchblade from his back pocket and clicks it open, still looking around, weary. If there's something he has learned, it's that towns are way more dangerous than the woods: too many blind corners where zombies can hide.

Jason Carver is already trying to climb on the car when Steve kicks him in the face and his rotten teeth fall on the ground, bouncing like white marbles. Christian is just behind him, and Steve loses no time: he stabs him in the stomach and pushes him to the ground. That’s not the right way to kill them, but the fastest to get rid of them while he runs toward the old movie theater.

The old signboard where Tommy wrote some slurs against Nancy in another life, is dangling, so Steve runs toward it, planning to use the slope at his vantage to get on the roof. He kisses the black and red guitar pick around his neck for good luck and jumps from the car's roof to the concrete before sprinting toward the theater. The signboard cracks loudly before breaking in half under Steve's weight, but he manages to cling to the ledge of the theater, with his legs dangling in the air.

A sudden burning pain makes him scream, and for a moment his left hand slips and moves instinctively toward his injured leg. Christian Carver is standing under him, reaching out toward Steve's legs with his discolored arms. Steve kicks him hard, freeing his leg from the zombie's hold, and with the adrenaline still pumping in his veins, he pulls himself up on the movie theater's roof, rolling on his back and finally catching his breath.

The Carver brothers are still growling, and Steve knows that the smell of his blood will attract every fucking zombie still in town. He's utterly fucked. And Hopper will be furious. He told him not to go in town alone, but El was sick and even some expired meds are better than no meds at all. 

Steve rummages in his backpack: going to the school's infirmary was a good call, he found some gauze and a few meds, but Melvald was a disaster. He knew it was one of the first places that got ransacked. He grabs a half-empty bottle of water, drinks some, and pours some on his leg. It looks nasty.

Fuck.

With a sigh and trembling hands, he takes the walkie-talkie from the backpack and turns it on. It slowly cracks to life while the growls under the theater get higher and louder. How long till those monsters find a way to get on the roof?

"Hey Hop," he says, pushing the button.

"Steve? Steve, where the hell are you?"

"In town."

"How many times did I tell you-"

"Got El's meds."

"Ok. Ok. Now get your ass back home. It’s going to get dark soon."

"Don't think I will. Christian Carver got me good."

"Steve." 

Steve can hear Hopper grit his teeth, "How long? We could still-"

"I'm in Hawkins and it's getting darker. No reason to risk it. I'll leave the backpack somewhere safe here on the movie theater roof. Come and get in the morning, ok?"

"Steve."

Steve whimpers softly. He has some gauze in his bag but he doesn't want to waste it. He's going to die on that roof anyway and the others will need it more than him.

“Sorry Dad,” he says, before turning off the radio and pulling the batteries out.

No goodbyes. Steve hates those. 

The throbbing pain from his leg keeps him awake, while the sun slowly sets. It’s not a bad way to go, he thinks to himself.

He’s drinking some water when he hears the noise of a helicopter propeller.

He must be hallucinating: gas is long gone. But the noise gets closer and closer, and a bright yellow light blinds him for a moment. A rope falls from the helicopter and someone dressed all in black climbs down with ease. The unknown man gets closer to him, and Steve shivers in fear. Maybe he's not so ready to die after all.

The man moves slowly, studying Steve's face before bending next to his leg, "How long?" he asks, staring at the bloody injury.

"Hours."

"Shit! Shit! Shit!"

The voice seems so painfully familiar.

"Ok, we can still take you to Owens and-"

"Eddie?'' Steve asks, confused. The last time Steve saw Eddie he gave him his guitar pick before leaving with his band to make it big. And then the world split in two and people were turned into zombies.

"Hey, big boy. You always had a wicked sense of humor. Now that I finally found you, you play me a trick like this?"

"Sorry, Ed. Didn't mean it."

Eddie grabs the bottle of water, helping him drink a few sips.

"I'm going to take you away from here," Eddie says, helping Steve stand, who whines loudly even if Eddie helps him hold his weight. He tightens the rope around Steve's middle and holds himself with his arms while the crew on the helicopter pulls them up.

As soon as they are on the helicopter someone yells, "Are you fucking crazy? He's infected!"

"I wasn't gonna let him die on that fucking roof alone, ok Gar?" Eddie replies, while a dark-skinned man, Jeff if Steve’s memory isn’t wrong, points a flashlight on Steve's leg.

"There's no bite." He whispers, pulling the skin while Steve grits his teeth and Eddie and Gareth keep bickering in the back, "Hey, morons! There's no bite! Just a very nasty scratch!"

"Are you serious?" Eddie jumps next to Jeff, staring at Steve's wounded leg. The cuts are deep and need a very thorough cleaning, but if there's no bite.

"I knew you were a lucky son of a bitch, Harrington!" Eddie says in a jubilant tone, hitting Steve’s shoulder who whimpers and immediately asks for forgiveness.

“El. I have medicine for El in the backpack.” Steve tries to explain, while Jeff is still trying to clean the cut as well as he can.

“We’ll find them and we’ll take them home. For the moment all you have to do is rest and recover.” Jeff says, wrapping Steve’s injured leg.

“Home?” Steve asks, confused.

“Dear Steve Harrington, you’re now a member of the Nina Project Community.” Eddie grins, sitting on the floor so that Steve can rest his head on his legs.

Eddie brushes some sweaty strands of hair away from Steve’s head with his fingers, “Don’t worry, Stevie. Everything will be fine.”

And if Eddie is still alive and he found a safe place to call home, maybe there’s still hope.