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lemon-popp · 6 months ago

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Spending time with the Sith: episode iii

Pairing: Qimir x Black! female oc

Warnings: swearing, NSFW smut (intense making out, fingering in the pool), fluff, mention of cancer and death. PROBABLY GRAMMAR AND TYPING ERRORS (not proof read)

Word count: 4,9k

masterlist

The sun has risen, the fiery ball shining its yellow hue through the length of the cave, giving it a dreamy glowy haze. The light creeps deeper in the cave, making its way to the bedroom in which Luna laid peacefully on her back. The wrapped messy bun that once sat atop of her head was now let loose due to the lack of a bonnet and her insufferable tossing and turning last night. Deep brown curls fell across her face and sprawled out against the pillow she used. As if her faced was framed by a chocolate cumulus cloud. Her body stretch out like a starfish, one leg hanging off the bed and out the duvet, the other bent like a hook. This was the best sleep she has gotten in a long time.

The planet's main light source finally reaches Luna's eyes, begging her to get up and start the day. She answers to nature's alarm clock with fluttering eyes, adjusting to the change of the darkness of behind her lids. A yawn escapes her as she stretches, a loud groan escaping her mouth. She was sure she had sleep marks littering her face as she sat up straight, immediately noticing the lack of presence of a certain someone. The spot next to her was vacant, Qimir no where to be found.

Luna furrows her brows with confusion, wondering if she illusioned him climbing into the bed last night. Conjuring the mahogany scent he carried after his bath in the pool. The warmth she felt radiating from him even though they were easily three feet apart. He was there. There's no doubt. Then why dd he leave?

Was I snoring? kicking him? Or worse...what if I stunk? I mean I haven't taken a decent shower since I was home.

Luna grimaced, lifting her arms up to take a shameful whiff of her pits. The smell wasn't awful, definitely manageable, but compared to his polished state last night it was probably way more noticeable. Luna cringed hard, noting that she must take a dip in that pool of his before being met with him again.

With one final stretch, Luna shimmies off the bed, lighting testing if she could put more pressure on her foot. Nope. The defeated girl sighs. Although she didn't want to admit it, hopping into the bedroom and changing clothes with one foot was a pretty demanding activity that she didn't want to go through for the rest of today. Especially with her helper randomly running off like this.

Luna's eyes scan his cluttered room, filled with various trinkets from different planets that gave the assumption of his being well traveled, searching for something to use to help her walk. After, a couple look throughs, her eyes catch something. A cane.

ha, gotcha

Luna hobbles her way to the wooden cane that leaned against the stone wall across from the bed. Dust littered the handle signifying its obviously very frequent use. The young woman slender fingers wrap around the handicap tool, feeling the smooth naturally carved ridges.

perfect

Luna leans on the cane, using it as a crutch to freely move herself about the stoned home, unbothered to change back into her tactical gear since she was alone apparently. Her short stature limped to the main room clad in her black tank top and matching shorts that rode up high on her plump butt.

Luna walks toward the stove, wondering if there was more of that soup to eat for breakfast. To no luck, the pot was empty causing a disappointed sigh to leave her lips.

i’ll make sure to ask for the recipe before i leave…if he ever returns

Her mind trails off of her growing hunger going back to the man that took her in yesterday. Where had he run off? How come he trusted her to be alone in his home. She could snoop. Steal his valuables.

Was he stupid? or did he just trust me?

“Trust is a strong word, young one,” Qimir’s deep, timber voice echoes off the walls into Luna’s not-so-sharp ears, causing her to jump. Her hand clutches at her chest feeling the race of her heart that thumps from being startled in such a way. Taking her time to catch her breath before processing what Qimir just said.

How did he-What? Did he just answer my question? How? How did he know?

Qimir smiles, with his signature smirk, from the entrance of the cave, his muscular arms crossing, taking in the girl’s confused face as her mind races. The man has been standing there for a while, watching Luna make her way to the stove in her undergarments that made her look ravishing. The black spandex shorts clinging onto the curve of her ass like a second skin. Ass that bounced gently with every crippling step she took. A part of Qimir. A rather large part, wants nothing more than to shove his face in it. But that wasn’t really appropriate at the moment.

So instead, he stood there broodingly, using the Force to read her mind. To gauge her true intentions. There was a an initial doubt in his mind when it came to her, that temporarily washed away with her (possible) ‘mom has cancer’ crying act. But the unsure feeling that was subdued quickly crawled back to the forefront of his mind upon waking up at the crack of dawn.

Qimir rushed out of bed, a strange feeling rumbling in his gut telling him to search the immediate area for possible jedi. He still believed this was a trap.

A girl this perfect. A heart so sweet, but careful fortified with fearlessness. A face and body that could entangle any man, woman or creature in a dangerous web. She’s too good to NOT be a trap.

After hours of trekking he found nothing. They were still the only ones on this planet, but he still had one more trick up his sleeve to find out her true reason for being here.

“I know. I just—that’s just how i felt,” Luna regained her composure with a grip on her cane, bringing Qimir back to the present. Instead of overthinking and coming up with impossible realities, Luna chalks up his strange statement to a recall of her sleepy words last night.

“I trust you” The words from the last night rushing back into her memory that Qimir reads.

If she was working with the Jedi she would know that he was reading her mind. Hell, she would even attempt to fortify her mind. Not give him easy access like an open book on a table.

Maybe she’s really not an enemy.

“Anyway, you bring any food back?,” Luna fills the silence with a large expecting smile. Hoping that he had returned with the ingredients to make that delicious goopy soup.

Qimir rolls his eyes reluctantly letting her brightness infect him. The way her lips curled into the smile, showing the straight teeth she had, it made his heart flutter. He reached into the bag he carried, grabbing a yellow banana to which he tosses across the cave in her direction, watching her stumble to catch.

“hopefully that’ll hold you over until dinner,” Qimir officially makes his way deeper into the main room. Dropping the bag that hung from his bouldery shoulders with a loud thud to the ground, taking a seat on the lonely chair. He gazed up at the woman in front of him who held the fruit in her grasp, clearly disappointed that this was all there was to eat.

“How’s your ankle?,” Qimir points his shoe covered foot towards her, motioning to her injury. Luna shakes her head slightly taking a bite from the banana.

“I don’t know. The pain keeps going in and out. It’s annoying,” The gorgeous woman sighs, clearly defeated. She wanted nothing more than to be better already and get her hell out of here.

Qimir takes in a deep breath hoping to ease the churning feeling in his stomach. Guilt rush over him from knowing that he could heal her with a quick graze of his fingers if he really wanted to. I mean, It’s not like he didn’t want to, the selfless part of him truly did want to. But his self-serving side overshadowed that thought.

If he were to share his power with her, it would require him to reveal who he really was. For her to accept him. To accept the arguably terrible things he’s done. To give him her trust. And for him to accept that trust.

He wasn’t ready to do that.

She’s just gonna have to wait until nature takes its course and heals her.

“You’ll be healed soon. I do have medicine,” The seated man swallowed trying to ease the sickening sensation that brewed in his stomach. Although he felt this way, Qimir did a successful job at acting cool and smug like usual.

Luna rolls her eyes at his nonchalant statement, heat rising from the passion of her chest to almond of her eyes.

“Soon?! I need to be healed now! She’s out there waiting for me,” She wailed with tears starting to stream out of her eyes, down the plump apples of her cheeks. Staining the brown porcelain skin of hers. Voiced quivering as her tone was now raised to a soft yell. Even when upset her voice still sounded sweet like a perfect jar of honey.

Qimir’s heart clenched, but he stayed silent. Unsure of what to do to help her. To soothe her. They meet each other’s eyes, sharing a look of sorrow before Luna’s suddenly becomes overcome with anger that is followed by her ‘storming’ towards the cave’s exit.

“And you’re off to?,” The powerful man’s eyes never left her, following her movements that seemed to be leaving.

Luna stops briefly.

“I’m gonna wash myself. care to join,” Her voice drastically less sweet than before now laced with malice as she spoke sarcastically, mocking his words from last night. It hurt Qimir at first, confusing him.

What did i do? I didn’t twist her ankle. Granted, i could heal her, but she doesn’t know that.

Thinking quickly, Qimir uses the Force to get into her mind once again. The words lingered in her head, feeling bad for the delivery but the statement holding true. She was on her way to take a dip in his ocean pool, hopefully to relieve herself from the intense emotions that filled her. Another statement held true as well. Well it wasn’t a statement but rather an invitation. Despite her awkward response to his inquiry last night, part of her wished she answered with confidence. That reflected what her body ached. So she mocked him. half doing it out of spite, the other genuinely open for him to join.

The ache that tortured Qimir eased upon acquiring this information. If she wanted him to join, he’ll join. It was the least he could do for her if he wasn’t going to heal her.

Qimir peels himself off the chair, sauntering his way to the same direction Luna has gone, immediately seeing her in the middle of the shore, back turned to him as she stared at the glistening blue water.

Luna begins with a drop of the cane, the thudding sound muted by the sand. Her delicate hands then grabs the bottom of her black tank, pulling it over her head. Her curls being ruffled even more with this action. Next were her black shorts which she climbed out of awkwardly, trying to avoiding damaging her foot even more.

The girl now stood bare. Only her backside unknowingly exposed to Qimir who stares unabashedly. Admiring the deep line that started between her defined shoulder blades and stopped right above the dimples of her back. Her ass even more perfect outside the shorts, so round and plump, like a nice pillow.

The extraordinary sight afar has a dramatic affect on our man standing ten feet away. All the blood that was used to function quite literally his whole body, rushed to his appendage that now strained against his briefs. He groans out quietly to himself to not disturb the clueless lady as he rubs the growing ache.

Luna feels the breeeze blowing against her nipples, causing her to shiver slightly before taking her first gentle, limping, steps into the water. The soft liquid wrapping around her like a warm blanket, her body melting into it, almost becoming one with the powerful element. Her eyes close, focusing on keeping her breathing steady to keep her emotions at bay. But not even this relaxing bath could help. Visions of her mom flashed through her mind. Visions of her worrying about Luna’s whereabouts. Worrying if her daughter was dead. The worrying ultimately worsening her condition, expediting the punch in date.

Luna’s chest tightens around her pounding heart, constricting the vital organ. Her throat closing slowly as if hands were clutching tightly to it. making it hard for her to breathe. Her head swaying from dizziness, until a large, calloused hand lands on her shoulder, pulling her back to the real world. Her breath hitches in the tight airway of her esophagus.

Luna’s head glances back at the hand that touched her, surprised that Qimir followed her especially after her tone. His towering presence burned behind her, a realization run through her mind that they were both bare. She wasn’t uncomfortable though by this realization though. Just surprised.

Qimir notes how her body slightly relaxes at his touch, fully expecting her to probably lash out again. He sighs, still seeing how her overthinking tormented her endless mind.

Sure he had no clue how it feels to go through a pain quite like this. To have a mother at all. Let alone a mother you’ve spent your whole life with who you’re about to lose.

Luna drops her head in defeat, letting drops of salty tears drop into the large cast of salty water as she cried silently. Qimir takes the opportunity to help her clean as her. His large hands cup together, gathering a pool of water to which he gently pours down her back, washing any grime that littered her deep skin. The water trickles down the line of her back. A line he desired to lick.

Qimir stood behind her. Decorated with perfectly carved muscles, strength used to kill anyone who cross him. However, the strength that was shown right now was his restraint.

Qimir has seen countless of women in a similar fashion. A fun past he did have indeed, but none of them had an effect quite like this on him. A woman suggesting anything remotely related to sex, he would pounce on her. Taking them quick and roughly, fulfilling his own pleasure. Although this was…different. Yes, he found her alluring, which was an understatement. He craved almost nothing more than to ruin her. key word being almost, what he craved more was taking care of her. protecting her.

His fingers massages her skin with his nimble fingers, starting at the nape of her neck climbing up to the curly thicket of her hair. His left hand takes a handful of her thick hair, making a makeshift ponytail to full expose the length of her neck. The other unused hand graze up her damp arm tantalizingly slow up to her shoulder, feeling her buttery skin on his tips.

The little action setting Luna’s skin on fire.

Qimir bends slightly at his waist, bringing his face next to hers, his pink lips centimeters away from the conch of her ear. Light breaths escapes his lips, breathes that make contact with her exposed neck. Her glossy eyes close to full take in his touch. To focus all of her senses on the gentle touch Qimir gave her.

“you will see your mom again,” Qimir’s deep voice vibrates into the shell of her ear, the affirmation soaring through her mind. A light smile grows across Luna’s face as she appreciates the reassurance, especially after just beating herself up minutes ago.

“you promise?,” She whispers with a rasp that resulted from how much she has been crying. Her eyes remained close fearing that once she’d open them her mind would go back to forging false realities of her mother. So Luna keeps them closed, opting for the relaxing touch of Qimir’s gentle but possessive grip on her.

do i promise??

In the very short time Qimir has known Luna, he has definitely grown to care for her. Even in his paranoia that she was a Jedi spy, he still took her in. Fed her. Offered his bed. Which terrified him. Caring for someone terrified him. Because caring led to betrayal. Caring leads to loss. it could lead to love…which, in his case, was a deep vulnerability. Him promising was a test, a test to see how far he’d go for her, how much he cared for this girl.

Qimir stayed silent to avoid answering, using the tips of his fingers that grazed down the side of her body to distract from the unanswered question. His large vascular hand untangles from her curls and breaks through the surface of the water, following the path of his other hand. His palms descend lower and lower down her body, feeling the deep curve of her waist, before landing on the protrusion of her round hips. The digits on his hand grip tightly, not one tight enough to cause the girl pain, but one that would require a skilled maneuver to escape.

Qimir twists Luna by this advantage point, forcing the beaut to now face him. A gasp emits from her lips, stumbling from the quick and sudden movement which inadvertanty send her falling into his chest. A fall that she breaks with gentle hands placed firmly on his defined chest. Feeling his hammering heart beat.

As her wet miniature hands made contact with his body, it was almost as if an electrical current punctured his heart and traveled down south. Inflating his cock. The hands that once had a gentle grasp on Luna’s hips to become much firmer as he pulled her lower half away from his growing appendage.

Luna's eyes climbs up the man’s upper body slowy, unabashedly taking her time to take in the detail of his olive skin and the scars that littered him. She wondered where they all came from, considering that he lives alone on this planet.

He probably hasn’t ALWAYS lived here, Luna. The man has a past.

The girl shoos off the thought, continuing her visual climb until she finally meets her destination. His eyes. His eyes that were already closed on her. Eyes that peered through his perfectly fallen strands of black hair that tickles her forehead. Eyes that were clouded, laced with a feeling way stronger than lust at the moment. Eyes that make Luna gasp.

Their eye contact doesn’t waver. Even with the fact that the water they stood idle in was crystal clear. Allowing a HD view to the others full front side. What Qimir’s v-line was pointing to underneath those black pants. Or the taut breasts that was covered by a flimsy tank top. Neither of their eyesight faltered. The passion and the intensity from the stare being more than enough for them.

Qimir gives her his infamous smirk, one that intimidates many, but was currently being used to hide the absolute control this woman has over him.

The left hand that was previously placed on her hip, was now under her jawline, his thumb caressing the silky skin of her face. Wiping the remaining streak of tears that stained her golden skin before placing his thumb flat on her pillowy full lips. Fighting to urge to part them, sticking it in, or anything else.

“Of all my years. You are the most beautiful woman i have ever met,” Qimir’s drops his voice down to whisper, as if it was a secret, as they literally weren’t the only two here right now. Similar to the affect of Luna’s touch on Qimir’s chest, The words the leave his mouth enters her hear and immediately reaches her womanhood which was already throbbing from the moment Qimir entered the pool. In an attempt to ease the pulsating, Luna squeeze her thighs together causing a soft moan to escape in turn before she could catch it.

“What do you say…when someone gives you a compliment?,” Qimir’s head dipped lower, finding the crook between Luna’s shoulder and neck and buring himself there. His breath tickling her with every spoken word. Dominance oozed out of him so naturally, dominance that lured Luna in like a worm to a fish. His pink lips first pressed gently on her thumping artery, laying continuous pecks up the length of her neck to her jaw, and across her cheek, just barely missing her lips.

He knows what he’s doing

“Than—Thank you,” Not only can Luna barely breathe, but apparently she could barely speak. Stumbling over her words once again like an idiot.

Qimir’s smiles grows, his control slipping completely out of his grasp due to her innocent stuttering. The wide gaze of her almondy eyes that sent him down a spiral and without hesitation he kisses her.

Their lips crashed into each other that the waves did in the distance to the rock shore. The feeling of Qimir’s lips on Luna made her lightheaded as he kiss with such vigor and experience. His hands gripping the back of her neck, keeping her in place as if she was trying to escape. Kissing him was a feeling like no other, a feeling she didn’t know she was missing out from all this time. The way his free hand caressed her body under the water, completely avoiding the places she deeply craved that he touch out of respect. The way he nibbled at her juicy lips and then licked them to soothe the pain. Luna was already fully at his mercy.

Qimir’s now busy hands, allowed for Luna’s hip to float freely in the water, which of course gravitates towards his body leaving no space inbetween. Their bodies clashed together, similar to their lips. Luna’s breast pressed tightly on Qimir’s brute pecs as she wraps her arms around his neck. Qimir’s cock know fully laid flat against her soft stomach, heat radiating off of him like a furnace.

The horny woman gasps at the feeling of his length on her, daring not to glance down to see just how big he really was. Instead using the sense of touch the feel how his base started at the top of her mound and the tip ended well above her belly button.

of course he’s big. i mean look at him. look at those arms.

His hands travel down the length of her back resting on the rounding of her ass as he grabs a handful with no warning. All while still devouring her stunning face.

Loud moans overtake what once was a quiet, relaxing evening as Luna’s body is sent into overdrive. Her skin burned as if gasoline was poured on her and she was sent to the sun. Her mind was foggy like and early morning in the forest, forced to only think about Qimir. She ached for him. She wanted him.

Luna breaks the kiss to flip around back to the position they started in. Qimir stands there partially upset at her abrupt ending of their make out sesh, but that quickly subsided when her plump ass push perfectly against his dick. A deep groan leaving his pink lips to let her know as such. He has the desire to insert himself from behind, taking her passionately in the water. But before he has the chance to, Luna grabs both of his hands, placing one of her full breast and the other on her throbbing mound.

Qimir’s eyes widened at the girl’s assertion, surprised that she had this confidence in her because the blabbering girl she was earlier didn’t show that one bit. His shock, however, faded away quickly, being replaced by determination. She had officially given him permission to touch her intimates. To fully please her. To claim her.

Qimir’s finger begin to work on the bundle of nerves down south. His middle finger drawing precise, agonizingly slow circles around her clit. Her knees buckle at his action, but it brought back up with a squeeze of her nipple.

“This is what you wanted pretty girl? For me to touch you like this?,” His teasing words makes her grind into his pleasing hand. She was already so close. So close to relieving all the aching she felt. Starting from the ache of her mother’s health, to the literal ache of her ankle, to the ache between her legs caused by a stranger she just met yesterday.

what am i doing? A doubting thought rushes through her head.

“You’re relaxing. Let me help you,” Qimir’s voices breaks through, answering her question once again. Her eyebrows furrow in wonder, mind completely unfocusing from the magical work going on under the water.

okay, once was a coincidence, but twice now? Something is up—

Luna’s thoughts were cut off abruptly by Qimir’s finger entering the hole that was already begging to be filled. He took his time inserting one finger, unsure of how far she was willing to take this and the amount of experience she had. A pleased squeal that escaped her lips give him reassurance as he continues to pump in and out, now using his thumb to rub her clit.

A knot formed in her stomach that was getting ready to snap, her precious moans growing louder and more frequent. Hands reaching to grab Qimir’s bulging biceps for balance.

“Q—Qimir. I can—i can’t. I’m cumming,” Luna buckles as an orgasm rips through her, tears running down her eyes, but this time not in sorrow. Her shaken body grows limp by the second, the grip she had on Qimir still lingered but very weak.

Their chests heave in unison, reeling from the events that had just occurred. Luna, finally able to catch her breath, stands dazed in the water with Qimir still wrapped around her. His single digit still inside of her warm cunt.

He didnt move. Still recovering from the hearing her angelic, heavenly moans. From how she placed his hands on her warm cunt and how she quivered under his touch. From the warm feeling of her wrapped around his finger, how he wanted nothing more than to feel her tightly hugging his cock that still throbbed for her.

The girl leaned her head back, resting gently on his chest with her eyes closed, her long eyelashes touching the top of her apple cheeks. She was in complete bliss and Qimir observes this, taking in the new glow this girl possessed. His heart swells knowing that he completed his task. He made her relax. He eased her mind.

Qimir slowly removes his lonely finger from her womanhood, afraid to disturb her from this pure state and lifts her up bridal style. A shocked sound leaves her as her body was now fully out the water, exposed to the breezy air, but Qimir pays no mind. His eyes stay trained on hers as he walks them towards the shore, neither of them speaking a word, a comfortable silence fillings the air as he wades through the water.

The couple finally reach the shore to which he gracefully places Luna down, avoiding her hurt foot. The sun was near set, golden hour doing its work on the gorgeous man that stood in front of her. The water no longer a barrier, his sculpted body was now in full display, the orange sun defining every shadow of his abs, the veins of his arms and the monsterous size of his dick.

that was what was underneath the water?!

The flutters start to make a return, but are quickly pushed to the side.

don’t get greedy now. this was just a one time thing. he probably only did it out of sympathy anyway.

Qimir reaches behind him, grabbing a cream robe that was laid out neatly on a nearing boulder. He opens the linen fabric towards Luna’s direction, offering to put it on for her. Her eyes meet his. The dark clouds that once lived in his irises vanished, replaced with a genuine softness that makes her feel…safe.

She turns around accepting his offer and he slides the thin material over her arms, bringing it to hang at her shoulders. His fingers tickling her skin the entire time, His breath lingering at her neck.

Luna takes over the finishing touches of tying the robe and in the meantime, Qimir wraps himself in one of his own. They both matched. Except one was perfectly fitted, tailored made and the other one extremely oversized. The sleeves ended way past her hands and then hemmed end nearly went over her knees. She looked like a nun.

Luna turns around to face Qimir with a smile and a funky pose, modeling the unique fitting robe. A laugh brewing in his chest at seeing how his clothes swallowed her whole. A laugh that is stifled, offering a humorous smile instead.

“Okay, let’s get you inside. I can hear your stomach growling,” Qimir shakes his head at the girl as he wraps him muscular arm around her waist to help her back into the cave.

episode iv

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thebekerslegecy · 5 months ago

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ninibeingdelulu · 7 months ago

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Hidden ✧

Plot: You’re the president’s daughter he came to rescue, and you both need to hide in a small hole.

A/N: the president’s daughter reader is back y’all yeahhh

As your frantic footfalls echoed through the derelict cabin's dimly lit halls, Leon's calloused grip clamped vice-like around your wrist.

Forcibly dragging your stumbling frame towards a promising crevice of safety tucked along the far interior wall.

In one fluid series of motions, he shoved you into the musty shadows of that nook before barricading the open space with an ancient wardrobe wedged against the crumbling sheetrock.

Effectively sealing you both inside that makeshift sanctuary from whatever evil forces still lurked beyond those creaking timbers...

"Stay low and keep those pretty lips zipped if you know what's good for you," Leon's gravelly baritone hissed out mere inches from your face through the suffocating blackness enveloping your curled forms.

Just the thought of whatever merciless terrors he was willing to unleash in order to uphold this mission's integrity sent a tremulous shiver rattling through your shoulders to silently obey.

Until that spoiled, entitled nature of yours simply couldn't resist one final petulant sigh of displeasure over the cramped captivity.

"There's barely any room at all to-"

Before you could finish that complaint, a single broad palm slammed over the part of your lips while his forearm pinned you firmly against the damp wall.

Body caging yours in as the former RPD officer issued a scathing reprimand on a rough whisper skimming along your jaw.

"Shut up if you want to live, princess ..."

Within the next breath, you were being hauled up against his rock-solid frame until your backside suddenly landed against the cradle of those corded thighs wrapped around your waist.

Heat instantly prickling under your cheeks at such scandalous proximity to those taut muscles bulging beneath his battle-worn fatigues.

"What are you doing ?" you indignantly mumbled against the leather-scented palm still locked over your gasping mouth as Leon shifted and adjusted your positioning atop his bunching arousal trapped beneath those cargos.

"Just giving you what you wanted, princess..." he rumbled out on a hissed breath fanning your hairline. "More space to wiggle that restless body around in without blowing our cover entirely."

In a true testament to Leon's pragmatic stoicism, he simply pulled your squirming form flush against his torso once more.

Then wrapped one solid appendage around your ribs to silently signal he'd tolerate no further fussing over the matter.

Crossing your arms with an indignant huff, you were left silently stewing about the fact that at least in this shadowed intimacy...he wouldn't be able to witness the furious bloom of crimson staining your cheeks at such close proximity.

But of course, your pins-and-needles started kicking in from supporting all your weight on those throbbing legs less than a minute later - leaving you fidgeting ceaselessly to find a more comfortable position once again.

A deep, guttural hiss of air sliced past your cheek as Leon's rock-hard abdominals spasmed beneath your restlessly shifting weight - only realizing belatedly that your churning rear end kept grinding against the rapidly swelling ridge suddenly tenting the front of his heavy-duty garments.

Instantly freezing in shock when you craned your neck up to search those inscrutable features hovering just overhead...

Without warning, a powerful hand was cupping the nape of your skull while calloused fingertips threaded sharply through your tangled locks to jerk your focus frontwards again.

"Don't move. A muscle" came his sandpaper growl against your temple - syllables nearly lost amidst the roaring drumbeat pulsing beneath your own frantic pulse points as your thighs instinctively clenched around his.

Too shaken to disobey, you simply swallowed back your shuddery gasps and meekly nodded.

Practically tasting those electrifying waves of primal aggression rolling off his hulking frame while he waged whatever internal war against himself.

Close enough in the darkness for the heat gusting from his flaring nostrils to fan across your cheeks in tandem with each strained exhale.

And then...there was nothing but bristling tension coiling tighter and tighter between your suspended forms until even Leon's very bones seemed to thrum with it - scarcely allowing either of you to cycle air into your lungs.

At least until the droning swarm beyond your flimsy barricade quieted for more than a few minutes' respite, signaling your opportunity to extract yourselves from this debauched tangle of limbs.

"Break’s over, ...use your feet and shove that dresser out of the way."

Leon finally ground out once that punishing grip eased from the back of your skull.

"We need to get moving before I give those freaks an even bigger reason to hunt us down."

Bobbing a rapid nod, you braced your calves against the barrier until it gave way enough to slither back outside into the fading twilight hues.

Every breath hitching raggedly into your constricted lungs as the dark, woodsy scents finally chased away the aroma of leather and gunpowder consuming your senses.

From there, Leon slipped back into that hardened survivalist on autopilot - all traces of those searing undercurrents wiped clean from his expression save the barely perceptible flush tingeing those razor-etched cheekbones.

So you had no choice but to fall back in step behind his long, purposeful strides guiding you deeper into the night's embrace without so much as sparing you a sidelong glance this time.

"Come on, princess...we lost enough time back there." His signature endearment for you practically snarled out with customary disdain.

"The rendezvous coordinates aren't getting any closer dawdling around like this."

Rolling your eyes, you simply complied in silence with those unspoken orders.

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marigoldenblooms · 10 months ago

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Unica Semper Avis - Chapter 1

Pairing: Cleric!Wanda x Fem!AvianShifter!Reader x MonsterHunter!Natasha

Prompt: Ever since you’ve come of age, you’ve never been able to stop yourself from transforming into a monster. Whenever the sky would dim with a New Moon, you’d ravage the world with a fury unknown by many. Such is the bane existence of your species. This time, however - something was different. Now, you need help. On the feeble doorstep of the so-called ‘Spirit Healer,’ you found yourself both at the mercy of a cleric, and of a monster hunter’s blade. Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

MINORS DNI - 18+

TW/General Tags: No mention of Y/N, slow burn, stranger to lovers (Wanda), enemies to lovers (Natasha), eventual smut (lord have mercy), Swearing, Fantasy violence, occasional descriptions of light body horror during transformation, slight self harm, slight restraint, angst, fluff, will add tags as they appear!

Chapter Warnings: Angst, canon-level violence, use of medieval weapons, body horror description in transformation, magic use, slight dissociation/self harm, restraint, fluff (for five seconds), R is a simp, so is W, N is not here to play, etc.

A/N: I’ve been working on this next chapter ever since the previous. Chapter two is coming along quickly as well! I want to keep a bit of a backlog for my longer fics, so updates will be as frequent as I can manage. The name established in this chapter for R will be used sparingly, but I loved what Missmonsters2 did with Between the Lines when I read it months ago, and thought it’d be pertinent until nicknames/pet names are established (and for as long as I can avoid conversation where names are necessary).

R’s monster form brought to you by bearded vulture inspiration! Feel free to imagine your own version of avian horror to your heart’s content. Enjoy, y’all!

Word Count: 3.1k - Read Length: 11 minutes, 18 seconds. Pictures aren't mine, credit to their owners!

~~~ The healer’s home was nothing short of overwhelming.

Multi-colored knick-knacks were strewn on every surface, perched below gatherings of drying, braided flowers which hung from the rafters. Beneath your feet, woven rugs of alternating sizes dotted the cabin’s cool wooden floors, like islands between a chilled sea of timber. The front door lead further into a sitting room, offering glimpses into a small, quaint looking kitchen, adorned with a single well-worn table and chair. Within that same place, a large pot was held still on the counter by wisps of scarlet magic, another more opaque plume coaxing a wooden spoon to stir whatever was inside.

Paintings hung along every wall, although you could never get a full glance at one, as though they’d subtly shift and change muses whenever you’d look away. The sound of a shutting door would heighten your senses enough to break from the scenery, turning on your heels to face the home’s owner once again. She’d pry at you with a half-smile, and you’d solidify your gaze at the floor before her eyes could have the chance to meet yours.

“What brings you to my home?” She’d question evenly, her words a pleasing rasp- smooth molasses which could easily cloud your senses if you allowed her to. You’d see her form move to the side of you in your peripheral, yet you’d remain still, your stare continuing to bore a hole into her carpet.

Wordlessly, you’d tug at your shawled sleeve to show the back of your arm. Running along the skin’s expanse were thin ridges, pin feathers prickling beneath taut flesh. A light down speckled your skin in odd patches, consolidated mostly on your neck and shoulders for now. Your hair had begun to fleck and grow waxy and silkish, akin to dense ostrich feathers, tousled from your trek to her abode. You’d watch the ground as her shadow would shift around you, a curious tsk showcasing her intrigue.

You wouldn’t see her raised expression, eyebrows furrowed as she’d take your wrist without warning, raising it up so she could see the indentation better in the light. She’d drop your arm as soon as she’d grabbed it, falling limply to your side, and her smooth voice would threaten to carry you off again. “Fascinating..your affliction isn’t something I’ve seen recently.”

“Can you help?” You’d mumble, the few phrases coming to you sounding choked from lack of use, and you could hear the healer’s grunt at your lackluster response. You’d swallow thickly, trying to find the words to explain all that you were, but none arrived. She’d circle around you once more, and before you could flinch away, would capture your chin between her thumb and forefinger, wrenching it to make you look at her- green irises narrowing as you’d shut yours, unwilling to look her in the eye. You’d half expect her grip to be cold like the Matron’s, but her touch’s pleasant warmth was something you almost missed as she’d let go of you, the shuffle of her arms crossing heightened behind your closed eyelids.

“I can’t help a patient I can’t trust,” She’d muse with a teasing lilt, rolling her r’s in a way that made your chest flutter. Was this another symptom of your molt? It had been a long time since you’d been with another and the thought made your heart ache, albeit not more than your bones. “Why won’t you look at me?”

The scoff that came in response to her was almost too easy, opening your eyes after directing your head to the floor again, “Because I am no threat to you.” “And why would I assume that?” She’d retort immediately, and you’d glare into the ground. Why was talking so easy for her? Why couldn’t she understand that you weren’t like her? You’d raise your arm aloft again, the skin burning now as you’d twist the plumage under your flesh for her view. The rage that had been festering in you for days unlocked a torrent of your words, finally finding purchase in your mouth- frustration evident in how each phrase was ripped from your throat. Your larynx would be useless beyond a breathing tool soon, so you better use it now. Your nails clawed at your arms, doubling into yourself, “Because you are human and I am not, healer- is that not something you’re able to understand-?!”

“Relax for me-” she’d grit, and you’d feel your stomach plummet at her words. Something in them begged obedience, and for a second you felt as though you were back in your nightmare. You’d twitch, glance immediately circling the ceiling as something would restrain you- thin tendrils of crimson magic, keeping your arms from flaring out at your sides. As if seeing your frustration, your panic, the healer’s sorcery would calm, soothing both your body and your mind into an unnatural lull. “You’re…using-” you’d begin, yet words would evade you once again, no longer fueled by anger. There was only a different feeling- regret, and uncomfortable stone in your stomach that you shied away from, wanting to cower from its weight. You didn’t like yelling at this woman, even as she cradled you with her witchcraft.

You’d feel her heat again, warm hands placing tentative touches to your shoulders, slowly coaxing your glance to hers. “I’m sorry,” she’d breathe, shallow as you’d feel her palms shake against you, “I didn’t want you… to hurt yourself-” Her irises, blooming with clouds of red, would drain into green as you’d feel her magic loosen around your body like unraveling ropes. You wouldn’t shy away from her this time, panting as her gaze would share her soul with you. She, too, held that stone in her gut. Perhaps she didn’t fear you.

You’d part as her back would stiffen, adding a few feet between the two of you. “What is your name?” She’d ask, and you saw the way her head tilted since you looked at her face. Your words came easier now that you were less tense, muscles losing their rigidity, and yet you didn’t have an answer for her. You still pried into her windows, eyes flicking across the expanse of her garden from the view you could get from her living room, but it was a start. “I met your gaze, healer..I’ve done my part, you first.”

You’d see the way her nose crinkled at your response, flecks of mirth illuminating her expression, a grin finding its place there, “Talking now, are we? I’m Wanda.” “I’m..Margo.” In truth, you hadn’t had a name in years, the few decades you’d been alive focused more on survival than memory, especially when your molts made it difficult to discern who you really were- humanoid or avian. You’d forgotten your birth name ages ago, and it was a blessing that your words left your mouth as cleanly as they did. She’d tut at your response, taking it in as satisfactory, “Sure…Margo. Would you like to sit down?”

Wanda would guide you to her kitchen table without much fanfare, settling you on her single chair. With a focused look and a wave of her hand, however- a duplicate would reveal itself from a cloud of scarlet mist. “Your magic is red?” You’d inquire, tilting your head as you’d seen her do, “It’s a violent color. Why is that?”

“Do you really want to toe that line?” Her phrase were humorous, yet you swear a flash of indignation peppered her visage. You were not going to mess with that line, whatever she meant by that. “No, Wanda.” She smiled at that, her name seemingly pleasing in your mouth. You felt the flutter in your chest again, heart drumming a little faster against your shifting ribcage. If this was a sign of your incoming succession, then you had to finish this fast- to return before you transformed in Wanda’s house. And yet, why was the feeling almost pleasant?

“You said you haven’t seen my ‘affliction’ in a while,” You’d recount, finding her term for your molt unremarkable. You’d offer her a glimpse of your arm again, hesitating to touch the quills beneath. It was always tender before a lunation, and you didn’t want to aggravate the transformation further, “It doesn’t normally happen so soon. In hours before the new moon, maybe- not over days.”

“And what happens after those hours?” She’d coax your arm down with a gentle wave, seeing how your movements grew stiff as your skeleton hollowed out. You shrug, “I transform.” Wanda’s expression would sour, yet curiosity prickled underneath. Why did she look at you like that? “Can you help me? You said you're familiar with my kind.”

“..In truth, I’ve never met someone like you,” She’d murmur, expression bashful, and if the circumstances were different you would’ve taken it as a compliment. Instead, spiked embers of dread seared in your stomach, heart beginning to thrum in your ears. She didn’t know. Could she even help you? Her voice would raise a little louder, “However, if you tell me about yourself, perhaps I could figure it out.” With a twirl of her fingers, two cups of..something floated towards the table. Her gaze was an offer, “Thirsty?”

You’d nod, your throat suddenly dry. The drink was smooth and warm, with a bite of something fresh and crisp. It was much better than your rainwater. Gulping more of it down, you notice how she’d smile at your eagerness, careful not to spill as you’d raise the cup from its saucer. “Cider,” she’d mention, motioning to her mug, “Where are you from?” “My cavern is far from here. About half a day’s walk.” Wanda’s eyebrows would raise. “Cavern? You live in a cave?” Her interest was a delight, and you wanted to keep it for as long as you could. You didn’t answer her question, instead throwing one back at her, “Why do you live far from your town?”

“Bellmoor?” Amusement would blanket Wanda’s expression, snorting as she’d shake her head, twisting in her chair so she could lean forward towards you, “Because I like my peace and quiet. I assume the same for you, Птичка?”

“What does that mean?” You’d ask, and she’d tut again. “Now now, that can be your next question, but it’s my turn.” She’d scrunch her nose at your grumbling acquiesce, and you couldn’t help but smile with her. You liked this game. Wanda rested her hands on her table, and your eyes were caught on the shimmer of her rings as she’d speak, “Can you control your transformation?” That one was easy. “Fuckin’ wish I could...” Wanda’s brows would reach her hairline at your curse, but you wouldn’t give her time to comment as yours would stream from your maw, though it’d stop early, “No Aegypius can. What does..”

“‘Птичка’ mean?” She’d grin, rasping her knuckles on the wooden grain at each syllable, “Little bird, birdie, you have feathers underneath your skin, yes?” You’d send her a taunting look, one that she met in equal measure. You’d smile back at her, “Is that your question?”

Wanda would balk, gotten so caught up in teasing you that her words just tumbled out with no direction. You’d see her cheeks grow pink, clearing her throat with a stuttered breath, and you swear she felt like you did when you felt that flutter. “No, it isn’t-” She’d respond smoothly, but you caught how her eyes shimmered, and you took another sip of cider. You knew why when her words made your mind double-take, “Would you like to stay with me tonight?”

You almost spit out your drink, coughing on it as you’d sputter, blush alighting your face. You felt it warm and you tried to hide it away, your flustered reaction seemingly pleasing Wanda. She certainly didn’t know what that meant to you, “I..you want me to stay with you- I’m going to molt tonight, Wanda.”

“And if I am to help your transformation, then I must see it in person,” She’d respond, never losing her smile. It soothed you, that richness in her tone and that calm in her expression, and you’d feel a new pull in your heart. One you hated.

Your instincts wanted you to ruin her. Wanted her vulnerable as she was, to splinter her bones into shards you didn’t even have to chew.

To take advantage of her weakness, your hunger eating you alive unless you picked her clean, consumed-

You’d swallow, a shaky breath leaving you. Wanda had blinked, and your voice acted quicker than your mind would comprehend, “I don’t want it helped, Wanda. I want it gone.” You’d feel your skin itch at that, and a cold dread filled your gut, like the Matron’s chill held you once again. Your words were a whisper. “But I don’t think my body will let me.”

“All the more reason for you to stay. Do you have anything that helps you calm down?” She’d ask, leaning forward with a gentle lilt. Her hand would’ve come across the table, offering her palm to yours. It was calloused, warm skin juxtaposed with smooth metal, and you took it in yours gratefully. You were starting to really like her company.

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

The hours would’ve floated by you, a subtle bliss filling you as you and Wanda would’ve enjoyed the rest of your evening together. You could feel your body shift by the hour, and yet a part of you didn’t care if you were with her. You’d show her your chains, mentioning their unknown inscription and how they’d keep your form….distracted. You would be kept in the barn once the moonless night had begun, the sky within a period of tranquil dusk. She ghosted her hand across the rim of your shackles, and you were surprised they didn’t burn her like they did you. An Aegypius trait, you supposed.

Wanda had made you stew using that pot from earlier, while you hovered in the vicinity, chopping up carrot and onion into more manageable pieces. The meal was finished after it had boiled for a long time, and it was only when you sat down to enjoy it with her that a blink of movement would catch your eye. The bay windows curved in a beautiful shape that let the last vestiges of light in, and you’d register the sight of silver metal piercing into the glass before you heard it smash.

A figure leapt through its shattered remains, thick cloak blanketing their form to protect them from the glass. Their armor and longsword was polished beautifully, and they would be regal if it wasn’t for their war shout and barred teeth. You could see their face beneath their hood, just before the glint of their weapon as it’d slice down towards your chest.

You’d dodge, rushing backwards until your back hit the other end of the wall. As the longsword would finish its downward arc, Wanda’s magic would cradle its blade, her hands outstretched and bent as if trying to push it up. Her voice was strangled and thin, heard between the thudding of your heartbeat in your ears, “run, Margo- go!”

Turning to bolt, you’d hear the clatter of boots against wood as a rougher hand would grab you by the scruff of your neck. Writhing in their hold, you’d shove your elbow into the ribs of your attacker, before grabbing their hand from your nape to sink your teeth into it. “Fuck, you гриф-” The knight’s heavy breath was audible from behind your back. You’d bite harder, feeling their skin break beneath your jaw as you’d thrash, trying to cleave flesh off. They’d tear their hand from you, kicking your legs with a force that sent you barreling down.

Your head would hit the hardwood floor, and you could hear the ringing in your ears as you’d look up, vision swimming as everything looked double. Your hooded attacker brandished their longsword with two hands above you, although it looked like they had four. Before they could stab the blade downward, Wanda’s hand would lurch out to their neck- pressing the kitchen knife into their throat as her other palm would scratch towards the knight’s eyes, the pair barreling backwards which left you an outside view that made your pupils retract into pinpricks.

The sky was dark, illuminated with bright swaths of stars. Tears pricked at your eyes. The few treetops you saw couldn’t even reach its height, blanketing the world in an awaiting gloom. You knew the moon was out there, but you couldn’t see it. Your mind reeled, thoughts growing famished as you’d stare into its expanse. You licked your lips. The sky offered you reprieve, and who were you to deny its feast?

The wheezing pop of bone into stronger sockets would startle Wanda and her assailant into a tense standoff, your witch pinning the stranger to the floorboards while the knight tried in vain to grasp at their longsword that had been kicked many feet away. Your breath heaved with strength you hadn’t felt before, seizing as the voice that came from you was no more than a guttural hiss. Your skull would reshape, mouth widening into a curved beak, hooking into serrated edges, while your skull would become angular, bird like. Anything but human, you were no longer recognizable. Feathers would blanket the creature’s shifting musculature, tearing from roughened skin as they’d fan into shape. Its arms and legs grow as its fingers would lengthen, bat-like wings creaking before they’d be covered in plumage; ivory white on it’s neck and shoulders, cascading into darker blacks and blues elsewhere. The monster’s feathers wouldn’t remain unpigmented for long, as they’d begin to warm on its skin- sparks flying from where they touched, growing into a burnt umber. The beast would groan as its wings crashed to the floor- bipedalism was no longer an option, the force cracking the wooden boards. Horns would thunder from shaking its monstrous head, the beast’s eyes blinking into pale gold with a crimson ring surrounding them. A black line of feathers ran down the side of its face and to its gaping maw, tufted at its chin. Its feathers had heated into shades of orange, flecked with flame- while cyan speckled where its temperature had reached an apex.

Silence would still the room, the shaky inhale of breath marking the presence of living beings in it’s fray. The demon would blink again, a gnashing sound emanating from inside its cavernous beak. It’d then raise itself on its haunches, spread its twelve meter wingspan (shattering the walls in its wake), and echo a deafening, reverberating call into the night.

The hunt had truly begun. Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

~~~

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dee-writes-anime · 8 days ago

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Chapter 8: A Reign of Terror

FEATURING Ryomen Sukuna x Witch!Reader

SUMMARY As you and Sukuna solidify your reign as the King and Queen of Curses, your fiery relationship deepens amidst power struggles and lingering doubts. However, the celebration is short-lived as an ominous storm heralds the arrival of a new, ancient threat. The chapter ends with a foreboding confrontation in the throne room, setting the stage for a battle that could shake Sukuna’s reign to its core.

CONTENT WARNINGS Graphic depictions of sexual activity, including dominance and power dynamics, references to past carnage, heavy tension, and implied violence in the looming confrontation, intense language and descriptions, themes of dominance, submission, and manipulation within a romantic and political context.

PLAYLIST

SERIES MASTERLIST

The ridge overlooked the village like a throne perched above the remains of a fallen kingdom. Below, devastation sprawled in all directions, a canvas of smoke and fire painted with blood. The jagged remnants of homes jutted skyward like broken ribs, their charred timbers crackling faintly as the fires consuming them struggled to stay alight. The acrid stench of destruction filled the air, mingling with the metallic tang of fresh blood and the fetid stink of decay. Each breath was a punishment, forcing the taste of ruin onto the tongue.

The sky mirrored the chaos below, a tempest of swirling black clouds streaked with veins of crimson lightning. Thunder rolled intermittently, its low growl weaving through the quiet moans of the dying and the sharp cries of those who knelt before you and Sukuna. The storm seemed alive, a force of nature tethered to the malice radiating from the pair of you. It churned restlessly, an ominous prelude to what was yet to come.

Sukuna stood at your side, his towering frame a stark silhouette against the stormy horizon. His crimson robes fluttered in the biting wind, the jagged gold sigils etched into the fabric catching the dim, flickering light of the fires below. His four eyes scanned the wreckage with a detached curiosity, two half-lidded in boredom, while the others gleamed with sharp intensity. His cursed energy rippled outward in subtle waves, brushing against your senses like an animal testing the air for prey. It was suffocating, electric, and undeniably commanding.

“Do you see it, little queen?” he murmured, his voice low and resonant, carrying a dark amusement that sent a shiver down your spine. “This is the price of defiance.”

You followed his gaze, your eyes sweeping over the carnage with a calculated detachment. The villagers who remained alive knelt in the blood-soaked dirt, their faces pale and streaked with tears and soot. Some clutched at their wounds, their trembling hands slick with blood, while others simply stared blankly at the ground as though unable to comprehend the destruction that had befallen them.

In the distance, the remains of the rebel leader’s stronghold jutted out like a defiant fist, its walls charred black and crumbling. Sukuna’s cursed spirits prowled the ruins, their grotesque forms illuminated by the occasional flash of lightning. One massive spirit, its body a writhing mass of serpentine limbs and jagged bone, dragged a mangled corpse across the dirt, leaving a trail of viscera in its wake. Another spirit, smaller but no less horrifying, perched atop a pile of rubble, its too-wide mouth curled into a grotesque grin as it gnawed on a severed arm.

Closer to the ridge, a group of survivors knelt in a ragged line, their faces turned toward the ground. Their bodies were hunched and trembling, their once-bright clothing now stained with blood and ash. A child whimpered softly, his small frame pressed against his mother’s side as she clutched him tightly, her own eyes wide with terror. The sound cut through the oppressive silence, a reminder that even in the face of overwhelming power, there were those who clung desperately to life.

Sukuna’s gaze lingered on the survivors, his grin widening into something sharp and cruel. He stepped forward, his cursed energy surging faintly as he descended the ridge with a deliberate slowness that made the ground tremble beneath his feet. You followed, the pulse of the choker at your throat steadying your steps as you matched his pace. The hem of your crimson gown, embroidered with jagged gold patterns, whispered against the broken stones as you descended.

When the two of you reached the foot of the ridge, the survivors recoiled, their bodies pressing closer to the ground as though it might shield them from the weight of your presence. Sukuna stopped a few paces from them, his crimson eyes gleaming with cruel satisfaction as he surveyed the trembling figures.

“You dared to defy me,” Sukuna said, his voice cutting through the heavy air like a blade. “You dared to think that you could stand against the King of Curses.”

One of the villagers, a man with a bloodied face and trembling hands, raised his head slightly, his eyes darting between you and Sukuna. “Please,” he croaked, his voice raw with desperation. “We— We were only trying to protect our own. We—”

Sukuna silenced him with a flick of his hand. The man’s body convulsed violently, his mouth open in a silent scream as his cursed energy was crushed under Sukuna’s will. The other villagers cried out in terror, their voices rising in a discordant chorus that echoed across the desolation.

Sukuna turned to you then, his grin widening as he gestured toward the trembling survivors. “Your decision, little queen,” he said, his tone dripping with mockery. “What shall we do with them?”

The weight of his words settled heavily on your shoulders, the choker at your throat pulsing in time with your racing heartbeat. You met his gaze, the sharp intensity of his crimson eyes daring you to hesitate. But you didn’t. You stepped forward, your cursed energy flaring around you in sharp, deliberate waves that sent shivers through the air.

The survivors recoiled as you approached, their cries growing louder, more desperate. You looked down at them, their faces twisted with fear and despair, and for a moment, you hesitated—not out of mercy, but out of calculation. They had already lost everything. Was there anything left to take?

You turned back to Sukuna, his expression unreadable but his amusement palpable. “Let one live,” you said, your voice steady. “Let them carry the tale of what happens to those who defy us.”

Sukuna’s laughter rumbled low and sharp, echoing through the wreckage as he stepped closer, his hand brushing your shoulder. “Clever,” he murmured, his voice a mix of approval and something darker. “Let them choke on their fear.”

With a flick of his wrist, the cursed spirits moved, their grotesque forms descending upon the villagers with brutal efficiency. The screams that followed were short-lived, their echoes fading into the storm as the spirits tore through flesh and bone with savage precision. Only one figure remained untouched—a young man with wide, terrified eyes who stared at you as though you were a nightmare given form.

“Go,” you commanded, your voice sharp and unyielding. “Run. Tell them what you’ve seen here.”

The man hesitated for a heartbeat before scrambling to his feet, his steps uneven as he fled into the darkness. His figure disappeared into the distance, swallowed by the storm, leaving only silence in his wake.

Sukuna turned to you, his grin widening as he tilted his head slightly. “You’re learning,” he said, his tone laced with amusement. “Perhaps you’ll make a queen yet.”

“I already am,” you replied, the faintest smirk curling your lips as you met his gaze.

The storm roared its approval above, the crimson lightning casting jagged shadows across the desolation below. This was your reign, forged in blood and fire, and there would be no question of your power. Not anymore.

The estate was alive with movement when you returned, its grand halls bustling with servants and courtiers scrambling to keep pace with the demands of their king and queen. The air hummed with tension, a constant reminder of the new order that had been violently imposed upon the land. Whispers carried through the corridors like smoke, curling into the ears of anyone brave enough to listen. Beneath the polished veneer of loyalty, doubt and defiance simmered—a volatile mixture waiting for the smallest spark to ignite.

Sukuna had summoned his court to the throne room, a cavernous space lined with jagged obsidian columns etched with golden sigils that pulsed faintly with cursed energy. At the center of the room, a raised dais supported two imposing thrones. His, carved from black stone veined with crimson, loomed larger, its sharp angles designed to intimidate. Yours, while slightly smaller, matched its grandeur, with gold accents and a seat lined with deep crimson silk.

The lords gathered below, their silks shimmering under the dim, flickering light of the braziers. Their faces were masks of forced composure, but their eyes betrayed them—sharp and calculating, some alight with admiration, others shadowed by resentment. This was a court still adjusting to its queen, a figure they had once whispered about with disdain but now feared with a visceral intensity.

Sukuna lounged in his throne, his crimson eyes scanning the room with sharp amusement. He exuded command without effort, his four arms resting casually on the armrests and his lap. His cursed energy pulsed steadily, coiling around the room like smoke, a reminder of the power he wielded without lifting a finger.

You sat at his side, your posture regal and unyielding, your crimson and gold gown pooling around you like molten fire. The choker at your throat pulsed faintly, its energy thrumming in time with your own, grounding you as the weight of the court’s scrutiny bore down. Your hands rested lightly on the arms of your throne, but your gaze was anything but idle, sweeping over the gathered lords with sharp precision.

“They doubt you,” Sukuna murmured, his voice low enough for only you to hear. His grin widened as he leaned closer, his breath brushing against your ear. “You can see it in their eyes.”

“I see it,” you replied, your tone calm but edged with steel. “Let them doubt. It makes their fear taste sweeter.”

His laughter rumbled through the room, drawing the lords’ attention. They stiffened, their unease palpable as Sukuna straightened in his seat, his gaze sweeping over them with predatory intent.

“Speak,” he commanded, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “Which of you will be the first to address your king and queen?”

A murmur rippled through the court, lords exchanging wary glances before one finally stepped forward. He was an older man, his silver hair neatly tied back, his crimson robes adorned with gold embroidery that shimmered faintly in the firelight. He bowed deeply, though his movements were stiff, his deference tainted by reluctance.

“Your Majesties,” he began, his voice steady but carrying a faint edge of trepidation. “We are... honored to serve under your reign. But there are whispers—rumors of rebellion stirring in the western provinces.”

The room stilled, the air growing heavier as Sukuna’s grin sharpened into something colder, more deliberate. “Rebellion?” he echoed, his tone soft but laced with menace. “Do elaborate.”

The lord hesitated, his gaze flicking briefly to you before returning to Sukuna. “There are those who question your... methods,” he said carefully. “They claim your rule is one of terror, not loyalty. They seek to rally the discontented, to undermine the foundation of your court.”

Sukuna chuckled, the sound low and menacing, as he leaned back in his throne. “And do you share their concerns?” he asked, his crimson eyes gleaming with dangerous amusement.

The lord paled, his composure faltering under Sukuna’s piercing gaze. “No, my lord,” he said quickly, his voice trembling. “I serve only you.”

Sukuna tilted his head, his grin widening as he turned to you. “What do you think, little queen?” he asked, his tone dripping with mockery. “Shall we let this one live to see another day?”

The court’s attention shifted to you, the weight of their stares pressing heavily against your chest. You didn’t hesitate. Rising from your throne, you stepped forward, the hem of your gown whispering against the polished stone floor. Your cursed energy flared faintly, coiling around you like a living thing, sending a ripple of unease through the room.

“Loyalty is proven through action, not words,” you said, your voice sharp and deliberate. “If he truly serves, let him show us.”

The lord’s eyes widened, panic flickering across his face as he realized the implications of your words. “My queen, I—”

“You will lead our forces to crush this rebellion,” you continued, cutting him off. “And you will bring the rebels’ heads to the steps of this throne.”

The room fell silent, the lords exchanging uneasy glances as the weight of your command settled over them. The lord before you hesitated, his trembling hands clutching the folds of his robes. “If... If that is your will,” he stammered.

“It is,” you said coldly, stepping closer until you loomed over him. “And if you fail, your head will join theirs.”

Sukuna’s laughter echoed through the room, low and resonant, as he watched the exchange with sharp amusement. “You heard your queen,” he said, his tone mockingly light. “Do not disappoint her.”

The lord bowed deeply, his movements stiff with fear, before retreating into the shadows. The court remained silent, their unease palpable as you returned to your throne, your gaze sweeping over them with sharp intensity.

“You’re enjoying this,” Sukuna murmured, his voice low but laced with approval.

You turned to him, the faintest smirk curling your lips. “Perhaps.”

His grin widened, his crimson eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Good,” he said softly. “They should fear you as much as they fear me.”

It was only after everyone was dismissed that Sukuna led you back to his chambers. The glow of the crimson lanterns bathed his private chambers in a warm, almost sinister light, the flickering shadows on the walls making the space feel alive. The low hum of cursed energy filled the air, vibrating faintly beneath the polished stone floors. The scent of incense coiled lazily, mingling with the faint metallic tang of blood that seemed permanently etched into the space. It was a room of dominance and decadence, one that reflected Sukuna’s unyielding presence.

You stood in the center of it, your arms folded across your chest, tension radiating off your frame as you fixed him with a sharp glare. The rich crimson and gold of your gown swirled around your ankles, the jagged sigils embroidered into the fabric glinting faintly in the firelight. Sukuna’s towering form lounged against the edge of a low table, his arms crossed, his crimson eyes gleaming with something between amusement and anticipation.

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice laced with sarcasm as you arched an eyebrow. “Did I hear you correctly?”

“You did,” he replied smoothly, his deep voice carrying a dangerous edge of amusement. “You’ll move your belongings into my quarters. Starting tonight.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line as you took a step closer, the hem of your gown whispering against the floor. “And why, exactly, should I?”

Sukuna tilted his head slightly, his grin widening into something predatory. “Because I said so.”

The casual arrogance of his response sent a sharp spike of irritation through you. “That’s not an answer,” you shot back, your tone sharp enough to cut. “I’m not one of your followers to order around like a mindless servant.”

“No,” he said, his grin sharpening. “You’re my queen.”

The words hung heavily in the air between you, weighted with unspoken meaning. His four crimson eyes bore into yours, two half-lidded with calculated amusement while the others gleamed with intensity. The room felt smaller, the air thicker, as the tension between you coiled tighter.

“And what does that have to do with where I sleep?” you demanded, refusing to back down.

Sukuna chuckled, the sound low and rough, curling around you like smoke. “Everything,” he said, his tone dropping lower. “Your place is at my side—in court, in battle, and in every other way that matters.”

The implication in his words sent a jolt of heat through your chest, but you forced yourself to hold his gaze, refusing to let him see the crack in your composure. “I don’t recall agreeing to that,” you said, your voice steadier than you felt.

He pushed off the table with a slow, deliberate motion, his movements fluid and predatory. The air grew heavier as he closed the distance between you, his cursed energy brushing against yours like a velvet blade. He stopped just a breath away, his towering form casting a shadow over you, his grin widening as his voice dropped to a near growl.

“Didn’t you?” he asked, his breath warm against your temple. “Or have you forgotten the way you begged for me the other night?”

Your breath caught, the memory slamming into you like a tidal wave. The heat of his hands on your skin, the way his voice had dropped into a rasp that left you trembling, the overwhelming sensation of his cursed energy intertwined with your own—it was all too vivid, too raw. Your pulse quickened despite your efforts to steady it, your defiance wavering under the weight of his presence.

“I didn’t beg,” you said, though your voice faltered at the end, betraying the conviction you wanted to project.

Sukuna’s laughter rumbled through the space, dark and mocking, as he leaned closer, his four eyes narrowing with satisfaction. “No?” he murmured, his voice a velvet rasp. “Should I remind you?”

His hand moved, slow and deliberate, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. The touch was deceptively gentle, a stark contrast to the raw power radiating from him. His claws grazed your cheek, sending a shiver racing down your spine as his grin deepened.

“You clung to me,” he continued, his tone soft but dripping with dark amusement. “Cried out my name like it was the only thing keeping you grounded. And when I left you trembling, you still wanted more.”

The heat in your chest flared into something sharper, hotter, as the memory burned brighter under his words. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, both to steady yourself and to suppress the rising temptation to wipe that smug grin off his face.

“And what of it?” you shot back, forcing your voice into something approaching calm. “That doesn’t mean I’m moving in here like some... trophy.”

Sukuna’s grin softened, just slightly, though it lost none of its edge. “You think this is about possession?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost contemplative. “No, little queen. This is about power.”

His hand moved to your chin, tilting your face upward until your gaze locked with his. The sharp intensity in his eyes left no room for doubt, the weight of his words pressing against you like the force of a storm.

“You’ve fought for this place,” he said, his tone softening into something darker, more dangerous. “Claimed it in blood and fire. You’re no longer just standing beside me—you’re ruling with me. And that means every part of you belongs here. With me.”

The declaration sent a shiver racing through you, the weight of his words sinking deeper than you expected. You hated the way your chest tightened, the way your cursed energy responded to his with a sharp, electric pulse that left you breathless.

“And if I refuse?” you asked, though your voice lacked the sharpness it had before.

His grin widened, his lower hands settling on your waist as his upper ones braced against the wall behind you, caging you in without a word. “You won’t,” he said simply, his tone carrying the weight of absolute certainty. “Because you know as well as I do that this is where you belong.”

The words struck like a blade, sharp and precise, cutting through the last of your defenses. His presence was suffocating, intoxicating, and as much as you hated to admit it, there was a part of you that craved the storm he brought with him.

Before you could respond, Sukuna leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmured, “You’ll move into my chambers. And when you do, we’ll see if your defiance lasts through the night.”

The promise in his tone left you breathless, the air between you charged with unspoken tension. For a moment, you stood frozen, caught between the fire in his eyes and the pull of your own cursed energy, which thrummed in time with his.

“I’ll consider it,” you said finally, though your voice was quieter now, less certain.

His laughter was low and satisfied as he stepped back, his crimson eyes gleaming with triumph. “Do that,” he said, his tone carrying a dark promise. “But don’t take too long, little queen. I’m not known for my patience.”

The room felt colder as he retreated, his presence lingering like smoke as he disappeared into the shadows. You stood there, the weight of his words pressing heavily against you, the memory of his touch burning into your skin.

You would consider it. But deep down, you already knew the answer.

The throne room was shrouded in an oppressive silence, the faint hum of cursed energy vibrating through the air as you stood at Sukuna’s side. The jagged stone throne at the far end of the room loomed like a monolith, carved from dark rock and etched with intricate sigils that pulsed faintly with crimson light. It was an imposing seat, a symbol of absolute power—and it was his.

Yet tonight, his attention wasn’t on his throne or the court he ruled from it. It was on you.

“You’ve grown used to standing beside me,” Sukuna said, his voice low and resonant, breaking the charged stillness. “But a queen should not stand. She should reign.”

You blinked, taken aback by the comment, and turned to meet his gaze. His crimson eyes burned with a sharp intensity, two half-lidded with amusement while the others gleamed with something unreadable. “What are you saying?”

He chuckled, the sound low and dangerous, as he reached out, his clawed fingers brushing against your chin to tilt your face upward. “I’ll have a throne made for you,” he murmured, his tone dripping with confidence. “A seat beside mine. A place for you to rule—not as a shadow, but as my equal.”

The words sent a ripple through you, the weight of his declaration sinking into your chest. A throne beside his? The gravity of it was as intoxicating as it was terrifying. Yet, before you could respond, he turned and strode toward the dais, his crimson robes trailing behind him like a river of blood.

“Come,” he said without looking back, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I want to show you something.”

You followed, your steps hesitant but steady, as he ascended the dais and gestured toward his throne. The jagged seat gleamed faintly in the dim light, its presence as commanding as the man who ruled from it.

“Do you know what this throne represents?” Sukuna asked, his voice quieter now but no less intense.

“Your power,” you replied, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

His grin widened, sharp and predatory, as he turned to face you. “Exactly. And tonight, I’ll show you why no one—nothing—can take it from me.”

Before you could ask what he meant, he closed the distance between you in a single, fluid motion. His four hands moved with deliberate precision, his claws grazing your arms as he pulled you closer. His cursed energy pressed against you, suffocating and electric, setting every nerve in your body alight.

“Do you know why I brought you here?” he asked, his voice a low growl that reverberated through the empty hall, sending a tremor through your chest.

Your breath hitched, your mind spinning under the weight of his presence. “To make a point?” you replied, your voice steady despite the rapid thrum of your heartbeat.

He chuckled, a low, dark sound that sent a wave of heat through you. “Clever,” he murmured, his grin widening as his upper hands cupped your face, tilting it upward so his crimson gaze locked onto yours. “But no. This isn’t about anyone else. This is about you and me.”

The words sent a jolt through you, the raw intensity of his gaze leaving you breathless. Before you could respond, he swept you off your feet, his lower hands gripping your thighs as he carried you up the dais. The stone of the throne was cold against your back as he settled you onto it, his body towering over you like a force of nature.

“You think you can defy me,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a velvet rasp that made your skin prickle with anticipation. “But here, on my throne, there’s no pretending. No games.”

Before you could process his words, his hands were on you again—unrelenting, deliberate. His claws trailed down your sides, catching the fabric of your gown and tearing it with ease. The sound of ripping fabric filled the air, mingling with the sharp crackle of cursed energy as he stripped you down with practiced efficiency.

You didn’t even realize what was happening until you were left in nothing but your bra and underwear, the cool air of the throne room brushing against your exposed skin. Your breath hitched as you tried to cover yourself, but Sukuna’s lower hands pinned your wrists against the armrests, holding you firmly in place.

His grin widened as his upper hands parted his robe, revealing himself to you. Your breath caught in your throat as your eyes traveled downward, taking in the sheer size of him. His cock was impossibly large, its girth and length a testament to his inhuman nature. The angry red tip glistened faintly, twitching with anticipation, and your mind reeled at the thought of him fitting inside you.

“H-holy shit,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper as you stared, wide-eyed and overwhelmed.

Sukuna’s laughter rumbled through the room, deep and resonant, as he leaned closer, his upper hands bracing against the throne on either side of your head. “What’s the matter, little queen?” he purred, his voice mocking but laced with dark amusement. “Scared?”

You swallowed thickly, your throat dry as you struggled to find your voice. “It’s... there’s no way that’s going to fit,” you managed, your words tumbling out in a rush. In the dark of his chambers last night, you hadn’t gotten a good look of all that he had been... carrying, but now, now you were petrified.

His grin sharpened, his crimson eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Oh, it’ll fit,” he said, his voice dripping with confidence. “You’ll take all of me, and you’ll love it, just as you did the night before.”

You instinctively tried to pull your hips away as he hooked a clawed finger under the hem of your panties, sliding the thin fabric down your legs. The cool air brushed against your wetness, a stark contrast to the heat pooling low in your belly. Sukuna’s lower hands spread your legs wider, his grip unyielding as he pressed your thighs against the cold stone of the throne.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his tone mocking yet edged with desire. “Already so wet for me.”

The flush that spread across your face wasn’t just from embarrassment—it was from the undeniable truth in his words. You hated how your body betrayed you, how the slick evidence of your arousal pooled between your thighs, but there was no denying it. You gasped as his long finger slid inside you without warning, the stretch startling and impossibly full.

The feeling was overwhelming. One finger, impossibly thick, curled inside you, brushing against spots that made your vision blur and your breath hitch. His palm pressed against your clit with every thrust, the pressure sending jolts of pleasure racing through your body. You clung to his robes, your trembling hands seeking something to anchor you as your hips began to grind against his hand, desperate for more.

“Don’t worry,” he said, his voice dripping with dark amusement as his finger pumped steadily in and out of you. “I’ll get you ready before the real thing.”

You opened your mouth to respond, to retort, but his upper hands cupped your face, tilting your chin upward as his lips crashed against yours. The kiss was feral, consuming, leaving no room for hesitation. His tongue, hot and impossibly strong, invaded your mouth with an intensity that left you breathless.

The obscene sound of wetness filled the air as his hand continued its relentless rhythm, each stroke sending you closer to the edge. The warmth of his mouth, the rough scrape of his claws against your skin, the maddening pressure of his palm against your clit—it was too much. Your legs trembled, your body arching against him as the coil of pleasure in your belly tightened, threatening to snap.

But just as you were about to fall over the precipice, everything stopped. His hand withdrew, his touch vanishing like the echo of a scream, leaving you trembling and empty.

“No, no, no,” you whimpered, your voice breaking as fat tears welled in your eyes, spilling down your flushed cheeks. “Please... don’t stop. I’ll be good. I’ll do whatever you want. Please, Sukuna.”

He chuckled, a dark, mocking sound that sent another shiver racing through you. “Didn’t I tell you?” he said, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “I’m preparing you for the real thing.”

Before you could respond, he shifted you effortlessly, his lower hands gripping your hips and lifting you into the air as though you weighed nothing. You found yourself straddling him, your thighs spread wide as he aligned your entrance with the thick, pulsing tip of his cock.

“Wait—hold on—” you tried, but the words dissolved into a choked cry as he began to lower you onto him.

The stretch was unlike anything you’d ever felt, the overwhelming pressure stealing the air from your lungs as he pushed inside. You squirmed, your body writhing against his unrelenting hold, but his hands kept you firmly in place.

“Relax,” he growled, his voice rough with restraint. “You’ll take it all.”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face as you whimpered against the impossible fullness. “I can’t—it’s too much—”

But Sukuna didn’t stop. Inch by agonizing inch, he pushed deeper, his jaw tightening as your walls clenched around him like a vice. His claws dug into your hips, not enough to break the skin but enough to remind you who was in control.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his crimson eyes narrowing as he watched you struggle to take him. “You’re tighter than I expected.”

You cried out as he shifted, the thick girth of him stretching you in ways you hadn’t thought possible. Every nerve in your body was alight, every sensation amplified as he bottomed out, his cock buried to the hilt. The wet, obscene sound of your joining filled the throne room, echoing off the stone walls as you trembled in his grasp.

“You feel that?” he asked, his voice a low rumble as he held you there, unmoving. “That’s what it means to be mine.”

You could only nod weakly, your body trembling as you tried to adjust to the overwhelming sensation. His hands moved then, one slipping to your clit to rub slow, deliberate circles, while another cupped the back of your neck, pulling you closer until his lips brushed against your ear.

“Beg for me,” he whispered, his tone dark and commanding. “Beg for more.”

And as his hips began to move, slow and unrelenting, you realized with a mix of despair and exhilaration that you would. You would beg. Because nothing else had ever felt like this—nothing else ever could.

The throne room echoed with the sharp slap of flesh against flesh, each sound reverberating off the high stone walls as Sukuna relentlessly drove into you. His pace was unyielding, each thrust lifting you from his lap only to slam you back down onto his thick length with bruising force. Your mind was a haze of sensation, every nerve alight as your body struggled to keep up with the overwhelming fullness he brought.

You screamed as he pulled back and thrust into you again, the sudden motion making your eyes roll back, a mix of dull ache and searing pleasure radiating through your body. Tears streamed down your flushed face, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you clawed at his shoulders, desperate for something to anchor you.

For a fleeting moment, a sliver of rationality whispered in Sukuna’s mind to be gentler, to ease his way into you. You were human, fragile, a fraction of his size. But that thought dissolved the moment he felt your slick, molten walls clench around him, gripping him so tightly it bordered on maddening. And then there was the way you looked at him—your wide, teary eyes filled with unrestrained desperation and awe. That gaze burned away any semblance of restraint he might have had.

"Fuck, look at you," he growled, his voice rough with raw satisfaction. "You're mine—just like this."

Your drool glistened on your chin as your head lolled back, your lips parted in a silent cry. He gripped you with all four of his hands, lifting you like you weighed nothing, using your body as if you were made solely for his pleasure. The sheer size of him stretched you beyond reason, each punishing thrust scraping against every sensitive spot inside you with ruthless precision.

The pain that had initially consumed you melted into a fiery pleasure, every inch of him setting your nerves alight. Your moans spilled out freely now, raw and unrestrained, mingling with the wet, obscene sounds of your slickness and his unrelenting movements.

“Shit, you feel better than I expected,” Sukuna grunted, his breath coming in short bursts. His crimson eyes burned into you, watching the way your body shook and quivered under his relentless onslaught. “Gonna have to do this every day. Fuck you like this all the time.”

The words sent a new wave of heat rushing through you, your nails digging into his shoulders as you tried to cling to some semblance of control. But control was a distant memory now, lost to the intensity of his possession. Your body reacted on instinct, your hips rolling against him, meeting his thrusts in desperate, needy movements.

And then it hit you—something unfamiliar, overwhelming. A sudden build-up of tension in your core, a tightness that felt like it would snap at any moment. It was unlike anything you’d felt before, a cascade of pleasure so intense it bordered on unbearable.

Your words faltered, caught in your throat as the sensation consumed you. Your body trembled uncontrollably, your breathing shallow and erratic as you clung to him, unsure of how to describe what was happening.

Sukuna, of course, understood. His grin widened, his movements growing faster, rougher, as his hands tightened their hold on your shaking frame. “Do it,” he commanded, his voice a low snarl against your ear. “Come for me, slut. Let me feel it. And I’ll fill you up—if it spills, I’ll fuck it back into you.”

The vulgar promise shattered the last of your restraint. With a sharp cry, the knot in your stomach unraveled, and your world exploded in a burst of ecstasy. Your walls clamped down around him, waves of pleasure wracking your body as you threw your head back, your scream echoing through the throne room.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Sukuna growled, his hips stuttering as your release pulled him over the edge. His movements grew erratic, his breaths ragged as he thrust deep into you one final time. His release came in hot, overwhelming spurts, filling you to the brim. The sensation of his cum flooding you sent another shiver of pleasure through your trembling body, your nails raking down his back as you tried to ground yourself.

There was so much of him, too much, the thick fluid leaking out around where you were still joined. It rolled down the length of his cock, pooling at the base and dripping onto his thighs, a visible testament to his possession.

Sukuna chuckled lowly, his breath hot against your skin as he held you close. “Fuck, you did good,” he murmured, his tone softer now, though no less satisfied. “So good.”

“Mine,” he said again, the word carrying a finality that left no room for doubt. And as you sat there, completely spent and utterly claimed, you realized you didn’t have the strength—or the desire—to argue.

The throne room was silent now, the air heavy with the scent of sweat, sex, and the faint metallic tang of Sukuna’s cursed energy. The dim light of the braziers cast flickering shadows across the polished stone walls, reflecting the chaos that had just unfolded. The throne itself bore the marks of your encounter—claw marks etched into its edges, fabric askew, and the faint indentations where Sukuna’s strength had gripped too tightly.

You slumped against him, your body trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure that still hummed through your veins. His hands—large, clawed, and unnervingly steady—rested on your hips, his grip firm yet strangely tender. His chest rose and fell beneath you, the sound of his breathing a deep, resonant rhythm that matched the pulse of your still-thundering heart.

The silence stretched between you, heavy and electric, until Sukuna broke it with a low chuckle. “What’s the matter, little queen?” he asked, his voice rough with satisfaction. “Cat got your tongue?”

You lifted your head just enough to meet his gaze, your eyes narrowing despite the flush still staining your cheeks. “I’m... processing,” you said, your voice hoarse but edged with defiance. “Unlike you, I don’t revel in—whatever this is.”

He laughed again, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Whatever this is?” he echoed, his grin widening. “Is that what you’re calling it now?”

You tried to push away from him, but his hands tightened on your hips, holding you in place. “Don’t move,” he commanded, his tone softer than usual but no less authoritative. “I like you just where you are.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, but you refused to let him see how easily he could affect you. “You’re insufferable,” you muttered, though the heat in your voice betrayed you.

“And yet, here you are,” he replied smoothly, his crimson eyes gleaming. “Still in my lap. Still mine.”

The words hung heavily between you, their weight pressing against the fragile truce that had formed in the wake of your passion. You hated how easily he could make you feel small, vulnerable—how his presence seemed to strip away the walls you had so carefully constructed.

“I don’t belong to anyone,” you said finally, your voice quiet but firm. “Not even you.”

Sukuna’s grin faltered, his eyes narrowing as his grip on your hips loosened slightly. “Is that so?” he asked, his tone deceptively calm. “Because I seem to recall you screaming my name not too long ago.”

You flushed, your chest tightening as the memory of his touch, his voice, and the overwhelming sensation of him flooded your mind. “That doesn’t mean you own me,” you said, forcing the words past the lump in your throat. “I chose this. I chose you. That doesn’t mean I’m yours to control.”

His laughter was softer this time, laced with something you couldn’t quite name. “Oh, little queen,” he murmured, his hands trailing slowly up your sides. “You can keep telling yourself that. But you’re here, aren’t you? Still fighting, still rising to every challenge I throw your way. Why is that?”

You bit your lip, your gaze dropping as the question settled heavily in the space between you. Why were you still here? Was it the power he offered, the promise of standing at his side? Or was it something deeper, something you weren’t ready to name?

“I’m here because I want to be,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you dictate who I am.”

Sukuna’s expression shifted, his grin softening into something sharper, more deliberate. “Good,” he said, his voice dropping lower. “I’d be bored if you did.”

You looked up at him, startled by the honesty in his words. He wasn’t mocking you, wasn’t trying to tear you down. If anything, there was a flicker of something resembling pride in his gaze—a rare, fleeting acknowledgment of the fire he saw in you.

“Then stop testing me,” you said, your voice trembling with frustration. “If you want me to stand beside you, stop trying to break me.”

He tilted his head, his four eyes narrowing as he considered your words. “I’m not trying to break you,” he said finally, his tone quieter now. “I’m forging you.”

The declaration struck harder than you expected, the weight of it sinking deep into your chest. You opened your mouth to argue, but he leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear as he spoke again.

“You think I want a queen who bows, who breaks under the weight of my expectations?” he asked, his voice a low growl. “No. I want someone who rises. Someone who matches me, who pushes me. And that’s you.”

The words left you momentarily stunned, your breath catching as his hands slid up to cup your face, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes burned into yours, their sharp intensity leaving no room for doubt.

“You’ve already proven yourself,” he continued, his voice soft but unyielding. “Now prove to yourself that you belong here. With me.”

The room fell into silence once more, the tension between you crackling like a live wire. For the first time, you saw something deeper in his gaze—something raw and unguarded, buried beneath the layers of arrogance and cruelty. And in that moment, you realized that Sukuna wasn’t just testing you. He was testing himself, too.

“I don’t need to prove anything to anyone,” you said finally, your voice steady despite the storm raging within you. “Not even you.”

Sukuna’s grin returned, sharp and predatory, but there was a flicker of something softer in his eyes. “Then show me,” he said simply, his tone carrying the weight of a challenge. “Show me what it means to be my queen.”

You didn’t respond, but as his hands fell away and the silence settled over the room once more, you knew that the battle between you was far from over. And yet, beneath the tension, there was a strange, unspoken understanding—a fragile bond forged in fire and blood, stronger than either of you wanted to admit.

The storm outside Sukuna’s domain was unlike any other—an unnatural tempest that seemed to pulse with malevolence. The once-clear skies churned with dark clouds, jagged with streaks of violet lightning that struck the horizon with deafening cracks. The wind howled through the halls of the estate, carrying with it the scent of ozone and something far more sinister: decay.

You stood in the throne room, your chest still heaving from the heated exchange with Sukuna. The lingering hum of his cursed energy still clung to the air, but it felt distant now, overshadowed by the oppressive force pressing down on the entire domain. The braziers flickered erratically, their flames shrinking against the unseen weight that had crept into the room like a specter.

Sukuna sat on his throne, his crimson eyes narrowed as he stared out the massive windows that overlooked his domain. His usual smugness was gone, replaced by a sharp focus that sent a chill down your spine. His claws tapped against the armrest of his throne in a slow, deliberate rhythm, the sound echoing in the tense silence.

You took a step closer, your voice steady despite the unease gnawing at you. “What is it?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, as if listening to something beyond the range of mortal ears. His cursed energy flared briefly, sharp and biting, before settling into a low, steady hum.

“A storm,” he said finally, his voice low and cold. “But not one of nature.”

Your brow furrowed as you moved to his side, your gaze drawn to the chaotic sky beyond the windows. The storm seemed alive, its tendrils of lightning writhing like serpents, striking with a precision that defied chance. You could feel it now—the faint, insidious presence that had slipped into the edges of the domain, testing the boundaries like a predator circling its prey.

“What kind of storm?” you asked, though the weight in your chest already told you the answer wasn’t simple.

Sukuna’s grin returned, sharp and humorless. “One meant for me.”

The words hung heavily in the air, their weight pressing against you like the storm itself. Before you could respond, a deep, resonant boom echoed through the estate, shaking the very foundations. The braziers sputtered, their flames nearly extinguished before flaring back to life. Dust rained down from the high beams as the walls groaned under the force of the impact.

Sukuna was on his feet in an instant, his towering frame radiating power as his cursed energy surged outward in a protective wave. You felt it brush against your skin, warm and electric, before it settled into the room, reinforcing the estate against the unseen threat.

The doors to the throne room burst open, slamming against the walls with a force that made the stone tremble. Uraume stepped inside, their usual composure fractured by the urgency in their movements. Their pale eyes were sharp, their expression grim as they bowed quickly before addressing Sukuna.

“My lord,” they said, their voice tight with urgency. “It’s not just the storm. There’s... something in it.”

Sukuna’s gaze didn’t waver from the windows, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “Something?” he repeated, his tone low and dangerous. “Be specific.”

Uraume hesitated, their jaw tightening before they continued. “A presence. Unlike any we’ve faced before. It’s... ancient.”

The word sent a shiver down your spine, the weight of its implication settling heavily in the room. You exchanged a glance with Sukuna, but his expression was unreadable, his crimson eyes fixed on the storm as though daring it to come closer.

“Ancient,” he murmured, the word rolling off his tongue like a curse. “How quaint.”

Another deafening boom echoed through the estate, this time accompanied by a low, guttural sound that sent a wave of nausea rolling through you. It wasn’t quite a roar, nor was it entirely human—it was something in between, a sound that spoke of things that shouldn’t exist in this world.

The cursed energy in the room spiked, sharp and suffocating. You pressed a hand to your chest, steadying yourself against the onslaught as Sukuna’s power rose to meet the threat. His grin widened, razor-sharp and filled with anticipation, as he turned to Uraume.

“Raise the defenses,” he commanded, his voice carrying the weight of absolute authority. “Whatever it is, it won’t breach this domain without a fight.”

Uraume nodded sharply, their movements brisk as they turned to leave. But before they reached the doors, another sound pierced the air—a voice, low and resonant, that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once.

“Sukuna,” it called, the single word laced with an unnatural echo that reverberated through your bones. “King of Curses.”

You froze, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end as the voice continued, each syllable dripping with malice. “Your reign is over.”

The windows shattered in an explosion of glass and cursed energy, the storm outside roaring as if in response to the declaration. Wind howled through the throne room, carrying with it the faint scent of rot and decay. You shielded your face from the shards, your heart pounding as Sukuna stepped forward, his laughter cutting through the chaos like a blade.

“Is that so?” he called back, his tone mocking yet laced with danger. “Then come and take it.”

The storm surged, its tendrils of lightning striking the ground with renewed ferocity. Shadows coalesced in the shattered windows, their forms shifting and writhing as they began to take shape. A figure emerged, tall and imposing, its silhouette cloaked in darkness. Its eyes burned like twin embers, casting a malevolent light that pierced the gloom.

Sukuna’s cursed energy flared brighter, his four eyes narrowing as he stepped toward the figure. His grin widened, sharp and feral, as he extended one of his clawed hands.

“Let’s see if you’re worthy of the challenge,” he said, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver racing down your spine.

The figure didn’t respond, but the weight of its presence pressed against you, suffocating and relentless. The storm roared louder, the air crackling with cursed energy as the throne room became a battlefield waiting to ignite.

And then, with a final surge of power, the figure stepped fully into the room, its form solidifying as it spoke once more.

“Your time is up, Sukuna,” it said, its voice carrying the weight of centuries. “The era of the King of Curses ends tonight.”

dividers by @strangergraphics

AUTHORS NOTE When in doubt, write more smut :)

TAGLIST @slutlight2ndver @surielstea @duhhitzstarr @arcanefeelings @numbuh666 @tejan-sunny @lavenderandoranges @after-laughter-comes-tears @maomimii @theplacetoputfics

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red-doll-face · 2 months ago

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Snow Angel 6

Chapter 6: hostile Series Masterlist

low - medium honor Arthur Morgan x fem. Reader

Arthur has been living by himself, laying low (for real this time) somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. After the whole Pinkerton and Micah debacle, he has been hiding away, waiting for it all to blow over, occasionally getting letters from the people who still know that he’s alive. He’s been alone awhile and at first, he thought he could handle a little loneliness. He has been wrong before. Lucky for him, you look like the perfect thing to break up the monotony.

Warnings: dubious consent, low honor Arthur, darkish fic, a bit of naive reader and an allusion to slut shaming. Reader has dated and period typical ideals, not very good ideas about men and marriage… if you want reader to be strong and a fighter… this is not for you sorry, arthur is a bit of a jerk on this chapter but hell make up for it WC: 4175 Hey ! Ive finally finished chapter 6! Its been through quite a bit of editing and ive read the thing to death so i figured id post it. Nothing too bad in this chapter but arthur shows that hes not always so nice and when provoked can say things that are out of pocket lol, more naive fawn response reader, and mentions of alcohol and spousal abuse but none in reference to arthur or reader. Thanks for all of the lovely kudos! enjoyyyy : ) Tags: no TB, weird but not that toxic relationship, Arthur is sort of delusional omg, reader and arthur get into a little lovers spat, not too serious

You get a glimpse of how jealous Arthur can be.

You come up on the town Arthur was speaking of around 1 o’clock. West Ridge is not much to look at, the basics really. A saloon as always, a stable, a general store, a law man's office. There are lots of comings and goings, mostly out of the hotel in town and the other boarding houses. One main way directs the horses and wagons that stop here. The western side of the town is on a hill, and the other side dips downwards, wooden walkways bridge most things together to keep ladies from getting mud on their beautiful heeled boots and skirts piled high. Most of the working men stomp through the mud, especially the stable boys who smoke cigarettes outside of the large stable which Arthur stops at first. The smell of horseflesh makes your nose scrunch but Arthur has no flinch for that sort of thing.

In the stable, Arthur arranges for a cart to be fitted over Lucky and pays the boarding fee to stable Currant for a few days. He takes you around town as they fulfill his request. He has you by the waist, a big hand is your guide as he passes by the drunken cowboys, the timber mill workers, and some hunters. You've never had a man guide you the way he does, not letting you go for a second. Perhaps because of the delicate nature of your relationship. He fears you should bolt at any time if not fenced in by his arms and hands. You settle nicely in his palm, fitting the shape of his fingers to the dip of your lower back.

Your feet creak over the wooden boards that keep you off the main street. He nods to the propped door of a saloon with plenty of places to sit, some people eat meals and other sad looking men drown their sorrows in whiskey. Arthur stops at the bar, asking for two drinks, something sweet for you and two of the meals they have on the menu. You can count the number of times you’ve eaten at a saloon on one hand. And the times you’ve had a drink at one is certainly a big zero. You stare around, some men play a gambling game with cards and working girls fan themselves, waiting for customers. They don’t bother with Arthur, no doubt with you on his arm. You wait patiently at a table while Arthur retrieves and pays for what he ordered. You watch out of the dusty window at the town and its people.

So much activity makes you realize how sheltered your family was in Long Pine, a densely wooded area, lots of wild game and harsh weather conditions. Hot summers, fertile springs, and the occasional cold snap that had a week of snow falling, nowhere near as heavy as the snow where Arthur lives, nearer to the mountain which dominates the landscape. You rarely had visitors, perhaps a letter from your mother’s distant relative. A man coming to sell furs or animal feed. You had gone to town a few times but rarely to do much, buy some things you couldn’t get from home, couldn’t grow or trade. This is different from the small trading post your father usually went to to sell his wares and buy feed for the chickens. You liked going to town more but your Pa never saw the point. Arthur sets a steaming plate of roast carrots and beef in front of you, interrupting your thoughtful silence. The priciest thing on the menu. Then he has a glass of some sort of lemonade for you and whiskey for his own palate. Your 'homesteader's daughter' manners kick back in. “Thank you, Arthur,” you say over the chatter of people nearby, an appreciative smile pushes at your cheeks. He nods and looks at you, an almost surprised expression passes over his face, a genuine smile he tries to hide. This one isn't so cocky and easy.

“Course,” He responds, slowly but not apprehensively. He never takes his eyes off of you. Even when you look away to look at the piano man, or out of the window at the sunshine. You don't have any comparisons to make besides the relationship between your mother and father, stiff and very respectful. He was just a rigid man with hard set values and your mother was the same. Though you saw glimpses of their closeness, they never stared so intently at one another, enraptured by each other. Your mother was happy to mend torn shirts and your father happy to whittle figurines and polish his varmint rifle. Maybe your grandmother and your very presence stopped them from sharing such intimate moments. Or you haven't seen young love or in the case with you and Arthur, some sick 3 day whirlwind in which he has given you no other choice but to have him as your husband.

As always, he is quick to empty his plate. You are a bit more sluggish. You quite like hearing snippets of other people's conversations, the music. Patience seems to be one of those things about Arthur. He has such a grasp on it, he has no complaints, only watches like a hawk, scratches at his jaw and has his long legs spread open on his chair. Everyone seems to look over at least twice when you start to look at other people. Perhaps they noticed the gleaming pearl handled guns in his holsters or the darkened silhouette of a man sitting with a plain woman wearing pants. You sigh, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. You haven't said anything but Arthur acts as if you've told him exactly what you're thinking. A man looks over at the wrong moment and Arthur has terse and grizzly words for him.

“Hell are you lookin’ at?” The man whips his head away, intimidated by Arthur. He adjusts his hat, looking at you, deciding that whatever needed to be done was done. “Finished?” His voice is softer now and you nod. Briefly, you worried that Arthur might start something but his presence is enough to have people looking away. You both stand and he's right behind you. Crossing the road has you walking into the general store, the store keeper greets you. Arthur’s heavy footsteps cause his friendly smile to droop but he welcomes you both anyway. You smile back, taking a look around. Arthur has his hands on his belt following you around, his spurs click and ring. The store is a humble place that stocks the essentials and some fresh produce. Everyday items line the walls and tin cans gleam in shining labels.

“Let me know if you need any help,” the storekeeper is kind and you nod, it’s only natural for you to be polite in return.

“I will, thank you,” too bad you aren't quite aware of Arthur’s possessiveness.

“If the lady needs help then she’d damn well ask for it,” His tone is dark and a strange upset to the calm exchange. You look at him, not understanding his sudden input. The store keeper sputters, offended but also entirely aware of how capable a man like Arthur looks, how inclined to violence his tone is. “Should learn to mind your own business,” his hands seem to twitch as they grip his belt, just over the rows of bullets. You grab Arthur’s forearm. Sending an apologetic smile to the clerk, you try to rush along. It's obvious that Arthur doesn't play nice with others. He tells you to pick something to eat on the road. That you might not pass any towns on the way. You nod, picking bread rolls and cheese, some fresh fruit and carrots for Lucky. Cans are also hoisted into Arthur’s arms. Strawberries and corned beef. He pays at the register, a cold look on his face. It's incredibly awkward, the air is stale with the residual unpleasantness. You thank the clerk before leaving. Outside, you look at him, a bit appalled. You should know better than to think you can correct him with any efficiency.

“What is the matter with you?”

“Not sure what you're talkin' about,” His hand on your hip is taking you to the stable. But you wrestle from his grip.

“In what world do you live in where you threaten people in passing?”

“Hey, I ain't never claimed to be a nice feller, not even a decent one,” He has that wry smile, his hands return to trying to touch you and when you stiffen and try to wiggle away again, he has a firm hold on you. “Gettin’ flighty with me, sweetheart? My little bird feel like flyin’ away?” He has a sneer on his face, a cruel smile twists his features.

“You’re threatening me now?”

“You know, you ain’t gotta go lookin' for a new man, you got one already,” he’s talking about the store keep. He’s trying to hide it but he’s afraid that you’ll just walk away with the next man. That you’re easy. Tears gather so quickly, spring forth from you. You feel like you’ll be sick. Tongue tied and disgusted with him, with yourself, you turn and walk away. You want to get on Lucky without him and ride home. He makes a frustrated gesture as you try to rush away from him, his arms tense up before he pinches the curve on the bridge of his nose. You can hear the spurs of his boots jingle as you turn away.

“Wait!” When you don’t stop, he’s in close pursuit, hurrying to catch up with you. “I said, wait, girl,” his voice is rough and panicked. He catches you and holds you between two buildings. He sees your tears. “Calm down,” he’s commanding you, making you meet his eyes. He hurriedly walks you down behind the hotel, almost no one meanders back here. You can’t wiggle from his grasp no how, your hands continue to push at his broad chest, his corded shoulders. He looks down at you with ease, trying to pull you close.

“Arthur, stop, let go,” his hand blocks the knee you were about to shove at his crotch in all of your thrashing and panic. His face before wasn't set in such a severe expression, merely worried. But now, you feel the precarity of his mood. The lines around his eyes naturally settle into this narrowed glare, like he's pulled snarls many times before, bared his teeth like a hungry brush hunter, a beast of prey.

“Honey, that’s enough now,” his words are deadly serious, so gruff and low, they slither down your spine. You still but you refuse to look at him.

“I don’t- I can’t do this. I don’t know why I thought-“

“What did I say before all this? I said you wasn't leaving me,” he’s so short sighted, his thumbs attempt to wipe your tears, to hold your face. You frown and look at him.

“Just…” you struggle with your words, troubled by the mess that is this arrangement, this tumultuous peace you try to keep with your mind and your heart. “Arthur, get off of me,” after all he’s done, this is the most emotional you’ve been with him. Even then, there is no real force behind your words. You don’t kick and scratch. All you would do is waste your energy and upset Arthur who has no qualms with holding you down.

“Listen to me,” you have a small act of defiance for him, doing your best to keep the air of disobedience but he’s quick to correct you. His forefinger and thumb grab the fat of your cheeks, guiding you to look at him. He has your back up to the wall, looking down at you; you can feel the press of his belt into you. “Gonna give you one or two chances to listen before you try my patience too many damn times,” As much as you wish you could turn away from this, you know Arthur would never let you.

“Just say what it is you mean about me, that I-I’d walk away with any man so much as looked at me,” you left some of it unsaid but Arthur knows what you mean, the word that he keeps saying in pseudo reference of you but skirting around directly saying it about you. Your voice is meek, whiny. But you don’t care.

“Can’t say something that ain’t true,”

“What are you so afraid of, then? Is this how you treated that woman?” At the mention of his other girl he winces, like the last thing he wants is to think of her. His eyes pinch shut, his hand is on your hip, as if to comfort himself. He tries to calm down, as he commanded you to do as well. He looks away, adjusting his stance. Stalling before he has to tell you what bothers him so.

“Other nobodies sniffing around my woman don’t exactly put me at ease,”

“He is trying to sell to me, not- do whatever you want with me,” you’re exasperated, unable to see how Arthur could be so threatened by other men when he looks the way he does; over six feet of him and well over two hundred and fifty pounds of musculature and fat keeping him strong looking. You're sure he could lift any man and throw him through a window. No man in his right mind would try and take anything from Arthur after having seen him.

“You don’t know what men are like,” he chuckles but with little humor. Your mind rushes to excuse him; he’s only trying to protect you.

“I know what you’re like,” you murmur, close to him, accepting him as you soften to his advances.

“And what did I do when I saw you smile at me, talking all sweet, your please and thank you’s, hm?” He hums to emphasize his question, bowing to trap you against the wall and tuck his kisses onto your neck. You sigh and grab at the back of his hair, the longer strands are softer than you thought. “Stripped you naked and put you on my bed. You were such a good girl, sweetheart,” his hands grip you tight, up your waist and suggestively skimming over your breasts cupped behind your undergarments, all the way to your neck and jaw.

“Arthur Morgan, you are a jealous man,” you huff up at him. He scoffs and cups your face, gentle over the leather riding gloves he wears.

“Don’t try and find out just how jealous,” he dips down to kiss you, a soft one, like he’s never kissed you before. Everything he hasn’t said to you, you think, he tries to put in this kiss. His whiskers tickle your lips, tilting to touch as much of you as possible. Keeping yourself upright isn't so hard, leaning against the wood of the building. He ignores any discomfort he gets from kissing you like this, but you acquiesce, trying to put yourself on your tiptoes. It's hardly any help. You part and he has one big hand sweeping your hair back.

You follow him back to the stable, most of the things you and he needed from Lucky and Currant’s saddle had been removed, put into the cart behind you where you sit as Arthur’s passenger. He keeps looking at you but saying nothing. He nods at the stable master as he opens the door and lets you both out onto the main road and then onto the road that goes to Long Pine. You sigh, the sun still quite high in the sky. You don’t have a hat, you left your home with a woolen scarf wrapped around your head. Instead, Arthur plops his hat down on your head, far too big for you. You shake your head, letting him have his way.

You think of what should happen when you get there, what your family would say. You can’t stop letting it come back to you, the anxiety of your father seeing you on a wagon with a man who you will say saved your life. It circles around like a scavenging bird to a carcass. But for now you try to distract yourself with the scenery of the ride.

The chill comes back as you have to cross back over to the wintry depths of elevation to make your way back to Long Pine. You missed the brief warmth of dipping into the river valley. Arthur is an expert at steering the cart up some pretty rough trails. He’s slow when he needs to be and lets Lucky move at his own pace sometimes. He seems to be just as anxious, he hasn’t said anything; grips the reins so tight that it squeaks against the leather of his gloves. You rummage through the things in the back and Arthur watches curiously. You pull a cigarette out of the pack that you know he brought. You struggle to light the match you need with your fingers starting to get stiff from the cold but Arthur grabs it and strikes it against the wood of the cart. He waves his fingers and you hand him the cigarette. He has it between his lips when he lights it, waving the match against the frosted air.

“Go get your coat on,” he tosses the match easily, slowing the cart down so you can pull on his ram skin coat and he can put his own coat over his shoulders. “Said you didn’t like the smell of these,”

“My father smokes his pipe all the time. You’ve been antsy since I told you I didn’t like them,” he takes luxurious puffs, relishing in the relaxation they bring him. You usually tell your Pa to go outside but you always end up opening the window and staying in your room.

“Know just what your man needs,” he has that self-satisfied smile, slouching down and holding his cigarette. He has the courtesy to at least blow the smoke away from you. You’re getting much closer to the familiar paths and small trails that lead up to your home but you know you still have quite a few hours to go. He was right, you’d have to stop, daylight would be fading soon. Arthur has mostly driven quietly. Looking at you in his hat and giving you his smug little face. “This horse ain’t so bad,” he says quietly over the crunch of the cart over the dirt and light snow that dusts over the forest and rocks.

“He’s the perfect man,” he huffs.

“How come you don’t already have a wife?” You ask Arthur. He exhales as if you told a half funny joke. You look at him. He’s staring straight ahead, as if minding the empty road.

“Only woman I asked to be with me said no. Or at least her daddy did,”

“I don’t get the privilege of a choice?” He’s quiet for a while.

“I ain’t letting this go sideways, it's okay with me if you don’t get it, if you don’t like it. Guess I never had the proper chance to do right by a woman,”

“You think you’re doing right by me?” He heaves an exasperated sigh. He likes to float nicely with you, living in the moments of time where you aren’t questioning his actions, when he gets to feel as if he hadn’t given you an ultimatum. Marry him and keep the honor your family thinks you have or marry him while your father and mother think you a harlot.

“I am right now, aren’t I? Lettin' you see your folks, go and get what precious little you have to your name?” He gives you a bit of a harsh look. “Could'a chained you to my bed but even I ain’t that sick, could’a really treated you like nothin’ but a whore,” His words stun you into a silent gap. You’re surprised there’s a step more severe than what he’s already committed but it’s true. Arthur comes to a stop and surveys what looks like somewhere to camp for the night while you sit, weighing his words in your mind.

“Did you- did you think about that?”

“If that’s what I wanted then that’s where you’d be,” he says, jumping down and helping you off the cart. You’re reluctant to take his hand but put yourself in his arms anyway as he places you on the ground. “We’re camping here tonight, I’ll get a fire goin’,” you help him unload some of his supplies, a basic canvas tent and bedroll with a blanket. He’s got a bit of firewood lit while he adds some tinder. Arthur is meticulous, every bit an outdoors man. Dutiful and attentive, he’s built a small fire, crouching by the area where he dusted the snow away. You don’t want to sit on the cold ground so you squat as best you can, trying to keep your balance. Now that it isn't so bright, you pass Arthur his hat. You arrange your provisions, making something of a cheese roll and placing the can of beef over by the fire to warm it up a little. You give him his allotted portion and eat quietly with him, the fire quickly burning through its fuel. Arthur had pulled the wagon down to a nice clearing, only some light snow, mostly bare ground. Grass would sprout soon for the spring, bringing all kinds of grazers. The dusk pulls in fast, it’s already completely dark. You listen as Lucky jingles around in his tack, not so used to being tied to a cart. He could survive one night but tomorrow he would be grumpy. You’ll give him some carrots for breakfast to lift his spirits.

“Tell me ‘bout your pa,” he says, a command more than a question. You look up to think.

“Well, he’s a very serious man, hard working, a trapper by trade. He’s… he’s nice, always been sweet on my Ma,” you think of your father sitting by the fire in a rocking chair with your mother, how he always had time to read you a story or bring you something he found out in the wilderness. Many nights you thought he may have been robbed and left for dead or fallen off a mountain but he always came home. Your Ma would be worried sick and livid when he came through the door as if he had come back at a reasonable hour.

“Sounds like a good man,” his gloved hand rubs at his chin, over the light stubble growing there. He tilts his head down so you can only see the deep tone of his hat.

“He’s not so bad, he’ll like you if he thinks you want to take care of me. He’s always wanted me to be a married woman, not some lady of the night or a spinster,” He used to say that he had only wanted a daughter of the “marrying type”. No grifter or prostitute or even a school teacher. You think he wanted the life your mother had for you.

But even married women faced problems. Men taken over by liquor who hit their wives, men who spent every last cent on a bad hand of poker. Men who sold their wives to pay off debt. At least Arthur didn't seem the type. He didn't drink much, didn't hit you even though he could if he had wanted to; unless you considered his spankings which weren't nearly as violent as some men could be. Paltry compared to stories whispered between women in town, at trading posts.

Arthur wasn't like that. He seemed vulnerable but unwillingly so. He had shown you his journal against his better judgment. Let you peer into his thoughts, see his mind on paper. He was embarrassed but sorry that he had snapped at you. Arthur is a man of contradictions; cocky and smug yet self conscious. Hardened yet soft, rough and mean but kind and gentle. He confuses you at every turn, constantly trying to make sense of his actions.

He nods slowly, gazing at the fire and feeding it more things to burn up, trying to keep it alive. You’re sure the fire will die soon. Arthur is serious but not morose. Only thinking much too hard. You dust the crumbs away and help him finish the corned beef. He notices you stifling your yawn.

“C’mon, let’s get you to bed,” he rolls his bedroll out within the confines of the tent.

“Where will you sleep?” Your concern for him seems to make him smile at you as you crawl within his tent.

“Gonna keep watch for a while, I’ll squeeze in there with you soon enough,” you nod and lay down. Perhaps he thinks you’ll run away if he falls asleep. You curl up under Arthur’s coat. It’s warmer than you thought. You fall asleep quickly, feeling safe with Arthur keeping watch at the fire.

i love him !!! no smut this chapter sadly… jealous arthur just messes with my head omggg hes such a weenie. need this man to yell at people for looking at me wrong 😵‍💫 also need him to grab me by the face so i can look him in his eyes… cant wait to write more! Thank you for all of the feedback, im so glad to hear you guys like my characterization of this ooc arthur and all the little situations i put reader and him in!!! im always glad to talk more about this story so drop any thots in the comments :) tysm for reading !!

#red writes #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 x reader #arthur morgan x you #low honor arthur morgan x reader #❄️ snow angel #arthur morgan #low honor arthur morgan #tw dark content #tw dark fic #tw dubcon #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 x reader #red dead fandom #red dead redemption two #red dead redemption community #red dead redemption

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outdoorovernights · 1 month ago

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TIMBER RIDGE Collapsible Wagon Cart Review

Have you ever found yourself wrestling with heavy loads during camping trips, gardening, or even just a regular shopping day? You know, those moments when you wish for an extra pair of hands or a simpler solution to your hauling woes. Enter the TIMBER RIDGE Collapsible Wagon Cart with Brakes, a perfect companion designed to make your life a little easier and a lot more convenient. Why Choose…

#Cart review #Collapsible Wagon #Outdoor Gear #Product Features #Timber Ridge

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chvoswxtch · 2 years ago

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carnal desire

pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader

summary: after a long night defending hell's kitchen, matt seeks a release within you.

warnings: swearing, explicit sexual content (minors dni)

word count: 3k

a/n: all of the warnings. every single one of them. all the kinks. this was purely me going feral over the black suit of sin. i refuse to apologize. happy sinning. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

Any trace of guilt Matt felt about slipping through your window in the middle of the night vanished the second the purity of your scent enveloped him. The steady rhythm of your heart had lured him in like a siren’s song, and even though he could tell from three blocks away that you were deep beneath the blanket of sleep, he’d made up his mind that he would ask for your forgiveness later.

Matt carefully shut the window that you left unlatched just for him, keeping his footsteps light as he followed the familiar path from the living room to your bedroom. Removing his gloves from his hands, his fingers twitched at his sides sensing the soft silk slip that covered your body. His favorite. Matt had gotten it for you as a gift, and you had gone out and bought it in several more colors claiming it was the softest thing you had ever worn. Your skin was incredibly soft as it was, but covered in the fabric of silk…God that was something else.

Toeing his boots off by your door, he silently snuck around the bed to perch on the edge of it, removing the cloth mask from his face to set on your nightstand. He allowed his fingertips to trail faintly along from the top of your shoulder down to your wrist languidly, repeating the path in the opposite direction as he felt you begin to stir. He should feel bad about waking you up at such an hour, knowing you had to be up early for work, but his carnal desire couldn’t be tamed tonight, and the Devil wanted his fill.

“Wake up, sweetheart.”

Matt brushed his lips along the shell of your ear as he whispered, starting a trail of open mouthed kisses along your jawline. The feeling of his coarse facial hair tickled slightly, and even subconsciously, you leaned into his touch. Matt smiled to himself at this, always loving the way your body reacted to him. It filled him with a sense of pride and power, knowing only he could elicit that kind of reaction from you. He lightly grabbed your face in his hand to turn it more towards himself, leaning in to bump his nose against yours before placing a soft kiss to your lips.

“Come on, angel. Wake up for me.”

The labor of your breathing became lighter, signaling to him that he had gotten through to you. As you began to slowly wake up, you felt a blaze of warmth cradling your face, and realized the velvet timber of Matt’s voice wasn’t just echoing in your dreams; he was here. Blinking a few times, Matt’s shadowed form suddenly came into focus, and you instinctively grabbed onto his wrist.

“Matty?”

“Hi, pretty girl.”

Letting your eyes adjust to the darkness, you sat up slowly to face Matt, trying to get a good look at him with the aid of the glowing moonlight filtering in through your curtains. He didn’t appear to be in bad shape that you could tell, and his face was surprisingly free of blood and bruising. Placing your palm on his chest, a slight shiver ran through you feeling the heat coming off his body beneath the thin black athletic shirt he wore. As much as you wished he would wear something that could actually protect him from harm, you couldn’t deny how goddamn good he looked in the black outfit he wore. The shirt and pants clung to his body like a second skin, shaping every outline and ridge of muscle in his chest, showcasing his strong arms and powerful thighs, and curved perfectly around that glorious ass of his.

“I’m not hurt.”

There was a somewhat playful smile gracing the corner of his mouth, but the Devil was still nestled in his voice. Your lips parted slightly as you stared at him, trying to figure out which version of your boyfriend was sitting in front of you right now.

He slowly tilted his head to the side, most likely picking up on the increase in speed of your heart rate. He still held your face in his palm, staying quiet for a moment as he trailed the pad of his thumb along the entirety of your bottom lip.

“But I wouldn’t have woken you if it wasn’t important.”

“I don’t mind when you wake me up, you know that.”

Whatever remorse might have been swimming around in his conscience disappeared with those words. He loosened his hold on your face, only to let his hand fall slowly down the column of your neck, keeping his fingers loose and his hand open as he placed his palm flat against your sternum. He always gave you an option to say no before he let himself loose.

“Good girl.”

A quiet gasp slipped past your lips, and suddenly you were wide awake. You knew exactly who was sitting in front of you right now, and exactly what he wanted.

“What do you need, D?”

Matt cherished that the two of you knew each other so well, that words weren’t always needed. Sometimes he struggled to find the right ones, but you still knew what he meant anyway. You could read him almost as well as he could read you.

“You, angel. Always you.”

The aroma of your arousal beginning to leak between your thighs had him inhaling deeply, letting out a low growl that went straight to your core. His fingers began to coil around your delicate neck, trying his best to keep the Devil at bay until you granted him the key to unlock his chains.

“Then take me. I’m yours.”

God had never answered a single one of his prayers, but you always did, and you were the one thing the Devil and the man seemed to agree on worshiping.

Although you never voiced it outloud, you sensed that Matt had figured out just how much you enjoyed it when he let the mask of the charming Catholic lawyer slip and showed you the side of himself he usually only reserved for the wicked that lurked in the shadows. Matt was an exceptionally attentive lover, and your needs were always fulfilled, sometimes more than you could handle. But when he let the darker side of him take over…when he gave in completely to the Devil inside him and really lost control…well that’s when you and the Devil both got to have your fun.

Sex with Matt when he was in this headspace was usually hard and rough, not that you minded the slightest. He seemed to be hellbent on testing your limits, and you were more than willing to let him try and break you. You were just as curious as he was to see how far he could push you. It was like there was a relief he was able to find inside you that he couldn’t find out on the streets some nights, and if you were being honest with yourself, you preferred him searching for it within you where at least you knew he was safe.

But something about tonight seemed…different. As soon as you granted him your permission, something inside him flipped, and you could see it flash in his eyes like a comet darting across the sky.

There was nothing gentle about the way he grabbed your hair by the roots, forcing you onto the floor onto your knees as he sat on the edge of your bed, spreading his legs wide enough for you to fit between. He yanked your head back by your hair, causing you to let out a noise of surprise as you stared up at his shadowed features. This was definitely new, and while the way he tugged at your hair stung slightly, it was completely drowned out by the dull ache that had formed between your thighs and the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your own ears.

“You know what to do.”

Matt’s voice was huskier than usual, and it made you shiver despite the heat growing between your thighs. You weren’t sure if tonight had been a bad night, or he was simply testing your limits more than he ever had, but you were more than happy to comply. Your fingers made quick work of tearing open his belt, tugging his pants and briefs down just enough to free his cock. He quickly darted his hand out to grip onto your wrist roughly when you reached for him, making a tsk tsk noise in the back of his throat.

“No hands. Just your mouth.”

Without giving you another second to hesitate, Matt gripped onto the back of your head and guided your mouth to his aching cock, a slight hiss leaving his lips when the warmth of your tongue met the underside of his sensitive head. The saltiness of his precum coveting your taste buds made you moan, and he chuckled darkly above you as he shifted his hips upwards to slip more of himself past your lips.

“Always so eager to take my cock down your throat, aren’t you?”

All you could do was hum in response. You didn’t always get as many opportunities as you’d like to have him in your mouth. Ever the giver, Matt was usually the one with his mouth on you, and you usually had to catch him off guard or wait for him to get like this to get your turn. Sometimes it was so incredibly hard to convince the man he was just as worthy of pleasure, so when given the opportunity, you didn’t waste it.

Matt panted above you, letting out little groans of pleasure which only encouraged you to take him deeper into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks to suck him even harder until drool started to dribble down your chin. He liked it when you got messy, and based off the low growl that ripped through his chest, you knew he could smell just how much of a mess sucking him off was creating between your thighs.

“Shit, you’re pratically dripping onto the fucking floor right now. You like sucking my cock that much? Such a filthy little whore for me, aren’t you? You’d stay on your knees all fucking night if I wanted you too, wouldn’t you?”

Matt clearly wasn’t satisfied with the hum you gave him, because his hand was suddenly around your throat, nearly cutting off your air flow as he pulled your mouth off of him, bending down slightly so that your noses were merely an inch apart.

“I asked you a question. I expect an answer.”

“Yes…yes, whatever you want.”

Your voice was hoarse and breathless as it came out, and an absolutely sinful smirk split across Matt’s lips as he cocked his head to the side with a low hum deep within his chest.

“Whatever I want?”

“Yes.”

“Open your mouth.”

Without hesitation, you parted your lips, to which Matt tightened his hold around your throat, causing your eyes to widen as he dropped his voice an octave lower.

“Wider.”

There was a hardness to his voice you had never heard before, and you whimpered as you opened your mouth as wide as you could. Without missing a beat, Matt suddenly spit into your mouth, giving your throat a tight squeeze.

“Swallow.”

Your eyes doubled in size at the act, and you immediately followed his command to his amusement. Matt chuckled darkly again, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip as he snarled.

“You pathetic little slut.”

Matt suddenly rose to his full height, pulling you up with him as he shoved you onto your bed roughly. He pushed your slip up your hips, ripping your panties clean off to toss behind him as he climbed onto the mattress behind you. Even though you knew he could smell the slick between your thighs, that didn’t stop him from bending down to spit onto your pussy, nudging your legs apart with his knee as he gripped onto your hips and easily slipped his cock within your warm walls.

A loud moan of surprise tore from your throat at the sudden intrusion. Matt usually at least gave you a warning, even when he was like this, but your eyes widened when your hazy brain abruptly realized something.

“Wait-”

A loud slap echoed throughout the room as a harsh sting from his palm came down against your ass, jolting your body forward and causing you to squeeze your eyes shut.

“Shut the fuck up, and take it.”

A soft whimper left your lips as you gripped onto your sheets when he started mercilessly pounding into you from behind. It took everything in you to be able to focus enough to get the words out.

“Matt…you’re not…fuck…condom…”

Panic suddenly started to rise within your chest. You weren’t on the pill, and Matt hadn’t slipped on a condom. You knew it because you could feel everything. Every ridge of every single vein, the slope of the head, his entire cock was practically being imprinted within your walls. The heat from Matt’s body was suddenly everywhere as he leaned over you, his fingers coiling around your throat again tightly, his deep voice pouring into your ear as he growled lowly.

“No. You’re fucking mine, you understand? This is my pussy. It belongs to me. I’ll fuck it how I want, when I want. You’re gonna let me fill this tight little cunt up, and you’re gonna take every fucking drop like the good girl you are. And you’re gonna fucking leave it there, so everytime you move, you feel me. You understand?”

You should be concerned. You should be worrying about the implications about what this meant. What if you did get pregnant? What did that mean for you and Matt? Did he really want that? Did you?

But fuck it was so hard to concentrate on anything other than how good it felt to be getting fucked by him like this. Somewhere in your subconscious you decided that if Matt didn’t care, neither did you.

You could faintly hear his words in your ear, but from the way he was restricting your air flow, and the way the head of his cock kept hitting that spongy tissue within you with a vengeance over and over that made you see stars, you couldn’t answer. You felt like you were on the verge of passing out until his warm breath draped over your neck, his words echoing in your ear from somewhere far away.

“That’s it…fucking take it. Take it like I know you can. Fuck…you feel so goddamn good. You’re mine, yeah? C’mon baby, tell me. Tell me you’re mine. What’s the matter baby, huh? I fuck you stupid already? You gonna come on my cock like the pathetic whore you are?”

The headboard on your bed was banging against the wall so loudly, it sounded like it was about to go straight through. Everything in your room seemed to shake, as if there was a high magnitude earthquake happening, and even though it had been nighttime a few minutes ago, suddenly the sun was erupting right before your eyes, blinding you completely. You couldn’t see anything but pure white or hear anything but a faint ringing in your ears, and your body convulsed with an overwhelming sense of pleasure that brought tears to your eyes, every faint touch causing you to jerk away.

The soft lull of a gentle voice in your ears slowly brought you back down as warmth spread throughout your entire body, and you could just barely make out the gentle touch of someone’s palm cradling your face. After a few minutes of trying to catch your breath, you realized it was Matt’s voice whispering softly in your ear.

“C’mon baby, come back to me.”

Your body felt like it was buzzing with pure electricity coursing through your veins, and the slightest shift of his hips had you crying out in overstimulation, futilely trying to crawl away as tears slipped past your waterline. Matt shushed you quietly, allowing the warmth and weight of his body on top of yours to slowly calm you down, pressing soft kisses along your jawline and running his fingers through your hair to soothe you.

“Shh, it’s alright angel. It’s alright, just breathe for me. Are you okay? Was it too much?”

“I…I…don’t know. It’s…just…I don’t-”

“Shh, just relax. Let me hold you. Just feel me, honey. Focus on me. I’ve got you, okay?”

After a few moments of Matt kissing your cheek lovingly and delicately stroking through your hair, all the nerves in your body seemed to relax, and your eyes became heavy with exhaustion. A shiver coursed through you feeling the heat of his release starting to slip down your inner thighs.

“Matty?”

“Yes my love?”

“Stay.”

Matt chuckled softly, carefully detaching his hips from yours, causing you both to wince from the loss of contact. He quickly shed the rest of his clothes before pulling you into the safety of his arms, tugging the covers up around you while pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Where else would I go, hm? You’re here. I wanna be wherever you are, baby.”

“Matty?”

“Yes, angel?”

“We didn’t…you didn’t…what if-”

“Shh, we’ll figure it out in the morning. Go back to sleep, my love.”

“Matty?”

He couldn’t help but smile at the sleepiness in your voice, nuzzling his nose against your cheek as his arms tightened around you.

“What is it, honey?”

“Love you.”

Even as you drifted in and out of consciousness, you could feel Matt’s smile pressed against your cheek.

“Love you more, angel.”

There were a million questions floating around in your head, but exhaustion seemed to fill your blood like lead, and the comfort of Matt’s body heat coaxed you back into a slumber quickly. Whatever questions you had could be answered in the morning. At least right now, you could fall asleep knowing that Matt was safe, and he was with you.

tags: @yarrystyleeza @little-miss-dilf-lover @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042

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