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happysnowseal · 2 months

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Deals and Desires (final)

Sylus x OC | Midnight Stealth!AU

genre: smut, lil’ comedy, enemies to enemies who fuck

rating: explicit

description: You fail to find the brooch within 24 hours, so the twins suggest you offer Sylus something else in return for getting into the auction—your body. Turns out, your desires are aligned, no matter how twisted they seem.

word count: 8.8k

warnings: IMPROPER use of Evol, tentacle smut, “rope” bondage, lore from Midnight Stealth and the two chapters we meet Sylus (duh), Luke and Kieran being instigators, mentions of hentai, OC’s turned on by Sylus and his Evol and is conflicted, rough sex, breast play, fingering, oral sex (male and female receiving), double penetration, unprotected sex (this is fiction), standing 69, mirror sex, sneaky sex, electrostimulation, cum eating, multiple rounds.

a/n: IT IS DONE. IT IS HERE! I made a post saying imagine Sylus manipulating his Evol into tentacles to fuck OC with… and voila! This was born. I incorporated a lot of the game dialogue/events but also put my own spin on it. Asks, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated! 💌

You must be sick in the head.

Ever since you witnessed those black-red tendrils dissipate the man in black who abducted you into nothing but mere crimson specks, something strange awoke in you. Witnessing such a cruel death shouldn’t pique your curiosity, but beneath your horrified expression was a deep fascination for the leader of Onychinus’ powers. Not that you’d ever tell him.

A simple flick of the wrist or snap of the fingers is all it takes to summon those menacing black-red tendrils. The powerful mist would coil your vulnerable body, manipulate it, bind it—all for his intentions of resonating with you.

However, as the shopkeeper had stated, you can’t resonate with him. On a subconscious level, you’re rejecting him, scared of him, or disgusted by him. So you wonder: is it possible to fear him yet desire him also?

When Sylus proposed a deal that would aid you in your quest for the Aether Core, you couldn’t resist. You had twenty-four hours to find a brooch he had hidden somewhere in Onychinus’ base. Yet despite searching every nook and cranny, you came up short of nothing.

The first time Sylus caught you, he was reading a book on the couch. His calm demeanor didn’t match his appearance, which screamed sin. The gold-rimmed glasses on his face matched a gentlemanly scholar's, but his body was adorned in a lavish red robe, with a V-line low enough to expose his toned pecs. Seriously, who was he showing off for?

“Get out.”

Once you were caught snooping, the same black-red mist formed make-shift handcuffs that bound your wrists. You groaned, dwelling on your loss.

The second time he caught you was when he was dusting his shelves, his back toward you. He was no longer in his robe, having changed into a black dress shirt and matching slacks. Without sparing you a glance, one word left his lips.

“Leave.”

The black-red tendrils were back around your wrists and you whined. “Ugh… I was caught again…”

Third time’s the charm, right? You had your gun loaded and after cocking it, you said to yourself, “This time for sure, I’ll…”

A pair of black slippers showed up in your peripheral and you slowly looked up to see the same, steeled expression in those crimson eyes and that cursed red robe again. It was like a second skin on him at this point. He let out a weighted sigh, which diminished your confidence.

“... I know. I’ll go now,” you said, defeated. He didn’t use his Evol this time, and you’re at war with yourself as to why you even noticed. Or why it mattered so much.

The last time Sylus caught you was the worst. He was in the shower, so you seized the chance to search his bedroom. Desperate, you even sunk to the low level of animal abuse when you shook Mephisto, his crow with mechanical wings, like a piggy bank for answers.

That’s when Sylus turned off the water and panic struck you, so you hid. There was a small window of opportunity to escape, but a phone call came in, deterring your plans. He answered, you eavesdropped, and when things were getting juicy, he noticed your presence and chuckled.

“Mr. Sylus?” the man on the call said.

“It’s nothing. Just a stray cat who happened to barge in.”

This time Sylus not only apprehended you by the wrists, he lifted you in the air as black-red mist swirled around his left hand. The call ends as he sets you down on the bed, and you wish the floor would open up and swallow you whole. Not because you failed, but because you didn’t want to face the humiliation of how his Evol brought back a certain spark you thought fizzled out.

Sylus’ back was turned, selecting a record before placing it on his record player.

“Have I underestimated your determination or overestimated your intellect?” he asked. You stared at your bound wrists, trying to ignore the shiver that ran down your spine.

“You’re the one who suggested a deal. But here you are making things difficult—” you said, fiddling with your thumbs. He approached you, a stern look flashing across his sharp features.

“You’ll have to work harder.”

He grabbed one of your wrists, and red sirens went off in your head. Your mind raced a mile a minute, wondering what his intentions were as he dragged you off the bed. You commanded him to let go, and he obliged, but only after he shoved you out of his room.

“Leave,” he said, his head gesturing to your right, “I’m going to bed.”

At least he kicked Mephisto out too, so you didn’t have to face the loss alone.

Which brings you to the present. You’re scribbling doodles of the bastard as an outlet for your anger, making the stylish choice of adding devil horns on top of his head.

It’s bad enough you’ve been trapped in Onychinus’s base for who knows how long. The man who’s held you captive should be your worst enemy, yet every encounter ignites an inferno in the pit of your stomach. Try as you may, but the dark thoughts you shove in the back of your mind are bubbling to the surface. If anything could anchor you back to reality, it’d be this—remember the mission.

You were to get into the auction to find the Aether core, which you can’t do without his help. But you couldn’t find that stupid brooch, so you’re back to square one. You scrawl over the sketch of Sylus, the pressure harsh enough that the paper threatens to tear until only a tornado of black ink is left.

“You’re pulling your hair out over this, huh?” Kieran says, sitting atop a table with his back towards you. He looks over his shoulder, so his voice will reach better. “If you want to do something, maybe we can help you.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, casting the notebook aside.

“If you want to conquer our boss’s heart, you’ll have to use a different approach,” Luke says, leaning back in his chair.

“I’m not trying to conquer his heart. He’s trying to conquer mine if anything,” you retort, folding your arms across your chest as you stand. Luke pulls a book from underneath the table and slides it across in your direction. You walk over, pick it up, and drop it just as quickly like it was a ticking time bomb. “What the fuck?!”

“Strike when he’s off-guard!” the twins chorus with Kieran leaning forward as Luke makes claws with his hands.

“Yeah, I suppose anyone who receives a hentai novel would be caught off-guard! What’s wrong with you two?!” You have to tear yourself away from looking at the erotic cover, depicting an anime girl being fucked by black tentacles belonging to what seems to be a demonic being. He had it all: horns atop his head, ebony eyes, endless tendrils, and a smokin’ hot bod like Sy—wait. No. Don’t look at it anymore. Even sparing it another glance feels like corruption and sin.

Luke chuckles, taking the explicit material back and flipping it open to a specific page. “For some people, they get bored once they have everything. So only those who dare to challenge their authority can catch their interest,” he reads.

Kieran’s sharp memory allows him to quote the story without having it in his hands. "When you're dealing with such a person, you bow down and submit or take them out in one go."

“What are you on about?” you ask, exasperated they’re quoting the pornography like it’s a holy scripture. Luke shuts the book and slides it towards you again, but you grimace like it’ll taint your soul.

“If you don’t want to conquer his heart, perhaps it’d be smarter if you conquer his… desires.”

“If you bow down and submit, maybe our Boss will have a change of heart and help you get into the auction. I mean, no one’s ever offered him their body,” Kieran adds. Your hands fall to your side, balling into fists until your knuckles turn white.

“I’d rather take him out in one go,” you say through gritted teeth. It’s not like you haven’t tried. However, the crazy bastard used you to shoot himself in the chest and you haven’t been the same since. Man thinks he has regenerative healing properties and he’s all that. Pfft. “You two are insane if you think being promiscuous is the solution.”

“In the end, Boss wants to resonate with you. You don’t have to like him, but your body can. Think about it,” Kieran insists, tilting his chin down slightly. The mask he wore shields his face, but you can imagine the impish grin from his inflection. “There’s nothing more intimate than spending a night together.”

“Read the comic,” Luke says, and you can tell from his tone he’s smirking despite the matching mask on his face. “Maybe you’ll find it enjoyable.”

“N-No. This is insanity. You’re telling me your Boss wants to fuck someone with his Evol as… tentacles?”

“Now you see why no one’s ever offered their body,” Kieran says matter-of-factly.

“This is stupid,” you mutter, clasping a hand to your forehead. “I’d rather die than fuck Sylus.”

“She might die even if she does fuck Sylus.” Kieran’s quick to elbow his brother in the side, and your heart is lodged in your throat, beating so loudly like it’s about to burst. He’s right. You could. You’ve seen what his Evol could do to a person.

But you’ve also thought about what it could do for a person. For you.

“Just… think about it,” Kieran says, his voice gentle like he’s coaxing a kitten out of its hiding spot. “If you give our Boss his ultimate desire, I’m sure he’ll do the same for you. You’ve never once thought about him in such a way? You’re not a tad bit curious?”

Luke and Kieran were treading dangerous waters. These two instigators somehow burrowed into your subconscious, forcing you to come face-to-face with your depravity.

You roll your eyes to maintain aloofness, but the book ends up in your possession seconds later. “I’m taking this for research. You’re sure this belongs to him?”

“Absolutely!” they chorus and you’re not sure hearing double aids their credibility.

“Boss is least guarded when he’s sleeping,” Kieran informs. Aren’t we all?

“You only have one shot,” Luke says, emphasizing his point by sticking up his forefinger. “Don’t waste this chance. Just do it!” He gives you a supportive fist pump and you peer down at the lewd book cover again.

What choice did you have? The twins presented a rather salacious solution, but Sylus was your only means of getting into the auction. As Luke said, if you can’t conquer his heart, perhaps you can conquer his desires.

No matter how twisted.

Three hours later…

Time slips away from you as you’re engrossed in your “research.” Not only was it full of filth, but the plot (if you can even call it that), was eerily similar to your situation. The girl on the cover was a demon hunter who fucks a demon to get him to do what she needs. Every drawing is breathtaking, detailed, and graphic. The way his tentacles bent her body to his will, the various positions, how it slithered around her body—it awoke the same feelings you had the night you met Sylus.

The dialogue instilled shame, lust, and more than enough sexual tension to charge a lightning storm. You had to pause every few pages, fanning your face until your cheeks cooled enough to continue. An earthquake couldn’t pry this masterpiece from your grasp and you were determined to finish it.

Once you’re done, you slam the book shut. You take a deep breath, regaining a sense of clarity when a realization dawns on you.

This was why Sylus’s Evol fascinated you. How every time he manipulated your body, a surge of adrenaline coursed through your body until your heart nearly gave out. You indeed feared him; everyone did. But fear was a mask you’ve clung onto so desperately to disguise the dark truth.

Sylus could’ve killed you at any time, but he chose not to. Sure, he has ulterior motives, but the control he has over his power is undeniably sexy, and knowing he can’t kill you meant you had control over him too.

You’ve hidden your desires under revulsion and endless banter when maybe he was right. You’re two kindred spirits, who are more alike than you want to admit. Someone created this book to satisfy the same urges you’ve been depriving yourself of and if Sylus indulged in these fantasies, then you’re not insane for wanting the same thing.

You’ve made up your mind.

If you offer your body to Sylus, it’s a win-win. You’ll get into the auction and you no longer have to feel ashamed about wanting him.

For the mission of course.

You head to Sylus’s bedroom, standing outside the wooden double doors. A pair of Evol-sealing handcuffs are in your possession, courtesy of the twins. You place them in your back pocket and rest your hands on the gold handles, giving yourself a mental pep-talk.

All or nothing!

You turn the handles and march in, seeing Sylus sleeping in his canopy bed with his back against the plush headboard instead of the mattress.

Is he a vampire? Eh. Red eyes, white hair, gorgeous—might as well be.

Climbing onto the bed gently, you watch his chest heave, his breathing evident but it’s so light that you’re tempted to press your ear against his chest to ensure he’s alive.

“Sylus… Sylus?” you say, confirming his dormant status. A soft chuckle escapes you as you whip out the handcuffs, lifting his wrist and attaching it to the golden vintage bed frame. “This is what you get.”

Now that he’s immobile, you can’t help your feasting eyes from ogling his exposed skin. That red robe was both a curse and a blessing, a warning of caution, yet you choose to ignore it. You hover your finger above his abdomen, contemplating whether to make contact when a hand snatches your wrist, lifting it to eye level.

“Showing up uninvited at this hour… Want me to tell you a bedtime story?” he says before tossing your wrist aside. You place both hands on either side of his head and his eyes slightly widen, but he remains composed. This would be a lot easier if you straddled him, but patience was a virtue.

“These handcuffs nullify a person’s Evol for an hour,” you declare. He stares at the restraints, his face devoid of emotion before settling his attention back on you. “No matter how powerful you are, you’re helpless as of now.”

“Really?” he asks, the corner of his lips hinting at a small smile. It’s subtle and leaves as soon as it comes. “What do you plan to do then since I’ve become your prey?”

You remove your hands and lean back to sit on your knees. “You’re going to listen to my counteroffer.”

To your surprise, he nods like he has nothing better to do. Maybe the cuffs weren’t necessary. “I’m intrigued. Continue.”

Clasping your hands together, you clear your throat like you had prepared a speech when in reality, your brain is scrambled. What are you supposed to say?

Hey Sylus, do you want to fuck and use your Evol on me like tentacles? It’ll help us resonate!

You might as well put a big fat sticker on your head that says “FREE $.99! FUCK NOW!” and get it over with.

“I’m getting bored,” he states, stirring you from disorganized thoughts. You press your lips into a thin line, mustering whatever courage you have left.

“Look… from the beginning, you trapped me here, forced me to resonate with you, and even said ‘we’re the same’...” You wet your lips out of habit to calm your nerves, and he doesn’t miss it. “I couldn’t find the brooch in time and need your help to get into the auction. And you want to be able to resonate with me. So…”

“Get to the point.”

“I’m offering you my body for the night,” you blurt out. He raises an eyebrow and his usually calm demeanor breaks for the first time as a flicker of confusion dances across his face. You would take pride in that, but his face quickly morphs, so you jump out of bed with your hands up, worried he’d deny you. “Hold on. Let me explain.”

Not like he had a choice. The fact he was handcuffed eludes you for a moment, but once you remember, it eases the tension in your shoulders. He waits for you to continue, the smug look on his face not helping to ease your nerves.

“I don’t like you and you don’t like me. But you want to resonate with me, so if we sleep together, maybe… I’ll hate you less. Besides, we have similar desires. I’ve seen the way you look at me.”

His eyes glint a haunting crimson from the golden glow of his night lamp. “Do tell. How do I look at you?”

Your knees almost buckle from his deep, smooth voice. “Like… Like… you hate me.”

“Astonishing misunderstanding. Yet somehow you’ve concluded this means we should sleep together?”

You might as well die of embarrassment. “If it’s for the mission, I can detach my personal feelings. We do this and there’s a chance I’ll be able to resonate with you better. After all, what’s more intimate than spending the night together? It’ll work unless… you’re inadequate in bed.”

It’s brief, but you’re sure Sylus clenches his jaw as his lips press into a slight frown, his eyes narrowed on you with laser-like focus. You turn away from him, smacking your cheek like a spanking for being stupid enough to question Onychinus’ leader’s skills in bed.

“Are you done?”

You whip your head around. “Um… yes.”

An exasperated sigh escapes him. “You say you failed to locate the brooch, but your twenty-four hours aren’t up yet. There’s still time.”

You place one hand on your hip while the other waves him off, dismissing his words. “I’ve searched everywhere already!”

“Everywhere. But not everyone.”

The light bulb in your head goes off and you’re back by Sylus’ side on the bed, holding your palm out like an entitled brat.

“Where’s the brooch?”

His smile reaches his eyes and he gestures his free hand across the expanse of his body top to bottom. “Help yourself.”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

You run your fingers along the black lapels on his robe, checking the inside layer first. The fabric is silky smooth to the touch, but you’re distracted by how hot his skin is on the back of your fingers. No brooch though.

Next, you check the outside of the lapels and sure enough, you feel a hard, circular object. Pulling it out, you see the crow brooch with a lustrous ruby in the center. You giggle with glee.

“Do you really think I hate you?” he questions.

“Now it doesn’t matter at all. I won!”

“Deals have conditions and my condition wasn’t met. The offer has expired already.”

“But you said…”

Shit. The handcuffs on Sylus start to glow red, similar to how blacksmiths heat materials in a furnace. The metal soon melts, allowing your once prey to become the predator.

Your attempts to escape are futile, given Sylus’ quick speed, and you’re thrown onto the bed. He hovers over you and your fight-or-flight instincts kick in as you throw a punch, but he catches your wrist and pins it down without batting an eye.

“You’re pretty good at running away.”

“Let me go. I already have the brooch.” He pins your other hand down, enveloping his large hand over your clenched fist.

“I told you. My offer has expired already, so the real question is… when does yours?”

Sylus is staring down at you with crazed, crimson eyes as the sound of your heartbeat rings in your ears. His hands are warm, too warm. Like they’ll burn you alive or maybe that’s your body heat rising exponentially from how close he was. His scent wafts over you, filling your nose with pleasant notes of cardamom and something herbal, which soothes your nerves and helps you rediscover your voice.

“I… I…”

“Use your words.”

“I only made you that counteroffer because I thought I failed. The brooch has been found. Who cares about the rules? You’re the leader of the N109 Zone. You break them all the time.”

“Careful, sweetheart. My patience is running thin. I’m only keeping you around because you’re still useful. And…” He squeezes your fist like he wants to pry it open. A warning. “I truly enjoy seeing my little prey struggle.” He brings your enclosed fist in front of his chest. “Especially when it thinks it can get away from me. Now tell me… what similar desires do we share?”

Okay. Maybe if you scream loud enough, Mephisto will fly in and—

“Answer me.”

Who were you kidding, Mephisto would sell you out in a heartbeat. That damn crow better not have seen you reading pornography. And those twins… they better start counting their days.

You pull your lower lip under your front teeth, hoping to seal your answer shut for good. But Sylus’ right eye glows red, and you writhe underneath him, turning your head to the side. His Aether Core will reveal your deepest desires if you make eye contact.

Sylus grabs your chin and forces you to look at him, probing into your subconscious and witnessing all your shameful thoughts. Eerie voices fill your mind, their murmurs are difficult to understand, but the pain they bring is borderline unbearable—an unfortunate side effect of Sylus’ intrusion. Once the glow in his eye fades, you feel like yourself again. But the twisted smile on his face let you know things were far from over.

“So that’s what you mean by shared desires… You want me to use my Evol on you. No… you want me to fuck you with it.”

“That’s not true! Luke and Kieran—”

He runs his thumb across your lips, an effective solution for your yapping mouth. “Such improper use of an Evol could have devastating consequences. You are too gullible, kitten.”

Damn it. Those two…!

“Don’t call me that,” you bite back.

“Oh? You have quite the mouth on you today. First, you make a big show of offering your body to me and now you don’t have the guts to tell me exactly how you want me to take you?” He leans closer, his lips ghosting above your own with the slightest touch. “Confess your true desires, [Y/N].”

“N-No. The twins set me up.”

“That book may not belong to me, but I assure you… my desires are all my own. And they align with yours. All you have to do is confess.”

He doesn’t move and prolongs eye contact to where you feel stifled, trapped, and heated in places you shouldn’t. The leader of the N109 Zone doesn’t play around and knows what he wants and the means to get it. But you like challenging him. You like being challenged by him too.

You stay quiet because giving in too easily is what he wants.

“That look in your eyes… Are you trying to seduce me?” You form what you believe is a scowl, but it results in another teasing smirk. “As long as you have desires, there will always be deals to make. So what will it be?”

“I want to get into the auction,” you say, uttering the same script to maintain a semblance of professionalism. “That’s all.”

He sees the brooch jutting out from the space between your forefinger and thumb, easily able to lift it from you. “Don’t move.”

To your surprise, he pins it on your shirt and sits on the edge of the bed. You sit up and lean on your elbows, tilting your head at his sudden behavior change.

“Technically, you did find the brooch. I won’t go back on what I promised you.”

“Wait, that’s it?”

“You sound rather disappointed.” He gets up, and you follow suit off the bed like a lost kitten. “If getting into the auction is all you desire, consider it done. You can leave now.”

His back is facing you, and you can’t help but wonder if he’s disappointed too. You fidget with the brooch, running your thumb across the smooth jewel. Without thinking, your hand latches onto his like a magnetic force. Sylus spins around, glowering as you intertwine your fingers through his.

“Let me resonate with you.”

“So brash… you’re getting more and more interesting.”

He entertains you and utilizes his Evol, the black-red mist wrapping around his forearm like sprouting vines as he brings your entwined hands up to eye level. He closes his eyes as more mist envelops where you two are connected, and you watch with bated breath as scarlet specks float inward.

Devour him… he’s yours. He’s right there before your very eyes.

Those eerie voices are back, and you’re strangely compelled to heed their words. An ivory glow shines where your palms meet before an explosive burst of energy emerges, a spiral of lethal scarlet and radiant white from your combined powers. Sylus opens his eyes and lets go of your hand, allowing ivory flakes to cascade down like confetti.

“It’s a shame. But not a surprise.”

“We can try again. Let’s—”

“I admire your tenacity, kitten. But I think we’ve had enough excitement for one night.”

Your insides feel like an unattended kettle, whistling from immense frustration and on the verge of exploding. You can’t leave now. Not after he gave you what you wanted. There is a thing called give-and-take, and you’re not one to only take. The guilt would eat you alive.

“I don’t want to owe you. Here,” you grab both his hands, “one more time.”

Sylus lifts his arms and pins you against the nearest wall with hands above your head. Your breath is knocked out of you when your back collides with it, the impact causing the lamp to nearly topple over. His glare is murderous and your sick mind dared to find it incredibly attractive.

“Your stubbornness is what’s going to get you killed someday,” he warns. You see him lean back and remove his hold over you, but when you try to move, you feel restrained. His powers; they’re bounding you. “Is this what you want? For me to use my Evol on you?”

“Isn’t that what you want? I don’t want to owe you,” you repeat. “So I’m ready for whatever’s going on here. You can… use me for the night.” The last part was barely above a whisper, but Sylus’ hum as he folds his arms across his chest lets you know he heard you.

“Do you know what you’re requesting, little one? My Evol is dangerous,” You feel the restraints tighten and they only stop when you yelp in pain. “Yet it’s almost like you welcome it. Even if it hurts. Do you like it when it hurts?”

The tension is thick enough to cut with a knife, so you kick in his direction with all your might. Hunter instincts, if you will. But the black-red tendrils around your ankle make you sweat as he lowers your leg without breaking eye contact, pinning both ankles to the wall.

“Feisty kitten thinks she’s a tiger now, huh?”

“Why don’t you get on with it already?” you snap, impatient. Sylus grabs your face, squeezing your cheeks until your lips pucker like a fish.

“What makes you think I won’t kill you?” Like his razor-sharp words, you feel something akin to a collar around your neck. It prickles your skin while restricting the flow of oxygen to your lungs and you gasp like you’re trying desperately not to drown. You feel light-headed, but his Evol takes mercy on you and grants you enough air to breathe, though you know it comes with the price of answering his question.

“Because you would’ve done so already,” you answer, though your voice is shaky. Sylus nods, as if satisfied with your reply.

“Do you trust me?”

“No.”

“Clever girl.” The praise sounds delicious rolling off his tongue. “One final question.” He releases your face and bends down to meet your eye level. “Do you desire me?”

Having been inside your head, the answer was obvious. He’s looking for confirmation, a verbal confession to make whatever feelings you have for him tangible. The man is a walking red flag, and you’re about to wave a white one in surrender.

“If I don’t?” you question, challenging his authority one last time.

“Then I’ll release you.”

“And if I do?”

“Then… I hope you’ll allow me to have you. All of you. Deal?”

A beat passes and you gulp, your head saying no, but your body and heart screaming, “Yes.”

His hand comes up to caress your face, almost lovingly. “Yes, what?”

“I desire you.”

Sylus gives you a full smile, the corners of his eyes creasing. “You’re aware of the risks, right? With the snap of my fingers, I can tear things to shreds,” He carries out the action and as promised, his robe is shredded to bits of black and red confetti. Your eyes trail down his well-developed abdominal muscles and pronounced V-line until they settle on… “Enjoying the view?”

His teasing lilt reminds you to close your gaping jaw. Hell yeah, you’re enjoying the view. Not only was this man well over six feet, his body rivaled that of a Greek God, and he was blessed with a massive cock too? Of course. Things had to be proportionate.

“I… you… that robe was expensive, wasn’t it?” That was quite possibly the lamest response you could’ve come up with.

“It seems like the little kitten is distracted. Probably needs a toy to keep her occupied.” Sylus flicks his fingers, commanding the whirl of black-red mist to rip your clothes and you shriek in surprise. The brooch falls to the floor with a soft clink, and he picks it up, gently putting it on his nightstand. His attention returns to you and your exposed body, and you take pride in how his cock throbs at the sight. “So she likes lace. Pretty.”

You bite back a scream when a black tendril with cracks of glowing red light slithers up your body in between the valley of your breasts, tearing your bra right off. Another one coils around your thigh before it rips your panties off too. The appendages seem to multiply, wrapping your body in an intricate pattern similar to shibari. There’s no pain and they feel smooth, cooling your heated skin.

“I can manipulate things at will with the flick of a wrist. My powers are pure energy meant for destruction, and you’re here wanting to use them for pleasure.”

He leans close to your ear and nibbles the shell of it. The sensation tickles, but you’re too tense to move a muscle. His voice is husky as he whispers, “I could kill you right now. It’d be so easy…”

You hold your breath when he leans back enough to scan your face, relishing the turmoil in your eyes. “I-I trust that you won’t.”

“You know…” His index finger travels alongside your neck, then to your breast, tracing your areola in circular motions. “As soon as my Evol makes contact with anyone, people would die almost instantly and experience the most excruciating pain.”

He’s now rolling your nipple in between his forefinger and thumb, pinching it enough to hurt and elicit a whine from you. “S-Sylus…”

“But that’s not the case with you. Do you know the violence it took to become this gentle?”

You don’t know why your heart swells, but his words were sweeter than any confession. “Thank you…”

His eyes widen slightly and he stops his actions, tilting your chin up instead. “Say that again.”

“Th-Thank you… for being gentle with me.”

He closes his eyes and shudders like your gracious manners sent waves of pleasure throughout his body. A sharp inhale comes, and then he’s staring deep into your eyes like he could see your soul.

“What a good girl you are thanking me… but I must warn you. I meant what I said about having all of you. You’re not the only one with fantasies, [Y/N]. And mine are anything but gentle.”

“I can take it.”

He gives you a half-smile. “Is that so?”

“You doubt me?”

“No. But I think you might underestimate me. After all… I’m possibly ‘inadequate’ in bed.”

Shit. Maybe you shouldn’t have challenged him. But your bratty nature couldn’t leave you well enough alone. “Prove me wrong.”

Sylus’ resolve crumbles and he holds the side of your face as his lips meet yours for the first time. His pressure is gentle like he doesn’t want to scare you off, and once you two find rhythm, he deepens the kiss and you moan as the taste of cinnamon overcomes you. Spicy, very much like him.

His tongue prods its way through once your body relaxes, sliding across your own, the action far more lewd than romantic. He groans and carefully takes your bottom lip in between his teeth, pulling back in the most sexy manner. You moan and he swallows it, kissing you again with more fervor as his hands explore your body.

First, he traces your curves and trails down until his hands cup your ass, squeezing the soft flesh. Then he brings them back up, kneading your breasts and you mewl at how rough he handled them. Eventually, the kiss breaks, leaving a thin trail of saliva that connects your lips until it eventually severs.

“Beautiful…”

One word and you’re all heart-eyes for the man as heat rushes to your cheeks. If he wanted to tease you for it, he restrains himself and takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking harshly before releasing it with an audible pop. His tongue pokes out, swirling around the bud while his hand tends to the other. Your back arches involuntarily, but you’re quickly reminded of your immobility, which causes more arousal to drip down your thighs.

Sylus stops messing with your pert nipples to suck harshly between the valley of your breasts, inevitably leaving a nasty hickey. He pushes them together and then lets go, loving how they jiggle.

“I wonder…” he muses, taking two fingers to tease your folds. “Oh… you’re so wet and I haven’t even put them in yet.”

You squeeze your eyes when he inserts them in slowly, your slick making the transition smooth as he stretches you out. “Fuck… Sylus, please.”

“What? Are my fingers not enough?” He stills and the lack of movement frustrates you to no end. You want to thrash around, but you’re still glued to the wall.

“N-No. Please… please move them.”

“You beg so prettily,” He pulls them out and begins fingering you at a snail’s pace. “But it’s not enough. You can do better.”

“Please!” you exclaim. “I need more…”

“God, you’re dripping on my hand and I haven’t done much.” He moves faster, his fingers knuckle deep and curling in spots that have you clenching hard. It’s like he’s coaxing out more of your essence with each stroke and then challenges you with a third finger. “Does it feel good?”

You can hardly respond with how stuffed you feel, your lust insatiable as he speeds up.

“Yes? No? Maybe so?” he asks, amused by your struggle.

“Y-Yes… good… so good…”

Your pussy is making obscene noises and you’re feeling a warmth building in your abdomen, especially when Sylus kisses your neck. His lips are scorching hot, almost searing as if you were being branded. You submit and let him mark you, focusing on the pressure within as your high is approaching. He uses his free hand to hold yours, interlocking your fingers together.

“Fuck!” you shout, feeling like you couldn’t breathe fast enough to keep up with his bruising pace. “I’m going to come, I—”

He seals your words with another kiss, and your scream is muffled when your orgasm hits you like a gunshot. It’s brutal and intense, causing you to see stars for what feels like the longest minute of your life.

At the same time, your interlocked palms glow bright red and ivory. Unlike before, this explosion caused a surge of power to pass through his bedroom like shockwaves, destroying most things that came into contact. The roar is deafening, but all you can focus on is Sylus and how good he made you feel.

“Come back to me.”

You don’t realize when he stopped kissing you. Or when he removed his fingers. Or when you stopped being pinned to the wall. Sylus is holding you up and when you see how his eyes softened for the concern for your well-being, you’re smitten.

“I’m okay…”

His demeanor shifts, the change so sudden that it is like a phone going from light mode to dark mode. The man manipulates your body with his Evol and throws you onto the bed without a second thought. Black-red mist envelops your body again, this time cuffing your wrists in front. Tendrils wrap around each breast, your torso, and your neck, constricting tightly until you resemble a beautifully decorated present.

Sylus joins you on the bed, settling in between your thighs as he lies on his stomach as if he were a sniper. He has his Evol pry them wider, so your pussy is exposed for his feasting eyes. His arms are secured under your thighs, an extra precaution to hold you in place.

That’s when an untimely knock comes.

“Boss? Is everything alright?”

“We heard a loud crash!”

Damn it. Luke and Kieran have impeccable timing. And the way the corners of Sylus’ lips tug into a smirk instills panic in you.

“Answer them. Make it convincing,” Sylus whispers. You watch as he dips down until his white hair is all you can see. His lips latch onto your lower ones and you’re choked up, trying not to moan too loudly as he tastes you.

“We’re… We’re fine!” you exclaim, though your breathy tone is far from convincing. Sylus grunts in disapproval at your poor performance, and the vibrations are a suitable punishment. “Sylus and I have are having a disagree—ah!—ment.”

Fuck, why does he have to lick your clit right at that moment?!

“Oh no, you two are fighting?” Kieran asks, his voice cracking slightly from his concern.

“Give up, [Y/N]! Our boss is relentless!” Luke adds with a faint snicker. Tell me about it.

Sylus continues to give you kitten licks before licking a long stripe across your labia folds. You’re bucking your hips because you want more, but you’re also trying to close your thighs to escape the pleasure. It’s no use when you’re restrained and have no choice but to let him eat you out to his heart’s content. It’s when he inserts a finger to join in his salacious tongue that your eyes are rolling to the back of your head.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you breathe. “Sylus, if you keep going… they’ll hear me.”

“Then I suggest you stay quiet. What would your colleagues say if they knew the best hunter in Linkon is lusting over the leader of Onychinus?”

“I’m-I’m not!”

“Keep telling yourself that, sweetie,” He gives you a short break to clean your juices off his fingers, sucking them like they were a popsicle. “And oh how sweet you are, indeed.”

“Don’t kill each other!” the twins chorus. Sylus chuckles and shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb.

“Leave us,” he demands. “We have ways of… negotiating. Even if it takes all night…”

There’s some shuffling before you hear their footsteps recede down the hallway until silence remains.

“That was mean,” you whine. He tilts his head, swiping his upper lip with his tongue ever so slowly.

“You think that was mean? Oh… you underestimate me.”

He rises from your thighs and kneels on the bed, but his large frame still towers over you. “Wait, I—”

A snap of his fingers seals your mouth shut. You see the crimson specks floating around your mouth and protest, but they’re reduced to muffled squeals.

“Like I said before… you have quite the mouth on you today.”

Your eyes enlarge when you see a black-red tentacle rise from between your thighs. It sparks at the tip, which transforms into a cock-head to simulate a human penis. It’s not too thick, but it still makes your heart beat erratically.

Sylus takes both your hands and squeezes the right one first. “If you want me to keep going, squeeze your right hand,” He squeezes the left one next. “If it’s too much and you want me to stop, squeeze your left.”

His thoughtfulness brings those butterflies back. You squeeze your right hand and he nods, commanding the tentacle to run its tip up and down your folds. It brushes your clit every so often, which makes you sigh in pleasure. Then it enters you slowly, your arousal making things run smoothly.

It penetrates you about six inches deep before pulling out halfway, only to slam back into you with greater force. Your cries are muffled, but Sylus can tell you’re enjoying yourself by how your eyes roll back. The appendage thrusts into you at a maddening pace, your body rocking back and forth from the notion, and Sylus enjoys seeing the erotic sight of your tits bouncing. The tendrils around your breasts constrict while smaller ones branch off, wrapping around your nipples and teasing them too.

The make-shift gag around your mouth converts into another cock-head tentacle, forcing its way in so you’re sucking it off. Sylus groans at the beautiful sight of you submitting to it so willingly.

“You’re so pretty when you submit… I can’t imagine how sexy you’ll look when I take you,” he praises.

So many parts of you are being stimulated and you’re sure you’ll come again soon with how each thrust, both in your pussy and mouth, speeds up. It’s almost like they were losing control, taking you with them. It’s not until you feel a small spark from below that you yelp.

The sensation was like static electricity that you get if you rub your feet on a carpet. Not life-threatening, but a nuisance that stings for a brief second.

“My Evol is energy manipulation… that energy is hard to control sometimes…” Sylus says in a low voice. “It might even shock you.”

You can’t hear much over the squelching noises from your pussy and mouth as the tentacles work into you, hungrily, greedily, until the build-up from below is enough to cause your whole body to shake involuntarily. Your orgasm approaches and then is heightened when a small jolt of electricity shocks your clit.

The tentacle in your mouth removes itself, so you can scream until your voice gives out. The other one leaves your pussy once you stop shaking, and you are still on the bed, catching your breath. However, you feel something warm and wet on your stomach, so you lift your head enough to see spurts of cum leaking from Sylus’ cock.

His hands are still holding your own. Did he come from simply watching you?

“I’m not going to apologize,” he says without a hint of remorse. “You excite me.”

You’re flattered, truly. Especially when his cock is still erect, almost angry with need by how much it throbs. You wonder if it’s painful.

The mist around your wrists vanishes, but your body is dragged off the bed to the opposite side of the room, where Sylus’ grand wall mirror reaches the ceiling. You’re suspended in front of it and he wraps his arm around your waist from behind, twirling your hair with his other hand.

“Do you know how irresistible you are? Such temptation… that’s why I’m taking my time,” He takes his finger, swipes across your stomach, and gathers enough cum to coat his digit before lifting it to your mouth. “Open.”

You obey and he lets you taste himself, the action so wicked. So dominating. So sexy. His cum is salty and slightly bitter, but addictive.

“Good girl. Are you ready for what’s next?”

“Yes.”

His Evol controls your limbs and suddenly, you’re flipped upside-down with Sylus’ cock in front of your lips while your pussy is facing his. Your legs are wrapped around his neck and you’re taken aback at the extreme position.

“I’ve always thought Standing 69’s would be… enthralling. Always wanted to try it.”

The blood rushing to your head blurs your focus and your adrenaline spikes at the thought of possibly falling. But Sylus’ powers are strong and you’ve yet to see them falter. As if he can read your thoughts, he says, “Don’t worry, kitten. Rest assured I won’t drop you on your pretty little head.”

“It’s still scary…”

“I know. But isn’t that what makes it thrilling?” He pulls you closer by placing his hands on your ass, placing a chaste kiss on your cunt. “The sooner you finish, the sooner I’ll have you right-side up.”

Another challenge you can’t back down from. You take Sylus’ cock in your mouth and it reaches the back of your throat quickly from its impressive length. It’s also thicker in girth than the tentacle you sucked off earlier, which makes you gag.

Sylus throws his head back, panting from how soft and warm your mouth feels. He snaps his fingers to release your wrists, allowing your hands to find purchase on the back of his thighs.

“If it becomes too much, squeeze twice.”

You respond by bobbing your head up and down, which earns a sharp inhale from him. He isn’t one to fall behind, so he indulges in your sopping cunt like a glutton, moaning and grunting into it like an animal. Meanwhile, you relax your jaw so it becomes easier to adjust to his size, swirling your tongue as you maneuver up and down.

Your eyes shift to the mirror, seeing your compromised position and lewd actions. You barely recognize yourself or Sylus for that matter. He’s so engrossed in eating you out that his eyes are closed like he’s enjoying heaven on Earth. It pushes you to work harder, keeping up with his pace.

Right before Sylus is about to reach his peak, you hear another snap. He stops eating you out and you feel something bumpy rub itself against your pussy. Then Sylus’ fingers spread your ass cheeks and you feel it probing around your other hole.

Your mouth stills and your eyes widen at the sight of a black-red tendril that’s now ribbed at the tip. It slowly enters, stretching you to take each ribbed section, simulating the action of being fucked repeatedly. Sylus is back at work, inserting his tongue into your vagina in hopes it’ll distract you from the burn, but it only makes you clench harder.

“Relax…” he reminds you before diving back in again. He’s bucking his hips to remind you to continue, and you do your best as saliva pools so much that it drips down near your eyes. Everything feels too much, too tight, especially when the tentacle starts fucking your asshole. The ribbed texture only adds to the intensity and hits spots that border pain and pleasure.

Sylus’ hips begin to stutter and you’re seconds away from passing out from the light-headedness. Fortunately, he finishes in your mouth, the thick viscosity of his cum coating your throat while you orgasm for the third time tonight.

The noises he lets out are feral and if you had the chance, you’d record them so you could get off to them another night. You feel the pressure in your ass disappear and as promised, you’re right-side up again, but your limbs feel like jelly. Sylus wraps his arm around your waist, his hold secure as he flashes you a satisfied grin.

“Open.” You’re still in a daze, but the command gets through to you and you show him your mouth. When he sees you have swallowed, he hums in approval. “You really do hold up your end of the bargain. I suppose I’ll finally give you what you want.”

He grabs your hand and places it on his dick, which is slippery from your saliva. He’s still semi-erect but a few strokes is all it takes to get him up and running again. The man’s a beast and refuses to be in a cage.

Guiding you to the bed, he lays down first on the mattress, his hands clasped behind his head as he rests on a pillow. In the blink of an eye, you’re suspended over him, the black-red mist parting your thighs and slowly lowering you until your pussy barely grazes his tip. Your wrists are bound behind your back now and you’re like a puppet, bent to his will.

“What do you desire, Kitten?”

“You,” you beg. “Please.”

“You wish for me to take you raw?”

You’re nodding like your life depended on it. “Yes.”

“You wish for me to use you?”

“To your heart’s content.”

He says nothing else and sinks you onto his fat cock, and despite the many sessions he’s used to prep you, there’s still a slight burn from how much he stretches you. It feels incredible as he bottoms out, knocking the breath out of both of you.

“Oh god…” you say, trembling from how full you feel. “You’re so big…”

“And you’re so tight. It’s like your pussy doesn’t want to let go of me. So greedy.”

The mist controls your pliant body, helping you bounce up and down without pausing for a break. Sylus does a jazz hands motion with the widest grin on his face.

“Look, kitten. No hands.”

You almost growl at his cheap jokes, but his throbbing cock deters you from your thoughts, almost impaling you from its brute force. Sylus reaches out and pulls you so your chest meets his, his arm hooked around your back to hold you in place, giving you a short moment of reprieve.

“Raise your head,” he commands. You feel so drained, but you force yourself to do it and he gives you a quick smooch. “I need you to relax.”

The ribbed tentacle is back and you feel it gliding in between your ass cheeks, prodding your rim every so often like it’s mischievous.

“S-Sylus, it’ll be too much,” you say.

“You can handle it. But let me know now if you want to stop.”

You bite your lower lip, considering his words. “No. Don’t stop.”

“That’s my girl…” The tendril pushes into your asshole, taking its time as each ribbed section feels like a repeated attack, pushing the limits of your body. You’re utterly stuffed once it’s in as far as Sylus allows and you feel his cock throb in your sore pussy.

Sylus jerks his hips first and then the tentacle joins as they pump in and out of you, alternating and becoming more violent. You’re biting down in the juncture between his neck and shoulder to steady yourself, and he lets out a strained fuck, yes, thrusting up into you so hard that you sob, tears pricking your eye.

Just when you think there aren’t any surprises left, a second tentacle sneaks around to your lips, seizing its opportunity to enter when you gasp. It gags you and now all three of your holes are being used and abused, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. The stimulation is overwhelming, the pressure bottling, your pussy squeezing Sylus’ like a vice—you’re both not going to last much longer.

“That’s it, that’s it—fuck, I adore you,” he pants, closing his eyes and focusing his energy to give you his all. The tendril occupying your mouth releases you, allowing the mantra of Sylus’ name to fall from your lips as euphoria greets you.

You’ve come many times tonight, but this one saturates you in overwhelming pain and pleasure. Everything is sore and you can’t stop seeing four of everything until Sylus lifts you by the hips, coming on his stomach and not inside you. You collapse onto his chest when the mist dissipates, the two of you catching your breath.

There isn’t enough money in the world to convince you to move, not after what you’ve experienced. Yet something lifts you off Sylus and you’re about to cry again.

“No, no more…”

“Hush now,” The mist positions you in Sylus’ arms bridal-styled as he gets off the bed, his strong arms securing you. “We’re going to the bathroom to clean ourselves up. You’re staying with me for the night.”

You nuzzle into his embrace like a kitten, and a fond smile rests on his face.

“Okay.”

A/N: You made it to the end! Yipee! Thank you for giving my writing a chance. PLEASE let me know if you enjoyed. 🌹

#sylus smut #sylus #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x reader #lads sylus #sylus x you #sylus qin #my writing #lads smut #lnds sylus

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ddejavvu · 1 year

Note

Animagus reader and Sirius playing in their animal forms and Sirius accidentally being a little too rough since his form is obviously a lot bigger? He’s super apologetic and while the damage isn’t a big deal at all, reader is like “… I guess this means you owe me a lot of sweater cuddles and to carry me in your bag..” to milk it LOL

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8

Sirius curses the fact that he'd chosen to bound over the grounds with you instead of staying hidden in the shadows of the forest. It means that when his massive form crashes down on top of you after you nip at his front paw, that neither of you can immediately transform to assess the damage. You're in full view of the castle and the accompanying grounds, and he has to fight every urge in his body not to give himself away and shift back at your pained yelp.

He panics, cycles through fight and flight and decides neither will do, then ever-so-gently takes the scruff of your neck between his teeth. He's painstakingly careful, whining apologetically in his throat as he secures you in his maw and bolts for the forest. You haven't made any further outcries, not even when his grip on you had shifted your position, and Sirius takes it to mean that he hasn't maimed you too badly. He still doesn't feel good about it, though, and his paws beat roughly over the earthen forest as he searches for a place to hide.

When he's carried you well within the sprawling confines of the forest he lowers his head to the ground, setting you gently on the mossy dirt.

When you don't immediately transform back, your eyes scanning the trees for potential onlookers, he nudges you with his wet snout, snuffling softly against your fur. It's safe.

You let your transformation seize you, limbs cracking though there's no accompanying pain, and fur retracting and morphing into soft, smooth skin. You wind up splayed over the forest floor and quickly right yourself so that your back is against the tree, and Sirius completes his own transformation only seconds later.

His eyes are round and shining with worry, and you marvel at how he's able to pull such perfect puppy dog eyes even after shedding his canine form. He scans you for visible injuries, lips trembling slightly as he asks, "Darling, are you okay?"

"My wrist hurts," You observe, voice pinched in pain as you raise it. There's a slight ache there, nothing that a day of use won't shake away, but Sirius takes it between his fingers like it's shattered glass that he's afraid might cut him.

"I'm sorry!" He gushes, inspecting the skin there like it might just give up and split in two, "Darling, I'm sorry, I didn't- I didn't mean to hurt you. Are you- is it okay? Do we need to go to the hospital wing?"

You flex it in his grip, once, twice, and already the slight pain eases. You shake your head, but he perceives it as an answer for the wrong question, and his eyes light further with a flaming worry.

"No, I'm- it's okay, Sirius." You assure him, brows still furrowed together at the middle, "I don't need the hospital."

"Are you sure?" He verifies, a nervous glimmer still sullying his handsome features. You nod, twisting your wrist in his grip to take hold of one of his hands, squeezing it reassuringly.

"Yeah, I'm sure," You nod, shifting your legs to plant your heels against the ground, "Help me up?"

He scrambles to fulfil your request, hauling you to your feet and right into his arms. He holds you against his chest, touch excruciatingly gentle against your skin.

"You're sure you're okay?" He asks, and for a third time, you nod.

"Yes, Sirius," You laugh, planting your face into the seam of his button-up, "Yes, I'm okay. It only hurt for a second. I just twisted it or something. It's fine, I'm fine, we're fine."

"Okay." He smooths a hand up your back, nodding along to your repetitive reassurances, "Okay. I'm sorry."

"It's alright," You hum, wishing you were back in your feline form as you press your face into his chest. It's more soothing then, and you can hear the beat of his heart much clearer when you're a cat.

"You gotta make it up to me, though." You muse expectantly, and his arms stiffen around you, "Three whole days of carrying me in your bag without complaining."

"Three?" He asks incredulously, "One! Two, if you're lucky. Three is for hospital wing patients."

"Ah, my wrist," You feign injury, slumping against his chest as he fills the forest with the sound of his deep laughter, "Sirius, hospital wing, stat!"

#sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #sirius black scenario #sirius black oneshot #sirius black one-shot #sirius black one shot #sirius black headcanon #sirius black headcanons #sirius black hc #sirius black hcs #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fic #sirius black blurb #sirius black drabble #sirius black dialogue #sirius black fluff #sirius black x reader fanfiction

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devilevlls · 5 months

Text

Creepy Obey me! AU

𝖲𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝖻𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌, 𝗌𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖺𝗌: 𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗋, 𝗆𝗎𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗋, 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍, 𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗀𝖾, 𝗌𝖾𝗑𝗎𝖺𝗅 𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗌, 𝖽𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗂𝖼 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌, 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗉𝗌𝖾𝗌, 𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗌. 𝖯𝗋𝗈𝖼𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇. Remember: The following information might not be that accurate comparing to Lucifer's canon personality.

Lucifer

⌞Feeding Habits⌝

࿔ Carnivorous (meat-eating)

࿔ Hunting habits: Lucifer harbors a distaste for the act of hunting souls directly. Instead, he frequents a secluded area in Devildom where lost souls wander, offering a more palatable source for consumption.

However, when it comes to acquiring meat, his approach takes a stark turn. He revels in the thrill of stalking his prey from a distance. The panicked screams only serve to heighten his excitement, igniting a primal thrill within him as he closes in on his target. ㅤ

⌞Unique features⌝

࿔ Two pairs of black feathered wings, some says they can cure wounds, but no one was brave enough to try plucking a feather.

࿔ Specific scent: He emits a natural scent reminiscent of roaring flames, so potent that it can induce discomfort and even prompt coughing fits. ࿔ Height: 1,97 m ㅤ

⌞Reproductive Habits, Seasonal Changes⌝

࿔ Mating seasons: Courtship displays - Lucifer's devotion to his mate knows no bounds, often manifesting in grand gestures and displays of affection. However, don't be too quick to celebrate, for alongside his demonstrations of love, you may find an unexpected presence creeping into your surroundings. Ghostly apparitions, once mortal souls he dispatched, now transformed into loyal servants, subtly assist you with your daily tasks, a testament to his unwavering commitment to your well-being.

࿔ Nest building - He leaves a whole mess of feathers scattered across his bed, evidence of his restless nature and feral instincts. Some of them bear traces of blood, torn impatiently from his own wings in moments of unchecked impulse. Afterward, he may find himself sore and in need of assistance, perhaps even seeking your help to tend to the wounds inflicted by his own fervor. ࿔ Seasonal variations: Aggressive Behavior - He won't let his brothers come closer to you until his breeding instincts are gone. They won't try either, none of them wants to be hanged from the ceiling for weeks. Scent Marking - Brushes his feathers against you, imparting a subtle scent that escapes human detection but leaves you enveloped in a warm, weighty sensation. Alternatively, he may press his face into your neck, tracing gentle licks along your skin. As he marks you with his presence, you notice a distinct shift in the demeanor of other demons, since no one wants to defy Lucifer himself by getting too close. ㅤAnd of course, an intense craving to ravage you at least 3 times a day. ㅤ

⌞Territorial Behavior⌝

࿔ Aggressive displays/Territory defense: Lucifer wanders around the house when he has free time. Not just casually walking tho, he makes guttural sounds and stomps heavily. No one dares getting out of their room when he is passing the corridor. ㅤ

⌞Sleeping and Resting Patterns⌝

You see, there isn't Day/Night in devildom, just emptiness and darkness, so we are using as reference, RAD's daily activities to measure time. Class time being the morning, class end being twilight and after dinner being night.

࿔ Nocturnal (active during the night). The avatar of pride hates waking up early in the morning, he gets more active at night, and you can see a slight change in his behavior at this time, getting more chill than normally. ㅤ

⌞Bad/Creepy habits⌝

࿔ Lucifer loves classical music, especially cursed records. Do not dare come close to the music room when his songs start playing, or you might end up piercing your own eardrums, trapped in an unstoppable curse. ㅤ

⌞Defense Mechanisms⌝

࿔ Lucifer has the power to hear through walls and can teleport behind someone if they say his name out loud to check why he is being mentioned.

࿔ Possesses a remarkable immunity to the majority of poisonous substances found within Devildom. Similarly, he remains largely unfazed by the powers wielded by angels. Only the most ancient and powerful curses have any hope of affecting him. ㅤ

⌞Hygiene and Grooming⌝

࿔ Self-grooming: Grooming, or preening, is the meticulous art of cleaning and maintaining various parts of the body. Lucifer, in particular, dedicates himself to keeping his feathers impeccable, adhering to a strict schedule of cleaning every three days. This meticulous task demands much of his time and attention, occasionally leading him to fall asleep in the middle of his grooming rituals. ㅤ

⌞Playful Behavior⌝

࿔ How do they release stress? For Lucifer, playing the piano serves as a refuge where he can lose himself in the soothing melodies, calming his mind and easing the burdens of his responsibilities. However, if one were to delve into his more sinister forms of stress relief, a scene of horror awaits. He takes perverse pleasure in seeking out the terrified sounds of lost humans, reveling in their fear as he approaches, a dark satisfaction coursing through him at the sight of their trembling forms. Proud of the intimidating aura he exudes, Lucifer finds solace in the knowledge of his power and dominance over those who dare to cross his path. "Yes, scream, let me hear how much it hurts when I devour you. I could do this all day" ㅤ

⌞Human Interaction⌝

࿔ Responses to human presence: Annoyed, he doesn't understand why such an important demon as himself needs to be in the same ambient as an insignificant mortal. Won't attack unless you trespass his boundaries, but will threaten the hell out of you.

࿔ Domestication behaviors: None. Jk jk, he has his soft spots, but hides them very well. Give him some ultra-rare cursed vinyl. Or worship his boots. He will pretend it doesn't affect him, but seeing you bend down to his feet? That makes him excited. If you manage to earn his trust and affection, a rare privilege indeed, you may find him unexpectedly responsive to your touch. A shiver courses through him, and a near-purr escapes his lips when you scratch the base of his horns, a gesture that elicits a subtle display of pleasure from the typically composed demon lord.

Hope you guys enjoyed, please give me your opinions! Sorry for any grammar mistakes ＞﹏＜ Check my Creepy AU masterlist for more content!

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bunny-lily · 5 months

Text

Tether Me - Prologue

Pairing(s): Geto/Gojo/Reader Summary: You ran.

It's what you did in life. It's all you knew how to do. You ran, ran, and kept running and never stopped, because if you stopped, it meant you were trapped, chained, a bird with shredded wings in a gilded cage.

So, how did you end up here, tucked away into a little village in rural Japan, falling into the depths of two black holes with no way to escape?

How could you run from this? From them?

…Would you? CW: No y/n | polyamory | slow burn | slice of life | alt au - no curses | fluff | light angst | eventual smut | forgive me, there's internal monologues | I like using big words... | Gojo & Geto are whipped for you | emotionally constipated reader | (most of the tags have been condensed, you can find the full list on my ao3 here) AN: this is just the prologue chapter, sort of exposition. No bois in this one (technically), but I'm posting chapter 1 at the same time as the prologue. As a heads up, my most comfortable place for posting my longer fics like this is ao3. You can find more of my blurb thoughts on there. I'm not the best at tumblr posting, so forgive me pls ;-;

Ch: Prologue | Ch: 1 | Ch: 2 | Ch: 3 | Ch: 4 | Ch: 5 - 1 | Ch: 5 - 2

WC: 9.4k

You’ve always likened yourself to a kite, but less pretty and enjoyable.

Every time you glanced at a kite in the children’s toy section, or watched as thousands flew in the sky during festivals, your eyes stung and something bitter and uncomfortable twisted in your gut. In a way, you saw yourself in them; fragile little creatures tethered to the earth by no fault of their own. So easy to snap – to break.

They were always trapped, chained down, forever bound to either get reined back in after one had their fill of fun, or to fall like tragic angels to the ground when the winds died, and they would once again be unable to travel free amongst the stars where they belonged. All thanks to the threads wrapped around their very bones, far too strong for something that looked so thin and prone to fraying.

Yet nobody ever did release the chains. Who would willingly free their prized, imprisoned bird?

Of those pretty, unfortunate kites, you lamented with them.

You, too, were pinioned to solid ground. Your wings were clipped, feathers torn from flesh one by one until you were born in a body that could no longer fly. Responsibilities, duties, relationships – they all kept you drowning in a suffocating pile of down-stuffed pillows, filled with plumes that were once yours. They progressively got heavier and heavier, locking your limbs between illusions of comfort and safety, sitting on your chest and flooding your mouth until you choked and gagged and couldn’t breathe.

You were different from kites, sure, beyond the very obvious things. You weren’t a pitifully flimsy, inanimate toy, left forgotten in some closet, awaiting the one day you’d be remembered, taken out, and allowed to taste the breath of deities themselves again. But if you could glide in the wind like they could, oh, nothing would bring you more joy, more solace, even if you were still tied down. All for just a kiss of freedom.

You ached to be detached from everything and everyone. An untethered kite, a fledgling bird learning to fly, a paper lantern that glowed its very joy from within for all to see.

Paper lanterns.

You couldn’t stand paper lanterns, because you yearned so deeply to be one. How wonderful it would be to have a warmth alight inside you as you rose to the heavens, lighter than air.

You envied them.

They made you nauseous with longing.

They made you want to stretch your fingers high and try to catch one within your palm like a cascading star.

They made you want to reach your fist past your throat and rip out your heart barehanded, just to make the accursed thing stop pounding so goddamned hard in your stomach as it sank lower and lower with each additional candle that got to join their family of stars beyond celestia.

Because, for fuck’s sake, you belonged up there, too. Free, flaring, blazing and flickering so spectacularly that philosophers would wax poetic about you for ages to come.

It wasn’t fucking fair for you to be stuck on Mother Nature’s spine like this, burdened by the neutron star in your body that just grew more and more dense, urging you to dive into the ocean and let it snare you into its depths. You didn’t choose to spawn with a spirit disconnected from the flesh that acted as its prison, you didn’t choose to be jailed like this.

So, why?

Maybe that’s one of the reasons you were drawn to kites. You pitied them. You pitied yourself.

You weren’t a kite. You didn’t want to be one, to have your boundless form fettered down. But when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, that’s all you could ever see staring back at you. A kite with faded, worn out paints that barely clung to the tattered paper, feebly held together by thin strips of bamboo that had been aged and mottled from the inside out by time.

You hated paper lanterns. You hated kites. You hated yourself.

As the years dragged on, from the moment your brain snapped into your body with the sudden realization that you were a conscious, living, breathing person, those ugly feelings festered and spread like a fungus that refused to abate even a trace, just a second so you could catch a breath of fresh air that didn’t reek of mildew.

The seconds spanned on for eons without prejudice, destroying your cells at the molecular level with each passing birthday that trudged reluctantly along.

In the back of your mind, the sensation of being asphyxiated by your own feathers that had been shorn away from you etched itself deeper and deeper into your psyche. You became restless, antsy, the variegated world around you fading rapidly. Colors you once saw as a child, before you could latch the inherent sense of wrongness in your chest to a concept, gradually dulled until all you were left with was a world tinged heavily in gray.

The streets you were raised on grew denser, despite the amount of people living on them never actually changing noticeably. The verdant grass of your backyard turned into a dominating presence everytime you laid your eyes on it, unruly and all-consuming, demanding an undivided attention you did not want to give. The orange beams that hung over black asphalt instilled a sense of panic in you that wasn’t there before.

You used to be fond of walking around your neighborhood in the middle of the night, when you rightfully should have been sleeping. An inverted circadian rhythm suited you well when you were young, unaware that the crushing sensation under your sternum would only get worse.

Now, though, the thought of straying out where there wasn’t enough light to see straight ahead made sweat form on your chest and palms while your teeth clattered from a nonexistent chill.

Everything caved in on you. Not in a rush, not in a cataclysmic flood. No, you didn’t discern you were fighting for air until you were already gasping fruitlessly. Lost, terrified, unsure, you could only bear witness to the collapse of your own mind.

Then, one day, a soft voice whispered in your ear.

Run.

It wasn’t a threat, not some ominous warning of death looming over your shoulder. It was a suggestion, an offering, an olive branch towards that freedom you coveted. It was salvation.

Who were you to ignore the hand of deliverance?

The first time you changed your scenery, moved elsewhere, even if it was only a few streets away from your childhood home, felt incredibly liberating. After so long that you had forgotten how it felt, you got the chance to gulp down air as if you had surfaced from beneath the perdition sea after spending your whole existence beneath it.

Color returned to your world, excitement formed anew, everything felt right. Achromatic wastelands turned into kaleidoscopic meadows, fulgent and lucid. You savored it, reveled in it, frolicked and danced and lived.

…It didn’t last.

Not long. You exhaled, and it all vanished, sand swept away by an uncaring and spiteful hand.

Once you had become used to the environment, when you no longer had to actively remember where your flat was, or how long it took to get to the store, everything was washed out; water dumped on a painting that had yet to form defined shapes.

That crushing sensation had returned, and with it the reminder that, as much as you wished you weren’t, you were a kite. Tethered, perpetually confined, worn bamboo strips and thin paper threatening to rend under the drag.

Thus, you ran again. A new town, a new city, a new skyline. Euphoria nestled cozily under your breast like a second heart, purring contentedly as it curled up on the nest of blankets it created for itself.

New places, new faces, new people. All of it was fascinating to you beyond measure. It interested you to no end to learn about other human beings; their thoughts, their perspectives, their preferences. What they despised with grit teeth and barely restrained anger clenched in trembling fists; what they loved so dearly that they could never drown beneath the same waves that followed your heels, tide rising progressively.

They glowed from within, bright and budding and vibrant. Their eyes flickered with life, glazed so clearly that stars sparkled in the depths of their hues. You were drawn to them, a moth to mesmerizing fire.

You felt free. You rode that high as much as you could, for as long as it would allow.

Until a realization struck you with the force of a bullet train one night. A man hung onto your arm, easy laughter shared between the two of you as you let him take you home. Alcohol tinged his breath, but not enough to give him anything more than a slight buzz. He was a total gentleman through and through, and you listened with eagerness as he spoke about his upcoming work project, his excitement palpable with every word.

His hand linked with yours, fingers intertwined, his warm palm engulfing yours. There was a comfort in that transient window of time, one you held to your heart. It was so unfamiliar, so addictive. And as you stopped before your door, having completely forgotten of your lack of wings, you waited with bated breath for him to slant into you.

A pair of infirm lips, minutely chapped and tasting of wine, pressed against yours, and dread exploded in your gut.

He pulled away from you, lovestruck in the way his eyes shone as he looked into your own, and reality crashed down on you with horrors in three measures, shattering like broken glass in the vortex of your conscious thought.

When you stared at him, watched the way he opened his mouth to speak, you made the connection.

“I really like you,” he had murmured to you that night, nearly shy. Yearning. Hoping.

Paper lantern.

“I want to ask you out properly.”

Tether.

His words sank into your skin like ice, digging deep, burrowing into your marrow.

Kite.

The illusion of pellucid skies of the richest shades cracked, the lush plains you fantasized of often turned to barren heaths, and all those tormenting feelings came back to choke your breath with a vengeance. Sickly fingers wrapped around your throat, sunk into your mouth, dug past your gag reflex, wrapped around your ankles and wrists until you could barely lift your feet just to move forward.

You remembered with great disdain what you were. You had managed to sever your thread by running off from the pod you were born in, but it wasn’t a clean cut. The string hung off your fragile wooden bones loosely, just waiting for somebody to grab and yank, to shred your freedom away from you once again, to leave you knotted around a pole to sit like decoration and stay.

You were not free.

You were not a paper lantern. You did not gleam from your soul like he did. You did not pour light from your heart and words and touch.

You’d do anything to forget that, to prove that sentiment wrong, to show the world that you weren’t a rock thrown into a pond. You’d do anything to change the narrative, to force a rewrite. So, you did what you always did.

You ran.

You found somewhere else to live, blipping off the radar unannounced. One moment you were there, the next you had cut your lingering thread an inch shorter, following the wind blindly like a duckling to your next destination.

Each time you settled down somewhere, you had this silent hope: maybe this is where I’ll be happy.

You clung to that hope, fervently ignoring the screeching whisper in your ear that said otherwise. The next place was never the final one. It never would be, no matter how hard you tried to delude yourself into believing you weren’t a lost soul, unable to move on. Some pathetic ghost you’d make, if you weren’t one already.

Whenever you let yourself rest for a heartbeat too long, the rope you had trimmed ever shorter was skimmed too close by too-warm fingertips, and you fled again, and again, and again.

That’s all you seemed to know nowadays.

Perhaps proven now, as you sat on a train in a foreign country, absentmindedly watching rural landscapes race past the window. Your knuckles pressed indents into your cheek, the sensation unpleasant and nearing on painful, though you had stopped paying any mind to it a while ago. Your thoughts laid scattered at your feet, and you couldn’t be bothered to pick them up.

Rather, the white matter of your brain was being filled with the empty, buzzing tune of songs you’d heard a hundred times over playing through your earbuds at the loudest volume possible. It made things easier to manage during this grand, several-thousand-mile-long trip. The less thinking you had to do, the better. It was the absolute last thing on your bucket list, loitering just under the cutoff line, hoping to sneak in a few words you refused to listen to.

You couldn’t let yourself regret this. You wouldn’t.

Not now, not after you’d already dropped everything and dissipated beyond the welkin’s gaze. You had only one place you could go to at all now, and you were already on your way there.

So if you had to blast your eardrums out to bridle the whisper-shouting voices spurned by overthinking, so be it.

Rice paddies blurred by, blending in from one farm to the next. The sun reflected off the waters the stalks soaked in, absorbing the warmth the light provided and feeding the plants with the fruit of life. Somewhere along the way, you had begun counting each field you passed for no particular reason.

You thought it’d lull you to sleep like counting sheep, subconsciously desiring to sink into a dreamless abyss and catch up on the hours that had been eluding you every night for months up to this point, given how far away you still were from your destination. But your cerebrum was not kind to you, and your body refused to succumb to the tempting allure of nothingness.

Thus, you remained as you were, counting paddies as the day never quite moved forward. The sun dwelled high, trying to glare down on you, but it couldn’t get the angle right to invade the shade of your tiny cabin room on the train.

It stayed stuck to the center of the sky, mighty and proud. But then, after what seemed like only a few seconds, you blinked, and suddenly it was hanging off the horizon’s ledge.

With a slight jolt, you realized the train had decreased in speed, and was continuing to lose momentum as it approached an isolated station, all alone in the countryside. You checked the time on your phone, your eyes feeling unusually heavy and sticky. It was only early night, but you were worn down to your sinew.

Right. Jet lag. You had hopped on a plane and traveled to the other side of the planet on a whim, another desperate attempt to grab onto the concept of freedom you craved. It didn’t take you longer than a week to find a small house deep in the pastoral lands of Japan, where mountains wrapped around the valley like a scarf. You chose Japan, if only because you learned the language when you were studying abroad some years ago.

It resided in a town of such a low population, blissfully around 600, it was a wonder you could even find a train that took you this far to begin with. Of course, that meant the house was decently rundown, with a community small enough to consider it unnecessary to repair. You couldn’t care less. All that meant to you was that it was cheaper to buy it outright than rent a more maintained structure. Buying it was a risky move, given your track record of up and ditching the last bed you slept on without any hindrance, but, at this point, you were tired.

You just wanted to be somewhere for longer than a month or two. Maybe owning a house was contrary to your desires to be unbound, with no board to pin your tattered and thin wings to, sure, the pros far outweighed the cons.

Cheap shelter, little to no people, far, far away from anywhere you’d been before. Three for three.

It’d still be a 45 minute drive or so before you actually got to your new residence, but you weren’t in any particular rush. You chose the most isolated place on purpose. Less people, less deafening sounds, less claustrophobic, brutalist structures that loomed higher and higher.

Less chance of being tied down.

With a hiss and a loggy wheeze, the train settled into place, jostling you as you got to your feet and stretched your arms above your head. The muscles in your back and shoulders twinged from sitting in the same position all day, and your legs stung like sparklers, but it was nice to work your joints properly again. After tucking away your phone and earbuds, you tugged your luggage down from the overhead rack with a grunt.

You were hopeful that there’d be taxis outside the station, and that you wouldn’t have to walk to the village. Who knows how long that would take. You’d probably keel over after the first mile. The thought made you snort while you squeezed down the aisle, suitcase with your bag stacked on it rolling behind you, purse strapped across your torso. The conductor – a sweet, older man – nodded silently to you as you disembarked, waving a farewell to you, which you returned. He was nice, you remembered him greeting you when you first boarded.

He didn’t talk much, just a polite, “welcome aboard,” while the ticket collector pointed you in the direction of your cabin, which you greatly appreciated after hopping off a plane and hurrying your ass over to your required station. You were too spent for conversation.

Leaving the station was much easier than you expected. Unlike your home country, where you could get lost just by turning 45° to the left, Japan seemed to prefer neater environments that were easy to navigate. And, upon stepping out of the building, you rejoiced at spotting a few variously colored cabs waiting along the curb. Outside of one stood a man, roughly in his 50s or so, who waved you over.

“Need help getting somewhere, miss?” He questioned, and you nodded as you pulled out your phone, scrolling through your emails to find the one confirming your purchase of the listing.

“Yeah, could you take me here?”

He glanced down at your screen when you showed him the address and chuckled quietly. “Well, that’s a surprise. Last time I visited that house was some twenty years ago to take the owner to the station, rather than from.”

You blanched nominally. Twenty years? Had your house really been abandoned for twenty years? The listing claimed it was only ten max, that estate bastard. A sigh left through your nose. Too late to deal with that now, you figured. “I just purchased it.”

The man nodded as he popped open the trunk and assisted you in slotting your luggage inside. “You look like you’ve come from far away. It’s rare for foreigners to choose to live in such a distant location. Not a fan of the city?”

I fucking hate cities.

“Something like that, yeah,” you assented, thanking him as he opened the back door for you.

You appreciated his efficiency as he wasted no time dilly-dallying around. As soon as he was buckled up in the car, he was on the road, taking you down the last leg of your trip. The world outside the window streaked by in shades of violet and blood orange as the sun hovered on the edge of the skyline, reluctant to rest for the night.

“Ah, apologies. I’m Hayato Kazuhiko, you may call me Kazu, if you prefer,” he quickly introduced himself, and you followed suit. “Why’d you choose this little village of all places? It’s very small.”

You hummed. “That’s exactly why I chose it. I’m not a big…people-person, if you know what I mean.”

The older gentleman chuckled lightly. “My wife is the same,” he nodded as he peeked at you via the rearview mirror. “She had to visit the small town I used to live in one day, and it was love at first sight for us. She was immediately drawn to country life, and we’ve lived out in the neighboring town here ever since.”

“How long have you been married?”

“Twenty-five years,” he nodded, and you could see the pure love and devotion in his eyes as he spoke about his spouse. It was wholesome, and softened your heart a sliver.

He was surprisingly relaxing to listen to. Pleasant voice that didn’t grate on your ears, a few stories shared about his wife, the occasional tale about some significant structure or location. It was calming, in an odd way. He’d point out a shrine or hiking trail you’d pass by, and offer to take you to them one day to teach you its history and meaning, and you actually considered it.

It could’ve been the harmless nature about him. Even as night descended and you could only really see his silhouette, inspecting him reminded you of your father, but…better, for lack of an accurate word. You weren’t afraid that he’d suddenly raise his voice, or take you down a suspicious road – or, hell, back to the train station to send your sorry ass right back to where you came from.

“Mr.–” you cut yourself off and cleared your throat, mildly embarrassed about slipping back into your mother tongue. Japanese honorifics were something you continued to struggle with. “Hayato-san, do you have children?”

He gave a mellow laugh and shook his head slightly. “Please, just Kazu is fine. And I do, three of them, in fact. A younger son, and twin girls about your age,” he estimated roughly.

So the fatherly air to him you picked up on wasn’t imagined. That brought you a form of reassurance you couldn’t distinctly name.

“My twin girls are all the way up in Tokyo,” he continued, chest puffed with pride, “and my son is still in highschool, causing chaos.”

“Chaos?” You raised a brow.

“Yes, but not the type you’d think,” he hummed. “He’s a gentle child, but his kind nature means he’s unfortunately quite gullible and gets himself into trouble.”

A voice, the faint echo of a memory long lost, intoned in the far reaches of your lucidity; someone shaming you for getting caught up in an issue that wasn’t even your fault. Your stomach twisted with dread, and your head snapped to peer at Hayato, expecting to find disappointment shining in his eyes when you studied them through the rear-view mirror.

Except, there wasn’t any.

Concern at most, a crease in his brow as he warred within himself between protecting and helping his kin, or letting the kid learn on his own. There wasn’t any disappointment, or anger, or exasperation. You could see him reminiscing as he stopped talking, focusing more on the twists that followed the mountain’s curve, and all you saw was just…love, and happiness.

The churning in your gut settled, instead replaced with a sense of hollowness. Not the kind that made you sick; rather, it was like you had a gap in your chest where a puzzle piece was missing, while his was filled with a perfectly fitted heart.

Bittersweet, possibly, but only distantly so. You felt happy for someone who was borderline a complete stranger to you, someone you shouldn’t even care about beyond tipping him well for driving you to the middle of nowhere in the dead of night, but you did anyway.

Maybe I could have had that too, your thoughts mutedly supplied, if I was normal.

Then again, you didn’t want that, not really. Though you couldn’t tell if that was just who you were as a person, or a result of the coals perpetually under your feet, it didn’t change your mind.

Nothing could.

You were sure of it.

Smooth concrete eventually became a densely packed dirt road when Kazu turned off the main path, the car vibrating as the wheels rolled over loose stones and gravel. It didn’t last long, thankfully, as the shabby looking pile of wood came into view, albeit dark since the stars overhead were too dim to illuminate anything much.

“Where we are, miss,” he spoke as you both climbed out of the vehicle and met at the trunk. He opened it to retrieve your luggage, and you pulled your wallet out of your purse and counted off a few bills, wondering what the right amount to give to him would be.

It was hard to translate currency worth when things were valued differently in this country. Your trip abroad was a long time ago.

“Is this enough?” You peered up at him and held out the bills.

He took one glance at them and chuckled deeply. “That’s far too much, really,” he replied as he pulled only two of the strips out of the small stack you were holding. “Be careful with your money while you adjust to the currency of this country. Do you need assistance with your luggage?”

“Oh,” you analyzed the remaining money in your hands before tucking it back into your wallet. You really hoped he took the right amount needed and didn’t undersell himself. “No, I’ll be okay. You got me here in one piece, that’s all I could ask for.”

“Are you sure?”

Your head bobbed as you inspected your suitcase and bag, popping out the handle. “Yes, I am. Drive safe, Kazu-san. Thank you for taking me here.”

His chest rumbled with a laugh. “Please, it’s my job. You are pleasant company.”

“Likewise,” your lips rounded into a smile as you bowed politely. It was small, and you were tired, but it was genuine, the first one you’ve had for a long while. “Goodnight.”

Kazuhiko waved his hand in farewell, bidding you good dreams as he climbed back into the taxi and drove off, leaving you alone.

Your lungs deflated.

The air here was crisper, stinging your throat in a pleasant way as you inhaled slowly. Faint hints of pine and sap drifted across your senses. Nothing indicated any heavy stenches of smog or gasoline or gods know what litters the streets of every downtown city you’d been to before.

It would probably take you a while to get used to, and you oddly didn’t want to, if only so you could admire the fresh fragrance every time you stepped outside. Your muscles relaxed, surprising you as you hadn’t noticed just how tense you were until you were perched outside the front gate of your brand new (old) lodging.

Turning to face it, you groaned upon the realization that it was on a hill. Said hill was tiny, mind you, but a hill nonetheless. You found you couldn’t give much of a shit right now, just yearning to lay down and pass the fuck out for a while. Maybe the rest of tomorrow, too. A few weeks, actually, if you were allowed to choose. A coma sounded wonderful.

“Home sweet home,” you mumbled to nobody in particular as you pushed open the gate and virtually jumped out of your skin at the near shriek it gave. Okay, it had to have been longer than 20 years, that was loud.

With your heart fluttering rapidly, you made a note to deal with it (and everything else) later and trudged up the incline, almost eating shit and dying when the toe of your boot caught on the edge of a stepping stone. Another thing to add to the “deal with later” list. You had a feeling it would just keep growing exponentially.

Finding the key was easy, for better and worse. It simply sat in the door knob’s lock, very safe and secure and definitely not putting your house at risk of…what?

There was nothing in there, evident when you pushed open the front door, which wailed just as loudly as the fence gate. You felt the blood drain from your face. Sure, the interior was empty, but the house was a wreck. Peeling walls, strange, crusty scent, and a sticky floor at the entrance that made you grimace when your sole pulled off it like velcro. You knew that it was custom in Japan to take off your shoes at the door, but fuck that. Absolutely not. You were not walking in any part of this house either in socks or barefoot.

Everything was virtually pitch black as you delved further in, so you depended on your other senses, and the ability to smell was one you wished you didn’t have. Your nose wrinkled as various rotting odors welcomed you, making you immediately regret going through all this.

Morning. You’d deal with it all in the morning.

Practically sneaking on your tip-toes, you explored the open space, trying to find the room that smelled the least and was passable to sleep in. Granted, there were really only two actual rooms down a hall going opposite of the kitchen besides the restroom and washroom, but the bigger one seemed decent.

At least you had a sleeping bag and wouldn’t be conking out on the bare floor. You went through the motions of prepping for bed mostly by habit, doing the bare minimum seeing as you didn’t have much of a choice. You brushed your teeth with the water from your tumbler, located and unrolled your sleeping bag, and climbed under the rustling top after yanking your shoes off, zipping it up as far as it went.

Admittedly, the setup was kinda janky, but it got the job done.

You couldn’t be bothered to change into pajamas.

With your head plopped on probably the least comfortable pillow you had found to bring with you (also the only one that would fit in with the rest of your shit, it was practically a pillowcase filled loosely with sporadically placed lumps of stuffing), you closed your eyes, and your body finally let sleep take over.

─────•(-•ʚɞ•-)•─────

Morning was not pleasant. Surrounded by the musty scent of gods-know-what, back aching from the restless sleep you got from your pitiful sleeping bag and the hard floor, you were groggy beyond belief and desperate for fresh air. And a massage. And a cigarette.

You didn’t smoke, finding the heavy and pungent funk nauseating, but the temptation was there. You felt you gained a little more understanding of smokers.

Brushing the thought aside, you pushed yourself up into a sitting position and rubbed the heel of your palm against the sore spot on the side of your skull. You would have believed someone replaced your pillow with a rock if you hadn’t intimately known that lump of fluff. Or, rather, lack thereof.

Red lines, tender to the touch and tingling a little, were pressed onto the arm you laid on for most of the time you slept, causing you to hiss when you traced your fingers against them. It seemed to be barely past dawn when you reviewed what was out your window, leaving you questioning just how long you slept, if at all.

Figuring you wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep anyway, you shoved yourself out of ‘bed’ and groaned when every joint in your body popped and every bone creaked. Hell, you weren’t sure you’d be able to sleep tonight again. Not here, anyway. More problems for future you.

She’d certainly be happy about that. She already had so much shit to handle.

The growl of your stomach reminded you that food was something you needed to consume to continue living.

Reluctant as you were to do anything, you figured going out by starvation was 1) probably not the best idea, and 2) you wanted to be out of this dingy torture shed.

What was unfortunate was that you, like a smart person, didn’t bring anything more than snack bars and those weird trail mixes with the fruit cubes that you just threw into your bag without much care. It was really the only motivation you needed to walk your sorry self out the door.

After you brushed your teeth and changed your clothes, of course, being very careful to not let anything touch the floor.

Stepping out of your home through the shabby and creaky door with your purse slung across your chest, you were met with the grandiose sight of mountains surrounding you on every side. They rose high, aching to brush the sky and touch a star, just one, just once, just for a second. Covered in thick greenery, you figured the faint yet present scents of cedar, pine, and other woodsy tones were carried down into the valley from the steep inclines.

You couldn’t see any of these details nearly as well when you were dragging your tired ass to this place with ink covering the sky in a thick veil, but it truly was breathtaking.

Had nature always been this green before?

Having only done some cursory research on the village – namely, population – you didn’t bother giving yourself time to actually inspect photos of the tiny rural town. From what you’d seen anyway, pictures could never do it justice. A velvety breeze brushed against your cheek, prompting you to tuck your hair behind your ear and pivot towards the direction the gale came from.

Your breath left you in a silent ‘oh’, mesmerized by the incredible view of the rising sun you had. It shone valiantly and radiantly through the gaps it had carved out between the towering peaks itself, illuminating the land in shades of brilliant gold with its splendor.

For perhaps the first time in your life, you felt…nothing.

Not a sense of hollowness, nor a void in your chest, no. A peaceful kind of nothing, as if not a thing in the world could take your mind away from this newfound elysium you found in sharing the morning’s shine with its source.

Invisible fingers caressed your jaw, threading through your hair with the gentle touch of adoration, as if you were delicate.

You hated to be treated like you were easily breakable, as fragile as glass, but this sensation was consoling, rather than degrading. The wind cherished you, not akin to a brittle figurine, rather as someone who was beautiful and worthy of gentleness unsullied by pity or licentious intentions. As if you were someone to be worshipped and revered.

A mother combing her fingers through her daughter’s hair, humming a lullaby only she knew the tune of.

Perhaps it wasn’t impossible to find what you were searching for. You didn’t know what it was exactly, a question without an answer, but it gave you a place to start.

With a deep breath swelling behind your ribcage, filling your soul with air untouched by sickly city pollution you were so accustomed to, you turned and began heading down the beaten dirt path that led into the heart of the village. The early summer warmth was pleasant on your skin, not too hot given the time. It seeped into your cold fingers and made them ache a little less with each minute going by.

While the town you had chosen was visually quite a bit older in style, with smaller structures dotted about reflecting traditional Japanese designs, there were some modernities. Electricity was, fortunately, one of them.

Based on the fact that you found and bought the listing online, you figured there was likely a way for you to get your hands on some Wi-Fi here, too. You’d probably die without it.

The nearer you drew to the center of the population, the denser the structures became. Not to say they were rubbing walls, but neighbors were only a short few steps away, compared to the distance between your own house and the one closest to it.

Minka houses in significantly better condition than yours spanned either side of the road as the terrain shifted from soil to asphalt. They were beautiful, and you bet that living in that kind of house in this kind of place was either absurdly expensive, or dirt cheap, with no real in-between. You were personally on the latter end of this, which probably wasn’t a good thing.

Doomed by the narrative once again.

Off in the distance on an elevated surface, you could see what you thought was a Wayo Kenchiku temple, if you had to guess. Its overlapping roofs were a deep green in shade, nearly black. They protected the desaturated brown walls of the building, and you were taken aback by how easy the temple was to see from where you were.

It sat across a wide river, one surprisingly calm as you approached it. It rushed along, springing with glimmering waves that shimmered under the light and frothed white around raised boulders. Despite it coming across as fairly deep, you could see clear through to the bottom, with the water itself being a refreshing shade of clear blue. A bridge spanned the rift, made of sturdy wood that had dark railings protecting either side of you, matching the aesthetic of your surroundings.

The bridge whined under your weight, but didn’t shift, giving you some reassurance that you wouldn’t go crashing through the planks. It led into the most packed section of the whole area, with structures built closer together, bearing a more modernized likeness, while retaining its unique characteristics.

In truth, though you remained apprehensive, the voice that scratched at the back of your skull everywhere you went and pestered you to run, run, run, had quieted. You hadn’t registered it, the silence, too focused on taking in your new surroundings as a serene blanket covered the thoughts that usually pranced wild and free in your cranium, putting them to rest with a whispered mercy:

This feels right.

It didn’t take you long to spot what you figured was the local grocery store. The bell above the door chimed as you stepped inside, peering at what products you could see on the shelves and aisles from where you stood. Being an anxious little creature, you double-checked to make sure you had your wallet, as well as the translated bills within. Last thing you wanted was to embarrass yourself in a place where everybody knew everybody.

Reassured, you chose a random aisle and headed down it, skimming the products to see if any of them appeared even vaguely familiar to you. Besides cans of soup and tubes of Pringles, there wasn’t much for you to grab onto. Sure, there was ramen, but you didn’t have a way to boil water. Cereal and milk, maybe?

Shit, no, you didn’t have any cutlery or dinnerware. Unless you wanted to be a sad raccoon and eat raw cereal straight from the box, but you weren’t that desperate.

Yet.

Mentally crossing out your options as you went through them, you nearly knocked over an entire row of items when you almost ran into an older lady who stood in the middle of the strip, watching you.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” You hopped back a foot, raising your hands in front of you placatingly. “I-I didn’t see you there, am I in your way?”

The woman laughed and shook her head, her smile reminding you of a grandmother that’d sneakily give her grandkids candies while their parents weren’t watching. “You’re quite alright, I was actually wondering if you need help?”

“Oh, uh…” Bashfully scratching the back of your head, you glanced at the various bags of foodstuffs beside you and debated your choices. Say no, when it was painfully obvious how green behind the ears you were, or set down your pride and ask for assistance.

Your stomach chose for you, warning you to suck it up and get food before it began eating itself.

The woman’s chuckle was heartier the second time around, her eyes glimmering with mirth as she motioned for you to follow her. Feeling a bit like a scolded child, you trailed after her while she wove her way around her store towards the produce section at the back. She pulled a random fruit from the thunder-rain-shelf-thing (you honestly had no idea what it was called) and rubbed it against her apron before handing it to you.

“Eat,” she insisted.

You blinked rapidly, peeping the fruit, the sign for it, then her. “How much…?”

The lady waved her free hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. Eat, I insist.”

You were going to argue further, but a deep cramp in your gut had you sinking your teeth into the sweet and wonderfully-textured treat. As embarrassing as it was, you borderline moaned as you chewed, quickly taking another bite. Whatever it was, it tasted divine.

This time, when she directed you to move with her, you followed without hesitation. “Thank you so much,” you mumbled as she pulled out a chair from behind the counter and urged for you to sit on it.

“It’s nothing, I can’t let you go hungry, now,” she swept away your worries. “You’re new here,” she stated, rather than asked.

You nodded through another bite, waiting until you swallowed before continuing the conversation. “Yes, I got here last night.”

“Oh? Are you visiting someone?”

“No, I moved here.”

Her brows raised. “Really, now? Who are you staying with?”

Mid-bite, you stopped to address the matter. “Oh, no, I’m not living with anyone. I purchased the house just outside the village.”

The way her eyes widened was nearly comical. “That place? Now, that’s a surprise.”

If you had a nickel.

“That’s the second time I’ve heard that now,” your lips tugged into a frown and you stifled it with another chomp into the sweet object in your hand.

At that, she simpered mutedly. “I apologize. I’m merely awed that it was still standing, let alone that someone had bought it. Last I heard, there hasn’t been anyone living there for, oh, maybe 20 years or so.”

The realtor, that dog. He did lie to you after all.

You scornfully hoped he was enjoying spending your money.

Picking at your cheek with your free hand, you looked away with a nervous giggle. “Yeah, it’s…not in great shape. I have a lot of work cut out for me.”

“You’re going to try to repair it?”

“Yeah. Keyword being try.”

“I’m not sure that’s a wise choice.”

You sighed. “Me neither, but I don’t have much of a choice now.”

The woman shook her head, smiling regardless. “You let me know what kind of help you need. There are plenty of handymen in this village of ours, I’m sure they’d be happy to help.”

“Oh, that’s very nice of you, but…I’m sorry, I didn’t ask for your name,” you pouted, hurriedly introducing yourself.

“Just call me Granny. And I won’t take no for an answer, missy,” okay, now you really felt scolded. “I won’t stand for you trying to fix up that cluster of wood by yourself, it’s far too dangerous. And you shouldn’t be staying there while it’s in that condition, either. Give me a moment, let me find someone you can stay with.”

Panic rose up in you and you waved your hands frantically in front of you. “N-No! It’s fine, I’ll– I’ll figure something out, really, don’t worry. Please.”

Granny eyed you suspiciously, her hand hovering over the landline on the wall. “Are you sure?”

“Yes! It’s fine, I’m fine, I promise.”

Her eyes remained squinted, even as she lowered her arm. “Alright, if you say so. But if you need any kind of help, big or small, come to me right away, okay?”

Relieved you wouldn’t have to interact with more strangers, you nodded and deflated. “I will.”

“Promise me, young lady.”

“I promise.”

She grinned brightly and ruffled your hair. “That’s a good girl. Let me pack you a few things to take with you so you have something to eat.”

“Ah– wait, I…I’m not very good with currency yet,” you halted her sheepishly. The prices were still confusing as fuck to you. Man, how the fuck were you going to manage this when you get a job? If?

“Nonsense, it’s on me. I won’t charge you.”

Sorry, what? Did she do that for every person she met five minutes prior?

“But– but that’s not–”

“Finish up your peach,” she asserted as she was already walking away with a bag in her hands that wasn’t there a second ago. What was it with grannies and having some weird, innate magic?

Your eyes darted down at your half-eaten peach, surprised to learn that it wasn’t some foreign fruit you’d never even heard of before, let alone tried. It was an exceptional blend between succulent and rich; easy to bite into and chew without pouring juice all over yourself.

The fuck kind of peaches have you been eating before?

Sensing you might be buying these often if they were this good, you had well-nigh inhaled the rest of it by the time Granny came back with a stuffed bag.

“Here you go, dear,” she held out the shopping bag to you, which you took graciously after tossing out the peach pit into the small trash can by the counter.

Glancing into the bag, your lips shifted downwards. It was filled with a few different fruits and veggies, a couple bags of snacks, but mostly packaged food that looked like it could be eaten as is without needing to worry about cooking it. Your guilt skyrocketed. “Granny, this is too–”

“Don’t worry about paying. Save your money for the repairs of that home of yours.”

Your head shot up, eyes widening. “I can’t–”

“You can because I say so, young lady,” Granny puffed out her chest proudly, using a motherly tone that easily put you in your place, much to your bafflement. You didn’t even listen to your own mother like this. “Come back in the evening, I’ll have something cooked up for you.”

“You really don’t–”

She made brushing motions with her fingers, shooing you off the chair. “Off you go. There’s a lovely little pergola in the park, go have breakfast there. Just turn right when you leave and keep walking straight.”

Flustered, you let her push you along out the door, your confused brain trying to catch up. “Granny–”

“I’ll have a list of handymen for you when you return,” she informed you right as she managed to get you out the door. “Explore the town while there’s still daylight!”

And just like that, she was back in her store, sweeping with a broom that you swear materialized out of nowhere. You stared at the shop for a good minute, blinking dumbly until you processed whatever just happened.

You still weren’t wholly sure. You went in, expecting to grab a bag of something random to ‘feed’ yourself with, and left with a bag full of free food from a woman who spontaneously decided to give it to you.

The fuck. She’d go bankrupt if she just kept giving strangers sustenance off her own back.

Your own feet seemed to carry you along as you exhaled through your nose and took her instructions to heart. Too late now, you’d feel bad if you went in and returned everything. It’d be insulting at this point, and you were hungry, anyway

A cooked meal did sound lovely as well, discomfited as you were. You had never met your own grandmothers – not in person at least, so you had no idea if grandmothers were simply like that or not. Regardless, you had a feeling she was going to fill that role in whether you liked it or not.

Luckily, you were drifting towards like. She did give you free food, after all, and was going to find help for you. That part you were more apprehensive about, however, stubbornness and introversion making you want to be stupid and attempt to pick up carpentry out of nowhere.

All you could do was try to accept it and sigh, taking in the sights, stores, and dwellings as you walked past them and towards the park. A couple shops caught your eye, particularly a clothing boutique, and what could possibly be a hardware store. You weren’t certain, and didn’t want to find out yet. The prospect of entering one and facing the big ass sign that said ‘you don’t know what the hell you're doing!’ was too daunting to approach for now.

It didn’t take you long to get to the park. In fact, it was such a short walk that it bemused you. A population of 600 people seemed larger on paper than it was in reality. Most of the town was behind you, granted, but the uncanniness was uplifting, in a way.

It didn’t feel claustrophobic. The trees in the park were closer together than some of the buildings outside it, and they smelled so good that it knocked you back a step. The entire wild garden carried the fresh perfume of sweet and fresh vegetation, from blooming flowers scattered about and the grass underfoot, to the rustling leaves above. You couldn’t recall the last time you were in a park, let alone one that was as vibrant and alive as this one.

The pergola was easy to find. It resided in the center, right beside a large pond that you saw was filled with koi fish when you got close.

They swam to-and-fro, carefree, intermingling, playing, and searching for food.

Your stomach twisted when you made an unintentional connection in your mind. They reminded you of kites. Pretty, ultimately trapped.

The koi fish, however, didn’t seem to mind one bit. Not that you could understand fish language. They just went about their business calmly. It perplexed you, didn’t spending their lives in a single body of water bother them? Didn’t it make them depressed?

Could fish feel depression?

Shaking your head to rid it of the peculiar journey your mind had gone off on, you set the bag down on the table under the pergola and settled into one of the chairs, reaching to dig through your options. Of the items present, you opted to munch on a sandwich Granny had tossed in with everything else, bundled in saran wrap and clearly made by her.

While you were skeptical of pre-made food bought in a grocery store like this, one sniff had you biting into it ravenously. You were way hungrier than you thought as you devoured it, trying to will yourself to slow down enough to at least savor the taste of it. Your earlier guilt and trepidation disappeared three bites in, and you were now very much anticipating Granny’s handmade cooking if this was the kind of sandwich she was capable of creating.

You questioned again if all grannies were like this, or if you lucked out. Either way, if it meant you didn’t have to struggle with food for the time being (or ever, if Granny let you mooch off her forever), you didn’t mind getting spontaneously adopted by her at all.

About halfway through your meal, the koi fish in the pond caught your attention again. They were gorgeous animals, graceful and sleek with scales that twinkled iridescently when the sun flickered over them from between the gaps in the canopy above. They had you mesmerized, sights focused solely on them as they showed off.

Maybe they had managed to hypnotize you, because you decided to tear off a piece of the ham, rip it into tiny pieces, then throw it towards the pond. There was a large splash as all the fish rushed towards the food, making you snicker.

A sort of childish glee bloomed within you, persuading you to indulge them a smidgen longer before you finished off your food. The park seemed like a sacred place where nothing could touch you, where the lands would remain lavish and healthy, and where you could let all your worries fade away.

Arcadian – that was the best way you could describe it. Placid, halcyon, grounding, mellow. You could go on and on, really, but you–

The hairs on the back of your neck prickled when you sensed that someone, or something, was watching you. Heat grazed against your nape, slow, measured breaths right behind your ear. A kiss from a pair of soft lips that never reached your skin. A demanding presence wrapped around your figure, a prey caught in the trap laid out precisely by a steadfast and salivating predator.

Ghostly fingers slid down your shoulders, crept over your forearms, and encircled your wrists, holding them in place with a deceptively lax hold. Something firm and wide pressed against your shoulder blades, keeping you between it and the table.

Your heart kicked in your throat, preventing you from swallowing anything more than a tiny gasp.

And, like the cornered quarry you were, you shifted slowly to peek from the corner of your eye, avoiding any sudden or abrupt movements. You expected to find a beast hovering over your shoulder, eagerly anticipating your reaction.

There was nothing.

Only foliage greeted your wide-eyed inspection, expansive and untouched since you came here. The feeling of being hunted on had evaporated as soon as you checked, and though uncertain of this verdict, you chalked it up to being in totally unfamiliar territory. A result of a soundless, featherlight brush of wind, a critter in the foliage envying the fish you fed, lasting no more than a sigh.

Your brow furrowed as you searched through the plant life, seeing not even a hair out of the ordinary. That dovish sensation the park carried returned like it had never left to begin with, coaxing you to let it go and relax.

Maybe that was your cue to leave.

You shook off the lingering sensation with a shiver. Everything was okay in the wooded pasture, and as tranquil as your surroundings were, you knew you’d have to face the elephant in the room eventually.

You dusted yourself off as you got up to dislodge any lingering crumbs, carefully packed everything back into the bag, and took one final look around. This place would become your safe haven, you determined. Already, you were thinking of coming back, the memory of your adrenaline spiking fading rapidly. Imagining returning here gave you that minor push you need to fill your lungs with courage and turn to head back out the way you came.

You could explore the town later. Right now, you needed to address the state of your new stead and gauge what laid ahead of you first. Maybe it’d give you at least an idea of what you required to get started on all of this, though you doubted you’d come out of witnessing it in the full glory of the sun knowing more than you did now.

Absentmindedly, the milieu filtered into your subconscious, automatically noting small landmarks here and there to assist you in finding your way around the streets while they still confused you, until you had learned to traverse them and knew every path and alley like the back of your hand.

(Just in case, you assessed the back of your right hand. You know, to reacquaint yourself with it.)

Glumness overtook. You knew you probably wouldn’t stay here for too long, no matter how much you liked it. You could fix up the house, flip it, and head off someplace else again in pursuit of something that probably didn’t exist.

It’s always been this way for you. The same old pattern, the same old story, the neverending book that looped in on itself over and over, caught in a wormhole where the exit was the entrance.

So it was easy to convince yourself to not get attached to the valley, nor the people, nor that damn sticks-on-bricks abode. Not even the grass filled with flowers and protected by tall trees you had already found yourself longing for.

It was easier this way. This was all you knew, after all.

You had it all figured out.

Didn't you?

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#Tether Me #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto x reader #suguru x reader #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #satosugu x reader #chimera writes

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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 6 months

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Being Kidnapped HC (ft. poly!Mates Bat Boys)

Warnings: I’m on a bat boys kick 🙃 has nothing to do with the fact that i'm missing my ex and now just want a strong male (or three) to take care of me lol, blood mentioned, violence, protective boys, polyamorous, drugged reader (faebane)

Summary: Bat Boys rescue their mate

It’s bound to happen

No matter your own power, there will always be others in Prythian who think kidnapping you will give them some sort of leverage over your winged mates

Others kidnap you to experiment on you. Why is it that the Cauldron gifted you three mates? Many wanted to know what made you different than the other fae who only have one mate

Whatever reason they had, it kept you constantly on your toes when you didn’t have one of the boys by your side.

Even in Velaris you were always on guard. You could never be too careful

Many were close calls where you were able to escape

The worse cases were when the boys had to intervene

One of Az’s shadows always accompanied you everywhere you went. Finding you was never a problem for them. There was nowhere in the world they wouldn’t be able to find you

That always set whatever worry you may have at ease

What you never looked forward to was the bloodshed that would follow

“Just take me back. Take me back and I’m sure you’ll be forgiven.” You’d try to talk your captor out of whatever plan they had in store for you. Give them a chance to change their minds.

Usually that earned you a slap across your face and vile words thrown your way

You’d have no choice but to sit back and attempt once more to pull at your restraints. Faebane still flowed in your system. There was no way you could use your magic, let alone your strength.

No way to telepathically contact your mates because of the Faebane

But you can feel the comforting coiling of Az’s shadow around your wrist

And slowly, the shadowsinger appears in the room you are kept captive

The guards assigned to watch you are easily killed by Azriel who doesn’t bother looking at them. Concerned eyes concentrated on you. “Are you alright, sweetling?” He frees you from your shackles and cups your cheeks in his scarred hands. Something dark flickers in his eyes when he spots the red mark on your face from where one of your captors had slapped you.

You could hear the sound of battle going on the other side of the. Well, mainly screams as your fae captors were torn limb from limb by Rhys and Cassian.

The splattering of blood against stone walls hits your ears. You can only imagine the carnage

They tried to shield you from most of the violence but you knew that this offense would not be taken lightly from your mates. Only seeing red and hungry for the flesh of whoever dared to lay an aggressive hand on you.

When quiet finally reined, the door opens to reveal Cassian. Wordlessly, Azriel hands you over to Cassian's strong arms. You don't care that he's covered in blood and gore. He's smiling widely at you.

"Sorry we took so long." Cassian would apologize and hold you closely to his barrel chest. He cocks his head over to the doorway. "Rhys has the boss. I'm sure he'd appreciate your help with him."

Azriel, like always, leaves you with a kiss to the cheek before he leaves.

"Shit, they really banged you around. . ." You catch Cassian curse under his breath.

"Nothing I can't handle." It wasn't the worse abuse you'd been dealt with. "Their punches were as light as a feather."

Snorting, Cassian places his lips against your brow. "You wanna go watch the interrogation?"

"Fuck yeah I do."

Just because you were accustomed to it, didn't mean you wouldn't be petty as fuck

later when they got you home, Rhysand refused to let you out of his arms. You were cleaned up on his lap. Rhysand had a few specks of blood on his face that he didn't bother to wipe away. When you take it upon yourself to reach up and clean it, he turns his face into your palm and kisses your fingers.

Safe and sound, surrounded by your bat boys.

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sorceresssundries · 4 months

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Down by the River

Summary: The brain is defeated, the absolute halted, our heroes have won, and yet... victory isn't all it's cracked up to be. One-shot.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of violence, destroyed city, mentions of death.

Word Count: 1.4k

Looking out across the water, away from Baldur’s Gate, you could almost trick yourself into believing that the flecks of orange and red shimmering on the surface were caused solely by the sunrise—the first kiss of light from the split-lipped smile of a new, hopeful day.

Reality is a dagger, and the Chionthar reflects the flames and chaos from the burning city, spreading them over its still surface to shimmer back at you in mockery. You don’t stop looking at the river, too scared of what you will see when you turn around.

Baldur’s Gate is a broken city. The shops you once visited, the temples where you prayed, and the homes which welcomed you had fallen. Bricks now crush the bodies they were built to shelter.

You stand on the dock with your lover, feeling as though you have been sprinting across slipping sand for countless days, and now… stopped.

You have reached the end, and there is nothing here—only calloused hands, blistered feet, and grief that stretches and settles into every part of you it can find. The nether brain is dead, the tadpole in your head has shrivelled away to nothing, the crown is discarded, and the chosen of the dead three slaughtered, yet you are numb to relief.

“It’s over” Gale’s hand is on your shoulder, trying to turn you so you can rest your weary head against him. You can’t move. You can’t turn around. He slides his hand to your waist, to wrap his arm around you. You can’t bear to have any kind of joy, or hope, or comfort offered to you. You don’t want it. Bile burns in your throat.

He is speaking to you softly, his words as delicate as moth wings. You can't hear him. Your mind is your own again, pounding with the sound of death and destruction—it's enough to make you miss the wriggling distraction of the tadpole.

“We will rebuild,” you manage to catch him saying.

For a second, you think you hear an animal screeching in the distance, but the following sobs tell you it’s a person. A mother, maybe, who has just found the body of her child. You won’t turn to find out.

“Tell that to her.” You don’t recognise your own voice. You want to bite the words at him, but your voice has no teeth, and all you hear are the hollow words of a grief-wrecked wraith. He has no answer. No quip, no lesson, no comfort. There is nothing to say, no spell to cast, no illusion strong enough to cover the sound of screams and the smell of acrid smoke.

Your gaze remains fixed on the water, your mind churning in tandem with your stomach. The Crown of Karsus is in there somewhere, broken into pieces and buried under rubble. Left to sink into the silt of the Chionthar, as was always the plan.

Unless…

Karlach and Wyll were in Avernus, bound to a life of hellscapes and blood wars. The scorch marks from the portal, from her flame-swaddled body, were burned into the wooden dock behind you.

Astarion had been banished back into the darkness he had spent centuries trying to crawl out of. He had sprinted out of the light he once basked in, and the Gods only know where he is now.

Seven thousand souls had perished in a failed ritual. The corpses of Tieflings were shadows that could not be lifted in the curse-cleansed heartlands. Shadowheart had fought with the ferocity of a wolf to cast aside her Goddess and save her parents, only to watch them die in front of her. Rolan was dead. Cal and Lia and Zevlor and Florrick. All gone.

Lae’zel

You feel the muscles in your hand flex and spasm at the thought of Lae’zel. Your heart twists.

You had tried. You had conjured up desperate deception, attempted silver-tongued persuasion, and even rage-fueled intimidation, but it had not been enough to stop Orin the Red from plunging her knives into Lae’zel's eye sockets and splitting apart her skull.

She had been twenty-two years old, and burned with more courage than anyone you had known. It had not been enough to get her to the end, to this scorched dock in the shadow of Baldur’s Gate. You were not able to save her, and the thought of it sizzles wrath through your numbness.

Is this what victory tastes like? Blood and bile and fury. If only you had done things differently. The still, flame-orange water in front of you starts to froth in the wake of your rage.

“Tav?” Gale is trying to bring you back to him. Has his voice always been so small?

You remember how he had sounded when you first discussed the crown. After finding that damned book and seeing the desperation in his eyes, hearing the soft plea of his words which soon turned petulant and sharp.

A hindrance, he had called you. He had pouted and pleaded, and any wavering uncertainty in your decision to keep the book from him had hardened to steel.

He had not learned. Ambition still trickled and hissed through his veins, pumped around by his poor, desperate heart. Mystra had been right to keep him in check, just as you were right to do the same. He could not have the book. He could not have the crown. It would drain all of his sweet, kind mortality from him until all that was left was another God to keep the wheel spinning. How many would be crushed beneath it, beneath him? You could not allow it.

Each night, the Annals of Karsus had lain heavy in your hands. The weave, usually rosewater-scented and soft as silk, was suddenly sluggish and scraped like sandpaper in the air around its blasphemous contents.

That had not stopped you. You poured over its pages in the quiet, leftover hours where night slipped into morning. The book was heavy—not just in weight, but in the burden of turning its pages and deciphering its contents. Each word felt as if it had to be pulled out and held in hard focus before you could understand any of its meaning.

It took work, but you got there. You were just as capable a wizard as Gale, after all. The weave fought you at every turn, but with dedication the riddle unravelled and the answers became clear. The crown could be reforged and reused by someone worthy enough to wear it, and you knew how to do it.

Think of what could be done…

You could cool Karlach’s engine and bring her back to the life she deserves in the city she loves.

You could shatter the iron-clad shell of Wyll’s pact as though it were made of glass.

You could grant Astarion a life of deserved sunshine.

Maybe…you could change even more.

What if you could go back? Try again? Use the power of a God to Wish for another chance. You could do things differently, leave no one behind.

You could make different decisions. You could make it so your words would be convincing enough to still Orin’s blade and save Lae’zel. You could be stronger, wiser, tougher. You could step out of that pod on the Nautiloid a different person, if you wanted.

Another attempt, a restart, a new run.

Is that too much to ask? You are not marred by towering ambition; you don't want to raise armies or infect the minds of innocents. You don't care about gods and monsters. You just want another roll of the dice.

“If I salvage the stones… I could retrieve it…” You aren’t talking to anyone in particular; you just need it said out loud. “I could change things”

Gale is in front of you now, crouching slightly so his face is level with yours, cupping your face and wiping away tears with the pads of his thumbs. His eyes are full of panic, and he is saying things, such sweet, wonderful things. He loves you as a mortal; he needs you to stay here. There is nothing that can be done, he insists, there is always another way…

“I will find you again,” you say, an oath to the man who forgot his Goddess. You will not let him forget you. “I will love you all over again, you’ll see.”

And you mean it; your love was meant to blaze across universes, you could feel it.

His voice once again quiets as all the possibilities thunder around your head with bright new clarity. Your decision is made, your path clear.

You turn to stare at the burnt-out shell of Baldur’s Gate.

Forget ambition; you would become the God of Second Chances.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction

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curioussesame · 5 months

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curiosity anon fic masterpost

curiosity kills

Chilaios, Rated E, 12k words, smut with feelings Laios jerks off every night during his partols, and Chilchuck pretends his doesn't know. Until, that is, Laios gets curious about whether Chilchuck does the same, and everything spirals out of his control.

A Tangled Path (But All Roads Lead to Us)

Chilaios, Rated E, 35k, marriage of convenience Two years ago, Laios hired Chilchuck for an unconventional job: to travel home with him and his sister so they didn't have to face their parents alone. Two years later, as their party hunts down ancient-elf treasure hidden in a cave, Chilchuck is still dealing with the monumental decision he made on that trip (and the very annoying feelings he has for the man who changed his life.)

Curse Bearer / Curse Breaker

Chilaios, Rated E, 29k words (unfinished), arranged marriage Beyond that door, his husband was chained and muzzled, completely naked, waiting for Chilchuck to consummate the marriage with him. Hardly traditional, but those were the precautions the Toudens felt necessary. They also insisted on the room being kept in complete darkness—they were afraid he’d turn and run if he so much as looked at him. Chilchuck is not a coward. He's going to fuck the monster.

good dogs get dirty

Mickuro, Rated E, 3k words, porn without plot After washing up at the baths together, Kuro is so fluffy and clean that Mickbell can't resist cuddling with him, perhaps a bit more affectionately than usual. When he realizes the effect this has on his companion, he immediately knows that he wants to see this through all the way, he just needs to convince Kuro that's a a good idea (and that he's not too small to take him).

Dungeon Cravings

Chilaios, Rated T, 1k words, fluff and humor Chilchuck is pregnant with Laios's child, and he starts to crave something they ate while in the dungeon together. Of all the things it could have been though... why that?

kept safe

Chilbell, Rated E, 2k words, ambiguous relationship When their parties are attacked, Chilchuck takes Mickbell and hides him to keep him safe. They can still hear the carnage outside, though, and in the cramped dark, he can feel every shiver and hear every whimper from the terror-stricken half-foot laying under him. He acts without thinking, just wanting to comfort Mickbell (and maybe also himself.)

Assumptions Made

Chilaios, Rated E, 9k words, resolved sexual tension Laios turns himself into a half-foot, and whether or not it's an accident, the change it stirs in their relationship definitely isn't.

On Command

Chilaios, Rated E, 2k words, porn without plot Chilchuck had always been a bit of a masochist, but it was hard to trust other partners with that knowledge. With Laios, though, he had the perfect balance of blood-lust and dog-like obedience. He wanted to bite, but he’d only do it on command.

a loving captor

Chilaios, Rated E, 4k words, kidnapping role-play Reality settles over him, cold and damp, like the omen of fog just before dawn. He’s been kidnapped. Bound and laid bare upon a bed. Blindfolded, so he can’t see who’s done this to him or where they’ve taken him. (Chilchuck and Laios play out a fantasy, and Chilchuck falls deep into immersion.)

straddling the gap

Mickuro, Rated E, 2k words, gender exploration Mickbell realizes something about himself. Kuro loves her, unyieldingly.

Pay for It

Chilaios, Rated E, 14k words, sex work/past trauma Chilchuck is done with that life, but it still haunts him. He hopes he can keep his ghosts hidden from Laios.

sweet like honeysuckle

Chilaios, Rated E, 3k words, macro/micro The party is split up, Chilchuck has been turned into a tiny fairy, and Laios is the only one there to look after him. Soon enough, they discover the shrunken size and the wings aren't the only changes that have taken place, and once Laios has a taste of him, he can't stop until they're both completely spent.

loyal dogs have no owners

Mickuro, Rated E, 4k words (unfinished), changelings Mickbell and Kuro leave their party behind after learning that they planned to use Mickbell as monster bait, and somehow wake up in changed bodies. Mickbell is now a kobold, and Kuro a tall-man. Some things change and some things stay the same, and Mickbell isn't sure if their relationship will be in the former or latter category.

Deep-Crimson Desire

Chilaios, Rated E, 3k words, fisting Laios and Chilchuck learn a lot about each other, that night. Especially about Laios's body and how much it can take.

#chilaios #chilchuck #laios #mickbell #mickuro #chilbell

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gaysindistress · 7 months

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Limits of a Fae Heart - six

Pairings: Azriel x Reader

Summary: With war looming over their heads, the Inner Circle is desperate for a solution. The one they found comes in the form of a resurrected female who’s fated to not only their Shadowsinger but once to their enemy as well.

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: cursing, blood, gore, fighting and war canon level violence, detailed emotional description of torture. Reader is tortured but the description is more focused on her emotional state rather than the physical actions. The king makes an appearance so that’s a whole warning in itself.

One | two | three | four | five

A/n: I did things a little differently for the final part and the last half of this is in Azriel’s pov. It’s marked with his name as the heading so it’s clear when it switches!

taglist: @isa1b2h3 @dr4g0ngirl @sidthedollface2 @p4ndawrites

Time stands still.

The minutes cease to pass and the hours come to a halt.

The light of day fails to pass through the barred windows, blanketing this cell in darkness.

The places shadows may have danced are nothing but voids of that same darkness.

Night and day bleed together with no marker of the passage of time that occurs.

Food comes at irregular times to prevent me from gaining a sense of time.

Time stands still after what feels like a millennia of isolation and solitude.

The King made his presence within hours of Azriel and I drifting to sleep. He called for me from the war camp and beckoned me to him as he waited for me with a cruel smile. Taunting words and terrifying threats were thrown at me but none shook me to my corner than the sight of seven Ravens converging upon the tent where Azriel slept. Whatever magic the king had used to hide himself from us extended to his warriors, rendering Azriel defenseless as he slept completely unaware of the dangers that lurked around him. The bond begged me to wake him, warn him at all but I pushed it down and forced it to be silent as I faced the king. Any attempt to wake my sleeping mate would ultimately lead to his brutal torture and death.

The king glowered at me as he watched me try to scramble a plan together but seemingly to no avail. The shadows that had bound me the night before followed me and anxiously waited for me to give them a command in the treeline behind me. As the king told me of his plans to take Prythian by siege, I sent the shadows away and told them to hide until we left. They cried and writhed from their place in the trees but didn’t rush towards me.

“Tell him that everything will be okay. Tell him to not worry about me. Tell him everything you hear now and take him back to Velaris. Make sure that Rhysand gets the information he needs and keep Azriel safe. Do not let him come for me; matter what he does or says, do not let him come for me,” I’d whispered to the distressed creatures and they listened. Their cries of agony and anguish could be heard for miles but they listened to me and did not find their singer until the King took me back to Hybern.

Now it is here in Hybern that I’m facing the consequences of my actions; the effects of allowing myself to feel anything other than suffering. With my arms held up by chains and my wings outstretched in a painful way, having been bolted to the ceiling above, I'm forced to kneel on the unforgiving stone floor of my cell. Whatever blood that coursed through my veins seems to become solid as it has stopped leaking from my wounds. My breathing is so swallow and soft that anyone passing by would assume that my body was left up as a warning to all other prisoners.

However those who know better, those who know what other signs of life to watch for, don’t dare to come any closer to me, the beast of his own making.

A male appears at the entrance of the cell with a disgusted look on her pale features. Moving as he is one with the air, he flicks his wrist and the gates unlock before he steps into the cell. The smell makes him wrinkle his nose and hold his head higher to block out any stench. As if you escape the stench of death and blood in a place like this.

I'm at the center of the room, unmoving but chuckle lightly when I sense that he’s near.

“Come to torture me some more?” I ask.

The King of Hybern sneers at me for speaking to him and with another flick of his wrist, I groan out in pain. My body tenses from the pain that was inflicted upon it but aside from the low groan, I make no other indication that his actions harmed me.

“I need answers.”

“Ask and I’ll decide if I’m feeling generous today.”

He stalks around me, ducking under my massive wings, dragging a sharp blade nail down the sensitive and aching muscles. Once again I can’t react even though we both know that the pain threatens to take my consciousness.

“That little Shadowsinger has ruined you,” he sneers again as he finishes his predatory circles and kneels down to get a better look at my face. “He’s made you think that you have any value outside of being my little spy.”

I lift my head only enough to lock eyes with him, my irises flickering with rebellion and hatred as I speak, “I’m not your spy anymore. I haven’t been for years now otherwise you wouldn’t be pulling risky moves trying to one up a pompous High Lord and his band of friends.”

The king cuts me off with a dagger through one of my wings but I only howl out in laughter, throwing my head back to fully reveal my face to the guards at the entrance. They shrink back when they see my face covered in dirt and caked in blood. My features are severe and sharp thanks to the thick layer of filth but achingly beautiful nonetheless. Arched brows raise at the King’s frustration and a laugh ghosts on my lips. My flaming eyes never leave his as I smirk at the attempt to hurt me and gather information.

“Do not speak to me like I’m some foul beast.”

My voice is harsh but soft, calm but chaotic, dark but light as I speak, “The only foul thing that I know of is you, the Failed King of Hybern. Or do you simply prefer your highness now? I’m not privy to the gossip of the world anymore.”

The King pulls a face of coldness and stone the moment I start speaking again but it falters at the last name that I call him. His eyes flicker with disgust as he poses his own question, “Who are you to demean and belittle me for my actions? Have you forgotten that you were…”

A smirk widens across my face as I cut him off, “There will come a day when all those you have come to trust will turn on you and you will be forced to become the male you truly are. And when that day comes, I will happily watch you burn the world you’ve come to love.”

Death hadn’t been a sweet release from the torment I lived through under the King’s violent rule nor in the arms of a male I thought I loved more than myself. Instead I spent years in limbo on my island, never fully dying but never fully living. The only reprieve I’ve found in it all is the fact that I can’t feel the bond to the king anymore. There is nothing where that jagged line used to be and it’s been silent in my head where he used to torment me day in and day out.

However it’s rather short lived.

Now as I’ve been brought back, life is proving to be just as painful as before. What little peace and joy I’d thought I’d found was destroyed when the king took me. I don’t know how long it’s been but I’ve felt nothing but my own suffering and Azriel’s through the bond. Every second of every day I feel his despair as he searches for me, tugging at our thread in attempts to reach me. I feel his disappointment and heartbreak when I don’t respond, when I can’t respond. Not a moment goes by in this cell where I don’t feel every single step he takes towards a complete downward spiral.

A downward spiral of my own is fast approaching as I awake to the sounds of battle surrounding me. Fallen warriors scream from their lethal wounds while monsters created by dark magic laugh as they devour all around them. A female’s earth shattering scream follows the sound of bones cracking. I snap my head to the side where I see Nesta holding a broken Cassian while the King looms over them. He turns to look where the Ravens deposited me in a heap of torn flesh and weeping wounds.

“Come,” he beckons to me and I feel the sharp teeth of his naga hounds sink into my wings and drag me towards him.

Nesta’s eyes are wide with panic as she looks between Cassian and me but she hardens her face and stares at the king.

The hounds halt with a jarring tear to my wings and I let out a shaky cry. One comes to stand before me, holding eye contact with me as it just stands there. I have half a mind to tug on my bun but something tells me that it wouldn’t work. The hound lets its jaw drop as a deathlike scream rips from it and through the still tense air around us.

The call of inevitable death.

This is the long awaited end that I thought would never come and I can’t help but welcome it.

I’m tired.

So tired.

There is only so much of myself I could’ve given and I reached my limit the day that the king left me on that island. I reached that limit years ago and now I welcome the release even if by the jaws of a naganound. What a sweet release it would be to allow myself this one peace, a peace that no one can take from me now.

The hound shutters while several more start to circle me. I can feel their eyes boring into me, begging their master to give them the command so they can attack finally. They grunt and growl at me. Their unspoken message is the same as the one that sings from my heart:

Give in. Give up. Let it take you. Give in. Give up. Let it take you. Give in. Give up. Let it take you.

I don’t see the king give the command until they descend upon me like starving wolves who haven’t eaten a good meal in months.

I barely feel their teeth or their claws as they rip and tear at my body. Like true servants of the king, they attack my wings first and shred at the membranous limbs. My vision becomes blurry as tears fill my eyes. Agonizing pain radiates from my back and threatens to crush me but I don’t move. My pulse races even though I tell it to calm down. It’s half panicked, half confused but knowing all the same. I can’t stop this.

Nesta and Cassian can’t help either. Azriel…

Sweet sweet Azriel.

He is nowhere to be seen and I thank whatever gods and goddess that are listening that he isn’t here.

My ears fill with the sounds of tearing flesh and the squelch of blood while an endless sleep begs for me to close my eyes. My head feels light, everything around me starting to spin and darken. A feeling of nausea creeps up as the coppery smell of my blood invades my nose.

I let them tear my wings from my body no matter how much pain it brings me. I had loved them, cared for them, and protected them my entire life. They’ve been my prized possession for so long, a symbol of the strength that I’ve created and wielded. A symbol of my strength and mine alone. I hated them at first because of who wanted to take advantage of them but as I learned to exist with them, I learned to carry them with pride. I never forgot that it was my wings that landed me in the clutches of the king but there is a dignity in creating good out of evil and I had done that with them. I had created good with these wings no matter how evil others wanted them to be.

A weight is dropped from my back and I hear two thuds in the mud around me. The nagahounds stop their assault on me once my wings hit the ground and move their attention to them. Every breath I take, albeit ragged and shallow, sends waves of throbbing pain through my back and chest. It’s exhausting and I feel truly sick as I watch them play with my wings like they’re toys. Sweat is pouring from my forehead, my hands are clammy and trembling and my teeth are gritted. For a second I consider listening to my body which is telling me to let go, to give up and fall in the arms of that endless sleep. I take a deep breath, then another and then another. It becomes harder and harder to swallow the pain, to ignore the sensations and the voices soothing me to sleep.

So I stop fighting it and allow it to take me.

A state of calm returns to my mind and a warmth washes over me. I drop my head into the mud and it threatens to drown me but my inner peace won’t let me care. With hooded eyes, I stare as the nagahounds continue to tear my wings apart.

I feel nothing.

After what seems like forever, I hear the muffled sounds of those deathlike screams and someone calling my name. The voice calling my name begs for me to keep my eyes open and stay with them.

It’s useless to call me back from the brink of death but this voice does it nonetheless. Strong arms lift me and I’m cradled against an equally strong and blazing warm chest. A gentle wave of cedar and chilled mist scent washes over me as I let my heavy head rest between their jaw and shoulder. Whispered gilded words of reassurance take the place of the sounds of my wing’s destruction. My eyes flutter closed as I let myself find another peace in the embrace of these familiar arms. I barely feel us winnow from the battlefield before everything fades to black.

Azriel

What the fuck did that bastard do?

What could have possessed him to do this to her? To my mate?

Her rapidly cooling forehead against my neck feels like a blade slicing through my skin and it takes everything in me to not winnow back to the battlefield and slaughter the king.

Her breathing is slow, too slow and her pulse is so weak. Fear grips my insides as I winnow us into the Town House. I almost crumble to my knees when I’m wrapped in the familiar scent of my home and it gently whispers to me “you’re safe. Rest easy now.”

“Madja!” I shout into the air, hoping that the healer remained here. Madja peaks her head out of the sitting room and curses under her breath before disappearing back into the sitting room.

“Azriel,” she calls appears at the doorway, waving me in. As soon as I enter the room, she orders me to set y/n face down on one of the couches and hands me a pair of scissors to cut away the rest of her shirt. The scissors tremble in my hand as I gingerly cut at the bloody fabric and expose the mess of torn flesh and muscle. The healer glances at my shaking hands and puts hers on them, stopping them for a moment. Gentle brown eyes watch my chest rise and fall rapidly and her brows furrow even more.

“If this is too much, I can call someone else,” she tells me in her ever soothing tone.

I shake my head, strands of hair falling into my and add to the wild look I no doubt have about me. She doesn’t seem to want me there anymore but she permits me to stay and takes the scissors.

“Fetch me a basin with fresh water and a cloth please.”

She’s giving me a task so I don’t become frozen in shock. It fails the moment my hands are emptied. With nothing to ground me to this reality, all I can do is stand there and stare at y/n’s back where her wings once stood tall and proud. Her usual comforting cent is fading around us. Her aura is cooling. Her breathing is even slower. Her pulse is too weak for me to hear.

It’s all fading.

She is fading.

Madja gives the task to the town house instead and instructs me to sit. A chair appears behind me and with a flick of her wrist, she urges me to sit. I do. Fall more like it though.

I’d been cutting down several Ravens when I felt her side of the bond awaken again. The wall that had been separating us for weeks now came crumbling down and I was hit with every ounce of emotion that had been kept from me. Being hit with weeks worth of her suffering and yearning to be home nearly dropped me to my knees. I’d sent my shadows out to find her and within moments, I was on my knees in front of her with tears in my eyes.

Even alone Madja makes quick work of cleaning and bandaging the base of her torn wings. Once satisfied with her work, she moves on to the smaller but no less significant claw and teeth marks. My shadows nuzzle against me, making soft whining noise and distracting me from the wreckage of flesh before me. I drop my forearms to my thighs and let the shadows wrap themselves around me. Their embrace is the closest to a hug they can give me but I’ll take it.

“Is she alive?” I find myself asking before I realize it.

Madja looks at me with raised brows, “You can hear her heartbeat can’t you?”

I barely spare her a glance from beneath my lashes.

Thump thump.

I can hear it. It’s faint but I can hear it.

“Azriel,” Madja starts, “she’s lost a lot of blood. Her wings were quite literally torn from her body, there’s no telling the true extent of her injuries just yet.”

I lift my head with tears pricking my eyes and her tone softens. “But she’s alive. She will have a lengthy recovery ahead of her but she’s alive and most importantly she has you to thank for that.”

My jaw tightens and I bring a hand to rub at the taunt muscles. Flicks of blood paint the tan skin of my hand but I ignore them.

“I didn’t do anything. I let her be taken and held prisoner for weeks.”

Madja sighs and stills for a moment. She simply stares down at the unconscious Fae on the couch. “There was nothing you could’ve done to prevent it and you know that. Do not commend yourself for things that you had no control over.”

A small gasp muffled by couch cushions draws all of our attention as she dips down to look at y/n’s face.

“Easy,” Madja mutters to her as she places a soft hand on the back of her head, “don’t try to move or you’ll hurt yourself more. You’re in Velaris and safe now.”

My shadows skitter around me and beg to go to my mate. I don’t let them and wait for Madja’s signal. She asks her if she would like to go to her room and there’s a weak but clear reply.

“Where is Azriel?”

Madja’s brown eyes flicker to me and she nods so I stand and walk on unsure legs to kneel before y/n. Even through the dirt and blood, this female is beautiful beyond compare and she’s looking at me like I’ve hung the moon and stars just for her.

“Azriel,” she whispers as tears start to fall and tentatively reaches a hand out to touch my face. It causes her a great deal of pain and she winces before dropping it and settling on grabbing my hand instead.

“I’m sorry. I'm so sorry,” I find myself repeating over and over again as I brush back her hair and squeeze her hand so tightly it might break.

She smiles at me in a way that completes me but also destroys me. I let all of this happen to her and yet she’s still happy to see me. “It’s not your fault,” she tells me. “You couldn’t have stopped me and I didn’t want you to.”

I want to ask her how it all happened, how did the king manage to take her that morning at the war camp but I can’t find the words. None of it seems to matter now that she’s here and he’s gone.

“Is he..is he dead?” She asks in that small, broken voice.

I nod and the sobs finally break free from her. Against my better judgment as well as Madja’s, I help her to sit up and pull her into my arms, careful to not touch her wounds. I guide her into my chest with a hand in her hair and another around her waist, gripping her thigh as she clings to me and sobs. Relief washes over me both my own and through the bond. My cheek comes to rest on her head as she hides her face in between my collar and jaw.

I’ve come to realize that in all of my 500 years, I’ve never known comfort and safety like I do now. Quite frankly I don’t know much at all but none of that matters when my mate, my sweet girl, my y/n is in my arms.

#limits of a fae heart az x reader #az imagine #azriel spymaster #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel imagine #azriel acotar #az x reader #a court of thorns and roses

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