#and once Shadow knew what to look for he was like “pathetic. do it again”

[seldompathic]

Shadow thinks it's funny to mess with him. He uses his amusement as an excuse for his actions rather than acknowledging the fact that they're 100% flirting at this point

[cyripticchronicler]

Sooooo i need you to write more azriel becauseeeeee you are amazing at it and I adored healing

His Shadows

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: A disastrous date leads to an unexpected revelation: Azriel’s shadows aren’t just protective—they know the truth about the bond between you and him. Can you embrace the love you’ve always craved, or will fear hold you back?

TW: Kissing, one swear word

A/N: You ask and you shall receive! Ngl I love this fic so much!! Azriel longing has such a special place in my heart fr <3

Masterlist Azriel Masterlist

Azriel was sure he looked pathetic. He looked like a dog; wide, pouty eyes gazing at you longingly as he followed you around with desperate steps.

He was drawn to you like a moth to a flame. Your smile was the sun to his shadows, your laugh music to his silence. He loved how you talked to him - gentle and kind, like he weren’t a man carved from death and pain. 

Tonight was like no other. Stealing glances at you from across the dinner table, his heart was warm with adoration. You were absorbed in a conversation with Feyre, bright smile lighting up the room. Cassian was sitting next to him, chatting his ear away. He wasn’t paying attention, too enraptured by you and your colossal beauty. 

He wasn’t all that surprised when he felt the tug in his chest; a tug that led to you. Despite the suspicion that you were his mate - he’d never felt this comfortable around someone, so warm and fuzzy - he still felt the breath leave his lungs. His nervousness was unmistakable, breathing laboured and cheeks flushed. His heart was racing, his palms sweaty, and his shadows…his shadows were everywhere. 

They were swirling around his shoulders, darting towards you and wrapping around your hair as an invisible force attracted them. It was only when a shadow brushed against your cheek, so slow and caring, that he yanked his shadows back with a brutal force. 

“Az?” Cauldron, your voice was enough to bring him to his knees. Your head was tilted in concern and he knew if he looked around the table everyone would be wearing the same concerned look. 

“I-” His voice cracked, a rare slip in his usually perfect facade. “Sorry. I’m fine.” He wasn’t. And his shadows betrayed that as they reached out once again towards you as if wanting to confirm the bond was actually there. That it exists. 

He had to force them away from you once again, taking everything in him to stay in his seat when all he wanted to do was go down on his knees and beg for your love and acceptance of the bond.

 ๋࣭ ⭑

Azriel’s nervousness had amplified. It was embarrassing how his heart would stutter when you got too close. Or how his breathing would stop when you touched him in any way, even if it was a mere shoulder tap. 

His shadows, a lifelong companion, have betrayed him in ways unthinkable. They don’t listen. He can no longer trust them around you. Like now, you’re walking next to him, shoulders brushing against his own as you talk about your latest mission for the Night Court. 

Your conversation was momentarily interrupted as someone’s arm bumps harshly into yours. Azriel’s eyes narrow in a glare, instinctively wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you into him. 

“I'm okay, don’t worry.” He looks down at the hand that’s found its way to his arm, squeezing it comfortingly. “Good. She didn’t even apologise.” Azriel would like to blame the mating bond for his protectiveness, but, truthfully, he’d been this protective before the bond even snapped. 

You started walking, smiling once again. Azriel could still feel the anger boiling in his gut, his attentive eyes noting the shadows that swirled around your ankles, watching with a grimace as they continued to rise and slowly envelope you in darkness. 

Return to me. 

They rise quicker, your legs hidden. You’ve stopped in your tracks, eyes flitting up to look at Azriel curiously. 

Return to me. Now.

They wrap around your waist and you move away from the busy sidewalk. “Azriel? What’s going on?” He grits his teeth, your voice an echo in his head as he tries to regain his composure. 

Listen. Return.

They begin to wrap around your arms, almost your whole body shrouded in darkness. Your eyes, thankfully not panicked, scour the streets, looking for the danger that could explain why Azriel’s shadows were acting up. 

Enough. Go. 

His shadows hesitated around your frame, the icy chill of Azriel’s voice reminding them who their commander was. One by one, Azriel watched them slip away and into the darkness, banished into a space where they couldn’t interact with him or anyone else for the time being. 

“I-I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened.” His voice was raw, cheeks flushing and eyes moving everywhere but your own. Your smile is filled with adoration and understanding. Azriel was too blinded by his nervousness to see it. “It’s okay. Let’s go get lunch.”

 ๋࣭ ⭑

Azriel was going crazy. Sitting in the corner of the room, his hands clench and unclench as he watches you. The dim lighting in the living room does enough to hide Azriels shadows from everyone else. 

The moment you entered the room, his heart rate picked up and his shadows sharted flitting around the room erratically. Since then, he’s attempted to momentarily ignore you in a desperate hope to slow the beating of his heart and leash his shadows. 

“How…is your garden going? Did you plant those Dasies you got?” Azriel mutters distractedly, eyes still on you even as he talks to Elain. Her candy-like voice reaches his ears and he forces himself to look at her. 

“My garden’s going well! The daises really suit the rest of the garden. The white is a nice contrast with the buttercups-”

“Azriel, what the fuck?” Cassian’s confused voice cuts Elain off from her passionate rambling, his head snapping to look at him from where he sits next to you, hand raised above your shoulder like he was about to touch you. 

But he can’t. Azriel’s eyes move from Cassian's confused, worried ones and down his arm to watch the shadows swirl around his arm and hand. The shadows are physically preventing Cassian from placing his hand on your shoulder. They wrap around tighter and tighter until Cassian’s face twitches in pain. 

“You’re gonna have to explain this, Az,” Cassian teases, shaking out his arm. His voice was light, but his eyes flickered with genuine concern.

“Enough,” He muttered through clenched teeth, voice low in command. The trembling shadows obeyed, shooting away from Cassian's figure and back to Azriel, swirling around his ear as they whispered apologies in hopes of subduing the anger of their master. 

They don’t stay by him for long, Azriel’s nervousness growing as the eyes of his family lock onto him. His shadows reflect his anxiety, darting from corners of the room and swirling around bodies. As a shadow twirls around Rhysand’s neck once again, Azriel stands up abruptly. 

“I need to go,” Is all he mutters before leaving for the House of Wind with a brutal tug on his shadows, ensuring they follow his orders. 

What in the cauldron was wrong with him?

  ๋࣭ ⭑

“What’s wrong with you?” The question quite literally stuns Azriel in silence. He’d been locked up in his room for days now, trying meditating tactics to calm his shadows - even going to Madja to see if she could help in any way. She couldn’t. He hadn’t seen you in days, and, despite the desperate longing in his chest, he’d rather it be that he doesn’t see you instead of embarrassing himself. Again. 

You’d grown worried in his absence, constantly asking your family if they’d heard from him. Cassian had grown sick of your constant questions and offered to fly you up to the House of Wind himself. 

You had happily taken him up on the offer, leading to you now standing in Azriels room, hands on your hips as you inspect his tense stance and flushed cheeks. “What’s wrong?” You repeat again, eyes narrowed as his shadows leave his side, seemingly darker than usual.

You’re still not used to how vulnerable he looks when his shadows aren’t around him. He looks so lost, hands fidgeting in front of him while his wide, brown eyes watch as his shadows leave him. 

“Nothing’s wrong…My shadows are just acting up.” His eyes flit to the ground, folding his arms against his chest to stop his nervous fidgeting. “I’m sorry if I’ve been worrying you. I just needed to figure out what’s wrong with them.”

You smile apologetically, pulling him into a hug so you can feel his warm body against yours. Warmth coats your skin and you bite your lip to stop yourself from saying something stupid like ‘I love you.’ 

A shadow slinking up the wall catches your eye. “Um…” You mutter, still hugging him tightly. “I didn’t know your shadows could create shapes and stuff.” You feel him pull away, albeit hesitantly. He turns to look at where you’re pointing, a quiet curse slipping from his lips. 

There, against the wall, rests a lone shadow, the darkness taking the form of a clawed hand, desperately reaching out to your own shadow, formed by the dim fae lights. It’s almost sad how it fights to get closer, yanking at invisible chains, stretching its long fingers in an attempt to touch you. 

Azriel sucks in a sharp breath, placing a strict yet gentle hand on your back and slowly pushing you out of his room, all the while rambling. “I don’t know what’s happening.” Push. “You need to leave.” Push. “-what?-”  “I’ll talk to you later.” Push.  “-wait-” With one more push, you’re standing outside his room. 

You nod in defeat, your protests ignored.  “I’ll come and see you after my date tomorrow night.” He quite literally freezes in the doorway. “Date?” Before you can say anything, his shadows swarm around behind him, slinking behind gaps to reach you. The swarm around his wings, the darkest they’ve ever been. They seem to lash out, yanking at his hair. 

He slams the door before the shadows can reach you. A quiet curse and thump is heard from the other side. You can faintly see a shadow slithering between the gap in the door before it’s yanked back. 

Oh. Your heart is still racing at what just happened. He’s left you standing there in a pool of nervousness, anxious fingers attacking your nails as you debate whether or not you should knock on the door and ask if he’s okay. 

You decide against it. 

  ๋࣭ ⭑

The evening was interesting enough. The good-looking male was nothing short of kind. He had opened doors for you, pulled out your chair and bought you flowers. The warm glow of the candles at each table along with the gentle jazz music helped put your mind at ease, despite being on a date with a man you knew you could never truly love. 

You smile politely at the male's joke, sipping your wine, knowing deep in your heart that something is missing. Azriel had stolen your heart years ago, practically yanked it out of your chest and refused to return it. No matter how many males you talk to or sleep with, no one could replace him. 

“So you work for the High Lord and High Lady?” He asks curiously. You nod, playing with your food. “Yeah, I have a range of roles but I’m mostly a diplomat.” His smile was kind and attentive, nodding along as a sign for you to keep talking. “I-It’s a fun job. They’re like my family and I’d do anything for them.” 

“I have a feeling you’d do anything for a lot of people, wouldn’t you? You seem sweet.” His hand reaches out, fingers gently grazing yours before completely holding your hand, fingers lacing between yours. 

His hand feels weird. Too soft. You crave the rough scars that should be grazing against your palm. The tight way Azriel holds your hand (when he dares to; usually with the excuse that you’re in danger). 

“Thank you-”

The air shift is subtle but you notice it almost immediately. The temperature dropped, a chill slinking up your spine despite the warmth of the restaurant. You glance around, suddenly aware of how shadows deepen in the corners of the room. 

“Do you want my jacket?” Your date asks, brows furrowing as he notes the goosebumps trailing up your arm. “No. Thank you.” You smile, trying to return your attention back to the conversation at hand but it's captured by the flickering light in front of you. The flame of the candle danced erratically, as though it was caught in an invisible wind. 

Then you felt it. 

A wisp of darkness slipped between you and your date's hand. You gasp, yanking your hand back to your side with a speeding heart. The shadow didn’t stay away from you for long, slithering around your wrist tightly and anchoring itself to you. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, leaning closer and inspecting your face. You nod, laughing awkwardly. “Yeah, everything’s fine-”

Before you could finish your sentence, the shadows surge. 

First, they twist around your ankle, raising up and up until your legs feel trapped, so tightly surrounded by shadows it feels restricting. Then they move to your arms, twisting until you can barely move them, pressed to your side and unwilling to move. 

“I- I need to go. I’m sorry.” Panic ceases as you struggle to stand, your heart beating faster while the shadows grip tighter. You ignore the protests of your date, sending an apologetic smile while you walk out, the shadows loosening up enough for you to move your legs. 

Though they loosen around your legs, their grip on your arms grows tighter by the minute. It’s constricting, suffocating even. As you scavenge to find the leader of these shadows, your panic worsens. You. Can’t. Move. Your. Arms. 

You search the bustling streets for any sign of Azriel, figuring he’d be close since his shadows were. But, after ten minutes of looking, and fresh rain dripping down your clothes, you try to find another way. 

You lift your arm to your mouth, whispering desperately, “Get Azriel.” The shadow shoots away in seconds, rushing off into the distance while you find a bench to sit on, uncaring of the rain that pours freely. 

After a few minutes of waiting in the cool rain, the loud flap of wings is the first of Azriel to greet you. Next, it's the shout of your name as he rushes towards you. He abruptly stops in front of you, eyes blown wide as he takes in the sight of his shadows slithering over your body like a snake. 

“What-”

“Get them off. I can barely feel my arms.” Your glare is lethal, the numb feeling in your arms getting stronger. His eyebrows furrow in worry, eyes squeezing shut in an attempt to focus. “Stop.” 

Everything halts at once. The shadows stop moving, returning to their owner hesitantly. “I am-” He shakes his head, any ounce of frustration leaving his body as soon as his eyes meet yours. “I am so sorry. They’ve been so out of control recently. I was so absorbed in my own thoughts I didn’t even notice they were gone.”

“They interrupted-”

“Calduron, did they hurt you? I’m so sorry-"

“-Stop Azriel.” He halts, eyes looking down in shame. “This whole thing has been getting out of hand. I was on a date, Azriel. What’s going on? This has never happened before.” You place a hand on his cheek, forcing him to look into your eyes as he speaks. 

“I’m really sorry. I hope they didn’t hurt you. They’ve been acting up ever since the mating bond snapped and I don't know how to control it- They get so protective over you because I feel so protective. I’m trying to control it, I just think, because the bond just recently snapped they’re unsure of how to act around you-”

“The what now?” Your breathing stutters, your voice cracking in nervousness as you try to absorb everything he just said. Mating bond? He’s your mate? The one you’ve loved for so long is your mate?

“The-” He steps away, flinching when he processes what he’s said. Turning his back to you, he looks the part of a fallen angel, wings drooped, shoulders hunched while rain drips down his wings. “The mating bond,” he whispers in defeat. 

You take a slow, timid step towards him. “The mating bond?” Your heart skips a beat, breathing ragged as a strange feeling warms your chest. A phantom string tugs at your heart, connecting you to your one true love. “The mating bond.” You say more confidently, a tentative hand reaching out to touch Azriel’s shoulder.  

His back relaxes at your touch, head moving to look at you over his muscled shoulder. “I need you. So badly. I need you like the air I breathe. Please, if you’re going to turn me down do it quickly.”

You shake your head, shaking hand moving to his chin, turning him so he’s facing you. “Who says I don’t need you the way you need me? I’ve loved you for so long. I’m ecstatic to be your mate?” 

Rain drips from his hair and down his nose. You quickly wipe it away. His scarred hands move to your cheeks and he does the same for you, brushing the rain away from your face like he were protecting a precious painting. 

“You love me?” His eyes, so filled with love and hope have your heart melting. 

“Of course I do, honey.” 

“I love you too.” 

You smile, heart so full you feel like it could burst. “Then kiss me.” 

He does just that, warm, soft lips grazing against yours cautiously. He pulls away, eyes looking into yours. When he sees nothing but glee, he dips his head to kiss you again, this time more ferociously. All the longing and desperation he had been withholding leaked out in one kiss, the cold rain barely noticed in the warmth of the kiss. 

He pulls away, gasping for breath as his forehead falls against yours. Shadows return once again, trailing up your back, through your hair and wrapping around your arms causing you to gasp. “You're mine,” He mutters. 

“I’m yours.”

The shadows dance in joy. 

[cressidagrey]

It's a Love Story - Chapter 4

Summary:

Azriel's shadows find their master a wife.

Azriel would just really like his heart not to get broken again.

And Sky...well, she's just really surprised that that far too handsome male is interested in her at all.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), I classified this as Azriel x OC, even when it't technically Azriel x Sellyn Drake (but we kinda know nothing about Sellyn Drake other than that she writes books so Sky is kinda an OC), Cassian is kinda a good guy for once, Azriel has a horrible time, as usual... Stuttering, toxic families (For once I do not mean the IC), Self-Esteem Issues, Secret Identity, Body Image Issues, Fat Shaming, People being utterly horrible.

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

In that moment, Sky’s brain didn't function. 

She just sat there, staring at the gorgeous, gorgeous male across from her. She couldn’t think. Not when he looked like that. Not when he looked better than any figment her imagination had ever come up with…

He was…the most beautiful male Skylar Alden had ever seen. 

Everything about him was perfection. From his inky black hair, to his high, chiseled cheekbones, to his...his strong broad body that looked like it was just made to be pressed right up against hers. Gods...he looked like he was made from her deepest fantasies. He was...he was…

And then he gave her a slow, soft smile and her breath caught in her throat. 

Cauldron, he was  beautiful. Like every perfect fantasy she had ever had come to life. 

And he smelled even better than he looked, the scent of cedar and mist so mouthwateringly delicious she wanted to lick it straight off his damn skin. How a male could look this sinfully gorgeous and smell just as delicious, she didn't know. And he...he was smiling at her. Smiling at...her.

And she could feel the bond.

She could feel it.

Something…just clicked into place. Something in her chest shifted and it felt right and perfect and she just knew. 

Sky just knew that nobody else would ever come close to compare to him…

This was the male for her. He...he was hers.

Hers.

Her mate. 

Sky was a hopeless romantic. Maybe she needed to be that, so that she was able to write love stories for a living.

She loved love. She loved the whole fairytale, happily ever after fantasy. And looking at the male in front of her, it was like he came straight from the pages of her books.

But things like this didn’t happen to girls like her. She knew that. She knew that so well. She… he wasn’t going to want to…

Sky wasn't attractive enough, not interesting enough. Why would he choose her? Why would this gorgeous, gorgeous thing of beauty want to be with...someone like her?

It wouldn’t make sense. She wasn't...she wasn't anything special. He could do so much better than...than her.

She was so awkward, so plain. He was just...way out of her league.

“What’s wrong?” He asked her. Even his voice was perfect. One hand reached out for her, and she weakly registered the violent scars that covered it. They looked like they must have hurt. And then he seemingly thought better about it. “You…were happy.Now…”

That was the problem. She couldn't stop her stupid thoughts. They just kept on running through her brain, making her feel...feel self-conscious. Insecure. She was...she was just a mess. Always had been.

And she opened her mouth to respond but no word left her lips, her throat closing as she tried to say even a single sounds.

Tears shot in her eyes. Why? Just for one…just for one fucking time Sky didn’t want every word that left her mouth to be a fight.

But it was. And she tried to say a single thing but her body didn’t allow her, and her heart reatcheted up because she knew that she looked like an idiot but…She couldn't move. Couldn't...couldn't do anything but just sit there and cry like the pathetic, stupid mess she was. She didn't deserve him. He was...he was perfect. And Sky was just...useless.

He was just staring at her, looking...worried, probably so confused about why she was being like this. 

Stupid. So stupid. Like she always was. The tears kept falling, and she felt pathetic. So, so pathetic.

Her eyes closed as she fought back a sob, biting her lip so hard she tasted blood. It was...it was too humiliating, being like this in front of him. She probably looked like a total freak. She...she just wished he didn't have to see her like this.

He shouldn't have to see her like this, see her being an absolute mess because she didn't know how to act like a normal person. She could feel him move, and her breath hitched. He...he was probably about to leave. She...she didn't blame him, really. She was an embarrassment.

But then a warm, broad hand was on top of her own trembling fingers, covering her with his own. Her eyes flew open from the shock, her lips parting in surpris, his gorgeous eyes fixed on hers as he gently stroked the back of her hands with his thumb.

“Take a deep breath, love. It’s alright,” he soothed her softly. “It’s alright.”

She could feel her heart flutter as his voice washed over her, warm like a balm over a burn. It just made her want to cry even more, because he...he was being so nice. So gentle with her, even though he probably thought that she was being utterly ridiculous.

“I…I….I am so….so…sorry.” Her stutter was so bad. Clearly at its worst. Worse than it even was when she didn’t have enough sleep.

She felt tears sliding down her cheeks even harder, her vision getting blurry as she tried to avoid his eyes. Her stupid, stupid stutter always got worse when she was upset. Like her brain shut down and she just...lost the ability to form basic sentences.

She tried to calm down, tried to stop crying, but it just kept going. The tears didn't stop, and god, she must've looked completely pathetic.

"I'm s-sorry." she sobbed, her voice a wretched, strangled sound as she tried to stop the shaking that wracked her entire body. She just wanted...she just wanted to be calm. To be normal.

And he had probably even heard Claire. Had probably heard every barbed word her sister had thrown in her direction.

The thought made her want to wail as the tears fell harder, her breathing growing laboured and uneven. He would never want her now. Not after she had embarrassed herself like this. Not after she just...sat here and cried and stuttered like an idiot.

She tried to pull away from his grasp, but he didn't let her, gently taking her hands in his. His fingers felt so warm on hers, and his touch was so, so gentle. It just made the tears fall even harder, an ugly, broken sound wrenching from her throat.

Sky wanted to stop, she wanted to stop crying and being so hysterical, but her stupid, worthless brain wouldn't co-operate.

And then suddenly he enveloped her against a broad chest, strong arms settling sround her. He was hugging her

It was like every fiber of her being froze, her heart nearly stopping as she felt his arms encircle her. It was like...like some kind of dream. He was hugging her, hugging her like she was precious to him, like he...he truly cared about her. After all of Sky’s awkwardness, and stupid, pathetic crying...he still was holding her like this.

“Breath,” he told her softly. “It’s alright. Whatever is wrong, we’ll fix it.”

She took a deep, trembling breath, his scent washing over her. It was like he was everywhere, his arms tight and yet gentle around her, his broad chest pressed against hers, his cedar and mist scent in her nose. It just...it just made the tears fall all the more harder, a small, broken sob wringing itself from her throat.

Of course, his scent was just as amazing as he was. And it made her feel...feel safe. Like nothing could hurt her as long as he was there, like he would protect her from everything and anything. 

She buried her head in his chest, trying to block out the rest of the world as she held onto him so tightly she was sure she was probably hurting him. But still he didn't move, still he let her cling to him as she cried so hard it made her shake.

For once in her life Sky felt delicate in his grasp. She wasn’t thin at all, but against him…she felt small. She felt so safe pressed against him.Secure. Like she could let him hold her forever as she sobbed so hard she was practically convulsing. She knew he probably thought she was being pathetic, but still...but still, he was hugging her.

It was like she couldn't breathe. Her heart was hammering so hard against her ribcage that it hurt to even draw in oxygen, her emotions completely overwhelming her. 

She could feel his fingers running through her brown curls, and the touch just made her cry even harder. She must have looked so awful, so miserable, but he just...he just held her like this. Like she mattered to him, like she wasn't a total, pathetic mess.

And finally…finally Sky managed to calm down.

It took a long while, but eventually, the sobs eased into small, shallow breaths as she curled up against his strong chest. Sky still felt...awful. Like a total idiot. But at least the tears had stopped.

“I….i am sor…sorry.” She managed to bring out.

“There is nothing you need to apologise for,” he told her gently, one hand still delicately rubbing her spine.

“I…I cri…cried all o…over you.”Her voice sounded scratchy and broken from all the crying, and she was so deeply ashamed of it. He probably thought she sounded ridiculous. But she took another deep breath and pressed on, trying to speak through her tears, her stupid stutter still making it hard for her to even form a single word.

He held out a handkerchief for her and she whiled away the tears.

She blinked a few times, staring at the piece of fabric. He...he was giving her something to dry her tears, because she was such a pathetic mess that she had completely soaked the front of his shirt. Shame made heat rise in her cheeks, but she took the handkerchief from him.

She dabbed away at her wet lashes, her voice weak and raspy as she spoke. "T-thank you," she said quietly, still not being able to meet his eyes. She still felt so humiliated, but also so, so grateful that he was still here, that he hadn't left yet.

Sy knew she probably looked completely dreadful, all red-eyed and blotchy from all the crying, her hair mess and tangled from where he had run his fingers through it. 

She wanted to curl up and die from the shame of it all. Of being such a stupid, messy, emotional wreck. She must have looked like such an idiot, but somehow, somehow he was still here. 

"Will you tell me your name?" he asked her softly.

Sky felt her heartbeat quicken as he spoke, as his voice washed over her. Of course. Of course he didn't even know her name. She had been so caught up in her little pity party that she hadn't even introduced herself yet. A fresh wave of tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them away as best as she was able.

"S---Sky," she managed to bring out. She grimaced at her stutter.  "S...Sorry." She didn't dare to try and say anything else. Didn't dare to try an ask him for his name, because otherwise she was going to stutter even more.

"There is absolutely nothing you need to apologise for," he repeated fiercely. "I am Azriel."

His words made something in her heart quicken, her stomach fluttering in a way that it shouldn't. A small, shaky breath left her lips at the sound of his name, and she couldn't help but repeat it to herself quietly in her head. Azriel. His name suited him perfectly.

She looked up at him, finally looking at him properly, only to find that he was looking right back at her, those deep, hazel eyes fixed on her in a way that made her heart stutter in her chest. She probably looked awful, a total wreck, and yet he was still looking at her like that.

She opened her mouth to try and speak, but only a tiny, broken squeak left her lips. So she tried again, forcing the words out from between her lips. "Azriel." His name felt so good on her lips, even if her voice broke on the second syllable, but still, she had managed to say it.

He smiled that beautiful smile of his once more, and the sight of it made her want to cry all over again. How was it that this perfect male was still here, was still looking at her like...like she was something precious? Like she was anything other than a total wreck?! She just...she just wanted to die from the humiliation of it all.

"Tell me what's wrong." It wasn't as much a statement as much as it was an order. "You were happy. And then you just..."

She sniffled, trying to stop herself from crying even more than she already had. It was hard, her eyes blinking as tears continued to well up and fall. "It's..." She took in a raspy, stuttering breath, her lips trembling. "It's ju…ju…st...just me being...being stu…stupid."

"Somehow I find that hard to believe," Azriel responded, his voice flat. "Take a deep breath. And then tell me what's wrong so I can fix this."

She blinked a few times, looking at him. He was so...straightforward. Direct. So commanding, but also so gentle. Like he actually cared. She felt...she felt so, so unworthy of that. She didn't deserve his kindness, not after acting like a complete lunatic. Still, she obeyed, taking a deep, shaky breath before trying to speak.

"You...You de…de…deserve bet…better than…than me," she whispered. Her voice was quiet, little more than a whisper, and she felt her throat thicken as she spoke. It was true, and she...she couldn't believe he was being so gentle with her. Not with how ridiculous she was being.

He stared at. "What."

She looked down, focusing her eyes on her hands that were clutched in her lap. His own hand was still resting gently on the nape of her neck. "I...I am..." She took a deep breath, forcing herself to try to explain. "You...You…you are…you. And I…I am…me.” He was so handsome. And she wasn’t beautiful in the slightest. 

Sky blinked a few times, trying not to start crying even more than she had already done. It was just so...hard. So hard to admit how...how unworthy she was of him. He was amazing, and she was a total mess. 

A complete emotional disaster.

And he was going to realise that one day and leave or cheat on her with her sister and that was going to crush her heart and...

She tried so hard to blink away the tears that welled up in her eyes. She knew...she knew that this was just a temporary thing. That he was only being this kind to her out of pity. He would see how awful she truly was, and he would leave, just like everyone else did.

"Cauldron, Love, they really did a number on you," he breathed.

She sniffled, wiping the tears that fell from her cheeks. She knew that. She knew that she was unloveable. That there was something fundamentally wrong with her. And she hated it. 

"You…you'll cho…ch…choose s…s…somebody el…else and…and I get it b…but it's go…going to h…hurt and..." she croaked out.

"I am not going to choose somebody else," he cut her off. "You are my mate."

She blinked, her heart stuttering in her chest at his words. It felt...it felt like a dream. It didn't feel real. There was no way, just no way in Hell that someone like him was her mate. She was...there was absolutely no universe where she deserved him.

"That means that until you tell me to disappear off the face of this earth, you are stuck with me," he told her softly. "That means, that I will always choose you. I will always be on your side. I will protect you and I will shelter you."

She just stared at him as her heart hammered so hard against her ribcage that she wanted to pass out. Was he....was...was he being serious? Even as broken and awful as she was...how she had just completely fallen apart in front of him....he was still...he was still saying that she was...was his mate? That he would...that he would always choose her? Protect her...shelter her?

Her side...nobody had ever seemingly been on her side.

"I..." She was at a total loss for words. Him...him wanting to...to protect her? To shelter her? It was everything she had ever wanted. But she was so, so terrified that it was all...temporary. That the moment he saw her for all the broken, damaged things that she really was...that he would leave. Everyone always left.

He lifted his hand and she leaned against it as he cupped her cheek, wiping away even more tears. "You are my mate," Azriel repeated softly. "And if I had dared to approach while your sister was still there, I probably would have wrung your sister’s neck for what she said to you."

Sky felt a small, trembling smile begin to curl at her lips. He...he was her mate. She still couldn't believe it, but there it was. He was her mate, and he actually wanted her. Not only did he want her, but he was willing to...to defend her. To protect her. To stand up for her, even against her own sister. It was more than she could ever have asked for, more than she had ever hoped for herself. And the thought...the thought of that nearly made her cry all over again.

"It's…It’s bet…better to just…to just let Cla…Claire get it out of her sys…system and not inter…in…interrupt her," she said weakly. "She runs out of steam eventual…eventually."

"You shouldn't let her speak to you like that," Azriel said softly, his hand still resting gently against her cheek. "You shouldn't have to endure her venom."

She swallowed thickly, her throat tight. She knew that, she knew that she shouldn't let Claire speak to her in such a horrible way, that she should defend herself. But...but it had just never happened. She had always been too caught up in her own head, too afraid of...of doing something wrong. Of making everything worse instead of better. Because it always seemed to end up worse whenever she tried to stand up for herself.

But...but hearing him say it....hearing him tell her that she didn't have to put up with Claire's horrible words...it made something flutter in her chest. Something akin to hope. The thought that maybe....maybe she didn't need to listen to Claire's vicious words, that maybe...maybe she could stand up for herself after all.

"She's the fa…fa…favourite," she said weakly. "Always…s wa..was. The pret…prettier one."

She sniffled, her stomach twisting at the thought of it. Claire had always been the preferred one, the one that everyone adored. And Skye had always been...well, the other one. The one that nobody wanted to be around, the one that everyone was constantly criticizing.

"She's bone deep ugly," Azriel snapped right back. "There is nothing attractive about her at all." She could just stare at him.

She blinked at him, almost in shock at his words. No one ever said things like that about Claire. Everyone was always so busy praising her beauty and her grace and her charm, but never a single one of them would ever say a single negative thing about her. But here was Azriel, outright saying that Claire wasn't attractive at all. It was...it was hard to even wrap her head around.

"You say tha…that now," Sky said weakly.She swallowed thickly, her heart clenching at the very thought of him ever changing his mind. She knew....she knew that it was a very real possibility. He might think her worthy of him now, but as soon as he got to know her....how pathetic and broken and damaged she was. The thought of losing this....losing him...it made her stomach twist painfully.

She sniffled again, wiping tears away from her cheeks, her voice weak and broken. "You won…won't think tha..that..." she whispered. "When you...when you know me more. You'll think I'm path…pathetic, too. Just like Claire does. Just like every…everyone does."

The words felt like acid in her throat, like a knife twisting through her heart. She knew that it was true, that he would think her pathetic, too. He was only being so kind to her now because he didn't really know her yet. Once he got to know her....once he saw all the broken pieces that made her up....he would realize just how unworthy she was of him.

"I think that you spent your whole life being talked to like that, and that no fucking accolade you ever got was something you take seriously." Azriel's words were harsh, and they made her come up short. 

Sky had always thought that maybe...maybe the next time she achieved something her parents would be proud of her. That they would finally tell her that she had done well. But it had never happened. They were never proud of her accomplishments, no matter how good they were. She was never good enough for them, never anything enough for them. They always just...just told her that she needed to do better. That she had the capacity to do better. That it was her fault she hadn't.

And when she had published her first book...she hadn't wanted them to ruin that for her. So she had kept it a secret from them. Then the 2nd. And the 3rd. Book after book after book. People liked what she wrote. People bought her books. And still it felt like...it wasn't real.

No matter how many books she sold, it never felt like it counted. It never felt like she had actually achieved something. And no matter how much money she had in the bank, no matter how well she fed herself or kept a roof over her head, it just...it all felt like it was built on a fragile foundation. Like it could all come falling down around her at any moment, leaving her alone, cold, and broken. 

Just like how this mating bond could seemingly break just at a snap of his fingers.

That feeling only got worse when she thought about the bond between her and Azriel. It was so new, so fragile, and she knew that he could break it if he wanted to. He didn't have to keep it, didn't have to stay by her side. He could just...just walk away and leave her in the dust. The thought made her stomach clench painfully, her eyes stinging with more tears.

"I don't want your sister. I want you," he told her softly. "You are my mate, Sky. Turn me down if you don't want me, but don't do it because you think that I don't want you. Because I do. I have never wanted anything in my life more."

His words made her heart sing, the warmth of them filling her chest to bursting. She...she didn't think she had ever been wanted in her entire life. Her parents had always been so quick to shove her aside, to tell her that she was worthless and a failure. But Azriel....he actually wanted her. He actually saw something worth keeping in her. It was more than she had ever dreamed of, the thought so impossibly perfect that it made her feel like she was going to burst into tears all over again.

Sky just stared at him, unsure of what to say, how to respond to such an open expression of adoration from him. She had never been good at accepting compliments or affection, her automatic response was always to push it away. But here was Azriel, telling her that he wanted her, that she was his mate. And how could she even think about pushing that away? How could she even consider rejecting the best thing that had ever happened to her? It was an impossible thought, one that left her feeling awed and speechless.

So instead of saying anything, Sky simply reached for him, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him tightly, burying her face in his neck. She felt safe here, in his arms, like nothing could hurt her as long as he was holding her close. And in that moment, she felt more than anything that this, this was where she belonged. 

In his arms, with Azriel as her mate. It was everything she had ever wanted, and she was determined to hold onto it as tightly as she possibly could.

"I won't ev..ever turn you down," she whispered. "I was waiting for you for de…decades."

"Decades? Try half a millennia," Azriel responded.

Azriel's words made her heart stutter in her chest, her stomach twisting with butterflies. He...he had waited for her for so long?

All that time, he had been waiting patiently for his mate, and that mate had been her? It was more than she could even wrap her head around. She had always thought that no one would ever want her, that she was destined to be alone, and yet here he was, telling her that he had been waiting for her for centuries.

So Sky just clung to him, her eyes stinging with a fresh wave of tears. She couldn't believe it, couldn't believe that she was actually so important to someone. That she had actually been....been wanted by someone.She felt so unbelievably lucky, and all she wanted to do was hold on to this feeling for as long as possible. This feeling of being loved and wanted and...and worthy.

She sat back, even when she wanted nothing else but to keep being held by him, managing a weak smile. Sky couldn’t help but stare at him, couldn’t help but take in the black hair and dark hazel eyes that glinted green…and then her gaze snagged at the pair of massive, ferocious wings that sprouted from his back.

“You are Il…Illyrian?” she asked, surprise colouring her voice.

She didn't know why she was so surprised. Maybe because because there weren’t a lot of illyrians that lived in Velaris…maybe because he really didn’t seem to match the picture that most books she had read about them and their culture painted about them. 

His wings were… magnificent. Azriel’s wings were so massive, so huge and powerful, and they seemed to span an impossible distance even when  he had them folded carefulyl against his back. 

“What gave it away?” He quipped, though the ere was a grimace on his face. “I am not…whatever you may have heard…”

She flinched slightly, feeling a small pang of guilt at her reaction to his wings. She knew that Illyrians had a reputation for being brutal and ruthless, but she hadn't meant to make Azriel feel uncomfortable or ashamed of his heritage. 

"I am sor…sorry," she said sheepishly. “I was…just su…surprised. There aren’t a lot of Il…Illyrians around Velaris. I've never seen wings like yours before, j…just read about them. They're beautiful."

She looked up at him, hoping that he could see the sincerity in her gaze. She didn't want him to feel like she was judging him based on his species, or that she was scared of him just because he was Illyrian or a lesser Fae. 

“I…I got some River Nymph blood some…somewhere down the line,” she told him.”It’s the family s…scandal.”

He chuckled at that, even as he mustered her.“Your eyes,” he realised aloud, and she nodded

She blushed slightly, her heart leaping at the thought of him noticing such a small detail about her. To know that he had taken the time to observe her eyes, to notice the faint turquoise hue that came from the bit of River Nymph blood flowing through her veins, regardless of how diluted it was…It made her feel like he truly saw her, not just the broken, damaged parts of her, but everything that made her who she was.

“Gre…Great grandma from my dads s..side,” she explained. “I was the only one who got the eyes…and the bendy bones.” She had always been seen as the odd one in her family. The outcast. Growing up, it had been hard to know where she fit in. Her parents had always been so focused on her brother and her sister, on their achievements and successes, and she had always felt like she was just...there. Just existing in the background, never quite good enough to be noticed or noticed for all the wrong reasons.

“Tell me more,” Azriel requested softly, reaching out to hold her hand again.

“More of what?” she wondered, blushing slightly. 

“More about you. I want to know everything.”

Her heart skipped a beat at his request. He...he wanted to know more about her? He actually wanted to listen to her, to hear what she had to say? The thought was almost enough to make her cry all over again. No one had ever asked her about herself before, no one had ever expressed an interest in her life or her thoughts. She had always been the one listening to others, never the one being listened to…especially not with her stutter. 

”I am not that interes…interesting,” Sky said weakly.She had always been self-conscious about what she liked and didn't like, always been afraid that others would judge her for her preferences. Even the thought of telling Azriel what she enjoyed doing for fun made her feel nervous and unsure. She didn't want him to think she was boring or uninteresting, and yet...and yet she also wanted to be honest with him. She wanted him to know who she really was, even if that meant showing all her quirks and flaws.

“I write boo…books for a..for a living,” Sky told him “R…Romance novels. And I have a cat named Hector that’s …that’s ador…adorable.”

Azriel grinned at her. “I can’t wait to meet him.” She blushed at that thought. 

She had always been nervous about talking to people, about opening up and letting them know who she was, but with Azriel...it felt different. It felt right.

“What…What do you do?” Sky wondered quietly.

“I work for the High Lord,” Azriel answered. “I…gather intelligence, I guess you could say.”

"Intelligence?" she asked curiously. She had never heard of anyone who did something like that before. It sounded like a dangerous job, one that required a lot of skill and training. Azriel nodded, his expression serious. 

"Yes. I gather information about...about threats to our court. About the dangers that lurk in the world around us."

She shivered slightly at the thought of some of the dangers that Azriel had to face on a regular basis. On the things that he was confronted with every single way…He was doing what was necessary to protect their people from harm. SHe knew that it must took a lot of courage and determination to do a job like that, and she couldn’t help but feel a wave of respect for him.

Sky took a deep breath, "Is it....is it danger…dangerous? Gathering all that…all that information?" She asked nervously. "I…I mean, do…do you ev…ever...get hurt?"

Azriel's expression darkened, and he hesitated for a moment before answering. "Sometimes," he admitted. "There are always risks involved in what I do. I have been injured before, but I have also been very lucky. I have survived so far."

She shivered at the thought of him being hurt, of him being in danger. Sky couldn't bear the thought of him being harmed, of him being in pain. She wanted to protect him, to keep him safe from all the horrors of the world. It was a feeling she had never experienced before, this overwhelming need to protect someone else. But with Azriel, she felt it with every fiber of her being. She would do anything to keep him safe, to make sure he never got hurt again.

Sky took his hand in hers, gripping it tightly. "Please…Please be careful," she whispered, her eyes full of fear and worry. "I…I don't want an…anything to happen to you." I don't want to lose you. The words were unspoken, but she knew that he could hear them in her voice, in the way her fingers trembled against his.

“I am careful,” he promised her seriously. “Besides, I am not exactly on my own,” he told her seriously.

She raised an eyebrow, curiosity getting the better of her. "You…You're not on…on your own?" she asked, surprised. "Who…Who do you work with then?"

A moment later…she got her answer in the form of wreathing shadows, that welled up behind him.

For a moment Sky could just blink. 

Then: “You are a shadowsinger?!” She breathed in wonder. 

She had read about it, of course…when she had a whole phase of thinking how cool it would be if she had some kind of special powers. Sadly, there never had any manifested. No shadows for her…or mind reading either. 

Azriel chuckled softly at her reaction. "Yes," he said simply. "It's a useful skill in my line of work."

She stared at him in awe. She had read stories of the fabled shadowsingers, of their ability to control shadows and use them to do their bidding. But she had never actually met one before. They were…stupidly rare.” But clearly Azriel was one. 

“Do…Do they…talk to you?” She asked him curiously.

Azriel nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. "Yes, they do," he said. "They have their own personality and quirks, and I can communicate with them in a way that no one else can. It's a unique connection, one that I…I have grown to cherish."

They were important to him.

So Sky did the only polite thing. “It’s…nice to meet you.” She greeted them, holding out a hand. 

Azriel's shadows seemed to pause for a moment, as if taken aback by her greeting. Then they swirled around her, brushing against her skin in a gesture of introduction. 

She couldn't help but smile at the sensation of the shadows brushing against her skin, their touch neither hot nor cold. They seemed almost sentient, like they had a mind of their own. It was both strange and fascinating at the same time. "Do you have…a name?" she asked curiously.

Azriel chuckled. "No, they don’t have a name. It's just...the shadows."

She nodded in understanding. They did seem…weirdly alive. And they were so responsive to Azriel's commands, so attuned to his needs and desires, that it was hard not to think of them as a separate entity in their own right.

But still…as she wiggled her fingers and the shadows wove between them, she couldn’t help but wonder…

"What...what d…do you wan..want from me?" Sky asked him softly. What did he want? What did he expect? 

Azriel's expression softened, and he reached out to cup her cheek gently in his hand. "I want...I want whatever you are willing to give me," he said quietly. "I want to be there for you, to support you and protect you. I want to make you happy, to make you feel loved and cherished. And I want...I want to be your mate, if you'll have me."

Sky bit her lip, leaning into his touch. "I…I want that t…too," she admitted quietly. "And I really want a family one day. I want kids," she told him. 

"I want that too," he said softly, his voice full of warmth and love. "I want everything with you, Sky. All of it."

She couldn't help but smile at that admission. Hearing him say that He wanted the same thing, hearing him say that He wanted to build a future with her...it was like a dream come true. And then Skylar Alden who had always overthought everything in her life, made this one decision: "Then take me home."

[valentine-cafe]

˖⁺. "yes sir." : 

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you had the nerve to speak up during a meeting with your admiral and boss. typically he would have appreciated the guts - if what you had said wasn't 1. the most dumbest thing he's heard and 2. you didn't have audacity to challenge him. 

﹙ cws ﹚: authority kink ˖ office sex ˖ lots of degradation ˖ use of vibration ˖ spitting ˖ severe edging ˖ implied oral | wc : 1.2k 

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The low buzz of the vibrator around your dick has your head looping already. Eyes wide while desperate gasps and pants proceed past your lips.

“Well,” Rishen sighs, leaned back against the table, with his cheek resting against whitened knuckles, that clench together each time he watches your dick twitch from the vibrator. All before a button is pressed and it slows down once again, leaving you high and dry. Crying out in frustration.

“By now, you should have learnt your lesson. But you still want to be a fucking patético, tonto idiota.” ( pathetic, dumb idiot ). With a small eye roll and an adjustment in stature, he moves over to you.

His gaze is full of faux pity and clear disappointment. The pleasure it is to be able to make the Admiral of Aegis so angry. Who knew you had such capabilities huh?

Smartmouth words had always brought trouble, it was no different this time. If only he’d touch you, or make you touch him in any way. And yet, all you could do was buck your hips helplessly to find friction in the painfully slow vibrator, and puck your lips at him.

As if that would do much.

“Poor thing,” he tuts. Leaning over your kneeling form on his pristine, black office flooring. Soon to be stained white - if he’d let you.

His tall figure casts a shadow over you. A reminder of who is above you right now. Who is always above you; in every way. His face swarms your vision, yet never leans down enough for you to reach up and kiss those deep red lips as you wish. Instead you can only run your tongue over yours. Dream of the sweetness of his tongue.

A violent buzz rips you out of your little daydream. Your head tosses back and your dick throbs around the tip. The whimper that you let out is most desperate, most depraved, as your hips chase the pleasure by bucking up rapidly. A rise from below. In your tummy - a knot —

And then nothing.

Nothing but a low chuckle. As the vibrations slowly wear off and an elegant, strong hand threads over your head. Before curling into whatever it can and yanking your head back. So that your spine arches and your teary eyes are set on him.

“To think. A mere rookie - challenging me in my meeting.” The click of his tongue emulates the look in his eyes. Indeed, you had actually managed to anger the Admiral.

“Questioning my decisions. You barely have a year behind your name.”

The front of his red high heel presses up against your clothed, vibrating crotch. He remains ever as rigid. Even when his thumb pokes past your lips and pushes at your mouth.

“Open.”

And you readily comply. Like you should have done during earlier’s mission. Instead you simply had to give your two-cents-worth. Now here you are. Bound, throbbing and humiliated by your superior. Who takes his well-deserved apology by keeping you on edge.

Your open mouth receives a well-aimed spit. The whining noise from the back of your throat only earns his shoe to grind up further into your crotch. All while he forces your gaze upon him.

Sharp, narrowed eyes and deep maroon irises that glare down at your pathetic form. Jaw tight, brows narrowed. Backlit by his large office window that faces the night city. Even in this state of control. . . he is beautiful. Terrifying, but beautiful.

“Now. Who are you?”

“J-Just a rook - ah,”

The sudden surge in vibrations makes your mouth fall open. The just as quick drop in-turn has you crying out in desperation as you needily buck into his shoe. Tears pricking at your eyes from frustration and need.

“Just - just your pathetic r-rookie. . . Sir.” Your sob seems to sate his irritation. His thumb strokes along your cheekbone.

“There we go. Good boy.”

Groans bounce on and off the walls of the office. He hadn’t put the silencers off, to humiliate you more in that case. You knew nothing of that, yet. It would ruin the fun.

His shoe grinds down against your crotch a little harder than before and when a choked moan rips through your lungs, his index and middle fingers glide into your mouth for you to suck on them.

It took everything in him to deny his own desire to fuck you straight into the floor. Force your legs open and give you what he wanted. But, he is a master at his own stubbornness. You best crumble before the action passes the thought.

“Look at you, messy.” The condescending chuckle shoots straight down to your throbbing cock, while you gag on his fingers. Trying your hardest and everything to stay composed and hold yourself together for just a bit longer.

Everything within is like a mush of arousal, desperation, frustration. Mixes and hues of your own irritation, something that burns in the same kind of passion as what lies beneath your superior’s heart.

You never get what you want unless you act good, but you get this when you act bad. Time with him is time with him, isn’t it?

The anger you feel when he dominates you is so very oddly addicting. Frustration handled by rough touch and manhandling, there is no hesitance nor pity. You see the sadistic glimmer in his eyes.

It’s arousing—

Another pang of pleasure rushes through you. And suddenly, the knot begins to form within your stomach once more. The need to let it recoil and let yourself go.

“What’s my name.” The Admiral sneers above you, pulling the pair of digits out of your mouth, departing it with a string of saliva clinging onto them.

“M-Mr. H-nhgh Mister Herrera.” You moan out. Shivering as you watch satisfaction cover his features. While his foot presses against your sensitive cock once more and the vibrator speeds up further. Your poor dick leaking and spurting with cum in your pants.

“Louder.”

“M-Mister H-Herera! Mister Herrera!”

Your sob bleeds through the room. You can feel it. Your release right on the edge. Tummy twisting and knotting. Knees trembling as you throw your head back and roll your hips forward.

Alas, everything is ripped away when the vibrations stop altogether. Mind buzzing like the toy previously was as your tip leaks. Crying for stimulation. To be pushed right there.

Your teary eyes meet his glare and you choke a sob. Shoulders shaking as you messily attempt to grind into the floor. A slew of ‘no’s’ and ‘pleases’ leaving your drooling lips.

His hand slips to the back of your collar and gives it a harsh yank. Timing it with his graceful perch upon his chair. Your face is shoved to his pants-covered crotch. Your lips so perfectly opening right over his bulge as you pant and cry.

The groan that leaves him has your nerves on fire. His fingers stroke along your head before gripping at the back of your neck. Those deep eyes seem scarlet this time as they peer down at you with a certain menacing stature. The shadows of his office only make the imagery of his face so much more domineering.

“Go on, pretty boy.” Rishen grunts. A finger lightly tapping on your lower lip.

“Do what you’re worth. Suck.”

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[thinkinonsense]

Having a fascination with Logan's hands. Particularly on you, or in you, being the subject of many fantasies. But, you're super shy about it, until Logan mentions that he can smell you, during one of your daydreams while you're staring at his hands.

—daydreams l.h.

at first, logan thought he was making things up. his mind playing tricks on him yet again. during meetings and missions, late at night alone, he heard this angelic little voice in his head. like a devil on his shoulder, you shared in detail how much you craved his touch. his hands were so big and strong, rough and veiny with thick fingers. you wanted them everywhere on you; from the tip of your tongue to the inside of your velvet walls.

logan thought he was going crazy until one day, the two of you are sitting across from each other during a meeting. unbeknownst to you, your powers were sending your personal thoughts about logan's hands and what you wish he would do with them into his head. you knew this was apart of your mutation but you've trained to control how you share your powers.

once the meeting was over and everyone filled out, logan followed you upstairs to your room, following the sweet scent of your arousal leaking out of those cute white panties.

"hey, logan." you smile at him once you noticed the shadow behind you. "do you need something?"

he watches your gaze fall down to his hands again. you weren't sure what kickstarted this fire in your tummy when you saw his hands flex and his veins pop out. maybe it was the danger they held. his claws always made you wet. watching them come out during missions always made your brain a little fuzzy. similarly to how your brain felt right now.

—wonder how they would fit inside of me? they're much larger than my fingers. bet he'd know exactly what to do with them. maybe he would put 'em in my mouth for a bit.

"hey, dollface." logan smirks, lifting up your chin to look him in the eye. "i think you're the one in need."

"w-what?" you blush, trying to look anywhere but logan's pretty face. "i don't need any..."

the words disappear into thin air as logan uses his thumb to play with your bottom lip. he can hear your heartbeat pick up as you try to keep yourself contained. your thoughts now filled with fear that logan's figured out your dirty little secret.

"hm, i think you do..." he taunts, getting even closer.

"logan, someone could walk by." you babble against his thumb with big dark doe eyes.

"that shouldn't bother you. probably already projected your thoughts to them too."

you couldn't have been more mortified. how could this happen? what did logan know? he watched with a smile as panic rushed over you, taking the opportunity to open your door and shove the two of you inside.

"wanna explain your daydreams to me, dollface?" he asks, towering over you intimidatingly.

"i'm s-sorry, logan." you pout pathetically. "didn't mean for you to hear me."

"aw, but i think you did."

logan's big frame covers yours entirely. his index and middle finger tap your lower lip until you let him in. the sound of spit and struggle fills the room as you suck on his thick fingers.

"that's it, sugar." he praises. "get 'em nice and wet for me."

the tips of his fingers hit the back of your throat in a way that makes your tummy warm. a groan falls from logan's lips when he looks down and sees you drip his wrist to keep him in the back of your throat until he pulls away. a thick string of saliva connects his fingers to your puffy lips.

the two of you walk towards the bed, where you straddle his waist, messily making out full of desire and neediness. teeth clashing as logan rips your underwear off from under your skirt. you gasp against his lips, making him smirk.

"she's just leakin' for me, babydoll." logan groans finally feeling you the way you've been craving. his fingers slide through your slick causing little moans to leave your lips.

"please, don't tease me lo.." you whine, feeling him circle your entrance, barely pushing in. greedily you clench down on the tips of his fingers.

"shh.." he coos. "she's tryin' to talk to me."

gently, he pushes his fingers into you. a loud squelch fills the room, like music to logan's ears. your nails dig into his shoulders as his fingers hit that gummy spot inside of you. a small cry falls from your lips as logan starts to bounce you softly with his other hand on your waist.

"c'mon, sweetheart..." he teases. "ride my hand like you showed me in your daydreams."

that was more than enough motivation for you to grind down on him until you've set a steady rhythm. logan leaves a trail of hickeys on your neck and down your chest, along your breasts.

"s-shit!" you moan, throwing your head back in euphoria. " 'm close."

in the blink of an eye, logan rolls the two of you over with ease. once your back made contact with the mattress, he starts drilling his fingers into you with passion, needing to get you to your high. logan keeps you legs as far apart as possible and a hand firmly on your hips, holding you down as you cry in pleasure.

"lo!" you gasp, feeling a knot form in your tummy. "p-please."

"atta girl." he smirks, placing a soft kiss to your hip bone and his thumb on your button, circling quickly.

unbeknownst to you, logan was grinding into the mattress for some sort of release. too caught up in the image of you soaking his hand. your nails claw at his wrist as the tightness inside of you finally snapped.

"that's it, good girl." logan marveled, watching your face scrunch up.

once you've come back down from your high, you don't hesitate to reach for logan's slick drenched hand and putting his fingers into your mouth. swirling around the digits in a way that made logan grow impossibly harder.

"f-fuck, you can't do shit like that to me, dollface." he groans, watching you release them with a small pop.

"love these hands." you babble, still slightly fucked out.

"if you love these hands, you'll love what else i have in store for you."

[kairakeiji]

note: situationship/fwb!

how do you hate something you once loved?

atsumu used to think this all the time. the way you fooled everyone with stolen moments, silly photos, and lies that made the world believe you were his. he doesn’t deny the way he relished in your touch, in the faux comfort your words gave him, even if you both had no label. you would never truly be his. atsumu made sure of that after his mistake, the mistake that felt like it had taken away the only thing that truly made him sane.

why am i here?

he stands outside your door, uncertain of how he got here. honestly, atsumu swears he blacked out. but somehow, his trip back to his place turned into a supposed wrong left turn onto a road that led straight to your apartment, the place that some part of his brain still believes is home.

he won’t ever forget your last argument. you both never had a label, never defined the relationship, yet there you both were screaming as if you did. he spent one night with someone else, one drunken night that he finds himself regretting more often than not. it was never off the table, it was never fully discussed, despite how much he told you he regretted it, despite how much he told you it was a mistake. yet the way you cried and screamed and hit him in every place you knew he was vulnerable led to the state you were both in now. angered, isolated, with an unknown amount of tension and rage murmuring between you both.

separate, without ever getting the chance to be together.

how do you hate something you once loved?

atsumu stands outside your door, partly paralyzed and dazed out. what if you’re not even home? what if you’re out seeing other people and moving on and forgetting him? a part of him feels pathetic, still wishing for something that never truly belonged to him. a part of him misses you, a part of him still wishes you were still a text or a phone call away, that you could still be in his arms, and that he can live in the false narrative of being yours.

can you even stop loving someone?

he knocks without thinking.

a beat goes by, then another, and then one more. the silence leads to his thoughts running a million miles a minute. one question, one hypothetical, one worry following the next. the guilt hits him again and the silence seems to mock him. he steps back from your door, figure slumping slightly.

atsumu swears he hears the doorknob turn.

the door opens hesitantly, his heart beginning to pound.

and then he sees you.

how do you stop time?

“hey,” his voice doesn’t come out the way he had hoped it would. it’s a bit too high and a little too quiet.

“what are you doing here?” your voice doesn’t come out the way he knows it does. it’s shaky and timid, rather than the typical upbeat tone you carried. your eyes looked swollen, the hoodie you wore covering most of your figure and hair.

his heart sinks, “i wish i could tell you.”

“can you leave then?” his heart drops at the way your voice quivers. “i kind of don’t want to see you right now, i’m sorry.”

“can i ask you something first?” atsumu tries. “one question and then i’ll leave you alone i swear. you never have to hear from me again after that.”

you shake your head, “you know i don’t want that, tsumu.”

tsumu…he loves it when you call him that.

how do you want something so desperately? how do you want something more than anything else in the world and not know how to fully say it?

atsumu steps closer to the door, “so you’ll hear me out?”

the door opens more as you step out of the shadows of your apartment.

“was it real to you?” atsumu questions.

you scoff, “of all things you have to ask me.”

“just answer,” he meets your gaze, and his heart sinks at how sullen your eyes are. “please.”

“of course it was,” you tell him. “i know we weren’t together, well, relationship-wise at least. but i meant everything i said and everything i did.” you shake your head, blinking rapidly. “that’s why what you did hurt so much.”

“i know and-”

“please let me finish,” your voice is gentle, laced with the reassurance he grew to depend on, the same tone you used every time he lost a game or failed a test. “i don’t know what we are…or were. i just knew everything was real,” you meet his eyes. “everything was so real.”

memories play in atsumu’s head. the time he made you ditch your class just to take you to get matcha from the new place that opened down the block. the long afternoons you kept him trapped in a library to actually study. the days he spent in your company, the nights he spent holding you in his arms, exploring parts of you that he knew no one had yet before. the mornings that followed as he used ice cubes to soothe the marks he left on you, the little giggles you left as you found yourself counting each one in the mirror, watching in your reflection as he kissed each one.

“did it feel real to you?”

your question snapped atsumu out of his thoughts.

“of course it did,” he answers almost instantly. “nothing in my life has never felt more real.”

“for so long i never thought you truly cared like that,” you sigh.

“what do you mean?” he questions.

“it felt like i was just another fling of yours,” you explain. “that you’d toss me to the side once you got bored of me. and some stupid part of me thought that maybe that wasn’t the case. that for some reason i managed to strike you differently than any other person you had gone out with.” your gaze moves to the ground. “i guess i was wrong.”

“i wasn’t thinking,” he mutters. “you were right. no one’s ever made me feel as much joy as you. and i’m so sorry things turned out like this.” he runs a hand through his hair. “one dumb mistake, and i feel like i’m losing the one person i feel like i truly love.”

is it possible to find love for something you hate?

he meets your eyes, and he swears he sees them soften. “you love me?”

“i do,” he tells you. “i do love you, and i’m sorry i didn’t say so sooner. i’m so sorry that i never asked you to be mine. i should’ve asked you so so long ago instead of leaving you here like this.” atsumu stretches out his hands. you look down at his hands before looking to him, and he feels like he’s almost begging you to take them.

relief washes over him when you do.

“if you want to forget about me and move on with your life, you are more than welcome to do so,” he tells you. “i mean i deserve it, what i did was so wrong.”

“it was,” you mumble under your breath.

and atsumu doesn’t even have the strength to fight you. he just wants nothing more than to fight for you.

“but, if you can forgive me,” he starts, “then i would love nothing more than for you to be mine. i promise to spend the rest of my days making up for this. whether it’s in matchas or nights together, or study sessions against my will, or convenience store runs, or osamu’s food.” the last portion makes you laugh, and atsumu would give anything to hear it again. “please, if you can find it in you to do so, please give me a chance to treat you right and be mine.”

he lets out a breath, heart thrumming in his chest before meeting your gaze. “what do you say?”

and he feels his heart sigh as you nod.

“okay.”

i am a true situationship survivor who, for some reason, loves writing about them...lowkey telling...

anyway thank you for reading!! <3

[lily-sofii]

Little dove

Shadow milk poll

TW(?): Yandere/obsessive behavior, mentions of kidnapping (you’re a captive in his castle),  non-con smut, PURE VANILLA COOKIE HAS EYEBROWS, his castle is referred to as “hell” and the surrounding forest is “inferno”, fem reader, reader hates Vanilla more than anything, blood licking, non-con is a form of punishment, depictions of vomiting, this is just a disgusting fanfic

!READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED!

Oh, how low Pure Vanilla has fallen. Such a different path from the path of truth he has chosen and held dear to him so long ago. But in his deranged mind he was doing the right thing… the right thing for him at least. For you? Not so much.

It was worse than hell for you. The pure cookie you had once met was no more. His eyes that once showed love for you, were now clouded with obsession and madness.

When they say ‘The eyes are the windows to the soul’ you thought it was a dumb saying made for overly emotional people to cry over, but it was starting to feel more and more like your situation.

Those void eyes felt as empty as his castle. How do you know that? Well, because you’re stuck here now… you have been stuck here for the past three months. Although in Pure Vanilla’s words you’re simply “In your new home!”.

The castle you are locked up in feels like anything but home. Lifeless and devoid of any cookie life, dust scattered around as if no one but you two lived here. But in the end, it might as well be true. Have you ever seen anyone in the castle except you and Pure Vanilla? Sure, you are aware that there are servants in here, but you have never seen them in the tower you are locked up in. Maybe that was Pure Vanilla’s doing… What if he purposefully made sure no one except him comes to the space you’re confined to? In his lovesick mind it probably made sense to him.

But no… You needed someone, anyone. No… What you needed is to get out. To ESCAPE.

But that has proven to be difficult time and time again, given the fact you have tried to escape more times than your broken mind can account for.

You truly felt like a caged bird, stuck singing a song of despair no one could hear. But every bird spreads its wings one day, right? Maybe today would be the day for you. Maybe today, your escape plan would work.

You see, everytime you attempted to escape Pure Vanilla’s grasp, you made the crucial mistake of being unaware where he was during your escape, but now, you made sure that wouldn’t be the case.

When he began to smother you more these past few days, his sweetness almost suffocating, you knew something was up. You knew direct confrontation was not a thing your captor liked, so you had to be sneaky enough that he wouldn’t notice… but just in case, it would be better to soften him up a bit.

“My light?”

Great, he loves that nickname!

“Is something the matter? You have been a bit more… attentive these past few days”

Pure Vanilla furrows his blonde brows, an annoyed scowl forming on his face before returning to its usual calm and soft-looking expression.

“My dear… I, with the utmost distress, have to inform you that I will need to leave the Vanilla kingdom for the next few days.”

Wait what..? That’s… GREAT!

That’s what you thought at least. Because as far as you knew, Pure Vanilla is gonna be away for god knows how long, leaving you with the perfect chance to escape.

Is that how you got yourself into this situation? Running through the thick forest that surrounds the castle you were bound to, feeling as if Pure Vanilla’s heterochromic eyes were observing your every move. Each breath you took as you ran, every step being followed by an enlarged feeling of dread.

The feeling of Pure Vanilla’s eyes on you.

But how could that be possible? He told you he was leaving. Maybe he sent one of the cookies that work in his castle to come after yo-

“My dove, are we still playing these… games? These pathetic attempts at getting my attention?”

His attention?! That was the last thing you sought after. 

Wait… was that truly his voice? Are you imagining it? No… there is no way, it was most definitely real. It was him. Your captor. But… wasn’t he meant to be away?

“Alright then, how about I give you… two more minutes to return to the castle before forcing you there myself? You know it’s too dangerous for you to be out here, my dove. I’ve told you an abundance of times, haven’t I?”

Two minutes… is that enough to find your way out of the green and dark inferno you’re in at the moment? A small part of you is saying ‘Yes’ and the bigger, more rational part? ‘NO! Pure Vanilla is right around the corner’. And who did you pick to trust?

You quickly turn on your heel, running the opposite direction. Both in a pathetic attempt to escape, and in a need to get away from his voice. The voice that has been haunting you during your captivity in the Vanilla castle.

His voice cuts through the quiet forest that is filled with the sounds of your feet thumping on the wet, moss-covered ground.

“Ah, my lovely dove… have you truly decided on playing a game today? Well, you only have 20 seconds left.”

That is just fine. Twenty seconds will be enough to get out of this inferno. And you’re right! That’s sunlight breaking through the tree line, isn’t it?! Just a few more steps and you’ll be-

“Bzzt! Your time is up.”

No, NO! Please, just five more seconds!

You gasp when you feel something slip between your ankles, causing you to tumble to the ground. You wince when you feel a dull pain in your face upon impact with the ground, smelling your blood.

Glancing down, your eyes meet with the eye of Pure Vanilla’s staff, feeling like it’s looking into your soul. Your very existence.

“My, my… You got quite far, my dove. I must invest into having more trees planted around the castle. We wouldn’t want your little games to end in your departure, would we now?”

Pure Vanilla and his stupid lovesick brain! Can’t he see this is wrong?! You want him to choke and die! To leave you alone, to escape!

You can practically hear the grin on his beautiful face as he speaks. How can someone as beautiful as him be so twisted? Or… how can someone as beautiful and pure turn into such a lovesick monster?

He comes out from behind a tree, a shit-eating smirk on his face. His beautiful face. Pure Vanilla crouches down beside you and grabs his staff, tossing it aside before his fingers reach to hold onto your jaw, forcing you to look up at him. He tuts as his eyes are met with yours, before lowering to look at the blood flowing from your nose.

He cups your jaw with both of his hands, his face inching towards yours. Sighing softly his tongue lulls out of his mouth, moving to lap up the blood that your injury is spilling.

You gag at Pure Vanilla’s actions, feeling like you’re about to vomit. He hums and squeezes your jaw in an attempt to force you to stay in one place and not move your head away from him.

“This is precisely what occurs when you play games… Come, I believe it is for the best that we return to the Vanilla castle.”

You hate him. The blood beneath your skin feels like lava with all the contained rage you are holding in your system at the moment. Why didn’t your plan work?! He was supposed to be away!

Pure Vanilla lets out an exhale of defeat, moving to stand up as he grabs his staff he tossed away just a bit ago.

“Are you really gonna be a burden and not stand up, my Dove? Fine, have it your way.”

That nickname he gave you… it felt different this time he said it. As if he wanted the word to burn. As if he wanted the word to come out in such a toxic manner. Come to think of it, isn’t the nickname ironic? ‘Dove’... as if he were trying to rub salt into a wound. The nickname was from times where Pure Vanilla wasn’t… this lovesick, this insane. But now it feels like the nickname has a different meaning - to poke fun at you. To show both how he has changed, and how trapped in your situation you are. Like a little dove trapped in its cage.

You get abruptly ripped out of your thoughts when you feel Pure Vanilla’s cold hands grab your waist, tossing you over his lean shoulder.

Have his hands always been this cold?

No. No I don’t believe so.

They became this cold when his odd and obsessive behavior began. Day by day he’d feel colder and more devoid of the cookie he once was. It felt shameful to even call the cookie who was before you now ‘Pure Vanilla’. The cookie who now stood before you was like an empty shell, barren of any resemblance of the one whose name he was bearing.

You hated it. You hated HIM. Pure Vanilla and what has become of him.

“My dove, are you even listening to me?”

Your thoughts get disturbed by his voice, making you awfully aware of the situation you’re in.

Wait, when did you arrive at the Vanilla castle?

The cookie holding you lets out a soft sigh before looking at you.

“We are back home, my dove. Will you walk now or do you want me to carry you all the way to your tower?”

You quickly jump off his shoulder, not wanting his touch to linger on your body longer than it needs to.

Pure Vanilla lets out a sound of approval, his hand moving back to your body, creeping its way around your waist.

God, you can’t stand his touch. You know where your tower is, can’t he just let you go there on your own? Can’t he at least move his hand off of your body?

Pure Vanilla hums softly as his movement leads you both into entering the main door of the castle, your existence feeling as if it was swallowed. Glancing around the main hall of the castle you see many cookies moving around, some taking part in conversations with one another, other cookies tending to their respective tasks, such as cleaning or dusting. It looked like a different castle. It seemed… alive. Your tower is devoid of anything like this, dust covering almost every corner, conversation being unheard of. The only noise ever occurring in the tower are your footsteps as you try to escape, and Pure Vanilla’s words of obsession that are targeted towards you.

You desperately look at the working cookies before you, hoping at least one of them notices the look in your eyes and stops Pure Vanilla. Just one cookie, please. But no one can hear or see your pleas. If anything, it feels like everyone is deliberately ignoring your presence next to Pure Vanilla.

The suffocating presence of Pure Vanilla becomes more overwhelming when the grip on your waist tightens. A silent threat for you to behave. A warning for his little dove to not sing.

You silently nod to show him that you understand the threat that is looming over your head, feeling like the stave of your notes has been cut by scissors  that are held by him.

Pure Vanilla leads you towards your tower, his eyes looking towards your direction every few seconds to make sure you don’t do anything dumb, or anything he’d regret making you do.

You fight back the tears that have by now began to form in your eyes, not knowing if it’s from anger or from regret. Just five more seconds would have done it. No, just two!

The door to the tower you are forced to reside in opens with a loud creak, a sound that sounds awfully similar to a screech of a demon. This tower is like hell for you after all.

Pure Vanilla forces you inside before coming in too, slamming the door shut behind you both. There it is, the lifeless tower that confines your very existence within it. The void that somehow feels even emptier even with you and Pure Vanilla in it.

“It is time for us to go to your room, don’t you think so, my dove?”

You freeze in your spot, your muscles feeling as if they weren’t your own. Unable to move you only move your gaze to meet his, fear more than visible all over you.

Won’t he… leave? Why would he go to your room?

Pure Vanilla usually leaves you alone after a failed escape attempt, calling it a form of punishment. He thinks if you’re without him it’s a punishment. What a joke.

Pure Vanilla taps his foot on the ground  from impatience, waiting for your answer.

You swallow up the anger this cookie has made you feel over the time of you, trying to force your voice to sound concerned and afraid.

“Y-You’re not gonna punish me? You usually leave me…”

Pure Vanilla smiles and grabs your hand, forcing you up the stairs that stand at the end of the hallway, dragging you behind him as he walks fast.

That smile… you can tell he’s putting on an act. The smile is meant to look friendly and nice, but it feels as toxic as Pure Vanilla’s actions.

“Well, those punishments didn’t seem to be working, given how much you’ve been running out lately without my permission, so I thought of a new way to punish you.”

You gasp from fear, trying to force yourself out of his grasp. You don’t know what he has in mind, but his expression doesn’t show a sign that he has anything good in mind.

Pure Vanilla lets out a quiet hiss, your attempt at moving away from him seeming to annoy him more than anything.

His grip on your hand tightens, threatening to not only bruise it, but to break the bones within it. Sensing the danger in his actions you stop your struggle, the tears that have been threatening to fall from your eyes finally spilling down your cheeks. Pure Vanilla’s smile softens and becomes even more toxic-looking than before, unable to stop his face from twisting due to pleasure. 

Wait, I thought he was lovesick about you. So why does he take pleasure from your pain and suffering?

Wait… maybe, just maybe this is the punishment he was talking about? Just mentally breaking you? That must be right!... Right? What else could he be possibly doing?

Upon getting practically dragged to the room that you picked to live in within this hell, Pure Vanilla lets go of your arm, pushing you roughly onto the bed. So roughly that the breath you were about to take is knocked out of you, leaving you unable to react as his hands move to grab onto your shorts, taking them off so aggressively that you’re surprised they didn’t rip.

Wait… he took off your shorts?

Pure Vanilla grins as he sits on the bed next to you, quickly taking off your shirt before moving to your bra. You sob as your tears fill your vision, your hands moving up to stop Pure Vanilla in his disgusting actions.

The not so pure cookie sighs and grabs both of your wrists, pinning them above your head in agitation. Why are you fighting back? You never fought back against a punishment before. Does this mean that this new punishment will finally work? That it will make you behave? That it will make you stay?

“My dove, please don’t forget that this is a punishment. I will not stop no matter what you do.”

God no. Please stop! You need to get him off of you right now! You hate him and hate this! Was he seriously gonna…

Pure Vanilla keeps your wrists pinned over your head with one of his hands, his other, now free hand, moving to take your bra off as originally intended.

A loud sob bubbles from your throat, feeling as if you’re getting tortured by his actions. Knowing you’ll forever be haunted by what he is doing.

“Ah, look at you… you’re more beautiful than I could have ever imagined.”

You can’t see through your tear filled vision, but you can feel. You can feel that the bra that was shielding your breasts from his touch was now off. His touch on your breasts felt like it was burning your skin and flesh off.

You wanted to die.

Pure Vanilla’s grip on your wrists tightens as he tosses the bra off the bed, his hand now going for your panties.

“Wait, please stop! Don’t do this, I beg of you!”

You begin struggling under him again, kicking your legs in an attempt to hurt him. To get him off. To stop his actions.

Pure Vanilla sighs and takes off his stole, moving to tie it around your thighs and ankles. Why won’t you stop struggling, don’t you see it hurts him too?

… That was such a terrible lie. Even Pure Vanilla couldn’t convince himself that it was true. He was enjoying this more than anything in the world.

You felt like passing out, no, you felt like passing away. This was worse than torture. Both mentally and physically. You truly hope at this moment that Pure Vanilla doesn’t just die and disappear, you hope he goes to hell and gets tortured for all eternity.

Pure Vanilla pokes your thigh with his finger, seemingly satisfied with how much less you seem to be fighting him now. Or, well, much much more unable you are to fight back against him.

Moving his hand to your underwear he runs his fingers along your opening through it, smiling when he feels heat coming from your core. Ah, that means you want this too, doesn't it? He can feel how wet you are, he can see the small wet spot on your cotton panties.

He lets out a quiet moan when he pulls your panties off, well, as much as he can due to the restraints on your legs.

Wait, how would he even punish you if your legs were forcibly closed? Ah, he didn't think this far into the future. How saddening. Maybe if he just…

Pure Vanilla picks up your legs before moving to sit where they laid before, putting them over one of his shoulders.

It isn't the most comfortable position, but it will have to do. For the punishment.

One of his hands keeps a firm grip on your wrists, the other moving down to your cunt. Surprisingly to you, you feel yourself dripping wet. But why? You hated this! You'd rather kill yourself than keep doing this with Pure Vanilla. This was a punishment worse than death.

Pure Vanilla moans and dips his fingers into your dripping cunt, ignoring your sobs and screams of protest. It felt as if he took pleasure in them if anything. He loved your struggle. It made him feel that this punishment was working.

Pure Vanilla lets out a slight whine when he pulls his fingers out, disappointed to no longer feel you. But also excited for what's about to come.

“You keep sobbing and screaming, yet you're this wet. Are you enjoying your punishment, my dove? Alright then… let us go a bit further, shall we?”

You feel like his words are a knife, ripping apart your soul. But then again, that would feel better than what he is doing now.

You begin to sob louder when Pure Vanilla’s hand moves under his heavy robes, moving down to tug his pants off.

Please, please just die.

Not taking his pants off fully he just lowers them down his crotch, letting his cock spring free.

Oh god, you want to just disappear. How is that even meant to go inside of you without pain?

Pure Vanilla sees the dread in your eyes and mistakes it for concern. Cooing he grabs his cock, aligning it to your dripping entrance.

“Don’t worry my dove, I’ll make sure you find pleasure in this punishment.”

You arch your back and let out a scream, your throat felling as if you swallowed a barbed wire with the intensity of it. Please, this dove cannot keep singing any longer!

Pure Vanilla watches your reactions in amusement, deciding to keep pushing his cock into you. He wouldn't stop even if you begged him to. Even if he hurt you.

It's a punishment after all.

He lets out a loud moan when he bottoms out, his hand moving away from the base of his cock to your stomach, pressing down. You gag and twitch, the pressure on your stomach making you feel how deep Pure Vanilla's cock was hitting.

You felt sick to your stomach, and him pressing on it did not help one bit. You retch, tossing your head to the side, feeling the burn and sourness of the vomit come all the way to your throat from your stomach. You swallow it back up and sob loudly, your mouth falling open, lips connected by saliva in a messy manner.

Pure Vanilla laughs breathlessly as you almost vomit, finding it amusing. Not paying mind to how sick you’re feeling he thrusts even faster, his breath and moans hitching.

Please, please tell me he’s close. I just want this to end.

As he continues fucking into you, you can feel yourself becoming more and more sick. At this point you didn’t even know if it was from his actions or if you were truly dying. But let’s be honest, you’d love for it to be the latter.

Your eyes widen as you belch, a warning you take close. You know what this means. Twisting your body to the side, you feel the acidic vomit building up, your throat constricting. You vomit on the bed sheets next to where your head was just moments ago, the brown-ish orange liquid making a loud splattering noise as it hits the bedsheets.

Exhaustedly you lay your head back down, too pathetic and tired to keep fighting back against Pure Vanilla. Your teeth feel as if they were actively rotting away in your mouth from the acid that just left your mouth, and is currently on the bed next to your head.

“My dove, do you truly hate it this much? Hate me this much?”

You don’t care anymore, you’re too tired to answer him. You can only sob. But you still can’t help but notice the cocky undertone his voice has. Was he enjoying this? But how could he? You were so disgusted by him and his actions that you threw up.

Pure Vanilla’s breath shutters, his hands letting go of your wrists, grabbing forcibly at your jaw, making you kiss him. You don’t fight back, nor do you return the kiss. You just want to disappear.

Delivering a few more rough thrusts, Pure Vanilla lets out a loud moan, slamming his cock into you as deep as he can before cumming inside of you. You can’t struggle, but if you could, you’d rip his cock right off.

“Imagine it… us having a child together. That way you’ll never leave. You’ll have to care for our child.”

Is this the punishment? A child? Your, now impure and broken body, becoming torn apar by a child you don’t want?

You’d rather tear out all your organs.

Pure Vanilla waits for a few more moments before pulling his cock out of you, pulling his pants back up. He unties your legs and puts the stole back on, standing up and going to the door of your room.

Is he finally gonna leave?

“I hope you have learned your lesson, my dove.”

And with that, the soft-spoken cookie leaves.

Please… please someone rescue me.

[feyascorner]

wish you would look at me

summary. convinced that you’re in love with another, when you approach him with a serious expression, he readies himself for the inevitable—rejection. but is it ever that simple?

pairing. astarion x GN!reader

warnings. light angst, fluff

a/n. this is inspired by the ppl who have love triangles w gale and astarion in act 2 and what he says if you pick him bec when I saw that I almost cried pls let him be happy

If you asked him a few weeks ago, he’d laugh at the mere suggestion that he could ever be jealous of someone like Gale. That blasted wizard couldn't go four steps before begging for a magical shoe or pathetically limping his way behind the rest of the group while you frantically searched for the said shoe. And when he found out the wizard was a few errors away from exploding, somehow Astarion felt even more pity (not really) for the lad.

Yet here he was.

He’s not sure when the hell you and Gale had gotten so chummy, but it rubbed him the wrong way. Even if his expression would never show it. He sips at his wine while Karlach and Wyll continue to chat about God knows what, too busy peering from the corner of his eyes as you lean into Gale’s shoulders to look closer at the book he was holding.

Perhaps the tadpole had finally made you lose your mind. He'd almost dropped his goblet when you denied his invitation to his tent tonight, spouting the excuse that you'd asked Gale to help you with something, and now this?

God knows why you ever found the wizard charming. If Gale could do something, he could too—much better, in fact. He was sure of it.

His grip tightens around the goblet when he hears you laugh.

Sure, his original intentions for approaching you had been less than noble…and he might have seduced you for more selfish reasons than you originally knew, but as much as he hated himself for it, he'd grown rather fond of you. In his own way, of course.

He’d only realized that the anxious squirming in his stomach was not of fear but of affection when you'd defended him from that vile drow at Moonrise Towers. He'd half expected you to ask him to throw himself at her, yet you stood your ground, showing nothing but respect to his own boundaries while you failed to realize that he'd deceived your own.

He truly had no reason to feel this way. He was selfish, he knew, for feeling so possessive because not once had the two of you established being exclusive. Though you'd respected him, you saw him for just that. A friend to respect, and nothing more. Sure, you'd spent a few nights together, but it was a mindless night of passion and he knew he'd continue to be your fling until you found another to truly love. He had just hoped it wouldn't be someone like Gale, of all people…or Wyll…or Shadowheart…or anyone for that matter.

He shakes his head. The wine must be getting to him. Serious relationships aren't a luxury he can afford, he reminds himself, relaxing his shoulders. He’s perfectly okay with being your ally—nothing more or nothing less. Ecstatic, even.

But when Gale flips a page of the book and both of you lean closer again—this time dangerously close—he feels a sharp pain shoot up his hand.

“Uh, Fangs, you alright there?” Karlach stares at the cracked glass in his hand and even he blinks at it in disbelief.

Apparently not.

He sighs irritably, dumping the glass elsewhere. “I’m quite alright. Seems I just need a nice comfortable mattress than a thin bedroll on the ground, but it’ll do for now.”

“Need help patching that up? You're bleeding.”

He almost laughs, if it weren't for the giggle coming from your direction. “Blood’s my specialty, darling, remember?” Without another word, he paces into his tent, closing the flap behind him for the universe signal that screams ‘don’t bother me.’

So when half an hour later, when he no longer hears the crackle of the campfire, he sees your shadow emerge from the other side of his tent flap, he squints.

“Can I come in?” He fails to respond, and hears you shuffle. “Ah, are you asleep?”

At this, he can't help but snort. You instinctively peek inside, and he runs a hand through his hair, sighing in defeat. “If I'd been asleep just how would I answer that question?”

He motions you closer and you take it as a sign to step inside, careful to avoid stepping on any of his belongings before situating yourself in front of him. “It was rhetorical, obviously!”

“Of course,” he doesn't seem convinced, lips curling into a teasing grin. “Now tell me, what brings you to my palace this late at night? Surely not for a cuddle. I'd thought you declined my offer earlier?”

Usually, you'd smile, but instead you only look down at your clasped hands, seemingly in thought. “I needed to talk to you—without everyone else watching.”

The usual brightness to your tone is missing.

Oh, he thinks. You've come to end things with him.

“Ah,” is all he says. He can tell his smile hasn't dropped, but it doesn't feel that way. “I hear you've found a new lover. Perhaps you want to keep yourself for this one, true love? How romantic, darling.”

You frown at this, and he wonders if he’s done something wrong. But it does little to stop his defense mechanisms from springing into action, because he’s immediately slipping into his usual mask, grin stretching wider but never reaching his eyes.

He hates the words coming out of his own mouth as if they taste of poison. Still, his voice is steady, almost teasing. Perks of the 200 years spent shamelessly lying, he supposes. “So, is this the end of our late night trysts? Even though they were an awful lot of fun?”

He doesn’t think he could stand watching you with that damned wizard. He doesn't even want to think about it quite frankly, because all he feels is his chest tighten when he imagines someone else holding you the way he does. And gods, if had to watch Gale’s poor attempt at flirting one more time…

But then again, you'd be with someone who doesn't manipulate you. Someone who doesn't toy with your feelings, or someone who doesn't seduce you for protection.

His smile twitches, and he just braces himself for your response.

“I’d rather be with you.”

He stares at you, eyes wider than its ever been since he'd gotten this damn worm in his brain.

“What? Why?” he blurts, embarrassingly so, before he composes himself again and clears his throat. “I mean, well, I know why—but I thought you'd had something more…with Gale.”

As much as he despises the idea, he'd seen the way you'd laughed with him. And while it was a new experience for him to be fond of another person, he'd found that these feelings had led him to rather you be happy than dragging you down with him. If it meant you wouldn't regret your choice, he’d been willing to deal with it.

So why?

“I want something real with you, Astarion,” you say softly, eyes meeting his. “I don't know if you feel the same way, but Gale and I are better off as friends, and I told him before I came here. And besides, it’d be cruel of me to lead him on while my heart is with another.”

He thinks he might have died again just now. For the first time in decades, he’s actually at a loss for words. “I—if that's what you truly want—we can try. Be lovers, I mean.”

You finally smile at his words, and Gods above if that doesn't lift the excruciating weight of the past few weeks off his shoulders. He feels the warmth of your lips when you lean forward to give him a peck on the cheek, everything happening so fast that his mind is spinning. He snaps back into focus when you pull back.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

You could have—should have, done it earlier. With a smile of his own, he leads you back to him, this time planting a soft kiss on your lips. It’s short, and not nearly enough, but it’ll do for tonight.

“Well then, consider yourself wholeheartedly taken then, my dear.”

[ankababy]

A Home (part 17)

Part 1 Part 16 Part 18

Chishiya x reader x Niragi

TW: not even exactly the mention of 🍇, not even a literal hint, just a small part of a sentence that can be read as that. You probably won’t even notice, don’t look for it.

AN: I know that the way to the Beach is way too long and y’all want the Beach already but I promise I know what I’m doing😭 This is needed I promise.

You sighed, holding onto Chishiya’s sleeve, keeping up with their pace as the three of you walked. The butterfly was long forgotten in the distance, but the thought still lingered somewhere in the back of your mind. Maybe there’d be more where you were going. Maybe you’d see other little creatures, ones you could stop and admire for a few moments before Niragi crushed them.

You glanced up at him, watching as he twirled his gun around his fingers, his movements careless but precise. The way he handled the thing, the way he loved that damn gun—it made your stomach turn. He had proven exactly how much he enjoyed using it.

Still, it was Niragi.

That was just him.

You’d come to accept it, even if you didn’t like it.

“…Are we playing today?” you asked, voice soft but casual, as if you weren’t asking about potentially risking your life.

“Of course we are.” Niragi said, like it was obvious. Like it was just another part of the day.

You let out a breath, nodding. “Okay.” you murmured, more to yourself than anything.

Niragi suddenly pushed your head away with his hand, palm against your forehead, laughing.

You stumbled slightly but didn’t fight it, letting him manhandle you like a ragdoll.

“You’re so fucking weird.” he teased.

You pouted, rubbing your forehead.

“I wasn’t even doing anything.” you grumbled, frowning at him.

“Exactly.” he said, tapping your nose with his finger. “That’s what makes it fun.”

You sighed.

Of course Niragi found you entertaining just by existing. It was ridiculous. But you didn’t fight it. Didn’t snap at him, didn’t tell him to leave you alone.

Because, truthfully…you were used to it.

You didn’t actually mind it.

Not when he was like this.

Not when he was touching you without hurting you.

You could handle Niragi when he was annoying.

It was better than when he was violent.

Chishiya exhaled sharply beside you, clearly unamused, but you didn’t miss the way his gaze lingered on you for a second longer than usual before he looked ahead again.

You didn’t ask what he was thinking.

You probably didn’t want to know.

“Come on.” Niragi said, throwing an arm over your shoulders again and tugging you along, as if you weren’t already walking.

And you just… let him.

You always would.

~

Your feet ached. Every step sent a dull pulse of pain through your legs, and the sun, hanging low in the sky, cast long shadows across the empty streets. You had been walking the whole day, without stopping, without food, without water, and it was finally getting to you.

You never complained.

Not really.

But right now?

You let out a soft, pathetic whine, dragging your feet as you trailed behind them. “I’m hungry…”

Nothing.

They heard you. You knew they did.

You could see Niragi’s shoulders tense slightly ahead of you, could see the way Chishiya’s head tilted just a fraction, but neither of the responded.

“I’m thirsty.” you tried again, slower this time, like they needed to understand the severity of the situation.

Still nothing.

You huffed, rubbing at your face. “…I’m tired.”

Niragi finally turned. And he looked at you like you were the most annoying thing he’d ever laid eyes on. “You’re always tired.”

Your pout deepened. “Because I never get to rest!” you whined, arms swinging at your sides. “We’ve been walking all day—without stopping!”

“And?” Niragi said, mocking. “What, you want me to carry you again?”

You paused.

Blinking.

Because well—

Now that he mentioned it…

He barked out a laugh at the look on your face, grinning. “Oh, no. No way.” He turned forward again, continuing on like you weren’t suffering. “I already did that shit once. You get one.”

You sighed, dragging your feet harder now, like they’d feel bad and slow down.

They didn’t.

You tried again.

“Chishiya…” you called, more hopeful this time, speeding up slightly to get closer to him.

But he didn’t even look at you.

“I’m not carrying you either.” he said simply.

You let out a dramatic groan. “I wasn’t asking for that!”

You totally were.

He didn’t call you out on it, though.

But Niragi did.

“She totally was.” he laughed, nudging Chishiya’s shoulder. Chishiya barely reacted, eyes set ahead.

“Just—can we stop?” you tried. “Just for a little?”

Niragi snorted. “No.”

And you nearly stomped your foot. “Why not?”

“Because I said so.” he answered so quickly, like a petulant child, before laughing again at his own stupidity.

You didn’t laugh. “You’re mean.”

“You’re slow.” he shot back. “Maybe if you moved your ass instead of complaining so much, we’d already be there.”

“I wouldn’t be complaining if I wasn’t dying!”

“You’re fine.”

“I’m not!”

“You are.”

You let out a frustrated little noise, throwing your hands up.

This was so unfair. He was awful.

And Chishiya? Well. He was at least less awful.

You slowed your steps again, lagging behind them, defeated. And even though you were tired, and hungry, and thirsty, and miserable—you still followed. Because you had nowhere else to go. You dragged your feet along the pavement, arms crossed over your chest, your bottom lip sticking out in a deep pout. You were hungry, thirsty, exhausted— and the worst part? You had to pee.

Badly.

And knowing these assholes, that wasn’t going to go over well.

But you had to try.

You picked up your pace a little, hurrying to close the gap between you and Chishiya. Niragi was always an asshole, but sometimes, if you were really lucky, Chishiya would at least consider listening to you.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

“Chishiya…” you called softly, peering up at him.

He didn’t look at you.

Didn’t even acknowledge you.

“…Chishiya.” you said again, more insistent this time, tugging at his sleeve.

He let out a small breath through his nose. “What.”

You blinked up at him, still pulling at his sleeve. “I have to pee.”

He was silent.

Then—

“No.”

Your mouth fell open. “What do you mean, no?”

“We’re not stopping.” he said simply.

You let out an exasperated noise, dropping his sleeve and turning your attention to Niragi instead.

He was already grinning.

You didn’t like that.

“Niragi.” you started, hopeful. “I really, really have to—”

“Pee yourself.”

You froze. Blinking. The audacity. Your brows furrowed instantly, a small gasp leaving your lips. “I am not peeing myself!”

Niragi just laughed. “Well, then hold it.”

“I can’t hold it forever!”

“Figure it out.”

You groaned. “You’re both awful.”

“Yup.”

“I hate you.”

“I know.”

Your eye twitched. This was so unfair. It wasn’t like you were asking for a lot! You weren’t even asking them to find a real bathroom—just a second, just to stop for one second so you could go somewhere behind a car or something.

But no.

Because they were assholes.

Evil.

Your legs pressed together slightly as you walked, and you let out another dramatic whine. “I can’t believe this.” you muttered. “You’re really making me suffer.”

“You’ll live.”

You sighed, shoulders dropping. You had no choice but to keep walking. You’d have to figure it out later.

But you weren’t forgetting this.

They were going to pay for this.

You walked along behind them, practically dragging your feet, your arms swinging dramatically with every step. The sky was growing darker, the city eerily quiet, but all you could focus on was the increasingly urgent need to pee.

It was honestly becoming a crisis.

“Come onnnn.” you whined, hurrying a few steps to catch up to them again. “Can’t we stop for just five minutes?”

“No.” Chishiya replied without looking at you.

“Why not?” you protested, throwing your arms up. “It’ll be quick! I’ll be quick!”

“Still no.”

You groaned, dragging your hands down your face. “Please, I’m begging you.”

Niragi snickered, glancing over his shoulder at you. “Didn’t know you’d get so desperate over something so boring.”

You shot him a glare. “It’s not boring if you’re the one who has to pee.”

“Piss your pants then.”

You gasped. “I am not going to pee myself!”

“Why not? Could be fun.”

Your eyes widened in horror. “That’s disgusting.”

Niragi just laughed.

You stomped your foot, frustrated. “You’re both being so mean to me!”

Chishiya let out a small breath through his nose. “You’ll survive.”

You whined again, burying your face in your hands. “Oh my god.”

They kept walking. You stared at their backs, your nose scrunching in frustration.

Okay. Fine. If they weren’t going to stop, then you’d just… you’d…

Wait.

If you went off to pee by yourself…

Alone.

In the dark.

In a creepy, empty city.

Your stomach sank.

You glanced nervously over your shoulder. The streets stretched on endlessly behind you, shadowed alleyways and looming buildings on either side. Even with the sky darkening, the silence was deafening.

What if something was out there? What if someone was out there?

A shiver ran down your spine.

…Maybe stopping wasn’t such a good idea.

But you really had to pee.

Your lip wobbled.

This was a dilemma.

You hurried up to them again, practically skipping to catch up.“Niragi.”

“What.”

“I don’t wanna go alone.”

Niragi raised an eyebrow, looking over at you. “What, you want me to watch?”

“No!”

Chishiya sighed.

You whined, stomping your foot again. “You’re making this so much harder than it needs to be!”

“Sounds like a you problem.”

You huffed. “You’re both awful.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Niragi waved a hand dismissively. “Quit your bitching.”

“I’m not bitching.”

“You’re definitely bitching.”

You pouted. “I just don’t wanna go alone.”

Niragi tilted his head at you, eyes narrowing slightly. Then, to your surprise, he shoved his gun into your hands.

“There.” His lips curled into a wicked smirk. “Now you can go take care of yourself.”

You stared down at the gun in your hands. Looked back up at him. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

Niragi shrugged. “Point and shoot.”

You frowned. “That’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking.” He stepped closer. “Unless you’d rather I come with you.”

You shoved him. “Ew! No!”

He just laughed.

You huffed, glaring at him, but your eyes dropped back down to the gun.

…Okay. You could work with this.

It wasn’t exactly comforting, but at least you’d have something with you.

You sighed, gripping the gun a little tighter. “Fine.”

Niragi snickered, and Chishiya simply kept walking, not even bothering to look back at you. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself before stepping off the road and into the shadows.

You could do this.

Probably.

Niragi had a habit of testing boundaries.

It wasn’t enough for him to win someone over. No, once he had someone close—once they were within arm’s reach, once they trusted him enough to look at him without fear—that’s when he started to push. He wanted to see how far he could go. How much he could get away with before you snapped, before you pushed back, before you told him to stop.

But you never did. That was the thing about you. You didn’t push back. You just took it.

Sure, you pouted, you whined, you huffed and rolled your eyes, but you never once told him to stop. You never yelled at him. You never looked at him with the kind of fear or disgust that he’d gotten used to from everyone else. Even when he scared you—and oh, he knew he scared you sometimes—you didn’t run.

You stayed.

It was fascinating.

You were fascinating.

Soft. Sweet. Easy.

Like a little wind-up doll, all dressed in pastels and wide eyes, clinging to his arm with those delicate little hands and flinching at the sound of gunfire. You forgave him far too easily, like it was second nature. Like you didn’t even think about it. He could scream in your face one minute and have you curled up against him the next, and you wouldn’t question it.

Maybe it was because you were scared.

But Niragi didn’t think that was it.

He’d seen fear. Hell, he lived for fear. He could practically taste it when it clung to the air. But you… you weren’t scared. Not really. Sure, you flinched when he got loud, and your eyes went all wide when he waved his gun around, but there was something else there, under the surface. Some quiet, unshakable belief that he wouldn’t actually hurt you.

And he wouldn’t.

Probably.

You were too fun to mess with.

Besides, you were his.

Not in a romantic sense. Not really. But in the way a cat claimed a favorite toy. Or maybe a favorite bug. One he could bat around a little, watch it squirm, see what it would do.

You made things… interesting.

And as long as you kept taking it, he wasn’t going to stop.

Why would he?

But Chishiya? Chishiya was a whole different story. Where Niragi was loud and reckless, Chishiya was quiet. The kind of person who never did anything without a reason. Every look, every word, every step was carefully measured, weighed against some invisible scale that only he could see.

Chishiya didn’t push.

He watched.

There was a kind of quiet judgment in his gaze, the kind that made people squirm without him ever needing to raise his voice. He could sit silently for hours, observing the people around him, taking in every twitch, every glance, every flicker of emotion, and somehow know exactly what made them tick.

And that made him dangerous.

You intrigued him.

You were soft. Open. Easy to read. Everything you felt was written plainly across your face, from the crinkle of your nose when Niragi teased you to the way your eyes softened when Chishiya so much as glanced in your direction. There was no mask with you. No calculation. Just pure, unfiltered emotion.

It was almost… refreshing.

Almost.

But it also made you vulnerable.

And Chishiya didn’t trust vulnerability.

He watched the way you latched onto Niragi, how you clung to his arm even after he’d scared you half to death. He watched the way you forgave. The way you trusted. The way you gave and gave and gave, even when you got nothing in return.

And he didn’t like it.

Not because he cared.

Not really.

But because he knew people like Niragi. People who took and took and took, chewing others up and spitting them out without a second thought. He knew what it meant to be soft in a place like this. He knew how easily softness could be crushed.

And maybe—just maybe—he didn’t want to see that happen to you.

Maybe.

But he wasn’t about to admit that.

You picked up the pace, the sound of your footsteps echoing off the empty buildings. When you finally reached them, you shoved the gun back into Niragi’s hands without ceremony. “Here. I don’t want this anymore.”

Niragi laughed, loud, spinning the gun in his hand. “Aww, done playing soldier?” He gave you a grin that showed just a little too much teeth. “Figured you’d end up shooting yourself in the foot.”

You ignored him, wiping the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand. “It’s so hot.” you whined, tugging at the front of your dress to fan yourself. “I feel like I’m gonna melt.”

Chishiya barely spared you a glance. “It’s summer.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” you grumbled. “I hate it. I feel all sticky.” You wiped your hands on the hem of your dress and wrinkled your nose. “And I’m hungry.”

Niragi scoffed. “You’re always hungry.”

You blinked up at him, eyes wide and innocent. “Because you never feed me.”

He barked out a laugh. “You’re not a fucking puppy.”

“I could be. If it meant you’d actually give me something to eat.”

“Well, aren’t you just precious.” he sneered, reaching out to flick your nose. You swatted his hand away, scowling, but he only grinned wider. “You’ll eat after the game.”

Your stomach sank. “After?”

Chishiya glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “Be patient.”

You stared at him, mouth opening and closing as you tried to find the right words. “But…” You looked around, gesturing to the empty street. “But it’s already late. What if the game takes hours? What if I pass out from hunger in the middle of it?” You pressed a hand dramatically to your forehead. “You’ll have to carry me.”

“That’d be the least of our problems.” Chishiya deadpanned.

You turned to Niragi, wide-eyed and pleading. “What if I die?”

He snorted. “Then at least you won’t be hungry anymore.”

You gasped, slapping his arm. “You’re awful.”

“And you’re dramatic.” Niragi smirked, twirling his gun again as he walked ahead. “Come on, princess. You’ll survive.”

You huffed but followed, dragging your feet a little just to be petty. The heat pressed down on you, making every step feel heavier, and the hunger gnawed at your stomach. At least you didn’t have to pee anymore. Your eyes drifted to the sky, watching as the colors darkened, the last streaks of sunlight melting into shadows.

Fuck. Fuck them. Fuck you. Fuck.

~

The game was set in an old department store—a massive, darkened labyrinth of empty shelves and abandoned checkout counters. The automatic doors had long since stopped working, left ajar just enough for people to slip through. It felt cold inside, even with the summer heat lingering outside, and the air smelled faintly of dust and rust. The kind of place that felt haunted even if there weren’t death games happening inside.

The three of you stood near the escalators, waiting. The others—about ten or so—scattered through the first floor, some lingering near the dark aisles, others watching the entrance. Everyone was quiet, the only sounds coming from the soft hum of the emergency lights overhead. Each flicker of movement had heads turning sharply, eyes darting, bodies tense.

Niragi stood to your right, leaning against a pillar, arms crossed over his chest. His gun rested easily against his hip, one finger tapping lazily against the handle. He scanned the room with a bored expression, though you knew better. He was watching. Calculating. Deciding who would scream the loudest if he shot them first.

Chishiya was on your left, leaning against the glass railing, his gaze equally sharp but far more subtle. He had that quiet curiosity about him, like he was studying everyone as if they were pieces on a board, already thinking three moves ahead.

You, on the other hand, were fidgeting. The cold air made your skin prickle, and you shifted from foot to foot, glancing around. You hated the waiting. The quiet. It was always worse before the game started, when the silence felt heavy, like it was pressing down on you.

You frowned, glancing around the store. “It’s weird. I always thought department stores were kind of cozy, you know? When they’re open and full of people.” You rubbed your arms, shivering a little. “But now it feels… wrong.”

“That’s because it is wrong.” Niragi drawled, pushing off the pillar and slinging an arm around your shoulders. “This place is a graveyard. Bet you anything half these losers won’t make it out.”

You frowned but didn’t shrug him off. The weight of his arm was grounding, in a way. “Don’t say that.”

He laughed. “What, too dark for you?” He squeezed your shoulder, leaning in close. “You better toughen up. Games don’t care how sweet you are.”

You sighed, resting your head against his arm. “I know.”

Chishiya watched the exchange quietly, his eyes flicking between the two of you. He tilted his head slightly, observing the way Niragi hovered close, possessive in a way that felt more animal than human. He’d always been like that. Claiming things. People. Biting into them just to see how much they’d bleed.

But you… You were soft. Warm. And Niragi clung to that warmth like a drowning man, desperate and reckless, sinking his claws into you just to keep from going under. Chishiya couldn’t decide if it was pathetic or dangerous. Maybe both.

You shifted, pulling away from Niragi just enough to face Chishiya. “What about you? Do you think we’ll be okay?”

He blinked slowly, considering you. “Depends.”

“On what?”

“On the game.”

You sighed, leaning against the railing. “You’re no help.”

Niragi snorted. “Told you.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, but before he could retaliate, the lights flickered. Everyone tensed, eyes snapping to the ceiling as the emergency lights blinked twice before settling into a steady glow. The sound of heavy metal doors sliding shut echoed through the building, sealing everyone inside.

A screen flickered to life above the escalators, casting the room in a cold, blue light.

GAME: SILENT.

DIFFICULTY: 5 OF DIAMONDS

Of course. You glanced at Chishiya, who barely blinked. Niragi just sneered.

RULES:

Each player will be assigned a section of the store. You must locate your section and remain there until further instruction.

If the sound sensors detect noise above a certain threshold—

A low beep sounded from overhead. The screen shifted, showing a digital counter set to 100. It hovered ominously, a bright red warning against the cold blue screen.

—the counter will decrease.

The screen displayed a quick animation: a digital figure knocking over a can, the counter ticking down. When it hit 0, a loud, sharp buzz echoed through the store, and the figure collapsed. Dead.

If the counter reaches zero, all players will be eliminated.

Silence. The room felt colder. Heavier. You gripped your arms tightly, barely breathing.

“Wait…” You frowned. “So we just have to be quiet?”

Niragi laughed under his breath, low. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

Chishiya’s eyes narrowed. “There’s more.”

The screen flickered again, showing a floor plan of the department store. Various sections lit up—electronics, clothing, home things—each one marked with a small red dot.

A challenge will be issued in each section. Complete the challenge without triggering the sound sensors. Failure to complete the challenge will result in a penalty.

You didn’t even want to know what the penalty was.

Complete all challenges before the counter reaches zero to win.

And just like that, the screen went dark. The emergency lights dimmed even further, barely illuminating the space. The only sound was the faint buzz of the screen and your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.

A soft click echoed through the store, and you jumped as small wristbands slid out from a slot below the screen. One for each of the players.

Niragi grabbed his first, spinning it around his finger before snapping it onto his wrist. Chishiya took his without a word, fastening it with a soft click. You hesitated before slipping yours on, the band tightening automatically.

A soft beep sounded as the screens on your wristbands lit up.

GAME START.

A small map appeared, showing your location and marking a path to your assigned section.

“Well,” Niragi said, rolling his shoulders. “looks like we’re splitting up.”

Your heart sank. “What?”

He tilted his head. “You heard the rules. Each player gets a section. Don’t worry, babe. I’ll come find you when you screw up.”

You frowned, glancing nervously at Chishiya. He sighed, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “The challenges will test your problem-solving. Staying quiet is just the extra layer of difficulty.” he murmured.

“But…” You bit your lip. “What if I can’t do it?”

Niragi snorted. “Then you die.”

You flinched, but Chishiya just rolled his eyes. “He’s exaggerating.” He glanced at his wristband, already scanning the map. “The goal is to complete all the challenges before the counter hits zero. As long as you’re careful, you’ll be fine.”

You weren’t sure you believed him.

Niragi turned toward the aisles, whistling softly—the sound immediately earning a soft beep from the ceiling, the counter ticking down from 100 to 99.

“Oops.” he grinned. “Guess I should be more careful.”

You wanted to slap him.

Chishiya sighed. “Let’s go.”

You followed them through the store, the silence heavy around you. Your section was in the clothing department, while Chishiya’s was in electronics and Niragi’s in sport.

As you approached the branching hallways, Niragi gave you a sharp grin. “Don’t get lost.” He flicked your forehead, making you flinch. “I’ll come find your corpse later.”

Before you could snap at him, he walked off into the darkness, gun resting on his shoulder.

Chishiya looked at you. “I think you’ll survive.” His gaze softened, just slightly. “Stay quiet. And don’t overthink things.”

You nodded, biting your lip. “Okay.”

He hesitated for a moment, eyes lingering on you, before finally turning away, slipping into the shadows.

And just like that… you were alone.

~

The sky was dark, darker than usual.

You stood alone on the cracked sidewalk, arms wrapped tightly around your little pink bag like it could shield you from the horrors of this place. The game was over. You survived. But that familiar weight in your chest wouldn’t ease.

The street was dead silent, save for the soft scuff of your pretty shoes shifting nervously against the pavement. You glanced down at your hands, trembling slightly as they clutched the straps of your bag. You squeezed your fingers tighter, trying to ground yourself.

You were fine. You were alive. That’s what mattered.

Then you heard footsteps.

Your head snapped up, heart lurching into your throat. From the shadows, two figures emerged—familiar, but no less unsettling. Niragi’s long frame cut through the night like a knife, his rifle slung lazily over his shoulder, mouth twisted into something like a sneer.

Chishiya followed a few paces behind, quieter, calmer, hands tucked into his pockets like he hadn’t just come from a life-or-death game. His eyes flicked over you once, taking in the way you curled into yourself, before settling somewhere past your shoulder.

“What, you thought we’d die or something?” Niragi’s voice was low, almost bored, but it made you flinch all the same. His eyes glinted under the faint moonlight, his piercings also.

You shrank back a little, but forced yourself to speak. “I… I was worried.” Your voice came out soft, barely above a whisper. You hated how fragile it sounded. “I just—I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Niragi scoffed, shifting his rifle with a careless swing of his arm. “How cute.” He tilted his head, studying you. “What do you think this is, princess? Some happy little survival club? No one cares if you’re worried.”

You dropped your gaze, biting your lip.

Of course he’d say that. Of course. But still… you had worried. You always did. Even when you knew you shouldn’t.

“I care.” you murmured, almost to yourself.

Niragi’s grin faltered for a second. Just a second. His eyes flicked over you again, slower this time, like he was trying to figure out what the hell you were made of. Then he snorted, shaking his head. “You’re a real piece of work.”

You shifted uncomfortably, fingers tightening around your bag. “I’m glad you’re okay.” you said softly, eyes darting toward Chishiya. He hadn’t spoken a word. Just stood there, quiet.

“You too, Chishiya.”

He blinked, surprised for a moment that you’d addressed him. Then he offered the smallest nod, eyes lingering on you a beat longer than necessary. It wasn’t much. But it was enough.

The silence stretched between the three of you, heavy and uncomfortable. You shifted your weight from foot to foot, searching for something—anything—to fill the void.

“So… how was the game?” you asked quietly.

Niragi let out a sharp bark of laughter. “What, you wanna swap war stories now?”

You flinched. “No, I just… I don’t know.” You looked down, scuffing your shoe against the cracked pavement. “I guess I just want to talk.”

Niragi scoffed again, but it sounded almost tired this time. He turned away, staring out into the darkness like he could see something you couldn’t. “You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?”

You bit your lip, unsure if you should apologize. You shifted on your feet, then hesitantly stepped closer to them. Neither of them moved. Slowly, carefully, you reached out and brushed your fingers against Niragi’s sleeve. His body tensed instantly, and for a moment, you thought he might shove you away. But he didn’t. He just stood there, silent and still, letting your touch linger.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” you whispered again.

Niragi scoffed, low and quiet, but you heard the way his breath hitched. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

Maybe you were. But you didn’t let go.

You shifted again, biting your lip, voice soft and hesitant. “Um… Can we eat now?”

Niragi’s head snapped toward you so fast you almost stumbled back. His eyes narrowed, the corner of his mouth curling into a sneer. “What?”

You swallowed thickly, fingers twisting into the fabric of your bag. “You… you promised.” you whispered. “After the game. You said we could eat after the game.”

Niragi stared at you for a long moment, eyes glittering with something unreadable. Then, to your horror, he let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Oh, right. I forgot I made a promise to the princess.” He leaned in close, voice dropping into something low and mean. “Newsflash, sweetheart. Promises don’t mean shit here.”

“But I’m hungry.” you said softly, almost pleading. “You said—”

“I said,” Niragi snapped, cutting you off. “a lot of things. Doesn’t mean I have to keep my word.” He grinned, sharp and mean, tilting his head to the side. “Besides, what’s a little hunger? Builds character.”

Your stomach twisted painfully, both from his words and the ache gnawing at your insides. You’d been walking all day, barely eating anything, and the fear from earlier had left you drained. You were exhausted. You were starving. And Niragi… Niragi didn’t care.

Niragi stared at you for a moment, eyes flickering over your trembling form, before scoffing and turning away. “Jesus. You’re so fucking pathetic.”

Your heart sank. You bit your lip, glancing toward Chishiya for support, but he remained silent, watching the interaction with that same unreadable expression. You dropped your gaze, shoulders sagging.

Then, quietly, Chishiya spoke. “She should eat.”

Niragi froze, his head turning slowly toward Chishiya. “What?” he hissed.

Chishiya met his glare with infuriating calmness, his voice quiet and even. “She should eat.” he repeated. “You promised her. Keep your word.”

The air shifted instantly. Niragi’s eyes narrowed dangerously, his whole body tensing like a coiled spring. He took a step toward Chishiya, his sneer sharpening into something colder, crueler. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were in charge now.” His voice dripped with venom. “Didn’t know you suddenly cared.”

Chishiya didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink. “I don’t.” he said simply. “But she does.”

Niragi’s grip tightened around his rifle, knuckles going white. For a moment, you thought he might actually raise it. The tension between them crackled like static in the air, dangerous. You shrank back, heart racing, eyes darting between them.

Then, just as quickly as it came, the moment passed. Niragi let out a sharp breath, rolling his eyes. “You’re so fucking annoying.” He turned away, muttering under his breath.

Niragi started walking, the weight of his rifle slung lazily over his shoulder.

You blinked hard, trying to stay focused, but the pavement felt like it was tilting beneath your feet. Your stomach twisted painfully, the hunger gnawing at you sharper now, almost dizzying. You started walking after them. You didn’t want to cause any more trouble.

The game had been long. The walking had been longer. Your body felt drained, trembling slightly with every step. But you kept going. You always did.

Then your vision blurred. The world tilted sideways, and your knees buckled.

“Woah—shit.” Your knees hit the pavement before you even realized you’d fallen, the rough concrete scraping against your skin. Your pink bag slipped from your fingers, landing with a soft thud beside you. The world spun violently.

“Y/N?” Chishiya’s voice was quiet, but sharp enough to cut through the haze in your mind. Footsteps followed, slow.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to ground yourself, but it didn’t help. The hunger, the exhaustion—it was all too much. “I’m… I’m okay.” you whispered, though you weren’t sure who you were trying to convince. “Just… dizzy.”

“Dizzy?” Niragi’s voice snapped through the night like a whip. His footsteps were faster, louder, echoing in your ears. “The fuck do you mean ‘dizzy’?”

You blinked up at him, vision still swimming. He loomed over you, jaw tight. His rifle hung loosely at his side, but his other hand twitched at his hip, fingers curling and uncurling like he didn’t know what to do with them.

You forced a weak smile, though it probably looked more like a grimace. “I just… I think I need a minute.”

Niragi’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “A minute.” he repeated. “You’re sitting on the fucking ground, looking like you’re about to pass out, and you need a minute?”

You flinched at the sharpness in his tone, but before you could answer, Chishiya’s voice cut through the tension.

“She hasn’t eaten.”

The silence that followed was deafening. You saw the way Niragi’s body tensed, his fingers curling tighter at his side. He turned slowly, fixing Chishiya with a look so cold it could’ve frozen the air between them. “What?”

Chishiya tilted his head slightly, his face unreadable. “She hasn’t eaten.” he repeated calmly. “I told you.”

Niragi’s jaw tightened. “Oh, fuck you.”

Chishiya shrugged. “You’re the one who said promises don’t mean shit.”

Niragi’s grip tightened around his rifle, knuckles going white. For a second, you thought he might actually swing it at Chishiya, but instead, he whirled back toward you, crouching down so you were eye-level. His face was inches from yours, scanning your face like he was trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with you.

You shrank back slightly, heart racing. “Niragi, I—”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he snapped. His voice was sharp, almost angry, but there was something else beneath it—something raw. “Huh? You were just gonna fucking keel over and die on us?”

“I didn’t want to bother anyone.” you whispered. “You were tired after the game, and I didn’t want to make things worse.”

Niragi stared at you. Then he scoffed, running a hand through his hair and letting out a bitter laugh. “Unbelievable.” He stood abruptly, pacing a few steps away before turning back to glare at Chishiya. “You think you’re so fucking smart, huh?” He jabbed a finger at him. “Standing there, all high and mighty, like you knew this was gonna happen.”

Chishiya’s gaze flicked toward you, lingering for a moment before shifting back to Niragi. “I did.”

Niragi’s grip tightened around his rifle, but before he could lash out again, you spoke. “I’m sorry.”

Both men turned toward you. Niragi looked pissed. Chishiya just looked… tired.

“I didn’t mean to make things difficult.” you said softly. “I just… I didn’t want to cause any more trouble.” You forced a small smile, even as your vision swam again. “I’ll be okay. I just need a minute.”

Niragi stared at you, his jaw tight, breathing heavy. Then he let out a sharp breath and crouched down in front of you again, his hands resting on his knees. “You’re so fucking stupid.” His voice was quieter now, almost… soft.

You blinked up at him, surprised. “What?”

“You heard me.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re fucking stupid. Always putting everyone else first. Always apologizing.” His eyes narrowed. “You think that makes you strong? It makes you weak.”

You swallowed, lowering your gaze. “I’m not weak.”

Niragi stared at you for a long moment. Then, to your surprise, he sighed and dropped onto the pavement beside you, legs stretched out in front of him. “You’re lucky I like weak things.”

You glanced at him, confused. “What?”

He ignored you, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a crumpled protein bar. Without a word, he shoved it into your hands. “Eat.”

You blinked down at the bar, then back up at him. “But—”

“Eat.” he snapped, eyes narrowing. “Before I shove it down your throat.”

You hesitated, glancing toward Chishiya, who just raised a brow and gestured vaguely toward Niragi. “Don’t look at me. I told him to feed you an hour ago.”

Niragi growled under his breath, but you ignored him, carefully unwrapping the bar and taking a small bite. You nearly moaned. Your body practically sighed in relief, the dizziness easing just enough for you to breathe again.

You glanced toward Niragi, your heart softening a little at the way he stared out into the dark, jaw tight, refusing to look at you.

“Thank you.” you whispered.

He didn’t respond. Just sat there in silence, his fingers twitching slightly at his side.

Chishiya watched quietly, eyes flicking between the two of you before he let out a soft huff and slipped his hands into his pockets. “Idiots.”

Neither of you answered.

The dizziness had faded to a dull throb behind your eyes, and your body felt less like it was about to give out. Small victories.

You shifted slightly, curling your legs beneath you as you hugged your pink bag to your chest. Niragi sat beside you, silent now, his long legs stretched out in front of him, rifle resting lazily across his lap. He hadn’t spoken since forcing the protein bar into your hands. Didn’t even look at you. Just stared out into the night like he was waiting for something—or maybe trying not to feel something.

Chishiya lingered a few feet away, leaning against the crumbling wall of the store behind you.

“Do you think…” You hesitated, voice soft, almost unsure. “Do you think we could go back inside?”

Niragi stiffened slightly, his head snapping toward you. “What?”

You swallowed, curling your fingers tighter around your bag. “The department store. There might still be food in there. Or water. I just thought…” You trailed off, heart pounding a little faster under his sudden scrutiny. “It’s probably a stupid idea.”

Niragi stared at you for a long moment, his dark eyes unreadable. Then, without a word, he pushed himself to his feet, slinging his rifle over his shoulder.

You blinked, startled. “Where are you going?”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Where do you think?” He jerked his head toward the dark entrance of the store. “Someone’s gotta keep you from passing out again.”

Before you could say anything, he walked off toward the building. You stared after him, a little stunned. Niragi… was going to get food? For you?

Chishiya let out a soft huff, drawing your attention. “I wouldn’t be so touched.” he said dryly. “He probably just wants an excuse to shoot something.”

You frowned, hugging your bag tighter as Niragi disappeared into the shadows. “He’s not that bad.”

Chishiya raised a brow, clearly unimpressed. “No?”

You sighed, leaning your head back against the wall behind you. “Okay, maybe he is that bad. But… he didn’t have to go.”

Chishiya shrugged, his gaze drifting toward the dark entrance. “He likes having an excuse to feel useful.” His eyes flicked back to you. “And you give him a lot of excuses.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. The silence stretched between you. You shifted slightly, picking at a loose thread on your bag before glancing up at him.

“What about you?” you asked softly. “Why do you stay?”

Chishiya blinked, clearly not expecting the question. He tilted his head slightly, considering you for a moment. “I could ask you the same thing.”

You shrugged. “I asked first.”

A ghost of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, but it faded quickly. “I stay for the entertainment.” he said simply.

The silence stretched again, but this time it felt different. Softer, somehow. You glanced toward the department store, half-expecting Niragi to come stomping back out, but the entrance remained dark and empty.

“Do you think he’s okay?” you asked quietly.

Chishiya huffed a soft laugh. “He’s probably having the time of his life.” He tilted his head slightly, studying you. “You worry too much.”

You smiled faintly. “Someone has to.”

Chishiya didn’t respond. Just watched you quietly, his expression unreadable.

Niragi had been gone for a while now, long enough that you started to feel that familiar worry twist in your stomach. But when you glanced at Chishiya, leaning against the wall a few feet away, he looked as relaxed as ever.

You bit your lip, watching him quietly for a moment. The shadows stretched long across his face, the soft moonlight catching on the silver of his hair. He didn’t look at you, eyes half-lidded as he stared off into the dark. Always so distant. Always so quiet.

“Hey.” you said softly.

Chishiya’s gaze flicked toward you, slow and lazy, like you’d interrupted some deep train of thought. He raised a brow. “What?”

You hesitated, fingers twisting into the fabric of your bag. “What’s up with you?”

His brow arched higher, and for a moment, he just stared at you, like you’d asked him the dumbest question imaginable. “What?”

You shrugged, glancing down at your hands. “I mean… how are you? You’re always so quiet. I just wondered…” You trailed off, biting your lip. “I don’t know. You don’t talk much.”

Chishiya let out a soft huff, barely a laugh, and looked away again. “There’s not much to say.”

You frowned, shifting slightly to face him better. “That’s not true.” You hesitated, then patted the empty spot on the pavement beside you. “Sit down.”

“What?”

You rolled your eyes. “Just sit.”

For a moment, you thought he might ignore you. But after a long pause, he let out a quiet sigh and pushed off the wall, walking over to sink onto the pavement beside you. He stretched his legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles, and leaned back on his hands.

You watched him quietly for a moment, trying to read the expression on his face, but as always, it gave away nothing. He just stared out into the darkness, eyes half-lidded, mouth set in a soft line.

“Better?” he asked dryly.

You smiled faintly. “A little.”

The silence settled again, heavier this time. You shifted slightly, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “You know… you’re really hard to read.”

Chishiya huffed softly. “Good.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s not what I meant.” You hesitated, fingers tapping lightly against your bag. “I just mean… you never talk about yourself. Not really.” You glanced at him again. “Why is that?”

He didn’t answer right away. His gaze drifted toward the dark store, eyes narrowing slightly as if he was watching for any sign of Niragi. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. “What’s the point?”

You blinked. “What?”

Chishiya tilted his head slightly, the moonlight catching in his hair. “Talking. Sharing. It doesn’t change anything.” He shrugged, gaze still fixed on the darkness. “People like to think it does. But it doesn’t.”

You frowned, hugging your bag tighter. “I don’t think that’s true.”

He scoffed softly. “Of course you don’t.”

You hesitated, chewing on your lip. “You shared with me once.”

That made him pause. His gaze flicked toward you, assessing. “Did I?”

You nodded slowly. “A while ago. You told me things.” You looked down at your hands. “I remember.”

Oh, he remembered that very well. One of his happiest memories in that miserable life of his, probably.

“That was a mistake.”

You blinked, surprised. “Why?”

He shrugged. “Because now you think you know me.”

You stared at him, heart sinking a little. “I don’t.” you said softly. “But… I’d like to.”

Chishiya turned toward you, eyes narrowing slightly, and for a moment, you thought he was going to say something cutting. But then he just stared at you, his expression unreadable, and the silence stretched long between you.

Finally, he sighed and leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. “You’re exhausting.”

You smiled faintly. “I get that a lot.”

For a long time, neither of you spoke. The darkness stretched around you, quiet and still, and the soft hum of the night filled the air. You glanced at Chishiya again, watching the way his chest rose and fell with each slow breath, the way his silver hair fell into his eyes. He looked almost peaceful. Almost.

“Thank you.” you whispered.

Chishiya’s eyes opened slowly, gaze flicking toward you. “For what?”

You shrugged, smiling softly. “For sitting with me.”

He stared at you for a long moment, eyes searching your face. Then he let out a soft huff and closed his eyes again, leaning his head back against the wall.

“Don’t mention it.” he muttered.

You shifted slightly, resting your chin on your knees, arms wrapped around your legs. The pavement was cold beneath you, but you didn’t mind. Chishiya stayed quiet at your side, eyes closed, breathing slow and even like the dark world around him didn’t exist.

You let yourself relax for a moment. The dizziness had faded a little. Or maybe you were just getting used to it. Either way, the night air felt cool against your skin, and the weight in your chest didn’t feel as heavy with Chishiya sitting next to you.

Then, in the distance, you heard footsteps. Heavy ones. Loud. Familiar.

You turned your head, watching as a shadow emerged from the darkness. Niragi. Aa plastic bag swinging from one hand, rifle slung over his shoulder. Even in the dim light, you could see the irritation painted across his face.

“Well, aren’t I just the fucking delivery boy.” he sneered, holding up the bag like it physically offended him. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

You blinked, surprised. “You actually found stuff?”

Niragi scoffed, dropping the bag into your lap with a loud crinkle. “Yeah. You think I’m useless or something?”

“No!” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I just… Thank you.” You smiled softly, fingers curling around the plastic handles. “Really.”

Niragi stared at you for a long moment, eyes dark and unreadable. Then he rolled them, muttering something under his breath as he dropped onto the pavement beside you, stretching his legs out with a huff.

You peeked inside the bag and felt a rush of relief at the sight of the food. You grabbed the water first, cracking the lid open and taking a long, slow sip, your throat burning with each swallow. God, that felt good.

Chishiya watched quietly as you started pulling things out of the bag, carefully tucking each item into your pink bag. You worked slowly, carefully fitting everything inside, fingers gentle, movements soft. Niragi just stared out into the night, rifle resting across his lap.

But you… you couldn’t stop talking.

“You know,” you began softly, glancing between the two of them. “you guys are really different.”

Niragi snorted. “No shit.”

You smiled faintly. “I just mean… you’re both quiet. But in different ways.” You glanced at Chishiya, who arched a brow. “You watch people. You’re careful. I feel like you’re always calculating something.”

Chishiya huffed softly. “Observing.”

“Right.” you said, nodding. “Observing.” You bit your lip, glancing at Niragi. “And you… you’re loud. Even when you’re quiet.”

Niragi shot you a look. “The fuck does that mean?”

You shrugged, carefully sliding a protein bar into the side pocket of your bag. “You fill the space around you. You’re… intense.” You hesitated, fingers fidgeting with the zipper of your bag. “But I don’t think that’s a bad thing.”

Niragi stared at you, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re weird.”

You laughed softly. “I get that a lot.”

You get a lot of things thrown at your head, Y/N.

The silence stretched again, but it didn’t feel so heavy this time. You sat quietly, tucking the last of the food into your bag before zipping it up and hugging it to your chest.

“Why do you care so much?” Chishiya asked suddenly.

You blinked, glancing at him. “What?”

Chishiya tilted his head. “Us. Why do you care?”

You stared at him for a moment, heart sinking a little. “Because… someone has to.”

Niragi scoffed. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

You smiled faintly. “Probably.” You glanced between them, heart softening a little.

Chishiya watched you quietly. Niragi just rolled his eyes and leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms cover his chest.

“Lucky us.” Niragi muttered.

You just smiled, hugging your bag tighter. The food inside felt like a tiny victory, even if Niragi had made a show of slamming the bag into your lap like it was some huge inconvenience.

You glanced between them—Niragi, lounging against the wall like the world bored him, his long legs stretched out and rifle balanced lazily across his lap. Chishiya, quiet and still, arms folded over his chest, eyes half-lidded like he was seconds away from falling asleep. They were so different, and yet… here they were. Both of them. With you.

A soft breath slipped past your lips, and you pushed yourself to your feet, brushing the dust from your clothes. Niragi tilted his head back to look up at you, brow furrowing slightly.

“What are you doing?”

You ignored him, shifting your bag over your shoulder and holding out a hand. “Come on.”

Niragi stared at you like you’d grown a second head. “What?”

“Let’s go.” You gestured vaguely at the empty street ahead of you. “We can’t just sit here all night.”

Niragi scoffed. “Why not? No one’s stopping us.”

You huffed softly, reaching down to grab his hand. He tensed beneath your touch, eyes narrowing, but you didn’t let go. His fingers curled instinctively around yours even as he scowled.

“Come on.” you said again, gentler this time. “Please?”

Niragi let out a long, dramatic sigh, but he stood, towering over you as he stretched his arms above his head. “You’re so fucking annoying.” he muttered.

You smiled softly. “I know.”

Chishiya watched the two of you quietly, his gaze flicking down to where your fingers curled around Niragi’s hand. He arched a brow, but said nothing.

“And you.” you said, turning toward him. “You’re not off the hook.”

Chishiya blinked, eyes narrowing slightly. “Hm?”

You grabbed his hand, fingers curling around his wrist, tugging gently. “Come on. You too.”

Chishiya didn’t move at first. He just sat there, staring at you like he was trying to figure out what the fuck your angle was. Then, with a soft sigh, he let you pull him to his feet. His fingers slipped into yours, cool and steady, the complete opposite of Niragi’s tense grip.

Satisfied, you started walking, dragging them along behind you. Niragi grumbled under his breath the entire time, but he didn’t pull away. Chishiya stayed quiet, his steps light and even, barely making a sound against the cracked pavement.

Eventually, you let their hands slip from yours, walking a few steps ahead. The night air felt lighter now, the tension easing from your shoulders with every step.

You glanced back at them, smiling softly. Niragi walked with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, scowling at the ground like it had personally offended him. Chishiya moved like a shadow, eyes half-lidded as he watched you from a few paces behind.

“You know,” you said softly, glancing over your shoulder. “I’m really glad I found you guys.”

Niragi scoffed. “Yeah, well. I didn’t fucking ask.”

You just smiled, turning your gaze back to the empty street ahead. For now, with their quiet footsteps trailing behind you and the weight of your cute pink bag against your back, you let yourself believe it’s good. That you’re fine.

~

Niragi was pissed off.

Not at you. God, never at you.

He watched you walk ahead, your pink bag bouncing softly against your back with every step, the gentle sway of your body almost hypnotic in the quiet night. Chishiya had moved further up the road, putting space between himself and the two of you—typical. The bastard never liked getting too close. Niragi didn’t care about him, though. Right now, his eyes were locked on you.

You were so fucking soft. Even after everything you’d seen, everything he’d done right in front of you, you still turned around to check on him. Still smiled at him like he was worth something. Like he wasn’t a monster.

It made him furious.

Because Niragi wasn��t stupid. He knew what he was.

Violent. Cruel. Twisted. He’d killed people. Laughed about it. Wallowed in the blood and the fire and the chaos of it all. This place it gave him permission to be the ugliest version of himself. And he liked it. He liked the way people flinched when they saw him. The way they shrank back from his smile and the glint of his rifle.

But you? You never shrank away.

You should have. After everything he did, after the man he killed right in front of you, you should’ve run as far and as fast as you could. Let’s not even talk about when they made you kill that guy. But instead, you stayed. Even when you flinched at his violence, even when your eyes welled up with tears and your hands shook, you stayed. You cried, but you didn’t leave. And when the tears stopped, you reached for him. Like he deserved your comfort. Like he deserved you.

It made him sick. It made him angry.

Not at you. Never at you.

At himself.

Because Niragi felt.

And he fucking hated it.

He hated the way his chest squeezed when you smiled at him, soft and sweet like a sunrise he didn’t deserve to see. He hated the way his hands ached to touch you, to feel your warmth, your softness, your kindness—things he’d never had and never would. He hated the way his body gravitated toward you.

He hated that you made him want to be better.

He shoved the thought down deep, scowling as he watched you walk ahead. You moved so easily, your steps light and soft even on the cracked pavement. Like you belonged anywhere but here. Like the darkness couldn’t touch you.

Niragi’s fists clenched.

You didn’t belong here. Not with him. Not with Chishiya. Not in this fucking place.

But you stayed anyway.

And it terrified him.

Because what the hell was he supposed to do with that? With you?

You shifted your bag higher on your shoulder, glancing back at him over your shoulder, eyes soft and warm even in the darkness. “You okay?” you asked softly.

Niragi stared at you.

Was he okay? No. Fuck no. He felt like he was being ripped apart from the inside out. His skin itched with the need to be closer to you and the instinct to push you so far away you’d never find your way back. His chest ached, tight and unfamiliar, like his ribs were trying to crush something too soft to survive. He wanted to scream. He wanted to laugh.

He wanted to fall to his knees and beg you to stay and shove you away in the same breath.

Instead, he shrugged. “Whatever.”

You frowned, biting your lip. God, you were so soft. So sweet. How the hell were you still here?

“Okay.” you said quietly. Then, as if you hadn’t just shattered him with a single word, you turned back around and kept walking.

Niragi let out a shaky breath, dragging a hand through his hair. He glanced up ahead, watching Chishiya’s quiet silhouette move further away. Niragi sneered. That smug bastard didn’t deserve you either.

But at least Chishiya didn’t pretend to be something he wasn’t.

Niragi… he didn’t know what the fuck he was doing anymore. All he knew was that he couldn’t let you go.

Even if it killed him.

He watched you like a predator, his eyes tracking your every move. You walked with that soft, steady grace, like the world hadn’t already tried to chew you up and spit you out a thousand times. Like you hadn’t just survived another game. There was something infuriating about it, about you. Even in the middle of this hellhole, with death around every corner, you still managed to be… light.

And Niragi hated it.

No—he hated that he needed it.

The world had stripped away every soft thing inside him, leaving behind a jagged, broken thing. People were weak. People were selfish. That’s what this place taught you. Kill or be killed. Hurt or be hurt. He’d chosen to be the one holding the gun, the one laughing while the world burned. That was the only way to survive.

But then you came along.

You with your kindness. Your softness. Your goddamn heart.

It made him sick. It made him angry. It made him feel.

And Niragi didn’t know what the fuck to do with that.

His eyes followed the gentle sway of your pink bag, the way your fingers curled around the strap like it held something precious. You always did that—treated everything with care. Even him. Especially him. After everything he’d done, after all the blood and violence, you still reached for him. Still forgave him.

Why?

What the fuck did you see in him?

You glanced over your shoulder, catching his eye. “You sure you’re okay?” you asked softly, the concern in your voice making his stomach twist.

Niragi scowled. “Why do you care?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Because I do.”

His jaw clenched. His fists curled. He wanted to scream. He wanted to grab you, shake you, make you understand what a stupid, dangerous thing it was to care about someone like him.

Instead, he just scoffed. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

You didn’t flinch. Didn’t shy away. You just smiled—soft, patient. “Maybe.”

Niragi stared at you, his chest tightening, his heart pounding against his ribs like a caged animal. He wanted to run. He wanted to stay. He wanted to rip himself open and shove every ugly part of himself into your hands just to see if you’d still look at him like that.

But he didn’t.

Because Niragi didn’t know how to be soft. He only knew how to destroy.

And the scariest part?

He was terrified that one day, he’d destroy you too.

His eyes drifted down to your hand.

You’d stretched it out toward him, soft and open, palm facing up. An invitation. A gentle offering. The pink strap of your bag slid down your shoulder as you turned toward him, slowing your pace to match his. Chishiya was still ahead, quiet and distant, but you… you were right here.

No one had ever held their hand out to him like this before.

He’d held hands before—sure. When he was a dumb fucking kid, he used to clutch his mom’s hand when they crossed the street. He could barely remember the feeling of it now, warm and soft.

School was no better. The only time anyone ever grabbed his hand was because they had to—stupid group projects or forced activities, holding hands in a circle like they actually wanted him there. He remembered the way they would barely touch him, just their fingertips ghosting against his skin like he was diseased.

And the girls at the Beach? They’d touched him, sure. In bed, their hands tangled in his hair, nails scraping down his back. But even that wasn’t real. They were drunk on fear or power or the sick rush of survival, just like everyone else. Their hands never lingered. Never stayed.

But this?

This was different.

You were different.

You held your hand out to him like you actually wanted him to take it. No fear. No obligation. Just warmth. Just you.

Niragi stared at your hand, his breath catching in his throat. He felt frozen, like if he moved too quickly, the moment would shatter and you’d slip away. His fingers twitched in his pocket, itching to reach out, to feel the softness of your skin against his own.

But he didn’t deserve it.

Not after everything he’d done. Not after the blood on his hands and the violence in his heart. You shouldn’t be reaching for him. You should be running from him.

But you didn’t.

You just waited, patient and soft, your fingers curling slightly like you were coaxing him closer. “It’s okay.” you said softly, your voice gentle in the quiet night. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Fuck.

He felt his heart lurch, something sharp and unfamiliar twisting in his chest. It hurt. God, it hurt.

Before he could stop himself, Niragi’s hand slipped from his pocket. Slowly—so slowly—he reached out, his fingers brushing against yours. You didn’t flinch. You didn’t pull away. You just curled your hand around his, squeezing softly.

Niragi swallowed thickly, his palm pressing against yours. Your hand was so much smaller, so much softer. You just held on.

And Niragi?

He held on too.

His fingers tightened around yours, his grip almost too firm, like if he let go, you’d disappear. His heart pounded in his chest, loud and heavy, and he clenched his jaw, staring straight ahead like it didn’t mean anything. Like his entire world hadn’t just tilted on its axis because of you and your stupid soft hands.

You smiled softly, giving his hand another gentle squeeze. “See? Not so bad.”

Niragi scoffed, looking away. “You’re so fucking annoying.”

But he didn’t let go.

Not even once.

Niragi never meant to get attached.

That wasn’t who he was. Attachments made you weak. They gave people leverage. Made you soft. The borderlands didn’t have room for softness. It was a place where kindness got you killed and love was just another kind of weakness.

But then there was you.

You, with your soft hands and your stupid pink bag, walking with him like you didn’t have a single fear in the world. As if this hellhole wasn’t breathing down your neck every second of the day. As if monsters like him didn’t exist. Or maybe you knew they did and just… didn’t care.

That was the worst part. You knew. You saw what he was capable of. The violence. The cruelty. You’d watched him kill a man without blinking. You’d seen the blood on his hands, the gleam in his eyes when he pulled the trigger. You should’ve run. You should’ve screamed. You should’ve hated him.

But you didn’t.

You stayed.

And worse—you cared.

You were so fucking soft, always checking on him, always offering little smiles like they could melt the darkness inside him. Like you saw something in him worth saving. It pissed him off. It made his skin crawl. It made him want.

Want what? He didn’t know.

At least… he didn’t at first.

The more time he spent with you, the harder it became to ignore. The way his eyes always found you first. The way his chest felt tight whenever you strayed too far from his side. The way his fingers twitched, itching to grab your hand again, to feel your warmth, to make sure you were real.

And god, the way you smiled.

That was the worst part. The way you smiled at him like he was worth something. Like he wasn’t a monster. He hated it. He needed it.

Every time you looked at him like that, something inside him cracked open, raw and bleeding. It felt like standing too close to a fire, the heat licking at his skin, burning through his defenses. He wanted to shove you away. He wanted to pull you closer. He wanted to tear himself open and shove every ugly, broken part of himself into your hands just to see if you’d still smile at him.

He hated you for it.

No—not you. Never you.

He hated himself.

Because Niragi was selfish. He knew that. He’d always been selfish. He took what he wanted, consequences be damned. And right now? He wanted you.

But he didn’t deserve you.

He knew that too.

It didn’t stop him from watching you, his dark eyes tracing the curve of your neck, the soft sway of your hips, the gentle rise and fall of your shoulders with every breath. You moved like you didn’t belong here, light and soft, like the darkness couldn’t touch you. Like he couldn’t touch you.

And maybe he shouldn’t.

But god, he wanted to.

He wanted to grab you, to press you up against the nearest wall and feel you breathe beneath him. To drag his hands over every soft inch of you and burn the memory of your warmth into his skin. To hold you close, closer than anyone ever had, and never let go.

But more than that…

He wanted to keep you safe.

That was the part that scared him the most.

Because Niragi didn’t care about people. People were weak. People were selfish. People betrayed you the second you let your guard down. That was the first lesson the world taught him—the only lesson that mattered.

But you weren’t like them.

You were soft. And sweet. And you cared. About him. About Chishiya. About people who didn’t deserve it. People who would break you if you let them.

And Niragi hated the idea of anyone breaking you.

Anyone but him.

He clenched his jaw, his grip tightening on his rifle. His gaze burned into the back of your head as you walked ahead of him, still holding his hand, practically dragging him along, your soft hum drifting back on the breeze. Chishiya was still ahead, quiet and distant, always watching. Always judging. Niragi sneered. Fucking bastard. Always acting like he was better than everyone else.

But even Chishiya wasn’t immune to you. Niragi saw the way his eyes lingered on you, the way his posture softened ever so slightly whenever you smiled at him. It made Niragi’s blood boil. Not because Chishiya cared. No—Niragi didn’t give a fuck about that.

What pissed him off was that Chishiya let you get close.

Because the second you got close? That was when you got hurt.

And Niragi… he wasn’t sure what he’d do if someone hurt you.

No. That wasn’t true. He knew exactly what he’d do.

He’d kill them. Slowly. Painfully. And he’d enjoy every second of it.

Because Niragi was a monster.

But even monsters could love.

His fingers curled tighter around yours, his grip almost too firm. You didn’t pull away—you never did—but your thumb brushed softly over his knuckles, easing the tension. It was a soft, absentminded thing. Maybe you didn’t even realize you were doing it. But he did.

He noticed everything about you.

The softness of your skin against his, delicate and smooth, like you’d never had to fight for your life. The way your pinky finger rested against his, warm and gentle, like you belonged there. The faint scent of whatever soap you had at the apartment, sweet and floral, clinging to you even now.

It made his chest ache.

Niragi kept his eyes straight ahead, scowling into the darkness, trying to ignore the way his pulse quickened every time you squeezed his hand. The street stretched out before you, cracked and quiet.

All Niragi could feel was you.

It was stupid. He’d touched you before. A lot, actually. We know that. You were soft like that—always reaching for him, always offering your warmth without a second thought. It made his skin itch, made his heart pound, made him want to rip himself open just to see if he was even capable of feeling anything good anymore.

But tonight felt different.

Maybe it was the quiet. Or the darkness. Or the fact that you’d almost passed out earlier, too dizzy and tired to keep going, your body finally giving out after god knows how long without eating. He’d never admit it—not even to himself—but it had scared the shit out of him.

You weren’t supposed to be weak. You weren’t supposed to break.

But you did.

And Niragi realized something, walking there watching you sway on your feet, eyes fluttering closed while you clutched at your stupid little pink bag.

He cared.

Not just about keeping you alive. Not just about having you close.

He cared about you.

The thought made him feel sick.

Because Niragi didn’t care about people. They used you, then threw you away the second you stopped being useful. That was the first thing he learned growing up—the first thing that shaped him into the man he was now. He’d been nothing to everyone his whole life, and when the Borderlands came, it finally gave him permission to be the monster they always said he was.

But you…

You made him want to be something else.

He glanced down at your hands, the way your fingers tangled with his, soft and trusting, like he wasn’t capable of snapping them in half with a single squeeze.

God, you were so fucking stupid.

But he liked it.

He liked the way you hummed softly under your breath when the silence stretched too long, a quiet little melody that barely reached his ears. He liked the way you squeezed his hand when the darkness pressed in too tightly, as if he was the only thing keeping you tethered to the world. He liked the way you smiled at him, soft and patient, like you weren’t terrified of what he might do.

And fuck, maybe the worst part was that you weren’t scared.

Not of him. Not really.

You’d seen him kill. You’d seen him laugh while the blood pooled beneath his feet. You’d seen the worst parts of him, and still—still—you reached for him. You forgave him.

Why?

What the fuck did you see in him?

Niragi clenched his jaw, his free hand tightening around his rifle. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve you. He was a killer. A monster. The kind of man who burned things down just to watch the flames. He’d taken lives. He’d laughed while people screamed. He’d reveled in the chaos and destruction of it all.

But here you were.

Holding his hand.

Soft. Gentle. Kind. Everything he wasn’t.

Everything he wanted.

His fingers squeezed yours tighter, almost desperate, like he could hold onto this feeling—hold onto you—and never let go. You didn’t pull away. You just squeezed back, your thumb brushing over his skin again, soft and patient. Like you were telling him it was okay.

Niragi felt something crack inside him.

It was small, barely noticeable, but it was there. A tiny sliver of warmth, burning beneath his ribs, curling around his heart. It was uncomfortable. It was terrifying. It was everything.

And for the first time in his miserable fucking life, Niragi realized he wasn’t scared of dying.

He was scared of losing you.

His grip on your hand tightened, almost bruising, but you didn’t flinch. You just turned to him, eyes soft, a quiet smile tugging at your lips. “Still okay?” you asked softly.

Niragi stared at you.

No. He wasn’t okay. He was fucking falling apart.

But he just scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You ask too many questions.”

You laughed softly, squeezing his hand again. “You never answer them.”

He didn’t. He wouldn’t. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

But still, he held your hand a little tighter.

It was nothing.

It had to be.

Niragi told himself that over and over again, the words pounding in his skull like a drum. It was fucking nothing. You were just soft. Soft people did soft things. That’s all it was.

It was nothing when you brushed the hair from his face back at the apartment, your fingertips gliding over his skin like he wasn’t a fucking monster.

It was nothing when you tied his hair up for him, gentle and patient, your fingers carding through the strands like you actually gave a shit.

It was nothing when you sat close to him on the couch, your shoulder pressed against his, your warmth bleeding into him.

It was nothing when you leaned your head on his shoulder, soft and sleepy, like he was something safe.

It was nothing when you pressed your little pink bag into his chest some of these days and asked him to hold it while you fixed your shoes. When you giggled because it looked ridiculous, this big, dangerous man holding your delicate little things. When you thanked him after, like it actually meant something.

It was nothing when you cried after he killed that man and still let him wipe your tears away. When you leaned into him, small and shaking, while he whispered quiet, cruel things into your ear, his hand stroking your hair. When you let him carry you after, your soft little body in his arms, trusting him not to drop you, not to hurt you.

It was nothing when you slept in his arms, soft breaths ghosting over his neck, your fingers curling into his shirt. When he stayed awake the whole night, walking, then sitting down, feeling the rise and fall of your body with every breath.

It was nothing when you turned to him just now, holding out your hand, soft and open, and waited for him to take it. When you squeezed his fingers and smiled like it was the most natural thing in the world. When you asked if he was okay, like you actually cared.

It was nothing.

But then why did it feel like he was fucking burning?

Niragi’s grip on your hand tightened, his nails digging into your skin. You winced slightly but didn’t pull away. Of course you didn’t. You never did.

You were so fucking stupid.

Didn’t you know what he was?

Didn’t you understand what he could do to you?

He could crush your hand in his, snap your fingers one by one just to hear you scream. He could shove you against the nearest wall, pin you there, and take whatever softness you kept offering him, whether you wanted to give it or not. He could kill you. Right here. Right now. Just because he could.

But he wouldn’t.

Because you’d ruined him.

He clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth so hard his head ached. His heart pounded in his chest, heavy and loud, drowning out everything but the sound of your soft breaths. His skin burned where you touched him, his body screaming for more. More of your warmth. More of your softness. More of you.

He hated it.

He hated you.

He hated himself more.

Because he wasn’t supposed to feel like this. He wasn’t supposed to care. This world didn’t have room for feelings. Feelings made you weak. Attachments got you killed. He’d learned that lesson a long time ago, and he’d thrived on it. He’d burned every soft part of himself down to ash, replaced it with violence and cruelty and fire.

But you…

You made him want to feel.

He squeezed his eyes shut, his breath ragged, trying to shove the feeling down. Trying to drown it in the darkness. But it clawed its way back up, sharp and relentless, cutting through him like a fucking knife.

Because the truth was, he wanted you.

He wanted to feel your soft hands on his skin. He wanted to bury his face in your neck and breathe you in. He wanted to hear you say his name—soft and sweet, like a prayer—while he carved himself into every inch of you.

But more than that…

He wanted to keep you.

Niragi didn’t know how to love. All he knew was how to take. How to destroy. How to burn everything he touched to the ground.

And if he kept you… if he let himself have you…

He would ruin you.

Just like he ruined everything else.

Still, he held your hand a little tighter.

And you let him.

It wasn’t enough.

Your hand in his—soft, small, trusting—it wasn’t fucking enough.

Niragi’s grip tightened, his nails biting into your skin, but you didn’t pull away. You never did. You just kept walking, soft little fingers tangled with his, humming some quiet song under your breath. Like you weren’t walking beside someone who’d killed for less than a wrong look.

Like you weren’t inches away from being ripped apart.

Because that’s what he wanted to do.

Tear you open. Rip you apart. Crawl inside and make a home of you.

His blood burned hot beneath his skin, boiling over into something dark and messy, something he could barely choke down. He was never good at choking things down—never good at holding himself back. Not when he wanted something. Not when it burned through him like this, heavy and suffocating, curling around his throat and squeezing until he could barely fucking breathe.

And god, he wanted you.

He wanted you soft and begging underneath him. Wanted to bruise your sweet little skin with his teeth, his fingers, his everything. He wanted to shove you against the nearest wall and make you feel every inch of him, wanted to hear you gasp and whimper and cry for him. He wanted to ruin you.

But it wasn’t just that.

That was the problem.

If it was only that, he could handle it. He could fuck you and forget you, break you open and leave you behind like he had with every other fragile little thing that crossed his path. He could burn through you and walk away without a second thought.

But this? This was worse.

Because he didn’t just want to fuck you. He wanted to keep you.

He wanted to shove you behind him whenever danger came too close. Wanted to feel your soft little fingers in his hair, tying it back like you did that day in the apartment, soft and patient, like you actually liked taking care of him. Wanted to wrap his arms around you at night and feel your heartbeat against his chest, soft and steady, reminding him that you were still alive.

He wanted to be the only one who got to see you like this—soft and sweet and trusting. He wanted to be the only one you reached for when the darkness pressed in too close. The only one who got to hear your little giggles, your quiet hums, your soft breaths in the dead of night.

He wanted to lock you away. Keep you hidden. Protected. Safe.

His.

His jaw clenched, his body tight with something dark and ugly. He shouldn’t feel like this. He shouldn’t want like this. It wasn’t normal. Wasn’t right.

But Niragi had never been normal. And he sure as hell had never been right.

He was ruined. Rotten. A monster dressed in human skin.

And you… you were an angel.

Soft and sweet and his. Even if you didn’t know it yet. Even if you never would.

He squeezed your hand, dragging you closer, and you stumbled slightly, looking up at him with wide, questioning eyes. He ignored you, his jaw tight, his heart pounding in his chest, heavy and suffocating, making it hard to breathe.

You should run.

You should be scared.

You should have never reached for him in the first place.

But you didn’t run. You didn’t pull away. You just squeezed his hand back, soft and patient, like you were comforting him.

And god, that was the worst part.

Because Niragi didn’t deserve comfort. Didn’t deserve kindness. Didn’t deserve you.

But that didn’t mean he was going to let you go.

No.

You were his now.

And he’d burn the whole fucking world down to keep you.

Your yawn was soft. Barely more than a little breath, muffled against the back of your hand. But Niragi heard it. Of course, he heard it. He heard everything when it came to you. The soft scuff of your shoes against the pavement. The quiet little hum you made when you stretched. The gentle sigh that slipped from your lips when you looked up at the stars, eyes soft and distant, as if the sky held some kind of answer you were searching for.

It made him sick.

You yawned again, rubbing at your eyes with the back of your hand, soft and sleepy. Then you turned to him, blinking slowly, your lips parted, voice soft and sweet. “Aren’t you tired?” you asked quietly, concern flickering across your face. “You’ve been walking all day… maybe we should stop soon.”

You were worried about him.

Him.

Niragi swallowed thickly, his throat tight. His fingers curled tighter around yours, his breath ragged, his body taut like a live wire.

Tired?

No. He wasn’t fucking tired. How could he be tired when you looked at him like that? When you spoke to him like that? When you touched him like this, soft and trusting, like you didn’t know you were dancing with a monster?

Tired?

No. He was burning.

He wanted to shove you up against something and watch the fear bloom in your eyes. Wanted to press his body against yours, trap you there, feel every soft inch of you against him. He wanted to hear you gasp—soft and breathless—as he dragged his teeth along your throat. Wanted to feel your pulse flutter against his tongue. Wanted to mark you. Bruise you. Own you.

He wanted to rip that stupid little pink bag from your hands and watch it fall to the ground, forgotten. Wanted to slip his fingers into your hair, tugging hard, tilting your head back so you had no choice but to look at him. No choice but to see him. To see what you’d done to him.

He wanted to feel your breath hitch when he leaned in, close enough to taste you. Wanted to feel the way your body trembled beneath his touch—whether from fear or something darker, he didn’t fucking care. He wanted to drag his tongue over your pulse, slow and deliberate, feeling the way it pounded beneath your skin. He wanted to sink his teeth into your throat, hard enough to make you cry out.

He wanted to tear you apart.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

Piece by fucking piece.

But more than that…

He wanted to hold you after. Wanted to feel the weight of you in his arms, soft and spent, trusting him to keep you safe. He wanted to run his fingers through your hair, soft and slow, while you drifted off against him. Wanted to feel your breath against his skin, soft and steady, a quiet reminder that you were still alive. Still his.

He wanted to keep you.

Niragi didn’t keep things. Niragi destroyed things. He burned them down. Tore them apart. Left them broken and bleeding in his wake.

But you…

You just looked up at him, soft and trusting, your eyes gentle, your lips parted. “Niragi?” you asked softly. “Are you okay?”

He laughed.

Low. Bitter. Broken.

No. He wasn’t okay. He was fucking ruined.

“Fine.”

You just squeezed his hand again, soft and patient, and kept walking.

Niragi let you.

It hit him like a bullet to the chest.

He wanted you.

Not in the fleeting, careless way he’d wanted things before—not like a cigarette between his lips, burned down to the filter and flicked away without a second thought. Not like the random girls at the Beach, faceless and nameless, used to fill the void for a few desperate moments before he shoved them off and left them behind.

No. This was different. This was worse.

He wanted you in a way that scraped at the inside of his skull and twisted something dark and ugly in his chest. It made his skin feel too tight, his throat dry, his body heavy with a need he couldn’t even begin to name.

He wanted you. So fucking bad.

He wanted to wrap his hands around your waist and pull you close, feel the soft press of your body against his. Wanted to bury his face in your neck, breathe you in, drown himself in your warmth until he couldn’t tell where you ended and he began.

He wanted to pin you beneath him, feel you squirm, hear you whimper his name in that soft little voice of yours. Wanted to drag his teeth over your skin, taste you, mark you, ruin you. Wanted to see you fall apart under his hands, wanted to watch the way your body trembled for him, wanted to hear the sweet little sounds you’d make when he finally, finally took you.

But it wasn’t just that.

That would have been easy. That he could handle.

What made it worse—what made it unbearable—was that he wanted more.

He wanted you pressed up against his side, soft and sleepy, your head resting on his chest while his fingers tangled lazily in your hair. Wanted to hear your quiet breaths, steady and soft, lulling him to sleep. Wanted to wake up with you curled against him, your body warm and soft and his.

He wanted to hear you laugh. Wanted to see the way your nose scrunched up when you smiled, wanted to be the reason for it. Wanted to hear you say his name—not in fear, not in pain, but soft and gentle, like a secret just for him.

He wanted to protect you. Keep you safe. Keep you his.

The realization made his stomach twist, his jaw clenching so tight it ached. His hand tightened around yours, but you didn’t flinch.

You shouldn’t be anywhere near him. He was a fucking monster. A killer. A creature made of violence and rage and blood. He’d burned away every soft part of himself a long time ago, torn out anything that even resembled kindness and left it to rot in the dirt.

But then you came along.

Soft and sweet.

You smiled at him. Talked to him. Touched him.

You held his hand like it meant something.

He fucking liked it.

It made him want things. Soft things. Stupid things. Impossible things.

It made him want you. Want want you.

His grip on your hand tightened, almost painful now, but you just squeezed his fingers softly, your warmth bleeding into his skin.

He wasn’t okay. He was fucked. Completely, utterly fucked.

Because he wanted you.

More than he’d ever wanted anything in his entire goddamn life.

And he was going to have you.

One way or another.

~

Acceptance came easy to Niragi.

Why wouldn’t it?

He wanted you. He accepted it.

There. Simple. Done.

What was the point in denying it? In pretending he didn’t want to sink his teeth into your soft little neck, mark you up, make sure every inch of you knew you were his? What was the point in fighting the way his fingers twitched with the urge to brush the hair from your face, the way his chest burned whenever you looked at him like he wasn’t a fucking monster?

No. Niragi never ran from what he wanted. He took it. Claimed it. Burned everything down until it was his and only his.

So yeah, he accepted it.

He wanted you. Badly. Madly. Completely.

And now, as you walked beside him, your small hand curled in his like it belonged there, your head drooping a little with exhaustion after walking all night, Niragi didn’t even hesitate.

The whistle ripped from his lips—sharp and loud, echoing off the empty buildings around you—and Chishiya’s steps slowed ahead of you, his shoulders tensing. He turned, shooting Niragi a flat, unimpressed look.

Niragi grinned. God, he lived to piss that little bastard off.

“What?” Chishiya drawled, voice dry, bored, already annoyed.

Niragi tugged on your hand, pulling you gently toward the curb. “She needs to sit.”

You blinked up at him, surprised. “I’m fine—”

“Sit.” His voice was firm, brooking no argument, and your eyes softened at the sound of it. Slowly, you lowered yourself onto the curb, pulling your pink bag into your lap, and Niragi crouched beside you, his long legs folding easily, his arm resting over his knee.

Chishiya stared at the two of you, his expression unreadable, his gaze flickering briefly to you before landing back on Niragi. “Oh? Since when do you care?”

Niragi rolled his eyes. “Since it’s my fucking problem if she collapses, genius.”

Chishiya scoffed softly, crossing his arms over his chest, eyes narrowing. “She wouldn’t be collapsing if you let her sleep.”

“And she wouldn’t be alive if I wasn’t around to keep her safe.” Niragi shot back. “So how about you shut the fuck up and let me handle it?”

Chishiya stared at him for a long moment, the air tense, electric, and Niragi could see it—the irritation bubbling just beneath Chishiya’s calm facade. It made his blood sing.

But then Chishiya’s gaze flickered back to you, soft and sweet, curled up on the curb, your head resting against your knees, your eyes half-closed with exhaustion, and something flickered behind his eyes. Something dark. Something possessive.

Niragi’s grin slipped.

That was his look.

His hand twitched, fingers curling into a fist. He wanted to grab Chishiya by the throat, slam him into the pavement, tear that bored little smirk off his face. He wanted to make sure Chishiya never looked at you like that again.

But then you sighed softly, leaning your head against his shoulder, your warmth seeping into his skin, and just like that, the rage melted away.

He glanced down at you, his breath catching in his throat. God, you were so fucking soft. So warm. It made something inside him twist, tight and painful, burning hot.

Chishiya could watch all he wanted. It didn’t fucking matter.

Because you were here. With him.

And Niragi would tear the whole fucking world apart before he ever let that change.

He was not scared.

No. Absolutely not. Scared was for weaklings. For soft, pathetic little things that cowered in the corner and hoped the world would spare them. Niragi wasn’t scared. Niragi made people scared. He was the monster in the dark, the gun against your skull, the last laugh you’d ever hear before the world went black. He wasn’t scared. He didn’t get scared.

Except… well.

Okay, maybe there was this one thing. One teeny, tiny thing. And by thing, he meant you.

But that didn’t count. That was different.

He just… He didn’t want to fuck it up, okay? That’s all. No big deal.

You were warm. Soft. Sweet. Everything he’d never had. And now you were here, sitting next to him, leaning your tired little head against his shoulder, trusting him like he was something good—and for once in his miserable fucking life, he had something to lose.

And that? Yeah. That made his stomach twist in a way he didn’t want to think about.

So no, he wasn’t scared. He was just… cautious. Smart. Calculating. Yeah. That.

Because what if you said no? What if you looked up at him with those soft eyes of yours, and there was fear there? Or worse—pity. Like you felt sorry for him. As if he was some kind of pathetic little stray you’d picked up off the street. As if the twisted, ugly thing inside him could be fixed.

And what the hell would he do then?

Niragi tightened his grip on his knees, his jaw clenching. No. No way. He wasn’t scared. He just wasn’t a fucking idiot. That was all. He’d bide his time. Play it smart. No need to rush. You were already here.

Meanwhile, Chishiya—fucking Chishiya—just stood there. Staring. Like the smug little bastard he was.

Oh, Niragi knew Chishiya was watching him. Always watching. Niragi could practically feel his eyes boring into the side of his head. And sure, it could’ve been another one of Niragi’s little mood swings—god knew he had plenty of those—but no. This was different. Chishiya knew better.

Chishiya was smart. Annoyingly smart. The kind of smart that made Niragi want to bash his head in with the nearest blunt object. And right now, Niragi could practically hear the little gears turning in that pretty head of his. Trying to figure him out.

Yeah, good luck with that, asshole.

Chishiya shifted slightly, crossing his arms over his chest, his gaze flicking between the two of you. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. Niragi could feel the judgment radiating off him in waves.

If Niragi had a bullet, it’d be in Chishiya’s head right about now.

Yeah, the asshole wasted all of them.

But you? Oh, you had no idea.

You just sat there, half-dead, blinking sleepily at the empty street like the world’s saddest little creature. Niragi glanced down at you, his scowl softening. Christ. You looked pathetic. And adorable. And pathetic. Like a wet kitten that had been left out in the rain. All droopy eyes and soft little sighs.

Niragi shifted slightly, his arm pressing against yours. You didn’t even react. Just blinked slowly, like you were seconds from passing out, your pink bag clutched tightly in your lap. God, you were so fucking cute it made him sick.

“You okay?” Niragi asked, his voice low and rough.

You blinked up at him, your eyes glassy with exhaustion. “Mm. Yeah. Just… tired.” You yawned, rubbing at your eyes with the back of your hand. “Bleh.”

Bleh.

Niragi almost laughed. Jesus. You were ridiculous.

But then you shifted closer, rubbing your head against his shoulder, Niragi felt his chest tighten. Slowly, carefully, he turned his head, resting his chin against the top of your head. You didn’t pull away. You never pulled away.

And that? That was almost worse than if you did.

Because it made him want. God, he wanted. Wanted to pull you into his lap and hold you there, feel every soft inch of you pressed against him. Wanted to bury his face in your hair and just… breathe. Wanted to tell you that you were his. That he’d kill for you. Burn the whole fucking world down for you.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Not yet.

Instead, he just sat there. Quiet. Still. His arm brushing against yours, his fingers curling into his palm, his breath slow and steady.

And Chishiya? Oh, Chishiya saw everything.

Niragi could feel his gaze. But Chishiya didn’t say a word. Just stood there. Watching. Waiting. Judging.

Niragi squeezed his eyes shut, his jaw tight, his heart pounding in his chest.

Not scared. Not scared. Not scared.

Just… waiting.

Because eventually, you’d see.

Eventually, you’d understand.

You were his.

And one way or another… he was going to make sure you never forgot it.

But the pavement was cold. Not that you minded much. It was kind of nice, actually. Cool against your legs, the rough texture digging into your skin through the fabric of your pants.

You blinked slowly, your eyes half-lidded, watching the empty street in front of you. The buildings stretched up into the sky, dark and quiet, their windows hollow and empty. Everything felt still. Silent. Like the world was holding its breath.

You sighed, your head tipping slightly forward, not partly resting on Niragi’s collarbone, too. He was warm. Really warm. Almost too warm, but you didn’t care. You leaned into him, your body soft and pliant, your eyelids fluttering shut for a moment before you forced them open again.

“How come we’re not there yet?” you mumbled, your voice soft and slurred, like you were half-asleep. “Shouldn’t we be there by now?”

Niragi shifted beside you, his body tensing slightly, but you barely noticed.

“We’ll get there when we get there.” he muttered, his voice low.

You blinked slowly, trying to process that. It felt like you’d been walking forever. Was the Beach even real? Or was it just some stupid dream? Some distant promise you’d all made up to keep yourselves moving?

You sighed again, your fingers curling into the fabric of your bag, holding it tightly against your chest. Your whole body ached, your legs heavy and sluggish, your eyes burning with exhaustion.

You just wanted to sleep. Right here. On the cold pavement. It wouldn’t be so bad.

Chishiya stood a few steps away, his arms crossed over his chest. He watched you quietly, his eyes flickering between you and Niragi, taking in the way you leaned against him, the soft rise and fall of your chest, the slow, steady blinks that meant you were seconds away from passing out.

“We should stop for the night.” Chishiya said softly. “She’s tired.”

Niragi scoffed. “No shit, genius.” His arm shifted slightly, pressing against yours. “She’ll be fine.”

“I’m not fine.” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m tired.”

Niragi sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You’ll live.”

You pouted, your brow furrowing. “But I’m tired.”

Niragi rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath, but you didn’t catch it. You were already slipping further into sleep, your body growing heavier, your head resting more firmly against his shoulder.

Chishiya could see the way Niragi’s jaw clenched, the way his fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for you, the way his body tensed every time you shifted against him.

“Just let her sleep.” Chishiya said quietly.

Niragi scowled. “Mind your own business.”

Chishiya raised a brow, but said nothing.

The silence stretched out, heavy and tense, the only sound your soft, steady breaths.

“Fine.” Niragi muttered. “We’ll stay.”

Chishiya smirked. “Good choice.”

Niragi glared at him, but said nothing.

Instead, he shifted slightly, pulling you closer, his arm wrapping around your shoulders, holding you against him.

Niragi hated him.

God, he fucking hated him.

Every little thing about Chishiya made his skin crawl. The way he stood there, all quiet and smug, like he had it all figured out. Like he was some fuckass puppet master, sitting back and watching while everyone danced on his little strings. It made Niragi’s fingers itch for the rifle next to him on the ground. It made him want to hurt something.

But the worst part? The thing that really twisted the knife?

It was the way you looked at him.

Even now—half-asleep, head resting against Niragi’s shoulder, body soft in his arms—you still glanced at Chishiya. Still checked for him. Niragi could see it in the soft flutter of your lashes, the subtle tilt of your head, the way your gaze flicked over to that quiet fucker.

And Chishiya? Oh, he saw it too.

That was the thing about Chishiya. He didn’t have to say a damn word, and Niragi could still hear the condescension, loud and clear. It was in the slight raise of his brow, the curve of his lips—just shy of a smirk. Like he knew exactly what Niragi was thinking. Like he knew exactly what Niragi wanted.

Because of course he fucking did. Chishiya was smart. Too smart. He saw everything. Saw the way Niragi’s grip on you tightened, the way his thumb brushed slowly over your arm, the way his body angled towards yours, like you were something to be shielded.

Chishiya wasn’t threatened.

He didn’t need to be.

It drove Niragi insane.

And what drove him even more insane was the fact that you never seemed to notice.

You sat there, pressed against Niragi’s side, your body soft and sweet and warm, and Niragi wanted to wrap you up in his arms and never let go.

But that wasn’t all he wanted. No. Niragi was twisted. Fucked up beyond repair. He wanted to mark you. Ruin you. Make sure that every time you closed your eyes, it was him you saw. Not Chishiya. Not anyone else. Just him.

And yet—for all his fire, for all his rage—he still held back.

Because for the first time in his miserable fucking life… he was afraid.

Not that he’d ever admit it. Not even to himself. But it was there, festering in the pit of his stomach. The fear that if he pushed too hard, too fast, you’d slip through his fingers. That you’d look at him the way everyone else did. With fear. With disgust.

So instead, he just sat there. Silent. Tense. His arm wrapped around you, holding you close, his jaw clenched so tight it hurt.

Chishiya understood.

No, he didn’t want to understand. He wasn’t supposed to care about things like this. Not anymore.

But then you showed up.

Soft. Sweet. Open. An anomaly in this fucked up world. And somehow, without even trying, you wormed your way under his skin.

You were quiet. Gentle. So goddamn kind it made his teeth ache. And Chishiya hated himself for it, but there were nights—long, sleepless nights—where he’d lie awake and wonder what it would be like to touch you. To have your hands on him, soft and warm, tracing over the angles of his ribs. To feel you curl against his side, sleepy and trusting. To have you.

And Niragi? Niragi wanted the same thing.

That’s what made Chishiya’s blood boil. Not that Niragi wanted you. But that Niragi got to hold you. That Niragi got to touch you. While Chishiya stood there, silent and still, watching from the shadows.

He could see it, clear as day. The way Niragi looked at you. Like you were something holy. Something to be worshiped. Something to be owned.

Chishiya wanted to tear his fucking throat out.

But he didn’t. He just stood there, arms crossed, gaze flicking between the two of you.

Because that was the difference between them.

Niragi burned hot. Chishiya stayed cold.

But they both wanted you.

(AN: Listening to The Red Means I Love You while writing the part where Niragi holds ur hand is an otherworldly experience I’m FLOATING) (Next song on the playlist, ONLY LOVE CAN HURT LIKE THIIIIS) (writing these as I’m writing the story itself, I’ll put it at the end of the post later) (ily) (the playlist I have for the fic is insane)

❤︎︎ @lizntstoptalking @cherryheairt @fiction-fantasy-folks @monkey4lifer @psychicyouthfox @so-dramatic1 @mypsychoticlove @unhinged-sorcerer @rattymess @mocchii-writes @adanfore @scarlet703 @fluentgoddess @maxinehufflepuffprincess @onyxmango @bluerthanvelvet444 @risingofjupiter @enhasrii @potato-vagina @cherryyserenade @l5byrinth

[junelovesaz]

Unspoken words

Note: Hey loves! I'm sorry for disappearing again, I was on vacation, and I'm terrible at managing my time. I finished my first semester at university and have started the second one (send help, please 💀), so all the accumulated stress made me want to write. Thank you for taking the time to read this! 💙💙 I'm sorry if it's a mess, but I hope it entertains you a bit! I've discovered that I enjoy writing angst, so I think that's my path.

P.S.: Azriel will always make me sigh, but I admit that Cassian is my favorite bat boy, so I'll include him everywhere.

Anyway, I love you all!💙💙 Every like and reblog is appreciated! Just a reminder that English isn't my first language, so if there's any mistake, don't hesitate to tell me!

Words: 1k+

Warnings: None, just angst

Summary: The reader saw at the family dinner how Azriel and Elain worked together. It made something inside her stir, and the feelings she had been hiding became painfully unbearable.

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

For the Mother.

It was the only thought that came to mind before I dodged Cassian's blow. My reflexes definitely weren't at their best today, and we both knew it. So, I just rolled my eyes at the smug smile on Cassian's face.

I had slept less than three hours because every time I closed my eyes, the image I so desperately wanted to get out of my mind was the only thing I saw. So, I had tossed and turned in bed until dawn, which is why my body was so exhausted and dodging blows felt like torture. I wasn't even trying to attack him, just to hold my ground. That's how pathetic I was being today.

I didn't even anticipate Cassian's move until I felt his legs sweeping mine out from under me, and my back hit the ground. I gasped as the air left my lungs and let out a groan from the impact.

"What the hell is wrong with you today?" I heard his voice ask before his wings spread out above me, shielding my eyes from the direct sunlight.

I sighed, exhausted, and gave up, stretching my arms out and relaxing my muscles. He just crossed his arms and looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

"Since when are you so bad at fighting?"

I huffed and pulled my limbs in until I was sitting up. "Don't feed your ego too much. I'm just not having a good day."

I felt him scrutinize me with his eyes, narrowing them before he sighed and dropped his body next to mine.

"What's going on?" he asked softly, even his hazel eyes had turned gentler.

I could tell him, I knew I could, just as I knew he would keep quiet. But verbalizing what I felt, how I felt, would make everything more real.

"It's nothing. It's just my head, you know" I lied, downplaying it.

Cassian stayed silent next to me for a few seconds before I felt his hand press my shoulder. Of course, he had read the lie.

I sighed. Maybe I could tell him what I had seen yesterday, the connection between a certain shadow singer and the youngest Archeron sister at dinner, but telling him would mean explaining why it affected me so much.

"It's nothing, Cass. It's just that…" I paused to think a bit. "Have you ever felt cornered? Like you're running away from something you don't want to face… But once everything happens before your eyes, there's nowhere left to run."

I looked at him uncertainly, trying to hide the feeling of desperation and sadness. He came closer to me and put one of his arms around my shoulders, ignoring how sweaty we both were, before giving me a look of understanding and nodding gently.

"It's not a pleasant feeling" he agreed. "But I also know that if there's no place left to run, all you can do is face it, or whatever is haunting you will devour you."

"It's not that simple."

"It never is," was his only response before he shrugged "Being over five hundred years old doesn't make things easier."

"It's just that…" I swallowed thickly and finally decided to show him my vulnerable side. "Yesterday…"

However, before I could utter a word, the sound of boots hitting the ground alerted me, and I forced myself to keep my mouth shut. Cassian reacted by frowning and turned to see who it was. I mimicked his action, and when I saw a pair of wings accompanied by dark tendrils, I tensed a little.

I understood that Az had wanted us to hear him coming. So, I didn't flinch when he stood there studying us for a moment.

"Am I interrupting?"

I gave Cassian a quick, discreet glance, trying to convey that we'd finish the conversation later. He looked at me confused, but I shook my head, and he nodded in agreement without insisting.

He pressed my shoulder again before changing his position, still on the ground, but his attention now directed to his brother.

"So, your ass remembered we had training today and decided to show up, huh, Az?" he let out, instantly changing the mood of the place.

"I had a meeting with Rhys" Azriel replied simply, with one corner of his mouth lifted. "You look defeated."

Cassian's wings twitched, and I had to hold back a smile to speak. "He kicked my ass, actually, and now he's here on the ground pitying me."

Az smiled, and for a moment, I had to remind myself that this was nothing, that I shouldn't get any ideas in my head that would only go one way. He was off-limits, and continuing to think that way made my chest ache, so I forced myself to look away and focus on his shadows, some roaming the space, others coiling around his neck, whispering things in his ear.

"Hard to believe after the beating Rhys gave you yesterday" he mocked.

"That's not true" Cassian made an indignant noise before getting up from the ground and heading to the secluded area where we could rest for a while.

Grateful for the distraction from my own thoughts, I laughed as Az approached, and my joy faded a bit when I noticed he was stretching out his hand to help me up. I looked at him and hesitated, but I didn't want him to misinterpret my hesitation, knowing how his mind would tell him it was because of his scars. So, I took his hand, preferring my pain over his, even though these small gestures were what hurt me the most at the end of the day.

I thanked him without looking at him to soften the blow and prevent him from noticing my expression.

"I'm ready to fight you. Whenever you want" Cassian said as he drank water and tied his hair again with the leather strap Nesta had given him.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the competitive flame ignite in Az's face. Then I knew it was time to leave and pray to The Caldroun that neither of them would bleed today.

I walked over to Cassian, with Azriel on my heels, and took some water too, while looking for a towel to dry off. Az guessed what I wanted and handed me one that was next to him.

"Thanks" I repeated again without looking at him.

I said nothing more because I feared the lump that was slowly forming in my throat, but I could feel his gaze scrutinizing me. Nevertheless, I ignored it. I was determined to get rid of all the damn feelings.

As much as it hurt me more than I let on.

"I have to go, Cass. See you later" I said, patting his shoulder.

He nodded, smiling, looking for my gaze. "I'll look for you in the library" he replied, referring to finishing the conversation.

I nodded, and he returned to the training ring. So I turned to Azriel, who was already taking off his shirt, and I had to swallow hard. Seeing him in all his glory was always breathtaking, seeing his bronzed skin, every sculpted muscle, scar, and Illyrian tattoos.

But I would have to learn to forget him. There was no other option.

"See you later, Az" I said, also saying goodbye as I walked past him.

Or rather, trying to. Because he gently took my arm and spread his wings a bit, halting my path and blocking my way.

I had to hold back a shiver and looked at him, full of confusion.

"Everything okay?" he asked softly.

I could feel his eyes searching for answers in mine, even the cold brush of one of his shadows on the arm he still held. The only thing I could think of was to look away and nod.

"Yeah, why?" I replied in the calmest tone I could muster.

He said nothing, but I could still feel him trying to decipher something. As if he were searching for answers somewhere in me and couldn't find them anywhere.

"Are you sure?"

I nodded without saying anything, trying to bury my feelings deep inside. I was terrified; nothing good would come of letting anything surface. I'd rather spend a thousand years in The Prison than ruin the peace that existed in everyone's lives.

Still, I knew I hadn't convinced him that everything was fine, but I also knew he was kind enough not to push me. So finally, after a moment of doubt, he let me go and lowered his wing to let me pass.

"See you later, Az" I said again, escaping so quickly that he had no time to hold me back again or even say anything.

Once a few steps away, I felt the tension leave my body, and I let the expression of concern take over my face. I tried not to look back, I swear I did, but before going down the stairs, I turned my head a bit, only to find Az's worried gaze.

Maybe I should have bothered to change my expression, but, anyway, it didn't matter. Nothing would change, so I just continued my way down the stairs while a feeling of sadness took over my chest.

Let me know if you want me to add you to the tag list. I wasn’t sure if those who had previously asked still wanted to be included, so just let me know if you still want to be tagged!

[silentium-symphony]

A Lamb in Wolf's Clothing (Link x Reader) SMUT

(a/n) hey ya'll! i'm so sorry for going MIA for a few months--as some of you may know, I have just recently graduated from college, so there are a lot of big changes happening in my life right now! i appreciate your continued patience with me :) this fic was commissioned by the lovely @mistressofdeathsblog! thank you for giving me such a fun prompt, I had a lot of fun trying smth new and I hope you enjoy it too!

before you start reading, please take special note of the cw below. also, please remember that this is not a healthy relationship you want to emulate and is written for the sole purpose of entertainment. if you are in a relationship that strips your autonomy and you feel unsafe bringing this issue up to the offending party/parties, please reach out to someone you trust. there is no power in staying if there is no freedom to leave. stay safe out there.

and ofc, since this is smut, minors do not interact with this piece.

cw: dubcon, afab!reader, ooc!link since i highly doubt Hylia's Hero would be so life-alteringly possessive of their lover, tp!link, reader being chased, reader being held against their will, blood, tight spaces, swearing, name-calling, dumbification kinda??, cunnilingus, doggy, mirror/standing sex

wc: 5k

♤♢ ~~ ♡♧

Sweat and blood dribbled down your forehead, stinging your eyes with a salty, metallic bite. Thorn-kissed hands grasped and blindly waded through thick patches of bramble. The dark, bristling whips that surrounded you worked every exposed piece of skin into a raw, bloody mess quivering from the forest's cruelty.

You couldn't care less.

The birds overhead guffawed at your efforts as splotches of pale moon danced mockingly, titillatingly along the cold earth. You chased every moon patch with the frenzy of an escaped convict a morning away from freedom.

Because that's what you were, really.

The beginnings and ends of thoughts knotted and frayed into each other, flurrying your head into a cohesive garble. Just how big was this forest? It looked like a sprawling mess from the fortress you were locked up in, but it was absolutely impenetrable now that you were in the thick of it. It was as if the very woods were enchanted to keep you from ever escaping.

A ring of pain hooked the topside of your foot, propelling all of your momentum downwards and towards the forest floor. You couldn't even scream before you bashed your cheek through a thin layer of crusted mud. The cold soil caked your flushed cheeks--the only shred of relief you've felt since your mad sprint to freedom.

Your spine slinked up into a curl--a pathetic attempt to get up, to begin your chase again, but your battered body refused to endure further abuse. (E/C) eyes flitted about you, trying to interpret the shadows that danced and weaved through the trees.

Running in this state would be pointless. You dug your forearms and elbows to crawl towards an ivy overhang that promised hidden refuge and curled into as tight of a ball you could muster. The silky white dress he gifted you had been ripped past recognition. The airy fabric that once brushed your ankles now clung tightly to your blood-laced thighs, soiled from the toils of flight. You pulled your legs closer; your lungs fought for precious breath against your pounding heart.

What a shame. If only it weren't beating so fast, you might have heard the crack of a single twig located too close for comfort.

From several paces into the unseen was a pair of blue eyes misted over with sinful hunger; your quivering, shorn form was scintillating to watch and feasted his mind with imaginations more heart-racing than the last. Your blood, sweat, and tears mixing with your natural scent proved to be the most tantalizing olfactory cocktail, scattering his thoughts into overdrive.

He hated the rush he got from seeing you like this--lost and confused without his guidance through these nested thorns, yearning for warmth and safety he knew he could provide (and had been providing since you stumbled into his castle that fateful day).

Why did you leave him? Was he not enough for you? But he'd given you everything! Everything! Freshly made home-cooked meals, tailored clothes that hugged your form, a bed warmed by him, his body...

He could still feel the soft plush of your flesh sinking and dimpling in his hands as he thrust into you with the faux tenderness of a starved man. Your beautiful eyes locked with his own, only leaving to disappear into the back of your head. Your mouth agape to let the cutest sounds escape...

If you were happy with him, why were you leaving him?

Not waking up to your face smooshed into his pillows, not beholding you in all the pretty silk and ribbons he had lying around, not fucking you in every position you could possibly think of, not spending every waking moment with you...

Why, he'd rather die.

If it made you happy, he'd allow the ambrosial drippings of freedom to bead your lips.

If it made you happy, he'd let you delude yourself into thinking you were far enough from the castle to be away from him.

But only for now. Link prided himself on his chivalry and patience, but even that was growing thin from your incessant attempts of escape. He was going to have to show you why it was such a good idea to stay here with him, forever and ever and ever.

You were nodding off now, it seemed. The way your head kept dipping and rising in a futile attempt to stay wary was so adorable, he just had to ravish you right then and there! He had barely managed to stave off his intrusive thoughts as he stalked closer to you, still clinging closely to the dark cloak that hung off twisted branches.

You saw something shift from the corner of your eye; your neck snapped up and a croak clawed out of you.

"Who's there?!"

Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

Why was it so quiet?

Had it always been so quiet?

Where have the birds gone?

A familiar silhouette emerged from the trees.

"L-... Link..." Your throat, parched and scratched from heaving the cold night air, rang a voice unfamiliar to you.

Azure eyes that once beheld you with all the love in the world now stare back with deadpan coldness. Words need not be exchanged here; his presence alone blew any hope of escape in the next breeze that ruffled his fur.

A calculated step towards you retreated you further into your little alcove, a prayer that the ivy could take you in as one of its own on your lips. There was no telling what he was thinking, or how close to the edge he was. But that look, that hunger.

That familiar, craved look your body knew too well pulsed anxious tingles through your fingertips.

Another step.

Then another.

Another.

Finally,

He was here.

You could feel him, all of him--his hot breath against your arms, his fur bristling against your thigh, his warmth freezing your blood where it ran. You hadn't realized how much you were shaking until you heard the rhythmic shifting of ivy buzzing into your ear.

He pressed his head into your lap, prying you open to make way for him. And you sat there, obeying him like the perfect little doe you were. As he lazily dragged a tongue across your thigh, lapping at the dried blood that crusted your flesh, he looked up. Relief, adoration, love. That stifling comforting, possessive protective obsession love that he had so readily wrapped you in the moment he met you. For a moment, he looked like a lamb in wolf's clothing.

So many thoughts swirled inside you, your brain numbing to prevent overstimulation. But amongst the chaos, a single thought backdropped every complicated emotion you were feeling.

He had found you.

Had it not been for the blood drumming through your ears and temples, you would have thought time had frozen in this purgative state. He was splayed atop you now, seeming to rest from his hours-long stalking; he wasn't crushing you, but it was clear he had all the control in this dynamic. Any undesirable shift away from him, to preserve your own personhood, would most certainly have led to a 'gentle' nudge toward him.

A single cobalt eye lazily cracked open after a million years ticked by. His piercing gaze, though fringed with some life, made it abundantly clear that your race to freedom was placed at an indefinite standstill. He had never once snapped at you, but the fear lodged in your chest informed you not to test him further.

He hauled himself up, joints locked from inactivity popping to life as he arched into a long stretch. His carefree pose hinted at obliviousness--borderline forgiveness--to your impertinence, but you knew better.

Link never forgets.

He eyed you again with a sort of child-like excitement that twisted your gut into a sickening pattern. His tail arced to and fro, painting his excitement in broad strokes. He wedged his snout between the small of your back and the wall and firmly pushed you forward, scooting you a couple inches toward your prison home.

You knew better than to anger him.

♤♢ ~~ ♡♧

Link's skillful navigation through the thorns was unimpeded by your clinging onto him. It had taken hours to get to where you once were, but a quarter of that time for the wolf. The gloomy castle you had called your home for months (years?) broadened into view until you could clearly see its spires puncture through occasional clouds. The moon, basking in its celestial sovereignty, jeered at your return.

Link slipped through a tiny crack in the iron-clad door, made by the wolf confident in its tracking and retrieving abilities. You slugged off him with practiced movements; a sound akin to obscene magic asundering flesh preluded your captor's transformation. Grisly black fur gave way to sand-blonde hair; the worn, patchwork shirt which heralded his humble beginnings as a rancher ran taut against the back you had spent several minutes clambering onto.

He continued looking ahead unblinkingly as you idled a few paces behind him, your chest constricting and mind frenzying with murky anticipation. Your nerves, frayed from adrenaline and brain-altering fear, now swam in the heavy nothingness of silence; you were a breath away from weeping before a tenor tone disturbed the still.

"Let's get you cleaned up."

Silently, you both moved through the halls, paying the torchlit shadows the special type of attention one gave to the mundane in moments choked with awkwardness. Worn, freshly torn hands bunched the hem of your dress until your knuckles whitened. A part of you wished to never reach your destination, preferring thickened stillness over the unpredictable inevitable. You rounded a familiar corner and gathered the shreds of your sanity to brace yourself for whatever may come.

The sullen wooden door gave way to the man's heave and you followed him in. A large bathroom decorated only with the essentials filled your view. As Link ran the faucet, your eyes absently glazed over the rickety plumbing he had installed to transport hot spring water to the tub. For the first time since his transformation, he turned to you.

"Strip."

His clear, authoritative tone cut sharper than any thorn that had shredded you. Eyes downcast, your fingers wrought the straps of your dress further, further down your shoulders. Your skin burned from your clammy fingers; you blamed it on the steam that had begun filling the corners of the room and ignored the heavy, heated stare placed on you by the male.

Link followed your dawdling, hooking his fingers under the hem of his shirt and lifting it to reveal a stomach sculpted by years of farm work and adventuring. The straps of your dress coiled close to your elbows before settling by your ankles. Your hands immediately scattered to cover your exposed parts as Link finished undressing himself, his fully erect length blurred by warm mists and (eventually) a deftly wrapped towel.

He reached over to squeak the faucet shut; the comforting, monotonous lull of running water now halted to scant droplets. After pulling out the small basket of rags and soap, he sat on a bar stool and beckoned you with a lone finger.

"Come here. You're filthy."

You shuffled out of the shredded dress and forward, keeping your eyes trained on the end of the tub where he sat.  The wanton desire for a hot bath waived your concerns over the situation, dulling your fears enough to throw a leg over the edge and sink everything but the top half of your face below the water.

The warm panacea cloaked you in an elixir of ease, and a satisfied groan unintentionally lapsed your lips; your hand figuratively slapped over your mouth when the air honeyed into something...

Sinful.

Link dipped a small bucket into the bathwater and slowly poured it over your head, calloused fingers expertly combing through knotted, crusted strands. The hardened skin tenderly brushing the back of your neck jolted heated memories to the forefront of your mind.

You could still feel the harsh, almost desperate grip laced in your hair as he pounded you from behind, panting sweet promises to give you more for the rest of your lives. Your face, buried in his pillows, blindly nodded along to the specifics of what he had said, your mind too blurred to focus on much else aside from your umpteenth high of the night.

The warm water felt like a cold deluge and a noticeable shiver ran through you. Soapy hands stopped caressing your scalp.

"(F/N)?"

"H-Huh?"

"How about we play a little game?" Link murmured suddenly, absently twirling your locks in his fingertips. Had it not been for the taut fingers interweaved through your hair, your surprise would have been more apparent.

"What... What game?"

"A little game similar to hide-n-seek." He started languidly, as if savoring every vowel that lisped his tongue. "If you can evade my capture until dawn, I will guide you to the forest's edge so you may leave. However..."

Rough fingerpads traced up the side of your bicep as darkened ears caught your quiet, involuntary gasp.

"If I catch you... You're mine. Deal?"

Throat tightening and heart palpitating, your mind fought to keep its last ounce of calm as your captor's hand circled to your front to cusp and knead your--

"What's the catch?" You breathed, somehow managing to divert your attention away from Link's sinful reaches.

"There is no catch, but there are rules." He pecked your cheek, his lips curving into a soft smile that thinly veiled iller intents.

"You are allowed to hide anywhere in the castle grounds and use whatever means necessary to hide from me, so long as neither of us gets seriously injured... The moment you step foot in that forest, I will claim you where you stand. Is that fair?"

Was this a trick?

A sick joke meant to dangle tonight's failure in your face?

Surely it was... But what if it wasn't?

His steady stare that peered shamelessly through your soul conveyed a degree of seriousness and sincerity required to make a truthful statement.

"How do I know that you won't go back on your word?"

"I have never lied to you." He gritted his teeth. "Can you say the same?"

The genuine hurt masking his eyes ached your chest, but the tiniest shred of dignity you had left netted the apology that almost escaped your mouth.

"Is there anything else I should know before I make my decision?"

"No. I have told you everything you need to know and will uphold my end of the deal. The final decision is yours."

♤♢ ~~ ♡♧

Moonlight masqueraded through the gaping windows, streaking drab grey pillars with hints of alabaster. The halls which you have called home for what felt like time immemorial now crowded your vision with a foreign bite, sinking into your flesh an unnerving uncertainty around every corner.

Your neck swiveled on all axes, one eye trained in front of you and the other separating the benign from foe that hid in every dancing shadow. Bare feet pattering against olden stone filled the gaps in between each racing heart beat, drumming your ears in a never-ending symphony of chase.

Legs aching, quaking, begging for proper rest are promptly ignored, outcompeted by the more urgent matter at hand.

Your final gambit for freedom.

You cursed under your breath as you ascended a spiraling staircase, your lungs burning with the rage of a thousand suns from heaving in the cold, arid air. The stone floor kissed knicks into the soles of your feet as you skidded around a corner and madly dashed down the hall, shifting down a narrow crawlspace that branched off from the main hall.

Whispered hisses and curses bounced off the tightening walls as rough-hewn stone jagged into your skin, reopening recently closed wounds from the brambles. You could only pray that Link was far enough away to not pick up on freshly streaked blood.

A familiar carpet--the one from the main hall--filled your view and you slowed your shimmying into a momentary pause. You fought to see through your grimace to peer around the corner and hoped that your heart wasn't beating loud enough to mask the signs of your stalker.

All good...?

You scooted out of that uncomfortable position and ducked towards the exit.

The private gardens opened up to you. Trails of ivy found residence in the cracked grey of decayed walls and the fountain was spewing the most delicious water your parched throat had ever seen. You circled the mini courtyard, your frenzied mind shunting the garden's haunting aesthetics in search of a practical hiding place. To your right was the more open space of the main courtyard, and to your left were the untrimmed topiaries of Hyrulian heroes commemorated only in flora.

Streaks of morning were just beginning to tip the horizon.

Your feet teetered toward the right, but a certain non-human shadow slinked past the threshold. All color drained from your pallor as you scurried around the topiary's wide base and hid behind the cloister's stone pillar. The sounds of flesh ripping and reanimating shot through the air; tears began to freely flow as a carefree whistle ambled closer to you.

"My, my... It's almost daybreak. I must find my beloved soon, or else I'll lose her forever."

The sky was just beginning to tinge a magenta-red.

"Is she... Hiding by the door?"

Boots clicking against stone rang like a departed's dirges. Your clammy fingers dug into the side of your face--a feeble attempt to muffle your whimpering.

"Is she... Behind these topiaries? No? Hm... But I'm getting close, aren't I, (F/N)?"

All strength, all hope, had been sapped from your body; your knees locked and buckled.

"Oh? Have we always had a little walkway back here? What a wonderful surprise! I know my darling would love it here."

Your vision darkened.

Leather nestled softly into your face as the heat of another poured and mingled with the cold stone pressed to your back.

"Guess who?" He sang.

You felt all your muscles simultaneously release their tension; your legs folded in on themselves, but secure arms hooked them under and hoisted you bridal style.

As you were carted inside the dark fortress, the morning sun greeted you in its soft-rayed glory.

♤♢ ~~ ♡♧

The stale castle air flooded your lungs as your body was unceremoniously tossed onto the bed. A hand tightened around your wrists and hot, agitated lips locked with yours before your brain could register the cotton plush of your sheets. His other hand feathered up your thigh, learned fingers grazing all your tender spots and teasing your thoughts into a foggy mix of want.

Your figure writhed uselessly under him as he flattened you further into the bed, using his full weight to keep you pinned where he wanted. The hand that carried out its sinful ministrations below shot up to seize your cheeks. Rough fingerpads bruised the softer flesh as he craned your neck to make way for his lips, flushed with a feral red and coated with soft proclamations of domination.

"You're mine... All mine..."

Hot breaths ghosted the surface of your neck, tickling a heated whine out of you. Your needy noises hitched into a gasp when you felt moistened lips lock onto your skin, suckling and teething the flesh into discolored patches. Rich vermilion fringed with a sinful violet bloomed below your jawline, trailing down and darkening with each claim closer to your chest.

He yanked the noisome dress down, exposing all of your chest to him. The snaps of cloth ripping from its handles and the sudden whip of cold air across your most sensitive parts pierced a jolt through your body. He pulled away to admire the shades of purple and red marring your fair complexion, a visual reminder to the dust haunting old halls and courtyards lost to time that you were his, and his alone. A lone tongue swirled around an irritated bud.

Trembles quaked through you--from heated anticipation or disgust, you were unsure. He hooked his fingers back into your cheeks and pried your face to look into his own. Sky-blue eyes, which once beheld you in crinkled happiness, had dimmed into a hazy navy clouded with lust.

"So pretty... My gorgeous, gorgeous girl."

Soft lips brushed your forehead, ambled down to your nose, and finally settled on your lips.

"My good girl."

Lips warmed with depraved whispers silenced around your bud. Starved suckling backdropped the more apparent whimpers scratching your throat, dredged in pleasure with a dulling edge of resistance. Scarred skin delicately cusped your mounds, tweaking and flicking your perkiness until it was a rosy red.

Your growing sensitivity stung tears into your eyes. Achy hands, now free from his grasp, grappled onto sinewy shoulders but did little to convey genuine discomfort. A deep groan purred from his chest as Link balanced your sore bud in a soft knead between his teeth. A pop filled the room.

"Let me see those eyes."

Your eyes wedged open to see blown-out blues taking all of you in. Your heart pounded a flush into your cheeks and christened an unholy flame to spread through your core.

"That's it... Now watch me..."

He dragged his body lower and lower, his eyes unwavering from yours for even a second. Steady hands balled into the collar of your dress and tore through the silk, the symphony of rips bouncing off the walls and knocking coherence out of your head. His lips matched the pace of the ragged unveiling and chased progressively exposed flesh with soft kisses, down, down, and farther down. Feverish breaths along your inner thighs sent chills up your spine.

"Watch me as I make you cum for me."

Hands gnarled from knighthood knotted into the delicate lace separating him from his prize, tearing it apart with ease.

"Link, hold--ah!"

Your eyes shot to the back of your head as your mouth gaped into a silent 'O.' An orchestra of colors, conducted by a madly indulgent maestro, symphonized into a crazed, otherworldly experience. His tongue coiled and stretched into you with the practiced precision of many amorous nights while his thumb circled the space around your clit, teasing the nub until agony. It was only a matter of time before your impassioned gasps and pleas competed with the downright sinful wetness Link lapped below.

"Tell me you love this--that you love me."

"Link, please! Just give it to me please, please, please...!" The top of your head rolled further into your pillow when the painful prick of a pinch shot too much for too short a time.

"Don't look away. Don't you dare look away, you filthy slut." Deft fingers plunged into you until pleasure fried your brain. "You'll cum when I tell you to."

Your whines and whimpers hiccuped into full sobs for release, whistled with pleas and promises you both knew you wouldn't keep.

"You'll love me forever, right? You'll be my good lil' cock slut forever, right?"

"Yes! Yes, I promise! Please Link, just let me cum already, please!"

You damn liar.

He pulled away, coldly gazing at the weeping, quivering, gasping mess of his beloved.

"Link...? W-why did you--"

"Your heart may have forgotten, but your body remembers..."

His sweet lips, tinted with a hint of bitter longing, moved with yours in a desperate, crazed dance. Every lust-filled, haggard groan ripped from his lungs masked the quieter crack running up his heart.

The bed creaked from the sudden redistribution of your weight as he spread you on all fours. He aligned himself to your entrance and, in a single motion that he had done hundreds of times, completed you. A wail, colored in pleasure and streaked with pain, contrasted Link's blissed-out groan. Tears brimmed the corner of your eyes; each droplet slipped down your cheek in time with his frenetic pounding until it had thickened into a steady stream.

He wasted no time in his pursuit for pleasure, hitching his pelvis to your ass, pulling away, and slamming back in with the gentleness of a starved wolf ripping into a lamb. His fingers dug crescents into your hips as he adjusted himself, propping one of his legs up to angle himself deeper and faster into you.

He was stretching you past your limits, and every thrust was accompanied by a heated flash of pain. Your upper half sunk towards the bed as he moved your hips higher, closer to him. Helpless (E/C)s stared at the creaking bedpost while your whitening knuckles dug through the sheets clumped in your hands. A salty mixture of tears and saliva pooled on your pillow as honeyed cries haunted your walls.

"What, is my princess not having a good time?" He jeered, reaching over to give your engorged clit a cruel flick and your ass an even crueler slap. "What does my baby want me to do to her? Huh? What do you want me to do to your tight pussy?"

"L-Link, It hurts! It's too--!"

The side of your quivering hips slammed into the mattress and forced you on your back. Your face snapped into the pillow when his writhing tongue replaced his thick cock, tonguing and lapping at your dripping pussy as if your ambrosia would be the last thing he was to taste. He pulled out and spat on your entrance, pressing his tongue flat against your pussy and swiping up towards the clit that he coiled.

"Mmph... Fuck, I love you... Give me more... Gods, give me more."

A bruising ache pressed into your hips as his frenzied circling spurred faster, faster, faster. Pleasure dizzied your senses towards a dark void; the familiar knot in your stomach that ached to unravel popped with the abrupt re-emergence of Link.

"Mm, tight as ever... How're you feeling, my dove?" He husked, ragged breaths encapsulating the shell of your ear.

"Too b-bi--Link, you're too big!"

"Shhh... You can take it. You've taken it hundreds of times. C'mon, squeeze my cock like a good girl."

"It's so--Link, you're stretching me out, I need to--"

"Not yet. I'm not done fucking you yet." He swiveled you back on all fours and pounded you into the mattress, your cries and pleas be damned. Slender fingers snarled through your tresses and strained you away from the pillows that held your screams.

"When I'm ready, I want to watch you cum all over my cock." His erratic pounding slowed for a split second, enough time for a certain thought to come and go. "I want you to see it too."

Your abused cunt finally had a moment to breathe and process; if only your brain had that same luxury.

The bed sighed a relieved groan as Link crawled out and wrapped his arms about your lower abdomen to hoist you up. When it was evident that this pathetically limp curl was the best you could do, toned forearms hooked under your knees and spread your legs in the most vulnerable position you've ever been in. With a huff, Link brought you front and center to the mirror. You both watched breathlessly as he lowered you onto his slicked cock, sinking every inch into your gummy walls.

"Fuck, you're so tight... I need you, (F/N)..."

His crazed pistoning began once more; the sensations that ransacked your body were unlike anything you'd ever experienced before. The tip of his cock so easily, so effortlessly rammed into your sweetest spots; every thrust he slammed into you turned you into a shamelessly shaking, overstimulated mess.

"Look at you," he hummed darkly, "look at all the sin running down your legs."

Link's voice was so far away now. The way he kept disappearing into your sopping cunt and your juices dribbling over your thighs consumed your every thought. The only tangible you could feel was the building pressure coiling in your gut, tightening with each passing second.

"So beautiful... So tight... Don't you want to do this forever? Hm? Don't you want to be ruined by me forever and ever?"

His teeth sunk into your neck, adding to the carnal collection and ripping a hoarse cry out of you.

"You're my good girl, aren't you? My good girl... You're all mine--all fucking mine."

Veins marbled his arms and forehead as he nuzzled into your neck, tongue tracing the edge of every bite. The labored grunts that occasionally wheezed out of him, along with his stuttering hips, signaled that he was teetering closer and closer to the edge. Hooded blues stared piercingly into your own, weighed down by mindless intoxication. His lips brushed a flame through the curve of your ear.

"Look at me..." He purred. "Look at me and confess your lust to me."

A shattered cry, followed by a wave of profane heat, collided with your system. Winced eyes lolled to the back of your head while you spasmed and twitched in still arms. Your violent clenching and knowledge of your release strained a guttural growl through Link's chest as he spurted his cum as deep as it could go. Thin, white threads coated your walls and trailed out your still-plugged hole until drips of sin stained the stone below.

Link tripped to the foot of the bed, his body folding into the sheets the second his foot made contact with the wooden post. With arms wrapped comfortably around you and the familiar presence of your spent lover, you passed out the moment your body recognized blissed finality.

As you commenced your near-immediate foray into the realm of dreams, a familiar voice--soft yet broken--rang through your last layer of consciousness.

"Sleep well, my dove. If eternally precarious possession is the closest thing we will ever have to love, I will gorge myself on it."

[xxsycamore]

╰┈➤ It’s Halloween night at the Crown caste, and you’re looking for some fun.

- William, Harrison, Liam, Elbert, Alfons, Jude, Ellis, Roger, Victor, Ring, Nica, Darius x f!reader

[ ◄ PART 1 ] - ◉ PART 2 - [ PART 3 ►]

• rating: 🔞 E (MDNI) • tags: Monsterfucking; Human/Monster; Mythical Beings & Creatures; Manipulation; Mildly Dubious Consent; Curse play; Non-Human Genitalia; Anonymous Sex; Masquerades; Creampie; Vaginal Sex; Size Difference; Size Kink; Power Dynamics; Power Imbalance; Power Play; Corruption; Multiple Orgasms; Dom/sub; Fondling; Manhandling; Near Death Experiences; Adrenaline; Flying Sex; Predator/Prey; Tail Sex; Tail Play; Possessive Behavior; Cervix Penetration; Oviposition; Eggpreg; Breeding; Unplanned Pregnancy • wordcount:  3,264 • masterlist

a/n: I got this idea for a story that is similar to Nine Nights, but without any plot or continuity between the different parts whatsoever. Unless, of course, you want to imagine that all of these take place one after another (poor Reader)... Monsterfucking is a new territory for me, so please bear with me. Once again, I tried leaving you with enough hints about who is who and I hope you can have fun guessing them lol

Dubcon warning: The reader seeks out physical intimacy on her own from the very beginning, however, some suitors use their curses' abilities on her without her being aware of it.

NEW: I made a playlist for this fic! It consists of 12 songs, one for each scenario. Enjoy <3

VISIONS OF TEMPTATION 2024/ KINKTOBER DAY 31: Non-human characters/traits

❝ MONSTER VILLAINS' NIGHT. ❞ (PART 2)

V. A fearful Demon King

"You're doing such a good job, little one. Keep rising and falling on me."

Dark shadows enfold the throne upon which the Demon King sits, with you seated on his large cock, steadily fucking yourself on it. His power is great and fearsome, making you dizzy when you try to look into the blurry memory of where you were just a handful of minutes ago or how it all led to this. You just know that if you were given the chance to go back, you'd still choose the same fate.

"Haaah… It's so big! I can't go any faster, my Lord… nghhh…."

From the moment you came to understand that the powerful being has chosen you to service him, you felt far more honored than scared. It all changed when he revealed his monstrous cock to you. With its shiny onyx-colored base and angry red head, mirroring the coloration of the twin horns on top of the Demon King's head, what intimidated you most was the girth of it. You were sure you wouldn't be able to fit something the width of your fist inside you, and you expressed those concerns to your Lord through a series of pathetic sobs, not failing to show him how much you wish you could, of course.

Then he did something unexplainable yet very simple at the same time. He used his clawed hand - the limb elegant despite its inhumanly size and black color - the pointy tip of his blood-red claw tipped your chin upwards so you could meet his demonic gaze. Looking into his crimson irises made all your hesitation go away in a flash, and suddenly you knew it was going to be alright.

Next thing you knew, you were piercing yourself on his length, letting it stretch you open and ruin you for everyone else. Not that it matters, you belong to your Lord now - the way he caves a room for himself inside you, you can only feel that he owns you now, body and mind.

The fluids seeping from his bulbous head acted like a lubricant that made your tight hole accommodate him bit by bit until he was all the way in, and you could only writhe in pleasure and haphazardly stroke your clit as the orgasms overcame you one after the other. The fear of doing something so indecent and selfish without his permission made you snap out of it, but your lord only kept the smirk on his face, encouraging you to keep going.

Even now that you've just let him know that the big intrusion inside you is preventing you from speeding up, he seems to be relaxing back in his throne, contently watching you struggle on your own. Your boldness grows with the need to push yourself over the edge in yet another orgasm, and while doing so, you reach for the black, curved horns on top of his head. You're clearly out of your mind to be doing that, so you search for his gaze that will decide your fate for you.

"I allow it."

A moan rips out of your throat, followed by a dozen blabby and brainless thank-you's. The new leverage works in your favor as you spasm and gush around the red-black appendage inside you, feeling it further stretching your walls on every rise and fall of your hips.

Without any awareness of the passage of time, it seems like you've been lost in this euphoric trance for an eternity before he finally grows bored of your pace. The demonic hand that he previously propped up his chin with is now snaking its way down your little human body, having a delectable taste of your soft parts with a squeeze there and there, before finally settling on your waist. His other hand joins too, and suddenly you have no power over your own movements - he grounds you to his lap easily, making you take his cock all the way in, before starting to move you up and down on his own will.

You feel light in his hold, your brain clearing out of any remaining thoughts that you previously had to keep into, when something still depended on you. The new wave of pleasure you're granted is stronger than anything you've felt, and you can only hear the obscene sounds of sticky fluids leaking from the place you're connected, your body locked in an eternal state of climax.

The last thing you feel is an overwhelming fullness deep in your womb that seems to go on forever, before you're finally settled down on the powerful being's torso, a clawed hand stroking the underside of your chin as your consciousness slips away.

VI. A deceitful Angel

The man dressed all in white has been standing out from the crowd all throughout the night, but he's even more remarkable now up close, you must admit. While he talks to you with his harmonically sweet voice, all you can focus on is the way his skin seems to glow under the scarce light of the eerily decorated hall. He's quite friendly, his golden eyes warm and inviting, as he suggests exploring the stairs to the roof of the castle.

You think nothing of it, sneaking off with him like a pair of juveniles as his laughter rings through the narrow spiral staircase. The night sky becomes a beautiful backdrop to his figure, and soon you're enamored enough of him to confess with a little chuckle that he looks like an angel. He gives you a mysterious smile, putting a slender finger in front of his lips, and in the next second a beautiful pair of wings spread wide on his back.

You're mesmerized by the sight, not believing your eyes - the angel-like stranger seems to be reading your mind at that moment because he evidently wants to show you just how real they are.

Namely, by pulling you by the hand where he stands at the edge of the rooftop, making you fall forward ontop of him, and right off the edge.

Your scream is sincere as you rapidly approach the ground, eyes squeezing shut as you say goodbye to your life, but the inevitable impact never comes. Instead, you're airborne, carried on the wings of the now laughing stranger who gave you the scare of your life. He never struck you as someone so cruel, but just as you're about to conclude he's no angel, you're given an even bigger reason to think that way. His wings suddenly strip their white color, feathers darkening as if covered by tar, until they become completely black.

"Are you enjoying the flight? I'd say the world looks far better from above. But we can make the sight even more enjoyable."

The sweet voice whispers those words close enough to your ear to send shivers, as you have no choice but to cling to him for dear life. His hands are free while yours are locked tightly around his neck, and he puts them to good use, moving them down your body and under the layers of fabric, baring you little by little.

"Ahh-Why-"

"Why not? You said that I'm an angel, didn't you? Maybe I just want to show you what heaven feels like, little bird."

If he's an angel, he's for sure a fallen one; someone like him has surely been punished for committing a despicable sin. Yet you can't help but moan at the way you're manhandled in the air, placed over his hot length, as it penetrates you in one long, slow thrust.

"Ahhhh! Nghh!"

You've never been in such a position, feeling so powerless but also feeling so good, your weight naturally falling on his cock with every flap of his wings. The celestial being cradles you close, giving you yet another illusion that he's being generous while in truth just using you for his own pleasure, a warm and tight sleeve to manipulate up and down in the air as he sees fit. Looking down makes you dizzy, as he practically holds your life in his hands, and you will yourself to concentrate on the growing pleasure that inevitably comes with the ordeal he puts you through, one that is greater than anything you've felt before. If you make it out alive, you'll remember it for the rest of your life.

"Aren't you enjoying this a lot, hmm? Don't you want to soar in the skies with me forever? How delightful will it be if you grew a pair of wings of your own, right here?"

He trails a deft finger across your back, dragging it upwards, right between your shoulder blades. It coincides with the fire inside you engulfing you to the point of no return, and you come undone on his cock, clinging to the body keeping you safe.

"It will hurt a little, but it will be all worth it. Don’t you want it? To help create a beautiful world by my side?"

As the angelic laughter rings in your ears, you feel a gush of liquid shoot inside you, and you begin to wonder why his offer seems so tempting at this very moment.

VII. A ferocious Minotaur

Going out in the garden for some fresh air shouldn't necessarily entail getting lost in the hedge maze, yet here you are.

As you turn yet another corner, fighting off the surprise of discovering a new dead end, you tell yourself that getting out of here can’t be that hard. Luckily the party is not ending any time soon, so maybe no one will notice your absence while you're on your own impromptu adventure. You won't speak of it afterward, that's for sure.

However, there's something entirely different that's been bothering you as you walk through the labyrinth-like walls of greenery, and that's the strong sense of being followed that you've been feeling for some time now. Not like eyes on your back, but rather, like a lingering sense of danger that you're about to run into any second now. You approach the next corner with caution, look behind, and relax enough to make fun of yourself in your head. But that only lowers your guard enough to make you scream with surprise when out of nowhere, a hand reaches for your shoulder.

"Hey, calm down. Are you alright? I've been trying to catch up with you for some time now. You appear to be running in circles. Are you lost?"

The man behind you is of large build, the pair of horns protruding from his brown hair only adding to his already admirable height, even if they're more sprawling at the sides of his head rather than from above - not unlike those of a ram. It's strange; for a moment there you had the feeling he'd been hunting you down towards this place in the center of the maze, but he doesn't seem to be ill-intended.

"W-Well- Not really, I just went out to get some fresh air, and-"

It must be pride that prevents you from accepting his help, or the fact that reaching the spacious center of the maze gives you the illusion of having made it halfway out of it without any help. Either way, the man lets out a short, wry laugh, almost mockingly so.

"I see. You are one of those who linger alone in here, looking for fun."

"T-That's not it! I honestly just meant to-"

The man steps in closer to you, his heavy boots coming to almost touch the tip of your own shoes now, and the difference in your builds is intimidatingly evident at that moment.

"How about this. You will try and make it out of here on your own. But if you fail, if I catch you - I will have my fun with you, there on the spot."

You can't believe yourself when the cold sweat beading at the base of your nape is not enough to stop you from giving it a thought. Maybe you were looking for some fun, maybe it was your frustration with failing to find fun that led you out of the hall to "take a breather" and get rid of the irritating arouse you've been feeling for some time - why hesitate just because you didn't expect to find your ticket to the entertainment here, in the garden?

The animalistic aura of the man and his respectable size gives you just enough push to make this fair, to actually give it your all before you fall into his hands. 

***

Well, you can't say that you didn't put up a fight.

The brown-haired man seems to enjoy pinning you down and restricting you just as much as you enjoy protesting in his strong hold, testing the strength of his toned arms. It's humiliating, feeling the cold cobblestone ground under your hands and knees, but you don't want anything to break the immersion of being his prey.

Though, he gives you enough to feed the fantasy as it is. Until you doubt it's a fantasy anymore. Not when something large and tapered and inhuman prods at your hole.

"W-What-"

"You stay quiet and take it, 'lil lady. That's your punishment for getting caught."

You feel your brain beginning to melt with the intrusion of the tapered head of his girthy cock, and you brace yourself for being this monster's plaything, hearing him groan above you as he bottoms out.

You need to think about making it out of the maze at some point too, but right now you're not very capable of that.

VIII. A possessive Dragonkin

(CW: oviposition, breeding, unplanned pregnancy)

You noticed something being amiss the very second you entered the room. This is his territory, that much is certain - and you let him walk you in here willingly. As his grip around your waist tightens, tongue long since down your throat in a breath-stopping kiss, your half-lidded eyes catch hazy glimpses of the space. The moonlight seeping from the windows helps you make up the contours of piles upon piles of objects of various shapes and colors covering every surface. Most of them shiny, intricate, antique, scattered around without order yet clearly kept with purpose.

At the very center of it all, you're being undressed by restless hands that seemingly want to reveal way more of your skin than is necessary for a simple, short-lived tryst between strangers. You expect his touch to be cold, but every part of you becomes scorching hot under his fingertips. His skin is smooth as it glides against yours, the moon making it glow almost, as he aims to maximize the contact between your bodies.

You want to touch him back, but something long, strong and scaly wraps around your middle, lifting you up with ease and suspending you in the air. Is that his... tail? You kick your feet at the loss of gravity, afraid that he will drop you, but he simply watches you squirm and struggle with his slitted icy-blue eyes.

"Mine."

The sudden pressing of his cock against your drenched entrance distracts you from this strange surge of possessiveness. Your limbs tremble as he bottoms out, the blunt tip of his appendage brushing against your cervix and sending electricity through your writhing form, a mixture of pain and pleasure overwhelms your senses.

With every thrust, it becomes easier, as your body not only becomes more pliable towards his size, but it also begins to crave more. It's like the precome smeared on his tip numbed your cervix, because you suddenly don't mind the feeling of him knocking on it on every thrust.

"Mine."

The whisper is followed by a grunt, and it makes you look at the stranger's face again. He's looking at you, yet it's like he's not seeing you; fixated on something underneath the surface, even his mantra of possessiveness is voiced out solely out of his own necessity to say it and not directed towards you. You reach out a hand and brush it against his pale, smooth cheek. Your fingertips graze blond hair locks and aim higher up, where a pair of pointy horns stand tall on the top of his head. They're translucent and blue in color, as if cut out from pure sapphire, and you're mesmerized by the sight, by all of him. Even if his tail wraps snuggly around you to keep you in place, his pace is rather rough, and one particularly sharp thrust has you grasping at those beautiful horns for support.

You're rewarded with a growl, and the sound of it makes your insides squeeze around the thick cock that continues to mercilessly pound your cunt. In a haze, you barely notice how the very tip of his tail snakes its way towards your clit and begins to stroke it.

"Ahhh!" You throw your head back as pleasure rocks your body, a powerful climax ripping through you. As your mind blanks out, you register your need growing tenfold despite having just orgasmed. In answer, he doesn't as much as slow down his thrusts, giving you exactly what you want.

Suddenly, you begin to feel a strange bulb at the base of his cock that presses more and more into your entrance, as if moving higher. The rational part of your brain, barely functioning, sends worrisome signals, but the part that wants this easily overpowers it. You don't need to understand it. You only need to think of the undiscovered pleasure that awaits you with that delicious stretch. Your walls pulsate helplessly around it, an itch that nothing else would be able to scratch, you're ruined for everything else at that very moment. The bulb slowly moves higher, making its way to your bruised cervix, until it finally presses against it, firmly.

There is a sense of resistance for a second, until finally, something pops inside. Tears of overstimulation gather in the corners of your eyes, and you feel something small and rounded nestling deep inside, in your uterus. It makes you orgasm on the spot, body thrashing around in the strong hold you're being kept in, as your vision turns to white for a mere second.

A gush of liquid follows, and you open your eyes to see the one doing this to you breathing rapidly as he too reaches his orgasm. His seed floods you, seeping into your dilated cervix without anything to hold it back, and drenches the egg resting in your womb. A rush of realization goes to your fucked-out mind and you just know, with every cell on your body, and by some ancient design, that whatever he put inside you has been fertilized successfully in that very moment.

"Mine."

You hear the wicked mantra leave his lips one last time before you pass out, and you briefly have the opportunity to worry about your future. Is he going to keep you here forever? Or maybe your purpose will end with expelling the egg once it finishes its growth, to add another treasure to his collection. You can't help but wonder, when he says "mine", why is it that you don't mind whether he's referring to you or the good incubator that your womb makes?

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @kimi00twin @g-kleran @thesirenwashere @devonares @galaxyprison  @starshards26 @thewitchofbooks @acethephoenix256 @crystal13unny @lordsister @ikemen-banshou  @themysticalbeing @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @ikemenlover24 @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es @aria-chikage @babyblue0t7 @rhodoliteschaos @shrimpy-kitsune @nightghoul381 @xbalayage @lucyw260 @kittygrimm88 @lokis-laugh @natimiles @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf @groovylita @raeraeks @ethereal-blossom @valkyyriia @candied-boys @ludivineikewolf Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

[bluskaiwriting]

top of the food chain | sergei "kraven" kravinoff

➤ pairing: AFAB reader x Sergei Kravinoff / Kraven

➤ warnings: Smut, predator/prey power play, mild kink if you squint (a little rusty so i'm just easing back into it)

➤ notes: it has been so long since i've felt the proper urge to write smut for a character and of course it has to be kraven *chef's kiss*

➤ more: masterlist | smut reblog blog 

She thinks it must be fate, the way she practically fell into his trap. Their destinies tangled like a spider's web before they even breathed their first breaths. He was made for her as she was made for him.

She'd been barely old enough to be out there in those woods alone. Old enough that the judge declared she was no longer a ward of anyone. She was finally free.

Hopping on the first train out of there, she ended up somewhere in the mountains. After years of suffocating under someone else's thumb. Fresh air and green grass, that was all she wanted.

The mountains seemed perfectly idyllic and visions of her spending her days here flashed in perfect sequences before her.

Until she realised that she was woefully unprepared for the rough terrain and most definitely did not think her dumb little plan through.

Night fell quicker than she realised, leaving her shivering and struggling to find food. By some miracle, she had gotten the fire going before darkness fell but now the gurgle of her stomach was starting to echo.

Foraging was her plan, though she only knew brief notes of medicinal roots and herbs. Sustenance was slightly different. She'd trudged as far as the firelight touched to avoid losing her way.

Losing the spirit and gusto that so quickly drove her out here, dread and dispair began to take their place. A feeling rose up in her, souring her nose and wetting her eyes.

She was a fool, a silly little girl who honestly believed she could do something for once in her life.

About to lose all hope, something glinted in the moonlight in the corner of her eye, something that looked hopefully like a berry. Instinctively, she turned and stepped towards the glint.

Suddenly she was 10 feet in the air, trapped in a net of some sort and still frozen from shock. She was now caught in a trap.

A stupid, stupid trap that she was doomed to stay in until the hunter who set it up remembered to check on it or until she died of starvation.

Fortunately, luck seemed to be on her side tonight. A man emerged from the shadows, steps feather-light against the ground in practised movements. Shoulder-length dark hair that curled against his cheekbones, glowing yellow eyes that pierced through her soul, and the build of a hunter for sure.

The small glimmer of hope she'd felt at the sight of another soul, was quickly eclipsed by something much darker, and far more primal. For some odd reason, her gut told her that she was prey and she needed to run.

She was always very good at ignoring her instincts.

Her eyes scanned slowly, taking him in. Strong thick thighs, long arms lined with veins, and plump lips. She imagined what it would feel like to be caught in those arms, to sit upon those thighs and feel him tense beneath her.

He raised his eyebrow as he clearly caught her eyeing him, and his tongue darted out to wet his lips. His eyes were now scanning her too in reciprocation.

Her breath hitched at the sight, and her chest rose and fell in rapid motion. She was a prey caught in a predator's trap.

Though not an entirely unwilling prey.

He approached slowly, eyes never leaving her's.

"Who are you?"

She was surprised to hear an American accent lilting in his voice, betraying his almost native grasp of Russian.

"Cut me down."

Her voice was clear and crisp, she hoped, betraying none of her nerves and trepidation.

His eyebrows raised once again before he stepped forward and lowered the trap to the ground.

It was almost unfair, how easily she followed him when he beckoned to her. The pathetically desperate way she almost tripped over herself to run after him, when he sped up.

It's just because she was afraid of being out there alone, purely for safety reasons. At least, that's what she told herself to ease the sting on her ego.

And how she really found herself beneath him, panting and wanting? Well, she was cold and he was a human heater of course.

"Faster, please." She whimpered pathetically, whining with every thrust he delivered.

His hips pistoned in and out of her poor puffy pussy, wetness dribbling out of her with every push.

"Is all this just for me?" He asked, voice lilting with arrogance.

He pulled back and spread her thighs wide, taking in the sight before him. Pink lips glistened with the evidence of what they'd just been doing, her mind absolutely blank of anything.

Dipping his head, he breathed in deeply, a growl emanating from his chest.

Fuck.

Licking a long stripe along her slit, he pressed deep into her cunt, fucking into her with his tongue. He wasn't just tasting her, he was devouring her.

As he laved on her clit, his fingers hooked into her. Noises of uh, uh, uh, left her breathless.

She could feel it building, cresting higher and higher. She was so close if she could just get him a little deeper.

As his fingers explored her, he found a spot that had her making a noise. A noise so vulgar, her flushed cheeks grew hotter.

Smirking, he ground his palm into her swollen clit and drove his fingers into that spongey spot repeatedly.

She let out a wail so loud, she was certain all the animals heard. Her vision spotting white and a continuous ringing in her ears.

"Jesus Christ."

He huffed a laugh as he sat back up, releasing her thighs from his grip.

"Turn over." He smacked her ass, still kneeling before her looking more like a beast than a man as his eyes seemed to glow.

Trembling from the aftershocks of her orgasm, she propped herself onto her knees and lowered her arms to the bed. In this position, she almost felt like she was presenting herself to him, spread open for his taking.

She felt more than she heard him spit onto her, warm and wet. She clenched around nothing at the feeling.

Prodding at her entrance, he pushed into her warmth slowly, letting out a groan at the feeling of her walls squeezing him.

Her breath hitched at the fullness of it all and she swore she could feel him in her throat.

He pulled out so slowly, that she felt shivers run down her spine. He pushed back in harder, driving her up the bed.

A gasp left her as he sped up, pounding into her like his life depended on it. Kissing her cervix with every push in, it should have hurt, but all she felt was ecstasy.

As the stars rushed beneath her eyelids, she could feel that she was close again, but she needed a little bit more.

It seemed her beast-man could sense it too, and he brought his fingers down to draw tight circles around her clit.

Breathy high-pitched moans echoed in the dome, as she met her peak.

"Oh god, fuck. Yes, fuck."

She wasn't making sense anymore if she ever was. She clenched down on him, seizing up as waves of pleasure rolled over her.

In the vice grip of her cunt, he followed her over the cliff, grunting into her ear.

Lips pressed to the side of her head, he breathed into her hair as he came down from his orgasm.

As if the fog cleared, they looked at each other in a different light.

A softer light it seemed.

"I'm Sergei."

[acapelladitty]

Just a cute lil idea that’s stuck in my head even though it’s probably very out of character for the ghoul but cooper carrying reader through the wasteland when she has a fever and bonus point if he lets her wear his hat

Aye aye captain 🫡 have this little thing! 💋

And In Health

Pairing: Cooper Howard/Fem!Reader

Summary: Falling ill as you travel through the wastelands, Cooper is forced to take care of you. Sadly, not in the assassin way.

Fic Masterlist

Link to AO3

Dropping against the wooden information board which was too rotten and devoid of actual intel to be of use to anyone, your body chose to add to the mess surrounding the small board you as you drop your head to the side and vomit once again - the burn making your eyes water as you retch pathetically.

The fourth time you'd been sick that day, not that you were counting.

Having moved in silence for the last while, Cooper had been maintaining a rapid pace which you struggled to meet as your worsening condition hadn't proven too much of a hindrance until stopping for a moment had apparently allowed each element of your various ailments to assault you like a bonafide firing squad just waiting in the shadows.

"Not looking too hot, sweetie. Something you ate?"

"Probably." Groaning out the word, the taste of bile stings in your throat as you gaze up at him with bleary eyes. "Knew that meat you roasted up was foul."

Standing with a straightened spine, Cooper gazes back at you and you can feel the heat of his assessment like a host of ants crawling across your sweat-slicked skin.

"Didn't do me no harm. Quack doctor in the next town would have what we need for you to get that sweet ass back on the move. Chem, stim packs, hell - he probably has shit stowed away that even I wouldn't take. And that's a very, very small list."

Not trusting your voice as you keep your focus on breathing evenly, a sick hope alights in your gut as you blink up at Cooper and take in his contemplative musings.

"Can you walk?"

You shake your head carefully, every movement making your brain feel inflamed as even that small motion sparks fresh nausea in your throat.

Cooper grunts with displeasure at that, making no effort to hide his growing irritation with your pitiful state.

"Can you defend yourself here while I go and fetch what we need? That nasty little projectile skill you've developed there should keep the worst of the raiders and deathclaws away."

With inhumane effort, you raise your hand enough to flip him off very shakily before dropping your wrist back to your lap, the mild effort making your joint tremble and ache.

With a deep sign, Cooper shifts his body as he bends towards you. Strong hands lock around your frame as they pull you heavily to unsteady feet before swinging you up into his arms - the motion making you dry heave as you carefully tilt your head away from his body.

"Can't have you dying on me, sweetie. You owe me twenty caps after proving to be the shittiest gin rummy player I've ever had the misfortune to share a table with."

Held bridal-style against his chest, the little showcase of strength is enough to make you hum out an interested noise as his hands wrap around your knees and upper body. Borderline delirious as your vision swims and shakes, you swear you can hear the tiniest hint of genuine concern hidden beneath the sarcasm in his tone but you chalk it down to the ravages of infection.

The scent of him floods your senses as you tilt your head to push your face more roughly into his chest, desperately trying to block out the sun as it threatens to burn the life out of your eyes. Leather mixed with the definite tinge of coppery violence which always seems to hang around him is the most potent scent he usually carries but this close, with your nose practically touching his skin, you can pick up the faintest notes of sweat and natural musk which his lifestyle often hides.

"Coop-Cooper?"

"For someone on the brink of death you sure do seem to want to yap your hole a lot." Grumbling, he indulges you regardless as he begins to stride quickly in the direction of the town hosting the quack doctor he seems to know. "But what do you want?"

"Will...'m gonna die?"

"Oh, I doubt that. Too stubborn for sure. Why? You got a final request in mind? I don't sing so you're shit out of luck for a funeral chant."

Too out of it to think up anything witty as a comeback, a hiss escapes your lips as his head shifts and the sun glares down into your squinting face - the sudden brightness like an inferno alighting behind your sockets.

Sighing, Cooper bends his body enough to allow his curved knee to support your legs as his hand slips free from beneath your knees. In a single fluid movement, he pulls the weathered cowboy hat from his head and drops it across your eyes; the instant darkness soothing your pains a little as the scent of fresh sweat and leather swirls across your senses.

"Thank you." You squeak out your gratitude, the second word more of a noise than a word as Cooper slides his arm beneath your knees - once more pulling you close as he continues his journey.

The hat acting as a delightful barrier to the harsh rays of the sun as he refuses to acknowledge your thanks, your weakened grip on remaining conscious seems to flee you in an instant as you allow the steady beat of Cooper's heart to lull you into a restless nap.

[hearts-hunger]

omg why did that suck so bad??

let me say the pros first:

young mazino jesse is growing on me. he gets that responsible/sarcastic thing that game jesse has. and the fact that he is shown taking care of all of them in the end is very in character and nice for us to see.

gabriel luna once again slays as tommy. that kiss with maria, the longing???? god. i love him.

the fighting in jackson was a cool idea, would have enjoyed playing a sequence like that in the game, but overall the change hurts more than it helps.

okay that's about it for what i liked lmao! the cons:

where is my pot smoking lesbian love scene. what the fuck.

kaitlyn dever looks like a little kid, genuinely. and so does bella ramsey. kaitlyn has more emotional range than bella but neither of them can carry that rage and heartbreak. neither of them are raw and brutal like they are in the game. they're both trying too hard and it shows.

everything that was changed from the game was worse, and i believe that with my whole heart. why wasn't tommy with joel? the reason tommy goes as psycho as he does it because of the grief he has from introducing joel to abby. why didn't we get dina/ellie patrol route to further solidify their relationship? dina being at the lodge made no sense and added exactly nothing to the plot. why was ellie going to jump right back into patrols with joel? in the game she barely even spoke with him before he died, but in the show apparently they're good enough to just hang out now???

The Scene™ was simply not executed as masterfully as in the game. like, if it ain't broke, don't fix it. the colors were off (where is my cold, dark, shadowed death scene?), the stab was fucking pathetic compared to game abby's yell and final blow, owen didn't get a chance to do his "if we kill them we're no better than he is" which actually gives him a character trait. abby spent wayyyy too much time explaining everything to joel. and joel is like. crying? instead of spitting mad and sneering his way towards a death he always knew was coming. where's the RAGE???? it's all sanitized and therapy-speak and big feelings and sad girls and weak old men. it just doesn't hit as hard.

the show is trying so hard to make us sympathize with abby, even more than the game, and it's so forced as to feel stupid. also, side note, why is she housewifing for owen? she's a bitch to him in the game and i like that about her. why is she rubbing his arms and making him soup or whatever? not my muscle mommy.

no "bigot sandwich" line???? best line in the whole game???

anyways those are my thoughts, i'm sure i'll have more, but come talk with me about them if you want!

[its-avalon-08]

hello could I please request a Fernando x driver reader long one shot.: maybe where she’s Jules Bianchi or Sennas daughter and the whole trope of she fell first but he fell harder. It seems like he hates her or what ever lots of angst but then lots of fluff in the end please I’m dying for some nando stuff

The One That Got Away (Until She Didn’t) (fa14)

✦ pairing - fernando alonso x female!reader

✦ genre - enemies to lovers, angst, bianchi!daughter!reader, cute, fluff,

The roar of engines filled the paddock, drowning out any attempt at conversation. To Y/N Bianchi, that sound was home. She’d grown up hearing it from the sidelines, watching her father, Jules Bianchi, carve out a name for himself on the track. Now, it was her turn. And she was determined to do more than just live in her father’s shadow.

Y/N had proven herself time and time again in the lower categories, earning her place on the Formula 1 grid not as Jules’ daughter, but as Y/N Bianchi—talented in her own right. But there was one person who didn’t seem to care. One person who, no matter what she did, kept his distance. Cold. Detached. That person was Fernando Alonso.

She felt his eyes on her now as she adjusted her helmet before practice. His gaze was always there—burning holes into her, yet never engaging. It wasn’t admiration or respect. No, it was something darker. Disdain, maybe? Contempt?

Fernando Alonso, two-time world champion, one of the most experienced drivers on the grid, and the man she had admired since she was a child, seemed to hate her.

She wasn’t naive. She knew how the paddock worked. The comparisons to her father were inevitable, and she could deal with that. But Fernando’s icy attitude toward her went beyond mere skepticism. It was as though her very presence was an insult to him, a constant reminder of something she couldn’t quite understand.

“I don’t get him,” Y/N muttered to her race engineer, trying to shake off the uncomfortable feeling in her chest.

“Hm?” he asked, distracted as he went over the car’s setup for the session.

“Alonso,” she clarified, stealing a glance across the garage. Fernando was deep in conversation with his own team, but for just a second, his eyes flicked toward her, narrowing slightly before he turned away. “He acts like I don’t belong here.”

Her engineer chuckled. “Fernando’s like that with everyone. Don’t take it personally.”

But it was personal. She could feel it in the way he ignored her, never acknowledging her efforts on the track, never offering even a nod of recognition. Every interaction—or lack thereof—felt like a rejection. She’d tried to talk to him once or twice, but each time, he’d brushed her off, offering nothing more than curt one-liners before walking away.

But despite it all, Y/N couldn’t help the way her heart raced when he was near. She hated herself for it. Admiring someone who clearly couldn’t stand her? Pathetic. She’d spent her entire life learning how to shut out doubt, how to ignore the voices that told her she wasn’t enough. But with Fernando, it was different. His silence cut deeper than anyone’s words ever could.

Later that afternoon, the team debrief ended, and Y/N found herself lingering in the paddock, stretching the muscles in her neck after a long day of practice. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm orange glow over the scene, and most of the other drivers had already left. Except for Fernando.

She saw him leaning against the wall near his motorhome, scrolling through his phone, his face cast in shadows. Something in her snapped. The tension had been building for months now, and she was done pretending she didn’t notice his cold shoulder. She was done feeling like she had to prove herself to him.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N strode over, her boots scuffing the gravel beneath her feet. Fernando looked up as she approached, his expression unreadable, as usual.

“Can I help you?” he asked, his tone indifferent, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of annoyance.

Y/N crossed her arms, standing just a few feet away from him. “Why do you hate me?”

Fernando raised an eyebrow. “Hate you?” He pushed off the wall, slipping his phone into his pocket. “I don’t hate you.”

“Really? Because that’s sure what it feels like.” Her voice wavered slightly, but she held her ground. “Every time I’m near you, you act like I’m some kind of nuisance. You don’t talk to me. You don’t even look at me unless you’re judging me. So what is it? Do you think I don’t deserve to be here? Or is it because I’m Bianchi’s daughter and that makes me some kind of charity case?”

Fernando’s expression darkened. “Careful, Y/N.”

“No,” she shot back, frustration bubbling to the surface. “I’m tired of being careful. I’m tired of walking on eggshells around you. What’s your problem?”

For a moment, Fernando said nothing. His eyes flicked over her face, and something unfamiliar passed between them—an emotion she couldn’t quite place. Regret? Anger? No, it was something else. But before she could process it, Fernando spoke, his voice colder than she’d ever heard it.

“You think I care about what you do?” he asked, stepping closer. His presence was overwhelming, and she fought the instinct to step back. “You’re not special, Y/N. You’re just another driver, trying to make it. If you think I’m here to validate you, you’re wrong. I don’t owe you anything.”

The words hit her like a punch to the gut. But instead of backing down, she lifted her chin, defiance burning in her chest. “I never asked for your validation. I just wanted to understand why you go out of your way to make me feel like I don’t belong.”

Fernando’s jaw tightened. For a split second, it seemed like he wanted to say something else, something real, but then he simply turned away, shaking his head.

“Get used to it, Bianchi,” he muttered before walking past her, leaving her standing alone with nothing but the sinking feeling in her chest.

As Y/N watched him walk away, frustration and confusion swirled within her. Whatever was going on between them—whatever tension was brewing beneath the surface—it wasn’t just in her head. But as much as she hated to admit it, Fernando Alonso was an enigma she wasn’t sure she’d ever unravel.

And maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t ready to give up trying.

she tried yet another time.

“Do you have a problem with me?” Y/N stormed into the hospitality suite after another cold interaction.

Fernando didn’t look up from his cup of coffee. His jaw clenched, fingers tightening around the mug. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” She stepped closer, her voice cracking slightly. “Every time we’re in the same room, you act like I’m a ghost. Is it because of my father?”

At that, his head snapped up, eyes flashing. “Don’t bring him into this.”

“Why not? That’s what it is, right? You think I’m just trying to ride his coattails?” She was shaking now, all the pent-up emotions spilling out. “I’m not him, Fernando. I never will be. But I’m here because I’m good at this—because I deserve it. I’ve done everything I can to prove myself, to you—”

“You don’t need to prove anything to me,” he cut her off sharply, his voice low but dangerous. “I’m not your judge.”

“Then why do you treat me like I don’t exist? Like I’m nothing?”

There was silence. Fernando’s eyes darkened, the usual stoicism replaced with something… deeper. Anger? Pain?

“You don’t understand,” he finally muttered, standing abruptly and walking towards the door.

Y/N’s heart pounded. “Then help me understand.”

But he left without another word, leaving her standing alone, her heart heavier than ever.

time skip

Weeks passed, and the tension between them only grew. Y/N found herself dominating during races, yet her mind constantly swirling with thoughts of him. Every shared glance felt like a knife to her chest, but she couldn’t stop the feelings that had taken root deep inside.

Then, in one race, disaster struck. Y/N crashed. It wasn’t her fault, a freak incident, but the world spun around her as she crawled out of the wreckage, bruised and shaken. She couldn’t escape the memories of her father’s crash, the fear bubbling up.

She sat in the medical room, waiting for clearance, when Fernando stormed in.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he spat, eyes blazing with an intensity she’d never seen.

Y/N looked up, tears already welling in her eyes. “I didn’t—”

“You could have gotten yourself killed!” His voice broke, and that’s when she realized—he wasn’t just angry. He was scared.

“I’m fine,” she whispered, unsure if she was trying to convince herself or him.

“No, you’re not.” His hand came up to grip the back of his neck, the strain clear in his posture. “You’re reckless, Y/N. Just like him.”

The mention of her father felt like a slap. “Don’t you dare—”

“You think I’m pushing you away because I hate you?” He stepped closer, voice shaking. “It’s the opposite. I care too much.”

Her breath caught. “What?”

“You… you’re everywhere,” he continued, pacing now. “Every time I see you on the track, I think about how easily things can go wrong. About losing you. And I can’t—” He stopped, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I can’t lose you the way I lost him.”

Y/N’s heart raced, disbelief washing over her. “But… you’ve been so distant. You acted like you didn’t care at all.”

He let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “That’s because I’m a coward, Y/N. I thought if I kept you at a distance, I wouldn’t have to feel… this.”

She swallowed, her voice barely a whisper. “Feel what?”

Fernando took a deep breath, his hands dropping to his sides in defeat. “I’ve been falling for you since the day you arrived, but I was too damn scared to admit it.”

Y/N blinked, frozen in place. “You… you’re in love with me?”

“I didn’t want to be,” he admitted, his voice soft now, almost broken. “But I am. And every time you’re out there, I’m terrified.”

She stepped closer to him, her heart aching for the man in front of her. “You never had to push me away, Fernando. I’ve been in love with you for months.”

He looked at her, something shifting in his expression—like he’d finally allowed himself to feel everything he’d been holding back. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because it seemed like you hated me.”

He laughed, the sound bitter. “I could never hate you, Y/N.”

Without thinking, she closed the distance between them, her hand finding his. “Then don’t push me away anymore. Let me in.”

Fernando hesitated, but then, with a sigh of surrender, he pulled her into his arms, holding her like she might disappear if he let go. “I’m sorry,” he whispered against her hair. “I’m so damn sorry.”

She buried her face in his chest, tears of relief spilling down her cheeks. “You’re forgiven.”

time skip

From that day on, everything changed. The tension between them melted into something warmer, something real. Fernando was no longer the distant figure she’d admired from afar; he was hers, fully and completely.

They spent their days sneaking moments together in the paddock, quiet confessions whispered in between practice sessions. He would steal kisses when no one was looking, his usual stern demeanor softening only for her.

“You’re impossible,” she teased one evening as they sat on the balcony of their hotel room, watching the sun dip below the horizon.

“And yet, you love me,” he smirked, pulling her closer.

Y/N smiled, resting her head on his shoulder. “I do.”

Fernando’s arm tightened around her, his voice low but full of emotion. “You fell for me, Y/N. But I fell harder, you know?”

She chuckled. “Maybe. But I'm catching up.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, the weight of the world no longer pressing on either of them. “I’m never letting you go.”

And for the first time, Y/N believed him.