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sunlightmurdock · 4 months ago

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ain’t afraid of a little thunder | tyler owens

“now, sweetheart… I know you didn’t come crawling in here in the middle of the night,” his gaze flickers between your shadowed, sullen face and the way your sleep shirt ends at the middle of your thighs. “just because of a little thunder?”

warnings: minors dni, 18+. smut. unprotected pinv. oral (m+f). no physical descriptions of reader except some hair pulling mentioned.

…

Blinding white light flashes, spilling through and under the gaps in the curtains. The furniture is, at once, illuminated a ghastly white. The room remains still, aside from where you lay in your bed, tangled in sheets and breathing softly.

What comes next isn’t the rolling kind of thunder that usually spills across these parts, there’s nothing slow or melodic about it. It comes as an almighty clap, shaking the old farmhouse down to its foundations.

Seemingly spurred on by the sound, the wind joins the symphony by crashing into the window, slamming at the shutters and making the two panels swing wide open.

The storm howls now, spilling through these old walls and waking you with a start. You shoot upright in bed, eyes wide and heart thundering in your ears. Rain splatters on the worn floorboards as you look frantically around your childhood bedroom.

“Shit.” You huff out, hurling yourself out of the creaky, old metal-framed bed you had spent your teenage years in. You stumble towards the whirling wind and wrestle the window shut, snapping the latch shut once again.

You had been jolted so violently from your dreams that you aren’t even sure your eyes are open until you’re staring at streaks of lightning painting the dark sky. With a trembling hand, you reach for the edge of the curtain and pull it back across the window.

Even with your view gone, as you slip back into bed it’s impossible to pretend that the storm isn’t happening. It whips at the house, making the foundations creak and groan. Every few seconds, the sky will streak bright white and will roar with another clap of thunder.

Eyes squeezed shut and the sheets pulled high isn’t cutting it. The weather rages just beyond these four walls, refusing to be ignored. Your heart thunders along with the bellowing horizon.

You toss onto your left side. Then your right. A frustrated sound slips your lips as you thrash onto your back. It’s like the storm is just getting worse. Closer.

Each flash of lightning feels brighter. Each clap of thunder feels louder. You tremble under the confines of your comforter, lips pursed. You shoot a quick look toward the little digital alarm clock on your night stand. 1:55.

Panic flares in your chest. You remember being small in this room, terrified of these same storms. The nights where you would tear out of bed and race down the hall to the safety of your parents’ bed.

You’re a little old for that now, and they chose this week of all to be vacationing at Niagara Falls.

You pull the blankets tighter around yourself, momentarily blinded by the prospect of being alone in this big, rickety house all by yourself in the path of a storm — you’re miles away from help reaching you.

But you aren’t all alone.

After a tough few days of field work, you had opened your doors — well, your parents’ doors — to a… colleague, of sorts. If that’s what you could call Tyler. You had a common goal, and he needed a place to stay while the two of you got some work done, that was all. It was easier than sending him to the motel an hour away.

He’s down the hall, probably sleeping like a baby, in the guest room.

You couldn’t possibly wake him. He would hold it over your head for the rest of your life. You would never live it down. Being a meteorologist who can’t sleep through a little—

Storm.

It’s that last, tremendous crash of thunder that sends you flying, once again, out of your childhood bed as it rattles the house. You’re cursing yourself under your breath already as you pad, barefoot down the hallway.

Past pictures of yourself missing teeth and grinning, sporting pigtails and wearing overalls — all images of yourself that you would rather the famed ‘Tornado Wrangler’ himself hadn’t seen.

The only thing that stops you is a brief moment in front of the door to the guest room, where you stand debating whether it would be better to knock or to just slip in and hope that he doesn’t even notice you.

You should knock. He could be naked. Shit.

Swallowing both your pride and the lump of solid anxiety in your throat, you close your eyes and rap your knuckles softly against the door. Maybe he doesn’t hear you over the storm, or maybe he’s just a deep sleeper, but he doesn’t answer.

You should leave him alone.

But you can’t stand the thought of being by yourself through this. What if it’s something big? — You should have checked the radar.

You’re already twisting the doorknob, as slow as you can. It complies silently, the door slipping open without a peep. You would have gotten away with it, if you had thought about the light in the hall.

You get a glimpse of him while he’s still asleep. Sprawled out across the bed, laying on his back on the side closest to the door, his hair mussed and his face turned away from you. Curtains wide open, still. His clothes are thrown on the chair in the corner. The sheets are slung low on his waist. A flash of lightning illuminates the ridges through the golden skin of his abdomen.

Then, that darned light from the hallway casts across his face and wakes him. He stirs, groaning in soft complaint as he lifts his head from the pillow and blinks angrily in your direction.

He says your name, his voice deep and growly from sleep. His tone vaguely suggests that he’s checking if it’s really you, but you’re too distracted to answer him.

Tyler twists his neck and looks around for a clock, pushing himself up just a little and letting the sheets fall to reveal the waistband of his navy boxers. “What time is it?”

“Late. Sorry,” You mumble out, still standing in his wide-open doorway like an idiot. “You should go back to sleep.”

His brows knit together as he turns his head to look at you again. Grumpy looks good on him. Especially when he’s laying in bed, his hair disheveled and his clothes on the floor.

He presses the base of his palm into his eye socket, every bit as disgruntled as he looks as he rubs the sleep away with his big hands.

“You gonna stand there and watch me all night if I do?”

Your immediate reaction is to put your hackles up and get defensive at the accusation, like that’s not kind of exactly how the situation would appear to him.

“No, I just… I couldn’t sleep.” Your answer isn’t really an answer at all. Tyler reminds you of this by simply raising his eyebrows, as if to say ‘and what might that have to do with me?’. You shrug your shoulders. “I was just coming to see if— if you were up.”

“I am now.” Tyler offers. “What did you want?”

Desperately to go back to sleep. You’re exhausted. These past few days have been some of the hardest of your life — and here you are, unable to sleep, trying to find a bed to sleep in, like a child.

You stand there, debating for a moment if you’re going to come clean. It would be easy enough to just admit your irrational little fear and crawl into bed, and deal with the constant teasing from then on.

Unfortunately, your body makes the decision for you. Thunder and lightning crash together, shaking the house once again. The rain whipping at the shutters does nothing to conceal the gasp-bordering-shriek that slips your lips as you jump and rush into the room.

Tyler’s eyes widen through the dark. His gaze is quizzical as he studies the abject panic on your face, then looks to his window. Then, he looks slowly back to you.

His mouth twitches. Excitement flashes across his face with a burst of lightning as a grin twists at his mouth.

“Now, sweetheart… I know you didn’t come crawling in here in the middle of the night,” His gaze flickers between your shadowed, sullen face and the way your sleep shirt ends at the tops of your thighs. “Just because of a little thunder?”

“Don’t be a dick about it — I know it’s ridiculous, I just can’t sleep.” You rush out, folding your arms across your chest. As you do so, your shirt bunches and rides up just enough to prove that you are, in fact, not wearing any shorts. He’d been wondering about that.

As he studies your face for the next few moments, you can see that he considers being a dick — and decides against it.

He holds his palms up in surrender, and shrugs his shoulders as he peels back the other side of the covers. Amusement coats his words as he drawls a playful, “Well, why didn’t you say so?”

Closing the door to the hallway, the room is plunged into darkness once again. You trudge around to the other side of the bed, begrudging every moment of this ridiculous night. You should have had him sleep in the barn like you had threatened to. But then you really would be all alone in this big old house.

His eyes follow your silhouette around the foot of the bed, as the sky flashes white once more he takes note of the way your cute graphic tee sits a little higher in the back, giving him just the smallest glimpse of where your thighs meet the swell of your ass.

He waits for you to reach the bed and set one knee on before he goes back to trying to rest. He lays down on his back and closes his eyes as the bed shifts slightly with your weight and the covers wriggle around with your movement.

Then, things settle.

The bed goes still, and so do the both of you as you lay side by side in it. It’s not an especially large double, but the two of you both seem to be choosing to ignore the way his warm shoulder is pressed right up against yours.

It’s just his shoulder. His bare shoulder, sure, but it’s not like you could ask him to put some clothes on — you’re the one who came crawling into his bed in your underwear. You’re just grateful that there’s just about enough room for the rest of you to not graze him at all.

You close your eyes, and inhale deeply. This whole house usually smells like lavender and vanilla, but not now. This room smells like spiced oak and pine, and the familiar smell of his cologne lingers on his clothes, his belongings— his bare skin.

His voice cuts through the dark. “So, you’re not like a bedwetter or anything, right? — D’your parents usually like give you a stuffed animal to get through this kind of thing, or—“

You reach out and smack him hard in his stomach. His hard, taught stomach. “Shut it, Owens.”

The bed rattles with his soft laughter.

“I just— I’m blindsided,” He admits, still laughing. He tucks an arm behind his head, meaning your shoulder now sits in the curve of his underarm. “You’re afraid of thunder.”

You throw yourself onto your side, turning swiftly away from him and tugging away his share of covers just out of spite. “No one will ever believe you. I’ll tell them you’re crazy.”

He grins in the dark.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m not gonna tattle on you — you have no idea how much I’m enjoying being the only person who knows that Little Miss ‘Do As I Say’ gets this rattled over a little rain.”

You roll your eyes, then close them. “Goodnight, Tyler.”

The bed shakes again with another bout of his quiet laughter. “Yeah, g’night, honey.”

The pet names are going to be put to an abrupt end first thing tomorrow morning. You’re going to give him hell before he even gets a chance to open his stupid, pretty mouth. Until then, you have to keep yourself from doing anything that might have you exiled back to your own room.

Once again, the room settles. The rain whips at the windows, soaking the soil outside. Thunder rumbles closer again, but the lightning flashes don’t seem quite so bright.

You focus on the sound of him breathing. Deep, slow inhales. He’s calm as could be, his weight pressing into the mattress and his body heat radiating under the shared covers. Uncomfortable on your right side but not wanting to be facing him, you roll onto your back.

Unconsciously a few moments later, you roll back onto your right side. Maybe then your left side. After that, your back again. Then your front.

As you sigh and twist, Tyler sucks in a sharp breath from beside you.

“God damn, will you sit still? — You’re gonna spin yourself out of this bed.” It’s not until he’s done complaining that you realize he’s now holding you. His arm is secured tight enough around your middle that you couldn’t roll over again, even if you wanted to. Facing away from him, your eyes stare at the painted wall.

He huffs, closing his eyes and flexing his arm around you as he drags you closer.

“Go to sleep.” He mumbles groggily, his breath tickling at the nape of your neck.

Well, if you were struggling before, then the sentiment is entirely hopeless now.

You lie awake, watching the sky crackle and glow with flashes of colour. Tyler lies with you, feeling you flinch at every boom that follows.

He shifts suddenly behind you, feeling you go rigid.

“This thing really has you spooked, doesn’t it?” His fingers sprawl across your covered stomach, his voice coated with a softness you weren’t expecting. You feel him lift his head and peer over your shoulder, trying to get a look at your face.

“No.” You bite back, trying to tug yourself free from his hold and shift closer to the edge of the bed. You’ll be hanging off of the side if you keep this up.

“Here, c’mere,” Tyler murmurs, catching your bicep and turning you back around. Your brows furrow and your face grows stormy, and he can just tell that you’re batting up to argue with him.

He opens both of his arms and wraps them around you at once, giving you no choice but to squish against his chest. Your eyes squeeze open as he presses his lips to your hairline. “It’s alright, you’re alright.”

You stare at the freckle on his neck up close as his fingers stroke at the length of your trembling spine, frozen.

“Listen,” He mumbles against your hair as another clap of thunder tears across the sky. “Two, three, four, five — it’s already getting further away. Was just passing us by.”

“I know that.” You mumble begrudgingly against his chest, hating the way your fingers instinctively splay across his bare ribs.

Quiet falls between the two of you. You get it, he’s just trying to help — and frankly you are being a little ridiculous. He gets it, sometimes there’s no explaining fear. It’s just there.

His fingers stop at the base of your spine, disrupting the soft pattern he had going. Just for a moment, before he skims them all the way to the nape of your neck and curls them around the curve of your shoulder.

Once again, his mouth grazes your temple. Barely a kiss. Maybe even something platonic. He’s just trying to settle you. But then, there doesn’t feel like there’s much platonic about the way you’re wrapped together.

“It’s alright,” He murmurs. You can feel the rumble of his voice in your chest as he gives your nape a soft squeeze. “Breathe with me.”

Tyler takes long, deep breaths. Slow, and steady, but not patronizing. The kind that make you feel a dizzy kind of sleepy. You could fall asleep just like this, wrapped in his arms and copying his breaths, but you won’t let yourself.

You dip your head forwards just a fraction, and press your lips to his bare shoulder. It’s small, and again barely a kiss, maybe even something platonic. Just like his was. He doesn’t say anything about it, and the quiet continues for a little longer.

His thumb strokes at the column of your throat as he leans in, turning his nose towards your hair. “That’s it.”

You turn your head too, closing your lips softly around his collarbone. This one’s an inch less polite than the others, just a bit more daring, but still easy to misunderstand.

Opening up your palm, you trail your nails along his side, brushing softly from his ribs to his hips. Then, you stretch your neck and reach higher.

His fingers squeeze at your nape as your lips close against his throat. His free hand comes from its resting place against the sheets to curl around your thigh.

The tip of your nose bumps his chin in passing, he looks down while you look up until your eyes are locked together through the dark.

You would never live this down. Your work is too important to risk it all by— he’s kissing you before you’re done arguing with yourself, and your mind is made up.

His stubble scrubs at your cheek as he presses against you, capturing your mouth with his, kneading at his hold on your thigh.

Your palm presses into the muscle of his back, firm and pulling him against you. You’re the one who hikes your thigh around his hip. He’s the one who twists the two of you and plants you firmly on your back between the pillows.

And then, you’re looking at each other again.

Lightning flashes across the sky, making his green eyes glow emerald for a moment. They search across your face while his hands take hold of your hips.

He looks at you in a way he never has before, all those days working together, his eyes hungry with lust. The intensity in those pretty, green eyes sends shocks of electricity up your spine.

“Just for tonight, and we never speak of this again.” You breathe, eyes wide as you stare up at him. Tyler’s lips twitch.

“You’re gonna regret those terms.” He promises, letting that cocky grin of his twist across his mouth, raising his brows in challenge. You swallow, narrowing your eyes back at him. “But, sure. Whatever you say.”

Right as you’re starting to think that maybe this isn’t worth its risk, he leans forwards and turns your head to the side, closing his mouth around your pulse point.

His teeth graze against the spot, just sharp enough of a sting to make you gasp before he’s pressing against you harder, kissing harder, soothing his mark with his tongue.

The tip of his angled nose bumps the curve of your jaw, his stubble scratching at your sensitive skin. You hike your leg higher around his waist, pressing your foot into his thigh. His tongue dips from between his lips, flicking across your jugular before he captures the spot with his mouth.

Your fingers curl around his neck, squeezing at his nape, holding his mouth against your throat. A moan slips your lips as his teeth graze over your skin. He sucks a firm kiss into the spot below your ear.

He hums as your fingers slide up into his hair, rewarding you with another open-mouthed kiss in a spot that makes you squirm. Your eyes close contentedly as his mouth works against the smooth skin there.

When the next crash of thunder shakes the foundations, you almost forget to flinch.

Tyler twists his head sharply and with a sudden, mutual urgency, you crash together. He pulls you flush against him, sliding his tongue into your mouth and caressing it expertly against yours.

Then, his attention turns to the large, old local team jersey you had worn to bed. It was the first thing you had found in your closet. He doesn’t seem to care, bunching it around your middle and tugging you forwards to lift it over your head.

Lightning strikes as the jersey hits the floor. As his knees sit between your thighs, Tyler studies your body. He has thought about this before, what you might look like under all that office-wear. His imagination doesn’t compare.

He sits back on his knees, cupping his palm over the tent straining against his boxer-briefs. Your gaze flickers downward, eye-lids drooping with want as you watch him palm a hand over his cock.

“Don’t move.” He mumbles, reaching out to settle his other hand against the soft curve of your bare waist. It’s clear that he has a plan in his head, you can practically hear the gears turning as his darkened eyes study your body.

Stroking himself carelessly, he drops his hand to the inside of your thigh and pushes it back just a bit. Then, Tyler groans as he lowers his mouth to your chest. One of his warm, weathered hands comes up to caress your breast while his mouth cares for the other.

He kisses softly over the swell of skin, more gentle than you would have expected someone like him to be. He glances up at you as he purses his lips and blows softly, fanning cool air against your already half-hardened nipple.

Then, that talented tongue dips from his lips again, and traces the colour of your nipple, flicking back and forth across the bud before he finally closes his mouth around it.

Your head sinks into the pillows as your chest arches eagerly toward his kisses. Moans spill from your lips, and you just know that you’ll be soaked by the time he finally touches you.

He doesn’t keep you waiting long. Amidst his parade of kisses, as he’s approaching your navel, his hand dips between your legs. You almost flinch at the contact, keening into his touch instead.

His fingertips are featherlight, trailing the seams of your underwear where they sit between your thighs. His thumb presses firmer, experimentally sliding between your folds.

Taking your bottom lip between your teeth, you glance down as he looks up at you. His mouth twists as your excitement spills through the lace against the pad of his thumb.

This is most definitely territory that neither one of you have business venturing into. It’s certainly going to make your next venture a little bit more tense than usual. The irony of it being your common venture that had led you here isn’t lost on either of you either.

Tyler makes it known that he has every intention of bringing his usual cockiness to this encounter, smirking as he presses his mouth to your hipbone, circling his thumb softly over your clit.

Bright, white lightning streaks again outside the window. It bathes the farm you grew up on in sudden, harsh light. The rumble of thunder doesn’t come until Tyler’s sucking a mark into the inside of your thigh— he was right, it is getting further away.

And he’s getting closer.

You gasp sharply as he opens his lips and dives forwards, mouthing at your soaked core through the flimsy constraints of your lace underwear.

The next streak of lightning catches all of the shadows in the muscles of his back, working and flexing as he peels your underwear down your thighs. He kisses the length of your legs, nipping and biting as he goes, tossing the lace to some far corner of the room as soon as he’s done.

Your fingers shoot into his hair, squeezing firmly as he buries his face between your legs. Eager and animalistic, he sucks and licks, holding your thighs over his strong shoulders. You shudder. He groans as you tug at his sandy roots.

As you have found with everything else he does, Tyler’s ginormous ego seems to be well-founded. He has every bit the right to be so confident.

Though, you’ll never admit that outside of these four walls.

He doesn’t need you to. The way your body thrashes and arches against his mouth tells him all he needs to know.

You hum softly like you haven’t been moaning openly into the chilled room, tugging at his short locks once again. He groans into your excitement. At once, ring finger slides into you alongside his middle. He curls them both into you.

The sharp gasp it draws from you goes straight to his cock, eliciting another deep groan from his chest as he grinds himself against the patterned sheets.

All you can do is breathe, heels pressing into the mattress as you chase his mouth. Unhindered whimpers spilling from your lips as he works his fingers into you. It feels better than good. Incredible, even.

For the sake of your dignity, you’re grateful to lack the ability to tell him how good this feels.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” Tyler takes a break to nip at your thighs and coax you towards the finish line you’re already desperate to cross. He looks up at you from between your legs. Your head is thrown back into the pillows, your muscles tensed and trembling. You’re fucking yourself on his fingers. “Take what you need. You gonna get yourself there?”

Then, he leans down and licks one stripe along your core, making you cry out. “Or you need me to do it for you?”

“God, you’re an asshole,” You rush out, brows furrowing in concentration as you desperately chase that high. He chuckles softly, leaving you hanging as he waits for your answer. “Yes! Alright? — I need you.”

Tyler takes that answer with delight, pinning your thigh back against your middle with sudden strength as his fingers twist into you. You shiver as his mouth takes charge once again.

It doesn’t take him long to blind you with your orgasm, your eyes balled shut so tight that you’re seeing stars. You’re trembling as he’s kissing across your stomach

He licks his lips, still grinning as you drag his glistening mouth back to yours. Meeting you with exactly the same fervor, rolling his hips into yours. You groan at the gentle scratch of his stubble, holding him close.

“Fuck me.” You mumble against his lips, trying to reach between your bodies to push down his boxer-briefs. Your fingertips graze his straining cock, stilling immediately. You glance down, eyes wide as you take note of his size.

“I don’t have a condom.” He mumbles back, kissing you hard before you have enough time to comment on what he’s been packing beneath that stupid, huge buckle this whole time.

“You— You don’t?” You pant, trailing your nails down his back as he sucks at your throat.

“Didn’t think I’d be needing one.” His hands skim up your middle and grab at your tits together, kneading them in his capable hands. He drops his head to suck at the tops of them, his stubbled cheeks scratching at the sensitive skin in the best way.

You almost growl in frustration, thighs trying to clamp together around his hips. You don’t want the night to end here.

“I’m on birth control. If you’re—“

“I’m responsible, we’re good.” Tyler swears, flicking his tongue across your pebbled nipple. “If that’s what you want, baby. You want me bare?”

Your core throbs at his deep voice, so close and so filthy.

“Yes.” You whisper, arching your chest into his mouth as he turns his head to pay equal attention to your other breast. “Fuck, yes.”

He finally pays himself some attention, sitting back on his knees and dipping his hand into his boxers. Your lips part, watching through lust-hooded eyes as he fists at his cock from between your legs.

“Take them off.” You demand, more urgently than you’ve been before. Tyler’s lips twitch, but you’re not letting him have this one without playing first. “You’re not shy, are you?”

He rolls his shoulders back, giving a slow and certain shake of his head. No, of course he isn’t shy. Why would he be?

Your mouth goes dry as he pushes the boxers down his thighs and kicks them off of the bed. His cock springs free, standing to attention against the trail of sandy brown hair that trails Tyler’s navel.

It’s impressive, and pink at the tip. Annoyingly as pretty as the rest of him is.

He looks carved from stone, kneeling between your legs with broad shoulders and a chiseled chest. Hair sprawling across his pecs neatly, and just down his sternum. The same kind of pretty light brown as his hair. Angled hipbones. He’s defined all over, with strong thighs to match.

“You have no fuckin’ clue how long I’ve been wanting to do this.” Tyler’s admission catches you by surprise, and the shock of it is just registering in your system as he leans down and covers your body with his.

His weight leaning against you feels better than you’d like to admit, caging you in. The storm feels far, far away.

The tip of his cock notches at your entrance and you forget all of the doubts you just had about what he had said.

“So, do it. Please,” You breathe out, turning your face towards his neck, kissing the vein that trails there. “I want it.”

Tyler revels in the desperate sound you make as he drags his cock between your folds, his lip between his teeth as he watches the tip sink into you. He really has been waiting a long time for this.

He had made the effort in the beginning, tested your boundaries and swung by your motel rooms every now and again. Every interaction you’ve had has been strictly professional, and he wasn’t going to keep chasing someone who didn’t want to be chased.

As your walls squeeze him tight and your mouth sucks at the column of his throat— fuck, he wishes he had chased a little harder.

You roll your hips into his eagerly, gasping as he pulls almost all the way out and drives back in. You trail your nails along his shoulders, squeezing your thighs around his hips. Thunder rumbles somewhere far away, deep and low like the sounds of Tyler’s groans.

“You feel like you’re fucking made for me.” He mutters, pressing his fingertips into the supple flesh of your ass as he hugs you as close as he possibly can. Buried in you as deeply as he possibly can be, he stills for a moment and pants hard.

You make an incoherent sound of vague agreement, nipping at the curve of his jaw as you rake your nails along his shoulder. He groans at the feeling, his hips stuttering.

Pulling out slowly one last time, Tyler glances down at where the two of you are joined. A muscle in his jaw ticks as he buries himself into you once again, hard this time. Then, he’s relentless, dragging against your walls as he bottoms out again and again.

The old bed creaks in complaint under the two of you, but it’s the furthest thing from your mind as your moans threaten to muffle the sound all together.

The sky rumbles again, another loud clap of thunder making your eyes snap open. Breathless, your head whips towards the window. You watch the streaks of lightning paint the sky shades of electric blue and white.

Again, that irrational feeling starts to gnaw at you.

Tyler’s fingers curl around your chin, turning you back to face him.

“Look at me,” He orders, giving a sharp snap of his hips and revelling in the way it makes your mouth fall open. “I’ve got you. Just keep looking at me.”

Dumbly, you nod your head. Your fingertips skim the ridges of muscle in his arms. Warm and strong under your touch, his body surrounds yours. His green eyes are focused and unwavering, his hands anchoring your hips to the bed.

There’s no room left for that stupid, irrational feeling. It’s all him. Fucking into you, and staring down at you, weighing you down into the creaky mattress.

You arch your back, pushing your chest up against his as he fills you up. Tyler’s hand abandons your hip to hook around the back of your shoulders, grabbing a firm fistful of your hair.

His other hand shoves hard at the back of your thigh, bending it up and out of his way. Your ankle rests against his shoulder, your mind going blank as this new position allows him to angle himself deeper.

“Fuck— Tyler.” You whimper, eyes wide as you look up at him.

His hand flexes around your roots, tugging hard and making you cry out. You muffle yourself in the crook of his neck, kissing at his salty skin.

“I’m gonna come.” You breathe out.

“Yeah?” He murmurs, lips grazing your ear as his thrusts grow deep and fast. “Go ahead, pretty girl. Make yourself come on me.”

You don’t need to be told twice, grabbing onto his shoulder for leverage with one hand as the other dips between your colliding bodies.

His mouth is hot against your throat as you circle your clit, his deep and desperate groans filling your ears, the smell of his sweat and faint cologne making you want to bury closer to him.

It isn’t long before you’re spilling over that edge. You bite at his throat, moaning at the way he keens desperately into the feeling. Your thighs squeeze around him, trembling through the feeling. Your fingers scramble for purchase against his bicep.

Tyler grunts hard as your body tenses all over, your walls squeezing him tight. His pace stutters just briefly, then picks up. Your brain feels like mush, your eyes rolling back as he fucks you hard.

His head falls forwards, resting against your collarbone as he cums hard. His fingers flex around both your thigh, and the nape of your next, his voice strained as he groans. His chest heaves with his next few breaths.

You sigh, contented as you turn your face towards his neck and close your eyes. He lingers there for a moment, covering you like a blanket, gently stroking the spots he had grabbed so tightly moments before.

Then, he pulls out of you with a sigh and turns to flop onto his back. You’re surprised as he drags you with him, eyes wide at the prospect of the famed ‘Tornado Wrangler’ being a cuddler of all things.

He turns your head toward him, wasting no time in capturing your mouth with his. “How are you feeling?”

You smile hazily, turning your face towards his bare shoulder for a moment. “Tired.”

He chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. The two of you lie there for a few moments, catching your breath and enjoying the comfortable silence. His fingers trail the length of your spine, swirling soft patterns into your skin.

You almost let yourself fall asleep like that. He makes room for you to get up and watches you walk away as you excuse yourself to the bathroom.

He’s silent, but there’s a smile on his face when you slide back into his bed instead of your own.

When the sun-rises and pours through the window, it wakes you first. You would complain about the curtains being wide open and the lack of sleep you had managed to get through the night, but it’s hard to when you turn and admire your view.

Tyler is asleep on his back, one arm outstretched toward you. You had been sleeping on top of it. The sheets are strewn messily around his middle and there’s a distinct purple mark at the base of his throat, a reminder of where your mouth had been.

His chest rises and falls steadily, his face calm. His hair is still disheveled, another reminder from last night. He looks even more beautiful in the daylight.

Then, you remember what you said. Never again. How he had promised you would regret those terms— and you already do, thinking of how you’d like to wake him and repeat last night.

Unprompted, Tyler stirs in his sleep. In doing so, he shifts his hips and announces his morning wood as it stands against the sheets.

Given that you’re still in the same room, and it’s still technically the same day, this surely doesn’t count as a separate encounter. Your terms could still stand, you reason with yourself as you lean down and kiss his shoulder.

He doesn’t flinch. In fact, he doesn’t stir at all as you kiss your way down his muscled chest.

His brows knit together as he starts to come to. He blinks through the abrupt morning light, squinting at the brightness as he remembers where he is. He jolts at the feeling of you mouthing along the length of his cock, eyes going wide.

He takes note, then, of the shape under the covers that sits between his legs. He peels them back slowly, meeting your gaze as you kiss his tip.

“Good morning.” You greet him cheekily.

Tyler quirks a brow, but smiles. He shifts his hips and tucks a flexing bicep behind his head, settling back down against the pillows.

“It is now.”

#Tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #Tyler owens x you #twisters #Tyler owens fic #Glen powell

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munefille · 2 months ago

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thinking about a yandere!creature who deceptively looks angelic pretending to be your guardian angel after you mistake him for one.

𝙻𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚎 is an anomaly to his kind due to his unnatural white hair and wings, a disadvantage to night stalkers who aim to hide in the shadows. Ostracization from an already elusive species of winged beasts has led him to grow resentful, a seed of vitriolic bitterness slithering its way through him like a poison. A violent demeanor bestows him, slaughtering mercilessly to find retribution for his ghastly appearance, a trait he sees as his ultimate flaw.

Until he meets you; a human who's never seen such a beautiful creature. There was something hypnotizing about him, cold and blazing like the moon that commands the tides. The first words he whispers towards you, Be not afraid, cements the idea that an angel has truly come upon you.

Instead of disgust at his abnormality, you show him a kindness he has never known from his own. You invite him into your home with veneration, share stories of your life, ask him if he's there to watch over you. When you look up at him with those eyes full of naive faith, trusting him so sincerely, he finds maybe he can play along.

Yes, he'll take care of those townspeople who have been bothering you. Watchful eyes following you in the dark become your new norm.

He'll never admit that he's not from heaven. He won't tell you that he's never met your God. May you never know the blood he has spilled to spite his wretched existence. He'll keep up the lie as long as he gets to be your guardian angel, as long as you see him as the light in your life.

With you his flesh feels less cursed, with you he feels sacred.

After all, what is an angel without a god?

#monster x reader #yandere monster x reader #yandere x reader #yandere male #monster oc #oc x reader #teratophillia #yandere drabble #x reader #yandere oc #lorne the forsaken

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seonghwaddict · 7 months ago

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to taint your soul — choi san

in which apparently even the daughter of an exorcist is not safe from the corruption of an incubus.

incubus!choi san x exorcist’s daughter!fem!reader. genre. smut, angst, southern gothic vibes. warnings. barely any plot, religious themes, religious guilt, swearing, explicit sexual content mdni, corruption, loss of virginity, masturbation (f.), referenced dacryphilia, fingering, referenced oral (f.), manhandling?, multiple orgasms, rough and gentle, big dick!san, creampie, marking, nicknames (angel, pretty girl, sweet girl, sweetheart). wc. 7.3k. rating. mature.

lilo’s notes. i should do more mythological characters!ateez cuz i enjoyed writing this and the lamb and the wolf. the demonology book/text here is partially from The Encylopedia of Demons and Demonology by Rosemary Ellen Guiley, but i made up some parts for the sake of the story. THIS FIC DOES NOT REPRESENT ANY OF MY OPINIONS AND I DO NOT INTEND TO OFFEND ANYONE.

listening to. burning desire, lana del rey // gibson girl, ethel cain // lilies, ethel cain & mercy necromancy // ptolemaea, ethel cain // heaven, taemin

masterlist.

you were cursed from the moment you were born.

the idea of being cursed or haunted by anything isn’t one you think about often, considering yourself protected by your father’s profession. at least one dusty bible on every bookshelf in the colonial monstrosity that is your home and crucifixes hung all around, it seems to be common sense that an exorcist’s home would be the safest place to hide from the dark.

unaware of it all, you used to let yourself be tucked into your lace-trimmed bedsheets as he pulled you to sleep with stories. tales of fallen angels and possessed souls became the lullabies of your childhood. admittedly, you were quite terrified of it all, but as you grew older and wiser, you realised there was no way they could get to you. but really, it was wishful thinking.

you weren’t aware of who your father used to be, nor were you aware of the debt he owed to a particular demon.

the dreams started the night after your twentieth birthday, vivid and unsettling. a man haunted them, equally as terrifying as he was handsome. tall and clad in dark silks, his whispered words and hungry eyes intrigued you. his touch, though a figment of your imagination, sent shivers down your spine, foreign yet infinitely alluring. you’d wake up with a jolt, panting, flushed cheeks and tingling skin as the dream stuck to you like cobwebs. your father passed the repeated dreams off as nightmares and you failed to notice the flash of fear cross his features.

one night, however, you were changing in your room. dimly illuminated by multiple candles you set around since you didn’t like how bright the large chandelier was, you held a dress in each of your hands, standing in front of the mirror as you held the clothing to your body in an attempt to figure out what to wear. you didn’t notice at first, but a figure lurked in the shadows of the bedroom. you didn’t notice the shift in the atmosphere or the flicker of the candles.

but soon, a soft sigh sounded through the room, so soft it could’ve been mistake for a whistling breeze outside your window. goosebumps prickled at your skin as you tensed, refusing to move at the oddly human sound. staring at yourself in the mirror intently, you caught a glimpse of a familiar face in the reflection of your mirror. your breath hitched as you fixed your eyes on him, afraid that if you blinked, he’d disappear.

you watched him. watched him take slow steps towards you as he smirked at the sight of your wide, fearful yet infinitely pure and innocent eyes. you convinced yourself you were hallucinating, the disturbingly realistic sounds of his footsteps as much of a figment of imagination as his being. but as he stood right behind you, a coldness swept over your skin and you flinched as his breath fanned against your bare shoulder. whipping around in surprise, you yelped softly at the sensation. but he was gone, and you were alone. breath erratic and eyes stinging, you scrambled to move a wooden cross stand from the top of your dresser to your bedside table.

after that you grew paranoid, always looking over your shoulder, sleeping with at least two safe and reliable candles lit. each time you walked through the hallways of your own home, you kept your gaze fixed on the ground, refusing to look at the portraits lining the dark walls as you thought they were watching you. the tiniest of sounds made you flinch and break a sweat, squeezing your eyes shut and muttering prayers, only to find out the sound came from either of your parents.

the constant state of fear and anxiety left you tired, deciding if your father wasn’t going to do anything about it, you would. on quiet feet, you crept through the halls at noon (you were too scared to go to that room at night), a rosary wrapped around your hand with a dainty little cross hanging from your clenched palm.

you father really was a well-known exorcist, often to go on trips within and beyond the country to treat what doctors couldn’t; demonic possessions. as a symbol of his successes and a means to prevent others from coming in contact with whatever a demon may have attached itself to, he brought home trophies and locked them in a little storage room in the basement. of course, he took many precautions—crucifixes all over the inside and outside, sprinkles of holy water here and there, he’d have your local priest come over and bless the area himself. despite all this, you never once stepped in, partially because your father advised you not to, mostly because you were completely and utterly terrified.

as you descended the creaking wooden stairs, a chill ran through you, the hairs at your nape standing in alert. maybe you were scaring yourself more than the room scared you. the dust tickled your nostrils, making you force down a sneeze as you cleared your throat. the wooden floorboards extended into a narrow hallway, lined by cobblestone walls. you rarely came down, in fact, you couldn’t remember the last time you were there, the surroundings seeming so foreign. there were only two doors, one leading to a storage closet and the other to a slightly scarier storage closet.

you stared up at the ominous door, standing tall and intimidating, a golden cross embossed right in the centra, doorknob dark and rusted. with shaky hands, you fished a copper from the hidden pocket of your plaid gown. it half-hearted a few sloppy attempts until you got the key in, squeezing your eyes shut as you force yourself to finally turn it.

another chill ran through your body as you push the door open weakly, cracking an eye open to look inside. had you come at night, you wouldn’t have been able to see anything, the only source of light being an elongated shirt window lining the top of the right wall, an inch below the ceiling. three shelves. one on the right, one of the left, and one down the middle of the room. the middle and left one were lined with various objects. you walked between them, looking but not daring to touch. the objects were quite diverse, you realised. dolls, clocks, little statues.

you took your time to get to the shelf you needed. along with these objects, you father also locked away any books he had that were related to demons in any way. most of them were confiscated from cults, some of their were from his personal collection. he claimed they were to protect you, and you didn’t completely disbelieve him. taking a deep breath before letting it out in a sigh, looking at all the titles. your fingertips ran over their leather bound spines, feeling the wrinkles and grooves. you knew there would be a lot, but as you looked upon the entire shelf, you estimated a good hundred-fifty books.

he organised them by categories. summoning, excommunication, identifying. identifying. that’s what you needed. you took a closer look at the section, nervousness fading briefly to be replaced by a faint taste of hope.

the encyclopaedia of demons and demonology.

deciding there had to be something in there, you pulled it out. the book itself was simple, bound in black leather. the cover was nothing special, just the title and author. by the looks of it, you’d be here for a while, seemingly at least three hundred pages long. you looked around the dark room, a small wooden desk was tucked into the corner though not a chair in sight. with a soft sigh, you walked over on weak knees, apprehensive about what you’d find in the book.

despite your father’s profession and all the bedtime stories, you never came in contact with demons or the spirit world. setting the book on the desk, you opened it to the index, having to squint to make out the text. but the next time you lifted your eyes off the page, a brass candle holder was tucked into the corner of the table.

you blinked. there was no way that was there before, but maybe you had just missed it. the pale yellow candle stood half melted, the hardened wax forming veins that ran down the sides and pooled in the brass bowl.

you held your breath momentarily before beginning to read through the a to z list of demons and other dark entities and their descriptions. you only skimmed, lingering on any that mentioned appearing in nightmares only to dismiss them when the rest of their descriptions didn’t match with your experience. surprised by just how much there was to read, you felt just a little curious, occasionally stopping to read extracts that had piqued your interest. it wasn’t until you got all the way to section i where something actually seemed to be helpful.

‘incubus—a lewd male demon who pursues women for sex. the incubus and his female counterpart, the succubus, visit women and men in their sleep, lie and press heavily upon them, and seduce them.’

you nearly missed it, continuing your skimming until the description registered, scrambling to turn back the page and reread it.

“oh.” you breathed at the realisation. that seemed to be the most accurate thus far, your finger tracing over the name as you furrowed your eyebrows and continued reading. the next paragraphs detailed how they’re conjured and where the name came from. you read some more.

‘incubi are especially attracted to women with beautiful hair, young virgins, chaste widows, and all “devout” females. nuns are among the most vulnerable and could be molested in the confessional as well as in bed. while the majority of women are forced into sex by the incubi, some of them submit willingly and even enjoy the act. it once was a common belief that women were more likely than men to be the sexual victims of demons, because women were inferior to men and less able to resist temptation.

incubi have enormous phalluses that—’

slamming the book shut, your eyes widened and a deep blush settled over your features, just staring at the cover for a moment as you collected yourself from the sudden vulgarity of the writing. after a moment, you cleared your throat and reopened the page, strategically skipping over the next paragraphs that detailed accounts of intercourse with such a demon.

‘an incubus may form attachments to those whose minds are occupied with dark and inherently sexual desires, those that are impure. one also can be summoned for coital gratifications, or a deal in which one’s first born is ommonly offered to repay their sevices (see: dealing with the demons, page 218).’

but that couldn’t be right. you always made sure to be a good girl, always helped at home. you volunteered to read to children at a local orphanage, always helped with charities and donations, always assisted people where you knew you could, stayed soft spoken and always began your requests with please and ended them with thank you. you kept to yourself most of the time, would never dare to raise your voice at anyone, never had any romantic interest, let alone sexual ones.

admittedly, the dreams involving the man— the demon had you waking up with an uncomfortable stickiness between your thighs. but before that, you never indulged. after that, you never indulged either, instead jumping from your bed and taking an ice could bath to calm yourself from the strange feeling. the temptations were always there and were always strong, but your want to be immaculate was stronger. to be free of sin.

a deal in which one’s first born is offered.

it seemed impossible, almost. you knew your father was a righteous man and your mother a pure woman. but where your mother happily shared stories of her childhood as heart-warming anecdotes, your father only dropped tidbits of his memories despite considering you two to be extremely close. you always chalked it up to him being a little boring or generally not very open. but maybe there was more to it…

“there you go, sweetheart.”

you nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of his voice, pushing the book away from you as you turned around a little too quickly, your knee knocking against the edge of the table.

there he stood, barely illuminated by the singular window as he took slow steps towards you much like the other day.

“so, you’ve finally figured it out, huh?”

each time he took a step, his muscles visible through the loose black silk, you inched away until the top of your thigh hit the wooden table, your hands bracing themselves on it to keep you from collapsing in fear. the closer he got, the more you realised just how attractive he was. broad-shouldered and radiating confidence, his feline eyes roamed over your figure. depite wearing a white gown that reached all the way down to your ankles, you felt so exposed.

tongue swiping along his bottom lip, drawing your attention to the action. he towered over you, making you feel weak and small as he trapped you against the table. your heart pounded against your ribcage and you feared it would break free and fall into his hands, unsure if the warmth on your cheeks and ump in your throat came from how utterly petrified you were or the way his breath fanned over your face like a whisper.

“your dearest father isn’t who he says he is,” he pouted mockingly, coming to a stop inches in front of you, letting his gaze settle on your quivering lips for a moment, “and me? well, you know what i am. and you also know we can have lots of fun if you allow it.”

your lips parted to speak but no words came out, instead opting to press them into a thin line and squeezing your eyes shut as you shook your head. you weren’t completely sure why you wer shaking your head, but if it would stop the incubus from tainting you, it was worth a try.

“don’t kid yourself, princess. i can smell how wet you are.” as if to emphasise his point, he inhaled deeply, leaning forward to ghost his nose over the slope of your neck without touching you.

it wasn’t until he said it that you notice you had been squeezing your thighs together, feeling warm all over and you stomach twisted in knots at the sound of his deep voice. something ached in your lower regions, but you tried your hardest to resist the thoughts.

but a little voice in the back of your head urged you to tilt your head back, to give him permission, to let his hands explore your untouched body. maybe just this once you could allow yourself to give in, to let your knees go weak and worry about begging for forgiveness later.

“all you have to do is drop the rosary.”

you gripped it tighter at the reminder of the protective object tangled between your fingers, fighting to keep your sanity intact. your breath hitched as you felt one of his fingers run along the beads, not daring to come close to the little silver cross or your skin.

“c’mon, pretty girl. drop it,” you heard the smirk in his voice, “let it go and i’ll take good care of you, i can make you feel things you’ve never thought of… i can make you feel alive, wouldn’t you love that? don’t you want to feel the desire? taste the lust?”

“n-no,” you gasped finally, finding your words, “it’s not right.“

he laughed, a low rumble from his chest, “i promise you’ll love being ruined by me,” he said, withdrawing his hand from yours, “i swear to all your precious little holy symbols, i know i can get you to want me.”

he moved closer and for a maddening moment you thought he was going to kiss you. faintly, you wanted him to. to feel the push of his lips against yours, to let his hands snake around your waist or grip your hips to pull you closer. there’s a ring on his index finger, you noticed, silvery and sharp, a symbol you didn’t recognise yet imagine him pressing it against your throat, branding your neck anew until it’s red and faithful. and maybe you crave for him to undo all the things in you that are holy.

“just drop it, pretty,” his breath teased your lips and you almost leaned forward in curiosity, wanting to see how just one kiss would feel, “i know you’re a good girl.”

those words. they’re almost enough for you to give in. how did he know those would strike a nerve, hit you where he knew it would work? not only did all your efforts ultimately lead to the same goal—purity, goodness—but you couldn’t deny the satisfaction you felt from reassurance. if you were an animal, you’d strive to be the priest’s favourite sacrificial lamb. to hold so very still and to bleed so prettily when the knife final comes down, to be reborn and be chosen all over again.

“don’t you get it?” he whispered, “i live inside you the same way you’re bound to live inside me. we’re a moebius strip, a never ending cycle of a snake eating it’s own tail. maybe it will end in destruction, but that’s your dear father’s doing. mutually assured destruction, maybe; you say yes, i’ll ruin you for everyone else, blacken the wool of your fur coat. you say no to me, i will suffer the consequences of not fulfilling a deal. you wouldn’t want someone to suffer because of you, hm?”

your grip on the rosary loosened and let your eyes finally flutter open. from this proximity, you could see every detail of his face and the image seared into your mind.

something in his eyes darkened as his lips curled, a playful smile, a predatory grin. the way he looked at you made you want to combust into flames, to fall to your knees, you skin rubbed raw on the ground as you beg him to make you feel.

“you don’t look so innocent anymore, you know? you’re docile and sweet, yes, but you’re not as pure as you think you are, there’s a little dirt in your pristine heart, a little lustful stain you can’t erase.”

“y-you’re wrong!” you protested, trying to convince yourself he was lying, “i’m good and i’ve always been good and i always will be good and i will not for the devil’s influence.”

“oh, but i’m not,” he pouted mockingly, moving his head back just an inch, looking down at you, “you’re practically shaking, so close to giving in… you’re the most pious girl here, yet you’re so close to sin, so close to me.”

you opened your mouth to continue your protests but flinched as you heard familiar heavy footsteps, looking up at the little window to see the familiar boots of your father about to enter the house after a long day of work. he was out, casting out malicious spirits and demons, and here you were, about to let one deflower you. the realisation seemingly made you come back to your senses, clenching the roary in your hand once more and looking for a way past him.

but… what would you even do afterwards? confront your father, the town’s devout exorcist, for making deals with the incubus in front of you? would he call you crazy, deny everything and treat you like just another one of his clients?

the footsteps were now above you, you could faintly hear him saying something to your mother though you couldn’t quite make out what it was. you’d never been as afraid of anything as you were of your own father, standing right above you, acting like he hadn’t damned you from the day you were conceived.

as if he could read your thoughts, could sense your panic that was completely unrelated to him, the incubus stepped back. his face was unreadable as his glazed over eyes fixated on you.

“don’t worry, sweet girl, i can wait. the longer you resist, the better it’ll feel when you finally surrender,” he gave you a small smile, different from the previous grins and smirks, as he nodded towards the window, “go.”

you could’ve run away the moment he stepped back, yet you didn’t move until he gave you the permission. you didn’t dwell on that fact as you slipped past him and reached up, shaky hands undoing the latch and opening outwards. you attempted to climb up, your arms burning as you tried lifting yourself, only to give up, panting softly from the effort.

“let me help you.” his voice offered, prompting you to look back at him. the seductive glint in his eyes was no longer there, taking a small step forward. “just… put it down, i promise i’ll help you and leave.”

you stared at him for a long moment. there was something so different in the way he looked at you now, suddenly soft and with good intentions. the voice of your father calling your name snapped you out of your stupor, nodding hurridely as you placed the rosary on the grass outside carefully before turning to look at him.

he gestured for you to turn away, your hands finding your hips as you did. the contact made you breath hitched, despite your layers of clothing between your curves and his hands, your stomach tickled with swarming butterflies as he lifted you up. the heat of his body behind yours distracted you for a moment, taken aback at how real he felt, how human he felt, even as he lifted you with ease.

you braced your forearms on the ground, pulling yourself up the rest of the way as he spoke.

“whisper my name three times, and i’ll be summoned wherever you are, ready to fulfill your needs.”

you stayed quiet for a moment, just sitting on the ground as you looked down at him, now able to see his full face clearning from his proximity to the window. “what’s your name?”

“san,” he smiled, “choi san.”

you loked away, up at your house as your father’s concerned voice called out your name again. “i should get going, but–,” you looked down to thank him, only to find an empty room and a sealed window. your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, voiced trailing off, “thank you…”

the first time you touched yourself, it was san you were thinking about.

late at night, your parents fast asleep, a storm ragin outside, but all you could do was think about him. you tried, you really did. you tried to go back in the house and pretend everything was fine, that you had just been on a walk and your flushed face was from the excercise. secretely, all you could think about was him. how you wanted him to show up again��wanted him to make your breath hitch and your heart jump. wanted him to soothe whatever it was that ached inside you; the burn in the pit of your stomach, the spot where your waist met your hips, but most of all between your legs, were it had never ached like this before.

you excused yourself from dinner earlier, went to bed, and tried so desperately to fall asleep. whether it was to forget about it all, or to meet him in your dreams again, you couldn’t tell. you really tried, but haunting thoughts of how his hands held onto you rolled into your mind with images of all the things he could do to you. the raspy lilt of his voice, sometimes soft, sometimes commanding in a way that made your limbs feel like jello at the mere thought of it. his sharp eyes and sharp jaw and such tempting lips. he could have a kind face if he wanted to, yet his toned body, visible and obvious despite trying to hide behind his clothing, screamed sex appeal.

flashes from your previous dreams raced through your mind too. fragments of images where you could feel his hands all over you, his dark hair sticking to his sweat forehead, eyes rolled back from the pleasure he gave himself while you were forced to watch. you never quite gave in in the dreams either.

you tossed and turned in your bed, thighs pressed together so tight you worried you’d have long bruises down your inner thighs the next morning. the new feeling felt much too large for your fragile mind, overwhelming you, making your loose clothes feel suffocating. it wouldn’t leave you alone, wouldn’t let you sleep. mostly because you didn’t want to give the feeling a name, you refused to speak its name, even in your mind, even if it could identify this feeling.

pent-up and strained, coiled into yourself in a foetal position, you could only roll onto your back and let your hand trail down your body, hiking up the long skirt of your nightgown before letting your fingers dip between your thighs, spread at the knees. you let out a shaky gasp as you felt the wetness pooled beneath your undergarments, clamping your other hand over your lips. after feeling around experimentally, your fingers found a quick pace, rubbing over your clit, more desperate than they had ever been. your hand muffled your gasped out moans and whimpers, tears pricking at your eyes—partly from the guilt, mostly from the pleasure. you felt your heart beat all over your body, most of all right below your moistened fingertips.

shaky breaths and muffled needy cries were covered by both your hand and the storm outside your window. if hurts a little, your clit swelling as more and more slick coats it and the knot in your stomach grows tighter and tighter. but you don’t mind the pain, you think you deserve it, because after all, it’s forbidden and it’s not supposed to feel good. san is not supposed to make you feel so good. a demon was the one thing that wasn’t supposed to be on your mind, especially not in this way.

the thought of him made your hand move faster and suddenly your breath was stuttering and your core pulse as you finish quickly, biting down on your lip, hard enough to cut through the skin, to muffle your cries. when you came down from your high, you lay there for a few moments longer, heart racing as you glance at the door to make sure it was still closed. and when you realised what you had just done, shame clouded your lungs as you slipped your fingers out of your panties and raised them to your face.

your hands came away sticky. transparents webs of your pleasure linking your index and middle fingers together as you stared in horror before finally collecting yourself and jumping from your bed to scrub the sin from your hands in your bathroom.

you scrubbed until your fingers turned red and your palms raw, losing sensation from the ice cold water, the guilt sinking deeper and deeper the longer you took to cleanse your body. you hadn’t noticed the tears running down your cheeks until you stared at yourself in the mirror, sniffling and glossy-eyed. your body might be clean, but were you? if you wanted to be immaculate, how could you let yourself do such a thing?

it was his fault, really. him and his midnight eyes and electric touches and words that would drive you to madness, damnation.

you changed your panties and nightgown, burying them in your laundry basket as if you were burying the evidence of a crime. once done, you wanted nothing more than to sink into your bed and fall asleep. but as you stared at what you once thought was comforting, you could only think about your soft whimpers and shaking thighs. so you stripped your bed naked to decorate it anew with clean sheets and blankets and pillows, shoving the previous ones under your bed before finally falling into a deep sleep.

shame followed you like a pest for the next days, unable to properly smile because all you could think about was what you had done. and what you wanted to do. a heavy melancholy washed over you in these days, confining yourself to your room when ou didn’t have to come down for meals. if your parents picked up on it, they didn’t say anything. maybe they knew. what if they know?

maybe they didn’t say anything because they knew about san. perhaps they thought it was fate, that you would give in sooner or later. despite cracking a bit, you stood by your conviction that you wouldn’t, no matter what, summon him.

but… was he really so bad? had you not seen a moment of softness when he helped you? demons were, after all, fallen angels. could it really be so impossible he still had a sprinkle of previous angeilc qualities? silently, you were thankful he hadn’t showed up on his own again. if he did, you were afraid you’d throw away all sense of faith and throw yourself into his arms, let him kiss you and lick you and suck you and bite you and everything in between.

despite all this, despite not wanting to summon him, you couldn’t deny the unsettling feeling weighing you down with each step. it had been there before—before whatever happened in the basement—dragging your seemingly heavy limbs through vacant hallways. but when he touched you, when his fingertips brushed against yours as he touched the shiny black beads of your rosary even though he didn’t mean to, when his hands lifted you into the air and helped you escape, the way he talked to you, his words and tone, that unsettling feeling had been lifted off your shoulders.

you noticed, for a brief moment, when you spent that short amount of time with him, you had no desire to think of god or rules or expectations. even if it was for a split second, it happened, and perhaps that what terrified you the most. just wanted to be, something you hadn’t been allowed for so long.

so when your parents said they’d be out late for some dinner you had no interest in attending, you paced around your room, deep in thought as your typical long nightgown tickled your ankles. millions of thoughts raced through your kind but, at the core, they were all the same. san, san, san. you felt like he had attached himself to your very soul, and you’re not quite sure how it happened.

without thinking, you stopped your pacing, glancing at the crucifix on your bedside table, a reminder. you couldn’t take it anymore, reaching out to take the wooden symbol and hide it in your closet. was it really wrong if it was still there, only trapped behind the wooden double doors, nestled between your skirts and shirts and gowns and gowns? out of sight, you felt less bad about what you were going to do.

your eyes squeezed shut and you did as he told you to, lips parting to whisper his name thrice. almost instantly, a gust of wind blew through your room and you knew there was someone else there with you. your eyes remained shut until you heard footsteps stalking towards you, his familiar voice filling the eerie silence of the room.

“hello, angel,” he grinned, borderline menacing, as he backed you up against your dresser. much like before, you were trapped, the back of your thighs pressed against the wood. only this time, you weren’t afraid, “i knew you’d give in sooner rather than later.”

you didn’t reply, didn’t know how to reply, only breathing shallowly, fingers curling into the edge of your dresser as you glanced from his eyes to his lips repeatedly.

“you need to give me permission, you know,” he chuckled, tilting his head to the side, “there are rules for deals such as these.”

“please.” you breathed, somewhere between a whisper and a needy whine as your round eyes looked up at him so desperately.

as soon as the word left you, his lips were on yours. hungry, devouring you, sucking on your bottom lip like it’s a candy as you can’t help but melt and whimper against him. his hand found your cheek, the touch surprisingly soft compared to the madness of his kisses. your heart rattled against your ribcage like a bird wanting to escape its confines. his saccharine saliva seeped into your mouth as his tongue broke past your lips, running over your teeth and the roof of your mouth as you let him do whatever he wanted.

his hands are all over you and yours are all over him, grabbing at each other because there was no way to get any closer like this. your thoughts, unlike before, are completely quiet, head empty and drunk on the sloppy kisses, mouthfuls of teeth clashing against each other. he was supposed to be gentle, he wanted to be gentle, yet now you’re pressed against the dresser and he’s kissing you hard.

it was wrong, but it felt too good. that was clear from the moment your kisses turn open-mouthed, lips clinging and tongues dancing. you shivered as both his hands held you by your hips once more, lifting you to sit on the edge of the oak furniture, caressing your hips bones through the thin fabric of your dress.

your hands rug at his shirt lightly, a silent plea for him to remove it, wanting to see and feel every inch of his divine body. he complies, separating his lips from your to reach over his shoulder and grip the silky shirt from the back, pulling it over his head, tossing it aside. your hands explore his naked torso, fingernails scratching along his skin as he loses himself in the taste of your kisses.

his hands dragged the long skirt of your gown up your legs, fingers ghosting over the supple skin of your calves and thighs before letting the cloth bunch up at your hips, winding your legs around his waist before lifting you off the dresser. you cling to him the way the thought of him cling to you for so long before this as he carries you. he lays you down gently, your head spinning as he kneeled on the edge of your bed and leaned over you, moving his lips from yours to mouth at your neck.

his hot breaths dance along your skin, across your collarbone, neck, pressing wet kisses down to the fabric covering your chest. you gasped softly as he brushed his teeth against your skin, a reminded that he could really break you if he wanted, but the feel of his lips against the curve of your neck, testing out the waters of your shoulder, made the intimidating thought vanish.

he teases the skin just above your neckline with nibbles that have you throwing your head back with soft whimpers, only encouraging him as his left hand kept one of your legs hitched up against his hips and his right undid the ribbons at the back of your dress. the fabric loosens and slips around, one sleeve falling over your shoulder slightly as he sat you up a little and pulled the dress over your head, discarding it and leaving you in your white ruffled bra and panties.

you’re dizzy, delirious with thirst—for his touch, his kisses, for everything his sharp lips could give you, for him to relieve the ache between your legs. you shiver as you’re left bare, nipples peaking through your bra, undergarments barely hiding your most precious parts. you try covering yourself with shaking arms, despite the little fabric still be there, but his hands move them aside, pulling them to rest on his bare chest. his eyelids flutter for a moment at the contact, your hands so much colder than his.

he leans back to look at your, hand at your back winding around to massage a handful of one breast, watching your breath hitch. “such a pretty girl, and all for me.”

“san…” you whimper aimlessly, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“such an angel,” he teases again, thumb circling over your clothed nipple lightly, grinning at how helpless you looked, “supposedly protected by your father, by god, yet here you are, practically begging for a demon to fuck you.”

he presses himself closer and you can feel the thick and heavy weight of his cock smudge against your core, gasping softly as you eyes roll back, his tip prodding against the fabric covering your sensitive clit. his name falls from your lips once again, like a softly uttered prayer as you back arches. he takes the opportunity to undo the clasp of your bra, slipping the item off you before continuing to tease your perked nipples, leaning down to lick and suck at them as his hips grind against yours. you weren’t sure when he took off his pants, but you didn’t quite care, not when his impressive girth covered your core so well. sometimes the tip would dip into your entrance before leaving just as quickly, your toes curling as it stretched you and your panties.

he moans into your neck, grinding against you at just the right pace, his precum smearing all over you already-drenched panties. the feeling of his tip prodding at you clit so continuously makes you come quickly, and much harder than the other night when you touched yourself. you writhe beneath him, shaking and crying out his name as your back arches from the bed.

“hm, you’re so much prettier like this, angel, succumbing and throwing away any desire of virtue,” he mutters against your jaw, having sucked dark marks onto the skin right below it, his deep melodic voice.

angel. the way he calls you that makes you shiver. how could he do that? call you an angel while plucking out the feathers of the wings you’d once had?

when he enters you, it’s slow and deliberate, leaning down to whisper into your ear as he presses your hands into the white mattress—”heaven itself could not make you feel like this.”

“i’ve never… you know…” you had admitted shyly once you came down from the first orgasm he coaxed out of you.

he only chuckled, caressing your cheek. “i know. virgins always smell the sweetest.”

you pleaded for him to be gentle, and how could he say no when you were begging so prettily? now his length is barely halfway inside you and you’re already shaking, drenched and deprived pussy squeezing him tightly as he swallows down your broken moans, holding back him own. you feel abnormally good to him, unable to remember the last time he fucked such a perfect pussy.

as he reaches previously untouched parts of you, his tip brushes against a spongey little area that has you clenching, your breath hitching followed by a gasped moan as you come again. stars flood your vision, feeling like your body was on fire as your hands tightened under his. his tongue licks up every one of your sounds, smothering you as he pulled back a bit to press against the spot some more.

your moans soon turn into soft whines, twitching from overstimulation before he fially continues to enter you. it’s a tight fit, but he bottoms out eventually.

“fuck- you take me so well, you’re so perfect.” he groans, looking down at where he can see his tip bulging through your stomach.

you never imagined just how full you would feel, the stretch burning yet somehow still pleasurable as you squirm beneath him. he doesn’t wait, retracting and fucking into you slowly, letting you feel every curve and vein of his perfect cock.

he loses track, but he thinks he’s made you finish 4 times already. he’s not surprised, virginity leaves most people sensitive, and the fact he’s been teasing you in and out of your dreams for months likely didn’t help. san revels in it though, basks in the sounds you try to hold back so desperately. he isn’t lying when he says you’re pretty, hypnotised by your face contorted in pleasure and your body, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes. they somehow still have an innocent glint in them, even as he manoeuvres you into different positions before finally easing you into your back once more.

you arousal is smeared all over yourself and him and the bedsheets. clear and sticky, glistening in the candlelight. at some point he slipped out of you to lean down and have a taste, groaning as you mewed above him. when his teeth grazed your abuser clit, you finish once again and a moment later he’s back inside you.

eventually, his hips stutter and a newfound pace takes over. “shit, angel, i’m gonna fill you up so good. would you like that?”

you can only nod frantically, brain turned to mush, jaw dropped to let out your lazy whimpers. you’ve lost track of everything but him; his touch, his voice, his influence. if you parents walked in or he disappeared, you’d only be able to lay there, completely helpless.

he never really stops, taking his time to worship your tight hole, knowing he’ll only be able to stop when he comes. though, by the looks of it, it’ll be sooner rather than later.

his groans and moans sound blissful in your ears, holding your name between his teeth with a low whimper. he spills his tick warm cum into you, the new sensation making you shake and squirm as you feel your insides being filled. another orgasm washed over you, though a little weaker, drunk on his scent and his saliva and him him him.

he kisses you, bruisingly, slipping out of yoh and letting you feel his seed seep out of your hole and run down your thighs, pussy coated in milky white. he slumps against you, detaching his lips from yours to gaze down at your barely open eyes.

it’s tiring, you can’t deny that, but it just feels so good. all your disgusting, fucked up thoughts were because of him. and now your most intimate parts will always be tainted by his hands. he calls you ‘good girl,’ yet you know you’ll never be good again.

choi san: voice like silk, touch like satin, incubus, demon. you’d think demons kill people, but your purity was his only homicide. he murdered your virginity. murderer.

but you do wish for him to kiss you again.

networks. @cromernet @wonderlandnet @cultofdionysusnet @pirateeznet @atzhouse

permanent taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb @seonghwasbbgirl @likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo @yalyallic @yunhoswrldddd @coffee-addict-kitten @thunderous-wolf @chngbnwf

fic taglist. @ta3baee @juyofans @sourkimchi @desirehorizon @revepixy @yungilia @cntlyv @mcendpoet @kimseungminsprincess @cookiechristie @bluesunpurplestar1117 @vnessalau @k1ttym0nkey @kyeomooniee @aarzoo-2 @pinkgirly-18-blog @yourfatherlucifer @puddingjongho @futuresoffantasies @reallywingedland @spenceatiny18 @im-def-not-ok @hwapou @a1sh1teruu @lover-ofallthingspretty @arabelleum @hoshiseon @guggu6gvai @seongsbf @honggatito @deltamoon666 @yunhoszn @1-800-fuccthisshit

#cromernet #wonderlandnet #cultofdionysusnet #pirateeznet #atzhouse #ateez #ateez x reader #choi san smut #san x reader #san reactions #san imagines #san smut #san fluff #san angst #ateez imagines #ateez reactions #ateez fluff #ateez smut

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whereserpentswalk · 2 months ago

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Reblog to go on a date with your monster. Like to give them a little gift.

Look under the cut to see what meeting your joyfriend is like.

1 you walk into a messy apartment, it looks like this is their first place where they live alone, away from other angels. They're sitting on a Lome mattress, cuddling a stuffed animal and watching TV. Despite everything they're still beautiful, their body youthful, and sexless, and athletic, their four white wings forever stained with blood. They look up at you with rose gold eyes, afraid, apologizing for if they scared you. But to their surprise you don't shy away from them, and somehow they feel safe and pure when you sit down to talk to them.

2 you see them in the shadows, alone in the dark of an empty park, changing shape, first a muscular humanoid in armor, then a wolf dancing through the night, then a combination of both, then finally a modern human in a ragged trenchcoat. Despite all their forms, their eyes are always the same. They come up to you and bow with a smile on their face. You slowly aproch them, for whatever reason their voice seems so familiar. You greet them with your hand as you would an animal, even as they're in human form, as you slowly pet their scars for the first time.

3 within the golden halls of an ornate train station you see them for the first time, through the crowd with inhumanly green eyes. They notice you despite everyone else. And you notice everything off about them, the wrong numbers of teeth, their hands occasionally having more or less then five fingers before returning back to normal. It's wordless but it doesn't need words for you to tell them that they don't need to pretend to be human around you. And for a momment you see them, naked, with branches for antlers, and the wings of a monarch butterfly, a serpent's head where a human’s genitals would be, and teeth made out of broken glass, and then only a rose exists where they once stood, but you know you'll see them again.

4 you see them for the first time in an empty parking lot, a massive creature with black eyes and countless legs, glowing yet dark, as they come twords you they take notes in an unknowable language. They inspect you as the dark matter pitter patters across your face. You expect them to hurt you as they reach out their claw but they only gently pet your head. You can tell that they're suprised, you're more receptive then most humans are. They give you a small peice of food to let you eat right from their claw, and it tastes batter then anything on earth.

5 you meet them in a café on a quiet side street. They don't like being seen by too many people. Their body is beautiful, but so inhuman, tall and slender, with silvery armor covering them from the neak down, their face pale and their eyes long since ripped out and replaced with red mechanical replacements. They're a bit afraid you won't be ok with them when you first meet them, but you start talking, and though they're shy at first they like the sound of your voice. They let you pet their head and they cuddle up to you, and their body is warm like a churning machine as you hug them for the first time, and they feel comforted in your arms.

6 you see them in a dark subway station. They clearly once were human, centuries ago, their body forever young, but pale and skinny, their eyes turned white and their mouth jawless and fanged like a lampry's. Their body is entirely sexless, barely shielded from the cold by a ragged suit. Most people avoid them, but you ask if they're ok and they just look up at you, when you ask if they're hungry they nod. You agree to give them some blood, and it feels like they're giving you little kisses as you offer them your wrist. When they're full you hug their cold body, and for a momment they're made warm.

7 an undead servent slowly brings them over to you in a wheelchair. Though their mansion is beautiful it's trapped in time, and dark even in the daytime. You can see the computer they're trapped in, it must be decades old by now. They look at you with an avatar meant to look like a drawing of themself, or at least how they'd want to look. Something about them makes you want to touch them, but you know you never can. You put your hand to the screen, and you can feel the magic flow through you, and for a momment that's enough.

8 you see them sitting there alone in a bar. A slender androgynous humanoid, they're wearing a black suit but upon closer examination it's part of their body, never to be taken off. You sit next to them, and they smile at you, you talk for a few moments and it's like they know more about the universe then you could ever imagine. They pet your head, and it feels like it'll kill you, but it only makes you feel more alive. They hand you a business card with their number on it, it says they're a servent of hades, they tell you you can contact them again if you like, they'll be around. When you look again they're entirely gone once more.

9 walking through an abandoned mall you see them, a life sized puppet, with stars and moons on its outfit, and a painted mask for a face. Coming closer to them you can see there's red liquid on them, and strange otherworldly bugs and mushrooms on their body. When you try to touch them they float in the air, and move as if they're alive, for a momment you think they'll hurt you but they run away. When you find them again, tracking them down to a dark arcade, you see they're crying. They expect you to hurt them but you reach out to help them instead, nobody's ever tried to help them like that before...

10 you see them ontop of a skyscraper's roof. They youthful human wearing a leather jacket smiling as a massive reptile, with bat like wings, and massive steel fangs, and a tail like a scorpion's flies down to them. You wonder if they'll try to calm it but instead they move together like one being, their eyes the same yellow color. The creature comes twords you, fire in its mouth, and poison in its teeth. You realize the two beings are one in the same, as the wyvern bows its head, ready for you to ride it, with its human body at your side.

11 for a momment they chase you through the night, the hooded masked figure running twords you, blade in hand. But as you cross the street they can't follow, it's as if they've hit a wall. The gods themselves have bound them. While you're in safety you look at them, there's a sadness behind that mask. You wonder, if they can't hurt you here, would there be any reason to hate them, would they choose to spare you if they knew your face, your voice...

12 all you can see is blackness, yet there is no darkness, only this slick metallic liquid around you. The lake bubbles up creating a false body with its fluid, first male, then female, then both, then neither. It beckons you in, and you know it would not let you drown. When you step inside all you can feel, all you can see, is the fluid around you, and you feel as if you're being held.

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ruewrote · 1 month ago

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𝑠𝑢𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑚𝑒.

PAIRING: josh washington x fem!reader WARNINGS: reunion, no use of y/n GENRE: angsty fluff SONG INSPIRATION: little bit by lykke li WORD COUNT: 1.4k REQUESTED: yes

navigation | ask | josh washington masterlist

the mountain had changed you.

the person you were a year ago, carefree and full of warmth, had died alongside hannah on that cold, snowy night. but instead of a clean death, you’d been forced to keep breathing, keep fighting, as the mountain swallowed you whole. the stranger had found you in the woods, broken and lost, but not beyond repair.

he patched you up, told you the truth about the wendigos, about the curse that haunted these mountains.

then he taught you to fight.

at first, you resisted. the idea of hunting those monsters, the creatures who had once been human, sickened you. but soon, survival became everything. you had no choice. so, you learned how to track them, how to trap them, how to kill them. you learned how to handle the heavy flamethrower, how to stay calm even when your heart wanted to race out of control. the wendigos were fast, stronger than anything you had ever faced, but you became stronger too. the stranger showed you where to strike, how to stay one step ahead, how to use the terrain to your advantage.

the first time you killed one, it shook you to your core. but over time, you grew harder. the terror became familiar, and the blood on your hands just another part of who you were now.

the scars you bore told the story of every battle. your skin was littered with them—long, jagged ones where claws had grazed you, puckered burns from close encounters with the fire. your muscles had grown lean and tough, your reflexes sharper than they’d ever been. the girl you once were was long gone, replaced by someone stronger, someone who could face the horrors of the mountain and live to tell the tale. but even after all that, there was one thing you hadn’t faced.

josh.

that’s why you were here now, standing at the edge of the tree line, watching the lodge from the shadows. the firelight flickered through the windows, casting warmth over the faces of people you once called friends. they laughed, talked, acted like everything was normal. sam, chris, mike—none of them knew the truth about the mountain. none of them understood what they had unleashed when they pranked hannah that night. but you did.

and then, you saw him.

he stood apart from the others, staring blankly into the fire, his face gaunt and his eyes hollow. the sight of him made your chest tighten with a strange mix of longing and dread. he looked like he hadn’t slept in days, like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. you’d imagined this moment a thousand times over the past year, but nothing could have prepared you for the reality of it.

you didn’t mean to make a sound, but the branch snapped underfoot, loud in the quiet night.

josh’s head snapped up, his eyes locking onto yours through the dark. his brow furrowed, confusion clouding his features as he squinted into the trees. “who’s there?”

your heart pounded in your chest, your breath freezing in your lungs. this was it. there was no turning back now.

you stepped out from the shadows, your body tense with a mixture of fear and hope. “josh…”

his body went rigid, disbelief flashing across his face. “no,” he breathed, his voice barely audible. “no, you… you’re not real.”

you took a shaky breath, the words catching in your throat. “i’m real, josh. i’m right here.”

he stumbled forward, his eyes wide with shock as he closed the distance between you. his hands trembled as they reached out to touch you, as if he was afraid you would vanish into thin air. when his fingers brushed against your skin, the dam broke. josh pulled you into his arms with a desperate force, his body shaking as he clung to you like a lifeline.

“i thought you were dead,” he whispered, his voice ragged with emotion. “i thought i lost you.”

you wrapped your arms around him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours for the first time in what felt like an eternity. “i thought i lost you too.”

for a long moment, you stayed like that, holding each other in the cold. but even in his embrace, you couldn’t shake the heaviness pressing down on you. the past year had changed both of you, twisted you into different versions of the people you used to be. you’d fought monsters, bled, and survived things no one should have to survive. and he… you could see the darkness in his eyes, the madness gnawing at him from the inside.

you pulled back slightly, searching his face. “why are you here, josh? what are you doing?”

josh met your eyes, his face twisted with grief and anger. “they left them. they left hannah and beth to die out there. we both know it.”

you bit your lip, the words caught in your throat. he didn’t know. he didn’t understand what had really happened to the twins. what had happened to you. he wasn’t just angry, he was drowning in his own guilt, and he was blind to the truth.

“josh… there’s something i need to tell you,” you said softly, stepping back, reaching for the sleeve of your jacket.

his brow furrowed in confusion, but he watched as you tug the fabric up, revealing the long, jagged scars that ran along your arm. his breath caught in his throat as his eyes moved over the raised lines of flesh, the burns and cuts that told the story of your survival.

“what… what is this?” his voice was barely a whisper, his fingers ghosting over the marks on your skin.

“these are from the things that live up here, josh,” you said, your voice trembling with the weight of the truth you were about to share. “they’re not just legends. there’s something on this mountain, something old, something hungry. they’re called wendigos.”

his face paled, and he took a shaky step back. “wendigos? what are you talking about?”

you took a deep breath, gathering your courage. “hannah didn’t just die, josh. after the fall… she turned into one. i’ve been hunting them with a stranger i've met here. we’ve been fighting to stop them, but the wendigos… they’re relentless. they’re what’s out there, in the woods. they’re why i survived.”

josh stared at you, his eyes wide with disbelief. “no… no, that’s not possible. that can’t be…”

“it is, josh. i know it’s hard to believe, but it’s true.” you lifted your other sleeve, revealing more scars, more proof of the battles you had fought. “this is what happened to me while i was out there. i didn’t just survive, i fought. i killed them. i’ve been living with this nightmare for the past year.”

his hands shook as he ran them through his hair, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “hannah… became one of them?” his voice cracked, the words almost too much for him to say.

you nodded, tears stinging at your eyes. “she didn’t mean to. it’s the curse, josh. the mountain… it’s cursed. when you resort to cannibalism, you turn. that’s what happened to her. she tried to survive, just like i did, but it… changed her.”

for a moment, he was silent, the weight of the truth crashing down on him. you watched as the pain twisted his face, as the horror of it all settled deep in his bones.

“i brought them here… to punish them,” he whispered, his voice hollow. “but it was never them, was it? it was the mountain.”

“it’s the wendigos,” you said softly, stepping closer and placing a hand on his arm. “but that doesn’t mean you have to go through with this. we can stop it, josh. together.”

he looked up at you, his eyes filled with anguish. “i didn’t know. i didn’t know any of this.”

“i know,” you whispered, gently squeezing his arm. “but now you do. and we can fix this. we can fight back. you don’t have to carry this burden alone anymore.”

for the first time in what felt like forever, josh’s body seemed to relax. the tension in his shoulders eased, and the wild look in his eyes began to fade. he didn’t have all the answers, and neither did you. but in that moment, standing together on the cursed mountain that had torn your lives apart, you knew one thing for certain.

you weren’t alone anymore.

comments and reblogs are appreciated ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

@writing-fanics changed the ending hope this was okay :)

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soweirdondisney · 1 year ago

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Are You Afraid of the Dark? DVDs

Adding on to the Are You Afraid of the Dark? revival post covering the 2019, 2021, and 2022 seasons...

All three revival seasons are now available on DVD.

Carnival of Doom’s release was in August 2020. Along with the three episodes of the series, it includes three “fan-favorite” episodes of the “classic series”.

According to the back cover, the three “classic” episodes are

The Tale of Laughing in the Dark

The Tale of the Ghastly Grinner

The Tale of the Dead Man’s Float

Curse of the Shadows was released on physical media in August 2021 and with six episodes in total, there are no special episodes.

There is, however, the choice of owning it as part of a double pack.

It’s called a “2-DVD collection” but according to online listings there are 4 discs total. This version contains all 9 episodes of the first two revivals (3 for Carnival + 6 for Shadows), but there are no episodes from previous seasons.

Ghost Island was the most recent release in August 2023 and other than the four episodes of the season, there are no bonus episodes or exclusives.

It currently does not have any alternatives or combinations with the previous revival seasons.

The DVDs can be purchased at Walmart, Barnes and Noble, and anywhere else DVDs are sold.

The shows can also be purchased digitally on Vudu, Amazon, and YouTube.

Since Are You Afraid of the Dark? is the property of Nickelodeon and Paramount and is also available to stream with a Paramount Plus subscription.

#are you afraid of the dark #ayaotd #ayaotd nick #nickelodeon #nick #ghost island #curse of the shadows #carnival of doom #nick dvd #physical media

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zackmartin · 2 years ago

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which season of the are you afraid the dark? reboot is the best and why is it curse of the shadows

#i'm right argue with the wall #like listen they're all good. but curse of the shadows will always be famous #are you afraid of the dark reboot #curse of the shadows

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goddessofvalyria · 3 months ago

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THE SWEET TASTE OF BLOOD | Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Summary: Aemond Targaryen was a vampire and he always dreamed for centuries of her, a princess from a fallen kingdom destined to be his. One day, that dream became true.

TW: 18+, MINORS DNI, SMUT, She/Her pronouns, oral (f receiving), fingering, sexual tension, sex, blood, blood sucking, biting, blood play. A little bit of Dark Aemond. This one shot is inspired/has the vibes of "Bram Stocker's Dracula".

English is not my first language, be kind <3

This is my Masterlist

Words: 4230

The wind howled through the twisted branches of the dead trees, a mournful sound that echoed through the desolate, mist-laden landscape of the Foreign lands. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a pale, ghostly light over the land. The castle loomed in the distance, its towering spires piercing the darkness like the fangs of a monstrous beast. It was an ominous sight, a place that had long been abandoned by the living but was far from empty.

The Lost Princess stumbled through the dense fog, her feet dragging over the uneven ground. She was weak, her clothes torn and dirty from weeks of wandering through the wilderness. Her kingdom had fallen, her people scattered, and she had been left with nothing but her dreams—dreams that had led her here, to this cursed place. Dreams of a castle, a dark prince, and a destiny she could not escape. She had thought they were mere fantasies, the desperate imaginings of a lost soul. But now, as she stood at the foot of the castle gates, she knew the truth. This was where she was meant to be.

“Who… who lives here?” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the wind.

Suddenly, the great iron gates creaked open, as if summoned by her words. She took a hesitant step forward, drawn by an unseen force, a compulsion she could not resist. Her heart pounded in her chest, a frantic rhythm that matched the wild pulse of the storm around her. She knew she should turn back, that no good could come from entering such a place. But something—a whisper in the wind, a shadow in the corner of her eye—compelled her forward.

Inside, the castle was as she had seen in her dreams: vast, dark, and foreboding, with high ceilings and walls lined with ancient tapestries. The air was cold, the silence almost suffocating. She moved through the hallways, her footsteps echoing off the stone floors, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

And then she saw him.

He stood at the far end of the great hall, bathed in the dim light of a dozen flickering candles. He was tall, with silver hair that fell to his shoulders and a sapphire glinting in place of his left eye. His skin was pale, almost luminescent in the candlelight, and his lips curved into a slow, knowing smile as he watched her approach.

"Prince Aemond Targaryen" he whispered, recognizing her from his dreams. The name sent a shiver down her spine, a strange mix of fear and familiarity. She should have been afraid, and yet…

"Welcome, my princess" Aemond's voice was smooth, a dark velvet that seemed to caress her very soul. "I have been waiting for you."

His words were both a greeting and a confession. She could feel the weight of his gaze, the intensity of his desire. It was as if he had been waiting for her, not just for days or months, but for centuries.

"You… you know me?" she stammered, her mind reeling.

"I have seen you in my dreams, just as you have seen me, I know" he replied, stepping closer. "You are the one I have been searching for, the one I have longed for. You are mine."

The princess felt a rush of emotions—fear, confusion, anger. "I am no one's" she protested, taking a step back. "I am my own."

Aemond's smile widened, revealing the tips of his fangs. "You say that now, but soon you will understand. You are mine, as I am yours. We are bound by fate, by a destiny that cannot be denied."

She turned to flee, panic surging through her veins, but the doors slammed shut behind her with a force that rattled the walls. She was trapped.

"Let me go!" she cried, her voice breaking with fear. "Please, let me go!"

Aemond was upon her in an instant, his movements faster than her eyes could follow. He caught her by the arm, his grip firm but not painful. "You cannot leave" he said softly, his breath warm against her skin. "Not now. Not ever."

Tears streamed down her face as she struggled against him, but he held her fast. "Why? Why are you doing this?"

"Because I need you and you need me" he whispered, his voice almost desperate. "Because I cannot be alone anymore. You are the only one who can understand my pain, my suffering. You are the only one who can save me from this eternal darkness."

She looked up into his eyes—his one remaining eye a vivid violet, the sapphire a cold, unfeeling blue. For a moment, she saw the truth in his words, the loneliness, the despair that lay beneath his cruel exterior. And in that moment, she felt a strange, inexplicable connection to him, a pull she could not resist.

"I… I don't understand" she murmured, her voice trembling.

"You will" he promised, his lips brushing against her temple. "In time, you will" and then he locked her in her new chambers.

"Let me go!" she screamed knocking the door, but he never came back. "Let me go, fucking bastard!" after hours spent to screams, she knew that she needed to surrender. Those dreams were too vivid, too realistic and she never have talked to anyone. After the fallen of her kingdom she was the only one survivor and she left in the night or she will be dead from her enemies, those rebels who let the war begins.

It was her dreams that had led her there.

Two moons passed soon, and the princess lay in her chambers, feverish and weak. Her skin was pale, her breathing shallow and labored. She had grown ill from the cold and damp, and she had not fed since she had arrived, or rather, she had refused. Aemond watched over her, his expression unreadable every night, entering her chambers. He had promised himself that he would not harm her, that he would not give in to the darkness that consumed him. But now, as he watched her suffer, he knew he had no choice.

If he did not bite her, she would die.

Aemond Targaryen sat in the dim light of the chamber, watching the Lost Princess as she lay feverish on the bed. Her skin was pale, a sickly sheen of sweat covering her body, and her breaths came in short, labored gasps. The fever had taken hold days ago, and nothing he did could break it. Her suffering was like a dagger to his heart, twisting deeper with every pained breath she took.

“I cannot let you die” he whispered, his voice breaking under the weight of his emotions. “I cannot lose you.”

The princess trembled, her body wracked with fever. She turned her head away from him, her eyes wet with tears. “Stay away from me!” she pleaded, her voice weak but filled with a resolve that surprised even her. A single tear escaped and rolled down her cheek, a silent testament to her fear and despair. “I would rather die like my family than live like this.”

Aemond flinched at her words. He could feel the sting of her rejection, the pain of her fear. She still did not understand—could not understand—the depth of his love for her, the madness that gripped his soul for centuries, compelling him to do whatever it took to keep her by his side. His obsession, his love, his need—it was all-consuming, and he could not bear the thought of losing her.

"You do not mean that" he said, his voice low and urgent, trying to reach her through the fog of her fever. "You do not understand what you are saying. You are confused, and the fever… it is making you delirious."

She closed her eyes, as if trying to shut him out, her breath coming in quick, shallow pants. “I would rather die” she repeated, her voice a mere whisper. “I would rather die than become a monster.”

Aemond’s jaw clenched, anger and fear warring within him. “You speak of death as if it is a choice,” he hissed, his control slipping. “But I will not allow it. I cannot allow it. I need you, and I will not lose you—not to fever, not to anything.”

The princess turned her head, her eyes blazing with a feverish intensity. “It is not your choice!” she spat, her voice trembling. “You cannot decide my fate. I would rather die with honor, as my family did, than live as one of the damned.”

His face darkened at her words, a shadow passing over his features. “Your family is gone” he said coldly, his voice like ice. “They cannot help you now. But I can. I can save you.”

“Save me?” she cried, a desperate, bitter laugh escaping her lips. “Save me by damning me? By turning me into a creature like you?”

Aemond’s patience snapped. He moved swiftly, his hand reaching out to press her down against the bed, his strength easily overpowering her weakened form. “I do this for you” he said, his voice shaking with emotion. “For us. You do not understand now, but you will. In time, you will see.”

She struggled beneath him, weak and feverish, but defiant. “No,” she begged, her voice breaking. “Please, Aemond… don’t do this. I beg you, let me go.”

His expression softened for a brief moment, a flicker of pain in his eye. “I am sorry” he murmured, leaning closer, his lips brushing against her throat. He could feel the weak flutter of her pulse beneath his touch, a fragile, fading thing. “Forgive me” he whispered, his voice barely a breath.

Then he bit her.

She screamed, a sharp, agonized cry in the moment his fangs pierced her skin, he felt a rush of warmth, of life, of power. Her blood filled his mouth, hot and sweet, and he drank deeply, savoring the taste, the connection, the bond that formed between them. He could feel her life mingling with his, their souls entwining, becoming one.

The princess gasped, her eyes flying open as the pain of his bite gave way to something else—something deeper, something primal. She could feel him inside her, his thoughts, his emotions, his desires. She could feel his love, his obsession, his desperation. And she realized, with a sudden, startling clarity, that she had always known him. That she had always been his.

As he pulled away, her body went limp, her eyes closing as the fever broke, her breathing evening out. Aemond cradled her in his arms, his heart pounding with a strange mix of relief and fear. He had done it. He had saved her. But at what cost?

"You are mine" he whispered, his lips brushing against her forehead. "Forever."

And deep within her, the princess felt a stirring, a dark hunger that mirrored his own. She was his, now and always. Bound to him by blood, by fate, by a love that would last for eternity.

The castle doors swung shut behind them, sealing them inside, together, forever.

Outside, the storm raged on, the wind howling like a chorus of lost souls, mourning the fate of the princess who had wandered into the darkness… and never returned.

The black castle in the Foreignlands had grown colder since the night Aemond Targaryen had bitten his Princess. Shadows moved like living creatures along the walls, and the ancient stones seemed to hum with a dark energy. The castle was a place out of time, a twisted realm where day never fully broke and night reigned eternal.

The princess wandered the halls, her steps light and cautious, the silk of her gown trailing on the cold stone floors. Her body was different now—stronger, faster. Her senses were sharper; she could hear the faintest whisper of wind, see every detail of the darkness, smell every scent that wafted through the air. But more than anything, she could feel a new, gnawing hunger that clawed at her insides—a hunger she didn't understand and was afraid to satisfy.

Aemond watched her from the shadows, his single violet eye following her every move, his sapphire eye cold and unfeeling. He knew the transformation had been difficult for her. He could feel her fear, her confusion, and her anger. She had not yet embraced what she had become. She did not yet understand the power that flowed through her veins.

"You must feed, my love" Aemond whispered one night, stepping from the darkness to stand beside her. "You cannot resist it forever."

The princess turned to face him, her eyes wide with a mixture of longing and fear. "I don't want this" she said, her voice barely a whisper. "I never asked for this."

Aemond reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "No, but it is what you are now. It is what we are. You are mine, and I am yours. We are bound together, forever."

She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. "I don't know how to live like this" she confessed. "I don't know how to be… this."

Aemond's expression softened, a rare flicker of tenderness crossing his features. "Then let me teach you" he said gently. "Let me show you how to embrace what you are, how to wield the power within you."

One night later. . .

Aemond sensed the stranger before she did—a faint heartbeat in the distance, a whiff of human scent. Someone had dared to enter his domain, his castle. His lips curled into a predatory smile.

"Tonight, my love" he whispered to the princess, who stood beside him, her eyes wide with anticipation. "Tonight, you will learn what it means to be one of us."

Together, they moved through the shadows, silent and swift. The princess could feel the energy coursing through her, the thrill of the hunt awakening something deep inside her. She glanced at Aemond, his face a mask of calm, predatory intent, and felt a strange sense of comfort in his presence. He had promised to teach her, and she trusted him, even in this.

The stranger—a lone traveler who had lost his way—wandered through the darkened halls, his torch flickering in the gloom. He was muttering to himself, his eyes darting nervously from side to side. The princess could hear his heartbeat, fast and erratic, like a frightened animal. She could smell the fear on him, a scent that made her mouth water, her fangs itch.

"Go to him" Aemond murmured in her ear, his voice a seductive whisper. "Feel his fear. Taste it. Let it guide you."

She hesitated, fear and hunger warring within her. "I… I don't know if I can."

Aemond's hand was on her shoulder, firm and reassuring. "You can" he insisted. "You must. There is no other way. Trust yourself. Trust me."

She looked at him. "Do it" he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. "Claim what is yours."

Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward, moving closer to the stranger. The man turned at the sound of her approach, his eyes widening in surprise and fear as he saw her. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could utter a word, she was upon him, her new strength and speed carrying her across the room in an instant.

She could feel his warmth against her, the frantic beat of his heart beneath her fingers. She hesitated, her fangs poised over his neck, and for a moment, she thought she might pull away. But then she felt Aemond behind her, his presence a dark, comforting shadow, and she knew she could not turn back.

With a surge of determination, she sank her fangs into the man's neck, a rush of warmth flooding her mouth. The taste of his blood was intoxicating, a dark, rich elixir that filled her with a powerful, primal energy. She drank deeply, feeling the stranger's life force flow into her, feeling his heartbeat slow and then stop altogether.

The man whimpered, his eyes squeezing shut, but before he could utter a word, she sank her fangs into his neck. The moment his blood touched her lips, she felt a rush of warmth, a surge of energy that flowed through her veins like fire. The taste was intoxicating, a dark, rich elixir that filled her with a heady sense of power and pleasure.

Aemond watched her, his expression one of dark satisfaction. “Yes” he murmured, his voice thick with approval. “Yes, that’s it. Drink, my love. Drink deeply.”

She did as he commanded, drinking deeply, feeling the man’s life force flowing into her, mingling with her own. She could feel his heart slowing, his body growing weaker, and it filled her with a dark, thrilling pleasure. She felt Aemond move behind her, his hands on her shoulders, his lips brushing against her ear.

“Do you feel it?” he whispered, his voice a low, seductive growl. “Do you feel the power, the life flowing into you?”

She nodded, unable to speak, her senses overwhelmed by the rush of blood, the heady mix of fear and pleasure. She could feel Aemond’s hunger too, his own desire mingling with hers, and it drove her on, urged her to drink more, to take more.

Aemond lowered his head to the man’s other side, his own fangs sinking into his flesh, drinking deeply. Together, they drained him, their bodies pressed close, their breaths mingling in the cold, dark air. The man’s life faded between them, his struggles growing weaker until, finally, he went still.

When it was over, they pulled away, their lips stained with blood, their eyes glowing with a fierce, predatory light. The princess felt a surge of exhilaration, a thrill of power and satisfaction that she had never known before. She turned to Aemond, her chest heaving, her body trembling with the aftershocks of their shared feeding.

Aemond looked at her, his face flushed, his lips curved into a dark, satisfied smile. “You see?” he said, his voice a low purr. “This is what we are. This is what we can be together.”

She stared at him, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps, her body alive with sensation. “I… I understand now,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I feel it… I feel everything, Aemond”

He reached out, pulling her close, his hands sliding over her blood-slick skin. “Good” he whispered, his lips brushing against hers, tasting the blood still lingering there. “You are very good girl, princess.”

They kissed, the taste of blood mingling on their tongues, their bodies pressing together in a fierce, primal embrace. The princess could feel the heat of him, the hunger, the desire, and she responded in kind, her hands gripping his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin.

They moved together, a slow, seductive dance, their bodies slick with blood, their hearts pounding in unison. Aemond pushed her back against the cold stone wall, his lips trailing down her neck, his hands roaming over her body. She arched against him, a low moan escaping her lips, her body alive with need.

He kissed her deeply, his tongue sliding over hers, tasting the remnants of their shared feast. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer, feeling the hard press of his body against hers, the heat of his skin, the intensity of his desire.

“Do you see now?” he whispered against her lips, his voice a low, seductive growl. “Do you see what we are, what we can be?”

“Yes,” she breathed, her eyes half-closed, her body trembling with need. “Yes, I see.”

He smiled, a dark, wicked smile that sent a shiver down her spine. “Then let us become one,” he said, his voice thick with desire. “In blood and in body.”

Without another word, he swept her into his arms, carrying her to a stone altar in the center of the room. He laid her down upon it, his hands roaming over her body, his lips trailing kisses along her neck, her collarbone, her breasts covered. She moaned, her body arching beneath him, her skin alive with sensation.

He moved over her, his body pressing against hers, his breath hot against her skin. She could feel his hunger, his desire, his need, and it mirrored her own. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer, urging him on.

"I need you" she whispered, Aemond began to undress her, he brought his hands to the laces of her dress starting to undo it, he brought his hands to her bodice, then to her slip undressing her frantically. Her body was beautiful, divine, a temple to be loved and honored. Her skin was white and smooth like that of any noble, perfumed and fucking inviting.

Their kiss was fierce, primal, driven by a hunger that went beyond mere physical desire.

Aemond whispered her name and then pressed his mouth against hers again, stripped of his clothes, naked above her he looked like a devil: the strongest, most beautiful and dangerous. He was like that, an enigma. He had the body of a warrior, toned abs and a strong and soft chest that she wanted to kiss. His arms were long and veiny just like his hands. Under the soft moonlight that entered the castle windows, the vampire prince looked at his princess, caressed her blood-stained face and went down with his blood-stained hands on her body, both dirty and covered in the scarlet red liquid.

"Mine for eternity" he hissed leaning down, kissing her where her heart was. Her blood-stained skin was fucking hot, the feeling of his lips wrapped around her breasts drove her crazy, she arched her back when he wrapped his lips around her nipple and she ran her hands through his silver hair. Aemond felt her melt under his touch, he slowly moved down with kisses and opened her legs.

"Aemond…" she whispered feeling the blood running down her body, dirty as well as Aemond's. "My beautiful damned princess, my… bride." he gently opened her legs, placed a kiss on her wet cunt.

"Oh!" a moan escaped her lips when she felt Aemond's mouth press against her pussy. She began to move her hips against his face, her legs tightly wrapped around his head, shaking, arching as she moaned his name that echoed through the dark walls of the castle. All she felt was his mouth and fingers making her feel pleasure.

Aemond curled his fingers inside her, his tongue licked her clit and felt her come, she cummed over his lips. "Aemond…oh!" she trembled so much. Her prince rose from her body, took his long, hard, wet, precum-tipped manhood in his hand and rubbed himself against her.

"I've never done this before" she whispered feeling small against the rock beneath her. "I'll be gentle" Aemond whispered licking his lips, their bodies claiming each other. "And with that I take you as my bride" with a sharp thrust he began to move slowly inside her. "And I take you as my husband" she whispered feeling the invasion between her thighs.

"Wet, tight, ready just for me" he whispered unable to hold back his little moans His hips suddenly slammed harder against hers.

They moved together in perfect harmony, their bodies slick with sweat and blood, their cries echoing through the darkened halls. She could feel the power building within her, a dark, consuming force that threatened to overwhelm her. But Aemond was there, guiding her, grounding her, his touch both tender and demanding.

"Do you feel it?" he whispered, his voice a low, seductive growl. "Do you feel the power, the strength, the life flowing through you?"

"Yes," she gasped, her nails digging into his back, drawing blood. "Yes, I feel it."

He fucked her against the stone altar, his cock tearing her open with every thrust, her moans echoing off the stone walls of the castle. She moaned, a mess, letting herself be used. Lost in pleasure, lost in those kisses that tasted like sin.

Aemond kissed her, drawing a moan from her, making her submit to him and his thrusts. Hell, he was drunk on her, on his bride, on the woman he had waited for centuries and who he could now love and who was his.

He groaned, his body shuddering against hers as he reached his climax, his fangs sinking into her neck, drinking deeply. She cried out, her own release following moments later, her body convulsing beneath him, her vision going white with pleasure.

When it was over, they lay together, their bodies intertwined, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. Aemond held her close, his lips brushing against her forehead, her cheek, her lips. "You are mine" he whispered, his voice soft, almost tender. "Now and forever, wife."

She nodded, her eyes heavy with exhaustion, her body still tingling with the aftershocks of their lovemaking. "And you are mine" she whispered back, her voice barely audible. "Forever, husband."

The castle was silent once more, the shadows creeping back into their corners, the air thick with the scent of blood and sweat. Outside, the storm had passed, the wind dying down to a soft, mournful whisper.

They lay together in the darkness, their bodies entwined, their souls bound by blood and by love, forever.

This was the sweet taste of blood.

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bloddysnow · 3 months ago

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Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High?

Synopsis: You are summoned by Sylus in the middle of the night, a familiar occurrence whenever Sylus is drunk. Your encounter is filled with raw passion, where Sylus seeks solace in desperate sex as a way to cope with his inner turmoil.

warnings: nsfw minors dni. Sub! Sylus, soft dom! reader. reader is gn. (cock or strap), possessive behaviour, smoking, alcohol, anal sex. mention of masochism.

It’s three in the morning. The sky is dark, with stars peeking through the occasional cloud. The moon hides behind them, only occasionally slipping out to dimly light the street with its pale glow. You step out of the car, closing the door. The street is empty, everyone around is asleep, and only the sound of your footsteps can be heard.

You walk toward his house. The streetlight nearby casts a dim glow on the pavement, creating long shadows from the trees and bushes. A slight breeze rustles the branches.

You were asleep when the sharp ring of the phone jolted you from sweet slumber. You were ready to curse whoever woke you at such an hour until you saw who was calling.

You picked up the phone and brought it to your ear, still somewhere between sleep and reality. The voice on the other end was raspy, broken, with clear signs of drunkenness. He spoke softly, almost in a whisper:

"Could you come, please?"

As you get closer to the door, you notice that no lights are on. The house stands dark and still, almost abandoned. Pressing the doorbell, you wait, listening to faint sounds coming from inside. The door slowly opened.

Sylus appeared in front of you. He looks completely exhausted. Dark circles under his eyes suggest he hasn’t slept for several nights. He’s wearing a dark robe. His hair was wet, droplets of water clinging to the tips, as if he just got out of the shower.

He just stares at you for a moment, saying nothing, then steps aside, inviting you in without a word, leaving the questions for later.

As soon as the door quietly closes behind you, you feel Sylus suddenly pull you toward him. His lips find yours in a sudden, desperate kiss. He kisses you roughly, pushing you against the wall. His hands grip your clothes tightly, as if afraid you might slip away.

Your teeth clash against each other, and his tongue insistently invades your mouth, greedily sucking on your tongue, leaving you no room to breathe. You can taste the alcohol, and with every second, it becomes more and more apparent. This only makes the kiss wilder. His arms wrap tightly around your neck, pulling you even closer so that there’s no space between you.

Sylus suddenly pulled back, as if trying to control his emotions. He rests his head on your shoulder, his breathing becoming slightly more measured but still hot and heavy. You feel him take a deep breath of your scent. His voice is soft as he whispered directly into your ear:

“[name]… I need you as hell.”

This wasn’t the first time he drunk called you. Every time he was under stress, his only way to cope was to drink and then—call you. You knew this routine by heart: the late-night call, the raspy voice, and the plea to come. You knew that behind this was a deep emotional pain he could never express with words.

It was as if he was trying to drown something inside himself, and in sex with you, he sought comfort, or perhaps salvation. There were moments when, in the heat of passion, you noticed how his body trembled, and tears streamed down his cheeks while he held onto you.

Every time, it left you with mixed feelings. You kept coming because you understood that in those moments, he needed you the most, even though it was hard for you.

Each time you move faster, the leather couch squeaks, making rhythmic sounds.

At some point, you glance down and see Sylus’s body starting to convulse. His legs are tightly wrapped around your torso, knees tucked in, heels pressed against your back. His muscles tense up, and he throws his head back. You see him cum, his sperm spilling onto his own stomach. His face contorts in pleasure, eyes squinted, hands tremble as he clings to you, getting out his orgasm.

Finally, his body relaxed, hands slowly slipping off of you, and grip loosens. You could feel the tension leaving him, and as you get up, you sit beside him. Reaching for a pack of cigarettes, you took one, placing it between your lips, and with a flick of the lighter brought the flame to the edge. The first deep inhaled fills your lungs with smoke.

You heard the leather couch rustling quietly next to you. Sylus slowly moved, sitting on your lap. You pull the cigarette away so as not to accidentally hurt him. His face pressed against your neck. You gently run your hand through his hair, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

"Sylus, you like it? Feel better now?"

He tilted his head to meet your gaze, staying silent for a few seconds, just looking into your eyes. There’s something in his gaze that you can’t quite comprehend. Slowly, without a word, he reached for your hand wich was holding the nearly smoked cigarette.

Sylus brought it to his chest and, without breaking eye contact, pressed the burning end against his skin, leaving a scorching mark. A soft sizzling sound is heard as it begins to go out. His face remained calm, but you can feel the tension in his body, see how the pain reflects in his breathing.

“I like everything you do with me [name].”

It was truly difficult to understand him. Every gesture, every emotional reaction seemed so contradictory. He was a person who hid his feelings behind masks and extremes, making his behavior almost unpredictable. You tried to make sense of it, but every time you felt like you were only scratching the surface of what was really going on inside him.

He lowered his gaze, the corners of his lips rise in a sly grin when he noticed that you’re hard again.

#dom reader #sub character #love and deepspace #sub love and deepspace #sub lads #sub l&ds #sylus x reader #sub sylus x reader #sub sylus #x reader #rafayel x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader

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kaces-graham-crackers · 27 days ago

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To Die For - Halloween Special

Monster Hunter Wednesday Addams x Werewolf Reader

Summary: Y/N, a lone werewolf, finds themself hunted by none other than Wednesday Addams of the infamous Addams Family—but this isn’t a typical chase. Wednesday wants to understand them. As they set a trap for a darker creature lurking in the woods, alliances blur, and both hunter and hunted face more than they bargained for.

Word count: 5.5k

The air was thick with the scent of pine and rain as you moved through the dense forest, your breath coming in sharp bursts. The moon was high, hidden behind clouds, but you didn't need its light. Every instinct and nerve in your body was attuned to the woods around you, heightened by the curse coursing through your veins.

You stopped, catching a scent—something unfamiliar, cold. It wasn't the usual wildlife or the damp earth. It was different. And it was close. You knew what it meant. They'd sent someone after you. And that someone was closer than you expected.

A figure stood on the edge of the clearing, watching with an intensity that made the hair on the back of your neck rise. Dressed in all black, she was still as stone, her pale skin almost ghostly in the shadowed forest. Her eyes, dark and calculating, were locked on you. She wasn't afraid, and she wasn't here to run. She was here for you.

Wednesday Addams.

You'd heard the name whispered through the underground networks of the supernatural. A hunter—someone who sought out the monsters that lurked in the shadows, just like you. Most avoided her, too afraid of her family's infamous reputation, but not you. You had faced far worse than a cold-hearted girl with a knack for finding trouble. And yet, something about her unnerved you. Without taking your eyes off her, you moved back a step, your pulse quickening. But Wednesday made no move to follow. She just stood there, her hands clasped neatly behind her back, as if she had all the time in the world to watch you squirm. "Running won't help you," she said, her voice low, almost a whisper. "I'll find you either way." You swallowed hard, your heart hammering in your chest. You'd outrun hunters before. But something told you Wednesday wasn't like the others. This wasn't just a hunt. It was a game to her. "I'm not in the mood for games," you growled, your voice low and rough as you fought against the pull of the full moon's power creeping under your skin. Wednesday's expression remained unchanged, her gaze gleaming in the dark. "Who said anything about games?" You weren't sure what it was about her—her calm, almost detached demeanor or how she watched you with that piercing gaze—but it made you uneasy. And yet, there was something else, too. Something that made your chest tighten in a way you didn't want to acknowledge.

But before you could say anything more, Wednesday took a step forward, closing the distance between you in one swift motion. "I'm not here to kill you," she said softly, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife. "Not yet." The unspoken implication hung in the air, thick and heavy. You clenched your fists, fighting the instincts rising within you—the urge to run, fight, and protect yourself. "Then what do you want?" you demanded, your voice sharper than you intended. Wednesday tilted her head slightly, her dark eyes fixed on yours with a calculating gleam. "I'm here to observe you." Her words stopped you cold. You'd expected a fight, a chase, something far more dangerous. But curiosity? Curiosity from someone like her? That was something you hadn't prepared for. You narrowed your eyes, trying to gauge her intention. "Observe me?" you repeated, disbelief lacing your voice. "What am I? A science experiment to you?" Wednesday's gaze remained unwavering, unreadable. "Something like that."

The forest seemed to still be around you, the air thick with tension. You felt the full moon's pull lurking just beneath your skin, a dangerous reminder of what you were. But Wednesday stood there, completely unphased, her calm presence unsettling. "And what happens when you've finished your little study?" you asked, your voice low, challenging. Wednesday's eyes flickered, but her expression remained controlled. "That depends on what I find." You let out a slow breath, realizing you wouldn't get a straightforward answer from her. Not yet, anyway. She was too clever, too controlled. The mystery of her intentions hung in the air, thick and unspoken, but it was clear this wasn't the usual hunt. Why me?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady despite the gnawing unease crawling up your spine. Wednesday took another step forward, her gaze sharp and unwavering. "You're different. I don't hunt monsters just because they exist. I hunt them because they interest me. And you, well… you're fascinating." The word "fascinating" sent a shiver down your spine. It wasn't exactly comforting to know you were the subject of her twisted intrigue. But there was something else in how she said it as if she saw something far beneath your surface. "Different, how?" you asked, narrowing your eyes.

Her gaze never wavered, studying you like she could dissect your essence with a glance. "You don't embrace what you are. Most werewolves lose themselves to their instincts, run wild and reckless." Her voice was calm and calculated. "You maintain control—calm, aware, even rational." You bristled at her words, unsure whether to feel insulted or complimented. She was correct; you didn't give in to the hunt as others did. While your instincts were just as strong, you managed to channel them, a level of restraint that had taken you years to develop. "I've observed creatures like you before. But none who... moderate themselves," Wednesday continued, her tone clinical. "A werewolf who seems determined to remain civil." She tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing. "I wonder… just how far that control extends." Her words hit something deep within you, stirring a mix of pride and resentment. You knew what she meant. To a hunter, a monster was expected to behave predictably, to follow their instincts blindly. But you were neither fully human nor beast—which seemed to disturb her. "Curiosity can get you killed, Wednesday," you replied, your voice steady despite the underlying challenge. You should leave me alone. Wednesday's eyes darkened slightly, yet her expression remained as controlled as ever. "You don't really have a choice. I'm not leaving until I figure you out."

You clenched your fists at your sides, feeling the familiar heat rising in your chest as the moon's pull grew stronger. But despite the anger building inside you, there was something else—a strange pull toward her, like a dangerous curiosity of your own. She wasn't like the others who had come after you. She wasn't here to kill or capture. She was here to… understand. And somehow, that made her more dangerous. You took a step back, unsure of how to proceed. But Wednesday, ever the enigma, took the choice out of your hands.

"I'll be around," she said, her voice soft but with an edge. Turning on her heel, she disappeared into the forest's shadows, leaving you alone, heart racing, mind spinning. Watching. She'd be watching you.

Later that night, you prowled through the dense forest, your mind consumed by the routine of your werewolf form. Your senses were heightened—each sound crisp and clear—the rustling of leaves, the distant howl of a predator, the wind shifting through the trees. You moved fluidly, focused on tracking a small rabbit. Tonight was supposed to be like any other—no drama, no interruptions.

But something felt off.

You paused mid-step, your ears twitching as a strange scent drifted. It was sharp, unfamiliar, and sent a cold shiver down your spine. Instinctively, you crouched low, muscles tense, as you scanned your surroundings for the source. The forest had gone deathly silent. The wind shifted, carrying a low, guttural growl—deep and menacing. It wasn't coming from you. Your heart pounded as your eyes darted through the shadows. Just beyond the trees, something was moving. It was larger than anything you had encountered in these woods before. Its shape was indistinct, obscured by the darkness, but its eyes—glowing faint red—pierced through the black, locking onto you. You froze, every instinct screaming at you to back away. Whatever this was, it wasn't human. And it wasn't friendly. Before you could react, the creature lunged, crashing through the trees with feral speed that caught you off guard. You barely leaped aside in time, claws digging into the ground as you dodged its massive form. It landed heavily, the earth trembling beneath its weight. This thing—whatever it was—wasn't like you. It was something else entirely.

The creature turned to face you, its eyes gleaming a deep, unnatural crimson pulsing with intelligence you hadn't expected—cold, calculating, and predatory. It was far larger than any werewolf, its shape unnervingly twisted, with sinewy muscles and long, limbs that moved in an oddly graceful yet erratic manner. Completely furless, looking like it had mange. Under the dim moonlight, you could make out a distorted, warped form—a creature that seemed barely contained, as though it might burst from its own skin at any moment. And then it let out a low, rumbling growl that reverberated through the forest, vibrating through the ground beneath your feet. The sound wasn't just menacing; it was unearthly, like a warning echoing from another realm entirely. This was no ordinary beast. It felt ancient, primal, as though it had been born from something dark and forbidden, something meant to stay hidden in the forgotten parts of the world. And tonight, for reasons unknown, it had surfaced. You backed away slowly, your eyes locked onto the creature as it prowled closer, each step deliberate, its eyes tracking your every movement with an unsettling focus. But it didn't attack—at least, not yet.

Instead, it watched you, its gaze almost… knowing.

You backed away slowly, your eyes locked onto the creature as it prowled closer, each step deliberate, its eyes tracking your every movement with an unsettling focus. But it didn't attack—at least, not yet. Instead, it watched you, its gaze almost… knowing. Before you could react, the creature let out a guttural, almost amused growl, the kind that felt too close to a chuckle for comfort. The sound sent a shiver down your spine, and you braced yourself, baring your teeth, ready to lunge if it came any closer. But the creature merely tilted its head, those burning red eyes narrowing as if it were studying you. Then, to your shock, it spoke. "Don't listen to her," it snarled, the voice low, jagged, and disturbingly clear. "She's told that to the others." You stiffened, the words echoing in your mind as confusion and unease collided within you. Others? Who else had Wednesday hunted like this, and what did this beast know? Your pulse raced, the forest around you feeling darker, smaller, as if the creature's very presence warped reality. You fought to keep your voice steady, masking your unease with a low growl. "What are you?" The creature's grin widened, revealing rows of jagged teeth that gleamed in the faint moonlight. It moved closer, each step slow and deliberate, as if savoring the tension. "I'm what she can't control," it rasped, a sick enjoyment dripping from every word. "You think you're special, different—but she only tells you that to draw you in. To make you weak." It leaned forward, and you caught a faint, metallic scent that was sickeningly familiar.

The creature's breath was warm and rancid, tinged with something that made your stomach turn. Yet it was those eyes—those ancient, intelligent eyes—that held you captive, radiating a dark amusement. "Don't you see?" it continued, its voice now a mocking whisper. "When the time comes, I'll be there to help you. To tear her apart once and for all." A chill ran down your spine, the forest suddenly feeling claustrophobic as the creature's words echoed in your mind. It seemed to drink in your reaction, reveling in the tension between you. It knew something—something about Wednesday, about you—and it enjoyed every second of the torment it was sowing. You swallowed hard, fighting the urge to back away, your instincts warring with the questions churning in your mind. "Why are you telling me this?" The creature let out another rumbling chuckle, stepping back into the shadows, its shape beginning to blur as if it were part of the darkness itself. "You'll understand… soon." And just like that, it melted into the night, leaving you standing alone, heart pounding, and mind spinning with questions. What had just happened? And what did it mean?

Upon stumbling back to your cabin, you stopped in your tracks when you saw her—Wednesday—sitting at the small table, a notepad open in front of her filled with intricate notes and sketches. An entire observation kit was laid out beside her: crossbows, silver-tipped arrows, vials filled with strange liquids, tools crafted with a precision too deliberate for casual use.

Your heart raced, the shock of seeing her in your space sending your senses into overdrive. "How did you get in here?"you snapped, barely able to keep the irritation from your voice. "You need to leave."

Wednesday's gaze lifted, her expression impassive, unphased by your outburst. "I don't leave until I get what I came for."

Your mind reeled, the creature's words still fresh. "That thing out there—it mentioned you," you said, your voice harsher than intended.

Wednesday's eyes sharpened, her mouth setting into a line. "What did it say?"

You hesitated, those chilling words echoing in your mind. "It said… it said you'd told others the same thing. That I wasn't the only one." The knot in your stomach tightened. "Whatever you're doing here, it's not just about me."

For the briefest moment, a shadow of something crossed her face, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. She closed her notepad and stood, her focus now entirely on you.

"That thing you encountered—it's a Hyde," she said, her voice cold yet steady. "A monster driven by pure chaos and destruction. It's been following me since Nevermore."

"A Hyde?" you repeated, confusion and intrigue mingling in your tone.

Wednesday gestured to her open kit, pulling out a crossbow and a vial of poison with practiced ease.

You stared at the crossbow in her hand, your mind reeling as you absorbed everything she was saying. "Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"Because you didn't need to know," she replied matter-of-factly, loading the crossbow with a silver-tipped arrow. "Not until now."

Your chest tightened as you processed her words. She had known this whole time—about the creature, about the danger—and hadn't said a word.

Without missing a beat, Wednesday tossed you a small vial, and you caught it just in time. “Poison,” she said calmly, her gaze unflinching. “If the Hyde comes for you again, don’t hesitate. Use it.”

You stared at the vial, unease prickling your skin. “And what if I don’t get the chance?”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she took a step closer, her gaze intense. “That’s why I’m here.”

The weight of her words settled over you, your heart pounding as you tried to make sense of her sudden closeness, her cold commitment to a plan she hadn’t even shared with you. You stared at the vial in your hand, its weight feeling heavier than it should.

The reality of what was happening settled over you like a thick fog. You didn't know if you could trust Wednesday, but her words rang with an unsettling truth. The creature—the Hyde—wasn't just some random beast. It was hunting Wednesday, and now you had inserted yourself into the middle of it.

"I still don't trust you," you muttered, eyes narrowing as you pocketed the vial.

Wednesday didn't flinch at your words. In fact, she seemed almost amused, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at her lips. "You don't have to trust me," she replied, her voice cold and precise. "You just have to survive."

Then, to your surprise, Wednesday's hand lifted, fingers cool as she brushed them along your cheek. Her gaze remained detached, yet you saw the faintest flicker of something in her eyes—an intensity just beneath the surface.

"I wouldn't want my experiment to get hurt," she murmured, her voice steady and emotionless, though her touch lingered a moment longer than it should have.

You blinked, stepping back to regain some distance, your heart racing as the weight of her words sank in. "This isn't just an experiment," you muttered, voice strained.

Wednesday's gaze remained locked on you, unwavering, assessing. She pocketed her crossbow, securing the kit with quick, calculated movements before returning to you. "Think what you want," she said coolly, her expression unreadable. "But if you hesitate, even once, it won't end well."

Wednesday glanced away, her focus shifting to the open path between the trees as though reading an invisible trail.

"We set a trap," she said, a note of finality in her tone. "Tonight, while it's still hunting. The Hyde will come."

You swallowed, feeling the weight of her plan settle over you, the reality of the danger clearer than before. "And what's the bait?" you asked, your voice low.

Wednesday's eyes flicked back to yours, her gaze calculating. "Us."

Hours later, Wednesday moved ahead, leading you through the dense trees until you reached a small clearing, moonlight spilling down to illuminate the space. The air felt still, a heavy quiet settling over the forest as you both stopped, sizing up the open area.

"This should do," Wednesday murmured, her voice low as she took in the surroundings, her hand brushing over the crossbow at her side. She moved with a calm intensity, arranging her equipment with a precision that left no room for doubt.

You followed her lead, every nerve tingling with anticipation. The clearing felt both vulnerable and strategic, a perfect place to draw out the creature—and for a moment, the gravity of the night settled over you.

Wednesday glanced back, her expression unreadable but her eyes glinting in the pale light. "Remember, it's watching. We need to make this look real."

You nodded, heart pounding as the scene took shape around you, the forest stretching out in every direction. Here, exposed under the open sky, there was nowhere to hide. Just you, Wednesday, and the beast that hunted you both.

Your pulse quickened, but you met her gaze, unwavering. "So, we just… wait for it?"

Wednesday's expression remained steady, almost clinical. "Not quite." She walked to the other end of the clearing, placing her kit down, spreading out items with meticulous precision—a few vials, silver-tipped bolts, and herbs that gave off a faint, sharp scent. Every tool seemed perfectly positioned, each a calculated step in her plan.

"We'll make it look real," she said, a faint chill in her voice. "A fight. The Hyde craves chaos, discord. It will be drawn to the scene."

The idea of faking a battle with Wednesday unnerved you, but as you nodded, your instincts braced for what was to come. The forest grew quieter around you, the night holding its breath.

"Ready?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wednesday's eyes narrowed. "Always."

Without another word, you lunged at her, your hand outstretched to grab her arm. Wednesday moved like a shadow, sidestepping your attack with practiced ease, her expression unreadable. You gritted your teeth and spun around, aiming a low swipe toward her legs. She leapt back, her movements fluid, almost like a dance.

"You think this is all my fault, don't you?" Wednesday spat, her voice cold as ice. "You were always too weak to handle it."

The words hit you harder than you expected, and for a moment, they felt real. You growled, pushing aside the sting of her remark as you charged again, this time with more force. "Weak? You're the one who kept this from me!" you snapped, grabbing her by the collar and shoving her backward.

Wednesday stumbled slightly, but she recovered quickly, her eyes flashing with something dark. "I didn't owe you anything," she hissed, her hand shooting up to grab your wrist and twist it painfully. "You were always just a liability."

The pain in your wrist was sharp, but it only fueled your rage. You shoved her again, harder this time, and Wednesday retaliated by slamming her elbow into your side, knocking the wind out of you. The force of her blow sent you staggering, but you caught yourself, eyes blazing with anger.

"This is all on you!" you shouted, your voice carrying through the trees. You lunged forward, tackling her again, but this time, you grabbed her crossbow from her side and tossed it to the ground. You pinned her beneath you, your heart racing as you stared down at her. For a moment, it almost felt real. The anger, the hurt—it all bubbled to the surface.

Wednesday didn't flinch. Instead, she glared up at you, her cold eyes unyielding.

"Pathetic. You're a pitiful excuse for a beast—frail, lacking the resilience of those I’ve effortlessly dispatched. Survival? It was never in your nature,” she spat, brandishing a blade from her belt as she swiped at you.

"Fight me," you growled, your voice thick with emotion. "Or are you too afraid?"

Wednesday's eyes gleamed with a dangerous light, and for a moment, you saw something almost like pride flash across her face. She gave a small, cruel smile. "Afraid?" she whispered, her voice low and venomous. "Not of you."

That was the cue.

Without warning, Wednesday kicked you off of her, sending you sprawling to the ground. In one fluid motion, she snatched the crossbow from the dirt, her fingers moving with deadly precision as she loaded it. She raised it and aimed—right at you.

Your thumping, and for a split second, you wondered if she might actually fire. But then, just as she pulled the trigger, the bolt flew past you, into the darkness behind. A loud, guttural roar echoed through the trees.

Out of the shadows,

the Hyde arrived,

larger and more menacing than before, its red eyes locked onto her with a predatory gleam.

Wednesday's gaze flicked to you, her voice steady. "Now."

She fired her crossbow, the bolt finding its mark in the creature's shoulder. The Hyde let out another furious roar, lunging forward, claws raking the ground as it charged. You jumped at the beast, claws tearing into its thick hide as you dodged its ferocious strikes, its movements wild and aggressive.

. But it was stronger than anything you'd thought. Wednesday fired bolt after bolt, her shots precise, but the creature was relentless, absorbing each hit with raw, unyielding power.

As you circled the Hyde, its focus split between you and Wednesday, you caught a glimpse of her expression—a fierce determination, her eyes never leaving the target. She reloaded quickly, her movements fluid, calculated, the faintest sheen of sweat on her brow betraying the effort.

The Hyde lunged at you again, its claws slicing through the air, and this time, you couldn't move fast enough. The impact threw you backward, pain flaring as you hit the ground hard, your vision swimming. You forced yourself to rise, catching Wednesday's eye as she aimed again, this time with something stronger—a vial of poison.

In a final act of defiance, you charged the creature, gripping its shoulder and ripping a chunk of flesh away. The Hyde let out a guttural scream, stumbling back before it retreated into the darkness, leaving a trail of blood in its wake.

You dropped to the ground, exhaustion crashing over you as your vision blurred. Blood seeped from a deep wound in your side, soaking into the forest floor. Your limbs felt heavy, and the pain was radiating with each beat of your heart.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Wednesday raise her crossbow, her gaze locked on the retreating figure of the Hyde. She was ready to give chase, her cold determination unwavering. But then, she glanced back, her eyes landing on you, crumpled and bleeding on the forest floor.

In an instant, her stoic demeanor shifted. Without a word, she abandoned her pursuit of the Hyde and hurried to your side, kneeling beside you with surprising urgency. Her hands moved quickly, searching through the small pouch at her side as she pulled out a bundle of gauze and a small vial.

"Stop…" you muttered, trying to push her away with the last bit of strength you had. "The Hyde… you need to go after it."

But Wednesday ignored you, her focus entirely on your wound as she uncorked the vial and poured its contents onto the gauze. The sharp, herbal scent filled the air, and she pressed the soaked gauze firmly against your side, stemming the bleeding with practiced hands.

"Don't be an idiot," she muttered, her voice cold but edged with something you hadn't heard before—something almost like concern. "I'm not letting you bleed out on my watch."

You winced at the pressure, biting back a groan. "But the Hyde… it'll get away."

Wednesday's dark eyes flicked to yours, her expression unreadable but firm. "It's not going to get far. I'll deal with it soon enough. But I'm not letting you die here."

You tried to protest, to urge her to chase down the creature, but she held you in place, her grip unyielding. "If anyone is going to end you, it's me. Not some mindless monster," she said, her tone cold and detached, yet with a hint of something almost… protective.

Despite the pain, a faint smile tugged at the corners of your mouth.

"That's sweet…coming from you."

Wednesday's eyes narrowed, though you caught a flicker of something that almost looked like amusement. "Save your sarcasm," she said, pressing down harder to stop the bleeding. "If you can joke, you're not dead yet."

You let out a shaky laugh, though it quickly turned into a grimace as another wave of pain surged through you. Wednesday didn't flinch, her attention unwavering as she continued to tend to your wound with surprising gentleness.

After a few tense moments, the bleeding began to slow, and the edges of the pain dulled slightly under her careful treatment. You felt your breathing steady, the worst of the pain fading, though exhaustion weighed heavily on you.

"Thank you," you murmured, barely able to keep your eyes open.

Wednesday glanced at you, her expression still cool but softened.”Don't make me regret it," she replied quietly.

You felt a warmth spread through you, despite the cold forest air and the sting of your injuries. She may not have said much, but her actions spoke louder than words. She could have left you there, but she didn't.

As you drifted in and out of consciousness, you felt her shift beside you, her hand resting lightly on your shoulder in a steadying gesture, as if anchoring you to the present. The last thing you saw before darkness claimed you was her face, framed by the shadows, a silent promise lingering in her gaze.

Back in the cabin, you and Wednesday tended to each other's wounds, the silence between you comfortable, though heavy with the exhaustion of the fight. The small flickering fire cast dancing shadows on the walls, its warm glow a sharp contrast to the cold forest outside. You could still feel the adrenaline thrumming through your veins, but a sense of relief had settled over you, knowing the Hyde was gone for now.

Without warning, there was a deafening crash as the cabin's window shattered. The Hyde barreled through, its massive, bloodied form illuminated by the firelight. You barely had time to react before it lunged, claws outstretched, its eyes fixed on you with a vengeful fury.

But in an instant, Wednesday moved, her body positioning itself between you and the beast. The Hyde's claws slashed across her side as she shielded you.

"Wednesday!" you shouted, horror flooding through you as she flew into the wall, with a sickening thud.

The sight of her blood, of her hurt, ignited something primal within you—a fierce, overwhelming rage. The Hyde barely had time to react as you felt yourself transform, the beast within you rising to the surface with a force you'd never felt before. Claws extended, senses sharpened, you lunged at the creature, every muscle fueled by your bottled instinct.

With a savage growl, you attacked, tearing into the Hyde with everything you had. Its roars echoed through the cabin, but you didn't relent, every strike more brutal than the last as your claws ripped through its thick hide. It tried to fight back, but your rage gave you strength beyond anything you'd ever known.

In a final, explosive burst, you brought your claws down one last time. The Hyde collapsed to the floor, its lifeless form finally defeated. You stood over it, chest heaving, the adrenaline fading as the weight of your actions sank in.

Turning back, you felt yourself return to your human form, exhaustion crashing over you as your gaze found Wednesday. She miraculously managed to slump herself against the wall, her hand pressed to her bleeding side, her face pale but her expression calm.

You rushed to her side, dropping to your knees as you frantically checked her wound. "Wednesday, I… I'm so sorry."

She rolled her eyes. “You're insufferably slow," she muttered, her tone sharp as she stifled a wince. "Did you somehow miss me saying it would return?”

Ignoring her words, you fumbled through her kit, searching for the vial she'd used on you before. Your hands trembled as you unscrewed the cap, but Wednesday's hand reached out, stopping you. She took the vial from you, her fingers stained with blood, and poured the medicine over her wound with practiced ease.

You watched her, still frantic, your mind racing. "You shouldn't have taken that hit… I should've protected you."

Wednesday let out a soft scoff, her gaze unwavering as she stared back at you. Then, with a surprising gentleness, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss on your lips, her touch as fleeting as it was reassuring.

"You're too dramatic," she said, her voice soft but steady. "I'd die for you any day, and besides,"—her smirk returned, edged with a warmth that softened her usual cool exterior—"I'd rather go down saving you than by any creature's hand."

The sincerity in her words caught you off guard, and you felt your heart skip a beat. You held her gaze, the intensity of the moment settling over you both like a silent promise.

For the first time in a long time, there was no danger, no threat. Just you and Wednesday, the faint light of the fire casting a soft glow over her face. You swallowed, still reeling from everything that had happened, but her words—her confession—anchored you, grounding you in a way you hadn't expected.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Wednesday gave a small, approving nod, her hand lingering on your arm for just a moment longer. "Now, can you finally help me with this wound?" she deadpanned, though the glint in her eyes betrayed her amusement.

You smiled, your relief flooding through you, and you set to work, carefully tending to her injuries. And as you worked, her steady gaze stayed on you, her words—I'd die for you any day—echoing in your mind, a reminder that, whatever came next, you would face it together.

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