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thebottomfromhell · 1 year ago

Note

Hi! How are you? Sorry if I'm annoying but I had a request: headcanons where the reader is a partner of the upper moons and tells them that he is a trans guy (what I mean is that when the reader started dating them he was a girl but then he started to feel identified as a guy and decided to tell his partner).

I apologize in advance if you don't understand the request ;(((

I understood perfectly what you meant, and I love the request. This is perfect for my first Trans! Reader requests, thank you for asking me this. It's not annoying at all!

Also F/N would be for the female name, while Y/N would be the male name or nickname.

In the end this was a bit rushed and it disn't work out as I would want it, hopefully I will get to write this topic again and better

Trans! Masc! Human Reader confesses their gender to S/O (already together) Uppermoon

Warnings: Mentioned Cannibalism, Transphobia (mostly due misinformarion and such), Heterocisnormativity (most characters don't know or understand 1what being transgender is), Mentioned Gyokko's art, Yandere-like character, Mentioned body dysphoria, Implied sexual content, and Slight dirty-talking (nothing big, just teasing).

Gyutaro:

"Gyutaro?" You start, calling up for hisattention as you look somewhere else. He can sense you are not facing him, so he just gives you a side-eye, paying attention while you get to have more space. "What is it, ne?" Gyutaro knows something is off, you normaly are not like this, afraid of telling him things. Part of him fears he did something wrong or that you can't stand it anymore, that you want to leave... "Ne, what's wrong F/N?" He does his best to ignore the "you" in the back of his mind as he faces you fully, really needing the answer, even if he might not like it.

You take a deep breath, calm yourself, you can do it. You can trust Gyutaro, he probably will be confused, probably a bit skepctic, but it will be fine. Really, you can do it. In the count of three: one, two, t- "I'm a man." No, wait! That was too fast! You were supposed to be more clear, to explain, you were making an speach in your head and just lost it! Gyutaro looks at you a bit weirded out. "Like... ne, an Onnagata?" You try to make yourself smaller as you blush "More like the other way around..." Except you don't want to pass out as a man, you are a man. Your body just... it's not helpful. You loathe that but you can work with that, you have done it all your life, and will be able to deal with it.... right now you actually want support...

"Oh...." He just says because, not gonna lie, he doesn't get it. You... wear always unisex clothes and ne never really paid attention to whenever you were femenine or not. You haven't done anything yet, so Gyutaro never knew your body-type. He just figured you were... odd, not what you should be. He has also felt... odd, too. Uncomfortable under his own skin, the one he scratches so hard. He saw that in you and didn't think anything about it. "Ok." He simply says, leaving you to process it.

""Ok"? That's all you're gonna say?" You expected... something, anything, not just a "ok". He scratches the back of his neck a bit unconfortable. "Ne, give me a break. What else am I meant to say, man?" You open your mouth only to stop talking, an "ok" is a better reaction from what you were expecting, so you force yourself to calm down, even if you are a bit... lost at it. "No, nothing. Emn.... would you mind calling me Y/N from now on?" He justs looks at you, very confused, he doesn't understand it, but still knows enough of how you feel to know you need his support right now, that you need him to listen. "Sure, ne.....Y/N.... nice name, ne." it will take him time to get used to it, but he is here for you no matter what. "Thank you, Gyutaro." He justs nods and looks away bashful, but stays.

Gyokko:

It's hard to say how Gyokko will react, considering... everything. There are chances he might support it, body dysphoria is a topic he loves a lot (thoughz he mostly uses that topic in his art through torture and amputation). There are also chances he might want to leave you for it, since he started a relationship with a woman, and Gyokko hates not being informed of things with time. It's a paradox, without the time that would make him mad you would not be able to get the trust and courage to tell him, so since you didn't tell him before or when you started the relationship... you really have no idea how he will react.

"Gyokko?" You start.... starting, not really knowing what to say right now but not being able to... not tell, it hurts that he doesn't know. Right now he is working on a new pot, so it's just a hmn to show he is listening all you get. You have no idea if that is for better or worse, but not having to make eye comtact calms you a little (specially considering you never know what eye you should be looking at). "I'm a man." He stops for a seconds, he will definetely be mad he lost concentration, but for now he is not reacting.

It takes him a while to pull apart from the pot to look at you, head to feet and back forward, three times. Then he looks at you face, somehow lost. ".... You don't look like one." Ok, that... that was not what you wanted to hear, it... it's a bit dissapointing but you can also get Gyokko's confusion as he tilts his head. You want to explain it, but... you really can't, you have no idea how to make him, the one who is the most comfortable with himself, how you are not. How you don't want to be the you that you should have been by birth, so you just look away. "You made me loose concentration." He decides to change the topic.

He goes back into painting the pot, or at least trying as you both remain in silence. The brush has not even touched the ceramics yet, but he can't go back to the idea he had before you talked to him. In the end he just let the materials to one side an goes back with you. "What do you want to do about... this?" He vaguely gestures you in the last part, clearly not wanting to deal with this but his mind not giving him other choice. "By starters... I would like to be treated as a man...." It takes him a while for that to sink in, only to cough nerviously when he does. "Ok... ok, I can do that." It's not ideal, but it's a start.

Hantengu:

There is something you want to tell him, something important, he can tell. He can tell there is a problem but Hantengu doesn't want to address it, too afraid to do so. Is it about him? Did you do something wrong? Did you get tired of him? You don't want to leave him, fo you? He doesn't want you to leave. "Hantengu..." he squeals scared, starting sobbing almost inmediately when he hears you. He doesn't like that tone. "F-F-F/N?" He sees you grimace and he wanta to cry harder. You ARE going to leave him! He can't tell you just... hate that name, that you can't stand it anymore, specially not from him, someone you care about so much.

"I need to tell you something." You don't look at him, part of you feeling guilty for it. You know he is sensitive, that he always needs as much resourance as possible, but... it's hard. You just want him to... to know who you are, who treat you the way you need. Both of you are in their own torments, waiting for the other to explode. You can't leave him, he won't let you! Hantengu trembles violently as you sigh to speak again, he won't let you leave. You will try but he won- "I'm a man."

.... eh? ".... eh?" He blinks a few times, stopping crying..... eh? What? You are a man? He thought.... eh? But you have always been.... eh? "This... this is so confusing...." his brain was in middle of a breakdown just before, it csn't take such an important information right now. "I know. I know. I will explain it... when I can... but I really would like to... be treated as a man?" Hantengu really is not understanding anything at all. How can you be a man? Without him knowing? Is there anything else he doesn't know?

Still, he is too tired from the emotional rollercoaster and will not fight it further, that should be Aizetsu's and Sekido's problem. ".... ok..." he answers quietly, not looking at you, but you aporeciate he is willing to try. "Ok... that you, Hantengu." He justs nods... it's very akward....

Sekido:

Part of you wants to pretend that Sekido, your partner, will take it well, that he will be understanding and supportive. The other part of you is more realistic on the fact that you can't forget he is the anger clone. He will probably come to accept it, but... Sekido will get angry, angrier, irritated, indignant, infuriated. To be honest that is why you basically wait until you just... explode to tell him, because you couldn't stand anymore being treated as if you were a woman, to be called that or other fem terms. You can't, it's not you, and it hurts the fact that the one you love is not seeing you, but someone else in you, someone you don't want to exist.

"Sekido... Sekido, just... please, I promise I was not hiding anything, I just didn't know how to tell you but I can't! I just can't continue like this." You basically ramble one night he finds you panicking of what to say and how to say it. "Shut up." He growls as he tries his best to calm you down, rubbing your back, giving you a piece of clothe as you are near crying, getting you to sit somewhere comfortable. Sekido loves you, he shows it, and that is what it makes it hard. "I'm a man."

"Are you fucking shitting me right now?" Is the first thing he says after you calm down, but you can see he is, as always, angry. "The fuck you mean you are a man? You think now is the time to mess with me?!" You switch in between looking away and looking at Sekido, not wanting to face his anger now but also not wanting to run away from this. "I-I'm not! Sekido, I'm a man! I don't want you to keep treating me as if I was a woman anymore!" You raise your voice, only scalating into am argument because of that. You both just... fight until he leaves. Thankfully, that lets you both calm down, and it's Sekido the one who reaches out for you this time.

"Fine. Have it your way." It's a bit difficult for him to adapt to the new you, specially since he would not have treated you as differently as one might have thought with you being a man. At first it was easier to irritate him, then he got used to it. "Y/N! You little shit! What have you done now?!" He is still himself and letting you be yourself around him, you really can't ask for more.

Karaku:

You pride yourself of knowing Karaku, of knowing parts of him he usually doesn't show. Parts that are caring, concerned, honest, and sometimes even vulnerable. Right now? You have no idea how he will react, you don't think he will be mad or anything but... it's something big. You are more afraid that he might not believe you or take it as a joke, but... you want him to know. You need him to know, it hurts that he doesn't. "Karaku... we need to talk." He looks at you confused before chuckling as he leans into you, his arm over your shoulders. "Why the long face, F/N? Is something wrong, hot-stuff? Something you need to put a bit of pleasure over?"

He laughes against your ear after the innuendos, with how close he is, and all the flirt, almost passed through the fact that he called you by that name. At least this time he didn't call you "princess", ypu hate it when he does. Sometimes he slips, since ypu have told him, but he is trying. Hopefully he will try with this too. "Karaku, this is serious. Listen to me before you keep playing around, ok?" He just looks at you staying in place, grinning as he waits for you to speak, raising an eyebrow to show his curiousity. "I'm a man." Suddenly his weight is less over you and the smirk is gone into a confused face, you both stay in silence for a while.

You were about to open your mouth to try again, but Karaku is faster. "Ohhhhhhh. That explains some things. It makes sense!" He starts laughing again before he puts his mouth close to your ear. "Is this why you are so bashful? Would you prefer for me to call you a good boy, handsome?" He whispers and honestly? You can't help but blush and lean into it, making Karaku laugh a bit more before keep going "Tell me, Hot-stuff. Would you like to be Baby boy or Daddy?" Ok, you have no idea if he was serious or not, but you bust into laughing.

"How about you just call me Y/N?" He smiles while you relax. "Sure, I can do that." And he does slip from ypur other name time to time, but he understands the quest pretty well. He does treat you like a man and you don't have to worry about how he views you, specially since he tries to be as helpful as he can. "We should get you more man-like clothing too, might as well steal something for you. What do you think, babe?" You are nothing but grateful that Karaku supports you fully.

Urogi:

"Urogi.... there is something I must tell you..." You have been wanting to tell him, genuinely having no idea on how he would react. Urogi himself probably wouldn't know if asked an hypothetical case, with how spontanoues he is. He might take it good, hemight take it badly, and it's impossible to know which one before it actually happens. But you comfort yourself, being aware that, as the joy clone, he has no reason to be angry about it. He will definetely be confused, but not angry. "Yes, F/N?"

He looks at you happily as he reacts to your call, it would be endearing if he was not using that name. The name of a woman, it hurts to hear it from his mouth, the name of someone that is not you from the person you love. Sometimes you wish you could be just that, that it would be as simple as Urogi views life, but... it's at the very least uncomfortable. So of course you would not have been able to deal with it forever. "I'm a man..." You say as Urogi tilts his head to the side.

"You are a man? But F/N is a girl's name. And you fon't look like a man." You pretend that didn't hurt as much as it did, specially since Urogi is not being malicious, he is just asking questions, like he usually does. But the fact that there is no reaction at all... it's disappointing. One part of you is relieved by the way he is taking it, another one... expected something more, for him to act as it's... something. Instead you just explain things to him. "Does that mean I should call you something else? A boy's name?" But... neverless... "That would be nice. I was thinking about Y/N..."

Urogi suddenly gets excited from nowhere, wings opening and moving cheerfuly. "Yes! That is a nice name! I will make sure to remember it! Y/N! Y/N!" He seems to be taking things too well... "Don't you care that I'm not a woman?" You feel the need to ask because of that, but he only shakes his head before starting again. "Y/N is Y/N! Nothing else matters." Your heartbeat speeds up a little... you really love this Bird Brain. "Yeah... you are right." Urogi chuckles and leans into you, happy to be told he was right. He really is the best.

Aizetsu:

Aizetsu has always been the calmed and sensible one of the clones, never overreacting over anything (even if you feel he actually underreacts sometimes). He is a comfortable person to be around and you would dare to say he is the most empathic of the clones (even if he has his own way, as a demon, to show it). Part of you is scolding yourself for not telling him, for not trust this into him sooner. You can't even understand why you would be afraid, or at least nervious, to tell him if you know he won't be reacting badly. Why is it so difficult? Why does it has to be such a big deal? "Aizetsu?" You call him, so he turns his face to look at you, listening without saying anything.

The silence is usually reasuring, this time is not, but even if he realizes that you are hesitating, Aizetsu doesn't move or say anything, trying to give you space until you say you want otherwise. You take some deep breaths as you scold yourself again, why are you making it such a big deal? He won't react badly. "I'm... I'm a man...." There. You said it... you said it. But Aizetsu still doesn't move or say anything, he just looks at you puzzled that you have to keep reminding yourself that he doesn't have it in him to react bad. Aizetsu is mostly... thinking.

"... I feel sad... and confused. How can you be a man? Why are you saying this now?" He does believe you, but he has no idea what it means. He knows the body you have, the body you had to overcome resenting because it was not created into your true self. "I just needed you to know. I want to be treated as a man." You need to be treated as a man, for others to understand who you are. Aizetsu only keeps the sad puzzled face for a while as he keeps thinking it. "You don't like being a woman?" He makes the question, really needing to understand it. You can only shake your head, you have no idea how to properly explain it with words but... it's not you, being a woman is not being yourself and you can't stand it anymore.

After some moments of silence, Aizetsu speaks again. "Ok, I'll treat you like a man from now on, it will take me some time to get used to it though. Should I also call you differently or something?" See? He is taking it well, you calm yourself further with deep breath before answering. "I would prefer to go by Y/N." He only nods at that, but it's ok. It will be ok.

Nakime:

Nakime has always been a no-nonsense demon, as a human she couldn't have as much control over things as she had now, she didn't have the money or the power to do so, but now? Now she has the Infinity Castle, where she can control everything in any way she wants. But of course, there are some things that are even beyond her. For starters, she is still obeying a master, who she is loyal to, but that sets her under someone else's command. There is also you, while she can control every room, every corridor, every entrance, exit, wall, door, floor, ceiling, air, even the gravity with her biwa, she can't change you nor control how you feel about yourself.

She knows that something is off, and dhe has tried her best to comfort you with no avail. This attemps of her actually made you try to just... ignore it. To pretend you are ok as long as you have Nakime, not wanting to risk what you both have. She has been worried and concerned, always trying her best to make you feel better, which has making you feel guilty, honestly. And there is this sense of hurt building up in your chest, feeling axphyxiated by this... you that is not you, but is being forced upon you, if that makes sense.

"What do you mean by "I'm a man"?" You end up telling her when, once again, she was trying to help you, to comfort you as she could. But... it still frustrated you, and it came so hard to appreciate it, creating again thise sense of guilt, when she was treating you, talking to you as if you were a woman. "I... I mean I'm a man. I want to be treated as such... I can't continue to be F/N... I'm sorry." You want to explain further, but you have no idea how, even if it's unsatifying the feeling that Nakime is not fully u derdtanding it. "You realize this is something big, right? This is not what I was prepared to deal with." Yes, you do, but you can't bring yourself to tell her.

After some minutes without saying anything, silence filled with her biwa, making the moment a bit less tense as she thinks... you don't really want to lose this. "I'll still help you with everything, I wouldn't be able to just leave you but... I want to give us a break, give me a break. I hope you can understand that I need to think of what I want." You can, unfortunately. Part of you feels betrayed, but you can't express it, specially with how many effort Nakime has put into you. "Do.... do you want to be alone?" You shake your head, even as you feel you will start crying, but she lets you stay while hiding it, only focusing in playing her biwa. You have to remind yourself... it could be worse.

Akaza:

You are aware that Akaza treats women differently from what he treats men. He can fight, kill and eat men, but for some reason he can't bring himself to do the same with women, and everytime you try to bring that up... he can't. He physically can't tell you anything. It's frustrating for both of you, but lastly... it's a bit hurtful. You scold yourself, why would you want such a powerful demon to be able to attack you? Shouldn't you be happy that because you are safe, he would never hurt you? It's stupid! Against survival insticts! And yet...

You just want to be treated like a man, be treated in a way that makes you comfortable with who you are. Is that too much to ask? Only because you were born in this body. Sometimes you just want to accept the offer that Akaza always makes, the one to turn you into a demon, that you would forget about this feeling of wrongness, that the transformations and mutations in your flesh would burry your sex and gender. There is even the chance that your body might change in a way that favors you in that regard, to make you bigger, stronger, to get rid of your breast. But you don't want to be a demon...

"Akaza? There is something I need to tell you." You start, gaining his attention, a worried expression coming into his face. "Are you ok? Did something happen? Did somebody hurt you?" His paranoia kicks in, but you shake your head before telling him. "" there is only 15 seconds of silence with his face puzzled before he speaks again. "... I already knew?" wut? "What do you mean by "I already knew"?" He looks at you as if trying to find words to explain. "I just knew?! Like, you don't feel or act like a woman? Your fighting spirit is definetely not from one!" What? "Then why do you treat me like a woman?! As if I was fragile or weak?!" "I don't treat you like a woman! I just promised to protect you!" No he didn'- oh... oh, is his thing.... oh.

Now that you think about it, he never uses your female name... yeah, he definetely knew. Why does that make it so akward. "Em... would you be able to call me Y/N from now on?" He also looks uncomfortable, probanly trying ro remember when did he make that promisa, but nods anyway. "Of course. Of course. Anything for you." .... Why was this supposed to be complicated in the first place? Then again, to spar is still out of question, and it probably will unless you become a demon... you'll see through it.

Douma:

Douma is just waiting for you to confess. You have been together for a while and he can tell there is something you want, crave, to tell him but you haven't. Some of his followers are like that too, shy to tell him all their problems and burden, but at the end of it they always do it, crying and kneeling before Douma. Most of the time he doesn't really care, but he is curious of what could get you like this, since most of the time you are willing to tell him things you don't tell to others. "Douma?" You start, needing to tell him but not really wanting to. "Is there a reason for that long face, F/N?"

It's not that you don't trust him or think he will react bad, but... you don't know how to tell him what you feel, how you can't find yourself in... well, in your body, in your reflection, in any expectations people have in you because of how you were born. The more you think about it, the more tragic it becomes, but... you don't want to tell him a sob story, you want him to see you as who you are... without spilling out like his followers do, to make it sound... bad or painful the fact that you hate the identity that was forced upon you at birth. So "I'm a man..." that is all you say. "I see."

Douma has been more than a century alive doing the same thing, listening to other people's problems, and more than once someone came, crying over resenting their body and gender, about wanting to be something, someone, they simply did not born like. It's not something that comes every week or so, but he knows what is going on. "F/N is a woman's name though, we must find something else for you." He doesn't get it, he doesn't really want to, and could not even begin to phanton what you are feeling right now, but he knows about it, so he knows what you want him to say. That is what you actually feared.

"Y/N...." You answer him, not completely satisfied but not wanting to explain yourself further. You don't want this confession to make things different, yo make you just like another follower. "Y/N is it, then. What a charming name! I'll ask the staff to change your wardrobe into something more masculine. You can wear my clothes in the meantime." But again, Douma just... doesn't feel anything about it.

Kokushibou:

It's been a few days, a bit more than a week, with your usual silent momenta together suddenly being.... uncomfortable. For once he gains the courage to address it, since it seema there ia something you want to say but are constantly hesitating. That is usually his role in the relationship, so he eventually got too worried to just ignore it. "What is it?" He aks firmly, regretting it the after 74 straight seconds passed and you didn't answer even though you clearly heard it. This is one of the few times the silence is unconfortable to him, is there a way to take it back?

"Do you promise to take it seriously?" You know Kokushibou will not joke about your situation, but... you have no idea if he will believe you. You really love him but... he is a nightmare to be with. Always too worried about roles, including hierarchy and gender. You want him to acknowledge who you are, not a woman in his life. You have been actually thinking on breaking up because of it. "... I can try." He is honest with you, and... you want to give it a chance. He genuinely can't promise you to answer as you would like him too, but he can try. You have to see if trying is enough for you, because it has never been for Michikatsu him.

"I'm a man." You would have liked that to ne more firm, more "manly", but right now you just... need to see if you can be vulnerable in fron of Kokushibou. Now he is the onw to stay quiet for longer than needed to have some response, any response at all. "You are?" He is really bad at this, at feelings. He has always been, but because he was a male samurai nobody asked him to be emotionally mature, but to repress and hide his feelings. "I am." You feel the need to confirm it, for him to accept it, whenever he accepts you or not.

"Alright." Kokushibou justs says after a long pause before leaving. Fuck, he is scaping, you should have expected that. It will be some days before he talks to you again. "How... how should I call you now?" He is actually putting effort into it, you didn't expect that. While he is distancing himself, whenever he comes around he is more open. "Call me Y/N." You can work with that.

#demon slayer #kny #upper moons #kny x reader #trans reader #trans masc reader #karaku #urogi #aizetsu #sekido #hantengu #gyutaro #gyokko #nakime #akaza #douma #kokushibou

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rinswritez · 2 years ago

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Daily reminder for writers:

It's ok if your first work is god awful...mine was too, there's no shame in that. Don't worry about making it perfect, just focus on finishing it! Your first few works WILL BE a bit cringy, and there's nothing wrong with that. I'll repeat it one more time. It'll be ok, your first works are bound to suck, just keep on writing and you'll notice an improvement!

That's all kudos to you all! Promote yourselves in the comments if you'd like!

#ao3 #ao3 works #ao3 writer #genshin impact #genshin wanderer #demon slayer x reader #writing #writing commissions #writers on tumblr #writeblr #writerscommunity #trans writers #trans man #trans mlm #trans ftm #ftm #ftm trans #trans guy #trans masc

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11aoq2 · 2 years ago

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[ Sanemi x fem bod trans masc Reader ] *teaser*

warnings: Smut, Soft sex, Oral (reader receiving),slight mentions of trama, self harm, insecure reader. Fem body (man pronouns), READER HAS NOT HAD TOP SURGERY!

*basically just Sanemi and a sensitive reader who is afraid of touch :p *

UM LONG

THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRTING BTW!!——————————————————————————————————

Sanemis hands gently trailed across *readers name* face, slowly lowering down to their waist.

“Nemi- wait” -you grab his hand gently.

“What is it love?” -he lets go of your waist-

Reader : “Please be gentle… I just- um”

-sanemi hugs you- “it’s alright. I know how hard this is for you.”

“Are you sure you want to continue? We can cuddle instead if you want.” -nemi

r: “no no! It’s u-um ok ^^; I do want to…. I’m just a bit nervous.”

nemi: “alright then…” -he slowly pulls you down onto the bed and places you on his lap

*you wrap your legs around him and place gentle kisses on his forehead* “I love you.”

nemi: “i love you to dear. Do I have permission to kiss you?”

r: “ofc!” *small smile*

*Sanemi starts to kiss you and wraps his arms around you*

“I love you so fucking much~ I’m so happy to be with such a handsome man.”

r: “I love you to, I’m also very happy to have you.” ^^

s: “can i?”

r: “yes..”

-sanemi starts to undress you -

-you continue to lay kisses across his neck as you unbutton his shirt -

s:”i love you so much.. your doing amazing.”

r: “thank you.” -you smile which warms sanemis heart

s: *a pink shade covers his cheeks*

r: *chuckles* “awwww I made you flustered ^^”

s: “shut up”

*they both finish getting undressed leaving Sanemi in his boxers and reader in their binder*

R: “nemiiii~” *you reach down to his boxers and tries to take them off”

s: *chuckle* “wait dear~ “

-sanemi removes you off his lap and climbs on top of you-

R: *flustered*

s: “hm…… look how pretty you look!” *he stares down at your bottom half* “I think you may need a bit of stretching out first…”

r: “ehhh?!” *more flustered babbling*

s: “can i?”

r: *nod*

-sanemi kisses you then goes down to your legs and spreads them-

S: “Your so pretty <3 “

r:”thank you-“ *a bit insecure about your SH scars*

S: “hey- it’s okay :) i love your scars love <3 they show you are strong please don’t be insecure! Look I have them too.” *shows his arms*

r: “thanks for that- and your scars are really pretty.”

s: “Thank you. Nowwww back to what I was doing”

-sanemi runs his finger across your folds and covers his fingers in your wetness? (Idk)-

R: *whine*

s:*chuckle* “fineeee”

*Sanemi places 2 fingers inside your hole*

R: sanemi!~ *you yelp at the sudden sensation*

S: it’s okay love… I’m here… tell me if you want me to stop.

R: o-ok….

*sanemi starts pumping his fingers inside you*

R: hah~ nemi!~

S: *chuckle* I love you dear….

*sanemi adds another finger while his other hand is holding yours.*

R: sanemi… Please~

S: hm? Say it~

*he licks your neck*

R: p-please can you-

Sanemi: good enough… but I need a bit of help first as well~

*he sits you down on your knees and he stands infront of you*

S: can I?

R: y-yes…

*sanemi takes off his boxers and his cock springs out*

R: i- *shocked*

s: Surprised?~

#sanemi smut #trans masc reader #Soft smut #Demon slayer #x reader #angst #gentle

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lilpurplegalaxy · 8 months ago

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Feels like i've been dropkicked, especially on my trans masc days

Like and reblog if you can relate

GN and Male Readers when they read an X Reader story when no specification of the Reader's gender and sees the words like, "baby girl" and "princess":

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acupoftaewithsomesuga · 6 months ago

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"𝙋𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙" • 𝙎𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙝𝙬𝙖 𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙠

stalker!Seonghwa x fem!reader (dark romance/horror)

summary• the heavy deadlines are no joke and you are constantly packed with work. You stay after work to catch up on some files when you come across Seonghwa. After your interaction that day your mind is filled with him and only him. Little did you know that his mind is filled with you and so is the scrapbook that lays next to his bed.

warnings• angst, stalking, mental manipulation, crying, breakdown, fear, smut, masturbation, voyeurism, pet names, stripping, praise kink, penetration, unprotected sex, filthy dirty talking, sloppy oral (fem&masc!recieving), choking/gagging, biting, spitting, slapping/spanking, cum eating, rough sex, cream pie, after care. (lmk if I forgot something!)

videos/audios to view before reading

w/c• 11.2k

a/n• I wanna start by saying that this might trigger many of you so please do not interact if any of the warnings sound like they would mentally put you in a dark space!!! Your mental health matters!!! It is officially the month of Halloween and this is the last member of the OT8 saga!!! I plan on making another one for October (hopefully). All I will say is that Demon Line is gonna bless your feed this October. I also want to thank @rems-writing, @itsnotmydejavu, and @xomakara for helping me with ideas and giving me feedback! Anyway, my inbox is always open! Happy reading!

taglist• @rems-writing @st4rhwa @sugarnspice630 @joongiesmoon @no1likevie @woohwababes @hongjoongswife1 @blackb3ll @staytiny23 @ccalyse

network• @othersideoutlawsnetwork

•masterlist•

It was another Friday evening and the automatic lights in the office shut off. You looked at the clock beside your desk and sighed, “Almost done just 20 more documents to go through.” Working in one of the most popular accounting and auditing companies in South Korea came with a lot of demands and deadlines. Today was one of those nights where you stayed many hours after your shift was done. Throughout the day you saw people funnel out of the office at 5 pm. It was now 7:00 pm and you looked up to see the sun dimming down. You looked through the large glass window and started to question your purpose.

You quickly brushed away your thoughts and got out of your rolling chair. You made your way to the breakroom and made yourself a cup of coffee. You turned on the coffee maker and tossed the old coffee down the drain. You placed the kettle back in, put a coffee pod into the machine, and pressed start. You waited patiently, thinking about random things that came to your mind. You paced the room, looking at the magnets in the fridge that people have put there over the years. You smile at the fond memories before the coffee machine beeps, indicating that it is done. You grabbed your mug and poured yourself some coffee. You didn’t put anything in it, you left it black.

You turned around and saw a shadow pass through the glass door causing you to instantly tensed up and suppress a scream. You pull back your sleeve and look at your clock, trying to rationalize who it is. “It’s okay. The janitor is still here. That’s who it is. The janitor,” you whisper to yourself in an attempt to calm yourself down. You reluctantly walk out of the door, your heart racing. You held your breath as you looked around but you saw no one. The air in the office space was still, instilling you to relax a bit.

You start to walk back to your desk when you realize that someone’s cubicle is illuminating light. You walk over thinking that someone left their computer on which was common when people would leave in a hurry. You turn the corner and see the computer on, and papers scattered on the desk. You reach out to turn off the computer after making sure the document is saved.

“You’re y/n right?” You heard a male voice say behind you. You jump causing some of your coffee to fling out of your cup and onto the floor. You turned around quickly and saw a tall man in a suit with long black hair that framed his face perfectly.

“Holy shit you scared the shit out of me,” you laughed, placing your hand on your chest. You take a few deep breaths before chuckling to yourself and looking up at him.

“Sorry for scaring you,” He says and puts the coffee cup on the desk.

“It’s okay, just don’t do that again,” you say trying to calm down your heart rate. “I see you're enjoying the coffee,” you joke pointing at the coffee cup in his hand.

“It’s not too bad,” he says before taking another sip. “You’re working late I see.”

You nod and shrug your shoulders, sighing. “Yeah, I have to get this paperwork finished. I’m almost done which is good.” You pause for a moment before speaking again. “You’re Seonghwa?” you ask squinting your eyes.

“Yes that’s me,” Seonghwa says, smiling brightly. He walks closer to you and you notice his tall and broad frame. “You didn’t recognize me huh? That’s a bit disappointing.” He chuckles softly and runs his fingers along the handle of his mug.

“I mean I have seen you around the office and our boss always has good things to say about you. I just couldn’t tell, it’s kinda dark in here,” you chuckle, admiring his beautifully sculpted face.

“I never understood why they turned off the lights when they know some of us are here late. Did you need any help with your work?” He asked before running his hands along his chair, pulling it from under the desk. You could see he was willing to help but your heart said otherwise.

“No Seonghwa it’s okay, I’m almost done anyway. I really appreciate the offer though,” You say smiling before sipping your coffee. “I should go get this done, I’ll talk to you later Seonghwa. I’ll see you around?”

“Of course, see you around,” he says as he watches you leave and go back to your cubicle. He pulls out his phone and starts typing away, a small smirk on his face.

You sit back down at your desk and start to work. You get these papers done as fast as possible trying to look over mistakes along the way. You were genuinely exhausted and you started to consider Seonghwa's offer of helping you but you pushed it aside. Your mind was filled with numbers but lingering thoughts arose about Seonghwa. You thought about how attractive he was up close. The way his slender fingers touched his cup and his chair and how good they would look touching you. You quickly brushed away your horny thoughts and got back to work. Let’s not think about dick while we are at work.

“Finally,” you said to yourself before grabbing your laptop bag and gathering all your items. You sling your bag around your shoulder and look up at Seonghwa’s cubical. His light was still on indicating that he was still working. Before you walked out of the office you glanced at Seonghwa, his hair falling onto his face as he focused on his work. He averted his eyes and smiled at you, causing you to smile back.

Seonghwa waited awhile before he turned off the light and left the office. He saw you drive off and he quickly got into his car. He followed you home, his car a couple of car lengths behind yours. He watched as you went into your duplex. You got ready for bed as usual before you laid down and drifted off to sleep from exhaustion. He watched as your lights went on and then off. He sat in his car staring at the window.

He waited until you were asleep before he got out of his car and walked toward your duplex. He quietly makes his way to your window and peers inside, seeing you sleeping peacefully. He pulls out his camera and takes a picture of you. This was a daily ritual for Seonghwa. To follow you home and bask in your beauty without you knowing. He mainly did it at night so he could watch you for hours. Just sleeping peacefully in your home.

Today was the first time you met Seonghwa. But for Seonghwa this was the thousandth time that he has seen you. He remembers the first time you walked into the office. You looked so clueless but determined to work. He liked that about you. But what he loved most was watching you smile. You did it the most when you were asleep. As he watches you sleep he thinks about what you could be dreaming about. He takes new pictures of you as you toss and turn in your sleep, enjoying the way the moon shined on you.

He continues to watch you, taking more pictures and videos. He loves the way your hair falls across your face as you sleep, the way your lips part slightly, and the soft rise and fall of your chest. He goes home before anyone notices that he has been there. He gets to his house and prints off the pictures he took of you. He opens his scrapbook and glues the pictures of you on the pages.

He sits on the edge of the bed just admiring you. He flips through the pages looking at all the pictures he has taken over time. He sighs as he thinks about how gorgeous you looked when you did the simplest of things like go to the grocery store, clean your house, cook, watch TV, and shower. He was there for most of the moments. He always liked the weekends because he could follow you around all day. Admiring your beauty.

Seonghwa’s obsession with you grew each day. He would often daydream about you during meetings, pretending to take notes but instead drawing your face over and over again. He would sometimes go to the break room just to hear your voice as you talked to your coworkers. He was obsessed with you and no one would take you away from him.

You walk around the flea market looking at the farmer's fresh produce. You picked up a few peppers and tomatoes when you looked up and saw Seonghwa. Without hesitation, you walk up to him. “Hey, I haven’t seen you here before! How are you?” you speak in a cheerful tone. His heart skips a beat as he hears your voice. He quickly turns around, his eyes wandering along your frame, admiring the green cottage core dress that hugged your body. He quickly puts on a friendly smile, trying to act natural. You look at his outfit and smile. He wears a black and white striped shirt with black pants. On his feet are black loafers and around his neck is a digital camera.

“Hey, I'm good. Just browsing around. I've never been to this flea market before, so I thought I'd check it out.”

“Well, you are more than welcome to join me every Sunday. That’s if you’d like. I don’t want to force anything on you,” you smile being polite to him. Little did you know he knew that you came here every Sunday. He had countless pictures of you with your cute strawberry tote bag.

“I’d love to join you. I’ll bring coffee next time. what’s your favorite type of coffee?” Seonghwa asks, feeling giddy. He already knew your favorite type of coffee, he knew what you liked in it too.

“On days like this, I absolutely love iced coffee.”

“Iced coffee it is then.” Seonghwa pulls out his phone and pretends to make a note, but in reality, he’s typing nothing at all.

“I see you brought your camera. Do you often do photography?” you ask pointing at the camera strapped around his neck. You admire his fingers as they fidget with the lens.

“Yeah, it’s just a hobby of mine. I like capturing scenery.” Seonghwa’s eyes flicker with unsaid words. “Most of my photos are of nature,” Seonghwa says, telling only half the truth.

“Could you take a picture of me? You can add it to your gallery of nature,” you giggled, posing with your strawberry tote bag and picking vegetables and fruits. Seonghwa forces a smile before lifting his camera and taking a few shots of you. He looks at the images and smiles to himself.

“Don’t be shy let me see it!” you said giddy waddling next to Seonghwa.

Seonghwa hesitates for a moment before nodding and handing you his camera. He watches as you look through the pictures, his heart pounding in his chest. He hopes you don’t notice the countless photos he took of you before today. Seonghwa's eyes follow your every move.

You smile at the pictures he took and hand him back the camera. “Those are really good Seonghwa. Could you send those to me, please? Here I’ll give you my number,” you said reaching into your bag and pulling out a pen and paper. You write down your number and give it to him. Seonghwa takes the paper, his hands slightly shaking.

“I’ll send them to you later.” He puts the paper in his pocket, carefully folded. “Let’s keep shopping.”

Throughout the next few hours, you walk around together and pick up fresh produce. You both talk about your favorite things to do and he opens up to you about his life. You feel this connection with Seonghwa and you have no idea why. He understands you on a whole other level. It’s almost like you both have known each other for years.

“I don’t hang out with people outside of work. You’re the first one that I’ve actually been out and about with. It’s nice,” you say the autumn wind picking up causing the remaining leaves on the tree to fall.

“I don’t go out much either. You're the first person I've spent time with like this in a long time.” Seonghwa says, his breath visible in the cool air. He looks at you as the leaves fall around you. You smile as he lifts his camera and takes a picture of you. Your heart starts to swell as he looks at the picture smiling.

“Let me take a picture of you Seonghwa,” you say softly, reaching out for the camera.

He hands you the camera, his eyes never leaving yours. “Okay,” he says softly. You raise the camera and snap a picture of him. Through the lens, he looks even more handsome, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. You smile from ear to ear as you look at the picture and then hand him back the camera.

“Thank you for today Seonghwa,” you look at him for a minute. “And thank you for walking me to my car,” you say taking out your keys.

“Anytime,” he trails off. He wants to ask for a hug or even a kiss, but he holds back. He doesn’t want to scare you off. “Text me when you get home, please?”

“Yeah, I will thanks, remember to send me those pictures. I’ll see you tomorrow at work.”

“I will… See you tomorrow.” Seonghwa watches as you get in your car and drive away. He stands there, in the parking lot, until your car disappears from sight. Then he gets in his own car and drives home, his heart racing with the excitement of finally getting close to you.

You walk into work with a smile on your face. You start it as normal as usual, grabbing a coffee and going to your desk. When you get to your desk you see an iced coffee and a card next to it. You smile to yourself before opening the card. “Dinner at my place Friday night? -Seonghwa.” You chuckled to yourself before taking the iced coffee and going to Seonghwa’s cubicle. He looks up as you approach his cubicle, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Morning,” he says, his eyes darting to the coffee in your hand. “I see you found my note.” He leans back in his chair, watching you.

“Yes I did,” you grinned looking at him and then at the ground. “Dinner this Friday at your place sounds like a good plan,” you agree shyly, everting your eyes back up at him. Seonghwa's face lights up with joy.

“Really?” he asks, his voice barely a whisper. He can't believe you said yes. “I'll cook! I mean, if that's okay with you,” He rambles, nervous but excited.

“Of course, that is okay with me!” you express flashing him a cute smile. You glance around before getting closer to him and leaning down to whisper in his ear. “And thank you so much for the iced coffee.” Seonghwa's face turns a light shade of pink at your close proximity. He can smell your perfume, and it's driving him crazy.

“You're welcome,” he whispers back. He wishes you would stay close forever, but you pull away and he's left craving more.

“I’ll see you later Seonghwa, I have to get some work done. And now I have to be extra focused since I’ll be with you Friday night.” He nods eagerly as he watches as you walk away, his eyes glued to your figure. He turns back to his computer, a goofy grin plastered on his face. He's like a love-struck teenager, infatuated with you.

Throughout the whole week, you complete as much paperwork as possible and attentively listen to every meeting you are in. When you have small breaks you go to chat with Seonghwa. You learn about Seonghwas's photography collection and his massive collection of Legos. You learn more about his family and where he is from. You feel so comfortable with Seonghwa that you talk to him about your past and your struggles. In this little time you have known him you were head over heels for him. No man has ever understood you as he does.

It was now Thursday evening and it was late. You caught up with all your work for the week but Seonghwa on the other hand was behind. You stayed a little bit later just to get everything done so you wouldn’t have any work to do tomorrow, just meetings. You get up from your cubicle, the automatic lights in the building going off. You walk over to Seonghwa’s cubicle and see him typing away. He was so focused on his screen. He had his black wire glasses on which made him look extremely attractive to you. “You still working?”

Seonghwa looks up from his computer, his eyes meeting yours. “Yeah,” he sighs, rubbing his temples. “I'm so behind,” He blinks a few times, his eyes tired from staring at the screen for so long. “What are you still doing here?”

“I just got done with my paperwork for the week. And I just wanted to finish it up so I didn’t have any paperwork to do on Friday,” you say, looking at the stack of reports pilled onto his desk.

“Oh,” he says softly, taking off his glasses and setting them down on his desk. “Well I still have a lot to do,” he says, looking more stressed than usual, his demeanor towards you was standoffish. He wasn't like his usual self but you tried to continue to be cheerful and optimistic.

“I can always come to help you Seonghwa. Then after we can leave and have that dinner you were talking about,” you smile but his expression doesn’t waver. You look at him for a moment trying to search for any emotion other than frustration. “Seonghwa. I know you’re irritated but just know I’m here to help you when you need me,” you express before putting your fingers under his chin, guiding his gaze to you. “Oh look at you, you’re so exhausted,” you pout, rubbing your thumb against his cheek softly. Seonghwa's expression softens and he leans into your touch, craving more of it.

“I'm sorry. I'm not mad at you. I'm just. Frustrated.” He sighs, his shoulders slumping.

“It’s okay, you are working hard. I see how stressed you are and I just want to make it better,” you softly say matching his gaze.

On the surface, Seonghwa looked to be stressed out about work but the truth is he was stressed because he didn’t get to see you sleeping. He didn’t get to take pictures of you because of work and it was driving him insane. Only being able to see you at work wasn’t enough. He wanted to be outside your window admiring you every single night but he couldn’t do that. He was swamped with work this week and he had to meet this deadline.

You’ve never seen someone so vulnerable till this moment. You felt bad and you didn’t know what to do. You grab onto his hand and pull him out of his rolling chair. You wrap your arms around his neck and stand on your tippy toes to whisper in his ear. “Seonghwa, I’m sorry. You shouldn’t be stressed out like this. Will this make it somewhat better?” you say before kissing him softly causing Seonghwa's heart to skip a beat. He feels like he's in heaven, and for a moment, all his stress and frustration melt away. He wraps his arms around your waist and holds you close, returning the kiss with a soft sigh.

"Maybe," he says, his words barely above a whisper.

“Seonghwa I really like you,” you express looking up at him.

“I like you too, a lot,” he trails off, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “And not just because you’re beautiful. But because you understand me like no one else does.”

“I feel the same way,” you confess, cupping his face and bringing him in for another kiss. Seonghwa smiles against your lips, deepening the kiss. His hands wander to your back, caressing it softly. Seonghwa smiles into the kiss, happier than he's ever been.

“Tomorrow I can help you with your paperwork since I have nothing to do tomorrow. Then we can go back to your place and have our dinner,” you whisper tucking his long hair behind his ear causing Seonghwa's heart to swell from your touch.

“Okay,” he says softly, nuzzling into your hand. He's glad that you're offering to help him, but he also feels bad for imposing on your time off. “Are you sure?” He questions, causing you to look into his eyes and then press your forehead against his.

“Seonghwa I’m sure, you don’t have to do it alone,” you say caressing his arm. You feel a warmth spread through your hand as the tips of your fingers make contact with him. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close.

“Thank you,” he says softly, burying his face in your neck. You reach up and run your fingers up the back of his head and through his hair. You nod in response to his thank you before speaking, “I should go home. Don’t stay here all night okay? I’ll text you when I get home.”

“Mhm,” he hums softly, nuzzling his face further into your neck. “I won't, I’ll leave after I’m done with this folder. Drive safe for me okay?” he says, smoothing down your hair.

“I will be safe promise. I’ll see you tomorrow,” you say before pulling away from the hug. Your hands linger on him, not wanting to let go. You kiss his cheek before turning around and waving at him with a cute pout. Seonghwa watches you walk away, his heart feeling full. He sits back down at the desk, trying to focus on the paperwork, but his mind keeps wandering back to you. He finishes up the folder and turns off his computer. He sighs and looks at a picture of you that he has of you on his phone. Admiring how gorgeous you look, smiling to himself knowing that you will be in his presence all of tomorrow.

When he gets back home he looks at the leather scrapbook, looking at pictures that he took of you in the pool during the summertime. His mind races at the idea of you possibly giving him what he has been waiting for. He grows hard as he looks at the way your boobs look in your bikini. He starts to breath heavy as he pulls his dick out and starts to stroke himself. He holds the scrapbook in one hand and his dick in the other. He moans your name until he cums all over the pictures of you. He laughs to himself when he is done knowing that your hand will be replacing his soon.

“Holy shit we did it Seonghwa,” you exclaim looking at your watch. “And it’s only 4:30 pm!” You said bouncing in the rolling chair next to his desk. It was finally the end of the day and you were both eager to get back to Seonghwa’s house to hang out and have dinner together. The week felt long but it was worth it especially since you both get to spend extra time with each other outside of work.

Seonghwa grins at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "We make a great team," he says, packing up his laptop and putting on his coat. "Let's get out of here. I'm starving." He offers you his hand to help you up from the chair. You take his hand and squeeze it tightly before placing the rolling chair back where you found it.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” you smile, making Seonghwa’s heart flutter. You both walk to your cars parked right next to each other. “I’ll follow you okay!” you say giving him a thumbs up. Seonghwa chuckles and then smiles before he gets into his car and starts it. You do the same, your heart pounding in your chest at the idea of finally going to his house. He pulls out of the parking lot and you follow him.

He drives carefully, keeping an eye on the rearview mirror to make sure you're still behind him. He's nervous about you coming over, wanting everything to be perfect. As he pulls into his driveway, he lets out a sigh of relief. You park your car next to his and turn off your car. You get out and walk towards his vehicle, your heels clicking against the pavement. He steps out of his car, his coat flapping in the wind. He walks over to you and takes your hand, intertwining your fingers together.

"Come on, let's get inside," he says softly, leading you up the steps to his front door. You squeeze his hand tightly, a shit-eating grin plastered onto your face.

“Such a nice house. You should have brought me here sooner,” you express as Seonghwa takes out his keys and unlocks the door. He chuckles at your comment, opening the door and ushering you inside.

"I agree," he says, closing the door behind you. "But better late than never, right?" He hangs up his coat and helps you out of yours, hanging it up as well. “Make yourself at home.” With that you start to take off your heels at the door, your bare skin touching the hardwood floor. For a moment you admire the way the floor looks, lost in the wood grain. You suddenly look up and see Seonghwa holding up a bouquet of peonies. Your eyes grow wide for a minute before blinking rapidly.

“Seonghwa these are beautiful, you didn’t have to get me these,” you gasp reaching out for them and pouting slightly. You lean down and smell them your heart warming up and your mind swelling with memories. “How did you know I liked peonies Seonghwa?” You smile looking at him with admiration.

Seonghwa blushes slightly, averting his gaze. "I didn’t know you like peonies. They just reminded me of you and I decided to get them,” he lied, plastering a sincere smile across his face. In reality, he looked through your Facebook to find a picture of you when you were young, standing in front of peonies at your grandmother's house. He chose those because he knew you would have an emotional response to them.

“They are gorgeous Seonghwa thank you,” you express pulling him into a hug, causing him to smile. Knowing that what he did worked. He ran his fingers down your back and pulled you closer to his body. You took this as a signal to kiss him. You pressed your lips against his in a tender kiss. Seonghwa's arms wrap around you, holding you tightly against his chest as he returns the kiss, his lips moving softly against yours. After a moment, he gently pulls away, his hands still resting on your waist.

"I'm glad you like them," he says, his voice low and warm. You giggle, pressing a small peck on his cheek.

“Let’s put them in some water,” you say before pulling away and walking to his kitchen. Seonghwa watches you walk away, his eyes never leaving your figure. He loved the way that tight dress looked on you, hugging your curves in all the right places. His thoughts were cloudy, he couldn't help but think that you wore that dress on purpose. To fuck with him, to toy with his desires for you.

He follows you into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as he watches you fill a vase with water and arrange the flowers. After putting the flowers in the vase you walk up to Seonghwa and rest your arms on his shoulders. He instinctively places his hands on your waist and you gaze into each other's eyes for a moment. Both of your bodies swaying back and forth.

“So what are we having for dinner,” you say, breaking the silence. Seonghwa grins squeezing your waist tightly.

“How does sundubu jjigae sound? I also bought some odeng yesterday to go with it,” he smiles knowing that’s your favorite dish to eat causing you to raise an eyebrow in surprise. You never told him you liked sundubu jjigae, but you just figured that it was a coincidence since it was a popular dish.

“That sounds amazing Seonghwa,” you whisper kissing him softly. He returns the kiss eagerly, his hands squeezing your waist gently.

"Great," he murmurs against your lips before pulling away. "I'll start on the sundubu jjigae. Why don't you go relax in the living room? I'll call you when dinner's ready."

You pull away and squeeze his hand, reluctantly leaving the kitchen. You wanted to help make food with him but you didn’t want to protest against it. You sit in the living room and turn on the TV, trying to occupy your mind.

As Seonghwa cooks, he hums softly to himself, stirring the ingredients together in the large pot. He glances at the clock, satisfied with how quickly things are progressing. As the jjigae begins to bubble, he turns off the heat and calls out to you.

"It's ready!" you hear Seonghwa yell from the kitchen.

You get up from the couch and make your way to the kitchen. Once you enter he’s already seated at the table with everything set out for both of you to eat. You both smile brightly as you walk over to him and sit down right next to him.

“The food looks good Seonghwa,” you compliment before pressing your lips against his cheek, your lips lingering on his skin. His face flushes slightly at the gentle kiss on his cheek, his heart skipping a beat. He picks up his spoon and begins to eat, encouraging you to do the same. As you both eat, he notices how much you enjoy the food, your eyes lighting up with each bite.

You both continue to eat, enjoying each other's company. You look at the bottle of wine and your eyes gaze at the label. “Oh wow even my favorite wine,” you chuckle holding up a bottle of white wine. You pour both of you a glass and you lift yours. “Here’s to the weekend?” Seonghwa smiles warmly and clinks his glass against yours.

"To the weekend," he echoes, taking a sip of the wine. His eyes never leave yours, admiring your beauty over the rim of his glass. As you both continue to eat and drink, the atmosphere grows more relaxed and intimate.

After you are both done eating you look at Seonghwa. At this time the tension between both of you was present. You were both alone, with no other coworkers and no cubical walls in the way. You were needy for his touch and you didn’t know what to do. Your heart was telling you to make love to him but your mind was thinking otherwise. The alcohol wasn’t helping causing you to become slightly tipsy. While he was eating you couldn’t help but look at his slender and long fingers as he held his spoon. The way they grasped onto the wine glass so elegantly. You took your wine and drank all of it in one fellow swoop. Seonghwa looked at you and awed at the way your neck was sculpted. His mind clouded with thoughts of how you would look with his dick down your throat. You looked Seonghwa in his eyes as you rubbed his thigh. Your heart was racing but you wanted him so fucking bad.

Seonghwa's eyes meet yours, his own pupils dilating as he watches you rub his thigh. He swallows hard, his voice husky as he asks, "What are you thinking about?" He places his hand over yours, intertwining their fingers as he slowly moves your hand higher up his thigh. You swallowed hard not wanting to tell him the naughty things you wish he would do to you. Instead, you switched your focus, squeezing his thigh slightly.

“What are you thinking about?” you say, your gaze lingering on his lips before shifting back to his eyes.

Leaning in close, Seonghwa's warm breath fans against your ear as he whispers, "I'm thinking about how much I want to make love to you right now." His hand on yours guides it even higher, bringing it to rest over the growing bulge in his pants. You smile and bite your lower lip to his response. You can feel your body getting hotter by the second. You rub your hand against his growing dick, feeling how long he is under your fingertips causing his breathing to hitch.

“What else Seonghwa?”

"I want to hear you moan my name as I pleasure you. I want to bury my face between your thighs and make you come apart."

“Oh Seonghwa,” you gasp, your heart rate becoming faster as you listen to what he just said.

Seonghwa's hand tightens around yours, pressing it firmly against his throbbing cock. He grinds against your palm, his eyes locked with yours. Seonghwa's hand leaves yours, and he begins to slowly unbutton his shirt, revealing his toned chest. "I want you to touch me, to explore my body," he murmurs, his eyes locked onto yours. "I want you to know what it feels like to be with me." You move your hands up to his chest and rub softly. You start to kiss his neck, humming slightly as you feel his pulse against your lips. Seonghwa leans his head to the side to give you better access, he lets out a soft moan at your gentle kisses.

“I’d love to explore you Seonghwa,” you whisper against his neck.

"Please, touch me everywhere," he begs softly, his body trembling slightly under your hands. He reaches up to caress your thigh, gently tracing patterns on your skin. "Please," he begs softly, "Please let me take you to the bedroom. I need you."

“Yes please,” you say causing both of you to get up from your chairs. Seonghwa then sweeps you off your feet and carries you to his bedroom. Once you reach the room he lets you down and starts to kiss you passionately.

Seonghwa's kisses are urgent and passionate, his hands roaming your body as he walks you backward towards the bed. He breaks the kiss only to speak against your lips, "I want to touch every inch of you." As you kiss him passionately, he slowly begins to undress you. His hands unzip your dress and push it off your shoulders, letting it pool at your feet. He breaks the kiss only to trail his lips down your neck and collarbone, his hands caressing your curves.

You let out a few gasps at his eager kissing causing you to press your thighs together. You reach out and start to unbutton the rest of his shirt. You tugged at his sleeves which signaled him to take off his shirt completely. You run your hands down his chest and to his abs as he desperately kisses your neck. The room fills with your needy whimpers and you trail your fingers down to his belt, unbuckling it quickly. His hands move up to cup your boobs, squeezing them gently. He hums against your neck, biting softly as he feels your fingers unbutton and unzip his pants. You push them down, letting them hit the ground. You run your fingers against his shaft causing him to moan against your skin before he presses his lips against yours in a searing kiss.

His hands roam your body as he tries to remove the rest of your clothing. He gently squeezes your boobs before he breaks the kiss to tug your bra off, discarding it on the floor. He curls his long slender fingers around the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs, and steps out of his pants. He kisses your jaw and neck before lifting you and placing you on the edge of his bed. He takes a minute to worship your body, placing kisses down your neck to your hardened peeks. He kisses your nipples softly causing you to let out a needful whine.

“Seonghwa I’m so wet,” you whimper, squeezing your thighs together to suppress the overwhelming throbbing. Seonghwa's eyes look down, his hands reaching to nudge your thighs apart. He drops to his knees in front of you, his face hovering over your dripping core. He inhales deeply, his nose buried in your pussy, before licking you from bottom to top in one long stroke.

“Fuuuck,” you breathe out, a long desperate moan escaping your lips as you feel his long tongue run circles against your clit. You grip onto his sheets and look down, your eyes meeting. He was looking up at you from between your thighs, his tongue continuing its slow licking.

"You taste so good, my love," he murmurs, his eyes locked with yours. He slips two fingers inside of you, curling them upwards as his tongue returns to lavish attention on your swollen bud. You moan his name, trembling slightly as he pleases you. Your head spiraled at the sight of him. You were so sensitive, not being with someone for a long time progressed this pleasure. Seonghwa increases his pace, his fingers pumping into you as his mouth suctions onto your core. He watches as your face contorts with pleasure, your eyes fluttering closed.

"Look at me," he demands, his voice muffled against your flesh. Your eyes slowly open, as you move your hand behind his head. You start to softly grind against his fingers and face, moaning in ecstasy as he meets your gaze.

“J-just like that Seonghwa,” you whimper trying to catch your breath. He hums against your core, his fingers beckoning inside of you as his mouth seals around your throbbing nub. He maintains eye contact as you tighten around his fingers, your breathing hitching as your face scrunches up with pleasure.

“Fuck don’t stop,” you breathe, watching how he sucks on your swollen clit. Seonghwa doesn't stop, his mouth and fingers working in perfect harmony. The room fills with slurping sounds and your desperate needy moans. You can feel your walls starting to tremble around his fingers as he sucks harder on your clit. He knows you're close, so he adds a third finger, curling them to hit that sweet spot inside of you. You let out an eager broken moan, throwing your head back and grasping his hair tighter. He removed his fingers, replacing his fingers with his long tongue. You felt his tongue delve deep into your pussy making your back arch, causing Seonghwa to moan against your core. You whimper his name and press his head down further, wanting to feel him lick your walls further. Your pussy clenches around his invading tongue as he caresses your walls. His nose was gliding against your throbbing clit, eager to be sucked again. His hands grip your thighs, holding you open as he devours you.

He removes his tongue out of your pussy and rubs his fingers along your sensitive bud. He spits on your pussy before slurping it back up and lapping his tongue along your clit again. A long guttural moan escapes your lips as he starts to suck again. Seonghwa's hands tighten on your thighs as he buries his face in your soaked core, his tongue lashing against your swollen bud. He can hear your ragged breaths and desperate moans, egging him on as you buck against his face.

“I’m going to cum don’t stop,” you moan feeling your core tighten. Seonghwa's response is muffled against your flesh as he redoubles his efforts, sucking harder and faster on your sensitive clit. He feels your fingers tighten in his hair and your thighs clamp around his head as you reach the peak of your pleasure.

You let go of his hair and grasp tightly onto the sheets. Your eyes roll back and the loud moan of his name fills the room as you cum. Your core tightens and your pussy starts to tremble. You quickly start to close your thighs around Seonghwa’s head but he pushes them open. Pressing your knees against your chest forcefully. He keeps sucking on your clit causing your body to shake involuntarily. You moan his name repeatedly like a mantra as you watch him continue to suckle and lap at your sensitive clit, drawing out every last wave of pleasure. He can feel your juices flooding his mouth and chin as your body convulses.

Your body goes limp as he pulls away, your juices dripping down his chin as he rubs your thigh. Your legs tremble rapidly as you can still feel yourself coming. He gets up off his knees and watches how your body reacts to what he has done to you causing him to smile. You let out a long groan before looking up at him. You sit up and bask in the beauty of his wet face. You suddenly open your mouth and stick your tongue out. Without even having to ask Seonghwa spits in your mouth before kissing you passionately. You moan against his lips at the fact that he knew exactly what you wanted, swallowing a combination of both of you.

Seonghwa deepens the kiss, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth as you swallow. He grins against your lips, finding your eagerness endearing. "You like that, don't you?" he murmurs, pulling away slightly to nuzzle your nose. "Want more?"

“Is that even a question,” you state hungrily running your hands down his abs to his shaft. You rub him through his boxers wanting his dick down your throat. Seonghwa's grin widens at your eager response, his fingers rubbing your wrist.

"Greedy," he murmurs, "On your knees," he commands softly. "Show me how much you want it."

You obey and side down to the ground, looking up at him in awe. You curl your fingers around his boxers and pull them down. His dick slaps against your face, his precum dripping on your skin. You are in shock at how huge he is, wrapping your hand around him. You start to slowly stroke him, looking at his veins. His breathing grows heavy, and his abs flex with each intake. He tangles his fingers in your hair, guiding your head forward. "Open your mouth," he orders, his voice low.

You look up at him as you open your mouth, a smile playing on your lips as you glide his tip onto your tongue. Seonghwa lets out an array of curses before he reaches the bedside table and opens the drawer. You swirl your tongue around his tip, licking all of the precum off and humming at the taste of him. He reaches into the drawer and grabs his digital camera. He waves it around in his hand, his lips turning into a smirk. You remove your mouth and nod your head.

“Add them to your nature collection,” you say before wrapping your mouth around his head and sucking gently. Seonghwa chuckles darkly as he aims the camera at your face, capturing the moment you take his dick back into your mouth. He starts snapping photos, his other hand still tangled in your hair.

"So pretty," he cooed, watching you through the camera lens.

You start to move your head down further onto his dick, looking up at him as he snaps pictures of you. You grab onto his base slowly moving your head back and forth, trying your best to take down his long cock. He groans as he feels your mouth enveloping his shaft. He continues to take pictures, immortalizing the sight of you servicing him.

"That's it, take it deep," he encourages, his voice strained with pleasure. "I want to see those pretty lips stretched around me."

Your eyes roll back and you moan against him in response to his filthy words. This fuels you to go deeper, gagging slightly at the feeling of his tip touching your uvula. You force down more until you feel him hit the back of your throat. He groans as he watches his dick disappear in your mouth and for a second he feels like he is going to instantly cum.

Overwhelmed by the sensation, you see Seonghwa's hand tremble, causing the camera to shake. He quickly steadies it, determined to capture every moment. "Just like that y/n," he manages to say between ragged breaths. "Look at me while you take me." He wants to see your eyes watering, wants to see the intensity of your expression as you work to please him. You continue to keep a steady pace, his dick sliding down your throat. You moan desperately as you feel how perfectly he fits in your mouth. Your lips wrapped around him, sucking eagerly.

Seonghwa's face is contorted in sheer bliss as he watches you bob your head up and down. The sound of the shutter clicking rapidly fills the room, documenting the moment you're gagging on his thick length. You moan against him, your tongue gliding against his shaft as you rock your head back and forth.

"You look so innocent, but you're taking me so well," he groans as saliva starts to trail down your mouth and to your chin. The sloppy interaction causes you to reach down and play with your clit.

"That’s right, touch yourself for me," he demands, his voice rough with desire. "I want to see you get off while you worship my cock with that pretty mouth."

You whimper as you feel Seonghwa’s hand press against the back of your head, his dick shoving deep down your throat. Your mouth is now touching your hand that was wrapped around the base of his cock. Your fingers move faster onto your clit as you start to gag around him. All you wanted to do was please him, your hunger was overwhelming and you couldn’t stop. Seonghwa's hips buck forward as you remove your hand from around his base and place it on his thigh for stability. He grunts, his hand tightening on the camera as he records the sight of you pleasure-seeking while your mouth is stuffed with his dick.

"You're doing so good, baby. Choke on it," he groans, a mischievous smile painted onto his face. The room fills with the sound of you gagging as he pushes your head down further. You try to gasp for air but you can’t, his dick blocking your airways. He tilts the camera downwards, capturing the tears streaming down your puffy cheeks and the desperate way you're clawing at his thighs.

"You can't breathe with my dick lodged in your throat can you baby?" he pants, his own breath hitching as he nears the edge.

You feel his twitch inside your mouth as he gazes into your eyes. His face contorts in pleasure as he pulls your hair, removing your mouth from his dick. You start to gasp for air, your grasp on his thighs weakening. You look up at him as he throws his head back, his eyebrows scrunched, a guttural moan escaping his lips. You watch as his cum spills onto your face, coating your cheeks and your lips. You lean forward and kiss his tip as he continues to cum in short spurts causing some to drip down your chin and onto your chest.

You watch in awe as his body shutters, his orgasm subsiding. Seonghwa looks down, his eyelids heavy as he gazes onto your face glistening with his seed. His mouth turned into a grin, a mischievous chuckle vibrating in his throat. Breathing heavily, Seonghwa lowers the camera, using two fingers to scoop up the mess from your cheeks and push it past your lips. A shuttering sound could be heard again, capturing his fingers gliding against your cheeks.

"Clean it up, baby," he says softly, his voice hoarse.

You nod in agreement, swirling your tongue around his fingers as you make direct eye contact with him. He shivers as he watches you, his dick already growing hard again. You lick all of his essence from his fingers, moaning at the taste of him. Savoring the taste of your hard work like it was a reward. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth slowly, trailing spit and cum between your lips.

"You're so perfect like this, marked by me, tasting me. You've been such a good girl for me," he praises, his voice a low rumble.

“I’m your good girl Seonghwa,” you breathed, looking up at him with those innocent eyes. You shift slightly, your core dripping wet and ready to be fucked. “What are you going to do to me now?” You whisper, waiting patiently for orders.

"Lie down on the bed sweetheart," Seonghwa commands, his eyes never leaving yours.

You obey your orders and rise from your knees. You press your body against him before giving him a desperate kiss. He wraps his arms around you and trails his hands to your ass, squeezing tightly. The kiss becomes sloppy as both of your tongues dance against each other. You take a deep breath before pulling away, sucking on his bottom lip. He smirks, before biting his bottom lip.

“On the bed. Now,” he demands again causing you to turn around and do as you were told. You feel a firm slap on your ass as you crawled on top of the bed. “Good girl,” Seonghwa whispered, causing you to whimper.

He sets the camera aside and walks over to the bed, his gaze drinking in the sight of you waiting for him. You watch as he lays on top of you, positioning himself between your legs. He leans down and kisses you passionately, enjoying the feeling of your soft lips against his. Savoring the moment of the both of you together. You feel Seonghwa grind his body against yours, his semi-hard dick rubbing against your wet core. His hands roam over your curves possessively.

“I love you,” he breathes against your lips, his voice filled with passion.

“I love you too,” you express, pressing your lips closer to his as you move your hips in unison with his.

"Let me fuck you, baby. I want to feel you completely lose it around me," he says, his hands sliding down to your hips, gripping them tightly as he increases the pace. His face is buried in the crook of your neck, his hot breath fanning against your skin.

“Please,” you breathe, feeling your swollen bud glide against his shaft. Seonghwa groans against your neck at your pleading, holding back the urge to completely destroy you. To hear your pleading moans as he slams into your sopping-wet core. He looks back up at you and presses another greedy kiss against your lips. You were losing control as you reached down and guided his tip against your entrance.

“Fuck me Seonghwa please,” you beg causing Seonghwa to nod slowly as he gazed into your eyes. You gasp and moan in ecstasy as he slowly enters you, his thick girth stretching you wide. You claw at his side softly at the new sensation, biting your bottom lip involuntarily. He leans down and presses a searing kiss on your lips. You feel him shiver slightly as he feels you clench around him. His dick twitches inside you, trying his best to get used to how you wrap around him. He moans against your mouth, whispering sweet nothings as he buries himself into you.

"You're so warm, so tight. Only for me, right?"

“Only for you,” you moan, your head spinning as you feel his tip kiss your cervix. Seonghwa groans at your reply, never breaking eye contact. Seonghwa starts to move within you, his hips rolling in a slow, rhythmic dance. His eyes stay locked onto yours, his face contorted in a mask of pure ecstasy.

"I want to make love to you like this forever," he whispers, his voice filled with emotion.

“Forever,” you whimper, rubbing your hand on his cheek to pull him in closer. You kiss his lips, moaning against them as he thrusts into you slowly.

Seonghwa's pace quickens as he feels you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him even deeper. His hands slide underneath you, gripping your bottom possessively as he continues to whisper his love for you against your lips.

“Seonghwa,” you moan out his name, throwing your head back. You can feel his dick gliding in and out of you effortlessly, your walls quivering around him.

"Look at me," he demands, his voice husky with desire. He holds your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze as he thrusts into you with renewed vigor. "I love you, I love you, I love you." He repeats, his eyebrows scrunching together. You whimper as you stare into his eyes, your eyelids heavy. You moan in ecstasy as you claw at his side.

“I love you,” you manage to breathe out, your heart beating out of your chest. Seonghwa then captures your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans as you feel your walls starting to flutter around him. He increases his pace, the headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful thrust.

“Don’t stop,” you moan, pressing your forehead against his as you close your eyes to savor the feeling of him fucking you into oblivion.

"I won't baby I promise," Seonghwa groans, his jaw clenched as he powers into you. His arms tighten around you, his hands gripping you with a fierce possessiveness. The sound of Seonghwa’s eager thrust fills the room along with both of your desperate moans and groans. You feel him grip the sheets tightly beside your head, his thrust becoming out of control.

“Take that dick baby, take all of it,” he groans, slamming into you harder. You throw your head onto the mattress, your eyes rolling back as he fucks you rough. You moan Seonghwa’s name loudly, your cries bouncing off the walls of his bedroom. With every fast and rough thrust, you feel your juices leak out of your pussy and onto his sheets. You can hear how wet his dick is from the squelching noise that emanates from your core. Loud slapping from your bodies fills the room along with the loud sound of the headboard hitting aggressively against the wall.

You say his name in a long moan, your head spiraling as you feel him thrust into your g-spot repeatedly. You arch your back and he wraps his arms around your waist, pressing himself further into you. He leans down and captures your neck on his lips. He kisses and sucks desperately at your skin, leaving hickeys along your neck.

“Take it y/n,” he whispers against your neck as he continues to fuck you at the same rough and fast pace. Your walls clench harder around his dick and the knot in your core starts to tighten. You move your hands from his sides to his back, scratching along his skin.

"Y-you're so close, aren't you?" Seonghwa pants, his eyes locked onto yours. His hands slide down to your hips, tilting them up so that he can hit that spot that drives you wild.

“Fuck Seonghwa please,” you gasp, your legs shaking involuntarily.

"Please what, sweetheart?" he asks teasingly, his tone wavering because he's just as close to the edge as you are. He leans down to capture one of your nipples between his lips, his tongue swirling around it roughly. “Look at me when you say it,” he demands.

“I’m gonna cum, please let me cum,” you breathe out as he continues to slam into you repeatedly.

"Look at me and beg me to let you come apart," Seonghwa says in a breathless tone. His pace quickens, his hips thrusting into you with a force that leaves you breathless.

“Please!” you whine out your pussy clenching tighter against his dick. “I can’t- I can’t hold it. Baby please!” you whimper eagerly, your voice echoing through the room.

"Please what?" Seonghwa asks, his voice a low groan. He leans his forehead against yours, his eyes boring into yours. “Look at me, my love,” he demands.

“Please let me cum please,” you beg your face contorted with pleasure as you feel yourself about to release. He lets out a low groan as your walls clamp down around him.

"You can let go, sweetheart," he breathes, his pace quickening as he slams into you. “Look at me as cum,” he demands again.

You look into his eyes before your eyes roll back at the intoxicating pleasure that radiates through your body. Your core is overwhelmed with pure satisfaction and you start to feel your body release around him. You moan his name so loud that it penetrates through the walls and throughout the house. Your walls clench aggressively tight around him as your pussy quivers. You claw at his back leaving visible scratch marks. Your vision is blurred and you start to shake again. Seonghwa throws his head back, a guttural moan tearing from his throat as your release milks his own from him. His body stiffens as he releases into you, his pace slowing as he drives into you deeply one last time. His body shakes as he releases into you.

“Oh my god Seonghwa,” you gasp, your body jerking involuntarily.

"Oh, y/n," Seonghwa pants, his body slumping forward as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. His arms wrap protectively around you, his hands caressing your back soothingly as he tries to calm your trembling body. You feel Seonghwa press soft kisses against your skin, and your body shutters lightly in his grasp before it subsides. You let out a satisfied sigh, feeling content with how everything went.

"I love you," he whispers, his voice gentle. "You were perfect today," he adds, his hands continuing to caress your back. He slowly eases out of you and lies beside you, pulling you close.

“I-I love you too,” you whispered, completely and utterly in love with the man you just had intimate sex with. You gaze into his eyes for a moment, rubbing circles on his biceps, completely effectuated with him. Seonghwa cups your face tenderly, his thumb brushing over your cheek gently as he meets your gaze. You are both drunk off of each other, your heart swelling with unconditional love.

"My sweet, perfect love," he murmurs, his voice filled with emotion. He leans in, capturing your lips in a deep passionate kiss, your lips move against each other slowly. Your hands roam his body softly, worshiping him and all the work he just did. You admire the way his arms flex against your grasp and the way he relaxes when you rub his side. You break from the kiss and look up at him for a moment.

“That was amazing, no one has ever made me feel that good,” you blush, recalling everything that happened between the both of you. A smirk plays on Seonghwa's lips, his hands squeezing your backside possessively.

"Good," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're mine and only mine. I promise to keep making you feel that good, forever. You deserve only the best. And every time will only get better." He brings your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss on your knuckles. He then kisses you again, his hands roaming over your body.

You’re eyes flutter closed from his touch. You were completely exhausted from the long week and this was exactly what you needed. A nice dinner, a great conversation, a make-out session, and some good dick. You slowly felt yourself drift asleep from hearing Seonghwa’s breathing. As you closed your eyes you felt him get up from the bed, leaving a cold spot beside you. Once he came back you could feel him cleaning you up gently with a towel before he laid right back beside you. He pressed his body against yours, rubbing his hands against your thighs and tummy.

“Get some rest, my love, I’ll be here when you wake up,” you heard Seonghwa say before he pulled the covers over both of you. You smiled to yourself when you felt his lips kiss your cheek.

You suddenly wake up and look at your surroundings. The room is dark, the only thing casting light is the full moon. You feel Seonghwa’s arms wrapped around yours and you smile, caressing your hand against his skin.

You slowly get up, trying not to wake Seonghwa. The bed frame lightly creeks along with the hardwood floor as you make your way to the bathroom to use it. Your mind flashes with images of Seonghwa pleasing you and you can’t help but want more. You turn on the light and wince at the bright room before you walk over to use the bathroom. You keep thinking about the way he treats you and how loved you truly feel. For the first time in forever, you feel like you have found someone you can spend your life with. You knew that being in love with him so soon was cliche but you didn’t care. You wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

You take a deep breath and wash your hands before walking back to his room. You look at Seonghwa’s figure as he sleeps, the gentle rising and falling of his breath. Your gaze moves to the bedside table where he placed the camera. Right next to it is a leather scrapbook that has “photos” engraved into the leatherback. You pick it up and smile, thinking about how beautiful his nature pictures must be. Your fingers glide against the strings before undoing them. You then open the book.

Your heart sinks.

The beautiful smile on your face then turns into pure fear. Your eyes grow wide as you go through the pages. Pictures of you on your second day of work, in the parking lot, at the pool, the gym, the grocery store, the flea market, the bar. Detailed notes were written under each photo and it caused your skin to crawl. You felt like you were going to have a panic attack, the way your chest was rapidly rising and falling, your breathing becoming shallow, and your heart beating out of your chest. You looked up quickly to make sure Seonghwa was still asleep. You grabbed your clothes off of the ground and frantically made your way to the living room. You struggled to put on your dress, your hands shaking.

Tears started to stream down your cheeks as the adrenaline started to kick in. You looked around the dark living room trying to find your purse and phone. You quickly walk to the kitchen and find them lying on the counter. As you grab your belongings you look down at the trash. You see a takeout container for sundubu jjigae. Everything was a lie, everything he did and said was a lie. You started to hyperventilate but you had to get the fuck out of there.

You rushed back to the living room and started to put on your heels. Many emotions were running through your mind, but you needed to put those aside until you got out of There. Your flight or fight response was high and you were completely ready to flee. But you freeze in place as you see a tall shadow walk from around the corner in your peripheral. You go numb and you don’t know what to do. Your body is in shock. You grab the nob eagerly and try to unlock the door but you can’t.

“Looks like you caught me, princess.” Tears start to flow rapidly from your eyes and you let out a broken cry.

“Seonghwa please let me go, if you truly love me please,” you beg, trying to open the door. His voice is cold, devoid of any warmth or affection. He walks closer to you, his steps slow and deliberate.

"Please what, princess?" He asks, his tone mocking. "Please let you go, so you can run away from me? So you can ruin everything we have?"

“Seonghwa, I won’t tell anyone just let me go!” you express, aggressively unlocking the lock and trying the door again. But it’s no use, the door won’t open.

Seonghwa chuckles darkly, his eyes glinting with a dangerous intensity. "Won't tell anyone? Oh darling, I know you better than that. You're not thinking clearly right now, are you?" He takes another step closer, looming over you. You let out a cry, pressing your body against the door. You want to get away but you can’t. You feel like your whole world is shattered. Before you could blink Seongwa cuts the distance, his tall figure looming over your body. You're small frame completely disappears as he towers over you.

“Please Seonghwa, you're scaring me” you choke out, tears streaming down your face in fear. All he can do is look at you, his expression never wavering. He stares into your soul as he watches you come apart, you just want him to show some type of empathy. The room is eerily still as he watches over you like he is observing you. For a moment you wish you could understand what was going through his mind. You think about the memories you have together and you can’t help but cry even more. How did it come to this? And how did you get yourself in this situation? You should have just left the scrapbook alone, you wouldn't have known. Now you feel these moments fading away. But you give in knowing that there isn’t an escape. He knows everything about you and he can’t let you go and for some reason, you feel like you can’t let him go either. Your heart is racing out of your chest, your fear only amplifying.

“I’m yours, Seonghwa,” you whisper, choking on your own tears. Seonghwa's face breaks into a wide, satisfied smile, his teeth bared.

"Good girl," he praises, his voice dropping to a low purr. Before you can try to run again, he grabs your throat, pinning you against the door. You let out a loud wale and instantly close your eyes, not wanting to see him like this. Your happy memories of him were fading and you didn’t want to let them go. This whole ordeal was conflicting with your heart. You wanted to be infuriated that he stalked you for months but you felt like it was meant to be. You felt like you belonged here with him like he was the only one that loved you.

"Oh, you're so loud," Seonghwa remarks, his thumb pressing against your windpipe causing you to whimper. "But don't worry, no one will hear you. I made sure of that." He leans in close, his breath hot against your face. "Now, be a good girl and open your eyes." There was a pause for a moment as you kept your eyes shut and this fuels his anger. His grip tightens around your neck and a low chuckle vibrates through his throat.

“Open your fucking eyes!!!” You instantly jump and force your eyes open as he growls in your face. You whimper in fear as you look at him. Seonghwa grins darkly, his eyes glinting with a dangerous light. He takes a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself down. "There you are," he purrs, his voice like velvet. His free hand reaches up to caress your face, his touch gentle, a stark contrast to the iron grip on your throat.

"Look at you, so pretty and scared," Seonghwa coos, his fingers tracing your features. "I love it when you're scared. It makes you so much more adorable." He leans in closer, his nose brushing against yours. "And I love you, princess. So much." You look at him as tears roll down your cheeks.

Just give him what he wants. You repeat in your head. It will be over soon just give him what he wants. You take a deep breath before speaking.

“I love you too.”

His face softens, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles warmly. "That's my good girl," he praises, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your neck. He leans in, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle kiss. "I’m sorry," he expresses as he releases the grasp on your neck. “Say you love me again.”

“I love you, please,” you whisper, tears still flowing down, tears soaking your dress.

"Mmm, good girl," Seonghwa murmurs approvingly. He kisses you deeply, his tongue pushing past your lips to claim your mouth. “Undress yourself.” He demands. You reach for the zipper on the back of your dress as you sniffle. You look down in shame, knowing that this is all wrong but you want to make it work. Seonghwa watches you with an intense gaze as you slowly unzip your dress. He reaches out to help, impatiently tugging the dress down your shoulders. It pools at your feet, leaving you in your bra and panties. He stands up, looking you over approvingly.

"So pretty, I’m going to remind you who you belong to."

He kisses you passionately for a moment before lifting you from your feet. You just accept the fact that you can’t run or hide and there is no point in doing so. You love him and there is nothing that can stop you from loving him.

He takes you back to the bedroom, slamming the door shut and locking it. For the next few hours, all that echoed through the house was your pleading cries and moans. His groans were loud along with the headboard knocking against the wall. He was all that you had and you needed to accept the fact that he was going to forever watch over you no matter what the cost.

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monstersflashlight · 8 months ago

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Queer masterlist

The goal of this masterlist is to get all the LGBT+ stories in only one place so y'all can browse thru them easily (all the stories are also in their respective monster masterlist). This includes any stories that include m/m, f/f, trans characters or other queer identities.

Long-ish stories

Helping neighbors (orc x minotaur x fem!reader)

[SFW] Misunderstanding your werewolf boyfriend (gn!reader)

The bratty human and his vampire dom (male!reader)

Pastel colored girlfriend (fem!vampire x fem!reader)

Sulfur (gn!reader)

Worshipping the doctor’s pussy (fem!succubus x fem!reader)

Bear daddy (were-bear x gn!witch x gn!reader)

[Commission] The hole in the wall (Orc x minotaur x werewolf x chubby trans masc!reader)

[Commission] Quest to ecstasy (Monsters (werewolf, gator-monster, pale man) x transmasc!reader)

[Commission] Tangled in you (Fem!orc x fem!elf (3rd person))

[Commission] Mark me, mate (male!reader)

[Commission] Ruined skirt (succubus x trans fem!reader)

[Patreon Commission] Monster-tale (tentacle monster x fem!OC x fem!reader)

[Commission] Measuring tape (mothman x trans masc!reader)

Read the contract (unicorn x male!reader)

Chasing the bounty hunter (griffin x gn!reader)

[SFW] Why are you peeing on my petunias (gn!reader)

[Patreon commission] Are you stupid? (minotaur x fem!human x chubby fem!reader)

[Patreon Commission] Intergalactic idiots (alien x orc x fem!reader)

Tentacled (gn!tentacle-monster x fem!reader)

Monster smash (multiple monsters x fem!reader) [SFW] || part 2 || part 3

[Patreon Commission] Mastering the CEO (minotaur x fem!human x chubby fem!reader)

Requests

The morning after (orc x minotaur x fem!reader) (Helping neighbors part 2)

Pussy for breakfast (orc x minotaur x fem!reader) (Helping neighbors part 3)

Untitled (fem!werewolf x fem!reader)

Feral creature (male!reader)

“Use your words, pretty boy” (male!reader)

Hang in there (pun intended) (male!vampire x fem!demon x fem!reader)

Burn me down (male!reader)

The abandoned pool (gn!water-monster x fem!reader)

Three heads are better than one (nb!cerberus x fem!reader)

Three heads are better than one: the day after (nb!cerberus x fem!reader)

“Rain on me” or how to unlock a new kink (gator-monster x male!reader)

The magic drink (incubus x succubus x fem!reader)

Sleep paralysis demon (fem!monster x gn!reader)

When the heat comes (werewolf x trans fem!bunny hybrid)

Do you need a reminder? (bull-hybrid x cow-hybrid x chubby fem!reader)

Storm (gn!reader)

Sweaty (orc x minotaur x chubby male!reader)

Sinner (biblical angel x gn!reader)

Helping-tentacles (tentacle-monster x transmasc!reader)

Gymbro dragon meets human dude (male!reader)

Interspecies relationship (elf x gn!reader) [SFW]

Peace (biblical angel x male!reader)

Cryptid dance (trans!mothwoman x fem!reader)

Pretty little red dress (were-dinosaur x male!reader)

Movie worth (alien x trans!male reader)

Monster smash (part 3) (minotaur x dragon x lizard woman x fem!reader) [SFW]

Pentagram (fem!demon x fem!reader)

Domming the minotur (minotur x trans male!reader)

Txt

Most of the txt stories are non-gendered, those are classified in the individual monster masterlist you can find in my main post here.

I do not consent to have any form of reproduction, replication, or translation of my stories without my explicit consent. This includes reposting my stories on other websites, platforms, etc.

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kabr0ztrousers · 2 months ago

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Kabr0z Writes Episode 28: Mountain Oni

Find the rest of the anthology here!

CWs: Masc!Reader; Femdom; foot fetish; face sitting; cockwarming;

Sorry to the anon who requested this one! Tumblr suppressed it so I've had to reup and it won't be in the same format as the rest of the requests!

Don't forget! You can send an ask or a dm to request a story! It can be as non-existent as anon here, or as detailed as one of the requests from episodes 25-27. If you send it, it'll probably get written! Hell, tomorrow's episode is a part 2 to an episode I wasn't expecting to return to, because one anon loved it so much

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The weather had turned. What was meant to be a pleasant hike had turned into a mountainside blizzard in a matter of minutes with no warning. Your boots are somehow still gripping to the snow-covered path as you struggle down the trail. You spot an alcove ahead of you, sheltered from the icy wind and driving snow.

You duck inside, this isn't an alcove, it's a proper cave. You fish your torch out of your backpack, never hurts to come prepared as they say, and go a few meters in. The air is still cold here, but nowhere near as bad. You can feel your face defrosting as you pull out a camp stove and a paraffin can. Securing a tarp over the cave mouth to keep the wind out and the heat in, you light the stove and sit down. Provided you don't wind up totally snowed in the rescue teams will be able to find you when the storm passes, you made sure people knew you were climbing this trail today and you have a couple of road flares with you, just in case.

You set your dinner on the stove, a can of beans, and wind up your lamp, settling in for the evening bundled in your coat. The food is predictably not great. You were hoping to reach the halfway point where you know of a hostel normally frequented by more serious climbers before they attempt the summit. The plan was to eat there then come back, reaching the foot of the mountain, and your car, by nightfall. That plan was thoroughly scuppered when the clouds rolled in, never mind the sudden whiteout that followed them. On reflection, September was the wrong time to try this, but you just had to wait until the quiet season.

Movement. In the corner of your vision, coming from the tarp. You moved the rocks holding it down and pulled a corner up. If it's a raccoon then you can deal with that, you're not risking leaving someone out in this weather. Plus some conversation would make it a little easier to pass the time.

A woman stepped in. Terribly dressed for the weather. A purple silk kimono and a paper umbrella, she was even wearing geta, her bare feet visible on top and the wooden pegs clopping on the stone floor as she stepped in with the grace of a gymnast. You stared at her as she stepped past you, seemingly oblivious to your presence. She regarded the camping stove, her back facing you.

"You intend to stay the night."

That wasn't a question, or at least she didn't sound like it was

"Yes, the weather's too bad to make the bottom in time"

She looked at the mouth of the cave, and you saw her face. She's bright red, like the most severe sunburn you've ever seen, but what surprises you more are the slender horns sprouting from her head. Long and straight, they start the same vibrant red as her face, gradually turning a deeper purplish shade as they pass through her pin-straight raven hair.

Her face lifts into a smirk and she looks at you for the first time since walking in here "So, you thought you'd come into my home without asking?"

You'd heard of strange creatures living in these mountains. Normally they're described as monsters; huge hulking beasts that would swallow you whole if you weren't polite. Probably not worth mouthing off to this woman, best case scenario you'll still have to spend the night in here together.

"I thought it was vacant when I came in" You offer a small bow, can't hurt, right?

She's beside you now, covering the few meters in a single step "Well, I can't exactly turn you away. You can stay here if you want, but you need to do something for me"

"What do you want? I've got some crackers in my bag if you like"

Her laughter fills the cave "If I wanted a meal, I have a tasty human freshly arrived in my larder. No, I think you'll rather enjoy what I want"

With a breath, you're on the ground. She's standing over you. One wooden sandal presses your sternum, flattening you and pinning you in place. Her foot slips free and dangles in front of your face "Kiss it, dog"

You look up at her, and get a light kick to the jaw in return "who said you could look at me? Lick my feet" You did as you were told, kissing her toes one by one and licking the sole of her foot as she forced it into your face.

"Oh? What's this" Her foot shot away from your face and pressed down on your growing bulge "A woman pins you down, steps on you, and you get hard? Pervert" More giggles as she rubs the shape of your cock up and down in your pants. She started working at your waistband with her toes, pulling down your pants, exposing your cock to the freezing air. You gasp at the cold hitting your semi hard shaft, only fuelling her laughter

"Aww, not used to the weather are you? Maybe I should help warm you up" She steps over you, positioning her bare feet either side of your head, ankles holding your face upright. You can see straight up her kimono, she's not wearing anything underneath. You can see her skin is the same shade of red all the way up her smooth legs, getting a little darker around her pussy

She squats down over you, pressing her cunt against your mouth and nose "eat, and you get to breathe"

You don't need to be told twice. You start licking her clit and pussy, tasting the warm, sweet juices coming from it. You feel a soft hand stroke your cock, gripping just enough to pull back your foreskin before releasing it. You lick faster, pushing your tongue up into her as she grinds her hips on your face, making sure to get herself off while she toys with you.

You can feel her start to orgasm above you, her rubbing becoming more insistent and her breathing speeding up. She grabs your cock properly and starts jerking it, the other hand on your chest to prop her up as she starts moaning and pulsing against your face. Sticky-sweet girlcum coats your face as she rides you harder, already sounding halfway to her next. You're not far behind either, you can feel wetness seeping out of the end of your cock. The hand on your cock moves away "You taste good, human, but I'm not done with you yet"

You feel her cum again, her body shaking and pressing down harder on you, stopping you breathing. Your twitching cock still wet and hard in the cold, the feeling of closeness in your balls gradually subsiding without her rubbing your cock.

"Don't you dare stop, dog" she warns you as she leans forwards. You feel a long, coiling tongue on your cock, gently licking up the length of it as you kept your mouth against her cunt. You can feel your balls tightening again as she tapers off licking you, keeping you leaking and on-edge as she draws to another shaking orgasm on top of you. She rolls her hips, rubbing her clit on you before standing back up, planting another foot on you to keep you on the floor "Have you been a good guest?" She asks, every word mocking you

"Yes" you gasp, desperate for release

"Does the dog want a reward?" She turns to face you, digging in her heel as she spins on it, driving the breath from you

"Yes~" you moan, looking up at her face as she stands over you

"Beg"

You beg. Pleading and grovelling before the woman stood on your chest as her smile grows and she squats on top of you again, opening her kimono and exposing her naked body to you, her small tits and tight waist now visible to you as your hands explore the skin of her torso. She rubs herself on your cock, spreading her juices on it before slipping it inside. Her pussy was soft inside and still pulsing from her earlier orgasms

"I'll make you a bet, if I cum first, you get to leave here alive" her teeth flashing in the lamplight "If you cum first, I eat you"

She isn't going easy on you. Riding you hard, reaching behind her to grab your balls with her hand. You gasp and thrust into her, already an inch away trying desperately not to cum before her. You grip her slim waist with one hand and thumb her clit with the other. You feel her clench against you and thrust up harder, fucking in time with her rocking on you and making her screw her eyes shut, moaning and gasping with every motion.

You feel her cum on top of you, crying out as she does. You let yourself go, pumping your load into her as she holds your hands to her clit and her breasts before lying down on you and hugging you "I'm glad I don't have to eat you. You're comfy"

You lie there, heart pounding, cock softening in her cunt as you feel your fluids start to drip out onto your clothes, and hear her start to snore softly.

You wake up. The cave is dark, and silent. You are alone.

You shift the tarp from the cave entrance. There's still snow on the ground, but the alcove is sheltered, so you're not buried in here.

The powder is smooth, undisturbed, but for the imprints of those wooden-soled sandals. You write your name, and your address on a scrap of paper, and tuck it under your lamp, leaving it behind as you go.

Perhaps she might drop by and be your guest next time

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A/N: The prompt was a bit vague, so I hope I did it justice, and I left this open for a part 2 should the mood take me! Tomorrow's episode is a followup on a previous story never intended to have a part 2, but it got one anon so entranced they asked me to write it. Let's see if I can keep it hot and not horrific, though having said that I've seen what you people like.

Remember, if you like something and want me to write about it, be it a scenario, a fetish, whatever, send me a DM or an ask and it'll probably get written!

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thegnomelord · 10 months ago

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CH 3: Hold Your Demons Close Maybe Then You'll Feel Something

CW:NSFW blood, gore, mutilation, killing, cannon typical violence, child abuse (it's minor but still there), drugging, military inaccuracies, Mage reader, Monster cod AU, poly141, eventual poly141 X reader, reader isn't a good person, a few masc terms used but overall gn.

Ao3; Word count: 19.1k (It's a heckin chonker) Big thanks for @rodolfoparras and @princeguri66 for betaing for me, love you guys!

Masterlist; Chapter 2 <-Chapter 3 (You are here) -> Chapter 4

Aisha remembers the day she thought she would die.

As a gift for the 10th birthday her mother had taken her to the market in the big city. It had been chaotic compared to their little village, so many people donkey carts, and mopeds moving around like crazy ants in a freshly exposed nest. Aisha had gotten lost, swept away by the time of movement, and ended up at the entrance of a shady alley where she'd stumbled on an old beggar woman.

Long as she lives she will never forget the sight of the woman. Strip her of flesh and blood and the memory will still be etched into her bones — of ghostly blue lines forming impregnable chains across sunken sunburned skin. Of dirty rags loosely hanging off skeleton thin shoulders. Of blood crusted bandages wrapped tightly around her shaved head to not scare the children running about, the cloth dipping into the eyeless sockets of her skull. Of her asking passerby for alms with the handless stumps of her arms.

The sight alone had frightened Aisha, but then the beggar had turned her head to Aisha as if she could hear the frantic beating of her heart. A sad saccharine croon left the mage woman's chapped lips as she looked right at her. "Hello, fellow daughter of Magnus."

Her mother found her then, pulling Aisha back while shouting at the woman at the top of her lungs. Aisha's mind had been too full of thoughts to notice her mother drop their shopping in favor of scurrying out of the market with Aisha in hand. She had only snapped back to reality when her mother had thrown Aisha into her father’s rusted little car, barely able to sit up straight before they were driving home to their village as fast as the car’s geriatric engine could go.

Aisha had been locked in the room she shared with her sisters, but the door did little to mute the way her parents argued all day long, accusations of infidelity and cursed bloodlines thrown around like bird feed. Most of it flew over her head, but Aisha had understood one thing: Her parents were afraid.

The strange men came to her house just as the sun had set, drawn out by the dying light like coyotes hunting for a stray lamb. The strong stench of rot heralding their arrival made her sputter to hold back the bile burning her throat. She remembers the sparks of yellow and red and blue and all the other stolen colors of the rainbow swirling in their cold eyes.

They chatted while inspecting her like a cow in the market, their language just as rough and hard as their hands. But they lost interest quickly, unable to find what they wanted to see. They turned to throw lecherous looks at her mother and older sisters before her father had stepped between them and her, protecting his daughter now that he knew Aisha wasn't a freak. He'd tensely asked them to leave after paying for their time, standing in the doorway and only going back inside when the strange men were well and truly out of sight.

Her parents let them in without complaint; Her father held her down, his steely gaze watching the men crowd her. Her mother whispered trembling words into her ear to just be a good girl as the men tore her shirt off. Aisha's questions and pleas and panic fell on deaf ears, her mother pressing a worn hand over her mouth to silence her cries as the men inspected her chest and arms. They pinched and pulled on her skin with hands scarred like gnarled tree bark, the roughness of their palms chafing her soft flesh.

Aisha remembers the days she thought she would die.

Waking up each day to wash under her mother's stalwart gaze so she could ensure Magnus hadn't sown seeds into Aisha's body while she slept. Going each week to the village elders to drink the special brew of Morgana's tears, spending agonizing hours curled up and sobbing on the floor with a stabbing pain in her chest, her heart beating like the wings of a snared bird as the poison made its way through her system. She'd lost count how many times her heart would stutter after every bout of joy or childish argument on the rare moments the children of the village would interact with her — any lick of emotion would force her to run home to check the pads of her fingers in fear that this time magic had cracked through her skin.

She had been so happy on her 15th birthday — the danger had passed. She wasn’t a mage. She could finally live a normal life, meet a boy, get married, have a family.

She’s 16 now. All those years of worry and fear feel like childhood bliss.

Aisha knows she will die.

It happened so suddenly; When her friend had jokingly rubbed a feather duster in her face, Aisha would have never expected a stupid sneeze to force liquid frost through her fingers. Pain had raced through her chest at the speed of lightning, an unknown force pulling her arms up, and the next thing she knew she had frozen over her neighbor's entire crop field. Aisha had barely heard her friend scream over the pounding in her ears, her legs moving on their own long before her brain could understand the pain in her hands or what she had done.

Her mind might still have been reeling, but her body understood she needed to run, needed to hide, before the sun fell and the coyotes came for her.

The house she's found to hide in is one of the many corpses the Russians left behind, stripped bare to rotting wood bones and crumbling bricks, moldy wall paper peeling in long thick strips and rickety boards creaking under the slightest pressure. Gravel crunches beneath heavy tires outside the decrepit house and a rumbling engine cuts through the silence. Aisha scrambles up the stairs to the second floor, hiding in a dingy closet with it's walls closing in around her like the sides of a cramped coffin. Termite made holes in the closet door act as peepholes, letting her see into the bedroom and watch the long shadows created by the car's lights stretch across the floor.

She bites her lip as the slightest twitch of her pinky finger makes pain bloom across her entire hand, though she's barely able to move her fingers with how stiff they are. Her tan skin bellow the wrists is corpse pale and cold, blood crusting the creases of her knuckles. The creaking of floorboards has Aisha hastily pressing her ice cold hands against her lips, the taste of her blood — copper and iron with a hint of something sweet like antifreeze — failing to churn her stomach when even the hint of slowly encroaching rot has her heart clogging her throat so not even a whimper can make it past her lips.

She’s sure her lungs stop working when a man crosses the threshold into the room, and immediately she’s hit with such a strong smell of decay, like death had crawled up her nose and died there. Her throat and chest spasm with the need to cough, tears freely running down her cheeks from how much effort it takes to keep quiet, but past her blurry vision she can see the man slowly walk into the room.

He’s tall and gangly like a newborn foal, bulky clothes widening his frame that’s mostly skin and bones, thinning blond hair badly swept over a sizable bald spot. He wouldn’t be so scary if his eyes didn’t glow an unnatural mixture of toxic green and burning red— the sight alone has goosebumps spreading across his skin, followed by a deep seated discomfort as if leeches are crawling inside her bones.

“Come out little girl,” Even his voice feels wrong, like glass ground on sandpaper, but he speaks with so much sweetness it’s disgusting. “We only want to talk to you, don’t worry you’re not in trouble.” She can tell he’s not from Urzikstan by the rough accent that muddles the Arabic words he speaks.

The floorboards creak softly as she shifts. His head swivels to look around the room and the man quickly walks over to the bed, dropping to his knees to look under it. “Fuck!” His facade falls as he snarls when he sees she’s not there, stumbling to his feet like a drunk. “I mean uh- don’t worry I’m not mad kid,” He chuckles lightly, trying to put on an act of a worried Samaritan, though the attempt falls short when his predatory eyes fall on the closet she’s hiding in.

“Hey, did you find her yet?” Another voice rings from the entrance of the room, this one feminine and with a slight drawl to her words as she speaks in english. It makes Aisha jump, though the squeaking boards beneath her go unnoticed when the new voice continues. “Boss is starting to get antsy and if we don’t find her soon he’ll be sticking your ass with the pigs.”

She can’t see well, but she’s certain the man shows a middle finger to the unseen person. “Fuck off,” He spits out the response like it’s a mouthful of poison, “We both know you’re the dead weight.” He says, taking a few steps around the bed, but luckily for Aisha he stops in the middle of the room. Aisha can hear how deeply he breathes in, before something catches in his throat and he coughs. “I can smell the magic, the wench is still in the house.”

“Bullshit.” The woman scoffs, “You say that every hunt and we end up wasting our time.” A moment passes before the unseen woman chuckles and adds. “You couldn’t smell shit if you shoved your head up your ass!”

The man openly seethes, quick and heavy footsteps carrying him right up to the woman and out of Aisha’s field of view. “You take that back you fucking bitch!” The snarl is more animal than man. Aisha can only assume he punches the woman from the way the floorboards groan loudly in the otherwise silent night, shoes scuffing on the floor, grunts and swears filling the air as the noises of fighting steadily recede to another room.

She’s light headed by the time she manages to pull her hands away from her mouth enough to draw in a breath of stale air, her lungs burning from how long she had gone without breathing. Her heart drums loudly in her skull, her ears pricked to listen to the two strangers exchange angry words in a language she doesn't understand, each passing second of the continuing scuffle making confidence slowly form in her mind.

This is her chance!

. . . to do what?

She doubts she could take them on, she's pretty sure she saw a gun hanging off the man's waist, and she definitely knows she won't be able to outrun them. She's stuck. Cornered.

“Whatever, you just fin-” The sound of footsteps once again nearing the room she's in forces her body to act without her input.

Fishhooks tug on her fingers and force them to splay out flat in the air despite the pain. Her mind scrambles to think of something, anything, before unseen hands pull her mouth open. A shaky breath escapes her lungs and before she knows it words are falling from her lips, so smooth and fluent like her mind is reading a script carved into her bones. “Oh harsh creatures of brutal winter, please, I need your help-” Something cold and sharp stabs behind her chest, more of her skin turning pale as magic slowly crawls down her arms.

It hurts —

Spiderweb cracks of broken glass spread across her knuckles and a fat drop of blood rolls down her chin from how tightly she bites her lip. Her blood beads through the cracks in her skin, the dark crimson turned a light pink by the freshly exposed white light that pulses beneath her skin like a living thing. Aisha sucks in a sharp breath before continuing, “- I beg you, give me a crumb of your power, a ball of silent snow to hide my life-” The more she speaks, the more the white light cracks through her skin until it cracks through the pads of her fingers and escapes as shoddily formed snowflakes.

They dance through the air like drunken fireflies before finding the right position and floating in the air. More of them spawn from each finger with every word spoken, taking their own place in an unknown pattern.

Slowly the overlapping snowflakes take on the shape of a scratchy circle, trembling lines forming a complex web of shapes inside it. The pain grows with it; it turns her fingers pale and numb as if she had stuck her hands in freezing water, the icy bite of frost spreading up her wrists. Her frozen skin cracks from even the slightest tremor in her hands, white speckles dancing in her crimson blood as it leaks down her palms. Each second taken to breathe and bite back a whimper disrupts the fragile collection of snowflakes, causing parts of the circle to break off and drop to the ground in big watery drops.

Her chest feels like it’s tightly packed with soaked wool, a type of pressure building behind her sternum, her shoulders stiff as her body is getting ready for. . . something good—

The closet door swings open with enough force to break it off its hinges. White light of the circle refracts off the gun aimed at her.

Bang!

A bullet tears through the magic circle and shatters it into pieces, all the pressure that had been building in her body rushing through the crumbling remains of the circle right back at her.

She screams and shakes, fat tears freely running down her cheek like the blood flowing from her palms. There’s not a single word in any language able to describe the pain rushing through her veins, the liquid agony infesting every cell — sharp and blunt and deep and gnawing, like her body is trying to eat itself, like she’s infested with maggots; the bullet that tears through her side feels like a soft mercy.

“Fucking moron!” She barely hears the woman snarl over the rush of blood in her ears. The gun aimed at her is roughly pushed down. “Are you trying to get the boss to take our heads?” The stench of rot only worsens it, disorientating her further and she’s barely able to make her fingers twitch. She’s got no defense from the rough hand that roughly grabs her by the hair and pulls her out of the closet.

“I’d rather not die from a first time mage!” The man yells, grabbing her by the shoulder. Aisha’s legs can’t support her weight no matter how much she tries, but the man is far stronger than she had expected and has no problem holding her up. Her lungs manage a pained sound before her arms are grabbed and painfully wrenched behind her back, handcuffs softly clicking as they’re tightened until the steel digs into her aching wrists.

“Oh so when I’m the one on the end of the damn spells it’s fine then?” The woman’s anger shows in the way her cracked nails dig into Aisha’s scalp and pull her head back like she's trying to take it off entirely. Aisha struggles to breathe, gasping and wriggling to the best of her ability but it’s useless and a second later a thick metal collar is tightened around her neck, rusted needles on the inside of it pricking her skin enough to draw blood.

It burns. The collar rapidly heats up like she's got a string of hot coals around her neck, the heat traveling down her skin to grip her heart in a vice. The collar is so tight she can’t even gasp, fresh adrenaline pouring through her veins as she tries to scramble out of the handcuffs, tries to shake out of their hold, tries to just get away. . . but she’s about as strong as a kitten.

“You’re expendable. The girl could make a better spell than you.” The man holding her shoulder laughs and pulls her away as soon as the woman lets go of her hair, all too happy to drag her like a sack of potatoes behind him. Each step down the stairs has the base of her spine awkwardly hitting the step, accosting her frazzled brain with even more pain.

“We got the girl, boss!” The man says triumphantly, pulling her up so she’s facing another man. Even with the tears blurring her vision, Aisha can tell the ‘boss’ isn’t from Urzikstan; He’s a pudgy little man with a wide flat nose and other features that don’t quite fit his face, but his eyes — they glow the same rainbow hue as the other two, with the same malice.

“Finally.” The boss huffs, not wasting a single second and pulling a knife from his pocket. A rough hand holds Aisha’s head so she can’t squirm away from the knife as it cuts across her cheek. Just that small cut feels like a gaping wound and a small whimper falls from her lips as the boss pulls the knife back, specks of white floating in the dark blood coating the metal. A black tongue slips from his lips to lick up the bloodied edge, the sight making her stomach curl with disgust.

Another hand grabs her cheek, cracked fingers like claws digging into the cut until blood flows over the man's fingers. The man holding her pulls his bloodied fingers into his mouth, humming. A second passes before he curses and spits at his feet. “There’s barely anything there,” He says, the hold he has on her tightening. “Barely worth the bullet.”

“Oh, that won’t be a problem.” The boss waves him off, sharp rainbow eyes looking her up and down. “Couple of grams from ol’ daddy Magnus and we’ll have ourselves a proper sow.” He reaches out to pat the top of her head, condescending — like she's just a dumb animal. “Alright, put it in the truck.” The boss orders and the man holding her complies, starting to drag her to the truck parked in front of the house.

Somehow, behind the the loud beating of her heart, she hears rumbling. Somehow, though her mind is like tangled yarn and she can barely grasp a thought, she feels something — an emotion that doesn't belong to her: Anger

Violent anger. Burning hot in the cold night, so all consuming it leaves the world around her trembling.

"Hold on-" The boss says suddenly, quickly raising his head to sniff the air. "Do you smell that?"

Tires screech against the rocky road, orange flames sparking from thin air as a motorcycle appears out of nowhere. Aisha only manages to get a glimpse of glowing orange eyes before she's blinded by bright light. She closes her eyes, heat washing over her body before she hears the head of the man holding her explode.

Shards of bone and brain matter rain down on her, sticking to her dark curly hair. The body stands for a second, unaware it no longer has a head as the charred stump of the neck steams. The body falls to the ground and takes Aisha with it, falling on top of her.

The elbow digs into her bleeding side, her eyes flying open as she struggles to get out from under the man, managing to push him off. Her gaze flies to the steaming charred stump where the head used to be. Panic rising she breathes in and oh god the smell — it’s an automatic response; Her stomach convulses and she pukes, bile burning her throat, retching and crying as the scent of her bile only makes it worse.

She feels heat rush over her and she doesn’t need to see to know your magic makes the other man and woman’s heads pop like grapes. Their bodies drop to the ground somewhere behind her, but what makes adrenaline rush through her is the soft sound of the motorcycle stand clicking against the ground.

Her head flies up to look, heart beating like a bird in the cage of her ribs; Dirt crunches beneath your boots but to her it sounds like breaking bones, steam rises off your body, the bright glow of your arms and the intense glare of your eyes behind the tinted lenses of your mask. . . it all gives the image of a demon — of something she needs to flee from.

If the people had been coyotes, then this person— no. . . the thing that had found her was a starved lion.

She tries to scramble back but it's useless when the smallest twitch of a muscle has her whimpering, blistering cold gnawing on every inch of her nerves.

You reach her in seconds, leaning down to grab her by the front of her clothes to pick her up like she weighs nothing. Your scent floods her nose, rot and just a small hint of sweetness, like honey poured on the floors of a burning charnel house. She tries to kick you but can barely move her toes, her legs just swaying uselessly beneath her. Your fingers, warm but not burning hot, hook under the steel wrapped around her neck.

Your jaw tenses, trying to remember how to speak. "Hold still." You order.

Your voice is soft. Not the velvet softness of her mothers', more akin to the smoothness of a tar pit right before it pulls a hapless creature into its inky depths. But you don't hurt her.

Metal screeches as the rusted steel bends like clay under your fingers. It only takes a few seconds before the collar clatters to the ground. The sudden release of pressure has Aisha gasping for breath so quickly she starts coughing and almost pukes but luckily her stomach is empty.

She doesn't feel you free her hands, the world spinning a thousand miles a minute before her eyes. She's forced to close her eyes shut in an attempt to fight back the nausea, rainbow spots crackling in the darkness of her vision.

Casually stepping over the corpse of the Devourer you sit her down on the hood of the truck, keeping a hand on her shoulder to make sure she doesn't fall face first to the ground. She shivers under your touch, trembling hands slowly raising to grip your wrist. You don't need magical sight to know an aborted spell is ravaging her insides; her fingertips turning black in front of your eyes and the specks of white dancing in her pupil is enough.

Judging by the way you can barely pick up the scent of mage standard rot on her, you can only assume she's a late bloomer. With a small huff you place your other hand on the middle of her chest, casting a simple circle at your palm.

Aisha gasps, fingers scrambling to try and pull your hand off, too numb with cold to register how the cooling lava making up your skin warms up. But it's like trying to move a mountain. You don't budge an inch. She can feel something inside her move, burning frost shepherded by blistering heat slinking down her fingers back into her heart, increasing speed with every inch it travels. She barely notices the aching in her side subsiding, or the sensation returning to her fingers.

You let go of the girl when you’re satisfied she won’t die from either blood loss or mana shock, leaving her to sit on the hood of the car as she looks dumbly at you.

The bullet loudly clatters on the steel hood. She turns her head and her eyes nearly pop out of her skull at the sight of her blood literally bleaching out of her clothes like it's being drawn back into her body. Letting go of your wrist she lifts her shirt, and there's not even a mark on her tan skin.

She’s no threat to you.

No sooner that you take a step away from her does Beelzebub's cold presence rush out of your heart with enough force to make you stumble back. People say it’s madness for a spell, a tool, to have personality. But the way black candlelight flames spark at your fingers and immediately rush out like a swarm of locusts to devour the three bodies is. . . it's angry. Vengeful As it should be. You can't fool yourself into thinking the way Beelzebub's magical fires eat away the Devourers hands before spreading over the rest of the body, crackling and buzzing like thousands of flies as they devour skin, then muscle, then bone until not even dust remains, is anything but vindictive.

Like erasing mistakes, it brings you a sense of satisfaction.

Your fingers twitch but you stop yourself from reaching up to trace the faint blue magic gluing your throat together. Instead, you focus on converting the mangled chunks of mana Beelzebub deposits in your chest into something you can use. Devours are a pain in the ass, so much different mana all twisted and held together with gum and staples, all of it now bashing against your ribs like wailing ghosts. With a huff you focus, the rock chunks on your arms getting wider and bigger as you store the stolen mana for later use, steam lazily rolling off your shoulders.

Aisha watches you, eyes wide, but. . . not scared. She doesn’t notice when she opens her mouth, her voice far too loud in the silent night. “Are you a jinn?” She asks, and cringes at her words. Of all the things she could have said, she chose that?

You don't know how you manage to open your mouth enough to answer. “No.” Beelzebub, satisfied as a hog in shit, burns on the ground for a few seconds in the shape of the bodies before seeping back into the earth, settling back to slumber in your heart.

You roll your shoulders. The slight bite of pain and the spasm of your muscles reminds you of the glass sticking out of your back. A grunt forces past your lips, more from annoyance than actual pain. A simple thought is enough to activate the magic you had cast on yourself, vestigial sparks flickering across your shoulders and boring a hole into your jacket. The edges glow brightly before they birth flames that eat away the bulletproof vest and the rest of your clothing until a sizable chunk of your back is exposed.

Aisha catches the edge of a small circle scribed atop your spine in the middle of your back, but her eyes are soon drawn to the mess of glass shards sticking out of your skin. There’s not a speck of blood in sight, but somehow that makes the sight more disturbing. Her gasp falls deaf on your ears, your mind more focused in trying to remove them.

Forcing your opposite hand to cool down enough so the heat doesn’t shatter the glass, you reach back as far as you can, trying to feel as best you can with your numb fingers. But your hands are stiff and unfeeling, making you fumble about like a bull in a china shop as you try to get one shard and miss. The only time you manage to grasp the sharp edge, you break it when you attempt to pull it out. A curse slips past your lips and you crush the broken piece between your fingers.

Aisha doesn’t know what possesses her, nothing good probably, but she speaks up. “Can I-” Your head turns to her so fast she startles, mouth snapping shut with an audible clack of her teeth. She can only stare at those burning eyes for a second before her animal brain forces her to look away, focusing on the gas mask portion of your mask because looking at your eyes feels wrong. But she powers through it, forcing herself to speak. “Can I help you?”

That was not what you expected.

“No.” You say, your head swiveling to glance at the road and then back up to the sky, a pulse of formless magic slipping past your fingers on instinct to ensure you’re covering all your bases as far as relative safety goes. You don’t see nor sense any form of life besides the girl, nor any mage magic save for the tracker in your pocket.

You hate to admit it, but the wraith was good. And so was the mage that made the tracker, it took you a good while until you had sensed the small piece of enchanted rock hidden in your pocket. You’re still unsure what you want to do with it, maybe you could somehow game the situation or send the monsters after you on a wild goose chase, so for now you’ve only isolated it with your magic instead of destroying it.

Aisha persists. “Please,” She grits her teeth, resisting the urge to shrink back when your eyes once again settle on her. “I- you helped me, I don’t want to hold debts.” There is a kind of determination in her eyes you know too well, the same kind Frosty had right before you and him—

If anyone asks or puts a gun to your head, you will blame this moment on many things — the fatigue, the side effects of using too much magic, the spiraling descent into lichdom, finally losing what dredges of sense you have in your no good skull; “Fine.”

You take careful steps towards her until your knees press against the bumper before turning your back to her, forcing her to spread her legs to accompany your body. You keep your body turned in a way that still keeps her in your periphery. Not that it matters. Even if she had a knife hidden on her person nothing short of 30/06 ammo could leave any damage you couldn’t immediately heal off.

Aisha hates the part of her that regrets her decision now that she's presented with the large array of glass sticking out of your skin. She reaches out like she would try to pet a wild dog, cold fingers gripping the sides of one piece, bracing her other hand on your back. She tries to wiggle it out, and though you keep yourself from hissing, your muscles still spasm around the sharp glass. “Sorry, sorry-”

“You’re fine rookie,” You grunt automatically. “Just yank it out.”

She sucks in a sharp breath and prepares herself like she’s the one with half a ton of glass using her as a pin cushion. But she does as you say before she can shy away from it. The glass slides out easily enough, glowing orange blood staining it. Her eyes go wide when the blood suddenly drips off the shard in one continuous stream until she’s holding a perfectly clean piece of glass. The blood lands on your back and slithers up your skin into the wound, repairing muscle and flesh until there’s not even a mark to indicate where the glass had pierced your skin.

“Are you like me?” She asks tentatively, mentally hitting herself for such a stupid question; of course you’re a mage, what is she even thinking? Hoping to escape the embarrassment she pulls another shard out of your back.

“You and I are mages.” You say simply, occasionally glancing to the road and sky before turning your attention back on the girl. It feels… strange. You don't remember the last time you've spoken with someone who didn't want anything from you. Someone who didn't want to use you. Kill you.

“Ye- yeah, I figured.” Aisha bites her lip, squinting her eyes. “Why… why did you save me?” She finally asks the question that had been plaguing her.

“I just did.” You shrug your shoulder, a small breath slipping past your clenched teeth as the motion makes the glass dig deeper into your shoulder.

Aisha’s shoulders fall, a frown tugging on her lips. She doesn’t know what she had expected. “Thank you.”

Her words make your head turn to look at her fully, “Why?”

“Why not?” Another chunk of glass falls to the ground, “You saved me from. . . them. You killed to save me.” She says, nodding her head at the three body shaped scorch marks on the ground. She doesn’t know why talking about the death of them suddenly feels so. . . normal, like she’s walking through a dream and none of this is real. More like a nightmare.

“Killing bad men doesn't make me a good one.” You grunt, choosing not to voice how your motives for killing them had been far more selfish than she could imagine. Vengeance and anger are poor motives, but motives nonetheless.

Aisha clicks her tongue and scowls. “And saving me would make you bad? One good deed has to amount for something, right?”

A pregnant pause rings through the silent night.

“You are strange.” Is the only thing your mind can turn into words.

“So are you!” She shoots back quickly, lowering her head when her words register in her brain. Chewing on her bottom lip she pulls out the last glass shard from your skin, letting it fall from her fingers where it joins the small pile on the ground. She awkwardly pats your shoulder. “Who were they?” She finds her voice again.

“Devourers.” You fail to hide the hate in your tone. Stepping away from her you activate the spell you’ve cast on yourself. The magic burning at the edges of the hole in your clothing flares up, fire washing over your naked skin to reconstruct the fabric you had destroyed. “Humans who want magic, and will bleed you dry to get it.” The jacket feels bigger on you than it should, you don’t even doubt that you’ve lost a few pounds just in the past few hours as you’re forced to tighten your belt to keep your pants from sagging. "Kill them if you can, avoid them if you can't."

“Why did they want me?” Aisha asks, bracing herself on the car’s hood and slowly sliding down until her feet touch the ground. She feels lightheaded and sways on her feet, gripping the hood to keep upright. You glance at her but she just shakes her head — you two are even now, she hopes, she doesn’t want to have to ask for help for something as simple as standing.

“You’re a mage, they want magic.” You shrug, fixing the cuffs on your jacket so not an inch of your mage marked skin shows. “They want your blood, by drinking it they can use what they lack.”

Unwanted thoughts laugh at the back of your mind. Phantom pain blooms across your throat as you swallow, your lungs stuttering to draw breath. Memories you'd rather not revisit nibble at the back of your mind, just begging to gain your attention. Your hand reaches out to hold the tags—

Nothing.

You come up empty.

Your heart finally stops.

You hold your fist against your chest for a few seconds, the need to break something, even your own sternum, crooning soft melodies in your ears. Finally your fingers slowly uncurl so your palm rests flat over your heart. Your body is warm, but a blizzard rages inside your ribcage. You lost them, again. . . and you don’t feel fury, or sadness, or any other way. You don’t feel shit.

A low pathetic sound escapes you. Titanium wires stitch your jaw closed, pulled so taut you'd chip a tooth without your magic. For a split second you think of dispelling the magic around the tracker and letting them come to you. . . but you don’t; at least Taurus’s training remains effective. You’re sure your brain will let you feel anger as soon as you’ll be in a position to survive the consequences of anger birthed stupidity.

Aisha leans to her side just enough to see your front, confusion written on her face as to why you had suddenly gone quiet. Though your eyes still burn with an inferno, they feel empty to her. She remembers her father’s eyes had been the same when he had returned from fighting. “Did you lose someone?” She asks, voice soft.

“Yes.” You grunt, and fuck, it feels insulting to them how lost you sound. You’re one of the best mages on the planet for fuck’s sake, you’re not supposed to feel this way. “Lost a lot of people.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be.” You finally pry your hand off your chest, both hands now hanging by your sides, fingers curled into fists. “You had nothing to do with it.” You wish you could say the same to yourself.

You shake your head; feelings can come after the job is done. You know the general lay of the land enough to know there is a small city not far from where you are, one that isn’t too harsh on mages. It would take her a couple of hours on foot to reach, but it’s better than nothing. You tell as such, starting to walk towards your motorcycle. “Get to the city, don’t linger around here.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Aisha follows after you, struggling to keep up. “What am I supposed to do when I get there?” Her mind swirls with all sorts of questions, where will she go? What of her parents? What if—

“Do what you want.” You shrug and get on the motorcycle, the engine roaring to life. “Join the military or the circus or whatever else, just don’t stay here.” And with that you drive off.

. . .

"Well, would you look at that." A man sighs as he pulls the binoculars down to rest in his lap, a deep frown on his face. It only lasts for a scant few seconds before he smirks, crows feet forming around his eyes. "Our firebug's manners haven't changed one bit." The man chuckles and turns his head to regard his companion, eyes glowing the color of crystal clear quartz.

"Oh, I wonder who taught him that." The woman sitting next to him snarks, the blue chains marring her arms disappearing like a mirage when she dispels the illusion spell. The human skin melts away to coarse sand and weathered whalebone, red bone eating worms squirming and boring holes into the whalebone, small anglerfish lures softly waving through the air as if she's deep beneath the sea.

The man purses his lip, "I've no idea what you're talking about."

"I'm sure, mister 'I dropped a mountain on an oil rig with my second in command still in it'." Water flows between the seams of whalebone, extending past the stumps of her wrists to form hands of seafoam and salt.

She uses her newly remade hands to tug on the man’s ear like he’s a disobedient child.

The man scoffs and bats her hand away. "Hey now, you did say you wanted to go diving." He shrugs, "Oh, and looks like I won our bet." He smirks, catching the golden coin the woman throws him. Charles's face smiles on one side of it, but the man pays it no mind and puts the coin in his pocket; they’re both far too old to care about money and the dead kings on them.

“Yes, but not like that!” She snaps, not even the bandages around her head able to hide the glare she throws at him. But instead of following up on her anger she sighs and looks down at her hands. Glowing blue plankton swim in the crystal clear waters, but it feels like yesterday her hands were dyed a burning orange.

She hates what they had to do. What they continue to do. “Ifrit is still too reckless. Your plan failed.”

“No it didn’t.” He shoots back. “We just overestimated the kid again. It wouldn’t have been a problem if you hadn’t coddled them all so much.”

The man fully expects the slap on the shoulder he receives, cool water splashing on his greying blond hair. He doesn’t comment on it, simply runs his hand over the patch of wet hair. Small green shrubs bloom on the cracked earth texture of his palm, moss crawling up the crystalline outcrops along his elbow bone, little flowers sprouting in his hair and beard.

They sit in silence for a moment before the woman sighs and hangs her head. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.” Lifting her head she angles it to look at the man. “I just… I wish we didn’t have to do this.” She confesses. “It breaks my heart to see Ifrit so lost.” As much as her still heart can be broken.

“I know, I know.” He reaches out to gently take her hands into his. Though she can’t see his face, even her magic can only go so far, she knows he’s sporting a gentle smile. “Ifrit will be fine. He has no choice.”

Two jet planes fly overhead, engines screaming, blind to their existence as they rush after their prodigal soldier like bats out of hell.

The woman grimaces, water easily sliding past his fingers as she pulls her hands away. “I know,” She tilts her head towards the abandoned house, and the girl slowly walking away from it. “I suppose I’ll find something to occupy myself with.” The woman gets up, glancing at the man once again. “I hope you know what you’re doing Taurus.”

"I always do Sierra."

. . .

The atmosphere is so thick a vampire could bite into it. They all know first hand how missions can go wrong in a moment’s notice, but none of them had expected it to go this pear shaped; some of the mages they had been given are dead, the rest are all in some kind of coma, and it’s a miracle that Captain Roberts had survived long enough to get medical evac with how burned up she was. Gaz had almost lost his lunch when he’d gone to pick up the mage captain and her arm had fallen off in brittle pieces of blackened bone, fabric and skin melted together all over her torso.

"Are you boys alive?" Is the first question out of Laswell's lips when the contact her. The shoddy connection makes her face grainy and pixelated, but her voice is clear enough, tinged with exhaustion and the light of the screen darkens the bags under her eyes.

“Yeah,” Kyle says, “Besides nearly getting turned into KFC we’re fine.” He moves his wings for emphasis, holding back a grimace at how the residual soot and ash irritates the soft skin beneath his feathers. He’ll be lucky if it’ll wash out after a week, though the grime is only secondary to the stench of death and heat clinging to him.

Soap grunts, not bothering or simply forgetting to pull the frozen piece of rubber from his mouth before speaking. “O-cgh ohnlhy ah fheph burhnrs.” Spit leaks down his swollen lip as he gurgles. It hadn't been noticeable at first, but when the adrenaline wore off the pain in his gums hit him like a truck. The medic had given him the rubber to soothe the burns all over his mouth, and he would have been pissed about how much it looked like a doggy chew toy if the relief it brought wasn’t worth it. Doesn’t mean he’s any less agitated about looking like a teething puppy.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” Kyle chides, singed wingtips flicking against the back of Soap’s skull.

Johnny pulls the rubber out of his mouth enough to growl back and simultaneously tries to swallow the saliva. He chokes, hitting his chest a few times and coughing, “Yae try ta talk with a burned mouth! Feel like ah’ve been gargling devil pish.”

“Boys.” Price snaps, voice as cold and hard as his reptilian eyes. “Enough.” There’s a hardness in his gaze neither men have seen in a while or even think of challenging. It’s easy to see that something is bothering the dragon, even if he doesn’t say it, and whatever it is, it’s got Price angry.

Not the usual ‘shouting and arguing’ angry Price gets when he’s given dog shit orders, no. This is the cold and silent anger that precedes the destruction of cities.

Soap looks away, biting down on the frozen rubber. Gaz mumbles an apology.

“John,” Kate begins, sensing the storm in his head. “What did you find out?”

“Ifrit knows Ruin magic.” Price says, bits of steam rising from the corners of his lips as his anger shows. He had gone centuries believing that despicable magic had finally died out and rotted away like every mage that used it. He was wrong. Very wrong.

“Shit.” Laswell rubs the bridge of her nose, “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Price’s wing flares out a bit, tail flicking side to side in a subconscious show of agitation. “I felt it.”

“Anyone care to share with the class.” Simon asks, arms crossed over his chest and claws digging into his biceps. The light pricks of pain keep him grounded enough to ensure his arms don’t turn into puffs of dark smoke; he’s had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach ever since the fight, something about you — how you moved, how confidently you used magic — he hadn’t seen it in a while.

And it didn’t bode well. It was better when a mage was scared of their own shadow and put on a cheap mask of confidence. But with you? There wasn’t even a single second of hesitation in anything you did.

Price looks at him, then at the two sergeants, finally looking at Laswell as the two exchange nods. “It’s nothing good.” A sigh leaves him. “Ruin magic is old and dangerous,” Price starts, eyes hard like stone. “The last time it was used a plague swept across Europe.”

“What?” Kyle’s eyebrows furrow. “Do you seriously mean the black death was caused by magic?”

"Yes," Kate says, "But we can have a history lesson later. Ifrit knowing ruin magic changes things, they're now our top priority."

"Ah dhogh geh-" Soap remembers they can't understand him and pulls the rubber out of his mouth. "Ah don't get it, what's so special about ruin magic? Ain't all that magical shite the same?"

"No." Price grunts, "A ruin mage needs the body of another person to learn a spell. They see anything or anyone living as chunks of meat to be used in their spells." His eyes darken, claws digging into his palms.

He shakes his head. “Did you manage to get any information about Ifrit from the tags?” Price asks. He had sent photo copies of each dog tag to Laswell as soon as Johnny had given them to him.

Soap pulls the rubber from his mouth, swallowing the excess spit before reaching out to grab the tags laying on the table. He doesn’t know why, but something about holding them feels sacrilegious to him; like he’s holding the pelt of another werewolf instead of pieces of metal.

“No, Ifrit’s tags aren’t ones made by the military.” Laswell says, and that piques Kyle's interest. He leans over to look at the tags as Johnny inspects them. The metal chain hangs loosely off his fingers, weighed down by more than a dozen tags dangling from it. They vary in damage, some are bent, some have black heat marks on them in the shape of fingertips, and some are so blackened he needs to use his fingers to feel the text. Silicon silencers prevent the tags from making noise when he lays them down in a pile on his palm, a couple of them spilling over to hang at the sides of his hand. The first thing he notices is the stench, nothing specific like the smell mages have, but it’s not pleasant either.

Soap takes a random tag and reads off the fine text —

‘JACHAL

VENENUM, ACIDUM, L9

MAJOR

O NEG

JEWISH’

“Yer telling me.” Soap huffs, taking out his own tags from beneath his shirt to compare the two, just to make sure he’s not insane and the tags don’t make sense.

“What kind of shite even is this?” Johnny’s tags sport his full government name and security name without mentioning his rank. The tags he has in his hand look more like the ones civies would get personalized than anything else. He grimaces and hands the tags over to Gaz, “Are they even real?” He asks.

“Why would someone just carry around a bunch of fake tags?” Gaz asks, inspecting them as well.

“Could be part of a wannabe militia. Wouldn’t be the first time some punks with guns tried to play army.” Ghost shrugs. “Could also be to throw us off.” Ghost suggests, tilting his head enough to see Kyle appraise the small hunks of metal. “Or it’s all for shits n’ giggles.”

Kyle’s sharp eyes spot the tag he had been looking for; the tag is the only one without a silencer, the metal caked in soot and ash that the letters are hard to see and Kyle needs to trace the metal with the pad of his thumb to understand what they say:

‘IFRIT

IGNIS, CINIS, RUINA L10

CAPTAIN–

“Whoa,” Gaz’s eyebrows raise. “Ifrit’s a bloody captain.”

“What’s someone like that doing as a terrorist’s dog?” Soap asks.

“Ifrit’s motives remain unclear, but I did find something.” Kate shuffles some papers off screen, pulling up two thin looking file folders. “Two of the tags you sent me have actual people on them.” She says, taking a paper from each folder. Even through the camera they can see how the once crisp white paper has been yellowed with age. “Lance Corporals Hutch and Lambert, both presumed KIA nearly 11 years ago along with their entire squad. Apparently they were led by Corporal Yerrow to conduct a reconnaissance mission in Iraq to investigate a human smuggling ring, but a shoot-out caused a forest fire and no bodies were ever recovered.”

Johnny sniffs the air, crossing his arms over his chest, tail tip slowly wagging. “Anyone smell bull shite?”

“You’re not the only one.” Kate turns the files so the text side is aimed at the camera. More than half of the documents are redacted to the point it looks like a rorschach test. “I haven’t been able to access the original files, if they even exist, but the agent that oversaw the mission was a predecessor of mine, I’ll see if I can get in contact with him. ” It wouldn’t be the first time the CIA covered something up, but what could have happened back then that even Kate couldn’t get to the files?

“Great, what other shite can we pile on our plates?” Soap growls, ears twitching.

“Don’t jinx it.” Kyle says, gently setting the tags on the table.

“There’s another thing.” Kate adds, putting the files away.

“Nice going puppy.” Ghost grunts, ignoring the look Soap gives him.

“Whatever it is, it’ll need to wait.” Price says, speaking up finally. “Ifrit’s a ruin mage. We need to put it down before it melts half the country to slag.”

“That’s the problem.” Kate’s voice makes Price’s eyes sharpen, slitted pupils turning into thin black lines. “We’ve managed to identify the gas used in the terror attack. It was Sarin gas, remnants of Barkov. The same ones Makarov stole.”

“Told you they’re a damn magnet fer wankers.” Soap mutters under his breath. Price's eyes shift to him, giving him a hard look and making it very clear it’s not the time for his comments. Soap’s ears twitch and his tail curls around his leg.

“How did Al-Qatala get their hands on the gas? There’s no way Makarov would just hand over his toys.” Ghost asks.

“We don’t know yet. And we might not ever know if you don’t hurry.” Kate stresses. “The top brass figured out Khaled’s location, they think Ifrit’s going after Khaled so they’re sending troops to take them both out in one place as we speak.”

Price catches on quickly. “Kate, you’re not telling me we need Ifrit alive?” Price stresses, body stiff.

“I’m not,” Kate rebuts, just as tense. “This is an order.” Price flashes his teeth at her, but finally looks away, black smog escaping past the corner of his lips.

“If you can’t get to Khaled, Ifrit will be our only chance to get Makarov.” She ads.

“So go capture the human bomb without dying.” Gaz summarizes, claw tips nervously scratching at the fresh pin feathers growing from his forearms. “Sounds easy.”

“Walk in tae park.” Johnny snarks.

"Only the parks on fire." Ghost adds, tone dry as old bone.

Price stays still and silent for a few moments. Thunder rumbles in his chest and his tail tip lashes against the floor as indications of his anger. His claws scrape against his palms with the need to tear into the festered flesh of the ruin mage, to rip out the heart and destroy it so he can make sure that blasted magic is gone for good.

But he relents, only so he can have unrestrained access to you once they get the information they need. “Pack up. On the double.” Price growls. “We’ve got a mage to hunt.”

. . .

Why did you do it?

It had been a split second decision to divert course when you'd sensed the Devourers, and even then, the mana they gave you through Beelzebub was miniscule compared to what you were used to handling. Hell, you probably wasted more mana using the temporary invisibility spell to get close to the Devourers than what you made from them.

With Khaled's betrayal and an unknown military likely after your head, ignoring the Devourers would have been the smart move. Your ‘heroic’ act won’t earn you any brownie points with whatever made the mistake of putting you on the planet — that’s for fucking sure.

But. . . she reminded you of, well, you. The you violent flames had cremated when they first sparked across your fingers. The you you’d left behind when you took your friend’s hand and ran as fast as your legs could carry. The you you’d been forced to stuff beneath the floorboards and ignore as you lied to the recruiter. The you you sometimes wish you hadn’t forsaken for the sake of survival.

. . . eh, what does it matter? Frosty’s as dead as the rest of them and no amount of grief and tears (assuming you could even force yourself to weep) will bring him back. Maybe it’s a good thing you never found his tags, the universe’s way of keeping him from suffering the humiliation you’ve inflicted on the others.

The engine roars beneath you like a caged beast, each little rock and hole in the uneven terrain causing the motorcycle to buck, the back of the seat knocking up into your tailbone. It’s a necessary evil, driving far away from the main road with the lights off helps you evade detection slightly better, and you’ll take anything you can get. Your commander’s words are etched into your bones: “Only let your enemies know you’re coming when your knife is hilt deep in their throat.”.

The sizzle in your bones and little deep pinpricks of pain in your lower back are barely noticeable with how numb you feel. Both in body and in what’s left of your humanity. You’ve gotten good at that — turning off your emotions and doing what needs to be done; you’re sure if you got shot dead that your body would finish the mission before it figured out there was a bullet in your skull.

Sometimes you even wonder what a witch would see if she ever tried to scry into your heart. Would it still be the hellish landscape Taurus showed you all those years ago? Or would it be like Pompei? Or some other landscape of impeccably preserved tragedy?

Your fingers twitch around the handlebars in an attempt to stop yourself from reaching out for something that’s not there anymore. Some vestigial and selfish part of you whimpers and yearns for the brief respite the tags brought. Their absence feels more suffocating than all the times you’ve been hanged; more painful than when your throat had been used as an artistic butcher’s canvas.

Your magical senses pick up the life signs long before your enhanced ears hear the screech of jet engines. You nearly snap your neck with how quickly you look up, able to catch two jet planes flying overhead by the glow of their engines, trying to track both of their flight paths.

You tighten the grip on the handlebars and increase the speed. You don’t stop to see if they saw you, you know they did from the way the planes twirl in the air. . . and from the way they shoot rockets at you.

Letting go of one handle you let mana rush to your fingers, cinders burning away your sleeve and glove. Just as the rockets get close enough for you to hear their screeching you swing your arm up, a burning arch of flames following after your palm. The motion is enough to tell your brain what you want, a thick screen of roaring flames spreading out from the arc in front of you.

The missiles hit the wall of flames instead of you. You swear you nearly go deaf from the loud explosion the missiles make when they connect with your defense magic, everything around you shaking from the sudden force but the spell holds, not even a scratch in sight. The resulting smoke flares around the sides in a suffocating cloud, the thick wall of fire obscuring your vision and forcing you to blindly swerve side to side.

Your magic may protect you, but it can’t stop the rocket from hitting the ground right in front of the wheel. The whistle and screech of the missile is the only warning you get before the ground beneath you explodes and sends you flying. You hit the ground and roll, jagged rocks slamming into your bones, scraps of metal pelting your back. Magic washes over you to heal the bones you break.

It leaves you feeling every bit of pain when the motorcycle falls on top of you, pushing the breath out of your lungs. The sudden force has your jaw slamming onto the ground, your tongue caught between your teeth. Blood floods your mouth. It tastes like battery acid and burns your throat on its way down to your stomach, but it forces adrenaline to rush through your system and let you push the motorcycle off you.

Your spine cracks multiple times in the short seconds it takes for your magic to fix the bones, giving you back the sensation in your limbs so you can roll to your side and avoid another missile. You summon a few smaller flame shields to protect your head and vitals from the blast, but not from the sharp rocks that hit your back like grenade pieces.

Your vision swimming and ears ringing you scramble to your knees. You’re given no choice but to use your own blood. Even with the distraction of another missile hitting your shield, it’s easy for you to focus your mana. It flows from your heart to your fingers but you don’t let it escape like it wants. Forcing it to pool in your palms until the heat burns away your remaining glove and turns the stone of your hands into lava.

It only takes a few seconds for fat drops of brightly melted rock to drip onto the ground, and only then can you feel your blood, both the one in your veins and the rivulets of bright orange freely flowing down your back. Burning hot and brimming with so much mana it’s no problem for you to take hold of the blood you've bled. Bright crimson crawls across your back to draw a magic circle from memory alone.

Quickly hunching your back generates enough force to make your blood bust through your vessels, two arcs of blood tearing through skin and muscle like a knife. The bright glow of your blood lights up the dark, stray droplets hovering in the air like oil in water as more of it flows from your body and branches out until it resembles skeletonized wings. Fire sparks at your skin and follows the blood, forcing it to crystallize in place as ash takes up the space between the bones and cascades down in long shrouds. Obsidian sharp crystal blood digs into your skin with every little move of your new wings as they twitch erratically. Lighting races up your spine, your mind forced to create new nerves and deal with sensations it wasn’t designed for.

You summon a circle beneath your feet, ash bursting up to send you high into the air in a long continuous column like it’s the tower of Babel just as another missile hits the place you had been moments ago. The spark from the rocket ignites the ash, giving you an extra few feet in the air before you start to fall.

The leftover smoke swallows you whole, gravity forcibly tipping you back until you’re falling head first. The wind screeches in your ears and the grounds gets closer and closer with every second, the grim reaper laughing over your shoulder; you remember yelling and screaming, even passing out, many times during this type of training. Now, you are calm.

Your mind finally creates the right nerves to move your limbs. Your wings spread out with the same violence they burst out of your back, sharply pulling on your chest muscles as they swing out and down. The flap of your wings breaks off a bit of the ash covering your crystallized blood, flames burning at the tips of your wings making the ash erupt in an explosion and creating enough force for you to soar high into the air.

Flying is hard regardless of how often you’ve done this, your back muscles cramping as you struggle to use your new wings. Not that it actually is flying in the same sense the harpies or other winged creatures would call it. More like gliding with extra steps. Either way, it serves its purpose in making you airborne and mobile.

You shoot high up into the sky like a bullet, trails of ash following after you and wrapping around you like a shroud. The quick movement of your wings and sharp turns let you avoid a set of missiles shot at you, but even at your fastest speed you’ve got no chance of hitting the quick jets flying around you like flies. So instead you use simple spells and hope your aim hasn’t gotten rusty. The muscles in your core and arms tense, a circle forming flush with your palms. Mana rushes to your arms and you use the brief stability in the air between the flaps of your wings to set off your spell.

A solid beam of concentrated flame shoots out, thin as a pencil but it tears through the clouds and metal plane like butter. You manage to cleave off a wing, the wound left behind in the metal glows brightly, before a simple thought activates the latent magic and the entire jet explodes a second later.

Rockets and bullets fly at your back like plague carrying insects, only to be burned away by your magic. Your neck hurts from how sharply you jerk your head to look behind you, mana flowing to your eyes to enhance your sight until the jet is clearly visible. At least you have comfort in the fact your hand eye coordination is still as sharp as ever, another beam of fire cleaving the jet in two.

And just like that, you’re alone in the sky.

You don’t realize how rapidly your heart is beating until you take a moment to breathe, wings spreading out to let you glide through the sky. You reach into your pocket to pull out the tracker, a small piece of rich green rock. Your magic swirls across the surface of it, cinders worming through the stone; You don’t know how they found you when your magic is still active on the tracker, there are no ‘happy accidents’ in your line of work.

Gritting your teeth you dispel your magic around the tracker and toss it as far as you can in the opposite direction, wings pressing closer to your body to increase the speed of your glide.

With your motorcycle more than likely fucked, you have no choice but to rely on your bloodmade wings longer than you’d like. Using the mana you’d stuck on Khaled as a compass you let yourself fall and gain speed before spreading out your wings. The deep muscles in your back and chest scream for a second with each flap of your wings before your magic silences them, the discomfort of using temporary limbs easy to shove into the back of your mind. Your flying speed is much faster than that of the motorcycle, the ground moving rapidly beneath you.

You’re only mildly surprised to feel Khaled’s presence in his base. It’s an old oil refinery that was abandoned when the Russians restricted the production of oil in the country. Khaled found it and turned it into a bastion, hiding up high in the mountains like he’s some kind of king.

Any old dragon can attest a kingdom of steel and concrete like that won’t survive scorching flame.

Your only problem is that it’s got magic sensing tech, which just means there’s some extremely sensitive electronics that end up sparking like shoddily made light bulbs when more than just the smallest amount of modern magic is used. Sometimes you hate how thorough you are.

Luckily for you, it’s not the first time you’ve had to sneak past such tech.

You land near the base of the mountain, just at the edge where you know the range of those sensors ends. You’d like to say you land gracefully and with barely a sound, but you’re pretty sure a tank would have an easier time than you. The exhaustion and the added weight on your back doesn’t help you in any way to keep balance, making you stumble forward and almost trip on a root. Your arms spread out to grip the trees for support, but you underestimate your strength and the wood splinters under your right hand, making you fall face first.

The few seconds you spend flat on the ground is probably the longest you’ve spent laying down in the past month.

With a sharp breath you get to your feet, carefully leaning your shoulder against a tree. Your makeshift wings press against your back and pull on your muscles, but the thought of ‘what if you’ll need them?’ keeps you from dispelling them. Embers burn away the clothing shielding your front, giving yourself just enough sight of your skin to be able to cast the spells you need.

It’s one thing to push your mana to your hands and out as magic, it’s another to force the burning heat through every little capillary in your skin and pull on it in certain spots until magical circles etch themselves into your skin. It’s not that far off from using blood magic, only it requires a little less mana and focus. You’ve done this so much you could do it with your eyes closed, filling the insides of the circles with little diamonds and magical sigils only your mind can grasp.

The body enhancing spell has an immediate effect. The pain in your back disappears suddenly like it was never there, the vestiges of weakness from mana use getting pushed back to the back of your mind. It even dispels the base painful thrum in your skull you hadn’t realized you had.

With a clearer mind you go about casting more similar spells that carve themselves into your skin; one to temporarily strengthen your body beyond what you already have, another to force your mana generator to increase in productivity, yet a third one to increase the potency of your spells; Buffs that push your body past the edge of what it can take, to the point you barely feel human.

This is the closest man will ever come to godhood. ”Don’t let it get to your little head firebug.”

Your last spell to prepare is different. A dirty trick.

“Valefar.” You huff, speaking another name for a spell that deserves respect. Nothing happens at first, but then you feel it. Like a living thing deep beneath the earth, Valefar hums a soft lullaby to the tune of crackling flames. The dirt beneath you expands and black flames break through the earth, creating a spider web of dark old magic that fills up the empty root system spanning the entire mountain. The flames don’t dare touch you yet. They’re waiting. . . hungry.

Before the problematic thing in your skull can give you grief, you let the waiting beast in and welcome it like a brother. Valefar’s black flames shudder and slowly, carefully, crawl up your legs, scampering along your abdomen and kissing the sharp transition between skin and mage marks. They paint the yellow glow of your mage marks a pitch black, the magma of your arms and your crystalized blood turning black as obsidian. Even the flames tipping the ends of your wings turn black as pitch.

For a second you’re accosted with the sensation of every bit of magic you had pushed into the earth over the months, every drop of mana obediently waiting its time in the rotten root system. But Valefar soothes your mind, dampening the glow of your eyes and shrouding your brain in water cool flames. Valefar lacks the crushing weight or the freezing cold of most ruin spells, simply almost thrilled to be used.

Ruin magic is too old to be tracked by modern means, and you take the first step into the range of the sensors without fear. You knew Khaled would betray you, you’ve almost started growing old in an industry that killed its soldiers young, you knew to listen to your stomach. Khaled had been one of those people you wouldn’t trust as far as you could throw them, though you never expected him to be so brazen about it. It’s no different than the day hellfire rained down on your hea-

You stop yourself mid thought the second you register your anger trying to boil over, the burning heat inside your chest making steam rise off your shoulders. Asmodeus, the one spell you won’t ever use, sparks beneath your skin; angry, vengeful. You stifle it before it can gain an upper hand, sparks of black flame flying past your lips as you breathe out and escaping through the filters of your mask.

Taurus always blamed your hotheadedness on your magic. What is a mage if not the fire Prometheus stole for you? The suffocating hate Vesuvius spewed? The blackened rotten blood giving birth to spells like Beelzebub and Valefar?

Loud gunfire breaks through your thoughts; Khaled would never practice shooting drills in the middle of the night.

You increase your pace, turning your jog into a run. As you near the old refinery something immediately stands out to you – there’s way too many life signatures than there should be. Even without a good line of sight you can sense them, all those beating hearts and flickers of life fluttering together like moths until you find yourself with a massive pain in your skull.

Breathing out a small breath you duck behind the tall trees just at the edge of the compound. To say you’re surprised to find Urzikstan soldiers engaged in combat with Khaled’s men would be an understatement. And the army didn’t hold anything back. There’s a fuck ton of soldiers, most of them hiding behind tanks that block the only exit from the compound and sponge up the machine gun fire Khaled’s men are unloading into them. Bullets rain down on both sides, there’s even fucking helicopters flying in the air — this is a full on assault.

You can still sense Khaled is in the refinery somewhere, you would be able to narrow down on his exact location if there weren’t so many living bodies buzzing around like ants. Your mind whirls with ideas; you could use the distraction and sneak past, or you could just destroy both sides in one quick and clean attack, you doubt anyone would be able to notice you using magic when they’re more focused about the hail of bullets.

A tree branch snaps beneath you, followed by the clicking of a gun and three rounds going off. “Mage in sight! I repeat I got mage in sight!”

Nevermind.

The bullets tear through your vest but just bounce off your magic enhanced skin. You turn on your heel, holding your arm out. “Beelzebub.” Burning cold swells in your heart and crawls through your veins, black flames shooting out from your palm at the soldier. He barely has the chance to scream before the black fire eats away his vocal cords, his gun clattering to the floor. In only a few seconds the only thing left of him is the uniform and the black flames burning in the shape of a man.

Despite how stupid it might be, you let go of the fine control you have over Beelzebub. It doesn’t waste a second, thousands of little wisps of obsidian fire breaking off from the main mass and shooting out at the nearest source of organic matter. Be they tree or human, Beelzebub will devour them all the same.

Fresh mana fills your chest and you’re quick to turn it into something useful. This time it takes significantly less time to spread your wings, summoning ash beneath your feet and launching yourself up into the air.

Tree branches whack you over the head before you make it into the open air. . . and accidentally smash your head into the belly of a helicopter. A dull 'thump' sounds and you're not sure if it's your head that's empty or the helicopter.

Your vision blurs for a second, and you shake your head to get rid of the temporary headache. The helicopter swerves to the side, the tail swinging right at you, the soldiers inside yelling. Tucking your wings close to your body you fall just in time to avoid the tail, twisting your body as you careen through the air until you’ve got a clear line of sight. One magic circle is all it takes to blast a sizable hole through the center of the flying machine, taking out the engine and the blades all at once.

Quickly flapping your wings you dart up through the hole you created, ash flooding the inside of the heli as you pass and erupting in an explosion a second later. The heli plumets down to the ground but you stay in the air, spreading your wings out to soar. This high up you’ve got a clear view of everything — the entire compound, made up of two big buildings connected with a catwalk and oil storage towers; The machine gun men shooting at tanks with no regard for how many bullets they use; Beelzebub’s black flames spreading across the terrain like a forest fire, consuming everything in sight until the only thing left is scorched earth and dust.

First things first, the machine guns. Though not as dangerous to you as the tanks, you’ve had enough of them to sate you for a lifetime, and you’d rather not be on the receiving end again. With sitting ducks for targets it’s laughably easy to cast simple homing spells to kill the gunner and melt the machine guns mounted on the rails.

A bullet hits your chest, tearing through the bullet proof vest. It bounces off your skin but the force nearly knocks you out of the sky. You go with the force, tucking your wings and flipping backwards in the air until you can spread them out to glide down. You notice the snipers, two on the roof of each building, one on the middle one of the tall oil towers just behind the buildings. You go for the straggler first, diving down with the speed of a bullet.

The sniper tries to shoot you again but you barrel roll out of the way. You shoot a ball of flames at the sniper when you're close enough, completely disintegrating him on contact. Turning to your side you soar through the gap between two oil towers, making a sharp left turn around the tower with a quick flap of your wings so you can quickly soar up.

The building to your right is closer and your next target. Gliding down close to the roof you you summon your spell, incinerating the closer of the two snipers. The other one drops his rifle to shoot at you with a pistol, but you just tuck your wings close and barrel roll to evade the bullets.

Your wings suddenly spread out with the force of a tightly coiled spring, the crystalline edge slicing straight through the sniper's neck like a guillotine. You're given no time to focus on the remaining snipers when a massive artillery shell flies at you. With a swing of your arm your flames race out to collide with the shell, an explosion going off right in front of your face. Ash and soot cake on top of your lenses but that's a small price to pay when you can safely dart through the smoke cloud; looks like the tanks have noticed you.

Pulling your wings close to your wings close to your body you divebomb to take out the final two snipers. You crash into one of them, your boots making contact with his chest and the force you’ve generated from your flight means you completely smash through his ribs the second his back hits the roof. The concrete cracks beneath your boot, but that doesn't stop you as you race across it, pulling your arm back to swing a fist at the remaining sniper. The skull cracks the second your fist connects, breaking completely under your knuckles, blood and brains splattering on the lenses of your gasmask.

The roof you're on has a helicopter on it, and you think of destroying it, but the tanks present a bigger problem. Leaping off the edge of the building you launch yourself back into the air, turning your attention to the tanks. There’s four of them, all spread out in a vague arc across the empty field of land between the buildings and the road leading out. Not a problem for you.

Slowing down to a smooth glide you stretch your arms out in front of you. Your flames rush out to hit the artillery shells shot at you, but it also forces the mana Beelzebub keeps stuffing into your chest to move to your palms. Summoning four evenly sized circles in front of you is easy for a mage of your caliber. With mana burning in your palms you squeeze your hands, forcing all that magic to shoot out through the centers of the circles as concentrated beams of flame. As if struck down by some god's smite, The tanks blow up the moment your magic hits them, leaving smoldering half melted skeletons of steel behind.

You land near one of the tanks with enough force to crack the charred ground beneath you, stumbling a few steps forward. You turn your head, using the tattered remains of your jacket near your shoulders to wipe away the lenses. It makes you see the clear destruction Beelzebub has wrought, the once lush forest surrounding the compound turned baren. Yet the spell hungers still, given the chance it would easily devour the entire world, and you can feel it gnaw on the edges of your passive control in it's attempt to stray away from you. Biting the hand that feeds. Arrogant. Just like Lambert.

You're forced to snuff it out, dispelling Beelzebub before it tries to sweep through the country like all ten plagues.

A shuddering breath leaves you for the first time in a while, your lungs stuttering as you breathe in for the first time in a while. Despite how stuffed to the gills with mana your chest is, how you can barely breathe with the pressure against your ribs, you can feel the familiar sting of your bones — the cost of mana use burrowing into your marrow. The missions, the ambush, this, it’s all starting to pile on. It’s the cost, you suppose, no mortal will ever become god, this is simply a consequence for your choices.

Shots ring out above the crackle of flames, bullets bouncing off your body and only making you aware of the soldiers. Thy are too much of a problem to be kept alive, but killing them with magic would be a waste of mana considering you’re slowly reaching the breaking point of how much even your augmented body can handle.

Fortunately, you’ve got a cheap trick up your sleeve. Quickly sensing the exact location of the Urzikstan soldiers you cast another spell, circles forming beneath their feet before chains of living flame ensnare them like rabbits. "Belial." You say, your gaze fixed on the Urzikstan soldiers.

Belial is softer on your arteries than Beelzebub, but it still passes from your heart and into your fingers like a kidney stone. Big globs of tar black lava drip from your arms, sizzling and steaming when splatter on the ground. But they don’t stay inert for long. You’ve seen the sight a thousand times; Roaches made of pure black lava crawl out of the puddles by the dozens, quickly skittering towards the hapless humans. They crawl up the bound soldiers, fiery mandibles eating away the flesh and boring holes through muscle, squirming into every orifice, infesting every inch of their insides.

The soldiers try to scream but their vocal cords are soon devoured as the roaches eat everything they deem useless. They gorge themselves on the fat, groups of them peeling off the skin in long strips until the bowels and other organs fall out to the ground with a wet 'splat' to be eaten by yet more roaches. The bodies twitch and convulse, falling to the ground when you dispel the chains. Blood and mucus froths at their mouths but the roaches drink up even that like it's the finest wine.

When they're done feasting they crawl into the body that's nothing more but muscle, ligament, and bone. A single hand motion is enough to command the bodies to rise. They do so slowly, limbs twitching and bodies shaking as the magical roaches squirm in the homes they've made between muscle fibers. The bodies stumble to their feet, eyeless slack jawed heads full of roaches staring at you.

Your control over them isn’t as fine as Jackal had over his puppets, but it’s still better than what most militaries see. Your well hidden anger bleeds into your magic, you don’t even need to speak for the charred puppets to stumble past you, seeking out to devour the stragglers you missed.

With that done you turn your attention to the large two story building where you can still sense Khaled’s presence.

. . .

"Ah still think this is bollocks." Soap growls when his head bumps against the roof of the Humvee because Price drove over yet another pot hole in the road. "Go capture tae mage that can turn yeh into a kebab, wonderful idea, no wee problem there."

"Noted sergeant." Price grunts, knuckles almost white as he grips the steering wheel. "Anything else you want to add?" He asks but receives a few grumbles in return. They've heard that one part of the army had come to lay siege on the refinery, and from the preliminary reports Laswell gave them, it didn't end well for the poor bastards.

"Do we even have a game plan sir?" Gaz asks, glancing between Ghost and Soap sitting in the backseat. "One that isn't 'let the mage shoot at us until they tucker out'?"

"Got a better idea?" Ghost asks with a small huff. "Let me n' Price do the heavy lifting." He grunts, "You two stay back and provide support."

Even with irritation nibbling on his nerves, Soap can't help himself. "Oh, you like it hot Lt?"

Gaz gives a surprised snort. Ghost side eyes Soap. "Mhm, scorching."

"We're getting close." Price warns, switching gears as the road starts going up the hill. His sharp senses already pick up the lingering hints of smoke and ash along with the tang of burnt flesh. Beneath all of that is something older: the rancid festering flesh of crumbling empires and wild animalistic grief.

Price grits his teeth. "Remember, we need Ifrit alive."

"Laswell never said we had to keep 'em in one piece." Ghost ads.

"Thank fock for that." Johnny says and bumps his shoulder against Ghost's. "Yae reckon she won't mind if ah take a few fingers off?" He asks, a mean grin pulling his lips back to bare his teeth.

"Play nice and I'll throw you a femur too." Ghost chuckles, ignoring the look Johnny gives him.

"Are we even sure this thing will work?" Gaz asks, looking down at the heavy piece of metal in his hands. It looks like a metal collar, runes and circles etched into the outside surface, tiny needles poking from the inside. Three vials filled with bright purple liquid are slotted into the back of the collar. The thing buzzes softly beneath his claws, like there’s a thunderstorm stuck inside the metal, making his fingers go numb.

"That's why we brought the arm restraints to be sure." Ghost says, absentmindedly tapping a clawed finger against the restraints he's holding. They look like big elbow length mittens made out of metal, similar runes scrawled over every inch.

Kyle purses his lips before his gaze turns to the roll of silver tape Price had haphazardly thrown on top of the dashboard. "What's the tape for? Planning to put a bow on Ifrit?"

"Got to wrap up the gift somehow." Ghost shrugs.

"Oh yeah, an I reckon the mage will just sit nice n pretty and let us play dress up." Soap snarks.

"Focus." Price orders, pulling their attention to the front windshield. The forest surrounding the main road abruptly disappears as if a god had photoshopped a different part of the world in it's place, verdant green replaced by scorched black ground and nothing else. The smell of burning metal and flesh is inescapable now, seeping through the cracks of the windows and making Gaz cough.

"Fucking hell." Gaz mumbles, tears stinging his eyes and forcing him to quickly put on the gas mask hanging off his neck. It doesn't help a single bit with the god awful smell.

"This shite is useless." Soap complains as he secures the gas mask to his own face. Soap had smelled his fair share of foul things in the demolition school, from Sulphur to gas and everything that could be used in making explosives, but the stench he's exposed to now makes everything else smell like daisies. "How the hell did the matchstick do this?" He can't help but ask.

"That's the work of ruin magic." Price says, tone hard and clipped.

They're forced to stop a little bit away from the compound as their path is blocked by the wreckage of a helicopter, the steel melted into the concrete road and the sides of the road too steep to drive around. They pile out of the Humvee, Soap and Gaz clutching their guns close; it's uncommon for them to use human made weapons when they're monsters, but Price isn't taking any chances with his mens safety.

They inch carefully past the remains of the helicopter, burnt cracked dirt crunching beneath their boots. With no trees in the way the compound is easy to see, and it looks just as bad as the surrounding area.

"Steaming Jesus." Johnny mutters as they walk around one of the four tanks, the metal melted and flames still flickering a top it. The land here looks like the hell his ma would describe in an attempt to put some godliness in him; The ground is cracked and charred black, hot under their boots. Ash and steam blanket the ground, making it hard to see where they step. Parts of the buildings have been melted, long strands of slag running down the sides of them. There's no light save the fires burning haphazardly across the ground, but their eyes can see fine in the dark.

"Should we check for survivors?" Kyle asks, finger tightly pressed against the safety switch, his wings spread out just enough to be able to quickly launch himself into the air if the need arises.

"Don't bother." Simon says, dark smoke slowly fizzling off his hands. The air in the compound feels heavy, feels like he's back in that fucking coffin. The hair on the back of his neck stands on end, anticipation crackling under his skin like static. "We didn't bring a dust bin. Or Henry the Hoover."

"Fuck Lt," Soap opens his mouth to speak more, but before he can make a sound, they hear a half mangled groan ring out from their side. Immediately raising his gun Soap narrows his eyes, managing to make out a dark outline stumbling towards them. At first Johnny thinks it’s a survivor, but then the steam clears enough to see it’s clearly not. What stumbles towards them is a completely skinned human, muscle and bone charred black, jaw gnashing as if it's already got their throat between its teeth.

Without thinking Johnny unloads a couple of bullets into the body, silenced gunshots echoing in the smoke. The body just soaks up the bullets, continuing to stumble after them. "Shit!" Soap hisses as he steps back, but before he can shoot at it again, Simon's shadows lash out at it.

The whips of darkness knock the corpse to the ground, managing to tear off a desecrated arm off in the process. A disgusting sound gurgles in it's throat as it tries to crawl towards them, the cracked bone of its fingers clawing at the ground. Simon moves his hand up and a spike of darkness erupts from the walking corpse's shadow, destroying the head in an instant. Soap doesn't even have time to breathe before the body starts convulsing, large black pustules rapidly swelling on its back. They explode without warning, black flames spewing out in a few feet around it like a miniature bomb, incinerating the corpse in the process.

A second of silence passes.

"What the fock was that?" Soap stresses, staring at the black flames as they burn on the ground.

"Belial." Price mumbles under his breath, blue eyes narrowing as a small breath of smoke escapes past his lips. "Magic made undead.” Price grunts. “Ruin magic lets the mage control the body like a puppet."

"Great." Soap grunts, trying not to breathe in the scent of burning flesh. "First the bomb shaped mage, now focking zombies? Firecracker's pulling out all the stops." Soap’s tail flicks to his leg and he grips his riffle tighter. "Shit, that smell too." He doesn't know how you keep managing to make things smell worse and worse, but fuck, he's sure the stench will be stuck in his pores for the rest of his life.

"Not a fan of barbeque?" Ghost asks as they step around the burning corpse. Or rather what remains of it.

"Not quite the cook out ah have in mind LT." Johnny grumbles.

"Remind me not to join you two at the next brass dinner." Gaz ads with a humorless chuckle before his harpy eyes spot more movement. "Tangos, one o'clock." He says, and doesn't need to be prompted to fly up into the sky to be their eyes.

"Stick close and aim for the head." Price orders, all of them slowly and quietly making their way into the compound. They encounter more zombies, some of them stumbling around mindlessly, some simply standing. Knowing where to hit they're easy to take out unawares, a couple of bullets through the skull enough to get the corpses on the ground.

Kyle lands behind them when they near a two story building. Another one is opposite it, a catwalk above them connecting the buildings together. A nearby door is torn off its hinges, smoke spilling through it into the surrounding air. It's the only place they can think of where you might be.

"Simon, with me." Price says, "Gaz, Soap, secure the perimeter." Price doesn't need to say it twice. Simon steps close to him, guarding his six as they enter the building. Large holding tanks are built in the center of the building, smoke filling the room up to their knees and the occasional cinder of ash gracefully fluttering through the air. Price automatically checks his right, eyes focusing on the stairs leading to a small room on the second floor, one set of stairs on both sides of the room. Bits of thick ash cascade down the stairs, and both of them can smell the rot.

He makes a small hand motion and Simon understands easily, leaving his side to duck behind the towering oil tanks, crossing the room and reaching the other set of stairs. Quietly they make their way up, making sure not to make a single sound. The door on Price’s side is torn off too, his pointy ear flicking as he hears what he assumes to be your voice, low and muffled, simply asking: "How?"

. . .

Your hand shakes from how hard you try to keep yourself from crushing Khaled's skull. You can already imagine the way bone would softly creak before finally splintering to pieces, the way blood and brains would squelch between your fingers. You grip his head hard enough to bruise instead, his skin bubbling and hair burning from the barely controlled heat of your hand.

Khaled looks exactly how other prideful men look when you come to collect your due — eyes wide, teeth clenched, legs weakly kicking you as you have him dangling in the air. You’d usually feel satisfaction, but the only thing in your heart right now is a suffocating cold.

The cold extends to your free hand, turning the lava into inert stone so not even a single thread of the patch laying in your palm is burned; A black decapitated right hand sits in a crimson backdrop. A crimson eye in the center of it cries bloody tears. ‘Mortem Opetere’ is stitched on top of it, boldly proclaiming what awaits you. Across both sides just three measly words turn your world upside down: ‘Red Right Hand’.

Your jaw feels welded shut as you try to open it, moving your tongue like your mouth's full of barbed wire before you manage to force out one word: "How?"

Khaled grunts instead of answering, coughing as the ash cascading off your wings continues to twirl in the air. Beelzebub’s flames dance at your feet, consuming the magical ash the second it touches the floor so the room feels suffocating, but it doesn’t make him pass out.

You grip him harder, claws of lava burning through the surface of his skin until you’re digging into the muscles covering his bones, his screams fall deaf on your ears. Even like this, barely able to hold yourself back from cracking his skull like an egg, your magic is controlled. You only let enough mana linger in your palm so the heat burns and stabs at his nerves, but not enough to completely destroy them. “How. Did. You. Get. This?” You ask again, each word like a sharp stab to your tongue.

Khaled bites his lip so hard it bleeds, glaring at you with utter disgust in his eyes. “Ask your- mh!- your commander lich-”

You notice the enemy presence a second too late, gunshots blasting in your ears. Having dispelled your body enhancing spells because of how taxing they were, you’re left with no choice but to blindly throw up a shield of crackling flames to destroy the bullets.

You miss one.

The bullet hits the crystalized bone of your wing and it's all it takes to create a spark. The ash making up your wings erupts, the resulting explosion unable to damage your wing but it does knock you forward. Khaled slips through your fingers as you both are tossed to the ground from the force. Your magic surges through your hand even as you scramble to stand, magic circles forming in the air to shoot uncontrolled flames at the two exits of the room.

Ropes of dark shadows shoot out from the right doorway, forcing you to throw yourself to the side to dodge them. You get to your feet just as the shadows hit the wall at the height of your head, quickly eroding a hole into the steel; The wraith has found you, and likely the rest of the misfits too.

You're careful as you stuff the patch into your pocket, but have no regard for the muscles in your back when you spread your wings out. Fresh ash cascades down the crystalline bones just as you flap your wings to send a gust of ash towards the front of the room. Mana surges to your cold arm and melts the stone into liquid lava which you fling into the cloud of ash, the heat from those drops of lava causing another explosion. Unable to sense where the wraith is, you focus on completely blocking off the exits in your flames, bright circles forming at the doorways and white hot flames shooting up, spilling over the door frame to scorch the ceiling.

You’re too distracted to notice Khaled move "Idiot boy have I taught you nothing?" the crackle of flames and the exploding ash masking his labored footsteps. His hand grabs your shoulder and pulls you back enough to jab a cold needle of a syringe into your neck.

Your wing shoots out automatically, knocking him back with enough force to have him crash into the wall. You yank the syringe out and toss it to the ground. The glass shatters, residual drops of bright purple liquid seeping into the ground.

But it’s too late.

You can feel Morgana’s tears course through your system, burning each cell in your blood vessels like battery acid, leaving your throat feeling numb and head light and heavy at the same time. You sway on your feet before your legs go weak and you fall to your knees with a gasp as if someone had punched you in the gut, your burning fingers tearing gouges into the floor as your muscles tense and relax a million times a second. Beelzebub’s black flames shoot out from between your fingers, freezing cold solidifying around your heart and in your arteries. It's a useless attempt to stave off the serum, to give you a few seconds more to escape, but you're glad for it.

You push on the ground with all the strength you can muster and get back on your feet. The weight of your wings nearly makes you fall on your ass as you’re forced to take a few shaky steps to keep your balance. From the corner of your eye you can see Khaled stumbling away from you, to the third exit to the room which leads to a catwalk connecting this building with another.

Raising your hand you try to summon a spell to take him out, a shaky circle forming at your palm. It breaks into a million pieces when a heavy body slams into you like a train, breaking your concentration and your ribs. You’re forced back until your wings hit the wall, forcing them to spread out as some of the crystal audibly breaks and cracks, accosting your brain with pain signals your mind was never created to handle.

Your hands shoot up, “Fire-” You force out in an attempt to combat the shroud Morgana’s tears weave around your mind. A circle forms, the usually crisp lines wonky and inconsistent. A few measly sputtering sparks flicker in the center of the circle before you’re able to force a bout of unwieldy flames in the face of your opponent.

You can feel how weak your fire is, you doubt you could give a man a second degree burn, let alone scratch the fireproof skin of the dragon that comes charging through your magic. Icy blue eyes dance in the periphery of your vision seconds before the dragon punches you right in the diaphragm.

You hunch over and almost vomit up an organ as all the air is forced out of your lungs. You feel your muscles tear and ribs break, your magic too focused on healing you to numb any of the pain that comes racing to your brain. You don’t know how you’re still standing but you weakly manage to slam your elbow back into the wall, quickly cooling lava scraping the metal and causing a spark.

The ash explodes for a second time, the force of it making your wings crack further yet they still hold. It creates a hole in the wall and forces the dragon to stumble back with a cough. You tip back and fall through the hole, the whole world weighing down on your body before you crash on the hot hard ground. The sudden stop knocks the breath out of you a second time, every muscle in your back screaming at you. Your chest is steadily growing colder as Morgana’s tears bypass Beelzebub, your arms feeling stiffer with every waking second as the serum forces your mana to slumber.

Your vision swims and blurs like the lines of a water drenched painting, voices somewhere close echoing in your ears. The dragon’s cold blue eyes stare down at you for a second before he jumps through the hole. You roll out of the way with great difficulty, avoiding him just in time as the dragon’s fist lands where you had just been and shatters the earth.

Stumbling to your feet you feel your blood leak down your back, pain pulsing in your chest as your mana struggles to heal each broken bone. Your mind is scrambling for the names of the spells you haven't needed to use in a long time, your thoughts further slowed by the fact you need to dodge out of the way of the dragon's fist. “Jump.” You speak. You summon a circle beneath your feet you that launches you into the air, the whirling world almost making you vomit and you barely manage to catch yourself on an oil containment tower.

Somehow through the ringing in your ears you hear the whirring of helicopter blades, turning your head to see a helicopter quickly rise from the roof of a building and start to fly away. You don’t need magic sense to know Khaled is in it. Your hand shakes as you raise it, Morgana’s tears steadily taking more of your mana hostage to the point it's getting hard to cast a single spell. “Fire bullet.” You manage to say, shooting off a shaky ball of concentrated flames.

You miss the rotor you had been aiming for, but by a lucky chance manage to hit the tail. Your fire isn't hot enough to melt the metal fully, but it still enough to make the helicopter swerve wildly. You watch it slowly loose altitude and crash somewhere beyond the tree line.

You’re not given even a second to catch your breath before the tower shakes violently, beginning to list heavily. You catch sight of a werewolf trying to scale it and that forces you to jump off the tower. You land on the one in front of you and don't stop, leaping across the three towers. Jumping off the last one you manage to flap your wings, the pitiful explosion that goes off beneath you gives just enough lift for your slowly liquifying wings to reach the roof of the second building.

You stumble as you land on the roof, the coagulated blood forming your Daedalus wings falling to the ground with a wet 'splat'. It feels like every single inch of your veins and arteries have been turned into pin cushions, the hot lava of your arms, absent of mana, quickly cools until there’s only a thin surface of cracked rock covering your muscles and bones. Your vision swims and you can barely move your arms, trying your best to just stay upright.

Asmodeus is the only thing unaffected, burning at the back of your mind like the last star of an empty universe. It tempts you with the heat of the magic it can give, with the power you could use if you just let it in. What's a few more drops of blood when you're drowning in it?

The harpy comes out of nowhere, slamming into you with enough force to knock you off the building.

You land on your back, barely able to utter a sound from how loudly your bones crack. Your leg is numb. Lingering dredges of your magic crawl across your spine, trying to fix your wounds with the same grace as cavemen with stole tools. You whimper like a child as you try to get up, barely able to dig your fingers into the scorched dirt to get some stability.

Footsteps approach you. A boot sharply kicks your side and forces you to roll on your front. "Playtime's over." A voice rings somewhere in your ears. Your scattered brain focuses on the accent — Manchester you think — instead of the clawed hands that yank your arms behind your back. Instinctively you try to scramble out of the firm hold but it's useless and the only thing you achieve is making the enemy pull on you harder.

Your arm is forced into a sickeningly familiar constraint; The mage cuff seals around your forearm and forces your hand into a fist, the binding spells making the metal feel like your arm is coated in liquid nitrogen. Your other arm follows suit, powerful magnets activating and binding the cuffs. They lock your arms together and painfully force your chest to stick out to the point you can barely move your arm without the risk of dislocating it.

More footsteps ring behind you as you weakly struggle. "Stay fucking still." The man above you growls as he yanks the helmet off your head with enough force you’re surprised he doesn’t take your head off. You gasp as the ash and smoke filled air enters your lungs, so unused to going without your helmet. A collar is quickly snapped around your throat, so tight you can barely breathe, needles on the inside digging into your skin. The binding spell on the collar is just as vicious as the one on the cuffs, forcibly pulling your brain into the bottom of the ocean.

Your vision swims with black spots and you’re barely able to see a man squat in front of you until rough clawed fingers grip your chin hard enough to make you bleed dark purple-red blood over his fingers. The enemy tugs your head up, but you’re unable to make out more than bright blue eyes and a stupid mohawk. "Huh, ah was expecting uglier."

Spite flares in your heart. A glob of spit and red blood shoots from your mouth at his face before you can think. The slap you receive nearly knocks your head off your shoulders and bashes your brain against your skull. His claws rake across your cheek, blood pouring down your skin. "Ahgk! Fockin' disgusting-" But It's worth it to hear the man curse.

"Told you not to take it off." The enemy on top of you growls.

"Charming." A lighter voice, you think it's the harpy, ads. "He's not going to turn into. . . one of them?"

"No." A new voice joins in, hard, angry, rumbling like thunder. You think it's the dragon, but your brain struggles to stay conscious let alone try to think. "Tape."

You shake your head to be difficult just out of spite, but sharp fingers bury into your scalp and pull your head up so the tape can be sealed over your mouth.

The enemy, wraith, your mind reminds, has no problem hoisting up your cold body, manhandling you like a doll.

You’re barely conscious as you’re roughly pushed into somewhere, somewhere without a lot of space. Two unyielding bodies squeeze you in on either side, your chest is barely able to move enough to ensure your lungs get a bit of air. Panic tries to get a foothold in your mind, to make your silent heart race. The walls and ceiling feel like they’re closing in, like you’re getting squished down and at any moment your organs will rupture—

But the drugs smooth out your brain like ocean waves weather down massive cliffs, your body so exhausted you can’t manage even a small twitch of a struggle. You feel the cold muzzle of a gun press against your temple, the cool sensation making you aware of the pounding headache.

"Move," The man on your left says, voice rough like sandpaper and with a distinct accent, "An’ yer dead." His threat sounds like an order, you don’t doubt he’s just itching for you to make a single move he can justify to his brass as aggression and kill you. You know you would do the same.

The vehicle you’re in rumbles to life but you can barely feel it, body and mind too exhausted to even hold your head up. Your stomach twists and turns as if trying to find a way to crawl up through your mouth, your lungs burn from the lack of air.

“Laswell we got-”

“-bout Khaled-”

“-ead, arsonist shot do-”

“-get out, the army reinforcements are co-”

You try to pay attention to what they say, but their words bang uselessly around your hollow skull, shapes and edges blurring together into abstract art. With nothing stopping it, Morgana’s tears leisurely branch through your blood vessels like brambles, making you shiver from how cold you are. You’re stuck in maddening limbo, there’s not enough of the drug in your system to turn you temporarily catatonic — your body is too used to the drug — but at the same time it’s fucking agony.

You've done this before, you know how much small victories count. You don’t know what they want from you, but you swear to yourself not to cry from the pain, both now and when the torture starts. You’re not a fucking child, not that snot nosed private you were when you first felt the sting of Morgana’s tears, you’ve been through worse.

But the problem is, you’re not out of tricks.

Your control over Valefar slips, the exhaustion and drugs slowly wearing down the rope of control you've been maintaining for months. Since the first day you started working for Khaled. You knew he’d betray you, you had that feeling in your gut. The collar beeps as mana suddenly sparks in your chest, thawed by the ancient magic you use. Without warning the needles in the collar jab into your neck as your mana builds, pumping more of the poison into your blood.

But it’s useless, with steam starting to rise off your chest not even you are able to hold it back. A rough chuckle forces its way out of your throat. You always figured you would die by your hand or not at all.

"What’s with the giggling?" The werewolf demands, gun still trained on you. "Something funny?"

You gather your strength and slowly roll your head back, every vertebra in your spine cracking from how much damage your body has received. The trembling wall of the truck gives you the support you lack. Black spots dance in your vision, but you manage to turn your gaze to one side.

On your right is the wraith. A creature of death. Violent Death.

You feel like there’s a joke about the situation somewhere. Figures you’d be sat against the personification of violent death. You’ve been living on borrowed time for too long, the reaper doesn’t like to wait.

Shadows darkening what little you can see of his face through the skull mask, making his eyes look like you’re staring into the void.

Unnerving.

You’ve been told your eyes are much the same.

The wraith stares at your face, into your eyes. You’re pretty sure this is the first time in ten years that someone has seen the eyes you were born with. The color is so painfully drab and human.

But it don’t last. Out of nowhere mana sparks in your eyes like a violent forest fire set off from the cinder of a forgotten cigarette. Oranges, reds, and yellows swirl around the pitch blackness of your pupil, bright and intense like staring into a black hole.

There’s no grand gesture to show the snapping of your control. Your heart skips a beat as it births Valefar, the soft cool magic nibbling on your veins as a pulse of cool mana rushes through to your fingers. You see the wraith stiffen, only barely able to sense how the world quivers.

The earth shatters.

The truck jerks forward and you almost fly out of the front windshield, kept in place by someone's rough hand gripping and pulling you back in place. The earth shakes violently as months of accumulated mana melts through rock and suddenly erupts from the ground as a beam of pitch black flames. You can feel Valefar laughing beneath the ground, inside your hollow heart. It takes joy in spreading your magic as far as it can, incinerating the arriving helicopters full of soldiers before they can even understand what's happening.

The car swerves to avoid the rocks falling from the sky, the air around you trembling as Valefar makes a crater out of the mountain. They’re lucky that your control finally evaporated when they were far enough to escape the impact zone.

You tilt your head, catching sight of the wraith. He stares at you.

Your eyelids flutter without your consent, all strength leaving you, but you manage to wink at him.

You pass out.

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