#dizzy is a sweet child and I love her

[syluses]

separation anxiety

⤷ caleb experiences a rut after a long time, and it just so happens that you’re in his path.

cw. 18+ smut, hybrid! caleb, knotting, dubcon if you squint, breeding, obsessive/possessive behavior, perv caleb, fem human! reader, ruts, size difference, also a lil breeding, 3.5k words because i physically struggle to write smut without a preamble, reader is ovulating and it triggers his rut this time for whatever reason

an. saw this trope going around & wanted to try it <33 he’s got that DAWG in him 💪 also i cant decide if hybrid caleb gives german shepherd vibes or samoyed vibes…. that moments post lives rent free in my mind tho idk (>_<)

𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔, 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔, & 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅! (๑´ `๑)♡

Caleb would say he hates you for the time you’re gone, but it’d be a big fat lie. His love for you, big and bursting in his chest, deepens in the quiet windows where you’re present at work or running errands throughout Linkon before returning home to him.

There’s a permanence of you in his mind and being. He wants it no other way.

His devotion for you doesn’t necessarily drown him- no, you’re always there with a lifering waiting- but it certainly sweeps him up and threatens to.

He gets a bit ahead of himself sometimes, he’s aware of that; energetic, bulging at the seams with vigor; whether it’s an integral part of his personality or just a consequence of his breed, the pound he came from never quite knew. Your Gran never figured that out, either, and for as sweet and trying as she was, she soon realized she couldn’t foster him for long.

Because he was a big boy, hungry for attention and wired to please, well-meaning but oft over involved with personal space— and he brought a loaded package that your Gran just couldn’t sign her name off on, not after a few months, anyway. She tried her best before nudging him into your care, because she sure as hell wasn’t about to give him up to that squalid pound or the streets again- and besides, the mutt liked her granddaughter; all those visits she paid throughout the summer obviously endeared Caleb to her, and quickly.

You admit, it’s a mite difficult to juggle between long days at work, little tasks that drag you from point to point throughout Linkon, and your own personal life on top of caring for a hybrid stowed away in your shoebox apartment— but your grandmother was all but sapped of her energy then, turning to you for aid although she seldom ever did, and you’d always lend a hand where you could.

The mutt- Caleb, is his name (and you call it fondly even as he’s pawing at your thighs for attention or drooling on your collar)- has grown on you considerably in the past half year, anyway.

You won’t let him down or leave him at the curb. He’s yours. The red collar you bought him says as much, printed with your number on a silver plate, and he wears it not because you make him but because he’s proud of it.

He’s a good boy, he is. He always has been and for that you’re thankful.

Except, this week he’s… different.

As of a few days ago, it’s like he’s been testing the waters- and your patience- on just how far he can go before you tell him off or say bad dog. He must find them warm because he’s just been diving deeper as the week progresses.

You don’t know what to do. He’s oddly aggressive. It’s not rare at all for him to follow you all around your apartment, but he’s foregone the very last shred of respect for your personal space and nips when you try to push him away. Not hard enough to actually hurt- the yip you make is more surprised than anything when he pulls you back in and licks at the small red patch- but you look wounded at it.

Because Caleb doesn’t bite— he just doesn’t.

He wraps you up in seemingly endless embraces and breathes your smell in until he’s dizzy, laughing into your neck like a giddy child. He does this every time you try to leave for work and he’s made you late for it.

Maybe it’s just because you’re ovulating and a little hormonal, but it makes you quite sour and the mood stays even when you return in the afternoon. He’s never liked when you’re gone, sure, but he’s always been there to see you off at the door with a pout as you scratch behind his ear- more or less tame about it.

Your patience really frays at the odd uptick in his possessiveness, though. It’s hurtful.

You’ve always treated him less like a pet- a hybrid- and more like a friend, and you feel quite indignant for it when he growls and tells you that he hates the smell of other men on you, hearing none of your excuses that it’s ‘just coworkers’, glaring at you like some brainless extension of him. You feel less like a person and more like an object, a streetlamp in which he emerges from the shadows for just to piss on to show it belongs to him.

He’s touchy. Snippy. Glued to your side at all times. It’s concerning and frustrating and confusing all at once.

By the fifth day mark, on Friday night, you’re tuckered out by it and don’t question where he is when you return home early from a shift and he’s, uncharacteristically, not there to greet you.

A red collar however, laid on the floor, its tag glittering under dim hallways lights, strikes you as both curious and unsettling.

He never takes that off. No- says it’s his way of showing you and the whole world that he belongs to you, and— have you been too impatient with him lately? Brusque? Maybe you’re a little hormonal but it’s no cause to get short with him, even when he’s acting up, and what if he no longer wants you as his owner—

A gasp.

You find him in your bedroom, humping your pillow, yowling as he comes undone- unawares- and the walls spin as you nearly faint.

You drop your purse. “Caleb!” You shriek, and a visible shiver rolls down his spine as he turns around.

“Bad dog!”

✦

You sleep on it.

Well, you wash your sheet and your pillowcases- and then you sleep on it.

Maybe you overreacted. If anything, you should be grateful for what you walked in on because otherwise, he wouldn’t have known how to tell you he’s been going through a bit of a hot phase- the first of his you’ve experienced- and doesn’t know how to control himself.

You blush just thinking about it, shame knocking in your chest as your heart beats heavy. You feel awful for walking in on him for a number of reasons. One of them being he came all over your bed- and his tummy- and you had to clean both up through furious tears as you peeled your covers off the mattress and pointed him off in the direction of the bathroom, telling him to run the faucet and quick.

A pass of guilt, the fear of you being angry with him, made its round across his kicked expression but he held off on arguing.

For the first documented time in the whole week, Caleb appeared mellow- not agitated, restless, or tense- and rather crestfallen, and you noted it only vaguely as you irately turned on the washer.

Now, it’s in the forefront of your brain.

Well, if he’s been going through some kind of rut lately, it only makes sense he’d be all kinds of pent up, and that his release (albeit in an inconvenient way and place) would provide some relief.

It’s closer to noon when you finally exit your bedroom and meet him at the sofa- the same one you’d all but banished him to last night. He prefers to spend his nights with you, either curled up at your side or splaying his full weight over your back- a breed-relative habit, you’re sure. You’ve heard of some other kinds who enjoy a room to themselves or do just fine with the couch, on their lonesome— But not Caleb.

He looks tired but perks up when he hears you patter down the hall, violet eyes lighting when you timidly take a seat.

With a bit of hesitation, he inches closer until you sheepishly wave a hand and he barrels into your arms.

“Ah- Caleb-“

Before you can even apologize for your jumping the gun last night, he beats you to the punch. “M’ sorry. You don’t hate me for it, do you?” He sighs into your collar and you shiver, “I wish you could understand what it feels like- I wouldn’t have done it if it was somethin’ I could control, I hope you realize that.”

You swallow, digesting his words as you belatedly place a hand on his head to pet. He positively melts. “Y-Yeah,” you mumble back. “It’s okay. I actually wanted to say sorry too. I- I didn’t understand what was going on…”

A deep groan looses from his throat, his chest swelling with content as you itch that spot behind the furry ears say upright on his head. They give a few twitches as he leans against you and wraps his muscular arms around your middle, resting his chin by your shoulder.

“It’s my fault, though, not yours. I didn’t know how to tell you- I was worried you’d just end up scared’a me, or…”

His pause instills interest in you. Your fingers smooth back his brown locks, mussed from fitful sleep, and he sighs. “Or what?” You press softly.

You pull him back just enough to get a look at him, his cheekbones almost shiny with a dusting of pink. His thick brows furrow together.

“Or that you’d leave,” he whispers.

Your eyes widen. You lasso your arms around his neck and pull him to you, your head slotting above his shoulder as his fingers quickly move to support the position, one hand perched at your thigh and the other braced at your side.

“Nonsense,” you grumble at his ear, a bit angry at the suggestion. “I’d never leave you.”

Something hard, then, prods at your middle- too fleshy to be something in either of your pockets- and you stiffen at the realization as it comes a beat too late.

Caleb’s voice is breathy at your ear, low, his tail thumping on the cushion. “Yeah?” He murmurs, a pang of heat stirring in your belly at the sound. Suddenly aware, you gently go to push at his broad chest but he stops you with an imploring look- although the desire, brewing in dilated pupils, isn’t lost on you- and musters a pout.

It looks out of place, the wholesome gaze marred by hunger as it reshapes his puppyish look.

“Even when I am no better than a bad dog?”

Your brow quirks, “I didn’t mean it,” you whisper, wide-eyed as his eyes bore into yours. Every micro expression you make is being catalogued and noted with utmost care, his pink tongue darting out to wet his chapped lips as they grow dry.

“It’s okay if you did,” he murmurs back. “I’m just glad I have you around to remind me of my place…” Long, slim fingers reach up and you watch, unseeingly, as they stroke your cheek, his other hand creeping dangerously close to the waistband of your sleep shorts.

He chuckles, but the humor wanes quickly.

“Otherwise, I’d always be misbehaving. Do you even know what you do to me?” His voice is meaningful, torrid, as he draws in and the tip of his nose brushes with yours. You can’t find it in you to move as your thighs- the ones he slithers a singleminded hand in between- begin to roil with unexpected warmth.

You plant a hand to his chest, shying away, “C-Caleb-“

“Don’t worry,” he says sweetly, “M’ not gonna hurt you. I just….” He lets out a sigh, long and perhaps just a bit exaggerated- but it has the intended effect on you. You purse your lips and feel a trace of guilt twist in your heart.

“You drive me crazy. Y-Your smell- I don’t know why this is happening, either. Honestly? I haven’t had a rut in a couple years. But this…”

Caleb lets out a soft noise of pleasure, lending his full weight to you when he breathes you in and shakes.

When he speaks next, his words come out raspy and so low you hardly register them as his breaths grow labored- they’re all you can hear as the living room space shrinks down to just him and the knuckles that dare to dip into your panties.

“This is just too unfair. You won’t leave me hangin’, pretty,… w-will you?” Breathy. With an undeniable streak of need. You can’t miss the lust that usurps the softer parts of him and makes him look less puppyish and cheerful and more wolfish, calculating.

And, well, when he puts it like that, how could you?

✦

He doesn’t fuck you on the couch. He takes you to your bed and fucks you there like a lover would.

He fucks you deep and fast- to his credit, he doesn’t hurt you, staying true to his word, but the possibility of bruises becomes a nearer thing when he folds your legs back and his grasp becomes constricting, plunging in and out of your cunt with rapt focus. Indigo eyes glow with something feral, like you’ve given him no choice but to claim his ownership over you through sloppy kisses and clinking teeth as he pounds into you, driven him into a corner- but his touch turns worshipful when he presses his forehead to yours and moans.

“Ah- y-you feel so good, so tight,” he compliments, words almost slurred. His pupils expand and he looks no different than a drunken, babbling man, his cheeks a rosy red.

His murmurs are wet against your lips as they graze and mush with his, Caleb’s face so close to yours that his lashes tickle your brow as he gawks at you, so entranced by whatever it is he’s seeing to look away.

A fluffy tail sways unevenly behind him and touches your leg on occasion, almost like it’s trying to curl around you, prickling and eager. Every part of him gravitates to you. You’re the ground beneath his feet. Fertile land.

“And you’re all mine, okay? Nobody else’s. I want you to wear my scent- to carry me with you no matter where you go. You have to promise me you will- mmph- That sound good-?

“C-Caleb—“

You groan when he stuffs himself deeper inside and you swear you feel his length throb inside your walls, stretching. The veins running along his shaft carve out a new pathway in you, one special and just for him, as his balls- heavy and fat, with a hell of a lot to give- slap against your ass. Slick oozes out from the squelching seam of you, coating his thick cock but you still struggle to accomodate his size despite the lubrication.

He’s made to make you feel as if you’re losing your mind. You snatch your jaw with your own hand to keep the flurry of high-pitched sounds from spilling out lest they embarrass you, but he shoos it away and cuffs your wrists with a hand splayed over them.

“Nah- I wanna hear you, baby. You can’t keep holdin’ out on me like this... I’m giving you my all right now, so it should be pretty obvious that you can do the same, yeah?”

A mewl punches out from your lungs half a second later and he seems quite contented at that. He sighs, closing his eyes, saying,

“I’ve been good all along. Can’t you play the part, too? I just want you to see how much I really love you,” his confession is by no means considered casual what with the passion in which its conveyed, but you can’t help but feel it’s a little sudden, said a little too quickly, and you wonder if he means what he says or if the rut is responsible for all these novel, amorous feelings in him.

I mean, he’s probably too wrapped up in the moment to even contemplate his own admissions as they all spew out—

“Caleb, too big—“ you gasp, cutting him off, and he lets out a strangled kind of noise when your walls clamp around him.

Holyfuck holyfuck holyfuck do it again, he wants to say, suffocate me, but nothing comes out and he realizes after a long second that his vision has whited completely. He can’t see anything; he’s in a fuzzy, dazzling world with the blinders on and all he can smell and feel is you- your scent, sugar sweet and about as inviting as a barstool pulled out, envelopes him and he can’t breathe. Can’t speak.

He fucks into you with reckless abandon, huffs you in like it’s his final breaths, and then lets it all go without care for anything else. Far as he’s concerned, everything he knows is defined by you. This is a give and take relationship: he actually gives a damn about your opinion of him and takes all you have to offer.

He’s in love, puppyish and clumsy but fuck you lead the way and lead him on.

“Shh, I know,” he rasps out, steaming up your neck like a fogged window pane as he insinuates himself there. Your whole body feels like a furnace, burning up for him as he opens you up and tucks himself inside.

“I know it’s big, but you gotta be ready for-“ he clips his sentence short, thinking better of it.

He wants to warn you of his impending knot- the one that’ll no doubt leave you yelping and writhing away from him- you certainly deserve as much of a foreword to it, but part of him is just so terrified you’ll reject him or deny him the priviledge of shoving it inside you and fuck he can’t have that.

Caleb’s nothing if not loyal. He’s also nothing if not selfish. That’s always been a wriggling bug he’s tried to stomp out but it remains in the baser part of him, only amplified by the intense rut that came right out of the blue.

He wants you singing his name and bonded to him (or as much of a bond the two of you can form), and so that’s what he’ll get.

He’ll apologize later, and you will forgive him. So all’s fine.

“Y-You can take it,” is the simpler thing he settles on, and you let it pass, because between the fat cockhead splitting you apart deliciously and the sweet, somewhat perturbing nothings he gushes at your ear, you’re deaf to most of everything.

But when you come- unexpected and sharp, overwhelming your senses as your hips ruck up and he has to pin you down in place and ride it out with you as you cream around him- the scream you let out rings in your ears and so does his ferocious grunt. It’s loud and you’re so numb as seconds pass that feel like eons; pointed teeth teasing at the squishy chunk of your shoulder, invoking a buried sense of alarm.

And then he’s biting down hard- not just nipping- the pleasure thankfully driving off the pain as he ploughs inside, muffling a string of curses as he picks up his pace. Caleb gets sloppier and sloppier and then he’s burning white-hot inside you and moaning like a pornstar, pelvis juddering as he comes.

“Mmh- f-fuck- Good girl!” he rewards with half a brain, fucked out into perfect oblivion, and for a second you wonder why his voice sounds more meant for comfort than praise- until you expect him to pull out but he doesn’t, something big and round forming at the base of his cock that has his eyes fluttering back as it pops in. He goes boneless on top of you as every limb of yours stiffens and coils around his broad back.

You scream his name. He shivers.

It feels enough to shatter your mind- the pain searing you, but the ghost of pleasure that creeps up along your nervous system makes you go like jelly beneath him, helpless to whatever he’s got planned for you.

“C-Caleb, you-!”

“Yeah, a bad dog, a bad dog,” he stammers, whimpering at your earlobe, “I know, baby, I know. Just- don’t shut me out, okay? I- It’ll be over soon, just- ah- loosen up around it, okay? It’ll feel so much better that way. Just… hold on to me.”

“I-It hurts-!”

“Ngh, shhh…” He trembles out, shifting to sample a broken mewl from your lips, cupping your jaw with all the love in the world and staring at you as if you told the sun to rise this morning. “Be a good girl and take it, mm? Your pussy’s squeezing me so tight, I think she wants it too, but she has to relax a little first, yeah? Mm… I could give you a whole litter of pups. Give your Gran a bunch of cute lil granbabies to drive her crazy.”

You choke on your own spit, the brunet letting out a near delirious chuckle at the idea and your reaction to it before his brow gives a wince, your walls instinctively trying to push his swollen knot out.

“Wha- Caleb, is that even-?”

“I don’t know,” he kisses your forehead tenderly, his tail giving a heavy, excited thump behind him on the bed as you grab the sheets for dear life and they wrinkle, pinched like your conflicted expression.

“But I’ve been dyin’ to try it out for myself.”

[count-on-mi]

Mommy's little boy (Sana)

Since I was a child, I have grown up without a mother. My mother died shortly after I was born due to illness, leaving a young and ignorant me with my busy father.

To provide me with a better living environment, my father had to focus all his attention on his work, often working late into the night. As a result, we had very little time to spend together, and even when we did, my father rarely had time to teach me, let alone express his love for me. So, I have been extremely lack of motherly love and affection since I was a child, and this long-standing deficiency has left a deep shadow in my character.

Looking at the classmate in the mother's spoiled healthy and happy growth, my heart is full of indignation and jealousy. Especially the little boy sitting next to me, his mother spoiled him to the extreme, even letting him appear a little weak and incompetent in front of classmates, not even dare to talk back to me.

Whenever I encountered something unsatisfactory in my studies or in life, I would pour out my anger, which I had no place to vent, on that poor little boy. I would poke him in the back with a pencil during class, stop him on the way home from school, and deliberately provoke him to make him cry. I would look into his big, tearful eyes and get excited because the more afraid he was of crying, the more I felt that I had finally gotten back at the “happy family guy” a little bit.

Damn, why is he so lucky! How could he be pampered by his mother while I grew up alone? I'll make him feel the loss of his family and see if he'll still be able to laugh as heartlessly as he does now!

I was determined to humiliate that little boy at school, to show him what fear and loneliness really are. So, I began to follow him around the school, looking for opportunities to sneak up on him and tease him. I even threatened him that if he told his teachers or parents, I would punish him twice as much. Gradually, he began to develop a great fear of going to school, and every day he was afraid that I would suddenly appear behind him to give him a “surprise”. When I saw his panic-stricken face, I felt a perverted pleasure in my heart.

One day, when I was about to trouble that little boy again, his mother, Sana, appeared unexpectedly.

I was captivated by Sana the moment I laid eyes on her. Her long, wavy hair cascaded down like a golden waterfall, shimmering in the coastal sunlight. Beneath her wide-brimmed straw hat, a pair of clear, sparkling eyes gazed out from under long, delicate eyelashes, radiating warmth. Her gentle, soft smile felt like a spring breeze, soothing and inviting. She stood confidently in a bright yellow dress, the fabric hugging her full, firm breasts, while the short hem revealed her long, toned legs—each curve a tempting masterpiece, as if she’d stepped out of a dream. Is this what a mom looks like? She was perfection… I swallowed hard, my original purpose for the trip slipping from my mind entirely.

Sana approached me with a gentle smile on her face: "You are Y/N, aren't you? I'm X's mom, and I heard that you bully him a lot, is that true?"

I stammered, unable to say anything, and just nodded dumbly.

"I understand that you might be doing this out of jealousy, but I'd still like to ask you to stop hurting X. He's such an innocent and sweet boy, please let him go, okay?"

Sana's voice was gentle, and her smile was kind. But I couldn't take my eyes off her seductive body curves, and the smell of maturity and female hormones emanating from her body made me dizzy and my heartbeat faster. This is the charm of a mature woman! How wonderful it would be to spend some time with such beauty.

My brain was completely out of control, and I blurted out, "In that case, if you're willing to have sex with me... If you're willing to make love to me, I'll let your son go, okay?" As I said this, my hand was already unconsciously stroking the sore part of my crotch, and in my mind, I was fantasizing about Sana's delicate body panting underneath me.

I thought this request would be rejected, but Sana agreed without hesitation. She looked at me with a calm expression and said, "Yes, I will fulfill your request as long as you let X go. But you have to promise not to hurt him and not to haunt him anymore."

At this moment, my desire was instantly ignited to the highest pointis ripe beauty was actually willing to sell her body for her son How much does she love X ? Thinking about this, I felt extremely jealous, and decided to use the most intense way to enjoy this fragrant body in front of me.

I violently pressed Sana down on the wall, one hand choked her slender neck so that she could not move, and the other hand eagerly went to pull the bodice of her chest. Soon two white breasts popped out, their pink nipples already rising high. I kneaded them roughly into various shapes and sucked on one tip, and although Sana tried to repress it, she couldn't help but let out a whimper of delight. This undoubtedly aroused my animalistic desires, and I tore open her skirt and panties, revealing her moist mound.

I greedily buried my head between Sana's full breasts, as if I were a hungry child seeking breast milk, sucking on the nipples. One of my hand gripped the other breast and rubbed and squeezed it vigorously, feeling its softness and elasticity in his palm. The other hand explored Sana's already wet pussy, and two fingers easily inserted into it, and started pumping rapidly inside.

"Mmm... Ah... Don't... It's very sensitive there..." Sana involuntarily arched her body to avoid my advances, but I was unable to escape. Seeing this, I increased my speed and strength, and soon felt the nectar flow uncontrollably, wetting my palms.

"Auntie Sana's inside is so tight... She's still sucking on my finger with each contraction... It's so obscene... Obviously, you sent yourself here to save your son... And yet you're panting like this under your son's friend..." I flirted as I increased the intensity of my stimulation on her, wanting to hear more beautiful sounds.

Seemingly sensing my inner desire, Sana slowly closed her eyes and reached out to hug my head, fixing my face firmly on her soft and voluptuous chest. She opened her red lips slightly and murmured something softly, but I didn't feel the slightest bit of reproach, on the contrary, it was more like an encouragement to my action.

"Oooh... It feels so good... You're such a greedy little brat..." A tingling murmur escaped from the corner of Sana's mouth, and my desire soared to new heights.

Just as I was indulging in my wanton play with Sana's ripe body, I suddenly realized that she was like the embodiment of my real mother to me, just as voluptuous and charming, gentle and considerate, and tolerant of everything. I couldn't help but blurt out the word “mommy” with this association.

"Oooh... Mommy... Your body is amazing... I'm completely mesmerized by you... I want to have you forever..." I was babbling, but my hands didn't let go of my aggression on her body, and my mouth was still holding the tip of her nipple and sucking on it.

Unexpectedly, my unintentional action caused Sana to react like never before. Originally, she was just cooperating with me to have fun in exchange for her son's safety, but now my act of calling her “mommy” had undoubtedly awakened the deepest motherly love in her heart. sana opened her eyes, her pupils full of heartache and helplessness, mixed with a trace of longing that was hard to ignore.

"Little devil... I was only trying to protect X... But I didn't expect you to treat me like a mom..." Sana's voice became a little hoarse and her eyes misted up." Well... If you would like to call me your mom... Then do it... You can do whatever you want to me... I'll do my best to satisfy you... As long as I can keep X out of danger..."

After saying those words, Sana suddenly reached out and cupped my face and lowered her head to plant a soft kiss on my lips. Then she pushed away from my body, turned around and knelt down with her back to me, and used her hands to spread her two ass cheeks, revealing the reddish honey hole inside.

"Come on... Do everything you want to do with me... I'll take it... Like a real mom does to her child..." Sana said softly, her tone full of love and indulgence...

I was excited by this sudden change. The scene in front of me was so exciting that I only had time to withdraw my fingers before I pushed my already swollen and aching cock into the warm and tight tunnel. I almost ejaculated as soon as I inserted my cock, Sana's walls were so good at clamping.

I held Sana's waist with both hands and began to move in and out of her body with great vigor, each time almost pulling out my entire penis and then slamming it back in. We both let out a sigh of pleasure at the same time, this position is really too exciting, each thrust allows my cock hits the sensitive areas in Sana's body in, the pleasure quickly accumulate, soon I have the urge to explode.

"Ah... Mommy, mommy... I'm almost there... It's so good... You're so tight inside..." I hissed loudly, the speed of my thrusting getting faster and faster, almost like I was going to fuck through the beauty underneath me.

"Mmmm... Good boy... Cum in... Cum all the way to mommy..." Sana also screamed loudly, moving her knees on the ground to meet my attack, her fat ass was reddened by my slamming, and it was covered with the nectar that overflowed during the intercourse.

Finally, after a deep penetration, the hot essence was released into Sana's body, and at the same time, she also had her second orgasm, pouring her nectar onto my body like a fountain. I was lying on my back, gasping for breath, and I couldn't quit immediately, letting my body fluids be exchanged between each other.

"Oooh... Mom, you're so powerful inside... I want to do it again..." Sana smiled at that, and reached out to touch my hair.

"Good girl... Tonight you're Mommy's... You can do whatever you want... But you have to promise mommy one thing... Let X go... Don't bother him anymore... Mommy will be very sad..."

I raised my head to gaze into her eyes and nodded heavily.

After receiving Sana's promise, my desire was reignited, and my recently relieved member swelled again in no time. So, I turned over, letting Sana lean back against my chest, and slid back into her honeyed passage. I lifted one of her thighs high, resting it on my shoulder, and began thrusting vigorously.

"Ugh... Mommy, Mommy! I'm going to fuck you to death!" I groaned loudly in Sana's ear, my hands tightly gripping her slender waist, pulling her toward my hips, each thrust deeper than the last.

Sana cooperated by wrapping her thighs around my neck, her arms encircling my neck as we kissed passionately, occasionally letting out seductive moans that sent my blood racing. The sound of sticky wetness came from where we were joined, accompanied by the rhythmic slapping of my thrusts. Sana was so overwhelmed by my fucking that she lost herself, drool trickling from the corner of her mouth, too caught up to wipe it away.

"Ah... baby... slow down... you're going to break Mommy... take it easy... I'm afraid you'll cum too soon again..." Sana said haltingly, her eyes glazed as she looked at my face.

I took a deep breath to hold back the urge to release, slowing the pace and intensity of my thrusts, switching to a rhythm of nine shallow and one deep, teasing every sensitive spot inside Sana’s honeyed passage. Her reactions became noticeably more intense, her inner walls contracting in waves, like a small mouth devouring the tip of my member.

"Mommy, why you are so wet? Is it because I call you Mommy that you're even more excited?" I deliberately asked lewd questions to tease her.

"Ah... don’t say that... it’s all your fault..." Sana’s face flushed with shame, but she was clearly stirred into a frenzy by my words. "Bad boy... always saying such embarrassing things... you know it only makes Mommy more desperate... move faster... I want you..."

Unable to hold back, I quickened my pace before she could finish, pounding her dozens of times before pausing to grind against her in a mix of light and heavy strokes. Sana couldn’t handle the torment, her body soon trembling as she let out desperate, near-dying wails.

“No… I can’t… it’s cumming again… you little bad boy…” Sana’s body shook violently, and I felt a rush of hot fluid against my member deep inside her.

I knew she’d reached another blissful climax, lost in a haze of ecstasy—perfect for me to toy with her further. I spread her legs into an M-shape, exposing her quivering pink entrance and the glistening juices around it. Satisfied, I leaned down, sucking hard on one of her nipples.

“Mm… it’s dirty there… don’t lick…” Sana protested weakly, still barely conscious. But I ignored her, my tongue dancing across both of her rosy peaks, leaving wet trails in its wake. I glanced up at Sana, her face a mix of sated lust and twitching spasms.

“Good boy… making Mommy feel so good… you’re amazing…” Sana finally caught her breath, her hand caressing my cheek. “Want to taste Mommy’s milk again? You didn’t get enough earlier…”

I nodded eagerly, wrapping my arms around her waist and pressing my lips to her breast again. This time, I wasn’t rough—instead, I licked and sucked slowly, savoring her like a greedy child drinking sweet milk from his mother…

“Mmm… so sweet… Mommy’s milk is so delicious… give me more…” I lingered in Sana’s embrace like an insatiable child, burying my face between her soft breasts, eagerly sucking. Sana indulged her needy lover without hesitation, one hand gently stroking my hair, the other cradling the back of my neck, letting me savor her fully.

“Hehe… you’re like a little hungry wolf… never getting enough… looks like Mommy will need to grow a few more breasts to satisfy you…” Sana teased softly, her fingers combing through my hair.

I looked up at her, finding her eyes filled with a doting glow. A strange warmth surged in my chest—perhaps this was the “motherly love” people spoke of. It was the first time I’d seen such a look in a woman’s eyes: tender, accepting, yet tinged with desire. Overwhelmed with happiness, I threw myself into her arms, hugging her tightly.

“Mom… I love you…” I murmured, kissing her neck, greedily inhaling her scent.

Sana smiled, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. “Silly boy… Mommy already knew… I just didn’t expect you to confess so boldly… good boy, let Mommy take care of you…”

With that, she slowly shifted, turning to face me. I lay back on the bed, limbs relaxed, feeling her fingers gently wrapped around my still-hard member, stroking it slowly up and down.

“Oh… Mommy… that feels so good… amazing…” I sighed, tilting my head back to stare at the ceiling. This was a pleasure I’d never experienced—tender caresses from the most intimate woman in my life. Sana’s skill was otherworldly; she seemed to instinctively know the perfect pressure and technique to please a man. Soon, my scalp tingled, and the urge to release surged again.

“Wow… my good boy’s cock is so big… so much bigger than Daddy’s… no wonder it feels so good for Mommy…” Sana marveled, quickening her strokes. I couldn’t hold back any longer. “No… Mommy, I can’t take it… I’m gonna cum… let go…” I pleaded desperately, but instead of stopping, Sana tightened her grip at the base of my shaft.

“Don’t be afraid, good boy… let it all out for Mommy… this is your reward…” Sana teased with a low chuckle, her other hand cupping my face, locking eyes with me.

Under her gaze, I couldn’t hold back any longer. With a low growl, I erupted, thick white streams splattering across her stomach and lower abdomen, some even landing on her full breasts.

Exhausted, I collapsed onto her, panting heavily. Sana gently wiped the sweat from my forehead and pressed a soothing kiss to my lips.

“Good job, my sweet boy… now Mommy’s going to reward you properly…” Sana said seductively, leaning down to kiss me deeply once more…

I eagerly returned Sana’s deep kiss, my hands roaming over her smooth body. Like two ravenous beasts, we devoured each other, chasing even more intense pleasure. Soon, I felt a familiar ache stirring below, and Sana noticed it too.

“Ah… my little guy’s hard again… how should Mommy punish you this time…” Sana whispered in my ear, her fingers teasingly brushing over my sensitive shaft.

I shivered, my softened member instantly hardening again. “Mommy… let me…” I stammered, unable to form words, only nodding urgently.

Sana chuckled softly, flipping over to straddle me. “Well then… Mommy’s going to teach you this position… ready for another round of punishment?”

With that, she guided my swollen length to her already drenched entrance, slowly sinking down. I could feel every tight, layered fold of her inner walls, like countless little mouths greedily sucking and biting at the source of my desire.

“Oh… God… Mommy, you’re so tight… you’re gonna break me…” I groaned in ecstasy, gripping her hips to guide her up and down.

“Shh… don’t rush, good boy… Mommy will let you feel even more…” Sana rocked back and forth, her full, snowy breasts bouncing enticingly before my eyes. Her expression grew wild and debauched, her moans dripping with lust…

In that moment, we surrendered completely to our craving for each other’s bodies. I clutched her waist, thrusting upward frantically, while she twisted her hips desperately to meet my impacts… This utterly depraved act transformed into a pure, sensory revelry between us…

“Mommy… I… I can’t take it anymore… you’re too much…” I gasped out to Sana, my breath ragged, watching her breasts bounce and sway with her movements. My sanity was on the verge of collapse.

Sana let out a soft laugh, leaning down to kiss the corner of my mouth. “Silly boy… this is your reward… Mommy will make sure you feel the ultimate pleasure… just let go and enjoy…”

With that, she intensified her movements, bouncing faster and harder, the soul-melting pleasure driving me to the edge of madness. My reason crumbled under the overwhelming ecstasy, leaving only raw desire to guide my actions.

“Ahh… I’m there… Mommy, I’m gonna cum inside…” I shouted, my body shuddering as a scorching flood surged out, filling Sana completely.

At that same moment, Sana reached her climax, her inner walls clamping tightly around me, locking my desire in place. A warm gush spilled onto my abdomen… she had hit her peak too.

I collapsed onto the bed, panting heavily, unable to calm down for a long while. Sana lay on top of me, one hand gently caressing my face. “My good boy… you made Mommy feel the greatest pleasure… you’re truly the best gift heaven could give me…”

I gave a faint smile, lifting my arms to wrap around her back, holding her tightly. In that moment, I felt an unprecedented sense of belonging—the unconditional acceptance and indulgence only a mother could give…

Gazing at the throbbing, veined length before her, Sana felt a strange sense of satisfaction stir within. Its size far surpassed her husband’s, delivering unmatched pleasure and thrill. Yet, a wave of guilt and shame gnawed at her. If only this could be real…

Her thoughts drifted to the son she’d sworn to protect, a pang of remorse rising. Had it not been for shielding him from bullies, would she have fallen this far? To engage in such sordid acts with a boy young enough to be her son—she could hardly absolve herself. But… what if he truly were her child? Would she feel even more elated?

Sana stared at the boy before her, his eyes glistening, his expression dazed. The conflict in her heart intensified. If he were her son, how perfect it would be�� she could love and cherish him openly, giving him everything he desired without this secretive caution.

But reality was reality. The thought brought a bitter mix of emotions. Was she too selfish, too reckless, exploiting his naive innocence? Yet, undeniably, she’d developed feelings for him. Was it the loneliness of her solitary life? Or had his presence filled a void she’d long ignored?

Her mind swirled, unable to untangle the mess. With a sigh, she decided to let things be for now, to stop wrestling with these complexities. She never truly had him, so why torment herself? For now, she’d focus on soothing his emotions, sparing this innocent boy any harm. As for the future, she’d leave it to time to resolve.

“What’s wrong… what’s Mommy thinking about…” I noticed Sana’s shift in mood, a flicker of panic rising in me. I grabbed her wrist tightly, desperate to hold her attention, terrified she might slip away.

Sana shook her head, forcing a calm smile, and leaned in to give me a gentle kiss to soothe my nerves. “It’s nothing, baby… Mommy just got lost in some thoughts… let’s just focus on enjoying this moment…”

With that, she lowered herself again, her tongue gliding over my still-erect shaft, swallowing every trace of herself. My body trembled under her ministrations, the warm, slick sensation driving me wild with excitement. I lifted my hips to give her better access, my hands caressing her hair and breasts to encourage her.

“Mmm… you’re so delicious, baby… Mommy can’t bear to let you go…” Sana murmured, leaving a trail of glistening marks across my skin. Her tongue teased my tip, swirled around my length, and even lavished attention on my balls, savoring every inch.

Her expert technique quickly brought me to the edge again, and I grabbed her arm, signaling her to stop. Sana understood instantly, lifting her head with a sweet, knowing smile.

“My good boy’s holding back so well… how about you please Mommy this time…” Her eyes gleamed with seduction as she slowly parted her thighs, her bare, intimate core fully exposed before me, igniting an even fiercer desire within…

“Mommy… let me serve you… I want to bring you ultimate pleasure… please be mine alone…” I pleaded, gazing at Sana, whispering in her ear as I thrust deeply into her.

Sana let out a soft hum, her eyes half-closed, savoring my fervent efforts. “Such a good boy… Mommy’s so pleased with your thoughtfulness… mmm… deeper… yes, just like that…”

I quickened my rhythm, my fingers teasing her sensitive clit while I drove into her with increasing intensity, each thrust pushing my desire to her core. “Ah… Mommy… I’ll do everything to please you… to make you mine forever…”

Sana tilted her head back, her moans filled with intoxication and obsession. “Good boy… Mommy’s so satisfied with you… as long as you stay by my side… I’ll belong to you alone… only to you…”

Her words set my heart ablaze, my movements growing wilder and more fervent. I wanted her to drown in the pleasure I gave her, to fall completely for me, unable to ever leave… So I poured my all into pleasing her, repeating, “I’m your only child,” as if begging for her acknowledgment and belonging.

Soon, Sana reached another peak, her moans growing sweeter and more captivating, her body arching instinctively. I knew she was on the verge of ecstasy, so I quickened my pace, thrusting fiercely dozens of times until, amid her screams, I poured every drop of my searing essence into her…

In that moment, I felt a subtle bond form between us—Sana and I became one, as if truly mother and son. Even if this was just a fleeting, illusory dream, I embraced it fully… because I had found the most important person in my life… a “mother” who belonged only to me…

I collapsed onto Sana, both of us basking in the afterglow of our climax. Her tender hands caressed my back, her voice soft and loving as she whispered, “Mommy’s promise still stands… from now on, I belong only to you… I’ll go home and file for divorce… leave that pathetic, useless husband with his tiny dick… and that cowardly, weak son…”

Her words sent a surge of joy through me, my entire body being wrapped in overwhelming happiness. This wasn’t a dream—Sana had truly decided to be mine! Tears welled up and spilled over as I cupped her face, kissing her deeply.

“Thank you, Mommy… I’m so happy…” I murmured against her lips, trailing kisses down her neck and collarbone.

Sana let out a contented sigh, opening her arms to pull me close. “My good boy… Mommy’s thought it through… instead of wasting my life with a man who has no masculinity, I’d rather keep you by my side and love you forever… I’ll give you all my love… so you’ll never leave me…”

“Yes, Mommy… I’ll never leave you…” I nodded eagerly, my hardening length nudging back into her, gently grinding. “Since you’ve made your decision… how about we start our new life right now…?”

Sana chuckled softly, her hands kneading my erected nipple. “Alright… since Mommy’s made her promise, you have to keep yours too… no other women… just give everything to me, and I’ll be so happy…”

I nodded, beginning a new rhythm. “Of course… from now on, I’m Mommy’s only son… I’ll bring you endless pleasure and surprises… trust me with everything… I’ll cherish you with all my heart…”

“Yes, Mommy… I promise my cock will only ever serve you… from now on, I’ll only reach climax and release for you… no one else matters…” I said, thrusting even harder, desperate to reach my peak faster.

Sana clearly relished my devotion, her tightening walls nearly pushing me over the edge. “Such a good boy… then hurry and cum for Mommy… I want to taste your release…”

She slowed her breathing, her seductive voice teasing me as she swayed her hips to meet my thrusts. It was like pouring fuel on a fire—my mind went blank, completely consumed by her.

“Ahh… Mommy… I’m cumming… I’ll do everything you say…” I pressed into her deepest core, feeling the imminent eruption. Sana tightened around me at just the right moment, delivering the final blow.

With a hoarse roar, I unleashed all my pent-up passion inside her, and she welcomed every drop. The scorching sensation was addictive, and I collapsed onto her, greedily inhaling her scent, unwilling to let go of this woman who belonged to me.

Sana chuckled softly, smoothing my disheveled hair. “So obedient… from now on, this treat is all mine…”

I nodded eagerly, my lips and tongue cleaning her chest. “It’s my honor… I’ll cherish you, Mommy… make you drown in ecstasy every day… because you’re my everything…”

Sana’s eyes glistened with emotion as she caressed my cheek, her voice tender and heartfelt. “Silly boy… you’re my everything too… we’re made for each other… destined to give our lives to one another, inseparable…”

Overwhelmed with emotion, I nodded fervently and kissed her deeply once more…

[acid-ixx]

young, just us?! (again &. again au)

ft. yandere young justice 98 x gn! reader

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

— masterlist !

off-topic, but i've been hyperfixating so much on the young justice (98 vers), that i've been thinking of another timeline where the entire team falls in love with you during one of their trips to the manor. i mean, who wouldn't? they want to know more about your unshakeable, yet warm presence, but they couldn't due to their teammate's indifference towards the first biological child, you.

so someone assertive like cassie slaps some sense into tim drake for his obvious negligence of you whenever you try to talk to him in front of the team, with her harsh tone and squinted glare, just to make it hurt more, that it just leads you finally catching his eyes—

whilst you're unaware of everything happening in the background scene.

cue his interest being piqued regarding you, his obsessive research that spirals into the need to be a constant in your life, and his attempts at bonding with you before it's too late; but with his team of course, because it's now he realizes just how lonely you truly are, with the lack of friends and hobbies only done by yourself, for yourself, in the ghostly manor— whilst all your siblings are out there fighting crime, socializing, with so many adventures that no normal person could comprehend.

tim is familiar with what it's like living in an empty house, before he became robin.

he trusts his teammates, his friends with his life, so it wouldn't be a problem if you were to be acquainted with them; it would be a problem, though, if he soon doesn't quench their thirst to meet with you yet again.

so imagine, one day, you're just out there gardening, humming tunes as always like routine, the next you're being dragged in impulse's arms of all heroes, his hold on you too intimate for a stranger you met once. tim's voice echoes through intangible earphones, lightly threatening the speedster to keep you safe through your fast travel. you're sped from the manor to places unknown, kissed by the air cutting through your body, until you're at their secret cave, surrounded by his teammates, dumbly looking around until a girl rips you away from impulse's arm to hug you tightly.

she acts as a cushion for you to lay your head on, dizzy from the motion enough to make you nearly vomit. but all she does is coo at your swaying head and push her palm on your nape to have you stabilize in hold.

"you okay, sweetie? i swear, if bart got you sick, i'm going to punch him so hard right now."

you're quite unsure how to reply, mind too numb to register the speedster voicing his complaints, or the disgruntled sigh from your brother who shakes his head, commenting under his breath about "keeping affection to a low, for now."

you've never been held this tightly for years, but she beats you through your disoriented tears right after a moment's beat. through your speechless squeaks, she offers you a soft and warm, "welcome, buddy!" her blonde hair glimmers under the light compared to yours.

she calls herself arrowette, suzanne king-jones her personal identity, but insists just as quickly that you call her cissie with your sweet little voice, you nod hazily. everything's happening at a hasty pace that you couldn't even question why nobody's batting an eye at the identity reveal to a civilian, a stranger that is you.

but just as quickly as she introduces herself, your attention is dragged to an all-too familiar, handsome face, his infamous sunglasses resting on his nose, piercings on his eyebrows, and raven sidepart as he shakes your hands and blows you a kiss. a batarang slices through the air and nearly misses his head, you could tell your brother's seething by now.

it doesn't take much for everyone else to introduce themselves after the awkward tension from superboy telling you to call him "baby".

but your mind is still spinning either way, from the daze of impulse's speed, or all the names being thrown into your head, while they all repeatedly shower you with compliments that has you reeling from the foreign domain of affection you've stepped foot on.

just like that, the team takes advantage of your timidness, your eyes plastered on the ground as your face flushes with blazing heat, fighting each other with verbal insults whilst praising themselves in front of you in a battle to assert who's better. it's tim taking your arms and dragging you off to another room that makes for a perfect distraction, apologizing for the sudden intrusion in your life, and how he's willing to make up for the negligence he's caused you from every since he came to the manor— that these people are going to be your new friends.

he says it all so assertively, like he's done his research and the data he's received are all correct, as if he's sure this is the greatest course of action for your life.

the transition from silence to a room filled with chatters, words all directed to you, rather than from a passing glance, their efforts to communicate with someone inept at socializing yet never giving up... well, you couldn't quite comprehend it yet, but tim could see how your face flushes with warmth and the jitters of your fingers from excitement at the implication of new and better... friends.

the taste of the word feeling so distant yet welcomed, he watches the smile slowly plastered on your face and brings his hesitant palms to pat the crown of your head still turned down, tangling his fingers in each strand to ruffle your hair.

it's totally not a way for him to memorize every detail of your being.

"let's, uh... turn our backs away from the past alright, (name)?" he says with an awkward lilt to his voice. you look up through your lashes, and find his pale face incredulously red while his eyes dart around the room. suddenly, you don't feel so trapped right now, and feel yourself giggling at his unsure words and stooping posture.

he panics and gulps, scratching the back of his neck. his eyes still refuse to stare straight at yours.

"— shit, sorry, 'm still not used to this comforting jig, but i'm serious about all this, about making it up to you while it's still early. so, uhm, i hope my friends aren't too... overwhelming for you. they're too excited, that's it."

it's finally at the end of his sentence that his eyes crinkle at the sight of you. you're still standing awkwardly, hesitant to open up yet still willing to make an effort if what he's saying is true.

there's still a shadow of doubt in your head, that this was all a dream, but everything feels so real. his touch feels so real.

it takes a split second for you to reply, still taking in the events that happened to you.

"it's... alright, maybe i'll learn to... forgive you, tim." your whisper sliced through the silent air, breathless, fiddling with your fingers, stepping closer to your brother. he hesitates, but brings his hands to rest on both sides of your shoulder.

his palms eventually made their way to hover on your face, you don't flinch, but you don't bring them closer to you either. it's an air of neutral comfort you're threading on.

"i'm... real grateful that you're willing to put up an effort for me..." it's as if you couldn't fathom that someone so talented, so important as tim drake could notice you and even apologize wholly without excuses. it doesn't take away the years, all the times he turned his back on you, and even mistakenly calling out the wrong name and flat out ignoring you, but if someone like him was willing to try— to even go as far as to have his friends become your friends.

well... who's to say you could deny the slight flutter in your chest at the sweet gestures?

it was you who initiated the hug, burying your head in his slumped shoulders, tears dampening his costume. your brother pats your back, and awkwardly cradles your body in the silent expanse of the room.

you don't feel the haste of his heartbeats, nor the goosebumps pervading his skin.

"thank you..." you mutter, relinquishing the fear that this was all a sick prank your mind has put you through, and embrace the sounds of the door suddenly slamming while your head still rests on the crook of your brother's neck, giggling through tears from bart's high-pitched squeals, the ghostly sounds of greta's overdramatic gasps and cassie's complaints of tim taking all your attention for himself.

from there on out, your presence kind of becomes a staple for the chaotic atmosphere of the team, a voice of reason whenever tim or cassie is too unhinged to deal with the others, they always kept their arguments light for the sake of your happiness. they like to treat you, finding your praises for each individual refreshing and sweet. you're unaware of just how much they truly loved you from the moment their eyes laid on the shadows of your form in the manor.

and you'd rather it stay that way, too invested in the never flitting feeling of being loved.

there's a saying, ignorance is bliss. you're in a state of happiness because this was the first time you had spent your time with someone you could call your brother. you had friends, welcoming from the start, unafraid to display their affection for you. hugs, cuddle piles, pats on your head, kisses on your cheeks, a target for kon's adorable flirting, bart's endless mumblings, even sitting beside your brother is enjoyable as he sifts through the big monitors in front of you, because at least now there's a hand you could fiddle with every time you become too bored.

how could you want to leave them after all this?

at least, in this timeline, you've willingly stepped into your own cage.

a/n: i'm this 🤏 close to disappearing off of tumblr for a year or two again because of my writer's block despite me posting more and more lately. the lack of motivation to write, and forcing yourself to write out the ideas you have in your head bec you're afraid of forgetting is such a shitty feeling. i'm on the verge of a hiatus, my imposter syndrome is at an all time high and i feel as if my writing has been lacking lately. so apologies, i might just quit if i can't get rid of this feeling. otherwise, i think we need more young justice (not the tv show) content, they're like my favorite hero team. i don't know what to feel about this drabble.

[hitomisuzuya]

husband scara breeding his favourite darling wife because he can't get enough of the thought of having another child with her

husband scaramouche x fem!reader. smut. breeding kink. creampie. loving praise an encouragement for scara.

let's face it, the breeding kink on scara would be absolutely colossal.

scaramouche can barely contain himself above you, his cock rubbing between the folds of your wet cunt, his hands squeezing both of your hands pinned next to your head. he groans feeling how easily his cock slides against your creamy pussy, hearing the most intoxicating moans rising in your throat as his cock rubs over your clit.

his daughter, your daughter and his(he never gets over how good that sounds) is spending a long three day weekend with grandma nahida. he has one sole purpose.

to fuck another baby inside of you. his cock is aching with the need. he is oh so pent up. having a little one around doesn't offer as many opportunities for him to bury his cock to the hilt inside of you as he would like.

"listen to you, all wet and needy for me," scaramouche chuckles shakily, leaning his head down to press a kiss on your lips. "tell me wife, what do you want?" his cock pulses in anticipation for your words.

your walls are clutching around nothing, the delicious throbbing in your clit making you tremble. "you, i want you," you kiss him again, your lips just as needy on his. pulling away, you kitten lick his lips submissively, rocking your hips up to grind your pussy on his cock. "i want my husband to cum inside of me."

"fuck, i love you so fucking much," scaramouche moans, slowly pushing the tip of his cock inside your drooling hole. "you want me to fuck you full?" stretching you apart, he bottoms out. his head is utterly dizzy with love.

he slowly pumps his cock inside you, trembling from how tight your pussy feels sucking him in. "my pliable, pretty wife," he increased his pace, dead ass believing the harder he fucks his cock inside you, the fuller he can fill you to the brim.

"yes! please, fuck me, scara!" you cry out, breathless from how deep his cock head is bullying into your sweet spot. "let me give you another child! with your soft hair and your unmatched wit!" you arch your back off the bed, trying to buck your hips to meet his thrusts.

scaramouche watches with satisfaction as your tits bounce with every thrust before he kisses you again. he moans into your mouth as you obediently open it for his tongue. he squeezes your hands again as you writhe underneath him. "it's okay, it's okay. i'll take care of you," he soothes, pulling away for a moment to drink in your fucked out expression. his lips are back on yours seconds later.

you feel your cheeks heat as the sounds of his cock squelching loudly in and out of your pussy fill the room. you let him wrestle your tongue into tongue into submission, curling and gliding it around his. you suddenly tear your mouth from his as he nudges his cock extra deep into your sweet spot.

"scara! scara! make me cum, please!" you cry out, tears of desperation welling into your eyes. you kiss him again to convey further need, your orgasm is building up so tight.

his teeth nip at your lips. "then cum, wifey," he encourages, nuzzling his cheek lovingly against yours, "cum all over my cock while i fill you," your walls squeezing around his cock while he cums is something he desperately needs. the spasming of your walls would help take his cum deeper inside you.

that was you needed to hear. a few more thrusts with dead on accuracy into your sweet spot pulls your orgasm right out of you. your lewd moans of pleasure as your pussy gushes on his cock, the way you shake in bliss as you cum is endearing to him.

it tells him he has done a very thorough job.

letting go of your hands, scaramouche grips your hips, fucking you onto his cock as cum ribbons thick inside of you. "one more," he moans, pulling out half way to stuff himself back inside, "i need to fill my wife fuller."

there still are two more days in the weekend. his desire to see his cum seeping from your hole only grows stronger.

[a-lurking-fae]

◇ SYNOPSIS ¡ — in which a girl is born, only to live in conplete and utter tragedy.

◇ WORD COUNT ¡ — 1.4K

◇ SERIES ¡ — BATFAM X FONTAINE! NEGLECTED READER

The sounds of a baby's wails plague the halls of the Wayne Manor, Richard Grayson— the adopted son of Bruce Wayne, who watches on his father's misery. His mother, well, adopted mother, has just passed away from childbirth. Her child (Name) is being held by their most trusted butler, Alfred.

Bruce holds his wife's hands as if it was his only lifeline, his screams of anguish mirror the infant’s cry for their mother. The night is filled with horrible memories, forever to be remembered.

────୨ৎ────

(Name) walks the halls quickly and quietly, afraid of the monsters that may take her if she is not careful. She opens the door to Jason's room. He was recently adopted by Bruce and was a delight to be with. Jason was her only refuge for warmth in this cold manor, although she was not oblivious to their… nightly activities.

She smiles at her brother, who just came from a mission, holding a book in her hand. “Hey bub! Do you want me to read you that one tonight?” Jason beams at you. A cute little sister to see him after he gets home? YES.

Jason lifts you to his bed, setting you near the wall to make sure you don't fall. He picks the book up and starts reading. After lulling you to sleep, Jason kisses your forehead, wishing you sweet dreams.

Jason is dead. That is what you can think about. Your father held a funeral for him to honour his memory. You hold onto his stuff. Sometimes, you sneak in his bed and sleep in it. The remnants of him were preserved in that room. You wished he could have seen you sing the songs dedicated to him on stage.

Tim came into the picture. He saw you as a weakness in the family. You could easily be kidnapped, an innocent civilian never meant to be here. But he cared for you in his own ways, how could he not? You were a bit younger than him, a cute little thing with doe eyes and chubby cheeks.

He maintained his distance, making sure not to get attached. He never really knew how to handle things like family after all. Barbara came to the manor sometimes, although you both never really had much interaction. Damian came into the picture. He was cute but a demonic thing nonetheless.

Cassandra, Stephanie, and Duke came to the family, with them being Orphan, Spoiler, and Signal. You were pretty jealous of Cass. She always seemed so… loved. You truly wanted to bond with them all.

They always spend time with each other, and heck, Dick sometimes came to the manor to spend time with Damian! He had time for everyone except you. Jason? He's avoiding you like the plague! You don't really understand why though, did you do something you weren't aware of? Tim, the boy barely interacted with you!

Damian? Nope. Barbara? Too busy for you, apparently. Cassandra? She's a bit scary, but she's fine. Stephanie? Also too busy! Your own biological father (who should definitely just be called sperm donor), ignored the fuck out of you.

You went to the beach to let out some stream. After all, can tears be seen and shed underwater? You swim to the far sea, the waves soon taking you deep. You try to reach the surface, but you can't. You breathe and— wait, breathe??

You open your eyes to unfamiliar waters, you see land and quickly swim towards it. Coughing up some water, you see two men, a flying snowball, and a very pretty lady. You feel dizzy, your eyesight is blurry, and… you lose consciousness!

You wake up, lain in soft silk sheets that definitely beat yours. You look around to see some people surrounding you. “Hello, dear. I am Furina de Fontaine, the Hydro Archon, God of—” She gets cut off by the snowball, “Just get to the point already!” she huffs in the air, kicking in frustration.

“Fine, fine!— Man in blue, My Iudex, Neuvillette. Man in black? The Duke, Wriothesly. Blondie, Lumine. Flying pet, Paimon.”

“I am not a pet!—”

Ms. Lumine— you believe, covers her mouth and takes her away with Mr. Wriothesly behind them. “Right, back to the topic, do you know this person, little one?” Mr. Iudex points to a painting, and you froze.

The painting looks hauntingly like the woman plastered on the walls of the manor— “Mom…” they both look shocked at your response, nodding at each other. “I am your grandmother, my dear. He is your grandfather. Do you think you could tell us what happened?”

“I… She's dead. She passed away after giving birth to me.” You look away. They're sure to hate you, too. Furina embraces you tightly, tears roll down her cheeks. The loss of a child is never light. Neuvillette pats her back, and you hear a light drizzle outside. It quickly becomes a turbulent storm, as Iudex weeps as well. The three of you embrace each other, unwilling to let go.

You eventually figured out how to get between the two worlds with your mother's diary. It was kept by Iudex, and not an inch of dust has reached its pages. You read about her adventures, how she ended up in Gotham, and how she decided to leave Fontaine.

“Your mother was a cheerful person. You certainly took after her the most. ”Neuvillettes's eyes softened at you. “My dear, do you truly have to return to that place? You could simply stay here—” Furina looks at you, you were an adventurer, she never really had the ability to keep you down. After all, she knew what that felt like.

“Nana, I like to explore, a trait from my mother. I have two vast worlds that allow me to see magical places. Who am I to refuse such sights?” You stuff your mouth with cake, it was your favourite flavor.

“The abyssal corrosion is taking me slowly, I believe I have enough time to explore more. That is my wish, nana.”

You smile at them, their expressions are unreadable. Neuvillette clenches his teacup, nodding at you. “If that is what you desire, then so be it my dear.” Tea time soon ends, and you return to Gotham.

You lay in your bed. ‘One last chance, then I'll stay in Fontaine forever.’ You think your performance was coming up soon. If they didn't come, then that is it.

The next few weeks were certainly nerve-wracking. On the day of the show, you get up on the stage, and do your absolute best. You sang your heart out like never before, people shed tears during your performance. They were nowhere to be seen. You should have expected this.

“Great job, (name)!” A stage designer came up to you, handing you some gifts from the crowd. You adorned a smile, pearls on your neck lit up at the lights. There are so many praises from people you don't know, yet not a single family came.

You return to the manor, quickly writing a letter to Alfred. You knew it couldn't be helped. You make your way to the beach, Alfred came home right when you left.

The letter sat on his desk, opening it shook him.

Dear Alfred,

It has truly been a delight to be with you. It is hard to simply leave you, so I leave you this letter. I hope that you may find your peace in this manor, thank you for all these years.

Truly yours,

– (Name) de Fontaine.

Alfred quickly went to the batcave, calling everyone on patrol. He accessed every camera nearby, trying to find you. Were you trying to kill yourself?

“Alfred?” Dick spoke first. The rest listened. “Ms. (Name) might be trying to kill herself, I'll try to find her.

Bruce is shook. What parent wouldn't be after hearing that. He doesn't know where to start looking, so he and Damian search the places your mother would go to.

Alfred finally finds you heading to the beach. You loved that place. “She's at xx-road, heading to xx-beach.” They all rush to the coordinates, hoping they weren't too late—

There you were, in a white dress, you could get sick in that! “Goodbye.” You start to turn to foam. They rush towards you, but they are too late. Your shawl floats to Bruce. He grabs it, trying to find a semblance of you. They'll find you soon, just wait for a bit.

You return to Fontaine, going to Palais Mermonia, munching on some pasta Furina made, as they both work.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────

NOTE : Whew, so that was chapter 1! I'm loving the gradient hehehehe. (If I learn more I will become unstoppable)

[deadghosy]

Okay, I saw the part in the noob!reader post about Kirby. I love Kirby and would love a Kirby!reader in hazbin hotel. Like how he is cute but can consume worlds and everyone is just like *pikachu shocked face*, same with him being able to pull out random weapons from his abilities. I can imagine he got there from a new weird portal and meta knight is like “where is he NOW?”.

Kirby is a being of chaos and I love him ❤️

I ALSO LOVE KIRBBY I WAS A BIG KIRBY KIN💗💗 🦆

HAZBIN HOTEL X KIRBY! READER

prompt: you lost the sight of your best friend only to be somewhere completely different.

Meta knight was walking ahead of you as you picked up flowers with your cute smile. “Poyo!” You said smiling ready to show meta knight your flowers you picked up into a bouquet. 

When all of a sudden, you were getting pulled into a red portal as you screamed out to meta knight who seemed to be in his own world.

“POYO! POYO!” You then get sucked in as meta knight turns to see nothing. “Reader/Kirby?…..where is he NOW!” Meta knight exclaims, his accent thickening in worry as he runs around the area calling out your name.

Meta was basically that Brandon rogers meme when he lost his “child” 😭

You swirl in the portal to get thrown out and roll into the feet of a person. “Oh my! Are you okay sweetie?” The sweet voice says as she picks you up. Charlie looked worry seeing you dizzy. “Poyoo..” you said with a dazed out look from your trip of the portal.

Charlie took you in her hotel, getting you water and suited to rest as vaggie checks up. After 24 hours, they kept you as you became part of the hotel staff.

I headcannon you once accidentally swallowed Angel because you saw him as a regular spider. You literally transformed into his color palette before Charlie made you cough him up.

Angel was so traumatized 😭

I imagine you literally almost ending hell’s population by yourself cause you were hungry..you dead ass ran through the streets eating random shit. Thank goodness Lucifer picked you up and ran.

You once walked into Lucifer brain storming and he saw you…he immediately had a new idea for his duck creation. He made you stay in his room until Charlie said it was your bed time.

Vaggie always keep tabs on you so you don’t cause trouble around the pride ring and the hotel.

IMAGINE HOW YOU LITERALLY ATE A BUILDING…A FUCKING BUILDING AND HUSK WHO TOOK YOU FOR A ERRAND STROLL WAS LIKE

The egg boiz

Nahh cause you definitely had swallowed up the egg boiz to have a egg shell around you to hide in the egg shell like an ability.

Sir Pentious is always scared of the fact of you just eating him. But you don’t cause you literally get fed chips by the bar. So Pentious calms down and lets you have some time with him

Lucifer would probably make you inhale one of his rubber ducks so you can have a duck beak and wings just so he can chase you around with heart eyes excited that his hyperfixation became real

You have a duck hat and a duck pj set. ALSO WITH AN APPLE THEME SET WHICH IS FAMOUS IN MORNINGSTAR FAMILY ❤️❤️

I can see you always following Alastor like the egg boiz did in “scrambled eggs” ��� except you just waddle beside him cutely

“Poyoooo… poyoooo..” you said softly as you tug on Alastor’s pant leg. Alastor looks down slightly entertained by your language and gesture for him to look at you.

“Well aren’t you an eager little thing…” alastor says picking you up and taking you to show Rosie his new found friend.

Husk once

STOP IT CAUSE WHAT IF YOU INHALED A KNIFE AND EQUIPPED IT ONLY YOU BE THAT FUCKIN MEME WITH KIRBY HOLDING A KNIFE😭😭

YOU WOULD STAB SOMEONE’S TOES AND KNEES YOU ABSOLUTE MENACE!!‼️

You definitely stood outside of the Vee’s tower holding the knife with a smile as Valentino looks so scared closing his curtains.

#justiceforangeldust

Angel dust loves you to the point he might adopt you as a sibling since you are pink like him.

Charlie and vaggie are the parents who maintain what you eat and sleep. Dead as you were gonna eat a butterfly when vaggie picked you up like “NOPE! NOT TODAY!” And took you inside for the rest of the time-

See I can personally just imagine that Kirby gif where Kirby eats the whole ass meal on the table. So imagine the crew’s face seeing you do that shit 😭

I can see you getting on fat nuggets and just start to ride fat nuggets like a cowboy 😭💗

Angel definitely recorded it as you just smile while fat nuggets runs around the hotel freely.

I headcannon you bought a bunch a flowers for the crew and the was so adorable how you just picked each flower matching the cast’s colors

Imagine you just watching a hell cartoon and Vox is like “kill them! Kill your entire family” as you jolted shocked and cry at the scary tv man

Niffty once fed you dust particles thinking it wouldn’t affect you…it did cause you coughed and got sick. Niffty cried, not thinking it would harm you as she sniffles giving you soup in your room.

Niffty was banned from making lunch for you😭

Alastor be trying to troll you into eating cannibal meat, like dead ass he would make you a sandwich with “turkey” meat. But you could already smell THE MUSSTTT 🤮

So he failed with that mission. But at least you like his radio station and his jazz music.

Charlie brought you to her meeting with the first man so she can feel comfortable as you are kinda like her service animal.

Adam actually would like you cause you love to eat endlessly and you are pick up size. This mf will literally pick you up with one hand and dribble you like a basketball or treat you like a damn football💀

“Hey lute! Go long!” “Yes sir!” Lute replies back as she moves back far. Adam launches you making you scream as lute flies up and catches you.

“GOALLLL! FUCK YEAH!” Lute says accidentally throwing you off of the cloud floor they were on. “LUTE WTF?!” Adam yells looking at you fall before a portal had eaten you up. “Well damnit…I was gonna miss that lil pink shit.” Adam says before walking away with lute close behind him

Meta knight is back at home was tweaking out as he literally sobs eating with a picture of you on the table. He misses you deeply as he stares at the photo before looking down. “My friennnd…” he says with a sniffle as he covers his face.

Good ending was that you plopped down on the table from the portal as meta immediately hugs you as you smiled happily, showing him the flowers. You guys ate dinner happily!

[idkyetxoxo]

Twelve | A Soft Return | Little Star

Pairing - Azriel x reader

Word count - 2.7k

Warnings - None

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Velaris shimmered beneath me like a dream painted in starlight.

The wind whipped effortlessly through my hair as Cassian cut through the clouds, wings slicing the sky with that effortless power only he possessed. I clung to him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck, the warmth of his body a steady comfort against the biting altitude.

"So, are you still not going to tell me what we're doing?" Cassian asked, his voice half-lost in the rush of wind, but the smile in his tone was unmistakable.

I grinned against his shoulder. "Cass, do you not want to fly me around?" 

He didn't answer, only laughed, low, reckless and achingly familiar. The sound vibrated through his chest just before he dipped suddenly, wings snapping shut for one wild moment before flaring open again, sending us spiralling in a dizzying loop.

My stomach lurched. "Cass!" I shrieked, though I was laughing too, breathless and exhilarated. 

If I hadn't grown used to his death wish flying over the years, I'd have lost my breakfast halfway through the descent.

We eventually landed in a quiet corner of Velaris. The city unfolded around us in golden tones, the late morning sun catching on rooftops and the glint of glass storefronts. Music drifted from somewhere nearby, faint and bright.

Cassian touched down like it was nothing, graceful in a way that still irritated me sometimes. 

I smacked his chest lightly, more amused than annoyed, before fussing with my hair, which the wind had enthusiastically tried to tear free.

"You already know I love flying you around," he said, giving me his wide, boyish signature grin. "I just meant—" he hesitated, his smile faltering. "It's been years."

There was a quiet weight in those words, one I couldn't deflect. His eyes softened, full of things unsaid. And I knew—I knew that I was the reason for that distance. For the time lost.

I reached for his hand anyway and he took it without hesitation.

We slowly drifted into the heart of Velaris with our fingers loosely intertwined, the silence between us no longer sharp, but soft. Comfortable, almost. Like an old song playing low in the background.

The city pulsed with life. 

Artisans called out from colourful stalls, hawking hand-stitched cloaks and glass-blown jewellery that caught the sun like captured stars. 

Street musicians played on corners, their notes curling into the air with effortless magic. 

The scent of roasting chestnuts mingled with sugar and citrus from a nearby vendor and I didn't even realise how hungry I was until my stomach growled loud enough for Cassian to raise a smug brow.

"You need feeding before you turn feral," he teased, already veering toward the food stalls without waiting for me.

"You act like I'm the dangerous one," I muttered but followed after him anyways.

We ate far too many flaky pastries filled with sweet cream and spiced meat skewers that dripped juice down our fingers. 

Cassian somehow got powdered sugar on his nose, which he denied, of course, until I reached up and smudged it further just to be petty. He retaliated by smearing a dab of jam on my cheek. 

Childish, ridiculous and perfect. Like we had fallen into some old rhythm we'd forgotten we knew.

We browsed lazily through shops.

And then just as we turned onto one of the narrower stone streets that opened toward a fountain—I saw him.

Azriel.

He was walking alone, hands in the pockets of his dark coat, his shadows faint but still clinging like an afterthought. His expression was unreadable, as always, focused, distant, a ghost threading through the waking world. He hadn't seen us.

I slowed instinctively, tugging Cassian to a stop.

A child darted from the crowd, too fast and small for her mother to catch in time. She collided with Azriel's legs and stumbled back with a squeak of surprise.

Cassian made a noise beside me, something half-worried, half-amused but I couldn't take my eyes off what happened next.

Azriel bent down immediately, not with impatience or irritation, but with gentle precision. 

His shadows curled protectively around the girl as he knelt to her level. He said something, too soft for us to hear but whatever it was made her smile. He brushed a stray curl from her face, then handed her the doll she'd dropped in the collision. 

The tiniest shift crossed his face as he watched her. A smile, barely there but definitely real.

The girl beamed and threw her arms around him in that fearless way children do with those they instinctively trust. 

Azriel didn't pull away. He held her for a moment—just long enough and then stood as her mother arrived, breathless and apologising profusely when she recognised him.

He waved it off with a nod, already turning away and disappearing back into the crowd like shadow melting into shadow.

I didn't realise I'd stopped breathing until Cassian squeezed my hand gently.

"He still loves you, you know."

Cassian's words were gentle, not accusing but they landed like a stone in my chest. I turned slowly to look at him, surprised he'd said it so plainly.

"I know," I said quietly after a pause that felt like it spanned years. My voice sounded far away even to me lost somewhere between guilt and longing.

Cassian didn't press, didn't judge. He just waited, watching the place where Azriel had vanished into the crowd.

"I just don't get it," he finally said, glancing back at me. "He's not perfect, gods know—but he's... he's worth it. And I think you know that too."

My jaw tensed. I looked away, blinking at the way the sunlight spilt across the cobblestones like molten gold. "It's not him I'm worried about."

Cassian turned his head slowly, brows furrowing in that way he did when trying to piece something together without all the information.

A silence fell between us, thick with all the things I didn't want to say. All the things I couldn't say. 

He exhaled a quiet huff, breaking the stillness. I raised a brow at him.

"What?"

He rolled his eyes skyward, then glanced at me with reluctant amusement. "Rhys is calling me. Probably needs me for something boring and High Lord-y."

I smirked. "Aww, poor baby. Trapped in meetings instead of gallivanting around Velaris with me."

"Don't remind me." He grinned, but there was fondness in his eyes as he gave me a once-over. "You going to be okay?"

I gave him a mock-scandalised look. "Believe it or not, Cass, I'm a big girl. I can manage walking through a city without adult supervision."

He snorted. "Debatable."

Then, with a soft laugh, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to my cheek, warm, brotherly and familiar. "Try not to get into trouble."

"No promises."

He spread his wings with that signature flare of showmanship and, after one last glance, launched into the sky in a burst of wind and light. 

I watched him go, shielding my eyes as his silhouette faded into the sun-drenched clouds.

And then I was alone. Standing in the street where Azriel had been just minutes before, my heart still echoing with everything unsaid.

I stood still for a moment, letting the sounds of Velaris wrap around me like a warm blanket—laughter, music, the rhythm of footsteps on stone. 

The scent of fresh bread and blooming flowers drifted in on the breeze. It felt strange, walking alone after so long. But not bad. Just... different.

I wandered around with no real destination, letting the winding streets guide me.

The city shimmered in the sun, the domed rooftops and curved balconies painted in soft pastels and accented with gold leaf and flowering vines. 

Children ran barefoot through the fountains, vendors laughed with customers, and it struck me again, this place was a living, breathing piece of art. And I was part of it. Still.

"Excuse me?" a small voice called.

I turned and found a young child, a girl no taller than my hip standing in front of a stall draped with colourful ribbons and tiny glass vials. Her brown hair was woven into a crown braid dotted with wildflowers, her cheeks flushed with the kind of joy only Velaris seemed to cultivate.

She was holding a single rose in her hand, deep red, with soft velvet petals that caught the sun like it had been dipped in light.

"I know who you are," she said proudly, eyes wide in amazement. "You're the High Lord's sister. Mama says you help keep the city safe."

I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden wave of emotion swelling in my throat. "That's very kind of your mama."

She held out the rose to me. "I'm selling these today but you don't have to pay. This one's your's for free!"

My heart cracked a little at the gesture. Something so simple, so genuine.

"Well, that's very generous of you," I said, smiling gently. "But I insist on paying. A flower this pretty is worth at least a silver."

She hesitated but I pressed the coin into her palm anyways closing her fingers around it.

Then, instead of handing me the rose, she motioned for me to bend down.

As I knelt she stepped closer, lifting the rose with careful hands. She tucked it gently behind my ear, her fingers light against my temple.

"There," she said, beaming. "Now you look like a painting."

I couldn't help the soft laugh that escaped me. "Thank you," I whispered, genuinely touched. "You've made my whole day."

She paused then, eyes catching on the chain around my neck. "That's a pretty necklace," she added, curious in the way only children could be.

I reached up instinctively, fingers brushing the charm. A slow warmth blooming in my chest.

"Thank you," I said softly. "Someone... special got it for me."

She grinned, satisfied with the answer, then curtsied and skipped off to her stall, already calling out to the next passerby with a merchant's charm and a child's brightness.

I stayed there for a moment, still kneeling, smiling in that fragile, stunned way you do when someone reminds you without even meaning to that you still matter.

Unbeknownst to me, across the street, tucked into the shadows of a narrow archway, Azriel watched.

He'd seen the whole thing.

The way I'd lit up, soft and unguarded, the way the child had gravitated toward me without fear or hesitation. The rose behind my ear. The laughter that lingered like music in the air.

And for a moment, just a moment, Azriel let himself feel it. That slow, aching wonder.

The sight of her—of me shining again.

He didn't move, didn't reveal himself. Just lingered in the quiet shade, watching the girl he loved come back to life, petal by petal.

Later that night the house was silent, save for the occasional whisper of the wind against the windows. The kind of stillness that only came deep into the night, when even the stars seemed to be holding their breath.

Everyone was asleep.

I padded barefoot into the kitchen, the stone floors cool beneath my feet. I hadn't meant to end up here, it was just one of those restless, half-lost nights when the need for... something pulled at me too insistently to ignore.

I glanced around. 

The kitchen was bathed in the soft glow of a single faelight, the long wooden counters dusted with flour and a few stray crumbs from dinner hours ago. The air smelled faintly of cinnamon and vanilla from whoever had last passed through.

Before I could second-guess myself, I found the old recipe tucked into the back of my mind—chocolate cake.

The last thing I had attempted to bake alone had been cookies. Charred, blackened, unsalvageable cookies.

Tonight, I wanted to try again.

I gathered the ingredients slowly, savouring the motions. Melting chocolate and butter together, stirring in sugar, eggs, flour. 

I lost myself in the rhythm, the way the scent grew richer with every turn of the spoon, the way the batter clung thickly before sliding into the battered old cake tin.

By the time I slid it into the oven, the kitchen smelled like heaven.

I leaned against the counter, arms folded, breathing in the bittersweet air. Something in my chest eased that I hadn't realised was still tight.

The timer dinged a while later, too loud in the sleepy hush of the house.

I grabbed an oven mitt and carefully pulled the cake out. It wasn't perfect—the edges a little lopsided, the top cracked slightly from where I'd opened the oven too soon but it was mine. 

Warm and real.

Without thinking, I sank onto the floor, setting the tray between my crossed legs. The stone was cold against my thighs, but the heat from the cake kept me cocooned in a little pocket of warmth.

I sat there, staring at it, feeling oddly proud and a little foolish when a soft sound at the doorway made me look up.

Azriel stood there, shadows clinging lazily around him, barefoot and rumpled from sleep. His eyes, those endless hazel eyes fixed on me, on the cake, on the tiny, ridiculous scene I'd created.

He didn't say anything. He just crossed the room and, without hesitation, folded himself down onto the floor beside me, mirroring my posture like we were kids again sneaking sweets before dinner.

For a moment, we just sat there. Breathing in the smell of chocolate and something else—something tender that neither of us dared name.

I broke first, tearing a jagged piece from the edge of the cake and popping it into my mouth. It was still too hot, but the rich sweetness melted instantly across my tongue.

Azriel watched, a small, almost shy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

I tore off another piece and, without thinking, offered it to him. He took it from me without hesitation, his fingers brushing mine, warm and calloused.

We ate like that for a while, wordless and easy, pulling pieces straight from the tray, laughing softly when the cake crumbled messily onto our clothes.

"This feels familiar," I said after a while, licking melted chocolate from my thumb. My voice was soft, wrapped in the sleepy haze of the hour.

Azriel gave a quiet, almost shy huff of laughter. "At first you used to burn everything," he said, the corner of his mouth lifting. "Cass would pretend it was the best food ever. Rhys would just..." He shook his head fondly. "Eat it out of guilt."

"And you?" I asked, nudging him with my knee.

Azriel's smile dimmed slightly, his eyes growing distant for half a heartbeat. "I ate it because you made it," he said simply.

The words punched a soft hole through my heart and silence settled between us again, warm and fragile.

After a minute, Azriel's voice broke it, quieter now more hesitant. "I missed this."

There was a vulnerability in it that made me ache. As if he expected the confession to fall into the emptiness between us, unanswered.

But I turned my head, resting my temple lightly against his shoulder, and said just as softly, "I missed it too." 

It felt natural, instinctive, the way it used to be, before everything had gotten so complicated.

I felt his breath hitch. Just slightly.

And then, slowly, he relaxed against me. His head tilted, resting against mine, the two of us folded into each other like a secret the night was kind enough to keep.

Neither of us spoke. We didn't need to.

The kitchen glowed around us, a little island of warmth against the sleeping house.

We sat there on the floor until the cake was half gone and our eyelids began to droop, the stars outside blinking sleepily down at us. 

One of his wings was half-furled around us both, not fully spread but enough to cocoon us in a little pocket of soft, shadowed warmth.

The kitchen was quiet, the air still faintly rich with the scent of chocolate.

It was the creak of a floorboard that stirred the silence the next morning.

Cassian stood in the doorway, blinking blearily into the dim, early morning light. His hair was wild, sticking up in every direction, and he was wearing only a loose pair of pants, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the heel of his hand.

He froze when he saw us.

For a moment, he just stood there, his hand falling away slowly as he took in the sight—me curled against Azriel's side, Azriel's head resting against mine, the remnants of a midnight cake feast between us.

Cassian's mouth twitched. Not into one of his usual grins. No teasing smirk or obnoxious comment about being caught.

Just a soft, quiet smile. A knowing kind of fondness flickering across his face.

He watched us for a second longer, something almost wistful passing through his eyes, then, with a care I didn't know he possessed at that hour, he stepped back.

He eased out of the kitchen without a sound, the door swinging lightly closed behind him. Leaving us exactly as we were.

Undisturbed.

Together.

A/n - Yes Cassian is offering his two cents but at least this time he’s knocking some much-needed sense into reader x

She is finallyyyy letting Az back in, even if it’s just a little. The cake bit is lowkey the beginning of her actually reciprocating his feelings :)

Also... falling asleep together with his wing half-wrapped around her so so cute <33

I’m sad that this is wrapping up soon. I’m lowkey not ready to say goodbye :(

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this part, please let me know your thoughts—I love hearing from you all!

Little Star tag list - @jaybbygrl @writtenbypavani @fall-winter-heart97 @coeurdeveea @lilg101010 @krazykangaroo712 @moonlitlavenders @lil-lupa @jasmineee05 @pinksnowtiger @yourdarkrose @nerdybee123 @bookwormysblog @thoughtfulcoffeeflower @suspicious-stain-in-spain @anainkandpaper @theflowerswillbloom @queenoffeysand @historygeekqueen @lexi-in-wonderland @tele86 @saamanthaag3 @whydohumansss @xlosttdreamss @bookishwondersworld @plants-w0rld @i-am-infinite @ly--canthrope @lreadsstuff @urfunnyvalentin3 @dnfhascorruptedme @lovejbaby

[wildernessuntothemselves]

Now See Them Burn in Fire | Final Part

Genre: dark fic, smut, angst

Word Count: 15.5k

 Chapter Excerpt:

“Fuck, fuck, that feels too good. Stop.” He curses loudly, pulling you off his cock as if he's the one that needs the air. 

The small break is like a damn breaking loose, and you sob as the night air rushes in, feeling like embers raked across your burning throat. 

You cry, your sobs harsh and ugly, tears mingling with the mess of saliva dribbling down your chin and sticking your hair to your face in a disgustingly pathetic display.

“Are you crying for me now, flower?” He asks mockingly, but the look of false concern on his face quickly gets replaced with primal hunger the harder you cry. “I think I'll never tire of this sight. I have always dreamed of you coming back to me–being so sweet and loving and making me forget all that everyone has put me through. But you put me through it too–you hurt me most of all, and seeing you cry on my cock like this feels just as good as your love would feel like. Your tears are so delicious, my flower.”

Warnings: fem!reader, DARK FIC, NONCON/DUBCON, character death, graphic description of human sacrifice, iron age au, supernatural au, yandere beomgyu, dark magic, blood magic, burning as execution (see the fic title lol), blowjob, missionary, PIV sex, corruption, degradation

The world blurs around you—stone, smoke, the glow of torchlight. All you can hear is the pounding of your heart and Beomgyu’s voice echoing in your skull like a curse: Go to him. Save him if you can.

By the time you reach your home, your legs are shaking, your chest is tight, and your vision is swimming with tears and firelight. You burst through the doorway breathless, bracing for the worst—blood, smoke, the empty silence of the dead.  

But Kai is still there. Alive. Pale and sick, but alive.  

He looks at you in worry. “What happened? Are you alright?” He asks, concerned about you, but you don’t answer his question, your mind plagued by a matter more detrimental than your current wellbeing. 

“Kai,” You whisper urgently, your voice barely above a whisper, scared of the answer you’ll get. “Tell me the truth. Was your family behind what happened to his?”

You don’t need to specify who you’re talking about. He already knows, and maybe that was all that you really needed to know.

Kai doesn't answer right away, and that silence—that hesitation—sends a ripple of dread down your spine.  

“I… I’m not sure,” He finally says, carefully, reservedly, building up your dread stone by stone. “I heard things when I was a child, but I don’t remember them clearly.”  

“What things?” You press, and he rubs a hand over his face, as if trying to summon the past memories through the fog of time and willful ignorance. 

“The elder priests used to visit my father in secret. I didn’t understand it at the time. But I remember hearing Beomgyu’s name... His mother and father were very devout. They went to the temple often—seeking help and guidance. The elders would come straight to my father after their visits. I remember them whispering… something about the boy.”  

Your breath catches in your throat.  “What did they say?”  

“My father instructed the priests to tell Beomgyu's parents to be… cautious of him. His mother had trouble carrying. She was sick often. He told the priests to give her something to help with the pregnancy. He said it would make matters easier for her. He told them to warn his family about him—about Beomgyu. That he was dangerous. That he carried something dark in him. That if they didn’t act in time, he would bring ruin to them.”  

You feel the words sink in like venom under your skin.

“They poisoned her,” You say flatly, the realization making you dizzy. “They made her lose her children. And they made them blame Beomgyu for it before he was even old enough to defend himself.”  

Kai shakes his head adamantly. “You don’t know that,” He says, defensive. “They were trying to help her. She was so weak—she nearly died giving birth to him. He barely survived. If it weren’t for my father’s help and those priests’ work, Beomgyu might not have made it either.”  

You meet his gaze, eyes stinging.  “Or they might’ve killed him too.”  

The silence that follows is loud, filled with the buzzing in your ears and the mistrust brewing between you.  Neither of you knows which version of the story is true, but Beomgyu has already made up his mind.  And that belief, whether built on lies or the truth, is the fuel he used to burn everything to the ground.

You suppose you should find comfort in the notion that you aren't the sole reason behind this plague after all. You haven’t brought ruin to Kai’s family. They did that to themselves just as much as you did. And now you're all paying the terrible price. 

Kai reaches forward, trying to hold your hand in his own but you pull away, your fingers curling tightly against your chest.

“Did you ever ask your father about any of it?” You ask, the words trembling on your tongue.

Kai’s eyes drop. “No.”

“Why?” The question hangs between you like smoke. But he doesn’t answer. Instead, he lifts his gaze and the challenge in it surprises you, “Why don’t you ask your elders?”

Because you're afraid. If you never ask, you can keep believing it’s all a lie—some twisted tale spun by Beomgyu to justify his cruelty. Because if you ask—if they confirm what you fear—then there’s no going back, no hiding behind the safety of denial. You’d have to face what they did. What you all allowed. What you might still be a part of. And you’re not sure you’re strong enough for that.

“Did he tell you this?” He asks and you look away, scared of him pulling a thread that would unravel all your lies. 

“He told me things too.” He says quietly and your head whips around in alarm. “He said he got to you before I did.”

You shake your head, bile rising in your throat. “He is lying.” You hiss, tears of anger and guilt burning behind your eyelids.

“Is he?” He asks, and the suspicion in his voice breaks you. “Then how does he know about the burn mark on your left thigh?” 

“That—he doesn’t—” You stumble, scrambling for something—anything—that might explain how he could know something so intimate about you. But no lie comes. Your mind is a storm of grief and guilt, too tangled for reason, too loud to spin deceit. So you cling to the truth—at least, the part of it that might still save you. “I never let him touch me. He knows about the burn because he was there when it happened. We were making a persuasion draught—he dropped the heated spoon and it burned through my dress, caught my thigh and he—”

You falter as you look up, the words dying in your mouth.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You whisper because he is. Kai is looking at you like he doesn’t know you. Like something fragile and precious has cracked between you and he doesn’t know if it can ever be mended.

“You were doing potions together?” He asks, voice quiet but not gentle.

You swallow hard. Every word you speak seems to drag you closer to the flames. “We were just playing around. We were children. I didn’t—”

“You taught him magic.” It’s not a question. It’s an accusation.  

“Only little things. Harmless little spells. Simple rites. Nothing of this magnitude.” You shake your head, desperation bleeding into every word, begging him to believe you. “I can’t even perform magic of this scale. Please—you have to believe me.”

But his expression doesn’t soften. He looks at you as if you’re a stranger—someone he almost recognizes, but cannot trust.

“Did you let him touch you too?” Kai asks, and you shake your head, but the motion shifts your hair from your shoulder, revealing things even worse to him. 

His eyes land on the marks Beomgyu left on your neck and his expression falters.

“Were you with him just now?” His voice rises, and you shake as you witness your beloved's unbridled fury for the first time since you've known him. 

Panic flares in your chest. You've forgotten to cover up your sins. You've forgotten.

“It was just a kiss,” You blurt out, and the hurt that flashes across his face guts you. “Please, you have to believe me—I was only trying to save us. He killed our families, Kai. I was trying to stop him. I thought if I gave him what he wanted—”

His jaw clenches. He turns away for a moment as if he is trying to restrain himself from doing something he might regret.

“I had nothing left,” You whisper pitifully. “And if I could trade my shame for your life, I would do it all again.”

But he’s not listening anymore. Whatever you say, it no longer reaches him. Despite the frailty of his body, he rises—slow but unshaken—death blazing behind his eyes as he makes for the door.

“No—please, please,” You beg, following him, stumbling over your own desperation. “You can’t stand up to him. He’ll kill you. You don’t have the strength—”

Again and again, you say the wrong thing. 

“Is that why you let him fuck you? For me? Because you think your husband not man enough so you have to whore yourself out to protect him?”

You flinch, knowing you've utterly broken him but also knowing you had no other choice but to try to protect him and your child. You had no other choice. You're all doomed. 

“I didn’t—I swear to you, I didn’t—” You reach for him, but he shoves you away, his violence shocking you, his fury lending him strength he should no longer possess, his sickened body rising on nothing but rage and heartbreak. “I’ll prove to him—and to you—that I am not the fool you both take me for.”

And then he’s gone.

You chase after him, heart hammering, the past unraveling behind your eyes—your father choking on his own blood, your mother kicking and screaming as she's dragged away, Kai's father being fed to the flames. Too much has already been lost. You cannot lose him too. But he will not be stopped, and the more you try, the more attention you draw. Doors creak open. Faces peer out, roused from uneasy sleep, watching as you stumble behind your enraged husband through the streets.

And then you’re there—back where it all began. Beomgyu’s house lies before you, dark and looming.

“Come out, Beomgyu. Let’s end this now. Man to man.” Kai stands tall, fists clenched, voice loud enough to wake even the gods.

It doesn't take long for the man, the monster, to emerge. The words hardly leave your husband's mouth before Beomgyu is stepping out, slowly, silently, as if answering a summons he’d long foreseen. His eyes land on Kai—not on you, not on the gathering crowd, only Kai—and a flicker of delight flashes across his face. 

Your fear for your husband multiplies tenfold. Beomgyu has been waiting for this. This is a trap. It’s all been a trap, and you’ve fallen into it like fools. 

Beomgyu’s men move quickly, stepping in to block the path between the two men. You hear the hiss of drawn blades, the excited murmurs of those roused from their beds now watching with wide eyes, eager to witness the latest sacrifice. 

“Fight me, you coward. don’t hide behind your men.” Kai shouts, voice hoarse, the sickness still clinging to him like a death shroud despite his brave display. 

Beomgyu only raises a brow. “Why? So you can try to kill me, just as your father did? Can you truly not stand to see the people rise and demand justice for themselves, so much so that you would slaughter us all just to reclaim your crumbling power?”

“Nobody else,” Kai replies, not caring to refute any of Beomgyu's other claims. After all, a dead man has no use arguing with the angel of death. “Just you.”

A beat of silence.

“So be it. You shall taste the wrath of the gods as your father did before you.” Beomgyu proclaims, his words aiming to get under Kai’s skin, to rattle him more than he already is, to remind him that he stood helpless as Beomgyu sacrificed his father to the flames. He wants to kill his soul before he lets the flames devour his body. “May the gods cast their favour upon the better man.”

A wave of heat flashes across your skin as he throws a glance at you, and you gulp as he lifts a hand and motions for his men to step back.

Your heart seizes up. He’s going to fight him. He's going to kill him.

Kai raises his sword, steady despite the sickness weakening his limbs. You try to move forward, try to speak—but someone grabs your arm and pulls you back. “Stay out of it,” They hiss, their grip like hellfire on your skin.

Beomgyu steps forward, the moon catching on the edge of the sword at his side, throwing harrowing reflections across his cruel face. Kai’s hand is tight around the hilt of his sword, though it trembles faintly—whether from fever or fury, you cannot tell. The last of his strength has been scraped together for this moment, and it shows in the tension of his shoulders, the tightness in his jaw. He should not be standing—but he is through the sheer power of rage and vengeance. But which man’s pain is greater? Whose hate is stronger?

They circle each other beneath the pallid light of the crescent moon, their swords gleaming, breath billowing like smoke into the night air—one man’s breath waning with every step while the other’s steams with vitality. When their blades meet, it is like thunder—metal shrieking against metal.

Kai fights like a man with nothing left to lose. Each blow is wild, desperate, heavy with everything he cannot say. But Beomgyu—Beomgyu moves like something not quite human. He doesn’t block so much as predict, dancing just out of reach, deflecting each strike with sickening ease. 

He toys with Kai. Every clash, every sidestep, every glint of steel is mocking, a way to lure him in, a way to make him think he has a chance. You feel it, in your bones, the dread building with each near miss, each time Kai’s sword is turned away. Beomgyu is letting him fight. Letting him hope.

Only to take it away.

When Kai somehow manages to land a hit—a shallow cut across Beomgyu’s arm, you think it might finally turn the tide. You too, start to foolishly believe he has a chance. 

But Beomgyu doesn’t even flinch. He turns his head slowly, looks down at the blood on his sleeve… and gives a smile that curdles the blood in your veins, smothering your heart 

Then the real fight begins.

Beomgyu’s strikes grow faster, sharper. The clang of their swords grows louder, deafening. You watch in horror as Kai starts to falter. His knees nearly buckle. He stumbles then recovers—barely. Your hand covers your mouth, heart hammering so loud you think it must be echoing across the clearing.

Beomgyu disarms him in a blur of silver and motion, Kai’s blade spinning into the dirt with a horrible finality. Kai lunges at Beomgyu with his bare hands, his eyes screaming with hatred—but Beomgyu pushes him back easily, driving his foot into Kai’s chest and sending him sprawling onto his back, gasping for breath.

He stands over him. Raises his sword.

“No,” You cry out as if your neck is the one at the edge of the sword. “No, no, no—please—”

The blade halts just at Kai’s neck, trembling there as if eager to slice through, a hair’s breadth away from the skin and muscle. One wrong breath would end it. One slip, and everything would be over.

But Beomgyu doesn’t move. He doesn’t behead Kai where he lies. Instead, he looks at you. And in that breathless stretch of silence, where even the wind seems to still, he smiles again—slow and knowing, as if to tell you that this was always how it would end.

Then, without breaking your gaze, he lifts his sword.

“Seize them,” He commands softly, the words falling from his mouth like the final chant of a curse.

In a moment, his men surge forward. You scream Kai's name as he’s dragged up from the earth, his bloodied body unable to resist. But you still have some fight in you, and you kick and bite, clawing at the arms that close around you, trying to break free, but they are simply too many. You are outnumbered, outmatched. Hopeless.

The world spins. The crowd doesn’t move, doesn’t intervene. They stand and watch the last branch of the ruling family fall at the hands of Beomgyu's sweeping darkness, and they welcome it, too dumb and blind to see that they're surrendering their own lives with yours. 

_____________________________

The men drag you through the settlement, your feet stumbling, your wrists raw from the bonds. At first, you barely notice anything but the iron grip of fear wrapping itself tighter and tighter around your heart. 

But then…you realize the fires are gone. All of them—every hearth, every brazier, every torch—has been snuffed out. No embers glow. No lights leak from the homes that once pulsed with life. Though the whole world is plunged into darkness, the sweltering heat remains, pushing out all hope, smothering any chance of salvation. You can feel the old power in it—the power of endings.

They drag you all to the heart of the settlement where the great fire should be. But there is no fire. Not yet.

Your heart pounds harder the closer you get, a nauseating apprehension roiling in your gut. The smell of burned flesh and smoke still hangs heavy in the air, suffocating your lungs. Even if the fire is dead, the ashes remain.

You are forced to kneel with the others—all those who have remained loyal to the ruling family—but you don’t look at them. You don’t look at the faces of your fellow doomed. You don’t look at the faces of those who have condemned you. You don’t even look at Beomgyu. 

You only see him. Kai.

They have stripped him bare to the waist, his body bloodied and bruised, bound tight to the remnant of the stone altar that Kai's grandmother had used. There he, and it, lie at the center of the clearing in front of an imposing structure… a great wickerman. 

No. This cannot be—the dead fires, the wickerman... Beomgyu cannot be bringing this gruesome ritual back. He cannot be this cruel.

You look with horror at your lover, his hair matted with blood and ash, and you see the rise and fall of his chest—he is still alive. Still breathing. For now. He doesn't even lift his eyes to you. Perhaps he already knows what you know. Perhaps he sees his fate in the face of the terrible wickerman. 

You try to rise but someone strikes you down. You taste blood in your mouth as you see Beomgyu step forward, his black robes billowing around him like wings of a great carrion bird. “By the will of the gods, the line of corruption shall be cut out. The final blood shall be spilled. The curse shall end tonight.”

You scream out—but your voice barely carries, swallowed by the heavy, dark night.

Still, Kai stirs, his eyes find yours. You see no fear in them. Only sorrow. Only regret. And then he turns his gaze to Beomgyu and spits at his feet.

The crowd gasps.

Beomgyu smiles. A terrible, calm smile. He draws his blade—a blade that gleams unnaturally in the fireless dark, and advances. Kai doesn’t struggle, his body too weak—his spirit broken. He has already resigned to his fate.

You sob, struggling against the arms that hold you down. “No! No, please!”

Beomgyu kneels before Kai. He places a hand on Kai’s sternum—almost gentle. He pauses for a moment, closing his eyes as a strangely revenant expression overtakes his face, like a priest anointing a newborn as it comes into this world. But instead, he seems to be marking Kai’s soul for his taking, relishing in the moment before he drives his knife in and severs his soul from his body. 

Kai’s scream splits the night. It splits your soul. You thrash against your captors. You scream. You beg. But it is no use.

Beomgyu carves open his chest with a butcher’s precision, parting ribs and sinew with ease. Blood gushes freely, staining the sacred stone black. And then—worse still—Beomgyu’s hand plunges into the opening he has made. You turn your face away, bile rising in your throat, but you hear it—you hear the wet, wretched sound as he tears Kai’s still beating heart from his chest. You feel yourself shatter. You sob so hard you cannot breathe. You scream his name until your throat rips raw. But there is no mercy.

You look back to see Beomgyu lifting your beloved's heart high for all to see, for you to see—the heart you had sought so hard to love and protect, now ripped out and silenced forever by the hateful hand of a monster you had foolishly let into your lives so many years before—the man you had thought for a reckless moment you could let into your own heart many moons ago… Now he stands, holding your true lover's heart in his hand, presenting it to you like a mad warrior presenting the severed head of his enemy to his lover. 

With a sickening grin, he casts your sweet Kai's heart into the waiting kindling piled high at the base of the pyre. 

You watch, broken, paralyzed, as he places dry herbs and twisted branches—kindling—into your husband’s broken ribcage. He lights a fire, not upon the earth, but within the ruin of his body—a hearth of flesh. The flames writhe unnaturally, curling outward like grasping fingers, hungering for more.

The fire takes your lover's body from the inside out, consuming him from his very soul. The smell of burning flesh fills the air anew. The corrupted smell of the man you loved, making you retch uncontrollably, and you fall onto all fours. You claw at the ground, as if you could bury yourself and escape this nightmare. But the nightmare is only beginning.

This single, profane blaze becomes the mother-fire. From the ruin of Kai’s chest, Beomgyu lights the terrible wickerman. From the fire consuming your beloved’s broken body, his men take up torches, each dipping into the inferno in turn, carrying the corrupted flame to each home, relighting the dead hearths with it—ensuring that every house, every family, every life bears the mark of this sin. 

And as the smoke climbs to the black sky, you know, his tribe will never know the gods' mercy, not when their fires burn with the blood of your beloved—your sweet, beautiful Kai. Once all the fires are lit, Beomgyu turns to the people, his face calm, triumphant. He declares, “The cursed bloodline is no more. The plague has ended with him! Rejoice, my good people. Let this tribe rise from their ashes!”

The crowd erupts in a fevered cheer—grateful, desperate, foolish. You can barely hear them over the ringing in your ears. Because Beomgyu knows—you know—that Kai’s bloodline is not gone. You carry it still—in the form of the life growing quietly within you.

And Beomgyu is not done yet.

You are forced to your feet, alongside the others, and one by one, you are made to kneel before Beomgyu. The searing heat of the great Wickerman’s flames scorches your back, the flames’ flickering shadows dancing on your skin as you are asked the same damning question: “Do you denounce the cursed bloodline?”

The first few in line stand resolute, their loyalty to your husband’s bloodline unwavering. They remain proud, courageous... until they are dragged, screaming, into the burning body of the Wickerman, their defiance swiftly consumed by the flames. 

The courage of those next in line dwindles rapidly, and they all quickly learn that the burn of shame is more tolerable than the scorch of hellfire. They weep, they beg, they repent. They bend the knee.

And then, it is your turn.

Beomgyu's voice is soft, almost sympathetic, as he repeats the question. “Do you denounce the cursed bloodline?” But you know better. His gentleness is nothing but a mask, a cruel performance meant to give you false hope. He means to torture you the same way he tortured your husband. 

You understand that no words will save you now. This is the end.

Still, you must try—You think of the life growing inside you and your stomach twists violently as if your unborn child is crying out, desperate for its own salvation.  To save its still-forming body? To protect its eternal soul? You do not know, but you know you must do something, anything.

“Yes,” You choke out. 

“Then rise.” Beomgyu compels you to your feet, and you rise on shaky legs, expecting him to laugh, to mock you for the weakness you’ve shown in renouncing your own husband—only for him to cast you into the flames just as he threatened.

You shut your eyes as he draws closer, preparing for the end. You think of your husband’s face, his smile, and in the silence of that moment, you wish it is his face that greets you in the afterlife, despite all that has transpired. You wish that in death, he might come to understand, to forgive you for what you've had to do.

But instead Beomgyu pulls you towards him…. and kisses you. 

The crowd gasps, and you remain frozen, wondering if you have already died and gone to the underworld. If this is the gods’ punishment for all your wickedness. 

But then Beomgyu pulls back, his unmistakable dark eyes fixed on you—those eyes that even a demon cannot mimic.  

“She is clean,” Beomgyu declares, his voice ringing out with a grim triumph as he turns to face the shocked crowd. “A true leader must do more than protect his people. He must have the strength to forgive those who have been led astray. He must be ruthless in guarding his own, yet merciful to those who seek redemption. She has fallen victim to their lies and deceit, but as long as she proves her loyalty to my people, I shall not cast aside one as forsaken as her. I know that pain all too well.”

His hand extends towards you, his words honeyed with pretense. “Let us join together to rebuild this tribe into something stronger, greater than ever before.”

You choke on your tears, realising the full deviance of his plans. He has exacted his revenge in its entirety. He has wiped out Kai and his family for the wrongs they committed against him. He has decimated the priest class for their deceit and greed. And he has deprived you of everyone you knew and loved, forcing you to endure the same agonies he suffered, only to claim you for himself in the end. He has made you not only accept him, but beg for him.

Tears fall freely as you nod and the crowd erupts in cheer around you—uncaring whether your tears come from joy or devastation. They don't even consider the broken body of your husband, their former leader, still lying atop the altar stone, abandoned and forgotten. 

Beomgyu's grip on your waist is bruising, exerting more power than is needed to keep your crumbling body upright.

“Clean her up,” He barks the command at the servant women—the same women who prepared you for your marriage to Kai. “Today is a day of celebration.”

As they lead you away, the acrid smoke of Kai’s body still choking the sky, its bitter scent poisoning your lungs—you hear one of Beomgyu’s men mutter, “I don’t know why master hasn’t burned her. She’s one of them. She carries the sickness too.”

You bow your head. You stay silent. For the sake of the child inside you, you must survive. You must not step one foot out of line or these people will not hesitate to burn you.

He has trapped you so utterly, and left the flames as your only escape. 

____________________________

Tears fall silently as the women prepare you, their hands moving with detached efficiency. They say nothing as they wipe your tears away and fix what they have ruined. They make no effort to soothe or comfort you. Gone is the teasing, the light-hearted laughter of your first wedding. Now, there is only a tense silence. They pity you, you sense it in their glances, but not one of them would lift their voice against Beomgyu. They are bound to him, as you are, and though their hearts may ache for you, none would dare save you from him.

Beomgyu weds you, proving his mercy to his people but also legitimising his ascension to power by marrying the fallen leader’s wife. 

The crown of wildflowers they place on his head makes him look beautiful, boyish even—the most innocent he has ever looked when he's the most guilty. The crown on your own head feels like it should wither, for how could such delicate flowers withstand your grief? 

You look around you and your crumbling heart turns to dust at the reminder of everyone that isn't here anymore—your family, your friends, Kai…. They've all been taken from you. Beomgyu has stripped you bare of everyone who has ever loved or cared for you so you would stand here alone, as he is. 

He has stolen your life from you, forcing you to face the void it left behind and daring you not to succumb to it, not to fall into the same abyss he did.

Meanwhile, Beomgyu’s men are loud, their cheers roaring in the air, rising above the clink of cups, their laughter richer than the wine they drink. This bloody revolution has carried them swiftly up the ranks, granting them power and wealth they could never have dreamed of, never could have earned in a hundred lifetimes. They are drunk on their victory, intoxicated by their conquest. To them, this is their moment of glory. They are the leaders now, standing atop the ashes of those who once ruled, reigning over the ruins they have made.

The people, too, celebrate with wild abandon—their laughter spilling into the air, as they throw themselves into the revelry, eager to bask in the warmth of a new dawn. They drink deeply, their cups never empty, their hearts swollen with false euphoria. They try to lose themselves in it—the music, the dancing, the generosity of the feast. They tell themselves that they have finally broken the chains that have held them down, and now they stand free. 

But beneath their drunken joy, you sense an undercurrent of fear—a fear you know too well, the fear of the man they’ve crowned, of what he is capable of, and a nagging dread that they have sacrificed too much. For all their joy, they know they are not free. Not now. Perhaps not ever.

Beomgyu does not join in the celebrations. He sits quiet, his own wine untouched, his impassive gaze sweeping over the revelers. He does not raise a cup to his victory. He does not even spare a glance towards the bride he has claimed through fire and ash. It's disquieting to be sitting next to him but not feel his steely gaze on you when you've been tormented by those same eyes every moment of your miserable existence until now— the absence of that torment as unsettling as the presence of it ever was.

Does he desire this marriage at all? For whom is it truly meant? Is this another move in his cruel game, another way to crush you, to prove his dominion over you?

He does not even linger at his own wedding for long. The ritual, the eternal binding of your soul to his, seems nothing but a mere formality—performed by one of the few remaining priests who have chosen to bend the knee in order to save their skin—as if the laws of the gods ever mattered to Beomgyu.

Once it is done, he doesn’t take long to retire to his home, dragging you along with him and leaving his men to indulge in their solitary, drunken revelry, and the people to their uneasy celebration of their new life under his rule. 

In his iron grip, you feel the pretense of his indifference falter. This celebration was never for you. It wasn’t even for him. It was for them.

But now his real celebration begins. 

_________________________

Beomgyu’s kisses are oppressive–all the emotion that had evaded him the entire sham wedding suddenly found and unleashed on you at once, his mouth devouring yours as his hands grab their fill of every inch of your body. 

He doesn’t permit you any room to breathe, stealing the breath right out of your lungs the same way he stole everything from you. 

But before your spotty vision turns to black, he pulls back, panting and frazzled as if he has snapped out of whatever madness had overcome him. But he could never part from his insanity, for it is too deeply rooted in his rotten mind. 

“I've waited for this day for years.” He tells you, fingers caressing your face as his dilated pupils take you in like a lion sizing up their meal. You think you would have felt safer with a lion than the creature stood in front of you. “I knew from the start that the gods have made you to be mine. My beautiful prize for all that I have been put through.”

The gods could not have willed this. He went against them, tore down their shrines, massacred their vessels, gutted their supports. He does not deserve you or anyone else. He should have remained in loneliness and exile like he was fated to be. 

But he has broken out now, carved a new cursed path for himself with the burning flesh of your fallen gods, and you must keep your mouth shut or you, too, will burn. 

Beomgyu searches your face for something-–what that is, you do not know—but he doesn’t seem pleased by what he finds, the corner of his lip twitching for a moment before a light scoff leaves his mouth. “No words for me? Fine, if that is how you wish it to be.” 

Wish it to be? You never wanted any part of this!

But in his infinite delusion, Beomgyu does not care, choosing to take offence to your rightful rejection of his obsessive declaration of his devotion. He presses down on your shoulders, pushing you to your knees. 

“Repent, my flower.” He tells you, your line of sight directly in front of his erect member. You feel sick. You can’t believe this is happening. You can't believe you're all alone with this monster. You wish you had burned with all the others, but here you are, suffering a fate worse than death in order to protect your unborn child. It’s the last remnant you have of Kai, the last vestige of his crumbled legacy. You’ve destroyed him and his entire family with this vile creature in front of you. You owe them this. 

Beomgyu pulls his cock out, brushing your hair out of your face so he can press the head of it to your lips. “Open up, my flower.” 

You open your mouth a little, fighting with yourself in order to please him but that wasn’t enough for him. He pointedly presses his fingers into the hollows of your cheeks to force your mouth open wider before he shoves his cock in, already forcing you to take more than you can handle. 

You instinctively raise your hands up to push him back but he smacks them away, his own hand moving from your jaw to your hair and jerking your head back roughly, forcing you to look up at him—the crown of flowers at the top of your head almost falling off at the savage motion if not for the multiple pins placed there to keep it in place.  

“Do not lay your hands on me.” He hisses sharply and for a second he lets you feel the full extent of the darkness he bears in his soul. “You have not earned the right.”

You cower, quickly putting your hands behind your back and he smiles chillingly at your obedience, patting your cheek condescendingly. “Good girl. I know you can learn to be a good wife for me.”

You feel another wave of nausea overtake your body as it breaks out in a sickly sweat. Oh heavens, that's what you are now, isn't it? His wife. That or a charred corpse. 

You don't have enough time to swallow down the lump in your throat before he moves to feed you his cock once more and, even though you’re better prepared for it this time, you still gag around him when he pushes in too far. “You must know how to please me. You will come to learn what I like soon enough. And I certainly like seeing you on your knees begging for my forgiveness. So go on my flower, beg with that pretty mouth of yours.”

You obediently keep your mouth open and your body still as he fucks your face and moans in appreciation every time your throat spasms around the intrusion. You can tell he likes it. He takes pleasure from hurting you in this way. Kai has never treated you this roughly. He was sweet and shy and kind, and now he’s gone because you were too selfish to sacrifice yourself to this monster. 

“That's it. you were always a fast learner, my flower.” Beomgyu hums, pleased with your surrender, and for a moment you think he will be more gentle with you as he pulls back to take a brief pause, his fingers smearing your own drool across your face and his eyes glinting with thrill at the sight of your swollen lips. 

For a moment he looks at you almost… tenderly—a near perfect mockery of a lover admiring their beloved.

But then he lines his cock with your mouth and slams it back in, forcing himself all the way down your throat in one go and holding you there—throat full of him and nose nestled into groin for a few moments that feel like an eternity as your throat convulses and tries to push out the intrusion. 

You struggle to stay still for him, to not reach up and push him out so you can regain your breath. Your nails dig into your palms as you try to keep your hands in place and breathe through your nose so you won't suffocate.

“Yeah That's it.” He purrs, his enjoyment palpable, the taste of it bitter at the back of your throat. “I'm going to train that tight throat of yours every night until every word you speak will  taste of me.” 

He pulls back until just the tip is in your mouth and your jaw gapes open to suck in much needed air, but he is too cruel to allow you that, shoving his cock back in your throat right as you take in a breath. He does this again and again, his ruthless thrusts bruising the back of your throat as your scalp burns from the sting of his grip. The obscene wet sounds of his thrusts and your gagging fill the silent night and you wonder if the whole tribe can hear you— if everyone is bearing witness to your dishonour. His guards standing outside certainly do.

“Fuck, fuck, that feels too good. Stop.” He curses loudly, pulling you off his cock as if he's the one that needs the air. 

The small break is like a damn breaking loose, and you sob as the night air rushes in, feeling like embers raked across your burning throat. 

You cry, your sobs harsh and ugly, tears mingling with the mess of saliva dribbling down your chin and sticking your hair to your face in a disgustingly pathetic display.

“Are you crying for me now, flower?” He asks mockingly, but the look of false concern on his face quickly gets replaced with primal hunger the harder you cry. “I think I'll never tire of this sight. I have always dreamed of you coming back to me–being so sweet and loving and making me forget all that everyone has put me through. But you put me through it too–you hurt me most of all, and seeing you cry on my cock like this feels just as good as your love would feel like. Your tears are so delicious, my flower.”

The horror and disgust that fill you listening to his harrowing words know no bounds. How can anyone be so cruel as to take such pleasure from another’s suffering? Have you truly made him this way? It cannot be. No human, no matter how twisted, could ever equate this torture to the pure bliss and warmth of love. Only a creature who has never known love could believe that this—this—could ever compare.

He was born defective, and it is your own wretched fault for inviting him into your life with your misguided kindness. His intentions about you were never pure. He has always viewed you preversly and the years have allowed his lust for you to fester and grow twisted. And now you're at his mercy—his to shape, to play out whatever depraved fantasies he dreams up for you.

He tugs on your hair harshly, guiding you back to his cock and immediately resumes his unforgiving pace, letting you feel just how angry he is with you. His thrusts are rabid and at times he pushes his cock so far down your abused throat that your nose is nestled into his pelvis.

“Look at me.” He demands, holding you on his cock for so long your vision starts blackening and you can hardly see him through the darkness, but you dare not disobey him despite your tears and the dark spots almost rendering you blind.  “Gods, I can cum just from the pathetic look in those eyes.”

You wish he would. Maybe if he came, he would feel satisfied enough for it to dull his wrath if even to a small degree. But he doesn’t allow this. Instead he pulls you off his cock completely, dragging it out along with a mess of your drool and his arousal that dribbles disgustingly down your chin and onto your chest. 

“Filthy. Just how you should be for my cock.” He groans, his own hand moving over his cock that hangs heavily between his legs. “Should I cum on this pretty face? Or maybe these gorgeous tits?” He reaches down to play with your breasts, using the mess on your chest to wet and play with your nipples. 

You squeak at the touch, disgusted by the unwelcome jolt of pleasure this sends through you. You look up at him in a panic, hoping he didn't notice but the gods weren't so kind to you. Not after everything you've done. 

“Or maybe you'd prefer I cum in that needy pussy? I bet you’re fucking soaking right now. I know you have been dying to be claimed by your real lover.”

You shake your head, your nausea reaching unbearable levels at your own shameful reactions to his touches. “Please, don't–”

He slaps the protest right out of your mouth. 

“Now, flower, that’s not what I’d call being a very good wife, is it? When your husband asks to be welcomed into your pretty pussy you're to lay back and spread those legs for him so he can breed you nice and good.”

What is he talking about? He knows you're already with child. What is he plotting now?

“I'm sorry.” You croak, not wanting him to hurt you or your baby. 

“It's alright, my stupid little flower. You will learn soon enough.” He promises darkly, “But for now you have to prove to me that you are truly sorry for everything you’ve done to me.”

What you have done to him? He has massacred your and Kai’s entire family and everyone you knew or loved, yet you’re the one who needs to be forgiven? Is he utterly mad?

You eye him warily as he lets go of you and walks towards the soft furs laid on the ground. You wish you could spring to your feet and grab the heavy metal pot at the corner of the room and use it bash his skull in—hammer it over his head until his pretty face is a mix of red mush and dark hair.

But you know you'd be drawn and quartered if you hurt him. You'd never survive even if you escaped. That is if you even were able to get through the dark powers that protect him to lay a finger on him. No, you have to think about your child. You must not be selfish anymore.

He sits down on the furs and pats his lap. “Come, wife. Prove yourself to me. Ride my cock until you convince me to give you my seed.”

He truly is despicable. All of this is his twisted form of revenge for your rejection of him. He wants to humiliate you, to break you—and he is succeeding.

You cannot rise to your feet—you do not have the power left to do so—so you crawl slowly toward him, a sight that seems to please him more than it should. His eyes darken as you draw closer, his hand stroking his own cock in anticipation. When you are within reach, his hand shoots out to pull you onto his lap, an impatient growl escaping him. "You enjoy drawing this out, don't you?" He taunts, kneading your breasts and biting his lip at your restrained moans. "I think you like this. I think you have been purposefully teasing me so I would go crazy for you."

You have to hold yourself back from crying again at the accusation. You do not wish to upset him but you cannot fathom how wild his delusions have gotten. 

His hand goes between your legs to rub coarsely at your pussy, and to your eternal shame and humiliation, he finds you wet. 

“I knew it. I knew you wanted this.” He asserts and you can’t stop yourself from shaking your head. “No.” You protest weakly. “I don’t.” 

“Cry more for me. Cleanse your sins with your tears, my priestess.” He moans, rubbing his hardened length along your wet pussy, soaking up all your pain and revelling in it. It seems to bring him as much pleasure as anything. So you force yourself to stop. You bite down on your tongue to keep the tears at bay. 

He laughs. “Putting on a brave face now? Let's see how long you can keep that up when you're riding my cock.” He sits you up so his cock is right at your entrance. 

“Come then, darling priestess, desecrate that divine body of yours.” He mocks you, not pushing you down but instead leaving you to do it yourself as if you had a choice. 

But you do not have any choice. You must obey his every sick desire or you and your unborn child would perish. Is that why he hasn’t harmed your child yet? Why he hasn't he ripped it out of the safety of your womb to use in his nefarious spells? Chills run down your spine. If you do not listen to him, you may be condemning your own child to a fate too gruesome for words.

With that horrible thought in mind, you grit your teeth as you sink down on his member, feeling the plague breach you completely as your pussy gives way to his cock.

“Yes, finally.” He hisses, his face twisting in ecstacy at the feeling of his cock pressed to the hilt inside of you, your warm wet walls wrapped tightly around him. 

He takes a moment to savour it, jaw held open in a silent moan as his eyes rake over your body; your crown still hanging by the flowers tangled in your hair, your dress pushes over your shoulders to unveil your breasts to his ravenous gaze. 

“Move.” He finally says, giving you a small nudge with his hips. 

You're scared to touch him without his permission—and you will not ask for it—so you plant your hands on either side of his body and use it as leverage to push yourself up and down, first only slightly then building up speed as your pussy quickly adapts to the intrusion—hoping to end this as quickly as you can. 

“Good girl.” He praises, eyes shamelessly devouring the sight in front of him as he mistakes your urgency for desire. “You pretend to be so meek and chaste but your body is just begging to be fucked properly, isn’t it?”

He rips your dress off, completely exposing your body so he can savagely feast on it with his gaze and touch. “You can't tell me he didn't hold you down to fuck these tits every day. I know I won't be able to resist this filthy body of yours.”

Another threat you're certain he will fulfil if the way he's abusing your body is any indication.

“He didn't. He wasn’t a monster like you.” You steel your voice, attempting to defend your husband in death the way you weren’t able to defend him in life. Beomgyu is vile and rotten, and Kai was pure, lovely, and much too good for you.  

But your words only make Beomgyu smile, seemingly pleased with that. “The coward couldn't appreciate what he's been gifted. That's why you've come to me.” 

Each word that spills from the monster’s mouth is crafted to unmake you—to drive your mind to ruin. He knows well that you did not come to him of your own will. The only reason he holds you now is because he butchered your beloved and laid waste to all you held dear. Never would you have been his otherwise. 

You bite down upon your tongue until the taste of blood fills your mouth so it would refrain from openly contradicting him, and then you continue to bite down some more. This, you think, is his aim. He wants to test you—to draw out any fight left in you so he can beat it down until you’re utterly servile to him. 

“How does my cock feel? Better than his?” He continues to taunt you but you stay quiet. 

That is clearly not the response he wanted, and you feel his large hand wrap around your neck. Though he does not appear strong, you know the extent of his power all too well. He could break you with the ease of a butcher wringing the neck of a pheasant. “How does it feel, flower?”

“It feels good.” You respond shakily, hoping that would be enough to stay his hand, but of course it isn’t. He tightens his grip further, waiting. You know what he wants, and you mutter a silent prayer of sorrow and shame to your departed husband before you give in. 

“Better than his.” You say, the words tasting like ash on your tongue as you imagine your poor dead lover’s soul crying at the lie. 

“Not perfect,” He says at last, releasing his grip with a cold smile, “but it shall suffice—for now.” His words and demeanour bring you no comfort–they promise you a future full of these humiliations until you are so thoroughly broken down, he can mould you into the grotesque vision of yourself he has long harbored. His next words leave no doubt of it. “You'll learn to do better in time. We have a whole lifetime together after all.”

You let out a wretched sob but this time, it does not seem to please him. If anything, it irritates him—like he expected you to accept the grim promise of a life filled with torment, and you’ve somehow disappointed him. He grunts unhappily, his hand coming down on your ass as he barks out an order for you to go faster. 

You can barely hold yourself upright, your body and soul protesting your uncouth actions, yet you force yourself to keep going, straining your muscles to push your body up and down on his cock. 

“Your belly is beginning to round." He observes, his attention fixed on it, and fear grips you. 

“Don’t hurt my child.” You sputter, panicking, and his laugh rattles your bones. “Why would I hurt my own flesh and blood?” 

“W-what?” You ask, your mind halting at the shock of his words but your body already senses what your mind refuses to fathom, and the suffocating grip of dread wraps itself around your failing heart. 

“Oh, my poor, foolish flower,” He murmurs, a cold smile curling on his lips, his large hand settling over the slight curve of your belly—possessive, not tender. “You didn’t think this belonged to him, did you?”

No. Oh heavens, please, anything but this. 

You shake your head, refusing to believe him. 

"It cannot be," You swallow, your throat dry, the words catching in your chest as dark images of a shadowed figure flicker in the back of your mind. "How...?"

“Darling, I know you’re not very bright—after all if you were, none of this would have happened, but certainly even you can piece together the truth.” 

You want to scream, to claw his hand away, to spit every denial in your throat into his face—but you know it would do no good. You cannot banish the doubts that have now taken a hold of your mind—the voices that tell you that the child is his. The shadow figure was real. You’re to blame for all of this. 

“Remember that night I visited you?” He confirms, striking down any hope of salvation you had left, any inkling that you have not been completely corrupted by him. “Well my shadow did. You remember, right? You let me in. You remember my cock sliding into your waiting cunt the day I killed your father? You took it so well. You knew who you truly belonged to. Your waking mind didn't know it yet but your soul did. Now you get to have the real thing. All of me.”

You shake your head again, not because you don’t believe him but because you do not wish to. You try to get off him but your movements are sluggish—your body weak and weighed down by everything that has transpired while his remains strong and quick with the vitality of the dark forces coursing through his veins. He pushes you onto your back easily, the flower crown finally falling off as he climbs over you, his figure eclipsing yours as if he’s ready to devour you. 

His cock had slipped out of your pussy during the short altercation, and you shiver at the empty feeling, finally able to breathe for a moment. But even these small moments of reprieve he gives you seem intentional, designed so he can lull you into a false feeling of safety so he can use your vulnerability to break you down further. 

And once again your body tenses as you feel his heavy cock drag over your wet lips, his hot flesh almost branding your pussy as it rubs against you, filling the room with a nauseating sticky sound before he finally moves down to breach your hole, letting out a loud exhale at the feeling of being so completely engulfed by you once more. 

“That feeble wretch could never have begotten you a child.” He growls, letting his possessiveness shine unrestrained. “This is mine. His name, his blood, his legacy—they are nothing but ash. But you, and what grows within you, will carry me forward. Only our love will remain.” 

The sickness coils in your belly. You are bearing the monster’s child. Not even the pyre could cleanse you now. You’ve been defiled in body and spirit—and now heaven can never be yours.

“What are you?” You ask fearfully as he fucks you open on his cock. Surely, he is no mere human. 

“I am your fate, my precious flower. I am what the gods have chosen for you. I am what loves you.” 

Horror wells in your chest and your stomach turns. How can he say such things—how can he speak of love while reeking of death and fire? What twisted deity would bind you to him? What crime have you committed so grave that this... this is your punishment? Why have the heavens turned their gaze from you? Why have you been left to a creature who claims to love you while covered in the ashes of everyone you have loved, who speaks for divinity while dragging you through hell? 

You want to scream, to tear your skin from your bones, to escape the vessel he claims as his own. But you can only lie there, trembling, as his cock splits you open, as he takes what he desires from you. 

“You will learn to love me too.” He promises, his hand going between your legs to rub your sensitive pussy. 

“Please, don’t.” You whimper, too scared to even cry anymore. You don’t want to cum. You don’t want to give him that too. 

“Just let go. Give into me, my flower, and I promise to lay the world at your feet.” He coaxes, the combination of his deliberate, incessant touches on your pussy and his cock fucking in and out of you forces your body to react, and the uncomfortable heat building up in your belly threatens to spill and consume the rest of your body that is too tired to put up any defenses. You find yourself helpless to stop it and, as if he has you under his spell, it burns inside you until it’s at a fever pitch. “Surrender yourself to me.” 

A loud strangled cry breaks out of you as you cum, spasming around his cock uncomfortably as he grins and fucks you through it. He doesn’t stop even when your pussy tries to push him out. He doesn’t stop even after your body stills. He doesn’t stop even as you begin to cry again from the overstimulation. 

“Please, no more.” You weep, hating the way he’s looking at you like your tears are sustaining him. 

“But I haven’t released yet. Surely, my beautiful wife can’t be that selfish as to take all the pleasure just for herself.” 

Pleasure? You feel nothing of the sort. You hate him. You hate yourself.

“Then fucking cum.” You hiss, the tide of revulsion momentarily rising higher than your fear of him.

“Do you want it?” He asks eagerly, eyes gleaming with a twisted hunger. You realize with a sickening lurch that this is what he wants—not just to claim you, but to make you beg for it.  

And you will. Because you're exhausted. Because you want it to stop. You just want this nightmare to end.

“Yes.”

He leans in closer, unsatisfied. “Yes, what?” He presses, savoring your shame.

“I want you,” You force out, the words scraping against your throat. 

He studies you, like a cat toying with its prey. “Are you certain? You don’t sound sure.”

“I want you!” You cry out for him. Anything to end this.  “Want you to fill me up. Want you to breed my pussy until it knows nothing but your cock, until I’ve given you the family you’ve always wanted.”  

“That’s it. Fuck…” He throws his head back, shuddering at the pleas he has all put in your mouth. His thrusts grow even harsher and more erratic as he finally allows his control to slip, filling the quiet night with his primal moans as he fucks you like a wild animal. “I’m going to give it to you. I’ll make sure that you’re only mine.” 

At last, he releases inside you, his cum branding you from inside, searing his name into your flesh. His breathing comes out ragged, his gaze fixed on your face with something close to reverence — but it is much too dark. The look he gives you as he commits this moment to his memory takes you back to that moment that now feels like a lifetime ago—the moment he had first claimed you. Though the eyes he wears now are brown, they bear the same coldness those icy blue eyes did. 

When he has given you every last bit of him, he picks up your fallen crown of wildflowers and places it upon your head, his fingers lingering as they sweep your hair from your face, the motion almost tender, but it feels grotesque—like a predator trying on the skin of the lover he has slaughtered.

“I won't always be so cruel.” He murmurs softly, almost sadly. “I wasn't always so cruel. I am what you, and everyone else, made me. But I am giving you a second chance. Use it wisely and I'll put the world at your feet. Squander it and I won't be so merciful next time.” He lets his threat linger in the air, lets you breathe it in until it settles into your bones. 

“Know this.” His hand shifts, pressing firmly against your stomach, hot and possessive. “You will never escape me again. Our fates are bound together now. Our souls intertwined to create this life.” 

You shudder, wondering what it is that you are carrying within you. What creature will be born of the unnatural union between yourself and his shadow? Will it bear the beauty of his sad, haunted eyes, or the cold, merciless gaze of his shadow? Will it possess the innocence of childhood or will it be born with the taste of blood on its tongue? 

Gods, what have you done? What has he done to you?

_____________________

Epilogue

You've given birth to Beomgyu’s child. Despite your worries, it wasn’t a blue-eyed monster, as you had feared. Her eyes are a deep brown, like the earth, like her father’s, but you want to believe she is different. You want to let go of your ugly suspicions, but something about her is just… off.

When you lay her down beside you, she watches you with the kind of stillness that makes you want to look away. She doesn’t laugh like other babies, doesn’t cry much either. You can tell she’s not quite right. It’s not in her looks—her features are sweet, innocent like any other baby—but in the way her gaze lingers, too piercing for one so young. It’s as if she can see through you. There is a knowing look to her eyes, unnervingly intelligent, as if she understands far more than an infant should.

You’re ashamed to admit you’re scared of your own child.

Beomgyu, on the other hand, is captivated by her—a far cry from the monster you’ve come to know. When he looks at her, his face is alight with a tenderness he never shows anyone else. There are times when you catch him staring at her with a quiet awe, as if he can’t quite believe she’s real. 

You haven’t seen him so unguarded, so open, since you were children. When he holds her, it’s as if all the hardness of the man he’s become slips away, and for a brief moment, you glimpse the boy you once knew—lost to the world but still buried somewhere deep inside.

Whenever you grow too weary to care for her, he takes her from you without hesitation. He does not let the servants touch her, not even for a moment. He insists on doing it all himself, bathing her, dressing her, playing with her—he does it all with a softness that makes your skin crawl, as if his hands have never stained the world with blood. 

He whispers to her in soft tones, words you can’t quite make out, as though he’s sharing some secret with her, and it almost seems like she understands him...

The doubts plaguing your mind grow stronger every single day. You feel guilty—torn between a mother’s love for her child and the creeping dread that tightens around your chest every time she looks at you. When you hold her, when you feel the warmth of her tiny body against yours, a part of you wants nothing but to protect her and keep her safe from the evil world she was born into... but another part of you—the one you can’t silence—wants to pull away, to run before she grows into the monster her father is. 

When you look at her, her eyes wide and unblinking, you wonder if she is truly innocent, or if she has been corrupted from the start—the product of the twisted bond between you and her father, the result of a love and power too dark to understand.

Since her birth, Beomgyu has softened, becoming almost… gentle with you. He treats you like a man ought to treat his wife. He holds you to sleep at night, his arms wrapped around you with a gentleness you once thought him incapable of. At every meal, he ensures you eat first, his voice calm as he insists you need to restore your strength. When your swollen feet ache from the remnants of pregnancy, he kneels at your feet and massages them with a care that feels almost… loving. 

He acts like any of this is real, like he’s not the man who has torn your world apart—as if these small gestures could erase the horrors of what he's done, what he continues to do.

But you refuse to fall for it. You know what he is. This is just another way for him to control you, another way to bend you into his image of what your life should be. And it upsets him when you don’t play along.

He presses his lips to yours, and there is a hunger and urgency in the kiss that leaves you reeling. They build up all too quickly, almost reaching a fever pitch in just a few short moments.  You can feel his desire for you burning through, but before he can take it any further, you pull away abruptly. 

“No,” You tell him through gritted teeth, voice quivering yet resolute. “I’ve only just given birth to your child. I need rest. Have you not already wrecked my body enough?”

He doesn’t say anything at first, the heat in his gaze lingering, searching, perhaps for some weakness. But you stand your ground. 

Your refusal of him has gone unpunished so far, and though his desire for you is unmistakable, he has yet to push too hard. Since the birth of your daughter, you’ve refused him, and while he’s used other means to release himself, you can see the frustration building beneath his calm exterior. The man who once took you whenever he wished, ravaging you relentlessly, has had to settle for what little you’ve offered—bet it your hands or your mouth. 

He has let it slide until now, playing the part of the doting, concerned husband even if you won’t play the part of the loving wife, but you can feel the strain it’s causing him. His jaw tightens, his brows furrow, and you know—he’s reaching the breaking point. You brace yourself, wondering if this time, the mask will finally slip, and if the beast beneath will show itself again.

After a long, tense silence, he steps back. His frustration is palpable, simmering just below the surface, but he still holds it back. “As you wish, my flower,” He murmurs, voice tight, his fists clenched. Without another word, he turns on his heel and walks away.

For another day, he lets you be, but you know he will not remain patient forever, and the thought of him breaking, no longer willing to accept your refusals, makes your chest tighten. 

As you steady your breathing, trying to collect yourself, you hear a scoff from behind. The sound is oddly sharp, grating on your nerves. You turn to find one of your servants standing with her arms crossed, an expression of barely veiled pity on her face—though it feels more like mockery than sympathy.

“You know he won’t be so patient for long.” She tells you smugly, as if she knows all about your husband. “If a man finds no satisfaction in his wife, he’ll seek it elsewhere.”

Your answering laugh is bitter, tasting of the blood and ash of everyone he’s killed. “I wish he would.”

Yet the ignorant girl has the nerve to roll her eyes at you and say, “You’re ungrateful.”

“Ungrateful?!” You hiss, fury rising in your chest. “Do you not know who he is? Do you not know what he’s done?”

Does she not know he has slaughtered everyone you hold dear? Does she not see how he has forced himself on you with the threat of fire and death? 

But still, she does not flinch, and her arrogance remains unshaken. “He is the leader of our tribe—strong, capable. He pulled us from the ashes. He is what we need.”

“He’s the one who brought us hell. He’s a monster.” You hiss, not allowing her to blur the truth.

She shrugs, uncaring, her indifference stoking the flames in your chest. “It matters not. All leaders are monsters. It’s how they rule. At least he was merciful enough to make you his wife. He could have cast you to the flames like the others. Like some people had urged him to.”

Her words sear you, but your temper flares hotter. You step toward her, your hand moving without thought, striking her across the face, the sound echoing in the still air. “You have no idea what he’s done to me. Death would have been mercy.”

She stands unfazed, her cheek turning red but her grin remains cold. “Then perhaps you’ll get what you wish for.” She sneers at you. 

You fall silent for a moment, studying her with growing suspicion. Why does she defend him so fiercely? What does she stand to gain from it?.… It is then that realization strikes, and a mocking laugh escapes you. 

“You want him, don’t you?” You jeer, watching her response closely. Finally, your words hit their mark. Her expression shifts, and her posture stiffens. It’s almost as if you can see the walls of defense spring up to try to guard the secrets you’ve just uncovered. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” She retorts, her voice brimming with pretense pride. “He’s strong, a man of power. He saved this tribe from ruin and led us toward a new dawn. He’s a king among men. And he chose you to stand beside him. I don’t know why. Perhaps he was swayed by your family’s name, your blood as a priestess. Perhaps he thought you worthy to bear his children. But he’s wrong. He should have chosen better.”

​​“Oh, you poor, naive thing,” You laugh bitterly, voice dripping with mockery. “Tell me, is the orphan girl jealous? Does it eat at you to know he would never look at scum like you the way he looks at me?” Your words cut deep, cruel and deliberate, twisting the knife in her wounds. You see her struggle, the way her eyes flicker with both envy and disdain

She sees herself in Beomgyu. She thinks him different—a man who has clawed his way out of the ashes of his past, who rose above the hate and exile placed upon him. In him, she sees salvation—an escape from the life she was born into. 

To her, you are undeserving of him. She looks at you and sees all you’ve been born into—your family, your wealth, your status, everything that came easily to you while she has had to fight for every breath, every scrap. Her jealousy has clouded her vision, blinding her to all that you have had to endure, to the tragedies that have led you into the claws of the man she worships. 

You can feel the anger building in her. You see the way her hands clench, her chest rising with each breath, knowing she longs to hurt you but she holds herself back, Because that same man she is defending so blindly could rip the skin off her body if she dares to touch you. 

“He is blinded by your status,” She spits, her voice hot with jealousy. “But I know that if he had one night with me, he wouldn’t look to you for comfort anymore.”

“Well, why don’t you try for yourself then?” You offer and she frowns, caught off guard by your proposal. “I’ll let you take my place for the night. You can sleep in my bed, and I’ll sleep in yours. If you manage to win his favor, whether it’s his heart or his cock, you can keep it.” The words hang between you, dripping with disdain.

She hesitates, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. Her instincts warn her, screaming at her that something is amiss, urging her to refuse. But, she's too stupid, too greedy, to listen to them.

“Fine.” She lifts her chin, attempting to mask her doubt with defiance. “But don't come crying to me when I make him mine.”

You smile bitterly, your lips curling in silent contempt, and without another word, you turn and walk away. You let her take your place, opening your bed to her for the night. As you step outside, a knot of unease tightens in your chest. A part of you warns against playing this dangerous game, tempting the beast, but another part, louder and more reckless, speaks of relief. Relief that for just one night, you won’t have to endure the monster’s touch.

And that is a temptation you cannot bring yourself to deny. 

__________________

It’s a turbulent night, one where the relief you so longed for never comes. Sleep eludes you, slipping further away the harder you try to grasp it. Though his absence allows you to breathe more easily, an unease gnaws at your thoughts. You wonder, in the quiet of the dark, what would happen if he truly chose her.

You tell yourself you wouldn’t miss his touch. You wouldn’t. But deep down, a fear stirs—what if he grows too fond of her? What if, in time, he tires of your defiance, of the constant resistance you offer, and takes her as his wife instead? What cruel fate would he devise for you then, should he decide to cast you aside?

He has already taken everything he wanted from you—Kai’s throne, your dignity, your body, your flesh and blood. And now, all that remains is your soul.

As the first light of dawn begins to creep across the sky, you rise and make your way back home, dreading what you'll find. This was a mistake. You've let yourself grow too comfortable with the monster, and forgotten that he can devour you whole at any moment.

You imagine finding them in bed together—her body draped over his, held close like a lover. You picture the evidence of his desire that you had been neglecting marking her skin like an unspoken claim…

A strange twinge of jealousy stirs within you, unbidden and unwelcome. You know you shouldn’t feel this way, but how can you not? He has stripped away everyone you knew, everyone you loved, and forced himself into their roles. Can you truly be blamed for feeling a spark of anger, a flicker of resentment, at the thought of him finding comfort in someone else—comfort that he never afforded you?

But when you step into your home, what greets you is not at all what you expected. You freeze, rooted to the spot, shock rendering you speechless.

There, in your shared bed, the servant lies bound and gagged, her face swollen with the remnants of tears. Her eyes, once full of defiance, are now empty and broken, glistening with the fear of the man she had only yesterday sang the praises of before you.

Your throat tightens, a lump rising as you gasp, barely able to form the words. “What—” You manage to choke out, the sound barely escaping your lips.

Beomgyu sits beside her, his face unreadable. In his hand, he holds a dagger, lazily pointing it in your direction, a flippant threat that sends a hot shiver down your spine. “Is this your idea, dear wife?” He asks, his voice unnervingly soft, like the calm before the storm.

You shake your head, hands trembling at your sides. “No... she—”

“So it’s her idea?” He turns towards the servant, his movements deliberate as he presses the blade to her neck.

“No, please!” You cry out. You never meant for it to get this far. “Please, don’t hurt her.”

The knife hovers above her skin, and time seems to stretch in the silent tension. He doesn’t answer immediately, his eyes flickering between you and her, pondering. A single drop of blood forms where the blade threatens to bite into her flesh. Her life hangs by the thinnest thread, every breath a risk with the dagger so close.

But, for now, he shows mercy. Slowly, he lifts the blade, and the girl, shaken and terrified, lets out a quiet sob.

“You think you can just slide off your duties to someone else?” He growls, his words like a whip against your skin.

“No.” You stammer, the world spinning around you. You’ve pushed him too far. He will punish you for this. “She told me you would grow tired of me. She said she could take you from me. I wished to prove her wrong.”

“So you did this to test me?”

“Yes.” You answer, your voice small, and he regards you in silence.

He is no fool. He sees the truth—that you did this hoping to rid yourself of your duties to him, hoping to find some fleeting relief from the chains that bind you to him.

For a long, agonizing moment, he simply sits there, his eyes never leaving you. He contemplates—whether to hurt her? Whether to hurt you? You do not know.

Then, without a word, he draws the knife and slices through the ropes binding her. His command is harsh, a sharp bark: “Leave.”

The servant scrambles from the bed, still gagged as she crawls away on her hands and feet, her legs unable to carry her, yet she is so desperate to escape him. She has barely glimpsed the darkness he harbors, and it has already shattered her. How could she, the foolish thing, ever believe she could replace you?

How could you ever think you had the strength to defy him?

Once she is gone, he walks towards you. His hands move to your face with a gentleness that feels foreign after the violence. He lifts your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “I want no one but you,” He says, his voice softer now, but the darkness it conceals just beneath the surface could drown you. “I will not accept anyone else. You will never be rid of me. Do you understand?”

You nod, tears gathering in your eyes. You understand now. He will have you—body, soul, and spirit. You will never be free of him. 

In time, you find yourself yielding—not out of love, nor desire, but out of self-preservation. You allow him to take what he wants from you, offering yourself as a sacrifice, a supposed means of taming the beast within him. The shame of your resignation weighs on you, and the guilt eats away at your insides as you turn a blind eye to the dark rituals he performs behind closed doors, pretending not to hear the quiet chants that echo in the night, or the deeper, otherworldly voices that join him—pretending not to see the dark power that crackles and hums in the air around him. You tell yourself this is the price of survival, that the safety of everyone—yourself, your child, the people—demands this sacrifice.

But with each passing day, the line between survival and complicity grows fainter until, on a fateful night, it is no more.

You had laid your daughter down to sleep, closing her off from the horrors of Beomgyu’s nightly rituals, retreating into the fragile peace you’ve carved for the both of you. You try not to hear the dark happenings beyond the walls, hoping to shield her from the evil that swirls in the heart of your home—praying that she will be spared from the same darkness that has claimed you and her father.

But you cannot shut your ears to his sudden cry—a scream so raw and full of anguish it rends the air, followed by the sickening thud of something heavy hitting the floor. An eerie stillness fills the air, as if time itself had stopped. The abrupt silence that descends upon the house wraps around you like a suffocating shroud, and you know that whatever has happened, you cannot ignore it any longer.

Panic seizes you, and you rush toward him, dread crawling up your spine with every step. What you find stills the blood in your veins. Beomgyu lies on the floor, his body writhing, his eyes rolled back in his head, froth spilling from his lips…

No. No. This cannot be happening. He cannot leave you after all he’s done. They will tear you and your child apart and take back what he has stolen.

You kneel beside him, your hands shaking as you try to steady his convulsing body. You cradle his head in your lap, your fingers pressing down on his limbs to keep him from hurting himself. Panic claws at you from within, but you fight against it, focusing on trying to keep him safe.

But then he suddenly stills, ceasing to move entirely, his eyes open, his chest not rising…

For a long, agonizing moment, he is as still as the dead—his body limp, unresponsive—and you fear the worst. Time stretches endlessly, each moment longer than the last. Then, just when despair begins to consume you, he drags in a loud, ragged breath—the sound of a man fighting to claw his way back from death’s door.

Tears well up in your eyes, your new world trembling around you, threatening to collapse and bury you under it. You are so close to losing everything again. 

Somehow, you manage to get up and drag him toward the bed, your strength waning with each step, but you don’t stop. You can’t, not until he is in your arms on your marital bed. You hold him close to you, desperate to soothe him, quieting the indecipherable grunts that rise from deep within his chest, and wondering if some being unseen is punishing him for his wickedness—praying that when it has exacted its revenge, it would be merciful enough to give him back to you. Because without him, you are lost. You know this now. He has made sure of it.

The night stretches on, a fevered blur of restless, haunted sleep. Your hold on him never falters as you grapple with the unending nightmares that ravage your mind, thrusting upon you visions of loss and torment—of what will become of you should he perish. The words of the servant girl and the man from the night Kai was sacrificed echo in your mind like a prophecy: they will burn you. They will burn your child. They will tear down everything Beomgyu has built, and take the pieces for themselves.

You are left delirious, caught between the fever of nightmare and reality, your mind unraveling in the space between both worlds. The heat of the fire in your dreams licks at your skin, scorching, just as the heat of his body against yours sears you in the waking world—both suffocating, both dangerous, yet every time your eyes blink open, your mind released from the world of nightmares for a moment, you pull him closer towards you—your nails digging into his skin, uncaring about the sweat building up between you, slick and stifling. You will not let him slip away into death for without him, you are doomed. 

You remain like that, wrapped around him, until he stirs—his body shifting slowly, his breath shallow at first, then deepening, growing more deliberate. His eyes flutter open, and when he looks up at you, confusion is clouding his gaze. His lips part, and in his drowsy state, he appears innocent—almost vulnerable. For a moment, you wonder if this is what he would have looked like, had you chosen him all those years ago.

“What happened?” He asks, his voice hoarse, and you frown, all the fatigue and dread in your body quickly morphing into blame. You grit your teeth, spitting out, “What happened? You almost got yourself killed.”

But instead of responding with anger, Beomgyu surprises you with a smile—a strange, disarming smile—as if you’ve just confessed your love for him. “Were you scared for me?” 

  You flinch back as if the words had burned you. “No.” You retort, but the denial sounds feeble even to your own ears as you attempt to push down the confusion welling up inside you. The fear of losing him is so overwhelming that it almost feels like care, almost burns of love... “You’re still a monster. But you are my child’s father, and I won’t let you lose yourself to the same dark powers that took away everyone I loved.”

His gaze darkens, though the edges of his smile don’t fade. “Then join me. Together we can command them, wield them to build a better world for our children.”

You recoil at the thought, the very idea of joining him and using the same power that had desroyed your life filling you with disgust. “I would never.”

Beomgyu tilts his head, his expression blank but his eyes burning—not with anger but with knowing. “You almost did,” He murmurs, his voice soft but the implication as sharp as a dagger. “The slab. The power. I felt it. You didn’t finish the ritual, but it touched you. Your soul felt it, and it yearned for it.”

“I didn’t.” You shake your head, but your voice falters, betraying the very doubt you struggle to suppress. “I didn’t give in.”

“But you wanted to,” He coaxes, his fingers brushing gently along your cheek. “Even if only for a moment. You felt what it was to wield true power. Not the whispers your mother left behind, not the child's spells your elders taught you—the real power they hid behind the myths of Gija and others like him, meant to keep you from seeking it, to keep you from growing too powerful for them to control. They lied to you, sweet priestess. They were too weak, too afraid to tame the power they feared, and so they locked it away. But I found it. I wielded it. And I killed them all with it. Just as you showed me magic all those years ago, I can show you real power."

You feel sick. Must he continue to remind you of the role you played in all of this? Have you not suffered enough already?

Your skin prickles at his touch, and you instinctively back away, your heart thudding in your chest. “I don’t want it.”

His smile is small, almost pitying. “Maybe not yet but you will soon enough. I can feel it. It brews within you, just as it did in me. I know you would do anything to protect our child. To protect me.” “You don’t know me,” You whisper, but you know it’s a lie. He knows you better than you know yourself. He has seen through you at every turn. He has understood your every fear,your every weakness. It’s how he manipulated you into playing directly into his hand.

He had given you the cursed nightbloomer, knowing its effect would cloud your mind and make you vulnerable, leaving you susceptible to his dark presence to latch onto you. He forced your family into performing the ritual, manipulating them into using their magic to give shape to the very evil force he had summoned, and tethering it to the world through the sacrifice of your father.

He led your mother down the path of dark magic, knowing it would weaken her, knowing full well that you wouldn’t have the stomach to aid her in her forbidden dealings. He allowed you to wed Kai, knowing it would carry the curse into his family and tear them apart from within.

He needed you there in order to frame them. He needed you to take Kai’s family name in order to use you to steal their crown. He knew that by giving you a child, he could bind you to him in a way that no other force could. He knew you would do anything to protect it. He knew that you would come to him in a desperate attempt to save it, and that this would be the final straw that would draw Kai out, forcing him into his trap.

Every step of the way, you have done exactly what he wanted. His hands have been guiding you, pulling the strings, and you never even realized it until now.

And he knows you would do anything to not lose another family. 

Beomgyu laughs. “I know exactly what you are. I’ve watched you bleed for people who would throw you to the fire without blinking. You want to hate me for what I’ve done, but you know I am the only one who has the power—the courage—to do whatever it takes to protect you. You know I would never forsake you.”

You know. You hate that you believe him. You hate that that is what you need. “I hate you.”

“You don’t. Not anymore.” He tells you, and as always, Beomgyu knows.

You don’t fight him when he kisses you. You don’t fight him when he strips your clothes off. You don’t fight him when he lays your body down and climbs on top of you, his cock easily slipping into your ready pussy—because it doesn’t take him long to prepare you anymore, your body responding to just a few touches from him—starved for any kind of human affection, even if it comes from a man who is no longer wholly human.

He leans in close, his voice soft, almost tender as he fucks you on his cock. “Let me in. Let me show you what’s beneath the power you fear. Let me give you something real. No useless protection spells. No more prayers to gods who will never answer. Blood for blood. That’s the only language real power speaks. And I know every word of it.”

His strength pulses within you, a force that intertwines with the pleasure his touch stirs. The more it spreads, the harder it becomes to resist, as your body gives way to the mixture of heat and power.

“I won’t let it hurt you. I only want to remake the world for us and our children.” He murmurs, caressing your breasts as his cock slips in and out of your fluttering pussy. 

You can hardly focus on what he is saying, the pleasure making your ears ring and your vision blur. You wrap your legs around his waist and your nails dig into his back to pull him closer, urging him to stop his rambling madness and just fuck you harder—to push you over the edge and quiet your loud mind. 

“Say it. Say it and it’s all yours.” But he insists, grinding his hips against yours in a way that pushes against your clit and makes your toes curl. 

You close your eyes, the heat and weariness overwhelming, and when you speak again, your voice cracks. “You can’t,” You say, a quiet plea for him to stop, because you worry that you won’t be able to resist him much longer. “I don’t want it.”

“Maybe not yet,” He repeats, his words a quiet promise. “But I’m a very patient man.” You want to deny it, to push against the corrupting pull he has on you, but you know it’s futile. You have no one but him now. No one but him and the child you have together. 

You have failed to save Kai. You will not fail to save your child. No matter the cost. Even if it might mean giving into him.

Beomgyu sits back on his haunches, taking your legs from around his waist and pressing your thighs to your chest, bending you in half so he can fuck you deeper, harder, the shift in position driving the head of his cock to brush against a spot deep inside you that has you gasping for air. 

“Oh gods, Beomgyu!” You cry out, and he fucks you harder, pushing against that spot again and again until your body erupts in flames. “That’s right, my flower, scream my name, let heaven and hell hear who you belong to.” 

Your orgasm rips through you as you scream his name, tears streaming down your face as he gives a few last thrusts before your pussy drives him to his own release, and he buries it deep inside you as if it’s his intention to give you another child. 

He gently wipes the tears off your face, replacing them with tender kisses. “Hush, my priestess. I don’t wish to see you cry any longer.” 

Your heart lurches in your chest—the memory of his anger still fresh in your mind. How he had seemed to feed on your pain, his fury an all-consuming fire. And yet now he’s the one comforting you. Now he wishes for your tears to cease. Now, he offers love and kindness as if he never set your world on fire. 

And it makes it hard not to give into him. No blood stains his hands tonight. No fire flickers in his wake. Just the dark love in his eyes and unfathomable power he offers you in the palm of his hands. 

______________________

A/N: the end. i wish this fic got more attention because I honestly think it's one of my best works and i had so much fun writing it.

if you've read all these parts, please leave me a message or a comment letting me know what you think of the ending. it would mean the world to me.

[luveline]

can we see more of kbd after everyone agreed another baby would be a good idea? 🥹

KBD —just another day at home with Steve and your kids. mom!reader, 1k

Baby five shows quickly. You smile at your body in the mirror, the roundness that’s taken your stomach, a proud baby bump for a small baby. 

It looks super solid today. Unmistakably pregnant, though you suppose you could just be super bloated. Good thing you have the tests to prove your case. 

“Steve?” you ask. 

He’s in the closet looking for a clean shirt. “Yeah?” 

“Wanna see my tummy?” 

“Always, but why?” 

“The bump is out.” You turn to the side, cupping the underside of your stomach to emphasise it. 

You didn’t plan on five babies. Four felt like enough for the time being, perhaps forever, and so baby five was a shock you loved. You weren’t trying but your protection clearly failed, as is the risk, and you love your family and the life you’ve made. You weren’t sure a fifth child would hurt that or not, but the moment you saw your positive test you knew what you wanted. And Steve’ll do pretty much anything he needs to give you what you want. It doesn’t hurt that he’s always wanted as many babies as he can have. 

“The bump is out,” Steve repeats, screwing his mouth up to hide how excited he is unsuccessfully. 

He comes up behind you in the mirror and looks down over your shoulder. He covers your hand on your stomach, his hair tickling your cheek. 

“Bump number five,” he says softly. 

“I was just thinking that.” 

“Girl or boy?” 

“Boy.” You turn your face to meet his eyes, warm brown and as dreamy as the day you met. You still remember your first kiss, how he’d touched your neck gently to guide you. It was more loving than you’d imagined. You had no idea before you met him how much affection could be shared in just one kiss. “I think it’s a boy, this time.” 

“You don’t usually guess,” he says, your faces incredibly close. 

“Four girls already. I like our chances.” 

“You’d love another girl.”

“Of course I would.” 

“It would be nice, though…” 

You hum. You close your eyes, and wait for whatever it is he’s going to do, content to be kissed or cuddled or simply leaned on. “I love you, honey,” he whispers. 

“I love you, too. What’s on the list today?” 

“I don’t think there’s much,” he says. You smile as his nose traces your cheek. “The only thing I can think of is finding Avery’s sweatpants for dance.”

His hand moves to your hip, turning you toward him, holding you.

“They’re in the dryer. Saw them earlier,” you say.

“It’s just the same as usual, then.” 

“Ave wants to make those brownies,” you remind him. 

“Yeah. Maybe we can go to the store? Dove needs a couple of new t-shirts, I think, and the pantry is pathetic. We’re a day away from running out of fruit slices. We can get brownie mix at the same time.” 

The girls will riot if you run out of fruit slices. They’re obsessed with them, warm pastries with fruit jelly in the middle that cause all sorts of arguments. 

He straightens your shirt out over your new bump and holds you by the hips. You expect it as he kisses you, and while his kisses don’t make you nervous anymore, you still love the feeling of his lips against yours, and the smoothness with which he turns his face and your lips part against his. Warm, sweet kissing. You hook an arm behind his neck and give in. 

When you’ve kissed one another dizzy, turned yourselves into gauzy flushed caricatures of a couple in love, you reluctantly part to finish getting dressed. You savour how it feels to put on your own socks, knowing that in just a few months you’ll lose the ability all over again. 

You’re checking you look presentable in the mirror when Bethie lets herself in. 

“Hello,” she says. 

“Hi, baby.” You wipe lint from your cheek. 

“Dad?” 

Steve again returns from the closet, but now he’s dressed, and looking for some hair mousse. “Hey, baby, what’s up?” 

“Are we going out?” she asks. 

“To the store.” Steve grabs her under the arms and puts her standing on your bed. “Wow, you got taller?” 

Beth laughs. Steve chucks her under the chin and returns to his mousse search. On the vanity, the baby monitor crackles, and then a cry gurgles from the speakers, echoing up the stairs. 

“Mommy!” Avery calls. “Wren is awake!” 

You laugh to yourself. “I’m coming! Thank you, Ave!” 

“She has a snot bubble!” 

“Oh no!” 

You ditch Steve. Beth decides to come with you, sliding off of the bed and saying, “Mom, mom, mom,” until you hold her hand. You make your way downstairs together, where Avery and Dove are eating chocolate covered popcorn at the plastic play bench in front of the TV, their colouring books open and brightly decorated. Wren cries weakly in her rocker to be picked up, nearly eleven months old and agitated. 

You wipe her snotty nose with a wet wipe stashed under the rocker. “Don’t cry, sweetheart, it’s okay, it’s okay, I’m getting you out.” You lift her up and sit down on the couch, holding her to your front. “That was a good nap.”

“Mama,” she says. 

You smile. “That’s me, sweetheart. Mama-ma.” 

“Mama,” she says, her tears quickly smoothed away. She grins at you. She doesn’t seem like she’s just been napping. 

“Hello,” you murmur softly. “Did you have a good sleep?” You stroke along her face and under her chin. 

“Mom, can we go to the store, too?” Avery asks.

“How did you know I was going?”

“You’re in jeans and it’s Saturday.”

“My little detective,” you croon, to Wren’s delight. She crawls up your chest to kiss you. You laugh under her, and more when Avery climbs onto the couch to hug your arm. Beth follows.

“Can I come?” Dove asks. 

“Of course you can!” you say through kisses. “Come up here and cuddle me. Come on, Dove. I’m putting all my love in my tummy for the baby, so I need extra.” 

It’s a cheap shot, but it encourages Dove into the couch, where she presses a kiss to your cheek. “I wanna push the cart,” she says. 

It’s so nice to hear her voice that you agree on impulse. “You can push, baby, dad’s gonna help you.” 

Speaking of her dad, Steve appears again with arms full of dresses, socks, underclothes and cardigans. “Who’s going first?” he asks.

It’s easier than it looks. Avery’s a big girl who doesn’t need help but gets it anyways. Beth stands still as a doll, and Dove likes when Steve buttons up her cardigan because he gives her one kiss for each button. 

He leans down to kiss you gently and take the baby. Always gentle, your husband. 

[jupiter-esque]

Jealousy, Jealousy.

Note: I tried Smth new w howl, pls pls lmk if u like it cuz I was half asleep as I typed this out (⁠・⁠∀⁠・⁠)

He's jealous.

It was only a quick pitt stop at the Wizard Pendragon's shop (one of Howl's many aliases) that set it all off.

A calm morning for the Pendragon's moving household was set to start and the shop needed a bit of upkeep as customers were running dry. So with the creaky floorboards all swept up and Calcifer warned to not misbehave, the clock-like magical device that hung next to the door signalled with a resounding ding and a switch in colour indicating where the castle had teleported to.

There was a long day ahead but you couldn't be more pleased.

As the hours went on Howl worked in rhythm with you as tinkering laughter was heard throughout the shop and bubbling mixtures were stirred harmoniously in cauldrons. There was a calm air to your love as he flitted around you with hands briefly coming to couch and maybe even teasingly squeeze at your hips as he passed.

"Pass me the dandelion leaves ?", He asked while focusing on the lilac fluid seeping from the side of the potion bottle he was pouring into.

You nodded with a kiss atop his freshly midnight-dyed hair - courtesy of sweet Sophie, you know she didn't mean it but you couldn't thank her more for the darkened charcoal colour that had seeped into his golden locks- and off to the ingredients section you went muttering past bottles of all sorts.

Coming back empty handed with no dandelion leaves in sight you let your eyes wander to his sprawled out form in the chair by the fire, Howl only looked up and smiled a bit disappointedly before getting to his feet and tugging on his boots.

You could already see long black feathers creeping out his cloak, predicting his speedy mode of transport for the errand.

"I'll be back in a moment sweetheart, not to worry. Markle will take care of everything."

Knowing full well the small child would've dosed off by now as he'd left to play in the fields while you both worked, you were left to manage the quaint store while Howl flew out for after a dizzying kiss goodbye and mumbles of bringing you wildflowers to carefully twist into your hair.

Then and only then did a customer decide to come in.

He was a polite young man, easily flustered and a soldier of the royal palace you noted due to the bluish uniform donning his slightly hunched physique.

He was nervous.

You grinned trying to ignore his demeanour so that maybe the pink in his cheeks would lessen.

"Ma'am, the queen has requested for a simple sleep draught from the makings of your shop.", He coughed, "please." came soon quickly after he'd recollected himself and pulling at the yellowed buttons holding his vest together.

You hid your smile behind the worn glove that your sweet partner had embroidered a pathetic attempt of a small daisy onto which you very much cherished, it felt like you were talking to a mouse rather than a fully grown man.

"Why of course."

The man...boy even, settled into a lone seat to watch you set up, eventually gaining courage to invite you into bubbly conversation that you found very boring very fast hence weren't all too interested in so short sugared-up answers were all he received.

The 'banter' he thought he was receiving on your end was honestly faked curiousity.

It seemed he was quite dim. Too dim for your liking.

His puny attempts to indirectly flirt were unoriginal and simply unwelcome.

Just as you were starting up your potion with another lame probe on the topic of the weather about to leave the man's mouth, your beloved hurriedly came in. Cheerily he was chattering on about a bird he'd been able to fly up close to in in his bird-like form.

"Oh, you should have seen it's-", Howl interrupted himself to stare at the man sat atop the brass stool across your apothecary tabletop, "feathers?"

His demeanor immediately switched.

Gone was the gentle, patient magician you were so accustomed to. There stood an intimidating wizard and he oddly felt much taller, much more powerful than a split second ago.

This was the Howl Pendragon you'd only ever heard about through word of mouth, not the one that childishly insisted to cuddle up on your ill-fitted couch or cast silly spells to jokingly make your hair stick up in different directions.

No. This was a whole different feel of a person and it seemed like the magic was almost spilling out of him in waves, you could almost taste it's electric crackling force in the air.

He felt more confident, cocky, ready to rip into this poor man down to his basic self-worth.

You liked it.

His lips twitched.

"Darling, who is this?"

Howl's voice was always deep and smooth as silk, just as it was right now, yet you were no fool and could pick up on the the roughened edges of his tone.

But it seemed like the young soldier took no notice of the emotional state of the suddenly very upset wizard in his presence. He only turning around to bow deeply in respect while stuttering out a greeting and an explanation of his presence.

Howl only had a curt nod to give as a reply and you could tell he wasn't very ecstatic have a new face in here.

If he could roll his eyes at the 'competition', they'd roll all the way to the back of his head to see his brain.

The next few minutes were tense as he only grinned tightly and came to your side to place a very domineering palm on your corseted waist pulling you in closer to his warm body, sending a clear message.

"I'm sure you've got this one little potion down love?", He said with his eyes sharply glancing to the young man that had very clearly receded back into his shell at this point.

Howl didn't even need to say a word, didn't even need to properly look at the guard for him to metaphorically back away. But of course he had to ensure he got his point across, so what else could he do but dip down to deeply kiss your lips, he was only seconds away from basically pushing his tounge into your mouth if you didn't stop his dramatic live-performance.

Nodding satisfied with himself, you huffed whispering 'show off' while he stepped back to tend to his dandelion-leaf-less potion.

You couldn't even look up at the barstool your customer sat on anymore with the intense blush covering your face and you could only imagine the agony of embarrassment he was going through.

With the potion sealed up and a-way-over-the-actual-price bag of coins thrown at the counter, he promptly escaped out the door not even bothering to check for any change.

Shrugging you turned back to glare at Howl who was innocently blinking into space.

"Was the last part really necessary."

He slowly smirked, tendrils of his magic swirling past your shoulders.

"Whatever do you mean?"

You quickly found yourself within his grasp, pressing kisses to your knuckles as an apology.

You knew he wasn't sorry at all.

Loud laughter could be heard from a distance as Calcifer moved the castle along to wherever your hearts desired.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[kaitlyn-imagines]

Hi sorry if this is real late i have a request for sinners where its the reader/oc(whatever your more comfortable with) is the daughter of annie and smoke (daughter!reader/oc dies like annie and smoke and reunites with the cute little family in the after life) or stack and mary (daughter!reader/oc ends up getting turned and lives with her parents after shes turned) and how it would progress through the night at the juke joint

Aww this is such a cute ask 🥺❤️ Familial bonds can be so, so special, I hope I did this justice...

Warnings: Blood, descriptions of gore, horror, death, vampires, and violence... It follows the beats of the movie, so spoilers if you haven't watched it Parental! Annie & Smoke:

The last time you’d seen your father, you’d been a child. You were old enough to vaguely remember his face, but young enough to feel robbed when he left for Chicago. You tried to make sense of his leaving, but struggled to. Your mother tried to reassure you that it wasn’t your fault he left…but that he’d loved too deeply and lost too much.

You didn’t fully believe her until the day Smoke returned, bearing flowers for the grave of your baby sibling and whispering tender things into Annie’s ear.

You wanted to be angry with him…but you were just so happy to have your father back. You loved him infinitely more than you resented him for leaving.

And so, you go along with your mother and help him prepare for the opening of the Juke Joint. You enjoyed getting to spend time together as a family, setting up the glasses at the bar and making up for lost time.

You’d never seen Annie smile so wide as she and your father danced to the sweet music. You felt giddy to have your family whole again.

It had been the happiest day of your life—until it wasn’t.

The white strangers on the doorstep of the Juke Joint soured the mood with their eerie uncanniness. Your parents were rightfully wary…for after not much longer, the carnage had begun.

As Annie took charge and went about arming the party with garlic water and wooden table legs sharpened into stakes, you dutifully obeyed her every order. You were well-aware of your mother’s capable and experienced work in hoodoo, and were more than able to aid her however she needed you.

But the night unfolded into a bloodbath.

Good friends died. Hideous monsters, mere echoes of the human form, swarmed you in teeth, claws, and bloody gore.

You felt the earth freeze over into an eternal darkness the moment your mother’s spirit left it. You screamed in pure agony, clawing your way across the wooden floorboards to where your father had a stake plunged through her chest. Tears streamed down Smoke’s face, the expression of a broken man.

You didn’t make it more than a few feet before you were swept up into the jaws of a vicious creature, all torn flesh and bloodied fangs. You scratched at the beast who had once been a man, trying to tear free where he’d swallowed a chunk of your shoulder.

You wrestled it to the floor, and felt a glass shatter under your weight. The beast writhed and screamed as its skin burst into blisters and violent boils, before it finally released you and ran, scratching chunks out of its own burnt flesh.

You gasped and gurgled as you laid in the puddle of blood, glass, and garlic water. Your hand trembled violently as you felt the missing chunk of flesh at your neck, and it came away drenched in scarlet. You were dying…

Your father, god where was Smoke? You cried out for him, cried out for your dead mother, but you were alone in chaos around you.

You didn’t have much time…you could feel the dizziness overcoming you as you rapidly bled out. You found in that moment you were not scared of dying…but you were terrified of never seeing Annie again.

And so, with your last bit of strength, you wrestled the gnarled, sharpened piece of wood from your belt. You lacked the energy to stake yourself, so you let gravity do the work for you. You held it straight up against the floorboards and rolled yourself onto it, piercing yourself through the chest as your weight bore you down, an agonizingly slow descent.

Time fell away from you. Pain became numbness before even that too disappeared. You were weightless. You were nonexistent. Just a dim flicker of consciousness in the wide expanse of nothingness.

But then you felt a hand enclose around your own, and your eyes opened once more. Sunlight and warmth kissed along your skin, now unmarred and clean. You felt incandescent joy as you beheld the soft brown eyes of your mother.

You clung to her in a tearful embrace, whispering over and over how you loved her. You wept at the sight of the baby at her breast.

You welcomed your father come morning. And for the first time, you were a family, entirely whole and together again.

And love was all that remained.

Parental! Mary & Stack:

You always shared your mother’s anger towards the man who’d left you both behind. He had abandoned you, discarded you like pieces of trash to escape north to Chicago.

And then he had the nerve to show his face again, many years later, when you’d already grown up without any help from him.

Mary had come home from the train station raving about Stack, about how she’d seen him and how they’d fought. It was your idea to go to the Juke Joint together to confront him.

You needed to see his face, just once—the face of the man who’d left you and your mother behind.

Little did you know, this entire time he’d been trying to protect you both from the cruelties of a world that would never understand. The way he looked at you when he first saw you—he recognized his features upon your face. His expression was one of unbridled affection, and it was as if you’d hung the moon and stars.

And so, despite wanting to hold onto that ugly resentment for a little longer…you forgave him. For the first, and possibly only, night of your life, you could laugh and dance freely together as a family.

You let him twirl you as you giggled, watched him love your mother openly—knowing that with the dawn, this would all be gone.

Only, it wasn’t…for the three white strangers had come a-knocking at the door…

They’d been dismissed by your uncle, but your parents felt there had been an opportunity missed. So, Mary kissed you on the cheek and left the Juke Joint to go speak to them outside.

Only, she’d been gone an awfully long while… So, you went looking for her.

The air was cool and humid as you stepped outside. The sound of music spilled out from the Juke Joint, adding to the ambience of the night. You called for Mary, hoping to find your mother somewhere nearby.

But as you rounded the last row of parked cars, you saw her face down in the gravel, a pool of blood around her head and shoulders. You screamed, careless as you ran to her side. You fell to your knees and the sharp rocks bit into the skin there.

You sobbed, cradling her head to your breast as you tried to tuck the blood-matted hair away from her face. She was dead, you knew it deep in your soul.

But then her eyelids fluttered, and she stirred with a soft mumble. You held your breath, sobs still wracking through your body as you leaned in, trying to hear her faint breathing… and suddenly her jaws were around your throat and your cries were cut short.

You enjoyed sharing everything with your mother—there was a brand-new intimacy as you shared one heart, mind, and soul. You would never have been able to live happily as a family come dawn…but now you had an unimaginable opportunity. You could all be together, forever, without the heartache and suffering of society’s ire…

All you had to do was save your father… and how could he resist Mary, when she was invited back inside, looking so pretty? When she coaxed him into the backroom, promising one last night worth remembering?

It was pure bliss to be of one heart, knowing that your time together never had to end…

You escaped into the night amidst the chaos and bloodshed that soon overtook the Juke Joint.

Doomed to live forever in the shadows of the night without the promise of another sunrise…but even the darkest existence sounded like paradise so long as you could be a family.

[meadowfics]

little sibling

park gyeong-seok x pregnant!reader

the both of you tell na-yeon that she will be an older sister

you’ve always been healthy, rarely catching a cold, never needing more than a day to shake off any sickness. lately, something has felt different.

all exhaustion has lingered in your bones, nausea creeps up at the worst times, and dizziness makes the world tilt when you stand too fast.

at first, you chalk it up to stress, maybe even something viral, but when the symptoms persist, you finally go to the doctor.

the moment they tell you, your mind blanks. pregnant.

the word feels too big, too surreal. you sit there, wide-eyed, hands pressing against your stomach as if waiting to feel something different.

the doctor hands you a list of prenatals, recommends rest, but all you can think about is how you’re going to tell gyeong-seok.

he’s been through so much already. raising na-yeon alone, watching her fight through cancer, standing by her side every second of the way.

you came into their lives when na-yeon was still healing, still learning how to be a child after spending so much of her early years in hospital rooms.

now, after two and a half years of loving both of them with all your heart, you’re carrying another piece of this family inside of you.

when you finally tell gyeong-seok, your heart pounds in your chest. you don’t know how he’ll react, if he’s even thought about having more children.

the moment the words leave your lips, his eyes widen before softening, hands reaching out to hold your face.

“we’re having a baby?” he asks, voice thick with emotion.

you nod, swallowing hard.

“we are.”

the man's smile is slow, warm, overwhelming. then he laughs, shaking his head in disbelief.

“i never thought… i thought na-yeon would be my only child.” his hands drop to your stomach, hesitant but tender.

“but now we get to do this together.”

tears burn at your eyes as he presses his forehead against yours. this is real. this is happening.

the two of you decide to tell na-yeon in the sweetest way possible... a cake! ever since she got treated for her cancer, from the long months of treatment that took away so many normal childhood joys, she’s been obsessed with desserts.

every time she gets to have something sweet, her entire face lights up, as if making up for all the times she couldn’t.

the cake is simple but meaningful. on the top, in soft pink frosting, the words read: you’re going to be a big sister!

na-yeon, now four years old, claps her hands excitedly when she sees the cake, but her little brow furrows as she tries to read the words.

“what’s it say?” she asks, looking between you and gyeong-seok.

you kneel in front of her, taking her small hands in yours.

“it says you’re going to be a big sister, na-yeon.”

the little girl's eyes widen, round and filled with wonder.

“a big sister?”

you nod, biting back the lump in your throat.

“you’re going to have a baby brother or sister.”

for a second, she just stares at you, processing. suddenly, her entire face breaks into the biggest smile you’ve ever seen. she throws herself at you, wrapping her little arms around your legs, holding on so tightly it nearly knocks you off balance.

your heart nearly bursts.

she’s happy. she’s really happy.

you bend down, lifting her up into your arms, pressing kisses to her cheeks as she giggles. her small hands cup your face before she pulls back just enough to look at you.

“what are you gonna name it, momma?”

the word stops you in your tracks.

momma.

she’s never called you that before. you’ve never expected her to, never wanted to push her into something she wasn’t ready for. here she is, looking at you with those trusting, loving eyes, calling you the one thing you never realized you were waiting to hear.

your arms tighten around her as tears slip down your cheeks.

“we’ll pick a name together, baby,” you whisper.

gyeong-seok steps forward, wrapping his arms around both of you, kissing the top of na-yeon’s head before resting his forehead against yours.

“I love you three so much,” he murmurs.

masterlist

[jarofstyles]

Flower 3

Hi my loves! I am so excited to give you guys an update on our flower petals. Don’t kick my ass for the ending xoxox

Flower masterlist

Check out our Patreon for early access to part 4 and 180+ exclusive writings

WC- 5.3k

Warnings - talk of kink, mega sexual tension, daddy kink if you squint really hard hehe

Her head was still dizzy even after sitting in the front seat and letting him out the bags in the back. She did her job as good passenger and placed the coffees in each cup holder, but she was spinning. Her hand still tingling and warm from how he held it through the parking lot like it was common practice, like he was her boyfriend. 

Would he want to be?

He’d already said he didn’t do hook ups. Gia had pointed out that he wasn’t normal around her and Sarah had agreed. Fuck, he just spent over two hundred on her and didn’t bat an eye. Maybe he did, and maybe she was itching to find out what sort of questions he’d want to ask. 

Weirdly, she wanted him to cross lines. He was always so polite and sweet, despite his dirty jokes at times when he was tipsy. With her, he was usually the poster child of a gentleman. He took care of her and did all sort of sweet things to her, leaving no question about if he cared about her or not. . The words he had said on the car ride here about a guy being sweet out in public and a freak in the sheets echoed around her head as he climbed into his seat, making the thoughts start to dissipate. 

“Aren’t you jus’ the best little passenger princess.” He snickered, putting the keys into the ignition. Her eyes tried to ignore the way the little smirk on his face bade her stomach buzz, but it was a hard thing to look past.

“I could have spit in your coffee. You never know.” Her tease was met by him picking up the cup, looking her dead in the eye as he took a sip. Oh. Well then. “You sicko.” 

“Maybe.” He shrugged his seatbelt on after his little display. “But turning the radio on doesn’t mean you are safe from my questions.” 

“I’m not trying to hide from them! I just don’t like awkward silences and I’ve no clue what you’re gonna ask me so I was making sure we weren’t in danger of one.”she sniffed, pointing her nose up a bit. It was a bit of an act considering she was, indeed, trying to hide a little bit. In fact, she was incredible anxious to know what he was wondering about. “Go on and hit me with one.” 

“Alright. When did you start reading those types of books?” 

“Those types.” She scoffed at the phrasing. It was a relatively tame question with a not so savory answer. “Make me sound like it’s something crazy. But the answer is way too young. Probably 14, 15. I checked one out at the library. To be fair, the first time I didn’t realize it had anything like that in it. I just liked the cover and it seemed nice. One BDSM adjacent book and unsupervised internet access search later and I was finding out all sorts of phrases I didn’t need to know.” It was hard to say if she regretted it now, but she did think it was a little early for that. Then again, most guys her age then were doing their own exploring so it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. 

“Hm. Interesting… did you ever get caught with one of them at that age? I’d imagine your parents wouldn’t love that.” No, they most certainly would not. 

“Thank god, no. It would have been mortifying. Now I know that my mother has her own little stash with the shirtless guys and the historical romances though, so it wouldn’t have been like she had a leg to stand on anyways.” That was something she was still thankful for. “Did you ever get caught watching or looking at something?”

From the wince on his face, he absolutely did. “Yeah. It’s just as bad as you think it is. It was my dad, which is only marginally better than it being my mother, but he didn’t seem very phased. I think I was more embarrassed than he was. He never brought it up, but I remembered to lock the door each and every time after that.”

“Oh, that’s rough.” Y/N hissed in sympathy. “My parents worked a lot so it was easy for me to just explore things I shouldn’t have back then. Since you’re older than me, was it online or the magazines?” She was teasing, but he rolled his eyes. 

“Magazine, actually. I’m not that much older.” Five years, but it was enough to make a difference in how they grew up. “Don’t tease me. I see the age gap shit you’re reading.”

“It’s just fun and games.” She assured, brushing her hand over his shoulder playfully. Again, initiating touches. “Besides, I do like an older man so I’m not gonna make too much fun. Considering you did see the books I grabbed.”

He had been very interested in them, it seemed. Interested enough to hover and let her body feel his heat against her back, the burn still there if she let herself think about it too long.

“Yeah, actually I was gonna ask- which one are you the most excited to read?” It was a nice question, middle of the line- but she had a feeling he was trying to gage something.

“Hm. Reaper, that’s the biker club bad boy protecting her from a stalker one, or the Highest bidder. I’ve heard so much about both of them. I know the smut is good in Reaper because I’ve read snippets, but the jury is still out on the second one.”  They had both come highly recommended so she was excited to see if they were going to live up to her expectations. “I do like a good dark romance. It’s kinda hard to explain to people because some things you can enjoy as a fantasy but know in reality it isn’t really ethical, but they won’t get that.”

“I do get it, actually.” He nodded, keeping his eyes on the road. “S’kinda like if you roleplay in bed or something. No one thinks you should actually be in a student professor relationship, but the premise of it is hot. A lot of it is like… power balances, kinda.” 

The ease Harry had of understanding sort of took her off guard. Y/N knew he was intelligent and had spent plenty of time with him to know that was the truth, but a lot of people she knew didn’t quite understand the layers there was to it. 

“Yeah, actually. It is a little similar to roleplay, I hadn’t thought too much about that as a comparison.” Now she definitely would. However… the fact that he had brought it up raised a whole new crop of questions… along with the fact she could see a slight shift in his body when she mentioned it. “Is that something you’re into, then? Roleplaying?” 

Her eyes watched as he tugged on his lip, using his one hand to steer the wheel while the other seemed to be self soothing a little bit. His forearm looked particularly good in this light, the veins standing out slightly as he squeezed over the leather. 

“Mm, outed myself a little with that one didn’t I?”

“A bit.” She giggled, crossing her legs. The question remained on what it was that he liked to roleplay? Was it the teacher thing? Nurse? Doctor? Something more risky? Now that she’d allowed her brain to entertain the not so safe for work thoughts about the man, it was difficult to filter them.

“I do enjoy it, yeah. It’s fun. It doesn’t need to be crazy or anything, but it’s fun to spice things up. I haven’t done a ton of it but it is an interest of mine. I feel like you can explore things with it being safe and being with someone you actually trust, so it’s easier to actually enjoy it.”

The explanation made perfect sense. Partially she was relieved that he seemed so intelligent when it came to sex, considering…. 

“Safety is big. One time a guy decided to choke me but he didn’t know how to properly do it.” She winced at the memory. “Bruised my neck. He felt really bad afterwards but it was obvious he hadn’t done any sort of real research into it and it was never discussed beforehand. Do I think it’s hot? Yeah, but not when it feels like someone’s about to crush my windpipe.” 

“Christ.” Harry sighed, exasperated at the story. It looked like he genuinely was astounded by how bad the guys she had been with had behaved. “I feel like that’s kink 101, innit? You learn how to spank and choke without causing the real damage. Fuck, M’sorry that happened to you. Did it make it hard to enjoy it again?” 

“For a little while, yeah. Like you said before, hookups aren’t really my thing anymore either but when I was more into the scene I made sure they either knew how to do it or didn’t do it at all. Sucks, considering it can make you feel ten times better.” It depended on the person for sure, but for her? The head rush made it so much better when she came. 

“Yeah, I can only imagine. I’ve never really had a horror story like that for me. Anyone I’ve been with knew how to do it and I figured it out early on, but I did have one girl who tore up my back really bad. Not in the sexy way with marks for a few days, but one got infected and it was a whole thing. I like pain, but not something that’s gonna actively harm me later. I don’t think she meant to do it either but sometimes those nails are sharp.” 

Y/N squirmed slightly in her seat as he let out that little bit of information that she clung to. Humidity between her thighs wasn’t exactly something she had planned for today but it seemed like Harry had a manual on how to make her squirm. “First, I’m sorry that happened to you too. I feel like you’ll be able to know you’re doing too much and it shouldn’t ever be tearing up actual skin- unless you’re into that but obviously it wasn’t for you.” She winced, knowing it must have been a bitch to take care of. No one could properly do much for a back thing on their own. The whole reach around thing- a mess. “You can tell me to fuck off this time, but are you into both? The choking, then being choked too?” There was no better way to ask it without being direct, even if it made her feel a little weird to say. 

In the drivers seat, he bit his lip to stifle a grin before sneaking a look at her. “What? You think you’re the only one who should have that sorta fun?” Relieving the restraint, he let himself smile at her before his eyes took the road again. “I do, yeah. Both. It just feels good, doesn’t it? The head rush sort of thing. It’s intimate if you do it right. For either person, it can feel like… I dunno, like you’re theirs and they’re mine in that aspect. If it’s done right, it can be the thing to push you over the edge. Trusting someone with their hand around one of your most vulnerable points, it’s a bit thrilling- intimate.” 

Y/N knew Harry had some experience, knew he would probably be good in bed just in how he handled her in general. He was attentive and sweet, checking in with her, but unafraid to do what he wanted. He’s dragged her into his lap and rested his chin on her shoulder, easy to ask her for a cuddle and to play with her hair- but he’s been respectful about the whole thing. Part of her wishes maybe he’d maybe be a little disrespectful at this point. 

There was no doubt in her mind that Harry knew how to fuck. Just from these conversations alone, she knew he could handle himself. But knowing he was pretty dirty, the knowledge of him liking choking on both fronts, it made her feel hot under her collar. “Mm. Nice to know.” 

The response hadn’t been though through, because there were definitely connotations to that- but she let the words tumble out of her mouth without thinking. Her eyes widened as she looked down at her lap, going to open her mouth to respond something else, but the man beat her to it. As usual. 

“Is it?” He hummed lightly. “I’m glad you find it amusing.” 

“I mean, it is.” She had already dug herself a hole. “I just always thought it would be you doing the choking, I never considered the other way around”. 

“You’ve thought about it before, huh?” The smirk was audible in his voice, making her cheeks burn. God damn it all and her slip ups. Harry made her flustered and nervous rolled into a slightly bold ball of dangerous curiosity. 

There were a few ways she could’ve gone about it. Denial was the biggest one, but she’d already gone this far. Didn’t she want to push past the friendship boundary? The way her throat felt tight with him so close behind her at the bookshop while he asked her about her books, how she’d placed his hand on her inner thigh for him when they were out last night, she wanted to go further past the established boundaries. 

“A few times.” 

Her reply was breezy, though she certainly didn’t feel it. The swirling anticipation was bubbling in her tummy, a fluttering bundle of nerves expanding heat through her body. The atmosphere in the truck had been a little tight before, but it had been slowly morphing into a sexually tense mess. 

“Mmm. Nice to know.” Mirroring her prior response, she chanced a look at him. One hand still on the steering wheel, vein still making an appearance in his forearm making an appearance from the sunlight glazing inside the truck. But this time, his stubbled chin dipped into a dimple, a light smirk coating his lips and he was rubbing his hand over his denim covered thigh. His hands, god his fucking hands. They were sexy, sexier than she knew a man’s hands could be. He worked with them, so sometimes he had a few cuts or bruises on them, but he kept his nails trimmed and they were clean most of the time she saw them. The cross tattoo stuck out against his skin, tucked between his thumb and index finger. 

Impulse control didn’t exist as her finger reached out to trace said ink, running the tip of her nail over the symbol. “I dunno if I ever told you how much I like your tattoos but- I do.” She admitted lightly. “I love tattoos. I’ve always wanted to get some but I’ve been afraid.” 

Harry cleared his throat, stopping at the light to look down at her finger running back and forth on the top of his hand. The nail lightly running over the black ink on his sensitive skin, her eyes taking in the same thing. There was no move to remove his hand, letting it stay still as she continued the hypnotic movement and allowed her eyes to move up to his face. 

“Yeah?” His voice was slightly hoarse, showing that she did indeed have some effect on her. The confidence was building as the car ride went on, each little confirmation that he had affections over her making it easier for her to feel the motivation to keep going. Keep poking and prodding to see what would get him to snap. “It’s uh, it’s like…” The satisfaction of making him lose his train of thought had her a little drunk with power, moving her fingertips to his ring to twist it around. “It’s not that bad, for me. I like pain, but it’s like… irritating, maybe. There’s areas you should go for a first time, nowhere directly over bone. My sternum hurt but like… yeah. S’not that bad. I’ll take you to my artist if you want.” 

“Would you?” Y/N wasn’t stupid. She knew her cadence, the sweet way she said it would elicit a specific type of reaction from him, but that’s the point. “That would be so sweet of you, H. Maybe I’ll take you up on that. I think…” The trail of her fing moved up and down his hand and towards his wrist. “You do a lot for me, you know? You’re so kind and helpful, you help me out at my places and I think maybe we don’t hang out outside of that as much as we should. Do you know what I mean?” 

“I agree.” He nodded along to her statement. “Well- I hope you know I don’t mind helping you or anything, cause I don’t. I really like doing things for you. It feels nice.” That could be a loaded statement if she thought about it too long. Harry powered through it though. “But I would love t’hang out with you more individually. I know what you’re sayin’. S’a little annoying when we go out and people interrupt our conversations.”

Y/N giggled at that because, well, they probably shouldn’t be having those conversations of philosophy at the bar and then get annoyed the friends they came with interrupted them, but it seemed like Harry didn’t really like sharing her attention much as it was. “I agree. So rude.” It was obvious she was teasing him a little, squeezing him lightly before her attention was caught by him turning into the car park. “Oh, shit. We’re here already?” 

Part of her was sad because the sexual tension was so delicious and she had been a little hopeful he’d snap, but she really was hungry. 

“Yeah, but it’s okay. We can keep talking inside, then I’ll bring you home.” There was another pause as she could see him trying to figure out how to say something else. “Uh, or if you wanted, you can come over and swim for a bit? You left your swimsuit there the last time I had the cookout and I’ve been meaning to give it back.”

Y/N felt herself resist the urge to squeeze her thighs together. There was that preexisting knowing that if she went over to his place there was a very little chance they’d actually go swimming. It was hard not to get on her knees and nudge his prick right into her mouth even in the car, but maybe this was what edging was like. “Sure! Everytime we hang out at my house you find something to do.” She raised an accusatory eyebrow at the man. “Something to fix. Maybe I want all the attention for once.”

“Oh yeah?” He met her eye with a brow raise, making her realize she had accidentally been suggestive… but fuck it. 

“Yep.” She popped the last letter of the word before opening her car door and slipping out. “Let’s go! I’m hungry!”

——

The tension wasn’t exclusive to the car.

It didn’t break when they walked in, it didn’t break when they sat down to order and it didn’t break as they ate. If anything, Y/N was being a tease for one of the first times in her life. Brushing her foot over his leg, keeping her eyes on the menu when they browsed it, sucking some of the chocolate from her milkshake from her fingers, bumping their feet together, it was thrilling. 

Harry’s eyes were dark, almost constantly on her. Y/N could feel his stare when she looked away, either to her food or when she had walked to the restroom to refresh herself. Her poor panties were completely useless now, but taking them off would do her no good. There was no doubt that this whole trip together had been working her up, but Harry had no problem in making it worse. 

After insisting on paying the full bill, Y/N walked a little bit ahead of him to try to get to his truck- only to be stopped by a hand on the back of her neck. Firm and controlling, he slowed her down to his pace. “I told you, I like t’open the door for you. So stop bein’ a brat because I didn’t let you pay and just say thank you.” 

And, oh- fuck. Y/N could have whimpered from the way he talked to her, rounded eyes looking up at his with her lip poking out slightly. His eyes were a darker shade of green and his jaw set in a way she hadn’t seen before. Had she been moving her hips a little more to see what he’d do? Yeah, a little. But it had to be a culmination of the fact that she’d been working him up all day and purposely acted up to see his reaction. 

“Sorry, daddy.” The apology held some sarcasm as they approached the truck. “Didn’t know I had to- oh!” Y/N choked out a gasp as she felt his hand release her neck, instead twirling her hair around his fist and stopping her straight. Her breathing hitched as she felt his lips come closer to her ear, the closeness of the man that had tormenting her poor body all day without even touching her cunt making her shiver. 

“Don’t call me that unless you want to be bent over my fuckin’ lap. Lots of attitude today from you, baby.” Baby? Oh, shit. The threat, the heat of his words, the grip, all of it had her knees feeling weak. “You’ve been a goddamn tease all day and I’ve been playing nice, so unless you want t’see my already thin fucking patience snap, I suggest you behave for me. Yeah?” The girl took too long to answer, apparently, because he tugged on her hair again to make it sting a little bit. “Asked you a question.” 

“Y-Yeah. I can.” Her voice weakened by the shock and pure arousal, she couldn’t form more than that as he unwound her hair from his fist, demeanor changing instantly with a soft kiss to her cheek. 

“There we go. Amazing!” He lightened up, opening the car door for her. “Wanted to hear that story about your neighbor and their Chihuahua, so why don’t you tell me that on the way to my place?” 

Y/N didn’t know how he switched to easily, how he wasn’t shaky and pressing her against the bench of his truck to show her exactly how impatient he could be, but she assumed he just had more control than she did. There was no more questioning in the grand investigation on if Harry was interested in her or not. It was safe to assume he was, and she was going to use every bit of that confidence to her advantage when they got back to his place. 

She’d behave for now. Let him help her into the car and tell him the story of the yappy thing that liked to eat baby carrots from her hand, be a good girl until they got to his house and the door was closed behind them. After that, though? All bets were off. 

——-

Harry’s house was a lot more rustic than hers was. 

It resembled a log cabin which really did attest to his whole lumberjack appeal. Contractor, wore flannels and tee shirts, his hair was a bit unkempt sometimes and he had that facial hair he grew out and shaved whenever it felt right. The wraparound porch was something she was eternally jealous of, along with the huge stone fireplace and step down living room. He had impeccable hardwood floors and an open concept bottom floor, skylights in the den and a back deck with a view of the mountains that would make anyone jealous. His pool was built into the hillside, his deck housing a jacuzzi and lots of seating as it sprawled down the length of his house. 

What was even better was knowing he’d put most of the grunt work into it. He bought the house and remodeled the whole thing, added onto it, renovated every nook and cranny while keeping the integrity of it. He worked with his hands and it was one of the sexiest things about him, she found, and that itself had her clenching her thighs as he opened the front door with her bags of books hanging off his arm. 

They were not light but he carried them like it was a bag of feathers. Another thing that made her feel out of her mind with hormones. 

Her brain hadn’t been able to stop repeating the way he had reacted to her playfully calling him daddy, how he had helped himself to her hair and took control of her. How he’d been sweet with her after, giving her cheek a chaste kiss before helping her into the car and listening intently to the story of the neighbor and her dog before letting the music turn up and them sit in their own silence. 

She wondered if he had been thinking about it too. 

Once the door was open she was happy to follow him inside, the smell of lemon hitting her in surprise. Usually it smelled like pine and something a little more musky. Like he could read her mind, he placed the bags on the foyer bench as he toed off his boots. “Had the housekeeper come by earlier today, it’s the cleaning stuff.”

“Housekeeper?” Y/N blinked a few times. “Since when?”

“Since 3 months ago. It’s twice a week, a woman comes by to clean the house for me. I do the normal upkeep but m’usually busy, y’know? Don’t have a lot of time to do the deep clean- and if I’m honest, I’ve got no desire to.” He laughed, hanging up the over shirt he brought in from the truck over the coatrack. 

“Ah. I don’t blame you. That’s the only thing I find chenging about having my own place.”

She could technically afford a housekeeper but it wasn’t something she needed. “I kinda like doing deep cleans. I do them on Sundays and get everything ready the week. If I had your place I’d be excited for it. It’s so beautiful in here.” The compliment was an understatement. If she could have any place, it would be this one. 

Sure the long driveway was probably a little scary at night and being in the woods would take a little more getting used to, but she’d seen the sunset from his deck. It was breathtaking. 

“Well, you’re welcome to do that whenever you want.” He teased, taking the keys from his pocket and putting them on the hook. One of his toolboxes sat on the floor next to the shoe rack, slightly open. It was just so… Harry of him. “Can I get you something to drink?” 

“No, I’m okay.” She shook her head, looking back up at him. His broad shoulders and his pretty eyes, arms crossed over his chest as he looked right back down at her. It was easy for the heat to come back between them as she took a step forward, reminding herself it was the time to be brave. Her second heartbeat between her thighs was nearly demanding it of her. “I wanted to ask… what was that all about? In the parking lot?” 

Harry winced slightly, looking away from her as a blush covered his cheeks. Not the reaction she’d expected, but it was interesting nonetheless. “I… that was out of line of me. I shouldn’t have touched you like that. I’m really sorry, Flower. It was inappropriate and I don’t-“ his eyes went back up as her hands covered his forearms, lightly tugging to get his crossed arms to drop. 

“Harry…” she sighed. “Why are you apologizing? Hm?” It was her turn to get into his personal space, stepping into his form and running her hands up his arms.

Those built, inked, perfect arms that reminded her just how strong they were all the fucking time. Her hands clasped together behind his neck, allowing herself to lean into his body as she swallowed her pride and gave herself permission to go for it. To just fucking do it. “I didn’t complain, did I? Didn’t tell you I was uncomfortable?”

“No…” he said slowly, hands frozen by his sides as he looked down at her like he was slightly confused. Almost like he didn’t believe it. 

“I wasn’t uncomfortable. I looked like that because when you grabbed my hair and spoke to me like that… it let me know what kind of man you are.” 

“And what kind of man do you think I am?” His voice dropped, eyes hooking on to hers as his hands slowly dropped to her hips. The grip was light, curious, but his palms were warm and large and fucking perfect on her body. 

“I think you’re the type of man who can fuck me right. You’re so sweet all the time, H. So nice t’me, you make me feel safe and appreciated and beautiful… you always compliment me and refill my drinks. But I didn’t realize you don’t treat the other girls like me. You don’t grab them and put them in your lap. You don’t kiss their necks. You only do that to me.” It was a relief to know that much.  “And I’ve been a little oblivious to the fact you’ve been trying to touch me differently, but I think that’s enough of that. You liked to hear about my books, paid for them, paid for my lunch… kinda acting like a sugar daddy today, hm?” Her hair fell over her shoulders as she arched her head back, the firm wall of a man keeping her up as she did so. 

“I didn’t do it for you to touch me, Y/N- I promise.” He assured quickly, which was sweet. She already knew it though. 

“I know you didn’t. You did it because you’re a provider. You help me in so many ways, you’re the best man I’ve ever met. You’d do it for me over and over again, even if I didn’t catch on because you’re just good. So fucking good to me, and today….” Biting down lightly on her lip, she let out a quiet groan. “Today you drove me crazy. Kept touching me lightly and didn’t press too much, gave me all the answers I wanted and were so respectful about my own. It just let me know that it wasn’t stupid of me to like you. You’re the type of man who can take care of me. Aren’t you?” 

The question was answered with a low groan and his mouth falling on hers. Full and soft, he caught her lips with his own and exhaled against her as he hummed. Fucking finally.  Pulling apart with a soft click, he let out a laugh of disbelief. He couldn’t believe he was kissing her, that she was saying all of this- and neither could she. “If you let me, I will. I’ll take care of every-fuckin-thing you could ever want, baby. You’ve been driving me crazy since we first met, and I was patient but… you’re right.” Another kiss melted her, the grip on her hips not so gentle anymore. “I am a provider. So let me provide you with the pleasure I know you need.”

[azullumi]

LAST NIGHT I DREAMT OF THE STARS AND YOU, PT. 1

premise — because that’s just how they are; alternatively, “the type to” trend with hsr characters. characters — ruan mei, veritas ratio, aventurine, and robin content tags — gender-neutral reader, established relationship, fluff, slight angst, not proofread, word vomit in some parts, 1.6k words ; headcanons

note from me — seasickness took me out and the fact that i have a 9 hr road trip tomorrow is already making me dizzy. i hope i’m asleep for the 3/4 of it,, also this has a pt. 2 which i’ll upload later on !! anyways i wrote this in between my vacation and trip and in between the long-ass separate fics with sunday and aven so sorry if it seems rusty or out of my style 🙏

RUAN MEI, (lies in between the line of a good lover and a bad lover) the type to be unable to express her affections for you through words and settles with small and simple gestures that she has observed and seen from everyone around her; having never understood “love” and never knowing how to correspond with such, she’s left silent and confused like a lost child in the wake of it. She’ll find herself staring you quietly, memorizing the lines of your face and how it creases and contorts into different expressions, studying each crevices and edges of the parts that makes up your being to bury you in her memory, and there’s a smile that tugs on her lips every time her gaze falls on you. Oh, she wishes she understood what it all meant (she simply and devastatingly adores you).

RUAN MEI, the type to subconsciously write your name on paper whenever she’s distracted. it’s a small habit she does, one that makes her smile whenever she notices the letters spelling out your name. She has ruined, tainted several of her papers, even important ones, with just a single word, a set of letters that composes of what makes warmth seep into her chest when her mind drifts into the thought of someone—you.

RUAN MEI, the type not understand the underlying reason behind her actions—why she spends the time and makes the effort in between her busy schedule and pile of papers to make sweets for you, why she lets you do her hair despite how messy it often turns out when you braid it and how she can never find the strength in herself to “fix” or disturb the state of your work, why she always seek for the warmth of your hands whenever she’s feeling uneasy or stressed, why she always lean to your shoulder or to your touch when you caress her cheek, and everything. It’s a puzzle board of missing and scattered pieces, unable to comprehend the full image of the mystery—and yet, she still delves into the enigma of her feelings that is intertwined with your existence. Maybe one day she’ll come to know it all and maybe it will be the time when she can finally be honest to herself.

VERITAS RATIO, the type to want to know every single thing you and remember all of it. Perhaps it’s the bare minimum, perhaps it’s something that he just does. “They don’t like that,” He would say when an arrogant fool would even try to give you (or do) something, and he’s there, witnessing it all, knowing the things that you prefer and like. He knows what flowers that you like, knows your favorite color, knows the way you prefer to sleep, knows the small habits that you do when you’re nervous or scared or happy, knows every little detail that paints the whole of your existence. Isn’t it simply just lovely when someone desires to know you from the inside and out? Even if it’s just a little bit, he feels more closer to you in this way.

VERITAS RATIO, the type to be sweet and reassuring towards you (through words and actions), even though he may come off as mean, blunt, or rude towards others. Sure, he may call you an idiot sometimes but he’ll never go past that nor reach the line of degrading and distasteful remarks because he never wishes to hurt your feelings; if ever he did, he’ll apologize and tell you it’s not his intention. “Fool,” But the affection that edges into the tone of his voice cuts the thread of disdain that sews into the word. Oftentimes when texting and it’s easy to misunderstand the tone of one’s message, especially his tone, he’ll reassure you that he didn’t send it in a way that he’s angry or scornful: “The ‘Ok’ that I sent is not a mad ‘Ok’, I am in a rush and could only type that out. I’m not angry.”

VERITAS RATIO, the type to entertain your questions no matter how stupid it can be; he’d give you the answers every single time. He doesn’t mind being treated like a walking encyclopedia or dictionary if it’s you—he’d hate it if you were going to ask someone else instead of him (although he probably never told you that discomfort). I mean, you have a well-known member of the Intelligentsia Guild, someone who parallels a genius, just right at the tip of your fingertips, why bother asking someone else?

AVENTURINE, the type to like listening to the sound of your breathing, the sound of your heartbeat (to listen to the sound of you blinking, to listen to your hands soothe). It’s comforting, in an odd way, and he never tells you but it helps him fall asleep—watching the rising and falling of your chest, seeing your calm face wrinkle ever so often while you sleep. He keeps the sound of your heartbeat close to the pocket on his chest, weaving the rhythm of it to his pulse, and before he knew it, the dawn will come in quiet solitude.

AVENTURINE, the type to be always on fight-or-flight mode. Perhaps it’s the way that he grew up, perhaps it was the harsh and cruel environment that he’s in, but he’s always on guard, seemingly on defensive mode as if danger lurks at every dark corner. His shoulders are always tense, his hand either hidden or playing with the ring on his finger, it’s like he never can’t seem to relax himself even when he’s in the comfort of your arms. It follows him everywhere, trailing behind his feet, and forces him awake at night—he doesn’t even know where the fear, the anxiety, is coming from, he just knows it’s there. One wrong step and his thoughts will come crashing down like cold downpour, one wrong move and you’ll come to leave him. Sometimes a little reassurance comes a long way and it’s all he needs when his mind is being tormented. (He will learn to live with it, even if he can never seem to understand or know it. He will come to know peace as if it’s all he had in his hands when the sun first held him).

AVENTURINE, the type to immediately smile after a kiss. It’s utterly affectionate; parting, staring deeply into one’s eyes with his cheeks dusted with a certain color and he’s grinning—warmth beams from his expression and there’s a certain feeling that intertwines into his gaze and he knows it’s love because it’s all he feels whenever he looks at you. He’s the type to laugh into a kiss, feeling ticklish all over his bones as if your hands are ghosting the sensitive parts of his skin, and you’ll ask him, “What?” but he’ll only answer with, “Nothing.” He’s not drunk, the ache of wanting simply swells up in his chest and all he can think of is how much he adores you.

ROBIN, the type to try and make time for you. Her schedule is always packed, filled with all kinds of events and tasks that she needs to do. It’s overwhelming, everything feels overwhelming for her and it’s hard to know which one she should prioritize first not when she has a lot of things on her hands. Sometimes she feels lost, feels the weight too heavy on her shoulders, feels like her feet are tied to the ragged earth, feels the cage closing on her. She tries so hard to be the perfect lover for you, to become someone that will reach beyond your expectations; she cradles that perfect image, broken in all of its edges, that were constructed for herself close to her chest even if it feels like a knife to her heart. But really, all you need is for her to be herself (not the star that everyone admires and wishes to reach) and sometimes, that’s all she needs to hear from you—that she doesn’t have to hold on to the shattered chains when the coldness of the metal reminds her of what she has to carry.

ROBIN, the type to go on all kinds of dates with you, silly or not, and even matches clothes with you. She’s usually the one to make the invite to match, thinking that it’s cute and the both of you rarely ever has time like this so why not make the most out of it; who are you to even say no when she’s beaming at you so warmly? She has all of her options laid on the bed, displayed on clothing hangers, asking you what you’re going to wear or what color do you want. It’s lovely, sweet, seeing her like this and you could only pray to whoever aeon is listening that nobody comes to ruin the day the both of you rarely have for each other.

ROBIN, the type to bring you all kinds of souvenirs and gifts from her (universal) tours, sometimes having bought too much that you don’t know what to with some of them; the type to send you letters every time she’s away so that you won’t worry for he, especially knowing what happened last time, the type to always try to keep in touch and keep you close no matter the stars between you and her. She’ll ask for one thing that you own that she can carry with her person, making a promise that she’ll come back and return it—the item a testament to her vow—, but for the meantime, she’ll keep it so she has a little piece of you everywhere she goes and she can say that you’re always there by her side.

DRUM ROLLS PLS *dundundundundun* special mention to the one and only beloved feli @dr-felitas !! i think i owe you a lot of end notes so here i am :3 also i’m sorry if i publish this and i still haven’t responded to your messages (if you have sent me cause im on dnd to avoid my dumbass from checking and looking at the phone during car rides knowing that i get motion sick) ANYWAYS i would like to begin this with i love you mwamwa, you’re one of the sweetest and most wonderful souls i have ever met and anyone who tells u otherwise will get a boulder thrown to their head 🫵 im glad to have met you, that my anti-social ass went ahead and messaged you despite the fact that we only talked once or twice AND IT WAS OVER ASKS OR COMMENTS BUT YEAH !! idk what or where i’ll be if i hadn’t done that; maybe not replying to my friends idk (again im sorry if i take business days to answer i sometimes get busy or i sometimes dont have the energy :3 i hope u still love me hahahaha… *slides down the wall*) again, i really appreciate and adore you for everything. you are a brave and kind person and i only hope for the good things for you. don’t be too mean or harsh to yourself 🫂 know that i’m always here to listen to you no matter what you’re saying. you’re never a burden to me and i hope you’ll come to see just how you shine and radiate with so much warmth and kindness, it’s like love itself is found in you. ily lottss mwaa <33

sunday, himeko, welt, gallagher, and jing yuan next !!

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[dawndelion-winery]

I Met You Once, I Loved You Twice

Celebrity au! Their persona, and then their true self, it seems like you were meant to love them regardless

Ft. Childe, Furina, Kaveh, Scaramouche (Wanderer), Wriothesley

[Idol! Childe, Actress! Furina, Racer! Kaveh, Artist! Scaramouche, Athlete! Wriothesley]

Childe:

You knew him before the fame, before the glitz and glamour; when he was just Ajax

And as horribly sappy as it sounds, you've loved him since day 1

Falling in love with Ajax was like slipping on ice while you're hiking up a snowy mountain

You get a little too caught up in the scenery, a tad bit too comfortable being around him

And suddenly, you fail to notice the patch of ice and slip, tumbling down the cliffside, your affection for him snowballing into something greater

And so you support him through his dreams of becoming an idol, writing to him while he's a trainee, making care packages for him

Anything for your Ajax

And when he finally debuts...

Oh boy, all the fans calling themselves his partner? They could dream on

You called dibs on him before any of them even set eyes on him

Besides, how could they even fall for someone just from watching them perform?

That was answered for you the first time Ajax excitedly insisted you watch him in the MV

You're not exactly proud of your reactions to seeing him come up on screen, but he seemed happy enough about it

Falling in love with the idol Childe was like drowning

Holding your breath, choking and flailing

It's dizzying until you finally succumb, which doesn't take long at all

And once he's converted you into a fan?

He's such a little shit, whipping out the idol persona for a smidge of free fanservice just to get you flustered at the most random times

And he's back to your sweet old Ajax in seconds too, acting like nothing's amiss

Furina:

The world's greatest actress finds that the world is her stage

Ever perfect, ever entertaining, her splendour is unparalleled

It was impossible not to adore such craft, and you easily fell in love with her acting just as one would fall asleep, gently and blissfully without even realising

Immersing yourself in her works, you develop a sort of fanaticism, delving deeper to find her interviews

She's beautiful whether or not she's filming, you find

So much so that you can't help but wonder how much of it is true

And so when you do, by some trick of fate, meet her, you feel compelled to ask

It's a dark, foggy evening, and you're taking a brisk walk along the forest

Who would've thought you'd bump into her then?

And so you strike up conversation, eager to interact with your favourite actress

And when you broach the topic of her facade, you notice she gets a tad bit defensive

So you apologise and back off, meaning well, hoping to see her again

And you do: these late walks become a regular thing, and slowly, you start to know her for who she really was

It's almost like meeting her for the first time all over again, and it very well may have been if you don't count the act as meeting her

Falling for Furina, your friend, was like taking an ice bath

Frigidity seized you almost instantly, and yet, as you stayed longer, the more pleasant it felt, almost soothing in a sharp sort of way

Kaveh:

Not just anyone could race in what was known to be the pinnacle of motorsports

And Kaveh? He was brilliant, the light of Ksharewar, the face of the team

And frankly, a very charming face

Often regarded as one of the prettiest on the grid (if not the prettiest)

He's really raking in the viewers

Imagine people seeing *1* edit of him getting out his his car post race and suddenly they're invested in races

Ofc being a new fan, the gatekeeping you have to put up with is ridiculous

"I bet your favourite driver is Kaveh because he's handsome."

As if he's not one of the most talented to ever grace us with his presence?

He gets so involved with the car's engineering honestly he should just build the car himself too atp

He is speed on the track

And falling for the light of Ksharewar through the television screen is an adrenaline rush in and of itself

So bumping into him in real life was just breathtaking

You sincerely hoped you didn't come off as some crazed fanatic with the way you rambled on about how much you loved seeing the way he pushed the car to its limits and everything

Overall it was a great once in a lifetime experience and you planned to treasure it

Until it was just a once in a lifetime thing and you seemed to bump into him a fair bit ("Hey aren't you that fan that completely went off about the car that time?")

Once you'd started talking to him more frequently, the rush of meeting him started to fade into less of a frenzy, and more of a bubbling excitement

Falling in love with Kaveh was like taking a breath of fresh air and letting the chilly breeze fill your lungs, a crisp clarity creeping through your senses

But from the faint flush of pink on his cheeks, perhaps the opposite was the case on his end

Scaramouche(Wanderer):

You've heard of artists with depression, now what about artists with borderline personality disorder?

The first time you'd met him, you didn't even know it was him

You'd been at an art gallery admiring the works signed off by Kunikuzushi when a stranger stood beside you

"You've been staring at this sculpture for a pretty long time."

"I like it. I don't think I've ever felt such yearning embedded in stone."

The stranger didn't respond, but nodded in acknowledgement and continued to stand beside you

Falling for Kunikuzushi was like falling in love with shadows

It was no more than a feeling, a yearning, a desperation much like what he portrays in his works

Everything you knew about him seemed to drown in sorrow, loneliness, and self destruction, yet having never met him, you were sure this was only one small aspect of his being

Which left you ever curious

Curiouser still was that same stranger with the odd navy blue hair who always seemed to happen to bump into you at these exhibitions

Without fail, he'd prompt you to speak, as though digging for your thoughts on each piece

Not that it bothered you, the stranger felt familiar, and had become a welcome face

Warm was his presence and gentle was his gaze, yet a detached coldness kept you from him

He was beautiful, you noted, like moonlight, with all it melancholic splendour and grace, like the paintings and sculptures you loved so dearly

And so you found yourself falling for a beguiling stranger whose name you knew not

You loved him like the sea loves the shore, always reaching for him, but pulling back in uncertainty

"You're oddly silent today," he notes.

"I was thinking of how much this piece reminds me of us. It's weird, isn't it? How I'm seeing things, drawing links to some stranger."

"Not really. I made it like that for you. We don't have to be strangers."

Wriothesley:

Baseball player Wriothesley who has his fans swooning at his charming grin and chuckle

A real heart stopper (he could beat me with his bat)

Fans adore him regardless of whether they're simps (they are) because he's good at his job

The only people who hate him are fans of the opposing team

The way his arms flex with every swing, in this essay I will-

He's built like a tank and plays like one too

So obviously you'd expect him to be a pretty confident kind of guy

And he is

He's a charmer, a smooth talker, and painfully level headed

So why was this beefy cannon suddenly bashful over your incessant praise?

Just look at him, which of his fans haven't fallen completely smitten?

Falling for the star player was like stepping into a big city for the first time, and being wowed and blinded by the lights and massive skyscrapers

But Wriothesley was a soft person at heart

And oh so very vulnerable to affection

For every compliment you uttered, he'd readily deflect it, but when they just didn't end?

Boy was he at a loss

He did end up treating you to coffee, so that was nice

But he was very obviously avoiding your gaze which he deemed to raw for him to meet

Yet it is that exact raw adoration that he can't quite dismiss

He knows how superficial fawning can be, yet there's an undeniable gratification when it comes from you

So he keeps you at arm's length, letting you in ever so slightly, but never too close despite not pushing you away

Falling in love with Wriothesley was like planting a seed and nurturing it as it grows

The germination takes place out of sight, the results unnoticeable until it finally sprouts as a fragile sapling

Discouraging as it may be, with continued work, it does get easier

And when he's secure enough to trust you entirely...he promised to return all your efforts tenfold

Taglist: @ryuryuryuyurboat @yinyinggie @mx-kamisato @chaosinanutshell @haliyarobin @irethepotato @boundedbyfate @favonius-captain @aqui-soba @tiredsleep @sadlonelybagel @mastering-procrastinating

[scorpioriesling]

Invisible String - Part 1

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Eris x reader

Warning(s): light angst, some involving a child being upset. Please be advised; future parts might not be suitable for all audiences. Proceed with caution.

Summary: You'd taken the nanny position for the royal family over a year ago, not expecting what would come of it or how close you'd grow to the child you cared for. Things became tough for Eris when his wife left him and his daughter, and he found it increasingly harder to raise Riley himself. He soon realizes, you've provided a lot more than the typical job description duties for his daughter... and maybe for him, too.

SR’s Note: I added in the advisory so that younger / uncomfortable readers won't begin the series without knowing or expecting potential risks in content to come. For those who enjoy or look forward to content as such -- get excited! Nonetheless, I hope readers will enjoy this series that came to me in a dream one night as I wait for the poll results from this week's THTH post to come through. (; Much love to all.

Tags: @cynthiesjmxazrielslover (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

It was like any other day in the West Wing of the Forest House, this weekday the same as many others you’d experienced here over the past year or so that you’d been employed here. The warm glow of the autumn sun painted the cherrywood floors in an amber glow; so beautiful and red, but nothing compared to the red head of hair that bounded over to you on little legs.

“A picture!” Her sweet voice rang out, and you turned to peer down into those big, round eyes of hers. She smiled up at you, her arms outstretched with a piece of paper at the end of it. You gasped, setting down the butter knife and bending down to her level.

“Oh my goodness Miss Riley,” you said and she beamed, her tiny, four-year-old teeth peeking out from behind her lips as you admired her drawing. It was similar to many you’d received before; a crooked drawing of you, holding hands with a crooked stick drawing of Riley. You knew who was who, of course — she made sure to draw a little crown atop her head, obviously.

“You keep it?” She asked, and you smiled at her, nodding in approval.

“Oh absolutely I’ll keep it! This is a work of art!” You said, and she jumped up and down excitedly, twirling in circles before she eventually got too dizzy and stopped. She hadn’t noticed you’d stood, resuming her lunch preparations as she recentered her gravity.

“Y/N I’m hungryyyyy,” she said, and you smiled softly to yourself, placing the top slice of bread on the sandwich in finality.

“I don’t suppose you’re ready for some lunch, hmm?” You ask, and she races to the dining room, stopping at the edge of her chair and throwing her hands in the air. You set down her plate, rolling your eyes at her silly rituals. She’d done this since you’d begun working for her father, insisting on your help though she was more than capable of needing it now.

“Riley — you know you’re grown enough now to get in your chair—“

“Pleeeeease,” she begs, her arms still above her head. “I like when you make me fly.”

You sigh, smiling as you lift under her arms and place her in her chair, her eyes wide as she takes in the plate before her.

“Ham! Yummm! My favorite; thank you, Y/N!” She says, smiling at you before grabbing her little fork and digging into her sliced peaches. You fold your hands, gazing at the small child in wonder.

“You are very welcome Riley — and very good job remembering your manners.” You praise her, and she continues to eat her food in contentment.

You’d spent the rest of the evening doing many of the same activities you’d do with Riley most evenings; playing dolls, braiding her hair how she liked, walking around the palace. Some days, she would ask to play outdoors — this was one her father was a bit iffy on, but since the day was nice, you figured no harm no foul. After a while in the gardens, you’d gotten Riley down for a nap, braided her hair, played dolls, and were cleaning up dinner when the front door to the West Wing opened.

“Daddy!”

As if on cue, every doll and stuffed animal was abandoned on the living room floor, the sound of little footsteps pattering across the cherrywood in anticipation as quick as the beats of your heart in your chest.

“Bunny,” Eris’ silky soft voice floated through the foyer and you rounded the corner in time to see him scoop his daughter up, her laughter ringing out as he peppered her cheeks with kisses.

“Daddy! Tickles!” Riley laughed, and when he finally relented and set her down, she ran right over to you. His gaze met yours, his professional yet gracious smile meeting yours in greeting.

“Y/N,” he said.

“Hello,” you said. No matter how many times you’d seen him come home, you’d never quite figured out a way of greeting friendly enough, yet still professional, but not too weird to use in front of Riley.

“Daddy, I made a drawing,” Riley beamed. Your heart sank a bit, realizing this repeat situation as if it happened yesterday. She’d drawn you so many photos, so many pictures of you and her together — but the fridge you’d used daily to make lunches, dinners, snacks — it was bare.

“Well, also,” You caught Riley’s arm lightly as you bent to her height, pausing her from running to grab her creation. “We brought in a surprise, right?” You reminded, thinking of the few Honeycrisp apples the two of you had picked earlier for her father from the grove as a surprise. Riley contemplated for a moment, then it looked as though a lightbulb went off in her head and she nodded.

“Daddy — I be right back 'kay,” she rushed out before darting for the kitchen, and Eris chuckled. You stood, picking at your sweater as you watched her run off. When you looked to Eris again, he looked to you in the same moment.

“You have no idea,” he started, pausing as if to find the right words as he stepped further into the room. “How much you being here really helps.” He focused on you then, and you shifted under his intense gaze.

“I mean… I… no where else I’d rather be, right?” You smiled lightly, and Eris loosed a breath, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m actually, really, glad to hear that, uh,” he chuckled. “Well, I um,” he cleared his throat as Riley appeared again in the entryway, hands behind her back and a grin on her face.

“Okay daddy, here is the surprise, okay?” She said. His brows rose, and he crouched down as she stepped closer, finally revealing a leaf, bright red in her little fingers. His mouth opened in shock, and she doubled over in a fit of laughter, Eris watching in admiration. You watched the precious girl, her wild sense of humor even at the age of four. You’d wondered, under his professional exterior, did she get that trait from her father, too?

“Alright my dear,” Eris said finally, standing and picking the girl up to carry in his arms. “It appears that it is your bedtime, hmm?”

You were glad he was here to do it this evening — many nights, if her father wasn’t home, you were the one at the other end of her protests, having to explain away his absences and assure her that he would, and you promised, come kiss her on the head when he got home.

You decided to finish scrubbing the last of the dinner dishes, laying them to dry when footsteps behind you caught your attention.

“You always do more than I’ve ever asked Y/N, seriously. I can’t thank you enough.”

You glanced quickly over your shoulder, trying not to look to long at the Autumn Court heir watching your every move.

“It’s nothing, really — it’s only dishes.”

In a matter of strides, he is beside you, leaning against the very counter you’re working at.

“You know what I mean.” He pauses, looking down before continuing. “I don’t know what Riley…” he sighs. “When Selene left us, I… it was, very tough. On all of us. Riley, she… I don’t know how I could’ve done it without your help.” He says quietly. You silently set down the plate you’d been washing, looking at him with knitted brows.

“Don’t ever feel bad for something someone else has done to you,” You say, your heart clenching at the reminder of his wife — well, ex-wife, you supposed — leaving him just over a year ago. Leaving him behind and her daughter.

Your chest ached.

“She made a poor decision. Riley is a lovely little girl, she’s learning so much, and truly she’s a joy to be around. This job isn’t work, for me; I really, really enjoy spending time with her, Eris. Don’t worry about it.” Your eyes meet his again, and you swear you see silver lining them. He takes his bottom lip between his teeth, biting it before turning to face you.

“Live here full time, then.”

You set the plate on the drying rack, reaching for a fork and dunking it into the sink.

“Why would I need to? I’m already here five days a week-“

“But you could be here seven, look — please, at least just for a few months while I settle a few things with the other courts. I just need someone here for Riley in case I’m not here as often, and I will absolutely prepare living arrangements for you, and pay you extra, and-“

“You’re being serious?” You say, your hands stilling in the sink water. Eris stares at you pleadingly. You look down at the water. Sure, you took this job and basically it became your life. Did you have much going on outside this job? No. Was your lease almost up anyways? Yes.

You sigh, taking the fork out and laying it on the drying mat. You wipe your hands on your apron, extending one to Eris. “Fine, it’s a deal-“

He takes your hand, pulling you in and embracing you instead. The thin material of his button down does not leave much to the imagination, every toned muscle beneath…

His hands slowly rub up and down on the small of your back, and you feel your cheeks flushing at the rather intimate contact. You wrap your arms around his neck, his voice nearly inaudible next to your ear as he whispers,

“Thank you.”

:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Within a week, you'd completely uprooted from the ramshackle apartment you'd been renting on the outskirts of the Autumn court and moved yourself into the West Wing. This place felt like more of a home to you anyway, its inviting ambience, the warmth that radiated from the forest surrounding it; the people inside, especially the little girl you'd grown to care so much for over the past year.

"Y/N's moving innnn, Y/N's moving innnnn," Riley sang, skipping down the hallway barefoot in another one of her play-pretend princess dresses. She had a closet full of real gowns, hand-sewn by the seamstresses that worked in the palace themselves -- however, the little girl preferred the itchy costumes to the real ones reguardless.

"I am almost done, I promise, then we will play," you huffed a breath, sweat clinging to your tank top as you crossed the room once more. Eris was gracious to give you your own space, but... so much of it? You weren't used to having a bedroom the size of an entire apartment, let alone one so ornate. Not to mention, one just down the hall from his master room.

You tried not to think too hard about it.

"Y/N! A cookie?" Riley called, and you sighed, looking around at your remaining boxes. You'd just have to tend to them later.

"Riley," you said, rounding the bend and approaching the kitchen where Riley stood near the counter. "It's nearly dinnertime -- you know we can't-"

"Pweeeeease?" She pleads, her round, honey-colored eyes looking to you with such agony. You sigh, scooping her up and sitting her on the counter.

You hang your head between your shoulders, shaking it lowly. "Riley, your father is gonna kill me..."

She squeals in delight, wrapping her arms around your neck and pulling you close, her little body buzzing with excitement.

"I love you!"

Your heart warms, and you hold her tight, brushing a hand over her soft strawberry-blonde locks. Its moments like these that you wish you could show Eris, your "boss", your "employer" that this job really doesn't feel like work. You truly enjoy what you do, and his daughter is a magical little thing.

"I love you too, Riles." You say, and she releases you, looking over her shoulder toward the jar of red velvet cookies with a mischevious grin. You reach over, taking the lid off and plucking one from the container. Her legs kick against the cabinets in anticipation, soft giggles of glee coming from her as she watches you break it in half before her.

"Start with half, okay?" You say. She nods, taking it from you and immediately putting it in her mouth. You can't help but smile, watching as she motions to the other half.

"Share with you?" She says. You place a hand on your chest at her words, but hold the cookie out to her anyway.

"Riley, that is very kind of you to offer to share with me! Thank you," she takes it quickly nonetheless. "But, I'm not very hungry right now. I think you should have it."

She nods. "Okay." It's devoured in seconds, the only evidence a few crumbs on the counter. Riley giggles as she watches you brush the crumbs into your hand. Her little pointer finger comes to her lips.

"Shhh," she says, and you grin at her. "Don't tell daddy, okay?" You nod in agreement.

"Okay Miss Riley," you say, dusting your hands off over the trash can. "I won't tell him."

You went for another walk around the Forest House, played tea party and braided hair all before dinner that evening, which was proving to be rather intriguing to the little one that day. She watched as you cut carrots, questioned every spice and oil you'd dumped into the pot, and offerred her assistance more than a few times.

"Is butternut squash soup your favorite?" You ask. Riley cocks her head to the side, playing with a loose string on her Princess Belle dress.

"Hmm... no, it's okay though." She decides, and you continue stirring over the stove.

"I wonder what has you so intrigued in cooking this evening?" You ask, and she sighs, sitting on the wodden floor with her legs stretched out before her.

"I want to do something," she groans, and you nod, trying to understand what she is getting at.

"Mhm, what do you mean by that?"

"I want to... can we do something fun tomorrow?" She asks, and you shrug.

"Well, I like to think we have a lot of fun everyday together, wouldn't you say?"

"Yesssss," she lets out an exasperated sigh. "But I want to go somewhere fun with you. Me and you. Oh, and daddy. When is daddy coming home?" She asks. You chew the inside of your cheek, glancing to the wall clock. He'd routinely arrive around or just after Riley's bedtime -- 8 PM. However, since asking you to move in last week, he'd been coming home later and later. It seemed that he really did need your help with whatever he had going on, the gravity of it much bigger than you could understand.

"I'm... not sure, Riles." You answered, and she huffed.

"He's never home to play with me." She frowned, and you glanced down at her.

"Well, that's not true, he-"

"He never even comes home for dinner." She crosses her arms, her angered expression softening a bit. You set down your spoon, tucking your hair behind your ears as you kneel down before the upset child.

"Riley," you say calmly. "Your father just has a lot going on right now sweetheart, okay? I promise he loves you very much-"

You stop talking when you notice a silent tear roll down her cheek, and your heart threatens to break right in half inside your chest. You reach for her, and she turns to putty in your hands, allowing you to pull her close and hold her in your embrace.

"Oh, Riles," you say soothingly. "Please don't be upset sweet girl," you plead. She sniffles, her cheek wet against your skin above your top. You run your fingers along her hair, quietly comforting her until she eventually calms down. She pulls back, looking up at you with her puffy, but dry eyes and it takes everything in you to offer her a smile as your finger brushes lightly against her cheekbone.

"There she is," you say, and she smiles a little. "Miss Riley is back again." She grins, folding her hands in her lap as her gaze locks just beyond your face. She reaches out, her tiny fingers grazing the shell of your ear before her brows knit and she reaches for her own.

"Yours are not... no... you have..." she searches for the right word, the events prior not seeming to matter now that they've passed. You guide her fingers to the top of her ear, and then gesture to yours.

"Pointy," you say. "Your ears are pointy. Mine are different -- they are round." You explain, and she nods, processing the terms.

"Po-in-ty," she says. She looks at your ear again. "Why do you have... uh..."

"Round?"

"R-ou-nd," she continues. "Ears for?" She asks. You smile softly at her, those innocent eyes having no idea the life she has in store for herself to come.

"Because Riley," you explain. "There are different types of people; some people, like your father and-" you stop, not even wanting to approach the subject. "...your father is going to be a King someday. You, well, you are a Princess." She smiles and nods as if this is already a known fact to her.

"Then, there are people like me. I'm just... well, I'm me." You shrug. "I'm just a fae like anyone else." Riley frowns.

"You are a Princess too," she says, and you chuckle.

"No, Riley, only when we play dress up and I borrow one of your crowns. You are the Princess in real life." She stands, her hands on her hips.

"Y/N is a Princess," she says, looking at you eye-to eye. You raise your eyebrows, not knowing where this is going.

"Riley-"

"Princess lives in the castle." Riley says, beginning to jump up and down. You nod, reaching up to turn off the stovetop heat under your surely burnt soup.

"Yes, but-"

"You live in here with me!" She squeals, twirling in circles. You shake your head.

"Riley, I only live here because your dad asked me to move in-"

"Y/N is a Princess! Y/N is a Princess!" She starts chanting. You sigh, making to stand and remove the soup pot from the stove.

"Riley, you are the Princess! There's only one Princess!" You say loudly over her shouting, and she stills, her devilish grin only cause for concern.

"Then... Y/N is a Queen." Riley gasps, her little hand flying to her mouth as though she's just thought of the greatest idea in the world.

"Y/N is the Queen! In a castle! With the Princess! Is me! and, and, and daddy! he's, he's-" she pauses her jumping and chanting, her hand splayed on the wall to catch her breath.

"Ohmygosh I have to go draw-"

"Ohhh no ya don't," you say, setting down her bowl of soup on the table in front of her and plopping her into her chair before she could take off down the hallway. "Dinner first, young lady."

She groans, quickly shoveling soup into her mouth. "Ughhh, okay, fine." She grins, looking sidelong at you. "I will eat your delicious soup, my Queen," she says in a silly victorian accent, and you let out a laugh at her rediculousness. She giggles too, continuing her comedy. "I will eat, and eat and eat, I will eat because I am a Princess, and you are a Queen, and soon, the King will be home, and we won't tell him about the cookie-"

The two of you are too busy giggling furiously over her sillyness that you don't hear the front door swing open, or the footsteps leading inside. It's only when you hear his whiskey-smooth voice that you turn from the dining table, your face flushing at the sight before you. Much to your delighted surprise, the handsome red headed male leaned against the dining room archway had arrived home much earlier today than either of you had expected.

His small smile was his only greeting, his tousled locks and few undone buttons revealing the exhausting day he'd surely had before he said; "I wasn't aware that I had a Princess and a Queen dining at my table tonight?"

:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Part 2