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partially-controlled-chaos · 7 months ago

Text

Indulgence

Pairing: Halsin x GN!Reader

Rating: T

Warnings: No spicy moments, but implied horny Halsin.

Summary: Halsin has always struggled with indulging in the more pleasurable aspects of life. However, with the shadow curse lifted and your group now on the road to Baldur's Gate, you and Halsin find time to indulge in a bit of fun and a sweet treat before retiring for the evening.

Word Count: 9.3K

an: It took me too many weeks, but I finally have the fully fleshed out story related to this poll and this little WIP! As it stands, I only have plans for this to be a oneshot, but considering I went back and forth far too many times on if I wanted to add a spicy scene to this, I might write a quick spicy follow up to this if I can find the courage to actually post something smutty.

Read on AO3 here if you prefer!

Edit: I decided to write a spicy update for this and you can read it here.

Masterlist

The night air was pleasantly warm against your skin as you stepped from the confines of your tent. You stretched your arms above your head, thoroughly exhausted from the traveling the day brought, and you wanted nothing more than to slip into your bedroll and sleep away the stiffness in your body. But a light rumble to your stomach and a tingle on the tip of your tongue for something sweet kept you awake. Your camp was mostly quiet as you strolled across the grounds from your tent to pillage through the crates of supplies, save for the sound of githyanki longsword grinding against a sharpening stone and the playful barks and hoots of your furred companions. Most of your companions had retired for the evening, either by going to their own bedrolls or simply sitting in the mouth of their respective tents and unwinding from the day. The walk from the now former shadow lands had been quite the journey, taking a handful of days to get to where you were now, and still had another day or two of walking ahead of you before you reached the town of Rivington just outside of Baldur’s Gate.

You strolled along the supply crates along the edge of camp, peeking through your rations to find something to satiate your sweet cravings. The crates were filled with plenty of cured meats and cheeses with handfuls of fresh vegetables scattered about, but not the first pastry or bit of chocolate in sight. You grumbled to yourself as you continued rummaging, but you eventually found the small jar of honey you had collated a few days prior. Your skin tingled at the memory of the few dozen bee stings you’d received as punishment for cutting away a chunk of the honeycomb, but for now it was more than worth the trouble. You slowly poured part of the jar into an empty bowl, watching as the sweet, thick substance flowed from the mouth of the jar. By the time you’d coated the bottom of your bowl, you rotated the jar just a bit to stop the stream and wiped the rim with your finger.

You popped your forefinger into your mouth and cleaned off the bit of honey that lingered, humming in satisfaction at the first taste of the fresh honey. After the lid had been secured, you slotted the jar back in its spot and continued your search for your late night craving. You would need something of substance to eat with the honey to satisfying the gnawing in your stomach and you finally settled on two tart apples. You plucked a clean paring knife from the camp cook station and added it to your small stash of goods.

As you turned from the supply boxes to return yourself to your tent for the evening, you spotted Halsin sitting alone by the dying fire, quietly thumbing through a rather large book. He always made it a habit of sitting off to the side or just in the mouth of his tent, forever reluctant to join the rest of the group when it came time to relax. So, by sitting at the campfire, you couldn’t help but wonder if he would mind a bit of conversation before bed. But, then again, you weren’t sure. Halsin had always claimed that duty and responsibility kept him from truly enjoying down time; feeling that he should be out doing something about the issues at hand instead of sitting idly by. Ever since you plucked the bear from the clutches of the goblins, you can’t recall hardly ever seeing him actually relax or indulge in anything remotely pleasurable. With this in mind, you didn’t want to disturb the few moments of peace and self indulgence he allowed himself by disturbing him.

The stress of the grove weighed heavily on his shoulders, but not long after he left the grove to join your group you had started to see his stoic demeanor begin to bend ever so slightly. Of course the little bit of reprieve he had was short lived once you finally made it to the shadow cursed lands. His duty and sense of responsibility while there was heightened beyond belief and you couldn’t pry him from lifting the curse if you wanted to. So, the look of absolute joy and relief on his face once the curse had finally lifted was certainly a sight for your eyes. He actually seemed happy.

Halsin was reclined by the fire with his legs stretched out in front of him and an elbow supported on an old log behind him. A heavy book resting in his lap, the thumb of his free hand lightly ran along the corners of the pages repeatedly as he read. You caught yourself staring as he flipped to the next page and used his fingers to smooth out the pages before returning them to their ministrations of the corners. You still wrestled with yourself on if you should approach him or not, truly not wanting to bother him, but also not wanting him to feel left our from the group. Eventually, you found yourself walking towards the druid and stopped a few steps from where he was seated.

“Care for some company?” You asked as you approached with your bowl of treats in hand. Halsin looked up from his book, greeting you with his usual, gentle smile.

“Always.” He extended his hand to offer you the seat beside him, softly patting the ground. You carefully stepped over his legs as you made your way to the spot offered to you. You sat on the ground beside him, your lower back resting against the log. You crossed your legs in front of you, placing your bowl in the space between your thighs, giving yourself a suitable spot to rest for the evening until you retired back to your tent. Your leg lightly brushed against Halsin’s thigh as they crossed and you felt him shift slightly, clearing his throat as he adjusted.

“Good evening, my friend.” He said as he adjusted the opened book in his lap, his hand rested atop the pages, securely keeping the book against his thighs.

“Good evening.” You said as you gave a final wiggle to your hips so you could fully settle, “Care to indulge?” You offered him one of the two apples you had brought with you. He graciously accepted the piece of fruit, sinking his teeth into the flesh with a satisfied crunch as you showed him the bowl of honey.

“Do you want some? I know they’re not the sweetest of apples.” He shook his head as he chewed his bit of apple, holding his hand up to stop you from pressing the bowl closer to him.

“No, thank you, though,” he said after he had swallowed, “I certainly pulled enough bee stingers from you the other night that you’ve earned it all for yourself.” He gave a slight chuckle and a gentle nudge to your elbow.

“It was worth it.” You said sheepishly as you recalled having to ask Halsin for help with healing the welts and pulling the stingers from you that you had difficulty in dislodging.

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence, simply enjoying the serenity of the evening in each others company. Halsin turned his attention back to his book as he continued to bite away at his apple and you focused on cutting yours into slices. You took the paring knife you’d brought with you and used it to cut the apple in half, making it easier to cut away at the flesh. With each piece you took off, you dropped them back into the bowl and tossed any bits of seeds or core into the fire ahead of you.

“You don’t have to sit by yourself, you know.” You said as you sliced off another chunk of apple, “I mean if you want to that’s fine, of course, but you don’t have to. You’re as much a part of this group as anyone else.” You glanced to him as you spoke, having finished your slicing and placed the knife on the ground beside you.

“I thank you for the sentiment, but truthfully I don’t feel like that’s the case.” Halsin looked up from his book once again, meeting your gaze in a way that made your skin tingle.

“Why not?” You asked as your brows knitted together, “Has someone said something?”

“Not at all,” he said calmly, “but you know as well I that I haven’t exactly been present for the more…bonding moments that others have enjoyed. I seem to have made myself an outsider. Aside from your company, of course. You’ve always gone out of your way and for that I thank you.” His voice was genuine as he spoke, which relieved any worry that there was trouble among camp members.

“Ah, well, I guess that means you’re stuck with me around the campfire from now on.” You leaned over slightly and nudged him with your shoulder as he chuckled at your response.

“You will always be most welcome.” With a final bite he finished off his apple, tossing the core into the fire ahead of him before returning back to his previous position. He reclined against the log once again, putting his weight against one arm on the log and the other returning to rest along the book spread across his lap, his fingers absentmindedly running along the lip of the cover.

You were blissfully unaware of the hungry eyes watching your every move as you indulged in your sweet treat. Halsin’s gaze was transfixed on the movements of your wonderfully nimble fingers as you selected a slice of tart apple from your bowl and coated it with a generous amount of the honey you’d procured earlier in the day. You twirled the slice in your fingers, trying to break the sticky strings that came as you tried to scoop the thickened treat onto the fruit. Halsin was unsure if time had slowed or if it was simply his own desires fogging his mind, but watching this relatively mundane task had become almost intoxicating.

Your attention was quickly pulled from your snack before you had a chance to bite into it, the call of your name from across camp making you pause. You still held the slice in your fingers, hovering over the bowl as you spoke to your companion about an event from earlier in the day. The honey that rested at the tip of the apple slice began to drip, slowly making its way along the fruit and onto your thumb. Halsin was sitting close enough that he could smell the sweetness and the light floral notes that came from the honey, the scent alone being enough to have his mouth watering for a taste. Although he couldn’t help but wonder at how the taste would change when mixed with the taste of your skin as he watched the honey continue to drop down the length of your arm.

He had longed for your touch for some time now, but ever since the group had parted the shadow lands, the longing had become incessant. Unbeknownst to you, Halsin wanted more from you; more than just friendship. He wanted companionship. He wanted you. And in this moment he wanted nothing more than to clean the honey from your skin with his own tongue and kiss your dexterous fingers that had been teasing him all day. The impulsive urge to act on the idea was tempting, but given that he had yet to approach you about wanting more, he tried to push the thought from his mind.

Realizing the sticky mess that was now running down your arm, you quickly popped the apple slice covered in what remaining honey that wasn’t dripping down your arm into your mouth. You searched the small area by the campfire for any sort of cloth to wipe your hands on, but ultimately decided to simply lick it off when you couldn’t find a suitable rag and the sticky honey was now nearing your elbow. With a turn of your head and twist of your arm, you found the large drip of honey on your arm and pressed your tongue along the sweet trail. Starting near your elbow, you slowly pulled your tongue along your inner forearm, collecting the fallen honey in the small well created by your tongue. Given just how sticky the honey was, you found yourself going over the same spots multiple times in an attempt to get every drop that had made its way down your arm.

Halsin could feel his heart pick up speed and almost threaten to beat out of his chest the more he watched you clean yourself of the honey and the grip on the book in his lap tightened with each swipe of your tongue. The tips of his pointed ears had grown warm in a flush and his throat had suddenly gone dry. Despite the growing tension and the tightening of desire growing in his muscles, he found himself simply unable to look away from you. It had been so long that he’d been able to indulge in desires of his own that he had become complacent with pushing away his wants until he had completed his duties. But now those duties had been fulfilled, with your help of course, he was now free to purse any desires he’d denied himself for so long. And the druid was dangerously close to losing any and all control over keeping these wants at bay until the proper moment.

By the time you’d made your way to your honey coated thumb, you finally picked up on the eyes that had been focused on your movements for so long. Your own gaze flicked to Halsin, whose face was a mixture of amusement and something else you couldn’t quite place, and couldn’t help but smile in embarrassment as he’d caught your blunder. What you couldn’t notice, however, was the heat rising along Halsin’s neck and the thread of tension in his chest that was threatening to break at any second. However, when you stuck the entirety of your thumb into your mouth and slowly pulled off the honey while still holding his gaze, that delicately held together thread finally snapped.

Without a word, Halsin sharply shut his book, practically flinging it from his lap, letting it drop into the dirt as he abruptly stood. Your head tilted upwards, curiously watching as his frame loomed over yours as you remained seated against your log. His legs stepped over yours as he started to leave the campsite, stomping into the ground beside you. You watched as he made off for the inner depths of the trees, walking as fast as his legs would carry him. You had half a mind to follow him, now afraid that you had done or said something to offend him, or even anger him. However, your intentions to follow him into the woods were short lived when you were quickly bombarded with a snout and beak clambering over each other to have a bite of your apples and honey.

Halsin walked quickly into the expanse of the forest, easily slipping between trees and shrubs as he tried to make it as far away from camp, and your teasingly delightful movements, as he could. He could feel a deep rumble in his throat threaten to let loose and a flutter in his heart before it turned into a steady, yet quickened pace. The memory of you oh so deliciously cleaning up the honey from your fingers was burning hot in his mind, causing heat to course through his body and settle in other areas. But laced within this arousal was also an equal amount of anger for himself.

He wanted you more than anything he had wanted in so long that he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He was elated and almost giddy whenever you graced him with your company, although he was usually good at keeping his demeanor calm and collected. A solemn, unwavering wall he had built to control his emotions and desires while still trying to work a way out to rid Thaniel’s realm of the curse while also not drowning in the stress and strain that the grove demanded for over a century was beginning to crumble, letting a playful youth and optimism begin to break through. The cracks in the wall were caused simply by you and your kindness, your generosity, and your unwavering determination to simply do the right thing for those in need; for those like himself. Halsin wanted to take things further with you, to see if there could be more than just a friendship and a battle alliance, but he was finding that he had issues in taking the next step.

He himself was always susceptible to holding off on acting on desires until more pressing, mature tasks like the shadow curse had been dealt with, finding that he couldn’t enjoy indulging in more carnal or whimsical pleasures until the work was over. He knew you were not like that, but he still felt the same guilt whenever he even considered approaching you for something more. The Absolute was now marching towards Baldur’s Gate with an army of enthralled and tadpole infected and the threat of the Elder Brain becoming in control was ever pressing. He simply couldn’t justify indulging in his own selfish wants and pleasures when something that important was a looming threat. Halsin could wait. He would wait. But that didn’t mean that his own feelings and desires weren’t too much to handle at times.

Halsin gritted his teeth as he walked, nose flaring in a snarl as the overwhelming heat that engulfed his body was becoming too much to control. He had gotten a decent ways away before he felt the urge become all consuming, stooping over in a hunch before erupting backwards in a flash of golden light and a burst of magic. A large cave bear landed on all fours, crushing the hard earth underneath heavy paws. The bear shook his shoulders, releasing a bit of tension before galloping deeper into the forest. Primal urges and instincts always seemed to win out in the end, no matter how hard Halsin tried to control them, and they wouldn’t be tamed easily.

It wasn’t long before the galloping bear eventually came to a stop, breathing heavily at the exertion and arousal still burning through his veins. A pristine, quiet pond stopped the bear in his tracks, a wonderfully calming spot deep in nature that could soothe and subdue the beast running rampant through the woods. Halsin took a deep breath, taking in the scent of the algae clinging to the edge of the pond and listening to the sounds nearby. Crickets chirped loudly all around, sounding off out of sync so there was almost always one singing into the night.

Beautifully luminescent fireflies lazily bobbed around the surface of the water and high into the trees, their glow mixing with the moon that was still high in the sky; well past midnight, but still a few hours before the sun would rise. The serenity of the pond was still not enough for Halsin to be able to regain control of the beast. He stepped into the water, feeling the icy cold water beginning to finally tame the fire almost boiling in his veins. Another step in and the beast was becoming easier to control, but still needed just a bit more.

You stepped quietly through the trees, effortlessly weaving your way through foliage and over gnarled tree roots poking up from the ground as you searched for the druid. A few hours had passed since his abrupt departure and with all of your companions now sleeping peacefully in their bedrolls, four footed ones included, with the exception of one particularly cryptic druid. Something about Halsin’s sudden urgency to leave didn’t sit well with you and after he had not yet returned, you were concerned. You knew good and well he was in no real danger and could easily handle himself, but you knew there was something gnawing at his mind and if it was something you could help alleviate, you were more than willing to miss out on a few hours sleep.

Realistically, you were walking blindly into the forest. You had no sense of where Halsin could have wandered off to and your tracking skills were less than ideal. But nonetheless you pushed forward, taking time to enjoy the silence of the night as you meandered your way through your surroundings. You didn’t bother to bring a torch given just how bright the moon was and only had to fumble a bit under the thickest spots of the canopy. After some time, you picked up on the steadily increasing sounds of crickets and stopped to marvel at the blanket of fireflies that thrived in the darkness.

Between the chirps of the cricket hiding in the grass, you heard the sound of something lightly splashing against water. You redirected your course to head towards the sound and soon stumbled upon a small pond. A symphony of croaking frogs began as you neared the water, surprised to see such a quaint little pond in such a thick forest. The splashing came again, this time the sound seemly skipping across the surface of the water, and as you reached the end of the trees, you could see the remaining ripples riding against the water.

Halsin was standing up to his shins in pond, his trousers rolled to just above his knees and his shoes had been long forgotten in the grass leading to the water, yet still mysteriously wet. His back was to you and he had yet to hear you approach, too engrossed in skipping stones across the water than to hear you coming up behind him. You could see the muscles of his arms flexing and releasing in the soft glow of the moonlight, an obvious tension in the thickness of the muscles. Something had set the druid on edge and you feared that you were the catalyst of his frustrations; although you had no inkling of a clue that you were also the solution.

You watched as he wound his arm slightly before flinging a stone from his hand. The rock skipped beautifully across the water, jumping ten times or more before finally sinking to the bottom of the pond. He waited for the water to quiet once again before throwing another stone, but his one much more forceful. Instead of skipping across the water, the rock simply splashed on impact and sunk. There was a frustration in his throw, a side you didn’t see from Halsin very often out of battle, but you still hadn’t determined the cause. You hesitated in your spot, thinking it would probably be best to simply turn away and let him work through his feelings in this state, but part of you wanted to stay. You’d helped him with many issues thus far, so why stop now?

You took another step towards the pond, purposefully stepping on a branch so it would snap and give away your position. Halsin’s head turned the trees, alarm quickly giving way to relief when you saw you stepping from the foliage. You noted how the scrunched expression on his face melted at the sight of you, making you believe that perhaps he wasn’t angry with you. He gave you a single nod as you approached the edge of the lake, his blood still running too warm for his liking and he wasn’t sure he could speak without a sense of desperation to his voice. You nodded in response, taking the opportunity of finding a body of water to rinse your hands.

“Is everything all right?” You asked as you knelt by the shoreline, dunking your hands in the cool water to wash away any sticky remnants of the honey you’d eaten earlier.

“Oh, yes I’m fine. Just needed some space to think.” Halsin said as he tossed another stone across the quiet surface of the water, “With the city drawing nearer, I fear a peaceful spot like this will be difficult to find. I wanted to savor it while it lasts; try to process recent events and what comes next.”

“Ah. Well… I won’t keep you then.” You said as you stood, flicking water droplets from your fingers in an attempt to dry them, “We both know peace rarely stays for long when I’m around.” You gave a half hearted smile, still unsure if you had done something to upset the druid. Your mind had been settled at the very least, knowing he was safe and had seemingly calmed himself enough to sate your troubled mind.

“Nonsense,” Halsin’s voice was almost surprised, “there is plenty of space in nature for the both of us. You are no bother to me, my friend.” You hesitated for a moment, but eventually spoke.

“You’re certain?” Halsin’s head cocked slightly, picking up on the uncertainty in your voice and realizing that his sudden departure might have offended you in some way.

“Will you join me?” He asked softly as he extended out his hand, offering you a rock to skip yourself.

You felt your heart begin to pick up pace at his offer, having very few times in memory where he’s specifically asked for your company. Normally you asked if he would mind if you joined or he would offer you a space next to him, but very rarely had he specifically asked you to join him. Because of this, you happily obliged and began unlacing your boots to join him in the water. Halsin could feel that familiar warmth beginning to creep into his chest again as he watched your ever teasing fingers quickly unlace your boots. He shifted in the water again, finding a colder spot to stand in as you rolled your trouser legs up to your knee before stepping into the water yourself.

“Good gods.” You muttered as you stepped further into the water, the sudden chill on your legs making your skin seize up and a chill go down your spine.

“Quite brisk tonight, despite how warm the air is.” Halsin said as you stood by him in the water, which had already soaked well past your knees given the depth of your section of pond. You nodded in agreement, still trying to adjust to the temperature change.

He offered you the stone again and you happily accepted it, your fingers brushing against his as you grabbed the stone. You did a double take and took his hand in both of yours, marveling at how unbelievably warm they were when considering he’d been standing in cold water for quite some time now.

“Do you always run so warm to the touch?” You asked as you finally pried your hands away from his, realizing just how long you had lingered.

“I have lately,” Halsin admitted as you turned the stone in your hand, “the beast tends to run hot and emerge more often when I have something pressing on my mind.” Halsin flicked his wrist and sent another stone skidding across the water, ending with a satisfying plunk as it dipped below the surface.

You were never sure why he always referred to his bear form as a beast. Sure, the bear was a formidable opponent in battle and could show quite the fury when angered, but ultimately the so-called beast was still Halsin. To you, the bear was as much Halsin as Halsin was the bear; one in the same. And admittedly, as much as you admired Halsin, you were also rather fond of the bear.

“Anything I can do to help ease your mind?” You asked softly, “I won’t pry, but if I can be of some use, please, let me know.”

“Some use?” Halsin asked through a hearty chuckle, “You’ve helped me more than I could have imagined. You’ve greatly exceeded any expectations I could have possibly had when I met you. I do hope you know just how grateful I am for you, my friend.” You found yourself blushing at his praises, a warmth stinging the apples of your cheeks.

“Well, how about more use, then?” You offered after your blush began to die down, still wanting to offer help for the druid if you could.

“I won’t burden you with an old druid’s ramblings.” He said softly, turning his gaze to yours, “You have your own matters to worry about that are much more important.”

“Well,” you sighed when you realized he would go no further, “if you need whatever worth my opinion has on a matter or even just an ear to vent to, I’m here.” Halsin nodded to you as a way of thanks, taking a brief moment to simply admire you before sending another stone across the water.

You both stood in your respective spots for a long while, taking turns to throw stones across the pond. The stones Halsin skipped were always fluid and elegant, easily surpassing a dozen or so skips before finishing off. Yours, on the other hand, were much more choppy. You didn’t think you’d managed to pass more than two skips and most of your stone ended up simply splashing in the water the second they left your fingers. You weren’t the most skilled stone skipper in Faerûn, but you were admittedly enjoying yourself.

“Are you competitive, Halsin?” You asked after a while, wanting to fill the silence between you and still try to find a way to lift his spirits. If you couldn’t help him with his burdens, then you’d at least like to let him enjoy the night.

“I can be,” he said with a playful glint to his eye, “when I have time to indulge in more light hearted activities. And with the right company, of course.” He motioned to you with his finger.

“Well, in that case, care to indulge me? How about a fresh jar of honey for the winner? Don’t think I didn’t see you eyeing it earlier.” You tossed the rock in your hand and caught it with a touch of flare. Halsin was thankful that the cool water he was standing in kept his heart from racing and his blood from once again running too hot. His eyes focused on the stone you twirled in your fingers as you awaited an answer, your digits once again testing the limits of his self control.

“I can’t say it’s not tempting,” he spoke slowly, trying to regain a steadiness to his voice, “but, given the circumstances, I’m not sure if indulging is the right thing to do. Not right now, at least. The threat of the Absolute takes priority, does it not?”

“It does, but there’s no harm in indulging in something you want, especially now.” You stopped twirling your stone, opting to simply look out across the water as you spoke, “ The Absolute will be there tomorrow just as it was there today. What happens in our downtime will happen if we’re abstaining from joyous things or giving in completely. So, my thinking at least, is let yourself indulge. The world could end in the morning, so I’m going to enjoy tonight while I still can.”

How Halsin wished he could simply take your view on the world. He couldn’t help but think of all the stress and strain that could have been avoided if he had simply taken one night off here and there to just live. The responsibilities the grove suddenly presented to him all those years ago when the shadow curse first took hold had locked his mind in a constant battle for balance. He always strove to find balance in the natural world, but never took the time to find balance within himself. Instead, he allowed himself to be burdened and live almost as a ghost of his former self for the better part of a century. Until he met you. You were the balance he so desperately craved and wanted.

“Are you always so convincing?” He asked after a moment with a soft grin, finally relenting and decided that tonight would simply be one of indulgence and a bit of fun.

“I have my moments.” You said with a shrug and a cheeky smile.

You each took a handful of smooth stones from under the water, taking time to find ones that were just the right size and weight for your little game. You had decided that the winner would be whoever could skip a stone the furthest across the surface of the water before you decided to head back to camp. The moon had started to lower, the darkness beginning to lighten ever so slightly, signaling that sunrise was merely an hour or two away.

You once again took turns tossing rocks across with water with very similar results. You clearly knew Halsin would win your little competition and while the more competitive side of you wanted to win, you were simply happy with watching Halsin actually enjoy himself. The feeling was only boosted by the idea that he was enjoying spending his very little free time with you of all people. The thought brought you back to the moment you had shared earlier in camp when he abruptly left, the feeling of guilt once again returning with the thought that you had annoyed him.

“I’m sorry if I disturbed you earlier,” you said as another one of your stones plunked into the water on the first toss, “I should have let you enjoy your evening in peace.”

“You didn’t disturb me,” he said almost immediately, “I always enjoy every moment of your company. It’s just that… long suppressed emotions are bubbling towards the surface. Left unchecked they’re liable to break the tension and I’ll lose any sense of self control.” He sent another rock across the water, this one a bit more forceful, and it skidded across the water to reach his highest number of skips yet.

“Well, sometimes it’s good to let those feelings out. Cry, scream at the sky, go on a rampage. Seems to help Karlach well enough.” You threw a rock and had to catch yourself before losing your footing and falling in the water, “Hells, if you want to go stomping around as a bear for a while if you think it’ll be of assistance, have at it. I’ll be here when you get back and maybe I’ll have figured out how to properly skip a damn stone by the time you return.” He chuckled at your response, truly appreciative of the admiration of the bear, but also at your very sorry attempts at throwing rocks.

“Widen your stance,” he said as he pointed to your legs, “it’ll give you more stability so you can focus on tossing the stone and not toppling into the water.” You adjusted your leg slightly, pulling one leg just a bit from the other before looking back to Halsin for approval. He simply shook his head and pointed to the side, hinting that you should adjust more. The same cycle repeated for a few rounds with the same result.

“May I?” Halsin said after a few tries and finally gestured to your leg, wanting permission to help you adjust your stance before touching you.

“Of course.” You said softly, finding your heart had begun to give the slightest flutter in your chest as Halsin trudged through the water to stand behind you.

You felt Halsin’s foot nudge yours from under the water, encouraging you to shift your legs further apart. You obliged, shifting your leg until you felt the druid stop his movements. Admittedly, you felt more secure in your posture as you dug your toes into the sandy bottom of the pond. Your breath involuntarily hitched as you felt a pair of large hands on your hips, pulling back slightly and encouraging you to angle one hip further back. As before, you complied. Taking one small step back with one foot until you were at a slight angle.

“Good,” Halsin said softly against your ear, “just like that.” He could feel his own chest begin to tighten as you melted under his touch.

With his own lips close to your ear, he could hear the skip to your breath and could see the prickling of your skin as his warm breath tickled your neck. When you angled your hips with Halsin’s movements, your upper back softly rested against Halsin’s broad chest, fitting together almost seamlessly. The warmth of his body so close to yours was a welcome reprieve from the cold water you’d been standing in and you had to resist the urge to lean back more than you already had. You could each feel the others heart beat begin to increase, the pounding steadily increasing the longer your touch lingered on the other.

You had the quick touch here and there in the past, whether it be through healing or exploring or even a quick pat on the back for moral support, but it had never been anything more. Nothing had ever lingered for more than a few fleeting seconds and none had ever set your heart ablaze like it was now. Although not inherently sexual, there was a sexual tension in the air around you. Your seemingly simple offer to skip stones had quickly turned into something much more intimate. And admittedly, you were beginning to think that maybe there was more to Halsin than to just be a traveling companion. Perhaps you wanted more.

Shamelessly, you had flirted with him many weeks ago with the tiefling celebration with the aid of half a bottle of a wine, and had very gently been turned down. As much as it had disappointed you at the time, you respected his decision. After all, you were little more than strangers at the time and Halsin had his own share of problems to deal with first. But, now that the shadow curse had been lifted and his duties at the grove were nonexistent now, then just maybe something could happen between the two of you.

“Now for the stone.” Halsin said after clearing the lump of excitement from his throat. He took the stone from your hand, turning it over in his hands to ensure it was the correct size and weight for skipping.

You watched as the stone moved through his fingers, noting just how small the stone looked in his hands when the same stone looked large when compared to yours. You had expected his calloused hands to be rough against your skin, but as his fingers brushed against yours, you noticed how exceedingly gentle they were. You had seen his very hands decimate enemies and battle and rip foes apart when in wild shape, but in this moment his hand cradled yours as if you’d break if he were any rougher.

“Curl these fingers into your palm,” Halsin’s voice brought you back from your thoughts, “and use them to hold the stone steady until you’re ready to throw.” Halsin’s opposite hand was cupping yours, gently pushing your last three fingers with his own so they would curl into themselves. With his hand on yours and the other still holding the stone, you found yourself engulfed between his arms, each of his resting on either side of you.

“Good. Now, use your thumb to hold the bottom of the stone and let it run along the length of your finger. Hook it at the tip.” Halsin effortlessly spread your thumb and pointer finger with his own, giving him the change to slot the skipping stone into your grasp.

Halsin hesitated for a moment, but his other hand eventually settled on your side, keeping your hips aligned with how they had been previously positioned. He felt your skin prickle at his touch, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as his heart thumped even harder against his chest. He had to step back just slightly to keep you from feeling the same warmth he felt begin to grow in other areas of his body.

“Arm back.” He said as he pulled your arm back at a bend. You allowed him to move your arm as needed until your arm was completely nestled against his. You could feel the tightness of his muscles as he moved his arm in tandem with yours and you could actually feel just how strong his hulking arms were.

“Now I throw?” You whispered, finding your voice difficult to get out.

“Yes, but there’s a trick,” Halsin’s voice was once again at your ear, his breath tickling the outer shell as he spoke, “you’ll throw outward, but angle it down just slightly. It allows for a slight spin on the stone when you flick it from your fingers and it’ll skip along nicely.”

With your hand in his, he adjusted the slant of your grip until it was perfect. He kept his grip on you as he helped you toss the stone, his body moving time with yours as he used his arm to guide your own. With a flick of his wrist, and subsequently yours, the rock was thrown perfectly from your grasp and quickly skipped across the water. You both watched in a bit of amazement as the stone surpassed two dozen skips before finally coming to a stop. It was the furthest a rock had been thrown that evening and you were suddenly faced with a dilemma.

“So,” you drawled out as Halsin’s grip remained on you, “who gets the credit for that throw?” The druid couldn’t help but chuckle at the question, not quite sure how to answer it himself. He then realized that he was still holding onto you as you stood in the water and he hesitantly broke away. His fingers lingered ever so slightly on your skin, relishing the contact he’d so greatly been craving.

“I supposed we could call it a tie,” he said eventually, “and we’ll just have to see who can break it.” You nodded in agreement, satisfied with his answer, and readied yourself to begin throwing more stones now that you’d had just an exhilarating lesson.

You and Halsin spent the next few moments searching the pond for more suitable stones, the bulk of the ones at your feet having already been tossed. With sloshing at your legs and dirt between your toes, you walked as best you could to a new spot, hunched over as you inspected the ground for smooth, rounded rocks. Very soon you were joined by Halsin, who had yet to find a good rock, and you both simply searched the pond in silence.

“You know, it’s nice to see you like this.” You said eventually, still having come up empty handed for a decent rock.

“Like what? Hunched over and looking for rocks in the middle of the night?” Halsin asked with a chuckle as he continued looking himself. You found yourself standing across from each other, bent over and faces close to the edge of the water, but also rather close to each other. Half a step forward and your nose would be bumping into his.

“No,” you said with a giggle, “relaxing and, dare I say, even happy. It’s a good look for you.” He glanced up to you, offering you a gentle smile.

“I have you to thank for that. You’ve helped me far more than you probably should have already. It’s not fair of me to always burden you with my troubles; they’re not your burdens to bear. Pardon the pun, if you will.” His familiar seriousness had returned to his voice as he spoke, but he was nothing but sincere.

“Well maybe not, but my tadpole problem isn’t yours either. It’s okay to rely on others when you need help, Halsin. I know that what you had as Archdruid forced you to bear your burdens alone, but you don’t need to anymore. You’ve got an entire camps worth of people that would do anything to help. And if all else fails then you’ll have me. Please know that my hand is extended if you need the help.” You instinctively reached forward, not realizing just what you were doing until your slightly cold fingers ran across his burning cheek. You were committed by that point and simply cupped his cheek for a moment to show your sincerity before dropping it back to the tops of your thighs.

“Another night, perhaps.” He finally said after a brief moment of silence, “For tonight I’m too occupied with besting you at a bit of stone skipping.”

“You seem rather confident.” You said with a huff, being met with a similarly wide grin from the druid.

“After as many stones that you simply threw into the water? I am rather confident.” You responded by playfully dipping your fingers in the water in front of you, bringing them up sharply to splash a small amount of the chilly water on Halsin’s face.

You had expected some sort of witty remark, but instead, you were met with a very large and very cold splash of water to your own face and chest. Halsin had used both his hands to deliver a rather large amount of pond water to you, easily soaking your already thin camp tunic. You stood up straight, the chill going straight to your spine and making your skin prickle once again at the sensation. Your rock skipping competition had now been forgotten and you were both now splashing each other back and forth in the pond. You circled each other, trying to evade the onslaught of water heading towards each of you. You would let out a shriek turned giggle each time you were doused with another handful of water, folding in on yourself momentarily until the initial shock wore off. Halsin was much more dignified when he was splashed by your much smaller handfuls of water, but was no doubt feeling just a chilled after some time.

You continued to circle each other, steadily splashing each other more and more quickly as the game progressed. That was, however, until you finally lost your footing on a smooth rock that you hadn’t seen earlier, and started falling backwards. Thanks to his reflexes, Halsin was able to realize that you were falling much faster than you were, and reached out to grab a hold of your arm in an attempt to keep you from fully submerging yourself in the water. His hold certainly helped you from fully dunking into the water, but you were too far gone for it to save you from getting wet, and you inadvertently pulled the druid down on top of you as you fell into the pond.

You let out a hiss through your teeth as your bottom collided with the rocks and dirt underneath you, cold water immediately soaking your shirt and wetting your entire back. Halsin had come close to falling on top of you, but thankfully caught himself on his hands and knees before colliding with you. What he couldn’t prevent, however, was where he landed. You soon realized that the druid was looming over you, one of his massive legs was sandwiched between yours and the other rested along your outer hip. His hands were near your sides, not quite close enough to touch, but enough to fully cage you underneath him as your nose sat mere inches from his. You both simply froze in your spots, realizing the precariousness of your situation, yet somehow enraptured by it.

You could feel Halsin’s warm breath come out in strong bursts against your face, faintly smelling of the apple he had eaten earlier. Your eyes locked to his, unsure of what to do or say in the moment, and you were hoping he would be the more reasonable of the two. However, you were simply met with a tension filled silence, the druid also not sure of what to do or say next. His eyes slowly trailed down from yours, eventually settling along your lips. You let out the slightest of gasps as you felt his hand cup your cheek, much like yours had done to his just moments before, and you felt your heart pound harder than you could image as his thumb made its way down your cheek bone. You were fully expecting his lips to press to your own moments later, but instead you were surprised with a different move.

Halsin slowly ran his thumb across your bottom lip, starting at the corner of your mouth and gently pulling until he came to the center, your lip bending to his movements as he went. When his thumb left your skin after what felt like an eternity, he lifted the digit to your line of sight and revealed a small amount of honey. Your tongue instinctively licked your lip where his thumb had just been, searching for any remaining bit that had apparently been stuck to your mouth all evening. Before you could thank him for removing the sticky mess from your lip, he popped his honey covered thumb into his mouth, licking off the treat as his eyes remained locked onto yours.

You felt your heart pound against your chest and in your ears as you watched him lick off the teasingly small taste of honey from his thumb. There was something fiery in his eyes as he meticulously cleaned his thumb, something you had never seen so potent and strong before; desire. It only just dawned on you that your own honey licking earlier was what sent him into such a frenzy and caused his urgency to leave. Halsin wanted you and wanted you enough to drive himself mad with desire. Your breath suddenly came in pants as you felt a desirable warmth spread across your abdomen. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want him just as desperately in this moment.

“There’s more,” you said breathlessly, “if you want.” Your voice was just a whisper against Halsin’s skin. You weren’t sure if the sudden lack of oxygen in your lungs was from the cool water now engulfing your chest or if it was from the sudden proximity of the druid hovering over you. You also weren’t sure yourself if you still only referring to honey.

“I do, more than anything, I do.” There was desperation in his words, but also a hint of hesitation in his voice as he spoke.

“But…?” You said after a moment, knowing there was more to his statement than just desire. Like that night at the tiefling party, you felt as if you were about to be gently turned down once again.

“But not tonight,” his gaze was soft as he spoke, understanding the delicate nature of the topic at hand, “the sun is rising and very soon our companions will stir for the day.”

Halsin wanted more than just a quick night to simply satiate primal needs. He wanted companionship from you, but wasn’t sure himself if you shared in his desires. He could tell you wanted at least one night with him, and until he was certain you also wanted more, he wanted to make the one guaranteed night to be memorable for himself at the least. Halsin needed an early evening and a long night so he could take his time to properly savor you; the taste of your lips, the feel of your skin against his, the scent of your arousal. He wanted to etch it all into memory.

If you didn’t want more time with him, he wanted to be able to remember your night together over and over again to satiate his own desires when alone in his tent. To recall the way your body moved and arched with his touch, to replay the wonderful little noises that would come from your lips when he found the right spot, and, most importantly, to reminisce about the way you felt around him. Your touch had teased him for so long now and he needed to feel you against every part of him more than he needed anything else. But, he needed a proper night. One where he could take his time with you without worry of being interrupted either by your camp mates or the rising sun.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t wrong. You also knew that if your companions noticed that you both were missing, they would surely coming looking for you and interrupt any bit of fun you and Halsin had decided to enjoy together.

“And,” he said as he brought his lips to your ear as he whispered, but not enough to touch, “if I’m going to indulge in something I’ve wanted for this long, I want to take the time to savor the taste.” You felt a shiver run down your spine at his words, the promise of something more to come in the following days was enough to subdue the raging warmth you felt in your abdomen and legs. You nodded in response and were greeted with a thankful smile.

You both remained there for a moment longer before the chill of the water was too much to bear. Halsin stood first, climbing off of your frame before helping you to your feet. You each wrung out as much water from your clothes and hair as possible before picking up your long forgotten shoes and making the long walk back to camp. You walked in silence as you returned to camp, your soaked clothes sloshing about filling the void of silence.

The sun was beginning to crest just as the crickets and fireflies had quieted down for the morning. Orange light filtered through the leaves of the canopy above as morning birds began their songs for the day, the rays of sun slightly warming your overly chilled bodies. By the time you made it just to the edge of camp, you were relieved to see that no one had yet stirred for the day. The last thing you wanted to do was explain why you and Halsin were returning to camp soaking wet after being gone for most of the night. Halsin stopped you before you could step into the camp, a soft touch lingering on your skin. You turned to face him, getting lost in the softness of his eyes as he spoke.

“Get what rest you can,” he whispered to you, “we’ll let ourselves indulge in the other after the sun sets for the day.” You smiled at the promise, already wishing for the day to go by as quickly as possible.

“Until tonight, then.” You said softly as you began to make your way towards your tent.

“Until tonight.” Halsin replied as he followed suit to his own living quarters.

You stepped quietly through the camp, hoping the sound of wet cloth rubbing against itself wouldn’t be enough to wake your companions, especially the camp animals. Halsin had made it to the mouth of his tent long before you’d made it to yours, considering yours was the furthest from the pond. You took a quick glance back towards his tent and found that he had not yet gone inside, but was waiting just in the threshold. He wanted to ensure you had gotten inside before he retired for a few moments rest himself. You met his gaze as you gripped the flap to your tent and were met with a quick wink before the druid ducked inside his own tent and out of sight. Your heart fluttered at the gesture and you quickly stepped inside your dwelling space and closed the flap just as you heard the tent next to you begin to stir for the morning.

Tag List: @thoughts-of-bear ,@beardedladyqueen, @pixie-in-a-moonlantern, @ur-friendly-nbhd-cardassian

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #halsin #daddy halsin #halsin x reader #reader x halsin #halsin x gender neutral reader #halsin romance #still very seriously considering smut #halsin fanfic #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #halsin fanfiction

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catnipaddictt · 7 months ago

Text

jailbreak

scott barringer x gn!reader

synopsis: You and Scott decide to escape New Horizons, a camp for at risk teens.

wc: 1.3k

tw: none

comment: there is a lack of Scott content on tumblr so I decided I wanted to write something. Also I fell in love with higher ground, i didn't think it was going to be that good, but i binged it in under a week.

You kick at the ground with your beat-up old sneakers, watching as moisture falls from the blades of grass. Grumbling could be heard from in front of you as the ground of teens treked behind their leader. Ever since you had arrived at New Horizons, it was basically walk after walker. You swear once you are out of this place you would never hike again. But alas you had now been here for almost 2 months, and Peter sure wasn't letting you out anytime soon.

Picking up your feet, you begin to follow your group as they walk uphill through the forest that surrounds the school. You make up the back of the pack, mostly just because you prefer to walk at a more leisurely pace.

“Hey” you glance to your side to be met with blue eyes. Scott. He had been here for around the same time you had meaning that you were both ‘fresh meat’. If you could even call yourself that anymore. You reply back with a “hi” focusing on not tripping on any tree roots. Scott was at New Horizons for a drug related problem, something a lot of the students had issues with. He was normally standoffish and refused to participate but you two got along just fine. Which led to the little problem of your not so little crush on the tall boy.

“I hate walking” he states plainly and you agree, nodding your head. “I mean, how is this supposed to help, walking up hills isn't going to fix a bunch of messed up kids” Scott continues. “It sucks, I just want to get out of here” you reply. “Hey, what if we-” Scott seems to want to say something but changes his mind, shaking his head. “Nevermind.” You glance at him confused. “C'mon, you have got to say it now” you laugh. “It was stupid anyways” he grumbles at the ground.

“Oh boo-hoo, just tell me” you practically beg. Scott sees this and ultimately starts to speak, “we could get out of here you know? It's only the forest holding us back I mean. And we have pretty much walked all of it twice over.” You turn your head to look at him, “you mean run away?” you ask. He has caught your full attention now. “See, told you it was dumb” Scott answers.

“Let's do it.”

“Sorry?” He states, “you can't be serious.” He raises an eyebrow. “Oh I'm serious. I have had enough of this place. Worst case scenario we get caught, that's like a few days of confinement to the cabins.” You reply smoothly. It was definitely a horrible idea but it's not like life was too exciting for you at the moment.”I mean, I'm down if you are” Scott shrugs. You think for a moment before replying. “Okay two days from now there is the school bonfire thing. We pack bags beforehand, I'll sneak into the kitchens and get us some food and stuff, and we can meet up by the docks. They won't notice we have gone for a few hours at least.”

Scott looks at you “a few hours head start is probably as good as we are going to get.” He makes up his mind, “okay I'm in.”

The next two days passed rather slowly, with not much really happening apart from lectures about personal wellness. What a waste of your time. You were counting down the minutes until your and Scott's escape out of here.

The final hours of your time at New Horizons were spent packing a bag, light enough to not slow you down, but enough to keep you going until you could get more supplies. Your next job was the kitchen.

The sun had almost disappeared by the time you reached the space, quietly opening and shutting the door behind you. You grabbed two large plastic bottles of water, placing them in your bag, as well as a few cans of food and lots of snacks. This was definitely enough to last you a few days. Getting through the forest should only take a few hours, the tricky part was not being seen around town.

Zipping up your bag you sneak out of the kitchen, making your way to the docks. You could see Scott's shadow cast on the wooden planks, giving his location away. You walk almost silently up to him and he jumps a little at you appearing. “Don't sneak up on me like that” he says playfully.

You nod your head in the direction of the path leading to the forest “time to go?” The light from the bonfire flickers over the landscape, making it feel like something out of a 80’s horror film. “Yeah, let's do it”

You both make your way out of the school and into the dense forest. There is nearly no light apart from the occasional bit of moon peeking through the canopy. Scott pulls two flashlights out of his bag, passing one to you “borrowed Auggie’s, hope he doesn't mind” he shrugs and you laugh. Poor Auggie had been robbed of his only torch.

After about an hour of walking Scott starts telling you clearly made up stories about people getting lost in the woods never to be seen again. Typical teenager boy behavior. You roll your eyes in response - not that he could see. “That's so not real” you speak, only to be met with a yelp as he trips over a tree root. You cannot contain your laughter at the action. “Not funny” he grumbles.

The next few hours pass in a blur. The clear night makes your walk nicer than you thought it was going to be. Scott being there helped a lot. You both exchange tales of your lives before New Horizons, Scott tells you about his football games and school. Up ahead of you, you can see where the ground drops about 6 feet or so, meaning you will have to climb down. Scott goes first, passing you his bag so you can throw it down to him once he is on solid ground. Once he reaches the earth again you throw down his bag followed by yours. He catches them and puts them down on the ground. Now it's your turn to make the descent.

You make it most of the way down without fail, but the place where you put your left foot collapses and you are forced to jump back and onto the dirt covered ground. Luckily you don’t hurt yourself but in the process you manage to basically slam into your companion. He lets out a sound at the impact, “woah there.” “Sorry Scott.”

After another hour you finally reach the edge of civilization and you exchange grins with the blonde boy. You had made it with close to little hiccups. Making it onto town, you and Scott begin to brainstorm what to do now. “We need to get further away before first light, then people might see the two of us. And when Peter comes asking they will know we were here” You think out loud. “We could hitchhike?” Scott suggests “It's risky but if we walk further out of town we have a better chance of someone who is passing through and not a local?”

You agree to the plan and after a quick break from walking you both set out again. Now that you are out of the dense forest you can see the night sky. It's clear tonight and you can see all the stars, you will miss it in a way. But you made your decision. As you walk, your hand brushes against Scott’s prompting you to snap your arm close to your side, embarrassed. You can sense his head turning to look at you briefly before he looks straight ahead again. Then, if on second thought, he grabs your hand in his, interlocking your pinkies. You look down at your and Scott's hand and smile. Maybe, just maybe it would all work out fine.

I'm not sure about the ending of this one as I kinda didn't know how to finish it but oh well. Im also finishing writing a whole heap of requests, so expect those soon!

#hayden christensen #hayden christensen imagine #hayden christensen x reader #higher ground #higherground #higher ground tv show #scott barringer #scott higher ground #scott barringer x reader #scott barringer x you #hayden christensen x you

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musicforastylesrestaurant · 8 months ago

Text

By Order Of The Crimson Brotherhood.

(peaky blinder!harry)

masterlist || ask me anything

in which, the year is 1921, and the city of manchester is under the control of the ruthless gang the crimson brotherhood, so when there leaders wife gets mobbed in the streets on her way home from the farmers market, the styles brothers make sure they know she is one of there own.

word count - 2.6k

authors note - ik this isn’t everyone’s cup of tea but i have 100% been in my peaky blinders era as of the beginning of the month, im already on season four 🙈🙈 and thought it would be kind of cute to join the two worlds together, don’t know if this will turn out any good but who knows?? anywho enjoy angels 💗💞

January, 1921.

Harry Edward Styles, a man born and raised in the city of Manchester, a man known for his ruthlessness, his strong will and his dangerous antics.

Him aswell as his brothers roamed the streets of Holmes Chapel, with razor blades down into the flat caps which ultimately led to fear seeping into the bones of there enemies.

Which they had a lot of.

The Styles Brothers were well renown around those ends, the family always had been, there father wasn’t present and there mother died when the youngest brother was barely a year old.

Harry met you, his gorgeous girl at the age of nineteen, the two of you were childhood sweethearts, destined to be together no matter the circumstances.

You were wandering around the streets, when you bumped into him and his elder brothers Charlie and George. You were about to fall to the floor but your wrist was captured in the hands of the leader, who caught you and raised you back to your feet carefully.

You asked how you could return the favour and he muttered something along the lines of ‘you could let me take you out for a night on the town’

And the rest was history.

When the war broke out, Harry knew for a fact that he would be getting called up to represent his country, and at the point the two of you were already engaged, but he demanded that the two of you be husband and wife before he was shipped off, explaining that if he was to die, he wanted to die as your husband.

So, the two of you had a small ceremony and you officially became Mr and Mrs. Styles.

When he returned home from war, he demeanour was slightly colder due to everything that he had seen and been through, he was colder to everyone around him, except for you.

He could never be angry, harsh, callous or aggravated around you.

People feared him before he went to war, but when he returned it was like he was a ticking time bomb, one wrong move and heads would be blown.

He ruled Manchester.

And that would never, ever change.

In the heart of Manchester, you move with the grace of a queen, your every step echoing the legacy of the Crimson Brotherhood, the notorious gang led by your husband, Harry Styles.

Despite the weight of your marital ties, you refuse to be confined by the expectations placed upon you.

Alone at the market, you weave through the stalls with purpose, selecting the finest ingredients for the dinner you plan to prepare for your husband, and his brothers.

Determination fuels your steps as you pick out fresh produce, savory meats, and delicate spices, each item chosen with care to create a meal worthy of the Crimson Brotherhood.

You approach the butcher's stall with a slightly sense of innocence, the scent of freshly cut meat mingling with the bustling atmosphere of the market. As you exchange pleasantries with the butcher, you can't help but admire the array of cuts on display, each one a testament to the skill and expertise of the person behind the counter.

"Good afternoon, love. What can I get for you today?"

Returning the smile, you reply, "I'm looking for four round beef steaks, please."

One for you, one for Harry, one for Charlie and one for George.

The butcher nods, already reaching for the desired cuts. "Ah, excellent choice. Coming right up."

As they expertly select the steaks, you engage in friendly banter. "Busy day at the market?"

The butcher chuckles, their hands deftly working the meat. "Always is, especially with the sun shining like this. But I can't complain, keeps me on my toes."

You nod in agreement, admiring their skill. "I can imagine. Thank you for always providing such quality cuts."

With a satisfied grin, the butcher presents the four round beef steaks, neatly packaged and ready for you. "There you go, love. These should do the trick."

"Thank you so much," you reply gratefully, accepting the package. "I really appreciate it."

"It's my pleasure," the butcher says warmly. "Enjoy your meal."

With the package of steaks safely tucked into your basket, you bid farewell to the lively atmosphere of the farmers market. The sun's warm rays still linger, casting a golden glow over the bustling streets of Manchester.

As you walk, you can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at having secured the ingredients for tonight's dinner.

Reaching into your basket, you retrieve a pair of gloves, slipping them onto your hands with practiced ease.

Just as you're about to slip the second glove onto your hand, a sudden grip tightens around your arm, pulling you forcefully backward.

Startled, you gasp as you're dragged into the dimly lit entrance of a secluded alleyway, the bustling sounds of the market fading into the distance behind you.

Heart pounding, you struggle against your assailant, your fingers instinctively tightening around the basket's handle, the package of steaks forgotten in your grip.

Panic surges through you as you're dragged deeper into the darkness, your mind racing with fear and uncertainty.

As the man's grip tightens around your arm, you're suddenly face to face with a stranger whose features are etched with menace. His blonde hair falls haphazardly across his scarred face, the jagged line drawing your attention to the intensity in his eyes.

The overpowering stench of rotten egg fills your nostrils, sending a shiver down your spine as he speaks.

"Just the girl I've been looking for," he growls, his words sending a chill through your trembling body. Tears blur your vision as you stare back at him, unable to comprehend the terror unfolding before you.

He was Irish.

In a voice thick with malice, he continues, his words slicing through the air like a blade. "Your husband and his brothers owe me, and I aim to collect. And what better way to send a message than through his darling wife?"

You try to speak, to plead for mercy, but fear has stolen your voice. Before you can utter a word, his fist connects with your jaw, sending you sprawling to the ground.

Gasping for breath, you curl into yourself, the pain radiating through your body like fire.

The man's laughter echoes off the walls, cold and cruel. "They crossed me, and now it's time to pay the price. And you, my dear, are the perfect pawn in this little game of ours."

As he delivers blow after brutal blow, each impact driving the air from your lungs, you cling to the faint hope that someone will come to your rescue.

But as the darkness closes in around you, you realize that you are utterly alone, at the mercy of a man whose cruelty knows no bounds.

With aching limbs, you muster the strength to push yourself upright, the world spinning around you as you struggle to focus through the haze of pain and fear.

Casting a wary glance over your shoulder, you retrieve the basket of food that had fallen to the ground during the attack.

With trembling hands, you wipe the dried blood from the corner of your mouth, the metallic taste lingering on your tongue as a grim reminder of the violence you've endured.

Summoning every ounce of willpower, you force yourself to take a step forward, the basket clutched tightly to your chest. Your movements are slow and unsteady, each step sending waves of agony rippling through your battered body.

As you reach the end of the alleyway, you pause, casting a furtive glance around to ensure that no one is watching. The last thing you need is for someone to see you in this state, vulnerable and exposed.

With a silent prayer for strength, you begin the agonizing journey home, every step a testament to your resilience in the face of unspeakable cruelty. Tears threaten to spill from your waterline, but you refuse to let them fall, determined to maintain a facade of strength until you reach the safety of your own four walls.

With each agonizing step, you inch closer to the familiar sight of 24 Spring Lane, your sanctuary from the horrors of the outside world.

The journey that once felt like a mere stroll now stretches out before you like an eternity, every movement a testament to the relentless ache that pulses through your battered body.

Finally, you reach the doorstep, the key trembling in your hand as you struggle to insert it into the lock. Your fingers fumble with the familiar motion, the simple act of unlocking the door now a monumental task in your weakened state.

As you push open the door and step inside, relief washes over you, tempered only by the searing pain that courses through your body with each labored breath.

The injuries inflicted upon you by your assailant are beginning to take their toll, the dull throb in your ribs now accompanied by a sharp sting at the top of your eyebrow.

Unaware of your husband's presence, you stagger into the living room, your focus consumed by the overwhelming need to seek refuge from the torment of the outside world. But as you drop the basket to the floor and collapse onto the ground, a cry of pain escapes your lips, the weight of your injuries too much to bear alone.

In the dim light of the room, you catch a glimpse of Harry sitting in the corner, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

His expression is unreadable, his gaze fixed on some distant point beyond your line of sight.

As you collapse onto the floor, your body wracked with pain, Harry's instinct kicks in, propelling him across the room in a blur of motion. With a sense of urgency, he drops his cigarette and rushes to your side, his hands reaching out to catch you before your skull can meet the unforgiving wooden floor.

His eyes widen in shock and concern as he takes in the extent of your injuries, his heart clenching at the sight of blood staining your face and clothes. Gently, he cradles the back of your head, his touch both tender and urgent as he ensures your safety in the midst of the chaos.

"M’Love, what happened?" Harry's voice is thick with worry, his usually steady demeanor shaken by the sight of you in such distress.

He carefully brushes the hair from your face, his touch feather-light against your bruised skin.

You struggle to find the words to answer him, the pain making it difficult to form coherent thoughts, let alone speak. But as you meet his gaze, the unspoken understanding that passes between you is enough to convey the depths of your suffering.

Without hesitation, Harry gathers you into his arms, cradling you against his chest with a fierce protectiveness that belies the tenderness in his touch. As he holds you close, you feel a sense of safety wash over you, a comforting reminder that no matter the trials you may face, you will always find refuge in his embrace.

As Harry holds you close, his voice filled with concern, he gently urges you to tell him who is responsible for your injuries. But fear grips you tightly, paralyzing your voice as you shake your head vehemently, unable to form the words to convey the terror that still grips your heart.

"Please, love," Harry implores, his eyes searching yours for any sign of reassurance. "Y’need to tell me who did this. I won't let ‘em hurt you again, I promise."

But the memory of the man's cruel laughter and the violence he inflicted upon you looms large in your mind, filling you with a sense of dread at the thought of facing him again. How can you trust that Harry's promise will hold against such ruthless brutality?

Tears stream down your face as you cling to Harry, your body trembling with the weight of your fear and pain. You long to confide in him, to share the burden of your suffering, but the words remain trapped within you, a silent scream of anguish and despair.

In response to your silent plea, Harry's grip tightens around you, his arms a shield against the darkness that threatens to consume you.

"I swear to you, (Y/N)," he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm against the turmoil raging within you. "Whoever did this won't ever be able to hurt you again. I'll make sure of it."

"I... I don't know his name," you manage to say, your voice trembling with fear and pain. "But he... he had blonde hair and... and a scar."

Harry's expression darkens as he processes your words. "Patrick McDonald," he mutters, his voice laced with anger and recognition. "Bloody hell."

Another wave of pain radiates from your ribs, causing you to instinctively turn your head into your husband's chest, seeking comfort in his embrace.

As you lean against him, Harry's arms tighten around you, a silent vow of protection against the threat that looms on the horizon.

"I'll deal with him," he promises, his voice a low growl. "No one hurts my wife and gets away with it."

“George, Charlie!”

You hadn't even realized they were in the house, lost in the chaos of your own pain and fear, but now they appear, their presence a welcome relief amidst the turmoil.

With wide eyes, George and Charlie rush into the room, their expressions shifting from confusion to concern as they take in the sight of you battered and bruised on the floor.

"What happened to ‘er?" George demands, his voice edged with worry as he kneels beside you, his hands hovering over your injuries.

Harry's jaw clenches with barely contained fury as he speaks the name that has haunted your nightmares since the attack.

"Patrick McDonald," he growls, his voice thick with anger and determination.

Charley lets out a harsh breath, his expression darkening with recognition.

"Bloody hell," he mutters, his fists clenching at his sides.

As the gravity of the situation sinks in, George's gaze flickers between you and his brothers, his features set in a steely resolve.

"We need to find him," he declares, his voice firm with determination.

Harry nods in agreement, his eyes burning with a fierce determination.

"And when we do, he'll wish he'd never laid a hand on her," he vows, his voice a low growl.

With trembling hands, you grip tight onto your husband's waistcoat, your eyes pleading with him not to leave your side.

"Please, H," you beg, your voice wavering with fear and desperation. "Don't leave me."

Harry's gaze softens as he looks down at you, his heart aching at the sight of your pain.

"I have to, m’love," he murmurs, his voice laced with regret. "That bastard deserves hell f’what he did to you, and he's going to get what's coming to him."

You shake your head frantically, tears streaming down your bruised cheeks.

"But I need you here," you plead, your voice barely a whisper amidst the chaos of the room. "I'm scared, H. Please don't leave me alone."

For a moment, Harry's resolve wavers, his love for you outweighing the thirst for vengeance burning within him. But then, with a heavy heart, he gently extricates himself from your grasp, his eyes filled with determination as he rises to his feet.

"I promise, (Y/N)," he says, his voice firm with resolve. "When we find him, he's going to hurt just like he hurt you, s’a promise, and I never, ever break promises. He’ll get what’s coming to him one way or another.”

“By order of the Crimson Brotherhood."

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anonymous-dentist · 7 months ago

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Part Five of the Catboy in the Village AU

Parts: One | Two | Three | Four

Before Cellbit can start any kind of investigation, he passes out from hunger. (Four days without eating will do that, he supposes...)

It's sort of just... quick. He's sitting up in bed so Roier can braid his hair, and then his head and eyes are all fuzzy, and then he's in a different bed with no Roier and with an absolutely killer migraine.

He groans and rolls onto his side and pulls his blanket over his head, because he knows that there's somebody watching him. He can feel their (her) eyes on him, and they're making him feel even more sick than he already feels.

"You're an idiot," the queen declares.

Cellbit just hisses at her. She doesn't deserve his words.

He can practically hear her eye roll. Wood creaks from next to his bed, footsteps clicking against the cold stone floor, and then a light 'creeeeak' as a cabinet is opened on the far side of the room. Grumbling from the queen- insults, mostly. Clinks and clatters as she searches for something.

Cellbit's stomach twists and groans from hunger. Gods, what he'd give to be in his kitchen right now with Roier making dinner less than an arm's length away from him. Smoke in Cellbit's lungs, flavor already burning his tongue, fresh bread from the bakery across the street in front of him as an appetizer.

"There's soup on the table next to you," the queen says.

But it isn't Roier's soup, is the thing. It's probably poisoned. Or, worse, it's gross. Not enough meat, probably. Possibly even vegan, eugh.

How would the queen react if Cellbit told her that he only eats dishes with human flesh cooked into them? Would that be enough for her to send him home?

...Probably not, considering she seemed more upset about him being bad at escaping prison than him actually being in prison in the first place. That opens a whole bag of worms in itself, because how in the world does the queen know about Alcatraz when Cellbit's own in-laws don't? How long has she been stalking him for?

"If you need something lighter, I can have the kitchens send up some bread or crackers," the queen continues.

"I'm not hungry," Cellbit grumbles.

He's gone for longer than four days without food. During the war, it wasn't until Bad picked him up and taught him what his claws and fangs were good for that Cellbit started having dinner more than once a week. When he was put in solitary confinement in prison, he wasn't given food at all, and he was in that cell for at least five days at a time.

He's gone for longer than four days, so it has to be something in the castle that has made Cellbit so weak. Maybe it's something in the air, some kind of magic the queen is employing to try and break him down. The bed sheets might be laced with sickness runes. The guards constantly following Cellbit and Roier around might be warlocks in league with whatever demon is haunting the castle.

"Right," the queen sarcastically says. "You're not hungry. You just passed out after not eating for four days for no reason."

Cellbit bristles so literally that his ears tent the blanket above his head. He grits his teeth together and, not for the first time, he wishes that he still had his claws.

"Exactly," he grits out. He flexes his fingers, pretending the air he's scratching is the queen's stupid (identical) face. "So. Leave."

"I'm good, actually," the queen lightly responds. She sounds beyond pissed off, but she also sounds as calm as can be expected of royalty. Ugh. "I'm going to order some bread for you in just a moment."

Cellbit's ear twitches. "No."

"You're an alchemist, yes? You know what happens when you take a potion on an empty stomach. This might be the healer's quarters, but I will not have you throwing up all over her floor."

Cellbit pulls a bit of his blanket over and away from one of his eyes so he can glare at the queen properly.

"I'm not going to throw up," he scoffs. Who does she think he is?

Now that he can see the queen, he's even more annoyed. More than that, though, he's confused because... why? Why is she here? What kind of warden pays this much attention to their prisoner?

She's rooting through a large wooden cupboard filled with things Cellbit recognizes from his own supplies back home: healing potions, powdered unicorn's horn, phoenix feather, faerie dust.

"When you passed out, you hit your head pretty hard on one of your bedposts," the queen explains, ignoring him entirely. "Your husband has requested that you be given something to help with your pain, and you know that you can't take that without something in your stomach. Stop being stubborn."

"I'm not being stubborn," Cellbit huffs. "And I'm not in pain. So."

He isn't lying; he feels just fine. The only thing hurting is his stomach, and that's normal with starvation. He's more than used to the feeling by now.

"So you're going to take one dose of this potion to make your husband happy."

Oh, and now she's blackmailing him with Roier's emotions. Great.

Unfortunately for the queen, Cellbit knows his husband well enough to know that, if Roier wanted him to take a potion, he would be in the room force-feeding it to him himself. He wouldn't have Cellbit's current number one worst enemy try and do it, he isn't that cruel.

...Now that Cellbit thinks of it, where is Roier?

A bolt of panic grips Cellbit around his heart and he sits up in a flash, blanket flying off of him as his entire body tenses. His ears stick up on end, straining for any sign of Roier. Nothing.

"Where is he?" Cellbit demands.

He looks around the room and sees absolutely nothing that he can use as a weapon. Great. It's fine. It's fine! He can just-

Cellbit's vision swims, and he feels himself tipping to the side and off of the bed. The queen shouts, but he can't hear whatever she says over the sound of nothingness as he loses consciousness for the second time that day.

It takes much less time for him to wake up this time. He's up and trying to get to his feet within seconds of hitting the floor, his ears flat against his head and his eyes wide with panic as he fully decides that the queen may have, in fact, killed Roier. She had Cellbit drugged and she had Roier killed and now she's going to keep Cellbit in a much worse cell and she's going to torture him until he agrees that he's her brother and-

He's shocked back to reality as a blanket is dropped over his head from above. What?

"Roier is fine," the queen gently says. She's above him now, too- on the bed, probably, why? Is she trying to smother him? "He's the one who brought you here. He and the healer went to get some ice from the kitchens. She was going to go by herself, but he wanted to make sure she wouldn't try and poison you."

What a hero. Of course Roier would worry about the ice being poisoned, he and Cellbit both know a hundred ways to poison someone. It's hard not to know how to poison people in the potion business.

...But she's lying. The queen is lying. She hasn't told Cellbit the truth once since she first barged into his store.

...But the blanket over Cellbit's head is really heavy. Was it this heavy before? No, right?

Cellbit kneads his fingers into the knees of his trousers. He twists his wedding ring around his finger. His nose twitches. His lungs hurt.

"Still works," the queen mutters. What does that mean?

A few short, yet excruciatingly-long, moments of blanket and panic later, the door to the room slams open, and a pair of beautifully-familiar boots thud towards Cellbit. A second later, the blanket is ripped off of his head, and there's Roier holding a bowl of ice and looking so handsomely concerned.

"Gatinho..." he breathes.

And then he scowls and plops onto the ground in front of Cellbit, cross-legged. He puts the bowl down on his lap, leans forward, and grabs Cellbit by the face with both hands and squishes his cheeks together.

"I fucking told you to eat!" he shouts, only halfway angry. He squishes Cellbit's cheeks harder. "And now you are on the floor. Why are you on the floor, eh?"

"He fell," the queen responds. She's still on the bed, cross-legged herself, with her chin resting against her fist. "He wanted to search for you."

Roier 'awww's once before gently shaking Cellbit's head back and forth.

"What have I told you?" he scolds. "I'll always come back for you. Even when I die, I'll just haunt you as a sexy ghost. I'm not letting any stupid queen get rid of me?"

"Hey!" the queen protests.

Cellbit smiles, though, and he reaches up to place his hands over Roier's.

"Desculpe, guapito," he says.

Roier smiles back, his anger slowly fading from his face.

"Your forehead is all purple," he tells Cellbit. "Come here..."

He takes the blanket off of the floor and wraps it around a handful of ice cubes. It's a lumpy cold mess, but it's sweet, so Cellbit doesn't complain too much as Roier softly presses the makeshift ice pack against Cellbit's forehead.

Cellbit leans into his touch, eyes fluttering shut. He bites back a happy little purr. (Not in front of the queen...!)

Someone else walks into the room, but Cellbit couldn't care less about them. They have to be the healer, but there's nothing wrong with him. Nothing he can't fix himself with the right ingredients, anyway.

He cracks an eye open and glares up at the queen, who looks... thoughtful. Uh-oh.

"I'm not taking the potion," he tells her. "I don't drink anything I don't make myself."

The queen shrugs. "That's fine, then. There's a cauldron on the other side of the room. Right, Niki?"

She looks over her shoulder, and Cellbit can just barely make out a head of pink hair. Must be 'Niki', then. The healer.

"That's right!" the healer agrees. "You can use what you want! It's all in here somewhere!"

Roier leans in close and whispers, "That's Niki. She talks a lot about empanadas."

Cellbit's stomach grumbles at the mention of food, and he groans.

"Please don't mention food right now," he sighs, voice low.

"Mmm, or I can, and you'll eat something and we can go back to our room," Roier hums. He tenderly strokes Cellbit's cheek. "I'm in the mood for empanadas right now, actually. Ah, or mixiotes... or gorditas..."

Cellbit slumps forward against Roier's shoulder, bringing the ice with him.

"Guapito, please..." he whines.

"If you're hungry, I can have any of that made for you," the queen offers.

A growl bubbles up from Cellbit's throat, but Roier covers it up with a loud, "Ah! But how do we know you won't put poison in it, hmm?"

"Because I wouldn't poison my brother or my brother-in-law? That would be ridiculous!"

"Mhmm. But how can we be sure?"

"Let Roier cook for the both of us," Cellbit says. "That way, we know for sure that it'll be safe."

A beat. And then:

"Are you being serious right now?" the queen demands. "That was why you wouldn't eat? Because your husband wasn't cooking it for you?"

Cellbit turns his head to glare up at her. "You would starve yourself, too, if you had to go from his cooking to someone else's. His food is perfect. He could be a professional, you know."

The queen looks absolutely shocked. Positively bewildered. Confused beyond all belief. Angry, too. Annoyed.

"You are. Ridiculous," she stammers out. "But... fine. Yes! You should have just asked from the beginning! Oh my gods! You should have asked!"

She continues ranting about how silly Cellbit is for not trusting her despite them literally being family, which is absolutely ridiculous because, A, they aren't family, and, B, she literally knocked him out and kidnapped him and his husband and is holding them both captive.

But Cellbit doesn't listen. Instead, he thinks. Once he's back on his feet, he can actually start investigating. And then? He and Roier can go.

His stomach grumbles again; Roier giggles and pokes at Cellbit's belly and starts listing out potential dinner options in order of Cellbit's favorites to his least favorites.

...But first, dinner.

Finally.

#a.d.'s fics i suppose #a.d.'s fics i suppose.#catboy in the village au #was gonna write something else but then i decided i wanted them to Talk a little #fun fact: ba gi knows the blanket trick because it used to calm cell down when he was a kid #and it still works now #even though he himself doesn't know how or why it works #because he hasn't done it since he was a kid and he doesn't remember being a kid

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lexluvswriting · 7 months ago

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☆ Too Sweet.

"I think I'll take my whiskey neat, my coffee black and my bed at three, you're too sweet for me..."

- Too Sweet; Hozier.

-> Pairing: Loki x fem! chubby!reader.

-> CW: 18+ CONTENT! NSFW! SMUT AHEAD! MINORS, DNI. fem! reader! she/her prns used, fem genitalia used. chubby reader!

-> TW: Shibari! Consent discussed beforehand, (light) dubcon bc like reader is tied up, no use of y/n, porn with slight plot, p in v, gagging, bondage, praising and light body worship? Loki likes thick girls. argue w the wall. Mentions of sex in front of a mirror at the end !! <3

W/C: 1.8k

╰┈➤ Lex's note: okay... is this totally self indulgent? yes. have i gone down a massive Loki spree? yes. Hozier, the man you are. YES, fans, I HAVE been listening to 'Too Sweet' by Hozier on repeat for the last 10 minutes. How did you know aha ha. Erm, I hope i ate w this. i think i did? but if nobody reassures me as soon as they read this then ill probably die (joke). lmk how we feel about this!!

Your eyes were captivating.

The colour seemed to look correct only in your irises, Loki believed. He loved you. He loved every breath you stole, and every breath you gave. He loved looking at your lips and zoning out on them when you'd babble inanely on a topic you thoroughly enjoyed. Loved the way you'd bite at your lip when you tried to hide a cheeky smile. Loki loved the way you fidgeted with the jewellery you wore- the many necklaces layered, the many bracelets with charms that jingled and clinked together softly every time you waved your arms around. He especially loved the way you styled yourself- he was always thoroughly amused and interested in the way you expressed yourself through your choices of fashion. The colours you used seemed to look good on you only. As well as on the bedroom floor after he'd tear them off you.

There was once a time where Loki Laufeyson, God of Mischief, thought you were too sweet for him. You were sweet cocktails, and milky brown coffees with a pump of sugary syrup. You were fresh fruits and cream, an innocent treat on a lovely summer's day.

While he was the absolute epitome of bitterness. Whiskey, neat. Coffee, black. Black as the hole in his heart every time he'd be distant from you. So he made you his muse- he became your shadow.

And he didn't regret it one bit- not with the way you currently looked beneath him.

Your glossy lips were smudged and puffy from being kissed before a ball gag split them apart, nestled comfortably in between to make your sentences a mumbled whine. The rope that wound around your body made your plush skin bulge slightly against the tightness of the confines, holding every bit of fabric from your clothing in place tight as possible, as if it was there for one purpose only. He was a firm believer in having a bit of meat in his meals, always. So when he saw the way the soft fat of your thighs, and the way the smooth curves of your breasts bulged against the snug of the shibari rope, his cock twitched, and he couldn't help but laugh softly. Look at him, cock jumping in his pants like a virgin. How laughable.

It was your fault, of course. Your hazy, lust-filled eyes as you happily squirmed while he pulled the rope around you carefully, the process slow and calculated, pressing his lips over every curve, every surface of skin like worship at a temple. The temple he was about to destroy.

"My pretty girl... my goddess." He couldn't help but gush sweetness when it came to you, cupping your face as he stood in front of you, his legs hitting the side of the bed. You were on your knees, calves tucked under you as you sat on your haunches, bound prettily with dark green rope that contrasted your skin with a soft glow- his choice, of course. When you suggested the concept of 'shibari' to him, he was sceptical at first. But when he saw why it was revered as an 'art', he practically frothed at the mouth, cock rising in his pants at the ideas that formed.

You, currently bound, gagged and absolutely loving life, hummed in response to his cooing praise, leaning into his touch as you wiggled happily on the shared bed, looking up at him with hazy, lustful eyes that were glazed over with adoration- and an insatiable need for him. Your cunt clenched eagerly around nothing, but his fingers running over the line of your jaw, down your throat, and over the rope that cut into your skin gently was promise enough that he'd give you the attention you craved so desperately.

"You drive me mad, darling. Do you like that? Do you like knowing this," He ran a hand down his chest, over his bulge, which was not discreet in the slightest with the way it tented in his pants, "Absolutely aches for you? This is what you do to me." He hissed as he pulled himself free from the confines of his trousers, and he inwardly grinned at the way your eyes widened in delight as you whined, watching him stroke himself.

He wore a dark green button down shirt, sleeves rolled up at the elbow with the two top buttons undone. His hair was mussed in that attractive messy way that you always talked about. He didn't know what you meant, but he figured it was something good if you were always 'jumping his bones' about it. He had set the scene perfectly for you both tonight, but the look in your eyes was enough for him to give in already. He felt warmth tingle through him as he stroked himself, glancing down at the way he leaked for you. Always for you. Such a spoilt girl. His girl.

Loki grit his teeth, before pulling you close by the rope harness around your torso, his cock nudging against your stomach, pre cum smearing against your skin, making you whine through the ball gag. Drool began to run down the sides of your lips, and the God let out a mirthful chuckle, stroking the side of your face before pulling your chin up, making you look at him. "Such a needy little thing. So spoiled. Shall I spoil you more, hm?"

He forced you around gently, your naked back against his clothed chest, your body squirming against his eagerly, your pretty eyes blinking up at him as you whined garbled pleas, rocking your hips back impatiently. Your restricted movement made Loki smile, and he chuckled as he pressed his lips to the back of your neck, before kissing straight down, over your spine.

"My sweet girl. My pretty goddess. A delicacy, all for me." He cooed, and you shuddered, eyelids fluttering shut as you keened softly for him, for the way his hands groped you, running over the soft pudge that shaped your body. Loki lost himself, almost completely forgetting his weeping erection as he kissed down your back, over your shoulders, around your neck. Then, with a wave of his left hand while his right hand pushed you down, the ropes shifted, freeing your thighs to be spread before you were tied again, ass arced up in the air on display for him.

His hands roamed over the globes, and he pressed his kisses- as well as a few loving nips that made you squeak, before he leaned down to what he was looking for. His eyes honed in on your glistening cunt, your folds wet and twitching prettily as he blew cold air before chuckling to himself, like you were an amusing little toy. He had to stop himself from being too cruel, and licked at the nectar that seeped from your slit, enjoying the way you whined for him. "Very vocal tonight, my love." He sighed mockingly, as if you were troubling him. Of course you were, when you tasted as sweet as you did. Almost too sweet.

He knelt in front of the bed and lapped at you hungrily, hands gripping at your bound flesh enough to leave red lines from where his large fingers marked you. He let out a soft growl that dissolved into a groan- how could something as sweet and gentle as you get him so riled up? The depravity that tore through him would scare away any normal partner.

He supposed he should've sent a little 'thank you' to whatever higher power decided you'd be absolutely perfect in creation then. His tongue was hot against your sex, and his soft pants made your toes curl and sent your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he pulled you apart with his mouth. He absolutely loved eating you out- loved the way he could feel you fall apart on his tongue. That was his power. Putting you on the throne of the world with his love. Your body flinched and twitched as he ate you out so desperately, and you whined in response to the image that procured in your head- chin glistening, lips smudged from how intensely he focused on his craft; the craft of making you cum. He licked and sucked, and from the way you got wetter, he could tell you were thinking about him. He toyed with you a bit more before finally letting you cum, directing his tongue to work and stroke

"Getting restless, my love?" He hummed, licking his lips and wearing a fox-like grin as he lifted his left hand, slipping two careful fingers into you to scissor and stretch your weeping cunt in preparation for what you had been craving for the past hour and a bit. His other hand was spent working himself, though he was stiff as a pole from the moment you had shyly offered him the rope and the salacious proposition. You both had been craving this for the longest time- of course, you had spent all day together anyway, but the magic in the intimacy that happened once night shrouded your part of the world as indescribable.

Usually, he could lovingly torment you for hours, watching you helplessly drip your arousal onto the sheets below, but tonight was all about you. You wanted him to be rough, and mean, the facade he usually liked to put on- but he couldn’t help but worship the curves that made up your body, his gentleness a refreshing buffer from the depravity you two usually indulged in. So when your garbled moans sounded, Loki immediately removed his fingers and aligned himself at your sopping wet entrance, substituting his digits for his godly cock, pushing himself in and releasing a guttural groan- one that came from the depths as he felt your cunt greedily suck him in, enveloping him in your warmth, as if you were seducing him to never leave as he sank deeper within you. He’s completely drunk on you, losing his cool as his eyes hone in on where you two meet, enjoying the feeling of your clenching as he repeatedly sinks into you with slow, deliberate thrusts.

He glances up to see your face, only to notice your head facing forward, your darling eyes transfixed on- Ah. He understands and leans forward to wrap a careful hand around your throat, holding it gently as he pulled you up, both of you watching the mirror that was ‘coincidentally’ placed in front of your bed- you had no regrets, and he certainly put it to use for you the first night you two shared the room. Your eyes met in the reflection, and his head tilted coyly, nudging the side of your face gently as he humped into you, while you were still tied up all pretty for him. Your gagged moans and whines were music, and he swore that with every thrust, he could hear the sound of wedding bells somewhere off in the distance.

Sometimes Loki wonders if you’re too sweet for him. But when he sees your perfect eyes rolling into the back of your head as his calculated thrusts send his cock stretching you out for him, he’s content. When he sees your sweet little cheeks flushed pink as you eagerly watch with glossy, lust-glazed eyes, the image of yourself being impaled on his cock over and over, Loki realises that you’re perfect.

╰┈➤ Lex's note 2: AH i didn't go too crazy w this pls forgive me, i was in the mood for somethin soft 🙂‍↕️ BUT ! i will HAPPILY take requests for more 😗

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evolutionsvoid · 7 months ago

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Name: Great Serratodus

Title: Razor Jaw Wyvern

Species: Piscine Wyvern

Element: Water

Status: Bleed

The Serratodus are small monsters that dwell in tropical environments where water is plenty, swimming through flooded zones and marshy areas. In most cases, they don't draw too much attention to themselves, just another piscine lurking in the waters. They seem to mind their own business, only nipping at those who get too close. However, this calm facade of their melts away the second a drop of blood hits the surface. At the faintest whiff of blood, the Serratodus are thrown into a frenzy. They leap, thrash and gnash their razor jaws in excitement, eager to taste prey. The waters will boil with their frenzy, as they rush to the source of the smell in hopes of a meaty meal. Serratodus are seen as ravenous scavengers, feeding on the dead and bringing down those that are close enough to dead. Any sign of weakness or injury shown in their waters is seen as an opportunity for food, and they will assault the wounded beast with a whirlpool of sharp teeth to finish the job and strip the corpse clean. Though they have a powerful bite, Serratodus do not target healthy prey, only the dead and dying interest them. However, situations are quick to change if the Great Serratodus is around. Though their younger brethren hesitate to feed until blood is spilled, the Great Serratodus chooses to draw first blood for themselves.

The Great Serratodus are full grown adults of the species that have proven themselves in size, strength and ferocity. While the younger ones are confined to the waters, they have developed a strong pair of legs that allows them to stalk onto the shore. Big, bulky and with a nasty jaw full of blades, the Great Serratodus is on the hunt for prey. They tend to stick close to the waters, with the aim to wound another large monster and drive them into the waiting jaws of their lessers. While the Great Serratodus is not the most powerful beast in the ecosystem, they can quickly gain the upper hand with sheer numbers if foes are foolish enough to remain in the water. The scent of blood drives the Serratodus wild, and they will converge upon the wounded beast and pull them into a maelstrom of gnashing jaws. Other beasts hardly stand a chance against the relentless assault, all while the Great Serratodus knocks them about with their bulky body and tears into them with tooth and spine. When enraged, the Great Serratodus will unveil rows of razor sharp teeth on its bulbous head, as well as spines that will protrude from open slits. These teeth are anchored to strong muscles, that will use small rapid movements to vibrate them at high speeds. With this, the Great Serratodus is able to cleave through flesh and bone, using powerful blasts of water from its gills to launch itself forward and disorient foes. These same gill blasts also help knock off other Serratodus who may bite into their Great's hide when lost in the bloody frenzy.

While the lessers typically cause no issues for villages as long as folk are careful, the presence of a Great Serratodus usually calls for hunters to come in and dispatch it. These larger specimens will target beasts of burden and livestock who get close to the water, and any evidence of injury will lure one in. Woe be to any trade caravan carrying fresh meat with them, as the scent will certainly grab their attention. Hunters often put out bounties on these monsters as well, due to their tendency to take advantage of other hunts. There are few things more frustrating than putting in the time, energy and effort to wear down a target monster, only to have a Great Serratodus barge into the battle and tear it to pieces. Many hunters share frustrated stories of their kills being stolen, or never having the chance to carve their reward after a target perishes near the water. All it takes is for one quest to be spoiled by one of these monsters, and then the bounty is immediately slapped onto the quest board.

Though many hunters would relish in the idea of taking down the beast that devoured their bounty, the Great Serratodus is no easy prey. On their own, their bulk makes them quite powerful and their razor sharp teeth and spines can easily slice through armor and flesh. To make it worse, their gills releasing blasts of water allows them to zoom across the zone, evading attacks and blindsiding hunters with charges and rocketing bites. And once the Great Serratodus draws blood, the hunt gets much more chaotic. If a hunter is inflicted with bleed, the lesser Serratodus in the area will go absolutely berserk. They will whip themselves into a frenzy and descend upon the wounded hunter in a ravenous horde. Though a single Serratodus is an easy foe to fend off, having a dozen of them launching themselves at you is an utter nightmare. Wounded hunters are forced to fight or flee when faced with these hungry fish, and it isn't easy when the Great is nearby dishing out even more pain. When it is enraged, its head full of teeth will cause an even higher chance of bleeding and allows them to rip through the environment like a saw. Their protruding spines also cause simple attacks like hip checks and tail whips to have a chance to inflict bleed as well. And if it has fed recently, its watery gill blasts will take on a crimson hue...

While the Great Serratodus and its horde can be daunting, there are ways to mitigate the frustrations. Though the Serratodus are hungry for blood and meat, they will not pass up food that doesn't resist. Dropping raw meat or slaying small monsters will create a new target for the fish, who will turn their attention upon this meal instead. Flash bombs can also be used to blind the swarm, making it harder for them to coordinate an attack. For the Great Serratodus, it is advised that hunters drive them to dry land, where they are more awkward and slow. Meat can also be used to entice them, and a wise hunter would leave those tainted with the likes of poison and paralysis to weaken the target. Using the presence of other large monsters can help with the fight as well, as the piscine will spend more of its energy trying to bring down the bigger meal. With bleed being an issue, stocking up on items to cure it is a must. Lifepowders are also highly recommended to aid those being pursued by the swarm, as they do not have time to stop and heal. Like the Great Serratodus itself, the use of teamwork and numbers can help win the day. Thankfully, your fellow hunters aren't liable to start chewing into you the second you fall over...

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"Great Serratodus"

You know what month it is, and thus what time it is! Indeed! Mer-may! The time of the year where I post anything aquatic related to make up for the fact I haven't drawn anything mermaid-like! So get ready for fish, whales and sea beasts, because I always fail to prepare for these things, so enjoy what I hastily pull from my posting folder!

And you know it ain't a Monster Hunter fan monster if it isn't a Piscine Wyvern! That and crabs, it's all I make! For now....

#piscine wyvern #monster #fish #piranha #monster hunter #fan monster #art #drawing

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flowerbetweenfangs · 6 months ago

Text

Love Bite

6.2k words.

CW: Dead lover (although not seen dead), general zombie/undead activities. While the ghouls are sapient/pass the harkness test, they are made up of an amalgamation of human bodies. If that disturbs you, I would skip this one.

Disclaimer: I haven't seen/played or consumed any Fallout media, these ghouls aren't like those (at least not intentionally). They're more like Frankenstein's monsters,/the ghouls from Tokyo Ghoul with a more spiritual connection.

Summary: A woman goes to the undead base on feeding night to get some answers... And maybe more from their leader.

This was originally written as a script, and I've repurposed it as a short story. I hope the switch works.

The radio had been blaring for hours, warning that it was feeding night. While most of the undead would be confined to hallowed ground, a few stragglers had been spotted roaming the streets. It wasn’t unheard of for a living human to be on the receiving end of a life changing, or ending, bite. The only people out were the Cleaners, driving slowly in armored vehicles, coming out in special suits that, supposedly, a ghoul couldn’t bite through.

You had managed to avoid being seen by both, ducking around corners and sprinting past streetlights. The belt around your waist was heavy, but filled with the items needed to fend off an undead that ventured too close. They had formed a shaky peace with the humans who occupied the town, offering their services as both mediums and mercenaries. Tougher than the average human, with a connection to the veil between life and death. Their prices were never cheap, of course, but it seemed to be something people would pay for.

In return, they were allowed free run once a night to feast. Although if the rumors were true, then the ghouls would also pay for access to fresh meat outside of the allotted date. The same thing that brought them to life wouldn’t last forever, and there were whispers of the undead showing up with fresher body parts than they had previously.

Nothing official, of course. But rumors, like hordes, spread fast and couldn’t be contained for long.

You weren’t sure if them eating the living or using their bodies for… Bodies was worse.

As you passed another armored truck, two Suits scraped up a mishmash of ghoul and its victim. Both had lost the fight.

Pushing it out of your mind, you swallowed and steeled yourself for what was to come.

The moon had reached its high point when you arrived at the cathedral. Iron gates surrounded it on all sides. You could see Roamers out front, moaning in their own language with an occasional bit of the local tongue slipped in. Judging by how human their bodies still looked, they must have been recently turned.

Walking around, you found a hole in the fence and wriggled under it. Your belt caught, stopping you against where sidewalk met grass. Pulling a baton free, you clutched it one hand, and unclipped the belt with the other.

As fast as you could, you crawled under the pickets, wincing as your shirt snagged on one and ripped. With the moaning and groaning in the background, you hoped the sound was masked. Sucking in your stomach, you wriggled under and quickly yanked the belt after you, quickly putting it back on before standing.

A paper fell out of your unbuttoned pouch, and you snatched it up, trying to shove the contents back inside while keeping your head on a swivel.

Keeping the baton out, you stared at the stained glass windows. Once upon a time, they had shown images of doves, holy books, and saints. Now, they showed the undead, brought to life by a mixture of science and a bit of magic. Some said they were the second coming, but you didn’t believe it.

Gritting your teeth, you made a beeline for the side door. The front was filled with the roamers. A few were passed out on the ground, chests rising and falling with the memory of breathing.

It took all your self-control not to turn around and go through the hole you came through.

It was all going well, until you felt a wet spot on the back of your shirt. Pausing, you put a hand to the spot, and pulled away your fingers, heart leaping in your throat when you saw they came away red.

Blood.

A warm summer breeze hit you, and the creaking of ancient bones filled the air as the roamers turned in your direction. Cloudy eyes squinted as nostrils flared. Clutching the baton, you ran to the side door.

The handle felt slick in your grasp as you fumbled with it. As you tugged, the sound of metal scraping on metal seemed so loud, no doubt alerting the hoard of your presence if your blood already hadn’t.

Some shuffled toward you, heads tilted to the side as they seemed to take you in, But before you could get a better look, you yanked the door open and ran inside, slamming it behind you.

A few candles lit up the hallway as florescent lights flickered above enough to give you pause. Panting, you clutched the weapon tighter as you waited for something to burst from the darkness.

Something instead hit the door behind you, spurring you forward. Casting a glance over your shoulder, you saw a few staring at you through the glass. Sweaty palm prints pressed against the pane as they leaned against it. Black fluid seeped from lips as they sniffed.

Backing away, you had barely turned around when you nearly slammed into a figure in the dark. You took a swing, feeling it connect. A grunt told you it made an impact. The scent of posies and peppermint filled your nose, making your hair stand on end.

Then, a large hand wrapped around your arm, twisting it to make you drop the weapon, Your body turned with it, dumping a few of your belt’s contents onto the floor. Before your arm snapped, you saw the amber eyes, a signature of the resurrected dead.

He sniffed, the ichor seeping from his lips. Unlike the Roamers outside, it was less viscous and more of a dark grey as opposed to pure black.

You brought your hand back to strike him, but he let go, sending you to the floor in a heap. Before you could get your bearings, he reached down and picked up the paper.

“You’re here to see Romero?” His teeth looked like they had been filed to a point. His grey tongue stewed in more drool.

The raspy voice sent another chill up your spine. Sure, ghouls could speak, but it was one thing to hear it over a radio or television, another thing to hear it in person.

“Y-yeah.” You managed to say, eyeing your weapon. As you inched toward it, you felt your stomach drop as the creature’s hand grabbed your shoulder, then slid down to your bicep.

Unceremoniously hauled to your feet, you winced and waited for the bite….

But it never came.

“Very well….” He started to walk, all but pulling down the hallway. To keep yourself from being dragged, you regained your footing and did your best to match the much larger man’s pace.

When you both came to double doors leading the auditorium, you saw the name plate.

Romero.

The ghoul knocked on the door, his meaty fist making it echo in the empty hall. You squinted, half expecting more undead to come scrambling out of the dark and to devour you.

“Enter.” A voice called from on the other side of the door. It was muffled, but your heart still skipped a beat at how… Familiar it sounded.

Your escort opened the door. The creaking drug out, and your heart skipped a beat to see…

A man you’d never seen before. The scarred, mismatched skin of a ghoul covered his body, along with the split coloring of black and white on his scalp, one half straight, the other curly. His attire was a suit, pressed, with a bright red tie.

He was sat at a desk next to the pulpit, flipping through a file. Classical music softly played on a record player, not audible beyond the room.

“Leave us, please.” He didn’t look up from his file.

The escort’s grip on your arm loosened. Hot breath stirred at your neck, and you turned at the last second, seeing his opened mouth mere inches from your shoulder.

“Get your mouth away from her.” The file hit the desk, scattering a few loose pieces of paper. Romero finally looked up, eyes shimmering in the candlelight.

Your escort stepped away, wiping his mouth and slurping down the drool.

“How would you like it if someone gave you a plate of food they’d taken a bite out of?” Romero’s eyes narrowed, and he snapped his fingers, pointing to the door.

“Sorry boss, won’t happen again.”

“Make sure of it.” Romero followed him to the door. The creaking of his joints made you grit your teeth. His movements were just slow enough to look strange. How long had it been since you fed? Your eyes flicked to the desk again, where you saw a plate, only juices remaining of what he’d been eating.

Swallowing, you stood up straight, trying to not show fear.

Romero closed the door, turning the lock and hanging the key on a nail next to it.

“So.” He deeply sighed, closing his eyes. Veins protruded from his skin, slithering across his brow and cheeks. “You’ve come to the cathedral during feeding night.”

He opened his eyes, the veins stopped squirming, and he began to walk toward you, hands clasped behind his back. When he stopped, the scent of peppermint rolled over you. Sweat beaded on your upper lip as you swallowed, trying to not spit as the scent burrowed its way into your mouth and tongue.

“I’m amazed the horde didn’t take you at the gate.” He towered over you, eyes tracking back and forth as he sized you up.

Your breath caught in your throat as memories flooded back. Those eyes… So long ago.

They looked at you with love.

“Relax.” He turned to the side and waved a dismissive hand through the air, as if trying to rid himself of a bad smell. “I’m not fond of eating someone whose mind would be a detriment to my intellect.”

“A detriment?” You raised a brow, shaking the thoughts from your mind. Right. The creature in front of you was a thief!

“That’s how I would describe your actions. Too stupid to live.” He unfolded the piece of paper, staring at the flyer and rolling his eyes.

“If more people like you were in power, the undead would have overtaken the city in months when we first started to walk.”

“Are you going to insult me this whole time?” You clenched your fists. “If this is how you treat everyone, I’m amazed the undead weren’t mowed down when you first started to walk.”

“Have a seat.” He gestured to the pew in front of the desk, before pulling open a drawer. “Clementine? Cranberries?”

“What?” You expected to see a few cans or fruit cups, but your mouth watered when he pulled out the fresh produce, along with a bottle of water.

“You think we only eat the flesh of the dead?” He tossed you the bottle of water, which you caught. Checking to make sure that it hadn’t been opened or had holes in the cap, you slowly opened it. “You’ve got a lot to learn.”

Finishing the water bottle, you set it next to you on the pew. You heart skipped a beat as his eyes fell on you again, now glittering with curiosity.

“You’re too old for your actions to be a dare or some childish foolhardiness.” Romero didn’t sit, but leaned on his desk. It creaked under his weight. “Did a spurned lover put you out? Angry boss threw you here because you fell behind on your performance?”

You shook your head. Why was he asking so many questions?

Sweat trickled down your neck as you pushed down the memories starting to rear their heads again. Grabbing the water bottle, you made a show of crushing it down until only a small ring of plastic was under the cap.

“Are you in debt? Terminally ill?” His voice was softer, light returning to his eyes. His cheeks and hands started to look less clammy. “Because if it’s the latter, you’ll find no reprieve here. A vampire might be more to your liking.”

“If I had those problems, then I would have let the hordes in the street take me. Maybe I would have been someone dragging terrified living through the halls.” You put a hand to your bicep, knowing it was likely going to bruise. At least a handprint was better than a bite mark.

“You’ve seen my kind.” The kindness was gone as he all but bit off each word. He held up an arm, showing where his wrist met the rest of his arm. The skin tones were slightly different. “Mismatched and sewn together from the best parts the dead—” He paused, rolling his eyes in a reluctant admittance. “—And occasional living, offer. We pay for the bodies, they pay us for the minds.”

“Yes.” You nodded to the paper in his hand. “I’ve seen it. Flyers around town, teasing them with promises of being able to talk to loved ones who passed on, or helping the police find criminals.”

“Is that why you’ve come?” He smiled, crumpling the paper in his fist and tossing it over his shoulder.

Inhaling sharply, you gripped your pant legs, nails digging into the fabric.

“Did I hit a nerve?” The smile grew larger, but didn’t reach his eyes. A small part of you was relieved.

“I take it you didn’t come prepared with money?”

“The flyer didn’t—”

“I never take clients on feeding nights.” He held up a hand to cut you off, then stepped down the stairs to close the distance between you. “Too grisly. Lots of people upset that I’m eating in front of them.”

You couldn’t hide your disgust as your lip drew backward and your face scrunched up. Leaning back in the pew, you crossed your arms. So, you’d come all this way for nothing?

“I’ve consumed lots of minds over the years.” He put two fingers to his temples. “So many memories jumbled together. It’s hard to tell who they originally belonged to. The process to get… Specific can be taxing. Of course, these things don’t come cheap, but there are many who are willing to pay if it means getting some closure from a loved one.”

The eyes… They stared at you, trying to gauge your reaction. When your face relaxed, you were rewarded with a clementine. Peeling back the skin, you stared down at the fruit.

“Usually something is needed to trigger recollection. A trinket. A song.” His voice was a lot closer. Closing your eyes, you didn’t dare look up to see how near he was to your face. Surprisingly, you could smell mint mixed in with his warm breath.

“A smell…”

A breeze stirred. And the memories lanced their way through your mind. Even when your squeezed your eyes shut, they remained.

“I can see it now, actually.” Romero’s voice was faint, fading into the ambience of downtown. A train whistled, and you sat on a bench, a suitcase at your side.

“You were supposed to meet him at the train station.” Romero’s voice was gone. The cadence… The tone… the speech pattern. You didn’t dare turn around to face him, for fear that everything would fade away. His voice. The one that matched the eyes.

“Both of you wanted to escape to a new city, leave this life behind. A place without the undead. Where you wouldn’t have to worry about the pressures of your families. Somewhere no one knew either of you. A clean slate. Thrive, not just survive.”

“But his family had debts.” The scene began to fade away as a clock above the train tracks spun, people and other occupants of the station moved by in a blur.

“Ones that buried them worse than the corpses that make up the graveyard. They gave up everything to make it. Gambling on someone that they hoped would be the light at the end of their miserable tunnel.”

The cathedral returned, and you saw Romero’s mismatched hand out of the corner of your eye.

“He was far from the only one.” The ghoul dropped his hand and shook his head. The pew creaked as he stood back in front of you.

“His body was the base for my current form.” He ran his hands over his suit, fingers tracing over the buttons. For a moment, you thought he would undo them and show you the patchwork beneath it.

“But, like many, it needed better pieces. Parts had to be replaced. So many minds were absorbed in creating this.” His hands went back to his temples, pointer fingers resting on them.

“Of… Me?” He sounded unsure, brow furrowing as his straight hair fell over his eyes. “Us?”

His fingers went from his temples to his eyelids.

“The eyes stayed, though. His were lovely. Although I suppose you knew that the moment ours met.”

You sucked in air through your teeth.

“What…” He shook his head and dropped his hands, placing a hand on his chest. His voice lacked bravado. For a moment, it looked like a tear was shimmering on his cheek. “Who he was doesn’t exist anymore. He’s… sorry. That he left you waiting. But he’s glad to see you’re doing well.”

Your heart fell into your stomach. If you hadn’t been sitting, then your legs would have given out. Panting, you placed a hand on your chest in a mirror of his own pose.

“Interesting…” His hand went to cover his mouth, but you would still hear his words. “Memories of the dead… Creating feelings.”

He made a fist and cleared his throat, body becoming stiff.

“Is that all you needed to hear? I think we’re pushing things as we are.”

“How did you do all that? Make me see that night?” Your words came out barely above a whisper. Your voice shook with each word. “Is this some trick?”

Your heart fluttered, and you reached out to touch the ghoul, as if that would bring them all back again.

“Forgive me, it was a mistake to refer to him in the present tense.” He started to back away from you, waving his hand in that dismissive way. “I don’t mean to make you angry.”

“I’m…” You felt tears slipping down your cheeks, large and hot. They fell down onto your collar and chest. “Not angry…” It surprised you, but you realized it was the truth. You certainly weren’t happy… But far from… The fury you expected.

“Such an expression doesn’t do you justice.” His expression softened, and his hand cupped your soaked cheek.

“You’re still radiant despite it.”

“Is this… Normal?”

“Your presence is pulling him to the forefront. Quieting the others.” He put a finger to his lips with his freehand, closing his eyes. Inhaling deeply, he exhaled the minty breath over your face, covering you with goosebumps.

You didn’t dare say anything. Didn’t breathe. Worried that any noise you made would send him back to the hive mind. Losing him forever. A second death after seeing him for only a short amount of time.

How could people subject themselves to this?

“There are a lot of minds I’ve absorbed. Memories.” His hand went from your cheek to the curve of your neck.

“But never emotions.”

“So does that mean he’s… Piloting you right now?” You felt silly for asking. Of course he wouldn’t be. Why would he refer himself to the third person?

“It would be impossible to bring him back, I apologize.” He dropped his hand. The icy cold of your cheek stung, like he’d slapped it.

“And yet…”

You finally sucked in a breath. Your heart slammed against your ribs, a battering ram that threatened to break them. Swallowing hard, you placed your palms on the back of the pew and forced yourself to stand.

“I appreciate all you’ve done. But I think we’re moving past a professional relationship.”

“Right. Yes.” He finally broke the gaze, and it was like a piece of you was torn free. “There is a cot that you can stay on until feeding night is over. Once the sun is out, then you can head home.”

You headed to the door, hand hovering above the key. It was the one thing that would give your freedom, but lock him away forever.

So many questions swirled around in your mind. It was a rare opportunity.

Turning back around, you nearly jumped out of your skin when you saw Romero standing between the pews. Far enough away to give him deniability of following you, but closer than he’d been when you’d arrived.

“Perhaps it’s these eyes of his.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “But ever since you walked into this room, I haven’t been able to see you as food, but as a thing of beauty. And your smell… Appetizing, but it entranced me further.”

He took another step closer, eyes flicking to the key. It was slow enough to give you enough time to leave. To tell him to stop.

But you didn’t move.

These eyes of his…

Memories… Feelings… Sorry… Glad to see you’re doing well…

“I don’t want you to get confused.” You blurted. “You aren’t him.”

“I know.” He admitted. “But these memories…” He stopped within arm’s length of you. “I will never be a replacement for him, but perhaps you can find some comfort in that a small part of him will continue to live on.”

You sniffed and wiped your eyes. The touch. The gaze. The way he talked… There was no way to convince yourself it was him…

But this was as close as you could get.

You closed the distance between you two and wrapped your arms around him. The way he felt was… Wrong, but at least the warmth was the same. You expected stiff and cold. But you let your head rest on his chest, expecting to hear and feel the familiar rhythm of his heart.

Only silence answered.

His fingers went under your chin, and he tilted your head up toward his. Rough lips brushed against yours in a chaste kiss. You closed your eyes. All you could see was the ghoul in the darkness.

“Perhaps we can continue to learn from one another.” His lips scratched against your earlobe. “You’ll find more of your love’s memories, and I’ll explore these emotions and senses…” His fingers slid between yours, the touch sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

You finally locked eyes with him, looping your arms around his neck. His hands went to your waist, and your bodies pressed up against one another.

Your lips met again, and he grabbed the back of your head and crushed you two together. He moaned softly, his rough mouth wet against yours. Remembering the ichor, you squeezed your own shut and prayed none would get into your mouth.

Then, a growl.

A sharp pain went up the curve of your neck. His hair brushed your skin and you tangled your hands in his hair.

Had it all been an act?

Was this how you died?

Then, he was off, licking his lips and shaking his head.

“Sorry… Some natures are… Hard to ignore.” He stared at you, straightening his arms to look you over.

“Are you alright?”

“It hurts.” You admitted, putting a hand to the bite. It stung, but the skin didn’t seem to be broken. “Will I turn?”

“No.” He shook his head. “It’s… Just a love bite.”

You swallowed. Your head spun as you leaned into him once again. The surprise wore off, and so did the pain.

“Then I’m fine.”

“If I had a pulse,” He cupped your cheek again, bending down to brush his lips against yours in a much more chaste kiss. Guiding your hand to his chest, he let it rest. “It would be racing right now. “There’s so much of you I want to feel and taste… When I thought about sinking my teeth into your flesh, I never wanted to break it. Only leave you bruised.”

He made a clicking noise with his tongue.

“I suppose… I’ve already done that.” He tilted his head to the side and winced apologetically, fingers brushing against the bite mark. Each touch made you stand up straight and suck in a breath, crushing your bodies together again, to where only your clothes separated you.

“I wanted… Want to indulge all of my senses with you.” He pulled you in for an embrace again, planting a kiss on the top of your head. “The moans that escape you dancing on the razor’s edge of pleasure and pain.”

A kiss on your forehead.

“Lips that call out my name toward the heavens rather than cursing me into the dirt.”

A kiss on your eyelid.

“Fingers that tangle in my clothing.” A kiss on your earlobe again, as his own digits twisted in the back of your shirt. “Pulling me closer instead of pushing away.”

A kiss on your nose.

“Inhaling my scent rather than twisting away in disgust…”

A kiss on the lips.

“A flavor that brings us mutual pleasure.”

When he pulled away, you kissed him again. Your legs trembled, and he brought you to one of the pews and let you lean against it.

“We take parts of other bodies,” His hands roamed, going under your shirt. He found the wound from the fence, but his fingers danced around it with such dexterity that it didn’t hurt.

“I’d love to see one in its base state.”

You felt the all too familiar hardness between his legs. The touch almost made you cry out in shock. Sure, they took bodies, but they were… Anatomically correct?

“I’m undead, but I can still respond to stimuli.” He chuckled, then pulled back to give you room between him and the pew. “We may not reproduce like you do, but there’s still some pleasure that can be taken from it…”

“Ghouls have sex?”

“Maybe not nearly as often as humans do. But some memories stir… And if there’s a mood…” He titled his hand side to side with a noise of uncertainty.

“But I’ve never wanted to do it as much as I have with you right now.”

“Then surely… You remember how I like to be touched?” You felt your cheeks burn at your own forwardness. This was crazy.

But yet, you found yourself fumbling for your clothes, tossing them behind you on the pew.

He stared, lips parted slightly as he took you in.

“Perfection…”

The staring didn’t last long before he was kissing you again.

“I mean it. Truly.” He managed between kisses as his hands continued to explore, finding every sensitive spot and curve on you, his touch only becoming more eager as you let out soft sighs and moans.

“Just as lovely as it was… No… Better.”

Then, he broke the barrage of kisses to loosen his tie and start unbuttoning his suit. Unbuckling his belt, he gave you a sly look as his pants fell around his ankles. He stripped all fabric off him, revealing the patchwork skin beneath in the candlelight.

“It’s only fair if I’m as naked as you.”

Shadows danced across his skin, making it harder to tell where some ended and others began. A strange stitching of flesh that he somehow made look whole.

“As I said, we take all the best parts… Some for aesthetic. Some for health.”

You ran your hands over his skin, fingers more adept at finding the cracks in him than your eyes.

“I try to find a mixture of both.” He let out a soft gasp as your hands trailed lower over his hip bones. “Haphazard, yet coherent.”

Then you saw the cock rising and drooling. The fluid glistened in the light, and you sucked in a breath.

“His eyes weren’t the only thing I kept…” He softly moaned as your fingers brushed against it. Somehow, it managed to grow harder and leak more, leaving a glistening trail on your skin.

“It remembers your touch quite well. You appear to be a master of the flesh yourself.”

He brought you in for another kiss, moaning into your mouth as you pumped him. Your hands became slick with him, and it helped lube him up more. His hips bucked, hilting into your grip. You squeezed more, increasing your pace as you felt between your legs tingle with the memory of him…

You dropped to your knees, continuing to stroke, the head dampening with your pants.

“It seems to fit in your hand…” He moaned as you took him into your mouth. “And mouth , perfectly!”

He moaned, thrusting into your mouth. You opened wide for him, letting him go as deep as he could. It had been a while, but you moaned around him, grabbing his thighs to pull him back in when he tried to back out. When he did manage to get free, you sucked on his thighs and balls, tongue leaving a shimmering path behind you.

His panting and your sucking joined the classical music in the background.

“That’s certainly one way to draw out memories!” He moaned into you, resting his hands on the pew so he could thrust more into your mouth, but not hard enough to slam your head against the wood. You grabbed him harder, forcing him as deep as he could go while still sucking.

“I imagine a lot more of my kind would be willing to work with the living using this method!”

You pulled your mouth free, looking at his rock hard length, wet with your saliva. You pumped it a few more times, running your lips across the shaft and lapping at his balls. The taste… the smell.. the sight… You almost felt dizzy with delight at how familiar it all was.

“I imagine kneeling on a stone floor isn’t terribly comfortable.” He offered his hand, and you took it. With a grunt, he hauled you to your feet. He brought his hands between your legs, the grin returning when he felt the wetness between them.

“I feel it’s only fair to return the favor.”

His lips were against your skin, sending more goosebumps over it as your nipples became erect.

“Go ahead and lay back.”

You balanced on the edge of the pew. At least the sides were large enough to let you sit without it digging too much into your behind.

“Probably more comfortable.” He mumbled against your collarbone as he started to slide down, his lips and tongue mingling with your breasts, your stomach, hips…

“I have a… different hunger that needs to be satisfied.”

He drew his tongue across your wetness, swirling around your clit, breath warm against your folds. He rolled his head, drawing out the motion, before drawing it back. His lips rested against your thigh, before he clamped down on it again.

“Sorry.” His eyes went wide as his mouth continued to nibble across your thigh, before he pulled off with a suctioning sound. Grunting, he pulled off, about to apologize again, before you wrapped your legs around his head and yanked him closer.

“I didn’t take you for the type to enjoy that.” His muffled voice rumbled through you, and your back arched.

He continued to lick, parting your lips so he could plunge in deeper. His tongue moved with precision, teeth barely grazing your clit. Warm breath punctuated with moans vibrated through your entire body as he continued to devour you, not even coming up for air.

Eager lips parted and lapped at your wetness, fingers prying you open and delving deeper as he moved his head side to side, face slick with your essence.

You braced yourself on the pews, panting and moaning as the licks continued to spark the desire in you, then fanned the small flame into an inferno. You cried out, back arching again as your legs locked around his head. Taking shallow breaths, you tried to not fall backward.

“You’re truly on that edge.” He said with another lick, pulling back and running his tongue up your thigh. “A precipice of danger and desire.”

With no mercy, he licked and sucked more, focusing purely on your clit as his fingers slipped in and out of you, going deep and brushing against your most sensitive spots. Your moans grew louder, your body slick with sweat as the inferno raged out of control. You saw stars, your vision fracturing like the stained glass all around you.

“I want to fill that emptiness left. Cure an ache I never knew I had.” He murmured against you.

“I can’t replace him, but…”

You rocked forward, all but collapsing into his arms and sending you both to the floor in a heap. He caught the both of you, his suit forming a sort of cushion beneath the two of you. It still hurt, but you didn’t care, only kissing him more.

“Maybe… Just for tonight. We can both feel alive, again.”

You answered with a kiss.

“I can’t do much to make a stone floor comfortable, sorry.” He pointedly looked around at all the scattered clothing. “I doubt the two of us could fit properly on a pew…”

He sat up with a grunt, still cradling you in one arm.

“The only really cushioned spot in here is my chair…” He nodded to the desk.

“So. I guess you’ll have to sit on my lap.” He grunted and winced as his joints popped while standing.

“Come on, up we go.”

You started to stand, but your body felt like jelly and collapsed underneath you again.

“Having trouble getting your legs under you?” He grabbed your hand tighter and then pulled you into a bridal carry, taking you to the desk.

“You’re not?”

He sat you down against the desk. You leaned on it for support as he sat in his chair, patting his thigh.

“Have a seat.” There was the glittering of mischief in his eyes. So warm. With a smile that actually reached the edges.

You straddled his lap, clinging tight to his shoulders as you hovered over him. You could feel the wetness of your entrance and his tip as they brushed against one another. Letting out another gasp, you lined yourself up and finally took him inside.

“A perfect fit.” His whispered into your ear.

Once you had gotten comfortable, he began to thrust up into you, hands on your hips.

“ It’s like everything I remembered,” He said between moans. “Despite never having felt it before.”

He started to speed up, reaching further than his fingers and tongue ever could. Your walls opened up, allowing him inside you. Your synchronized moans overtook the record player, but you didn’t care.

“Creating new memories…” He crashed his lips onto yours, and you met his movements with your own. He moaned into your mouth, his cock twitching as his grip on you only grew tighter.

“The hair’s width of distance—” Another moan, and his breath caught. Sweat poured down his brow with exertion. “Between life and death growing thinner.”

He slowed, drawing out the motion intentionally, all but dragging himself inside you.

“And thinner.” His voice was breathy, shallow breaths warmed your skin and lips.

He sped up again, hilting you each time and making you cry out. You stopped meeting his movements and clung onto him as he thrust in and out of you.

“Every kiss—” He once again brought his lips to yours. “Moan…” His voice trailed off into a moan. “Drop of sweat….” His hands released your hips and let you fall onto him.

“Another way to make the barrier dissolve. And when you lean against me…” He thrust again, the motion lazy and agonizingly slow.

“It’s like you’re pushing through… I guess we’ll have to keep finding holes and make due.” He chuckled and thrust up into you again.

Then, he clamped onto your neck again. Rather than pain, you only went over the edge in pleasure, nails digging into him as you cried out. You clamped down on him as he released inside you. Fluid and wet mixed on your thighs and his lap, dripping onto the floor.

He sucked, cradling you close and finally pulling off, kissing it apologetically.

“I guess there’s some parts of my nature I can’t ignore.” He whispered against your skin. “We have some medical supplies to treat that.”

You couldn’t help but shoot him a look at you clutched the fresh bite. Your heart fluttered as your legs and between them tingled. Despite the fear, you couldn’t push down the excitement flooding your body.”

“Don’t worry, you won’t turn. Takes a bit more… Finesse to become one of us.”

You resting your head against his chest, hand searching for his beating heart. You let out a sigh of disappointment when you remembered there wouldn’t be one.

“I appreciate you indulging me. I hope this brought you some closure.” He stroked between your shoulder blades and nuzzled up against you.

“And if it didn’t… Perhaps we could try again?” You expected him to laugh or make a joke, but his face was… Hopeful.

“I feel like I’ve been revived a second time. It’s a phenomenon I’d like to explore more.” He stared at his hands, which were shaking. “New methods to channel the dead and creating memories that can… Coexist with the old ones.”

“Making breakthroughs?” You managed to say. “Discovering new methods on how things work with your kind?”

“I think your teaching style differs from what I’m used to.” His hand slid into yours again. “And I’d love to learn more. Maybe your mind can be of use to me after all.”

#monster lover #monster love #monster boyfriend #monster romance #monster x human #monster fucker #monsterfucker #terato #writeblr #monster x reader #monster/reader #ghoul #ghoul x reader #ghoul/reader

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whatitshouldvebeen · 1 year ago

Note

God I just had a massive angsty thought about Johnny’s girl, or captive for a better word, having to hide her pregnancy from the rest of the family. Nancy would be the only exception to this. Her sixth sense is crazy. But I was thinking about the delivery not going so smoothly, especially considering all the stress on the reader. You have to pretty much do it by yourself in a barn on a makeshift bed made of hay and a blanket, with Johnny only taking quick peeks in every now and then. The baby wouldn’t show any vital signs at first, and you’d like to think Johnny looks more concerned than he appears. You’re finally able to call him over, and get his help with things. The baby starts crying, though never having been a mother before, the reader knows the baby needs more right now than her and Johnny could both provide. Someone with more knowledge. You’d have to hand your infant over to Nancy and trust her with it for the first couple of days, not even knowing if it was going to be okay by the time it was returned to you. Johnny looks after you, despite feeling irritated and tied down in a seperate room in the house, arguments sprout over him thinking you’re overreacting, never having a hope in the world of understanding the emotions a new mother goes through.

Johnny Slaughter x reader

Daddy's a Killer

Contains: heavy angst, childbirth, and a mention of breastfeeding

MINORS DNI

Nancy never concealed her displeasure when Johnny decided to house you in the barn. A few months later, when he vented his frustration about you, she felt relief—finally, her son recognized you as the burden she always knew you were. Yet, when she and Johnny went to the barn to bring you back to slaughter, the sight of you stirred an unexpected reaction.

"You foolish boy," she muttered, eyes narrowing and shifting to Johnny.

"What, ma? I'm gettin' rid of her like you been sayin' to!" he retorted. One of his hands muffled your anguished screams, while the other gripped your wrists, holding you in front of him as you desperately tried to twist away.

"How many times has Drayton told ya not to mess with the meat?" she scolded, her nose crinkling.

"Ma, I—" he began to protest.

"She's pregnant," Nancy stated flatly.

Color drained from Johnny's already pale face. "W-what?"

"Can't kill 'er. She's got your blood." Nancy grimaced. "You think you want rid of her now, just you wait 'till she's hormonal."

In his shock, Johnny's grip slackened, and you managed to wriggle free, falling to your knees in front of Nancy. "Please, let me go," you pleaded. "If you want to be rid of me, I'll never speak a word. I'll disappear, I swear it!"

The stern, dark-haired woman displayed no signs of sympathy as a smile stretched across her face. "Honey, you got my grandbaby in there, and every baby needs a family. You ain't leavin'."

You looked up from her shoes to her cold eyes, tears streaming down your face as Johnny harshly pulled you back up. The realization set in that there was nothing you could do.

–

The subsequent months unfolded in an unusual manner. Nancy, with an insistence to have Johnny treat you better for the sake of the baby, managed to curb his physical abuse. However, his relentless verbal tirades persisted beyond her control.

During those prolonged months, a subtle transformation occurred within Johnny. The sensation of feeling his baby through your stomach seemed to evoke genuine affection in his eyes. Strangely, this newfound tenderness extended to his "relationship" with you. He provided a pillow and blankets for the barn, heated your food, and even allowed you some fresh air daily.

Despite the improved conditions, humane treatment remained a distant concept. His anger flared, and the majority of your days were still spent in the old barn.

The difficulty of your pregnancy grew, confining you to bedrest (as much as hay covered in blankets could be considered a bed) during the final weeks. At this point, Nancy visited more frequently than Johnny, yet her conversations were solely centered around the baby.

"Bet it's a girl," she remarked one day. "You got that girl shine. When I was pregnant with my girls, I looked the same way."

Inquiring about her pregnancies, she revealed none of them came to fruition, hastily correcting herself. "'Cept for my little angel Johnny, of course!"

Suspicion regarding Nancy's authenticity as Johnny's mother lingered, but in the grand scheme, it seemed inconsequential. Revealing your thoughts to Johnny might only worsen the situation.

Then, the day of your contractions arrived. Within hours, the pain became so intense that screams were your only outlet. When Johnny returned home, he came to see you, and instantly regretted it.

"Ma, why is she so pale?" he asked.

"Somethin's wrong," his mother replied, replacing the towel on your forehead. In the throes of labor, you lay on your back, pushing with all your weakened might.

Your strength had dwindled daily, and Johnny, not the most adept caretaker, had left you spending more time with Nancy in the last month of your pregnancy. Despite her care, you knew it was only for her grandchild's sake.

"Push! Come on now, I see their head!" she shouted, urging you on. You screamed, head thrown back into the sweat-drenched pillow. Johnny, stationed outside, smoked like a freight train, only peeking in occasionally. Comfort was beyond his capacity, a fact you came to understand long ago.

"One last push," Nancy urged, and you obeyed, your child slipping into her waiting hands. "It's a girl!" she exclaimed, but then fell silent, her face stricken.

"Is she okay?" you asked wearily, attempting to raise your head higher to see her. The baby had dark brown hair, like her daddy. She was limp.

Nancy flipped her over, holding her head and body, rubbing and slapping her back.

"What's going on?" Johnny said as he appeared at your side. You'd like to think he sounded worried. Your attention, however, remained fixed on your lifeless baby. Silent screams of anguish echoed as you witnessed Nancy's attempts to revive the child who had been kicking happily in your stomach that very morning.

Then, your daughter coughed, rasping for air. Water bubbled out of her lungs, wetting the barn floor. Nancy cradled her close, attempting to soothe the wailing newborn.

"Is she okay? Can I see her?" you asked, reaching out desperately. Nancy, however, refused to look at you.

"Always knew you was a piece of work, girl. Can't even birth a baby right when it don't die in your womb. She's weak and frail, like you. You don't deserve this girl," she said coldly, bouncing the baby gently as it laid against her shoulder, still crying.

"Please give me my baby," you wailed, stretching your arms out for her desperately.

Surprisingly, it was Johnny who took your little girl from Nancy. His mother glared at him with steely eyes as he placed his daughter in your arms.

"A baby needs their mama," he said, watching your face as it filled with affection for your perfect, tiny baby girl. He turned back to his mom. "She gotta feed her. You can take her back when she's done, but she won't get better without her mama."

"Fine," she spat, sitting up straight, the blood from your baby staining her dress. "But she's mine any time she's not eatin'. I gotta make sure she gets better, and your slut clearly don't know how to take care of a baby."

Johnny agreed, and you knew protesting would only strain your chances of spending time with her at all. It was true; she was your first baby, and you could tell she was sick by the bluish tone to her skin and her struggle to latch onto you. Yet, she was alive, in your arms, and that was all that mattered.

"Bring your girl into the spare bedroom. Better 'n me havin' to go out to the barn just to feed the baby," Nancy said, and Johnny obeyed, picking you up with what you could delude yourself into thinking was genuine care before bringing you inside his mother's house, your baby clutched tightly to your chest all the way.

–

As you recuperated in Johnny's mom's house, Johnny reluctantly assumed the role of caretaker. He assisted with your baths, helped you get dressed, and, surprisingly, inquired about your well-being at least once a day. It felt odd—a begrudging care, tinged with resentment, yet undeniably present. He wasn't accustomed to showing empathy.

During the feeding sessions with your baby, occurring five to eight times a day, Johnny surprisingly chose to be present more often than not, expressing a peculiar tenderness. He'd stroke your hair, murmuring, "She's gettin' stronger every day. She'll be okay in no time."

Yet, in moments when your baby was not present, Johnny's patience wore thin with your perpetual concerns.

"My ma's got her! You ain't gotta be so whiny!" he complained, rolling his eyes.

"But the last time I saw her, she seemed kind of out of it. Can you at least check on her?" you asked anxiously.

"Ma would tell me if she needed somethin'. You're overreacting like ya always do."

The desire to shout, to hurl the bedside lamp at him, surged within you, but you knew it would be futile. Johnny would never take you seriously.

After all, you were a year past your "expiration date", Johnny liked to "joke". You needed to make yourself useful, to show your thanks for the fact you were still alive. Your daughter needed you for now, but when she got older, Nancy could take over… and she wouldn't even remember you.

The thought made your stomach tie in knots. And as you looked into the fed-up eyes of your captor, you knew your place in his world would only become more and more tenuous. You had to be perfect for him. For your daughter.

Forever.

#johnny slaughter #johnny sawyer #johnny slaughter x reader #johnny sawyer x reader #texas chainsaw massacre game #tcm game #texas chainsaw game #tcm #x reader #pregnancy #childbirth #black nancy

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just-a-sewer-goblin · 7 months ago

Note

I am back from my nap and now thinking about you stopping by the butcher shop while you're out running errands and Simon sees you in comfortable clothes. Some yoga pants and a tank top or something. Just something to make ghost think about lounging around the house with you after a rough shift. Asshole customers, machines going out, meat suddenly bad, anything under the sun that could have gone wrong, did go wrong. Only for it all to roll off of him like water off a ducks back when he sees you laid up in His bed, with your large pup in their own bed on the floor. -nonnie from the last two asks tehe

If you want you can pick a name I can refer to you by, anon. Only if you feel like it tho. Welcome back in the awake world, I hope you had a great nap.

And oh boy. Simon is all tense lines when you come in. His shoulder are so tense you're kind of glad he's behind the counter. Because suddenly he's even more intimidating. Simon thinks if one more rude customer comes in he's either gonna implode or make them the next piece of meat he sells.

At least that would be fresh. He gives the trash a stinky side eye. He had to dispose of a perfectly good piece of meat that decided to spontaneously go bad and he's still pissed about it.

And then you walk in and of course seeing the pretty face of his spouse favourite customer immediately makes him drop his tense shoulders. You're a vision. You're his everything. Maybe today is a good day after all.

Your hair is kind of a mess as if you just rolled out of bed and tried to vaguely make it look outside appropriate but failing in the process. Simon can't help the twitch of his lips at that. You look utterly adorable.

You're obviously dressed for comfort and he wonders if he should get in his head about that. It means you didn't consciously put effort into making yourself look good for him. That means he's not on your radar and he's gotta change that. But he's too enamored with getting to see you so comfortable to really be concerned about it.

Even your ugly mutt seems lazy and sleepy today. Simon desperately wishes he could just close the shop and leave with you. Have your hand ins his and let the stress of the day bleed out of him with every step he takes next to you.

But as it is he is prisoner of his own shop, confined behind the counter while he watches you walk away after a visit that was way too short.

He hates to see you leave, but loves to see you go. Damn those comfy pants make your ass look even better than usual.

He might be humming a bit to himself as he cuts up some new meat to put on display.

#the sewer answers #butcher!simon x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #i should write a part three for butcher simon #shouldn't i?

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 1 year ago

Text

A Lord’s Proposition

Prompts “bite me” ”if you insist” and “each of my thoughts about you are improper”

Pairing: Melkor x Fem. Reader (Elf / Finwë’s daughter with Miriel and Fëanor’s twin| second person POV)

Themes: Slowburn | Smut (lemon-ish) | Soft

Wordcount: 4.9K words

Summary: Melkor had kidnapped you and kept you confined to a tower while he travelled to Utumno. He has now returned, and asks for you.

Rating: 🔥🔥 Minors DNI | 18+

For rules and tag form, read here.

To the person who requested this, I hope you like it.

You looked out a barred window, your heart aggrieved by the sight that befell your eyes.

There was no starlight here. None could be found in Angband. The sky was murky black from the thick smog of smoke from the keep’s many furnaces. The air was damp and cold and foul. The scent of ash and smoke and worse crept in through the windows and clung to your garments. Some days, the smell was so strong that it made your eyes water and bile rise at the back of your throat. You had no choice but to bear it all in silence. You were a prisoner, utterly dependent on the favor of the one who held you captive.

Still, you supposed, it was a better fate than most. You turned your attention from the sky and peered into the gloomy courtyard. Thralls scurried to and fro like mice desperately trying to escape the talons of an eagle. They were like wraiths, mere shadows of the fair and glorious beings they once were. That was how your captor liked to see them: fearful, half-starved, and brought down to the lowest point of their existence.

Not just them, you realized with great dread. I am one of them. The daughter of a race he loathes with a murderous passion, so the poets and singers say. How long will it be before I am made to sip from the cup that was forced onto them?

Your skin prickled out of fear. You closed the shutters of your window and sharply turned away as soon as a wretched scream carried through the courtyard. You did not want to dwell on that sound or from whom it came. There was no need to feed your nightmares with fresh fodder.

You studied your chambers like you always did, ever since your capture. The walls and floors were bare black stone, the pelts were thick, and the rushes were new. Besides the old hearth, there was a basket filled with blocks of peat instead of wood for a fire. The bed was small but comfortable. You reflected on the remnants of your last meal. The bread and roasted meat had been fresh, the water was clean and cool.

Mine may be a wretched lot, but it is still better than theirs, you reminded yourself. Much better than theirs.

Someone knocked on the door. It was loud and insistent. You made haste to answer it, your shoes clicking over the floor. You expected to find a thrall and came face-to-face with her instead.

Thuringwethil, they called her. Woman of the secret shadow. Herald for the Dark Lord. The first vampire. Her eyes gleamed like new rubies. Her wings dragged behind her whenever she walked. A gown was draped over one arm.

"My lady." You quickly dipped to your knees even as the words stumbled out of your mouth. Anything to not anger her.

A gale of laughter greeted you. It was shrill and painful to the ears, like nails over brittle glass. You had to stop yourself from physically wincing.

"You certainly have good manners, little elf," Thuringwethil replied, and looked over you critically. "That will serve you well with him, I think."

"With him, my lady?" You sputtered in disbelief. "Which him?"

Your mind was a roil. There was more than one him here in Angband, and each one was as mercurial as the next. Was Thuringwethil speaking of Mairon, Melkor’s most favored advisor? Or was she speaking of that Balrog high general? The one who could change from a creature of great beauty to one that inspired nothing but sheer terror? Or was it the Maia who found great joy in changing into a giant cat and tormenting everyone who crossed his path?

"Him," she said, and moved around you in an elegant flourish. Her wings trailed behind her over the floor, all black and deep crimson. You took a deep breath and sighed wistfully. The very air around her smelled like a meadow in full bloom. It did not surprise you. Thuringwethil used to be Yavanna’s Maia after all. "Lord Melkor, no less. He has returned from Utumno and wishes to dine with you."

You gave her a measured look. You were a prisoner, captured and carried off after a daring raid in the heart of Valinor itself. And now you have been invited to dine with your captor, the Lord of Angband, no less. The prospect frightened you.

"I… I hope I will not offend Lord Melkor," you blurted out, and hoped this invitation was not a ruse to heap unspeakable agony upon you.

"I see you truly are nothing like that heedless, foul-tempered brother of yours," Thuringwethil observed, not unkindly. "And I promise, he will not be offended by anything you do."

She did not give you time to think or frame a reply. She went on to add, "Thralls will see to your bath now. An orc will come to fetch you once you have finished."

You shivered and nodded in fright. Thuringwethil took her leave of you, practically floating out of your chambers in a swirl of wings and lace and night-blooming roses. You walked over to your bed and ran the flat of your palm over your new dress. It was soft to the touch and dripping in gems, and finer than any gown you possessed before.

So lavish, you mused. What does he want from me?

There was another knock on your door. This time it was hesitant and timid. "Come in, please," you said, and moved away from the bed.

Thralls walked in carrying pails of clean, warm water. Another pair brought with them a small copper tub and a towel. A thrall filled the tub with water before adding fragrant oils. Another helped you out of your robes, her eyes downcast. Her fingers fumbled with the sash; it was as if they had all turned into thumbs. You wanted to talk to her, to ask how she came to be here. All you did, in the end, was bite your tongue.

I must take care of what I say to them. It may cause more trouble for them if I do.

The sweet-smelling water was a welcome relief from the smells of the outside world. The thralls sluiced water over your hair before gently brushing out any tangles. One of them went to work on your nails and feet. It felt strange, to have them wait on you in such a manner. It was stranger still, given the cause for such pampering.

She said nothing I do could offend him. I am certain now that he must want something from me. What is it?

You had seen Melkor before. He had come calling on your brother; his words like honey. You were by an upstairs window, looking down on the gardens where they stood. Fëanor had been furious with the Vala’s intrusion. He grew even more enraged when the Vala glanced up and caught you looking, his lips curling up at the corners. Their exchange grew heated. Fëanor sent Melkor away, but not before Melkor managed to steal a second glimpse of you. That was all you saw of him until after your capture, when you were presented to him like a prize, your arms and feet bound in iron, your clothes reduced to rags. He said nothing. All he did was sit on his lofty throne and look down on you, his eyes roaming over you in a way that made a flush creep up your throat.

You never saw him after that. Melkor kept you confined to the tower you now lived in. No one was allowed to see you save for the thralls that had to tend to you and Thuringwethil. The other Maia were allowed nowhere near you. Even the orcs were allowed nowhere near you, until now.

It is as if he does not trust the others with me.

A thrall held out their arm, to help you out of the tub. You stood still while they toweled you dry, your cheeks ablaze when they first helped you into the wisps Thuringwethil brought with her. The garments were so soft, you did not even notice them. Next came the dress, an airy confection of lace and silk that clung to your body. Then came a pair of soft slippers and finally a perfume, one that was dabbed on each of your wrists and behind your ears. The thralls wanted to style your hair, but you declined, insisting on wearing it loose.

"The master calls," insisted the orc that came to escort you to Melkor’s private chambers deep within Angband. "Come."

You followed him silently, walking through lofty corridors and vast halls, each as empty and dimly lit as the next. Your footsteps echoed all around you even as you sunk deep into your thoughts. Melkor had insisted you be brought to him alive. He had kept you in a tower, apart from the thralls and other prisoners. He had provided you with decent food and drink, even new garments. No one was allowed to harm a hair on your head. And the way he looked at you when you were presented to him, his eyes dark with hunger. The memory alone was enough to give you pause.

You shook your head. No. It could not be. Melkor desired nothing but the complete dominion of Arda. He treasured nothing but power and causing pain. That was what the songs said. That was what your father and brother said. And yet…

And yet…

He kept me safe. Made certain my needs were seen to. Did nothing to cause me harm. Were they all wrong?

The orc stopped by large wooden doors, each more than twice your height. "Let her in," he snapped at the guards. They obeyed and opened the doors for you. "Get in," he mumbled almost in politeness.

You meekly stepped over the threshold and made your way into a chamber as large as the halls you had passed. There was a soft thud. That was the sound of the doors closing behind you. You were truly trapped now.

The room you were in was nearly as silent as a tomb. And poorly lit. There were no lamps, or torches. Just a dim fire sputtering away in the hearth.

"Come closer, little elf," a deep voice called from behind you.

You gulped in fright but turned in the direction of that voice.

"Closer," it called. "Come closer."

One measured footstep followed another. You walked on hesitantly, not stopping until you reached a smaller chamber filled with the light of several candles. There was a large bed in one corner, and a small table at the far end. This room, too, was empty. You were confused now. Where did that voice come from?

"Does this please you?"

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you heard the voice behind you. You turned on your heel and found yourself looking at your captor. Melkor was studying you with a quizzical gleam in his eye. "My lord," you murmured, and gracefully dipped to your knees, remembering your courtesies.

He laughed merrily. "Thuringwethil was right. You do have nice manners."

You looked at him, shocked. She spoke to him about me. Why would she do that?

Melkor smirked and looked at you approvingly before walking over to the table. He pulled out a chair and gestured for you to join him. It confused you even more. The table was devoid of food and drink.

"The food…" you breathed out and struggled for words. Melkor was as glorious as the day you first saw him. The image of him standing there and watching you was enough to muddle your mind. "There… there is no food, my lord."

"There will be food," he replied, "for later. For now, sit."

You obeyed and made your way to the table, your skin prickling the entire time. You glanced at Melkor and found his eyes following your every move. There was something dark and primal in his eyes, something you could not quite describe.

"I will not mince words,” he said. “The reason why I summoned you," Melkor waited till you made yourself comfortable before moving to the chair opposite yours. "Is because I have a… proposition to make."

"Proposition?" You repeated, baffled. Melkor was one of the most high. There was no need for him to ask anything of anyone when he could simply take whatever, and whomever he desired, without so much as a "by your leave."

“Yes." Melkor studied you before saying, "A proposition. I wish to make you my companion. I made this offer to your brother. I was hoping he would put a word in where your father was concerned…"

The day he called on your twin. He had asked for you. You kept asking why and Fëanor refused to explain the cause. He grew angry whenever you asked. Your father finally forbade you from broaching the topic.

"But the fool refused," Melkor snorted in derision. "Now that I have you here with me, I would like to ask this of you myself. Will you be my companion and bind yourself to me?"

You swallowed and wrung your hands. His companion, he said. You did not even know what it would mean. What little you knew of intimate relations between elves came from the books you read while the others were away. "Your companion, my lord. What would I have to do? Read to you? Play the harp?"

Melkor laughed again, softly this time. "Your family has kept you ignorant of many things, I see. I do not wish you to merely read to me and amuse me with music, little elf. To put it in simpler terms, I want you to share my bed."

Your cheeks were aflame. To share his bed. You had read enough books to know what that meant. "To share pleasures with you…" you sputtered, "but if I go back, if the other elves find out what I allowed you to do to me, I will be ruined."

"The other elves will not find out.”

“Why not?”

“Because your brother is not coming for you," Melkor said simply.

"He is coming for me!" you insisted. Your eyes stung with hot tears threatening to break free. Melkor was the prince of lies. That was what they all said. You refused to believe him, thinking he was lying to you even now. "Fëanor is coming for me!"

"He is not, little elf," Melkor replied gently. "Fëanor is not coming for you. His hunger to create the silmarils has consumed him."

Despair of the acutest kind settled over you like a thick fog. The creation of hallowed jewels, each containing the light of the two trees, was all your twin talked about. He would think of nothing else until such priceless treasures rested in his hands. You knew him well enough for that.

"And your father’s thoughts have been consumed with the new family he is creating with his second wife. No one is coming for you." Melkor reached over and placed his hand on top of yours. He gave it a gentle squeeze. "Say yes, little elf. Take my hand, and every comfort imaginable will be yours. I will be yours."

You sat there, feeling alone and wretched. Your brother was not coming for you. Your father was not coming for you. Days had bled into weeks and weeks into a wholly different season, and no one had come for you. There had not even been a whiff of an elf seeking you out. Your kin had abandoned you to your fate, and the knowledge of it was too much to bear. It made you want to cry, to scream and tear out your hair, but such acts were useless. They would not set you free, and they would not make your kin search for you. You turned your attention to Melkor. He offered a life you were once accustomed to. Perhaps he was not lying. Perhaps he was telling the truth. But still, to say yes to him and take him inside of you…

"The others… your servants…" you whispered, "What will they say?"

"Nothing." Melkor smiled and spread his broad hands. "Life in Angband is different. You can be with whomever you wish, whenever you wish, and however you wish. No one will say a word in protest."

"No one?" You glanced at him, trying to get a sense of him. "Not even you?"

Melkor ground his jaw and growled. His eyes narrowed to thin slats. "You are mine, little elf. All of you belong to me."

Goosebumps rose all over your flesh when he said it. The sheer possessiveness in his tone was enough to make you forget your sense of dread and excite you to the point of actually considering his offer.

"Before I say yes," you licked your lips nervously and confessed, "I… I must tell you I have neither the… skill nor the… experience… in such matters. What little I know has come from books."

Melkor’s lips tugged at the corners. "I thought as much. But first, you must say yes."

To say yes. To take his hand and bind yourself to him for all time. You thought of your suitors, how all of them bowed their heads and walked away without a second glance the moment Fëanor denied them. Then there was Melkor, who willingly risked war and doom to bring you here. You knew what your answer would be.

"Yes."

"Come."

He rose and took you by hand, helping you out of your chair and leading you straight to his bed. You eyed the silk sheets and the soft pillows. To just lay in that bed was temptation enough. Melkor did not give you time to think of much else. He grabbed your arms and kissed you before you could say another word.

The books spoke of kisses that were sweet and soft, like feathers. Melkor’s kiss was none of that. It was all heat and wildness and hunger. His tongue glided over the seams of your mouth before pressing against your lips. You sighed helplessly and parted them for him. His mouth tasted like some dark spice you could not get enough of. Melkor smirked in triumph, his breath heating your flesh.

"How easily you yield, little elf!" he cried when you tugged on his tunic to pull him closer. "And how fortunate I am to have you in my grasp!" He laughed again and placed his hands over your shoulders, pushing you down onto the edge of the bed. "Tell me," he cooed softly, "What else did you read in these books?"

You looked at him, your eyes widening when he undid the buckle of his belt. "I…" You glanced at him, then at what he was doing. He was loosening the drawstrings of his breeches. "I have read about certain acts, but…" Your cheeks heated when he tugged it down just enough to free his cock. "But…"

"It was not enough?" Melkor asked and caressed your cheek. "Then I will guide you. Open that pretty mouth for me, little elf."

He waited, neither forcing nor demanding that you obey. A thumb glided over your lips, making you look at him. "Open little elf," he insisted gently, "Go on."

The sight of him all exposed and hard proved too tempting. You opened your mouth, eager and willing and curious, struggling to breathe while he sank his length. Melkor moved slowly and gently, his hands delving into your hair and keeping you steady. He groaned and shivered when you ran your tongue along his shaft and let curious hands skim over his thighs. His hand glided over to cup your cheek. You opened your eyes and found his fixed on yours; his mouth parted in a silent moan.

"I have been thinking about you from the first moment I laid eyes on you, little elf," he confided, whimpering when your tongue brushed over his tip. "Each of my thoughts about you have been improper."

Melkor was gentle with his instructions. "Loosen your jaw, little elf." He caressed your cheek again to catch your attention. "You clench it too much."

It was easier after that. You reached up and clutched the edges of his tunic, your mind going hazy with bliss. Everything you felt, from the hands brushing over your hair to the little ridges brushing against your lips to the soft grunts you heard, was dark and sinful. You had often wondered what such acts would be like while reading books forbidden to you, but no words could describe what you were feeling now, all feverish and wanton.

Melkor drew back and pushed you onto the sheets. You gazed at him, surprised, and more than a little disappointed. "Move further up, little elf," he chuckled, running his thumb over your swollen lips. "I want to claim you as mine."

Again, you did as he asked, even more eager this time. You moved further up the bed, trembling whenever you felt the wetness between your thighs. Melkor undid the clasps of his tunic one by one. You expected to find vast parts of him withered and deformed, as the songs said. What was slowly revealed instead was the stuff of a maiden’s dreams: a fana that was all supple muscle and devoid of flaw. His skin was the color of new steel, and his arms were large and strong.

Not once did he use that strength to force me, you mused, flushing when the mattress sank and he crawled into bed with you, boots on and all. Melkor pushed your thighs apart with his. His hands slid under your skirts.

"I…" You found yourself trembling with growing need when the flat of his palm glided over your leg. "I thought we must be undressed, my lord."

"Next time," Melkor promised. He hiked your skirts up to your waist and shoved his hand down your undergarments, ripping them apart with one tug. "For now, let me do this."

His fingers grazed your slick heat. The friction was delicious enough to make you see stars. Melkor trembled. He actually trembled. His touch was gentle, almost worshipful in its exploration. He propped himself on his free arm, just so he could watch you while he slipped a finger inside of you. It made your breath hitch when that finger slid deeper and deeper.

"My lord," you moaned without even realizing it. He dipped his head and ghosted his lips over yours.

"I am here, little elf," he purred softly, brushing his hand over your hair. He dipped his head again, nibbling your earlobe and sighing when your arms circled his back.

He had been thinking of me since he first saw me, you remembered. When was that?

"M-my lord?" Your back began to arch with each thrust of his finger. He inserted a second as carefully as the first, groaning whenever your warmth clenched around them. "W-when did you first see me?"

"When I was allowed to return to Valinor," he confessed softly against your neck. "I saw you with your father and brother near the Ring of Doom. I stayed in the shadows and watched you. Even then, I knew I had to make you mine."

The Ring of Doom. When your father was called to hear the Valar’s verdict on his appeal to remarry. That was a full century before Melkor approached your brother for you.

A hundred years was but the blink of an eye for an elf. Lesser still for a being such as him. But still...A hundred years. He had been seeking me out over a hundred years. Your hands brushed over his hair while he nibbled at your earlobe. The thought of him marking you with his teeth was enough to make your pulse scramble. You grew a little bolder.

“M-my lord?" You mumbled shyly. "W-would you c-consider marking me?"

“Bite you, little elf?"

"Y-yes. B-bite me."

Melkor raised his head, his dark eyes darkening even more. You heard a low and otherworldly growl. The sound inflamed you. "If you insist," he said, leaning in and running his tongue over the hollow of your throat. "Turn your head to the side, little elf."

He peppered the soft expanse of your throat with kisses that were bruising and almost violent. Every time his teeth grazed the curve of your neck, your nails would dig into his back. "Melkor," you sighed again. "There. Right there. Oh."

"Now everyone who sees you will know you are mine." He lifted his head and admired the canvas he had made out of your body. When he drew his fingers away, it made you feel strangely empty. "Rest your legs over my hips, little elf." Melkor hovered over you, the tip of his cock brushing against your entrance. "And do not tense. Can you manage this?"

He wanted to claim your maidenhead. You looked up at him, trying to decide what to do. If he did, if you said yes to this, you could never go back. The other acts you could hide in lies, but not this. Never this. No elf would stay married to you once the truth came to light. Your family would never welcome you back. Your father would not wish to ruin the prospects for any child born to his second wife, and your brother… you shivered. You did not want to even think of what Fëanor would do to you.

Why am I fretting over what others will say, when those others have already turned their backs on me?

Melkor’s knuckles drifted over your throat. He may never ask for you again. He could send you away and carry on like nothing happened. It would would you deeply if he did. But the memories would feel so sweet.

You made up your mind. You moved your legs over his hips, the insides of your thighs rubbing up against the supple leather of his breeches. It felt strange but wonderful. "I am ready," you whispered.

“I will be gentle," Melkor promised, trembling again. His kiss was soft and so very warm. He kissed you until you were breathless, kissed you until you moaned, and your hold around him tightened. He guided his shaft inch by slow inch into your slit, stopping whenever you whimpered to give you time to breathe. His hand glided over your thigh, your belly, his words a sweet melody in a tongue you had never heard of in your life. It put your entire body at ease. He would move again, now slowly, now gently, filling you in ways you never thought possible. He stopped again, this time after claiming your maidenhood. He looked at you with questioning eyes, as if asking for permission.

"Yes," you assured him, sighing when he moaned and started to move.

He was so big, and it felt uncomfortable. And he was gentle, just like he promised. Pain and discomfort slowly gave away to a pleasure that had no name. Every time he moved, every time he found a place that sent jolts of deep ecstasy licking up your spine, you clung to him, moaning his name shamelessly. Melkor’s lips crushed yours in an all-consuming kiss. At your own urging, he went a little deeper, a little harder, a little faster, growling when his hips slapped against the insides of your thighs. It was too much. And not enough. And intoxicating all at the same time. Melkor knelt up and dragged you with him.

"Kiss me," he demanded, "and make it count."

His fingers dug into the back of your dress, his nails ripping into the fabric the moment your mouth opened over his. His tongue tasted like wine when it pressed against yours, and his hair felt like silk when it slipped around your fingers. A tension that was sweet and drugging grew in your belly.

"So-something is ha-happening," you mewled, not knowing what it meant. "I... d-do not understand…"

You may not have known, but Melkor did. "Soon, little elf," he whispered, latching onto the curve of your neck. A mixture of kisses and nips of the teeth skimmed over your throat. "A little more. Just a little more."

That soon came faster than you could have thought. Your muscles coiled and tightened, and snapped, like your body was splintering into a million different pieces. You could not think. You could even breathe. You were lost in a sea of untold rapture. You barely felt it, Melkor’s hold on you tightening even as your nails raked over his skin. You barely heard it—a deep grunt of satisfaction when he thrust one last time, and a torrent of his spend filled you.

The world had gone still, so very still. Your thoughts were still muddled when Melkor laid you on your back. You were silent while clarity slowly crept in.

Melkor had claimed all you willingly gave, and so much more. He made you experience joys you had never experienced before. And now you braced yourself, your heart gripped in agony, thinking he might prove the tales told about him true and send you away, never to seek you out after that. The books did not prepare you for the pain of his rejection. You prepared yourself anyway, your body still shaking when the featherbed sank again under his weight. Melkor threw an arm over your waist and drew you to him. Both arms encircled you now, even as he buried his face in your hair.

"I will have your possessions moved to my chambers. Rest for now, little elf." He mumbled and pressed a chaste kiss over your shoulder. "When you wake up, I will bathe you, and we will dine together. Perhaps you could even read to me."

tags: @lemonivall @cilil @edensrose @wandererindreams @asianbutnotjapanese

#Melkor #Melkor smut #Melkor x reader #Morgoth #morgoth smut #The silm #The silm imagine #the silmarilion #melkor imagine #morgoth imagine #x reader #Reader insert #reader insert request #writeblr #fanfiction #The valar #The ainur #💫a world of whimsy writes

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lucagray813 · 2 months ago

Text

The Pagoda

Rating: T

Word Count: 4,266

Main Characters: Macaque

Minor Characters: Characters mentioned - Wukong, MK, LBD, Peng

Relationships: Macaque & Wukong, could be interpreted as Macaque/Wukong

Summary: No matter what this prison had in store for him, the Six-Eared Macaque was going to survive.

Additional Tags: Season 5 spoilers, character study, worldbuilding

CW: Implied cannibalism, disturbing food sources, deteriorating mental health, poor self image

Link to AO3 Version

----

The moment Macaque made the decision to play the hero he knew how it was going to end - with him trapped in a prison with no way out. And while outwardly he appeared to be putting his all into keeping Lǐ Jìng's attention on him, on the inside his mind was scrambling.

He knew nothing about the Pagoda and it raised hundreds of questions about what awaited him - would he still have his powers? Would he be confined to a prison cell? Were there guards? If so, would they be as cruel or indifferent as those of the Dìyù?

He found himself creating plans at lightning speed for every possible scenario that he could think of. So when the inevitable happened, his feet had barely touched solid ground before he disappeared into the shadows and found somewhere defensible that he could assess the situation.

He still had his powers - that was good. The only power that predictably didn't work was the ability to portal out of here or grab items from the outside world. Not ideal but limited magic was better than no magic at all.

He made a face as he picked at his prison outfit - everything that he'd had on him was gone and unless he wanted to waste magic on a purely aesthetic glamour then this was his new look for the foreseeable.

Wonderful.

It was the least of his problems though. A couple floors down, in the room he had materialised in, he could hear a group of demons complaining that the fresh meat had already scarpered and were making plans to look for him.

He needed to learn the lay of the land and fast - it was a good thing recon was his speciality.

----

The Pagoda was a lawless, demon free-for-all and it was clear that once Lǐ Jìng stuffed someone in here, he never gave them a second thought. There were no guards, there were no deliveries of food or supplies, the only thing that ever entered the Pagoda were more prisoners.

The structure itself was designed to be as confusing as possible with doors that connected in illogical ways. But they were generally fixed connections and as such one could theoretically map out the place and navigate it fairly successfully. Thankfully, his shadows made light work of traversing the building.

There was no day and night cycle, the lighting and temperature only changed if there were demons around with the ability to manipulate them. It made it difficult to track the passing of time but even if that hadn't been a problem, there was the more worrying concern that the days in here weren't passing at the same rate as they were in the outside world.

For all he knew, a day here could be a year outside or vice versa and, while he honestly wasn't sure what would be worse, he tried not to dwell on it - nothing he could do about it after all.

The only basic necessity that the Pagoda offered was water but the sources were numbered and predictably they were guarded fiercely by whatever demon had managed to claim it.

There was a surprisingly large number of demons here given how infrequently new prisoners joined the ranks and especially considering that other demons were the primary food source available.

That might be owed to the impressive diversity in demons however - not all of them fed off of meat. Some of them fed off of magic, some of them fed on the Pagoda itself - eating through the self-healing floors and walls and some fed off of emotions and that was only to name a few. Some of them didn't seem to need to eat at all or perhaps only needed to eat infrequently.

Those that needed to eat meat were seemingly at a disadvantage but aside from hunting their fellow inmates there were other options available to them. There were a few varieties of demons that could produce something of nutritional value - some could regenerate limbs quickly and so, if they had a tolerance for pain, could provide flesh, others laid eggs, some secreted highly nutritious substances, some demons were part plant and others could transform magic or other materials into food.

Any demon that could provide some semblance of food was highly sought after and generally they were either in servitude to a more powerful demon or they were a powerful demon themselves that could name their price.

Since coming back to life, he had greedily consumed a number of immortal peaches, stolen from Wukong's personal supply, and so the risk of starving to death was almost negligible but that didn't mean he didn't need to eat.

Unfortunately, the heavenly peaches were not a full proof method of immortality on their own, as he well knew. They only worked properly if the one eating them was born of heaven, had gained enlightenment or had obtained one of the other "approved" methods of immortality.

If you didn't fit any of those criteria, then while the peaches could certainly do a lot for you, you wouldn't experience the full extent of their benefits. And he, of course, did not fit the bill. As such, compared, to say, Wukong - he didn't heal as quickly, he could only survive a couple of days without his head or his organs, and eventually his body still suffered the effects of hunger and thirst even if they took a long time to kill him.

Wukong didn't need to eat - he just did it because he enjoyed it. But he did - he might not die of starvation or dehydration soon but a lack of food and water would see his mind and body deteriorate and he couldn't afford to be slow or sluggish here. One wrong move could see him dead or worse.

Thankfully, as well as expert on recon he was also a master thief and it hadn't taken him long to determine the safest sources to steal from and when and how to do it.

His strategy for survival was for no-one to ever realise he was here. His ears and shadows ensured he was always out of sight of another demon and he played it safe - if he even suspected someone had a way to sense him then he stayed well clear.

He had learnt who most of the big players were.

Down in the depths of the Pagoda, for example, was a demon that had transformed several floors into a swamp of sorts - if you were a water demon then really you're only shot at survival was to swear allegiance to her. She seemed largely benevolent but given the way that other demons avoided her territory like the plague he had a feeling she was very capable of defending it.

Likewise, there were some elemental demons that had transformed large sections of the Pagoda - there were areas where the floors never stopped burning or where the air was suffocatingly cold. Those responsible for such huge environmental changes were often surrounded by loyal demons that thrived in those conditions.

A little disturbingly, there were one or two demon clans that seemed to have lived in the Pagoda for generations - almost all the living members having been born and raised here. The outside world little more than a myth.

One of these clans seemed to have figured out how to stop the Pagoda from repairing itself. Their territory shaped to their liking - walls and floors torn down to accomodate them. He suspected it had something to do with seals but it wasn't worth the risk to find out.

There were a couple other places where the structure couldn't repair itself. In some places, his best guess was that there had been an unbelievably powerful explosion of magic that had done damage beyond repair but in most cases it was simply because it was destroyed again before it could even try to fix itself.

There was something oddly amusing about the grunts of various clans or gangs that had the arduous job of going around and remarking their territory - recarving symbols into walls and doors. Less amusing were the truly giant demons that took up entire floors all to themselves - walls shattering at the slightest undulating.

Despite all the demons and their various territories there were seemingly an infinite number of floors that existed. He could reach the bottom but no matter how far he climbed he couldn't reach the top.

There was some appeal to climbing higher as it was significantly less populated but there was also little to no food and some of the demons that were up here were not ones he wanted to pick a fight with.

Generally, he spent as much time as he could on an empty upper floor and only made the trek down to eat. Although, very quickly another problem was making itself known. As he'd more or less perfected his survival strategy, he now had time to spare and it was both stressful and boring.

He had too much time to think and not enough to distract him - and it was a dangerous combination. His thoughts were less than kind on a good day and there was a real risk that he would go to dangerous lengths not to be left alone with them.

Eavesdropping and spying was just the thing for recon but to do it just for entertainment? That was the kind of stupid move that got you killed but what else was there to do? Make a friend? Oh sure, why not just go around the house and offer to put on some shadow plays while he was at it?

... A shadow play.

He looked at the wall nearest to him and let the shadows start to take shape. You know, he had been meaning to get back into theatre, maybe now was the time to plan out his next show for when he got out of here.

If he got out of here...

No. He physically shook himself, he couldn't let himself start to think like that. Wukong would... The kid. The kid wouldn't leave him here. He was too much of a goody-two shoes not to save someone that had sacrificed themselves for him. The hows didn't bear thinking about - the kid could do the impossible. He was going to get out of here, he didn't need to worry about that.

This was exactly why he couldn't give himself time to think. He had to find something to keep him busy. Shadow plays were a good start but he could do more - he was sure he could figure out how to make some paper and ink from the resources available and really dedicate himself to planning out his new show. Hell, maybe he could even figure out how to make some instruments and write some music.

The plan had evolved past just surviving, he now had to make sure he didn't lose his mind while he was waiting to be freed. He was going to have to find ways to live here for the foreseeable.

----

Focusing on his craft was going a long way to keep him sane but he couldn't stop himself from lingering where other demons were. He told himself he needed to be aware of any dangerous developments, of any new players entering the prison, or of shifting territories in order to keep himself safe but he knew deep down what the real reason was.

He found himself wondering what he would do when he finally gave up hope on being rescued - would he go mad? He'd seen a couple of lone demons that seemed to have done just that roaming the upper floors. Maybe he would ally himself to one of the demon lords? The witch on the bottom floor swamp seemed like a safe bet...

Perhaps he would be a free agent - offering his services to whoever could pay for them? What he would charge he didn't know. Or maybe he could spin his own little web and be the one pulling all the strings? He could become king of the whole Pagoda.

He scoffed. It was too early for him to be contemplating giving up and going mad with power. It had only been... A few months?

It was impossible to tell. He was sort of going by the day and night routine the demon clan with the power to stop the Pagoda from repairing itself had set up. They used some sort of magic to darken and lighten their territory and while it was very unlikely to be accurate it was the best he had to go on.

His own sleep schedule didn't help. He tended to sleep in small, restless bursts. Always alert for trouble.

His mind drifted to thoughts of home. It didn't matter where he slept on the island, the monkeys would find him. They had a terrible habit of piling on him while he slept and it made for the worst night's sleep. Before being trapped here, he had gotten into the unfortunate position where he couldn't sleep with them and he couldn't sleep without them.

He felt his mood dip. He hoped they were okay and that this whole end of the world business hadn't found it's way to Flower Fruit Mountain's shores. Hopefully Wukong had left them a clone or something to make sure they were taken care of.

If he hadn't already returned that was.

Maybe the world had already been saved and everything had gone back to how it should be.

He pushed the thought to the back of his mind and instead wondered if the monkeys would like the show he was putting together. He was sure they would but they weren't overly concerned with a coherent narrative - they liked it when things were flashy and dramatic.

He closed his eyes and imagined the sort of show they would put on - it made him smile and caused a terrible longing in his chest. His hand twitched but safe in his isolation he gave into his weakness.

He opened his eyes to see shadow clones perfectly shaped like the monkeys, and when one climbed onto his lap and he pretended not to notice that it lacked the weight and heat of a living creature. Just like he pretended not to notice that they were silent in a way the monkeys had never been in their lives.

In his head, he could hear them as they responded to the dramatic little shadow play he put on for them. He kept their company until he fell asleep curled under them.

He woke up alone.

----

His shadows sometimes took shape without his permission, took the shape of people he knew, people who's voices rang loud and clear in his head. At first, he'd just ignored them but increasingly he found himself engaging with them, arguing with the silence.

He closed his eyes as he felt Peng take shape beside him but their mocking tone could not be ignored, "There really is no length you won't go to for him, is there?"

"I didn't do it for him. The world is ending - between the two of us he was the better option to-"

Peng sneered, "You've had how long to think up your excuses and that's the best you could come up with? You think his brute strength would have been more useful than your shadows in the search for the stones? We both know that the world was the last thing on your mind. You heard his screams, saw him lying there and all you could think of was how to make it stop."

He said nothing.

Peng scoffed, "Pathetic. Truly pathetic. After everything he's done you're still his loyal little dog." They leaned down to speak into his ear, "That's all you've ever been to him - a useful pet. And what happened the moment you stopped being useful? What happened when you stopped being obedient and amusing? And still you go crawling back to him! Ready to roll over at the first hint that he feels anything even remotely-"

The shadows dispersed as his fist found their face. As his hand trembled he lamented that he'd never had the opportunity to do the same to the real Peng.

The Lady Bone Demon liked to play her games - flashing in and out of existence around him as her voice echoed, "It's tragic but some of us truly aren't destined for anything more than a life in chains."

Ignore her.

"You are the perfect example of that tragedy - literally and figuratively you just can't escape them. Worse yet, you don't even want to."

Ignore her.

"No matter how many times you "free" yourself, you always go running back to your old master."

He whipped around to face her and snapped, "He's not my master! I don't belong to him! I never have! We're- I mean, we were-"

She smiled condescendingly at him, "Friends? Come now, you know better. He calls himself your king and you think he considers you his equal? You are but one of his subjects."

He stumbled through his retort, "That's not- It... Even if it was like that before, it's not like that now!"

She laughed and then cooed, "Oh? What's changed? Certainly not you. Here you are trapped and you're still consumed by thoughts of him."

He closed his eyes tightly as he clasped his hands over his ears, "I have changed. And so has he. It's not the same."

Her parting words echoed in his head, "I have seen your very soul, Six-Eared Macaque. We both know that deep down you haven't changed - you still cling to a dream of forever. A single promise more effective than any of the literal chains that have held you."

He let himself sink to the floor and curl tightly into a ball as he tried to drown out the truth.

MK was the kindest of the apparitions that haunted him, but his forced optimism did little to soothe him.

"Don't you worry, Macaque! I am all over this! I'll save the world and then we'll have another epic jailbreak sequence!" His confidence wavered, "Er, I don't know exactly how yet but I'll figure something out! I always do!"

MK squirmed under his scrutiny and he couldn't help but ask, "Why?"

Misunderstanding MK responded, "Well, because I don't know how to get you out yet? But I bet Nezha knows! We just need to convince him that-"

"No. Why would you save me?"

He looked perplexed, "What are you talking about? You're one of the good guys! You don't deserve to be in prison! I know you like to do your whole "I'm not a hero" shtick but you've literally helped us save the world, like, three times!"

He slumped against the wall, "Ah, so I'm useful. That's why, huh? Guess you're more like him than I gave you credit."

"What! That's not even anywhere near what I said! That's-"

"Face it, kid. You just have a misplaced sense of guilt - you just want to do the "right" thing. You don't actually care about me, you don't even know me. Trust me, if you did, you'd know I belonged here."

He looked hurt but Macaque dismissed the shadow before he could even reply.

Wukong was never kind. He tsked as he walked around, "You call this a prison? This is nothing - you basically have all the freedom you want and still you're just sitting around here moping."

He sneered, "A prison's still a prison. Don't forget I'm here because of you."

Wukong's tail lashed agitatedly as he glared at him, "I never asked you to play the hero! If you had just let me get caught I would have already busted out! Don't think I'm going to go out of my way to get you out of here!"

He raised his voice, "As if I expected you to! I know better than to rely on you!"

"Excuse me? I'm the unreliable one? When have you ever come through for me? You know what? I'm glad you're locked up in here! This way I don't even have to look at you! I can finally forget all about you!"

He felt his eyes burn, "I was just thinking the same thing. I don't need you to save me - this isn't a prison, it's an opportunity. I'm as far from you as I could possibly get, I can start over here. I'll finally be free."

Wukong scoffed, "What you going to do? Sign up as some demon lords lackey? Way to shake things up." He then laughed cruelly, "Or were you thinking of making some friends? As if anyone has ever bothered with you if they hadn't known you were with me. Face it, without me you have nothing!"

"Shut up!"

His magic pulsed dangerously, dispelling the shadow. For a moment all he could focus on was the turbulent emotions roiling in his chest but he snapped back to reality quickly when he realised he had telegraphed his location - he had to move.

Possibly the worst shape the shadows took however was of himself. Perched lazily beside him, he drawled, "You know, no matter whose metric you're judged by, no matter the judge or jury, you'd still be found guilty. There's not a soul alive that wouldn't agree you deserve to be here."

He said nothing but predictably his shadow didn't need his participation.

"We've got some time - how about we review?" He started to count off in his fingers, "You escaped the Dìyù - that's a big no-no, teamed up with the Lady Bone Demon - who you knew wanted to take over the world, tortured some innocent kid just for having a connection to your old buddy, Wukong."

The shadow crowed, "Oh and Wukong! Can't forget about him! He's long since been redeemed and you just can't stand the sight of it. So what do you do? Ha! What didn't you do? Attack him, destroy his stuff, sabotage his relationships... Oh! You tried to set the island on fire that one time!"

He snapped, "I didn't go through with it! I stopped it before anyone could ever tell what had happened!"

His shadow smiled, "You still did it though. You still wanted to hurt him so badly that you'd considered destroying the only home you've ever known to do it. Now if that's not the makings of a monster then I don't know what is."

He bowed his head and muttered, "I'm not that person anymore. I don't want to hurt him."

"Oh well that changes everything, doesn't it? You've turned over a new leaf - no comeuppance required! Good thing you stopped me before I could start on the list of atrocities from your heydays, eh? All that war and torture, the lies and deceit - I'm sure your many victims are all relieved to hear you've mended all your ways."

He grit his teeth, "It was more complicated than that."

"Was it? Every single time it was "more complicated than that"? You never got a thrill destroying kingdoms with well timed whispers? You never relished in the bloodshed? Don't act as if you've never considered putting those old skills to good use in here. To show them all what you're capable of. Ha! Could you imagine if the rescue party finally shows up and they see you for what you really are? Oh, the looks on their faces would be priceless!"

The shadow continued, "Even if you do resist the temptation - I doubt they'd be impressed with your hero work. How many times could you have intervened in someone's suffering and instead turned a blind eye?"

"I'm doing what I have to to survive."

"You keep telling yourself that. See if you can look the others in the eye and tell them the same thing. Not that they're coming though, right? How long's it been now? Got to be pushing the year mark at least, if not longer."

"A year could be a day there."

"How long you willing to cling to hope? Same as last time? Because five hundred years and you had nothing to show for it but a missing eye and an empty grave."

He couldn't answer.

----

Rumours were circulating around some of the lower levels - apparently the Hundred-Eyed Demon was awake once more and he was someone to be feared.

He only resurfaced every so often to feed off memories before hiding away again to sleep it off. From what he gathered there was no way for you to break yourself free of his spell - you just had to hope someone else was close by and willing to help.

He didn't seem interested in climbing too far up the Pagoda at least - the more densely populated areas his preferred stomping grounds. Easy enough to avoid then, he'd just stay on the upper floors until he went back to sleep - sounded like it should only take a few weeks by the day and night cycle routine he was going off of.

That was the plan at least until the Monkey King's name rippled through the Pagoda at an unprecedented pace.

This better be his rescue party or so help him, Wukong was never going to hear the end of this.

--End--

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#lmk #lmk fanfiction #my fanfiction #lmk macaque #oneshot #complete fic #originally posted on ao3 #tumblr fic #Shadowpeach #lmk season 5 spoilers

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