#ic | { Always Feeling Pathetic & Weak Within }

[futureplayboibunnie]

‘’NEXT TIME (1/?)’’

Aaron Hotchner x bau! fem! reader

18+

- only got 3 more exams left and then i’m free ahhhhh. i’m working on like 3 fics at the same time to procrastinate lmao. but my boy aaron takes priority. i was planning on making this an even longer fic with like a super sad ending but its so damn long i’ll have to add another chapter. love yaaaa x

warnings: smutty smut smut so be warned. pnv. some angsty aspects lowkey. aaron being the dom we all know he is. some swearing and bants.

It shouldn't have happened. It wasn't right. Your moral compass was straying, but when you were with Hotch...did it really matter if it felt like you were morally grey?

Time was blurring into a pin sphincter, it was flowing out of your fingertips and your grip on it was as neglectful as it was pathetic. Six months of dancing around knives and eggshells with Hotch, to hide the unprofessional courtesy of a passionate love affair between two federal agents that are bound by their work…..and secretly each other.

All you could ask yourself at this point was:

How did it come to this?

How could you have possibly been this stupid? This weak. This subjective. Now it was going to be the death of you, in more ways than one. It all started with one look, one small moment of weakness within both of you would inevitably be your undoing. One stupid look, on one stupid night between two sad and lonely people desperate to feel something, anything other than the pain and horror that's experienced every day on this job.

You stopped in your tracks when you should've kept walking.

————————

12:34 am. You were so close, the end of this day was near, thank God. You had been rushing around all day- the case was nearby but it was especially difficult to catch the unsub due to Hotch's personal connection to this one. He had worked a similar case to this one when he first started the bureau and it turned out that this was a bloodline murderer and stalker- the unsub's father was the original killer on one of Hotch's first cases and he was just carrying on his legacy. Alex Wall was definitely an unsub worth remembering. It was hazy but solved, what was unusual though was that you noticed it seemed to affect Hotch in a way you've never seen before. You knew it was personal for him but you had never seen him crack as much as this, it was jarring and it made you halt in your tracks

Aaron Hotchner finally peeling back the brooding facade seemed like a lunar event that happened once in every blood moon. It reminded you that Hotch was just a man. Just human. Not this robotic machine that caught killers for a living. The thought made your gaze soften as you collected your files from your desk, your brain turning to static as these thoughts about your boss run rampant through the forefront of your mind. It made you think. Everyone comes to Hotch when they have a problem, and he always seemed to have a solution. But who did he go to when he felt like the world was asking too much of him? When the stress of this job felt like an eternal haunt? You dismissed the thought as quickly as it came.

You and Hotch were in the same chilly waters. Ice blooded. You were both incredibly opposed to each other, even though you were both serious as hell about this job. If anything, you were supposed to get along like a house on fire as you inhibited the same outlook. He especially pissed you off on this case because you suggested that the unsub might have been stalking his victims for a span of 6 months and then attacking. You've never believed in anything this strongly about a case in so long but Hotch shot you down. But your gut wasn't lying. It never did.

You shouldn't be reading into this, you shouldn't even care about it but your conscious was poking at you. Plus you had some files you needed to drop off.

No. Not now.

It was late, you were the only ones here and you weren't sure if you were ready to indulge in conversation just yet. You could drop it off tomorrow morning. You walked past his office and caught a glimpse of him through his blinded windows, he was writing but he looked distracted. Agitated. Sad, even. Alcohol. It definitely caught your attention and you resented it deeply. You were too much of a good person, the thought made your eyes narrow as you stopped in your movements. Instead, you shifted and turned around and stared at Hotch's door. Taking a deep breath before knocking.

‘’Come in.’’ Hotch said curtly, lowering his pen and standing up from his desk so he was in your eyeline

‘’I have some files for you to close the case." You parroted his tone back at him as you handed him the files.

"Thank you."

You paused for a moment to study him. Maybe it was because of how dark it was outside, maybe it was because Hotch was looking incredibly attractive in this light right now but it seemed your tongue was moving faster than your brain.

"What's wrong with you?" You questioned brusquely, not in an insulting way but in a matter-of-fact way.

‘’I'm sorry?’’ Hotch raised his brow at your purpose. It wasn't that surprising that you spoke whatever it is that was prancing around in that mind of yours but it didn't mean that it wasn't disarming

‘’Do you keep spare glasses in your drawers as well as the whiskey or do you just splash a dose into your coffee after hours?’’ You attempted to conceal your smirk but it barely worked.

Hotch just glared at you with furrowed brows and a certain distasteful passivity that you'd grown to expect but he wasn't lashing out at you- he was too tired and drained. He opened his drawer and pulled out two glasses and the bottle of whiskey he indulges in after hours when a case had seemed to scramble up his head. He knew it would be useless to lie to you right now, not when you were looking this incredible this late at night. The thoughts occupied him when he poured you a glass.

‘’Sit.’’ He ordered and you comfortably obliged.

"Thank you." You chirped with a half smile as he handed you the drink and he resumed his position of sitting, his fingertips toying with the glass. You sat in silence for a while, studying each other. Noticing how uneventful and sad everything is. Hotch thought you looked beautiful in front of him.

"I think you don't give yourself enough credit.’’

"For what?"

"For how incredible you are."

Hotch's stare intensified, compliments weren't a rare occurrence for him to endure but from you, was…memorable. The words you uttered made his body still.

‘’Thank you. Coming from a woman like you, I'm flattered.’’ He was happy with his more than eloquent response.

"'A woman like me?"

"The smart and beautiful kind."

You chuckled dryly, your face blushing a cute pink at his compliment- he caught you out and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't completely happy with himself.

You on the other hand were afraid you were going to start sweating in front of him, your thighs were involuntarily clamping together.

"Why are you telling me this?" Hotched added, your sudden declaration piqued his interest.

‘’I’ve heard whispers of you transferring." You sighed as you crossed your arms. "I'm hoping it's not true."

This wasn't because of your own biased viewpoint of Hotch at all, the team would literally have a gaping hole without him. Quite frankly, the team would fall apart. Everyone would be directionless. You never really put weight to these rumors but there's no smoke without any fire. The thought soured your mood and it was written all over your face, you hoped he wouldn't notice it but as usual, it was impossible for him not to.

‘’I thought about it a while back, maybe to transfer to a white-collar crime division but I've found that I'm far too attached to this team. You won't be getting rid of me that easily.’’

‘’I prefer it to stay that way.’’ You said softly like an angel wistfully staring down from the clouds. Your face instinctively brightened at the fact he was staying here. He's the only one that could effectively lead this team and you also didn't want him to leave your eyeline anytime soon.

Now you didn't know what to say, you both shared a longing look- something so strange and hard to define. It was easy for him to get you like this, like the basest of sentimentality, like a child at prayer. You were so good at hiding things, it was a skill that you practically needed to have in order for the people you work with not to pry into your life. Now, it all felt superficial when your exterior was cracking under his brutal gaze.

Hotch was a force of nature, you were sure even the weather bowed down at his feet. The thought made you bite your lip as you bashfully hung your head before meeting his eyes once more.

‘’Your tell.’’ Hotch stated.

‘’What?’’ Your eyes were bright with invitation and confusion, catching you and disarming you once more.

‘’You're nervous but I can't figure out for the life of me why.’’ Hotch announced and it made a deep pit form within your stomach, a strange heat swirling within your gut. Why was it only with him you felt this way? It was like he was playing God with you. You no longer wished to entertain whatever deduction he had going on, mostly for your own professionality and dignity so you stood up from your seat with your empty whisky glass in hand and leaned over. Face to face. Real close, placing your glass down in front of him. His scent was mystifying, his cologne was headily intoxicating.

You whispered. ‘’If I told you then transferring might be a good option for you to keep open.’’ Your voice was soft and serious, your face was hard to retain your reputation but your pussy was clenching around nothing. You leaned back and walked to the closed door, your hand placed on the handle, ready and willing to leave before Hotch also stood up from his seat and followed you to the door. Before you knew it, you could feel his massive frame and broad shoulders looming behind you. Turning around leaning against the door, you were met with Hotch's flaming and scorching eyes- his face was the nearest it's ever been to yours and you had to stifle any sound your body was willing to make.

‘’I meant what I said.’’ Hotch mumbled. You hung your head up to admire his dauntless eyes.

‘’So did I. You finished for the night?’’

"Yeah, let me just grab my stuff and I'll walk you out."

‘’I’ll just be a second.’’ Your hands twisted at the handle and you walked yourself out. You had to tamper down the shit-eating grin that was adorning your face but it felt like a near impossible task.

It only took a few brief moments to collate your things and swing your bag around your shoulder and before idling about it for too long, Hotch was already walking down the stairs with his eyes completely and utterly set upon you. Fuck. His eyes were unflinching, he drank you in as you waited so patiently and prettily for him, it was a sight beyond wildest dreams.

Neither of you said anything as you walked to the elevator and pressed the button, the tension between the two of you was egregious and so easy to spot. When the elevator dinged and the metal doors opened, Hotch being the gentleman he is, let you in first and pressed the ground floor. Time was going so fast, you had to do or say something before you never got the chance again. You felt his eyes burn into you, that serious Hotch face that's he so infamously known for etched on his defined features.

"What's going on up there, Hotch?" Your voice was flirty and breathy- there's no way you could possibly make it any clearer to him.

‘’You.’’ He declared, your body stood paralysed at the unexpected words.

He grabbed your face harshly and pushed you against the elevator wall, his lips colliding with yours in a battle against wills, a battle against the the longing and tension that hindered you both.

A kiss that was messy- no finesse. Something you absolutely wouldn't ever correlate with Hotch. It was like you wanted your mouths on each other but you knew you couldn't. Between breaths, you mumbled out a plea. ‘’No...no, Hotch…we can't.’’

His mouth traveled to the bare skin of your neck instead and planted kisses to atone for your sighs. They were becoming uncontrollable until he pressed his forehead onto yours.

‘’I know. I know. I just wanted to know what it felt like to feel your lips.’’ His thumb outlined the curves of your lips and and tugged your bottom lip down and all you could do was stare at him dumbly. ‘’I can't stop staring at them but I'm sure you've figured that out already." Hotch admitted in a hazed-out manner, all your body was willing to do was stare at him as he cradled your face, imploring him, begging him for something neither of you could have freely.

"You kissed me.’’ You remarked, completely oblivious and dumbed down by just a kiss. Your eyes were wide and glinting under the soft elevator light.

‘'You are quite the profiler, aren't you?’’ He said gently, traces of humor present in his voice as he stared down at you. You just smirked back at him, finally mustering up the courage to not look like a deer in the headlights.

"You're making me flustered.’’

‘’I can see that.’’ He shot back, almost as if he was goading you on. You paused to let the blood run back into your brain again.

‘’We shouldn’t.’’ You said heavy lidded, hoping he would back off because if he didn’t you’d jump his bones right now. It was like he could read your mind because he instinctively retracted his hands back to himself and instead resumed his prior postion by your side. In a half assed attempt to remain professional. ‘’Do you really want IAB down here probing on all of us?’’

‘’Yeah. We really shouldn’t.’’

——

You were in his bed. Hot. Wet. Aggressive. Bordering on delusional. Trying to hold out on him. Your naked body was all his to savour, all his to touch, all his to pleasure.

‘’Aaron…fuck….I’m-‘’ You were half hypnotised. Your clear thinking was long gone at this point but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

‘’Tell me what you want, tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you.’’

His voice was gruff. Sincere. It was able to turn you into a pile of ashes in an instant, it was pathetic but reasonable. You didn't know how to answer him, you knew with all your heart that you wanted him and now you have him- you had no idea what to even do after that, you never thought you'd get that far.

Your head was dangling off the edge of the bed, hanging off as he kissed down your neck, making you writhe and squirm beneath him in the delicious process.

‘’I just want you, Aaron...I-m-‘’ You couldn't properly articulate a sentence, your brain was fogged up with arousal.

‘'Come on baby, be more specific with me.’’

‘’Aaron.’’ You warned.

‘’Or I'll stop.’’ He replied in a thick, heavy voice.

‘’Don't be cruel.’’

With that, he smirked at you and leaned up from your body to stare down at you through surveying and analytical eyes, another means to tease you- he knew you couldn't take it anymore, you were desperate and it made him all the more aroused. The thought was a chilling one. It was an irrefutable fact: Hotch needed control in every aspect of his life. Especially in bed.

‘’You're the one that's been cruel.’’ Hotch declared softly as if he was profiling you- it made you bite your lip, the way that he's literally got you in his bed and made you this fucking wet already but he still had a polite tone. Hotch reached for your face delicately and traced his thumb on your soft lips. ‘’Oh, honey. You really have no idea how cruel you've been to me over the past few months.’’

‘’Enlighten me.’’ You flirted back. He paused at the brashness of your challenge.

Hotch gave you a severe look and attempted to dismiss you but he knew it was futile, you were insatiable.

‘'Aaron. Enlighten. Me.’’ You enunciated, unafraid of the consequences he would so deliciously inflict on you. You were begging for it at this point.

‘’No.’’ Hotch replied simply and just grasped your hips harshly making you yelp. Your ears pricked up at the clank of his belt being unbuckled.

"Fuck you, Aaron.'’ You whined as he started to position himself at your throbbing pussy. Lord above, he was massive and you didn't doubt it one bit. But Aaron not baring his secrets only reinforced the reason why you disliked him in the first place, even when he's about to fuck you into oblivion, he's secretive and closed off.

‘'That's no way to talk, is it? Apologize.’’ He demanded as his eyes met yours.

"No.’’

‘’Apologize or I'll edge you until morning's end.’’ His lips fell into an undeniably serious frown, he wasn't joking- he looked angry and it only escalated your heart rate. Your mouth was running before you could stop it.

‘'You don't actually think I'd have any complaints about that, do you?'’ You raised your brow at him, passion and desperation oozing out of every pore, hatred spewing from your eyes.

Hotch contemplated your purpose underneath him, a fire boiling within him every second his eyes panned to you. You were squirming and bucking against him already, desperate for friction. Lord, you were frustrating. And completely beguiling. It was so difficult getting you to shut the fuck up at work and it transfers into bed too. He knew you'd pretend that this never even occurred. Going to work. Going about your day. Acting as if he didn't leave you shaking and dripping the night before.

Aaron was a calm and reasonable man when needed to be- but you were a force that made him reckon with his own calm and reasonable iudements

He wanted to do wicked things to you.

He wanted to make you weep under him.

If he were a smart man, he would let someone else have you. He would be selfless, he could do that if he really wanted to. But you were his: His sweet fixation.

His. Only.

‘’You're drooling all over yourself.’’ Hotch gritted through clenched teeth, the need to possess you clouding him when his hands flew straight to his belt and undid it so roughly you thought the buckle would snap. Your gasp was sweet and breathless and he wanted to inhale it.

'’Aaron just touch me. Please.'’ Your beg was a sore reminder of how desperate you were for the man that you once considered the bane of your existence, it made you lazily attempt to bite back a smirk. Now you were under him, filled with reckless abandon. You were too busy being flushed and wonton that you were entirely shocked to feel his tip graze you already. You couldn't do anything, your head was just hanging off the edge of the bed and you were locked within him.

‘’Where?’’ He asked, dragging it out.

‘'Fuck...you. You know exactly where.’’ You spat back at him, completely unimpressed by his need to prove something that didn't need to be proven.

‘’You never talk to me like this at work.’’ Aaron reached his hand and wrapped his fingers around the skin of your neck. His tone was severe. And a strange frisson of fear, arousal, and anger started to welt within you.

‘’You actually get things done at work.’’ You scolded, instantly regretting your response because of the reaction you were sure to get.

Aaron didn't even pause after you uttered those words. He pushed his throbbing dick inside of you, not even bothering to tease you into it, get you to ease up. He clenched his hand harder against your neck and he bit your neck. You were shocked. He liked it. He was being selfish, caring about his own suffering and pleasure more than yours. Bless your heart, he knew you regretted saying it but you said it anyway. He couldn't let this behavior pass, he just couldn't. It wasn't in his bones. You were moaning and whimpering as your bodies rocked back and forth. Oh, you were full of regret. It was adorable

‘’Apologize. Now.’’ Aaron demanded deliciously against your skin, biting and nipping at your collarbone to torture you and make you weak.

‘’No! You can't- you won't-‘’ You couldn't string together a sentence he was fucking into you that good, that heavy, that deep. words sank into your soul, the realization only dawning upon you.

‘’Say sorry.’’ He cooed.

A rumble of helplessness coated your chest, you felt so exposed, you felt so tainted by his presence. This was something to remember, something to keep close. Aaron. Just Aaron. The real Aaron. The Aaron behind the tight ties and tailored suits, the man behind the polite forms and cooler than fucking ice and steel. All you could do was whine like a bitch in heat. He was pounding into you so hard you were sure your pussy would remember the shape of him.

‘’Come on baby. Articulate.’’ Hotch smiled menacingly, his eyes spiraling in complete satisfaction at how dumb he's got you. An experienced profiler that's seen it all forgetting how to use her tongue. It was cute as fuck.

‘’I'm sorry!’’ You screamed at him, his fingers gripping the dip of your waist even harder than before.

"Now thank me.’’ He ordered cooly. This you could do. He was fucking you so hard and so good it made your head spin.

‘’Thank you. So much, Aaron. Fuck...so good.’’

This he liked. You being grateful. Compliant. God, his dick was so hard it was threatening to fall off. Aaron always seemed to avoid beautiful women, or just dating altogether after Haley - the women he wanted harbored secrets and made his life a living hell. You were no exception, but you were always someone he had to look twice at. Fuck, that face. He wanted to cum all over those pretty lips and in time he will.

‘’Good girl. My perfect girl.’’ He whispered and it sent your body into nothing but a blaze. Aaron knew you were clenching around him, your wetness spreading around his rigid dick. You were going to finish.

Woah. This was...fast. An indefinite ego boost.

‘’Aaron!’’ You screamed, your throat going raw as you wrapped your hands in his hair and tugged tirelessly as he bit your tits.

‘’I’m gonna-‘’

‘’Now cum.’’ He ordered again.

It was like your heart was being strangled and your stomach was doing flips. Your heat was spreading to every inch of your body and it felt like the man was corrupting you- ironic because he's just so damn good and an altruist. You convulsed and a loud throaty moan left you, it was like your soul was leaving your body too. Your cunt squeezed him tighter and Aaron gripped onto you just as much.

But then his hand reached over your mouth and his palm covered your lips to silence the scream that came exactly the same time. Damn, profilers. You came violently around him, your perfect body arching into him as your body relaxed. It was so immediate. It was the fastest you've ever came. Aaron could then clear the knots in his lower stomach as he gladly painted your insides. It was such a fucking relief from all this stress and this tension between you.

It was necessary. You were a necessity to him.

It wasn't professional, but he couldn't care when he was in you.

Aaron's insanely massive hands aided you in getting you fully back on the bed, you were starting to feel sore, and it made you feel alive. He handled you as if you were a dove, gently caressing your skin as he crawled back up into his bed, your head hitting the pillow. Your neck needed the support, the blood had rushed straight to your head and you still couldn't believe you were in Aaron bed. As he stood up to go to his bathroom, he took a second to admire you as you were splayed out like a goddess about the clouds looking down on him: he was just a man and you were an angel. Twisted in bedsheets with a sheen of sweat thinly coating your skin-you looked like a mythical being. Golden.

'What are you gawking at?' You caught onto his lingering stare.

‘’Nothing.’’ He dismissed, whipping his head around as he headed to the bathroom to get a towel. Brooding as always, even after fucking the woman that has plagued his dreams and thoughts for months.

You felt yourself get giddy at the sweetest oblivion. You couldn't escape it. You bit your lip and your pussy started throbbing again.

Aaron stared at himself in the bathroom mirror as he grabbed a towel and put his boxers back on. An apparent blush stained his face and his hair was in disarray. Wow, he really went at it. Some profiler. His whole body was coated in sweat and he felt his palm twitch slightly. He wasn't completely enthralled with the idea of his inability to keep his hands off of you, he was afraid this would transfer into his behavior at work. He calmed the swelling idea as he had to trust his instincts of being completely unbiased. Yeah, he could do it. He couldn't help but smile into his reflection, he felt elated with you. Like the man he knew he could be with you. He went back into his bedroom and there you were laying there wearing nothing but a smile. He doesn't think he's ever seen you this flustered. You felt like a teenager the way you were blushing a light pink.

‘’Now what are you gawking at?’’ Aaron parroted your question from earlier and it made you flick your tongue on your front teeth.

‘’You.’’

‘’Since when were you honest?’’ He joked as he sat back on the bed and helped you clean yourself up.

‘'Since you fucked me until I couldn't think.’’ You replied truthfully, completely impressed with yourself. ‘’At least I can admit it.’’

‘'Huh, I wonder what would've happened if you didn't listen to me.’’ Aaron scoffed as threw the towel on the floor.

‘’Let's try that out next time.’’ You flirted unashamedly. Eyes locking in a perpetual battle, two strong wills locked within mere gazes. Like a drug you knew that was bad for you, but you couldn't help but beg for hit after hit.

‘’There's a next time?’’ He flirted back with a wicked gleam in his eye.

‘’Or we could go back to work. Stripping each other with our eyes. Wanting nothing but to fuck like bunnies. Or maybe even being as unprofessional as bending me over and fucking me on your desk.’’

‘’You never talk to me like this at work.’’ He repeated from before when he was quite literally inside of you. Something that's not forming into your own personal inside joke.

‘’You actually get things done at work.’’ You smirked and he bent down and kissed your lips then the bridge of your nose and then your forehead.

Aaron crawled into the sheets next to you and held you, pulling you into his embrace, his big arms holding you steady. Your hair cascaded against the pillows around you forming a halo-like effect in your stature. Did this mean you were quite literally an angel? His angel? The thought made him hold onto you tighter, you felt it and it made you kiss his lips tenderly.

‘’Hm, so beautiful, so frustrating.’’ He mumbled and you giggled at him.

God, he was so good. He was the best at what he does and he was able to make you feel so safe in his arms and in his presence. A few thoughts occurred to you as you fell into his chest, inhaling his scent as your eyes went heavy. You felt happy. Your dark thoughts were quelled as his fingers traced around your skin. It was like you could see a future where you weren't constantly looking over your shoulder waiting for the other shoe to drop. You...deserved this

But you couldn't have this and your job.

No.

Not now.

You'll think about the consequences later. Right now, everything is just him.

————————

It felt as though Hotch's ears were ringing.

A dull, screeching sound awakened him from the best night's sleep he's ever had, with you, here, next to him. Lying on his chest, breathing in and out, long lashes fanning your face perfectly. It felt too good to be true, for him to have you in his embrace. The ringing of his phone lighting up the bedside table made him sigh, he couldn't deal with this right now. Not this late or early, not when he had you in his arms- that was his priority right now. But he had a job to do, he couldn't give that up. You started to stir from your sleep as the phone continued ringing.

‘'Aaron...phone.’’ You mumbled. Hotch reached for the phone and tried to act as if he had been awake for hours but in reality, he was twisted in bedsheets with his colleague.

‘’Agent Hotchner.’’ He answered as he put the phone to his ear, his grip on you becoming tighter than before.

‘’Agent Hotchner, this is Erin Strauss. We have an issue.’’ Aaron's brows furrowed and his face hardened, why was Strauss calling him at this hour? Your eyes blinked open as he looked up at Aaron, he was wearing his serious face

‘’Involving?’’

‘’Alex Wall. He escaped from prison an hour ago and he's already killed again. Washington P.D has no leads and they need the BAU back.’’

‘’I'll be right there.’' He replied flatly but his blood was burning cold and his heart was thundering within his chest, he wasn't sure if you could feel it.

'’Aaron, what's wrong?’' You gazed up at him.

‘’We need to go.’’

[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

The Phoenix and the Crow

part forty

pairing: kaz brekker x fem!reader

genre: neutral/fluff

el's thoughts: it's been sooooo long since i've written and i'm afraid that i'm a little rusty haha, but here you go!!

masterlist

As the schooner sped south, it was as if the whole crew was sitting vigil. Everyone spoke in hushed tones, treading quietly over the decks, hyper-aware of Y/N lying in bed in Kaz’s room.

The Ferolind felt like a ghost ship. Kaz was sequestered with Y/N, and he’d asked for Wylan’s help caring for her. Even if Wylan didn’t love chemistry, he knew more about tinctures and compounds than anyone. So the chemist and Nina spent every waking minute trying to nurse their resident Inferni back to health.

Anyone who entered the room Y/N was staying in could instantly feel how stressed Kaz was. They would have to be blind not to have noticed the toll her illness took on him. The deep dark circles that rested under his eyes seemed worse than they’d ever been before. His sleeping habits were nonexistent before, yet he never let it show. But now he looked weak. Physically ill. Within the few days he’s been waiting for Y/N to wake up he appeared to have aged a few years. It was nothing a proper night’s sleep, shower, and meal couldn’t fix, but it disturbed the other Crows to see him in such a state.

Nina and Inej finally got him to bathe himself, the Heartrender claiming that Y/N would never wake up if he stayed by her side smelling like a Barrel rat. So when Kaz stepped out of the pathetic excuse for a washroom, he nearly collapsed to his knees at the sight of Y/N sitting up in bed.

He was frozen in shock, he was barely able to choke out a few words. “You’re awake.”

Y/N jumped slightly and groaned at the jolt it gave her body.

“Sorry,” Kaz walked to her bedside while rubbing the thin fraying towel in his hand through his hair.

“It’s fine,” she coughed in reply. Her hand blindly feeling for a cup on the table next to her. Kaz reached for the pitcher and poured the cold water into the glass before handing it to her. Y/N smiled at him gratefully and chugged the water down before placing the cup back. “Thank you.”

“How…” Kaz cleared his throat before murmuring quickly. “How’re you feeling?”

Y/N pushed herself higher up on her pillows, “More alive than I could’ve claimed earlier.”

She’s alive.

That’s all that mattered to Kaz in that very moment. The reward that waited for him completely left his mind for just a spilt second as he mentally relaxed over the comforting fact that she was still with him.

She’s alive.

~

Y/N had always known there was a good chance they wouldn’t make this journey home at all, that they’d end up in cells in the Ice Court or skewered on pikes. But she’d figured that if they managed the impossible task of rescuing Yul-Bayur and getting back to the Ferolind, the trip back to Ketterdam would be a party. They’d drink whatever Spect might have squirreled away on the ship, eat the last of Nina’s toffees, recount their close calls and every small victory. But she never could have foreseen the way they’d been cornered in the harbor, and she certainly couldn’t have imagined the type of sacrifice she’d made in order to get them out of it. But as she looked around the deck she knew that she would do it all over again in a heartbeat.

These people had grown to be her family much against her will. If some heaven-sent Saint came to her only two years ago and told her that she would become the closest friends with a convict, a sharpshooter, a runaway, a spy, one of her ex-soldiers, and a thief… She would have laughed in their face. But here she sat, wrapped in a warm blanket brought to her by the Suli spy, drinking a cup of tea made by the runway mercher’s kid. Her skin had grown pale and carried a constant cold sweat despite the cool ocean breeze flowing through her hair and over her skin. But she was well enough to finally leave the room and walk about the main deck for a short while.

When Kerch finally appeared on the horizon, Y/N felt a strange mixture of relief and trepidation. She knew that their lives were about to change, and she could only hope for the better while she prayed to any Saint above that Nikolai received her letter in time.

They dropped anchor, and when nightfall came, Jesper had asked Kaz if he could join him and Rotty in the longboat they were rowing to Fifth Harbor. Y/N knew they didn’t need him, but she could tell he was desperate for a distraction.

A few hours later she could see them down a canal, making their way back to the ship.

“Look at that,” Kaz said, holding the paper out for Y/N to read. Congratulations. Your country thanks you.

The words left a funny feeling to settle in her stomach as Jesper laughed. “As long as my country pays cash. Does the council know the scientist is dead?”

“I put it all in my note to Van Eck,” Kaz said. “I told him that Bol Yul-Bayur was dead but that his son is alive and was working on jurda parem for the Ferjdans.”

“Did he haggle?”

“Not in the note. He expressed his ‘deep concern,’ but didn’t mention anything about price. We did our job. We’ll see if he tries to bargain us down when we get to Vellgeluk.”

Jesper glanced at the Inferni quickly before turning his attention back to Kaz. “Will Wylan come with us to meet with Van Eck?”

“No,” Kaz said, fingers drumming on the crow’s head of his cane. “Matthias will be with us, and someone needs to stay behind with Y/N. Besides if we need to use Wylan to twist his father’s arm, it’s better that we don’t show our hand too early.”

Y/N glared at Kaz’s profile as he spoke. Jesper looked between the two and quickly made a lame excuse to leave.

“What do you mean I stay behind?”

“You’re in no condition to come with us, you’re still weak.”

Y/N scoffed but a coughing fit instantly followed. “I’m not weak, besides you’ll need the Ravkan representative present during the trade.”

Kaz stared at her for a moment, flicker of emotion flared behind his eyes before he turned away. Y/N reached her index finger to lock it with his.

“I know your concern, but my presence is needed and you can’t deny that. I promise I’ll be careful.”

“You can’t make promises you can’t keep,” Kaz said and looked back at her. “Since when are you known to be careful?”

The inferni chuckled and leaned closer to his side, barely leaning her head against his shoulder. “Thank you for trusting me.”

Kaz gave no reply as he stood stiffly beside her with no intention of leaving.

~*~

@katherinereid @littlecat21 @jahayla-parker @maliciousbrekker @brekkershadowsinger @brekkers-desigirl @clunaes @wonderland2425 @bookloverfilmoholic @karensirkobabes @bookworm-center @el-de-phi @so-get-this-sammy @crispy-croke @cometsghost @auttumnsayshi

[kitkatscabinet]

Temper temper

Osferth x reader

Summary: tempers flare and hurtful words are thrown

Word count: 1k

Requested by anon. It took me a while to think of what they could be fighting about, I almost made it about all the other women thirsting over him tbh

From the moment you met Osferth your relationship had been nothing short of perfect. You had been one of Uhtred's before the baby monk joined the crew and had been the first to truly accept him with no judgement.

After all, you weren't exactly the type of person many expected to be associated with Lord Uhtred yourself. While you had certainly relished in teasing the shy and inexperienced boy you always knew when to stop.

You had been the one to comfort him after his first battle, then his first kill. You were there every step of the way throughout the years, never one without the other. In short, inseparable, knowing each other's minds better than your own.

Sure you had had slight disagreements here and there but you never fought. That was why when he yells at you for the first time it is completely unexpected.

He had recently broken his arm and as such, you hadn't wanted him to join the battle that was to occur at Tettenhall. Naturally, you had thought this was a reasonable ask but he hadn't agreed.

"Please my love, don't go, I don't want you to get hurt" you pleaded, holding his good hand within your own. Instantly he pulled away from your touch, a frown crossing his face. "Osferth what-" you start only to rear back as he harshly replies

"Why, do you think me weak?" you were incredibly taken aback by his tone, you had noticed the smell of ale on his clothes and his face hadn't lit up in a smile like it usually did when he saw you. Still, that was no reason for the sheer venom he had used to address you.

"What? No!" you were quick to deny but apparently, your response had only served to fuel the fire of his temper.

"Why'd you sound so uncertain then? You still think me that weak pathetic little boy you first met? you think I need you to protect me, to tell me what to do?" With each question, he had gotten louder and further into your personal space and for the first time in your life Osferth is making you nervous.

"Where is this coming from Os, you know I've never thought you weak. I'm just worried about you" you tried to keep your voice steady to placate him but once more you have the opposite effect.

"I don't need your worry! I'm so sick of you nagging me all the time!" You can feel the heat of his breath on your face, causing you to flinch back minutely before you can stop yourself.

A cold indifference suddenly washed over you, and even as you see Osferth's eyes widening in regret and his hand reaching out to grab you, you scoff and dodge aside.

"Fine, I won't waste my time on you anymore then" your words are like ice and before Osferth can realise what had happened you have already left. Once he realises what has just happened, what he has just done he is quick to try and follow but you are long gone.

You had retreated to the safety of your lord's side, taking up residence in his small house with red-rimmed eyes. Uhtred thankfully hadn't commented apart from a casual offer to kill someone and had simply let you curl up under his furs without complaint. Since you'd met Osferth he hadn't been the one you'd gone to for comfort for quite some time and a large part of him was happy that you were still content to do so.

Once he had been assured you were ok your lord had taken residence outside his hut, keeping vigil as he waited for Osferth to slink his way.

"Baby monk" he greeted coolly, watching as the boy shrunk in on himself slightly.

"Lord" he nodded, hands ringing together nervously, "are they here? Please, I really need to apologise." Uhtred continued to stare for a little while longer hand resting threateningly on the hilt of his dagger. To his credit, Osferth did not back down and as such Uhtred eventually relented and let him pass.

"Baby monk" he called over his shoulder, "I will not be so lenient next time" he promised.

"There will not be a next time Lord, I swear it." With those final words, Osferth stepped into the room you had sequestered yourself in. Upon seeing your form curled up into a ball under the covers he allows his lips to quirk up slightly at the adorable sight before it drops when he remembers he's the cause.

"Love-" he gently calls only to be cut off by your muffled voice.

"Go away Osferth" the usage of his full name was a testament to how truly upset you were, you only ever called him by pet names these days.

"I can't do that love. Not until you can find it in yourself to forgive me" he gently said, perching himself on the edge of the bed before leaning down to entrap the lump that was you within his good arm. Thankfully you didn't squirm too much in an attempt to get away, laying silently as he whispered feverish apologies on repeat. Eventually, you broke the silence mumbling

"I'm still really angry at you."

"I know love, I'm angry at me too"

"If you ever say anything like that to me again I'll kill you" you murmured angrily before turning aggressively under the covers, burying your face into his chest despite the layer of blankets and furs.

"I'll hand you the blade myself" he solemnly promises, smiling slightly in triumph as he hears you huff a laugh. The two of you stayed wrapped up in each other for what felt like hours. Neither speaking or moving, as tempers cooled. In your comfort you were on the verge of falling asleep when you heard Uhtred's yell

"You better not be humping in my bed!"

Taglist: @eudximoniakr

[lonelinessmademecrazy]

You said you've been writing down (or rather, typing up) whatever comes to your head when you first wake up. Would you be comfortable sharing some of the things you've written?

Sure, I see no harm in that. Some of the dates are a bit off due to me forgetting what days I had or had not accounted for.

Also, this will probably have a “read more” section bc this is LONG.

6/1/24

pasta would be better without the wait time. Why can’t it be packaged like udon?

6/2/24

No, I’m not paying for your tax write-off of a vacation

6/3/24

I’m not a monster. I’m not a creature. I’m not a god. I’m human. I’m normal. I’m perfectly normal.

6/6/24

Just like the coocoo bird effect,I killed my false parents. Dug my teeth into their flesh and tore and shred until there was nothing left. Only blood and bone shards.

6/7/24

cheese. not celery. CHEESE. Worst salsa de queso ever

6/9/24

I want chocolate

6/10/24

Feigning humanity only starves me further.

6/11/24

They worship the very thing that will kill them. They know it’ll kill them. Why do they expect appreciation from an old deity?

6/12/24

el conejo es muy delicioso

6/13/24

Tear, rip, shred, filét, slice, stab, scratch, do what I want. I’m so hungry and so angry.

6/15/24

Need to make friends. I’m so lonely

6/16/24

You’re a fucking liar. Go kill yourself.

Better yet, let me do it for you, pathetic waste of flesh.

6/17/24

I’m not a monster. I’d never eat that. I’d never do that. Nobody should worship me.

I’m just a normal human.

6/18/24

Kitty cat!! In car!! I want a pet kitty!

6/21/24

Those macarons were so fucking good. I should go get some more. Vanilla and pistachio

6/22/24

Beach

6/23/24

Water would be nice. It’s so hot

6:24/24

Mayonnaise is such a weird condiment

6/28/24

Cookies and cream flavored milkshakes are the best thing to grace the shelves of my fridge.

6/29/24

How much could a creature possibly need to eat? So many lives lost.

7/1/24

Sleep is for the weak

7/2/24

God, please let me sleep

7/3/24

Sleepy time tea

Check the mail

7/5/24

Cult. It’s a cult. They’re in fucking cult.

They worship the same thing that warned me about them

7/7/24

Don’t let them know

I know

I’m starving

7/9/24

Cake pops would sell so good on campus.

7/10/24

What do you mean you want a cheeseburger combo with no cheese. That’s just a hamburger combo.

No, a combo is just the burger and fries, you’re thinking of a meal. The meal has a drink with it.

7/11/24

I fucking hate fast food, oh my god

7/12/24

My thoughts get louder at night. Just when I think things are changing.

My thoughts get louder at night.

The insistent need to tear and rip and shred. I’d never, though.

I’m not a monster.

Right?

7/13/24

Shut up, you can make your own damn french fries.

7/14/24

I deserve a pay raise

7/15/24

That guy is not even real. Why does everyone think he’s stalking me?

7/18/24

It’s raining so much. I hate hurricane season

7/19/24

Can I PLEASE make it to work without driving through a literal flood??

7/20/24

Burger

Fries

Milkshake?? Eh, ice cream is better

7/21/24

Hunger. It’s all I feel. No matter how much I eat, I’m always hungry.

Maybe I’m not eating the right thing.

7/22/24

My teeth itch every time one of you talks. You’re all so annoying, I just wanna bite out your jugulars.

7/23/24

Bacon jerky

7/24/24

Something claws from deep within, begging for just a taste. Just a drop, a shred, a chunk, a bite.

I don’t want to eat that. That’s gross. But my brain tells me otherwise.

7/25/24

I’ve been a puppet, a pauper, a pirate, a poet

A pawn and a king

7/26/24

How many lives did they truly live? How many times did they all repeat that same, vicious cycle.

How lucky am I to be an outside viewer.

An observer

7/27/24

Kimchi jiggae and a big ass bottle of strawberry caplico

7/28/24

I want strawberry milk

7/29/24

He’s not the guardian. He’s the voyeur. That fucking liar. You’re just as bad as your captor.

8/1/24

Mmmm steamed egg

8/2/24

Vanilla ice cream

No, strawberry

[bojackhorsemanobviously]

having mom problems using chatai for vent fluff Bojerb style the chat made him A GHOST

BoJack Horseman stood at the entrance of his childhood home, his heart pounding in his chest. The dilapidated mansion seemed to loom over him, its decaying facade mirroring the memories trapped inside. He took a deep breath, pushing open the creaking door and stepping into the darkness within.

As he made his way through the empty corridors, the bitter taste of anticipation filled his mouth. He knew what awaited him—his mother, Beatrice Horseman, a woman whose coldness had etched itself deep into his soul. Their relationship had been a twisted dance of disappointment and resentment, and BoJack couldn't help but wonder if this visit would be any different.

Finally, he reached the room where his mother resided. The door creaked open, and there she sat, perched on an ornate armchair, her gaze fixed on the television set playing an old black-and-white movie. The wrinkles on her face seemed to deepen as she turned her attention to her son.

"Well, well, if it isn't BoJack," Beatrice said, her voice dripping with disdain. "What brings you back to this miserable house? I hope it's not for any selfish reason."

BoJack swallowed hard, trying to maintain his composure. He had come seeking solace, a fleeting hope that he could find comfort within the walls that had scarred him. But his mother's words cut deep, as they always did.

"No, Mother," BoJack replied, his voice quivering slightly. "I...I just needed someone to talk to."

Beatrice let out a cruel laugh. "Talk? What could you possibly have to say that I would care about?"

BoJack's heart sank, but he refused to let her dismiss him once again. "I've been feeling lost, Mother. Like I'm drowning in my own mistakes. I thought maybe...maybe you could understand."

Beatrice's face softened for a moment, revealing a flicker of something resembling empathy. But it quickly vanished, replaced by her signature ice-cold expression.

"You've always been weak, BoJack," she spat. "Crying about your problems won't solve anything. You're just like your father—pathetic and useless."

As BoJack's eyes welled up with tears, he felt a sudden warmth beside him. Herb Kazzaz, his best friend and confidant, materialized from the shadows. Herb had passed away years ago, a victim of their fractured friendship, but his presence now brought a sense of comfort BoJack desperately craved.

"Hey, buddy," Herb said, his voice gentle and reassuring. "Don't listen to her. You're stronger than you think."

BoJack turned to Herb, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "Herb, I miss you. I miss having someone who understands."

Herb smiled sadly. "I miss you too, BoJack. But you don't need me to find your way. You have it in you to break free from this cycle of pain. You can become the person you want to be."

As Herb's words echoed in BoJack's mind, he found a newfound resolve. He realized that seeking validation from his mother would only lead to disappointment, and that he needed to find strength within himself.

With one last glance at Beatrice, BoJack turned away, leaving the room behind. As he stepped out into the sunlight, he felt a weight lift off his shoulders. He knew the journey ahead wouldn't be easy, but he had his best friend, even in spirit, guiding him.

And so, BoJack Horseman set out to rewrite his story, armed with the lessons he had learned from his past. The road to redemption was long and arduous, but he was determined

@bojackandherb

[feebledetective]

Seiji & Zenitsu’s relationship;

   Seiji:  You and I? Bff’s. We’re outcasts but we’ll always stick together! <33 I’ll protect you!!

   Also Seiji: *smacks him hardcore* sHuT THE FUCK UP, YOU’RE FUCKING ANNOYING STOP YELLING AND CRYING WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU 2????????

@lightningstriks

[comfortbucky]

hey hey! can u do some fluffy bucky about having to share a hotel room w u and there’s only one bed!!!! and he’s trying to be respectful n stuff but man does he have the fattest crush on u! thank u <333

HEY HEY YES OMFGGG THE ONE BED TROPE (ur mind😌🤝)

i’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE I DIDN’T EXPECT IT TO COME SO SOON

𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝗱, 𝘁𝘄𝗼 𝗶𝗱𝗶𝗼𝘁𝘀 ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ｡˚

pairing: bucky x fem!avenger!reader

tags: enemies(?) to lovers BABYYYY, angst, fluff

A/N: i almost always write about tfatws!bucky in mind but let me try and branch out by writing about avenger!bucky hehe

i hope u enjoy🥺💗i absolutely loved this prompt and loved writing this!!!! (it is almost 4am for me as i am posting this :) i’m insane :))

this oneshot will not be following the canon timeline!

word count: 2k

my masterlist!

completed requests!

“Stick to the plan, Y/N.” Steve’s voice came through over the intercom. She rolled her eyes at his warning. He always seemed to be extra cautious with her, making her feel like an unimportant member of the team, and this mission was no different.

“I got this,” she said, completely ignoring his request and charging headfirst at the enemy. Her brash decision resulted in her receiving a heavy beat down, ending up with a split lip and fractured ribs.

Needless to say, Steve was pissed. He and Y/N developed a close friendship over the years, during his search for Bucky. She was oftentimes the one who would stay up all night with him, looking for any trace of Bucky’s existence online. She’d become one of the closest people in his life, which is exactly why he was upset with her, endangering her own life.

After the mission, he confronted her at the base camp.

“You could’ve gotten killed!”

“But I didn’t,” she snapped back. “And the mission was a success anyways, so I don’t get why you’re so mad right now.”

Steve closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing.

“It’s reckless behavior like this that’s eventually going to get you killed, Y/N.”

Bucky walked into the room and immediately regretted his decision as soon as he laid his eyes on Y/N. He’d come to foster an animosity towards her, after seeing her close friendship with Steve. After Bucky joined the Avengers, he noticed how much time they spent together, and jealousy started to fester within him. Steve was the only person he felt comfortable being around in the tower and she constantly took him away from Bucky. Everyone else seemed to have an aversion to him, or so he assumed. He never gave anyone the chance to get to know him, locking himself up in his room most hours of the day. Bucky didn’t think anyone would want to get to know an ex-assassin, especially one that killed the Tony Stark’s parents. She was the one thing that kept Steve away from him and he despised it. So Bucky did what he did best and avoided any sort of interaction with her.

Steve looked at Bucky and suddenly, an idea popped in his head. He had noticed how closed-off Bucky had been since joining the Avengers and refused to let Y/N be alone, worried that she might make another brazen decision. He hatched a plan to kill 2 birds with 1 stone.

“Bucky,” Steve said, making his way over to him. “You and Y/N will be assigned to the same room tonight.”

Bucky choked on his own spit in response and Y/N began to protest.

“You’re not serious, right?” Steve turned to face her with a stern expression.

“You’re not giving me any reason to trust you to be alone.” She let out a defeated sigh and crossed her arms across her chest.

“Why me?” Bucky asked, trying to figure out how he ended up in this situation.

Steve placed a hand on Bucky’s shoulder and looked into his eyes. “Because I trust you, Buck. I need you to do this for me.”

Bucky could see the desperation in Steve’s eyes and reluctantly nodded.

Steve was able to obtain another key card to the hotel room that Y/N was assigned to for the mission. He forgot to take into account the logistics of the sleeping arrangements, leaving Bucky to find a single bed as he entered Y/N’s room.

Bucky froze, his right hand on the door handle, keeping it open, his left hand by his side, holding his duffel bag. He racked his brain, trying to figure out what to do, when Y/N’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Relax,” she started, motioning for him to come inside. “I’ll sleep on the floor, alright?”

Y/N knew that Bucky didn’t like her, despite Steve trying to convince her otherwise. It hurt her feelings a bit, especially after she’d learned so much about him through both Steve’s stories and the time she spent tracking him down. He was such an important person to Steve, her close friend, and Bucky hated her. At first, she figured he was shy and wasn’t ready to open up to anyone else, especially after all the trauma he endured. But she realized he actively disliked her over time, with Bucky always leaving the room when she entered or ignoring her offers to hang out with her and Steve. Eventually, she gave up on reaching out to Bucky, as she only seemed to upset him further, no matter what she did. She figured it was for the best.

Bucky stepped into the room and shook his head.

“Bed’s too soft for me anyways, I’ll take the floor,” he grumbled.

Y/N shrugged in response, knowing that Bucky would be too stubborn to try and argue against. She turned around and picked up the phone, calling the front desk to ask for extra blankets and pillows. When she hung up the phone, she turned back to Bucky to see him nod in thanks.

The rest of the night was silent, as they both prepared for bed, taking turns going into the bathroom to wash up and change. While Y/N was in the bathroom, Bucky arranged the extra blankets and pillows into a makeshift bed on the ground, something that he’d done countless times before. Y/N exited the bathroom in an oversized t-shirt that covered her shorts, and placed her toiletries bag in one of the hotel dresser drawers.

“Bathroom’s all yours.” Bucky grunted in response, grabbing some clothes and a bag headed for the bathroom.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” he stated, just before shutting the door behind him. Y/N scoffed at his comment, gently climbing into bed, in an attempt to not further injure her ribs. She winced as she tried to get into a comfortable position before settling to sleep on the side of her unaffected ribs.

Bucky emerged from the bathroom to see Y/N lying on her left side, her back towards him. He assumed that she had already fallen asleep and quietly crawled into his makeshift bed.

Approximately 10 minutes had passed, when he heard her sniffling. At first, he thought the noise was coming from outside the window, but he traced it back to her. He remained lying on his back for a moment, deciding whether or not to say something. Bucky sighed before speaking.

“You okay?” Y/N immediately stiffened upon hearing Bucky’s voice. She was hoping that he wouldn’t hear her crying, despite his super soldier hearing abilities.

“Yeah, ‘m fine,” she replied back, her voice wavering as she spoke. Y/N hated how weak and pathetic she sounded in that moment. Her fractured ribs made it hard for her to breathe and the adrenaline, that was previously shielding her from the pain, had faded, leaving her to lie there in agony. On top of that, she also felt that this mission solidified her belief that Steve had little faith in her ability to be an Avenger. The last thing she wanted to do right now, was to confess her insecurities to Bucky.

Bucky’s attitude softened, hearing Y/N’s voice crack when she spoke. He knew she’d gotten hurt due to her own, dumb, decision during the mission. Bucky quietly pulled his blankets off and stood up, leaving the room without saying another word. As soon as the door shut, Y/N burst into tears. Bucky did exactly as he’d done in the past many times before, leave. She wasn’t sure why this time upset her more than the rest. Probably because she knew that he was aware of her crying and he’d still chosen to abandon her completely.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening, causing her to stop crying. Y/N listened to Bucky’s footsteps growing closer, and felt the bed dip under his weight as he sat on the edge she was facing towards. She peered over the blanket she was covering her face with, to see Bucky facing her, holding a bag of ice, wrapped in a towel. Bucky’s heart sank at the sight of her glossy eyes and tear stained cheeks in the moonlight.

“For your ribs,” he spoke softly, gesturing to the ice bag in his hands.

“Oh. Thank you.”

Y/N took the bag from him, attempting to slowly sit up. She closed her eyes as she grimaced, and suddenly felt a hand on her back, helping her up. Her eyes opened to reveal Bucky, with a soft smile on his lips. She silently thanked him again, placing the ice bag on the right side of her ribcage.

“Thought you hated me,” she mumbled, keeping her gaze down on her lap. He furrowed his brows, keeping his eyes on her.

“I don’t hate you.”

“Well, you definitely don’t like me.”

Bucky paused at her comment, thinking about his next words, before responding.

“I don’t like that you take up all of Steve’s free time,” he grumbled, causing Y/N to quickly look up at Bucky, his eyes averting her gaze. Her face fell, immediately realizing why Bucky had treated her so coldly all this time. He just missed his friend.

“I’m so sorry, Bucky.” She placed a hand on his shoulder and he looked up at her in response. “I didn’t realize, I’m sorry.”

Bucky didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t expecting her to be so kind and understanding, even coming up with multiple points to argue back at her. He realized then that he didn’t know her at all, but that he wanted to now. In an instant, she became an entirely different person. He studied her eyes and wondered if they had always sparkled like that, if her cheeks were naturally rosy, or if her lips had always been so pink and plump.

His expression softened and he cleared his throat. “It’s fine,” he muttered, tearing himself away from her gaze to look down at his lap. After a moment of silence, Bucky stood up to return back to the floor.

“Stay.” The words left Y/N’s mouth before she had time to process them. Bucky froze and turned to face her. “I mean, if you want to, of course. Just figured the floor must be super uncomfortable for you.” Y/N felt a blush creep up onto her cheeks and kicked herself mentally. She looked down at her hands, regretting the words she spoke, before feeling the bed dip again. She looked up to see Bucky. He smiled and she almost melted at the sight.

She shifted over, putting the ice bag on the nightstand, as Bucky crawled into bed next to her. The two rested on their backs, both staring at the ceiling in silence. Bucky remained at a respectful distance away, not wanting to overstep any boundaries. Y/N turned on her left side, her good side, to face him.

“I’m glad you don’t hate me.”

Bucky turned on his side to face her before responding.

“I don’t think I could ever hate you.”

A strand of her hair had fallen in front of her face and Bucky, instinctively, reached out a hand to tuck it behind her ear. Immediately, he regretted it, about to pull his hand back when Y/N took her hand and placed it on top of his, guiding it to rest on her cheek. He cupped her face in his hand and she leaned into his embrace. Bucky felt his heart rate increase as she moved her body closer to his, wrapping the arm she used to hold his hand on her face, across his side. He shifted towards her as well, wrapping his arm around her body, bringing her closer to him.

“Is this okay?” He whispered, nervous that he might have somehow misinterpreted the situation. He hadn’t been with a woman in such an intimate way in years and had no idea what he was doing. Y/N looked up at him and nodded, before snuggling her face into his chest and Bucky felt a wave of calm wash over him.

“Can you stay here tonight?” Y/N mumbled, her face pressed into his chest. He chuckled at the vibrations from her voice and kissed her temple, smoothing her hair back.

“I’ll stay as long as you want me to, honey.”

[cqsuanla]

fury shakes the rafters

pairing: dark!nat/f!reader

summary:

Aside from the cannibalism, Nat is mostly the same. Still ridiculously strong and stupidly hardheaded. And that face — flinty, cold, mean. Nat’s always been mean. 

(inspired by jennifer’s body)

additional notes: mommy kink, dom/sub, bloodplay(?), dacryphilia, uhh pussy spanking, choking, unhealthy relationship, terrible aftercare

title from a song suggested by an anon: nobody by the crane wives

(ao3)

The light in the stairwell flickers, but it doesn’t make a difference, dim and dirty as it is. It buzzes distantly in your ears. You’re too focused on taking the steps two at a time to notice. You hold your groceries to your chest and fish your keys out of your pocket. If you were strong like Nat, you might just have knocked the door clean of its hinges with the force of your body. Instead, it crashes loudly into your wall, and you nearly fall on your face from the momentum. 

In a bid to gain purchase on your wall, you sweep your coat rack over, and you stumble over it. The clatter makes you wince — you hope she’s in a good mood. It’s hard for her to process stimuli when she’s weak. You scramble onto your hands and knees, shoving scattered boxes and cans into the grocery bag. 

Then, the rhythmic thud-thud of footsteps. You pause, exhaling as your eyes close. 

“Drink?” in a monotone. 

Yikes. You open your eyes, biting your lip. Steel-toed boots. You’ve told Nat a million times that this is a shoes-off apartment. She never listens, and you never argue more. Nat stays; she’s the only one who’ll stay. You can’t drive her away. 

Her right boot rises, scraping against the floor, and you flinch. It just kicks a cereal box away so it can nudge at the shopping bag. The way she says your name, evenly, firmly, has you blinking rapidly, has your hands automatically shooting to the bag, following her prompt. Thank god the bottles are fine. You don’t know what you’d do if they had shattered. 

You wiggle a beer out of the pack, and only then do you dare to make eye contact. 

“Hi,” you murmur. 

She gives you a brief glance, impassive, before snatching the bottle from your hand and returning to her spot on the armchair. “That fucking coat rack.” She flicks the cap off your side table, grungy and scratched up for this very reason. The cap bounces off the wall and disappears under the couch. “Just move it further in. You never listen.” 

You did, weeks ago. You don’t say so. 

The coat rack came with the place, and it was nice, so you refused to get rid of it. Nat hated it, hated that it was so close to the door in your already bite-sized entryway, but never enough to throw it out herself. But you did move it because her complaints were valid, and you wanted her to like being here with you, living here with you. Anyway, she stopped complaining afterwards. Not that you think she noticed — you supposed it was a minor inconvenience to her, the way a fly was, annoying when it was in your face but non-existent once it stopped bothering you. 

Quietly, you move your groceries to the kitchen island, putting everything but your new medical supplies away. There are dirty plates in the sink, which you’ll wash after you make yourself dinner. You wonder what she’s eaten – you’d just bought two new steaks, but Nat likes a bowl of strawberry ice cream now and then.

The TV channel switches in the background. Nat snorts, and you peek around the wall to catch a report on the gruesome series of murders that have been happening lately. People in the neighbourhood hardly went out anymore, too afraid of the dark now. It would scare you too if you weren’t well aware you’d never fall victim. Nat was with you, after all, and you were with her. 

You would be with her for as long as she’d let you. So, what if she was the monster in the dark? So what? It was Nat. Your Nat. She came back to you, talked to you, fucked you. It’s not like she was disembowelling you in some grimy alleyway. She kept most of the violence away from you because she cared. Anyway, like everyone else, she had to eat. You couldn’t fault her for that. 

You’re pulling the gauze out of its packaging when Nat scoffs loudly at the news. They must’ve insulted her because she clicks the TV shut, practically inhales half her bottle and flings the remote onto the couch. 

Then, she sets her sights on you, meek behind the counter, and raises an eyebrow. “Honey, the hall’s a mess. Clean it up.” 

You frown. “You’re still hurt.” 

She rolls her eyes. “I’ll eat tomorrow, and it’ll be fine.” 

You don’t think so. The longer Nat doesn’t eat, the worse it gets. It’s how she’s in this mess in the first place. Nat’s ethereal after a feeding, next to omnipotent. But the guy she picked to eat last week turned out to be some sort of track star because he had booked it at the first sign of trouble, and she’d been forced to retreat when the sirens started blaring. The day after that, she picked a local thug as her next meal, and she’d been caught off guard by the switchblade. So, here she is: slumped on your couch and stitched up sloppily. 

Her hair is limp, skin wane and dry, and in a bad enough mood that you can basically feel it every time you’re within a two-meter radius of her. 

Her physical weakness emboldens you a little, makes you think you can get away with a bit of stubbornness. You pick up the gauze and tape and round the corner. A car speeds by, high beam making Nat’s eyes glint a deep green in the dark. The green follows you the whole way until she has to crane her head around to watch you slip her tank top off a shoulder. 

Those eyes weren’t like that before when you first started dating. You don’t mind the changes, though. Aside from the cannibalism, Nat is mostly the same. Still ridiculously strong and stupidly hardheaded. 

“You don’t want to listen?” she asks, almost conversationally. 

You know better. You clench and unclench your fist. Shakily, you lift it and tuck a hair behind Nat’s ear, hoping foolishly that it will placate her. 

“Baby,” says she, like a gentle mother to a misbehaving child, “you should really listen.” 

You trace the bumps of her stitches, staring hard at her shoulder so you won’t have to see that face — flinty, cold, mean. Nat’s always been mean. 

“At least answer me.” 

“No, Nat,” you mutter, undoing the bandages on her bicep. “I don’t want to listen.”

To her credit, she lets you fix her up. Methodically, silently, you clean her wounds and rewrap them in new bandages. She doesn’t get in the way unless it’s to take a swig of her drink. 

When you’re done with her arms and back, you move to her front. She’s got an ugly gash on her calf, bruised midway from where the man had kicked her bleeding leg. You imagine this is causing her the most pain, not just physically. Nat’s not great with sitting still. She’s independent to a fault, enjoying control to the point that it’s probably some sort of diagnosable complex, and this restriction on her mobility has her restless and irritated. 

Looking down at her, at the space between her knees, you wonder if she’ll cooperate with you. The last time you tried to clean her leg, she’d torn your duvet in half and has since refused to let you look at it. But Nat tilts her head, coy, and gestures toward the space in front of her with her bottle. 

“Scared?” she whispers.

You glance at her face just in time to catch her tongue tracing the jagged end of a canine. Mutely, you shake your head. She smiles wide.

“Liar.”

Of course. You’re always scared of her. For her, too. But you don’t think it matters; it doesn’t change anything. You just want to help her, be good for her. Anyway, she’s trying to get a reaction out of you. You refuse to take the bait, raising your eyebrows and wiggling the bandages in your hand.

“Fine.” With a roll of her eyes, she parts her legs. 

As if dealing with a feral animal, you move slowly, cautiously, afraid to make sudden movements lest she starts getting violent. You squat down and reach for the cuff of her sweatpants. 

“Ah, ah.” She slides the leg back, staring down her nose at you. You pause. “Kneel, baby.” 

Her eyes — did the ring of green get thinner? Your lips part, anticipation beginning to seep into your body, and you comply. Once you’re settled, looking up at her, she makes that same careless gesture with her bottle. A go-ahead. 

As you work, she shifts to put her beer on the table and then combs a hand into your hair. You tense, eyeing her nervously, but she only watches you, imperious, intense, and remains silent. Nevertheless, you pick up the pace, tossing the antiseptic aside and winding the gauze around her pale calf. 

She’s startlingly warm under your hands. Ever since… whatever happened to her — she wasn’t exactly forthcoming with the details — she’s run hotter than ever. You can’t sleep under a blanket with her anymore unless you’re shirtless; the heat would be unbearable. Not that Nat has any complaints about that. 

“All done,” you murmur. 

The lack of reaction from Nat gives you the courage to lean forward and press a sweet kiss to the top of her knee. The hand in your hair rewards you with a gentle scratch, and you can’t help melting into a smile. She’s still got that air of arrogance about her when you look up at her, but she’s not glaring. Which is why it comes entirely as a surprise when she clenches a fistful of hair in her hand, yanking your head back, and slaps you clean across the face with her other hand. 

You take the full brunt of her palm with a cry, almost toppling over were it not for the grip on your hair. Your cheek burns, and so does your eyes. Mostly from pain, partly from the shock of it, maybe a little from shame when you realize you’re getting wet from the rough treatment. 

Nat tuts. “Crying already?” 

You imagine you look pretty pathetic on your knees for her, eyes glassy.

“Don’t give me those eyes, baby; you know I can’t help myself.” 

“I just wanted to help.” 

“I know,” Nat says gently, tipping your head back again so you can see the false sincerity on her face. “You can fix this, you know?” 

Your eyebrows furrow, thoughts racing a mile a minute to puzzle out what she means. 

“Don’t think so hard. You’ll hurt yourself. I’ll show you how, dumb baby,” she coos as she nudges your chin with the knuckle of her finger, and you can’t help flushing deeply at that. Then, she offers a hand, and you take it, and she tugs you up into a straddle on her lap. “Come here.” 

You instinctively wind your arms around her neck, clinging on. Beneath you, she tenses and lets out a low rumbling sound that resonates deep in her chest. You inhale sharply. 

Teeth. Sharpened to deadly points. Poised over your neck. Nat’s breath comes short and hot against your skin, and her tongue, when it peeks out, drags wetly across your skin. 

This has happened once before; the first night she’d come back changed. Like before, she noses at your flushed skin, teasing you with the possibility of damage, and trails her teeth down to your traps. Back then, she hadn’t bitten you. She won’t now, you think, you hope. 

She sighs again, hovering over the meat of your shoulder and prodding her teeth against you. Doesn’t break the skin. 

“Don’t make it worse for yourself. Are you scared?” 

This time, you nod. Nat’s lips curve into a smile, and her hold on your thighs tighten enough to bruise. 

“You should listen, sweetheart,” she says against you. The front of her teeth scrapes over you when she speaks, leaving red marks behind. “I hurt you less when you’re good. Don’t you know?”

“How can you be in the mood?” you wonder, burying your face into the crook of her neck. “You’re half dead.”

“Barely.”

It would take a lot more to kill Nat like this. Anyway, how could you be in the mood when your girlfriend’s cut up like this? 

Nat stands abruptly, ignorant to your yelps and complaints, and dumps you back onto the couch in quick succession. Before you can even register what’s happened, she’s yanked your bottoms down to your ankles and has climbed between your legs. 

Even after that, you don’t get the chance to speak. She wraps her hand around your throat and pins you to the cushions. You grab onto her wrist.

Her body bears down, and you break into a sweat, in small part due to nerves, some part because she’s shoving her hand up your shirt to grab roughly at your bra, but mostly because she’s near scalding. You’re convinced her blood runs at a constant boil now. You’ve grown to love the heat, though. With her, pleasure comes white-hot, and you’d want it no other way. 

“Nat-”

“No,” she growls, and you get an eyeful of her monstrous teeth. She flexes both hands, cutting off your airway and squeezing your breast painfully. You whimper, wound tight as a coil. “Listen to me, baby.”

You look at her through hazy eyes. 

“Those eyes again. God, I love you like this.” Foolishly, your heart clenches at those words. She rucks your shirt up and claws her nails down your front. Beads of blood bloom from the thin scratches she leaves behind. “You’re beautiful when I hurt you.”

Her hand nearly crushes your throat closed, but then she releases you, and you suck air in desperately. Your hands, shaken off her arm, reach for the sides of her head. “Nat,” you croak, tasting the salt from your tears on your lips. “Nat.”

She shakes her head, descending on your chest. It hurts – badly. “Be good for mommy.”

“Mommy,” you gasp out, arching into her mouth. She ignores your pert nipples, electing instead to lick and suck at the burn between your breasts. “Please, please.”

“Shut up,” she hisses. Oh, her teeth are still out. “Hands above your head.”

You obey, another sad sound crawling out of your abused throat. 

The dark pits of her eyes drink in the sight of you, face crumpled in pain and need. A thumb wipes up the last of your blood, and she delights in smearing it across your cheek. 

“Messy baby, clean up after yourself. It’s basic,” she chides, thumb still rubbing at your face as if she were fixing up some runny mascara. “Be good now.”

You don’t dare to speak, just nod and look pleadingly up at her. Your core aches from neglect. 

She makes quick work of that, reaching down to feel the slick between your thighs. Humming, she smirks and very deliberately rubs her middle finger over your clit. You jerk up into her, mouth falling open even as you strangle your moan. 

“I could do anything to you, and you’d still want me.” 

Again, you nod. 

“Where did my little liar go?” she baits. You shake your head. “Say ‘thank you, mommy, for letting me breathe.’”

It takes you a moment to gather the brain cells and say: “Thank you, mommy.”

Her smile widens, teeth back to normal. “Again, for the lesson.”

“Thank you, mommy.”

She brings her hand down on your cunt, full strength. You scream, jolting away from her. Well, you would have if she hadn’t pressed you down by the chest, entirely uncaring about the wound she’d left there. Tears leak out the sides of your eyes, trickling into your hairline. 

“Thank me for that too,” she demands.

“Thank you,” you cry around a hiccup. 

One more spank, and another, and another. Your legs kick uselessly against the cushions, body twisting after every awful smack.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Your hole clenches around nothing, slick leaking onto the couch. Then, two fingers dip into you, and Nat thrusts them up hard and fast. She’d shoved them in on a contraction, and it hurts for a second before she’s curling her fingers into the velvet of your walls. 

She makes a pleased sound. “Tight as always. Makes me want to tear you in half, baby.”

You stare up at the ceiling. “Th-” She starts up a fast pace, digging her fingertips into your front wall. “Thank you!”

Her cheek rests on your chest, listening to the thunder of your heart. “We should try that big one.” Impossibly, your heart rate quickens at the thought, and you manage to shake your head. She laughs, the sound sharp and cruel, and music to your ears. “Maybe another time then.”

She sits up then, still working her fingers into your cunt, and moves her other hand to your mons. She pets gently over your labia, a sharp contrast to the vicious pace she’s keeping up. Your head spins. 

“My baby,” she breathes, “good enough to fucking eat.”

But she parts your folds to press her fingers into your clit, circling them once, twice, thrice, and you’re so close. So desperately close. 

She leans down, near delicate in her movements, and licks into your mouth. You taste copper and beer and the faintest sweetness. Urgently, you try to kiss back. 

If she’s mean, she’d pull back and deny you the chance to come with her mouth on yours. 

She must think that you’ve suffered enough, though, because she rubs her thumb at your clit and drives her fingers deeper into you, and you push up as far as you can into her body with a scream. You’re swallowed in molten heat, pleasure stripping away at you until you’re just bones on the couch. 

When you come to, Nat’s pulling out some bandages for your chest. You’re too tired to do or say anything, forced into silence by her dominance. 

She smiles at you, still not kind, but it doesn’t look bestial like before. Maybe just self-satisfied. She strokes your sweaty hair as she fixes you up, shushing you if you moan quietly from aftershocks or pain. You are in a lot of pain, bruised and scratched up as you are.

“Good girl,” she says when she’s done. 

Finally, you muster the energy to grab her hand and say, “Thank you.”

She lets you hold on for a few seconds before pulling away. “Sure.”

You wish she’d hold you for a bit, but you don’t vocalize it. She’s been through too much in the last few days; you shouldn’t burden her—

“Don’t be fucking needy,” she says, suddenly and harshly. Your face must have given you away. 

“I don’t mean to be,” you mutter, bringing your arm up to cover your eyes. Feeling stupid, feeling mad that you feel stupid, you say: “It would just be nice if you’d stay for a bit.”

A hand grabs your arm, yanking it away from your head, and you’re treated to a view of her scowl. “Where would I go?”

You didn’t mean it that way, but you don’t know how to get out of this hole you’ve dug yourself. “I-I don’t know.”

Out of nowhere, her hand slaps your cunt again, overstimulated, sore, puffy. You groan, curling in on yourself and hugging your knees to your chest. 

“Fuck, Nat.”

She takes the opportunity to sit down on the end of the couch, where your legs once were. The TV turns back on, and you hear her take a sip from her can of beer. “Clean up the hall later.”

At least she stayed.

[janshu]

Inu!Bakugo...for @ultimate-astridwriting's Hybrid collab!

Summary: My part of the hybrid collab. I had so much fun writing an angry Pomeranian Bakugo. 10/10 would do again. I'm not completely happy with it but who ever is? I'm still proud of myself!

Word count: 2.2k.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Bakugo being an ass, sexual content, somnophilia, collars, choking, humping, creampie, name calling (bitch, slut, whore etc.), use of the word cunt.

You sigh as you rummage around in your pocket to produce the key to your home. After a long day's work all you want to do is get some dinner, take a bath and go to bed but none of those things would be possible would they?

No, not after the spur of the moment decision to adopt a hybrid of all things. The week earlier was one of torrential downpours and near freezing temperatures, the roads making a slushy substance of half-melted ice and salt to prevent the very thing it was being mixed in with. People stayed indoors the best they could when they weren't at work but life had to shit on you and make your car breakdown in the parking garage. Umbrella rested on your shoulder, rain boots on your feet with your spare in your bag and you trudged through cold, mushy hell back home. The streets were barren as a Walmart on a weekday at 4am, no life passing by you until you crossed an alley between two businesses. A pathetic whimper had caught your attention and your gaze drifted down to a soaked cardboard box. What was in that box you weren't sure if you should curse or love. A hybrid.

Narrow red eyes stared at you in suspicion, fangs bared at you but the creature didn't make any attempts to nip at your fingers when they neared to ruffle the spikey head of hair. The hybrid had leaned into your touch before recoiling away as if you had smacked him. The black and orange collar had seen better days, the charm that dangled on the hollow of his neck read "Dynamite" but he didn't give any indication that was his name when you repeated it outloud. He was barely dressed in anything, a thin t-shirt, shorts with ragged Converse that had more holes than Swiss cheese. Truthfully he looked a few days away from starvation and how could you keep that on your conscience if you left him there? After laying your warm coat over his shoulders you somehow, someway, managed to get him back to your place. Everything went downhill from there in the blink of an eye.

The weak puppy persona was gone the moment warm food settled in his belly and within the hour he acted as if you had crowned him king of the house. Beginning his rambles of curses, demands and biting at your fingers. The worst of it happened when you tried to take his collar off for a new one, one that wasn't frayed and barely hanging on. "Katsuki" as he spat out his name with enough venom to put a Black Mamba to shame had flipped over a coffee table, ripped up every couch cushion and went so far to chew on the linoleum on the kitchen floor.

No doubt you'd be greeted with the same sight as always. Messy, dirty, unknown stains everywhere and dishes still in the sink waiting to be moved to the washer. Maybe if he wasn't such a loud ass you could train him but your frazzled nerves were at their wits end. You didn't know what to do, you were about to throw in the towel and put him up for adoption. Yep, you were disappointed to be proven right. Katsuki reclining on the couch lengthwise, remote in his hand with the most bored expression on his face while idly flipping through channels.

"Fucking finally, you're home! I've been waitin' for fucking hours for your ass to get back! I'm hungry, get your shitty ass in the kitchen and make dinner." He barked. Barely giving you any time to hang up your coat and slip off your shoes before his orders began.

"Katsuki...I can't, not tonight." Could your voice portray anymore pleading? Apparently not because he didn't seem to notice, or care.

The fluffy ear at the top of his head only flicked in response, the top lip curling into his signature snarl. "Then what the fuck are you good for? Get your fucking ass in that god damn kitchen and fucking make dinner already."

All that you were good for? All that you were good for? How dare he! He's been freeloading off you for a week now without so much as a thanks for saving him from the streets, feeding him, clothing him, keeping him warm and dealing with his bullshit and this is how he repays you?

"I've fucking had it with you!" Your voice rose higher than you meant to but at this point you didn't care, a line had been crossed. "You fucking sit there and ruin my shit and yet I'm the useless one? I have half a mind to kick you out! You can make your own fucking dinner, I've had it! I'm done! I can't take this anymore!"

Despite not having any clunky shoes on your feet still managed to resonate in the small living room while you stormed past the couch. You had expected anything, anything at all. A slap, a punch, a groan, literally anything but you were met with only silence and that somehow pissed out off even more. How could silence be so infuriating?! You didn't even notice the terror that washed over his face as you screamed at him or the way his chest heaved with the sob or how he trembled underneath your wrathful gaze as you walked away. The bedroom door slamming made short work of that.

"Fuck I'm such an ass.." You mused to yourself already regretting blowing up at him but what would an apology do that wasn't already broken? So better yet why not send yourself to bed without dinner as some kind of punishment? He'd linger at the doorway to the kitchen, staring at you with those intense eyes if you made dinner anyways so why let him win? He could his own shit for fucks sake!

After a quick shower to dethaw your bones and warm up what was left of your dead soul the softness of your pajamas helped ease the guilt gnawing away like a puppy on its first bone. Laying in bed until sleep eventually overcame you and when he knew it was safe to slip in and sneak over towards your bedside.

Rustling was what woke you. The rustling of clothes and the jingle of something metallic in the darkness of the bedroom. Whatever grogginess you normally suffered when waking up was vanishing the more details were dissected and understood by your half-asleep brain, a process that took an embarrassingly long time. Clothes rustling, the bedsheets moving, heavy pants and something incredibly warm nudging up against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. Naturally your brain assumed the worst and your eyelids flew open to show nothing; at first. As your eyes adjusted to the pitch black room they found the blazing stare of those vermillion eyes, the bared fangs that belonged to your hybrid.

What the hell was Katsuki doing on top of you?

Noticing that you were awake the snarl turned into a smirk as he huffed, his large chest expanding with each desperate pant. Why did your folds feel so good just as you were waking up?

"Feel that?" How could you not? The feel of a scorching cock bumping up your folds and sensitive clit, wet from the pre leaking from the tip. There was so much of it from what you could feel, too sticky to be your own. His hips had yet to cease moving, no word from your shocked form to still his rutting hips.

"W-what the hell are you doing?" Was the most logical question your brain could come up with in the moment.

"Humping...fucking dumbass." His warm breath created goosebumps on your cool skin, his head must've been so close to yours by the hair tickling your forehead. "Tryin'ta...help ya. Shitty woman.."

"Help? How the fuck is this helping?"

"You've been working so hard so I thought maybe...a good fuck would calm ya down, relax ya." Katsuki's voice was so desperate, so needy, the humping of his cock on your labia increasing.

He was trying to help? He was going to fuck the frustration out of you? Is that was he was offering? Having sex with a hybrid was common enough to not be considered taboo but you couldn't help but feel he was trying to worm his way into your good graces. Unless your words had struck some kind of cord with him. "Okay, alright, I'll let you help."

"Fuck yeah!"

With that the head of his cock nudged against your cunt, already spread and waiting for him. How long had he been doing this for? The burn of the stretch was delicious, he was just big enough to fill you up but not hurt. Settling right up to kiss the tip of your cervix when he bottomed out. His hands grip at your thigh and hip, pulling his back to slam his cock right back into you. Over and over, over and over, over and over. Practically using you as a fleshlight to get himself off but damn if it didn't feel good, him bouncing you on his cock so roughly each thrust was sending the headboard against the wall.

"Oh fuck...oh fuck, Katsuki!" Your hands pat around and eventually find his biceps and you cling on for dear life, your nails digging crescent shaped markings into his skin.

"Yeah, yeah...you like this form of stress relief, don'tcha you dirty slut?" Undoing the collar around his neck the frayed cloth of the strap is tied around your neck, the buckle clamping down tightly to constrict your airflow while two fingers slip under it to pull and tug. "You're my dirty fucking slut! Mine...mine...mine...mine, fucking mine!"

Your fingers trailed down the tiny amount of space between your bodies down to the precious, neglected nub between your legs. Barely able to wiggle your index and middle finger down there from the rabid fucking you were receiving to circle the bundle of nerves and send yourself over the edge. Each clap of your thighs smacking against each other forcing your hate for his behavior ebbing away. If he was going to act like this all the time how could you kick him out?

"F-fuck! Gonna cum...fucking cum..cum for me. Cum with me!" Katsuki snarled as the pressure around your throat increased. Your hand was smacked away from your clit and was replaced with the large pad of his thumb, frantic circles sending your body into a writhing mess of flails and kicks.

The orgasm that had been steadily building from your ministrations had been ripped away and replaced with one quickly approaching to push you over the edge. The white hot pleasure-coil that formed underneath your belly button snapped and all of it coursed through your system in one go. Paralyzing your body for a split second as you squirted all over the hybrids cock, his still rubbing hand sending the liquid everywhere. Coating his thighs, your thighs and the bed underneath you.

"Fucking fuck! Such a whore, such a dirty girl for me! Oh my fucking g-god!" One last slam of his hips and his own body stilled, burying his cock deep inside your cunt to shoot his cum deep in your womb. He stuttered before his body collapsed on top of you, suffocating you in his sweaty muscles.

Bathing in the afterglow, coming down from your high you could've sworn you heard something. Mumbling, soft mumbling too indistinct to understand. Katsuki's head laying on your shoulder, his nose brushing along your collarbone and was he laying kisses here and there? No, you must've been seeing things. Still buried to the hilt he turned his head to speak, his fluffy ears perked and his tail gently swishing behind him. The sudden light from your phone illuminated the room, casting light on Katsuki's face and the sight made your breath hitch in your throat. Clearly he had been crying. Tear stains streaked down his cheeks, brows knitted together and the same lost look he had plastered on his face appeared again.

"Please, please don't kick me out. I'll do anything, please...please don't abandon me. Not again." His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer as he hid his face in your neck. Voice breaking, shoulders trembling, the verge of crying all over again quickly approaching.

Your heart broke and you returned the favor by hugging him around the shoulders, a hand carding through his hair to soothe him. Had he been abandoned? Did his previous owners not like him? Was all his aggressiveness some kind of defense mechanism? Was he giving you a reason to kick him out to keep himself from experiencing that kind of pain again? Oh, poor baby. "Never again...just don't destroy things anymore, okay? Help me around the place a little more will ya?"

"Yes." Katsuki snuggled on top of you. Finally believing he had a real home with you, a place where he could belong. "....Master."

[kpop-dungeon-dark]

The Experiment. (Dom!Sehun x You)

•TRIGGER WARNING•

Warning(s): Con-Noncon (you consent to the act for the sake of play), dacryphilia, choking, anal, hair pulling, bondage, fear kink, gagging, slapping, pretend hate sex, puppy kink, orgasm denial, degradation and humiliation. Browse at your own risk.

Y/n gulped as she walked hand-in-hand with her older, much bigger boyfriend and dom, Sehun. A couple of 7 months now, they had soon realised after a few weeks of going out that both of them liked things on the… rougher side.

Today, they were going to try… something, after very careful planning and discussion.

Sehun knew he had to be the responsible one in the relationship always. And so during experiments as well as 'serious' things he didn't play around or let Y/n shy away, sitting her down and planning everything out.

He didn't ever want to hurt her. Not even accidentally.

The couple came to a halt when they reached the trailer placed in the middle of the jungle, Sehun turning to the girl and pushing her closer by the back of her neck before touching his lips to her forehead.

"I love you."

"I love you too… sir." A timid whisper followed the manly voice, her legs in a complete contrast to her scared voice, thighs squeezing against one another to ease the tension between them.

Oh. Her panties were already soaked.

"You know your safe words, pup." The key turned in the lock and Sehun was in character by the time the door to the trailer slowly opened inwards, his grip hardening on the back of her neck as he roughly hauled her in, stepping inside before hitting the lights as she started to whine and struggle.

"Get in here you little whore!" He was amazed by how fast her tears busted out, as if on cue. "Pathetic! Thinking you can fight against your owner! What a bad dog!" Y/n loved the insults as well as the rough grip he had on her hair, moving her before going to close the door. "You, little pup, need lots of training-!"

The man's words were cut short when she grabbed a vase that had been put intentionally there before hitting his arm hard enough with it that his grip on her loosened, aiding the girl in slipping away through the still ajar door.

"I WILL NEVER SLEEP WITH A SICK AND DIRTY MAN LIKE YOU!" The girl shrieked, her bad acting looking like one out of those porn videos as she rushed away from him, Sehun following soon after grunting and cussing. "HELP! SOMEBODY HELP!"

They knew nobody would come as no one could hear them. This was in the middle of nowhere. They knew it. They had planned it. For weeks.

But something about blindly running in the dark followed by a man so strong and of Sehun's kind, made adrenaline rush through Y/n's veins, her core just getting needier and needier. It was a chilly night. But the fire glowing hotter and hotter deep within her ovaries was providing her enough warm to keep running as tears blurred her vision.

This felt so real. So dangerous. So vicious. Cruel. Terrifying, even.

And she loved it.

The thoughts of what was going to follow this made her knees weak, causing them to buckle up as she went tumbling down against the dead leaves, making her groan as she landed on her chest, wanting to be pounded from behind right there.

"Oh no! Oh no!" She cried harder, sounding more aroused with each word, trying to 'weakly' crawl away as Sehun approached her from behind, clicking his tongue which made her struggle harder. "OH NO SOMEONE HELP ME PLEASE!"

"Absolutely pathetic" clicking his tongue, the man effortlessly grabbed her ankle, dragging her against the leaves as she squawked and drooled humiliatingly, trying to 'break free' from her 'captor' as he dragged her back to the trailer. "You could have at least tried to run away, tsk. But you're really eager, huh?" The man didn't know if he was in character or speaking in general.

Because his slut of a cumsock was always ready to be fucked by him.

In the most vile of ways.

"OH NO! LEAVE ME! LEAVE ME YOU VILE DIRTY MAN!" Her heart was thumping in her ears as she struggled to act, going a little wordless from the excitement of what was to come, almost stopping completely when he threw her over his shoulder and entered the trailer before locking it shut and walking to the bed, throwing her on it. "OH GOD! OH PLEASE NO!"

"Hold still!" Slapping one of her breasts harshly, Sehun felt himself slipping deeper into his dominant headspace, in which he wasn't so tolerable to any sort of fussing, tearing her skimpy little outfit off. "Sure you want me to let you go huh slut?" Now hitting her cheek, the male said in a stern voice.

"Because from the hooker shit you wear it appears you want anything with a cock real or fake to fuck all of your pathetic little nasty holes" when she started to cry harder and thrash around, the man grunted and pulled-tore her panties off, taking a quick sniff before pushing them in her mouth, the girl's sensitive tongue picking up the salty taste almost instantly.

"Disgusting little whore lying to my face!" Grabbing a handful of hair from the back of her head, the man pulled her head back to have her look up at him before he slapped her again. "When you are practically dripping! Such a nasty little dog I have here!" Another slap on the same cheek before he let go of her hair and slapped her other cheek with his now free hand, pinching and pulling at her now reddening, tear stained cheeks.

Y/n's struggling died down a bit as her pussy pulsated harder, ovaries feeling like they were flipping in satisfaction from the cruel slaps, pupils dilating.

Sehun chuckled as his thumb grazed over her wet lips, own tongue running over his as he stepped on her feet to restrict movement. He loved to make a mess of that pretty face, inserting his thumbs in either sides of her mouth now before pulling at them, index fingers pushing her top lip out of the way to humiliatingly reveal her teeth and gums like she was some lab rat.

"You've been a bad little dog for Master, pup. And you know what happens to bad little dogs?" He stretched her mouth even more, eyes cold as ice as he felt his stiff cock harden now. "Such a pretty sleeve for Master's cock." He whispered under his breath, admiring her stretched open mouth.

Before her lust clouded mind could even decipher what was happening, Sehun had already pulled her over the bed, placing her face first against the mattress before hurriedly locking her hands in place against the headboard with handcuffs he had pulled out of his pockets, lips brushing the shell of the girl's ear as his breath fanned her skin.

"They are taught a lesson they will remember for a lifetime."

A shiver ran down her spine as she shuddered, crying even harder and loving the intensity of it all. He could be so sweet and kind but also so cold and rough. So contrasting but so good.

"Hnnngg~" she couldn't help but grind her ass against his abdomen as the man was hurriedly stripping himself of his clothes, making him chuckle as he slapped her mildly bruised ass, causing the smaller body to jump in defense.

"You sure you don't want this?" Pumping his cock, Sehun grinned as he rubbed his length before Y/n's ass cheeks, landing a slap on one before squeezing it hard and pulling at it, pushing it away from the other one. "Because it looks like you do~" a surrendered nod came from the girl, causing him to chuckle.

It was no news that the girl wasn't much of a fighter against him, always melting into her Master's control.

But now was the time of the promised surprise Sehun had told her of. The twist.

Fishing the bottle of lube out of the pocket of his discarded jacket, the male easily opened it with one hand and squeezed it hard, aiming for the tiny little fairly unused hole that would always have her thrash and whine if touched.

And it always made Sehun go for it even more.

A loud muffled whine erupted from the girl as realisation dawned upon her. Fuck. He was about to give her some good old anal that always had her penguin walking for days.

Oh no!

Y/n wanted- needed stimulation in her aching pussy and she needed it now!

Sehun, on the other hand was enjoying the now genuine struggle, humming to himself a devilishly sweet tone whilst dripping thick drops of the liquid on his cock now, the thick tip already pushing against the tiny hole now.

Readying it for the deal was one thing, but forcing it to open as it desperately tried to reject his cock and push it out was on a whole different level.

"It never manages to amuse me how you think fucktoys like you have a choice against-" biting his lip, Sehun enjoyed the feeling of her warm and tight ring of muscles encased his fat tip, hands carelessly discarding the almost empty lube. "-their… fuck-" The male grunted as he struggled to fit his impressively huge cock up her tiny ass, both hands squeezing her bruising ass before separating the cheeks to help it open up, hips slowly pushing deeper and deeper as Y/n's mouth formed an 'O', fresh tears escaping her eyes as her whole felt as though it were on fire.

But hell…

It burnt so good.

He always made it hurt so good.

"... against their Masters" Sehun was panting by the time he was able to finish his sentence, halting midway before pulling outwards to drill the entry a bit wider before moving his whole cock in, the upper half of Y/n's body going limp against the bed as she whimpered and moaned to the pain, the lower half raised in the air as it was being thoroughly invaded.

"Fuck! Such a tight little dog!" The male grunted as he felt his hips slowly easing up because of the ring of muscles slowly getting used to his cock, not many loud sounds coming from the girl.

"Come here!" Grabbing her neck, Sehun made her sit up straighter on her knees, causing her ass to slide back on his cock as she whined loudly, drool dripping down her chin as her eyes rolled to the back of her head, making Sehun thrust harder as he watched her from the mirror he had installed right above the headboard to watch her in such positions, other hand squeezing and pinching her sensitive and hard nipples.

"Look at yourself, little pup. Look up!" Pulling at her hair from behind until she was looking at him through the mirror with her lust clouded and tear filled eyes, Sehun sped up mercilessly faster, trying to fit his big balls in the hole too. "This is what you are, just a pathetic little cocksock. This is what delusional little fucktoys like yourself-" slapping one of her cheeks he humiliating pushed her nose back, making her blush even harder in embarrassment.

"-get for thinking they can whine about things. Tch. You should be grateful for whatever I give you. Such a bratty pet I have." Her eyebrows were furrowed in pain and concentration as she felt her tits fly back and forth humiliatingly fast due to the powerful thrysts, this sight alone enough to make her cum.

This mirror was such an embarrassment.

Sehun's body draped over Y/n's back as he chased his orgasm, placing his lips against her neck after pushing her hair out of the way, kissing and licking at the skin before sucking at it, one hand choking it and cutting her air supply as the other one trailed down south.

"Tell me when you're close by nodding." Was a much gentle and soft sound as compared to the loud sound of flesh slapping against flesh as his fingers creeped down and between the girl's wet and squishy pussy lips, making her close close in sweet pleasure.

Oh, good heavens. Finally.

What the poor girl found out soon after was that whenever she'd near her orgasm and nod hazily to let him know, Sehun would devilishly grin in the mirror and stop right away, waiting until the build up was gone before starting the torture all over again, an expert at holding back his own.

Why? Just because he simply could.

It was only a good while after that he painted her walls white with his seed and allowed her to cum, removing the torn underwear from her mouth to have relieved sobs tumble out as the girl collapsed against the bed, going limp as the male slowly eased her out of her restraints, gently rubbing them with the pads of his thumbs while whispering sweet nothings in her ear.

.

[sweeterthanthis]

Just Desserts

Request - ‘Headcanon for kinktober’s office bucky (cause I’m kinda obsessed with him? Love dominant men)’

@asianrockgoddess​ may your panties be forever ruined, ILY.

Okay so you encouraged me to go for it, and well, I did…I hope you love it! I couldn’t just do a headcanon for this one, because my filthy hoe brain just went to town! Thank you to @ozarkthedog​ for brainstorming this one with me. You’re awesome, and I don’t deserve you. 

This is the same Bucky x Reader as the ones from Cockwarming & Spanking from Kinktober 2020. The banner is mine, please don’t steal or edit it :)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, dark-ish depending how you look at it,  heavy daddy kink, throat fucking, throat pie, cum play, a little spit play, domestic submission, domestic degradation, kneeling, Chauvinistic!Bucky, use of pet names ‘princess’ & ‘babygirl’, explicit language.

Word Count: 1.5k+

It wasn’t unusual for Bucky to be late, yet your nerves always set you on edge when he was. The scent of fillet steak permeated through the air, his favourite.

He was particular, Bucky. He knew how he liked things to be done, and he expected you to live up to his expectations without question.

All of them.

With the grill on a low heat, you set to pouring his whiskey over ice, setting it down on the dining table and straightening out the silverware.

The low rumble of a Mustang engine echoed through the air, your fingers instantly smoothing out the fabric of your apron. Checking your lipstick in the glare of the microwave door, you tottered into the hallway ready to greet your man.

The sight of him never failed to knock the air from your lungs, his perfectly tailored suit clinging to all the right places, that five o clock shadow adoring his jaw, and those damn sunglasses. He made you weak at the knees, every damn time.

Locking the door behind him, he dropped his black leather briefcase to the floor and inhaled deeply through his nostrils.

“Fillet steak again? You’re too good to me, doll. Give daddy a kiss.”

He didn’t need to ask you twice, your heels clicking against the hard wood floor as you wrapped your arms around his neck, your lips pressed against his lush, plump mouth.

You couldn’t help but keen pathetically when he gripped your ass with his palms, squeezing roughly and hitching your cotton dress up your thighs. The smell of his cologne sent you dizzy, your brain fogged within seconds of him walking through the door.

Bucky pulled away then, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead and patting you on the behind. “Come on, doll. I am fucking starving.”

“Of course. I made you a drink, make yourself comfortable and I’ll bring your dinner over.”

With a sweet peck on the cheek, you turned on your heel, making your way back to the kitchen and pulling the steak out from underneath the grill; smoke billowing in your face, your skin dewy and flushed.

Plating up his meal, leaving yours in the oven to warm for later, you served it to him, watching with contentment as he licked his lips and took another sip of whiskey.

“This looks incredible princess. Come sit with daddy, just like I taught you.”

Reaching behind you, you pulled the string on your apron, neatly folding it and setting it down on the kitchen counter.

You set yourself by his side, one hand on the table as you lowered yourself to your knees. He watched you with a smirk as you settled — back straight, thighs together and hands folded in your lap delicately.

Some people would say you were a fool, that he was simply an asshole who got a kick out of controlling you. And maybe he did. But the truth was simple. You got a kick out of it too.

There was something about dedicating yourself, body and mind, to Bucky that made you feel powerful. Powerful because you’d made the choice to do so. Nobody had forced you. He certainly hadn’t.

It was freeing, handing over full control to someone else after years of hard independence. You’d never felt so secure, so loved, so well taken care of.

You’d do anything for him, and you were certain that he’d do anything for you.

You sat quietly as he ate, listening to him as he told you about his day, making a joke about Steve trying to hook up with the new intern at the office.

Your lips twitched up in amusement at the thought of it. Steve was anything if not relentless. The poor girl had no chance.

Your knees were numb, hands still placed neatly on your lap, and eyes down. Just the way he liked it. Cutlery clattered against bone china, his legs stretching out next to you and a contented sigh escaping his lips.

A soft smile adorned your mouth, pride swelling in your chest at the thought of satisfying him. He slurped at the remainder of his whiskey, ice tinkling against the crystal tumbler as he set it down on the mahogany dining table.

“C’mon babygirl, daddy’s in the mood for dessert.”

You curled your palm around his outstretched hand, rising up from your feet gracefully, your knees joints popping as you stretched them out.

Clearing the table, you heard the heel of his black leather shoe tapping against the hard wood floor – a sign that he was growing impatient. Fumbling to remove and fold the tablecloth, you took your bottom lip between your teeth, his ice-cold stare burning through you with each fold.

Standing before him, your fingers clasped across your stomach, you waited. You could already feel the heat pooling between your thighs as he eyed you from your head to your toes, his eyes twinkling with deviance.

“You know how I take my dessert, doll.” With a flick of his head, he motioned to the table in front of him, pushing his chair back and spreading his muscular thighs; his large hands splayed out against his suit trousers. “Come on now, princess.”

Slipping your heels off your feet, the cool floorboards chilling your skin, you made your way over to him, settling between his thighs and hopping back onto the table behind you.

Bucky’s hands landed on your shins, splayed our palms gliding up over your knees and pushing your thighs apart slowly. You watched as his tongue swept across his bottom lip, eyes aflame with lust when he spied your bare cunt, already glistening with want. It had been his newest house rule after you’d dared to turn up at his office without wearing any underwear -- no panties in the house.

“Good girl.” He praised, knuckles grazing against your clit just so, the sensation causing your knees to tremble. “If dessert’s as good as dinner, I’ll bury my face in that sweet little cunt. Would you like that, princess?”

“Yes, daddy.” You breathed, perspiration rising on the nape of your neck from anticipation, his touch ghosting your inner thigh. 

“You know what to do.”  

Tucking your knees up to your chest, palms flat against mahogany wood, you twisted your body round, back to him as you shuffled down the dining table. Laying flat against the wood, your shoulders level with the edge, you let your head fall back a little.

Bucky was standing, his impossibly thick cock bobbing in the air inches from your face. You could feel the blood rushing to your brain already, letting your head hang loosely off the table just like he’d taught you.

“Open that pretty mouth for daddy, doll.”

Your lips parted as if he had a direct line to your brain. He shrugged his jacket off his shoulders, tossing it to the side and letting his trousers fall around his knees.

The sight of his head seeping with pre cum had you licking your bottom lip, your tongue flattening against your chin just the way he liked.

“Well aren’t you turning into a good little cockslut, huh?”

Bucky brushed his thumb against your cheekbone, a proud smile etched upon his lips as you nuzzled your face into his palm, mouth wide open and waiting.

You watched as he wrapped his fist around the base of his cock, the sheer girth of him never failing to make your heart race just that little bit faster. Resting his free hand beside your head, he leant forward, spitting in your mouth and pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose.

“Daddy loves you princess, but he’s about to fuck that throat like he doesn’t.”

Soft whimpers escaped from the corners of your mouth as he sank his cock into you, his velvet length gliding against your tongue and jabbing the back of your throat.

Your eyes watered as you fought against your gag reflex, throat muscles contracting around the crown of his cock, his hips jutting back and forth at a firm pace.

One hand pulled at your breast while the other curled around your throat, satisfied grunts rumbling in his throat when he felt the bulge of his cock against his palm.

“Goddamn, that’s fuckin’ beautiful.’ Obscene, sloppy sounds echoed through the air as he fucked your mouth, saliva falling down from your lips, coating your cheeks and nose. “Gonna make one hell of a mess, baby.”

He wasn’t lying, thrusting into your mouth so ruthlessly, you were certain there’d be bruises in the morning. You desperately tried to suck in a breath through your nose, your head pounding from the position, your head hanging backwards off the side of the dining table.

You could hold it in no longer, spluttering around his girth, the corners of your mouth aching from the stretch.

“Wrap those lips around my dick, doll. You know how daddy likes it.”

You did as he asked instantly, hollowing your cheeks and flicking your tongue against the tip of him each time he withdrew.

“Good fuckin’ girl, god that throat feels so good.’ Pride swelled in your chest, tears falling up over your forehead and into the hard wood floor below. “Such a perfect fuckdoll for me, hmm?’

You gasped for air when he pulled free of your mouth, his fingers gripping your hair and tugging your head up enough for the blood to disperse from your brain.

Bucky’s eyes were unusually dark, pupils blown wide and a hunger sparking in what was left of his iris’s.

For the first time since the start of his assault on your throat, you realised just how wet you were, your thighs coated in the slick of your own desire. You couldn’t help but clench them together, seeking some kind of friction to make the ache more bearable.

You cried out at the sharp stinging slap against your inner thigh, the shock of a it knocking the air from your lungs once again.

“I told you baby, you take care of daddy, and he’ll take care of you.” His cock slipped through your swollen lips, your jaw aching as he nudged himself further down your throat. “I’m gonna cum doll, and I want you to swallow every drop. You need your protein too.”

His balls pressed against your nose, cutting off your air flow completely while his cock stuffed your mouth to capacity. He rutted against your face like a wild animal. Filthy grunts and obscenities fell from his lips, your face a mess of spit and smeared make up.

“That’s it princess, here it comes.”

Reaching around, gripping his ass with your palms, you urged him further down your throat, hot ropes of cum trickling down, his hips snapping against your face and his legs trembling.

You coughed, albeit to no avail as he stilled, his cock pulsing in your aesophygus. Bucky shuddered when you tried to swallow it down, muscles tightening around him, the tip of him sensitive and swollen.

The salty tang of his seed soaked into your taste buds, a mixture of spit and cum connecting his cock to your throat when he pulled back.

“Show daddy the mess he made, princess.”

Your mascara was wrecked, lipstick staining your chin and your forehead slick with fluids. But you didn’t care. The proud smirk on his face as he took in the sight of you was more than worth the effort.

Opening your mouth, you did ask he asked, almost choking as you gargled his cum at the back of your throat obscenely -- warm bubbles vibrating against your uvula.

“That’s my girl” he cooed, affectionately patting your cheek. “Swallow.”

You did, wincing a little as the throbbing ache grew. Sitting forward, steadying yourself and waiting for the dizziness to quell, you watched him as he pulled up his trousers, rolling his head on his shoulders in satisfaction.

“I’ll take care of you soon enough princess, but first be a doll and get those dishes done.”

Buckling his belt back up, he swept up the empty whiskey glass in his palm and turned on his heel to walk away.

“Then you can come run daddy a bath, he’s had a hard day.”

[forever-rogue]

In Name Only - Part 18

A/N: Hello, my loves! I hope you enjoy this next little part of our story! As always, feedback and comments are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged, let me know. xx

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: language, period typical misogyny, description of violence, smut (18+ only)

IN NAME ONLY SERIES MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

The journey to Honeyholt was a solitary, quiet thing. It was almost too quiet and allotted for far too much time to think. The more you thought about it all, the more you realized how rash and impulsive your decision was. Oberyn would be furious; but he would understand, right? He had to - you were doing this to help avenge him. Admittedly, your plan wasn’t even fully formed at this point, half formed at best - all you knew was that you had to give your family a piece of your mind. You’d lived your whole life getting pushed around and left in the shadows, and you weren’t willing to do it any longer. Oberyn and the Martells - Dorne - were your family now, and you would be cold and in your own grave before you’d let something happen to them.

You weren’t exactly sure what you would do when you made your arrival back at your childhood home; that much you still had to figure out. Improvisation would have to be your friend, and you prayed to the gods, old and new, that you would be able to pull something off. Whatever that something was, you weren’t sure yet. But it would be something; the sins of your family would not go unpunished. 

“Unbowed, unbent, unbroken,” you whispered to yourself as you slowly approached Honeyholt. You offered your mare a few gentle pets as she slowed her trotting; she made a small sound almost as if trying to convince you that your actions were foolish. Too bad you’d already known that, “I know, girl. But I have to do something, anything. Oberyn would do the same for me. He will understand - if not now, eventually he will.”

The soft, sweet scents of the region soon reached you as you took in a breath of fresh air. All the best of your childhood suddenly reached you, and you realized just how much you truly loved the Reach, especially Honeyholt. It was a beautiful, lush land, covered with lots of greenery and flowers and animals. Almost magical in some ways; so different from your current home, but that did not take away from the beauty of Dorne either. Two places that managed to be amazing in their own ways, coexisting in peace. Just like you hoped your families would. 

But it was too late for that now. Your brother had made sure of that. 

“This is as much for him as it is for me,” you explained quietly, almost as if you hoped she would speak back to you. Maybe it was the tiredness or delusion from traveling for the past two days on horseback by yourself. Maybe it was the need for reassurance that your actions weren’t completely off the mark. Maybe it was you trying to convince yourself that what you were doing was justified, “I have to protect him at any cost.”

As you approached the castle, one that looked so welcoming and warming if one didn’t know better, your stomach started to churn. There had been so many years of happiness here, when your father was alive and lord of the place, but it had quickly turned so much darker once he passed and power transferred to your brother. Maybe it wasn’t the place itself that provided happiness, but the people in it that made it a home. That’s what it was - it wasn’t the castle or Honeyholt that was home, it had been your father, and the other kind people that had lived there. Just like Dorne - sure, it was home, but it was Oberyn and the rest of the family that made it warm and inviting. 

A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you heard soft, gentle buzzing in the distance. A tell-tale sign that you were in Honeyholt - the bees that the region was famous for were hard at work producing their delicious honey. You’d grown up with the sounds and smells, and in a way, it set your soul at ease. This was familiar - comfortable. 

Once the path narrowed and you were within walking distance from the castle, you slowly slid off your mare and took her reins in hand, letting her walk next to your side. After so much riding, your legs felt like jelly, and you almost stumbled over your own feet. Petting her muzzle, you offered her a kiss to the side of her head as she followed you closely behind. The familiar sounds of people working around the castle reached your ears as you walked towards the main entrance. But before you could go further, you heard a familiar voice calling your name. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you realized that any chance for a quiet entrance was officially ruined. As soon as one person was aware of your presence, word spread around like a wildfire. There was no hiding anything in this type of circumstance; your whole family would know you were here. 

Turning your around, your golden cape swirled behind you as you plastered on the best smile you could muster up. Sarvon approached you as he wiped off his hands on a rag he quickly tossed over his shoulder. A sense of regret ran through you; he was a few years older than you and had always been nothing kind - you’d always considered him a friend. He was handsome in a typical sense, tall and lanky, with a kind smile and fair hair and eyes, so different from what you were used to these days. 

“Well, well, well, look who came back to see us all,” he held out his hand to you, which you eagerly shook you. If it was possible at all, a bit of your nerves seemed to settle down, “Lady Martell. How are you doing?”

“Sarvon,” you smiled fondly at him, “I’m...well. How are you faring? You look well - I trust everything is much the same?”

“Just the same as ever,” he agreed with a small smile, “but there are some good news - I am to be married within the year! You remember Yennefer? I’ve been courting her and she’s agreed to be my wife!”

“That is most exciting indeed,” you threw your arms around him, feeling a true sense of happiness. He had always been kind and gentle, and he deserved the happiness of a new marriage, “she’s a lovely woman, and I’m sure she’ll make a most wonderful wife. Someone to finally keep you in check!” 

“That she will,” he agreed as a light flush rose up in his cheeks, “can I take her for and get her to the stables? What brings you back to Honeyholt, if I may ask?”

“Of course, and thank you,” you held out the reins to him, “I just...wanted to see my brothers, and my mother. I couldn’t stand being away from them for another moment.”

“I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you too,” he agreed, “it’s always a welcome surprise to see you. Dare I ask you if you come to bring us good news?”

“Oh,” your smile faltered for just a moment as you knew exactly what he was hinting at, “I’m afraid not. I suppose I just missed my family!”

“Of course,” he agreed, starting to lead your mare away, “I’ll announce your arrival. I believe Lord Beesbury is in his study.”

“Thank you, Sarvon,” you offered him a small nod, “you’ve been most helpful as always.”

Before he could say anything else, you turned and walked towards the entrance, walking in under the large stone arches. This was it; whatever plan you were going to concoct, you needed to come with it fast. 

A few more people excitedly greeted you, surprised by your very sudden and unannounced arrival. It was still early in the morning, and you were positive you were positive that you looked as disheveled and tired as you felt. Deciding not to indulge any of them in conversation, you gave them curt nods, marching through your former home towards the study that had once been your father’s sanctuary. Even as you approached it now, it felt different; more cold and uninviting than it ever had. What was once filled with light and laughter was now quiet and daunting.

But nonetheless, you steeled your resolve and reminded yourself that you were a strong, independent woman, and that this was what you needed to do. The dagger strapped to your thigh suddenly felt like it was made of ice rather than steel, a million pounds heavy as it weighed you down. 

When you reached the heavy doors, you didn’t even bother to knock or announce your presence, instead pushing them open and barging in. Your brother dropped the scrolls he was reading as he looked up in shock and awe at the sudden intrusion. His face seemed to shift through a hundred different emotions as he tried to figure out why you were possibly there. Eaton let out a long breath as he leaned back in his chair and a smirk grew on his face. You knew exactly why it was there; it was the same reason you were there. 

“My dear, lovely sister,” his voice was laced with venom as you walked up to his bureau, already seething with anger, “what a surprise, although I can’t say it’s a pleasant one. I’m shocked to see your face again...I believe the last thing you said to me was ‘if I ever see you again, it will be on your deathbed.’ And yet...here you are.”

“You know why I’m here,” you spat at him, “you vile, foul, loathsome little cockroach.”

“There’s that attitude that we all love so very much,” he laughed lightly, but there was no happiness to it, “and look at you know. I see you’ve taken to Dorne well, dressing and acting just like those savages. Sending you there was the best decision we’ve ever made.”

“You dare to speak of my home - my people - in such a manner?” your eyes narrowed as you shook your head at him. He would never change, “you have some nerve for a pathetic excuse of a man that won’t even tend to his people and remains in his study all day. You are worth nothing, you are a shame and a disgrace to our father - our name. At least my husband - “

“Your husband,” he spat as you felt your blood pump, “yes, your weak, pathetic fool of a husband. I had the pleasure of meeting him as you well know. He’s about what you deserve, old, foolish, a whore of a man that will never love you. I’m sure things are going quite well - he can’t even get you with child from the looks of it. What a shame; it seemed to work for all his bastards. Perhaps it’s just you. How absolutely tragic - just what you always deserved-”

“Stop speaking,” your anger and gusto had quickly turned to a feeling of deep remorse, muddled with anger, “y-you have no clue what you speak of. You know nothing-”

“I did try to do you a favor, baby sister,” his lips were curled in a snarl as his wicked grin displayed his full teeth, just like a predator ready to take down his prey, “I did try to kill him. And I would have done it too, if it hadn't been for his little right hand man. He had to stop me just before I could finish him off. You know, part of me was glad he survived; I figured he would die a more slow and painful death at your hand. Imagine my disappointment when I heard that Prince Oberyn, the savage beast of Dorne, survived.”

“He barely survived,” your eyes were burning with the tears you were struggling to hold back, ��he was on the verge of death - i-it took everything possible to keep alive, Eaton. I was never more scared...I thought I had lost him.”

“And you should have been happy.”

“I would rather die than to live a day without him,” you practically shouted at him, your voice crackling with each word, “he is my husband and I love him. He is everything to me!”

“Love? You are such a silly, pathetic little child,” his dark laughter reverberated off the stone walls, “you have learned nothing - you will never know anything. Life isn’t about love-”

“Yes,” you interrupted him, “love is everything. Father knew that too; it’s a shame you never learned that. I love Oberyn Martell, he is my husband, my family, my home. And I will never let you do anything to him, or any other part of my family.”

“They’re not your family-”

“They are more my family than you ever will be,” you insisted, “all Oberyn did was try to come here and make amends, to try to instill a sense of peace for everyone - for me. Because he loves me and cares about me. He held no ill intent for you, and still doesn’t - he wants to do nothing to you, despite what you had done to him. He just wants peace, and you couldn’t even give him that much.”

“You think he has your best interests in mind?” he scoffed, “he doesn’t care about you! He only wants to make himself look good. He will never love you - no one will ever love you!

"He loves me!"

"He doesn't love you!" you were both yelling at each other but by this point, "Waylar never did either. But look what you did to him, you caused his death and for what? Your feelings? And you almost did the same to your husband. You need to learn that love isn't a real thing and that in this game you survive and adapt or die."

"You are so hateful," you slowly reached for the dagger, ready to pull it out and wield it at him, "your heart has turned to stone. What a shame; we grew up with a lot of love from father but you never learned. I know it's real - not fake - and I will make sure everyone knows. I will make sure my husband knows how much I love him, my children, my family - everyone. I will never end up like you and I couldn't be more thankful than that."

"You will live and die a fool-"

"And you will die as a hateful, spiteful man," you pulled out the dagger and displayed it to him, watching as his eyes grew wide in worry. You had sneaked incredibly close to him and the dagger was mere inches from his throat. It would have been easy to end it all then and there, "you recognize this, don't you?"

"Where did you get that?" he swallowed and you could see his Adam's apple bobbing, "it belongs to me!"

“No,” you insisted with a wicked smile of your own, “it doesn’t. It’s mine, by rightful inheritance. Father gave it to me several years ago before he died.”

“It has belonged to every head of this family for centuries!”

“Until now,” you reminded him, letting the beautiful steel glint brilliantly in the morning light, “now it’s mine. And it stays with me - and I promise you one more thing, dear brother. This blade will be the last thing on your mind as I kill you.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” his eyes were wide with worry as you kept the blade drawn and ready to strike at any second as you walked around the desk and stood in front of him. Pressing the blade into his flesh, you dug it in just enough to draw a thick trickle of blood, “you’re making a grave mistake.”

“Oh no, I’m not,” you insisted, making your voice sticky sweet with honey, “I’m not making a mistake at all. It’s not so funny when it’s the other way around, is it Lord Beesbury? Imagine how it felt for Oberyn as you stabbed him, as you inflicted would be deadly wounds. Don’t you think he felt the same way? And what did he do to you? Nothing. He didn’t deserve any of this. But you? You deserve this because you have done horrible things, Eaton. You don’t deserve compassion or mercy.”

“When they find what you’ve done, they’ll have you too flayed like the Boltons would.”

“Oh no,” you shook your head, “I won’t be caught for this. And even if it was discovered to be me, they would thank me.”

“You are a horrible, insistent bitch-”

“You almost took my husband from me - the one man that has loved me unconditionally. The man that would do anything for me - my family. I will be damned if I let you ever harm so much as a hair on his head. You will never harm him, my children, my family, any one I care about ever again. You’ve set up your own downfall, and I will be your executioner. You know the best part of all? I don’t regret a single thing.”

Slowly dragging the blade down the column of his throat, you let it stop just at his heart. It was so close, just within reach. All you had to do was plunge it into his chest and he would be dead. Just like he had wanted Oberyn to be. 

So close, almost there...all you need to do was sink it into this flesh. You felt wild, almost like a mad woman - but everything you had been wanting was right in front of you. 

Just a little further, a little harder and it would all be done...

"Stop!" the familiar voice pulled you out of your daze as your chest rose and fell in a hectic, chaotic pattern. Nothing made sense right now - only vengeance and redemption - blood, "don't do this. You will regret it every single day of your life. And I can't let you live like that."

The two of you turned and found Oberyn Martell standing in the doorway, looking at the two of you with the most neutral expression you had ever seen; a true and collected negotiator. Your surprise turned to shock as you stared at your husband. He wasn’t supposed to be here, he wasn’t supposed to know about this. The dagger shook in your hand for a moment as Eaton swallowed thickly. 

“O-Oberyn,” you were between a rock and a hard place; you could easily have plunged the dagger and ended this, giving yourself a sense of satisfaction and vengeance. But if you did so, you would directly be going against Oberyn’s wishes. He didn’t want this but you did...you were almost positive of it. A strangled cry left your lips as you found yourself between a rock and a hard place, “you’re not supposed to be here!”

“And neither are you,” he took a few steps closer as he regarded the two of you curiously. He was very pointedly trying to keep the situation calm and diffused, “you don’t belong here, my love. This isn’t your home - come with me and we’ll go home. You don’t need to do this, he isn’t worth it.”

“Oberyn, he tried to kill you! He would have done it if he’d gotten the chance - he hoped you would die a slow painful death after you escaped. He loathes you, and for what?! You have done nothing but be kind and he’s a horrible, vile person! He doesn’t deserve my mercy or anything,” tears were running down your cheeks as you tried to rationalize everything to yourself, “what if he had taken you from me? I-I-I won’t let anything happen to you, ever, Oberyn. He deserves this!”

“That may be so, but you should not be his executioner,” he had come closer and closer until he was standing next to you, a hand tentatively wrapping around your wrist, “you do not deserve to live with such a thing on your conscience. Fate will be his undoing. Not you.”

“What if…”

“Don’t do this,” he insisted, as your brother looked around wildly, trying to figure out what was going on, but very aware that any wrong move, accidental or intended, would kill him, “you will never forgive yourself. Anything you would do to him would be too kind. But please, spare yourself the heartbreak and let him go. I’m right here, I’m okay - nothing will ever happen to me or take me from you. Not in this life or the next.”

“Oberyn,” his name was but a shaky whisper off your lips as you met his soft, brown eyes, “I-I just...I love you, and I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I love you, more than anything,” he slowly started to pull your wrist and dagger away from Eaton's throat, “that’s why I’m here - why I’m insisting you don’t do this. Please don't do this - for my sake and your sake. Just stop and come home with me. To our home - our family."

"Oberyn…"

"Come on, my Sunshine. Its not worth it. He is not worth a lifetime of regret," without even thinking about it, you let him pull your hand away as he carefully pulled the dagger out of your hand, "its okay, my love. It's okay."

Turning your attention away from Eaton's face, you looked at Oberyn and saw that he was just as emotional as you. He tucked the dagger into his waist belt before putting his hands on your face and wiping your tears away, "I-I'm sorry, my love. I thought...I thought this was the right thing to do."

"I know," he promised as he wrapped his arms around you and held you to his chest. He kissed the top of your head as you started to weep into his chest without abandon, "its okay."

Eaton watched the two of you with confusion on his face; whatever was going on, he knew he was safe for now. Clutching at his throat, he wiped away the blood that had oozed down his neck. A small sound of surprise escaped his lips at the burn. 

"You," Oberyn turned to your brother with a look of disgust etched into his features, "you will say nothing of this to anyone, or I will personally finish what she started. You will never contact her again, and she will never contact you again. This is over - it ends now. And if I get even so much as a whiff of you in Dorne or anywhere near us, I will make sure you suffer. The Boltons aren’t the only ones who know how to flay a body. Do I make myself clear, boy?”

Eaton was so stunned, stunned into silence as he merely nodded at the Dornish Prince. Opening and closing his mouth a few times, he fell short of words and watched in silence as Oneryn took your hand and slowly led you out of the study. The young lord hissed slightly at the burning sensation on the delicate flesh of his throat. It had all seemed like a fever dream; but the scar that your actions had been sure to leave were most definitely a reality. He collapsed in his stiff wooden chair, a faux throne for a great pretender, and held his head in his hands. Maybe he should have reconsidered crossing the Red Viper - and you.

»»————-　♡　————-««

Oberyn remained silent as he tightly clutched onto your hand and led you out of the castle. Only a few rushed words were said, but no one dared to approach either of you. If word of your arrival had gotten around, either no one cared enough to greet you, or they were all scared. But Oberyn was fast on his feet and had the two of you out of there before you could protest or make any sort of comment. Tears were liberally rolling down your cheeks in thick, fat droplets and splattering onto your gown and all the over the ground. 

He must have gotten there in a rush and quickly put the pieces together as his steed was wildly saddled just outside the gates. You saw Sarvon rush over with your own mare, almost as if he had been roped into aiding the Prince. Silently, he took the reins to the small mare and helped you to climb onto her back before repeating the same to his stead. 

Quietly thanking the young man for his assistance, he said nothing to you before reaching into the saddlebags and handing you a flask of water and some fruit. At least the man was smart enough to know you’d be starving and parched. You took them with quiet ease, too embarrassed and confounded to say anything. 

He led the way in silence for some time, still checking to make sure you were closely following him. The tension settling between the two of you was thick and palpable; it wasn't angry per se, but it certainly wasn't good. A few times you had wanted to say something, anything, to break the tension, but found yourself unable. Instead, you remained silent and studied the back of Oberyn’s head to try and get a read on him. It didn’t work; the Prince was good at hiding his true feelings when he needed to. 

“There’s a tavern a few miles ahead,” he said quietly after a long bout of silent; it had been morning you’d left Honeyholt and now dusk was starting to fall, “we’ll stay there for the evening and then continue on tomorrow morning.”

“Okay,” was the only response you could muster up. He hadn’t even turned to look at you.

»»————-　♡　————-««

The tavern was a small, quiet place, quaint and warm, and if you hadn’t been worried about the nerves churning out butterflies in your stomach, you would have been excited to rest there. Oberyn had handled business while you made your way to your temporary lodgings. As soon as you’d entered the room, a low sigh escaped your lips. Turning to the aged looking glass, you could see that you were an absolute sight to behold; hair wild and mussed, tired, bloodshot eyes, and ragged looking clothes. Luckily, there was a tub waiting with hot water in the adjoining room and you were halfway to slipping off your clothes when Oberyn came back into the room. 

He offered you a nod of acknowledgment before sitting at the edge of the bed and watching you closely, his arms crossing over his broad chest. 

“Go on,” he offered up, raising an eyebrow before looking between you and the wooden tub. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you stripped the remainder of your clothes before sinking into the warm water and letting out a long sigh at the feel of the warm water against your skin. It was the most relief you’d left in days, “better?”

“Yes,” you admitted as you grabbed a cloth to start washing your tired body, "thank you.”

“I brought clean clothes,” he continued; his voice was so slow and neutral, it was impossible to tell what he was thinking, “and they will bring up some food. I presume you might be tired and hungry,”

“Mhmm,” his calm demeanor was almost more unnerving than anything else, and you wished he would yell at you. At least then you would know his true feelings. 

It was silent for some time before anything happened as the two of you had just stared at one another. Oberyn ended up stripping off his own outer robe and remained only in his trousers as he washed his face in a small basin. Finding it impossible to complete even the simple task of washing your hair, you finally gave in and broke down, “Oberyn? Are you ever going to talk to me again?”

“I thought I had been.”

“You know what I mean,” you made swift work of washing the soap from your body before wringing your hair, “you’ve hardly said more than a few words to me. It isn’t like you.”

“What do you want me to say?” his hands found his hips as he looked at you in question, You were taken aback at his short, snappy response, but at least it was something other than complete emptiness. 

“Say you’re angry with me, that you’ll never forgive me or...something.”

“Of course I’m angry,” he said as you reached for the towel as you stood up and wrapped it around your now clean form, “I am beyond livid - furious - do you have any clue as to what could have happened if I hadn’t shown up? Do you have any clue as to how worried sick I was? Every horrible, wicked thought possible went through my mind!”

“Will you ever forgive me?”

“It’s not up to me to forgive you...the question is whether you forgive yourself,” with a heavy sigh, he sat back on the bed and you timidly walked over to him, “you could have been hurt.”

“But I wasn’t…”

“Luckily - this time,” he cut you off sharply as your lips formed a thin line and you willed yourself not to argue back, “but it was still a huge risk - a very uncalculated risk! One wrong move and you could have been hurt, or worse - killed. And what good would that have been? It would have been for naught.”

“I had to do something! You were going to do nothing!” you insisted, unable to keep your silence. While your husband may have had valid points, you wanted him to know you felt just as strongly about your own views, “Oberyn, he is a foul, horrible person! He wanted to kill you, he hoped you would die, and the worst part of all was that he didn’t regret anything. He laughed about, made a mockery out of you and myself. He deserved everything he got and worse!”

“Would you have done it?” how he managed to keep calm was beyond you. He simply looked at you, his breathing even and his eyes full of curiosity as you stood in front of him, wildly flailing while wrapped up in your towel, “would you have killed him?”

“I...I…” his simple question felt like it had punched the air out of your lungs as you opened and closed your mouth a few times, “I would…”

“Do you really think you could have plunged that dagger into his heart, through skin and muscle and bone, and killed him? Do you think you could have watched the life leave his eyes as he took his last breath?”

“I…”

“Killing is not as simple as you think, you sweet, innocent girl. It takes a lot to end someone’s life,” he explained as you stared at your feet, feeling tears start to well up in your eyes, “it is not something to take lightly - I have never taken it likely. I have killed many men, but only those who have deserved it.”

“He deserved it.”

“That may be so, but it’s not up to you to decide that,” Oberyn let out a long sigh as he held out his hand to you, “you do not deserve to be left with such a thing on your conscience. You are much too good for something like that; do not let one man, however terrible he may be, take away your light. He will get what he deserves, everyone always does, and it will be much crueler than anything you could do. Leave him to fate, to the gods, to the universe. He is not a part of your life any longer - you will never have to see or speak to him again. He has built his own bed and he will reap what he sows. But you? You are too kind, too pure, too innocent for such darkness. You are of a different kind than he is; do not let him drag you down to his level for a few moments of the idea of vengeance. It will not be worth it. Never.”

“The things he said...they were horrible, my love,” you took his hand, and let him pull you towards him, so you were standing in front of him. Oberyn stroked the back of your hand, almost absentmindedly as you ran your free hand through his curls, “I have never heard such horrid, loathsome things before - against me, you, our family. He...he said you didn’t love me, that you would never love me. It was all a lie and that I was just meant to go to you and give you children.”

“You know absolutely none of that is true,” he insisted as you nodded, letting a few tears run down your cheeks, “and he knows he is wrong. He says these things because he is jealous, because he will never have them. He is cold as steel and has closed off his heart, and he will never love or learn to be loved. But that does not mean what we have isn’t real. I love you more than you will ever know. I will do whatever it takes to prove that to you, every day.”

“I know you do,” you whispered as he stood up and pulled you into his body, wiping away your tears, “I know what we have is real...it’s just...I don’t know. I was acting rashly, and I just couldn’t handle the idea of someone hurting you, hurting the one person I love the most, and getting away with it.”

“You will never lose me,” he whispered as he traced over your features, “it’s because of you I’m still alive; you stood by my side every minute of every hour for days. Without you, I don’t think I could have made it. You must know that I’m not the only one with the world to lose. When Asha told me of your plans, I thought I was going to lose everything, I was worried. Yes, I am mad - mad that you directly defied what I asked of you, you lied and sneaked out of Sunspear, you went completely and held a knife to a man’s throat.”

“When you put it like that…”

“Truthfully?’

“Yes, I suppose.”

“You are still so young, with so much to learn,” he put a finger to your lips before you could say anything else, “I will teach everything I can, you will learn, in time. But sometimes you must learn to trust others - me. I would never do anything to hold you back, or do anything that wasn’t in your best interest. You know that right?”

“I do,” you admitted, “I suppose I was so caught up with the idea that if I had to suffer, so did he…”

“What a world it would be if everyone thought like that, no?”

“Is that why you’re a Prince, my love? Because you’re so wise and smart?”

“Because I was born lucky. The rest I’ve learned over the years, as you will,” he put a finger under your chin and turned your face up to his, “it takes time, but you will get there, and I will be there every step of the way.”

“I love you,” was all you managed to whisper as you stared back into his eyes, “Oberyn.”

“I love you,” he repeated, “don’t ever do anything like this again, okay? Next time I might not be there, or things can go very differently. It’s not worth it.”

“I promise,” you agreed as he gently kissed your lips, “never again. I'm sorry I worried you, just...please don't ever leave me. I'm sorry."

"Its okay," he nodded at you, and you felt a warmth pool in your belly at the way he observed you - with reverence, devotion, and adoration, "I'm not going anywhere."

Unable to stop yourself, you brought a hand to the top of your towel where it was barely hanging on. Undoing the weak knot, you let it fall to the wooden floor with a delicate thought as you stared at him. Your whole body flushed under his intent gaze, but it was only mere seconds before he wrapped his arms around your waist, his touch warm and brazen on your bare skin. 

Your arms wrapped around his neck as you crashed your lips onto his, kissing him with a fervent intensity that he easily matched. There was nothing soft or gentle about this, it was a rushed tangle of tongue and teeth as you battled for dominance. But you were no match for Oberyn, a man experienced in life and love, as gripped the back of your neck and held you close to his lips.

Your hands went to the waistband of his trousers as you tried to rip them off as quickly as possible. You wanted and needed him now. His hands found yours as he helped you to undo the trousers and push them to the ground. Oberyn's lips barely left yours as he stepped out of them and he reached for you again. His hands found your bum as he gave it a firm squeeze and you moaned into his mouth. You could feel him smirking against your lips.

"Oberyn," his name was a reverent whisper off your lips as he kissed along your jaw and nipped at the delicate skin of your throat as he did his best to ensure that there would be marks for everyone to see, "please...need you."

"Mhmm," he backed you up against the wall, gently so you didn't hit your back or head too hard. Warm, calloused but gentle hands roamed your body as he touched over every part of you he could reach. His hands were on your breasts, massaging them and rolling your pert nipples as you tried not to completely lose it - not just yet. 

You kissed every part of him you could reach, relishing in his soft, golden skin. He snaked  hand between your bodies and down to your core, where he started to circle your clit after running his fingers through your soaked folds. It hadn't taken much to get ready for him today.

"All for me?" he rasped in your ear as all you could do was nod and bite on your lip to keep from crying out. He kept touching you, working you up and slowly inserting two fingers, expertly curling them and causing you to see stars. Burying your face into his shoulder, your legs started to feel weak and shaky as you almost reached your high. But before he went any further, he ceased all his ministrations and pulled his hand away. 

"Oberyn!" you huffed at him as he bought his fingers to his lips and sucked them clean. That was enough to silence you completely as you watched him in awe, "oh."

"Sweeter than the finest fruit," he smirked before taking his cock in his hand and stroking his length a few times, "my sweet girl, you drive me wild with worry and wonder sometimes."

"Only because I love you," you instinctively spread your legs slightly to make room for him. Lining himself up at your entrance, it was a few seconds before he was fully sheathed inside of you. You moaned at the feeling of him stretching you out so perfectly as he took the opportunity to kiss you.

He wasted no time in thrusting into you, slowly at first, but then quickly setting a brutal pace as he tightly gripped your hips. It was almost as though something inside him had snapped he needed you desperately. Soon, the room was filled with nothing but your combined moans, the lewd sounds of skin on skin, and your back lightly hitting the wall. You were almost positive that anyone near you would be able to hear but was going on but it didn't stop either of you.

Before too long, your walls started to clench around him as his cock twitched within you. Unable to form proper words, you came with a cry around him and he offered you a few more shallow thrusts before spilling inside of you. 

He held you pinned against the wall for a few moments as you both came down from your highs. You pushed a stray curl from his forehead before he pressed a kiss to your lips.

"I love you," you offered up as a sort of all encompassing apology as you studied your husband's face.

"I know," he agreed as he touched your cheek, "I love you. Now, let's get some rest, Sunshine. We still have a lot to talk about later."

Maybe you'd made a rash and horrible decision; but at least you knew his love for you was truly unconditional.

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[onouwu]

Witch Heart Hunter

From far away, the low din of celebration from the residential area made its way through the large windows of a bare loft, a typically empty unsold apartment. Sounds of people about to welcome the new year melded with the ringing of car alarms and the manufactured happiness of radio pop. A bright shaft of moonlight shone through the overhead skylight, illuminating the brick interior and pristine hardwood floor where a pale brunette trespasser lies in a revealing blue dress with her wide brim hat covering her face, waiting. Time seemed to stop as Daisy laid on her back absorbing the sounds and vibrations of the city around her. Her heart thrummed in anticipation. Goosebumps raised on her bare skin at the thought of what was to come.

“I’m ho~oome!” Crystal announced, always heard before she was seen. Short blue-silver haired with a devilish smile like a fallen angel. Her frame was lithe and frail compared to Daisy’s taller stature and defined curves.  She materialized through a portal that appeared by their front door, revealing a beast of endless glowing blue tendrils on the other side before fading away into shadow. Looking up from her position on the floor, Daisy lifted the brim of her hat and gave her hungry look.

“Do you hear that?” Daisy sat up and cocked her head towards the city lights.

“Yes!” Crystal said “It’s like they’re begging to be taken,”

“Mmmh, I hope some do, the willing are fun to play with” Daisy let out “It’s been so long since we last feasted. We’d best be careful not to get overwhelmed”

Crystal laughed it off “You know, the hungrier I get, the stronger I am. Just guard the outside while I take my half and leave you the others, okay?”

Daisy just smirked as she got up “I’ll be counting”

The new year party goers were surrounded on three sides by towering evergreens, and to the north of their clearing was a partially frozen lake. A group of eight sat by the lakeshore, drinking beers, and listening to the radio for the countdown. A loner stood away from them on the ice, looking up at the moon and hugging himself for warmth. On a wooden log next to a crackling campfire, a couple sat kissing passionately. Scarves, gloves, and a white brassiere hung from the branches next to them like exotic flowers in the moonlight.

Daisy perched on a branch in the treetops, Crystal sat next to her, her excitement radiating off her as she peered into the crowd. And so, the pair sat and watched, waiting for midnight to strike when the group would converge. It was then that the witches would feed. “Get ready to say hello to the new year, folks! It’s currently 11:59!” The group hollered in response to the jovial radio host. “If you’re listening right now, I wish you good health, happiness, and safe travels home. We’ll leave it to the city timepiece to count us down. We’re signing off for the holidays! As always, stay safe. Stay inside.” To this, several of the group scoffed.

Crystal elbowed Daisy in the rib, interrupting her observation. She looked beside her to see Crystal, thighs straddling the branch they were on and swinging her legs without a care in the world.

“Hey Daisy, make it snow will ‘ya?”

With a bit of a laugh Daisy’s eyes fell shut and her right hand waved in the air with a bright blue glow. High above the treetops, a cloud swirled and grew. Soon, snowflakes fell to the ground above the opening.

“Hey check it out!” The partygoers oohed and aahed, momentarily distracted by the sudden snowfall. No one seemed to notice that it was only in their clearing that snow fell. As if on cue, their heads shot to the side as the first of many fireworks exploded in the distance. “Ten! Nine! Eight—” The group gathered around the campfire, bottles in hand. “Seven! Six!” The lovers finally separated. “Five! Four!” The loner slowly made his way to the group, avoiding the couple. “Three!” The snow fell harder. “Two!” The fireworks came faster. “One!” Crystal and Daisy stood. “HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

A sound like an explosion rang in their ears. The snowfall had evolved into a storm. A wall of ice sprung up from the ground, blocking the city skyline with what looked like a jagged translucent glacier encircling them. They began to realize the trap they had fallen into much too late.

These walls were soon dotted with portals to another realm where slippery glowing tendrils shot out and grabbed their helpless victims.

“All this energy is going to feed us for days!” Crystal cried out.

Daisy couldn’t think. All she could hear was the sound of the humans wailing and the ecstasy of feeding. She was drawn into the uproar by its momentum. It was hard for her to resist immediately draining the life from these trapped humans, but she walked along the ice wall to scout the area for any alerted human forces. Sure enough, it didn’t take long before she saw a bespectacled woman with dark skin in camos and a black tank top. Her long curly hair a crimson red and her eyes display an unsettling calm when looking at the witch’s trap.

Daisy heeded caution, but she could see from the well-developed physique of this woman that there was a lot of life in her that shouldn’t go to waste. She quickly raised her hand and formed a snowy tornado around her that instantly hardened into a cone of solid frosty ice.

“Ohh what a catch” Daisy let out as she slid down the ice tower and began walking toward the woman who stood eerily still despite her situation. Daisy took the cue however and didn’t get too close before she froze the woman’s feet to the ground.

“You’re full of delicious energy. What’s your name, sweetie?” Daisy let out joyfully as she felt the intense energy radiating off this woman – more than any human she has ever seen.

“Name’s Hilda, dead witch… I want you to scream it loud before I crush your throat” The woman let out. In an incredible display of strength, Hilda slammed her fists against the wall of ice and smashed a hole into it within a second.

Daisy’s heart jumped from seeing such a superhuman display of power, reminiscent of the witch hunters of old. She decided to quickly end it, and summoned sharp spears of ice beneath the woman to skewer her. However, as the ice shot up like a rocket, the woman freed her feet and moved from over the forming pillar, using it as leverage to leap toward Daisy.

Terror filled Daisy’s hungry eyes as Hilda landed within a few feet of her. Daisy could only form a flat wall before her and flee while giving herself a moment to figure out how to handle this mysteriously strong person. Daisy quickly summoned a blizzard behind her as she ran to gain more distance, but all she could hear was the cracking of the ice as soon as it formed. Every step she took those behind her felt closer. Her poor lungs started to wheeze while her heart slammed in her throat, filling her ears with its frantic thrumming.

She turned around to summon another barrier but was met with a heart-stopping gaze inches from her face and a deep agonizing pain in the pit of her stomach. the woman’s fist had just buried itself into her core and robbed her of what little breath she had.

Daisy dropped to her knees, clutching at her chest with one hand, croaking hoarsely as she gasped for air and heaved. This was a blow like she had never felt before. As she lay on the forest floor weak and breathless, she felt utterly helpless. She could only wonder what the woman had in store for her after that.

In her winded state, Daisy managed to roll onto her burning and aching stomach. She desperately clawed at the frozen earth.

“You’re pathetic.” A boot harshly turned her over onto her back. Daisy could only see the sadism shining through this woman’s cold and heartless gaze before she stomped on the pale bare flesh of Daisy’s midsection.

Daisy tried to curl into the fetal position but Hilda shoved her boot in harder, crushing her organs under the hard thick rubber of her boot.

Hilda knelt down and Sat on Daisy’s hips, the relief of that shoe leaving her body wouldn’t hast long before she felt a calloused hand wrapping around her throat and squeezing mercilessly

“Haahkk- aahk—" Daisy let out in a desperate plea for air, grabbing and forming icy shackles around Hilda’s arm. A bright blue glow came from her hands and the ice pushed upward to lift the hand. Despite the intense cold, the determined soldier doubled down her grip. The ice cracking, shards falling on Daisy’s body as her efforts proved futile.

“I hope you all make it this easy. Just give up so I can cut your heart out and add it to my trophy wall” Hearing that makes Daisy’s heart slam against her ribs as if trying to escape its fate, but while Hilda’s hand cuts off the vital route of blood to her brain, its efforts only hastened the end of her precious oxygen supply. Her vision blurred as drool overflowed from her lips. The thick blue veins in her neck standing on end, her purple face and throat bulging, looking as if her head would pop like a grape while she struggled to free herself.

“You know what… I can’t wait for that.” Hilda pulled out a knife, Daisy squirmed beneath the woman with all her might at the sight of the glossy silver blade, but to no avail. The last-ditch effort only brought a smile to Hilda’s face in its futility as her cold steel pressed against Daisy’s breathlessly squirming chest.

Daisy’s gaze rested upon that vengeful piercing stare as her vision faded, feeling the knife bite her skin. Despite her efforts to cling to consciousness and her frantic pleas to her eldritch patron, her body quickly calmed and succumbed to its fate. She could only lie there breathlessly while the cold blade slowly descended into her chest and inched closer to her pounding heart.

“Daaaaaayyyseeee, it’s dinner time” Crystal called out.

Crystal waited for a few seconds before getting impatient. She decided to see for herself what was going on and leapt up to a tentacle which she sat on as it towered above the icy wall “Ugh, don’t tell me you’re not sharing the-“ Crystal watched in complete shock as she saw Someone sitting on Daisy’s unconscious body, continuing to strangle her while slipping a knife beneath her ribs. That shock turned to a hot rage quickly before she lifted her staff and summoned a portal behind the woman

THWACK- massive and slick tendril sent the woman flying a few feet away from Daisy.

The woman let out a “GAH” as she bounced off the ground once and rolled to a stop on her stomach. Ignoring this, she raised her head and looked back to where she stood a moment before. A translucent blue tentacle undulated, its base emerging from a portal near Daisy’s supine body and its tip stroking her neck, another wrapped around the blade which twitched to the beat of the frantic organ writhing against its tip.

“Tsk, tsk. Oh, Daisy. I thought I taught you to last longer than that? Disappointing.” Crystal let out while Hilda looked up at her.

“Hello there! Who might you be, and how did you manage to do that?” Crystal pointed at Daisy.

“You’ll see” Hilda replied

“My friend Daisy back there is a bit of a lightweight, I admit. But still, I’ve never met a non-magical person who could do such a thing.” Crystal planted her staff on the ground and put her crossed arms on top of it. She perched her chin atop a forearm as she leaned against her staff, looking at Hilda with a pixieish smile. “Comeon… What’s your deal? I’d love to know before I… well, you know.”

Hilda, now on her feet, shot a death glare at Crystal. “Oh, you’ll find out what my deal is. Firsthand.”

“Dangerous and snappy! I love it.” Crystal said

Hilda took off and charged the witch where she stood. Crystal ripped her staff from the ground and held it out to her side as Hilda closed the distance between them. The redhead’s fist cut through the air like a bullet, inches away from Crystal’s neck but stopped short as she fell to the ground. She looked back to see a large tendril gripping her leg and pulling her back to the portal from where it came.

“Keep going, show me what you got, sweetie!” Crystal said while more slithered out from the portal and grabbed the woman’s body, slick and wet as they coiled around her limbs and slid down to her wrists and ankles

“Ngh!” A grunt of effort escaped as she struggled against them until she calmed down and let the witch close in. Crystal stood up against the bound woman.

“Looks like you were about to take my friends heart. If you want a witch’s heart so much, here…” Crystal grabbed Hilda’s hand gently and pressed it to her own chest. Her excited heart pounding into Hilda’s palm.

“You have mine already.” Crystal smiled

Hilda ripped her hand from Crystal’s body as disgust filled her eyes. Crystal’s own expression filled with disappointment

“Come on, don’t be so cruel… to yourself! It’s your last moment, don’t you think you should let yourself enjoy it?” Crystal said as she wrapped her arms around Hilda in a tight hug, closing her eyes to feel the nonverbal exchange between their pounding hearts, Crystal’s excitement and Hilda’s rage fueling eachother in every exasperated beat. The life in this woman made her drool, a powerful energy she had never felt before, all hers for the taking. A treat that must be savored. Hilda’s muscular body squirmed against her and moves her delicate and flimsy body around like nothing, held back only by the power of her spell.

After about a minute the captive woman stopped resisting, to Crystal’s disappointment.

“Mmmm, time to-“ Crystal opened her eyes to see Hilda staring down at her with a wicked smile. As she reached for her staff she felt the woman’s hand holding it, the tendril that was binding her wrist ending in a fleshy pulp.

“hey, give me that” Crystal let out as she backed off from arm’s length. The tendrils left Hilda’s body to Crystal’s horror, showing just how faithful her demonic deity was to her as it obeyed its new vessel.

Crystal’s heart sank, her legs began to shake as she weighed her options and held her composure.

“You think I need that? We speak telepathically, and you can’t understand the language of ancient Gods”

“Your guard dog speaks just fine… Nothing’s going to be quite as satisfying as what I am about to do to you now” Hilda let out as she raised the staff above her head. Crystal’s composure dropped and she fell back reflexively, crawling up to run, only to be tripped by a familiar slimy appendage. She frantically pulled at it to no avail

“What are you doing, stop!” she said to the demonic being, though she was met with silence.

Hilda approached with a grin from ear to ear. Crystal couldn’t stop herself from struggling in vain, putting on a pathetic show for her assailant. As Hilda closed in, Crystal puts her hand in front of her face. Hilda grabbed her wrist roughly and pulled her up. The staff glowed in Hilda’s hand and Crystal felt a warmth on her chest.

“Come on, you wanted to have some fun didn’t you?” Hilda let out, stabbing the staff in the ground beside her and grabbing the top of Crystal’s blouse, ripping it open and baring her naked body. Confused, Crystal looked down, her eyes widened at the sight -- her chest covered in the runes of a small portal into her body. The space inside the circle disappeared and Hilda’s hand reached in.

“Ahhh! Wait, wait!” Crystal cried out as she felt an intense pressure in her chest, the thrumming in her ears and body ceased.

Hilda grinned “You wanted to give me this? What a pathetic thing, I don’t even want it… now go ahead, do something, your arms are free.” Hilda let out harshly, sending a new explosion of agony through Crystal’s chest, radiating outward into her weary body while the woman’s fingers sank into the meat of her helplessly squirming life. As her fate set in, she stopped short of giving Hilda the satisfaction of token resistance for as long as she can.

“What a great stress relief, crushing a wretched witch’s heart” Hilda says with a twisted sense of amusement. Crystal remained silent, looking up and spitting in Hilda’s face.

“Come on, bitch, do something fun” Intense waves of unbearable pressure consumed Crystal as Hilda harshly pumped her heart.

“AHK!! Please!” Crystal let out, caving easily as she flailed and tried digging her fingernails into the intruding arm with all her might -- a smile cracking the frustrated frown on Hilda’s face. Crystal’s vision grew blurry, her head feeling light, but the cruel woman’s torment was fueled by her helpless struggling.

“I’d love to keep going but I need to finish what I started with your fri-“

Hilda’s words ended abruptly as a ball of solid ice slammed into the side of her head. When Hilda lets go and fell over unconscious, Crystal saw Daisy behind her, holding her own chest and panting heavily while forming an icy prison Hilda’s body

“Crystal… we need to be more careful” Daisy let out, sitting beside her partner, pulling her to her lap, watching over her while she took shallow labored breaths

Crystal couldn’t speak to tell Daisy how grateful she was to see her. As the portal on her chest closed, every heartbeat sent shockwaves through her body.

“Wh…what about her” Crystal mustered

“We’re going to study her… painfully. And figure out what this new power is.”

[starry-skies-116]

Compound, iridescent eyes, perfectly painted and crafted from meticulous hands, carved of glass and sockets of coiled metal circuitry blink. The dispersing fragments of the owner’s consciousness are slowly converging into one unassuming shard, reflective and watching the waking world- currently a dilapidated room, steeped in the dim embers of a faint glow, broken pieces of memories scattered here and there- practically everywhere, neatly scribbled on sticky notes.

Heart pounding in his ears, all other nonexistent noise muffled, Gregory still lies flat on his belly, ears pressed against the cold, dusty floor of the ground beneath him that has long served as comfortable bedding. He can only take solace in his tear-stained cheeks already burning red and hot, his throat sore from screaming, the quiet yellow thrum of the side of his temple conveying countless calculations and operations- a quiet, illusory peace, transient like the bubbles rising through water.

Ephemeral, like lightning flashing ever-brilliantly across the sky shrouded in stormclouds and shadow.

With one of his hands, he absentmindedly twirls a lock of hair, a sideburn that frames his face and falls over his ear- with the other, he holds a sticky note with his drawing of his family so carefully etched onto it- his parents, his two siblings, folded and unfolded countless times to satisfy his restless hands and mind. Feeling the texture of synthetic polymer paper in his hand, the brunette counts on the rise and fall of his chest and the sound of his perfectly punctuated breathing, all constructed, artificial- all to keep him tethered to insanity.

‘I wake up to the sound,

Of the silence that allows,

For my mind to run around,

With my ear up to the ground…’

Pathetic, is it not? Voices jeered inside his head. That you’ve been reduced to nothing more than a sobbing wreck on the ground- weak, helpless, like you always once were.

He lets the voices seep like water up to his waist, taking a deep breath and submerging in his thoughts. The sounds around him are even more muffled as he swims deeper into the abyss of remuneration, of pondering- of how things had ever managed to get this bad, this fast. The acquired memories- pieced together like a complete jigsaw puzzle, converge and diverge, converge and diverge again, like a dancing school of minnows weaving in the water, their scales of silver and platinum glistening against the dark. Those beautiful, twisted thoughts shining whilst his imperfect heart, mind and soul were mired and stained in charcoal. 

How Gregory’s life had changed so fast, so simply, with a single bite, was far beyond him- a flatline followed by four more. Four quick swallows, four slashes for one destroyed woman- three sounds of bone-deep squelching that scrambled the body for a young man, a girl too young and goodhearted, and a man with a soul of ice and stone. Bones shattered, flesh torn apart- legacies now ash in the wind, a statistic carved onto the stone of a grave. How his name, all he was, had come to split into two.

All these tragedies that bubbled to his mind upon learning of the rumors, and yet he was the only one that somehow knew them to be true, even if they weren’t. All these broken forms, shattered souls to create the growing cracks and rifts in his family, the fissures only growing deeper as they spiderwebbed across the ground,

I'm searching to behold…

The stories that are told,

When my back is to the world,

That was smiling when I turned…!’

The hazy fog of white static, of numbness, thins and clears from his vision down to his legs entirely. Fire pricks the back of his eyes, burning from within his soul like a resolve born from the womb of rage- red hot rage. His temple throbs with the passionate burn of red seething through to his vision, thrumming with desire and grief.

Why wouldn’t the world expect crushing nonexistence for him, for everything he was to cease to be? After all, he ought to die- separated from a shard of himself still, blood, bone, flesh and heart reforged- slumbering underneath the earth for nearly more than half a century to awaken to a world brand new, he ought to die.

How dare the world act like nothing he loved mattered. How dare the world falsely mourn the tragedies of his entire world when it came crumbling down and melted to nothing before his eyes, then carve their names onto graves and act like they’re statistics jotted down in a ledger for future generations to study- as if their legacies, their hopes and dreams and nonexistent futures didn’t matter. As if all they could amount to in the constantly changing backdrop of the world was only a tragedian drama.

As if he didn’t matter, and they were self-aware about rubbing the fact in his face. As if he would never be worth anything in the eyes of the universe that had created him anew.

He shakes his head fervently- no, there had to be a purpose behind his creation, his rebirth! There had to be, there HAD to be!

How dare they.

‘Tell you you're the greatest…

But once you turn, they hate us…!’

Those days of mourning and searching amidst an impenetrable mist of his mind, of hiding in visceral terror and grief, touching his knees to his forehead and his ankles and heels to his palms to end every day with wet thighs, losing all track of time… those purposeless days of wandering… they seemed so long ago, now.

Gregory pats the back pocket of his shorts to ensure the sticky note is secure- his only reason to live. The only way his heart could possibly have been mutilated and cracked by such brutal emptiness- a fulfilled, happy life, inner peace, his home and his family: the past he had, and the future he could never have.

He could only hope that the amount of tacky Fazbear Entertainment merchandise he had on his person could mask the crushing weight of the world on his tainted soul.

Amidst the wandering of cream-collored walls patterned with countless beige diamonds, and flower vases of unbearable fragrance that appear plucked straight out of the Gardens of Babylon- the contrasting reds and blues, yellows and pinks pierce his eyes as he follows the blonde woman- Vanessa Anderson- down to the therapist’s office, marked by a gold label upon a dark wooden door. At least the sights outside the clear glass windows serve as an interesting way to pass the time while her sessions go by- his eyes glance up, and a satisfied smile quirks up the corners of his lips.

And at least he has a vent to escape through if all else failed.

‘Oh, the misery…

Everybody wants to be my enemy!’

The therapist peers at him with hazel eyes that glimmer as she clutches her clipboard to her chest- they peer upon him with a curious, doe-eyed fondness and amusement, evident in her words laced with honey oh-so saccharine, falling melodiously from her tongue. Sitting in the oversized chair, Gregory merely crosses his arms and continues assessing and evaluating the woman before him in the chair across, sitting at her maplewood desk, paying little mind to the way they coddle him so- he is no child. The days of innocence and foolish naivete have been long gone.

“What exactly are you wearing those gloves for, hmm?” she had asked, at one point, her raised eyebrows a question- calculations run through his mind once more, evaluating, assessing, strategically and tactically planning, meticulously thinking out the best course of action. Blue, yellow, flashing yellow, flickering back to blue. Patience, patience- timing, context, patience all are key.

To prevent any action from tracing back to me, he thinks. Plan the work, work the plan.

“They looked good, what can I say?” he answers.

‘Spare the sympathy...

Everybody wants to be,

My enemy-y-y-y-y~!

My enemy-y-y-y-y~!’

Night eventually comes to fall when he sneaks back into the Pizzaplex and crawls into the safety of the tunnels around Roxy Raceway, skillfully evading the security. The pale moonlight, sweet in scent like dusk, is a moment Gregory cherishes underneath the stars. The crumpled paper, warm and safe in the compartment of his back pocket, is finally taken out and unfolded, the distant remembrance of living, meanwhile, ever-bright in his mind like the brightest of stars, no longer entombed.

His family deserve nothing but the warmest and most welcoming of embraces from his arms, nothing short of the softest, gentlest kisses from his own lips to show just how much he utterly, wholly loved them- how much he would give just to protect them and care about them, care about something, once more.

The words form on his lips before he can stop himself, uttering them to his entire world, his eyes glimmering amidst the dark that cloaked his phantom presence entirely.

“I love you. And I’ll be ready.”

He’ll remain strong when the time comes, when push comes to shove. He won’t let them down.

‘But I'm ready.’

After all, he’s made his decision long ago.

‘Your words up on the wall,

As you're prayin' for my fall…

And the laughter in the halls,

And the names that I've been called…!’

The wails of the police sirens still surround him, bathing his surroundings in stark shades of napthol red and electric blue- the color of emergency, of urgency that threatened to turn into either tragedies or miracles. In this case, it was an investigation in the aftermath of a nigh-cataclysmic disaster- he clicks his tongue under his breath, a stark and neon yellow flicker bright in the temple of his mind from the slight strain, barely noticeable in his remuneration, in his pretending to mourn the lost futures that would no longer matter. 

He pretends that the sorrow weighs on his heart all too much as he glimpses the firetrucks pulling up, the firefighters already on the scene desperately trying to put out even the last glowing embers of the flaming piles of debris. He pretends to show repressed hysteria when medical assistance loads injured survivors into ambulances, the whole operation organized even despite the abruptness of tragedy brought by his hand to the public. The acrid scent of burning flesh claws its way into the noses of any unfortunate enough to wander near what remained of the carnage.

Casualties. That’s all the people back inside the building will ever be. All the world ever treated him and everything he ever loved as. Just statistics in a ledger, names carved into stone and planted upright in the grass to look pretty on the backdrop of the setting sun.

Gregory couldn’t go hunting down all the threats he evaluated after he had neutralized his five targets- those insufferable therapists- assessed and judged to pose a danger to him and his endeavors, taking them out one by one- that would just be extra work. What better way to make quick work of them than an explosion? A total freak accident, caused by volatile substances and poor fire safety regulations that somehow brought the whole building down… what a masterfully crafted cover-up story, if he must say so himself. No one would suspect anything anymore.

Now, he takes another bite out of the novelty pop that still refused to melt in the cool breeze- every lick, every swallow is strangely bittersweet, as if this disastrous summer evening reminds him of happier days. When the tear-stained gazes of others look his way, he pretends to look disoriented- confused, expression full of tears and prayers that no ill had befell him or his welfare. 

They look the other way, and he can’t help the near-manic smile twitching up the corners of his lips that instantly disappears when they look back at him again, those eyes full of shining sympathy. His true nature was that of eyes of glimmering light and darkness, eyes that harbored the reflected universe down to every last corner, roving across the aftermath like how a man might gaze upon an ant, knowing full well these sacrifices would never be in vain.

Gregory may regret this, he muses to himself. Is he sorry that it has come to this? After all, he valued life, and did the deed only because there was no other option, let alone a better one. 

One day, he could feel sorry for everything he’s ever done, have to swallow the bitter pill of whatever horrible things the world thinks of him as his sins weigh him down in the masses. One day he would probably look back on the woven tale of conquest, of love and grief, of blight and lies with shame and a disgustingly purified heart. Maybe one day, he will regret this path. But right now, euphoric and elated, heart beating happy from inside with adrenaline rushing through him like power incarnate, he feels only pity for these pathetic souls that he worked so hard to have power over- the world that has done nothing but kicked and spat on him, discarding his life like garbage. A pat on the back awaits him at the end, his successful chance to prove himself as he’s thwarted every attempt on destroying his life with perfect execution and planning.

Every glimpse of fury he rained down upon all those whom dared separate him from his dream. Every poor fool who was stupid enough to assume he was the helpless child he was in the past. He fell mercy to phantoms of the dark with only his plushies to protect him- now, he stood atop the world, feet planted more firmly into the ground than ever before. Feeling the best he’s ever been- dangerous, godlike, untouchable, unstoppable.

Ohh, how good it felt to finally walk the walk. And damn, did he walk it well.

‘I've stacked it in my mind,

And I'm waiting for the time,

When I show you what it's like,

To be words spit in a mic!’

Brilliant, cunning strategies are written down on the back of his sticky note- backup plans for backup plans, failsafes for failsafes if all else fails. Tactics, patience, meticulous plans crafted from the ground up- surroundings observed and thoroughly deciphered, enemy figured out entirely. No longer would he hide, no longer would he cower in the dark no matter how much blood pools at his feet. He’d plan the work, and work the plan- use his newfound strengths to overcome his weaknesses, seek out all forms of knowledge to further his ever-growing, ever-evolving mission.

No longer would the world underestimate him. He chuckled to himself absentmindedly, his feet dangling a few inches from the ground as he sat upon the swing and gazed at the stars- just how would the world react if they knew all of his true nature? Some may call him a villain- others a tragedy. Some a victim, others a fallen hero, perhaps even a psychopath- never a person. A person who had all he treasured ripped from him- who life was so, so unfair to.

No wonder he was mired in such chilling ecstasy- all his practice, all his hard work, all his planning… finally yielding results. Every challenge and pitfall was swiftly and successfully cut down without hesitation- he feels a semblance of confidence and pride swelling from within himself. He could finally be more than what others thought he was worth. He finally had control- had a name, was important instead of a statistic.

And he could finally have his family back together again, his happy life back together again, if he just continued to keep it up a while longer. How wonderful, indeed…!

His future wasn’t going to change itself, after all- there was always more plans to be made, more work to be done.

“No turning back,” he whispers aloud to himself. “Here we go- it’s all or nothing from here on out. Let’s do this.”

‘Tell you you're the greatest…

But once you turn, they hate us!’

Every accomplishment is something people would deem an atrocity. But he merely smiles and congragulates himself on his perfect, impeccable execution- they wouldn’t understand what it was like to be forgotten by the world- to have all you love suddenly not matter. To have the entire world turn against you.

Let them think of him what they will when they find out- opinions of the public are ephemeral, transient, ever-changing- all that matters is that he reclaims what has been taken from him.

All that matters is the future that never came to be- the wonderful, beautiful life he couldn’t live.

‘Oh, the misery!

Everybody wants to be my enemy!

Spare the sympathy~

Everybody wants to be...

My enemy-y-y-y-y!

My enemy-y-y-y-y!’

Gregory finds himself gazing at too-kind eyes, glowing cartoonish eyes that promised protection and unconditional love- a safe haven. The faint smell of metal and oil coming from the seven-foot tall animatronic bear in front of him, dressed head-to-toe in punk rock clothing, smells of warmth, of safety and comfort.

Tsk, you idiot! He chides himself. Life shall coddle you no more, have you still not learned?

Climbing into the previously uncomfortable stomach hatch now feels like climbing into home, and he nestles inside as though he were a baby being carried once more.

As though he could be weak, selfish, vulnerable in the eyes of this bear once more- but he shakes his head furiously, making quick work of ridding the thought from his mind. What was he thinking, they’ve only just met!

Be vigilant at all times, be weary friend and foe on this path. Be prepared. Be ready.

But was it really so right to withdraw an already outstretched hand…?

‘They say pray it away...

I swear,

That I'll never be a saint, no way!’

The faint thrum of the charging station surrounds them, the white, dreamless nature of a blissful and pure sleep untainted by nightmares evading Gregory. Not that he wanted such things, anyway- after many failed, half-hearted attempts, he begins to ponder, his mind begins to wander. He thinks about how he got to this point- what this all meant for him. What the future held in store for objects of creation reborn for some grander, larger purpose that continued to evade him.

His anger sealed, his desires semi-satisfied, the phantom sensation of a metal animatronic paw brushing against his fingers, hands intertwined with his… and what does he have to show for it? Nothing but a pain that knew no end, jagged and rough and scarring against all that had been formerly pure and unblemished. His fury is dampened by the quiet rain of his cold, short and sharp breaths, and even despite the way he curls in on himself, it refuses to be extinguished, just like the flame of his hope refuses to flicker out.

Just like true peace and happiness continued to evade him, when he wished to obtain the fate he had sown. Fleeting moments of joy- transient, evading him whenever he had to be separated from the animatronic bear that he had grown strangely attached to.

He barely holds back a silent chuckle- damn his friendly face and his all-attracting charm. Gregory never thought he’d be steeped in the purest, subtlest forms of happiness- love and peace also resurfacing to his mind at the thoughts of Freddy. 

Love akin to a child in the arms of their guardian.

His smile quickly falls as his thoughts derail and multiply.

‘A chair,

In the corner is my place, I stay…’

He couldn’t help the stupid grin that crawled up the corners of his mouth whenever Freddy congragulated him on doing literally anything. Why?

‘I shake,

And I think about the powers at play...

The powers at play!’

The garbled screams of Chica in the garbage compactor, Roxy’s surprised face moments before the Go-Kart collided into her, Monty crying out for help as he fell to his demise from the collapsing catwalks- they all ring pure and clear in his mind, and he can feel his sins slithering up his neck in the form of cold goosebumps, true to form.

Why why why. Why, though?

He scowls- just as he predicted. But it was not them he cared about, but rather… him. Freddy- the only one who would accept and love him, the only one who couldn’t know about the ways Gregory hurt all he cared about. The only one who couldn’t know the truth about him or what horrible things he had done to escape the emptiness, the cold, right into the arms of a warm, loving dream of family that he continued to chase- that kept him awake every single night.

Something has brought them together, and may he call it whatever he will- coincidence, fate, destiny, the ever-merciless flow of time that coerced the butterflies out of their cocoons only to fall to the ground once more with the wings cruelly severed from their backs.

Or maybe it was himself and his desire, the way he viciously fought his way up to power and stood in the shoes of someone dangerous and capable, that he had become.

‘And the kids in the dark,

That were doomed from the start!’

His mind flashes at how Freddy pauses ever-so briefly before saying his name- at how his snout and mouth just barely noticeably soured at the name that fell from his mouth. As if he’d rather be calling him by a different name- a more familiar name.

Gregory freezes. There was NO way he could possibly know about his friends, about his life, about what he was. There was NO way he could’ve learned of his other name.

NO way.

‘The child in the basement,

Face to the pavement…’

More memories resurface to his mind- Michael locking him in the basement on some nights while his friends came over, his surroundings taking on a new form. Perhaps this was prophesied by the hallucinations in the encroaching expanse of the abyss- it will have blood, the whispering voices once said to him- the voices in every nook and cranny, crack and impossibly miniscule hole in the wall, creatures caressing him and calling out his name with strange reverence and devotion on their disembodied tongues. 

Blood will have blood will have blood. Even in his room, where the sensations of comfort and home was supposed to reside, now remained no longer. Even when the eclipsing moon of scarlet and snow white contrasting ‘gainst one another comes to tarnish the rust red sky.

Stones have been known to move, and trees to speak. Shadows have been known to lurk and stalk in the darkness of the halls, echoes of chimerical sounds have been known to go bump in the night. And yet now, everywhere was the territory where unrealizing dreams dwelled, littered in the smallest lingering traces of the past like stars speckled across the twilight yawn of heaven’s black enroaching all living things, earthly lifeforms and concerns tethered to the soil as they yearned for the lands above.

‘Oh, what a statement,

Love is embracement,

Love is a constant!

Love is a basis!’

And here his heart remained, eternally broken apart, eternally unfulfilled, doomed to forevermore drift between heaven and earth. He couldn’t decide whether rebirth into this form of sublimity and perfection incarnate was a blessing or a curse that only exacerbated itself by the minute. He only remained because his fingers were on the precipice of something great, something wonderful and divine that no mortal goal of external pursuits could ever hold a candle to- he was so close to love, to happiness, to fullfillment and the future. So close to peace, finally. Finally. 

Finally able to make all the bitterness, deceit and mistakes worth it on the path of tears and blood that he had walked. Gregory knew that his path from the beginning would never be an easy one to forge… and yet he was so close to breathing life into that promise- that vow that had slipped from his reach every time.

‘He cannot be, she cannot be,

They cannot be chained…

But keep on praying…

Goodbye…’

The memory of his plushies making promises yet unbroken still lingered like the melting breath in the wind, left to rot like apples being plucked from their branches by the early morning chill of winter, left to rot in neat rows amidst decay neatly tidied and encapsulated.

The six virtues are still in his mind- the virtues of the reforged, something any elementary schooler has learned in fourth-grade history: protection, courage, resolve, devotion, truth and victory.

And in this supreme form, in this life, would Evan Afton bring to fruition a masterfully weaved dream to shame the world that had dishonored him and the legacy he could never leave. No shackles would ever hold him back.

‘Oh, the misery,

Everybody wants to be my enemy!

Spare the sympathy...

Everybody wants to be…!’

He picks himself up- and in the backdrop of a cruel world that continues to carry on and endure, he too endures.

‘Oh, the misery!

Everybody wants to be my enemy~!

Spare the sympathy,

Everybody wants to be...

My enemy!’

Reborn in the ashes anew, he fights to create the sense of belonging in a new world that he could never have- that was so cruelly denied of him. Moments of introspection cannot matter- he cannot hesitate, cannot be careless or wavering, cannot falter in this path he chose for himself.

Gregory vows that even in the darkest of times, he will never stop fighting for everything he lives for. The mission was of critical, paramount importance to everything he ever lived for and loved no matter what.

His life had no value until he gained something to die for.

‘Pray it away,

I swear,

I'll never be a saint, no way!

My enemy~

Pray it away,

I swear,

I'll never be a saint!’

Let the world think of him what they shall- the days of purity and carefree joy have long-since ended, the last sputtering and flickering embers of the flame long since extinguished.

All that remained was the emptiness of the space in his shattered heart he sought to fill, and a bloodied hatchet buried beneath the earth.

If living out a happy life was a sin, then he shall gladly become the worst of sinners- let the atrocities be his guest.

[lady-agni]

Happy birthday @neutronstarchild !! Thanks for bringing me and this fandom so much entertainment and joy! I hope you like this!

FF // AO3 // ko-fi

Fandom: Inuyasha

Pairing: SessKagu

Audience: Teen +

Summary: Years after the defeat of Naraku, Sesshomaru realizes that he's become unsatisfied with his life, antsy. There's a familiar wind surrounding him. So he ventures to find its source and realizes what he's been missing all this time.

The sky darkened into dark hues of blues and grays. Not a star glimmered in the night. Clouds covered the vast space above and around them.

Golden eyes narrowed, assessing every movement, sound, and scent: the apex predator.

Shesshomaru surveyed the mountain top’s terrain, slightly put-out that his recent opponent, if you could even call it that, was a coward hiding behind snow covered alps. Ah-Un flew on guard around the precipice, keeping Rin and his pathetic retainer safe.

A crunch to his left.

Sesshomaru turned to the sound with killing precision. His silver hair dazzling in a swirl around him. He zeroed in on the creature instantly, his lithe body tensing, eyes narrowing, and youkai billowing around him for a fatal strike. Like electricity, he shot from where he stood to the spineless fool that dared challenge him.

The gutless snow demon jumped out of hiding and shot straight to Sesshomaru’s adopted daughter, his body hardening into an ice dagger and cutting rapidly through the sky.

Of course Sesshomarru would obliterate him before any damage was done, but then the wind changed. A familiar scent surrounded him, putting him at ease when it should not have, soothing his tempered youkai, distracting him enough to make him falter in his pursuit.

Ah-Un kicked up it’s front legs like a horse, screeching as the snow demon advanced. Little pre-teen Rin held on for dear life, screaming her lord’s name to save her, watching the ice dagger, larger than Sesshomaru’s swords, advance upon her. Jaken, so weak and small, rolled off the dragon’s back and screamed profanities as he fell down the mountain side below. Despite her terror, Rin laughed as she watched over the saddle as Jaken dissapeared. “Master Jaken!” she heaved, amused tears rolling from her eyes, hair blowing and obscuring her sight.

Sesshomaru was only seconds from reaching Rin when she was suddenly picked up from Ah-Un. The wind lifted her from the scaled dragon, and Sesshomaru watched, slightly perturbed as Rin was whisked away.

Without a second thought, he pulled out Bakusaiga, destroying the snow demon in one foul swoop. Then dashed through the sky to find Rin.

When he reached her, she was giggling like the teen she was, no worries and absolutely confident that her lord would save her, despite any consequences that might occur.

So, after finding them a safe place to set camp, Sesshomaru left Rin to her own devices. Jaken had mysteriously found his way back, tasking himself to protect the one human his lord concerned himself with.

Moments later, Sesshomaru found himself at the site of the fight again, and a familiar scent returned.

Closing his silver lashes, breathing the sweet aroma, a familiar name escaped him …“Kagura.”

The wind picked up, swirling like a storm around him, then he heard her.

“Sesshomaru~.”

His muscles tensed, “show yourself.”

A moment passed where he felt the breeze slither and caress him.

“I am always here,” it seemed to whisper.

It was almost teasing. Sesshomaru had never felt anything quite like it before.

“Come to me.”

A beat passed. “I can not,” she murmured.

A strange feeling squeezed within him, something he had never felt before. Something right above his sternum, his heart.

His features hardened. “It is an order,” he demanded.

He could almost feel her smirk around him. “No one,” she breathed, “can control the wind.”

And just like that, she was gone.

___________________________

Kagura always showed up when he least expected her to.

He was a Daiyoukai. Yet she constantly made her presence known, despite him always being minutes away from saving his ward and dispatching parasitic vermin.

She continued to tease him relentlessly. “The wind will not be restrained,” she whispered in the breeze.

And it felt like a challenge. For anything and anyone, Sesshomaru strived to control what he wanted. Yet, when moments passed without her, he would remember the last time he witnessed her corporeal form…when he had tried to save her, when his Tessaiga had failed him. When he had failed her.

Numerous women had proposed to be his, yet Kagura had only ever asked for his help, and when he had finally relented to assist her. He had come upon her, dissolving into a field of flowers. Becoming one with the wind, becoming her true self.

So then, why did he feel like she was haunting him: her scent, her voice, her energy?

Or was it him haunting her?

________________

Years had passed. It felt like a millenium.

Rin was a full fledged adult, a mother of two, the wife of Kohaku. It was the first time Sesshomaru had ever found himself counting time. Humans were fleeting, and she was growing at a speed he had not become accustomed to. Her children were the size of her when she had first stumbled upon him.

They sat on a hill, watching her offspring and husband frolic and picking flowers.

“Thank you for always looking after us, my Lord.”

Sesshomaru didn’t deem it necessary to reply. His silence is always enough for Rin.

He didn’t require mortal sustenance, but it was peaceful as he watched ahead. Rin ate small delicacies he brought her, humming whenever a particular bite sweetened her mouth. The children laughed as Kohaku chased them around, trying to catch butterflies with their tiny hands. He was content.

“Say, Sesshomaru-sama.”

“Hn?”

He closed his eyes, relaxing as he spread his aura out, scaring any decrepit demons away.

Rin paused for a moment, her hesitance clear her hands rubbed softly together. “Are… are you lonely?”

Something in his chest tightened, and he found that he could not answer. Lonely? A creature such as he need not feel such human emotions. He almost scoffed.. but the tightness persisted. And he found himself wondering at how restless he was becoming. Lingering over his land like a ghost, looking for new challenges, new conquests, and finding none.

He liked to be alone. He cherished his solitude. So why did her question disturb him so?

A shriek stole their attention, little limbs waving frantically as a child lost footing on a branch. Kohaku had been distracted by their other offspring and was too far to catch her. Rin screamed out her name, getting up and running wildly to her. Sesshomaru was already flying towards the toddler, his speed faster than anyone could see. Yet before he could reach her, the wind picked up, speeding past him, his eyes oweld in recognition, his steps faltering as he took in a deep breath of the familiar scent. And before their very eyes, the girl was swept up, twirled up in a loop, and deposited softly onto the ground.

Sesshomaru was rooted to his spot, watching and mind going as Rin cried and fretted over her child, both parents making sure she was okay.

After a moment, Rin decided that was enough excitement for one day, and packed up their things to be on their way. “What…” she whispered so only he could hear, “what was that?” She folded a blanket and put it neatly in her basket. “I swear that has happened to me before. Something saved me too, anytime I fell from somewhere too high up.” She turned concerned eyes his way.

Sesshomaru stood with all the indifference in the world, his golden eyes suddenly serious. “Kagura,” he said simply.

“What?” Rin did not recognize the name.

“This Sesshomaru is not alone,” he finally said, leaving her in the clearing unsettled and perturbed.

He was not alone, Kagura was always there. So then, why did her question linger with him for months to come?

________________

“You are being haunted!” An old cackling woman screeched at him, pointing her gnarled finger his way.

He eyed the digit distastefully, golden eyes narrowing. “You wish for your limb to be severed,” he concluded morbidly.

“The wind moves about you unnaturally!” She continued, not a care in the world that she was about to be mauled to pieces.

Sesshomaru felt a rage bubble up within him. Yes, he knew Kagura was there. She was always there, but always beyond his grasp. The Great Demon Lord of the West could do anything but this. It infuriated him to a degree he thought previously unfathomable. More so than when he had ever wanted the Tessaiga before. His arm tensed as his resentment grew.

“Quiet you vile woman!” Jaken squawked, waving his staff around and aiming to strike her.

And so she did, the old woman going eerily still, her wispy hair the only thing moving in the dark forest. Her silver, half blind eyes stared blankly ahead. “Go,” she muttered, “go to the Whispering Wood, and you shall find her there.”

The daiyoukai’s eyes dilated at the information. “The Whispering Wood,” he repeated. “It’s location.”

But with a woosh, the breath left the grizzled woman’s lungs, and she fell to a heap on the ground. A corpse to be consumed by the forest floor.

________________

In mere days he had reached Bakuseno. It took the old tree demon longer than expected to wake, so Sesshomaru pulled out his *kiseru and lazily smoked it, watching as it smoldered into different shapes.

Finally, a face formed on the rough bark before him. “Ah, Sesshomaru. What brings you here?” Bakuseno smiled, wrinkles around his eyes and mouth showing his age. “How is your human girl doing? And Inuyasha?”

Sesshomaru ignored him. “Where is the Whispering Wood?”

Bakusno’s branches swayed with mirth. “As direct as ever, I see.”

“I have wasted my time.” Sesshomaru replied, ashing his kiseru and rising deftly to his feet.

The old spirit of the forest sighed. “I have aided your ancestors for ages,” his voice grew nostalgic. “Grant this desolate creature at least an anecdote of your sibling before I wither away. The days grow long, and I sense myself fading.” Sesshomaru stopped as he contemplated his request. “If not him, then of you.”

So Sesshomaru told him of Inuyasha, of how he had settled down with a priestess in a human village and had whelped a quarter demon girl. He found his lips running from him, and soon enough, he was divulging his occurrences with his adopted daughter, the wind sorceress, and why he seeked the Whispering Wood.

When the tale was over, Bakuseno questioned him further not. “Travel south from here. Until the trees thicken over with fog and you can no longer see the hand before you. The Wood will whisper to you and send you to where you long to be.”

Sesshomaru almost left the tree without another word, but hesitated. Giving him one last gilded glance, he saw the old spirit’s eyes grow heavy with fatigue. It seemed this would be the last he would ever witness his wise soul again.

So he faced him fully, and bowed his head respectfully. “Bakuseno, you have served this clan well. You have our everlasting gratitude.” Silver strands blew over his pristine face. Sesshomaru missed the shock that overcame Bakuseno, and then the warm smile that replaced it as his face faded away. His branches swayed in pleasure as Sesshomaru finally set off to his final destination, the Whispering Wood.

________________

A silver jewel thundered through the sky, dashing to the South faster than the eye could see. Sesshomaru cut his travel time in half in this form, using all his energy to fly faster than lightning. As soon as he reached the southern border, he could hear her. Kagura’s winds joined him, urging him quicker than he was already going. Her soft chuckles echoed around him. His aura flared with anticipation.

Her scent guided his direction, and before he knew it, he exploded through a thick gray fog in the trees, his jeweled form pushing the mist away in a burst of power.

He then plunged to the ground. The mist erupted around him from such a volatile entrance. As it settled, he stood in his humanoid form, mokomoko gracefully over one shoulder and completely unperturbed. He felt Kagura’s wind caress his face, his neck, his sleeves. Then she whispers, “welcome to the Whispering Wood, Sesshomaru.” And with that, she was gone.

In her place arose sprites from the trees, from the ground, and from the haze covered rivers that rushed through the woodland. They laughed merrily as they danced around him. Their bodies glowed like fireflies, their wings shimmered like dragonflies, and they left small wisping trails of greens and pinks behind them. Their eyes consumed almost their whole face, no sclera in sight.

He squinted his golden gaze, perturbed by the sudden turn of events.

The sprites giggled around him, playing with his silver locks and twirling between the strands. “Why have you entered our realm?” Their voices were so small, but together they spoke louder with mirth.

“Where is she?” He entertained killing them on the spot for indulging themselves so familiarly with his body. But he needed information. So he decided to yield to them, at least until he received what he needed.

“She?” They sang. “There are so many she’s!”

His claws twitched, a throb forming at his temple. He was so close. “Kagura,” he divulged, his patience wearing thin. “Where is she?”

“Ah,” they floated above his head in excitement, their movements fast as they sped away from him, “follow us!” They flew. “The Wind Sorceress is this way!”

Not even a blink and they were already several yards away. After the slight shock, Sesshomaru moved a step behind them, dashing through shrubbery, trunks, uprooted roots, and branches. Some sprites slowed down beside him, laughing and playing with his furs. They whispered into his pointed ear.

“What will you give her?”

“One needs to sacrifice.”

“Will you prove your worth?”

“The wind will not be commanded.”

They were suddenly before a cliff. The wind roared louder than anything he heard before. Rushing up a mountain side and pushing violently against anything that came near it. Before the cliff were pillars. The sprites swirled, danced, and landed on them.

“Altars for your gifts,” they explained.

But Sesshomaru had no gifts. A beat passed, his patience at its wits end, he turned from the area, committing it to memory as he began to hunt for the woman that continued to torment his every waking moment.

Several moons had cycled when Sesshomaru finally found himself before the altars again. “Stand aside.” His only warning to the sprites before he unfurled his aura, the gust of his power blew his hair back, and it cleared the area from any mist hindering his view.

Past the altars, he saw Kagura sleeping on the cliff’s edge, held up by her own overpowering winds. A knot stole his voice. She was so close, her head back, almost as if she were reclined on a mountain of pillows. Her hair loose, covering just past her breasts. She was ethereal, exquisite, even elegant as she slept, her bare skin glistened in the sunlight.

The sprites screeched at his display. They moved behind him to watch the impossible. Their dear Wind Sorceress with her first disciple.

“This Sesshomaru bears gifts.” His voice boomed deeply through her hurricanes. Yet she did not stir. He stepped forth to her altars and emptied his cupped hands atop one, “emeralds, your preferred jewels.” They tumbled onto the stoned surface, the smooth gems clinking and green like the earth, the ones she always wore as earrings in a delicate row that trailed down her silken neck.

The wind suddenly turned direction, belting over the jewels, picking them up and swirling them around her sleeping form.

Sesshomaru cleared his throat at the display, unused to the swell of emotion it brought forth from him. So he stepped to the next altar, and placed two feathers on its surface. “Ornaments.. for your hair,” he said a note quieter. The wind shifted again, and before it could gather the two feathers, he unfurled his mokomoko. It billowed before him, and feathers erupted from its surface like an explosion of water against a seashore. The wind gathered it greedily, bringing it to Kagura’s sleeping form, twisting feathers and beads about her like a shield.

The Daiyoukai stepped before the last altar, a clawed hand bringing a delicate butterfly to stand upon its surface. “Your favored creature,” he declared. The insect carefully opened and closed its pink and black wings. “A symbol of your death,” he swallowed, “and rebirth.”

That moment was life changing for him. Someone he could not save. Someone he had failed. Someone he had respected too late, escaping his clawed hands in the most morbid and beautiful way. Her life’s blood stained the purity of the flowers around her, before she deteriorated into her truest form.

The cliff’s winds softened, and he opened his arms, butterflies escaping his sleeves by the thousands.

“One final gift,” the sprites whispered approvingly. “A life for a life.” Said the spirits of the Whispering Wood.

Before Sesshomaru could comprehend what he was doing, he was already leaping and flying to her. He broke through the barrier of gifts that swirled around her, and wrapped one arm around her back, cradling her head in the crook of his elbow, his hand gripping her waist. He found himself admiring her sharp features, the curve of her nose, the pink strip above her lid, the perfectly sculpted bangs above her brow, the lovely bow of her crimson lips. Without a second thought, he lifted his free arm, his sleeve dropping to reveal pale skin with magenta stripes.

“This Sesshomaru offers himself to you, Kagura.” His eyes softened.

At that moment, his daughter's words echoed quietly through his mind. ‘Sesshomaru-sama, are you lonely?’

His silver lashes lowered, and he whispered into Kagura’s pointed ear, “you will forever be free ."

He pulled his face quickly away, its features turned something fierce, the stripes on his cheeks now jagged. Lips curved maddenly over his teeth, and he sunk his jaw into his powerful arm, biting fiercely as he observed her sleeping form. He drew in his blood, filling his mouth so much that when he pulled away, blood dripped from both corners, and he kissed her; opening her mouth with the power of his own, he gave her his life's essence. Once finished, he pulled back, watching her for any signs of life.

Yet there was none. Panicked, he sank himself into his arm, over and over, giving more of himself to her. Was it the poison that coursed through his veins? Was it his breed?

He suddenly felt faint, the world spun as he continued to feed her.

“Kagura,” he whispered. Had he given too much of himself? Would this even work?

It did not matter. He would not give up.

Eyes growing heavy, he rubbed his drenched forehead against hers, “come to me.”

His bangs stuck to his skin, yet he cared not for that, and he filled his mouth with himself one last time before giving her all he had left. A fog slowly crept into the recesses of his mind, and his lips descended to her crimson ones. His limbs grew slack, his head felt heavy. He almost succumbed to his frailty when a warmth spread over his arms, his shoulders, his neck. Claws scraped softly at the base of his head.

A warm breath ghosted over his lips. “Sesshomaru?” It was so quiet, he almost missed it.

His senses struggled to focus. “Kagura?”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, drawing herself closer. He didn’t hear the winds calming or their bodies and gifts landing gently to the ground below. “It took longer to return to you than expected.”

“Will that suffice?” He interrupted her, body curving over hers, protecting and exhausted.

“Yes,” her magenta eyes sparkled, her lips smiling a way they never had before. “More than enough.”

“That is,” he sighed, golden eyes forcing themselves open to finally witness her own crimson ones, his silver curtain of hair surrounding them, “acceptable.”

Kagura blushed, a dear sight he refused to forget, along with the laugh that held no malice. Perhaps, perhaps this would be enough. Seeing her one last time. Possibly… he could possibly beseech her to continue watching over Rin.

The breath left him in a woosh, and he closed his eyes again, the blackness returning to the edges of his mind. “Be free,” he said quietly in his deep undertones, “and Rin-”

“Speak no more,” Kagura rushed, pulling herself over him. Strength zapped, Sesshomaru fell in a heap to his back, his vanilla fur softened his landing. The Wind Sorceress draped herself on him like a blanket. She whispered over his lips, “it was enough. You are enough.” She smiled, tears running down her cheeks as she kissed him, filling his lungs with air, and his body with a newly transformed energy of their mingled youkai - an almost mated pair.

He had proven himself. The gifts had shown he knew her, remembered every little nuance about her, her interests, her deeply cherished freedom. The very last part of his sacrifice had been out of her control. For, to bring back a life always required some kind of sacrifice, and he had sacrificed himself.

Her boundless energy and strength filled him, the sprites of the Whispering Wood released them both from their fae driven spells. Kagura was free, and now so was Sesshomaru.

His body rushed with all the energy in the world. Golden eyes grew wide, lungs suddenly breathing in Kagura’s scent as deep as they could, his claws twitched, and he immediately latched to her bare hips, his other hand pulling her impossibly closer by the back of her neck. Eyes closing and lips pushing back up to her. Feathers, butterflies, and emeralds swirling in a vortex around them.

Finally, they were together, and free.

________________

Kiseru - a long Japanese smoking pipe.

[feebledetective]

@ahogedetective [ x ]

-- It was so hard for him to try to convince himself that it was just a nightmare, and Kyou is right there. He's even holding her close, and yet it still felt as if something bad might happen. This was so ridiculous and he knows it, if only he could even control his anxiety right now.

 He couldn't talk, he just tightened the hug as he buried his face on her shoulder. Occasionally he would hitch his breath against her neck. " K-K...K-Kyou... " Seiji quietly and weakly whimpered, it sounded as if he was muffling through her shoulder, and he was hoping she would try to calm him down. --