#imagine warm blood dripping down your FOREHEAD

[captainzigo]

KNIFE PONY!!!!?

i don’t know what you mean so here’s this guy

completely divorced from my little pony, always been fascinated by the idea of unicorns sword fighting with their horns. the sword being their head, the primal violence of the biological weapon, not to mention the homoeroticism.

anyway, this is probably someone’s minion. like a get ‘em boys type of guy

[osachiyo]

" LEMME HIT YOU WITH THAT DUMB DICK ! "

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — dazai, chuuya, jouno (+ tecchou), oda, sigma x fem!reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 & 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — [n]sfw content, somnophilia, these are random scenarios ok don't come at me, degradation, humiliation, doggystyle, rough, getting caught, pussy slapping, s.ex at work, oral (m & f receiving), fingering, piv, unprotected s.ex (be careful babes), praise, creampie + etc • this was originally supposed to be their fav places to fuck but i had to scrap that bc i lost motivation :') anyway, happy reading and i hope you enjoy !! not proofread soz babes

ps. reblog to show your favorite writers support, they're greatly appreciated ! <3

⁰¹ 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 — fucking you in a storage room of the agency

This man is a sex fiend, so of course he would love to fuck you literally anywhere anytime. Though he can't lie, being balls deep in your juicy little cunt at work — risking both of your dignities and possibly your jobs has him harder than a fucking rock.

"Osamu— what if we g-get caugh— mmh-!" you let out a muffled moan as dazai delivered a particularly harsh thrust into your cunt, effectively shutting you up. "Relaaaax, sweet thing — almost no one c-comes here — fuck, you're so damn tight," Dazai panted into your ear, hot breath making a chill run down your spine — back arching even further against his chest.

"God, you're so good f'me — so warm 'n right, fuck!" each word was rushed, dripping with lust — the desperation in his voice made you wanna look at his pretty face, pussy clenching just from imagining how good he'd look with his hair disheveled — his usual doe eyes narrowed and a deep blush covering his skin, sweat dripping down his forehead and making his hair stick to his forehead —

Your train of thought got cut off abruptly when Dazai slapped his hand over your mouth, before his hushed voice reached your ears, "shh, stay still f'me, sweetheart."

You were about to question it when you heard the president's voice from just behind the door. The door of the room you were currently getting your back blown out in.

"Yes, I keep hearing strange noises from this one room in particular," you heard fukuzawa's muffled voice — the thought of your boss catching you in the act made your pussy flutter around Dazai’s length, making the brunette grunt in response.

"Are you trying to get us caught, darl'?" Dazai hissed into your ear — oops, you unintentionally clenched down again upon hearing the keys jingle from the other side of the door. Luckily Dazai was ready for it this time, and managed to bite down on your shoulder before he could get a sound out.

"W-what do we do, 'samu? He’s gonna come in!" you whisper-yelled, panic settling in your bones when you saw the doorknob rattle — but before he could unlock the door fully, you heard the high pitched voice of another worker, "president! an important client has come to personally see you."

"Hm, alright. looks like i'll have to tell someone else to take a look in this room later. Let’s go,"

You let out a breath of relief once the footsteps faded away, leaving you both in complete silence until dazai decided to speak up —

"You clenched reaaal hard when he was about to open the door — don't tell me you actually wanted us to get caught, did you, naughty girl?"

⁰² 𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 — having you suck him off in his office

Chuuya's job as an executive of the mafia is stressful, to say the least. Not to mention some of the idiotic workers not doing their job right never fails to make his blood pressure go especially high — his anger issues doesn't help his case at all. But what does help is his sweet sweet girlfriend giving him some... 'under the table service' at work.

Chuuya's fist slammed against the hardwood desk, a loud 'thwack!' echoing in the room,

"What the fuck were you thinking?!" he sneered at the poor man in front of him — who couldn't help but flinch at seeing his boss so angry at him failing to complete a simple report.

Truth be told, Chuuya wasn’t really that mad at the worker, for the report at least — he was just.. super on edge from you deep-throating his cock under the goddamn table. He struggled to think properly, and the poor worker interrupting his private moment with you really ticked him off. Can you really blame him though?

How could he think straight with your skilled tongue swirling around his glossy tip so sinfully — fucking tease. Oh and the way you peered up at him through lowered lashes, your eyes glazed with a dreamy haze.

It all made his head spin like crazy.

“-ir, I can re-do it if you would like me to..” Chuuya’s train of thought unfortunate got cut off short, blue eyes snapping back to the man before him — right, the report.

“A-ahem — alright. Have it finished by 6 pm.”

Chuuya hated the way his voice cracked, fingernails digging into the palms of his hands as he tried not to moan out loud when you fully took him nose deep in that right, sweet little throat— shamelessly rutting your hips into his crazy expensive slacks, rubbing your juices all over the smooth, polished material.

You felt Chuuya’s fingers entangle themselves in your hair immediately after hearing the ‘click’ of the door shutting — the guy must’ve finally left.

You couldn’t help but gasp as you were pulled up from the cold, hard floor — and being shoved onto the desk instead.

You felt your pussy throb in your lacy panties as Chuuya spread your legs open — two fingers pressing and prodding at your cunt before sliding the flimsy material to the side,

“Now, let’s get into the real fun, shall we darl’?”

⁰³ 𝐉𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐎 — teaching tecchou how to eat you out properly

Jouno was a good friend. Even though he might've had a tendency to be a little harsh and.. sadistic at times, he wasn't a bad person. I mean, he had to be atleast a decent person for teaching his inexperienced co-worker how to eat pussy — specifically, his own girlfriend's.

"No, not like that you fucking idiot —" Jouno grumbled, pulling Tecchou's head off of your cunt as he blinked in confusion like a lost puppy, sticky strings of your arousal still attached to his lips. "What do you mean? She's clearly enjoying it.."

"I mean that you can do better. You do want to make her feel fuckin' amazing, don't you?" Jouno raised a questioning brow. "Well, of cour—" "Then start acting like it."

A gasp left your honeyed lips when Tecchou's face was pushed back against your cunt — hot tongue working with even more fervor as he ate you out like he had been starving for days.

"Oh fuck — feels so g-good, sai," you whimpered out — head thrown back and your tongue threatening to loll out from the sheer pleasure the man between your legs was giving you. "Yeah, baby? Feels good when Tecchou eats that sweet cunt out reaaaaal good, huh?" Jouno's tone was condescending — his lips curled up into a cocky smirk.

“Y’smell so sweet - taste so sweet -” Tecchou's voice was low and dripping with need — your pussy throbbed from just how desperate he sounded.

"A-ah shit - can feel you throbbin' on my tongue, princess —" he groaned, tongue flattening against your clit as he shook his head side to side.

You babbled out Jouno’s name like a prayer — all while the man between your legs worshipped your cunt like it was his god, pink tongue repeatedly flicking your clit, making you see stars as your hole stretched around two of his slim fingers.

“Please — wanna c-cum s’ba- mmh!- ,” you let out a strangled noise as a harsh slap landed on your soaked pussy, clit throbbing as you threw your head back once more. “Fuckin’ slut, so damn eager to cum on another man’s tongue in front of your boyfriend, hmm?”

“Don’t — ah fuck, squeezin’ so tight ‘round my fingers, baby - don’t be so mean, Jouno,” Tecchou threw a side glare to the man next to him, which only earned a shrug from said man, “quit talking and enjoy the meal, dumbass. She’s close.”

And enjoy the meal he did — lapping up every single drop of your sweet juices so enthusiastically you’d think that he hadn’t eaten in days.

⁰⁴ 𝐎𝐃𝐀 — morning sex with him

Mornings with your husband, Oda Sakunosuke, were sweet, blissful and filled with love. Sometimes he'd surprise you with breakfast in bed, it's the least he can do considering everything that you do for him, is what he says. But sometimes — you crave him instead of the delicious food.

“My pretty girl,” Oda smiled sleepily, moving some of your hair out of your face to admire your effortless beauty — blissfully unaware to how his deep morning voice made your heart flutter in your chest, and your pussy throb with need.

You grinned back, scooting closer into his arms as you gazed into his deep brown eyes, “pretty enough to fuck?”

Oda raised a questioning eyebrow, full lips curling into a grin, "oh? that's the game we're playing, love?" Strong arms wrapped around your bare figure, the marks of last night still fresh on your skin — a reminder to how he fucked you dumb on his cock only a few hours prior.

You felt your face burn from the memories of last night rushing back into you — god, you two were insatiable - you're sure Oda fucked you in every single position in the book, and it did nothing but make you crave him more.

"Still with me, darling?" he lightly tapped your cheek, snapping you back to the present. You nodded, a gasp falling from your lips as big, calloused hands found themselves groping at your tits, pinching at your cute nipples as he pressed open mouthed kisses on your neck — his stubble tickling the sensitive skin there.

"O-oda—"

"shhh, baby — lemme do all the work, yeah?"

And that's how you ended up with your face pressed into the pillows — silken bedsheets tangled around your bodies as Oda fucked his fat girth into your sopping cunt nice 'n deep.

A large hand was pressing your back into the meanest arch ever — strong hips slamming against the fat of your plush ass with each deep thrust, thick mushroom tip prodding at your g-spot - making you bleat out your husband's name pitifully. Oda only pushed your head deeper into the soft pillows — clearly too lost in the feeling of your velvety walls clenching around him.

He watched his cock slipped in and out of your pussy so easily — your slick covering his balls down to his thighs. Oda groaned deeply in his throat as he watched a creamy ring form around the base of his cock — your cunt sucking him in so eagerly that he almost thought it hurt for you to let him go.

You let out a particularly loud moan as Oda's cock hit that one spot in you — you could only bite down on the pillow as your eyes shut closed, pussy slobbering shamelessly all over his length.

"Oh? Did you like— argh! - t-that spot, sweet girl?"

⁰⁵ 𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐌𝐀 — fucking you in your sleep

Sigma was a busy man — with running the sky casino and being part of the decay of angels didn't leave too much alone time with just him and you — especially for some.. intimacy. You knew he needed to relieve himself someway — all that workload while being pent up as fuck certainly wasn't good for him. Plus, you have been craving him as well.. so you came up with an easy solution.

The door to your shared bedroom clicked open — your beloved boyfriend, Sigma, letting himself in as his eyes racked over the entire room, searching for anything out of the ordinary — you did tell him that you had a surprise for him, after all.

Upon finding nothing, he stalked over to the bed, confusion lacing his features as he glanced over at your sleeping form. Slender hands slowly slipped the soft blanket off of you and oh —

It all clicked suddenly.

The lavender coloured lace suited your complexion so perfectly, the expensive material hugging your features like it was made for you. Sigma gulped, eyes fixating on the way your tits were practically spilling out of the flimsy fabric — your stiff nipples very much visible to his hungry gaze.

It wasn't long before he had his face buried between your plush thighs — Sigma was so desperate, not even bothering to take the lingerie off your body. Besides, why would he when you just looked way too good in it?

He was practically eating you out through the thin lace — nose bumping against your clothed clit as his tongue tried to push deeper into your cunt. You had him in a chokehold — but he couldn't care less.

Sigma's slim hips were rutting into the expensive sheets — precum leaking from his sensitive tip as he tried his best not to cum untouched just from tasting your sweet pussy, but fuck, you were making it so hard for him.

He felt his cock throb in his pants when you started letting out soft moans and sighs in your sleep — or were you even asleep anymore? He didn't know and neither did he care — mind too focused on making you cum on his pretty face.

"ohh s-shit — best surprise - sluurrp - e-ever—" he whined into your cunt, spitting directly into your sticky hole before slurping it all back up.

Safe to say, he definitely enjoyed your little surprise.

© 𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐘𝐎 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 ─ do not copy/translate/repost and/or recommend any of my works on different platfroms under any circumstances. reblogs greatly appreciated !

[soulwrencher]

Hi!!!! I don’t know if you take request.. but I can’t stop thinking about vi coming home from the gym, or reader going to meet vi at her gym? But her sweaty abs? Those back muscles? Those arms? 😩 and vi just being so smug about it because she knows the effect she has on reader 😭

yesss i like this! note: i don't really workout at the gym (embarrassing i know...), so if this is super unrealistic just... gawk over her body! be horny!

also you should totally read this by my fav writer ever if you haven't already, you'll be OBSESSED. kisses n hugs @vampiefemme 😘

1, 2, 3, 4,... were you counting your own reps or vi's? your mouth was practically on the floor, eyes ogling at her back from afar. there's quite the distance between you and where she is working out at, but that doesn't stop you from dislocating your neck to watch her do pull-downs.

there is just something about the way she's built, tattoo climbing down her neck as well as the usually headache inducing overhead lights making the sweat on her traps shine, and her big, to drool over, triceps. and fuck were they moving with every pull too, actively flexing underneath her drenched tank top. absolutely soaked, (you or her?) vi takes her tank top off, you almost slam the weights. feeling the blood rush through your body from the embarrassment of just almost pissing people off (and the fact that you've been staring for full 5 minutes), your mind carries you away, to your bed, underneath vi, who's doing pushups over you and then smiles at you, how dreamy.

and then she smiles at you. wait, what? a small but very potent 'fuck' escapes your mouth. she's done with her sets and quickly redirects her focus to cleaning the machine.

vi is grinning like an idiot, it's hard to stay oblivious when she literally felt something (your pretty eyes) burning into her back. and besides, it was super hot watching you too. she overthrew her whole workout routine just because of 8 little words:

'heyyy i heard you go to the gym?☺️'

it took her an hour to reply, Yeahhh I do, erase, We should go together, erase, I think you're really cute, erase, I'm going this Friday you wanna join me cutie? send. vi wasn't stupid, it takes two to play a game. and you were going to lose.

"you looked distracted," vi chuckles, sweat dripping down her forehead.

slam. "oh god, that startled me, haha." you look around, 'i'm sorry' plastering your whole face. you feel the heat rush up into your head and accumulating there. what the hell.

"is it fun watching me?" she continues. she's facing you, arm stretched out and resting on the leather of your seat. you're fucked.

"i was just trying to see when you're done—" you pause to look at her, but vi's eyes are elsewhere, further down, was she checking you out?

"—not sure if i'm doing this right," you say as your eyes wander to her stretched out arm, suddenly you feel warmth spreading from in between your thighs...

she hums in response, scoff-laugh following. vi gathered that you weren't going to lose easily.

"can i?" she asks and you nod, hot palms adjusting your foot placement on the board. you like how her hands feel, they were rough and calloused but still so, so warm.

you press against the board, small grunts and groans escaping your lips. fuck, you sound a little too good, vi totally did not just imagine all possible (well, rather a small selection) of scenarios where you'd make exactly those noises.

she tries to distract herself from her thoughts where you are moaning her name, so she strokes your left hamstring to make sure you're... to make sure what exactly? you immediately look up, but the way vi is looking at you... you can't help but get lost in her eyes, you wanted her to get lost in you. and she couldn't ignore the throbbing that was practically begging to be taken care of from just looking at you and touching your skin.

one thing leads to another and her fingers are filling you up and pumping into you as slick gushes out from the sides of her fingers. iiiiin the bathroom of the women's locker room. gross, absolutely, but you're too busy trying to swallow your moans.

"not sure if i'm doing this right." vi whispers into your ear. you roll your eyes, she's obviously mocking your awful attempt at covering up the fact that you were staring.

"'doing, mhmmmh, just fine," you slur.

fuck, you were driving vi insane. she throws her head back, hard nipples graze against the fabric of your workout top as she thrusts her body against yours, pressing your back against the stall wall. and she's still inside you, vi is still curling her fingers against the walls of your gaping cunt. you dig your nails into vi's back, "more," you whisper.

"fuck, i—" vi slowly slides out her fingers, you successfully flustered her, she's completely worked up, cute. and then, seemingly out of nowhere, she brushes a lose strand behind your ear, it feels like you're dripping onto the gym floor. kinda gross, but whatever, because vi's hand is right there where you want it, cupping your face.

"let me take you to my place," she then says, voice low. she watches a small smile appear on your face. "sure, show me your home workouts," you wink, causing vi to turn the same color as her hair.

got you.

[pasukiyo]

DAYDREAM

college baseball player!leon kennedy x f!reader word count; 2,675 warnings; oral (f receiving), this one really just gets right to the point tbh lol, leon's kind of an fboy summary; just get your notes back from leon. it's not going to be difficult, right? all you have to do is walk in, don't get distracted by how ridiculously sexy he looks swinging a bat, ask for them back, and leave!

 She tightens the grip she has on the strap of her bag as she pushes open the door to the batting cages and immediately, the sound of a metal bat against a baseball echoes and rattles her brain. She winces but presses forward, willing herself to breathe as she walks down past empty cages until she finally finds the one Leon Kennedy is in. He doesn’t see her, for he’s in his batting stance, completely focused on the self-serving pitching machine before him.  

 He’s in a dark-colored, short-sleeved muscle tee and gray athletic sweatpants, and although she’s not one to stare, she can see beads of sweat drip down the bulging muscles of his biceps, even from where she stands. She cannot see his face, as his back is turned to her, but she can imagine his lips as they press together, his dark brows knit together in concentration. Her skin begins to burn and the pitching machine releases a ball and she watches as he hits it with ease, sending it hurling towards the back net of the cage. 

 She’s suddenly frozen in her place, unable to tear her eyes away from him as he uses his hand, covered in a batting glove, to wipe sweat from his forehead, swinging his bat in a circular motion to get back into position for the next pitch. She stares at him like she’s in some sort of trance and all she can think about is how big his arms are, how strong he is and how she’d love for him to use that strength on her…

 She tries to shake the thoughts away herself, but it is the sound of Leon Kennedy’s voice that breaks her from her trance altogether. 

 “Oh, you’re here.”

 She flinches and color warms her cheeks as she realizes he’s looking at her now as he exits the cage, undoing the Velcro of his batting gloves and tossing them on the bench. She’s unsure what to do with herself and she tries to avoid meeting his gaze, shifting uncomfortably where she stands. 

 “Yeah, I’m… I’m, um, here for the… for the—“

 “The notes?”

 “Mhmm,” she hums, nodding and god, she wishes the universe would just mistake her for a corpse and claim her into temporary unconsciousness. She wrings the strap of her bag and steals a swift glance towards Leon as he eyes her from over the rim of his water bottle, the corner of his lips curled up in a smirk. She looks away again as he sets his water down, digging through his backpack. 

 “Thanks for letting me borrow them,” he says as he finally fishes them out, outstretching them towards her. She can see her notebook dangling from Leon’s hand just from the top of her vision and she dips her chin, taking a cautious step forward. 

 “I hope they helped,” she says, reaching forward to grab her notes. Before she can reach them, however, he pulls away, the grin on his lips widening. She blinks up at him, feeling smaller than she felt before and embarrassed, unsure how to take up space. She decides to clasp a hand around her wrist, uncertain what she should say.

 “Yeah, you know…” he begins, dropping the notebook to rest in the crook of his arm, peeling open the cover and flipping through pages. “…I really appreciated all the little doodles and stuff in the margins.”

 There’s a moment where everything seems to freeze and all she can hear is her heartbeat drumming in her ears and all she can feel is the sweat collecting at her hairline as it begins to fall down the sides of her face. Realization comes in the form of blood biting her cheeks and when Leon sees the moment she realizes, he tries his hardest to stifle his laugh, pressing his lips together. 

 And god, all she can think about is either melting into a pile of sludge at their feet and crawling away like a snail or screaming ‘fuck it’ while pulling his lips into her because it’s just not fair when he looks like that. Instead, she tries reaching for the notebook again, alas, her efforts are in vain. 

 Her hands fall to her sides and she huffs, again, trying to look anywhere but at him. “Can you give it back?” She asks quietly, surprised she was even able to speak at all. She dares a glance up at him to find he’s already peeking up at her, a mischievous gleam in that dark ocean in his eyes that she isn’t sure whether to drop to her knees or slap him in the face for. 

 “What? It’s cute,” he snickers, flipping the notebook over, and pointing his finger to the corner of one of the pages. “I especially like the little heart you drew at the end of my name here.”

 She blinks and nearly whimpers in mortification as she once again tries to snatch the notebook from his hand, but he raises his arm, using his other to draw her in closer by the small of her back. She yelps when her chest meets his and suddenly, they’re close, too close. She can feel his breath loom over her face like rolling smoke and his stare bears down on her body, making her stomach twist into knots. 

 She’s all too aware of his hand pressing against her back, of his body against hers, of her heartbeat thudding against his chest. She’s so close that it would feel awkward for their eyes not to meet but oh, how she wishes she couldn’t at this moment. 

All she saw now in his eyes was the embodiment of a bad idea, all she could see was desire and temptation and trouble. And she was a good girl, she always played by the rules, never got into any fights, or trouble with anyone. But she looks up at Leon now and wonders if she could go on just daydreaming about him any longer. She wonders what it would be like to try him out, to feel him closer than he is now, to taste him and be tasted by him. 

 Leon’s eyes flicker to her lips, and his mouth twitches. He already has her hooked, and he’s hardly touched her, much less even spoken to her. It gives him the confidence he needs to say, “you’ll need to work a little harder if you want this back.”

 Suddenly, the notebook doesn’t seem all that important to her anymore. Her gaze fleets to his lips and she hesitates, glancing back up at him. Leon’s patience runs on a very thin line, and the frayed edges of its rope are at its end so when it snaps, he pounces. 

 He lets go of the notebook and it falls to the floor with a loud smack and both of his arms are around her now, drawing her into him. Their lips meet and it’s something she’s only ever dreamed about, and it’s new and exhilarating and all she can think about is how she wants more. 

 She whimpers against his mouth as his tongue swirls against hers and his lips are a crescent against hers, one of his hands bracing itself on the side of her neck. He draws her in nearer as the other roams down the side of her body, down past the curve of her hip, to the waistband of her jeans. She can feel the sweat on his chest through his shirt and her hands brace themselves on his forearms, her palms slick with his perspiration. 

 The pads of his fingers circle her waist, tracing the line of her jeans, stopping when they reach the button. She mewls against his lips and pulls away from him, chasing air into her lungs. Leon dips his chin to find her gaze and when she allows him to, his pink, kiss-swollen lips curve. 

 “We don’t have to keep going,” He says breathlessly, and there’s something so attractive about the way he says it, with his chest heaving up and down, his voice thick and deep enough to jellify her knees. It’s hard to make sense of anything when her head swirls like a violent tempest, but what’s for certain is there’s a spark igniting between her legs, and only Leon Kennedy could be the one to quell it. “Do you want to stop?”

 Her lips buzz with the phantom of his kiss and all she can do is shake her head, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck to draw him back in. Their lips clash together like two waves in a storm and Leon’s hands are back on her hips, fumbling with the button of her jeans as his kisses trail down her face to her jaw, then to her neck. 

 She’s burning, and Leon’s like coal, stoking her flame. He’s unzipping her jeans as he backs her up towards the bench, taking her skin between his lips and sucking dark bruises into the crook of her neck. Her lips fall agape as he lets go of her flesh, pushing her down onto the bench and she kicks out of her jeans as he drops to his knees before her. 

 She can make out the outline of his abdomen through his muscle tee and she’s utterly bewitched as she watches him part her thighs, eyeing her through hooded lids. She tries to breathe although it’s hard when he’s peeling her open and exposing her in such a way, she has to fight the urge to close her legs, to shy away. It’s not he would’ve let her anyways— not when he was practically drooling at the sight before him, the pad of his thumb teasing just above her clit. 

 “Seems like this is long overdue,” he teases and she jumps when his thumb finally finds her clit, rubbing slow, tight circles on the bud. She whimpers and her toes curl, hands finding purchase on whatever she could get them on. She grasps onto the material of his baseball bag, fisting the material as he breathes a laugh. She presses her lips together and furrows her brow down at him. “Look how messy you’re getting for me already,” he titters. 

 A foreign sound leaves her throat— frustration and pleasure intertwined— as he strokes a forefinger up and down her slit agonizingly slow. She cants her hips into his hand, yearning for more and he uses his free hand to grab her waist, holding her in place. 

 “Leon,” she whines and he groans, pressing his thumb down harder against her aching clit. “God, that voice,” he mumbles, leaning in closer to her heat, his breath so close now, it sent shivers slithering down her spine. Her chest heaves up and down as he turns his head, eyes never leaving hers as he presses kisses to the inside of her thighs. 

 He enjoys this, she thinks. He enjoys teasing her, taunting her, watching the way she squirms and mewls as he does everything except what she wants him to. She would kick him in the face if it wouldn’t stop him from putting it between her legs. 

 “Please,” she whines, frustration setting her skin ablaze. He raises an eyebrow, his mouth but a whisper away from where she needs him. “I guess since you asked so nicely…” he smirks before he dives in and she’s suddenly electric. 

 His lips are like a bolt of lightning and she’s suddenly so alive, like she’s never been before. Her vision blurs and it’s like she’s falling when he flicks his tongue up against the underside of her clit. Her hand instinctively finds his hair, her back arching up from the back of the bench as she guides him in closer, deeper. 

 He hums against her and pulls away for the smallest of moments, lips glistening and agape as he pants. “So fucking good,” he murmurs and she watches through watercolor vision as he delves himself back in. A lewd, wet squelch sounds when he dips his tongue into her hole and she’s on fire, living in an oasis for all things she could only dream about in her wildest of fantasies. 

 Leon’s a man starved. 

 His eyes are a dark pool of lust that spill into hers as he stares at her from between her legs, his nose practically buried in her pussy. His tongue burrows deep in her sopping heat and he circles the muscle inside of her, groaning against her when her eyes roll, the grip she has on his dark blonde locks tightening. Her stomach twists in knots and with each stroke of his tongue, she comes deliciously close to snapping, to coming undone. 

 “Leon, fuck—! Fuck, I’m…” she mewls, unable to finish speaking through sharp breaths. He licks a stripe up from hole to clit, again and again, and she’s seeing stars. She brings his face closer, trying to reach that end she so desperately craves. 

 Leon simply relishes it all. 

 He doesn’t make attempts to speak, the stormy sea in his irises swallowed by an oblivion in the middle, his mouth hot as it circles and suckles on her clit. She’s seeing white now and the knot in her belly is shaking along with the rest of her body, her knees bent and squeezing around his head. He groans again against her cunt and as if the vibration was the extra push she needed, she unravels like a ball of yarn. 

 Leon’s mouth is still on her, guiding her through her orgasm. He circles his tongue down to her hole, lapping up every drop he can taste, making sure not even a pinch goes to waste. Her vision blurs and she feels the burning of tears on her cheeks as she drops her head backwards, staring towards the glaring white light on the ceiling. 

 Finally, Leon pulls away and he pulls himself up just enough that he can plop down on the space of the bench beside her. The shape of his head eclipses the light on the ceiling and he leans down, pressing his lips to hers. She’s exhausted but she still reciprocates, her tongue lazily waltzing around his. Her cum mixes with his saliva and she hums, scarlet shame searing her cheeks. She pulls away and Leon cups her cheek to keep her head in place, the pad of his thumb soothing over her skin. 

 “You don’t have to be so shy,” he murmurs, grinning as he playfully bops her forehead with his. Her breath releases as more of a laugh and she glances down to his chest, the way it rises up and down to the rhythm of his breath. Her fingers itch to touch him, and perhaps she would, if it hadn’t been for the sound of the door opening. 

 “Kennedy! Didn’t expect you to be—“

 She’s a statue, and she’s thankful for how quickly Leon moves to stand in front of her, kicking her jeans and underwear back towards her. Mortification seeps through to her bones and she’s suddenly moving on autopilot, bending to grab her bottoms and slip them on. 

 “Carlos! Wasn’t expecting you to be here either,” she can hear Leon say as she tugs her panties and jeans up her legs, trying to fit them over her hips without having to stand up. 

Whatever Carlos says next is completely unknown to her, for she’s rising from the bench, scrambling to snatch her bag and notebook off the ground. She’s fully prepared to book it for the door, if it hadn’t been for a hand around her wrist, spinning her around, and drawing her in closer. Leon Kennedy’s mouth is on hers for the briefest of moments and it curls into a grin as he finally releases her. Her cheeks burn and she pivots around on her heel, unable to meet Carlos Oliveira’s eye as she sprints for the exit— albeit with some effort, for her knees still feel like jelly and Leon’s goodbye-kiss rekindles a flame at her center. 

a/n; again, not my best work! kinda just easing back into writing again tbh, but hope you still enjoy! i played softball pretty much my entire childhood all the way up to my senior year of high school so i get into this headspace every once in awhile where i just imagine all my fave fictional men as baseball players lol so here is a product of that fantasy!

💿 if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging or even leaving a reply! 🫶

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[colonelarr0w]

This is self-indulgent comfort because hey, guess who just read chapter 236?

Also, consider this my official apology for this post.

This wasn't real.  

"C'mon Satoru, get up," you all but beg, fingers folding uncomfortably into one another as you stare forward. You already know that everyone else is staring at you, watching you, gauging their own reactions based off of what you display.  

He wasn't losing, was he? 

You tug your bottom lip between your teeth, continuing to watch as he pushed himself further and further towards a limit that you didn't know if he could bounce back from. The pit in your stomach only grew with each blow that he sustained, it grew with each drop of blood he lost and it grew with each Domain Expansion that he managed to pull off. 

No. He was the strongest, he'd be fine. 

At your side is Yuuji, his hand holding onto yours so tightly that you can feel your bones begin to crack. Even with the slightly uncomfortable sensation, you say nothing – Yuuji needed to feel the comfort of something familiar, and that just so happened to be you.  

And then … silence. 

Satoru Gojo … on the floor … eyes staring blankly up at the sky … blood everywhere.  

"…'toru?" 

You begin to tremble, the shake beginning in your fingers before slowly traveling up your body like a snake, coiling and twisting over your bones and biting into you – its fangs leaving behind a poisonous panic. 

"Satoru--!" 

"Hmm? Wha – what happened?"  

Your eyes shoot open, beads of sweat dripping down your forehead and making your hair cling uncomfortably to your skin. Your body propels itself upward, feet kicking off the blankets that cover you – it was warm, too warm.  

"Hey, hey, what's goin' on?"  

Your head swivels to the side, nearly giving yourself whiplash. There, at your side, is that familiar tuft of snowy-white hair and bright aquamarine eyes that soften at the panicked expression you wear. Satoru. 

You open your mouth to say something, but instead of a coherent sentence, all your body is able to produce is a broken sob. And right on cue, Satoru's arms are locked around you, tugging you to his chest and allowing you to bury your face into his shoulder. 

Your nails bite into his back as you sob into him, body trembling with the weight of your cries. Though the feeling of you scratching him was a touch painful, there was nothing that would stop him from comforting you – not when you were this distressed.  

"Hey … hey. Shh, 'm right here," Satoru murmurs into your hair, laying gentle kisses against your hairline as his fingers rub comforting circles into the small of your back. "Shh." 

You feel yourself begin to calm as the familiar tingle of Infinity washes over you, draped over your shoulders like a blanket fresh from the dryer. Its warmth reminds you of the safety that Satoru's arms provide, how he would never let anything happen to you. That you were safe. That he was safe.  

That whatever you saw when your eyes were closed was nothing but a story told by your imagination.  

"Don't leave me 'toru … ever," you mumble into Satoru's shirt, voice breaking to release a small sob. His arms tighten around you, cheek pressing into your hair. He can feel his heart tightening in his chest – mind wrapping around just how small you sounded. How desperate. Frail.  

He sighs, craning his neck and laying his palm against your cheek, lifting your head and guiding your tear-filled gaze to meet his softened one. His lips turn upward in a smile, the pad of his thumb swiping against the tears that roll silently down your cheeks.  

"Hey, there she is," he murmurs warmly, tone dripping with affection and a softness that he could only ever reserve for you. Satoru leans down, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. At the contact, your eyes momentarily shut, as if committing the very feeling of him against you to memory.  

"I'm here. Not goin' anywhere just yet." 

His thumb swipes against your bottom lashes, wiping away those last few tears that cling so desperately to your waterline, wanting to fall but not being brave enough to make the final choice. Satoru smiles again – silently wanting you to do the same.  

Even though your heart still aches and your mind still reminds you of what you had seen … you smile too.  

Because deep down, in that little safe kept in your chest, you know that Satoru wouldn't go down so easily. At the end of the day, just like he had promised you … 

... he would always be on the other side of the front door.  

[bunnyreaper]

johnny is the wolf plushie that watches over your bed—but is he something more?

(18+/MDNI, plushophilia, wolf!shifter, mild a/b/o, mentions of blood.

part of my plushie-verse, and definitely with @iciclesses in mind <3)

it was a random tuesday in june when he turned up on your doorstep—the most precious little wolf puppy plushie that probably has ever existed, at least in your eyes.

his brown-gray fur is silky smooth, with the journey in the post smoothing the hair atop his head into a perfect peak, you don't have the heart to smooth it down, as he just looks so precious with it. his sapphire eyes sparkle brightly and his mouth is stitched into a little smile. there's a note in the package detailing his journey and the coincidences that led him to you. How your dear friend had got invited to a car boot sale at the last minute, had happened upon the wolf plushie as they bought something else and the seller had passed him over with "free to a good home".

your friend immediately knew he belonged with you, and the bond you formed was instant. you rushed out to get him his own collar after just a few days, officially making him your pup.

the wolf was the loyal guard dog of your bed and your dreams, always there watching you and the other plushies that lived in your bed. some nights he was never out of your clutches, cuddled close to you all warm and cosy—other nights he kept watching over the bed, his presence making you feel safe despite the fact he was decidedly not real.

one night, for the first time since getting your pup, you spend the night away from home. you'd felt so bad leaving him behind while you went for your sleepover, but knew you couldn't bring him with you. so you'd kissed him on the forehead, set him on your pillow, and headed out for your night of fun, trying to cast him from your mind—after all, you shouldn't feel so attached to a plushie, right?

that night your rest was fitful, plagued by nightmares. vague figures chased you down, and the only relief you found was when a wolf came to your rescue. you recognise its sparkling blue eyes and familiar fur, yet its form is so different. no longer a sweet-faced pup, but a giant, protective beast—snarling and attacking those who chased you.

the wolf ravaged each attacker and yet… once you were safe, its aggression melted, as it stalked towards you, head bowed making it look respectful, despite the blood dripping from its maw. you know you should be scared of such a beast, and yet you know him—he's your wolf.

he nuzzles into you, surrounding you in his soft fur and warm embrace—covering you in his scent and marking you as his. your body can't help but react to the closeness, the intimacy, as you shiver with need. as both you and the wolf begin to calm, you feel his body shift, back to a man. all thick muscles littered with scars and dark hair—you feel his naked body pressed against yours, and yet as you're about to turn, you wake.

the dream leaves you more hot and bothered than your sleepover, and you find it hard to face your plushie when you return home, knowing the dream has twisted your innocent little plushie into an object of desire and lust. you nuzzle him to your neck, just as he had in the dream, and imagine what kind of mark he would leave on your neck.

over the coming weeks and months, the dreams continue. your wolf protects you, defends you, follows you, and keeps you safe. he's a constant, and you find yourself growing mentally and physically closer to him whether it's in wolf or man form.

the man behind the wolf slowly reveals himself, and he has the same blue eyes and protective stare, with a wicked grin and the same tuft of hair. you grow addicted to his touch, to the feeling of his strong body curled into yours, the feeling of his teeth on your skin, and the sublime stretch when he finally mounts you.

your waking moments grow a little emptier, as you find yourself lost to the feeling that comes with your dreams.

you find yourself distracted and forlorn one night, having been dragged from the comfort of your bed to a bar in town—one that's far too busy and far too loud, and filled with people that make you feel unsafe. you try to dance in peace with your friends, but find it hard to let loose with strangers grinding into you and trying to make a move—it's tiring trying to shoo off each new body that appears and tries to get close to you.

and then relief comes, in the form of a booming scottish voice fighting for your honour, asserting that they need to get out of your personal space. calm floods you instantly, and you turn to face your protector—only to sparkling blue eyes and a face you most definitely recognise.

[naffeclipse]

Cold Scales

Naga!Moon x Reader. Sickness.

The first sign of your fever hits you with a pulse of heat. You brushed it aside, believing the sun had been beating on you too long, and the jungle warmth was simmering your blood. Sun leads you to the cave come nightfall. The buzz of mosquitoes fills the air with a menacing hum.

Sun has always been warm to you, even when he told you that you are warmer. His melting yellow and golden jewel tone scales, his cornflower blue eyes, wide and endearing, fit alongside the heavy humidity in the afternoons. The small scarlet markings on his throat and hips are metal-red hot, too. He always kept you warm.

Moon is cool. You’re not sure if that’s due to the cold tones of his scales, gray-blue on his belly and along his arms, and deeper into midnight blue along his back and on top of his hood. He hides in the darkness after sunset. His red eyes, even darker still, only flash once it’s too late for his prey. You’ve seen how fast he strikes—before, when you were acting foolish and trying to escape their aid, and after, when you watched him and Sun hunt a meal.

You slip out of Sun’s embrace. His arms fall away, lethargic from the day you both put your energy into scavenging for berries and nuts and small mammals. A soft hiss leaves his lips. You wait a moment to ensure he doesn’t stir, though his coils unconsciously tense, searching for the little human he was holding.

Sun had mentioned you felt warmer than usual, but you convinced him you were only tired and worn out from the hot day. Still, he frowned when you laid down beside him on the cool cave floor.

The fever pulses deep within you. You feel it burn across your forehead with a ripple of sweat. Staggering out of the cave, what strength you have is quickly sapped by whatever attacks your body. You need less heat. You need to be cold and imagine gulping down icy water to soothe the dryness infecting your throat.

A small trail that’s been trampled by your feet and the width of snake tails leads you through the trees. Even in the dark, under the delirium of a fever, you find the edge of the glinting water reflecting the canopy of thick verdant leaves overhead.

You kneel, almost collapsing forward before you manage to catch yourself with both hands splashing into the pebble-bottom stream. The heavy breaths in your chest heave in and out. You sigh and tell yourself you’re being a baby—one little fever, and you’re struggling to concentrate on the water before you.

In the reflection of the stream, you catch two red eyes glowing above you, leaning out of a tree to survey your feeble attempts to quench your burning thirst. A hood of midnight and diamond yellow stars surround the visage. 

“It’s nothing, Moon,” you whisper to the water. Slowly, you cup your hand and carefully bring it to your lips. The crisp coldness douses your heated lips, filling your mouth with a jolt due to the sharp contrast of cold and fire within you. When you swallow, you shiver.

The softest rustle echoes. A few branches quiver, then, you feel his presence behind you, cool as a tree’s shadow. 

A large, blue-gray hand snakes around your forehead. Knuckles press against your temple, and you sigh in relief at his blissful, fresh touch. 

“Fever,” Moon rasps, carrying the end of the word with a soft hiss of disdain, as if saying it with a curse will make it no longer reality.

“I just need a drink.” You cup your hand in the lazy flow of water again. “I’m fine.”

“Too warm,” he says when you greedily gulp another mouthful. 

Water spills cut down the corners of your mouth. He presses closer to you. His thumb smoothly wipes away the drips falling off of your chin, then he shifts. Your mauve shirt with the sleeves cut off allows his frosty arms to offer a barrier against the next wave of heat crashing against you. He’s never felt so cold before—or have you never felt this feverish before?

“It’ll go away.” 

You try to get to your feet but Moon’s hand on your waistline stops you from rising.

“Come here,” he rasps. “Let me see you, orchid.”

You would have given him a look at the pet name, but you don’t have the strength to muster the effort. He eases you back against his chest. His palms slide and cup your shoulders, his sharp fingertips slipping slightly under the frayed edges of your shirt and resting on the end of your collarbone. Is that a shiver from the elicit touch or sickly chills beginning to take hold?

“You’re flushed,” he hisses softly. A slight slip of his tongue, forked at the end, peeks out of his mouth as he leans closer. You moan unwittingly at his cool, flat cheek pressed against your clammy face.

“It was hot today.”

“You’re sick,” he decides.

This time, you groan out of refusal rather than relief. 

“I’m not sick.” You slowly shift, managing to get to your knees to face him. The fever forces your shoulders down. You bow under the exhaustion taking hold. 

Moon hisses in an amusement yet concerned note. His long tail drapes behind him, cutting across the ground like the connections of a constellation. It’s black in this lowlight, but in the day, when he sleepily shows himself, you’ve caught the iridescent indigo and jeweled blue tones of his beautiful scales. 

“If you keep denying it, I will take drastic actions. Do you want that, orchid?” his tone lowers to a menacing threat, all dark cords and hisses, but you’ve learned to tune your senses to his hands and expression. He looks only at you, a slight frown playing along his wide mouth. His eyes are narrowed, displeased with your condition.

“No,” you shake your head, “You and Sun are so dramatic.”

“Says the stubborn flower,” he touches your cheek. You nearly collapse into his palm. The rasp of his laugh stings your pride as much as it soothes your aching chest. 

“I’m not a flower,” you mutter as you feel his arms lower slightly, coaxing your hands over his shoulders. He rises higher on his tail, lifting your feet off the ground without effort, and you slump over his shoulder, little more than a child being carried to bed. Moon hums a low, hypnotic sound (that you’re sure is part of his allure, his power).

“Of course not,” he gives with amused demean.

You work up a growl at your throat that sounds weak even to your own ears. Moon shushes you with a soft stroke of his claws against your spine. The shudder that follows through your body is both cold and hot, and you hate that he silences you so simply, and that you like how he strikes back against your harshness.

“Easy, easy,” he murmurs as if calming a tiger. You want to snarl at him again but the brief spark is quickly smothered under an internal infernal cooking your core.

No one agitates you and reassures you as much as Moon.

He glides across the ground to his tree—it’s wide and high, thick with strong boughs and leafy but not too leafy. A perfect tree for a naga. Moon tends to lounge up there when he wants to escape the shadows of the cave you usually make your bed in. You wonder how he intends to hold you through the night up in its verdant limbs, but Moon hooks a hand behind your head and lowers you softly to the cool, moist ground at the base of the trunk.

“Moon?” For a piercing moment, you’re afraid. You refuse to let go of his arm as he draws away. Where is he going?

“Hold still,” he gently hisses.

You let go. You wait for him.

Slowly, his coils gather, curving in loops close to you. He draws himself around you, his long body following. The darkness shimmers. He takes you into his arms once more and guides you to his chest where he fully embraces you. The end of his tail drapes across your waist, sealing you within a deliciously cool embrace of the naga’s scales.

“Shush,” he says when you groan, soaking in his invigorating presence. “Sleep, orchid.”

You almost tell him that you can’t, or that you won’t, but the comfortable weight of his body surrounding you, the chill of his arms against your burning skin, and the soft tuck of his chin upon your sweaty head chases away the last of your resistance. You might have pressed back—saying you don’t need his help, but it’s hard to resist the frost-gentle relief of his presence. It’s hard to be stubborn when he feels so good.

“Close your eyes,” he murmurs against your hair. “You’ll feel better soon.”

The sweet caresses of his cool touch across your forehead eases your ache. Against your will, your eyelids flutter. He hums low, a lullaby you can’t name, and it soothes you gently into a dreamless sleep, comforted by a cool cradle of scales and songs.

[bloodlinesgirly]

Fearing the fall~ Daryl Dixon

warning: angst(first time writing it) blood, violence

word count: 1452

set in alexandria(no mention of when)

x reader (long hair mentioned but that’s it)

requested (i hope this is what you were imagining!)

not proofread

There are very few people who can ever say they had a connection with daryl dixon. He’d be the last to admit it but you were one of them. But with you it’s different, it’s not like it is with rick or maggie, or even carol. it’s different. you're different.

The first time he felt it was when you sat in his lap, bandaging the wounds on his face.

“i already told ya m’fine” he growled, trying to slap your hands away from his face but you persisted. dipping a washcloth in warm water, dabbing the blood away from his cuts.

“you’re not fine, Daryl, you’re bleeding.” you apply the last bandage, giving him a pat on the back, a signal telling him you were finished. he huffed at you like usual.

the second time he felt it was scavenging through a grocery store on a run, he knew you were strong, you could do it alone, but he couldn’t let you. he needed the peace of mind knowing he was there in case you couldn’t handle things. you’ve always handled things. you’ve been through 10x more than any human ever should. you weren’t weak and you definitely didn’t need him glued to your side in an already cleared grocery store. he knew that. so why did he feel otherwise?

the third time he felt it was the strongest. blood gushed from your thigh, impaled with the knife of a man you were trying to help. you sobbed and screamed for help. but you kept fighting. you were losing blood, you could feel yourself going in and out of consciousness. but you kept moving, taking down the man who managed to deceive you. daryl was a few feet into the woods pulling arrows out of some animal when he heard you scream. his heart raced as he dropped everything and ran, screaming your name trying to find you. he was being reckless, what if there were walkers nearby? what if he tripped and hurt himself? but he didn’t care. the only thought in his mind was getting to you. he saw red when he finally found you, sat against a tree unconscious, the man dead at your side. he laid you down, putting your head in his lap, doing everything in his power to wake you up.

“cmon’ please…you’re okay…you have to be okay” tears fell down his cheeks and dripped onto your forehead. He felt you stir, coming back to consciousness once again. daryl had never felt more relief than he did in that moment. he got you home, the doctors in alexandria were able to stitch up your leg. you were okay. why wasn’t he there to protect you? why didn’t he work faster, pay more attention? He blamed himself for everything that happened that day. he was cursed. everyone hes ever cared about has gotten hurt or worse.

So he stopped letting you in. no longer was daryl dixon the man you laughed with, cried to, or went to for help. he promised himself he’d always do anything to protect you but he will never let you in, infect you the way he has so many others.

The day was warm, sweat dripped down your neck as you pulled your hair up tight in a ponytail. you saw daryl perched on the porch of carols home. His biceps speckled with dirt and maybe some freckles from the sun. he shook the hair from his face before lighting his cigarette and taking a drag from it. you bounced your way over to him, shooting him a smile like you always did. he didn’t smile back, he didn’t even look your way. maybe he didn’t notice you, you thought. “hey! daryl, do you mind helping me with some of this gardening stuff? it’s hot and a lot of this stuff needs out of the ground and-“ you started to ramble on like normal. the way you always were able to when it came to him.

“nah” he grumbled

“i was thinking maybe you could-huh” your voice dropped, he’d never flat out denied you like that before.

“busy.” he spoke flatly.

“oh…okay” you frowned, confused and almost hurt. you returned back to your work anyways.

a week later.

It was killing him and he didn’t know why. you’d come up to him trying to speak to him like usual and every time, you were met with a dry response or nothing at all. everytime he watched your excited expression drop, everytime he watched you hold back tears, it broke him. it had never been hard for him to take a step back before, ignoring people and staying to himself has always been his thing. until you. he craved your presence like no other. he wanted to hear your laugh, see your face focus as you patched him up, the way your eyebrows crinkle when he annoyed you, your animated expressions as you retell your day, but most importantly he missed the way you’d hug him after every conversation, no matter how much he complained. he was hurting himself so he wouldn’t hurt you.

but he was hurting you, he was making you question where you went wrong constantly. and what hurt more was that you could never think of an answer. so you found yourself in bed with tear stained cheeks yet again. you loved him more than anyone, even if he would never be ready to love you back.

Over the next week and a half you’d gotten maybe 4 words out of daryl. you kept pushing, working conversation after conversation out of him until eventually it was just too much.

“daryl please can you just talk to me…that’s all i’m asking.” it was dark and the sounds of raindrops hitting heavy on porch roof was almost enough to drown out your voice. you were begging him to speak and he couldn’t, no matter how bad he wanted to give in he couldn’t let himself. the second he lets you back in he’s trapped you, you’ll get hurt and it’ll all be his fault. he couldn’t deal with the pain of losing you, having you from a distance was enough if it meant having you at all.

“please..” your voice cuts through his thoughts, he looks at your face finally. you’re crying, his heart sank, he didn’t want to make you cry, he was supposed to protect you.

“no…no please don’t cry..” he whispers just loud enough to be heard.

“what did i do wrong daryl…please…please just tell me and i’ll fix it. i’ll fix everything i promise” your cries get louder, your sobs break up your sentences. he jumps up to wrap his arms around you.

“you didn’t do anythin’…i thought i was protecting you.” he spoke into your hair, every sob pulled from your throat tore him apart a little more.

“what? protect me? you’re not protecting me daryl. you’re hurting me.” hearing those words come from your mouth is what he needed. it’s what he needed to realize exactly why he felt the way he felt. he promised he’d never hurt you and now look what’s happened. he’s done exactly that. why did he do all this? because he loved you. you’re the only person who’s ever shown him what love is, and how good it can be.

“i was scared…m’sorry…m’ sorry” he repeated softly.

“scared of what daryl?….me? i don’t get it.” you question, your voice is shaking as you look up at him. his expression is soft and almost sad looking.

“i…i feel for you…in ways i’ve never felt f’anyone” he responds, his voice is strained and gruff as he speaks.

you can hear your heart beating in your ears

“…what do you mean?”

daryl clears his throat before pulling you back to his chest, he hesitates before speaking into your hair.

“…i love you..”

he hears you sob again, picking your head up you wipe tears from your eyes.

“i love you too daryl, more than you realize. i always have and i always will, no matter what.” you hug him tightly and finally he hugs you back, his arms tight around your waist. you look up at him, smiling softly before reaching up to cup his face and pull him into a kiss. it’s sweet, exactly what you had imagined.

he’s always known you were different, it took him longer than most people would to accept it. he loved you and there was nothing he could do about it. he is yours just as you are his. his promise to protect you stays the same. the only difference is he’s no longer protecting you from himself.

i’d love to make a second part to this if interested!

[prythianpages]

in a field of dandelions, I was so ready for the y/n to say the dialogue 'Don’t talk to me like that' and I was ready for it to hurt. az saying it somehow hurt so much more

omg I didn't even think of having the reader say the dialogue! so I wrote this spin-off i guess? or au lol of y/n saying the words instead, which starts as soon as they get to her apartment. you can read below! you can find the original imagine here

The walk to your apartment is silent and you begin to wonder if you should apologize for your outburst earlier. It was not within your nature to raise your voice at anyone…or harbor anger toward someone. But Eris had tried to hurt you, hurt Azriel and then shamelessly sneered about it.

Azriel follows you into your home, watching as you set the ingredients you collected down. He expects you to bid him farewell and kick him out but as you turn to him and your gaze falls to his injured hand, you sigh.

“Come on,” you offer, reaching out for his hand and he recoils. You frown.  “Does it hurt?”

“No.” 

You know he’s lying by the way his jaw clenches and you can’t help but notice that he appears to be repelled by your touch. You almost laugh, even though you want to cry. “I promise I won’t curse you. I actually never cursed anyone before.”

Azriel’s expression remains unreadable.

“Just let me see. I can help you.”

“I’m fine.” He says through gritted teeth.

And as his blood drips onto your floor, you burst into tears because it’s all your fault. That arrow was aimed toward you. It was meant for you and if you hadn’t been distracted, maybe you could’ve protected Azriel. He wouldn’t have gotten hurt. He wouldn’t be trying to hide his pain. 

“It’s all my fault. You’re hurt because of me,” you voice your thoughts out loud. You’re crying, wiping hastily at your tears, but they keep spilling and no matter how hard you’re trying, they’re not stopping. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Azriel’s gaze softens and is bridging the distance between you both. The sight of you crying is more painful than the injury in his hand and he hates himself for every agonizing tear of yours. He uses his uninjured hand to coax your gaze to his. He wipes your tears for you and you blink up at him, finding yourself lost in his hazel eyes. They’re a beautiful fusion of earthy browns and grassy green and they ground you like a tranquil forest kissed by sunlight.

“This,” Azriel inclines his head toward his injured hand. “It’s nothing to me. I’ve been through worse and I’d go through worse for you. I will always protect you.”

“Please,” you’re begging and you close your eyes but you still feel his gaze burning into you. “Don’t talk to me like that.”

“Why?”

“It’s cruel and heartless and you don’t even realize.” Your voice drops to a pained whisper and Azriel has never beheld anything more breaking.

He can’t do this anymore. He can’t keep hurting you. His mate.

“y/n,” he calls softly, his gloved thumb brushing against your cheek. You reluctantly open your eyes. “You’re my mate and I pushed you away because I--fuck, I don't deserve you. I thought I was doing you a favor but now I realize, I only hurt you instead. Please forgive me.”

“I know you're my mate." You confess and his breath hitches. “I’ve known since the moment I met you. I wanted to tell you right away but I didn’t want to scare you and when I was ready to tell you, you were avoiding me. I thought you hated me because–because, well, I’m a witch and not everyone is fond of them and I can’t blame–”

Azriel gently interrupts you with his lips. They’re soft and warm against your own and you’re kissing him back with a soft pressing need. You feel him smile against your lips and the butterflies in your stomach are dancing and fluttering all the way to your heart. He pulls away and rests his forehead against yours. You’re able to appreciate his smile and you’ve never seen anything more beautiful. You’re inclined to ask Feyre to paint it for you later.

“I owe you an explanation,” he breathes. “Where do I even start?”

You smile back at him. “How about we start with taking care of your hand?”

**the rest of the imagine would continue with Azriel still being hesistant to show you his hands but you accept him wholeheartedly bc who wouldn't?? <3 and it ends the same way*

[icallhimjoey]

writing idea: group hang at a rage room/smash room that ends up in a meet cute.

eeeeeee thanks for this request! it's a quick lil thing, hope you enjoy! tw: mention of blood and a cut in your face Wordcount: 1.7K

---

Not His Thing

Joe hasn't stopped feeling the uncomfortable flush of guilt in his face for the past half an hour. He feels awful.

Smash rooms, as so it turns out, aren't really his thing.

"Stop saying you're sorry."

"Yea, sorry. I'll stop. Sorry. Sorry." Joe jokingly takes all blame immediately, because he is obviously an idiot who can't do anything right at the moment.

You smile through watery eyes, your nose tinged red and half your face numb from the cold. You've been pressing a towel-wrapped ice pack to your cheekbone for over twenty minutes now, and it's done wonders for the bleeding and for the pain. Not so much for the panic and the lightheadedness that followed though, but all things considered, you feel fine.

Your fun day out with friends has been cut short, though.

"Does it hurt still?" someone asks you, and you expertly control your voice, give them a steady, "No, it's just cold, now." but your eyes are still watery.

When you remove the ice pack for a member of staff to have a look at you, they tut worriedly and tell you to just hold it in place a moment longer.

Joe did this. This is Joe's fault.

Joe tries his best not to wince at the swelling he can see. At the size of the cut he left in your face. God, your face. You are likely going to need stitches. He remembers getting a cut in his own face, right in the middle of his forehead, and how that bled for hours. The worst part though, is that it'd left him with a scar.

Joe can't believed he scarred someone.

"But I am sor–" Joe tries, not overly loud, he doesn't want to make you jump.

"Stop it. It was an accident. Accidents happen, don't worry." You reassure him once more, and you really mean it, but it does nothing for Joe's culpability.

He did this.

Joe had swung a bat at porcelain, and you'd been in the wrong spot at the wrong time. A shard of vase had gotten stuck in your cheekbone, just below the protective glasses you'd been wearing.

You imagined it'd just been a scrape, had only let a small, "Ow," pass your lips upon the impact, but then you'd gone to touch it, and felt something solid there still.

Stuck.

Skin wet.

The liquid warm.

Something solid.

Something sharp.

Your fingers painted red, and the sight of it had nearly made you faint. Joe had never seen colour drain from someone's face quite so fast.

Joe already knew that his fight or flight response was freeze, but being confronted with this cowardly personality trait like this was terrible.

Joe hadn't ever seen a girl panic the way you had from something he was responsible for.

He'd just stood next to you in his protective gear, big shocked eyes behind his plastic safety glasses, entirely unsure of what to do.

And then you'd wobbled on your legs, and he had just shot an arm out.

For the lack of strength you'd held in your legs, Joe was surprised by the death grip you had on the sleeve of his overalls.

Your blood covered hand went back to touch at your cheek again, but Joe was able to grab hold of that wrist just in time. And then, with weird tensed upper bodies that held onto each other, Joe'd lowered you down onto the ground because everyone around you kept repeating for you to sit down, to get onto the floor.

You sat down, and then only seconds later, lied down before you could lose consciousness all together. Your friend lifted your legs up and even though your eyes looked scared, the two of you were giggling. Laughing at the silly situation.

And Joe had just stood there.

Useless.

Your skin looked extra pale next to the bright red of the blood that dripped down your cheek right into your hair and it was... sort of beautiful. Awful thing to focus on when he should've actually been doing something helpful, but Joe just... looked at you, and thought you looked lovely.

Looking at you now, still teary, but smiling, he's still scared it'll flare up again. Your panic. It's unlikely, you're sat on the floor, leaning against the wall near the exit, but your cheek doesn't look good. He feels bad going back in to launch a hammer at a printer, or whatever, so he's hovering. Some of his friends are too, just like the staff is, making sure you're drinking your water, telling you to stay seated until your breathing has returned to normal.

Your friend has gone to get the car, and she said she'd be quick, but the second she was out the door, you'd cracked a joke. Said you'd see her in an hour if you were lucky.

You shudder through another inhale, and it makes Joe's eyebrows twitch up a little. You see it happen and release your breath in a laugh.

"If I were to go with just how you're looking at me, I'd believe I was actively dying," you joke, and everyone around you politely smiles through worried grimaces.

"I feel fine. I'm fine, honestly. It's just a minor cut. It feels," and like an idiot, you remove the ice pack and shove a dirty finger right into the cut on your face.

You feel how wide the cut is, and how deep into your cheek your finger sinks.

"Fi–..."

The wave of nausea is a surprise to you, and the way Joe shoots into action when you sag to the side because your head is suddenly too heavy is a real surprise to him.

"Hey, hey, okay, careful, careful..." Joe holds you by the side of your face that hasn't got a huge gash in and curls his fingers around as he carefully tries to hold you up.

"Maybe you shouldn't..." he starts, and finds the ice pack you've dropped with his other hand. "...play with that."

You kind of want to go to sleep.

Close your eyes and have a nap.

You lean into the hand that holds you and the instant comfort after shooting pain is nice.

But then the ice pack gets softly pressed against where your skin's broken and your eyes laser back into focus.

"Hi," Joe says when you make eye-contact. He smiles, though it's wobbly.

Maybe you aren't as fine as you thought you were.

"I'm fine?" you ask, feeling panicked like a real loser.

"You're fine." Joe assures you, voice soft but level enough for you to believe it. That's what's important, he thinks. If you believe it, you'll calm down enough until your friend gets back and she can take you to hospital.

"You're okay, focus on breathing, all right?" Joe redeems himself. This is what he should've done half an hour ago, when all hell broke loose. "That's all you've got to do. You're fine."

"I'm fine." you repeat after him, and force yourself to take a deep breath. "I'm fine." you're reassuring yourself now, and with one hand cupping your clammy face and another cooling where you're hurt, you press your own hands to your chest and ground yourself with your eyes closed.

It's awkward because there's other people there, but Joe's glad he gets to hold you for a bit. It's admittedly an unconventional way of being close to someone he's just met, and he still feels mortified, but... you're pretty. Even with dried blood covering half your face.

If this is how he meets the love of his life, it can be an embarrassing story he will gladly listen to at every single birthday party until he dies.

"That hurt." you say after a moment, and smile, eyes still closed.

"You're fine." Joe says again, but whispers it now.

"I'm sorry," you say like this is your fault. "I should've known not to agree to come to this," you confess, eyes blinking open now, and if you're startled by how close Joe is to you, you don't show it. "I'm not really angry enough for this. I don't think smash rooms are my thing..."

Same, Joe thinks, and he smiles, gets some of his confidence back when he sees the flush returning to your face. "Maybe there's some anger now?" he asks, because you should be angry. At him. Look at what he's done to you.

You don't understand what he means, this handsome stranger, and you frown in confusion. Before you can ask, and before Joe can explain, the door opens and your friend barges in, completely out of breath.

"Quick! I've stopped right in front and I'm holding up traffic!"

And just like that, Joe and staff help you move back up onto your feet.

You're fine.

You're helped out to the car, but halfway down the pavement, you're walking by yourself and are getting into the car without any help.

It is just a cut on your cheek.

"Can I, em," Joe starts, staring through the glass of the door at where you cup a loose hand over your cheek to protect it when you put your seatbelt on with the other. "Can I get her details?" he turns to a member of staff.

"Huh?"

"I'd love to send a card," he explains, and from behind him, he can hear one of his friends softly chuckle.

Joe'd forgotten he was even there with anyone.

"A card, or a bunch of flowers?" one of them starts.

"He's going to write her a love letter," one groans, already annoyed by the idea of it.

"Gifts her ten grand, just because he feels bad," another jumps in, and they're laughing, slapping shoulders. They're making fun, pretending to be Joe, mimicking the face he made, how he'd helplessly stood there, joking about how the one time Joe joins them for something, this happens. It's all shit they'd held in whilst you were there still, and it's all spewing out now, no holding them back. Joe doesn't even try.

"Come on, we've spent long enough not smashing TVs in."

And bats, hammers and axes get picked back up.

"You coming?"

And Joe smiles, though it's not very convincing.

"Nah," he says, and walks over to that staff member. He needs to get your details.

"I'm good."

There was no way he was going back in there, because smash rooms, as it turns out, aren't really his thing.

the end

---

The Taglisted

@ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson,

@choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @djoseph-quinn,

@dolcevit4, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson, @emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee,

@figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @hanahkatexo, @harringtonfan4,

@hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke,

@lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @munsonluvrr,

@munson-mjstan, @nadixq, @nglharry, @notverywise, @pepperstories,

@phyllosilicate-s, @royale1803, @sherrylyn0628, @sidthedollface2, @solzi1420,

@songforeddiemunson, @sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73,

@werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

[creedslove]

Can you imagine seeing Joel being absolute psycho killing machine, because someone captured you and he is like WHERE IS SHE?!

Just to see him immediately soften, when he notices you tied up and hurt and he is just so sweet and caring towards you saying "it's ok baby. I'm here I'm here. I'm gonna fucking kill them all." and gently kissing your forehead, before cutting ripe from your hands and legs. ♥️

Post outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

A/N: bestie, you had no right to mess up with my hormones like that, now you got me whimpering and crying in need and horny for Joel 😭

• you'd become Joel's girl while you joined him into his journey; he didn't want to let you come along at first, but he had to let you in eventually as you insisted so much

• on one hand, you were just another mouth to feed and another source of worry for him, on the other hand, you were fast and you were able to take down clickers and humans without whining, which was really valuable to him

• and slowly he began warming up to you and you got closer and closer, to that, getting physical was a quick step and the rest was history

• you were his and he was yours; the love and the hunger you felt for each other was huge and intense, and you didn't even know if it was healthy, but you didn't care, there wasn't such a thing as healthy in the world the two of you lived in, but you two were there for each other

• which meant you would kill and destroy anything and anyone in order to keep each other safe

• so when the two of you fell into that ambush, Joel couldn't believe he'd been so naive and stupid, he had done that trick so many times in order to looter but unfortunately it had been a larger group and they ended up knocking him out and taking you

• when he woke up, you were gone and Joel panicked, he knew damn well what a bunch of those animals would want to do with a beautiful girl like you

• so he immediately followed your tracks in order to find you, racing against the clock in order to save you

• and by following your tracks, Joel meant killing anyone he'd seen in sight, anyone he could get information from

• you were tied up, your head was killing you and you could feel your own blood dripping down your forehead, but at least they hadn't done anything worse to you... Yet

• you looked around, so anxious and nervous, your heart filled with fear of not seeing Joel anymore at the same time you were also filled with hope he would show up and rescue you, because he always did

• so the moment you began hearing screaming and gunfire, you felt your Joel was coming to the rescue

• he might not be a prince charming, but he was way better than that, he was your man, and you were his girl and no one could ever get between the two of you

• so it didn't take long for him to barge in, splattered in blood, gun in hands and killing anyone in sight

• he was furious, he was merciless but the moment he spotted you, he went soft

• you looked reasonably alright but he went so soft for you, god it was even dangerous how much he loved it, it drove him mad, he didn't even know he could love someone like he loved you

• when he saw the room was empty, with the exception of the two of you, he took off his jacket, wrapping around your body

"it's okay baby, I'm here. I'm here. I'm gonna kill them all"

• he whispered into your ear, pecking your forehead and cutting the ropes that kept you trapped

• he lifted you up easily and walked out of that place, making sure you were safe and warm into his arms

• he loved you and he would always make sure you were safe because you were his and no one would ever change that

____

[dark-and-kawaii]

I haven’t seen anybody mention this but… being Raphael’s consort or pet and pregnant with his hellspawn, just chilling in the healing bath. Imagine how it would just take away all your aches and Raphael would love to see you lounging there like royalty.

‎‧₊˚✧ [ The Bath ] ✧˚₊‧

‎✧ Awh~ I love these soft little moments with Raphael. Absolutely!!!

‎✧ Content: Soft Raphael - Tender - Loving - Raphael Still Being Raphael

“Such a radiant glow,”is all he said as he lifted up your arm, the warm bath water dripping off the tips of your fingers. His lips were warm against your shoulder, his body firm against your back while he sat behind you, and the way his hand caressed your arm that was lifted into the air caused you to melt against his chest, closing your eyes.

“You always say that when we're in the bath together,” you smiled, the blush on your cheeks a result of both the heat of the water and his body.

Raphael let your arm go, his own coming up to brush your wet hair over your shoulder, exposing your skin to him more. “Indeed, it is a truth,” He pressed his lips gently against your shoulder, lingering as he traveled slowly along your skin to the delicate curve of your neck, “my pet.”

You giggled when his stubble tickled you, “and you are by far the most handsomest of Devil, my dear archdevil.” Your hand reached up from behind to caress his cheek, and you could feel him smile against your skin. You knew that title made his head swell, but no matter, he truly was the most handsome being you have ever laid your eyes on, and you were honored that he had chosen you to be the carrier of his seed, to birth his heir.

As the warm water and his body lulled you into relaxation, his hand came to rest on your stomach, gently rubbing the flesh there, “Mm,” he teased your neck lightly with his teeth, “are you at ease, my little mouse?”

“Mhm,” you sighed, “very much so, Raphael.”

He pressed another kiss to your neck, the hand on your stomach tenderly caressing the swollen flesh there, his fingers brushing lightly over the area just below your belly button, “and how is my child?”

Your body turned so that you were facing him and straddling his lap, your hands coming to find his face and you leaned your forehead against his own, “Do my ears betray me? Or was that a tinge of worry I heard?”

He chuckled, his large hands resting on your hips, pulling you down more onto his lap, his cock stiffening as your heat brushed over him. Raphael was a sight, the water causing his red skin to glisten, his horns horns and wings standing out more against his fiery body.

When you didn't answer him, his voice was low, and his grip tightened, “Answer me.”

You grinned, pressing your lips against his, a deep kiss shared between the two of you, his tongue snaking out and tasting you. He tasted of sin and cherries, something that could never be replicated by the taste buds of a mere human. It was unique, and it was only his, and it was so delicious.

His lips trailed to your ear, a low growl, “Answer me.” He was such an impatient thing.

As your thumb stroked his cheek, you smiled, the answer easy and simple, “He- or she, is perfectly fine, Raphael. They are the child of your seed and the carrier of your blood,” the kiss you placed on his nose was like a feather, and the moan you felt vibrate through his chest was pure heaven, hmph, how contradicting, “Their little body will grow to be strong and majestic, just like their father, and one day will help you reign Hell.”

For a moment, the room was silent, the warm water cradling you both, his eyes boring into yours, watching as you rested your head upon his shoulder. Basking. In the warm embrace of the healing waters.

Your fingers trailed down his chest, over his muscles and along his skin, his tail lifting out of the water and wrapping around your wrist. With a gentle tug, he pulled your hand away from him, instead bringing it to his lips and placing a kiss to the palm.

Raphael's eyes gleamed with a self satisfied glint, a smirk curling at the corners of his lips, “it’s only natural that the child will inherit my grandeur,” he mused, his voice dripping with a blend of arrogance and charm. His hand tracing lazy circles on your belly, as if he were savoring the feel of his own creation.

[mashiraostail]

hello best friend!!!!!!! no way you thought you were gonna end that Halsin turn on's hc on that disgustingly horny note, then share that photoset of him and get away with out anyone asking for more!!!! feed the girls!!! super horny fic please PLEASE

the devil works quick but I am quicker.

NSFW!!!

The sun was high in the sky, too high in Halsin's opinion. For all the moments he languished the beautiful gifts of nature, bathed in a warm sunlight there were many where he cursed it, and the sun itself. He was hung back in the shade, assessing the now bloodied battlefield. The ambush was poorly planned on the enemy’s part, still despite this the sun was scorching him from the sky creating an oppressive heat  that made for an entirely unenjoyable battle. 

"Oh gods-" He hears you cry out, "I can't go on like this! Karlach! Catch me!" Despite the disgusting heat you seemed in good spirits.

"Easy solider, if you think you're hot now...." Karlach too, she's grinning at you, freshly tuned up she's enjoyed playfully fighting with you but even with her tune up she doubts touching you would help your temperature problem at all.

"You both should save your energy for the walk back to camp." Lae'zel seems to be handling the heat the best, though even she wipes a bead of sweat off her brow.

Halsin has found that lately it is incredibly easy to look at you. Even without imagining you in a sorts of terribly debauched scenarios it was a pleasurable pass time. He was looking at you now. You were heaving as you turned over the littered corpses and rooted through their things. Your skin was coated in a thin layer of sweat that made you look like you were glistening all over when the sun hit you right. Your cheeks were flushed and your lips parted taking in deep, thankful breaths every so often. He feels a sort of pit forming in his stomach, not unpleasant but certainly unwanted given your current location. He needs to take his mind off things, otherwise it wouldn't be long until he's imagining the way the sweat on your inner thighs would taste, or how beautifully you'd sing for him when he took it upon himself to find out.

"Can I help?" He walks towards you and you look up, bent at the waist as you rummage through an enemies armor set.

"Halsin," his name rolled off you tongue like an exhausted exhale, it took more strength than he had to suppress the shiver it sent up his spine. He watched you wipe a stream of blood off your jaw, smearing down your neck. He wondered how many different ways he could get you to call out his name.

"I'm a bit banged up I think." You straighten up to be closer to level with him, he watches the sweat drip down your neck sliding past the chest plate of your armor. He feels the lust and want creeping up his spine like a pleasant chill. He takes a deep breath in through his nose, tried to pry his mind away from the thought of chasing that bead of sweat down your chest with his lips and tongue. It was most certainly futile.

"Is the heat getting to you?" You look sympathetic and thank the gods he can blame his behavior on something rational. A stronger man would turn away.

"I'm...afraid so." He nods, using the back of his hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead, "I can't imagine you're faring much better, under all that armor."

Getting closer to you had been his worst mistake yet, up close you were shining with sweat, your hair stuck to the skin at the sides of your face, your lips glistened from the water you'd been downing and the swipe of your tongue over them did nothing to help his cause. He wanted to devour you, to be devoured by you, to feel your swollen, glistening lips on every part of his body and to feel your heaving breath against his bare skin when you called out his name.

"No," You laugh a little, he watches your throat, he furrows his brows. "I'm cooking in here." You fan yourself for emphasis, even your knuckles were tinged and flushed from the heat. He wanted, terribly, to put your fingers in his mouth, then watch you slide them inside yourself.

"I have to," He looks around, anything else to do, a reason to flee, "go." He doesn't find one so he simply turns and leaves, and plays busy by packing up the supplies everyone was looting.

Worst of all he didn't even feel bad, no, he wanted, he yearned almost pathetically. He imagined you, a dear friend and confidant doing, and having done to you, such dirty, head spinning, mind-numbing things, and he couldn't even feel slightly guilty. No he just felt...lustful, it felt indulgent, sticky and sweet and satisfying. He supposed he couldn't hold it against himself, what was a man in sick, world ending lust to do?

If you thought his behavior or unceremonious exit odd, you said nothing. Though he's doing a terrible job at keeping his eyes off you. Presently his attention has been pulled by your thighs, uncovered above your armored boots and looking even more supple than usual, glistening from the heat. He would do anything, he would beg, cry, get on his knees. If that’s what it took, if you would let him even graze his lips against your inner thigh, he would do it.

Gods he’d be sure you never considered a different set of armor again… Looting those Githyanki was a brilliant idea even though it pissed Lae'zel off. 

He drags his hand over his lips and chin, tries to tear his eyes away. To think of anything else, gods anything would be better than this.

"I don't think I can take anymore!" You're whining when you say it, it makes him want to jump you right there.

"Alright solider," Karlach chuckles, "why don't you start on back then? We can finish up here, right?" She looks to Lae'zel, then to Halsin.

"Chk," Lae'zel looks away from her and you, "you're endurance is laughable. We'll take care of this."

"I don't think we should travel alone." Halsin cuts in. To get you alone, that would be perfect. He was sure he could chip away at you then, gain back control. Or at the very least indulge himself. 

"Alright." Karlach nods, "that's true, you can take back this part of the loot." She kicks at a few bags, "sound good?"

"Thank you!" You warble and grab the bags, splitting them between the pair of you. "I'll fill up on water too." You promise. "Let's go, Halsin."

He walks a few steps behind you, allowing all the lust in his chest to brew for a bit. He listens to your heaving breaths and sighs.

"I'm sorry, I'm terrible in the heat." You sigh, "I whine like a child."

"I don't mind." Halsin shakes his head, "whine all you like." You turn to laugh at him, but when you do you can see the unmistakable wanting etched into his features. Surely he wasn't attracted to you like this?

"Maybe I will then." You feel a pit in your stomach so you elect to ignore it.

"We might not last the walk home then." He warns you and realization shoots through you like a bolt of lightning.

"What, I'll annoy you to death?" You rub the nape of your neck willing the embarrassment away.

"Hardly." You can feel his eyes on you from behind, you feel like your being burned alive, thought it's not unpleasant by any means.

"Then what?" You reach for your water, something to do with your hands, a reason to close your eyes, it's empty. You curse yourself.

"I can barely hold back as it is." Halsin laughs, mostly at himself, "and you intend to torture me by gasping and whining the whole way to camp?"

It feels like being zapped with a cattle prod, a silly, and frankly insane jolt of pleasure shoots up your spine. You swallow, scrub your eyes, try everything to quell the mix of nervousness and arousal pooling in your lower stomach.

"Look." Halsin changes the subject, you feel a 2 ton weight lift off you. "Some shade, and water. You look like you could do with a moment of respite." You nod and follow him down to the narrow ravine, the shade of the tangled trees above does provide a wonderful cooling feeling. You decide to dip your feet in, it cools you almost instantly.

"I wouldn't torture you." You say it quietly, under your breath once you've settled for a rest.

"What?" He's standing a bit aways from you, leaning against a tree. He cranes closer to you.

"I wouldn't torture you, you know." You look down at your feet in the water. You hear him let out a quiet laugh.

"Really?" He's walking towards you, the nervousness begins to flutter again. "I didn't know that. Perhaps that changes things." You feel him standing much closer than before. For some reason you can tell he's urging you to stand and face him. So you do.

"And how would you intend to put me at ease?" He's standing much closer than you had anticipated, you're almost chest to chest.

"However you ask." You search his face, wondering if you'd misunderstood yet also sure you haven't.

"How generous." You watch his features crack into a grin before his speaks again, "are you sure?"

You don't know exactly what to say to that so you kiss him, he honest to gods groans into it, it feels good, powerful and it certainly does wonders for your ego. It feels like he barely wastes anytime, he's attacking your jaw and neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses trailing as far down as he can until he's stopped by the confines of your armor. He's making quick work of that problem though and as quickly as you noted him starting to remove it, your chest plate was clanking on the ground, a shining pile of metal.

You can tell he's thrilled to finally have hands on you, he's touching you everywhere, his hands dragging over the hem of your underwear, unabashedly exploring every inch of you, covered or not.

"This is a disaster," He's breathing, heavy into your neck when you find the wherewithal to start removing his armor.

"Why?" You allow him to walk you backwards, you feel your back hit a tree.

"I think I've gone mad, Silvanus guide me." He's gliding his lips up your throat, licking and nibbling on the skin desperately, you swear you can feel him rutting against you already, pulling your leg around him, anchoring you as close as he could.

"What do you mean?" When your card your hands through the back of his hair you feel his hips stutter into you. He groans, his hands fumble to remove the last bits of fabric separating your bodies.

"I've been thinking about you since I saw you this morning, wanting you, imagining having you. This was all I could think about, all day."

He’s taking in deep breaths of you when he asks, “why don’t you come to me? I feel the way you look at me. I know.” He’s managed his way out of his own armor and now with so little fabric separating you from him you’re sure he’s rutting against you, desperate like an animal, if you’d had any more of a hold on yourself you’re sure you could have gotten him to beg. You seemed to be the one who had what he wanted, in an ideal world you would be able to hold it over him, this is not an ideal world.

“I didn't think you felt that way, back then, at the party-” You’re breathless, his hands seem to know their way around flawlessly, he hooks one of your legs around his waist, giving himself more purchase to press the growing bulge in his underwear against you.

"You're too modest, look at yourself." He's kneeling, dragging his lips over your chest and stomach as he goes, then your thighs, "you'll be my undoing." He's breathing deeply, guiding your leg over his shoulder and smattering your inner thighs with kisses and bites that make you hold your breath in the most delightful way. When he finally puts his mouth on you your knees buckle, you swear you'd have fallen if he didn't hold you.

"I wanted you then," he assures you, "I want you now."

"Then why did you turn me away?" You barely find it in you to question him, you're arching your back trying desperately to get closer to him.

"Another time." You feel his hands slide up the small of your back, "I'm glad I have you now."

You twist a strand of his hair around your fingers, rolling your hips into his mouth. Yon feel his eyes looking up at you, at your lips and chest. The feeling of his tongue inside you makes you pull him impossibly closer by his hair, the noise he makes against your skin tells you he doesn't mind a guiding hand at all..

Once he's started you find him to be almost relentless, he gives you no respite. He keeps his mouth on you for as long as he can, and when he can't he's using his fingers. It doesn't taking long for your breath to start hitching in your throat, or for the way you buck your hips to become erratic and telling.

"Halsin! Halsin I-"

"I know." His fingers are inside you, curling at the knuckle, you can feel every move they make acutely, "that's good."

"I don't want to finish yet I want to finish with you-" You're gasping it out, trying to stave yourself off almost painfully.

"Oh.." He slows but doesn't stop, he holds you on the edge, "is one all I deserve from you? Is that all you'll give me?" You swear it's the exhaustion making your legs shake.

"No-" You shake your head, "no I can... more-" You cover your face, unsure of when your brain disconnected from your mouth. It doesn't take him long to finish you off, even as you try to hold yourself back.

"Just like that is perfect," You can barely hear him through the ringing in your ears, you feel his lips against your hip bones his fingers still inside you but slowing around your orgasm, "you're so beautiful, gods I love your smell."

"Oh fuck-" Your leg just can't hold your weight anymore. He catches you with a heavy hand on the back of your thigh that relights the fire in your stomach wonderfully.

"I'm right here." He's kissing around your stomach, "stay with me." The day's heat is still sweltering to you, you imagined you'd have been better off staying with Karlach if avoiding a work out was your goal.

When he finally pulls his fingers away you join him on the ground, he steadies you on your way down. Being at eye level is enough to drive Halsin near feral. You look at him with pupils blown out to almost totally eclipse your iris, you're sweaty, naked, breathless and looking right at him, your sweaty hair sticking to your temples and flushed cheeks. He kisses you earnestly, easily sliding his tongue past your lips and pulling you closer by the small of your back. Then stands and casts a gaze down onto you that sends an arrow through your heart and a jolt of something obscene between your legs. You feel his hand on your chin and you're bent at his will, you look up at him.

"I could devour you." All you can do is nod, and he grins at you, "should I? Is that what you want?"

"Yes." The syllable meets his ears a breathless moan, your hands are fumbling with the last of the fabric covering him, and the only thing on the planet separating the pair of you, "yes, please, Halsin-"

"I'd never make you beg." He drags the hair off your forehead, "don't worry, everything you want, you'll get it, in due time."

It sucks all the air from your stomach, he brushes the fingers of his other hand, still wet from you, against your lips. If it had been a wordless command to open your mouth to him, you obeyed. If it hadn't been you must have looked particularly desperate.

He makes a grateful noise as your lips close around his two fingers, "calm down." His thumb brushes over your chin, "I'll take my time, but I won't deny you." When he pulls his fingers away he turns his hand to hold your face, gently squeezing your warm cheeks under his pointer finger and thumb.

"Halsin-" You wonder how he'd managed to turn the tables on you so quickly.

"What do you want, my love?" There's a sort of lustful tenderness in his voice when he says it, it makes you preen up at him.

Wordlessly you take him into your mouth, and as if on instinct you feel him gather and twist your hair in his fist, the other hand bracing on the tree behind you. He keeps his eyes on you, letting out thankful groans every time you take him in.

"Touch yourself." You feel his free hand, the one not fisting your hair, come down to rest heavily on the back of your neck, squeezing the curve the connects your neck and shoulder. All you can do is yield to him, of course you bring a hand between your legs. He bucks into your lips every time you moan.

When you look up at him the hand in your hair turns from an almost possessive hold to a firm guiding hand. His groans get lower and rumble from his chest. He's practically growling out his praises, egging you on.

"Do you want me?" You hear his breath hitch, he catches a choked off sort of noise in his throat, "quickly."

You nod against the tight hold of his hand and he lets you go.

"Come here. Please," he's pulling you up to stand, "come here to me." He lifts you up with ease, wrapping your legs around his middle and easily sheathing himself inside you. You let out a long, keening moan at the sensation and tilt your head back,

He's there, taking up the space immediately, kissing and nipping the sweat-slick skin, one hand holding your back the other in an almost bruising grip on your thigh.

"I know," he mutters it into your skin, starting to roll his hips into you, "i know, I know." He sounds almost sympathetic for your plight, but not quite.

Your moans are breathless gasps, some of his name, and some pleading for nothing in particular. You hold one hand on the side of his neck, the other searches for purchase in his hair.

"That's it," He's breathless himself, you can feel him heaving against your collar, you can feel his broad chest expanding with heaving breaths against you, "that's it, hold onto me."

You roll your hips desperately against him and he rewards your effort with teeth and tongue against your neck, favoring the soft skin at the base of your throat.

"Halsin," You're sliding your hands desperately along his body, yearning to touch every and anywhere, "please, Halsin-"

"I know," his other hand comes down to grip your thigh, "I'll take care of you, I promise I will." He's nosing at the tender flesh of your throat, accosted by his teeth, "come closer to me, please, closer-" He's wrapping your legs tighter around his middle, "you're doing so well." He praises you endlessly, between kisses and low groans.

First he kneels, then he lays you on your back, you were already on the cusp of an orgasm, the way he pulls your legs apart just makes you topple over the edge. He talks you through it, happy to watch and even happier to feel it. You feel his hand on your face again,

"Don't turn from me, don't deny me the sight of you. Look at me." Of course you do, it's all you can do actually, that and practically cry at the orgasm ripping through you. You can tell he's cumming when he's let your face go, you feel it smatter your inner thigh.

"Gods, Halsin-" He's already lowering himself between your legs, gliding lips up your thighs.

"You're right." He pulls you by your waist, guides you up and then down again, onto your chest. You burn with embarrassment from the exposure, and the feeling of his fingers gliding over your dripping sex.

He's dipping a finger into you, then another, it sends you keening.

"I know, I know I'm not being very....forgiving with you. You have to understand." It's not a bruising pace, but your sensitivity makes it feel that way. "I've been denying myself far too long. But, tell me if you can't give anymore."

You shake your head, "I can." You aren't sure why you say so, exhaustion made your arms and legs shake from holding your own weight, your whole body was slick with sweat from the bruising heat of the sun, and the unforgiving touch of Halsin. You were equally parts melted into his palms from his touch and the scorching rays of the sun. You liked it though, you wanted it, and every time he pulled away you found you immediately missed the touch.

You feel the sweat dripping between your shoulder blades, sliding to the small of your back. You feel his lips and tongue against your skin, following the divot of your spine.

"Tell me if it's all too much." He murmurs it into the low of your back, then he' guiding himself inside you again. You fist the ground below you as he does, you can feel your arms shaking, you will yourself to stay upright.

"That's it my love," he mutters it, almost under his breath, "that's perfect, you take it so well. Just like that." He holds the bend of your hips and snaps you backwards into him. You feel your arm start to buckle with your weight. You feel his eyes travel down your back, you listen to him groan.

"The gods spared no expense with you," he's squeezing your hip, using his hold to guide the pace of your rocking against him.

"Halsin-" You're heaving, he can hear the hitching in your breath, he can tell he's worn you thin and it pleases him. You arms give out underneath you and you swear to every god you can think of that you hear him laugh at you.

"I'll help," He twists your hair in his hand again and uses it to pull you up, pulling with it a wrecked sounding moan that he feels immediately in his cock.

You're practically weeping from the exhaustion, between the heat and the orgasms you felt melted into the floor, yet you begged for him to continue.

"You have," his grip on your hair tightens, pulling you up a bit more, "such a beautiful back, I don't think I've seen it before now." He uses your hair to pull you to your knees, seated in his lap. His hand holds your head by your chin now, tilting you to expose your throat to him.

"You do so wonderfully like this." His voice makes the your skin below his lips tremble, "did the gods make you just for this? For me?"

"Yes-" He could get you agree to total world demise right now, he seems amused by your answer none the less.

"They have?" His free hand is gliding easily between your heaving chest and stomach, occasionally dipping between your legs, "I'll need to make use of you more often, then."

You turn into him when your orgasm begins to spill over, nosing at his cheek and taking a deep breath of his scent. You feel his lips on the soft flesh behind your ear.

When you both finish you practically crumple into him, an arm slung over his shoulder.

"Was that all too much?" You feel his hand smoothing your hair, a tender almost delicate touch.

"No," You wrap your other arm around him too, "no it wasn't." You feel his lips on your temple, then your cheek. You're taking in deep thankful breaths, leaning all your weight on him.

"You're alright." His other hand is rubbing between your shoulder blades, calming your heaving breaths, "you're alright my love."

You card your hands into his hair, taking a thankful breath of him, "let's stay here a bit."

"Of course." His hand is massaging the nape of your neck wonderfully, "whatever pleases you my heart. I'll help you clean up, when you're ready."

He can tell you're dozing off, he'll let you rest for a bit he decides, leaning against a tree trunk.

He pulls your legs over his lap, and curls you as close to him as he can get you, "you must need the rest."

[sophswritingthings]

I Just binged your apothecary wife series (SO GOOD BTW) and hear me out

Mizu x reader, but reader is kinda similar in the sense that they pretend to be a man in public , OR fem presenting woman who knows how to fight. And basically them being a power couple

(Imagine reader has something like dual swords instead of a katana, or like something fun and cool) 👀👀

Also i want mizus gender so Bad

pairing: mizu x fem!warrior!reader

warning(s): swearing, blood, injury, uhhhh a little nsfw? I made it as sfw as I could with what my mind wanted to do 

a/n: dude. you guys are so SMART. and yes, I want mizu's gender as well. i already am having thoughts about fuckin next halloween 

summary: you had been mizu's dueling partner for years; and only recently had the two of you gotten together. you joined her on her quest to kill the three white men in japan. and you two are absolutely a power couple, ready to kick ass at all time—and your passion for one another grows day by day.

word count: 874 words / 4,710 characters 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

mizu came back up from her fight, covered in blood; severed limbs scattered around her. and there you were, her lovely partner, on the other side of the fight.

you were also drenched in blood, your hair tied back and a flower (which she had given you) tucked in your hair splotched with blood. you were wielding two swords in either of your hands, smiling at her.

she walked over to you, each step concise and filled with purpose. she gave you a quick kiss on the lips, making you drop your weapons at your sides. she always found it cute how you let your guard down so much with her.

“you still manage to look so beautiful, even like this,” she murmurs against your lips, brushing a hand through your dark hair. 

“as are you,” you whisper, titling your head back to give her access to your neck. she takes the gesture happily, pressing soft kisses on your neck. it drew soft sighs and smiles from you.

“we need to get cleaned up.” she murmurs, dragging you down the cliff. you still wore a kimono, to which you tucked you swords under.

you still needed to be seen as a lady, to pass by. underneath that little facade was the ass kicking badass that mizu loved so much.

you stopped at the ocean, a small tide pool closed off by rocks. she was stood behind you, slowly removing your blood soaked kimono and dropping it to the sand.

you shivered as the cold wind brushed your skin. your partner was behind you, breathing in your presence, kissing and biting the skin of your neck.

it felt so damn good, little soft moans and sighs escaping your lips as she did so.

mizu chuckled against your neck, standing up straight. she pulled your hair down from its updo, doing the same with hers. she tugged off her own blood soaked clothes, taking your hand and leading you into the warm tide pool. 

you hummed, sitting in your partners lap, your forehead pressed against hers. her fingertips gently caressed your waist.

you were so beautiful, like this. so kind and gentle on the outside of the that fighting persona; so sweet, so beautiful.

you had gone from being so serene and sweet to pissing her off.

you splashed water into her face, giggling as you did so.

she wiped the water from her eyes, opening those gorgeous blue eyes with an unimpressed expression. she raised an eyebrow, only slightly.

“I will kill you.” she hissed the words, but there was no truth behind those words. you knew what she said was bullshit, an empty threat.

she’d never lay a finger on you, well, not in that way, at least.

“ah, uh-huh, sure you will, my darling,” you giggle, wading backwards through the pool. “I would like to see your attempt.”

her expression changed with a smirk across her face now, her hair dripping wet as it felt on her face. the sight was one to behold.

mizu waded under the shallow water, grabbing your ankles and dragging you under with her.

you let out a little squeak of surprise, laughing as the bubbles floated to the surface. 

the two of you popped up from the water again, your body now pinned against the rough rocks. her soaking wet body kept you pinned there; your wrists firmly in her hands.

you giggle, “how the tables turn, I see,” you murmur, gazing up at mizu with hungry eyes.

mizu didn’t say a word, brushing your hair behind your ear. 

“uh.. mizu..?” you were getting worried from your partners silence, gazing back at her. she typically had some stupid thing to say in these kinds of situations.. but here she was, silent as the wind. “I-is everything okay?”

“I love you.”

those three little words left her mouth. 

your eyes went wide, gazing back at her. she had never said anything like this, not to you, not to anyone. you weren’t sure she even said it to herself.

“I love you more than I think you could even phantom,” she whispered, leaning into the crook of your neck, kissing tenderly. her body pressed yours, drawing a soft moan right from your chest.

“I..” your voice trailed off, trying to return the passion in which your lover showed you. “I.. I love you too..”

you whispered the words. you were too wrapped up in the moment, with the ‘I love you’ and the way she were pressed up against you.

you could hear her whispering tiny little I love you’s in between passionate kisses. It was clear she meant it; and she was going to make that clear. wether it was with words or actions, it didn’t matter.

you loved her so much.

you would most likely follow her to the ends of the earth, if she asked. and you knew she would do the same for you.

you were devoted to one another. as partners, as lovers.

devoted to your love, to your passion. It wasn’t an obsession, a worship, one sided.   you were equally devoted to one another; and that was clear from miles away.

she would tell you she loved you to her very last breath. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n: mizu is the person to get so devoted to her lover that she dies protecting them and I need that. I need it now

[ultrone]

rewatching s1 rn and im just imagining lottie as a gf >_< watching her go from so sweetie pie to cult leader would be such a ride but it’d be kinda hot. like as she got more into it, she would be taking you to the alter and eating you out because it’s what the wilderness needs

🫀 ♰ ┈ 𝗹𝗼𝘁𝘁𝗶𝗲 𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗯𝗲𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗱𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗮𝘀𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗼.

Your thighs were trembling, but the brown-haired girl between them held them firmly in place.

It was midnight when Lottie woke you up with urgency. She claimed to have received a vision from the wilderness, and she insisted that you needed to fulfill it that very night, under the light of the full moon.

You never expected the wilderness to ask for something like this—but… did it really?

You didn't mind, though, because the way Lottie's warm tongue flickered against your beating clit was enough to make all your thoughts disappear in almost an instant.

You were lying in the middle of an altar, resting on a soft blanket. A pretty crown made of flowers adorned your head, and a small symbol drawn with Lottie's blood rested on your forehead. Your hands were searching for something to hold onto, but all they could find was the dirt and rose petals scattered around you.

Your legs were outstretched and being held by Lottie's hands, as she slowly and insatiably licked your wet pussy from the bottom to the top, finishing the motion with an excruciatingly slow circle around your clit, then sucking on it repeatedly.

She looked lost in a daze, almost hypnotized. Her hair was messy, and her mouth was dripping wet, sucking on your centre as if her life depended on it. She was so eager—and hungry—that it felt like she was devouring you, giving out low groans as she tasted your sweet flavour.

"S-so fuckin’ good,” you babbled, unable to speak clearly as you felt her groans vibrate against your swollen clit.

"You have to give in, Y/n," she mumbled against your centre, "It's so hungry... It won't stop until you give in," she added, tightening her grip on your now bruised thighs.

Your hands instinctively flew to her head as you felt her tongue begin to penetrate your needy hole, gliding in and out of your walls as her nose rubbed against your abused nub. "I-I’m close,” you moaned out as you pulled her impossibly closer, feeling yourself near the edge.

She tightened her grip on your thighs and started sucking more forcefully. "—fuck Lottie,” you whimpered, squeezing your eyes tightly. Her tongue slid faster and faster around your clitoris, flicking it back and forth and softly biting at it with her teeth, making your back arc in pleasure and your vision turn hazy.

You released a few more loud moans before you came all over her mouth, drenching it and her chin with your cum.

As you caught your breath, your chest heaved rapidly, trying to recover, while your fingers in her hair gradually loosened their grip. She gently licked you a few more times as you came down from your high, allowing your muscles to relax completely. Once she finished cleaning you with her tongue, she slowly crawled up your body and positioned herself close to your face. Leaning in, she whispered in your ear, "You did really well."

Then, she shifted slightly and tenderly kissed your forehead, gently tucking a strand of her hair behind your ear. Resting her hand against your cheek, she gazed deeply into your eyes, her pupils dilated with desire. "The wilderness is now pleased with you," she began softly, "You'll see," she added with a gentle smile.

i know this was just a thought but it was so hot i had to write a blurb 😭 i’ve also been busy writing long fics and i wanna feed y’all more,, mwah <33

[scuttlingcrab]

A Hellish Dealer

Inspired by the Merchant Raphael that could've been, but now only exists in our imaginations. RIP. Gone but not forgotten. Thank you @firlionemoontav for the prompt idea and letting me know that we were robbed of Merchant Raphael!

Summary: Raphael isn't only a saviour, but a proficient salesman. After coming to Tav’s rescue, again, he offers the little mouse an item, straight from his Devilish line of goods, that he hopes will aid her in the fights ahead.

Link to my other work in the Devil's Archive.

(Image via devils-little-mouse)

Tav gasped for air, clutching at her chest. Her temples pulsed, her skull vibrating along with each thumping heartbeat. Her throat burned as she inhaled, like she had swallowed a bucket full of coal. It made her want to vomit, a cold sweat dripping from her forehead. Tav shivered, struggling to sit up. She eventually found the strength to hug her knees in a sad attempt to warm herself.

Without warning, memories flashed before her eyes. Just moments ago, she had been falling, her body plunging into something sharp. Pain jetted through her chest, a searing sensation stemming from the pits of her soul. Her companions' screams echoed in the recesses of her mind, their pleas for help, cries of agony had blended into one… until there was only quiet, her entire world consumed by nothing but shadows. 

Tav blinked, her eyes caked with dirt. She rubbed away the grime, her mind scrambling, attempting to put the millions of shattered pieces of this reality back together. She loosened the laces of her tunic, hoping that would give her some more room to breathe. Her hands stopped abruptly, running over a massive tear in the middle of her chest. She looked down, eyes widening at the discovery that her entire tunic was covered in dried blood. She instantly reached for her back, feeling an identical rip between her shoulder blades.

Tav’s chest tightened, spots of black dotting across her vision. 

Breathe, Tav. Breathe. 

She felt the floor with her fingertips. Stones. It was damp, slippery. 

She’s still here. Breathe. That’s it. 

She turned her head, attempting to look around, to search for her companions… but her vision was hazy, the specks of black refusing to leave her alone. 

Tav’s nose itched and she suppressed a cough, tears forming from the corner of her eyes as the scent of sulphur suddenly assaulted her senses.  

A large black shadow came into view, looming above her ominously. She blinked again and the area around her slowly came into focus, the shapeless being forming a clearer silhouette… and then a face. Their features morphed into something familiar. Big dark eyes stared down at her, the irises briefly flickering orange, like tiny flames. They were tall, their hair short and brown… 

Wait a damned second. 

“Raphael?” Tav whispered, confusion contorting her face.

Raphael smiled wide, bearing his teeth. He wore the same shit eating grin from when they first met on that bridge, when this entire fiasco began.

“It seems you’re not very perceptive after all, despite my countless warnings.” 

“Your… W-what?” Tav coughed, blood splattering on her palms. She immediately wiped it away on her trousers, growing more disgusted with herself. 

“The infernal markings, scattered throughout this Mausoleum. So simple I had assumed even a half-wit such as yourself could’ve spotted them.” 

Tav swallowed, another lump forming in her throat. Now that Raphael mentioned it, there were a bunch of weird symbols littered throughout the doorways of that stupid fucking Mausoleum, and a few of those scribbles suspiciously resembled arrows. She had shrugged them off, thinking it was some kind of joke or just someone’s sad attempt at artwork. Not actual warning signs from the Devil himself… pointing in the right bloody direction this entire time. They had been lost for hours, going back and forth one twisted hallway after another.

Well, Karlach was right… and Tav was a fucking idiot. 

Tav stood abruptly, hoping to cover up her festering embarrassment. As soon as she rose, the room rotated, faster and faster like she was caught in the middle of a windstorm. The floor came up to meet her in a blur and she shut her eyes, bracing herself for another explosive impact. She instead felt a sharp tug on her arm as her body was yanked to one side, promptly followed by a pleasant embrace. Tav leaned into the hold, enjoying the stillness and melting against the comforting heat radiating from… 

She opened her eyes, only to find herself snuggled in Raphael’s arms, her head resting against his chest. She held her breath as she glanced up at him. He winked in response and Tav blushed, her cheeks catching fire almost immediately. That damned face, that damned Devil… she never thought his smile could get any more condescending.

Tav ripped herself away from Raphael, wobbling as she tried to keep herself upright without his support, but it only got worse. 

“Oh Gods, I’m going to be sic–” 

The sound of a snap ricocheted throughout the chamber walls, settling her stomach and the spinning room simultaneously. 

“The little mouse, ever so hasty to escape the hands that saved it. You nearly soiled my favourite pair of boots. I will have you know, these are quite expensive.”

Tav held her hands out wide to keep her balance, shaking away any lingering bouts of nausea. 

“My f-friends… what have you don…”

“Oh, they aren’t going anywhere. Besides, I’d like a few more minutes alone with you.” Raphael paused, his eyes travelling up Tav’s body as if he was about to devour her for supper. “And please wipe that bewildered look off your face. Yes, that boney little cretin that lingers at your camp isn’t the only one who can bring mortals back from the dead. Now sit still, else you’ll ruin my handiwork.” 

There was another snap and Tav was transported away from the Mausoleum in a rush of sparks that tickled her skin. She materialised on a spacious balcony, her body gently fitting into a plush leather chair. The material stuck to her exposed skin like glue as she fidgeted. Tav inhaled sharply at the view, blood-red skies and an otherwise barren wasteland overtaking her vision. The air was thicker here, weighing on her shoulders like a heavy piece of armour.

“You’ve got to be kidding me…” Tav whispered, just as a dark Hellish cloud appeared on the horizon, growing more ferocious as it crept closer. 

Raphael sat in front of her, legs crossed and cradling a silver goblet. His eyes glimmered against the fiery skies of Avernus as he continued to gaze at her. Out of fondness or hunger? Tav had no fucking clue anymore.

A small table was placed between them, lined with a tray of refreshments.

“Let’s cut to the chase, shall we? I’d like to offer you some commodities for the fight ahead.”

“Hold on. Since when are you , the almighty Raphael, scary Devil-man who threatens foolish mortals, a vendor?” Tav leaned back, laughing hysterically. She watched as Raphael’s smile faded, a menacing scowl replacing any hint of amusement that had previously occupied his face. “Gods, I must’ve really, I mean really, hit my head back there.”

Raphael’s neck twitched and his eyes narrowed, but he remained calm, taking a sip from the goblet. 

“There is a whole world of services you’ve yet to discover that only I can provide. I just so happen to have an entire line of goods that are simply too Devilish to keep all to myself.”

“Do you think I have any bloody gold left? I don’t want anything from you. I just want to be done with this never-ending bullshit! As if this damned tadpole wasn’t enough, you have to be creeping and crawling around every corner! I’ve ju–”

Raphael leapt towards Tav, erupting into his cambion form. Tav cried out in shock as the table burst into flames, the bottles of wine and various jars of food exploding. She winced, covering her face to protect herself from the flying shards of glass. Raphael crushed the goblet in his hand like it was nothing but cheap, flimsy material. Wine oozed from his fist like blood, the liquid sizzling as it touched his skin.

He leaned closer to Tav, pointing a claw at her face. 

“I would hold that wretched, ungrateful tongue if I were you. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be nothing but a sack of flesh rotting on the shores of the Chionthar.” 

“Raphael, I’m sorry.” Tav muttered, her words barely audible against the thunder from the approaching storm. 

“I cannot hear your pitiful squeaks, little mouse.”

“I’m sorry.” Tav said again, her voice shaking. “I-I w…” 

She hid her face in her hands before Raphael could see her weep. She felt humiliated. Actually worse, like she was a spoiled child having a temper tantrum. Ungrateful. 

Tav choked on her tears, her body trembling against each emotional wave that crashed against her, destroying what was left of her self-control. The sadness was suffocating, her exhaustion crippling. She was just so tired. Of everything. Everyone. Fed up with being bent and moulded like she was merely a piece of metal in a forge. It wasn’t only Raphael. No . But her companions, pulling her in twelve different directions all at once, each with their own personal vendettas. And that tadpole, swimming around her brain, digging deeper and deeper into her subconscious. The sleepless nights, tossing and turning from the voices in her head. 

It was too much. 

“Why did you bring me back?” Tav muttered eventually. 

There was a brief pause as thunder cracked through the air, a hot gust of wind blowing across her hands.

“I’m not done with you yet.” Raphael replied, softly. 

“I hope you make it quick then. So the next time I fall you can just leave me to die in peace.”

“Yes…” Raphael began, delicately peeling Tav’s fingers away from her face, lowering her shield. He placed his own hand on her cheek, the warmth from his palm drying the tears that fell. He held his hand there for what felt like an eternity, and in truth, Tav didn’t want him to let go. She tried to look away, but she was drawn into his gaze; those dark, deceitful eyes, slowly losing herself the more she stared into that welcoming abyss. 

“I think I’m satisfied.” Raphael continued, releasing Tav from his hold. “Consider that my first and only warning. Next time I won’t be so… generous.”

Raphael returned to his seat and Tav let out a sigh, pressing her fingers to her cheek where the remains of his touch still lingered. 

He clapped his hands twice and a massive wooden wardrobe appeared behind him. He twirled his wrist, opening the double doors and showcasing an endless expanse of weapons, armour, and potions. He swiped his hand and the thousands of artefacts flew past him at a rapid speed. He hummed thoughtfully until he raised an index finger and stopped the movement, staring at a large metallic staff in front of him. It floated patiently, the metal was smooth and twisted, almost like silver vines.

“That’ll do nicely…”

Raphael moved his index finger and the staff flew out of the wardrobe, hovering before Tav.

“Feast your eyes on this . It can detect creatures who might not want to be found, simply activate the barrier with an intermediate incantation and nothing can hide within its boundaries. I think it suits your strengths just enough to get this next job done.” 

The staff bounced in the air as it twirled, beckoning Tav to touch it. She reached towards the staff, but Raphael yanked it away with the flick of his wrist. 

“Tut, tut. I don’t just hand things out for free, not even to my most treasured customers. I can give you a discount, however.”

Tav opened her mouth in protest but Raphael raised his hand dramatically to silence her. 

“Those soul coins, I can hear them screaming from your person. A far more satisfactory payment for my services. I don’t stoop so low as to accept gold .” Raphael practically shuddered as the words left his lips.

Tav hesitated, her hand resting above her trousers.

“Come now, Karlach doesn’t need them. If you give her any more, she’ll likely explode before you reach Baldur’s Gate.”

“How did you… riiight .” Tav muttered, nodding to herself. “You’ve got eyes and ears everywhere, yes, yes, I know.”

“Ah, has that tadpole riddled brain finally caught up?”

“Fine.”

Tav unclipped a leather pouch from her belt, digging her fingers inside it. She removed a soul coin and held it up to Raphael. 

“And for an additional soul coin I can throw in a few revivify scrolls, 4 for the price of 1. Seeing as you could barely walk the halls of the Mausoleum without falling into a trap meant for the undead. I simply don’t have enough time on my agenda to wait for you buffoons to drop like flies again. Which will undoubtedly happen, I can assure you. I might even bet you on it.”

Tav bit the side of her mouth, trying to keep herself from saying anything stupid to rile his temper a second time. She shook her head as she pulled another soul coin from the pouch. She placed both coins in her palm, extending it towards Raphael. He giddily accepted, snatching the Hellish currency in one showy movement. 

“Ta.”

Raphael inspected each soul coin carefully, rubbing his thumb over the jagged designs. He brought them to his ear, closing his eyes as he listened to music that Tav could not hear. He sighed with pleasure, nodding along to a silent melody. 

“Oh, how delicious. There is nothing that brings me more delight than the screams of doomed mortals. One of life’s simple pleasures.”

Raphael bounced the soul coins between his fingers, like he was trying to impress Tav with an amateur magic trick, until they vanished in a puff of smoke. The goods Tav purchased flew into her hands, nearly causing her to topple over in the chair.

“Well then, thank you for your business. I’ll be sure to keep my fingers crossed you can survive the next few hours. You know what’s at stake. Until we meet again.”

Before Tav could even utter her thanks, Raphael stood from his chair, gifting her with one of his flourishing bows. Her body was enveloped in another burst of sparks and just like that, she was swiftly returned to the Mausoleum. She unexpectedly found herself yearning for the stifling air of Avernus, her thoughts rushing back to Raphael. 

Tav stood in the same chamber, but she was no longer alone. Her companions were lying at her feet, just like the Devil had promised, groaning as they regained consciousness.  

“Gods, my head. That nearly ended us all…” Astarion whispered, jumping to his feet. 

“Yeah, what a fucking close call. Good job getting us out of that one, Tav,” Karlach added. She remained on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. 

“It would have been an undignified death.” Minthara said, rising to her knees as she released a healing spell. “And worst of all, my vengeance would have remained unquenched.”

Karlach laughed, using her elbows to lift herself up. 

“We’ll get that bastard Thorm soon enough, Minthara.”

Minthara huffed and the companions continued the idle chatter, their voices slowly fading from Tav’s focus.

Tav looked down at the metal staff in her hands, her grip tightening around it.

Right, she better not fuck this up. For all of their sakes.