#it’s surprisingly hard to render just blood

[panickingpagan]

!Gore warning!

Maybe spoilers??

A misty memory

My sally face hyper fixation used to strike like clockwork every December but skipped the last few years. It has since come back with a steel chair.

Ps moots interested in this game be warned, I love it to bits but it’s very intense so do ur research!

[tripleyeeet]

SICK LITTLE GAMES

SUMMARY: Astarion arrives to interrupt your sleep. Like always. PAIRING: Astarion Ancunin/Female Reader WARNINGS: 18+ sexual content, teasing, oral sex (fem receiving), overstimulation, blood drinking, brat taming if you squint real hard. A/N: I have no idea how this mother fucker got into my house but here we are. A little blast from the past.

MASTERLIST

-

​​The affection comes in waves. Like the ocean, they’re unpredictable and rough —enveloping you under the hurried embrace of an overly confident Astarion who often appears out of nowhere. The sensations of desperation always filling his features as he piles into your tent well into the night, still smelling of the viscera of his latest catch. 

Whenever it happens, you’re hardly ready for it. With sleep still in your eyes and the confusion of someone who’s seemingly just awoken from death itself, it always takes you a few moments to register that he’s talking to you. And, that his needy hands have already begun to pull at your clothes, adjusting the fabric in ways that better cater to his curious eyes. 

“Hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time,” he jokes. His voice low and hungry. A telltale sign that he’s here for something requiring not only your company but your undivided attention too, causing you to sigh. 

“Well, I was sleeping,” you say, your palm moving up to rub your eye, feeling the pressure that’s already begun to develop as revenge for not immediately taking care of your already lacking sleep schedule. “But some bastard decided to ruin that.” 

He tuts and further cages you against your bedroll, fingers idly stroking your exposed skin. “You want me to take care of them, love? Tear them to shreds for waking you up?” 

At that, you snort and move your knee towards the inner part of his thigh, spreading it slightly as a sign that, despite the interruption, you’re willing to forget his transgressions. “It’s alright,” you mumble. “I can handle him. He’s pretty weak.” 

“Weak?” 

You laugh at his dramatic response, your eyes slightly narrowing to better view the pout on his lips. His expression pinching in annoyance as you reach up and instantly try to smooth everything back out. “Apologies. I meant more so that he’s… distracted.”  

“Right, of course.” He releases a huff and lowers his face to yours, a petty smirk now appearing. “That makes more sense considering the rather precarious position he’s found you in.” 

“And what position might that be?” 

As you ask, you can feel his hands moving to grip your waist. The surprisingly tender feeling making you twitch as he bares his teeth in amusement. His expression shifting from slightly annoyed to completely enraptured in the span of a second thanks to the instinctual reactions you offer in regards to his touch. 

“Awfully willing to please,” he simply replies then, the coolness of his tone making you roll your eyes and raise your hands to pinch his cheeks.

“You’re disgusting, you know that? Crawling into my tent in the dead of night so that you can get off on my hospitality. Shameful.”

All he does is humorously hum and lower his face further, the warmth laced within your features spreading down the length of your neck as he aims to claim it with a kiss. “Be less complacent then.”

As if by routine, you open your mouth to argue further but quickly find yourself closing back up when his tongue darts out to taste your flesh. The slick, hot organ easily finding that spot that always seems to render you useless, causing your mind to turn off. Every verbal thought you once had vanishing against the movement of his hands hungrily holding your jaw and rising beneath your tattered tunic.

“I’d say be quiet so the others don’t hear but I see you’re already too blissed out to function,” Astarion chuckles, his lips brushing against you. The lack of previous contact leaving you writhing beneath him —hands moving to wrap around his neck in protest. 

“Hey Astarion, for once, can you not tease me?” 

He pretends to think for a moment, but ultimately refuses, showing his defiance in the form of slowed movements and a smirk that leaves you wishing you had the resolve to kick him out. “Mm, but what would be the fun in that?” 

Again, you huff in annoyance. Even though you’d already expected this the moment he first arrived. Considering Astarion’s never been one the type to simply give into anything, it’s no surprise that even in bed there always has to be a challenge or a game involved. Some sadistic form of foreplay that often causes the end result to unfortunately feel all the more worth it when it arrives, causing you to blindly follow.

“It’d certainly speed things up so I can—oh, fuck you.”

He wastes no time riling you up some more. Before you finish your increasingly irrelevant argument, you feel his teeth drag across your skin, the sharpest points grazing your most sensitive spot with ease. “Language, darling.”

Almost immediately, you press your lips together in protest. Refusing to give him the satisfaction of fighting further as he lifts his head to study you. His eyes focusing on the various sections of your face —memorizing every inch as his other hand draws patterns into your side. A feeling that becomes almost unbearable as time goes on. Thanks to the way he’s staring at you —eyes filled with the desire to ruin— you can’t help but feel impatient. Your body shifting beneath him to garner some sort of response that might speed things along. 

“I know what you’re doing.”

“Then hurry up,” you practically whine. No longer caring about how desperate you sound. Or how you look when you grip the collar of his shirt to yank him back down again. “Otherwise I’ll kick you out.” 

“Ha! No you won’t.” 

“I will.” 

Despite knowing otherwise, he concedes… slightly. Granting you the satisfaction of sharing the kind of kiss that starts off simple and sweet but quickly becomes tainted. The temptation of potential clouding your minds as Astarion reaches for the back of your head, gripping the roots of your hair —both of you pushing the other to gain control. 

Unsurprisingly, it ends up being him that comes out on top. After a long battle of teeth and tongues, he inevitably pries himself away to look down at your breathless form. Admiring the way your chest repeatedly rises and falls, attempting to suck in enough air so that you can scold him for his actions. 

“Gods, you certainly are adorable.” 

“Oh—shut up.” 

He laughs and shakes his head, moving a hand to your cheek. “No honestly, it’s incredible how much defiance one person can have,” he tells you, stroking your skin. “Normally, I’d have the average begging for release by now.”

“Not sure how resilience correlates to adorableness.” 

He presses another kiss to your mouth. This time refusing to satisfy. “Hm, it’s more the lack there of that I find adorable.” 

You roll your eyes. “Right, of course.”

In response, he lets out a laugh. Allowing the air to thicken around you. Your shared arousal fuelling the need to fall into your usual roles as you swallow hard and further spread your legs. No longer caring how submissive you look underneath his smug stare. 

“Right to the point, I see. How” —he pauses, leaning in to place another chaste kiss to your lips— “Dull.” 

All you do is huff and bump his thigh with your knee. The fussy action doing enough to disrupt his patience, causing him to scowl and grab your thigh, giving it a light squeeze.

“I see the lack of rest is making you testy.” 

You narrow your eyes and release him, forcing your arms to cross over your chest. “I’d say the vampire refusing to fuck me is more so the reason.”

“Oh hush.” Shaking his head, he reaches down to detangle your defiant arms so that he can better see you. His eyes immediately making their rounds in ways that do numbers on your heart as you continue to lay there, always cursed to endure this little game of his. “In no way am I refusing. In fact, if you quit being so huffy I might go the extra mile and linger a bit afterwards.” 

“Oh, my gods, like a sleepover?” you say sarcastically, bringing your hands up to hold your cheeks like a child. Prompting him to immediately swat them away as if the mere sight of them makes him want to vomit. 

Which only makes you laugh and reach for his face, pulling him down for another kiss that quickly becomes something more than intended. The simple act fuelling Astarion’s desire to progress. To pin you down further into the bedroll as he inevitably detaches himself, opting for other parts of your body to cling to as he makes his way down. The process of it all driving your mind wild as he effortlessly nips and sucks a series of markings into your skin. His own mind finding the blooms of colour to be rather beautiful as he continues down your neck and chest, lingering at your stomach before he pushes your shirt over your head to gain better access.

“Beautiful,” you hear him mutter then. His voice soft and low —an echo of your own thoughts as you glance down to see him sitting up to discard your pants. His hands tucking themselves under the waistband to awkwardly shuck them down as you lift your hips to help.

Then, everything moves at exactly the right pace. As Astarion continues his descent to settle between your thighs, there are no more words needed. Only the resolve to survive as his cold hands graze the edge of your cunt, pushing the fabric aside so that he can get a decent look before pushing his thumb through your folds.

“Unsurprisingly ready, I see,” he practically scolds, but in response you say nothing. Instead, opting to buck your hips ever so slightly to egg him on, causing a low sigh to waft gently across your skin before he gives in.   

At which point, you’ve already built everything up so highly in your head. The mere image of it making the actual act feel all the more satisfying as he begins to work your slit. Using both his thumb and tongue to taunt and tease —barely applying enough pressure to strengthen the imaginary band beneath your flesh. 

It’s horrific, you think. The ability he has to render you so completely willing and useless. Because not only is it simultaneously the best and worst thing you’ve ever experienced, but it’s obviously dangerous too. Bordering on a sign of weakness that has you whimpering for more as he eventually wraps his lips around your clit to suckle the sensitive skin. Humming in response to the sounds that slip from your lips as he continues to stimulate the surrounding area.

“Fuck, Astarion—“

Your voice catches. Failing to continue once it dawns on you that words aren’t really necessary right now. Not when he’s giving you what you want in the form of nips and licks that become almost pressurized once you feel the presence of his nose begin to make its way down. The end of it nudging the space where his mouth once was. Acting as some sort of placeholder as his tongue begins to ravage your folds in ways that make your eyes practically roll to the back of your head. Your mind emptying to make room for your body to take over, causing you to reach down and grab the roots of his hair for something to anchor to. 

Something you know he enjoys based on the hum that reverberates against your entrance. The sensation of it only furthering your arousal as he picks up the pace, driving you closer and closer to the edge with rough fingers that begin to push inside of you. Each one curling to stack the pleasure until you’re writhing beneath him —panting so loud that you’re sure the whole camp can hear you. 

Not that you care, though. Not when Astarion’s pumping his fingers so ruthlessly. Not when he’s lapping hungrily through your flesh. Not when he’s moaning against your cunt, begging for you to let go. 

In fact, the only thing you care about is the feeling of that final snap. The aforementioned band cracking against your base to create a series of punishing aftershocks that have you raising your hips. Your body moving to get away but finding itself unable when Astarion roughly moves to hold you down, continuing his ministrations as you cover your mouth to stop yourself from waking up the entire bloody camp. 

Which only serves as fuel for him to lift his head and look at your writhing form. The entirety of you twitching and squirming as his fingers remained locked in their routine, unable to stop due to how delicious you look pleading for him to stop long after he’s dipping his head back between your thighs to sink his teeth into the plushest part. Drawing enough blood to feed as you cry out, no longer able to fight him.

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 129 }

sleeping to dream about you.

(p)inocchio x reader

{ fell out of bed, butterfly bandage, but don't worry | you'll never remember, your head is far too blurry }

"pinocchio! where are you going?!"

your voice calls out to the automaton with dark locks of chestnut hair. a storm was brewing in krat, and the needle like rain that was felt pelting against your skin was making it harder for you to breathe.

you were chasing after him, watching his back as he kept on retreating even further away from you. your heart was hammering within the confines of your throat, filling you with a sense of despair.

because you knew that the moment pinocchio left you, then you would never see him again.

you tried to chase after him, but his figure forever remained just a mere inches away from your grasps; and each time you called out to him, you found that your voice grew smaller and smaller in tone. it became much worse when you were suddenly rendered unable to speak.

with a helpless cry, you continue to chase after him, reaching out to him with a desperation felt festering within the deepest depths of your soul-

you wake up with a gasp, suddenly finding yourself at the edge of the bed, with your arms flailing precariously as you lost your balance. seeming to sense your distress, pinocchio sits up from his spot in bed.

his calm voice calls out to you, but it was too late. you were already making your descent, falling out of bed with the least amount of poise you could muster. yet before your back could meet with the harsh coldness of the marble floors, pinocchio manages to place you within his embrace.

the puppet ends up taking the brunt of the fall, with you resting against his cold, hard chest. a grunt of pain manages to escape from your parted lips, and you felt the blood rushing through your ears while struggling to focus.

for the longest time, you and pinocchio just remained settled on the floor of your shared bedroom, your beloved puppet not saying a word. you could feel his non-legion hand gently caressing at the back of your head when he asks, "what's wrong?"

letting out a shaky sigh of his name, you meet with pinocchio's gaze, relishing in the true blue quality of it before gently touching at the freckles that littered his cheek. "it's nothing, love. you might think it's stupid."

he says nothing, merely placing a hand behind your head while holding you close. you could feel his body twitching in response, his soft voice telling you, "it isn't nothing. you looked genuinely terrified the moment you fell out of bed."

you cling to him, hiding your face within his chest before admitting to him. "i had a nightmare that you left; that you had gone somewhere... a place i knew i could never follow you to."

the last sentence comes out in a whisper, as if your fears would come into fruition the moment you said those thoughts aloud. yet pinocchio remains the same as ever, never once letting you out of his surprisingly gentle embrace.

after a few bouts of silence, he finally spoke.

"i'm still here."

"i know."

"i'm not going anywhere."

"i know."

"i won't leave you because you need me... and i need you."

his sudden confession makes you lift your head to look at him- really look at him as you caught sight of his phantom smile, being so small that you would have missed it had it not been for the fact that you knew pinocchio like the back of your hand.

he was kind and loving;

and him being a mere puppet would never change that.

when he sees you returning his smile, pinocchio picks you up while standing back to his full height. not daring to even let you go, he keeps his arms gently wrapped around your form, pushing up the covers of the bed before laying back down on it with you in his loose embrace.

your heart began to race slightly, feeling drowsy once more as you cuddled closer to him.

"pinocchio...?"

"hm?"

"thank you, i love you."

with those words lingering in the air, you finally fell back asleep, feeling pinocchio's cool lips pressing against your forehead as proof that he had heard every single word that you said.

a.n. - i have missed writing for lop!pinocchio so much! 🥹 this isn't anything fancy, but i hope you readers enjoy it all the same ♡

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[pauking5]

Addicting Taste ~ Chapter 1 ~

Ongoing Series

Synopsis: Enishi Yukishiro was on a mission to execute his piece de la resistance. A plan to avenge his beloved sister. Until you showed up, rattling open the icy closed gates of his heart. Will you be a part of his downfall or will you try to save him?

Pairing: Enishi Yukishiro x fem reader oc

Genre: strangers to lovers, sunshine and grumpy, slow burn, a lot of fluff, occasional smut, angst by the bucket

Words: 6.7k +

A/N: I couldn’t hold back anymore and had to make a fic for Enishi. It won’t exactly follow the Rurouni Kenshin timeline for now but it will later develop into it. This is the first chapter in the series with more chapters coming. It is a reader insert as I couldn’t help but indulge myself in it completely. Powered by Mackenyu’s outstanding portrayal of Enishi’s character in Rurouni Kenshin: The Final, I hereby present you a story ripped from the figments of my mind. I hope you’ll love their story as much as I do. Enjoy lovelies, Paula.

Also thank you @eureka-its-zico for supporting me with this and getting me writing again 🫶

Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Bonus Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11

“Just how stupid are you?”

A loud smack echoed in the room upon connecting with his cheek, heavy rugged palm twisting his face to the side. He clicked his jaw menacingly, facing forward once more with another devilish smirk.

“You thought you could just get away with it?”

Another heavy punch collided with his face, this one making him drop to his knees. He might have been kneeling, completely at the mercy of someone with much more power in command, but this show of authority trying to assert him into submission did absolutely nothing for him.

Lest the displeasure of being Shanghai's commander in chief's unexpected catch of the night. Maybe even the catch of his whole career.

“You’re a fool.”

Heard that one before, he prepared to spit out like burning acid crawled out of his throat.

Just as the rims of his mouth opened to let the words out, he got cut off by an uppercut digging hard under his chin, throwing his body backwards. He tasted iron on his lips. The force of the blow made blood pool in his mouth surprisingly. He didn't think the old man capable of this much damage but as it turns out he had a thing for facial damage. A pleasure Enishi wanted so badly to return.

Spitting it out through clenched teeth at the side, staining the limestone carpet with crimson splotches to redecorate the man's office with a little color. He would've added other shades of red to the whole carpet, rounding it up on each and every shimmering golden seam until everyone in the room contributed. If only his hands were not bound behind his back, constricting most of his movement.

The man standing tall before him left his face full of cuts and bruises. But that was the least of Enishi’s worries right now.

Many months were spent tracking down the biggest shipment of weapons set to leave Shanghai for Kanagawa. Tonight, Enishi’s men were supposed to rob the storage by the docks completely dry before the ship set sail in the morning with empty cargo. But it turned out to be a harder task than it was intended to be.

He couldn't tell where it all went wrong.

Was it just bad luck? That would've been a first under the remarkable security he had around the area.

Was it a tip-off from the inside? Highly unlikely. If that was the case, he would've smelled the motherfucker who chirped before they even thought it possible to cross him.

Whatever it was, changed the course of the whole plan, rendering it nothing short of a total fail.

That fail was also what led to his current position - with his hands tied roughly behind his back, bloody with his patience running thinner with each breath, lying on the floor of the most secure precinct in Shanghai.

A few hours ago

“These dumplings are amazing,” you sighed happily, munching on three baozi dumplings at once.

The lady vendor grimaced at you. Well, less at you and more at your clear lack of manners since you were practically inhaling the soft dough before it even landed in the palm of your hands like a famished grizzly bear.

Leftover crumbs decorated the edges of your lips as you chomped down on the dumplings. You forgot all about etiquette when the food literally melted in your mouth. Heaven was definitely found in food and not in the afterlife and these little desserts were the very proof of it. Your stomach also agreed with that claim every time your mouth touched dumplings in any shape, form or filling.

Who could resist those plump, freshly made babies?

Not me. Ya'll stay safe though.

A little boy walked by with his mother when he caught sight of the dumpling cart. He ran to the cart gluing his face to the glass to watch the lady work the next batch. His breaths fogged up the glass as he gaped at the steaming dumplings in awe and adoration. But when he turned his head and saw the way you were devouring the small pastry like a goblin from the woods his face turned to pure disgust.

What do you want child, you muttered, cheeks filled with the new cherry filling you were trying out. He said nothing, continuing to stare you down as if you had some unresolved business with him.

You were getting annoyed by his staring, so you shot the little boy a slightly threatening look in hopes he would turn back to watch the magic dough rather than try to make enemies with you. Instead he started crying, running off in the direction he came from. You watched until he got tinier and tinier, disappearing somewhere in the depths of the street.

His mother watched the whole exchange from behind you. Upon meeting her burning gaze, she regarded you with a condescending look then followed after her child.

You turned back to your dumplings, chewing slowly in guilt. It wasn't your fault children had the temperament of the unpredictable weather forecast. The vendor lady did not seem to share your opinion, pinning you with an icy authoritative glare typical of her generation. The one that usually scared off the youngsters.

“Can you leave before you scare all my clients away?” she said, irritated with the fact that you’ve been hogging her cart for the past half an hour and you didn't look like you would be leaving anytime soon.

“Listen lady, I am your only client. Plus, I could buy your whole cart if I wanted to. Just let me enjoy these,” you said with your mouth full, reaching for another bag of dumplings on sale. She smacked your hand away, looking down at the bags you were already holding safely on your chest.

“I’ll be the one leaving then," she hissed as she started to put away the steaming buns away and gathered all her tools, folding the cart faster than you could catch up to her. "You might spoil my dough from raising if I stay here any longer,”

“Wait! You can’t just leave -"

By the time you yelled after trying to stop her from leaving with the heaven-sent goodies, she was already gone. Old ladies really are a different breed these days, you thought. Cooking, knitting and chit-chatting were activities that seemingly didn't provide them with enough soul sucking out of people to their heart's content.

Anywho, there went your only meal for the day. At least it was a nice filling one to last you some time and kick in some energy your body desperately needed. You looked down at your stomach with a sigh, patting in a comforting manner before you turned to go on your own way.

The crisp air of mid-October made its presence felt as an icy gust blew against the sleeves of your cotton dress making the material flutter and fill you up with cold air. Your attire was nothing short of inappropriate for the lingering cold season, but the leather bits, like the corset laced up over your chest or the pants under it, kept a fraction of warmth with you.

The chilly weather made it harder to do any jobs, take out hitlist services not requested as much in this period of time. Rage requests usually came with the hot scorching summer rather than the fall of the first autumnal fog. That meant you never knew where your next meal would be coming from most of the time, so you powered through with anything you could find. Though your money was slowly running on empty, you always made sure to keep some aside for your delicacy cravings.

Only mad people walked the streets of Shanghai, the city of all things food confectionery, without indulging in at least one treat from the vendors. Broke or not, you emptied your pockets here on good measure.

There was a downside to all good things in life.

The once bustling street, buzzing with chatter and sizzling pans where savory and sweet scents danced in the air, turned awfully quiet with nightfall. It was the norm in this part of the city. Vendors were quickly packed away and activity was slowly coming to a halt in the wake of the coming night. Any normal person in these parts would know that being on the streets when the last flicker of daylight disappears wasn’t safe in the slightest.

Who would want to be out in the dark with the Shanghai mafia having a full blown war with the commander in chief on the streets until the early hours of dawn? Definitely no one in all faculties of the mind or at least some.

Clutching the rest of your dumplings closer, you made your way down the narrow pathways circling the outskirts of the city. As you padded the cobblestone road, windows hatched closed, doors shut and all light dimmed to ward off danger. The people of Shanghai lived in fear of this war every night. You did too. But at least you had weapons and could defend yourself in case of anything.

The place you resided in for the time being was just a hop down from the city docks. It was a modest room at the top of an abandoned jewelry shop, furnished with a desk, a small wardrobe, and a corner to store the little belongings you carried around. It was not the comfiest nor the safest place in the world, but it provided a space to roll your futon for the night and that was as good as anything.

The bags in your hands shuffled with each step you took. You cast a look at the buns, the delicious smell still wafting up to your nose even as they were covered and tucked inside the paper. On impulse, you bought a bunch of different flavors with all kinds of fillings you haven’t tried before. Just thinking of taste testing all of them made your mouth water and your step quicken with happy strides.

Whilst getting lost in your pastry daydreams, you were shaken back to earth by persistent yelling. As you were making your way further down to the docks, more agitated shouting ensued and the quick pace of your walk slowed down. You were far away from the entrance, unable to really see anything, but the growing commotion piqued your curiosity.

It wouldn’t hurt to take a closer look, right? It's in the way anyway, you shrugged.

Inching closer to the side of the docks entrance, you hid behind an abandoned fishing boat perched up on empty fishing crates. They might've been rusty from being left outside for god knows how long but they still smelled like few days old catch that went off. Ignoring the horrendous smell and tucking your petite form well enough so you wouldn’t be spotted, you looked over the edge of the boat to see what was going on.

Moving your eyes around you counted about twenty masked men, all dressed in black with swords attached to the hip. Mercenaries. You didn't need to see more than the blades and their eyes to be able to tell they were possibly wanted people.

Most of them were frantically rushing in and out of the biggest storage on the other side, holding cases filled with… guns?

As more of them came out you realized it wasn’t just guns - there was long and short range artillery, fuses, even more blades and all kinds of artisanal bombs. It looked like the place to be for pyromaniacs and sadists. Depending on which category took your fancy, there was something for every sin you wanted to commit, from arson all the way to testing out painful killing methods.

Whatever these guys were planning was nothing short of mass destruction.

“We’ve secured all the weapons, Master,” a shushed voice spoke in Japanese from your right. He came closer, standing right in front of the boat you were using as a hiding spot.

He looked about half a person in height. If a wild gust of wind blew his way he would most likely topple over and become dust. Besides that, what caught your attention was the unsure nature of his Japanese accent. He definitely wasn't Japanese but whoever he talked to just now was because they replied in a grave pronounced tone, one hundred percent of Edo origin.

“Good work,” said a deeper voice from the left as he approached too. The way he spoke those simple words was enough to make tremors run down your spine in sheer thrill.

Weird, you shook them off trying to get a better view of the owner of the voice. A curly, tangled mop of white hair entered your vision. The roots were darker than the silvery ends shimmering in the pale blue moonlight.

Damn, this guy was long overdue for a haircut. And a hair dye session. Who was this gramps?

Trailing your eyes further down you took in his sturdy physique that was outlined through the clothes he was wearing. Wait. This is no gramps body. You could tell he was trained in some kind of martial arts. No one just walked around with heaps of muscles like those. You could easily draw a map of the world between those wide shoulders if you focused hard enough on just what lay beneath those tight, crunched up cotton creases- Snap out of it, Miyu.

The loud crash of crates rattling to the floor brought you back to reality. You weren't supposed to be there, eavesdropping and peeking like a spy when these people could probably cut you to pieces in one breath.

I need to get out of here ASAP.

You couldn’t risk getting caught and brought in by the commander in chief. If he wasn’t alerted yet he sure got wind of things by now. That man definitely has mutant senses. You didn't need to get caught by this mafia either because from the looks of it they definitely were part of one.

The last thing you needed was them catching wind of your location. You've spent so long staying under the radar and now was not the time to advertise your whereabouts like you were the main specialty on sale in the morning newspaper.

I am void. I don’t care. I haven’t seen anything.

I am not getting involved with this.

Repeating that mantra several times in your head in order to calm down, you had to figure out a way to sneak out as smoothly as possible without alerting anybody. Not even a fly and especially not the strong muscular white mop of hair who hasn’t moved at all from his spot right in front of you. He was probably one of those people gifted with extended field of vision that could see the world in one side to side look like a bird, so any move or choked breath of yours would fall on his alarm sensors instantly.

After a quick scan of your surroundings, you came to two viable options that would help you avoid getting skewered: going left, straight through the docks and to your hideout located just on the other side; or going right, having to circle around the whole city to get back.

It wasn’t hard to figure out which one was safer. You’d rather go around the whole city as many times as you needed if it meant staying away from whatever they had planned. You just had to wait for the right time to make your way out.

Any minute now...

The two continued supervising the undercover operation, not once moving away. Not even one accidental turn of their heads somewhere else.

More like any day...

If you didn't know any better, you'd think they picked up on your scent and were just waiting for you to breathe through the wrong nostril before they jumped you. The singular possibility of that drenched your spine with cold drops of nervous sweat. You've done the stake out thing a million times before, but this one was somehow so different - gut twisting in churns and knots like you took a hit of deja vu different. Like disaster waited patiently at those rusty gates to catch and cradle you sweet like a lover from the very moment your eyes first laid on the docks tonight.

After an agonizing long while, the two men blocking your view finally moved, heading towards the rest of their squad on the other side of the docks. That was your chance. All you had to do was get set, lift your ass from the floor and sprint the hell out of there before someone caught you and made you fish food.

If only things would play out like that but they rarely do for normal people.

Raising to half your height, trying to keep cover behind the boat, you turned to the right. In your rush to escape, you missed a teeny tiny key detail that was in your way to freedom - a dark brown fishing cord extending from the boat to the other pile of empty crates behind you.

You didn't see it in the darkened confined space around you and if you did, you took notice of it too late, barely making it two steps before your leg tangled in it and you were falling face first to the hard concrete floor, taking the crates behind with you. Disaster caught up to you, smiling sickly at your futile attempt to escape so easily.

The steaming buns you tried so hard to keep close spilled all over the ground in the process. That was the least of your worries. What should've worried you was that you just made the loudest sounds known to man that were probably heard under the sea. The clangs from the metal cages rattling on top of each other before crashing to the ground with a thud, rolling into other piles like rumbling waves of a raging sea, echoing deafeningly in your ears.

Once they stopped, the loud screeching of the crates was replaced by the loud beating of your heart with the realization that your body was halfway exposed to the other side of the docks. In full view for anyone to snap your details. The danger alarm rang multiple times in your head but your body just refused to move.

There was nowhere for you to run without getting caught now.

I’m. so. fucked.

“What was that?” growled one of the masked goons on the other side.

Mophead stopped in his tracks, muscles in his back contracting with impending doom. He turned around swiftly, faster than a wild feline, locking eyes on you. Lifting your own gaze from your uncomfortable spot on the floor, you connected it with his. You choked on a breath caught halfway in your throat before it could reach your lungs.

Dark black eyes akin to predators that lurk in the dead of night pierced yours. They screamed murder. The ‘chop you apart for funsies’ kind of murder, in a silent, more maniacal and lethal manner than serial killers normally sported.

But something about those eyes caught you off guard. He was just a few feet away. Close enough to reach for you and squeeze the life out of you. Close enough to catch the blue hue outlining his pupils. Something about those eyes, though eerie and downright terrifying, awaking every urge to take off to safety, was so oddly familiar that it froze you in place.

Where have I seen these eyes before?

He seemed to be stuck in his own reverie, fixed on your own for a good while. A tilt of his head could only signal his confusion to your presence. Or was it recognition? It could be both.

You don’t even know how long you were both stuck soul searching each other until the roaring sound of gunfire descended down on the docks.

Breaking your staring contest apart, you frantically craned your head behind trying to locate where the firing came from. Then it dawned on you.

The commander in chief is here. Knowing him, he was just waiting for his cue to shine like the superstar pawn of the government he is.

Mophead set off in your direction, most likely to grab you, but he only managed to take a step before bullets lined up a few feet in front of him. With a low grunt, he spared you one last deadly stare marking you as a new enemy to his possibly extended list before retreating back to his gang.

The bullets flew closer and closer to your spot and the intense smell of gun powder filled your nostrils. This was your cue to exit stage. In any direction at this point.

You got to your feet in seconds, saving what was left of your steamed dumplings and made a run for it. A few bullets narrowly grazed the low ends of your dress but you quickly made it to the safety of a dark alleyway close by.

Checking on your precious dumplings in the crumpled paper bags, you saw most of them were unharmed and let out a breath of relief. Then you cursed yourself for leaving your weapons on your neatly folded futon the one time you could actually make use of them.

The blaring gunshots halted all of a sudden. The docks were quiet again. Way too quiet. Strange. Did they run out of ammo this fast? I thought the police got endless resources in that field. Nevermind that, the mob had thousands of them at hand, itching for a little assembling and bullets. A showdown between a gang and the authorities couldn't have just ended this fast. Something felt off.

You made sure the shadow of the brick wall covered you whole before peering over to the docks from the corner of the alley. Assessing the situation, you noticed that half of mophead’s party was shot down by the commander’s force. Blood was everywhere, splattered on the cement from the entrance as far as you could see. Possibly all the way to the other end of the pier. Big and burly bodies that were swarming the warehouse and executing orders just moments ago, now laid lifeless next to and on top of some of the crates filled with weapons. Some of them managed to flee the scene when the firing started, abandoning ship cowardly. The rest of them that were still alive and kicking were captured and put in restraints to be taken into custody, together with their leader who must have been a ticking bomb of rage on the inside by now.

The more you looked at it, you didn't take him for someone that would get caught so easily. He gave the impression of the superior kind of thug. The type that calculates and plans until all doubts, variables and collaterals were executed off the table.

Something didn't add up.

What is really peculiar was that this part of the harbor was not even on the open side, clearly to make the storing of arm supplies as reclusive as possible. But anyone who wanted a hit and run, quick and fast, could flee the scene absolutely undetected under the safety of nightfall. The only way you could get caught was if someone chirped like a hummingbird, loud and close to the commander's ear. You nearly giggled at the possibility until you took another look down at the pier and all amusement in you dissipated.

Maybe it was the smug look on the commander’s face as his men rounded up the thugs. Or the way most of his force came out from what looked like stationed places at the other end of the docks entrance. Even the sure nods the officers shared as they shoved the last of the goons to their knees behind their leader.

It almost seemed like they knew mophead and his crew were going to be here tonight, set on stealing the armament.

No way.

Was this a set up?

Back at the precinct

Enishi was fuming.

Things went sideways too quickly for his liking tonight. The only feasible explanation was that someone talked and he was going to make sure they weren’t seeing the light of day under his watch. Once he made it out of the shithole he was currently held in that was. Which seemed to be somewhere in the far future.

The old man ceased his relentless show of authority punches, changing the plate for questioning, trying to intimidate Enishi. Too bad. Having the man breathe opium smoke in his face did not phase him at all.

“I’m going to ask again," sneered the commander, puffing up his chest with another intake of the drug. "Why were you stealing weapons?”

His patience was running thin, beyond irritation, showing in the way the veins on his neck strained. But he could press on as much as he wanted. Enishi wasn’t going to give him shit.

“Either you talk or your good for nothing squad will suffer in your place.”

He really thought he did something with that line. Those men were disposable. The real ones waited back at the base. He wasn't mad to deploy them for a mission that was supposed to be easy. But this was probably the last time he employed outside resources for a mission.

“I don’t give two flying fucks about them,” spat Enishi. He hoped some of the drops of blood flew to land on the commander's face.

That geature only earned him another punch, this time deep to the stomach. The guards who were holding him let him drop to the floor, more blood dripping on the side of his mouth.

The commander handed his pipe to one of the officers, discarding his coat on a chair before letting his fingers work to roll the sleeves of his shirt up. He moved around his golden desk furniture with the grace of an old dragon, aware of the ways of the world. That was what he wanted his assailants to believe. Truth be told, he was nothing but a puppet for the higher ups.

“I guess I’ll have to beat it out of you then,” said the commander, cracking his knuckles.

Bracing for the commander’s punishment, his thoughts wandered somewhere else. Not to the mission. Not to the missing weapons. Not to his men. But to the girl who was there tonight, hiding behind the boat.

He wasn’t stupid. He sensed someone was eavesdropping from somewhere. It just wasn't in his benefit to do something about it when they weren't showing up to lay claim to the weapons or to stop him from taking them.

But you weren’t supposed to be there. You were a variable in his plan that he couldn’t have predicted. A wildcard? A hidden weapon he could've used? He didn't know. Where a handful of questions swarmed around in his head, three of them stood out the most, distracting him from the incoming hit to his side.

Why were you there tonight?

Who were you working for?

And where have I seen you before?

Ten armed guards at the front of the building. Another two securing the entrance from the inside. Five more moving around the halls. None on the top floor.

Bingo.

Sliding open the glass window on the roof of the precinct, you snuck in quietly. You landed down swiftly, arching your heels like a cat to keep you steady. Stealth mode switched on in your head as you carefully inspected your surroundings.

The top floor is clear.

Tightening the grip on your twin Remingtons, you straightened and advanced to the walls on your right, opposite to the railing on the other side overlooking the secured entrance. No one seemed to be on this level at all.

As you rounded the corners, you spotted a staircase going down to what looked like a meeting hall.

Angry shouting and what resembled the sound of slapping got louder the more steps you descended. Someone was either receiving a beating or they were just into kinky shit.

You were on the last three steps when a guard's boots fell in step close by. Aligning yourself with the wall, you became one with the shadows. You held your breath, keeping your heartbeat under control as well as any other signs that could get you spotted. On the inhale, he walked by. On the exhale, he continued on his path. As he got further away, you tilted your head towards the glass ceiling and released the breath you were holding.

This was a terrible idea.

What were you even doing here in the first place? This was not your fight.

But your conscience convinced you that you were somehow responsible for the unsuccessful outcome of mophead’s mission. Call it remorseful helping.

You weren’t supposed to be there tonight. It was just incidental. Your stupid craving for dumplings made you come out of your extremely comfortable refuge and one thing led to another and you found yourself in the middle of the crossfire. The very thing you hoped to avoid at all costs.

Without thinking too much of your bad choices for the day, you geared up to save mophead. You didn’t know why you were going this far for someone you didn’t know. But you felt needed for once in a while and like you finally had a job to do. That and the fact that the betrayal under his command hit a little too close to home.

There was something else that bothered you about your encounter with him. The moment he locked eyes with you was branded into your head like a burn wound. Your brain replayed it over and over again for no specific reason until it drove you crazy.

Those eyes bugged you to the world’s end. There was something so addicting and familiar to them. But you couldn’t recall where you’ve seen them before no matter how hard you tried.

You needed to find out who this man is. So, like any normal person looking for answers, you went to ask him. Well, you will ask him. As soon as you busted him out of the most secure precinct in Shanghai.

In the meeting hall

“This would be so much easier if you just talked,” yelled the commander in chief.

“How about… fuck you. Good talk,” said Enishi with a sick grin.

“You son of a—,” the commander was cut off by the sound of shots being fired outside the meeting hall. Grunting and yelling ensued for a good minute until everything turned quiet. Everyone’s ears perked up listening for what could follow.

A powerful kick thundered against the golden door to the hall, making it come off its hinges and cave in on itself. The bolts creaked, splintering on the sides and the door fell with a loud thud. You stepped over it, the click of your heeled boots bouncing off the echo in the room.

All eyes were trained on you.

“Who’s ready to have some fun?” you chirped, enthusiastically twirling the guns in your hands. They landed perfectly in your hold and you cocked them right at the men in the middle of the room.

“Who are you?,” asked the commander in chief.

“Let’s just say I’m someone you don’t want to mess with,” you said confidently.

“You’re just a stupid girl if you think you can just come in here —“

“This stupid girl just took out most of your guards on duty. It will be her utmost pleasure to take you out too,” you said with a smirk.

Enishi was watching the exchange, his head swimming with confusion for the second time tonight.

Just who exactly were you? And why were you crossing paths again? Also, were you insane to just waltz in the commander in chief's lair like that?

You first show up as a hindrance to his plan and now you’re here to probably mess up more than you already have. He was also kind of blaming you for the situation he was in at the moment. You weren't of any help in his eyes.

At least you proved useful in distracting the guards and the commander so he could work on getting his hands free of the rope tugging at his wrists. Okay, maybe you were useful.

Looking over at mophead, you noticed he freed himself. You haven’t worked in a team in so long so you threw him a look asking for guidance on what to do now. What he saw however, was more of a weird face that kind of creeped him out, but he quickly caught onto what you meant.

He wasn’t sure whether to trust you. But he didn’t have the luxury to audition for partners right now. So, sending a silent nod your way, you let the fun begin.

Mophead lunged for the commander in chief while you preoccupied yourself with the five guards in the room. You easily took out the first one by the couch at the side. Pointing your gun to the next one, you pulled the trigger but nothing happened. You tried the other gun receiving the same vacant response. You were left without bullets having emptied most of them on the guards outside.

Strapping the guns back to your belt, you took a fighting stance and beckoned the officers to you.

Hand to hand combat it is.

The closest guard lunged at you and your fist connected with his nose. A loud crack echoed upon contact, blood seeping through his hands as he cradled his nose.

“You bitch—,” you cut him off by hooking your leg to the back of his neck, dragging him to the floor.

“Did your mother not teach you how to speak to a lady?”

He got back up and got ready to throw another snarky remark but you wasted no time in shutting him up with a nearby chair. The wood broke to pieces as it made contact with him, knocking him out cold. Once he fell to the floor, you directed your attention at the other three guards that started circling you from different sides. Showtime.

You let them come at you. The taller one came first, swinging a baton at your head. Ducking successfully to avoid having your head turned into a baseball, you went for a roundhouse kick to his head. He got projected to the other side from the force you put into the move.

The last two attacked you at the same time. One of them had a knife that managed to get a few cuts through the sleeves of your dress as he kept swinging at you recklessly. He wasn't even looking where he sent his blade. He probably just hoped they got you. If this was the training they got the armed forces were doomed.

You huffed disappointedly as you lifted a slashed piece to check the damage. “I just got this one."

Getting annoyed with his incessant flailing about, you caught his hand just as a slightly smaller in stature officer came from behind you. Kicking back your right leg into the stomach of the one behind, you got a chance to take the knife, throwing it away and out of his reach. You turned and elbowed the knife wielder in the stomach, directing another knee at his ribcage letting him fall flat to the floor.

One more to go.

Standing face to face with your last enemy, you spared mophead a quick look. He was struggling with the commander as he pushed him face down on the big wooden desk. He quickly turned the power around and got him into a deadly chokehold instead.

You didn’t even notice his outerwear was discarded and he was left only in a tank top. His huge biceps flexed dangerously as he tightened his hold on the commander’s neck, pushing into him with all his strength. Sweat was piling like rain drops down his arms and you found yourself drooling. Maybe you digged the whole white mop of hair look.

You were snapped out of your fantasies by the small garden goblin running towards you with a spiked staff. Where the fuck did he get that from?

Do these guys not have one normal weapon on them? Where do they get all this ridiculous stuff from?

You dodged his attacks and his futile attempts at trying to spear you like Dracula, until he got tired and his swings turned sloppy. Finding an opening way too easily, you caught the end of the staff with your right hand and turned your left into an uppercut diving it under his chin. The impact of your hit had him landing in a star shape on the floor. His eyes rolled around unable to focus like birds chirped around his head.

Just as you were finished with him, mophead finally squeezed the living daylights out of the commander and let him fall splat to the floor. He wasn't dead. Just out of service for the day.

Sensing the ruckus in the hall, the rest of the guards from outside started piling up into the hall. You both walked towards each other until you were back to back. In other circumstances you would’ve loved the way your heavy breaths mingled and the way your shoulders shyly grazed each other. But now was not the time to crush on your new partner.

“Any chance you have a plan to get us out of here?” asked mophead. Guards surrounded you from all sides, covering all exit points. The only way to escape was to fight your way out.

“I’m guessing breaking some more necks wouldn’t hurt,” you replied hastily.

“You take the ones on the right. I take the ones on the left,” he directed.

With another nod, you both got into position and waited as the guards descended upon you.

A storm of fists came your way. You tried blocking them as much as you could but five to one was too much to handle without a weapon. Mophead noticed your struggle and tried to get rid of the three baton swingers in front of him. With a low sweep kick to their ankles they all fell over at once, hitting each other with the bats they were holding.

You were holding onto three bats with all your might, pushing your arm muscles to greater strength than they were capable of. Two guards sneaked behind you, ready to deliver a dangerous blow. Enishi intercepted them before they could carry out their plan, catching their arms mid swing and twisting their arms to inhuman angles.

“Don’t you know it’s bad manners to hit a lady, especially from behind?” he said, towering over them, pushing them to their knees as they writhed in pain.

You finally managed to throw the three men backwards, taking to delivering a kick to each of them. By the time you were done with them you were breathing heavily. You were a good fighter, but your stamina was always holding you back. Mophead seemed to be more trained in that field though as you saw him cutting through the lines of guards with ease, taking down two or three at the time. And he was injured.

Five more guards circled both of you.

“Give me a hand,” you said as you ran towards mophead.

He sensed your idea right away. Latching your hand with his, you created enough momentum for him to pull you around in a circle to kick down all of the guards. Once you got both feet back on the ground looking for your next victims, you noticed the secure hand sitting idly on your waist.

Looking up at him, you saw he’s about a head taller than you. He was scanning the room too. Feeling you tense in his hold, he quickly dropped his hand from your waist and trained his gaze on the broken down door.

“We have to go before more of them come.”

“What about your crew? Are you just going to leave them here?”

“They can get out just fine by themselves,” he growled, annoyed and pissed enough to think of those fuckers too.

And with that he grabbed your hand and you made a run for it, stepping over the bodies of the commander's regiment, falling out into the precinct.

Next

Thank you for reading! Comments, notes and reblogs are always welcome :)

[happybird16]

• Chapter Six •

Naga!Levi Ackerman/Fem!Reader

Summary: Growing up, the forests edge always darkened the far corner of your small village. The giant, twisted branches overhead rendered the forest floor a terrifying, pitch black. You shouldn't be here. There's creatures here, dangerous ones.

Overall warnings: Past references to child abuse, blood, scars, gore, mystery, eventual sex, inhuman genitalia (Levi is a snake man), horror vibes.

Chapter warnings: Past references to child abuse, blood, scars, some spicy thoughts.

Chapter Length: 7.9k

Ao3 Link

The most special of shoutouts to my beloved friend and beta @theferricfox!!! Also, credit to @the-milk-anon for the snake banner!!

Note: Hey hey!! Just want all of y'all to know that the future smut (still several chapters out) was all written while listening to true crime podcasts.

Previous chapter | Next Chapter

Awareness filters in as the smell of smoke and cooking meat permeates the air. You attempt to speak, but only a garbled sound comes out. “Guh,” you groan nonsensically, blinking frantically to try to clear your vision. Suddenly, Levi's pale figure comes into focus, anxiously leaning over you. His side brushes against yours as he hovers close.

"Hey," Levi says, calling your name, his fingers gently pressing against your cheek. "How are you feeling?"

You groan, your eyelids fluttering in discomfort. Even the dim flickering light from the fire causes your eyes to sting. Swallowing heavily, your throat feels as dry as sand. Letting out another groan, your voice comes out rough and gravelly, "Feels like I ate some parched bread."

The Naga chuckles softly. "Better, then." As you keep your eyes shut, you can hear him shuffling away momentarily before returning close to you. He cups the back of your neck, gently tilting your head forward, and places a cup against your chapped lips. "Here, drink slowly."

You gulp eagerly, savoring the fresh and soothing water that brings instant relief to your scratchy throat. As your hands rise, your fingers brush against his, taking the cup from his grasp. "Easy... easy," he chides softly, "not too fast."

Pulling away from the cup, you gasp with relief. Blinking blearily, you struggle to clear the spots in your vision. Your voice cracks as you try to speak, "How... how-"

"How is your fever?" Levi interrupts, swiping the pads of his fingers along your brow. It feels wet and clammy, making you acutely aware of how drenched in sweat you are. His forehead dips forward, pressing gently into yours.

“I had a fever?” you croak, blinking lazily. He's so close. The sheer proximity makes your heart lurch and your stomach do an odd somersault. “How long was I out?”

“You were practically boiling,” Levi frowns, leaning back slightly. “I tend to run colder than you, so it’s hard for me to gauge…” His fingers sweep along your brow again, gently pushing back your hair. His warm skin against yours feels comforting. While his demeanor remains stoic and expressionless, there are subtle signs of concern on his face. A faint furrow in his brow and tightly pressed lips. Something intense lingers in his eyes, a look you’ve never seen before, causing your stomach to tighten. “-but I think it’s finally settled. You’ve been in and out for three days.”

"Three days?" you repeat in a weak rasp. The gurgling of your stomach becomes loud and noticeable, causing you to feel embarrassed as you catch Levi's slight smirk.

"Your eyelids were fluttering a lot, so I was hoping you'd wake up soon," he explains. His hand slips behind your shoulder, gently urging you to sit up with a light pressure. "Can you sit up?"

"Nnhgh," you strain, exerting effort to rise up onto your elbow. "I-I think so..."

Surprisingly, it turns out to be relatively easy to pull yourself up, and you find your back against the nearby wall. "M-my leg," you mention, your voice tinged with worry. To your surprise, there isn't much pain. There's a slight stinging sensation in your upper thigh, and your foot feels warm, but aside from that, the limb feels fuzzy and tingling from sleep. You keep your gaze fixed on Levi, hesitating to look directly at it, fearing what you might see.

"It's still healing," Levi reassures you softly, shuffling to the side and retrieving something from over the fire. "I'm sure you're hungry."

He presents a piece of meat skewered on a sharp stick. It's freshly cooked, steaming with a hint of char. "Rabbit?" you recognize, identifying the meat. Suddenly, your eyes catch sight of a patch of fur near the fire, fluffy and bright white. You pause, realizing, "I-is that the rabbit I was trying to catch? How is that even possible?"

"Your trap worked," Levi explains. Pushing the meat closer to you, he insists, "Eat. You need to regain your strength."

"Have you eaten?" you inquire, noticing the subtle click of his jaw. The response is evident in his expression. "You should have some as well."

"I'm fine," he insists. "I've told you before, I don't need to eat as much during winter. My metabolism slows down."

You frown, pushing the meat stick back towards him. "I've heard your stomach growling while you sleep. I know it's been at least a week since you last ate. Please, there's more than enough for both of us."

Crossing his arms, he grumbles something unintelligible under his breath. Another growl from your stomach fills the small cave, causing your face to flush with embarrassment. You maintain a defiant glare, your shoulders squared and unwavering.

Letting out a huff, he reluctantly concedes, firmly pushing the stick back towards you. "Fine, but make sure you eat your fill first."

"Deal," you agree, accepting his offer. The piece of meat is greasy, but its taste is delightful. While some people say that rabbit meat tastes like chicken, to your palate, it has a distinct earthy flavor. Though lacking in spices, the meat is tender yet somewhat plain. Nevertheless, the moment it touches your tongue, a wave of ravenous hunger washes over you.

Levi observes you as you devour the meat, offering you another piece once the first one vanishes. "Have some berries too," he suggests, extending one of your cups toward you. The cup is filled to the brim with a cluster of small, round berries. They are shiny and red, unmistakably cranberries.

You know that he only consumes meat, so you chew quickly before reaching out to take the cup. "Why did you get these?" you inquire.

A soft, almost emotionless expression passes over his face. By the fire, the gray of his eyes takes on a gentle blue hue. "You mentioned that humans enjoy sweet things."

That's sweet, very thoughtful of him. Rattling the berries around in the cup, you smile at his thoughtful gesture.

His thoughtfulness warms your heart, and you find yourself smiling at his gesture, the cup of berries rattling in your hand. But amidst the sweetness of the moment, a realization strikes you with intensity. You like him. The sudden surge of emotions nearly causes you to choke, prompting a moment of panic. In an attempt to divert your thoughts, you hastily stuff a handful of cranberries into your mouth.

The cranberries leave a bitter and tart taste in your mouth, but you choose not to mention it to Levi. You don't want to dampen the kind gesture and the pleased expression on his face. As you slow down, Levi takes a portion of the rabbit for himself, keeping his promise.

"I don't think I've ever felt so satiated before," you remark with a contented sigh, reflecting on the fulfilling meal.

"That's good," Levi responds, his words interspersed with chewing. "The magic you've been using likely drained a significant amount of your energy."

As the mention of magic, you're reminded of the reason behind your stupor. You've been trying to push the thought aside, but now it demands your attention. With a heavy sigh, you lean your head back against the stone wall, mustering the strength to confront the reality.

Taking a deep breath, you finally glance down at your leg. During your sleep, Levi had tucked you into his coat, leaving your legs exposed. The sight that greets you fills you with awe. "Impossible," you whisper softly, running your fingers along your thigh. The grisly wounds that were present only a few days ago now appear as thin, angry lines. Your foot shows significant healing progress as well, with the skin around your ankle only slightly swollen and bruised.

"You're healing so slowly," he frowns, finishing his meal before making his way over to your side once again. With gentle precision, the sharp points of his claws trail across your upper thigh, tracing the outer edge of your wound.

"No, this is incredible," you assure him, your voice trembling at his delicate touch. A surge of butterflies flutters in your stomach. "If it weren't for you, I might have lost my leg. I can't believe it…"

Biting his lip, his sharp fangs loom over his plump bottom lip. "So fragile," he whispers under his breath, his voice barely audible. His fingers dig gently into the softness of your thigh, his gaze filled with darkness and sorrow. "There might be a scar."

"That's nothing new to me," you remind him.

In response, he scowls intensely. His darkened eyes briefly meet yours before swiftly returning to your injured skin. He swallows heavily, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat, and lowers his head in contemplation.

Your voice fills with startled panic as you hastily interject, “H-hey!” He is so close, his long forked tongue carefully swiping along the bottom edge of the shallowest scar near your knee. Unlike before, it doesn’t cause any burning sensation. Instead, it brings a pleasant warmth, and coupled with his dark eyes meeting yours, it stirs a sense of arousal. You like him.

As discreetly as possible, you clench your thighs together. “You don't have to do that,” you exclaim, trying to regain some composure. “It'll heal just fine on its own.”

He responds with a soft voice, his eyes filled with determination. “You don’t need any more scars,” he insists. “Not for my sake. Not if I can help prevent them.“

You utter an uneven response, struggling to hold back a whimper. “O-oh.”

Gently lifting your left leg, Levi continues to softly lap along your thigh, up and up and up towards the inner crease. The sight of him has your heart pounding, dark heavy-lidded eyes boring into yours as his tongue laps softly against your skin. The pink tongue works its way slowly closer and closer to your clothed center. Your thighs clench involuntarily. “Relax,” he tells you softly, thumb working into the muscles there. Huffing warm air against your thigh, his nose flares curiously.

Heat floods your face. You're soaked. If he can smell your blood then he can definitely smell the arousal soaking into the fabric of your panties. His tongue flicks out, tasting the air, while his head tilts to the side in curiosity. Unable to maintain eye contact any longer, you find yourself looking away, desperately seeking a distraction. Your gaze darts towards the entrance of the cave, where you realize something. It's quiet—remarkably so. There is no whipping and howling wind, and the snow is no longer rapidly falling.

"It's quiet," you breathe, stating the obvious, acknowledging the newfound stillness.

"Hmm," Levi blinks slowly with double-lidded eyes, refocusing on his task. There's only a small portion left for him to attend to—the deepest and most sensitive area. Where flesh had once been torn down to the bone, what remains is now just an angry scar. His lips delicately brush against your skin, and he murmurs, "The storm ended almost two days ago."

"Ahh," you hiss, feeling the sting of pain intensify. Your eyes pinch closed as you confess, "That part still burns."

His fingers continue their diligent work, kneading the muscles along the back of your thigh. "I'm sorry. I know. It's almost done," he assures you. As his tongue swirls, the pain gradually fades, replaced by a soothing sensation of warm wetness that engulfs your senses.

"The storm," you begin, finally processing his earlier statement. "The storm is over?"

Leaning away, Levi nods, his nails gently dragging down your thigh as he cups your bruised ankle. "It's been warm enough that the snow has started to melt. That's how I managed to go out and get the rabbit," he explains, his expression turning concerned as he examines the remaining damage to your foot.

"I-I have to go then," you panic, twisting your foot in his grasp, which triggers a surge of red-hot pain. While it was definitely badly broken several days ago, now the bone feels mended, and you're able to wiggle your toes. "Ahh -shit-"

"Shh- shh," Levi hushes softly, releasing your limb. He hovers over you, his gaze filled with warmth. "Don't worry. You can stay, remember? As long as you need to."

"Why are you even helping me?" you spit, your glare fixed upon him. "The last thing I remember is you trying to kill me!"

He grimaces, his expression pained. "I wasn't trying to kill you-"

With a hiss of pain, you struggle to rise, attempting to put weight on your foot, only to be met with excruciating agony. "-Pushing me outside to bleed into the snow counts-"

"Stop," he insists, his hand pressing firmly into your shoulder, gently pushing you back down. "You're only going to hurt yourself more. It was... something you said that changed my mind. You reminded me of myself."

It's as if your own words are echoing back to you, spoken only a few days ago. With a long sigh, you deflate and flop back down onto the bedding. Your lip trembles as uncertainty fills your thoughts. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do..."

Levi's voice soothes you, speaking softly, "You don't need to do anything. Just relax and heal." Shifting his position, he settles next to you, his back against the wall, his shoulder lightly brushing yours.

"I've never been good at that," you grumble under your breath. "I mean, where am I supposed to go? How am I supposed to survive out here all on my own? With my luck, I'll be dead within the week."

"You don't have to-" he begins, but you interrupt him with a somber tone.

"It would be safest for me to go back to the village, but... they threatened to burn me at the stake if I showed up empty-handed," you confess, a hint of fear in your voice.

"Of course they did," Levi responds, his voice filled with disgust. He clicks his tongue in disapproval. "Fucking barbaric."

You nod, your panicked and hurried words pouring out. "The crowd had been so excited when they mentioned it. People cheered!" Tears well up in your eyes, streaming down your face. Choking on your sobs, you fight to continue speaking. "A-and I can't go to another village because he'd find me. It would be best for me to go back, but-but-"

Your attention is momentarily drawn to the nearest portion of Levi's tail, resting by your hip. The nearest portion of his tail is resting by your hip, the one not against his own. The large expanse of his tail spreads out across the entirety of the bedding, its gleaming black scales creating a stunning display of onyx. The very tip of his tail, thin and tapering to a rounded point, brushes against your side.

Carefully, you reach out and brush your fingers against the shiny scales there. Each scale is tiny, barely the size of the tip of your pinky finger.

The tip of Levi's tail flicks by your side, responding to your touch and leaning into it. "Even if I were to give you some of my scales," Levi begins, his voice filled with determination, "I'm not letting you go back there."

Disbelief and hope intertwine within you as you process his words. "You- you would do that? For me?"

Levi shakes his head, waving off the thought. "No," he replies firmly. "Naga scales do horrible things to humans. I won't put you through that. But I won't let you face that danger again either."

"I guess the execution was just delayed," you mutter morosely, a sense of resignation in your voice. You bite down on your lip, fighting back tears. "You said that you're only going to be here until spring. H-how much longer do I have?"

"It's probably still a while until spring. Maybe a handful of weeks. That definitely wasn't the last snowstorm of the season," Levi responds, his tone tinged with uncertainty. He hesitates for a moment, his mouth opening and closing before he continues, "And you don't have to stay here on your own. You could come with me to the Den."

Shock floods your features as you process Levi's offer. "Wha- really?"

Levi shrugs nonchalantly, as if the answer is simple and obvious. "It's an option, if you want."

You can't help but feel incredulous, considering the circumstances. "You barely even know me..." You reflect on the fact that you had spent nearly three days lying to him and scheming, like a crafty thief after his scales. "After everything... you'd trust me like that?"

Levi's fingers trail softly along your thigh, tracing the scratches that remain. His gaze lingers over your shoulder, or perhaps just above it, as he speaks, "I know enough. I trust you."

You huff, feeling a rush of warmth spread across your face. The combination of his gentle gaze and the sensation of his nails trailing across your upper thigh makes your stomach flip with anticipation. Looking away, you divert your eyes to the roof of the cave. "I don't know how much longer I can stay sane living in a cave. Humans need sunlight, and I'm not sure how well I'd cope with The Maw's darkness. I can barely see."

"We don't live in caves," Levi corrects you with a playful eye roll. "I imagine it's similar to how you humans live, with houses and communal buildings."

"Really? But... den implies..." you trail off, still uncertain about the terminology.

"That's just a term that Naga use for home. And communities. You'd probably call it a village," he explains, gesturing towards the far corner of the cave. "It's not too far from here, up the mountainside, nestled within the ridges of The Spine. There's plenty of sunlight up there, so don't worry."

It's kind of amazing how close you'd gotten while wandering blind in the snow.

“I don’t suppose you guys have chairs,” you joke, a light-hearted tone replacing your previous worries. The gratefulness and excitement fill you, making you unsure of how to contain it. Twisting your hands together in your lap, you playfully bump your shoulder into his, relishing in the newfound camaraderie.

Levi's laughter fills the air, a short and endearing chuckle that makes your heart throb with warmth. "We do have chairs. Not many, though. There are a handful of our group who aren't Naga."

Surprised, you look at him with curiosity. "There are?"

Levi nods, his silvery gaze fixed on your expression. There's a glimmer of hope in his eyes as he waits for your response. His usually impassive face makes it hard to discern his true emotions, but you can sense a genuine earnestness. "Is that a yes?" he asks, his voice filled with anticipation. "You'll be safe there."

"Yeah," you breathe, feeling a sense of relief washing over you for the first time in almost a week. "It's a yes."

Hope fills your heart as you contemplate the possibilities ahead. However, there's also a lingering uneasiness, like a sour taste in the back of your throat. Levi doesn't know the whole story, doesn't know what you did. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you gather the courage to continue, "I... I-”

Unaware of the inner turmoil you're facing, Levi carries on, "There's plenty of room in the meadow. I'm sure you can stay with someone while a place is built for you."

Your resolve begins to waver as the weight of your secret bears down on you. Fear of judgment and the potential change in Levi's perception of you looms over your decision. The thought of being separated from him, even for a short time, fills your heart with an ache. Gathering your courage, you speak in a quiet and timid voice, "Can I stay with you?"

In surprise, Levi's eyes widen and his fingers tighten their grip on your thigh. Flicking out his tongue to moisten his lips, he swallows deeply, his throat bobbing visibly before he replies, "Sure. As long as you can clean up after yourself." You find comfort in the gentle pat of his hand on your thigh, his thumb working diligent circles into the flesh.

Suddenly, a wave of self-consciousness washes over you as you remember the heightened senses of a Naga. You realize that you must still be a clammy, sweaty mess from your injury and subsequent fever. Your hair is likely unkempt and you recall his blood-soaked hands cradling the back of your head. Filled with embarrassment, you quickly apologize, "I'm sorry. I must smell pretty bad. I remember you mentioning my sweat before."

Levi reassures you, "No, it's not your sweat. I've grown accustomed to your scent. It's the smell of your blood. It feels like I can't taste anything else." As if to emphasize his words, his tongue flicks out briefly.

Upon hearing his explanation, you become acutely aware of the extent of your disheveled state. Large patches of dried blood mar your skin from your thigh down to your foot, creating a flaky and unpleasant sight. Your attention is drawn to the corner of the cave where you notice several blood-soaked furs and the remnants of your clothes. That pile of furs must've been the ones that were beneath you while he was attending to your injury.

Levi picks up on your gaze and suggests, "I began repairing your trousers, but they might be beyond salvaging. Since it's warmer now, would you be willing to accompany me to the nearby stream? We can clean up there and freshen up a bit."

As you continue to observe Levi, you realize that he too is covered in your blood. The crimson stains his far side, where you had been leaning against him during the journey back. His pale skin and dark scales on that side are now adorned with the remnants of your dried blood.

Suddenly aware of how sticky and grimy you are, the desire to wash up grows stronger within you. "I can't get up- how will I-"

Levi's voice is reassuring as he responds, "I'll carry you there." He rises from his spot, his tail extending and gently curling around you as he makes his way to the far end of the cave. "Do you mind if we pack all the bloody things into your bag?"

You nod, feeling apologetic. "I'm sorry I ruined your furs."

“You still apologize too much,” he shoots you a look over his shoulder. “Relax, this won’t be the first time I’ve gotten blood out of them.”

Shuffling over to the back wall of the cave, Levi lifts up the bedding in what you deemed “his spot.” From a crevice below, he swipes up a small blue bag, before pausing. “Oh,” he turns, holding something out to you. “This is yours.”

Curiosity piqued, you scoot over to take a closer look. A shiny metal pommel meets your gaze. “My knife.” So that’s where he hid it. His words from before flutter along the back of your mind, ‘So you can stab that shiny little knife of yours into my back later?’ The cool metal filling your palm is material evidence of just how much he trusts you. It warms your heart. You place it by your side.

Quick and meticulous, Levi gathers up all the bloody furs, carefully placing them in your backpack along with the small blue bag. He then turns to you and asks, “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah.” With a nod, you signal your readiness, preparing yourself for the journey to the nearby stream. Levi approaches your side, his eyes momentarily scanning your legs as if calculating the best way to lift you. You feel a mix of anticipation and vulnerability as he reaches out to lift you, his arms wrapping around you with care and strength.

One arm cradles your legs while the other supports your back, creating a secure and comfortable hold. As he lifts you effortlessly, you find yourself pressed against his chest, your head nestled near his heart. It's like how a groom would carry his bride. The steady and comforting rhythm of his heartbeat resonates in your ears, soothing your nerves and providing a sense of safety.

You marvel at how effortlessly he carries you, as if your weight is insignificant to him. It’s a testament to his physical prowess and the trust he has in his own abilities. Feeling his warm embrace, you relax into his hold, finding solace and a sense of belonging in his strength.

Tucking through the entrance of the cave, bright morning light immediately greets you. It's nearly blinding after the caves barely-lit darkness. As Levi carries you towards the stream, you feel a mix of sensations: the brightness of the morning light, the cold breeze caressing your skin, and the gentle sway of his movements. The contrast between the dark cave and the small meadow immediately outside is striking, and you find yourself adjusting to the new environment.

Taking a moment to soak in the surroundings, you breathe in the crisp air, feeling a renewed sense of freedom. The remaining snow is a testament to the passing winter, and you watch as Levi’s tail creates a deep trail behind him. It’s a mesmerizing sight, the dark scales against the pure white backdrop. The way he moves is so smooth, a fluid back-and-forth led by the gentle sway of his hips.

Passing through the small opening, the darkness of the trees looms overhead once again. From over his shoulder you watch his tail trail a wide path into the pure white snow. As the trees begin to loom in a dense canopy overhead, it becomes so dark that you can barely see the end of it. Shadows dance ominously in the distance, causing worry to fill your throat. “W-what about any WildOnes? What if we run into something?”

He pauses for a moment, his grip on you tightening as if to provide reassurance. His voice rumbles against your ear, comforting and steady. “Most of the forest’s inhabitants are nocturnal,” he explains. “And this time of year, many of the more dangerous creatures should still be in hibernation.”

“But… the shifter…” you worry, your voice trembling with unease.

Levi’s response carries a hint of frustration and resignation. “One of the few exceptions. It figures you would stumble right the fuck into one,” he remarks, his fingers exerting more pressure on your back as they glide slowly up to your shoulder. There’s a mix of concern and exasperation in his touch. “You did mention being unlucky, didn’t you?”

His words send a chill down your spine, amplifying your anxiety about the shifter encounter. The memory of that dangerous encounter lingers in your mind, fueling your fear of the unknown lurking in the darkness. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

“Right.” If only you knew what that really meant. You should tell him. You should . But you don't want this to end. You don't want to leave him and you don't want to die. Feeling torn and conflicted, you bury your face into Levi’s chest, seeking solace in his embrace. His reassuring touch and comforting words provide a temporary respite from your inner turmoil. The weight of your secret weighs heavily on your conscience, but the fear of losing him or putting yourself in danger holds you back from revealing the truth.

As Levi senses your worry, he responds with a gentle pat on your back, his touch offering both comfort and a reminder of his heightened senses. “I’ll smell anything dangerous before it gets too close,” he reassures you, his voice steady and calm. Levi’s touch tightens, his grip both reassuring and possessive. “I won’t let anything harm you,” he asserts, determination lacing his words.

His words provide a glimmer of reassurance, reminding you that you’re not alone in this journey. You find a small measure of comfort in his presence and his unwavering determination to protect you. For now, you choose to hold onto that reassurance, hoping that his heightened senses will indeed keep you out of harm’s way.

Taking a deep breath, you try to push aside your concerns and focus on the present moment. The snow crunches undertail as Levi carries you through the dark forest, his steady pace and the rhythmic swaying of his movements lulling you into a sense of security. You lean into his warmth, allowing yourself to trust in his abilities.

The journey to the creek turns out to be relatively short, accompanied by the soothing sound of rushing water growing louder as you approach. As the darkness of the forest gives way, you’re greeted by the breathtaking sight of bright, sunny skies. The creek sparkles with clear blue water, reflecting the sunlight as it cascades down from the mountain’s slope. The contrast between the foreboding forest and the serene beauty of the creek leaves you in awe.

Levi finds a comfortable spot for you to sit on a large, sun-warmed boulder by the creek’s edge. The warmth seeps through the fabric of your clothing, providing a pleasant sensation against your skin. He settles beside you, retrieving the small bag he had grabbed earlier. With a razor in hand, he informs you of his intention, “I’m going to trim my hair first.”

You watch as Levi carefully tends to his hair, his movements focused and precise. The sunlight catches the strands, emphasizing their dark hue. It’s a strangely intimate moment, watching him groom himself with such care. As he works, you take the opportunity to observe your surroundings. The gentle rush of the water, the warmth of the sun on your skin, and the peaceful atmosphere of the creek all contribute to a sense of tranquility.

With each sweep of the razor, you notice Levi’s hair gradually taking on a neater and more refined appearance. It’s a simple act, but there’s a certain intimacy in the shared silence between you. The worries and uncertainties of the outside world momentarily fade away, replaced by the calming presence of the creek and the bond you’re forming with Levi.

As you watch Levi trim his hair, a wave of admiration washes over you, and you find yourself captivated by his appearance. The realization hits you like a bolt of lightning—Levi is undeniably handsome. For so long, your attention had been drawn to his unique, otherworldly features, but now your gaze eagerly travels along his human half.

In the soft morning light, his pale skin seems to glow, accentuating the taut muscles that ripple beneath the surface. His broad shoulders and chiseled abdomen speak of strength and power, perfectly complemented by the tightly packed muscles that define his physique. Every subtle movement reveals the sculpted contours of his body, as if each motion were carefully choreographed to captivate your attention.

Your eyes are drawn to his arm as it shifts with precision, creating sharp lines in his undercut. The sight of his bicep, bulging and defined, elicits an involuntary response, causing your mouth to water. The flex of his pectoral muscles leaves you yearning to reach out and touch him, your fingers itching with desire. Your thighs clench.

As you continue to drink in Levi's presence, your gaze roams over every curve and contour of his body, tracing the arch of his spine, the curve of his waist, and the broad expanse of his hips. Each line and shape seems to emphasize his masculine allure, captivating your attention.

Lost in your observations, you suddenly notice a shift in Levi's demeanor. His head rises, and his gaze locks with yours, an odd look crossing his face. His nostrils flare, indicating that his heightened sense of smell has detected something.

“Uh-” Your heart lurches in panic as you realize your obviousness. You like him. Oh no. Desperately trying to switch gears, you stare worriedly at the water rushing by your side. “It's there anything dangerous in the water?”

Levi sniffs and points up the creek towards the towering peaks of The Spine. “No,” he assures you. “This is actually directly downstream from the Den. A deeper portion of this river runs straight through the middle. We fish there all the time. This one is perfectly safe.”

This one?

The urge to keep watching Levi is strong, but you resist, shifting your attention to the black hairs floating downstream. Extending your good leg, you cautiously dip your toes into the water. "It's freezing!"

"Way to state the obvious," Levi chuckles, finishing up with his hair. The tip of his tail flicks into the stream. "We shouldn't actually go in, it's still too dangerous." His tail ripples like the water beside you as he moves closer. "Come on, lift your arms up."

His fingers pinch the bottom edge of your top, pulling it up to expose your hip. "H-hey, woah!" you protest, quickly pushing his arms away.

Levi appears shocked, his eyebrows twisted in confusion. "What?" he asks, clearly taken aback by your reaction.

"I'm not exactly comfortable being... naked," you tell him, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. You hastily tug the hem of your top back down your thigh. The oversized fur coat may have covered him decently, but it barely provides enough coverage for you, reaching only mid-thigh. You're grateful for its closed front, even though the v-neck is a bit low. Shuffling uncomfortably, you confess, "Especially around others."

Levi raises an eyebrow and points out matter-of-factly, "I'm naked." He gestures to himself, emphasizing the point with the sharp tip of his nail against his bare chest.

The thought hadn't even occurred to you. While his upper half is bare and undeniably enticing, his lower half consists of smooth scales. "I-it's different!" you stammer, feeling flustered.

Levi grumbles in response, "I've seen you topless before. Why does it matter?"

You struggle to recall the circumstances through the haze of blood loss. It feels like a distant memory, shrouded in panic and darkness. "I was kind of out of it then," you admit, your voice laced with uncertainty.

Levi hums curiously, tilting his head to the side. His gaze traces up your legs and along your torso before meeting your eyes. "Naga don't reveal themselves without their finery unless it's intimate," he explains.

Confusion clouds your expression as you blink in question. "Finery? Why are you telling me this?" you ask, genuinely curious.

Levi's eyes soften as he continues, "Our jewelry. You mentioned them before, in your children's stories. Naga with breasts often cover their upper halves with necklaces or other metal pieces, but nearly everyone wears something in public. So, I'm naked. Is it something similar to that?"

So this whole time you've been intruding into his space in multiple ways. An apology sits on the tip of your tongue, but before you can utter a word, Levi waves you off dismissively. "It's fine, it's not something that was ever really impressed upon me as a child," he says, indicating that it's not a big concern for him.

You apologize too much. You rub your arm worriedly, shoulders bowing inward. “I-it's not that exactly..���

“I won't look,” he tells you softly, trying to reassure you. “I'll just clean your legs, if you're willing to do that part.” Pulling you forward with a hand at the small of your back, he positions your legs to dangle over the ledge. His hand dips into the water, causing an unhappy hiss to escape his lips.

The blue little bag turns out to also contain a small, chunky, yellow bar of soap. Levi dips it into the frigid water before sliding it against your skin, gently cleansing your leg. You jolt away from the chill, and he tsks at you softly. “You have soap?”

He shrugs modestly, his hands moving with a deliberate and gentle touch. The intimate act of him washing you fills your heart with a heavy buzz. “It's just made from animal fat, along with a handful of other ingredients. It's not too difficult to make. I'm sure you've gathered how much I value cleanliness.”

Levi's touch on your leg is gentle and soothing, as he swipes the soap along your skin with smooth and sweeping motions. The soap creates soft bubbles, gliding effortlessly over your leg, and you notice a hint of pine in its woodsy scent. The dried blood flakes away easily with every splash of water.

"Oh, I sure have," you chuckle softly, appreciating the focused and tender expression on Levi's face. His eyes remain fixed on your leg, his touch unwaveringly gentle even on your raw wounds. "I've always wanted to learn how to do crafty stuff like that."

"I could teach you," Levi says softly.

"I'd like that," you breathe, a sense of ease washing over you. With a relaxed smile, you remove your top, briefly catching Levi's gaze before he resumes his work. Surprisingly, you don't feel exposed or self-conscious in his presence. There is a comforting familiarity and trust between you. As you splash water onto your side, dark, flaky remnants of dried blood easily wash away.

"I think there's some blood in my hair too," you mention. Tracing your fingers along the back of your head, you discover small clumps of dried blood. It's spotty, but you vaguely remember something hot and sticky pressing into your scalp.

"I'll take care of that later," Levi replies distractedly. He frowns, his attention focused on the task of cleaning your wound. As he works the suds around the puckered edge, his touch becomes even gentler, his fingers tracing along the delicate edges. His frown deepens, and his thumb pauses momentarily as it glides along the deepest claw-mark on your upper thigh.

His mouth opens and closes several times, a question clearly struggling to form. Finally, he manages to speak, his voice filled with a mixture of curiosity and concern. "The top... is it because of your scars? I've already seen them." His gaze shifts to meet yours, searching for an answer.

You shrug, raising an arm to scratch back between your shoulder blades. There's a little scar there, a thin line that you can barely reach. Shoulders hunching inward, you don't meet his gaze as you continue, “My parents weren't exactly… nice.”

Levi’s expression softens, understanding dawning in his eyes. He continues to clean your wound, his touch now gentle and comforting. “That's a huge fucking understatement.” The grip on your thigh tightens. You wince as his grip tightens, but his quick apology and soothing touch on your thigh ease the discomfort. “Why would they carve up your back?”

“I acted out… a lot,” you explain, your voice tinged with a mix of sadness and frustration. “I was a bit of a wild spirit, always wanting to be out exploring and learning, instead of conforming to their expectations. They punished me, both physically and emotionally. They called me a disappointment, a failure.” The memories of the older scars are hazy, blurred by the passage of time and the weight of trauma. But they had started long before your brother came into the picture, and things had only worsened with his arrival. Taking a deep breath, you finally meet Levi’s gaze, his concern evident in his eyes. “They had their reasons,” you reply, your voice tinged with bitterness. “They believed it would make me more obedient, more controllable.

Levi’s anger seethes beneath the surface, his voice laced with frustration as he responds, “What absolute pieces of shit.” He releases a growl, a mix of empathy and indignation. “You didn't deserve any of that. Didn't anyone notice?”

You nod sadly, lost in thought, as you recall the harsh reality of your past. The memories weigh heavily on your heart as you speak, "It was a cruel norm in our society. Those who dared to be adventurous, particularly girls, faced punishment. Sometimes it was even done publicly in the town square."

Levi's expression tightens with anger and frustration. His low growl betrays his indignation, and you sense his empathy and understanding. "And yet they have the audacity to call us monsters," he mutters, his voice filled with disdain for such hypocrisy.

The word "monster" reverberates in your mind, triggering painful memories of the crowd's jeering and the taunts that plagued your past. Your frown deepens, and you instinctively draw in a sharp breath, feeling the weight of those hurtful words once more.

“You have some too,” you note, carefully brushing his shoulder. He's so pale that they're difficult to spot. Most of them look like little knicks, spread out sparsely across his skin like silvery stars. They're smooth under your touch. “How is that possible? I thought Naga healed almost instantly.”

As you glide your thumb slowly along the edge of one, he suddenly jerks and shoulders your hand away. “That's none of your business,” he spits with a cool glare. The words are short and sharp, piercing the chilly air like knives. His shoulders are stiff and his eyes quickly shoot away from you to the water. Uncomfortable. The only way you can describe the way he looks is uncomfortable. It's clear as day that he doesn't want to talk about it.

You retract your hand immediately, sensing his discomfort. His sharp reaction catches you off guard, and you quickly apologize, realizing you've touched upon a sensitive topic. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry. It's none of my business."

Levi's tense posture and avoidance of eye contact confirm your assumption. He seems guarded, unwilling to discuss the origin of his scars. You decide to respect his boundaries and change the subject, not wanting to cause any further discomfort.

“Can I clean your side?” you gesture towards where his waist is still caked with your blood. “Make things a bit more even?” He shrugs with a deep frown, handing you the soap.

As you gently clean Levi's side, you notice his distant expression and the faraway look in his eyes. It's clear that his mind is elsewhere, lost in his thoughts and memories. You wonder what might be occupying his thoughts, what hidden emotions he's grappling with.

Without prying or pushing, you continue to clean his side in silence, giving him the space he seems to need. Your focus remains on the task at hand, but your curiosity lingers, wondering what thoughts and emotions lie behind his distant gaze.

There's so much he doesn't know about you, but there's also so much you don't know about him. He's stiff against your hands, back ramrod straight. You try to be just as gentle as he was with you, slowly lathering the soap along his side. As you continue to clean Levi's side, your fingers tracing the scars on his abs, you notice his initial stiffness gradually giving way to a more relaxed posture. It seems that your gentle touch is helping him find some comfort in the moment.

Leaning back slightly, you pose a question, hoping to distract him from whatever thoughts were troubling him earlier. "What do you do during the warmer months?" you ask, your voice soft and curious. You observe his face closely, waiting for his response.

He jumps slightly, startled by your sudden words. Blinking in surprise, he tells you, “Some of my den sweeps the forest for WildOnes, killing any we come across.”

Levi’s admission catches you off guard, and you momentarily stop working the soap into his scales as you process his words. Confusion lingers in your expression as you question his motive. “But you hate humans. Why would you protect us?”

Levi’s gaze shifts away, his features contorting with a mixture of frustration and resignation. “It’s complicated,” he mumbles, his voice tinged with bitterness. “That’s mostly just me. I wouldn’t have invited you to stay if that wasn’t the case. And it keeps us safe as well,” he says. “But Eyebrows - er - our leader thinks it’s best if we protect the nearby human towns. By his logic, the fewer deaths you have, the less likely you’re going to wander into the forest and find us.”

“That doesn’t really make complete sense,” you start, your hand continuing its gentle motion. The little bits of your blood seem to cling to the grooves between his scales, requiring more effort to clean. But soon enough, his side begins to glitter softly in the sunlight. “Wouldn’t it be better if we were fearful of the forest?”

Levi’s gaze flickers to yours, a touch of contemplation in his eyes. “Perhaps,” he concedes, his tone thoughtful. “But fear can be a double-edged sword. A healthy amount is fine, but too many deaths would lead to anger. Humans tend to lash out and destroy.” Even still, his gaze remains fixated on the waves. As you pull the top back on, his eyes immediately meet yours. “Plus, Erwin has wanted to reach out for peace several times over the years.”

Erwin. You immediately file the name away for safekeeping. “That sounds like it was a point of contention.” Levi grunts, telling you that ‘yes, yes it was.’ with a simple noise. “But then what about my village? Dozens of people go missing a year!”

Levi's fingers drums curiously along your thigh, the tips of his claws barely grazing your skin. There's an odd look on his face, one that brings you pause. Something terrifying buzzes along the back of your head.

You gasp. The realization hits you like a lightning strike. The words come out in a horrified whisper, “It's the town heads. They're getting rid of people.” You can tell just from the dark look on his face that Levi had come to the realization as well. It makes too much sense.

The weight of the revelation hangs heavy in the air, a suffocating silence enveloping you both. The pieces of the puzzle begin to fit together, forming a grim picture that you can no longer ignore. The town heads, the disappearances, the atmosphere of fear—it all aligns with the sinister truth that has been lurking in the shadows.

Levi’s gaze meets yours, and a shared understanding passes between you. There’s a mixture of anger, sorrow, and determination etched on his face. He nods, “We've spotted a handful of humans over the years, wandering into the woods. It's mostly the others that go close to the human villages, but the ones they find always scream and run off before they can approach.. and then it's too late.”

Not all of the sentences are public, it seems. The people who just disappear or end up just a gory mess, at least some of them must be victims of theirs. Killed and blamed on the creatures living in The Maw or sent off to their deaths with a hopeless quest.

You remember the teen who had braided your hair, filling your mind with myths and legends. Andrea. You remember now, her name was Andrea. The realization dawns upon you that she may have suffered a similar fate, cast off into the unforgiving forest to meet her demise. Curiosity feeds death.

Anger rises within you, mingling with the sorrow and determination etched on your face. You vow to uncover the truth, to seek justice for the innocent lives lost and protect those who still remain. The cycle of fear and deception must be broken. With renewed purpose and a burning determination, you prepare to face the challenges ahead.

[oddygaul]

Dungeon Meshi

Is this the show that gets me back into watching modern anime? Maybe… just maybe.

Dungeon Meshi is a unique anime in a lot of ways. It’s remarkably grounded, from its characters’ realistically limited combat abilities to their need to eat and sleep. Despite being set in a dungeon filled with monsters and adventurers, the show is more slice-of-life than action. Similarly, despite some thrilling moments here and there, the show’s most delicate animation is typically reserved for its frequent scenes of food prep and cooking. And despite using a fairly generic fantasy framework as the basis of its setting, Dungeon Meshi delights in explaining the logic underlying the dungeon’s ecosystem and the creatures within, leading to a sense of verisimilitude not often seen in anime.

It surprises me how well Dungeon Meshi’s worldbuilding works. I’m usually a big fan of show-don’t-tell worldbuilding, which animation is well-suited for: detail can be crammed into backgrounds, subtly shown in the way a creature moves, or hinted at through unvoiced character reactions. In fact, an anime deciding to monologue all its lore at the viewer is usually a death knell for me: if your first episode starts off with a five minute history lesson about the setting rather than figuring out some clever way to bake it into a story, I’m usually out.

And yet, Dungeon Meshi’s characters are out here explaining, at length, obscure facts about monsters and cooking and I’m enraptured. I think it gets away with it both because its characters are so charming – who wouldn’t want to listen to Laios’ autistic ass tell them everything about weird sheeps that grow in plants? – and because the worldbuilding itself is so creative. From the mollusc-like living armor to Senshi’s use of golems as mobile crop fields, even the most tired fantasy standbys are given a fascinating, original twist.

Dungeon Meshi is also just very pleasant and cozy to watch. It’s not that the story has no stakes – some surprisingly heavy shit happens periodically* – but rather that the characters are so well-adjusted to their situation as to make a life-or-death activity like dungeon delving a casual affair. Plus, the show’s premise necessitates that everything must hard pivot into a cooking show at least once every fifteen minutes, which keeps things chill. It also helps that the characters are all very endearing, helped along by a great English dub. It’s one of the most naturalistic dubs I’ve heard in a while: everyone speaks like a real human instead of in Anime Voice**, with lots of colloquialisms. Special shoutout to Marcille’s VA for all her “HELL no!”s and gems like “Falin! …whoa hey…”.

*Given how matter-of-fact the show is about cooking and eating the monsters, it really shouldn’t be surprising, but look, I just wasn’t expecting forbidden blood magic rituals, okay? **With the exception of Falin, whose voice in Japanese is honestly just as grating

Aesthetically, Dungeon Meshi is a damn fine-looking show, too. As always, any writeup I could do regarding The Craft pales in comparison to kViN’s incredible articles at Sakuga Blog, so go read those. It really shows that this show had a healthy, well-planned production, as Dungeon Meshi is exceptionally consistent, and deploys its most explosively animated bits right where they need to be. Trigger is a great fit for Dungeon Meshi’s tone, as well; the character animation is lovely, filled with huge expressions, great cartoon-ass reactions, and plenty of physical comedy.

My only real complaint here is that the environment art is all bland as hell. For a story that’s all about traversing a dungeon and experiencing its incredible circle of life, it’s disappointing how uninspired the rendering of the dungeon itself is: most of the background art could’ve come straight out of any other generic seasonal fantasy anime, with uninteresting local color palettes, ho-hum designs and sterile digital rendering. Honestly, I still consider Yuji Kaneko’s departure from Trigger one of the hardest blows they’ve received as a studio; the stark difference between the art direction in the Little Witch Academia OVA compared to the TV series always comes to mind for me. Dungeon Meshi’s directing and character animation is still top-notch, and I think it’ll be a modern classic regardless, but I can’t stop imagining a world where Kaneko was still around at Trigger to work on it, and it was top to bottom gorgeous and colorful, with era-defining background art that would inspire decades of fantasy anime to come.

What a relief, after my aborted watch of Summertime Rendering, to find the only panty shots we get in Dungeon Meshi are of an uncommonly handsome dwarf

[silverstream2]

NSFW headcanons for Baul DMC, because fuck it, why not:

-Doesn't really give a shit about the sex or gender of his partner, or really what they look like. Like, the guy's a demon. His standards for "weird" are way different from what a human would consider "weird". If he likes you, he likes you. As long as you respect him and his boundaries, then that's all that matters.

-Speaking of "weird": I guess he counts as what normal humans would consider a monsterfucker. But like, he's a demon, largely raised in the Underworld, so like. I feel like him being okay with fucking humans would be the "weird" thing here, not other demons/devils.

-By the looks of him, you'd assume he'd only likes it rough and only if he's the one controlling everything/being the dom, and he DOES like those things... just not all the time.

He can be surprisingly gentle with his lovers, when he wants to be, and especially if that's the kind of sex you want from him. He knows his own strength and is very aware of how squishy humans are, even half-humans, and he doesn't like hurting his partners (unless its consensual/they ask him to hurt them, and even then, he'll only do what's safe for them). He likes slow, gentle sex, sometimes. He likes being able to hold you to him, to feel you against him as you both move. Likes to hold your hand and kiss you during sex. It's nice. On occasion. It's more a matter of finding someone he can be that honest and vulnerable with, that's the rare thing.

-Has zero problem just focusing on his partner's pleasure, if that's how they prefer it, or laying back and letting them pleasure him. He does prefer to pay his lovers back for the latter, tho, if they're the ones doing all the work/focusing on pleasing him. He likes to make sure whoever he's with is satisfied, too.

-Good at aftercare, tho sometimes he has a hard time knowing and/or asking for what he needs from his partner(s) afterwards. Please be patient with him. He tries.

-He likes making sure you feel safe 💙

-On that note: Honor kink go brrr. Praise kink, too. He probably won't ask for praise, and will try to play it off as cooly as possible if you do praise him, but he loves it. Please tell him he did good.

-Loves it when his partner runs their fingers through his hair. Hair pulling is hot, too, but if you want to go with something more soothing, just pet his hair. He loves that shit.

-Bondage is fine, so long as its safe.

-Biting is fine, either giving or receiving. So is blood play, tho only if he's the one doing it rather than receiving. Unless his partner is a demon or half-demon, anyway. Demon blood tends to have some... adverse effects on humans, so he prefers not to risk it.

-Has a sort of... scent kink? It's mostly because he's a demon. He likes to smell you, taste you. He likes it when you smell like him, too, especially if you wear his clothes.

-For more rough stuff: Loves it when he can fuck his partner(s) so good the pleasure makes them scream or, even better, renders them speechless.

-Please ride him, please, as hard as you want. He loves that. Loves the view, too. Absolutely praises you while you do.

[risu5waffles]

CW: self-harm, injury (post stitches photo, no gore)

So, we talked a bit on stream last night, and i don't know how much sense anything made beyond the concrete details. It's hard to put into words really, where my head is. Even when things are happening, like, i know they're real, and the result of decisions i am making, have made, but they don't feel really real? i've thought a lot and a long time about cutting myself, and i never really thought it was a particularly good idea. i didn't see it in any way constructive or helpful. i wasn't even really sure it was filling a bad need. And yet, i'd find myself, now and then, digging in wiv a box cutter, like, "ope, i guess this is what we're doing now, then." And even then, even now, my brainmeats are like, "what's this chickenshit now? How come you can't even lean into this ? We've known gals what look like they've been rolling round in bobwire." It's true. i've known more than a few gals who've gone and really fucked themselves up, and thinking of them, and looking at my arms, and even now i think to myself, "oh, we could go way harder than this."

So, yesterday i did. Not that that was the intent. To the extent there was an intent. i'd been putting it off wiv tasks since the night before, 'cause that works sometimes. "Can't do this now, we've got laundry to do, don't want blood on clean clothes. Well, now we're home, but how about a run of Isaac first. Oh, well, now we're too tired to get up to dickens. Oh, it's morning, but let's record a few archive episodes first. Well, those'll have to get edited now." Sometimes it's just loading one more thing and one more thing, keeping yourself busy long enough that the feeling passes. And usually you're lucky. And then sometimes there's a gap.

i didn't even really feel it. That's bothered me in a lot of different ways since this started. Like, it ought to hurt. That i've so divorced myself from myself it didn't feel much worse than a scratch. i knew i'd really fucked up this time when the wound spread open and i could see i'd cut down into the fat. It bled surprisingly little. And even then looking at it, and knowing this was a really bad scene, there was a part of me that was like, "this ? This ain't nothing. run it under a tap a bit, slap on a bandage, and get on wiv your day." Even now i half-think that, even though i know it's pure-d bullshite. Was worrying about infection that got me to go the ER. It'd be one thing to hurt myself and wind up wiv an ugly scar. It'd be quite another to get sepsis and die. i'm not well, but i'm not suicidal. Well, not actively suicidal. i've been thinking of suicide on the daily since i was a kid. But i still don't particularly want to die? It's a hard distinction to explain, and generally i just don't try to, and live wiv the results.

(i have some other, worse pictures, so i have something to throw at the brainmeats and say "yes, actually, this was bad." those pictures will not be shared. ever)

Can we talk for a moment about affordable healthcare? Now it's pure bullshite they tagged me an extra 7700yen for not having a referral (to the ER?! Like, what?!), but that means the cleaning and six stitches i got ran me 2000yen. The looking at i had this morning (they wanted to be sure my arm wasn't going to fall off. Spoilers: it is not going to fall off)? 220yen. i don't even want to think what that would've cost in the US. Would probably have to cut my arm off to pay for it. Now, i'm of the mind healthcare shouldn't cost anything at all, and the Japanese system is far from perfect, but... like... i was able to afford it.

The last time i did this, which did not require stitches, couple of weeks back? It was in one of those gaps where i couldn't do anything but wait for the episode i was working on to render, so i could start up the next. So, i look up from it, from my arm, looking for something to clean away the blood and see how bad it was this time, and there's the episode bumper up on the telly. "For fierce trans joy" all in big letters. And i felt such a sense of shame. Just deep, weary shame, like i was caught in a betrayal of community. A betrayal of concept. "Is this, am i, what 'fierce trans joy' looks like?" i felt such disgust and self-loathing. And still it did not stop yesterday from happening.

So where am i? Where are we? i have responsibilities to my community, if to nothing and no one else. i do take what i do, as little as it may be, seriously. That's why i decided to talk about it last night, and why i'm setting things down here, now. i'd rather have folx know, and be able to decide how or if they want to be wiv me, than not know and be hurt and surprised later? If i can't do right by the people who've done right by me, what kind of shitheel am i?

i'd like to say yesterday (or worse) won't happen again, but i didn't think yesterday was going to happen until it was happening. i can say, at this exact moment, i don't want to cut myself, but i'm not entirely sure that's a meaningful statement? All things considered? i'm trying to set up a trip to see my folx this summer that is really also a trip to see if i can finagle my way onto HRT somehow. i don't think progressing wiv the meatside of my transition is going to magically cure how deeply fucked my processing has gotten, but i know the past four years (four years already? Fuck me sideways) not making any real progress at all has not helped in the slightest. Figuring my shite out on the eve of a global pandemic was, as the kids say, a spot of poor timing. Besides, to the little extent i actually feel want, i want this. That has meaning all on its own.

So, yeah. That's the that. Things internally suck. i had a pretty bad scare. My brainmeats are still trying to downplay everything. But, like, i don't want to die. And today was a nice day. i put on my best dress, and went out to Kichijoji, and bought some stickers. i'm making curry, because even if i don't ever feel particularly hungry, i know i have to eat, and my curry is pretty good. Tomorrow's another day off (was s'pposed to work today, but, like, hospital), and hopefully it'll be nice, and i'll get a few things done and go down to Harajuku and look at all the pretty clothes that not even cis girls fit in (seriously, the first time i went, i thought the shops were stocking for actual children).

Love all y'all. You take care now, stay safe, and have a wonderful day.

(i didn't bring the parking sign, it just hasn't been in any pictures recently)

(old hands, can you pick out the new stickers? if you can tell me, you get a cookie. also my undying love. but you'd have gotten that anyway)

[stay-midnight]

hi hehe-fic talk time!

. . . (a fellow filo yes yes but i live in a different timezone hehe)

snowswept tails how i love you so 🤧 yes yes, jeongin breeding the reader for the last time in a while 😭 he'd be so rough as usual, but his words wouldn't match his movements-he'd be all sweet, praising the reader, apologizing for his past behavior and actions, and promising to stay with the reader forever (this is where they'd share their first 'i love you' to eachother imo hehe, and jeongin would ask reader to mark him the same way he does to reader) he'd have to use fox magic to soundproof the cave they're staying at unless they want soldiers walking in on reader getting bred 👀

after all that railing- reader would wake up sore as usual-though they'd find themselves clean and surprisingly not as sore as they usually would, right next to them is jeongin peacefully sleeping. (what happened is that after reader passed out from the fucking-jeongin used the last of his strength to use fox magic to clean and heal the reader's body, he didn't want them to be left defenseless and sore incase something happened, passing out soon after.)

reader would have to be strong and independent for a while 💅 the food supplies from the bag they brought would eventually run out so reader would have to go out and hunt-(jeongin placed protective charms around the cave and around a bit of it's area-but it renders ineffective if an outsider is aware of it)

while on the way back to the cave after hunting, reader accidentally runs into a soldier, reader would try to run but the soldier is too fast and eventually a fight between reader and soldiers ensues-reader would be forced to kill them with their axe-grimacing at the blood that splattered on them-reader moves fast and is forced to bring back both the dead animal they hunted and the dead soldier's body so he can cover up the tracks😭😭😭 (reader would make a small little hole near the cave and bury the soldier there, feeling guilty they had to kill....) after all that, reader would just cling to jeongin after eating, sighing as they mumble a small, "i love you..." as a small tear falls down, before sleeping 😔 (the story would probs go in a few ways after jeongin wakes up-its either him and reader stopping the war and going on to peacefully live their lives at the cabin or the just travel and run everywhere?)

AHH THAT'S HOT- i'd imagine this is the first time chan, reader and hyunjin would be sexual with one another 🤯 both subs would absolutely gawk at the sight of android hyunjins huge cock- (its at max size mode cause hyunjin would believe it'd be most effective at giving both the nutrients 😭) both would be gagging so much and the subs would be so hard in their pants as their mouths get violated-(cue gagging on hyunjin's cum as they try their best to swallow-)

that's such a good idea too-hyunjin developing his personality through sex- "why do you two enjoy getting spanked with my electric hands?" "why do you two always set my cock to the biggest mode?" "why do you two want me to call you names like slut?" "you are aware of my features that also allow me to bottom, yet you prefer me manhandling you?" and both reader and chan are just so embarrassed by the questions cause its making them question themselves 😭 (eventually i think hyunjin would develop into being called the 2 subs 'master'- it'd be super hot to have the android be the master of the 2 human sluts and hyunjin would enjoy having the power dynamic of it 🤧🤧🤧)

the guards would find it kind of hot but would kind of get tired of king felix's possessiveness 😭 they've seen king felix fuck the reader brutally in front of them one too many times, so they know by now not to approach you unless ordered by the king himself or reader themself approach them (reader would have permission from king felix to-do so cause he wouldn't want his lover to be miserable and not talking to anyone else at all in his castle 😭)

also maybe some impact play with tied up reader-i'd imagine king felix having lots of toys, or a scene where reader is tied up in a bent over position and felix would be spanking them with his belt making them count!?!?!? hot 😩

reader would be going to work with seungmin, limping almost everyday as seungmin just smiles about it (some intense morning and shower sex before work with the ceo and sugar daddy 🤧) reader would be wearing a vibrator to keep it all in and for seungmin to play around in, would probably make reader wear a jockstrap as well for easy access for both fucking and butt slapping purposes. (reader's co-workers are aware of the relationship between him, the ceo and the rich boss of the company they made deals with, no one is particularly against it but they kinda feel bad seeing reader limp around as they work hard like usual as the secretary 🤐🤐🤐)

seungmin would just be turning the vibrator to the max and then just turning it off for fun-(reader would eventually get used to it as it happens a lot during work but it never fails to make them cum) jeongin would visit during his lunch break, chatting a bit before dragging reader away to the restroom for a quickie in a stall-(maybe a quick threesome in seungmin's office too and definitely reader sucking off seungmin under the desk hehe 🤧🤧🤧)

Also also also! i've read the seungmin fic and wow is it hot 😩💫 not bad at all for months of not writing for sure! Seungmin being the needy and horny one like 🤧 their first time having sex and seungmin already has reader calling him sir-(and god, seungmin fisting the reader after fucking them hard with his cum as lube!?!?!?!? 🤐) i love that seungmin was so sweet after it though but the ending-(reader should really learn to appreciate life before seungmin acts out his fantasies, especially when he gets to the punishment and dirtier parts of said fantasies-😶) overall a pretty great fic!

(just to say real quick-i've been a silent reader of yours (and some others) for a while now and i've read posts about interactions about a writer's work makes writers happy so main motivation of sending thoughts here hehe-might as well make the most of the anon function 💕 )

continuation to this ask again cause divine amusement 🤧

a filo in abroad :0 lucky i wanna get out of here cuz its going down in here like its so goddamn hot and dont even get me started on the inflation 😭💀 also political wise—ermmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

Anyways back to the topic at hand—

at this point, reader craves Jeongin's cums cuz like the amount of times he gets filled to the brim in a single day 🤐 like I defo feel like Jeongin checks on readers ass (like the pervy ass he is but perv! jeongin is defo one of my fav jeongin) like straights up fingers reader then be like "Hmm, its all gone—come, love- bent over the tree for me-" But after they find a cave to settle down, reader gets railed with the last of jeongin's energy as he casts the protective fox charms around the cave and the reader that will affect him as long as he stays within the cave's vicinity.

Next agenda is reader will have to gather food and firewood when the supply food they bought runs out cuz he needs to cook em— they'll be a scene where Jeongin is sleeping like a log where reader blows out the campfire at night and lays next to the fox— Jeongin's tails would subconsciously wrap themselves around reader protectively then reader would almost tear up a bit at that then good nights with I love yous aaa

Now to the part where reader vs soldier— Reader will put up a fight (cuz mama aint raising a pussy that for sure and jeongin would be proud af) So reader had to kill said guard, like split skull open type of kill with their trusty axe- Reader would drag the body back to the cave as well as some deer for dinner- Reader would probably curl up somewhere and wondering what theyve done (killing a person does take a toll outta someone) So while Jeongin still sleeping, reader is feeling immense guilt as he stares at the corpse. But I don't really think reader and Jeongin can end the war cuz its like a really huge war between opposing countries so their options include running far away enough or getting a safe hideout—

🤧🤧 hyunjin nutritious cum agenda? HAHSBSBA— but anyways I can just imagine Hyunjin looking at both of them in awe as he watches the sticky substance stick to their tongue and lips, like he couldn't help but reach out and finger the mouth of the one who isn't choking on his massive cock.

AND THE WAY READER WOULD ASK CHAN TO EXPLAIN IT CUZ CHAN IS BETTER WITH WORDS THAN THEM— 😭 it'll be both so funny and hot as Chan rides hyunjin's cock — he'd ask a question like that and Chan is left to answer as he already struggle against the android's cock- Hyunjin will slowly gain that master personality over time like— the possiblities is endless and the ship is too big anyway but i feel like lots of bondage will happen like both reader and chan tied up (this seems familiar ashjsj) and Hyunjin spanking them with a whip- Hyunjin would also try his best to find different ways to fuck them like installing new things like a bigger than the biggest mode cock-

King Felix has that exhibitionism and humiliation kink like-?! I believe the guards would literally have no choice cuz felix and reader fucks in the throne room at every chance they get-

Definitely see that like not only impact play with whips? He has so many toys and loves to test them out- i can see the nipple clamps and cock rings 🤐 being used on reader maybe a collar as well-

NO CUZ SEUNG WOULD DEFO MAKE READER WEAR A VIBRATOR DURING WORKING HOURS- and like Jeongin is a bit jealous since Seungmin and reader would be together for like 8 hours cuz work yk so Jeongin sometimes drop by to randomly bring reader to a room to fuck him saying shit like "you should come to my company as well- be my slut like how you are with seung-" maybe even fuck in Seung's office while Seung is in a meeting- Jeongin would leave a note for the CEO like "Fucked him here <3" Seungmin would laugh at that before calling reader after the meeting so that he could fuck him at the empty meeting room, crumpling all the left papers as he just pulls down reader's pants and uses Jeongin's remaining cum as lube-

AWWW Thank you so much! Also yeah- Seungmin puppy top agenda is spreading so thats why- Like literally a horndog at some point since a lot of people see seungmin as the innocent one out of the group knowing he probably hides the kinkiest side- (and yes the fisting scene was hard to write cuz I had to fit it into the fic at some part-) Aftercare with Seung>>> Defo love the sweet seung aftercare cuz ofc reader deserves it well- not until he decides to hit seungmin- And thank sm for the feedback :>

(That is very true- I love feedbacks at it gives me responses that not only help improve writing but also makes me want to write more so thank you :>)

aaa i answered this a bit late cuz im preparing for the new semester ;-;

[eilinelsghost]

💞 and 🤍 for the fic asks!

💞what's the most important part of a story for you? the plot, the characters, the worldbuilding, the technical stuff (grammar etc), the figurative language

This one I actually just answered in another ask, so I'll paste that answer in here too:

This one is surprisingly hard to answer because I have a very strong inner critic who constantly tells me that all of these have to be the most important all the time. But if I step back and think about the things that tend to drive my writing, I think it's probably the characters and the worldbuilding. Without having the characters consistent in a way where I feel like I can sort of pick them up and put them on and move about within their skin (to put it very weirdly), it is hard to find my footing in any kind of plot or language. It is the personhood of them that necessarily drives the rest. Which then ties into the worldbuilding because person and place are so intrinsically tied together that I find it hard to work within the one without the other. Plus, on a less overarching note, I just find that side of things fun. I love that process of "getting to know" the world around the characters and I get so excited anytime those aspects are picked up and noted by readers.

🤍what's one fic of yours you think people didn't "get"?

Hmm, I'm not sure if I have written enough yet to have one that people didn't "get," but I'm pretty sure there will be at least one or two as I'm finishing out this series. But from what I have so far, I'm guessing Ye Shall Render Blood might be the closest? Partly that's because it's sort of the "expected" scene that I wasn't anticipating writing, but also because for me it ties in so many little things from throughout the whole series, both those in the already written pieces and those from ones yet to come. So that's honestly probably my own fault! 😆

Thanks so much for the asks!

[ariadneslament]

Evil Dead Rise (2023): Review

I think I must thank my normie little sister because if it weren't for her, I would not have seen this film at the cinema just a few days after she came home with nausea because of its gory scenes. The poor lass must have thought it was just another horror-ghost/demon possession film with cheap jump scares as its shock value. She was mistaken. Gravely.

Although I have to disagree with her that it was not that disgusting, surprisingly, for a franchise that is famous for its "nothing you can exorcise, only the total destruction of the host body" headline, the violence is pretty much mainstream and digestible for non-horror fans like me. Very, very contrast to the remake of the original Evil Dead (2013) that takes a much darker and gorier path, or most of the films in this genre, especially the ones made in recent decades or years, whose only path to acknowledgement seemingly comes from their willingness to compete on who can be the most 'notorious' basis.

If you want an example, take a look at one title called Terrifier," which excels at nothing but brutality. I don't recommend it because I once had Twitter recommend a blooper clip from this film, and guess what? I felt nauseated. Then I felt a need to satisfy my curiosity by watching some clips from the franchise, and I lost my appetite for meat for 2 days (I AM SERIOUS). Hideo Kojima is correct when he said recently on Twitter that this film is not for those with weak stomachs like mine. So for your convenience, I don't recommend it (and it still amuses me even more that there are some who will pay to get cheap thrills from films like these). This is why I avoid many films in this genre, for they are nothing but repetitive, full of clichés, shallow, and, of course, deeply exploitative (oh, maybe when it comes to indie, I am just more into the pretentious side. If there must be blood and violence, there must also be context 😊).

Rather than going down such a dark route, Evil Dead Rise chooses to revive the original franchise's theme of mixing gore with humour. Except in this film, the director, Lee Cronin, perhaps due to his status as an indie (horror) director, infuses some artistic elements into the writing, so what he makes is more than just a fun horror with a shallow story.

With the 2013 remake relating it to the horrors of drug addiction and Rise relating it to motherhood, childbearing, and parenthood in general. Showing how much a parent has to grow up and sacrifice in order to bring a child into a world of potential pain and suffering. It’s also about how family drama should not be used to tear a family apart. Due to Beth (Sullivan) living her life on the road, she is attempting to experience something other than what her sister does. Even the marauder represents how much a parent has to sacrifice for themselves. With the kids literally hinging on the mother's body and ripping into it. The films are so simple, but the slightest little relatable message makes them so much more enjoyable and instantly rewatchable with the blood and gore.

I must also applaud the casting department for picking Alyssa Sutherland and Lily Sullivan to play the two estranged sisters. The two Australians do not share blood relations, but they do have some similar facial features, especially the jawlines (is it just me?). Sutherland here, particularly, has minimum acting records since she is basically a model, yet her unique facial features convey more than what it takes to be enough. Adding her almost 6-ft imposing stature, her presence is perhaps the sole reason why the film stands out in the franchise. Hers is simply memorable.

All these clever decisions by the production team not only render the film a good box office performance—while many other indie horrors stuck as B-rated crap destined mostly for streaming services—but also somehow make me crave for it more, and I can't wait for the sequel by Lee Cronin.

I hate to quantify something that is hard to quantify like this. But if I have to, let's say it's 7.5/10 stars.

[silvcrignis]

Zero Chill || Claude & Joanna

amaidasfairassummer​:

For a moment Joanna thought Claude looked like he wanted to slap her. She watched him pinch his nose, the clear exasperation, interested to see if he would actually lose his temper, but also feeling annoyed herself, at the fact that whatever she said it always seemed to be the wrong thing. She had tried to soften her voice to make it clear she wasn’t telling him off, and for what?

It wasn’t as though Joanna still couldn’t see that he had some feelings for her, whatever they were exactly. There were too many things Claude had done and said which didn’t make sense otherwise, even if it still rendered his insults and rudeness bewildering. And she still didn’t have him figured out enough to know if this particular incident was more about protectiveness or possessiveness.

As he spoke of what he would have done if he’d thought she’d needed protection though, she realised with discomfort that Claude meant it. Joanna had had boyfriends before who said things like, “If he comes near you I’ll punch him,” but it had mostly been posturing really. This was different. “That would be stupid- I don’t want anyone getting killed over me. If you’re saying that was all jealousy, then you still didn’t need to do that. I wasn’t interested in him.”

Joanna had to admit she quite enjoyed hearing him call her cakepop, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her making her point. She looked up at Claude and frowned. “Not that you knew that. For all you knew, I could have really liked him and you could have been ruining that.” Most likely that was the point, which made her more indignant. He had no right to be possessive of her. “Claude Frollo, we’re not together. You don’t get to try to stop anyone else from having me.”

Surprisingly ENOUGH this was the closest to CALM he could be right now. If his hands were not placed on her shoulders they would have been SHAKING with barely restrained emotion right now. In terms of MOST normally functioning society this would NOT have been considered anywhere CLOSE to calm but on the Claude Frollo scale of things he was doing FANTASTIC. Of course that was just a SMALL positive in this fucking fiasco. All of his prior unpleasantness & snippy QUIPS were meant to DISTANCE him from the way he felt about her which CLEARLY had not worked considering where they had ended up but he KNEW why he had done what he had done.

No matter how strongly he felt about her, he knew she deserved better than a monster like him. Everyone did.

In fact he could BARELY remember a conversation between them that had NOT ended with one of them being ANNOYED with the other, this seemed like a HORRIBLE idea, getting VUNERABLE with her when he was certain she could not STAND him but if that was the case she could have just LEFT, she did not have to keep STANDING here with him, especially with the thumb of his left hand gently brushing against the side of her neck with HARDLY controlled affection. He had always been TERRIBLE with emotions, they were MESSY, he preferred to approach problems with LOGICAL solutions but his logic seemed to be on vacation hours at this moment.

He bit down on the inside of his cheek when she told him she was in fact NOT interested in the other man, his sharp teeth sinking into the skin hard enough to IMMEDIATELY draw blood but he could worry about that later. The biting was good, it prevented a potential SMIRK or smarmy comment, he was TRYING a new approach to having feelings for someone, taking the sighed advice of “You can’t keep doing this to yourself...” he had heard from many of his friends.

”... No offence but I would have SERIOUS concerns if you DID like him... I know a f u c k b o y when I SEE one,” he huffed, resisting the urges to roll his eyes. Of course he knew saying that was hardly a solution, it hardly covered his explosive reaction or his enjoyment of the display of FEAR seen in his former rival but if there was ONE thing Claude Frollo was it was opinionated whether it was to his detriment or not he ALWAYS had something to say & certain things were much EASIER to say than others. Especially considering how stiff his spine went at the THOUGHT of someone else being with her... He did not find it a pleasant one at all & that was when he realised all this NONSENSE was not going to stop unless he FINALLY put a goddamn label on the way he felt about her & actually made it clear to her... Fuck he would rather DIE for an eighth round.

His position shifted again & suddenly he was on his knees in front of her, both of his hands holding onto her & for the BRIEFEST moment he looked utterly TERRIFIED as he looked at her.

“Well clearly we have reached an IMPASSE because the thought of you being with anybody else bothers me FAR more than it should if my feelings for you were entirely platonic...” he admitted, ALREADY feeling the urge to bolt after saying JUST that but he managed to KEEP himself where he was, clearly struggling with what he was about to say next because he was POSITIVE he was about to be embarrassed in front of every single patron in this bar.

“... Is us being together a possibility?” he managed to finally quietly ask without his gaze meeting her eyes, already regretting asking. He felt like a MORON & of course his face was already going a deeper PINK than his normal complexion so he was positive he looked like one too but fuck at least he was finally not RUNNING from this... The worst she could do was call him a fuckhead & say no but her saying no was not what he really feared. He was more concerned with his own reaction to that “No.” considering burning down an ENTIRE city in response to a “no” was something he had done before.

[petersbaby]

My little girl

Based loosely on the lyrics:

And if you were my little girl

I'd do whatever I could do

I'd run away and hide with you

Part one ♡

(Part two)

Warnings: blood/blood kink, mentions of violence, quick smut (oral m receiving), slight ddlg themes, female reader

“Just do it, please get it over with”

He was bracing himself for the pain he was about to feel, biting down on his hand in anticipation. You didn’t wanna hurt him but it’s the only way you can ever both be free.

All your energy, strength, and focus goes into this. It takes a minute to work, as the chip was implanted much deeper than you or him for that matter thought it was, but it rips out of his skin as he lets out a muffled groan and it lands on the floor next to him, covered in blood.

Your knees go weak and you have to sit down for a second to recover, wiping your nose. Now, the plan was in motion and there was no turning back. By doing this, you committed to run away with him, to stay by his side no matter what.

It was a strange feeling, knowing you just granted him a lifetime of freedom by removing the device from his neck. He called it a soteria.

You were close, but he couldn’t ever go into much detail, but he had told you that he had killed before and has special powers to do so.

Since he did that, he had the device experimentally implanted by the doctor here to keep him docile, under control. It was hard to imagine that, the sweet man in all white with a friendly smile and kind words being a killer.

He treated you with so much love, or more so his idea of love. He’s never mentioned if he can love or not, but if he can, you’re sure he loves you.

But, if there’s anything you’d learned, it’s that anything is possible and things are not always what they seem to be.

Next to him on the floor, you get a good look at the damage done by your forced implant removal. It’s surprisingly not that bad at all, with only a little bit of blood inching down his neck.

Before it can reach down to pool in his collarbone, you lean over and lick the blood clean off his neck and place gentle but passionate kisses to the area surrounding the wound. You take time to savor the taste, feeling as though you were one in that moment. His breathing hitches and you pull away.

“I’m sorry, I guess that was kinda weird.”

He laughs a little and shakes his head.

“No, not weird. It was-fuck.”

He shifts uncomfortably, and it’s hard to get a read on his emotions.

“Did I make it hurt worse?”, you asked, concerned.

“No, you actually.. you made it better, I think. Doesn’t hurt anymore”

You smile, satisfied.

You don’t quite understand, a switch had not been flipped. He was still the same Peter you always knew. You had kind of expected him to morph into some kind of monster once the chip was removed, but sitting next to you was the same person you loved, ocean blue eyes and a gentle face.

You didn’t know the exact specifics of the implant in his neck. All he said was that it restricts his powers, which he needed in order for you both to escape so you agreed to help him get it out.

“Okay. So… are you ready now? For the plan?”, you ask, nervous but excited to watch it all go down. He hadn’t told you every detail, but it was going to be violent and that was enough to get you intrigued.

“No, not right now. Not yet.” he replies.

Again, he shifts. This time you take your eyes off of his face and bring them downward to where he was having a problem.

“Is…that why you don’t wanna stand up?”

You couldn’t help but giggle a little, you could tell he was flustered and overwhelmed.

“The chip, it suppresses more than just my powers. It rendered me completely from feeling certain things as well. When you kissed my neck, I.. shit.. I could explode right now”

You scooted closer to him. “Can you do that again? Clean up the blood, you know?”

You nodded happily and repeated what you had done minutes before, trailing from his collarbone up to his neck stopping at the wound, licking up the red substance

and kissing his neck at the same time. He let out a long, desperate groan.

When you pulled away, before being able to wipe your mouth, you’re pulled back in again except this time your lips were on his.

It was messy, passionate, probably a little gross. But the way he was kissing you was animalistic, something you’d never ever expect out of him. You were surprised by this behavior, as he’s never been this way with you before.

You couldn’t tell if you were scared of him or wanted to fuck him. Both. It quickly turned to desperation more than lust.

“We don’t have too long, please just help me”

“Okay, okay, stand up”, you told him, voice slightly hushed, staying on the floor but sitting up on your knees.

His back pressed against the wall, you reach to feel him through his pants. So hard that it was probably painful. You unbuckle his belt and undo the zipper while looking up at him through your eyelashes.

. *this* is where something changes. His eyes are darker now. Once again, slightly scary but also really hot. You take his cock in your hand, gripping it firmly before quickly moving the tip to your lips. He groans again, cursing under his breath.

You took the head in your mouth, licking it and sucking on it, swirling your tongue all over. He takes a handful of hair from the back of your head and starts moving it for you, the slight sting from the pulling of your hair making you let out a whimper.

Before you know it, in an instant, the whole thing is in your warm and wet mouth, feeling the tip of it hit the back of your throat as he eventually just took over, fucking your mouth and desperate to release.

Your eyes watered, just from the reaction of gagging a couple of times. You understood his need, so you happily let him do with you what he pleased. After a couple of minutes, he’s fucking your face relentlessly and you look up at him through the blurry tears, just hoping you’re doing a good job at pleasing him.

You were, as his head fell backward and his eyes screwed shut. Neither of you get any warning, and he goes over the edge, cum going directly down your throat.

You continued to suck as it just kept coming, swallowing as needed. It wasn’t the best taste, but because it was his, you wanted every last drop of it. Once you were sure he was done, you pull your mouth off of him to which he groans and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, and he reaches down to offer help standing up.

He gets his dick back into his pants and secured his zipper and belt, leaving his shirt untucked for the first time you’ve ever seen.

Once you’re up and he’s dressed again, he wipes underneath your eyes with both his thumbs, getting the tears off your face and kisses you on the forehead. He takes your hand, and you head up the stairs to the main part of the lab.

“Go to your room, princess, and wait for me.”

And you do as he says. He didn’t want you out there because he could never hurt you, even on accident. He wanted you safe from the violence that was about to take place, and he didn’t want to traumatize you either.

Soon enough, you’d be the last one left alive in the building along with him. He chose you, he spared you. After this, he told himself, he will protect you for the rest of his life.

[stromuprisahat]

Zlatá Malina (Golden Raspberry), pt. 3

Shadow and Bone- Chapter 21

Presumably their last night together, before the Big Bad Darkling feeds one of these deserters to volcra. (I guess being shot to death in front of his fellow soldiers would be preferred...) A lot of melodrama, hand-holding and some horrible(y nostalgic) memories...

Let’s forget a whole night together is more than any reasonable officer would allow them.

Three days in “captivity”, believing the world is about to be destroyed, and this is all Alina can think about: MalMalMal...

Our heroine, ladies and gentleman.

It’s also funny- a public execution of a deserter is “cruelty”... in a world, where people are burned alive merely for the crime of existing.

Sometimes I wish Sasha was threatening less and acting more. Less bark, more bite. If “all the mercy traitors deserve” was none. We could’ve been rid of Malyen, and Alina would have two books to grow.

Or kill that fucking deer, rendering it useless...

Don’t worry Alina, Mal doesn’t mind you’re tainted. He stuck his dick in worse places... I don’t care if it’s just clumsy formulation, the implication’s gross.

Also: I need a Darklina rooftop sex fic ASAP!

For someone this self-aware he acts (un)surprisingly worse whole next book. Oh, wait, his fragile male ego will be threatened by his more powerful gf, I get it...

a.) Recently we’ve discussed what could Malina talk about post-TGT, since Malyen hates reminders she was Grisha and the Darkling existed. So here it is: glorified childhood on repeat.

b.) Kinda funny first thing they remember about “beloved mother figure” is “anger”... And we’re supposed to be upset, when she dies...

c.) Alina “My life has been hard” Starkov. Alina “I know what it means to be an outsider struggling to survive.” Starkov. Alina “It’s hot outside, so let’s lie on marble fucking floors to cool down” Starkov.

It’s obvious they were so busy and well-guarded, they had no free time to seek comfort anyone else could... *pointedly looks at our marble floors*

I know teenagers are supposed to be dramatic, but she’s talking like a forlorn wife, who haven’t seen her husband for years...

Some glorified, pseudo-romantic self harm as a treat:

Then he’d picked me up and spun me in a circle, and I’d clung to him, ... Dimly, I’d been aware that I still had a shard of the blue cup in my hand, that it was digging into my palm, but I didn’t want to let go.

It’s not like Alina can’t let the shard fall. How is she even holding it, if she’s hugging Malyen? Why would she hug him with closed fist? Aside from being too stupid not to cut her own hand on purpose...

Kinda funny her bestie couldn’t wait to hug her after a day? Two? Away, but doesn’t notice her palm is “dripping blood” and heads for lunch. Peak romance.

Another little detail about how “bad” did those orphans have it: Alina stops working and runs off, yet there is no repercussion mentioned.

In case you’re wondering, why should you cry about Ana Kuya in Ruin and Rising, she’s obviously loving guardian. A girl mutilates herself, what’s worse- she gets the floor dirty!

I’m taking it back, the self-harm is okay. Malyen kissed it better. Two years later...

Wow, this mutually incosiderate codependency’s so romantic, it almost makes me cry (tears of frustration and thinly veiled disgust).

Ivan’s so nice. Malina got whole night and he lets them make out right in front of his salad anyway.

pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 4, pt. 5, pt. 6, pt. 7, pt. 8, tag for all icluding the rest

[friedbaekhyunandeggso]

Reason ~ ch. 12

Pairing: Female OC x Levi Ackerman

Tropes: Instructor x Cadet, Strangers to Lovers, Male MC falls first

Warnings: angst/slow-burn, strong language, upcoming smut(18+ readers only for those chapters pls 🙈), physical assault/violence, mentions of scars

Brief Summary: This story takes place a few years after the Fall of Shiganshina. Devon Alba is in her final year of the 101st Training Corps (844-847), due to her success as a cadet she gets the chance to meet Captain Levi. She doesn’t think too much of him until he catches her in the midst of doing something that she isn’t entirely supposed to be doing. But surprisingly, this leads to something unexpected...

Chapter 1 [...] Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13

Rank day was getting closer. The pressure amongst the cadets was mounting higher. Those with Military Police dreams were amping it up during any graded assignment.

Such as the current assignment, each cadet was to go through the woods and cut through as many mock titans as they could. Each cadet was going solo, so the anticipation to do well was considerably high.

Devon had gone first-due to last name order-and had ‘killed’ 5 out of 5 wooden titans presented in her obstacle course with flying colors. 

She currently sat on the ground, pulling out grass boredly. She sat with the handful of cadets that had completed the assignment.

In her peripheral vision she watched Freddie, the Garrison officer assisting Chief Shadis today. He was talking to a cadet.

She bit her lower lip. She glanced around at the cadets—they all seemed busy in conversation.

Now’s my chance.

She glanced around one last time before swiveling around the tree she was sitting against and crouched as she ran deep into the woods.

She wanted to find more mushrooms for her midnight meal with Levi tonight. They were a hard ingredient to steal from the market so she’d rather take some from nature itself.

She wandered further into the woods—her eyes straying to spot any fallen trees. As she diligently made her way through she noticed a tree stump in the distance.

Her eyes lit up and she eagerly made her way there. The tree stump looked like it’d been dead for a long time. She glanced around it before spotting a cluster of brownish gray mushrooms. She immediately recognized them from the books she’d read; they were called oyster mushrooms.

Perfect.

She bent down. Just as she was about to take out her foldable pocket knife, her head was suddenly slammed into the tree stump before her. A sharp pain coursed through her head.

She spun around but was suddenly kicked down. Her chin hit the ground and her hands were suddenly being wrapped around in rope.

The throbbing pain in her head made it hard to focus. It was hard to open her right eye because blood streamed down her face. She could taste its coppery flavor on the corner of her lip.

Suddenly she tensed when she realized she couldn’t let her attacker bind her hands. That would render her utterly defenseless.

She shoved her hands away from his grasp and turned to lay on her back. Her attacker kicked her harshly in the face. Blood coated her lashes as black spots lined her vision.

She suddenly raised her leg and kicked where she thought her attacker's groin would be. And it seemed she’d guesstimated correctly because a loud, pain-filled groan erupted through the air. She didn’t hesitate to utilize that chance to stumble up to her feet and run.

She wiped the blood coating her eyes with the back of her hand and ran. Her vision was blurry and red-rimmed. She did her best to ignore the pounding pain coursing through her forehead.

She was suddenly grabbed by her hair and swung around. Her fists flew before she even processed who she was fighting.

Carter Bass.

Her fist connected with his cheek and jaw. He caught her next oncoming punch. He shoved her back against a tree—still gripping her wrist tightly. Suddenly he raised his free hand and aimed a pocket knife at her.

She gripped his wrist a second before the tip of the knife connected with her neck. It was her pocket knife. She must’ve dropped it when she was slammed head-first into a tree stump.

Her hand shook as she held Carter’s inching hand back with as much force she could muster. If she lost even a fraction of her grip, he was sure to stab the knife straight through her jugular vein.

She spit her leaking blood in face.

“You fucking bastard.” she said through gritted teeth. Speaking made the pain in her head worse.

The rage in his eyes didn’t budge as he attempted to bring the knife closer to her, while keeping her other hand pinned to the tree. The tip of the knife grazed her neck.

Her hand shook from the pressure of trying to hold him back.

“How…would you…justify this… to our superiors?” she heaved out, hoarsely.

“Hah—There'll be nothing to justify when I throw your body into the river.”

She nearly grimaced but scowled instead.

“Are you that scared of rank day?”

She knew it wasn’t the smartest thing to say but she couldn’t help it.

It did as expected, drove him right to the edge. He forced past her grip and stabbed the knife directly into…the tree.

She’d ducked down and twisted free of his grasp.

She spat out another wad of blood leaking down her face before running once more. The trees around her went in and out of focus as she ran without looking back. She hated having to run but the wound to her head had done a serious number on her.

She suddenly cried out when pain erupted from her right shoulder. She crumpled to her knees and gasped when she saw the tip of her knife sticking out her shoulder. Blood seeped out the wound at an alarming rate.

She glanced past her shoulder to see Carter running towards her direction.

A shot of adrenaline coursed through her veins and she pulled the knife out her shoulder and stood up. But before she could do anything, a vine must’ve caught her foot because she fell back.

She let out a cry as her body connected with the ground. But somehow-her fall didn’t seem to end there. Her body continued to fall downwards-rolling and hitting a length of rough rocky terrain as she went.

She couldn’t tell what was going on. The pain in her shoulder and forehead were ripping her apart.

Finally, her body went still. Her eyesight was unclear and spotty when she looked up. She saw Carter’s distant frame hunched over a jagged edge. He stared down at her.

She couldn’t make out his facial expression because her head began to spin. Pain suddenly overwhelmed her senses.

A low gasp left her lips before she succumbed to the pain and let the darkness overtake her.

[calaofnoldor]

What’s Mine

Characters: Sam x F!Reader, Dean

Words: 7,595

Summary: The secret you and Sam are hiding from Dean is threatened by your inability to keep your hands off each other.

Warnings: 18+ no actual smut but plenty of implied smut, pre-smut, and smut adjacency lol, secret dating, enemies to lovers, jealousy and possessiveness (exhibited by both sam and reader), slight obsession with sam’s big ass hands (i blame this largely on @walkerboy290​‘s glorious hand porn gif sets), and language

A/N: inspired by and written for @thinkinghardhardlythinking​ bc she’s been bugging me to write smut and using her birthday as a bargaining chip, so i hope you’re happy sai. happy (belated) birthday babe! i suppose in my subconscious need to truly honor you, this became the longest one shot i’ve ever written... that and this is now also a little birthday gesture for the brilliant and beautiful @sams-sass​​ (damn your close birthdays!) even though she never asked for smut (if you hate it, i’ll write you something else!) happy birthday to you too, darling!

also written for @superbadassnatural​‘s 333 badass followers celebration with the prompt “___ and I are together.” “Yeah, right, and I’m Santa.” and @writethelifeyouwant​‘s 300 follower fic challenge with the prompt “All the pretty girls like Samuel” (both prompts are bolded in the fic) i’m sorry i’m so late! congratulations to both of you and thanks for letting me enter your challenges!

[basically i have a lot of people to blame for this disaster 😂]

Square Filled: Secret Dating for @spnfluffbingo​ and Enemies to Lovers for @girl-next-door-writes​ Make Me Feel Bingo

MASTERLIST

The waffles on your plate are surprisingly good for a sketchy, 50’s-themed diner, but unfortunately your attention is elsewhere. In fact, the two distinctly masculine voices behind you have been obnoxiously impairing your ability to savor the buttery, syrup-doused carbs since their owners sat down in the adjoining booth. It’s the topic of their discussion that disturbs you, and nips at your conscience until you realize you can no longer take off without imparting a few words to your oblivious colleagues.

Turning your head subtly to the side, you try to catch a glimpse of the men you’re about to confront in your peripheral vision. From what you can see, they’re both rather burly, a little rough around the edges, and from what you’ve heard, recklessly cocksure. You know the type all too well. Being a lone hunter of the fairer sex for most of your life means you’ve long since learned that the best way to combat their kind is with a steadfast façade of thick skin and unwavering confidence.

So you sigh and put on your best smile before turning around, crossing your forearms along the top of the booth seat, “Listen fellas, I hate to interrupt, but I really wouldn’t bother with the bamboo dagger and Shinto priest if I were you.”

“And who the hell are you?” the one with shorter hair demands. He’s a bit stockier than his companion and has a face that looks like it was designed by Abercrombie and Fitch - well that explains the arrogance.

“I’m the person who’s about to save your asses evidently,” you respond with a smug grin, trying not to let their absurdly good looks deter your act.

Abercrombie’s partner, the Fabio wannabe, releases a quiet scoff, “And how are you gonna do that?” he questions dubiously.

“By letting you in on a little secret…” Throwing him a tight smile, you lean forward and lower your voice, “That ōkami you’re after? It’s not an ōkami, it’s a ghoul.” Sitting back, you await the outrage.

“What?! But that’s not possible, I checked the lore. And it’s obviously got a type.” Fabio’s glossy chestnut locks fall across his delicate features as he shakes his head in disbelief, and you almost snort out loud. How did this amateur expect to hunt with hair like that?

You look him over, taking in the broad shoulders and muscled arms, as well as the obvious height advantage he’s got over Abercrombie even whilst they’re both seated. To be honest, you’re surprised he’s referencing lore at all. Guys his size always assume they can either outman or outgun whatever obstacles cross their path, and they almost never take women like you seriously, despite your ample years of acquired knowledge and invaluable experience. It’s this experience that surmises a bit of antagonism here is inevitable, so you might as well get a head start.

“Yeah well maybe you should check again, big guy,” you glance down at his hands, your first mistake as their sheer size render you speechless and subsequently agitated at yourself for the momentary lapse of visceral lust, but the show must go on, “Make sure those giant, lumbering hands of yours don’t fumble over anything important or you might miss the connection to Isabelle Harding. You see it’s not ‘a type’; it’s revenge.”

“Wh- Bu- I looked through the files. I wouldn’t have missed that,” Fabio insists.

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you type ‘Isabelle Harding’ and ‘1987 school bombing’ into your search bar and see what comes up?” you gesture towards the laptop on their table with a raised brow. Minutes later, both men are dumbfounded by the revelation on the screen, staring between it and you with their mouths agape.  

You chuckle silently at their faces, “Don’t worry, there’s no need to thank me. Although you rookies might wanna go home and let the more experienced hunter finish up here.” As you’re about to bid them farewell, you dip back in to add, “Oh and a word of free advice, maybe don’t discuss supernatural monsters quite so loudly in public spaces next time. It might invite unwanted attention.”

With that, you turn around and slap some cash down next to your unfinished waffles, before grabbing your jacket and strutting out the door.

Sam is left in utter confusion. The sudden animosity you had spouted his way seems completely baseless and unwarranted. Had he somehow offended you? Sam generally considers himself a highly respectful and fairly easy-going guy, not quite as hot-blooded as his brother, and thus not as likely to provoke such antipathy from a complete stranger. To make matters worse, he certainly can’t deny that something about you had registered within his subconscious as inexplicably attractive, despite the way you’d embarrassed him. In his flustered and slightly aroused state, it had been all he could do to remain awestruck in his seat and stare blatantly at your ass as you walked away.

The next time Sam sees you is only twelve hours later and no less humiliating. You’re mid-swing in the killing blow against what you had accurately predicted to be a ghoul as he and Dean tumble in. Despite the low lighting, Sam is once again stupefied by your raging beauty, augmented by the incredible skill you’re displaying in a much more physical sense this time around. Before he can drag his eyes away, there’s a collective shout of “watch out!” and suddenly you’re right in front of him. In a blur of events, you somehow manage to push Sam out of the way and successfully decapitate the unexpected second ghoul that had been sneaking up behind him, with only a slice across the arm to show for it.

“Didn’t I tell you two to go home?” You’re panting from the exertion and Sam’s gaze lands on the neckline of your shirt, skewed from the fight and revealing a good amount of cleavage. He quickly averts his eyes. What is happening? Sam can’t remember the last time anyone had evoked such a staggering reaction from him. He feels as if he’s a mere spectator in his own body.

Across from him, you press your hand against the wound and curse when it comes back covered in blood. At your groan of pain, Sam finally finds his voice again, “Shit. I’m so sorry! I don’t know how I missed that other one. I- that normally doesn’t happen.”

“Yeah, I bet that’s what you say to all the girls, huh?” you reply offhand, still a bit out of breath.

It’s easy for Sam to dismiss your mocking given that he feels terribly guilty for being the cause of your injury. From where he’s standing, the cut looks deep. “Here, at least let me stitch it up for you. It’s too awkward a position for you to do it yourself,” he offers, holding out his ginormous hands to you like he’s waving a white flag.

“I think you’ve done enough damage for one day, haven’t you, big guy? At this point, I’d rather Abercrombie over there be the one behind the needle.”

“Who- what?” are the first words Dean speaks since the action has died down.

You turn to face the shorter guy, “Oh don’t look so surprised. You might as well be the model for a slightly older Ken doll. Are you up for it or not?”

Dean’s mouth hangs open as he tries to determine whether he should feel flattered or insulted.

“Uh- actually, I’m better at stitches than my brother,” Sam butts in.

“With those jumbo, fumbling hands? Yeah, sure you are, big guy,” you decline skeptically.

“It’s Sam,” he states through a clenched jaw.

“OK, Sam. Since I just saved your life, you mind making yourself useful and burning those bodies while your bro puts my arm back together? You know, as a ‘thank you’ perhaps?”

Sam is stunned for the third time that day. No one has ever belittled him (whilst gratuitously attacking his size) insofar without any apparent reason. It seems as though his very existence upsets you and the arbitrariness of your contempt has caused an anger to stir beneath him, but beyond that lies bewilderment and irritation. How had he managed to accomplish two such massive mistakes in front of you in the span of so short a time? Perturbed and bitter, Sam silently sets to work on the bodies.

Meanwhile, you’ve come to a surprising realization as Dean begins to cut the fabric of your flannel away from your damaged arm, the name ‘Sam’ and the words ‘my brother’ resounding in your head, “Wait a second- there’s no way… you’re not… the Winchesters, are you? Sam and… Dean?”

“The one and only, sweetheart.” He sends you a dazzling smile that is as perfect as you’d expect, but within his eyes is an underlying poignancy that you recognize as clear as day: an indication of a traumatic past and a lifetime spent plastering on tough veneers. You notice as well how gentle his touch is and how his stitches are practiced and prudent. Perhaps you had judged him too hastily.

Through an incredulous chuckle, you retort, “Well I can’t say I didn’t expect more from you, but at least this’ll get me a free round of drinks at the hunters’ pub tonight.”

Dean laughs with you before sobering at the thought of how his baby brother must be feeling, “Hey listen, take it easy on Sammy, alright? I don’t know what’s gotten into him today but he’s not usually like this. He’s actually the smart one, believe it or not.”

Scoffing, you can’t help but smile back at Dean and soon find an easy rhythm with the older Winchester, despite your awkward introduction.

From several yards away, however, Sam looks wistfully back to see you smiling lightheartedly at something Dean’s said, the two of you huddled in close proximity as his brother’s hands drift across your bare skin. Something akin to envy bubbles within his chest although he’s aware it makes no sense, so with a frown, Sam does his best to shake it off and get back to work.

But it’s not easy to forget you. And just as Sam is beginning to think he’s rid that awful day from his memory, you pop back into his life three months down the line.

“Well, if it isn’t the overgrown hunter extraordinaire Sammy Winchester.” The sarcasm that oozes from your otherwise beguiling voice has him gritting his teeth in no time.

“It’s Sam.”

“So you here to mess up my hunt again, Sam?”

Although he wishes he could have been the bigger man instead of surrendering to the resentment you roused within him, after a couple repeated hatchet burying attempts fall through, Sam just can’t resist the little game you’ve started.

Over the next few months, you and Dean form a fortuitously close bond and the older Winchester develops a habit of calling you up when faced with a troublesome hunt, and vice versa. Despite Sam’s fabricated displeasure, a show he puts on mostly for Dean (since any other emotion would seem illogical given the way you treat him), Sam is peculiarly and begrudgingly excited to see you every time. But the match never ends. In fact, Sam lets it intensify each time you work together, always astounded by how you manage to get him so worked up.

“I’m telling you, it’s a rugaru!”

“Right, because the last time we listened to you, things worked out so well,” you remark sardonically.

“The lore says-“

“Ooh, quoting the lore again now are we, Mr. Know It All?”

At this point, Sam is about as huffy and puffy as the big bad wolf and if he were a cartoon character, there’d surely be steam erupting from his ears. “Look, Y/N, this isn’t about who knows more or who’s right; this is about saving those people’s lives!”

“You think I don’t know that? Was I not the one who saved your life the first time we met?”

“OK, alright, just shut up you two!” Dean finally shouts above you, “Would it kill you to just get along for two seconds?”

“No,” Sam admits.

“Probably,” you say at the same time, causing Sam to shoot you his overly perfected bitch face.

SIX MONTHS LATER

“What the fuck?!” Dean’s booming voice echoes throughout the bunker and moments later you and Sam come flying into the kitchen to answer his call, guns at the ready.

“What? What is it?” you ask while Sam scans the room.

A whimper is the only the way to describe the sound of Dean’s reply, as he points toward an unseen object on the floor. Edging toward him, you lower your gun in the direction of his finger until you discover the source of Dean’s distress.

With a sigh, you look toward Sam who is also exhaling in relief at the sight of the entity in question. The two of you share a moment of wordless conversation before simultaneously dropping your guns with a conclusive nod.

“Why does this feel like déjà vu?” Dean’s tone is still timid and appalled, and you nearly laugh at the idea of a grown-ass man looking so aghast because of a used condom.

“Because it kinda is…” you supply unhelpfully, earning yourself a small glare from the man beside you.

“Dean,” Sam begins with a deep breath, “There’s something we have to tell you… Y/N and I are together.”

The snort that escapes Dean is full-bodied and borderline psychotic, “Yeah, right, and I’m Santa!”

You wait till his snickering subsides, “No, it- it’s true.” Your voice is hesitant yet hopeful, “We’re not joking. We’ve kinda become… a thing.”

“A thing?”

“Yeah, well you know, I don’t wanna have to put a label on it or-“

“Y/N’s my girlfriend,” Sam declares with conviction as he reaches out to curl his long fingers around your waist and lasso you towards him.

“-Buuuut, that is the one I’d use if anyone asks,” you quickly affirm with a stiff pat to your boyfriend’s abdomen, wincing at the unversed attempt of PDA and missing the dimpled grin that crosses Sam’s amused features.

“Well, I don’t buy it. I don’t believe either of you.” Dean’s sturgeon face comes on strong as he shakes his head and points a challenging finger at you, “Kiss him, right now,” he dares with perked brows.

The eye roll you respond with is so dramatic your entire head moves with it. But then, without a moment of pause, you turn your body into Sam’s, reach up to grab the back of his neck and pull him down for a searing kiss. Now this is something you’re well-versed in. The reunion of your lips starts off relatively slow, but it doesn’t take long to escalate into something more fiery that involves tongue, the eager push and pull movements of your bodies, and Sam’s enormous hands cradling your head.

After a moment of shock, Dean objects, “Alright, alright, I get it! That’s enough of that!”

Unwilling to recede just yet, you linger in the kiss for a little longer, delaying your separation by nibbling down on Sam’s lower lip and tugging gently, only releasing it as you pull away torturously slow. When the two of you finally open your languid eyes, it’s to stare into each other’s dilated pupils and ponder the moment for an indiscernible minute.

“What th- I said, I get it! Now could please stop ogling each other before my lunch comes back out the wrong way?!”

But the way Sam’s smiling at you is addictive and you can’t bring yourself to look away until he forces a break by leaning in to plant a tender kiss upon your forehead before tucking you into his side as he faces his brother again.

Dean’s face is covered by his hand, “I’m gonna need a minute. I just-“ His features leap through a range of expressions as he tries to find the right words, “When the hell did this start anyway? I thought you two couldn’t stand each other?”

“Yeahhh, that was mostly an act. Although we bought it at first too,” you explain with a shrug.

“We weren’t pretending the whole time. It just kind of happened and we didn’t really know how else to act around each other by then,” Sam adds.

“Right, basically it turns out there’s a fine line between love and hate... and that line is hardcore yearning.” Your words bring a chuckle to Sam’s lips but his brother still looks out of sorts.

Shaking his head with closed eyes, Dean sighs, “Alright, can someone just explain to me exactly how this happened, because I’m still not computing here. But spare me the details and try to keep it PG-13,” he emphasizes with adamant hand gestures.

“How do you know it’s not PG-13?” you inquire with a held-back laugh.

“Ha. With the way you two were playing tonsil hockey just now, I can tell you’ve been around the bend way more than I wanna know. My little brother doesn’t kiss like that on the first date.”

It’s impossible to hold back a giggle at the memory of your ‘first date’ and the way Sam had kissed you, “OK well, that would be hard, considering the story involves a lot of sex... You wanna give it a go, big guy?” you pass the ball over to Sam with a quirked brow and lowered voice, to which he responds with narrowed eyes and pursed lips, a little warning glance that you’re well aware means ‘save it for the bedroom’ but you simply smirk up at him.  

‘Big guy’ used to be a term you called Sam in contempt, but when the feelings between you evolved and a sexual relationship developed, it became an innuendo, such that calling him ‘big guy’ in front of Dean or in public almost always results in glorious sex. In fact, sometimes you believe the nickname has held a slightly obscene connotation for you since the beginning.

Afterall, your carnal longing for him has been present from day one, although at the time you had believed it to be purely physical. Sure, you had dreams about having him in various positions in your bed, but you figured those were merely betrayals of your subconscious mind. That was until one day, a heated argument in a rare moment alone had ended up in a violent make out session, after which the two of you had just barely gotten the last of your clothes back on before Dean walked in. One look at your worked up and frenetic states alongside the disordered condition of your surroundings, and he immediately assumed you’d been fighting again (which wasn’t terribly far from the truth), chortling as he asked if you would have killed each other had he returned a bit later.

With a clearing of his throat, Sam begins to recount the tale, “Uh, well it started in that motel in South Carolina, while you were out getting food…”

“Look, all I’m saying is there is no way he’s using the hospital as a dump site! It’s just not feasible!”

With complete disregard for the peace and quiet of the other residents within this thin-walled motel, you and Sam once again find yourselves in a shouting match.

“Oh right, I forgot! You’re Sam Winchester! How could you POSSIBLY be wrong?! Mister ‘look at me, my IQ and LSAT score match my fucking height! Oh and I also happen to have the physique of an Adonis without even owning a gym membership!’” you roar bitterly, gesticulating with your hands to help better communicate your pent-up indignation.

“Right and you’re Y/N Y/L/N, so how could YOU possibly be wrong? Miss ‘look at me, I never went to college but I’m a genius AND I can kick ass! Oh and I also happen to look effortlessly stunning through it all!’” Sam suddenly seems bigger than ever as he towers over you, that panty-soaking deep voice emanating from his diaphragm and infusing itself throughout the entire room until all you can see, hear, and breathe is Sam.

The fury takes over and you don’t notice your feet taking you closer to him, “Oh yeah because you don’t make EVERYTHING you do look so unnecessarily hot and make me wanna rip your clothes off all the damn time!”

“Fuck! And you don’t always drive me crazy when we have these stupid arguments and your chest starts heaving and you look so insanely delectable I just wanna pick you up and fuck you against the closest surface!” By now, the distance between you is essentially nonexistent and your brain is no longer run by reason.

“So why don’t you then?” are your famous last words, prompting Sam to grab you wildly by the back of a thigh, lifting slightly and driving you to climb up him like a spider monkey fleeing from a grounded predator, while his other hand pushes your hair aside to gain better access to your face. Your mouths clash in a fierce battle and before you know it, Sam’s huge hands are cupping your ass as your legs wrap around his waist and you rut into him, hands flying from his shoulders to his hair. Those divine chestnut locks that you’ve always dreamed of running your fingers through. They’re somehow even softer than you imagined and the revelation, in conjunction with the way Sam’s tongue is becoming increasingly aggressive causes a fresh surge of libidinous energy to rocket through you. As a result, you give his silky strands an irresistible tug and drink in the moan he makes, the sinful sound reverberating straight down to your core as you clench around nothing.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sam groans as he grudgingly forces himself to pull back as much as he can, “Are you sure? Is this what you want? Cause I can’t- Y/N I won’t be able to stop myself if we keep going.” His eyes squeeze shut as if the notion of stopping or the act of keeping his lips away from yours is causing him genuine pain, and the entire gesture moves you.

“Fuck, you really are the opposite of everything I thought you would be,” you make a quick mental note to apologize later for your initially presumptuous behavior although you can’t find it within yourself to feel any remorse right now, “Yes, please Sam, fuck me. I want you so bad… I think I have since we met and I saw those gorgeous hands of yours,” you confess, biting your lip lightly.

Sam breathes out a low incredulous laugh, “What, these?” he asks, removing one of the aforementioned hands away from your butt to bring it into your line of vision.

“Yes, fuck they’re so big and beautiful and strong and-“

“Alright, I don’t need to know about your weird hand fetish!” Dean hollers abruptly, rubbing his fingers across his eyes as if he could somehow erase the image of you and his brother together out of his retinas. “OK, but that was like… four months ago. You mean you’ve been sneaking around behind my back this whole time?”

“Well at first we didn’t want to tell you because we weren’t even sure what it was ourselves,” you divulge.

“Yeah, we didn’t want to try to explain something that we didn’t understand yet,” Sam supplements, hoping his brother will understand the motive behind your secrecy.

You nod along, “But then… it got a little harder to hide.”

The apprehension behind Dean’s emerald eyes is unmistakable as he reluctantly inquires, “That’s why this felt like déjà vu?”

It’s with a grimace that you reply, hesitantly, “Remember the time you found those panties in the backseat of the Impala?”

Dean’s eyes grow comically wide and Sam ducks his head in preparation of what’s to come.

“Yeah, there’s a story behind that…”

The click of her heels against the porcelain-tiled foyer irritates you as the three of you stride through her front door. You’re posing as detectives sent to question this overdressed young woman about her late husband, but the moment she lays her eyes on Sam, you reckon she’s forgotten her beloved’s damn name.

“Oh my… lord and savior. Well aren’t you a tall drink of water?” she beholds breathlessly with a seductive bite of her painted ruby lips.

You cough loudly and Dean sniggers, thinking you’re annoyed about Sam getting such commendation and attention during a serious case.

“I know this might be the grief talking, but I would climb you like a tree,” she purrs, sauntering up to Sam with an exaggerated sway of her hips. With her half-lidded doe eyes adorned with dark, fluttery lashes and low, sultry voice, you have to admit she’s quite attractive.

Grinding your teeth as your nails dig into your palms, you glower at the woman unreservedly. She, however, takes no notice, running her hands along Sam’s forearms before gripping at his bicep to lead him toward her living room. “Please, come have a seat, detective. You can ask me whatever you want.” The wink she appends is somehow the final nail in the coffin.

It’s with zero hesitation that you feign the reception of a notification on your phone before declaring, “Oh would you look at that, the uh… Sheriff needs us back at the station, Sam. He says it’s urgent.” You try to keep your tone even, thankful that you all maintained your real first names for these aliases, “Dean, you’re good to conduct this interview on your own, right?” Without waiting for an answer, you trample over to snatch Sam’s other arm and ignoring the horny widow’s gaping mouth, proceed to haul him away.

Dean sends you a strange look but relents, “Uh, yeah I guess, OK.”

As soon as the door closes behind you, your hand shifts down to lace your fingers with Sam’s, marching him towards the Impala with a staunch and mighty purpose. Even Sam’s elongated legs stumble to keep up.

“So uh… when did you give the Sheriff your number?” There’s an edge in his voice that normally disappears when it’s just the two of you.

“Wha- I didn’t. Sam, I just made all that up,” you tell him as you reach the car and open its back door. Pushing Sam inside, you climb in swiftly after him, wasting no time as you straddle his thighs and begin to undress him, only pausing when he looks up at you in adorable, puppy-like confusion.

“Wait, what? Then what are we doing?”

That’s when it finally dawns on you, “Hold on a sec, were you… jealous?” You can’t help but smile, finding it amusing that he’s stewing in his own envy after what you just witnessed.

“No, I just- He was kinda all over you this morning.”

“You mean like the way Mrs. My-Husband-Just-Died-But-I-Wanna-Climb-You-Like-a-Tree was in there?”

“Oh, that’s what this is about?” Sam perks up, the hint of a smug grin ghosting across his lips.

“She was practically holding your hand!”

“That’s what bothered you the most?” He dips his head to catch your eyes and those variegated irises burn into you with an intense, questioning gaze, alight with mischievous curiosity.

“They’re my hands to hold,” you contend with a pout, subconsciously clenching your thighs around his as you seize one of his large hands with two of your much smaller ones, “Just like you’re my tree to climb.”

Sam’s head falls back in bright laughter, “I thought you said they were ‘oversized’ and ‘ungainly’?” he teases, quoting your previous slights.

“You know I only said that cause Dean was there.”

“I’m pretty sure you called them ‘fumbly’ and ‘lumbering’ the first time we met.”

Staring at his fingers as you play with them, you shiver at the memory of how they feel all over you. “That was cause I used to think all hunters with a Y chromosome were cocky, misogynistic assholes who needed to be knocked down a peg or two.”

“But I proved you wrong, right?”

“Fuck yes you did. So, so wrong. And now you’re mine, and I don’t like seeing other people touch what’s mine,” you growl before returning to your earlier task of removing his clothes, pouncing on him when your fingers finally land on bare skin. You kiss him fiercely, swallowing his surprised grunts with glee, and as his hands start travelling from your hips up to your back, holding you tight against him, your lips move down to his pulse point, sucking, licking, and nibbling, “Mine.”

“Fucking Jesus Christ on a cracker! You goddamn rabbits!” Dean squawks in protest as he begins to pace the floor, “Have you no decency?! And in my poor Baby! While I was busy doing all the work, saving lives!”

You roll your eyes at his melodramatics and can feel the tension in Sam’s abdominal muscles as he attempts to restrain his laughter. As if Dean had never taken a break during a case for a stress-relieving quickie before, or hadn’t been at least somewhat grateful to be left alone with a beautiful woman.

His next comment confirms your point, “Although, if I remember correctly that lady was a fox.” After a brief pondering pause and an introspectively appreciative smirk, Dean’s whining resumes, “But seriously! I can’t believe you two! Here I was feeling bad for forcing you to work and live together, hoping you’d eventually learn to get along when this whole time you were shacking up like animals and casually defiling my Baby just because what? Some girl touched Sam’s hand?!”

Feeling emboldened by the catharsis of this long-overdue airing of your dirty laundry, you decide to add to Dean’s exasperation, “Yeah and in the spirit of honesty, that might’ve happened more than once.” Sam tries to hold back his snort as he gives your hip a playful cautionary squeeze while Dean’s feet come to a full stop as he turns to give you a death glare. “Hey, it’s not my fault all the pretty girls like Samuel! And I’m pretty sure we wiped her down after.”

“I don’t even-“ Dean purses his lips and quirks his head with a dynamic expression of unbearable vexation, “You better be getting me pie every day of the week for what you did.“ He takes a deep breath before circling back, “Wait, OK so you’re telling me that a used condom ended up in our kitchen because- what? You two couldn’t keep it in your pants long enough to find a bed? You know what, forget I asked. I don’t wanna know. Did you at least sanitize the place after?? No, of course you didn’t, you left a fucking condom on the floor… I think I’m gonna throw up.”

But you hardly hear Dean’s rambling because you and Sam are far too wrapped up in each other, smiling as you recall the events of that morning.

Your eyes slowly drift open to find the most exalting sight in all the world: Sam Winchester’s sleeping face, blissful and serene. Lifting a hand to gingerly cup his cheek, the corners of your mouth curl up when he leans into your touch. It’s moments like this that make you wish you could wake up next to him every morning.

Only after you’ve traced his every feature and planted a soft kiss where his dimple would be if he were awake and smiling, do you carefully peel yourself from his side, slipping out of his hold as you quietly climb out of bed. Sam rolls over a bit and you freeze with bated breath, watching as his big arm extends out in your direction as if trying to reach for you in his sleep, before stilling again.

Mornings like this are rare and you want him to soak up all the restful sleep he can. Once you’re sure you haven’t woken him, you scan the room for something to cover your naked figure, until your eyes land on the flannel he’d worn the night before. Picking it up, you bring it to your nose and inhale deeply to revel in the residual scent of Sam. Another glimpse at his peaceful, sleeping form has you smiling fondly. God, you are such a goner for that man. It’s becoming hard to reserve your soft looks toward him for private moments alone.

You can barely remember how it happened, but over time, you’d come to learn that Sam is nothing like you originally imagined him to be. He’s kind-hearted and open-minded, the type of soul that can find hope and beauty in even the darkest of places, a far cry from the shallow macho man silhouette you’d expected him to fill. In fact, Sam routinely defies the expectations others have enforced upon him, proving his worth time and time again as he’s persisted through some of what must be the toughest challenges to ever face a single human. Yet through it all, his spirit remains intact, never once yielding to cynicism or resentment or apathy or even the building of walls as you and Dean have resorted to. He is truly the bravest man you know and infinitely more competent than your first fluke of a hunt with him had mistakenly suggested, both in the field and in bed.

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you wrap yourself in plaid and head out the door. Dean never questions your use of Sam’s shirts because ever since Sam firmly insisted on giving you his flannel after your second encounter with them resulted in Dean cutting your own top apart, you’ve grown into a habit of borrowing Sam’s clothes. You always claim they’re more comfortable than your own and Sam’s feigned annoyance over you ‘stealing’ his belongings tides Dean right over.

Half an hour passes before Sam approaches the bunker kitchen to find you with your back towards the entrance, busy prepping breakfast in nothing but his plaid. He pauses in the doorway to stare at you for a minute, licking his lips with an irrepressible smile. For some, this may seem like a stereotypical morning after, but for a couple of hunters, it feels like a dream come true.

After finally returning to the bunker last night following the completion of a series of successful hunts, you’ve got no solid obligations and very little on your to-do lists today, although Sam’s got more than a few ideas about how to pass the time, and a couple more come to mind when you stretch up on your toes to reach for something, causing the hem of his shirt to glide up until its corner reveals just slightest hint of your incredible ass. Sam can’t suppress his little grunt of approval, which catches your attention and makes you turn your head, peering back at him over your shoulder.

You smirk at the blessed view of him standing there in nothing but the pair of thin grey sweatpants you’d bought him a month ago when you discovered the viral online phenomenon, “Hey, big guy. You just gonna stand there and gawk or do you wanna make yourself useful and grab another plate from the top shelf?”

Chuckling at your false animosity, Sam stalks toward you, “Good morning to you too.” One of his vast hands falls upon your hip as he presses the maximum possible length of his body into your back side, while his other hand reaches up over your head to snatch the plate you’d asked for.

“Good morning indeed,” you concur with a silent gasp when you feel the generous bulge in his pants.

“Oh that’s not morning, baby girl,” Sam husks into your ear, “That’s all you.” His powerful arms slink around you and his lips find their way down the side of your neck, lingering in that tender spot just behind your ear whilst you tilt your head and close your eyes, contentedly surrendering yourself to the moment. “I ever tell you how good you look in my shirts?”

Wiggling your butt back to tease him a bit, you’re pleased with the hiss it elicits. “No, but you made it very clear how bad I look in Dean’s,” you counter playfully.

The man behind you scoffs, “I didn’t say you looked bad; you could never look bad. I just… don’t like seeing you wear his clothes.”

“Oh, I know,” you turn around in his arms, “I just don’t understand how Dean doesn’t know yet. I mean, I think you’ve been very obvious.”

“And you haven’t?”

“I’m not the one who leaves hickeys in very visible places all over your body!”

Sam’s eyes glaze over in lust, an idea clearly forming in his head as he glances down at you. “Dean’s a hot-blooded guy; he needs to know you’re off-limits,” he alleges before attacking your throat with his mouth.

“So why don’t we just tell him?”

Without pausing his efforts, Sam reminds you, “Because you said you thought it was kinda hot, all the sneaking around. Mmpf, and because you said you wanted to see how long it would take him to figure it out.”

You nod while running your fingers through his silken strands and leaning back to give him more purchase, “That’s true. But in my defence, we always have this conversation when we’re doing stuff like this and I can’t think straight when your hands and mouth are on me.”

“Kinda like how I can’t think straight when you’re wearing nothing but my shirt?” His kisses travel down from your neck to your collarbone and shoulder as he slides his loosely buttoned flannel off to one side, “Fuck, you’ve got me so hard.”

Without warning, Sam seizes your waist and hoists you into the air as if gravity were an absolute joke, before plopping you down on the edge of the steel counter, his thumbs digging lightly into your ribcage.

“Sam! This is where we eat!” you protest with a laugh.

“Exactly. Which is why I’m gonna devour you here.” He dives back into your neck, continuing his work on a little pink mark that’s already beginning to form.

“Oh fuck… Wait, what if Dean walks in?” It’s through a great struggle that you manage to push him back an inch.

“He’s got a date with the Impala. He’ll be in the garage all day, trust me.” Sam’s gaze sweeps over your body suggestively, “Now are you gonna let me taste what’s mine?”

With an equally lewd survey of his extensive frame, you reply, “As long as you let me impale myself on what’s mine later.”

His eyes darken and the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only person he’s ever wanted ignites a confidence within you, so in a rather swift motion, you grasp him by the shaft through his sweatpants – the delicious groan he emits at your touch is enough to turn your pussy into a slip and slide – and pull him back towards you until the clothed length of him is resting against your folds and your noses brush, while his hands settle naturally on your thighs.

Shivering, your breath stutters and for an instant you can do nothing but bask in the closeness of him. Sam seems to enjoy it too because he closes his eyes as he rests his forehead against yours with an elated sigh. For the second time today, you marvel at his beauty, whispering a string of gasping kisses along his lower eye socket and exquisite cheekbone, simply dying to breathe him in. All of him is so immaculate and sublime. Each time the two of you reconvene, you want to savor every fucking inch of him, but there are a lot of inches, so the task often overwhelms you. Still, you must try. Locking your ankles behind him, you use your legs to pull him even further into you and the friction makes you lose your mind.

“Fuck, baby girl, you keep that up I’ll be making a mess in my pants,” Sam grunts with his lips upon your cheek.

Your breathless laughter fills the air, thinking of the stain you've undoubtedly already left on his charming grey sweatpants. Nimble as he is, Sam takes advantage of your open mouth and plunges his tongue inside. After so much preamble, the kiss is heavy and full of need. When the pressure of his lips pushes your head back, your hands fly to his wrists for the sake of your balance.

From there, they journey upward across his vascular forearms to his bulging triceps, fondling his massive shoulders before sliding along his traps and up the gorgeous length of his perfect neck, until you finally reach the treasure trove of his impeccable locks. You tangle your fingers into the lush mane and yank, gently but zealously, making Sam growl into your mouth. His voice is the hottest thing you’ve ever heard and the sounds he makes always drive you insane.

Never breaking the kiss, Sam’s colossal moose paws roam up to your back as he slowly lays you down on the counter, his member somehow still notched at your entrance and the new angle rousing a quiet moan from you. When he ultimately pulls away, you pitch forward to chase after his lips, but Sam only grants you a devilish grin and a quick peck to the corner of your mouth before moving down to your jaw and neck. While one palm kneads at your breast through his shirt, the other begins pushing and pulling at fabric to uncover more of your skin for his wandering lips.

“Sam! Augh!” you cry out as your head falls back.

“I got you, baby. I’m all yours. Gonna make you feel so good.” As if to attest his words, he rolls his hips into yours and a needy whimper escapes you. With your fingers still twisted in his hair, Sam leaves no part of you untouched as his mouth travels down your body. But upon reaching your navel, he pauses, those vivid, color-changing eyes peeping up at you to check for any signs of discomfort or objection. Finding none, his thick tongue pokes out to lick a deliriously winding path from your belly button to your exposed clit. Then, pushing down tenderly on the insides of your knees to open you up to him, Sam directs you one last look that is both hungry and reverent, “I still can’t believe this is mine.”

Dean had stopped you halfway through your recollection, but it appears that was still too much for him, “What did I do to deserve this?! I feel like I need to go bathe in holy water for a week.”

You and Sam both open your mouths to respond but Dean cuts you off vehemently, “Ba-da-da-da!” His vocalized outcry is complete with animated gestures featuring an accusing index finger. “OK, before you two tell me another traumatizing story, that’s enough of the who, what, when, where, and how… I just need to know why. I mean, is this- are you- …?”

Sensing the protective wheels turning in his head, you decide to put Dean out his misery, “I’m not just with Sam because he’s an incredible lay if that’s what you’re wondering. We can skip the fatherly ‘what are your intentions’ talk. Yes, Dean, I am in love with your little brother… although ‘little’ is not exactly the word I’d use to describe him.”

“Sammy, could you please control your woman?”

“My woman?” Sam sounds mostly amused but you’re almost certain you can hear a hint of pride in his voice.

“Yeah, I admit I’m surprised I didn’t see it until now. You two are kinda oddly perfect for each other, you know, in a weird, kinky way.”

“To be honest, we’re pretty surprised too. I mean, he doesn’t look it but this guy is kind of territorial,” you quip whilst cocking a thumb in Sam’s direction.

“I don’t need to- Wait a minute, so all those bruises you told me were from hunts?” Dean’s eyebrows soar towards his hairline.

Chewing on your lip, you confirm his hypothesis with a miniscule nod.

“Yeah well that time you saw my back,” Sam chimes in vengefully, casting you a handsome grin full of mischief as he reveals, “that wasn’t a werewolf, that was Y/N.”

With eyes as round as dinner plates, Dean frantically shuts you both down, “OK, that’s it. Torture Dean time is over. I don’t wanna hear any more about your depraved sex lives! Look, I guess I’m happy for you guys, although mostly cause I don’t have to play referee anymore, but I’m gonna need you to follow some ground rules around here. Like rule number one! No sex in public places!” he starts counting with his fingers, “Always put a sock on it when you’re busy! And most importantly, no sex in Baby!”

Your laughter follows Dean as he wearily saunters out of the kitchen, an exhausted expression on his face. Turning to your newly outed boyfriend, you petition excitedly, “Does this mean we can have shower sex now?”

“Not while I’m around!” comes Dean’s snappy answer.

In contrast, Sam gives you the same look he did on that dreamy morning, “Oh trust me baby girl, I’m gonna get you wet somehow.”

“Still within hearing distance! I think I liked it better when you guys were at each other’s throats.”

As you’re giggling, Sam leans down to whisper in your ear, “For the record, I’m in love with you too.” And just like that, you’re tempted to re-enact your previous kitchen escapades.

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