#its managed to stay so fresh despite not even needing to

[figs-oliomedley]

Shoutouts to all the writers, literally h o w

[deebris]

Weight of Care

Simon Riley x little sister Reader (platonic!)

Synopsis: Simon, your older brother, has been your guardian since you were a baby. Amid the collapse of your family, he made the courageous choice to take you out of the house, raising you as if you were his own. However, despite being happy, your relationship is complicated. While you see Simon as a paternal figure, he struggles with the pain of being mistaken for one. His heart tightens every time you call him "daddy," and he thought you had managed to move past that—until you do it again one night.

Warnings: Just a little angst with a happy ending; reader is 6 years old.

Word count: 1.2k

“Did you brush your teeth?” Simon asked upon hearing your muffled laughter. He opened the bedroom door, its walls now marked by your numerous drawings. Toys scattered across the floor shifted as he entered, and with the first step he took inside, something cracked underfoot, breaking.

“How many times have I told you that you need to put your toys away after playing?” he said firmly, shooting you a stern look. Simon hated messiness, but with you around, it seemed impossible to keep everything in order.

“I was going to put them away,” you murmured, embarrassed by the scolding. But your guilty expression quickly turned into a tearful grimace as your eyes fell your sheep, now shattered on the floor. “You broke it!” Your childish scream echoed through the room, and you hurried to gather the pieces with trembling hands.

“If you had put it away, this wouldn’t have happened,” he accused you, hoping it would serve as a lesson. Maybe then you would finally start to be more responsible with your things. And even knowing he was right, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness at seeing your broken sheep.

Watching you wipe your tears with the sleeve of the pajamas and hearing sniffles made his heart soften. It was frustrating how he simply couldn’t stay mad at you. The last thing Simon wanted was for you to become a spoiled child, but in that moment, it was hard to maintain his sternness.

He already felt guilty for not being able to take care of you completely due to work, and knowing that Mrs. Trelawney, your babysitter, was much more lenient than he was only made everything harder. Every time Simon came home, you seemed more stubborn and whiny.  

“Come on, it’s time to sleep.” He lifted you by your armpits and placed you in bed, pulling up the yellow blanket that you loved so much. You had already taken a bath and were wearing clean lilac pajamas covered with stars. “I’ll buy you another one, you don’t need to cry.”  

“But it’s not the same,” you murmured as he collected the toy pieces from your hand, placing them on the dresser to throw away tomorrow. Some parts were sharp, so he checked your delicate hands, worried about possible cuts.  

“It’s the same,” he insisted, sighing tiredly as he tucked your feet under the blanket. Surprisingly, you didn’t argue, remaining strangely silent. “What’s wrong?”  

“Sorry,” you whispered, feeling bad for upsetting him. “I promise I’ll put it away.”

Your promise made him cast a quick glance at the bedroom floor, where pink, blue, and all other colored toys were scattered. Even your dolls were out of place, thrown in various corners. He still felt frustrated because you always said you would tidy up and never did, but this time it seemed different, so he decided to put a bit of faith in your word.  

“Tomorrow. Now you need to sleep.” He stood up to leave, but suddenly remembered something:  

“Teeth.” Simon said, and you blew near his face, letting him feel the freshness of mint on your breath. “Show me your tongue.” He spoke in a suspicious tone, knowing that you sometimes didn’t clean your mouth well. “Good.” He praised, satisfied to see you sticking your tongue out, then making a face, which made him laugh inside.  

He turned off the bedside lamp, watching you settle into the pillow, and began to move toward the door. But hearing your naive voice, he stopped in his tracks, his heart tightening:  

“Daddy, can I go to the museum with my class tomorrow?”  

“What?” Simon asked, stunned, still turned away from you, his hand frozen on the doorknob. Surprise echoed in his voice, mixed with a thread of worry. He slowly turned around, trying to decipher the expectation in your gaze.  

It had been so long since you last called him that. Simon thought he had finally managed to correct you after so many attempts, but he realized that wasn’t working. He had lost count of how many times he repeated that he was just your older brother, but deep down, he knew he was guilty. In trying to erase any trace of your father in your life, he had created a space where that confusion was natural. It was understandable that you saw him this way.  

“Miss Sarah is taking us to the museum tomorrow. Can I go?” You repeated the question, oblivious to the tension in his shoulders.  

“Why didn’t you ask earlier?” Simon swallowed hard, trying to regain his composure.  

“I forgot,” you explained, sitting up in bed to grab a piece of paper from your backpack. It was a permission slip for guardians to sign, allowing the trip. “Please?” You pouted, holding the paper in one hand and one of your decorated pencils in the other, as if that could increase your chances.  

“To the museum?” He asked, his voice tinged with melancholy. Simon sat on the edge of the bed, already starting to sign his name on the line, but his mind wandered to a distant place, filled with his conflicting memories and feelings.  

The situation between you two was complicated. You were the only family Simon had left, a little girl. He still remembers when he found out that his mother was pregnant and, even more, the first time he saw you. He had been away from home for several years, and coming back always felt torturous. But the idea of having something so small and innocent waiting for him was what truly saved him. 

Simon took you from home long before your parents died, unable to bear the thought of you growing up in that environment. After his brother died, he projected all the fears and regrets an older brother could carry onto you. It was as if you were his only way to redeem himself for Tommy. You were so young that you barely remembered the rest of the family; for you, the world revolved around Simon.  

He didn’t even realize he was wandering until he felt you gently pull the paper from his hands. Your big eyes locked onto his for a moment, filled with concern, until you broke eye contact, standing to put the paper away and lie back down, pulling the blanket over yourself.  

“Are you okay?” You asked, noticing he was still standing there, lost in thought. The nervousness in your voice snapped Simon back to reality, bringing him to the stillness of the room, where silence hung between you.  

Simon thought of several things to say, like, “You know I’m your brother, right?” or “We’ve talked about this,” but it felt like a never-ending cycle. It was as if nothing could stop you from continuing to call him that. He didn’t understand why it bothered him so much. He knew that, in practice, he played the role of a father in your life, something he chose for himself. Even so, every time he heard, a strange sensation coursed through his body.  

“Good night.” He simply said in his deep, familiar voice, but now, something different was in the air. For the first time, he didn’t try to correct or resist, finally allowing himself to accept the way you called him ‘daddy.’  

You hesitated for a moment, sensing something strange about him before responding softly: “Good night, Si.” And a faint smile formed on his lips, something rare, as if, at last, something had clicked into place.

Taglist: @aenishas

[rafeandonlyrafe]

tatted

words: 1k

warnings: established relationship, husband!rafe, tattoos

“mmm, good morning wifey.” rafe pulls you in closer to him, legs tangled together under the blanket.

“i’ll never get sick of hearing you call me that.” you smile, pressing a kiss to rafes chest as you snuggle into him, the morning light illuminating the room.

you’re both still on vacation mode, having just gotten back from your honeymoon two days ago. “i wish i didn’t have to get up, but i’ve got an appointment, baby.” “wait, what?” you whine, picking your head up. “you didn’t say anything about a doctors appointment.” your bottom lip pouts out, making rafe lean forward to kiss the frown off your face. 

“don’t worry, we will spend all day together as soon as i get back.” rafe slides himself out from underneath you, quickly heading to the closet to get dressed. he waited as long as possible to get out of bed, not wanting to part from you, but now having to rush out the door.

“mmm, i’ll probably stay in bed all day.” your body was still on maldives times, not even bothering to readjust to being back in the outer banks.

“perfect.” rafe leans over the bed, giving a kiss goodbye. “no need for my wife to even lift a finger.”

you smile at rafe, cupping his jaw to give him a firm kiss. “come home soon, i miss you already hubby.” 

--

“that was a long doctors appointment.” you frown as rafe reenters the house. you eventually dragged yourself out of bed, taking a shower and eating what you considered breakfast despite it being past noon.

“you know, darling” rafe says as he toes his shoes off, leaving them in the foyer. “i just said appointment, nothing about doctors.”

“what other type of appointments are there?” your brow furrows together as rafe joins you on the couch.

“tattoo.” rafe says with a shrug, making your eyes widen.

“you-you got a tattoo?” 

rafe raises his left hand. you finally realize he has a clear wrap covering his fingers. you take his hand gently in yours, looking through the film at the first letter of your name, complimented by a small heart on his ring finger.

“i’ll put the ring back on once it’s healed, but just in case i ever have to take it off, i need everyone to know that i’m still yours.” rafe says, waiting for your reaction.

“i love you.” you finally manage to get out, melting into rafe, making sure not to press against his hand as the red skin heals.

--

“i’ve got something for you baby!” rafe calls out, smiling as you skip into the kitchen.

“what is it?” you question, tilting your head to the side, expecting rafe to be holding something in his arms, but instead he lifts his loose sleeve, revealing fresh ink on his inner bicep. 

“whats it say?” you quickly move closer to read the script, eyes filling with tears when you realize that rafes newest tattoo is your wedding vows.

“oh.” you cover your mouth. “rafey, this is so sweet. i love it.” you press your lips against his. rafe clearly saw your reaction to the first tattoo, the way your eyes tracked over it whenever he moved his hands, the way you were practically begging to be fingered with just his tattooed finger, watching it disappear inside of you, the cold press of his ring against your cunt.

“love having reminders of the best day of my life on my body.” rafe never viewed himself as a tattoo guy, seeing himself as too indecisive, but his mind quickly changed when he realized they could all be dedicated to you, the one constant, the one steady thing in his life.

--

“i’m thinking about getting another tattoo.” rafe hums. its been a couple months and the script on his forearm is now fully healed. 

“really?” you hum. “what are you thinking, my name on your dick?” you joke, but rafe still cringes thinking about the needle dragging over his sensitive skin.

“definitely not. i was thinking your eyes on the back of my neck.” rafe turns, rubbing his hand over the area he was thinking.

“wouldn’t that hurt a lot?” you ask with a pout, but rafe just shrugs.

he makes an appointment the very same day, looking through all the pictures he has saved of you until he finds the perfect one. you’re smiling at him on the other side of the table on your two year anniversary of dating. 

he shows it off to you a week later, and you’re surprised how much you like it, kissing down his spine when you help him take his shirt off before looking at yourself in the eyes, but in tattoo form.

--

rafe won’t admit it to you, but he’s addicted to getting tattoos, wanting to cover his body in everything and anything relating to you. he does end up getting a few others, mostly to fill up what he feels are blankspots, a smattering of patchwork tattoos covering his body, along with a few more dedicated to you.

“rafey?” you call to him as he comes home, his hand now wrapped in clear plastic. 

“hey baby.” he smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. you eye the wrap until rafe turns his hand to reveal that he has the word married across the side, yet another reminder of your union.

“i was actually thinking…” you mumble before trailing off, not restarting your sentence until rafe nods at you to continue, looking at you expectantly. “i was actually thinking of getting a tattoo myself. just the letter r on my ring finger. to match yours.” 

you twist your ring on your hand shyly, not sure if rafe would like the idea of you getting tattoos. you’ve never shown any interest in getting them yourself, but you’ve had to take your ring off enough times to swim or wash dishes and don’t want to be without that reminder of rafe even for a short amount of time.

rafes smile stretches across his cheeks. “i thought you’d never ask, wifey.”

rafe sets an appointment for you with his favorite tattooer before you can second guess yourself.

taglist: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie

[shalomniscient]

convenience, part 1 || tsukishiro yanagi x reader [NSFT][MDNI]

Your heat, rather inconveniently, comes a whole two days early in the middle of your shift at your job. Your boss drops you off at a heat clinic, and you manage to get paired with who you think might just be the most perfect alpha in all of New Eridu.

cw. omegaverse, alpha yanagi, omega reader, all the usual omv stuff like knotting & breeding

notes. wrote this in a haze of horny delirium for tsukishiro yanagi. yes there will be a part 2 at some point because i will most certainly slip and slide back into horny delirium for tsukishiro yanagi one of these days

Heat clinic.

Such a nice, polite word for what’s essentially a fuck-centre.

Yes, you know in reality it’s just another facet of reproductive healthcare services, and there’s nothing really intimate about it—if the dozens of screenings, tests, and legal documents were anything to go by—but the concept itself is still a little funny. The idea that something so inherently primal could just be dressed up in some clinical wording and a facade with the aesthetic of a dentist’s office and suddenly be completely socially acceptable.

A foggy part of your brain is trying to do the same right now and draft up some polite excuse as to why you had to leave work early today, but with the way Yanagi’s cock is literally rearranging your insides, it’s an effort in futility.

You almost melt against the sheets with another low, drawn out moan feeling her all the way in your damn stomach. You barely even remember how you got here; your heat, the damn unpredictable thing it is, had hit early while you were still on your shift. Staying in the store would’ve been a terrible idea, what with it almost being rush hour, and so your poor boss—a beta man, thankfully—had sped you on over to the nearest heat clinic in Lumina Square. And you had writhed and squirmed on the bed that had too many too sterile pillows for God knows how long until they finally managed to send an alpha in to help you. She’d smelled of fresh laundry and warm bread and by that point there really wasn’t much else you wanted to think about besides getting her scent all over you immediately.

“Yanagi,” you whine, wiggling your hips petulantly at her slow, controlled pace. It’s strange, how well her name fits on her tongue despite you only learning it a few—minutes? hours? you don’t even know, honestly—ago. The alpha behind you croons low in her throat, leaning down to brush the bare, sweat-damp skin of your shoulder with her nose. But instead of that skin-to-skin you expect, you get smooth leather instead, and you remember that this is a damn heat clinic, and all heat clinic alphas have to wear a Mask.

It’s a safety precaution, and a sensible one at that; having an omega be accidentally marked during what should just be a transactional encounter would be horrifying for both the alpha and omega, and a world of legal pain for the clinic. Hence the invention of the Mask—a generally non-invasive little leather contraption that covers the alpha’s mouth completely, with well placed openings to still allow for easy breathing and speech. You’re normally more grateful for its existence in keeping omegas such as yourself safe, but right now it may as well have been invented by the devil.

“Breathe,” Yanagi reminds you, her voice ever so soft in a way you’ve never heard an alpha be before. Your previous heat partners, while still somewhat gentle—you’d specified as such in your documentation—still tended to have that typical alpha-ness to them. Demanding and commanding, eager to take and wring as many orgasms from you as they can manage. Which is, of course, exactly what you need, deep in the throes of heat as you are, but it leaves you with a rather heavy mental weight after that takes a while to lift. But Yanagi is calm, measured, and careful, even as she sinks balls deep into you, knot bumping the stubborn ring of your entrance. It makes your basest omega instinct preen with satisfaction at being so tenderly cared for, that you find yourself thinking, quite stupidly, that you could get used to this—to Yanagi.

She coaxes you out of that little reverie with the brush of her thumb against your clit. You jolt, startled but pleased, rocking forward slightly onto the sheets ruined with your slick. Yanagi follows with a roll of her hips, bumping the head of her wonderful cock against that spongy collection of nerves and drawing another warbling cry of her name from your lips. She moves with such patient elegance and finesse that you’d think she wasn’t in rut and had to find refuge in the nearest heat clinic like you. Or, rut clinic, in her case. This particular branch in Lumina Square did both, and what a blessing that turned out to be.

“Yanagi, faster,” you urge, whiny and out of your mind with lust, looking over your shoulder at her. Soft pink eyes meet your own, and her pupils blow just a little wider. You hear her breathe in deep through her mouth, the sound amplified by the Mask, and a primal giddiness runs down your spine. You know what she’s doing; inhaling your scent and letting it coat the inside of her mouth, her throat, and letting it fan the flames of her own lust. She relents with the quietest growl you’ve heard from an alpha, drawing her hands back to rest them on your hips, palms flat against your skin.

And then she’s snapping her hips forward, fucking you, and you’re completely and utterly gone. Your head drops, cheek against the mattress as your arms give out under you, and you melt against the sheets into a delicate arch that has Yanagi twitching inside you. Your brain drips out of your pussy around her cock, not a damn thought in your mind beyond the steady, rhythmic drives of her railing you senseless. You can feel her knot swelling, bumping against the lips of your cunt and it only makes you squeeze tighter around her.

Yanagi pants behind you, nails digging more into the meat of your hips. The scent of her floods your senses, and she almost smells like home were it not for the underlying, extremely faint but still somewhat noticeable scent of ozone and iron. She’s testing the waters with her knot, seeing how much you’re ready to give by pushing it forward ever so slightly then drawing back. It makes your fingers curl in the sheets, more needy whines falling from your lips as you beg her to stuff you full. Yanagi shudders at that, leaning down to—or attempting to—nose the dip of your spine between your shoulder blades.

“I’m going to knot you,” she promises gently, and you mewl in anticipation. “Be sweet for me, okay? Breathe, and relax. You’re doing so well, good girl.”

Holy fuck.

“Likes to be praised” was not an option even given to you on the forms, but somehow, either by luck or intuition, Yanagi had struck absolute gold. You nearly cum then and there at the praise, moaning unashamedly as your cunt clenches like a vise around her cock. Yanagi makes a small, choked noise in the back of her throat, clawing at your hips to steady herself again. It takes her a moment and several calming breaths before she can resume her slow press into you and you bite the sheets to make up for the fact you can’t sink your teeth into her shoulder instead.

Yanagi is already big, deliciously so, but her knot is certainly something else. You’re suddenly grateful for the generous amount of lube that was provided in the room and that Yanagi had the sense to use before she stuffed you full of her cock. It makes the stretch of her controlled slide into you far more bearable—not that you would’ve given up even if it wasn’t. Heat crazed as you are, you’re sure you’d find a way. Thankfully, Yanagi’s foresight made such extremes unnecessary, and she nuzzles soothingly at your neck, by your scent gland as she inches deeper and deeper, stretching you more and more until her knot slips fully inside you with a wet pop.

Your eyes roll back into your head and you cum with a loud cry, inner walls spasming and fluttering around her thick length. You almost feel like you might pass out, utterly light headed, cumming not in spite of the stretch but because of it. Fuck, Yanagi might just have ruined you for any other alpha. You feel your slick spray out and coat your thighs despite the knot buried inside you, and you make a noise between a moan and a sob as your orgasm rips through you viciously. Yanagi rocks and grunts behind you, riding that knife’s edge of stimulation until she’s tipping off of it herself, releasing your hips in favor of bracing herself over you, palms bracketing your head as she spills into you with a stifled, drawn out groan. You feel her throb inside you, pulsing with each jet of cum she deposits into your eager cunt. You can’t help but preen at the sensation of being filled so thoroughly, which Yanagi returns with a low, soothing croon.

She makes sure to lie on her side to recover, deceptively strong yet slim arms holding you close. It’s a welcome reprieve from the many alphas who would simply flop on top of you and crush you into the mattress, and you make a pleased noise, your brain buzzing with happy, satiated chemicals. Her cosy scent just makes you relax further, sweet honey on fresh toast, like home, and you find your eyelids drooping. Yanagi notices, and a lilting, melodic laugh resonates through the Mask.

“Rest,” she says gently, a hand caressing your side, “you did well.”

You have some time to kill anyway, knotted together as you both are. So you take her suggestion, and drift off into a satisfied slumber. What happens next is for your heat-free brain to deal with, but you’re certain of at least one thing: you’re not spending your next heat with anyone other than her.

When you wake, you wake woefully bereft.

Your thighs are parted, and you hiss when something wet and cold touches your skin. You blink open your eyes blearily, and find Yanagi looking down at you from where she kneels by your side, running a washcloth along your inner thigh. Her Mask is off, set on the bedside table now that both of you are somewhat stable enough to head back home and weather the rest of your respective heat and ruts privately. Her lips are curved into a small, glossy smile, and a pair of red-rimmed glasses rest delicately on the bridge of her nose.

“Did you rest well?” she asks, smoothing the washcloth down your other thigh. “I hope you don’t mind that I took some initiative. I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable or sticky when waking up.”

It takes you a while to find your voice, but when you do find it, it’s utterly wrecked. Yanagi flushes slightly at the sound when you speak, looking ridiculously cute for someone who just gave you the most intense orgasm of your life.

“Yes to the first, no to the second,” you answer, pushing yourself up onto your elbows. “I appreciate it. Thank you.”

Yanagi’s smile broadens, and she shakes her head lightly. “I should be thanking you—my rut hit early out of nowhere, and if you weren’t willing…”

“I could say the same for you,” you rasp wryly, watching as she diligently cleans you. She takes care not to give too much stimulation to your sensitive sex, but makes sure to clean up the remaining drops of her cum that still leak from you. “I guess we both got lucky.”

“Quite,” Yanagi agrees, and you see her throat bob as she tries not to focus on the way her seed drips out of your cunt. “In any case, you were… very helpful. Thank you.”

You manage a dry chuckle at that. What a polite alpha. “You weren’t too bad yourself.”

The flush on her cheeks deepens ever so slightly, and she ducks her gaze away from yours, almost bashful. She sets the cloth down on a disposal bin on the bedside table, then turns to grab something further down the bed. A surprised noise leaves your lips when you see what it is: your clothing, all neatly folded. And if your nose is telling you the truth—

“I… took the liberty to scent your shirt,” she admits, still not meeting your eyes. “Just to tide you over until you make it home. It should deter any other alphas from trying anything.”

You swallow, throat suddenly dry. You wonder if you’re dreaming—do alphas this nice really exist? You’ve met your fair share of decent alphas, but they all have that typical alpha arrogance about them. If she hadn’t just knotted you, you might have thought she was an omega with how tender she’s being, and you find yourself thinking for the second time today how you could get so used to this.

“Thank you,” you say eventually. Yanagi nods, relieved, then rises from the bed. She’s already clothed; although, she didn’t take much of her clothes off while fucking you in the first place, just popping a few buttons of her shirt and hiking her skirt up enough to get it out of the way after ditching her corset. She fixes the tassels of her tie, ready to head out the door, and the words blurt out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“Do you want to do this again?”

Your jaw clicks shut as soon as Yanagi stills, turning to face you with a puzzled look on her face. She blinks, brows furrowing as she considers your words. “This… again?”

“There’s an option for, uh— scheduled sessions between an alpha and an omega, if they choose,” you explain, trying not to sound as nervous as you feel. “It saves on hoping for another presentation to be available when your heat or rut rolls around.”

“I’ve heard of that,” Yanagi hums, eyes drifting to the side as she takes a moment to consider.

“It’d be convenient,” you continue, unable to help yourself from pressing a little more. If you sound desperate, you can’t be bothered to be ashamed. You’d rather lose your dignity than this damn perfect alpha before you. “And you’re someone who likes convenience and routine, right?”

Yanagi raises a brow. “How did you figure that?”

“Well,” you shrug, attempting nonchalance, “I suppose it was a lucky guess. How did you know I liked being praised?”

Yanagi turns beet red at that, a palm shooting up to cover half her face. Even her ears are a delicate blush colour. “It just… felt right,” she mumbles, her home-like scent thick with embarrassment. You chuckle softly at that.

“See? I think this could be mutually beneficial, Yanagi. What do you say?”

The time it takes her to think feels like it stretches on forever. You can almost see the gears on her head turning, analysing, as if weighing the costs and benefits over every last detail of your proposal. Those pink eyes gleam with an intensity you can’t help but feel drawn to in a way you’ve never felt before with any alpha. Eventually, she turns back to you with a small, polite smile.

“We could give it a shot.”

You grin, feeling relief flood your system so strongly you nearly fall back onto the bed. “Sounds great. I’ll see you next month, then?”

“Next month,” Yanagi returns, and then she slips out the door with the click of heels on cold tile. You flop back onto the pillows when the door closes, unable to stifle a giddy, girlish laugh from spilling from your lips.

God, for once in your life, you can’t wait for your next heat.

[paceprompting]

almost there

written for ‘icy roads’ | wc: 991 # | steddie | rated: t | cw: no warnings apply | tags: established relationship, alpha steve harrington, beta eddie munson, mention of steve's rut

@steddieholidaydrabbles

Holy shit, he was driving the Beemer.

He was driving Steve’s car.

In the dark, in the snow, on a road were he couldn’t tell what was asphalt and what might be black ice. The headlights were better than ones on his van, but he was also half-distracted by Steve in the passenger seat.

Panting, hands dug into the leather of his seat, and sweat lining his hairline. He’d stripped off his jacket before getting inside, but it did little to ease the rut thrumming its way through his veins.

Steve’s body heat warmed up the inside of the car practically by itself. Eddie could feel it radiating on the side of his face—Steve’s need, his want. He’d had to try very hard not to stare at Steve tenting his jeans as they rushed out of the bar to head home. Or as Eddie tried to keep the car in a straight line.

Wayne wasn’t an alpha, most people in his family weren’t, so Eddie hadn’t seen the signs. Steve scenting Eddie, his clothes, at every opportunity and not just when he wanted to be cute. Wearing less layers even in the middle of winter because his body was working overtime to get itself ready.

For four days where Steve would be half out of his normal mind, following instinct, following want. He knew he wasn’t built for it, not for what Steve needed—even if he had managed to take his knot before. When they could go slow, and Eddie wouldn’t drive Steve mad having to wait and prep and take breaks.

Eddie tapped his fingers on the wheel, trying not to let the sounds of Steve’s soft moaning get to him as much as it was. “Steve, are you sure you don’t want someone else. It’s not a big deal, I swear—shit!”

The car swerved a bit on the road, the smallest patch of ice under the tire. Just enough to lose control for a second, Eddie pumping the breaks slow despite how fast his heart was beating.

“No,” Steve gasped, hardly caring about Eddie’s panic. “Just you.”

Steve hadn’t had a rut since they got together. Given a biological break, alphas only had to deal with it twice a year, and almost like a belated six-month anniversary present, Steve was running headlong into his.

But Eddie was…he was a beta.

And it was all fine and dandy the rest of the time. Eddie was usually neutral to the hormonal nonsense. He could smell Steve when he didn’t wear cologne or when he’d been out of the shower for a while—sage and something like fresh woods in rain.

Steve said he smelled mostly like citrus and cinnamon.

They hit the streetlights of the main road through town, but Eddie didn’t feel relieved. Sure, right now, when Steve was just Steve, and Eddie could be everything he needed. Then, they’d be two days into it and Eddie would need a break because he was just a beta, and Steve’s alpha would suffer.

“Eddie,” Steve panted, his hand scrabbling for Eddie’s arm.

He gave Steve his hand, figuring they were close enough to the house to risk driving one-handed. Just a few turns, otherwise a straight line.

“We’re almost there,” he said.

“God, I hope so,” Steve muttered, his other hand rubbing himself through his jeans.

Eddie was glad, in that moment, that he couldn’t smell Steve’s arousal as well as an alpha or an omega. Otherwise, he’d have pulled the car overlong before he slammed the car into park in Steve’s driveway. He would have let them stay in the car when Steve unbuckled his seatbelt and crossed over the center console to press a hard kiss onto Eddie’s mouth.

“Steve, Steve,” Eddie gasped through frantic kisses. “Let’s get inside. Your own bed. Someone’s going to see us out here.”

Steve growled deep in his chest, hands digging into Eddie’s sides. He must have been holding off until they reached the house, nonverbal as he unbuckled Eddie’s seatbelt for him and then opened the driver’s door. He wasn’t yet to the point of climbing out after Eddie, but as soon as the front door closed behind him, Steve pushed Eddie against it.

He stuck his nose into the hollow of Eddie’s throat, inhaling deeply. Eddie shivered, carding his hand into the thickest part of Steve’s hair and let Steve have his fill.

“Want you, Eddie.”

He thought about being selfish and following Steve upstairs to his bedroom. Where they’d make a nest from Steve’s closet, the drawer Eddie kept at the house, and the comforter they shared every night. And it would be nothing but Eddie and Steve until the rut ended.

He deserved better than that.

“Steve, I’m not enough.” Eddie tried to squirm away, his chest aching at the thought of leaving Steve alone to call someone who could help him. Who wouldn’t be worn out halfway through, no matter how much Eddie would want to keep going.

Steve grumbled, dragging his nose up Eddie’s jaw and pressing it against his cheek. In a low voice, he said, “How many times have you told me that all that designation stuff is bullshit?”

To a point, Eddie wanted to say. All the grandstanding alpha or submissive omega roles were bullshit, but it was a hell of a lot easier to help an alpha through a rut as an omega. It just was.

“I don’t need an omega just because.” Steve held Eddie tight, breathing in his scent as Eddie rubbed gently at his scalp. “Please, I want you to be here.”

Eddie closed his eyes, breathing in time with Steve. Steve was pushing it trying to hold off his rut for much longer, and Eddie couldn’t ignore what they both wanted. Steve had never cared that he was a beta.

He only wanted Eddie.

Eddie eased Steve’s head up, pressing their foreheads together, and said, “I’ll stay, Steve. I’ll stay.”

[honeykaes]

the mashup

punkrocker!wriothesley x reader II 2.7k

warning: smut, 18+ content, minors do not interact, afab!reader with no set pronouns, music! au, modern au, punkrocker!wriothesley, r&b!singer!reader, semi-public sex, consensual filming, creamipes, fingering, riding, piercings, unedited

synopsis: your record label insists that the next phase of your career needs to require you to branch out to other genres and collaborate with an artist. After a long time of searching, to your surprise a punk rocker seems interested not only in the music, but yourself too.

Music is an avenue of expression, at least that’s what you always told yourself. You always felt yourself escaping into the vibrations and notes, amplifying your emotions and imagination as easily as putting two earbuds in.

There were many genres to which people escaped, and yours was the slow, sultry tones of R&B. With its elements of pop, gospel, blues, and jazz with a strong backbeat, you found yourself as one of the top performers in the genre. Your name was associated with the top streamers of Spotify and Apple Music. You even had trending songs on TikTok, people would dance or lip-sync too.

As a child, you never imagined the pitchy singing of your idols would bring you here among the hottest stars.

Despite the success, your record label was craving something different from you—eager to break into the “next phase of your career”, or so they say. They insisted you branch out into new genres and collaborate with some trending artists to give you a push towards winning a Grammy.

You were naturally hesitant, wanting to stay true to your craft and tune but their silvery words and promises of popularity caused your position to falter. Still, you wouldn’t just be collaborating with anyone your managers would send your way, you’d make sure of that.

The first one your label brought to your attention was Childe, a popular alternative singer from Russia. He was making waves in the Western market. His music was…alright and his personality was okay. Something about him irked you though, so you ended up passing on that opportunity to your label's dismay.

The second person they introduced you to was a pop singer by the name of Focalars. Furina was her real name though and she was as eccentric as ever. She was a bit vain and her slight condescension tried your patience a little too much, so you ended up passing on that opportunity as well.

Finally to your shock, a punk rocker reached out about a collaboration. No one would imagine R&B and Punk Rock could mess well, yet his label insisted otherwise. You recognized the name before, Wriothesley. He had been away from the spotlight for a while, only having small shows in London after an incident.

You heard he had punched out some hotshot producer for creeping on his subordinates at a party one night. Wriothesley ended up getting blacklisted for a while as a result. You weren’t sure why he was blacklisted, the creep Wriothesley punched out had it coming, but you knew the music industry was the music industry. Perhaps people were fearful that other cockroaches like that producer would get squashed by Wriothelesy as well.

Nevertheless, his label team things with your image and reputation could help mitigate his own in the community. 

When you first met Wriothelsey was interesting as well. Your labels had just finished the contracts, agreeing to a collaboration between your team and his. He would be singing a cover of one of your popular songs; ”everyone loves a rock cover”, your manager said. 

In addition, the two of you will be working on a new song for an upcoming film, your labels salivating at the thought of getting a Grammy and Oscar nomination.

Needing a break from the paperwork and discussing business, you headed out to the balcony to get some fresh air only to see him smoking there instead. His ears were decorated in silver piercings and a hoop loomed on his bottom lip. He took a drag out of his cigarette, letting the smoke blow out and dissipate in the cool air.

His eyes seemed tired, but his icy irises locked onto your own as he began to cough in surprise. He balled his fist up hitting his chest, to try to help him breathe as he tried to sputter apologies.

“Sorry there, I didn’t see you. I try to make it a habit for people not to catch me indulging in my vices,” he chuckled, still coughing from his surprise. You softly chuckled as well, walking up to him to admire the skyline. London was as gloomy as ever, and it seemed you would be remaining here for the time being.

“I didn’t think you were much of a smoker,” you hummed. The man playfully rolled his eyes, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and looking at it. His gaze seemed nostalgic admiring the soft ambers of one end of the rolled nicotine.

” It was a bit of a bad habit when I was younger. I usually just drink a cuppa’ whenever I get a craving but didn’t have an opportunity to so I caved,” he admitted. He threw the cigarette on the ground, stomping it out with his large black combat boots tied up in yellow and purple laces. You chuckled and nodded.

“I get it. No judgment here. Had to stop drinking coffee for a while. One day I drank about 4 drinks and could see my hand shaking when I was trying to write lyrics. Told myself to never get that far again,” you recalled. Wriothesley let out a hearty laugh at your story.

“See, we all got our vices,” he replied.

There was a soft pause between you two as you two looked at the towering buildings below you. The smell of rain on asphalt was prevalent. It must’ve been raining earlier when you were in your meeting, finalizing the collaboration. 

“I’m curious, why did you specifically ask to collaborate with me? Your managers at the meeting informed me that it wasn’t just their idea but yours,” you asked. Wriothesley simply shrugged before lifting his arms nonchalantly as he placed his hands on his jet-black hair with gray streaks. 

”I like your music, what can I say,” Wriothesley replied. You quirk your eyebrow in confusion. Why on earth would someone like him enjoy music from you? Wriothesley must’ve sensed your confusion before a lazy smirk made its way onto his pale face.

“What? Do you think I only listen to one specific genre? Should never judge a book by its cover” he murmured, tutting. You bit your lip, gaze darting from him in slight embarrassment. It was true. You didn’t only listen to R&B after all, you enjoyed a plethora of genres regardless of if it was the genre of music you made yourself.

”Besides, I see all the time people taking different genres and finding a way to mesh them together,” he added. Wriothesley moved so his back rested on the balcony as he crossed his arms and a more genuine smile fell.

“It would be an honor to do that with someone’s music I admire,” he finished.

Recording soon began after that. It was always interesting to see his fingers glide along his electric guitar, strumming and musing as if he were on another plane of existence. He would often flash you winks at these sessions. Banter turned to flirting to the point rumors began circulating in the office, but the two of you didn’t care. It was fun having him in your life and hard to fight off the smile whenever his callous hands would brush against yours when he got the chance.

A few months passed and it was finally time for the last recording session. As everyone left the studio for the night, you decided to stay back to fine-tune things on your end until you felt satisfied yourself. When you walked out, you noticed Wriothesley sitting on the couch. He was scrolling on his phone and looked up, hearing the heavy door of the recording studio open and close.

“Seems you finally got out. Took you long enough, love. I did want to celebrate with you,” he mused as he rose from the couch. You couldn’t fight the smile creeping on your lips seeing his presence right in front of you.

“Celebrate what exactly? Done being in this stuffy room together for now,” you retorted. Wriothesley simply smirked and shrugged.

“Perhaps I could take you to a pub and celebrate that way. Get a few drinks, I can show you the sights of London before you jet back to LA tomorrow,” he suggested. You took a sigh. You truly weren’t in the mood to socialize in a dark tavern tonight. 

“I don’t know about that….Why? Are you trying to take me out on a date?” you chimed back. Wriothesley chuckled and walked closer to you. 

”Maybe. Think I can be lucky enough?” he asks, hands reaching up for their chin. Your eyes widened slightly, shocked at his nonchalant confession before your expression softened. Your hands reach up, placing themselves on his firm chest. 

“We can always celebrate here…too…y’know…” you suggested. Wriothesley expressions darkened, a grin forming on his face. His hand left your chin, making its way towards your waist to bring you in closer to him.

”Didn’t think someone with a reputation like yours would be so naughty,” he hummed, deep in your ear.

”Don’t judge a book by its cover, I think you were the one who said that, no?” you retorted. 

Wriothesley leaned down, capturing your lips. His lips were sweet, tasting faintly of chapstick he must’ve applied earlier. His hands wandered up and down the curves of your body as the two of you made wait onto the couch.

As your form plopped down on the expensive leather couch, Wriothesley crawled on top of you. His hand cupped your clothed cunt, watching you grind onto his hand desperate to get any bit of friction you could. He sucked his caine as he smiled at the scene before letting his hand dip between the waistband on your pants and cup your now bare cunt.

“Already drooling for me…” he murmured, fondling your soft cunt. You rolled your hips, whining as his fingers brushed against your clit. Growing impatient, Wriothelesy, took his hand out before tugging on the waistband of your pants, bringing them and your panties down with it. Your bottoms were thrown aside on the rug, shielding itself from falling on the cool tile ground.

His icy eyes finally gazed at your cunt bare to him. He pressed his finger against one of your puffy folds, pushing it to the side to spread you out further and watching your hole convulse at the mere thought of having him inside of you. 

Clicking his tongue is satisfaction, he slowly sinks his finger inside of you. You whined, feeling the cool touch of his silver rings decorating his fingers as he slowly pumped them. His other hand goes beneath your shirt, moving towards the valley of your breasts.

He grabbed a mound—rolling your pebbling nipple with the side of his thumb while his lips pressed against your neck—nipping and sucking the sensitive skin. His fingers curled as he continued to thrust while the calloused pad of his thumb massaged your clit.

You writhe under his touch, soft moans falling from your lips. He shifted, his hips slightly bucking as his own erection pressed in his tight pants satisfied by the music falling from your mouth. His fingers drilled inside of you faster as the sloshes and lewd noises of your cunt echoed in the room. 

“That’s it…that’s it…you’re almost there, love. C’mon and give me a show,” Wriothesley grunted. A loud moan is ripped from you as you throw your head back. Your body twitched trying to come down from your high as Wriothesley whistled in amused, satisfied by the way your cunt squeezed and pulsated on his fingers. He dug his free hand into his jeans pockets, revealing his phone.

“Mind if I memorialize this,” he asked, flashing his phone to your tired gaze. You furrowed your eyebrows but whined feeling him pump his fingers slowly in your overly sensitive hole. 

“...If you show anyone and I mean anyone, Wriothesley—” you threatened albeit agreed. Wriothesley chuckled, moving to click on the camera app.

“And risk losing a person like you? Never. Besides, I don’t like the idea of anyone else seeing you like this…whining and crying just on my fingers. Y’know if you made a face like that then I wonder how you’ll look with my cock inside of you, hm?”

Wriothesley began recording as he continued to slowly pump his fingers inside of you before slowly dipping them off. He chuckled, admiring his digits coated in your slick before smacking down your clit as you jolted. You scoffed and grabbed his phone, filming the camera in his direction. 

”Well then why don’t you also give me a show,” you suggested, quirking an eyebrow up with an amused expression. Wriothesley chuckled and nodded. He slowly took his shirt off revealing his fit form, tattoos adorned his arms. His nipples were flushed and pierced as well.

”My eyes are up here, love,” he joked. You fought the urge to roll your eyes before you shifted the camera towards his crotch. He played with the waistband of his pants before slowly letting them fall, his cock immediately smacking to his lower stomach, pulsating eagerly.

He pumped his cock a few times, you could see precum budding at the tip along with his Prince Albert piercing. His moans are light and airy, clearly teasing you as you rub your thighs together.

He leaned over and claimed your lips as he grabbed the phone from you. His tongue dragged against your bottom lip as you moaned in the kiss. He shifted you on top of him so that he was lounging in the chair instead. You could feel how hard and thick he was as his cock pressed against your leg

”Well then, I can’t do all the work…Why don’t you go ahead and take a seat” he suggested, patting his upper thigh. You took their shirt off, hovering above their cock. You grabbed onto his member as Wriothesley sucked a breath in before you slowly sank down it.

As you slowly moved down on it, you could feel how much he was stretching you out. The dull burn as you inched closer was getting to you. Wriothesley offered a sympathetic smile reaching out with one hand to rub your clit to encourage you to sink down further. Although it was a tight fit, you eventually bottomed out. Your body shuttered feeling the foreign coolness of his piercing pressed against your gummy walls. 

His hand eventually leaves your clit before trailing towards your thighs and resting on your ass, where he gives it a tender squeeze.

”Don’t keep me waiting, lovely,” he cooed. With a grunt, you slid up before sliding back down continuously, pressing your hands against his chest as you bounced on his cock. Wriothesley bit his lip, zooming in as he reached out to fondle your tits before drifting the camera back down to where his cock was disappearing inside of you.

He could feel how tight you were, etching him to reach deeper inside. He starts to thrust up causing you to moan. You weave your own hand down to play with your sensitive clit to get more friction.

Wriothesley clicked his tongue noticing, before throwing his phone on the ground without a care. His large palms grabbed onto the globes of your ass before his pace grew faster. You could barely think as he pistoned himself inside of you, legs quivering as you didn’t bounce on him anymore.

His cock continuously hit that sweet spot inside of you as you shifted and gyrated your hips— drool dripping from your lips. You rub tight circles on your clit faster.

“There! There! There!!” you yelped out. Your back arched, as your eyes rolled to the back of your head finally reaching your high. Wriothesley grunted nails harpooned in the plush of your ass as his lower half bucks up, spilling cum inside of you. 

He continued to thrust inside of you, pushing it deeper while he groaned. Your voice quivered, feeling his warmth completely coat you as thick globs of cum smeared on your folds and thighs. You let your upper half lean down to rest as Wriothesley patted your ass gently, red from how tight he was clinging onto it.

His lips pressed against your shoulders for a tender kiss, heavy pants echoing in the recording studio.

“This’ll be a night to remember…” Wriothsley chuckled before kissing your sweaty forehead. His gaze softened at your tired panting one.

“I say it’s a good thing we will be working quite closely together for the upcoming year, wouldn’t you say, love?”

[acerathia]

efflorescence || Qi Yu | Rafayel

Summary:

During a walk, you both encounter a Wanderer. One easily defeated, yet its attacks have a lasting impact. There's only one way to solve this...

Wordcount: 3.5k

Read on AO3

Pairing:

Qí Yù | Rafayel / Reader | MC

Tags/CW:

Minors and Ageless Blogs DNI!! pwp, aphrosidiacs (by accident lol), finger sucking, breast sucking, cunnilingus, orgasm denial, overstimulation, begging (just a tiny bit), orgasm without touch, marking, body worship (implied), making out, both being brats lowkeyy, piv, cockwarming, and ofc, filled with love waow

Note:

literally don't talk to me 🚬🚬

With a controlled swing, you get off your motorcycle, having parked it just at the gate, a couple steps away from the door. There’s barely any time for you to store your helmet away, before the door clicks open and a shadow falls upon you with almost silent steps.

“A wonderful day, isn’t it, Miss Bodyguard?” a familiar voice sounds, and you immediately turn around to be welcomed in a warm hug.

Rafayel leans closer to you to give you a soft peck, having missed you terribly. And so, he’s reluctant to let go of you, but you manage to wiggle yourself out of his grasp (not that the resistance was big to begin with), but keeping your fingers interlocked.

Raising his hand to your mouth, you kiss his knuckles, and giggle as his ears tint in a delicate hue of red. “Every day is a wonderful day in your presence, Mr. Rafayel. Shall we?”

“There’s no need to lay it that thick, is there?” A pout pulls on his lush lips, but he doesn’t pull his hand away or refuse your suggestion to finally go on that promised walk together.

You only grin. With a couple of steps, you both easily find the all-too-familiar pace, walking side by side over the path winding through the scrubs and bushes. And even with the way you’re used to each other, it continuously feels like a tug of war, your eyes glancing at the other, mesmerized by each other's mere existence, yet resisting that silent pull, no matter how much you want to gravitate towards each other. This time is supposed to be spent doing something outside, to take a fresh breath of wind, especially with Rafayel staying inside for days at a time with his inspiration occupying his everyday life.

Yet, this time of quality, shall too be interrupted sooner than later, as a wanderer seemingly appears out of nowhere. Immediately, you pull out your weapon of choice, Rafayel with his swift daggers by your side. This shouldn’t take long to resolve, you think to yourself.

A gust of air fans over your face as Rafayel lands gracefully on his feet, having dealt the defeating blow on that stray Wanderer. It had surprised you both on your walk through the outskirts of town. But despite this slight advantage, it was nothing for you and Rafayel to defeat. There was a familiar coordination between you, an ebb and flow, as intimate as the waves that meet the edge of land with every sway. A dance between lovers, tension within your bodies as each strike moves with the beat of something only you two can hear ( – your heartbeats, synching up with every glance at each other, pupils expanding).

You step next to him, your bodies barely apart, as you watch as the Wanderer slowly begins to crumble. And normally, this would mean its death. But before any of you can react, it moves abruptly, an attack shooting out of its body, using its last life force to deal damage to the beings it hates the most. The light reaches Rafayel’s body before any of you can react, and you shout his name, your voice cracking as you reach out to him. He stumbles, his hands pressing against his chest, a groan vibrating too loudly underneath your skin.

Considering the proximity between you, it didn’t take long until your hands meet his, adding to the pressure he’s putting on his wound, trying to keep the aftermath to a minimum. You’re scanning his face, the way a flush has begun to rise to his face, eyebrows drawn together in a frown, an expression so similar to one of pain and confusion. His eyes seem to be glossing over, barely able to focus on you. Even after you tried to talk to him, trying to get him to tell you about how he’s feeling, you avoid looking at the wounded place directly. Until you do. And you’re expecting bright colors, wetness, a nauseating smell. But none of these appeared.

You frown, blinking a couple of times, even closing the distance to his torso. And there’s nothing. No gaping wound, not even a speck of dirt is marring his soft button-up shirt. Still, you keep your hands on his, even if you’re lessening the pressure. Once again looking up to Rafayel, his gaze seems to be on you, but almost like thoughts you cannot dare follow are swirling in his gem-like eyes. The flush is deepening, covering his neck in heat, and you can’t deny that his skin feels too hot to the touch. Hotter than the usual instances you’ve grown to know. But you suppose that the usual methods might still be of help.

So, you tuck your arm over his back and under his arm as you support Rafayel all the way back to his home. Luckily, despite staggering a few times, he seems to be pretty stable otherwise. But even if he did collapse, you’re confident in your abilities to carry him if necessary.

This way, it takes you some time to finally arrive, but once you do, you let him rest onto his couch, carefully propping him up, to avoid him keeling over at any moment. Once you have made sure Rafayel is still alright, you straighten up to head towards the bath, planning on preparing him something to cool down with. But before you could even take a step away, he’s grabbing you by the wrist.

“Don’t go… Don’t leave me…” he murmurs as he brings your hand closer to his face, his breath warm against the tips of your fingers, lips barely a distance away.

A gasp lodges itself in your throat, and you can’t help but push your fingers onto his plush lips, pressing ever so slightly against them, his teeth scraping against your fingertips. Your breath quickens a tad, but you snap out of it.

“Fine, but Rafayel, we need to do something about this weird fever…”

For a moment he just looks at you from between his eyelashes, his once bright eyes taking a darker shade. Instead of answering, Rafayel pulls you closer to himself, only to trap you between his hot body and the soft give of the couch as he flips his body over. You gasp.

His lips are hovering over yours. “I am doing something about it…” he murmurs, a kiss meeting the corners of your open mouth.

His hands grab your waist, slender fingers tracing the edge of your shirt, hot skin against warm skin. Your own hands grab his neck, his hair, reaching for a kiss, yet his lips avoid yours as Rafayel continues to let his mouth travel. Your cheeks, your jaw, the soft spot underneath your ear. Immediately, he latches onto the sensitive skin, letting his tongue glide over it, almost like he’s tasting you, like he’s having an appetizer, as he nibbles and caresses.

A whimper escapes you when he slips his hand underneath the clothes covering your flushing skin, fingertips tracing unknown ways like an artist letting the brushstrokes speak his mind and emotions. You barely notice that he has pushed your shirt up until you feel the cold air against your chest as he’s tugging your brassiere to reveal your hardening nipples.

Rafayel looks up to you as he kisses your collarbone, teasing the soft skin with his teeth until he latches at your chest, his tongue snug against your skin, teeth catching on your nipple before he starts sucking on it. His hand has found your other nipple, fingertips gliding in circles over it, touch so feather-light.

Your body subconsciously presses itself closer to him. “W-wait–,” you stop the moment you notice him straining in his pants, even without any effort on your part. And the realization dawns on you. Licking your lips, you lock eyes with him, feeling your chest heave as the mere thought gets you worked up. “I suppose, this is a way to solve this…”

A chuckle. “Have you just noticed my true predicament, my love? I thought we were supposed to be lovers, soulmates even. I’m hurt,” Rafayel murmurs as he nuzzles into your chest, breath hot against your skin. Yet, he pushes himself against you, allowing you to feel him fully and truly, even if behind a barrier you have to overcome.

A wave of heat washes over you, making your thoughts swirl in a pool of need and desire. You trace his eyebrows with your fingertips, admiring the softness of his expression, of his features. You let your touch wander over his nose, his cheeks, almost like you’re trying to memorize a sculpture solely with your touch. And once again, your fingers find his lips and he kisses them oh so softly. After allowing him to spread kisses over your knuckles, you press against his mouth, pulling slightly on his lips, letting your pads press against his teeth.

Immediately you feel a sting as Rafayel puts pressure onto your skin, letting his teeth catch on it, allowing his tongue to lap over the tiny mark left behind, as if to console you. And you thought that might be it, but before you could pull your hand away to let it wander, his lips cover the tip of your finger. His tongue swivels around it, tasting you, sucking on your digit as if to extract more and more of you than you had thought possible. Slowly, Rafayel works your finger deeper into his mouth and you can’t help but let your pad run over his molars, marveling at their structure. You might imagine it, but it feels like his teeth are sharper than they're supposed to be.

But you barely had the chance to think about it, as sudden pressure and a sting surprises you. As it turns out, Rafayel has taken the liberty of biting down on the base of your finger. This time strong enough to not only leave marks, but to develop some coloration later on.

He looks at you, his tongue slipping into the space between your fingers, and you shiver. A slight smile is grazing his face, yet his eyes tell another story. They look at you like Rafayel wants to devour you, to possess you, to cradle you close to him, shielding you from everything else, forever.

Only after making sure that the mark is going to last for some time, he pulls his head away. He kisses your palm, tongue gliding over it, wet and messy. Once Rafayel arrives at your wrist, he once again digs his canines into your skin, and this time a whimper slips from between your lips.

This seems to spur him on, as he lets go of your arm, only to dive right back to your chest, finding the sensitive spots and biting on them. Everytime you feel the pinch, you feel yourself tense up, heat flowing through your veins. And with your hands now free, you let them discover every inch of him in your reach. Your nails scratch at the back of his neck, over his shoulders to finally grasp the buttons holding the smooth shirt together. Barely reaching the end of it, you were tempted multiple times to simply ripping it open, but you know how much he cares for his clothes, so you exercise restraint.

Once he’s laid bare before you, you let your eyes enjoy the sight for a moment, watching the muscles tense and move. You let your fingers travel over his throat to his chest, feeling the firmness barely hidden underneath his everyday clothes.

“Well, you seem more surprised than you should. Maybe I should show you this more often, don’t you think, cutie? Do you want to see me strip for you? Put on a show just for you?” Rafayel teases you with a cock of his head.

“Well, I surely wouldn’t mind that,” you grin, grabbing his chin and pushing his head to look at you.

His eyes lock onto your lips, darkening with each moment, and you can’t help but plunge towards him, diving to catch his lips with yours. To let your tongue dance with his, teeth scraping, pulse racing. You feel his hips push against yours, his bulge close to where you want, need him to be. Just this simple contact makes you clench around nothing and you hiss, biting down on his lip.

This creates some distance between you, but he doesn’t seem bothered by the bite, rather, the desire in his eyes swirl and take as much of you in as possible. And instead of kissing you again, Rafayel sinks towards your torso, kissing the peaks of your breasts, their underside, and continues to spread open-mouthed kisses over your stomach. Reaching the band of your pants, he tugs them down, looking up to you while doing so.

“W-wait, shouldn’t we take care of you first?” you gasp, his lips kissing the juncture between your hips and legs. Despite your protests, you grab his hair, as if on instinct.

At your protest, he nuzzles your thigh. “My love, I need to drown in you to breathe…” His words hot against your skin, a warning before he bites down onto the soft flesh.

You curse, your complaints dissolving as he kisses you through your underwear, feeling hotter and hotter, burning in the flame he seems to be confident in handling.

“And drown I will.”

Rafayel lets his tongue run over the soaked cloth, letting a groan vibrate against you the moment he tastes you. He takes his time, sucking and licking your clit, savoring the taste in his mouth. His hands have grabbed your thighs to hold you in place, as you have begun to buck your hips towards him, needing more and more of him. At some point you end up with your legs crossed behind his head, trying to press him closer and closer. But he doesn’t let himself get hurried by anything, not even your moaned complaints.

“Fuck, Rafayel, c’mon– this sucks–,” you groan, narrowing your eyes as you struggle to keep looking at him.

A huff cools the wet cloth, and you shiver. “So you want me to stop?” he asks, looking up to you, making eye contact with a challenging glint in his eyes.

You whine. “Fuck you, too.”

“With pleasure,” he grins, watching you as he pulls your underwear to the side, revealing your core and throbbing clit.

Another breeze hits your heat and you curse. Soon his tongue meets your clit again and he barely applies any pressure, just letting it glide over it over and over again. This deprivation is driving you insane and you start begging for more.

“Please, just a bit more–,” you whimper, trying to buck your hips, but his grasp is firm.

Despite your pleas, Rafayel doesn’t concede. Rather he begins to avoid your clit, letting his tongue run at its sides, through your folds, teasing your entrance with the tip. This only gets you more worked up, and you start pulling on his hair. Frustration is building up and you need to experience more, to experience some relief.

Only slowly does he return to your needy clit, pressure building up until he’s sucking and flattening his tongue against it. His own moans vibrate through you, getting you hotter and hotter. The built up he has worked into you, begins to tighten with each touch of his, with each time you glance back at him and see him watching your every reaction. Until everything unravels.

Everything in you goes slack as you throw your head back, moaning. “Ah, fuck, Rafayel.”

Even with your climax, he does not let up, letting his tongue lick everything you spill with meticulousness, with eagerness and desire. Your sensitive clit aches and you feel yourself tense once again, still feeling the high of your release, and steadily working towards another one. You pull at his hair, trying to get Rafayel to slow down, still feeling tender.

And only after making sure he has gotten every last drop, does he crawl back to you, littering your body in kisses and bites, making sure to not miss a single spot free of his markings.

Immediately, you reach for Rafayel, pulling him into a kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue. Your hand caresses his shoulders, dragging your nails across them and over his back. At the small of his back, you let your hand grab his butt, groping it, pushing him closer to yourself. Only to feel his length against your thigh. Eager to get your hands on him, your fingers wander underneath the waistband of his pants. To discover wetness spread over the cloth.

Before you could get the chance to fully grab him, he seizes your wrist, pulling your hand out of his pants. “Now, this isn’t what you’re supposed to do, yeah?”

“Hm, but I wanna help you…” you pout, trying to break free of his hold and sneak it back into his pants. Especially now that you know what mess he has made of himself simply by burying himself in you.

Instead of letting you go, he brings your hand to his face, nuzzling your palm, but not without licking the remnants on your fingertips. “Did you forget already? I’m aware of my skills to blow your mind away, buuut I’m in control here, cutie.”

At his words, you feel yourself clench around nothing, and simultaneously the need to get more. So, you raise your leg to press it between his thighs, just enough pressure to get Rafayel to moan for you. Such a pretty sound from his swollen lips, just for you to hear.

“Fine, show me control then,” you grin as you begin to rub your thigh against his length, your other hand sneaking down to rip his pants open and to shove them as far away as you can reach, taking his briefs with you on the way down.

“C’mon, pretty boy,” you coo, just a moment before he overwhelms you with a hot kiss, pressing himself as close as humanly possible, his tongue caressing the inside of your mouth, trying to get more and more.

As his moans reverberate inside you, you feel the tip of his cock pushing against your cunt, his hips buckling as he lets his length glide over your folds, teasing your swollen clit with each move of his, and you whimper against his lips. You lose count of how many times he just ruts against you, grinding against your sensitive spot over and over again. All you could do is try to get more and more by moving closer and closer towards him.

Breathless, Rafayel breaks away from you, a string of saliva still connecting you. “I wanna make you feel good…” he murmurs as he lets his head sink against your shoulder, kissing your skin softly.

Instead of answering you cup his face and bring him closer for another kiss. One filled with everything you cannot verbalize, with everything you keep inside your heart. And that’s when you feel it, feel him spreading you open oh so slowly, pushing himself deeper into your hole, the very one filled with desire with him. With careful movement, he fills you bit by bit as you moan his name.

This simple sound seems to spur him on, as his flow gets interrupted by a sudden thrust into you, hitting a spot in you at such an angle, you begin to see stars and you clench around him. All you could do is feel him in you, completing you with such ease.

For a moment, he just stays like this, hip to hip, both of you enjoying the feeling of closeness, of fulfillment, sharing kisses and whispers of promises like the depth of the sea. Until you begin to want more of him and roll your hips against his to get the slightest bit of friction. This elicits a moan of your name out of his mouth.

Soon, he finds a steady pace, one to hit your needs and wants. Meanwhile Rafayel has led his hand between you, letting his delicate fingertips stroke your clit, and the pressure inside of you begins to build up with each move of his, with each flick and caress. He knows you so well, what gets you going and what excites you, in control of everything you feel. So, it’s no wonder that you reach your climax in a short time, feeling the waves crash against you, overwhelming you with him and him and him.

“Ah, Rafayel!,” you moan, clutching his shoulders, digging your nails into them as you clench around him, keen on keeping him close to you.

As you tighten around him, he loses that delicate control he had over himself and his thrusts grow sloppy, moaning your name with desire and need. Until he releases, the tension flowing out of him as he buries himself deeper and deeper into you.

Slumping into your embrace, he sinks into your softness as everything in him mellows out and wraps his arms around your middle. Your hand finds his hair and you begin to scratch his scalp carefully, kissing his brow.

He begins to hum a familiar melody, and you close your eyes to simply listen to him. To enjoy the moment, this life you both have carved out of nothing, a warm flame slowly nurtured to blossom between you, a promise to last forever.

[loveandleases]

After quite a visit to urgent care, I was wondering who is fretting the most after Mc comes home from the hospital? Who tries to give them alone time? Who is hovering over like a mother, hen? Who has everything prepared and ready? Who is running to get whatever Mc asked for?

Ok, first off, are you okay?!

❤️ Cam – He will fret. You know the saying, “like a chicken with its head cut off”? That’s Cam. He’s constantly rushing around, making sure MC is comfortable and has everything they need. It’s one thing if he’s sick or hurt, but it’s something else entirely if MC is. Obviously, he won’t cook for MC—that would do more harm than good—but he’ll make sure to get some home-cooked meals from Em (that he can heat up in the microwave if needed).

Cam’s already clingy, so he’ll be just a bit more so when MC is sick, though he’ll also want to ensure they get plenty of rest. He’ll set up a spot for himself in a chair in the corner of the room—far enough that he thinks MC won’t get annoyed with his presence, but close enough to be there if they need him. (Of course, he’ll be in constant pout mode if MC mentions needing space, but he’ll respect it.)

💙G – A total mother hen. They will ensure that MC isn’t lifting a finger for anything. G has a comically large first aid kit and a medicine cabinet stocked with everything they think MC might need. While MC is resting, G takes care of everything else (plus makes sure MC gets a good, long nap). Food will be made fresh. By the end of it, MC will likely be tired of them, but G just wants to ensure they’re properly taken care of.

💚Kara – She isn’t the best when it comes to taking care of someone. Kara vividly remembers getting sick as a kid and how everyone fussed over her because she’s the baby of the family. Due to that she has the belief that people need space when they feel bad. She’ll put together a little care package for MC (complete with cookies she baked, despite refusing to believe she can’t bake good ones—it’s in everyone’s best interest if they’re tossed). She’ll also send over the family doctor a few times to make sure MC is okay, but otherwise, Kara will let MC relax and take it easy.

💛M – Oh, poor Mar is stressing. They've got a notepad full of notes of what the doctor had said. What MC needs, what they can and can't do. M still ends up making several trips to the pharmacy to grab everything they think MC might need.

They’re scatterbrained at the best of times, and this situation is no different. M ensures MC is well taken care of, with plenty of blankets, any necessary meds, and even a trashy movie to watch. For once, they refuse to work—honestly forgetting about some deadline and focusing entirely on MC. They even manage to get over three hours of sleep, which is a rarity for them. Regardless, M will keep on high alert until MC is fully better.

💜 Isaac – They're, but you’d never know it from how he masks it with humor and a flirty comment like, “You’re just trying to keep me around, aren’t you?” Still, Isaac can't help but hover, making sure MC has food (even if it’s takeout) and everything they need, while pretending it’s no big deal. Isaac isn’t one for overt emotional gestures early on , but they’ll do the small things—like leaving their favorite snacks or a blanket nearby—without drawing attention to it. Isaac will try to distract MC with jokes and funny movies, but deep down, seeing them vulnerable like this reminds them of losing their own mom. It leaves them feeling conflicted, somewhat guilty. Isaac will care for MC in their own way, even if he's terrified of getting too close.

🖤 Ardent – He’s on top of his game. Ardent will ensure that MC isn’t bothered by anyone, has a proper place to recuperate, and that the noise is kept to a minimum and the temperature just right. He’ll play it off like it’s problematic for him, but when he’s not looking, it’s easy to see the worry on his face. He’ll struggle with giving MC space while staying nearby when they need him. Ardent would even offer up his room for MC, letting Cam keep Cupid until MC is better. He tries to plan ahead and have everything MC might need. But if MC wants a specific type of candy that he doesn’t have, he’s gone in an instant. No room for discussion—just accept his help. (his niece will not let him live it down.)

[sojuyae]

i need you to PLEASE expand more on the bsd zombie apocalypse au

more so if its yan 👀

bsd apocalypse au

bsd ada various / reader

notes: mild yandere themes, zombie apocalypse thingies, NOT PROOFREAD sad face and teary-eyed emoji

-> your 'first' encounter with dazai is nothing short of terrible. your dull knife was pressed on his bandage-clad neck when he managed to sneak up on you. it's so easy to mistake dazai as a zombie when he looks so dead. dirty bandages adorning his arms and neck, dried blood sticking to his skin and clothes (not like you were better yourself) — had it not been the absence of rotting flesh and flesh (or the loud whine he had let out when your knife barely pressed on his throat,) you could've killed him.

the man took your hand in his with fervor, his eyes twinkling with cheer that does not suit a man like him. meeting him was terrifying enough, but him to ask you to join his group? utterly horrifying.

he didn't even give you a choice to decline.

if he had to be subjected in multiple earsplitting berations by a certain ideal donning co-detective for you to be accepted, there's no need for you to know. actually, he would let you know. he'd use it against you everytime you don't do something for him — you're complaining about having to go on a supply run in his stead because he's lazy? next thing you know he's letting out a scoff and telling you about the 'traumatic' scoldings of kunikida he had to endure just for you to be welcomed in the team.

-> dazai's words of 'persuasion' — if you could even call it that, rarely works. and you learned it the hard way. you watched timidly on the sidelines as dazai dismisses kunikida's reprimands and barrage of insults with a playful laugh, shrugging off any comments of how bringing any more people in the agency will only mean more mouth to feed and how 'kenji's appetite' is already worth 3 mouths.

despite kunikida's prior disapproval of you being an addition to the group, kunikida instantly — a little too instantly, warms up to you. in fact, when you were begrudgingly let into the team, he was the first to hand you a new and fresh set of clothing.

kunikida’s kindness and compassion warms your heart and it is often that you find yourself in his presence when something is troubling you. always able to lend his ear and provide some insight while he assigns the agenda.

kunikida proves himself as a reliable friend, so much so that you don’t know question how almost every supply run and night watch is spent alongside him.

-> if there was someone you were in favor of in the entirety of the agency aside from kunikida’s amazing diligence, you would’ve been sure yosano takes the crown.

she’s a formidable woman — always so quick to treat any wounded teammates. its almost a miracle how every single one that comes out of the infirmary looks better than ever, not a single sight of bandages and scars that would’ve littered their skin.

she is as quick to hound you in her empty infirmary whenever she manages to strike a deal with kunikida something about not being too ruthless when treating him? you don't know. she bemoans off your ears about how you’re always assigned to do some menial tasks with the others when you could be staying with her instead.

whenever you’re alone with her, you feel more of those large bear plushies you'd see displayed in malls more than anything — you're meant to stay still as she treats your lap as some kind of chair, your shoulder as a bed, and your stomach as some kind of pillow. her butterfly hairpin digging in your skin painfully while she rests her head on your shoulder.

-> when you met ranpo who was sat upon his desk, you thought he was very familiar — not because he was the self proclaimed greatest detective of all time that you kept hearing about before, but because you had a feud with him about this one last sweet remaining in of the aisle during the apocalypse. you won with a cheap trick that he surprisingly fell for; pointing at the air with a, 'look, there's more sweets!' and making a break for it.

by the looks of it, he didn't seem to forget about the incident, and it doesn't seem that he'll be forgiving you anytime soon too, with how sharp his glare is from across the room.

dealing with ranpo is tough. sending you in supply runs like the recent run wasn't just a day ago because he apparently ran out of sweets (then what are those in his desks????) always ordering you to bring him this and that as if he couldn't reach it with a stretch of an arm, even going as far as making you feed him because his hands were busy (they're literally just behind his head.) and skillfully ignoring the looks everyone in the agency gives him.

really, you should've let him have that sweet.

-> whenever you enter a room, your gaze automatically meets atsushi's. he would almost immediately stiffen under your stare and as if he was caught, would continue on his task without much of a word. the same routine would repeat over and over, you step inside a room, both of your eyes lock together, he resumes in what he's doing, looks back to see if you're staring, then he's back on wiping the same spot on window again and again.

your brain came up with the explanation that maybe, atsushi doesn't like your new addition to the agency, that he hates you. rations are limited and you're enough of a burden.

so when you're paired up with him to look for supplies (kunikida was bedridden, and you swear you can hear him weakly croaking about how dazai should go in your stead.) you're eager to prove to atsushi that you're not a burden, that you can help the agency.

it doesn't end well. if anything, you became only more of a burden — you didn't think that there would be a zombie creeping up from behind you. atsushi manages to stop it from going near you with his trusty ability, his claws ripping the undead to shreds; he didn't even stop until you forcibly pulled him from the mush of undead flesh.

an apology was ready on your tongue until he tackles you in a tight hug, his face buried on your neck, muttering words of how you're safe now; you would've been glad that your misunderstanding of him hating you is cleared up — you would've been glad. had it not been the claws that are still drawn and wrapped around your back, the mauled and unrecognizable zombie who's still spasming on the dirty floors, the smell of rotten flesh hanging in the air, and the violence he displayed in front of you.

[h5eavenly]

Carousel┃H.HJ SMAU

・❥・Things you might have missed:

the sun and moon analogy:

part one "the sun":

"A strange feeling in your chest. You blamed it on the boy’s smile, it was as bright as the sun." (ch 35).

Y/N sees herself as this dark being that’s unworthy of being loved by Hyunjin because she sees him as the complete opposite of her. When they first meet in high school these thoughts aren’t as strong. She still sees him as someone filled with light and resembles the sun but it’s only when things grow darker in her life she sees herself unworthy of him.

"How could the sun possibly be attached to a dying speck of light?" (ch 35).

Even when Hyunjin looks at her with love she finds it unbelievable and thinks it must mean that he doesn't actually her darkness. which is why for a long time especially when they were younger she feels like she needs to hide this part of her from him. she can't show him how dark she actually is.

"like he doesn’t know the darkness that surrounded you. Was he blind or was he just not scared of you anymore?" (ch 24) .

part two "the moon":

"So, he learns to love you in silence, from a distance. Hyunjin learns to love the moon just for you while you convulsion in loneliness and yearn for him. Constantly missing the sunlight." (ch 50).

Hyunjin sees her as the moon, strong, beautiful and so distant. like something he could only admire from afar never allowed to touch and that's why he always ends up following silently. Just like how the moon is always there and it feels like you're chasing it without meaning to.

"He realizes he never really knew you, a part of you had always managed to stay hidden. Just like the moon. There was no moment in time when he had all of you and so he resents you." (ch 50)

Again resembles how she always hid part of her that she thought was too dark to show him and it resembles how she sees herself, something that doesn't have light in their being it doesn't emit from her.

"How kind of the sun to lend its light to the moon, tinged with warmth. Apprehensively there is room for you to shine. It is thanks to him, you exist." (ch 59)

At the end she realizes she doesn't need to be someone who has light emitting from her and instead there's nothing wrong with having him lending her some of his light. at the end of the day her darkness doesn't scare him away and instead he is there to help her shine through everything.

summer and winter:

"summer remains in Hyunjin, in his smile and the dip in his cheeks, in the crinkling sides of his eyes when he’s happy and the scent of his bodywash." (ch 50).

summer is Y/N's favorite season and summer is her happiest season. she meets hyunjin during the summer and starts tying it with him. and even with his scent, since summer is the peak peach picking season. she even imagines her wedding to be during summer.

yet everything bad that happens to her is during winter like her dad cheating for the first time and everything that went down with seungmin and her worse stages of yearning for hyunjin are during winter as well.

"Despite the bitter winter you feel the warmth of sun seeps into your being when you take his hand in yours. It’s as sweet as peaches and embraces you in overwhelming comfort. a peaceful buzz that settles through the center of your heart, a fresh new color, so bright and foreign but more than anything welcomed." (ch 53.)

hyunjin forgiving her and deciding to give her a second chance is the first happy moment that she gets to experience during winter. therefore breaking the cycle of miserable winters.

smaller things:

Hyunjin smoking: after Y/N and hyunjin break up the first time he changes a lot almost becoming a whole different person and quits smoking. He only starts again after Y/N is back in his life and without meaning to he starts falling back into his older habits as his emotions are climbing back to the surface. Like falling into the cycle of denying his feelings and refusing to talk about them like when he was a teenager.

Dying his hair: he dyes his hair in pathetic attempts to regain self control. like trying to prove to himself that he still has power and Y/N doesn't have the same power she used to have on him (she does)

why is it called carousel:

they keep going around and around each other like a carousel constantly chasing each other and never meeting in the middle and also because their love felt like being stuck on a carousel ride that never ends it starts out fun but becomes dreadful the longer it takes bc it's filled with miserable events as well.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Masterlist

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Taglist: @annybah @christopherisfoive @kkamismom12 @nujeskz @realrintaro

@wolfietara @luvvvash @pnkcasket @shyshyshytwice @samhomo

@babrieeee @nhyunn @lilliansreality @enzstr @feelikecinderella

@linocvp1d @itgirlalisaa @arikazu @hyundumpling @cupkiki

@avokralaim @super-btstrash-posts @mellhwang @kaiyaba

@finnbbl @rockyhedgehog @heyhaez @amarecerasus @anjian03

@jihanniee @skvrze @enzos-shit @certified-lana-del-rey-lover @chartrucewhore

@skz1lov @dreamerwasfound @lixie-phoria @sillygoosegoose

@20crowsinahoodie @siriusly1 @iheartchaes @hyunjinhwang-23

[silvercap]

24. Bedridden or 66. Bedside Manner, with comfort/caretaking from the team? Leon's gonna need it... (can be a continuation of something else, or a standalone, up to you)

He definitely does 😭 (For this prompt list)

Bedridden/Bedside Manner

"Fuck," Leon hisses weakly, arching backwards into Piers' arms as Jill tears yet another of the barbed spikes free of his thigh, the sound coming out closer to a sob. His breaths come harsh in his chest, one hand squeezing Chris's meaty palm in a death grip where he's decided to lean into Leon's space from the edge of the dusty bed, the other clawing into Piers' arm where it's been wrapped securely over Leon's chest. He shudders, sweat dripping down a temple.

"One more," Jill says grimly, to which Piers subtly tightens his hold. She doesn't give Leon a chance to prepare himself, cutting deep into his leg and yanking the final spike out in a gout of fresh blood. Leon can only gasp, spasming.

"Got--got anything for the poison, yet?" he slurs, feeling the burn of it through his veins now that the overwhelming source of pain has dulled. He thinks someone responds, but then Jill clamps down hard on his leg to provide pressure and Leon can't stop himself from passing out entirely.

He comes to with a cough, blinking blearily at the sensation of a cool cloth against his forehead, a callused thumb so large it can only belong to Chris sliding gently beneath his eye to collect the tears that have fallen there. He's still slumped against Piers' solid body, shivering weakly despite the warmth his fiancé provides. Leon moans.

"Shh," Chris soothes from Leon's left, Piers' hand smoothing over his hair as he shudders involuntarily. "We've got you."

Another, smaller hand is propped under his knee to hold it up, white gauze and bloodstained bandages visible in his blurry vision when he glances down. He winces as Jill pulls the top layer tight, bare thigh pale where it sticks out from beneath the thin blanket thrown haphazardly over his legs. He's still wearing his jacket, the distant growl of BOWs audible outside of the shack they've crawled into for shelter.

"Piers," Leon croaks as Jill finishes what she'd been doing and gently tucks his injured leg under the blanket, pulling it up until the top edge is aligned with the neckline of his t-shirt. "P-Piers--"

"It's okay. I'm here," Piers murmurs in a low voice, holding Leon tightly when his body spasms for what feels like the hundredth time.

"Piers..."

He can't remember what he'd been about to say. Chris's hand slides back into his, squeezing as Leon's eyelids flutter. He stays like that for a moment, trembling--until Piers is helping him slightly more upright, the metal edge of a canteen meeting his lips. The water is cool and soothing enough that Leon can reopen his eyes, Jill's solemn face meeting his where she holds the canteen on its side. Chris is beside her, looking worried, but Leon doesn't have the strength to comfort either of them. He's starting to feel a little sick, if he's honest, the full weight of whatever had been in those spikes wreaking havoc on his system.

"Thanks, nurse Valentine," he rasps when Jill pulls away, mainly in an attempt to lighten the mood. If anything, it makes the lines on Chris's forehead even more pronounced, voice lacking in enough conviction to play off his condition. He sighs. "We should--keep moving."

"Absolutely not." Piers is firm, then softens. "There's no way you can stand without help, and we have no idea what the toxin might do to you. Just rest."

"He's right," Chris says softly, voice too gentle. His brown eyes are wide and watery when Leon manages to look, a forced smile on his face like he's trying to convince himself that it's real. Jill pats Leon's uninjured shin.

"Sleep it off, Kennedy," she says roughly but not unkindly as she sits down in a chair near his feet, in typical Jill fashion. As if following the order, Leon's muscles suddenly relax, the cottony haze in his mind becoming more pronounced as he sags into Piers' arms. He whimpers. Spasms.

"It's okay," Piers whispers, voice cracking. Leon doesn't have the energy to ask why. He reaches up blindly, hand getting caught in the blanket until he can free it to brush his fingers against Piers' jaw.

Unconsciousness takes him.

[biscuitbox23]

Dead weight.

summary: you run into the woods to get away from the group, you were reaching the end of your life as you suffer from aplastic anemia, only to get stopped by Rick.

A/n: I’m not a medical expert, i have no familiarity with the field of medicine I am just an idiot who is a sucker for terribly made sad stories. This may be a very long opening to the actual climax so im sorry for that :( please do DM me for advice on how i can make my fanfictions better!

Warnings: inaccurate depictions of the illness, non-established relationship (rick and reader), mentions of death, angst, cursing. (Not much due to me being a minor.) somewhat bad grammar since English isn’t my second language.

words: 1.3K

It has been a while, well, a while since you had a good stock of medicine. You had been in an abandoned cabin a few months after the outbreak. During it, you got stuck in a pharmacy in Atlanta. The law was gone now, so you hoarded a ton of antibiotics, capsules, injections, and anything you could get your grubby hands on.

When Rick and Daryl saved you from a trio of men who were trying to take advantage of you, you joined them and did not stay inside forever, especially when blood stained the floors of your shelter. It was a mistake.

You wanted to stay with yourself, isolated from the horrors and sacrifices that the world has offered now. It was harder to find medication now that most stores were stripped clean. It was easier for you to catch minor fevers, and you tended to have more rest than the others in the group. The only reason you were there is because you knew how to survive.

In the woods, in the apocalypse, no problem. Whatever your dad knew your dad would teach you, he was an outdoor person and loved to forage different shrooms and plants. God knows what happened to him.

You grew closer to the group, helping them find food and clean water, scavenging what you can find in abandoned retail stores (even if it does not have much importance.)

Now you find yourself walking out of Alexandria by attempting to climb the steel borders to the outside of the wall, your head spinning as drowsiness has consumed you to your very core, yet you still have the urge to continue. Or else you are just dead weight. You had a few foot slips —you swear, Enid makes it look easy— but managed to get out. You can sense your muscles aching as if you did not even have the strength to pull yourself up despite climbing trees more than a million times when you were a teen. You needed to disappear 

from the people, the group. Rick.

Rick was a leader, for sure. He had all the correct morals and cunningness and looked up to him for it. You were no longer the person of any use to him and his group. You could not even defend yourself without stumbling down to the ground.

You were around when T-dog and Lori passed away. You 

remembered falling for Rick when you first saw him, only to discover he had a pregnant wife and a kid. It started like a rocky road. You were so used to the isolation that it took a lot of convincing to get you to come with them to the prison.

You took a liking to his daughter Judith. You loved babies. It was a surprise. You thought that you would never find a baby in this world again. Carl was the closest to you. You tell him stories about your life and would do the same, reminiscing about the world that used to be. He praised his father a lot and got a good idea of what Rick was like as a father. Hershel would check up on your health while Rick would stand beside the old sport as Hershel examines you.

Making your way into the woods, you stopped by a tree to take a breather. Your hands were on your knees as you stared down to the ground, crinkles of the leaves crushing on the bottom of your shoes. The night was cold and airy. The chill on the tip of your nose was evident as you took one more glance at the haven that shielded the real outside world from its inhabitants. The sour stench of rotting meat was not detectable and gave some fresh air — It is not like you cannot get fresh air in Alexandria. You want to be alone most of the time.

“thought I'd find you here." A voice called out, the voice echoing in your ears sounding familiar as the crunching of leaves has gotten closer and closer.

“fuck” you curse under your breath, “how did you find me?”

“Carl saw you tryin’ to climb the walls.”

“huh,” you playfully scoffed but was met with a chill and a cough, “thought I was being sneaky…”

“what're you doin’ out here?” Rick asks out of the blue, staring you up and down as you lean back into the tree.

“Rick," you sighed heavily, “go back.”

“I'm not goin’ back till you tell me what happened, y‘know that, don’t you?” Rick asked with a twinge of concern mixed with his southern drawl.

You paused.

“I'm leaving, Alexandria,” You rubbed your forehead as your stomach grumbled. Sliding down to sit as your back leaned onto the tree further.

“If this is about your illness we can make—“Before Rick could finish his sentence you interrupted.

“Make it work? Yeah, I don’t think so…” You retorted, “You don’t understand, Rick. I have a condition where my bone marrow doesn't produce enough blood cells, and I have no meds to help me, what are the chances of finding a pharmacy? A pharmacy where it has all the things I need to survive?” You spat, frustration filling your mind like hot liquid.

“Denise can help you, Y/n, you have seen her efforts in helping you,” You can sense Rick’s desperation to get you back to Alexandria’s infirmary. His voice remained gentle but firm.

“Why, Rick?” Your eyes stared into Rick's ocean blue orbs, frustration, and confusion, “I’m not strong, anymore. I can’t go on runs, anymore. I can’t protect anyone.”

“Because we still need you—“

“Maybe it’s you who still needs me, Rick…” You spat, leaning your head on the wood as you got the strength to finally stand up, with the support of the tree, of course.

“Y/n we can discuss this once we get back,” Rick sighed, coming closer to you as he held both your arms gently.

A rush of adrenaline painfully scours into your veins as you push him away with all the remaining strength you have.

“GODDAMNIT RICK, WHY CANT YOU JUST LET ME DIE OUT THERE!” You yelled at him. “YOU KNEW I WAS GOING TO BE A BURDEN AND YOU SAW HOW MANY PILLS I HAD ON THE TABLE!”

Rick scoffed, “You're giving up now? After all that has happened? The prison, terminus… and you decide to end it all here? Where we’re finally safe?” His tone wasn’t as gentle but it was now harsher, deeper.

“if you think more treatments, will change anything, it won’t. I'm done and I won't let you guilt me into continuing this charade.”

“then what’re you gon’ tell Carl, hm? That you’re sick of bein’ alive so now you’re gonna leave?”

“This isn’t about Carl, Rick it’s about you keeping me to fill in the gap of what Lori gave you,” you glare with poison in your very eyes. “Leaving you to care for a child that was never yours.”

Rick went quiet, as you realized what you had said, “i-I’m sorry… Rick…” you pleaded, holding his hands.

Rick sighed, “Maybe you're right."

You nodded, your breath becoming shorter as your legs finally give in. You feel your body starting to shut down. Rick helped you sit down comfortably on the ground. You were paler and had many bruises on your arms and legs. You were heating up again.

“I'm sorry, Rick,” you breathed heavily, clutching the hand he gave you.

“It’s okay, Y/n,” Rick comforted you, kissing her knuckles as her legs trembled. Rick’s voice was shaky, almost labored.

“I don’t wanna turn, you can ask Daryl to keep my gun, you’ll need it,” You softly chuckled. Rick looked at you, taking his revolver from his holster.

“Get back to Alexandria, to Judith…” you smiled as you felt bile in your throat, blocking your airway and your heartbeat becoming more abnormal.

Rick gives you a final kiss on the head as an act of kindness and comfort on the edge of a quick and painless death.

—————————————————————

a/n: Hello everyone! This is my very first Fanfic and I thought about it on the spot 😭 Reading it for me makes me kinda cringe but don’t we all? Anyways hope you guys enjoyed it (cuz I didn’t but I’m a sucker for tragic love)

[a-library-of-old]

I know fnaf isn't popular anymore or whatever but it doesn't get talked about enough how badly Glamrock Chica was set up for failure. Don't get me wrong I know the other where to if not more so then her but the fact she doesn't get to have any fun places in the pizzaplex, the fact her only attractions are a cupcake place and mazercise....how she'd probably loved to bake but yet could never make a finished product because of the deep seeded need to eat she has...how she's programmed to want to stay thin and healthy despite this need to eat. Constantly running on treadmills and leading pilates or however its spelt in mazercise with food in her mouth. Hearing how own voice preach the importance of a healthy balance and yet she can never have that. How she lost her beak and yet could still shove food past the maw that's left behind unable to speak anymore. How her voice sounds so robotic and fake in the main game compared to the others, no personality past food. But this is how it is when you have a eating disorder to, you loose a life outside of food. Even in ruin we don't see her decayed no we see her rotting from all the food she's gummed up her electrical insides with, no one around to clean and repair her anymore, no way to even be 'full' for a moment now with her stomach left exposed. Anything she manages to get in herself immediately falling out as she hunts for even more food, body left mostly motionless as she can't move. The closest she gets to being full again is a trash bag full of garbage getting stuck in her while she's like this so instead the food can pile atop, this obsession representing how she fills herself with unhealthy foods, from the fresh carbs and trash left behind of old to the current day of mold covered mush that used to be food. The way she'll die cold and alone in a bathroom surrounded by a crumbled building reflecting how her life's crumbled apart. This isn't even mentioning the trash compactor incident or pizza making mini game of the main story either....a chubby chicken or not she deserves so much more then she was given

[channiesunshinx]

𝒞𝓁𝑜𝓈𝑒

Pt.1

Pairing: Jisung x F!reader Genre: Romance, drama, slice of life, angst Warning: Major character death, grief and loss, mental health stuggles

The warm buzz of the cafe was something I'll never forget. The smell of fresh coffee and pastries filling the air, the light chatter around me, and the sound of a few old songs playing softly in the background. I had been there countless times, but that day was different. That day, I saw her.

Y/N. She was sitting alone by the window, eyes focused on the book in her hands, but there was something about the way she looked up as I walked by. A soft smile that seemed like it had been waiting for me.

I don't remember exactly what happened next—just that we talked, and from that moment on, everything changed. It was so easy to be with her, so comfortable. The way she listened, how she made the world feel a little less heavy. We started spending more time together, going to the same places, sharing the same jokes. Eventually, we began dating, and every day felt like a new adventure with her by my side.

But time, as it always does, passed too quickly. Our life together, despite all the joy, was not without its challenges. There were moments I could feel something was off, something lingering in the background, but Y/N was always so good at hiding it. She'd smile, assuring me everything was fine, even when I could tell she wasn't feeling well. I wanted to ask, but every time I did, she'd brush it off, telling me not to worry.

It wasn't until a few months later that I found out. It was during the world tour, when the days felt like a blur of performances and rehearsals. I remember how my heart sank when the manager pulled me aside, his face somber.

“Jisung… Y/N... she's been diagnosed with a serious illness. She doesn't have much time left.”

My world shattered. I didn't know how to process the words. All I could think about was her. The woman who had always been there for me, who had filled my life with light. But there was something even worse that tore me apart—her last words to me.

She told me to keep going. She told me everything was fine, that I shouldn't worry, that I should focus on the tour. That everything would be okay. And I, being so focused on the world of music, listened.

I wish I hadn't.

I didn't get to say goodbye. She was gone before I could be there.

I saw her for the last time in that sterile hospital room. The other members were there, standing in silence, not knowing what to say. I could barely breathe. The weight of regret crushed me. I should have been there. I should have stayed with her, but instead, I chose to be on that stage, chasing a dream that suddenly felt so meaningless.

It was after her passing that I released Close. It wasn't just a song—it was a part of me, a way to release the pain, to let everyone know what had happened, and to feel like I was still holding on to her in some way. My heart was broken, but music was the only place I could pour my emotions, where I could let her know how much I missed her.

The hiatus was inevitable. I needed time, needed to heal—or at least, try to. The world of the stage, the fans, it all felt like it didn't matter anymore without her. So, I withdrew into myself, into the quiet, trying to make sense of the loss, trying to live without the person who had once been my everything.

The world would go on, but Y/N would never be a part of it again. And that, above all else, was the hardest thing I had ever had to face.

[nrdmssgs]

Hi! I love your writing! Could you please write some more angst? I love fics where the reader is in danger/peril. Platonic or romantic is fine!

Before he snaps

Masterlist Angst with an open ending

Pairing: Soap x reader

Summary: Soap finds a new face on the base, that wakes his utmost interest. Your face. There is only one problem: you have a rule to never date military men.

TW: heavy swearing, implied abuse (physical and psychological)

AN: sorry for taking forever, I needed to gather a bit strength to formulate and share this one.

Johnny smiles widely in surprise, when he discovers a new face in the office. He stops on his tracks, turns around and heads straight to you. "Never seen ya here before, lass. I'm Soap, nice to meet you!” You are taking aback by his assertiveness, since you didn't await for anyone to come to your office on your first day here. Nevertheless, you answer. “Soap? Is it because you always smell nice?” “Check it yourself if you want.” He moves closer and hovers over your table so that you really can feel the deep fresh aroma with slight notes of spice emanating from his skin. You frown and laugh in surprise. And just like that, Johnny, who had a million things to do today, suddenly finds a whole hour to distract you from onboarding.

***

You know the golden rule: “don't date military men”. Even if mankind extincts and there is only you and that handsome sergeant with his endearing accent and eyes, you could easily drown in, are left alive - don't date military men. But it will do no harm to have a little chat with him time to time, right? And It's certainly not your fault, he has so much paperwork, he needs your help with. You always have time for Soap.

***

“Gaz, no time for explaining, I need your forms 17-A-41 and 17-A.1-41!” Johnny rushes into Kyles room with a speed of a freshly unleashed greyhound. Gaz doesn't even manage to reply, while Soap roams through the papers on his table. “Soap, don't tell me you drank coffee from the captain's mug before bed again…” But Johnny completely ignores his friends words and grabs papers. “Here they are! I'll fill these in for you, dinnae worry, pal!” Kyle still processes, what has just happened, when Johnny disappears behind his door, barely closing it. It's only a week later, when he notices, who exactly in the office verifies these forms. By that time, Soap manages to steal and fill these papers for the whole TF. 

You are warned very soon that Captain John Price's crew need not be disturbed, even if they owe you some documents. Their work is different from the tasks of the rest of the soldiers on the base, and their incredible workload must be treated with understanding. But Johnny keeps visiting your office every other evening, when they are not deployed. He may be tired, may struggle to stay awake, but stopping by your desk is a ritual, and it's not to be broken. When he brings you form 17-A-41 from Price himself, you take the same one out of your table and show him. “Johnny, you are overworking. You've already brought me Prices version last week. Now, I do not accuse you of forging documents, I know that you fill out everything conscientiously. But don't you think it's time to take a break? Because at this point, your work starts losing its point.”

Other guys on his place would be embarrassed, but not him. You never see him down, in fact, even when he comes to you obviously straight out of the med bay.  “I can find more soldiers, who still are not done with these forms, you are waiting to validate. Or we can skip all paper work and go on a date already.” He is pretty straight forward, but one can afford such boldness, having an absolute disarming smile. A smile so beautiful, it's a pity, you have to brush it off from his face. “Sorry, Soap. It's better if we stick to the paper work.” Despite your fears, his smile doesn't disappear, as if his face could never be sad or angry. “As you wish, lassie.”

***

You two keep it friendly yet professional. Even when you start attending little gatherings, the 141 has every now and then at a small pub in the nearest town to the base. Although every time you come there, whoever was seating next to Johnny, finds something very urgent to tend to on an opposite side of the table. 

“It is still not a date,” you note every time, and Johnny makes a funny face, bringing his brows together. “Of course, bonnie. Not dating military guys, I remember. It's a complete ordinary work meeting. Now you get those documents ready and I'll bring you a pint.” His smile still shines ever so bright, it feels, as if someone brought an extra lamp to your table. 

***

“Still not a date?” His mischievous eyes narrow, when you freeze a few inches away from his face. This year you've gradually become so used to such evenings, you didn't even notice, how others left you two alone. Didn't even notice, how you two spent a whole hour talking, how you laughed at his jokes, head thrown back, how you gradually leaned closer, until his hand rested on your shoulder. 

“Yeah, you're right, sorry.” You instantly remember the №1 rule and all the reasoning behind it. A wave of fear washes down your body, you move away from Johnny and clasp your fingers around your arms.

***

At first, Johnny thought, it's a matter of principle for you to not start any romantic intercourse inside the military. It was not the first time, he came across someone with such a rule, so he isn't surprised. But slowly a different thought develops at the back of his mind: something led you to this principle. Something unsettling, something, he doesn't like at all. But you never told him anything, never let him question you on that topic. So Johnny waits and tries to be somewhere near you, just in case you'll need his help.

You try to not let it slip, but there are tiny cracks in your demeanor here and there. Stories cut off in mid-sentence, your restless glances around when the two of you go out of any building. Johnny never shows it, but he remembers every time, something like that happens. And despite his ever-blooming smile, it accumulates anger and concerns deep inside him. 

***

Soap regrets, you two are not dating when you disappear from the office for a week and return with a medical mask on your face. “Caught bad cold, I'm afraid I'm still contagious.” Your explanation reeks of lies a mile away. But Johnny accepts it without questions. After all, he only wants for you to feel safe around him. Of course, it pains Soap a bit, that you obviously keep secrets from him, but who was he to ask you to always be honest to him? So he keeps smiling like an idiot and only lets himself touch your hand and remind, that you can always reach out to him, no matter what.

And you actually contact him in some time. It is late, the whole base was sleeping. “Johnny, you there?” A short message, to which he immediately responds, wondering, why aren't you asleep at this late hour. “Can you walk me from the office?”

Walk you from the office? Now? Something doesn't add up. It's too late even for after hours at work. What made you stay that long at the office? Or maybe… (And this is when Johnny remembers your frightened eyes, when you two exited any building.) Or maybe, who kept you from going out of the office? Soap throws on his jacket and almost runs towards the offices. He is met by a dark building with one alive window - yours. Johnny almost flies up the stairs and knocks on your door. 

You open the door and thank all the gods, it's Johnny with his warm, caring smile. “I'm sorry, I promise, I'll explain everything, just please let's go out of here! I want home, I'm so tired.” Soap doesn't protest and lets you take him down a dark hallway, then up empty flights of stairs, and finally out into the street. "It's probably all right! I just thought, I've seen something... We'll just get to my apartment and everything will be all right." You mutter incessantly when Johnny stops abruptly and takes your hand.

“Wait-wait. Look at me, please.” Johnny still smiles, but his voice is now low, rumbling, menacing. “Whatever is happening here with you - this is not ok. And I want to help. But you'll need to tell me, what exactly is going on.”

You stand before him, gathering all your strength to speak up. But when you finally open your mouth, Johnny's gaze darts somewhere behind you, and he automatically steps forward, shielding you from something, you have not yet seen. But you recognize, what, or rather who, is coming at you. He is your pain, your fear, everything, you thought, you've left behind, your #1 rule. For a short moment, you press your whole body against Johnny and plead him. “Please ignore him, let's just walk away, please.”

“Leave her be, mate. You can find yourself something much more fancy.” The painfully familiar voice makes you freeze. You clench to Soaps jacket and mumble ‘please-please-please ignore him’. 

“This whore is my cross to bear, you don't need her. You can do much better than a stupid twat, that apparently ‘needs more attention when her man is not deployed’, but still won't abandon her useless work to spend more time with me.” Soap doesn't answer, doesn't even flinch, only covers one of your hands with his. “You don't need a useless slut, that accepts your attention only to abandon you, because you apparently didn't match some image of a prince Charming, that she bears in her fucking head!” You could not make yourself lift your gaze to the man speaking to Soap. You only beg Johnny to leave. And when it feels like he is almost convinced to not start a fight, the man adds: “You, boy, can do so much better than a fruitless tree, that throws a tantrum when its “bark” is slightly scratched.” Johnny looks down at you. Forgotten, that you still have your medical mask on, you cover your mouth with your hand, as if trying to hide something from him. Soap doesn't ask you to remove the mask - there is no need. He turns back to the man, takes a deep breath. 

And then Johnny snaps.

[bandgie]

Predator & Prey

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

a/n: this is the second chapter!

2.7k words

The beast flew in the sky happily, easily maneuvering around the tall trees. You stayed on the ground, walking as you tried to maintain some of your body heat. You would occasionally look up at the flying creature, noticing how ecstatic he was to be free. He must've been in there for a long time, you thought. Though you had endured horrible circumstances here, leaving a dead pile of bodies behind you, at least you managed to make one person happy.

The creature slowed down its flight, aiming down for a soft landing besides you. You still hadn't gotten used to its nakedness, you did not acknowledge its presence near you besides a small nod of your head.

"The village won't be too far from here," he tells you, eyes looking at the side of your head. You nod, "Good. I don't think I can handle being in the snow much longer." The creature hums, clawed hand rubbing its chin.

"I still never understood how man can be on top of the food chain despite being so weak," it speaks, "As far as I'm aware, it's slower that and weaker than the bigger animals here. It can barely manage to catch a bunny, and it cannot maintain its own heat for long. Man is hardly capable of living it seems."

You can tell he's trying to irk you, despite saving you less than 30 minutes ago. Instead you shoot back, "Well, man managed to catch you. Guess you're no better than a bunny."

You look at its dark eyes with a playful smile on your face. It sneers at your response and takes flight, snow hitting you on the way up.

For the remainder of the time, it ignores you until you see a faint light of fire. Getting closer, you can see the outlines of houses and hear the soft chatter of cattle.

You stop in your tracks, looking up in the sky for the monster to see what you needed from. You spot him on a nearby tree, eyeing the village with caution.

"Listen, prey, you are to find something suitable for the winter. Find decent food to keep yourself full, our journey is not over," he doesn't look at you as he speaks. You're too cold to shoot back, so you listen to his instructions and take your first few steps into the village.

It's smaller than you had originally though, and emptier. Save for the cattle, there was practically no soul here. You could tell there were people though, the lanterns were lit and there were stands with fresh meat and wool. How you were going to obtain all the things you need without anything to give was the million dollar question, but you knew what would be easiest.

Steal.

You yanked the cloth of the stands, running into the butcher shop to steal some meat. No one was keeping much of an eye on their stands, so it took a good few couple of seconds before you could hear them yelling. You bursts into the meat store, grabbing what your hands could manage trying to ignore the store owner's screaming.

You quickly exited the store, your ruckus was starting to wake up the village. People peeked their head out of their window and others even walked out of their house to see what was going on. It was embarrassing, especially when you had two big men and women that were most likely their wives chasing after you.

Adrenaline rushed in your veins as you continued your crime, grabbing a pair of wool trousers on your way out of the village. You ran into the forrest, the two couples not that far off your tail. Fuck, you think, I can't run with all this shit.

Just as you debate on dropping some of the items, a gust of wind blows past you. A whirl of leaves and snow create a wall between you and your chasers. You turn around to look at the conjured all, mouth agape.

"You fool, keep running!"

So you do, listening to the voice you know belong to the beast. It wasn't long until you could hear the couples screaming, but you still don't turn around.

"It's a demon!" "Devil's spawn! Go back from where you dwell incubus!" "Beast!" "Monster!"

You ignore all of what they say about your companion, running until your chest burns and feet give out. You fall into a soft pile of snow, chest heaving as you find comfort on plush coldness. The snow burns to the touch, but you're so tired that you're tempted to close your eyes and sleep.

The loud sound of flapping prevents that though, you sit up to find the creature not too far from you. You reach and grab the coat you stole, putting it on. You rub your upper arms with your hands, trying to get some blood circulation going. You eyes spot the trousers you stole. You reach for them and chuck it at the beast.

"Head up," you saw, and he catches it with ease. He grimaces at the clothing, as if it's the worse thing he's ever seen. "I will not wear your human clothes," its voice stern.

"Dude, I really don't wanna see your ding-a-ling swinging around," you tell him. "I dunno what type of...animal you are, but being a incubus doesn't give an excuse to-"

"Do not call me that, insolent human," it growls. It stalks closer to you, eyes narrowing on your form. "I saved you from those men, the cold, and from those villagers, You repay me by cursing my being and making me use my precious energy?"

You cower in fear, you stand no chance against a super being like him.

"I am called Nyryx, do not make the mistake of calling me anything else."

You nod, bottom lip quivering from fear and the cold. He looks at you a beat longer before rolling his eyes. Nyryx huffs exaggeratedly as he puts the trousers on, scrunching his nose as the wool touches his skin. He manages to get his bird feet though the holes, adjusting the top part at his waist. It fits.

He looks back at you, arms crossed. "Start a fire, you cannot eat raw meat. Not that I have to tell you that."

You gather some nearby sticks, ignoring how intense Nyryx's gaze is. He's judging you, silently. Are you grabbing enough sticks? Can these even be burned? How the hell can you start a fire in winter? You have a decent size pile before you look over at him, "I don't know how to start a fire."

He groans, "You are like a child. Not much better than a suckling on its mother's breast."

You cross your arms and shake your head, it's better to ignore his words. He crouches and arranges the sticks so it's in a teepee form. You watch and he bends down, mouth open as he breathes fire from his mouth. You gasp, taking a step away from the small flame the begins to come to life.

He stands back up, eyeing you. He's waiting for your reaction. What will you call him? Will you run? Curse him? Damn him to hell? Nyryx has been shunned for what he is all his life, his own parents cursing him. He balls his hands into a fist and unclenches his hand. He should not expect you to be any different. All humans are the same.

"Holy shit. So you're like a dragon?" you ask, eyes sparkling with curiosity.

He raises an eyebrow, "I don't think I've ever been called that. But no, dragons don't have magic like I."

"Magic," you repeat. Nyryx can't help but notice that way you say it, like it's unbelievable and impossible. What type of world have you come from?

He nods, "Yes. I'm aware that you're in need of a portal. I can conjure such thing, but I'm not at my strongest."

Your eyes gleam with hope, you could feel them start to water. Home, it sounds so close yet so far. Your emotion get the best of you, small tears fall down your cold cheeks. You can go home.

Before you have the chance to wipe them, Nyryx stands in front of you. His hands clasp the side of your face before he leans down, tongue poking out to taste your tears. You squeal at his hot tongue, smacking his chest. Memories come back of him licking your face when you had killed the Lord. You originally thought it's how he showed his thanks for opening the cage, but now you think it was a snack for him.

He pulls away, long tongue licking his lips. Nyryx suddenly lets your face go, leaving your body cold from his lack of touch.

"Fluids from creatures is not just a source of food, but power. The stronger the emotion, the more power I obtain. If I am to open the portal, you need to find me this food," he tells you.

You wipe your face from his salvia, nodding. "Any creature? Like animals?" He nods. It was a lot to take in, you assume fear would be the most influential emotion. You take a deep breath, you can do this. "I can't hunt," you confess, "I don't think I can do much to help."

He laughs bitterly, "I did not expect that you could. Humans have intense emotion, that will get me the power I need the fastest. You have to lure them to me so-"

"Absolutely not!" You yell without meaning to. "I'm not gonna do that. I'm not your pimp."

He furrow his eyebrows, "I understand that your human morals are at stake, but if being this...pimp...is what you need to do to get back home, that's what needs to be done."

You shake your head, "You said any creature. Do animals and cattle. I'll take cattle from villages and give them to you, plus it gives me meat to eat. Two birds with one stone."

Nyryx grows irritatedly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's detrimental that I have enough life force before the full moon. It is when my magic will be at its peak. We have a fortnight, do you really think there's enough cows and pigs for me?"

You don't know, it's a scary risk you're taking. But this beast, no, Nyryx is willing to help you. You don't know why, but he is. "Yeah, I can do it."

He sighs, showing his doubt in you, but he nods nonetheless. "Okay human, we will do things your way."

You smile softly, but then frown again, "Human is not my name."

"Human, cow, pig, bunny, it matters not. You are all prey to me."

-

Days carry on with you and Nyryx traveling from village to village. It was getting easier to walk in the snow, your body was slowly starting to adjust to the cold. Luring out animals was harder than you thought, they would sometimes run in the complete opposite direction from where you needed them to go. As if they knew what lurked for them in the snowy woods.

However, Nyryx was nonetheless pleased with your attempts. His behavior was getting better, his snarky comments weren't as frequent. He even started calling you by your name...sometimes. Perhaps he was just hungry all this time, you're not you when you're hungry after all.

However, you were getting uncomfortable sleeping in the snow. Though Nyryx provided fire and the occasionally body heat, you needed a bed. You two were huddled together, you shivering body pressed against his wing. He tucked you in close, but you can tell he was avoiding his arms from touching you.

"Please!" you beg. "Just for a few nights. I won't cause a ruckus and I'll get even more animals. I just need a bed." You were asking to sleep in a village for a night or two. It was a back and forth conversation, he would tell you it was too risky, but you were stubborn on this.

He sighs, you really weren't going to let this go. "Fine, but you owe me your tears."

The village you decide to stay the next few nights at is much more lively than the previous ones. It has people walking from store to store, stand to stand. You told Nyryx that you will find a nice family to stay with, they would pity you hopefully. You were going to purchase some gloves when you felt warm air. You turned your head to find a building, warmth emitting from it. The sound of laughter and talking was loud, you stepped inside.

It was a bar full of burly men and women carrying drinks and trays. It was so warm inside, you rubbed your hands together and took an empty seat on the bar. You had been to a few bars back at home, but this one felt like a family. It was clear this establishment was welcoming, the playful fighting across tables was proof enough of that.

Your eyes wandered before a pretty, older woman came up to you, hair in two braids with a warm uniform on.

"I suppose you're a traveler yes?" Her voice is pleasant, a pleasant smile on her lips. You nod. "Are you waiting for your husband? Where is your companion?"

You shake your head immediately, "Oh no, I travel alone." Her eyes widen and she softly gasps.

"Miss," her voice is hushed as she leans down to talk to you. "A lady should not be traveling alone. If someone asks, you must tell them you have a companion even if it's a lie."

You notice her sudden behavior change, she was protective, motherly. "Yeah, that's good advice. Thank you."

You end up telling her that you had gotten lost. That you came on ship across the sea, and somehow got separated from your family. You just needed an inn to stay at for a few nights and you would be on your way. Only some parts were a lie.

"Oh dear, I'm so sorry," her lips pout. "Should you need, my family is welcome to travelers, we house them upstairs."

You widen your eyes, sitting up straighter. This was easier than you thought. "Are you sure? I don't know much it costs but-"

She waves a dismissive hand, "No need. We need pretty workers like yourself to hustle these tables. Would would be alright?"

"Yes," you say immediately, "I can do that."

She smiles and claps her hands, "Thank heavens! I should introduce you to my family, they are upstairs."

You stand and follow her to the second story, your stomach flips in excitement. A bed! God how you missed such a luxurious thing. The lady open the door at the top of the stairs and holds it open for you.

You walk inside slowly, eyes scanning the area. The living room and kitchen are combined and you notice two little boys hitting each with kitchen utensils.

"Boys!" Their mother yells, walking past you. "I told you to play outside if you're going to fight! We have a guest."

You bite back a smile, heart swelling at the reminder of your mother.

"These are my sons. Aaron and Erik. They are quite the troublemakers. Should they bother you, please let me know," their mother says. "My daughter-oh! Pardon me, I am Meredith! How rude of me to invite you to my home without telling you my name. Please forgive me."

You let a small laugh escape, "Please don't worry, I'm-"

"You talk funny," one of her sons, Aaron you think, says. Meredith promptly smacks him on the back of the head making him cry out. "You wait until your father comes home," she threatens.

"My daughter," Meredith resumes, "is in her room. She prefers to...read the books she collects." The woman walks over to you and gives you a wary look. "Abigail, my daughter, she enjoys...reading books that young ladies should not read. I will not fib, I brought you here with hopes to get her head out of such treacherous writings."

You give her a questioning look, biting your lower lip in thought. Treacherous writing? Like pornography?

"You guys seems to be the same age, I just assumed you could influence her to help with the bar downstairs," Meredith finishes. Before you can answer, someone comes through the front door. You turn to see a giant of a man, snow on his facial hair.

"Oh dear," the mom says, "I offered this young lady a living space as payment for helping downstairs. Her name is..." Meredith turns back to you. "I'm sorry, I don't think I caught your name."

end of chapter 2