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sai-int · 3 months ago

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hi angel! I love your writing so much, I loved your daryl fic <3 could I make a request for rick smut? you could write anything about rick and I'd love it <<3

hi hun! my brain instantly went to some "we shouldn't do this" smut and that's kindawhat i conjured up :] hope u like it!!

rick grimes x f!reader, oral (fem!receiving), ricks shlong, 1.6k words

The rain started just after noon, a slow drizzle that quickly escalated into a downpour. By the time you and Rick realized the herd was closing in, the storm had become a deluge, turning the forest paths into rivers of mud. The walkers were relentless, forcing the two of you to sprint through the trees, your boots slipping on the wet ground.

“This way!” Rick shouted over his shoulder, his voice barely audible over the roar of the storm. His hand shot out, grabbing yours as he pulled you toward a narrow path. The chill of his touch shot through you, grounding you even as the chaos pressed in.

The cabin appeared out of nowhere, half-hidden by the rain and overgrown foliage. It was old and weathered, its shutters hanging crookedly and the roof sagging in places. But it was shelter, and more importantly, it had a door that locked.

Rick shoved it open with his shoulder, ushering you inside before slamming it shut. He shoved a standing closet across the door, catching his breath once he knew the both of you were secure. You leaned against the wall, trying to catch your breath, your clothes soaked and clinging uncomfortably to your skin.

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, dripping water onto the creaking floorboards, the storm raging outside. Rick turned, his piercing blue eyes scanning you for injuries.

“You good?” he asked, his voice rough but laced with concern.

“Yeah,” you managed, though your pulse was still racing. “You?”

He nodded, brushing a hand through his damp curls. “We’re lucky this place was here. Could’ve been bad out there.”

“Could still be bad,” you muttered, glancing at the foggy windows. The walkers weren’t far behind, and the flimsy-looking cabin didn’t inspire much confidence. But for now, it was quiet—no groans, no shuffling footsteps.

Rick moved further into the house, crouching to inspect ashes left in a fire place. “Looks like someone’s been here recently. Should be enough to get a fire going.”

You watched as he worked, gathering scraps of dry wood and kindling from the corners of the room. The way his hands moved—quick, efficient—was almost hypnotic. You’d been on enough supply runs with him to know he thrived under pressure, but there was something different about seeing him like this, in a rare moment of quiet focus.

Once the fire caught, warmth began to seep into the room. You sat cross-legged on the rug, holding your hands out toward the flames while Rick shrugged off his jacket and tossed it over a chair to dry. His shirt clung to him, damp and outlining the broad planes of his shoulders, his strong biceps and chest. You tried not to stare, but your eyes had a mind of their own.

“We should stay here tonight,” Rick said, breaking the silence. “Let the herd move on.”

You nodded, though the thought of spending the night alone with him made your heart pound for reasons that had nothing to do with fear. The unspoken tension between you had been simmering for weeks—glances that lingered too long, the occasional brush of his hand against yours, words left unsaid.

The rain intensified, battering the windows and drowning out the world outside. You both settled into an uneasy quiet, the crackle of the fire the only sound.

It wasn’t until later, after the initial rush of adrenaline faded, that the weight of the day’s events truly sank in. You were sitting on the couch now, stripped of your sopping jacket with Rick beside you, close enough that your knees brushed. His head was bowed, his hands clasped together as he stared at the floor, his leg bouncing ever so slightly–in concentration or anxiety? You couldn't tell.

“You ever stop pretending, Rick?” you asked apprehensively, your voice barely above a whisper.

His head snapped up, his blue eyes locking onto yours. “What are you talkin’ about?”

“You know what I mean,” you said, your heart thudding in your chest. “You act like none of this means anything. Like we’re just two people trying to coexist, and that that’s all it’ll ever be.”

Rick exhaled sharply, standing abruptly. He started pacing, his boots thudding softly against the floor as the firelight casted his shadow across the room. “We can’t do this,” he said, his voice low but firm. “It’s not right.”

“Why not?” you challenged, standing too. The both of you illuminated by the warmth of the fire as it warmed your skin, your voice rising above the droplets that hit the roof. “What’s stopping you? The rules? Rick, there are no rules anymore... Didn't you say that to Shane?"

He turned to face you, his expression torn, conflicted. “It’s not that simple,” he said, his voice rough. “We’ve got a group to think about. Responsibilities. I have Michonne, I think, This—this would only make things harder.”

You stepped closer, the space between you shrinking. “You’re absolutely right,” you said quietly, your voice feigning sincerity with every ounce of your being. “We shouldn’t do this...”

The air between you felt charged, thick with unspoken words. Rick’s breath hitched, his eyes searching yours for a hesitation he wouldn’t find.

He surged forward, his hand cupping the side of your face as his lips crashed into yours. The kiss was all tongue, teeth, and desperation, all-consuming, weeks of suppressed feelings erupting all at once. You balled your fists into his damp shirt, pulling him closer as you both stumbled back onto the couch.

“Goddammit,” he muttered against your lips as his hands found your waist, his voice raw. “We shouldn’t—”

“Then stop,” you whispered as one hand tangled deeper in his damp curls and the other held the rippled muscles of his back.

The firelight flickered as clothing flew across the room. You peeled off his shirt while shimmying out of your pants, his hands dipping beneath the fabric of your top before yanking it off entirely. His touch was both rough and tender, his hands exploring the skin of your chest like he couldn’t get enough. He kissed his way down the soft skin of your neck before marking it as his, stubble scraping deliciously against your flesh. His tongue swirled around your nipples, giving them both enough attention to make your cunt flutter around nothing.

Outside, the storm raged on, but inside the cabin, it felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of you—your breathless whispers, the heat of the fire, the way his name fell from your lips like a confession.

His lips traveled further down your stomach before he scooped up your thighs and placed them around his shoulders. Without warning, he licked a fat stripe over your clothed core, your back arching immediately as you practically grinded on his tongue. Lord knows it's been a while since a man's had his mouth on you.

But none of them were as good as Rick. His baby blues met yours as he pulled your panties to the side, feeling his cock twitch against his zipper at the sight of your glistening arousal. He lapped up your juices, moaning at the taste of you as he swirled and sucked your sensitive bud. You squealed as he held your legs impossibly tight, restricting your movement as he ate you nastier than a starving walker would have.

He eased a finger into your tight hole, slowly massaging that gummy spot inside of you that made heat burn in your thighs and stomach.

"Gotta get you nice 'n ready for my cock, Baby, hmm? How's that sound? Gon' get nice 'nd ready for me?" Rick was on another planet as he babbled, obsessed with the way your hole took his finger so well. He eased in another, his hips automatically pistoning into the couch at the sound of your moans, imagining just how well you would take his cock.

"R-Rick please... Need you so bad, please..." You were in tears as he played with you. He gave you enough stimulation to bring you to the brink of cumming, but never enough to throw you over. You pawed at his curls that were between your legs as he looked up at you. He almost looked drunk as he pulled his eyes away from your cunt.

"What'd ya need, Sweetheart?" He cooed at you as he sat up. His frame rising up above you as he unbuckled his pants, his eyes never leaving yours. "You need somethin' from me?" His mocking didn't cease.

"Yes, Rick! Fucking please..." You pleaded as you watch him work his belt out of the loops of his jeans at a agonizing pace. He pulled his pants down just enough to free himself from his boxers. The sight made your mouth water.

He was thick with a slight upward curve, thick curls at the base, and his tip was an angry red, pre smeared all around it. You reached out to take him into your hands but he moved away, your hands retracting.

"Keep those hands where I can see 'em. You wanted my cock so bad, right? You're gonna have to ask real nice for it, Sweetheart." He said, dragging his hands across your stomach, scorching the skin beneath his fingers.

You huffed as you stared at his cock as he teasingly tapped it against your perked clit, each little nudge making your hole flutter. You looked up at him with pleading eyes, whispering his name like a prayer through whines and whimpers of desperation.

His hand reached out and rested on your cheek, wiping away a stray tear. "So sensitive... If I had known that I would've fucked this pretty pussy weeks ago.." His thumb slipped into your mouth, his cock drooling as your lips immediately tightened around it.

"Since you like to whine so goddamn much, you can suck on that while I fuck you stupid."

mlist

#rick twd #rick grimes #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes smut #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x female reader #twd towl #twd smut #twd #twd fanfiction #the walking dead smut #the walking dead #the walking dead rick grimes #༒︎ sai-int #𓄧 angel’s asks

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winxanity-ii · 2 months ago

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⌜Godly Things | Chapter 15 Chapter 15 | veiled depths⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

You felt weightless yet grounded, like being suspended in a void where gravity had no say. The air, or lack thereof, pressed against your skin, cool and dense, as though it wanted to seep into your pores.

Your body felt untethered, disoriented, as if the world had folded itself inside out.

Everything was dark—so dark that you couldn't even see the outline of your own hand. There was no sound, no wind, no sensation of movement—only the overwhelming stillness that pressed in from every direction.

A low chuckle brushed past your ear, the sound warm and teasing. "It's safe to open your eyes, little musician..."

The voice jolted you, and for a moment, you hesitated, unsure if you wanted to see what lay beyond this suffocating darkness. Slowly, you creaked your eyes open, half expecting the void to remain.

At first, there was nothing but inky blackness, but gradually, faint shapes began to emerge. The outlines of towering, jagged stone arches loomed overhead, their surfaces shimmering faintly with an otherworldly glow.

The ground beneath your feet was cold and rough, uneven with patches of smooth obsidian-like rock that reflected dim light.

You inhaled sharply. The air tasted heavy, like iron and ash, and it clung to your throat, making it harder to breathe. A strange stillness blanketed the area, the kind that made every sound feel intrusive.

Hermes' voice broke the silence again, light and conversational as though he were simply giving a tour. "Welcome to the gate of the Underworld," he said, gesturing broadly with his arm. "Lovely, isn't it? Hades certainly has a flair for drama."

You turned to face him, your movements sluggish as if the air itself were resisting. He stood just a few steps ahead, his crimson cloak flowing unnaturally, untouched by any wind. His golden eyes gleamed in the dim light, his expression a mix of amusement and intrigue.

"Where...?" you began, your voice cracking as you took in your surroundings.

Hermes grinned, clearly enjoying your reaction. "We're right on the threshold between worlds. See that?" He turned you gently by the shoulders, pointing behind you.

You followed his gesture, your breath catching in your throat. A narrow tunnel stretched far into the distance, its rough, dark walls illuminated by a faint golden light at its end. The glow pulsed softly, like a heartbeat, steady and warm.

"That," Hermes said, his tone dropping into something almost reverent, "is the mortal realm. A cozy little exit for souls who've earned their place back among the living... or for visitors like us to remember where we came from."

Your gaze lingered on the light, the warmth of it stirring an ache deep in your chest. It felt distant, unreachable, and yet part of you longed to step toward it, to bask in its glow.

"But," Hermes continued, stepping in front of you and blocking your view, "we're not here to dwell on that, are we?" He gestured toward the opposite direction, where the tunnel opened into an expansive void. "There's much more to see."

As your eyes adjusted to the dimness, you noticed movement in the distance. A vast river stretched out before you, its surface dark and sluggish, like molten ink. Thick mist curled over the water, obscuring parts of it from view.

And then... you saw him.

A hunched figure stood atop a small, rickety ferry in the middle of the river. His silhouette was skeletal, his robe tattered and blending with the shadows. Even from a distance, you could see how still he was, his hooded head tilted in your direction.

It felt like he was staring at you.

A chill ran down your spine, and you took an involuntary step closer to Hermes. The ferryman's presence was oppressive, his stillness more unnerving than any movement could have been.

"Who... who is that?" you whispered, unable to tear your gaze away.

Hermes followed your line of sight, his golden eyes narrowing briefly before a smirk tugged at his lips. "Ah, Charon?" he said, his tone casual, as if speaking of an old acquaintance. "The ferryman of the dead. Bit of a grump, but reliable as they come. He's not much for conversation, but he gets the job done."

Your gaze lingered on the figure, still as stone, his shadowy form blending with the swirling mists over the river. The hollowed hood of his robe made it impossible to see his face, but you swore you felt his attention settle on you, sharp and unyielding. It felt like the chill of winter air slicing through your skin.

You shivered, clutching your arms instinctively. "Do we... have to use the boat?"

Hermes turned to you, his grin widening mischievously as he clasped his hands behind his back. "What? And miss the chance to see Charon in all his gloomy glory?" He chuckled, shaking his head. "Just kidding. Of course not. We have a VIP pass, remember?"

Your brows furrowed. "VIP pass? What's tha—"

Before you could finish, Hermes swooped down and picked you up, his arms curling securely under your legs and back. "Hold on tight, little musician!" he warned, his golden eyes sparkling with glee.

"Wait, what are you—AHH!" Your protest turned into a screech as Hermes kicked off the ground, the wings on his sandals beating furiously as you shot into the air.

Your screams echoed through the void as wind whipped past you, cold and sharp against your skin, while Hermes' laughter rang out like a bell.

You clung to him tighter, your heart pounding as you soared higher, the world beneath you shrinking into a dark, endless abyss. The river stretched below like a yawning chasm, its surface rippling with faint, ghostly lights.

The air was thick and cool, carrying faint echoes—mournful whispers that sent shivers racing down your spine.

You forced your gaze downward, the landscape shifting beneath you, dark and mythical. Jagged rocks jutted out like broken teeth, and faint, flickering spectral lights danced in the shadows, their movements slow and deliberate, like they were watching.

In the distance, you caught glimpses of strange, dreamlike objects—fragments of clocks, shattered mirrors, and what looked like broken chairs floating just above the river's surface. They swayed gently, as if tethered to invisible strings, their presence a haunting reminder of the lives left behind.

Hermes dipped lower, hovering just above the river. The mist curled around his feet and yours, tendrils of it reaching upward as if trying to pull you in. Shadows moved beneath the surface, amorphous and massive, their outlines distorted yet undeniably real.

"W-What... what's in the water?" you stammered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the rushing wind.

"Regrets," Hermes replied simply, his tone uncharacteristically sober. "Broken promises. Forgotten dreams. Everything people left unresolved in life."

You stared down at the dark waters, your breath hitching as one of the shadows slithered closer to the surface before disappearing again.

"Lovely, isn't it?" Hermes teased, though his voice held a faint edge.

"Not the word I'd use," you muttered, clutching him tighter.

With a laugh, Hermes straightened his course, carrying you past the mist and the river until solid ground reappeared beneath you. He landed lightly, setting you down as though the flight had been nothing more than a leisurely stroll.

You stumbled, your legs shaky, and glared at him. "Warn me next time!" you hissed, the words escaping without thought.

"But where's the fun in that?" Hermes shot back, his grin wide and unapologetic. "Now, come along. The tour's just begun."

You hesitated, glancing back toward the river, its surface still rippling with faint light and shadow. The figure of Charon remained in the distance, unmoving, as though waiting for his next passenger.

Hermes gestured ahead, his crimson cloak sweeping dramatically. "Welcome to the Underworld," he said, his voice dripping with theatrical flair. "Allow me to show you the highlights."

You followed him warily, your senses on high alert as the landscape unfolded around you. The darkness seemed to ebb and flow, shifting like a living thing, revealing glimpses of otherworldly sights that made your breath catch in your throat.

To your left, faint golden light shimmered through the murky air, illuminating a distant expanse of rolling fields.

They stretched endlessly, dotted with trees whose leaves sparkled as if dusted with starlight. Figures wandered through the fields, their movements slow and deliberate, their forms bathed in the gentle glow of the light.

Hermes stopped, gesturing grandly toward the scene. "Behold," he said, his tone lighter but tinged with something softer, "Elysium. The final reward for the virtuous, the brave, the wise. Heroes and poets, philosophers and dreamers... they all find their peace here."

You squinted, trying to make out the figures in the distance. Their faces were too far away to discern, but something about their serene movements tugged at your heart. The fields themselves seemed alive, the golden grass swaying as though in time with an unheard melody.

"It's beautiful."

Hermes nodded, his expression uncharacteristically calm. "It is," he said simply, his voice quieter.

You stared a moment longer, drawn to the sense of peace that radiated from the fields. But before you could ask more, Hermes suddenly grabbed your wrist. "C'mon. Let's check it out. I mean, when are you going to get a chance like this again?"

You hesitated, your wide eyes flitting toward the fields. "I-I don't think I—"

"No time for hesitation, little musician," Hermes interrupted, tugging you forward. His golden eyes sparkled with mischief as he added in a teasing tone, "Besides, you're with me. I've got pull."

You stumbled slightly as he led you closer, your heart pounding as the golden light grew brighter, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. The air in Elysium felt different—lighter, sweeter.

Each breath you took was tinged with a faint floral scent, and the gentle rustling of the grass seemed to hum with a quiet, melodic rhythm.

As you walked, your gaze was drawn to the figures in the distance. They moved gracefully, their forms glowing faintly under the golden light. Some sat beneath the sparkling trees, their heads bowed in quiet conversation, while others walked hand in hand, their expressions peaceful and content.

Your steps faltered as you caught sight of a small gathering near one of the larger trees. Among them was a figure that stood out—a tall man with a proud posture, his golden hair catching the light like a flame. His armor gleamed as though freshly polished, and the faintest smile played on his lips as he spoke with the others.

Your breath hitched, your voice trembling as you whispered, "Is... is that Achilles?"

Hermes chuckled softly, following your gaze. "The one and only," he said, a hint of pride in his voice. "Not a bad spot for a legendary hero to spend eternity, huh?"

You couldn't tear your eyes away, the weight of the moment pressing against your chest. The realization that you were standing in the same realm as figures who had lived and died in stories you'd only ever heard whispered around fires left you speechless.

"I can't believe it," you murmured, more to yourself than to Hermes.

"Believe it," he said, giving your wrist a gentle squeeze before tugging you forward again. "But don't stare too long. The last thing I need is for you to get starstruck and embarrass me in front of the legends."

A small laugh escaped you despite the overwhelming awe still coursing through your veins. "I thought gods didn't get embarrassed."

"Only when mortals make it impossible not to," he quipped, his smirk returning as he guided you further along the edge of the fields.

The golden light of Elysium began to fade behind you, replaced by the harsher tones of the Underworld's other regions. The smooth, glowing stones beneath your feet gave way to uneven, jagged terrain, and the air grew warmer, heavier, and thick with a faint, acrid smell that stung your nose.

Ahead, a deep chasm split the ground, its jagged edges glowing with an orange-red light that pulsed like the slow, rhythmic beat of a heart. From its depths came faint, echoing screams—high-pitched and mournful, carried on a hot, unnatural wind.

You stopped in your tracks, your stomach twisting at the sight. "What... what is that?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Hermes glanced back at you, his expression unreadable. Without a word, he stepped closer, his arm curling around your waist as he lifted you effortlessly into the air.

"Hold tight," he murmured, his tone softer now.

You clung to him instinctively as he hovered near the edge of the chasm. The heat rising from below was stifling, and the glow of the firelight cast eerie shadows on his face.

"That," Hermes said, his voice low, "is Tartarus. A place for the worst of the worst—traitors, tyrants, those who defied the gods. And, of course, the Titans." His golden eyes flicked down toward the chasm, his lips twitching into a smirk. "Think of it as the parallel to Elysium... but not the good kind."

You shuddered, staring into the depths. The screams grew louder, mingling with the crackle of unseen flames and the faint sound of chains rattling. Shadowy figures writhed far below, their forms indistinct but their agony palpable.

Hermes' expression softened, and he lowered you gently back to the ground, his arm lingering for a moment as though to steady you. "Not a place you'd want to visit," he added lightly, his smirk returning.

You turned to look at him, your voice hesitant. "Do you... go down there often?"

His gaze lingered on the chasm for a moment longer before he shrugged. "When I have to"" he said, his tone casual but with a weight beneath it. "Sometimes I'm the one escorting souls who've earned their place there. Other times..." He trailed off, his smirk faltering. "Let's just say... it's not my favorite part of the job."

You swallowed hard, your gaze drifting back to the chasm. "It's horrible," you murmured.

Hermes nodded as he began flying away, his expression solemn. "It is. But it's necessary."

As the chasm faded into the distance, the air around you seemed to shift again, growing lighter and cooler. Hermes' tone brightened, his playful grin returning as he gestured toward the winding paths ahead.

"Of course, my duties aren't all doom and gloom," he said, his voice taking on a mischievous lilt. "I'm not just a glorified escort, you know. I deliver messages between the gods and Hades, mediate the occasional argument among the dead, and keep this whole place running smoothly."

You raised an eyebrow, your curiosity piqued despite yourself. "Did you just say, 'argument among the dead' as in arguing souls?"

Hermes chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Oh, you'd be surprised. Some people don't let go of grudges, even in death. Sometimes it's a stolen goat. Other times, it's an epic feud spanning generations. Keeps things interesting down here."

You couldn't help but smile faintly, his lightheartedness cutting through the heaviness of the journey.

"Then there are the gods," he continued, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Hades can be a bit... particular, but he's nothing compared to some of the others. You should hear Demeter's complaints about Persephone being here half the year."

He chuckled to himself, his voice carrying through the still air like the faintest echo. "Honestly, if I had a drachma for every time she's accused Hades of keeping her daughter longer than he should... " He glanced over at you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Well, let's just say I'd be richer than Apollo."

You smiled faintly, though your mind was still trying to process the enormity of everything around you. The shifting landscapes of the Underworld had left you in awe and unease, the weight of the souls and their endless journeys pressing down like an unseen force.

Hermes slowed his pace, his golden eyes scanning the horizon as the terrain began to shift again. The jagged rocks and harsh glow of Tartarus faded into the background, replaced by a muted grey expanse. The ground grew softer, coated in a fine layer of ash-like dust that swirled faintly with each step.

The air grew heavier, cool and damp; the faint sound of whispers brushing against your ears, though you couldn't make out any words.

"This," Hermes said, his voice softer now, "is the Asphodel Fields."

Your breath hitched as the scene unfolded before you. An endless plain stretched as far as your eyes could see, its surface a monotone sea of grey and silver. Low-lying mists clung to the ground, weaving through the field like restless spirits.

The souls of the dead wandered aimlessly, their forms translucent and faintly glowing. They drifted through the haze, their movements slow and mechanical, like they were caught in a dream they could neither leave nor wake from.

Their faces were devoid of expressions, betraying no emotion—neither joy nor sorrow—only a blank, unending neutrality, their steps light as though they floated just above the ground.

"These are the ones who led ordinary lives," Hermes explained, his tone carrying a rare note of reverence. "Neither wicked enough for Tartarus nor virtuous enough for Elysium. They exist here in... well, let's call it neutral peace."

You stared, the weight of the sight pressing against your chest. The souls didn't seem to notice you or Hermes. They floated past like shadows, silent and disconnected, their figures blurring slightly as they moved through the thick, misty air; each lost in their own timeless wandering.

"It's seems kind of..." You searched for the right word, your voice trailing off as you watched a soul pause mid-step before resuming its slow journey. "Lonely."

Hermes nodded, his expression uncharacteristically somber. "It can be. But not everyone here sees it that way." He gestured toward a small cluster of souls in the distance, their movements slower, more deliberate.

Through the mist, you caught faint glimpses of them. They stood closer together than the others, their translucent forms almost touching. One figure reached out, its hand brushing against the faint outline of another. Though no words were spoken, their presence beside one another seemed less aimless, almost comforting.

"Some find solace in the stillness. For others... well, they just fade."

Your stomach churned at his words. "Fade?"

Hermes glanced at you, his lips twitching into a faint, sad smile. "When they forget themselves. Memories blur, identities unravel. Without purpose or remembrance, what's left to keep them tethered?"

A shiver ran down your spine as your eyes were drawn to a nearby soul drifting past within arm's reach. It was a woman, her movements slow and deliberate. Her face was faint, almost featureless, and her translucent form shimmered weakly, as though she were barely holding onto her shape.

She paused for a moment, her head tilting slightly, as if sensing your presence. A faint chill brushed against your skin, and you swore you heard the barest hint of a sigh before she continued on her way.

"Does she..." Your voice faltered as you glanced at Hermes. "Does she know we're here?"

"Maybe," he said with a shrug, though his gaze lingered on the soul. "Or maybe she's just remembering something that feels like us. Hard to tell in this place."

As you walked, Hermes occasionally gestured to things in the distance—an ancient tree with gnarled, leafless branches standing alone in the field, its roots half-buried in the ashen ground; a crumbled, forgotten structure with faint carvings etched into its stone, eroded by time.

"That used to be something important," Hermes mused as he pointed to the ruins. "A shrine, maybe. Hard to say now. Even here, traditions fade."

You nodded silently, your eyes tracing the outlines of the structure. The carvings were barely legible, but they seemed to tell a story—fragments of lives long gone.

At one point, Hermes stopped abruptly, his gaze fixed on a small patch of flowers growing near the base of a mound. The flowers were pale and delicate, their petals faintly luminescent, as if they glowed from within.

"Ghost blooms," Hermes said, crouching down to pluck one gently. He held it up, the petals trembling slightly in his grasp. "They only grow where a soul's memory was strong enough to leave something behind."

You reached out hesitantly, brushing your fingers against the flower. It was cool to the touch, its glow dimming slightly under your skin. "It's beautiful," you whispered.

Hermes nodded, standing and letting the flower drift to the ground. "A reminder," he said, his voice softer now. After a moment, he stepped forward, his cloak sweeping across the dusty ground as he strolled ahead.

You followed him hesitantly, your steps slow and uncertain. The field stretched on endlessly, the grey expanse blending seamlessly with the horizon. The air felt heavier here, the silence oppressive, broken only by the faint whispers of the wandering souls.

Hermes came to a stop in the middle of the field, his golden eyes softening as he turned to you. "This is where I leave you for a bit," he said, his voice quiet but firm.

You frowned, glancing around the empty expanse. "What do you mean?"

His lips curled into a faint smile, and he gestured gently ahead. "Walk," he said simply, his tone holding a strange mixture of encouragement and mystery.

You hesitated, your heart pounding as you looked at him questioningly. But his smile remained steady, and after a moment, you took a slow step forward.

The ground beneath your feet crunched softly, the ash-like dust stirring with every step. The air felt cooler now, the faint whispers growing quieter, almost expectant.

And then, you saw them.

Two figures emerged from the mist, their forms faint and glowing like the other souls. But as they drew closer, their features sharpened, becoming more defined, more familiar. Your breath caught in your throat, and you froze, your heart hammering in your chest.

The man stepped forward first, his broad shoulders and gentle smile exactly as you remembered. His blond hair, slightly disheveled, caught the faint glow of the mist, framing his strong yet kind face. His brown eyes, warm and full of love, locked onto yours, shimmering with a mixture of disbelief and joy.

Beside him, the woman followed, her movements graceful and full of purpose. Her dark hair was swept back in a familiar, simple style, the faintest glow catching the curve of her cheekbones. Her sepia skin radiated a warmth that felt like home, and her eyes—wide, filled with tears—were fixed on you as though you were the most precious thing in existence.

A sob tore from your throat before you could stop it. "Mother?... Father?"

Your mother gasped, her hands flying to her mouth as tears streamed freely down her face. "My sweet dove," she choked out, her voice trembling.

She rushed forward, her arms wrapping tightly around you, and for a moment, you couldn't breathe. Her touch, warm and firm, enveloped you like a shield against the weight of everything you'd endured.

"You're so beautiful," she whispered, her hands cupping your face as she pulled back just enough to look at you. Her thumbs brushed against your cheeks, wiping away tears you hadn't realized were falling.

Your father joined her, his strong arms pulling you into his chest. He buried his face into your hair, pressing kiss after kiss to the crown of your head. "My little one," he murmured, his voice breaking with every word. "You've grown so much. Look at you... so strong, so brave."

You clung to both of them, your fingers digging into their clothes, as though letting go might make them disappear. The sensation of their presence—the warmth, the familiarity—was overwhelming, and you couldn't stop the tears that fell freely now.

"How..." Your voice trembled, barely a whisper as you tried to make sense of the impossible. "How are you here? How is this real?"

They pulled back slightly, just enough to see your face, their hands never leaving your arms as if they too were afraid you might vanish.

Your mother's lips quivered as she gazed at you, her tears falling even as she smiled. "We've missed you so much," she said softly, her voice thick with emotion. "Every single day, we've thought of you, prayed for you."

Your father nodded, his own tears glistening as he cupped the back of your head. "We've watched over you, little one. And now... now, we can finally hold you again."

The weight of their words hit you like a tidal wave, and memories you had tried to bury came flooding back. The way they had laughed with you, taught you, held you in the moments when the world felt too big. And then, the sickness. The quiet moments by their bedside, the laurel wreath clutched tightly in your hands as you prayed for a miracle.

"B-But..." you stammered, your voice cracking as flashes of those final days pierced through the haze of joy. "You were... you were gone. I held the laurel, but I couldn't... I couldn't save you."

Your mother's expression softened, and she pulled you into another embrace, her arms wrapping around you tightly. "Shh, love," she murmured, her hand stroking your hair as she held you close. "It wasn't your fault. We were ready to let go, knowing you'd be safe."

Your father's hand rested gently on your back, his touch warm and steady, grounding you in the chaos of your swirling emotions. "We were never afraid for you," he said softly, his words laden with both sorrow and relief. "Not even at the end. We knew... we knew Apollo would protect you."

The mention of Apollo made you pull back slightly, your brows knitting together in confusion. "Apollo would protect me?" you repeated, your voice laced with uncertainty. "I don't understand. Why would Apollo protect me?"

Your parents exchanged a glance, their expressions shifting into something softer, almost hesitant.

Your mother spoke first, her voice barely above a whisper. "Love... don't you remember?"

You shook your head, the motion slow and uncertain. "Remember what?"

Her eyes searched yours, her lips parting as she whispered, "You're favored by Apollo."

A/N: and the plot thickens~ haha see! i been reading/listening to you guys, i didn't forget about mc coincidentally never bringing up/recalling her favor but let me hursh before i spoil/mess things up... also, ive seen/read your compliants on telemachus and all i can say is he better tighten up before hermes take over lolol, but seriously, i know it's going slow, but it won't feel right if i don't give the other love interests enough time to wiggle their way into mc's heart, 'ya know???

Tag List: thesimppotato11 alassal jackintheboxs-world uniquetravelerone

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geowrites03 · 19 days ago

Text

Good Girl

Tim Drake x Kent!Reader smut

Summary: You both wake up horny from a brief nap after a smoking sesh. OR. Horny Tim Drake likes to munch 😋.

I was alone in a basement, chained and locked up in a small dog crate. I wasn’t scared, I knew I could get out. I just waited for a perfect time. The guy who thought he could kidnap me watched the camera, if I tried to escape with him watching he’d come down and try to stop me and I didn’t particularly want to fight anyone again today.

I looked through the floor and walls to watch for when he would walk away from the monitors but it was like watching paint dry. ‘Fuck it’ I broke the chains off of me and kicked the door of the crate off which made it fly across the room. He jumped up from his chair and ran out of the room he was in.

I ran to the basement door and broke it down. I heard his footsteps as he ran down the stairs and around the corner to me. I kneed him in the crotch and punched him in the jaw. I ran out of the front door and got blinded by the bright sun.

“Fuck. Why does it always have to be so bright in Metropolis.” I threw on my sunglasses and flew home so I could pack my bags to stay with Tim for a few nights like we’ve been planning to for a while now. Once I got home I had to explain to explain to mum and dad what happened to me today.

“That’s it. If you can’t handle yourself here, even as a Kryptonian how do you expect to handle yourself in Gotham?” My dad had questioned, not wanting me to go.

“Please. Come on, I’ll have a house full of vigilantes there to protect me. Even though I can protect myself.” He looked down at me then to mum.

“If you can protect yourself then how did you end up in that situation today.”

“And then he was all like, ‘young lady if your mother and i send you there and the slightest thing goes wrong i am flying there myself’.” Tim and I start laughing as I make an amazing impression of my dad while I retell the story.

“I’m sorry for laughing babe.” He takes a hit of the blunt we have lit and blows the smoke in my face. “You okay after all that today?”

I nod at him while still giggling. “It’s nothing, Timmy. I’m a super, I’m sure I can handle a creepy guy wanting to keep me in his basement.” He passes the blunt to me, so I quickly put it to my lips and inhale.

“Yeah, I mean physically you’re okay. But what about mentally? You sure you okay? Especially with what happened late last year.” I choke on the smoke that’s in my lungs at the mention of the incident.

He quickly pats my back at puts the blunt in the ash tray while he’s apologising. I tell him that I’m fine and that we should be finishing the blunt that we’re currently neglecting.

He picks up the blunt and takes a long ass hit, thinking he was just going to blow it in my face and pass me the blunt I hold out my hand. Rather than the blunt, he puts his hand in mine and with his free hand he grips my chin.

He pulls me in close but also meets me halfway, our lips match each others perfectly, more so when we’re getting high. He blows out the smoke into my mouth and it goes directly down my throat instantly.

We both woke up from a nap we had after our smoking sesh. We looked around the room, noticing we had unknowingly hotboxed the room since we forgot to open a window. I laughed as he got up to open one, letting some smoke out and light breeze in.

He turned around and started walking back to the bed. I giggled when I saw that he was hard. The outline of his dick was on full display through his thin sleeping shorts.

“What are you laughing about?” He spoke as he sat down and pulled me into his lap. I moaned when his hard-on pressed against my clothed cunt.

“I just noticed that you needed a little help.” I moved my hips, rolling my ass against his dick. He blushed and hid his face in my neck.

He started kissing my neck and trailing across the top of my chest. He slid his hands up the back of my shirt and unclasped my bra. His lips pulled away from my chest when he pulled off my shirt quickly followed by my bra. His lips found their way back to my upper chest.

His hands went up to grab and massage my boobs. His lips trailed down from my chest to my boobs sucking marks into the soft flesh.

Tim’s POV~

I suck on the squishy parts of her boob while squeezing the other in my hand. Her boobs are one of my favourite body parts of hers, after her thighs. She moans as pinch her nipple, then whines as my attention goes down. I love hearing all of her noises, all of her moans and whines. It makes me want to tease and edge her for hours on end, just to hear the sounds she makes.

I push her down onto the bed carefully and take off my own shirt. Her hands go straight to feel my abs, the way her nails trail over skin makes me heat up.

I take off her shorts and kiss the inner sides of her thighs. My hands come down to squeeze the flesh. Her whines fill my head, intoxicating me, as I place more teasing kissing on her upper thighs.

I ghost my lips teasingly over her wet cunt, pinning her hips down when she thrusts down to gain contact. Thankfully weed dilutes her strength so she’s nice and malleable, all for me.

“Stay still, princess.” I make sure my breath fans across her cunt, just so I can hear her whine. I chuckle and nip at her clit, causing her to flinch and throw her head back as she moans loudly. “Shh angel. As much as I love to hear your pretty sounds, you can’t be too loud this time.”

I dive between her thighs and lick a stripe up from her entrance then flicking my tongue at her clit. She gasps and tangles her fingers in my hair. I wince, enjoying the light tug.

I focus on swirling my tongue around her clit. Her quiet little moans getting me drunker than her sweet cunt already was. I bring my finger up to her entrance and slide it in, eased by her slick. She took that easily so I added another two.

I pumped my three fingers into her tight, soaked cunt, sucking on her clit. Her breaths were heavy, eyes brimming with tears as one hand grips the sheets and the other in my hair.

I curl my fingers into that one spot that drives her crazy and bit down on her clit. The soft, soaked walls of her puffy cunt squeeze on my fingers, as she reaches her climax. One of her hands moves up to cover her mouth, to suppress her squeals.

“Good girl.”

#tim drake smut #dc #dc comics #red robin x y/n #red robin x reader #tim drake x you #tim drake x reader #tim drake x fem!reader #tim drake x kent!reader #tim drake x super!reader #tim drake #kent!reader #super!reader #tim drake x y/n #smut #dc comics smut

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topochicoslut · 3 months ago

Text

everybody wants to rule the world: prologue

fic synopsis: A young woman is sent on what is sure to be a suicide mission to spy on Ryomen Sukuna by a rival curse user who has heard rumors that the infamous King of Curses might have found the secret to true immortality

pairing: ryomen sukuna x fem!reader rating: 18+ ONLY!!!!!! MDNI!!!! IF I CATCH YOU, I'LL BLOCK YOU!!! word count: 1.1k

warnings: none for this chapter! but overall fic warnings include but are not limited to the following- slow burn, enemies to lovers, eventual smut/p0rn with plot, descriptions of violence and gore, language, horror elements, morally grey characters, me having an aneurysm while trying to properly describe cursed techniques, true form sukuna (eventually), etc etc. each chapter will have the appropriate content warnings added to them based on subject matter : )

a/n: hiiiii! so this idea has been bumping around in my head for the past few weeks, and I finally decided to do something about it. idk the world has just been kinda crazy lately, so I figured why not write something super self indulgent about sukuna to help take my mind off of things. this is just the prologue, the next few chapters should be dropping soon-ish after this. I just need to tidy some things up (aka edit the fuck out of everything i’ve written so far🫠🥲). just a couple of quick things- this is a Heian era AU fic, and while I did do a lil research before I started writing this, there will probably still be a couple of historical inaccuracies here and there. so for that I just wanna apologize in advance and say my bad. I have the entire story outlined, including the current number of chapters it will probably take to wrap everything up, but considering this whole thing has sort of taken a life of its own at this point idk what to expect anymore lol. I'll do my best to update it when I can based on life and work and everything else. !!!please note!!!: the first few chapters focus more so on reader's back story and world building, so sukuna won't make his first full appearance right away, but he IS mentioned periodically leading up to that. so please bear with me until he arrives in all his glory lol. anyway, thanks for everyone who has shown interest in this story since I first posted about it the other day! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it 🖤 divider by sweetmelodygraphics

Southern Japan, 888 AD

Your head was pounding when you woke up. Just as it had been ever since you’d arrived at the temple.

Well, arrived was too kind a way to describe what had really happened. Being forcibly kidnapped and imprisoned was a much more accurate description of how you had landed in your current situation. But the specifics didn’t really seem to matter all that much anymore.

Nothing did really.

You were still laid out in the middle of the floor of the small shrine you’d been confined to for the past two- or maybe it was four?- days now. You eyed the carafe of water to your right, and if you weren’t feeling so groggy and sick you would’ve crawled over to it and gulped it down. Hoping that the refreshing chill of it would help clear your head finally.

But moving felt impossible, and you were so, so tired.

A few days ago sleep would’ve been a welcome escape for you, but now it was just another prison you were stuck in thanks to the numerous talismans that were hanging on the walls around you. They had been smart to not leave any light sources in the room with you, or else you would have grabbed the nearest torch and burned them all to ash so you could try and make a run for it. But the only source of light you had came from the moonbeams that were shining in through the tiny window above you.

The air was thick with smoke from the incense that had been burning ever since you’d been sealed in this room. Its sickly sweet aroma had made you retch when you first arrived, but now all it did was keep your mind fuzzy and your body heavy and sluggish. That paired with the ofuda that hung from floor to ceiling was just another tool used to keep you subdued and prevent any hope you had of escape. You couldn’t cross the threshold of the shrine even if you could get your body to cooperate.

The faint chittering sound coming from the shadows let you know you were not alone. But you couldn’t bring yourself to look in the direction they were coming from. You didn’t want to see the empty black eyes of the creatures that had been assigned to watch your every move day and night. Not when you now knew the sickening truth behind how Hisato had created them. Binding dead flesh and bone together with-

You couldn’t even think of it.

Your former master had never been one to shy away from showing the world exactly what kind of man he was. You knew that he was cold and cruel when you had willingly joined his side all those years ago. But somehow even you hadn’t thought he would be capable of such grotesque acts of depravity in his quest for immortality.

Or perhaps deep down you’d known all along what sort of monster he truly was, choosing instead to ignore it by willfully turning a blind eye to his unhinged cruelty because of the protection and comfort that had been provided to you by dutifully serving under him for so long.

You had been a fool.

If Sukuna were here, he would wholeheartedly agree with you.

He was somehow the one thing you could still see perfectly clear in your mind’s eye. You pictured him standing in this small room with you, towering over your limp body, his tattooed arms crossed over his broad chest as he glowered down at you with those fiery eyes of his. Challenging you to get up off your ass and do something. To fight like your life depended on it, because it did.

‘Foolish, pitiful, girl,’ He’d say. ‘This is pathetic. You’re being pathetic.’

You’d honestly give anything to hear him say those words to you right now, and the thought had you suddenly giggling to yourself. You didn’t care that your laughter was bordering on hysterical, but it was just so bitterly ironic that you found yourself wishing that the King of Curses was here to mock and scold you, considering that just a few months ago you had slapped him as hard as you could right across his face for insulting you and calling you names. It was funny how things had changed between the two of you in such a short amount of time.

The knowledge that you might never get to be near him again weighed on you. To hear him tut under his breath at you for bothering him with your ‘useless blabbering’ even though he was the one who so often sought you out. To feel his blazing red eyes follow you from across a room. To be overcome with the heat of his large body moving in tandem over yours. If you closed your eyes you could almost taste the sweat of his skin, and smell the rich, musky, scent of cedar and smoke from the incense that filled his chambers. In your mind it was so sharp it could almost mask the disgusting smell of the incense in your prison.

Almost.

You wished you could warn him about Hisato. You wished you could go to him and let him know that you were alive. You wished you could tell him where he could find you. You wished you could tell him to stay far, far, away. Because even if Sukuna did somehow manage to find you, even if he did somehow arrive here and challenge Hisato, there was only a limited window before the ritual would begin, and if Hisato was successful, not even Sukuna would be able to grant him a true death like he deserved.

In the distance you heard the sudden ringing of the large bronze bell that lived in the heart of the temple. It rang loud and clear- once, twice, and then a third and final time. Despite your distance from it, you felt your bones rattle with every swing of its giant body.

The chattering from Hisato’s creatures resumed, and this time it was feverish and loud. Their little shrieks and screams filled the room, and you could hear their talons scraping against the wooden floor as they moved their decaying bodies in excitement.

The moonlight that shone into your room was brighter than it had been only moments before. It pierced through the thick wisps of smoke that filled the air like a sword cutting through a blade of grass. You turned your head and stared out the window as you watched as the edges of the full moon that hung so heavily in the night sky began to twinge with red. Red like blood. Red like Sukuna's eyes.

It was time.

tag list: @after-laughter-come-tears @officialholyagua @clp-84

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna fanfic #sukuna fanfic #sukuna fic #sukuna smut #ryomen sukuna smut #jjk fanfic #everybody wants to rule the world fic #topochico writes things #can’t believe i’m writing fics again after a nearly three year hiatus #hopefully this doesn’t suck too bad lol

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sukified · 11 months ago

Text

— his favorite ho.

❀ katsuki b. x fem!reader

❀ outline. teeny tiny drabble because i saw a car sex twt vid and it made me miss kats

❀ w. 18+ content, dirty talk, very light assplay, katsuki has anger issues, riding, car sex

❀ do not repost thx

katsuki has had a long fuckin’ day.

higher ups yapping in his ear and telling him that his poor attitude towards civilians has become a daily topic and he’s had enough. everyone who knew of the pro knew that his temper was short, that he wasn’t saving people to be friendly. no, he was doing his job, keeping japan safe and sound under his supervision without fake flowery bullshit.

not only that, his anger management classes have been kicking his ass. it was a requirement as soon as they threw katsuki on the front lines— he needed to attend regular sessions. it was believed that going to talk about his feelings, forced out of his protective shell of aggression and anger, would improve his performance.

whatever the hell that meant.

you know full and well how katsuki has been feeling about his current predicament. he brought it up all the time over whatever fancy dinner he treated you to, complaining about responsibility and growth and the likes. the man simply needed emotional guidance, he needed to learn healthier ways to deal with his feelings and mental hurdles because they were strong. everything about him was so very strong.

though, when he didn’t feel like running an irritated hand through his mop of thick ash hair while he spewed profanities about his braindead therapist or his dick-sucking bosses, he’d keep you stuffed.

it was a particularly taxing day on his end, seeing as though spring tends to bring out the evil motives and the villains. popping off explosions and knocking wrongdoers the fuck out could only go so far for his stress, for his mental constipation.

no, today he needed more. he needed to shut his brain up, needed to direct the anger and resentment and frustration elsewhere. what better way to deal with his problems than take it out on his pretty baby?

“been forever since i’ve given you good dick, hah?” katsuki hisses as his head lolls back lazily, thunking against the sleek leather of his backseat, rough hand planted limply on the curve of your waist. you look godsend hovering over him, your shoulders flexing as you grip on his thick thighs, trembling like a goddamn leaf as you fight to keep yourself up.

he’s got you riding him because he’d be damned if he put any extra effort into the shitty day. today was your day to take control, a rare one because he couldn’t be bothered. katsuki had called you up as soon as his patrol ended, voice void of emotion in fear that he’d end up snapping at you for any minuscule reason. after all, you hadn’t done anything wrong to deserve his berating.

your pussy cries and sobs as you bounce on his cock sensually, the strain making your mind fog up and blank on your train of thought. it was almost a routine for the pro to use your body for a nice shutdown, you felt it was the best way to thank him as a citizen. he sought you out on his worst days and you never failed to follow through, something he fucking adores about you.

his jaw is slack, blonde stubble decorating his skin, tongue slithering out to lick at his lips. you were so damn wet and tight around him, it was just enough to help him block out the spiel he had received earlier in the day about working on his rescue skills. nah, he didn’t need to change himself for the sake of others, you seemed to like him just as he was.

“shit, you’re filth. jus’ a filthy girl,” the sound of his voice, mumbled and distant, makes your cunt throb. your walls suction him tight, coating him in a glossy mess of your pussy drool. he swears he could die happy right here and his mind is nearly blank as he slips a thumb in your ass, huffing out a quiet chuckle at the way your back arches immediately.

no matter how nasty his attitude can be, you come back for more. you always do.

#katsuki smut #bakugo smut #bnha smut

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annesthaeticc · 1 year ago

Text

lovers rock | sherlock x fem!reader

| Sherlock Holmes x Fem!Reader

| one shot , song fic

| 961 words

| 'because love can burn like a cigarette, and leave you alone with nothing...' What Sherlock and Y/N had was beautiful, but it crashed and burned.

A/N okay bear with me it's short, but hey it's something, right? testing the waters asi hopefully hopefully come back into writing. let me know what you think!

————————————————————————————————

��Such a small world,” you quietly said and watched as the air escaped your lungs, echoing your words. The party inside was loud, but not loud enough for the silence outside was piercing yet calming. And so, he heard you. Slowly, he turned to see who spoke and found your silhouette, your shape outlined amongst the trees and the pillars.

Slowly, he walked towards you. Yet another mistake he was about to make. For all the choices he made that involved you, it led to one.

One. Big. Mistake.

Sherlock heard his heart thudding. Crashing and breaking in every step he made towards you. You sat there frozen, your eyes unblinking, or at least trying not to blink for you feared that if you do so, he might disappear.

Just like he did back then.

Sherlock sometimes wished he never pursued you, but here he was, about to do the very same thing. He never learned.

“Indeed it is.” he replied, his very perfect presence now crowding over you. His shadow embraced you and your eyes finally blinked only to find he was still there, standing in front of you.

He was taller. His face is more defined. His curls, curled to perfection. His perfume was the same, or is it? His lips fuller, more inviting than ever.

Sherlock noticed this, and cannot help himself but do the very same. You were perfect in every shape and form, as the day he met you. He committed crimes before, but his favorite might be the one he is about to make; to kiss you.

Silence passed by the small distance between you and him and it was almost deafening. You were waiting for him to say something. Something along the lines of “I’m sorry I left you…” And he was doing just the same, waiting for the words like “I’m sorry I couldn't wait for you…”

“Best man leaving early?” you finally said, shyly asking. He nodded and looked away.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, cutting you off before you could even say anything.

“I was invited, well not just me really, Ian and I were…” your voice trailed off as your husband's name left your lips. Again, he nodded.

Ah yes, Ian. Sherlock knew more than you. He is decent enough, this Sherlock could guarantee. But not decent enough to leave you on your own for days, even weeks or months on end while he was traveling the world on some sort of opera tour. Sherlock didn't care enough to dig for more details.

All he knew was deep seated anger and sadness.

And this resonated through the walls of the second floor of 221B Baker Street for months. Your wedding invitation sent for him lay hopeless on his desk, waiting to be written on to confirm his invitation. He was about to decline after finally making a decision that went on for weeks, only to find out it was pointless to respond because your wedding was already done.

And so, he threw the invitation in the fire. He watched as the intricate paper got swallowed by the flames, melting into ashes, into nothing. He was mesmerized by it. How something could be nothing because of the burning flames.

He was shaken from his thoughts when he saw your hand, holding a packet of cigarettes. You were offering him one and Sherlock accepted. You sat down again on the bench and he followed, allowing a few inches between you.

Quietly, the two of you smoked. Avoiding glancing or talking. You were caught up in a trance and were shaken out of it when you felt movement. Sherlock stood up and stepped on the cigarette. His shoe dug into the grass as the last of the embers glowed.

“Going somewhere?” you asked.

“Home.” he replied, his voice deep.

“I could drive you.” you offered.

“No thank you. I’ll catch a cab.” he replied, slowly walking away.

“Sherlock, wait, please—” you caught up with him and offered to drive him once more. He declined and you almost gave up.

His figure faded into the darkness when you cried out, “Sherlock, I'm sorry.”

Tears flooded your eyes and you couldn't help. It fell from your eyes, flowing down your face. Everything was blurry and you felt your hands shaking from the nicotine and from the adrenaline of your apology.

“It's been 12 years, Y/N,” he replied. “Why are you saying sorry now?”

“Because…”

“You will not tempt me to play one of your games, Y/N. Not this time. Not ever again.”

“Sherlock, please,”

“I'm sorry? Is that all you could think? You left me, Y/N,” he cried. And now you see his face. Anger, despair, and longing painted his face,

“You left me first!” you accused him. He really did.

“And yet you couldn't wait for me, couldn't you? All the promises I made—”

“Were gone as soon as you disappeared, Sherlock.”

“Oh ye of little faith!” he said, his voice booming.

“Sherlock,” you breathlessly begged. “I'm sorry.”

Sherlock heard you, and saw your eyes. He hated you for marrying someone else, but what he hated most is seeing you cry. He pulled out his handkerchief from his jacket pocket and dabbed your face, wiping away the tears. He pulled you into his embrace, just like he did back then. When your cries died down, he pulled away then planted a kiss on your temple.

“We would never work out. You're happier with him.” Sherlock said.

“I realized that what he had, was all that it was. Nothing more, nothing less. We burned too fast until we became nothing, Y/N.” he continued.

“I loved you,” you whispered.

“And I did too. So much.” he said, his voice breaking.

————— • ————— • ————— • ————— • ————— • ——

TAGLIST:

@migurin @damiensoda @inas-thing @peachywoong @ruevz @sammiisnthere @srapalestina @winchestersgirl222 @taramaria @alexag-barnes @sleutherclaw @will0wfairy @vexedvalerie @lovecleastrange @evelynrosestuff @azu21 @getlostsquidward @bubu890 @strangefilms @ice-ksk @my-beel @doctorswitch @tuitiononlivings @windchaser1990 @swds @andrewgarfieldsloml @spencerreidslittleslut @sherlockstrangewolf @littlebadariell @whosgwyneth @cumberbitch @lostfleurs @strangeobsessed @slvtforstr4nge @jyessaminereads @dancerpanda04 @stephenstrangeaddictions @starryeddie @cemak @valoa3s @paola-carter @runningnannie @siredlust @stupidthoughtsinwriting

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syringesyrup · 2 years ago

Note

More tummy worship? Please? 👀

CAN YOU PEOPLE LEAVE ME ALONE!!!

nsfw below cut. Get the fuckoutofmyface. TRANSDEW FOREEVERRRR (like scotland forever).

“You want the last of it?” Swiss asks as he twirls the dying joint in his clawed fingers. It’s ember is dwindling now, almost touching the tips of Swiss’ fingers as he holds it carefully in his claws. Dew hums with a shake of his head as he lays his head on Swiss’ stomach. He hooks a claw under the multi ghoul’s white tank top and folds it up to his chest to expose his warm tummy. He presses his face into it immediately and groans as he breathes in Swiss’ intoxicating scent of ash and whatever that new cologne is. Swiss’ stomach shakes as he laughs, glazed eyes peering down at Dew. Dew only draws his hands up lazily and squeezes Swiss’ stomach, suffocating himself in the pudge of the multi ghoul’s stomach. He tries not to think of the way it slightly folds over Swiss’ waist band now and fails. He breathes heavy onto Swiss’ skin and sighs, turning his head up again to the multi ghoul to try and distract himself from the bizarre thoughts he has about Swiss’ body.

Dew watches through lidded eyes as Swiss inhales sharply, smoke seeping into his parted lips. He tosses the stub of a joint into the ashtray on the nightstand and looks down at Dew, smiling at the red of Dew’s eyes and his sleepy face. “C’mon.” Swiss huffs through smoke, patting rhythmically on Dew’s shoulders as he lays unmoving on Swiss. “You’re breathing all hot on me down there.”

Dew hums against his bare stomach as he exhales a hot breath onto his skin. He’s in the mood as well, as per usual, but is far too comfortable with his face pressed to Swiss’ body. It’s warm and surprisingly soft and he just smells so nice. Dew wishes he could move and get things started, he really does. If Swiss’ tummy didn’t make his brain fog over every time he got his hands on it, they wouldn’t be in this position. Literally and figuratively.

Swiss adjusts his hips under Dew, gliding along the fire ghoul’s chest with a wince. It’s way too easy to get him going when Dew pays attention to his stomach. As if its Dew’s fault that Swiss’ body is impossible to ignore. The soft pudge of his stomach and the handful of raised scars that Dew has left behind with his own teeth many times. He’s glad that they left a mark. Maybe he did it on purpose each and every time.

What really drives Dew up the wall about his multi ghoul’s stomach is the tattoo marked just above Swiss’ waistband. How could he not stare at it? It’s Dew’s fucking name. Dew recalls fucking Swiss within an inch of his life after he got it done, outlining the fresh ink with his own little marks to compliment it. He still couldn’t believe Swiss was crazy enough to do that. He even made a passing comment about getting their favorite water ghoul’s name as a tramp stamp. Dew couldn’t save Swiss from Rain’s bizarre reaction if he tried.

“Helloooo? Earth to Dewdrop?” Swiss asks as he runs a hand through Dew’s pulled back hair, ruffling his bangs. Dew looks up from where his eyes were glued to the ink and squints at Swiss through glazed eyes. Swiss huffs a laugh at him before he leans forward and runs a claw down Dew’s spine, making the ghoul bite his lip and adjust his legs to arch his back. Swiss watches with a hazed smile as Dew lifts his ass in the air before pushing his face back down into Swiss’ exposed tummy.

“You gonna stay like that?” Swiss asks through a smirk. Dew only gives a grunt in response. Swiss sighs before he hooks his claws under his shirt and pulls it off, exposing his chest as well. Dew peeks up at him and stares. He doesn’t know how he’s shocked each time he sees Swiss’ body. His broad chest and wide shoulders and each scar and blemish and his chest hair and his fucking tits-

“Damn, you’re stoned.” Swiss laughs as he watches Dew stare. Dew glares up at him before lowering his face back into Swiss’ tummy, flicking his tail at Swiss. The multi ghoul watches his spiked tail flick with a hum before he lays back, lip pursed in thought. Dew knows that look. It’s when Swiss has something absolutely evil planned that usually leaves Dew wrecked with the best aftercare of his life. It makes him throb and draws a whine out of him. It’s not exactly intentional on his behalf but at least it lets Swiss know that he needs him badly right now.

Of course Swiss knows. When do they not need each other?

Swiss stares down at him with the same evil look and glazed eyes before he tilts his head at Dew with a droop of his ears, innocent and dangerous for Dew. He folds his arms over his chest, blocking the sight before he hums and pouts his lip at Dew.

“Wanna fuck?” Swiss asks, plain and simple. Dew moves his head up and sneers at Swiss.

“How romantic of you.” Dew says with a roll of his eyes. Before he can even shoot another glare at Swiss, he’s pushing Dew’s head back down into his stomach as he yanks his hair. Dew winces loudly and scrambles for a moment before settling. It’s Swiss. He’s safe.

“Do you even deserve it?” Swiss asks with venom dripping from his tongue. Dew moans into the heat of his skin, knees shaking against the mattress as he looks up at Swiss with pathetic eyes. Swiss hums, pleased with his reaction before he releases the grip on his hair and his face softens. He pats Dew’s head with a frown and a shift in his brows.

“Can I try something, baby?” He asks kindly. Dew knows it’s not a front. He switches like this often to make a mush of Dew’s brains when he fucks him. But this is different. It’s genuine and void of any malice. Dew hates that he feels like he has to ask. Why would Dew say so no when Swiss leaves him in the stars with each touch, no matter how devastatingly haunting on his skin or how ironically heavenly it is?

“Yes, please, anything.” Dew shakes, the tips of his claws poking ever so slightly into Swiss’ waist as he stares up at him with blown pupils. Swiss whines at the sight of Dew and his sweet yes before the grip on his hair returns and he’s yanking Dew up into a hard kiss, clanking their teeth together hard enough to make Dew’s lip bleed. And fuck if it doesn’t make Dew’s eyes roll back into his head and thrust his hips hard into Swiss’ own as he kisses him brainless.

Then it’s over. Dew doesn’t even register that his lips aren’t on Swiss’ anymore until the multi ghoul is pushing his face back into his stomach and placing a hand under Dew’s body, making him arch his back again. Dew groans into Swiss’ skin, trailing his hands back up to palm at Swiss’ stomach again as he buries his face into the now healed ink that screams his name.

He feels Swiss’ tail wrap up around his thigh, slipping under his boxers and out again above the waist band. He curls it there, gripping Dew’s boxers with the limb before he drags them down slowly but desperately. Dew moans when the air hits him, cold against his red hot thighs that are already coated with slick. He adjusts his knees, preparing himself for Swiss to slide under him and eat him out like it’s his last meal on Earth.

Swiss’ hands move down to Dew’s head again, grabbing him by his horns and shoving his face lower. Dew feels his heart skip when he breathes in Swiss’ scent, strong and sickening in this area. He desperately grabs at Swiss’ waistband and fuck him for wearing these gray sweatpants again. He hooks a claw under the waistband with his mouth already watering at the thought of having Swiss in his mouth in mere seconds. Maybe Swiss was thinking of something different. He wouldn’t mind having his throat fucked in this position. The weed dried his mouth out anyways.

Before he can even drag Swiss’ pants down an inch, he feels something hot press against his cunt. Dew tries to register it and turn to see but is swallowed whole by the burn in Swiss’ eyes. He’s staring down at Dew, his massive hands still wrapped around the nubs of Dew’s horns. His eyes are burning red, a sign of his fire element raging through his body. Dew stills as he watches the multi ghoul’s face turn in a way he’s never seen before. It’s new and horrifying. Dew can never ever guess his next move.

Swiss leans down ever so slightly, his pupils sharp as he watches Dew. There’s still something pressing against Dew in between his legs. He’s so high he can’t even think of what it could possibly be. Was Swiss’ knee always so warm? He doesn’t get to dwell on it before Swiss grips his horns and bares his fangs, a threatening look on his face as he stares through Dew’s contrasting eyes and opens his lips to speak.

“Stay.”

Dew can’t even say a word as he feels something push inside him, hot and curled and ridged. It slips inside of Dew and there’s something sliding against his clit with it. Dew’s mouth falls open and his head twitches as his mind urges him to bury his face back into Swiss’ skin and scream. He can’t. Swiss is so locked onto him and holding his gaze prisoner in the palm of his hand. All he can do is let out a moan that doesn’t even register in his own ears. Swiss’ pupils go wide as he does it, expanding so far in his eyes that Dew can barely see the red glow of them anymore.

It’s when whatever is inside of Dew digs deeper and opens him up that Dew can’t take it anymore. He tears his hands away from Swiss’ stomach and grabs his arms, clawing at them as he arches back and slams his face down into Swiss’ body, shouting again as he’s filled.

“Swiss!” Dew cries, squirming under his grasp. Swiss moves his hands to Dew’s own, intertwining them and holding them against Swiss’ chest. The multi ghoul’s heart is beating heavy against his chest as he places Dew’s hands there. Dew whines at it, staring up at Swiss’ with his eyes lidded and almost rolled back in his head.

“Wha-“

“Don’t move.” Swiss whines. “Oh, please don’t fucking move. You’re perfect.” Swiss groans as he bucks his hips up and Dew can feel himself gush slick. It drips down his body and begins to pool onto the sheets, soaking them under Dew.

“Wha-what are you-“ Dew tries again before he feels something thrust inside of him, drawing another cry out of Dew. Swiss reaches down and tugs his pants down, freeing himself at last. His cock slaps against Dew’s face, leaking onto his cheek as the fire ghoul winces at the heat of it against his face.

“It’s-oh fuck-“ Swiss gasps when Dew breathes against him, hot breath circling around his cock. “It’s my tail.” Swiss chokes out.

Dew pauses.

What.

“What?” Dew asks, suddenly not as high as he thought he was.

“Well you were waving yours around and I thought ‘Wouldn’t it be funny?’” Swiss cries as Dew moves against him, making his eyes flutter. “But now I’m just fucking realizing how very much connected my nerve endings on my tail are to my dick.”

Did Mountain fucking lace them? There’s no way a simple joint could pull this thought from Swiss’ mind. Swiss did a lot of crazy shit when he was high but this has to take the fucking cake.

“If you don’t fucking touch me I’m going to just fuck your face myself.” Swiss growls through a moan as he pumps his tail inside of Dew. The twin rings pierced through the spade of his tail slide against Dew from the inside, making his knees shake and almost give in. The so called threat of Swiss face fucking him makes his mind go so blank that he forgets to even answer Swiss.

“Dew, baby.” Swiss whines. “C’mon, give me something.”

Dew can’t even think any comprehensive thoughts right now. He can only bury his face into Swiss’ stomach and weakly wrap his hand around his cock, jerking him with a shaky hand. It’s enough for Swiss. He rolls his head back with a loud curse as he grabs at Dew’s horns again and twists his hands around them. Dew moans weakly at the sensation. This weed is kicking his ass right now. He can feel every twist and curl of Swiss’ tail inside of him. Each slide of the twin rings, the ridges where the length of his tail meets the spade, the slide of the rough skin against his clit as his slick leaks down the thing. It’s somehow worse than Swiss’ stupidly useful piercing on his cock.

“Faster, fuck.” Swiss chokes on his own drool. “Faster, Dew.”

Dew tries. He swears he’s trying to give Swiss more relief but his entire body is quaking as he’s rocked forward by the surprising strength of Swiss’ tail inside of him. He lets his hand fall away from Swiss’ cock and rest on his hip, whining as he buries his face back into the comfortable pudge of Swiss’ tummy. He just wants to lay here until he cums or wakes up or sobers up or just dies.

That’s a bit dramatic. But at this point?

“No, baby, no.” Swiss curses. “Mother fucker.”

“I’m sorry, I-I-“ Dew tries to speak as Swiss thrusts faster in him. “I can’t think.” Dew admits shamefully. He’s never been fucked this stupid so fast. Rain has his way of dumbing him down into a puddle in almost record time but this? Dew just can’t even believe it’s real.

“You’re okay.” Swiss reassures. “Fuck, baby, you’re doing so good.” He coos, running his hands down to cup Dew’s tear stained cheeks. Dew doesn’t even remember when he started crying. It’s all a fog.

“Can I fuck your face?” Swiss asks through a gulp. “Fuck, you’re so pretty like this.”

Dew whines, gripping Swiss’ wrists and nodding. Swiss brings his head up immediately, grabbing his cock and slapping it against Dew’s lips. Dew opens his mouth weakly, taking Swiss in and stretching out his tongue. He unglamoures it as it slides it, long and forked at the end. Swiss moans low in his throat as Dew wraps his tongue around him and gives him a small but reassuring jerk. He shoves himself inside of Dew’s mouth and back into his throat. Satan bless this little ghoul and his lack of a gag reflex. Who would Swiss be without it?

Dew moans as he tastes Swiss, hot in his throat and surprisingly sweet. Dew thinks of cranberries before Swiss’ hands are grabbing his face again and shoving him down to the base of his cock. Dew’s eyes water for a moment as his nose presses into the tuft of curls swirling at the base. Swiss leans up to get a better angle and Dew almost loses the last bit of his sanity as Swiss’ stomach presses against the base of his nose. He’s not sure Swiss’ even realizes how fucking hot that is.

“So fucking good.” Swiss babbles as he begins to fuck into Dew’s throat at a quick pace to match the one he’s set with his tail. His tail is now wrapped around Dew’s thigh, squeezing as he fucks into him with it. Every slide of it inside of Dew makes him want to scream. The slide of Swiss’ tail against his clit doesn’t do him much good either. The sound of Swiss’ tail pulsing in and out of him is what really does it for Dew. It sounds wet and filthy and Dew can’t wait until Swiss does this again in an angle where Dew can watch it slide in and out of him.

Swiss picks up his thrusts, digging himself deeper inside of Dew’s cunt and his throat. He’s close, Dew can tell. The way his nose scrunches up, his labored breathing, the way his left ear keeps flicking with each strangled moan Dew lets out that vibrates against his cock. And, oh fuck, the way his stomach is flexing as he fights it off.

“Gonna cum.” Swiss warns. Dew whines high in his throat as Swiss thrusts faster inside of his cunt and presses harder against his clit. Dew was ready to cum the moment Swiss was inside of him. He moves his arms back and wraps them around Swiss’ thighs, gripping hard at them as he lets Swiss abuse his mouth.

“Fuck, please say you’re close too.” Swiss hisses as his rhythm goes sloppy and fast. He’s losing his composure, clearly seconds away from shooting down Dew’s throat. Dew moves his own tail up, wrapping it around Swiss’ own and squeezing it. His eyes flicker at Swiss and it’s all the multi ghoul needs.

He yanks Dew down into a final thrust, spilling down his throat as he yells Dew’s name like it’s a sin. It’s scorching hot and startles Dew for a moment before he hollows his cheeks around Swiss, yanking his orgasm out of him and drinking it greedily. When his tail digs just an inch deeper inside of Dew, the fire ghoul yanks himself down onto it and buries his face into Swiss’ stomach with a choked cry as his eyes slam shut. He tightens around Swiss’ tail and gushes around him, spraying his tail and Dew’s thighs with cum as it soaks the mattress.

After a second longer, Dew’s knees give in and he falls stomach first onto the wet mattress. Swiss pulls his face away from his stomach, yanking him up into his arms as his tail slides out of Dew. It makes Dew wince and flail, still so overwhelmed by it all. Swiss is kissing him immediately, gentle and warm with the taste of weed still on his tongue. Dew’s hands land on Swiss’ chest, patting him weakly as he tries to breathe.

“Fuck.” Swiss breathes. “Are you okay, baby?” Swiss asks as he adjusts Dew in his arms, cradling him against his chest. “You did so good.” He praises, running a hand down Dew’s spiked back. “You’re so fucking perfect, Dew.”

“What-“ Dew gulps. “the fuck?”

“Are you okay?” Swiss asks again, nudging his nose into Dew’s neck. “Did I hurt you?”

Dew shakes his head. “What the fuck.” He says again.

Swiss kisses his neck, leaving a small little purple glow that seeps into Dew’s skin. It’s his favorite way of transferring quintessence and healing. With gentle little kisses that warm someone up like hot coco.

“Fine, ‘m fine.” Dew breathes. “I’m okay.”

Swiss nuzzles his neck again, purring loud enough for Dew to feel it. He kisses his skin senselessly, pouring quintessence into him. He grabs one of Dew’s hands and drags it down to his stomach, pressing Dew’s warm palm into his skin.

Dew preens at it, feeling his own purr jump to life as he squeezes Swiss’ tummy. Swiss begins to kitten lick Dew’s face, placing warm kisses against his cheeks. “So sweet.” Swiss hums, kissing the corner of his eye before he rubs their cheeks together with a chuff.

“Stop that.” Dew scolds. Swiss pauses before he pushes Dew back, climbing over him as he presses his head into Dew’s stomach and blows raspberries. Dew shrieks, kicking at him with a laugh as he yanks on Swiss’ horns.

“Swiss!” Dew laughs, breathless again.

#my art #ghost bc #the band ghost #swiss ghoul #swiss army ghoul #multi ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #sodo ghoul #fire ghoul #okay so.#THIS HAS BEEN IN MY GOOGLE DOCS FOR SO LOOOOONG 💀#enjoy 🫶 s/o miasma for inspiring me to finish this thanks legend #k bye 😼🤞

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conchcronch · 9 months ago

Text

Pretend I’m Someone Else

Zoro x Sanji

Zoro is just trying to help his fellow crewmate…

NSFW below the cut

Sanji hisses through his teeth, his hand lubricated by the precum that’s beading down his angry pink head. He’s been at this for what seems like hours, but he just can’t reach his peak. Frustration is building to the point where his arms feel tense and there’s a restlessness running through his entire body. It’s been months since he’s felt someone else’s hands, since he’s held someone, kissed someone. Normally that fact made tasks like this fairly quick, but today it seems impossible. He grinds his teeth together, letting go of his painfully hard cock to reach for the crumpled cigarette box on the far end of his nightstand. With a flick of his thumb and the quiet sizzle of the cigarette his nerves begin to calm, tipping his head against the wall behind his cot.

He could hear the crew out on the deck, celebrating like they haven’t been at sea for weeks with no sign of land. Normally Sanji could handle these long stints at sea, but something about this time was really making it difficult, he was becoming antsy. The cigarette dangling between his lips, he moved so he had his back against the wall with his blanket draped over his naked lap. He tried to start again.

He closed his eyes, rubbing one hand down his neck slowly, down over his collarbones while the other scratched dully at his thigh beneath the blanket. He tried to forcefully bring back memories of his last fling, but the details were fuzzy since it had been so long. He had met her at a market…or had it been a bar. He shook his head, knowing he was going to get caught up on the specifics instead of just getting an image that could get him off.

He remembered the way she had whined into his chest as he fingered her at the back of a bar, his eyes scanning the crowd to make sure no one caught on to them. She smelt like cheap beer and pungent perfume that was probably meant to smell like roses but really just smelt like chemicals. But the way her big lips had ran over his neck made it all worth it. She had a babydoll face but had been older than he originally thought when he bought her a drink from across the bar, not that he really cared, all women were princesses in his eyes. She had dragged him by the tie to a room at the back of the bar after cumming on his fingers, making sounds that until this moment he had not realized were clearly very practiced. She had taken off her corset and hiked up her skirt before climbing on top of him while he was seated on an unpleasantly lumpy couch. He remembered wanting this to have been better, wanting to be able to take his time, to worship any woman who allowed him to lay his eyes on their bare form. But instead she had ridden him to an underwhelming but necessary orgasm, only having enough time to draw a nipple into his mouth and suck on it until he was brought over the edge much too quickly with an erratic pace.

He huffed, accepting that this wasn’t going to work. He banged his head lightly against the wall behind him. He took his hand off his cock, wiping it on his blue blanket before rubbing at his face with both hands, letting out a frustrated groan.

“Someone’s pi-“ Zoro froze in the doorway, slowly taking in the scene before him. Zoro was a lot of things, brash, quick to get lost, dense, garish, and more often than not belligerent, but even with a few glasses of sake in him he could still put the pieces together of what he had walked in on.

Sanji was too frustrated to really care, stubbing the butt of his cigarette out on the ash trash sitting on his bedside table before looking up at the man who clearly didn’t know if he should give the cook more private time or poke fun at him. Zoro watched as the cook squirmed a bit to reposition himself before laying down, his head dropping onto the pillow heavier than normal. Sanji knew that the other man got a clear view of the outline of his painfully hard cock as he rolled over to face the wall but he didn’t think anything of it, closing his eyes in hopes that it would go down on its own decently soon so he could get at least a few hours of sleep. “Can you at least turn off the light?” Sanji grumbled when he didn’t hear the swordsman move.

“I can leave you al-“

“Doesn’t matter, it’s not happening.” He clenched his jaw when he heard Zoro’s stupid laugh as the door closed behind him.

“Aw poor little pervert can’t get it up?” He heard Zoro walk throughout the shared room, his boots heavy on the wood floorboards. The lights flicked off and he heard Zoro kick off his boots, followed by the sound of his cargo pants hitting the floor, likely followed by his shirt before he climbed into his bunk on top of Sanji’s.

Sanji was so close to falling asleep when he felt Zoro shift enough that the whole bed wiggled before he heard his voice. “Are you still hard?” The question made Sanji clench his teeth, grinding them together in irritation.

“The fuck does it matter?!” He bit back, his frustration getting the better of him, knowing he was just fueling the other man to keep irritating him.

“Just askin’, no need to get your panties in a twist.” He could imagine the swordsman laying there without a care in his mossy brain, just looking for any fuel to ignite the flames of irritation in the other man. Sanji can’t see it but Zoro has a slight grin and is very slowly running a large hand over his growing erection. “Do you want help?” There was a very long beat of silence in the room, and if Zoro didn’t know the cook as well as he does he almost would have thought he had fallen asleep. But he knew Sanji better than that. He knew he was lying below him questioning everything, playing out every possible way this scenario could go.

“Fuck off,” Sanji finally said, his voice lacking the bite that Zoro came to expect.

“Fine.” They fall silent again, Zoro’s hand having reached into his boxers to grip his erection firmly, moving his hand slowly up and down his shaft as his own sexual frustration was beginning to bubble over the surface. Zoro had gotten very good at forcing his sexual needs as deep as he could, opting to focus on his training above all else. But these long times at sea were taxing to say the least.

He wasn’t one to make a big deal about going out to get laid, he was confident none of the crew even noticed on the nights he would go off to a tavern or alley just to find someone that could give him a half decent finish. He had seen Sanji once, had seen the way he tried to secretly finger some chick that Zoro was fairly sure was a prostitute before being dragged to the back room. When Sanji had gotten led out of sight that’s when Zoro began scanning the crowd for someone easy, someone who didn’t need a lot of effort, someone loose both morally and physically. He had spotted a slender man who was giving him eyes from the second he spotted the swordsman. Zoro didn’t really have a type, never wanting to put in the work to pick and choose when all he was really looking for was a decent fuck. But he did know what he liked, a narrow waist that he could grab, someone smaller than him to manhandle easily and the longer the legs the better. But those weren’t his type, or at least that’s what he kept telling himself. He had made quick work of inviting the man outside, leading him to an alley beside the bar where he pressed him against the stone wall. The rest was uneventful in Zoro’s eyes, they both came and that was all that really mattered.

He was brought out of his sorry excuse for a fantasy by Sanji’s voice from the bed below him. “You weren’t serious…” There was a pause, Zoro almost answered but stopped when he heard a quiet, “were you?”

“Yeah I was.” His cock jumped in his hand, hoping Sanji would actually take him up on his offer, his mouth practically watering at the thought. But the longer the silence stretched between them, the more Zoro tried to shift his focus from the man below him to his own erection. His eyes close and it isn’t until he hears a breathy curse from under him that he sits up and tucks his cock back into his boxers. He jumps off the bed, catching himself on the balls of his feet, clearly catching the cook by surprise. One knee is bent and it’s clear he’s stroking his cock from the way his shoulder is moving. Zoro locks eyes with the man, smiling a bit when the arm that had frozen at first slowly begins to move again, followed by a frustrated groan. “Do you want me to help you?” Zoro asks with a sly grin, his hand grabbing the blue blanket but not moving it. He watches as Sanji’s eyes close, catching his lower lip between his teeth as he nods.

Zoro doesn’t need more than that. He pulls the blanket off, letting it fall at his feet before he moves onto the narrow bed. Sanji is a vision in his own right, his long legs splayed out completely bare under the discarded blanket. Zoro had seen him naked plenty of times, but something about the way he’s under him, the way he sees Sanji’s eyes scan over him in the same way he is. Zoro was quick to break his focus and shift between Sanji’s long legs, even going as far as to throw one over his shoulder just because. He laid flat on his belly between Sanji’s legs, biting at his inner thigh getting progressively closer to his angry looking erection.

The feeling of Zoro’s breath this close to his pulsing cock was almost enough to make him cum. But the sight of the green hair between his legs made his stomach churn, to the point where he grabbed at the man’s hair, pretending his cock didn’t just leap at the groan of pleasure from the swordsman. “I-I can’t,” Sanji was looking everywhere other than the man, who was allowing himself to be held up by his hair as he watched the way Sanji covered his face with one hand. “I’m not…Not with you…I’m sorry.” Zoro leaned back, pulling his hair from the chef’s long fingers.

“I don’t give a shit, Curly, I was just offerin’ to make things easier on both of us. Unlike you, I don’t have issues finishing.” He couldn’t resist the urge to rub his cock through the fabric of his boxers, unable to hold back the heavy breath that fell from his lips. Sanji’s eyes peeked from between his fingers at the man between his legs, who was currently touching himself in such a way that Sanji was seriously considering this. The way the muscles in his forearms moved under the tan and scarred skin drew him in a way Sanji had never quite experienced before. His eyes scanned down his arm, hand on the covered member gripping it firmly, if the lighting had been better he was sure he’d see a wet spot where his cock head was sandwiched between the fabric and his lower belly.

Zoro was thriving off of Sanji’s stare, the way he subconsciously licked his lips as he stared directly at his crotch sent a thrill through his whole body. He bucked his hips into his hand which was now fully jerking himself off through the thin material, a groan falling from his lips which seemed to snap the blonde from his trance.

“Just seeing you-“ He paused, trying to choose his words carefully, suddenly very aware of where his gaze had landed for so long and then trying to overcompensate by looking everywhere but Zoro. “Seeing you down there it’s just weird.” Zoro laughed, he laughed as though Luffy had just told a dumb joke.

“Trust me, I don’t much like the idea of lookin’ up and seein’ your ugly mug.” Sanji’s eyebrow twitched in frustration but when he saw Zoro’s free hand reaching forward to grab his cock and he allowed it. A deep guttural moan burst from his lips as soon as his big hand wrapped around his member. “But sometimes you gotta’ blow off steam no matter who’s offerin’.” Zoro’s eye looked up, trapping Sanji’s gaze as he slowly began to stroke his cock, smiling when he saw the way the chef’s head tipped back and a whine slipped out. “This is just an exchange of services, nothing more. Pretend I’m someone else.” Sanji nodded even though his eyes were still weighed shut as his hips began bucking forward to meet every one of Zoro’s strokes.

When Sanji feels Zoro’s hot mouth encircle his head he barely manages to stifle the cry that wants to burst forth. Zoro works more of his shaft into his mouth with each bob, Sanji tries to focus on something, something to feed the fantasy he’s piecing together behind his lids. It takes next to no time before Zoro is swallowing his entire length each time, one hand going from his shaft to his balls, stimulating them in the way only someone who has them would know how to. His other hand is supporting Sanji’s leg that’s over his shoulder, the pads of his fingers digging into the muscle of his thigh. It takes everything Sanji has to fight his instinct to run his fingers through his partner’s hair, to run down the back of their neck and over their shoulders, knowing what he finds is going to be much different then what he’s trying to imagine. With a long breath Sanji focuses, trying to ignore the occasional moan from the man between his thighs and instead on the sound of the swordsman’s earrings clinking together with each bob of his head.

All his attention is honed in on the metallic sound of those three gold drops colliding with one another and the way his hot mouth feels surrounding his cock, the way Sanji is sure he can feel his head nudge aside the swordsman’s uvula with each swallow. Zoro on the other hand was cock drunk, every one of his senses was drowning in Sanji. All he could smell was his musk, the remnants of his cologne, and just a hint of nicotine. All smells that Zoro had always hated, every single one of them had brought him nothing but irritation from the moment he smelt them on every average day, yet today. Today they drove him wild.

He had lied to Sanji earlier, the sight above him only proved to make his hips rut into the mattress they were both on. The way the cook’s abs tightened each time he swallowed his full cock, and the way his hand kept running over his chest, pausing for a fraction of a second to graze over his left nipple. Zoro saw it all, saw where he unconsciously touched to give himself pleasure. He took note of the way Sanji tipped his head to one side, his right hand snaking around his neck to draw feather light shapes along the side of his throat. “Z-Zoro” The words fell from his lips like a plea before being muffled by Sanji clearing his throat, suddenly very aware of his voice. “Zoro” He said firmly this time. The swordsman looked up, hoping it seemed like he hadn’t already been looking up. He was breathless, and when Zoro didn’t stop his bobbing even while maintaining eye contact he felt those long fingers yank his hair again, guiding him off his member. Zoro begrudgingly released his cock, a line of saliva connecting his lip to his head.

“What,” Zoro asked bluntly, sitting up on his knees and rubbing at his painfully hard erection that was straining at the flimsy fabric.

“I can do the rest.” Zoro scoffed at Sanji’s words.

“You couldn't before, what makes you think you can now?”

“I don’t want to accidentally…” Sanji’s voice faded off, in hopes Zoro would get it, and even if he knew exactly what the blonde was trying to say he wasn’t going to let that on. He shrugged, his grip tightening on his cock when he watched Sanji’s own hand wrap around his member. “I don’t want to accidentally finish in your mouth.” Zoro laughed, releasing his own cock from his hand and resuming his position between the cook’s legs.

“Just do it already.” Sanji noticed the way Zoro humped the bed, the way he greedily swallowed his cock with a longing moan. Part of him was going to comment, even going as far as to question if this was something he had wanted but the words died before they made it to his throat, forced away by the moans that replaced them. Sanji tangled his fingers in the swordsman’s short hair, no longer caring as he guided the man’s head up and down his length at the same speed as his hammering heart. Zoro threw Sanji’s other leg over his shoulder, almost cumming when he felt the thighs squeeze his head seconds before his mouth was filled. Never before had Zoro swallowed someone’s cum as gluttonously as he did in this moment. Every rope was quickly gulped back, his suction becoming almost painful for Sanji as his orgasm tapered out. Only then did Zoro pull back, lapping a long strip from the base to the head before he sat up, looking down at the completely limp man below him.

Zoro couldn’t resist the painful throb of his long neglected cock, trying his best to keep it at bay with his firm strokes overtop his boxers. He loved the way Sanji was completely out, his eyes almost glassy and his lips chapped. When the blonde still hadn’t moved by the time the ache in his balls was becoming too much, the green haired man moved to get off the bunk with the intention of going to finish himself off in the washroom, but he was stopped by a tired hand on the outside of his large thigh as he stood beside the bunk. Looking back to see Sanji’s brows were knit closely together, concern on his exhausted face. Zoro froze, unsure of what the blonde wanted but his patience was waning with every throb of his cock. “You said-“ His voice was hoarse, he cleared it in hopes of sounding more clear. “You said, an exchange of services.” He emphasized the plural and the swordsman shrugged.

“M’ not gonna’ hold you to it. I can finish myself.” Obviously he wanted something in return, he wanted to feel Sanji’s hands on him, wanted to feel his lips on his body, but he also only wanted that if Sanji wanted that. Zoro was a lot of things, but that wasn’t his style. The blonde’s hand didn’t move, in fact his nail bit into the tanned flesh of Zoro’s thigh. “Ow, what do you want?” He tried to cling onto the irritation, masking the hope he knew would be in his voice.

“I want to return the favor.” Zoro’s gaze was intense, scanning the blonde’s face for any signs of…anything really. “I haven’t done it before.” As if Sanji needed to say that, but Zoro wasn’t going to say that. He hadn’t had his dick sucked in what felt like months and if he had a straight guy who was willing to do the task, who was he to risk ruining it.

“I can teach you.” The words left his mouth before he had fully processed what he was offering, but to his surprise he watched as the blonde sat up and turned so his legs were over the edge of the bed.

“How do you want me?” Sanji had no idea the effect those words had on the man in front of him. And thankfully his boxers were there to hide the way his cock jumped.

“On your knees.” A chill coursed down Sanji’s spine, the words making his knees feel weak and blood slowly diverge back down to his cock as he slid off the bed and onto his knees in front of his crewmate. Zoro crouched in front of Sanji so they were eye to eye, he reached forward and guided his mouth open, the chef was completely placid in his grasp. He ran his fingers over his bottom lip before slowly sliding his thumb along the chef’s tongue. He slid his thumb all the way back until he felt the curve of where his tongue ends and his throat begins, amazed the man hadn’t gagged. “Good.” He couldn’t stop the praise, and Sanji couldn’t repress the whine that followed. Zoro took his time pulling his thumb out of the man’s mouth, allowing him to close his jaw all while maintaining perfect eye contact. “You’ll have no issue taking me.” A warmth bloomed in Sanji’s chest and continued to blossom as Zoro took his face in his big hands, his fingers brushing over all the points he had seen Sanji touch while he was going down on him, enjoying the sighs it produced.

Zoro pushed himself to stand, pushed his boxes off his hips and stepped out of them, kicking them somewhere behind him. He was quick to wrap a hand around his cock, stroking it slowly as he watched Sanji look up at him with wide eyes. He used his free hand to run his fingers through the blonde’s hair, loving the way he relaxed into his touch. He reached further down, drawing Sanji’s body up from his slouched position so he could reach his cock with ease. Zoro released his cock from his grasp, nearly hitting Sanji’s nose.

Zoro expected some resistance, some hesitation but was surprised when he felt the man’s lips on his head almost immediately. His hands were immediately on the swordsman’s thighs, running up and down the muscles as he sucked experimentally. Zoro had to cover his mouth with his hand to stop the needy moan that was fighting to escape as one of Sanji’s hands began to stroke his shaft. Zoro so badly wanted to tell him exactly what to do, how he wanted him to open his jaw wider so he could take more of his cock, how he needed him to let those skilled hands wander wherever they pleased, but he resisted. He watched as the cook slowly began to take more of him in his mouth, being very mindful to cover his bottom teeth with his lip, his eyes closed and brows furrowed as he concentrated.

Zoro forced himself to lower the hand that was cupped over his mouth, finally getting used to the near forgotten feeling of someone’s mouth on his cock. He allowed his hand to run through the blonde’s hair again, immediately catching the way Sanji’s blue eyes looked up, the bobbing of his head becoming more rhythmic as he took a bit more of him each time. “You’re doing so good.” Zoro could feel Sanji’s moan around his cock as he managed to swallow all of him for the first time. Zoro couldn’t stifle the moan when he felt the back of Sanji’s throat for the briefest of seconds. Sanji pulled all the way off his cock, his breath coming in puffs and his lips shiny with his own spit. Zoro would be lying if he said he wasn’t close, and seeing the blonde on his knees in front of him with precum smudged on his cheek wasn’t helping.

“Can you sit on the bed?” Sanji’s voice was rough, even a little bit raw. Zoro didn’t say anything, instead opting to take a step to the side so he could sit on the edge of the bed, his legs open wide enough that the blonde could easily fit. He was quick to crawl between his knees, his hands immediately running up Zoro’s thighs to his waist and moving in close enough that his lips could press against his chest. “Can I kiss you?” Sanji asked as he trailed kisses along the swordsman’s collarbone.

“Y-yeah” the question caught Zoro entirely off guard and he prayed that the other man couldn’t hear how his heartbeat quickened. Sanji immediately grabbed the back of his head, their lips meeting in an oddly passionate kiss. Probably the most passionate kiss Zoro had ever experienced. Sanji slowly got to his feet, keeping his hands on either side of the green haired man’s face as he did so. Zoro instinctively grabbed the man’s narrow waist, leaning back onto the bed and lifting Sanji to straddle his waist with ease. If Sanji hesitated at any point in the position change, he didn’t show it. His lips never parted from Zoro’s, but rather the kiss deepened. Their tongues sliding along each other’s, Sanji’s fingers running through the other’s hair noticing the way Zoro groans anytime he tugs at the short green locks. Zoro’s hands slid down Sanji’s waist, snaking around to dig his blunt nails into the meat of his toned rear, smiling into the kiss when he felt Sanji rut against him.

Zoro shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was to feel that the chef was hard once again. Zoro left one hand on the chef’s ass and brought the other to grab a fist full of blonde locks, catching the way the other man whined when he tugged just a bit.

Sanji had never really expected being with another man to feel so normal. He loved how Zoro was able to lift and throw him around, something he had never experienced. The way Zoro’s big hands felt on his waist, on his neck, gods, in his hair. Sanji was rutting against the other man’s cock, loving the way they ground together.

“Are you going to finish what you started?” Zoro asked, gripping the blonde’s hair still, pulling his head to the side in order to nip at his long neck. He felt Sanji nod against his grasp but only tightened his fist signaling that that wasn’t a good enough answer. The hand that had been gripping Sanji’s ass moved around to wrap around his weeping cock, pumping it at an excruciatingly slow pace.

“Y-yes” He was barely able to get the word out, each throb of his cock was almost painful and the slow pace of Zoro’s hand wasn’t helping in the least.

“Maybe if you’re good,” Zoro squeezed Sanji’s shaft, producing a strangled whine from him. “I’ll return the favor…again” Zoro released his cock and allowed him to slip off his lap and back down between his large thighs. The apprehension Sanji had had earlier in their encounter was replaced with unbridled lust. There was no hesitation in the way Sanji hungrily swallowed Zoro’s cock, it took every ounce of his resilience to not cum the second he felt the cook’s uvula drag along his shaft. But when Sanji gently cupped his heavy balls, tugging on them ever so gently, Zoro knew he wouldn’t last nearly as long as he wanted to. “Cook” Zoro managed to growl out from between his clenched teeth, hoping his tone would warn the other man.

But instead, the man between his legs doubled down. Hollowing out his cheeks and using his hand to stroke his shaft any time his mouth pulled back. Zoro couldn’t stop his hips from bucking to meet every bob, his hand tangled in the blonde’s hair, manipulating him to move at exactly the pace he wanted. He could feel Sanji moan around his cock, could feel the way his tongue lapped at his head like it was the best tasting food he had ever made. He wanted to warn him, to tell him he was going to cum. Normally he would yank the person’s head off so he could paint their face instead but by the time the thought crossed his mind it was what sent him over the edge. Sanji swallowed his cock completely, every spurt of cum going right down his throat while he kept sucking hard enough to milk him dry. It wasn’t until Zoro made a sound that could only be described as weak that he pulled off.

Zoro laid back on the bed, grip on Sanji’s hair releasing and his arm thrown over his eyes as he tried to catch his breath. Sanji remained in place between the swordsman’s thighs, half unsure what else to do and the other half hoped he could do it again. The fact that he was the reason Zoro made all those sounds, from the growls to the whines gave Sanji an overwhelming feeling of pride, something he rarely felt. Despite his own cock pulsing painfully between his legs, he pushed himself up, taking this moment of vulnerability to press kisses up the larger man’s body. Each kiss was met with a huff from him, until Sanji finally pressed a kiss to his lips, smiling when Zoro immediately tried to deepen it.

“You liked it.” Zoro’s voice was rougher then normal, the words slipping out between kisses. He wrapped his arm around Sanji’s narrow waist, keeping him pressed against himself.

The cook opted to stay quiet and for once in his life, Zoro didn’t push. The larger man ran his calloused hands up and down Sanji’s back, both hands lingering on his ass each time, idolly toying with the meat as he came down from his high.

It wasn’t until he felt Sanji try to rut against him that he became overly aware of the hard length that was sandwiched between their stomachs. “Seriously? Again?” He was met with an embarrassed whine as Sanji rubbed his face against Zoro’s chest, his hips bucking against him. “You’re very greedy” The swordsman carded a hand through his blonde hair before closing his fist and pulling his head back so he could see the watery blue eyes of the cook.

“I-It’s just been-“

”Yeah yeah I know, it’s been a long time.” Zoro mimicked, the blonde whining at his mocking tone, his cock somehow hardening even more. ”I’m gonna need more from you this time, Curly.” He watched as he tried to nod against the hold Zoro maintained on his hair. Zoro decided to try something, something he had been wanting to do probably since the cook had joined their crew however long ago that was. He swiftly slapped the meat of the man’s ass, watching as a long and clearly startled moan fell from his sore looking lips. “Well well well” Sanji’s face burned, knowing there was no way he could explain his way out of that sound in his current state. Zoro did it again, met this time with a sound that made it very clear that Sanji was trying to hold back his moan, making Zoro spank him even harder. The swordsman wished they were in another position so he could see how the muscle of the chef’s rear moved when he slapped it, he hoped it would jiggle the same way a chick’s did but he also knew Sanji had more muscle then the average person.

“I-I can’t- I can’t!” Sanji was barely able to get those two words out of his mouth, his breath coming in puffs.

“What do you want?” Zoro whispered, letting his grip go so Sanji collapsed into his chest.

“Anything” Zoro shook his head, his hand rubbing over Sanji’s cheek that was sure to be red.

“Not good enough.” Sanji whined into his chest before squirming so he was straddling Zoro’s wide thighs and rutting against the swordsman’s now sore erection; he didn’t fight to stifle the groan that fell out as Sanji’s cock dragged along his own.

“Use your words.” Zoro’s hands were on his waist, guiding him at a steady pace to bring him closer to another orgasm.

“I-“ Sanji took a shaky breath as he sat up fully, the sight of Zoro lying beneath him somehow made his cock jump, a feeling that in the moment he was accrediting to heat of the moment but he was sure to overthink when the lights were off and he was alone in his bed once more. Zoro let go of Sanji’s waist, moving to grab his hand and bringing it down to his mouth, the cook’s eyes never leaving the man’s actions. Once Sanji’s hand was underneath his mouth, Zoro sat up a little and spit into his hand, but before the cook could protest too much he guided his cupped palm down to their cocks. Sanji was able to put two and two together, even if it took a bit longer than normal, and wrapped his hand around both of their cocks. The spit, while a disgusting concept, made their cocks slide together perfectly, a feeling Sanji had never expected to experience and even less expected to enjoy. Zoro no longer wanted to play this game of cat and mouse, he wanted to give into the pleasure that was taking over his whole body. “Next time, I won’t be so generous.” His voice was breathier than he’d admit, and he could tell Sanji was too cock drunk to really process his words he just nodded as he tipped his head back to moan.

In most circumstances, Zoro would have felt a sense of pride seeing the size difference of his cock to another man’s but all he could focus on was how badly he wanted Sanji’s inside of him. Watching the hypnotic way he moved his hand up and down their shafts was ushering Zoro closer to that edge, the way he flicked his wrist every time he moved his hand up, how he rubs his thumb over both of their heads to gather more slick had Zoro moaning loudly and without thought as to who’s around. “Fuck, god that’s good” Zoro barely managed to groan out, wanting to tip his head back but also not wanting to look away, the way Sanji’s hips buck forward every so often was possibly one of the hottest things he had seen tonight.

“T-Too loud, s-shut up” Words that Sanji normally would have said with more venom behind it, instead came out whiny as he covered Zoro’s mouth with his free hand.

This is what sent Zoro crashing over the edge, a burst of cum erupting from his cock, his hips bucking as rope after rope coated his own chest, even going as high as the base of his neck. Sanji wasn’t far behind him, his cum splattering over Zoro’s face as he moaned breathy praises, his hand still moving along both of their cocks, despite Zoro’s overstimulated moans.

Sanji finally released their cocks from his sweaty and sticky grasp, using the hand that was over Zoro’s mouth to support his body against the man’s large chest. Both of them were panting, eyes closed as they both came down from their orgasms.

Sanji was the first to open his eyes, the sight of Zoro underneath him, lines of cooling cum dripping down his lips and chin was almost enough to get the cook hard again. But Sanji fights back the thoughts of how good Zoro looks painted with his cum and opts to grab the blanket that was tossed aside what feels like hours ago and moves to start wiping the swordsman’s face.

As Sanji wipes the first line from his chin, he watches as Zoro sleepily opens his eye and licks at the cum that was dripping onto his lips before the cook can clean it up, watching in amusement as Sanji sputters for words. “You better not get hard again.” He manages a lazy smile but doesn’t miss the blush that works its way to the tips of Sanji’s ears. Once all the cum is gone from Zoro’s chest and face he gets out of Sanji’s bed and climbs up to his own bed, an exhausted quiet filling the room.

“Zoro,” Sanji cringes at how loud his voice sounds in the silent room. Zoro grunts in response, the bed shaking slightly as he repositions. They fall silent again as Sanji tries to choose his next words. “T-this can stay between us, right?” He hears the man above him huff out a laugh,

“Yeah Curly, it’ll stay between us.” Sanji nods, even though he knows the other man can’t see him.

“Thank you” Sanji wasn’t sure what he was saying thank you for, whether it was for keeping it between them, or if it was for the acts themselves. Regardless, Sanji was finally able to drift off to sleep, the tenseness that had been filling his extremities the last time he had laid in the bed was gone and instead he was filled with bliss. Bliss that tomorrow was likely to be replaced by questions, so many questions, but in this moment he slipped underneath the veil of sleep finally.

#one piece smut #ao3 author #ao3 #one piece #sanji x zoro #sanji smut #zoro smut

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nonameonlyflowers · 2 months ago

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17/01/25

Another 6k words done (w/o coding/choices). It’s going decently for now, which kinda worries me…

More previews under the cut.

Going places

The farther away from the city and the closer to the border, the more the sights changed.

Gone was the ever-present greenery, now only contained to the lone fields and walled estates on the banks of canals and rivers. The ground under your horses’ hooves turned dry and sandy, their steps raising clouds of dust into the air. The dust was soon everywhere - on your clothes, hair, and skin. You were breathing it in with the air and taking it in with your food.

On the last stop before you would’ve reached your destination you bent down on the bank of a river branch, washing the ever-present grey hue off your skin. The same dark, dusty, rocky ground stretched in all directions, black silhouettes of what should’ve been the guardian towers outlined against the horizon to the north.

Local legends

#Stubbornly continue to listen.

“…and he ordered that her body be ripped apart by the horses,” the priest finished. "Her blood spilled over the once-fertile fields, and nothing grew there anymore, so the place became known by it’s current name: “the fortress of dead flowers.” He looked up at you, smiling. “Did you like the story?”

“Is this really a history scroll?” You squinted at it, but couldn’t make anything out. Was he pulling your leg?

“Believe it or not, it is. Why, can’t I not have my hobbies? Do you think I spend the entire time praying?” No, in fact, you didn’t think you saw him praying once. “Do you know how rich is the history of–”

“I get it, I get it, backing off.” You stepped back, raising your hands up into the air. Ash, you could take a hint.

New faces

“Let me start off by saying that I don’t know anything, either,” she stated, her attention still on the horse, which was happily pushing its head further into her palm. Right. She would’ve overheard your conversation with the priest…

“Alright. Let’s talk about something else, then.” Perhaps you could glean something from the conversation either way?

“If you wish.” She paused. “Nice weather we’re having today, don’t you think? Very… dusty.” You caught just the slightest hint of distaste in her last words.

Your gaze swept over the sunbaked wasteland around you, ending down on your own boots - indeed grey from the dust.

“I don’t like dust.” You frowned. “It sure gets everywhere.”

“Indeed.” The acolyte sighed. She finally raised her head to look at you; a calm, steady look. “Now what was it that you wanted to ask, if not about the mission?”

#interactive fiction #writing update #pol: preview

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thatguyfromforest · 1 year ago

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Mammon looked around.

This is one of the few evenings when the whole family gathered in one room. Lucifer did not write his endless papers, Levi did not watch the next anime marathon, Asmo did not go to a party, Satan did not close himself in the library, Beel did not stay late for training and Belphie did not sleep (well, almost did not sleep).

The topic of conversation was changing every minute, everyone was involved and it seemed that nothing could be better. The TV was hissing softly behind him, a pleasant warmth was coming from the fireplace, causing drowsiness. Mc was here too. She sat opposite him between the twins, stroked Belphie's hair, who had fallen asleep on her lap, carefully passed packs of snacks to Beel and smiled.

Oh, whatever Mammon would do for that smile. Whatever he would do to wake up seeing that smile, fall asleep next to her and so on from day to day.

You're the love of my life.

"Didn't you recently write a diploma for the university?" Lucifer asked, and all attention turned to Mc. She smiled guiltily, as if she had done something wrong and lowered her gaze.

"Exactly! I remember what you said about it" Asmo nodded and moved closer.

"How did it go? What do you think to do with this next?" - Satan closed the book and turned to Mc, waiting for an answer. But for some reason she was silent. She was still smiling and looking at the floor. Mammon felt uncomfortable for some reason.

And most importantly, why does no one but him pay attention to this change of atmosphere? Why is she silent? What's wrong? She didn't pass? Or she's going to...

"Mc" he called. "what do you want to do next? Will you leave us? Will you leave me?"

The room went cold in an instant. He blinked and now it was just him and Mc in the room. There was no fire in the fireplace, no TV, no one nearby. Just the two of them. She still had her hand in her lap, as if Belphie was still lying there.

"This is cruel Mammon" she whispered "It's not even fair"

"What ya talkin' about?"

She looked up at him, still with the same faint smile.

Now this smile did not bring happiness to his soul.

Only cold fear.

"I've been dead for a long time Mammon. I have no future, I left it in this house. There is only the past in which I can't breathe"

Mammon blinked again and now there was no one in the room but him. He jumped to his feet and looked around. Something is missing. Something's wrong. Where did everyone go? Mc?

His trembling legs led him towards her room by themselves. The step turned into a run, and he could no longer notice that her drawings, which she gave to the brothers, were missing from the walls, her little garden was not visible from the window, and there were no cute pink slippers at the entrance.

He opened the door with such a bang that it seemed the whole Devildom heard it. Moonlight illuminated the outlines of the room, covered with a century-old layer of dust. No one has been here for years. But how so, Mc went out of here to hang out with them, he saw for himself.

This is some kind of joke. Another failed prank by Belphie and Satan over Lucifer.

Mammon went into the room, trying not to make unnecessary sounds, as if he could disturb someone. The bed is neatly made, notebooks are stacked on the table, empty flower pots are on the window. It's the same as always, except...

Neatly standing vase on the shelf. In the corner, almost invisible. Mammon didn't remember her.

The realization came only when he opened the lid and looked inside.

Ashes.

****

Mammon inhaled so hard that his chest ached. His eyes were open, but his vision was hazy, he could not even see the ceiling of the bedroom. He almost fell off the bed, but managed to roll over and immediately grabbed his throat. It was as if water had been poured into his lungs, he could not take a single breath.

It is not true. It is not true. It is not true. It is not—

He jumped out of bed and immediately collapsed on the floor. His legs refused to obey him, but Mammon forced himself to stand up. Not seeing where he was running, he just trusted his instincts. A long-learned path.

The house was quiet, as well as behind the door of her room. He opened it, not caring about the silence. He went straight to the bed and only then was able to exhale.

Mc was lying there, wrapped in a huge blanket like a caterpillar. She sniffed softly and made a funny whistling sound with her nose. His legs betrayed him, and Mammon collapsed to the floor, having managed to catch on the edge of the bed. From a thud, Mc stirred, mumbled something and removed her hair from her face.

Mammon grinned nervously and immediately put his hand over his mouth. He didn't care that he could wake her up, just another second and he wouldn't be able to restrain the hysteria that was bursting out of his throat.

"Mammon?..." came a soft whisper from the bed. Mammon shifted his gaze and felt tears flowing down his cheeks. Mc sleepily rubbed her eyes and looked puzzled at the night guest. "Mammon, what happened? Why are you crying—"

He did not let her finish, throwing all his weight on her, wrapping his arms and legs around her body. Mc let out a small squeak of surprise, but immediately quieted down when she felt Mammon's shaking.

"It's okay. I've got you. I'm here."

"Yes," he sobbed "you're here. I beg... Please, always be here... Don't ever leave me..."

****

All the next morning Mammon did not move away from Mc more than two steps, which was not surprising, but he was so quiet that all brothers thought about another curse had been put on him.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #obey me mc #obey me! mammon #om! mammon #obey me angst #obey me hurt/comfort #Obey me f!mc #obey me headcanons #obey me mammon x mc

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monstersandmaw · 1 year ago

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Monsters & Maw Patreon returns 21st October, with a Dullahan story in time for Halloween!

Extract:

A mist on Samhain night coiled its curious fingers through the hawthorn hedgerows and carded the bone-pale grasses along the verge with gentle, sighing caresses. At the fulcrum of the year, when the last warmth of summer had truly faded, and the biting maw of winter had yet to show its teeth, you came truly alive for a precious few weeks.

You sighed around a smile, softly sweeping the birch bristles of the broom back and forth across the flagstone that marked the entrance to your cottage, and hoped to sweep away the bad luck that seemed to have gathered like choking dust in all the corners of your life that year. You were ready for the restorative stillness that winter would bring, but you weren’t quite ready to let go of the bounty of a rich autumn either.

That afternoon, you’d set your carved Jack o’ Lantern grinning on the step, and you’d given your private remembrances to the recently departed. You’d walked sunwise round your house with a bough of smouldering fir to cleanse the space with smoke, and you’d offered firewood from your stores to the village boys who’d trekked all the way out to your lonely cottage to make sure that your hearth was included in the communal bonfire. In the morning, you would go down to the smouldering embers on the village green and light your own torch to bind your hearth to the rest of the community, but for the moment, you were alone on the edge of things.

Now, as the tiny crescent of moon sailed out from behind the bare, silhouetted branches of the old copse of ash and oak behind the drystone wall, you leaned a moment on the wooden gate at the end of the garden path, and tilted your face to its frail, faltering light.

Your breath made ghosts dance in the air, and as you rested there and smelled the last of the mint in the garden beside you, the sound of hoofbeats on the road disturbed the dark and the quiet of the night.

It was far too late for any of the villagers to be venturing up the road now. Travellers were rare on Samhain night, and yet a horse was approaching at a steady, measured walk, and eventually, the hazy outline of a rider on a huge, ragged mount melted from the mist.

Your heart leapt to your throat and you stepped back, trying not to trip or stumble or bolt to your house for fear of insulting the rider. This was no human being sitting astride that monstrous horse with its rolling red eyes.

For one, the rider had no head.

“Dullahan,” you breathed before you could stop yourself, and you felt their attention sharpen onto you. You bit back a hissing curse at your stupidity just in time and stood your ground. There was an iron horseshoe above your door, and you wondered if that would be enough to protect you from this Unseelie Fae.

The horse’s hooves slowed and it tossed its head, snorting and blowing steam in the cold night, and the rider turned to regard you with a head that wasn’t there.

---

You will be able to read the whole story on the 'Little Ghosties' tier of Patreon from 21st October 2023!

I hope to see you there for more like this, and if you want to know a little more about it, here's the post I made to let folks know about my Patreon coming back!

#dullahan #dullahan x reader #dullahan romance #fae romance #fae #patreon #ghosti's patreon

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hersaladdeer · 3 months ago

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Chapter 10: Fear 🍆

An ongoing ProHero Hitoshi x F!OC fanfic. Some NSFW and dark stuff in this chapter.

"Good little fuck toy." The gravely nature Hitoshi's voice had taken on made goosebumps appear on her skin.

"Why don't you take off your shirt, and get on your knees?" Takara felt the warmth inside her grow at the filthy words the man whispered. Takara slowly got on her knees before the hero, pulling her shirt over her head as she did so. The cool air from the room caused her nipples to harden once they were released from the fabric. Hitoshi took a second to admire the scene before him.

"Have you never heard of a front door?" Hitoshi paused, looking between Takara and the patio door he was sliding shut. "This is the front of your building, isn't it?" Takara rolled her eyes as she turned away, knowing there was no point to arguing with the man. She quickly turned to press a few keys on her computer that had been haphazardly placed on a box, shutting it off. She stood, stretching her back out before taking a few steps towards the hero.

"I didn't get the chance to thank you for your help today." Hitoshi smiled at her. "Don't - I wouldn't have gone if grandma hadn't forced me." Takara leaned against the wall, watching the hero as he assessed the room.

"Still." Hitoshi thought back to the confused look on Aizawa's face as Hitoshi had explained the meeting, and being given a book by Tao. Apparently this type of knowledge was not normally available. "It helped. But I have a few clarifying questions to help make sen-" Hitoshi was cut off by a sudden impact to his chest as Ash tackled him. He was as determined as ever to play with Hitoshi's capture weapon.

"Ashen one!" Takara chastised as Hitoshi tried to untangle himself from the kittens grip. As Takara managed to pull the wriggling mass away, Hitoshi deposited the garment on the floor. "He's gotten bigger." He observed, the kitten now requiring two hands for Takara to wrangle the squirming murderous mass.

"Yeah, they do that. I keep threatening to stop feeding him, but he just keeps growing." Takara placed the kitten on the floor who immediately went for the deposited fabric, Hitoshi shaking his head at the ferocity. "What'd you need?" Takara questioned, reminding Hitoshi of why he had knocked on her patio door, scaring the red headed woman.

"This." Hitoshi pulled out the slightly more crumpled paper from his pocket that Tao had translated. "I'm not sure what this is supposed to mean." The letter seemed to have been instructions to extract the ricin from the castor beans. Tao had made a few notes underneath outlining what it said, and a few different interpretations for specific words. The first half read like a recipe. The second half read as a sort of poem.

Each sect slain, the head of houses laid to waste,

The beast had passed and so too did they.

A bloodless slaughter, no war declared.

With new ascension, fresh revival.

Takara read it over a few times, her head tilting to either side as she repeated it to herself. "Did you bring the book Tao gave you?" Hitoshi nodded, handing over the small red book from his pocket.

"It could be in reference to a few things, but if I had to guess-" Takara flipped through the book quickly, looking for a specific chapter. She stopped, reading the first page quickly. "Yeah. This." Takara handed the book back to Hitoshi, the page marked.

The Uniting.

"It's a chapter about how Nagati killed the other gods when she ascended." Hitoshi marked the page, making a mental note to read it more in depth later. "That translation is a little strange. It wasn't like Nagati went on to kill the heads of families. She went after the other Gods to overtake and absorb their dominion. The others were all so old and powerful they thought they were invincible, but Nagati...well, she proved that wrong."

"Including the Goddess?" Takara rolled her eyes, as though the thought was ridiculous. "No. At least, that's not what I believe."

"And who wrote this book?" Hitoshi questioned, one eyebrow raised. "One of the Nagati's human lovers. Apparently she'd taken a liking to the poetry he wrote in her honor, and offered him her stories if he would write them as a poem. They fell in love while he wrote it." Takara handed the book back to him, a smile on her face. "At the very least, it's a pretty cool poem. But I don't think this-" Takaea pointed to the crumpled piece of paper, "is an accurate translation." Hitoshi nodded, taking the book and reading a page in silence as they stood in front of her patio doors.

"So, you and Tao?" The prompt came out as a question despite Hitoshi's intention of being casual. A beat of silence passed between them. "Yes, what about it?" Hitoshi felt Takara's mood shift, her voice becoming more clinical and less animated as she waited for his elaboration. She crossed her arms as she surveyed him.

"She seemed very fond of you." Hitoshi recalled. Fond didn't really scratch the surface of what Tao seemed to feel for the redhead.

Takara pursed her lips. "Well, we dated. She was fond of me. I was fond of her. And now..." Takara trailed off in a sigh, running an anxious hand through her hair. The day had brought up a lot of mixed emotions about her ex. She'd been Takara's first love. But she had broken Takara's heart with her ultimatum. They had gone from seeing each other everyday to not speaking overnight. Takara had never felt as alone as she had in that moment when Tao had turned and wordlessly left, taking all the sweet nothings and promises with her as she did.

"I wasn't sure if it changed anything for you. Knowing how she still felt could change whatever this is." Hitoshi's voice trailed off as Takara scrutinized him, her brown eyes sharp as ever. "If all it took to win me over was to have someone fall to their knees, I'd have you too." Takara teased, a smirk playing across her face before being replaced by concern. "Do you ever sleep, or only when you pass out here?" She questioned, looking at her phone to check the time before looking back at the heavy circles under Hitoshi's eyes.

"You're still up too." Hitoshi stood up to stretch, the day of patrols leaving him a bit tired as he raised his hands above his head. "Besides, you didn't text me." Hitoshi turned to remove his boots and place them by the door, deciding that he could use some company for the evening. Takara didn't protest.

"I got caught up in unpacking. And I finally got the chance to pick up some of my favorite tea - I haven't been back to that area in a few months." There were considerably fewer boxes crowding the space beyond the door, with a pile of empty boxes haphazardly assembled into a play area for Ash. "Don't tell me you were worried about me!" Takara let out a small laugh as she hugged the hero from behind, feeling him tense and then slowly soften at the sudden contact.

Hitoshi had been silently dealing with the worry for the week he hadn't seen Takara. He hadn't called it worry, of course. He'd called it confusion - where had she gone? He'd called it greenhouse observation even though he was staying on the roof long after he normally would. He had stayed until the early hours of the morning, when he had been concerned he would fall off the roof from exhaustion if he didn't move to wake himself up.

Hitoshi realized he'd been silent for too long as Takara rested her head against his back, leaning her weight into him. "Hey," her voice was gentle as she squeezed him around the waist, the warmth of her body pressing into him. "You don't have to worry about me. I've been taking care of myself for this long, and I'm doing pretty okay."

"I wasn't worried." Hitoshi placed a hand over one of hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I just came by to let you know you're a liar." He felt Takara scoff as she released him, placing a playful push against his back as she did so. "So you came to call me names?" Takara questioned as Hitoshi turned, picking her up in one swift movement. Her legs instinctively wrapped around him, a smile bursting across her face as Hitoshi spun them, placing her down on the bed softly underneath him, her arms wrapped around his neck.

"I seem to remember someone liking being called names. Or does that only extend to me calling you a cheat?" Takara blushed at the memory his teasing invoked. She could feel the trickling of anticipation begin between them as Hitoshi leaned in to kiss her. It was strange - in all the ways their first kiss had been soft and chaste, this one was warm and slow. Hitoshi's mouth moved against hers, begging for entry which she granted him. His arms found her waist and pulled her flush to him, her arms wrapping around his neck. The waft of silken strawberry he smelled whenever he got close to Takara was like a gentle caress to his senses, one that was growing more and more familiar with each passing day. "We should talk boundaries." Hitoshi whispered as he pulled away, much to Takara's disapointment.

"Must we?" Takara's smile turned mischievous as she pressed a kiss to Hitoshi's neck, her arms snaking around his waist. She kissed the sensitive area first, before gently sucking the flesh. Hitoshi groaned, impressed by her attempts at distraction. "I can leave out your front door, if you prefer." Hitoshi offered. Takara's movements stopped as she pulled away. "Fine." She sighed, crossing her arms once as she reigned in the growing need she felt.

"Can I call you names?" He questioned, suppressing a smirk at the woman's annoyance. "Sure." Takara answered shortly. "Any that you want completely off the table?" Takara bit her lip before looking away, shaking her head. Hitoshi's eyes narrowed. "If you're going to lie to me-"

"No, no, it's not that. Calling me a liar just feels weird. It doesn't-" Takara's face was painted with confusion as she shrugged in silence. "Get me going?" Her explanation finished in a question as Hitoshi nodded. "So what does?"

Hitoshi knew there was something on her mind when the blush appeared on her cheeks, a smile being reigned in with a bite to her lip as she surveyed him. "Fuck toy?" Hitoshi felt himself harden at the whispered confession as Takara looked up at him, her eyes a mix of swirling curiosity and lust. He didn't miss how she didn't try and cover up or shy away from her wants, unlike their first night together.

"Interesting. I think I can manage that." Hitoshi repressed the urge to bring Takara to her knees for him and treat her the way she desired, until they figured out the exact terms. "You like that." Takara observed as she stepped closer, her arms once again wrapping around him as she pressed herself into him, her brown eyes staring up at him from where her chin rested on his sternum.

"Can I pull your hair and show you how I like my cock sucked?" Hitoshi asked, gently placing a stray strand of her hair behind Takara's ear as his other arm wrapped around her. "Tapping my thigh twice is your stop cue in that case." Takara nodded up at him. "And if I were to bend you over the bed after?" "I think I'd like that."

"What do you say if you need me to slow things down?" Takara was amazed at the dichotomy of Hitoshi as he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead after he asked his question. He only seemed affectionate with her in brief spurts. "Slow?" Takara questioned with a laugh as Hitoshi nodded, a smile spreading across his face as he did so. It was a smile filled with warmth and longing.

"And if you need me to stop completely?" Takara found herself mesmerized by the warmth in his voice and eyes, so unlike the man had been this afternoon. "Then I say stop."

"Good little fuck toy." The gravely nature Hitoshi's voice had taken on made goosebumps appear on her skin. "Why don't you take off your shirt, and get on your knees?" Takara felt the warmth inside her grow at the filthy words the man whispered. Takara slowly got on her knees before the hero, pulling her shirt over her head as she did so. The cool air from the room caused her nipples to harden once they were released from the fabric. Hitoshi took a second to admire the scene before him - the gorgeous, shirtless redhead on her knees, looking up at him expectedly. The golden hues in her eyes were highlighted by the gentle lamplight Takara had unpacked. She was breathtaking under a golden glow.

Hitoshi undid the fly of his pants, allowing his cock to spring free. Takara looked up at him awaiting direction. "Hand me your shirt." Takara looked confused for a second before looking around and grabbing the previously discarded article before handing it to him. "Can I blindfold you?" As much as he wanted to look into her eyes while his cock was stuffed in her throat, the thought of her blindfolded was too tempting to not explore.

He'd seen many expressions painted on Takara's features, but fear hadn't been one he was particularly familiar with. Until now, she'd only shown fear when the power had gone out and the room had been plunged into darkness. The immediate disappearance of excitement, the way her body shifted away from him by an almost imperceptible amount, the way her previously flushed cheeks had drained so rapidly of color. This was a reaction Hitoshi was unfortunately accustomed to due to his quirk. In this moment, Hitoshi realized, Takara was afraid of him. He dropped the shirt as though it had delivered an electric shock.

"I-I-" No wasn't what Takara had wanted to say tonight. She trusted Hitoshi, but the thought of being in complete darkness was still terrifying regardless of who her companion was. "I-No. No, I don't want that. No." When Takara didn't rise from where she was kneeling as she began a flurry of refusals, Hitoshi knelt down to her level instead. "No blindfolds." Hitoshi's voice was gentle as he slowly reached his hand out to grasp hers in fear of startling her. The fear hadn't fully left her face as she surveyed him. "I didn't think of it. As a hard boundary, when you asked. But I always want to be able to see." Hitoshi nodded as he rubbed his thumb along the back of her knuckles. "That's all you need to say."

"I can't do this tonight." Takara grabbed her shirt from where Hitoshi had dropped it and pulled it over her head, not meeting his gaze as she rose and turned, flipping on the light switch to the overhead light as she did so. The room was washed in a bright, white light. "Do you want to use these doors, or the other ones?" Hitoshi's brow furrowed in confusion. "We don't have to do anything, but does that mean I have to go?" He was concerned - clearly he'd touched a nerve, and he wanted to help soothe the jolt of anxiety he'd caused the woman.

"I don't know. I just-" Takara turned to face him, comforted by the increased lighting levels. "I figured you had better things to do if we weren't going to...fuck." Takara finished her sentence crudely as she tried to find a more evocative word and came up short.

Hitoshi opened his mouth for a second before closing it and reconsidering his words. "I will go if that's what you want. I'm not upset about anything that just happened. I'm just concerned for you, and the reaction you had."

"I didn't know it was a hard boundary until you asked me-"

"I believe you. I don't think you're lying, Takara." Hitoshi cut her off, once again grabbing for her hand. "But you were just afraid, and I don't want you to be afraid of me." Hitoshi bit his tongue to keep himself from elaborating. He didn't want to explain how people had always looked at him with fear. Once people knew about his quirk they were guarded, careful. He'd always had to earn people's trust. Becoming a hero had helped with that to some, and made him more untrustworthy to others. "When people learn about my quirk, they're always afraid at first." He could offer her a sliver of an explanation.

"'Toshi." Takara knelt down next to him with a sigh. "I'm not afraid of you. I'm afraid of the dark." She said it as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, but Hitoshi still had a hard time getting the look in her eyes out of his head. "My grandmother controls fear." The strange turn in the conversation had Hitoshi's brows furrowed once more. "What?"

"My parents thought maybe I did too. It looks like...darkness, but it moves like water." Takara tried explaining the shadows she'd seen her grandmother conjure. "They thought I may be able to as well. My grandmother found out when she fell into the river one day and almost drowned. Her own fear saved her." Takara swallowed the lump in her throat before continuing. "My father couldn't do it, but to be sure my grandmother had him hold a tarantula everyday for a week."

"What?" Hitoshi repeated again, shaking his head. "Why did they have to be sure-"

"Physically manifesting and manipulating fear can be deadly if it's uncontrolled. In a real, truly fearful situation if you haven't learned to reign it in..." Takara trailed off with a shake of her head. "So, my parents locked me in the basement for a few minutes everyday for a while." Takara said it so casually that it took a second for Hitoshi to process what she was sharing with him. "What!?" Hitoshi repeated a third time, his voice filled with anger. "That sounds bad." Takara admitted sheepishly. "They would be on the other side of the door with a timer. I would cry so hard I'd puke but....yeah. I was afraid of the dark, so they put me in the dark for a bit to make sure nothing happened." Takara tried not to think of the darkened room, the sliver of light from under the door even being smothered with a towel to prevent any reprieve from the imposing darkness of the cellar. The way her tiny fists had hurt from how hard they would bang on the door. The way her voice had been lost after the third day from screaming so much.

"That's barbaric." Takara shrugged. "They had to be sure." She said simply, wrapping her arms around herself as she did so before heavily sighing. "None of this is your problem, but I wanted to make it clear that I'm not afraid of you. Just, no blindfolds." Suddenly the sliver of truth Hitoshi had offered her felt inadequate in the face of the confession she'd offered him. But he simply nodded. "Do you want me to go?"

"No." Another freely offered confession from Takara. "But I figured you were here for translation context and fucking. I didn't think you would want to spoon and sleep." Despite himself, Hitoshi smiled. "We're friends. We can spoon and sleep.''

"Don't tell me you spoon that blonde." Takara teased as she made her way into the bedroom. It took a moment for Hitoshi to figure out who she was referring to.

"Denki?" "Yeah, the blonde." Takara teased as she tossed her pants unceremoniously into the room, crawling into bed with her panties and shirt on. "No, I don't spoon Denki." Hitoshi confirmed as he stripped off his sweater and pants before crawling under the covers. He shifted closer before wrapping an arm around the woman's waist, dragging her further into him. Strawberries once again enveloped his senses as he pressed a kiss to the back of her head.

"Good." Takara said sleepily, her eyes suddenly heavy with the emotional toll of the day. Hitoshi laid with her processing what she'd shared, and reflecting on the day the power had gone out. He hadn't realized how much trust she had put in him that night, the time with her now painted in a new light. He held her a little tighter, breathing in her scent as he let sleep take him.

Hitoshi stayed longer than he normally would the next morning. He had always tried to sneak out while it was still dark to try and avoid suspicion. That morning he had stayed until the sun had risen, not wanting to leave Takara alone in the dark.

I feel like I go into these chapters with a plan and the characters laugh at me and do whatever the hell they want. This is another case of it.

Link to chapter index.

Link to chapter 11.

#hitoshi shinsou #shinso hitoshi #mha hitoshi #hitoshi smut #shinsou smut #bnha shinso #shinso x oc #hitoshi x oc

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possumsinpeoplesuits · 4 months ago

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Holy shit I was working on this since late October, and I'm the most proud I've ever been of a picture I've drawn?

Details and graffiti transcriptions below the cut! 'Cause I worked on that shit for like three entire days, and I'll be damned if I don't show off some environmental storytelling word crimes.

So, first we have a couple closer looks of Sasha! Their outfit was pretty fun. I haven't done modern outfits in... probably ever, and it was nice having a lot more references to work off of.

Their sefirot necklace was fun to draw because I have one almost exactly like it. The flannel was the first time trying to do plaid by hand with a new little technique (Base colors+Multiply layer for dark stripes+Overlay layer for light stripes) but it went way faster than the god damn quilt?

All in all, my favorite detail was doing cosmetics, because I got to do little chips missing in the nail polish, and that's probably the first time I've drawn eyeshadow and willingly shown the result! : D

Next we have the little rat family in the background, with the wall-dwelling Rat King peeking through the wall, which is where I did dipped into tracing a couple photos instead of just looking at references.

Generally my process has been doing anatomy lines over a reference, then working off of those for about... three to four layers for body->clothes->hair->Full sketch, then another with whatever brush I wanna do the lineart with (usually a watercolor detail brush from one of two sets on Krita), but I'll note where I skipped that process and committed some art crimes.

The two background rats (Pestis and Mortar) are from a pair of stock photos from Getty, while the one in the foreground (Yersinia) is a mix of a pic that pops up in meme dumps from time to time of a smoking rat and a few bits that weren't in the original image. (Jewelry, the legs that were covered by an ash tray in the original pics, the "Buns and Roses" lighter she clearly stole from Sasha.)

Time for some graffiti transcriptions! Most of the variation in the graffiti came from switching the size of my brush and trying to mix up my handwriting, but there's a few segments where I use a font, then outlined the font with a 2px across brush to make it fit more into the art. Mostly, this was through screenshotting google docs, but some of the fancier fonts are from cooltext.com.

Top:

This is really high

No it's not?

Top Right:

A drawing of a clown that clearly used to be titties

"What's wrong with Bipo's eyes?" (Referring to the tape over the nipples)

"Their titties, bro"

"What about them?"

Top Left going down:

"Hail Satin" written next to a six pointed star

"Rong star, dumass"

A sticker reading "Apologize to your English teacher"

"Yeah, get a brian, morans!"

"You're just as bad as the other two!"

Bottom Left:

Gazebos ate my ass

Bottom center:

"My sister turned into a bird but no one believes me."

"That's rough, buddy."

Bottom right:

A sticker of a possum with "Live Weird" written on it.

A sticker of a more poorly drawn character wrapped in blankets with "Seep eeps" written on it.

...So I made up a fake BDSM club for this one and named the majority of the bands dirty jokes, but I will die on the hill that there should be an all-trans metal band called "The Book of Dead Names."

CHOKE POINT

PRESENTS

LIVE MUSIC

THIS SUNDAY

CUNT MUNCHIES

THE BOOK OF DEAD NAMES

SOME GUY NAMED STEVE

FIST FUCK DUMP TRUCK

WOLFGANGBANG

THE PENIS MIGHTIER

A sticker with a set of vampire fangs that says "Got Blood?"

"Parasitic fucks"

"U got beef w/ Count Chocula?"

"Bro, vamps suck."

"Duh"

"So does your mum.

A sticker of a cross made out of a bunch of interlocking parts with some mirrored Hebrew in the middle. (I'm really proud of making this shape up on the spot. I had an idea for a religious monster hunter group named after the Watchers from Enoch, but I've got no idea if this story will ever happen.)

"Your Hebrew is backwards, you twatwaffle"

A sticker reading "Deus Vult"

"I fucking love Powerwolf"

"VULT DEUS NUTS, GOTTEM!

A cut off poster telling people to vote for, I presume, their favorite chainsmoking rat, clearly.

A sticker of the Autism Creature

"Rizz 'em w' the Tism" with the last S being the one everyone draws in school, but also backwards.

"It's like if Kirby was a centaur"

"I will never unsee that."

"It looks nothing like my vaccuum"

A paper with "Missing Printer" and a cut off phone number written in sharpie.

A meme of a bear in a suit (Partially a trace of the actual meme template) with "You have seasonal affective disorder because you need Vitamin D. I have seasonal affective disorder because one of my ancestors fucked a bear. We are not the same"

"Is that how it happens?"

"Oh, sure, this dude's ancestor fucks a bear, he gets a meme, BUT WHEN I-"

"Going insane by yourself, handsome?"

Three pieces of paper with "Yes" "Yup" and "Yass" written on them, two stuck on with tape, while the third is stuck to a wad of chewing gum.

"You guys seriously pay to print out memes just to vandalize shit?"

"No, I stole the printer, too."

"YOU"

"Paulie never died"

A sticker of the Mothman

"TAX FRAUD"

A large printout with a dramatic portrait of Mitch McConnell with "ARE YA BREEDING YET?" written below it. Several tear off strips are missing, but the remainder all say different variations of "Yes"

A cut off sticker of a smiley face

A sticker of a machete

"BURGLE TURTS"

A sticker of a crying laughing emoji.

A sticker of a pot leaf

A sticker with a picture of bigfoot with pasties on her boobs walking up to a stripper pole with "I want to believe" written in the X-Files font

"Whoever gave Bigfoot tits will never enter the Kingdom of God"

Three notes pointing to the previous message with "Noticed the tits first" "Weirdo" and "Your preoccupation with cryptid mammaries betrays your discomfort with your own sexuality. Consider meditation, therapy, or possibly fucking yourself!"

"Weirdo" pointing to the previous paragraph before being crossed out and replaced with "BASED"

"K, but y tho?"

"No one insults the Bigfoot big naturals on my watch"

(She has them in the Patterson-Gimli footage, too)

"BIGFOOT BIG NATURALS" "NOW LORE ACCURATE"

A swastika being covered up by a peace sign

"Degenerates should be purged" "AMEN" "U FIRST."

A drawing of a penis that's been turned into a weasel in a familiar pose with "Dick weasel" and "Had to do it to 'em" written next to it

A sticker of a stalk of corn labeled "CORN"

"See? Iowa is with us!"

And, finally, "Does reading this hurt your back, too?" which was the last thing I added because I literally spent two days just doing graffiti for this shit.

So, the map behind Sasha is made up on the spot, with some inspiration from a map of the Seattle Bay. Kinda proud of just how dirty this fucking place is, but the final, and greatest achievment in making this picture look grimy...

THE RUST

I didn't exactly nail the perspective on some of these (The sketchy layer for the floor grating was done once, then dragged into place and warped with the perspective... and then completely fucked that up) but god DAMN do I love texturing the fuck out of things!

There's like six Multiply layers scattered about because it turned out it's a phenomenal way to make the shading of multiple textures make sense without losing that texture, and I feel so god damn powerful!

Oh, right, the posters.

Not much to say about them. The righthand one was 95% traced from a mafia stock photo, while the hands in the left came from another stock photo.

Honestly, I drew the frames, then had no idea what to put in them. There was briefly gonna be a pic referencing a cosplay photo I have of myself, but eh...

The rats and the guy in the wall were originally referencing a Vampire the Masquerade character I had named Pretty Paulie, who was a mafioso turned nosferatu who dubbed his crew the Rat Pack. I figured if there was some kind of dramatic, Scarface-esque movie about him, he'd definitely find a way to keep the poster nearby, and I wanted to slap in one of those "Give blood!" posters from the Red Cross except... not from the red cross.

I don't really feel like I put in much effort into these (compared to the Graffiti-a-thon with several subplots), but hey... they covered the tile, which before shading was boring and very flat, so they did their job.

I'll leave you with some zoomed in textures, because I do feel proud about those! I make them via a combo of oil paint and watercolor brushes, usually with a whole lot of different coats of varying opacity until it looks like the thing it's supposed to be. :)

I've only just started drawing again this year (I've been editing a looooot longer) so there's a lot of spaces where I have hiccups, but I'm figuring out the areas I do well in.

...Also sweet Jesus this started as me trying to figure out what a character looked like. It says 3 full days worth of editing was done in Krita on this file, and I don't think it's counting the idle time.

#character art #original character #digital art #digital drawing #oc art #nonbinary character #trans artist

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zoeysdamn · 2 years ago

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Bark, Bite & Break Bones - Tyler Galpin x Van Helsing!reader | Part.10 [FINALE]

Summary: Deep into a rescue mission, you’re about to face some childhood traumas along with distressed werewolves. But if you’re here rescuing kids, who’s handling Tyler’s safety out there? Was it a mistake to choose to leave him in this tense atmosphere where everyone’s looking for a culprit? You just hope you won’t be too late to see the mystery of this curse unfold.

Warnings: graphic gore depiction (be careful), swearing, angst, mention of blood, mention of arson, mention of child neglect (minor), mention of slapping a partner [THIS IS A PIECE OF FICTION, THIS IS NEVER OKAY IN REAL LIFE] Also, my sincere apologizes for the badly written fight scenes and even shittier plot lmao

A/N: oh my gOD the last chapter is finally out!! (who would have thought). Really not my best chapter, but honsetly I had 0 plot for this one lmao I’m still pleased of how it turned out. Read the warnings carefully, and enjoy!

[Main Masterlist] [Wednesday Masterlist] [Prologue] [Part.1] [Part.2] [Part.3] [Part.4] [Part.5] [Part.6] [Part.7] [Part.8] [Part.9]

The heat was almost unbearable and hitched your skin. Ashes and the heavy dust from burning wood were veiling your eyes too, making them water in a pitiful attempt to clear your vision, but by now you weren’t really paying any attention to it anymore. A burning ache seemed to grow in your lungs every passing second, and you knew it was a matter of a few minutes before breathing would really become painful.

Nothing looked like the dorms anymore. No matter how well you thought you knew the grounds, every corner was metamorphosed into unrecognizable burning piles. Time was of the essence yet you lost yourself so many times trying to scramble your way through the blazing building.

Despite the burning in your throat, you tried to call out, “Hello?! Anyone here?”

Nobody answered the raspy question. So you carried on your search under the unbearable warmth of the fire around you. Sweat beads dripped down your forehead and a cough tore from your aching throat. Then, very faintly, a whimper echoed somewhere behind a crumbled part of a wall. Through your coughs, you tried to call out again.

“Hello? Are you in there?”

Another long whine answered you and after pushing some rubble you could outline a shivering form through the thick smoke. Two students were curled up on the ground, trembling with fear and halfway through their wolf transformation. Unruly fur poked from under their skin at odd places, yet couldn’t hide the pure look of distress on the children’s faces. As soon as they noticed you through the thick smoke, a growl emanated from one of them; surely more instinct than real disdain. Despite the urgency of the situation and the burning flames all around, you carefully knelt in front of the shivering students.

“It’s okay,” you tried to reassure them as best as you could, “I’m gonna get you out of here, okay?”

Carefully reaching out with your palm, you let the two children crinkle their snouts at your scent. Whether they knew who you were or not didn’t seem to change the fact they immediately winced and backed down even further against the wall, trying to growl in an intimidating manner. But the low whine that escaped instead didn’t fool you. The fire alone was a traumatizing experience, but an early, forced wolf-out was even worse. Memories of written testimonies of previous hunters flashed in your mind, their tales of great pain and tortured howls from werewolves who had been forced to transform too soon. Those kids right here were in more dreadful pain than anyone could imagine.

Slowly unsheathing your dagger, you kept your eyes focused on the younger students. At the sight of the silver blade, one of the students let out a terrified cry.

Immediately flicking the dagger so that the blade rested in your palm instead of facing them, you held out your other hand in a somewhat reassuring gesture. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” you shushed, trying the best to ignore the blazing warmth of the fire around you. “I’m not gonna hurt you. See?”

As to prove your words, the blade sank into your skin, drawing blood onto your palm. The strong copper smell of blood immediately made the students’ eyes widen and their half-transformed snout crinkle despite the bitter taste of ashes and flames all around. You knew that a werewolf transformation, particularly an early one, sharpened the senses and the smell ; thus, the strong smell of blood and silver should be upsetting enough for the human part of those students, and hopefully help them turn back. You simply hoped that the human part of them would take over quickly, it was becoming really hard to ignore the blazing fire around you.

Fortunately, after what felt like the longest seconds of your life, the harsh features of half-turned students started to fade into softer, human ones. With heavy whimpers tainted in pain, the two children started to turn back in their usual normal selves and soon tears-stained cheeks replaced their furry ones. When they lifted up glassy eyes to you, it was the only sign you needed and you grabbed the arm of the closest student.

“Come on,” you urged them, “we need to get out quickly.”

If either of them wanted to speak, the protest died quickly. Sooner than later the two young students ended up clinging to your side, never letting go of each other as the three of you hurried through the burning corridors.

The smoke made your eyes and throat burn, and despite trying to keep a clear mind you couldn’t help but an all-too familiar memory to overcome your senses. Flashes of another place, burning to the ground just like this one, and the dreadful feeling of panic overflowing your entire being, those were painfully familiar to you. For a moment you were this terrified little girl again, trapped inside your grandparents house while the fire destroyed everything and no one around to help you. But the iron-grip of the petrified children on your sleeve reminded you that no matter how the dread of memories tried to drown you, you had a responsibility. Those kids needed you, and you’d be damned if you couldn’t save those terrified children from this blaze just like you had been all those years ago. This time no child would feel as helpless and trapped within the flames, that you promised to yourself.

A loud crack erupted just before a beam collapsed in front of you, making you jump backward with a curse. A tiny whimper escaped one of the students and you squeezed their shoulder in reassurance, looking around to find another way out.

“Come on, stay close to me,” you coughed as you hurried to a window nearby. Getting out of the building was becoming more than urgent, or neither of you three would last long.

Suddenly a gush of fresh air kissed your face and made your eyes widened. The exit was close, there was still a chance for you and the kids to get out in one piece. Following the feeling of night breeze, you clumsily reached the window you had previously noticed among the rumbles. Shouts of people outside became louder and clearer, a nice indication that the nightmare might be over soon. When you reached the window, you peeked outside to see the surroundings: first floor, some bushes at the foot of the outside wall, just before one of the paths leading to the outer courtyard where everyone gathered. Perfect.

“Hey!” you shouted, and some other students a few meters away whipped their heads in your direction. “Over here! Come help me, there’s kids in here!”

While a bunch of people hurried in your direction, you helped the two younger students climbing on the window ledge. When they noticed the height, they gave you frightened looks.

“I can’t do this,” whined one of them, almost pleading. But you would have none of that, and grounded a hand on their shoulder.

“Yes you can,” you said with a firm yet reassuring tone. “You’ve been very brave already, I know you can do it.”

Some older students below started to organize themselves by climbing on each other’s shoulders to be able to catch the younger kids. At the sign they were ready, you hoisted the first kid on the ledge.

��I’m right behind you,” you promised them when they gave you one last frightened look. “Trust me.”

And so they did. Holding their hands to lower them until your arms couldn’t take it anymore, you let go of them only for a second before they were caught safely on the ground by the group of students down below. Seeing how well their friend’s rescuing went, the second kid let you guide them without a word, trusting you to get them out safely. Once the two rescued kids were back on the ground and outside of the flaming building, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. That’s it, they’re safe. But a loud crack behind you brutally reminded you that you weren’t out of trouble yet yourself, and out of reflex you jumped from the window ledge before the flames could reach you.

The sudden nature of the jump hadn’t allowed you to properly prepare yourself so you ended up half-landing, half-crashing on the ground rather unceremoniously. A grunt left your lips at a sharp sting on your ankle ; surely you had landed on it, spraining it in the process.

Unknown hands came to help you up and you gratefully took them – although you may have recognized Ajax among them, you weren’t so sure. Dozens of questions were thrown at you but you barely heard them. The adrenaline rush had died down, letting the pain and exhaustion crash into you like a wall of bricks.

It was a familiar voice that dragged you out of the numbing limbo of thought.

“Holy fuck Y/N, are you alright??”

Lifting your head up, you were met with a pair of cerulean blue eyes ; to say that you were surprised by the fact they weren’t throwing daggers at you as per usual would be the understatement of the fucking century.

Despite the soreness of your throat and the ache of your limbs, you couldn’t help but grin. “Awww,” you cooed with a raspy voice, “you actually care. Took you,” you coughed roughly, “a god damn fire to soften on me.”

Bianca scoffed at your antics, “Don’t flatter yourself Van Helsing.”

“Aaand here she is. But I’ll be okay, thanks.”

Even with all the sarcasm and usual bitterness, you could see that for once, the siren truly was worried. It was hard to believe that she would at some point, after having tried to drown you barely a few months ago.

A chuckle just next to you made you realize that you were literally leaning against someone who helped you walk away from the building – probably one who had helped you get up. Turning your head, you realized it was indeed a familiar gorgon student.

“Through a fire and still being sarcastic,” he joked. “Is there anything that can actually kill you?”

You snorted, wincing in pain in the process. “Wouldn’t anyone like to know, uh?”

“Y/N!!” shrieked a voice.

The three of you turned just in time to catch a glimpse of a blonde and pink tornado rushing at your side. You hadn’t time to catch your breath that she was already crushing you into a hug.

“Thank you!” Enid cried. “Thank you thank you thank you! You saved those pups, I can’t thank you enough!!”

From above her shoulder, you caught sight of the two young werewolves students you rescued, surrounded by teachers and being taken care of. A sigh of relief got past your lips. Everybody was okay, that’s all that mattered. Wait. Everyone?

“Where’s Tyler?” you asked abruptly, suddenly very aware of your surroundings.

Enid parted from the hug, looking confused. Bianca, Ajax, and Wednesday – surely arrived shortly after Enid – looked at each other, shrugging.

“Nobody knows where he is?” you asked frantically. At the shake of their heads, a new feeling of dread sank into you. Suddenly, you could sense that something was very, very wrong.

WIthout really thinking, you pushed yourself off Ajax and started to search frantically around you for a familiar freckled boy. But Tyler was nowhere to be found. Ignoring the calls of Enid, Wednesday and Ajax, you hobbled the best you could through the courtyard. Still no chance.

As you started to fear that he might have disappeared, your gaze focused on the forest. The pit of dread growing in your stomach only worsened, and you realized that something much more dangerous was most likely to occur. The fire, the sudden panic, with all this pressure and stressful situation, Tyler could lose control over the Hyde at any moment. And you hadn’t been here to contain him and keep him grounded like you had promised him to.

Limping toward the woods the fastest you could, you truly hoped that you were wrong, and that there was no Hyde running wild out there.

The chilly air of the night did nothing to calm your nerves as you rushed through the woods. Even with your limping leg, you searched frantically for Tyler but he was nowhere to be found. Calling him would be useless, it would only frighten him more, should he not recognize your voice from afar.

Mentally, you couldn’t help but scold yourself a little. None of that would have happened if you hadn’t agreed to follow Xavier, Wednesday and Bianca in the first place. Sure, the fire would have happened anyway, but at least you would have remained on Tyler’s side all along. Maybe those two kids were safe thanks to you, but if anything happened to Tyler you would never forgive yourself.

A faint crack made you whip your head around; only to find a dark silhouette clutching its head a few meters away. Carefully approaching the groaning form, you knew who it was before even seeing their face. No matter how gray his skin was starting to turn, how his bones seemed to want to pop out in sharp edges or how fucked up the situation was, you could recognize your boyfriend anywhere.

“Tyler?...” you called him, voice barely above a whisper.

A grunt answered just as he whipped around to face you. Halfway through his own transformation, surely fighting against the Hyde within his own body and mind, Tyler stared at you without really looking at you. With ragged breaths, he found himself standing still and you used it to slowly approach him, a hand halfway held in his direction.

“Hey there big boy,” you said softly, careful to not upset him more. His lack of reaction made you optimistic, and for the briefest moment you thought it could go easily. Boy, you were wrong.

In a blink of an eye you ended up thrown against the nearest tree, back hitting the trunk forcefully as a clawed hand squeezed around your throat. The force of the impact against the tree was so strong, your head bumped harshly and made you dizzy for a handful of seconds. When your eyes refocused, there was nothing left of Tyler in front of you; the full-grown Hyde’s face breathed heavily inches from yours, sharp teeth and furious eyes threatening to tear off your head any moment. His transformation had been so fast you hadn’t even been able to see it.

Another growl, more impatient this time, escaped him and the Hyde’s claws squeezed harder around your throat.

Breath getting short, you yet couldn’t help but to let slip a snarky comment. “Jokes on you, I’m into that,” you rasped with a smirk.

That definitely didn’t ease the creature and he slammed you once more against the tree, tearing off a pained grunt out of you. Internally you cursed your natural sarcasm and some more rational survival reflexes finally sprung out. Your right hand came to cling on the monster’s wrist, like it would do anything to make him drop you - just like the pathetic attempt of kicking your tired legs. The more seconds passed, the more tired you grew ; you knew there wasn’t much you could physically do in this state. Your right ankle throbbed in pain, and the previous walk-through in the fire had drained you from all energy. But you had to fight to stay alive, or else there would soon be nothing left of Y/N Van Helsing.

So instead of fighting, barking and biting with all your might, you forced yourself to relax as much as you could, gulping slowly and easing your muscles. The sudden stop of resistance seemed to surprise the Hyde, for his growls ceased for a moment – but not the iron grip around your throat though. Trying to push a smile on your tense face, you put on the most soft expression you could pull.

“It’s me,” you whispered softly, voice rough and cracking. “It’s me Tyler…Look at me babe, please look at me…”

The creature cocked his head at the sound of your voice. The calmer tone, although it had still some panicked edge, seemed to ground him. Sensing this as a progress, you pushed your luck a bit further, your left hand slowly raising to reach his distorted face. He flinched a little under your touch, but except for a light grunt of surprise, let you cradle his cheek.

Thumb grazing the rough surface of his bony cheek, you tried to keep a soft smile despite the pain. “I’m not gonna hurt you Tyler,” you promised in a soothing tone, “I can’t, you know that.”

The creature grunted again, like fighting with himself. You truly hoped that you could get a hold on the human part of Tyler and help him come back. The more he felt the caress of your hand on his face, the more it seemed to help him turn back into his human form.

Inhaling sharply, you decided to take your chance.

“Tyler,” you called him slowly, “I’m gonna need you to let me go. Can you do that?”

He struggled so hard, you could practically see the raging internal battle between the Hyde and Tyler.

“Let me go,” you whispered, eyes pleading this time, practically on the verge of tears. “Please…”

Slowly, very slowly, the clutch around your neck eased a little. The newfound arrival of air made you gasp but you had to refrain yourself from making any loud noise to not frighten the Hyde. Instead, your left hand still cradled his cheek, as a sign of encouragement. The creature lowered you gradually, and when your tiptoes finally touched the ground again you choked on a sob.

“Thanks Tyler,” you whispered, careful as his claws were still wrapped loosely around your throat, “you’re doing great.”

A spark of consciousness flashed in his globulous eyes, like his human self resurfaced for the briefest moment.

But then something seemed to make him snap, a gurgling roar tearing from the monster’s throat in fury. What was a hopeful moment a second ago turned into unbridled rage ; the other clawed hand of the Hyde rose high in the air and before you could even register what was happening, dove right onto your face. Everything went very quickly, one second the glint of sharp nails urged your survival instincts to try to cover your face with your left hand ; then a slice and a faint moment of blackout. A second later, the pain exploded.

A wail left your lips but you didn’t even hear yourself scream, nor did you feel your body drop on the forest floor. The pressure around your throat was gone, but the pain erupting through your left hand numbed everything else. Vision got blurry as you stared at the teared open flesh and puddle of blood that was once your left hand: a large gash opened your palm from forefinger to the wrist, as three half sliced fingers dandled, barely holding from their base by a thin tendril of flesh. The cover of your face from the Hyde’s claws had cost your hand. Taken aback in surprise - maybe by your scream, maybe just because of the blood - the creature had dropped you on the spot, jumping away from you – but right now you couldn’t care less, too busy clutching your butchered hand, curled on the ground. While you whimpered, spiraling down this overwhelming pain, the Hyde groaned, barking erratically like fighting some invisible demons. His very own body seemed to struggle with itself, so much that after long seconds he started to turn back, his bones replacing themselves, the gray skin fading to be replaced with his human, freckled one.

The loud thump of Tyler’s body falling on the ground suddenly reminded you of where you were, taking your mind away from the pain for a second. And no matter the throbbing of your hand, or the fact a monster was squeezing your throat to death only a few minutes ago,the sight of Tyler laying on the forest ground, shivering and whimpering made your heart clench so hard it was almost as painful as the rest of your body.

Clutching your injured hand close to your chest, you tried to crawl closer to Tyler, calling him with a pathetic whimper. HIs head rolled slowly, glossy unfocused eyes searching for the source of your voice. It wasn’t until you finally reached him and reached for his hand that he seemed to fully regain consciousness.

“Y/N…?” he rasped with a sore throat.

Hearing him again almost made you cry, so relieved that he was safe. “Yeah,” you choked on a sob, “it’s me, babe. You’re back, it’s going to be okay.”

Tyler tried to push himself up, but his attempt ended in failing miserably and he slumped on the ground once again, grunting. “I can’t move,” he moaned. Surely his transformation had left him more groggy and drained than any previous one. “Where are we?”

Another groan of pain tried to get past your lips but you swallowed it. “Somewhere in Nevermore’s forest, not sure how far…do you remember anything?”

“I…not really…the fire, the screams it- it became too much for me. And- and I started to feel dizzy so I walked away to calm down but…I don’t remember anything else…”

You nodded, hissing at the odd sensation of your three fingers dandling from your hand in an awfully gory way. Tyler heard and tried to get a better look of you. His eyes widened at the sight of your butchered limb and the bruises around your neck.

He paled, holding out trembling fingers. “Did I…did I do this to you?...”

The brush of his fingers on your cheek should have comforted you ; but despite your better judgment, you flinched at their contact. Tyler felt his heart break; oh my god, he did that to you.

Just as the grueling panic and shame slated to overflow him, you immediately gripped one of his hands with your good one.

“Hey, hey,” you said softly, “look at me Ty. Look at me,” at your insistence, he finally lifted his watery eyes to meet yours. Despite the pain and the tiredness plaguing both your mind and body, you tried to hold a steady and convinced gaze.

“It’s gonna be alright, okay? Shit like that happens during hunts, I’m used to it and you weren’t yourself.”

“But–”

“Shh,” you interrupted him. “Keep your strength. I’m going to get us out of here, we’re gonna be alright.”

“How touching to see you this optimistic,” quipped a voice behind you.

Startled in surprise, you whirled around, leveling yourself in a seating position thanks to the adrenaline rush this sudden appearance gave you. Standing a few feet away, a man stood with a heavy coat, blonde hair and a satisfied smile. It took you a handful of seconds to pinpoint exactly where you had seen this prick’s face before. Yet last you remembered, members of the school board didn’t usually carry guns with them.

Staring warily at the medium, you snarled at him. “What are you doing here in your cheap typical villain outfit? Here to peek at naked and injured students like a creep or to finish the job?”

His smile didn’t falter. “As a matter of fact, it is indeed why I’m here, Miss Van Helsing.”

You squint your eyes at him, careful to ot let panic rise too high. “So are we expecting some classical villain speech where you unfold the whole plan or is your boss gonna do it himself?”

The medium cocked his head to the side in amusement. “I’m afraid I don’t get what you’re implying. I work alone.”

Slowly, the pieces started to add up in your head. Everything was aligning and went clear. “You’re the one who put the nithing curse on the school,” you realized. “You did this.”

“That I did,” he agreed, loading his gun meticulously. “I had to make enough diversion to trigger the Hyde without too much suspicion. I must admit, the fire wasn’t what I expected but my, it did work splendidly.”

On the ground, Tyler whimpered, mind trying to get a grasp on reality through the haze. “I know…this voice…” he slurred.

The look of disdain on the psychic’s face wasn’t even hidden by the night. “You gave me more struggle than I thought, I give you that. For some pathetic creature, you sure were hard to convince to unleash once your precious bodyguard was gone, earlier.”

The thought of that arrogant fucker messing with Tyler’s mind just to make him lose control made you blood boil. “You’re a fucking psycho,” you seethed.

The board member only shrugged. “You left me no choice. If you had died in that coffee shop like you were supposed to, none of this would have happened to Nevermore, my dear.”

To the boiling anger added disgust and you snickered bitterly, “Of course you were the one who hired the mercenaries,” you spat, rolling your eyes. “Couldn’t do anything by yourself, uh? Why even doing all of this when you could have just refused Tyler’s application to the school, uh?”

This time, the medium knelt in front of you, taking in your injured self, pathetic and tired – the laying form of Tyler didn’t even seem to have his attention.

“Because it would have been much more beneficial for me to have the nuisance of Y/N Van Helsing being removed at the same occasion,” he said with a sick smile. “Do you even know how much is the bait placed on your head by some vampire covens, little hunter?”

You scoffed, “I don’t know, do enlighten me then old fart.”

Admittedly not your better insult, but the flaring of his nostrils was enough proof it was pissing the medium off. Good.

“Way too many numbers for you to count.”

“Nice,” you grinned in a provocative way, which seemed to anger him even more. Without hesitation, he pressed the barrel of his gun against your forehead.

“It would have been so much easier to have the Hyde kill you,” he seethed, clearly starting to lose patience. “He would have been put back in jail, and you would be six feet underground. Everyone would have been happier like this.”

The realization of his sick plan made you growl. “You expected Tyler to kill me by putting him in stressful situations. Too much of a coward to pull the trigger yourself?”

As the only response you heard the click of the gun being loaded. The previous calm and composed attitude of the psychic was gone, long replaced by irritation and febrile movements thanks to your insolent attitude. What could you say, without any weapon or functional body, it was all you were left with to fight. So if you had to walk away from life with bites and sarcasm, this asshole better be prepared ‘cause you fucking would.

“Shut your bloody mouth,” he spat on the verge of patience. “Do you know how hard it is to earn your place as a psychic? When you don’t have a name like mighty Vincent Thorpe?”

“Boo-hoo, poor little you,” you pouted.

“I had to crawl my way up to where I am now,” he continued, ignoring your remark. “The things I’ll do when the higher families of vampires will thank me for bringing them your head, I’ve earned them.”

“By putting some kids’ lives in danger, your fucking psychopath,” you spat at him. “You’re delusional as fuck if you think they’ll treat you as an equal.”

An amused smile stretched his lips and his finger pressed on the trigger. “I’m willing to try.”

For a second, your breath stopped and you thought that you really were about to die here. You didn’t shut your eyes but squeezed Tyler’s hand on the ground beside you, not knowing if he really felt it or if he had passed out. You just wanted to let him know that you were by his side until the end.

Then something jumped on the psychic, tackling him to the ground with force; the shot went off somewhere else behind your shoulder but you actually felt the heat of the bullet brazing your skin.

The psychic screamed, fighting the giant beast that had attacked him under your wide eyes. Between fits and bites you caught sight of blonde fur with pink tufts somewhere. Even in the dark you understood who it was. Enid’s werewolf form. It didn’t take more than a couple of seconds to hear shouts from behind you, adding to the wolf’s grunt and the wails of the man crawling for his life under her. You started to feel dizzy, eyelids heavy and head spinning just as quick as the adrenaline dropped from your body. When you picked up familiar voices such as Ajax, Wednesday or even Weems’ voices, your body allowed itself to let go. From what you remembered, it might have been Bianca or Xavier that caught you before you crashed unconscious face first on the ground, with the screams of terror of the psychic being torn apart in the distance.

You had woken up a day later in Nevermore’s infirmary, splint around your right ankle and head feeling like lost in the fog. Groggily, you had taken notice of your surroundings, mostly beds occupied by students who needed medical support after the fire. The more your senses came back, the more you had become aware of the throbbing of your left hand. Glancing down at it, you had been met with a heavily bandaged limb, specks of blood soaking through the cotton. Angry red lines crossed by stitches peaked from under the bandages; it wasn’t pretty, but at least you had all your fingers. Whoever operated you must have been able to stitch back the three of them that had threatened to get lost before it was too late.

Ultimately, you had lifted your head to see Tyler at the door of the infirmary, looking at you with wide eyes. You had smiled at him; then he did too. For your first reawakening after the long night the previous day had been, it was all you could ask for.

Two weeks later, and you found yourself sitting in the corridor of Weems’ office, waiting to be called in by the headmistress.

In the past weeks, things had been kind of hectic. First there was of course the betrayal of the board member who had deliberately put students’ lives in danger – multiple times – and whose betrayal couldn’t be ignored, no matter if he was going to spend the next few months in a hospital bed thanks to Enid. Then the fire that had destroyed a good half of the dormitories ; aside from the trauma it inflicted on all of the students, it took some organization to find arrangements to keep a roof above everyone’s head.

On a personal level you had to deal with physical recovery, which was slow but not doing so bad after all. People at school did not look at you with utter disdain anymore – the two students you rescued even hugged you. Hell, even Bianca Barclay definitely buried the war hatchet. But the problem lies elsewhere.

Tyler hadn’t been the same after that fateful night. Of course, when you two reunited in the infirmary, he had brought you in a bone-crushing hug for long minutes, not caring if anyone saw his tears of relief. Then he had kissed you senseless, drunk in joy of holding you alive and well in his arms again. But the overwhelming joy of reuniting had been short-lived.

If he refused to leave your side – as if you would ever leave him either – he always stood a little setback. Like putting a safe distance between the two of you, not too important to mean a break up, but enough to miss him; to miss the old him, to miss how you were together. The first days he didn’t even dare to touch you, it was always you who initiated the physical contacts, reassuring him this was more than alright. Now he didn’t hesitate anymore but you still sensed him stiff in some of your embraces. More held back.

Fidgeting with the bandages on your left hand, you felt your heart squeeze at the thought. With everything going on in the aftermath of the whole story, you didn't really have time to speak about it yet. Maybe today was the right moment.

The sound of the door opening made your head lift up. Exiting the principal’s office, Tyler had his shoulders slouched despite the encouraging smile of Weems behind him. When he saw you, your boyfriend gave you a sincere, soft smile. But it didn’t last long and only a few seconds after he looked away, almost ashamed and scurried to the end of the corridor without another word.

Mouth agape, you watched him practically running away from you without any explanation. The headmistress calling your name tore you out of your deception surprise and you turned to her.

“I’ll be with you in a couple of minutes, Miss Van Helsing. Do you mind waiting a little more?”

Still taken aback by your boyfriend’s odd behavior, you only nod your head to the Headmistress, who gave you a small smile before shutting her office’s door. Sighing, you slumped in your chair feeling a bit lost.

“How are you holding up?”

The sound of her voice made you realize that Dr.Fern had taken the seat next to yours. The fae therapist was looking at you with kind, concerned eyes. Although she knew you weren’t going to pour all your emotions on the spot, the aura of wariness and sadness you carried around kind of worried her.

Despite her original thought, you shrugged. “I’ve been better. I’ve been worse too, so I guess not so bad in the end.”

That made the fae smile sadly. Surely you hadn’t the best coping mechanism, but in all honesty after everything you went through, she thought that you were, indeed, not doing so bad. As to prove that, you dodged the subject.

“Why are you here?” you genuinely asked. “I thought that Weems only wanted to hear the testimonies of people who had been here?”

“She wanted my insight on the self-defense aspect of Tyler’s transformation,” she said. “Although it was more for a legal aspect, I’m pretty sure she had been convinced of it before I even stepped in the room. I wouldn’t worry about him being framed again.”

You nodded, grateful to hear that. Still, the pained look in your eyes didn’t fade away; this wasn’t what was truly bothering you. Sighing deeply again, you slumped, looking at the wall in front of you.

“How long before he gets eaten up by guilt?” you asked in a tired tone.

Dr.Fern’s eyebrows rose up a little, but frankly she was only half surprised. You didn’t seem like the kind of person to trust a therapist’s opinion, but this wasn’t the monster hunter who asked it. This was the young adult worried for her boyfriend, and afraid of how drifting apart you two were.

“He’s already plagued with guilt,” she answered after a silence. “I’m not sure it will leave so soon.”

You shook your head, more for yourself than for her. “No one’s expecting it to. Everyday I tell him he doesn’t have to feel guilty, that I don’t hold any grudge against him, I just…”

“Yes?”

You hesitated, then turned to face the therapist. The tears on the corner of your eyes stunned her.

“I don’t want to lose him,” you muttered, throat tight. “Not like that. Not when I can feel him drifting away a little more everyday, watching him destroy himself with guilt and not being able to do anything. And if he leaves I… I’m not even sure what I would do.”

The way your voice broke a little at the end of your sentence truly made her sympathetic of you. For a moment, you almost felt relieved to have been able to put words on what you felt, and to share it with someone you could trust. But just as quick, your protective self came back and you wiped the tears that were threatening to fall. The therapist respectfully looked away, knowing that showing yourself being vulnerable had been quite a progress for you already. She didn’t make any comment either when you awkwardly adjusted your posture on the chair, like nothing happened.

“You know,” she said after a silence, “I always wondered how you managed to get Tyler to let you help him.”

Frowning, you looked at her, “What do you mean?”

“Well he was always willing to take therapy sessions with me, but I’m his assigned therapist, it makes sense. However he was never too keen on letting strangers get close, did he?”

You thought about it. “I suppose?...”

“So he would never have let anyone he didn’t know help him, let alone inspiring respect right?” she continued. “Yet you managed to make him do both, I wonder how.”

Remembering the rocky beginnings of your relationship, you snorted softly, “I was a bitch to him, that’s how I did that.”

That made her smile too, “Then maybe two times’ the charm.”

The door of Weems’ office opened, the headmistress expecting you in and that put an end to your conversation. Dr.Fern gave you one last polite smile before taking her leave too, leaving you quite perplexed by the chat you two had.

But after all, maybe she was right. You didn’t want Tyler to leave because of some stupid guilt – then maybe it was time to bitch him into his way out of it. The old fashioned Y/N-Van-Helsing-way.

Twenty minutes later, after a very short and for once not unpleasant meeting with Weems, you made your way confidently to your dormitory. This part of the building had thankfully been relatively untouched by the fire, so you still had most of your belongings here. And so did Tyler. That’s why you were pretty sure you’d found him in your room, packing his things in a hurry before you came back. And that’s exactly how you found him when you bursted in the room unannounced.

A shirt in hand and the other opening a backpack, Tyler jumped in surprise, staring at you. He stood here with eyes wide as saucers, like a deer caught in headlights. You gave him a half-soft, half-snarky smile.

“Oh, you’re packing? Don’t forget your visa, you’ll need it to get to the checks-in of Dumb Man Land.”

“I– “

“Take some sweaters too,” you said casually, neatly folding one of said pieces of clothes like everything was normal, “I’m not sure that thick skull of yours would be enough to keep you warm.”

Tyler dropped his bag, approaching you slowly. “Babe I–”

“I assume you know my address to keep me updated,” you cut him, packing a pair of jeans too, “surely you already have it and planned to leave a note to me when you would have left without a word, right?”

“Hey,” he said, gripping your hand to make you face him. “Look at me.”

The two of you stared at each other for long seconds. Him with pained, guilty eyes, you with a mix of sarcasm and hurt. And just like that, he knew how pained you were, fully aware of what he had planned, no matter how much casualness and sarcasm you put into your action to stay strong. His heart broke at the sight.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I have to leave.”

“Like hell you do,” you scoffed.

The tone you used was softer than he would have thought.

“I can’t stay here with you,” he pressed, voice wavering. “I can’t be around after everything I did.”

“Says who?” you countered daringly.

At first the bold attitude had surprised, then puzzled him, but now it almost irritated him. How could you not understand?

“I do,” insisted Tyler frantically. “Don’t you see? I’m a fucking danger Y/N!”

You shrugged, “Not that I’m aware of. Well, except in bed but that’s not something I would complain about, tiger.”

The wink at the end of your sentence almost made him lose it and he gripped your shoulders frantically. Even through your clothes, you could feel his hands shake and his eyes were full of tears.

“Why don’t you get it!” he cried, on the verge of maniac tears. “None of this should have happened! I’m a fucking monster Y/N, just– look at you!” he pleaded, letting go of your shoulder to hold up your left hand – very carefully – between his larger ones. “Look at what I did to you!!”

The slap echoed before it stung. Cheek red, Tyler didn’t move his head under the sheer shock of your action. You however, stood very calm with your hand mid hair. Slowly recomposing his spirits, he turned to gaped at you.

“Did- did you just…”

“Slapped you? Hell yeah I did,” you huffed in a firm voice. “And if you’re pulling out the “You’ll be safer without me” bullshit, I swear to God I’ll fucking do it again.”

“You would be safer away from–”

Another slap landed on his other cheek, this time with your bandaged hand. The shot made the pain rise up again and you cursed at it. That made Tyler glance at you with worry. Instead, you gave him a smug smirk – or at least the best you could pull through the wince of pain.

“See? I can still slap some sense into you with my frankenstein’s hand. Seems good enough for me so drop the bullshit.”

Equally stunned by your words and your actions, Tyler could only stare at you. To be honest, he had expected every kind of reaction from you; cries, rage, maybe even begging.

But he would have never thought that you would literally punch some sense into him; it felt like the first time you had pinned him on the ground when he had tried to attack you on his first day here. Even with a half healed hand and a splintered ankle, you stood here tall and proud before him, not taking any of his shit.

As the realization sinked in him your eyes softened and you took his face in both of your hands.

“I’m fine, Tyler,” you said softly. “Doctors patched me up, I’m in one piece, the rest will heal with time. I’m fine,” you repeated, gently forcing him to look at you. “You have no reason to feel guilty about anything.”

“I attacked you,” he muttered in a broken voice. “I hurt you,” he continued, fingers grazing your bandaged hand, “how can you not be angry at me?”

A sad smile made its way to your face. “You weren’t yourself,” you reminded him, “there’s nothing to be mad about.”

Tyler could feel the sincerity of your words, he truly did. Still the guilt wasn’t so easy to brush away. So you continued.

“Do you know what hurt me the most?” you asked softly, and his eyes widened in fear. Dozens of answers swirled in his mind.

Noticing it, you caressed his cheekbone with your thumb to ground him before carrying on, “That you thought leaving me would actually help me. Or you.”

He stuttered a bit. “I…I didn’t think you would ever want to see me again,” he confessed. “Or being with me.”

You cocked your head to the side, “What did I do to make you think that? Did I act any differently with you since that night?”

“...no,” he admitted.

That, at least, made you smile sincerely. “I’m tough Tyler,” you promised. “But not tough enough to see you walk away to punish yourself and hurt the both of us in the process.”

He bore his deep brown eyes into yours, and with that you were unable to stop the tears from falling.

“I love you,” you choked on with a sob, “so I’m asking you this with everything I have: please, please, don’t leave me alone. I can’t do it anymore, not when I still get the chance to hold you in my arms, Tyler. Do you want me?”

“Always,” he answered feverishly without a doubt.

“Then let me be with you,” you smiled through tears, “I don’t want to fight alone, never again. I found a home with you Tyler Galpin, please don’t shut yourself from me again. Don’t let me shut myself to you again, or else I don’t know what kind of atrocity I would become without you.”

A beat passed. Then you were enveloped in a tight, bone-crushing hug, pressed against Tyler’s chest. The moment you felt his arms around you, you didn’t bother anymore to hold back tears and let yourself sob against his shoulder. Tyler’s face was buried in your neck, and although he didn’t make any sounds, you could feel him shake with his own sobs. You held each other tightly, painfully aware of how close you had been to losing each other just moments ago.

At some point, you didn’t really know when, you had ended up laying on the bed, still entrapped in each other’s embrace. Carefully lifting his head from your neck, Tyler pressed a long kiss against your forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I love you.”

“I know,” you sniffled, curling yourself to tug your head against his collarbone.

“I’m an idiot.”

“I know,” you repeated with a chuckle, then lifting your face to meet him. “But you’re my idiot.”

Tyler smiled warmly and pressed his lips against yours, making you sigh through the kiss. it felt like it was the first time you kissed him since that night. It felt like finally, he was back.

“Promise me you won’t abandon me,” you pleaded softly between kisses.

Looking at you lovingly, Tyler caressed your face. “I won’t,” he promised before diving on your lips again.

This time you moaned, and you slid one hand to his cheek, keeping him close to you. But then you felt him taking your hand gently in his and you broke the kiss, looking at him intensely. The freckled boy looked at your bandaged hand with sad eyes, before dropping soft kisses on each of your knuckles.

“I’m truly sorry about your hand.”

“It’ll heal,” you reassured him. “Plus, you won’t be the only one with badass scars to show off now,” you winked.

He chuckled and the sound made your heart flutter. “Or I’ll have to find how to make it up to you for the rest of my life.”

It was your turn to grin. “I’m sure you’ll find something to work with,” you teased as your other hand slid under his shirt.

Almost two months later, all of the students and professors of Nevermore academy stood in the courtyard. In front of a newly reconstructed building, Principal Weems proudly stood on a stage, delivering diplomas to last year students with large smiles.

The day was promising for everyone, for it held a symbol of accomplishment for some, of vacations for others, and for most the end of a complicated year. For Tyler and you, it was a little bit of the three.

You both stood in the courtyard among graduating students, your diploma in your right hand. Next to you, Tyler was holding your left one lovingly. His own diploma was secured in his pocket; the proof that he had made it through the year and that he was, as the agreement with the judge had specified, now a free man. He glanced at you, a soft smile on his lips. You too were free now; he couldn’t help but wonder what the two of you could do now.

As Principal Weems was making one last speech, you felt Tyler’s gaze on you and turned to him with a smile.

“What is it?”

The only sight of your smiling face brushed the lingering doubts away from Tyler’s mind. Maybe he had an idea of what you could do after all.

Raising your hand with his, he pressed a kiss on the back of it. His lips left your skin, but he still brushed one of the scars around your fingers with his thumb. All of that under your loving gaze.

“You know,” he whispered to you, “I have thought of how you could cover those scars.”

Slightly surprised, you cocked your head, “Oh yeah? How?”

Looking up at your face, Tyler gave you the soft smirk you had fallen in love with.

“By putting a ring on those fingers.”

Around you, the crowd cheered and applauded the last speech. At first you didn’t react; but then the biggest grin grew on your face. Just as if they were coming home, your lips naturally found their way to graze Tyler’s.

“Sounds like a plan, pretty boy.”

A/N: Annnnd that’s a wrap!! Again, I’m so so very sorry for the long period of time it took to write the last three chapters, and for the shitty plot of the last one QwQ Life had been complicated and hectic for the past 4 months, writting had been incredibly hard. Still, I’m satisfied with this fic and wanted to thank everyone for your patience and your kind words! Take care of yoursleves ♥♥

-Zoey

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