#just the two of them alone in the woods making love on a big fancy magically conjured bed. perfect. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

channieskies · 7 months ago

Text

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐕: 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐭

Pairing: Prince Hyunjin x Reader (AFAB)

Genre: Historical|Au, Fantasy|Au, Strangers to Lovers, Royalty|Au, Angst, Smut (Eventual), NSFW tags are under the cut.

Synopsis: The kingdom of Volantis is in disarray; the monarch rules with an iron fist. The times of hope, harmony, and kindness were buried with the queen who passed many years ago. The people are praying for a savior, but who will be their light at the end of this dark tunnel?

Authors Note: Please reblog or leave a comment to let me know how you feel. I'd love a little feedback. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it.

Word Count: 2329 [Reading Time: 10 Mins]

Disclaimer: This story does not reflect the real lives or personalities of Stray Kids. I do not know them personally. This is purely a work of fiction.

Looking for another chapter? Click here: 🇸‌🇹‌🇴‌🇷‌🇾‌ ��‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌

Warning: This chapter contains, blood, and violence, minor character death, mentions of death. Reader discretion is advised.

Minho couldn’t seem to put his finger on it, but something about that encounter with the body in the road just didn’t sit right with him. Bandits were never ones to just sit by idly and let an opportunity pass them by and what could have been a bigger opportunity than a fancy carriage that was clearly owned by high born citizens? You sat stiffly at his side, fists balled and tugging at the fabric of your trousers. Minho wasn’t alone in his feelings, you’d felt like you were being watched for miles now; being followed. Training for encounters such as this and actually going through with your training were two totally separate things. Minho got your attention and motioned for you to keep a lookout at your surroundings. Your eyes had been combing through the woods as if your life depended on it, because it very well might, especially if your gut feeling was right.

The ride was tense as you entered under the canopy of trees that lined the entrance to this side of the forest. You felt even more uneasy as your carriage moved deeper into the darkness of it. Though the trees were leaf and fruitless, it didn’t stop their branches from intertwining with one another as if holding hands. This place was devoid of life, no birds chirped, no wind brushed through the trees. No light seemed to shine here either, the thick crowns of the barren tree stands blocked out almost every speck that tried to poke through its undergrowth. You grabbed the hilt of your sword, keeping it sheathed, but ready just in case. The metal felt heavy in your hands, almost too heavy for you to wield.

You’d been tasked with the burden of carrying your family on your shoulders, even though you were a woman. Societal norms would have dictated that you stay home and take care of your family; be the high born caregiver you were bred to be. At your age, you should have been looking for a husband, if not married already. But you’d taken on the role that your brother was no longer able to fill as the family's protector and the high sense of moral duty that came with it. Meaning, you’d have to put on your big girl pants and step up to the plate if you wanted your family to survive this.

You knew the consequences of failure. You knew that if the King was to become aware that anyone was moving the prince from the frozen Isle of Arcta, that there might very well be retribution. You knew that the king had killed countless of his subjects that he thought were trying to usurp the throne, even the ones who were proven not to be guilty of such. King Seojoon’s mind had turned to madness ever since the death of his first wife; she was the only one able to quell his blood thirsty compulsions .

Not that his second wife had the will to even try. She thought she was set for life after bringing his daughters into the world. All she needed to do to make sure her life was secure, was to have a boy. But she’d failed to produce. Now more than ever, the kingdom needed its prince to be by his father's side. But bringing the prince from where he had been exiled was a risky move; but with the condition the King was in at the moment, there was no other choice. The kingdom would fall and every eye for the throne would take the opportunity to sit on it.

Your father had been in correspondence with the woman who had been caring for the prince this past eleven years, Venia. He knew of the young man like he had been there first hand to watch him grow up. You’d been there to listen to every one of her letters, so in a way, it was like you knew him too. You’d met him once, a very long time ago. You were too young to remember much, but something that stayed with you was the sad look of longing in his eyes. How he gazed from his throne to the children who laughed and played at this event. How, even if he didn’t say it, he wished to be carefree like them.

Even in recent years with his paintings that your family had received as gifts, you could still feel that sense of longing. You hoped that his longing for a sense of normalcy meant that he would fight for the common people and their right to leading a normal life. One free of tyranny and oppression like most of them were suffering under his father's rule. That's what the vast Kingdom of Volantis needed; a figure of hope and a chance for prosperity.

The forest gave off an eerie feeling. It almost felt like it had popped off the pages of a dark fairytale, one that you and Minho were now the unwilling protagonists of. Every hair on your body stood on edge as you traversed through the gloomy woodland. A twig snapped in the distance, forcing you to jerk your head in its direction. Your heart started to quicken in its pace as the fear started to creep onto your body like the winding vines that hugged the trees. You could make out what looked like a figure in the distance, but you surely didn’t want to stay in the woods and find out if your eyes were deceiving you or not. You kept your eyes in the direction of the sound as you reached to touch Minho. “Quickly. I think I see something.”

The horses moved from a casual trot to that of a gallop. You unsheathed your sword, drawing the blade. Chills went up your spine as multiple sources of maniacal laughter echoed through the forest. Your grip on the hilt tightened as you readied yourself for whatever was coming. The hit was sudden to the left side of your coach, so hard it almost tipped the carriage. That's when you saw it, the most terrifying thing you’ve ever seen in your life. You hoped it was a man, but with how it looked, you were afraid it was one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse. Dressed in all black, the wispy ends of its tattered clothing floated around it like smoke. His horse was as black as night with a long, loose mane. A beautiful Friesian horse. Normally, you would take the time to admire such a beautiful steed, but the horse was almost as terrifying as its master as it plowed its way towards you with determination.

The face of the hoydenish figure is what terrified you the most. It was skin that covered its face, but it wasn’t its own. It looked like it had been peeled off other people and sewn together to fit whomever or whatever was underneath it. Your body shook with trepidation. Fear taking over and activating your fight or flight. Everything in you, telling you to run and don’t look back. It lunged at you, its horse keeping pace with the pair of yours. You dodged, bumping into Minho, alerting him to what was taking place on your side of the drivers box, even though he was dealing with his own problems on the right. Fear was something he normally didn’t feel since he vowed to never be helpless again, but this unforeseen situation and the proximity of the creature filled him with dread. Not to mention the manned carriage that gave chase that he caught a glimpse of in his peripheral.

He pushed forward, making the horses speed up even more. Once again the creature lunged at you, narrowly missing your throat as the pace of your carriage out maneuvered his lone horse. It’s long talon like nails grabbed at your arm, shredding a small section as its fingers dug into your skin and jaggedly tugged down, successfully pulling half your body out of the box and injuring your arm greatly. You pushed and it pulled, throwing the both of you off balance. You fell forward, your face now dangerously close to the speeding spoke. Minho grabbed the back of your trousers, pulling you back before you met your end at the wheels of your own carriage. You’d unwittingly giving the pursuer time to catch up, his horse now moving toe to toe with your own. He reached for the box. Dirt and blood were caked all over his hands as he gripped the seat irons.

Your fight instincts took over, forcing you to swing your sword at it. It didn’t dodge, nor did it make a sound as your blade sliced into its arm. It moved forward, unphased by your attack. You came face to face with the terrifying creature as it pulled itself up, planting a foot on the futchell of your coach. Determined to not let your fear control you, you fought, but the thing stayed unphased, as if your blows felt like the wind against a mountain. It took each blow as if you weren't causing it any harm at all. It grabbed you, once again trying it’s best to drag you from the box by your neck. You struggled, your free hand clawing at its forearm for your life. It lifted you high, your feet dangled, the tips of your shoes were barely touching the footboard. Your dominant hand gripped your blade and swung wildly at the beast of a man. The flourishes of your sword were erratic, like you were trying to chop wood without knowing how.

With one swift movement of your sword, you swung at its neck. The feeling of the blade slicing through its skin made you sick to your stomach. It stopped a little ways in, your blade stuck. Its grip tightened around your neck, nails digging into your flesh once again. You shrieked, the pain felt as if your neck was burning, like his fingers were on fire as they dug into your skin. You needed to get away, you couldn’t breathe and this was the most pain you’d ever been in. With another wild swing at its neck, it landed in the same spot with scary accuracy. It pushed in even further this time, your blade even closer to its spinal cord. You moved to do it again, yanking your sword out of the abrasion.

You felt the warmth of its blood as it spewed from its wound. It ceased all movements, mumbled words were the only things you’d heard from it that made you believe it was remotely human. “Death.. To.. Volantians…” Its fingers finally loosened enough for you to stumble back into your coach. Its limp body fell from your carriage, just to be trampled by its own horse. You fell back into your seat, your sword clanking to the floor as it plummeted from your hand. The darkness of the forest was starting to lift, the end of the gloomy path was finally coming to an end. But you now had to live with the darkness of having taken someone's life, just to save your own. Just one more thing adding to the burden of carrying your family on your shoulders.

But you knew that this was only the beginning of your fight. You still had pursuers hot on your trail. The carriage that followed didn’t waste a second on its fallen comrade, choosing instead to speed up, catching up to your coach in no time. “Oh, come on!” You were drained, blood was trickling down your arm and neck and you had bruises everywhere. Minho could sense that you were tired, he also knew you were injured, that spot on your neck was still bleeding. He handed you the reins. “You sure?” Though he hadn’t seen this battle, due to the beast being on your side of the drivers box, you still wanted him to be sure before engaging with the rest of the scoundrels that attacked your carriage.

He nodded. His determined eyes said, “I got this, trust me.” He jumped from the drivers box into their carriage, surprising you. He hated exerting too much extra effort unless it was necessary. You guessed it was necessary. Two men climbed from the back to fight, but Minho was more than capable of handling himself. He'd trained alongside you and your sister growing up and with him being only a few years older than you, that made him the perfect sparring partner, even if most of the time he took it easy on you. A sharp pain went through your arm, the puncture wound felt as if it was throbbing. You reached to touch it and it was hot to the touch. But you didn't have time to dwell on that with the emanate danger you were in.

Minho made quick work of the thugs in the carriage and jumped back into your coach with a handful of tattered womens clothes. Your eyes widened, they looked familiar. But why? Then it dawned on you, “The person from the road? So they were bandits? I didn’t see a tattoo on the guy I fought. Did yours have any?” He nodded, tossing the clothes out. They quickly caught in the wind and flew in the same direction as the bandits coach as it crashed into a formation of rocks near the river bank. Bandits usually had tattoos to signify which group or town they were from. The ones that killed Minho’s mother were a part of Balarabe the Viper’s crew. They could be found closer to Solaris, the kingdom's main castle town. That was where you would be taking the prince. You still had a few more weeks of travel until your journey would be complete, so you knew this probably wouldn't be the last time you'd run into trouble. And more than likely that trouble would be The Viper.

A.N: Please reblog or leave a comment to let me know how you feel. I'd love a little feedback. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it.

[Rewrites, Reposts, and Translations are Prohibited]

#stray kids #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin x reader #hwang hyujin imagines #neverendingdreams #hyunjin x you #hyunjin x read #prince hyunjin #chaptered fic #kpop fanfic #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids royal au #hyunjin royal au #skz drabbles #skz au #skz x female reader

43 notes · View notes

nyxvamps · 1 year ago

Text

My Lady Nyx

This is a more of an animated vision of who Lady Nyx is. I see her as having the same vibes as Morticia Addams. Very regal and elegant and sophisticated but completely unhinged. and her kid inherited this.

She'll invite them over for tea and the blend would have dried blood in it. The most prized stag blood for her children and something a little more...outsourced for herself.

When they meet for dinners, it's always an affair. Especially if guests are invited. They dress to the T's. A dark academic, vampiric dream of flowy blouses, pressed slacks, leather boots, expensive looking cloaks, glittering jewelry. Looking like a pintrest board. Once dinner is over and the guests have left they go outside to the back garden and the children dance in the moonlight to The Cure and The Cramps and Judas Priest and give offerings to Cousin Artemis for providing the mood lighting for the evening while their mother watches with a fond smile, tapping her long sharp nails on the arm of her chair to the beat.

Lady Nyx refers to her individual children as "my daughter" "my son" "my child" and when they are all together, "my dears" "my loves" "my little bats".

Her children will refer to her as "Lady Nyx" or "Lady Night" as an initial greeting around company but then will refer to her as "Lady Mother" or "Mother Night" for the rest of the meeting. When alone, they will just call her Mother.

Her palace in the underworld feels as though it is never ending. With high elaborate archways, spiraling marble/obsidian staircases, large balconies and terraces, big glass windows, hidden rooms, a giant library. A throne room, two dining rooms (one for personal use and one for guests), a family room, a garden big enough to have a hedge maze. the list goes on.

The garden is full of plants and vegetation that requires little to no natural light and they tend to be monstrous. They might have teeth or make growling noises. There are a few that purr if you pet their petals or roots. There is one tree in the middle of the maze that thrives off of sacrificial offerings and because of this, it has blood red leaves and a slight metallic smell. It also grows the most delicious fruit you will ever taste, but unless you are of the underworld, maybe don't eat them.

All of the children receive a crown when they are born that will shift and change based on the wearers taste. They are only made with the purest of metals and finest cut gems and jewels from Lord Hades himself.

Since her children are of the underworld, they tend to have an affinity for witchcraft because of their closeness to Lady Hecate. Because of this, they will usually hold ritual during the solstices, beltane, full moons, etc in honor of their Mother. To thank the universe and the realm for bringing the gods to this plane and for allowing their Mother to have and keep the powers she has. And for allowing those powers to pass on to their children.

They have wings that can be retracted into the back unnoticeable because magic. Usually either leather, batlike wings or feathery, birdlike wings.

While at CHB, her children are regularly found wondering the woods at night uninterrupted because the harpies do not want to deal with the vibes they give off. When they are found, they smile serenely and say they were talking to Mother or just taking a stroll. But their eyes are a little wider and reflective than normal and their smile just a bit sharper. literally, they have fangs.

They casually walk around camp with fancy black umbrellas to protect them from the sun and are known to stay near the shadows or to bring the shadows to them. with clunky dollar store sunglasses and baggy dark sweatshirts on top of their platform boots with real silver studs they are usually something to look at.

You get the vibe. Thx for reading.

#child of nyx #nyx cabin #nyx headcanons #pjo #godly parents #nyx goddess #pjo headcanon #pjo au

126 notes · View notes

tacky-jack-with-a-hat · 1 year ago

Note

I have a few hc’s that make little to no sense (except for one of them):

-Gov has a reptile hyperfixation (just decided this yesterday) and owns a few snakes and likes to put hats on them and edit little stick arms onto their pictures

-Texas doesn’t actually hate the LGBTQ+ community. He just says stuff like that because his government seems to suck and punishes him when he defends us gays and theys. He’s a closeted transgender bisexual, except the closet is made of clear plastic film.

-Gov can mimic the accent of any country and/or region he wants to. It’s both fascinating and weird.

-Louisiana taught NY how to do the two-step, Cajun Jitterbug and the waltz, and NY taught him how to do a bunch of Dutch folk dances. So now they just randomly have times where they dance for hours on end in each others rooms.

-NJ has and will continue to fvck off into the woods without telling anyone. The first time he did it, NY panicked. A lot. The poor baby thought he lost one of his big brothers 😭

-NY has and does climb Alaska like a tree to get away from angry siblings and Alaska is just fine with it at this point and even throws in some "C’mon Masshole/Jersey/Connecticut, stop bullying your baby brother." and they’re just like "👁️👄👁️💢”

Not replying to all of them bc most of these are just true and I have nothing to add.

1st one makes me think when Florida brings gators to the statehouse Gov will only pretend to be mad before knitting them sweaters bc it's too for them cold. Also he has fancy tea parties with his reptile friends in top hats bc it's the closest he'll get to a good table meeting.

I now want to see him hold a bearded dragon, with tears in his eyes while other states are watching him speak to the lizard "Your name henceforth is Alexander. You are my son- my child. I will conquer land for you, I will burn empires for you, I will sacrifice my states for your happiness alone. So please- for the love of god please stop eating your hat it took me hours!"

2nd Texas: I hate gays

Every other state: we know, your boyfriend said.

5th What you just described with NY and NJ is just my friend when she first got a cat and didn't know they just disappear sometimes to do their own thing. Honestly if any two states are cats it's those two. New Jersey probably also brought back a dead animal but for different reasons.

#Reptiles are modern dragons and should be worshipped as such.#wttt #welcome to the table

13 notes · View notes

nobodysdaydreams · 2 years ago

Text

Okay, hear me out. This, but with the TMBS villains. I’ll do pre- and post-redemption. Pre-Redemption:

• Curtain makes his chefs cook an elaborate dinner just for him and SQ because he is determined to give his son the Christmas he never had. He gives SQ the most expensive and fancy art supplies money can buy. He does not, however, invite any other children, which would have made SQ very happy.

• SQ is actually having a decent day. Sure, it would be nice if the holiday was more than him and his dad, but it’s one of the few days a year he gets all his dad’s attention. Plus his art supply gets stocked up. He doesn’t really get out and buy things, so he always makes a painting for his dad, which his dad keeps on display in their house, and that really means a lot to SQ.

• Garrison is not having a good day. She was the only person invited to spend Christmas with Curtain/SQ (which Curtain did out of fake polite friendship knowing full well she would decline because she’d feel too awkward). She does in fact decline saying she has plans, but she does not. She doesn’t participate in any public Christmas charity events/church services and doesn’t like being around happy children/families because these things all make her feel extremely guilty (I wonder why). She also doesn’t have any other friends or family, so she considers coming up with something to do for Christmas, then decides against it because she feels she doesn’t deserve happiness, ends up drinking, feels guilty about that, and spends the rest of the Christmas in bed alone waiting for the day to be over.

•Jackson and Jillson spend Christmas with each other and get each other exactly what they want, which usually ends up being the same thing (although they both insist the real gift is each other).

• Jeffers tries his best to get everyone a gift that will impress them (especially Curtain/SQ so he can win favor with the boss). He fails in every conceivable way. He’s gotten SQ candies that he’s allergic to two years in a row because he forgot about what happened the first time.

• Marlon hates Christmas and joy in general. He hates that charities become more active around Christmas because he believes the poor just don’t work hard enough. He also hates happy children, stating that they are too loud and says that Christmas lights are too bright and Christmas carols are obnoxious.

• Martina goes home to spend Christmas with her parents. She gets new tether-ball equipment. It’s nice, but she wishes her family was more impressed with her being the top student at the institute and asked her more about it.

Post-redemption:

• Nathaniel buys everyone ridiculously expensive gifts that he has spent the year researching in order to make up for what he’s done to everyone (even though logically this doesn’t make up for it and everyone insists that he doesn’t have to do that, he really feels like he has to). So he gets Sticky a fancy science kit, Constance new poetry journals, number 2 a wood-working kit, etc. As much as it’s obvious to everyone that Nathaniel is in some sense trying to buy their affection, they actually do love their gifts, and they are all very thoughtful and it’s obvious that to some degree, he actually does care.

• SQ is having the best day of his life. He paints gifts for everyone, and has a marvelous time partaking in Christmas traditions. Because he’s never done anything besides Christmas with his dad before he does everything and I mean everything. He goes caroling, he goes ice skating, he makes a gingerbread house, he volunteers at a local charity, he goes to a church service and sings carols and hymns even though he doesn’t really know the words, he goes window shopping, he goes sledding and has a snowball fight, he helps cook a big dinner and bake cookies with his dad and his new extended family, and by the end of the day he’s exhausted but happier than he’s ever been.

• Garrison gives herself the gift of therapy and spends Christmas doing community service to make amends for her past and work towards a better future. This makes her very happy. She stays sober and somehow gets adopted into Nicholas’ found family which is super awkward for her and Nathaniel (who made alliances with the society separately) and it’s weird for both of them seeing Milligan and Kate there, but she’s surprised at how easily they can forgive or at the very least tolerate her presence and how she might be able to forgive or at least tolerate Nathaniel as well and actually have a decent holiday together.

• Jackson and Jillson have the same Christmas they always have: they get each other the perfect gift, which ends up being the same thing, then insist the real gift is each other. This time they somehow show up at Nicholas’ house too, no one knows who invited them or where they came from, but no one really questions it.

• Jeffers has a Christmas miracle moment and realizes that maybe there’s more to life than being an evil henchmen (plus he sucked at it anyway) so he retires and starts a self-help program for other henchmen trying to get a new start in life.

• Marlon still hates Christmas and joy so he spends the holiday working alone where at least he won’t be spreading his misery to others.

• Martina brings her parents to Nicholas’ party to meet her friends. At first it’s a bit awkward because they have no idea what to expect, but realizing they’ve been so distant from their daughter’s life makes them want to get to know her friends and take a more active role in her life, which makes Martina very happy.

okay but the mysterious benedict society trying to celebrate the holidays and the chaos that would ensue???

everyone has a kind of weird relationship with the holidays given their respectively traumatic family histories, but they want to try to make work now with the kids around and everyone creating their new found families

number two makes an outrageous amount of food that simultaneously caters to everyone’s and no one’s diets and preferences

constance wears an adorable christmas dress and lets no one comment on it (rhonda made it for her and constance says it’s uncomfortable yet wears it all the time)

no one knows how to properly wrap gifts (except for number two)

not everyone in the society celebrates christmas so the house is decorated in a clusterfuck of differently themed decorations for all the different holidays

Mr Benedict drinks a little too much mulled wine and starts playing the piano and singing christmas carols in the most off-key voice imaginable (milligan joins him, equally drunk)

kate gets everyone stuff she made herself and they’re nice but they’re also all weapons

kate also insists on doing very questionable traditions that she learned back at the circus (”guys let’s do shots of Snaps!” “Kate you’re THIRTEEN”)

milligan gets the biggest possible christmas tree that barely fits through the front door (á la hagrid)

turns out sticky is a master at baking (because it’s essentially edible chemistry) so he just churns out huge batches of cookies as a new way to cope with his anxiety

reynie gets the other kids the corniest possible gifts – i’m talking friendship bracelets and/or matching sweater vests – and writes even cornier christmas rhymes

constance insults all the gifts she receives (but secretly loves them)

constance also writes everyone very offensive but festive poems

feel free to add to this

#I feel like this is pretty accurate #the mysterious benedict society #nathaniel benedict #sq curtain #sq benedict #sq pedalian #martina crowe #dr. garrison #tmbs

180 notes · View notes

avocado-writing · 2 years ago

Text

Astraphobia

Ryan Lucan (Life Is Strange: True Colors) x GN! Reader

| Rated: E

| 2.8k words

| Summary: You’ve known Ryan for the past twenty years, and been in love with him for about eighteen of them.

Hey! It’s your last night on fire lookout, right?

You’re not watching your phone for Ryan’s reply. You're not. And you definitely don't spring to read it when he does, a moment later.

Yeah. Promises to be thrilling.

You smile to yourself, looking out of the window at the rainclouds rolling in overhead. The downpour is due to be so torrential that if anyone could start a fire you’d give them an award.

You fancy some company at the watchtower? I can bring snacks.

An ellipses appears, disappears. Appears again.

I don’t know. That’s not really protocol…

No drink, no weed. Completely sober. Just thought you might want some company, seeing as you’ll be stuck there just watching rain otherwise.

When there’s no immediate response:

C’mon. Better than listening to your nature CDs for the thirtieth time over. What is it this time? “let’s get wild with wildcats: your audio guide to identifying predators in North America”?

More ellipses.

Okay, okay. You win. But you leave me and my CDs alone.

You grin down at your phone.

I was right, wasn't i. It was the wildcat one.

I plead the fifth.

Ah, Ryan Lucan. Your best friend. You’ve known him for the past twenty years, and been in love with him for about eighteen of them. He, sweet gentle boy that he is, is totally oblivious. Which is good. It means you can stare at him longingly without giving the game away. Wonder how his stubble would feel if you were kissing. How tightly those well-toned arms could hold you.

It’s fine. You’re fine. Well, not really. But you’re not going to tell him that and risk years of friendship, are you?

So you load some stuff into your car, shrug on your coat, and start the drive out to Ryan’s firewatch tower. And put a cork in your feelings like you have every time you've seen him for years.

Ryan holds the door of the little tower open for you as you scurry in, just before the rain starts to hit too hard. You’ve got a cardboard box grasped in your arms, after all, so can’t really operate any handles.

“Geez, it kinda looks like you’re moving in,” Ryan says with a gentle smile. You shake the few droplets that got you out of your hair, make a show of looking round the place.

“Pretty open. Nice square footage,” you remark as you look around, like a potential tenant would at an apartment viewing. “What’s the rent cost?”

“It’s free! But you do have to be ready for wildfires to spring up at any time. That’s the catch.”

“Pretty big catch,” you concede, dropping the box on his bed and fishing something out. “Can I install my own lighting?”

You hold up a string of lights and grin. Ryan can’t hold back a laugh.

“You brought string lights?”

“Of course I did. They’re whimsical.”

There’s very little in the way of furniture in the tower. A bed, a desk, a small make-do kitchen. You wind the wire around the metal bedframe the best you can.

“Ta-da!” you say, showing off your handiwork. Ryan gives a cocked smile, and your heart skips a beat.

“They certainly brighten up the place.”

“And that’s not all the gifts I come bearing.”

You reach into your box and bring out three key ingredients - graham crackers, marshmallows, and chocolate.

“I know we aren’t technically camping, but we are in the middle of the woods. So s’mores are pretty much compulsory.”

Ryan looks doubtfully at his small oven for a moment, but then shrugs.

“I’m sure we can find a way.”

Within the next half hour the two of you are sitting on the floor next to your string lights, trying to catch the dollops of marshmallow dripping out of your impromptu s’mores.

“Maybe this wasn’t the best idea,” you sigh, trying to pick up some crumbs but only succeeding in smearing some chocolate on the wooden floor. Ryan wipes a piece of cracker out of his beard and then sucks it off his thumb.

“No. The idea was good. You always have good ideas.”

He holds your gaze for a moment, then looks at the gently twinkling lights.

“They call them fairy lights in Britain. Isn’t that fun?”

“It is fun,” Ryan says, nodding. A beat, and then: “do you remember when we went hunting for fairies when we were kids?”

You pause in your munching. Wipe your fingers on a napkin.

“Did we?”

“Yeah. We were, what, seven? You were convinced you’d seen something under the bridge. We were down there for the whole day, digging in the mud, and we were filthy by the end of it. I think we both got in deep trouble. Never did find those fairies, though.”

Yeah. Actually, it’s coming back to you.

That was the day you first realised you were in love with him.

Being eight, feeling your heart stir in your chest when you looked over and saw your best friend, bright-eyed and gap-toothed rooting around in the muck because of something you swore you saw. The blinding grin he gave you when you caught his eye.

Ryan looks like he wants to say something. He opens his mouth –

But when the first peal of the storm rolls over the sky, you freeze in place.

Fuck. You checked the forecast twice before you came out. It wasn’t meant to storm.

Ryan notices your reaction immediately.

“Are you okay?”

You shake your head, digging your nails into your legs.

Yeah. You’re terrified of them. Always have been, since you were a kid. They’re too loud, too bright, too unpredictable.

“Come here.”

His voice is soft but leaves no room for argument. He meets you as you shuffle over, pulling you into his arms. You flit between squeezing your hands over your eyes and over your ears, unsure which is better.

“It won’t hurt you,” he whispers, “this whole thing is grounded. Did you see the copper wires outside?”

“It will hurt me,” you hiss, “didn’t you read about that town that got destroyed by a storm?!”

Another clap of thunder rolls through the building and you almost scream. You bury your face in Ryan’s chest. The slow, steady beat of his heart is the absolute parallel to yours, which feels like it’s going a hundred miles an hour.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. I've got you. I have you,” he says, quietly. The arm around you tightens, pulling you to the solid heat of his body. As you squeeze your eyes shut and wait for the thunder to end you feel his thumb begin to rub slow, relaxing circles into your shoulder.

He whispers something. You think he just guesses you can’t hear it over the sound of the storm. But being right here, so close to him?

Well, you get every word.

“I’ve always had you,” he says. There’s something different in his voice. Something you’ve not heard before.

Something… longing.

You pull back just enough to look into his eyes. They look into yours, searching, and then drop to your lips.

“Ryan…” you whisper. Everything feels like a flood. The smell of petrichor rising from outside. The storm rumbling all around. Ryan’s shirt beneath your hands. The soft parting of his lips.

It all clicks into place at once. Oh god. He feels the same.

“Can I kiss you?” he manages, finally able to string together a sentence.

“Yes.”

And he does.

All the times you’ve dreamt about this it’s been an electric thing. With tongues meeting and teeth clacking, the dive of hands under clothes. But this isn’t that. It’s so much better.

Ryan’s lips are soft and sure as he presses them onto yours. Chaste, to begin with, but as soon as you respond he goes deeper. Your mouth parts a little so you can taste his bottom lip, take a tiny swipe at it just with the tip of your tongue. He makes a sound in the back of his throat and reaches up to gently card his hand through your hair. Just once. Just to know how it feels.

This kiss is perfect. This kiss is so… Ryan.

When you’re finished, you rest your foreheads together. Breathe in the same air for a moment. The tips of your noses touch and both of you cannot stop smiling.

“That was…”

“Great?” you hazard. He gives a little chuckle.

“I was going to say, ‘something I’d like to do again.’”

So you do. You close the distance once more, kissing him a little bit more passionately this time. Feeling your body pressed up against his, Ryan takes his cue and lies back on the rug, bringing you with him to lay on top. His hands stroke up and down your sides before eventually settling on your hips.

This kiss takes your breath away properly. You’re heavy-lidded when you finally open your eyes. His pupils are blown wide, breathing heavy.

“Is,” he manages between pants, “is this okay?”

You nod so hard you almost headbutt him.

“Can I touch you some more?”

“Fuck. Please.”

His hand skims up your body to your chest, giving you a gentle caress when he gets there. You hum at the feeling. When his other hand cups your cheek, brushing your lip with his thumb, you reach out the tip of your tongue to touch it.

“Oh god,” he whispers, “you’re so… you’re better than I imagined.”

“Imagined, huh?” you ask, trying to sound seductive but genuinely surprised. He swallows thickly and you watch his Adam’s apple deliciously bob in his throat.

“Y…yeah…”

He sounds embarrassed. You catch the hand on your face with your own, pressing a kiss into his palm.

“It’s okay. Me too.”

Ryan breathes a sigh of relief.

“C’mere.”

He drags you back down to kiss, and this time you can feel his hardness pressing against your leg.

This is happening. This is happening.

“Can I do something about that?” you ask. Another swallow, a trepidatious nod as if he can’t quite believe this is happening. As if it may cease to be at any possible moment.

He watches, hawk-like, as you make your way down his body, pausing when you get to the zipper of his jeans. You release him slowly, seeing the way his breath hitches when you take him out of his boxer briefs.

His cock is pretty much hard as soon as you touch him. You give him a single, experimental pump, and watch him close his eyes and moan.

That. That is a sound you could get used to.

You work his shaft lazily in your hand, watching in delight as he gasps and bucks. He’s a nice size, one you can easily imagine filling you to the brim. He opens his mouth to say something to you, but all power of speech is short-circuited when you lick his head.

He makes a strangled little noise of delight, amazed. He tastes like salt and sweat, and so you do it again. The thunder outside barely registers now.

“Oh my god,” he whispers.

He reaches down to brush a strand of hair from your face, but makes no other move to grab you in any way. Maybe he’s worried he’d seem too forceful if he did that. You don’t need any encouragement though, anyway - you take him in your mouth and suck him until he reaches the back of your throat.

He begins to chant your name like a prayer, torn between squeezing his eyes shut in ecstasy and watching your every move. You bob your head up and down his length, playing with his slit each time you reach the top, using your tongue to tease him.

“How are you so good at this,” he groans. You answer him by taking him all the way down to the base. You watch in delight as he has to use all the restraint in his body not to rut up into you.

“Stop, shit, stop, or I’ll… and I don’t want to…” he manages. You’re merciful, so do as you’re bid. A light sheen of sweat has broken out on his forehead, he wipes it away with his shirt after he takes it off.

Oh god. He has so many muscles. How can one human have that many muscles? It’s not fair.

“Do you want to sit on my face?” he says with such a simple earnestness you almost laugh. Instead you kiss him, sloppy and hard.

“Next time. Right now, I want to be on top of you.”

“There’s… there’ll be a next time? This isn’t just to distract you from the storm?”

His eyes search yours for the truth. You feel a bit heartbroken he could even think of himself as a one-time thing.

“Oh, Ryan. Fuck. Of course there’ll be a next time. If you want.” And then, because you’re feeling brave, “I’ve been in love with you since we were kids.”

In that moment, with the storm outside, and the two of you all alone here, it feels like anything could happen.

And anything does.

“I’ve been in love with you since we were kids,” he replies, amazed.

A thousand things spring through your mind. Since when? Was it the same day I started loving you? Did it break your heart when I got into relationships, like you broke mine? Have you always wanted to grab me and kiss me over the bar? Did you think about me during sex with other people?

Instead you land on, “Do you have a condom or shall I get the one in my backpack?”

He shakes his head, but it’s easy for you to grab your bag and grab the little foil packet. You realise, in that moment, you’re still on the fucking floor - but you’re not going to move even if the forces of nature try to teat you apart.

You practically tear off your jeans and Ryan kicks his off of his legs, rolling the condom on him in one easy movement. You position yourself over him and go to sink down.

“Wait-!”

You stop, look at him.

“Are you sure?” he asks, sincerely.

Oh, Ryan. The only man you know who’d double check your consent when his dick was millimetres away from being inside you. The best man you know.

“Of course.”

He holds his cock, lining himself up with you as you press him inside.

You’re right. He’s a delicious stretch, but you take him all. In your haste to start fucking him you’ve neglected to remove your shirt, which Ryan reaches up and helps you shrug off. He falls back and watches you, naked, sitting on him, with such reverence it looks like he might start to pray.

You move your hips and he groans.

“Oh god, you’re so good…” he whispers, hands once again settling on your hips. Slowly you start to ride him, grinning at the feeling of his dick pressing against that sweet spot inside. Your hand buries in the hair on his chest and you pull it gently, playing with the coarseness.

When he reaches between your legs, and when he touches you you see stars. A crack of lightning strikes outside. It’s poetic, because his touch makes it feel like that’s what’s running through your veins.

“Ryan,” you choke.

“I know,” he agrees, rolling his hips up to yours, gently fucking into you when you slow the pace down. You plant both your hands on him this time and start to ride him properly. Hips pressed together you bear down on him, giddy in the friction you feel inside you. It doesn’t take long for you to know you’re about to come, and from the way he grits his teeth, you know he must be close too.

“Oh my god,” he whispers as you clench around him, and a tiny thrust up from him pushes you over the edge. As you crescendo Ryan’s fingers bury into your skin as he releases, a low, low groan being dragged from the depths of his soul.

You collapse next to him, sweaty, but more alive than you’ve ever been before.

Outside the storm has rolled past.

There’s no talking for a moment, just the sound of breathing getting slower and back to normal. Then Ryan takes your hand, sliding his fingers between yours.

“I know we’ve kinda done this in the wrong order. But, ah, do you want to go on a date?” he asks, sheepishly. You snort at how shy the question is, but reach over and start your answer with a kiss.

“Yeah, Ryan. Of course.”

“I, ah. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You can hear the smile in your voice.

#Ryan Lucan x reader #Ryan Lucan/Reader #Ryan life is strange x reader

249 notes · View notes

separatist-apologist · 2 years ago

Text

A Mythical Thing

I'm begging for you to take my hand. Wreck my plans.

Summary: A creature of scales and shadows lurks just beyond the woods. Watching.

Waiting.

For a priestess bathed in light and the shimmering bond that tethers them together.

A moment of impulsivity drives them together, wrapping them in fates golden ribbon.

Azriel will do anything to make her his.

Read More: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | AO3

Just as Azriel had promised, he’d asked Cassian for a space to train not just Gwyn, but Emerie and Nesta, too. Cassian had joined in, clearly curious about Nesta though he was trying not to be. Gwyn didn’t mind it—Cassian was much easier to talk to than Azriel, who watched the three of them with disapproving eyes. Nesta was easily the least coordinated of the three of them, which gave Gwyn a secret amount of joy given how irritable Nesta was.

She didn’t want to be trapped among them. It was practical. Some dragon prince had stolen a human princess, and Cassian was concerned there would be retaliation. Nesta’s sister was engaged to some fancy human lord despite having the literal king of the dragons as a mate, and her other sister had a baby with some feral dragon in the woods.

Gwyn never tired of hearing Nesta talk, even if she could be mean about it. Nothing would ever be as fascinating as Nesta’s interpersonal drama. Nesta was also interested in Gwyn and accepting the bond, but that was hardly as fascinating.

“We had sex,” she said, loud enough for Azriel to trip over his steps, all but crashing into the weapons cart.

“Did it hurt?” Nesta asked, not daring to look at Cassian though he was absolutely looking at her. Their training ring was hidden from the main part of the city, cleared of snow and other debris so they could learn to use their bodies like weapons. Emerie was the best and Gwyn fell somewhere in the middle, much to Azriel’s immense pleasure. She thought he might have returned her if Nesta was better.

Cassian was listening a little too carefully though he was trying to seem as if he wasn’t. Azriel, too, was eagle-eyed across the ring, as if he hadn’t been there. As if they hadn’t had sex just that morning.

“No,” Gwyn whispered, half annoyed with the males circling them like vultures. This felt too private to be blabbing about, especially when Azriel immediately straightened, all but preening as he went back to arranging the weapons.

Emerie seemed to realize what was happening, too. Brown eyes snapped to the males as she said, “You two should spend the night with me tonight. Just girls,” she added, her gaze bouncing between Cassian and Azriel.

“Yes,” Nesta breathed as Gwyn nodded fervently. And though she knew Cassian and Azriel didn’t like it, they could not deny their mates. It was a fun little loophole to getting what she wanted, as whatever compulsion Azriel felt to make her happy did not exist the same way in Gwyn. He looked down at her with big, sad eyes that evening, clearly hoping she’d change her mind.

She’d spent every waking moment with him over the last month. She loved him, and yet Gwyn couldn’t pretend she didn’t also want real, honest-to-gods friends. Since Catrin died, Gwyn had been achingly alone. Azriel filled most of that void but Nesta and Emerie presented a new opportunity for sisters. They weren’t a replacement for Catrin—no one was—but they could occupy the space Catrin had left behind.

Emerie locked up her shop early once Cassian deposited Nesta at the front door. He wasn’t as reluctant as Azriel had been, likely because Nesta had made it exceedingly clear she did not want to be in Windhaven and especially did not want to be his mate. Gwyn felt a prick of sympathy for him. Cassian was so obviously trying to walk the line between his own instincts and what she wanted.

To be a leader to his people and carve out some happiness of his own. What was it like, she wondered, watching the others kidnap their mates and make it work while he remained distant and polite to no avail. Would Nesta like Cassian better if he’d taken her somewhere remote and isolated her?

Somehow, Gwyn doubted it.

The second floor of Emerie’s shop was her little home. It was big enough for the three of them to pile blankets on top of the wood floor and spread out, all but drowning in a sea of pillows. There were no males lurking here, no one to eavesdrop. They could be honest.

“So what’s going on with you and Cassian?” Emerie asked the very first second they were settled. Nesta, the clear outsider, went stiff. Hugging a pillow to her chest, Nesta shrugged defensively.

“Do you like him?” Gwyn asked curiously.

“He’s…fine,” Nesta conceded.

“Then what—”

“My younger sister was supposed to be sacrificed to some terrible, golden dragon. I watched them put her in a cart and drag her away. All the men spoke about for days afterwards was how he probably…” her cheeks flushed, embarrassed. Gwyn could imagine. Men were obsessed to the point of arousal at the thought of women experiencing sexual violence. “She was supposed to be dead. And my other sister—Feyre—begged them to go looking for her. We got a letter saying she was okay, but maybe…maybe it was a game? Some cruel prank.”

“This is the sister who is having the baby?” Emerie clarified.

Nesta nodded.

“They brought him back in irons. No clothes, face bloodied. Laughing at what that creature had done to her. How she was pregnant and…” Nesta shuddered.

Gwyn took a breath, feeling awful at how harshly they’d judged Nesta.

“And then Elain returned, in love with the monster we’d been taught to fear. She brought all of them with her. She brought Cassian. And he’s not like Lucien, who is a little wild but keeps to himself. Cassian is…”

Emerie nodded, but Gwyn didn’t understand. Maybe because she’d never seen Lucien, but Cassian seemed wholly nice and if he’d been her mate, she didn’t think she’d have a problem loving him.

“One evening I’m in bed, sick over what a monster did to my sister and the next she’s breaking into our home and she’s brought a man with her who claims we’re fated to be together. Tied by some string only he can feel. General of the dragons…second in command to a king and I…”

Nesta sucked in a shuddering breath. “Maybe it worked out for Elain. She could be happy anywhere. Taming some wild, terrible monster is the exact sort of thing she’d do. Of course she found something to love. But I’m not Elain, and I know what men like that are like.”

“Cassian isn’t a man,” Emerie murmured, some color rising in her brown cheeks. Gwyn wondered if she wasn’t feeling defensive of her people. “He’s male, and harming a female is the gravest of offenses.”

“Then why don’t you marry him?”

Emerie barked out a laugh. “I don’t like males, even honorable ones. If you don’t want Cassian, reject the bond.”

Nesta sat up a little straighter. “How?”

“Just…tell him. He’ll let you go if you say you’re rejecting it.”

Gwyn looked down at her hands, unable to stomach the thought. How terrible for Cassian, to want a mate likely his whole life, only for her to reject him. She couldn’t help herself as she asked,

“You really want to go back to that place?”

Nesta was quiet for a moment. “I don’t know how to turn my back on my humanity…on my life.”

“Must have been a good life, then,” Emerie interjected smoothly. Gwyn looked up, unsettled to find Nesta’s silvery blue eyes fixated on her.

“What happened?” Nesta asked her.

“Don’t—” Emerie began, but maybe Nesta needed to know.

“Two men in my village raped my sister and I,” she said frankly. “We were thirteen and our mother had died six months earlier. They knew we’d be alone and so they came in. My sister fought back and they killed her for it. I didn’t…so I got to live.”

Emerie put her hand on Gwyn’s shoulders and too late, she realized she was shaking. She needed to tell this story to people who would understand. Who knew all too well the sort of violence men so casually partook in.

Wiping the tear gathered in the corner of her eye, she continued. “Afterwards, I was deemed…too tempting to continue living there. All the married women were afraid I’d steal their husbands, I suppose. Or maybe no one wanted a reminder of what had happened. They buried Catrin and they sent me to a temple where I lived for fifteen years. Atoning for that night. And maybe…maybe I don’t need to atone.”

Nesta stared down at her hands. “I had a suitor like that once. He uh…he didn’t finish, but he got close.”

Gwyn reached out her hand, taking Nesta’s and squeezing. “We’ve never been anything but cattle to them. They packed up your sister and sent her to a monster. And look what she did in return. She loved him. Don’t you think there’s bravery in that?”

Nesta bit her bottom lip. “You’re not afraid?”

Gwyn glanced at Emerie. “No,” she finally said.

“You don’t want to go back?” Nesta pressed.

“I want to see Catrin again. To tell her I’m okay, that she can rest. And I’d like to see those men punished for what they did to her. But I’ll never live among them again. And I think, after a couple years, a lot of other women will come up here too, feeling the same way.”

“What if we went back?” Emerie said after a quiet pause. “The three of us? You could see Catrin and Nesta could…do…whatever is holding her back?”

It was clear Nesta wasn’t ready to talk about whatever that was. Still, Nesta nodded, still clutching that pillow to her chest.

“Azriel and Cassian—”

“Don’t have to know,” Emerie replied. “I have wings, too. I fly just as well as they do. We’ll tell them we’re having another sleepover and just go.”

Gwyn looked up at Nesta before nodding to Emerie.

“As long as they don’t find out.”

Azriel would kill her—not literally, of course. But metaphorically, with his silent disappointment. He’d been training her for the express purpose of taking her himself, of standing behind her silently while she exacted her revenge. Gwyn had always liked that idea, right up until the moment Emerie proposed a different solution. One in which she went alone, dagger in hand, and executed those men without help. Without Azriel’s wounded pride getting in her way.

Nesta was the last to agree.

“I don’t want to go back to my village yet,” she whispered. “But I’ll come with Gwyn to hers. I’m…I’m not ready.”

Emerie nodded, clasping both Nesta and Gwyn’s hands in her own.

“Then it’s settled.”

AZRIEL:

It was a restless night without his mate, made worse by how happy she was when he came to retrieve her that next morning. She was making plans to do it again, hugging even the imperiously cold Nesta Archeron. Bubbly and bright and so lovely, Azriel was pleased to see Cassian’s mate hug her back before retreating inside. Cassian was considering asking Emerie to let Nesta remain with her, given how poorly the bond between them was going.

Cassian, though he didn’t say so, was terrified Nesta would reject it. Distance was better than a flat out refusal and if it had been Azriel in Cassian’s shoes, he probably would have made the same choice.

“Have fun?” Azriel asked Gwyn when they returned home. She shook snow out of her coppery hair, cheeks flushed from the cold. He’d never get over how beautiful she was. Gwyn nodded happily, flinging her arms around his neck.

“You aren’t upset I left you?” she asked, kissing his cheek just the way he liked. Of all the places she put her mouth, that was his favorite. Azriel wrapped his arms around her body, all his dislike melting into contentment.

“No,” he replied, half dragging her into the living room so he could put her on his lap. She snuggled against him, head just beneath his chin. “I’m glad you’re making friends.”

She inhaled against the fabric of his shirt. “If I’m going to live here, it should feel like home, right?”

His whole body was tight. “Yes,” he agreed. She was so reasonable and he was so grumpy.

“You don’t mind sharing?” she added, reading his mind.

Azriel huffed. “I will learn.”

“I hope so. I think Nesta feels a little better than she did last night. Do you know what happened in her village?”

Azriel shook his head. “I wasn’t there for it. I know very little.”

“Hm,” she murmured. “Something happened, and it made her scared to leave and I think it’s why she’s afraid to accept Cassian. I wish I knew.”

“I’m sure you’ll learn,” he whispered.

“At the next sleepover,” Gwyn said with a confidence he was certain was deserved. “Next month.”

He nodded. A whole month between sleepless nights was hardly anything to complain about given how he’d spent centuries that way. Kissing the top of her head, Azriel thought he was unfair to complain at all. She came home to him, didn’t she? Wore his scales so obviously, and with so much pride that it was impossible not to recognize her for what she was? Even human males, with their dulled sense of smell, would recognize she had a mate and think twice about harming her.

Not that there were any human males so far up. It was the one thing Azriel never worried about. It would take at least a year to make Gwyn proficient enough with a blade before she could return home. To seek vengeance against the males who had wronged her. Cassian was a good teacher and Azriel was careful. He wanted her to be able to handle a dagger in her sleep before he brought her down there, and he knew he’d be watching her like a hawk the entire time.

He could step in should anything go truly wrong.

Azriel blew out a breath. “You’re mine today, though?”

“I’m yours always,” she replied, tilting her head to look up at him. Azriel hesitated for a moment, the words I love you on the tip of his tongue. He didn’t know how to tell her—if he had any right to say those words at all. She had just arrived, was adjusting to this life, this place, to him. He wished he wasn’t the first dragon in his home to take a mate. There was no one to as about these sorts of things and Azriel would be damned if he went and asked Lucien for help.

Azriel pressed another kiss against her scalp, choosing to remain silent. He’d tell her, he reasoned.

Just not when he was so scared.

“I’ll cook tonight,” he told her when she started to shift. Gwyn was half asleep against his check and it felt sacrilegious to move her. Azriel shifted, so her body was caged within his own, thighs bracketing her. “Did you sleep much last night?”

“We stayed up late,” she admitted, teal eyes bright with pleasure. It settled the wild thing in his chest. His mate was happy, which made Azriel happy. Stroking her hair, he wondered if he couldn’t lull her to sleep.

“What did you do?”

“Talk,” she whispered, fingers toying with his tunic. Was she trying to distract him, or was she distracted? Azriel couldn’t figure it out and found it didn’t matter when her delicate hand slid against his overheated skin.

He swallowed.

“About what?” he whispered.

“You,” she replied, just as he hoped she would. “How handsome you are…how big your wings are…”

“Yeah?” he said roughly, his cock stirring to life at the thought. “You think my wings are big?”

Had Emerie told Gwyn that their kind believed a big wingspan correlated to a big cock? Or had she let Gwyn brag about his large wings to Nesta, unaware of what she was actually saying? He almost hoped it was the latter, though in truth it hardly mattered.

So long as she was bragging to her friends about him.

“I think you’re the best looking male here,” Gwyn added, inflating his already ballooning pride. She thought that? Having seen not just Cassian, but a lot of the males of Windhaven? Azriel couldn’t help himself, tilting her face so he could kiss her.

“There he is,” she murmured against his lips. Azriel’s eyes flew open but Gwyn was practically straddling him, pushing up against the couch for a messy, rough kiss. “I was starting to think you didn’t miss me at all.”

Because he hadn’t torn her clothes off the very first second he’d got? Azriel was trying to be respectful, to be considerate. He liked holding his mate. Not every moment needed to be punctuated with fucking.

At least, he’d thought that right up until her arousal slammed into his chest. He could hold her and fuck her, he reasoned. It could be both. Perhaps, he thought as he glanced towards the stairs he absolutely would not wall up, he could hold her up against the wall and take her.

Azriel hauled her out of her dress, ripping the buttons without meaning to. Gwyn squealed some admonishment but he didn’t care. She had others and, barring that, could be gifted more. The thought of giving her something pretty to replace the old made him all but purr with pleasure.

He let her take him out of his tunic, shirtless before he readjusted them. Legs wrapped around his waist on their little couch, Gwyn held his face, breasts teasing his skin until he ached. He couldn’t stop kissing her, addicted to the taste of her tongue in his mouth.

Azriel stood, still kissing like his life depended on it. Maybe it did, and that's why instinct rode him so hard. All Azriel knew was if he stopped, he might actually die. He made it to his wall, holding her bare ass with one arm, the other frantically removing the pants he loathed. Absently, he wondered if he might condition her to walk around their shared home naked, too.

He wished, at any rate. The humans were so fussy about being covered.

Azriel adjusted Gwyn, sliding her down on his cock with ease. She was so wet, so warm and tight. It was all a dream to him, still. A mate. His mate.

She exhaled, clinging to his shoulders roughly. “I missed you,” she told him, teeth sinking into his skin. Azriel groaned, thrusting into her unthinkingly. Instinct drove hm, demanded he do this.

More, more, more. Would he ever reach a point where he’d had enough? Where he could relax into her, didn’t feel so achingly wild by her mere presence?

“Missed you too,” he grunted, capturing her mouth in a messy kiss. He was so bruisingly close he thought he might lose his mind entirely. He had to readjust her, hold her again with just one hand, rubbing at that bundle of nerves he liked so much until Gwyn was writhing desperately, tightening rhythmically against him over and over, all but milking his cock.

Azriel came a mere second before her, his relief shadowed by his still furious need. He rode her through it, pinned against the cool wall behind them. Nipping kisses against her collarbone, he pulled himself out of her just long enough to run them up the stairs.

“What are you doing?” Gwyn asked when he laid her out on the bed, pushing open her thighs so he could see their gleaming wet of their release sticking against her thighs.

“I’m not done with you,” he murmured, burying his face in the damp curls just above her cunt. "You smell...you smell incredible."

“Will you open a window?” she asked him. “I’m so warm.”

He glanced down at her flushed, sweaty skin, eyes falling on the deep blue scales against her fair skin. Pleasure skittered over his skin, humming just enough to keep his cock rock hard and bobbing between his thighs.

Azriel rose, turning his back just long enough to yank open a window and let cool air pour into the room. He, too, was overheated and the cold felt good against his body. Azriel turned, expecting to find her still splayed out for him.

She crawled on her hands and knees, looking at him over her shoulder.

He almost told her he loved her then. The swell of her ass, her hair framing her face…those eyes. It was nearly too much.

He didn’t. Azriel took a breath and smiled.

“Are you ready, sweet mate?” he murmured.

She put her cheek into the pillow as response.

Ready as she’d ever be.

GWYN:

“Az,” Gwyn protested at the front of their door, smiling despite herself. He was running his nose against her neck, hand curling in her hair. A month of time might have been a blink given how happy she was. How happy they both were. He hadn’t stopped touching her since she’d returned from last months sleepover with Emerie and Nesta—it had been normal enough at first.

But Gwyn was exhausted and constantly burning. She’d thought she might have a fever at first. That she’d caught something the dragons wouldn’t notice but a human body would. And in a way, she’d been right when she did the mental math backwards in her head and realized she hadn’t had a monthly bleed since she’d arrived.

He wouldn’t recognize the scent of a pregnant female because he’d never been around one. And Gwyn couldn’t tell him without risking him refusing to let her out of his sight. She saw the way he watched the full-blooded child run about, screaming and laughing while his mother tried to do her shopping. The yearning on his face was enough for Gwyn to pray Azriel didn’t piece together his new found obsession with her scent. Not until after her and Nesta and Emerie went to see Catrin.

Maybe he would have taken her.

And maybe he wouldn’t have risked it, knowing what humans had done to the women and children before. She knew if Azriel begged, she would relent and by the time he remembered his promises, those men would be dead.

The baby was too small to be seen and well protected within her body. She’d be back before he ever realized she’d left. Gwyn would tell him tomorrow at dinner. It was her promise to the mother above to absolve her of this little white lie. She’d tell him and agree to whatever he asked of her, regardless if she wanted it or not.

Azriel huffed against her skin, teeth scraping at the pulse point. “Make them wait,” he all but begged, groaning when he licked the little hurt. “You taste…”

She would have given anything to experience the world with his senses. Gwyn spun, pressing a chaste kiss to his mouth. “You’re so sweet,” she murmured, delighting when the pleased red flushed against the brown of his cheeks. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Not soon enough,” he murmured, arms wrapping around her body. She’d never get him out of this house.

“Come on,” she urged, tugging on his hand. He grabbed her cloak and hat though Gwyn relished the cold against her skin. The child inside her was warm-blooded like their father, taking it out on Gwyn. Azriel didn’t understand, jamming that hat over her head like he always did before he shifted into his massive, scaled form. His head whipped around again, nostrils flaring as he nuzzled at her body. Gwyn held herself so, so still, wondering if his dragon form knew something his two-legged form did not.

If he did, he hadn’t pieced it together. Instead, Azriel lowered himself so she could climb atop him and took off with his usual gliding joy. Gwyn was grateful for the cold, letting it seep into her body. She felt almost normal by the time they landed though Azriel frowned when he saw her.

“Your lips are blue,” he told her, fingers caressing the skin.

Touchy, touchy. Cassian watched from a few yards away, eyes bouncing between his indifferent mate and his best friend.

Gwyn leaned up on her tiptoes and pressed another kiss to his cheek. I’m sorry for this, she thought. He was so good and she loved him so much—another thing she hadn’t told him. Azriel had given no indication he felt it and Gwyn wasn’t sure what he’d do if she said it. Would he tell her he loved her too? Or would he freeze up, eyes wide as he said nothing at all.

She didn’t even know if his kind had any concept of love. Maybe the scales she wore and the ring on her finger was love to him?

“Just one night,” she whispered. Az clenched his jaw and dropped his hands to reach at his belt for his dagger.

“Just in case,” he murmured, as if he knew what she was planning. Gwyn took it, marveling at the steel blade encased in a silver hilt. Ancient runes she couldn’t read were etched into the onyx handle, smooth and worn under her fingers.

“I won’t need this,” she whispered, trying to give it back. He shook his head and this, she realized, was instincts way of recognizing what he could not. He needed to protect her, not knowing why. Giving her his blade soothed him—settled him enough to let him walk away.

“Take it,” he urged her, hands wrapped around her own. She rubbed against the scars, looking up at him with an aching heart. Gwyn surged upwards on her tiptoes.

“I love you,” she whispered in his neck. She just had to tell him. She would have exploded if she hadn’t, would have begged him to take her home and put her to bed.

His arms were around her in an instant and oh. How silly to think he couldn’t love?

Lips pressed into her hair, Azriel said, “I love you, too.” They pulled apart, watching the other for a beat. His hands returned to his side and Gwyn stepped back. “See you tomorrow?”

A smile ghosted over his lips. “Tomorrow.”

It was hell, in a strange way, to turn her back on him. Was it betrayal or was it guilt, she wondered. Maybe a mixture of both, though she didn’t dare say a word. Inside, Nesta and Emerie were watching through the window to see when Cassian and Azriel would walk away. Nesta was in pants, her golden brown hair braided in a crown around her head. It took them both a moment before they turned, backs to Emerie’s shop.

“You need to change,” Emerie said immediately, looking at Gwyn in her long, blue dress. “We’ll leave in an hour—Azriel and Cassian are going to inspect their soldiers.”

Nesta nodded. “The prince is coming tomorrow morning.”

She would know, given she lived with Cassian. They wouldn’t be thinking about the three of them for hours. Long enough for them to slip out, exact a little punishment, and slip back in.

“You don’t think we’ll make things worse?” Nesta asked, wrapping her arms around her chest. “One of my sisters still lives down there. I heard Cassian…” she sucked in a breath. “The continent is threatening war over some missing princess. They’re convinced she was killed or kidnapped by a dragon.”

“My village is small…and its far–”

“And they won’t know any of us are dragons,” Emerie added, as if the iridescent scales on her face didn’t immediately betray her. Nesta and Gwyn stared but Emerie brushed them off. “I’ll keep a hood over my face, eyes cast down. Isn’t that what human males expect of their females?”

Nesta and Gwyn couldn’t argue that.

“In and out,” Emerie added. “Two dead males, killed at the hands of human females, is hardly worth starting an incident over. Cassian won’t even blink.”

Gwyn very much doubted that. Cassian was likely going to have a problem with their entire escapade, if only because dragons seemed to spend endless time worrying about their mates. Gwyn didn’t bother saying it—Nesta hadn’t accepted the bond.

And even if she had, they didn’t own them. That’s what Gwyn told herself, anyway. She dressed in tight pants and a wrap around top, sliding Azriel’s dagger against her leg, hidden in a long, large pocket. Emerie offered up a long, white ribbon that Gwyn secured around her forehead before winding her hair through it, keeping the long strands off her face.

“Ready?” Emerie asked, glancing towards Nesta and Gwyn.

It was a terrible plan.

Foolish.

Reckless.

Nesta inclined her chin, every inch the General of their group, even if she didn’t recognize it herself.

“Let’s go.”

It wasn’t a secret when Emerie shifted, nor did they try and hide when Gwyn and Nesta climbed on her back. Cassian and Azriel were nowhere to be found, which both relieved and disappointed Gwyn. She missed him, absurdly, despite spending every waking hour with him.

He loved her.

She felt silly, as they sailed over the mountain tops, heading towards the leafy forestland that she’d once lived in, for not realizing it. Her own giddiness warred with her anxiety. She hadn’t been home in fifteen years.

Fifteen years.

She could still remember sitting, head down, as the leaders of her village decided to send her out. She’d been seated at a table by herself, her legs dangling off the chair—she hadn’t been quite tall enough to reach the floor then. All eyes on her as both men and women came forward and made complaints, arguing why her presence was a nuisance.

Why her and Catrin had brought the horror of that night on themselves.

No apologies. No one but Gwyn was ever held responsible. She’d internalized it for so long, had spent years replaying the days leading up to that night, picking apart every little thing they’d said, they’d done. Trying so desperately to find the moment where it all unraveled.

Gwyn understood it now.

They’d been too young to fight back. Unguarded.

Women. Children until it didn’t serve their purpose, and then they’d become women. And everyone knew women lied, that they weren’t trustworthy. That they tried to tempt men into all kinds of depravity. Those men, Gwyn knew now, understood exactly what they’d been doing. Had known exactly how to weaponize their small beliefs.

And it had been her and Catrin who suffered for it.

It was terrifying to land, to watch Emerie shift and hide her beautiful face beneath a dark black cloak. Hands beneath the sleeves, she looked like just another woman behind imperious, terrifying Nesta and nervous Gwyn.

“We don’t have to do this,” Nesta whispered when Gwyn hesitated. They’d come in far enough no one would notice the scaled beast overhead—Emerie was truly a beautiful dragon, with a smaller, black scaled body and the most beautiful iridescent wings Gwyn had ever seen. Light shone right through them, reflecting rainbows across her body

“I do,” Gwyn replied, checking her pockets for the dagger again. Her hands trembled, her stomach churned and yet Gwyn took that first step. Flanked by women who were slowly becoming sisters.

Catrin would have loved it.

Longing swept over Gwyn, her own scales hidden by a collar that came up to her neck. Still human, for all it mattered. And it didn’t, she thought, stepping onto the worn grass path that slowly became a dirt road. They walked quietly, listening to the hum of the village just head, arms linked. They were three females, unaccompanied by a male and yet Gwyn didn’t feel fear this time.

She kept thinking about that little girl, alone and afraid. Preyed upon. Squaring her shoulders, Gwyn swore she was who she’d needed back then. She didn’t need Azriel’s protection—she was enough. They couldn’t break her.

Never again.

Some of her fear returned when she saw the stone arches beckoning people in. Nothing had changed. She could still see herself, barefoot and wild, running over the uneven streets with Catrin. Darting beneath the archway for the very woods she’d just come out of—the same that, miles and miles away, her own mate would one day take her from.

There was no mistaking who she was. The first set of eyes that fell on her widened, the woman halting entirely as Gwyn came in. She knew they’d never expected to see her again. Hoped to never see her again. She straightened her spine, the weight of Azriel’s dagger heavy in her pants.

She’d forgotten the absolute misery of this place. In her mind, it was special. Beautiful. Because this was where she’d loved Catrin, where she’d had her sister, everything was illuminated in Catrins rosy glow.

Without her sister, a heavy gloom permeated the pointed rooftops and the stone built homes. Everything seemed to be just stitched together, much like Gwyn had been.

She faltered when a familiar—yet aging and worn—face appeared in her line of sight. That man. The one who had put his hand over Catrins face, who had killed her for daring to tell him, stepped in front of her.

“You have no right to be here,” he whispered, those milky blue eyes much too afraid to command any true authority. Gwyn stared him down, letting him see her hatred.

“Get out of my way,” she whispered, trying to keep the tremble from her voice.

“You need to leave,” he told her. Gwyn jutted her chin in the air.

“I’ve come to see my sister. You remember her,” she added. Nesta took a step towards him, lithe and lovely and so terrifying in her intensity that Catrins attacker yielded a step on instinct alone. A crowd was gathered, but Gwyn didn’t care. He was lucky she hadn’t ripped out that dagger.

It was fear that stopped her. Fear she was no better than him.

Fear that she might miss and damn them all.

They pushed forward, walking with measured steps through the village’s main road. All the way to the cemetery and its creaking, iron gates. Gwyn pushed them up, unable to stop the soft, choked sob that escaped her throat.

“Here,” an interloper's voice cut through the silence. Gwyn turned her head, drinking in a too-familiar face. She knew this girl—woman, now. Morrigan was Keir’s daughter, practically royalty if the village had such a thing. She’d never been allowed anywhere near wild and carefree Gwyn and Catrin.

Gwyn had forgotten all about her until she stepped forward. Her blonde hair was carefully pulled off a truly beautiful face. She held the hem of her red dress in one hand, reaching through the slats of the gate to unlatch it for Gwyn. Beside her, Emerie had gone utterly still, perhaps terrified Morrigan’s closeness would betray what she was.

Face mere inches from Gwyn’s, Mor whispered, “They can see the blue on your skin.” Gwyn turned to look, but Mor was stepping back, having risked too much already.

The crowd watched Gwyn push through, watched Nesta and the hidden Emerie join her. Gwyn knew exactly which crumbling, overgrown headstone belonged to Catrin. Sitting just beside their mothers, Gwyn marched to the very back, her fury threatening to consume her. How dare they. Had Catrin not been disrespected enough? Had she not suffered a terrible death? They couldn’t give her peace, even now?

Gwyn fell to her knees, ripping at the grass frantically, tossing those weeds to the side. Nesta went behind the headstone, pushing until it was upright again. Only Emerie remained on her feet, eyes hidden in shadows. The sound of the iron gate pushed open impatiently, boots thudding towards them.

“You have no—”

“I have every right!” Gwyn screamed furiously, twisting to look up at that man. “You killed her!”

She rose to her feet to face him, and for her trouble, earned a hand against her cheek. He hit her so hard she tasted blood, went flying to the ground without a second thought.

“Your sister killed—”

Gwyn screamed, pulling out Azriel’s dagger to bury in his shin. Her face ached unforgivably, her body throbbing from being tossed like a ragdoll.

Catrin’s attacker howled as more men came rushing forward, all holding swords. Emerie pushed back her hood, revealing her scaled face, her fanged teeth.

“I wouldn’t, were I you,” Nesta warned, revealing a red glinting blade she’d had strapped against her spine. Armed women were not done here. She could see the hesitation on their faces, trying to decide if they thought this was a true threat.

“Look out!” Morrigan’s voice screamed just a second too late. Something small and sharp went careening towards Emerie, catching her hard in the shoulder. Emerie’s knees buckled from the force and Gwyn wrenched out Azriel’s blade, skittering backwards as more men came rushing forward.

“If you wanted to join her so badly,” Catrin’s attacker panted. “You only had to ask.”

Gwyn looked up at the crowd, catching sight of a face that had haunted her dreams. He was old, too. And yet…and yet those brown eyes shone with the same ugliness as they had the night he’d come into her bedroom.

She swallowed.

And in the distance, something old and furious bellowed with rage. She looked at that man, peace stealing over her as his hunger was replaced with fear.

Gwyn knew what was coming.

“What was that?” someone whispered, everyone stilling.

Gwyn smiled, licking her lips.

“Death.”

AZRIEL:

Azriel was deeply unsettled as he and Cassian paced towards their gathered soldiers. Leaving Gwyn hadn’t settled well. Before had been merely a nuisance. He missed sleeping beside his mate. This, though…this felt wrong, made worse still by her whispered confession.

Like she was trying to tell him something else, something coded that he couldn’t read. Azriel couldn’t get her scent out of his nose, tha soft, powdery smell that mingled against her own. It had been driving him wild for weeks, growing stronger with each passing day.

He drew in a breath, glancing again towards Cassian. They’d been out here for an hour and all Cassian had been doing was studying him.

“Am I being too harsh again?” Azriel demanded, facing his oldest friend. The recruits had been trembling but he didn’t think he’d been any worse than usual.

Cassian shook his head. “Entirely kind, given your circumstances.”

Your circumstances. Azriel frowned. “Our circumstances are matched.”

Cassian scoffed. “How I wish.”

“Is Nesta not spending the night with Emerie?”

Cassian laughed. “You are much more laid back than me. If Nesta is ever carrying my young, I think I’ll have to put us both in a tower.”

Azriel’s ears began ringing. Carrying my young.

That scent. That new, baby soft scent.

Azriel swallowed, joy and fear bursting through his chest all at once. My young, my young— “A child.”

He was dazed and stupid, turning in a full circle in the snow like he was trying to find his tail. Cassian watched, laughing when he realized Azriel was experiencing the full range of emotions all at once. Gods, but a child? Already? How he’d hoped…but for the future. He’d just assumed…he didn’t know anything about human women or how they reproduced, and he’d been fucking her constantly, multiple times a night, every single night.

Had she known? When she’d been telling him she loved him, had she been trying to tell him this, too? And he’d been too wrapped up in his own disappointment over her friends, too weighed on by instinct, to recognize something was different.

Her heat, her discomfort, the way her eyes often glazed over, cheeks paling for no reason at all. He’d just thought she was still adjusting.

“I need to see her,” Azriel breathed. He just…he just needed her to know that he knew. That he was happy.

“Az–”

Azriel couldn’t be stopped. He shifted on instinct alone, taking to the sides with a joyful trumpet. A baby.

He left himself imagine it. Would the child have her hair or his? His scales? His wings? His ability to shift and blow fire? Would he teach the child to fly? Azriel had never dared to dream of this, not in his life. It seemed too wonderful, something impossible for the likes of him.

It was a chance to fix the mistakes of his own childhood. Gwyn’s, too. No horrible males trying to hurt them. No one trying to take away his mate. Just the three of them in that little house.

A family.

Cassian was just behind him, the pair landing on their feet in Windhaven with twin smiles. “This is good news,” Cassian told Azriel, practically bounding with joy. There were so few children to start with. Knowing they could even have them would be reassuring to males who were nervous about human females.

He went to pull open Emerie’s door, surprised to find it locked. It was mid-afternoon, and yet maybe they had decided to close up early in favor of whatever it was they did when he wasn’t around.

Azriel knocked.

And knocked.

No sounds. No whispered words, no giggling. Just oppressively quiet silence.

“Are you looking for Emerie?” a voice cut through his rising worry. Both Cassian and Azriel turned to the younger male looking back, his red scales stark against his dark skin. “She left with the humans an hour ago.”

“Left?” Cassian repeated, as if he hadn’t heard correctly. “For where?”

The male shrugged his shoulders…but Azriel knew. Gwyn, with her apologetic eyes and her whispered I love you hadn’t been trying to tell him about a baby.

She’d been apologizing for going back to see the humans. Back to that village. “I know,” Azriel whispered, hating himself for missing all the signs. He’d promised to take her, hadn’t he? What was the point of all the training? He’d always meant to.

He didn’t understand it, angry and hurt and so, so scared while he and Cassian made their way back to his home for the map Gwyn had put up on the wall. He wasn’t sure where the village was.

“Emerie is with them,” Cassian panted, his eyes shifting hazel to red over and over. As if that was supposed to make them feel better. Emerie was one of the last fully dragon females they had. If the human males harmed her…

Azriel had to swallow to keep from shifting, shaking his head back and forth to clear his thoughts, but his terror was threatening to drown him. She didn’t understand, he reasoned. Didn’t know the kind of violence the males might exact against Emerie if they realized she wasn’t human at all.

Or what else they could do to Gwyn if they saw her scales…learned of the child quietly growing in her body. Azriel snarled without meaning to, trying to settle the clawing ache in his body.

“If they touched any of them,” Azriel whispered.

And Cassian.

Reasonable, stoic, steady Cassian nearly ignited with fury. “I’ll kill them all. Fuck Rhysand’s diplomacy.”

It was what Azriel needed to hear.

They took to the skies, flapping furiously towards the humans. Azriel screamed a warning into the sky, his bellow echoed by Cassian’s blow of fire. Over and over, the sounds of their fury ricocheting off the mountaintops.

He saw her before he was close enough to land. Blood scented the air, though who it belonged to, Azriel couldn’t say. Gwyn was bleeding.

Emerie and Nesta, too. They were surrounded by males, swords drawn, in a cemetery. No one moved as he and Cassian approached, massive and utterly lethal. These weren’t the males from the battle before—trained to fight a creature with scales. These were farmers and craftsmen who only had skill overtaking human females.

Not two full grown dragons protecting their mates.

Azriel slammed to the ground first, careful not to harm Gwyn. His spiked tail curled around her, a warning to the closest male and his bleeding shin. Gwyn held Azriel’s bloodied dagger in her hand, her heart pounding in her chest.

Every male scrambled backwards when Cassian arrived. Nesta darted away from his massive form, making her way towards the bleeding Emerie.

“Get back, beasts!” a male shouted, too brave for his own good.

Azriel looked down at Gwyn, trembling beside him. Her face was purpled—marked, by one of them males. He nudged at her.

Who did this to you?

She pressed a hand against his snout before pointing a finger. “That’s the man who killed Catrin.”

He took two steps forward, opening his massive maw, and tore that male to pieces. There was nowhere to run—nowhere they could hide from him. Azriel knew he wasn’t done, not when that finger drifted towards another.

“And that’s the man…” her voice trailed off, catching softly. Azriel studied him, this cowardly creature that reeked of piss. He could not fathom it, could not understand how anyone could look at his mate and decide to harm her. Azriel had thought, when he saw the males, he would understand what evil looked like.

And he supposed he did.

Evil was ordinary.

Unremarkable.

Cowardly.

Blood still dripping from his teeth, Azriel paced forward as they humans parted, scrambling out of his path. Azriel didn’t care for his blubbering pleading. He’d lived far longer than he ever deserved. He only wished he took longer to rip his head from his body.

To spray the earth with his blood.

Cassian shifted into his two legged form, utterly horrifying in his rage. “You dare harm unarmed females?” he roared, eyes blazing red. “Under what authority?!”

There was none. Only their only lust for blood. Azriel remained in his scaled form, lest the humans decide they wanted to be bold. As if any of them could on Cassian, who was twice as big as their tallest human. Cassian crouched, sweeping Emerie up into his arms.

“I could kill you all for this.”

Nesta was watching him, eyes wide. Azriel watched her put a hesitant hand on his shoulder. She whispered, “Please don’t.”

And he knew they would all be spared. Azriel lowered his body, letting Cassian put the wounded Emerie on his back. Gwyn slid on just behind, holding her friend.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, though if she said it to him or to Emerie, Azriel didn’t know. She had nothing to apologize to him for.

She was alive.

He didn’t care about anything else.

“Wait!”

A blonde pushed through the crowd, shaking off an elder males grip. “Please. Please. Take me with you.”

“Morrigan!” the male who’d held her lunged but Morrigan was quicker, dodging his hand to reach Cassian.

“I’ll do anything,” she breathed. “Don’t leave me here.”

Nesta looked up at Cassian. Taking a human woman was risky. If Azriel were in his two-legged form, he might have warned Cassian of this. They’d caused problems today and Azriel knew it. Perhaps Cassian did too when he nodded his head yes.

Azriel huffed out a breath.

And took to the skies.

GWYN:

Emerie was fine by the time they arrived home, smiling whenever Cassian or Azriel weren’t looking at her. She’d agreed to give human Morrigan a place to stay, eyes narrowed at every other male who did a double take at the nervous, trembling blonde. Gwyn imagined Morrigan would be an object of fascination for quite a while—at least, until she had a mate to send the rest of the lurkers skittering away.

Azriel never shifted. He kept his tail curled around her when she slid off his back to help Emerie, all but caging her in. Hazel eyes sifted cerulean when she climbed over the spiked appendage to hug Nesta and Emerie, returning normal only when she touched his snout softly.

One huge wing hid her from view, pushing her closer to his warm body. Was he upset? Gwyn couldn’t tell. She had to wait until the returned home and Azriel finally shifted to know what he was thinking.

There was a wildness to him that two legged form couldn’t touch. Even without those beautiful scales, Azriel would never look human. He closed the door behind them, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“You left,” he whispered, hand holding onto the handle as if it were the only thing keeping him on both feet. “Both of you.”

She didn’t understand. “We went together—”

“You and the baby,” he interrupted softly, eyes sliding down her body to land on her stomach. “You left me.”

Gwyn wanted to cross the four feet of space and touch him. “We were coming back,” she said, guilt swimming in her chest. “I just–”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I would have gone with you.”

“I needed to go by myself,” she whispered, waiting for his yelling. For his rage, the same that had been on display in the village, to erupt out of him. She braced herself for it, straightening her spine.

His anguish intensified. “You couldn’t tell me?” he asked, his voice cracking.

“Would you have let me go?” Gwyn asked him, inching closer. She wanted to touch him so badly, wanted to beg his forgiveness even as she wanted to hold her ground.

It was Azriel who closed the gap between them, who pulled her against his body, holding her so tight her ribs ached.

“If you had to go without me, I would have let you go. I—don’t you know I would do anything for you? Even if it ripped out my own heart?”

She slid her fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be sorry,” he all but moaned, face buried in the crook of her neck. “I only want you to trust me.”

“I do trust you,” she whispered in response, pulling his face up to look at her. “And I am sorry for thinking you were like them. That you’d try and lock me away if you found out about the baby.”

One of his hands slid around her body, pressed against the flat plain to stroke gently. “I don’t own you. You’re my mate, not my prisoner.”

“Forgive me?”

“There is nothing to forgive,” he whispered. “If anything, you should forgive me—”

“For what?” she demanded as he gathered her up against his chest.

“I never wanted you to fear me,” he said, inhaling the scent of her hair.

“You killed them,” she whispered, holding his face in her hands. There was no blood there, either wiped away on their return home or magically removed when he shifted. Gwyn wasn’t sure which. It didn’t matter.

“I would do it again,” he told her softly. “For you? I would do anything.”

“Would you take me to bed?” she asked, despite the sun still shining outside.

Azriel hefted her up in his arms before she could say another word. He wasn’t smiling and oh, how Gwyn wished he would. She knew how, she thought. Azriel set her on the bed, intending to join her, but Gwyn held up a finger.

“I thought this was a pants-free bedroom?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

Azriel paused. “You’re wearing pants,” he reminded her, lips parted. She laid on her back, lifting her hips too suggestively and then with minimal effort, tossed them to the floor.

“And your shirt,” he said, jerking his head upwards.

“Bossy,” she teased, but she did as he asked.

“Lay back,” he continued. “Let me look at you.”

She did as he said, laying naked against a stack of pillows while he stared, head cocked to the side.

“Lovely,” he whispered, divesting himself of his own clothes to join her. Gwyn giggled when, instead of offering her a kiss, he pressed his hear to her stomach.

“Do you hear anything? Is it like the ocean?”

“There is a heartbeat,” he murmured. A beat of silence passed, and then—

“Loud. Strong. That’s good. She’ll need it.”

“She?”

He shrugged, heat creeping up his cheeks.

“How can you be certain?”

“I just know,” he told her, kissing her skin. “You’ll see.”

“And if you’re wrong?”

Azriel smiled.

“I won’t be.”

_ _ _

Baby Catrin was born in the dead of night. Gwyn had been restless that week, pacing the floors as snow piled outside the door. Azriel cleared it each morning, but that night the flakes poured from the sky unrelentlessly. It was a warning, she’d thought, though Gwyn had interpreted it to be an omen.

Azriel was utterly calm, a blessing given how panicked Gwyn was. He didn’t flinch at the blood and didn’t run and hide when she wept with pain. He was steady, the rock she could crash against over and over until finally that little baby arrived, wide-eyed and curious, just like her namesake.

Just as Azriel said she’d be. Soft, brown skin was covered in the most delicate blue scales, just like Azriel’s, and her hair was a thick shock of inky black, like Catrin’s had once been. She peered up at her parents, both exhausted and sweaty on the floor, with the prettiest pair of teal eyes Gwyn had ever seen.

It was Azriel who had murmured, “Catrin,” like the universe had whispered it to him. Gwyn thought she could hear her sister's laughter in that moment, could hear her heavy footsteps on the stairs, racing upwards to take a look.

Azriel looked to the door, too, waiting for those jubilant footsteps to bring the girl herself. Gwyn would have given anything for Catrin to meet her daughter. The laughter died with the phantom feet, clearing the air around Gwyn for the first time in almost sixteen years. She didn’t know how she knew it—only that Catrin was finally gone.

And she was happy, wherever she’d gone.

Gwyn fell asleep sometime close to sunrise, and woke alone in bed. For one moment, she’d been certain she’d dreamt the entire thing—Azriel, their bond, the baby. Even laying in that bed, Gwyn didn’t really believe any of it had been real. Not until she sat up and the throbbing between her legs, and the sound of soft whimpering from below her brought it all back.

Gwyn made her way gingerly down the steps.

“Shhh,” Azriel was whispering, cradling the baby in one arm as he bounced from foot to foot in the living room. The windows were piled with snow, blocking out what little light might come from outdoors. Azriel, shirtless, was letting their daughter hold one of his fingers.

The sight left her breathless.

Death has a heart.

She shifted, the weight of her body causing the floor to creak. His head snapped, expression softening when he saw her. “You’re supposed to be sleeping,” he said, coming towards her with those same, bouncy steps. It was amusing to watch and she couldn’t help but smile.

“How can I sleep when you two are down here?” she asked.

“I suppose we’ll have to join you upstairs, then,” he replied, so obviously happy.

“I’d rather stay down here and watch you two dance,” Gwyn admitted, walking towards the couch. Azriel was quick to blanket her, fussing like an older mother hen. Like a father. Gwyn was practically bursting at the sight.

He plopped down beside her, gingerly handing over the baby so that little rose petal mouth could have breakfast. He watched, eyes round and wide.

“Careful, Az, or people are going to think you’re in love,” she teased.

“I am in love,” he whispered.

“Does this mean you want more?”

He blinked, resting his head on Gwyn’s shoulder. “I don’t need more. She is enough.”

“You’re enough,” Gwyn agreed, lacing her fingers through his own.

And Azriel?

Azriel smiled.

#gwynriel #gwyn x azriel #ugh it feels so good to finish something #dumbass dragon eris is on deck next #we'll see how it goes this week #but OOF #ya girl needs a NAP

50 notes · View notes

teddy-boar · 2 years ago

Text

Historical!AU, with rich noble girl Christine Cunningham and stable boy Edward Munson:

Chrissy's family is moderately noble, having some distant ties to a local lord but nothing too fancy. They're probably merchants or vintners.

Eddie's mom died in childbirth and his father passed away in an accident when he was four. His uncle Wayne raises him

The two kids met for the first time when Wayne deemed him old enough to start working with him in the Cunningham stable, which was when he turned 8 (it was the ye olden days, ok? so this is normal 😀) and Chrissy was 6. Instant puppy crush, but neither understood what they were feeling. Eddie used to think rich girls were just snobby spoiled little things that hated his kind, but Chrissy was different. She was kind and gentle and smart and curious. But only when they were alone. He saw glimpses of her with her parents and other nobles and she looked completely different, stiff and proper like a porcelain doll in her fancy get up.

They developed a timid little friendship over their childhood years whenever Chrissy could sneak out to come see him and the horses. He taught her how to feed them and brush them, promising to teach her to ride someday but she was afraid her mother would reprimand her. Chrissy always had to bath herself thoroughly after a day spent with Eddie before supper came because her mother could smell the horses and the hay on her, and she didn't want to get lectured every time she went out to see her friend.

They start to spend more time together when they're in their teens after Chrissy is granted a little more freedom to roam around. And slowly, they start developing more intense feelings for each other and both are terrified.

Eddie talks to Wayne about it one day and the man immediately warns him off of it, "Because we're not the same, her people and us. We're dirt beneath their boots and they will never see us as equals. Best you bury those feelings, boy, before you get yourself in trouble."

Chrissy is specifically horrified because ever since she was born, she's been told there's only one person she's supposed to love and to one day marry, and it's the pastor's son, Jason Carver. She's met Jason a few times and he's a nice boy, he's polite, he's got great table manners and he can command the room's topic of discussion even as young as he is. But she doesn't love him, she loves.... Oh no.

So the two bury their feelings deep within, tension builds every time they are around one another because they just want to kiss the other

Cue the angst!!! The Cunninghams and the Carvers finally settle on an engagement and the kids are to be married in a few months. Chrissy withdraws herself and stops coming out to see Eddie. Eddie is just gutted but there's nothing he can do.

Quickly, the wedding day draws near and Chrissy just gets more and more depressed. And on the night before the big day, she sneaks out of the family manor, ventures out to the town, and finds the Munson home. Eddie lets her crawl into his window, unbelieving that this is actually happening, and they spend the whole night staying up just talking about all their feelings and emotions. They kiss and Chrissy feels like she can breathe for the first time in months.

"Let's run away together..." Eddie suggests, and through her tears, Chrissy says yes.

Eddie knows of an abandoned shack deep in the woods where there are rumors of witchcraft and demonic happenings around, but Eddie likes to use this place as his hideout and knows it is harmless. They rebuild the shack as well as its surrounding area and make it their home in the woods. Eddie steals livestock from a few farms in town to raise his own animals, while Chrissy gardens and plants their fruits and vegetables. They are self-sustainable, and thanks to the nefarious rumors of the area, no one ventures out here to find them. They can live in peace and quiet with just each other.

Feel free to add more or write a fic. Please write a fic of this, I beg of you. I don't have the vocabulary to write a period piece, I just really want one.

#eddie x chrissy #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #hellcheer #au

62 notes · View notes

wizkiddx · 3 years ago

Note

hiiiii !!! if you are accepting requests at the moment, can i ask something about reader and tom expecting a baby, one day while he’s drunk she sees him flirting with another women and when she confronts him he snaps at her and tells her he’s not ready for this “shit”. So they broke up and broke contact for months, until he shows in her apartment regretting his words and they talk but she suddenly at that moment gets into labor?!? I remember seeing a concept similar in a movie but I would love if you couldn’t bring it to life! Thank you so much in advance, appreciate your work a lot 🧸🤎

right so I loved this so much it has become a multiple parter and im not even going to apologise. so thanku so so much anon for getting me out a little rut!!!

summary: when toms caught out all hope looks lost - probs part 1 of 3 but it could get a bit longer too lol

warnings: serious angst, reference to abortion, cheating, a whole lot of swearing (im British sorry not sorry)

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

“Hi babe, just to let you know Yamna’s invited me out for dinner this evening so don’t worry if you get home early and im not back! I love you x”

It was a spur of the moment plan, which was a rarity recently. The past 5 months since you’d found out, you could name barely 5 occasions you’d been out past 8 oclock- trading your heels for fuzzy slippers and dresses for massively oversized tops and joggers. It wasn’t how you had expected to be spending the summer before your 25th birthday but it was now your life. The rooftop bars, the wild nights, the get aways had all sort of been cancelled for… for the rest of your life.

Because an 8 month pregnant belly isn’t something you can ignore.

Sure…. it wasn’t the plan. Not the plan to be pregnant with your boyfriend of only 6 months, who at the time you didn’t even live with. But you were making it work. And now, you were just excited. It was the start of a new story with Tom, and you’d got past the phase of being sad and mourning your youth. Because the little bubba inside of you, she was pretty awesome and you really couldn’t wait to meet her.

So yes, you had been home alone eating ice cream from a tub when Yamna knocked on the door. She’d been one of your best mates for as long as you could remember so when she’d turned up unannounced with mascara smeared under her eyes you’d cancelled your plans of a pathetic alone evening. Her boss had just given her the sack - which was no surprise. He was a backwards tory old git who couldn’t handle the fact Yamna was a woman doing the job better than he could ever dream of.

So yes, you’d suggested going out to the fancy new bar down the road - to celebrate the fact she no longer had to put up with the arsehole. Obviously you couldn’t drink and neither did Yamna, but you go to a bar for the atmosphere - and the selection of mocktails they had was insane.

Your boyfriend Tom was already out, he said he had a meeting and then dinner with some execs he needed to shmoosh. Of course you didn’t mind, but he had been working a lot recently, in order to be able to have the time off when your baby girl arrives.

So after sending a little text and giving Yamna another hug to try and turn the evening from disappointment to celebration you walked out the door with a smile on your face. Maybe you could pretend, just for an evening to not be pregnant and whale-like?

///////////////////////////

The bar was just a 10 minute walk so it wasn’t long before the two of you were soaking up the atmosphere. It was all decorated in a rustic fashion, with old exposed wood and dangling lightbulbs from the ceiling and the drinks were incredible. The type that have dry ice or flames or some other sort of fantastical display of edible decorations. Even Yamna had perked up, especially when a guy from the table across had bought you both a round of drinks.

“I’m just gonna pop to the loo.”

“Do you really need the toilet or do you just want to parade infornt of the fit rich man who keeps looking at you?”

“ Is both an option?” You laughed as Yamna slipped off her stool, winking rather dramatically as she did so. She was unbelievable - but at least this way she wasn’t thinking about her work, or lack thereof, anymore.

Happily you sat scrolling though your phone, seeing that tom had messaged you with an okay, before flicking through instagram.

And that was where the happiness ended.

For in a hurried manner, with a face looking a lot more ghosted than when she left, Yamna took her seat again.

“Are you okay?” Immediately your worry took over, the way she was biting her lip and not meeting your eyes not helping.

“I um yeh-yeh. Just I think I saw Tom.”

“Tom as in my Tom?” Her almost guilty looking nod had your scrunching your eyebrows, why was it such a big deal Tom was inside?

“He didn’t see me I don’t think but er… he just looked pretty close to a girl and I-“

To be honest you stopped listening at that point, heart dropping out the bottom of your chest. Because it made sense, he had been so distant recently and even if you’d been lying to yourself that it were work - this seemed much more likely. Whilst nodding along, pretending to listen to Yamna, instead your attention was solely focused on fiddling with the promise ring he’d got you after the two of you decided to keep the baby. He’d been so committed, so ready for this unexpected news. He’d said he was in for the long haul.

“Y/n?”

“sorry I um… it’s probably just a work colleague he needs to sweet talk. I’ll um-I’ll just go say hello.”

“I’m coming with you.” She spoke astutely, very much forcing herself into the situation.

“No no I’ll… I’ll come back if I need you, just wait here.”

Her face was so grim and destitute, as much as you were pretending it was okay - you knew it wasn’t. Before Yamna could protest further, you slipped off your seat ( clumsily thanks to the elephant belly) and walked with fake confidence back inside.

It took you barely 3 seconds to hone in on Tom, call it mothers intuition. He was on a booth in the corner with 5 others on his table but none of whom you recognised. It was 2 other guys and 3 girls - the six all paired off in mathcingly initimate conversations. Apart from that you payed almost zero attention to the others, attention solely focused on your boyfriend and the girl he had his arm round.

She was everything you weren’t. She was skinny - you, as previously mentioned, looked like you had a beachball stuffed under your top. She was blonde with sleek and perfectly styled waves at the tips of her long her - yours was thrown into a messy bun due to the last minute plans.

Most importantly - right now she was wrapped in Toms arms, whilst you stood alone watching.

God knows what came over you, but with confidence you never normally had you marched up to the table, just waiting at the end. One of the men you didn’t recognised, arrogantly asked you ‘can I help you’ - but you completely disregarded it, eyes solely fixed on Tom. He took a moment more to look away from the leggy girl, but as soon as he did his eyes grew massively wide.

“Y/n I-I-“

“Fancy bumping into you, I thought you were out with work executives?” Frantically casting his gaze across the table, you could see the cogs whirring to try and come up with an explanation.

“No I-I was but then Charlie here came over, we used to be mates at school and-“

“Oh fuck off Tom., I cant deal with this right now.”

You didn’t even have the energy to listen to his clearly fake excuses as to why he’d landed himself in that situation. You also certainly did not have it in you to maintain the strong face, you could feel everything shattering inside of you.

Because it was so blindingly obvious by how he had acted. You’d caught him out and you both knew it.

And it fucking hurt like hell.

So you exited the bar as fast as physically possible, hearing the shouts of both Yamna and Tom behind you. You didn’t know what you needed in that moment - except that neither of them were the answer. Tom though, presumably the faster of the two, managed to catch up - grabbing your arm to make you halt in the road.

There was this moment between the two of you that time almost seemed to freeze. The two of you, in an otherwise pretty empty residential street, at 9:30 at night, in a moment that you would never have again. From your point of view, you saw the slightly bloodshot and bleary eyes, widened with panic and fear. For Tom he saw the floods of tears down your cheeks, which you hadn’t even noticed were freely streaming.

But in that moment there was, at least, the slightest bit of peace. The slightest bit of hope - that he could explain, that he had some ludicrous but valid reason for the situation you had walked in on. Just a smidgen of hope that this were recoverable.

But then he had to open his bloody mouth.

“Y/n I swear nothing-“

“That didn’t look like fucking nothing!”

“It was I swear! We just-“

“Tom this is your one and only chance. I don’t care if your off your face, if you don’t give my a miracle of a reason as to what the fuck THAT was - then I’m gone.”

“Don’t say that Y/n, you don’t mean th-“ He tried to grab your hand which you snatched away, like you had just scalded it on a hot plate. Like he had hurt you.

“I swear to god I’ve never meant anything more. So cut the shit.”

“FIne-fine! Um so we were at the meeting and then on the way out I bumped into George and hes been a good mate of mine for years.” All you did was hum, arms crossed and making sure you had a metre of distance between the two of you.

“So he said god you look like you need a drink and I agreed because its been stressful as hell recently.”

“Oh its been stressful; for YOU has it? I’m so sorry Thomas, has it been hard for you while i’ve been throwing my lungs up with morning sickness? Has it been stressful that I’ve been running on zero hours sleep because she kicks me all bloody night? ” Your words were laced in a posioned sarcasm, to which Tom just stammered to.

“Please just let me.” Given he was supposed to be fighting for you, he sounded pretty darn defeated already.

“I said yes to the drink.” He skipped out the bit that had angered you, to which you rolled your eyes at. “And one turned into two and more and then I don’t know-“

“Your going to have to try a lot harder than that.” You deadpanned, taking a small step further back still.

“I mean it! The girls were all his friends and we were just talking.”

“Just talking? All pressed up and arms round her?”

“Yes!” As indignant as he retorted, it didn’t not make up for what you had seen with your own eyes.

“Your such a bullshitter Tom!”

“God why wont you just listen to me?” He cried, wobbly doing a little 360 on the spot, in what appeared to be exasperation.

“Because your just spouting fucking lies! And you try and blame it all on poor little tommo being stressed which is-“

“I HAVE BEEN! Running round after you! I’m just tired of this shit!!! So kill me, for having one night of freedom!”

Tom was too deep in his angry lecture to take any notice of you. Which is why, once finished, he waitied, breath heavy and nose flaring. He was waiting for you to scream back at him. To give it back. He was too drunk to notice the change in your demeanor.

“I’m tired of this shit.”

It was just reverberating round your head. Again and again and again. He was tired of your relationship and you hadn’t even become parents yet. He was at his wits-end and the baby was still unborn. What the fuck was going to happen when baby arrived? Clearly there was no hope. It was dead. Your relationship was dead with no chance of revival.

Because he’d said it. Your relationship was shit, and nobody can put up with something they hate for that long. Not 18 years. Not while bringing up a child.

So with a new sense of dread and fear and complete and total isolation you uttered three single words before hysterically running away.

“Don’t follow me.”

Not now, not ever.

?to be continued?

~~~~~~~~~~gahhhh I hope u enjoyed! I also REALLY CANNOT THINK OF A NAME FOR THIS MINISERIES --> if anyone can think of something pls inbox me!!! ~~~~~~~~

tom taglist: @lovehollandy12 @hollandlover19 @thefernandasantana @hunnybunimdun @hallecarey1@cedricdiggorysimpp @msmimimerton @hollandfanficlove @pandaxnienke @crossyourpeter @thegirlwiththeimpala @tom-softie @sunwardsss @spiitfiiires @radcloudenthusiast @ladykxxx08 @prancerrparkerr @wildxwidow @Elishi03 @arctic-monkcys @Ownbauer13 @tomhollandlol

#tom x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland angst #tom holland one shot #tomholland #tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland oneshot #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland angst #angsty #pregnant!reader

621 notes · View notes

bontenten · 3 years ago

Text

Bewitch

Pairings: Osamu x F!Reader x Atsumu; Miyacest WC: 7.4k Genre/Warnings: smut, fairytale retelling (Hansel and Gretel), magic au, dubcon/noncon, incest (miyacest), fear, knife, monster, bondage, snuff, vore, gore/blood, object insertion, body horror, a bit of size, tummy bulge, oral (m.receiving), anal (m. receiving), masturbation (f. & m.), voyeurism, arson...

Summary: The unexpected guests at your cottage have a mysterious past and hidden agenda. Will they allow you to accompany them on their journey?

Travelers are advised not to spend the night in the Dark Woods. It's said that beyond the last hiking trail, past a brook, lives an Evil Witch. That witch is vile and merciless; often, fools lost in the woods are never seen again. It's said that she must be over 800 years old, feeding off of the essences of children and young men unfortunate enough to cross her paths. It’s said that she even eats fellow witches. No one really knows. After all, no one who has seen her has lived to tell the tale.

It's been a few months since your teacher has left you to fend for yourself here in the woods—your first time alone during this apprenticeship. She said she had to attend a big conference with a whole bunch of other grand witches. You asked if you could tag along, but she insisted that you stay and watch the cottage. The lack of company is about to drive you insane so you often resort to conversing with yourself or the forest itself.

The soft moss muffles the sound of your footsteps as you begin the trek back home, a faint off-trail path away from the main road that no one else would usually notice. On any other day, you would just go home without a fuss, but loneliness makes people do some bizarre and odd things. For instance, the desperate longing for companionship leads to you dropping a not-so-hidden trail of fancy pebbles to inadvertently lead someone to your abode.

For most travelers, going off-trail is akin to a death sentence as any wrong turn might lure them into the forest's deadly maze. Not for you though, you know this place very well: every fallen tree, overturned log, the wanted signs nailed to the trunk...

Wait. A wanted sign?

You can make out from your distance that there are two heads on it, but the details are fuzzy, and the bounty looks smudged. Before you can get a closer look, you hear the birds caw in the trees, signaling the beginning of sunset. You pull your attention away from the poster and continue on to your way home.

The cottage is extremely cozy and warm. The windows are bejeweled and the door is solid wood. You live here comfortably with your teacher, after all, learning about the principles of magic and what it means to be a witch. It's much more than curses and spells, as your teacher would tell you, witches have character and a moral compass. Although there are certainly those who decide to experiment with the darker arts.

While you get a fire going in the huge furnace and boil some water on the stovetop, you hear two voices squabbling outside followed by three raps on the door. You're stunned by the noise, turning to face the shut door wondering if you were just dreaming about the noise. Is it? Visitors? No, you must have heard wrong.

"'Samu, I bet it's a farce, let's not." The voice sounds both tired and weary, almost out of breath.

"Let me just try again, I can smell a working kitchen in there, someone is definitely there," another voice insists. Three more knocking sounds. "Excuse me! Is the owner of the house available? My brother and I followed a path of colored stone and came upon your establishment...could you spare us some water? A bite of food?"

Two men, though they sound friendly. You're frozen in the kitchen, staring at the door that remains between you and the strangers.

"Is there someone home?" The second voice tries again. "Please, my brother is not feeling very well."

Your initial wariness for the stranger melts when you hear about the brother, which does not sound like a lie based on the raspy voice you first hear. A witch's character is fundamentally kind to all sentient beings, especially those in need. But you're still nervous, so you end up grabbing a metal ladle before carefully going to open the door. When you crack the door open, you see a pair of twins. Beautiful men, one blonde and one grey-haired. The former, with a quirky grin, although his eyes certainly look lackluster. But the other seems like he's at the right place, eyes peering past you into your home, fixated on your kitchen.

"I'm Osamu. And this," he gestures to his twin, "is my brother Atsumu. We're a bit lost, you see."

You nod your head in a casual greeting and introduce yourself as the resident apprentice at this cottage. As a good host should, you open the door to the weary guests preparing to welcome them in.

"Are we welcomed in?" Osamu asks, not moving from his spot. Atsumu isn’t budging either, arms crossed and only looking at you from the corner of his eye, waiting for your answer.

Without giving much thought you nod and open the door wider. "Both of you are most welcomed in."

"Then we thank you for your hospitality," Osamu says, taking a step inside, dragging his twin with him.

Words, especially spoken words carry power and hold intent. And a witch's words, no matter how careless they slip out, contain magic. Welcome, as you say. So welcome, they are.

You shut the door behind them and prepare to go give your first-ever guests some water. When you turn around, you notice Osamu already in the kitchen, the sleeves of his tunic rolled up past his elbows.

"Your food is about to burn. Heat's too high," he tells you, expertly taking control of the sizzling pots and pans. "I got it, don't worry."

Feeling flustered at the faint smell of scorching food, you hurry over to see if you can be of any assistance. "Let me help out."

"No, it's quite alright."

How can a host let her guests do all the work like that? And the first company in a while too! What an utter failure.

"How—" you try to argue back, but you're cut off by Atsumu tugging on your wrist, dragging you over to the sofa in the corner.

"Don't worry about him, he loves to cook." Atsumu brushes out the wisps of his bangs with a huff. "And actually quite good at it. Anything that goes through his hands...well, in short, all become part of his design."

Like his twin, Atsumu's frame is broad and huge, but there is a quality of emptiness of sorts. Osamu's shoulders are wide but there's more substance to it, whereas Atsumu's form seems contained. You can't help but use your learnings to see if you can figure out just what's off about Atsumu. He's slowly walking around the living room and studying the portraits hanging on the wall. He picks up a frame that is set above the fireplace and comments, "None of these are you. How come?"

"Oh, they're my teacher. I'm just a witch-in-training at the moment, so—"

"A witch?" Atsumu questions, clenching the frame tightly. His hands begin to shake, the glass under his thumb beginning to crack.

You did not expect Atsumu to display such a visceral reaction upon the mention of witches. After all, witches normally stayed far away from ordinary human society and when they do mix, it's often a role of healing. But the look that sparks in Atsumu's eyes, it's almost—feral.

"'Tsumu!" Osamu yells while stalking over quickly from the kitchen. He throws his arm around Atsumu's neck and drags him off into the shadows. You can't make out the muffled voices and deep growling noises that are coming from down the hall.

It's their private matter, so you go back to the kitchen. True enough, Osamu's hands are almost like magic. The bubbling pot of broth doesn't seem to be on the verge of overflowing, the onions caramelizing beautifully, filling the air with deliciousness.

Moments later, the twins come back. You notice that Osamu clothes are wrinkled from tugging Atsumu around, but at the very least, Atsumu is looking much better than before.

The three of you set the table for dinner. Osamu brings out the plates as though he knows the kitchen inside and out already. Atsumu comes emerging from the cellar with two bottles of fine wine that you didn't even know your teacher had stowed away. Surely, she wouldn't mind? With Osamu and Atsumu sitting to the left and right of you at the round table, it almost feels like a more familiar, cozier gathering between friends than a situation of a host and her guests.

They tell you that they have been traveling across the lands for a long time now, looking for a cure for Atsumu's illness. It reminds you of the hollow, repressed form you saw earlier and your curiosity gets the better of you. They don't tell you the nature of the malady, but what they do share is that they are looking for a witch to undo the curse on Atsumu, a result of dark witchcraft.

"I am a witch!" you exclaim, feeling your call to action at the moment. "Please, is there truly nothing for me to help to undo the spell?"

Osamu leans in close to you, and wipes a bit of sauce staining the corner of your lips with the pad of his thumb. He smiles. "We're looking for a very high-level witch. One day, maybe you'll get to the level of magic needed."

"You're too weak," Atsumu bluntly points out. You're sure Osamu means to say the same thing, but Atsumu's words are really sharp.

"I know," you sigh. "My teacher tells me that all the time. So, I'm really trying. I'm sure there's at least something I can do."

"I definitely think that. Don't be so hard on yourself," Osamu comforts. "Have you been living alone here for a long time?"

You feel two pairs of eyes glued onto you waiting for your answer. You smile reflexively before your eyes trail to the empty plate and carefully choose your words. "Yea. Just me and my teacher. She's a grand witch...maybe if you wait here for a few days, you can meet her when she comes back from her conference."

"We—"

"We'll be gone tomorrow!" Atsumu snaps, staring into Osamu's eyes.

Osamu doesn't pay any mind to Atsumu, and puts an extra piece of dessert onto your plate.

"We have a long way to go. Atsumu's condition isn't getting better, so we can't stop in one place for long."

It makes you a little sad, because you were hoping to spend some more time with the twins, both of whom you have grown fond of. Osamu and his gentleness. And even Atsumu, despite his quick remarks and outbursts, adds a particular spice to your mundane life.

"Maybe we'll bring you with us," Osamu comments lightly, "'Tsumu, wouldn't that be nice?"

"She'll just be dead weight," Atsumu retorts. You wonder if he absolutely hates you. Is that why he is always so against you being next to Osamu?

Osamu puts an arm around you and blows on the shell of your ear. It tickles and you can feel his body enveloping you. "But she's so sweet," he tells Atsumu and whispers into your ear, "Aren't you?"

You find your wandering gaze looking into his half-lidded grey eyes. His face is right next to you, lips just hovering barely five centimeters away. The overwhelming presence of him is undeniably alluring. Your breaths become shallow as your heart rate speeds up with desire.

"I'm exhausted! 'Samu you too. We're going to bed!" Atsumu drops the silverware onto his plate and stands up. He comes around the table, muttering curses under his breath. Atsumu grabs Osamu by the wrist and drags him off towards the guest bedroom you have shown them before.

You didn't quite catch Atsumu's angry mutters, but you hear "slut" and "harlot" thrown around a few times. Were they directed at you? No, you're not like that, you tell yourself. Atsumu must have been thinking that you are trying to seduce his twin. After you clear out the table, you decide to clear up any misunderstanding.

You tip-toe down the hall to the guest bedroom prepared to knock when you hear muffled sounds coming from inside. You carefully press your ears to the crevice of the door and clamp a hand around your mouth upon hearing the stream of moans.

"'Samu, 'Samu please, ah—"

That's Atsumu? Your eyes are wide and still trying to process the shock of what you're hearing. You tell yourself you shouldn't be here. You should not be listening to whatever is happening behind the closed door, but you can't help it. Hearing Atsumu's moans makes you want to squirm.

You slightly jump when you hear a slap, followed with a pleasured groan. The sound is so clean it feels as though the phantom hands are touching your own heated skin.

Osamu's chuckle nearly makes your knees weak.

"Don't get cocky, if it were any other day ngh—, any other day, I would be the one pushing you into the mattress."

Slap. "Shut up, cute 'Tsumu. I like you being so needy for me like this. What do you want from me? Tell me."

"Fuck me, 'Samu."

"With pleasure."

The wood creaks loudly and you tell yourself, you really need to get out as you back away and try to quickly walk down the hall back to your bedroom.

You throw the door open and lock the door behind you with a click. With your eyes closed, you try to steady your breath and the building heat in your core. It's quiet. There's no noise coming from their room. But they are twins!

You remind yourself that a witch is all-accepting and kind. There are so many circumstances beyond your understanding, judgement is not a part of your nature. And if what they are performing is wrong, what should you say about yourself? You peel off your clothes and step out of the soaked panty that is proof of your lust.

Pillows are fluffed and covers are pulled over your body. You try to sleep, but each time you are about to drift, Atsumu's cries of pleasure come back into your head. Your hand trails down your navel until the fingertips trace over your clit. Gathering some slick from your cunt, you drag it across the sensitive bud.

You shudder from the touch as images, constructed in your fantasy, cloud your mind. You imagine Atsumu's hands spreading your legs apart and Osamu's teasing words next to your ear. He would tell you to open wide and shove his cock down your throat. You suck on three of your fingers until lips wrap over the knuckles, your saliva pooling from hunger. And slip your fingers into your cunt easily, curling them against the plush walls.

"F-fuck me," you moan into your pillow.

With pleasure.

You quiver, clit pulsating, and your pussy juice dripping into your palm. The wash from the high soon takes you into sleep. All throughout the night, you squirm and feel the phantom sensation of being watched. Not just observed, but studied, by two pairs of glinting hungry eyes. You can almost imagine them on either side of the bed, trapping you into the mattress no matter which way you turn.

A few times the weird feelings almost pull you awake, but you don't dare crack an eye open to confirm your suspicions until the morning light begins to filter through the windows, rousing you from sleep. The air is filled with fragrant herbs and the sizzle of delicious brunch from someone awake before you.

No doubt, it's Osamu, because who else can it be? Atsumu? Please. The twins....

You climb out of bed and stretch your neck on the way to the washroom. Your bedroom door is open, but it's too early to notice that detail.

"Morning!" Osamu greets you from the kitchen. You find a fresh mug of coffee shoved into your hands from him.

You mumble thanks and sip at the brew while watching Osamu fry the eggs. Osamu looks to be deep in thought, probably thinking about something pleasant from the faint smile ghosting on his face. You feel a pang of guilt from both listening to their private lives, and also the strange feelings that maybe they heard your private life too—it's all your paranoia talking.

"You're so talented," you blurt out, fisting the fabric of your long skirt.

"Thanks, but better not let 'Tsumu hear ya, he gets jealous super easily."

Even if Atsumu hears, it's fine. You really mean both of them. Both of the twins both seem super talented as a duo; like they've been out there and seen the world. Meanwhile, you're still stuck here, without company. Would it be possible...if they simply stayed?

Osamu senses the words that are stuck in your mouth and answers them for you. "We're gonna be leaving right after breakfast. There's still lots of ground to cover today," he explains, plating the pancake before preparing to ladle a spoonful of batter for the next one.

"Do you have to leave?" you ask, almost pleading.

"It's cozy here and comfortable. We enjoy your company too, but we have to go. Your teacher would hate us, immensely, and on top of that...let's just say, we're always on the run."

"You say it like you two are fugitives or something."

Osamu chuckles and leans closer to you, hot breath flaming your cheeks, or maybe it's just the heat from the stove. A teasing grin pulls his cheeks up slightly as your eyes flicker over to see his lips spell out, "Maybe. Scared?"

Embarrassed, you take a defensive step back, squeaking and bumping into another body.

"MORNING!" Atsumu announces behind you. He's in good spirits and he has his hands on your waist to steady you; he sniffs your hair and smiles before letting you go. "I smell something delicious."

"Breakfast is ready," Osamu says, plating the pancakes. "Hungry 'Tsumu?"

"Tch." Atsumu shoves past you and knees Osamu, mood doing a complete 180. You're almost left like a fly on the wall as you watch the scene unfold.

Osamu is quick to catch his balance while keeping watch on the stove. "Not awake yet?" Osamu grins and passes him a plate of pancakes, essentially telling him to shut up and eat. "Who shoved a stick up your ass? Go eat."

"Fuck you."

"Hm."

Atsumu grumbles but digs into his food anyway. Osamu catches your amused expression in the corner and explains, "It's always like that between us. It's our...way of showing how much we care."

"I know." It's sort of endearing, the banter between the two brothers. Even if the world turns against them, no matter what the odds are, at least Miya Osamu will have Miya Atsumu, and Atsumu will have Osamu. Perhaps it's exactly that sort of bond the two share that you're envious of. Body and soul. Because if only you could have just an ounce of that sort of familiarity with another. But you're just an outsider without an invitation to join in.

While you're mulling over your thoughts, you don't catch the darkening gazes being exchanged between the twins. At some point, Atsmu's plate is already emptied and the wooden table is cleared while you're still lost in your mind. Osamu is fiddling with the metal tea strainer, bobbing it up and down to brew a mug of tea. He threads a cotton string in and out like it's a plaything.

"Do you really want to be with us?" Osamu asks nonchalantly. "'Tsumu and I were talking about it. If you do, maybe we can work something out."

"I just..." You feel like this is your final chance to tell them that you don't want them to go. None of the going around circle hinting that you have been doing. This is the moment to just tell it to them. If you miss this chance, you feel like you won't have another. And even though a pit pulls at your inwards telling you to reconsider, you're brave. "I just want to be together with you all, and help you cure Atsumu. My teacher is so talented, I'm sure she'll have a remedy."

They grin.

Osamu is a great cook, he can do that. Atsumu sometimes seems lazy, but he's super strong and quick to help too. And you can pick up all sorts of other tasks in the area! Maybe because they're so helpful, your teacher will even let them stay once Atsumu is cured. Maybe they can learn magic too! You have heard of warlocks who are powerful with spells too. And you can already imagine, the three of you, like a team, eventually going out into the world to fight demons and monsters and—

"Open wide," a sultry voice sounds next to you. Backing away automatically, you find Atsumu standing right behind you.

"W-wait," your voice shakes, stuck in your throat. "What are—"

His fingers reach for your mouth, prying it open. Before you can voice your distaste, a warm, metal ball gets shoved into your mouth, the thin chain quickly tangles into your hair. The faint traces of tea seep out of its small holes down your tongue and throat, while some spill out the corner of your mouth like trails of drool down your jawline.

Osamu smiles and wipes the liquid away with his thumb, relishing in how your widening eyes gape at him in confusion.

"Being together," he answers the question you wanted to ask, "is what you want isn't it?" He takes a spool of kitchen twine and begins to secure the tea strainer in your mouth. The thin cotton threads wrap around your head over and over again, tightening the steel against your tongue.

You shake your head and try to take another step away from the man you're beginning to become wary of, but the strong grip of Atsumu's hands on your shoulder prevents you from squirming at all. His fingers dig into your flesh, and when you turn to look at him you catch a glint in his eyes, glowering down at you.

"No, no, no, behave," he taunts you, "listen to 'Samu. He'll make you feel real good, trust me."

With the gag in your mouth, all you can let out are weak, warbling gargles from the back of your throat. Why are you doing this? You weren't like this before? Loud snorts flare out your nostrils from the fear screaming through your body.

Osamu comes back with a paring knife, examining the edge under the sunlight filtering in through the stained glass. He presses the cool blade along your cheek, dragging with the dull edge just enough so the sharp end doesn't cut your skin. You feel your knees growing weak and if not for Atsumu's hold on you, you would sink into a shuddering heap on the floor.

"You know, I think you might be the best meal yet," Osamu compliments, blade trailing down to your collarbone. The tip of the knife toys with the first button, pressing tension on the x-cross stitching. Snap. The first button pops off, dropping onto the wooden floor and rolling away to an inconspicuous corner. "I'll prep you well."

Snap. Snap. Snap. Snap. The knife flicks again and all the buttons clatter on the floor before running away for refuge.

Atsumu has cleared the table already and you find yourself hoisted up and laid onto the surface like a slab of meat on a cutting board. The cold surface presses against the back of your shoulder and ass. Osamu ties your wrist together with a hemp rope and secures the other end around the table leg. He also secures your ankles to two other anchor points.

You're utterly exposed and ashamed at your body's display, mortified at how your body is reacting when you catch sight of Atsumu, his eyes dilated, looking at your slit that you know is drenched already. The rough texture of the rope presses painfully into your skin from how tight the bindings are. You can only let out gagged whines in complaint, chest rising up and down from the loud breaths.

"Can't do, love," Osamu chides, kissing the knot at your wrist, satisfied with the results. His fingertips trail down to cup your jaw and his thumb runs across the tea strainer. You close your eyes and groan at his touch. Osamu murmurs, "I won't let anything go to waste."

Atsumu is growing impatient at the sight of his twin treating you like the finest specimen ever. You're not the first one. You won't be the last one, but he still can't stand the sight of someone looking just like himself having first tastes while he's missing out himself. He wants to shove Osamu aside, but he knows that Osamu absolutely hates it when he ravages the meal when it's not ready.

Atsumu unzips his pants and lets his hardened, leaking cock spring free. You stare at Atsumu who is fixated on his own pleasure. His hand wraps around his cock and pumps the length up and down.

Osamu turns your head to look at himself instead. "Someone there is impatient, but let's not learn from him, okay? I want to take you slow, make sure you'll be ready. I don't want you stressed, you release too much cortisol and that toughens the meat."

Anything that goes through his hands...well, in short, all become part of his design.

His hand kneads your breast and toys with your nipple, circling and tugging on the tiny, erect bud.

"Relax," he whispers into your ear. "Just like you did last night."

You try to clamp your thighs shut from reflex. Immediately the resistance from the rope ties stop your movements. Osamu squeezes your thighs and pushes them apart once more.

"Right here isn't it, after hearing me fuck 'Tsumu..." Osamu's finger runs down the sides of your labia. "You just couldn't help touching yourself too huh?"

He knows. They know. You feel your cheeks burn at the realization.

"There's nothing embarrassing about it. If anyone should be, it should be us twins, " Osamu's fingers easily slip in, your pussy already dripping with arousal. "Oh woops, I shouldn't need to comfort you. You're clearly not shy."

Osamu's fingers are thick and long, able to reach far deeper than you ever can. Your tongue is still struggling against the gag while your saliva steeps the tea leaves trapped in the ball.

"Oi," Atsumu cuts in with annoyance. "I thought you said to not play with food. What the fuck are you doing, chef?"

Osamu stops his finger in you for a moment before dragging them out. You're trembling at the sudden emptiness and desire to fill the space immediately. The lack of stimulation is irritating and you are desperate.

Osamu walks up to Atsumu, bringing his drenched fingers covered in your slick to his lips for a taste. Before he can do so, Atsumu grabs Osamu's wrist and takes in those digits, sucking on them gingerly.

Osamu smiles and runs the other hand through Atsumu's hair.

"Patience is a virtue, 'Tsumu, I was just getting her fully prepared for you. I'm giving her all to you already, you couldn't even let me have a taste of her?"

Atsumu releases Osamu's fingers with a pop. "I never said I wasn't going to share," he mutters before pulling Osamu in for a kiss, passing the taste of you along their tongues.

Your body jostles as you finally get a visual matching what you heard last night. You feel your pussy leaking with more excitement, the arousal drips all the way down to your asshole. And the more you squirm, it's as though the rope ties become tighter and tighter, rubbing your skin raw. But even that pain is incomparable to the need to quell your fire.

Atsumu pulls away and presses one last kiss on Osamu's nose. "I always love what you serve, thank you 'Samu." Your heart rate rapidly speeds up as Atsumu comes towards you. He's positioned between your legs, both hands on your thighs, marveling at the display of your body. His hands feel hot.

Atsumu grins. "You probably didn't expect me to be the one taking you, huh?" He guides his cock to your entrance, the bulging tip prodding along your puffy lips. "Did you want Osamu to be the one fucking you?"

No? You want to argue, straining your head up slightly, but only tea-laced saliva drips out from the corners of your mouth.

"'Fuck me, 'Samu. Fuck me, please.' Is that what you heard? Is that what you wanted to say too?"

Your screams are muffled whimpers.

Osamu snorts off to the side, watching Atsumu do exactly what he accused Osamu earlier of: playing with his food. Hypocrite.

Atsumu glares at Osamu before turning his attention back to you. "You'll be begging for me, Atsumu, after I'm done with you."

He lines himself at your entrance and inches himself in, groaning at how your cunt is somehow just sucking him in. You're so warm and tight inside, wrapping perfectly around every part of him. He sits in you for a moment, just enjoying being blanketed by your muscles and chuckling how you tighten around him every now and then.

You whine, urging Atsumu to move a little.

"Okay, okay. Geez, and 'Samu says I'm impatient." Atsumu slowly draws his cock out and snaps his hips forward, the base of his balls slapping against your ass. He delights at how you squeeze your eyes shut and continues rocking into you at a comfortable pace.

Osamu enjoys standing off to the side for a while. He always liked watching Atsumu savor and delight the food he prepares. Atsumu always eats with such gusto. It should have always been that way, until the witch ruined everything. The curse, an experiment with the dark arts, should have never happened. Above all else, it should never have been on Atsumu. Osamu can only wonder if the reason they are subjected to this fate is because they are twins. Until a cure is found, Atsumu, his most beloved other, will have to replenish himself in this way.

A sharp pain rips through you and tears well up in your eyes. You feel Atsumu's cock suddenly begin to pulsate and grow in size. At first, you thought it was because you're clamping down on him too hard and will yourself to relax. But the cock, the thing, is certainly unnatural now. And between your tear-stained vision, you can just barely make out... Monster.

You begin to thrash wildly, head tossing side to side, back arched as much as you can in a futile escape attempt. Atsumu's claws rest on your hips while he pounds into you furiously. His groans, now deep growls, send vibrations that you can feel within your throbbing clit. You fear that you'll actually be ripped in half by the way Atsumu is thrusting into you. The engorged cockhead hits your cervix each time and his ball sack, even heavier, bowls and knocks against you.

Osamu unfolds his arms and comes over.

"It'll only hurt if you don't relax," he tells you, reaching out to press on your clit. "Just let him have his way."

"Go fuck her somewhere else," Atsumu snarls. His voice is warped and bellowing. Your mind is getting foggy as Osamu's fingers on your clit don't stop teasing the bud while having a petty talk with Atsumu. And Atsumu, ticked off by Osamu, picks up his speed.

"There we go, now that's beautiful," Osamu comments, taking his hand away and watching you unfurl in your pleasure. Your abused cunt is puffy when Atsumu pulls out, and you feel the thick liquid start to flow out when you take breaths.

"No, don't do that," Osamu chides, taking three fingers to gather the cum spilling out and stuffing it back in. "Better keep it all in. 'Tsumu isn't done with you yet."

Not yet? You can't even voice your thoughts except weakly shaking your head and moaning into the steel gag. In the moment, your stomach rumbles loudly.

"'Samu, she's hungry," Atsumu points out, rubbing your tummy. "You feed her and I'll stuff her."

Osamu ruffles Atsumu's long hair and gives his new, erected horns a teasing squeeze. Atsumu yelps at the touch. "'Samu!"

"Okay, okay," Osamu relents and stands next to your head. You see him take the paring knife again and slide the icy blade between the cotton ties and your hot cheek. A quick slice and you feel the pressure of the gag release. Osamu removes the tea strainer from your mouth and tosses it into the sink.

"Must have been so over-brewed, I apologize for that," he says. You know he doesn't mean it at all.

"Why?" you croak out. Your jaw and cheeks are sore from being held in position for so long. There's so many things you believe you can ask why about. Why they are prepping you like a meal, fucking you like a toy...Why Atsumu is the way he is. Why Osamu is not who you think he is either. Why you.

Despite Atsumu's grotesque figure, you're sure that you fear this twin more. Osamu's thoughts are so well-hidden behind his eyes; he never gives away what he's thinking or planning. You can only accept his decisions from the receiving end.

"Because of Atsumu," Osamu answers. Everything is for 'Tsumu. "I'll feed you."

Osamu cradles your head with both hands, his fingers tangled in your hair. He prods his cock against your lips. Feeling your resistance, he grips your hair tightly, painfully pulling on your scalp, and presses the tip of his cock to force your lips open. You nearly gag at the length entering your throat and your hands ball into tight fists. Your nose is buried in the base of his cock, pressing into his balls. Each breath you take is heavy with his musky, hot scent.

It's easy to focus on Osamu's cock fucking into your throat, leaving an unamused, monstrous twin off to the side preparing to turn your attention back to him by force.

Atsumu rubs himself against you, preparing to enter you again. You're sure that he has become even bigger. When the tip pushes through, your body attempts to fight the intrusion in self-preservation. The claws at your hips dig in and Atsumu all but pulls you onto his length like a sock. You scream around Osamu's cock, throat clenching around his thick length, and nearly black out from the stretch.

You never had anything this big in you before. Atsumu lifts you up slightly, his grasp becoming large enough to encircle around your whole waist. Your ankles are still tethered and tug on you, much to Atsumu's annoyance. He easily slices through the bondages with a sharp claw. Now free of restraints, Atsumu can cradle you more easily, finally pushing the last section into you.

Crack!

You can’t cry while you're stuffed with Osamu’s cock, but tears stream endlessly from your eyes. You’re sure your pelvic floor is broken, completely forced apart in a futile attempt to accommodate Atsumu stuffing you beyond your physical capacity. Your hips give out as your two legs, bone out from their sockets, dangle grotesquely.

“Just focus on me,” Osamu wipes your tears away and continues to pump into you. But you cannot focus on the human object in your mouth when your whole lower half and inwards are broken, stretched or squashed.

"Hey look ‘Samu! It's bulging," Atsumu marvels at the imprint of his tip pushing your flesh out from the inside. “Look, my cock is saying ‘hello’.”

Atsumu excitement translates into messy thrusts, treating your body like a game. “Maybe I can even touch your dick through her!”

Your whole body is numb, the brain shuts its pain signals off completely, and hormones pour through your bloodstream in overdrive. The broken climax spasms through your body like the last bits of a faltering system.

“Better hurry...she’s...she’s fading soon,” Osamu warns between his grunts. He clasps your head and spurts his seed into you. You mindlessly swallow every drop of him, letting the contents slowly flow down your throat. You can’t process anything nor recognize any of the murky images. Who are you? Where are you?

Your memory fades in and out as your eyesight drifts between black and white. You can’t do anything about how the monster is now on all fours over your body, unrecognizable as Atsumu. You don’t feel any fear towards this grotesque figure. You don’t register how his tongue licks your neck.

Your mouth is now empty but you can’t formulate syllables.

“I’m sorry,” you hear Osamu whisper before sharp fangs pierce into your jugular, digging in deeper and tearing a chunk out. Red sprays across your body in fast spurts, drenching Atsumu and covering Osamu. The teeth at your throat gnaw at the flesh, starved, tearing through the skin, fat, and tissues like a child crunching fruit.

You can feel the droplets falling onto your face like fresh rain after a storm. You vaguely remember your teacher and her warning of strangers. She always reprimanded you and you wanted to make her proud. There will no longer be any chance of that now. You weren’t a good student, and only an utter failure.

Osamu waits for Atsumu to finish you off. Atsumu always gets messy at this point. Osamu tried to help Atsumu section his prey off by cutting and organizing the limbs and even attempted to debone the meal beforehand, but Atsumu has his preferences, and Osamu respects them. So, Osamu delegates cleaning duties to himself instead.

You’re already beyond recognition when Osamu comes back with barrels of oil. All that is left is a kitchen stained with blood and a pile of bone with chewed connective tissue left. Atsumu sometimes eats the bones too, but not always.

“‘Tsumu, are you full now?” Osamu asks, reaching out to cradle his twin. Atsumu has now transformed back to the way he is supposed to be. Osamu threads his hand through Atsumu’s blonde hair and inhales his twin’s scent.

Atsumu doesn’t respond and tugs at Osamu’s collar, trailing down his arm to bring Osamu’s hand to his own cock.

Osamu grins and kisses the top of Atsumu’s head. “Do you want to fuck me ‘Tsumu? I know you like to, after your meals.”

Atsumu whines and nips at Osamu’s jaw, pushing the twin down on the blood-stained floor.

“Okay, okay.” Osamu unzips and pulls down his pants before crawling onto all fours.

Atsumu’s hand cups Osamu’s ass and pries the cheeks open before curiously fingering at the specimen plugging Osamu’s hole. Atsumu holds onto the base and turns the object, before laughing.

“‘Samu, what is this you have in your ass,” Atsumu teases. “I like this presentation.”

This time, Osamu is the one embarrassed. “Last meal, it hurt like hell. So...I wanted to prepare a little.”

“With an egg holder?” Atsumu cackles again, fiddling with the ceramic object. “Should’ve just told me ‘Samu, I could never bear to hurt you.”

Atsumu holds onto the base and slowly pulls the object out before tossing it aside. He smiles and teases Osamu’s enlarged hole that’s opening and closing around nothing. Gathering up some saliva, he spits onto Osamu’s asshole before lining his cock at the rim and slowly pushing in.

Along with the curse comes a near insatiable lust. Atsumu knows that if he doesn’t fulfill his need to fuck or be fucked, he will snap. He doesn’t really care who he kills during a frenzy of that sort, but it’s too risky to get Osamu caught up in the collateral.

The witch that wanted to create the perfect weapon, failed. She failed because she underestimated the twins’ bonds for each other. She failed because the twins discovered that witches excrete a very special hormone in their body after climax, and it is exactly that substance that is slowly curing Atsumu. With every witch eaten and absorbed, Atsumu is healing and gaining magical powers. He is even capable of passing those essences to Osamu. One day, everything will be the way it's supposed to be.

Osamu plays with a few strands of Atsumu’s hair. Atsumu’s softened cock still buried inside of him. Atsumu has his jaw resting on Osamu’s shoulder.

“You make me feel so good,” Atsumu sighs, enjoying the quiet moments after his high.

“And what about her?” Osamu asks, gesturing to the table where your remains are still at.

“She made me feel good too. The best one yet, but don’t be jealous.”

“Come on, let’s clean up and get out of here.”

After washing their bodies and changing into clean clothes, Atsumu and Osamu are ready to say goodbye to the cottage they have overstayed their welcomes at.

"Let's go 'Samu, we're already behind." Atsumu finishes dumping the last bucket of oil along the edges of the room.

The clamor of boots stride across the creaking wood. As though with the passing of its owner, the cottage itself has lost the will to live.

"Coming," Osamu calls back, walking past the makeshift funeral pyre for you. He notices a flash on the ground and bends down to pick up a button.

"'Samu! Get the fuck out or I'll burn ya down too!"

"Yea, yea."

Osamu drops the button into his shirt pocket and joins his twin outside. Atsumu strikes a matchstick and tosses the small flame into the cottage. Fire meets oil and spreads in an instance, engulfing the cottage in an angry blend of orange and red, devouring all contents and remains within. The smell of scorched wood reaches the twins who are looking at the sight from a distance.

"She was good," Atsumu comments, looking at his twin unsure about what Osamu's grey eyes are thinking about. Atsumu realizes that he didn't specify what good exactly means. But it doesn't seem like Osamu is paying much attention. Is Osamu thinking about you? Is he unhappy? Does he regret what happened to you? Although what's done is done already, if time can go back, would Osamu choose? You or Atsumu?

Osamu slips his hand into Atsumu's, erasing the unspoken worries away. He gently leads Atsumu onto the trail, leaving the burning cottage behind.

"Stop thinking such nonsense," Osamu mutters, squeezing Atsumu's hand. No matter what happens, Atsumu will always come first. His needs, his desires. That's what it means for Osamu to love Atsumu. Even though the rest of the world may not understand the relationship the twins share, calling it depraved and disgusting, it's still selfless on their part. What sin is there to honestly love? What sin is there to try and save his loved ones?

While Osamu admits to himself that he does feel a deep attraction to you and knows that Atsumu feels the same pull as well, there's nothing that can be done about Atsumu's condition. But it's not as though you are completely gone. Your essences and core are within both twins, being absorbed as one with their bodies and soul. You'll forever be with them in that way, even if you no longer have any sentient memory of it.

Osamu fiddles the button in his pocket; there's still a physical reminder of you in that tiny form.

It must be about a twenty-minute trek from the burning site. Although the flames are already far from eyesight, the scorching smell and embers still drift over. The twins pick up their pace, eager to exit the forest before nightfall and make it to the next destination. On the way, they pass by the tree trunk with a wanted poster.

"They never get my best angles!" Atsumu complains, ripping a wanted poster that is nailed to the tree trunk.

"It's not like you have a good angle, ‘Tsumu."

"Shut it, we look the same ‘Samu. You're just calling yourself ugly too!"

Osamu shrugs and continues his trek down the main trail. Atsumu huffs, tearing the parchment into indistinguishable pieces before throwing the shreds up into the air like confetti.

"Wait up!"

Osamu stops in his tracks. "Hurry up, loser. We still have a long way to go."

Atsumu takes a few wide strides and swings his arm around his twin's shoulder. Behind them, a very light drizzle falls from the sky.

536 notes · View notes

burnedbyshoto · 3 years ago

Text

for want of a bento box

– It’s plain and simple, you see, someone is stealing your bento boxes and you will find your lunch thief! Or, in which Todoroki Shouto keeps taking your bento box and you declare war.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

pairing: todoroki shouto x reader

warnings: fluff, cursing, shouto is a bad chef, I believe I made reader pretty gender neutral but I whipped this out in two hours and I can no longer remember if I used any fem!pronouns but im pretty sure I didn’t

word count: 3,060

a/n: this is for the wonder coworker bnharem collab! I had intended on writing a completely different theme and storyline but was very overwhelmed by how much time it actually needed to be written compared to the amount of time I actually had. that version will be out another time! but for now, enjoy some pure flufffffff!!!!

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

Having a normal, functioning, well-paying job was probably the most desirable thing to you. It wasn’t to say that you were slacking or that you were homeless, broke, and never to be seen again because you were that in debt. But it was nice having a job!

When you entered the prestigious Toshinori Company, you joined not as an entry-level job employee but as a senior representative. You thought it was crazy.

It had to be crazy.

You had no prior experience, and now you were going to be in charge and the lead in certain areas?!

“And that was the entire layout of the office!” Mina chirped happily, throwing herself onto the desk chair across from yours with a big smile. “Any questions?”

“I don’t think so,” you mutter, brows creased as you look around the room again.

The office space was ample, sleek, open. Each desk has its own grand computer that you currently could not afford with your own money, comfortable chairs, and beautiful wood desks. It was elegant, far superiorly fancy, and yet, you didn’t feel out of place. Strange.

“Oh!” you say with a roll of your eyes as you reach below your desk to bring up your packed lunch. “Where was the break room again? I need to refrigerate my food!”

“Omg, of course, come this way!” Mina grins, standing up and motioning you to follow her. You smile gratefully and do.

The entire way to the office, Mina takes the time to point at the many different people on the floor and give them names. Everyone so far had sort of acknowledged you earlier as Mina was giving you the official tour. Some were much more open and friendly, and some had sneers or blank stares that left you dumbstruck.

Definitely a personable group.

“Hm, well, I guess Todoroki-kun isn’t here today?” Mina mutters as you enter the break room that has couches and comfortable-looking chairs. “Such a shame! You would have loved to see the office hottie!”

You snort at that, lips curled into a granulous smile as you place your plastic container with food into the fridge. “I’m sure I’ll live,” you brush off the fact that there was an absent person on your floor today.

“That’s the thing, though,” Mina points a finger at you, a lone eyebrow raised and a confident smirk on her face. “You won’t be thinking that again the moment you see him!”

You laugh, eyes crinkling as Mina joins your laughter. Eventually, she motions for the both of you to leave, and you nod in understanding. And with a weird sense of comfort and belonging, you realized that this job was going to be good.

Eventually, you had been working at Toshinori Company for two months.

Sixty-two days to be precise, and in all that time, you had only met Todoroki Shouto once. Even then, you had only seen the man walking through the office with a blank face, fingers in his pockets as two other men were walking in front of him, bickering lightly.

Had Mina not quite literally thrown herself across the table and gripped the collar of your shirt and twisted your head to look at him, you would have never caught a glimpse at the man with red and white hair. The three of them walked into the break room and came back out with their own lunches before leaving.

And that was it.

You had learned that the three of them (Todoroki Shouto, Midoriya Izuku, and Bakugou Katsuki) were within your department but worked very closely with the very high up members within the company. Many rumors pointed at one of the three taking over the company when the current CEO stepped down. They were, however, on the roster for your floor; they just never appeared except to pick up their lunches. Something they seemed to come to grab whenever you were a) way too fucking busy or b) not in the room.

You weren’t too bothered, though.

It wasn’t like you were trying to date one of them! You had only wanted to say hi.

Now, at ninety days, you had your first and probably most crucial evaluation.

Toshinori Yagi, the man who founded and currently ran this company, sat before you, looking at papers within a folder with tired but kind blue eyes. He nodded, impressed (hopefully), making small comments about the work you had been able to accomplish, a smile becoming a warming grin as he looked up.

“I’m impressed by the performance you’ve managed to attend to despite the short while you’ve been here, y/l/n-shojo,” Toshinori spoke, his fingers threading together and placing them onto the table. “I knew it was an excellent decision to put you in that position, and you exceeded my entire expectation!”

You flushed at that, lips twitching as you attempted to suppress that smile of yours.

“Thank you, Toshinori-san,” you practically wheeze as he waves off your thanks.

“No need to thank me, you’ve done all this work!” he laughs, tired eyes closing with a glorious supply of crow's feet blooming at the corner of his eyes. “Typically, at these evaluations, I ask a bunch of questions because there isn’t too much anyone can do in their first ninety days, I must admit.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm, but because I am curious, is there anything that has been happening as of late that you feel needs to be addressed with me?”

You felt yourself stiffen but knew your one and only complaint was not something to bring up in this setting.

“No, nothing,” you shrug, and Toshinori beams.

“I’m glad!”

Now, the problem.

The big, fat, stinky, hooligan, wanting to throttle someone problem.

For the past sixty of your ninety days, someone has been stealing your lunch.

Yes, you heard that correctly; someone was stealing your damn lunch! Every morning you woke up and prepared a delicious bento box for yourself. Some days you went as far as cutting shapes into your fruits and veggies just to make yourself grin. You weren’t the best chef in the world, but your bento boxes were pretty enough to make up for it, in your opinion. But the thing is, every day when you went into the communal fridge, you noticed two things.

One, your bento box was no longer in the same place, and two, the bento box was not yours at all.

The food was disastrously organized. Rice and lettuce spilling out in every partition in the box. The fruit and veggies often packed in this box had multiple cuts in them, implying that whoever did this was less than ideal with a knife. The meat was often oversalted, the sushi never sitting together, and everything was just… not it.

The first time you had sighed and eaten it, grumbling about how your precious lunch was stolen. But you had quickly figured out that it was inedible, and Mina, Uraraka, and Yaoyorozu thank god, offered to share their meals.

Seeing that you were distressed about how someone stole your egg and octopus sausages one day, Mina declared that they would watch the break room for whoever was stealing your light blue bento box. The first day you staked out, you had done it with Mina. But ten minutes into waiting around, you needed to pee. So you stood up and left in a hurry, leaving Mina alone.

But when you returned, Mina was gone, instead standing by Kirishima’s desk with a bright grin and a stance that screamed that she heard something she liked (gossip, possible in-office romance, a love confession?). Her jaw dropped as she noticed you and Kirishima had turned and waved in your direction as you raced into the break room to open the fridge, and sure enough, your bento was gone.

The next time, you staked out with Uraraka. Your arms were folded, your bladder cleared, and your lips twisted into a pout as you glared and stared down every single member who entered the room. Uraraka whispered to you her guesses about just who might be the thief, every other person rating an 8/10 likelihood of stealing your lunch.

But as the both of you sat there, your eyes narrowed at each passerby, no one came to collect your bento today.

“Deku-kun, no packed lunch today?” Uraraka asked as the green, curly-haired man you had only met once previously raced into the break room, grabbing the extra chopsticks meticulously hidden in the third bottom draw.

“Ah, Uraraka-san, y/l/n-san! Uh, no,” Midoriya greeted you both, who apparently responds to the nickname Deku, laughs off as he grabs a handful of napkins. “Todoroki-kun left all our lunches in his car by accident, and well… they spoiled… Kacchan’s pissed, so I ran off to get lunch for us today!”

Uraraka laughed, shaking her head, “Leave it to Todoroki-kun to act that way.”

Midoriya laughed, bright and clearly in agreement, “You should have seen his face when Kacchan asked for his lunch! I swear–”

“HOW LONG DOES IT TAKE TO GRAB FUCKING CHOPSTICKS, SHIT-KU! I’M FUCKING STARVING!” a voice roared from nowhere near the entrance of the break room. You did, however, jump a bit, eyes turning toward the break room entrance to see the blond man (Bakugou? Kacchan? You had no idea which was correct) near the entrance of the floor.

“It’s only been a minute, Kacchan, relax!” Midoriya laughs, completely unaffected by the startling shout as he waves goodbye to both you and Uraraka before leaving, joining Bakugou as the both of them seem to talk comfortably… well, maybe more like bickering.

“Why are they–”

“Childhood friends, apparently,” Uraraka sighed, but the smile on her face betrays her exasperation.

No one stole your bento that day.

Yaoyorozu took up the third stake out, the two of you idly chatting about tea. You honestly had no idea what to talk about with Yaomomo; she was often just so elegant and mature despite being your age. When you learned that her family was in charge of the Yaoyorozu Corp, it had been strangely easy to accept that.

It made sense.

So as the two of you stood at the kitchen sink, boiling water for tea Yaomomo swore would be the best matchup for your packed nigiri, the both of you missed the man who walked into the room, opened the fridge, and took your lunch.

“I… I am so sorry,” Yaomomo apologized, head bowed dangerously low as the both of you looked at the sloppily cut salmon in your not actual bento. “Please eat my food in reparation.”

“No, it’s okay,” you sigh, chewing on the somehow still warm salmon. “I deserved this loss.”

Luck was just on this man's side, it seemed. No matter what you did, you could never catch the man in action, and you were ready to give up.

But this was the last attempt you said to yourself as you returned to your office floor, the evaluation done, and the rest of your life coming to light. You could do this. No! You WOULD do this!

“Why don’t you just put your name on your bento box?” Bakugou asked, a lone eyebrow raised in what you could only assume was judgment and pity. The explosive man was standing in the doorway of the breakroom, watching as you and Mina were trying to climb up the counters of the breakroom to grab the camera you had previously planted. “Obviously, it doesn’t have your name on it.”

“Um,” you squeak, having been obviously caught by someone who intimidated you just the slightest bit. “That’s a good idea, thank you, Bakugou-san.”

“Tch, whatever, just clean up the damn counters, fucking nasty standing up on there. Some people prepare their food there.”

“We would never forget to do that!” you argue, desperate to not leave a bad impression on this man.

“I don’t know much about you, but I know raccoon eyes over there would.”

“MY NAME IS MINA!”

“Like I care.”

He left without so much as a wave but did seem to nod with his departure. You sighed as you hopped off the counter, Mina grabbing the cleaning supplies as she cursed out the long-gone man under her breath.

But you were looking at the fridge with your missing bento box.

“I can’t believe I never put my name on it.”

“It’s okay! Not even Yaomomo thought of it, so I say we are still smart!”

It was the next day, you were at your desk, anxious as hell as you did your work, trying not to focus on the fact that it was lunchtime and you were actively avoiding the break room. You wondered if they wouldn’t come and collect it today. If somehow they were an asshole and wouldn’t care if your name was on it! What would happen then? What if it was someone like Bakugou who was taking your lunch? What then? You were sure you would cave in slight fear and major intimidation if he said that your lunch was his now.

“Want a cutie while we wait, cutie?” Mina asked, waving the small tangerine in her fingers as she grins.

“Please,” you say in gratitude for the food because you were starving. “Thank you.”

Eventually, you lost track of what was happening, becoming all too invested in the conversation that Mina was telling you about that involved Kaminari, Kirishima, Bakugou, Midoriya, twenty-seven Red Bulls, fifteen Monsters, and five shots of sake. It seemed that the former two were quite big instigators when they wanted to be, and the latter two were unable to back away from challenges, especially when the other was involved.

“Y/l/n?” an unfamiliar voice called from behind you, and you turned partially in your chair as you looked behind you.

Standing behind you was a tall man with red and white hair, and from this distance, you noticed immediately that his eyes were a deep grey and brilliant blue.

Todoroki Shouto.

“T-Todoroki-san!” you greet him back, voice unable to keep from trembling as your nerves shot up. What was going on? You two had never interacted before! He was always gone, never present, and whenever he was in the office, it seemed that you weren’t there.

He cleared his throat and raised up two identical bento boxes.

“It seems… I have apparently been stealing your bento boxes,” he concludes, pressing the blue bento box with your name written on it into your hands.

Your jaw drops as your fingers curve around the cool plastic, eyes blinking up a storm as you try to abstain from laughing high pitched and ugly like.

“It was you?!”

A pink color blooms onto his cheeks as he averts his eye contact with you and nods slowly, “I am so sorry.”

“I just… how?!” you exclaim, exasperated, this man obviously being a bit dense if he had no idea he was taking your bento box!

“I prepare my bento boxes the night before, and I don’t really remember what I put into them….” Todoroki explains slowly, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, his tongue clicking the roof of his tongue. “I just thought that my cooking was improving and that I was somehow doing an amazing job.”

The grin that overcomes your face is one of subtle, strange fondness and soft warmth. “I can tell you that you probably haven’t improved much,” you tease, opening your bento box to see your prepared meal for the day.

Cucumber salad, bulgogi beef, rice, and some fruit.

It was packed exactly how you remembered.

“I can’t believe I finally get to eat a meal I prepared,” you continue to tease, your eyes moving up to meet Todoroki, who was also looking at your bento previously. “Thank you for returning my meals and apologizing.”

“It was nothing,” Todoroki waved off with a single hand before opening up his own disastrously assembled bento box. It looked worse than usual today. Everything was just thrown in, it seemed. You saw egg and rice, but everything else in there was indescribable. He smiles at you before sighing at his bento. “This looks more like my stuff.”

You laugh, shaking your head, “You want to share my bento box? I’m sure you probably don’t want to return to that.”

“No, it’s okay,” Todoroki gently declined, although he looked at your bento with great want. He cleared his throat, gaze moving to lock on yours, and you swore his cheeks were still pink but no longer from embarrassment. “I just wanted to come and apologize for stealing your lunch for so long and to thank you for the meals; they were all delicious. Especially the soba you had made.”

“It’s all good; it’s in the past now,” you say gently, somehow finding yourself falling for a man you’ve barely just begun to talk with. The both of you stare at each other, and your skin feels warm. You chuckle, gaze averting for a moment before returning as you tease him. “Although, if you steal from me again, I’m not so sure if I’ll be so lenient.”

“It won’t happen again, promise,” Todoroki smiles, and you feel your spine melt. “But I would love to make it up to you somehow. I can make you dinner one night or something?”

You laugh, head shaking, “No, absolutely not; I don’t trust your cooking skills just yet. But you can definitely take me out to dinner.”

“Yeah, I can definitely do that,” Todoroki agrees, and the both of you fall silent as the shy stares continue. “Does, um… is Friday at seven okay with you?”

“That works,” you say, and Todoroki smiles.

“Good, I’ll uh, see you then?”

“See you,” you agree with a sweet smile before turning around, your fingers raised in a small wave.

You turn to see Mina, Uraraka, and Yaomomo staring at you, eyes comically wide and so very intrigued.

“Oh… my… GOD!” Mina shrieked as Todoroki walks away, and you shriek as she jumps across the table and shakes you, screaming about office romances and meet-cutes being entirely too underrated. “PROMISE ME I’LL BE INVITED TO THE WEDDING!!!!”

“MINA!”

It would take about three years of dating, several months of teaching Shouto how to cook, which resulted in a few bellyaches. Still, eventually yes, Mina would be invited to your wedding.

#todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #bnha x reader #bnha #mha

637 notes · View notes

animeomegas · 3 years ago

Note

Do you have sexy and normal hc for Haku? And if yes, could you please share? Thank you.

I have some sexy hcs for Haku coming up soon ish, so I'll just do the normal hcs for now! 💓

Okay, so, Haku lives in a wooden cottage in the middle of the woods with his alpha, about an hour from the nearest small village at civilian's pace.

Him and his alpha built it themselves with some help from some builders from the small village, and it's quite small, but it's perfect for them.

It has three small bedrooms, and an open living room kitchen space with a little table for eating in the kitchen. It also has a big garden where Haku grows medicinal herbs to make salves to trade in the village, and also vegetables and fruits to supplement their food that they trade and buy from the village about once a week.

One bedroom is for Haku and his mate, one is for their two/three pups to share, and the third one is split in the middle, half of it being Haku's nest and the other half a play room for the pups.

Haku has very easy pregnancies which is good because he gives birth in the middle of the woods 🙄 His mate is like... maybe we should go to a big village just in case?? Konoha would take us for a bit?? Or we could even just find a mednin to pay to stay with us for a while?? But Haku is so confident and chill about his pregnancies. He wants to give birth with his alpha in his nest alone, and so he just asks his alpha to go to classes to learn how to deliver the pup themselves.

I cannot stress how chill Haku is throughout the whole pregnancy. He just smiles and says that everything will be fine.

And he actually ends up being right lmao.

Haku's nest is very pretty and made from high quality materials, but it's quite sparse because transporting nesting materials can be difficult (sealing scrolls can make the soft fabrics smell musty so most omegas don't use them), especially if you live in the woods. So, whenever Haku and his mate do go to Konoha or whenever merchants selling nesting materials pass through the nearby village, Haku always grabs anything that takes his fancy and can fit in his bag. So, as time goes on, Haku's nest get more full, but to start with it's only a handful of blankets and a couple of cushions.

One of Haku's favourite ways to receive affection is with gifts. His face just lights up whenever his mate gives him a gift, especially books and games and nesting materials from whenever his mate leaves for the weekly shopping trip. And when he's pregnant, he loves when his mate picks him up some sweet food.

I imagine Haku and his family living somewhere with quite defined seasons, but still mild seasons. So, in winter, Haku heads to the village and buys a whole set of winter gear for his pups before he lets them leave the house, and then he wraps them up and the whole family has a snow ball fight in the woods, before gathering round the fireplace to cuddle with their alpha parent under a blanket while Haku makes everyone hot chocolate. In summer, Haku uses water jutsu to create a sprinkler type effect so his pups can run through it in the garden.

When Haku's pups are babies, he really likes to use a sling to keep them with him at all times.

It's just a very cute family who bake cupcakes together and garden and have a huge stone fireplace they curl up in front of 🥺🥺 adorable!!

#hcs #haku #naruto #headcanons #a/b/o #omegaverse #mpreg #alpha!reader #alpha reader #omega haku #reader insert

192 notes · View notes

arduadastra · 3 years ago

Note

Giving Javier a handjob under the table at a gathering dinner thing

A/N: Oh, oh my LORD anon this is juicy and I have every intention of taking this way too far because once Javi enters my writing space he makes me FERAL (This man needs to be stopped and apparently all it takes is a well-placed hand) I took the liberty of this being a just them thing (Hope that's ok!)

Warnings: NSFW - NO MINORS (18+) Semi-public sex, HJ's, swearing, Javi in a button-down.

Masterlist

You and Javi had been together exactly one year to the day and you had both decided to celebrate the occasion. Neither of you were big on anniversaries but Escobar was gone, the Cali cartel were finished and you had both just wanted to be together and enjoy being safe for the first time in…well…ever.

Choosing what to do had been a struggle though, neither of you wanting to spend too much money but also wanting to do something that meant you could be alone together. It felt like you had both been constantly around others and you needed the space. Eventually, after one too many arguments (Javi had put his foot down when you mentioned the mall and a movie) you decided on dinner.

You were both a bit clueless to the area, spending most of your time either on stakeouts out of the city or in the embassy so you had relied on Murphy’s recommendation for the restaurant and you had to say, the guy had good taste. It was quiet, not overly fancy but still had the atmosphere that meant dressing up was encouraged. It was cosy, exposed bricks and small lamps lighting the tables in a soft hue and when you sat down in the booth you couldn’t help but admire how the soft shadows danced across Javi’s face.

Your admiration certainly didn’t stop there. Javier had definitely pulled out all the stops for tonight and you were loving every second. He had chosen a dark suit with no tie, just a white shirt with the first few buttons left open that exposed his collarbone to your gaze. His suit jacket framed his broad shoulders deliciously and you could’ve outright moaned when he shrugged it off to roll his shirt sleeves up - that man knew all your buttons and he was damn well pushing them.

Javi cast you a knowing smirk as he picked up his menu and you watched as his large hands ran the length of the paper. His fingers tracing the edge of the menu much like he does on your skin and you feel the familiar heat flare-up in your gut. You weren't alone though, you knew you were having the same effect on him but he was just better at hiding it. You were wearing a dark red wrap dress that accentuated your hips, curves and ass, one of Javi’s favourite attributes of you, and you leant forward to show off a hint of a black lace bra.

He side-eyed you at that and you smirked, being partners with Javi long before you got together meant you could observe the man’s tells and from the flex of his jaw, you knew he was holding back. He loved red on you and he loved black lace too, you knew that. As you sat there and stared at the man in front of you, an idea crept into your head. How far would his resolve would go?

Making the man who fought drug traffickers on the streets and chased criminals across buildings while handling high-level negotiations without breaking a sweat crack would be a challenge. But you loved the idea of riling him up in such a public setting, the idea was too tempting.

You slid a hand onto his thigh, feigning ignorance as you pretended to read the menu in your hands whilst also making sure to rub slow circles just above his kneecap. His leg shifts under your ministrations and you slide it higher. He clears his throat.

Your hand stays when the waitress drops by to ask for your drinks order. As always Javi orders a whiskey and you order wine, loving the subtle hitch of Javi’s voice when you press your fingers into his inner thigh while he thanks the server. She walks away and he scowls at you, “What do you think you’re doing Hermosa?”

You shrug, fingers now trailing up his inseam and he clenches his thighs together, one hand dropping to clasp yours in a tight grip, “I said what are you doing?” You’re about to reply but then the waitress comes back with your drinks and Javi switches on his most charming smile and you can’t help but graze his crotch as he looks at the waitress, a small possessive side to you loving the widening of his eyes. You trail the spot, mapping it out under your fingers as she shamelessly flirts with him, a silent reminder of who he belongs to.

As she leaves, you lean into his ear, picking up your wineglass, your other hand remains preoccupied, “I’m having fun Javi, why? You think you can’t handle it?” You take a sip and squeeze slightly and Javi shuts his eyes, legs widening in silent acceptance.

Game on.

You drop your hand from his leg and let him settle, he exhales harshly and after a second brings the whiskey glass to his lips. You wait for him to take a sip before drifting your hand back up the outside of this thigh now and you see his jaw tick when he swallows. You lean across and place a gentle kiss on the tense spot before sliding your hand up and over, lingering on his crotch once more. Javi raises an eyebrow to you, a silent 'Is that all you've got?'

The next time you press, the waitress is back asking for your food order and while you give yours, under the table you’re playing with Javi’s slack button and you pop it open silently as he gives his. Your fingertips graze his boxers as you study his profile and while he doesn’t give anything away on his face, his clenched fist tells another story.

You finger the coarse hair just below the elastic and he manages a tense nod as the waitress asks him if he wanted fries. She seems annoyed by his lack of response and you revel in it. Javi doesn't dare look at you this time as she finally retreats, just takes a sip of his drink. You decide to do the same, the alcohol warming your body and leaving you feeling weightless in your actions. Your fingertips continue to slip just shy of his waistband before slipping over his boxers to cup him under his slacks.

Javi kicks his leg out, foot hitting the opposite table leg and he looks around, clearly seeing if anyone can see his compromising position, “Shit” he murmurs, “What if someone sees?”

You grin, “So what if they do Javi? Besides, it's pretty dark I think we’ll be okay” and with that, your hand begins a slow rhythm over his clothed cock and you hear a soft moan from the man beside you.

“Sssh Jav…”

He bites back a groan as your fingers slip against his warm skin again and delve lower, your fingers grazing his length as you sigh, “Only I get to hear those pretty sounds.” Javi nods frantically before realising the public nature of your acts and covers it by drinking again, seeming desperate in his gulps as he rolls his hips. Emboldened by his reaction, you softly wrap your hands around him and pull softly, knuckles rubbing against the inside of his zipper and you feel his hips buck again into your grip.

You take a moment to glance around and happy that no one can see what’s transpiring between the two of you, you look back at Javi’s face and you love what you see. His eyes have darkened significantly, pupils blown as you feel him harden further under the table and his bottom lip is swollen from his biting teeth. His usual golden-brown eyes are swimming in unbridled lust and as his tongue darts out to wet his lip, you can’t help but lean across and kiss him.

You keep it G rated, simply pressing your lips to his and relishing in the feel of his moustache against your lip. You slip your hand lower and start pumping him properly, swallowing his moans as you do. You lean back and look at his dishevelled face and continue, watching him white knuckle the table cloth beneath a clenched fist.

You kiss him again then against his lips you ask, “Think I can make you cum? Make you cum in front of everyone here with only the two of us knowing about the mess you’re gonna make all over yourself, baby?”

Javi pants, jaw slack and mouth open at your question. You take his silence as the opportunity to pull him totally free, exposing him to the warm air of the restaurant. Javi leans back and watches you, an intense stare you rarely see with your clothes on and you start moving in earnest. You slide towards him further, bracketing your bodies into the corner of the booth and you watch his pulse thrum under the tight skin of his neck.

You hasten the rhythm and his fingers slip against the wood where they grip the table, the other coming up to cover his mouth in a cough that sounds suspiciously like a groan as you thumb the head of his cock. Your thumb comes back slick and you use it to wet his shaft, now openly staring at Javi as he slowly falls apart under your hands…well hand.

You can tell he’s close through the frantic look in his eye, hesitant to release in such a public setting but you coax it out of him, running your lips against his neck and kissing him lightly as you say, “Come on Jav, cum for me, make a mess all under this fancy table.” and he does.

You've got to give the guy credit, he’s dead silent and you know how loud the man can be when he cums. He hunches slightly and gasps, chin tilted downwards as he watches himself release all over your fist and drip onto his pressed slacks. He squeezes his eyes shut, biting his tongue as you keep the pressure, knowing how sensitive he gets once he's cum. He opens his eyes, cheeks slightly pink in embarrassment and arousal and he sets his gaze on you.

It’s like the spell is broken and with that as he pushes your slick hand away and shoves himself back in, hips rising as he closes the zipper and button then grabs the napkin from his side, offering it to you with a raised brow, urgency clear on his face.

You notice the waitress just beginning to come over with the food and you offer Javi a wink before sticking your fingers in your mouth and sucking, popping your fingers clean with a smirk as the waitress comes over with the plates.

Javi is speechless.

You knew she must’ve seen something so you offer an apology as Javi still stares at you gobsmacked, “Sorry! Red wine gets everywhere sometimes and with these prices, I’m not wasting a drop!”

She laughs politely and set your food down as she begins to saunter away, pouting slightly when she notices Javi’s full attention is focused on you now rather than her backside.

You pick up your knife and fork and start eating, ignoring the shell shocked Javier at your side. He finally brings himself out of his stupor and grabs his plate, forcefully shovelling some pasta into his mouth before leaning across and hissing, "You've got five minutes to eat then we're leaving."

You frown, "But we just got here!"

Javi laughs darkly, "Oh we aren't leaving here cariño, just the table because after that stunt you just pulled? I'm taking you to that bathroom and fucking you, not in silence," He laughs again, "Fuck that. I'm going to make you moan for me so loudly that everyone in this god damn place will know exactly what you've been doing."

It's your turn to be stunned into silence.

"And then? We are coming right back here for dessert. I want everyone to know what a bad girl looks like after she's been thoroughly fucked."

He continues eating.

You stare at your food. Your pussy throbs at Javi's words and your head swims with the images he's presented. You hear him chide from beside you, "quedan cuatro minutos, mi amor..."

You've never eaten something so fast in your life.

------------------

I dedicate this also to @rattlethe-stars because both of us are slaves to Javier Peña and we have no shame in admitting it.

#javier pena #javi pena #narcos fic #javier pena x you #javier pena x reader #javier pena imagine #javier pena drabble #javier pena x female reader #javier pena smut #javier pena fic #pedro pascal character fic #pedro pascal

518 notes · View notes