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shining-gem34 · 3 months ago

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“you can’t stop the rapture of your arteries, or the shredding of your heart’s chambers.” - from yaoshi :) to yinyue jun

Poetry Sentence Starters || Accepting @grislyintentions

TW: HEAVY Gore, Vomiting, Attempted Suicide

Is there joy in finding salvation? Is there salvation in finding joy?

Since the beginning of his tragedy, Yinyue Jun experienced the agony of his body consumed by the Abundance. The beauty of his Creator [Long] gifts have dulled forcing him to overgo an abnormal molting. A process too painful to the point his horns bled and his hardened scales turn tender and soft. The tightening in his chest, throat itchy enough for him to cough petals covered in crimson.

Once, Yinyue Jun examined the state of his body.

His blood turns cold when he sees the buds rooted inside him. They dig deep into his veins, drinking his ichor for nutrients. He tried to get rid of them only for them to return the next day. When the first sign of their buds break through muscles and tissues, through scales and skins, Yinyue Jun rips them off. Uncaring to the bloody mess he made, for pain is a welcoming price to purge his body of the Abundance taint.

Alas, Yaoshi refuses to leave him alone. The wounds heal in seconds, flawless and free of imperfections. Yet the buds remain on his person, more stubborn to remove than the old ink stains on his desk.

Four seasons passes, the buds bloom into hauntingly beautiful lotus blossoms.

Yinyue Jun claws dig under his skin and tear off the blooming buds off of him. He takes with it a chunk of his flesh. A pool of crimson, bigger than the last time, washes away the comforting blue. It is the only color he sees now.

The welcoming pain has turned numb, unable to decipher the heat of the sun or the smooth surface of jade. His bodily functions, including the magic in his veins, are drained away by the parasites. As a result, he grows lethargic where every step is a strain on his limbs. The block of ice inside him becomes bigger, obstructing the flow of his magic to their proper functions.

Yinyue Jun is numb, cold, and tired.

Yaoshi parasites are vicious, vivacious, and vigorous.

More season passes, Yinyue Jun new resident is in darkness.

Where is he? It doesn't matter anymore.

Whether he's chained underwater or laying under THEIR branches, it doesn't matter anymore. The beauty of his Creator [Long] gift has become twisted under Yaoshi hands.

He coughs more petals covered in blood, the pain in his chest growing every time. Azure scales lost their luster, flaking and falling revealing soft and tender pink flesh. His horns are now stumps after the second forced molting.

In his memories, the mirror is cracked after witnessing the monstrosity he's become. It's broken, he tore off his "crown" once he saw the buds forming.

Another violent cough breaks through his body. He twists his body, claws scratching at his throat as he vomits blood and petals. The pain in his chest unbearable to the point he wants to tear out his heart and end it all.

With the last of his strength, while he's still in control of his own life, Yinyue Jun claws move to his chest. He swallows, throat dry and raw from before determination flashes in his teal eyes.

His claws presses against his flesh before cutting it.

The sickening crack of his sternum breaking echoes in the chamber. He thinks he threw up another mouthful of blood. How strange he cannot feel the pain anymore. His hand digs deeper until his fingers wrap around a beating organ and yanks it out of him.

A gasp escape him, but it sounds more like a gurgle.

Though his eyelids feel heavy, the room is dark, he can make out the shape of his heart in his hand. It glows, not from his magic, but from the lotus flowers blooming. Their roots make home in his heart tissues. The green stems constrict it, reminding Yinyue Jun he is now a prisoner of Yaoshi.

In the form of this "curse" the Plagues Author casted on him.

Another sigh escapes Yinyue Jun.

He feels numb, cold and tired.

Yinyue Jun closes his eyes for the last time. There is no feeling in his limbs. There is no warmth left in his body. There is no life to give anymore to these parasites thriving in this corpse of a body.

Finally, he can rest and release his soul from this cage tainted by Yaoshi.

But alas, Yinyue Jun cannot find peace even in death.

For THEIR gaze is always on him.

A blinding golden-green light forces him to open his eyes to witness THEIR descent. Unable to decipher THEIR expression, there are hands on him; holding the one grasping the weakly beating heart. THEY gently guide the organ back into the void in his chest. A pulse of THEIR gift flows into Yinyue Jun, breathing life into his parasite-infested lungs.

He inhales sharply, eyes going wide in horror at the realization, "No..."

A sweep of THEIR fingers across his chest closes the void, leaving only a beautiful lotus right over his heart. Yinyue Jun shakes his head, denying everything that is happening him to be a nightmare.

"Give me death." Yinyue Jun demands, ignoring the flowers blooming on his now regrown horns. Ignores his tail, now covered in green-tinted blue scales, flickering angrily behind him. "I demand death! This is not what I wanted! I refuse to be under your prisoner, Plagues Author!"

His hands shoot up to wrap around THEIR neck; teal eyes blazing with pure hatred for the abomination before him.

Yinyue Jun doesn't recall THEIR expression, but in the back of his mind he realizes something:

The pain his body endured as it slowly eroded away is gone; like it never existed in the first place.

But there is no joy or salvation in this knowledge.

#jade answers (a ask)#jade writes (drabbles)#grislyintentions #moon drinker (il)#my bones rot/flowers bloom on my horns (Abundance AU-Yinyue Jun)#a shackled prisoner (angst/serious/gore)#sinking my teeth into your divine flesh/you feast on my heart: Imbibitor Lunae x Yaoshi (grislyintentions)#||Holyl shit this ended up a drabble #Dan Feng not having a good time yo #He just wants to be left alone and Yaoshi said no #warning tags pending (if needed)#tw: blood #tw: sui attempt #tw: gore

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silverskyeline · 3 months ago

Text

'look at me' 18+

oneshot - logan can't fuck like he used to, but you don't care. you get on top, gladly taking care of him in return. (2k words) pairing - logan howlett (logan 2017) x gn!reader tags: pre-established relationship, doggy style, penetration, dom!logan, reader rides logan, filthy talking logan, he talks you through it, rough, praise kink, cursing, mutual orgasm, choking, 'use your words', unprotected sex, creampie, sweet ending

logan can't keep up like he used to, but he still fucks you like a man possessed when he's able, like a rabid animal - hips bucking, muscles flexing, baring his teeth as he takes you.

his rough, calloused and scarred hands grip your waist, contrasting against your soft skin. that veiny length makes quick work of your needy hole, just like you wanted.

moments before, you'd teased him for the tent in his blue jeans. logan had cocked a smirk, that same signature smirk that always renders you weak at the knees as he began unbuckling his belt, taking his sweet time. you would wait, he knew you'd wait, you were good for him like that. the distinct sound of the clinking metal and the unsheathing of leather caused a shiver to run down your spine, a throbbing in your core. you needed him just as much as he needed you.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

it wasn't fair, how he could tell as soon as he entered a room just how much you wanted him. he could smell it, smell your arousal clear as day, he'd teased you about it so many times. the scent fills his mind every time, makes his cock twitch in his boxers, the need to have you almost overwhelming.

your soft wanting moans drift to his ears, one of his palms sliding up to the base of your spine as he keeps you firmly bent over on the bed, fucking into you with purpose. rough grunting spills from his lips, your head turning to catch his eye, watching as beads of sweat form on his forehead. chest rising and falling, logan grits his teeth.

"this what you wanted, huh?" he grunts, his sentence punctuated with a particularly harsh thrust that knocks the wind from both of you, "you wanted my cock? hm? just couldn't fuckin' help but tease and tease. . ."

you whine, gripping the sheets in front of you as the room fills with the lewd sound of skin on skin. he always liked it rough, plus - you'd known logan long enough to know how he liked to channel his anger into sex. and he was fucking good at it. you'd take it, again and again, as harsh as he wanted to give. because you knew that as soon as you were done, he'd be scrambling to pepper soft kisses along your neck, praising you for how good you'd been for him.

his thrusts falter, and you reach back to take his wrist in your hand in a comforting gesture. the harsh panting tells you all you need to know, his grip on you fading. but it's alright, you know how to take care of him, too. you tug at his wrist and after a brief moment of hesitation, he pulls out and lays beside you, looking almost defeated.

your hips find their home atop his and you nestle against him, slowly grinding back and forth on his length. his hands immediately search for your thighs, pawing at the flesh as he looks up at you. you drink in his expression, the way he's looking at you through his heavy eyelids, his scarred, sweaty bare chest rising and falling harshly.

"let me take care of you. . ." you whisper, your hands sliding up across the feverish skin on his chest, threading through the hair that grows there.

he licks his lips, attempting to protest "but i-"

"shhhh. . ." you shake your head, inching upwards to brush his leaking tip against your entrance and he hisses at the contact, "i said let me take care of you. . ."

you sink down on his cock, gasping as he fills you once more - at this point, you've memorised every vein on that thing. you love how he fills you so completely, how you almost, almost struggle to take him in all the way.

"fuck. . ." he huffs, his eyes fluttering shut as he grasps your thighs, sinking into the bed. he hates it, hates how fucking tired he gets nowadays. but damn if you don't look like the prettiest little thing bouncing on his cock like that.

and you want to comfort him, to let him know that it's okay. you'd ride him every night if he'd let you, but he always insists that he can do it, that he can still go as hard and as fast as he used to all those years ago. fast or slow, it didn't bother you, as long as you had logan, you'd be happy, content with even a passing glance from him in your direction.

"look so pretty up there. . ." he coos breathlessly, watching you bounce, his hand snaking up to rest on your stomach as he admires you.

you moan, tilting your head back - and he groans in response, dick twitching desperately, aching to fill you as his hips buck against your movements. he loves watching you ride him like this, watching as you take control, set the pace you want.

the rough hand on your stomach drifts upwards, finding its home around your neck, gently still. but even the soft grip has you reeling, gripping his wrist. you know he still wants to feel some control, that it wasn't because he was losing energy that he was on his back, no. . . it was a choice.

and you indulge him, working down over his cock with your tight hole, clamping around him as your hips meet his over and over. he's groaning, grumbling, eyes fluttering shut as he's lost in the way you take him.

"logan, look at me. . ." you whisper pleadingly, nails digging into his chest, fingertips tracing across the scars there.

immediately his eyes open to lock onto yours, and when he sees you? fuck, he needs more. he uses his grip on your throat to pull you down into a deep kiss, breathing heavily through his nose as his tongue delves into your mouth. you love how much more experienced he is than you, how he makes quick work of you every fucking time, has you a mess for him, opening up to him in every way you can.

"yeah. . . that's it. . ." he grumbles against your lips, kissing you with a fierce passion that borders on animalistic between words, "keep workin' that cock, keep bouncin', you're doin' so well."

you clench around him at those very words, unable to even think straight with his tongue shoved into your mouth and his cock stuffed deep inside you. he's taking you in every way you'll give yourself to him. even with him on his back and with half his energy he's still able to have you squirming.

and the praise, the fucking praise. logan knows just how to talk to you to make you melt. he'll fuck you roughly, desperately pumping his dick into you whilst whispering that you're the prettiest thing he's ever seen into your ear. he'll have you split in half with his thick arms hooked around your legs whilst telling you that you're so good for him, calling you sweet pet names that contrast his rough movements.

that voice of his, gravely, deep, rumbling. you can't think straight when he talks to you this way.

"such a sweet little thing," he groans, his hand on your thigh snaking around to give your ass a quick slap before grabbing a handful. light work for him considering the size of his hands - don't even get him started on what he likes to do with those. . .

you call his name, whimpering against his lips as you try to keep up with his kisses all while riding him. your mind is blank, slamming your hips down against him as he bucks up, meeting your thrusts - sending him deeper and deeper.

his hand on your neck traces along your skin to grip the back of your head, feeling as his digits spread across your scalp. "fuuuuuck," he groans, "can feel how tight you are, you're gonna cum, huh?" logan asks, though it's less of a question and more of a statement. he knows your body better than you do.

you nod, whimpering pathetically, inches from his lips.

eyes darting from your mouth, up into your gaze, he grins, "use your words, c'mon. i asked you a question."

"yes logan, yes, fuck- i'm gonna cum!" you cry out, tilting your hips as you chase that high he wants to give you.

with his mouth open, he pants, watching you above him with a keen fascination as your face contorts in pleasure. slowly, a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. his favourite thing in the world is to watch you come undone around him, the way your eyes roll back, your pulse quickening under his fingertips.

"c'mon, c'mon, c'mon. . ." he growls, rutting into you from below, feeling as you spasm around his hard, girthy length, "if you cum, i'll cum nice and deep inside you, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"logan. . ." you whine, a clear yes. your head dips down to press against his shoulder, unable to keep yourself upright with the intensity of it all.

he chuckles and it's like music to your ears, loving those rare little noises of his - treasuring the sounds he makes while enjoying you.

both hands are back on your hips now, guiding you, slamming you down onto him as you gasp with each thrust, "c'mon. . . give me what i want, what we both want - make a mess for me."

his words hit you like a command, a call to arms - you will cum for him, make a mess of him and his sheets. you're calling his name into the skin of his neck as you cry out, feeling the orgasm beginning to tear through you.

and he can feel it, feel how you convulse and clamp down on his dick, causing him to gasp. he's moaning, groaning, words catching at the back of his throat as he tries to continue to talk you through it - but he can't. you're fucking him too good, he's gonna cum too.

ropes and ropes of white hot cum fill you, pushed deeper and deeper by his faltering thrusts as his dick twitches with each spray. you gasp, writhing against him as he holds you firmly in place, pulling you down one last time and holding you there as he empties into you completely.

you're whimpering, whining, body jerking as the intensity increases as you roll your hips, riding out the last of your orgasm until you're both left a panting, sweaty mess.

"holy fuck. . ." he whispers into the air, closing his eyes to centre himself, world spinning.

meanwhile, you can't even talk, can't even think about forming words, mind instead occupied with feeling his hot cum dripping out of you.

logan pets the back of your head, stroking your hair gently in an attempt to help you come back into the moment. he wants to thank you, but that's never been his strong suit. instead, he kisses the crown of your head, peppering kisses down along your forehead as he hooks his thumb and forefinger under your chin to bring your face closer to his.

he looks into your hazy, exhausted eyes, his own gaze full of love and appreciation. this is what he lives for - watching you bathe in the afterglow, being lucky enough to look into your eyes every day, being blessed enough to have you here like this.

you greet him with a sleepy, almost bashful smile.

he smiles too, and god, butterflies blossom deep within your stomach. you love him, you love him tired, you love him angry, you love him grumpy, you love him on his back, on top - whatever, you just love him.

"you're too good for me," he whispers as his lips find your forehead once more.

you know those words are his way of saying thanks, but you shake your head in protest, "stop that, not another word."

logan looks into your eyes, really looks at you, those soft hazel hues meeting your gaze. he simply smiles in silence as his hand drifts to your cheek.

the room falls into a comfortable silence, and you wonder how logan ever let you this close. but you don't care, all you care about is taking care of him.

and you will, for as long as he lets you.

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