#quail scratches

[explodingquails]

Tail'zel traumatizes Shadowheart with Gith biology more at nine

Comic collab with the amazing @dustybones! Dusty did the beautiful lines and I did the layout and colors. Hope you enjoy this product of us putting our tadpoles together :)

Everyone go show Dusty's post some love as well <33

[itsfreeandthecopscantstopyou]

One of my quails survived a cat attack!

could you please tell me – in one sentence, without many details – what recently happened in your life? It can be mundane like folding laundry, or deeper if you feel like sharing!!

[swordgrace]

❝ 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐎𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆.❞

KINKTOBER WEEK ONE — OVERSTIMULATION.

⤿ pairings: jacaerys velaryon x betrothed!reader.

⤿ word count: 6.5K (i got carried away)

⤿ warnings: smut (mdni), experienced!reader, dom!reader, sub!jace, dry humping/grinding, jace is a virgin, horny/yearning jace, mutual pining, heavy kissing, overstimulation (fem!rec), fingering (fem!rec), handjob, cunnilingus (fem!rec), talking jace through it, praise kink, hair-pulling kink, lots of body kissing, teasing, dirty talk, lots of begging

⤿ note: lowkey this is the final jace post for a long time, I think I got it all out & tried to combine some kinktober requests all into one :)) hope y’all enjoy!

Dusky curls fall across pallid features, brows creased in concentration with a curtain of stoicism.

The scrawling of a quill scratches hastily against parchment, its destination unknown to you. It is difficult to see him as a man grown, for men do not often pout with pliant lips.

Nightfall brings an unwanted chill, the first inklings of oceanic ice biting away at your bones, swirling about through the ancient stronghold of Dragonstone. Even the fur-lined slip you wear does not offer much comfort.

In the sparse moments that you shared with Jacaerys since the announcement of your union, you’ve strived to learn as much as you can about him. Loveless, tenuous arrangements were commonplace — you did not want to waste your years toiling alongside a man who cared little for you.

To your great fortune, he shared your sentiments, tracing the outline of your soul with his fingertips, gracing you with his time whenever he could. With the youth of the evening underway, you sought him out, having missed him at dinner.

Between the gap in the door and the cobbled archway, you stand within the shadows of the corridor, one palm perched along ancient mahogany. Wordlessly, you keep to your fleeting observations, hues flickering across the handsome plane of his visage.

The Prince of Dragonstone — your intended, whose kindly hand continued to cradle yours through the endless turbulence of a darkening political climate. You considered yourself lucky — it could’ve been much worse, an arranged marriage.

Jacaerys’s chambers fare far better than your own, befitting of royalty, steeped in Targaryen decorum and tapestries of crimson and black. Candlelight dances across his jaw, bathing him in a light so spectacular that it nearly rips the air from your lungs.

Handsome is a mere understatement — the Velaryon prince was every bit as comely as some gallant knight ripped from pages of a novella. Your stomach erupts with constant butterflies whenever you catch a glimpse of him, longing to tangle yourself within him.

For a moment, he pays you little mind, drowning in a sea of parchment, tackling the growing duties ushered in by the brink of war. You admired his desire for usefulness — he had brought plentiful allies into the fold with his determination and ambition.

“You did not come to dinner,” Your announcement is disarmingly gentle, the croon of a songbird through dusk as you slip inside of his quarters. It seems to ensnare him then, having you here, unchaperoned. “Are you not famished?”

You carried a silver plate of lukewarm foodstuffs, roasted quail, broiled vegetables, and a smattering of fruit — his stomach lurches at the sight. “I suppose I lost track of time,” He exhales, placing his quill down atop his desk. “Forgive me — my responsibilities seem rather endless.”

Beauty blossomed from you like a flourishing meadow, the warmth of springtime; tender, made to cloak him in your sweetness. He was captivated by you, still smitten to be alone in a room, and yet he committed countless sins within the recesses of his mind.

Between the occasional grace of your hand and a chaste kiss against his cheek, it left Jacaerys within a realm of wanting. An ocean of you, and he was drowning. It was improper to think of you in such a salacious manner, but the hot blood of youth prevailed.

“Then break from it,” You insisted, footsteps light as you crossed the threshold from doorway to desk, nudging the plate of food in his direction. “Hours without a quill in-hand will not hinder you any less.”

A threadbare smile graced his comely features, and he seemed accepting of your suggestion. In the time that you had been betrothed, he had made every effort to learn more about you — such efforts were not in-vain, as he made ample progress.

There was a kindly warmth to you, a depth that he found invigorating. You were shy, initially — time softened you, and you unfurled like the petals of a moonflower, showing your promise and intelligence, your swift wit.

Reluctantly, Jacaerys submitted to your advice, abandoning his quill and parchment for the somewhat mundane taste of now-cold food. Still, it was enough to relieve the gnawing bite within his stomach, allowing him to relax as much as one could.

“Why does your quill scratch so furiously?” Your inquiry drifted through the air, to be caught by him. It seemed that his only company was that of dust-laden tomes and endless parchment that swallowed him whole.

Begrudgingly, a wistful sigh tore past your betrothed’s rosy lips, fixed into a vexed expression. “I work tirelessly to bring allies into the fold for my mother’s cause,” He uttered, picking at the stem of a grape. “Some of it is to no avail.”

Empathetic, you placed your palm atop his shoulder, sinking into velvet and toughened silk. He nearly buckled beneath such a simple touch alone, fighting away the string of untoward thoughts. Instead, he reached, digits climbing to seize yours.

“Do not let this weight burden you so, Jacaerys. There are more than enough men to even the load,” Shaking his head, you were again privy to your intended’s glaring streak of stubbornness. “You do not have to take it all on your shoulders.”

“It is the only way to find some shred of worth, of usefulness,” He bemoaned his mother’s tight leash — she never let him scout, take to the skies on Vermax, participate in anything that wasn’t docile. “Being coddled in this way is maddening.”

Silken digits flexed around his hand, prompting him to relax, if he were even capable of such a thing. “If I were the Queen, my desire would be to protect you. Coddling can be easily mistaken for an overprotective nature.” You soothed, canting your head to one side.

He took little comfort in your words, as much as he longed to believe them. Perhaps he did not see such a goal now — in time, his thoughts may shift. “I will not trouble you with such thoughts any longer.” Jacaerys exhaled, and you let it rest.

In an unexpectedly sweet gesture, you brought his hand to the plushness of your lips, and as if you were some debonair swordsman, kissed his knuckles. The obvious flush of rose permeated his cheeks, and you then released his hand, much to his dismay.

Silence filled the void of conversation as you wandered about his chambers, quietly admiring the draconic decorum before seeking to sit, plucking at your nightgown. Being alone with him, here — it wasn’t entirely proper, and subconsciously, you were aware of this.

“Did supper yield any conversation of importance?” He inquired, eyes following you as you sat down atop the velveteen cushion of the chaise lounge. Hues of wisteria and mauve comprised your evening gown, colors that you wore splendidly.

“You did not miss much of anything,” Twisting around within your seat, you faced Jacaerys, tucking a fist beneath your chin. “Though, I certainly missed your presence. I feel like a stranger without you near.” You murmured.

Sent to Dragonstone to be at the side of your betrothed, you were away from home — unnerved, pensive, and left to wander about with no true direction. Jacaerys had done his best at ensuring that you were comfortable, but the feeling was not a permanent one.

“For that, I apologize,” Jace sighed, finishing half of his plate before rising from his seat. “I fear that this conflict has put a strain on all within this castle. You are not the source of any indifference.” He assured you, circling the lounge to sit by your side.

Closeness was something he’d yearned for in a way he never had before, and within the proximity of your warmth, he seemed to bristle. Seven Hells, how would he outlast this storm? He could not seem to halt the mounting desire he had for you.

If it weren’t for his sensibility and wanting to be gallant for you, as your intended husband, the impetuousness of lust would’ve guided his hand.

Crackling embers within the hearth began to wane, basking you in shades of orange, growing duller with each passing moment. He sat up straighter in your presence, stealing glances where he could, committing your features to memory.

Reassured, you offered him a gracious smile, hands folded neatly within your lap. “It is comforting to know that my presence here is not unwanted,” You sighed, casting your gaze to the flames. “I must thank you for your kindness, Jacaerys.”

A fluttering heat settled within the pit of your stomach when you momentarily caught his eyes — earthy-brown swirling with something indiscernible, yet something faintly familiar. Carnality was not lost upon you, for you had experienced it before.

Jacaerys, however — you pondered if your betrothed was still virtuous. The sins committed in your youth had been carefully hidden beneath many layers, layers you felt as if you could reveal to him.

Clearing his throat, Jacaerys tempered himself, wanting to pull himself in from acting upon basic impulses. Some part of him felt truly depraved for thinking of you in such untoward ways, but he couldn’t help himself. Many evenings were spent in grisly solitude, dreaming of you, fantasizing.

”It is my duty as your betrothed to ensure your comfort,” His words emerged as somewhat breathless, as if he were labored in his attempts to draw air. You did not see it, but he fisted the cloth along his thigh in an attempt to relieve some tension. “I am to be your husband.”

“Yes, and for that, I am eternally grateful,” Steeling yourself, you decided to give him the truth, unobstructed and plain as a clear day. “I do not wish for there to be any secrets kept between us, which is why I must confess something to you.”

Perplexed, dark brows furrowed together, yet they seemed to show little signs of hostility or malice. There were countless options as to what this could be — anything. A secret laid bare before him in a moment like this had the potential to ruin everything.

Through a clenched fist and tight jaw, Jacaerys swallowed the growing lump within his throat, affording you the courtesy of his undivided attention. “What is troubling you?” Rigid, he waited for you to speak, noticing the brief hesitation that surrounded you.

A sliver of you feared judgment, that such past deeds would permeate your union in a sour light, but you hoped that Jacaerys would not begrudge you for it. With a steady inhale, you cleared your throat.

“I have lost my maidenhead,” Silently, you pleaded to whatever Gods would listen, hoping that Jacaerys would be kind enough to lend you his understanding. “Before this union, before I was betrothed to you. It was long in the past and something that weighs heavily on me.”

It was not anger he felt, but jealousy.

Jealous that another man had the pleasure of having you, to touch you, to live within your fair heart. He nearly shuddered when imagining you in such a lewd manner, so much so that his features became rosy in pallor. Yet, it was long in the past and something set in-stone.

Out of nervousness, you let out a soft cough, smoothing your palms across your legs. “I — Please forgive me, Jacaerys. I only wished to have transparency between us. I hope that this does not tarnish anything.”

“No,” Jacaerys inhaled sharply, hot air filling his lungs, heart thrumming beneath his ribcage. “It does not tarnish anything.” An angry heat crawled across his spine, settling his flesh ablaze with another wave of want, an ache that refused to leave him.

“You are not angry with me?” The sweetness of your inquiry tasted saccharine upon his tongue, honeyed words tangling around his heart. It wasn’t something that you were proud of, but you did not regret such actions, either.

“I am not,” He assured, tensing when you brazenly reached for his hand, squeezing it as a show of affection. Jacaerys felt so incredibly pathetic, feeling his cock twitch incessantly within his trousers from the mere touch of your heavenly hand. “You are still my betrothed. My sentiments will not change.”

Even still, he looked pensive, as if he were teetering on the brink of madness. There was a visible frustration within his features that betrayed his words, prompting you to question him sharply.

“You seem agitated, even still. What troubles you?” It was too shameful to confess to his insurmountable sins — how horribly he desired you, this heart of rot. Jacaerys feared that you would despise him if he said what was on his heart and mind.

Flushed and flustered, he looked away, yet you continued to chase after him, digits caressing across his hand. Gooseflesh iced his spine, throat growing with thickness as he shook his head. “It is improper, and unbecoming of a Prince.”

“More unbecoming than what I just confessed to you?” You wanted him to be put at-ease — intimacy was merely a fact of life, and you understood its sacredness, but the past was simply that. “Jacaerys, we are to be wed, you and I. Consummation will inevitably be apart of that. There isn’t anything that you could say that would turn me away now.”

He would seek absolution on the morrow for this — there was no returning from the onslaught of desire he now faced. It was as if a great storm had rattled his bones, and instead of rainfall, it was his lust laid bare, as dark as swirling thunderclouds.

Biting at his tongue, Jacaerys attempted to stave off his confession, earthen hues flickering away, clinging to anything else. It was wrong to think of you so often — and each thought was wrought with a stinging lust.

“I hunger for you,” It was spoken in a gravelly groan that made your insides twist with a newfound excitement. His cock was throbbing, aching with something awful. “I am envious of this man in your past, longing to be in his place. I have … Thought about you, in ways that are untoward.”

Fluttering breaths hitched within the depths of your throat, growing thicker with each passing moment. Nails dug into the cushion beneath you, his confession leaving behind a wake of fire, turning you to ash.

Admittedly, Jacaerys was not alone in his lascivious imaginations — you fantasized about the very same, more times than you could possibly count.

Jacaerys steeled himself, and as much as he desired to remain collected and maintain propriety, it was all dissolving at the seams. “I — I have not the experience that you have, but I hope that I can learn what pleases you.”

His affections were ravenous, the sting of youth that burned with inexperience, yet he cared little for such a thing. Jacaerys was eager, beyond desperate to know how to best pleasure you, longing for your instruction, if you would offer it freely.

A growing fire stirred within your loins, enough to make your breath hitch within your throat. “Do you wish to consummate tonight?” You questioned, and to that, Jacaerys shook his head.

“No, no — I want to touch you,” His desperation was gorgeous, something that you seldom experienced. “I long to learn your body, but I fear that I may covet you.” Jacaerys uttered, lips parting as a wisp of air tore past his mouth.

“There is no sin in coveting your wife,” Your voice had rolled into some mesmerizing lull, a near-purr that sent shivers down his spine. “Someone who is already yours.” The label was now established, and you were quite satisfied with that. You were blessed to have one of the better husbands in the realm.

Jacaerys huffed, pliant lips graced by firelight, deliciously pink as he met your mouth halfway. It was a frenzied kiss, born of his own yearning and overwhelming desperation, and yours began to climb to new heights of their own.

This hunger was different — it was thrilling and exhilarating, sending a rush of excitement to your stomach, thighs shifting together beneath your nightgown. Your hands reached for his shoulders, digits toying with the clasps of his cloak.

Tousled curls framed his freckled visage, cheeks blossoming with a delicate shade of rose as he kissed you, so passionate that it nearly stole your breath from your lungs. Your digits then crawled towards the nape of his neck, seeking to pull him closer.

A simpering groan stirred within his throat, erupting in a cacophony of breathy sighs as he felt you press closer. Silk clung to your frame, allowing him to glimpse your beauteous curves, to know that something perfect dwelled beneath.

Pupils blown with lust were shielded beneath thick eyelashes and fluttering lids as he scrambled to catch his breath, hands unsure of themselves. “Show me what to do,” Jacaerys sighed, feeling your lips halt to a crawl. “Please.”

To your awe and delight, Jacaerys was subservient, willing to learn and to let you guide his hand. Instinct would drive him soon enough. “Let your hand wander, wherever it pleases you.” Soft digits folded around his wrist, bringing his palm to your collarbone.

If he acted on such whims, there was no telling where his hand might travel, and so he restrained himself. Soft gossamer fabrics swept against his fingertips as he felt the divide where clothing met flesh. He wanted to unravel you, see you with his own eyes.

An excitable shiver iced his spine, jaw tensed as you slipped from your robe, only a curtain of thin silk resting between him and your body. His features seemed permanently steeped in a warm blush, painted with a swath of rose and pink.

The soft peaks of your nipples pebbled beneath fabric at the loss of your robe, gooseflesh raking across your skin at the pace of a wave. His hesitation was visible, etched into his features as he deliberated on what to do, afraid of startling you as if you were a doe in the woodlands.

It was then when you pressed closer, slipping yourself into the expanse of his lap, tossing a leg over his hips until you settled fully. His earthy hues widened, breath hitching within the depths of his throat as he struggled to maintain his composure.

What he wanted to do and what was expected of him were two forking avenues. Jacaerys felt his mouth water involuntarily, palms finally finding their confidence as he placed them atop your hips, caressing toward your thighs. “You are mesmerizing, and even that is a sore understatement.”

His honeyed words elicited a smile from you, fingers gracing the velvet of his doublet, seeking to slip beneath the clasps to remove his tunic. “May I?” You inquired, eyelashes fluttering in rapid succession as your betrothed nodded breathlessly.

As nimble fingers sought to rid him of his tunic, Jacaerys craned forward, mouth desperately seeking your own. A delicate gasp slipped past your lips, dancing with his own, hands preoccupied with feasting upon bare flesh.

He was lean, musculature present yet nothing close to bulky. Broad shoulders were covered in smatterings of freckles that climbed toward his visage, dusted across his face. Jace shivered beneath your palms as they skirted across his chest.

The prominent tent within his trousers brought about an ache like no other, one that he longed to extinguish. Your position made it difficult for him to focus, occasionally bumping your core against him, thighs squeezing incessantly at his hips.

The galloping of his heart slammed against his ribcage, a fluttering sensation spreading like hot tendrils throughout his chest. Darkening hues caught a glimpse of your breasts, yearning to see you without any obstruction at all.

A pang of anxiousness swelled with his gut, the nervousness of performing, of ensuring that you were well-satisfied by his hand. Each kiss evoked a wave of desire that threatened to burn him to ash in your fire, feeling your fingers rake through his curls.

His hands kindly roamed over your body, cupping the swell of your hips through your gown before rising across your stomach. They inevitably sought your breasts, kneading into your clothed flesh, and he felt the soft moan stir within your throat.

Only thin laces provided a degree of separation — between your heavenly flesh and his sinful hand.

“Where do you enjoy being touched?” Jacaerys whispered, features feverishly hot, basked in an orange glow; ethereal, with the makings of a true prince. “I wish to please you.” The needy strain within his tone filled your belly with fire.

“By your hand? Everywhere,” You crooned, dazzled by his gentleness and eagerness to learn. Jacaerys touched you with true selfless intent, driven by the carnal desire to please you, satisfy you as your intended husband. “Between my legs, my thighs, breasts, neck.”

Jacaerys reached for the laces of your nightgown, searching your countenance for any sign of hesitation. “May I undress you?” He questioned, voice pitched with lust, a delicious husk that scratched a certain part deep within you.

“Yes,” A huff, a sigh of relief — you were the very picture of temptuous beauty, armed with the grace of a maiden. You watched with thinly-veiled rapture as Jacaerys gingerly tugged at the laces, silk sagging upon your form. “You are so perfect.”

He was a novice still, merely an apprentice when it came to the intricacies of sensuality, yet hearing your sweetly-spoken praise made him preen. Billowing silk fell away, unraveling your form until it was naked flesh exposed to the warmer air of his chambers.

Gods, you were so beautiful — painfully so, a goddess incarnate, made for him to worship so reverently at your feet. Jacaerys could not mask his want for you, tracing along your bare flesh as if you were a map of constellations, yet even stars would envy you.

With a steadily-growing confidence and assurance, Jacaerys’s fingers caressed along your thigh, tracing upward until he reached the pliant curve of your chest. He cupped your breast, feeling you bristle beneath his touch, thumb brushing across your nipple.

A shiver gripped you, lips parting with a soft gasp as you careened forward, gooseflesh crawling along your spine. “Jacaerys,” A low moan stirred within your throat, eyes pleasantly half-lidded. You felt his lips cautiously press against the slope of your jaw. “Don’t stop.” You sighed.

Swallowing the lump of anxiousness within his throat, Jacaerys did not deliberate, attempting to shed himself of his hesitancy. Each kiss was exploratory, soft lips peppering themselves toward the column of your throat.

He continued to knead and toy with your breast, savoring the sensation of silky flesh within his palm, digits flicking over your nipple. Your hand raked through his curls, absentmindedly tugging until it evoked a groan from his mouth.

Warm, molten heat coalesced between your thighs, slick against your core as you rocked yourself against his growing erection. Jacaerys gasped, lips nearly faltering, but he didn’t want to tear himself away from you so soon.

His kisses became fervent, hot against your flesh as he kissed his way across your throat, seeking your collarbone. Your unattended breast did not lack the attention for long, as he kneaded into your chest with a passionate need.

“Use your mouth.” You instructed, voice teetering along the fine edge of breathlessness, teeth grazing across your lower lip. Jacaerys peered at you, visage flushed with pink, earthy hues flickering toward your breasts.

Jacaerys obeyed, mouth making a trail toward your chest, holding you aloft. Curious lips peppered themselves over your breast, shuddering at the sensation of your nails gently raking over his scalp. “Here?”

You nodded, unable to pry your eyes away from him as he took one of your breasts into his mouth, teeth grazing soft flesh, sucking at your nipple. A wanton moan tore past your lips, such a cry causing his grasp to tighten, your back arching into him.

“Perfect,” Sweetly-spoken praises drifted throughout his chambers, hips incessantly grinding themselves against his clothed tent. Jacaerys nearly moaned in-tandem with you, kissing your chest with gallantry, attempting to stave off his burning arousal. “Do you enjoy that?”

Feigning ignorance as to not give you an edge, Jacaerys looked to you, flushed countenance betraying the words coming out of his mouth. “Enjoy what?” He inquired, hoping to distract you by craning upwards for a kiss.

“This,” Perplexed, you rocked your hips forward again, your cunt brushing against the tent in his breeches. Jace very nearly collapsed beneath your gesture, dark brows furrowing together. “Does it feel pleasurable?”

Jacaerys hesitated, terrified of reaching his peak and ending things prematurely. “Yes,” He panted, throat swimming with a certain thickness. “Gods, I need you — you can’t continue like this.” He pleaded, somewhat sheepish. “I do not wish for it to end so soon.”

Planting a kiss against your betrothed’s brow, you cocked your head to one side. “Nothing has to end once you’ve reached your peak, Jace,” He reveled in your use of his nickname. “There is plenty left to do.”

Filled with a semblance of relief, your intended traced his hands along your sides, feeling along your body. “What would you want me to do?” Eagerness crept into his voice, something you greatly appreciated.

“Kiss me between my legs,” You suggested, watching the scarlet pallor flourish within his cheeks, spreading toward his throat. “Touch me, if it pleases you.” As if to accentuate your statement, you grinded against him again, eliciting a husky moan from the depths of his throat.

Dragging his hand toward the apex of your thighs, he peered at you for tutelage, guidance on where exactly to touch you. Wordlessly, your hand slipped to his wrist, coaxing his digits to your slick cunt, noticing the blush on his features.

Admittedly, you were just as feverishly hot, lips parting slightly as he began to explore, concentrating on your satisfaction. Two fingers parted your petals, seeking to stroke along your slit. It evoked a soft gasp from you, hips careening into the subtle gesture.

“There?” Jacaerys questioned, digits creeping upward until they softly rolled around your clit, stimulating that electric clutch of nerves. You moaned, and it seemed to offer him some answers. “Is that what you want?” He whispered, octave sultry in its resonance.

His words made you smitten, yet you nodded in response, watching as he began to find his confidence. Letting your palms drift toward his abdomen, your back arched as he began to toy with your clit, reveling in the pleasure scrawled across your countenance.

His perfect lips consumed your whimpers, swallowing them whole in the embrace of his mouth. Jacaerys kissed you hard, lips dancing in such a heated entanglement, yet his digits never ceased their movements.

Eager digits preened through his dark tresses, one fist gripping at the nape of his neck. Your other hand sought to find the waist of his trousers, tugging at the strings until they loosened altogether. His visage appeared bewildered, as if he didn’t expect it, yet he didn’t want you to stop.

A whine tore through your throat as he circled your clit with a clumsy inexperience, yet you wouldn’t fault him for it. Jacaerys exerted more effort into learning alone than your previous paramour ever had, and you had nothing but gratitude in your heart.

Jacaerys’s fingers graced places where he knew he could hear you — evoke a myriad of disgraceful noises from your tongue, a maiden of desire. He found his pace inevitably, digits sinking along your weeping cunt before gracing your clit again.

This repetitive pattern made your thighs twitch, perspiration glittering along your brow as you brazenly loosened your betrothed’s underclothes. “I want to touch you,” You whispered near the shell of his ear. “I would not neglect you so.”

With a shiver of anticipation, those dilated, earthy hues of his silently pleaded with you to do whatever you wanted — Seven Hells, he would never belong to another. He was yours, imploding upon himself with your touch and tender gaze alone.

He nodded, pink and compliant, assisting you with maneuvering his breeches aside enough for you to free his cock. Jacaerys was embarrassed at how eager he’d become from this alone, length glistening with a sheen of precum.

Jacaerys did not allow his hand to still completely, lazily tracing his digits across your cunt, shivering whenever your soft palm encircled his length. The contact elicited a breathless groan from his mouth, unable to conceal the wave of excitement that flooded through him.

The tender clash of your lips sent a rush of warmth through you, coalescing between your thighs, heat stirred by the presence of Jacaerys’s fingers. Ensuring a sluggish pace, your hand stroked along your lover’s cock, thumb brushing over the head.

His stomach felt unnaturally tight, a coil of festering heat that slowly unraveled itself. “Gods, you are incredible.” Jacaerys huffed against your lips, voice nearly tapering off into a low whine when you began to kiss his jaw.

Pleasure was mutually exchanged, touching one another in-tandem, bodies beginning to glisten with a sheen of perspiration. It was your lips that lingered against his neck, showering his sweet skin in an untold amount of feather-light kisses.

Flushed with embarrassment, he felt the occasional jolt of his hips as he thrust into your hand, cock throbbing with an overwhelming bliss.

Jacaerys felt trapped within some lust-ridden haze, focus unsteady and sluggish. A soft, simpering moan resonated from you, drifting beside his ear, taking residence within his mind.

A cacophony of crass noises emanated throughout the walls of his chambers — breathy sighs intermingled with wanton moans, the exchange of flesh for fantasy. Soft lips peppered themselves along his freckled shoulder.

Never faltering in your ministrations, your hand continued to stroke along his cock, pace developing into something evocative. Jacaerys groaned, eyes half-lidded, pliant mouth parted as a string of satisfied sighs escaped him.

The simmering flame of desire burned brightly within the pit of your stomach, his digits continuing to stroke along your cunt. A cry of delight tore past your lips, nails lightly digging into his shoulder.

Embarrassment rippled through him whenever he happened to moan, flushed like a ripe peach. His ministrations were passionate, done in a flurry of desperation and excitement. “I … I —” Jacaerys groaned.

“Jace,” You panted, gooseflesh raking across your spine as you rocked your hips forward, seeking any shred of friction. “Gods, I need you.” The words nearly bit his heart into two, oozing crimson desire and want.

“You have me,” Jacaerys insisted through a strained sigh, a solemn promise through pleasured groans. His hips jolted again, cock desperately sliding against your palm, begging for anything you offered to him. “Seven Hells!” He groaned.

Pleasure mounted, swirling within him like a tumultuous wave, one that he seldom experienced. Digits began to still within you, losing their rhythm, abandoning it for something erratic. He chased after his encroaching release, coil beginning to unfurl within his stomach.

Another kiss invited his own demise as you sought sanctuary within his mouth, pliant lips tangling with one another. Your hand continued to drag itself along his cock, thumb idly flicking over the head of his length, bleeding warmth.

Your nerves burned with desire, every fiber of your being consumed by Jacaerys’s presence. You hadn’t felt such a kindly touch before — even your last spark did not bother to learn.

As Jace’s head began to tilt backward, his lips barely graced the curve of your jaw before he came, sudden and white-hot. His spend fell in hot tendrils against your palm, falling to his stomach in a glistening sheen.

He did not expect to come undone so swiftly, but it was the first time you had touched him in such an amorous manner. Half-lidded and dazed, Jacaerys attempted to recuperate, reaching to cup your cheek.

“Forgive me, I did not think to warn you,” He huffed, chest stinging with heat as he fought to breathe deeply again. “That was …” Words turned to ash upon his tongue, features painted with a delicate shade of crimson.

“Invigorated by the moment,” You mused, pressing a kiss against his cheek before crawling off of him, moving toward the basin of water on his vanity. “For one without experience, you do not act clueless.”

Retrieving a rag, you prepared to return to him — but he was at your heels. “Jacaerys?” The very picture of longing, looming beside you as his hand graced the curve of your breast, caressing towards your stomach.

“I want to taste you,” He rasped, his gaze practically begging for you to let him. Gently, he plucked the rag from your fingertips, cleaning himself off with haste. “Please.” Jacaerys groaned.

It was as if the fire within your belly burned thrice as hot, demanding to be extinguished with all its might. Your lips parted, fingers curling into the wood of his vanity as you pressed your thighs together.

Jacaerys’s lips descended upon yours in an ardor-laced frenzy, a groan stirring within his throat, hands immediately seizing your hips. Instinct drove him, desire renewed, as bright as your own flame.

You did not hesitate, reaching for him with a swiftness, digits tangling within his dark curls. He was a godly sight, laces of his trousers undone, visage flushed, earthy hues nearly black with desire. He hadn’t felt so strongly about someone before, anchored to you.

One could not mistake his passion for roughness — Jacaerys was gallant, a man of honor, and you suspected that being rough was not in his interest. Each clash of your lips left you reeling, dizzy with affection, flesh crawling with heat.

“I need you, so terribly,” Jacaerys whispered, filling you with a euphoric sentiment. Desperation crept into his voice, a resonance that was laced with yearning, a craving. “May I?” He was needlessly polite.

Wordlessly, your head bobbed up and down in a series of swift nods, teeth snagging on the inner skin of your cheek. He reciprocated with a kiss against your shoulder, and then to your collarbone, forging a path with his mouth.

Jacaerys only wished to map your flesh, to trace each curve as if you were a winding river — a river worth wading. His softened fingertips incessantly squeezed at your hips, gliding downward to seize handfuls of your haunches.

Each kiss brought forth a glow from you, interwoven with a myriad of throaty whines and whimpers. His confidence only blossomed from there, instilling a sense of pride within him as he kissed between your breasts.

“Jacaerys,” A sharp inhale ripped through your throat as he made his sluggish descent, savoring every inch of your body, skin like velvet beneath his tongue. “Do not torment me.” You hissed, aching for the embrace of his mouth.

It was you that dominated the current tension between you both, reaching for his crown of curls as you eased him downwards. Jacaerys obeyed, sinking onto his knees at your subtle instruction, kissing at your stomach.

He was at your mercy, peering up at you through thick lashes and flushed features, allowing you to take the initiative. You most certainly did, sluggishly guiding him toward your glistening cunt.

There was nothing he wanted more in this world than to oblige you, lips pressing all along your legs, mouth steadily finding the apex of your thighs. Jacaerys took care in spreading you apart, tongue raking hot embers across your cunt, your taste ambrosial.

A stirring fire of lust roused him, cock twitching within his breeches as he delved deeper into your core. His mouth was a thing of beauty, tongue sluggishly tasting you from your clit to your entrance.

Your chest heaved with wanton pants, hand forming a fist within his tresses, involuntarily tugging and pulling as you pleased. Jacaerys did not mind it at all, desperate to please you.

Tangled within his dark mane, you coaxed him closer, digits digging at the base of his skull. Jacaerys released a groan into your core, hands clamping down on your thighs with an ironclad grasp. Your nectar fell heavy upon his tongue, the sweetest of honey.

Jacaerys thoroughly delighted in the feeling of your hands within his hair, your hips occasionally stuttering and bucking forward, desperately seeking his mouth.

He was attentive, even for being a novice at the act itself, lapping at your cunt with a fervor. His plush lips drifted toward your clit, gauging your reaction to the sensation. You moaned, and that only seemed to encourage him.

With slow, eager laps of his tongue, Jacaerys made sure to savor you, letting it flick across your clit. The short, dizzying gasp that tore past your mouth spurred him on, as he pressed another string of kisses against your slit.

The continued sensation of your digits carding through his curls made him sigh with elation. “Jacaerys,” You whimpered, dizzying moans spurring him on. “Gods, you’re doing so well, so perfect.”

The lascivious praise he received made him groan into your cunt, desperate for you to shower him in compliments. He flourished with your sweet words, comely visage happily buried between your thighs.

His eagerness was palpable through each flick of his tongue, lost within the oasis between your legs. Your thighs burned, desire making you hazy, mind clouded with nothing but him.

A myriad of soft whimpers and whines escaped you, hand gingerly tugging on Jace’s hair as he showered your cunt in an alternation of steady licks to lingering ones.

The short, dizzying gasp that tore past your mouth spurred him on, as he pressed another string of kisses against your slit. It was overwhelming, the stimulation — you very nearly collapsed.

Instead, your euphoria manifested as your climax, sudden and without pause, a rush of heat that spilled forth. Jacaerys groaned, continuing to lap at your cunt as if he were drunk upon it, prompting you to peel him off of you.

The sight of your betrothed on his knees before you, panting with exhilaration, chin glistening with your slick — it was a sight that you wanted to see again and again.

“That was incredible,” Careening your digits through the top of his scalp, Jace moved into your embrace, angling his face to kiss your palm. “You did wonderful — are you certain that this is new for you?” You mused.

Jacaerys blushed, yet held firm on his honesty. “It isn’t new anymore,” He chimed, wishing that he could have you like this all the time. “I wish to please you again, if you’ll let me. Tomorrow, perhaps?”

With a cheshire smile, you coaxed him up from the ground, pressing a string of kisses all along his collarbone and neck. He seemed quite pleased with it, holding you closer.

“Tomorrow.” You sighed into his skin, wordlessly guiding him to bed. You wanted to lay with him, learn his heart, more than you already had. As you settled beside him, he appeared beyond elated. “But there is still tonight left.”

[mothiir]

not a request, more of a fun fact because i saw another sanguinius fan here yesterday and i can’t find her blog for the life of me.

supposedly birds, particularly male birds, associate their wings being stroked with sexual stimulation and will become very sexually frustrated if it’s not taken care of. Stroking their wings too often will also cause them to associate you with being a mate instead of a friend or companion, which causes them to be jealous and possessive over you.

do with this information what you will

So what I did with this is write some sanguinius being a wee bit feral but also being the noble boy we love. Also I need to start writing things that aren’t dubcon because why is this the healthiest relationship I’ve written so far

—

—

cw: slightly lewd, implications of violence

—

—

It probably starts off completely by chance: you’re cleaning, and Sanguinius swans into his quarters without noticing you. Even the noblest of the Emperor’s sons will sometimes fail to acknowledge the staff, especially when he is distracted -- and oh, is the poor thing distracted. He’s just had to sit through a four hour meeting -- hosted by Roboute, with the Lion in attendance, and he has been zigzagging between acute boredom and blinding frustration -- and, on top of all of that, he is moulting. He claws his robe off his body, stretching his wings out to their full span. He makes a primal sound of pure satisfaction, contorting his sleek golden body to dig his fingers into his tender flesh, trying to unroot the snarls of not-quite loose feathers. Some come free easily; others snag. He wishes he was in Bhaal, where he could stretch himself out in the hot dry dust, and squirm back and forth, letting the acrid soil scratch the most stubborn of itches. Alas, there is no such amenity here, only -- 

It’s then he notices you, cloth in hand, frozen. At his gaze, you immediately drop to your knees, touch your forehead to the floor. 

“My lord Primarch -- forgive me --”

“Forgive you for what?” he says, lightly. “There is nothing to forgive; you are doing your duty. You are excused -- there is plenty aboard to be cleaned.”

You stand somewhat shakily, twisting the cloth between your hands. “Yes my lord. Of course my lord. It is just --”

You know a little about birds -- enough to recognise the signs of a highly uncomfortable moult. And Sanguinius is not a bird but the greatest man you have ever known, and yet…and yet you cannot help yourself. 

“--I wonder if I could be of assistance? With the uh -- with the pin feathers. The ones that aren’t open, I can see a few -- “

You make an aborted little gesture: fingers closing, as if around an invisible reed, pinching slightly, dragging up. Precisely the way he sees to his own pin feathers, letting the keratin sheathe surrounding them crumble against his grip, freeing the filament within. 

“My mother keeps birds,” you offer, as an explanation, then flush. “Not that you are one, my lord -- not --”

He chuckles at your unease, and settles himself down on his bed, patting the red silk quilt beside him. 

“Come. Assist me, if you are so keen.”

Many quail at the sight of him -- despite what Horus thinks, Sanguinius is more revered than beloved, and the difference between the two is stark -- but you do not. You approach him with downturned eyes, smelling faintly of fear, but you still approach him. 

Your hands are small and swift, deftly opening up the feathers in need of help, leaving the ones not yet ready. You work for hours, until your hands must be cramping from effort, but you do not quibble or complain. You smooth his primaries, straighten them in line with each other; you tug free lumps of down with sharp efficient gestures. Slowly, the itching fades, and with it the frustration. Before Sanguinius quite knows what he is doing, he has sprawled himself back onto the mattress, pulling you with him. You use the new angle to your advantage, reaching under his flank to work at the feathers closest to his wingjoints. 

“There,” you say, just as he feels about ready to drift off. His eyes are half-lidded, and a slight smile curves his lips. “That looks…better. You’re not done moulting yet, but that’s what I can do for now.”

“You’ll return tomorrow,” he says, a request and a command and a question all at once. Your cheeks are wonderfully pink as you nod. He ponders briefly what all that delicious blood would taste like, spilling down his throat, and then shoves the thought to the side. He will not ruin your helpfulness with his hunger. 

The next night, you perform the same job, and the night after that, and the night after that. His moult ends, but he thinks it best that you keep returning: caring for his wings is an important duty, after all, and you are so very good at it. So eager to please.

(A voice that sounds distressingly like Konrad’s says what else would she do to please you, golden one? -- but he ignores that, for he must.)

The problem becomes apparent not during those long late nights as you preen him while he tries to think of anything but how sweet your blood would taste, but in the middle of his ship. He has just led his sons to an astounding victory, coming to the aid of a local governor against a fleet of xenos raiders, and -- as is tradition -- they are celebrating, hosting the Imperium’s great and good aboard the Red Tear. The ballroom they gather in is built to accommodate a Primarch, with a huge arched ceiling, draped with scarlet silk. The walls are festooned with artwork of immense beauty, most painted by the Blood Angels themselves: scenes of battles hard won, golden cities on green hills, birds flying free over great glittering lakes. Sanguinius makes a speech, praising the well-fought battle of the planetary defense force against the raiders -- and meaning every word -- and then retires to a corner to sip his wine and try to relax. He cannot walk amongst the delegates without people dropping to their knees in supplication, so he finds that becoming part of the furniture is the best approach for a restful party for all.

That is when he sees you. You’re wearing the same basic formal outfit all of the serfs wear -- fine scarlet linen, embroidered with gold -- but you’ve altered the wide-legged trousers into a skirt, which swishes around your ankles as you move; a slit halfway up your thigh gives him a tantalizing glimpse of pale flesh, and his mouth goes dry. 

Deep in conversation with one of the proud young soldiers, you’re completely oblivious to Sanguinius’s hungry gaze. At least -- he hopes you is, because you laugh at something your companion says and then he touches your shoulder.

Before he can control himself, Sanguinius crosses the ballroom, picks up the young human and rips him in two, showering you both with a fountain of gore. Your scream stills in your throat, eyes bugging with terror, as he gathers you close, tongue running along your pulsing jugular, claws biting into your flesh as he shreds your garment, intent on claiming you then and there, his mate, his woman, his --

That, of course, is not what happens. What actually happens is that Sanguinius stalks towards you, a beatific smile pasted over his face, and the poor young man immediately steps backwards; his logical mind sees the Primarch, and is awestruck; but his primal lizard brain screams this is a predator you have to run. 

“I will have to steal you away, if you don’t mind,” he says, and of course you do not mind -- because you are his. His woman. His mate. As he steers you out of the ballroom, you confide in a low voice:

“Thank you. He was lovely, but just a little too eager. I think he was all of seventeen!”

Sanguinius knows he should feel ashamed that he had come this close to gutting a child-soldier who had the misfortune of making you laugh, but he doesn’t. He feels a little guilty at his lack of guilt, but that is it. If he had slain the boy it would have been his right, as your lord and master --

No. No. That is not him; that is not how he acts, nor how he behaves. Those impulses come to him for he is a warhawk and a warrior, but he does not act on them because he is not a monster. 

“These parties do get tiresome,” he says, ushering you ahead of him. “I am glad I have you to keep me company while we avoid them.”

You end up back in his bedroom, combing your fingers through his feathers. He melts under your touch, every sinew in his back starting to relax. Soon -- hopefully soon -- he will have you squirming and mewling under him, your legs spread eagerly for him, your tight little body welcoming him deep inside. Soon. When he is sure that you are saying yes because you want to, not because the overwhelming force of his desire is warping your own feelings. When he can trust himself not to hurt you anymore than you want to be hurt. 

Sanguinius can hold tight to his self control for that. For your sake. For his. 

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Give me headcanons for the sillies 🔫🔫

you got it! 🥰

The kids raise quail! Though, Perrine does most of the work for them, just because she likes being around them. They’re strictly off limits from slaughtering…for the most part.

There was a harsh winter, when food was short, that Perrine had to kill a few to feed the group.

It…wasn’t fun.

BUT ANYWAY!

Perrine sings to the quails when she’s alone.

Everyone has their own chores to keep the house together, something that was forced by Perrine.

Clémentine loves to make soap and candles!

Kingsley has the most chicken scratch handwriting ever. It’s borderline unintelligible.

Cole is so unathletic. They suck as tag. Can’t run ten feet without having an asthma attack.

Clémentine is surprisingly really strong and can pick up everyone in the group.

The kids were once in the woods, and they found a fawn in the grass. The others began to coo over it, while Perrine told them to keep their distance, just in case. And her warnings were correct when they got charged at by a very protective mama deer.

Perrine is really good at mimicking bird calls.

Perrine really likes snakes and spiders. Cole, on the other hand, does not.

Cole screams like a banshee at the sight of a spider and begs the others to kill it. Clémentine and Perrine are the ones who set the spider free outside.

Also Cole is afraid of moths.

Perrine is touch-starved.

[omg-snakes]

Ooo I have a question

Do you have any (fun!) enrichment ideas for corn snakes

OMG yes there are so so so so many ways to enrich a corn snake!

They're curious and enjoy climbing, exploring, and digging, though each snake will have their own individual preferences, so try a few things and see what gets your snake moving the most and then tailor future offerings towards what they seem to react most positively towards.

Make sure all plant-based enrichment is safe for reptiles and fertilizer and pesticide-free!

In-cage:

Brown lunch bag, left open on its side, stuffed with hay, cut grass, leaf litter, a pinch of fresh herbs, flowers, etc.

Wiffle ball with a pinch of herbs, clean feathers, or used rodent bedding wrapped in a paper towel stuffed inside (if you ask a pet store employee nicely they'll usually give you a little bit of bedding from a rodent or bird cage)

Tennis ball rolled in something a little stinky (see wiffle ball above)

Climbing branches with something a little stinky hung on

Deep tray of dirt and sphagnum moss for digging in

A live plant in clean dirt (to dig up, sit on, and probably ruin)

Pie plate of sprouted grass seed

A tee shirt or sock you've worn

Bit of shed from another healthy snake

Change your cage layout, swap hides

Switch bedding or offer a dig box of different bedding

Hide f/t food items in a lunch bag or drag it around a bit to have your snake "hunt" their meal

Offer different food items, as long as they're appropriately sized! Quail chicks or eggs, Reptilinks, etc.

Out of cage:

Storage tote full of dirt/leaf litter for Serious Digging

Ye olde Laundry Pile (only if it's not super gross tho)

Outdoors adventures if you feel safe with your snake and have good control over them

Peg board for climbing

Stairs if you live in a two-story

Walk around with your snake and let them sniff things they seem interested in!

This is just scratching the surface of what's possible. As long as your snake is safe and you're both having a good time, feel free to experiment with different enrichment opportunities!

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Transcending Time || CL16

Charles Leclerc x princess!reader Summary: Destined to be together, you and Charles’ love transcends time to find one another again and finally get the future you never had - the one with a happy ending. Warnings: 18+ only, death (see Trigger Warning in hashtags), angst, fluff. WC: 3.1k F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three

Monaco, 1662 “One day, princess, we will board a ship and find a place of our own somewhere far away,” Charles promised as he watched the sails on the horizon, his chin resting on your shoulder as you sat between his legs. In his arms was the one place you could be yourself, not the royal that was put on parade to the public. In his arms you could dream of a world where you could love him freely.

But for now you had to hide, keeping your rendezvous a secret and stealing the moments whenever you could.

You had fallen for Charles the moment you saw him stumbling with his arms full of ledgers, the papers catching the breeze that had rolled into the mariner and raining down on your head as you giggled. He hadn’t even looked up before insulting you for your rudeness and suggesting you get down on the ground and help him retrieve his father’s work as penance.

Your next laugh was hardly the ladylike sound expected of you and when he looked up his green eyes had widened in realisation.

“My apologies, princess, please forgive me,” he had pleaded as he bowed his head muttering, “I am stupid. I am stupid.”

“Blaireau?” you repeated the word he had used and his cheeks reddened. “You called me a badger?”

He scratched the back of his neck nervously and gave the smallest shake of his head. “Not quite, princess.”

That was the first of many insults he taught you since slang was not something your governess had approved of in your schooling. He had taught you a good deal about life outside the palace, but his greatest lesson had been how to love. Love had been foreign from your life until he had stumbled into it and stolen your heart, giving you his in return.

Charles kissed your shoulder and a smile teased your lips and you leaned back into his embrace. “Would life as a clerk’s wife suffice her royal highness?”

“You could shovel manure from the stables for all I care, so long as I am your wife,” you said as you turned in his arms and pushed him onto his back. “Where you go, I go.”

He looked up at you bathed in the warm afternoon sun and adoration filled the smile he saved just for you, the one that brought out the dimples in his cheeks. “One day, princess.”

“Please, mama, I have never once asked you for anything,” you begged as you grabbed her hand over the table, but the former Crown Princess of Monaco looked away with a shake of her head and slipped her hand  from your grasp. Desperation grew as you looked to your brother, the Crown Prince of Monaco since your father passed earlier that year, sitting at the head seat. “Louis, don’t do this, please, I love him.”

“That is why I must, dear sister,” Louis uttered as he took a sip of his wine and returned to cutting his roast quail. “You were born to marry a prince, not the son of a clerk.”

You slammed your hands on the table as you rose to your feet. “I was born to love Charles, and I will die loving him too.”

Louis growled and his cutlery clattered as he tossed them on his plate, his short temper snapping. “Charles will hang on the morrow and that is final. There will be no more traipsing to the marketplace, there will be no more fraternising with those filthy commoners you are so fond of, or you will meet the same fate.”

Your chest puffed with the deep breath you took and when you exhaled a sense of calm settled in your soul. With quiet conviction you looked Louis in the eyes, and he frowned as he saw the fight leave your eyes. “I already have.”

You left the dining hall in a trance, your feet carrying you down the staircase and out of the front doors that the footmen opened at your approach. 

Heads turned as you left the palace alone, a princess did not leave unaccompanied. Ladies stared as you grabbed the layers of skirts and lifted them off the dirty streets, a princess did not show her stockings. People gasped in shock as you shook your tiara from your head and broke into a run, never looking back. 

His figure was hidden in the shadows as he lay on the rotten hay that had been dumped in the corner. The dank scents of the prison curdled the contents of your stomach and you pressed your wrist to your nose, inhaling the delicate perfume that had been dabbed there as you had been dressed for the disastrous dinner. 

“Charles.”

His spine stiffened at the soft sound of your voice before he rolled over and sat up slowly. The moonlight filtering in through the small window illuminated the bruises that turned his sun kissed skin purple and sealed one eye shut completely.

“Princess,” he whispered in reverence as he surged forward, only to be thrown to the stone floor when the chain cuffed to his ankle snapped taut from where it was anchored to the wall. 

“Charles!” You reached through the metal bars but your fingers could only brush his. “I’m here. Where you go, I go.”

He shook his head as he pulled himself up and stretched his leg so he could be as close as possible to you. “Not this time, my love.”

“Yes, dammit, every time!” you exclaimed as you pressed your head to the cold iron bars and choked on the sob that escaped. “I’ll not live in a world without you in it, Charles.”

“You have to.” His voice was hoarse from days without water and you wished you had thought to bring him some. “I’ll never find peace otherwise. I have to know you lived, and that you found happiness again, I know you can do it.”

“I can’t, I’m sorry, I can’t. You make me happy, Charles, only you.” You pulled yourself back to your feet and called to the guard stationed at the end of the hall. “Open the gate.”

“He’s been imprisoned at your brother’s order, your highness, I can’t let him go.”

You grabbed the ring of keys hanging from his hip and thrust it against his chest. “Louis est un blaireau. Lock me inside.”

The guard blanched as you used the commoners tongue to call the Crown Prince an asshole before quickly recovering and unlocking the gate. “Let me know when you are ready to leave, your highness.” The metal gate grated sharply as it closed behind you, the keys jangling when he turned them and locked you inside. 

You would never be ready.

A chill unlike any you had felt before seeped into your bones as you sat between Charles’ legs, his arms trying to share the only warmth he had to offer as they held you tight. There were no hot coals to warm the air or any comforts you were used to in the palace but you wouldn’t have traded them if it meant leaving his embrace. 

You couldn’t even hazard a guess as to how far it was to dawn, but the light of the moon had faded as it passed the window and darkness shrouded the room. 

Charles’ breathing was laboured in your ear and you silently cursed your brother for the beating he had ordered. All he had ever done was love you and for that he would pay the ultimate price, because you were a princess. 

“My governess took me to the theatre once,” you murmured quietly. The gift had been a farewell present when you came of age and her services were no longer required, it had been mere weeks before you met Charles. “I cannot even remember the name of the play now but it was a lovers' tragedy, forbidden from seeing each other. I laughed at the preposterous idea that two people would rather die than live without the other.” 

You laughed bitterly at the memory of your younger self and the naivety the sheltered girl had held before sighing. “If I were low born, how things would be different.”

“If I were a prince, how things would be different,” Charles chuckled in your ear. “But we are not, my love. Perhaps in another life we will find one another again and have the time we are owed.”

Watery light crept along the walls as dawn broke the horizon. “I’ll hold that thought in my heart.”

An escort of guards arrived not long after sunrise and you turned to Charles, memorising the sharp line of his jaw and how it was shaped to fit your hands. You combed his dark hair back from his face and pressed your forehead to his as you promised you would be with him to the end. 

“Yes, Charles,” you growled as he shook his head. “My mind is made up and nothing can change it.” You took his hand and placed it over your heart. “This only beats for you.”

His tears mixed with yours as he pulled you close one last time and surrendered himself to the fate your kiss had brought. “I love you, princess,” he whispered against your lips and a soft shudder rocked your body as you feared regret would lace those words but there was only warmth in his tone. “That will never change, I swear on my life.”

The guards had pulled you apart and dragged Charles away, using their bodies as a wall to keep you from following. “Prince Louis has forbidden your presence in the square.”

Forbidden, there was that word again. 

“Then I shall take my leave.” You turned your back and made your way to the stairs in the opposite direction, the guards remaining in position in case you should return. Up and up, higher and higher you climbed the worn steps, ignoring the shouts of the prisoners you passed along the way. 

Your lungs burned when you finally reached the top and stepped out into the fresh air, the salt of the seabreeze erasing the damp scent that clung to everything inside. Far below you could see your brother sitting upon a stage opposite the gallows, a look of boredom on his face until the guards appeared with Charles between them. 

“For crimes against the Crown, Charles, Notary at Hervé & Sons…”

The wind stole the heralder’s words away as he condemned Charles for falling in love, information that would die with him at your brother's behest. No one could ever know that a commoner bedded a princess and that the crime against the crown they spoke of was actually holy matrimony. 

The air left your lungs as the thick rope noose was thrown over Charles’ head and you took a step forward, your bare feet no longer feeling the cold stones as your toes hung over the precipice of the prison. 

Charles looked around for you as the hangman reached for the trapdoor release and he spotted you as the sun crested the horizon and warmed your back in its glow. 

“Where you go, I go,” you promised. 

Just like you had the first day you met him, you fell.

Monaco, 2023 “She’s zoned out again,” Louis sighed as he snapped his fingers in front of your face. “Hello? The drivers will be here any moment so you need to focus.”

For as long as you could remember you had these episodes, entire days were wasted away as you sat on the bay window of your room overlooking the mariner. It was like you were a prisoner in your own mind, lost and wandering in search of something you couldn’t find. 

“Why must I be here?” you asked as you pushed your brother’s hand away from your face. “You watch the sport, not me.”

“It is tradition, dear sister,” he muttered as he fixed his tie. “There have always been two of us to welcome them to our beautiful home and with father no longer here that responsibility falls on you. So smile for the cameras, and whatever you do, don’t zone out.”

The doors to the palace opened and the 20 guests filed in pairs but movement at your side drew your attention away. Louis had bounced on the balls of his feet and you rolled your eyes at his excitement.

“Mother will be displeased,” you tutted under your breath. “The crown prince does not get excited, the crown prince is composed at all times.”

“This isn’t the dark ages,” he shot back before peering out the corner of his eyes. “You sound just like her.”

“Asshole, I do not!” Your elbow took a shot at his ribs but he just managed to deflect it away with his arm and a cocky snicker. “You’re going to pay for saying that.”

A warm laugh filled the air and your heart skipped a beat, the sense of familiarity stealing your focus from Louis. You found yourself watching the water once more through the open door, the ships sailing by on the breeze and longing tugged at you to follow.

“This here is our very own Monégasque, he’s even garnered the title of the People’s Prince of Monaco.”

Only one word caught your attention and you broke away from the sight outside to see who it was Louis was introducing you to. “Prince?”

“People’s Prince,” Louis clarified with a chuckle. “Charles Leclerc.”

“Leclerc? That is an old family name,” you murmured as it tugged at the recesses of your memory but you couldn’t remember why. You peered up at the man to find two striking green eyes staring back from a handsome face. “Has your family always been in Monaco?”

“Yes, as far as I know, princess,” he said politely as he gave a little bow. “How about you?” A laugh trickled down the line behind him and his cheeks burned red as he muttered, “I am stupid. I am stupid.”

“As far as I know, prince,” you teased gently. 

“Shall I call a doctor?” Louis whispered as the Monegasque moved on and a Frenchman replaced him. “That was an actual smile.”

“Shut up, before you need to call one to fix your nose,” you shot back with a scowl.

“There she is,” he chuckled. “All is right in the world once more.”

“I’m done here.” The dress was suddenly too restricting and you stepped back from the man whose name you hadn’t caught, slipping away from the arm Louis tried to loop through yours to hold you still. 

You heard Louis’ sigh as you disappeared behind the pillars and knew you would be due a lecture when they left. “Excuse her, she doesn’t do well with engagements.”

They nodded understandably and one commented that it must have been why you were rarely seen in public. No one would know it was because of the episodes or how they couldn’t trust your behaviour in front of the cameras. You were too erratic and unpredictable. One moment you could be the perfect princess your mother had hoped for and the next you felt like the world deserved to burn and you were ready to light it up.

Try as your mother might, she had yet to find anyone who could fix you. From psychiatrists to hypnotists, she had hired them all but no amount of medication and therapy had helped.

The moment you were free of the room you kicked off your heels and grabbed the skirt of your dress before breaking into a run. There was something freeing about going fast and it helped to draw air into your lungs when you felt as if you were slowly suffocating.

You lost yourself to the endless halls that navigated the enormous palace, direction not mattering as you let the fates decide where you ended up. You didn’t even notice that your feet had brought you in a full circle back towards the front entrance until the door to mens bathroom opened and someone stepped out, his head down as he focused on sliding a ring onto his finger.

You were on a collision course and dropped the material of your skirt from your hands to try catch yourself but all you did was get your feet tangled before crashing into him. You both went tumbling to the polished floor and a hiss of pain erupted as your ankle twisted at an odd angle.

“Son of a bitch,” you groaned and the man sat up with a pat of his body to check he was in one piece before he looked at you and those green eyes widened.

“Princess? What…oh my god! Are you alright?” Charles scrambled across the space and carefully lifted your foot off the floor, the movement making your face pinch in pain.

“Ow, I think it’s broken.”

“I don’t think it’s broken, but it might be sore for a few days.” He looked up and down the empty hall. “Should I go get help?”

“No, no doctors. Just help me to stand up, please,” you asked as you placed your hands on his shoulders and his hands fell to your waist, the warmth of his palms reaching your skin through the material.

“What were you running from?”

“Life?” You looked down the long hall lined with portraits of your ancestors, their beady eyes staring back with judgement. “It’s so slow here, I just need to go fast sometimes, or I’ll go crazy. That probably sounds stupid.”

“No,” he chuckled as he shook his head. “That makes sense to me. Can you try walking on it?”

“Fuck,” you grunted as you put weight on the joint. “No, not really.” You nearly fell again as you tried to balance on one foot but Charles’ hands stabilised you before that happened.

“Okay, uh, I’m not going to get the guillotine for touching you, right, princess?” he joked nervously as he curled his arm around your waist and took most of your weight.

You smiled weakly as his words started an ache in your chest you couldn’t explain. “Not this century at least.”

“That’s good to know,” he said with a flirty grin and suddenly the pain was gone. “Come to think of it, if you want to go fast I could take you for a lap of the circuit. It’s got to be safer than these dangerous halls.”

“So hazardous, it’s a miracle I survived this long.” You giggled at the thought, the sound absolutely foreign to your own ears, and once you started you couldn’t stop.

His lips parted with a wide smile as he listened to your laugh and he nodded to himself. “It’s settled then, princess.”

You rolled your eyes at the title you had never wanted but somehow on his lips it sounded sweet. “I do have a name, prince.”

“I know,” he winked. “Come on, princess.”

“I don’t exactly have a choice, do I?” You looked at your injured foot hovering safely off the ground. “Where you go, I go.”

Click here for part two.

[juceynightmare]

dating 101 (18+) part 22 - cody rhodes x reader

my masterlist

dating 101 (18+) masterlist

pairing(s): cody rhodes x fem!reader, roman reigns x fem!reader

warning(s): swearing, knifeplay, blood kink, breeding kink, daddy kink, cody has a filthy mouth, choking, slapping, crying during sex, reader squirts, dom!cody, sub!reader, oral sex (m and f receiving), multiple (forced) orgasms, creampie, possessive!cody, cody has a big dick

genre(s): college!au, slow burn, 5.8k words of pure SMUT

|| previous part || next part ||

she hadn’t even been able to open her own door before it was thrown open and she was pulled in. y/n didn’t have enough time to process that she was being pushed back against the door and that cody had taken his karambit from her before she felt the cold metal pressed against her throat. she stared up at the man, her eyes wide and her breath stuck in her throat. she was frozen in place, scared that if she made any movement that the blade would dig into her skin, but god did that thought turn her on even more.

“i was right about how much more beautiful this knife would look pressed against your throat.” cody murmured, tilting his hand upwards and causing the curve of the blade to press further into her throat, but still not enough to scratch her skin. “but it still doesn’t compare to your beauty, even with the fear in your eyes.” he continued, his free hand resting against her hip as he pressed himself against her.

y/n gasped as cody dragged the blade down along her throat, careful not to breach her skin. “cody…” she breathed out, feeling the blade snag on to the collar of her shirt.

“you care about this shirt?” cody asked, watching y/n shake her head. he held her in place as he dragged the blade through the shirt and cut it open. cody rested his hand on her waist afterwards, leaning in and capturing her lips in a heated kiss.

before y/n could even react to the kiss, cody was already pulling away with a grimace on his face.

“we’ll have to wash that taste from your mouth.” he mumbled, bringing his free hand to the back of her head and tangling his fingers into her hair. he grazed the knife against her lower stomach, watching the way she shivered from the cool metal against her skin. cody smiled at her reaction, dragging the blade of the knife upwards along the center of her upper body. he pressed the tip of the blade against the bottom of her chin, forcing her to tilt her head upwards. “safe word?” cody asked.

y/n thought about it for a moment, trying not to be too distracted by the cool metal that was threatening to dig into her flesh or the way cody was staring at her like she was fresh prey for him. “quail.” she said, causing cody to cock his eyebrow in a silent question, although he did not verbally express it. instead, cody simply nodded his head and hummed in acknowledgement, before pulling the blade back from her chin.

suddenly, y/n was being pushed down to her knees with cody’s hand still gripping her hair tightly. he pulled her hair back, making her tilt her head upwards before letting go of her hair. “open your mouth and stick your tongue out.” he ordered, pulling his boxers down just enough to let his length spring free of its restraints. he wrapped his hand around his length, pumping himself as y/n opened her mouth and stuck her tongue out obediently. “good girl.” cody praised, slapping his heavy length against y/n’s tongue.

suddenly, cody thrusted his length into the girl’s mouth, bracing himself on the door so he could press forward all the way until the entirety of his length was down her throat and the back of her head was pressed against the door. he grunted, giving her no time to adjust before he was roughly fucking into her mouth, enjoying the way the wet sounds of her mouth and gagging noises filled the room.

he stared down at her, already finding her staring up at him with tear-filled eyes. “so pretty with your mouth full of cock.” cody mused, reaching down to tuck her hair behind her ears while still thrusting in her mouth. “i bet if i took any longer to shower, randy would be in my position. wouldn’t he, lovely?” he spoke, his tone turning venomous at the mention of randy and the way cody had used randy’s newfound nickname for y/n had sounded so devilish that y/n could feel a pool of arousal begin to soak her panties.

he pulled out of her mouth, allowing her space to breathe and catch her breath and smiling at the way her breathing sounded so labored and ruined. he pushed himself off of the door, stepping back. “jerk me off.” he ordered. y/n immediately reached up at his command, wrapping her hand around his length and pumping him until she found a pace that had cody grunting above her.

she leaned forward, her breathing finally evened out, and she began to lick at cody’s head while still pumping his length, causing him to throw his head back in pleasure. “fuck, that feels good, princess.” cody praised, unconsciously bucking his hips up into her hand and mouth. “i had something else in mind to wash him from your mouth, though.” he chuckled, pulling his hips back to remove himself from her grip and mouth.

she looked up at cody confused, wondering what cody had meant by his words. cody held his free hand out for her, and she reached up to place her hand in his. cody turned her hand over, so her palm was facing up, and placed the handle of the knife in her hand. he wrapped her fingers around the handle, realizing that the girl was too much in shock and guided her to press the blade against the skin of his lower abdomen. “carve yourself into me.” cody whispered, watching the way y/n’s eyes had widened and her gaze flickered between cody’s gaze and where the blade was pressing into cody’s skin.

“are you sure? you don’t have to just because you’re going to do the same to me later.” she replied, not wanting cody to feel pressured.

cody squeezed her hand gently, and applied just enough pressure for the blade to breach his skin. “use me. cut me. brand me. i want to bleed for you. i’m all yours, y/n.” he breathed out, his tone so tender that it had y/n’s head reeling. suddenly, the world seemed to have started spinning faster on its axis as the implication of cody being hers had hit her. y/n focused her gaze on where cody’s blood had started to trickle down along his skin.

she leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to cody’s lower stomach and whispering against his skin, “all mine.” her words had sent shivers down cody’s spine. she sat back on her knees and began to drag the blade along his skin, hearing him hiss from the sensation of being cut into. he had let go of her hand, and was now resting his hand behind her head, his gaze fixed on where y/n was carving her initials into his skin.

although she had never once held a blade like this to another person, y/n made sure that she wasn’t cutting deep into cody. she breached his skin just enough for him to bleed, and probably enough to leave her initials scarred for at least a couple weeks. when she was done, she pulled the blade back, and admired the way cody’s blood had beaded up along the cuts that spelled out her initials right in the center of his lower abdomen.

cody took the knife from her, clutching it in his hand tightly as he focused on the way his stomach had burned from the cuts, his heart reeling in h is chest at the fact that y/n had branded him. with his hand that was resting against the back of her head, he gently pushed her towards his lower stomach, watching the way she instinctively ran her tongue along the cuts. the metallic taste of cody’s blood instantly hitting her tongue as she collected his blood. she looked up at cody, her tongue still out so he could see the blood that had painted her tongue.

his length twitched at the sight, and before y/n could close her mouth, cody reached down and grabbed her chin to keep her mouth open. he lined his length up with her mouth, letting the head rest against her tongue and smearing the blood against her tongue with his tip. “look at how pathetic you are. licking up my fucking blood without me asking and just accepting my cock in your mouth.” he grunted, moving his hand from her chin to the back of her head and slowly pushing her head forward onto his length. he gasped at the feeling of her mouth enveloping his length, letting her take control and set the pace as she bobbed her head along the length of his cock.

tears welled in her eyes with every time cody’s cock slid down her throat, gagging with every intrusion. the taste of cody’s blood traveled down her mouth to her throat, and everytime y/n would take cody’s entire length in her mouth, the stray blood that had began to roll down his lower stomach and on to his pelvis would smear over her cheeks and nose.

it was embarrassing how fast cody was reaching his high, but the sight of y/n with his blood beginning to smear on to her face and the way y/n had increased the pace she was bobbing her head along his length left cody weak in the knees. it was when y/n brought her hand up to squeeze cody’s balls that cody’s hips began to thrust into her mouth sporadically. breathy moans fell from his lips as he tangled his fist into her hair and held her in place so he could thrust into his mouth.

cody pulled out just enough so that his tip was resting flat against her tongue and he came with a loud groan. his cum painted her tongue, shooting down into her mouth, and cody marveled at the sight of her red stained tongue being covered in his cum. he untangled his fist from her hair and wrapped his hand around his length, pumping himself before pulling back completely. he watched y/n close her mouth and swallow, a satisfied smile on both of their faces. just as he was about to praise the girl, he was caught off guard by the feeling of her tongue against his lower stomach, licking at the blood that had began to dry up and clean up his cuts.

y/n smiled up at cody as she stood back up, cody’s hands instantly finding her waist to support her. “hi cody.” she greeted innocently once she steadied herself on her feet, looking up at cody and smiling widely as if she hadn’t just swallowed a mixture of the man’s cum and blood.

he laughed softly, feeling her hands press against his lower stomach and her fingers drag along his burning skin. “hi honey.” he whispered, the new pet name sending y/n’s stomach in a flurry. before she could react, cody was already pressing his lips against hers and kissing her feverishly.

she moaned into the kiss as cody walked them over to the bed. frenzied hands were pulling at her torn clothing, pulling them all off and leaving y/n bare until she was finally pushed back into the mattress. along the way, cody’s boxers had joined her clothes in a pile on the floor. her chest rose and fell with each heavy breath that left her, and she propped herself up on her forearms before being stopped by the feeling of the the cool metal of cody’s karambit pressed against her throat.

he pushed her back down on to the mattress by gently pushing forward with the knife, grinning at her compliance. he used his free hand to guide her to wrap her legs around his waist and pulled her back so that only her upper body was resting on the bed. cody dragged the knife down her neck, careful not to scratch her, and pressed the cool blade against her collarbone. he made his first cut there, quick and just enough to have y/n gasping at the sensation. he leaned forward, his hand holding the blade resting against her hip while his free hand grabbed her breast and kneaded the flesh. he pressed his lips to the cut once blood began to bead on the surface, licking and sucking on the cut as the metallic taste of her blood filled his mouth. he pressed his hips forward against hers, rolling his cock against her pussy and spreading her arousal over him.

she raised her hands up, but before she could wrap them around cody’s neck, cody had grabbed her wrists and pinned her arms back to her side. “you can pull my hair all you want later, but not now. i won’t be able to hold back if you do it now.” he murmured against her skin, letting go of her wrists and pulling away from her collarbone. he admired the hickey he had sucked into her skin, watching the way blood continued to bead against the surface before it began to slowly trickle down.

he dragged the blade along her breasts gently, running the metal over her nipples before dragging them down lower to her stomach. “no going back after this, y/n. you’re going to have me engraved in you for weeks at the very least.” he warned her, his eyes trained on her expression.

without a second thought, y/n breathed out, “you’re mine just as much as i’m yours, cody.” her words had flipped a switch in cody’s mind, and he pressed the knife into her hip.

her eyes squeezed shut the moment cody cut into her skin, focusing on the feeling of cody’s comforting hand that had found hers and laced their fingers together. but the stinging sensation of cody’s blade had y/n gasping and arching her back off of the bed.

he let go of her hand and pushed her back down on the bed, keeping his hand pressed against her lower stomach to hold her in place as he continued to carefully carve his initials into her hip. “i feel you getting wetter just from me cutting into you. you sick freak, you like it when i cut myself into you?” he questioned, bucking his hips against her pussy teasingly and drawing out a moan from her throat.

when he finished his initials, cody smeared her blood over her hip with his knuckles, grinning the at the sight of her blood smearing across both of their bodies. he moved the blade to the other side of her lower stomach, quickly cutting a number of x’s across her lower stomach and watching the way she writhed under his touch and the blade. cody pulled his hips back, guiding her to unwrap her legs from around his waist so that he could bend down and run his tongue along her lower stomach, collecting her blood on his tongue.

she couldn’t stop herself from reaching out and grabbing at cody’s hair, the soothing feeling of his tongue across the burning cuts had y/n bucking her hips up into the air helplessly. cody couldn’t describe the primal feeling he felt in that moment, but every blood cell in his body was telling him to fuck y/n until she was begging him to stop.

y/n watched as cody opened his eyes to meet her gaze while still lapping away at her cuts. and suddenly, cody was wrapping her legs around his waist and leaning up to meet her face to face with her blood still on his lips and slightly smeared on his chin. she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss, just as cody pushed his cock into her, and she arched her back off of the mattress at the feeling of the intrusion without any proper foreplay to stretch her beforehand.

she whimpered into the kiss, tasting herself on cody’s tongue as he bottomed out inside her. cody pulled away from the kiss, and pushed himself back up, grinning at the clear pain and discomfort on y/n’s face. “what’s wrong, honey? feel like you’re losing your virginity again? cry harder, whore. i know you can take my cock.” he sneered, pulling his hips back until just the head was left in her before roughly ramming back inside her and causing her to scream. she had pushed herself up on her forearms when cody thrusted back in, her eyebrows furrowed together and tears welling in her eyes.

the way cody had mocked her had only made y/n more aroused, and she felt embarrassed by the fact. she was pushed back against the mattress by cody, who had held the blade back up to her throat and commanded her with only a look.

“little girl, lay there and take my cock.” cody growled, repeating the motion over and over again and increasing in intensity and speed over time. he pushed the karambit against her neck, breathy moans falling from his lips at the way her pussy clenched around his length so deliciously. endless moans and whines were drawn out of y/n, the feeling of cody so deep inside her without preparation had made the stretch around his cock feel impossibly bigger than usual, and cody was already a blessed man in that department.

it was as if cody was splitting her on his cock for the first time again, and y/n’s head filled with thoughts of cody, cody, cody as he continuously pounded into her.

“daddy! it feels so good, daddy!” she cried out, her hands reaching out to rest against his shoulders as he fucked her. she gasped, a stinging sensation spreading through her neck, right against where cody was holding the blade to her neck. he hadn’t cut her, but it was enough of a reminder for y/n to stay still.

“yeah? you want to make me a daddy, princess?” cody questioned, his hooded gaze fixed on y/n’s tear-filled ones. “keep fucking calling me daddy like that and i’ll fuck a baby into you. fill you over, and over again until my cum’s forced into your womb.” he grunted.

cody. cody. cody.

his words. the way he was fucking her. the way he commanded her with just a look. the way she wanted to bleed more by his knife. y/n was infiltrated with thoughts of cody.

cody felt the way her cunt clenched and unclenched repeatedly around him, and he used his free hand to lift her hips up slightly so that with every thrust, he’d brush against her g-spot and the head of his cock would press right against her cervix - just the way she liked it. it wasn’t long before y/n’s eyes rolled back and her body arched off of the mattress as she came with a loud moan of cody’s name.

he fucked her through her orgasm, his eyes fixed on where their bodies connected. he rubbed her clit as she squirted over him, and the slick, wet sound of him thrusting his cock into her pussy while she moaned his name like a mantra was heavenly to cody. he focused on the feeling of her walls convulsing around him, his thrusts becoming inconsistent as he chased his high. “greedy little girl, coming undone on my cock without asking for permission first.” he grunted.

cody unwrapped her legs from around him, pushing them upwards so they could rest on his shoulders. he pulled the knife back from her throat, his hands finding the mattress as he leaned forward to bend her in half as he continued to jack hammer into her.

she screamed at the change in angle, her orgasm still coursing through her body. she felt cody’s mouth on hers, and she tried to kiss him back but was ultimately left to moan and scream against his mouth. “shut the fuck up and kiss me properly, slut.” cody swore, raising a hand to wrap around her neck and press against her airways. he kissed her again, this time with y/n trying to silence her moans as she kissed him back messily.

he pushed in with one final thrust, shuddering as he spilled his hot seed inside of her and moaning against her mouth. he kept his hips pressed flushed against her, pulling away from the kiss and letting go of her neck so he could press his face into the crook of her neck.

y/n’s hands were pressed against his back, her fingers dragging along his spine as she felt ropes of his cum spill into her.

before y/n could relax, cody was already standing back up and pulling out of her. he brought her legs down from his shoulders, moving the girl’s body as if she were a ragdoll and laying her completely flat on her bed.

he climbed on to the bed with her, pushing her legs apart with his knees and kneeling between her legs. the karambit was laying on the bed, so cody could freely use both of his hands on her body. “you didn’t possibly think i was done with you, did you princess?” he laughed, catching the confused expression on y/n’s face.

he watched the way pleasure overcame her features as cody pushed two fingers into her, pushing his cum deeper inside of her as he thrusted his fingers in and out of her, curling up into her g-spot. “oh fuck.” y/n breathed out, throwing her head back against the mattress as she grabbed at the bed sheets under her. cody latched his mouth on to one of her nipples, licking and sucking on the little bud as he played with her breast with his other hand.

“daddy, i’m so sensitive, please wait.” she begged, her eyes closing shut once cody pushed a third finger into her and began to relentlessly curl his fingers into her g-spot.

“wait? if you want me to wait and slow down, then why are you bucking your hips into my hand, huh?” he murmured against her skin. she hadn’t even noticed that she was bucking her hips up against cody’s hand, and making him reach deeper into her with just his fingers. her flushed cheeks grew impossibly more red in embarrassment as she fought to keep her hips glued to the bed.

cody pulled away from her breast, sitting back on his legs and rubbing her clit with his free hand as he continued to finger her, the sound of the mixture of her arousal and his cum was so pornographic that it even had caused cody to flush in embarrassment. despite her best efforts, y/n began to buck her hips helplessly against cody’s hand as she felt that familiar knot in her stomach begin to tighten.

“i feel you clenching down on my fingers, princess. apologize for cumming without permission and beg for me to make you cum now.” he ordered, as he pulled his fingers out of her and pulled back completely so that he wasn’t touching her at all.

y/n’s eyes widened at the lost of contact, her shocked expression fixed on cody’s amused gaze. she felt her face heat up and her heart swell in her chest. she raised her arm and covered her face with her forearm, feeling cody’s hand on her wrist in the next moment to pull her arm away from her face. she was met with cody’s face right over hers, a cocky smile etched on his face as confidence and dominance radiated from his body. it had sent her straight through the mattress, and she felt her arousal and his cum begin to spill out of her and on to the mattress. “please, daddy. i want to cum over your fingers. i’m sorry for cumming without permission earlier daddy. i’ll be good this time, i promise.” she whispered, her voice worn from the endless screaming and moaning she had done previously as well from her own embarrassment that cody was making her beg.

he thought about it for a moment, but the way y/n was looking up at him with big doe eyes and her puffy lips had formed a pout from her begging was cute enough to satisfy cody. he pecked her lips gently at the same time that he reached between their bodies and pushed his fingers back into her, easily replicating the same motions at the same pace he was earlier. “cum for me, princess.” he whispered in her ear, before pushing himself back up and using his free hand to rub her clit.

she focused on the feeling of cody’s fingers abusing her g-spot, the additionally pressure of his other hand rubbing her clit was making the knot in her stomach tighter with each passing second.

“mine. my pretty little girl.” cody groaned, watching the way y/n’s mouth had dropped open with endless stream of moans of his name and her body writhed under him. his words were enough to finally tip y/n over the edge as she came with a scream around his fingers, her body shooting up from the mattress before being roughly pressed back down by cody’s hand as he had seemingly increased the pace he was thrusting his fingers in and out of her to ride out her high.

she felt light headed, and her eyes were permanently squeezed shut. she felt cody pull his fingers out of her just as her orgasm had calmed down. her entire body felt as if it was numb, and there was a tingly sensation wherever cody rested his hands.

“someone’s all fucked out.” cody hummed in amusement, taking in the fucked out expression that had painted itself on y/n’s face. her lips were turned upwards into the smallest smile, her cheeks dusted a light pink, and when she finally opened her eyes to look at cody, he could practically feel the way they had opened a window into her soul and let him know that y/n was in pure bliss. “one more time, honey. give me one more and you can rest.” he promised her, rolling her over so that y/n was laying on her stomach. when she moved to get up on her knees, cody pushed her back down gently. “lay down, princess. just let me fill you back up, yeah?” he whispered, trailing kissing along her back and feeling the way she shivered from his touch.

her body was sensitive all over, the second orgasm that cody had pulled out of her had been so intense and so quickly after her first orgasm that y/n was unsure if she was even able to cum again. before she could tell cody, she felt the familiar cool metal pressed against her asscheek. “gotta mark you up here too. so no one can just fuck you from behind and ignore that i’ve already branded you.” she heard him say, followed by the feeling of him cutting into her skin that had her gasping.

the striking feeling of him cutting into her skin had also cut into the numbness of her body, and suddenly it was as if him cutting into her had shocked her nerves into hyper sensitivity. she wiggled her hips slightly, yelping when she felt his hand harshly slap against the flesh of her ass. she moaned at the sensation, which only made cody repeat the action.

“stupid fucking girl. loves getting cut into and getting her ass slapped.” he mumbled, rubbing over the spot where he had hit her with his palm as he continued to cut into the skin right above her ass. he pulled the knife away once he was done, dropping it to the mattress and running his hand to smear the blood that had began to gather on her skin. cody marveled at the sight of “cody’s <3” that he had carved into her lower back as he brought his bloodied hand up to his mouth to lick off her blood.

“can’t wait to take a picture of that later.” he laughed, lining himself up with her entrance and pushing himself back into her. he groaned at the feeling of her tight, swollen walls enveloping his length once again, and with the new position, cody had reached deeper into the girl at a new angle that had her mewling under him. he supported himself on his forearms beside her head, pressing a kiss to her back as he began to roughly thrust into her.

it didn’t take long for y/n to determine that this was her favorite way to have cody fucking into her.  she could feel his hot breath against her ear and listen to the way he softly moaned her name as if he were praising her. she could feel the way her flesh burned with every thrust and his hips would collide with her ass. she could feel the way her walls were being spread forcefully with his cock and the new angle had ensured that he was reaching parts of her body that she didn’t even knew existed. she pushed back up against him, as if trying to fuck herself back against him to get him deeper, deeper, deeper into her. the sound of skin slapping against skin had grown impossibly loud amongst the mantra of their moans in sync.

she felt cody’s hands grab hers and he laced their fingers together. “trying to fuck yourself on my cock, princess?” he moaned softly, shutting his eyes and focusing on the way y/n’s walls had felt impossibly tighter in the new position and the way she was rutting back up against him and forcing him deeper into her.

“yes daddy.” she moaned out, feeling cody pin her hands to her side. “want your babies deep in me, daddy. give it to me nice and deep.” she continued, and suddenly cody was pushing himself up so he could properly fuck into her from behind. a scream of pleasure was ripped out from y/n at the brutal pace, and she began to moan “daddy” as if it were a mantra.

“yeah, honey? you want me to breed you? fuck you full of my kids and let everyone know that it’s me who knocked you up?” cody grunted, something primal being awoken in him at y/n’s words. and suddenly, his thoughts were plagued with thoughts of him and y/n. him having kids with y/n. a future where it was just him and y/n in a room of their house with y/n cradling a baby close to her chest as she looks up at cody with tears in her eyes and a wide smile on his face. “gonna make you mine, y/n. gonna fill you up and fuck you good until you’re pregnant with my kid.” he moaned.

her third orgasm was pulled out of her so harshly that y/n felt as though she was having an out of body experience. she moaned out cody’s name as she came, her eyes rolling to the back of her head and everything around her beginning to spin at lightspeed. her entire body shook so ferociously that cody had to press against her lower back to keep her glued to the mattress as he jackhammered into her. suddenly, cody collapsed down on top of her, further pressing into her as he came with a loud moan of her name. his hips jerked forward with every rope of cum that was pulled out of him, y/n’s abused walls convulsing around him harshly and continuing to milk him for all he was worth.

it had been about ten seconds after, but cody was still coming and whispering praises in y/n’s ear. “fuck, i can’t stop cumming. your pussy is milking me.” he breathlessly whined in her ear. the confession had y/n’s walls clenching down on him once again. “stop that, i’ll keep cumming forever if you keep doing that, honey.” he was practically begging for her to stop clenching around him, as soft whines and whimpers fell from his lips.

“can’t help it.” she apologized, her voice hoarse and sounding as though she had just smoked a full pack of cigarettes from how much she had abused her voice while cody fucked her relentlessly. “that’s all your fault. telling me that you can’t stop cumming because of me is doing everything to my mind and body right now.” she admitted.

with his hips still pressed into her and his cock finally milked out of all he had to give her, cody turned her head with his hand so she could look at him. he leaned forward, capturing her lips in a kiss as they lazily and sloppily kissed each other.

it must be the orgasm, but y/n felt shockwaves being sent through her body as cody kissed her. her body reacted accordingly and she clenched around his length once more which caused cody to whimper against her mouth.

he pulled away, much to y/n’s chagrin and smiled at her. “i’d love to stay here like this, but we have blood to wash off of ourselves. cuts to disinfect. and a plan b we need to buy.” he laughed, watching y/n pout out her bottom lip. he pecked her lips once more before pushing himself off of her, pulling out from her in the process as a loud squelch sound filled the room.

“empty…” she complained, her voice barely above a whisper. cody hushed her, sitting back on his legs and spreading her legs so he could admire the way a seemingly endless stream of his cum trickled out of her.

“you just want to be filled with cock all the time.” he mused, scooping some of his cum on to his fingers and pushing it back into her, causing her to whimper from overstimulation. “no more, honey. don’t worry. just filling you back up with my cum.” he averted his gaze to the last place he had carved himself into her, seeing the cuts had already began to turn into scabs.

“can we do all those other things in like… 15 minutes or so? i can’t even stand up, and i want to lay here and be with my cody.” she asked, attempting to push herself up but ultimately failing and flopping back down on to the mattress.

“your cody?” he asked, complying to her wishes and laying down beside her. he turned her over so that she was laying on her side and pulled her against him, wrapping his arms around her securely and kissing the top of her head as she cuddled up against him.

“my name’s on your abs. i’ve squirted on you multiple times which is basically piss which means i’ve peed on you.” she mumbled, closing her eyes and sighing deeply as she reveled in the feeling of being so full of cody and being surrounded by cody. her entire body had grown numb and tingly, and y/n had no idea that she was even speaking in that moment - lost in the feeling of bliss from her orgasms. “and you’re my favorite person. that makes you my cody.” she mumbled, her brain feeling foggy and her heart suddenly feeling full in her chest.

he smiled down at her, although she wouldn’t see it as her light snores had already began to resonate through the room. cody relaxed against her, shutting his eyes and letting himself enjoy the feeling of y/n calling cody hers. “my y/n.” he mumbled to deaf ears before focusing on the sound of her sleeping soundly against his chest.

|| next part ||

[briarpatch-kids]

I should make bao from scratch. When I lived in Portland there was a little shop close to my school and the lady there made bao with ground chicken, Chinese sausage, and a quail egg and they were DREAMY

[explodingquails]

Sooo I heard there was some demand for more shartwolf

[queenkeesi]

Sy-on Boy and the Teenage Anya Incident

—

It was a sunny day at Eden Academy, but the usual carefree atmosphere was clouded by the anxious energy in a small alcove where third graders Damian Desmond, Emile Elman, and Ewen Egeburg were huddled together.

“Bossman, are you sure about this?” Emile asked, his face scrunched up with worry.

While it wasn’t unusual for the three friends to concoct wild schemes, thanks to the ridiculous amount of resources at their disposal—being the children of obscenely wealthy parents—this time, it seemed like they might have taken things a bit too far.

“Yeah, Boss, this seems… kinda crazy,” Ewen added, his pompadour bobbing as he nervously adjusted it.

“Will you two just shut up?!” Damian snapped, frustration clear in his voice. He held up the items he’d painstakingly gathered—a rusty key, a quail’s egg, and a blue marble. “It’s gonna work, alright?”

“Uh, but what if you like… get old but not taller?” Ewen asked, scratching his head.

“Or worse,” Emile shuddered dramatically, “what if you turn into an old man?!”

“Stop being such morons!” Damian hissed, his eyes narrowing. “I’m not going to turn into an old man! I’ve got the circle, I’ve got the spell, I’ve got everything under control!”

Damian was fuming inside. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t outshine his older brother, Demetrius. Demetrius had just been awarded another honor for being the top student in the ninth grade. It was like the universe was rigged against Damian, and he was fed up. Six years ahead—what a joke. So, Damian had decided to close that gap, using a spell from an old book he’d “borrowed” from the Desmond estate library. Today was the day he’d make everything right.

“Now, I just need to stand here and read the passage,” Damian declared, his voice tinged with the kind of determination only a kid with a grudge could muster.

The chalk circle on the ground was a crooked mess, with lines smudged and uneven from where one of them had accidentally stepped. It was the kind of circle that only a group of overconfident third graders could draw—something they thought looked cool, even though it was totally lopsided.

Before Damian could start, a high-pitched voice pierced the air. “Beckyyyyyy!”

Anya Forger’s voice rang out as she bolted across the grass, her little legs pumping furiously as she chased after Becky Blackbell, who was clutching a photo of Anya’s father, Loid, like it was the crown jewels. “Oh my god, Anya, this new photo of Loid! I must keep it!” Becky squealed, too busy swooning over the picture to watch where she was going.

“But you have so many already! And he’s married!” Anya yelled back, their voices growing louder as they closed in.

“Oof!” Becky smacked right into Emile and Ewen, sending them both stumbling backward.

“Hey, watch it!” Emile yelped, juggling the marble like it was about to explode.

“Seriously, Becky! You almost messed up the circle!” Ewen groaned, looking at the chalk lines, now even more crooked thanks to Becky.

“What circle?” Becky asked, staring down at the haphazard chalk drawing. “What kind of dumb stuff are you guys up to?”

Just then, Damian finished reading the passage, his voice rising with excitement. He looked up just in time to see Anya charging toward him like a mini bulldozer. “Sy-on boy!” she shouted, crashing into him with enough force to knock him out of the circle and flat on his back. The next thing they knew, thick pink smoke billowed from the circle, swirling around them all in a chaotic cloud.

As the smoke slowly cleared, the four kids stood frozen, their eyes wide with shock. The figure emerging from the mist wasn’t the eight-year-old Anya they knew—it was a stunning fifteen-year-old version of her. It was like something out of a shoujo manga, complete with glitter, a pink glow, and rose petals fluttering around her. Her short, playful pink bob had grown into long, flowing waves, framing her face with a soft, ethereal beauty. She had high cheekbones, delicate features, and eyes that seemed to hold a depth far beyond her years. The girl who used to eat dog food and play with bugs had transformed into a young lady of grace and poise, standing tall and confident in an Imperial Scholar’s cloak that shimmered in the sunlight.

Damian’s jaw practically hit the ground. Anya was taller—way taller—than he was now. He had to crane his neck just to look up at her. She’s… taller than me?! The thought alone sent his usual bravado into a tailspin of confusion and panic. The girl who used to wear mismatched socks and make goofy faces was now… stunning. Everything about her radiated an effortless charm that left Damian feeling oddly exposed and vulnerable.

Anya blinked her now clearer, more mature eyes as she took in her surroundings. “Where am I?” she asked, her voice smooth and confident, startling the boys with its new, rich tone. Even her voice had changed—it wasn’t the high-pitched, eager sound of a child but a melodic, calm voice that seemed to command attention without even trying.

Her gaze landed on Damian first, and her eyes widened in recognition. “W-what? Damian? Emile? Ewen? Becky?!”

Becky, ever the dramatic one, was the first to react. “Anya? Is that you? You’re all grown up!”

Damian was still speechless, his brain struggling to keep up with what was happening. He felt a strange, unfamiliar sensation in his chest—something that made him feel flustered in a way he wasn’t used to. She’s got an Imperial Scholar’s cloak on… is she even real? And why did the height difference make everything feel so much weirder?

“Yeah, it’s me,” Anya said, her voice laced with uncertainty. “Why are all of you so young? One minute I was just outside with…” Her eyes met Damian’s, and she hesitated, “And now you’re like, seven?”

“Hey! I’m not seven!” Damian snapped, finally finding his voice. “I’m eight, thankyouverymuch! And I was supposed to age up, not you!”

“S-Syon boy…” Anya muttered, her eyes wide as she stared at him. He mistook her shock for something else and was about to tell her off when she suddenly squealed with delight.

“Oh my god, you’re so small and cute!!” Without warning, Anya grabbed him and pulled him into a tight hug, squeezing him so hard he could barely breathe. Damian’s face turned an even deeper shade of red as he struggled in her grasp, completely overwhelmed by the sudden physical contact—and the fact that she was now taller and holding him like he was the little one.

When Anya finally let go, Damian was left sputtering, his heart racing as Emile and Ewen rushed over to check on him.

“Are you okay, Bossman?” Emile asked, barely able to hide a grin.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine!” Damian snapped, his voice cracking as he tried to regain his composure. “Just… get off me next time, Stubby Legs!”

Meanwhile, Becky was circling Anya in awe. “Oh my god, Anya, you look amazing! You’re like, a woman now! Your hair! Your outfit! And you’re an Imperial Scholar! Does your cloak have diamonds sewn in?!”

Anya blushed and looked down shyly. “Oh, no, no. But you did alter it, though, Becky.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Becky interrupted, her eyes wide with realization. “So you’re from the future! That means you can tell us about ourselves! Do I have a boyfriend? Do I have a lot of guys who like me? Am I still stylish? Do I still look pretty?”

Anya couldn’t help but smile at Becky’s enthusiasm. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, and yes,” she answered, watching as Becky squealed and spun around in a giddy circle. Even Anya’s smile was different now—more serene and composed, a reflection of the confidence she’d gained over the years. She wasn’t the clumsy girl who tripped over her own feet but someone who had clearly come into her own, with an air of sophistication that made her seem almost otherworldly.

“What about me? Do I have a girlfriend?” Ewen asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“Yes,” Anya chuckled, making Ewen’s face light up with excitement.

“Oh, oh, me next! Do I have a girlfriend?” Emile asked eagerly.

“No…” Anya replied, watching Emile’s face fall slightly before she added with a playful grin, “But only because you haven’t asked anyone yet!”

Emile’s mood instantly lifted, and he beamed at her. “Awesome! So I just gotta ask someone out. Cool!”

“What about Lord Dami—” Ewen began, but Damian, now boiling with frustration, shoved him aside.

“I don’t care about that stuff!” Damian growled, his frustration boiling over as he desperately tried to regain control of the situation. “But what I don’t get is how you’re still at Eden! If you’re really this old, shouldn’t you have been expelled or something by now?” He glanced over at Emile and Ewen, his voice rising, almost pleading for backup.

But Emile just shrugged. “I dunno, Boss. She seems like she’s got it together.”

“Yeah,” Ewen added, nodding nervously. “She’s got the Eden high school uniform on, plus the Imperial Scholar cloak. She’s probably super smart or something.”

Damian’s irritation spiked as he stared at them in disbelief, his face flushing with frustration. How can they be so gullible? he thought, feeling his composure slip away. It’s like they’ve never even thought about what high school is really like!

Anya chuckled softly, her eyes twinkling with a mix of amusement and empathy as she saw Damian’s mounting frustration. “I guess we all change then,” she said, her tone gentle but with a playful edge.

“Hmph! I doubt I’d socialize with the likes of you by then, Forger,” Damian shot back, crossing his arms and stomping his foot like a child on the brink of a meltdown. “It’s only because they make us do kiddy stuff that we have to deal with each other now.” ‘That’ll show her’, he thought, his heart racing.

“Oh, no, all five of us are friends,” Anya said casually, the remark so offhanded and confident that it felt like a punch to Damian’s gut, causing him to stumble back as if her words had physically knocked him over.

Becky gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. “But you and I are still best friends, right?” Her eyes glittered with excitement, already picturing teenage girl shopping trips and sleepovers.

Anya nodded, smiling warmly. “Of course! We just got back from a girls’ holiday in St. Tropezinne.”

Becky started hyperventilating. “Oh my god, really?!”

By this point, Damian had picked himself up, his annoyance turning into a full-blown temper tantrum. “Look, none of us care about your girls’ holiday!”

Ewen and Emile, always eager to chime in, muttered in unison, “We would’ve liked to hear about the food… maybe what the weather was like… if there were other girls…”

“WILL YOU TWO SHUT UP?!” Damian exploded, his face red as he spun back to Anya, pointing at her accusingly. “Y-you!”

Anya stared at him, surprised, her calm, demure expression only making Damian’s heart pound harder, like the Anya from their time always did when she gave him any attention.

“If you’re really from the future, tell me… am I an Imperial Scholar?” he demanded, the question bursting out of him with desperate intensity. He had to know—he HAD to.

Anya’s smile softened, warm and reassuring, which only made Damian’s nerves fray even more. “Of course you are, Damian.”

For a brief moment, relief washed over Damian, filling his chest with a sense of triumph. ‘He was going to be an Imperial Scholar!’

But then Becky, always the one to stir the pot, leaned in, smirking mischievously. “Yeah, but how many Tonitrus Bolts does he have?” she asked, her tone light, clearly intending it as a joke to tease Damian.

Anya paused, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Four, I think… maybe five… but I’m pretty sure it’s four.”

The words hung in the air like a bomb waiting to explode.

Emile and Ewen gasped dramatically, their eyes wide with terror. “FOUR TONITRUS BOLTS?!” they shrieked in unison, their voices trembling. “LORD DAMIAN?!”

Anya immediately cringed, realizing she had said too much.

Damian’s face drained of color, his earlier relief shattering as the implications hit him like a ton of bricks. His hands balled into fists, his body trembling with the effort to hold back the storm of emotions swirling inside him. “YOU LIAR!” he screamed, his voice cracking with the raw intensity of a little boy on the verge of a meltdown. “I DON’T HAVE BOLTS! HOW DARE YOU SAY THAT! YOU’RE JUST A BIG UGGO WITCH!”

“What is going on here?” a stern voice cut through the chaos. Demetrius Desmond stepped onto the patch of grass where they were gathered. Even at fifteen, he was still as gaunt and serious as ever, his hair slicked back in its usual style, his presence immediately commanding attention and silencing the group.

“Why are you screaming at…” Demetrius began, taking a step back in surprise. “This young lady?” He had expected to see the small Forger kid—someone Damian still shouldn’t be yelling at but always was—but a teenage girl? It was clearly inappropriate.

“Oh, Demetrius…” Anya said, recognizing him immediately. She straightened up and stepped toward him, her height now nearly matching his. The difference in their statures only made Damian feel smaller and more out of place.

“Do I know you…?” Demetrius asked, his usually impassive face showing a rare hint of surprise as he took in Anya’s appearance. She didn’t look like any student he knew, yet there she was, wearing the Eden high school uniform and an Imperial Scholar’s cloak.

“No, well, sort of. I’m Anya…” she began, her voice steady and confident, which only deepened the strange, unsettling feeling in Damian’s gut. Wait! He had started this!

“I took the book of spells and tried to use it to make myself your age!!!” Damian interrupted, his voice high-pitched and strained, as he tried to regain some semblance of control over the situation. This was his idea, after all!

Demetrius sighed, a rare crack in his usual composure as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I knew you took that book. Jeeves called me—you’ve disappointed him, you know.”

“Yeah…” Damian flushed, having been found out. “I took it, and it was supposed to make me older, but this idiot got in the way!” Damian snapped, his voice cracking as he pointed accusingly at Anya, trying to deflect the blame.

“Wait, wait, so you’re seriously Anya Forger?” Demetrius asked, his sharp eyes narrowing as he studied her closely. A subtle shift in his expression hinted at something more—a faint blush dusted his usually pale cheeks as he added, almost to himself, “I suppose Mother was right…”

Damian’s eyes narrowed, instantly on edge. “Mother was right about what?!”

But before he could demand further explanation, both Anya and Demetrius raised their hands in unison, silencing him in a way that was both infuriating and strangely coordinated.

“Yeah… that’s me,” Anya confirmed, her voice thoughtful as she pieced it together. “I think the spell somehow… pulled me from my own time, where I’m fifteen, to here and now. It must have affected me instead of just aging Damian, which I’m guessing was his intention…” She glanced at Damian before turning back to Demetrius, who nodded as he absorbed the explanation.

The other Eden students stood quietly, unnerved by Anya’s sudden maturity and the calm, almost adult-like demeanor she now exhibited. It was impressive, but it was also deeply unsettling.

“My biggest concern,” Anya continued, “is that the eight-year-old me has switched places with me. Logically, she’s where I last was, which, if my memory serves, was walking home from school. Not the worst place, but definitely not the best.”

Demetrius nodded in agreement, his usually impassive expression softening slightly with concern. “Yeah, this isn’t a great situation, is it?”

Becky gasped, her eyes wide with worry. “Oh no, Anya! I mean, little Anya! Will she be okay?”

The boys exchanged guilty looks, Emile and Ewen both feeling a pang of responsibility as they glanced up at the older Anya and Demetrius.

Damian clenched his fists, trying desperately to mask the worry gnawing at him. He couldn’t help but hope that Anya—stupid and annoying as she was—would be okay. But the tension in his chest only grew as he watched her.

Anya noticed their concern and smiled warmly, attempting to reassure them. “I think she’ll be fine, actually. I was with my boyfriend, so she’s probably with him now. He’ll definitely take care of her.”

The mention of her boyfriend felt like a punch to Damian’s gut, making his fists clench even tighter. Boyfriend? The word echoed in his mind, making the sting of jealousy and frustration almost unbearable.

Becky, ever the curious one, couldn’t resist. “You have a boyfriend?! What’s he like?” she squealed.

A faint blush spread across Anya’s cheeks as her hand moved to fiddle with the chain of her Imperial Scholar’s cloak, her fingers brushing over the elegant design as she thought about him. “Well, he goes to Eden with us and he’s an Imperial Scholar too,” she said softly, clearly lost in the memory.

Damian’s breathing quickened, his frustration boiling over. “How is any of this possible? There’s no way you have a boyfriend, and no way you’re an Imperial Scholar!” he shouted, his voice cracking with disbelief and rising panic.

The others fell silent, the air thick with tension. They all knew that Anya had actually earned more Stella Stars than any of them in the present, yet the idea that she could have surpassed them so much, even in the future, was overwhelming.

Anya didn’t rise to Damian’s taunts. Instead, she simply patted his head, her expression affectionate and almost maternal. “Aw, little Sy-on boy,” she teased, her tone gentle, making Damian hiss in annoyance, his temper flaring.

Demetrius sighed, looking at Damian with a tired expression. “We’ve been over this so many times, Damian. Anyone can become an Imperial Scholar for a great number of reasons.” His little brother’s obsession with it was starting to wear thin.

“Yeah, Bossman! She’s got medals pinned to her cloak too! Look, a tennis one!” Emile pointed out, trying to lighten the mood.

“Ooh, a nebula one! What’s this one for?” Ewen asked eagerly, their voices overly enthusiastic as they admired Anya’s achievements.

Anya sweatdropped, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the kids’ eager, expectant faces all focused on her. “Oh, that’s just from the astronomy club…” she said with a nervous laugh, then quickly shook her head to refocus on the situation. “Demetrius, I know this is all really strange, and I get that you don’t really know me or enjoy working with others, but I really need your help. In the future, we’re more acquainted, and I promise I won’t be a bother.”

“We are? Interesting…” Demetrius pondered. “Very well then, I suppose we can’t just leave little Anya in the future. We should head to my dorm then and leave the kids.”

“What? We can’t help?” Damian’s frustration reached a breaking point. His eyes began to well up with tears he was barely holding back, his face turning red as his emotions spiraled out of control. Not only was Anya older now and benefiting from his plan, but Demetrius, who never solved problems with him, was willing to work with her. His fists clenched tighter, his nails digging into his palms as he fought to keep the tears from falling. ’Why does everyone believe this?! Why does everyone think she’s so amazing?!’ His voice cracked as he tried to speak and he felt the burning sensation behind his eyes intensify as he struggled to keep his composure.

Anya noticed the telltale signs of Damian’s emotional turmoil, and her heart softened. She bent down to his level, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Damian, it’s not that you wouldn’t be helpful,” she said softly, her tone full of understanding. “It’s just that it’ll be easier for Demetrius to help right now since we’re older… I know it’s frustrating, but it doesn’t mean you’re not important.”

Her words were meant to reassure him, but the tension in Damian’s chest only grew tighter. He bit his lip hard, trying to force back the tears, but his voice still trembled when he spoke. “B-but I did this!” he insisted, his voice barely above a whisper, thick with emotion. “I was supposed to be the one who got older! Not you! I—I—” He choked on his words, his eyes brimming with tears that refused to be contained.

Seeing Damian so close to breaking down, Anya’s heart ached. Without a second thought, she pulled him into a gentle hug, wrapping her arms around his tense shoulders. “It’s okay, Damian,” she whispered soothingly. “I know it’s hard, but you’re not alone in this. We’ll figure it out together.”

Damian stiffened in her embrace, desperately trying to hold on to the last shreds of his dignity. He didn’t want to cry—especially not in front of Anya, who seemed so much older and more composed now—but the warmth of her hug and the kindness in her voice made it almost impossible to keep the tears at bay.

Becky, unable to contain her admiration, tried to lift the mood. “Oh my god, she’s so cool!!”

“Wow, yeah, she is cool…” Emile murmured, while Ewen nodded in agreement.

Damian, still reeling from the whirlwind of emotions, could only manage a small nod in response, his fists slowly unclenching as he blinked rapidly, trying to clear the tears from his eyes before they could spill over. The overwhelming mix of embarrassment, anger, and jealousy left him feeling utterly defeated, but he fought to keep himself together, refusing to let his emotions fully show.

“Okay, yeah, let’s just all go,” Demetrius stated, giving in to the plan as the group made their way toward his dormitory, each of them still processing the bizarre events that had unfolded.

---

As they walked through the high school section of the campus, Damian and his friends felt increasingly out of place. The buildings seemed to loom larger, the older students looked impossibly mature, and everything about the high school section felt intimidating. But Anya and Demetrius, both moving with the ease of those who belonged, were completely at home.

Everywhere they went, people stopped and stared at Anya. No one except the kids and Demetrius knew she was actually the eight-year-old Anya Forger; to everyone else, she was a mysterious new girl who had suddenly appeared, radiating confidence and grace. Whispers followed them down the hallways as students speculated about who she might be.

“Looks like everyone notices Anya!” Becky said as she nudged Damian, “bet you don’t think she’s such a stupid uggo now do you?”

Damian rolled his eyes, “No people are staring cause they think she’s weird.”

Emile and Ewen, always eager to join in on the gossip, chimed in with wide grins. “I dunno, Bossman,” Ewen said with a snicker, “maybe they think she’s Demetrius’s girlfriend.”

Damian’s teeth clenched involuntarily at the suggestion. A strange, unfamiliar wave of jealousy surged through him. But he quickly shook it off, refusing to entertain the ridiculous idea. ‘There’s no way’, he told himself, though the thought still nagged at him.

Becky, not one to let things go, turned her attention to Anya with exaggerated curiosity. “So, Anya, is your boyfriend rich? Handsome? Tall?”

Anya’s expression softened, a small smile playing on her lips. “Yes, he’s all of those things, but…” Her cheeks flushed a delicate pink, and she added softly, “Most importantly, he’s kind. We’ve been through a lot together.”

Becky let out a dreamy sigh, clasping her hands together. “That’s so romantic! I want a boyfriend like that! Is he older?”

“No,” Anya replied, a hint of amusement in her voice. “He’s in our class.”

Damian felt his irritation spike, an unpleasant heat rising in his chest. ’What classmate?’ he wondered, his mind racing. ‘And why do I even care?’ But care he did, much to his annoyance. He tried to push the thoughts away, but they clung to him like stubborn cobwebs.

Before he could dwell on it any longer, a guy from the football team swaggered over, clearly interested in Anya. “Hey there, you new around here?” he asked with a confident grin, his eyes raking over Anya in a way that made Damian’s blood boil.

Before Anya could respond, Demetrius stepped in smoothly, his tone icy and commanding. “Move along.” Despite his slight build and typically aloof demeanor, there was something about Demetrius’s presence—the way he carried himself with that quiet, unyielding confidence that came with being a Desmond—that made people think twice about crossing him.

The football player hesitated, then slinked away, clearly not wanting to challenge the Desmond name. Damian felt a brief surge of satisfaction at seeing the guy retreat, but it was quickly replaced by a gnawing worry. ‘At least she won’t be stuck with that guy,’ he thought with relief. But then a more unsettling idea crept into his mind, one that made his stomach twist. ’But what if she ends up liking Demetrius?’

As they continued walking, Damian’s mind wouldn’t let go of the troubling thought. He imagined Anya and Demetrius together, laughing, studying, walking down the halls… His heart pounded harder, and not in a good way.

A group of girls nearby began whispering loudly, their voices carrying over to the group. “Who’s she? Is she a transfer student? Is she… Desmond’s girlfriend?”

“I don’t know, but she looks really cool though… But why are those kids following them?”

Damian’s hands clenched into fists, his fingers digging into his scalp as he struggled with the idea. MDesmond’s girlfriend?’The words echoed in his mind, almost too much to bear. He could feel an ill sensation rising in his throat, as if the mere suggestion was enough to make him sick.

“Bossman, you okay?” Emile asked, noticing Damian’s obvious distress.

“Yeah, you’re looking a little green,” Ewen added, peering at Damian with concern. Then, as if a lightbulb went off in his head, Ewen added, “Well, to be honest, Anya isn’t exactly Desmond material, right? But Demetrius is kind of… scary.”

Emile nodded in agreement. “Yeah, he’s always so calm, but you just know he’s thinking ten steps ahead. And remember when he just stared down that rugby player without even blinking? Creepy, right?”

Damian’s mind conjured up a horrifying shoujo manga-style image of a wedding between Anya and Demetrius—Anya in a flowing white dress, Demetrius in a sharp suit, the two of them smiling at each other with hearts in their eyes. The thought made Damian’s stomach turn. He could almost hear the nauseatingly sweet background music that would accompany such a scene.

Becky, always ready to poke the bear, snickered as she glanced at Damian. “Maybe he wants this Anya to stay so she and Demetrius can be together she can be his big sister-in-law! ” she teased, her voice full of mock innocence.

Damian shot her a withering look, his face pale and his heart pounding. Ice ran through his veins as he glared at Becky, knowing she was just trying to get a rise out of him, but he couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling gnawing at him. He said nothing, his thoughts too jumbled to respond. ’Why is this bothering me so much?‘ he thought, the question circling in his mind like a storm he couldn’t control.

As they finally reached Demetrius’s dorm, Damian kept his gaze firmly ahead, trying to bury the irrational jealousy and confusion swirling inside him. But the image of Anya with Demetrius lingered, refusing to let him rest.

Finally, they arrived at Demetrius’s dorm. Damian let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, glad to be off the increasingly unsettling campus. The tension hung in the air, especially for Damian, who couldn’t shake the turmoil churning inside him.

“Right, you three,” Demetrius gestured at the boys, “explain what you did.”

The boys took a deep breath and began to explain the process, as best as eight-year-olds could. Both Demetrius and Anya listened intently, which felt strange to Damian—Demetrius rarely paid attention to him, and now, combined with older, composed Anya, it was unsettling.

As Demetrius flipped through the pages of the spellbook, the conversation naturally paused. Becky sidled up to Anya, still fascinated by the entire situation. “So, Anya… when you get back to your time, will you tell your boyfriend about all of this? I bet he’d be super jealous if he knew Damian was helping you.”

Anya’s smile turned a bit mischievous. “Oh, I think he’d find it pretty funny, if I’m honest.”

Becky oohed, her curiosity piqued. “Nice! Yeah, I bet your boyfriend doesn’t get fazed by other guys at all.”

Anya laughed. “He definitely gets fazed sometimes, but with stuff like that, we can work it out.”

Becky gasped dramatically, looking like she’d just discovered a new life goal. “You’re so mature and cool, Anya! I love it! Am I as cool as you?”

Damian rolled his eyes, clearly fed up with the whole conversation. “Neither of you are cool!”

Anya stared at Damian for a moment, her expression thoughtful as she studied him. Damian’s face flushed red under her intense gaze, her big green eyes making him squirm. She was definitely Anya. “W-what do you want?!” he snapped, stomping his foot in frustration, trying to break the tension.

But she didn’t look away. “Sy-on boy… let’s go outside for a moment.”

Damian huffed, crossing his arms defensively. “Fine, whatever,” he grumbled, dragging his feet as he followed Anya out of the dorm room. She closed the door behind them, and he stood there, glaring at her.

“I can’t help but ask… why did you do this? Why did you want to be older?” she asked, her voice gentle but curious.

“That’s none of your business!” he spat, his bratty tone cutting through the air.

Anya didn’t flinch. Instead, she placed a hand on his shoulder, her touch soft. “I’m just trying to help, Damian. Please, tell me.” She smiled at him, and Damian felt that same uncomfortable squirming sensation he got when little Anya looked at him with tears in her eyes.

“I-I-I wanted to be older like Demetrius! If I was older, I could get as many Stella Stars as him—maybe even more!” He refused to admit the deeper truth—that he wanted to be more like Demetrius so his father might finally be impressed and spend more time with him.

“I see. Well, that took a lot of courage to admit,” Anya said, her voice calm and reassuring. She placed her other hand on his other shoulder and bent down so her face was close to his. “But don’t you think that even if it had worked, it wouldn’t have solved anything? You’d just be older, and you’d have lost all the time you could’ve spent with your friends.”

Damian’s heart pounded like crazy, and if she wasn’t holding him still, he would’ve bolted. This was like his usual Anya fluster times a million. “B-b-but…” He tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out.

Anya sighed and stepped back, giving him some space. “Can you just try to accept that you’re good enough?” she asked, tilting her head to the side with a soft smile.

Damian’s face felt like it was on fire, and he couldn’t bring himself to say anything.

“For me?” Anya added sweetly.

“F-fine! But you’re still a big uggo with stubby legs! And I bet your boyfriend smells!” Damian blurted out, his bratty tone flaring up as a defense.

Anya chuckled, unable to resist ruffling his hair again. “Aw, little Sy-on boy…”

“Hey!” Becky called from the door, peeking out. “I think Demetrius has found something!”

Anya and Damian quickly returned inside.

Demetrius looked up from the spellbook. “I think this is it,” he said, pointing to a passage. “But we’ll need the same items you used originally to cast it. Do you still have them?”

Damian nodded, pulling out the rusted key, quail’s egg, and blue marble. “Yeah, I’ve got everything. Let’s just get this over with.”

Anya looked at the items and then at Damian, her expression softening. “Thank you, Damian. For everything.”

Damian felt his cheeks heat up again. The normal Anya never said his first name like that. “Whatever.”

“Just real quick…” Anya walked over to Demetrius. “I’m guessing there’s a memory removal spell?”

Demetrius nodded. “There is, yeah. I’ll use it on the kids.”

Anya nodded, relieved that he immediately understood.

Becky’s eyes widened. “What?! No! You can’t make us forget you—you’re so cool!”

Emile, Ewen, and even Damian reacted a little, clearly not thrilled with the idea.

Anya knelt down to their level, her voice warm and gentle. “Aw, guys, it’ll be fine. I’ve probably revealed too much, and I don’t want any of your futures to change.”

She hugged each one of them warmly, saving Damian for last. As she hugged him, Damian stiffened, not hugging her back. She whispered something sweet in his ear: “I think you’re good enough, and little Anya does too, we don’t want you to be like Demetrius”

Damian’s breath hitched, a mix of emotions swirling inside him. She knew. How did she know? He felt his jealousy melt away, if only for a moment.

Anya then turned back to Demetrius. “Thank you for your help,” she said, her tone sincere.

Demetrius looked at her thoughtfully before asking point-blank, “Anya… your boyfriend… he’s…”

“Yes,” Anya replied, smiling endearingly.

Demetrius nodded, processing the confirmation.

With that, Demetrius began the ritual, carefully following the instructions in the spellbook. The room filled with a soft glow as the spell took effect, and soon, the pink smoke returned, enveloping Anya once more.

When the smoke cleared, Anya was back to her eight-year-old self, sitting on the floor and looking dazed. She yawned and rubbed her eyes, blinking at her surroundings.

“Anya!” Becky exclaimed, rushing over to her. “You’re back!”

Anya blinked, her big, innocent eyes wide as she looked around. “What happened? Who woke me up?”

Damian let out a sigh of relief, glad to see that Anya was okay, though he couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of loss.

“What was it like?” Becky asked, her curiosity bubbling over.

“What was what like?” Anya asked, tilting her head, which made the kids collectively facepalm.

“The future! That’s where you went!! Did you see us?” Emile asked, his voice filled with excitement.

Anya just blinked, her expression blank. “No, I think I was sleeping.”

“Are you serious?” Ewen groaned, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

As the others complained, Anya stared at Damian, trying to piece together her memories. There was something fuzzy and warm in her thoughts when she tried to remember if she had been somewhere else. Damian’s face seemed to float into her mind.

Damian noticed her staring and immediately turned beet red, his bratty instincts kicking in. “W-what, uggo?! Stop looking at me like that!”

Anya blinked again, her thoughts swirling. “Maybe… I think I saw…” She paused, trying to grasp the fleeting memory of Damian’s face in her mind. “No, I don’t remember.” She shrugged, letting it go, though the feeling lingered.

“Can all of you sit in a circle?” Demetrius suddenly interrupted, his voice flat and uninterested, as if he was bored with the whole ordeal.

“No!” Becky protested, crossing her arms defiantly. “I don’t want to forget older Anya!”

Demetrius gave them all a stern, emotionless look, and they reluctantly gave in, shuffling into a circle. As he performed the memory removal spell, it was almost like magic—because it was—the kids suddenly forgot everything, blinking in confusion as they looked around, wondering why they were sitting there.

“I’m hungry,” Anya mumbled, rubbing her eyes sleepily. “I want peanuts.”

Damian, feeling oddly lighter and more relaxed, snorted. “You’re always hungry for something dumb like peanuts.”

Anya frowned, her confusion deepening. “Why are you so mean to me?”

Damian blushed, quickly looking away to hide his embarrassment. “Shut up, stupid. Let’s just get out of here,” he grumbled, stomping out of the room. The others followed, leaving Anya and the others to wonder why he was acting so strange.

—

Epilogue - The Future

The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm, golden glow over the city as Anya and Damian strolled down the quiet street, laughing about something trivial and enjoying the calm after a long day at Eden Academy. They had just finished studying for their upcoming exams, but the conversation had long since shifted to lighter topics—jokes about their classmates, teasing each other, and the occasional playful argument.

Anya, now fifteen and every bit as confident and spirited as she had been back in her earlier years, nudged Damian playfully. “You know, you still make that grumpy face whenever someone mentions Demetrius,” she teased, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Damian rolled his eyes, though there was a fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Yeah, well, old habits die hard,” he retorted, but his tone was light, and there was no real edge to his words. Being with Anya had softened his once hard lines—at least around her.

They continued walking, their hands brushing occasionally, the comfort of their relationship evident in every little interaction. Damian glanced at Anya, marveling at how much had changed since they were kids. He never would have imagined back then that they’d end up like this—together, and happy.

But just as the thought crossed his mind, Anya suddenly stumbled, her grip on his arm tightening for a moment before she swayed, her eyes fluttering shut.

“Anya?” Damian’s voice was filled with concern as he caught her, easing her down onto a nearby bench. His heart pounded in his chest, a surge of panic rising as he watched her seemingly lose consciousness.

And then, with a soft “poof,” Anya’s body shrank before his eyes, her teenage form dissolving into the familiar figure of an eight-year-old girl. She was now back in her original Eden Academy elementary school uniform, looking just as she had years ago—innocent, sweet, and utterly adorable.

For a moment, Damian just stared, his breath caught in his throat. He was overwhelmed by a rush of emotions he hadn’t felt in years. Anya, small and childlike again, was undeniably cute—so cute that it almost made him want to scoop her up and never let go. But then he remembered who he was, and what had just happened.

He had to hold it together.

Gently, he cradled Anya in his arms, feeling her head nestle against his shoulder as she drifted into a deep sleep, seemingly unaware of the transformation that had just occurred. Damian’s heart squeezed as he held her close, his protective instincts kicking in full force. She was so small, so vulnerable… and so not supposed to be eight years old right now.

His mind raced back to the odd conversation he’d had with Demetrius when he’d turned fifteen. At the time, it had seemed so out of the blue—Demetrius, with his usual cryptic demeanor, had pulled him aside and told him, “There’s a chance Anya might… revert, someday. If it happens, don’t panic. Just call me.”

Damian had brushed it off back then, finding it weird and typical of his brother’s strange way of speaking. But now, holding a tiny, sleeping Anya in his arms, the memory came rushing back with a cold clarity.

He needed to call Demetrius. Now.

Spotting a small convenience store nearby, Damian adjusted Anya in his arms and made his way inside. The bell above the door chimed softly as he entered, and the shopkeeper, an elderly woman with a kind face, looked up from the counter.

“Well, aren’t you just the cutest young father,” she said with a warm smile, her eyes twinkling as she noticed the sleeping girl in his arms.

Damian’s cheeks flushed a deep red at the comment. He quickly shook his head, ready to correct her, but the words got caught in his throat. Instead, he found himself inwardly admitting that the idea of having mini Anyas with his Anya someday wasn’t so bad. It was a thought that made his heart flutter—a future he hadn’t dared to imagine before now.

But he quickly refocused, pushing the thought aside. He had more pressing concerns at the moment.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Damian managed to say, his voice a little tight. “Could I use your pay phone?”

“Of course, dear,” the shopkeeper said, gesturing to the old-fashioned pay phone in the corner of the store. “It’s right over there.”

“Thank you,” Damian replied, carrying Anya over to the phone. He carefully balanced her in one arm and fished a few coins out of his pocket with the other, slipping them into the slot before dialing Demetrius’s number. The phone rang once, twice, and then his brother’s calm, measured voice answered on the other end.

“Damian,” Demetrius said, his tone indicating that he already knew why Damian was calling. “It’s happening, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Damian replied, his voice a little more strained than he would have liked. He glanced down at Anya, still fast asleep in his arms. “She just… poofed back into a kid. What do I do?”

“Bring her to the estate,” Demetrius instructed, his voice steady. “I’ll explain everything when you get here. And Damian… try to stay calm.”

Damian nodded, even though his brother couldn’t see him. “Yeah… sure,” he muttered, hanging up the phone. He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts as he looked down at the little girl in his arms—the girl who had somehow stolen his heart, even if she was eight years old again.

Despite the situation, a small, fond smile tugged at his lips. “You’re lucky you’re so cute, you know that?” he whispered, more to himself than to her.

With that, he adjusted his grip on her and left the store, giving a quick nod of thanks to the shopkeeper as he headed toward the Desmond estate. His heart was filled with both concern and an odd sense of nostalgia. Whatever this was, whatever had caused this strange turn of events, he’d figure it out—with Demetrius’s help, of course. But for now, all that mattered was getting Anya somewhere safe.

[mistermasochist]

Numeon had said he was compassionate. All Vulkan felt was alone.

War was unmaking; it went against everything his old father had taught him in the forge. Vulkan valued craft, the sense of transition beforehand and permanence afterwards. It brought quietude to his troubled and lonely soul. His true father, he who had crafted Vulkan to be a general, needed a warrior, not a black-smiter. A warrior was what Vulkan would be.

She scratched at the Pyre Guard’s battle-plate and he looked as if he was about to forcibly remove her when a glance from his primarch stayed Numeon’s hand.

“It is only fear. We have seen it before.” Vulkan gently pulled the hysterical woman away from his equerry. Touched by the primarch’s aura she calmed enough for an Army trooper to take her away. A little farther away, a picter flashed as one of the remembrancers recorded the moment for posterity. “You.”

The man quailed as Vulkan addressed him. “M-my lord?”

“What is your name?”

“Glaivarzel, sire. Imagist and iterator.”

Vulkan nodded. “You will surrender your picter to the nearest discipline-master.”

“S-sire?”

“No one must see that we are saviours, Glaivarzel. The Emperor needs us to be warriors, to be death incarnate. To be anything less would endanger the Crusade and my Legion. Do you understand?”

Promethean Sun, Nick Kyme

Fandom often sees Vulkan as extravert and snuggly teddy bear with no issues. Everything is totally wrong, and he was not okay since his meeting with Emperor.

[tyxoxo]

Ylang Ylang

| summary: while being close to you and your family’s extinction, a promise needs to be broken to save the lives of your people

| pairing: fairyhunter!jeno x fairy!reader au w/fairy!xiaojun x fairy!reader (if you squint)

| genre: suspense, angst, smut, fantasy, multiple nct/wayv + aespa character inserts, jeno and hendery are brothers

| words: 11.6k

| warnings: murder, blood, torture, knife play, noncon smut + suggestive scenes, blackmail, exhibitionism, caging/imprisonment, degrading, unprotected sex

(this is purely fiction, warnings in bold mean potentially triggering content, everything is tagged accordingly)

a/n: @jenomov and i came up with this concept out of nowhere also, so massive thanks to them for the inspiration, ideas, summary, and endless brainstorming! they practically helped write this <3 also jeno’s look in the header is essentially how i envisioned him to look for this story but imagine him however you want 

playlist: 

livv? - ylang ylang

weatherby - fleeting frozen heart 

datfootdive - stars

alicks - 7 laps later

tame impala - one more hour

“C’mon Xiaojun, spit it out already!!” 

You teased at your loving best friend, shoving him playfully with a single finger as you watched him struggle to speak lucid sentences.

The two of you were in your favorite and most “private” hang out spot—in the trees on the outskirts of your shared village. Far enough away from the hustle and bustle of the community, but close enough for comfort. Though you tried your best not to drift into the terminology of “safety”, “danger”, or “warnings.” 

It was a sure way to initiate ill omens.

Both of your parents were aware of your shared infinity for exploring; venturing past the municipality limits. But as long as the two of you shrunk to “the size of a quail” outside of the village, they allowed you to bask in the wonders of blaring curiosity, to your heart’s content. Your species could never truly bring your guard down…

“Sorry…I just can’t form my words today.” He scratched the back of his head as he peered down at his lap, rustling the Crane's-bill flower crown perched atop his mauve hair in the process. 

“Since when do you ever really form your words?” 

This time you gave a subtle laugh to pair with your smile, hoping to ease his obvious discombobulation. 

“You’re right. I don’t.” 

His eyes met yours, his wings even twitching, which always signified when your kind was flustered.

He continued again, pulling at his own thumb as he drifted his eyes up to the newly blossomed tree leaves; an obvious attempt to avoid eye contact.

You could try to deny it for as long as you lived, but there was something within you that adored him more than he probably ever knew.

It was his tenderness, his soothing voice, his patience, whether it was those nights you stormed out of your house in search of him, as a form of solace from the constant nightmares of your genocide, or the days that you wanted to rant about your parent’s overprotectiveness (though they’ve eased up in recent years).

Anything you needed, he was there. And you always tried your best to do the same, despite having the feeling that he bottled up some of his troubles to keep from feeling like a burden himself.

“Well…I w-wanted to tell you, that I really appreciate you.” 

He gave up on his own finger trap, to tug at the bottom of his white flounce shirt, finally meeting your eyes again with another twitch of his translucent wings.  

“I appreciate you too Xiaojun, always.” 

You leaned forward, so light that you barely caused the branch underneath you to stir. He froze upon witnessing your close contact, only his brown irises lowering to watch as you took both of his hands into your own.

“Is everything okay?” 

You didn’t mean for your voice to come out in a whisper, but his stuttering had become more frequent, and this only made your thoughts whirl just as loudly as his.

If only you knew that he was on his way to confess his true feelings to you, if only he could get his mouth to work as fast as his brain, maybe then he could finally pull the weight off his shoulders.

But you made all of this difficult without even trying. His love for everything that was you, was infinite. 

Even your constant teasing.

And the glimmer in your eyes was no match for his composure, let alone the way you held his hands. 

You scanned his face in search of an answer, that definitely took too long for him to spill.

“Yeah don’t worry, everything's fine.” 

You tilted your head in confusion, wondering where this could possibly be going, knowing he was aware of your ever-so-apparent “what’s the deal” persona. 

He cleared his throat, and geared himself up for the revelation of a lifetime,

“I’ve been m-meaning to tell you that I really like you…that I’ve always dreamed of what it would be like to have this moment with you.”

You felt your wings twitch, more noticeable than his own. And the warmth that flooded your entire body could’ve lit the entire forest in a swarming blaze. 

“W-would it be crazy if I asked you to be mine—”

His lips seemed to come at a rest in slow motion, eyelashes fluttering in stark contrast as he heard your breath hitch in your throat.

Not even the sun’s rays that flashed through the white pine tree could’ve taken you out of your shock. 

You used what seconds you had left, to replay his confession in your head,

“…I’ve always dreamed of what it would be like to have this moment with you”

Xiaojun, your best friend since childhood, had always dreamed of this?

But the thoughts of responding were ripped away, as blood-curdling screams roared from the direction of your home. They weren’t light hearted nor playful by any means, and with the ability to hear great distances, the agony that bestowed upon your ears caused you both to wince in fear. 

Xiaojun turned his head to look through the leaves, skin turning pale upon hearing further destruction. 

Most of the branches obscured your vision, but it didn’t take much longer for the despair to continue. 

“They found us!” 

That voice, sounded like Karina.

And her frenzied words gave the answer—after two years of hiding, the hunters were back. 

You felt your heart drop to your stomach, the ability to breathe becoming a distant memory.  

You squeezed Xiaojun’s hand as you crawled through the thick pine, your best friend eventually grabbing your waist to stop you from venturing out too far.

“Stay back!” His hushed tone was never this turbulent, bringing all the more truth to the chaos brewing just a mile away. 

“We have to go help!”

“It’s too dangerous, I can’t risk you getting hurt!” 

Your adrenaline was too much for Xiaojun, as you managed to fight through his tight embrace or rather his hold on your longing to see your family and friends for what could be the last time. 

“Let me go! We can’t just sit here and do nothing!”

You attempted to gear your wings for flight as you broke through his hold, hands raking through the leaves to get a clear view through the sea of green.

As you hovered past the pine tree, a familiar being appeared to be flying this way, the telltale sign being the blush colored wings that matched the embroidered dress swaying through the win at high speeds.

It was Giselle. And upon getting a closer distance, you saw the blood spatter that painted her arms in fresh crimson. 

She was her natural size, like what your kind all chose to be while in the comfort of your home, and the only guess as to why she didn’t choose to shrink was the amount of energy it took to do so. She seemed to grip at her side as the blood continued to stain her silk dress, not once looking up at which direction to fly. Her Dahlia flower crown was nowhere to be found, something that she cherished more than anything in the world.

You had to help her, get her to safety within the trees, whatever you could to secure a better fate. But the constant screams kept you too terrified to react, and being out in the open like this was indeed risky. 

Before you could muster the strength to call her name, Xiaojun was behind you, the vibration of his wings filling your senses. He leaped at you once again, this time pulling you back towards the trees with labored breaths.

He couldn’t just do this to you…prevent you from saving a life, from saving not only your friend, but his friend too.

You managed a measly call of her name, knowing her advanced hearing would be enough. And successfully, she glanced up for the first time since her escape, to watch as you motioned for her to join together in the same tree.

Her face, lit up with hope, was the last sanguine expression to ever grace her face, as the all too familiar sound of a crossbow arrow being loosed from its quarrel sped towards her injured frame.

Your scream, one just as gut-wrenching as those that continued from your home, was muffled against Xiaojun’s palm as he pulled you back within the tree. You were forced away from any further intervention, forced away from burying your guilt.  

Giselle flung forward from the sheer impact of the arrow as it shot through her heart, her umber strands flying through the air in the same intensity; entire body falling face forward onto the red speckled bermuda grass.

You couldn’t look away, not while you witnessed her final moments—eyes drifting up to meet yours within her last breath, wings falling lifeless against her spine, and a faint smile from knowing you would be the last person she would ever see, instead of the hunters that were walking towards her. 

Your entire body shook against Xiaojun, trembling in fear that her killers would surely discover the two of you here.

“Fuck! Hendery I had her!” 

An unfamiliar voice, but one you would never forget, roared through the clearing that led to your dead friend. 

You never felt so much anger from a person before, someone that you could only imagine was seething at the teeth.

Xiaojun finally took his hands away from your mouth, allowing you to inhale as much as you could before they got too close. But he still kept his arms wrapped around you, fighting through his own sobs that hit against the back of your neck.

“No Jeno! I’m not letting you fuck this up anymore! Remember what Johnny said?”

Yet another unfamiliar voice, but you were able to put the faces with the names right as the two humans approached just meters away, barely appearing disheveled despite the chaos they just unleashed. Thankfully their lack of enhanced senses worked in your favor, as you and Xiaojun remained undetected during their inspection of the area.

The one holding the crossbow was Hendery. And the one to speak first with the serrated knife was Jeno. 

These had to have been the hunters your family warned about. For the two years since relocating to this new area, all of the last surviving elders made it their mission to describe these two, for if the day came that they scoured the land again, you would instantly know it was them. 

They were just as menacing as your parents described, especially the blonde, Jeno. 

Whether or not it was on purpose to instill fear within all of your kind, you were always taught to never underestimate him or his brother. 

The two of them could’ve passed as supernatural beings themselves—flawless skin, chiseled features, intimidating height, and the perfect build…you could’ve spent your time describing their otherworldly looks, but their tyranny overshadowed everything else in your mind.

Your breathing finally began to steady as you stared them down like hawks within the evergreen tree, watching with glossy eyes as they stood over Giselle.

Maybe it was the tactical black clothes they wore, or the shared onyx in their eyes. Either observation caused a shiver to run down your spine; they screamed carnage.

You and Xiaojun both jumped as Jeno sheathed the knife in his left hand into his thigh holster, the ear-grating sound bringing you back down to the harsh reality of your near-death experience.

“The others should be on their way any minute. Let’s go.” 

Hendery spoke again and pointed downward with his crossbow at Giselle’s lifeless body, signaling for Jeno to carry her now.

The blonde obeyed, but not without a  furrowed brow as he bent down to gather the fresh corpse.

You were sure his disgruntled expression was due to his brunette counterpart taking away his kill, and a part of you knew that his method of disposal would have been way more barbaric than Hendery’s. 

You felt sick to your stomach to admit that maybe Giselle didn’t suffer too much of an agonizing death, as an arrow to the heart was the quickest way to an end.

Jeno loves the thrill of a chase. Once he has his sights on you, his frenzy doesn’t stop… 

The warning that your own mother gave you stuck ever since she first told you. And it all made sense now: Giselle was part of the hunt.

The last you would ever see of her, was a delicate, lifeless body slumped over Jeno’s shoulders as the two brothers walked back the way they came. 

The two of you could’ve stayed hidden in the trees forever, passing the time by staring at the way the grass moved in the wind. Especially now that you had to face the aftermath of being found after such little time.

Xiaojun’s arms slowly unwrapped around your body, falling onto the branch in defeat.

You couldn’t help but fight back more tears as you looked back at him, eventually failing as you saw how red his own eyes were.

“What did they mean by “be here any minute?” 

You asked in a trembling tone, voice slightly breaking from the sobs that overtook your chords.

“I fear they’ll stay close by for a while, but maybe it’s a chance we’ll have to take to see what’s going on.”

His cool breath touched your lips as he spoke, and you could only give a nod. No amount of talking could take away the pain you felt. 

The two of you cautiously exited the trees, remaining in your shrunken size to stay undetected. 

You gave one last look at the grass below you, soaking in Giselle’s blood that splattered onto the now-soiled greenery. 

Xiaojun led the way, choosing to duck behind the trees along the clearing, as you did the same.

The area seemed too quiet now…

The wisp of arrows no longer filled the air, and the crashing of what sounded like housing structures were no longer drowned out by the screams of your family and friends.

Considering the two of you purposefully ventured out past the village limits, it seemed like hours before you reached the entrance to your once-forever home.

The destruction seemed picture-perfect to what your elders had experienced in the past.

Xiaojun reached behind to interlock your fingers with his as you both approached the gates. You could only let your wings carry you now, barely reacting to his physicality…the numbness had become too overbearing. 

No sign of life could be caught within your sights, only smoke and dwindling flames littered the landscape.  

Houses were barely standing, with sunken ceilings and crumbling timber.

Could everyone truly be dead? Even your parents?

You tried your best to peek over Xiaojun’s shoulder, trying as best as you both could to find your respective homes. And considering how small the two of you were now, the billows proved to be difficult terrain. You both covered your faces in defense of the embers, fending off the irritation to your eyes.

Xiaojun was the first to look towards what was left of your home, eventually dragging you along despite your best efforts to protect your eyes.

Upon stopping and hovering in front of your disheveled porch, it was obvious your parents were gone; though you didn’t want to think about the manner in which they were gone. 

You couldn’t even bring yourself to rummage through the chunks of burnt siding, as every piece was scorching hot to the touch.

“Why even fucking bother?” 

Your anger began to overshadow your grief, and despite the fumes emanating off the burnt mahogany, you kicked at what remained of the entryway.  

Images of your parents flashed through your brain; undoubtedly giving it their all to fight back, not even caring that they would ultimately fail against them. 

They never thought about the aftermath of their bravery…going out in glory seemed like the best way to go.

Xiaojun could only choke back tears as he hovered beside you, knowing that no amount of condolences would render you healed. He wasn’t a ghost to this kind of pain either.

You were there for him when his parents found their end at the hands of the hunters years prior.

And he knew he had to do the same for you. 

“I’m sorry…” Xiaojun sniffled with a squeeze of your hand. You met his bloodshot eyes, blinking away yet another tear. 

Your focus soon shifted past your best friend, as your eyes drifted over to a familiar piece of pink flower nestled under a heap of singed plywood. 

Xiaojun noticed, and followed closely behind as you flew over to your discovery. 

Somehow saved from the flames, was Giselle’s flower crown. 

You steadied the speed at which your wings fluttered to keep the smoke at bay, and in one fell swoop of your hand, you held onto the only remnant of your dear friend. 

Maybe this is why your kind wore these, not only as a form of self expression, but for moments like this. So anyone gone, would never be forgotten.   

“We should go…” 

You were sure it pained him as much as it did you to not give a valid response to his shared grief, but staying here out in the open was suicide. You clutched onto the Dahlia flower crown as the two of you flew south, with no real destination in mind.  

Maybe a change of scenery or something less-desolate would clear your head. 

—

Jeno tried his hardest not to tear a muscle in his jaw as he clenched down with every exhale. 

He was left fuming ever since the end of their hunt. 

He knew why Hendery intervened, and the thought of someone trying to control his methods disgusted him.

It didn’t even matter if that certain someone was his own brother.

No one got in the way of his kill.

Although he wanted to body slam Hendery into the ground, all thoughts of getting his vengeance were cut short as Yuta and Sungchan were arriving to help load the bodies. The brothers were waiting just outside the village in a clearing, with high hopes that more fairies would cross paths with them in the process. 

Jeno passed the time by tossing his knife up and down in the air, purposefully avoiding conversation with his brother to bring more tension into the air. It worked somehow, with Hendery only kicking a few pebbles along the dirt instead of discussing how uneventful their slaughter was. 

Yuta and Sungchan eventually drove up in the shared sport utility vehicle courtesy of Johnny, that had definitely seen better days: waves of mud caked along the fender from transporting bodies to buyers all over the county, along with a few specks of dried blood on the front tire rims from a raccoon Hendery hit the other day.

The fellow hunters skidded along the rough terrain with the help of four wheel drive, successfully parking in front of the pile where only four fairies lay stacked on top of each other.

The sun was beginning to set along the distant horizon, seeming faster as the entire land lay nestled on a hill. That still didn’t stop the golden hour from illuminating the-now blackened blood painted along their lifeless bodies, even decorating a few of their ruined flower crowns like black ink.

Yuta was the first to exit the driver's seat, putting out his cigarette in the portable ashtray just beneath the car stereo. Sungchan followed suit, but not without towering over his comrade as they came to a stop to view the brother’s labor. 

“I feel like there should be way more than this…” 

Yuta’s crimson locks swayed in the breeze as he broke the silence, eyes darting from the bodies, then to the blonde, then to the brunette. 

He was sure such a statement would tick Jeno off, who’s excess pride always managed to bring home the most kills. 

“There’s definitely more out there. I saw a handful scatter south.” Hendery tilted his head in the direction as he kicked the final pebble over towards the pile of bodies.  

“Yeah well if you didn’t get in the way half the time, I would’ve gotten them.” 

Jeno spat as he sheathed the bowie knife back into his thigh holster. His dissatisfied expression only grew as Hendery scoffed in response. 

“What, you have nothing to say?” Jeno finally looked over to him, who’s tongue-in-cheek appearance was almost the final straw to his mania. 

“Can we just load these up already?” 

Sungchan, the timid pacifist, was the only one to stick to the task at hand, bending down to gather one of the bloodied corpses.

Yuta walked over to open the trunk as he texted Johnny with an update.

They each gathered one with ease, and despite being in their full size at death, all four managed to fit with a few pronounced shoves.

“Seems you went easy on them this time Jen…” Yuta took one final glance at the trunk, making sure Jeno heard his side comment before closing it. Based on the way Jeno slammed the rear passenger door, he succeeded. 

Yuta couldn’t help but light yet another cigarette as he put the car in reverse, even offering one to Jeno and Hendery who both declined with a shake of their head. 

It would take at least forty minutes before they reached headquarters, and anything to diffuse the obvious tension was worth a try.

— 

You subconsciously thanked whatever God that your kind didn’t need food and water as often as the humans who co-inhabited this earth.

If you did, the hunger and dehydration would’ve befallen you a long time ago. 

Neither you nor Xiaojun had eaten anything since the attack. 

It was now dark, and based on the abundance of nocturnal animals scouring about, it had to be late.

And unfortunately, the smell of petrichor began to fill your noses. 

Rain was definitely not your best friend while in this size or without proper shelter.

“Let’s stop here before it starts pouring.” Xiaojun guided you over to yet another tree, choosing to fly high up along the weeping willow for extra protection. 

He had become so steadfast in a small amount of time, and you were sure it was because of his familiarity with this type of tragedy. 

At least he was holding himself together better than you were. 

Each time you glanced down at Giselle’s crown, you couldn’t help but tear up. And the thought of potentially finding more along your journey scared you.  

Just as you nestled yourselves within the leaves, the rain began to pour and soon came the thunder.

Regardless of mother nature’s wrath, the comforting sound of raindrops hitting every leaf soothed away your stressors, as it did for Xiaojun. And not soon after, you found yourself laying back into his body for added warmth. 

He welcomed your embrace, and let his head rest on top of yours as the two of you tried to drift off to sleep.

Giselle’s crown never let you, perched just above as some sort of guardian that you hoped would watch over you for a lifetime.

“I love you.” 

Xiaojun’s whisper stirred you from your near distant slumber, and as you rose your head up, you found your lips just millimeters away from his own. 

“I love you too…”

—

2 years ago

—

“Sorry to cut the training short but I need everyone in my office now.” 

Johnny’s stone cold appearance into the gymnasium-sized training room caused everyone to freeze in place. Even YangYang, the newest recruit, had a hint of worry in his eye from what his boss could possibly want at this time of day.

The new offensive tactic he was learning from Hendery felt too liberating to be interrupted.

Nonetheless, all five hunters dropped their practice weapons, and began following through the halls of their headquarters. Jeno walked close behind, exuding annoyance with every step, followed by Hendery, Yuta, Sungchan, and YangYang, who all seemed less vexed. 

“Fresh meat” as Yuta liked to call the newest recruit, found the Brutalist architecture of the entire headquarters difficult to get used to. Nothing felt welcoming, but what could he expect from a group of ruthless hunters who’s only form of entertainment were killing or training? 

YangYang hoped that maybe he was jumping to conclusions, and that maybe they actually engaged in more leisure activities.

Eventually they made it to Johnny’s office. YangYang mentally recalled the first time he ever saw it, back when he was interviewed.  

Not much self-expression, or color for that matter; only strange and usual murals of taxidermied animals, and a few plaques of outstanding achievements in “Guerilla Warfare.”

The newest hunter felt awkward in the sea of black, not knowing if he seemed “lazy” for wanting to sit in one of the two chairs positioned in front of the carbon grey desk. Though, his pondering was short lived as Hendery and Yuta swiftly shoved between him to claim the only two seats.

Everyone except Jeno stayed in direct view of their boss, instead opting to lean against the wall with a few kicks to the fine carpet below. YangYang could already tell from his fifth day here that his blonde-haired comrade was the hothead of the group, intimidatingly so. 

“I called this meeting to discuss our sales…they’re unacceptable.” 

If only YangYang had known that this wasn’t the usual topic of a meeting, nor was it a common issue, though he did notice that everyone had their undivided attention, especially considering Johnny’s succinct tone. 

Yet there was a hint of relief in the hunter’s exhale, as there was no way he attributed to whatever poor sales his boss was referring to, when he’s only been here for less than a week.  

“I wanted to wait and see if maybe there was a mistake in my counts before pulling you all out of training, but it’s quite obvious that we’re down 20%.” 

Based on the way Sungchan and Hendery dropped their heads, the news was transparently bad. And despite the amount of bodies in the room, the atmosphere grew cold in the span of a heartbeat. 

“I don’t understand, we’ve killed thousands. How is that bringing us down?” 

Yuta was the first to speak after what seemed like minutes; eventually sparing the room of awkward silence. He leaned forward in his seat with intrigue, ultimately showing concern that was shared across everyone’s faces. 

“Precisely. It’s not the numbers, it’s the method.”

Johnny leaned far back in his chair with a cross of his hands over his abdomen—typical posture for someone trying to keep their composure.  

Was there confusion? Definitely. So much so that Hendery finally raised his head with a dumbfounded expression which might’ve garnered a slap from his displeased boss, though the thickness of his chestnut bangs spared him of the reprimand. 

“With each receipt that I get, there’s been a pattern...some sort of complaint.” 

Johnny paused to grab the binder in the corner of his desk that housed all of the “receipts”, eventually flipping it open to show the large stack that could barely stay organized due to the lightweight paper.

“Specimen AG — parts not salvageable due to maiming of thoracic cage and surrounding viscera…

Specimen BH — parts not salvageable due to debasement of intestines, including prolapse…”

The list seemed to go on and on—fifty pages worth to be exact, and it wasn’t until Johnny read the sixth one that the group of hunters finally caught on to the stress brewing within his chords.

“There’s a reason we don’t use bombs or any explosives, but based on the condition of these bodies, doesn’t fucking matter if we do!”

Johnny slammed the binder shut; seeming to resort back to his previous posture with equanimity. 

His voice barely above a shout, surely to get louder if no one spoke up soon.  

“But there’s one thing I won’t do, and that’s babysit. I have way too many important things to take care of while you guys are out there. So you all need to tell me what’s going on.”

“I might have a clue…” 

YangYang’s peripherals shifted to Hendery, who was the second to speak with a brief raise of his fore and middle finger. 

“I don’t think it helps that there’s someone in this room that likes to go overboard with their methods.”

YangYang was the only one to scan the room for the person in question, and eventually his suspicion bloomed upon setting his sights on Jeno.

He would never forget his first day hunting, nor would he forget the lingering smirk that painted Jeno’s face with every kill. 

Each fairy met their end in the most gruesome way possible, and somehow even his own brother had less sadistic methods to his madness. 

Limbs torn, torso’s gutted, throats ripped…

That was one way for Jeno to distinguish himself from the more quick and painless deaths of his counterparts. 

Easily…

“You piece of shit…” 

Jeno’s bark was just as hefty at his bite, and snapped YangYang out of his recollection. 

Thankfully his laconic response was towards Hendery. 

“I should’ve known.” 

Johnny produced a heavy sigh as he leaned forward to put his head in his hands. 

“Jeno you’re one of the best hunters i’ve ever known, you and your brother both. But you can’t do this. I’ve had countless buyers not only documenting but telling me that the parts are too mutilated…”

Johnny’s tone surprisingly stayed neutral, but the disappointment in his face didn’t falter.  

“Why criticize me for doing what we are trained to do?” 

Though Jeno remained still against the wall, it was evident his fists were clenched inside the pockets of his combat pants to resist the urge to punish his brother for “snitching.”

“They can’t possibly buy that junk Jeno!”

“Okay, next time I’ll just sit out and let everyone do the work then.”

Jeno’s solution to the problem was only a smart-ass response, one that tensed the room more than it already was. 

“Everyone seems to understand but you…”

—

Present

—

[0900]

Two hours of laying in bed with his eyes open when he could’ve been doing something more productive ate away at Jeno’s soul. 

Perhaps the best way to take his mind off the disappointment from yesterday’s hunt would be to train, even better if he could do it alone.

Considering it was still early, he was sure that could be arranged.

He couldn’t stand to hear the soft “tick” of the analog clock any longer, eventually rising up and navigating across the dimly lit bedroom; being especially mindful of YangYang’s crutches that lay in between their separate beds.  

Just a few weeks ago he sprained his ankle while training with Yuta, and never heard the end of it from the red-haired bully. The teasing was warranted, as his clumsiness made him miss out on the second hunt of his career. 

Before YangYang was recruited, Jeno was lucky enough to have a room by himself, but for the past two years he’s had to share. And despite his constant gripes with Johnny over that decision, there had been no changes in his room and board. 

Thankfully, YangYang wasn’t as much of a headache as he thought he would be. 

Just as Jeno reached for the doorknob, he was interrupted from YangYang’s awakening. 

“How was yesterday?” 

His groggy morning voice was a far-cry from his more upbeat tone that tended to blossom throughout the day. 

“You didn’t miss much.”

Jeno refrained from turning his head to address YangYang’s curiosity, and as a result, missed the frown that littered his face.

“Guess that makes me feel a bit better about being a klutz then.”

YangYang had grown accustomed to Jeno’s uninterested personality and expected nothing in return: no reassurance nor words of encouragement, but it still left him feeling cold as Jeno exited the bedroom with a harsh slam of the door. 

—

After freshening up in the bathroom, Jeno eventually walked through the maze of minimally designed hallways, with the constant reminder of how the entire building matched his current mood—arid, dull, and grey.

The gymnasium was just off in the distance and past Johnny’s office, which he suspected to be empty.

But to Jeno’s surprise, it was occupied by not only his boss, but an unfamiliar person. 

Their voices still seemed hushed to a low volume as Jeno decided to pause just past the partially open door. The brief glance Jeno gave in between wielded a weak observation of the boy, but just enough to know that there was no way he could survive here—he looked barely old enough to even drive. 

“Even though you still have yet to gain experience in the realm of hunting, I think you’ll be a great new addition to the team Jisung. We have plenty of approachable people here who would be more than happy to assist you on your learning curve.”

“Such a relief to hear that.”

The voice matched the ingenuous appearance of the boy, and somehow Jeno already had an irked nerve creep under his skin from the thought of gaining a new inexperienced “co-worker.”

“Due to tight restrictions on sales and making sure everyone gets equal pay, you’ll probably be the last hire, but I'll make sure we get you trained to expectations in no time.”

Last hire? 

Jeno immediately fell into the depths of suspicion. 

There was only one possible meaning in Jeno’s eyes: and the answer was replacement. 

The mere thought of deception plagued the mind of the seasoned hunter, and to such a degree that he could’ve easily torn down the door and stormed in to give both of them hell. 

If anyone saw Jeno now, they would see a raged monster—veins pulsed along his arms and down to his fists where he aimed to punch the wall nearest to him. The impact from his knuckle to the grey wall proved to be successful, and no amount of sting could’ve prevented him from giving another punch. 

Of course they heard it. And he didn’t want to stick around to see their faces when they came out to check. The self- control Jeno possessed, would ultimately spare the two of his wrath. 

The thought of training no longer sounded appealing; only real damage…real blood, could diffuse his anger. 

And no one could stop him from killing the way he wanted to. 

Not even his own brother, that just so happened to unveil himself from his shared room with Yuta. 

Hendery was just beginning to start his day, having already decided to sharpen his crossbow arrows, as training with them weakened the aluminum overtime.

He heard the loud “thud” just as he opened his bedroom door, and to his surprise, Jeno was storming off in the direction of the courtyard.

Something had to have bothered him, especially to the point that a large dent was made into the plastered wall on the other side of Johnny’s office.

Did he have an impromptu meeting? 

As Hendery began to jog towards his impetuous brother, he heard the creak of the office door, but couldn’t bother to look back at who appeared from inside.  

“Jeno! What’s going on?” 

His call yielded no response, and it seemed like miles before he got in arms reach of him.   

Just like Hendery predicted, Jeno made it to the frosted glass doors of the courtyard, violently pushing them open to the point of almost cracking the inorganic material. 

Hendery managed to lunge forward, ignoring the voices of Sungchan and Yuta in the distance as he cupped the back of Jeno’s shoulder.

“What the fuck’s going on?! Stop!” 

Without conscious thought, Hendery’s reflexes erupted from the center of his body, branching out towards his limbs to forge protection from the sudden backhand Jeno tried to give with his left hand. Hendery adjusted his footing to keep from falling backwards, but it seemed that he had to be one step ahead to handle Jeno’s blind rage. 

Sungchan and Yuta halted side-by-side, just in time to see Jeno practically attacking his own brother, with the first strike barely missing, though another seemed to be winding up from his right hand.  

“What could you possibly do, huh? I’m getting fucking replaced!” 

Sungchan was the first to look at Yuta with confusion as they heard Jeno’s explosive response. Even from their position at the doors, they could see every contour of Jeno’s muscles contract along his arms, with veins bulging against both sides of his temple as he seemed to hold back a snarl. 

Regardless, the two hunters felt relieved to know they weren’t the ones trying to console an absolute maniac. 

They knew better. 

“What the hell?” 

Within minutes of the brawl, a flurry of bodies appeared at the door. Johnny rushed down the steps after uttering his shock, followed by Jisung—and in the process of his first appearance, earned a scoff from Yuta as he brushed past. YangYang was the last to reach the ensemble, teeming with frustration at his inability to get accustomed to his crutches. 

If any outsider saw the scene before them, they would question if there was any proper authority amongst a group of murderous men. 

“Jeno! You have to stop!” 

No amount of pleas from Johnny could tear the two brothers apart. And whether or not it was to make a good first impression, Jisung lunged into action to separate them both as best as he could.

With the assistance of Johnny, who was undoubtedly stronger than the three combined, the heavy strikes to each other's bodies eventually ceased…followed by bruised cheeks, puffed lips, and labored breaths that flooded the hostile climate. 

Clearly, Jisung made the mistake of keeping his hands glued to Jeno’s shoulders as he rose from the dark granite rocks, shoving away the unwarranted contact. 

“After all these years of me outperforming everyone you’ve ever known, you’re going to throw me away?” 

He spat in Johnny’s face, even bucking towards him without shame before turning his attention back to Jisung. It was clear that Jeno wasn’t done, and Hendery’s intuition seemed to outshine everyone as he noticed his brother gearing up for another strike. Maybe it was the fact they were both bound by blood, as the two were always one step ahead of each other’s intentions. 

Despite the pain burning at his body, Hendery put himself in between Jeno and Jisung, yet again taking another punch, this time for someone he hadn’t even propely met. 

He took the brute force of Jeno’s knuckles, with plenty of newtons to make him stumble back. 

Jisung barely had time to flinch, but the aftershock left him feeling indebted towards Hendery. 

“I don’t want to lose any of you! If you came to me in private, I would’ve explained, but instead you go absolutely insane thinking he was your replacement?!”

For the first time, Jeno let his fists unclench with a harsh grimace. If it was to hide his disgrace or combat the raging headache, no one would ever know. 

Johnny stepped closer to Jeno, seeking out a valid response, but he was met with an ungracious exit. 

Hendery held onto his aching cheek as he watched Jeno walk away, presumably to never come back. 

His final act of longing to reach for his brother was interrupted as Johnny spoke,

“Just let him go…”

The entire courtyard turned to silence as Jeno pushed past his two comrades at the door, eventually disappearing in the adjacent hallway. 

Jisung was surprised to find that even after all of the chaos, Johnny remained calm. How? 

—

“Xiaojun…Xiaojun wake up! Do you hear that?” 

Off into the distance and below the same tree you both had been sleeping in for the past night, you heard the sound of flapping wings. 

Through the breeze, you couldn’t discern if they were from your kind or an animal, but you desperately needed a second set of ears to assist with your discovery.

After rubbing your companion’s arm, he finally awoke, albeit at a snail’s pace. The flapping stopped just as he stretched his upper body, and it didn’t take a genius to realize your disappointment.

But there again, you heard the high frequency sound of those same wings down below. 

This time Xiaojun heard it, and even his eyes grew an astonishing amount,

“I hear multiple sets of wings…do you?” 

Maybe his advanced hearing fared better than yours considering your lack of proper rest, but after concentrating enough with closed eyes, you heard it too.

“We should go check.”

You wondered if Xiaojun felt like risking his life yet again, but if this was anything like you hoped, then there was a better chance of survival with more than just two to a team.

He agreed with a subtle nod, and stayed close behind as you both crept towards the edge of the weeping willow. 

You paused before going any further, deciding to reach back and grab Giselle’s crown as it was practically your security blanket. 

Once you reached a safe distance, you scanned the twilight sky for any signs of aerial life. But that observation was soon forgotten as four pairs of living bodies were flying across the fescue grass. 

Myrtle, Canna, Red Flax, and Black Pansy rested atop each of their heads and you immediately recognized them.

Karina, Jaemin, Renjun, and Winter. 

You clutched Giselle’s crown close to your chest as you dove towards them, almost forgetting that Xiaojun was right behind you. 

Their hearing proved to be just as fruitful, as they each turned in the direction of your swift flight. 

Their faces, lighting up just as bright as the peeking sun over the horizon, gave you all of the strength in the world. They seemed to be alive and most importantly well considering the disaster that befell the community just two days ago. 

No words were spoken, just tears of relief as an assembly line of embraces filled the atmosphere.

Due to your excitement, you didn’t notice that they too had flower crowns, with Karina being the one to carry all three. 

Chenle, Ten, and NingNing. 

You felt a tight squeeze on your heart as you eyed the only evidence of their unforgettable beauty, but to see remnants of their existence was more than enough closure. 

Winter was the first to speak as you hugged her last, 

“I can’t believe you both are here! I’ve been crying ever since we made it out.”

She kept one hand on your shoulder as she used the other to rid the tear trailing past her chin. 

The abundance of emotions even managed to make Jaemin tear up, as he was someone who never cried. 

Karina seemed to keep her eyes trained on Giselle’s crown nestled in your hand, and as her lip began to quiver, you immediately rushed over to hug her again.

The two were inseparable—sisters who never missed the opportunity to experience life’s wonders together. 

You knew no amount of words would take away the pain, but you hoped that your affection would forge an era of healing. 

Based on her steady heartbeat and the collective encircle everyone decided to share, you knew it would happen eventually. 

“Have any of you seen my parents?” 

You waited until the group hug dispersed before asking, as you needed a solid look at each of their faces for any signs of an answer.  

The silence was deafening, but unfortunately more than enough to answer your question.

“I can barely recall what happened. Everything seemed like a blur…” 

Renjun’s statement garnered a collective nod. Nonetheless, you simply appreciated their existence as it didn’t seem like there was much left. 

—

Jeno had finally found a reason to keep going.

There, in a clearing upon chance, was the source of his thirst.  

Had the fight with his brother not happened, he would’ve missed the six fairies huddled in a circle amongst the teff grass. 

They seemed delighted in their reunion, albeit shaken up from recent events. 

Despite Jeno’s lack of supernatural abilities, he could still sense the wariness looming over their pitiful bodies…he could still feel the magnetic pull that drove him to be their absolute nightmare.  

If he was a dog, he would be salivating, shamelessly so. 

Ever since storming away from the courtyard, Jeno rushed back inside towards the training room to grab all of his signature weapons, along with any other utilities that would be of good use for his inevitable soul-searching. 

Considering Sungchan was quite intimidated by him, he doubted the tall lanky hunter would mind if he took some of his homemade smoke bombs.

Might as well make use of what’s here…

Jeno had a feeling he wouldn’t be able to go back home, especially now that he saw you. 

An absolute spectacle, perfect to use as an example of why your race was so  weak…so obsolete. 

Maybe it was the way you cautiously scanned the clearing ever so often, or the way you tugged at your opposite forearm to calm your nerves. 

Nothing stood out more than your doe eyes—even more gratifying if he was the reason they widened in fear. 

He clearly missed the opportunity to see that fiery emotion the first time he scoured your home. 

Now he couldn’t let the chance slip away. 

As he readied the smoke bomb in his left hand, his own eyes shifted into something sinister, like daggers ready to gouge at your delicate figure.  

A toss was all it took to unleash chaos, and though the plume of white smoke covered your initial shock, Jeno knew he would see more of you, eventually.

It was like muscle memory how effortlessly his throwing knives flew through the air, hitting three in quick succession, spurts of scarlet shooting from their collarbones, tainting the ground yet again at the hands of a homicidal aficionado. 

Their cries of pain were melodic, practically a sextet of symphony that grew louder the closer Jeno got.

Just like he had planned, you were unscathed, attempting to assist one that collapsed from his attack. 

There was something different in the way you gathered your arms to lift him, something special in the way you practically ignored the obvious face of danger to make sure he felt your presence. 

Jeno wasn’t the only one that noticed—the two that lucked out from the assault called your name, practically begging you to save yourself.

But based on the caresses you gave this frail boy, you would rather die than leave him.

How was it possible that a surge of jealousy brewed within his chest just as quickly as your selflessness?

—

Jaemin and Karina continued to shout your name as they made their way towards the weeping willow trees. 

Besides them, you were the last one standing.  

Every hit replayed in your mind upon impact.

Renjun, Winter, Xiaojun—with every blink, their bodies flailed from the sheer power of the flying daggers. The wisp of each knife was just too fast for your hearing.

You couldn’t let your world stop, not with Xiaojun gasping for air as the knife protruded from his neck. He needed you, and even if he didn’t survive, you begged him to be the last person you saw.

“I’m r-right here!” 

You attempted to wrap your arms around his upper body to drag him away, but each attempt only garnered more of a struggle. 

Specks of blood continued to paint his eyelids, with blotches of purple spreading where the knife lay buried. 

The only sounds that managed to escape Xiaojun’s quivering lips were labored sobs, and the determination to reassure him began to crumble beneath your feet. 

All thoughts of an escape melted away as you heard the sheath of a knife coming out of a holster.

—

Your eyes fluttered open just as fast as your wings, though there seemed to be something restricting the full momentum at which you could generate flight.

The feeling of cold metal gave you chills all throughout your body, and the realization of where you were made you feel even colder.

You were full size, surely because the stress you endured however long ago was too much for your body to endure. And somehow, there was a cage large enough to fit you as you hung from the ceiling like a lantern. 

You gave up on trying to keep your wings stimulated as it constantly hit the black steel bars holding you hostage. None of that mattered anymore as you took in the setting before you. 

A wooden shack, rusted tools leaning against the walls, and the same dome-shaped cages hanging from the ceiling, with your friends inside. 

They each had their own confines, but the only thing separating them from you was the lack of movement and familiar pulses within their chest. 

You slammed your eyes shut to focus on any signs of a heartbeat in case your eyes were deceiving you. 

Your hearing was substantial enough to catch two—Renjun and Xiaojun.  

It only took a second for your eyes to flood with tears as you realized Winter was silent…no sign of life in her once-rosy cheeks, no luster to her auburn strands, no apparent warmth to her skin.  

Everything was cold.

And the only lasting memory you would have was her body slumped in the cage—eyes staring blank towards the exit that was so close, yet so far. 

Jaemin and Karina were nowhere to be found in the garage-sized space, but you hoped to whatever god that they managed to escape. 

If they had, they were the last ones left.

There was no ounce of hope in your survival.

“Renjun! Xiaojun! Wake up…please!” 

Your hushed cries were just enough to wake Renjun as he lay cramped in the cage. He was slightly larger than you in stature, so you could only imagine how uncomfortable he felt as his wings failed to even twitch inside the metal bars.

He grimaced before raising his hand to touch the wound on his collarbone. Blood has pooled underneath his Victorian blouse, ruining the once pearl-colored fabric.

The dagger was out, and thankfully his body generated enough clotting to seal off the gash. The same could be said for Xiaojun too.

He shifted once more before scanning the room, eventually settling upon your crying eyes.

“Where are we?”

He choked up the same curiosity your own mind had garnered, though your wishes for a proper answer were slim to none. 

“I don’t know…just please try and wake Xiaojun!” 

Renjun was closest to him, merely centimeters away.

Just as he slivered his arm through the bars to shake at Xiaojun’s shoulder, he froze upon seeing Winter.

Your eyes whirled over in the same direction, but you regretted every blink spent on viewing her lifeless body; you were sure Renjun felt the same. The pain emanating from his expression told you so.

As he fought through his blurry vision, you focused your attention back on Xiaojun, who miraculously began to shift within the cage. 

Despite his brutal awakening, you couldn’t help but marvel at how beautiful he remained through all the chaos.  

He winced from the stinging in his collarbone, blaring his ivory teeth that were just as bright as the moon, and just like Renjun, he too was stained all over.

The way his eyes immediately fell upon you would’ve made any flame last for an eternity. 

You would give your life for him.

The chance to do it would be soon, crashing down like a comet that would scorch your entire body in a blaze.  

A few clicks of what you assumed to be locks chimed throughout the room, and  there standing in the oak doorway was the end to your existence. 

Jeno.

To no surprise, he stilled in the door frame with heartless eyes, gleaming with the satisfaction of his catch.

He captured four of you on his own and could’ve easily taken two more. 

He stood in silence for what felt like fifty pendulum ticks, probably deciding how to execute each of you. 

Regardless of the fact that you were his prey, and prey were never meant to stare into the eyes of their predator, you couldn’t look away.

You had gotten a good look at him when his brother killed Giselle, but seeing him in this state made all the more difference to the stories your family told of him. 

He stood in similar black attire, with plenty of tactical accessories to compliment his status as a hunter—a knife holster on his left thigh, a belt assembled with the same smoke bombs he used earlier, and a few throwing knives tucked into an ankle holster on his right side.

There was a reason he was the most brutal one of them all. 

It didn’t take a lot to kill your kind, but it made his job more enjoyable if every method imaginable could be used.

Your trailing eyes proved to be a mistake, and your upcoming death all the more damning because of how flawless he appeared in front of you. 

His looks were even more deadly up close. Your eyes could’ve melted in their sockets at the sight of his sharp jawline, or even his cheekbones that heightened the electricity of his blue eyes. 

Maybe dying at the hands of someone so unbearably perfect would make the sequence into the afterlife a little less daunting.   

It was just a shame he wouldn’t make it quick. 

Finally you closed your eyes, only using your hearing to verify that his footsteps were coming towards your own personal cage. 

Your entire body flinched as you heard him unlock it and swing the door back, the gust of air rustling your eyelashes, forcing you to open your eyes wide.

He barely had to maneuver his body to wrap one hand around your entire waist, pulling you out of the cage like you were a feather from an owl.

You were nowhere comparable in size to him—the entire length of your body was easily a difference of a foot or more but your attention to those details were the least of your worries. 

The aroma of bergamot and cedarwood filled your nose, stemming from his neck and chest. Each beat of his pulse seemed to push the scent further into your senses, intoxicating enough to distract you from the fact he slammed you into the adjacent wall.

Your entire head recoiled against the weathered hardwood, causing your vision to multiply. It wasn’t until you felt his calloused hand wrap around your throat and lift you meters above the floor, that your sights finally settled. 

The cyan in his eyes had shifted to cobalt, though the diameter of color seemed to disperse as his pupils dilated. It was enough to make you wince, but showing fear would only fuel more desire.

“Please don’t…” 

You barely heard Xiaojun’s sniffled cries in the background, as the trance Jeno put you in was too much to decipher anything else. 

He continued to speak for you, but it didn’t seem to garner any second thoughts in Jeno’s mind.

You wished to be some sort of sacrifice; a guaranteed exit for what was left of your friends. There had to be something you could do to warrant that. 

The only other possibility was actually right in front of you, though you shuddered at the thought of breaking such a promise.

You were never one to plead for your life, but that seemed to be the only viable option to please the sadist in front of you.

With one final gulp that seemed to get caught in between his palm and continue down into your stomach, you brought up your hands to wrap around his own. 

His snarl only grew more intense as he watched, and there you saw a beast unleashing.

You opened your quivering lips, making a pitiful attempt at appearing even more pathetic than you already were.

“Take me…not them.” 

Just as you expected, he forced you forward by your neck, only to slam you back against the wall. It was definitely rougher than before, enough to make your brain feel like it would pop out of your skull. 

This time he stepped forward, using his chiseled thigh to separate your twisted legs.

His face was merely millimeters away from your own, and the coolness of his breath hit your lips like a blizzard.

You wondered why he didn’t verbally challenge your need for survival, but the reason was evident once you felt his groin make contact with your torso. 

He let his length speak for him. 

And with every squirm that you gave, it  continued to twitch under the confines of his combat pants. 

What you assumed to be the tip poked right underneath your breasts, and with that came the realization of how minuscule your kind truly was in comparison to his. 

Your eyes attempted to follow his other hand as he reached for his prized bowie knife attached to his left thigh. The brief yet ominous sound of it being unsheathed caused Xiaojun and Renjun to rustle in their cages.  

From where you were positioned, you could see Xiaojun just past Jeno’s shoulders. 

During this entire ordeal, you kept your eyes away from him, as the indignity of the situation was too much for your soul to bear. But now that it seemed your death was near, it was only right that you gave Xiaojun one final look of goodbye.  

You shifted your eyes over to the one person that remained with you through it all. 

Through your peripherals you could see the glimmering metal rush towards you, but instead of feeling a sharp twinge of pain, you felt a rush of cold. 

You could hear Xiaojun and Renjun’s breath hitch from afar as they both realized too that you were completely bare in front of them. Your clothes had flown off to the side, shredded from the sharpness of his trusted blade. 

Despite the coolness in the air, the warmth emanating from your core served as an invitation for the monster prodding at your stomach. 

Your entire body began to tremble uncontrollably, maybe as some sort of coping mechanism for the humiliation brewing deep within.

“Look at me!”

Your teary eyed shifted immediately back over to Jeno as he bellowed out his command, the cluster of veins in his neck shifting as he clenched his teeth. 

Your shaking didn’t seem to help as he positioned the tip of his blade at your collarbone, pressing inward to break the skin. 

“Keep looking…just like that.”

He spoke again, barely above a whisper; his speech matching the slow tempo of the knife being dragged down the centerline of your body.

The pain was nowhere near the worst to be endured, surely it was sharpness of the blade that kept the stinging bearable. 

A trail of blood followed, a fine line that only stopped once the tip of the blade reached your clit. 

You jumped considerably at the contact, which was enough to slice the bundle of nerves if you weren’t careful. 

As you tried to keep your composure, Jeno stared deep at your struggling frame, marveling in the way gravity caused all of the maroon fluid to pool around your warm mound. 

“Did you think I would kill you so soon?”

Any means of a response were thwarted as he tossed his knife to the floor. 

You were shocked, as that seemed to be his most prized possession, but in mere seconds you realized why.

In two swift motions he finally let go of your throat, leaving you to stumble onto your feet and gain a few recovering breaths. You weren’t even sure how to stand on your own two feet anymore, as you’d grown so accustomed to being one with the atmosphere, flying so freely before any of this mess started.  

Your chances at running towards your friends to set them free were all in vain as you heard the harsh sound of a zipper and belt clasp being undone. 

The sight of his cock snapping out of his briefs was enough to make you press your back as far back into the wall as you could. 

His length stood upright, with a glistening tip that managed to refract in the dimly lit room.

Time seemed to go slow as you watched his veins continue to pulse blood throughout his cock, keeping it just as red as your flushed cheeks. 

Precum dripped like a broken faucet with a distinct patter as it continued to hit the ground just as fast as your racing heartbeat. 

Your knees buckled as he used one hand to spread the clear liquid throughout his shaft in a slick up and down motion. 

He seemed to be sensitive already as he bucked into his own hand, trying his hardest to keep his self-pleasure to a minimum. 

You looked down to your feet to see that there were two puddles on the floor, one of your blood and one of his essence. 

The way they attempted to mix together kept your senses distracted, completely missing that Jeno stepped up to you with his pants at the ground and his tight shirt pushed up to his muscular chest. 

Your legs gave out just as he used one hand to grab at your hip, and the other hand to position his cock at your entrance. 

“First time I get to fuck anything like this…”

Your brief pleas of no were cut short at his pistoned inside you without warning, attempting to tear you apart without sympathy. The guttural groan he produced from his evil chords echoed throughout the room, bouncing off the walls louder than your friends screams.  

There was no way to respond to that, or to any of his actions for that matter. Not when you were being stuffed full, way past your limit. 

All you could do was cry out at the pressure as he came to a standstill. 

His mouth hung open in complete awe…somehow through his infliction of pain, you were wet. 

And the addition of your blood made the entry all the more gratifying.

He was barely a few inches inside, but he was already touching your cervix, and the bulge present in your stomach confirmed it.

Burning began to surge throughout your core even as he stood still to try and accommodate more for himself. 

“You can’t—nngh it’s too much!”

If he continued any further, you weren’t sure you would be able to voice your horror any longer. 

He was too enveloped in how tight you were to care; the pleasure way above anything he’s ever killed.

Your attempts to lift off his cock only made the burning grow and eventually, earned you more inches to try and take.

Now, both hands were on either side of your hips with a death grip strong enough to leave bruised handprints on either side.

You had no choice but to wrap both legs around his waist to alleviate some of the pressure. 

It wasn’t long before his groin finally made contact with yours, and shockingly you were able to breathe through all of the discomfort as he seated himself one final time.

The only thing keeping you grounded to reality was the continuous blood that seeped from your sternum and the grunts coming from Jeno’s drooling mouth as he began rocking into you at a steady pace.

You had long forgotten the others in the room—you couldn’t focus on that now or else you would go into shock. 

But it seemed the more rhythm and sounds that grew between your connecting bodies, the more inclined Jeno was to remind you of your broken state. 

You hoped the pleasure building within your core was strong enough to overshadow your guilt…the way he continued to hit every spot within your dripping pussy made you confident enough in that fact. 

Through it all, you couldn’t bring yourself to voice how full you felt. 

Your lips remained pursed together, sometimes even gnawing at the puffed skin to silence the sounds trying to escape your throat. 

It wasn’t until you and Jeno’s eyes met in sync, that a whimper managed to slip. 

Your eyes grew in horror, completely ignoring the skin slapping prodding at both of your ears. 

You failed, but it seemed to fuel every fiber of his being. 

He leaned forward to bury his face into your neck, allowing his tongue to paint a shiny picture along the side of your jawline. 

You whimpered again.

Like the puppet you were, you found your hands having a mind of their own, lifting to rake your fingers through the back of his platinum locks. 

“I could kill everyone you love, but you’ll still beg to take my cock…”

He groaned into your ear, tugging at your lobe for added effect. 

That was enough to feel a wave of disdained euphoria wash over your entire body. 

There was a band that seemed to snap at every nerve ending, causing you to squeeze your walls as tight as you could around his length until you came apart. 

Your back arched involuntarily, finally giving your wings a break from the wooden wall that continued to tear the skin open with every snap of his hips. 

“Fuck!”

He turned his head to roar against your cheek, hips slowly losing their rhythm the more your orgasm continued.

You voiced your displeasure with a whine as you felt him slide out of your weeping hole, only then did you realize that he wasn’t done with you.

He managed to face you to the wall despite how limp your legs were, and within seconds he was inside you again. 

This new position was even more intense than the last. 

Your hands grabbed at any crevice you could find on the wall for support as he drilled into you from behind.

Your eyes shifted down to see your juices splattering past his cum-laden pelvis, eventually mixing where the blood had turned black against the rustic oak floor.

“I’ll just keep you for myself, nothing more than a cock hungry slut…forever alone, taking everything I give you.”

His words stabbed at you worse than any knife. 

It was too late to self-loathe any longer. The deed was long overdue, as his own release was nearing.

You felt those familiar twitches deep inside your torso, coming all the way from his scarlet-covered cock. With one final snap of his hips, heat shot deep into your womb, coating your insides in milky white. The rest pooled against his groin, spilling onto the floor to join the rest of the filth the two of you created.

His animalistic sounds had morphed into more subdued moans that played over and over like a broken vinyl as he came down from his raptured high. 

Every word of caution from your family about Jeno seemed to be nonexistent now, because of you. 

You were nothing more than a toy for him to use. 

His exited you in a single breath, allowing your bruised body to slump onto the floor.

Convulsions soon followed as you felt his juices ooze out of your swollen hole. 

You were catatonic, barely even reacting to how shameless he was in fixing his attire. 

Only your hearing guided you to what he would do next. 

Maybe it was in your favor that your eyes were stuck facing the door, away from the eventual slaughter of your friends. 

You heard Jeno pick up his knife from the floor and walk over to what you presumed to be Renjun’s cage first. 

The rustling of the metal grew just as loud as his hysterical cries.

But there was something else in the distance that you could hear, outside of the cabin. 

Footsteps.  

They grew in speed until a brief stop. 

Luckily you were facing the door, hoping for some sort of savior.

It couldn’t have been Jaemin or Karina, as you would’ve heard the flutter of their wings instead. 

Through your frozen state, only your eyes could widen as you heard the door crash open. 

There standing with frenzied breaths was…Hendery. 

“Jeno I’ve been looking every—”

You watched as he dropped his hands, eyes scanning the sickening scene in front of him. There was a deafening pause, where you hoped the last bit of humanity rested within Hendery. 

You could only listen as he lunged at Jeno with a scream.

“You can’t fucking do this!!!” 

There was an obvious power struggle, enough to knock over various items in the cabin that crashed to the ground, but not enough to make you flinch. 

“Stop!! Jeno—”

Another pause, and this time you heard a knife enter someone’s skin. A rupture of what sounded like muscle tendon rang through your ears, followed by gurgling.

Time seemed to slow down as Xiaojun and Renjun entered your vision. 

Without a second thought, they lifted your broken body into their arms, a collaborative effort considering your current state. 

It was then that you saw the aftermath. 

Jeno was sprawled on the floor in a pool of his own blood, with his knife peeking out of his neck. 

The entire struggle was the claim of a life. But through it all, Hendery had set you all free. 

Your tears seemed to match that of the dark-haired human as he fell to his knees, mourning the loss of his brother by his own hands. 

A lasting memory that was etched into your mind instantly. 

Soon, the smell of petrichor entered your nose and then came the moonlight that illuminated your skin.

As the two of them flew up into the sky, you felt Renjun place Winter and Giselle’s flower crown into your arms as you were carried to freedom. 

—

to read about the lore, click here!

//tagging:

@tddyhyck @tsumuu @devinitysann

@oleoleniall @wingsss45 @onlyoursol-ace @xusbabe @cheyehc @derywinkle

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Aiden scoffed. “I didn’t ask for your opinion,” he snarled back at you. “You’re new here, but I suggest you fall in line. I’m running this thing, alright?”

Your back was up and hot anger was blooming in your chest. You had opened your mouth to respond but suddenly Daryl was already there beside you.

“I suggest ya watch yer goddamn mouth,” he growled back at Aiden. “Ya ain’t got a clue who yer dealin’ with here.” Daryl was posturing at him, and his broad shoulders looked even more intimidating than usual. “If ya can’t talk to Y/N nicely, I can adjust your tone with my fist.”

Aiden tried his hardest to appear steadfast, but he was quailing a little beneath the archer’s sharp glare. “Is that a threat?”

“If ya dun fix yer attitude it’s a fuckin’ promise.”

“Daryl,” you cautioned him. “It’s okay...” You were trying to diffuse the situation.

“Nah, it ain’t,” he tossed over his shoulder back at you. “Nobody should talk to ya like this asshole.”

Being called an asshole apparently was the last straw for Aiden, because he cocked back his fist. Daryl was faster. You winced at the thud and crunch as Daryl’s knuckles met Aiden’s face. He dropped to the ground like a lead anchor.

Daryl shook out his hand and you stepped up next to him, staring down at Aiden’s motionless form. You sighed heavily and glanced over at Daryl.

He scratched at a non-existent itch and shrugged. “I know ya didn’t need me to stand up for ya but... this guy pisses me off.” You nodded. “That sounded awful. Are you sure you didn’t break you hand?” “Nah. Might’a broken his face though. Which—’m fine with.”

You touched Daryl lightly on the arm. “Let’s just go take care of your hand, okay?”

“S’fine.”

“I know, but... just let me.” You gave him a small smile and Daryl felt his cheeks flush. Prompt: “That sounded awful. Are you sure you didn’t break you hand?”

[kedreeva]

You mentioned peafowl are on the higher end of omnivorous fowl species. Do they 'prey on' or act aggressive to other farm birds (ducks, chickens, quails, pigeons, so on)? Do things such as farm fowl breeds or temperament affect those interactions?

They don't attack other adult birds as prey or anything, but I have at least one friend who hen to pen his turkeys because the toms and peacocks would get into bloody fights if not. Mine always got on fine with turkey hens, but I never tried to keep any toms with them.

I used to house my peafowl with some bobwhite quail, because you can do that with chickens and they'll clean up spilled feed the chickens scratch out onto the floor. I saw a few standoffs between the bobwhites and the peafowl, but despite weighing 6 ounces, the bobwhites always held their own because peafowl are weenies sometimes. However, I thought at first the quail were just young, and then that they must certainly be stressed, because I didn't get a single egg all summer..... until I caught Eris horking down a whole quail egg one day, and realized I HAD been getting eggs all summer, the damn peafowl had just been eating them as quick as they'd find them. So the quail got their own pen.

I tried putting a couple of coturnix quail in, instead, since their eggs are bigger and more camouflaged. But the peafowl would have straight up killed the adult birds, since the coturnix don't run or fight, so I had to take them out again.

Peafowl can get along with chickens, but the disease transfer between them (chickens to peafowl) can kill peafowl, so most people don't. Early on, while we were still building pens, I had a few chickens in with peas in the first pen and the adults again were fine, and the eggs were too big to eat. ....the bantam chicks, however, were not. They got eaten.

Curiously, the peas always liked the pigeons. I don't know if they ever ate any eggs, but the pigeons kept their babies up in nests until they were Bird Sized, and the peafowl didn't chase them around on the ground, the adults or the fledglings, even when I tossed out grains and seeds for them. They DID eat the carolina wren fledglings that were raised in their coop, despite my best efforts to repeatedly remove that nest before there were eggs. That mom was DETERMINED to have her babies in The Worst Location Ever.

So, will peafowl act aggressive toward other farm fowl? Some of them, in some situations. Will peafowl hunt other smaller farm birds for food and sport? If they're small and defenseless enough.

[ghoulsbeard]

The nervous mite of an envoy stuck himself to Sev's side for some blight-fucked reason or other, certainly not for the company. Through each of the meetings and partings that night— Bodahn's son, tactics, treaties, Zevran's gashed arm— he could not shake the flaming bastard. At supper, the boy gawked at the rising swath of moons and stars and let his soup go cold.

"Eat," Sev barked at him, and snapped fingers in his face. "We march three leagues tomorrow."

"I've never..." he flung up a hairy hand, grinning at the skies. "It doesn't end?"

Poor little fledgling, Sev could hear in Morrigan's voice. Couldn't be much older than Jowan. "Go sail the Boeric and find out."

Laughter from the crowd at the fire; a lute being tuned. Leliana was in the mood for music. The boy began peering round, this way and that, about as obvious as the horns on an ogre. "Um. Are we alone?"

"We're encamped, man. No one's alone."

That got him a wry little smile. "Feels like home. A bit."

"You can reminisce with Surana. Tell me what you want."

He didn't like that, did he. He really was too young; young enough that Sev didn't know him by sight, he must've just harrowed a year or two ago. If he thought long enough he'd place a name to the narrow, fine-boned face. Patch of black fuzz over his lip. Cowlick. Someone had done his haircut with a pair of dull scissors.

The boy quailed under close examination. He'd taken to hiding behind his soup bowl as he gulped the cabbage, cold. "I don't want any, ah, favors. I don't mean— I'm sorry, I had to—"

"What d'you want from me that you can't have got for the last four bleeding Bride-forsaken hours?"

"Nothing, I swear! I had it... somewhere...." He was rummaging through his robes. Sewn a pocket in the lining, then. Good lad. "He told me to be careful about it. Don’t let no one see."

The letter was written on the back of a tincture for rashvine, in Niall's crabbed, scratching hand. Faint grids of charcoal behind the words.

A chuisle, it said at the first.

He folded it carefully along its creases to ration out later, one phrase at a time. "Thank you," he forced up, for this shivering boy who'd taken such a kind, stupid risk. "Conall, was it?"

"Colm," the boy said, breathing over his hands before he shoved them in his armpits against the night wind. "Where can I sleep?"

"Anywhere east of the creek." But don't be a wretch to the lad. The night was fair, he ought to practice holding the shape— he'd sleep in his fur. "See that tent— there? Beside the bard."

"The little one?"

"Hands off the bottles. They're poison. The blanket's yours." Young Theirin was ambling over, arguing with the dog. "Oi. Warden! Our envoy needs a proper coat."

The boy Colm was looking at him like Liathari in the warden camp: big eyes like stars. Circlers were a sorry lot. He ought to know, he'd gone barmy over an illegible letter. "Talk to Surana. She's archmage here. She'll see you sorted."

"I know," said Colm, through chattering teeth. "I saw her in the tower. Demons. And miracles." He leaned in, shivering hard. "I volunteered."