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utterlyotterlyx · 9 months ago

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Can you do a Azriel request where Azriel exaggerating a bruise his mate got during training to be worse than it is and needing bed rest because he wants to cuddle/kiss but still hasn’t figured out how to ask for cuddles since they’ve been friends for centuries but newly accepted their mate bond?

Sparks

Summary - An injury during training with Cassian ends with Azriel fussing over you, but as always with Azriel, he has another motive.

Warnings - none really, mentions of injury, slight angst, welcome to fluff junction

If anyone would have told Azriel when he had first met you that you would end up as his mate, he would have laughed in their faces.

There were no two people as different as you and Azriel, he was a brooding thing and you were like fresh morning sunshine, opposite in every way imaginable. It also didn't help that he found your stubborn nature to be quite the nuisance.

Those feelings didn't linger long however, you had some strange ability to make those around you feel at ease, perhaps it was your charm or how your eyes sparkled whenever someone spoke to you about something important to them. It didn't take Azriel long at all to become one of the many people who sought comfort in your words, much to the delight of Rhys who always sternly told him to be nicer to you.

Azriel couldn't remember the precise moment he had met you for the first time, he was sure it had been Selene to introduce the two of you, and when she died Rhys had moved you into the River House and you had quite quickly become a pillar of the Inner Circle. Wise. Kind. Truthful.

A force to be reckoned with.

What Azriel could remember however was the moment the bond had snapped for him.

There was a special spot that you often went to when you wanted to be alone, a certain balcony that lay beyond the stained glass doors of Selene's room, a place you had used to sit with her during the night, where you'd either sit in silence and gaze at the stars, or talk about anything that you wished. Selene was your best friend, you had also lost a sister that day.

That evening, as the sun was about to draw the curtains to another performance, when the sky was painted in burnt orange and purple, did Azriel find you there. A gentle song was drifting from your lips from where you sat on a deep set chair, wrapped up in one of Selene's blankets and gazing so far away that Azriel had thought that you were peering into the past. Something about it held his attention, the way that your eyes had softened, how your hair drifted in the gentle breeze, how the sun made your eyes shine like rare diamonds and the way you held yourself for comfort.

It had snapped when he had mistakenly made a noise, being too entranced by you to be careful about where he was stepping, and you had turned your head to see who was in Selene's space with you. The sun was causing you to glow, it hugged the side of your face, and the way you had whispered his name made his entire world spin.

The bond hadn't snapped for you though, you had simply asked him what he was doing and if he wanted to join you. Which he did without hesitation. That night you had both talked through the hours, too entwined with one another to realise the sun peeking through the horizon to welcome another day.

Months had passed and you still had no idea about the bond, and unfortunately it had snapped for you at the worst possible time. When Azriel had been slung over Rhys' shoulder, badly injured, and you had rushed into the room to help Madja only to feel an onslaught of pain the moment the bond blossomed and connected your souls together.

A single look was all Azriel needed to know that it had snapped, the wide eyes of terror and worry and the drifting fingers over the skin where your heart lay.

I'm going to kick your ass for this when you can stand.

Tears had brimmed in your eyes the moment he had laughed at your quip, and then winced from the pain. You had fell to his side, running your fingers through his matted hair, telling him that you weren't going anywhere whilst Madja put him back together.

Azriel had woken in his bed to you curled into his side with your arm flung over his torso, and as soon as he moved an inch, you were awake and alert asking him if he needed anything to which he said he only needed you.

Ever since you'd been rather inseparable.

So when Azriel had felt that jolt of pain throbbing at his shoulder and the emotions to go along with it, he had taken off running to the House of Wind, leaving a rather bewildered Feyre alone in the bakery with bags of pastries that he was meant to bring back to you to halt your incessant begging for them.

Landing at the House of Wind, his shadows whispered to him where you were and he took off in that direction, following the trails of your scent before walking into the brick wall known as Rhys, "Where is she? What happened?"

Rhys lay a consoling hand on his shoulder, the same one that was throbbing and twisting with discomfort, "She's fine, Az," Rhys told him, his violet gaze burning into the Shadowsinger to make sure that he understood. Azriel loosened a breath and waited for Rhys to continue despite the itching need to find you, "She was training with Cassian, he was a bit rough with her and dislocated her shoulder. Madja is with her now."

As if on cue, a soft groan emitted from down the hall and Azriel moved around Rhys to follow it, peering into each room along the way until his eyes landed on you.

Sweat coated your brow, you had tugged your bottom lip between your teeth to stop your whimpering as Madja held your arm in her hands. A low growl rumbled in his chest, his sight moved to Cassian at your side who looked at him with wide eyes, "Az, I didn't mean to hurt her," Cassian knew how protective Azriel was of you, and since the bond had been newly requited, Cassian also knew how much Azriel was dying to tear him apart in that moment.

To Azriel, Cassian was not his friend in that moment, he was the one who had hurt his mate, his reason for living, and it was making him seethe.

"Az?" A weak voice called to him and Cassian stepped aside to display you fully to him, "It's my fault, I thought I could take a bit more force."

The shadows darted from his shoulders, soaring through the air to pepper your face with comfort and love, slithering through your hair and floating atop your injured shoulder.

Cassian scratched the back of his neck, "I did body slam you into the ground, y/n."

"You body slammed her into the ground?"

Closing your eyes and inhaling deeply, you then glanced to Cassian, face deadpan and stoic, "I'm trying to save your ass from a beating here, Cass."

"Right, I'll just go. You've got it from here, Az?"

A stupid question.

Azriel's burning gaze didn't move from Cassian as he slipped from the room, then all of his attention fell onto you. The Shadowsinger knelt at your side, brushing his thumb over your cheek where the skin had been stained from your tears, "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay," you strained, "It's just uncomfortable. You came at the perfect time, Madja was just about to pop it back in," you said with a nervous smile directed to the healer who was paying little notice to the two of you.

Unease and nerves flew down the bond and Azriel clasped your fingers around his, "Squeeze it as hard as you need to. I can take it."

"I thought I could too," you grinned and shuffled into an upright position, bracing yourself against his body and gulping down deep breaths, "I'm sorry if I scared you."

With the bond being so new with so much to be explored, Azriel wasn't sure of what you needed. Sure, he had taken care of you during your cycle, he knew that you were affectionate and loved to be held, but it was always you that crawled onto his lap and wrapped your arms around him whenever you needed some contact. Azriel was a touch-starved thing, and he didn't know how to ask for your affection because he was so used to not having any at all and was afraid that you'd deny him.

Now he had the perfect excuse.

Once Madja had twisted your shoulder back into place, an action that made you yelp and groan to the point Azriel had felt his blood boil when looking to the healer, she wrapped it up in a sling and advised that you be on bed rest until it had fully set and healed, which would only take a couple of days.

"Can I take her home?" Madja rolled her eyes playfully and uttered her approval, and Azriel wasted no time in scooping you into his arms, smirking at your glare, "Madja said to rest, so no walking for you."

"My legs don't hurt, Az."

"I don't care," you shouldn't have been complaining really, it was nice to be the one being held for a change, and it was nice that Azriel had made the move to touch you.

It wasn't like you never cuddled or spent days in bed with one another, you had spent many days in his bed with your limbs entwined with his lips searching every single inch of your skin. But when it came to simple acts of affection, Azriel was lost, and it was obvious that he didn't know how to show affection outside of the bedroom.

Landing at the River House, you pleaded with Azriel to put you down, assuring him that you could walk on your own, but he refused, and continued to refuse you as he carried you through the house and up the stairs which led to your shared bedroom.

It was Azriel's really, but he put up quite a fuss after the bond had snapped and you had little choice in the matter. Azriel did have the largest and comfiest bed, confirmed after you had tested every single bed in the house before coming to the conclusion, and all you did was bring your feminine flair to the space and your copious amount of clothes.

Azriel placed you on the edge of the bed, pressing his lips to yours and mumbling, "I'll be right back," he left your lips needing more and you watched him retreat to the bathroom, a squeak of the taps and rushing water sounded and you shuddered with happiness when Azriel reappeared, "Let's get you out of these clothes," clothes that were sweaty and dusted with dirt from the training grounds.

Working carefully, Azriel helped you out of your leathers, he gently lifted the shirt around your injured shoulder and aided you in stepping out of your pants, folding them neatly on the ottoman at the foot of the bed.

The water was the perfect temperature for you and your body disappeared under the bubbles as Azriel lowered you into the tub, stripping his own clothes from his body and stepping in to nestle into the spot behind you and sliding his arms around you, resting your head against his chest and rubbing circles into your skin.

Wincing, you angled yourself, and you weren't able to stop the laugh spurting from your lips when Azriel said, "I'm going to make Cassian cry tomorrow," you sat upright and peered over your shoulder at him.

Azriel didn't meet your eyes, instead he was focusing on his fingers playing with the ends of your dampened hair; his bare chest glistened in the light, his muscles contorted with tense anger, and his jaw ticked. He welcomed the new position you created, wrapping your legs around his torso and pressing your chest up against his; bubbles swarmed around you and you sighed with content when his fingers ran through your hair and down your spine, when his lips peppered along your collarbone.

"What if I need you with me tomorrow?" Azriel straightened, eagerly, and leaned into you, his hands falling on the small of your back, "To take care of me?"

Those hazel orbs brightened, "I'll do whatever you need me to do," a new bond or not, you knew that there was nothing that Azriel wouldn't do for you, "I'll glue myself to you if that will make you feel better."

Through giggles you spoke, "As lovely as that sounds, Az," you brushed a strand of hair from his eyes, "Being in your arms is where I want to be, more for you if anything."

Azriel frowned, "What do you mean?"

"You've been awfully touchy today."

Sitting up a little straighter, "You're hurt," you quirked a brow and he knew from the gentle smirk on your lips that you knew full well what he was doing, and he cracked under the pressure, "Maybe I just wanted an excuse to dote on you a little bit."

Bingo.

Leaning closer to him, being careful of your shoulder, you hovered just in front of his face, noses almost touching, "You don't need an excuse to dote on me, Az. I know it's difficult for you to show affection, but you'll get used to it. If you ever want to kiss me or hold my hand or cuddle me, just do it, you never need to-"

Azriel cut you off by pressing his lips to yours, it was something he had done countless times before, but it felt different, like he was finally embracing the bond enough to stop hiding his love for you. Fingers at the back of your neck, Azriel smirked against your lips, at the fact you hadn't released a breath yet, and then pulled away, "Like that?"

"Yeah, just like that," your voice was a hush above a whisper, "Do more of that."

Grinning, Azriel purred, "Yeah?"

"Mhm," you nodded eagerly, wondering how in the world your mate was so perfect and alluring.

If Selene could see you now, happily mated to Azriel the Shadowsinger, ready to embark on the wild ride of life... you were sure she would have been thrilled about it actually.

Noticing your mind wander, Azriel cupped your cheek, "Where have you gone?"

It's what he always asked when your mind drifted elsewhere, you had told him it was never just a thought, but an image, a memory, so he had stopped asking what you were thinking about but rather where you had gone to.

"To Selene," he pulled you closer to him, running his thumb across your lips, "Do you think she would have been happy about us?"

"Are you happy?" Connecting your eyes, you nodded, softly, "Then yes, she would have been very happy. It was all she ever wanted for you, an all-consuming love and a life of happiness."

The inevitable day of your mating ceremony was bound to happen in the coming months, and whilst you were excited for it and everything that it meant for you and Azriel, the thought of it saddened you, because the one person you had grown up with speaking of marriage and children at least once a week was no longer by your side.

"Do you know how much I love you?"

Azriel had always been good at pulling you from your thoughts, you focused on him, the love of your life, and replied, "I think so, but it wouldn't hurt to hear it again."

After throwing his head back to the edge of the tub with laughter, he settled, "I swear that I couldn't love you more than I do right now, but I know that I will tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. My love for you will never stop growing." Azriel held your face in his hands, stroking the hair from your face, "The sky has nothing on you, my love, you surround my world. You are my world."

Tendrils of shadow moved from his shoulders, peeping over them, flowing down his body into the water and spreading across your thighs. You rested your forehead against his, "You are my home, Az."

With a gentle kiss, Azriel lifted you from the tub, he wrapped a towel around your body and helped you into one of his shirts that engulfed you in the scent of him, and he waited, he waited for you to clamber into the bed and get comfortable before he found his place beside you. Like he would everyday for the rest of his life.

Authors Note

Bath time Az is just ughhhhhhhh

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dumbbitchgalore · 2 months ago

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Repost because it got flagged a while ago

Young Lt!Price and the General’s wife 🧚‍♀️

“And this is Mrs Holmes, General Holmes’ wife.”

Among the glitz and glamour of military balls, sandwiched between couples swaying to the music, John is introduced to an unenthusiastic woman no older than 27.

Her body wrapped in a baby blue organza dress as diamonds find their place on her ears, neck and fingers causing her to stand out from the see of black and white.

She looks at him with no particular interest as she extends her hand out as a sign of formality. She’s heard a lot about the young soldier. Talented, brave, smart and occasionally stories of his virility circle among the women.

“A pleasure, Lieutenant Price.” She says monotonously as John takes her hand to shake it while giving her a wolfish grin.

“Please ma’am, the pleasure is all mine.” He responds back, less formal and more rapacious.

Humming softly at his reply, you pull your hand away from his grasp examining his face. A light stubble, cleaned around the edges, hair slicked back giving way to the old Hollywood style. His cerulean eyes staring you down, drowning in a pool of sin. The tiny mole decorating his nose doesn’t get past her, it adds a cuteness to his person in her eyes.

“Your reputation precedes you, Lieutenant as well do your accolades adorning your chest… especially for someone so young.” She states.

Not knowing why such compliments fell out of her lips, she makes no effort in correcting herself, rather her cold and calculating stare tries to picture John without all the hustle and bustle of the military world, albeit she could not.

John chuckles, “I could say the same thing about you, although in other circumstances.”

This piques her interest as she raises an eyebrow at his comment.

“Meaning?”

John rolls his eyes shoving his hand into his pant pockets as he gives her a shrug.

“The meaning being that a woman as young as you being with such an old-”

Her scowl silences him in an instant. A deadly glare, cold enough to freeze the rivers of hell.

“Watch it. That’s my husband and your General you’re speaking about.”

John smirks, satisfaction tricking through his veins.

“Bet he’s never made you c-”

Not letting him finish his sentence, she huffs and storms away in anger, earning a chuckle from John.

For the remainder of the night, She spends her time nursing a glass of rum and coke near the bar as she scans the area. A frown finds her way to her face as she sees women younger than her drapping themselves on him as her husband relishes in the in their salacious touches.

"You know, I can make you forget about him ma'am." A voice resonates behind her catching her attention.

She turns around to face him and rolls her eyes. "It's you."

A chuckle rips through John as he moves a strand of hair from her face. "Come on, Lovie. Let me take you to cloud nine and back."

Sighing softly, an inner turmoil beings to ensue within her as her mind becomes murky with hunger. She should be able to do as she pleases for once in her life like her husband, no? She deserves to feel cock-drunk and fucked out.

"Lead the way, Lieutenant."

***

Ruffling of soft fabrics echo through the bathroom, its dim brillance casting a subtle glow on the two. John kisses her taking charge of the situation, but that doesn't slide with the missus.

Grabbing him by the hair, she gives it a harsh tug elicitng a hiss from his lips before pushing him down on the floor. John complys subserviently without much of a fight letting you take the reins. He looks up at her, eyes mirroring desperation and sex.

"Mistress..." He mutters pathetically.

Tsking him softly, her eyes burn with satisfaction as she sees the young soldier pleading for pleasure with her.

Lifting her dress, giving way to her panties, she dips her fingers into them rubbing her folds before her fingers plunge into her aching hole, coating them to her slick juices. Squelches erupt from her pussy as she moans softly, gazing into John's azure irises.

Pulling her fingers out of her tight cunt, she smears her slick into his lips as they leave behind a nice sheen.

"Open wide, Lieutenant." You command softly.

John complies, opening his mouth to accomodate her fingers. She slides her fingers into his mouth, rubbing them on his tongue before giving him permission to suck. He sucks on her fingers earnestly, paying attention to where her cunny honey has left their mark on her digits.

He moans softly, savouring her taste. Who knows when he'll ever get to taste Mrs Holmes again? He laps them clean as she pulls her fingers out of with out drawing a 'pop' noise as John releases her fingers.

"Now, be a good soldier and serve your country right, hm?"

She mutters sweetly as she grabs him by his hair, dragging his face closer to her cunt.

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captain-joongz · 6 months ago

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summer recap/favourite fics/fic recommendations for the first half of 2024

Professor Rapline by @joonsmagicshop

♡ professors! joon, hobi and yoongs x f!reader, professor x student relationship, the rapline takes turns on reader, namjoon centric, smut smut smut

backtrack by @mapofthesea

♡ producers!jimin and yoongs x assistant!reader, studio sex, situationship, reader gets absolutely railed and it's accidentally recorded

Masked miracles by @remedyx + Shadows we trust by remedyx + Boyfriend for hire by remedyx + Trouvaille by @spookyserenades

♡ these series' were already mentioned in my previous recommendations list, but i cannot stress this enough - go read them, they're absolutely amazing!! i will literally never shut up about these and i'll put them on every fic rec list i make until the end of time :D

Golden boy by @kpopfanfictrash

♡ pornstar!jin x f!reader, neighbours au, it's very sweet and funny, absolutely amazing smut

fast lane by @yminie

♡ racer!jin x pitcrew!reader, slowburn but so fucking worth it, kookie gets hurt but it's for character development, e2l/annoyances 2l, smut

midnight by @miniminimermaid

♡ yoongi struggling with burnout and reader helps relax him, soft sex, body worship

Sugar rush ride by @lo1k-diamonds

♡ producer! yoongs x producer!reader, coworkers au, reader is bratty and yoongi is a little shit, mutual pining, smut

A new rhythm by @sluttywoozi

♡ producers! yoongs and jihoon x yoongi's gf!reader, virgin!jihoon, soft sex, they help woozi lose his v-card, allusions to possible poly

three tangerines by @kithtaehyung

♡ brother's best friend!yoongs x f!reader, fuckboy!yoongi, reader asks him for help in the bedroom and gets everything and more, some angst

The early shift by @hobidreams

♡ barista!yoongs x barista!reader, coworkers au, e2l, angsty but gets sweet, yoongi is struggling and reader tries to help, smutty smut smut

love roulette by @whatifyoulivelikethat

♡ producer!yoongs x jin's bff!reader, a bet gone... right??, slowburn, humour and fluff, they help each other, smut, reader has a noona kink and nobody lets her breathe

noise complaints by @jkstompers

♡ producer!yoongs x bassist!reader, neighbours au, reader is in a rock band, smut

strike a chord by @snackhobi

♡ pianist!yoongs x f!reader, reader gets stood up and instead listens to bar musician yoongi, slowburn, smut

Illicit favours by @yoongiofmine

♡ producer!yoongi x writer!reader, bff2l, virgin reader needs help with writing sex scenes, shenanigans ensue, mutual pining, idiots in love

Tricks of the trade by @stutterfly

♡ shopkeeper!yoongs x f!reader, body swap au, jin is a deity of chaos, awkward flirting cause they don't know hot to talk to each other, misunderstandings, sexual tension and smut

Performance evaluation by @kookscrescent

♡ fuckboy!yoongs x f!reader, college au, one night stand?? au, reader asks yoongi to tell her whether she's bad in bed, yoongi is a little shit but what's new

Bad idea... right? by @joonsmagicshop

♡ college party au, e2l, sexual tension, tae is a little bit of a douche but hobi makes it all better, smut

a word from our sponsors by @ugh-yoongi

♡ podcast co-hosts joon and reader, they read smutty fanfic of themselves, sexual tension, f2l, humour, smut

porn director drabble by @badbtssmut

♡ director!tae x pornstar!reader, tae shows reader's co-star how it's done, public sex, dubcon in a way

Risk management by @chateautae

♡ investment banker!tae x f!reader, s2l, sexual tension (i mean, who could blame her it's tae), smut, window sex

petty by @hamsterclaw

♡ rich kid petty criminal!kookie x lawer babysitter!reader, reader is in charge of making sure kookie doesn't get in trouble, idiots in love, sexual tension but with feels, smut

Redamancy by @gimmethatagustd

♡ alpha!tae x omega!kookie, a/b/o, imprinting, scenting, older tae (*cough* daddy), s2l, love at first sight, smut

Like a river by gimmethatagustd

♡ alpha!tae x omega!yoongi x alpha!joon, a/b/o, unexpected heat, college professors coworkers au, semi-public sex

The love witch by gimmethatagustd

♡ demon!tae x romance blogger witch!yoongs, incubus tae, "how to summon a boyfriend" au, s2l, modern fantasy, smut

(actually you should go read everything jai has put out, she's incredibly talented and i love like every fic she's ever published)

My library | ATEEZ fic recs

#kpop fic #kpop smut #kpop fic recs #bts fic #bts smut #bts fic recs #seokjin fic #seokjin smut #yoongi fic #yoongi smut #hoseok fic #hoseok smut #namjoon fic #namjoon smut #taehyung fic #taehyung smut #jungkook fic #jungkook smut #bts x reader

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zepskies · 1 month ago

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Against the Wind - Part 2

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: Thank you guys so much for all the amazing feedback on Part 1! Now, most of your theories and questions will be answered...

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: True Mates @jacklesversebingo

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.8K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, and peril, the other kind of "hunting."

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 2: Seems Like Yesterday

“I’ll raise you 25,” you say, tossing five chocolate covered pretzels into the middle pile. It’s a risky bet, considering how much you lost in the last hand. Dean regards you with an amused, if critical eye while he holds his cards.

“Ooh, you’re bluffing,” he says. You pop your brows at him, a subtle smile tugging at your lips.

“You want to test that theory? Put your money where your mouth is,” you challenge.

He tilts his head at you with a raise of his own brows.

“Cheeky omega,” he mutters. His attention returns to his cards as he deliberates on his next move.

You attempt to be nonchalant as you glance down at your cards again. It’s a shitty hand, but he doesn’t need to know that. The alpha’s won the last two hands of Texas Hold ‘Em, but you did win the first one. Though you suspect he let you win.

You want to at least even the score before he resumes his work out in the shed. He spends most of his time there during the day, or making sure the firewood is stocked. It seems like he takes any excuse not to spend too much time in your presence.

More than anything, you want to ask him if he feels what you feel—the same tug in the pit of your stomach every time he’s nearby. You just haven’t found a way to broach that with him.

Hey, I know we just met like two minutes ago, but I think we’re supposed to be together. Do you feel it too?

You nearly roll your eyes at yourself. Yeah, that’ll go over well.

So you have to be content with mornings like this and in the evenings, where he lets you put on one of his records, and you two share dinner together, maybe another round of cards. Or you’ll read a book while lounging on the chaise, and he lays out on the couch, listening to his music with his eyes closed. You like watching him like that, with a relaxed, damn near peaceful set to his face.

Too often he holds that harder, stoic expression, or that divot between his brows that makes you want to soothe two of your fingers there; or better yet, lean in and press your lips—

“It’s your move,” Dean reminds you. He’s finally played his hand, but you were too distracted to hear what he said.

“What’d you do?” you ask, surveying the piles of cards.

“Call,” he repeats, popping a few pretzels into his mouth. He washes it down with beer and more barbeque chips. Those are worth $10 in this little fantasy betting. He points a finger towards you with the same hand that holds his beer, teasing, “You got all the lights on in there? Or am I boring you?”

You glance up at him, fighting a smile. “All right, keep your pants on. Let me see…”

As the dealer, he’s already turned over the River: the last card in the hand. It’s a 10 of Clubs, which means your One Pair is actually a Two Pair. It’s still not a great hand, but it’s decent enough to maybe let you get the best of your opponent.

After you go “all in,” Dean’s lips twitch at a smile, and he humors you, going all in as well. You’re on tenterhooks when he finally reveals his hand.

“Ooh, it ain’t a cheesy ‘90s sitcom, but it’s still…a Full House,” he brags as he lays out each card in a smooth line of overlapping cards, the mix of glossy red diamonds and black spades showing the truth. He won again.

You huff in defeat, your shoulders sinking in your seat at the kitchen table. You turn over your measly hand. Sweeping the winnings toward himself (a mound of chocolate covered pretzels, a stack of barbecue chips, and a handful of Oreos), Dean chuckles and tosses you a wink.

“Ah, don’t beat yourself up, sweetheart. I’ve been hustlin’ poker for a long time. Hell, I’ve been playing this game before I even knew my times tables,” he says as he collects the cards.

“That young?” you reply. “Who taught you?”

“My dad,” he says. “Oh, believe me, I used to get my ass kicked many a’ time, but by the time I turned sixteen, I was hustlin’ grown ass men in skeevy bars out of their daily paycheck.”

“You were hanging out in bars at sixteen?” you ask incredulously. There, Dean seems to realize he’s said too much. He becomes more guarded as he puts away the deck and cleans the crumbs off the table.

“My dad was always working. You could say I didn’t really have a curfew,” he says.

“A latchkey kid, huh?” you reply, hiding the way you’re trying so hard to glean any more hints of truth between his words.

“Heh, yeah.” He gets up from the table and tosses the breakfast dishes in the sink, then travels to the front door to don his jacket and boots.

“All right, I’ll be out back,” he says.

Out back, code for out in the shed. You nod, and in a flash, he’s shutting the door behind him.

You’ve learned another small tidbit about him, one that feels more important than it seems on the surface. And yet, it only elicits more questions you doubt he’ll be willing to answer so easily. He’s more than tight-lipped about his past, only giving vague outlines and general pictures.

Even his stories—like being raised up in a family of traveling mechanics, putting Nair in Sam’s shampoo when he was a kid, or the guy’s serious fear of clowns—feel like they’re missing some key details.

You decide to take up your crutches and head for your room. There you unearth the journal from its hiding place under your pillow. This time, you turn to the very beginning. Before all the jargon about mythology (and an odd footnote about a “Turducken Slammer��), there are actual journal entries. The first one dates back to November 6, 1983. The first line already captures your attention.

I buried my wife today. Even as I write that down, I don’t believe it. Last week we were a normal family…eating dinner, going to Dean’s T-ball game, buying toys for baby Sammy. But in an instant, it all changed… When I try to think back, get it all straight in my head…I feel like I’m going crazy. Like someone ripped both my arms off, plucked my eyes out. I’m wandering around, alone and lost and I can’t do anything.

This is Dean’s father, you realize. The more that you read, with no small amount of dismay, you also realize that this man is writing about his wife, Mary.

Dean’s mom…

He writes about their house burning with all their memories inside, along with Mary. Somehow, he saw her pinned bloody to the ceiling.

Along with these pages is a clipping from a news story:

House Fire Kills Mother of Two

Lawrence, Kansas.

You’re spellbound by it all. You keep reading.

November 13, 1983

…Most of our clothes and photos are ruined, even our safe—the safe with Mary’s old diaries, the boys’ savings bonds, what little jewelry we had…all gone. How could my house, my whole life, go up like that, so fast, so hot? How could my wife just burn up and disappear?

The police don’t believe his story, about how she died before the fire, about what he saw. So he tries to convince himself that what he saw wasn’t real. Still, he can’t find rest, and he worries about his sons’ safety.

December 4, 1983

I haven’t let them out of my sight since the fire. Dean still hardly talks. I try to make small talk, or ask him if he wants to throw the baseball around. Anything to make him feel like a normal kid again. He never budges from my side—or from his brother.

Every morning when I wake up, Dean is inside the crib, arms wrapped around baby Sam. Like he’s trying to protect him from whatever is out there in the night.

Sammy cries a lot, wanting his mom. I don’t know how to stop it, and part of me doesn’t want to. It breaks my heart to think that soon he won’t remember her at all.

You don’t realize you’re crying until a droplet lands on the page. You quickly wipe it away before it becomes a stain, and you dry it all the way with your breath before you move on to the next page, sniffling. Your heart hurts, even as your guilt grows. You know now that you’re really, truly invading Dean’s privacy by reading his father’s words. You just can’t stop yourself from turning the next page.

John becomes convinced that someone, or something, started the fire that destroyed his life and took his wife away from him and his sons. He leaves his job and the remnants of that world behind, to venture deeper into the darker one. But in that darkness, he finds truth.

He visits a psychic, Missouri, who leads him back to his house and senses the echoes of an evil presence—something that shakes her to the core, and John too: the creature that killed his wife.

December 20

…She told me that it was the most powerful, awful thing she’s ever come across.

On January 1, 1984, John makes a New Year’s resolution. He determines to find the answers himself.

A shiver runs down your spine. In John’s words, your heart breaks for Dean, but you also see yourself. You try not to think about why.

You keep flipping through the rest of the journal past January. There are translations of a Latin exorcism, and like you read before, strange drawing of evil looking creatures—as well as what they are, scraps of their history, and how to kill them.

Silver bullet to the heart, can’t withstand iron, salt and burn.

You pause on a certain page, more filled with lore than the rest, and a primitive drawing in the center.

WENDIGO

Cree: Evil that devours.

Wood spirit. Eats live flesh. Lives in forests.

Perfect hunter.

Your breath stills in your lungs as a cold sweat forms across your skin. The more you read, the faster your heart beats.

The crunch of dead leaves. Your father shouting at you to run, and keep running.

The coarse shout of a bear morphs into something other. It’s a sharper, whirring sound like wind howling amidst animalistic clicking, and then bones breaking—your father’s scream cut short. You turn around with your rifle in hand, poised to shoot blindly.

Your stomach churns as bile rises into your throat. You feel sick, and wrong, and you suddenly have the urge to throw the journal against the wall.

“Omega?” calls Dean’s sharp voice. “You okay?”

You jolt badly at the sudden noise. You didn’t hear him reenter the house. He likely caught the scent of your distress. He pushes the door of your room open to find you, but he stops short in the doorway. His surprise quickly morphs into a frown when he notices what you’re holding in your lap.

You gasp, freezing where you sit, but there’s no point in trying to cover up what you’ve done. With an angry purse of his lips, he reaches over and takes the journal from your hands.

“What the hell are you doing with this?” he demands.

“I’m…I’m sorry. I just—” You swallow past the lump in your throat. “I was just curious. I wanted to know more about you. I thought it was…a normal journal.”

“So this is how you go about it, huh? Got everything you wanted, Columbo?” he says, his sarcasm cutting into you. He flips through the journal to make sure all the pages are intact before he tucks the journal under his arm. “Seriously, going into somebody’s stuff? Who the hell raised you?”

At that, you begin to bristle.

“My dad,” you snap back. Though remembering the passages you’ve lived with for the past few hours, you soften with a painful twinge of sympathy in your heart.

“And it looks like yours raised you to be some kind of…well, what are you, a ghostbuster or something?” you ask.

His jaw locks. “Or something.”

With an exasperated sigh at his hedging, you swing your legs around the edge of the bed and haul yourself up with your crutches so you can at least match his stance (more or less).

“Dean, please, just talk to me,” you implore, gesturing at the journal tucked under his arm. “The things I read—”

“Are none of your goddamn business!” he growls, making the omega inside you cringe. The alpha’s voice is deep and sharp, and even though he isn’t crowding you, his height and broadness are still intimidating.

“The sooner you heal up, the sooner I can ship you back to where you belong,” he says. “Back to your life, so you can stop sticking your nose into mine.”

Your mouth actually falls open in shock. His vehement words feel almost as powerful as a physical blow, if to your soul. They make your arms tremble while holding yourself upright on your crutches. Hot tears well up in your eyes, though you try to blink them away. After a moment, you’re able to collect yourself enough to speak.

“I’m sorry for going through your stuff,” you say, in a quiet voice.

You hobble awkwardly past him out of the room. You don’t stop until you reach the front door, where your snow boots are. You manage to get them on by yourself so you can go outside and get some fresh air, not to mention some much needed distance from the alpha’s burning presence. You can still feel him trailing behind you. You hear his heavy boots.

“Where the hell are you going?” he grits out.

You hobble faster.

Dean watches you go out the door without a word in irritation, even though it triggers an alarm deep in his gut every time you leave the safety of the cabin.

The snow depth has lightened somewhat since the storm, but it’s still not easy to navigate on your crutches. You get some distance from the cabin, mindful not to go too far. You know you’re limited, and you didn’t even take a gun with you.

Finding a solid tree to lean on, you rest there and try in vain to stifle your tears. You know you were wrong for snooping, and he had a right to be mad, but did he really have to be such a freakin’ bear?

Fucking alphas. I swear.

You thought you were starting to connect with him, but clearly, Dean wants nothing to do with you. He wants you out of his life.

Does he not feel the same pull you feel to him? Does he really not realize…that he’s meant to be your mate?

You take in a shaky breath through your nose. If he does, apparently he doesn’t care.

Just then, you hear the crunch of snow nearby. Twigs snapping.

Your body stiffens with a terrible memory—of that day in the woods. Your breath comes out in short puffs on the cold air, your eyes wide as you listen closely.

Hearing nothing, you allow yourself to breathe a little easier. You venture a few paces forward and to the right, but you stop shy of how it slopes downward. Some unnamed feeling tells you to look over the edge.

You lean over and cast your gaze down the slope, but all you see is snow and trees down below. With a shaky breath, you lean back and look out to the north again. Plodding along the trail, heading towards you, is a bear.

Oh shit…

You remember Dean mentioning something about a bear passing by his cabin a couple of days before the storm. Looks like he’s back to make his rounds.

His fur is dark; from this distance, you can’t tell if it’s a black bear or a grizzly. It doesn’t make much difference when all you have on your person is a can of bear spray. His gait is massive, unhurried, but he lets out a braying sound when your gaze meets his, as if acknowledging you. He stops there for a moment, assessing. Your body locks up with fear.

The bear groans again, this time sharper. You finally snap out of your reverie and force your body to move slowly backward with your crutches spearing into the snow. The cabin isn’t that far, maybe thirty or forty yards at most. Still, the bear can probably beat you.

Instead of trying to run, you stand your ground and shout at the bear, hoping he’ll back off. Your voice dies in your throat when he rears up on his hind legs, with a loud roar. Trembling, you miss a step and get knocked back into the snow on your ass, your crunches falling out at your sides. You scramble inside your jacket for anything that might help you.

Bear spray!

You hurry to get the cap off with shaking hands, but before you can even aim, the creature’s heave paws thudding into the ground in front of you—a gunshot rings out and hits the animal in the chest.

The bear falters, then roars in pain and anger.

Two more shots finally bring it down to an even heavier thud, not far from your feet.

In this moment, these are the things you don’t know about Dean Winchester:

For one, the scent of an omega in distress always calls to an alpha’s protective instincts. But the scent of your abject fear feels like someone tried to rip his lungs out through his stomach.

Second, when he sees you there, your wide, shiny eyes filled with the remnants of panic, yet relief at the sight of him, it takes everything within him not to drop to his knees, grab you by the hair, sink his teeth into your neck and claim you, right there in the snow. Maybe then you’d start listening to him and stop taking your life into your hands.

Instead, his lips purse as he wracks his rifle and slings the strap of it over his shoulder. He stalks toward you and scoops you up, crutches and all. He brings you back to the cabin without a word.

His jaw is once again locked with silence and strain; he doesn’t trust himself to speak until he’s brought you inside and carried you over to the chaise. He sits beside you there and takes an inventory of you with his eyes.

“You okay?” he asks at last.

You manage to meet his gaze and give a little nod.

“Okay. Don’t move,” he says shortly. He gets up and goes to the kitchen, where he grabs a foldable set of knives and a cooler from under the sink.

You watch him in silence, and you realize he’s going back to gut the bear. You didn’t know that he actually hunted out here…well, hunted to eat. He continues to gather items in silence. It gets to a point where you can’t stand it, or his curtness, any longer.

“Thank you,” you say, halting his steps. Dean glances at you over his shoulder, then continues strapping up his supplies. He huffs in response.

“We’re gonna be eatin’ good for a while,” he says without looking at you.

His attitude both hurts you and aggravates you, so much that you refuse to take it anymore.

“Look, Dean. I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have butted into your life,” you say. Frustrated tears well up in your eyes. Expelling a sharp sigh, you amend yourself. “I’m sorry for invading your privacy. I’m sorry about what you went through, and I’m…I’m sorry about your mom. I’m sorry for today. I’ll just…stay out of your way, and I’ll leave as soon as I can.”

Dean finally turns your way, but your lips tremble as you turn your face away from him and shut your eyes tightly against the salty burn of tears. Deep inside, his heart withers in his chest. He sighs and drops his supplies on the couch. He walks over with those heavy boots, and he sits on the edge of the chaise beside you. He hesitates for a moment, but eventually, he rests a warm, calloused hand on your arm and earns your tearful gaze.

“I’m sorry. I, uh…shouldn’t have yelled at you,” he says.

You sniff, quickly wiping away your embarrassing tears as they come. Your cheeks are hot with it.

“What is it you wanna know? About me,” he asks, surprising you that much more.

Your mouth parts, but nothing comes out. It takes you some time to think, but the first thing that comes to your mind is…

“Everything in that journal,” you say, licking your dry lips. “Is it real?”

Dean holds your gaze steadily. You know the truth without him having to say it, but he does.

“I was a hunter,” he says. “Those things you read about, I found ‘em. Killed ‘em. It was my job.”

“And now?” you ask, once that large bit of information has time to set into your brain.

His lips tug at a half smile. “Consider me…mostly retired.”

You exhale softly, and you nod. It earns a furrowed look from Dean.

“You don’t seem all that freaked out by this,” he says, with a more scrutinizing gaze on you.

“Should I be?” you say, with an unsteady laugh.

He raises his brows. “In my experience, yeah.”

You chew on the inside of your lip. You don’t know if you should even put into words what you’ve been holding onto for months. Like John, no one believed you. Even your own mother had started to look at you like you needed a shrink.

“Omega?” Dean presses. His green eyes are perceptive as they take in the conflicted look on your face. “There something you wanna tell me?”

You deliberate for a moment longer. Then, you release a sigh and glance down at your hands clenching in your lap.

“A few months ago, I lost my dad,” you begin.

Dean nods. “Yeah, you said—”

“I lost him in these woods,” you say.

That quiets the alpha.

You shake your head, and you find your words as the memories that have been haunting your nights return to you.

“Like I said, we used to go hiking here every year…”

AN: Just so you know, all of the journal entries appear in the official "John's Journal" SPN merch. 😉

Next Time:

Unease prickles down your spine, though you don’t know why.

“Dad?” you whisper-yell, trying not to spook whatever animal might be out there.

A gunshot rings out, along with your dad’s voice in a shout. Your eyes widen in alarm, and you call his name louder, taking off in a run to find him.

You end up rising over a hill you hadn’t crossed before, but you see your dad below; you recognize his bright blue puffer jacket that Mom got him for his birthday. You call his name, and he looks up at you with fear in his eyes.

Not for himself, but for you.

▶️ Keep Reading: Part 3

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silverskye13 · 6 months ago

Text

Etho looks down quietly at his basket, making sure everything he needs is inside. He knows it is best to only make one trip down to the water. The water is treacherous. He is strong enough to withstand it, but of course, everyone who ever drowned thinks they're strong enough until their lungs are bursting. So. He double checks. He makes sure.

He has a week's worth of laundry. Some dishes he needs sand from the river to scour. A bucket, so he won't have to make this trip for another few days. There are a few pieces of leather armor in need of a quick rinse before they're polished. Also, he's thirsty. He tries not to drink his rain water. He needs it to last.

Finally, Etho belts on his sword, hefts the basket over one shoulder, and the empty bucket with his free hand. He looks to the short path that leads down to the dock. The water is blue as the diamond sky above, edged in gold from the slowly gathering sunset. Birds are singing. Breeze whispers through the willow branches and cattails. Across the river, a small herd of deer is moving through the rushes. One breaks apart from the others to drink. Etho sighs out a long breath, steels himself, and walks down the trail.

The water is cursed. Very few people still come to the river for chores. Most only dare to run down for a few buckets of water when the well is running dry.

_____

When Tango saw him gathering his things earlier, he'd shaken his head and made a warding gesture with his hand. Protection. For himself. For Etho. Or just to ward away the idea of evil.

"Scream, I guess," Tango had told him. "I doubt we'll make it in time, but yanno, we'll know what happened."

Etho had only offered a tense smile behind his mask. Everyone would know what happened, scream or not.

"I'll be fine," Etho said. "I've been fine before."

He said it a lot more confidently than he felt, and Tango wasn't reassured. Tango had a good nose for things like that. He sniffed the air, and made the chagrined expression of someone who could smell a coming thunderstorm.

"Yeah. Sure." Tango sniffed again, and then tapped the side of his nose with a knowing finger. "On second thought, maybe save your breath."

_____

Etho walks out onto the dock, his footsteps silent as he can make them. He took his boots off by the dock's edge. They're heavy when they're wet. He sets the basket down gently on the aged wood. He fills the bucket first. In the neat and tidy plan of his habits, he thinks the bucket is the one he least wants to be left last with. It's heavy and cumbersome, and requires leaning over the water's edge. So he fills it, trying to disturb the water as little as possible, and pads back to his boots to set it down gently beside them. Then he's back to his basket, and getting to the louder work, what he know will attract attention.

He grabs a shirt and dunks it into the water, wringing it out a few times before scrubbing it against the dock's edge. Someone nailed a washboard here, probably to make it easier for everyone else who needed to scrub up -- one less cumbersome thing to drag to the riverside. Beside it, Etho can see long scratches in the wood, vanishing off the side. He has large hands, so they don't line up to him, but the unmistakable look of nails scratching, clinging, is recognizable even still. He wonders idly who made them. Probably someone playing, before the water was cursed. Or an animal that swam across the bank and needed help scurrying out.

He is tempted to think it's something more sinister, but he knows better.

The water turns from diamond blue to sunflower yellow, then to blazing orange with rusted and bleeding edges. The herd of deer on the other side of the water wanders off, sated. A fox calls in the wood somewhere, an uncanny, very human scream. The bird calls twitter into silence, replaced by chirping frogsong. Etho wrings out the last of his clothes and wipes his forehead with the back of his hand. He checks how far the sun has dipped in the sky, and decides he has an our yet before dark settles in.

With his clothes washed, he sets them back in the basket, neatly folded. They'll wrinkle probably, but when he puts them out on the line, the wind will straighten them out. His knees are sore from kneeling, his back from leaning. His armor will be easier to clean if he can settle in, brace it on his crossed legs.

Etho looks around the water, at the deceptive stillness. It's a slow, lazy river, hardly pushing the water fast enough to put ripples on it. There is one place near the opposite bank where a long shadow stretches from a stone, broken by the reflection of red sunset. It's the kind of image he would expect to see on a lake on a windless day. He's heard before that quiet rivers make for deadly waters, that there is a current in holes in the riverbed that will devour someone.

But Etho isn't in the water. He's on the dock, and the dock is safe. Nothing will drag him off it. Nothing in the water is strong enough. It doesn't have to be. There is some comfort in that, in knowing he can't be devoured against his will. It is why he still comes to the river. It is why he dares. Etho sits back and crosses his legs, bracing his leathers against his knees. He scoops a palm full of water onto them and scrubs, trying to get blood out of the small cracks where it will settle and rot. His chainmail is back at the fort up the hill, where its heaviness can't encumber him. It cleans itself reasonably well, all the links clattering together, just so long as he doesn't roll in any mud.

There is shuffling on the dock behind him, the creaking of old wood. Etho tilts his head, breathes in deeply through his nose. His pulse doesn't quicken. After a momentary pause, he resumes his work.

"Hey BDubs," he says conversationally. "Trying to sneak up on me?"

"Wh-- no. Of course not." There is mischief in BDub's answer, a grin in his voice. "The great Etho? Never. You probably heard me coming from a mile away."

"Maybe not a mile," Etho chuckles humbly. "You going to join me?"

"Well, I don't know," BDubs laughs, leaning over Etho's shoulder. "Is it safe?"

"I don't know why it wouldn't be."

"Water's cursed," BDubs reminds him. "There could be boogiemen about."

"You trying to tell me something BDubs?" Etho asks slyly, peering up at his friend.

"What? No of course not," BDubs laughs. He sits beside Etho, plunging his bare feet into the water beside the dock. "Even if I was, you know me Etho. You? Kill you? You'd kill me first."

"I don't know about that," Etho hums, splashing another palm full of water on a buckle clasp and scrubbing at a rusted stain with his thumb. "You made pretty efficient work of Grian."

"Grian had it coming," BDubs shrugs. "Got too caught up listening to the music."

Etho chuckles. "The music was very good."

BDubs kicks his feet in the water, humming the tune momentarily under his breath. It's a haunting sound, not really meant to be sung. Not by anything human. Etho shudders in spite of himself.

"Man, don't do that."

"Sorry! Haha! Sorry. Couldn't help it," BDubs grins a gap-tooth smile in Etho's direction, his eyes bright and gilded by the setting sun. "It's probably one of the coolest kills I've ever gotten."

"I'll make sure Tango knows you said that."

"Oh, Tango's fine." Bdubs waves a hand dismissively. "He's just upset 'cause I scared him."

"You did more than just scare him."

Dark room. Dark water. Tango screaming and running, scrabbling at the walls with his nails. If they ever went back to that little cave, Etho wondered if there would be marks on the walls like the docks, played, desperate fingers, digging.

"Well he's alive, isn't he?"

"I guess he is."

"Then he should get over it!"

Etho shakes his head, laughing. BDubs' voice is over-loud on the quiet lake, but its a good sound. Full of intensity and joy, and revelry. It made the silence between his words stark and empty, and Etho was always loathe to fill it.

Bdubs suddenly wraps an arm around Etho's shoulders, pulling him into a conspiratorial embrace. "Hey, I've been meaning to talk to you, by the way."

Etho suddenly has goosebumps on his neck, his spine, his arms. BDubs' arm is cold against his shoulders. He smells of bracken and standing water, and his eyes are bright as sunset. Etho takes a long, slow breath in and holds it for a moment.

"Uh... Yeah, BDubs?"

"I've got a plan, you know, for the others," Bdubs continues, his voice dropping to something near a whisper. There is something on the edge of his tone like the ringing of bells. Excitement. Thrill. Hunger. "But I'll need some help. I mean, I'm good at redstone, you know 'ol BDubs knows his stuff. But I need an expert. Someone good at traps."

"You know you've always got me Bdubs," Etho laughs, and it is hard to keep the nervousness from his voice. He's not sure he succeeds. "I'm happy to help. Just uh--" He shrugs his shoulders, and BDubs' arm falls away. "You know. Keep your distance."

"You're not scared of me, are you Etho?" Bdubs laughs, and it's loud and boisterous, and perfect. It echoes off the water like glass. Bells and ringing. He gives Etho a prideful, knowing look. "No, you're not scared of little 'ol BDubs. I know what you're scared of."

BDubs suddenly turns and slips into the water. Not all the way. His hands are still clinging to the wood, his elbows resting on the dock like it was a pool side. But the splash hits Etho's side and makes him shudder so hard, he drops the armor he'd been polishing. In a flash he's on his feet, backing away two, three steps. His movements feel too slow and heavy, and there's an instant of panic in him.

"Woah man!" Etho snaps, startled. He reaches for something, anything-- "I said keep your--!"

But BDubs is laughing, kicking his feet, stirring up the mud at the bottom of the river. "Oh come on Etho. It's water."

Etho takes three long breaths, filling his lungs to bursting before pushing the air out again heavy through his nose.

"You're fine you big baby," BDubs grins, resting his head on his crossed arms. His legs stop kicking, stop stirring up the mud, and Etho can see the water is shallow enough that he's standing on the bottom. He'd thought-- he'd thought-- "You'd think I tried to drown you, jeez."

He thought it was deeper.

Etho held his breath for a moment, counted slowly. He wanted to reach his hand to his neck, to check his pulse. To see how fast his heart was beating. He moved his hand to, and at a mocking glance from his friend, decides instead to stoop to pick up his dropped armor. He walks carefully to his basket and places it inside.

"Why'd you come down here, anyway?" BDubs asks. "If you're so scared, I mean."

"You know me, BDubs. I always come back," Etho answers, almost a reflex. A rehearsed answer. "Who else would I go to?"

"Tango and Skizz?"

"They won't keep me safe like you will." Etho points out. He shudders again, the cold from BDub's touch had seeped into him more than he thought it had. He's acclimating though, like jumping into a pool. It's a cold that seeps out of him, warms as it settles. "It's me and you to the end, right buddy?"

"Of course Etho. I'd never betray you."

Etho looks through his things one last time, then frowns. He turns the basket with his foot. He glances at BDubs, who still watches him from the water's edge. Then he takes a chance and crouches down beside his basket, rifling through with both hands.

"Lose something?" BDubs asks, standing on his tiptoes to get a better look.

Etho looks around, checking first the dock, and then the water beyond. In the deeper water over the side, he sees the flash of a buckle in the dying rays of the sun.

"Oh, huh," BDubs hums disinterestedly. "Guess you'll have to get that."

"BDubs," Etho scowls.

"Fine! Fine. I get it. You don't wanna get wet." BDubs puts up his hands, as though surrendering. "The water really isn't all that bad." He offers Etho a quick little salute. "Be right back."

He takes an exaggerated breath and splashes beneath the dock, stirring up mud and river plants. He breaks the water's surface shortly after, holding up the fallen armor piece triumphantly. "Ta-da! Hold your applause. I know I'm great."

Etho, in spite of himself, chuckles. He shivers again -- the evening is getting cold -- and reaches a hand out. BDubs places the buckle in his hand, then reaches his other hand up to clasp Etho's gently. It's awkward and off-balance, Etho leaning precariously over the side of the dock, and BDubs on his tip-toes, holding him in place. It isn't a hard grasp. At any moment, Etho can take his hand away. He has always been stronger than BDubs.

"Hey, Etho, I really have missed you, man," BDubs says, smiling fondly, his voice soft. It isn't a whisper. It simply isn't loud and brash like he normally is. Heartfelt. The kind of tone that beckons, that wants to be listened to. "I mean-- I've missed us doing things together. It reminds me of the good 'ol days, you know? NHO and Mindcrack. We make a good team."

"We do," Etho agrees. He takes a long, slow breath. He shivers.

He frowns.

Etho pulls his hand out of BDubs, and BDubs offers no resistance. Etho looks down at his hand, at the wrinkled, waterlogged skin. He rubs his thumb across his forefingers, feeling the odd texture, grounding himself on it. Etho takes a deep breath in, lets it out again slowly.

"How long have I been in the water, BDubs?" Etho whispers.

Etho is still holding the belt buckle in one hand, still looking down at the wrinkled fingers of his other. BDubs is still in front of him, only his head and shoulders above the water. Etho looks back over his shoulder. The dock is startlingly far away, the basket sitting on the very edge. Beyond it, his boots and water bucket are sitting in the grass beside rushes and willow branches.

"Does it matter?" BDubs asks, smiling gently.

Etho takes a long, deep breath through his nose.

"Oh, don't be scared," BDubs says, moving silently closer. He reaches out his hands and grasps Etho's arms, a gentle touch, reassuring. A friend trying to assuage fear. His eyes are blazing red and orange with the setting sun, but the sky is black and salted with stars. "I didn't drag you down here, Etho. You came to me, remember?"

"BDubs--"

"You know I'd never betray you," BDubs continues, taking a slow step backwards. He pulls Etho with him, and Etho, by habit and familiarity, takes a step forward. The allure of BDubs' voice tilts his vision. He's on the dock, holding the buckle that fell in the water, and BDubs is clasping his hands, and the sun is setting. The water is up to his chest, and the world is dark star-filled, and BDubs is taking another step backwards, and Etho is following. "I could have betrayed you day one, and I didn't. I'm just asking for your help, Etho. You and me together, right?"

"BDubs--"

"It's the deep water, isn't it?" BDubs croons, like he's speaking to a child. "The deep water scares you? It's okay. You're fine."

Etho is fine. His breathing is slow, his heartbeat even. He wants to be scared. He should be scared. But BDubs is his friend.

BDubs reaches up to Etho's neck, not to strangle or to threaten, but to gently cup his hands around him. He pulls gently on Etho, not to drag Etho down, but to raise himself up, so they're nearly eye to eye. Etho feels water around his shoulders, and shivers.

"It's okay," BDubs says. "I would never hurt you, I promise. We don't have to go any deeper." His voice even and calm, inexorable. Etho's pulse doesn't quicken when he says, "You know how many people drown in shallow water? It's easy. I'll be with you the whole time."

The water is around Etho's neck, and BDubs is above him just slightly. One hand raises slowly to the back of Etho's head, fingers gently tangling in his hair. It is the caress of someone who cares for him deeply, someone who wants him to stay. The feeling is wholly dissonant from the words being spoken. Water? Drowning? How could someone who loves him so much drown him?

"You want to stay with me, right?" BDubs asks. "You and me together, we'd be unstoppable, Etho. The best duo the Life Series has ever seen."

BDub's hand on Etho's neck moves just slightly, the thumb pulling around to rest on his adam's apple. The hand in his hair clenches just a little. A warning. "You're not thinking about betraying me, are you?"

Etho shivers again. He wants to be afraid.

"You know, Grian said some things before he drowned," BDubs's hand on his neck tightened just a little. Etho could feel his pulse against BDub's thumb, finally, finally beginning to quicken. "He said you were a survivor. He said you'd leave me -- heh -- high and dry. You wouldn't do that, would you, Etho?"

Etho's pulse quickened more. There was a cold numbness in his limbs that he hadn't even noticed gathering, and his sluggishly awakening panic pushed it from him.

"BDubs," Etho said, his voice small and hoarse in his throat, "let me go."

"Etho..." BDubs said warningly.

"Let me go!" Etho shouted, planting his hands on BDub's chest and shoving backwards away. What he felt, in that brief second, was neither skin nor flesh, nor the softness of fabric. He felt tangled river weeds, and fish scales, slimy and cold against his skin. The cursed thing that looked like BDubs but wasn't, released Etho spitefully. His claws tore from Etho's neck, scraped along the back of his head to come free with pale strands of his hair. Suddenly there were arms around him, and Etho screamed and thrashed as he was dragged.

"I've got you dude! I've got you!"

It was Skizz, his voice a thunderous bellow in Etho's ear, his arms feverishly hot against him where they clamped like vices around his waist. Skizz dragged Etho from the water like he weighed nothing. Etho got his feet underneath himself and clung to Skizz, staggering out of the water as quick as he could. He heard feet pounding on the dock, and glanced over to watch Tango sprint across the wood. He stooped, grabbed up Etho's basket, and sprinted back with it, the reaching, clawed hand of the thing that looked like BDubs snapping for his ankles and missing.

"I got him!" Skizz shouted to Tango, scrambling onto the grass, refusing to let Etho go until they were well up the path. "Did you see how close he was?!"

"Yeah I saw!" Tango snapped, choking on his own fear, gulping in air and coughing it back out again. "It tried to drag me in!"

"Oh my god, are you okay dude?" Skizz demanded, and, when Tango nodded, he turned back to Etho. "Are you okay? I didn't see you go under. Can you breathe?"

Etho, who had collapsed into the grass the moment Skizz released him, lay there gasping like a hooked fish. He shivered, pale and cold from how long he spent in the water-- how long had he been in the water. He could still feel the thing's burning claws in streaks across his neck, and a tickling of blood at the back of his head.

"Etho?"

"I'm okay," Etho gasped, "I'm sorry I just-- I needed-- I wanted--"

"I know what you wanted!" Tango snapped angrily, the anger of someone who had risked his life. The anger of someone who thought a friend of his was dead, or dying. "But it's not him, Etho."

"It sounds like him," Etho whispered. He threw an arm over his eyes and shivered again. "It sounds like him, though."

"I know it does buddy, I know," Skizz said, his voice full of sympathy and pity. He waited with mountainous patience as Etho pulled himself together, and then helped Etho stand.

Together, they walked back to the fort.

Behind them, something cursed and hungry in the dark water, sang, and its voice was sweet and familiar.

#the barking writer #ethoslab #bdoubleo100 #last life smp #llsmp #last life boogieman #tangotek #skizzleman #siren #siren!bdubs #last life au #last life series #god dont ask #just don't ask me okay i got like #i was having Visions From God #I needed to write scary siren bdubs trying to drown etho #i was aiming for spooky im not sure if i got there #this is unedited and unproofread #i just needed to get it Out Of My Head i do apologize

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evielmostdefinitely · 1 year ago

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a hazy shade of winter |young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|

prompt: wedding nuptials and coriolanus' upcoming inauguration, leads to press.

my first work lol <3 reader's surname is "duke" for the series. i picture the duke family being a rothschild similar type if that makes sense???

contains: possessive snow, nothing too graphic, he's manipulative and a little dark. established relationship. mentions of corio's mom. alludes to smut but none.

Coriolanus stared back at his own reflection, fastening the buttons to his shirt. A nicer fabric, Tigris still selected it but did not have to mend it together like before. No, now the Snow’s were back in power, still climbing that ladder of socialites and success- thanks to you.

A small rapping on the door pulled his attention. “Just a moment.” Corio huffed, looking at the clock. Flickerman’s producer said nine sharp, he still had twenty minutes.

The rapping didn’t stop, following again, heavier this time. Corio’s spine straightened, icy with fear. His mind raced with possibilities- a rebel outside the door, here to kill him; or perhaps it was the guards, they’d found the guns he threw in the river years ago and we're here for him too.

Corio reached for his own weapon, slinking to the door, peeking under the crack. Two white heels.

“Corio,” Your voice whispered, a hint of a giggle. “Let me in, Corio.”

Coriolanus relaxed, setting the weapon down, tucked under his jacket. The door opened, you in your pristine white outfit, the sapphire fixture on your ring finger. “What are you doing?” Corio scanned the hall. “You’re supposed to be in your dressing room.”

“Tigris finished with me.” You waved him off, slipping under his arm into his own dressing room. “She went to join my parents in the audience, and I wanted to see you.” You hum, eyes rolling down his frame.

Corio scoffed lightly, shutting the door. “This is improper.”

“I think they’ll forgive us, Corio.” You giggle. “We are married.” Your hand laid gently against his chest, smoothing out a crease on his collar, engagement ring sparkling even in the low light of the room.

Corio’s hand found yours, admiring the ring himself. His mother’s ring turned yours, one of the few items he had left of hers- that they hadn’t lost or sold to stay afloat. He added the halo of diamonds. After all, he was marrying into the Duke family, he needed it to be flashy- to be worthy.

“We’re not married yet, my love.” Corio muttered, thumb swiping over the ring. “Still two more sleeps.”

“And a press conference,” You sighed, leaning into his soft touch. “And a press tour.”

It had been your father’s idea. Coriolanus was to be President come the new term, and since marrying into Panem’s wealthiest, the press tour to each District seemed fitting. The communication was less and less now, Corio wanted to keep it that way, but have them still feel involved. Your father loved the idea.

“Mmm, but a solo press tour.” Corio hummed, nose brushing against yours gently. “Just us for weeks, days on the train. By ourselves.” His voice rapeseed, tone dropping to that dark octave that left you squirming, tummy flipping with excitement.

“We won’t really be alone.” You pouted, lip jutting in a petulant sort of sulk. It made Corio’s lip twitch. “There will be the peacekeepers and guards and Tigris and-”

“-But we’ll have a whole carriage to ourselves. A private one. I’ve made sure of it.” Coriolanus nodded, the pad of his thumb brushing over your lip. “Just for us. A honeymoon before we come back.”

You smiled softly, hands raking up the soft fabric of his shirt, careful not to bunch or wrinkle the fabric- you knew how much he hated that. Corio’s hands found your waist, pulling you into him, lips slotting over yours. He always took the lead, and you’d let him, his domineering personality never settling even in moments of intimacy.

Two sharp knocks pulled the two of you away, Coriolanus pausing rigidly. “Come in,” You called, your hand moving respectfully to his arm, smoothing out your skirt.

“Ah, the love birds.” Lucky Flickerman grinned. “See, Juno, I told you they’d be together, and it looks like they’re decent.”

Corio’s face swelled with heat, mouth settling in a fine, thin line. Once he was sworn into oath, he’d have his tongue cut out for that vulgar comment. Your hand squeezed his bicep lightly, soothingly.

“So, I wanted to give you the run down before we are live on the air to all of Panem.” Lucky grinned, you knew he was smug at his rising fame. “President Snow and the First Lady… Do you want me to address you as Snow or Duke?”

“Snow.” Corio hissed before you could respond. His hand was firm on your waist, pulling you possessively into him. “She is a Snow, now.”

Lucky blinked, awkwardly cutting his eyes to you. “Right. So President and First Lady Snow, we’ll talk about the wedding- the dress, the ring, the proposal, the details, the guest list. Really lean into that, ok? Get the viewers excited for the district press tour after.”

You nodded, Lucky’s droning instructions a blur to you. Your eyes caught sight of your and Coriolanus in the mirror. How tall he stood next to you, proud and boasted- powerful. He always had his chin held high, looking down his nose at others. You were just glad he had lessened the way he’d glare down at you, traded it in for a softer side you weren’t sure you’d ever see.

His hand stayed on the small of your back, respectfully, but holding that same ownership, leading you through the small studio. “You look beautiful.” Corio whispered, pushing a loose strand of hair back into place, tucking it behind your ear.

You blushed under his praise, looking down at your white kitten heels. “Don’t do that.” Corio frowned, hand pressing into the middle of your spine. “Stand up, darling. Don’t hide from them. Let them know.”

You followed him out, hand in hand, waving to the studio audience under blinding lights. Since the success of the Hunger Games, the donors- your family included- had poured in money to have the studio revamped. Something nice, more enticing. Your father and mother sat next to Tigris. Your fathers eyes were narrowed, watchful in nearly a predatory sense, a warning to the both of you.

“Mr. and Mr. Snow,” Lucky grinned, a toothy smile that dazzled under the lights. “Or so it will be soon, yes? The wedding is…”

“In two days.” Coriolanus nodded, shoulders squared, eyes sparkling, his hand rested on your knee.

“Marvelous, just marvelous. And what a beautiful couple they are, aren’t they?” Lucky turned to the audience, nodding at their applause.

You felt hot, skin boiling under the harsh lights, under your father and Corio’s even harsher stares. The pressure to not falter, not even for a moment, was making you dizzy. Do not stutter, sit up straight, smile.

“And don’t forget, President Snow and his First Lady will be making their way to each of the Districts out there before the Inauguration and of course, before the fifteenth Hunger Games.” Lucky called exaggeratedly, clapping with his cards with the audience. “Don’t forget to join us for the reapings, it’s only a month away, folks. And as always, Panem today, Panem tomorrow, and Panem forever.”

A pause and it was done. The lights went up, producers nodding, pulling out screens and wires. You looked to Coriolanus, but his attention was elsewhere.

“That was amazing.” Tigris greeted you with a warm smile. “You did not have to mention me as your designer. I told you to say the company-”

“-The company didn’t design my dress, you did.” You nodded, squeezing her arm affectionately. “And I’m not letting that bitter, miserable woman get the credit that you deserved, Tigris.”

Tigris beamed, hugging you briefly, before your father made his slow approach, your mother on his arm. He took slow, calculated steps, looking nearly bored, unimpressed. It made Corio’s heart race- he wanted to mimic it, perfect it to have the same reaction.

“My girl,” Your father gave a half smile, lips curling in nearly a snarl. “You did wonderful.”

“Thank you,” You nodded politely. “I was afraid I spoke too much.”

“Nonsense,” Your mother waved you off lightly, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “You did marvelous.” Her eyes cut over to Coriolanus. “You as well, dear.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Duke.” Corio nodded, hands clasped behind his back respectfully.

“Are you happy, boy?” Your father looked at Corio, eyes beady and sharpened. “Excited for the wedding? The inauguration?” It was no secret your father and his pull were behind the election, Corio knew that.

“Of course,” Corio nodded, his hand finding yours gently, squeezing it. “I’m overjoyed, Mr. Duke. Moreso for the wedding, of course, but the inauguration as well. It will be hard to replace President Ravinstill but-”

Your father lifted his hand. “Save it, boy. This isn’t a political rally, you’ve already won.” He scoffed, shaking his head. You didn’t miss the way Coriolauns stiffened, his grip tightening on your hand. “As long as you keep my daughter happy, then you have my support.”

“Thank you, sir.” Corio forced out a smile through clenched teeth.

“The rehearsal dinner is tomorrow. At the Trinket Estate Gardens, dear.” Your mother nodded at you, like you’d forget.

“I’ll see you then.” You hugged her briefly. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, darling girl.” Your father hugged you, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

He shook Corio’s hand firmly, a shake and a head nod before they were both whisked off, chatting to his other friends who showed. Corio wished he would have introduced him to a few, helped him build a rapport that way. There would be time, he reminded himself.

“Tigris,” You held Corio’s arm, craning around him towards his cousin on his other arm. “The white rose was a lovely touch.” You smiled, looking down at your corsage.

“Oh, that was Coriolanus’ idea.” Tigris hummed, looking at the blonde next to her. “He wanted you to have that.”

You beamed, looking up at your fiance. “You wanted me to have it?”

“I thought it was a nice touch.” Corio hummed, glancing down at you. “Thought you would enjoy it.”

“I do,” You mutter, lifting his hand to yours, lips brushing across his knuckles. Normally, he’d scold you for doing it in public. He was against any signs of PDA, a sign of weakness, he said. But he allowed it, even blushing from underneath his stiff collar.

“Save the I do’s for tomorrow.” Tigris grinned playfully at you. “What are you doing on your last night as a Duke? Going to District Two?”

Coriolanus glared at her, jaw set firmly. You shook your head lightly. “Packing.” You sighed. “We leave from the reception straight to the train.”

“Oh, I can help you-”

“-That’s alright.” You shake your head politely. “It’s just a few things. Sleepwear, toiletries- minimal things. But thank you.”

Tigris nodded back, pulling from Coriolanus gently. “I’ll wait for you in the car?”

“Go ahead without us.” Corio nodded. “We have to speak to a few sponsors after.”

Tigris nodded, waving goodbye to the both of you politely. You stepped into Corio’s dressing room, smoothing out your skirt. “We have to speak to sponsors?” You hummed, reaching for your zipper. “I thought you already did that?”

“I did.” Corio’s tone was chilling, clicking the lock to the door behind you. You stilled, eyes catching his gaze through the mirror.

Coriolanus stepped towards you, slow, calculated, with heavy footsteps. He grinned, satisfied, at how you shivered. His hands moved yours, unzipping your dress slowly. You stayed still, watching him for any sign of what was to come. You knew he’d never hurt you, purposefully, never risk what would happen if he laid a hand on you. Still, Corio was unpredictable- you hated the way it excited you.

“I just wanted a moment alone with my wife.” Corio’s breath was hot on the shell of your ear, shuddering under his touch when he pushed the fabric off your shoulders, exposing you. Bruising love bites on your chest from the night before. You wondered if his back still bore your long scratches from where you’d clawed and raked at his skin.

“‘M not your wife yet, Corio.” You met his gaze, rounded eyes that had his cock twitching. “Still another two sleeps.” You repeated his words from earlier, the tiniest grin on your lips.

“How do you want to spend your last night as a Duke, my love?” Corio’s lips ghosted over the skin of your cheek, hands gripping your waist.

“With you.” You whispered, leaning back against him. “I want to spend it with you, Coriolanus.”

Corio grinned, salacious and satisfied, fingers splaying over your jaw, holding you while he kissed you, slowly, passionately. Your pristine dress was on the floor, his hands in your hair, legs tangled around his waist while he melted you with every hot kiss.

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urstruly-ghst · 28 days ago

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more drabbles before i release my full fics !

sebek zigvolt he'd know nothing but love you in secret. casual smiles and longing stares thrown to your way as he hid behind the "mightier than thou" facade. he'll be in his room pining and piling up letters all addressed to you, but will never be sent. they pile up on his drawer hidden like his feelings and his true colors. he'd only wish that you feel the same.

vil schoenheit is so beautiful that you sometimes avoid him. when he tries to approach you, you'll shy away or sputter that you're busy. "sorry vil" became a tagline of yours. vil, at first, just chalk it up to actual reasons. then, it hurts. are you avoiding him? did he do something wrong? was he losing you?

inspired by "senses by MICO," — cater diamond would relate so much. he's amazing, so you say. but why doesn't it feel like it? shouldn't you shine more when he stands next to you, why do you dim your shine when he holds you close? cater would hear the whispers from people from his own thoughts. so, here he is, begging that you won't wake up from the dream you set for the two of you. you'll be with him, right? or was he just wishing on a star that long fell? maybe someday, you'll know that he wasn't the greatest option for you.

inspired by "risk by gracie abrams" — jump, you'll say, as you urge trey clover. in the river you both found, you ask trey to jump. he's sensible, he won't jump in. but why is it so enticing? this wasn't the first time he took the risk for you, it was rushing in his veins to risk it for you. it came to a point he'd often ask why is it hopelessly boring without you? he halts as he took of his coat and hat and jumped head first, feverishly holding you close. your lips both collide and only the river knows what trey ever felt for you in that moment. because once you both exit this scenery, you're back to strangers.

not edited, just thoughts

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #drabble #sebek zigvolt x reader #sebek zigvolt #vil schoenheit #vil shoenheit x reader #cater diamond #cater diamond x reader #trey clover #trey clover x reader

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shuenkio · 8 months ago

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Honeymoon 🌹

Paring: Heeseung X male!reader

Genre: Fluff & Smut

Cw: heavy nsfw ;) cum inside, belly bulge, unprotected sex etc

Summary: You want to ride that crazy cow ride, so hee offers you a free ride.

Read at your own risk.

Word: 2.5k

Lack of massive perfect words, pardon me if it overdoes [words]

Getting married to Heeseung after knowing each other for quite some time was a great experience. He was lovely, is a gentleman, loves to take care of you, and he's also a grandma's boy. You've never seen him cursing or doing dirty stuff like normal adults do; instead, he was soft toward you, as if you were his diamond. Or maybe he never showed up?

He decided to take you to his home for your Honey Moon together since he wanted to show you where he was growing up.

You agreed without any second thought; before the next thing you know, you're already standing under the hot sunlight, shining through your hat. The wind, the fresh air, and the summer felt so ascending.

"This is amazing, hee!" You said as you breathed in the cold breeze to your lungs. This is better than city life 360°.

"I know you would like it, Bob. Now let's go to my grandparents's house; we're going to stay there for a few days." He uttered as a soft smile spread over his face, signing in relief as you loved his idea of coming here.

Arriving at the destination, Heeseung's grandparents immediately came out and greeted both of you with a warm welcome. Not only do they support you, but they also love you as if you're their grandchild and treat you like everyone else.

They help to move your luggage and stuff, even though you insist they should not; however, it won't work for them. They also prepared your shared room with Heeseung with a lot of decorations that fit your personality, which show how much they're dragged into your background.

Thanking them is not enough; you want to pay back for all their hard work by showing your gratitude. Again, they won't let you, as they said your presence was more than enough for them. You were touched by their words, as you're on the edge of a crying river, but Heeseung was there to comfort you, or else you would look so ugly in front of them. They're so sweet.

During the day, after spending a night at Heeseung's grandparent's house, they suggested your husband take you somewhere nice for your honeymoon because Heeseung is an outside person. He knew a lot of places, and he was born here too, so don't question him.

Your husband thought for a while before making up his mind by taking you to the racetrack, where people love going there for horse riding, competition, bets for money, and many more thrilling events.

Your eyes filled with sparks when he recommended Racetrack for your date. You immediately said yes in an aggressive, cute manner. He was giggling at your reaction, smiling from ear to ear as he adored you even more.

"Okay, then let's go!"

At the racetrack.

Heeseung brought two tickets for both of you for the show of horse racing. The horse racing was epic; you've never seen such a thing like this before since you're a city boy.

Now you've realized that this is better than any sports you've watched, and you prefer watching this instead of football because, why not? This is so addictive; riding at a fast pace, reaching for the goal, definitely gives the rollercoaster feeling.

The show comes to an end with a winner, the one you're rooting for as You scream in victory and celebrate the moment with other people. Your lover was standing there beside you, a bit jealous that you forgot about him; however, he just shrugged it off and formed a delightful smile. Seeing you're happy makes him happy too, putting jealousy back away.

---

Making your way back home, out of the venue, your eyes suddenly lay on a carnival event. It's a crazy cow ride, where many people come to challenge a bull machine that moves at a wild speed. You release your hand from your husband's grip before running to see. I left Heeseung all alone once again as he scoff in upset with your childish behavior.

"Love! Love, can I ride that?? It's so cool." You said your eyes turned into stars watching the kids ride that crazy machine. Heeseung narrowed his eyebrow and took a closer look as he shook his head as a sign of no.

"Awwae, why not? I want to ride that, please." You beg, with your puppy eyes, for your husband's permission, but still, he's disagreeing. As he intertwined your hand, taking you home.

"Nope bob! It's getting late now, and that thing looks dangerous. You don't want to end up at the hospital, don't you?" He responds, barely looking at you while he's talking, which upsets you even more.

"But come on, love, it was once. I swear, I rarely come to a place like this. Give your husband a chance, please." You left no choice but to try all your methods to melt his heart, but nothing seemed to work on him; he was already ignoring you.

You pout in disappointment; let it be as you let out a heavy sign as a result.

A few minutes later, he suddenly spoke.

"There's something you can ride at home; stop sulking or I'll kiss your swollen lips." He finally broke his silence. In return, a joyful frown appears on your face, jumping in happiness.

"Really, but what kind? Like that machine one? There's another place nearby your grandparents house." You started to question him with a lot of questions. He answered with only one word.

"You'll see yourself, and it's also the real one." Heeseung replies, bending down to your level before whispering to your ear in a low, seductive tone. His hot breath hits your skin, giving you unexpected goosebumps.

"Tsk, I'll look forward to it then, but if you're lying to me, you're dead."

Walking into the room, you throw your body on the soft king bed size; you didn't even bother to get changed since you're too tired to do so. You nuzzle your face, dipping to the bed sheet, breathing in no space air, before you feel a warm hug pressed behind your back with his head brushing into the crooked of your neck.

"Hmm?" You hum in response, asking what he wanted, until something poked hard underneath your tailbone. You immediately open your eyes from your rest, knowing too well what exactly he wants.

"Hee?"

"Yea?"

"..."

"Sigh* yes, I want to start this with you, love." Heeseung said, his tone almost sounding guilty. You roll your eyes, lost in thought, asking him to leave your body. As you turn around, look at your surroundings.

"Bu-.. Y'know, are you thinking what I am thinking? This is your grandparents house." You utter, almost whisper, anxious at the idea that someone might catch both of you doing this couple stuff in the house, especially his grandparents.

Heeseung laughed under his throat, with a mix of excitement and humor. He moved closer to you as he cupped your face, looking at your endearment.

"Love! Once I closed this room's door, not even a single fly could interrupt us. This room is noisy. proof even if you're scream nobody gonna hear ya~" Heeseung mutters as his gaze grows darker at the thought of having you under him. You almost jaw-dropped upon hearing the dirty talk from your husband. This is probably just the beginning; what will come more once he gets full control of you?

"Wow, you're something darling, I have never seen you're like this before." You stutter. His eyes are burning, full of lust and desire, like a wolf wanted to breed its mate, dominant them until they're satisfied.

You move backwards using the strength in your arm until your back hits the headboard.

"I want to make sure, do you really want to have s- uh se-"

"Yes, I want to fuck you, mn! Don't be shy; this is our honeymoon after all, didn't it?" He smirked as his hand traced down on your skin in ecstasy. Your breath hitched at his touch; he was so good at this. Not even a day you'd thought one day you would have sex with him, since he's too good at hiding his wild side.

"Now do I have your permission, my love?" He licks his lip, patting like a puppy, as he feels like his bulge is getting more painful in these clothes.

You nod slowly and accept your fate. Heeseung is full of surprises. Even though you're now his husband, there are too many things he is hiding from you for real.

He began to take your clothes off piece by piece until you left with nothing but a naked body, which turned him on even more at your milky smooth skin. The heat in his body is getting out of control, begging to claim you sooner.

He soon ripped out his t-shirt and unbuckled his belt.Now both of your clothes are all over the floor, and your two naked bodies lie on the bed, ready for the real moment to start.

"One moment, mn." Heeseung stood up on his feet, went to close the door, and locked it as he found something in his bag. Then he pulled out a labricate.

Your mind went blank. Question yourself about how the hell he had that without your knowing. As you deep down in your mind, you remember the word he said—that he would take you to the crazy cow ride—but look at you and him now—very unholy.

Unexpectedly, He pulls your hip with both of his hands, making your head fall to the pillow. He positions himself in front of your entrance as he puts liquid on his huge cock and your hole.

"Hee hee, this is my first time!" You state it out of the blue, which makes him tilt his head in return. You expect a shock reaction from him; however, instead of confusion, a big grin spread across his face. He looks really happy right now after hearing that.

"Even better, love; don't worry, I'll be gentle."

You gulp down, ready for what is coming for you, with a mix of thrilling and nervous.

Without further ado, he put a tip inside you, and as a result, the two of you moan in unison. His head was big enough to spread your hole, rolling his hip to warm you up to get used to his massive size.

"Please put it in Heeseung; I want you." Your words slipped out of your mouth after you adjusted to the warm skin inside your asshole. His crotch was so big that you wanted them pulsing inside you to ruin your beautiful pink hole.

Heeseung didn't waste his time, pushing his shaft all inside in a swift motion. Once he's fully in, he begins to move slowly, still respecting your first-time experience.

His cock is not going to lie; feel too good for you to not grip on the bedsheets underneath. He's making your body tremble and shiver as a small belly bulge is visible on your skin, even though he's just pushing at a slow pace.

"Faster love! I want faster; I don't care anymore." You said this as you were still catching your breath at his slower speed. What will happen if he pounds on you like an animal?

"Your wish is my command, my little husband," he said, squeezing tight on your leg and throwing both of your legs on his shoulder. The next thing you know, he slams his crazy big cock inside you at rapid speed. Not even warning you.

Thumps thumps

The wet noise started to occur in the empty room, and with every pound he pushed in, his lower abdomen was always pressed against your butt cheeks, making you squirm in no time.

His cock spread your wall, almost tearing you into two, but as he continued to fuck you in, the painful feeling faded away, leaving only the arousal inside. Since this is your first time, naturally, your ass is clenching on his cock like a baby grip.

He cried out in gasps; your hole sent a shockwave to him. As he continues to grind his hip, jerking inside you, chasing for pleasure and climax,.

He increases his speed with every thrust once he gets full control and access to your body when your entrance gets used to his cock.

You catch out of your guard, and after he quickly changes his position, he puts you on top of his stomach, still buried inside of you, as he lay on the bed instead.

"You said you want to ride a crazy cow ride; go on~ ride me as you please, babe!" Your eyes went wide, realizing he's behind this. Your gaze softens, leaning down before you bite his bottom lip, kissing him in passionate tension. You no longer be mad at him because he's making you feel good right now. He returned your kiss, lurking his tongue inside your mouth with his wet saliva, eating you two in one at the same time.

"Fuck uhh," you quake, feeling a jolt send all over your body as your body signals your about to cum.

"Hee-ahh, narggg, I will cum on you. You want it?" You become more breathless with every thrust he pushes in, his finger still busy spreading your hole to take him all in.

"Don't hold back, love~ cum for me; now would you like it if I filled you in?" He's too close to the edges, hitting you in every sweet spot. He asked for your permission once again if he could spill his cum inside your hole. You nod aggressively without even answering him.

In the very last few final thrusts, his tip crushed on your G-spot, making you go insane for a sec, as your cum splashed out on his toned abs, unable to hold in.

"HOLY MOTHER FUCKER AHHH," your chest heaving in an error motion as you arch your back, throwing your face above the ceiling, to the sensitive pleasure he's pushing you in.

"Ah-... Ahhh, mn, I'm comming b-brace yourself." With another one last push, his cock started to twitching as the warm, hot seed filled you in. He let out a heavy moan, like vomit, as he reached his goal.

You collapse on his body while his cock falls out of your hole, like a river of cum dripping out of your entrance.

"That was one of the hell rides, mn? How do you feel, Mn? Am I hurting you?" He presses a kiss on your forehead as he holds on to your waist, supporting your weight on his.

You inhale and exhale, rolling your eyes to the back of your brain, still feeling it.

"I never know. Fuck feel this good."

"So you want another round, mn?"

"No, but I want you in."

"Like, what love?" He asked your unfinished question. You couldn't explain what your desire was to him, so you snaked your hand before grabbing his cock and pushing inside of you again.

"I love how you feel inside; please don't pull out." You responded embarrassed, covering your face in his chest. He snorted at your reaction and boldness, as he started to love this side of you.

"Anything you want, little one~ not to mention that I could be there forever if you insist."

🗣️ please mind my English! ><

🗣️Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥

🗣️ crd to all pics&dividers

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florencemtrash · 1 year ago

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The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Eleven

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: None. Gwyn and Y/n bond over books. Azriel and Y/n get even closer — this had me kicking my feet and screaming internally and externally

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Rhysand’s training sessions always started with him sliding over ten objects: a book, a piece of jewelry, an article of clothing — anything he could find with meaning for you to discern.

“This one is Mor’s.” You held the red satin box in your hands. Two months ago you would have only been able to tell him who it belonged to. Maybe nothing at all. The meaning held by the object was weak. The jewelry too new. Unworn. But now you could harness your power with more precision, like you’d finally been handed an image of the puzzle you were trying to complete so you knew what to look for. “You bought it two months ago at Cizero’s as a Winter Solstice gift.”

“And what is it exactly?”

The box was still closed.

You pushed your power forward, imagining light slipping in through the seam of the box. An image flashed in your mind. It was blurry, but held onto its form long enough for you to make it out.

“Drop earrings. Rubies,” you said with a straight back before dropping the box into Rhysand’s open palm.

He smirked and clicked it open. Gold banded rubies hung from the backing like bloody tears, each drop separated by a diamond that flashed brighter than the stars in the ever darkening sky.

You dared to smile, staring at the jewelry with a level of satisfaction you hadn’t felt since being handed top marks as an apprentice.

“Very nicely done.”

The box disappeared back into his desk beside a glimmering gemstone the size of your fist wrapped in tissue paper.

It’s probably for Amren. You thought to yourself. Azriel told you she loved shiny things and hoarded her treasures like a crow. Hence why she’d yet to return from Summer with Varian.

You moved on to the next portion of your exercises. With a feather light touch, Rhysand laid his hands on your palms, your wrists, your forearm, your shoulders. He moved up and down your body, waiting a minute for you to control yourself before touching the next flash of exposed skin. It was still difficult to completely contain your power, but you were getting better at moving it around your body. When he reached for your hands, you slid the magic up to your chest. When he reached for your knees, it moved down to your ankles. It was a delicate dance, like the curling of ocean water away from the shore or the splitting of a river around a stone.

You did what you could to experience the touches with a clinical detachment and Rhysand did as well. He was careful. He stopped the moment you let out a gasp of surprise at the feeling of warm skin pressed against your own and there wasn’t an ounce of judgement written in his beautiful features when you trembled beneath his touch.

“Take your time,” he said encouragingly.

For him, touch was a necessary part of life. He always had an arm slung over Cassian’s shoulders or wrapped around Feyre’s waist. He fell asleep with his mate pressed against him and he walked around the River House with Nyx on his shoulders and Velaria curled up in his arms. But there were also mornings when he’d wake up in a cold sweat, the feeling of Amarantha’s red-tipped nails dragging down his chest like she wanted to take more from him than just his body. Those were the days Feyre knew to give him his space.

“Take all the time that you need.”

Rhys stepped away. You steadied your breath and took time to record your progress in the journal you kept close by. Although there was no true way to quantify your learning, your Day Court training never left you and you wrote down what little could be put into words — for posterity’s sake. Then maybe the next Clairvoyant the Mother willed into existence would have an easier time navigating this than you.

Gwyn found you squirreled away in your usual reading room, back bowed over a flurry of books and note pages like a reed in the wind. You reached for the mug on the desk only to find it disappointingly empty. Unlike the River House, the Library did not fuel your caffeine addiction with reckless abandon.

She floated over, abandoning the cart of books she’d been tasked with returning that night. Her legs were throbbing from the split squats Cassian had coached her through that evening, and she was desperate for a break.

“Some light reading, I see?” she teased, sinking into the seat across from you.

You looked up, eyes red-rimmed and swollen. It took a few moments for Gwyn’s shape to come into focus.

“What?” The word slurred coming out of your mouth.

She tapped the ever growing pile of papers beside you. Your manuscript: 120 hand-written pages and counting. When the book became too frustrating to handle, you abandoned it in exchange for another productive task. Even if the 120 pages you’d reproduced were utter garbage.

You groaned, forehead slamming against the wood with a clatter. Thoughts of white blood cells, lymphatic vessels, and innate and acquired immunity knotted in your brain like the world’s worst game of cat’s cradle.

Gwyn would have found it amusing if she didn’t know just how much time you spent within the mountain. You’d effectively been adopted by the priestesses. Lurking here and there like a cat coming in from the cold. And you were just as disapproving as a stray. Gwyn would often catch you among the stacks, mumbling about the disorganization and how you couldn’t work in such paltry conditions.

“Cauldron boil me, I’m sorry for asking.” Gwyn raised her hands in surrender.

You let out a great, heaving sigh. “It’s not you.”

“Oh I know it’s not me. You look like you’ve been dragged through a gutter.”

You blinked wearily at the lovely priestess.

“A very clean, well-managed gutter.” She grinned. Her skin shone, reflecting the pale, fuzzy moonlight that filtered through the window above and doused the library in a silver sheen.

“Thank you, Gwyn.”

“Anytime.” She drummed her nails against the table, the beat of it almost sending you to sleep. “How long have you been here today?” she asked with concern.

“I don’t know. What time is it?”

“After midnight.”

“Oh.”

“How long?” Gwyn repeated and you dragged a hand down your face.

“Seven hours? Give or take?” Your stomach growled.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.”

Gwyn grabbed you by the end of your robes, tugging you up several floors and down an unfamiliar hallway until you stopped in front of a teal-blue tapestry. Selkies, sirens, and water nymphs dove in and out of rippling waters highlighted by iridescent beads. She flung it to the side and pressed her hand against the bare stone. The slab sank into the wall and then slid open to reveal a cream-colored room adorned with bundles of babies' breath.

“Sit,” she commanded, pointing to the neatly made bed. You swayed dangerously on your feet.

“I’m really fine. I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“Sit. Down.” She cut you with a lethal gaze Nesta would be proud of.

You snapped your mouth shut, shuffled across the carpeted floor, and sank into the queen-sized bed. You played with the ties of your robe wrapping them around your finger, then unwrapping them, then wrapping them again.

King Tiberion, third of the Nachmanian line, born Aschieron Cambria Nostrus Tiberion Dalgna to Effel Taul and foreign-born…

Found dead at a young three-hundred-and-ninety-two years of age at the hands of her brother. Spell cleaver or not, Ingrid…

Something like a lock and a key. Magic that’s perfectly complementary might be afforded the unique ability to seal… and break… gods I’m tired…

There have only been seven recorded Shadowsingers in history: Lovania Vallant born 895 in the age of Alders (see ref. 18992HBG Carstairs), Gherald Dashiv born 1459 in the age of —

Gwyn snapped her fingers in front of you, pulling your mind out of the hurricane of thoughts. You were a strange creature. You spoke little, moved about the Library as quiet as a mouse, and you had an interesting habit of running your fingers along every book on the shelf. Back and forth, back and forth you’d run along before jerking to a stop like one of the books had caught you at the end of a fishing lure.

“Are you ok?”

“I’m fine,” you repeated.

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“Some would say that’s a good thing. It would make me incredibly trustworthy, at least when it comes to responding to things. I’d be terrible at keeping secrets, unless I was very careful about how I went about things. You know how it is. With the things.”

Gwyn huffed with silent laughter and opened one of the cabinets in her small, makeshift kitchen. “Eat.” She commanded again and you were too slow to catch the sleeve of biscuits she tossed in your direction. It bounced off your forehead and landed in your lap. “I’ll be right back with something more substantial.”

The door shut with a puff of air and you were left to chew on the chocolate and orange biscuits in silence.

Gwyn’s room faced the city and you saw the lamplights burning through the windows that had been cut into the mountain rock, mimicking the stars that twinkled overhead like salt poured onto black glass.

Cream satin sheets caught the moonlight until it glowed and you had the sudden urge to tip back and fall into oblivion. You could work for a long while, so long as you didn’t sit still long enough for the exhaustion to catch up to you — which you were doing now.

You shoved another biscuit in your mouth, now almost halfway through the sleeve. It helped settle the hollowness in your stomach so you could pick yourself up and move over to the bookshelf.

Bodice ripper, bodice ripper, murder mystery, bodice ripper, romantic comedy, found family adventure, spy thriller, bod—

Your face went red. Damn.

The priestess chose that moment to return to her room carrying a tray laden with bread, orange slices, and a thick mushroom stew leftover from dinner. She froze, pale cheeks turning a dusty rose as you silently pushed the book back onto the shelf.

“Dragon-born? Really?” You shoved a burning spoonful of stew in your mouth and drowned the stale crust of bread, waiting for it to get sufficiently soggy enough you could chew it.

Gwyn groaned and buried her face in her pillows. “It was a phase.”

“Must have been a very long phase. You have the whole series and I know it took her thirty years to write them all.”

Her head shot up. “How do you know?”

“I read the first book.”

You sat up straighter, back pressed up against the closet that housed her daily robes, ceremonial garb, training gear, and Valkyrie armour.

“So how can you judge me?!”

“It makes no anatomical sense, Gwyn!” You threw your hands up in the air. “She’s four feet shorter than him. He’d sooner tear her in half before giving her any pleasure, and I’m not talking about his claws.”

The priestess scoffed. “Have some imagination, Y/n.”

You huffed and pulled out a notebook from your ample pockets. You both spent the next thirty minutes going through hastily drawn sketches that would have disappointed Feyre to no end testing out your imaginative capabilities. Gwyn couldn’t stop smiling at you as you moved your hands through the air with animated fervor. Half of what you said didn’t make sense, but she would blame it on your sleep deprivation.

You had Gwyn in stitches. The female hung off the bed, red-brown hair brushing the ground as she gasped for breath. You looked like you were sitting on the ceiling, black robes pooled around your knees like shadows.

That sobered Gwyn up a bit. It was a real shame she liked you as much as she did. It made it harder for her to stay mad at Azriel.

And as if you read her mind, you asked, “Why don’t you come around to the River House?”

“What?” She wasn’t laughing anymore.

“Why don’t you come to the River House?” You asked again. “You’re close friends with Nesta. You’re part of the Inner Circle. You have a guest room there, but I haven’t seen you at the house.”

“Do you even spend enough time at the River House to know?”

“Yes.”

Gwyn sighed and straightened up, folding her legs neatly beneath her on the bed. “Some… Some things happened a couple years ago. I won’t bore you with the details and I don’t know if I even have the right to tell you everything, but it’s colored the way the Inner Circle works now.”

“The details are the most important part,” you murmured, “I wish I had more details. Then maybe I wouldn’t feel like such a stranger in that house.”

“You’re not a stranger,” Gwyn reassured you. “Is that why you spend so much time here?” she asked with genuine curiosity.

“Yes and no. It feels closer to home here. Even if your lack of organization has made my job ten times more difficult. I don’t see why you haven’t adopted any kind of classification system. It’s a small library. It would be very easy to implement.” You sighed and rubbed your eyes. Gods, you were tired. The feeling came and went in waves. “I shouldn’t complain though, everyone has been incredibly kind and welcoming. Especially Azriel.”

You wrapped your arms around yourself, fingers fluttering against your shoulders. You tucked your chin into your elbows and tried not to think about that glorious night of sleep with only Azriel and his shadows. Waking up with his chest rising and falling on the floor beside you.

You were falling for him and you knew it. Gods did you know it. Or maybe you could convince yourself you weren’t falling yet, but it was a steady march to the cliff’s edge and you weren’t stopping anytime soon.

Gwyn felt her heart stutter. “Oh? He’s usually so… quiet and… reserved.”

You thought about it for a long while.

“I don’t think he’s nearly as quiet as everyone believes him to be,” you said thoughtfully, “I think he just speaks in his own way.”

You were right about Godswood and The Gallows.

The letter arrived on your desk early in the morning.

The Bookkeeper, Taunum Hyst, was found trying to burn books in the western greenwoods along with some texts from Argot’s. He fought back against the guards sent to retrieve him, but he didn’t know what he was doing. Even now he’s confused and adamant that the last three weeks have been a blur. There’s a daemati at work here. Someone other than Henna. Rhysand knows, if he hasn’t already told you.

I’ve sent a translated folktale in old Bauldish and Common, and another in Demnyon along with the others you asked for. They might be worth looking into to help with the book. I hope you’re enjoying your stay at the Night Court. Happy hunting and stay safe.

~ Helion

You were right.

You dropped the letter, hands coming up to your mouth as you took in a deep, shaky breath. You knew Taunum Hyst. You could picture his salt-grey braids and coal-black skin. He’d helped perform the funeral rites for your mother. Hell he’d managed to make you laugh that terrible day.

Your stomach turned. If there truly was another daemati left in the Day Court that could help explain the killings. Either the Librarians could have died trying to keep the knowledge in their minds safe, or the daemati had made them kill themselves before moving onto their next victim. You didn’t know which was more tragic.

The clock rang eleven bells and you hastily folded up the paper, dropping it into the box along with the rest of your father’s letters.

“I think this might be the first time you’ve ever been late,” Rhysand said with an amused smirk. He leaned against the doorway to his office, ankles crossed over one another. Did that male ever stand normally?

“It is the first time.”

“Of course you would know that.”

You smirked, pushing open the door to find—

“Azriel?”

The Shadowsinger stood with his hands neatly folded behind his back. “Y/n?”

“Cassian!” The Lord of Bloodshed leapt in front of his brother, arms spread wide. “I’m also here. Nesta couldn’t make it with Valkyrie training.”

Feyre rolled her eyes with affection. She reached for Rhysand’s hand without thinking and he accepted with barely a glance. They were two magnets, always pulled towards one another in space.

“What’s going on?” You glanced back and forth between them all. It had always been just you and Rhysand during these lessons.

“I thought it would be good to start practicing with other people when it comes to physical touch,” Rhysand explained. Azriel’s nostrils flared. “You’re getting comfortable with me, which I’m happy about. But I want you to get comfortable with everyone else too.”

You told me you wanted another debrief about the Mortal Lands. Azriel was loath to admit that just the thought of touching your hand was making his heart race like a schoolboy.

And I do. Rhysand said rather smugly, as if he already knew Azriel was freaking out inside. But I also know you wouldn’t have agreed to this if I asked you ahead of time. It’s amusing to see you like this, brother. Have you forgotten how to touch a female? His violet eyes glittered with mischief.

Azriel swallowed, eyes trained on you as you mulled over Rhysand’s comment and nodded. You wanted to be comfortable too. Comfortable in your body. Comfortable with other people touching you.

You thought of what it might feel like to have Azriel’s hand tucked beneath your chin, not just his shadows, and shivered.

Azriel nearly choked when you started undoing the ties of your robes. The gold embroidered fabric slipped off your shoulders in a soft hush that had Azriel going rigid. You wore traditional Night Court fashion beneath your Librarian robes — a tight black shirt revealed the gentle curves of your arms, the cut of your collarbones against your chest, the thin band of flesh around your stomach; a breezy skirt with slits cut into the sides that revealed flashes of your thighs with every movement you made.

Feyre, Rhysand, and Cassian all shared looks, nearly bursting out laughing at the way Azriel’s shadows were in flight around him. A swarm of bees buzzing and murmuring about how beautiful you looked.

Azriel had seen many fae in his time in various states of undress. He’d seen males and females in the Court of Nightmares parade about in scraps of silk and lace. He’d taken countless lovers to bed. Bodies were something he knew well. Something he knew intimately. But he had never felt so flustered as he did looking at you like this. He thought his heart might just burst in his chest.

Cassian elbowed Azriel in the ribs when you weren’t looking and one of Azriel’s shadows looped around his ponytail and pulled.

“Ow.” Cassian rubbed the back of his head with a grin. “Rude.”

You felt rather ridiculous standing in the center of the room with your arms and legs stretched out to the side.

“Right arm,” Rhysand called out.

Cassian bounced back and forth on the balls of his feet, fists held loose by his sides with the lightness of a male a quarter of his size.

You squinted. Is he… is he about to punch me?

Cassian read the alarm on your face and grinned, hitting you with a tap gentler than rainfall.

You snorted, but felt nothing. Perfect.

You had to be grateful for Cassian’s light-heartedness. He had the worry melting off your shoulders. With every limb that Rhys called out, Cassian would do a little dance before punching you or kicking you. At one point he even faked a blow to your face, spinning up to you before leaping into the air and shooting out his right leg. You didn’t flinch as his boot swung an inch away from your face. You could smell the rubber soles of his boots.

“You missed,” you teased.

Cassian pouted, turning around to walk back to the wall now that he was finished with his piece. Azriel looked ready to tear his head off his body.

You’re lucky you missed. Azriel’s eyes screamed across the room. You’d be a dead man if you hurt her.

Cassian winked and blew him a kiss.

Feyre was next. You practiced brushing against her like you would do in a crowded street complete with the obligatory fumbling of apologies.

“Oh good heavens.” Feyre fanned her face like the old, upper-class women in her village used to do and laid on that sickly sweet accent they all had. “I’m so dreadfully sorry.” — They never were.

She shook your hand and touched your shoulders and looped her arm around your waist. That was the part that had you worried. You slid your power away from every inch of your skin, wrapped it up like a secret, and held it deepin your chest.

“Good.” Rhysand smiled and Cassian punched the air.

You breathed deeply and gave a small bow like you’d just finished a performance. But there was still one person you were meant to touch today, and they made you the most nervous of all.

Azriel stepped forward, a picture of calm. Inside, he was raging like a storm. He kept his hands firmly grasped behind his back, wings pressed so tightly he felt his shoulders start to ache.

You took a step forward as well, tilting your head back to look at him. You felt the grip on your power falter when he held out his hand palm up like he was asking you for a dance. Months ago at the Summer Solstice ball you’d been approached by a number of males hoping for a song with their hands at your waist and at your shoulder. The prospect of that kind of touch had terrified you then, and it still terrified you now but for different reasons. Because this time, you wanted it.

You wanted him.

You gently slid your hand into his, feeling the scars roll beneath your soft skin like the mountains that surrounded Velaris. Your breath caught in your throat, but before Azriel could rip his hand away you held on and squeezed reassuringly.

You’d read hundreds, if not thousands, of romance novels in your time. You’d consumed them with a ravenous hunger, surviving on them when real touch felt like a hopeless dream and the loneliness became too much to bear. And in nearly every single one of them, the first touch between lovers was described as an explosion of color. A dangerous shaking of the world down to its foundations. A cataclysmic event.

But you were surprised to find that they were wrong. They were all wrong. Azriel wasn’t destroying anything. He was mending.

It felt like a re-centering. The shifting of a leaning tower so it stood upright again.

A blissful silence.

Azriel cradled your hand in his, thumbs smoothing over your knuckles. He couldn’t help what he did next, couldn’t have stopped himself even if Helion stood at his back with murder in his eyes.

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your hand with such reverence, such tenderness, that you swore your heart was glowing in your chest.

“Why don’t you try a hug, Y/n?” Rhysand suggested when Azriel had straightened. “If you want.”

You looked down at your feet where shadows swarmed, and then up at Azriel.

“What do you say, Y/n?” Azriel murmured softly. His words were for you and you only. “Where would you have me touch you?” His hazel eyes caught the light before scattering into a thousand brilliant colors.

Wordlessly you ran your fingers down his arms, tracing the shape of the muscle beneath the leather. You held his hands and gently led them up to your waist, gasping when he made contact. His warm fingers brushed the exposed skin of your waist before sliding around to your back.

You balanced on the tips of your toes, looping your arms around his neck before resting your face in the hollow between his neck and shoulder. He smelled like leather and the mountains. Wind and rain and nightfall coalescing into something so uniquely him you could pick him out in a room of thousands with your eyes closed.

It started out as a loose, misshapen thing, your hands and his arms searching for the right grip to hold your bodies together. But once you found it, you were lost.

Azriel wrapped his arms around your back and waist, hands splayed out like he was absorbing you into him. And you were no better. You buried your face in his neck, lips pressed up against the curve of his throat so you could feel the rhythmic rush of blood through his veins.

He refused to be the first to let go. The roof could cave in. The floor could drop out from beneath your feet. He would not let you go.

Your tears started out slow, coupled by ragged, shallow breaths.

“I’ve got you, Y/n,” Azriel whispered. “I’ve got you.”

How long had it been since you’d been held like this? A hundred years? Two hundred? You thought you’d learned to live without it, but now that it was yours you didn’t think you’d ever, ever be able to give it up. You were at the cliff’s edge now and without an ounce of hesitation you flung yourself over and into the abyss.

With Azriel, controlling your powers didn’t seem like such a difficult thing. Later that evening when you lay in bed staring up at the ceiling, you realized you hadn’t been thinking of control at all.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______________

Author's Note:

Y'all... THEY FINALLY TOUCHED EACH OTHER! And not only that, BUT HE KISSED HER HAND!!! And! They fucking HUGGED!!!!

#azriel x reader #azriel x reader slow burn #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #the shadowsinger and the inkbird

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tadpolesonalgae · 3 months ago

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Stalking Through The Underbrush[*]

Naga!Eris x reader

a/n: it’s October, of course there’s going to be at least one monsterfcking fic <3

synopsis: you’re used to cohabiting with the magical creatures of the forest, but when a naga snatches you from your morning walk and drags you down into his nest, claiming to be your mate, you have more than a few outraged questions to ask. Ones you hadn’t expected for him to show you the answers to.

warnings: teratophilia; dubcon; smut; naga!Eris; mentioned somnophilia; double penetration; overstimulation; cum play; brief fingering; oral (f receiving); secretion of an aphrodisiac

word count: 12,129

Dividers by @tsunami-of-tears

Autumn frost has already begun crisping the chalky red-orange leaves, ensconcing peeling bark and decaying plants in millions of tiny shimmering diamonds that glitter in the early morning light.

Hot, misty breath curls from Eris’ nostrils, exhaling in tendrils that billow above the rolling fog floating up from the river. His claws glitter in the watery sunlight, spritzed with heavy condensation and dew drops that have fallen from the tall grass blades that brush his furred underbelly. It’s a temporary discomfort but one he has to undergo if he wants to keep track of his little mate.

It’s already late autumn and he has yet to approach you. If he doesn’t secure you soon, you might very well be snatched up by another creature like him, one equally in need of a warm, supple body to keep heat throughout winter. To bring food back to and to curl up against, to wrap around your comparatively slight figure and tuck himself into your scent.

He’s found the perfect cave for them, inlaid with three of the thickly lined fleeces he’d dragged out of your open window one summer night—they don’t hold your smell as strongly as they had at first and it’s making him anxious to take you. The cave itself is near enough to the river to gather water, while remaining deep enough in the rock that any creature that might try to follow in after you will surely die from traversing the winding tunnel systems. Also deep enough to retain any heat started in the centre of the main cave. He’s certain you’ll love it once you’re there.

As for now, he can hear your boots crushing through the frozen leaves, crisping and crunching with each step you take. He lowers closer to the ground as he prowls forward, tracking you through the forest, creeping along adjacent to your path, searching for the perfect moment to take you back to the nest he’s prepared.

Then he can have you all to himself. Explore the appealing sweep of your hips, the softness of your thighs and calves, the delicate skin wrapping your waist. Eris’ teeth glitter in the light as his tongue wet his lips and nose, saliva releasing through his mouth at the thought of having you nesting beside him, at long last freed from those awful clothes he knows scratch at your body. You’ll look so pretty and full once he’s done with you.

He’ll take you today. On your way to the river. Then he’ll have his mate secured for winter.

————

You don’t sense any eyes on you as you make your way to the river first thing in the morning. It’s quiet and the air is pleasantly crisp though there’s a definite chill that’s already beginning bite at your throat and nostrils.

The empty bucket on your arm bumps into your hip again and you attempt to shift it so it won’t be knocking into your leg with every step. It’s tiring doing this every morning. Making the walk down to the river. If you lived closer you wouldn’t have this problem but you’re stranded enough as it is out in the woods all by yourself. Besides, you can’t afford to move, and there aren’t even any homes nearby. You’d have to either build it yourself of scrape together the small fortune it would take to have one built for you. Which is never going to happen. So for now you’ll continue with the long morning walks.

You don’t even see him prowling forward from the undergrowth.

He’s completely undetectable to your senses, swiftly bounding up behind you and sliding his lower canines through the bodice of your dress. One moment you’re walking on your own, trying to find a comfortable way to hold the bucket; the next you’ve been suspended in the air, bucket clattering to the floor and rolling thrice across the ground while the waist of your bodice tightens around your body and the creature that’s lifted you begins proudly padding back into the woods.

Your feet swing frantically as you kick, palms shakily trying to bat at the large creature that’s effortlessly hauling you through the forest, removing you further and further from the path.

“Put me down!” You exclaim, trying to swat at his great body, but he’s carrying you by the backing of your dress and it’s impossible to reach him. You’re entirely unsure what to do—you’ve met the creatures of these woods plenty of times before, and they’ve never given you any trouble. At most a small pack of sprites might stop by your house until dawn arrived, but then they’d be on their way and might even have left you something on the kitchen table in thanks.

But a beast this large?

You’ve only seen them in the distance—heard about their kind grazing on the grassy fields atop the mountain sides during summer, then going into hibernation during the cold months.

Your stomach drops when you spot the cave opening he’s bringing you to, frantically swinging back and forth in attempt to possibly tear the fabric, allowing you to drop to the floor and run away but—the fabric holds. You try kicking and squirming, try waving your arms, try yelling at him to let you go but you don’t even know if this one is one that can speak your language.

It’s only once you’re deep inside the tunnel system—so turned around you’re certain you’d become well and truly lost if you attempted to venture out—that he sets you down on- “These are mine!”

Sure enough you recognise the three fleeces you’d bought to prepare for winter that had gone missing months ago—he’d been behind that? He’s taken them from your home? When you’d been asleep? He’d been inside your house while you’d been sleeping?

On faintly trembling legs you get to your feet and turn, only to find he’s shifted.

From what you’d seen on the way over he’d been some sort of large, quadrupedal beast, but now…

You swallow, taking some subconscious steps back. “You’re a naga.”

His tail coils tight beneath him, arms folding over his chest, his long, fiery hair hanging soft and silky over broad, dark-spotted shoulders. You have to crane your neck to look up at him even at the distance you are from one another. His pupils flicker, a serpentine tongue flickering out once causing you to retreat a few more sudden steps.

His eyes drop to your feet, a low hissing noise releasing from his chest, then he’s slithering forward and you yelp, trying to scramble further back but one of his large, clawed hands has wrapped around your ankle and you topple backward as it’s pulled out from underneath you. The fleece cushions your fall but you still try and kick as the naga looms over your, claws lightly scratching at the exposed skin of your calves, your dress pooling around your thighs on the floor.

“Get off me!” You demand, a prominent edge of terror in your voice, afraid that if you squirm too much you’ll cut yourself on his claws. “Let me go!”

Slitted pupils flick upwards to meet your eyes and you feel like he’s pinning you to the ground with that look alone, never mind his grip tightening on your leg. Gods, he’s about to bite you and drain the blood from your body. Or sink his fangs into your throat to secrete a paralysing venom into your bloodstream so he can unhinge his jaw and swallow you whole. But instead the claws sink back into his fingers. “Take your boots off.”

You freeze, having not expected the creature to speak.

The naga watches you silently then his fingers begin working, deftly untying the strings of your boots until you’re free and bare-footed, pale socks peeled from your delicate feet, carefully discarded in a heap with your shoes. But instead of releasing your leg his eyes seem to wander, skimming up your shin to the underside of your thigh. You squirm when you realise he can probably see your underwear.

“What are you- let me go…!” You put as much command into your voice as you can manage but there’s a distinct wobble. You’ve heard animals can sense fear—a mythical creature like him can probably tell every thought that passes through your mind without even trying. Oh Gods.

“What are you-… What do you want from me? You should let me go.” You try to pull your leg from his hold but it’s useless, even when you use your other foot to try and push him off he keeps his grip firm. “You… Take me back. I need to go back to my home. Show me out.”

His tongue flickers out again and you realise it’s forked like a snake’s. You shrink away.

The naga follows after you and the blood drains from your features as he reaches for you. Your eyes squeeze shut, bracing for claws, heart pounding. But his fingers slide through your hair, palm settling against your cheek followed by the silky tickle of hair and the cool exhale of breath ghosting your throat.

You peek your eyes open to find him much closer, staring at you intently. He’s slithered forward, his human-looking torso looming over you, where his tail connects to his hips settled between your legs. “I… Let me go,” you whisper, “please.” But he shakes his head, hair tickling your collar bones. Your lower lip wobbles. “What are you…what are you going to do with me?”

His tongue flickers out over his lips, then his gaze trails over you, his fingers trailing up the outside of your thigh, bringing the hem of your dress with him until the fabric pools around your hips. He doesn’t stop there. Fingers graze the band of your underwear, skimming upward until they meet the ripped bodice of your dress.

You whimper, trying to squirm away but he’s placed himself between your legs. You can hardly see him in the darkness of the caves, the damp, cloying cold of the subterranean cavern. A shiver runs up your spine, skin littered in goosebumps.

The naga’s touch pauses. “You’re cold.”

You stare at him. Shivering in the cold and dark, able to only just make out his shape and the spots of his skin. The luminescent amber of his eyes that makes him look like a nightmare. You nod your head.

A fire flickers to life in the middle of the cave and light flares along the walls. The warmth is almost immediate, heat beginning to roll from the crackling fire and your lips part in surprise and awe. You hadn’t realised they possessed elemental magic.

The naga’s fingers graze your collar bones, snapping your attention back to him. “You’re still cold.”

“It’ll-… It’ll take a while…” You reply, unsure how to take him in. He doesn’t look as terrifying in the light as he had in the dark. Though he’s still terrifying. Just less so now that he isn’t a pair of glowing irises.

“You didn’t answer my question,” you push, forcing the terror from your voice trying to keep yourself strong. The naga’s tongue flickers again but remains silent, waiting for you to speak it looks like. Your throat rolls. You incline your chin. “What are you…going to do with me?”

Both his hands fall to your hips, effortlessly suspending himself over you as he helps the fabric of your dress glide further up your hips to be out of the way. “You’re staying with me throughout winter,” he answers. You shriek when his claws slide out again, slipping beneath the front of the bodice and slice upward, shredding the rest of the dress. Your arms slap over your chest, trying to wriggle further away from him, back still padded by the thickly lined fleece, muffling the hard abrasion of the rock enough to be surprisingly comfortable.

“You can’t just- What? You can’t just take me to…into your hibernation!” You try to scramble away but the hold he has on your hips keeps you from going anywhere anyway.

“You’re my mate. You’re staying with me throughout winter. At least.”

“This is the first I’m hearing of it!”

The naga pauses, his amber eyes glancing away for a second of…guilt? But then he looks back to you, his hold having lessened. “I didn’t want to frighten you.”

“You didn’t want to… Are you-? Are you mad?”

His amber eyes narrow. “You don’t like it?”

“These are mine.” You snap, gesturing to the fleeces. “You stole them from me.”

“So you’d be comfortable. The rock would have been hard on your bones and skin otherwise.” His brows narrow in displeasure, tongue flickering. “I can get rid of them and keep you on the bare floor if you’d prefer?”

“I’d prefer to be taken back to the path you took me from.”

“No.”

“No?” You splutter. “What do you mean ‘no’?”

“You’re my mate,” he repeats, a displeased drawl appearing. “You’re staying with me throughout hibernation.”

“I don’t want to.” You further fold your arms. “Take me back.”

“You struggle during winter,” he points out, snatching your attention. “You struggle to keep yourself warm, to find food, to keep your life going during the winter. I can keep you warm, and keep you fed, and you can bring anything you like down here. It’s for you.”

“I don’t even know your name. I’m not-”

“Eris.”

You blink, pausing. “What?”

“My name. It’s Eris.”

“Oh.” Your hold on your clothes lessens, relaxed somewhat. “I didn’t think you had names.” You wince when a scowl works its way between his brows. “I didn’t think you were so impolite.”

It’s your turn to scowl. “So take me back.”

“I can’t just exchange my mate for another one.”

“You can’t just take me from my home.”

“You’re not that far away,” he counters, “and you’ll be safe here.” His amber eyes glint, one edge of his narrow lips curving. “And you won’t have to worry about anyone peeping through your windows, either.”

Your eyes widen, cheeks flushing with wild heat, the fire suddenly beginning to feel like it’s putting out too much warmth. “You-…” You’re speechless.

“You shouldn’t leave your windows wide open at night.” He muses, tail swishing behind him. “Especially not when you’re completely bare. Anyone could have seen.”

“You were watching me?” You exclaim, outrage and…something else fuelling the heat in your cheeks. But his tongue flickers again, hold tightening on your hips, leaning closer, “you do have a wonderful figure.”

Your mouth pops open, then your hand is flying through the air, aiming to smack him hard across the jaw but he catches it easily. Pushing himself closer. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about. You’re lovely.”

Why are his words having an effect on you? Why is there a warmth in your chest? It’s probably the fire. It’s definitely the fire. It has to be the fire. No way he’s seducing you.

You turn your head to the side. “You’re just saying that.”

It’s the opening he’s looking for, one he knew you’d give him at some point.

His fingers curl around your dress and the next moment he’s pulled it clean from your body, leaving you only in the underwear that’s hugging your hips.

A shocked gasp leaves your mouth, eyes going wide as you try to hide your breasts but his large palms have already loosely wrapped around your wrists, holding them down into the thick fleece. You flush deeply, squirming beneath him, embarrassed at how much of you he can now see. How bare you are beneath him. “Let me go…! You- You’re a-…”

“Mhmm?”

The flush deepens at his low drawl, the heat creeping southward from where it had gathered in your chest, delicately spreading to your lower stomach…your abdomen…your thighs… “Let go of me, Eris.” The naga’s pupils momentarily expand and for a moment he looks so frighteningly human you subtly lift your chin from the fleece.

You hardly notice the questioning look in his eyes as he approaches until his lips are tentatively pressed against your own.

You don’t immediately recoil.

You don’t recoil at all.

His mouth is soft. Elegant and narrow, lips hiding the piercing tip of his fangs. It’s nothing like kissing another human, his tongue is thin and quick, flickering against the seam of your mouth. Rougher than the velvety wash of another human’s, leaning more on the abrasive side. So you can feel as he flickers against your lips, your own tongue, flicking to stroke the roof of your mouth and swipe along the inside of your teeth.

The naga slithers closer, one powerful arm sliding beneath the arch of your spine, free hand cupping the side of your head, fingers long and large enough to wrap around two thirds of the circumference of your skull. Glittering jade scales are surprisingly smooth beneath the bare skin of your calves, legs mindlessly snaring around the thick trunk of his tail, coiling further down, his rattle hissing with what you have to assume is pleasure.

It’s only when you feel the hot, heavy weight of something curved and thick against your naked stomach that you pull away. Though you know what it is before you even look, it’s still a surprise to see the deep jade of his cock, transitioning to pale skin and flushed at the tip, looking somewhat larger at his base and-

Your eyes widen when Eris shifts his body and you spot the second one he has. Just as flushed but longer…thicker…fatter at the base, like the skin is flaring, or swelling.

You’re speechless, mouth opening and closing as you stare down his well-muscled chest.

Why does he have two? Is it usual for nagas to have two? Do naga females have two…? Are you supposed to take both of them? Does he know you can’t?

“Eris…Eris what- Why-”

“You didn’t know my kind has two?” Your gaze shoots upwards, staring wide-eyed at him. “I can’t…” But you trail off, eyes growing even wider if possible as your mouth pops open. Eris eyes your lips with interest. “Is this…? This is what you want a mate for?”

It’s Eris’ turn to blink his surprise. “It is the end of mating season,” he replies dryly. “Have you never noticed the increase in my kind around early and late spring?”

“You’re not expecting me to…”

His lips curve. “Why not?”

“Because you’re a…and I’m a…” You shake your head. “No. You’re taking me back up to the surface and you’re going to leave me alone. You can’t just…remove me from my home.”

“You can bring it all down here. You can keep your yarn in that nook there.” He nods to a crook in the cavern wall that looks strangely like a shelf. “And you can bring your bedding to lay next to the fleeces. Your clothes too, if you must.”

“No. I have no reason to stay down here,” you repeat, holding your ground, uncomfortably aware of how your nipples are beginning to peak in the cold. How his eyes have also noted that change in your body. “You’re the only one this would benefit. Overall this would be a loss for me—all you can offer is mild warmth throughout winter but you can’t offer me open air and sunny skies. Nor enough money to buy a home I’d like.”

“I can offer a safe home, warm meals, all the comfort you could want,” Eris replies, and you squirm when his body pushes slightly closer, his hands holding your hips in place. “As well as having a mate.”

“The mate part only benefits you,” you repeat, huffing faintly. “You can’t just take me from my home. I don’t care if you think I’m your mate—I’m not interested. And are you listening to me?”

His amber eyes have gone glazed, no longer locked with your own. Heat warms your cheeks beneath that intense look—you can’t tell what he’s thinking. Pressure changes between your legs, then you feel something forming on your lower belly. You try to shift underneath him and his tongue flicks out, making a hissing sound. Looking lower, your mouth pops open when you spot the creamy liquid that’s dripped down from the tip of his lower cock, pooling on your belly.

“You’ll feel good,” he murmurs, and you inhale heavily as his hips shift, dragging his cock down your centre, able to feel the small ridges from his scales scraping over your clit. “I’ve been waiting so long for you.”

“Eris…” You flush, hands sliding down your body to try and grip at his wrists to free yourself from his hold. “Let me go…” His pupils dilate, and then he’s leaning even closer to you. If you took a deep inhale your breasts would brush his chest. His focus lies entirely on you as he inclines your hips upward from the fleece, slowly rocking you against him. “You want to know what it feels like, don’t you?”

You inhale sharply, staring at him, toes curling as you wrap your legs closer around the broad trunk of his tail—for stability. “I- What? Know what what feels like?” You’re breathless even to your own ears. The fire burning too hot. Your pulse spiking too high.

“One round,” Eris growls, lowering himself to your throat, serpentine tongue flickering up the length of your neck, so much rougher than a human one. His hips shift once more, each scale scraping between your legs, hypersensitive to touch. “Let me show you.”

You flush, tilting your head to one side in attempts to squirm away but it only allows more space for him to place himself, razor-sharp incisors dragging themselves over your soft skin. He’s so much larger than you, so much stronger. His tail alone is probably six times your height…maybe seven, and his torso is lined with muscle, muscle that allows him the flexibility and lithe movements of a great snake. It’s probably the hot grip he has on your body, on your hips, that’s making you curious; probably the enticing drag of his heavy cock between your legs that’s making you sweat; probably the intense look in his golden amber eyes that has undeniable arousal gathering along your spine.

With his head dipped to your throat he looks almost like he’s bowing and a heady pleasure rises to your mind, as though you might have some kind of control over a creature as large and as terrifying as this one. One who could surely overpower you effortlessly, tangling you in his tail and pulling you apart how he likes. He has no reason to ask for your willingness. And yet you want to give it to him. Want to know what it’s like, to lie with a naga.

Teeth tuck into your lower lip and your throat rolls as the decision is finalised. “One round,” you whisper, arousal making your voice tremble—are you really getting to do this? Eris groans heavily, pulling back from your body to slide the retractible point on his claw down over your abdomen, catching beneath the fabric still clinging to your hips. It sounds like scissors snipping through cloth as he neatly cuts the remaining clothing from your body, his pupils blowing wide as he lays eyes on you. Your hands find his wrists, enough human fear still within you to think. “Be gentle,” you request, shifting beneath him on the fleece, heart pounding wildly in your chest.

Eris squeezes your waist once in reply, then he’s running the flushed and leaking tip of his cock up and down your centre, mixing arousal with every movement. There’s a lot, even at this stage. Eris pushes himself closer between your legs, his hands moving so his thumbs can dig into the meat of your thighs to hold them apart and you know that even if you tried you wouldn’t be able to pull yourself free. He’s got you completely at his mercy.

You inhale as the head of his cock presses between your thighs, large and hot, that pearly liquid still leaking onto you and you ache to feel him slide in. An ache that only he can fix, one so acute you aren’t sure how you made it this long without pushing yourself open for him and clambering on top of his hips, seating yourself where you belong. “Eris…”

Amber eyes pierce into you and your grip on reality dissipates as he slips inside, stuffing your cunt full in one slow, deep stroke.

Your spine arcs, toes curling as you stretch around him, able to feel every smooth, jade scale of his base as it enters, his cock nestled away inside of you. Something slips out from his tip. Hot and wet. How much of that liquid is already inside of you? Dripping from the slit in his head?

“Have you ever lain with another creature before?” Eris asks. Are you supposed to be able to respond right now? With the pressure he’s putting between your legs?

You manage a shake of your head, and glittering teeth flash in a lazy grin. “You’re going to enjoy it,” he whispers, pride and pure arrogance dripping from his tone. “I’ll make sure you’re begging for more after. That you’re crying for pleasure. As desperate for me as I am for you.”

“You don’t-…” Your spine arcs, eyes sliding shut as your brows knit together, feeling as a wave of his arousal is released inside of you, the liquid releasing more thickly now and you wonder in the back of your mind if lubricant is primarily released by the males rather than the females of his species. What were you trying to say?

“I don’t…?”

You can hear the mirth in his voice, that lazy drawl and picture that smug glint in his eyes. “You look fine,” you manage to pant out, chest rising and falling rapidly, wishing you had the energy to shift your hips but the thought of the pleasure alone has your muscles turning slack, thighs trembling as this massive, serpentine creatures keeps you held to the ground. “You aren’t…why…? …I’m a mess, and you’re…”

“I’m?” You can picture the teasing smirk on his mouth. A moan slips from your lips in place of words and a flush of embarrassment spreads through your chest, fingers moving to soften your noise.

“I’ll make you moan louder if you try to muffle them,” Eris drawls, his low chuckle razor sharp and honed. “Would you like me to start?”

“We haven’t-… Haven’t we already…?” His cock drags out of you and you whimper at the emptiness, missing the pleasurable scrape of his scales against your wet inner walls, the hot weight of his second cock resting heavily over your abdomen, leaking more fluid, occasionally pushing at your clit when his hips are tight to your own. Your hands scramble, searching for him in a daze, and he laughs.

The moan you release when he slides in to the hilt is loud and wanton, a heady pleasure dizzying your mind. You can feel him again, that delicious stretch, probably pushing up through the skin of your abdomen. Looking down, you whimper at the cum pooling on your stomach—would it taste good?

“Aren’t you a lucky human?” Eris whispers, closing in on your throat as he rocks into you. You’re thankful for his gentle pace, taking care not to hurt you even if you’re beginning to want him to hit harder. You can’t imagine anything hurting anymore, not the buck of his hips, nor the scrape of his teeth, nor the pressure of being entirely full, finding a way to fit both of them inside of… “How many of your kind get to experience this kind of lay, do you think? A few dozen, across the world? And you’re getting to be one of them, too. Aren’t you lucky?”

Your toes curl as his thrusts speed, his hips rolling so his cock begins rubbing up against a spot inside of you that makes you want to move with him. A biological instinct urging you to lift your hips to meet him. You try to shoot him a glare for his mockery but you can hardly manage to keep your gaze straight. Panting fills the air, the blissed out, needful expression that had been consuming Eris’ features now transferred to you and you have to wonder if his mind has somehow become clearer now his want is being satiated, compared with you own human mind that only grows foggier and dumber with every ounce of pleasure he pours into you.

You squeal when a peak of pleasure pulses through your body, an overwhelming high that makes your thighs tremble, crying out and making noises you didn’t know you could—that you’d ever be so caught up in your own feelings that you wouldn’t care for how embarrassing they would be. There’s hot liquid inside of you, spilling into parts so deep it feels like he’s inside your stomach.

He doesn’t stop, cock still dragging in and out of your sensitive heat and your legs tremble, shaking with every thrust as perspiration gathers along your skin. “Eris…” you pant, fingers shakily trying to pry his own from your hips. “You-…you said one round…” Tears gather in your eyes, cunt fluttering wildly as he keeps stuffing you full, head tipping back into the fleece as the flames burn hotter in the cave, feeling like you’re trapped beneath glass during a hot summer’s day.

“Done already?” Eris drawls, teasing mirth lacing his tone. “You haven’t even taken the second one, let alone the first. Is your etiquette so poor?”

“I-…” You’re struggling to speak, fingers partially locked around his wrists, needing something to cling onto. “You… You said one round! We… Stop…”

“Stop?” He says it like he’s never heard the word before. “Why would I stop? I can tell you’re enjoying it.”

“It’s too much!” You’re going to fall apart if he puts any more pleasure into your body. Breaking past your threshold and obliterating it entirely. “I can’t… I can’t do anymore…”

Eris laughs, the deep rumbling noise reverberating through the caves, echoing of the rock walls. “You can,” he whispers, an edge to his voice that makes your hairs stand on end. His hands squeeze your hips, then you’re being hauled upward and tossed onto your hands and knees. His hips pull back, then he slams himself in to the hilt, and you’re so full you think cum might start dripping from your mouth. When does he stop releasing it? How much longer until he reaches his own high? You can’t take much more of this…

Your mouth falls open as his grip on your hips tightens and he begins pounding into you. Pounds and pounds of muscle all working together to snap his hips to your own.

That creamy liquid begins dripping down your thighs and into the fleece, more spilling onto your back, leaking from his second cock and trickling down to his base before being stuffed inside of you again.

“For someone who said they can’t take anymore, you’re doing remarkably well,” Eris muses, sounding completely at ease despite the hunger and heat that’s plying you apart. Are you going to come again?

One of his large hands leaves your hip, curving around your waist to slip between your thighs and tears push from your eyes as the rough pad of his finger finds your clit. Moans grow louder, being shoved from your lungs with every snap of his powerful body. It feels so good, so overwhelmingly good and yet you feel like you’re about to fall apart, like you might collapse any second now and melt into the ground.

You try to swallow but your throat is dry, your arms trembling beneath the strain of holding yourself up, and he’s still going, showing no signs of fatigue or of wavering. How long is it going to take for him to come?

The circles on your clit grow tighter and meaner, and you almost feel like he’s teasing you, speeding up the oscillations then slowing almost to a stop entirely, giving you calculated bursts of pleasure as his cock drives in and out of you, all while his second is resting heavy against your lower back. Your mouth drops open as he speeds the circles again and another high flushes through your body, making your skin sizzle and tingle, cunt fluttering again while he remains unhurried above you.

You can’t help it—your arms give out, upper body flopping into the fleece as your cheek pushes against the soft padding.

Behind you Eris chuckles, like you’ve done something endearing. “Tired already?”

His thrusts begin to slow, and your breaths pant out into the ground. You whimper when you feel cum beginning to slide down the slope of your spine, squirming at the strange feeling, how hot it still is. You try to push yourself up but the hand between your legs removes itself, instead splaying his palm across your back, keeping you pinned to the make-shift bed while his cock remains full inside of you.

“What- what are you doing?” You can still hardly speak, despite the break he’s allowing you. You make an uncomfortable noise when he spreads the liquid across your back, lungs sharply pulling in air with surprise and…the smallest bit of arousal. Is it a territorial thing? Marking? You hope not. “Eris,” you whimper, trying to shift beneath his hold but he’s got you pinned. “Eris- What are you doing? Oh-” His palm has slipped beneath you, both hands now running up over your stomach, slicked with his release.

“My kind lives long,” he murmurs, your breath hitching when his palms cup your breasts, thumbs rubbing across your nipples, still slick with that hot, creamy liquid. “But despite that, offspring are rare. We have our mating season, and breeding frenzies, and we’re still a dwindling species.” You moan as his hands roam your body, palming your breasts in a way that has warmth unspooling in your lower belly. When he pulls away you nearly whine but manage to keep control of yourself. When he pulls out however, you couldn’t care less how needful or humiliating the sounds are you’re releasing—you need him to be inside of you again.

When he lays you on your back your thighs are already open, legs parted and ready for him again despite how sensitive you still are, cunt tingling with pleasure, clit puffy and swollen from attention. He wraps one hand around your leg, lifting it easily from the ground as he digs his thumbs into the meat of your thigh, continuing to slather your body in release. You tighten around nothing, palms lifting from the fleece to cup your sensitive breasts, lightly swiping your thumbs across the slicked peaks, shivering from pleasure. You’ve never known yourself to be so sensitive.

“Most of my kind has to survive on those aids alone,” he continues, and you whimper as his hands keep working your body, rubbing through sore spots and pulling taut muscle apart to release the built up tension that’s already gathered in your comparatively small frame. “My bloodline, however,” Eris says, an amused lilt in his voice that has your ears pricking, heat fluttering in your lower tummy as he leans closer, his long, silky hair tickling your collar bones, fangs glittering in the firelight. “We get a little something extra. To help keep us going.”

Your brows furrow, barely following him. Too busy thinking about what his cock will feel like when it’s inside you again. Because there’s no way he’s leaving you without giving you more. You won’t be able to manage. “What is it?”

Elegant, narrow lips curve at their edges, pressing himself between your legs so you can feel the hot weight of his cock over your centre, resting against your clit. “An aphrodisiac.”

Your eyes blink wide open, staring at him. “A what?”

Eris smirks, hips pulling back and your thighs fall open of their own accord. You squirm, breaths becoming heavier as the head of his cock catches on your clit, dragging down through your centre, coming to a pause between your thighs before nudging once at your entrance. “You tricked me!” You accuse, half-heartedly attempting to squirm away but you want him again so badly. To think of all that release coating your body, skin absorbing those arousing properties so you’re conditioned to want him…should you find that repulsive? Are you supposed to dislike that? You can’t think straight anymore.

Eris smirks, and your stomach flips, legs subconsciously opening wider. “Would you like me to stop?” He asks, allowing his fingers to splay across the top of your thigh, ticklishly tracing in circular patterns. “I will if you ask me to.” But I don’t think you can, goes unspoken.

“You said just one round…” you pant, not quite denying you want more but evading his question. Do you want him to stop? If he stops now does that mean you’ll never get this again? Eris’ smirk broadens to a grin and your hips incline from the fleece, trying to push him even a little deeper but he pulls away. “Shall I stop?” He repeats, amber eyes glinting knowingly. “I can return you to your home, if that’s what you’d like? It’s what you’ve been asking for all this time, after all.”

This time, you do glare at him: a simmering look that you hope he feels the burn of.

“You want me to ask you for it? Is that what you want?” You’re pleased with the snappiness of your voice. Eris’ eyes gleam with hunger, snaking closer, the head of his cock almost slipping inside of you and it’s a feat of pure spite that keeps you from bucking your hips to get him deeper, fighting off the aphrodisiac that’s already sunk its claws so deep. You incline your chin, desire bubbling away in the pit of your tummy, so desperate for him to stuff you full again. “Make me.”

Eris’ pupils nearly swallow his irises with hunger, then a deep-throated laugh is rolling from his chest, breathless and lined with strain. His serpentine tongue flickers out once before he’s pulling back, enough for you to desperately bite down on a whine. “Alright,” he muses, rough-voiced, “if that’s what you want. I can do that.”

You yelp in surprise when he twists you around, so you’re now spread out on top of him, thighs straddling his powerful serpentine body.

A heady rush of pleasure goes straight to your cunt, finding the view of being seated atop such a terrifying creature a power trip all on its own. He’s massive. Probably eight times your height, from head to tail.

Eris holds you atop him, and there’s the teasing press of him between your thighs, his tip just nudging at your entrance. “It’s only going to get worse for you,” Eris reminds with a cocky smirk, keeping you suspended just out of reach of what you need, perched on the very tip of his cock, the second, thicker one lying flat against his stomach, a definite swell at his base. He’s not allowing you to feel even an ounce of relief. What have you gotten yourself into? You’d thought asking him to make you would result in Eris pounding you into the bedspread, but instead it seems you’ve started a challenge you have no chance of winning. How are you supposed to outlast him?

As if he can read your mind he grins. “I can’t imagine how you’ll cope once the symptoms start presenting. Heightened sensitivity; influx of arousal fluid; increase in temperature…” He laughs, eyes glinting. “You’ll be begging me to fit both into your poor cunt, if you aren’t too careful.” His lips curve and his tail rattles, tongue flickering out in that menacing way of his. Eris’ eyes darken, grip tightening, voice softening to a whisper as he croons, “If you ask sweetly enough, I might even give you a break when you pass out.”

Hot flame scorches your cheeks, palms weakly attempting to scramble at his fingers, plying them from your hips but it’s a hopeless task. As if to flaunt his power his tail rattles somewhere behind you, serpentine tongue flickering teasingly over his charmingly narrow lips. Sensual, and soft. Fangs flashing in the firelight.

Arousal drips down onto his cock, slowly drooling down the length of him to mix with the leaking cum that’s already gathered at his base.

You gasp as his tail begins slithering around your middle, coiling once around your hips, snaking up your waist, tightening gently until he’s slid himself thrice around your torso. The rattle snickers before you and you don’t even attempt to pull his tail from your body—you have no hope of overpowering him. And yet it’s arousing, the flush squeeze of his tail to your waist, perched so teasingly atop his cock, his hips poised to drive up into you the moment you give in. Ask for it. Beg for him.

Is it the aphrodisiac making you think like this? It must be.

But now you can’t comprehend the idea of ever not wanting him, and logic is lost.

Heat gathers between your legs—hot, liquid heat that drools like syrup down the inside of your thighs. His tongue flickers again and in that moment you’re convinced that if he had legs he might crawl to drag his tongue over your sex. The thought flies away as swiftly as it’s delivered and embarrassment shudders down your spine from the obscenity. Is it still getting hotter in here?

Eris’ lips curve in a coy smirk, oozing arrogant self-satisfaction as he watches you begin to unravel, squeezed atop his cock, the tip barely inside. Amber eyes glitter and he removes his hands from your hips, resting them beneath his head while his tail keeps you suspended above, straddling his hips. “You look like you want something.”

His tail rattles and you open your mouth to argue but then the tip is tentatively prodding between your thighs, rubbing leisurely over the intimate part. Your mouth pops open. Thighs tensing. Toes curling. Insides fluttering.

His lips curve. “Like that?”

Eris’ tail rattles, and your vision blurs as sensitive reverberations are pressed onto your clit. Rapid, heavy pulses that have your finger pads digging into the impenetrable scales of his tale, a deep jade at his top and a creamy, cotton pale on his underbelly.

“Please…” It’s not even a whisper. Less than a breath.

He hears it. Of course he hears it. But he pretends not to, arching a brow with a smug gleam in his eyes. “What was that?”

His tail rattles again, and he lowers you a little further onto his cock, his tip nestling just inside of you but keeping the steep head of himself from slipping in any further. You flush, trying to squirm your way into having more but his tail shifts around you and suddenly you can’t even swirl your hips. You release a gasp of frustration. “You can’t do that,” you huff, pulse spiking. “That’s unfair.”

“Unfair is having to play these games with you just so you’ll be happy about sitting on my cock,” Eris counters in a half-amused drawl. You can’t make out the other half, but it’s something edged. Something fraying.

You try to turn your nose up at him, weakly attempting to fold your arms over your chest, forearms resting atop the uppermost coil of his tail. “You’re the only one insisting on playing these games.” Eris arches a brow, smirking “Do you wish I wasn’t?”

Yes. But you can’t tell him that. His smile widens as if he knows and his tail rattles as if in reward. You try to swallow your moan but the tightness of your throat only makes the sound whinier, more needy and sultry. Humiliation flutters in your lower belly and Eris grins. “Can’t you imagine how good it’ll feel? Remember how I stretched you out? Remember how you felt coming with me inside of you?” His tail rattles, tongue flickering, and you’re dangerously near the edge again. “Maybe you need some encouragement.”

His tail convulses around you as it shifts, parts compressing and expanding as the length of his tail from its last coil to his tip grows longer until it can comfortably slide between your legs, teasingly shifting suddenly so he’s coiled only once around your waist but keeping your ankles apart, the end of his tail allowed to rub over your centre, his rattle scraping your clit. Your legs are shaking, shuddering, a wild heat burning beneath your skin as he holds you apart for him to see, the firelight making it so nothing is hidden from him and you can imagine how your cunt must be glistening with the orange glow of the flames.

Eris smirks, more liquid leaking onto his stomach. “You should really see yourself,” he says, pushing himself up from the fleece. He’s keeping you suspended high enough that now he’s propping himself upright he’s at eye-level with your cunt. His tongue flickers again, and he laughs lowly at your response. The attempted tilt of your hips. “I won’t make you beg for this,” Eris muses, and you have a curse waiting on your tongue but you’re brought that little bit closer and his palms wrap over the tops of your thighs, holding you like you’re an exceptionally large goblet he’s drinking deeply from. One he must use both hands to drink from.

Your eyes roll, lids fluttering. His tongue is wet but rough, teasingly light and frustratingly playful in its licks. Zipping and flickering at your clit before his lips close around your heat, sealing you inside the humidity of his mouth, forcing you to endure the tauntingly pleasurable stimulation. And it feels so good. The intimacy and sensitivity of having such a clean part of him on…well…between your legs. Willingly applying himself, sinfully enraptured, eyes slid shut as he tastes you.

Freedom from observation gives you a fabricated sense of safety and the tension melts from your body, relaxing back into his tail, legs practically falling open for him as your head tips back, ready and accepting, prepared to feel the glistening high barrel through your body, pulsing through your thighs and abdomen, dripping onto his tongue.

You tighten, and he stops.

A frustrated cry slips from your lips. “Eris!”

He smirks. “Ask me.”

A noise between a groan and a whimper escapes your lungs. You don’t want to ask him. But can you really last any longer? You were so close, like a word on the tip of your tongue, it was right there. You avert your eyes, refusing to look at him. He’s too handsome to look at head on. Your throat rolls. “Please…” You lick your lips. “I want… I want another round.”

His grin broadens into something that could never be mistaken for human, and his fangs catch in the firelight as the rough of his tongue drags slowly, intentionally over your clit, keeping his eyes on yours. Your toes curl and your hips buck, trying for more friction. “It took you long enough,” Eris grins, flickering his tongue teasingly over your clit as you’re swiftly being brought back to that high. “You’re the one who-” But you gasp as his tongue snakes inside of you, rough and surprisingly strong and it pushes upwards.

You squirm at the unfamiliar sensation, trying to wriggle away from him but he laughs onto your cunt. When his tongue retracts to return to your clit it’s coated in slick, gleaming arousal, and you feel thick liquid drip down from your entrance. His tail guides your legs over his shoulders, hands wrapping around your hips as he tilts your body to drink from you properly.

The orgasm blows through your body, heat glistening and pulsing through your thighs as white-hot pleasure sparks. His mouth is entirely sealed over your cunt and he times the small convulsions of his tail to the fluttering of your cunt, making it feel like the high truly is passing throughout your entire body.

Your skin is slick again, a lasting mix of his release and a fresh sheen of perspiration, chest heaving as Eris’ mouth soothes over your sensitive cunt, clit turned puffy and sore from all the attention. You flinch as he drags his tongue over it again, suckling and tugging with his teeth, your vision blurring and your feet kick. “Eris! Stop, I can’t-” Your breath hitches as his suction increases, stretching out the last drops of your orgasm, feeling the pulses slowly begin to fade into that hazy buzz beneath your skin.

It’s a effort to swallow, compromising precious breaths with the shift.

Eris chuckles lowly, amber eyes like molten gold in the firelight. “So quickly?”

You flush, heat gathering beneath your cheeks as you try to look away. It’s not like you could help it. It seems to only further his amusement, tail lightening around your waist and a sigh of relief slips from your lungs as he guides you back from his mouth, allowing you to rest your palms on his abdomen, thighs straddling his hips. You’ll be thankful to bask in the warm heat of the fire for a bit, let the tension and pleasure again seep from your muscles.

But Eris isn’t even considering allowing you a rest. After all, you’ve only just started. And he still hasn’t reached completion.

A moan slips from your lips when you feel the head of his cock nudge at your entrance. You can do nothing to protest as he slips you down his length, so wet there isn’t an ounce of resistance. Not even as he stuffs you full, so you’re sat tight to his lap. Now all you want is to buck your hips.

Seeing your mouth open, Eris presses the pad of his thumb to your clit, your words swiftly failing as your head hangs, too exhausted to hold yourself up anymore. “Feeling tired?” He croons, but there’s heat in his voice. You manage to lift your head to look at him but your eyes instead trail down his body, over his chest, his stomach, his abdomen, until you see where your bodies are joined. You tighten around him once and become abruptly aware of how deep he can go. How full he’s made you.

Trying to clear your throat but failing, you avert your eyes. “Why haven’t you…?”

Eris smirks. “Why haven’t I…?”

“Found…completion.” Eris scoffs, but strangely you don’t feel scorned. Maybe it’s something to do with the tender circles he’s putting into your hip with one hand. Skimming across the bare expanse. “You haven’t let me enjoy you long enough to find my pleasure,” he drawls, both hands now at your hips, tail rattling somewhere behind you. You blink. “But isn’t the whole point of this that you…?”

His brow quirks and you flush. “I will,” he muses, “eventually.”

“Eventually,” you echo. “How long?”

Eris considers. “At the rate you’re going…” He pauses. “Maybe three days?”

“Three days!” You stare at him, mortified. You can’t do this for three days, and tell him as much. Eris cocks his head in mock sympathy. “Well, we could always keep going,” he muses, eyes gleaming. “You’re who I’m waiting on.”

“Because I just-!” Frustration simmers beneath your flesh. You can’t keep going when you’re so sensitive. You need time for a break to cool off. You aren’t like him. “Fine,” you mumble, pushing a decisiveness into your voice that you don’t feel. You swallow. “Just keep going until you…find what you want.” You look to the shadows cast on the floor and wall, seeing how you’re joined together with his long tail coiling behind you. “It seems unfair that you should get nothing out of this…”

“Believe me, I’m getting plenty out of this.” As if to emphasise, a fresh spill of release is pushed from the slit in his heat, hot enough you shudder as it slips down your thighs. A question passes through your mind. “Can you control that?” Eris raises a brow. “Can you control that?” You nod to his cocks, the cum leaking to his base, “The amount coming out?” He nods, and the liquid stops. Your brows furrow, “Why do you…? Oh.” The aphrodisiac. Right.

“Anymore questions?” Eris grins wickedly. “I’d be happy to show you more answers.” You shake your head hurriedly, trying to press your fingers to his abdomen to keep the trembles away. Hopefully it won’t be too much. “You can start.”

The smile Eris gives you is softer than any other he’s offered thus far, and you sit back onto him, letting your weight pull you down. “I’ll be gentle,” he reminds, and you flush. Unsure whether the warmth comes from embarrassment or appreciation. But then his lips curve themselves into a familiar tilt, “For as long as you want me to be.”

You have half a mind to land a pat to his stomach to exhibit your annoyance but his large palms have wrapped themselves around your hips and an ungodly whimper slips from your lips as he lifts you to the top of his cock and drops you back down. Your eyes flutter, vision stuttering as he hits deep, pushing up cozily to a spongey part that’s soft and sensitive. Your mouth won’t work, tongue lolling just over your teeth, not out enough to brush your lower lip but more relaxed than dignified.

Eris’ hips work, starting off gradual to re-accustom you to the slow, deep strokes he gives. His tail rattles and a shiver works its way briskly up your spine. He fills you up so well.

“Feeling good?” Eris asks, and you manage a vague nod, trying to keep yourself balanced as he lifts you up and down. Trying your best to move with him, though he doesn’t need the help. He can move you just fine on his own, and has proved.

“Come on,” he drawls, “you can do better than that.”

“I…” You’re breathless. “Like…it…”

“Ready for a little more?”

“More?” You manage, sounding dismayed. More?

Eris’ hips buck sharply and you cry out from the pleasure, mouth popping open as a gasp splits the quiet of the air. He raises a brow, “You like that a lot, don’t you?” Words form in your mind but don’t reach your lips, tongue feeling numb and far off. “Alright…let’s go a little harder.” Eris’ grip tightens on your hips, muscles flexing along his stomach and forearms and your stomach lurches as the speed increases, his hips bucking up to meet you as he slams you down.

You babble from surprise, the pads of your fingers scrambling across his chest as you search for some kind of stability. He smirks then his tail once again wraps you in his powerful warmth, keeping you steady as you’re bucked forcefully enough to almost convince you he’s trying to kick you off. Your toes curl and your vision blurs as you feel the tightening of a third orgasm approaching. A whimper slips from your lips—maybe you shouldn’t have said you’d be fine without a break. He’s already reduced you to a babbling mess and it’s been a little more than a minute.

A small dose of relief is afforded to you when you think you pick out a faint pink colouring his cheeks. But that could just be the flame. You hope it’s colour though. Hope he’s actually getting a little breathless. But it still looks like you’re going to reach your high first.

“A little harder?” Eris asks, and this time you can tell it’s affecting him. His pupils are dilated and there’s more of a sheen on his chest, a jitteriness to the scales wrapped around your middle. You don’t even think as you nod your head, the pleasure leaving logical thoughts behind. Eager to experience his high of pleasure.

Before you know it he’s flipped you over, back once again pressed into the fleece allowing him to target spots specifically, holding you down as his hips drive into you and you think you might scream. Breaths rapidly pant from your mouth, chest heaving as he keeps pounding you into the ground. The orgasm swells out of nowhere and you clamp your hands over your mouth to keep your noises muted, a part of you remembering your dignity.

No sooner than your palm has lifted toward your mouth his hands have shackled your wrists and slammed them to the floor, hips bucking upwards as his amber eyes pierce down into you in warning, his earlier words passing through your mind. I’ll make you moan louder if you try to muffle them.

The third orgasm is overwhelming. More intense than the first and second ones combined and worse than making you moan louder, or making you scream or beg, he rips your voice away entirely.

Your body tightens, strict stitches of pleasure knotting your muscles and binding you into a beautiful arched bow, drawn back to its full stretch before being released, tension sizzling throughout your body as your ties snap. Tears drip down into your hair and he doesn’t stop—continuing like you’d agreed. You can’t even swallow, struggling to breathe as liquid pleasure floods your lungs, like laughing so hard you become breathless except it’s heat and silver tingles and pure heaven that’s filling your body.

When his pace begins to slow you can’t help but look at him strangely. You’d told him it was okay—and it still is. You want more. You want it to last longer. Want him to put more into you. Until you can’t speak, breathe, moan, sob, or stare.

“What?” You manage breathlessly, “What are you doing?”

“That desperate for me?” He drawls, but there’s obvious strain in his jaw. “That hungry?”

“Keep going,” you breathe, arching into him, breasts pushing fully against his hard chest. “Don’t stop.”

“It’ll feel better soon,” he promises, and you gasp a sob as he begins pulling away from you. His fingers replace the emptiness he’s left but it doesn’t compare and you writhe as they stroke and rub up against that spongey part. “Be good,” Eris chides in a whisper, hot breath ghosting your collar bones, making your nipples harden. “Behave and it’ll feel even better.”

You can’t imagine him doing anything other than what had originally gotten you tossed into overstimulation ever getting you there again. He should keep fucking you like that. Why stop?

Breath chokes in your throat as his fingers slide out, coated in thick slick, sliding further down between your thighs. He circles the tight ring of muscle once before slowly working his middle finger inside.

You jerk, squirming on the fleece at the foreign feeling, wild heat flushing your features as you gasp and scold him repeatedly but he simply hushes you with that look of his. A mix of lust and comfort. Strangely reassuring. It doesn’t detract from the humiliation you feel when both his fingers slide in, slowly, so slowly and gently pushing and prodding further inside, steadily working you open with tentative touches.

When his fingers withdraw, you breathe a sigh of relief. One that swiftly vanishes when you feel the head of the cock that had just been fucking you dumb push closer between your legs. You look at him, alarmed, but Eris leans down and pushes his mouth over your lips. His tongue flickers out, hot and rough and you moan at the sensation. The abrasive drag as he tastes the inside of your mouth. So pleasing you hardly notice as he lines his second cock up with your entrance, slicking himself up with his free hand as he prepares himself.

Your arms wrap up over his shoulders, pulling him close enough that fiery red hair tickles your chest, pooling along the line of your collar bones, tickling your cheeks.

Eris’ hips push forward gently and you arc up into him, Eris bowing over your body as his arm slips beneath the arch of your spine, holding you together as his mouth grazes your throat. The pressure is unimaginable; incomparable. So, full. You can’t even buck your hips. Can’t even shift them. This is what he needs? You guess it makes sense, in some distant part of your mind. If he has two, he’d want stimulation for both.

“Can you-?” You gasp, unable to speak. “I want… Stop holding it back…” Eris raises from your neck to look down at you, brushing away strands of hair that have been stickily suctioned to your temple and forehead, sweat turning your skin silky. “I want to feel it…” You pant. Eris gets the message well enough, and moans begin dripping from your mouth as liquid begins once more leaking out inside of you.

“I need you to open a bit more,” Eris whispers, so close you could kiss him again. Instead you stare up at him blankly—open up more?

“Eris I can’t,” you plead, looking at him beseechingly. But he smiles, pressing another kiss to your mouth, tongue flicking across your nipped-at lower lip. “You can,” he assures, and breath is physically pushed from your lungs as his hands slide beneath the divots of your knees, taking care not to move too swiftly as he lifts your legs to your chest so his torso is cradled between your calves. The position creates just enough room, and you recall the swollen flare at his base like a knot, breath stopping entirely as you feel it slip in.

You cry out from the pleasure, babbling hotly against his pretty, narrow lips, his serpentine tongue flickering as if he might drink your noises straight from your mouth. “Eris…” you whimper, “I- I can’t. I can’t.”

“You’re already there,” he whispers.

Heat pushes up from your flesh, seeping out as droplets of perspiration slide down the length of your spine, rolling along the curve of your breasts to drip down the side of your ribs, dampness gathered beneath the bend of your knees. Surely more at the nape of your neck, trickling back into your hair from your temples.

Eris rolls you back over and you nearly slump on top of him. Would have, if it wasn’t for his tail coiling once more around your torso. He’s given you some time to adjust but the stretch is still… Your body aches just thinking about it. You can’t help the tears of relief that fall from your lashes that there’s no stinging from the pressure. Just gentle, firm heat. Nothing poking or prodding, just slowly filling you up as far as your body can take, and no further. Pushing your limits while taking exceptional care not to hurt them. Treasured.

“Ready for movement?” Eris asks, looking up at you with darkened eyes that swirl with arousal, heavy clouds of smokey lust billowing behind his amber irises, pupils blown out wide. Could you deny him even without an aphrodisiac stripping you of sense? You can’t imagine it.

You nod your head.

With infinite care, he raises you from straddling his hips, far enough it’s just his head inside each hole, then supporting your weight as you come back down. On the first few goes you lean into his touch, letting him guide you safely. But once you become adjusted to the size, and the stretch, and the pressure, you become steady enough to make your own moves.

Your hips circle once of their own accord, and Eris’ head tips back into the fleece from pleasure. A low, husky groan resounds off the cave walls, sparkling with humidity, and your insides flutter. Is that from you? Is it you making him do that? Heady power goes straight to your head, repeating the action to find out what he’ll do—if it’s as fun watching him come undone as he seemed to find it watching you fall apart.

A strained moan breathes from his chest, hungry and needful and energy refills your body. You need him to crumble.

“Eris?” You whisper, running your fingertips up over the muscles of his stomach, “Is this good?” You flex those inner muscles around him as you swirl your hips and his eyes slide shut, thumbs circling over the skin of your waist. “Should I do more?” You ask, bucking slightly as you begin sliding up and down. Your hands rise higher, running over his chest before dragging back down, the point of your nails lightly scraping over his stomach.

Eris groans and his palms tremble where they’re wrapped around your hips, keeping a tight hold of you as you rock back and forth. “Are you finally feeling good now?” You murmur, half in a haze of pleasure, your head in the clouds. “Stop…saying things like that.” Comes his strained reply, low and rough in his throat. “Why?” You whisper, moving with more effort, wanting desperately to bring him more pleasure. “I want you to feel good… You still haven’t-”

Amber eyes pierce into you as the end of his tail bands around your jaws, silencing your words. You peer down at his tail, whimpering as you watch him, making sounds that before you would have been too embarrassed to make. “I don’t want to… I’m going to be gentle with you.”

There’s resolve in his voice that needs breaking.

You make a small noise in your throat of discomfort and his tail releases you, but instead you lean forward and allow your tongue to loll over your lower lip as you take a slow lick up his rattle.

Eris’ eyes widen, fingers shaking on your hips as his chest rapidly rises and falls, unable to look away. You explore the shape of him, tracing your tongue around the tip experimentally, liking the feel of having something to do with your mouth. Preoccupying your tongue. You whimper, and Eris tentatively slides the rattle forward, pushing past your lips. Heat tingles through your body and you aren’t sure if he’s even getting any stimulation from this or whether he’s just transfixed by the sight.

With a final circle of your tongue you pull away, licking your lips. “I don’t want gentle anymore.” You press a wet kiss to the end of his tail. “I want you to cum.”

Eris’ hands put bruises into your hips and you’re able to feel the influx of hot liquid inside of you. Excitement bubbles away in your abdomen. It all feels good and you can’t help but want more.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he bites out, tail writhing behind you, sending shadows scrambling across the walls. You nod. It’s enough for him, because the next thing you know he’s raising you from his hips, lifting you into the air so only the head of his cocks remain inside of you, sticky strands of slick webbing between your bodies and then he’s bringing his hips up to meet yours.

The breath is knocked from your body, sound rendered useless. Toes curl, thighs spasm, mouth opens. Fingers scrambling for purchase.

Now he’s keeping you aloft in the air, no longer sliding you up and down but pounding you from beneath. You lose track of how long it goes on for, unable to move as he keeps you still through that grip on your hips. Every buck hits a spot, every thrust has your clit brushing his abdomen, every subtle roll he adds makes you want to cry. Tears spill down your cheeks—it feels so good but it’s so much to take. And he’s muttering under his breath, words so fast you struggle to hear unless you pay attention. Mine, and perfect. Curses interrupted by moans. Breathless praises and sounds that seem almost pleading.

You gasp as hot cum pours into your body, flooding you as it begins pumping out down your thighs, unable to contain all of it. With every fresh wave your sensitivity is heightened, and when his right thumb lowers between your thighs to press on your clit and pull upwards you spiral.

The world tips and your view is spotted through with strange colours, dots of iridescence dance and it’s all you can do to remain present.

You’ve never felt like this before.

His name screams from your lungs, time after time after time, every slam of his hips making it spill again and again. Even through the haze of pleasure you know it lasts longer than it should. His powerful body slicked in sweat and muscles flexing in his stomach, the perspiration on his chest making it obvious with each heaving breath he takes down. He keeps going, his touch unrelenting.

By the time Eris’ orgasm has seemingly faded his hands are trembling, tail barely strong enough to lift from the ground, completely and utterly spent. With nothing to hold you upright any longer you flop forward onto his chest, uncaring for the mess. His skin is feverishly hot but you suppose so is your own.

The fire is still crackling in the centre of the cave but no longer bothers you. Now you’ve flopped forward there’s nothing keeping his lengths inside of you save for the knot still stuffed in your cunt, plugging you up as best it can to keep his cum nestled inside. A single amber eye slides open, enough to gaze down at where you’ve tucked yourself against him. “Are you…okay…?” He asks, still gathering his breath. You nod your head, not wishing to speak just yet.

A smile curves his mouth. “I didn’t think you’d be able to take it so well,” he murmurs, lifting a single hand to stroke hair from your sweat-slicked forehead. “I thought I was prepared to wait weeks until you’d be ready to go long enough…” His expression shifts, something like concern filling his gaze. “Are you certain…you’re okay?”

“I’ve never felt so good,” you croak.

It’s insufficient to say so. Nothing in your life compares to the highs of tonight, the adrenaline rush of lying with a creature like him. Learning the different way he fucks.

You curl tighter into his body, nosing at his skin. Shimmying high enough up his body that you can run your tongue up a part of his neck, tasting sweat in your mouth. So distinctly him.

Eris shudders underneath you, a final few ounces of cum squeezed from his tip into your cunt, held inside by his knot.

With surprisingly tender hands he rubs soothingly up and down your sides, both of you exhausted. A small part of you is proud that even he needs a break—one he hadn’t expected to take. If you’d had more energy you would have gloated about it, but with the way he’s holding you, you can’t be bothered. The promise of care and warmth is too alluring.

You shift your hips and his knot nudges a sensitive part inside of you, making you tighten around him. Eris tenses beneath you before releasing a shuddering exhale. “How long is that going to last?” You mumble sleepily, curiosity the only thing keeping you awake. Eris sighs, and you whine when he rolls his hips tentatively. “Relax,” he encourages, “it’ll go down in a couple of hours.”

Your brows furrow. “A few hours?” You repeat, but your cheek is smushed against his chest and your eyes have fallen shut. “I’ll explain more later,” Eris shushes, stroking the crown of your head, “when you’re more awake.”

You can’t argue with that, and frankly don’t want to. There’ll be more to discuss once you wake, but that will be for later. Right now you can hear the deep beat of his heart, your ear pressed close enough to his chest you’re able to feel every beat faintly pulse against your cheek. You never thought you’d come close enough to a naga to hear the tempo of its heart, and yet here you are, happy about it.

You find yourself anticipating waking, the knot still stuffed in your cunt promising more pleasure, and the warm wrap of his arms around your back promising the home you’ve always secretly wanted. His fingers still awake just enough to be leaving small patterns against your skin, soothing you into sleep with him.

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria @nighttimemoonlover @mrsjna @acoazlove

eris taglist: @feerique

#dividers by tsunami-of-tears #stalking through the underbrush #naga!eris #eris x reader smut #monsterfcking #naga!eris smut #naga!eris x reader #naga!eris x reader smut

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