#scythe eyebrows

[soramachaii]

I cant stop posting cats help

[vectorisheree]

waow hi scythe phighting

[pearlymel]

"The Masks We Wear"

Summary: as a journalist, you are itching to find the identity of this mysterious hero. But could it be that the hero is closer to you than you think?

Wc: 7.3k eat up

Warnings: Wriothesley x afab!reader, gn! reader, modern au, hero and villian au (one of each), reader is a journalist/cameraman, fluff, making out, crack (i laughed a lot writing this), angst (oops), one small sex scene, slightly under the influence, cursing, it's pretty unrealistic, petnames used: sunshine, love, and sweetheart.

Notes: i poured my heart and soul into this, i think it's my best piece so far ^^ give it a chance, maybe you'll love it. (Pleasepleasepleaseplease) Rbs are greatly appreciated!

Credits: banner art by the great @/danijaci

Click!

The city is absolutely beautiful today. No, no. It’s not because of the lights that makes the place brighter and a bit more magical, how it seems livelier with a group of teenagers laughing together while buying street foods together, or the old couple that seem still very much in love, the gentleman kneeling down and tying her shoes just to make sure she wouldn’t trip this time.

Humans can be cute, you think.

But of course, among those innocent ‘humans’ are those who desire destruction.

This time, you think you might have caught something in the shadows, and you stare intently at your camera, zooming it in to see the faintest color blending in with the darkness. Hair? A part of clothes? You don’t know, but you got it.

you have this obsession of finding out who the hero of this city was, or even the villian. Although, you would be technically be walking into death if you try finding out who the villian is.

Where did this hero come from? No one knows. Sure the crime rate has lowered, but it felt like the world became even more messed up.

It all started a couple of years ago when you were in your college days, one day almost dying from a falling building, and you thought you saw the scythe waiting to take your soul at that very moment but, no.

The mysterious hero of the city that you never thought you would never encounter carried the building with his super strength power, apparently.

He who has no name, took your hand and lead you into a safer area with the police.

cliché story, right. But that’s what got you into journalism and media now.

And let’s say… you’re too far into the deep black hole to back down now.

The almost blinding light made you come back to your senses, the sounds of engine roaring in the air as the bike approached you, and your shoulders were already slumped.

“How did you find me?” You raise your voice due to the loud engine running, covering parts of your vision from the light.

“Lucky guess.” Wriothesley replied gruffly, pulling his helmet off and shaking his head slightly to fix up his messy strands.

“Care to explain what on earth are you doing here in this shady alleyway? At nine thirty where the moon is out and wolves could be coming for you?” He starts scolding you, quirking an eyebrow when you give him the bored expression, and he immediately mimics it back.

“Taking pictures.”

“Of the rats?”

“Wriothesley.” You shoot him a look and he raises his hands in the air. “I understand your… obsession. But it could hurt you in the process, mentally and physically.”

You know he’s saying all this because he cares so much about you. Loves you too much that it would break his soul piece by piece if one day what you’re doing will hurt you.

“Hop in, sweetheart.” He hands you the extra helmet, and you take it with a sigh. Securing it around your head before taking your place behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist as he revved the engine.

The whole ride back was silent, yet traffic, which entirely ruined the whole mood. With the constant car horns ringing in your ear.

You tap at his thigh to grab his attention, “Why’s it traffic?” You grumble, rising yourself from the seat to look at the row of cars trying to get through.

“Not any holidays or events i can think of,” he responds back to you.

Red mixed with orange fills your vision, suddenly the car at the very front explodes. The car parts flying in the air and landing at the other vehicles which makes you frozen in shock.

Wriothesley’s clenches his hands tightly as he turns the bike around, speeding his way far away from the scene. “Hold onto me tight, and don’t look back, you hear?” He yells enough to grab your attention, and your arms tightens around him, but you have your head turned around to see the people yelling and dashing out of the vehicles. You want to capture the moment with your phone so you could submit it in for the news, but you know more than to ignore Wriothesley right now.

It’s not rare to see destruction happen in your city, it’s just… terrifying every time anybody witnesses it.

Maybe it wasn’t an accident, maybe it was planned.

“You’re not allowed to go out after seven.” Wriothesley makes it clear to you with his firm tone as you both step inside your shared apartment, locking the apartment with a click. He then tosses his keys into a bowl on a small table, before turning to look at you.

“Are you seriously setting a curfew for me? Please. what happened was not new—”

Your face is now being cradled by his rough hands, but the way he swipes a thumb under your eyebags really makes you melt. And you forget what you were going to say when his lips curl the slightest.

“I don't want anything happening to you. Ever.” He takes you in his arms, holding you like you were the most precious thing he ever held. “I didn't mean to pressure you like that. I'd hate it if you were in the position of those injured people.”

You pat his back to reassure him that hopefully nothing like that will happen. “And, if, hypothetically, something like that happened; What would y—”

“I'll kill everyone.” he doesn't even let you continue before he answers, though the chuckle against your hair followed after makes your tense shoulders relax.

“maybe not to that extent,” he lifts your head up to lean in and press a tender kiss on your forehead.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“what is it?”

“… something or someone.”

Your boss gives you a nonchalant sharp look when you eagerly showed him the bits you managed to capture last night before you were interrupted by your great boyfriend.

His eyes squints at the more of a blurred photo that sits on the display of your camera, taking the glasses that hanged from his collar.

The sigh afterwards makes you feel discouraged when he hands you back your camera.

“i see it.” He starts and you perk up immediately.

“it looks like a blurred image of a fucking bird taking a shit on the electrical cords.” You press your lips into a thin line at his description. Too detailed of a description,

what a bastard.

It.. certainly didn't look like that.

You clear your throat, pinching the bridge of your nose to compose yourself.

“You're lucky i like your determination or you would've been fired,” he utters out in a lax tone, resting his glasses on his big bald head that you want to spill with ketchup.

“Keep looking, i need the hero's face, details, anything. Just think of the money you and i could both earn.” He seems too enthusiastic about it, showing you determination with his fists pressing together and his wide ear to ear smile.

You leave work early that day, starting your daily walk of looking around for at least two hours or—one hour?

No, Wriothesley would be too worried if you came back after… nine. Your words not his.

You need to rearrange a schedule in your head.

Step one: somehow convince your boss that you need to leave early everyday.

Step two: search every nook and cranny of the city, ask every shady person if they get to talk to the hero in person or got a glimpse of his name.

Step three: go to the dark web— is that car flying infront of you right now?!

Shit. Just why does everything have to go down wherever path you go?

The people around you panics, and you equally panic with them because you're no fucking hero to tell them to get away from that flying car.

You take your camera out hurriedly from its case that slung around your shoulder, pressing record while frantically looking around. The ground shakes, it shakes so much that it feels like an earthquake almost.

“it's him! The villian!” Someone shouts from the distance, and just like that the screams that follows are in sync.

You know why the ground shook, the street has become a battlefield for the hero and villain fighting together with all their strengths, the air is filled with tension as they both clash in an epic confrontation. The ground trembles beneath your feet again as they traded blows, sending shockwaves through the battlefield. The once tranquil street has now been transformed into a chaotic arena of power and destruction. As the battle rages on. The hero and villain continue their fight, each strike more powerful than the last, their movements a blur of speed and precision.

You try capturing anything with your camera, but your hand shakes that it was impossible. When the villian lands a powerful punch on the hero’s shoulder, sending him way back, it makes you think it's time to leave.

You run with the rest without stubbornness this time. You should've listened to Wriothesley, why did you always have to be so curious about everything?

This curiousity will kill you next after the cat.

“Taxi!” You shout, waving your hand at the yellow vehicle, but every taxi seems to ignore the people's pleas, determined to save themselves instead.

Guess it's time to burn calories and run back home.

You were a panting mess once you reached back to your comfort space, eyes zeroing at the running television in the living room. Watching the newscaster talk about today's battle and how it affected the shops and buildings.

It seems like the battle lasted twenty minutes before the villian gave up and fled away.

Your head snaps to the bathroom once you hear the sink water drip, you didn't even think if he would be here this early.

“Wriothesley,” you say breathlessly when you swing the door open, arms squeezing his side as you take a deep breath in.

“woah, easy there. What happened?” He takes you in, hand rubbing at your arm.

“i was…” nevermind. Maybe you shouldn't tell him what you have witnessed, he'll know once he checks the news.

You only realise that he was chest bared at the moment, and you furrow your eyebrows once you see a bruise on his shoulder.

“What happened?” It was your turn to ask, talking a gentle finger and running it over the bruise, earning a hiss from him.

“was changing the car oil at the repair shop.” He mumbles, gaze turning to the mirror, “then accidentally hit my shoulder once i got up.” he turns his arm, swinging it slowly.

“but you don't work at a car repair shop?”

“it's a side hustle, sunshine.”

“why didn't you tell me?” You press on, and he hangs his head low, both of his hands gripping the sink bowl.

Okay, maybe you have annoyed him a little too much now. Upon sensing your incoming apology, Wriothesley smiles at you.

“don't worry your pretty little head too much. The bruise will fade.”

“i can massage you later?” You offer, and he lets out a breathy chuckle. “You're the best.” He gives you a chaste kiss on your lips on his way out, which makes you feel a little fuzzy.

The evening gave way to the night sky, and you found yourself lying on the bed, replaying the video captured on your camera. The footage was far from perfect, shaky and lacking in clarity, but it still managed to capture fragments of the intense confrontation between the hero and the villain. You couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement as you watched the brief glimpses of the clash that had taken place earlier.

How the villian managed to blow a punch on the hero’s shoulder, sending him way back. Must've hurted.

It's almost like the same spot Wriothesley got his bruise on.

…

Wait, the same spot?  You sit up on the mattress, replaying the video on repeat of their fight.

The hero was about the same height as him, the same physique, same cake—

You shake your head, focus. Wriothesley can't be the hero, no that's impossible. He was a busy man, doing… side jobs and whatnot.

Sure he was kind, always helping everyone, even walking the neighbors dog because they got sick one day.

But then again… you never saw Wriothesley and the hero at the same time,

Or was it merely a coincidence, a random alignment of physical features?

“Sunshine?” You gasp when you snap your head up to find Wriothesley leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed.

“y-yes?” You set the camera aside on top of the drawer. He moves closer, seating himself on the edge of the bed, his eyes fixated on you then glancing at he camera.

“dinner's ready.”

You nod, silence fills the room after. You know he's waiting for you tell him more, on why you were so shocked.

“was looking at the hero's pictures.”

“not mine? I'm wounded.”

You roll your eyes, a slow smile creeping up your face, and he loves it. He takes it as an invitation to lean closer, suddenly pinning you down on the bed to capture your lips with his.

It's slow, and gentle. It makes you hum softly, taking his face in your hands to kiss him back, moving your lips together until you were gasping for air.

You forget you were even suspicious of him a second ago.

Your fingers lightly trace his jawline and you feel the pricks of his growing facial hair. A small smile plays on your lips as you inform him in a soft tone, "You need to shave." Wriothesley chuckles softly, the sound warm and low. He reaches up to your hand, gently taking hold of it and bringing it to his lips, pressing a kiss on your palm. "Is that why you stopped kissing me?" He says, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "No! I find you more.. attractive. Plus it.. yeah, it feels like little needles on my face.” you admit quietly.

Wriothesley presses his face into your neck, his lips tracing soft kisses along your skin. His hands begin roving your body, each touch sending a gentle shiver across your flesh. He whispers quietly next to your ear, his voice low and smooth as he responds, "I'll shave after dinner." The sensations of his lips against your neck and his hands exploring your body mix together, creating a heady combination that heightens your senses and ignites a slow fire within you.

“I'll.. help.” You whisper, bringing both of your arms to wrap them around his back. “What a sweetheart.” he uttered out, voice muffled from trying to mold into your skin.

Your mind stops working for a second when he presses his knee gently between your legs to pull them apart, “Wriothesley, what about dinner?” You frantically ask him, tugging his hair up so both of your gazes could meet. And the almost drunken expression he has on makes you let out a shaky breath.

“later,” he drawls, his fingers tracing lazily along your sides.

Hero? Pftt, what hero? This is just your wriothesley, it's quite impossible for him to be the hero.

You snap out of your daydream when your colleague hands you a cup of coffee, he raises an eyebrow at you and you smile back awkwardly.

A sip of the coffee to get a bit of energy, but only just a bit, since too much caffeine makes you nervous.

“You filmed the crazy battle yesterday?” Your colleague sneaks from behind you, watching the video replay again on your camera.

“they do movies about them now, insane huh?”

“well atleast the hero knows he's popular.” You reply bluntly, taking anothsr sip from your hot beverage.

“flash news, someone heard that his name starts with the letter ‘W’ or som—”

You spit out your coffee all over your white attire. You both exchange surprised looks, but you quickly wipe your mouth using the back of your hand.

“where exactly did you hear that?” You get straight to the point, gesturing them to sit next to you.

“from my father's friend’s cousin sister.”

His reply makes your eyes twitch, from who and who?

“Okay…” you whisper, turning around and thinking of the utter nonsense they spouted.

“you don't believe me.” he sighed, “I've been telling this to everyone in the building but no one is believing me! Just tryna’ do my job here.”

Let's say maybe you believe him. But the dots are connecting too fast that you want to refuse from believing it.

Was your target closer to you than you had expected?

“I'm clocking out, can you cover for me today?” You inform your colleague, and he crosses his arms while eyeing you up and down.

Your roll your eyes, “I'll be the cameraman for next week. So you could get three days off.” You force a smile and they smile back enthusiastically.

Wriothesley is definitely home. Earlier than the usual time he'd be back.

Oh, he's asleep on the couch. Leaning back tiredly with an almost stern expression on, but his body seems relaxed.

Now is the time to do anything. Investigate? Go through his things without his permission? That sounded all awful… surely he's not hiding any—

“go search his things.” You furrow your eyebrows when the devil on your left shoulder speaks, it makes you rub your face in annoyance.

Then a sudden white little angel poofs on your right shoulder with a disappointed face, “no, don't do it. He's a little scary when he gets mad. But he'd never betray you!” you feel reassured at it's words and you nod in agreement.

“don't listen to it. He could hurt you if you keep it a secret.” The red devil whispers again and it makes you shiver a bit.

“he would never hurt you.” The angel frowns.

“yes he would, he's a man.”

“a good man.”

“yeah? You're no better than me, you just want that—”

“okay shut up both of you. Shoo.” You brush both of your shoulders off before taking a deep breath to brace yourself.

You'll just search his.. clothes.

You feel guilty once you pocket his jackets and pants in his side of the wardrobe, checking every hidden pocket thoroughly while glancing at the door once in a while to make sure he doesn't wake up.

As your fingers brush against his jacket, you notice an unusual sensation – a cool, metal feeling hidden underneath the fabric. Your eyes widen in surprise as you recognize it to be the form of a gun's handle. A mixture of curiosity and concern floods through you, freezing you in place.

It really is a gun. You study it carefully, turning it around and feeling it's heaviness in your palm.

But you feel your heart run out of your ribcage when two pairs of arms wrap tightly around you, his chin resting on your shoulder.

Shit.

“hi,” he whispers next to your ear, but you're too nervous to even look back at him.

“nice thing you got there.” He muses, and you feel like you're losing oxygen once he tightens his grip around you even more.

“… i just found it.” You mutter, mostly to yourself. Your head hanging too low to avoid his eyes.

“Could've just asked me, no?” He clicks his tongue, almost in disappointment.

“i have it on me because—”

“because you use it for the good, right? Because you're the hero?” Your voice is shaky when you ask, the gun in your hand shaking with you, and you're afraid to drop it.

“hero?” Wriothesley repeats, shaking you gently awake and you gasp harshly, taking in big breaths, your boyfriend immediately trying to soothe you.

it was a dream.

“you were mumbling something about a hero in your sleep. Are you okay?” He asks in concern, brushing a strand off your face. You were sweating too much for your liking.

“when did i get here?” You look around, taking your palms to rub the sleepiness off. “Right when you got off work. You slept on the bed without changing your clothes.”

Oh… so you never checked his clothes. Deciding to just sleep instead.

Your head turns back to the wardrobe, staring at it intently. Could the jacket be in the same arrangement as you found it in your dream? Or will the gun also be there?

“you're going to poke a hole through it if you keep staring.” He stifles a laugh, and you couldn't help but try to smile as well. “Drink up. Slow sips.” He offers you a glass of water, and you hold the glass firmly in your hand.

“so… what was your dream about? Even this hero appears in your dreams? Can't say I'm not jealous.”

“You'll have grey hairs too early from overthinking.” You tease, sitting upright in bed, “oh no, you already do, old man.” you frown, tracing the grey strands along with his black hair. He watches in amusement.

Wriothesley lets out a deep sigh, “give your old man a break. They're a badge of wisdom and experience,” he rests his head on your lap, nuzzling close as you massage his scalp.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Breaking news: the ‘’lola” flower shop sets on fire just three hours ago. Our dear hero saves the day yet again, protecting the old lady just in time before her shop explodes. The cause of the fire is still unknown…”

Destruction out of nowhere again. Accidents out of nowhere again.

The voice of the newscaster on the television fades away in this little diner you're in. You drive your attention away from it, instead focusing now on the Polaroid pictures laid out infront of you.

The hero always wore a mask to cover his identity, obviously. But even after watching the countless of interviews he had, the deep tone slightly matches Wriothesley’s voice, or maybe he's changing his tone on purpose. You can see it by zooming in on the video, how he's catching his breath everytime he speaks when he's just sitting down.

Asthma? Nah.

You tap your fingers impatiently on the table, this is not helping at all, and the slightest itch in your brain worsens as the time goes by.

You think about giving up on this, but the possibility of finding the answer on how or why did all of this happen is probably closer to you than you think.

“Bad guys never end with their schemes. Bunch of attention seekers.” The hero speaks on the television, and you hum curiously as the hero salutes the camera playfully before disappearing from the crowd.

Is it possible that there are multiple heros? Working all together in some basement and taking turns to go out and do a better job than the police?

Possibly, and you write down your new theories down on your little notepad.

You check your phone next, Wriothesley still hasn't answered you back from your most recent text to him.

It's nothing to worry about, but the thought that he's busy saving the city is gnawing at you.

Batman?

You shake your head again, gathering your things to stand up from your seat. You should be blunt asking him about it tonight.

It's cold. Colder than usual. Was the air conditioning on? No. But the windows are sure wide open. You look around the living room before closing the windows and curtains from the outside world, as you draw the curtains, the outside world becomes obscured, leaving the room in a soft semi-darkness.

“Wriothesley, honey?” You call out softly, peeking through the bathroom, not there. The bedroom? Nope.

That leaves the kitchen, you slowly peek your head in he kitchen, and sure enough, he was there.

Wriothesley was rubbing his face in exhaustion while mumbling words under his breath that you can't quite hear. Having one singular glass of some drink in his hand.

“hero this.. hero that..” you finally listen to his mumbles, which makes you furrow your eyebrows together.

"Wrio...?" You call out softly, flipping the switch to turn on the light. His sharp eyes immediately dart up to look at you, and you can't help but shiver under his intense stare. You let out a small gasp of surprise as he suddenly stands up, the glass in his hand slipping from his grip and shattering on the ground along with its contents.

Taken aback by his sudden movement, you instinctively take a step back as he approaches you. But before you can even register what's happening, he crashes his lips against yours in a hasty, rushed kiss. Caught off guard, you cling tightly to him, desperately seeking support to prevent yourself from toppling over.

“You love me,” Wriothesley's voice breaks through the heated kiss, his words coming out in a low, guttural groan. He grips the back of your thighs, hoisting you up against the wall and wrapping your legs around his waist. “right?” His voice holds a hint of vulnerability and desperation, as if seeking reassurance and affirmation of your feelings for him.

And when you don't answer him right away, he takes your lower lip between his teeth, nipping at it gently, “answer me.” He almost growls.

“love, what are you taking about? Are you drunk?” You ask breathlessly in concern, your lips feeling swollen.

His jaw clenches, “Why can't you say it?” he inhales your perfume, your scent filling him that it makes him groan, his mouth lavishing your neck and collarbone, leaving kisses and littering marks then soothing the area with his tongue that it makes your pant softly, pressing your face into his hair while your fingers weaving through his black-greyish strands.

“i love you,” you utter quietly, and it suddenly makes him start grinding his hardened length against you. “I'm sorry in advance, sweetheart.”

One minute you're confused about his words, and then the next he's pounding so hard into you like there was no tomorrow.

Strings of “don't leave me,” and “i love you’s,” are echoed in the air. Wriothesley's mouth moves against yours with a sense of urgency and haste, his tongue gliding and tangling with yours in a fervent dance. The bed creaks so loud underneath you that you think it might break anytime, the embarrassment of the headboard banging against the wall immediately gone once he hits your sweet spot rapidly.

Poor neighbors

"Wrio... Wriothesley?” you slowly flutter your eyes open, still in the hazy realm between sleep and wakefulness. The sunlight streams through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room, and you blink a few times as you take in your surroundings. A quiet sense of contentment washes over you as you remember the events of the night before, the memories of Wriothesley's body against yours and his lips on yours still fresh in your mind.

You prop yourself up using your elbows, only to look down at the sight of your sleeping lover with his head pressed up on your chest. You collapse back on the bed with a tired sigh.

You still couldn't understand the reasoning behind his.. desperate actions last night. He seemed so pent up and stressed, you'll forgive him this time.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••• It's the day where you're covering for your colleague, being the cameraman for tonight's news. Yes, tonight.

Wriothesley would kill you if he knew you were working so late at night, but only because he cares about your safety. Good thing he's out of the city for a day.

Or he claims to be out of the city for some important work.

You press the button on your video camera, adjusting the lens to focus on the newscaster standing in front of the camera, holding the microphone with a serious expression. The news van is parked in front of a desolate, run-down neighborhood known for its high crime rate and dangerous reputation. The newscaster speaks into the camera, her eyes boring into the lens as she reports on the neighborhood.

“We are now standing in the heart of one of the most dangerous areas in the city. This neighborhood is notorious for its high crime rate and volatile atmosphere.”

Your senses are heightened at this rate and you really try to focus but the moment you hear the faint crunch of leaves, you lose composure just a bit.

Okay you're a bit scared, but as long as your workmates are he—

a group of armed gang members suddenly appear from the alleyways between the buildings, surrounding the news van and the camera crew. The newscaster, taken off guard, gasps and steps back.

The gang members brandish their weapons, circling the news crew menacingly. One of them shouts at the newscaster, waving his gun in the air. “Hold it right there, pretty lady. This is our turf! You ain’t gonna be broadcasting nothing about us!”

You're about to shit your pants for real this time.

“Drop your cameras and get outta here, or things are gonna get real ugly real fast,” he growls, and one of them points the gun right on your camera.

“I'm talkin’ to you too.”

Yeah, you're not going to fight anyone and act all big. You simply drop the camera on the ground to raise your hands in the air.

As the gang members close in on the news crew, the atmosphere is suddenly shattered by the sound of footsteps pounding against the pavement. Everyone turns to see a tall, muscular figure approaching from the distance.

It's the hero.

You watch in awe as the hero strides towards the group of armed gang members, his movements fluid and precise. With a swift swing of his fist, he lands a powerful punch on the leader's face, sending him stumbling backwards. The other gang members are taken aback by his sudden appearance and the display of force, their eyes widening in surprise and fear. They exchange nervous looks, realizing they're facing a much stronger opponent than they anticipated.

“Hey, let's go!” Your workmate calls for your name. Her hand waving at you so you could all retreat back to the van.

And before you could follow, the van explodes.

The sudden explosion catches you off guard, jolting you out of your stupor. Shouting in surprise, you recoil from the loud blast, ducking instinctively as debris and fragments fly through the air. Your colleague, sitting next to you in the van, lets out a terrified yell as the force of the explosion propels the driver backward. The van shudders and lurches from the impact, the windows shattering and various objects sent flying.

“in the building! Let's go!” All three of you dash to protect yourselves inside this tall company building.

“I will call the police,”

“but the hero is here!” the driver of the van speaks, almost yelling in frustration.

“the hero is also a human. Just a strong one. We can't rely on him—” but before you could continue, you all cover your ears once you hear gunshots come from outside.

Ohmygosh. It’s—it could possibly be Wriothesley who's getting hurt right now. What are even the chances?!

“Fine! Just call the fucking police!” The driver gives up, leaning back against the wall while breathing heavily.

You want to go out there. You want to see. It's your chance to see who the hero is if he got hurt. Just to get the crumbs of news in exchange for your life apparently.

When it grows quiet, you peek outside, “it's clear, I'll take a look—”

“No, you're not.” her hand is firm as she grips your wrist, “just let them go.” He, on the other hand, scowls.

“Be safe!” She shouts at you as you make a run for it, running down the alleyway while looking left and right.

Someone's in the area.

You dart behind the nearby dumpster, heart pounding in your chest as adrenaline courses through your veins. Hiding as best you can, you press yourself against the rough metal, trying to keep your breathing steady and quiet. Peeking out from behind the dumpster, you cautiously scan the surroundings, trying to catch a glimpse of someone nearby. For now, the area seems to be clear, but you can't shake the feeling that someone is in the vicinity, lurking in the shadows.

“Where ya at, lil’ birdie?” You cover your mouth when you hear someone speak, it sends a chill down your spine and you can feel your heart drumming in your ears.

Your sharp eyes turn to your side to find a metal rod, you don't hesitate to grab it before smacking the shit out of the guy.

No that did not happen, but you wish it did.

Instead, the minute you see his feet pass the dumpster, with a swift movement, you grab hold of both of his ankles, using your weight and leverage to pull them out from under him. He lets out a pained shriek as he suddenly loses his balance and topples to the ground, his body hitting the pavement with a thud.

Alright, you can be cool sometimes.

Stepping at his hands to hear him cry again, you run put of the place, making turns and finally spotting the hero sitting down against the building wall while panting, seemingly exhausted.

“…” you take slow steps once you approach him, looking down at him with your eyes already glistening.

This is it, you just have to confirm it.

Your hand pulls at his mask, “Wrio—”

Huh?

This…

Is not

Wriothesley.

“Ah, what the fuck?” He grunts, the blonde grabbing the mask from your hands and you take a step back.

“Elias?!” You yell out in confusion, it's your colleague that you're covering for supposedly today's shoot.

“You're the hero??”

“not a word. Scram, you freak.” he mutters, eyes diverting away from you and staring up at the roof. “The roof,” he whispers to himself, making the effort to stand back at his knees.

Is this bitch serious? He's the last person you expected to be the hero. With his stupidly arrogant and lax attitude.

You give him an almost death stare, studying his features again before making your way out.

You need to check the other people that were with you.

But when you arrive back at the building, they were gone.

Did the police arrive? You don't hear any sirens. Could they have possibly went up on one of the floors to hide?

You find yourself in the elevator next, watching as the doors close with your hands clasped infront of you nervously.

You take deep breaths, trying to calm your racing heart and steady your nerves. Hey, at least there's nice elevator music.

As the elevator comes to a halt, the doors slide open with a soft ding, revealing the rooftop and the figure standing in the open space.

There's a figure standing at the edge of the building, you can see the person's silhouette clearly now, but you can't make out their features just yet.

Your steps are hesitant as you slowly approach the figure, the wind gently billowing around you. The city lights twinkle below, but your attention is entirely focused on the person standing at the edge of the roof. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever may come, and call out tentatively, "Hello?”

Your voice rings in the air, that the person's shoulders tense.

When they look around, you're met by the same blue eyes you've known for three years now.

“Wriothesley.” You whisper, in shock, breathlessly under your breath.

He's holding.. a gun? The same gun you remember seeing in your dream.

Something in his mind snaps when you turn around, in fear. Like it was a mistake to ever see him in the first place.

Wriothesley doesn’t even give himself time to think before his body suddenly reacts, suddenly reaching out and circling his hand around your wrist to forcibly tug you back.

He yanks hard enough that you lose your balance and fall against him, his other arm coming up to wrap around your shoulders, preventing you from going anywhere.

“W-wrio—”

“think it's time we talk, sunshine.” He speak into your ear.

When you try to move the slightest from his hold, he grips you around him tighter. You figure it's best to stay still for now.

“what? Are you going to kidnap me now?” You manage to chuckle out, nervously though, your voice coming out more shaky than you intended to.

“Is that going to satisfy your little fantasy? What, I should play into it and shove you into a corner, keep you under my thumb until you’re begging me to set you free? Or no… you want to be saved by the hero.”

"You know you're not helping with your case, right? You really sound like the bad guy now.”

You’ve definitely found his breaking point because that comment makes him snap.

Wriothesley suddenly whirls you around so you’re facing him before he’s pinning you against the nearest wall, his body practically covering your own.

“Well…” He whisper, raising an eyebrow calmly in the way you look being at his mercy. “Aren’t I?”

Your jaw practically hangs at his words. Is he... Playing the bad guy now?

Or was he really… not the opposite of the hero?

He sees the shiver you try so hard to suppress and smirks at that, clearly satisfied with your reaction, “What’s wrong, sunshine? Finally realize that the man you’ve been dating isn’t the hero you've obsessing over?” He chuckles.

“i… i knew it—”

“You didn’t,” he says, his tone suddenly becoming cool and firm.

Wriothesley leans forward, pressing into you so that you’re smashed between him and the wall. His hand suddenly comes up, cupping your jaw so that he tilts your chin up to look directly into his eyes.

“If you’d known, you’d never have come within twenty feet of me. You’d never have been alone with me or spent a single night in our bed.”

He's right. And you hate it. You feel betrayed, lied to, even.

It makes you rethink your life choices.

You've gotten too comfortable with him that you didn't even think about him being the villian. You've gotten too close while you were being a complete idiot.

“you hid it.”

Wriothesley laughs, the sound almost sounding cold, “of course I hid it, sunshine. I wasn’t going to just come strutting in wearing a big, red sign saying ‘look at me, I’m a bad guy!’ was I?”

You clench your fists together, “you tricked me.”

“Tricked? No.” He shakes his head slightly. “I simply… left out key details.”

“Why?”

“ah, there it is.” He steps back, giving you space to breath, to recollect your thoughts.

“why? Because the hero isn't a hero. He started all of this destruction. Why? To get fame, recognition, power, and to be seen, to look like he's doing something when he's not.” He lets out all in one breath, and you lips part again.

“four years ago when the building almost fell on you? He did that, on purpose. then saved you to make it look like he's the one that everyone needs.”

What the hell?

“Wriothesley, we were strangers to each other four years ago. How did you know?” You don't hesitate to step closer to get more answers out of him, but he only stares at you.

You swallow thickly when he draws infront of you once again, “i did this all for you, love. I-i will do everything in my power to stop him, i will kill him so you wouldn't get hurt—”

“Okay, fucker. Out of my way,” Elias, the ’hero’, suddenly barks, and without warning, a gunshot rings out. The bullet pierces through Wriothesley's shoulder, causing him to flinch and stagger backwards.

Your eyes widen in horror as you watch the scene unfold. "Wriothesley!" you cry out, watching as he turns around despite the injury and charges towards Elias.

Despite the pain he must be in, Wriothesley doesn't relent. Ignoring the gunshot wound, he barrels towards Elias with unmatched determination, closing the distance between them.

"Bastard," Wriothesley manages to grit out as he collides with Elias, knocking him off his feet and sending them both crashing to the ground.

You don't hesitate to rush forward, with adrenaline fueling your actions, you move quickly towards them as they roll dangerously close to the edge of the roof.

"Stop!" you shout, your voice filled with desperation. "You'll fall!”

And surely enough, Your two hand clamps down on Wriothesley's, desperately grasping onto anything you can to prevent him from plunging off the edge.

Meanwhile, Elias grips Wriothesley's leg, using his strength to anchor him in place. The three of you hang there, suspended over the city, Wriothesley's body along with Elias’s dangling in the air.

“Sweetheart—”

“shut the fuck up I'm not letting go.” They're both too heavy, the feel of his fingers slipping away from yours increases everytime you try to pull them up.

Elias is purposely pulling Wriothesley's leg down to drop them both, your lips quiver, crying when two of his fingers slip now.

“hey,” his voice is soothing when he calls for you.

“at least… i protected you till the very end, right?” He tries smiling but it only makes the lump in your throat grow.

“i love you.”

“Wriothesley!”

…

“Wriothesley—!” You gasp harshly when you open your eyes so wide, finding that your hand was already reaching out for nothing.

You rest your hand on your chest before leaning back on your seat.

“are you okay?” The newscaster, the friend you made, offers you her handkerchief so you could swipe the sweat off your face.

“i think… continuesly searching about this, is making you stressed.” She points out, looking at the papers and drawings splayed out on your desk.

More theories of the disappearances of the hero and villian. Not their death. Their bodies were never found.

“it's been a year.”

The realization is like a punch to the gut as you bring a sweaty palm to rub at your temples.

“This is not over.” You whisper, more to yourself than to her. “We got no more trouble. No more heroic or bad guy news. The world is back to normal, almost like they never existed huh?”

Never existed.

She then suddenly gasps, which catches you off gaurd, “are engaged??” She eyes at the gem resting on your left ring finger.

The ring you found in one of his jacket pockets when you sorted his things out.

“yeah…” you decide to drawl out before sitting upright on your seat.

“now, if you'll excuse me, i got work to do.”

You're never going to stop searching, to find another answer of the question; 'why?'

Even if it will mean risking your life this time.

[luvf4ngz]

Til Death Do We Part Brings Us Together

grim reaper! jason todd

Description: Your constant close calls with death first captures the attention of the Grim Reaper, then his heart, and lastly, his devotions.

Contents: Female Reader, Mentions Of Death/Dying, References to Greek Mythology, Possessiveness, You Watch Pretty Woman and Read Pride & Prejudice Together Bc Yeah, Mentions Of Isolation But It’s Okay I Promise, Jason Is Lowkey Lonely And Desperate, Reader Has A Death Wish? Maybe?, Praise Kink, SO MUCH PRAISE, Unprotected Sex, Religious Symbolisms, Sacrilege?, Nipple Play, Jason Calls You Princess, Obviously???, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex, (Female Receiving), He’s So In Love, Jason Todd Is Touch Starved, Devotion, Jason Is A Munch, Overstimulation, Vaginal Sex, Yes Greek Gods Wear Boxers, Enthusiastic Consent, “Will it fit?” I’m Sorry Okay, Size Kink, Jason Todd Has A Big Dick, Gentle Dom Jason Todd, Intimate Sex, Slow Sex, Soft Sex, Aftercare, Cuddling

Word Count: 6081

Author’s Note: Jason is loosely based off of Thanatos from Greek Mythology/Hades (the game). It was kind of hard infusing his personality with the literal personification of Death, but I hope I did a good job! Also some details are completely made up or changed for the purpose of the fics, like how dying works in Greek Mythos. Please don’t come for me, I’m just trying to be horny on the internet. Without furthermore, please enjoy :)

Actually one more thing I have a Thanatos/Death playlist and I adore it to bits, please listen if you want.

Thank you @toruslvt for beta-reading!

He’ll do anything for his most devout follower, he’ll worship you twice as much as you ever could him. 

"Yet another brush with death." You heard a husky voice beside you, making you turn your head to look at the figure sheepishly. 

Whether you’re extremely unlucky or just unfathomably reckless, he’s not sure. All he knows is that your soul has been on the edge of being his over and over again - whether it was narrowly missing a car or falling into a river or even just choking on a bone. You always seem to make it out of those situations just fine, which has thoroughly caught his attention. 

 "You should really be more careful, you know." He looked at you and sighed. 

“I am! Or at least I try to be...” You murmur timidly, scratching the back of your neck. “It’s uh, it’s nice to see you again.” You give him a small smile, turning your body to face him. 

As always, he’s in his dark cloak, the hood lifted to conceal some of his hair, casting a shadow over his face. The gold accents adorning his body glint due to the faint sunlight casting through your kitchen window, the same sunlight making his tan skin glow, making him look otherworldly - which he was. 

He raised his eyebrow, “Is it now? Most people are terrified to see me.” He muttered, smirking a bit,

“I guess I’m used to you now.” Your grin gets a bit larger, warmer. “You don’t have your scythe.” You point out.

He lets out a slight chuckle at your observation, “Such a keen eye. I figured I wouldn’t need it, and I was right. What was it this time?”

Your face heats with embarrassment at the question. “I slipped.” You confess, pointing to the puddle of water on the ground. “Almost cracked my head open, I guess. But! I turned my body in time, so I’m fine.”

“Yes, that would explain your wet clothes.” His eyes trail down your body, catching slightly where your nipples peek out against the damp fabric, before looking back up to your face.

He clears his throat, “Haven’t you learned your lesson by now? It’s not even lunch time yet and you were on the brink of death. Aren’t you afraid of dying?” He scolds you.

“I mean, not really.” 

A pause of silence.

“What? You’re joking, right? How can you be so cavalier about this?”

“I don’t know, it doesn't seem so bad. It’s a natural part of life. Should I be scared?” 

“What kind of question is that?!” He raises his voice slightly, eyebrows scrunched as he looks at you. “Of course, you should be. Dying isn’t fun. You’ll be dead, trapped in the underworld for the rest of eternity. You should be trying to preserve your life while you still have it.”

“I am, though. I’m not saying I don’t like being alive, I’m just saying, when it happens, it’ll happen. There’s no use being so pre-cautious and anxious all the time.”

He lets out a huff, “You are… certainly a strange one.”

“In any case, I’d like to think my soul will go to Elysium. I'm a pretty good person, so I think the afterlife won’t be too awful for me.” You continue on, carefree.

"That isn't my point, though. Even if you're guaranteed a place in Elysium, you should still be more vigilant.”

“Why should I be? My end is already predetermined, isn’t it? Don’t the fates know when my time is up?”

“Well… yes, but-”

“Wait, then how come you visit me before I actually die?” You interrupt him, a realization suddenly taking place. “Near death experiences shouldn't summon you right?”

He hesitates a bit, caught. "You’re correct… I visit you on my own accord.”

“Why?” You tilt your head cutely, an innocent and puzzled look in your eyes.

“You’ve just caught my attention, is all.” He looks away. “I like to keep track of you, the Fates are wrong sometimes, and you basically have a death wish so I just… I like to make sure you’re okay.”

You smile slightly at his words, “You don’t want me to die?”

“Of course, I don’t. I like- I like to watch you. You’re interesting to me.” He chooses his words carefully.

“I am?” Your eyes brighten a bit at his words.

He turns back to you and nods, his hood shifting a bit with his movement, revealing a bit more of his hair. The white streak catches your attention. 

“I have to confess it’s… cute the amount of trouble you manage to get yourself into. It’s entertaining to see what you get up to, how you treat others, what you desire out of life.” His eyes move to look into yours. “Your mentality is quite unique, as well. You see dying as natural and not something to be feared, but I think you've accepted it to an… abnormal degree." He paused. "...You're the first person in a very long time to not express fear of me.”

“Why would anyone be afraid? You're only doing your job... and you're quite nice." 

He laughs, the deep rumble of his voice goes straight to your knees. "I think you're the first person to ever call the God of Death ‘nice’. You wouldn't believe the amount of people that fear me, even before their time is up. It's... exhausting, really. I can always hear their prayers, their cries, their pleads.”

"I mean I can’t blame them, I just can't share the same sentiment, especially with all the conversations that we've had."

He smiles at you, “You really are like a breath of fresh air. It’s nice to know that someone doesn’t hate me.” He pauses again, a soft look in his eyes. “But you should still be careful. You're not made of rubber after all. Don’t let me take you earlier than I should.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad, though.”

“What?” In such a short time, you’ve shocked him again.

“I wouldn’t mind dying knowing that you'll be the one waiting for me.” You say it so casually, continuing to smile at him, as if it wasn’t the sweetest thing anyone’s ever uttered to him. His heart beats a little faster as he stares down at you, stupefied. 

“You can’t mean that.” He replies after a while. 

“Why wouldn’t I?”

He’s speechless, dumb-founded. How could he possibly begin to explain that the idea of anyone liking him enough to allow him to take them from this world so happily was absurd?

“What?” You ask, noticing his sudden silence. “Why’s that so strange? I like talking to you, and when I’m in the afterlife you would keep me company, right?”

He lets out a breath and smiles a bit, the whites of his teeth peeking out behind the pink of his lips. “I’d be lying if I said that didn’t sound appealing.”

“Good.” You smile a little wider, your eyes crinkling as it makes his heart begin to race now. 

“I-I should get going, there’s uh- souls I need to get to.” He stutters out.

“Yeah, that sounds important. I should clean up with water. I’ll see you around uh… Mister Grim Reaper, sir.”

He lets out an amused huff. “Jason. Just call me Jason.”

“Will do.” You jokingly salute him, and it makes him let out another chortle. 

“Alright, farewell then.” He nods, before blinking out of your kitchen. 

You stare at the space he used to occupy for a bit, still smiling softly, before leaving to get a mop - and maybe a change of clothes.

“Are you sure it’s okay for you to be here?” You ask him, raising an eyebrow as you stare at him from the couch. 

“Yes.” He replies simply, his eyes and attention focus on the movie playing on your TV.

His visits have been more and more frequent lately, ever since the conversation the both of you shared in your kitchen. Now, Death, who prefers the name Jason, shows up even if you didn’t go through another life-threatening event. 

And right in this moment, Jason is standing in front of your couch, entirely enraptured by Pretty Woman, of all things. 

“Don’t you have to do your duty? I’m sure there’s a lot of lost, wandering souls right now.” You try again, concerned. 

“What? You don’t want me here?”

“I didn’t say that!” You put your hands up in defense. “I just don’t want you to get in trouble or something. Won’t Hades or the Fates or… whoever your superior is get angry?”

“Probably.” He shrugs. “But what are they going to do? Kill me?” He casts you a glance from the corner of his eyes, before going back to the movie. “Besides, souls can’t leave the mortal body without me being there. They’ll just rest for a bit, I can always come get them after.”

“I guess that’s fine then.” You sigh out. “Could you at least sit down?” 

Jason lets out a nod, before moving to the couch, taking a seat beside you but still keeping his distance. 

He watches the rest of the movie in silence beside you, enjoying your company. His eyes flick over to admire you a few times, taking in your immersed gaze and noticing the way you’re clutching a plushie so close to you (cute). When you sniffle, when a few tears trail down your face, when your parted lips form a pout at the ending, his heart pumps hard in his chest. 

This was a much better use of his time. 

“You have so many books.” Jason states, his figure crouched so that he could properly read all the titles. His hood is off, fully revealing his soft, dark hair - the white streak a beautiful contrast. 

“Who’s the observant one, now?” You chuckle from your place on the bed, eyes not leaving the novel in your hands. 

He rolls his eyes, “What are you reading?”

“Pride and Prejudice.” You hum softly, eyes still scanning the page. 

“What’s that about?” Jason asks, walking away from the bookshelf and towards you. 

“Uh, it’s a little complicated.” You murmur, “But basically it’s two people learning to get over their, well, pride and prejudices to fall in love.” 

He lets out a hum, “Read it to me?” 

“Oh my Gods, you’re so lucky, I just got to the best part.” Your eyes watch him as he lays down beside you on your bed, the fabric of his black cloak pooling around his body. 

“Elizabeth was surprised, but said not a word. After a silence of several minutes, he came towards her in an agitated manner, and thus began: ‘In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.’ Elizabeth’s astonishment was beyond expression.” 

Jason turned to his side in order to get a better view of you. He watches how your eyes practically light up as you read, a smile gracing your face. He can’t help but think how pretty you look like this. 

“She stared, coloured, doubted, and was silent. This he considered sufficient encouragement; and the avowal of all that he felt, and had long felt for her, immediately followed. UGH, it’s so romantic!” You yell out, clutching the book to your chest and rolling back and forth slightly, making him let out a chuckle at your antics. “I mean at this point in the book I still hate Darcy but Gods, the way it’s written is just so good!” 

He falls silent for a bit, his gaze affectionate as he watches you. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

You stop your giddy reactions, looking at him curiously. “Yeah, what is it?”

“Do you remember when you said you wanted to be with me in the afterlife?”

“Hm? Yeah, why?”

He took a deep breath. "Let's say... let's just pretend for a moment, that when you die... I don't guide you to the afterlife. Instead, I take you somewhere else with me."

You sit up slightly, pushing yourself up on your arms, turning your body to face him. “Where would we go?” You set your book aside on the nightstand. 

“To… my home. I have a residence on the outskirts of Tartarus. You would be safe there, I can make sure that nothing would bother you.” He sits up fully, grabbing and holding your hands gently. “Please, I want you to stay with me. I get so lonely, and I just- I like being around you.” His tone is soft, pleading and sincere as he confesses his desires to you.

You smile back at him, eyes crinkling softly in that way that he’s come to adore. “I’d like that.”

“Really?” He gasps out, face mirroring yours as a bright smile overtakes his features.

“Mhm,” You hum, “It’ll take some time, though.”

He shakes his head, hands gripping yours a bit tighter, “I would wait the entire rest of eternity for you, if I had to.”

“Well, I’ll be sure to not make you wait that long.” You giggle out.

“I’d hope not. I want to have you with me, I want to keep you around until the end of time itself.” 

“I think that’s the most romantic thing anyones ever said to me, Jay.” Your tone is light, teasing. 

“There’s a catch though,” He pauses, hesitant to see your reactions. “You won’t be able to leave the house or see anyone else. I can’t risk you getting found. B-but I get you anything you need, I can make you happy.”

“That sounds just fine to me.” 

His eyes glisten in happiness, a bright shine in them. “Then... it's settled. I will take you to my home, and you will stay with me… forever.” His glances down to your lips for a second, before quickly looking back into your eyes. 

You notice the movement, heart beating a bit faster.

“Could I kiss you?” He whispers, his voice low and warm. 

“Yeah,” You mumble back.

He leans in closer, hands releasing yours as one places itself on the small of your back, pulling you closer to his body as the other gently grips your chin. He leans down, tilting your head up until he feels the soft press of his lips to yours. Warmth floods his body as he feels electricity in the air, and he feels his heart pound behind his ribcage when your own arms wrap around his neck.

Your touch, your taste, was addicting. You were tender and sweet, and Jason never wanted this moment to end. He groans when he feels your hand begin to play with his hair, and he presses himself closer to you, both hands moving to grip your waist. 

His grip tightened on you as your kiss intensified, his body started to tremble as it filled with a desire so deep that it was all-consuming. 

Eventually you break apart from him, needing air. He dismays at having to pull away, but allows you to do so.

"If that's what's waiting for me at the end of my life, maybe I do want to die sooner…” You joke, breathless.

He groans again, “Don’t… don’t say that. Don’t tempt me, I can’t take it.” He presses his forehead to yours, both of your breaths mingling together.

You giggle, pulling him in by the back of his neck to kiss him again. He relents easily, his heart skipping when you hum softly against his lips, the desire in his body igniting higher and higher. 

Eventually, he’s the one to pull away, his breath tickling you as he trails his nose against your neck. He can feel the soft tremor in your breath as your body shivers against his. “Can we go further?” He murmurs into the skin.

“Yeah, I want more.” You nod.

“Good, I do too. I want all of you.” He begins to press his lips to your neck, lightly leaving kisses and bites that you have squirming and gasping. 

“You have me.”

“You don’t understand.” He shakes his head. “You... you don't know how much I've been longing for you. Your presence alone gives me joy. Having you touch me… it makes my heart pound and my body melt. The way you talk, the sounds you make... it’s perfect. I want to touch you. I want to hold you. I want to know everything about you. I want all of you.”

“You can have that too…” You sighed out. 

“You drive me crazy.” He groans, leaning close again to kiss you deeply, caressing the sides of your body. He wasn't holding back anymore. He couldn't. He wanted you so much that it ached in his bones. His hands started sliding slowly but surely, caressing your back and waist. He couldn't get enough of you, and your body’s twitching and the sound of your heavy breaths was such a thrilling sensation that he was consumed by it entirely.

“Jason…” You pant out his name as you experimentally grind your body against his, whining when you feel his hard cock rub against your clothed cunt, your hands holding him tighter. 

The sound drove him crazy with arousal, his body wracked with longing. You felt so good and he couldn't help but lean into you more, allowing you to press against him over and over and over. The feeling of heat was flooding his entire being, his cock throbbing beneath his cloak.

He worships the feeling of you grinding against him for a few more moments, his breath coming out in husky pants before he rolls you onto your back, hovering above you. 

"Just be a good girl and let me do all the work, now." His voice is husky, needy, as he leaned down and kissed your neck again, his breath hot and his body trembling with anticipation. 

You whine again, rubbing your thighs together to relieve the sudden ache between them. Your eagerness spurs him on, he presses a peck to your cheek before sitting back on his knees to gaze down at you. 

“Gods, you’re gorgeous.” He mutters, his hand slips up your shirt a little, and he shivers at the instant warmth of your skin. “Can I take this off?”

You nod rapidly, quickly pulling off your top and tossing it aside, revealing yourself to him.

Jason responds by leaning down to litter kisses over your body, a flush on his cheeks. His lips are soft and reverent almost as they softly touch your heated skin. He takes your nipple into his mouth sucking slightly, as a hand comes up to tweak and roll the other one. 

“Jay…” You call out his name, your back arching slightly,  and he never wants to stop hearing your voice. 

“I got you, princess.”

He lowers his mouth, trailing down your body until he reaches the hem of your bottoms. “Can I take this off, too?” 

“Do anything you want, Jay.” You breathe out, head dizzy with your need.

“You sure?” He asks, fingers hooking into both your pajama pants and underwear, dragging them down your body, uncovering inch after inch of your naked body. 

You look like a dream under him, eyes blown with lust, lips parted, body bare for him as you nod. He sets your clothes aside, going back to relishing you. 

You look away softly from embarrassment, “You take off your clothes, too…”

Your shyness got to him and he could help but laugh softly. You were so cute. He took a step back and off the bed, pulling off his cloak. He could feel your eyes watching his every movement, could feel your eyes rake his form as you settled on the bed. 

His gold adornments drop to the floor with a ‘clunk’, quickly followed by his black trousers. 

“You’re so beautiful.” You softly praise. You can’t help but to stare at him, eyes lingering on every sculpted muscle or coloured scar of his frame. 

He couldn't help but feel like you were the beautiful one. The way your eyes traveled over his body made his heart beat fast. He felt like he was on top of the world, knowing you admired him.

He climbs back onto the bed, taking his place between your legs as he lays on his stomach. His hands come to grip around your thighs, pulling you closer to him. 

“Oh.” You gasp slightly at the intimate position, gulping as your blood pumps faster through your veins. 

He slides a hand down towards your cunt, already slick for him. A thumb parts your swollen lips as he gently glides it up and down, before pressing it against your sensitive bud. 

“Ah-” You moan oh so sweetly for him, hips twitching as he starts rubbing your pretty clit. Your body was so responsive to him, and it makes a grin break onto his face. 

He brings his thumb away, making you frown before replacing it with his mouth, lips wrapped around the nub. 

“W-wait!” You cry out, hands flying into his hair as you do your best to not buck into his face. He smirked around you, starting to suck despite your call. Your reaction only added fuel to the fire burning inside him, your writhing body and shaky gasps were too much for him to handle. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart, just let yourself feel good.” He mumbles into your cunt before going back to sucking and lapping at you. He holds you close to his face, his grip firm to keep you as still as he could. 

He groans as you tug at his roots, the sound vibrating around your needy clit. Your desperate moans and whispers drove him crazy. He liked how fast you were breathing, how much you were moving. You were a squirming, twitching mess underneath him as the sensation became too overwhelming.

“Jason, oh my Gods.” You gasp.

“I’m your only God, now, right? Just me…” His hand moves to your fluttering hole, slowly pressing two fingers inside you. They slip in easily with how wet you are, dripping your desire down his wrists. He feels you clamp down on them, slick walls sucking him in further.

“Jason, Jay!” His name slips from your lips like a chant, a prayer wrapped in shallow breaths. 

“Keep saying my name just like that, pretty girl.” He loves the way you make it sound, loves the way you say it. Not Grip Reaper. Not Death. Just Jason. Your Jason. 

“Oh, Jay…” You breathe out his name like you’re struggling to even think.

“You’re such a sensitive thing, aren’t you?” He coos, starting to move his fingers in and out of you. He smirks when you squeal as he curls his fingers up, pressing against that soft, vulnerable spot inside you. His arm moves to keep you down, pinning your hips to the bed as he goes back to tasting you.

“N-not there!”

“Why not? Doesn’t it feel good?”

“It’s too much!” You’re breathless, barely able to gasp out replies as he keeps abusing that spot inside you. 

“Do you want me to stop?” Jason slows his pace, fingers dragging painfully slow against your aching, slick walls, making you let out a needy mewl, clenching on him. 

“No! P-please don’t.” You pout, softly tugging at his head to turn his attention fully on you. 

“Say my name. Tell me what you want.”

You hesitate a bit, pondering your words. “Make me feel good, Jason. Make me cum.” Your tone is so soft and pleading, it’s the best worship he’s ever heard. 

The only prayers he’s ever heard were cries for his absence, beseeching his very being and purpose, but with you - he’s found a new one. You want him, you want him closer, you want him to make you feel bliss. He can do that. He’ll do anything for his most devout follower, he’ll worship you twice as much as you ever could him. 

He dives back down with a fervor, thick fingers working you quickly, the soft squelches increasing in volume and frequency. His tongue traces your clit, sucking and rolling and indulging in the way you writhe and whimper below him. 

He keeps going as you squirm uncontrollably, as your body tenses further and further, as your eyes glaze over and your heart pounds. Your nerves are frayed and begging for relief as the soft warmth of his tongue doesn’t let up. Your grip on his hair tightens, making him grunt low and husky into you. 

“Jason, m’gonna… can I please-?” You can barely make out full sentences, head fuzzy and blood searing as the dam inside you threatens to break. 

“You don’t have to ask, just do it.’ He murmurs; his cock throbs in his garments, waiting for you to release on his tongue. 

The feeling overtakes you, making you choke out a shaky cry as you climax. Your thighs squeezes his head, fingers buried deep into his dark locks as you tremble. You’re lightheaded and breathless and euphoria has settled in every inch of your veins. 

Jason removes his fingers, gripping your thigh as his mouth slots against your leaking cunt as he engulfs his tongue into your taste. He greedily laps up your slick, moaning as it blooms over his tongue - more sweet and addictive than even ambrosia. 

Your cries are so adorable as he continues to seek out every last drop of cum from you, your body pliant and weak below him as you keen and mew. 

“J-Jay…” You stutter out his name as your body twitches, sensitivity kicking in. 

“Yes, love?” He barely pauses to utter out those words, mind set on devouring you whole. 

“C-can’t!” He frowns, giving you one last lick before pulling himself away from you.

His eyes are filled with a feral like need, mouth smeared and shiny with the aftermath of your arousal. “Did that feel good?” He husks out, “You looked so divine, cumming.’

You’re panting hard under him, mind dizzy as you process his words, nodding in reply.

“I want to make you feel that way for the rest of eternity, you’ll let me right? You’ll stay with me?” Now that he’s had you, he doesn’t think he can survive on his own anymore. 

“Y-yeah, Jay.” You nod again, voice small. 

He raises himself up, licking you off his hand before he crawls over your body again. His legs slot between yours, tangling the both of you together. He leans down, sighing out in satisfaction as your damp, warm skin presses into his. 

His lips brush over yours, silently asking for permission to kiss you again. You accept him willingly, hands drifting to hang loose around his neck as you push your lips to his.

He groans, hand gripping your waist and the other running through your hair as he explores your mouth. You can taste yourself on him, spit mixing together as he groans into your lips. 

He pulls back, both your breaths lingering in the small space between your faces. He trails his nose down to the sensitive skin of your neck, teeth dragging lightly across the flesh. 

“I want all of you, so bad.” He groans. “I’ll do anything for you. Can you tell me I’m yours?”

He so desperately wants to belong to you - to know that one day you’ll accompany him in the deepest pits of Tartarus - that you’ll never let him be alone again. 

“You want to be mine?” Your tone is puzzled, words ending in a lilt. 

“Please.”

You smile, hands coming to hold his face, thumbs gently caressing his cheeks. “Who knew the God of Death would be so needy?” You tease.

“You try being alone and hated since the dawn of existence.” He sighs, melting into your touch. His eyes close, leaning into your palms. 

You giggle a bit. “We can be each other's.” Your lips break out into a grin as you bring his face down to yours, pressing pecks all over. 

He relishes your kisses, letting out a deep, happy sigh. His cock is still painfully hard, straining against his boxers, but he tries to ignore it. He opens his eyes and brushes your stray hair behind your ears, slightly damp with your sweat. 

“Jay,” You murmur his name, pulling back to look at him, “I want more.”

“More? You want me to eat you out again?” His mouth salivates at the thought of having your taste on his tongue again. He’ll do anything you ask. 

You shake your head, thumbs rubbing along his cheekbones, “I want you to fuck me, Jay.”  

“You do? Are you sure?” He whispers. 

His breath hitches as you nod, blinking up at him with those pretty eyes of yours. 

“I wanna feel you, Jay. J-just go slow, I’m still sensitive.”

“You’re sensitive?” He huffs out an amused breath, smiling softly. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you. I’ll make sure of it.”

You try to press your thighs together, getting excited by his promises and husky tone. He feels your legs shift around his, smirking as he takes in your desperate body language. 

He shifts back again, tugging his boxers down. Your eyes trail to his now exposed cock, standing proud and flushed and daunting. 

He’s…. big. 

Your jaw drops a little as you take him in, your mind reeling with thoughts of “Will it fit?”.

“Hm? Don’t worry. I said I was going to take care of you.” Jason murmurs, voice adoring. He positions himself back between your legs, hands lifting your legs to encourage them to wrap around his waist. You willingly follow his guidance. 

His hands come to hold your hips steady, hips canting forwards to rub the head of his cock through your folds. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” You reply softly, hands drifting to lay on top of his, gently grabbing his wrists. 

He pushes inside of you, pace steady and measured as he tries his best to let you adapt to him.

“Ohmyfuck…” You slur, words mushing together as you feel him stretch you out. You grip him a bit tighter. 

“Just relax, pretty girl.” He mutters, thumbs rubbing circles into your skin to calm you down. He continues pushing himself inside you, making you feel every ridge and detail and inch. It’s slow and deliberate; he’s savoring watching the way your cunt sucks him in, the way your head tilts back, how shallow and quick your breaths have gotten. “Can you feel it? Am I too big for you?” He teases, eyes shining with both mischief and affection. He pushes forwards again. 

Your pussy flutters around the girth of him, slick pouring out with every second, making the process that much smoother. 

You try to take deep breaths, groaning softly as you feel the way he bullies into you, nestling deep inside. 

“S’it in yet?” You hiccup.

He chuckles softly, you were just so endearing. He was taking his time, enjoying the feeling of you. “It’s not even halfway yet, baby.” He coos. 

“S-still?” Your eyes widen a bit, as he laughs again.

“Just lay down and take it, princess. I’ll do everything, don’t think about a thing.” He leans down and silences your whimpers with a kiss. His lips lock onto yours as he swallows your moans, moving his hips until he feels you flushed against him. 

He pulls back, body once more shadowing over yours. His eyes drift down to where the two of you connect. “Look at that, she took me all in. I told you that you didn’t need to fret, love.” 

“A-ah, it’s so deep…” You mumble. 

“Isn’t it?” He grins. 

He starts to move back and forth, instantly groaning at the intoxicating sensation of you wrapped warm and snug around his pulsing cock. 

He keeps his pace slow, staying true to his promise. He doesn’t mind though, he’s just relishing in every little detail of you, burning the memory of how you look, feel, and sound into his mind - a treasure for eons to come. 

You’re moaning uncontrollably, hands moving to grip at his biceps, nails digging slightly into the skin. He grunts, liking the shark twang of pain that shoots through his body. 

He can feel you clamping around him desperately, like your body needed more. You’re so wet and sloppy, he can feel your slick smearing on his thighs with every thrust. 

“Feels s’good, baby.” He groans, and immediately he feels you clench on him again. “Did you like that?” He grins. 

“Uh-huh,” You nod dumbly, eyes unfocused as whines spill from your throat. 

“My pretty girl likes it when I praise her, huh?” The next words flow from him easily, he’s venerated you so much in his mind already that the flattery comes easy. He wants you to know exactly what you make him feel. “You’re so fucking perfect for me, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted.” 

Everytime he bottoms out you can feel him in your throat.

“J-Jay…”

Your bodies blend together, waves of pleasure overtaking you both with each long stroke. You can feel every inch and vein and crevice of him pushing against your sensitive walls. 

He continues speaking. “You make me fall apart so easily, my love. I want to give you my everything. I’ll be at your disposal from now on, you can do whatever you want with my body, as long as you stay by my side.” His tone is deep, dripping with lust. “Your pretty pussy takes me so well, it’s like you were made for my cock, yeah?”

A shiver of arousal runs through your body at his speech, lower body getting hotter. You feel like you’re surrounded by lava, melting and wound tight all at once. 

“Your body is so beautiful, I don't want anyone else to touch you; I want you only for myself.” His hands lift your hips up a little, his cock pressing inside even deeper than before, making you let out a yelp. 

He’s hitting every good spot inside you, knocking the breath from your lungs even with his sensual pace. You feel constant spurts of warmth pouring out of you, and you notice just how soaked the mattress is beneath your shivering body. 

“Are you enjoying yourself, love?”

“S-so much, Jay,” You whine out, clutching him harder. 

“Good, I want to be the only one that can make you feel like this.”  

Each rock of his hips gets you higher and higher, dangling on the edge of release. The glide of him is so smooth and sweet as he drags against you.

“M’gonna cum, Jay.” You sigh out, voice high and whiny.

“Good girl, go on and soak my cock. Show me just how much you’re enjoying this.” 

A few more more moments and you’re letting go, gripping his biceps hard as elation sinks deep into your bones. A sob of his name escapes your parted lips, body tingly and twitchy as endorphins rush through your veins. He groans as he feels your slick walls convulse around him. His grip on your waist tightens momentarily as he pulls out, his cum instantly spilling onto your stomach. Relief floods his system as he pants hard, chest heaving as he catches his breath. 

The both of you bask in the afterglow of your climaxes, the soft sound of breathing drifting on the heated air. Jason thinks you look divine with your hair spread on the bed, his seed marking your skin as sweat glistens your body. You think the view of him above you, satisfaction prominent on his face, is just as sacred. 

When Jason’s body settles he gently slides out of you, smiling apologetically at your small wince. He goes to your bathroom, having memorized the layout of your house from all the times he’s visited you. He returns with a damp towel, mournfully wiping his traces off of you. He throws the rag into your laundry basket, crawling beside you in bed and pulling you into his chest.

“How ya doing, princess?” He whispers into your hair.

You give him a small, happy hum in return, scooting yourself even closer into him. 

"You're so soft," He mumbles, nuzzling into you. "This is where I want us to stay, for eternity. Nothing else, forever."

“That sounds perfect, Jay.” You reply, yawning slightly. 

Jason’s smile grows even wider, his arms tightening around you. He looks down at you with an adoring gaze, your warm and tender body slotting perfectly against his. "There is nothing, and no one in this world that I want more than you, my dearest."

Thank you so much for reading! A comment or reblog is much appreciated. Have a great day <3

- sumi ☆ミ

ミ☆ masterlist

requested tags: @a-deadbeat-fucking-valentine @in-som-niyah

[yawnderu]

Seasons Don't Fear The Reaper — Death!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Life!Reader

Ice and fire, acid and stone; life and death. Two complete opposites coming together, forming a never-ending cycle. Your creations will inevitably go to him once their time has come, and you've come to accept every single life you create with your bare hands is a gift to Death.

"My old friend." You recognize the voice immediately, yet your attention is focused on the field of white roses surrounding you, the beautiful lake making his imposing figure look almost majestic. He takes a seat next to you, skull gloved hand lowering the hood of his cloak before his hand is on your waist, holding you close.

"Death." You greet, gaze drifting up towards him, taking in all the details of his bare face, a sight reserved for you only. His brown eyes are focused on you, not feeling uncomfortable by the way you're examining his features.

"You look as lovely as ever." Your bare hands trace the length of his scythe, head leaning on his shoulder as you look up at him with nothing short of raw adoration.

"I got something in your honor." He lifts an eyebrow with curiosity as you raise the sleeve of your white dress, showing a highly detailed black tattoo of the grim reaper, a skull instead of his handsome face. A small chuckle of amusement comes out of him, lips curling up into a small smirk.

"Brave girl." He compliments, smirk growing wider as he lifts the sleeve of his cloak just to reveal a tattoo you've never seen among his existing sleeve— a dove, one wing stretched out, the other one guarding its heart. It was old, healed a long time ago, yet he never once mentioned it.

"Why'd you never tell me?" You ask curiously, hand drifting up to gently caress his bare cheek.

''You didn't ask.'' His hand rests on top of yours, easily dwarfing it.

''Was I supposed to read your mind?'' He simply nods his head, planting a gentle kiss on your palm before his fingers intertwine with yours. His touch is gentle as he changes positions, getting on his knees while his other hand rests on your hip, slowly lowering you onto the soft, green grass.

Simon's head rests comfortably on your chest, your hands coming up to run through his short, cropped hair, a smile forming on your lips at the content sigh coming out of him.

''Do you know what they say? How seasons don't fear the rea—'' His warm hand is gently planted over your mouth, muffling your laugh.

''Don't. Just... Don't.''

[gh0stsp1d3r]

ℱ𝒶𝓇𝓂ℯ𝓇𝓈 𝒹𝒶𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉ℯ𝓇

Masterlist

warnings: none! Fluff. This is unedited

You sat on the porch, legs crossed as you sat in the chair. You sipped on lemonade, and a book was held in front of you.

Although, you weren’t paying any attention to the words on the pages in front of you. You were looking at the handsome boy in your front yard, plucking weeds and cutting the long grass with a scythe.

Now your dad was gone, thankfully, out in the village to go do some “business.”

The boy had a hat over his head, the top few buttons of his shirt undone. Your father had hired him to do some jobs around the yard and barn, and you had been using it to your advantage.

He glanced up at you, like he had been the whole time. He gave you a small smile and wave, your cheeks heating up, hoping that he hadn’t caught you starting at him.

You waved back, before hiding your face completely behind your book, smiling widely.

After a while, he walked over to the porch. You built up the courage, putting the book down.

“Hey.” You said, smiling at the boy, looking at him.

“Ma’am.” He nodded, tipping his hat and giving you a smile back, sitting down next to you.

Your face twisted up. “Ma’am?” You asked.

“It’s… formal. Right?” He shrugged.

“I guess. I’m y/n. Please call me that.”

“JJ.” He told you, holding his hand out for you to shake. You shook it with no hesitation.

You grimaced when you felt the sweat on your hands, smiling and gently wiping the sweat on your shorts.

“Sorry. Been out all day.” He said, chuckling awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“No, you’re fine. You want something to drink? Water? Lemonade…? My dad’s got a couple cases of beer.” You tilted your head to the side, still smiling at the boy.

He smiled at you. “Looks like we are gon’ get along.”

—

You both now hung out in the back, next to the stables, sipping on beers, chatting under the stars.

“It’s nicer ‘round here.” He suddenly spoke, looking around.

“Round here?” You questioned, quirking an eyebrow and turning to him.

“With all the farms and ranches and shit. Sorry for my language-“

“You don’t live down here?” You asked him.

He shook his head, smile faltering. “Nah.”

“Where do you stay then?” You asked him.

“This little cabin wit’ my dad. Probably ‘bout the size of your shed.” He chuckled, downing the rest of the beer. He suddenly felt self-conscious.

“How do you know so much about the horses and cattle then?” You asked him, genuinely curious.

“I uh… I take these jobs a lot. Whenever I can. I’m tryna own one, but…”

“That’s nice.” You muttered, looking back up at the stars.

“What is?” He snickered. “The fact I’m poor?”

“No… that you have a goal. I think it’s good to have that.” You nodded, giving the boy a small smile.

He looked at you, corners of his mouth twisting up. You stared up the sky still, enamored with the constellations.

“You think so?”

“I do. And I think you can do it. You’re a sweet boy, y’know that, Jj? And I think that it’s good that you’re working towards something.” You told him, turning your head to finally look at him.

His smile widened. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

On the walk home, he had realized he had a crush on the farmers daughter.

[moonlight-joy]

Death And The Hunter

Fandom: Kraven the hunter

Summary: Kraven has been hunted by death itself for years, cursed to never die despite his dangerous lifestyle. You’re a Reaper sent to collect his soul, but instead of running, Kraven welcomes you. Intrigued by his fearless nature, you offer him a deal: help you capture rogue souls in exchange for more time.

Pairing: Reader/Sergei Kravinoff

The moon hung low in the sky, casting silvery beams across the dense forest. The air was heavy with the scent of earth and leaves, and the distant howl of wolves echoed through the trees. But none of it unsettled Kraven. He moved through the wilderness with practiced ease, every step deliberate, every breath measured. He was the hunter—always had been. But tonight, he was the hunted.

The Reaper stood at the edge of the clearing, shrouded in a cloak as dark as the night itself. You watched him silently, your scythe resting lightly against your shoulder. Your orders had been clear: collect the soul of Sergei Kravinoff. The mortal who had cheated death for far too long.

But as you observed him, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of curiosity. He wasn’t running. He wasn’t hiding. Instead, he turned toward you, his sharp eyes gleaming in the moonlight. There was no fear in his gaze. Only defiance.

“You’ve finally come,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I was wondering when death would catch up to me.”

You stepped into the clearing, the ground beneath your feet seeming to hush in your presence. “You’re not afraid?” you asked, tilting your head slightly.

Kraven chuckled, a sound that was both amused and weary. “I’ve lived too long to fear the inevitable.”

You regarded him carefully. Most mortals begged, bargained, or fled when faced with you. But not Kraven. He stood tall, his gaze unwavering. There was a spark in him, a vitality that death rarely encountered.

“You’re different,” you murmured, lowering your scythe slightly. “Most try to avoid me.”

“Perhaps they don’t understand what it means to truly live,” he replied, stepping closer. “I’ve faced death a thousand times in the hunt. It’s only fitting that death would come for me in the end.”

You found yourself intrigued by his words. There was something magnetic about his presence, a pull that you couldn’t quite explain. But your duty was clear. His time had come.

“Sergei Kravinoff,” you began, your voice resonating with ancient power, “your soul is due. You’ve defied the natural order for too long.”

Kraven crossed his arms, his expression thoughtful. “And if I refuse to go?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You can’t refuse death.”

He smiled faintly. “No, but I can make a proposition.”

Curiosity stirred within you. “What kind of proposition?”

“I know you don’t only collect souls,” Kraven said, his voice steady. “You hunt the ones that escape. The rogues, the ones who defy the balance. Let me help you.”

You blinked, taken aback by the offer. “Why would you want to do that?”

“Because I’m tired,” he admitted. “I’ve been running for too long, chasing prey, chasing purpose. Let me do something that matters. Give me more time, and I’ll help you restore balance.”

You considered his words carefully. It was an unusual request, and one you weren’t sure you had the authority to grant. But there was something compelling about Kraven—something that made you want to give him a chance.

“One condition,” you said finally. “If you betray me, I will take your soul without hesitation.”

Kraven nodded solemnly. “Fair enough.”

With a flick of your wrist, your scythe disappeared, fading into the shadows. “Then we have a deal.”

The days that followed were unlike anything you’d experienced before. Kraven proved to be a formidable ally, his skills as a hunter invaluable in tracking rogue souls. Together, you traveled through realms both mortal and ethereal, confronting spirits who had slipped through the cracks of the natural order.

But as the days turned into weeks, you found yourself growing closer to him. There was a quiet intensity to Kraven, a depth of emotion he rarely showed. He was a man of few words, but when he spoke, his words carried weight.

One evening, as you sat by a campfire in the mortal realm, Kraven glanced at you from across the flames. “Do you ever tire of your duty?” he asked, his voice thoughtful.

You considered the question carefully. “It’s not something I’ve ever thought about,” you admitted. “Death is eternal. It’s all I’ve ever known.��

“But you’ve never lived,” he said quietly. “You’ve never experienced the thrill of the hunt, the joy of a fleeting moment.”

His words struck a chord within you. You’d always seen your role as necessary, inevitable. But Kraven’s perspective made you question everything you’d believed.

“And you?” you asked, your gaze steady. “Do you regret anything?”

Kraven’s expression darkened slightly. “I regret many things. But I don’t regret surviving. Not yet.”

There was a pause, the crackling fire filling the silence. Then, softly, he added, “But I wonder if my time is coming to an end.”

You leaned forward, your eyes locked on his. “What do you mean?”

“There’s a reason death hasn’t taken me,” he said. “A secret tied to my soul. If you knew the truth…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “You might regret making this deal.”

A chill ran down your spine, but you didn’t look away. “Tell me.”

Kraven hesitated for a long moment before speaking. “My soul is bound to something ancient—something dangerous. If it’s released, it could tip the balance of life and death.”

The weight of his words settled heavily between you. “And if I take your soul?”

“Chaos,” he said simply. “But if you don’t…”

“Then you’ll never be free,” you finished quietly.

The revelation hung in the air, altering the dynamic between you. Kraven wasn’t just a man who had cheated death. He was a man carrying a burden that could reshape the very fabric of existence.

“What do we do?” you asked, your voice steady despite the turmoil in your mind.

Kraven met your gaze, a flicker of hope in his eyes. “We hunt. Together. And maybe, just maybe, we’ll find a way to break the curse.”

And so, with the flames of the fire burning low, you made a silent vow. To hunt, to protect, to find a way to save him—no matter the cost.

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[livefromthedas]

That Time Flirting Accidentally Worked

(Also up on AAO3, here)

Summary:

Rook Ingellvar, famously a dumpster fire amongst Mourn Watchers, manages to fall face-first into dating one Emmrich Volkarin.

Nice.

Notes:

I swear to God I intended to start DATV fanfic writing for my Lucanis/Rook playthrough... but this came out instead. Strike while the hyper-focus iron is hot, I guess.

I tried to write this Rook (F, Mourn Watcher) as vaguely as possible while still making sure she was reflection of the character in my head, so hopefully that works for readers.

Please note that while I'm utilizing quite a bit of canon knowledge about Navarra and Navarran culture, here, there is also a ton about the place that we just do no know, so a lot of information here is extrapolated (aka, pulled directly out of my butt.) I had fun though, at least, exploring more of the place, and creating my own little pocket of extra romance content for Emmrich and Rook as well.

And yeah, this will probably get spicy. Just a heads up.

———————————

Chapter 1: Hot Date for a Hot Mess

The needling fire of over-exertion kept a purposeful momentum in Rook’s stride the entire journey home from their latest magic-riddled battle with the Venatori in Arlathan.

That fight, deep in the autumn hewn forest - an apparent ambush - had been jarring and brutal. Had Davrin not been with them, with Assan to serve as their own surprise attack from the sky, Rook was quite certain that, for all of their combined competency, she and Emmrich Volkarin may very well have met a swift, very bloody end that day.

There had just been so many of them - Scarlet scythe’s crackling with arcane energy, and corrupted magic churning in the air like a turbulent storm. Then again, when it came to Venatori, there always seemed to be a limitless supply.

Rook breathed in deep as she strode through the Vi’revas - the eluvian unique to the Dreadwolf’s hideaway in the Fade - close on Emmrich’s heels. One moment they were in the Crossroads, wild and untethered to reality as it was. The next, they were striding into the cool, dark nethers of the Lighthouse.

“Ugh,” Davrin grumbled, reaching to pull something that looked suspiciously like viscera from his hair as he strode through the eluvian’s surface in the pair of necromancers' wakes, “I’m going to go wash up. See you two at dinner?”

Rook smirked bemusedly - of all of the blood the Gray Warden was soaked through with, Maker forbid a bit of viscera get in the handsome elf’s hair. She nearly went to nod, when Emmrich spun on his heels to face the pair of them.

“Actually,” the Professor poised, hands clasping before him as his bangles glimmered in the unnatural light of the corridor, “Would you be so kind as to let Lucanis know to be expecting two less settings at the table this evening? Rook and I will be dining in Navarra.”

Rook’s eyebrows rose curiously - this was news to her.

“Yeah, no problem,” Davrin grinned. He gestured a hand over one shoulder as he made for the door, “You kids have fun.”

Kids . The word lingered humorously in the air - Emmrich barely stifled a chuckle at it, even in the gray warden’s absence.

“A trip home is a nice surprise,” Rook mused, mischief and curiosity a glint in her eyes.

The senior necromancer, dashing as ever, offered her an arm, and she was quick to place a hand at his elbow as he guided them from the room, and up the stairs.

“Forgive me, darling, I had hoped to ask you properly once we were settled in,” Emmrich said, gloved hand resting warmly upon the slender hand she’d offered him, “Reservations at the Pnemoix are scarce at best this time of year, and I received word of an opening just prior to our departure to Arlathan.”

“Yeah, that got chaotic rather quickly,” Rook admitted, ever as tired, but relieved they were alive to tell the tale at all. For all of her raised hackles that needled up her spine over the ambush in the woods, a tickle of excitement wiggled its way into her belly, “And I’ve heard of the Pnemoix!” Her sudden excitement was palpable. Word amongst her peers back at the Necropolis had it that the Pnemoix was one of the most exclusive- and enchanting - dining experiences in all of Navarra City. It was not far from the city’s main entrance to the Grand Necropolis itself, in fact. Emmrich could scarcely stifle the humorous glimmer in his eyes as the bounce in her step hastened as they strode. He finally slipped a chuckle when her expression then screwed with uncertainty, “Aren’t they ridiculously expensive, though?”

“Hardly any concern of yours, my darling,” Emmrich laughed.

Cresting the top of the stairs that overlooked the Lighthouse’s eerie library, the Professor stopped before the long hall that led to his study. Rook watched curiously as something shifted in his demeanor - warm laughter settling into something warmer still, slender hands and their menagerie of golden rings gracing her arms with an almost reverential care.

“I had hoped, should the temptation arise,” Rook felt a wildfire blush ignite to the tips of her ears at his sudden unusually intimate word choice, before he’d so much as finished his sentence, “We may enjoy the privacy an overnight at home might afford us.”

Emmrich’s grin broadened at the blatant blush that flooded the young woman’s typically cocksure expression, a softness in his gaze despite the hint of mischief that lingered there, “You so scarcely find a moment alone in the Lighthouse, my love. You’ll forgive an old man his selfish desire for attention undivided.”

“I-I… of course,” Rook managed, despite her blush, a dizzying flutter in her chest and her tongue-tie of nerves.

“And the decision is entirely yours,” her breath caught in her throat as he pressed a kiss upon her forehead, one hand affectionately upon the back of her head, “But do consider it, darling, hmm?” He seemed absolutely tickled at Rook’s uncharacteristic shyness as she nodded, green eyes alight with racing thoughts. This was hardly a woman prone to speechlessness, after all. “I’m going to change, and request Neve look after Manfred until we return. Meet me at the Vi’Revas when you’re ready.”

Rook managed a nod before Emmrich swept off airily, stride as confident as ever.

——————-

“Okay… Oookay,” Rook finally managed to breathe again once the ancient chamber doors of her quarters sealed shut behind her. Gaze darting around the dancing light of the aquarium that dominated the far wall, she huffed a ragged sigh, palm to her forehead.

Embarrassment immediately flooded her veins.

“He finally brings it up and you… freeze? Seriously?” She groaned morosely.

At best, Rook was disappointed. It was hardly how she’d imagined reacting to such an opportunity, after all. The Rook of her imagination was unflappable in her confidence - *she* surely would have managed an air of alluring …. *Something* in response to such a proposition. A wicked flirt. A lingering kiss. A clever quip of any make or model at all.

But no. Only overwhelm. Rook had been flooded with a timidness utterly foreign to her usually fearless brogue.

Scythe-wielding Venatori, raging demons, blighted gods… Such larger than life dangers too surreal and too vast to seem anything shy of absurd? That she could handle with a finesse and fearlessness that defied logic. It was precisely why Varric had brought her into the fold in the fight against Fen’Harel to begin with.

“But actually have the fellow you’ve been pining over for the last decade make a pass at you, and your brain breaks ? Maferath’s balls.”

The sordid swear she’d picked up from Varric early in their journeys together at least managed a smile from the woman. She shoved off from the door, kicking off muddied boots and unbuckling the patina’d gloves of her Mourn Watcher gauntlets as she went.

Rook had had little choice but to be honest with the Professor once her shoot-for-the-moon flirtations had, to her own genuine surprise, actually succeeded in swaying his interest so many weeks prior.

This was all… very new to the junior Mourn Watcher. So much of her time growing up had been spent clawing desperately for a sense of self. For the sort of identity that a complete lack of kith, kin or clan denied her for the whole of recent memory. Certainly until one Varric Tethras had swaggered his way into her life and corralled her under his wing.

Something as complicated as dating just never found its foothold with her focus, amid so many years of simply trying to find herself.

She was an elf in a largely human community, a non magic user - despite her endless fascination with the craft - in a society that prized its mages above all. Both facts of which pushed many of her superiors throughout her collegiate studies to blow off and even mock her ambitions towards more magic-focused areas of study.

Rook was an academic at heart - A voracious learner and reader. But for all of her passion, she was still very much an outsider. She was the foundling discovered abandoned deep within the Necropolis - lucky to have been found alive at all - Taken in by a kind and doting pair of elderly Mortalitasi, Gunter and Eloise Ingellvar, who had even gone as far as bequeathing their inheritance to her upon the last of their dual deaths some years later.

But they had gone too soon - Rook had barely been 12 when the old woman had died - and she was once again left as a ward of the Necropolis and its Watchers, who seemed to see less value in an orphaned elf with no magical talents to speak of. Frequently outright denied access to her preferred areas of study due to their prized and limited availability (such courses should be reserved for mages who might make the most use of them after all, and the university’s donors were rife with promising young mages as heirs) she was relegated, instead, to training as a fighter. A protector. A watcher of the Watchers themselves.

Just one extra corpse between demons and the ones whose work actually matters, more like, she thought. She swung open her ornate wardrobe, eyes scanning her limited choice in clothing critically as her thoughts poured from one memory to the next.

Those days were rife with turmoil. Rook had volleyed equally between hours of grueling fight and defense training, classes in basic sciences, necromancy, anatomy, funerary preparations and the Fade, and time dedicated purely to stirring up shit in the streets of Navarra City.

Fights. Petty theft. Stirring up chaos in the market square with a prank or three - one of which had, to her own amusement and pride to that very day, saw a surprisingly large number of bees in a leading role.

Throughout her years of collegiate learning, Rook carried the rage of a clever mind stifled and of dreams dashed, and it had landed her under the threadbare patience and steely gaze of the headmaster more times than she could count. That the Mourn Watch had been tasked with her care as much as her training was likely the only reason she hadn’t been thrown out for good.

It also hadn’t hurt that Rook had proven incredibly adept at combat despite her general lack of interest in the task (outside of a good tavern fistfight, at least.) There was also the curiosity that was her study habits. Her grades in basic courses were passable at best from sheer lack of interest, yet when time and little pockets of determination allowed, she could be found holed up in the Necropolis’s expansive library for hours, even days on end, pouring over every tomb her low-level clearance would allow, creating many tombs further of dense, meticulously detailed notes.

She was at least trying, in her own way, her superiors knew. And where their interest in her full potential failed her, her own thirst for learning minded the gap. Even if she was denied the chance to pursue her major of choice… lectures in the Grand Necropolis’s halls of learning were as free and frequent as the availability and seating of its various expansive lecture halls would allow.

Those educational sermons were hardly for the faint of heart or feeble of mind. They required many dedicated hours, copious notes, and a level of existing understanding of necromancy, the occult and Navarran history as a whole that *should* have been enough to bar a student of Rook’s study tract access by sheer lack of access to advanced classes alone.

But Rook had done the work. Had soaked up every scrap and parcel of knowledge she could, entirely on her own. And in each and every lecture, perched dutifully in the shadows at the back of the room, she soared.

Which was precisely where the good Professor had graced her peripherals, time and time again.

Even nearly a decade prior, Professor Emmrich Volkarin was something of a legend on campus. Prodigiously intelligent and equally skilled in both oration and genuine fondness for the eager young minds he fostered, Rook was hardly immune from the childish swooning over the otherwise utterly unattainable genius that captivated his students with every speech and demonstration.

“Volkarin’s hangers-on.”

Johanna Hezenkoss’s recent jeer at Rook’s expense still made her cheeks run hot. Rook had never been that - certainly not as the insult Hezenkoss intended.

But Rook and Emmrich were both well aware of whom the half-Litch referred to.

Hair a little darker and warm eyes a little bit brighter then, The Professor was too clever and adept at reading people around him to have remained oblivious to the fact that not only were the large majority of doe-eyed students trailing him from office to lectern and back largely of the female variety, but they were also almost always a bit more coy than was comfortable to be sharing a room with for too long. It was always impressive, then, to Rook, just how coolly and kindly said attentions were quite unanimously blown off by Emmrich himself.

He was never once cruel or condescending, but ever the consummate professional. He paid his students’ motivations no mind outside of whatever question he was fielding, or what knowledge he wished to impart, either.

Rook later overheard whispers among a gaggle of gossiping young mages in the privy that, apparently, “half of the fun” of flirting with the man to begin with was trying to “find a crack” in their charming yet unflappably stoic Professor’s perfectly tailored facade.

Of which there was nary a one, as far as Rook knew at the time. The man simply did not budge.

Which was why, despite never having had the stones to so much as approach Professor Volkarin with a question before meeting with him in the catacombs with Bellara months prior, and with nearly ten years of confidence that only incredibly hard work and some life experience could provide, Rook was genuinely floored when her own good-humored and (mostly) unserious swings at flirting with the man *actually worked.*

Rook had only dared shoot her shot with the man with the full confidence that in all likelihood (and at absolute worst) he would simply glance past the attention with his usual jovial kindness. She took a swing at it for younger-Rook, who would have thought it the coolest thing ever, future-Rook finding the sort of confidence her younger self found so foreign.

And the man actually expressed interest. Just fully (warmly as ever but with a degree of coyness Rook had no idea actually existed prior) stated that if, in fact, her projected interest went beyond mere flattery… he was down.

“Hell of a bullseye on the first draw, there, Ingellvar,” she had mused to herself and inevitably shared with Emmrich multiple times since, much to the Professor’s amusement.

Rook pulled the only pretty, non-Mourn Watch related article of clothing she owned - a deep purple gown and its immaculately tailored overcoat - from the wardrobe, before clipping the doors shut with her heel.

Naive shock aside, it wasn’t as though Rook hadn’t been equally delighted by Emmrich’s unexpected response. She had become even more enamored with the fellow in the past many months, as he spoke with her not as a student but as a colleague. An equal.

He adored her thoughts and her intellectual curiosity, and had said as much - often. He was ever the academic, as enthusiastic about answering any question she had as she was to learn the answer. But he was also genuinely interested in all of the knowledge she had gathered in the past ten years - Her interests in Navarran archeology within the ever-ancient Necropolis halls. His in Necromancy and the Fade. It had become a frequent, deeply adored line of conversation between the two of them, in fact - just how often their individual fields of study crossed in application.

Emmrich Volkarin was every bit as charming as his passionate yet professional demeanor would imply. But what Rook came to learn very quickly upon reconnecting with the man was that, on a personal level, he was one of the most compassionate individuals Rook had ever met. He cared deeply, about everything - particularly, it seemed, about the ragtag troop of adventurers she and Neve had since managed to assemble. At 52 years of age, he also, as it turned out, had zero qualms about dating someone - regardless of gender persuasion - over 20 years his junior. He’d simply taken his work as an educator far too seriously when he was young enough to find any interest in university students, let alone misuse the power dynamic between teacher and pupil - and they had, decades later, well since lost their appeal.

So, now, here she was. Two months into the most absurdly romantic courtship she could imagine, given the sheer chaos that surrounded them otherwise.

Fancy dinners. Time spent exploring the Necropolis to feel more grounded - that little bit of home going a long way to keeping them both fixed on the battles that just kept on coming. A recent night stroll through the streets of Navarra City during the ancestral pageants, their darkly artful city glistening with lanterns and wisps.

Emmrich Volkarin was ever a man of his word, too. Early on, when a bashful Rook mentioned her lack of experience in any such relationship, he had promised they’d take things slow, and they absolutely had. Endeared and warm as they were, his kisses were chaste, and his presence around her respectful of her space and autonomy. It had only been since she had started pushing boundaries that he had reciprocated in kind.

Longer, deeper kisses. Tousled hair. Hands wandering with far more bravery - and far more urgency - from both parties, amidst long nights full of even longer conversations.

The cracks in Emmrich Volkarin’s perfectly tailored facade were showing. And, Rook grinned to herself despite the blush reaching her ears, they were admittedly * delicious.*

Rook fastened the copper skull-shaped buttons upon her overcoat before fishing for Varric’s shaving mirror and checking her hair.

She wasn’t entirely sure how she’d expected the acceleration of their relationship to go. Perhaps more spontaneously, and likely in the Lighthouse, despite neither of them having particularly comfortable quarters - his with little more than a cot to sleep on that was otherwise hidden away, and her own space often as chilly as being overlooked by an enormous deep water aquarium would imply.

She certainly didn’t expect it to turn into a Pnemoix-worthy event.

It was, frankly, the first time Emmrich had taken the lead on the direction of relations between them. He had planned every romantic gesture their messy schedules and frequent travels would allow, sure, but every acceleration where intimacy had been concerned had been entirely on Rook.

But, it felt right, the timing.

She wondered if this was his way of saying he felt the same.

Rook slipped on a pair of gold-rimmed glasses (her vision never had been the best, but she’d only just taken to wearing them more faithfully at Emmrich’s encouragement, and insistence that he thought them, “Positively charming.”)

With a flutter of excitement in her chest Rook spared a careless hope that she might make it all the way downstairs to the Vi’Revas without any of their friends asking enough questions to rattle her nerves anymore than they already squirmed.

——————-

The journey was quick and blessedly uninterrupted. Punctual as ever, Emmrich had already arrived. He turned to greet her as she strode his way, having been surveying the towering Eluvian with an air of curiosity just moments before.

Lean and immaculately dapper as ever, golden rings and bangles over luxurious shades of black and jade, a smile swept his features so genuine that it stole a smile from her own.

“Rook,” he mused warmly, “You look exquisite.”

“Could very well say the same to you, Professor,” Rook teased, hand once again gracing the elbow he lent her.

“Shall we?”

[hyunsvngs]

READ PART 1 FIRST!

continue straight ahead

It had been so dark for so long. But over there, if you strayed from the path just a little, there was a break in the canopy of trees above. Rays of gold filtered through the leaves, and something deep within your chest told you not to leave the path, whatsoever. But it was oh-so-enticing, the thought of stepping into that light and perhaps even feeling just a little bit of warmth spill onto your skin…

Your legs were moving before you could stop them. With each step, your surroundings transform. The black and grey shadows gave way to hues of pink and purple. How could this be possible, so deep in the forest? Your will to question this wasn't quite strong enough. You felt so light, so floaty, so warm.

There was a ring of mushrooms, outlining the clearing, red and white. It may have been a trick of the light, but you could've sworn they sparkled. You stepped over them, into the light.

"Hello, darling."

A man? No. No man was this beautiful. A creature, an angel. A fairy?

He was lounging on a large, flat rock, glowing beneath the sunlight. His feet were bare, toes curling. His legs were slender and ever so long, poking out from beneath a brown, suede-looking skirt. His blouse was white and worn, unbuttoned halfway down his smooth, hairless chest. He was toying with a violet, the petals so bright they hurt your eyes. The further up his body your eyes travelled, the more intoxicated you felt. His features were sharp, all angles and lines, yet there was a softness to him. His cheeks were as rosy as his lips, his eyelashes longer than you'd ever seen before. His ears were pointed where they poked out of his long, blonde hair, cascading down past his shoulders and intertwined with flowers. 

"Who are you?"

He simply smiled. "How did you get here?"

You tried to think backwards, but your memory was getting hazy. "I… I don't know. I just woke up here. In the forest."

The fairy chuckled lazily. "That might be my doing, love." 

Your eyebrows furrowed. It was like you had to fight twice as hard just to think. "What, you brought me here?" 

He shrugged. "Maybe. What does it matter? Come over here." 

At his words, you felt a tug deep in your abdomen, as though he'd hooked an invisible scythe to you and was pulling. 

"What if I don't want to?" you asked, though your own words startled you. Where did they come from? Of course you wanted to get closer to him.

He laughed, bigger this time, his smile meeting his eyes. "Oh, don't be silly. Come."

You didn't register yourself moving, but suddenly you were in front of him. You loomed above him, as he lay on the rock, though you still felt utterly powerless.

"What can I call you?" you asked, then felt silly for asking. 

"Hyunjin," he said. It sounded like his first time speaking the name. "You can call me Hyunjin."

"Have you hypnotised me, Hyunjin?"

He raised his hand, his index finger landing on your lips. "Shhh. Look up at the sky, my darling."

You ignored the electric tingle in your lips, and followed his direction, reluctantly tearing your gaze from him and tilting your head up. Through the trees, with their rose and peach-coloured leaves, you saw. 

"Purple. It's - the sky is purple." 

"That's right, sweetheart, well done." You could hear the smile in his voice as he praised you, and you didn't dare look at him in fear you'd fall deeper. "And the clouds?"

"So pink," you murmured.

"Do you want to feel the way those clouds feel?" He had dropped the violet he'd been twirling between his fingers, his hands laying to rest on your waist instead. 

There was nothing you could do but nod.

"Then come here, my sweetheart. Let me help you get there." 

He spun you around, and you were sitting between his legs on the rock. It didn't feel hard beneath you, somehow. It was like sitting on a cloud. Hyunjin's hands moved from your waist, his fingertips sliding under your shirt and dancing across your tummy.

"How do you feel?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his breath tickling your ear. 

It was difficult for you to check in with how you felt; your mind and body felt so disconnected. Not in a bad way, not at all. You just felt… far away. "Light. I feel light."

"I can make you feel better than you've ever felt before. Would you like me to do that?"

You didn't even need to think about the answer. You needed it. "Yes please, Hyunjin."

All of a sudden, your shirt was coming off and your bare back was pressed up against Hyunjin's chest, soft but firm. The air was warm on your skin, and you didn't know if the flowery, powdery scent was coming from Hyunjin or the flora around you, but you were enamoured with it. 

His hands made you feel tiny. You looked down and watched as they cupped your breasts, squeezing them. He found your nipples and pinched them, rolling them between his fingertips. It sent shockwaves throughout your entire body, and you could barely breathe. You choked at the feeling, feeling as though your chest were collapsing - it was more than you could ever possibly handle. The tingling sensation was so warm, stronger than a thousand orgasms and all he was doing was tweaking your nipples.

"Breathe, darling," he urged you. "In and out." 

You steadied your breathing, grounding yourself, focusing in on the pleasure bursting from within you. "What are you?" you panted.

"I'm yours. That's all you need to worry about."

Hyunjin dipped his head, his nose bumping against the skin below your ear. It traced a line downwards, right into the sweet spot where your neck ended and your shoulder began. He kissed you, making you moan out loud with just his plump, pink lips. 

His fingertips made their way down your torso, tickling your tummy and passing over your hip bones. When did you become naked? you wondered. In all honesty, you didn't really care. Hyunjin's fingers were dancing across your pubic bone, then reaching between your thighs, spreading them. You hooked them over his own legs, fully spread for him. 

"Oh, look at you," he whispered, chin on your shoulder. He spread your pussy lips, exploring what you had to offer. 

"Am I pretty?" you asked, heart racing.

"Prettier than every flower I've ever seen," he agreed.

He plunged two of his slender fingers inside your pussy, and you writhed under his touch, throwing your head back against him. It was more intense than anything you'd ever felt before. You couldn't handle it, yet at the same time you wanted to stay here, feeling this way, for the rest of your life.

"How are you doing this?" you whined, your body thrashing with each pump of his fingers. He was playing with your g-spot so accurately that the pleasure almost hurt. It was beyond overwhelming. Nobody had ever made you feel like this before.

Hyunjin only laughed in response, kissing your neck again. "Are you enjoying it?"

"Y- Oh, fuck, yeah," you stammered. The pleasure was so immense that it felt like one ongoing orgasm. When did you start cumming? you wondered. And when would you stop?

"Do you want more?" There was a mischievous lilt to Hyunjin's voice. 

"Are you gonna fuck me?" you asked, equal parts terrified and excited. You could barely handle two fingers, how would you possibly tolerate his dick?

He picked you up effortlessly, laying you back on the flat bed of the stone. You watched as he unbuttoned his blouse (the last few buttons that were hanging on, at least) and unlaced his skirt. His skin almost sparkled in the sun, bright and dazzling. His pecs, his toned abdomen, his waist, his hips, his… his dick.

"What is that?" you asked, voice hoarse. You stared at it, wide-eyed. It was long, must have been twelve inches at the very least. The tip was pale pink, a broad mushroom bulging at the top of the shaft, with the prettiest little slit at the top. The shaft just went on and on, delicate lavender veins twirling around it, all the way down until it met his balls, hanging softly beneath. "It's beautiful."

"I know," Hyunjin said with a smile.

"I… I can't take that, Hyunjin. That's too big, I'm… I don't know who you've fucked before, but I'm just a human. It's too much for me." 

Hyunjin ignored your slightly panicked babbling, hovering over you where you lay. His long blonde hair fell into your face, tickling you. "Look into my eyes." 

You did so. They were black, at first glance. Until pale lilac streaked through the pools, softening them. Rosy pink tones joined the mix, marbling the colours. You felt immediately calmer, pure relaxation flooding your system.

"Three…" You felt Hyunjin spread your legs. You didn't look away from his eyes.

"Two…" You felt him bumping at the entrance to your pussy. He lay his forehead against yours, and all you could see were the swirling colours. Hyunjin disappeared, the forest disappeared. 

"One." 

The feeling was back - you were cumming again. His dick was inside you - how far inside, you didn't know. It could've been a single inch, for all you knew, or it could've been the whole thing. He could be gutting you with it this very second, tearing apart your insides, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. His dick was even more magical than his fingers. 

"Does that feel okay?" he asked. At his words, he came back into frame - you could see again. His expression was so calm, not a single crease or line across his porcelain-perfect face. 

"Good - feels good," you said with a nod. "I - am I cumming? Have I been cumming this whole time?"

"Of course, darling."

"Are you inside me? All the way?" 

Hyunjin gave you another gentle smile. "Why don't you look?" He sat up, and his slender frame was no longer obscuring your view.

You had no idea what to say. He was inside you - to the fucking hilt. It didn't make sense, he shouldn't fit inside you so easily. There shouldn't be such a lack of resistance. Logic said that he should surely be perforating your cervix at this length. 

Logic? Logic was out of the window. You were laying on a stone, in a forest clearing, making love to the most beautiful being you'd ever seen. You were experiencing a continuous orgasm so strong that you could barely feel your body, yet at the same time you could feel it immensely. 

Hyunjin pulled his dick out of you, slowly, until just his mushroom tip was left inside. The shaft was dripping, coated in your cream. He thrusted back into you gently, further and further. You felt him deep inside you. He just kept sliding further, impossibly deeper. Your tummy bulged, and you could see the glow of his cockhead inside.

"I don't understand," you mewled, spit dribbling from the corner of your lips.

Hyunjin caressed your cheek. "Stop trying to understand. Just feel." 

You reached out to touch him, your hands exploring his skin. You touched his shoulders, so strong yet so soft, the muscles bulging beneath your hands. He felt like a cloud. You touched his face, his perfect pretty face, his expression remaining unchanged as you sobbed beneath him. How could he be so calm?

"Does-" you hiccuped. "Does it feel good for you? Hyunjin?"

"Yes, sweetheart." His voice was still, even as he was fucking you. "I don't do things that don't feel good."

You felt as though you were on top of the fucking world. You felt unstoppable, untouchable. You were making this man - this creature, this fairy - feel good. Your mind floated away from you. He hadn't lied; you felt just like the bright pink clouds in the sky.

"Do you love me, Hyunjin?" you asked, silly grin on your face. 

Hyunjin looked at you blankly. "In a way." 

He wiped your cheek with a single finger, following the tracks your tears had painted. "Your tears are so pretty." He lifted the finger to his lips, licking it. He threw his head back, closing his eyes tight, the first real display of pleasure you'd seen from him.

"Are - Are you gonna c-cum?" you asked, choking out each word. 

"Yes, my darling," he said, and you heard just a slight strain to his voice. "I'm going to cum." 

You gripped his biceps, steadying yourself. He looked deep into your eyes. Those gorgeous, ever-changing orbs disappeared from your view, the pinks and purples and blacks evaporating. His eyes were solid white, and held more emotion than you'd seen from the man so far. His eyebrows furrowed deeply. He was cumming.

You quickly realised that you hadn't been cumming this whole time - this was the peak. You felt his ethereal cock cum inside you, felt his seed spurt out of his slit and into your pussy. There was an impossible amount, flooding your body. It tingled, made your pussy throb in ways it never had before. Your entire body was on fire. 

"Thank you, love." He pulled out of you, and you whined at how empty you felt. You swore you'd feel empty until the day you died, if you never felt his cock again. 

His cum was spilling out of your pussy. You frowned, wanting to keep it all inside you, a memento of your time together; but your discontent couldn't last long. It was entrancing. His cum wasn't white but silver, and glowing. It was more like smoke than a man's seed, curling out of you and flying away.

"Don't worry, darling," he spoke with a smile. "There's some inside you, still. Deep inside." Could he read your mind? Had he been reading it this whole time?

"What happens now?" you asked, a sudden panic gripping your chest. "Will I see you again?"

Hyunjin grinned at you. His teeth looked sharp, pointed. You didn't blink, not even when your eyes burned. You couldn't look away for even a second, you had to absorb the sight of him. His glowing skin, his angular jaw, his now-white eyes. His pale blonde hair, cascading in waves down his back. 

He leaned in, and pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth. "Goodbye, love."

And with that, as suddenly as he appeared, he was gone.

[tenyrasims]

𝑽𝒆𝒚𝒍𝒆𝒏 ~ ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Cas time 🎶 ~ So ... in the meantime while i was away i decided to push the things im working on a bit further and I demolished Evergreen harbor and forgotten hollow. Made them to post-apocalyptic worlds where the citys got destroyed by creatures like Zombies, Vampires etc. Just very few humans survived, now living in communes or in small groups, trying to survive. There are also head&monster hunter who get paid for things like getting supplies, clean up areas or even kill people. Veylen is one of the Characters in this world, beside my latest Sims i made [Ash and also Selene]. Hes a solo guy who offers people in communes to do certain jobs for money or other things to survive ~ Hes a good figther and beside the most humans tend to use guns he thinks its more fun to use his scythe. The next characters i will create will be all for this world. okay, enough essay for today ♥

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Thanks to all awesome cc creators ♥ Hair by @thekunstwollen Nose Piercing by @maximoons - eyebrow piercing by @magic-bot Tattoo by @unidentifiedsim

Leather Jacket by @gorillax3-cc Jeans&Boots by @darte77 [Paid content] Lip scar - by @nell-le

Necklace - Eyes & earrings by @pralinesims Ring by @sclub-privee

Scythe by @nataliaauditore-blog animation & poses for the scythe by me ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[melodic-haze]

☆ — DEMO TRACK: sub!Arlecchino (GI) x dom!Reader

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: Pet play, using a hidden vibrator in public, reader with a cock/strap referred to as the former, ROUGH sex, spanking, a lot of painplay actually, blood cuz have you?? Seen her nails????? What the hell, overstimulation, dumbification 🫶

☆ — NOTES: I haven't actually played Genshin since the eternal Ayaka timer lol but anyway I got carried away I think LMAOOO I just have a huge thing for authority figures who are all subby for me 😞 I might do an aftercare continuation post idk

☆ — PARTS: Part 1 (you are here), Part 2, Part 3

I really need to put a collar on this woman and call her my personal attack dog

This tall, scary woman who wields a SCYTHE, this Harbinger slash one winged fallen angel with crosses for eyes, this person who people call 'Father'???? Imposing as hell, very much the type that you can't look at in the eyes or else you're probably marked for death next.......but who could EVER expect that all that would go off and crumble down at the mere sight of you with a collar on your hand, a smile on your face and the intent to reduce her into nothing but your personal little pet?

Intimidating? Oh, please. Maybe she'd cut everyone else, but she wouldn't dare do that to you! Not even when she has a vibrator stuffed in her pussy. What's she gonna do realistically, hurt you? Oh no no no she wouldn't dare do that, you've done nothing wrong, could NEVER do anything wrong so whyever would she do that to you?

You've always wondered how Arlecchino could ever balance on those shoes of hers, with the way her heels narrow down into practically nothing by the time its length reaches the ground.

It's an impressive feat, being able to balance on such technically impractical footwear.. especially when the wearer has a small vibrator stuffed in her cunt, controlled by none other than you and the equally small device resting in your pocket, ready for you to use when you felt like it.

And you did exactly that—as the Harbinger went to talk to some person about whatever it is (you never really cared about the current semantics), you dug into your pocket idly, innocently, even, but the both of you know full well that it was anything but.

Despite Arlecchino keeping a straight face, you know the effect was immediate; you could tell from the slight stumble and the quite-literal split-second glitch that you miss when you blink. Unfortunately for her, though, the third-party hadn't blinked so she's left to scramble for an excuse as you watch on nearby, utterly delighted.

Eventually you see her excuse herself early, making it appear as if whatever they were discussing didn't seem to work. And who would ever question Arlecchino, of all people?

You.

"Well, now," you begin with a raised eyebrow as you watched your approaching lover approach you with a surprising amount of grace, wondering how she's kept herself steady with those heels of hers, "I thought you were going to take longer. What happened?"

You see her eyes stare at you, the red crosses within them practically burning so bright it's as if you were so close that you could touch the sun and burn... Though instead of looking away like a normal person with a sense of self-preservation, you dared to flash her an innocent smile as if you were utterly clueless, but both of you knew VERY well that that was, simply put, pure and utter bullshit.

She licks her lips before answering, "I have.. rescheduled for the discussion to continue when his pr-- ..proposal has been polished to the standard I require. We can return to-- ..!"

Her breath hitches, and she moves on to sit down swiftly and cross her legs in a futile effort to keep the toy still within her, though that turns out to be a mistake as you increase the intensity even further. Her mouth practically drops open before she looks down and covers her mouth as she grabs onto your wrist, nails digging and causing you to wince, though it doesn't keep the smug look on your face from increasing.

You narrow your eyes, as if utterly unimpressed by her antics, as you speak only for your lover to hear, "Flaking on your responsibilities just for you to get some relief sooner rather than later? Okay, then." And she hears, sees you laugh, and you both know that she knows she's crossed you, "Let's go home."

The only thing your pet Harbinger could really do was nod.

She need need NEEDS to be treated roughly for her to feel things bc tbh she probably has a high FEELING threshold in general. And like she's insane but that's another thing

Pull on her collar, her leash. Actually no pull on her HAIR there's a reason why she has it in a low tail 🤨🤨 pull it use it to direct her where you want her and she'll do whatever it is you require for her to do

Please do absolutely spank her, put her in her place, urge her on. Pain is a great stimulant, and is a great teacher 🫶

Needs she NEEDS you to hold her up as you pound at her without stopping, vibrator still in her cunt and being pushed deeper into her over and over by your cock and she doesn't tell you to stop either bc she's telling you to give her more, please!!

This deadly woman is asking you, pleading you, begging you for you to absolutely ruin her!!! But nonono you can't let her have what she wants when she's been uncharacteristically not doing her job like she's meant to so you pull out of her and immediately turn off the toy inside her and she looks at you with such shock that it's so strange to see on this ever-so-composed-and-strict member of the Fatui. But at the end you don't really care as you start up the whole process again after waiting for long enough, even switching your positions and paces and everything

Once you deem it enough and that she's basically at her limit, you decide to grant her.. mercy. Fuck her until she cums and she cums HARD, her nails reducing the sheets into damaged tatters of fabric and leaving bloody claw marks and bites on your skin as she writhes and twitches and glitches violently (you'll take care of it later, you reckon, but right now do you really care?) before she settles down.......

But you don't stop. Nononono you don't stop not at all!! This IS what she wanted, right??? Being fucked so hard until she's all dumb and forgets everything she has to keep track of in that brain of hers, make her forget that she's supposed to be this scaryyy Harbinger who could kill you in the blink of an eye, reduce her into nothing but your obedient little puppy desperate for a powerless mortal, of all things. That has to be humiliating, it SHOULD be humiliating when she has all that power, but she doesn't care. Not now, not ever.

Not when it's you :33

[six-eyed-samurai]

This makes no sense and it was all created when I was supposed to be asleep, but roll with me now y'all:

Gyutaro as Scyther: he fights with scythes, green, weirdly stick-ish body and honestly Scyther kind looks like it's scowling all the time like him

Daki as Tsareena: Blurry photo aside, something similar about the socks and leg coloring, as well as the hair.

Akaza as Hitmonchan: I can't be the only one to see the fighting and stance similarities here can I?

Gyokko as Gyrados: Other than the fact they're both fishy, Magikarp and Gyokko are both kinda ugly with yellowish eyes (sorry), but their final form are really dragonlike.

Shinobu as Butterfree: It's a no brainer, they're both butterflies and the coloring scheme for the haori to the wings are kinda similar

Rengoku as Arcanine: Fire and fire, but I didn't go for Charmander here is because I can't put my finger on it exactly but there's something in both of their expressions: eyebrows and big dumb golden retriever smile, if you get it.

Urokodaki as Throh: This was purely off appearances...

Hantengu and Clones as Evee and Evolutions: Ignoring the...other Pokemon in the picture, this idea was given to me by my sister. Sekido as Jolteon, obviously, but I don't really know who for what else.

Nakime as Mawile: My love for both Nakime and Mawile aside, there's just something about the hair connotations and colors that made me link these two although Mawile has two eyes.

Kaigaku as Pikachu: Electricty and the black markings, plus their names have some sort of rhyme to them...

Aoi as Gothorita: No joke, the twintails were what made me think of it

Mitsuri as Diancie: She is a legendary and that's that. Also the crystal things poking out kinda look like Mitsuri's braids.

Obanai as Seviper: Why not Arbok because it's closer to his color scheme and because of the knife at the tail

Well that's all I could come up with. I might do a Part II if I can think of anymore. If y'all have any ideas I'll be interested to know!

[akashis-waifu]

Excerpt from "Switch"

Chapter 3 of Beyond God and Evil (Aizen Sōsuke/Female Reader)

Canon-divergence set months after TBYW. Reader is the new Soul King, so is Aizen if you squint hard enough.

Tags: Romantic comedy, fluff and angst, enemies to old married couple, banter as love language, mutual pining, immortality, slow burn, political intrigue

“SO, why did you want to meet us?”

You ask with thinly veiled annoyance, facing forward and refusing to look at the man you’re addressing.

You are currently inside an underground establishment: a sacred hall that cannot be located in any map. In ancient times, it was where the leaders of the Five Great Noble Clans gathered to discuss matters of importance to Soul Society.

Seated on the head of the pentagonal table is Tsunayashiro Tokinada, and across him are Kuchiki Byakuya and Shihouin Yoruichi, occupying the chairs farthest from him. With you arriving last — mainly due to your reluctance to see the distasteful visage of your enemy — you are left with no other choice but to take the seat adjacent to the host. 

Reveling in your murderous aura, Tokinada nonchalantly waves a hand and answers with a pompous grin. “Ah, just simple courtesies. As someone who was recently promoted, I thought it would only be proper of me to introduce myself as the new leader of the Four Great Noble Families.”

“But, before we cut to the chase,” he suddenly adds and turns to you. “May I ask where you have been for the past six months, Lady Hirasaka?”

“That’s none of your business.”

Unperturbed by your cold response, Tokinada continues. “You see, as the overseeing personnel of the Visual Department, it bothered me when I learned that the head of the Hirasaka could not be found in Seireitei. Thus, out of concern, I had some of my retainers search for you in Rukongai, the Living World, and even in Hueco Mundo. But you were nowhere to be found.”

“Concern,” you repeat while holding back a scoff. “I'm surprised that you are capable of such emotion, Lord Tsunayashiro.”

“Oh, believe me when I say I do! You are, after all, the favorite underclassman of my late wife.”

At the mention of Kakyo, you feel your blood boil, and the urge to evaporate the man on the spot almost overwhelms you. Aware that further engaging in conversations with him will lead you to committing murder, you will yourself to remain silent.

Meanwhile, Tokinada is impressed that you did not take the bait. Still, he perseveres in his mission of destroying your composure.

“Since you were nowhere to be found, I could only assume one place where you could have gone to. Somewhere not easily accessible — a place that is out of jurisdiction even for the Great Noble Families.”

You raise an eyebrow at his cryptic words. 

“You were in Muken! Yes, that could only explain it!” 

Tokinada claps in exaggerated eureka. “I mean, you were Aizen's personal bedwarmer, right? You must have been dying to shag him.”

Your vision must have blackened from unadulterated anger because the next thing you know, you already have your Inherited Zanpakuto released, the large scythe now hanging above his head.

“Do you want to die, Tsunayashiro Tokinada?”

[seireitonin]

More facts about Sebastia (OC/ False Miracles(Creepypasta comic au) :3

The black on her limbs isn’t just for show, if she has to fight hand to hand, Miracle seeps through her skin making a hard un breakable barrier on her legs and arms where the black part is (also her arms can just turn into two giant miracle mouths)

It looks kinda crystallized and gooey

Sebastia hates it, thinks it’s gross

Speaking of fighting: Sebastia is HORRIBLE fighting melee/ hand to hand

Miracle is what makes her strong/ able to fight

So if Miracle somehow got hurt or was unable to help Sebastia, she’d be kinda screwed

While Sebastia can use guns(kind of) and her scythe-whip she’s just not super good at fighting

In her defense she was just a normal woman before

And because she has Miracle coming out of her head and basically fighting for her, she didn’t feel the need to learn and didn’t know how to even start learning

Now that she’s with all the other Creepypastas she’s learning and slowly getting better

She often spars with Eyeless Jack since they’re both about on the same level of strength and can take each others hits

Sometimes Toby because he can’t feel pain but this is rare. Toby doesn’t have a monster in his body helping him after all

She also spars with Jane. Jane has healing abilities, super strength and speed, making her a very good sparring partner since she can give and take hits

Sebastia often is the one leaving with the scrapes and bruises, but since Miracle helps her heal quickly they’re gone within the next 2 hours

Sebastia and Miracle, despite sharing Sebastias body are not in sync

Sebastia is often manipulated by Miracle as Miracle uses her anxious and weary personality against her making Sebastia act out of character

Miracle can make Sebastia get violent, rude, mean, impulsive, aggressive etc all with its words that that it says in her head, manipulating her

Sebastia doesn’t understand why Miracle does this. She doesn’t know if it’s trying to protect her in its own weird way or break her mind so it can take Sebastias body over completely

Sebastia often has to hold Miracle back from killing people, sometimes begging it not to hurt people that Sebastia doesn’t think deserve to be hurt so sometimes Sebastia holds back in fights

This happens inconsistently, sometimes Miracle is co operative sometimes it feels like it’s actively working against her by manipulating her into doing things

There’s no limit to how far Miracle can stretch or bend and Miracles mouths can grow and shrink.

There’s no limit to how many mouths/ tendrils can come out of Sebastias head

Sebastia doesn’t like showing much skin (due to trauma) so she’ll often be in jeans or leggings along with shirts that show little to no cleavage

She’s trying to slowly get out of that so when it’s hot you might see her in shorts and an off the shoulder short sleeve shirt

She’s still not ready to wear skirts, crop tops, or tank tops or things like that, though

Since her hair is long and to her waist, when she’s relaxing, she’ll tie it in a bun or ponytail along with Bobby pins to keep her emo fringe out of her face

Her hair is black so she’ll often put some cute hair clips in it, nothing too bold though

She also wants to get back into dying her hair

Since Miracle heals hear body from wounds fast, Sebastia plans on getting a bunch of piercings from Nina

Sebastia already has snakebites, nostrils and a septum piercing, but she wants her cheeks pierced, her eyebrows and Dalias

Depending on what form she’s in, Sebastia can be animalistic almost

The form with the red eyes she still has control, so not really animalistic

The form with the white eyes she’s pretty animalistic, not really talking and making grunts and noises

There’s a form she refuses to go into where her skin is all black and mouths grow all over her body along with white eyes, she’s just completely animalistic there, literally running on all fours and growling. She doesn’t go into this form because she doesn’t know if she can come back out of it

Sebastia smokes weed to relax since she’s always so stressed and anxious. Weed for some reason also makes Miracle silent. Sebastia has no idea why this happens

Sebastia bites her nails often but is trying to stop

Sebastia doesn’t hate men she’s just scared of them and feels the need to prove that she’s strong so men don’t take advantage of her again (she’s traumatized from the months in the lab)

If Miracle wants to talk to someone besides Sebastia it will come out of her head and do so

Sebastia sounds like Makoto from Persona 5, but not as calm and collected. More anxious, weary and cautious

Although Sebastia is naturally kinda goofy you have to know her for a long time for her to see that side of her

Sebastia tries to be semi serious or at least put on a front especially when she’s fighting

Outside of battle, she’s kind or at least tries to match peoples energy

Shes insecure about smelling bad / weird because when miracle causes her to bleed from the head, she’s scared it smells weird so after fighting, she showers

Learned the hard way dried blood is hard to get off of skin and out of hair

That’s all I got 4 now :3

Inaccurate bc her hands are supposed to be black and she’s missing some piercings but I love her. Stupid emo

More info here ^ :3

[us3rnam3-r3dact3d]

hiii

u know that drawing u posted of david and darlin in their uniforms w the axes, first of all im still drooling over it

but also what's the meaning behind their tattoos? im especially interested in the snake 👁👁

-🦀

Crab anon!! I’ve missed you!!!

So I’m actually so passionate about Darlin’s tattoos. That’s why their face tattoos made an appearance in the text of the story. The face tattoos are designed to be shitty, scratcher tattoos and for those that aren’t familiar with the term, it refers to tattoos done by unskilled or unliscenced artists. They tend to go too deep into the skin and blow out, go too light and fade quickly, and get infected because of the poor hygienic practices that comes along with not working in a sterile environment.

This is slightly older art of them, and the tattoos have changed a bit, but it works for this demonstration. For the tattoos that Quinn put there, there are three X’s under their left eye, a Q in their right Dimple, and the word “PRECIOUS” over their right eyebrow. In my heart, they have 0903 on their left temple, which they got a week after Gabe died. The scythe and snake on their cheek would come later on. Those are more statistic choices than meaningful ones, but they do like the morbid vibes of having a scythe over Gabe’s death date.

As for the sleeve!! I actually have much better art of it. I sketched out firefighter Darlin and hated every part of it EXCEPT their sleeve. It was my second pass at Darlin’s tattoos and I just love the way that the tattoos came out with the sketch brush I use.

So!! Then burning house!! It’s funny to them as a firefighter to have a burning house tattoo. Just a lil joke for themself. It’s also…. Look have you ever heard that quote “if you grow up with an angry man in your house there will always be an angry man in your house?” That is the vibe they were trying to cultivate with it. They feel like they grew up in a burning house and now they keep running into fires.

The pomegranate!! It didn’t make an appearance in the firefighter uniform drawing, just since it was a less detailed one, but I love it in this one. I like a pomegranate as a nod to Darlin’s canon universe themes. Just… the imagery of pomegranates representing hedonistic pleasure and consumption??? And the ties to Persephone, the Greek goddess of spring who is married to married to Hades, the King of the Underworld. I like the vibes of a dance with death, both tying to their relationships with vampires and their recklessness, which is present in both canon and the au.

I’m gonna be so real with you Crab Anon… the snake was just because it looks cool. I like the idea that the snake being a venomous species native to Washington, sort of like Darlin themself. You can’t see it in this drawing, but the tongue of the spider is wrapped around their middle finger. Despite having a lot of face tattoos, that was their most painful one, getting tattooed in the finger webbing.

This sketch was the origin of the “ALL YOU HAVE IS YOUR FIRE” tattoo I gave to Damien in that one shot I wrote. I think the vibes are great for FFAU Darlin.

Also!! As a note!!! Darlin has knuckle tattoos! They spell “GOOD LUCK.” That was actually Asher’s idea.

So yeah!! There’s all of the meanings!!

[1800titz]

SHIBARI MAN — NOW UP ON PATREON

The meet-ugly one where Harry runs beginner shibari courses and Y/N discovers that she's a rope bunny (enemies-to-lovers-ish)

preview

It’s him. Saguaro, with the frames and the eyes like beds of flinty malachite. 

He’s holding a furled, plaited cord, the head of the class, and he pauses, blinking up. Briefly. He clears his throat—

”—Jute, on the other hand, has great knot stability. You can see here, the braided texture— that makes it less slippery.”

Compunction crinkles the valley of skin between her eyebrows as she trudges in alongside Niall — he’s much more amicable about it, mouthing apologies and raising his hand in friendly hello’s that don’t receive much beyond awkwardly indifferent glances. They sink to their knees toward the back, which isn’t all that far from the front, all things considered. It’s a small class. The wood burrows into her tailbone — were the yoga mats a complementary notion? Was she supposed to bring a yoga mat?

“It’s great for floor bondage, but it’s water sensitive. So if you want to work it into suspension, don’t wash it too often. Otherwise, you’re losing carrying capacity.”

The city of New York is a metaphorical hayrick. It’s a paradox, since the big apple is the furthest thing from watery mud, fir-constructed barns, and scythes sweeping through crops. 

Theoretically, though, Y/N should have never seen this man again. 

He should have become swept into the mound of straw — got lost in it. Mortification strums at her muscles, tensing every sinew. It scars deep— scrapes at her cartilage. If she’d known this needle would prick her thumb again, maybe she wouldn’t have waged war for the seat on the subway. 

And yet, here he is.