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criticallyinneedofadar · 3 months ago

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Alliance of Shadows (8)

A/N: Come on now. You know I could never harm my hubby.

Pairing: Adar x Reader

Warnings: Violence, wounds, reader gets injured.

Word Count: 2.5k

Taglist: @zoya-olenko @annatartastic @oakenshielq @perse-cora @passionofthesith @eowyn7023

Previous- Next

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Without thinking, you move.

Your body surges forward, driven by instinct rather than reason, and before you know it, you are between Adar and the treacherous Uruk. The world seems to freeze in that moment, the chaos of the battlefield dimming as the sharp, cold steel of Glûg’s blade bites deep into your side. Agony flares through your body, every nerve screaming in pain. A gasp tears from your throat, the sound lost in the cacophony around you, and you stumble, your hand flying to the wound as warm blood spills over your fingers.

Adar spins, eyes wide, his usual composed expression crumbling into shock. You see the disbelief in his gaze, the fury flickering just beneath the surface, but before you can fully register it, his arms are around you, catching you just before you collapse to the ground. His hands grip you tightly, pulling you close as he lowers you gently, the cool earth meeting your back. He presses his hand against your side, desperate to stem the flow of blood, but you can feel it—hot, thick, and unrelenting.

“You fool,” Adar growls, though his voice is thick with emotion, far deeper than anger. His hands, always steady, tremble ever so slightly as they press against your wound, trying to keep you tethered to life. “Why would you do that? Why?”

Your vision blurs, the edges of the world fading in and out as pain clouds your senses. You want to respond, to tell him that you didn’t think, that protecting him was the only thing that mattered in that moment, but the words die in your throat, smothered by the agony coursing through your veins.

Before either of you can speak, Sauron’s voice cuts through the moment like a dagger, his tone dripping with malice. “Your children no longer need you as their father, Adar,” he sneers, his dark gaze shifting to Glûg and the small group of Uruks who had broken away from the main force. They stand behind him now, weapons in hand, their loyalty clearly pledged to Sauron.

Glûg sneers, his eyes filled with something colder than hatred—something akin to betrayal. “We are no longer slaves to your cause, Father. Sauron will provide what you cannot.”

The words sting, sharper than any blade. You lie cradled in Adar’s arms, your vision swimming with pain, but the bitter taste of betrayal rises in your throat. These Uruks… You had fought for them, bled for them. You had defended them time and time again, and yet, here they stood—turning their backs on the one who had given them purpose, who had fought for their very right to exist.

Adar’s grip tightens on you, his body tensing as he stares down Glûg, the rage simmering in his dark eyes. “Traitors,” he spits, his voice low and venomous. “Sauron will use you as bodies to build his throne. Nothing more.”

Glûg’s sneer only deepens, and for a brief moment, the battlefield stills around you, the tension thick as the air itself seems to hold its breath. The Uruks behind Glûg shift, their eyes flickering with doubt, but their weapons remain drawn, ready to strike.

And then, before either you or Adar can react, a new presence cuts through the fray. Galadriel.

Her figure appears, seemingly out of nowhere, her silver armor catching the dim light of the battlefield. Her eyes burn with righteous fury, a silent storm brewing behind them. She does not look at you or Adar—her focus is solely on Sauron. With a fluid, effortless motion, she draws her sword, the blade gleaming in the low light as she steps forward.

For a moment, Sauron’s attention shifts to her, his dark gaze narrowing as the air around them thickens with power. Without a word, Galadriel charges, her sword slicing through the night with lethal precision, aimed directly at Sauron. The clash between them is immediate and fierce, their weapons meeting with a force that seems to shake the very ground beneath your feet. The battlefield trembles with the impact of their fight, a collision of light and shadow, of righteous fury and dark malice.

As they battle, the world around you seems to shift, the air growing thick with tension. You struggle to stay conscious, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you clutch Adar’s arm. His face is a storm of emotion—rage, fear, and something deeper, something rawer. He presses harder against your wound, his hands slick with your blood, and his gaze shifts between you and the scene unfolding before him.

“Stay with me,” Adar murmurs, his voice soft but firm, cutting through the haze of pain clouding your mind.

But even as he speaks, you feel the darkness closing in around you, pulling you under. Your body grows heavy, the pain dulling to a distant throb as your vision narrows. The sounds of the battlefield fade into the background, the world around you reduced to the steady beat of Adar’s heart against your side.

Galadriel and Sauron continue to clash, their battle a blinding display of power, but you can no longer focus on it. Your world has shrunk to the feel of Adar’s arms around you, the warmth of his breath against your skin, the quiet, desperate plea in his voice as he fights to keep you grounded.

“Adar…” you murmur, your voice barely a whisper.

He shifts, his movements quick and precise as he scoops you into his arms, his grip tightening. “I won’t lose you,” he says, his voice thick with desperation. “I won’t.”

As the battle continues to rage around him, Adar fights his way through the chaos. His blade cuts through the enemy with a ferocity you have never seen before, and a small group of his closest Uruks rally around him, forming a protective barrier. Every movement is calculated, every step taken with the singular goal of getting you to safety.

But the pain is overwhelming now, your body weak and trembling in his arms. You try to focus, to stay conscious, but the pull of darkness is too strong. The last thing you remember before the world goes black is the sensation of Adar’s arms tightening around you, his voice a distant echo in your fading mind.

When you wake, the world is still.

Your body aches, your side throbbing with the memory of Glug’s betrayal, but you are alive. The soft crackle of a fire nearby fills the silence, and as your eyes adjust to the dim light, you realize you are no longer on the battlefield.

You are in a tent—Adar’s tent. The scent of blood and smoke lingers in the air, but the worst of the battle’s noise has faded. Your body is wrapped in bandages, the wound from Glug’s attack having been carefully tended to.

Slowly, you sit up, the movement causing a sharp pain to shoot through your side. You wince, clutching at the bandage as you try to get your bearings.

“You’re awake.”

Adar’s voice is soft, and when you turn, you see him standing at the entrance of the tent, his armor smeared with blood and dirt, his face hardened by the weight of the day’s events. But there is something else there too—relief. He has been worried about you. The thought causes your heart to flutter.

“How long...?” you begin, your voice hoarse.

“A few hours,” he replies, crossing the space between you. He kneels beside you, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You should not have thrown yourself into that blade. You should have let me handle it.”

You meet his gaze, your own filled with defiance despite your weakened state. “And let him kill you?”

“I would have survived,” he says, though his voice falters slightly, betraying the truth beneath his words. He had not expected Glûg’s betrayal, nor had he expected you to take the blow meant for him.

Silence lingers between you, thick with unspoken emotions. His hand, rough from battle, cups your cheek as he studies your face, as though ensuring you’re truly there, alive and breathing. You see the conflict in his eyes—relief, fear, and something deeper, more fragile. His thumb traces the line of your jaw, a touch so tender it almost undoes you.

Without thinking, you reach up, your fingers curling around the edge of his armor, pulling him closer. He doesn’t resist, his breath hitching as you lean in. His lips find yours in a kiss filled with emotions. The tension, the fear, the relief—it all melts away as your mouths meet, his hand sliding to the back of your neck, holding you gently as if you might slip away from him again.

The kiss is soft at first, tentative, but soon deepens, the weight of everything that has passed between you—life, death, betrayal—pouring into it. You can feel his heart pounding against your chest as he pulls you closer, his relief palpable in every touch. You feel it too, the reassurance of his warmth, of knowing he’s here, that you are both still standing in a world that seems determined to tear you apart. You grip his shoulder pulling him tighter to you. A rough groan escapes him as his hands tangle in your hair.

Stretching closer to him, you wince, when the movement pulls on the wound on your side. You pull back, breathless, and his forehead rests against yours. His voice is a whisper, hoarse from everything left unsaid. “I thought I lost you.”

“You didn’t,” you murmur, your fingers brushing the side of his face. “I’m still here. With you.” For a moment, you just hold each other, the world outside the tent fading into the background. In that small, quiet space, it’s just the two of you—wounded but alive.

The memory of Glûg’s treachery hits you like a wave. “He joined Sauron,” you say bitterly. “Some of them did.��

Adar’s expression darkens. “Yes. Sauron’s poison runs deep. I had thought to save them from him and only succeeded in pushing them into his arms.”

You can hear the weight of his anger, the hurt that simmers beneath the surface. You reach out, your hand resting against his arm. “Not all of them betrayed you,” you remind him. “You still have loyal children.”

He nods, though his gaze remains distant, as if he were lost in thought.

“I should have protected you better,” he says after a moment, his voice soft. “But instead, you protected me. Again.”

A small smile tugs at your lips despite the pain. “I don’t regret it. I am not some damsel in need of rescue Adar.”

His eyes meet yours, something unspoken passing between you. The weight of the kiss you had shared before lingers in the air, the tension between you still palpable.

Adar reaches out, his fingers brushing gently against your cheek, and for a moment, you think he might kiss you again. But instead, he pulls back, his expression conflicted.

“We will have our reckoning with Sauron,” he says, his voice hardening. “But for now, you need to rest.”

You nod, though your mind is already turning toward the battle still to come.

Just as the silence between you and Adar settles, the tent’s entrance flares open, and Maela strides in, her expression grim and urgent. She bows her head briefly to Adar before her eyes settle on you.

“Apologies for the interruption, my Queen,” she says, her voice taut. “There is news from the battlefield.”

The tension in the air thickens. You struggle to sit up straighter despite the pain still gnawing at your side. Adar is there in an instant, supporting your arm and shoulder and helping you settle against the bed behind you. His gaze flicks between you and Maela, his face unreadable but alert.

“Speak,” you command, your voice steady even though your body protests.

Maela’s eyes flicker with something—grief or regret, you aren’t sure—as she begins. “Eregion has fallen. Our forces overwhelmed the last of the elven defenses. Celebrimbor…” She pauses, as if weighing the weight of the words. “Celebrimbor is dead, slain by Sauron himself.”

The words hit like a blow, and though you have no particular love for the Elven smith, the significance of his death can not be denied. Adar’s jaw tightens, though his reaction remains controlled.

“And Galadriel?” you ask, your voice low.

Maela hesitates. “She fell from a cliff during the battle. We do not know where she is, or if she even survived. Some say they saw her fall into the river, but there has been no sign of her body.”

A knot forms in your stomach. Galadriel, for all her arrogance, is a formidable force. If she is dead, it would have been clear by now. If she is alive, her vengeance will be swift.

“And the losses?” Adar asks, his voice hard but quiet.

Maela’s face darkens further. “We lost many, both Uruk and mages. However, the elves suffered greater casualties. The Uruks and our forces have integrated well… better than expected. But the weight of the battle has been heavy on all.”

You glance at Adar, noting the tension in his shoulders. The fight had been brutal, and though the combined forces have survived, the war is far from over.

“Elrond,” Maela continues, “he and a small group of elves wait nearby. They wish to discuss terms to cease the fighting, though their numbers are few.”

A brief silence falls over the tent, the weight of the news settling on your shoulders. Eregion has fallen, but the battle is far from over. Sauron is still out there, as are his new loyalists—Uruk, like Glûg, who betrayed everything Adar stands for- and you by association.

“What terms?” you ask, your voice sharp, cutting through the tension. “They come seeking mercy when they are the ones who brought this war to our doorstep.”

“Perhaps they realize they have no other choice,” Adar mutters, his eyes dark and reflective. He turns to you, his expression unreadable. “Elrond knows what’s at stake.”

You think of the Elven Lord waiting nearby. Elrond has been a voice of reason to many in the storm, but reason has not saved Eregion.

“I will hear them,” you say finally, though your tone is edged with steel. “But no mercy will be offered unless it is earned.”

Maela bows her head. “As you wish, my Queen.” She hesitates before adding, “Shall I have them escorted to the tent, or would you prefer to meet elsewhere?”

You exchange a look with Adar. The decision weighs heavily on both of you, but there is little choice. The elves have come to bargain, and you will make sure they understand the cost.

“We will meet them here,” you reply, your voice firm. “Let them see what their arrogance has wrought.”

As Maela turns to leave, you catch the sense of unease in Adar’s eyes. He remains silent, his thoughts unreadable, but you can sense the conflict beneath his exterior. You both understand what it means to truly be at war—with the elves, with Sauron, and perhaps even with yourselves. It is a heavy burden to bear.

#adar #adar rings of power #adar x you #adar x reader #adar fanfic #adar series #rings of power s2 #the rings of power #alliance of shadows #fanfiction

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mortuary-reads · 3 months ago

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"I feel as though I should be with you, always..."

Embraced in Light

Miquella/Female OC (No Romance)

Summary~ Seraphin finds herself lost in the Land of Shadow after being stripped of her Grace. One morning she wakes and is greeted by a kindly stranger…

Warning~ Feelings of obsession, Cult-like behavior, Religious yearning, blood and injury

Word Count~ 2,096

Author’s Note~ This is NOT a sexual or suggestive piece. I have a deep admiration for Miquella and wanted to express that via writing. I apologize in advance if I didn't get everything completely accurate, but I tried as best as I could.

Mood board made by Me

Divider 1 made by~ @strangergraphics

Divider 2 made by~ @saradika-graphics

Was it luck or the Greater Will that decided to save a lowly Tarnished? Seraphin didn’t get a look at what kept the Curseblade’s attention, her only goal to create an even bigger distance between her and certain death. When her lungs couldn't take anymore she toppled onto the ground, gasping for air. The immense fear and adrenaline flooding her veins had kept the giant gash on her right forearm a secret to her mind until now. On her knees, she stared wide eyed at it, her pain receptors finally kicking in. It took everything within her to not scream in agony. Blood dripped heavily from her arm onto the side of her brown chemise dress. Seraphin fell on her side and gripped her arm tightly as broken sobs escaped her mouth. Moments that seemed like an eternity passed, and she felt herself doze off, but she knew she’d die if she let exhaustion take over. With nothing to lean on but herself, she slowly lifted her body back up, wincing through each movement. She tore the hem of her dress into a long strip and wrapped it tightly around her arm, tucking the end within itself to secure it. Not far from her was a dusty, clear patch of ground that she decided to take for her own while she recovered.

As Seraphin’s eyes fluttered open, there was no pale sun to greet her, but the body of a large gray horse with horns and a shaggy mane. It sniffed and picked at the wheat at the edge of the clearing. She shot up from her makeshift bed and scooted back, careful not to put pressure on her wounded arm. Next to the beast was a tall figure sitting on the end of the log she’d added to her camp. Words lodged themselves in her throat as she examined the being in front of her. They were no mortal, she could immediately tell that. A long flowing mane of blonde hair fell over their porcelain body, pooling together on the ground. The golden embellishments on their white gown glistened in the morning light.

The figure turned their head toward her.

“Do not be frightened, Tarnished. I mean thee no harm.” A male voice came forth, slightly raspy, but warm. “Come sit with me.”

Seraphin lifted herself to her feet and cautiously walked over to the boy, her knees gave out as she sat on the log next to him. Bright golden eyes looked at her under long eyelashes, and her breath hitched.

“I… am Miquella.”

“Miquella…” She whispered to herself, his name filled her mouth with a sweetness. She raised her voice, “I’m Seraphin.”

“You are hurt, Seraphin.” He looked at her bandaged forearm, covered in a large patch of dried blood that had seeped through.

She drew her arm to her chest and looked at the ground. “Y-yes. I was attacked the day before last, when I awoke here. I had no way of defending myself…”

Miquella reached out his arm, expecting her to know what he wanted- and she did. Seraphin lowered her forearm so that he could hold it. His touch sent a fluttering wave of warmth through her body, and she watched closely at how graceful his movements were as he unwrapped her bandaging. With the final unravel, she let out a shaky breath as she looked at the deep gash, the area around it red and swollen. Her cheeks became hot and a pit grew in her stomach.

“Please forgive me for my abhorrent state.” She swallowed hard, thinking of her blood soaked gown, and dirt covered body.

Miquella caressed the skin around the wound as if to tell her it was alright.

“Torrent.” He said, not looking away from her arm. The horned horse stopped its grazing, and walked the few steps over to them. On its side was a small golden flask. Miquella took it from the hanging rope as he dropped the bloody fabric on the ground. He uncorked the bottle and lifted it over Seraphin’s arm. Gold liquid poured from the lip and into her laceration. She winced as it filled, but a sudden coolness overtook the pain, spreading throughout her arm. Her head fell back as she felt her fever break, and sighed heavily with relief. Lowering her head back down, her eyes widened as a completely healed arm greeted her sight; only a scar remained. Seraphin’s face of awe raised to look at her healer, and their eyes met again. She quickly cast her gaze to her arm, not ready to deal with the emotions staring into them caused her.

Miquella corked and hung the bottle back on Torrent’s side.

“Thank… thank you I-” Her throat tightened as tears clouded her line of vision.

He placed his hand lightly under Seraphin’s jaw and lifted her head up, “You are made well again to the best of my own abilities. But I cannot help you… with this.” He frowned, examining her left eye.

A look of confusion drew over the girl’s face.

“You… know not of what I mean?”

“No.” That eye in particular had been immense torture when she arrived, but the pain had dulled over that short amount of time. “What’s wrong?”

“What was once green as the grass, is now cloaked in darkness. I’m afraid you have been stripped of your Grace.” He said slowly, His hand never left her jaw as he gave her a sympathetic look.

“Wha-?” Seraphin knew something had been off about her. She realized it now- tugging at her core, a feeling of emptiness. The pain in her body had overshadowed the growing desperation in the back of her mind. “I don’t…I don’t understand.” Her lips quivered and the pooled water in her eyes spilled over her cheeks.

My purpose…done for? It was unfathomable. I’ve been given no new trials, or foes. No warning for this. Queen Marika, you would not do this to me… would you?

She turned her body away from Miquella and let herself fall from the log to her knees. Confusion and fear crashed together in her gut like an angry sea. There was silence, but only for a moment. “If it is so- you have wasted your healing on faded worth.” A pause, “Nonetheless, I thank you for your kindness.” She sniffed.

Seraphin felt a hand on her back. “No, sweet Tarnished. Giving kindness requires no reward of worth, just as your worth is not diminished by your separation from Grace.”

No? She stopped sobbing and turned her head to face him. Her heart skipped a beat as their eyes locked. Mania started to bubble up through her body and into her very veins. Seraphin was no warrior; no leader in search of bloodshed, or a throne in the Lands Between. She had no desire to turn into what she’d seen at the Roundtable Hold.

Turning her body back around, she knelt at Miquella’s feet and stared up at him, hands resting lightly on his knee. “What is there for me, then?” She could not hide the desperation in her voice.

“A new pull, Seraphin. You are now free to carve your own path. Though,” with a soft tilt of his head, he gently furrowed his brows, “I did not think it possible for wanderers to come here… not yet.”

“What is this place?”

Miquella caressed a piece of her dark prussian hair behind her ear. “You have crossed the threshold into the Land of Shadow, a forbidden realm that was veiled by Queen Marika herself.”

“I… was ambushed at the Siofra river. I have no other memory past a slamming force against my back.” She frowned, remembering only a whisper of the pain between her shoulder blades. “Misfortune may seem to be my new master here.”

He shook his head, “Your woes have led you down quite a different path, but not one without hope.”

“Miquella,” Seraphin gazed at him longingly, her heart jumping up to her throat. His aura shone brightly, waves of warmth washing over her. She tried to calm her quivering voice, “I don’t know why, but… I feel as though I should be with you, always.”

A faint chuckle slipped from his lips, his voice akin to the gentle rustle of leaves. “With me always?”

“Whatever it is you do, wherever it is you go,” She straightened her upper body. Her voice gained purpose behind it, filling the emptiness in her core, and rejuvenating her soul, “I shall follow.”

His eyes searched hers. She didn’t know what he was looking for, but could only hope he’d accept her; any part of her as long as she could be with him.

“No,” Miquella stated firmly, covering her hands on his knee with his, "your desire is admirable, but my path toward divinity is one I must face alone.”

“Can I not aid you as you have aided me?” She could almost hear her heart crack.

“I’m afraid not, dear Seraphin, not by being my shadow, but you don’t have to feel stranded here. I would be most fortunate to have you as an aid to my cause. To Godhood.”

To Godhood, repeated itself in her mind. I shall serve you in any form. “Kindly Miquella, anything.” She pleaded to him.

He knew she meant every word. Every cause she stood for, every friend she'd made, didn’t matter anymore. The warmth in her chest became too overwhelming; tears of desperation, of need, filled her eyes once more.

He closed his eyes in thought for a moment. “I shall call my loyal knight, Leda, to come find you. I believe you’ll find great support in one another. I would advise staying here until her arrival.”

Seraphin nodded. She couldn’t hide the dejection on her face. Miquella leaned down to place a kiss on the top of her head and gently pulled her into his bosom. The blue haired girl sank into him like he was a warm bed of flowers. The way he held her made it feel as though all her problems, doubts, and fears were lifted.

“Rejoice, Seraphin,” the boy spoke softly, his words vibrating inside her mind, “for you will help me usher in a new age of compassion; of love and benevolence. I will be the light to those who seek a better world. There is no room for sorrow here.”

And there was no sorrow to be found.

Miquella lifted Seraphin’s head from him and gently stood, staring down at his new believer. The sun shone around his hair like a halo, making him look truly God-like.

She cupped her hands together at her chest, waiting patiently for his next words.

“A new light shines in you. We may part here, but you are not forgotten.”

She nodded her head in understanding.

He turned to Torrent, still at their side.

“Please, let me-” She got up from her knees and offered her hand to the demi-god. He placed his palm on top of hers as the other rested on Torrent’s back. He then lifted himself onto the horse, making it look like he himself weighed nothing at all. He squeezed her hand firmly before letting go.

It was immediate agony to her, not knowing when she’d be able to feel his touch again. They both looked up in the direction of the foreboding, twisted, black tree that towered over the land. It was magnificent… and terrifying.

“When will I see you again?” She blurted out suddenly.

Miquella turned his head to face her and smiled, his eyes full of warmth and affection. “In due time, my sweet Seraphin. From this point onward, you will carry my ambitions as if they were your own. As long as you do this, I will always be with you.”

She inhaled as if to soak in and preserve his voice. “I will await your knight with enthusiasm for the road ahead.”

“Then this is farewell. I leave thee well, and with resolve. Embrace this new journey, and come back to me the same.”

Could she place a hint of sadness in his tone?

Seraphin lowered her torso and bowed. She didn’t have the courage to tell him goodbye, knowing the final word to separate them would break her heart. She straightened her body as she heard the shuffle of hooves on the hard ground. With a hand on her chest, she watched the demi-god Miquella depart through the tall wheat, his figure fading into the distance as he pursued the power she felt he so rightfully deserved.

#elden ring #miquella the kind #miquella the unalloyed #oc #shadow of the erdtree #elden ring fanfic #fanfiction #writing #writer #ao3 #obsession #fantasy #no smut

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sylviesoothsayer22 · 2 days ago

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Well-Matched - Chapter 6

Ipomoea quamoclit Part I

Summary:

My fault...

All my fault....

Wei Ying just wanted to get better.

WARNING: there's past!wangxian, Hua Cheng only shows up at the end, blood, dismembered body parts, disfigurement and death of a child. So, if this isn't your cup of tea, it's okay. You can come back next week for soft Huaxian moments if you prefer. WWX is in a really bad place this chapter.

If Wei Ying had a mouth, he would have screamed himself hoarse by now.

He was without a voice or body. A pathetic, helpless, shapeless mass of energy wholly at their mercy.

He could feel burning sensations all over his current form, almost as if he was being stabbed by countless red-hot needles. All he could do was writhe in agony, his spirit trying to pitifully squeeze between their fingers and escape, as clawed hands, pressed and condensed his fragile being, molding it like clay.

It hurts… Was all his thoughts could formulate.

Just a little longer, my lord…. They would assure.

Please do not leave us…

Let us help you….let us help you….

They were forcefully stitching his frayed spirit back together and imbuing it with demonic qi, Wei Ying would eventually realize.

Enough….just stop…. please ….

He should have had his very soul scattered and lose its chance at reincarnation.

It was no less than what he deserved.

“WEI WUXIAN!”

A feminine voice was calling out to him.

“I KNOW YOU’RE STILL THERE!”

Whose calling…?

“PLEASE!”

Blurred images flowed back into his mind.

He was in a cave.

There was a young girl around his age.

A branding iron.

I know her…. I saved her….

“SHE NEEDS YOUR HELP!”

Who…?

Who could possibly ask for my help?

“WEI WUXIAN!”

Whose calling?! What was her name?!

Enough. He growled.

They didn’t listen and continued to crush him in their suffocating embrace.

“I SAID ENOUGH!” He roared.

The blood-pool they were hovering over suddenly boiled and glowed molten red. Bursting bubbles formed into countless sharp spikes that shot in every direction, hitting several wraiths in the process. The creatures let out loud, ear-piercing, shrieks akin to the damned. Their wails echoed all around the dank cave as they shrank and receded into the walls, out of their enraged master’s sight.

Gently, like a leaf separated from its branch and drifting down, his spirit descended onto the cave floor.

Feeling his senses slowly come back to him, Wei Wuxian cracked his eyes open, sat up on his knees and studied his hands.

They had now regained their human shape, but he could see right through them. His new form felt unstable, flickering in and out of existence. A candle light trying so desperately to keep burning on its little wick.

Looking around for the person who called out to him, his eyes were attracted to movement within the blood-pool.

There were bodies floating up from the water’s depths.

The smallest one looked to be about three or four years old.

If he were capable of breathing, his lungs would have felt crushed from the sheer dread that coursed through his veins.

….no.

No.

Nononononononono-

Mind blank, Wei Ying crawled to what remained of his family.

He climbed into the thick pool of blood and human waste. Nostrils stinging from the smell of rusted iron and filth. Robes weighing him down as he wadded past mutilated carcasses, floating limbs, and decapitated heads. From the corner of his eye, he spotted a hint of familiar grey hair matted with crusted blood and free from its typical bun. The bones of the skull poking out of rotting flesh.

Wei Wuxian vacantly stared at (what he assumed) was Granny’s head, before continuing.

Finally, he reached the littlest corpse, carefully shook its shoulder and called out:

“A-Yuan….? What are you doing?” He barely registered the manic trace in his voice, the shaking, the overwhelming need to vomit. Like an infection, hysteria settled into his mind. Growing in magnitude the longer he kept talking .

“Come on, this isn’t funny.”

“You’ll catch a cold like this.”

“A-Yuan….? Baobei…?”

“Open your eyes. Please… ”

Eye.

He could only see one eye.

The other half of his face-

Oh gods…

His son’s face-

“You want some help? Here. Xian-ge will take care of it!”

Quivering hands hovered over the boy, Wei Wuxian tenderly wrapped his arms around the little one’s waist and pulled him up. He didn’t even lift him that far before his son fazed through Wei Ying’s flickering form. The child fell back into the pool, landing on top of another corpse with a sickening splash!

“I’m sorry!” He yelped, horrified.

“Here! Come here! I’ll get you out this time!”

He tried for the second time.

And a third and a fourth.

It was no use.

He couldn’t touch him. He couldn’t feel him.

Wei Ying collapsed back into the pool. Unable to do anything else, he settled the-the corpse onto his lap. Hugging him- it tightly and pressing the head against his cheek, he shivered.

Cold.

He shouldn’t be so cold.

How is A-Yuan going to warm himself up in heaven?

The least he could do was give them a proper burial and he couldn’t even do that much.

Unable to do anything else, he howled. Utterly gutted and enraged. Animalistic screams he didn’t know he was capable of ripped out of his throat. The cave walls cracking and crumbling as demonic energy gathered and lashed out in response to his grief.

My fault…

I’ll never forgive them…

All my fault…

WHO WAS IT?!

All my fault…

Someone needs to PAY!

Wei Ying snapped his eyes open, only to be met with darkness where he could hardly make out the cracked ceiling above him. Wiping away the last remains of his nightmare with his long sleeve, the ghost carefully rolled his head to the side and checked over the little one tucked against him, fast asleep.

He slowly reached out and gently traced A-Yuan’s features with the tips of his fingers, touch feather-light. Basking in the sense of contact.

He was careful not to brush against the wound that was on one side of A-Yuan’s face.

The injury that ultimately snuffed out his life.

Beneath the candlelight, Wei Wuxian could fool himself by believing that the colour of his son’s cheeks were still a hale and healthy pink.

With the slight shuffles A-Yuan made in his sleep, Wei Wuxian could pretend that the boy’s chest was still rising and falling.

By ignoring the last two years, Wei Wuxian could delude himself into thinking that A-Yuan had grown a few inches, as if his little one isn’t currently frozen at the tender age of four.

A bittersweet expression would cross Granny’s face every time it was her turn to tuck A-Yuan into bed.

They’re supposed to grow like weeds at this point. She would sigh.

He could feel a fresh wave of tears building up. A traitorous sob managed to escape past his lips. Sensing movement, Wei Ying quickly clamped a hand over his mouth and laid still. Glassy eyes took in the little body twitching and curling up even tighter against the man before finally relaxing again.

If Wei Ying felt more like himself, he would’ve joked that his son was making his best turtle-impression.

Instead, he slowly reached out for the discarded stuffed bunny lying on the side. Wei Wuxian carefully switched positions with the toy, watching as A-Yuan instinctively curled his arms in a vice-like grip once the stuffing was within his reach. He waited for a few more moments to see if his son would wake, then tenderly kissed the little forehead.

The young ghost slipped out of the bed and quietly left the room.

Exiting the inn he was temporarily staying at, Wei Wuxian took a turn to the left and continued on his way.

Where was he going? He didn’t know.

He just knew it had to be far away from worried eyes.

Wei Wuxian took extra care to duck behind walls and into alleyways whenever he heard a ghost passing by. He could just imagine what they would think if they saw him in this state:

Isn’t that Black Flute? The guy seems a little out of it, don’t ya think?

That’s the new Calamity? Why does he look like shit?

Why are his eyes red? Was he crying ?! Did this wannabe Ghost King actually cry?!

He didn’t need those words to go back to the Wens. They had enough on their plate, thank you very much.

He didn’t stop until the hollers from Ghost Market quieted to a dull roar, till the smoothed-down path beneath his feet had turned uneven with rocks and tree roots, till the moon and stars decorating the sky were hidden behind leaves and foliage.

This seemed like a decent enough spot.

Good. His legs had already started shaking.

Wei Ying leaned against the nearest tree and slid down to the cold ground. Too tired to hold up his weight anymore.

Just a bit of rest and he’ll be right as rain soon. He told himself.

Sounds of crying echoed throughout the forest. Miserable sobs that spelled out one’s crushing defeat with every whimper. Wei Ying whipped his head in both directions, trying to locate the source.

It took him a few seconds to register that they were coming from him.

Wait, that’s not supposed to happen.

The shaking had expanded until he was trembling head-to-toe.

Stop it.

He slapped himself, squeezed his thighs, pinched his biceps, all to the point of bruising himself. Anything. Anything to get these dramatics to stop .

Mucus had pooled into his nose and dripped out of his nostrils; he couldn’t breathe.

In the past two years since he died, Wei Wuxian had made sure to thoroughly distract himself so that he wouldn’t turn out like this. How could he protect the Wens if he kept having these-these moments of madness?

Wei Ying was forced to inhale through his mouth, which somehow made it worse .

His face felt wet and hot, he couldn’t even make out his own hands. A wave of panic had settled into his mind.

Stop crying.

It accomplished nothing and would only leave him with a headache afterwards.

Just stop….!

It wouldn’t stop.

The sobs had taken on a hysterical note to them and morphed into wails that could only come from a wounded animal.

Wei Ying curled into himself, just waiting for this episode to pass on its own.

Oh, I see. It’s because they’re Wen dogs, and Wen dogs aren’t human. So, killing them doesn’t count – that’s what you all meant, right?

You’re very brave. Are you threatening me?

I swear on my name, they’ll never hurt you ever again. I’ll keep you all safe!

Where did all that arrogance come from?

You were just trying to do what was right. Unlike them .

What made him think that he could protect anyone?

They did this. Not you.

In my attempt to make things better, I somehow made it worse.

But they hurt them! They killed A-Yuan!

I promised to keep you all safe and I broke it in the cruelest way possible.

Are you just going to let them walk freely?! No punishment for the needless deaths on their part?!

“But I’m the one who started it!” He choked out.

Wei Ying clawed at his face. Pulling at the tender meat of his cheeks until he drew blood.

I don’t even know why they’re all still following me. How could they trust me after proving what a colossal failure I am?

His mind wanted to shift the blame both on himself and those hypocrites who put him and the Wens in this situation.

Who is ultimately responsible? The Yiling Lazou or the sects? The answers shifted back and forth like a meandering game of cuju. Exhausting and inconclusive.

You need to let it go. His mind would eventually say, once he’d tired himself out.

But he didn’t know how.

I don’t know what to do.

Someone, please tell me what I need to do!

Soft tugs from the top of Wei Ying’s head pierced through the fog of self-doubt.

It seemed that he’d been stuck in his own mind for so long that he caused his little companions to worry.

“I’m alright.” He whispered softly to the fireflies currently flittering above him, lights fluctuating with concern. His elbows tickled as more of them floated out of his sleeves, disturbed from their slumber the moment they felt their master’s distress.

“ I’m alright. ” He insisted and showed them his hand “See? The shaking stopped.”

Wei Ying gently tugged the strands of his hair out of the worried creatures’ grasp. They continued buzzing around his head, some nestling themselves against his wounded cheeks, trying to get rid of the blood.

“It’ll heal soon.” He assured, while gently waving them off. Wei Ying stood up, wobbling slightly as he did so, and slowly pulled out a familiar black flute.

He stared at Chenqing for a few moments. Despite all the hardships he and the flute went through, it had somehow still maintained its original form. Still retained the same black shade as all the other corrupted bamboos back at the Mounds. The instrument’s body remained unchanged, not a single scratch or blemish in sight.

The only difference was that the jade token he’d meticulously crafted was long gone. All that was left was a frayed red string pitifully swaying against the night breeze.

Deciding to distract himself, Wei Ying took a steadying breath, placed the flute onto his lips and played.

It was a song that he memorised by heart, though for the life of him, he could not recall where he heard it from or if it even had a name. Wei Ying can only say that this song brought him comfort, accompanied by a bittersweetness that just wouldn’t stop nibbling at the back of his mind.

It reminded him of cool, still waters, of breathtaking views only seen through mountainsides, of fresh winds that cleanse the lungs with a single breath, of the sense of safety at the sight of soft blue skies, of roiling clouds that add a touch of tranquillity once spotted, of the steady sounds of guqin strings humming and lulling its listeners to a dreamless sleep…

Wei Ying felt his little companions gradually stop buzzing and nest back into his sleeves. He allowed his shoulders to relax some as he carried the song to its end.

After the final note faded into the wind, Wei Ying took a moment to collect himself, wiping away the fresh tears clinging to his eyelashes.

Great. Now he was crying for a different reason….

The silence was broken by a soft clink-clinking sound resonating throughout the forest. Enrapturing and pleasant to the ear.

A familiar, yet undeniably deeper, voice called out:

“A lovely song. May this one know its name?”

Note 1: Cuju or Ts'u-chü (蹴鞠): the ancient Chinese ball game that's similar to football. WWX is basically saying there's nonstop back-and-forth blame-shifting going on in his head that's akin to a ball game that never ends.

Note 2: Ipomoea quamoclit or cypress vine flower, was a popular option to decorate one's grave with in the Victorian times. So, it could easily symbolize grief and sorrow. But in Chinese culture, the flower also means restricted and unrequited love, (which I think is perfect considering how the Wangxian ship went in this verse) among other meanings.

Hope ya liked the new chapter. If you did, please be sure to drop a like/comment!

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dazaisimpletmereadfanficspls · 1 year ago

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A bloody goodbye

A/N Hi this is my first time posting on tumblr, I wrote something right after my daily mental breakdown from chapter 109 so I was in the mood to write something sad<3 ALSO MANGA SPOILERS AHEAD

The room felt cold to Chuuya, like he was suddenly embraced by the ghost of a dead friend. Perhaps that really is what happened just now. Four bullet wounds could be seen on his old friend and ex partner's body, two to his shoulders, one to his kidney and a finishing blow to his head.

The same Dazai who just wouldn't die, even after all those suicide attempts was killed by the hands of his dear friend. What a sight, any normal person would think that he'd be happy. He has expressed his disgust and hate for Dazai many times.

"Congratulations Chuuya"

A voice rings in his head, his head filled with questions when he stares at the pistol in his hand. Nothing can compare to the immense guilt and horror he felt. He didn't need to ask, he knew exactly what happened. Dazai's lifeless body laying limp right in front of him, the voice of a Russian man ringing in his head and a horrible ache penetrating his skull.

He hated it, all of it. He was in horrible pain, every inch of his body hurt. But that could never even compare to the pain he inflicted on his ex partner. He wanted to throw up, he wanted to die, he wanted to kill the Russian, so many things were happening in his head he felt it was his only option.

"Granters of dark disgrace.."

As he muttered the words feared by all those who faces him on the battefield, he realized this would be his last time using Corruption. After all, no one can save him anymore.

"You need not wake me again"

Red marks appeared on his arms and his face, as his consciousness once again slipped away. The burning sensation of pure rage fading into pure agony from the form. He screamed in pain, but he could feel the power flowing through his veins.

"Chuuya? What are you doing?! This prison can withstand you abilities, you can't just break out with brute force!"

He could hear the Russian's voice fading, this would be his last kill. He could end a war right then and there, but he didn't do it because he had anyone to protect. He didn't care anymore. A small hint of regret flashed in his eyes before the god within him unleashed itself and everything went dark.

Dostoevksy didn't panic, after all why would he? He had completed his goal, and there was no way Chuuya could get to him. He had taken measurements, although he had not thought about the possibility that Chuuya would use Corruption. It was a terrible idea, and he knew it very well.

He would take his final breath in the prison, by the hands of his bishop. This was the end of the terrorrist Fyodor Dostoevsky. And he was ready, he had many things to say. But he'd get another chance the next time he manifests. And he'd do it all over again.

The door to the control room swings open, and a short male flew in throwing a wild punch at the Russian. In an uncontrollable rage, he tore the man's skin off his bones, he punched the anemics face over and over until it was so dismorphed he didn't look human anymore. It hurt, but he never screamed. He had experienced far worse, he felt his own death draw near as the light slipped from his fingertips. He no longer had a reason to hide his true self. He was no man of god, he was a devil, a demon born in the flesh. There was not an ounce of humanity left in his wretched mind.

He never took a final breath, his lungs were ripped out of his body at the hands of the raging man. His death was not a grand moment, no one could see the look in his eyes as he said his goodbyes to the world. He died in pure agony, by the hands of a man he made his servant.

It had been too long, there was no second chance for Chuuya anymore. He had passed the point of no return. In the brief moment where his consciousness returned to him, he could see a man with long white hair in a braid. The man's face was blurry, but he knew exactly who it was. This man was there to witness both their deaths.

"'Till death do we part, Chuuya"

"What kind of sappy crap are you making up now?"

"Y'know, one day I'm gonna succeed."

"Succeed in what, exactly?"

"I'll finally get to die."

"When that happens I'll open a bottle of my finest wine and drink it with everyone from the Port Mafia by my side."

He never planned on celebrating Dazai's death, that would be far too much for his heart to handle.

What did he feel in his last moments? The man who witnessed his death would know. A beatiful, bloody goodbye to his friend, his enemy and his suffering.

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bullet-prooflove · 2 years ago

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A Safe Place - Greg Gerwitz x Reader (feat Jay Halstead)

A companion piece to Falling

Trigger Warning: Sucidal Thoughts

Tagging: @shay-o-fiction @kimm4710 @k-k0129 @cosmic-psychickitty @daniacat @enchantedblackrose @ikbenplant @crazy4chickennuggets @neapolitantoebeans @cixrosie @halsteadloversworld @i-spaced-sorry @1234-angelika @aaronhtchnrs @mysoulisasunflower @luckyladycreator2 @bbyxoo

A safe space, that’s how you had always thought of this beach. It was the place you and Greg used to come when things got to crowded in his head, too messy. He found a solace in the waves, the way they crashed against the shore, the stillness of the area. Being around nature like this soothed his soul. Now he was gone and there was just you alone in the world, sitting in the space where he had been swept out into the water.

The sun had already begun to set outside. You could see the fingers of fiery orange light creeping across the sand. You didn't know how long you sat there, alone and wrapped up in Greg’s scarf, it was the only thing you had left that still felt like him. The scent of his aftershave clung to the fabric, reminding you of better days, before he went back to the service, before his addiction had taken hold again.

Your heart was breaking into a million pieces with every single breath you took because you could feel Greg’s absence tearing at the very core of your soul. Despite yourself you had thought he would make it, you had hoped for it, prayed for it…

But your prayers had fallen on deaf ears.

You blamed yourself of course. You had been the one to kick him out, when he needed help. You hadn’t done enough to help him; you had tried but even your best wasn’t good enough. Your face was wet, years rolling down your cheeks as your eyes stung. You used the back of you hand to wipe them away.

It didn’t seem too long ago that you’d had Greg in your bed, his kisses, reckless and passionate. You thought he was over the precipice of his addiction, that he was finally kicking it but in the aftermath, you saw the tell tale traces of white powder on the dresser and you knew. You knew it wasn’t Greg making love to you, it was the addict fucking you. You had thrown him out not long after that.

Now that the anguish and agony was rising up inside of you, too much to bear. The tidal wave of grief inside of you was violent and visceral, tearing you to spreads. You couldn’t take it anymore; it was all becoming far too much.

Your grip on the Beretta tightened as you closed your eyes and sucked in a deep breath. You just needed a second, one more second before you joined Greg.

You heard Jay’s footsteps, his boots on the gravel where the sand stopped.

“Go away.” You pleaded. You could hear the exhaustion in your own voice as you brought the gun to your head and pressed it to your temple. “Please Jay, just leave me alone.”

“You know I can’t do that.” Jay said, dropping down into the sand alongside of you.

Out of every person Jay was the only one that could understand the misery that was flowing through your veins right now. You didn't want his compassion; you didn't want to hear the words that you knew would come out of his mouth. He was the only person who had the power to stop you going through with this. His large hand moved slowly, coming to rest up the Beretta before he guided it away from your head.

"Don't do this." Jay told him as he took the gun from your hand and placed it on the opposite side of him, away from your grasp. “He wouldn’t want this.”

"Greg's gone." You said, your voice becoming dull as you spoke. "What do I have to live for? He’s gone. I can feel it in my heart. There's just this empty space and I don’t know what to do with that.”

Jay reached out and clasped your hand, his fingers threading with yours as the two of you looked out towards the sunset.

“Mouse and I, we had this bond…” He shook his head, his eyes lined with tears as he spoke. “And now he’s gone, and it feels like someone has cut my heart out.”

“How are we supposed to recover from this?” You asked him, your grip on his hand tightening. “How are we supposed to move forward without him?”

“Together.” Jay told you, his thumb soothing over the back of your hand. “The two of us, we’ll get through it together.”

Love Greg? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#greg gerwitz x you #greg gerwitz imagine #greg gerwitz x reader #greg mouse gerwitz #greg gerwitz #greg mouse gerwitz x reader

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facelessstranger1867 · 2 months ago

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Day 8 of HMS Doris's Maiden Voyage

This is something of a teaser for a short story I will publish in full once I finish my next novel, Slayer of Doves. This is part of the prequel to A Stroll Through The Apocalypse, but there's no spoilers in it. Also, if you are squeamish, maybe miss this one. CW: Darkness, Thalassophobia, Gore, Flaying, Transformation, Self-mutilation, Mind control

Depth: approx. 6000 metres

Ship Status: Ascending from the anomaly in Charybdis Trench

Crew Status: Blooming

Expedition Notes:

It's pitch black. The darkness of the deep sea is something that has hovered over me like an omen, ever since we descended past 1000 metres. Yet still, it has granted me comfort, since often it was the only thing that remained the same, unaffected by the crew's madness. I often sit by the little window and stare out, I can't recall how often I have done so since we entered the anomaly. Since Avery left in their suit of metal and iron. Since that song started playing over the speaker. That gentle, piping song that smells of leaves, bloodied by a cruel and sadistic god. It's all that ever plays over the speakers anymore, that damned flute that play a most beautiful song. The melody that shakes my body like a forest in a thunderstorm. It has affected me less than the others, and they know why. Despite its beautiful sound that flower-filled lungs of colleagues wheeze past their ivy coated lips, I know what terrible fate awaits me, were I to make that choice. I can hear them, pounding on the door. I know they cannot break it, their flesh is naught but moss and ivy. But the sound of their meat, impaled from the inside by horrid thorns; it fills me with a terror I cannot describe. The song is so beautiful, and I am horrified that I will join my crewmates in their sylvan suffering. No, that's not right, I am not filled with the horror of sharing my colleagues' fate, rather, I feel that I should be, because what I feel instead is envy: deep, primordial envy. I know, in my bones, that they are in agonising bliss. I see glimpses of them, in those moment that the song, now deafening, pierces through what soundproofing blankets and pillows provide: their skin is gone, torn off by the thorns that have burst through their spines and ribs and eyes and mouths and their blood no longer flows through their veins, it's all pooled on the floor. I still hear their atrophied limbs knocking, or rather trying to knock, on my door; it sounds like dead weeds being bashed into steel. Knock, knock, knock, knock. I can barely tell what I'm writing anymore, the words are a blur, and that damn music won't stop playing.

I've torn off the skin from my arm, revealing bare flesh. As that piping song continues to envelop my senses, I see my veins turn to thorned vines like a weeping willow. And I do weep, as the thorns snake down to my hand and tear more of my skin, my bloom becoming more petals upon the branches. It feels like agony: pure, distilled agony. It hurts so much, my skin feels like itchy wool. I must remove it, gift it to that divine sadist so that it may feel welcome in our world.

I don't know why I gave in. I must resist. Someone must be left who knows what happened. It's pitch black out there. I'll hold onto the darkness. It's the only thing that's remained constant throughout. I need to hold on just a little longer, only 2 more days. What is the difference between day and night down here? I can see no light. It may be only 2 days on the surface, but here? In the depths, it may as well be an eternity. I'm so hungry. I cannot remember when last I ate, my stomach roars and I do not know how I shall fill it. Perhaps I'll try to go to the mess deck, sneak past my former comrades and that sweet, piping song. No. That would be reckless and stupid, but what other choice do I have? Knock, knock, knock. They're still outside the door, if I were to escape my self-imposed prison, I would surely be subjected to the flensing flora. There's not much room on the page.

Ok, I'll try to get to the mess deck. I pray, to whatever ancient we found down there, that I don't lose myself in that mesmerising melody. I miss my comrades. Knock, knock, knock, open.

#horror #vt norman #writing #creative writing #cosmic horror #tw violence #I wrote this after weeding in my garden

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satorena · 9 months ago

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❛ UNPROFESSIONALISM ! ❜

⟡ content warnings. explicit content. foul language. ceo!satoru. secretary!reader. mentioned past flings. fondlīng. fīngerīng. afab!reader. p in v. unprotected. brēēding. squīrtīng. gojo satoru is his own damn warning. 4.9k.

⟡ serena's note. oh if y’all knew the lengths i went thru just to post this damn fic. . .

“ugh, this is such a painnn!”

“the sooner you finish your paperwork, the sooner you’re off, sir.” you sigh, arms crossed over your chest. you’re used to your boss’ childish antics by now, having worked side by side with him for nearly a year. you check the time on your watch, “work ended about half an hour ago— you might want to hurry up.”

“but y/n!” he drags out your name, voice all whiny and pitched in a telltale manner. he pushes himself off away from his desk, chair rolling back from the impact as he lolls his head back. “this shit is sooo lame. didn’t i hire nanamin to take care of the boring stuff? how come he isn’t here handling this god forsaken load of terrorizing agony?!”

you click your tongue, clutching tighter at the clipboard in your hold. you wonder if he’d been dropped on the head as a child, his lack of self-awareness so painful it makes you reconsider if the check at the end of the week is ever worth it. “he’s scheduled the week off to keep his wife and newborn in check. he signed off about a month ago.”

he snaps his head up so quickly, you’re positive he’s gotten whiplash. gojo blinks at you through big blue eyes and snowy lashes, a dumbfounded look on his face. he lifts his index to scratch at the corner of his lips, and cocks his head to the side, “ahh. . . ‘s that right? wait— nanamin’s a dad?!”

you feel the vein in your head inevitably tick.

“sir,” you let out an exhausted sigh, completely baffled by his ineptitude. he must purposely choose to do this to you, there’s simply no other explanation. “we attended his wife’s baby shower a few months ago—the one you mistook for a bachelor party and had me escorting the escorts back home.” you lift your pointer finger, brows cinched as the memory burns into your mind. he tilts his head to the side, affirming the idea of his cluelessness even more.

you raised a second finger, “we showed up to the hospital to congratulate them on their baby— and you got them that ridiculous cutout board of yourself that sings when you press on the—”

“the button on my dick, yeah!” gojo cackles as if it’s the funniest story ever, as if you hadn’t need to dump a bucket of water on the cutout figure to get it to shut up before he could get his company sued for emotional distress.

you huff, the stressful reminder of that unfortunate day having you anxiously tugging at the hem of your skirt, “yep. that’s the one.” between the baby’s obnoxious cries and exaggerated mecha-gojo moans, you’d rather not think about that encounter.

“and this whole time i figured she was his sister,” gojo snorts, wiping a faux tear from the corner of his eye. he sighs when his laughter dies down, and pulls him chair back into his desk. “man, his wife’s a babe. guess that explains why she looked at me all crazy when i called her fine the other day.”

“you sure that’s the only reason?” you mutter under your breath, the insult flowing off your tongue so naturally that you couldn’t help stopping it, even if you wanted to. that man was all kinds of deranged, his ego and head much bigger than it needed to be.

“ouch, that’s mean, doll.” gojo pouts, clutching at the material of his blazer above his heart. the back of his free hand lands on his forehead as he dramatically leans back into his seat. his eyelids shut tightly, “you’re wounding me. ‘m too young to die. i can’t go on like this— tell my mother i loved her. sign off my will for me, wouldya? make sure to terrorize nanamin some more. oh, and empty out all my search histories. wouldn’t wanna ruin my reputation. and get rid of my porn magazines beneath my bed. ‘ve got some pretty nasty stuff there. and check up on my kid every now and then. and—”

“alright, alright. i apologize.” you cut his rambling off before it spiralled into something far worse. there’s a full headache throbbing at your temple, your feet ache from your heels, and your stomach rumbles in hunger. you’re ready to go home now, but that won’t be possible unless your big man baby of a boss finishes up his task. “i’m sure you’ve a very suitable man. many would be grateful to have you. my apologies, sir.”

he peeks through an eye, a smug smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. his beaten-puppy look is quickly replaced by one you know far too well now— the look he gets after beating his rival company in terms of stock. the look he gets after successfully shitting on his higher ups. the look he gets after getting you to cum on his fingers after a long day— you’ve stroked his ego. “i’ve trained you well, princess. always flattering me, ohh, however did i get so lucky?”

whatever have you done to get so unlucky? “time’s ticking, sir. you can’t afford to pick up megumi late from practice again.”

“nanamin’s wife might be a babe, but you’re a gem, y’know?” your boss entirely ignores you, leaning his elbow onto the pile of work he’s now completely erased from his existence. he leans his cheek into his palm, fingertips tapping at the side of his head. “one helluva girl. i mean it— i really lucked out with ya.”

you cross your leg over the other, shifting your hips over the suede material of his couch. you recognize the sultry undertone to his voice, and your clear your throat, “is that so?”

gojo chuckles, flashing you all thirty two teeth, “i mean it’s not everyday you find a woman with your patience. god, you must be in love with me or something.”

you roll your eyes, despite the small smile that creeps up on your lips, “that’s certainly not why i stayed,” which wasn’t entirely true, but it’s not as if you haven’t inflated his ego enough today. “you may be a handful but your pockets sure are generous.”

“wouldn’t kill you to make a guy feel good about himself from time to time, ya know?” he fiddled the black pen between his fingers, twirling the object from knuckle to knuckle. he pauses when you don’t answer, noticing you noticing his finger movements. and so he proceeds with a smirk, “you’re always so tense all the time. . . tell me, when’s the last time you’ve been properly fucked?”

you nearly lose the grip on your clipboard at his audacity, the question throwing you off guard. though, you quickly keep composure— a fierce facade that’s always labelled you as the calm and collected kind. though, you’re doubtful it worked against your own boss.

“that’s an unprofessional question, sir.” you grit through teeth, nails scratching at the wooden back of your board. highly hypocritical of yourself, as you’re absolutely no better than he is— having already opened a window of no return that fateful night you accepted his invite to come inside his home.

“pretty sure we’re past unprofessionalism.” he pushes himself off of his desk, rising to his feet. your eyes trail his movements, from the index finger that hooks at his tie to loosen the knot, to the cock of his head to the side that has his hair bouncing, to the sound of expensive shoes clicking with every stride closer to you.

his presence can be oddly intimidating at times— you’ve noticed while working with him for a while. there’re moments like whenever he steps up on a podium in front of thousands of people, or when the elevator doors slide open and presents him to the building. despite his childish antics, he exudes an aura so enchanting that serves as reminder of that at the end of the day, he’s the boss.

you swallow, eyes following his lean figure until he stops right before you. it’s hard to read him in moments like these, when he’s so unlike himself (or maybe finally truly himself). his hands sit in the pockets of his slacks, legs parted enough to entrap your own legs between his, as he tilts his head forward. his irises darken behind tinted shades, bangs curtaining the raise of an eyebrow.

“unprofessional?” he repeats, and your eyes narrow at him, subconsciously gripping at your board tighter. it’s the only thing that you seem to have control over, since it clearly wouldn’t be this conversation. “you mean like that time i had you creamin’ all over my fingers in the back of my car? or unprofessional like that time you bent over my desk and came all over my face? or was it that night when i had to tie your hands together to keep you from runnin’ away?”

your gaze flickers away from his, the heat of embarrassment creeping from your neck all the way to your face. he wasn’t wrong— your relationship with him had passed morally ethical the moment you pulled him in closer to kiss you instead of pushing him away.

“we’re still at work.” you quip, the last bit of resolve tattering away the longer you feel his eyes on you. your roll your ankle nervously, thighs tightening against another.

“work ended half an hour ago sweetheart, remember?” he reminds you, voice as taunting as ever, and you sure as hell don’t need to see him to know he’s smirking. right side of his lips pulled with a moon crescent dimple on the side— he’s making fun of you. “forgettin’ already? can’t have my adorable secretary so overwhelmed that it’s meltin’ her brain. that should be my dick’s doing only, of course.”

you click your tongue, eyes casting back up to stare him dead in the eye. naturally, he’s already meeting your own, with the same damn smirk you’d predicted, “you have paperwork to finish, sir. better get on that quickly.”

“oh?” he laughs at your command, pulling his hands out of his pockets to rest at his hips. he runs his tongue against the top row of his teeth, and you hate the way your mind instantly travels back to days prior when you’d once had that same tongue working in and out of you.

he hums in faux thought, tapping his index against his chin. his lips fall into a pout before instantly stretching back to its default state, his infamous smile, “i suppose you’re right. come help me finish then, hmm? teamwork makes the dream work.”

you’re skeptical— you know him too well, but you’d rather divert the focus of attention from you to those papers. anything to prevent your mind from wandering off further into endless unprofessional possibilities. “lead the way, boss.”

he curtsies dramatically as you rise to your feet, stomping over to his desk. you notice he’s got shit done, and you’ll most likely be here for a minute. and so, you stand next to the chair he’d abandoned and pick up the pen, waiting for him to sit so you both could get started.

only you should’ve known you’d fallen right into his trap the minute you agreed to his ridiculous offer. you feel him pressed up behind you, lurking over your shoulder to study whatever you had going on. he’s unreasonably tall, frame so large it has you feeling frail in his presence, and his cologne so strong you feel it already clouding your judgement.

damn it all.

clicking your tongue, you tilt your head to the side to narrow your eyes, “well? are you not going to sit?”

gojo blinks at you, “how come? i enjoy the view here much better anyway.”

you roll your eyes, before turning back to his desk. he was a complete idiot if he thought you hadn’t already anticipated his next moves. the more your wrist flexes, mumbling the words you read on your sheets as you write them down, the more you felt him. you could feel the back of your thighs meeting the from of his, you could feel his bulge rubbing at your ass, you could feel his warm breath fanning at the slope of your neck.

damn it all.

“sales have risen to a—ahhn!” your pen falters in your grip, scribbling on the white sheet as it hits the desk. your eyelids shut close, teeth clamping down on your bottom lip as a warm mouth kisses at that sensitive spot behind your ear. your palm lays flat against the surface of the table, side by side with gojo’s, body tensing as his mouth trails down lower.

“oh you bastard,” you mutter, shaky hand attempting to grab the pen in an unsteady hold. his chuckle rumbles deep from his chest, and you feel the vibrations against your back. you’re determined to stand your ground, despite the urge to push your hips back into him. he may have soft lips and an annoyingly hot voice, but you would not falter— no matter the moisture of his breath sending shivers down your spine.

you think you have it set in stone, the pen in your hold— albeit unsteady— despite his large hand creeping up your thigh. every trail of his touch leaves an electrifying feeling, and you’re sure he’s noticed your trembling knees if the way he subtly slid his leg in between yours to keep you steady said anything.

it’s when you’re ready to scribble out your mistake to replace it that he decides to plunge his canines to your jugular. the moan that erupts from you is squeaky, your hand clutching tightly at the pen as your back arches into his chest from the painful pleasure.

gojo nibbles and sucks at your skin, running his tongue over the throbbing area to soothe the pain, fingers trailing closer to your now aching core. you’re positive your skirt has now hiked up with how much your hips are pushing back into his, head lolled forward.

“aweee, what’s the matter sweetheart? ‘s too much for you already?” gojo coos, sultry voice sending chills from the shell of your ear down to your core, finally slipping his hand inside of your skirt. his fingertips brush at your clothed clit, the material of your thong shamefully damp in arousal. you huff, nails scratching at his desktop when his index and middle finger rub painfully slow circles at your clit. “but we’ve barely done anything? tsk, can’t afford slowing the company down because you’re too distracted to focus.”

your thighs and arms threaten to give out, body heating with lust and desire. you want to say you hate this, that this is against your typical work ethics, to tell him to fuck off and do the work himself. but the focus on your pussy really has you melting puddle, bottom lip tugged on to suppress any louder sounds to escape.

“y-you’re the worst.” you complain, though it fades into another moan when he pushes his thigh up in between your legs. you’re internally thankful, because had this gone any further, you’re certain you would’ve sunken to the floor.

“love you too, pretty girl.” he presses a kiss at your jaw, fingers pushing past your panties. fuck any resolve you’d held onto— you chuck the pen far away, planting both palms down as you allowed him to take control. every rub of his fingers at your clit had you dripping down his thigh, to where your hips shifted and rolled down his leg, dragging out that blissful heat in your gut.

“givin’ up already? y’didn’t put much of a fight this time, can’t say i’m a disappointed.” his free hand grips at your thigh and trails up to your hips, resting at your flesh to guide you down his leg. he’s all too enthralled by your sensitivity, gaze zeroed in on your expressions— from the slackness at your jaw to the way your brows furrow.

“just h-hurry up already,” you grit, eyelashes fluttering as your eyelids lift. your gaze meets his instantly, and gulp at the hungry look in his eyes. his skin is already flushed pink, lips parted as he pants heavily. “you’re no—ngh, better than i am, dickhead.”

“well aren’t ya damn mouthy,” gojo acknowledged, though clearly unbothered, as his fingers pinch at that bundle of nerve. you gasp, cunt clenching as it leaks more of your essence down on him. your head drops back against his shoulder, the slope of your back curving as you grip onto the closest thing in your vicinity— the hem of his blazer. “hm, whatever happened to my obedient secretary? always so polite and respectful, don’t tell me i haven’t trained you enough?”

“m-maybe you haven’t,” you pant, chest heaving as you feel his fingertips teasing the entrance of your folds. they’re slow movements, applying just enough pressure to ignite the spark in your guts but not enough to leave you wanting more. “can’t even do your damn j-job right and you call yourself boss? hah, wonder if mister geto would have this issue— fuuuck!”

“low fuckin’ blow, sweets.” gojo chuckles darkly, now two fingers knuckle deep in your cunt. he wastes no time to plunge himself inside, knuckles rubbing at your velvety walls. you clamp down on his digits, desperate to keep him in for the sake of that orgasm you craved. “and here i was ready to put this pretty pussy in my mouth. you’re dickless for a few days and catch an attitude wimme? that’s cold, baby.”

“dickless?” you cock a brow, teeth gritting as you focus all your energy left on delivering your next line. he always got so cocky whenever he had a slight advantage. “a-according to who—ooh, god, shit!”

“ooh god, shit!” gojo mocks you, a third finger now joining the others. he scissors your cunt open, the slick of your arousal simplifying the slide in. you’re dripping down to his palm, so wet despite the front you’re putting up. he knows you love it whenever he angles his fingers at this angle, the one that has you knees weak and ready to fold. “face it sweets, i’m the only one who treats this pussy the way it deserves. see how well she responds to me?”

and you wish you could negate or deny him, but unfortunately, you both know he’s correct. he’s only got his fingers inside of you and you’re already at your limit. your hips eagerly chase his fingers whenever he pulls out just to thrust them back in, the pad of his thumb drawing infinity signs at your clit. your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, knot in your tummy tightening from the stimulation.

“nghhh, ‘m gonna cum,” your hand slides down the slope of his forearm till where his wrist begins. you claw at the bone, clutching and grabbing at him eagerly. damn him and his damned fingers— driving you to mush with all six inches. “more, hah, need more— gimme more!”

“manners, pretty baby.” gojo coos at your ear, despite upping his pace. his hands reach all the right spots, pussy desperate to hold out to his fingers as they fuck your cunt open, soaking the digits in your slick. “c’mon girl, what’s the magic word? i know you’ve got it in you.”

“p-please! pleasepleaseplease—” you’re cut off by your own gasp as the dam in your stomach finally breaks. you leak on his fingers, squirting your juices as your muscles convulse, walls entrapping him in. your back arches away from him and you grasp at anything in your reach, your mouth gaped. you’re cussing like a sailor, vision blacked out beneath your eye lids as your hips twitch and stutter against gojo’s ruthless pace.

your high washes down, as you lose feeling in your limbs, falling face down to the desk. your skin is moist with heat, mouth parted as drool coats the abandoned paperwork beneath you. your body twitches with oversensitivity, thighs quaking as your last few spurts spray all over gojo’s thigh.

“don’t tell me you’re all worn out from a little foreplay?” your boss teases, his free hand delivering a blow onto your ass cheek. it recoils as you jolt, snivelling like a baby. you hear the sound of his belt unbuckling, slacks falling next and pooling at his ankles. the next few moments happen in a blur, but sooner than you’d realized, you’d been turned onto your back with your legs propped over his shoulders and your folds were being played with again, the overstimulation having your toes curling in your heels.

“anddd there we go,” gojo strokes at his bricked cock, your essence serving as lube to coat his dick. he drags his fist from the base of his shaft to the tip, both your fluids and his pre cum mixture softening the jerk. “you fuckin’ water park. jeez, maybe i should plug this tiny cunt to prevent any further leakage, yeah?”

“fucking hurry already!” you don’t whine, or so you hope, though the grip of your legs at the back of his neck does tighten. with your skirt hiked up and your panties pushed to the side, gojo has a clear view of your twitching pussy, a hole designated intentionally just for him. he can already feel the cum in his balls ready to burst and fill your womb.

“and back to mouthy she goes,” he chuckles, using the leverage of his hand at his cock to slap his dick at your folds. the impact causes you to whimper, your hands clutching at the border of the desk. you wish you could wipe that smirk off his face, but fuck if the way he didn’t rub himself against you arouse you in ways that would surely haunt you after the orgasmic high faded away.

“take a deep breath for me baby, kay?” gojo instructs, thumb brushing over the skin above your hip bone, and before you’re able to retaliate, he slides in his dick.

his length is nothing to scoff at, and although you’ve already dealt with it in the past, all that prepping he’d done earlier seemed in vain. he bottoms out quickly, balls deep into you cunt. both your moans blend in harmony, overlapping one another as you settle with the aching stretch. your pussy clenches around his cock uncontrollably, both eager to push and pull him away.

“shittttt,” he whines throatily despite the huge grin on his lips. the flush pampering his skin has gotten significantly deeper, pale brows furrowed to the centre of his forehead. his hands grip at your plush thighs, fingers digging deep into your skin, surely enough to leave bruises. the bastard— he knew you’d be forced to wear your own slacks tomorrow to avoid suspicions.

“no fuckin’ way ‘m already set to bust— hah, fuck, what in the magical pussy is this?” gojo groans, snowy hair bouncing with his head thrown back. the tighter you grip at his cock, the tighter he grips at your thighs and the deeper his breaths are.

you push yourself up to your elbows, giggling at the irony of the situation. “already huh? so it wasn’t the liquor’s fault last time.” surely you were no better, entirely stimulated and body excreting all kinds of fluids from all over, but the ball was now in your court, and you planned on taking advantage. “s-should’ve known.”

naturally, he doesn’t rise to your bait, instead moving his hips away from yours, slowly dragging his cock out until the only part left in your cunt is his pink tip. “don’t make me make you eat your words, sweets.”

you raise your hand and rest it right above his pelvis, eyes set straight on his. you’re both clearly eager and ready to go, but you still had your dignity to uphold. you drag your palm upwards his torso, nails trailing up his button-up top teasingly before clutching at his tie. with the strength left in you, you yank him down and closer to you.

the shift in position stirs his dick in your cunt, knees now pressed closer to your chest. he hovers over you, a newfound look in his eyes you aren’t ready to divulge into—he was a very expressive man after all. both your lips ghosts one over another, breaths hot and mingling. you feel fuzzy, all senses fucked but collectively drawing at a same conclusion: wanting him to fuck your brains out on this desk.

“fuckin’ hell that was sexy.” it almost comes off a whisper, his tone breathless as his eyes bare deep into your. you feel the warmth of his hands fading away in favour to cup at your waist.

you tilt your head to the side, nose grazing against his. your fingers fiddle with the hem of his tie, despite never breaking the eye contact. “you gonna rock my world now?”

nothing more has to be said as he engulfs your mouth into his, knocking the wind out of you. his tongue explores the warm cave of your mouth, no inch left untouched. you moan and kiss him back just as eagerly, sliding the hand from his neck tie to his nape. your fingers thread through his soft locks, nails scratching his scalp and tugging at the roots.

he whimpers pathetically, the pain sending courses of arousal straight to his dick as his hips slam right back against yours. his thrust is rough and deep— leaving you gasping, as he takes the opportunity to kiss you even deeper while simultaneously working on his strokes.

the curve of his cock reaches even deeper than his fingers could manage, rubbing at your gummy walls and stretching them even wider. the sounds of your bodies connecting, your skins slapping, both your fluids mixing— everything felt so wanton, so filthy. he was everywhere, so far in your stomach you swear you could feel him in your throat.

the stretch of his cock at your pussy sent a fiery feeling spreading towards all of your limbs. the squelching of your pussy tightening and clenching at his dick filling the room. he soon picked up his pace, railing into you with every fibre in his body, loving the way your body bounced up in reaction to his thrusts.

“s-shit, oh fuck— don’t stop, ngh, right there!” you begged, throwing your head back against the hard surface. you’d given up on trying to keep your eyes open, the intensity of his dick ramming into your guts so fierce, you’d never felt anything like it.

he takes a sharp inhale of breath, followed by a whiny exhale. you were driving him insane, your sloppy cunt greedily clamping on his dick as if it were its lifeline. “suckin’ me in so tight, shitttt baby, ‘s like you want me to fill this perfect pussy full of my nut.” he dives his tongue deeper into your mouth for extra measure. you’re in a turmoil of multiple emotions at once but you kiss him back— until your lips feel tender and your mouth tastes of his breath.

he was annoyingly intoxicating, whether you wanted to admit it or not. your body spoke every word you were ashamed to say, responding with his own almost too perfectly.

when he slips his thumb to toy at your clit, your toes curl in your shoes and you’re accustomed to the oncoming feeling all too well, nails clawing at his skin. your words come out all fumbled mixed with tongue and drool, “s-satoru, i— ‘m gonna, don’t you stop— fuck ‘s too much— hnng!” you pull away just slightly, eyes all dazed as they roll to the back of your skull.

“shit, oh shit, me too,” he swipes at the drool dribbling past your mouth. from there, he plants more kisses at your skin, nibbling at every inch of you. he’s rutting like a madman, pace unforgiving as he focuses on that same spot that has you mindless. he finds you prettiest when you’re this way— all obedient for him. “my pretty girl— where do i— fuck, where—”

“inside.” as if you’d wanted to kill him, just as quick the word left your lips, he emptied his balls in your cunt. he sobs, his orgasm wracking over his entire body as he slams and fills your pussy full of him. the mixture of sounds is downright sinful, and whether it’d been the focus on your clit or his inhumane stamina, you soon met your similar end.

you cream on his dick once more, legs trembling as your second orgasm washes over you. your mind gone dumb, you do nothing but lay as you take the pounding inflicted on your worn out pussy. with each stroke you see stars, breasts juggling at the match of his pace. it’s damn near painful, but in the best enjoyable way. you feel yourself getting fuller by the second as you spray more of your arousal onto him.

the high eventually comes down for you both, the room reeking of sex. you’re both panting heavily, muscles twitching from overexertion. you couldn’t recall the last time you’d been fucked to the point of a momentary blackout— but you’d be damned if you’d ever let him know. he was too busy crying over your cunt anyways.

after a moment of silence, “. . .shit.”

“what?” you hum tiredly, rubbing the back of your hand to your tired hands. god, you could barely muster enough energy to do just that. what did this man eat?

he skips a few beats, before sheepishly chuckling, the hand that’d once been tracing patterns at the skin of your thighs now moving to your side. your gaze follows his movements, and it’s only when he retracts his hand does your heart sink to your chest.

“we definitely fucked these papers up.”

. . . shit.

io baby.. if you ever end up reading this i did it :c

#rena☆star.#jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n

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aladaylessecondblog · 1 year ago

Text

Faal Hah Wuld, Chapter 13

TW: Blood drinking, our boy Voryn--er, I mean, Torovan, is thirsty

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*nothing is written on the page, but there are several things drawn with a shaky hand. Lines drawn toward but not quite reaching an empty central point, a dim lit cave entrance with a ruined wooden door, and a faceless figure bleeding from a gaping chest wound where part of a lung can be seen--but no heart*

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It had been an accident. Just a slip of his hand when he was taking the bottle from Snow's saddlebag, but despite what was responsible the fact still stood: Torovan was out of blood. He'd refused to stoop to drinking it off the floor--but his need was clear, his hunger evident.

"Take my blood. We've stopped for the night anyway." Sadrith said. It was strange, she knew better than to chance it--but still, she was deadly curious. What did being fed from feel like?

Curiosity killed the cat...but satisfaction brought him back.

"I told you, I don't want your blood." Torovan practically snarled the words, but from the slight shake of his hands Sadrith could tell he was tempted. "Suppose I take too much?"

"I trust you."

Torovan fixed her with a somber look.

"You shouldn't." He paused, and looked over his shoulder, as if at something far away. "You truly shouldn't."

"It's either this or I try to go out and get a rabbit or a deer. That could take time we don't have. I'd rather not come back to find you've drained my horses dry."

She could see that he was struggling to give her another denial. Despite the self-control that had marked him since they'd left Winterhold...maybe he didn't trust himself not to drain her entirely?

Still, Sadrith persisted. She saw no reason why someone with so large a stick up his ass would have trouble controlling himself.

"Take mine," she insisted, "I've already eaten, I'm comfortable, and it'll probably put me right to sleep. You know healing spells, don't you?"

"Of course I do."

The huff she waited for didn't come. When she looked in his direction she saw his lips pressed tightly together. He shut his eye and took a deep, shaky breath.

"Fine." There was a pause where he seemed to struggle with what to say before finally going with, "You should lay down...as you'll become dizzy. Get comfortable. And...loosen your tunic's collar."

Sadrith moved a little closer to the fire. She'd already taken off her armor in preparation to sleep, so loosened her collar as Torovan asked--and waited. He knelt beside her and then leaned down, bracing himself with one arm. She looked to one side--

"Are you sure?" Torovan asked, his lips inches away from her neck.

"I'm sure."

Could you even stop if I said no now?

It was like a pair of tiny daggers in her neck, that bite, and as the blood began to flow Sadrith heard Torovan growl. The pain faded swiftly into a strange numbness, and an almost thrilling feeling of her blood racing through another's veins.

His hand came up, almost cradling her head--his tongue working furiously, throat gulping as quickly as he could get it into his mouth. Feasting, guzzling, like he hadn't seen blood in weeks.

Though Sadrith's heart was racing, her mind was still--not in the way the sword made it, but a beautiful silence. There was no typhoon of thoughts to sort through, no sea of endless fog to fight.

Only a simple subtle command, barely a thought and more of an instinct.

yield your blood

The numbness spread...soothing, calming.

And then--a bewildering flash of images before her eyes. Images, connected to feelings, connected to--

Darkness, with a leaping patch of red-hot light, and a feeling of terrible loneliness.

Mechanical pulsing, stone walls ribbed with white. Blood. Pain.

Purple skies, desperate breathing. Joy, pure JOY

Then, pain. Sadrith struggled to bring her hand to her chest unknowingly. A cramp ran through her chest, tightening, spasming--then searing agony, like it was being clawed open--!

Cold air on her neck, the sound of cursing in her ears. Then, trembling--Torovan's heavy breathing, and the warm glow of a healing spell. After a minute or two Sadrith's vision started to clear.

"Wh't happened?" she mumbled.

He didn't answer.

"Torovan..."

Sadrith sat up, expecting her head to be swimming, her vision still blurry as she got up. Perhaps some dizziness.

But she felt none of that. Her vision was entirely clear, and she saw Torovan, hunched over with one red-grey hand clamped over his mouth as he stared at the ground.

"Are you ill? Did my blood make you sick?"

"We." he forced out, "Are NOT. Doing that. AGAIN."

She was still confused, and kept watching him. "I don't understand. Tell me what happened?"

There was now no lingering pain. A thin veil of trust, a surety that he was worrying over nothing. He feared he would kill her, he didn't, no pain or symptom remained, so her mind was wandering. The only doubts now in her mind were of what she'd seen when he was feeding on her. Was that normal, when one was being bitten by a vampire? Had HE seen something?

She decided not to ask. Supposing he hadn't, this might make her look strange.

"I nearly KILLED you, that's what!" Torovan barked at her. "I told you--warned you--"

"You didn't. I'm FINE," she waved dismissively, "It's just blood, you...you healed me up right."

"You were clutching your chest and groaning about your heart, I don't call that FINE!" He looked back at her, fixing her with a hard glare, a look that made her shrink back. "Why must you be so dismissive of danger? Are you STUPID?"

"I killed the World-Eater, I'm not scared of being sucked dry." Sadrith lay back on the bedroll, and reached up to touch over the place he'd bitten her. "I didn't expect you to take so much, but..."

"I should have remembered your...dragon blood. It...it was..." His hands shook for a moment. "I'm glad the vampire problem is largely taken care of. If they knew what you tasted like--"

Torovan immediately shut his mouth after saying it.

"How about we change the subject?" she asked. "Sort of. Are you sated?"

"Yes. Perfectly so. That's the problem."

Torovan would say no more on the issue, and instead changed the conversation to replenishing their supplies. Sadrith suggested a stop in Riverwood, and he agreed.

#dagoth ur #vampire voryn dagoth #voryn dagoth #separate voryn dagoth & dagoth ur #dragonborn #skyrim #tes #tesblr #fanfiction #elder scrolls

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thunderousone · 1 year ago

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Chapter 10

Summary: Vulnerability and a turn of the tides for Eirene and Vír

TW: profanity, (eventual... it's slow burn get over it) graphic depictions of sex, pain kink, childhood trauma, parental trauma, chronic pain

Rating: 18+, MDNI

Comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated 🤍

masterlist | read it first on ao3

After the moment in his study and the outburst on the field, Vír found himself around Eirene more. He took his meals with Eirene and Lyire most every day, and even made casual conversation. He took to working in the study in the evenings after training, while she watched Lyranth through the glass. It became a routine. One evening, he'd prepared a chamomile tea for her, waiting by the roaring fire when she came to escape for the evening and watch her home from afar.

Though living with Vír got easier, wielding the lightning did not.

The element within her pushed to be let out every day, but she kept it locked away. Each day she would trace the feeling of power from her head to her palms and visualize that locked box.

On a day when Vír was feeling particularly chatty, they sat across the field staring at each other.

"Will it always hurt like this?" She asked quietly. This chronic, unseen pain had settled into her bones. It was with her all the time. She carried it to bed every evening and it followed her onto the field every morning. It was a constant, restless firework show hidden deep within her, an excruciating symphony of sparks.

At its most subtle, the pain was akin to the gnawing bite, unceasingly nipping at the corners of her consciousness. It was like a swarm of fire ants, their tiny, burning fangs burrowing beneath her skin, causing persistent discomfort that went largely unnoticed by the world around her.

Other times, it surged and flared, reminiscent of fierce, untamed lightning storms. Bright bolts of agony lanced through her, leaving behind searing trails of torment in her muscles. It was as though her veins had become channels for raw, unbridled power and threatened to consume her from within.

It was the constant companion she could never escape. Every movement, every breath, was tainted by the relentless pain.

"Yes, though it ebbs and flows. The more you control your emotions, good and bad, the less strain it is on the body," his eyes met hers from a distance and she studied them. At first she thought the dead stare behind his eyes was hatred. And maybe it is to a degree. But what is reflected in his slate gray eyes is pain. Unspoken, truly agonizing pain.

"How old are you? The storms have been going on for centuries where I'm from, surely you've found a way to stop it, or at least keep it controlled?" Eirene kept her voice soft, curious. Careful not to disturb the delicate emotions they each kept locked away.

Vír closed his eyes and his brows pushed together in frustration. "I'm... quite old.," he seemed sad about that fact. "Some elements are harder to control than others. The wild elements like the thunder, lightning, rain, fire, and others are harder to maintain control over. You're holding just a piece of my power right now. One piece of it. Holding all three is like trying to walk a glass filled perfectly to the brim with water from one end of this field to the other. It's almost impossible."

"Is it better now that I have lightning?" Eirene flipped her palms in the air and looked at the tattoos there.

"Much better, for me yes. But now that burden is passed to you," his eyes opened and watched her examining her palms.

"How is it still so bad there? Why is it one person controlling the entire storm?" Watching him sit across from her silently he looked almost like a child with his legs crossed. His skin looked so far in the cool gray light, if he were marble he could be easily cracked with the amount of pressure he's under.

"The storms were forced upon me, a... punishment, so to speak." He winced at having to say these words. It had been so long since he actually told anyone about this, so long since any of this had happened to him that he felt almost removed from it. "My father controlled thunder, my mother controlled lightning. She died giving birth to me, childbirth amongst us is difficult and dangerous. When she died, she passed her magic into me, despite the fact that I was born with an element of my own," He held out a hand, palm up and with a flick of the wrist conjured a tiny gray rain cloud, sprinkling gently into his palm.

"Rain is a much tamer element on its own, one I was meant to wield... They are all much easier to control on their own. But when my mother passed her gift to me... water and lightning don't mix well. And no one had ever wielded two powers at the same time before. And my father was heartbroken. Destroyed. He'd lost his mate, his one true equal in life. And all he had to show for it was a baby that couldn't control the two conflicting powers inside of it, a baby that had stolen her eyes”. Those unfeeling gray eyes slowly opened to meet Erienes.

"So you had rain and lightning, how did you end up with thunder as well?" Eriene didn't dare move from her spot, they were doing a good job keeping their emotions separate from this conversation, she didn't even see a flicker of fog or mist on the ground below him.

"I didn't really know my father growing up," Vír said it so matter of fact, as if it hadn't happened to him, but a story he was telling her. "All I had was this home, these other wielders of similar elements all around. All I had was the pain and isolation," he rolled his neck around, trying to ease the tension that always lingered there at its base.

"I’d see him once a decade, if that. When I reached maturity, I alone had finally gotten a grasp on controlling the two powers inside me. Finally feeling like I could keep my emotions locked away entirely and exist, feeling nothing but the slight ache of the power inside... until my father showed up again. I almost didn't recognize him, but the elements inside me did. He was broken beyond repair without his mate. I could feel the lightning reaching in, leaning into the thunder, trying to break out of my skin to protect me," A single tear rolled down his smooth skin and a small fog began to build underneath his legs. Eirene didn't call attention to it, but she did breathe a little louder in her rhythm, trying to bring him back to breathing in time with her.

"My father brought me out into this field and tried to pry the lightning from me, like trying to pull the roots of an anicent tree from the ground with your bare hands. He tortured me for hours, and as he was the head of the house all anyone could do was watch. He claimed I'd stolen it, the same way I stole my mother's life. He hit me with thunder so terribly it felled the entire forest," His eyes looked beyond Eirene's shoulders to the now thriving pine forest across the verdant green field. "I couldn't take the pain anymore and my lightning lashed back at him. I didn't mean to- I, I tried to keep it locked away but it was ripping through my head, my muscles, every fiber of my soul being torn to shreds."

He was tortured. His fog was getting worse, it looked as if he were sitting a rain cloud, though he didn't shed another tear and not a single expression past his cold unfeeling face. His lips were so full and flushed pink in the humid air he was creating she thought that if he were to ever smile the heavens themselves would weep.

She maintained her audible, rhythmic breathing as she slowly stood up. She tried to be as quiet and slow as possible with her movements. She despised the person sitting in front of her, but her heart broke a little as she watched him breathe. Something in her bones propelled her forward to comfort him. She sat on her knees in front of him, put her hands through the cool wet clouds that gathered at his legs, and placed them firmly on his thighs. "Breathe," she reminded him. She felt her magic lean into him at the touch as if too as trying to touch him. She felt a little slip through but not in jolts or sparks. Just a small current that soothed to the touch, like a purr.

He sucked in air slowly, a practiced motion, doing nothing to calm his mind. Eirene reached one tentative hand out, resting it on his warm cheek. He felt so real, so human. As she touched his face she felt a deep angry rumble shift through him and into her. She choked on the feeling for a moment but left her hand there, trying not to feel the fear that gathered in her.

"The lightning was protecting me from harm, as if it remembered my mother. It shielded me from his final blow... The thunder ripped through me so hard I think my mothers magic graded on as it did. It pulled it from him and it into me. I thought I was going to die from the pain."

"But it didn't," was all Eirene managed to say.

"Unfortunately not...” The storms here contained in his skin a punishment and reminder. And maybe natures way of keeping him from further harm from his father. “The agony was unlike any other that I've felt. I felt the storms gathering inside me like a hurricane and all the years of pushing the rain and lightning down spilled over the top of my perfectly filled glass. Not even Lyire could help me... That was when the storms began in the mortal world as they do now. I’ve not seen my father since. He’s powerless, I heard he spends his time in other kingdoms, pleading for power, for aid to march against me. At least enough to take my mother's magic back."

His gray eyes finally moved to meet hers and she felt an instinctive need to put both of her hands on his face. She didn't know what was pulling her in, it felt like all of her muscles were aching to be near him. She knew he could feel it too as he closed his eyes and let the hum of the elements between them pull their foreheads together in a moment of silence. For a second it was just the two of them breathing in the electric-charged air. Whatever this was, this mutual passed energy, felt good. Natural. It relieved the ache in Eirene slightly and the drop in pressure so good she could have moaned.

After a few minutes, Eirene could feel the damp storm clouds gathering at their feet begin to dissipate, the roaring thunder within him slowing and she removed her hands and forehead from his.

"I see what it's doing to the mortal world, but these emotions were locked away as best I could. I tried everything to stop it... I made myself comatose for a few decades, sleeping constantly, apparently that caused massive flooding. I tried expelling all of the lightning from myself, hoping that it would choose a new wielder. I tried taking my own life, hoping it would branch apart and find three new wielders and ease the burden. The lightning refused to strike me. The Guardians told me that I didn't have a say, none of us do. The elements are wild, I can't ask them to choose someone else."

"But then what happened with me?" She pulled her legs out from under her and sat legs crossed, closer to Vír than she ever allowed herself before. "Obviously I'm alive and I should not be, was I... chosen?" Eirene was scared to ask this. She didn't know what that would mean for her life, her family in Lyranth, any of it.

Vír shook his head and looked her in her eyes. "I don't think so, the elements don't choose humans. You're far too fragile and breakable. Typically for magic to transfer from one wielder to another means something. An unseen bond that brings them together for life. The explanation the Guardians think is that the lightning spared you, it felt pity for your sacrifice in that moment, and instead of ripping through you, it plunged into you as the only way to save you. Protecting you as it did me before. The Guardians seem to think you can wield it or I can coax it out of you and back into myself."

He stood up from where he was sitting and looked down at Eirene sitting on the ground. He reached a hand down to Eirene and she grasped it and stood with him. He held her hand softly for a moment and turned it over in his, exposing where her lightning markings began.

"I'm told my mother had markings just like these."

#ao3 writer #fanfic #sjmaas #skz fanfic #straykids #skz smut #stray kids fanfic #hyunjin #skz stay #acotar #kinktober 2023 #kinktober

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jplupine · 1 year ago

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⛓Feral Possession: Chapter 32⛓

White Bell

Pairing: Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez x Wynter Hughes [Nonbinary OC] Word Count: ~8.4k WARNINGS: 18+ Minors/Ageless get blocked, Exophilia, Demon!Grimmjow, Feral Behavior, Size Difference, Teasing, Marking, Collar, Lingerie, Vaginal Sex, Biting, Praise Kink, Getting Caught, Creampie, Dom!Switch!Grimmjow Note: Terms such as pussy/cock/dick/etc. get used. If that makes you uncomfortable, you may want to skip this fic.

Summary: Some Arrancar are easier to handle than others.

You can also read it on AO3!

Masterlist | Chapter 32:

Drawing my sword from its sheath, I then set the sheath to the side. It was a quiet morning with clear skies and the warm sun shining. It was also finally time to learn how to dematerialize my sword.

Grimmjow stood a few feet away with his arms crossed and his tail swaying. He watched me before sighing through his nose.

"You really want to do this?"

"Yes."

"You realize we'll both be fucked if you lose yourself to the madness, right?"

"I thought only I'd be fucked."

"Your soul would be tainted. You think I want a tainted soul?" He asked, and I rolled my eyes.

"Just tell me what to do."

"Raise your sword and focus."

"Focus on what?"

"Your spiritual energy. How it feels. How it flows through you." Grimmjow came closer before walking in a circle around me to watch. I did as told and took calming breaths while focusing. "Now feel the sword and its components. If you do it right, you should be able to feel your energy as well as all the three demonic powers used during forging. What you'll do is pull your energy back in. The rest of the sword will follow."

Closing my eyes, I was able to focus better as my grip on the sword tightened. A tingle ran across my skin, and I could feel the energy of the sword. Even though there were various energies, they were more like puzzle pieces creating the whole.

"How do I pull it in?" I questioned while feeling Grimmjow walking around me.

"Picture it in your head. Think of the sword's energy returning to you." His tone was calm and steady as I listened. I mentally pictured myself made of energy with a missing piece. I thought about it until the picture was clear, then thought about that missing piece being filled in.

The sword in my hands began to lose substance, feeling almost like smoke between my fingers.

"Focus. I had you train your sensory abilities, you should be able to do this. Feel it." Grimmjow spoke up, and I swallowed while trying harder.

The weight of the sword began to lessen until it was purely smoke gliding across my fingers. When it finally vanished, I opened my eyes.

"....That was anticlimactic." I muttered while looking down at my empty hands.

"Be glad. It could've been way worse." Grimmjow suddenly grabbed my chin to raise my face to get a look at it. As he was looking into my eyes, it sounded as if a bell jingled inside my head before searing pain tore through my body.

I cried out as my hands gripped my shirt over my heart. Falling to my knees, my eyes were wide in agony.

"Wynter! Wynter, what is it?!" Grimmjow was crouched in front of me with his hands raised. I only screamed and doubled over. "Oh, fuck! Come on, fight it! Stay in control!"

It felt as if something was digging into my chest and clawing at my heart. The pain branched out and burned to even the tips of my fingers and toes. My forehead hit the grass as I could no longer hear Grimmjow through the rushing of my own blood.

My breathing became ragged and animalistic. My heart was thumping in my ears and it felt as if my veins might burst. My vision was going red, and I was panicking.

The beast from the Machnamh Anam flashed across my mind.

I couldn't catch a full breath and bared my teeth in pain. I needed to fight the Arrancar essence, but how? My mind was racing but it was so hard to think clearly from the pain.

The representation of my soul came to mind again with its serenity. Its branching antlers and many limbs, eyes with empty sockets above them. Building spiritual energy, I tried to focus on it. Focus on the shape and the corruption coiling within it.

A bell echoed out, and multiple arms wrapped around me. The pain began to ebb away with each breath. I could feel a comforting warmth surrounding me as something touched my cheek.

I was finally able to sit up and took deep breaths. I found myself wrapped in the chimera creature's translucent arms as it had its head resting against mine. Each breath felt better than the last and came easier.

I may not be certain what the fuck was going on, but I knew it was working to push back the corruption of the demonic energy. I didn't stop until the last of the pain was gone, and the chimera began to fade into nothing.

Looking over, I saw Grimmjow sitting in the grass as if he'd fallen back, and his eyes were wide.

"I think it's passed." I muttered before swallowing.

"Wynter....you just did Soul Magick."

"Did I?" I questioned, and he held up his hand to show that it was badly burned from coming into contact with it.

"That thing.... Is that what you saw at the Soul Society?"

"You're making it seem as if what I just did was bad."

"You just performed a spell no one has taught you while on the brink of death." Grimmjow looked at me before his head fell back with a heavy sigh. But then he began to laugh. "I've created a monster." He didn't actually seem upset which only slightly comforted me.

"The Hell are you talking about?"

"Training you." He then looked at me again with amusement. "I've given you access to more power than you could imagine. Usually, when an exorcist performs Soul Magick, their soul doesn't become visible. But yours is just so fucking dense...." His pupils narrowed as he trailed off. "I knew I wanted you for a reason."

"So....am I good? I'm not gonna, like, lose it in a second, am I?" My brows knit together as my grip on my shirt tightened.

"More than good." Grimmjow's ears were perked up as he swung forward to crawl toward me. "I should've known when you said you broke off Lagarto's horn and melted his face."

"Known what?"

"Had things been different for you.... Had your uncle raised you knowing about the reality of our world and taken you to the Soul Society.... Wynter, you're an Arrancar's natural fucking enemy." Grimmjow was grinning madly as his face was inches from mine. "And you're all mine."

"....I'm getting some serious mixed messages here."

"How do you feel?" His eyelids went down halfway as he tilted his head and observed me.

"Fine, honestly. But I can feel the essence of the sword deep inside." I replied while looking down at my hands.

"Good. Now leave it there a little while. We need to make sure it won't try to infect you again."

"Is it normal to be so exhausted after?"

"No, but you just dealt with my powerful energy and used strong Soul Magick." Grimmjow swiftly scooped me up into his arms and looked down at me as he stood. "You'll need some rest before you try pulling it back out."

"And what does that have to do with you picking me up?"

"You said you were exhausted." He gave no further explanation as he walked toward the back door to go inside. "What? You think you would be too heavy for me to carry?"

"That's not what I was thinking at all."

"Good." He paused as he slid the back door closed with his foot. "What were you thinking then?"

"That my king is capable of such kindness."

"Want me to drag you next time?"

"I'm not making fun of you." I stated while placing my hand on his cheek to make him look at me. "I like it." I then kissed him as he was going upstairs. His ears flicked, and I raised my eyebrows. "Now, could you explain how I'm an Arrancar's natural enemy?"

"Souls like yours are hard to come by because they are usually eaten in childhood. Your uncle being an exorcist and casting that spell on your soul kept you alive long enough for your soul to mature." Grimmjow went down the hallway to the bedroom while actually answering my question rather than being a smartass. "Souls like yours are coveted by the Soul Society, and many of the highest-ranking exorcists are like you. But because of how the Soul Society functions, I now believe that is the real reason your uncle hid you from them." He sighed through his nose while climbing onto the bed. "That's also likely the reason he left you the house. He knew the spell would break when he died, and you'd eventually get a grasp on your power. However, I don't think he took into account me being able to project."

"So I have a rare soul? How does that make me your natural enemy?" I asked as he laid down with me still in his arms.

"Since we Arrancar don't war against any specific deity, we have fewer weaknesses than most other demons. An exorcist has to get a deity to directly intervene to hurt us or use their own spiritual energy, which they are limited on. You, however, have a fuck ton of spiritual energy despite so little training in comparison. Had you been a part of the Soul Society this entire time, you'd probably be at the same rank as Sajin. But having been trained by me...." He waved two fingers while looking at me. "You did a speedrun through what they would've spent years teaching you. And having as much spiritual energy as you do makes you more capable of fighting Arrancars than almost any other exorcist."

It was quiet for a moment as his words sunk in. It explained a lot of things if I were being honest. From Ichigo's concern of me sensing him the first night he came here, how Lagarto reacted to me, to even Tigre. Given it took Grimmjow this long to figure it out, it didn't seem like Arrancars could actually tell. They just sensed a powerful soul they wanted to devour.

Looking down at Grimmjow's hand as I gently held it, I ran my thumb over his knuckles.

"Does knowing this change anything?"

"How do you mean?"

"....Are you worried what I might do to you?"

"I've said it enough times, Wynter. You're mine." His nose brushed mine before he gently bumped our foreheads together. "I've always known you have a strong soul. Now I know just how strong it is."

"What about your hand?"

"I'm already healing. Don't worry about it. How're you doing?"

"Fine. It still feels weird though." Lacing my fingers with his, Grimmjow let me continue to hold his hand as we cuddled. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me, Little Rabbit. You know I'm doing this for me."

"Not entirely." I muttered while watching my thumb caress the side of his hand.

"Why? 'Cause I like you?" Grimmjow scoffed.

"Yes." I chuckled, and he didn't argue. "Can I ask you something?"

"Hm?"

"You saw my soul...."

"And what's the question?"

"Did it look odd to you? You've seen a lot of souls in your time, so I was wondering."

"I've never seen anything like it." His tone was steady as he looked at our intertwined hands. "I get why they wanted you checked for corruption. It having that skull can be a bad sign."

"Is it?"

"I don't think so." Grimmjow muttered as his brows furrowed more. "I didn't sense anything dark from it."

"So I should be okay?"

"Yes, you should. Now get some rest. You can ask more questions later." Grimmjow stated, and I softly sighed through my nose. Cuddling closer, I closed my eyes and let the exhaustion take over as I drifted off to sleep.

Taking a drink from my coffee, I was getting some work done while Grimmjow was laying across the desk behind my laptop. He was keeping a close eye on me, but so far, nothing adverse had happened. It was looking as if I truly could handle the Arrancar essence in my sword now. We were going to try to pull it back out later which was supposed to be easier.

"What do you feel like having for dinner?" I questioned while setting my mug back down.

"Macaroni." Grimmjow responded as his tail boredly curled and uncurled.

"With chicken or the ground meat?"

"The ground meat."

"That settles that." I muttered while glad that dinner plans had been figured out so easily.

"I can make it if you want." Grimmjow said while inspecting his claws nonchalantly.

"All right."

"But you have to ask me." He looked at me with a little smirk. Quirking up a brow at him, I saw that he was being serious. Leaning on my desk, I placed my jaw in my hand with my elbow on the desk.

"Could you cook dinner?"

"With manners." Grimmjow raised his eyebrows, and I quietly scoffed.

"Could you cook dinner, please?"

"Yes." He seemed a little proud as he closed his eyes and had a cocky grin. I couldn't help but smile while looking at him. It was cute when he was this transparent.

He'd been rather attentive all day, and I appreciated it. It also showed me that he did care enough to do such things for me.

Leaning forward, I pecked his nose. Grimmjow opened his eyes to look at me as his ear flicked. Tilting up his chin a little, I gave him a brief kiss on the lips.

"Thank you, Grimmjow."

"Oi."

"Hm?"

"Thank me again." His tail curled, and I chuckled.

Sitting on the floor while leaning against the wall near a window, I had one hand typing away on my laptop while the other was running through Tigre's hair. He was purring with his head resting on my lap while soaking up the sunlight coming through the window. Grimmjow was grumpy about it, but a deal was a deal.

Tigre had been giving more information off and on, and I was taking notes of everything he said. I was asking more about Fracciónes since The Hollow Ones book focused more on the Espada. If Tigre was lying or not, I wasn't sure, but given Grimmjow the Grouch hadn't corrected him, I assumed he was being honest.

"Do you also have a Resurrección form as well?" I asked while rubbing behind Tigre's ear.

"Yes." He answered while purring and tilting his head to give me easier access to his ear.

"What does it look like?" I'd already read the description of his Resurrección in the book, but I wanted to ask him regardless as he was a primary source.

"Hold on." He replied before his skin began to darken and his body got larger. My eyes widened since he was transforming with his head still on my lap. Tigre's clothes tore from his body's growth, and fur sprouted over his skin.

His fangs hung past his chin now while stripes patterned his fur. His nose was two slits on his short snout, and he had a short mane going down his neck. Sharp spikes went down his spine that almost looked like blades, and he was nearly as big as Grimmjow's Resurrección. Tigre's long whiskers wiggled as I still had my hand on his head.

"Are all Arrancar animalistic?" I questioned while rubbing Tigre's ear again.

"Not all. Most are." Grimmjow grumbled while still sitting on my desk. I was taking notes of Tigre's features since I was capable of getting a much better look at him compared to exorcists during battle.

"So Arrogante really is skeletal?"

"Sort of. His majesty's form can vary just like ours." Tigre's voice rumbled, and I was shocked that he could talk with his feline mouth.

"You can still talk?"

"Of course." He draped a large, paw-like hand onto my knee and rubbed his head into my hand as I scratched between his horns.

"Does that mean how your mouth is is why you can't?" I directed my question at Grimmjow, and he rested his cheek in his hand with his elbow on his knee.

"I can't shape sounds with just fangs."

"That makes sense." I muttered while lifting Tigre's top lip to get a look at his teeth. They were sharp but not like Grimmjow's.

Tigre lifted his head and nuzzled my cheek while purring. However, Grimmjow's low growl cut across the room as he warned the other demon. Tigre looked right at him and shape-shifted back into his usual form. While still maintaining eye contact with Grimmjow, Tigre licked my cheek.

I blinked and heard a loud crash. Whipping my head to the side, I saw the two demons had crashed through the window and were fighting in the backyard. Tigre quickly shifted to not get utterly beaten by the Sexta Espada.

Grimmjow also shifted into his Resurrección form and swiped at Tigre. The large beasts fighting in my yard were making a lot of noise, and I scrambled to my feet to get them to stop.

"Pantera! Pantera, stop!" I yelled, and Grimmjow already had Tigre pinned while shoving his face into the dirt. Grimmjow looked ferocious with his hair standing on end to make himself look even bigger and his ears were flat against his skull.

His jaws parted with drool stretching between his fangs as his head lowered toward Tigre's neck. His growling shook the air, and I grabbed the window frame to climb outside.

"Grimm!" I shouted with a warning tone, and his ears flicked forward. He froze but was clearly a tightly wound coil ready to spring. Trying to quickly get around the broken glass without stepping on any, I managed to not cut myself. "Grimm, back off! Now!" Grimmjow looked at me while still growling as his grip on Tigre's head tightened, and the demon on the ground yowled. "Don't make me say it."

Grimmjow narrowed his eyes, but I didn't budge. He slowly let go of Tigre's skull, and the smaller demon still didn't move. My heart was pounding since I wasn't sure what would happen next.

I swallowed, and he moved away from Tigre while coming toward me. His body began to shrink before he reached me. Grimmjow grabbed my jaw and licked my cheek where Tigre had. He then rubbed his cheek against mine to get his scent on me.

I sighed with relief and just let Grimmjow rub his face on me since it was distracting him from Tigre and getting him to calm down. Tigre pushed himself off the ground as he was shifting forms and looked angry. However, he had caused this by testing Grimmjow while knowing the demon was aggressive and territorial.

"You're not off the hook, either." Grimmjow muttered near my ear. "You're too fucking lax around him."

"He won't actually do anything with you here. I'm also not weak anymore." I replied, and Grimmjow nipped my jaw.

"Missing the fucking point." He softly growled, and I glanced over at Tigre. His brows were deeply furrowed as he was watching us, but he didn't look angry anymore. Instead, he looked confused and intrigued. His rounded ears were perked to attention in our direction as well.

"You treat this one differently." Tigre stated, and Grimmjow looked over his shoulder at the other demon.

"What?"

"You've claimed souls before, but you never treated them like this."

"This one's special." Grimmjow stated as his lips curled into a devilish smirk. "They're fucking delicious."

"No. It's more than that." Tigre rose to his feet as his tail swayed. "You actually care. This one is more than a meal to you." He then placed his hands on his hips while looking right at me. "Don't think whatever trickery you've used on Pantera will work on me. I will remain loyal to his majesty!"

"Yeah, whatever. Cool. Can we just go back inside before one of my neighbors decides to peek over the fence and see you two naked in my yard?" I questioned, and Grimmjow growled at Tigre one last time before we returned to the office. Once they were clothed, I went back to getting information from Tigre with Grimmjow pouting the entire time.

Walking down the sidewalk with Dagur, I saw a woman with her green hair in twin buns walking in the opposite direction and getting closer. Moving to the side to make room, I noticed she had headphones on and had a bounce in her step while dancing a little. Dagur paid her little mind, and she didn't even seem to really notice us since her eyes were closed.

The woman ended up accidentally hitting my shoulder as she passed from her dancing, and she gasped with her eyes popping wide open.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to do that." She cringed and took her headphones off. However, as soon as she had, her expression seemed to shift in the slightest. I could also sense strong spiritual energy from her, and I waved my hand.

"Don't worry about it. It was an accident."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." I chuckled before waving over my shoulder while walking away. "Just try to pay attention while you're having fun. Wouldn't want you to get hurt." I said also as a genuine warning. Given what I sensed from her, I knew she could potentially be a target for demons. But given I wasn't sure whether or not she was an exorcist or just a civilian, I wouldn't say anything more.

Dagur led the way down the sidewalk as we neared home. However, about a few blocks away, I felt as if I was being watched. I looked around but didn't see anyone. Furrowing my brows, I couldn't shake the feeling even though no one was in sight.

Sighing, I decided to head home anyways. If I was truly being followed, I'd be safest there where a sleeping Espada resided and I could freely wield my sword.

Going up to my front door, I unlocked it and let Dagur loose once inside. Taking my shoes off, I went about business as usual and looked around the kitchen to figure out what was for dinner. It only took a few minutes before there was a knock at the door.

Pausing, I looked at the door while debating if I should really open it. Had my feeling been accurate, there was no telling what would be on the other side.

Taking a calming breath, I decided to open it. Surprisingly, the green-haired woman stood there while looking down at me. Her expression was serious and displeased.

"Where is he?" Her tone was steady and cold unlike earlier.

"Who?" I asked, and she lowered her head while stepping forward and forcing her way into the house.

"I can smell him on you, mortal. What did you do to him?" Her scleras went black, and Dagur started barking with his hackles raised. "You're an exorcist, aren't you? Give him back now, and I won't hurt you." She had a warning tone as she slammed the door shut.

"Back off, Gamuza." Grimmjow's voice came from behind me, and the woman's gaze shot to him.

"Pantera. You're....not bound." She seemed confused, and I swallowed.

"Another Arrancar?" I questioned, and Grimmjow grabbed the back of my shirt to pull me behind him.

"Former Tres Espada." He had a serious tone, and my eyes widened. The woman looked at us with a blank expression before she stood up straight with crossed arms.

"So the rumors are true."

"What rumors?"

"There's been whispers you hadn't been killed but had been living among humans instead."

"Human. Singular." Grimmjow corrected.

"So I see. Does that make this the one with a magick touch?" She looked right at me, and I knew how the rumors started.

"I told Tigre it wasn't magick."

"So it's not true?" Her attention was still on me, and Grimmjow leaned to the side to block me from her vision.

"What do you want, Gamuza?"

"I caught your scent on the tiny one. I came to rescue you."

"I don't need rescuing."

"Clearly." She glanced around the house. "But since when were you one for....this?" Gamuza gestured to her surroundings, and Grimmjow was on edge.

"Go away, Gamuza. What I'm doing here doesn't concern you." Grimmjow had a warning tone, and the woman gasped.

"Don't tell me you've actually become interested in humans!" She then seemed to light up and shake her fists. "Oh, you have to tell me your favorite things! They make such interesting stuff!" She nearly squealed with excitement before shoving Grimmjow out of the way to get to me. "Hi! Sorry about scaring you, I made the wrong assumption. You can call me Nel!" She held out her hand as if in greeting.

I hesitated but took her offered hand. She gently shook it and let it go without attacking me.

"Oh, you seem so confused. I bet that grumpy bum never mentioned me, huh?"

"....He doesn't often talk about the other Espada."

"Former Espada." Grimmjow snarled while pushing Nel back to get between us again.

"C'mon, relax. You know I'm not gonna hurt your new toy. I like humans too much!"

"You like humans?" I questioned while leaning over to see around Grimmjow.

"Yup! I find your kind fascinating!"

"Don't even think about it." Grimmjow grabbed my face just as I was opening my mouth.

"Don't think about what?" Nel asked, and I grabbed Grimmjow's tail to make him jolt and let my face go.

"I'm trying to study Arrancar. Pantera's been my main subject, but recently Tigre pops in occasionally to let me study him as well."

"Really? He's your main subject?"

"I own them." Grimmjow growled while pushing me behind him again. "So fuck off."

"Oh, I see." Nel giggled, and the next thing I knew, Grimmjow was flying over the back of the couch. The woman grabbed me before pulling me into a tight hug with my face shoved between her breasts. "Aww, aren't you just adorable?! You smell so good, too. Oh-ho, looks like you have more than just a scientific interest in Arrancars." Nel added after seeing the hickies on the side of my neck.

"N-Nel-" I tried pushing her back to get some space, and Grimmjow's growling cut through the air before he came flying at the former Tres Espada. She simply ducked while dipping me, and Grimmjow crashed into the cabinets.

"I like humans, you like Arrancars. Why don't we study each other?" Nel grinned before Grimmjow grabbed one of her buns and yanked her back. "Ow! Ow, ow, ow, ow!"

"No. Touching." Grimmjow snarled, and Nel pouted.

"I'm no soul thief!"

"I don't care." He was flashing his fangs while looking pissed off. "Remember your place, Gamuza. You're a former Espada. I'm a current one. And that one," Grimmjow pointed at me as his tail flicked with agitation. "is mine." He growled, and Nel glanced between the demon and I.

Her eyes began to widen as she covered her mouth with her hand.

"My Hell. You fell in love with a mortal?" She muttered, and Grimmjow's ears perked up. It was silent for a few seconds before Grimmjow burst into mad laughter.

"The fuck? You get knocked on the head too many times?" He had to hold his stomach from how hard he was laughing. "I meant it literally, you idiot!"

"Oh. So like a pet?" Nel tilted her head.

"Yes. They're my pet-" Grimmjow stopped because of me throwing a couch cushion at the back of his head.

"Fuck you! I am not a pet! If anyone's a pet here, it's you, ya lazy fuck!" I yelled while feeling my cheeks burning from embarrassment. I grabbed another cushion, and Grimmjow looked so confused.

"The fuck is your problem?!"

"I think you hurt their feelings, Pantera." Nel loudly whispered.

"Like Hell I did."

"You did!" I raised the cushion to throw it, and Grimmjow looked shocked. "I put up with so much of your shit, and you still go and- Ugh!" I threw the cushion at his face, but he of course caught it before lowering it to look at me.

"W-Wait a minute-"

"Fuck you!" My hands balled into fists at my sides, and his ears turned back.

"Little Rabbit-"

"I'm going to my room. Don't fuck up my house." My tone cut deep as I went for the stairs. Grimmjow was still clutching the couch cushion while Nel stood beside him awkwardly.

Shutting my bedroom door, I leaned against it and slid down to the floor. Bringing my knees up to my chest, I heavily sighed. I knew exactly why I had overreacted, but I couldn't say it out loud. I could be honest that my feelings were hurt, but not why.

Holding my head as I rested my forehead against my knees, I tried to think of a way to fix this. I couldn't tell Grimmjow the truth. He clearly wasn't capable of hearing it.

The room was dark when Grimmjow poked his head in. From how quiet he was being, I could assume he was thinking I'd be asleep. However, when he saw me sitting on the bed, his ears turned back. He opened his mouth, but I spoke first.

"I'm sorry about my outburst. I've been under a lot of stress lately, and I hope you can understand." I said, and Grimmjow entered the room fully.

"So....what? That was just weird human shit?"

"Let's say I was having some complicated feelings I couldn't handle at the time." Standing up, I crossed the room and slid my fingers into the fur collar of his shirt.

"....What's on your mouth?" He questioned as I pulled him down to my level. Kissing him until he was purring, I then pulled away and saw that his lips were now black like mine. He didn't even know, and I kissed down his throat and exposed chest. Each kiss left a set of black lips on his skin

Grimmjow finally noticed when I was kissing down his chest. He paused while glancing at the marks, and I looked up at him.

"I can't mark you like you can mark me." My hand went up the back of his neck and into his hair. "I'm yours....and you're mine." I licked his cheek, and Grimmjow's purr was loud and rumbling.

"Does this mean you're not still mad?"

"I'm not." Taking his hand in mine, I leaned down to kiss his wrist and left black lipstick there as well that was impossible to see due to his black skin. However, he changed that by turning into his human form just to make it visible. I smirked and pulled him toward the bed by his furry shirt collar.

"I'm yours, am I?" Grimmjow tilted his head while not even once looking away from me.

"Yes, you are." I kissed his chest to leave another mark on his scar. "I knew you'd like this." I chuckled while glancing down at his already hard cock straining in his pants.

"You want me so badly you'd go to such lengths just to leave your mark on me. How could I not like that?" Grimmjow smirked while reaching for the belt of my robe. "I think I should return the favor." He pushed the robe off my shoulders to let it drop to the floor.

He paused at seeing what I was wearing underneath, and he didn't blink for a long time. His gaze went from the black and silver collar to the lace and silk top that was barely more than a band going across my chest. Grimmjow tilted his head to look down at the lacy panties and black thigh-highs.

"This is a trap." He muttered but couldn't look away.

"Sure is, kitty cat." I tilted up his chin to kiss him before turning around to crawl onto the bed. Grimmjow now saw the panties were crotchless and had a puffy, bunny tail on the back while I was on my hands and knees in front of him.

"What do you want?" Grimmjow asked while his fingers twitched like flexing claws from fighting the urge to pounce.

"You to say you're mine." I replied while looking over my shoulder to see his eyes glued on the bunny tail and my ass.

"You're mine." His voice was getting huskier and lower.

"You know what I mean, Grimmjow." I was impressed by his self-control since he was still standing by the bed without me using magick to keep him there. Turning around to slide my hands up his stomach while pushing his shirt off, I softly sighed. "We both know it's true. So let me hear you say it." My lips brushed across his.

Grimmjow looked as if he was in a trance with his blown pupils as he followed me closely. I traced slow circles on his chest over his heart while waiting for an answer.

"That's really what you want?"

"Yes. You know how much you like hearing me say it to you, right? Well, I like to hear it, too." I could see it in his eyes that something clicked for him. "So....will you say it? For me?"

Grimmjow suddenly pounced and kissed me in a way that had the lipstick smearing. He shoved his pants down before hiking my thighs up onto his hips. My fingers slid into his hair before pulling.

Lipstick was smeared on his mouth, and I kissed down the other side of his neck as he ground his hips into mine. Grimmjow's breath faltered near my ear with his fingers pressing firmly into my skin.

"I'm yours." Grimmjow whispered while purring deep in his chest.

"Louder." I kissed along his collarbone and waited.

"I'm yours." He then flipped me over with my ass in the air. He grabbed my hips and thrust inside. "I'm yours." Grimmjow groaned while balls deep. "I'm yours. Fuck, I'm yours." He was eagerly thrusting as my hands gripped tightly to the blanket beneath me.

"Good boy." I smiled before moaning and could feel the bunny tail bouncing against my ass from the impact of each thrust.

"You make my blood boil." Grimmjow panted as his grip on my hips tightened. "I think I like it." He then scoffed and groaned. "No, I definitely like it. Fuck."

"Mmph~!" I bit my bottom lip as my thighs twitched.

"This little tail bouncing around is adorable. Makes me want to devour you." He growled, and I shivered in delight. "Does it feel good, Wynter?"

"Yes." I panted and swallowed before moaning from him thrusting and hitting such a sensitive spot.

"Then praise your king." I felt him nip my shoulder and lick the bite to soothe it.

"You're doing so good." I couldn't help but smile. "It feels fuckin' amazing. Please don't stop, my king." He groaned and bit me again. "I love it so much. No one else could touch me like you do."

"That's fucking right." Grimmjow panted while going harder. "You're mine. All fucking mine." His nails dug into my sides, adding a pleasurable sting to the mix of sensations. "I-" He suddenly froze, and I didn't know why until he yelled. "Get the fuck out of here, bitch!"

Looking up, I saw Nel crouching on the window sill outside with her hands over her mouth and her cheeks were bright red.

"Oh, my fucking Hell." I muttered, and Grimmjow still held me in place while buried deep in my pussy.

"That's not a pet, you stinking liar!" Nel hollered from the other side of the window.

"Who gives a shit?! I'm allowed to fuck humans!"

"You're doing more than just fucking!" Nel pointed, and I saw how her bottom canines were almost like tusks now that she wasn't in human form.

"Fuck off!" Grimmjow threw a pillow at the window, making Nel jolt before it fell to the floor. When he saw she still hadn't left, he raised his hand as a ball of red light formed, and Nel's eyes widened.

"Wait, P-Pantera-!" She waved her hands, and the light shot right at her and destroyed the window. I heavily sighed while dropping my face into my hands as I heard Nel screeching insults as she ran away.

"You did not just fucking break another window."

"What?! She wouldn't leave!"

"That's the second one this month!" I waved my hand, and Grimmjow growled as the singed curtains billowed in the warm night breeze.

"Whatever. You wanna keep bitching? Have at it." He grabbed my collar as his breath hit the side of my neck and shoulder. "I'll fuck you either way."

"Grimm-" I was cut off by my own moan from him rocking his hips back and slamming into me. I was nearly winded from the inhuman pace he set while grunting and growling over me.

"What's that? I didn't hear you with all the moaning." I knew the demon had a shit-eating grin from his tone, and the grip he had on the collar added pressure against my throat. "Careful, Little Rabbit. You might wake up the entire fucking neighborhood." He licked the shell of my ear and nipped

I tried to be quieter with the blasted open window being so close to the bed, but that was easier said than done when Grimmjow had my weak spots memorized.

I should've known after what happened at the bar that he wouldn't care about getting caught in the act. I also should've known it would happen eventually with how these demons didn't give a shit about using the front door or respecting privacy.

Laying on the bed while relaxing with cum smeared and spilling down my thighs, I no longer cared about the broken window. Grimmjow was standing in the light of the bathroom and admiring all the black lipstick marks on his skin in the mirror. They were mostly concentrated around his throat and chest, but there were some littered across his torso and thighs.

He had a cocky grin on his black-smeared lips while absolutely loving the way he looked. There was even a smeared ring of lipstick on his dick from him making me reapply the lipstick before giving him oral. He'd nearly gone feral from seeing the marks collecting on his skin while we were still having sex, but he'd calmed down now to simply look at them.

"You done yet? I need a shower." I tiredly sighed while still laying on my stomach. Grimmjow looked my way with a lopsided grin. "What?"

"I like this more than I thought I would. You can go ahead and shower, Little Rabbit." He came out of the bathroom and smacked his hand against my ass hard enough to sting. I jolted with a yelp, and he began to massage the already-forming handprint. "You got any other little outfits like this hidden away?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" I popped off while pushing myself up from the bed. "Get a clean blanket, would you?" Pecking him on the lips, he purred and watched as I walked to the bathroom to shower. I didn't bother with shutting the door and turned on the shower to let it warm up.

Pulling my hair free of the two bands tying it down, I then reached back to undo the lacy top. As I was getting undressed, my mind wandered. Distracting Grimmjow to keep him from asking about what happened earlier had worked as expected. However, I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep the truth to myself if that was how he was going to act.

While in the shower, I was still so lost in thought until the curtain pulled back and Grimmjow stepped in. He was still in human form and covered in lipstick marks that began to run with the water. Without saying a word, he wrapped his arms around me with his chin resting on my shoulder.

"What's up?" I questioned, and he didn't respond at first.

"You think I'm stupid?" He muttered as his hair was clumping from getting soaked.

"What?"

"I know when you lie to me, Little Rabbit." Grimmjow's tone was low and steady, and my heart picked up pace. "I also know when you try to hide things from me."

"....You wouldn't understand."

"Try me." His nose brushed along my jaw. "You usually tell me exactly what I did that pissed you off, but you didn't this time. You're trying to hide it."

"You can tell that much but not why I got upset?" I scoffed while shaking my head. "That's exactly why I can't tell you. It'd only hurt more if I said anything now."

"What's the supposed to mean?" Grimmjow asked while nuzzling into my neck and shoulder.

"It means you still have more to figure out about emotions."

"How do you know I can't handle it?"

"Your actions."

"Wynter-"

"Please. Just....not right now."

"....Will you tell me eventually?"

"Yeah. Eventually." I softly sighed, and he gently kissed my neck.

"By the way, I went ahead and fixed the window."

"You did?" My brows furrowed as I looked at Grimmjow.

"Yeah. Didn't want you yelling at me again." He replied, and I brushed my knuckles across his cheek.

"Thank you. But how are we going to deal with Nel? I get the feeling she's not one to keep her mouth shut."

"You think I give a shit if the others find out I'm having sex with a mortal?" Grimmjow leaned into my hand as I cupped his cheek.

"I'm not just a mortal, though. I'm an exorcist."

"You're also not part of the Soul Society. And I own you. You belonging to me on its own changes things, Little Rabbit."

"I just don't know if I can handle more Arrancars popping up here."

"Don't you want to study us?"

"I do. But that doesn't mean I want my privacy invaded by demonic peeping Toms." I popped off, and Grimmjow scoffed.

"Don't worry about Gamuza. She's a human-loving idiot."

"So that's true?"

"Yeah. After losing her Espada rank, she ended up living among humans and liked it. Last I heard, she turned to eating other demons more than humans."

"Does that mean she was being serious about us studying each other?"

"More than likely." Grimmjow pushed his wet hair back out of his face. "You seem to keep getting lucky with which Arrancar you run into. Pussy-cat Tigre and human-loving Gamuza." He sighed, and I smirked while holding his chin as my lips were centimeters from him.

"Can't forget the great Pantera."

"I am great, aren't I?" He had a lopsided grin that made me chuckle. How he held me and looked at me really did help me feel better. Even if he didn't know what exactly was going on, he was still trying.

When we were finally climbing into bed to sleep, I picked up my phone to check it only to freeze at what I saw on the screen. My cheeks warmed before I slowly looked at the demon getting comfortable under the blanket.

"What?" He quirked up a brow, and I faced my phone's lockscreen in his direction. Grimmjow gained a cat-worthy grin that only confirmed what he'd done.

"I can't believe you." I stated while pinching the bridge of my nose since he'd changed my lockscreen to a picture of him covered in lipstick marks. It showed from his mouth to his lower stomach, so thankfully I hadn't been flashed by my own phone.

"Wait 'til you see your homescreen."

"You didn't."

"Oh, I did." Grimmjow was still grinning as I hesitantly unlocked my phone. The homescreen was another picture of him from a different angle that did show his face and cock as he had his tongue sticking out.

"Grimmjow!" I swatted at him, and he was laughing as he dodged. "You took nudes with my phone?!"

"You're welcome."

"How many did you take?"

"You're just gonna have to find out."

"You're horrible."

"You like it."

"Well, Orihime took that better than expected." I said while opening the front door. During our meeting, I'd given Orihime my new batch of research and explained how there was a new demon I was capable of studying more. She had simply listened as I explained Tigre had found me while I was out with friends and how I'd managed to convince him into this arrangement instead of exorcising him.

Of course, there were some lies and omitted parts since that night hadn't exactly gone in a Soul Society-friendly way.

"Told you she had a few screws loose." Grimmjow popped off as he entered the house behind me.

"Be nice." I sighed and took my shoes off as he closed the front door. Dagur came bounding over, and I heard something else coming down the stairs.

"Fucking great." Grimmjow grumbled while running a hand down his face, and then I saw why.

"You're back!" Nel launched at me with a hug.

"N-Nel?!"

"What took you guys so long? Were you on a date?" She had a teasing tone, and Grimmjow growled.

"A meeting. What, uh, what are you doing here?" I managed to get some space as she smiled.

"I noticed you had a lot of empty space here."

"No." Grimmjow snarled.

"What?" I was confused while the demons seemed to be on the same page.

"Come on, Pantera! You wouldn't kick me out on the streets, would you?" Nel pouted while giving puppy-dog eyes.

"Yes. I would."

"I'll tell them your name!" Nel pointed at me, and Grimmjow laughed while crossing his arms.

"Ha! They already know it!"

"What?!" Nel looked at me with wide eyes.

"What is happening here?"

"Nelliel wants to stay here." Grimmjow put emphasis on the name, and Nel gasped while looking offended. "That's right. I still remember yours, too, bitch."

"Wait, so you two know each other's names?"

"Long story, hundreds of years old." Grimmjow waved the question off. "And no. You can't stay here."

"Too bad. I already moved my stuff in." Nel raised her chin while crossing her arms.

"You did what?" I looked at her, and Nel fell to her knees in front of me while bawling her eyes out.

"Please! I've got nowhere else to go! I-I don't know how to fake documents and can't live anywhere else! I'll be good, I promise!" Nel was ugly crying as she clung to the front of my shirt, and I felt so awkward with my hands raised.

"That shit's fake!" Grimmjow yelled while pointing at Nel. "You can't trick this mortal just by crying." There was so much going on all at once between the yelling, crying, and being blindsided by Nel in my house.

"Don't be so mean!" Nel wailed with snot and tears going down her face. It was....odd seeing a demon cry.

"Go bum off some other human. This one's mine, I told you."

"But this one's safe! You're living here, aren't you?"

"I own them!"

"So? They're paying the bills, aren't they?"

"Yeah, and?"

"Then stay out of it!" Nel sniffled, and I heavily sighed while patting her head.

"Nelliel, right?"

"Yeah."

"You don't have to cry. You can stay here."

"What?!" Grimmjow looked at me with bewilderment, and Nel lit up with excitement.

"Really?!"

"But you only get to stay here so long as you behave like you said. If I start seeing corpses around my house, you're out. Understand?"

"Yes!" She jumped to her feet and wiped her face.

"You can't be serious." Grimmjow gave me a look, and I waved my hands.

"Come on. I'm an exorcist. It's safer to have her here where she can be monitored instead of on the streets doing who knows what." Grimmjow was glaring, and I crossed my arms. "Give me one good reason why she can't."

"She's annoying."

"Hey!"

"That's not a good reason. Look, she'll have her own room, Dagur doesn't mind her," I gestured at the dog standing next to Nel. "and she already knows your name. She also already knows we're sleeping together, so it's not like there's anything else to hide."

"Why are you so okay with this?"

"I already said it. It's safer for her to be here. It's the same as when I tricked you into staying on this property. I just don't have to trick her when she's begging to stay." Grimmjow didn't respond, and I raised my eyebrows. "It'll piss off the Soul Society."

"....Fine."

"I'll be on my best behavior." Nel bowed before giggling from Dagur getting in her face. This demon was....so very different even from Grimmjow and Tigre.

"First, there's some ground rules." Grimmjow stood close to Nel while getting in her face with a snarl. "This one has more power than you think they do. You don't fucking tell anyone about it. Whatever you sense when me and Little Rabbit spar, it doesn't leave this house. Got it?" Her expression morphed to a more serious one as her posture changed.

"I understand. But it would be stupid of me to put a target on them when they are providing for me as well now."

"That also means you keep your hands to yourself. I don't care how hungry you get. This human is off limits."

"If you're able to keep yourself under control, so am I. But for you to be like this...." Nel seemed to study Grimmjow's face before continuing. "They don't have a normal soul, do they?" He didn't answer at first.

"No. They don't. Congratulations, Nelliel. You've put yourself in the home of your predator." Grimmjow then walked away to go upstairs with Dagur following behind him. Nel took a second to realize what he meant before looking at me with wide eyes.

"Um.... If you'd like to have a seat, I can actually fill you in on what's been going on." I gestured to the couch, and she glanced over her shoulder.

"Please. There's clearly more here than I thought." Her calm tone was so different from how she'd been acting not even five minutes ago. She took a seat, and I sat down with some space between us.

"I should probably start from the beginning." I softly sighed while running my hand through my hair. "Grimmjow said you actually do like humans, so I'm trusting his word on that. If you have questions about anything I'm telling you, feel free to ask. However, some stuff I might not be able to answer."

"I see. And what is the beginning?" Nel asked, and I began to tell her about how Grimmjow and I had ended up stuck in the same house together.

#Feral Possession #grimmjow jaegerjaquez #bleach #bleach au #bleach fanfic #bleach smut #oc x canon #grimmjow smut #demon/exorcist au #exophilia #lemon #Wolf does fanfic

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ineedmorefanfics2 · 2 years ago

Note

can i please get prompt number 8 with derek hale?

thankyou so much 🫶🏼 #followercelebration

Heads up! This fanfic was edited after posting!

8. “I want to go home to my wife.”

Warnings: Angst, Blood (Happy Ending)

A/N: So this was SUPPOSED to be done a couple of days ago, but I didn’t like it and I redid it like 7 times lol. Also Derek is based off of season 6 Derek if that makes sense? Anyways, thank you so much for the request and I really do hope you like it!

Derek hissed, stumbling over his own two feet as he trudged up the path to Scott McCall’s front door.

The bullet wound in his chest was leaking yellow smoke, and every movement felt like agony.

“Scott!” He called, throat raspy. “Scott!?”

Derek’s breathing became heavy, the wound hot and throbbing. He could feel the wolfsbane flowing through his veins, like gasoline that had been lit aflame.

His head swam and his vision blurred, his brain a scramble. His mind had been on autopilot since he came to on the cold forest floor. He had woken up covered in blood, with scorching pain enveloping his body and no recollection of what happened. Adrenaline forced him to stumble his way to the closest friend for help, nose catching the closest scent.

Derek’s thoughts drifted to you, eyebrows furrowing in worry. Where are you? Were you with him when he was shot? Are you safe and sound at home? He shivered at the thought of you being hurt, or worse.

He needs to find you, he needs to make sure you’re okay.

Derek turns to leave but looses his footing, losing his balance as he practically falls into Scott’s front door, a loud bang echoing throughout the dark neighborhood as his body collided with the white painted mahogany.

The door opened, Derek slumping inside as Melissa let out a startled shriek. “Derek!?”

She bent over, a gasp leaving her. “Scott! Scott get down here!” She grabbed the lapels of Derek’s jacket, doing her best to drag him inside as footsteps pounded down the stairs.

“What’s going on? What’s wrong?” Scott asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“He’s hurt, help me get him on the couch.” Melissa spoke, grabbing ahold of Derek’s arms.

Scott ran over, grabbing ahold of his legs as the two lifted him onto the couch.

“Derek? Derek can you hear me?” Melissa asked, shaking him gently.

Derek blinked, wincing in pain and grasping his head. “Y/N?”.

“No Derek, it’s Melissa and Scott. Can you hear me? I need you to tell me what’s wrong.”

Derek shook his head, sweat soaking his brow as he frowned. He sniffed the air, searching for any sign of you. His mind was consumed with the thought of you, unaware of his surroundings. “Where’s Y/N? Where’s my wife?”

Scott looked at his mother before turning towards Derek. “Derek, I don’t know.”

Derek tried sitting up, crying out in pain as he moved. “Where am I? I have to…” He trailed off.

“He’s disoriented.” Melissa noted. “Something is definitely wrong.”

“I want to… I want to go home to my wife.” Derek demanded. “I need to go home to my wife.” He tried to get up but Melissa was quick to push him down.

“Derek you’re not going anywhere until we figure out what’s wrong. I don’t think you understand what you’re saying right now. Do you know where you are? Can you understand me?”

Derek let out a growl, trying to push her away to no avail. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it, but before he knew it his eyes were closing and he passed out.

“Derek!?” Melissa yelled frantically, fingers finding his pulse point. “He’s got a pulse but it’s slowing.”

“He’s bleeding.” Scott pointed, gesturing to the blood barely visible from behind Derek’s leather jacket.

“Scott, go grab the first aid kit.” Scott ran off as Melissa gently pulled Derek’s jacket off. Without the black leather in the way, she could see the large blood stain spreading through his white t-shirt.

Scott handed her the first aid kit and she was quick to grab a pair of scissors, cutting Derek’s shirt and peeling it away from his skin.

She gasped at the yellow oozing wound. “Please tell me you know why it’s doing that.” She turned towards Scott who nodded his head.

“It’s yellow wolfsbane, we have to burn it out.”

“There’s a small torch in the junk draw.” She pointed and Scott was quick to grab it.

“I’m going to need you to hold him down.” She warned.

Scott nodded, grabbing ahold of Derek’s shoulders. “Ready.” He spoke.

“Here we go.” Melissa turned on the torch, taking a deep breath before holding it above Derek’s wound.

Derek woke with a start, his face morphing as he let out a pained roar that practically shook the house. He knocked Scott away from him, squirming as he tried to get away from the hot flame.

“Hold him!” Melissa yelled. Scott pushed Derek down once more using all of his strength, preventing the older wolf from thrashing as Melissa continued to burn the wolfsbane.

Derek slumped as Melissa finally pulled away, eyes blinking sluggishly as he panted.

He took a minute to get his bearings before letting Scott help him sit up.

“What happened?” Scott asked.

Derek’s mind cleared as the pain faded, his healing abilities kicking in now that his wound was free of poison. Memories flooded him and he took a minute to adjust before he spoke. “Hunters happened.” Derek responded. “I need to find Y/N,” He groaned as he stood. “I need to find her now.”

“Slow down.” Melissa chastised. “You almost died less than two minutes ago, you’re not fit to be going anywhere in the condition you’re in.”

“I need to find her, you don’t understand.”

“Why don’t you explain what happened?” Scott suggested. “I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.”

Derek sighed, glancing at the front door before he nodded. “Y/N and I were looking for a rogue omega near the high school when a group of hunters showed up.” He paused, scowling at the ground. “They blinded sided us. I didn’t smell them, I didn’t hear them, nothing. It’s like they came out of nowhere.”

“I didn’t know what was happening until they shot me.” He winced. “I told Y/N to run but she didn’t listen.” Derek paused, eyebrows furrowing as he tried to remember.

“She grabbed onto me and was practically dragging me with her. I remember falling and somebody was screaming and then I blacked out. When I came to I guess I came here.” Derek finished.

“I’ll call the pack. We’ll find her Derek.” Scott assured, putting his hand on Derek’s shoulder for comfort.

“No need to.” A voice spoke, causing the three to look up. You stood at the front door, Malia and Stiles behind you.

“Y/N.” Derek sighed. You were covered in dirt and blood, t-shirt ripped and leaves tangled in your hair.

“You’re okay.” You cried, making your way to him, hands wrapping around his shoulders as you squeezed him.

He squeezed you back just as tight, ignoring the slight pain in his chest as he gave you a soft kiss on the forehead. “I was so worried about you.”

“Me? You were the one bleeding out. I left you for two seconds and you were gone. I thought…” You trailed off, breath trembling slightly.

“I’m okay.” He assured. “We’re both okay.”

You nodded, giving him one last squeeze before gently pulling away.

“What happened out there? How’d you get away?” Derek asked, hand going to your cheek as he looked you over once more.

“It wasn’t easy. Those hunters were unlike any we’ve been against before. They were smart, covered their scents and their tracks. Barely made a noise either. It was thanks to them I got out of there alive.” You said, gesturing to Malia and Stiles. “If they hadn’t come to back me up I don’t think I would’ve made it.”

“Where are they now?” Scott asked.

“Down at the station. I called my dad and he brought some back up. Cops came just in time to see those assholes shoot at us. A bunch of adults shooting at high school kids? Yeah, they’re not getting out of jail anytime soon.” Stiles said smugly.

“We had just started to track down Derek when we heard his yell. We came over right away.” Malia added.

“Are you okay?” Melissa asked, eyes falling to the bullet holes in your shirt.

You smiled softly at her worried expression, lifting your shirt up. “All healed. They only had one wolfsbane bullet, which I assume was for the omega. They were stupid to use it on Derek.” You practically growled before taking a calming breath. “Thank you by the way, if you and Scott hadn’t been there to save him I…I don’t know what I’d do.”

“Of course, I’m a nurse it’s my job. Not to mention you’re both like family. It’s the least I could do.” Melissa nodded, squeezing your hand reassuringly.

“Definitely not the first time Scott’s saved my ass from a wolfsbane bullet. Remember?” Derek asked, nudging Scott who let out a laugh at the memory.

Stiles let out a gag. “Oh god, don’t remind me. I still can’t get over that bone saw. I can’t believe you wanted me to cut off your arm.” He shuddered.

“I don’t even want to to know.” Melissa sighed.

“I’d like to know.” Malia spoke, causing the group to laugh.

“Did you end up finding the omega?” Melissa asked once everyone settled.

You and Derek shook your heads. “Didn’t have time to. We’ll start a new search tomorrow. I think it’d be better if we got some rest first, especially you.” You stated, nudging Derek in his side.

“We’ll come with you.” Scott said. “So hopefully next time you won’t show up dying at my door at two in the morning.”

“Yeah, I’d like to avoid that.” Derek nodded.

“Why don’t you all stay here tonight?” Melissa voiced. “It’ll make me feel a lot better.”

“I call Scott’s bed!” Stiles cried, racing up the stairs with a protesting Scott at his heels.

“I want the floor!” Malia yelled, chasing after the two.

Melissa laughed at their antics before turning towards you and Derek. “The couch is a pullout, blankets and extra pillows are in the draw underneath the tv. Eat anything you’d like, I have to go grocery shopping anyways.”

You hugged her gently. “Thank you, Mrs. McCall.”

“Please, call me Melissa. And seriously, anytime.” She smiled, bidding goodnight before she made her way up to her room.

Derek grabbed the blankets and pillows while you pulled out the couch. Scott came back down with a change of clothes for both you and Derek, courtesy of him and his mom.

It wasn’t long before the two of you were settling into bed, Derek’s head on your chest with his arm around your waist and your fingers combing through his hair.

“I meant it you know.” You spoke, voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you, Derek.”

He lifted his head, eyes meeting yours. “You will never lose me.” He grabbed your hand, thumb brushing over the two rings that sat on your ring finger. “For better or worse, in sickness and in health. I am with you forever.”

“Is that what I signed up for?” You teased, letting out a soft laugh as Derek rolled his eyes with a grumble.

You smiled softly at him, heart beating loudly in your chest. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He replied, the arm around your waist tightening ever so slightly.

#followercelebration #derek hale x reader #teen wolf #teen wolf x reader #derek hale #scott mccall #stiles stilinski #melissa mccall #malia rate #malia hale

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muffindaddystyles · 3 years ago

Note

Will mafia!h and Y/N will have babies? 🥺💓

IM SO SORRY TO TELL YOU THIS BESTIE BUT.... </3

39. " I'm not saying a goodbye."

It was raining. Skies a gloomy shade of cinereal. Harry’s sleek car came to a screeching halt infront of the vast threshold of his home -- his grin pearlish, eyes twinkling a spark as he gets out of the car not caring to close the door behind. He greets his staff and strides two steps together with a gorgeous bunch of his lovie’s favourite flowers now dewy with raindrops and his nose twitched upon sniffing the vanilla-y smell while passing the kitchen and with his beam never vanishing he leaned into the doorframe asking the people inside, “’Ave y'seen Y/N?” Only for them to shake their heads in uncertainty.

She hasn’t showed herself downstairs since morning and even though it’s very odd of her not to chirp around the mansion nobody went to knock at her door to inquire, they think she deserves privacy.

This time they should have because when Harry barged inside their room it was caliginous with curtains shut and lights dimmed to zero.

“Lovie?” His cheery voice clamoured against the walls, a sour feeling he couldn’t be aware of pinches him in throat as he bobbed his head around to look for her and it perked up when a shadow falls on his feet.

“Baby?” His smile quirked back onto his confused features and he narrowed his eyelids to take in her presence through the darkness of wardrobe, “Harry.” A shaky whisper floated towards him and before that sweet call she was falling against his chest.

“Y/N ... baby —-,” His stumped chuckle halted, his brain numbed for a moment when his fingertips brushed up her back to push her closer to him and they trembled as they collected the wetness there. His heart bleaks a stinging pain into it’s cords, his breath shuddered coldly, flowers falling sadly beside their feet and his eyes earths with tears of panic, angst and torment.

His fingertips coating in his love's thick blood.

“I –- ‘m .. you –.. you’re h-hu —- hurt,” He stammered through a whimper hand wrapping around the dagger whose half end’s stabbed into Y/N's spine, her weak frail body unresponsive though she could listen to him.

“Who did this to you! Who did this to you!?” His screams and cries startled everyone downstairs and they rushed up to see what’s happening, to be shocked by their sights of Y/N limp in Harry’s embrace.

He turned his neck to shout at them, “I need a hand t’help me!!” His eyes bloodshot and Niall his best-man scurried over to them as Harry carried Y/N and laid her on her tummy on the bed, he slips onto his knees putting his chin on the mattress to look in her hazy painful eyes -- tears caged in them but never flowing down.

“Harry ...” She mumbled grittily in agony lifting her shaky fingers to pet his face and like an affection starved kitten Harry doesn’t let her tire herself and gets closer to her himself, “Niall bring the first aid, it’s under the sink.” He commands him not letting his eyes drift from over her angelic face.

“You’re okay baby. You’re okay, I know how to stitch up knife wounds.” He sniffled sucking in a breath trying to be brave for her and she just smiled gorgeously, lips blue and cheeks draining out of her usual berry stain.

“Jesus. Harry she’s been stabbed thrice, those fuckers,” Niall’s words wavered in fear and sympathy for Y/N. He squeezed Harry’s shoulder as Harry sobbed upon hearing that, “No –-... no, no! It’s still okay yeah poppet? I’m g’na get y'alright.” He wanted to covers his eyes to block the hurting groans Y/N elicited and he cradled her soft face in his warm palms in comparison to her temperature, touching their temples to pray together.

“Harry li .. listen to —- to me,” She gasps eyes flittering over his shoulder towards Bambi and Thumper the two dogs that had gotten overly fond of her, Harry’s blurry gaze follows her enfeebled gesture for them to come near her.

They whined and howled sadly flopping beside Harry and Harry hiccupped into his elbow shaking his head when Y/N put her hand under their ears in effort to scratch them but wasn’t able to unfortunately, “Hi babies. You’re gonna look after dad after ‘m gone?” Everyone cried at that watching her soul leave their dull lives that watered colourful upon her arrival.

“Don’t say that! Don’t y'dare say that!” Harry sobbed rushing to hug her tightly, the front of his shirt loathing crimson and she hissed looping her arm against his neck when Niall pulled the dagger out from her lower spine gradually and slowly not to hurt her.

“’M so sorry baby, sorry for being the reason of y’pain.” His tears dampened her already sweaty crook of neck, “Pr – promise me t-that that you’ll have some —.. someone who lov‐-.. loves –--,” She whimpered. Her body jerked into him with a force and she pushed him weakly away to stitch her lips tenderly against his's.

“Tell me bubby. Ha—- have I loved y'enough?” She cooed into their kiss and Harry bolted his eyes shut, poisonous sobs wrecking out of his chest.

“Tell me before, I go ...” Her heartbeat started dropping insanely, her lips wobbled, toes curling with life excavating out of her, “Y'have. Y'have don’t go baby, I’m not saying a goodbye!” He cried showering her in kisses for the one last time and pets her hair, eyes closed praying she takes him with herself because he'd never recover from the pain of loosing the only person he loved more than himself, the person who made hum love himself.

“I love you ..” She whispered, her loving kind eyes locked against his’s and the pool of honey around her rims expanded, her lips parted around the gasping breaths and Harry begged and pleaded — a side of him no-one has ever witnessed as he twisted in anguish considering himself the unluckiest man on the earth for letting his lover go like this, in the worst possible way.

“I love you, I thought I’d never be capable of, y'made me worthy darling. I'll always love you baby....” He shrieked into her chest heaving her up gently to embrace her properly and even though he knew she was no more with him, he fooled himself into thinking so.

If it was possible he’d have clawed his ribs to pluck out his heart in return of hers and he felt like the sun and earth had crashed vanishing away the time spaces as he sat there crying and crying mourning the loss of his lovie that could never be healed by anything in this whole word.

He keeps on holding her, rocking back and forth as he lulls her to slumber of death.

It hurts. It hurts so bad.

His heart weeps.

His soul aches.

When rain stopped and that tranquil silence doomed over them, rage filled his every pore and vein.

He knew who did this. Harry has played dirty but he has never played unfair. It was this gang of companies who sabotaged and destructed the orphanages at the property which belonged to his mother (but the papers weren’t clear) to build restaurants and apartments there so Harry took revenge by burning acres of their illegal drug running underground factory and rebuilt the orphanages and took Y/N to one of their charity events.

She was the happiest he had ever seen her.

It’s like a gun barrel clicked in. A firecracker catching the fuse of ashe to burst everything into flames as Harry laid her with ever most tenderness and kissed her temple, her lifeless eyelids and her chapped lips.

Cleaned the streak of blood with his sleeve and didn’t wipe his tears away bashing out of the room, everyone stepped away as Niall lunged infront of him to stop him before he goes to cause damage to himself more than to them for being in such a vulnerable and weak state.

“Step away.” He growled angrily, gaze fiery and dangerous.

“No.” Niall sighed.

“I wouldn’t get her buried in sucha cold blood. She didn’t deserved this, hell nobody does.” Harry kissed his teeth together gripping at his hair ruthlessly, cheeks dry with tears, his limbs trembling, his head spinning.

“Anyone who wouldn’t follow my orders gets their kneecaps blow-off.” He grunted -- nostrils flaring and saying this he went away, snatching his guns from the console and ordered his men to find the security guards that had their duties at the main gates.

In just a day he hunted each of those monsters down like a hungry wolf and gave them such punished, tortured deaths that each one fell in Harry’s feet for his mercy but his heart was turned into a stone already because the only warmth it had there was because of one person and that person’s gone leaving him to survive in this hellhole alone while he dragged these bastards to the depths of firepits.

Once, coming back home to her. To his sunshine, to his soul and life, to his reasons of getting up every morning so he would get to spend time with her —- he broke down. Into shattered bits and pieces of remorse, guilt and sadness feeling himself so small and hurtable as he cried to himself all alone in their garden with no-one to console him where he’ll come to meet her daily.

He wants to rip his skin apart and set it on fire for his beating heart to stop, for it stop feeling.

He feels sick. Fainting, in urgency and desperation to hold his baby and never let go.

To lay down with her under the soil if that's possible.

his only reason to live.

His only beloved.

The wind giggles through pink leaves of cherry blossom tree, lush grass resting peacefully and Harry smiles to himself treading towards his two most favourite people in the world.

The spring being their heartiest month.

“Azalea! What y’chattering ‘bout t'mum?” He asks and nods proudly when his lil boy stands up from his cross position on the ground from beside his mother and brushes the grassy spikes from his cherry printed shorts with his little pudgy hands.

“My first day at school dada!” The four years old squeals and Harry scoops him up in his arms, kissing his cheek again amount less times, “Is that so, huh! huh!” He tickles his little bun.

Y/N was right. Isn’t she always. Harry chuckles. Even if she’s gone he still feels loved from her, she’s in the rains, in the sweaters he wears when he feels shallow, in the scent of his pillows, she’s in the vanilla smell of their favourite cupcakes – she’s in his dreams and that name of their son, Azalea.

She always wanted to name their first born Azalea, a blooming flower that happens to be a vibrant pink, a gift of spring, are floriferous in sunshine and she'd always say that Harry would be their sun.

Their ever source of happiness.

Azalea was three days old when his mother died and Harry took him home even though not sure of his own decision but something in those little eyes that matches his mommy made Harry’s heart attract towards him so much he brought him without another thought.

A home he built with Y/N. The curtains of the mansion still remains pushed back wide, flower vases on every furniture, not a day goes by when anyone doesn’t misses her and the ducklings has grown so much that Y/N would have been spinning in happiness around.

Nothing has changed, life’s fleeting for everyone except for Harry. He counts each day and night that goes without her beside him in his sleep, in the little picnics with Azalea and Niall, in the story reading at nights with his baby, in kitchen to watch the winters first rain prattling against that one window that’s old enough to carry the remains of his ancestors, she’s never there to share a noodle pot with him while he sits and eat alone, never there to patch his favourite socks back, to kiss his forehead whenever he leaves home, to call him sweet names and to laugh with him on his silly jokes, to do thumb fights, to get angry with him whenever he refuses to layer himself in cold.

Never.

Never physically. But, she’s always there in his heart, her presence lurks around him and he could feel the warmth of her wrapping around him whenever he falls asleep watching telly.

“What did y'learn today bubba?” He asks Azalea and grins cheekily when Azalea babbles, “Colours!”

“That’s fuckin’ amazin'!” At that a huge gush of breeze hits him in face a tiny branch of the tree they’re standing under falls on his head.

“Kay' kay fine! No cursing.” He squeaks in defence pouting down at the grave of his lovie and his face splits into a grin when his hair glittered up with cherry blossom leaves.

“We miss you very much,” His voice heavy and sad. He gulps chokingly and blinks away the glossiness, stroking a thumb up Azalea cheek who’s sitting in Harry’s lap.

Every evening they come to meet Y/N, the hole in his heart couldn’t fill up of her void but the soothing feeling of relief that she’s in their garden and nearer to him has lessened the grief.

“G’na meet you tomorrow, our baby’s mighty hungry.” He chuckles hearing the grumbling noises coming from Azalea’s belly.

“You’re so cheeky baby.” His eyes glimmers and he feels himself swooning into breeze, “How’s it going in heaven?” He asks airily tracing his initials beside her beautiful name engraved at the tombstone and it’s like she’s scolding him when he gets a nip on his pointy finger.

“Azalea kiss mommy a goodbye.” Harry breaks into laughter when Azalea bobs his head and almost tumbles of his daddy’s lap in the effort to reach the tombstone.

“Goodbye beautiful.” Harry whispers kissing the top of her tombstone and his heart bursts into lilacs when once again he’s showered into petal like leaves.

“I love you too, baby.” Finally he has accepted to say goodbyes.

#THIS MADE ME CRY I NEVER CRY AT MY OWN FICS #THIS ONE WAS HELLA SAD #SORRY POPPLINS #BUT HAD TO GIVE YOU AN HEARTACHE #HARRY SAD WRITINGS #HARRY ANGST #harry styles fanfic #harry styles #cute harry #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry angst #hsh #fluff #dom harry

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