#tw violence toward animals

[mynamesaplant]

Great Risk, Great Reward

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PLEASE NOTE THAT THIS FIC CONTAINS: VIOLENCE TOWARDS ANIMALS AND CHILDREN, BLOOD, INJURY, AND ANIMAL DEATH - IF ANY OF THOSE THINGS MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE, PLEASE READ WITH CAUTION!

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I want to thank my pal Mons for being a constant inspiration for the PLA Mer AU and for beta reading this fic for me. Summary: Gaeric finds out that Dawn likes penguins, but their bonding times goes a little awry.

Don't want to read it on Tumblr? You can read it on AO3!

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“Hey-” Dawn began to scramble across the ground faster, very familiar with the voice and deathly terrified to have yet another bad encounter. “Hey, squirt! I’m talking to you.”

“Oh no, no, no, no-”

Dawn was almost across the room, almost to the same pool that Ingo had disappeared into with Calaba and Irida – where had Gaeric even come from and why hadn’t she heard him? He was so big and, mer or no, seals were not exactly graceful on land. A hand snatched her up with her fingertip’s inches from the frigid water. Enclosed in his warm palm, Dawn felt herself moving through space and mentally preparing for the worst. What was he going to yell at her for today?

To her surprise upon meeting Gaeric eye-to-considerably-larger-eye, he was beaming, looking genuinely excited about… Well, something. Dawn had only even seen him grumpy and tired, and he usually wasn’t awake at this hour.

“I thought we learned from last time,” his tone was chiding, and his expression momentarily reflected the voice, but clearly, he was too excited to permit the disapproving scowl to grace his face. “Stay out of the deeper water without an adult.”

Dawn cringed and shrank in his outstretched palm, edging as far away as she could because her heart was positively slamming against her ribcage with a barely contained anxiety. She was less afraid of Gaeric after that last time Ingo dumped her with the warden. Despite how intimidating she still found him, his coat was very soft and fluffy, which was one point in his favor. It was practically irresistible, many other pups running their fingers through it with a reverent fascination. (And he had been pretty nice to her since then, doubly so after she quelled his noble with her flute.)

Still, this level of excitement for Gaeric was not in character. So, Dawn remained wary even as he propelled himself across the ice toward a different hole. She recognized it. It was a tunnel that led to the outside. A fresh wave of panic swarmed in her head like a cloud of wasps, buzzing irrational thoughts into her ears. She swallowed an anxious whine as it became abundantly clear that Gaeric intended to take her from the settlement. Dawn fiddled with her scarf, keeping her eyes low, and hardly listening as Gaeric chatted at her in amicable tones.

“Ga-Gaeric?” She interrupted him hesitantly. He was just about to set her down so she could follow him, in his excitement, he had even noticed how she was acting. “Wh-Where are you tak-taking me?”

“Hm?”

Oh, he supposed he hadn’t told her just yet. He was just so thrilled, so excited about the news. All the wardens were. Loathe as he was to tell the Diamond clan anything, he also shared the good news with Sabi, who he was sure would find some way to relay that to the rest of her clan.

Now, however, Gaeric was turning vaguely pink. He hadn’t meant to overhear. Honest! People just presumed that he, under his nice, warm stitched walrus skins, was asleep, and often he was dozing off, but it was a catnap like he had seen Lady Sneasler do. Half-conscious but ready to leap into action at a moment’s notice, especially given the strange changes in the sea recently and the encroaching of those humans into their territory.

“I, uh – I heard that you like penguins.”

Dawn’s jaw slackened in disbelief. She had only recently told Ingo of her travels to the northern shores of Hisui, an ice encrusted and ethereally silent snowscape, and witnessed several penguins waddling around. Either Ingo told his fellow wardens, and considering how close to the vest he kept most information concerning Dawn that seemed unlikely, or Gaeric had overheard, which made her nervous about what else he might have inexplicably overheard. Mentally scolding herself for being so careless of her surroundings and tongue so loose as to talk of her secret double-life on the surface.

“Er, yeah! I do.”

A gleeful glint came into Gaeric’s blue eyes, his next sentence actually made her perk up.

“Fantastic! Let’s go look for some penguins then.”

Dawn should have known that it was too good to be true.

The swim to the north shore was actually pretty nice. Gaeric was chatting with her amiably, grinning toothily while she swam around him, his eyes watchful for any potential predators, but they seemed to be getting along famously.  That was, until they made it to the frozen tundra, and Gaeric threw out an arm to make her halt.

“Alright kid,” he said, flashing her a broad smile.

He did not notice her decidedly confused expression as he launched into an in-depth explanation of penguins.

“These guys are speedy in the water, but you probably know that already.”

The warden gently nudged her toward the distant penguins torpedoing through the water, zipping after silvery fish.

“If you need air, the clan has already made a few airholes in the ice. Just be cautious of any predators that might be on the ice if you stick your head out to get a look, alright? I’ll be right here if anything happens.”

“Uh, okay?”

Dawn replied, unsure why Gaeric of all mers would be so excited to show her something like this. Lian loved to show and share things with Dawn, but Gaeric? This was extremely out of character. That was when she started to realize things were not exactly as they seemed.

“This is my first time watching you, so don’t be worried about making any mistakes. We all know Ingo’s not the greatest of hunters.”

Hunters?

Did Gaeric… Oh, no.

Dawn felt another insistent little nudge to the small of her back. That’s why he was excited. He was excited to teach her to hunt because she had said she liked penguins. Gaeric was providing her helpful tricks and hints for her imminent hunt and Dawn could feel her insides roiling. Why did he have to suddenly be so encouraging? Her brain was screaming with panic, clutching her hands in front of her and nervously fussing with the edges of her scarf.

Sensing unease, he stopped pushing – some pups had performance anxiety, they wanted to impress or do well on their first hunt, but they got inside their own heads. Maybe that’s what she was feeling with his incessant chatter.

“Hey kid?” She twisted around to glance at him, and he gave her two thumbs up. “You’ve got this.”

With that final encouragement, Dawn swam forward, the warden unaware of the deep grimace etched into her cheeks. He wanted her to – what? Chase a penguin? He knew how bad she was at swimming. Yes, she had been getting better since she learned to dodge the frenzied nobles, but she was not fast, just better coordinated. She was trying to think fast. Gaeric expected her to try, and she had to do something to maintain her façade, so she would at least chase after some penguins. He would eventually get fed up with her failed attempts… but then what?

Gaeric genuinely enjoyed hunting. Not because he was a bloodthirsty maniac or anything (like Dawn seemed to think), he just felt more in his element chasing prey down, when building his sophisticated traps, when launching a spear into the hide of a seal – he said that it tickled the predatory part of his brain that few other activities seemed to even scrape. Teaching pups to hunt was always an exciting prospect. Pups had so much untapped potential that Gaeric loved to nurture. The next generation of Pearl clan hunters was a serious source of pride for the warden and, although Dawn could be a little weird at times, he was just as invested in teaching her as he was with any pup.

Dawn drifted, penguins and fish danced erratically in the water before her like it was some absurd ballet. Maybe if she had been here with Ingo, it would have been amusing, but not under her current circumstances. How could she make this look convincing? She thought about her excursions with Laventon and his advice on how to get closer to their target. A target was basically prey right?

‘Stay low and move slow. Don’t make any sudden movements or noises that might scare them.’

Maintain the illusion. She knew just enough about penguins to know they would quickly scatter once she started chasing them, probably hop back onto the icepack the moment they saw her advance. She dove down where the sunlight couldn’t reach and the water became even colder, watching the white bellies of the penguins flitting around overhead. Without realizing it, Dawn’s body was responding to an instinct she did not think she possessed as a human who transformed into a mer; muscles coiling, pupils blown wide in anticipation, hands curling and uncurling.

The warden watched with an ember of pride burning brightly in his chest. He waited with great anticipation for her to make her first catch.

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Gaeric watched her for about twenty minutes as penguin after penguin slipped through her clutches with startling regularity. He knew she wasn’t experienced, but even the most novice of pups was able to grab a penguin after a couple of tries. Now all the birds were making a beeline for the shore and there was no point for the pup to follow. If she was this bad in the water, she would have no chance hunting anything on the land.

Dawn actually snarled at him when he shifted himself between her and her quarry, the noise frustrated as she tried to dart around him.

“Pup, stop. You’re going to overheat. Go up and take a breath. Clear your head.”

The surveyor didn’t even realize how much heat she was radiating from physical exertion. Her slim chest heaving and muscles quivering – she didn’t realize how much her focus had consumed her. The large mer guided her to the surface, already giving her pointers as she tried to catch her breath. How long was she chasing the Adélies? She was able to recognize the brush tails and distinct two-toned coats from her previous excursions with the professor. She was genuinely trying to catch one… to do what with? She didn’t want to dwell on it, the mere thought made her shudder with a mix of disgust and horror.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself.” The warden murmured sympathetically, completely misinterpreting her expression as disappointment. “Catching them gets easier with practice. You stay here.”

No argument from Dawn, she felt exhausted as she watched Gaeric disappear into the gloom. The blood pounded in her ears, otherwise she would have noticed how quiet the surrounding water had become as a predator trawled through the sea.

He was gone for a little while, Dawn waiting idly for the warden to return, but making sure to practice scanning around like Ingo had taught her. She was very small and there were a lot of would-be predators like orcas, leopard seals, and polar bears patrolling for a tasty snack like her.

She smelled Gaeric before she saw him, or rather, she smelled the blood. Thankfully it wasn’t his, but it was putrid, clouding the water in a fine pink mist as he approached, which was when she heard the shrieks that sent a cold shiver up her spine. The warden had a woven net over his shoulder that was chock full of dead Adélie penguins, all except one, which was making those horrific noises.

Dawn covered her mouth, feeling saliva pooling beneath her tongue, but it had nothing to do with hunger. No, the penguin looked far from appetizing. A wave of nausea rolled through her, making her skin feel prickly hot and stomach roil when he came to a stop in front of her.

The smell of blood was all around her, sticking to the inside of her nose, bitter and metallic, while Gaeric rummaged through his catch of the day, seizing the sole penguin left alive, and dropped it before her with an encouraging smile. He had the realization that she would not only be hungry after all that swimming around, but she would also want a chance to prove herself to him. He had done a similar tactic with other pups, the younger ones especially; catch something of an appropriate size for them and injure it, then allow the pup to make the final blow. It was a good boost of confidence after a long string of failures.

The penguin flopped around, plumes of blood misting the water darker and darker pink with each flap of the poor creature’s unbroken wing, wailing in fear and agony. The scene was ghastly.

“Alright pup. Now, what you’re going to want to do is-”

The audible gag over the sounds of the penguin made Gaeric stop midsentence and he looked more closely at the tears collecting in her dark eyes.

“Ga-Gaeric, I c-can’t…”

A frown settled on his face. A new predicament. Dawn probably liked to eat penguins, but she had never been hunting before, certainly not with him and presumably not Ingo. This would be her first kill and, occasionally, pups would get squeamish. It didn’t happen often, but they would suddenly get cold fins, and just couldn’t follow through with a kill. He should have guessed that Dawn would be similar. Ingo had had a similar reaction, but he quickly got over it out of necessity. So, he told her the same thing that he had told all the others in the past.

“Dawn, I know it’s hard, but this is something you have to learn to be comfortable with.”

Gaeric gestured to the flightless bird flopping around. When she didn’t look, he lifted her head with a knuckle placed under her chin. Dawn wouldn’t have expected him to be so gentle. Ingo treated her like glass, which was not within the norm with mers. They bit and scratched and roughhoused. This was completely unexpected of Gaeric.

Dawn emitted a sickened gurgle, averting her eyes away from Gaeric, away from the bird – there was nowhere else to look. Gaeric took up most of her field of vision and the penguin took up what remained. Her eyes snapped closed.

“I can’t,” she moaned, more to herself than the warden, “I can’t do it.” Her hands moved to cover her mouth and nose, trying to block out the assault to her senses.

In her head, she was trying to calculate how badly this would make her look in Gaeric’s eyes. Just because she was able to quell his lord and he was treating her with less suspicion than he usually did, Dawn knew he did not trust her. That was when a thought came to her.

She was alone with Gaeric. Completely alone. He could have been grilling her the whole time about her deal, which he had done in the past, but he was so caught up with hunting that he hadn’t. Without that distraction, without that ounce of “goodwill,” Gaeric had her in a very precarious position.

A palpable wave of anxiety rolled through her, her eyes widening and her nearly hidden ear pinning back, whole body eerily still – and the warden didn’t even seem to notice, already steamrolling into a lecture about the necessity of hunting because it was about survival in this dog-eat-dog world. If Dawn wasn’t feeling so sick to her stomach with fear, she would have found a way to tease him about how he sounded very similar to a certain someone in his clan.

“Do you really want this poor bird to wriggle around in the water until a different predator comes around and does the exact same thing? Because that’s what’s going to happen.”

He watched her wince, cowering to avoid looking at the penguin. He sighed. This might require a little more persuasion. What to do… He considered for a moment. By this point most pups would have gotten over their initial reaction and kill their prey, but Dawn was still resistant. He knew she was picky, but this was something she needed to grow out of for survival purposes. It was all well and good that Palina and Iscan and some of the others were trying to accommodate her picky habits, but Gaeric was trying to look at this realistically.

Food was calories and calories kept you alive. Hunting was what kept you alive and, well… death was a part of life. It wasn’t pretty, but it was necessary.

And she needed to learn for her own good.

Gaeric sighed. A deep, weary sigh that made Dawn peek at him through her fingers.

“We aren’t going anywhere until you kill this penguin.”

“B-But-”

“We have all day. If this one dies, then I’m going to get another until you do what I’m asking you to do.”

The horror in her dark eyes was enough to solidify Gaeric’s resolve. If she didn’t want to be seen as a baby by the older mers, then this was the first step, so he wasn’t going to let her wiggle her way out of this with that silver tongue of hers.

He could have predicted the quick dart to his flank, trying to outmaneuver him with her speed, but he was used to pups. She smacked into his palm at full force and reeled back with a dazed oof! No amount of pleading and crying would sway him, and she could tell he meant what he said, they weren’t going anywhere until Dawn killed it.

On a fundamental level, she knew this was a teaching moment that was meant to strengthen the bond between her and the warden and to hone her hunting skills, but Dawn was also Laventon’s research assistant! She had spent nearly two weeks alongside the professor studying all the animals that the mers ate! She couldn’t do it. Not in good conscious to her researcher nature.

She tried anyway. Grimacing at the bird with a tightness in her throat as she turned her gaze to Gaeric, mouth open only to be cut off.

“No.” He said preemptively. “You’re going to do this. I know you can do it – so do it.”

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There was a long stretch where Dawn just couldn’t move, unable to look at the writhing Adélie and trying to ignore it as it made the more horrible screeching noises. She was hoping that a different predator would swoop in and snag the bleeding penguin by now, but Gaeric was an active deterrent.

The warden seemed to possess infinite patience, preventing her escape with such ease that Dawn found it frustrating. Even when she thought she was being slick when she tried to clamber onto one of the chunks of ice when she was permitted to take another lungful of air, he instantly scooped her up and plopped her back in front of the bird.

In a test of wills, Dawn knew who the winner would be; Gaeric could and would throw his weight around to make her commit the gruesome act. She actually started yelling at him when her frustration at the situation boiled over and, still, he remained resolute, nudging her back toward the penguin indifferently even as she tried to push back against his hand with every ounce of strength in her small body.

“Kid, you have to do this. That bird is suffering, you need to put it out of its misery.”

“You’re the one who hurt it!”

Dawn wriggled, squirming between his fingers, but he held her tail fast between his middle and pointer finger. He swung her back around and that’s when she started baring her teeth at her in a poor attempt to assert herself. Gaeric didn’t let that stand. A low growl resonated in his throat, leaning into Dawn’s space, and narrowing his eyes with a snarl on his lips. She wasn’t intimidating him, and she was quick to cower at his display.

When Gaeric didn’t release her tail and held her in front of the penguin, Dawn knew she was out of options and that frightened her. Her chest and throat grew tighter.

“I can’t – please don’t make me.”

“It’s for your own good, Dawn. Trust me.”

He sensed the change in her demeanor, his perseverance had worn her down, and, although she was trying to stifle her sobs, she was trying to reach for the penguin.

“It’s going to try to snap at you, but you need to take it with your hands by its beak and twist its neck until it snaps. It’s going to seem like a lot more, but also somehow less, pressure than you think you’ll need, but that’s something you get used to.”

She sobbed as she clamped the bird’s beak shut, scooping up the Adélie’s body in up against hers. She nearly vomited as the penguin writhed desperately, its heart pounding so fast and hard that it almost made her drop it in fear. The encouragement over her shoulder was not helping, even if it was meant to be.

Her hands shook violently, unable to perform the motion Gaeric described and unable to open her mouth to beg him to let her go. It was pointless, he wouldn’t, she had to do this. Dawn whispered an apology to the struggling bird and was about to jerk her limbs to get it over with, but that’s when she noticed Gaeric’s grip had loosened.

She cautiously turned her head only to see a look on Gaeric’s face that shook her to the very core. Dawn only saw him in profile, but his ears were pressed nearly flat against his head, his eyes opened wide with dark pupils shrunk to three-quarters of their size, and – she had never seen so many sharp teeth.

Without a word, Gaeric scooped her and the bird up, and moved fast. Dawn barely had time to ask what was happening, he unceremoniously shoved them into a niche in the blue white of the glacial ice.

“What’s-”

“Stay here. Don’t come out until I come get you.”

“But what’s-”

Dawn tried to say, deliberately ignoring what Gaeric had said by trying to slide out, but he was quick to push her back in the crevasse.

“Stay put.” He growled and, this time, Dawn obeyed, fear rooting her to the spot. She did catch Gaeric hissing something under his breath just before he darted out of sight. “Those damn ships…”

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Gaeric was sufficiently deep that the ship sitting atop the wave would have no idea what lurked beneath them. A fury was burning inside him, his eyes narrowing as the ship moved closer in the direction of the settlement. He had been too distracted by Dawn to notice the ship sooner and it was far too close for comfort, just beyond the sheet of ice like they had been following the coastline from their settlement.

The humans weren’t paying attention.

So, he would make them pay attention.

Irida had asked him to deploy nonviolent methods and, thus far, he had obeyed his mentee out of respect for her and for her title as leader. He had dragged many ships to their doom against sharp, rock outcrops and glaciers, some he had capsized with the motions of his massive tail, and other times just used his immense strength to snap off vital pieces to stop their forward progress.

The ships kept coming though. It’s like the humans never ran out of the damn things! He knew Mai had handled one or two that got too close to the Diamond clan and he had disabled or destroyed more than he could count on his fingers, and they still didn’t stop coming.

Gaeric thought it was high time to be proactive about the human situation.

Even at this depth, Gaeric could hear the crew moving along the creaking wood, he could identify each one by the pitch and timbre of their voices. The crew wasn’t large. The water was absolutely silent and eerily still, nothing but he and the ship in the vicinity. The warden edged closer, remaining right beneath the craft, or at least, as much as he could manage. As much as he wanted to bust through the hull and give those arrogant humans a really good scare, he pushed down those instincts.

This ship was going to be demolished, smashed into smithereens to make a point – one that was jagged and razor sharp. His lips were pulled back over his teeth as he watched the prow cut through the glass-like surface of the water. It was a good day to be sailing, or it would have been if the ship had been anywhere else.

He was poised and ready to strike. Every muscle in his body coiled as he went over his plan again in his head. Gaeric would strike with his heavily muscled tail, using it like a battering ram to shatter the ship in two. What about the crew? A voice that sounded suspiciously like Ingo whispered in the back of his head (sort of an oxymoron in itself which helped Gaeric ignore the impending ramifications of his actions). The warden growled under his breath, shaking his head as if to loosen the thought’s hold on him.

Nothing was going to stop him. He would accept whatever punishment Irida dished out because he was doing this for the continued protection of his people. It would be worth it if his clan could survive another day. This ship and every other one that came into their territory – he would break each and every vessel until the humans had nothing but logs lashed together with hemp to take on the rough seas.

Gaeric surged forward with a blinding speed, ready to make his steep descent back into the depths to maximize the damage on the clueless vessel. The silence of the water would have felt deafening, had his ears not picked up a noise that made him stop dead in his tracks. A panic struck the warden like lightning as he heard the noise again. Instantly, his attack on the ship was forgotten, the crew none the wiser of the near miss as Gaeric tore off in the direction he had come from as another scream reached his ears.

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Dawn hadn’t exactly meant for this scenario to be playing out as it was. The second she heard Gaeric saying something about ships, she knew that it had to be one of the Galaxy Team’s, a research vessel or fishing boat. The Ginkgo Guild didn’t head toward the northern shores for much of anything, it didn’t intersect with their trade routes, so it was extremely unlikely to be one of their trade ships.

She panicked.

Gaeric would no doubt be pissed, but Dawn needed to stop him. He had already done a lot of damage and that only made Kamado double down on his efforts to map out the icelands so fewer ships would be lost. It was a never-ending cycle.

She was peeking out of the crevasse that Gaeric had unceremoniously stuffed her into for her own protection. Nothing to see, nothing to hear – the ocean around her was lifeless. It was creepy. Even the penguin behind her was silent, but she was afraid to look around at it. Dawn didn’t want to see if it had finally succumbed to its wounds. 

The idea of sharing a small space with a dead animal made her almost as sick as she had been as Gaeric had been encouraging her to snap the penguin’s neck. Blindly reaching behind her, Dawn flapped around to find the carcass to shove it out of there. Over her internal mental anguish, she did not realize there was one sound she was hearing, ears flicking in the direction of it but listening passively.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

She mumbled, nearly in tears as she managed to get a hand on the Adélie and was about to push it out of the crevasse when she heard the noises that she had subconsciously been hearing but not registering. Dawn jerked her head, a clicking that sounded familiar but also sent a chill down her spine. Ingo made those sounds sometimes. The sharp squeaks when he attempted to communicate with someone (or ones) no longer at his side. If she could hear it, then it was already too late.

All her disgust was instantly replaced with terror, and she wasted no time, grabbing the Adélie and shoving it out of there just as a massive shadow blotted out the light. Dawn slapped her hands over her mouth, squelching the scream that was pressing against her lower ribs. From her vantage, she could see the penguin floating in the water, its form lifeless and slowly sinking. A dark snout nudged it curiously, a second snout appearing on the other side and nudging it in confirmation.

There was a voice in her head screaming at her that was a mix of her own, Ingo’s, Laventon’s, and every other mer she had ever spoken to get out of there. Not safe. Danger. Predator. Move. Escape!

What had Gaeric said earlier? If she needed to breathe, the clan had made air holes.

Dawn raised her eyes to the top of the crevasse and, true to the warden’s word, there was a small shaft of light. Thank Sinnoh for the foresight of the clans. She moved quietly, not that the orcas could do a whole lot if she was up on the ice, but she didn’t want to attract any attention whatsoever. She reached the hole, a smaller one that had partially frozen over but was clearly made for a mers smaller than Gaeric, Ingo, or even Mai and Adaman, and poked her head out, taking a deep breath of cold air.

She was about to put her hands on the ice to clamber out when she felt her whiskers twitch and something deep in her gut told her to stay low. The sheet of ice seemed barren, but something was setting off a danger alarm in her brain.

Time slowed, all other sounds fell away, even the sounds of the orcas in the water, and Dawn heard something crunching the snow under its feet. The crunching got louder, the sound blurring into one as it got closer, and Dawn did scream this time, ducking back into the water and getting as far away from the air hole as an enormous paw reached through to swipe at nothing. A furry paw as pale as the ice around it fumbled for the prey it knew was down there and Dawn couldn’t stop screaming, alerting all the predators around her.

The polar bear was just able to shove its head through the hole, thank the gods it had shrunk from its previous size, and it blinked at her, beady black eyes following her movements as she tried to get further away. The orcas, now quite alert of one prey in the water, and most likely the bear on the ice, were crowding around the crevasse, squeaking and pushing their snouts into the crack. The bear must have also registered their presence, but seemed to hesitate, weighing its options before two-inch long claws began to tear through the ice. The promise of an easy meal that had nowhere to run just below the ice – if it could make a hole big enough for it to get through.

The orcas were of no consequence to the large land mammal, they couldn’t move tons of ice to force their way into the crevasse, but it did make Dawn a sitting duck. All she could do was scream. Trapped between a rock and a hard place, so Laventon was wont to say. Stuck between two mouth loads (possibly more since orcas moved in pods) of conical teeth and four paws decked with razor sharp claws and a mouth big enough and strong enough to crush her skull.

She was going to die.

Ice crunched all around her, the bear’s paw slapping the water as it excavated the ice piece by piece. Behind her, the orcas squealed and kept throwing her into darkness. Fear was tightening around her lungs and heart, making it hard to think about anything due to lack of oxygen. Everything had finally been going so well! She had quelled the frenzied nobles and the seas had stopped slowly rising. Jubilife was safe for a little longer. People had stopped looking at her with suspicion and she finally felt comfortable in the mer communities that had opened their arms to her.

Now it was all about to come to an end because she couldn’t kill an already doomed penguin.

Dawn didn’t realize she was crying, her tears just mixed with the cold water while she sank lower into the crevasse, as far away from either party as she could get from, but it wouldn’t matter. Gaeric was going to destroy a ship in broad daylight and Dawn was going –

Outside, the orcas were squeaking in agitation as she picked up something with her sensitive ears. Something massive tearing through the water at a breakneck pace.

“Gaeric!”

Dawn had never screamed so loud in her life. The sounds of the bear and the cetaceans were drowned out by her deafening cries.

The fear in her voice only spurred Gaeric to go even faster until – there! Two orcas were poised and waiting in the exact place he had left Dawn, the ignored remains of the penguin he had caught drifting into the abyss with their attention focused on the alive and panicked prey hiding within.

Orcas, like all their cetacea cousins, were intelligent. Orcas in particular are adept hunters and they enjoyed playing with their food before they ate it. Gaeric wasn’t exactly sure why. He wasn’t sure if animals were capable of cruelty like mers and humans were, but he knew that they acted beyond what was necessary to acquire prey. This wasn’t a particularly favorable match up, Gaeric was big, but orcas weren’t exactly small, and they had numbers on their side. Admittedly less numbers than would be normal for the species, but Gaeric wasn’t about to question it, and he hoped, in the back of his head, that that didn’t come back to bite him.

He launched himself like a missile through the water, leading with his shoulder to slam into the unprotected flank of the closer orca. By this point, the warden wasn’t even speaking intelligibly, just hissing and spitting and roaring – because how dare they. How dare they attack his little protégé when she was already going through her own emotional turmoil. He had been so caught up with the creaking and sloshing of the ship in the distance, Gaeric hadn’t noticed the threat around him, and by extension, Dawn.

Without even looking, he knew the other orca was coming toward him. They were faster, but Gaeric was smarter. Just a few well-placed hits - claws digging into sensitive spots like eyes and enough whacks with his heavily muscled tail, then the pair would be on their way.

“Gaeric!”

He could hear her yelling, but he didn’t understand why. He was managing the threat. The whales would be gone soon and then he would take her back to the settlement. This and the penguin were enough trauma for one day.

His claws raked into the underside of the orca, tinging the blood pink as it wailed. What he didn’t need was for them to attract others, he needed just enough time to get Dawn and hightail it out of there because taking on a pod was out of the question. Even if he had Ingo by his side, orcas were meticulous and savage when they chose to be.

“Gaeric! Help!”

Can’t divert his attention now! The orcas were falling back, fleeing into the gloom with high pitch whines that were sure to draw in others in their pod.

“BEAR!”

Bear?

That’s when Gaeric heard the low grumbles and huffs, something big splashing into the water. Like it was in slow motion, he saw Dawn dart towards him as the whales fled, only to see her get jerked back violently.

A polar bear.

An old and all too familiar dread suffocated him. His body was moving even before the electrical impulses raced from his brain to his limbs. His fury blinded him, only allowed to because his thoughts weren’t there. Gaeric was lost to time. Frozen in the memory of another young protégé in mortal peril because he acted stupidly.

Gaeric had promised himself – promised himself – that this wouldn’t happen again.

And yet.

No more blood. No more traumatized pups. No more mistakes.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dawn was too busy trying not to get mauled to see exactly what Gaeric was doing, but the polar bear was alternatively swiping at her and ripping up chunks of ice to get better access to her. The surveyor just kept screaming for the warden with each swipe that came closer, with every scoop of ice that provided a bigger hole for the arctic predator.

It was getting dangerously close now, its head and shoulders almost squeezing through –

There was an agitated squeaking that only grew more distant. Gaeric must have run the orcas off. She just needed to get to him. Dawn darted for the crevasse, even spotting the blue haired warden beyond, looking uninjured, but quite agitated himself.

“BEAR!”

She shrieked at the top of her lungs, but it was too late. The sheet of ice that had been protecting her finally caved in and the polar bear was in the water with her paddling toward her with urgency. A massive paw slammed into her side, knocking the wind out of her and five claws bit through her uniform and into her abdomen.

The last thing she really saw before a flurry of colors was Gaeric’s expression. She had never seen him look scared before. He prided himself on being strong and brave for the sake of the clan, but that heartbeat before he was on top of the pair, Dawn had never seen that look on his face. A haunted look in those blue eyes.

It was a flurry of limbs, the water churning, and the bellowing that almost deafened her, but she saw it all. Her head might have been spinning because of how much she had been flung around (and blood loss), but she watched Gaeric take the bear’s neck and, exactly as he explained to her with the penguin, twisted it sharply.

The snap was the most sickening thing Dawn had ever heard. It made each individual hair on her body stand up and she did actually vomit this time (although, that also might have been her body’s reaction to the severe trauma). Things were moving much too fast. Gaeric was quick to drag her and the bear away, grab his net load of penguins that was swaying in the current at the bottom, and hightailed it out of there before anything else could happen.

So, Dawn saved a ship, at the cost of having a nasty gash through her uniform, unaware just how bad the injury beneath was.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gaeric physically cringed as Ingo got in his face. It was the first and only time the larger warden had ever gotten confrontational with any member of Pearl clan, and it was downright frightening. It was easy to forget just how dangerous Ingo could be if he only chose to. It was easy to grow complacent with that knowledge in mind, that Ingo chose kindness and patience when he didn’t have to be.

Right now, Ingo was not choosing to be anything other than pure rage. A deep, foreign growl resonated in his chest as he demanded to know what happened because his pup was hurt and Gaeric looked remarkably unharmed.

To his credit, Gaeric was willing to take whatever Ingo had to dish out at him on the chin. He failed as a guardian. He failed to keep a pup under his watch safe and now she was getting treatment for wounds inflicted by the polar bear. So, he was willing to accept whatever punishment Ingo was inevitably building toward. In all his years of knowing Ingo, he had never seen him so angry, but before this last year, he never had anything he cared so deeply for. Yes, Ingo was loyal to the clan and devoted to his ward, but Dawn was different. For him, Dawn was family, and for Gaeric to be so careless - it was tantamount to something happening to Irida on Ingo’s watch.

Ingo listened to the story, his hands curled into tight fists as Irida watched on, cautioning him by repeating his name because she didn’t want nor need infighting between her wardens, not with how the sea was so intent on swallowing up the region – humans and nobles included. With a shaking hand, Ingo jabbed a finger into Gaeric’s chest, right in the center of his clan crest, and rumbled dangerously low,

“You had better pray to Sinnoh that she recovers.”

They all knew that Dawn would be just fine, Ingo was just veiling his threat – if anything like this happens again, I will not be so forgiving. Gaeric had narrowly avoided Ingo’s considerable wrath. The cavern was silent in the wake of Ingo’s departure, everyone collectively holding their breath until Irida exhaled slowly. Her wardens followed suit. Catastrophe avoided, they all waited for the medic to be done tending to Dawn so Ingo could see her and start to calm down.

[itsguysnightitsironic]

"Eat your young before they eat you."

So anyways, I'm team hags now, the world hates a girlboss--

[anti-joesystem]

whats wrong with joe :c

Wow our first ask! We've been meaning to make a post about this topic for a while.

We know this was most likely asked as a joke. However, there is an actual reasoning behind it. In short, hating Joe is one of the ways we coped with our depression because he was the "manifestation" of our depression and negative thoughts. More information below the cut.

If the topic in this post makes anyone uncomfortable, we will be tagging Joe as his own trigger warning, since any mention of him /will/ have dark themes. We'll also tag all other potential triggers.

Tw: mental health, suicide, death threats, physical fights and alter death

Fallenmoon: Joe is the name of one of our old alters! He and Moonfall formed from the little voices in my head that were caused by depression. Joe was that little voices that told me negative things and Moonfall was the voice that told me he was wrong. When he became a fully fledged headmate he was constantly trying to convince me to kill myself. He disappeared (most likely died) after we started taking depression meds.

Moonfall: To add onto what Fallenmoon said, me and Joe would often get in physical fights. If he couldn't convince Fallenmoon to kill the body, then he would front by force and do it himself. He also often threatened to kill Fallenmoon's baby bird.

[griancraft]

My dad poured a bit of wine on our cat and when I told him that alcohol is toxic to cats he told me maybe he should go get some more. He then kicked the wine bottle over and then towards the cat. This is so fucking gross man I don’t think I can enjoy Christmas until I’m gone

[gastromancer]

Hey if you live in the United States please sign & share this petition to hold an animal torturer who got off scot-free accountable.

Wyoming man Cody Roberts intentionally chased down & ran over a wild wolf pup yearling with his snowmobile. The animal was seriously crippled, but not killed.

Roberts proceeded to take the animal— still alive and grievously wounded— and duck-taped its mouth shut so he could parade it around town, showing it off to people. He went to a local bar and showed the pup (still alive) off to his friends, before finally taking it out back and shooting it. He and his family posted photos online showing off the bound & gagged injured wolf, bragging about what they had done. The photo displayed in the link is of him posing with the still-alive wolf pup in that bar.

Roberts’ “penalty” for this sadistic act of animal cruelty was to pay a fine of $250. Yes, that was it.

The above petition is to call for Roberts to face actual felony charges for what he did. It only takes a few seconds to sign and a minute to share, and it could be big if this goes through and something gets done about it. Please help!

[escapeaddict]

I strongly dislike time travel

so I thought

what if an AU where Chat Blanc just... happened

no do-overs

just a post-apocalyptic Paris

and then I wrote a thing

The shattered moon shone weakly down on a broken Paris, casting its blackened bricks and sooty pavement into stark relief. Scummy water lay stagnant and still in the Seine, so dark its oily surface did not reflect the wavering starlight back at the sky. Filth and muck mired the sidewalks, garbage rotted in its rooted-through bins, and flakes of ash choked the low-hanging air. Charcoal husks of the calamity’s initial victims crumbled into dust, fresher bodies decomposed in the streets, and the hanging carcasses of angrily harpooned cats adorned the walls. The silence of the death-filled city was deafening, and every breath, every heartbeat, had the potential to betray a person’s location.

Chat Blanc prowled across rooftops, drying blood on his silver claws, white leather suit smudged with black and stained with crimson, and scanned the darkness with ice-blue eyes. Below him, a tall girl with long matted hair slipped quietly into a half-collapsed apartment building, a large drawstring bag of scavenged supplies on her back. Chat Blanc dropped from the roofs to the street-level, landing softly on all fours, sniffing the air. Even now, weeks after the disaster, beneath all the grime and the unwashed stink, the girl had a familiar scent, no matter how hard she tried to mask it from the akuma’s sharpened senses. Chat Blanc pricked up his ears at the sound of murmurs from within, voices he recognized from a former life.

He smiled, baring his needle-like fangs.

A mother, a sister, and a brother. A family of music lovers.

Tonight, the last name would be struck from the list of her classmates.

And then he would yowl at the sky, alone and supreme, king of a ruined world that fell, unasked for, at his feet.

[batwynn]

Tw: animal harm

I used to live in a costal city with a lot of seagulls and pigeons, and the ‘cool’ thing to do was hate both of those birds like it was an entire personality type. To the point where one day I was at the grocery store and I saw a seagull in the middle of the road that had obviously been hurt. It was an extremely busy road and nothing I could do would get people to stop. Not a single person even tried to avoid hitting this very still alive bird. It only avoided getting hurt further by sheer luck. I immediately looked up local bird rescues and called them. The complete shock I was met with for calling them for help with a seagull made me want to cry. They thanked me profusely for calling them. Because ‘No one ever calls for seagulls.’ They let me know that one of their team was on their way immediately. I wish I knew what happened to that gull, but unfortunately I wasn’t able to follow up because life’s a nightmare.

Anyway. I wish every person who are more than fine to leave seagulls to die a very bad time.

The way people demonize seagulls is actually unreal. Almost all of their natural habitat has been destroyed (almost all coastal areas have been developed, destroying natural sand dune ecosystems) and they're doing their best to adapt. They're literally just trying to survive. You're in their home. The vitriol some people have for these gorgeous sea birds just because they're not shy about snatching food if you're not cautious is insane

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - non/con, kidnapping, LOTS of non-consensual touching, threats of violence, implied public sex, and unbalanced power dynamics.

Geto Suguru is a surprisingly tactile man.

You wouldn't expect it from a man so cold, so withdrawn, so prone to keeping his hands tucked in his sleeves away from any filthy, undeserving lesser beings like yourself, but it's not hard to spot once you know what you're looking for. When his girls were young enough to put up with it, he always had at least one, if not both of them in his arms, and his preferred form of greeting towards those in his select, but not exclusive inner circle has always been a hug, kiss, or some combination of both. Even when he claims he can't stand to look at you, when he orders you to bathe in scalding-hot water before admitting you so much as might be worth of his affections, he never lasts more than a few minutes before slipping in beside you with excuses of 'you're not thorough enough' or 'I can't even trust you to do this correctly' ready on his tongue. It might be sweet, if it wasn't so controlling. You're not really in a place to complain, though.

He likes keeping you close. For someone he claims is nothing more than a pest, he treats you akin to a lapdog; constantly calling your name, constantly petting through your hair, constantly keeping you pressed against his side or slotted against his chest or perched on his lap, an arm as thick as your leg wrapped around your waist to better snuff out your attempts to squirm. Any attempts to withdraw before he allows you to are met with punishments of the most severe order. You don't like being at his beck and call, having to sit through his depraved sermons for the sole reason that he doesn't trust you to leave his sight, but it's better than being shackled to his bedpost for another four weeks. You can be a lapdog, so long as you aren't a collared one.

Even the politest touch he offers you is unspeakable invasive. You're not sure how he manages to turn something as simple and as shallow as grazing you're lower back into yet another show of his authority over you. Part of it just might be the whole 'genocidal cult leader' shtick (it's hard not to find someone a little creepy after they've abducted, tortured, and traumatized you), but you'd like to think that even if you had entered into his company more willingly, you'd still find his intimacy more than a little off-putting. The worst of it comes at night, when he assumes you're asleep. The way he holds you to his chest, clings to you like a child does a stuffed animal might be cute in another context, but it rarely serves to endear him to you. If anything, it only proves that even unconscious, his greatest pleasure in life is smothering you.

Worst of all, he's handsy. That, in itself, shouldn't be all that surprisingly, but the lecherousness of it, the shameless of it still manages to leave you as disgusted as you are unnerved. It's rare for a full hour to pass in his company without his hand slipping under the collar of the silken kimono's he dresses you in and groping at your best until he's left indents in the shape of his blunt nails. Other times, his fingers will find their way underneath your skirts or into the waistband of your shorts while he's preoccupied with another matter, splitting you open on his fingers with all the attention one might pay to tying their shoes or brushing their hair. If you're lucky, he'll choose a private moments, one where you'll be forced to fall apart for his entertainment alone, tucked safely away from the prying eyes of his co-conspirators and congregation.

You don't get lucky very often.

Sometimes, you think he does it just to be cruel. He does most things to be cruel, and this would be far from the only way he's cruel to you, in particular. But, when drapes himself over you at night, when he drags you so suffocatingly close to his side, when he grinds his palm into your most sensitive point of vulnerability and whispers so possessively that you ought to be thankful for each second long he lets you live, it's not cruelty you see in Suguru's dark eyes, but rather something much, much more dangerous.

Desperation.

[mamayan]

You up? Give us some delicious yandere stuff 🙏 let's say... Fae King yandere and changeling darling 😏✨

This turned into a full fic :3 ~★ In honor of some monster fucking!

Yandere! Dark Fae King x Darling! Changeling

tw: NSFW • Obsessive/Possessive Themes • Non-Human Morality • Kidnapping • afab Reader • Dubcon • Oral (F) • Grooming (reader is of consenting adult age) • Forced Mating • Imprisonment • Violence (not toward reader) • Implied Murder • Rough Sex • Praise • Overstimulation • Dumbification • Belly Bulge • Size Kink

Part Two: Here

“…hic…sniff…”

Dark eyes glanced into the cool night, curious as to what creature was disturbing his evening.

“…hic…” it came again, much to his chagrin.

The still lake reflected the full moon like a mirror. To his left, not too far off, he honed in on the disturber. Something small and curled up. Shaking. The oddity enough to catch his full attention as he stood silently. The night his home and prison as he swiftly left in a puff of smoke over to the location of his intruder.

You.

His first instinct to end your miserable life, a human somehow entering his domain and crossing his barriers, but upon a closer look… he realized you were of his own kind.

A changeling at that. An abandoned fae left to die in the hands of mortals. Few if any live to maturity like this, but your short human stature led him to believe your growth was surely stunted due to neglect. Young fae needed abundant love and care in their infancy, the first 100 years of life incredibly crucial for their development. Least they end up like him and his kingdom. You were even younger than full maturity, though your physical body had completed it’s growth, your magic was weak and juvenile.

You were making odd noises which drew his curiosity, moving closer to your form, face buried in your lap as you hunched over your drawn up legs. Your feet were bare as the edges of the water lapped at them. Clothing sparse and tattered, rags unfit for even a human, let alone a Fae nearing maturity.

“Noisy little thing,” he hums aloud, startling you as you jolt and nearly throw yourself into the water. Your neck snaps up, pretty face swollen and blotchy from tears looking up and up until you saw a creature looming over you.

Your scream is cut off by a clawed dark hand, slapping over your mouth and muffling the cry as you try to jerk away in fear and panic. He watches in mild amusement, snickering as you realize your struggle is futile and efforts dying down. “Scream if you like, but none other than I will hear it out here.” He assures ominously, thin onyx colored lips pulling back to bare his razor sharp canines and pearly teeth at you. His grin savage and delighted in your terror.

He watches curiously as your wide doe eyes well up with tears, the crystalline droplets spilling up and over your cheeks, soft lips quivering beneath his palm. You reminded him of an animal imploring their predator for mercy by revealing their underbelly. There was a word for it…

Cute. His mind conjured at last. He found you cute, a changeling bold enough to intrude into the kingdom of the corrupted. You hadn’t even dropped the mirage covering you, old magic from your biological family still covering your natural appearance to mimic the human you parasitized off the life of.

“Why do you cry little one?” He asks softly, attempting not to terrify you further and avoid his questions.

You hesitate, but his molten gold eyes seem to melt through your defenses despite his dangerous and beautiful appearance. “I’m wrong,” you sniffle, grateful when he removes his enormous hand off your face, the sharp claws tipped in gold frightening against your soft breakable skin. “All wrong… and I don’t know what to do.” You curl back up around yourself, as if he too will cast judgement upon you.

He awkwardly mimics your stance, curiosity blazing as watches you in fascination. You find the way his monstrously large form contorts to sit like you somewhat baffling and amusing, less frightened now that he doesn’t seem to wish you harm.

“How are you wrong then?” He pries further, cupping his defined jaw and leaning into his hand as he observes.

“I’m not…I’m not human—I’m a—a—,” you stumble, unsure if this night is even real anymore. The shock so great you’re still trying to cope.

“A faery?” He supplies, amused by the way you gesture with your hands, expression so open and easy to read. “A changeling raised amongst humans to feed off their happiness?” His deep voice purrs it happily, as if he’s glad for it.

He is. His hatred of humans not something he feels the need to hide.

You appear devastated though, “I didn’t mean to—I don’t want to hurt or make anyone unhappy.” You mumble miserably, tugging at your hair and skin, as if that will dispel the magic which hides your true appearance.

“That’s just how our kind is, we need that happiness to grow properly.” He rubbles, eyeing your shocked expression. “We also happen to be fickle creatures ironically, and if a newborn is thought to need too much care, it is pawned off on humans who have more patience.” He clarifies, smiling as you seem to take him in with new eyes.

“You— are you a faery too? You just seem…” he chuckles as you awkwardly trail off.

“Evil? Centuries ago humans once called me the devil,” he laughs, his dark hair falling into his face like a waterfall as he shakes the loose fluffy curls, his pointed horns jutting from the top of his forehead jet black and smooth like ivory. He was too beautiful to call a devil, though you supposed it could be because of that which he was deemed so. His every feature seeming to catch your gaze with it’s beauty.

“I was going to say different…” you trail off shyly. “You don’t seem evil to me at least.”

He pauses, taking you in again as you regard him with those harmless eyes still wet with drying tears. It’d been centuries too since he’d left his kingdom, the entrance to the veil this lake he occasionally comes up to lounge by. He hasn’t seen a human since then, let alone a changeling or uncorrupted little faery like you.

He likes those pretty tears. He finds it annoying you shed them for humans you should guiltlessly take from.

His smile widens, eyes glittering mischievously and nearly glowing as he leans closer. The smell of sugar and cinnamon wafting off of him as you breathe in, nearly gasping as your mouth waters.

“How’s this little one? I’ll teach you how to be a faery, to show you there is nothing wrong with you.”

His eyes, where they should be white are entirely inky black, golden irises with reddened pupils framed by dark thick lashes, looked sincerely upon you.

He seemed genuine and kind despite his towering humanoid figure which looked to be capable of killing you easily.

It warmed you though, the thought of wanting to belong strong as you nod with a smile.

“I’d be eternally grateful.” You nod.

Sealing your fate.

“Tell me your name.” He asks sweetly, because despite his menacing size and sharp teeth and nails, your new friend was nothing but kind and gentle with you.

“Y/N” you reply easily, letting him playfully ruffle your hair as he picks out the leaves which got tangled in your locks from your travels here.

When he repeats it though, wonderful shivers shoot down your spine. He smiles, cooing at you like one might a baby as a he teases, “Such a cute name for a cute faery.”

You weakly protest, but fall into easy laughter as he swiftly changes the subject.

He was discussing proper fae etiquette. The basics, to not say please or thank you or I’m sorry. They all meant you expected more from the other or wouldn’t reciprocate, and that was just bad manners.

His soft hands, which could easily cover your entire face, were settled on your upper arms, having sat you in the grass against his chest.

He liked holding you close. Your little figure so soft, and from the dark circles beneath your human appearance, he assumed the neglect from the humans you resided amongst was growing worse. It was bad for your development.

“You should come live out here, they are vile creatures you know.” He comments every time you visit, though he never forces you to stay with him.

“It’s because I make them unhappy…” you explain sheepishly.

He shakes his head, thick brow arching as he rolls his eyes. “You are nearly completely mature now, you suck no happiness from your surroundings anymore silly girl.” Your confusion was palpable as he sighs and further explains, enjoying the squish of your tender flesh as he lightly squeezes you.

“While it is true fae infants are quite the hassle to raise, it isn’t as tortuous as humans make it out to be. In fact, most fae will take their child back if not treated well by their human surrogates.”

You hum, relaxing back against his warm chest and breathing in his sugary scent.

“So why wasn’t I—,” you stop short, brows furrowed but no longer speaking.

He doesn’t pry further, leaning his chin atop your head as he looks out at the lake.

“You won’t tell me?” You push, annoyed how he dances around your question endlessly. Your companion close enough that you feel insulted he won’t reveal it.

“My name is not to be uttered aloud, least calamity befall this land~” he’s teasing, you know he is, but still he refuses to divulge his name. “I gave you mine,” you argue again, huffing as he chuckles and lightly shoves you to your back on the grass, leaning over you and caging you in beneath him.

The moon is bright like the first time you’d met, illuminating his other worldly beauty.

“If you wish to call me something, call me Master,” he laughs, his sharp teeth no longer scaring you, but making your thighs squeeze together whenever he flashes them. He acts nothing like an immortal being, too immature and jovial to resemble someone having lived for thousands of years.

“So why do you get my name, but I don’t get yours?” You question in annoyance, avoiding his kiss to your cheek by jerking your face away. He huffs, sharp gaze daring you to dodge again.

You do. Earning yourself a warning nip to your collarbone as you yelp.

“Mean!” You cry, pushing at his chest as he snickers.

“Yes little flower, I am very, very, mean.” He rumbles, chest literally vibrating much like a cat does to purr.

“You give me weird nicknames…” you mutter, giving up as he licks your cheek. You don’t fight it, even as it feels foreign to you, trying to accept this side of your culture.

He licks your neck, lavishing the point where your pulse races with wet kisses and you tremble and struggle to act unaffected beneath him.

His smile is dangerous outside your view.

“Star!” You giggle, his rumble of irritation not the least intimidating to you as you roll away.

“That is an awful nickname.” He hisses, face twisted in disgust as you throw out the most horrendous names you could conjure in your pretty head at him.

“Lumi!” He growls.

“Then… Kitty?” He nearly bites you, careful not to play too roughly as he lightly tackles you down.

“If I give you a nickname, will you cease your little game?” He feels his anger fade as he wraps his arms around your smaller figure, easily pulling you into his lap. You don’t even flinch, too engrossed in your amusement to care where he handles you. You nod happily, your wish finally being fulfilled.

“Very well you stubborn creature,” he chides, “In addition to Master, you may also call me King.”

You frown. Clearly displeased by the lack of intimacy in the name. He laughs, amused by your obvious dislike. He kisses your puffed cheeks, over your pouty lips, and down to your vulnerable neck. Snickering as he goes, adoring how you so easily become pliant for him.

“I am teasing pretty flower, there was a time long ago I was called Ava, will you settle now?” He asks, voice husky as he sucks a mark into your skin, your little whine flaring his desires.

A strong urge to press you down and mate you nearly overpowers his control, but he merely holds you close and breathes your floral scent in to calm himself.

“I still prefer Kitty…” His eye twitches.

“Ava… this feels weird…” he pauses, looking down at your small form still cloaked like a human. Weak beneath him, partially nude as your skirt is pulled up to your soft belly. Your thighs are spread and shaking, his lips sucking another mark onto the thin skin of your inner thigh while you writhe.

He had your wet dripping slit open to the night air and his lustful gaze, begging for his tongue to taste.

“You don’t want to please me?” He asks, purring as you pout but deny. You were such a good little girl for him after all, so eager to learn and soak up his attention.

He resumes, licking down your thigh until his face rested above the warm mound you so sweetly offered him.

“You’re being so good for me petal, can you keep your legs open or should I help you?” He doesn’t need to look up to know you’re shaking in arousal and embarrassment. He can feel the tremors through the air as you struggle to keep your thighs spread as he asked.

“I-I need help…” you admit, feeling terribly hot as he keeps licking you, except where you seem to ache for him to lick.

He easily shifts forward, arms wrapping around you and letting your legs rest over his shoulders as he finally lets his tongue slip out to taste you.

You glance down, choking at the sight and feeling as he lets his entire tongue come out, the appendage inhumanly long and colored purple. It feels strange, the wet slimy feeling of his tongue slithering through your folds, but when he nudges the tiny nub hidden above your slit, you moan.

It sends jolts of electricity through you, hips canting up so he can to lick there again, earning you a hearty chuckle as he obliges. Licking and even curling his tongue around it, riling you up as your tiny hole leaks arousal and drips down your ass to the earth below.

“You’re making a mess petal, do you feel good? Should I stick my tongue inside you this time?” You moan, feeling the muscle prod at your unused vaginal entrance, too hazy to bother responding. He doesn’t wait for your answer, letting the thin tip of his tongue lap and taste your heady desire before poking and wiggling inside you.

It has your legs shooting straight, back arching as he holds you down with one large hand placed over your belly and chest. He groans as he feels the molten texture of your insides struggling against his intrusion, trying to force him out of your tight heat as he surges forward.

The tip of his tongue curls, swirling up and knocking the air from your lungs as a rush of hot liquid spills from your insides for him to drink down.

You shook and twitched, moaning and curling your hands around his curved horns like a handle.

The touch sends blood racing to his cock, as he moans and loudly slurps your cum down with audible squelching, enjoying the cries you released into the quiet night.

He lets you rest as he pulls back for just a moment, your body limp and panting as your high comes down.

“Good girl~” he praises, leaning over you to kiss softly at your sweaty skin, licking that too and tasting the sweet and salty mixture.

Then he’s pressing his lips against yours, forcing them open to sneak his long tongue inside your mouth, filling it and claiming that space too as his own. You’re helpless to resist, delirious on pleasure as he devours you, wiggling muscle curling and rubbing erotically around your own.

He tastes like sugar and something heavier, more musky, as you come to realize it as your own taste.

“Is this… really normal…?” You can help but ask as he pulls away, his lips still sticking close to trail kisses across your skin.

“It’s quite normal little flower, are you shy still?” He asks curiously, lifting one of your small hands and bringing it to his face, his size dwarfing you considerably. He lightly nibbles on your fingers, making a giggle bubble up as you smile and then squirm when he grins and licks your hand instead.

“A little…” you admit honestly. Always so honest and open.

He nods, as if completely understanding.

“That’s alright, we’re in no rush, I’ll teach you slowly…” there’s something else not said in his words, and you’re left drunk on his pheromones and lips as he distracts you. Then he’s kissing down, discarding your clothing and leaving you naked for his mouth and curious fingers.

Your breasts are lavished in his saliva, pebbled nipples sucked until standing upright before poked down with the tip of his tongue playfully. Always so playful, Ava nips and teases your skin, blinking innocently when you moan and glare accusingly.

“It’s not my fault you enjoy this so much petal~” he pouts, looking comical and so harmless, his glittery gold wings, almost translucent behind him, fluttering as if indignant to your silent accusation.

The golden tattoos which marked his skin more visible tonight, his clothing more minimal in his wish to feel more of you as he explores and plays.

Then he’s parting your thighs and throwing you into ecstasy again.

“Who did it?”

You sat curled around yourself, terror and dread swirling inside of you at the new side of Ava you’d never been graced with before.

The side you supposed was reserved for his enemies, but now showed to you.

Despite your fear, the tears spilling down your cheeks, and the injuries you bore, you still remained stubbornly silent.

He was going insane with rage and anguish.

You truly were a flower. So delicate and easily destroyed.

“Y/N… while I am being reasonable…Tell. Me. Who. Did. It.”

For all the times he’d made himself smaller, less alarming and more charming than his true nature called for, it made this time more appallingly. He stood to his full height, like an unwavering tree he did not budge or allow you to leave, golden eyes flaring and mixing with his red pupils to create something alarming. Even the markings which covered his dark skin seemed to glow and match his eyes, magic crackling in the air and silencing the night further.

As if the stars and moon were frightened too.

Still, still, you did not speak, even as he closed in on you, your fear so strong it almost choked him. Almost. He was too angry, too furious with the humans he liked to cast out of his mind. They needed to be taught a lesson it seemed. Their fear of the Fae renewed. They were becoming arrogant, as if their species was even in the same standing as them.

Your pretty injured face and form, battered from abuse and humiliation, was all the information he truly needed.

If you wanted to protect them, and not tell him, then he’d just punish them all as if they were the culprits.

It soothed him finally, his decision made as the ominous energy around him faded slowly. He let his rage dissipate, worry and concern bleeding through now as he crouched and shuffled towards you, claws spread and outstretched towards you.

“Come here Y/N, keep your secrets, but allow me to hold and comfort you…” his eyes darkened, the glow leaving behind almost a copper color, somber as he looks at you. There’s not pity in his eyes though, as you swallow and sigh in relief, grateful to crawl into his warm embrace where it feels safe.

He’s gentle as he wraps you in his arms, lips and tongue soothing as he tastes your tears and blood.

He grits his teeth, focusing on your scent and the feel of you to calm himself again, before letting his magic seep into your skin. You easily absorbed it, soaking it up like a sponge as your pain and injuries heal.

“Ava—?” Your eyes widen, amazement in their depths which stroke his ego as he taps his forehead against your own. His horns slightly tangling in your hair.

“Do you not want to drop the illusion on yourself?” He asks softly, staring at the human image your portray. He didn’t want to admit it, but it enraged him to see you still trying to live amongst them.

You seem surprised, before looking away nervously.

“It just feels strange… to not see myself anymore,” you confess, burrowing deeper into his chest while enjoying his ability to heal and soothe you. His sugary smell lightening your heavy heart.

He nods slowly, eyes staring at nothing over the still lake.

He holds you a little tighter.

Then you’re asleep.

The burns and screams of the people echo, the night come to life with flames and chaos.

Ava stands leisurely, smile filled with fondness as he watches the human village he’d followed and found to be your residence burn.

He’d spent all night playing with them, listening to them confess the awful things they’d done to you, said to you, and tried to do to you. They even thought of sacrificing you to some nonexistent deity, which only prolonged the nightmare he’d turned the populace into.

He laughed as the sounds swirled into music for his ears, the sharp points curling in delight as he hummed a tune older than the trees towering in this forest.

The night was still coming to an end sadly, and he’d need to return to your unconscious body still where he’d left it.

He didn’t want to let you wake in your new home alone after all.

His body covered in the blood of mortals he’d torn into and feasted on, Ava left them to perish.

Alone you woke. In a bed four times the size of any normal one, within the walls of a palace you’d only ever seen depicted in stories told by faraway travelers.

You glanced down, at hands unlike ones you were accustomed to seeing. You were nude, unable to hide from yourself as you felt tears begin to sprout. The illusion magic wasn’t working, and you couldn’t understand why.

This body was your true form, not that of the human you continuously tried to convince yourself you were. You hadn’t showed Ava, too afraid he’d see your appearance and dislike you for it.

While he was magnificent, you felt puny and odd.

A hiss snatches you from your self loathing, eyes flicking up to land on the one you’d just been thinking of.

He was covered in something, though you weren’t entirely sure what until he moved closer. The pearls lining his chambers glowed softly, his appearance more vibrant as he closed the distance between himself and the bed you laid on.

You sucked in a breath, realization dawning as the red contrasts against his skin. His lower face completely smeared in it, but his lips seemed clean. Until he grinned, red stained sharp teeth with chunks of dark meat stuck in between.

You remembered briefly him mentioning being mistaken for a demon.

You finally understood as a strange fear blossomed in your gut and you scooted away. Confusion and terror consuming you, but your body not catching up with your mind, because it recognized his scent and touch. You didn’t move quick enough, a clawed hand easily curling around your ankle and tugging you close. You slid smoothly over the cool silk, brought close to his body radiating heat. He only wore trousers, his taloned feet bare and ankles revealed as he’d cuffed them up to avoid bloody human fingers trying to grip them.

“Oh my little flower, look at you,” his eyes are swirling melted gold, enchanting and so disorienting. His beauty becoming savage with the blood and human flesh he adorned.

“A-Ava…” you want to ask, but you also don’t want the answer.

Did he find out who hurt you? Or was it unrelated? It seemed too coincidental.

Your chest constricted painfully as he stared down at you in wonder. Your true form so lovely it took his breath away, your image so fitting for you it was a wonder why you didn’t prefer this over your human mirage. Your ears, pointed like his own, were curled down a little with your emotions, as his eyes traced your face.

The shape was the same, your body still so small, and your eyes still expressed every little thought without fail.

He hated to admit it was even cuter, though he mused it was likely because he was the first to see your true form.

An abandoned young changeling, one he only took mild interest in, had him so thoroughly ravenous for all of you now.

“Isn’t this more comfortable petal? Instead of masquerading as a filthy human, aren’t you happier to just be you now?” His callous words seem off, but you can’t quite fathom it all as the shock settles in.

“My precious flower faery, are you scared?” Yes, you wanted to scream, as his bloody face and body near you, his sugary scent over powered by the scent of iron and death. Fae hated iron. He shouldn’t be comfortable.

You choked, jerking back and trying to crawl away from him, but he still had your ankle caged in his hand.

He laughs, but it’s empty and devoid of any true humor as he stares down at you with something dark in his gaze.

He yanks you back, harshly and sending a jolt of pain up your leg as you cry out, pulled back beneath him as he crawls onto the bed over you.

He’s too close, nausea consuming you as you smell and see the gore adorning him.

He finds your useless fear amusing and annoying all at once.

“I asked you a question little flower.” He grips your face, smushing your cheeks and making you look at him.

He rolls his eyes as the tears you so love to shed spill down your cheeks.

“Yes… I-I’m scared…” his smile softens, almost becoming sweet and familiar.

“Good. You should be.” Your blood runs cold.

He has the mercy to bathe, but not alone. You watch as the spray of water from some sort of piping turns pink as it disappears through tiny holes in the marble floor.

He’s nude, like you, and even though you cower and try to turn away, he easily stops any and all retreats with hardly any effort.

“I thought you didn’t like the blood? I’m still not clean petal.” His fluffy curls are flattened by the water falling above, the warm spray soaking you both as you try not to wonder why the sticky redness won’t just wash away with the water. The dried portions difficult to get off without physically touching and rubbing him with your soapy hands. You wanted to know why he was doing this, being so mean.

His ears look more distinct with his hair flat, onyx horns prominent against his forehead as his lashes hold droplets of water to frame his golden eyes.

You try not to show it, but as the blood clears and his dark smooth gold lined skin is revealed, you notice the hard lines of muscle and purple veins which protrude.

You only come up just below his chest, and you can’t look down, least you see it again.

He was making you nervous and scared on purpose, but you couldn’t understand why.

Like a coward you didn’t ask either, because you feared the answer even more.

Ava shifts, fingers coming up to cup your face in his hands and tilt your head up as he leans over you and blocks the water falling. His claws jut out beside your head, one lightly tickling your pointed little ear.

He licks his lips, loving the sight of you soaked and naked, your pretty form so enthralling to his eyes he struggles to contain himself.

“Do you want my help…?” His tone is condescending, eyes uncaring in the least about your inner turmoil.

“Here,” he drops one hand, engulfing your wrist and forcing you to plant your hand against his abdomen. “You have to wash like this—,” he teaches patiently, like none of this was happening and everything was fine. He moves your soft little hand back and forth, the soap quick to wash away as the water continues to fall. “You need more soap petal.” He informs gently, moving to stop the warm spray and letting you both stand in silence now, drops of water falling the only noise besides your breathing.

He sighs when you don’t move, your eyes trained on the corner of the spacious bathing room, where an in ground bath rests. He would take you to the hot springs later.

He fills the hand he has control of with soap, and amuses himself with using it like a washcloth, your little fingers curling as your lips tilt down into a frown.

“Since you need the help,” he goads, watching as those sweet familiar doe eyes flash up a glare from the corner of your eye.

He smiles, a nasty grin filled with something sinister as he chuckles darkly. “Don’t want to be my good girl anymore?” It’s a loaded question you’re unsure of how to answer.

It hardly matters as he forces your hand down, until you jolt at the change in body part you were touching. He forces your fingers to close around his throbbing length, unable to touch or fully wrap around it as your head jerks instinctively to look at what he was making you do.

“A-Ava—,” you try to pull away, but to no avail. He only hums, the soap like lube as he uses your hand to jerk his cock, amused as you stare in shock. He won’t let you go, not when the sight of your smaller form holding his leaking rod is so arousing he comes a minute a later. Hips thrusting with the timing of the squeeze he forces your hand to hold, hot ropes of his seed shooting out onto your chest and belly as he cages you with his free arm from moving away. He allows his purple tapered tip to smear the remaining pearls of his seed on your skin, ignoring your whine of protest as he paints you.

“Fuck, that’s it, be good for me pretty girl,” he growls lightly, chest rattling as he releases his pent up frustration on your confused form.

Really, you couldn’t be more adorable covered in his release looking dazed.

His golden eyes heavy lidded as he crouches down to catch your lips in a heated kiss.

You swallow nervously, staring at Ava as he stares at you from across his bed chambers.

You’d fallen asleep after… after bathing, if you could even call it that, and awoken later to find yourself alone again. Ava missing and your body covered by fine silk sheets while you slept.

You’d scrambled about the room looking for escape, finding nothing but a single exit locked, which Ava now stood before.

He wore a pair of silken sleep pants, tailored to his enormous figure as well as a matching robe left loose and revealing a majority of his chest and abdomen. His wings weren’t physical but a magic which naturally formed behind him, you’d learned.

The gold markings on his body were duller than earlier, his eyes less vibrant and more cool as he looks at you.

He seems more… familiar. Less of the Ava covered in blood and flesh of humans and more of the one you’ve befriended.

He’s silent, unmoving as he stands still in the doorway.

You don’t want to make the first move, unsure in this new environment, but you similarly disliked all of this distance and miscommunication between you both.

You moved cautiously, much like the skittish animal he likens you to in his mind, off the bed. You’d wrapped yourself in one of his sheets, his scent clinging to you the only thing stopping him from tearing it off you in annoyance. He stays put, muscles taunt and jaw clenched as you approach him like he might harm you.

He debated it.

Briefly showing you why you should be obedient and just listen, but dismissing it in favor of you liking him at least to some degree.

When you reach him, he merely stares down at you, face impassive unlike your nervous and awkward expression.

“Ava…?” He finally shifts, leaning down to close the distance a little but still not touching you. It’s you who initiates, because he’s certain he’s trained you well enough in your past touch starved state that you can’t resist the comfort and warmth he provides. You wrap your arms around his waist, pressing your figure to his while looking up with those honest eyes he adores.

He finally relaxes, your touch so addicting he was unable to resist wrapping you further into his embrace while lifting you up. Your legs wrap around him instinctively, warm bare cunt now pressed against his abdomen while your arms come around his neck. The sheet loosening and falling down to pool at his feet. He finally smiles at your flustered state, not letting you climb down to grab it, instead moving you both towards his—your—bed and easily laying you down to drape over you.

“You’re calmer than I imagined you’d be…” he murmurs against the skin of your neck, kissing up to your jaw. “Should I prepare for your wrath later little flower?” He muses, lifting up to look at your expression.

“Was that blood… from a human?” You look guarded but he isn’t surprised.

“Yes.”

“Did you kill them?” He affirms again.

“Was it because of… me?” Those sweet eyes looked so haunted as you asked, as if you knew what he was going to say.

“No. It wasn’t because of you.”

You check his face, as if he were a human and would lie to you as they do.

“Then why did you do it?” You breathed, sagging in relief beneath him. His lips twitch, molten eyes shining with adoration as he looks upon you.

“They greatly offended me.” He answers vaguely, but it was the truth. They offended him by breathing and walking the earth. It was a direct insult to him. They only met misfortune because they caught his attention.

You seemed happy to accept whatever rid you of any guilt, looking up at him less fearfully now that he was clean and not being mean to you. Though, you both shared very different definitions of being “mean”.

“Am I staying the night?” You asked him curiously. You had thought he’d brought you here as he didn’t know where your home in the village was when you’d fallen asleep.

He shook his head, lips curling higher.

“You’re staying forever.” He declares, sweet scent filling your senses as he comes close enough to kiss you.

Then he does.

You thought his teasing was funny, lips tilting up finally as the awkwardness dissipates and familiarity rises.

This is your Ava, warm sweet Ava that smells so good it makes you crave sweets you cannot afford.

He presses you further into the unfathomably soft bed, his lips demanding as you open for him.

“Ava,” you break the kiss, breathing heavier as he growls and nips at your bottom lip, a shiver wracking you as he leans back enough to meet your gaze. “What we’re doing… it’s what lovers and spouses do isn’t it? At least, this is what human lovers do…” your voice becomes smaller as he stares down as you with an expression you couldn’t name.

“And?” He encourages.

You look away for a moment, gathering your thoughts before remembering out of all the cruelty in the world, Ava was the outlier.

“Is that what we’re doing? Like lovers?” You felt too embarrassed to directly state it, to say it aloud, and equally scared this isn’t anything different than exchanging a handshake with another faery to him. It was different to you.

“Do you want it to be?” He leans down, placing a feather soft kiss against your temple so you couldn’t see his eyes glowing bright. “Do you want us to be like lovers little flower?” His voice is deeper than usual, strained almost as he holds himself perfectly still above you.

You take the time to think, much to his displeasure, but when you answer it was everything for him.

“I do.”

He places a chaste kiss to your lips, his own tilting higher and higher until he’s grinning gleefully.

“Then that’s what we’ll be.” He confirms, and you miss it.

You miss every little trap he’d laid, each tiny piece of the puzzle forming around you like a cage. You miss everything and it’s too late to go back now. Ava muses wickedly, as he kisses you more sensually, lets his claws drag so delicately down your soft skin, he thinks how stupid you are.

“I’ll be all yours if you ask for it Y/N,” he speaks directly into your pointed ear, hot breath making the tips curl as you whine. The way he says your name is different than usual, more serious and seductive. You realize this seems wrong somehow, the way he’s making you melt so easily like this, how your panic and fear evaporated so quickly. You aren’t given time to think further, when he shifts and sits up. He sneers when you attempt to cover yourself again, gripping your wrist and lightly pulling you up too. On your knees, you face his chest, eyes looking up to see his heated expression.

Ava cups your jaw with one hand, and pokes at your lip with the other.

He doesn’t ask before his thumb invades your mouth, and you fight not to bite down or jerk away with his pointed claw inside.

He’s exploring, squeezing your cheeks until you open wide so he can playfully run over your sharpened canines. Curiously playing with your tongue until he leans down licks it with his own. It felt strange and erotic, your body vibrating with nerves and budding arousal as he explores you.

“Ava…” you wanted to touch him too, but he didn’t seem to be listening as he lets his hands trail down to cup your breasts, thumbs rolling over your nipples as your back arches into them.

So you let your own hands wander, bolder than usual as you feel his solid form beneath you. His skin is much softer than it appears, strange markings and golden symbols flat. He had no softer points aside from that, muscles like stone and occasionally uncomfortable to lounge against due to it.

He squeezes your waist, smiling mischievous as you yelp and glare at him. He does it again, finally chuckling as he lets his hands slip to your ass.

This time his squeeze makes you gasp, as he parts your ass cheeks and allows your heated core to be exposed to the air. His claws so careful not to tear your skin open as he drags you taunt against him, rutting his hardened cock against your soft belly.

He moans aloud as he sees the tip poke out between you, your breasts above a delicious sight as he does it again and again.

“You drive me wild pretty faery,” he smiles, licking your cheek as he easily lifts you up to toss you to the center of the bed. You sink in, huffing but giggling as he crawls over you, looking like a dark angel as he covers you completely to capture your lips in a much more filthy kiss.

“I want to devour you,” he purrs, licking and kissing down your neck and chest, spreading your legs. “Make you mine completely,” you moan, feeling delirious as he finally licks your sloppy pussy.

You moan when you feel his fingers prod your entrance, sharp claws gone and retracted as he pushes one inside you while he laps at your clit. It feels different and firmer than his tongue, able to rub and stretch you better as he begins sucking on your puffy nub and purring deep in his chest. “Your little nub is hard~ are you feeling good?” He teases, wiggling the tip of his tongue over your engorged clit.

Then he’s pressing a second finger in, a mild burn heating your core as you gasp and try to shift away to no avail. “So sensitive,” he murmurs, spearing them into you, your soft gummy walls forcefully spread around the two digits as he noisily slurps. He’s being messy and a bit rough, but your moans spur him on as he groans into your pussy when you begin clawing at his hair and whining.

“Ava! S’too much! Can’t—!” You squeak and almost bite your tongue when you cum, pussy sucking his fingers deep and massaging them as you soak his hand and face.

He doesn’t stop, eyes glowing bright molten gold as he watches you squirm and babble senselessly while he stuffs a third finger into your poor overstimulated cunt. Your little hole stretched wide around him, and he’s content to watch as your greedy lower mouth takes it as he pumps them into you.

You’re less amused though, body thrumming as the pleasure becomes overwhelming and you panic.

“Stop, I’m gonna make a mess, Ava stop—!” You cry out, eyes watering before tears fall as you struggle to stop the powerful pressure building in your core, hurting you with the intensity as he pushes you further and further. “Your insides are steadily swallowing and sucking my fingers in, aren’t you a little lewd?” He asks, unaffected by your dull nails digging into his forearm, eyes trained on your drooling hole below.

He’s got an iron grip on your hip with his other hand, nails digging into your flesh every time you try to squirm away. “You’re so lovely like this petal.”

He’s fascinated when you break again, clear fluid squirting up and out from your squelching pussy as he continues to shove his fingers in.

You cum so hard it nearly causes you to lose consciousness, eyes rolling back as you twitch and moan as the dam inside you bursts open.

You whine as he pulls free, hand dripping in gooey arousal as he brings it to his lips and slurps it up without any decorum, appearing almost starved as he gazes down at you with the eyes of a predator. “Messy girl~ I’ll teach you though,” his lips pull back to reveal his sharp teeth, “When you feel so good you think you’ll break, you’re supposed to say I’m coming, do you understand?” He asks darkly.

“No more…” your weak plea only makes him smirk, kissing you softly as he slides forward and uses both hands to cover your hips and lift your lower half up.

Your eyes feel heavy as you force them open, slow to realize that his enormous cock is now laid over your pussy, pulsing and dragging back and forth through your slick folds. The thick veiny appendage causes your trepidation to rise, realization dawning that he intends to fit that inside of you.

“It won’t fit—,” you weren’t being cute or coy, because while you may not be human, your form was still the same size as one. He was much, much bigger, and his cock certainly fit his proportions. You try to catch his attention, unable to close your legs with his body between them. “Ava,” He’s truly not hearing you at all, too enthralled and excited as he lubes his massive length up with your juices. He’s shaking a bit too, heart beating rapidly in his chest as he coos down at you mindlessly, golden orbs almost unseeing at this point as he lines up with your entrance.

“So good for me petal~ you’re all mine aren’t you?” He breathes, and you feel the weight and pressure begin as his tip breaches.

“Wait, stop Ava—!” You whine as the sting becomes a burn and then you’re being filled to the point of excess as you struggle to breathe anymore.

“Shh—♡,” he hushes you, pained as well due to the pressure around him, strangling him as he grimaces and drags back out a little before surging forward. “You’re mine now petal,” he groans.

You’re unable to form words as he works his cock into you like a piece which doesn’t quite fit, bullying and stretching you open to forcefully fit himself.

He leans more weight down onto you as you struggle and writhe, noisy cries falling on deaf ears as he feels himself slipping deeper as your body finally gives up on keeping him out. His tip touches your cervix, before shoving even further and smashing it up as your stomach aches in protest.

You lay limp as he finally bottoms out, twitching with your mouth open and drool pooling down your chin as you feel nothing but the feeling of him inside you. He huffs a laugh, the way you look ruined before he’s even gotten started.

You look like a doll in his grasp, his cock extending your stomach a little as it twitches inside you. Your thighs ache as they’re naturally forced up, unable to spread fully enough for him to settle so he’d merely folded you and pressed you down to prevent escape.

“You did it pretty girl, look at you~” he grins, one hand leaving your hip to press on your belly, making your eyes widen and roll back as you whine. “You took every inch of me in this cute cunt didn’t you?” This male over you isn’t familiar, even as his sugary scent seems to increase and smother you, he seems foreign in his words and actions.

The inconsistencies are difficult to track as he drags himself out of you, the fullness replaced by feeling each ridge and bump of veins decorating his cock as he slides out.

Then he’s pushing in again, stealing your breath and ability to think as he starts to fuck you.

“Don’t worry petal, I won’t hurt you,” you can’t quite understand as he pushes his thick rod inside you, brain shutting off as you go pliant in his hold. “I’ll go nice and slow so you never forget,” he moans as you tighten and jerk, “who owns you.” He’s holding back with all his might as you spasm and grip him in inside of you, walls sucking him back in as he moves to exit.

You make him forget.

As you slick his cock up with your juices, he begins to slip in easier, folding you down further into a mating press as he looks down at your teary face. You make him forget all the time he’s spent alone. Your moans increase as he picks up the pace, pounding nice and deep inside of you and ridding you of any thought beside him. He slips a hand down between you both, claws retracted completely as he softly presses on your swollen clit and throws you reeling into another orgasm around him. “Say it petal,” he grits out, the feeling of you tightening drawing his own end. He’s hardly able to move inside you, short thrusts all he can manage as he drags you over the edge.

“I’m coming—!” Your head tips back, neck bared to his eyes as you cum for him obediently.

He fills you up right after, heavy engorged balls drawing up as he pumps his first load of the day into you. His thrusts not stopping as he rocks forward, expression relaxing as his magic swirls inside of you, his mating mark slowly sinking into your soul as he works to keep his seed deep within your womb. You’re too fucked out to notice, the pleasure and pressure overwhelming your senses as you try to rest now.

Except his cock doesn’t soften.

He thrusts hard once he’s sure his bond has settled, feeling you so much deeper in his soul as he drags his cock out almost all the way. “It’s like your little hole misses me already,” he smiles, watching as you flutter around his tip as if to tell him you don’t want him to leave. “Tell me petal,” he slides back inside, jolting you awake as you stare incredulously down at where you both connect. The slick sounds of him slipping into your sticky wet entrance haunting as you whine, hands digging into fine silk as you try to push away.

He only presses you down harder, cock burrowing deep as if to anchor you. His eyes are wild and swirling, the color so bright it’s almost blinding in the dim room. “How does it feel to lose?”

You blank. His question not making any sense as the room spins and you’re overcome again with pleasure so intense it makes your toes and feet curl in the air where they rest.

“How does it feel to be utterly mine for the rest of eternity?” You gasp, tearing at the sheets as he picks up the pace, balls slapping against your ass as he begins to truly fuck you now. Enormous cock working you into a frenzy as you yelp when two fingers pinch painfully around a nipple. “You’re not going back pretty girl,” he laughs, face wicked and beautiful as you look up through blurry eyes spilling tears. “You’ll not return to that filthy human village,” he releases your sore nipple in favor of loosely gripping your throat, feeling your pulse beneath his hand. “You are not in the land of Fae sweet flower,” he lets his lips ghost over yours, his tip bullying your cervix as you writhe and move to claw at his shoulders. “You are in my kingdom, ours, where the corrupted Fae separate themselves,” you’re lost, eyes crossing almost dumbly as you come again, choking as you cry out his name.

You can’t move even an inch, unable to even squirm as you’re forced to take each punishing inch of his cock and he ruts into you.

“Your pussy keeps tightening up when I tell you all the ways you’re mine. Do you like this?” He delights in your pathetic attempt to push at his chest, clearly finished despite his balls still being heavy with his seed he intends to spill into you.

“A-Av-Ava!” You struggle to form even his name, let alone any sentences as he keeps up his fast and brutal pace. Though, from his perspective he was still holding back as he moans and spills himself inside you again.

“Yes flower?” He coos, pushing your hair out of your sweaty face as he pulls out just enough to grip your thigh and turn you on your side, sliding back to the hilt again. He hugs your leg to his chest, working his cock at a new angle in your abused pussy still spilling cum from earlier. “I’m listening,�� he chuckles, knowing you can’t speak, aware his cock was keeping you like this.

Words die down as he uses his hand not holding your leg up to grip your hip, holding you still while pushing his hips forward, railing himself inside your exhausted body. Your head rests against the bed, mouth open as your saliva soaks into the sheets, eyes staring at nothing as you feel another impending orgasm approaching.

Ava doesn’t mind, adoring the cute cock drunk expression as he uses you like a toy, filling you up over and over while you slowly lose your mind. “I’m sorry—Ava please, I’m sorry,” your slurred speech and delirious voice make him laugh. Genuinely amused by your rambling, “Why are you sorry petal? I’m not mad,” he catches your lips, tongue invading and swallowing your cries. He finds you so cute.

His cute, stupid little changeling, so trusting and unaware of his unsavory intentions.

You lose consciousness and count when he comes with his hips pressed deeply into your ass, pressing you belly first into his hand as he keeps you angled up to meet his thrusts. Your sensitive chest rubbing against the silk below, body limp as your world goes black and you convulse around him.

This time he lets you fall flat into the soaked bedding, taking his still hard cock out so he can pry apart your pussy lips and watch his release ooze out of your gaping hole.

His golden eyes flick up to your sleeping form, lips pulling as he coos, “Cute~♡” before he’s stuffing you full again, merciless as he leans on one arm to keep from crushing you as he continues to drill into you.

Even when you regain consciousness, trying to crawl away from his torturous pleasure, he only grips your arm and twists it gently behind you to hold. “You’re soaked and so hot inside, do you know how crazy you’re making me?” He groans, almost sounding like he’s in pain as you squeeze and come again. “I’m not letting you go, stop trying to run. You’ve already lost sweet girl.” As he lifts his hips, tip still encased by your wet hot heat, he eyes the slick mess which coats you both and connects you to him. “Go ahead and go crazy too, be good and listen.” He laughs, slamming back in and making your back arch as you nearly scream, feeling him so deep it makes you wonder if he’s going to break you. You really will go crazy, it’s a fleeting thought stolen by his cock once again, but you truly worry as he drowns you with euphoria and madness.

He’s hunched and leaning over your back, letting his tongue and teeth tease your ear so sweetly while he pounds you stupid, whispering to you things you won’t remember.

“You wanted my name so badly, didn’t you my lovely mate?” He knows you don’t understand, but it doesn’t stop him from speaking on, husky voice lulling you as you cry and lose yourself to pleasure. “I’ll tell you since you’re being so good, taking my seed so well~” he lets a little more weight settle on top of you, his cock nestling into your deepest parts with it.

“I am Avarice.”

Post dividers by @cafekitsune

[nereidprinc3ss]

mojave ghost

in which spencer reid spends the night with fem!reader—a total stranger—because she just feels so familiar. based on the song "my life in art" by Mojave 3.

18+ (implied intimacy) warnings/tags: based on a song about a stripper who runs away from her abusive boyfriend. tws for mentions of physical abuse. r has bruises from pole dancing. a little ooc bc Spencer hooks up with someone he just met but that's the point and if u know him like I do u know its not completely impossible. mentions of typical cm violence/murder. one brief mention of spencer's addiction. spencer's childhood trauma and abandonment. it's kind of just a heavy one, lmk if i'm missing anything a/n: I doooo suggest you listen to the song first just to feel the vibe of the piece and also how it is literally about Spencer Reid. and also bc its gorjus. anyways its been a while and this is not my most standard content but pls lmk what u think and if u liked it <3

He shouldn’t have done it. 

But when he saw you, sitting in a metal folding chair next to some peeling veneered-desk, his breath caught. Something primal deep in his stomach tugged the way it does when he finds little external fragments of himself, calling out to him—usually nonhuman objects. He’s seen himself in books, still warm from the hands that held them but ultimately forgotten on a bench or in the airport, needles in alleys or in between tiles on his bathroom counter, in shards of glass, in a hundred open wounds and dead animals, abstractly gutted on the side of the street. 

When he does see himself in a person, it’s in alarming glimpses. The man in the sleeping bag on the corner who talks to people that aren’t there. The lost child crying on the subway platform, rooted to the spot and still gripping the straps of their little backpack with responsible fists. It’s never anything he wants to know about himself, but this identification, this taxonomy and recognition of sameness—it’s so strong it stops him in his tracks, every time. He never really relates to the people he’s supposed to. Not Hotch. Not Gideon. Not even Maeve, in the way he’d so naively hoped for. Three people, all incredibly intelligent, at times standoffish. Used to being on the outside. All still possessing things and redemptive qualities he doesn’t. And what Spencer has secretly believed about himself for what has recently become a very long time, is that he is defined by his lack. The shape of him is made of negative space. He feels like whatever is in your lungs when you’ve pushed all the air out. 

And then, you. 

Physically, you look nothing alike. And he stops and lurches and does a double take like he’s seen his doppelgänger or been startled by his own reflection in a passing window anyway. Maybe it’s the way you hold yourself—hunched, foot tapping, head hung but still scanning the room, ever vigilant as you pick at your nails. You want to be small. You want to fold in yourself so many times you become a black hole. Spencer knows this. 

Something calls out from deep inside him, from all around him, that is not quite in his voice, but feels like grasping and reaching. 

I know you, I know you. 

He doesn’t catch himself in time before he’s walking toward you like he’s been waiting for you. 

Of course your head snaps up at the same time as he stops, and your eyes are shiny but not teary—frozen over with a layer of thick, dark ice like you’d carried the cold inside with you. You look caught. He searches for some sort of recognition in your eyes, anything to betray the fact that you have met before, because he never forgets a face but he knows what familiarity feels like and he can’t remember meeting you. 

His throat forms around something but the wrong word comes out. Halting, like he’s trying to lasso it and pull it back in. 

“Hi.” 

You pull your scarf down—a deep Roman purple—to reveal a pretty mouth, lips chapped by the unforgiving freeze outside. 

“Hello,” you say, politely, considering his probably strange behavior. He gives you a proprietary scan. Utility coat over a thick grey sweater. Jeans, cuffed at the bottom but still nearly too long, probably belted, although he can’t tell from the posture and the sweater. Brown boots. Your bag is a frayed tapestry of neutrals and patches. Fingerless knit gloves. You’ve given yourself false density, let the clothes swallow you up. Shapeless. Nearly faceless, magnet eyes framed between the scarf and the hat. But you’ve got a name. Everyone has a name. There’s yet to be anything humanity has discovered and not bothered to name. 

He forgets to ask. You clear your throat. 

“Um, I spoke to someone on the phone—Aaron, I think? We’re supposed to talk.”

Spencer tries to pick his jaw up off the floor. 

“Yeah, um, I can—I’ll… go get him.”

He turns away and breathes for the first time since he saw you, but he feels you behind him. He’s aware of exactly where you are in relation to the back of his head, he can feel you, like a hot spot, all the way to Hotch’s door. He lets himself in, slipping between as small a gap as he can manage and shutting the door gently behind him. Hotch looks up, not noticeably displeased at having been interrupted in his endless paperwork. 

What Spencer learns from his boss is this: you live in DC. You heard about a murder in Kansas—a girl, her hair still a fine, pale cornsilk. Barely not a child. You heard the details, and you called the cops, because you swear to god you know who did it, and they told you there was nothing they could do and gave you the number of someone who might be able to help, and so you followed a bureaucratic trail of phone numbers designed to discourage until you got to the BAU. Hotch says he’s going to interview you, but it’s probably nothing. 

“Actually, I’d like to do it if that’s okay.”

Hotch frowns deeper than usual.

“Why?”

Spencer swallows. Hesitates. 

“I finished my incident report early.”

Though he clearly has his reservations about Spencer’s sudden interest, Hotch is knee-deep in paperwork. So that’s how Spencer ends up in the round table room with you. 

You look too young, too raw to have been married, but you’re rubbing at your ring finger with the adjacent thumb like something is bothering you there. An absence that has become a presence. Negative space. You see things that aren’t there. Spencer knows that, too. Maybe you’re the kind of person who could look at him and see something.

That is his most intimate fantasy. He imagines it with you and feels the same kind of illicit shame and bloodied, starving hunger other people feel when they imagine sex or drugs or ravaging power; the way anyone imagines anything they want and can’t have.  

But he can’t put that kind of pressure on you. He can’t hold expectations like that. You’re a stranger. 

“Do you always do that?”

He points to your fiddling and gets that sour feeling in his throat he always does when he says something and wishes he hadn’t said it. That probably doesn’t show on his face. Most things don’t show on his face. Or maybe they do and nobody has bothered to tell him. 

You flex your pretty hand and then make a fist like you’ve been burned, probably to stop the compulsion. When you give a self-deprecating laugh, Spencer feels incredibly guilty for having pointed it out. But he doesn’t know how to talk to you. And at the same time, he almost expects it’ll be like talking to himself. Only nobody will give him odd looks. 

“Uh… old habit. I used to spin my wedding ring around when I was nervous.”

Used to. You’re especially too young to have been divorced. 

“You’re nervous?”

Your eyes flash as you look up to him. With what, he doesn’t know. Lightning, maybe. Electrical impulses that are a little less well insulated in you than in everyone else. 

But maybe he’s projecting. 

“Yeah. I feel crazy. But I was with a guy for a while who—and he was from Kansas—who would always, like, talk about… about hurting people. And I thought it was a joke at first, but… he laughed, at other people’s pain. He liked to hurt people. And animals. His dad had a farm, so I thought it was maybe he was just cavalier about life and death, but it was more than that. And he lived… he lived in that town. Where that girl died. He probably knew her. I… I probably knew her.”

Spencer’s heart sinks and he clears his throat like the force could bring it back up the right level again. 

You’re not his soulmate. You’re just paranoid. Looking for answers and resolution, like everybody else. 

The piece of himself he saw in you was just free radical damage. Instability. 

“Did he ever kill anyone before?”

“Wh—not that I know of. But I don’t really think he would’ve told me.”

But you would’ve known. You’re here because you’re lost. 

“Did he ever seriously injure anyone?”

You swallow and sit up a little straighter. Heat lightning in your eyes, again. It makes him feel something. He sits up too, despite your indignance, because it’s entrancing. 

“Yes.”

“How so?”

“He… he…” you melt as quickly as you inflated and go back to spinning a ring that’s not there. It’s like watching technicolor go to black and white. “He’d beat people up. He cut them with broken beer bottles and… yeah. A lot of other shit. He was just… he was crazy. He wasn’t… okay.”

The way your gaze flickers back and forth like you’re reading pages of a book or perhaps in REM as you recount in vague detail what your ex had done clues Spencer into the fact that you’re extremely traumatized. The way you make sure to emphasize that your clearly abusive ex wasn’t okay clues him into the fact that you care too much. That you’re too quick to excuse people’s bad behavior, or dismiss it, because you know how it feels to be dismissed entirely and you don’t want to make anyone else feel the way you’ve felt. 

Or maybe he’s still projecting. Maybe he’s idealized you in these few short minutes since you met and he’s too far gone. Maybe he should’ve let Hotch do this interview after all. In fact, he absolutely should’ve. 

But the worst thing by far he did was ask to walk you to your car after all was said and done. 

The interview went on for over two hours, and he’d learned things about you he suspects you’ve never told anyone before, and thus has learned about himself, and the building is mostly empty when you finally leave. The work day is over. So he selfishly asks you to wait while he gathers his things—buttons his coat, wraps his scarf, packs his bag—and then he soaks in the silence on the elevator because it’s that terrible, beautiful space between where you first cross the line and when you do something unforgivable. Asking to walk you to your car was crossing the line. 

Sleeping with you was unforgivable. 

And he didn’t care. Maybe he knew he was going to do this from the moment he saw you. Spencer never does this. The knowing that it was going to happen is quite a distinct flavor of intuitive knowledge and it was always on the back of his tongue. 

You’re silver and purple, a streak, a blur, you move too fast to keep up with and even when you’re perfectly still the atoms around you scramble like they’re jonesing. You inspire movement. You are movement. But he gets to see you slow, and despite having known you only a few hours, he knows this is nothing short of a natural phenomenon. A once in a lifetime sort of shooting star. That’s where the silver comes in. 

The purple, though—it’s in strange places. Around your upper arm. Between your thighs. On your knees and shins and hips. The first time he noticed it he couldn’t ignore it, but he couldn’t very well ask what’s hurting you while he was touching you in a way that was decidedly not painful, if he wanted to keep it that way. And he did. He wanted to keep you looking at him through half-lidded eyes like he was something to see. 

Still, he can’t notice it and then fuck you without saying something—or maybe he could, and you desperately want him to and you ask for it and maybe most people would, but he won’t—so he brings it up. 

“I lead a very active life,” is your whispered excuse, shaped by a smile that is something like mischievous. And then you’re kissing his flushed neck and making your descent and so he can’t ask very many questions. 

It’s only in the precarious after that he can fit his questions in, which is dumb and he knows that, because you’re a dizzying contradiction of cagey and flighty and really the slightest thing will send you running. It’s funny how he knows that after a few hours and sex. Sex can tell you so much about a person. Spencer has compiled all the data from his experiences and decided sex is radically more effective a profiling tool than interview. 

You’re on his pillow, lying on your stomach, and his hand is in your hair. Falling in love is quite a distinctive taste as well. Or at least, the recognition that if you spend enough time around a person you will, beyond a shadow of a doubt, fall in love with them. It is almost the same thing. It aches because it’s there and the proper thing to do is pretend it’s not. 

And his hand is in your hair. And your eyes are closed, and you look like you might fall asleep, and he should be beyond grateful for all of these things. He is. 

But that pesky desire to ameliorate, to improve and make better, and fix and heal, is too strong. Probably it’s the only way he thinks anyone will love him, is if he makes himself useful. That’s no revelation to him. The thought is not shocking whatsoever. It’s just true. 

So he asks again. You blink your eyes a quarter of the way open. 

“Hazard of the job.”

“What job?”

You make a noncommittal noise of reluctance—a discontented puppy’s whine, half-asleep. 

“I’m a circus freak.”

He laughs and remembers to keep scratching your scalp. The way you smile, eyes closed, is infectious. 

“Yeah? What’s your act?”

“Guess,” you challenge through the remnants of a smile, oozing satisfaction and glowing like a star. 

When he pauses to regard you, to seriously consider, studying the curve of your cheek and the color of your lips, you open your eyes again. 

“Tightrope walker,” he finally says, earnestly, so soft it could tear down the middle like gauze. 

Your answer is a smile into the dark. “How’d you know?”

The corner of his mouth vies higher. 

“I sensed a kindred spirit.”

Silence floods the room again, slowly, thickly, like molasses. It’s pleasant. You’re still here, in his bed, and he’s still measuring time with the pendulum of his hand in your hair. 

“What do you really do?” 

He expects you to be asleep. 

“Dancer.” Your lips hardly move as you say it, inflectionless, immediate. If his hand falters, it’s only momentarily. That explains the bruising, and so is a relief, as far as he’s concerned. But perhaps his silence is misconstrued. “Do you want me to go?”

It certainly doesn’t seem like you want to go. Your eyes aren’t even open. 

He keeps his voice low and gentle like maybe you really are asleep. 

“Why would I want you to go?”

“Don’t… do that.”

“What?”

“Don’t act like you’re not judging me.”

“I’m not judging you. I’m from Vegas. Your job is not a novelty to me.”

This time when your eyes slide open, there is a new, curious light behind them. 

“Really?”

He nods, distracted by a freckle just beneath your eye. 

“When I was ten I ran into my bus driver wearing two quarters as a shirt. And we weren’t even on the strip. We were in a Texas Roadhouse parking lot.”

You snort with laughter and it’s melodic, like twinkling crystals, like running water. Even as you hide your face behind your hand, he’s transfixed. God, he’s never cared about being funny before. Now he wants to make you laugh over and over again. He wants to keep you softer than you’ve ever been. The laughter fades slowly and he grieves it—but your hand sliding away from your face like the sun coming up from behind a mountain eases the ache. 

You reach out as if in a trance and run your thumb gently beneath his eye. He holds his breath as you make contact, butterfly light. Nobody has ever touched him like this before. 

“You’re gorgeous,” you murmur. A thoughtless observation. A truth cast to the breeze. Knuckles carefully follow the dip of his cheekbone—a cartographer, learning her way by touch. Marking her territory. He’d let you do it. His eye stings, ready to spring forth a river just so you can have the pleasure of discovering it. “Breathe,” you laugh, softly, and he does. 

“Sorry.”

You don’t say a thing. You let your fingers trace borders into his skin and follow them with soft eyes and he wonders what he’s ever done to deserve this kind of magic. He wonders if he’ll ever feel as good as he does right now, when it’s all over. Nobody has ever paid this much attention to him—but you’re intent, focused, like he’s art. 

“Tell me about Vegas.”

It takes him a moment to reply. 

“Hm?”

He feels bewitched. Warm. Foggy. A thumb brushes over his lips, but it’s only a pass, thank god, because he can hardly stand how you’re touching him already, at the high point of his cheek, beneath his brow. Finally getting enough sometimes feels awfully close to too much. He’s already almost cried once. 

“I wanna hear about Vegas. I’ve always wanted to go. Is it hot?”

Spencer will say whatever you want him to say, but he has to focus a little—like he’s speaking through honey. 

“In the summer, during the day. In the winter at night it drops to below freezing.”

“Desert-y,” you hum.

“Very.”

“Tell me more.”

There’s a rousing hunger in your voice and it reminds Spencer to want you again. He finds your waist and tugs you closer. Who is he with you?

Is he better? 

“There are 175 casinos in the city, but only thirty on the strip. There are 15,000 miles of neon tubing on the strip alone. It’s the brightest place on earth. You can see it from space.”

“Not that.”

Petulant. He loves it. 

His lips find the softness of your shoulder. “Then what?”

The only clue that you can feel what he’s doing to you is the twitch of your fingers on his cheek. 

“Tell me something… tell me exactly how it feels to stand in the middle of the desert. With nobody else around. Tell me things and details I couldn’t know about unless I’ve been there.”

At the junction of your neck, he pauses. This beautiful girl, and her beautiful brain—you are so disarming. So perfect. 

You shiver into him as his fingers brush up the back of your neck, gently pushing away hair so he can learn you everywhere. So he can remember your landscape, just like he’s doing as he closes his eyes and falls into memory. 

A gas station, off the side of the road—seemingly in the middle of nowhere. Desert all around. His dad’s ’79 Ford Fiesta—the one he didn’t take with him when he left. The driver’s door is open. Spencer’s dad has been inside for minutes. Spencer is watching from the middle of the road, because he looked out from the backseat of the Fiesta, and saw that dark, unassuming spot, and thought—how would it feel to be the darkness? What would I see if I were nothing at all?

When he gets there, and he stands on the sun bleached pavement, veined with spiderwebs of tar, and he sees this all from a distance—he realizes he feels exactly the same as he always does. So he pivots his head to the left. The road goes on until it disappears into the smudgy horizon. To the right, it does the same. The earth swells, far away, so many miles, so coal black, so impossible. Hardly even real. But there is something out there, he thinks. There is something, even if nobody else has ever been there, and I want to stand in the middle of it and I will learn how it feels to be nothing. I will not observe—I will become apart of the landscape, with the Joshua trees that have been there for a thousand years, and the rocks that haven’t moved in millennia. 

So he begins to walk. 

The rocks crunch under his feet, and that is the only noise. 

He walks for minutes. He walks until he knows the gas station will be small. He walks until he can feel the emptiness on the back of his neck, until it feels like an embrace. 

“It’s silent,” he hears himself say to you, in some other universe, decades in the future. “At night, it’s completely silent. You can hear yourself breathe. If you throw a pebble ten feet away, you’ll hear it hit the ground.”

Little Spencer takes a deep breath of inky air. 

“It smells like… geosmin.”

“What?”

Perfect. Your voice is perfect. 

“Dirt. But it’s not the same as dirt anywhere else. It’s… drier, like it’s smelled the same way for a really long time.”

Spencer’s cheeks burn. He’s doing a terrible job explaining.

But he feels your breath on his cheek—eager. Your hand at his shoulder as you lean closer, enraptured. Reverent, almost. 

“What else?”

What else?

Dry brush snags on the hem of the corduroys his mother had picked out for him. They’re a little too short. She’s going to try to take him shopping again tomorrow. It’ll work this time—they’ll get to the store. Mom’s just been having some trouble leaving the house lately. 

Rustling leaves skim the tips of his fingers as he reaches out for them, and keeps walking. When was the last time someone touched that shrub?

“There’s vegetation. Creosote, mostly, if you’re in the scrubland. Larrea tridentada. It’s dry—kind of twiggy, with green leaves and yellow flowers in the spring. The smell is bad, like asphalt, but you only notice if you get close.”

He hears his dad calling his name. It fades in and out. 

It’s dizzying, hearing his father’s voice. His father saying his name. 

It’s been a long time. 

“It’s so flat that things don’t echo. But because of the extreme variations in temperature the air pressure sometimes forces the sound waves to the ground and makes it impossible for them to propagate. They’re called the Santa Ana winds. Someone could be standing right next to you and if the wind blows at just the right angle, you won’t be able to hear them. But when it’s still, sound carries far.”

His father is angry. Or is he worried? 

Spencer can make out his dad, pacing frantically back and forth across the gas station pad, white button-up a glowing beacon even from this far away beneath the lone yellow street light. He looks so small. So very far away. Ant-like. 

Santa Ana comes slow—warmer than the night air around him, to ruffle his hair and rustle the dry leaves and blow soft clouds of fragrant sienna dirt around at his knees. It blows through him. For a moment, it wakes the desert up. 

Then it’s passed. It moves further down the desert and leaves Spencer behind. Things settle into silence again. He’s alone again. 

Spencer’s stomach flips as he realizes his father can’t see him this far away, this deep into the dark nothing. 

As he finally feels the enormity of the distance on all sides. 

Suddenly the void behind him is massive. Suddenly it is everything, and it is sucking him deeper. Nobody can see him. He could just disappear into 25,000 square miles of desert. He’s already, what—a thousand feet gone? More? The weight of all the infinite space behind him presses, and he thought it’d feel interesting but it feels like dying and there has never been so much regret or dread curdling in his stomach before. His face crumples, eyes stinging in the dry air, and he takes one step forward, and then another, and then he runs like he’s running for his life. But he doesn’t feel chased—no, that’s the worst part. He is running from an infinite, vacuous, nothing. Dad! He screams, but even this young he knows how sound waves work in the desert and he can tell his dad can’t hear him and he’s running and screaming until his lungs burn, and the scrub lashes at his ankles, and it has been the same for a thousand years and it will stay the same for a thousand more with or without him. Dad, I’m right here! He sobs, the words ripping up his throat with desperation as they go. 

Finally, finally, he’s heard, and he’s close enough to see his dad seeing him, he stops pacing and stares dumbfounded at the little boy appearing from the desert, sneakers slapping cracked asphalt. He gets closer and closer until he can see the lines on his father’s face and the color of his eyes and he sobs as he crashes into him. His dad’s hands are vice-tight around his arms, as Spencer cries and can’t breathe and thrashes like a fish out of water. 

What? Is all his father can manage, tight and baffled and afraid and the first word of a question he doesn’t even know how to ask. He says it again and again, like a skipping record; what—what? What?

On the drive home, Spencer sits in the backseat, a bottle of Bug Juice in his lap. His ankles sting, whipped and bloodied and punished for wearing too-short pants. 

The silence is cloistering and at the same time, completely par for the course. He does not expect his father to speak to him, but he sort of thinks maybe another father would. 

Outside, the black spine of distant mountains rolls on forever and stays impossibly far away. He peers out into the nothing, past what the moonlight can illuminate—and now, he doesn’t have to wonder. He knows how it feels. Imagines another little boy made of shadows, as far away from the road as he’d been, and feels sick from all that fruit juice. He won’t ask his dad to pull over—all he wants is to get rid of that feeling on the back of his neck, like he’s dissolving into space. Like he’s the only thing for miles and miles. 

But the problem is—the feeling doesn’t go away. 

Not in the driveway. Not in the bath. Not in bed, later that night. 

Spencer did a bad thing and he wishes he could go back to normal. He wishes he didn’t get that desert feeling when he was surrounded by other people. But it comes back, again and again. At school. When he tentatively asks for new pants and his mom throws a vase at the wall and then sobs on the floor for forty minutes. When a few weeks later, his dad leaves, and doesn’t take the Ford with him—so it sits under the carport, greets him on his way to school every morning, and over the course of years the windshield turns opaque with dust. 

He hasn’t stopped feeling that way since. 

“You okay?”

A long, soft breath draws him back into his body. Into his bed. 

Not creosote. Not geosmin. Not the Santa Ana winds, coming from the deepest parts of the desert and carrying their desolation to him. Shampoo. Warmth. A girl who smells sort of like him, now—a girl whose perfume is all over his neck and chest and pillow. 

You’re there. You, a stranger. You, a girl he’s going to fall in love with. You—the only person he ever brought into the desert with him. The only person who ever brought him back. 

Point Nemo is not in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Asphodel is not in the underworld. It’s a little less than half a mile out across from an old gas station on the I-15 in the middle of the Mojave desert. 

Spencer nods because he can’t bring himself to speak just yet. 

You smile and take the time to find his hand in the dark. 

“Felt like I was out there with you. Thanks.”

And he squeezes your hand—because for the first time, it feels like someone is going to come looking for him. 

lyrics from my life in art <3

[astro-rainbow777]

♈︎ 𝔄𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔢𝔰 ♈︎

✶ Aries in 1st: Being ruled by the planet Mars, these natives give a bold and invigorating first impression. What you see is what you get with Aries in the first- they have a raw and honest personality- which can be off putting for some people because it can be taken as rude depending on the person/situation- but I have to say you must admire them for being so tenacious and authentic in nature. I can hands down say the best quality about Aries in the first is what you see is what you get! They have a strong ego here, are not ashamed of their behaviors, body or personality - regardless of what others say to or about them. ✶ Aries in 2nd: Bold spenders, can be quick to have, give away and lose money. Fleeting self worth and values- can feel and act confident one hour and then shy and shameful the next. Values honesty, integrity and sense of self- this may be because they don’t have the greatest sense of self. Believes that kids and the younger generations have the most value in the world. Having children of their own could be of the greatest importance- OR (and this is a big or) they could never want kids and value connecting to their inner child and independence greatly. It’s one or the other. Can feel at war with their finances and self worth.

✶ Aries in 3rd: Athletic and popular in middle school/high school. Known for their leadership skills and qualities amongst their peers, classmates, cousins and siblings. Can be the youngest of their siblings or babied by others. Intellectually motivated, driven and competitive. Impulsive and passionate in their speech. May say things for shock value or improv their actual knowledge. Finds stimulation in an intellectual debate and arguing. It’s hard to win an argument with these people because they speak so quickly- their arguing style is just backing people into a corner mentally, they don’t give up easily. However, they can regret things that they say when they are angry or upset.

✶ Aries in 4th: Huge indicator of raising yourself as a kid. Family required you to be very active, you could be the most successful in your family as an adult because of this. Family is a point of weakness for you, mainly because they possess a lot of “childish” qualities. You may feel like your parents/guardians were big babies and never grew up. You could put a lot of energy towards your family, but could have a shorter fuse with them over all people. You may be the youngest out of your entire family. Your family could be competitive with you our vise versa. Your family could be the start of your “Villan Arc” 💀- your family may have childish values, argue a lot or they may be a “board game family”. TW - Worst case scenario- violence in the home.

✶ Aries in 5th: Play fights when flirting, aggressive flirters, acts like they hate their crush. I have this placement lmaooo and I LOVE to play fight with my man- like btch?! You wanna go!?!?!? It’s so much fun to me and usually leads to s*xies ayyye. But that’s definitely a me thing, I love to talk smack to my significant other- that’s how it’s always been. Being competitive, NO BORING DATES EVER! Known to have secs on the first date. Passionate- goooood lovers. Either wants to have kids right away or doesn’t want kids at all- this I huge independence thing that keeps them from not wanting to have kids. You can’t be the baby, if you have a baby! Commitment issues.

✶ Aries in 6th: Enjoys active routines and work place. Known to work in establishments with competitive pay and many enemies in work place. Can be scene as bossy by their coworkers. Needs to be weary of being hypocritical of their coworkers. Temper at work. Benefits from a workout routine. Needs to take out stress and anger from work & daily responsibilities. Can be very active or have hyper pets, may need a big back yard to run their dogs or other animals in. Competitive in health and motivated to be the best version’s of themselves. Picky with their diet and what they decide to put in their bodies. Can have an all or nothing attitude- because theirs definitely a reason why they are so picky. Usually this stems from poor self care habits and bad physical health. ✶ Aries in 7th: Passionate and assertive lovers, the fire they feel for their committed partners are unmatched. They may loose interest beyond physical lust- especially if they don’t take they time to figure out whether or not they ACTUALLY like someone. These individuals could truly find good in anyone so it’s important that they don’t project their desire for commitment onto someone else. They can date or be friends with some bold and persistent personalities- even bossy. It’s important that these natives find someone who will give them some wiggle room to find themselves. These people find out who they are through trial and error in their relationships - it’s typical for these natives to have “failed relationships” that lead them to find out what they definitely don’t like- which leads them to their ultimate truth.

✶ Aries in 8th: This gives the native a hyper-vigilant quality to the native with Aries in 8th. In the past the native may have been made to feel like they didn’t belong, maybe they were bullied, or judged for something they couldn’t control. This may lead them to be on edge, secretive and even defensive about who they are authentically. They are very protective about who they actually are because they have been hurt before- many of these people are Virgo Risings, so it’s interesting to see that this may be one of the reasons why they are so hard on themselves and receive a judgmental sort of reputation. ✶ Aries in 9th: I love this placement so much honestly, because a lot of these natives have the philosophy that they can go after anything that they want. They have a particularly strong sense of self and actually may have a hard time understanding why other people don’t go after what they want or believe in themselves and their dreams. This is a super hard working placement IMO - it gives very much that “I want it, I got it!” vibe! It’s very possible at a time in their life that no one believed in these individuals so they just had to prove themselves to the world, and that’s so beautiful.

✶ Aries in 10th: Go getters in their career- they do best when they are their own boss- they definitely don’t do well with being told what to do because of their sensitive nature. However, they have a lot of creativity and art to give to the world. They need a career that is authentic to who they- a simple 9-5 WILL NOT cut it for these people. So if you’re an Aries 10th and you’re still trying to make your boring, loveless day job work- this is why. It is not in your genetic code to be running someone else’s business 😂 you are the business starter- not finisher! Quit diminishing your own light because I know y’all are hard on yourselves regardless. Pick your hard and go after it!

✶ Aries in 11th: Leaders of the pack, these natives love bringing their friends together and being absolutely crazy with their friends. They are naturally socialites and feel their best when they are interacting in their community and collaborating with like minds. These people live for their down time, special niche hobbies and interests. They work hard to play hard. They may also have some pretty strong humanitarian values they stick by, these natives have no problem with telling people their opinion on any given situation and they really don’t care what you have to say about it 😆

✶ Aries in 12th: With Aries in the house of isolation, hidden endings, mental health, dreams and subconscious awareness- this can make a native who suppresses their anger deeply and keeps a lot of their authentic reactions to themselves. They may feel more comfortable expressing this rage internally or when they know nobody else is around. They may be completely out of touch with their anger and impulses. They could have to isolate before taking action towards their authentic desires or dreams. Dreams can be violent and they may have intense nightmares. These natives can work out their best alone- although they usually like to workout with someone, this keeps them from pushing themselves for fear of being ugly or vulnerable. They don’t like to show their struggle to others, complain or their authentic side.

Happy Aries Season Everyone! I hope you are all safe and navigating eclipse season /mercury retrograde with ease. I am making a series out of the signs in the houses. I hope y’all are enjoying my content! Love you and thank you so much for reading my content and giving me feedback. This is such a sacred study to me. It is my life.

~Kya

[flopsxii]

random tokyo revengers head canons (most are x reader, a few aren’t.)

feat. sanzu haruchiyo, sano ‘mikey’ manjiro, mitsuya takashi, matsuno chifuyu, inui seishu, haitani rindou, baji keisuke, haitani ran, kokonoi hajime, kazutora hanemiya, sano shinichiro

tw. violence, drug usage.

my note: just some stuff that came to mind :P

𐙚 bonten!sanzu is definitely the type to make his victims play russian roulette, changing the odds each time to increase his excitement. he would also probably make his partner play if they were unfaithful.

𐙚 despite how aggressive everyone views mikey he is definitely a really affectionate lover. he would cling to you all night, light snores escaping his lips and becoming impossibly closer; tangling his legs with yours. however, sharing his food is a step too far for mikey, he would definitely find a seperate portion for you though!

𐙚 rather than confessing in a traditional sense, mitsuya would definitely confess to you through a letter and a heartfelt gift. most likely something he’s made himself, with you specifically in mind. with his heart on his sleeve and a shy smile on his lips, mitsuya would hand you a small bag, containing a letter with your name written messily on the front and also a neatly wrapped gift he hoped you’d love.

𐙚 one of chifuyu’s favourite ‘dates’ with you are days you spend by his side in his store. even if you just sat there looking impossibly beautiful and he rushed around the store with so many tasks ( arguable looking like he’s losing his mind), he’d feel somewhat calmer knowing you were there with him. plus, all the animals had someone to cuddle with, proving to customers how domesticated they were.

𐙚 seishu adores mundane things. cooking, cleaning, sleeping, showering, bike rides and shopping becoming that much more precious because you’re there. he’s sure that these things would be a bore to him if he were to be on his own. but ever since you came along, that has never been the case.

𐙚 despite how much time he already spends inside his store, chifuyu would definitely spend multiple evenings a week just playing with the animals and making sure they’re content rather than being a home. don’t worry, peke j comes to work with him and has so many new friends!

𐙚 rindou definitely runs his sets by you. if you praise it then he is hyped to present it to an audience at he and ran’s club. it honestly depends on your reaction, if he’ll play this set or play it safe and reuse an old one.

𐙚 conveniently, all of mitsuya’s prototypes are your size and somehow every piece looks like it was made for you; which it probably was. at this point, mitsuya designs clothes subconsciously with your figure in mind and since they fit and look so good on you, you just happen to have to model each and every piece.

𐙚 going out on extravagant dates is never on keisuke’s agenda. it’s not because he doesn’t want to spoil you and show you off, he simply doesn’t feel the need to go on these types of dates. simply smoking a zoot with each other is so impossibly intimate, having deep talks with his lovely partner is all he could ever dream of. plus… saving money on snacks, za and movies is 100% better and he’s certain you agree too!

𐙚 no one could ever suspect it, but ran loves it when you colour in his tattoos. he’s sure his friends would poke fun at him, calling him a simp or any other insult they could think of, but seeing that smile on your face as you play such close attention… he would take any insult to see it again and again.

𐙚 there’s many reasons why koko loves you. maybe how ethereal you look, how supportive and loving you are towards him… but above all else, you could be one of the only people that don’t want him for money. koko will send you money as a surprise, so you can buy yourself something nice but nine times out of ten, you will send it straight back. the other one time, you’ll come bounding home with a gift for him in your bag!

𐙚 mikey is definitely the type to sneak into your house late at night, whining about how he just missed you so much and he couldn’t wait till morning. most days, you’d wake up and find mikey almost on top of you when he wasn’t there the night before.

𐙚 if you happen to be related to any of toman, you can bet that instead of having one other brother, you now have a whole gaggle of them worrying about you. even if you’re out with your friends, you’re bound to find at least one member of toman nearby. just in case, of course!

𐙚 kazutora trusts you, keisuke and chifuyu more than anyone else and he’s been so thankful for his support system after his time in prison. however, no one sees the raw, vulnerable and so impossibly kazutora side of him. he thinks he’d been seen as weak but he’s so thankful he has you.

𐙚 he splits his time almost evenly, bikes and you. shinichiro loves both so much! however, he loves when he can mix both together! the feeling of your arms wrapped around his waist and your head leaning against his back… he couldn’t ever think of something so perfect. perhaps, he’ll build a bike just for you and then you can race each other!

𐙚 despite your hesitance, sanzu is definitely the type to convince you to try substances with him. ‘it’s a bonding experience!’ he’d exclaim, a red punisher on the tip of his tongue, taunting you to take it. his blown out pupils and cute smile is all the convincing you need before you press your lips against his, slipping the pill from his mouth and into yours.

𐙚 on the rare occasion that you do accept an expensive gift that kokonoi gives you, he’s overwhelmed with happiness when he sees you wear it or use it during your daily life. he loves that he can spoil you!

𐙚 ran loves that you and rindou share a close friendship. aside from you, rindou is who he trusts the most and the fact that he can spend time with both of you at the same time… it’s just a dream come true!!

[pernesophe]

Wind Breaker Boys x Touch Starved Reader

(Minors, Ageless and Blank Blogs DNI)

Synopsis: How the Wind Breaker boys would handle a touch averse / touch starved S/O.

Characters in this post (they're 18+ for this post) MDNI:

Togame Jo (TW: suggestive / smut - kind of poetic?, comfort, fluff)

Endo Yamato (TW: smut, comfort, fluff)

Takiishi Chika (TW: smut - kind of poetic?, comfort, fluff, violence (minimal))

Master List (I have no rights to these characters, the works they come from, or the art/screenshots/manga panels used in this post)

Togame Jo

(~1862 wc)

Togame and you have freshly started dating, but he swiftly figured out on his own how adverse you are to physical touch when he first met you and stepped a little too close for comfort. Immediately, you had tensed up and Togame took a step back, thinking his stature had scared you, but you relaxed right away and continued the amiable conversation with him. Togame was really enamored with you from the start, so even though you never said anything he made sure to be extra cautious while getting to know you, and once the two of you started dating, to not cross any boundaries.

By the end of the first month from when your relationship began, you start to wonder why Togame hasn’t tried to take your relationship to the next level. Pretty soon thereafter, you come to the realization that he hasn’t been taking your relationship further because of you. 

A month or so into the relationship, making your way to Ori to meet him for lunch, when you are grabbed by a group of delinquents. You’re lucky that you were close enough to Ori for Togame to hear you scream as one of the guys grabs you roughly by the arm and drags you into an alley where he crowds you against a wall. Immediately freeze and tense up - trying to make yourself smaller by pressing your back into the wall. The other three stand at the mouth of the alley to block you from the view of any passerbyers. 

Before it can go any further, Togame rounds the corner at a sprint and tackles two of the guys at once - swiftly knocking them out on the ground - and then turns to punch the other one who was still blocking the alley. Unfortunately he was ready as he punches Togame squarely in the face, but your boyfriend isn’t treating this like a run of the mill street fight. Barely fazed by the fist connected to his jaw, Togame grabs the guy around the torso and swings him up in the air before throwing him on the ground like a basketball. The thug bounces a couple of times before he settles there unconscious.

At this point, the one crowding you against the wall has pulled you in front of him and was brandishing a knife to your throat, but Togame is staring at your terrified expression and the endless stream of tears falling down your cheeks. You’ve never seen this look on Togame’s face before - he looks like he’s ready to murder the man, and you half believed he would too. With one step forward, Togame reaches out and grabs the man’s hand that is holding the knife. As he does, you hear the bones cracking in his hand just before your boyfriend grabs the man’s face and rips him off of you like he was tearing tissue paper away from a precious gift. The man is unconscious before he even hits the ground, leaving you and Togame in the alley under a thick veil of silence. 

Slowly, he turns to you with a concerned expression etched into his face, “Are you hurt?” Whispering to you as if you’re a wounded animal, but you quickly shake your head no at him. ”Are you okay?” Posing the question with his brows raised high as even more concern bleeds into his voice.

”Mhm!” Humming with a firm nod as you quickly wipe your tears on your sleeves, but as you look up you see Togame reaching for you and then stop himself short - deciding not to altogether. He doesn’t notice you looking though as he shoots you a gentle smile.

”Wanna go back to my place and chill out for a bit? I can order take out,” offering as he tilts his head towards the mouth of the alley. Nodding quickly as you fall in stride with him - heading towards his home side by side. Along the way you notice that Togame is fidgety - almost nervous - like he had done something wrong. Occasionally his vibrant green eyes would drift down towards you only to see you staring at him curiously, and he’d quickly look away.

Once the two of you are back at his house, and he’s sitting on the couch, you go and grab the first aid kit before silently coming to stand in between his legs. Togame has his head leaning against the back of the couch with his eyes closed so he doesn’t notice you come up.

“Um, Jo?” murmuring quietly, and he sits up - a little surprised - to see you standing in his space, something you rarely do unless the two of you are in a crowded place. “Can I clean you up?” Requesting gently, and he just stares at you for a beat before nodding dumbly. 

Some of the Shishitoren guys who also had girlfriends thought it was weird that you never bandaged Togame up like their partners would offer to do for them. Togame never let them say anything to you about it though, and never asked you to, because he never wanted to put you in an uncomfortable position.

So, he sat in complete silence - totally still - as he studied your face with intrigued green eyes while you gingerly cleaned his face and hands before bandaging his knuckles. Neither of you speak whatsoever, and when you’re finished you meet his vibrant green orbs with yours which were filled with so many unspoken things. Togame tries not to feel disappointed as you pack up the kit and take it back to the kitchen, but he can’t help but lean his head back and sigh as he closes his eyes again.

”Jo?” Your timid voice jolts him upright again to find you standing where you were just a few moments ago, hands clasped behind your back as you peer down at him. He’s dead silent as you lean closer until the ends of your hair fall forward and brush his chest, your faces only inches apart. Togame gulps loudly.

”I think you’ve already realized that I don’t really enjoy being touched…” he slowly nods at your words. “...but you are allowed to touch me, because I think I would enjoy that.” Explaining in that same soft tone with an urging edge to it now. Togame blinks up at you rapidly, swallowing thickly, before reaching out and wrapping his arms around you before pulling you down into his lap, flush against his chest. 

Without hesitation, he buries his nose in your hair and inhales your scent as he squeezes you even tighter into him. After a moment, he hears you sniffling and he immediately releases you and cups your face to make you look at him.

”Did I hurt you?!” Crying out quietly to you as his vibrant eyes fill with worry.

”N-no!” Laughing out as you shake your head at him, despite your tear stained cheeks, “i-it feels good. Overwhelming, but good.” You explain slowly to him with a small, reassuring smile. Slowly, he nods as he brings his arms down to his sides. “I just didn’t get this a lot growing up, so I didn’t even know I, like… really needed it y’know?” You try to explain in a calm tone as tears continue spilling down your cheeks. A notch forms in his brow as he processes what you’re saying, but slowly he nods again.

”Do you want me to…” he trails off as he holds his arms out lightly around you again, and you quickly nod and lean into his chest again as he squeezes you tightly against him. Eventually, Togame asks if you wanna lay down on the couch, and you happily nod. He spoons you after he puts something funny on the TV in the background, and after a short while you feel something growing hard against your back. You don’t mention it, but every so often you squirm a little closer to him - wiggling your hips when you do - until Togame releases a low groan.

”Y/N, I’m not sure if you know what you’re doing, but you’re driving me insane… please,” voice pleading as he pulls you closer to his chest and lays a wide, heavy palm on your hip to halt any further movements. Giggling softly, you throw a mischievous look over your shoulder at him before deliberately rolling your hips back into him. Letting out a frustrated sigh as his breath fans along your cheek as he slowly rolls his hips to grind against you while burying his face in your shoulder. Togame felt like his control was a string flying in the wind as it fluttered from his grasp only to just barely catch it before it flew away completely, but still, he somehow maintained his agonizingly slow pace.

”Jo,” moaning out softly as you caress your fingertips along his bicep causing him to pause in his movements and pull his head up to look at your flushed face. His breathing slightly elevated. “I want more… is that okay?” Asking so timidly, eyes half lidded as you peer up at him.

His jaw tightens and then relaxes before he gulps loudly. “Ye-yeah, but are you sure?” Asking, so very seriously before you nod up at him earnestly. 

”Mhm! I trust you Jo,” whispering softly to him and with that the string, and any restraint he had, was flying away in the breeze. Togame’s stature was much more substantial than yours, so even though you were now stark naked - you were securely covered by his warm, hardened body. The pressure was a lot, but felt so comforting as he ghosted a hand along your thigh that is flush against his hip. 

Letting Togame feel you… Feeling Togame… It was like a humid spring morning. As soon as the sun burned away the mist it would become hot and wet, but right now it was still cool despite the dampness clinging to your skin. The moon was still high up in the sky as Togame’s lips ghosted over your dewy skin - his tongue poking out to swipe along your collarbone. The sun’s rays have only just begun clearing away the mist when the pressure subsided as Togame pressed open mouthed kisses over your hip. His tongue eagerly searches for the dew that’s collected in between your thighs. His name and little whines tumble from your lips like the birds announcing the rising sun, and only after they subsided did he finally return to you. The moon disappeared from the sky as the sun hung high above in its place now.

After this day, you are still averse to physical touch, but never from Togame. Actually, much to the rest of Shishitoren’s surprise, you were quite clingy with Togame: always holding his hand and wrapping your other around his bicep whenever you could, often sitting in his lap when it was appropriate, greeting him with a warm hug where you bury your face into his chest and inhale him deeply. Of course - now - you always clean and bandage Togame up after a fight while he studies your calm expression with rapt interest every time - just like he did the first time.

Endo Yamato

(~2378 wc)

Endo is much more touchy feely with you than you are with him, and even though you tense up often when he initiates physical contact - he doesn’t shy away from you or let go of you unless you tell him directly that you feel uncomfortable. Whenever this does happen, he just smiles at you and nods while giving you a little personal space. It’s a little bit of a possessive thing - you both frequent the Red Light District and he wants those around you to know that you’re his - but also from the moment you met he got the sense that you want to be touched but just don’t know how to ask.

You had gone to him for your first tattoo, which is when he first touched you and you had tensed up so bad under the needle that he sighed out, “Y’know this is gonna be absolute hell if you don’t relax, right?” His brow arched with annoyance, and you quickly nodded in embarrassment.

Screwing your eyes shut, you took a deep breath before willing your body to relax. You had managed to stay relaxed, and still without wincing once - though at times your body shook from just laying on the table that long - but you never asked for a break. Endo honestly was impressed at how well you handled the pain versus one gentle touch from his hand.

Before you left, you asked him about the healing process and if it would be considerably raised off the skin after healing. He explained that it kind of would, but not a ton and offered to let you feel one of his tattoos for reference. You had hesitated when he held out his arm before hovering your fingertips above the inked skin, even peering back up at him with a small notch in your brow as if to ask, ‘are you sure it’s okay’. A wide grin spread over his face at your hesitation and big doe eyes - as if you were worried you would hurt him.

”It’s fine, go ahead.” He encouraged you with a laugh, even raising his arm so he brushed your fingertips with it, and with that you oh so gently caressed the inky black lines as your eyes lit up at the new experience. After you left that day, Endo thought about you extensively - much to Takiishi’s distaste, until the next time you showed up and his fiery haired companion realized that whatever Endo saw in you was just different from himself.

A few months later, you had timidly ended up in Endo’s shop for another tattoo, to which he immediately asked to see his work and how it healed. When you showed it to him he complimented you on how well taken care of it is as he ghosted his hand over the inked skin. This time you shivered, and didn’t tense at all for him. This appointment went by much more smoothly than the last time, but before you left Endo gave you his number and told you to contact him directly for your next tattoo rather than walk in - so he can brainstorm the design with you more. Gratefully, you nodded and took his contact info.

The next time you messaged him about a tattoo, he insisted on meeting you somewhere for coffee while discussing it. He made sure to sit as close to you as possible as you watched him sketch out a few designs - his bicep brushing your arm, and thigh touching your leg the whole time. At first, you tensed, but Endo didn’t move away, and after a few minutes you relaxed and even leaned into him to get a better look at the design. 

After that you started hanging out with Endo and Takiishi outside of your tattoo appointments, though it was obvious you were solely there for Endo - you and Takiishi got along well enough. For a while your relationship with Endo was unclear because he never officially asked you out. Takiishi was actually the one to clarify the status for you both when one day you were walking with them when someone they knew asked who you were. Before you or Endo could say anything, Takiishi - with the flattest affect - said, “That’s Endo’s girl. Make sure nobody messes with her.” It shocked both of you that he would go as far to say that, but also that he was able to clock your relationship status well before you were able to.

Finally, maybe 6 months after being deemed official, the two of you are chilling at his shop after he closed up for the day. Endo sits down right next to you and then turns to you without warning before scooping you into his lap where holds you as he lets his hands wander lightly over your back and thighs.

“E-Endo, what’re you-” Murmuring in a bewildered tone, but he silences you with one heated look from his cobalt eyes.

”Impatient.” He answers simply, to which your eyebrows furrow - deeply perplexed. “I’m impatient, because I think that you actually really want this, but you can’t bring yourself to admit it,” posing his dilemma to you with a tilt of his head. Gulping loudly as you quickly avert your gaze, but he reaches up and gently grabs you by the jaw and makes you look at him.

”If it’s not clear by now, I want to give you what you want, but I can’t do that if you won’t tell me what it is,” he explains in a slightly gentler, yet urging tone this time. After a pregnant pause you swallow thickly as you nod at him.

”I-I do… want this, but, um… I have no experience, and I’m awkward, and I tense up when I’m touched cause I’m not used to it and all of that seems really not attractive,” whispering softly as a blush creeps over your face. Endo releases your jaw only to wrap his arms tightly around you and pull you flush to his chest as he throws his head back to let out a boisterous laugh.

”Do you think I wasn't aware of that?” Asking with a slight rib to his tone after his laughter died down before sitting up to meet your gaze again. “I love your awkward, inexperienced self and not once have I thought you were ‘not attractive’ because of it, or the fact that you tense up when you’re touched. It doesn’t mean you’re untouchable,” he assures you through a lighthearted chuckle. Not knowing the effect those words would have on you, Endo is shocked to see you crumble and bury your face in his neck as you start to sob.

”Shit-fuck! What’d I say wrong?” Demanding with a voice filled with worry as he starts rubbing your back soothingly.

”No-nothing,” you warble out as you wrap your arms tightly around his neck. Stunned, Endo just reaches up and holds the back of your head while his other arm is braced around your back to hold you firmly. “Yo-you really think I’m touchable?” Murmuring in such a soft voice that absolutely bleeds vulnerability. Endo’s heart twists at the pain in your voice, and the unspoken sentiment that you really thought you were untouchable.

”Yeah, I really, really do.” Whispering into your hair and you just bury your face more into his neck. After a long, long while - once your sobbing subsides and it’s just the sound of you two breathing - Endo breaks the silence. ”Do you want me to show you just how touchable you are?” The question wrapped in cautious hesitation  - prepared for you to say no, but instead you slowly lean away from him so you can meet his gaze. 

”I do,” Murmuring softly as you nod - your eyes gazing pleadingly into his fiery, cobalt ones.

Endo smiles gently at you before maneuvering you onto your back on the couch with him laying in between your legs. He starts by placing chaste kisses all over your face before finally settling on your lips. Slow in his touches at first - deliberate in feeling you - and then his mouth becomes hungry. Nipping at your bottom lip until you part your lips so he can slip his tongue in your mouth and caress your wet muscle with his. As he worked his mouth over yours, his hands slowly mapped out your supple curves and dips as they roamed across your body eagerly.

Breaking from the kiss so you can swallow some air doesn’t slow Endo’s movements as he redirects his lips to your jawline, down the column of your neck, over your collarbones and coming to a stop at your now bare chest. In the whirlwind of kissing and hands, you had barely noticed that Endo had expertly stripped you down to your panties. Squeezing one of your breasts with a wide, rough palm as he brings his lips to the other and wraps them around your pert nipple.

While working his hand and mouth over your breasts, he begins slowly rolling his hips into yours causing a delicious friction you’ve never felt before. Once your breathing is uneven and you keep whining with your fingers carded through Endo’s hair, he finally releases your breasts and places open mouthed kisses down to your drenched panties. Peeling them off of you, he then litters kisses and gentle nips all over your thighs before settling in to absolutely devour your dripping core. Between his tongue and long, thick fingers - you’re struck with rolling orgasms that send euphoric shocks to your nerve endings until he comes up for air. Licking your arousal from his lips and fingers with a satisfied smile curling his lips as he crawled back up to you.

”I think you get the idea, though I haven’t done nearly everything I wanted to yet.” Musing softly as he settles in next to you and pulls you into his arms. The two of you lay like that in the quiet of his shop until you get your bearings about you again.

Eventually, he takes you to the small back room that has a roll out bed roll that just barely fits the two of you, and then cleans you up before he lays you both down to cuddle. He suggests spooning, and you ask if you can be the big spoon so you can hide your face in his back - a tad embarrassed of all the new sounds you were making earlier. So that’s how the two of you are laid out - you curled into his back while tracing his tattoos as he relishes in your light touches.

Tracing your index fingertip along the one he has with Takishi - you suddenly ask, “you really love him don’t you?” A long pause passes before he hums as if he’s deep in thought.

“Yes, but more like art. I see a painting when I look at him, so it’s just hard not to admire him…” Endo muses softly without moving to look at you. Sitting up and folding your legs under you so you can look down at him, and he rolls on his back so you are in the crook of his arm flush with his side as he peers back up at you.

“If I were a piece of art - what would I be?” Asking innocently with a slight tilt of your head as you study his expression with curious eyes. A long moment passes as he really takes the time to consider the question. 

“A Tapestry.” He finally responds in an airy tone, and you brow furrows in question. 

“Why?” Breathing out softly as you lean a little closer - the tips of your hair brushing his chest - but he just stares up at the ceiling while he forms his answer. After a pregnant pause, he finally parts his lips to speak.

“Because a tapestry is made of all this beautiful material that needs to be processed and spun, and then it has to be handled to make the finished product. Bent every which way - every movement - every single touch was solely for utility. But the finished product is still moveable - like a thick blanket - none of the threads became stiff with all that abuse. When all is said and done though, the tapestry is just hung up on some wall - beautiful, and becoming even more beautiful with age due to how the thread may weather… but you’re not allowed to touch it anymore. I’ve always thought it was the cruelest way to treat a piece of art…” Releasing a sorrowful sigh as his blue eyes cut back to yours. “Because, really, if you just reached out and caressed it,” he squeezes you closer to him as his other hand drifts up your back before murmuring the rest, “then you would find it’s still so soft and comforting so many years after it was woven. Like she’s been silently begging to feel someone’s touch all this time.” Tears start to fall down your cheeks as his words hang in the air like incense smoke swirling around you. 

Wordlessly, he grabs you by the back of your head and pulls you down to lay on top of his chest while he presses chaste kisses onto the top of your head and lets you silently cry into him. The two of you stay like that for hours - you relishing in finally being able to lean on someone like this, and Endo just relishing in you. 

After this day, your relationship sees drastic changes - mostly from you. Firstly, you no longer shy away from Endo’s touches or him being in your space, in fact you lean into him now with a serene smile and big doe eyes trained on his joyful expression. Secondly, since that day, you’ve started reaching out to touch him - grabbing his hand to hold while you two are strolling about, asking if you can sit in his lap while he’s looking over tattoo designs, getting on your tip toes while gripping his bicep so you can plant a kiss on his cheek. The biggest development is that, whereas Endo always made you blush at the start of your relationship, now not a day goes by that you don’t make your boyfriend bright pink from your affections.

Takiishi Chika

(~1988 wc)

How did you and Takiishi start dating? Well did you actually ever officially start? The two of you met when you were being hassled in the Red Light District while just trying to get to your tattoo appointment, and then this guy with long fiery red hair took them out in the blink of an eye.

You had tried to thank him, but he just ignored you - turning on his heel and kept walking. After shrugging it off, you went on your way - only the two of you were walking the same way. 

“Are you following me?” Eventually he whirls around to face you, and demands in an annoyed tone.

”Oh God no! I’m sorry - I think we’re actually just heading in the same direction…” murmuring timidly. When he just stares at you emotionlessly, you quickly add. “I’ll wait a few minutes and let you get ahead of me, so I’ll be out of your hair!” To which he just narrows his eyes at you and stares.

”That doesn’t help when I think you’re following me.” He states flatly.

”Right. Well, what do you want me to do?” Inquiring innocently with a tilt of your head as you waited for his instruction. At that, he furrowed his brow deeper at you.

”Where are you going?” He asked monotonically - expression bored.

”Uh, I have a tattoo appointment with this guy named Endo…” you answered quietly. At that, his face didn’t light up, but there was recognition there.

”I’m heading that way too. Come on,” he directed you, and you followed along without question. From there, you don’t know why, but Takishi took an interest in you if you could call it that. He more or less just wanted you around, and if you weren’t he wouldn’t get mad but he would ask where you’ve been and why he hasn’t seen you. Someone called you “Takiishi’s Girl” at some point, and the rest was history.

Regardless of him expecting your presence - he never really touched you. He does listen to you though - like the time Endo was telling you about his tattoo design for them, and your boyfriend (?) got annoyed and punched Endo. It was the first time you witnessed it, and it really bothered you. Endo laughed it off, but you looked at Takiishi so sadly with your hands clasped in front of you and whispered, “I really wanted to hear about your and Endo’s tattoo though…”

Endo almost laughed at you, but Takiishi just stared at you with a notch in his brow for a long moment - so long you thought he may be really angry with you - but instead his expression smoothed out and he just said “my bad,” and then asked Endo to tell you about it. Both, Endo and you were completely stunned, and you were worried you had done something wrong, but Takiishi never brought it up so you didn’t either. You don’t know if he stopped hitting Endo altogether, or just in front of you, but you were grateful for it - Endo seemed to be too.

After about 8 months of being in Takiishi’s world, and noticing that you were the only female he deigned to give any time to you start to wonder if you’re allowed to touch him. Testing the waters at first just by walking a little closer to him down the street, and sitting a little closer to him on the couch. Sometimes you’d stand a breath away from him in Endo’s shop and wonder if he hates it, doesn’t mind, or doesn’t notice at all.

One day, you miscalculate as you’re walking shoulder to shoulder with him - Takiishi barely sparing you a glance - when you trip over something in the street and tumble face forward towards the sidewalk. Before you crash on the pavement, you’re hoisted back to your feet by Takiishi in one fluid motion. Immediately you start apologizing for being so clumsy, but he just says, “don’t worry about it,” before he checks you over to make sure you aren’t hurt. Then he turns as if nothing happened and continues walking, but you walk a little farther from him than before just to be on the safe side. Throughout your walk, Takiishi drifts closer and closer to you until he’s shoulder to shoulder with you once again.

When the two of you get back to his place, he settles wordlessly on the couch while you change into some comfier clothes. The thing about Takiishi is - he’s never openly affectionate so you have to look for the signs. For example, he noticed that when you came over you would bring comfy clothes and sleepwear to hang out in, and it seemed like a hassle to him, so the next time you came over he told you to look in the bottom left drawer of his dresser. What you found was just a bunch of his clothes, so at first you said, “cool,” to which he rolled his eyes and said, “stop being a pack mule and wear those when you need something comfortable or something to sleep in. Leave your things in that drawer if you want.” It was so apathetic the way he said it, but the fact that he did it at all meant he was thinking about you.

When you come back to the living room, you sit close to him, but not touching as he puts on some action film in the background and mindlessly scrolls on his phone. Peering at him out of the corner of your eye, you think back on how the two of you met and how you ended up where you sit now - comfortably next to one of the most dangerous people in the area. And yet the only thing plaguing your mind is how to ask him to let you hold his hand.

  Suddenly, Takiishi looks at you straight on with those piercing amber eyes, making you jump as he asks, “Why’re you staring?”

”Um…” humming as your eyes widen under the intensity of his stare, and he narrows his eyes at you as he waits for your answer. “I want to hold your hand, but I don’t know how to ask,” blurting out before you look at your hands in your lap in embarrassment. Silence, except the sound of gunfire from the TV.

”So just hold my hand then,” he says with an undertone of exasperation. When you look over you see the back of his hand is now resting on his thigh - palm up and fingers outstretched for you. Hesitating only slightly, you reach out and take his hand. It’s warm and rough, you think to yourself with delight. Takiishi watches your face light up in triumph as you relax a bit more into the couch, and he can’t help the almost imperceivable laugh that puffs past his lips.

”What? Were you afraid or something?” Takiishi inquires, and when you look up at him you see a rare, amused smile curling his lips and a hue of adoration in his eyes.

”Um, well… not scared, just nervous?” Asking rhetorically before biting your bottom lip apprehensively.

”Why?” He scoffs out, genuinely curious causing you to laugh a little - forgetting your boyfriend isn’t scared or nervous about much.

”Be-because I guess I’m just not used to it…” explaining slowly and when he just cocks his head in question, you elaborate. “I mean - I just haven’t done a lot of this,” you hold up his hand in yours, “or anything else… and I don’t know - I want to - but I don’t know how to initiate things, and sometimes it doesn’t seem like you’re interested so… I guess I get a little worried you wouldn’t want to do this with me…” Trailing off quietly as you start to cower under his unblinking gaze. Another long beat of silence passes barring the gunfire and Takiishi’s deafening stare.

”You thought I wouldn’t want to hold your hand?” He asks in discernable disbelief. Brow creasing as he thought back to catching you after you tripped earlier and how satisfying your soft curves felt in the palms of his hands, and how he really didn’t want to let you go. Sadly, you avert your gaze and nod slowly. 

Takiishi studies you for a long moment and how your expression was so soft and vulnerable. He still had trouble placing why he wanted you around, when you could never hold your own in a fight - least of all against him. Why he never even considered hurting you, and actually found the thought made him incredibly angry. Why he craved your presence… but in these moments it was clear. He just hated to admit that he wanted someone to be vulnerable with him - feel safe enough to be that way around him - and you were. Takiishi really wasn’t one to initiate physical affection, but in this moment he felt like… screw it.

Disentangling your hand from his as you look at him in shock - like you were in trouble - but he’s already picking you up and setting you on his lap so you’re straddling him with his wide palms gripping your hips. Now you’re staring down at him with wide eyes, mouth agape in utter shock, and your hands laying lightly over Takiishi’s hardened chest. Slowly, he lets his hands drift along your curves, down over your thighs - squeezing gently - before snaking his arms around your torso and pulling you flush to his chest so the two of you are nose to nose.

”Y/N. I hope you understand that I’m never gonna be a touchy feely person, or talk about my emotions in depth,” he says bluntly and you swallow thickly. “But, don’t ever not talk to me because you’re nervous, because… I do want to hold your hand.” Murmuring quietly before tilting his head forward until his forehead is pressed to yours and he’s staring into the depths of your soul. “I want to do a lot more, if you’ll let me…” his voice grows low and gravelly as he tightens his arms around you - causing you to squeak as you grip his shirt in your fists. Mouth running dry as you silently stare at your boyfriend in shock, only bringing that amused smile to his lips again. “Y/N.” He speaks firmly - jolting you out of your stupor. 

”Mhm?” Humming back in a stilted tone, to which a wide grin spreads over his face, almost throwing you into shock once more.

”Am I allowed to touch you?” Asking directly this time, and you just nod dumbly. ”Use your words,” he commands with an undertone of warning.

”Ye-yes, you’re allowed to touch me,” you whisper dryly and his grin only grows as he reaches up and cups your cheek with a warm, rough palm before guiding your lips to his. 

Touching Takiishi… Kissing Takiishi… it felt like you were caught in the undertow. With each wave of movement - a squeeze of his hand on your supple curves, a gentle nip to your bottom lip, a sweet caress of his tongue against yours - you were pulled under into a swirl of emotions and sensations that rushed through your veins and over your skin. Only for you to breach the surface for a gulp of air before being dragged under again by his suffocating warmth. It felt overwhelming - overstimulating - like Takiishi was enveloping you completely, and honestly you loved every second of it.

When everything is said and done, you awake - naked as the day you were born - wrapped in Takiishi’s arms and pressed flush to his chest. His all encompassing presence did not diminish one bit even as he slept. After this development in your relationship, Takishi still doesn’t hold your hand openly, or is openly affectionate in public, but he does make sure you feel his touch with a much greater frequency. No longer do you question if Takiishi craves your touch either.

[intynidad]

Yandere otome au

TW: yandere tendencies, kinda suggestive in some part, talking about death and violence (not towards reader)

(All characters are 18+)

Long post

Part 2!

You wouldn't call yourself an otaku, although you enjoyed games and anime, you weren't like those hardcore fans... that was until you got your hands on a copy of "By Love for Love: The Game."

This game was just your cup of tea, and you might or might not have become obsessed with it.

The game consisted of the heroine trying to win the heart of one or more suitors before her rival. It sounds cliché, but the twist of the game was that the heroine had to manipulate the chosen love interest to get rid of her rival, so they could take revenge or something like that. You honestly stopped paying attention to the plot halfway through because you were more interested in talking to the cute boys and girls!.

You were playing when you fell asleep at your computer.

You woke up to the feeling of soft silk and the scent of vanilla, and wait, what?

Your sheets were definitely not made out of silk, and your room smelled like cup noodles, not vanilla!

You woke up in a flash and looked at yourself in the mirror.

Y/N L/N, heir of the L/N company, and the rival of the heroine.

Oh for fuck’s sake…

Okay, okay, don't panic. Yes, apparently, you have been transported into the game "By Love For Love," but not as the heroine, but as the rival!

That was very bad news. You tried to remember some of the plot as to why the heroine wants you dead, but your mind just wouldn't work right now.

You knew you were the competition for the heroine, and you would surely lose if you chose to actually fight against her for the love of any of the love interests. So, you came up with a plan.

You would try to maintain friendly terms with all the love interests and choose a route that the heroine wouldn't take. This way, the tension between the two of you wouldn't spark.

But nothing could be as easy as it seemed, right?

The childhood friend

He was your favorite among all the potential love interests. He was sweet, caring, and a true sweetheart to be around.

He was absolutely delighted when you showed an interest in spending more time with him and started paying attention when he talked about his day.(what are this feeling?)

Initially, he stuck around because your parents were friends, and you had known each other since you were both in diapers. But now, it seemed like there was something more between you.

Your sudden change in attitude and the way you became so sweet and caring towards him caught him off guard. He couldn't fathom how he hadn't noticed your true nature until now.

He firmly believed that your destinies were intertwined, as if they were star-crossed. In his eyes, you belonged together because you had been together since childhood.

("Hey, we're going to stick together until the end, right?")

("You wouldn't leave me, would you?")

The older family friend:

He was a business partner of one of your parents, despite being just a couple of years older than you.

The older family friend that you were terrified off because beneath his charming facade lay an extremely sadistic nature.

You vividly remember how he ruthlessly disposed of the rival when the heroine chose his route, which made you extremely wary of him.

The older family friend that failed to comprehend that whenever you two met, you dared not make eye contact with him. Your fear and unease were palpable.

the older family friend that began to see you as a small, cute bunny in need of protection. "Aren't you the cutest!" he would remark, as if finding amusement in your vulnerability.

The Older family friend that almost broke the hand of one of his coworkers that insinuated that he would ask you on a date

The older family friend that starts to fantasize about taking you to his place and adorning your body in strong silk ribbons so you wouldn’t be able to escape his love (even tho something thinking of you pleading for help was something that made him all giddy)

The older family friend that slowly sharpens his pencil and fantasies about stabbing it on the eye of any bastard that dares to look at you

The heroine

The heroine, initially, despised you with a fiery intensity.

She couldn't fathom how you had the audacity to show up with your attractive appearance, seemingly disrupting her path to finding the love(s) of her life.

Every time you smiled at her with genuine kindness and inquired about her day, it only fueled her anger further.

Her resentment grew to the point where she started to keep an eye on you, not out of genuine interest but rather hoping to uncover some sort of compromising information that she could potentially use against you.

After some time -totally not stalking you- she ended up craving even more about you

She just needed to know everything about you!

The heroine that starts to use her influence and pretty face to spread rumors of HER love interest,hoping that it might reach your ears and you back down and go running into HER arms

The loner

They were honestly the one you knew the least about. Despite encountering this love interest in the game, you found yourself drawn more to the other characters and their storylines. Their appearance, personality, or initial interactions simply didn't capture your attention or ignite that spark of curiosity within you.

Didnt you know he was a huge masochist and the fact that you ignore him just make you want you more!

Oh how they wish you could look at them with disdain and call them a freak and told them how you despise them and-gosh they are drooling aren’t they

They are just a Pathetic little person that is begging for you to step on their throat and push until it cracks

[fawninthesnow]

𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐚 & 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

(because why not)

TW: Mentions of Violence etc

Note: this has been on my mind for a while lol.

Before his mental illness started to plauge him, Caracalla was more mature than Geta. (maybe in the first years of their rule)

Caracalla became a kleptomaniac in his youth. Such led him to choose a monkey as his pet (animals known for stealing)

Geta is more than accepting of his brothers sexuality, and gets quickly infuriated when others provoke him.

Geta is clingy towards his concubines, often splurging on them and adorning them in his own jewels/clothes.

They were not born violent, however, were convinced by an older advisor(?) that violence was the only way to rule Rome.

Their mother shared features with Geta, making it easy for him to manipulate Caracalla into giving him more power (due to his maternal issues).

Thx for reading!!!

[kyunniebuns]

˗ˏˋ E-rank(?)! Jinwoo x E-rank Witch! Reader ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

・┆✦ Entry : 029 ✦ ┆・

‼️[ TW: Yandere Jinwoo, Violence , Manipulation]

꒰ Reader's Powers are inspired by the beautiful manga titled "Witch Hat Atelier". Please give it a read if you're into otherwordly art and adore fantasy! ꒱

╰┈➤ ❝ [ Let Me Tear Apart Everything that Touched You ] ¡! ❞

You really don't know when exactly it had started, all you knew was that Jinwoo suddenly had a second puberty and his height doubled or maybe tripled. His lanky body turned from noodlesticks to buff and solid muscles seemingly carved out of stone with how sturdy they are. His muscles would in fact, even hurt you even as you try to inflict pain on him.

You wanted to ask him about it really, but maybe it's just Jinwoo having not reached full puberty in his teens so his hormones decided to finally pop-in and say hi in order to compensate for their lack of action during his supposed growing days.

Either way, you're proud of him.

Jinwoo's growth spurt had inspired you to work even harder. Thus, you started entering more and more gates much to Jinwoo's dismay.

You two had even argued over it several times but it ends with Jinwoo sighing in defeat and begging, begging, you to immediately leave the gate should anything weird transpire.

It's not that he doesn't have faith in you or he is underestimating you, it's just that he knows all too well the dangers of the gates. Still, he steps aside and lets you be on your way.

Your powers aren't really too great to be honest, consuming even. You needed to draw various symbols on the papers you carry around in order to cast spells. Sure, they could be intimidating sometimes since you can cast spells that are big— But otherwise? It's really just for show and doesn't do much damage.

Oftentimes you are ridiculed along with Jinwoo, two jokes of a hunter dating. Birds of the same feather really do flock together. Just like Jinwoo, you had your fair share of mockery and on more brutal days— Your fellow hunters would beat you up when a raid goes unsuccesful.

You never told Jinwoo about those days, you could never have the heart to make him worry more when he is already busy providing for his family and especially for his mother who is stuck in eternal sleep.

Swallow it done and smile whenever you're with him.

That's what you always do, praying so hard that your deceitful grins could fool him and mask the pain you're desperately trying to hide from his pretty grey eyes.

But... Now.

Maybe you should have listened to Jinwoo earlier when he said you shouldn't go out today.

What a big mistake was it.

You foolishly signed a contract with a raid team and did not thoroughly read the terms and conditions just like Jinwoo had strictly instructed you to do so.

Now you're here, absolutely horrified as the group of burly and violent men inched towards you, bloodlust evident as they inched closer and closer— Backing you up on a corner.

You wanted to cry, you wanted to scream, but your fight or flight instincts instantly turned into freeze.

Not a single muscle in your body would obey the hammering demands of your heart and mind to move— To run.

As your fear-stricken eyes glanced back at those animal-like men, you started to silently curse yourself too.

You should have been good and listened to Jinwoo, because that man's intuition had always been right. You shouldn't have argued with him when he pressed you to stay, you should have been goo.

You should have.

Now who's the fool cornered like a frozen rabbit in the den of lions? Who's the idiot about to piss their pants from sheer fear?

You shouldn't have cussed out Jinwoo before you left the door.

You should have said that you love him.

You should have told him how proud you are of his progress.

You should have told him that you would always be by his side.

You should have given him goodbye kisses.

But now, the last memory Jinwoo would have of you is your prissy face spatting out how nonesensically overprotective he is of you and that he should be worried about himself instead.

You closed your eyes, accepting your fate until you felt a shift in the air around you. The winds suddenly whistled an eerie tune and you stumbled on your feet as the shadows beneath you quivered and rose to be black flames.

In that blaze formed a man, a distinctive blue fabric popping out of nowhere and a shade that you instantly recognized.

Jinwoo.

His back was turned towards you, his hand shielding you away from the preying bastards.

"Fuck..." One of your kidnappers cusses, grinning maniacally. "I almost shit my pants there buddy, you tryna fucking film a movie or something?"

"He's got quite the pretty boy face, bet it'll be prettier once we rough him about. huh?" Another cackles, flaring Jinwoo's temper even more.

"Sarang," Jinwoo's deep voice calls out, causing your heart to tremble at the dangerous tone. "Close your eyes."

You obey his orders and close your eyes immediately. After having learned your lesson, you're not taking any chances after hearing that dangerous tone in his normally gentle and loving voice.

The next thing that happened was a cacophony of tortured moans and wails. Maybe you could hear some other things snapping, a sound you pray to never know since along with those sounds comes with the chorus of tortured cries for mercy.

Eventually, the brutal sounds would come to an end and you feel someone towering over you.

"Babe," Jinwoo calls out and your eyes would flutter open as you feel gentle fingers caressing the side of your cheek. "Look at me."

And so you do, your gaze falling on his blood-splattered features that looked hauntingly handsome.

Your sobs would eventually come out, both from being struck by fear from the earlier events, to feeling bad about how you yelled at him earlier, to feeling remourseful that this man had to put blood on his hands because of your recklessness.

A series of sorries would spill out from your mouth and Jinwoo only comforts you by pulling you to his chest.

"It's fine, it's fine" He says, kissing the side of your head affectionately as he runs a hand on the back of your head. "It's alright, don't cry, don't say sorry. I know it was scary. I know, baby."

His words would fill you with a sense of relief, not knowing the malintent behind it.

Truthfully, Jinwoo already knew of your predicament and had been aware since you first made contact with those bastards. But he needed you to have a glimpse of the horrors, he needed to make you afraid so that this wouldn't happen again.

He hoped by doing this, you would become traumatized and never dare to step in a gate ever again.

Reckless. Yes.

But he would do anything to keep you out of danger.

Again, and again, he kisses your pretty little face, whispering words of comfort in your ears and subtly manipulating you into never stepping inside these horrible places again.

All you need is Jinwoo.

You wont have to worry about money any more.

So don't step into these places, just be a good doll and stay home.

Let him do all the dirty work.

Or else Jinwoo will have to do this again. You don't want that, do you, dear?

You wouldn't want Jinwoo to cut off everyone's necks, do you?

Good?

Good.

Good.

A/N: Whoopsies, I made another Yandere Jinwoo fic... Hahah... Sorry guys.

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧･ﾟ: ~♡ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.