#tw: dark things implied

[themadzarka]

This is unnecessarily dark.

Don't smoke monster dust you guys...

[wastemanjohn]

spn // amy winehouse - what is it about men

[prettybabybaby]

Bully!Eddie fucking you for the first time, in front of a guy he’d just beaten nearly to death, for daring to bully you as well. Only he gets to bully you. And when he saw this stupid jock, pulling on your hair like he does, and daring to yank at the shoulder off your blouse, Eddie saw red. This guy’s still spluttering up blood, the only reason you know he’s still alive, as tears cover your vision while Eddie slowly, but hard, fucks you. Telling you not to look at that asshole, ignore him, just look at Eddie. Don’t look at anyone else while he’s treating your pretty pussy to his nice cock. Introducing them when he’s been waiting patiently for so long. No one else gets to touch his little crybaby’s hair. No one else gets to make her cry. Gets to make her bruise. That’s his job. Isn’t it?

¡ 18+ only ! ¡ minors do not interact !

content: bully!eddie, fem!reader, blood, implied violence

¡ stranger things masterlist !

your back slides against the pavement with every harsh thrust, the grimace on your face shifting to an expression of pleasure, though guilt lingers in your eyes. eddie’s fingers are tangled in your hair, tugging gently.

your core aches but the groaning man beside you has your attention. you’re embarrassed, thankful for the way eddie holds your dress against your hips, concealing you from the man. your underwear is pushed to the side, a pull away from snapping.

his touch is gentle, tender. you’d be surprised if your mind wasn’t lingering elsewhere. the man looks terrible, crimson red splattered across his swollen face and torn clothing.

“don’t look at him,” eddie growls, a harsh pull snapping your head towards him. his face is painted a faint red, a darker hue in the shape of a hand marked his cheek. “he deserved it.”

[dingbatnix]

what happens if dream accidentally swallows punz (your lastest post)

Tw hard vore n digestion and stuff btw

.

.

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Death, probably.

If Punz gets accidentally swallowed, I'd say dream would have maybeeeee one to two minutes to barf him up? Before Punz gets horrifically burned at the very least, or, at the very worst, digested.

I wanna say Dream's got a stomach like a bearded vulture (the bird that eats bones) so he's got some very, very acidic stomach acid.

+, there's be lots of panic on Punz's side, lots of, "I can't believe he did that" kinda stuff.

If Dream realized it was Punz, there would be lots of guilt and panic and all that as he saved or failed to save him.

If he doesn't realize it was Punz, he would eventually come out of the feral/rage state on his own and wonder what happened to Punz, and be very worried. He'd never know.

Of course, there's a certain third party that would never let any of this happen...

[sonicpilled]

[wayward-sherlock]

goodbye stranger.

They’d already made it to the end of the world. There was no point in waiting, not anymore — Will was almost certain that if he waited any longer, the words he wanted to say would be his dying ones, melting on his lips with warm blood and his last breath.

Will loved Mike.

And now he was going to kill him.

will's been taken by vecna. he's killed mike hundreds of times, and he has no idea which one is going to be real.

for @bylerween2023 day 4!

[gallusrostromegalus]

Further Rangiku thoughts, because this reappeared in my notes:

In AEIWAM, Rangiku is Captain of the 10th and Hitsugaya is her lieutenant. This is an arrangement that annoys everyone until they consider how much worse it would be the other way around.

---

The vast majority of Shinigami come into their spiritual prowess in late puberty or early adulthood, but Hitsugaya hit his at the equivalent of age eight, and worse, his zanpakuto is Hyorinmaru, a sword spirit that keeps re-incarnating in different psychics, pretty much all of whom have turned out to be immensely powerful and influential. Any dojo or military organization would consider it a massive boon to have the wielder of Hyorinmaru in their ranks. Any noble house would be thrilled to have him marry into the family. Others still think he'd make a fascinating lab subject. The fact that Hitsugaya is a child matters little to the benefits of abducting him, forcing him to marry, or worse.

So from the moment Hitsugaya first drew the dragon blade, there's been a target on his back.

He does have one thing going for him though: His Big Sister is already a shinigami, and during her first break home from the academy, Momo brings her new Upperclassman Bestie home to the farm to meet everyone.

It took Hitsugaya a few years to work out exactly WHAT that brief look of distress on Rangiku's face when they first met was, but once he did, her subsequent insistence that he come back with them for a little trip to the city "just so he can see the academy, and there's some people I'd like him to meet-" made an awful lot more sense. As did her then dragging him along on a "Ditch Day" to the city center to see the first division, then bull-rushing the guards and actually carrying him under her arm like a stolen piglet as she sprinted through the division until she got to the inner courtyards where an austere but refined old man was pouring himself a western-style afternoon tea.

"HI LIEUTENANT-CAPTAIN SASAKIBE SORRY TO INTERRUPT I'M RANGIKU MATSUOMOTO I WAS AT YOUR LECTURE ON ANOMALOUS ZANPAKUTO RIGHT BEFORE BREAK-" She bellowed, holding him up to the old man's face, where he was subjected to the Infamous Chojiro Sasakibe Glower Of Disapproval for the first time. "-THIS IS MY FRIEND'S LITTLE BROTHER TOSHIRO HITSUGAYA HE HAS HYORINMARU."

Sasakibe arched a skeptical brow at them, and set down his teacup.

"PLEASE SHOW HIM YOUR SWORD BEFORE I GET STABBED?" Rankigu prompted, lightly jiggling Toshiro to his senses.

Blankly, Toshiro held up the katana that had manifested in his room last month. Sasakibe leaned forward, glowering at the sword for a moment before his expression shifted to mild surprise and then a pleasant smile.

"...While I must recommend making an appointment in the future Miss Matsumoto, I must thank you for introducing us so promptly. Please, join me." Sasakibe gesture to the tea service set at the table.

"...Master Hitsugaya, was it?" he asked, and Toshiro nodded. "We've been expecting you."

---

Rangiku came to the farm every school break and nearly every weekend after that, bearing study guides and binders full of intelligence profiles and tutored both him and Momo, despite being in the final year at the academy and working on her graduation thesis. She reviewed historical data and survey methods with Momo, every Official Record coming with a bonus Rangiku Record of what a licentious, cruel, lying shithead every district Daimyo, governmental body or noble scion was. Toshiro developed an extreme suspicion of the bourgeoisie and government in short order.

You may enroll in the academy next year, if you like. Sasakibe had offered him at the end of the bewildering tea time. I cannot compel you, and I do not wish to frighten you, but I must be honest. They will come for you and the promise of Hyorinmaru sooner than later.

The first attempt came while walking to the train station to meet Momo and Rangiku.

It was January, and he was probably under-dressed for the weather, but at least the reason the cold never bothered him was a little clearer, and he was taking his time, looking at the way ice crystals had formed on the dead grasses and fenceposts during the previous night's hoarfrost.

"Excuse me young man?" Someone called out behind him. "Can you tell me how to get to the Hitsugaya Farmstead?"

He turned to look- there was a man in the road, dressed in the formal way one might expect a governmental agent to be, but with a notable lack of agency logo, something all legitimate agents were required to display per C46 Departmental Regulations, section 406- I've been studying momo's homework too hard.

-but FUCK this guy.

"Which one? There's like five Hitsugayas in my class alone." he lied.

"Oh, maybe you know him!" the man smiled, stepping closer, and Toshiro fought to not flinch. "I'm looking for Toshiro Hitsugaya- I'm with the Shin'o Academy, he's won a scholarship!"

The Hell And Fuck You Are. "Lucky bastard." he grumbled.

"You know him?" the definitely-fake-agent asked, stepping closer again, and Toshiro turned on his heel, walking towards the train station and waving for the man to follow. Rangiku was on the verge of inventing her own don't-get-groped-based marital art with her "Barmaid Ballet".

"Yeah, yeah- that Dweeb has all the luck. Come on, his house is kind of around the dogleg to the other side of that hill." Toshiro pointed across the valley.

"That's an awfully long way to walk to school for both of you." the man pouted, following him, again, slightly too close for comfort.

"Yeah, that's why I'm ditchin' it to go see The Carrion Crows play down in Inuka-I'll walk you to the station." Toshiro smirked. "There's a path along the river, but I wouldn't risk it in this weather- it's probably faster to get on the next train, take it two stops down to Hinamizawa Station, and then take the county line road back in for about four miles. It's longer as the crow flies, but they've for sure plowed that road by now."

"That's very naughty of you!" The man mock-scolded, speeding up enough that he was almost within arm's reach.

"What are you, my mom? Life's too short for Algebra!" Toshiro laughed, pivoting on his heel to face the man and take his shoulder out of grabbing range. "...probably explains why that nerd Toshiro is getting the scholarship and not me though."

"Not ditching. Lying." the man smirked down at him.

Shit. "Huh?" Toshiro glared, continuing to walk backwards towards the station and trying to keep his knees from shaking. Keep going- maybe Momo's train will get in early, or the stationmaster will hear if I start screaming.

"I have to admit, your ability to fabricate on your feet is very impressive- and bodes well for your future with our organization, Toshiro." the man leered, easily keeping up with him.

"Bruh." Toshiro rolled his eyes. "I dunno what you're on about, but I'm Jushiro. Toshiro lives way the fuck over there."

There was the briefest hesitation on the man's face. "Stop lying, there can't be that many little boys with white hair-"

"Dude, like half the people here have white hair." Toshiro gambled. Statistically speaking, the only other person this asshole had seen was Stationmatster Tanaka, who had gone prematurely silver. "The previous Daimyo was a DOG, Toshiro's probably my second or third cousin, like everybody else in this dump."

The man hesitated. It was a common enough phenomenon, and played to seireitei stereotypes about the middle districts. If he'd only seen Tanaka and only half-read the report, it'd be plausible enough-

"-I mean, if you really insist, I'm more than willing to take the scholarship money off your hands." Toshiro leered, taking the final bend before the train station. "Might be a bit of a problem when Toshiro doesn't show up at the academy bit that's not necessarily *your* problem, right?"

"What'd you say your surname was?" the man squinted.

"Ukitake." Toshiro said the first name that popped into his head. What the fuck. Do I even know an Ukitake?

The man stopped, glaring. "...Jushiro Ukitake? From the Gotei-13? Really?"

THAT'S WHOSE NAME I KNOW? FUCK. and this time, Toshiro couldn't hide the twitch of hesitation-

"GOTCHYA!" the man grinned, lunging for him-

Hands up to guard your head, drop on your side, and roll. Rangiku's Drill Voice echoed in his head as he sandbagged into the snow, the man flying over him.

Up on your fingers and toes, like you're at a track starting line. Whatever direction you're facing- Toshiro popped up again as stranger danger plunged into the snowbank behind him. He was oriented even before he was on his feet.

-RUN.

There was a POFF! as he took off sprinting, reiatsu surging in his legs. Even in his shitty straw sandals, he didn't slide, racing for the station, closing the quarter mile to the station- The man was behind him.

He was fast- too fast, even faster than Momo with her Shun'po technique.

Don't look- keep your eyes on your target. Rangiku mentally lectured him. Hopefully they're stupid and will swipe for you at a stride's length, and miss. If they're smart and close the distance to less than that, they won't miss, but you'll have an extra half-second to run and that may make all the difference.

"You're quick!" The man laughed, a stride behind Toshiro but not grabbing yet. "What, you think you'll be safe if you can get to the station? You think I won't just kill any witnesses?"

SHITSHITSHITSHITSHIT-! Toshiro could feel his heart hammering in his chest-

"DROP!" Rangiku bellowed, her voice beautifully, wonderfully booming hard enough to make his ears ring. He obeyed instantly, catching the faintest glimpse of the red-and-white academy uniforms before he was buried in the snow. The man's hand plunged in after him, grabbing him by the collar and pulling up-

"Growl, Haineko."

"DON'T BREATHE TOSHIRO!" Momo screamed just before the scalding wave of reiatsu hit, just over his head, he could swear he felt some of his hair sizzle.

"You think some glitter is going to st-ulk?" The man began to laugh but then made a strange, unpleasantly wet noise, and Toshiro was dropped to the ground. He fell on his shoulder, hard, and rolled onto his back, clutching it in pain and looked up.

It was beautiful.

He'd seen something like it before- Diamond Dust, it was called, when it got truly, deeply, bone achingly cold and the valley fog froze into glittering crystals. This was different- a concentrated stream of shimmering prismatic shards, glittering with both reflected light and the mirage caused by the heat of the attack.

Behind him the man collapsed to the ground with a wet, hacking cough that didn't let up.

"TOSHIRO!!" Momo shrieked, tackling him and pulling him up into a defensive embrace, clinging as hard to him as he clung to her. "DON'T LOOK!"

Naturally, he turned to look.

It was also beautiful. The bright red dotted and spread across the snow like an ink wash over wet paper, the way his body had crumpled to the ground, already half-buried was like the peaks of the distant mountains over the clouds.

And while the sight would haunt him for the rest of his life, there was even something poetic about the way blood streamed from the man's face lacerated beyond recognition save for his mouth, which coughed more up like a fountain with each shuddering gasp.

Rangiku stepped up to the man and with a flick of her wrist, Haineko collapsed back into a sword, growing up from the hilt like hoarfrost building on the grasses. In an elegant motion, she turned the blade so it's tip pointed to the ground, and plunged it straight into the man's skull.

"Rest In Peace." She spoke, voice soft and expression distant.

"You- You killed him!" Momo gasped. "You don't even know who-"

"There's no treating acute pulmonary hemorrhages. That was kinder." she said, voice flat as she re-sheathed Haineko. "-and he's Onmitsukido."

"The- the punishment squad?" Momo's voice quavered.

"This is a real government agent's uniform, but there's no identification patch or badge." She said, kneeling in the snow and rummaging through the dead man's overcoat. after a moment, she pulled out an envelope with the cross-shaped symbol Toshiro witnessed from Momo's homework. "-Here's his letter of marque."

"Oh, GOD-!" Momo sobbed.

"I'll make the call in about the body, but I don't think he or your grandmother should stay at the farm anymore." Rangiku sighed, and placed her hand on Toshiro's shoulder. "I'm so sorry. You shouldn't have to grow up this fast."

Toshiro looked up, bewildered, to the saddest expression he would ever see on that woman's face.

...Until three months later, when the next attempt came.

---

Five years and eight more kidnapping attempts, three extortion attempts and one particularly nasty try at an assassination, Toshiro was about to enter his final year at the academy, and witness to a bizarre conversation.

The boy was walking back from the administration offices when he walked through a noxious cloud of cigarette smoke. He peered down through the banisters of the corridor's safety railing, about to holler that this was a terrible place for a smoke- the Headmaster and Captain-General was here today, and in a foul mood according to the front desk lady.

To his vast surprise, the person lighting up was the captain-general.

"-Look, I get it." Captain Isshin Shiba sighed, his own cigarette in hand as he leaned back against the wall next the Yamamoto. "It's a bad look, putting the kid in a division headed by a scion, especially after that incident with the Tsunyashiros last year-"

"Political fucking catastrophe you mean." Yamamoto grumbled, handing the lighter back to Shiba

"-but for fuck's sake, I don't fucking count. I forsook the clan head position when I swore my oath of office, and my sister makes fireworks for a living. We don't even have land holdings anymore!" Shiba groaned.

"I know that, you know that, the shitheads over at the Ise clan and the Central 46 know that, but the truth doesn't matter- only what they can argue in court." Yamamoto continued to grumble, which Toshiro was beginning to suspect was his default tone of voice. "-Komamura has an extremely secure division, is fond of young Hitsugaya and has trained others in bankai before."

"All my love to Sajin and if that's your final decision I'll abide by it but-" Shiba started.

"-but!" Yamamoto rolled his eyes.

"Be honest on two points: first, what's the worse catastrophe: duking it out in court with the shitheads, or losing Hitsugaya?" Isshin glared. "And second- is the seventh division REALLY more secure than the academy? Where we've already had a string of incidents?"

"Losing the boy, obviously." Yamamoto glared at Isshin. "-And if you can think of a safer place for him than within arm's reach of a fellow captain, I'd love to hear it."

"There isn't one. Koma-kun would kill and die for him." Isshin agreed. "...But how often is he actually going to BE within arm's reach? The Seventh needs to be staffed at all times but Komamura gets called out to handle intractable spirits and yokai every other week! The boy would be either going with him into the unsecured ass-end of nowhere, or guarded by Iba and- again, all my love to the man- but he's not punching in the same weight class as a captain."

Yamamoto continued to glare for a moment, before turning from Isshin and taking a drag on his own cigarette.

"What's your proposal then?" the old man sighed. "You're called to the field even more than Komamura."

Isshin Shiba inhaled, steadying himself, and then laid out his Proposal:

"Matsumoto."

Yamamoto squinted at Isshin for a moment. "-The one with..." he paused, searching for a word.

"-With the huge bazongas, yes." Isshin grimaced.

"...With Haineko, and begun bankai training herself?" Yamamoto bristled.

"Exactly! She's going to be captain-class sooner than later, and devoted to the boy- she was the one that foiled the first attempt on him! ...and set the Tsunyashiro assassin on fire last year." Isshin explained. "Lieutenant Yanagisawa is retiring next year and I'm promoting her to Lieutenant in his place. Even if I'm called to the field, she'll be on-site or if we're both called out, it'll be both of us with the boy on field missions. In this case he really WOULD be within arms reach of a captain-class shinigami at all times."

Yamamoto turned to face Shiba, and Toshiro couldn't see his face.

"Don't get me wrong, I'll take all the help I can get- the more eyes on Toshiro, the fewer chances for someone to grab him. And Komamura is definitely a better teacher than I am..." Isshin winced. "But I do honestly think the Tenth Division is going to be the better place for him to grow as a shinigami. Fewer traumatic interruptions, at any rate."

Yamamoto turned to look out at the courtyard and took another drag, thinking.

"Its poetic in a way. This whole mess is Otogawa's fault in the first place, you know." Yamamoto said, voice very nearly bordering on amusement. "So it really is the tenth's responsibility to handle."

Isshin perked up.

"I'll need to talk it over with Sasakibe and a few other people to make sure the ducks are all in line, and you need to put together a real proposal with a timetable, but you may have something." Yamamoto nodded.

"Thank you sir!" Shiba saluted. "Matsumoto will be very relieved to hear it!"

"Don't act like it's a sure thing- I still need the blessing of a dozen others- least of all, young Hitsugaya himself." Yamamoto waved.

"I'd prefer to work in the tenth, if that's okay?" Toshiro called down.

"MOTHERFUCKER! HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN THERE?" Isshin barked with surprise, arms flailing dramatically. Yamamoto turned and arched an overgrown eyebrow up at Hitsugaya.

"Long enough." Toshiro shrugged. "I feel like I should be mad that I'm being micromanaged behind my back..."

"IT'S NOT LIKE THAT! Well. Kind of. I mean-" Isshin sputtered. "Look you might be the genius of your generation and the youngest shinigami to start Bankai training, but you're still a kid- You shouldn't HAVE to make these kind of calculations and maneuvers."

"Like I said, should be." Toshiro hummed. "Truth is, I'm scared. I don't sleep well most of the time. Everyone I meet is a rapid-fire game of spy vs spy bullshit."

He looked away from them as some pigeons took off from the roof, not bothering to hide the sharpness of his gaze- a flinch turned proper defensive maneuver.

"...I guess I'm glad to know someone's looking out for me, you know?" he sighed, giving them a weak half-smile.

"And you'd feel safer in Miss Matsumoto's company than someone else?" Yamamoto asked, voice even, studying him. "The other option I was considering was placing you in the fifth under captain Aizen and your adopted sister."

"Yeah, well..." Toshiro grimaced, scratching at the back of his head. "Look, Momo would fistfight God for me, and Komamura-taicho is really grounding to be around, but neither of them... It's hard to explain, but yeah, I'd feel safer with Rangiku. That's not my main concern though."

"Oh?" Yamamoto asked.

"I'm really, really glad for the Momos and Aizens and Komamuras of this world who keep it running smoothly, but Holy Moly, All Momo ever does in Rukongai Affairs is chase down other people's paperwork, and managing the intake queue of souls is worse because at least sometimes Momo gets to travel? I'd die of boredom before any assassin could get me." Hitsugaya admitted.

"Hollow patrols though? Those are interesting. You go places, you get to see the action, and yeah I know 99% of it is scheduling, but that's telling other people where to be when, not simpering after them for rice subsidy reports." Hitsugaya grinned. "I think- if Hyorinmaru and I weren't being chased all the time and I had the normal amount of pressure on me? I'd still be choosing the tenth to work in next year."

Yamamoto considered this for a moment, before slowly breaking into a wizened, almost draconic grin.

"Very well then. Keep your grades up, let the adults handle the opsec for now, and you'll serve in the tenth." Yamamoto agreed.

"Yes sir!" Hitsugaya Saluted, then jumped again as the warning bell for passing period rang out. "Uh, gotta go!"

"Good to have you on Kid!" Isshin called after him, laughing.

Statistics class was a lot easier that afternoon, with some of his fears lifted.

---

It was five years after that and pouring rain in the late autumn evening, which had cancelled Lieutenant Matsumoto's plans to go boozing with her friends and twentieth-seat Hitsugaya's plans so visit Momo had been cancelled by her- the fifth needed her to do overtime AGAIN, so they were hanging out in one of the covered corridors in the courtyard. Rangiku had badgerd Toshiro into getting her a mug of hot tea, even though it wasn't really cold.

Foul night, but a good one for sharing foul news at least. Like the first abduction attempt on Toshiro in ages.

"-Don't worry about it okay? He didn't even make it into the Seireitei." Rangiku pouted. "I wouldn't bother you with it, except that I remember what a fit you threw when you found out captain Shiba hadn't told you about that court case."

"I- who was this one even working for? You said most of the agencies and clans had given up on me after I became a seated officer." Toshiro stared. "-And how do you even know if he never got close?

"Some fort of Sword-based cult that thinks a bunch of the great swords like Hyorinmaru and Ryujin Jakka need to be taken from the impure hands of the shinigami for some greater purpose, apparently?" she scoffed, shrugging. "...can't call this one great detective work on my part though. The idiot actually walked up to me at the inn during the last SWA Field Trip and offered me money for a chance to 'just talk' to you."

"Oh my goooooood..." Toshiro groaned. "Wait. How much?"

"He did offer me a whopping five thousand kan for an audience alone with you." She nodded, mocking a somber attitude. "-But my loyalty to you is unwavering, and though it pained me, I resisted the temptation of such a great windfall!"

"...five grand? That's barely a week's worth of groceries here?" Hitsugaya glared with disgust.

"I know right? Like I know I look like a whore but I'm starting to worry I look CHEAP!" Rangiku huffed. "Anyway Soi Fon had him hauled off for trial as soon as I stopped laughing so hard I couldn't speak."

"Oh, he got off easy then!" Toshiro sighed with genuine relief.

"Yeah, apparently he didn't see me at first and almost made that offer to Unohana-sama instead." Rangiku shuddered.

"Oof." Toshiro grimaced, trying to not imagine the awful fate the man might have befallen at the chief medic's hands. "Still. Thanks. It's good to know that no news really is good news." he sighed, leaning back against the wall where they were sitting on the floor and sighing.

"So, you're not going to worry, right?" She demanded, ruffling his hair affectionately.

"Augh! No!" He yelped, swatting her hand away. "I won't, okay? You don't need to baby me all the time."

"I really do." She smiled, but there was a sadness in her eyes.

Not quite sure what to say, he turned his face away and they sat together in silence for a time, listening to the rain.

"...why do you 'have to' baby me?" he eventually asked, not quite turning to face Rangiku, but watched her out of the corner of his eye. "Were you like, given a secret assignment or something?"

"Hm? No, nothing like that." She shrugged, but didn't immediately answer his question.

"...Have you ever owed someone a favor you can't pay back?" She spoke up after taking a long drink of tea.

"...Sorta." Toshiro admitted. "Kinda sucks."

"Yeah. Kinda does." She nodded, gaze fixed on some distant point, unable to face him.

"I... I wasn't a lot older than you were when I came into my powers and started to be able to hear Haineko. You might have outstripped me already but I'm no slouch, okay? And in the upper districts, you kill ONE hollow and the world and his wife is hammering down your door for help. And I remember what it's like, feeling like you're responsible for everything, that you don't have the option to say no, or someone will die." She sighed. "-That was bad enough, but then word really got around and. You remember the Tsunyashiro attempt?"

"Hard to forget seeing a man engulfed in flames." Toshiro winced. "Not that it's my place to criticize the captain-general, but maybe you could work on an ability for Haineko that isn't quite so catastrophic BEFORE you work on Bankai?"

"I swear, we're not usually that, um, Volatile. But that time I was... angry doesn't cover it. Livid." Rangiku laughed darkly. "You know why he wanted you, right?"

"He was going to forcibly adopt me into the clan to advance their reputation, right?" Toshiro blinked, confused.

Rangiku's pained grimace struck him harder than an actual backhand would have.

"...No. He was intending to forcibly MARRY you into the clan, to advance their bloodline." she sighed.

"He'd be waiting a while for an heir." Toshiro scoffed.

"No. They have. Ways. of achieving their ends." she groaned, rubbing her face. "I won't go into the specifics, but the fact that you're a kid would not have stopped them from torturing an heir out of you."

"...oh." Toshiro mumbled.

They listened to the rain for a while longer. Rangiku didn't remove the hand over her eyes, mug of tea growing cold on the floor in from of her.

"You know that because... Because you were a kid too." Toshiro realized with a cold horror creeping up his spine.

Rangiku nodded, teeth bared in something between a sob and a snarl.

He stared for a moment, before shuffling closer to her and leaning into her side. She wrapped her free arm around him, scooping him up into a hug and burying her face in his shoulder.

"It's okay! I'm okay!" he tried to reassure her, and she sobbed, trying to muffle the sound with his body.

"I'm sorry!" She gasped. "I'm sorry world is still like this! I'm sorry that you need to- to- that we haven't made anything better!"

"It IS better!" He snapped, shaking her shoulders. "You did a really good job! I'm untouchable because of you!"

Rangiku sobbed again, but hugged him tighter. "You get it though? Why I have to baby you? I'll never be able to pay it back, but I can at least pay it forward?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I get it." he mumbled. "...thank you, Rangiku."

He let her cry into his shoulder for a few more minutes, before she straightened up with a loud and unladylike sniffle, wiping her nose on her sleeve before Toshiro groaned, pulling out a handkerchief.

"Thangs." She mumbled, face flushed and snotty from genuine catharsis. "You're a good kid."

"You're a good guardian?" he tried and she coughed a wet laugh into the cloth, rubbing her face until she could speak again.

"Right! That was too much emotional vulnerability for one day!" She declared, sitting up. "Let's go find Captain Shiba and bully him into getting us dessert somewhere!"

"There's seasonal chestnut manju and persimmon yokan at the tea shop down the road." Toshiro offered, letting her use him as a crutch to get up off the floor.

"IDEAL." She grinned, back to her usual good humor. "Oh CAAAAAAAPTAIN~!" she called.

---

Twenty-six years after that, Rangiku stood over Ichimaru Gin, Haineko's point at his throat, whole body shaking with rage but her hands steady as a rock.

"Come on Ran-Chan, you're not really angry. You'd kill me if you were really angry." Gin smiled fondly up at her.

"The only reason you're alive is that killing you would be letting you get off easy." she snarled.

"You have no idea..." he chuckled and she pressed against his reiatsu barrier, blade nicking his skin and drawing a trickle of blood. "So, this is how it ends? After all we've been through together-"

"I don't owe you." she growled, pressing the point into his neck a bit more.

"Really? That's all our friendship was to you? Debt?" Gin pouted.

"That's all it ever was, me constantly feeling like I owed you happiness for what you did for me." her voice was barely above a whisper, pale silver-blue eyes gone white with rage. "-And the whole time, you were running up the tab from hell behind my back."

"-and who did you pay the debt forward onto, huh?" Gin wriggled, starting to worry that he wasn't gong to win this argument. "Who owes you the way you owe me?"

"Nobody. I never owed you, and he doesn't owe me. It's just being human." she whispered,leaning her whole weight into the blade. "Something I think you don't know a damn thing about."

Gin opened his mouth the protest, inhaling deeply, the opportunity she'd been waiting for-

"GROWL, HAINEKO."

---

so Rangiku's Bankai is named Haineko Asama, and since Haineko means "ash cat" and Mount Asama is a volcano in Japan, does that mean her Bankai can create a pyroclastic cloud? Or does "asama" mean something else in this context?

Got in in one!

Haineko: Asama is a Bankai that creates a Vesuvius-like eruption of 1,000 °C (1,800 °F) Hot Gases and Burning Tephra and a REALLY FUCKING LOUD KABOOM. The Pyroclastic cloud can travel up to 430mph and destroys everything in it's path- opponents closer to the epicenter are the luckier ones- the sheer kinetic energy for the explosion incinerates them immediately. Those farther away may find their bodies punctured with molten shrapnel, crushed by flying boulders, or suffocated and cooked alive as they are encased in ash like the victims of Vesuvius.

It's not an easy Bankai- the energy output is catastrophic, and the longer the 'Eruption' goes on, the greater Rangiku's risk of falling into a coma or straight-up dying from expending too much energy increases. It's also not an easy Bankai to train- For a while, Rangiku wasn't 'wielding' her Bankai so much as just 'releasing' it and learning about the damage when she woke up a week later.

In the end, the ONLY person who could help her with training Asama was Yamamoto himself, because of his Literally Divine resistance to fire, and a millennium's worth of practice at dodging to deal with the rocks and ash. He had to take her out to the ass-end of nowhere in South 80 to find somewhere deserted enough to practice without mass causalities, and the practice STILL effected the weather in the rest of Soul Society. He still spent almost a month in the 4th after they returned from The Year With No Summer, getting the burns, lung damage and broken bones treated, while he waited for his pupil to wake up again.

Yamamoto is now Very Fond of Rangiku because she's the first person in a LONG time that proved to be an actual challenge for him as an opponent, was an interesting student to teach and the first person to even begin to comprehend the problems he faces as an Avatar of Destruction.

Like most Volcanoes, Rangiku spends a lot of time sleeping. Nobody who knows what she's capable of when she 'awakens' complains about her nap schedule.

[twist3dserenity]

is it bad that I already planned my demise?

[protector-utahime-miku]

59 56 79 everyone!

//lol

TW: IMPLIED BULLYING AND SA, AND (STATED) DEATH

(plain text: trigger warning: implied bullying and sexual assault, and (stated) death. end plain text)

and also probably mischaracterization of kitsune because of reasons in the tags.

59. how different are you from the little kid you used to be?

🎶: quite a bit!! i've seen a lot more stuff in the past two millenniums... but i still love to sing! ♪( ´▽｀)

🎀: aha... ummm... i'm much cuter now! and... i'm... not the same happy kid i was before.

🤖: similarly, i'm happier about myself... in some aspects. however...

⭐️: ... very different... aha, d- don't worry about it though! i'm... a star! yeah! that's all that changed...

🦊: i'm pretty similar! but also not the same, aha! it hasn't been the same since...

56. when's a time when you felt real genuine fear?

🎶: it was looong ago, before i became who i am now. when i slipped into that lake and almost drowned... another time is when i saw... what was beyond reality. it's dark and lonely...

🎀: ... it was... when they... m- my middle school classmates, that is... they... th- ... i can't say it. i just can't. s- sorry, aha...

🤖: ... ah... i... i'm not sure i could answer this one, even if i wanted to... i- i was just trying to make friends...

⭐️: e- eh?! what k-kind of a question is that?! a- a true star ne- never feels fear!!! ... i... but i can't be a star. not anymore. after that..?! how... could i be one?

🦊: ... when i learned about about what she had. i was scared she'd die... and... i was right. obasan... i miss you...

79. what's something you wish you could change about yourself?

🎶: i mean, if i want to do that, i can just change at will! in fact... hehe, most of the time i'm not even in my original form, but instead a slightly modified version! guess what i changed! (⌒▽⌒)

🎀: uh... i wish i could change my body, like utahime can. unfortunately she can't give me that ability now. i can turn into animals, though! [briefly, they turn into a pink ragdoll cat. and after letting out a small meow, they turn back.] ehe, see? but... i also wish i could get rid of... the lingering feeling of their touch...

🤖: it's the same answer as kokoro, that being my body. although i can turn into animals, just like they can~! sometimes, we spend time meowing at each other as cats, fufu~ it's quite fun! although... getting rid of the feelings of their hands... does sound nice...

⭐️: SO many things!! my hair is too long!! but i'm a girl, so- I- I MEAN- NOT THAT GIRLS CAN'T HAVE SHORT HAIR, OF COURSE!!!!! it's just... aha... it's hard to explain!! and my chest is too big, too!! i hate it!! but again, i'm a girl! and just my body in general!! and... a.. aha... i... i want... to be innocent again i mean- what? i said nothing...!!!

🦊: there's only really one thing i want to change! but... it is kind of personal information. and besides, i've learned to live with it!

[yanderenightmare]

Gojo Satoru

TW: implied noncon, yandere

fem reader

The way Gojo Senpai is so obnoxious, he doesn’t understand his flirting is making you uncomfortable…

He seriously thinks he’s making you fall head over heels in love with him even when you give him nothing in return to make him think that. He just thinks you’re embarrassed and nervous, flustered by his attention, and that’s the reason you divert your gaze and bite your lip when he has you against the lockers, leaning on his hand with his shades gliding low on his nose—telling you that you have no shot becoming a sorcerer, but that you look too cute in the uniform not to give it your best try. 

“Don’t worry, just say my name, and I’ll come save you,” he’ll say. “You can be my personal assistant supervisor instead.” 

His game isn’t anything to brag about. It's more in line with bullying than flirting, but you pick up on the suggestiveness. That heated saccharine look within his blue eyes can only mean one thing if the way he plays with your hair isn’t enough of a hint already.

But his words are nothing short of derogatory, and all in all, he simply makes you feel gross—a sentiment you thought you put across, but it seems that having six eyes only makes you blind.

It takes Shoko telling him to leave the poor Kohai alone for him to finally understand that you don’t like him. And then he’s just confused and embarrassed.

And a tinge bit irritated.

Gojo knows for a fact he could make any girl want him. Even those who seem to hate him would melt if he gave them the same attention he’s been giving you. Any girl. He could have any girl, but he chose you. And you reject him?

No. He can’t accept that.

“Most girls would be grateful for my attention,” He states plainly after having tracked you down.

Your head snapped, jolting. “Gojo Senpai—” You dropped the mop in your hands with a clatter, having been deep in your own thoughts on classroom cleaning duty. You sighed as the scare settled, giving a breathy laugh, “You scared me—”

“Is that it?” he interrupted. “I scare you?”

You quirked a brow with a tilt of your head. “What?”

“Do I scare you?” he repeated, louder, posted on the threshold in a stance you’d never seen him in—stiff and squared, not his usual lazy laidbackness.

Confused, your eyes looked around as if searching for clues but came up emptyhanded, “Uhm, I don’t understand—”

“It’s a simple question,” he said, cutting you off again, this time with a step into the classroom. He talked slowly, cradling the next words, “Are you scared of me?”

Where it all came from, you hadn’t a clue. But then again, Gojo Senpai has always been rather strange. 

Were you scared of him? It’s not really something you’ve ever thought about. Sure, if you were to go one versus one with him, you’d probably piss yourself. But in a regular setting, you just found him to be as grating as the next person.

“I don’t think so?” you end up answering.

“Good. So what is it then?” His shades were low enough for his stare to skim over. Brighter than clear skies, and yet, somehow, so dark. “Why don’t you like me.”

Oh, so he’s figured it out on his own then. It’s about time. And thank fuck for it—saves you the trouble of breaking it to him yourself. Though you were still left with the unfair task of telling him why.

“Honestly, Gojo Senpai, I’m not, or well… you’re just not my type.”

Stick to the basics, is what you told yourself. There’s no need to drag this out.

“Yeah, I figured. I’m asking why,” he countered, in complete disagreement with your thought.

Still, you wanted to fight for it. “Does it really matter?”

“Yes.”

This conversation was the last thing you wanted, but it seemed the white-haired prodigy wouldn’t leave without having it.

“Well…” you started, still pondering. Maybe he’d appreciate the honesty? He’s a rather straightforward guy himself. “I mean, there’s no way you don’t already know this, but—” You picked up the broom again mid-sentence. “You’re really obnoxious.”

He took a small second before he scoffed, “So? No one else cares.”

It reminded you of arguing with someone half your age—the petty anger in an ill-thought-through comment slung at you as if it carried all the weight in the world. But what everyone else thought of him hadn’t anything to do with you—and even so, out of the people on campus, you’re certain you’re not the only one who finds his attitude unpleasant—they just don’t tell it to his face. 

You had half the mind to tell him to go get a grip, but he was still your Senpai.

“Good for you, I guess?” You weren’t really looking to fight with him, after all. “So you can flirt with literally anyone else then,” you dismiss him and go back to finish cleaning the classroom—glad to have put it all behind you. You were starting to fear he’d never leave you alone.

There’s a woosh, then the hard thunk of your back hitting the wall. Both your upper arms are gripped tight, pinned. When you open your eyes again after adjusting to the impact, you look straight up into the full view of two crisp comet blues.

“You’re mighty rude for a Kohai. You know that?”

Your head stings. You blink crookedly.

“Senpai—”

“Maybe I’ve misjudged you. D’you have anythin’ for show to back that attitude up?” It’s eerie how he says it in the same flirty fashion he would otherwise—even the look in his eyes are the same. But his grip tightens.

“I don’t want to fight—”

“No?” he cuts you off with a pout. “I could've sworn you were asking for it—all but begging for it a second ago.”

You whimper, cowering at the sudden bite in his voice.

“What’s the matter, huh? I thought you said you weren’t scared?”

Your voice comes out weak, “Please, Gojo Senpai, I—”

“Please?” he questions brightly, eyes stark and burning like a stovetop. “Yeah, that’s got a nicer ring to it—suits you better.” The smile that splits across his face is nothing short of unhinged. “But it’s not enough for me to let your disrespect slide.” He licks his lips, and a chill runs up your spine, feeling like caught prey. “Lucky you, I know exactly what price to put on it.”

His mouth devour yours the same way—pouncing like a beast would, with teeth more than lips, then a tongue. You whine as you twist—it’s more instinctive than deliberate when your knee shoots up into the unprotected space between his legs—right into that thing that was rubbing and rutting against you.

You make a run for it as he staggers back with a hiss, but you don’t make it farther than three measly steps before you’re bent over the closest desk.

His fist wrangles your hair, using it to shove you face-down against the wood—the weight of his body on top of your back with his voice raspy against your ear. “We could’ve left this with a kiss, but I don’t think it’s gonna be that easy now.”

Tears spill hotly in a panic, but no matter how much strength you put into lifting yourself up, you remain down. Sobbing, “Let go—help—”

He snickers with a hand under your skirt, spidering delicately up your thigh. “Who’re you callin’ for help, hm? I’m already here.”

♡ GOJO SATORU masterlist ♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist

[lena1980love]

the worst feeling ever is making the ppl u love worried about you especially when the reason u haven't killed urself is because u don't want to hurt them. i don't want to be the reason of my loved ones pain but now i am the reason why they r worried.

the urge to fuck myself up is too much rn but the thought of them finding out is scary

living is so fucking exhausting

having to stay alive for others is the worst felling ever cause you also feel guilty when they worry about you.

and at one point you start to think that you just want to stop existing

to put an end to your agonies

but the only thing you can do is look at the wall and fantasize about your death

because let's face it

It's the only thing that makes you feel something.

[puppy-the-mask]

Fell and Ave things- Tw; Dark Humor, body horror, implied organ removal/human experimentation. Making light of a fucked up dynamic

Fell: good morni- why are you bleeding? I haven’t even done anything yet

Ave: hm? Oh yeah that. It’s a human thing, we bleed sometimes

Fell: well stop it

Ave: I can’t- it’s against my will. my body does it on its own like every month or so.

Fell: gross, why?

Ave: I dunno, you’re the one with the human anatomy book. You tell me.

~~~~~

Fell: It says here that it’ll stop when you’re 50

Ave: dang

Fell: …how old are you?

Ave: I dunno, how long has it been since you kidnapped me?

Fell: a couple months

Ave: oh, then I’m 16 now. Happy birthday to me

Fell: hmmmm… happy birthday indeed

Ave: 6-6’’’

~~~~~~~

Ave: … what did you do this time

Fell: birthday present

Ave: I’ve woken up strapped to the table, theres nothing you could’ve done while I was out that I would ever consider a present. Did you poke around my organs again?

Fell- pushing a biohazard bin behind him: technically no…

Ave: what the actual fuck is wrong with you

Fell: I’m the only one that gets to make you bleed @_@🔪

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - unhealthy relationships, obsessive behavior, somnophilia, implied non/con, mentions of knots.

Puppy!Yuuta, who catches your eye the second you step into the shelter, despite the fact that he’s not at all what you were looking for. You need a service animal, and as cruel as it feels to say, hybrids of undeterminable origins with less-than-stellar past homes aren’t known to be very consistent, let alone trainable when it comes to such a high-stakes job. You were supposed to meet a pure-bred, highly recommended husky hybrid whose previous owner was no longer able to take care of him, but it was over for you as soon as you saw those big, dark, watery eyes – nearly hidden entirely by overgrown hair and jet-black ears that seemed to droop even lower whenever you threatened to look away from him. You’re already a lost cause by the time you ask a shelter employee for his name, and the paperwork’s signed within the hour. He leaves with you the same day, eyes on the ground and tail wagging a mile a minute.

Puppy!Yuuta, who was always meant to be someone's spoiled pet. He's shy, at first, scared to talk too loudly or cling too tightly or do anything that'll get him sent back to the shelter (no matter how clear you make it that that's a non-option), but it only takes him a few days to warm up to you, a couple weeks to come out of his shell, just under a month to start sleeping in your bed and trailing you around your apartment. He almost trips over himself when you ask if he'd like to wear a collar, and soon enough, he's more akin to a second-shadow than a dog. He does have some aggression issues, particularly when it comes to human men, but he's an angel with other hybrids, and when he bows his head and pouts, you really can't help but forgive him. With a life like the one he must've had, you can't really blame him for being so quick to bear his teeth.

Puppy!Yuuta, who's more than ecstatic when you mention still needing a service animal. He might not be qualified on paper, sure, but he's already constantly at your side, constantly worrying about you - it'd just feel wrong to go out and get another hybrid for a job Yuuta is more than capable of. He says he likes that idea of being able to take care of you, too - like you take care of him. You want to ask him not to be so sappy, to think of a slightly less sentimental way to say it, but when he's so happy and so, so proud of himself, it's hard to be even that strict.

Puppy!Yuuta, who cums untouched the first time you comb your fingers through his hair. You don't seem to notice, and he does his best to hide his face in your lap, to bite back the little, pathetic whimpers that crawl up his throat whenever you scratch at the base of his ears. He doesn't want to scare you, to be so needy so suddenly when you've been so kind.

Puppy!Yuuta, whose one and only flaw is that he can't seem to stop riffling through your dirty laundry. He can't be left alone for more than an hour without stealing one of your oldest, most threadbare shirts or worse, claiming a pair of your underwear as his newest chew-toy. You really should chastise him for it, but it's such an awkward thing to talk about, and he has such a sweet face - it's hard to believe he could ever do anything deliberately wrong. You've resigned yourself to just trying to limit the damage and salvage the less damaged items, even if those mysterious stains are a little hard to get out.

Puppy!Yuuta, who wishes he didn't have such a big, bulky knot. It's too thick and too heavy and seems to swell up whenever he gets even a little hard. If he didn't have a knot, he'd be able to actually thrust into you, rather than just fucking his fist over your sleeping body and imagining how tight you'd be, how pretty you'd look, how nice it would be to make you feel as warm and as soft as he feels because of you. He does what he can with his tongue, but you don't seem to like waking up with his saliva soaking everything between your thighs, and he always gets too excited when he tastes you. If he has to rut against your thigh that desperately again, he's afraid you might wake up and scold him.

Puppy!Yuuta, who can't wait until he works up the courage to mate with you properly. He knows it's still too soon, that it'd scare you to do it so abruptly, that he doesn't deserve it yet, but soon, he'll be able to to step up and take care of you as something more than just a pet. He's not there right now, but one day, he just knows he'll be the perfect mate for you <3

[casuallyanidiot]

Yantober Day 1

Love at First Sight [Yandere Forest God x Gn.Reader]

Using @ozzgin's Yantober prompt list!

Tipjar :)

Tw! Dead dove do not Eat! MDNI, NSFW Noncon, oral sex (recieving), Yandere, Implied kidnapping

You go into a newly acquired piece of land to survey it for your job when things start to become strange...

1.7k words

There was something wrong with these woods.

You were used to seeing some kind of anomaly in your field studies. Maybe the deer or rabbit population was too high, or you would find that an invasive species was beating out a more native one. It was never crazy though outside of the normal, exhausting sludge that was conservationist work. You were sent out by the local government to different wildlife reserves, or areas that were undeveloped to do some basic surveying and then come back and give them updates.

This forest wasn’t any different, initially. It was a newer addition to your city’s ownership, sold to them by a smaller, dying rural town. There were talks of what to do with the land, but first you had to be sent down to make sure they wouldn’t violate any regulations or kill off an endangered species. Not that they really cared. After all, your job was to get professionally ignored.

So you went in, camping gear and your truck in tow, and you began to explore.

Again, it was normal at first.

It was an average area. Normal flora and fauna. In fact, it was kinda impressive how well the area seemed to be doing. There was hardly any trash, no signs of destruction, no weird occurrences. It made you feel kinda happy. You went about your days just noting stuff down, humming happily all the while.

It was fine until the staring started. It began with a squirrel or two. They would just sit there, unmoving, unblinking, always just in the corner of your vision. Odd, sure, but maybe they were trying to see if they could get some of your food you always carried with you? Days passed and it escalated to a couple of birds added in, perched on branches and hidden by thick leaves. Then some bunnies, not even eating or twitching their little noses.

You thought you were going crazy, but nothing could prepare you for when the bigger animals started doing the same damn thing. The deer were one thing, already unsettling and strange, but having a bear watch you, still as a stagnate pond, was terrifying. You weren’t sure what to make of it. The only time the oddly behaving creatures would move were when either you’d get too close (in which they’d back off) or when you explored the forest (in which they’d follow after you in some sort of procession). 

You noted it all down of course. You assumed that it might be an illness, or perhaps they were used to humans? But they didn’t look unwell, and from what you understood, this place was rather isolated, so there was no reason for them to approach you this often. You felt a sense of growing unease with each passing day, with each filled page in your field journal. This was getting too weird. The thing of note was obviously the staring, but you figured that it was definitely not in your area of expertise.

That’s why, after weeks of camping and surveying the woods, you decided to get the fuck out of there. 

You packed up your campsite with little fanfare, hundreds of tiny gazes trained on your back. You glanced around as you loaded up a final few things into your truck, and you had only just realized then how many of them there were. The fauna crowded around the clearing you had settled in like a bated audience, and you shuddered. If you weren’t getting paid so much to stake it out here, then you probably would’ve hightailed it much faster.

“Okay… got my keys…” You mumbled and shuffled through your pockets quickly to make sure you weren’t leaving anything behind. “Should be good to go now.”

“Go where?”

You spun around, nearly jumping out of your skin in shock. Behind you stood a man, imposingly tall with a stony expression and dark skin. You pressed your hand to your now rapidly beating chest as he towered over you with a tilted head.

“Where are you going?” He repeated, and he prompted out a hand that was seemingly carved out of a deep bark to beckon your words out. You were shocked. His hair was seemingly made of vines connecting him to the earthen ground and shifting in unnatural ways.

“Uhhhh, back home?” Was all you could say in a slightly unsure voice. Seriously, you were at a loss for words. You had never seen such a person, and through your stuttering mind, you were able to guess that whatever was wrong with this place was probably his doing.

The man’s eyebrows (which looked as if they had been carved into his face) furrowed slightly. He placed a hand on his chin in contemplation, his dark hollow eyes and pure emerald pupils narrowing slightly.

“But,” he started, and it felt like his words rung over a hundred times in your head, shaking and lumbering through every node of your soft brain tissue. “But I thought you had come to live here,” He mumbled and reached forward to touch your arm. You flinched back on instinct, and his lips pressed into a thin line.

“Flower…” The man chided softly. His seeking fingers were more insistent this time, and you could not move back quickly enough before he was snatching you up and drawing you close. You cried out softly as you fell against his chest. He wrapped his arms around you and sighed, shivering in contentment. You cringed at the feeling of shifting, wriggling grass and vines.

“Flower, surely you must know that you cannot go,” He sighed while he ran his hands over your scalp. You blinked. Flower… why was he calling you this? You pushed him back slightly, just to look him in the face.

“I’m sorry but, who are you?” You asked. It wasn’t just a name thing, but rather to say ‘who do you think you are?’. He hummed in response, and you can see him taking in every little thing about you. Suddenly, he laughed.

“Don’t you think it’s cruel, my flower? You ask my name but I know naught of yours,” He said with affection blooming between every roll of his tongue. Your vision spun, and suddenly your back was pressed against soft earth and damp grass. You gasped and cried out. Before you could even protest, your shirt was ripped open and your pants were pulled down.

“What silly things you wear,” He chuckled and placed kisses along your neck. The feeling was strange, slightly rigid. “Is this what mortals wear nowadays? So revealing,” He murmured and toyed with the shredded fabric. Your eyes were wide, and you tried to wriggle out from under him. He merely grabbed you by the hips and pulled you back, the vines from his hair enveloping you and wrapping around your limbs. You squeaked as your thighs were pulled apart by the coiling greenery, digging into the softer flesh. 

“I must admit,” the man moved back, letting his breath ghost over your parted legs and crotch. “I was rather taken with you from the moment you arrived.” 

The strange man held you down as he buried his rugged face and strangely glowing tongue in your entrance while stroking your privates with grooved, deft fingers. Your back arched, and you desperately tried to break free. Your frantic pleas for release were soon broken by the sounds of your breathy moans, and your voice rang like a bell in the clearing. Each lap of his rugged tongue sent shivers down your spine and had your toes curling. 

“W-what? Stop that! Let me go!”

Your keys were discarded in the grass, and those fucking animals just kept staring. You could see your writhing, pinned form in the reflection of hundreds of deep, black unblinking pools. You felt sick to your stomach, and no amount of fluttering arousal could disguise that.

“It’s been so long since I’ve had company, and you come here looking like that. No, you’re going nowhere, flower.”

It felt like years were passing as he kissed, licked and held your hips in place with a tender firmness that would have you blushing if he was your lover. Or at least a lover you chose. Your begging was drowned out by your own frantic heartbeat and the humiliating squelch of your own pleasure. Never had you faced such cruel adoration, such gentle violence. Any place that had previously shown off exposed skin was kissed in a brief moment of reprieve from the onslaught. Your arms, your calves, your collar bones which had only just peaked out from under the neckline of your shirt.

Your truck, covered in mud, but still rather nice nonetheless, slowly began to be pulled into the ground by the flowers and flora rapidly growing on the vehicle. Your things! You tried to reach for them, but a hand of his reached up and entwined his fingers with yours.

Your screams of both pleasure and fear were carried by the wind, weaving through trees and filling the forest as naturally as the rustle of leaves. He continued to eat you out, and it was like you could feel his words in your head simply from the graze of his palm. It was overwhelming, and with each wave of heat, each tremble of your body, you sank further and further into his hold.

“Oh, look at you, my flower,” He pressed reverent kisses to your naval. “How you shall bloom in my care.”

More pressure, more bitter white flashes dancing across your vision as you keened and cried. Branches rustled around your face, and you wondered when they had even gotten there in the first place. They sprouted from his back and shielded you from the sun and sky. 

“-made for me-”

“-love…”

“Flower…my flower…”

You caught bits and pieces of his voice, nestled in your ears like sticky pollen. It was too much, and all at once you had come undone, spilling over his face with an anguished, strangled noise.

It was hard to think after that. All you could feel, all you could know was that you were being dragged back into those deep, dark, very wrong woods with a loving smile slotted against your lips and flowers in your hair.

[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

[faesdreaming]

Yandere Fae - Temptation

he just wants to know your name, that’s all. he promises.

tw: yandere themes, possessive behaviour, reader is lowkey okay with it, implied murder, unhealthy relationships, stockholm syndrome (?)

“Come now, darling,” he croons, so very sweetly, “it’s just a name. I promise I won’t tell.”

He leans his cheek against your arm, gazing up pleadingly. You sigh as you feel your resolve waver. He— the fae— Lucian, he says his name is but you don’t know if he’s telling the truth.

Fae can’t lie, you’d been told as a child. The people of your town nary spoke of the faekind, save in warning tales. They’d told of weaknesses, of iron and salt. Lies. Falsehoods born from ignorance. Fae could lie, could weave truths of honeyed poison sweeter than any ambrosia. One thing you did know was not to tell one your name. Your grandmother had told you. She was the same woman who warned you of the dangers, who thwarted the ignorant claims of the fellow villagers

“Please.” Lucian all but whines. You can’t help but giggle in amusement. For such a powerful creature, he’s acting as though he were a puppy. “It’s just a name.”

But it’s not just a name. Name’s are powerful. They hold history, stories, one’s very being. So, you’ll refuse him once more. “I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Lucian tilts his head. The slightest hint of venom tinges his tone. His slit pupils are dilated double their size, like a predator catching sight of its prey. “Tell me your name.”

Lucian’s been persistent in his efforts. Ever since you moved into a cottage deep within the forest. Unable to bear the repetitive, noisy life of your village, you left. He’s been following you ever since you moved in. He’s bound, tethered to the place. To the land. Through magical means you don’t understand. Lucian adores pestering you with questions, and inane conversation, that you’ve grown to enjoy. But above all else, he seems determined to get your name. Not that you plan to give it to him.

He makes a frustrated noise, a pout forming on his lips. “You’re so stubborn.” Lucian complains. “Just tell me. I won’t tell anyone else, I swear.”

Liar, you think fondly, It’s cute, really, the effort he puts in.

Biting your lip, you briefly contemplate your sanity. Should others find themselves in this situation they wouldn’t be as calm. They’d panic. You should panic. You should probably run for the hills. For it’s not his status as a fae that forebodes danger. He’s— Lucian is complex.

The good-natured mask he wears is just that. A mask. One he wears for you. Your relationship with Lucian is multilayered. Surface level, it is a give and take. What he gives and what you take remains unclear. Surface level, you’re companions. But that implies trust. You don’t trust him. You’re smart enough not too.

“I’m heading out to town.” You tell him. “To the market.”

Lucian huffs. He storms off like a petulant child, intelligibly whining and a pout on his face. You roll your eyes. Gathering a basket and pulling on a cloak, you step out of the cottage. The way to town isn’t marked by a path. You memorize trees and large stones. Landmarks. You trek through the woodlands, thoughts of Lucian occupying your mind.

You hold a certain fondness for him. For the little game you two indulge in. It’s an odd affection, a tired, old one. He makes you cook for him, bemoaning your atrocious mortal cuisine as he eats all of it. He follows you around the cottage with seemingly no concept of personal space. He lingers around you, as if he were a ghost and you his haunt. He entertains you. With tall-tales spun from silk. He offers you gifts in the form of odd trinkets, flowers, nuts, sometimes gems.

Lucian perplexes you. Because despite the casualness of your relationship, you’d be a fool to not be aware of the power imbalance in between the two of you. There’s something dark, dangerous. An ancient, primal magic tethering him to the cottage. To you.

You shake off your wonderings as you reach a clearing. Down, to the left is a quaint little town. It’s sparsely populated, everyone knows everyone, at least everyone who inhabits the area. Locals are wary of travellers, yet they are not so foolish to deny potential patrons business. Their market, tavern, and inn are what’s to be expected of a place such as this. It’s sufficient for your needs, though. Far be it for you to complain.

You stop by the market, examining items being sold by the vendors. As you take an apple in hand, trying to determine whether the produce is worth it’s price, a hand reaches by you. Curiously, you sneak a glance to the person it belongs to.

You’re met with the appearance of a rugged, rogue. Weary from his travels, if you’d have to guess. He gives you half-grin half-smirk that makes your insides flutter. Normally, you’d offer him a flirtatious smile. Perhaps he’d ask to take you out for the night, to the tavern. You’d drink sweet mead and suggest stopping at an inn for the night. Spend it together. Alas, the sanctity of your normal ended upon your meeting with Lucian.

“‘Scuse me, love,” he says, voice a rough timbre. It’s so different than Lucian’s smooth, honeyed lilt. You like it. “You ain’t from ‘round here, eh?”

You nimbly step aside, appreciating the view. You should leave, you know the consequences if you stay. “No.” You tell him. “I live a little ways away.”

He smiles at that. A small little grin that’s almost a smirk. What a dangerous thing, he is. He starts chatting you up. You know what he wants from you and you’re quite certain he knows what he wants from you. You should be beyond such inhibitions— but it’s been so very long since you’d indulged in a bit of fun. So you let him take you back to his inn, slip something in his beer so when he’s done and your sated, he’ll slip right off. The moment he does, you slink away, trekking through the woods back home. Most people wouldn’t, scared of the dangers lurking. But the forest knows that the true danger resides within your home, guaranteeing your safety.

The moment you make it back, Lucian appears, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Entertaining night?”

His tone is frigid and cold, almost the same as his usual indifference. But you know him better than that. “Very.” You hum. “And yet, I’m here with you.”

“Yet you’re here with me.” He parrots. The shift in his demeanour is almost imperceptible, a change so subtle it appears meaningless. You watch as he slinks away, the satisfaction of his tone lingering throughout your mind. The affirmation, to both him and you, that you were here. That you came crawling back to him. That the pull, the tether he held on your being remained tight as ever.

That you were—

Not his. You were still your own being. You let out a shaky sigh and head up to bed. You’ve had too much to drink, you tell yourself. The next morn, when you awaken, groggily blinking, something immediately feels off. After living like this— after living with him— for so long, you’ve come to understand to trust your intuition while ignoring the warning bells ringing in your head.

You head down the stairs. Your body is heavy from your hang over. It dulls your senses. You know you need to be on guard, lest Lucian have his way. Speak of the devil, you muse, as he leans on the kitchen island smugly. “Rough night?”

“Don’t.” You warn, grabbing a pot and filling it with water to boil. Lician laughs. His laughter sharp and smooth. “Forgive me, lovely.” He croons. “I do not intend to rouse that temper of yours.”

You eye him suspiciously. Of course, you’re always suspicious in regards to him, but this behaviour is odd. Odder than usual. He usually demands you cook for him, asks for your name, then huffs when you rebuff him. It’s routine and Lucian isn’t one for breaking routine. You rake over his handsome, pointed features. He sports an usual grin. Self-satisfied and almost victorious. Then, you spot a crimson splatter along the underside of his throat.

“Is there something wrong, lovely?” He inquires, tilting his head almost as if to show you the blood stained on his neck.

Don’t give in. Don’t pay attention to it. You learned early on giving in only worsens his behaviour. “No.” You answer firmly. You avoid his question, evasive and ignorant. Your ignorance serves as a shield. “I ought to make something, barely ate yesterday.”

Lucian’s eyes flicker with both annoyance and pleasure. “Make me some too.” He orders, before sauntering off.

It sends a shiver down your spine, your compliance. Barely able to deny him, yet unable to give into him. It irks him. It also pleases him. It’s a game between the two of you. One neither of you can quit. You tow the line each time, out of selfishness. The desire to be free. To be as it was. It ends in his possessive fits, with blood shed, staining your hands crimson. Yet you continue. His attention is intoxicating. As addicting as mead. It drives you mad, tantalizes you, taunts you. But you don’t give in fully. Can’t. At least, not yet.

“Come now, lovely. I know you wish to fall into temptation with me.”