#wind piercer of darkness

[itsraining-honey]

“Darkness fears my arrows! In the name of the Forest… My mission is to banish the Darkness…!” -Wind Archer Cookie

[sallufix]

INTRUDER

Aftermath of that little animation... They were some of my first fanarts for the game and now I'm back in the fucking building again/ref ... I MISS THEM SO MUCH... Maybe this'll start a roommates saga and the voices will stop

[brittle-doughie]

One with the Wind! | Looking into the Wind, Piercer of Darkness Update Teaser for CRK

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We begin with a familiar silhouette going into what is presumably one of the many pipes that the Cookie Laboratory has. It looks like Wind Archer Cookie made due on his promise WAY BACK in the Sherbet story where he’d investigate Beast Yeast.

The hallway and this shot only confirm that this at least around the same area as the Laboratory. Just how expansive is this place?

And there they are. The big money shot of the teaser with the Beast Cookies’ presumed essence. You may notice in Eternal Sugar’s image that a certain beast is missing…

Just what exactly is the meaning behind this shot here? Is it draining or flowing into this cookie? Is this the creation of the Perfect Cookie? Is the Perfect Cookie the one that will wreak havoc on the laws of nature that Millennial Tree Cookie talked about?

The Giant Enemy Cake Witch has appeared. This is the 4th time we’ve fought this thing.

Wind Archer is not ugly here, don’t be so mean. There’s also some Beast imagery to the right, with their own glowing eyes. Oddly, Shadow Milk’s isn’t glowing despite not being free like Mystic Flour.

I know this is not the update preview, but there was so much significant stuff in this teaser for the update, I had to talk about it.

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[casiia]

༉‧₊˚. — simon 'GHOST' riley; deep breath.

warnings .: x reader, afab! reader, suggestive (just a kiss but still), mdni 18+, piercer simon, use of y/n, unedited.

.: masterlist.

the rhythmic hum of tattoo machines and the faint sound of chatter filled the air as you stepped into the studio; ghost canvas. you had booked an appointment with simon riley, intrigued by his work. known for his painless piercings and intricate fine-line tattoos, making him very well-known in the industry.

you had originally booked an appointment for another ear piercing, a helix that would go with the other assortments of jewelry already shining your ear. excitement and nervousness mingle through your stomach as you glance around the studio.

an ambient light flickers around each furniture corner, keeping the place dim and allowing natural sunlight to filter in through the sunroof. the walls were adorned with vibrant artwork, most of which are messy and clean-looking oil paintings. various band tapestries also hung from the walls, rock bands; nirvana, metallica, and deftones being a majority of the decor. 

you settled into the waiting area after checking in, and the receptionist behind the counter shot you a kind smile and let you know that your piercer, simon, would be ready soon. you had been a little late for your appointment, struggling to find parking, and he had taken another client waiting for you.

you shifted in your seat, the leather cool against your bare skin. you pulled the hem of your skirt down, before winding your hands in your lap. your eyes wandered around the room, and you couldn’t help but admire the diverse clientele that flowed in and out of the studio. each person was leaving or coming in with a unique mark, a testament to simon’s expertise. 

the longer you waited, the more nervous you began to feel. you had gotten piercings before, but each time you found yourself chewing on your lip in anticipation. pain was never your friend, and your tolerance for it was always low ever since you were a kid. tears would well in your eyes with every papercut you got, even now as an adult. 

“y/n? simon’s ready for you.” the receptionist calls out, guiding you into another small room. she looks at your fidgeting fingers and gives you another reassuring smile. “no reason to be nervous. just sit tight for a second, and he’ll be here to show you our selection of jewelry.” she encourages before shutting the door behind her and leaving you in the small room. 

it’s decorated very similarly to the lobby, except instead of oil paintings, there’s a various amount of skull decor littering the room. paintings, sculptures, and in a glass case on a counter sat a small dinosaur skull.

you felt a chill run down your spine; there was almost no color in the secluded room. everything was dull black and white, and the walls were even painted a dark gray. the only thing that stood out was you, sitting on the large black chair in your bright little pink skirt. 

you’re pressing your thighs together, your legs absentmindedly swinging as you wait for simon. you had heard about him from instagram, the wild comments that raved about his work while some raved about his looks. curiosity got the best of you and with his studio only a couple blocks from your place, what was there to lose?

“are you my two o'clock?”

you hadn’t even realized that the door opened, a tall man stepping inside and shutting it with a soft click. even with you sitting on the elevated chair, he loomed over you. his tall build complimented with muscles that bulged out of his tight-fitting black shirt. 

“i am. y/n, it’s nice to meet you.” you look up at him with a friendly smile, sticking your hand out for him to shake. when he does, you find yourself biting the inside of your cheek.

romance comedies always made you laugh; you never believed in love at first sight or a spark that ran between the two lovers when they first touched. but you couldn’t help but like how your hand fitted in his, his palm warm and much larger than yours. you could feel his calloused fingers squeezing your soft skin, an intimate touch that made you want more.

“simon.” the corner of his mouth barely turns up, but he’s looking down at you with a cocky look. he squeezes your hand again, and you're reminded that you should have let go by now. 

a blush paints your cheeks, causing you to look away from him and down at your lap. he clears his throat, and you can tell he wants to laugh, which only adds to your embarrassment.

“what kind of piercing are you planning on getting today?” he asks, going over to his jewelry display and bringing it to you. your eyes flicker into the clear box before looking back at him.

“just an ear piercing, a helix.”

he nods, reaching over and pushing your hair back. he looks at your ears, already littered with piercings, and he only nods again. “let me know which stud you’d like, and i’ll get it sanitized for you.”

as you continue to look through the assortments of jewelry, a frown forms on your lips. not to say that you were picky, but nothing seemed to catch your eye. the various amounts of gold and titanium all the same, dull in color, and wouldn’t match the theme of your ears. 

simon glances over your features as you’re focused on the display in front of him; you are beautiful and unlike any of his other clients. 

“i think i may have something that you’d like,” simon says, his voice sounding softer than before. he almost grins when you look up at him, your head tilting to the side in confusion. 

he’s kicking himself for wondering why you’re making him all comfortable; he was never one to want to be close to his clients. he’s leaning into you, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear and tilting your head with his thumb. his eyes linger on your lips, and he wants to push his thumb into your mouth, just wanting to see how you’d look. although quickly, he turns his attention back to your ears, noticing the array of star and moon jewelry that piece together perfectly. 

“i knew i was saving this for someone,” he mumbles, pulling away from you. he steps back over to his cabinet of jewelry, putting the clear case of boring studs back before grabbing a new one. “do you like any of these?”

your attention flickers down to the mini box he held in one hand, the case no larger than a ring box. inside sat a small star stud, its coloring a soft rose gold. instantly a smile finds your lips, and you’re nodding up at him with thankful eyes. “i love it.”

“great, give me a second, and i’ll get it cleaned up for you.”

as simon turns around to sanitize the stud, your gaze is glued to his back. the way his muscles flex under his shirt with every subtle move or the intricate tattoos that litter over his arms. it doesn’t look like he has any piercings, his face, and ears completely untouched. makes you wonder why he’s also taken in the profession of piercing; from just a glance, anyone can tell he’s much more into the art of inking. 

silence fills the room as you patiently wait; only the muffled sound of rock music from the lobby eases your nerves. he turns back to you, snapping black gloves onto his hands. “how is your pain tolerance? are you prone to fainting?” he asks, his tone almost monotone as he repeats the same precautionary questions that he has to ask every day. 

“i never faint, but i’m not too good with pain.” you reply, your hands now gripping the edge of your seat beside your thighs. “kinda why i booked with you, heard you make ‘em painless.”

he gives you a reassuring smile, pride starting to swell in his chest. “s’that why you booked with me?” simon couldn’t help but feel grateful that you’d made an appointment with him because of his skill and not his looks. most of his clients booked with him because of his reputation of being attractive, and even if you silently agreed with them, the fact that you didn’t voice it and belittle his career surprised him pleasantly. 

you nodded, swallowing thickly when he took a step closer. he’s telling you to relax, that he’s just gonna mark you, but you only find your breath hitching when he invades your personal space. he knocks your knees apart, making you spread your legs for him as he stands between them. he has your chin held between his fingers in one hand while the other is pushing your hair back again and pressing the tip of the toothpick into your skin, leaving a dot of purple ink at the top of your ear.

you can feel his warm breath fanning against your cheek, and your thighs try to close together, squeezing his hips. you have one hand on his chest, balancing him in an attempt to distance yourself. your other hand is gripping at the hem of your skirt, pulling it down as it rides up from your spread legs. 

“tell me if you like it.” simon whispers right by your ear, seeming to forget about the proximity. and just like before, he’s pulling away from you. allowing you to suck in a shaky breath. 

you didn’t think that this would be so intimate, and you wondered if simon was always like this or if he just liked the way you trembled beneath him. 

he hands you a small mirror and motions for you to look at the mark, “i wouldn’t recommend moving it, it would clash with your other jewelry.”

you agree with him, handing his mirror back and shifting once more in your seat. as much as you wanted him to lean into you again, to feel his breath across your face, you wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible. your attraction towards him is growing far too fast.

he hums, stepping towards you again, in the same spot between your legs. “lean back for me, sweetheart.” he mumbles, pushing you down into the seat. he’s bending over you and wiping your ear with an alcohol wipe, a cocky smirk on his lips when he feels your thighs squeezing into his hips again. 

the nickname catches you off guard, and now with you stuck underneath him, your nerves begin to eat at you. not because you’re worried about the pain or the piercing but because he’s playing with you now. 

“alright sweetheart, you’re only gonna feel a pinch. are you ready?” simon’s pulling back and looking at you, his eyes tracing your expression and looking for any sign of regret or hesitation. 

“i’m ready,” you mumble, your palms pressing into your stomach. you’re a little nervous, but you don’t find yourself running away. he’s tilting your head again, pressing into you with a babble of reassuring statements. 

“deep breath in for me.”

before you know it, the needle glides through your ear with minimal discomfort. it’s been your most painless piercing yet, and you understand why simon has the reputation that he does. 

“good job, love. did so good.” he praises you, sliding the jewelry into place and leaning back to look at you. his adoration fuels an ache between your legs, and you whine just under your breath. 

simon pulls off his latex gloves and presses his hands into your seat, dangerously close to your thighs. “how’d that feel?”

“amazing, you’re really good at what you do,” you say, sitting up in your seat. you tilt your head with a smirk, realizing that he still has you caged into the cushiony chair, unable to maneuver away.

he grins at your words, his tongue pushing on the inside of his cheek before he licks his lips. the ball of his tongue piercing, shining in the light only for a second. “thank you.” 

you don’t even register his appreciation, your mind clouding with the thought of his hidden piercing. “did it hurt?” unable to resist the urge, you voice your curiosity. 

“hm?” simon hums, a chuckle spilling from his lips. “when i fell from heaven?”

you snort, shaking your head. “no, your tongue piercing.” 

simon riley’s eyes meet yours with a mischievous glint; he flashes you a confident smile. his lips parted slightly, revealing the small but distinctive piece of jewelry. you find yourself leaning closer to him, watching as he teasingly slides the ball of his tongue piercing against his teeth. the sound, a gentle click, echoed in the intimate space.

“no,” he mutters, lifting your chin as you lean into him. his free hand going to your hip, squeezing it softly. 

“w-what does it feel like?” 

he hesitates momentarily, seemingly torn between professionalism and the impulse to share a more personal moment. he knows that his attraction is not one-sided, the way you’ve been eyeing him was an obvious sign. you didn’t shy away from his extra touches or the nicknames he whispered in your ear.

“want to find out?” he’s leaning in impossibly closer now, his lips ghosting over yours. and when you nod, he smiles, pressing his lips to yours. 

his grip on your chin tightens, his tongue pushing past your lips and into your mouth. you gasp softly, the feeling of his cold piercing rubbing against your tongue a feeling you’ve never experienced before. you moan into his mouth when his large hands travel down to your waist, tugging you into his chest; your legs wrap around his waist, and you shamelessly swallow his tongue as he shoves it down your throat. 

a knock at the door pulls the two of you apart, breathy gasp and panting quietly filling the room. simon still has that cocky smirk painted on his lips, his chest heaving as he pulls away, “that’s what it feels like.”

he answers his door, leaving you a flustered mess; you quickly gather your things and grab your bag from the floor. you can hear his receptionist telling him that his next appointment is here, and you feel so stupid. reality knocking the air from your lungs, you had just kissed simon, a stranger that you’d only met a couple minutes ago. you shouldn’t expect more, he merely answered a question that you asked. 

before you can push past him and out the room, he grabs your wrist, his grip tight. “wait,” simon sighs loudly, pulling you back into him before sliding his business card into the waistband of your skirt, “call me if you have any…questions.”

AN: republishing this with no changes because oh well, i also love being delusional cuz i lowkey fell in love with my piercer.

[sevikasuggestion]

not quite pro

2nd person, 4k words somehow. 21+ and i loveee the block button

contains a not quite APA certified piercing that doubles as foreplay, some bloodshed, miiiild blood play, some praise, some low-key mocking, sevika playing mildly subby temporarily, reader with a vag, fingering, me getting real long winded idk how this got be so damn long but yayyyyy sevikaaaaaaa

you’re kind of a piercer with a massive crush on zaun’s finest. sevika lets you break her into a tattoo shop after hours for a couple of firsts.

“What if I get nervous,” she almost hums, a lovely timbre, deep and clear. Sevika’s creamy skin glows under you where you stand, burnished under bright oil lamp light, and her eyes make unerring contact with yours as she fights to keep the smirk off of her face.

That’s the only fight you can see Sevika losing, in a just world.

‘Nervous,’ sure. She’s so much unflinching challenge wrapped tight in leather crop top, and you snicker out loud at the absurdity. Imagine this tank of a woman feining shy or demure, batting those short dark lashes or pouting sweetly to get her way, instead of simply putting the world where she wants it.

‘Nervous.’ Maybe she’s making fun of you, but you’re sure you aren’t actually, like, trembling with want– you’d actually say you’re playing it exceedingly cool right now, in the muted quiet of this tattoo shop, out "late" enough that it may just be "early," prepping her for a piercing you can’t believe you talked her into.

“Do you need something to hold on to, sweetheart?” Not even your hands shake, and even though you almost whisper it, you are so fucking brave. You haven't kissed, just walked the streets together and chatted, ghosting touches and lingering looks, with no care for getting caught.

You keep playing along, an excuse to stroke your free hand, sans latex glove, through the lock of hair tickling her cheekbone. The gesture is entirely selfish, but it soothes you as much as you hope it does her. “Something to bite down on?”

Sevika leans her head’s full weight into your palm, like a puppy, and she must hear how your breath hitches in your throat at the sight. Her smile is a little devious, and her voice dips a little lower, settles deep into your gut as your heart climbs to your throat. But when you start again to sanitize the septum of her nose with the alcohol wipe in your other, gloved, hand, Sevika goes very still for you, like you asked earlier, stoic against the tickle. Still, except to ask, “so what if I do?”

Then again, a delicate Sevika doesn’t seem so far-fetched, now that you’re looking down at her. She’s humoring you more than you had expected she would, and you wonder if you’ve just gotten very lucky. Even so, every word has felt like a dare, one you desperately want to live up to. You had had to work up the courage to approach in the first place, after a few aborted attempts, but you got it done. Fine, you think. Since she bets you won’t.

Avoiding her eyes, you glide clean fingers down her warm jaw, relaxed and pliable in your hand. You almost massage her neck but run ahead, over her shoulder, down to cup the fraction of bicep you can actually get your hand around– does this count as feeling her up? because it should, the way your stomach is flipping– ‘til you’re all the way to her hand, a loose fist resting on her own knee. She doesn't move, except to dart her eyes up and down your body, no attempts at subtlety. You wonder if you've really talked her into anything she wasn't plotting herself.

Its endlessly exciting, touching her. It could go nowhere, and if all you can say is you got your hands on her, drew only a little bit of blood, you’ll chalk it up as sweet victory. Her prosthesis grips the arm of her chair a little– you hear it creak– when you guide her hand to the low swell of your hip and up your back. She needs no further urging, gripping you almost for support, and she’s sitting up straighter, and looking right up at you, chin tilted to show more of her face to the light.

“Hold on, then. As tight as you need.”

You could have called her to heel in so many words and it wouldn’t’ve felt half as perfect, but you do have to ruin it.

“You have to sit back,” you order, smiling ruefully as you widen the gap between you, pressing feather-light against her collarbone. She moves with no effort at all, easily cowed just by your voice, and the wash of warmth at how easy it is reaches your toes and back up to your stomach. Maybe she likes you telling her what to do, trusting you in your realm, a little novelty. You’re sure she sees the effort it takes to keep your head with her this close, maybe this obedience is a reward.

Sevika looks up through lashes now, almost contrite for having moved without permission, lowering her chin. You want to fall into her arms, but you have a job to do. “You don’t have to be nervous, but you will tear up a little. That’s normal.”

“S’ not likely, sweetheart.”

“It’s almost mandatory, actually. It's a face piercing, this close to your eyes, a tear or two is like, reflex. I know you’re plenty tough. We’ll keep it a secret, promise.”

This crush is weeks old, and in passing on the street, or at the bars, you haven’t ever heard her so soft with anyone, even when she’s flirting. She’s not quite voicing challenge, or denying you’re in charge, even though her expressive brow twitches at each order you’ve given since you led her into this studio. You’re clearly having fun, telling her what to do while your piercing needles are in reach waiting for use, and she’s content letting you talk her through it.

As you distract yourself for a moment of boldness, counting the sparkles in her slate eyes, she seems pleased to be here, sat with her strong legs spread wide open, calm and still, her knees loosely caging your legs where you stand facing her. You’re done wiping her down, and she takes a big breath as you pick up the straight needle in the gloved hand and piece of cork in the other, and start to line up. “Another big breath in for me. By the time you breathe out, it'll basically be done. You ready?”

Her grin is brief and treacherous.

“Do your worst.”

At the bar earlier, when you’d finally plucked up the courage to say something after a few weekends of staring at the back of her head, she had seemed pleased to see you. Maybe your attempts at walking up to her hadn’t gone unnoticed after all. She had complimented your piercings after trading hellos, and you had seized the opportunity, leapt at it, actually, almost knocking over your drink to offer her one matching the shiny silver hoop through your septum. She hadn't blinked when you clarified that you weren't a piercer for work, not quite a pro. More of an enthusiast. She’d seemed more skeptical at your suggestion of placement, and had brought up how badly that could turn for her in a fight.

You had made a play at her ego, insisting that you had never seen anyone get close enough to her pretty face for that to be a real risk.

“So, you have been keeping tabs, then?”

Now, in a shop you do not have keys to, the muscle of her thighs pressing against the outsides of yours, you breathe in with her, and she keeps her eyes on yours. The press of the needle, the pop of separating skin, and she doesn't flinch once.

“You’re doing so good for me, okay? Keep breathing.”

She’s only bleeding a little–you narrate every step, as is your professional protocol, very clinical and detached. Not breathy, almost panting with nerves as you swab away the smear of red, of course not; not resisting the moan at the back of your throat, laser focused on how her grip had belatedly tightened on your hips after you pierced her. You aren’t sweating a little as you chase the ring through, fasten the spike end, tell her again how good she’s doing. It’s quick and successful, and the relief of not having fucked up the face of the most dangerous person you’ve ever known pulls a sigh from you that fluffs her hair as you let it out. Her eye is watering, by the way, but you don't mention it, turning to her to wipe it away with a fresh bit of gauze.

“Keep your damn hands to yourself!” She halts her hand in its path straight to the new hole in her face, faces her palm to you in appeasement.

“I’m serious, Sevika, don’t touch. I’ve done my part, if you get an infection and your shit falls off I’m not liable.”

“Don’t touch, I got it. This what you’re always like with a weapon in your hand?”

“Sometimes, the job is to protect clients from themselves.”

“Job? Alright. Hands off, heard you.”

She’s keeping her hands occupied elsewhere, gliding them up and down your thighs, watching your chest rise and fall and little faster with each dip behind your knees. You feel like you're melting, like, it's a wonder you’re still upright with jelly femurs and a spine the autumn breeze could fold.

She’s moving up a little higher and down lower with each stroke now that you’ve cleaned her and up and shed the glove, eyes admiring your own piercings again, more exposed now with your hair pulled back.

“Your earrings are beautiful. I don’t know how you deal with so many. That can’t be it though, right?”

“Are you trying to catch up?”

You just sound excited, ready for more of her to look forward to. Would she really let you bring her back here and do this again? Lightning strikes twice all the time.

She lowers her lashes, leans back in the chair and slouches until almost eye-level with your exposed midriff, licking her lips.

She cants her hips further forward than ever, her pretty swoosh of wavey, soft-looking happy trail peeking over the cargos playing you a siren call, a posture you could see perfectly in place on some great throne, or at the head of a high end poker table-- somewhere you only get a seat if you can seize it. Gods, she's beautiful.

You’ve wanted to lick hearts into her bush for weeks, but now is absolutely not the time to tell her you’re batshit for her.

Now’s the time for Sevika to reiterate her grip on your hip with one hand, letting the cool metal of her other glide to your soft belly button, unpierced. You let her see you shiver, see your mouth fall open on another shakey breath. She looks back to your eyes instead of suggestively staring elsewhere.

“Are you holding out on me?”

Two options, and one slow, calming breath: whip off your shirt and flash her your nipple piercings, or play it cool? Be fucking cool.

“How about I’ll show you another one of mine for every one you let me give you?

“And I was right,” you sing, teasing. It’s your hand on her jaw now, guiding her very gently to look into the mirror to her left. “We’re a cute match.”

“That’s a shit deal if I’ve ever heard one. You’re way ahead.” Sevika smiles at herself with both corners of her mouth, brow soft and upturned, genuinely pleased to see your work done. You’ve started her with a gauge much larger than normal, closer to the thick hoop in your own nose. To your eyes, a dainty 14-gauge ring wouldn’t quite suit her, and she seems to agree.

“You love it.” At work, you’re nothing if not confident; this isn’t a question. Suddenly, she’s standing, and leaning into you, intent to answer without words. “Wait, no! Don’t–”

Sevika’s surprised, about to apologize, but then realizes what you mean. You both realize it at the same time, this has been a mutual act of self sabotage. You’re about a fingertips length apart and breathing each other’s air, but you’ve put your hands to her shoulders, blocking her advance, again. The urge, the want, rushes through you hot as brushfire, another spark to the grass every time you move against her full bust. As badly as you both want to, and goddamn do you want to, you really can’t jump her with a new nose ring.

“For at least a few days.”

The piercing, of course. She rolls her eyes and groans, slumps against you and rests her forehead on your shoulder, your heart soars at all this contact. She wants it as bad as you do, you think, as she sinks slowly back into her chair, never letting go your hips. She’s–do you dare think it?-- dejected, but pulls you back to start and then closer, hands curling possesive and hot on the backs of your thighs, kneading them almost apart.

“It's a– huh– a fresh wound…you have to promise to treat it like one. No mashing faces,” you prescribe while she spikes your heart rate with a few insistent touches. Sevika snorts and starts kneading you where she holds you, “or getting punched in the mouth. Don’t fuck up my hard work.” You think you kind of sounded stern there, at the end.

“Safe, huh? I will… do my best to respect your hard work.” She says it smirking, and you look away, suddenly shy now that the job is done. Then you hear your name from her lips, very frankly, so you let her catch your eye again.

“How’s it feel? Sore?” you ask.

She says your name again through a small smile, wincing a little.

“You were gentle, thank you. Really. I’ve had this in mind for… years, maybe, just couldn’t...well. Couldn't be bothered. Got busy. So, thank you. It feels…” she considers her reflection again as you take in her profile and commit every slope and sharp corner of her jaw, her nose, her brow, to warm-washed memory.

“Feels like me. Feels right. I owe you at least a favor.”

“Oh, I’m– uh– just happy I could–! Uh. Thank you for letting me be your first, hah.”

“Mhm, my first.” She sounds delighted at that. “That’s a big deal, isn’t it? I should thank you properly.”

She places a wginger kiss on your stomach, and from here you see her brow crease a bit. “You can't do that,” you breathe, helpless. Lying. “What did I just tell you?”

“‘No face mashing’,” she answers. She hisses in a breath, wincing again with another kiss, different angle, trying to mitigate the damage she’s probably doing. Clearly she’s knocked her now-sensitive nose again, but she doesn’t seem to care.

“I can be gentle too, sweetheart.” She keeps using your own words against you. This has been her plan, the reason for all this patience. She’s been collecting little weapons against you, waiting for you to clock out and come back to yourself for maximum effect.

“You're hurting yourself.”

“I can take it. Are you waiting for me to beg?” She raises one brow higher than the other, daring you to shut her down, but you’re already moving to straddle her, so done being in charge for the night.

“‘No sucker punches,' you said. I’m just following your rules, doll.”

The shock of cold against your back where she holds you up is such stark contrast to all the heat between you, and she’s finally, finally making her way between your thighs where she’s got you spread wide. You can feel your heartbeat in your throat, and you gasp at the intrusion when she traces the slope of you through the thin panties under your hiked-up skirt.

You want to stop talking and communicate exclusively through whines and gasps, but you reach one last time for humility. What you’ve done is not that impressive, and all the glory you’d find at her fingertips would not be an even exchange the way she’s implying.

“Sevika-a-a, please. I swear you don’t– hm– owe me anything. This, huh, isn’tevenmyequipment, oh.” You’re fighting to get it all out in one breath, the shitty little people-pleaser in you getting its last useless word in before you wrap an arm loosely ‘round her perfect shoulders and give up the game entirely, give in to pleasure.

“You’re holding your breath.” You just squeak in answer, shoulders rising.

“You have to breathe for me, baby, you’re doing so good.” She laughs, and you grunt a little louder, and take a breath in– she’s not inside, not quite, just tracing a sopping wet circle around your entrance, just about brushing the underside of your clit with palm-heel. It’s a real onslaught, but one of frustration, two warring clusters nerves competing for heat, and all you can want is more, more, more.

“You want me to stop.”

Desperation seizes your throat– what a hateful thought, “no, god, no, Sevika, please.”

“‘No,’ what, doll?” says the evil woman.

“Do not stop, please, feels so good, Sev, could you–” and your boldness trips and stops short, you're frustrated out loud, not sure how to phrase it. You didn’t think this far, couldn’t’ve dreamt this far, and aren’t sure what would sound good to her-- you just know you need pressure. She lets her fingers circle your clit properly, lets you rub yourself against her in earnest, a delicious press pulling your hips forward and back almost involuntarily.

She’s a well of patience, this lady. Probably because watching you fumble is plenty entertainment, but she doesn’t stop either. You realize your hips have been moving along with her strokes the whole time, short rhythmic circles, a little faster than how she’s not just teasing, and you feel your face growing hotter. You can hear your own needy gasps getting higher, louder, and the sound of it turns you on even more. You wonder if she can feel the heart beat in your cunt where she's treating you so rudely.

“Could I…?” she prompts you to finish. Her chin knocks into your torso as she speaks, and from here you're not surprised to see a little blood trailing out of her nose. The sight of it heats you at your core, you want to lick her clean, but can’t risk scaring her off just yet.

“Just, could you–” and you run out of words again, instead reaching between you to flatten her palm against you. Now your cunt is covered by her, cradling you like a jock, like a shield, and she’s dripping wet with you. Your clit is buzzing against her calloused palm, hole clenching around nothing as you hump delicately above her.

It's good, so good, and still not enough of her. Sevika mouths at your tits over your shirt, leaving tiny blood droplets behind, and paying them no mind, and you remember refusing her permission to investigate your piercings further. She has to feel them though, has to know you’ll be laying this bloody shirt over your face when you fuck yourself and pinch, thinking of her mouth on the same spots through fabric.

“Keep breathing, sweetheart, you’ve got to keep breathing for me.” You are struggling to, and maybe she's mocking you, but all the fight you have is another desperate, sobbing, “please, please.”

“You ready?”

“Stars, Sevika,” you beg again. And she’s off, past the gate in one stride. She breaches and fills you full with two sopping wet fingers, the sweet burn of her stretching you has you flexing every muscle, yowling her name again in a long drag.

"Feels good, huh?"

"Stings," you huff, and she laughs, close-mouthed.

"Likewise."

Then, there’s the cold grip of her whirring metal arm across your waist, it's almost too much, it’s like an ice plunge, it’s like ringing crystal. The hand you aren’t supporting yourself with wraps around her leather wrist cuff between your legs, squeezing and using her. Sevika leans back a bit to watch your face contort and crumble as she fucks into you.

The wave builds quickly, you wonder if you should tell her you’re about to cum, her hums of encouragement too sweet against the vulgar squelch of you, dripping wet, she says, did me so right, baby, so how’s it feel? You can feel the chilling air hitting your thighs where she’s spreading your mess about, you feel filthy, exalted.

“That’s it, sweetheart, chase it,” and she coos it, cheery, like she’s telling you to go fetch, as she plunges in and out, hounding you, brows furrowed in focus on you, her grin devious. Her thighs clench below yours, keeping you stable, and yours flex in turn as you do as she says, chasing down your orgasm like mad. You’re on tippy toes in your seat, curling and arching your feet against the floor, and her long powerful fingers pull you along, racing you to your finish line.

You’re well past caring about safe protocol – you’re thinking only of having a taste of her when you lean down and lick her, lap sloppily into her mouth, tasting blood.

Something to bite down on.

She purrs deep and rusty, her long groan of pleasure and approval buzzing in your ear and down your spine, and she sucks your tongue to soothe before clipping your lip the way you just did her, harder than comfort. It just heightens the rush of blood in your ears, and her rhymth in your cunt is picking up to match your hips bucking against her.

Just before the wave crashes, when you know she can feel your walls stuttering around her, you pull her face away from yours and to your neck, pleading for her again with just her name, “Sevika, Sevika,” high and needful, and she hears you, she’s got you, bites down in answer as she plunges in and out of you through the orgasm ripping through your every nerve. You cum with her grunting in syncopation with your unsteady gasps, clamping your every limb around her, gasping and seizing, and she cradles you through it, suckling on the new bruise on your neck, tonguing the tooth marks she’s left behind.

As you come down, your seat shifting closer to her torso now that her hands don’t need the room, she winds her arms behind you in a hug, and you collapse a little against her chest, tired from all the tension you've been holding all this time.

Sevika leans back and lets you, chin on your shoulder. You're catching your breath as she takes another look at herself in the mirror, trail of blood drying down her lip and on the new ring in her nose. She's trying to recall the last time someone got close enough to do so much damage, and she's drawing a blank.

[denisetheartist]

Wind, Piercer of Darkness.

Holy MOLY! The CRK hyperfixation came back at the beginning of the year and it is going wild already

Anyways!! This is a post about my Wind Archer art but I need…NEED TO TALK about Shadow Milk’s Legendary costume!!

ANYWAYS!!

Look at him, he looks so precious and nerdy I love him

He’s so me frohmygudp yehakhakhiakhjakhjinlove him sosoosososmuch,,,❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

This bitch is probably sleep deprived and a workaholic 100%

[starlight727]

CRK WIND, PIERCER OF DARKNESS STORY SPOILERS

So I can't hug him...? *sad*

FINE! What's 7 more months? *punches the wall* I can always start again *punch* Read another fanfic *punch*

[dragon-curse-au]

DRAGON CURSE MASTERPOST

When Dark Enchantress Cookie meddles with powers that are beyond her control, small gemstone artifacts become scattered across Earthbread, full of magical draconic energy that has the ability to curse any cookie that comes into contact with one. The curse is now commonly known as the Dragon Curse, giving those effected the power to turn into a dragon at will with some drawbacks. Now Dark Enchantress strives to attempt to regain control over the curse, drawing in the attention of the Beast cookies as well.

Updated as of 2/5/2025

RULES

No Roleplay

This is not a roleplay blog. Anyone caught trying to start RP or is engaging in RP within our posts will be blocked.

No AI

This includes C.AI and adjacent apps/"tools". If you use any of our art, character interpretations, or OCs in AI or attempt to make fanart/fanfiction with AI you will be blocked.

Act Mature

While we won't restrict this blog to an older audience, please be aware that this AU will contain mature themes such as graphic violence, character death, slightly suggestive content, and overall bad times. If you can't handle that or are caught acting like a child (IE: demanding art, being unnecessarily rude, etc.) then you may take your leave.

Fanart/Fanfics

You are allowed to make fan creations! We always love it when people enjoy our work enough to be inspired. We only ask to keep it SFW and all. Please feel free to tag us if you do post anything related to this AU! We will reblog it so you can be featured here.

Asks

The askbox is always open if you have questions, comments, or suggestions. Just please be kind and civil! We love explaining things to people who may be a bit confused.

TAGS

Mod Canid / Mod Dragon : Posts made by their respective mods.

Canid's Art / Dragon's Art : Art drawn by their respective mods.

Dragon Curse AU : Main tag for the AU.

AU Lore Post : Posts made that are important to the lore.

Character Reference : References made for individual characters in the AU.

Asked and Answered : Answered asks.

Every character featured in posts will be tagged individually! If you're looking for someone in particular you can simply search them up within the blog.

STORY MASTERPOST

COMIC

Arc 1: 1 | TBA

FICS

TBA

GUIDEBOOKS

Bestiary: TBA

Earthbread's History: TBA

Magic: TBA

FAQ

What is Dragon Curse AU?

Dragon Curse is a Cookie Run: Kingdom AU that completely rewrites the canon timeline. It is mainly focused on several relationships between cookies, and of course, the main gimmick: the dragon curse.

What is the dragon curse? What does it do?

The dragon curse itself is a curse that can be inflicted upon cookie when they come into contact with artifacts magically charged with draconic energy. Becoming cursed allows the bearer to transform into a dragon (having both an anthro and full dragon form), which can either be done at will or brought out via strong emotions. While cursed cookies will never achieve the same power or grandeur as a true dragon, they can still experience a fraction of that immense power and use it to their advantage.

Will there be shipping?

The entire AU revolves around shipping. If you want specific ships, the main ones that are discussed are: Pure Vanilla/Dark Cacao, Shadow Milk/Burning Spice, Dark Choco/Red Velvet, Hollyberry/Golden Cheese, Wildberry/Crunchy Chip, Mystic Flour/Eternal Sugar, White Lily/Elder Faerie, Royal Margarine/Pitaya Dragon, Capsaicin/Prune Juice/Kouign-Amann, Silent Salt/Wind Archer, Espresso/Madeleine/Eclair, Affogato/Clotted Cream, and many more.

When does the story take place?

Dragon Curse spans from the beginning of Earthbread to the very afterlives of the cookies that lived within it. Most of the story takes place during when the canon events would, though it is worth noting that nearly nothing from canon remains the same.

"X character doesn't act like this in canon/this never happened in canon!"

Read above. It's also worth noting that this AU was created prior to the Wind, Piercer of Darkness update and has been changed as we see fit with each update afterwards. None of the beast cookies will be anywhere near their canon counterparts. We can write them better anyways :)

Is there a comic or written fic?

The main comic is currently in development! The plan is for side stories to either have smaller minicomics or even fics written for them.

Can I suggest something for the AU?

We love hearing your thoughts! Feel free to send ideas our way in the inbox. There's no guarantee it'll be added, though.

EXTRA

List of cursed cookies: TBA

Support mod Canid on Ko-Fi! Commissions available!

[cheesecakemermaid1048]

I would include witch's castle but IDK if it has update name title for whenever another playable cookies comes.My phone cant run it so🤷‍♀️

[bramblebush2]

Sorry but the sheer overabundance of support cookies releasing is getting on my nerves

The only updates this year that didn't give us any new supports were Dawn of the Dragon (Rebel), Heaven-Splitting Lightning (Stormbringer) and Wind-Piercer of Darkness (Wind Archer)

ALL THE UPDATES THAT HAD MORE THAN 1 NEW CHARACTER BE RELEASED HAVE HAD A SUPPORT COOKIE IN THE ROSTER

AFTER THIS UPDATE WELL HAVE 26 SUPPORT COOKIES

Pls devsisters just give us new Ranged or Bomber cookies 😭😭

[itsraining-honey]

not the biggest wind archer fan but this title screen for him is beautiful

[sallufix]

HAUNTED BREEZE AU

So much people on twitter loved my stuff about them so I will profit by expanding on the idea of their dynamic 🔥🔥 Most of my Shadow Milk and Wind Archer art will be tagged under the Haunted Breeze AU tag now for easier searching

[brittle-doughie]

[Masterlist #2]

[Masterlist #1/Main Page] >>> HERE!

Brittle’s Cookies

[Cookie Run Ovenbreak/Kingdom]

Destructive Influence (Grand Cookie Games)

Rejoice (St. Pastry Order)

Slight Detour (Grand Cookie Games)

The Deal with Ancients V2 (Golden Cheese/White Lily Cookie)

Beast Stars (The Five Beasts/Compassion AU)

Cookie to the Rescue! (Golden Osmanthus Cookie)

The 8th Dream - Y/N Cookie’s Nightmares

No Dream for You! (Dreamweaver Cookie)

Blueberry Blues (Parfaedia)

Go Smell the Flowers (Flower City)

Apologies, Apologies (Nutmeg Tiger, Golden Cheese, and Smoked Cheese Cookie)

Anticipated Arrival (Golden Cheese Cookie)

Wayward Soul (Parfaedia Cookies)

Tribute Day (Brittle OCs/Cookie Kingdom)

Five Nights, Five Dragons (The Five Dragons)

The Fool (Shadow Milk Cookie)

Spooky Cookie Tales: Watched

The Tale of the Forced Hand (Beast Cookies)

Long Time Friend (Hollyberry Kingdom)

One with the Wind! | Looking into the Wind, Piercer of Darkness Update Teaser for CRK

Feathered Envy (Dessert Paradise)

A Little Help (Star Coral Cookie)

Tale of the Mansion

Keeping Friends Close and Best Friends Closer (Cream Soda and Cherry Cola Cookie)

Superstar! The Cookie Olympics Event!

Draw Your Blade! | Looking into the Valorous Sun Tournament Update for CROB!

Cookie Flipside: Light Cream Cookie

Heartfelt Unison (Y/N Cookie skill)

Return to Sender (Strawberry Stick and Mint Wafer Cookie)

Volition’s End (Mystic Flour Cookie)

Illusion of Dreams (Clotted Cream Cookie)

The Lover of Passion HCs (Beast Hollyberry Cookie) | The Ancient Beast Order AU

The Manufacturer of Darkness

The Prophet of Salvation HCs (Beast Pure Vanilla Cookie) | The Ancient Beast Order AU

The Ancient Beast Order (Ancient Beast AU)

I Don’t Remember You (Dark Cacao and Mystic Flour Cookie)

The Walls of the Baker (Ancient and Beast Cookies)

Yin and Yang (Peach Blossom and Affogato Cookie)

Pearly Contemplation

Get Along (Dark Cacao and Mystic Flour Cookie)

Lethality (Lethal Company x Cookie Run)

Living Legend (Y/N Cookie Concept)

The Lone Giant

Longing Tide (Sea Fairy Cookie)

The Plague Approaches! | Looking into The Awakening of White Apathy Update for CRK!

No Class (Sachertorte Cookie)

Late Arrival (Dark Cacao Cookie)

Dust to Dust (Caramel Arrow Cookie)

Cocooned (Mystic Flour Cookie)

Mystic Flour is Coming…

The Wishful or the Regal (Lotus Dragon vs. Longan Dragon Cookie)

Gotta Go (The Ancient Cookies)

Under the Castle…

Timeless Kingdom - Deliciously Evil Banquet (Reader Insert)

Remember Who?

Ways of Cookie and Egg Care (The Dragons)

I Know You (Stormbringer Cookie)

Dessert Report (The Ancient Cookies)

Legendary Group Chat

A Brave Advice (Reader Insert)

The Perfect Vessel Doesn’t Exi- (The Five Beasts)

Time Balance Shenanigans (18+)

Hiding H/N, Seeking Beasts (The Five Beasts)

Welcome Back, Handycookie (TBD Update)

Flower from the Other Shore (Cherry Blossom Cookie)

Loyal Until the End (Caramel Arrow Cookie)

Costume Bond: One Heart for All, All Hearts for One.

Ingrained (Herb Cookie)

New Faces at the Witch’s Castle

Let’s Get Rolling! | Looking into the Lights, Camera, Action! Event for CROB!

What If: The First.

The Gist of The Dangerous Exchange

Let Me Be Your Princess (Princess Contest Cookie)

The Earthbread Big Seller

Bake It Till You Make It: Tasty Delights

Even More Heartbreak (Alt) - Mermaid’s Lament (White Pearl Cookie)

With Baker’s Love (Valentine’s Day 2024 Special)

A Cringe Day for Chocolates

A Witch’s Castle? [Witch’s Castle Introduction]

Storm Warning (Black Pearl Cookie)

The Cookie Run Horror - Concept #2 - “MASH”

Y/N Cookie Interactions

Reason to Stay (Elder Faerie Cookie)

Final Days (The Five Beasts)

Forced Connections

League of Evil Cookies

Spooky Cookie Tales: Prikaza

The Corrupted or the Fooled (Abyss Monarch vs. Black Pearl Cookie)

Off to Wish Camp! | A Look into CROB’s 7th Anniversary Update

Can’t Take What Isn’t Yours

Halt! The Restriction Mayhem Update

The Greedy or the Honorable (Pirate Cookie vs. Captain Ice Cookie)

Satellite (Stardust Cookie)

Cookie Details: Y/N Cookie (Mercookie Ver.)

I Remember You (Lobster and Mocha Ray Cookie)

The Heroic or the Meditated (Hero Cookie v. Ninja Cookie)

Eggcellent Easter Short

Grass is Greener Part 1 (Lilybell and Blue Lily Cookie)

[pure-vanilla-lilies]

hey i just looked at "wind, piercer of darkness" title screen in cookie run kingdom fandom wiki and i saw one thing. when you look at the depiction of beasts, you cans see that eternal sugar, burning spice and silent salt's eyes are opened and glowing and they are left unharmed, shadow milk is with closed eyes and unharmed but mystic flour is with closed eyes and craked

for me it unknown what happened with mystic flour's depiction cuz i couldn't play the game when there was update with her but some people might know what happened to her and is depiction connected to her wellbeing status or it isn't connected at all

True!

[karmawind-a]

@tempestial: no, no, no, not now ! another unfortunate encounter, another path of destruction in it’s wake. having followed dan heng into a long abandoned building ; glass cracked and shattered with the force of their wind, long scion’s clumsy footsteps, stumbling him through most of the fight, cloud piercer sluggish with its weight and the flush of his body wearing him down. he knew this song and dance like the back of his hand, the moment the mara struck and blade’s silent contempt became loud and copious. more often than not, he was unable to be reasoned with ( or seduced into their usual trysts, ) but for the first time in years he contemplated begging to be let go, to resume their match at a different time. just as words lay ready to fall from panting tongue, a well timed shove sent the lancer into a rotting table, head banging a little too hard upon the wood as it screeched against the wall. it was a long enough distraction to be caught up with, pinned with blade’s thigh between his legs and the heady scent of iron and spider lilies to flood his senses. hands would raise to grip blade’s shoulder as he neared, but, unsure quite yet whether he wanted him to back away or pull him closer. dan heng’s eyes dilated, unable to focus properly, soft lips parted, panting while he waited for the hunter to respond. around them the faint scent of lotus and petrichor fell about them like a dense fog.

ㅤㅤㅤ𝐢𝐭'𝐬   𝐭𝐡𝐞   𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞   𝐨𝐟   𝐭𝐡𝐞   𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝   𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩-𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐭   that   he'd   chased   him,   a   dog   with   the   scent   of   blood   in   it's   mouth   -   a   predator   ever   pursuant   of   wounded   prey.   the   stars   are   exceptionally   bright   tonight,   the   breeze   ethereal   and   balmy.   auspicious   lights   hang   heavy   in   the   sky   -   eight   round   globes,   full   and   bright   and   heavy   in   the   dark   sky,   beautiful   despite   their   surroundings.   the   xianzhou   luofu   is   a   massive   ship   -   one   that   has   seen   many   wars,   many   battles,   and   lofty   as   they   may   be   -   even   it   is   not   immune   to   the   scars   of   time,   so   reflected   in   the   over   grown,   dilapidated   building   that   the   sinner   had   sought   refuge   inside.   it   was   no   matter,   of   course.   the   mara   sang   in   his   blood   -   dan   heng's   scent   heavy   in   his   nostrils.   (   why   was   he   running?   why   was   he   always   running?   were   they   back   here   again?   )   there   was   no   escaping   the   blade,   no   escaping   the   death   that   sang   for   his   beloved,   a   siren's   call   to   plunge   his   sword   through   pliant   flesh   again   and   again...

ㅤㅤㅤhis   sanity   rattled   it's   cage.   he   was   missing   something   here.   forgetting   something   important.   look   up!   his   mind   seemed   to   say,   before   swift   feet   carried   him   into   the   building.   the   blade   ignored   such   thoughts,   of   course   -   instead,   he   let   his   sword   drag   upon   cobbled   stone,   lips   parting   to   reveal   too   white   teeth   while   crimson   eyes   burnished   red   in   the   dark.   wind   -   it   licked   between   them,   giving   away   dan   heng's   position   without   a   momentary   hesitation,   and   the   blade   was   on   him   in   an   instant.   ❝   nowhere   to   run!   ❞   he   sounds   almost   gleeful,   madness   permeating   the   edges   of   his   vision   as   glass   shatters   about   him,   as   his   hulking   frame   moves   with   the   fluidity   that   had   earned   him   a   place   at   the   side   of   four   powerful   immortals.   there   is   satisfaction   in   dan   heng's   pain,   satisfaction   as   he   slips   between   svelte   legs,   looming   over   him   with   sword   in   hand.   the   mara   wants,   and   wants,   and   wants   -   how   should   he   kill   him   this   time?   his   neck   was   nigh   on   bare   -   perhaps   his   fingers?   perhaps   he   could   watch   the   life   fade   that   way,   but   the   mara   did   so   enjoy   spilled   blood.   choices,   choices-

ㅤㅤㅤthe   blade   pauses.   

ㅤㅤㅤa   blink   befalls   those   candlelit   eyes,   frown   suddenly   pulling   over   his   features.   he   stares   down   at   dan   heng's   flushed   countenance,   pressing   close   and   neat   to   his   frame   -   so   much   like   a   lover,   so   much   like   he   used   to.   and   it   felt   such   a   way   too,   when   the   muscle   of   his   thigh   rubbed   against   something   hard   between   them,   and   when   that   keen,   keen   gaze   -   even   under   the   influence   of   the   mara   -   became   privy   to   the   coil   of   dragon's   smoke   that   furls   about   the   man   who   wears   the   face   of   his   former   beloved   and   has   begun   to   haunt   his   dreams   as   dan   heng   himself,   and   not   dan   feng.   

ㅤㅤㅤ❝   oh.   ❞   he   intonates   throatily,   wildness   edging   between   the   mara,   blade,   and   the   vague   remnants   of   yingxing   that   haunted   his   flesh.   ❝   oh,   you-   ❞   down,   he   leans,   sword   stabbing   into   rotting   wood   near   the   vidyadhara's   head      as   blade   sniffs,   as   he   drinks   in   the   scent   that   he   had   grown   so   accustomed   to,   that   had   helped   edge   away   his   madness,   he   lets   a   smirk   dart   across   handsome   features.   ❝   you're   moonstruck.   ❞   he   has   to   laugh.   of   course   he   does.   it's   bitter,   it's   deep,   and   it's   downright   patronizing,   especially   when   his   hands   move   to   furiously   grip   thin   hips,   and   slide   dan   heng's   body   along   the   warmth   of   his   strong   thigh.   ❝   you   fool,   did   you   not   pay   attention   to   the   signs?   ❞   perhaps   this   -   perhaps   humiliating   the   body   below   him   in   new   yet   utterly   familiar   ways   was   even   better   than   allowing   the   mara   to   run   rampant   and   drain   the   life   from   him.   ❝   poor   sanctimonious   vidyadhara.   what   a   predicament   you've   gotten   yourself   into.   ❞

ㅤㅤㅤwho   is   speaking   now?   it's   hard   to   tell,   especially   as   he   leans   downwards,   the   warmth   of   his   lips   nearing   the   shell   of   dan   heng's   ear,   and   groans   -   low   and   throaty.   ❝   what   to   do,   now   that   i   have   you   like   this,   moon   drinker?   ❞