#with the power of research and my own two hands

[nightsandrewrites]

Illyrian Males Pt. 2

Pairing: Cazriel x Reader

Summary: You navigate a new mating bond, while Cassian and Azriel reveal things they've been keeping from you...

Word count: 8.9k

Warnings: Smut, BDSM, depression, self sacrifice, use of Y/N

a/n: I had a block on this for the longest time, unsure where I would take a part two but it finally fell into place. This is darker than the first part, buckle up friends.

Part 1

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The paperwork pulls in and out of focus in front of you. You rub the palms of your hands into your eyes and let them drop to the table with a sigh. It’s no good, you’ve been sitting here for far too long and nothing is getting done. You shove the papers away and pull one of the library's heavy books towards you.

“Y/N I’ve been looking for you.” Rhysand appears from the shadows of the bookshelves. “Well, you found me.” You smile up from the dusty tome. “Tell me that you’ve come for something far more interesting than this.” You gesture to the work spread out before you.

“I think so.” He smirks and takes a seat opposite you. “I’ve just received word that most of the female Illyrians in Windhaven have agreed to start training.” “What!” You shout and then shrink back as you recall the quiet sanctuary of the library around you. “What do you mean? Who convinced them?” “You did.” He reaches forward and starts flipping idly through one of the books on the table “Apparently the group you were headed to see in the cottage the other week witnessed that trainee lunge at you and then watched you take him down. Seeing your quick reaction and ability to defend yourself convinced them.” He straightens a little then and starts glancing around your small study space between the shelves. “That’s amazing, I’ll start working with Cassian on a training plan.” You start searching for a pen so you can jot down some ideas. “Hopefully when their training begins news will start spreading to the other camps and we can get those females involved as well.” “Speaking of Cassian.” Rhysand leans forward onto his forearm “Why do you smell like my General?” He grins wickedly at you. “And my Spymaster for that matter.” You can feel the blood rush to your cheeks. “Well, I-, actually what I-” you were sure the blush now tinged your neck and the tips of your ears. “Relax” Rhysand leans back in his chair “It’s none of my business.” He begins picking invisible lint from his shoulder and you smile softly at his little ways of making you more comfortable. You take a deep breath. “Actually you should know.” You exhale to steady yourself. “I was hoping that Cass and Az would be here when you found out, but I’d rather not leave you to jump to your own conclusions.” You glance up to find his eyebrows raised in a ‘who me?’ fashion. “I know that they are mates and, well, I am also their mate.” You bite your lip waiting for his response. His eyes widen in surprise for all of three seconds and then he leans forward on clasped hands. “A triad bond huh.” He reaches a hand into the air, materialises a book from nowhere and begins flicking. “Extremely rare, I’ve actually never met someone in a triad before. I wonder if there are any additional benefits or detriments when compared to a regular bond.” he begins rambling “Of course I’ll mask your scent” Without looking up he clicks his fingers and you feel a ripple of his power wash over you. “You three will make an excellent case study, of course if you’re willing to answer some questions, nothing too personal obviously.” “Wait, you can mask my scent?” You ask. “Of course, who do you think has masked the scent of those two all over each other for centuries? You’ll be able to scent each other but it keeps it covered for others. It’s a tiny piece of my magic, a good way to keep burning it off really.” He replies without looking up from his new research.

“We decided to keep the bond a secret for now, if you’ve been doing it for them why wouldn’t they get you to do it for me right away?” You try to control the level of your voice. Rhysand looks up at you with a levelled stare.

“Y/N, they may be two of the greatest warriors to ever grace the Illyrian legions but they’re still males.” You cock your head to the side trying to understand. “They’re being territorial. They want you to smell like them. Even though it’s stupid and risks the bond being exposed.”

“Oh.” You sit back and feel the blush that just started to fade reappear across your cheeks.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------

You walk into your room and find Cassian waiting in the armchair you keep in the corner.

“Finally, I thought I would have to come pull you from the library myself.” He jumps up and scoops you into his arms as your feet leave the ground.

“I got caught up with Rhysand.” You explain as you dip your head down and place a soft kiss to his lips. A flurry of jealousy washes down the bond.

“Really? Rhys?” You raise your eyebrows at him as he sets you back on your feet.

“Sorry.” He chuckles. “Mating bond is still chaffing a little bit.” He runs a hand through his dishevelled hair as he ducks his head.

“Well he knows now, about us I mean.” You gesture awkwardly between the two of you.

“You told him?” He smirks mischievously.

“I didn’t have to, he was curious to know why I smelt like you and your mate” You smack him lightly on the shoulder as you push past and dump your bag at your desk. “Why didn’t you tell me about the scent masking?” 

“Honestly it slipped my mind.” He shrugs. “It’s not like we’ve really left the house so the secret's still safe.”

He crosses the room towards you until you're forced to lean back into the desk to look up at him.

“Also is it so bad that you smell of me and our mate?” He dips down and begins to brush his lips along your neck.

Right. Our mate. The one who’s become increasingly distant. Who trains longer and stays in his study later into the night. The one who let Cassian take over your blade training after one small disagreement.

You drop your head to Cassian’s chest and let a small sigh escape your lips. He lifts your face with gentle fingers under your chin.

“This is about Azriel?” His dark eyes flick between yours.

“What if he’s disappointed Cass? What if he regrets accepting the bond?” You can feel the tears forming in the back of your throat.

“Trust me baby. He doesn’t regret it. He’s just…” His gaze falls to the middle distance above your head, searching for the right words.

“Pushing me away?” It had only been a few weeks and whilst things between you and Cassian had never been better the opposite was true for Azriel. Of course the three of you had fallen into bed together numerous times since the bond clicked. But you couldn’t help but feel like he was only going along with it all for Cassian’s sake.

“Listen, Az and I have been mates for a long time.” He brushes his fingers along your cheek. “We found a way of… managing our relationship. He’s just still trying to figure out how you fit into that.”

“He gave up my training. He no longer visits the library in the afternoons. He stopped consulting me on intel.” You pout not convinced by his words.

“Let me show you something. Do you trust me?” A wicked grin appears on his face.

“Of course.” You straighten, intrigued by the mischievous glint in his eye.

“I need you to block out your bond to Azriel. Just like you’ve been practising.”

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

Cassian trails his fingers down your bare ribs, your fingers curl into the sheets beneath you as you focus on keeping the shield in your mind in place.

“Good girl, now if you need me to stop at any point I want you to use the safe word.” He murmurs into your skin as he leaves soft kisses along your hip.

“Safe word?” You squirm a little, eager to have him pay attention to the ache between your legs.

He smirks up at you and though you’ve been bare before him so many times now it still sends a flush across your skin. “A safe word is for whe-”

“I know what a safe word is Cass!” You smack his shoulder for the second time today. “What’s the safe word?”

“Stardust.” He murmurs and then immediately licks a stripe up your core, flicking your clit with his tongue. You throw your head back against the pillow and let out a soft moan.

You’d had lovers before but had never quite found you enjoyed receiving oral the way you did with your thighs wrapped around the head of one of your mates. Their tongues devoured you in ways you’d never experienced before, soft where you needed, hard where it counted and always so warm.

Cassian quickly works you to the edge and you swear small white spots begin to swim behind your closed lids. You feel your core begin to tighten as Cassian quickly pulls away.

You let out a small whine and glare up at him as he holds himself over you, grinning like an idiot.

“Still have that wall in place sweetheart?” He cocks his head to the side. You quickly check the shield between you and Azriel is still in place.

“Yes, but why did you stop?” You pout.

“Good things come to those who wait.” He chuckles, leaning down, capturing your bottom lip between his teeth. He kisses you softly, slowly, savouring the moment and you can taste yourself on his lips. Soon his fingers find your sensitive clit and your hips unintentionally grind up to meet his movements. Your hands grab at thick biceps covered in Illyrian swirls, giving you purchase for more movement. You pant in soft moans as Cassian kisses down your chest, reaching a nipple and sucking it into his mouth. He quickly works you to the edge again. 

“Oh god, please” You whine at his assault.

He leaves one nipple to nip at the tight bud of the other and just when you feel like you could shatter he pulls his hand away. “Cass” Your voice a soft whimper at your lost pleasure.

“Do you need me to stop baby girl?” His voice is a soft gravel, almost daring you to ask him to stop.

“No, I need you to not stop.” You give him a small shove and he tumbles to the side pulling you on top of him as he spins.

“Don’t worry baby, I’m giving you exactly what you need.” His eyes sparkle with mischief but you don’t have time to question it as he guides your hips down onto his length. Your head tips back gently with a moan as you adjust to the stretch of him.

It could be centuries and you’d never get used to the feeling of him entering you. His thick length slides into you, filling you completely. You begin to rise on your knees, aching for the friction of him inside you.

“Mmmm, ride me baby, I’m all yours.” Cassian pants beneath you, his eyes screwed shut savouring the feel of you wrapped around him.

You plant your hands on his chest, bouncing up and down as his hips roll to meet yours. Already worked to the edge twice, you can feel the coil tightening inside of you. A series of small whimpers escape your lips as Cassian palms at your hips and your chest. You can feel his head drag across your soft walls, building pressure exactly where you need it. Suddenly Cassian is  coming with a groan. His fingers digging tightly into your hips as you feel him pulse inside you. You bite your lip unsure what to do. You're glad you could bring your mate pleasure but he’d never finished before you, Hel these males usually made you come undone twice before they were finished with you.

“Relax baby girl.” Cassian reaches up and releases your bottom lip with a gentle swipe of his thumb. “I said I’d get you what you needed and I meant it.”

He reaches across the bed to his discarded shirt and begins pulling it over your head.

“Keep that shield in place and go find our mate.” He gives you a wink before helping you off the bed with a small smack to your ass.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------

You pad down the hall towards Azriel’s office. The soft glow of the rising moon outside reminding you that you were still yet to eat. And you were hungry, famished, but for something that no food could satiate. Your shadow slides along the wall catching your eye and you wonder what kind of picture you paint right now. Bed tangled hair, Cassian’s oversized shirt falling off one shoulder and his cum slowly sliding down your inner thigh.

You reach Azriel’s door, hold your breath a little and push it open without knocking. He’s bent over his paperwork, hair tousled slightly from running his hands through it, wings slouching a little behind him. At first he doesn’t look up from his work.

“I’ll be just a few more minut-” You see the moment your mingled scents reach him. His whole body stiffens, his head snaps up to take you in, his pupils blow wide like a predator that’s just spotted its favourite prey and the pen in his hand snaps in half.

He moves faster than you've ever seen and has you pinned to the wall in a second.

Azriel leans forward and whispers across your neck “I was wondering what you two were up to when the bonds cut off.”

You can’t even form words as Azriel consumes every sense. His warm body pressed against yours, his right leg nestled against your core. His scent sends your brain into overdrive and all you can manage is a small whimper as you roll your hips against his thigh.

“I can smell his seed on you sweetheart, did he not satisfy you enough?” His voice is deep and rumbling. His wings are flared out behind him blocking you from the empty room as his shadows make agitated swirls along his wings.

“Please Az, he didn’t let me.” You grab the front of his leathers pulling yourself closer to him as your hips continue to find friction on his thigh.

Azriel freezes. He becomes so still you wonder if he’s even breathing. You pull back and find that his eyes are almost completely black, his shadows have slowed to a crawl behind him, like a snake coiled for attack. A shiver runs down your spine as you realise you're staring into the stone cold eyes of the Night Courts Spymaster. You silently berate yourself for wanting him more for it.

He pushes off the wall and you instantly miss the feel of him against you but he slides his fingers around your wrist as he pulls you from the room.

“I’m going to fucking kill him, I swear.” He snarls as he leads you back down the hall to your room.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------

Just as Azriel turns to enter the bedroom one of his shadows snaps out and wraps itself around Cassian's neck. 

“You wanted my attention?” Azriel curls his free hand into a fist and the shadow tightens around his airway. Cassian sits up in the bed and attempts to pull the shadow away, struggling for air.

“Now you have it.” Azriel snarls, dropping your wrist and striding towards the bed.

“Az don’t hurt him!” You cry out and try to tug Azriel backwards.

The shadow loosens but remains looped around Cassian's neck. He pulls in gasping breaths that match Azriel's heaving chest as he towers over the end of the bed.

I’m okay baby girl, he’s not going to hurt me. Cassian’s gruff voice enters your mind.

Y/N you should go clean up while I deal with him. With the bond now open Azriel’s cool tone slides into your mind as well.

But- You begin a little unsure but you’re quickly interrupted.

She knows the safe word, she doesn’t have to go anywhere. Cassian sits up straighter glaring at Azriel in challenge.

More of Azriel’s shadows begin to crawl along the bed.

Why does she know the safe word? Azriel seethes.

You stand frozen watching the back and forth between them.

Well I wasn’t going to edge her without the safe word was I? Cassian cocks his head to the side and you swear you see a vein pop in Azriel’s neck.

Azriel spins and you duck a little to avoid his outstretched wings.

“How many times?” His dark eyes now fall to you.

Cassian replies before you can “It was onl-”

The shadow around Cassian’s neck slides onto his face, gagging him. Other shadows pounce from the mattress and swirl around his wrists pinning him down.

“I swear to the Cauldron if you fucking speak again.” Azriel growls over his shoulder. He stands before you, the picture of death. Dark wings splayed across the room, hands balled into fists, muscles strung tight. And you're surprised to find your voice does not waiver as you reply.

“Three times.”

“Y/N it’s up to you if you want to stay or go.” He nods sharply and turns back to face Cassian, giving you the opportunity to slip out of the room without a fuss if needed. Instead you slip past him, climb onto the bed above Cassian’s head and rest against the headboard. Both their eyes trail your movements before Azriel’s land on Cassian again.

“So you think you can take pleasure from my mate and leave her unsatisfied?” Azriel begins loosening the top of his leathers as he paces around the bed. He reaches for the sheet that is still covering Cassian’s bottom half and whips it away.

“Figures you’d be hard again, you always were a fucking whore. Maybe you’ve lost your touch? Couldn’t keep it up long enough for Y/N to get off?” He breathes a sinister chuckle.

A low growl ripples through Cassian’s chest, still gagged and bound by shadows, at the insinuation.

“Would you like to help me teach him a lesson love?” Azriel questions you as he removes the top half of his leathers and undershirt sending muscles rippling.

Your mouth is watering at the sight of him and it’s all you can do to nod dumbly as you reply “Yes please.”

Azriel’s eyes spark in surprise and then the mattress dips beside you as he leans towards you.

“Show me how he used you sweetheart.” His fingers brush gently down the length of your jaw.

You send the images flickering down the bond – of Cassian’s mouth on you, his hands bringing you to the edge and finally of you riding atop him.

Azriel’s eyes are completely black as they flick between yours. Wordlessly he reaches for you and pulls you into his arms. Cut him off baby girl. His deep voice curls in the back of your mind as his soft lips brush against yours. You do as he says, lifting a shield between your mind and Cassian’s.

Cassian’s throat rips open in snarls from where he lays on the bed with the two of you kneeling before him. Your eyes flick across to him, your heart constricting at his distress and you immediately want to reach out to him.

He’s okay. Azriel’s fingers find their way under your chin turning your attention back to him. He’s just swearing at me profusely for cutting him off. First I want to take care of you. He begins to trail kisses down your neck. Then we can deal with him.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------

Cassian watches from the top of the bed as Azriel positions you on all fours. You’re faced towards him, cheeks flushed and pupils blown wide. Cauldron he wishes he wasn’t bound right now.

Give her back. Cassian growls down the bond at Azriel. Furious he’s been shut out from your mind, from your emotions, with you so close.

You can have her back when I think you deserve it. Azriel snarls as he slides into you from behind. Cassian watches your breath catch, feels you clench at the sheets beneath them and he’s slowly going mad. He struggles against the shadows that pin his wrists to the bed and attempts to shift the shadows that bind his mouth. He’s never been so close to safe wording before. Your proximity but infinite distance pulls and frays at every instinct he has.

Azriel has set a hard and fast pace, bringing you to the edge that Cassian refused to tip you over. And as you come undone with panting whimpers, Cassian bucks his hips into the air with a muffled groan, failing to find the friction his leaking cock is begging for.

Azriel slides out of you, cock still hard and glistening from your release. That’s how you pleasure my mate Cassian. Azriel’s growl filters through the bond.

Fuck you, she’s mine too. Cassian bites back, the only way he can right now.

Oh no, I think I’ll fuck you. He smirks darkly. Eventually.

Azriel gives you a small nod and you crawl forward towards Cassian, and Hel if he was standing he would have gone to his knees at the sight.

Your plush lips wrap around his head and he throws his head back against the pillow, a groan escapes between clenched teeth. Fuck this might be all he needs to survive, forget food and water he’ll live off your touch alone if he needs to.

Your head bobs up and down his length and he can feel the pleasure building. Can feel his muscles tightening, ready to pump his release down his pretty mates throat.

Suddenly Azriel has his hand wrapped in the hair at the nape of your neck pulling you off him with a small pop.

“Good girl, that’s enough.” Azriel purrs into your ear before capturing your mouth with his, sliding his tongue along your lower lip.

Cassian’s chest rises and falls in deep pants. Release me now Azriel or I swear to the Cauldron I’l-

You’ll what? Azriel cocks his head to the side. You’re not really in any position to be making demands.

Azriel releases you then to lie back on the bed. He looms over Cassian, face hovering only inches away, wings flared wide behind him almost blacking out the room. You have a pretty face General, but I want to hear those pretty noises to match. He punctuates his remark by sliding two long fingers inside Cassian.

Cassian’s skin already feels like it’s on fire and Azriel’s assault on that spot inside him might just cause him to combust. He simultaneously wants to throw Azriel through the nearest wall and kiss his stupidly handsome face. Azriel hadn’t let himself take control like this since they had accepted the mating bond with Y/N and Cassian had finally found the right buttons to press -  Y/N’s. Now he was both reaping the benefits and paying the price for it.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------

You lay beside your mates as you take in Azriel at work. The bulge of his arms, the scars that litter his torso criss-cross with Illyrian swirls, the half smirk that graces his lips as he pulls whimpers from Cassian.

Azriel’s eyes are still clouded in darkness, wholly focused on the task at hand which now appears to be Cassian’s punishment.

Long fingers slide in and out of Cassian, stretching him open with every pass. You want to reach out to him, to open the bond and allow your emotions to mingle with his but you don’t want to go against Azriel’s command. This was the control that Cassian had alluded to. The side of Azriel they had kept away from you. The night you found out about the mating bond comes back to you...

‘ You don’t scare me, Shadowsinger. You let admiration flow through the bond along with your words. In a blink of an eye Azriel is crowded over you, arms braced on the sides of your chair.

Really? He smirks down at you in challenge ‘

Should you be afraid right now? Azriel hovers over Cassian propped on an elbow. One hand thrusting inside him the other pulling at the hair from the top of his scalp. He’s grinning down at Cassian’s muffled cries like he might just sink his teeth into his flesh to make him cry out more. His wings a flare out dimming the room and the shadows that hold Cassian down are joined by others that swirl along the bed, slide over muscled bodies, until they appear to be drowning in darkness. 

But Cassian doesn’t fight for the surface, his head is thrown back as moans of pleasure reverberate through his chest like he’d willingly give his last breath for Azriel to keep going. Suddenly you watch Cassian stiffen, his eyes shooting open as Azriel stills. You’re sure more violent words are exchanged between them as Azriel once again denies Cassian of his release.

Your skin tingles at the sight and without an ounce of fear, you realise that maybe you want to drown in the darkness too.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------

Cassian’s eyes flick to you as you move across the bed but you keep your gaze locked to Azriel. You slide a hand across his shoulder and he rises at your gentle command, settling onto his knees. Your focus never wavers as you settle yourself across Cassian’s waist towards the shadowsinger. His grin is gone and he watches your every movement carefully. You let your eyes wander down his toned chest, watch his abs flex under your gaze before landing on his thick length. Azriel’s hard cock brushes his stomach, the thick vein running along the underside revealed to you. His cock hovers only inches from Cassian’s which is flushed red as you watch a bead of precum swell at the tip. With them both straining before you, you can’t help but imagine what it would be like to take them both at the same time. To have them filling you, stretching you -

Oh sweetheart, say the word and your wish is my command. Azriel purrs. Your eyes flick to meet black ones as you lift yourself from your perch on Cassian’s chiselled torso, giving him the perfect view of your ass, before sinking down on his length. His hips make a feeble attempt to meet yours but Azriel is upon you, strong calloused hands gripping your hips and holding you down.

Azriel’s mouth captures yours, nipping and sucking at your bottom lip. His rough hands explore your body, sliding over soft skin and cupping your breasts. You let out a small whimper at the all consuming sensation of one mate stretching you open while the other runs expert hands along every nerve. Azriel pulls back, a short growl rolling from his chest.

“What’s wrong?” You pant softly. “He won’t keep quiet.” His eyes flick over your shoulder momentarily at Cassian. The lord of bloodshed was never one to go quietly, so you can only imagine what he’s throwing down the bond at Azriel right now. Azriel takes up your hands in his and places them on his shoulders. He leans forward, lips brushing your neck and murmurs “Hold on sweetheart.” Your fingers flex into thick muscle as he leans into you.

“You want more General?” He snarls over you before lifting Cassian’s hips slightly. The movement forces him even deeper inside you and you can’t help the moan that escapes your lips. Without warning Azriel slams into him. Cassian lets out a muffled cry that you hope is more pleasure than pain.

“Is that enough for you?” Azriel chuckles darkly. Azriel’s large hands envelop your waist once more as he guides you up and down on Cassian in time with his own thrusts. You let yourself go, let Azriel use your body to pleasure Cassian as all you can focus on is your own. When you find yourself on the edge again Azriel’s gentle purr is there.

Drop your shield, let him feel all of you Y/N.

You do as he says, dropping your mental shield and finally opening the bond to Cassian again. A flood of emotion washes over you, of relief, anger, envy, happiness all swirling together but the prevailing sense of lust is all consuming.

Cassian’s emotions tangling with your own is overwhelming and that coil building inside of you snaps. You fall willingly into the dark abyss of your release. Seeing you reach your climax has both of your mates falling after you and soon the only sound in the room is the mix of panting breaths.

Azriel recalls his shadows and immediately Cassian claims you. He grabs your sides and twists you towards him, lips laying kisses to any piece of skin in his reach.

Y/N? Cassian’s low timbre reverberates in your mind, soft and timid.

I’m here Cass. You run your fingers through his soft hair, doing your best to calm him. Are you okay?

Never better sweetheart. His fingers trace circles on your back. Just need you here. Need you close.

Having the bond cut off had obviously taken a toll on him, like a carrot on a stick Azriel had dangled you in front of him the entire time.

You are far tastier than a carrot my love. I just need a few minutes to recentre. Also I’m afraid if I let you go I’ll make good on some of the nastier promises I made Az. His broad chest bounces beneath you with his chuckle.

Yes you were starting to get rather creative towards the end there. Azriel chuckles along with him. I’ll get you both some water.

Azriel’s weight lifts from the bed as you lean down and kiss Cassian softly.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------

So, this is what you’ve both been keeping from me? You slowly trace the Illyrian tattoos along Cassian’s chest with your fingertips. He ponders the ceiling for a moment before responding.

When we first met Azriel at the Illyrian camps, he was untrained, never learnt to fly and had a darkness that trailed after him. His mouth quirks with a smile, obviously remembering the time fondly. However your bottom lip juts out in a pout, recalling why it was so in the first place.

After bein- Cassian paused for a moment After the childhood he had, having never known a sense of control, his untamed power would just take over. He ended up in twelve fights in his first week at camp.

Cassian leaned down, absentmindedly brushing his lips to the top of your head.

Shortly after the mating bond snapped we discovered a way for him to manage. An outlet that gave him full control when he felt himself slipping into the darkness. Everyone thought his new friendship and proximity to the future High Lord was the cause of the change. That he was now able to maintain focus, control and wield his power better than ever. Only Rhys and I knew the truth.

It was very generous of you, to become that for him. You smile softly.

Cassian breaks out into a deep laugh, the vibrations tingling your skin.

Oh no, it wasn’t generosity at all. He grins widely. My horny ass got me caught out after Az got in a fight with Rhys one night. His eyes went dark, shadows flying, solid muscle straining in flight leathers. He looked as if death came to walk the earth and I got fucking hard. He laughs again at himself. Az scented it and jumped me, Rhys couldn’t winnow away fast enough. I guess you could say the darkness called to me.

I think I know the feeling. You giggled to yourself. Cassian raised a hand to your chin, pulling your eyes to his dazzling grin still wide.

And that is why we are made for each other my love. He pulls you in for another lingering kiss.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------

Azriel softly pads back to the bedroom with two glasses in hand. He’d stopped at his room to throw on soft pants and a light shirt even though he didn’t want to be away from either of you for a second. It felt strange not being the one comforting Cassian right now but he knew that Y/N was what he needed. Especially after he had made her withhold the bond. Azriel pulls his bottom lip between sharp teeth. He has to admit that was dark, even for him. But Cassian never truly wavered and that scared him a little. One day he was going to do something that caused Cassian to truly snap and there would be no going back.

Azriel reaches your bedroom door and takes in the sight of his mates tangled together. Y/N half sprawled over Cassian, hair fanned across his chest. Cassian’s hand resting possessively on your hip, holding you to him even as you rested in a state between sleep and awake. He doesn’t know how long he stands there taking them in. Gods they look like they were made for eachother. Like they were poured from the Cauldron in the same moment and have only now found their way back to each other. Both so beautiful, strong and filled with light.

He catches one of his shadows sliding along the bed to you both and his heart freezes. In your combined blooms of light his shadow is the thorny vine. The weed that is pruned as to not cause destruction and decay to the beauty.

Azriel stumbles back towards the hall. How did he not see it? For so long he thought the Cauldron had made a mistake in giving him Cassian. And of course he never deserved a second mate, especially not one as brilliant as Y/N. And now here was the proof.

Perhaps he was a placeholder until you and Cassian could meet? Perhaps he was a mistake altogether? Whatever the reason, he saw it clearly now. He didn’t belong between you, he was a burden to be shouldered and you both deserved so much more. You deserved each other. He slipped from the room completely.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s the suffocating warmth that has you rolling away from Cassian. You’re sure he runs ten degrees hotter than any normal being. You slide your fingers along the sheets searching for the cool touch of your shadowsinger, only to come up empty. You sit up scanning the dark room but don’t find a single shadow out of place.

Azriel never returned with the waters he promised and there are no glasses on the bedside table to suggest he returned at all. Cassian mumbles into the pillow beside you as you pull his discarded shirt over your head for the second time tonight. You swing your legs off the bed and pad down the hall.

You approach the dim light of the kitchen to find a note pinned beneath a blade on the kitchen counter. Panic begins to set in, your heart pounding in your chest. You hear a commotion down the hall and pray to the Cauldron that it’s Azriel who will appear to quiet the noise pulsing in your head.

But it’s Cassian who stumbles into the kitchen next to you. Sensing your distress he’d obviously lept from the bed only pausing long enough to collect his underwear and a blade.

“What’s wrong?” He pants eyes darting around the room, assessing for a threat. You nod towards the note on the counter not trusting your voice.

He approaches it cautiously, as if it could jump from the surface and attack at any moment. He pushes the blade aside, picks up the note and reads it in the time it takes for you to figure out how to breathe again.

You watch as Cassian’s wings fall. The tips dragging on the ground. He reads the note again as if that will change anything about its contents.

His hand falls and he steps towards you, handing you the note.

“He’s gone.” His low voice rumbles.

My love,

Forgive me. I hope this letter remains in one piece long enough for you to read but I can understand if you do not grant me such a privilege. I never thought I would need to say goodbye to you, as you are my home. But I can not jeopardise your safety, Y/N’s safety, any longer.After centuries my darkness still remains unpredictable and for so long you have been its balm. Somehow you have kept the shadows inside me at bay. 

But now my darkness threatens your new light. Y/N is everything you have always deserved. She is warmth, calm, serenity and whilst I wish beyond anything to bask in that light along with you I cannot take that risk.

I know I do not have the right to ask anything of you now but I beg of you to take care of her. Be her protector where I cannot, be the strength she needs and the mate I cannot be. Until my last breath I will be yours.

Always. Azriel.

“He’s gone.” You manage to choke out.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------

Azriel scratches another line into the rough rock wall. Three months. It’s been three months since he left and he’s not sure how he’s still breathing.

Originally he planned to flee the Night Court entirely, settle far away perhaps on the continent. But he couldn’t bring himself to even cross the border.

He could stay close, he told himself. He could embody the shadows that are loyal to him, become a part of the darkness. From this small cave in the mountainside he could watch over Velaris, monitor for danger. Maybe one day he’d even have the strength to return to the city, moving between the shadows only to catch a glimpse of his mates on an errand. 

He could see it now, Cassian trailing after Y/N complaining about carrying all of the gifts you’d buy for Starfall. You’d give some witty reply and then stand on tiptoes to place a kiss on his cheek.

Starfall. It was tonight. Azriel’s eyes traced the sky as if he’d already catch a glimpse of those dazzling lights in the waning evening light. He’d never been apart from Cassian on this night, he’d never even had the chance to properly spend it with Y/N. But you had each other and you would be safe from him. 

He rubs at his chest. His heart straining behind his ribs, as if it feels betrayed by him, as if it will leave him here in this cave and return to his mates alone. Azriel takes a steadying breath and steps back into the darkness of the cave. He wouldn’t go back. They were better without him.

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

You stood on the balcony of the eerily quiet House of Wind. On Starfall your home was usually a buzz of activity but this year Rhysand had moved the festivities to his river house to give you some peace and quiet.

But the quiet was suffocating as you stood alone. One mate was missing and the other…

Cassian had become a shadow of himself. After Azriel left he trained less, took on less missions from Rhys and eventually stopped leaving his room.

Every morning you bought him food, every evening you curled up with him and told him of your day but you could feel him slipping from you.

His once dark black wings had begun to fade to an ashy grey. On the days he dressed his sirens remained dull and lifeless. You were lost on what more you could do. You were losing him.

Tears roll down your cheeks and reflect the first tumbling lights of Starfall. An all encompassing sadness washes over you, your lungs becoming tight and it slowly becomes harder to breathe. It was as if your emotions were too much for one person to hold.

Your breath catches in your throat. It couldn’t be?

Azriel? You reach out.

After months of Azriel having the bond shutdown you didn’t realise when he’d crept back in. You try to reach for more but you feel his presence sliding away.

No. He had to stay. You couldn’t keep going on like this. You throw down the bond the one thing that might get him to stay.

I think Cassian is dying. You let out a sob. Azriel he’s fading and I don’t know what to do.

One moment you're watching the stars fall from the sky, the next they’re blacked out by a pair of wings high above you. The Illyrian drops sharply from the sky and lands heavily next to you, vibrations sent rumbling through the stone.

“Az?” You whisper.

Azriel straightens from his landing. He looks disheveled, hair askew, dark circles permanently embedded under even darker eyes.

“I know I don’t deserve-“ he doesn’t look at you as he speaks. “What’s wrong with him? Was he poisoned? Injured?” He stares out over the balcony and you can see his jaw clench.

“You left.” You growl out.

“That’s not important right no-“ He snarls

“No! You. Left. Azriel. That’s what’s wrong with him.” You throw the images down the bond. Cassian slumped in his chair. Of his fading complexion. Wings barely lifted from the floor.

Azriel flinches at the sight. Then he finally looks at you. Tears welling in his eyes.

“I had to Y/N.” He swallows thickly. “My nature is literally the depths of darkness. I skate a thin line of control and I can’t afford to fall from that ledge now that there is you.”

“Az-“ You move to step toward him.

“No.” Azriel shakes his head and side steps further from you. “You don’t understand. Cassian is whole and good and light. He is the moon. And you. You are his stars. You are two of the same. Meant for each other.” He grips the balcony's ledge so tightly the scars of his hands bloom white. Your emotions are at war inside you. You are furious that he left, joyful that he has returned and heart broken that he doesn’t see himself the way you do.

“If Cassian is the moon and I am the stars then Azriel you are our night sky.” You move to him now, resting your hands lightly on his forearm. The note he left that night beginning to make sense. “Your darkness doesn’t dim our light, it’s the reason for our brightness. Your darkness is the blanket in which we rest, the sanctuary in which we relied upon.” You take a steadying breath.

You begin to step back, to give him some space “But if your heart does not beat for us the way-“

Azriel’s hand snaps to your wrist and suddenly you find yourself wrapped in his arms, your face burrowed in his chest. His lips brush against the top of your head.

“Do not. For a second. Insinuate that I don’t think of you both in every second of every day.” You hold him infinitely closer at his words.

Time stretches on between you as you stand in each other's arms. Eventually you pull back.

“I need to tell Cassian that you’re here.” Azriel releases you from his arms and immediately you want to go back to him.

“You will stay?” You ask wary that as soon as you turn he will disappear again.

He nods. “I’ll wait to see him.”

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

The door clicks closed on Cassian’s room as you step back into the hall. You find Azriel there waiting for you.

“He said” you pause.

“He doesn’t want to see me.” Azriel finishes unsurprised.

“Yes.” You admit quietly.

“It’s okay Y/N. He’s always been a stubborn ass.” His lips lift in a soft smirk. “I deserve much worse.” His wings fall and he turns to walk back down the hall. You quickly follow not wanting to let him out of your sight.

He pulls a chair out from the dining table and slumps into it. Instead of taking a seat of your own, you move to stand between his legs. He welcomes you into his space, hands finding your hips as your fingers brush across a stubbled jaw.

“I want to stay.” He whispers, dark eyes meeting yours.

“Then stay Azriel.” You whisper back. Letting your fingers trail across his face, committing every line and freckle to memory.

“How will you forgive me?” He turns to brush his lips along your palm. “How will he?”

“Just give it some time Azriel. He needs to know that you are staying for good. That you are committed to this.” You can’t bring yourself to say that you need it too, but you can see in Azriel’s eyes that he understands.

You stand in peace for a moment. Azriel was far from forgiven but he was here, back in your arms, back where he belonged.

“I’ll take the dedication.” Azriel nods after a moment, as if all is decided.

“The dedication?” You take a half step back trying to read his face.

“It’s an old Illyrian custom, the greatest act of commitment of one Illyrian to another.” He stands from the chair and takes your hands in his.

“It’s a sacrifice I will make for him and for you. I don’t expect either of you to forgive me right away but it’s a start.” His eyes are determined as they flick between yours.

He brings your hands to his lips and kisses each of them gently.

“I have to go to Windhaven. But I’ll be back soon.” He releases your hands and goes to move away.

“Wait.” You put a hand to his chest. “If this dedication is so important why haven’t you or Cassian taken it before?”

“Cassian wouldn-” He pauses. “It’s an outdated tradition. It’s rarely completed anymore. But I promise Y/N.” He steps forward and places a light kiss to your cheek “I’ll be back.”

He disappears over the closest balcony and a sinking feeling won’t leave your gut. Azriel is desperate to fix things between the three of you. What if this dedication is dangerous? What if he doesn’t return because he no longer can?

Azriel had said it was an old tradition no a sacrifice, but of what? He said that Cassian wouldn’t… No. This is bad. Whatever this dedication was Cassian didn’t want it from Azriel, which meant it was definitely dangerous. And Cassian was in no state to stop him. You did the only thing you could think to do.

Rhysand!

—-------------------------------------------------------------------

Rhys arrived at the house only moments later, his deep velvet suit twinkling with the lights of Starfall. Within the Night Court you could usually always reach him, but given recent events he had been extra vigilant of you and Cassian.

“I’m sorry to pull you from your family tonight.” You apologise.

“You are all part of my family. Is he okay?” Rhys tilts his head in consideration.

“Cass is fine. What’s the dedication?” You rush out.

“What? How do you know about dedication?” He looks at you with wide eyes and gods that cannot be good.

“Azriel’s back. Cassian wouldn’t see him and he’s gone to Windhaven to take the dedication. What is it? Is it another Rite?” The more you talk the whiter Rhys’ face becomes. And then he’s furious.

“That fucking fool.” Rhysand’s wings burst forth and he pivots heading back the way he came, to the stairs to the rooftop.

“Rhys?” You rush after him, taking the stairs two at a time.

“The dedication is an ancient Illyrian tradition. Usually performed by females.” His low growls echo through the stone stairwell. “It’s the ultimate act of submission of one Illyrian to another.”

Your stomach rolls at the implications. If the Illyrians no longer performed this dedication then it had to be truly barbaric.

“What act?” You pant out as Rhys reaches the door to the roof.

He turns to you briefly, “He’s going to remove his wings.”

You freeze. Your body literally locks into place at the top of stairs as Rhysand bursts onto the roof and takes flight, disappearing into the night sky.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------

You don’t know how long you stand there, frozen in place. Azriel was going to remove his wings? Maybe they were already gone?

No. You couldn’t think like that. But why did he think you’d want that? Cassian wouldn’t want that, would he?

A thousand more questions run through your mind before your trance is broken by the appearance of two bodies in the sky above you.

Suddenly one body shoves away from the other and two pairs of Illyrian wings are silhouetted by the lights of Starfall.

Thank the Cauldron. Rhysand had reached him in time. You can hear their shouts of arguing far above you, but you can’t make out what’s being said.

You take the moment to reach out to Cassian.

Cass. You feel his warmth wrap around your mind. It always felt like being rugged up near a crackling fire when he reached for you. Azriel took off to Windhaven to take the dedication. He’s okay. Rhysand brought him back. All the warmth leached from your mind and you felt his side of the bond go cold. You let out a breath. You’d deal with that issue later, you could only handle one problem at a time right now.

Rhysand and Azriel were finally gliding back to the roof, both looking furious. As Azriel’s feet touch down you’re almost sent tumbling by a black blur flying past you. Cassian collides heavily with Azriel, sending his back slamming into the wall of the house.

Cassian, now dressed in full Illyrian leather's red sirens flaring brighter than you had seen in weeks, has Azriel pinned with a forearm to his chest.

“What the fuck are you thinking.” He snarls.

Azriel doesn’t even attempt to fight back, he allows himself to be held against the wall, wings flared on either side.

Rhysand takes quick stock of the situation like he’s seen this scenario play out a hundred times before and maybe he had. His eyes find yours and you give him a small nod, giving your thanks and letting him know that you’ll be okay. Rhys takes to the sky once again, returning to his family at the River House.

“You don’t get to reappear after three months and then take off to Windhaven for the dedication!” You’d never seen the fury in Cassian directed at Azriel before.

“What were you going to do huh?” He doesn’t wait for Azriel to respond. His voice raises as he becomes more desperate “Go through all that pain, retrain for weeks to adjust to the change in balance, just to rejoin a battle and leave yourself vulnerable? You enter a ward and you don’t winnow out! Did you think about that? That you wouldn’t be able to leave the ground anymore? That you wouldn’t be able to get out? That you wouldn’t be able to get her out?” Cassian tosses his head back in your direction. Azriel's eyes flick from Cassian to you and you can tell he hadn’t thought about it. That type of combat was Cassian’s forte. Those are the things that Cassian would always think about first.

“For what Azriel?” He lifts his forearm and slams it back into his chest.

“For you!” Azriel finally shouts back. “For you and for her. I would gladly deliver my wings to you on a silver platter if it meant you would even look in my direction again.”

“What?” Cassian steps back stunned.

“I left because I thought you’d both be better off without me.” Azriel pushes from the wall.

An image of you and Cassian tangled in bed together floods your vision and you realise it’s from the night Azriel left. You watch as his attention is drawn to one of his shadows crawling towards your resting figures and you know that's the moment he decided to leave.

You immediately answer with a memory of your own. With the conversation that directly preceded Azriel’s perspective.

He looked as if death came to walk the earth and I got fucking hard. Casian laughs at himself. Az scented it and jumped me, Rhys couldn’t winnow away fast enough. I guess you could say the darkness called to me.

I think I know the feeling. You giggled to yourself. Cassian raised a hand to your chin, pulling your eyes to his, dazzling grin still wide.

And that is why we are made for each other my love. He pulls you in for another lingering kiss.

You let the memory fade and you’re all brought back to the roof.

“You said we were the moon and the stars,” Cassian cocks his head in consideration as you step forward. And you already know you’ll have to fill him in on that conversation later. “But left to our own devices we burn each other out. You are the diffuser. You are the solace that cradles the light, that controls the burn.” You take his hand in yours, letting all the love and concern you have for him slide down the bond.

“If you thought she was made for me and I for her you were wrong.” Cassian’s voice is hoarse from the yelling. “We were made for you.”

Azriel’s eyes well with tears.

“And you walked away.” Cassian turns back to the house, all the fight now depleted from him.

Azriel bows his head in defeat.

“Cassian.” Azriel begs.

Cassian stills halfway to the door.

“I want to come home.” Azriel’s voice breaks.

“Then come home.” Cassian tosses over his shoulder before striding back into the house.

---------------------------------------------------------------------- a/n: So I think I'm incapable of writing a happy endings at this point, but Part 3 maybe?

taglist: @mira-says @thesunloveschips @georgiadixon @blackgirlmagicforever @samslittlespoon @pit-and-the-pen @wolvesnravens @bokukenmakuroo

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the series taglist ✨

[yanderecrazysie]

Twisted Zoo: Ending 7 - Dripping Venom

Warnings: yandere themes

Note: Sorry this is late, also boa constrictors are disturbing

You had been asked by Mr. Crowley to spend the entire next day with the snakes. You had no idea why, but you couldn’t argue with the owner of the zoo. Plus, it would be great to research them.

You turned on a documentary about boa constrictors, hoping to learn more about Kalim and, later, Jamil.

“When the male feels inclined to breed, he begins to crawl over the female and flicks his tongue at the body of his object of desire. The female usually tries to escape the intentions of the male by crawling away. This leads to a situation, in which the male chases the female through the enclosure until she no longer escapes. Once she finally holds still, the male coils his tail around hers and attempts to force-”

You turned off the TV, face burning. That was extremely disturbing, you thought, why would nature make them mate like that?

Deciding to skip the viper special, you laid back on your bed and fell asleep immediately. When you woke the next morning, you could have sworn you had had a nightmare about two shadowy figures stalking you through a dark alley, but the memory disappeared quickly.

You got up and got ready. Once you were in uniform and were smelling fresh, you slipped on your boots and opened the front door.

Something shot forward, grabbing you and knocking you to the ground. You tried to scream, but the air had been knocked out of your chest. It took a moment for you to recognize the figures now making their way curiously into your home.

“Jamil?” you managed to ask, absolutely stunned, “Kalim? What are you doing here?”

The two snake halflings looked down at you, amused. Kalim offered a hand to you and you took it, standing up to stare at the two.

“Mr. Crowley told you you’d be spending the day with us.” Jamil said matter-of-factly, “So we’re here to spend the day with you.”

“In my home?” you were shocked, “How did you even get here?”

Kalim gave you a hug, “I’m so happy! We get to see your enclosure this time!” he paused, looking you up and down, “Why are you wearing your uniform? Is that all the clothing you own? I thought humans wore multiple outfits!”

“It’s clear that Mr. Crowley did not explain fully,” Jamil chuckled.

Kalim looked crestfallen for a moment before brightening up, “Well, now that we’re here, what are we going to do today?”

You hesitated. Obviously, you couldn’t just bring them outside somewhere- people would freak out. They would have to stay in your house- which didn’t have a lot to do.

However, the two snakes were already entertained. They were going around your bedroom, gently touching objects they had clearly never seen before. 

Kalim touched a lamp that was touch-based and jumped when it turned on. His startled expression melted into an amused one as he poked it over and over, making the lightbulb flash.

Jamil, on the other hand, seemed fascinated by your decor. He looked over the small Japanese shrine model and another statue that looked like a Chinese temple. “Where did you get these?” 

“They used to be my parents’,” you replied, albeit a little sadly, “They liked collecting models of Asian architecture.”

“I see,” Jamil replied, “I would love to see these places in person.”

“Me too,” you said with a soft smile.

Kalim wandered over to the TV and poked the screen, “What is this box?”

“Oh, that’s a TV!” you said, “That’s really the only entertainment I have to share with you both…”

“How does it work?” Jamil asked curiously. 

You grabbed the remote from the nightstand and clicked the power button. Immediately, the TV turned on to the last DVD you had put it- a nature documentary about all kinds of snakes. It was currently featuring cobras.

Kalim’s eyes widened in surprise, “Woah! That snake stands up! And spits venom!”

Jamil crossed his arms, amused, “Cobras are powerful creatures. I’m not surprised humans are fascinated with them.”

Kalim sat on the edge of the bed with difficulty, “Can we watch more?”

“Of course!” you laughed, “I have a lot of nature documentaries. Maybe you’d want to learn more about deserts or the arctic?”

Jamil was intrigued, “Humans have so much information about animals, but rarely live among them.”

“Well, we don’t have fangs or claws and we’re kinda squishy,” you explained, “Most of us could never survive in the wilderness.”

Kalim grinned, “That’s okay, you have us now to protect you.”

Jamil shot him a look that you couldn’t decipher. Kalim ignored him and asked, “Do you have anything sweet to eat? Like the donuts?”

You thought for a moment, “I could make some cookies?”

“Okay!” Kalim said enthusiastically.

You went into the kitchen and pulled the cookie squares from the fridge. You flattened them against a tray and placed them in the oven. You set a timer, then walked back into your bedroom to check on the halflings.

Kalim had moved to the floor, right in front of the TV, completely engrossed in whatever the TV was saying. Jamil had coiled himself on the bed, watching with interest as well. 

You waited until the timer went off and took the cookies out to cool. 

“What was that noise? Are you okay?” Kalim slithered into the kitchen and you laughed a little.

“Yes, it was just an alarm telling me the cookies were done baking.”

Kalim reached for one and you smacked his hand away with a spatula, “They’re still hot! You’ll burn yourself!”

He pouted for a moment, staring hard at the cookies as though that would cool them off faster. Finally, you scooped the cookies onto a plate and brought them to the bedroom, Kalim on your nonexistent tail.

Jamil took one cookie and thanked you. Kalim, on the other hand, grabbed a handful and began shoving them into his mouth. You laughed and rolled your eyes.

The three of you watched as the documentary talked about pythons next, showing scenes of a jungle where snakes decorated the tree branches. You looked at Jamil and Kalim, wondering if either of them missed their home, but they just seemed intrigued, not sad.

There was a sudden knock on the door. You got up and opened it, finding four zookeepers on your doorstep. “We’re here to pick up the snakes.”

You blinked in surprise, realizing it was already getting dark. “Of course, come in.”

“Kalim! Jamil! It’s time for you to go home,” you said, feeling like a mother sending kids home after a slumber party.

In one orchestrated moment, you felt your body being squeezed and hot breath on your shoulder. It took a moment to realize what was going on. Kalim had wrapped his tail around you, squeezing your lower body and Jamil had his venom-filled fangs centimeters from plunging into your neck.

“G-guys?” you stammered, frozen in fear. The zookeepers were equally frozen.

“Leave us alone or she dies,” Jamil snapped.

Mr. Crowley pushed forward, “What’s the delay?” He stopped at the sight and simply said, “Ah…”

“She belongs to us now,” Kalim said fiercely. It was perhaps the first time Jamil and Kalim actually were on the exact same page, and it frightened you to your core.

“But why not bring her with you?” Mr. Crowley asked smoothly, “Then you can be home and have her all to yourselves.”

“Wha-” your reply was choked out of you as Kalim tightened even more around you, making it hard to breathe.

“Yes, but bring the TV,” Jamil agreed, “She should have something to entertain herself with. And no more rats and mice- she needs proper meals.”

Mr. Crowley stepped forward and they shook hands, “Deal.”

No one cared about what you wanted, especially as the zookeepers loaded you into a cage inside a large van. Jamil and Kalim cuddled close to you, gently avoiding the bruises all over you from Kalim’s rough treatment.

You were terrified after watching that boa constrictor documentary and you were terrified of Jamil’s deadly fangs. They were both ready to kill you in negotiation, weren’t they? Yet, they treated you so gently now.

You let out a sob, “I want to go home!”

“You’ll be home soon,” Kalim soothed you, “Your new home.”

You couldn’t tell if they didn’t care enough or if the problem was simply that they cared too much.

[lucithornz]

Some people need AI to make their fics this isn't as cut and dry and you and your friends are making it out to be. It's a tool that helps people be creative. Please try to be more open minded

I really don't want to dignify this with a full response because I feel like I have made my points clear on this issue.

HOWEVER

It's all fun and games until you need your precious little AI to write a fanfiction about your characters building a pipe bomb

[ursie]

Brennan’s statement on Palestine :

[ ID: Statement from Brennan Lee Mulligan, on Instagram. It consists of three black squares with plain white text. The text reads as follows:

"I'm calling on my government officials to immediately demand a ceasefire and de-escalation in Gaza.

I applaud anyone and everyone calling for peace, with the understanding that real peace only exists if it deeply and honestly accounts for and fully ends violence in all its forms. Real peace addresses and corrects wrong-doing in the past and guards against it in the future. It goes hand in hand with justice and requires truth, restoration, reconciliation, reparation.

Peace cannot co-exist with collective punishment, ethnic cleansing and forced displacement. It cannot co-exist with blockades, embargoes, or with 2.2 million people, half of which are children, trapped with no hope of escape or political recourse. it cannot co-exist with murdered journalists, bombed hospitals, or years of protesters being shot and killed at the border. it cannot co-exist with illegal settlements, segregated roads, and the silent, imperial chill that settles over the gaps in the violence - the unspoken geopolitical consensus that a group of people need to unflinchingly accept permanent subjugation and occupation.

My hear breaks for every Israeli person who lost loved ones during the attacks of October 7th. It breaks for every Ukrainian person who has lost their loved ones. It breaks for every Congolese person who has lost their loved ones. I do not speak on behalf of Palestinians now because some lives are worth more than others. I speak on their behalf because I, and all Americans, have a responsibility to pressure our government because we are responsible for this. Some have said that this situation is complicated. The Unites States government clearly disagrees. It has definitively, categorically, militarily chosen a side, and I do not agree with that decision.

In wiring this, I have been wrestling with what I am sure many people like me wrestle with: There is a powerful narrative surrounding violence in the Middle East that asserts and ever-moving goalpost of self-education and study in order to even be qualified to have an opinion. As someone with a love of research, I have at times in my life fallen into the trap that I am not educated enough clever enough, or aware enough to have a worthwhile perspective, and that three more articles and two more lectures and one more book will do the trick. Unfortunately, democracy doesn't work that way - we, the citizens of any democracy, cannot possibly be experts on every aspect of the policies of our governments, and yet if we do not constantly weigh in an make our voices heard, the entire experiment falls apart. Not only do people constantly doubt themselves and the things they can see with their own two eyes, but old shortcuts for political action can fall apart as well: This specific issue exists along a raw, charged and unique faultline in American Politics. Nobody I grew up with has ever challenged me on my support for abortion rights, LGBT rights, Black Lives Matter, anti-capitalism, anti-fascism, none of it. The people in my country who would despise me for those positions are, for all intents and purposes, strangers to me. But there are people who I've broken bread with and shared honest affection with who will see the words I've written here and incorrectly conclude that I do not wish for the security, dignity and happiness of them and their loved ones, and that breaks my fucking heart. Full-throatedly condemning the actions of the Israeli government while battling rampant anti-semitism at home is an urgent moral necessity, and doing so is made unnecessarily challenging for the average person to navigate by the pointed obfuscations of cynical opportunists, bigots, and demagogues on all sides of the political spectrum who see some advantage in sowing that incredibly dangerous confusion.

So, I'm calling my representatives. I'm having hard conversations with friends and family. I'm here, talking to you. I should have done it sooner. If you're Israeli and hurt by this statement, know that I want freedom, dignity, security and peace for you, and that every ounce of my political awareness believes whole-heartedly that the actions of your government are not only destroying innocent lives, but doing so to the detriment of you and your loved ones' safety. If you're American and feel lost and confused - I understand and empathize. This, the whole country, only works when we get involved. I am constantly haunted by the specter that maybe I missed some crucial piece of information on this, or any, important world event. I'll just have to make my peace with that self-doubt and trust my gut by going with Jewish Voice for Peace, Amnesty International, the Geneva Conventions, the United Nations, etc. And if you're Palestinian and reading this: I unreservedly support your right to life, to freedom, to happiness and human flourishing, to full enfranchisement and equal rights, to opportunity, prosperity and abundance, to the restoration of stolen property and land, and to a Free Palestine." End ID ]

[navybrat817]

(Im)Patiently Waiting

Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Single Mom!Reader

Summary: Bucky is trying to patiently wait for your call.

Word Count: Over 1.4k

Warnings: Fluff, slight feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and already whipped, okay?)

A/N: Continuing with Moving in Slow Motion and Heart and Home, the phone call! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky looked down at the phone in his hand. He was never the kind of guy to constantly check his device, but he hadn’t stopped looking at it since he met you. Hell, he checked it while he was still at the museum, hoping for a text or something so he’d have your number, too. He didn’t think it was possible to become whipped so fast, but life still surprised him.

He sighed when the screen went dark. Why hadn’t you called yet? Maybe he came on too strong? He didn’t think he had. Were you just busy? Probably. You had an adorable daughter who needed you love and attention and-

“Bucky!”

His head snapped up to find Steve, his best friend and second-in-command, staring at him. He didn’t look impressed and pursued his lips more when Bucky raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t hear a damn word I said, did you?”

“No,” he replied, not bothering to lie. “Was I supposed to be listening, punk?”

“Yeah, you were, jerk.” Steve ran a hand through his golden hair, plopping down in his chair. “Still hasn’t called yet?”

“Not yet,” he said, setting the phone on the desk in front of him.

“I’m sorry.”

Bucky sighed again, staring off at the books that lined one of the walls of his office. He didn’t divulge much of his personal life to others. It was safer that way, to both protect himself and the people he cared about. But meeting you and your daughter, he told Steve and their small circle all about it. How Sweet Pea bumped into him and his heart melted. How seeing you set his heart on fire.

They were stunned to say the least and were naturally curious about you since you caught his attention. Each of them offered in some way to do their research on you and make sure there was nothing suspicious or dangerous about you, but he refused. His gut instinct told him all he needed to know.

“You know,” Steve began, pulling his attention back. “We can get you her number if-”

He cut him off with a glare. “I already said no,” he growled, taking a breath. He wasn’t going to snap at his best friend. “I’m doing this the right way.”

Bucky was powerful, extremely powerful, but he wouldn’t use his influence over you. It wouldn’t be right. His hands were dirty as it was, and this could be his chance to have something pure.

With his hands up in surrender, Steve nodded. “Sorry. I just… I haven’t seen you like this before and you haven’t even gone on a date with her yet,” he smiled a little. “She must be something special.”

Bucky smiled a little, too. “She is,” he whispered. Things that didn’t make sense before did after he looked in your eyes.

“Yelena will be the judge of that,” the blonde winked.

“Yelena will take one look at Sweet Pea and declare that she’s her aunt,” Bucky teased, both of them chuckling.

If Bucky’s group taught him anything, it was that blood wasn’t always thicker than water. Friends were the family he got to choose. He would defend and protect them with his life. He imagined you were like that with your daughter, perhaps even more.

Who defended and protected you?

A ring echoed in the office and Bucky stared at the device as it lit up. He held his breath when a phone number popped up with no name. His gaze flickered to Steve as it kept ringing. Was it you?

Steve stared back at him like he had grown two heads. “What the hell are you waiting for? Answer it!”

Clearing his throat, he waved for his friend to go, who did so quickly. If it was you, he didn’t want anyone eavesdropping. If it wasn’t you, he didn’t want any witnesses when his face fell.

Releasing his breath, he finally quietly answered, “This is Bucky.”

“Hi, Bucky,” you spoke on the other end, stating your name as well. He slumped in his chair at the sound of your voice, his heart skipping a beat. It was really you. “I don’t know if you remember me, but we met at the science museum.”

“Of course, I remember you. You and Sweet Pea.” He couldn’t forget either of you if he tried and he didn’t want to. Did you think of him as much as he thought of you? “How are you two doing? Did she win the contest?”

“We’re doing just fine. She keeps talking about the museum and wants to go back, but no word if she won the contest or not.” He could hear the smile in your voice and it put a smile on his face, too. “How are you?”

“I’m doing just fine,” he replied, getting up and heading to the sofa so he could relax a bit more. He was better than fine since he was talking to you.

“Sorry it took me a bit to call you.”

Should he admit that he kept checking his phone in anticipation? “No, no. You don’t need to apologize,” he said. You didn’t owe him an explanation either. Whether you were busy with Sweet Pea or you didn’t want to call right away, that was your business. “I’m just glad you called.”

“I am, too.” There was silence on the other end. “So, I, um…” Your nervous giggle was beautifully endearing. “God, I’m really out of practice with this.”

“Practice with what exactly?” he smiled, laying back and looking at the ceiling. He wondered if you were sitting on a sofa, too. Or maybe you were in bed, comfortable, unwinding.

“Talking, I guess. At least with someone outside of work or parenting.” There was that giggle again. He wanted that sound on a loop. “I’m not even sure where to start.”

“Why don’t you start with what you did today?” he suggested.

“That might bore you.”

“I don’t think anything you could say could possibly bore me,” he sincerely said. If you decided to pick up a phone book and read it to him, he’d listen. But he was genuinely interested in your day. The little things would help him get to know you better and build more of that connection, both with who you were as a mother and as a person.

“Okay, but only if you tell me about your day, too,” you said.

“Now my day might bore you,” he chuckled. He wouldn’t start anything with you built on a lie about what he did, but he had to be careful with the truth.

“Mmm. I don’t know. You don’t strike me as a boring kind of guy.”

“Oh, I’m not boring,” he smirked. He would love to show you just how thrilling he could be some time. “But my day might be.”

“Try me,” you smiled.

“Can I ask you something before we talk about our ‘boring’ days?”

“Yeah, anything,” you answered.

Butterflies filled his stomach. Jesus, he was nervous. When was the last time anything made him feel nervous? “Would you like to get a drink with me?”

The pause on your end didn’t soothe his nerves. “A drink?” you repeated, your voice smaller than before. He detected uncertainty, like when he offered you his number.

“Yeah. Coffee at a cafe or wine at a nice restaurant, whatever you want,” he replied, exhaling slowly. He didn’t want to mess up your schedule or over complicate anything for you. “What do you say?”

Bucky stared down the barrel of a gun more than once in his life. He experienced torture. Had come close to death. Waiting for your answer was a different kind of torment. It would either be a killing blow or his saving grace.

“I’d love to get a coffee with you,” you stated, allowing him to properly breathe again. He wanted to pump his fist in the air. “Tomorrow, maybe? Unless that’s too soon. Is it too soon?”

“No, no, that’s great,” he smiled. He couldn’t stop smiling. Even if wasn’t free tomorrow, he’d clear his schedule. “Give me the time and place and I’ll be there.”

“Great.” The uncertainty was long gone. “There’s a cafe not too far from me. I can text you the place and time.”

“I’ll be waiting,” he promised, and he wouldn’t be late. “Now… tell me about your day.”

He was going to soak up every single word until he saw you in the morning.

You called! He's whipped! You have a date! I still need to name this AU. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[sh1-n0bu]

♡︎ 𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙢𝙞𝙚𝙨, 𝙣𝙚𝙬 𝙛𝙪𝙘𝙠 𝙗𝙪𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙚𝙨 ♡︎

characters: sub!AFAB!scar x gn!dom!reader

warnings: dissected organ and blood mentions, fingering, dry humping, squirting, clit pinching, light masochism, overstimulation, bondage, degrading, possessive and obsessive behavior, scar giving off HEAVY yandere vibes, reader has lightning powers so inappropriate use of lightning powers

notes: in loving memory of scar's onigiri manko😔 dividers from cafekitsune. this is a repost since tumblr is being a bitch🙄

being constantly stalked from the shadows can cause a person to do all sorts of things, y'know?

it started out small.

gifts being left at the front of your doorsteps, flowers, bouquets, sweets and snacks even ranging to weapons or things you needed to make a new weapon being left in the same old gift box. red, with white satin tied up in a cute bowtie at the front. you thought it was a cute way for your little secret admirer to notify "hey, it's me again!" to you each time they leave a gift.

but then, it started to get... a bit odd.

the gifts that used to be left at your doorstep with a knock would now be sitting inside your home. on the couch, the kitchen counter, the bed when you sometimes walk into your bedroom or even on the bathroom counter. the same old red colored box with a white satin in its stupid bowtie. as much as you appreciated this gesture of your secret admirer leaving you all sorts of gifts and presents, it had started to become... creepy. the mere thought of this person stalking you, knowing where you live, constantly coming back over and over to leave a gift for you to now downright breaking into your home.

you notified a midnight ranger of course. who in their sane mind would allow this thing to keep happening, even if they do have powers to protect themselves?

two rangers came by your home. snapping a few photos of the evidence, checking the locks and windows, under the bed, in the attic, basement - almost any and every place someone could hide in and places someone could break in through - they found nothing. whoever this stalker of yours was, they were a good one at getting rid of their traces.

of course, still worried for a citizen, they asked you to stay at a relative or a friend's place for a few days as the two rangers stay behind to capture your stalker when they come back eventually. bad move. the exact next morning, a few more midnight rangers came knocking at your friend's door, asking for your presence. the moment you saw the rangers, you felt a churning feeling in your gut. and you were right to feel that because turns out your stalker had ended up murdering the two rangers who stayed behind, dissecting their hearts and sewing them into one to create the cartoonish heart shape.

all wrapped up in red box and white satin bowtie with blood on the ends. paired with a small note slipped under the bowtie.

"do you like my gifts, darling :)?"

this was getting out of hand. you need to find a way to confront your stalker by yourself and take matters into your own hands. or else, who knows how many more midnight rangers have to die until your stalker comes to you. hell, even your friend could be killed because you chose to stay in their home for the night.

you began with a list of suspects on a notebook. red and white and apparently strong and deranged enough to kill not one but two midnight rangers as if they were still in training. mortefi? no. the researcher was too busy and besides, he's a standing citizen. completely normal and able to keep himself in line without turning into a stalker, fanatic fan. danjin? sure, she was unusually strong for a resonator who had just awakened her tacet marks but she would never kill people over someone she simply adored. encore? now you're the one who is going crazy here, [name].

for a brief moment you thought of a certain someone who had his eyes on you for a little while and wasn't afraid to show his infatuation with you. scar, one of the overseers of the fractsidus organization. one insane bastard, strong enough to kill two rangers as if they meant nothing to him and not to mention, he had a history of stalking you before. the hunch wasn't far fetched but now, all that you needed to prove this theory of yours is to capture your stalker. and if your stalker really is indeed scar, then you needed to teach some sense into him.

carefully, setting up traps in your own bedroom, all the while continuing to act if everything was okay and you weren't feeling eyes digging holes into the back of your skull, you slipped under your covers. turning the lights off, making sure to not exactly clutch your hand to trigger the trap, you closed your eyes as your breathing slows and the windows to your living room slides open.

‘that certainly didn't take long...’ you thought to yourself, entertained by just easy it was to fool your stalker and how quickly they slipped inside your home. just a few minutes after you laid your head on the pillow too.

the sound of footsteps grow closer, light and quick like the pitter patter of raindrops against your window making their way up the stairs and towards your room. your stalker seem to hesitate, their shoes stopping just outside your door as if they were straining their ears to listen to your breathing. as if satisfied with your act of being asleep, the sound of the door to your room opening is heard. the gentle shuffling of clothes and light heel taps making their way into the room. you could hear the box in their hands. that cursed red box with its white satin tied into a bow.

their steps make their way to the side of your bed, on the nightstand beside it as they place down their box of gift with a quiet thud. holding your breath, slowing your breathing as much as possible, you listen on to your stalker. light breathing, a constant shuffling noise and the scent of… ash? that scent gave it away. the scent of ash, sulfur and a very old dried blood.

scar.

of course it was him. of fucking course it was that damned overseer of the fractsidus. an old enemy, a rival and certainly the very same bastard who had a history of stalking you before.

as much as you wanted to jump out of your bed and strangle the bastard by his throat at this very moment, you held yourself back. grinding your teeth slightly in annoyance and biding your time until a clawed finger pushes back a strand of your hair from your face. that was the perfect moment for you to take action, squeezing your hand as the sound if electrical strings is heard, binding scar in his place and hitting him with a high voltage. throwing the blanket off of yourself, you jump away towards the other side of the bed from where scar was. slow and cautious steps towards where a thud is heard, peeking over the edge of the bed, you see his unconscious body. tied up with electrical cords of your making and zapped unconscious.

“yes, it’s me again. that person who was being stalked and gave a call… yeah. i managed to capture my stalker and he’s currently in my bedroom right now. if you could send a few patrollers or midnight rangers, it would be—“

“aww… getting right of me so soon, darling?” scar speaks up, voice scratchy from the earlier stunt you pulled, shaking his head as he tries to clear away any lingering unconsciousness. he wasn’t sharp enough to notice the trap you laid out for him to step into nor was he strong enough to endure the zap of your electricity. not like he minded. he wanted all the time in the world with you and if being tied up and shocked did the trick, he would have it happen to him all the time. as long as it was you who was doing the shocking.

abruptly ending the call — but managing to get through the main point of your call — you turn towards your captive. that annoying scarred face and the lopsided smile that he always has on his face. how much you wanted to wring out his neck to get rid of that smile.

“you look way too happy for someone who got caught” you say, watching him for any sort of movement. nothing. he was just sitting there, kneeled in your floor like a well trained pet all the while keeping an eye on you with those mismatched, puppy eyes.

“what can i say? i slipped and i’m caught. but are these ropes and strings really necessary, darling? you have another plan for me?” he asks, wiggling his shoulders slightly as his smile grows at the furrow of your brows. yes, get angry, get agitated. he loved to see that expression on your face, that anger, that fire. how he wanted to stoke that little ember in your eyes until it turned into a blazing inferno like his own.

“why don’t you learn to shut up first?”

“why don’t you learn to zap me with just enough voltage to make me squirm?”

dear sentinels, this guy was really getting under your skin. he always did and he still does. that annoying smirk, the constant witty banter and the way he would push your buttons all the while whispering filth into your mind.

“bend me over the desk, darling”, “the couch looking painfully empty and clean”, “my zippers are unlocked, y’know?” all sorts of erotic words and suggestions flow from his lips every time he opens them, painting this image in your mind. of him bent over the counter, a quickie in the corner, hell, he even once suggested you to just tear off his jumpsuit and fuck him to your satisfaction in his domain. no one would see or hear you two, as he coos out, dodging your attacks as a red card burns in his hand.

pushing himself up, he trudges his way towards where you stood at the end of your bed, arms still tied behind his back as he leans in close to you. too close. you could smell the sulfur from him even more distinctly now.

“come on, darling. don’t act so cold with me. you and i have known each other for so long, it’s about time we take our relationship to the next level” he coos out, leaning in closer and closer while you lean away from him. until the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed, causing you to fall back onto the soft mattress while scar climbs on top of you. cheeky bastard was grinning so smugly, straddling your lap like it was his favorite seat in the world. maybe to him, it was.

“in your wet dreams. there’s no relationship between us except for the times we nearly kill each other. that’s it” you hiss, propping yourself up on your elbows to glare at him. the anger in your eyes and the way you easily disregarded him like he was nothing made scar shiver, his hips moving tantalizingly over your groin like he was trying to seduce you.

“oh darling! how did you know i have wet dreams about you? in fact, one of them was just like this! with you under me and having me all tied up♡︎“ scar coos out, his expression brightening like a puppy who just got his favorite treat. sneaky bastard, twisting your words and using them against you while getting what he was after. you were sure this is what he wanted the most. to allow this to happen, to let himself be under your mercy. it didn't surprise you at all.

though, you would be an idiot to say you didn’t recognize it. the signs of arousal that he emitted. the slight flush of his cheeks, the heavier breathing and the wetness coating his and your pants. bastard was getting turned on. but… so were you.

hesitantly, your hand reached for the zipper of his jumpsuit’s crotch, the area already wet with his slick. scar nearly whined at that, moving around on your lap as if trying to get you to unzip it quickly. getting the hint, you did as he wanted. the zipper opening up slowly, his dripping cunt coming on display for you.

“tsk tsk. so eager to get fucked you’re not gonna bother to wear underwear?” you ask, clicking your tongue as your thumb comes up to circle around his enlarged clit. scar nearly stumbles over, his knees buckling as he thrust his hips, trying to get your fingers inside himself already.

“why… would i need to wear one if i’m going to be visiting you, darling?” the pyromaniac groans when your thumb leave his clit, leaving him dripping and clenching around nothing. but his disappointment is short lived when you push a finger inside him, stretching him open and making him gasp out loud. just a single finger, buried to the second knuckle and he was already whining as he tries to ride your finger to the best of his abilities. if his hands were free, he would have placed them on your shoulders for balance as he bounces himself over your fingers.

alas, that was not the case and scar was forced to make do with his current predicament, grinding himself down onto your finger while you watch him unamused. when he tried to bounce on your finger, it slipped out thanks to the excessive slick coating your finger, making him whine at the loss while his cunt eagerly wait for your finger to be back inside him again.

“aanhg—! gyaah… mgghh♡︎♡︎ ohhh darling, you sure know how to please my cunt♡︎” a choked moan comes from him when you push two fingers inside his gummy walls, prodding and fucking him open. knuckles deep inside, you make a scissoring motion, making his knees feel weak as he sits down on your lap, letting you finger him as much as you wanted. he was thoroughly enjoying himself it seemed, as he grinds his hips back and forth, his soft cunt weeping more and more of his juices as they coat your hand.

“you… you really know how to please a cunt, don’t you, darling? all mmgh—! ah anngh ah ah ahh♡︎♡︎ all deep♡︎ and rough♡︎ f-feels like you’re trying to get me to squ-uuuhncckk♥︎♥︎!!” scar trails off, his cocky words dying in his throat, replaced by a shrill squeal when you zapped his cunt with a low electricity. opening his mouth, the pyromaniac tries to say something again only to get cut off by another high pitched scream when you decided to zap both his cunt and clit at the same time.

“like i said, you really should learn to shut your mouth, scar” you tease him, a pleased grin on your face as you take in the mess he had become on your lap. thin trail off drool on his chin, flushed red and hazy eyed. there were even tears forming in his mismatched eyes, looking like he was about to cry.

“m-make meeehnn♡︎♡︎ make me th-then, darling♥︎!“ scar manages to say, a whiny groan falling from his drool covered lips as your fingers pick up their pace, now easily fucking into his loosened hole. filthy lewd shlap! shlap! shlap! could be heard, the wet noises of his cunt mixing together with his punched out moans, turning into a blend of beautifully filthy noises.

“filthy whore who loves to walk around with his pussy out should learn to hold his tongue” you coo out, mocking him for his jumpsuit style as your fingers curl upwards, searching and finding that one spot that caused him to see stars in his eyes. a sharp gasp falling, his head thrown back as his legs shake like a weak lamb’s while your fingers continue to hit that one spot. pushing your knees up, you allow him to lean back on your knees, arms struggling against the strings and ropes while you continue to abuse that bundle of nerves inside his gummy walls.

“shh-shuttt awghhh unngh up!! shut up, dawrlinnggg—♥︎♥︎!!” scar trails off, a wet, punched out wail coming from him as your free hand pinches at his hardened clit. pinching at the bundle of nerves, your fingers squeeze around it simultaneously as the rough pads of your fingers hit his g-spot, making scar let out delirious noises of pleasure. he was far gone to hold a proper conversation with you and you could see that. the tears that were collecting in his mismatched eyes now falling in fat globs, red and grey eyes rolling to the back of his skull as his legs thrash around on the bed.

“dirty dirty boy, look at yourself. not only making trouble for me with your stalker tendencies but also getting my sheets and clothes dirty” you coo out, the fingers that were pinching at his clit tugging on them slightly. scar let out a loud scream at that, throwing his head back as his legs squeeze around your waist tightly as he comes undone on your fingers. but you weren’t planning to stop anytime to soon. you needed to teach him a lesson to stop bothering you while also letting out the pent up anger that he caused by deciding to be a prick.

“who gave you the permission to cum, you filthy whore” you bite out, the anger and annoyance seeping into your tone as your fingers stretch his cunt open, continuing to push against his sweet spot. scar started to sob, the pleasure being too much, nearly bordering on pain but his masochistic spirit wanted you to keep going and to never stop. he wanted both the pain and the pleasure. anything, anything you gave him, he would gladly take greedily.

“dar—! darling!! dawrlinnn’♡︎ ’m sorry... ’m sorry ’m soo showwryy♡︎♡︎♡︎ d-didn’t mean to be soo baawdd♥︎♥︎” scar sobs out, punched out, whiny moans and shrill squeals making it harder to understand what he was saying, but you managed to catch on. despite his words and his wet apologies, you knew he wouldn’t stop being a nuisance at your side. that was just how scar was. unreadable, maniacal and a pain in your ass. so even if he does walk away from your bedroom today with drunken apologies and trembling legs, you knew he would just come back again the next day, searching for more. especially now since he has gotten the taste of how good your fingers could fuck his dripping cunt open until he cries deliriously.

sobbing out apologies mingled with how your fingers were fucking his pretty pussy until it bruises, scar lets out a weak whine whenever you pinch at his clit harder than usual. the occasional violent jolts and squeals falling whenever you zap his gushing cunny, crying about how mean you were.

“mmghhh… go-gonna cum…! gonna cum again♡︎ aamgh eeck♥︎♥︎ g-gonna cum on your f-fingers againn..! d-darling! darlingdarlingdarlingdarl-iiinngh♥︎!!” babbling incoherently about his rapidly nearing release, scar’s head is thrown back, mouth slack open in a silent scream when you zap both his pussy walls and clit at the same time. legs trembling like a lamb’s, threatening to close if it weren’t for your body between them, his body jolts violently as his gushing cunt squirts out his cum, painting your entire hand and pants with his slick.

fingering him through his high, you withdraw your fingers only after he whines for a break, the mess that he created didn’t exactly bothering him as he leans in to steal a kiss from your lips. a dazed attitude, drunken look in his eyes as he shoots you a lopsided grin, scar leans in to whisper when he would be visiting again next time. and he specifically asked for more than just your fingers. the greedy bastard.

“i’ll see ya’ then, darling��︎!” before you knew it, he pulled out one of his red cards from his back pocket, opening a portal for himself to escape through just as there comes knocks on your front door.

[sweetiecutie]

Pairing: König x fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, mdni, periods sex, blood play but not really(?), softie König

A/n: very self-indulgent. My periods are as tough as ever and there’s no one to comfort me, so I guess I’ll have to do it myself🥲

König didn’t really know much about periods. Well, of course he knew what menstruation is and that every woman has it once a month, but that was pretty much it. So when you started dating poor guy saw how things really were in female world.

He noticed how moody you would become a week prior your periods, how snappy you’d react to his harmless teasing. König noted your craving for sweets as well, and how angry and sad you’d be over a few pimples that appeared so unwelcomed on your precious face. And König felt truly sorry for you - it was clear as day that you were a hormonal mess, and there wasn’t anything he could do to help you, no matter how much he wanted to.

And then your periods finally came. König watched you get up suddenly from your spot on the couch, rushing straight to the bathroom. He was a bit confused - you were all snuggled up together, watching a movie you picked - did something happen? He knocked on the bathroom door softly, asking if everything was good - a few moments later you opened the door, sour expression on your face as you scrunch up the wrap from the pad. “Yeah, my periods started” you mumbled begrudgingly, your lips pulled in a small pout.

König who just couldn’t bear seeing his precious baby in pain, did everything in his power to comfort you. He wrapped his warm strong arms around your frail form, cuddling you into his chest. His fingers grazed gently the soft skin of your tummy where it ached, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, scattering small kisses wherever he could reach.

König did his research on how to ease menstrual pains. Painkillers, massage, yoga. But what particularly caught his attention - almost every article he’d read said that orgasm is a great way to get rid of cramps - not only healthy but pleasurable as well. So of course he suggested you just that.

König was so sad to see you this fearful and hesitant - “Baby, it’ll make a huge mess. Everything will be covered in blood and I don’t want you to get yourself dirty and-“ you rambled on, his eyes growing wide with every word you said. “Y/n, what are you even talking about?” He interrupted you softly, huge hands coming to cup your cheeks and he looks into your eyes deeply.

“Do you really think a bit of blood will stop me from fucking my amazing sexy girl? If you don’t want this - it’s okay, but please don’t think that I’m disgusted by you bleeding” he said it so earnestly, kissing both of your cheeks reassuringly. König hated the idea of you being self-conscious about absolutely natural processes in your body. So when you nodded shyly, slightly spreading your legs for him to settle in between them, König couldn’t contain a wide grin, even while kissing you passionately.

So with a thick towel under your hips, König got to work - lapping away at your poor pussy, smearing a mixture of your blood, slick and his own saliva all over his cheeks, gazing up at you drunkenly, moaning into your folds at the taste and smell of you. His fingers gently pumped in and out of your sopping cunt, marveling at the wetness blood provided, how easily three of his thick digits slipped into your sensitive cunny.

And only after making you cum on his mouth two times, König decided to fully indulge you, getting his heavy cock out of his boxers. With gentle move of his hips he sunk right into your velvety warmth, penetration as easy as ever due to blood lubrication. He went as gentle as ever, noting how overly sensitive you were - way more than usual. König made sure to not go too deep, to not disturb your poor uterus even more.

König was so sweet, rubbing your clit non-stop, wringing orgasm after orgasm out of your soft beautiful body. He scattered kisses all over your neck and chest, careful to not graze your sore from hormones nipples. And only when you couldn’t take no more - a trembling sweaty mess in his loving arms, babbling and whimpering deliriously, he allowed himself to finally cum on your twitching tummy.

König fucked you so good it took you several minutes to regain consciousness - with bleary eyes you looked up to him, your breath hitching slightly. Here was your boyfriend sitting next to you, grinning from ear to ear; lower half of his face was completely covered in dried blood, his hands and lower stomach glistening with dark red. That would definitely look terrifying if you didn’t know what exactly he was just doing.

“So how are your cramps?” He asked, his white teeth contrasting with brownish-red on his cheeks and lips. You closed your eyes in exhaustion, sinking deeper into soft pillows.

“Gone” you said, making König’s smile brighten impossibly more.

And yes, he’d definitely joke about being a vamp from this day on🙄

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Give writers some love, we live off feedback<3

[theroundbartable]

Arthur is stuck in a time loop.

At first, he doesn't really notice it, since every day feels the same anyway. It's Merlin's good morning that irks him, however, because Merlin tends to switch up the routine a lot. When then the topic of the court meeting is the same, Arthur knows what's up.

In loop three, he asks Gaius for help and the man explains that only a powerful sorcerer could do such a thing and that he'd need strong magic to break it.

The next morning, everything is forgotten. And Arthur researches on his own what's happening. He spends days at the library until one day, he's just really tired.

And so, he stays in bed for a couple days, and lets Merlin complain for hours. It's soozing in an odd way. As days go by, Arthur gets bolder. He approaches Merlin in broad sunlight, hands him food or flowers in front of people and receiving odd stares.

Arthur waits for Merlin's reactions and they seem rather hesitant if also positive. Yet, when Arthur finally gathers up the courage to confess, Merlin rejects him.

Arthur spends another few loops in bed, while Merlin no longer carries any memories of the incident. Arthur then asks Gaius dejectedly who the most powerful sorcerer is he knows.

And Gaius says Emrys and tells him the man lives in the woods, a two day march from Camelot. Arthur loses hope. One loop equals a day. He'd never make it. That is IF the man is even there.

On loop xy, Arthur asks Gaius again, during a different time of day, where Emrys lives. And Gaius answers: about half a day ride north, Sire.

Arthur is confused. That doesn't make sense. Why would Gaius say something different than last time? Gaius was clearly part of the loop! Unless he's lying. And each time he lied he just said the first thing that came to mind.

Arthur stops avoiding Merlin at one point and accepts that Merlin won't respond to his feelings. So, he approaches him and tries to discuss magic issues with him. While Merlin warns him of magic like read from a script, Arthur argues positive aspects. Because he's trying to talk himself into turning to magic to maybe manage to save himself if he trained himself in the arts. Even if it takes years of the timeloop.

Unprompted, Merlin hugs him tight and looks at him with so much affection that Arthur is sure Merlin likes him.

Needless to day, Arthur is more than confused. And Arthur notices another thing. Both Merlin and Gaius react differently to him, depending on how he talks. If he's positive about magic, they are eager to help. Merlin looks most carefree then. And almost like he wants to ... Well, what exactly?

One loop, Arthur tests the theorie: Merlin, I'm going to lift the magic ban.

Merlin stops in his tracks and stares at Arthur. Arthur repeats himself, nervous of the response. Almost more nervous than he was when he got rejected.

Arthur: merlin?

Merlin: why

Arthur: because magic isn't as evil as my father had me believe.

Merlin: is this a trick?

Arthur: a trick? No. I just understand now that sometimes magic is needed. And I need magic right now. *Explains situation*

Merlin: ... arthur, i don't know how many timeloops you've been through

Arthur: you believe me? Uhhhh... 200, probably

Merlin: ... I can help you

Arthur: how?

Merlin: because I'm emrys

[xmoriartea]

SVSSS!Sibling Transmigration 2: Electric Boogaloo

a continuation of this nonsense that ya'll seemed to enjoy

While Shen Yuan and Luo Binghe hold hands and jump into the abyss, Airplane is left holding no pizza with the sect on fire (and him-damnit. He could really use a pizza right now)

Shang Qinghua helped organize the Immortal Alliance Conference fiasco, but with his brother's guidance and Mobei Jun's shocking willingness to listen to both of them, Cang Qiong suffers only two losses that day: LBH and SY (none of the other major sects are so lucky, shifting even more power into Cang Qiong (and thus SQH/MBJ)'s sway as they planned)

Shen Jiu (named Qingqiu now ofc, but still Jiu-ge to SY) does not handle his part in this well at all. Did he shove LBH into the abyss? He would say no. He just maneuvered an awakening and unstable Heavenly Demon away from his brother. (Bro did NOT account for said brother to throw himself at LBH and basically take both their asses into the abyss. Not even Airplane saw that one coming tbqfh)

So yeahhh. SJ is not handling this well. While his brother is missing SJ qi deviates no less than two times which has Qing Ding and every peak lord walking on eggshells. No one mentions either of his missing disciples unless absolutely necessary around him. Unfortunately, he spends entirely too much time researching the abyss, tearing through every tome on the peaks

When the lords try to discuss a way to help SJ's instability, the mention of dual cultivation is floated once and while YQY is hand on the trigger to volunteer as tribute, the vehement refusal from SJ has YQY declaring it off limits without hesitation (there are some murmurs about this, but YQY takes pride in protecting SJ and shuts everyone down)

Airplane and SY know each other well enough that he knows SY would be devastated if something happened to SJ (he knows SY had siblings, that he misses them, that his heart aches twice for the family here and home and he won't let him come back to an empty bamboo house. Airplane knows the pain of an empty home and he will find something in his brain to fix it)

This leads to one tense conversation with SJ like "Look I know you fucking hate me but for SY's sake please just listen one time: your brother is coming home. I don't know how exactly, but we both know he's too stubborn not to" (this does not endear him to his villain son, but he would swear SJ glares a little less at him after)

There is then a Sun-Moon Dew Mushroom tier research saga but it's Airplane alone digging through tomes and notes and getting a little xianxia stoned to try and remember the obscure world building he created. (You know what he remembers? That's he created TOO MUCH world building shit while three energy drinks deep at 2am for any one man to remember!! Cucumber-bro get back here!!)

Meanwhile MBJ is playing a differently game entirely while every cultivator is stressed out of their minds. He's got a spy who is assisting him with power grabs that his father would never have imagined. He's courting a pathetic little mouse of a man. LBH is not a name that means anything yet. MBJ is THRIVING. Everyone else is in a drama and he's in a dating sim

And with two Shangs? The first time he does something too aggressive-demonic in his attempt to court a flailing sleep deprived Airplane, SQH is there to be like 'wtf do you think you're doing you beast?' Does SQH nearly get his ass beat for this insult to his king? Maybe a little bit. But!! Airplane gets woo'd! Without bloodshed!! (his own anyway. SQH picks his battles and cannot pry MBJ's desire to hunt big, rare game to prove his worth as a partner to Airplane which ofc leads to moments of the Shang brothers just standing over the corpse of some ancient-possibly-mythical beast just... in their living room on An Ding like 'wtf do we do with this? my king pls')

Of course, the plot finds everyone eventually. And however the fuck it happens, MBJ crosses path with a power-grabbing LBH, is forced to surrender to return home alive to his consort-to-be (MBJ is waiting for the MBJ title to be 100% his before cementing the courtship), becomes second in command to this brat, and goes home to his Shangs to lick his wounds (MBJ does not expect Airplane to shake his face and demand to know if there was a human cultivator with this half-demon brat and then demand to be taken to them if so when MBJ just 'wtf' stares)

Turns out, several years in the abyss even for the protagonist and a man who knows far too fucking much about abyss nuances for a human is still not an easy time Being human in the abyss? It's a dinner bell for every big monster that SY wants to just observe like the worst tourist. LBH cannot figure out why his shixiong keeps putting himself in danger like this (shixiong!! if you know the deadly thing is hiding in this swamp what if!!! we didn't!! go in the goddamn swamp shixiong!!!) But! That abyss knowledge is hard to beat. SY is able to guide LBH through safe routes and help guide him on his demonic journey (LBH ofc asks how his shixiong knows about any of this and SY panic changes subjects like a dozen times. Even in the back of LBH's head Meng Mo is like 'kid IDFK what this brat is but it's not normal and I need you to 1. understand that and 2. do not let him get away') And you know what is great for SY (and by extension LBH)? SY isn't juggling a persona that isn't his. He's allowed to come to terms with himself and his feelings on his terms. He gets to watch his white lotus LBH fight alongside him in the abyss and save his life and oh. OH. Maybe. Maybe he can have this? (SY being SY is still like PLOT EXISTS!! HAREM!! WIVES!! And look. He figures his own shit out a little bit, he's still a blind bastard. He doesn't notice how many wife plots he and LBH have stumbled into together, or how many LBH has skipped entirely. He can just be part of the harem, that's fine. He can live with that. Totally normal thoughts) LBH meanwhile can't even spell harem cause he only has eyes for this weird wonderful shixiong of his Given that the plot is a mess (happening, sure, but a MESS) they stumble into a new wife plot in the abyss (How was SY supposed to know full humans triggered nonsense plots down here?? It's not like LBH's human wives were ever down here with him!!) and so SY might be dying a second time. (Whoops! Whoops! Whoops! (Hey System? STFU if you have nothing useful to offer thank you!!!) But you know what could help this mortal cultivator trapped in the abyss? Demon qi. You know who has a lot of demon qi he doesn't know what to do with?? Best boy Binghe, that's who (they're both young and awkward and SY is dying and Binghe can't lose him. He can't be left alone again. It's declaration and promise and hope and when he kisses his shixiong he wills the transfer of qi between their lips and he can feel the way SY grows stronger in his arms with it) Let's just say that even when they clear the realm of the abyss that threatened SY, LBH still persistently insists that his shixiong share his qi mwah! (SY does not put up half as much complaint as he once might have over his sticky shidi) Also you know SY is going to find some horrific abyssal monstrosity and decide it's just the best and cutest most perfect and loyal pet (it's an honest to god nightmare and everyone they encounter is afraid of it and Binghe shoots it glares whenever it steals his shixiong's affections HOW DARE??) With SY's omnipotent abyss GPS sense and LBH sharing his excess of demon qi with SY, they're able to find Xin Mo, break the seal on LBH's powers, and then continue on his training montage (definitely too unstable to go back to the mortal realm early), also he has a fantastic anchor in SY at his side to soothe the Xin Mo urges and (don't ask shidi, pls he's begging) also teach him how to tame the sword

Cut back to several years of time passing, Airplane squishing his king's face, demanding to know about a human cultivator with this heavenly demon only for MBJ to (still face squished) say he wouldn't call the man at LBH's side human per se but if this is what his Airplane wants, he will take him with him to the meeting LBH has arranged for the following day (now please, let him pout and huff and receive head scritches)

Hey you know how people always get taken aback by Xie Lian being just absolutely filled with ghost qi??? SY is a cultivator, not a god, just a lad trying his best to follow that immortal master path, and he just spent SEVERAL years in the abyss and getting regularly dosed by HEAVENLY demon qi — this boy ain't right anymore, guys. He's definitely feeling some kind of demon-tier different™ after all of this and man is THRIVING because Now That's What SY Calls Lore

Please imagine heavenly demon LBH with a demon-touched SY holding demon court with their weird demon allies when MBJ shows up flanked by two totally human Shangs and the just.... the awkward staring these four members of Cang Qiong do at each other (LBH, oblivious to the spy on the mountain plots, just 'why tf is Shang-shixiong and Shang-shifu here??) (SQH looking at LBH and SY and just taking furious mental notes about these Developments and how this may affect his brother's safety) (SY and Airplane just seconds away from slapping the shit out of each other like cats in a bag just 'where the fuck have you been???' 'what have you done???')

Court gets to proceed as planned, but Consorts Shen and Shang make hasty exits together to figure out just what the fuck has been happening to Airplane's plot (There is minimal sibling-tier beat downs in the process and neither is free from sin)

Airplane explains that SJ is a mess and that they need to do something if SY wants to continue having a brother ('bro, he will go off the deep end soon if he doesn't find you but if he finds you like this BRO WILL GO OFF THE DEEP END!! DO YOU SEE THE PROBLEM??')

Their scheming gets them on the idea the Sun-Moon Dew Mushroom and between both their whipped demons, it's very easy to acquire it, cultivate it, and prepare it for SJ (ofc monster loving son SY shares some with a cute snake he sees, obviously)

SY sneaks onto Qiong Ding with their near ready science project and meets with YQY who is... not thrilled with the demonic influence all over his shidi's brother. But he listens, because end of the day they both care for SJ. SY can't risk SJ having another deviation if he sees him, so he entrusts YQY to present this fix to SJ: a way to repair his broken core and shed the scars of his past (ofc they both know he will be suspicious, but after doing his own research, he would take it in a heartbeat)

When SJ has a shiny new and powerful body, that's when LBH and SY return to the sect. No demon army, no attacks, no Huan Hua bs. Just two lost disciples making their return from the abyss. (There is much distrust. SQH plays his role as well as ever, siding with the other lords that certain tests must be passed to ensure they are not demons--- oh wait one of you IS a demon. and the other has been influenced by that one. Mhhh. Mhmmm. This is fiiiiiine)

SJ doesn't deviate! But he is! Mad! There is much yelling and shouting and disciples are made to run around Qiong Ding peak while every other lord just has to sit through the most chaotic family reunion.

But things can go back to normal from here right? Just casual transmigration, not plot threats? (System? System you're laughing. They're having a nice moment and you're laughing)

[juletheghoul]

too close

a/n: Yeah. The trailer got me again. I can't help myself!!! Also - I didn't actually want to write feelings for these two but I have no say anymore. They have feelings, they are obsessed with each other and I can't just ignore it lol. Not beta’d and barely proofread- any mistakes or errors are my own. Hopefully you enjoy! (PS I did a little research on fruits in Roman times- they had no word for orange, so any shade of orange was just called red)

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, Marcus eats pussy and I don't CARE, giving him that gluckgluck3000, creampie, Marcus gets hurt (hurt comfort), hand stuff from him because he's my precious man and he likes to give his girl pleasure, master / slave dynamic (power imbalance) he’s still pretty possessive, Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus (for now?👀), **FEELINGS** let me know if I missed any!

This is the fic I referenced in this preview

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 5.1k (whoops!)

reblogs are appreciated

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You frowned, despite your station, the confusion and slight worry breaking through the years of training your face to remain neutral. For a moment, you forgot your place.

“But-“ he turned, head tilted in curiosity instead of anger, thankfully, “I am to stay here? You do not wish me to accompany you Dominus? To pour and serve…?” You could not keep the slight hurt from your voice, much to your dismay. 

“No Girl, you will stay here, at the villa.” He saw the confusion, the unabashed anguish on your face and his expression softened, “peace Girl, it is not a matter of not desiring your presence or your service.” You listened to him with a lump in your throat, a wild fear seizing your heart that he might have grown tired of you. 

“I will not have the luxury of a tent, the rebellion is small enough that I can squash it and be back in less than a moon’s turn.” He came close, close enough to have your face tilt up to stare into his eyes. “I would not have you waiting for me in such a meagre camp, I would not have you sleeping in the dirt.” His hand settled on your arm, a soft offering, a reassurance but it did nothing to calm you. You have grown so accustomed to having him close, to ending up in his bed of a night more often than not before heading to your own, naked and pleasantly sore; to falling asleep with his seed trickling out of your puffy little cunt.

“I am comfortable wherever you are Dominus, I could still be of use, to light your fires-“ 

“I would have you here, and safe. That is my decision, and no amount of temptation will sway me from it.” He lifted your hand, pressing his lips to your fingers in silent, but firm apology. You knew there was nothing to be said, you had already pushed the matter far more than would be allowed on a normal day. 

“Your will, Dominus.” You bowed your head, despite the hurt and worry swirling around in your belly. “I will pray to the Gods for your swift victory, and safe return home.” 

He nodded, leaving shortly after. 

Time passed, and a feeling of restlessness took firm root in your being. The house felt empty, despite the attendants and sentinels left to guard them as well as the property. The days found you listless, moving through the motions of your chores and daily duties practically numb. The days were marks on the wall of your mind, praying to the Gods to send him back to you. 

Whispers travelled swiftly through the city, through the market stalls and through the villa itself, most of them rumours and it was difficult to keep your emotions in check. 

He has advanced

He has killed the leaders of the rebellion

He is victorious, already on his way home

He has been hurt

He is dead

He is victorious - Rome's favoured son has triumphed once more

The moon turned, once, and then twice, finally a third time before he was home. The all encompassing relief was short lived however, that wash of relief turned to ashes in your mouth at the sight of him. One of the rumours had been true after all. A sword wound to the side had laid him low late into the battle, it hadn’t killed him, thank the Gods, but it had slowed him down and made his journey home nothing short of agony. 

Your heart raced to see him weakened, every fibre of your being itched to run to him, to press your lips to skin but you refrained. You stood aside, dutifully, letting his trusted soldiers practically carry him to his bed. The older women got to work, bringing fortified wine with all manner of powders and potions to aid in his recovery while you stood next to him, the little half-moon marks in your palms from your nails barely felt like anything compared to the ache in the back of your throat. 

Your eyes would not leave his face. 

He looked so tired, mud and grime still marring his skin as he lay prone on his bed. To forfend the ugly thoughts swirling around in your mind, you focused on the tasks at hand. 

He needs to be cleansed, after he eats something I will boil some water and move gently, leave him to gather his strength. An offering must be made so the Gods will hasten his healing-

“Girl.” His voice was soft, and instantly you rushed to his side. 

“Yes Dominus, I am here.” You took his hand tentatively, your heart soared to feel him squeeze it. 

“Fetch me some broth, and help me to sit up–a few pillows behind me. I would sit upright.” 

You rushed to comply, happy to focus on his instructions. With soft touch, you did your best to prop him up, biting your lip to stop your eyes from welling up when he winced. Once satisfied, you set about fetching hot water and linens, as well as his broth. He sighed at the sight of it, and drank almost all of it within a few heartbeats. 

“Shall I help you cleanse now Dominus?” You brought the basin closer, showing him the steaming water and he nodded. 

Tentatively, you removed the soiled clothes he wore, ears pricked up for any sign of discomfort. He beared it with good grace, keeping the twinges of pain to himself, you imagined for your benefit, and you were grateful. It took time, but finally, you had divested him of everything, and he half sat, half laid on his bed, not an ounce of shame for his nakedness. It was secondary, to see him bare, more alarming was the soiled linens with the dark bloom of dried blood staining it on his side like some grotesque flower. 

He was pale, weak, his injury robbing him of his normal, ruddy health. He watched you, his expression somewhere between exhaustion, and a calm content. 

With gentle hands, you dipped the clean linen into the steaming water of the basin, and methodically cleaned the dirt, and dried blood from his skin. Eventually his eyes closed, soft sighs filled the air with every pass of the warm cloth across his shoulders, down the firm muscles of his thighs, his hands, until you reached the contours of his face. The lines were more defined, this battle had taken a toll on him. 

Your thumbs smoothed over his brows, wiping dust and worry away with a bone deep gratitude that he had come back. He melted into your touch, and you tried and failed to suppress the smile. 

“I must clean the wound, Dominus.” You reached for more clean dressings, giving him a chance to steel himself but he kept his eyes closed. You thought he might have fallen asleep, but he nodded, and so you did what needed to be done. 

To his great credit, he didn’t make a sound. Even as you cleaned at the angry, but healing edges of the wound. He said nothing when you packed it with the poultice one of the women had brought, when you covered it in a clean dressing, even as he drank down the no doubt foul tasting potion to help him sleep. Instead he settled back, and sighed, his eyelashes fluttering against his skin. 

You gathered all of the soiled clothing and discarded bandages, and moved to leave him to rest but his hand snatched at your wrist. 

“Wait, Girl, stay. Stay with me–” His words were almost slurred, and he didn’t finish his thought, his hand loosened around your wrist but you stayed, taking great care to lie beside him on his bed, and watched him sleep. Your heart raced with something you couldn’t–wouldn't name, something that threaded through your ribcage like smoke, wreathing its way around your lungs and taking root in your heart. You pressed the back of your hand to his brow, thankful that no fever lurked there and once satisfied that he was indeed resting, you rested your head next to his. 

Sleep took you, swiftly and without warning. 

The world outside was dark when your eyes opened, and it took a moment for you to get your bearings. His warm skin pressed to your arm and you jolted with the memory of his injury. 

“Peace, girl, I am well.” His voice was quiet, but stronger than before, “You did well in changing my dressings.” His praise squeezed at something in your belly, robbing you of any words you might have had. “You must be hungry, go and fetch something to eat and bring it here, I will share the meal with you.” The concern in his voice brought a smile to your lips, his thoughts on you, despite the pain he must have been in. 

“Yes Dominus, shall I fetch more of the potion as well? You should rest-” He raised his hand softly to forestall you. 

“I have rested enough, I would have my wits about me just now. Go on, you may fetch whatever else you need, I would have you sleeping in my bed.” 

His words rung in your ears as you moved throughout the silent house. They shone through your eyes as you piled a serving tray with olives and cheese, with bread and ripe fruits. They camped in your belly as it rolled with something when they repeated over and over like a prayer in your mind as you filled a serving jug with the wine he favoured, they strengthened your grip as you carried it with the utmost care down the moonlit halls of the house, almost sharpening your eyesight to bring you swiftly back to him. 

You set it down between you on his bed, careful not to spill anything or jostle him too much and just in time too, the hunger rung out from your empty belly loud as thunder but you ignored it, your priority was to help him sit up.

“Eat Girl, you are starving. I will pick at my leisure.” He frowned, gesturing to the food and you were grateful beyond words. It was a quiet meal, but comfortable. He usually ate by himself, most of the time while in his study and with you, it was after chores and duties had been completed. Despite all of your trysts and time spent together, it was the first meal you’d ever shared. 

“You do not favour the olives.” He said it without judgement. You shook your head shyly, covering your mouth to speak through bites of bread and cheese. 

“My desire for them is unpredictable.” He tilted his head, “Sometimes, they are all I want. Other times, I cannot stand the sight of them.” You wrinkled your nose, confirming that this time, the latter statement was true.

He smiled, huffing out an amused laugh through his nose.

“What else do you like? I see you favour the fruit, which one do you like most of all?” It was strange to be asked about yourself, no one in your life had ever wondered about what you might of preferred, for anything.

“Figs, I think. Pomegranates too, although peeling them takes a lifetime.” He huffed again, wincing slightly, “Are you in pain? Shall I fetch–” He raised a hand. 

“I am well, continue. Why do you favour them if they are so troublesome to eat?” He shifted a tiny bit, with great effort, turning to face you better. The room was dark, save for the few candles burning and the moon shining in through his window, casting stark shadows across his lovely face. 

“They are worth the effort.” 

He smiled, and finally reaches over to help himself to the food. Something about the darkness, about the quiet seclusion made you bolder.

“What about you Dominus? Is there a fruit you favour?” Your heart raced, fear that you might have overstepped grabbing hold of you but it was for naught, he merely frowned in thought. 

“I prefer plums.” He said after a moment, “I like figs as well.” It was both exhilarating and strange to speak with him like that, in the quiet dark, almost comfortable. “Although–in my younger days we fought in Spain, and there I tasted a fruit I have never seen again, I do not know the name of it but I enjoyed it very much.” 

“What was it like?”

“It was round, a strange shade of red with a thick peel but underneath it had segments like a lemon.” He continued eating, and you were content to sit with him, only moving the tray once he had eaten his fill.

“It is good to be home.” The words came out as a sigh, “I missed it while I was away, more than any other time I must admit.” He shifted slightly and winced again, “Help me lay flat, my back aches from sitting.” He held out his hand and you rushed to oblige, moving pillows and positioning him flat on his back. “That is better, gratitude Girl, let us blow out the candles and settle in.” 

“Yes Dominus.”

“Have you something to sleep in? What is most comfortable for you?” 

“I am content in this, Dominus.” You gestured to your tunic as you made your way around the room, snuffing out the candlelight.

“That is not what I asked you.” There was no bite in his words, but the expectation of truth was plain as day. 

“Most nights I sleep in the nude, it is what is most comfortable for me.” You made your way back to the bed but he did not let you get in. 

“Please, make yourself comfortable, there is no expectation from me, much as I have missed the pleasures of your body. I would have you sleep how you are accustomed.” You nodded once, undressing down to your skin before slipping into bed with him. In the dark, in the quiet, it was peaceful and the sound of his steady breathing worked it spell on you quicker than you would have thought. 

“Gratitude Girl.” He said it soft, and with a full belly and heavy lids, you questioned him. 

“For what Dominus?” The words were almost slurred, as the heavy press of sleep pushed you into the deep pool of blackness. You thought you heard him say everything, but you could not be sure, sleep had claimed you. 

-

You woke with the sun, the first few rays sliding across your skin like water and it was hard to move from your place. In the night, your body had brought you close to him, seeking out the warmth of him. He was still asleep, but his legs had tangled up with yours and it was strange to lay with him like this, both of you nude as the day you were born, yet incredibly comforting. 

You took the time to check over his wound, and were pleased to find it looking much better. The edges of it stitching together, thankfully without corruption. 

“It does not hurt as much as it did before.” His voice was sleepy, “I will be back on my feet soon enough.”

“Let me dress Dominus, and I will fetch you something to break your fast.” 

“Not just yet.” He shifted, and although you helped him, he didn’t struggle quite as much. “Come, lie with me.” He held out his arm, and you went to him, trembling like a leaf to rest your head on his shoulder. “Gods, I missed you, Girl.” He buried his nose into the mess of your hair and something inside you grew and swelled, was fed and made strong by his words and by his skin. 

“I missed you, Dominus.” Truer words had never been spoken by you, the ache for him had been unbearable.

“Did you?” There was something underneath, something desperate and had it not been so early, so peaceful, he might not have asked.

“Desperately Dominus, I feared you had abandoned me, I feared you no longer desired me.” You pressed your face into his neck, breathing him in, his scent, his warmth, him- sustenance

“Come now, Girl, you know of my desire for you, it is like a thirst I cannot quench. A hunger I cannot satisfy, despite my dark moods, despite my sour face, you are a source of joy and pleasure I have not known in some time.” His hand brought your face up, his gaze burned into yours and his words affected you so that tears welled in your eyes. He wiped them away, and the tenderness was too much, a sob clawed its way out from your throat. All of the worry, all of the fear that he might have left you alone in the world, to be sold to another bubbled up and he held you as you cried.

“Do you wish to be free of me? Is that why you cry?” Something in his voice broke your heart.

“No Dominus, no-“ you wiped at your eyes, moving to look him in the eye and the expression you saw in them was almost too much to bear. “I have never been so happy in all my life, I have never felt about anyone, the way I feel for you.” You pressed your lips to his, petal-soft. 

“Sometimes, the things I feel for you are almost too big for my body, I want to be with you always, I want to feel you always. I feared so much while you were gone that I could barely eat, barely sleep-” Your words were frantic, so many things to get out that you could barely speak and he pulled you close, shushing you softly. 

“My heart swells to hear you speak this way.” He reached down, sliding his hand towards the hinge in your knee, to pull it over his thigh. “Peace, let us just enjoy the silence.” You nodded into his neck, letting go of a great breath in your lungs. 

“If I was myself, and whole, I would be pulling every ounce of pleasure from you now.” 

You laughed at the annoyance in his tone.

“Soon enough Dominus, I would have you healthy and healed.” Your hand slid up the smooth expanse of his chest, threading through the curls at the base of his skull. “Once your wound has healed, you may have me any way you please.” 

“Any way?” His tone darkened, and your body responded, thighs clenching, heart racing, nipples hardening. “Any way I please? And what if I want you for a day and a night? What if I want you wet and spread for me in this bed until you’re so full of my gift it spills all over my linens?” The hand that had been softly stroking your back moved down and grabbed at your backside, pulling until the lips of your sex spread open. 

A moan slipped out at the feel of his hands, and he all but growled. 

“Do not make those noises Girl, not when I cannot fuck you how I wish to.” He pulled your face up, licking into your mouth with a hunger you could not satisfy, not in his current state. 

“Dominus, I beg of you not to taunt me, not when we cannot indulge.” You kissed him again, despite your words and finally he pulled away, the tremble of frustration in his grip. You shifted, and felt his manhood press against your thigh, the sight of him, leaking and hard against his belly made you sigh. 

“Do not concern yourself with that, I am ravenous for you, but my body cannot fulfill the wishes of my cock. Go and fetch something to break our fast. I will need you to change my dressing as well, if you could.” He sent you off with a kiss, and with desire dripping onto your thighs. 

“Yes Dominus.” You smiled, and rushed off to do what needed to be done. 

-

Weeks passed, and he healed beautifully. His wound knit together cleanly and with that, his strength came back. More often than not he stood and cleansed without your help, he left the safety of his bed and his chambers and sported a genuine smile as he made his rounds through his house.

You trailed behind him, your own smile in place to see him coming back into himself. 

Things were different. He was different. 

He spoke more, that was for one. Before he would keep his own council, his words were curt and his thoughts would be kept close to his chest. Some nights he reverted to his silence, but it had grown into something peaceful, something comfortable.

The biggest change though, was his attitude towards you. 

For one, he refused to sleep alone. The darkness of night found you tending to his needs and after the candles had been snuffed- he pulled your tunic off and pulled you into his bed, into his arms. 

At first, you thought it was his injury, a fear that he might suffer some setback in his sleep, but as the days passed on and he was well past the point of danger, he still refused to let you go. 

His desire had come back too, much quicker than his body could handle. Mornings would find you in the cage of his arms, with his lust pressed hard and hot at the cleft of your ass. You would pull away so as not to tease him, and he would let you at first, but as his body caught up to him, he stopped letting you pull away. 

Most mornings, he’d whisper how much he missed burying himself inside you, how he couldn’t wait to gift you with his seed while slipping his fingers between your legs and swirling them around your clit, only stopping after you’d fluttered around his fingers. Then he’d send you off to fetch food with a smile on your face and an ever-growing ache between your thighs. 

A part of you fretted as to why he hadn’t taken you yet, as the days passed it was clear that he was well enough to indulge. Another part, a hopeful, possibly quite foolish part of you thought maybe he was waiting for you to ask him. That couldn’t be, could it? You ruminated on your previous encounters, yes–he’d called you forth to warm his bed, but with every recalled memory it was clear that in his own way, he'd let you decide whether to push things or not. A luxury you knew was rare. It was an intoxicating thought though, to think that you could decide when and what you wanted him to do.

So many possibilities. 

When night came, you brought him his meal, and his wine and tried to keep the tremble of excitement out of your hands. You watched him move about his chambers, his strength back to normal as he dipped his hands into the fresh water in his basin. His hair had grown out a little, dark with silver mixed through and that thought struck you again, that he was some beautiful marble statue come to life. An emperor of old, standing before you in all his glory. 

“Dominus-” You called to him, unable to hold back any longer. His eyes raised, finding you as he dried his hands. 

“Before you take your meal, I would ask something of you.” Your voice shook, never had you openly asked him for anything before. He raised his eyebrows, more surprised than anything.

“What would you have of me Girl?” He moved towards you, eyes curious. 

“I would have you–” You stopped him, guiding him to sit on his bed, “I would have you sit here, and accept my mouth.” 

You kneeled before him, staring up at him with your lip caught between your teeth. Your hands landed on his knees, sliding up to pull his tunic up to expose his manhood. For a moment, he stared at you with wide, surprised eyes. 

“I have missed our times together, I have missed you filling me of a night and as much as I treasure your fingers in the morning, I would have you feel pleasure at my hand–or, my mouth.” He did not stop you from exposing him and heat flooded your body to see how quickly his cock responded to your words, to the soft exploration of your hand. 

“You would do this?” His palm landed on your shoulder, sliding up to cup your cheek. “You have no obligation, I would not command you to do this should you not want to.” You spit onto your palm and grasped him in hand and despite his words, he shudderred to feel the way you stroked him. 

“I dream about this Dominus, I desire you so deeply that I ache for you–” You opened your mouth and took the blunt tip of him into your mouth. He moaned, slack-jawed at the sight of you. You placed open mouthed kisses at the tip, and the sensitive underside, stroking at the base of him. His thighs spread, making room for you and you relished the warm strength of them under your arms. 

He tasted like the ocean. 

“God’s above Girl-” You pulled away, smiling as you continued to stroke him, he barely fit in the palm of your hand and with his passion dribbling out and your spit the sounds were loud and slick. Your own arousal unspooled between your legs, the ache intensifying as he tensed underneath you, hissing when you pressed soft kisses to the scar at his side, to the softness of his belly, to the firm golden thighs bracketing you to his hips. 

“Open your mouth.” His confidence resurfaced, and then his hand wrapped around yours, guiding you to stroke him the way he liked. He guided the reddened tip into your mouth. “Look at me when you take me in your mouth, open wide, I want to touch your throat.” You moaned around him, taking him deeper, breathing through your nose in an attempt to stay calm. 

“That’s it Girl, Gods be damned-” His tone was filthy as he held you there, eyes watering until you pulled away, sputtering and messy. 

“If you continue, I will spill in your mouth.” he guided your hand still, slowly stroking himself against your lips, smearing your spit and his salty arousal onto your lips. Never in your life have you felt that powerful, that beautiful, with tears spilling down your face and slick dripping down your thighs. He held himself suspended in his pleasure, awaiting your word. 

“Would you like to spill in my mouth Dominus? Or would you like to fill my cunt?” You held out your tongue, letting him rub the tip of himself against it while he decided. Your heart soared to see the conflict on his face. 

“I would fill your cunt, I have missed it terribly.” You smiled and rose with a final kiss to his cock and once you did, he ripped the tunic off your body. The loud tear of it made you squeal with a mix of shock and excitement. 

“I promise you, I will not last.” He all but tossed you onto his bed, spreading your legs wide for his gaze. “Greedy little cunt, so wet for me.” He spoke in a daze, staring at the place that ached at the mere thought of him. He slipped down and it’s with a shock that you watched him dip down to spear into you with his tongue. Never had anyone used their mouth on you and the sight of it was almost too much to bear.

It’s with a greedy, filthy groan that his lips dragged up to latch around the pert little pearl of you, his tongue stroking, stroking, stroking while his mouth suctioned around it. Your body was a taut string, legs shaking under the strong grip of his hands, holding you to him tight enough to hurt. Your breathing came in pants, the climax was already there, balancing on a knife's edge, so close you could almost taste it.

His hands moved, sliding up to pinch at your nipples and the wave crested. Your hands gripped into his curls, both holding him close, and desperately pushing him away while you fluttered into his mouth. 

You felt the strong muscle of his tongue slide down, drinking you from the source. 

He made his way back up, your slick shining on his face and on his whiskers. You’re almost too shocked, and too shy to look into his eyes. 

“I confess, I have wanted to do that for a long time.” He pulled his tunic up and off as you lay under him, boneless. “I know it’s not something commonly done, but I enjoy it. Did you enjoy it? I felt you flutter.” He raised your leg, wrapping it around his hip while his cock slipped inside you without any resistance. You let out a relieved sigh, finally, he was home. 

“Yes Dominus–” You almost whispered, half-shy as he dropped down, his arms holding himself up on either side of your skull. “No one has ever–Oh–” He snapped his hips hard, unable to hold himself back and already, the need built in your core, robbing you of any coherent thoughts. 

“No one but me ever will.” He kissed you, making you taste yourself and it was so perverse, so exhilarating you held him close, wrapping your arms and legs around him to feel as much of him as you could. His cock pushed and pulled, hitting that special place he owned and with a handful of thrusts, and a punched out groan he filled you with his gift. Finally. 

He watched himself pull out of the mess he'd made, watched in silence as his gift dripped out and onto his linens. 

Things felt different this time, there’s a vulnerability, an intimacy that is almost overwhelming. You pulled his face up, and pressed your lips to his softly, praying that you conveyed the feelings swirling in your chest. He kissed you back, his hand gliding up to wrap around your neck. When you opened your eyes, his brow was furrowed, the same feelings shining back at you through his dark eyes. 

Seconds passed, and the feeling did not disperse. Before he would have sent you away, but he held you close. Wordlessly he pressed his lips to yours over and over, he stroked at your skin, your shoulder and your thigh high on his ribs, your breast, your lips. He moved off, and went about dampening a cloth to clean himself off of you. Once he was done, he brought the food you’d served him and fed you from his own hand. 

You accepted the food, smiling shyly as he watched you, something like affection, like love shining out through his eyes. 

“Thank you Dominus–” He shook his head, a small frown at your words. 

“Call me Marcus.”

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[fairyysoup]

the devil i know

chapter one: god you've got the blackest eyes

(repost)

fic tag | fic playlist | fic masterlist

pairing(s): crossroads demon!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: To summon a demon at a crossroads, simply cast a circle, make an offering, and recite an incantation. What happens from that point on is subject to your desire… and the demon’s.

cw: explicit, smut, dubcon elements, making a deal with a demon, inspired by american and european folklore, sacrilegious themes, horror, witch!reader, reader is 21+ in modern day, eddie is immortal, coercion (a bit), sex pact, marking, possessive behavior, animal death, trauma, reader is ostracized by her very religious hometown, dark comedy, tfw your accidental boyfriend is a demon who is obsessed with you bc he doesn’t know how to be normal about anything ever, dead dove: do not eat

please check masterlist and individual parts for content warnings before reading. this fic contains dark themes. your media consumption is your own responsibility.

a/n: Hi folks, for the month of October this year I'm going to be reuploading all the chapters of this fic onto tumblr, this time hopefully for good. I apologize for the time that it's been taken down. Genuinely, this fic has garnered so much kindness and support and I think of it as one of my biggest accomplishments. I hope you all enjoy it just as much the second time around as the first.

ALL OF MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

Through me you pass into the city of woe, Through me you pass into eternal pain, Through me you pass among forsaken people. Justice moved my exalted creator; I was wrought by divine power, Supreme wisdom, and primal love. Before me all things created were eternal, And eternal I endure. Abandon all hope, ye who enter here. -Dante Alighieri, The Inferno, Canto III

The book you’ve used for ages now, since late in your junior year of high school, has only one page in it that you haven’t utilized. You don’t know how much faith to put in it– you’re a little short on faith, these days– but, the spellbook lays it out simply, so you follow its directions to the letter. 

To summon a demon at a crossroads, go to a place where two paths meet on the dark moon. You find peace and quiet in the woods, deep where you know no one walks at night but two paths cross in a small clearing banked with trees. It’s your favorite place to go when you want to do a spell– ritual– and you don’t want to be bothered. The whole thing can’t be more than twenty feet across. Above the overhang of trees, there’s no moon in the sky, only stars.

Cast a circle of protection. That took more research than just the book in your hands, but years of collecting information have given you learned knowledge– there are a million ways to cast a circle, and different circles for different purposes. You do your best to create one for protection. You draw a literal circle in the dirt with a stick, fill it with salt, and walk around the circle three times clockwise to cast it. You light candles to give yourself some light, and to free up your hands of the flashlight you carried to see your way through the woods. 

Make an offering of copper. Your hand pauses on the copper dog tag in your hand. You’d thought of just offering a penny, but you remembered reading somewhere that pennies barely contain copper anymore, and you didn’t have anything else that was entirely made of the one metal. 

You run your finger over the embossed name on it. Lacey. Your pet’s old collar feels heavy in your hand as you remove the tag from the leather strap and bury it in the earth, you guess, to reach the… Underworld? Hell? You can’t honestly say, considering the text you’re referencing only calls it the Otherworld.

It’s a big sacrifice. It’s personal. But, you guess, that gives it more meaning. Making a deal is personal business, and you have your reasons.

Recite the summoning incantation. A stanza of words you don’t understand. You don’t think it’s in Latin, but you try your best, all the same. You read them from the book before you, and feel your blood rushing in your veins as you do.

State your desire out loud in a clear voice. Well, that’s a little more difficult. What is it that you want?

You take a breath, go to speak, and then stop. You don’t know how to start. You don’t know exactly how to describe your pain. You don’t know how to voice your anger well enough, you just know you need to… you need to get it out, somehow. This is a very crucial step in the ritual, you have to do it.

“I came here to make a deal,” you speak frankly, clearly. “I’m prepared to do anything. I’ve run out of options. I’ve been hurt too many times, by too many people who didn’t care what they did to me. I’ve lost everything I genuinely loved. I’m… I’m angry, and desperate, and I’m frightened. And I feel so alone. It’s eating me alive, and I just… I just want the ability to make things go my way, for once.” Good enough, you hope.

Wait for an answer.

You do. You listen intently, to the song of the leaves in the trees rustling in the slight breeze, to the crickets chirping in the grass. You wait long enough that you start to rethink your approach. 

It could be that things will turn around if you just wait another month, or another month after that. Maybe you’ll get the car back. Maybe you’ll get the promotion that was given to the newbie that you trained. Maybe your ex will stop coming around your work to intimidate you. Maybe you’ll get a new dog to take the place of the one that he killed. Maybe the evangelical town you live in will stop shunning you and calling you a witch, like something out of the middle ages.

Unlikely, that last one.

Just when you swear it’s a failure, that you should just pack up and leave, that’s when a strong gust of wind rips through the clearing out of nowhere. The candles blow out– and then, oddly enough, relight themselves. There’s a slight scent of smoke on the breeze, and you look around to make sure none of the candles fell over in the wind.

They’re all perfectly fine. There’s nothing amiss, it seems, until you hear a cough and movement across the clearing. You look forward, and see a pair of black combat boots in the stream of light from your flashlight. You follow the boots up to a pair of legs, clad in dark jeans, and then further up, to a torso, and a head, and a pair of sparkling eyes.

“Hi.”

You stare at him, probably looking like a fish out of water with the way your mouth opens and closes. You’d fully expected the traditional scary depiction of a demon– maybe horns, goat hooves, et cetera. But the man that answered your call is… just a man. A pretty one. He has long, curly hair, which falls over his broad shoulders and stirs in the wind. His plush lips curve up in a relaxed, cocky smile, as he takes in the sight of you in return. 

He quirks an eyebrow at you. “Are you just gonna stare at me all night?” 

“Sorry, hi. Hello.” You shake your head. “Can you believe I honestly thought I’ve been doing it wrong this whole time?” 

“I can believe a lot of things. You know, there’s a reason why the demon summoning ritual is first in that book.” His voice is soft and resonant. You get a mental image of heat waves radiating from tar-black and glowing magma, rolling slowly over lava beds. The image disappears just as soon as it flashes into your mind.

“Well, to be completely honest, I wasn’t sure how I felt about making a deal with a demon first thing,” you explain, looking away shyly. “But I’ve tried all the spells in this book and not a single one of them worked. Just seems like everything is getting worse all the time.”

He doesn’t look away– rather, he keeps staring at you, unblinkingly. Like you’re the most fascinating creature he’s ever seen. He leans up against the tree that he appeared beside, his leather jacket falling open to reveal a shirt with a demon’s head on it. Fitting. He takes a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket. 

“So, now you wanna make a deal with little ol’ me, huh?” He grins, a gorgeous smile that flashes bright, sharp teeth at you. He lifts a cigarette to his mouth and bites it gently between his teeth. He doesn’t pull out a lighter. Instead, you watch him light up with a small flame that erupts from the tip of his thumb. 

“Depends on who you are,” you retort, eyes following the movement of his hands. They’re weighed down by large, silver rings that reflect the light of the flame before it snuffs out. “What’s your name?”

He makes a short noise in his throat, shaking his head abruptly. He doesn’t look nearly as intimidating as you feel he should– more like he’s trying to warn you against something you don’t want. He peers at you from beneath his wavy bangs as he pulls the cigarette from his mouth and uses it to point at you. “Names are really powerful things where I come from, babydoll. Best not to bite off more than you can chew yet. Once we cut a deal– that’s when you get my name.”

You make a face as you mull that over. “So what do I call you, in the meantime? Demon daddy?” 

“You could,” he chuckles. The demon rocks to the side, crossing his legs at the ankles. “If you really wanted to. I wouldn’t mind, it’s flattering.” 

You grunt. “I think I’ll pass on that, actually.” He tilts his head with a sicker, watching you with an amused smile while you shift in place. “So, do I– I mean, you need to know what I want, right? Is that how this starts?”

“No, I know what you want.” He exhales a stream of smoke from his nostrils. “You want power. To get a fair shake, find your place, change your life. Defend yourself against the assholes making that life, well. A living hell.” As he spits out the words, his voice rings sharp through the trees, like the strike of a hammer on glowing metal, shooting sparks off into the air. 

“I want to take all this pain and just… return to sender. Give it back to them, y’know? I never wanted any of it,” you justify. Your voice is too small in comparison with his. “Maybe then I’ll be able to fucking breathe.”

For how little space you allow yourself to take up, he seems to consume the rest of it. He nods slowly. “That’s a fair request, sweetheart.”

“It’s selfish, I know.”

“Making a deal for power is inherently a selfish thing,” he shrugs. “Own it. I’m certainly not judging.”

You let out a shaky breath. You’re still so nervous, being so near him– ten feet away and growing closer every second, it seems, even though neither of you have moved. You feel like, no matter how far you pull back, the flow of fiery lava he seems to embody will keep creeping towards you until you’re burned alive.

His dark eyes glow like coals in the night as he looks you up and down, and then he quickly pushes himself away from the tree. You startle at the abrupt movement, and watch as he swings around it like Gene Kelly on a lamp post. 

When he rounds the tree, he uses the momentum to throw himself toward your circle. You flinch, and he frowns, but continues moving toward you at a slower pace, holding his hands out innocently. “Wanna know a secret? About how all this,” he twirls a finger in the air, indicating the ritual you’re in the middle of, “works?”

You nod, gazing up at him shyly. If you felt at all powerful while casting the circle and starting the ritual, he’s managed to take the wind out of your sails. You can feel the power radiating off of him in waves.

He smirks at you. “You make your petition– when you say the words in that little book,” he points at the volume at your feet, “and that petition is answered by whichever demon caters most to that desire.” He points at himself emphatically, his eyebrows raised. “Me? Infernal majesty of freaks and misfits. I’m your demon daddy.”

You finally giggle, and it makes him smile fondly, like that’s what he’d been gunning for all along. He backs up a step and puffs his cigarette. 

“I’m here to help you, sweetheart.” He regards you for a second, like he’s thinking things over. “That is, as long as you agree to my terms.”

“Terms?” You echo, but you were sort of expecting that. Nothing for nothing, right? “What are the terms?”

“Ah, they’re simple. Very traditional,” he waves his hand like it’s frivolous. He holds his hand out in midair, and just like how he’d conjured the flames, he produces a weathered book. It looks like a composition book that has scribbles and doodles all over the front of it– the same demon head that adorns his shirt. “You sign your name with your blood in my little black book, you hop on one foot with your hand on your head and pledge your undying fealty to the dark lord Kthulu, and then you meet me on the sabbath to kill a child and make them into soup.” 

He smiles, fluttering his eyelashes at you innocently. 

“Are you fucking serious?” You blurt. 

“Of course I’m not fucking serious– what is this, the dark ages?” He snorts as he lowers the composition book. “Nah, we don’t do human sacrifice on the sabbath anymore, it was getting too difficult to evade the witch hunters.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” He flashes you a disarming grin. You can feel yourself halfway smirking as well, incredulous but somehow enjoying his humor. Then he shakes his head and says, seriously, “No, you do have to sign my book, though. And then meet me back here on the full moon to fuck.”

You blink at him, reeling from the whiplash of that. “You… I’m sorry?”

“I find it best not to sugarcoat it, y’know.” He shrugs, “Think of this as a marriage, of sorts. I give you the power to smite thine enemies, live deliciously, blah blah blah, and then you meet me at the crossroads every full moon to be my whore and we fuck like bunnies all night. Simple as that.”

“That’s far from simple.”

“It doesn’t have to be monogamous, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he continues frankly, “except on the full moon. I won’t compromise about that– you’ll be all mine, and I’m all yours. No takesies backsies.”

“No– that’s not–” You exhale, holding your hands over your eyes. “I’m just… not promiscuous like that…”

“Sweetheart.” He waits until you’ve lowered your hands to look at him, and he hums, with a saccharine smile that reminds you of the power you’d felt sweep through the clearing when he arrived. “You won’t be the first good girl I’ve broken, and you won’t be the last. If you’re worried about promiscuity, well… I answered your petition. I know what goes on in that pretty head, and it barely scratches the surface of what I’ve seen and done.” 

The toe of his boot barely nudges the edge of your circle, and a spark crackles in the dark from the impact. The light dances in his eyes longer than it remains in the air, like they caught the spark and ignited. 

“Trust me,” he says, drawing you in with the low register of his voice. “I can give you more than power. I can give you protection. I can give you real happiness. Karma’s a fucking bitch, so I can be, too. This is just such a little thing in return. And who knows… you may even like it.”

You shiver at that, even though his presence feels hot, like his stream of lava is surrounding you, crowding you in, boiling you where you stand. He’s right– you absolutely might like it. 

Because there’s just something magnetic between you, isn’t there? You can sense it, more than any heat and any sort of primal fear you might have instinctively at his presence. There’s a certain pull you feel toward him, emanating even through the salt barrier on the ground. 

You want to wrap yourself in him. Boil you alive, burn you to a crisp, destroy you– you don’t care.

“Or… is it that you don’t like this body?” He wonders aloud, striding backward two steps. He turns, his hand lifting his seemingly ever-burning cigarette to his lips. “Figures– y’know, I can be anything you want me to be, babydoll.”

Confused, you watch as he transforms in front of you. In the length of two steps while he paces across the clearing, his face and body stretches and contorts, until you’re not staring at the same visage anymore. He stops, and he turns to you with his palms up, like he’s waiting for your approval. 

You’re looking at Tom fucking Cruise. 

“Oh, no, absolutely not,” you shake your head vehemently, scowling. You wave your hands demandingly, “Put it back. You were so hot before– please, please go back to the way you were.”

The demon grins and turns his head, throwing the cigarette away. His hair grows back to its previous length, his face morphing as if made of clay until you meet the same pretty smile you’ve come to enjoy looking at. 

He chuckles, grabbing a lock of his hair and drawing it across his lips. “You think I’m hot?”

“Of course,” you murmur, but you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he can hear it. His eyes are embers, blazing at you from beneath his bangs. “Is that what you normally look like? Is that your true form?”

He makes an iffy sound. “It’s what I looked like when I was human. My true form has more horns and unhinged jaws and claws and all that. You wouldn’t like it.”

“I thought you said you could read my mind. Do you know how much monster porn I’ve consumed? That’s hot as shit to me,” you argue, and he snaps his head towards you in surprise. You point at yourself. “Freak and misfit.”

He laughs, and it sounds like the roaring of an out of control fire, burning up everything in its path. He kicks his heel on the ground and steps up to your circle again. “I like you, baby. I really do. What do you say?”

“How do I know that I can trust you?” you ask, an annoying lump forming in your throat with the question. You’ve been burned before by people far less powerful than this demon, yet who still hold so much power over you. However much they have.

“You can’t,” he answers, more honestly than most would. He tilts his head with a crooked smile. “Not to get all preachy on you, but even if I wasn’t a demon… trust is built, not a given. ‘The devil you know,’ right? Better than the one that you don’t.”

“Yeah,” you agree, your voice coming out breathy and winded the longer you gaze up into his eyes.

“Trust me to be… intense, I guess,” he shrugs. “And probably impulsive. But I’ll always deliver on our deal. Be my witch, my wife, my whore– whatever you want to call it, but be mine. I think we’ll have so much fun together.”

“Yeah, I think– I think I will.” You’re nodding, and his smile grows with yours. “I want to.”

“Let me in, sweetheart.”

Your toe scuffs the boundary on the ground, breaking the circle. Immediately, your senses are assaulted by smoke, not just the tobacco he’s been smoking but the scent of a wildfire, of cities burned to ashes, of desolation and destruction and pyroclastic flow and roaring, exploding volcanoes. 

Your demon crosses the line you’d drawn on the ground with ease, producing the worn composition book in his hand again. The cover reads Hellfire Club in chicken scratch handwriting. 

“Are there others?” You ask, prompted by the word Club on the front as he flips open the book to a middle page. An agreement is already written out in red ink. “Do you have more than one, um…”

“Consort?” He whispers in your ear. Goosebumps rise on your skin, and your stomach flutters. “Not for a long time. I’m very picky about my partners. They have to be just as much of a freak as I am.”

Your heart thumps loudly in your chest, although the admission makes you feel… better, in a way. You squint in the dark, but with the exception of the candles around your circle, there’s nothing to allow you to properly read what’s written on the page. 

He sighs, shifting on his feet beside you. “Are you one of those people who’ll read the whole contract?”

“Absolutely I am,” you hum. The book feels heavier in your hands than it should. “Can you give me a light?”

“Jesus Christ.” He produces a flame from his forefinger just as you turn to give him a confused look. 

“Shouldn’t you, like… evaporate after saying that?”

In the yellow glow of the flame, he just blinks at you, looking amused. “Things aren’t as black and white as you think they are, believe me.”

You snatch his wrist and yank his arm closer to the page. His body collides with yours, and he grunts in your ear as he wraps his other arm around you, embracing you from behind. You’re engulfed in the scent of smoke and the heat of his flames, impossibly hot and comforting all the same. 

His hair brushes your shoulder as you read his contract. It’s just a few lines, but the weight they hold will seal your fate. 

The agreement made this night of the dark moon shall henceforth be enacted from the signing of this document, that hereby renders the human party’s soul bound to the infernal party. Witness that the first party must appear before the second party each full moon to lay in matrimonial fashion, and that in return the first party shall be protected and given the powers of the second from here until the human’s mortal passing. 

“Aww, that’s sweet,” you coo, tracing the red ink with your fingers. 

The demon over your shoulder rolls his eyes. “It’s a fucking pre-nup.”

“Doesn’t seem like a fair trade, though, does it?” You murmur. “I mean, I get the power to change my circumstances and you get– what– sex once a month?”

His hand tightens on your waist, and you pause. You turn your head to look at him, and his eyes flicker dangerously, so close to yours. They aren’t just glowing coals- this close, you can see the small details. You can see the swirling, the churning of lava within them.

“It’s not just sex, is it?”

“What do you think making a deal with a demon entails, sweetheart? Read the fine print.”

You look back at the page. There are no other words on it, save for the ones you’ve already read. “I don’t…?”

“It’s your soul, honey,” he mutters, pointing at the word. His mouth is muffled against your shoulder as he peers over it. “I won’t ask anything of you other than the sex, as long as you live. But right now, you’re offering up your soul. And once your life is up, you get to be just like me. Understand?”

“I… yeah. I understand.” You let go of his wrist, but pause over the pages of the book. “I don’t have anything to sign with.”

Wordlessly, the demon takes your hand. You let him caress your wrist, feeling your pulse with his thumb. Then, before you realize what’s happening, a sharp sting makes you yelp as he cuts your skin with his pointed thumbnail. 

He shushes you, letting the blood well up on your skin. “I did say you needed to sign with blood.”

Your voice shakes when you hold your dripping wrist over the page. “I thought you said you were joking.”

“Not about the book. Rules of the trade, I can’t change it.” Your blood splatters the notebook, dripping into the crease of the page. Once he’s satisfied, he lifts your wrist to his mouth and closes his lips around the small wound. It heals in a heartbeat. 

“Is that it, then?” You ask, mesmerized by the sight and feeling of his mouth on your skin. “Don’t you have to sign?”

Your demon kisses your wrist gently, his lips soft, inviting. “This is going to hurt,” he warns, and you nod. The heat of his breath makes your skin tingle, all your nerves on high alert. 

But then that tingling turns into a burn, that turns into a searing pain. You feel like your skin is on fire, an invisible hot brand held against your wrist. You cry out as he holds you close, letting you bury your face into his neck, holding you up as your knees threaten to buckle. 

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs to you as you whimper. He holds your arm as the pain fades into a throbbing ache, cradles your hand against his cheek as he coos into your hair. “You’re so strong. Not many people can handle my mark, you know. Fate works in funny ways.”

Your demon holds you until you can stand on your own, until your breathing evens out and you can compose yourself. He shushes you quietly, rocking you from side-to-side with a soothing hand stroking your head. Then he holds your face, and kisses your tear stained cheeks. The touch of his lips stokes at flames beneath your skin.

“I’ll look forward to our time together, little witch,” he whispers. And with a quick, chaste kiss to your lips, he disappears entirely. 

You stay in the circle for a while, clutching your throbbing wrist and crying frustrated tears. You wonder if you made the right decision, and yet, you don’t understand why you just want him to come back. You miss the comfort of his presence, even if you don’t know enough about him to justify it. All he did was hurt your arm and take your blood and kiss away your tears and make you a witch. 

It’s too late to go back on your decision now. There’s an all-encompassing fire you can feel burning in your veins, emitting from the pulsating wound on your wrist. His power. His fire. 

You pull your hand away from your wrist to finally inspect the mark that he branded you with, declaring you his in the same chicken scratch that had been on the cover of his book. It’s small enough that a well placed bracelet would cover it, but you don’t know that you’ll want to.

Eddie.

Your demon’s name is Eddie.

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt: Parents don’t approve of Dead on main

Fentons are geniuses but not multitaskers. They’re used to giving their all to the most important thing on the list, forgetting even food and sleep, and then going back to something else.

So when they find out that Danny is Phantom, they panic and can’t think of anything else. Well, until they see the Gotham News on TV. What does it matter if their boy’s ghost or not? He's in bad company now and dating a crime lord! That's a real problem. No time to whine about their research about the nature of ghosts. Their boy is in danger! Change of priorities, urgent change of priorities!

~~~~~

So, when Danny moves in with Jason because of identity reveal, Batman prepares for various outcomes. To the flow of GIWs in Gotham, to the parents of the boy who may continue to hunt him and even to the likelihood that Maddie and Jack will accept their child without any questions. Bruce is a genius, but he forgets to include one important variable in the equation, namely his son. Despite the anti-hero’s current status, Red Hood is still remembered by the general public for his bloody methods of controlling Crime Alley. Which could definitely bother..anyone, to be honest. And it's understandable that video of Red Hood and Phantom beating Black Mask up on news did not make a pleasant first impression.

However, Bruce himself know a completely different side of his son and therefore could not tolerate the completely unfounded accusations from Maddie. Batman: How dare you! My boy is an angel. Your son is incredibly lucky to have such a thoughtful and caring partner. Jack: Yeah? I don't think so. How do we know he’s not just going to use Danno powers in his criminal plans? Maddie: We’re taking our boy home and it’s out of the question. Batman: Yeah? And how do we know you’re not just taking him for your experiments? Danny *whispers*: Um, Jay, we should go away, if you remember. Red Hood *whispers*: Yeah, yeah, I know. But just listen to it. Usually we can not get a word out of him. A temporary cure for emotional constipation is a true miracle. May your parents stay longer if, you know, they will not try to shoot you or smth else?

~~~~~

Maddie at home*aggressively filing a petition against anti-ecto laws*: I don’t care if the parental rights aren’t over the ghosts. How dare a bloody furry tell me I have no official right to take my son home and shove my own quotes in my face calling him a thing?!

Vlad who has long wanted to get rid of GIW *enters the house*: Bonjour, need a helping hand? Jack and Maddie *exchange glances without knowing if Danny’s secret should be revealed to their friend*. Vlad: Oh, for Ancients’s sake. *Snaps his fingers and goes Plasmius* Vlad: I’m also a stakeholder in it, okay? ~~~after two hours of talking~~~ Jack: Wait, V-man, if you know about Danny being Phantom, you know about his boyfriend too? Vlad: Red Hood? How could I not. I often visit Gotham for business deals. This is a favorite topic of newspapers and gossip. I don’t know who he is without a mask but I must admit the guy has a good aim, a lot better than you, Jack. Maddie: *pulls out the Ghost Peeler*

[matramancer]

Hoshina Soshiro with a Shinobu like! reader🦋

🦋Synopsis: Amongst the 3rd Division Officers lies one of the JAKDF's most unique fighter's--a swordswoman who fights kaiju with poison.

mitsuri! reader

🦋Tags: shinobu! reader, kny crossover, friends to pining, hoshina soshiro x reader, mostly fluff with slight angst in beginning and end, fem! reader, no beta we die like kanae

“If my combat level was just a bit higher, could I have killed that kaiju?”

That was the thought that rang through your head for years, from the moment you held your dying sister in your hands, to the times where you found yourself alone in your research lab, craning a vial of poison between your fingers.

The world’s first anti-kaiju poison.

You really didn’t know how exactly you qualified enough for the Defense Force. When you enrolled with your sister, you figured that she’d be the only one eligible to enter. Your body was smaller, and your combat power was low. You could barely wield a gun properly.

But throughout your weaknesses lies your hidden strength. You were exceptionally intelligent, using your ingenuity to focus your energy on other aspects of yourself you were keen on.

Despite your blatant hatred of them, you studied kaiju immensely, and turned to insects amongst other creatures as a base of study. Many, many kaiju shared similarities with a common animal counterpart. Science never lied, and if there was one way you could make up for your lack of manpower, it was your understanding. There were things you could do.

Your captain started to notice how intuitive you were–eventually landing you a spot in the research team. 

You were content on not being dispatched or not being in the front lines as much, taking the opportunity you had gratefully nonetheless. You were still part of the action, and you got to observe specimens more closely. You even made friends with another officer, Hoshina Soshiro.

Hoshina and you had a unique bond, one riddled with understanding and mutual respect. Hell, the two of you go back a long way–you were actually batchmates. He was there when you got frustrated over your low combat scores after your shooting assessment, your older sister sporting a much kinder smile in contrast to your fuming face. 

(He’s a bit reminded of himself and his brother)

He understands that feeling of being underestimated, of being swept under the rug. He knows most about how your small size can get under your skin. He shares that frustration of not being enough, not with a gun. Not with what the Defense Force expects of the two of you. 

The two of you became fast comrades in arms, as you came to understand Hoshina’s own battles throughout his entire life. You encouraged each other to move forward, even vouching for his swordsmanship.

Similarly, if it weren’t for Hoshina noticing how nimble and swift you were, you probably wouldn’t have believed in your abilities a lot sooner. Although your combat level for shooting was low, you were definitely exceptional in terms of maneuvers. 

Though Hoshina pushed himself to further be recognized for his talents and exceptional skill, something you actively encouraged, you initially stood in the backlines with your much smaller role. You were content with being behind your sister and everyone else, even as you secretly envied them. Feeling so much envy over how much bigger and stronger everyone’s backs were as they moved forward, that it made your chest hurt sometimes. 

But when you lost your sister, everything changed.

Hoshina saw how it broke you. You were always quite temperamental–brash to him, even. Always so hot headed in contrast to your sister. But now, your anger has gone cold. Your hatred for kaiju turned into prickling ice, and on the times Hoshina caught you slipping off your facade, your immense hatred was so strong that the veins in your face seemed close to popping.

your resolve changed. You were to fight, to put your life on the line in any way you could. You threw yourself in your research, and for a certain period of time, only Hoshina was able to get through to you.

Then, one day, you emerged from your lab with something that could change the world..

You held in your hands the world’s first lethal anti kaiju poison. And you had every intention to test it out yourself. You had thrown yourself into the field, implementing an entirely new outlet of kaiju extermination all by yourself. For that, you were admirable.

And as kaiju poison was still a very new and experimental invention—your invention—you were the only front liner allowed to wield it.

You spent a great deal of time honing your skills with Hoshina–if you were to fight on the frontlines with this poison as your main weapon, then you were going to do it right. With half the physical strength your fellow officers had, you’d train four times as hard to make up for it. And if there was no stopping you, then Hoshina swore that he’d be there every step of the way, just as you did for him.

Your style of fighting was unique amongst the Defense Force, your high agility and field expertise a key cornerstone in your combat style. Where your combat level in gunmanship was low, similar to Hoshina, you held potential with swordsmanship. 

Although you were aggrieved over your physique yet again being a hindrance (you just couldn’t compare your swinging strength to Hoshina’s), you were particularly adept in delivering forward thrusts and piercing motions. Perfect for injecting poison.

It fits you, Hoshina notes. You were never one for brute force.

The man always had a kick seeing the flabbergasted faces of the new recruits during their first time seeing you on the field. It’s something he looks forward to with a certain pride.

Afterall, you‘ve been with each other since the very beginning. When the Defense Force told you both to just quit. When the both of you just kept biting back, fighting for a spot to prove your existence. When you looked at him with so much pride in your eyes, congratulating him for securing his spot as vice captain. When he attached himself to your hip even in your lab, up until being the person standing right next to you when you received honors as well as your promotion.

Though you and Hoshina fought valiantly for your own battles, the other was always there to push the other forward when things felt too stifling.

So he couldn’t help but burst out the biggest smiles whenever he hears that you’re joining the frontlines on a mission with him again—this time, it would be your first mission with the newbies.

It was a silent night before a swarm of spider-like yoju invaded a part of the city, opting for an immediate dispatch of the 3rd Division. Whilst Captain Ashiro was to deal with the Honju, the many, many hordes of yoju required quite a bit of manpower in the frontlines due to its sheer numbers.

That was how Reno and Iharu found themselves cornered, the spider yoju proving to be a much trickier threat than expected. The darkness proved to be another hurdle—it made the dark colored yoju harder to spot. If they didn’t act fast, the swarm would overtake them…

“Iharu! I’ll fire rounds and give you cover! You hurry and call backup!” Reno keeps his shots steady, keeping the horde at bay.

Iharu immediately quips back, firing his own gun. “Hah?! No way am I leaving you—ugh!” He winces, narrowly dodging an attack. Things weren’t looking good, the swarm was imminent.

“HURRY, IHARU! WE’LL BOTH HAVE A BETTER CHANCE WITH REINFORCEMENTS!”

“—Oh my, so you’re the one who’s been firing freeze rounds.”

The two boys froze, goosebumps forming on Reno's skin in particular as the boy felt a sudden presence already by his side. Who— when did you—?!

With as little as a blink of an eye passing, the two boys watched with wide eyes as you nimbly dodged a group of spiders heading your way, as if you fluttered through the air.

Flabbergasted, Reno and Iharu watched as you made it through the infested street in record time, not letting a single yoju touch you. “So fast!”

“Heads up boys,” Hoshina chuckles, speaking into the comms. You had made it to Ichikawa’s position. “Watch your superior closely.”

You stayed so calm and collected, even when the situation seemed dire. Your presence on the battlefield was admirable. “Yoju behavior confirmed. Despite resembling arachnids, every cluster consists of a head yoju similar to the behavior of social insects.” You calmly spoke into your comms, withdrawing your sword. “Prioritize on taking out the mother.”

Reno couldn’t help but marvel at your sword—it was in a shape that he’d never seen before. Were you like the vice captain? But there was no way you could slash through anything with that…

Iharu’s eyes widened as a stray spider tried to sneak up behind you, promptly yelling at you. “WATCH OUT!”

Mid sentence, Iharu realizes that you had already lept to the air once again, and in the blink of an eye with unfathomable speed, you shifted through the yoju, leaving stinging pierces through the hoard. 

“Butterfly Dance: Caprice.”

The two boys watched on in awe. It all happened so fast—but wait, none of the kaiju’s bodies or limbs seem severed?

It was silent, Reno and Iharu still catching their breaths as they scanned the vicinity. The kaiju were intact, but they weren’t moving. “Eliminating a kaiju doesn’t necessarily mean shooting or slashing it down.”

Your voice dropped to a sudden chill. “…Because there are swordswomen like me who use poison.”

As you finished your sentence, the two boys watched in awe as all of the yoju you hit crumbled to the ground, writhing in pain as their bodies shriveled. Then, they all dropped dead. The danger zone had been cleared.

Reno and Iharu watched as you spun your sword in circles, cleaning off the blood from the yoju before moving to face them. “Defense Force Division 3 Head of Research—(L/N) (Y/N),” you smiled, finally introducing yourself. “It’s nice to meet you, new recruits.”

You earned a place for yourself right alongside Hoshina as another remarkable swordsman in the 3rd Division. Your contributions to kaiju warfare were not only quickly making waves, but beckoning your presence in the field of bioweapons. 

To be frank, it was a bit daunting, but if it gave you any chance to get closer to vanquishing the kaiju, you’d keep working hard.

Nowadays, only Hoshina knows of your prior disposition before your jovial, more easygoing front today. How you had morphed a new smile and attitude, akin to your sister’s. According to Hoshina, although your face was tranquil and soft, your eyes held full bloodlust, a desire of vengeance. A show of your actual temperament.

The only person you’ve really let your guard down around since losing your sister was him and him alone. He’s your closest confidant. 

In addition to being the head of research, you oversaw the medical bay of the 3rd Division sometimes. After all, you did also carry medical expertise.

Perhaps the motivation behind that was from your sense of responsibility, as well as this small tug in your head that tells you to take good care of the division Hoshina was entrusted with.

Despite your kindhearted demeanor however, everyone knows not to trifle with you, especially when it comes to medical manners. No one under the 3rd Division has ever “forced themselves” to train before being fully healed ever since you started overseeing them.

Mina Ashiro herself testified to it. “Never again,” she states, not after experiencing your temper.

Well, whatever keeps the division healthy!

Hoshina enjoys crashing into your lab from time to time. He’s your most frequent visitor, to the point where you have a mug and some throw pillows on the couch reserved for him. He was like a cat going in and out.

“(Y/N)~” “Everywhere I go, I hear his voice.” “Oi, I’m right here.”

"..." When he feels your aura darken, he immediately shuts up and sits politely.

“(Y/N)~~ let’s go outside and train.” “It’s raining.” “Then let’s train inside.” 

No matter how naggy and clingy he became however, you always keep him close. Because that’s how he shows how he cares. 

“I know you’re there–” You don’t turn around from your seat, before a cold sensation on your cheek elicits a gasp out your mouth and forces you to turn back. You’re met with a bag filled with some warm takeout, and two cans of coffee.

Balancing everything on his hands was Hoshina Soshiro, grinning all the while. Your expression softens. “--Soshiro.”

“Missed you at lunch,” he starts. “Pity. All the new recruits were asking about you. guess I have you all to myself right now though.” You don’t know if he’s joking or not, but his tone shifted a bit into territory that felt more intimate.

These were really small efforts from Hoshina that you knew all too well, making sure you didn’t hole yourself up in your lab. And you always appreciate him and all he's done. 

Now, let’s talk about the elephant in the room. You meeting Kafka as Kaiju No. 8 did NOT go smoothly.

Your strong hatred for kaiju ran deep, and Hoshina knew that. Your entire life’s work revolved around that. So when the entire debacle with Kafka happened while you were off base during the attack, Hoshina mentally prepared himself for the havoc that was to come.

The definition of “Don’t freak out when I tell you, but……”

Spoiler, of course you found out. And quick. You were the 3rd Division’s head of research who specialized in kaijus–of course you would know. In fact, On your rush to the 3rd Division’s base, you were immediately ushered to study him in captivity. 

Like that was a good impression you’d give to someone who developed the world’s first and most lethal kaiju poison!

“(Y/N),” Hoshina calls out to you, throwing formalities aside. His eyes shifted to your hands, seeing your knuckles grow white, veins visible. “I know what you’re thinking.”

Calm down. “--Soshiro.” You replied, coldly. Hoshina holds a breath at that. He knew you would let your logic and rational thought prevail, but the hatred in you ran so deep, you could slip into a near constant state of anger if you let it get to you.

A new sensation enters your hand. It’s Soshiro’s, you realize, tugging on your own as if to ground you. He hopes it helps bring you back to reality. “I’m here–the 3rd Division is. We all wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t on our side. He saved us, (Y/N).” His gaze and yours meet. “He saved me.”

Luckily (and very thankfully, Hoshina would add on), you grew to become more understanding of Kafka’s disposition, and set aside your antagonistic views as you slowly opened your heart. You even properly thanked him for protecting the 3rd Division.

In fact, you’re quite compassionate with the man now. You check up on Kafka as often as you could, even providing him the fastest updates of any developments you had on his case. He’s also a great talker, you note, and the two of you even start doing catch up sessions over whatever recent developments have happened over tea whenever it was time for his check ups. 

Hoshina feels a bit jealous that he’s no longer the only token visitor of your lab, not that he’ll ever admit it.

With the stakes of no. 9 rising, you knew that the situation would only get more and more dire. You’ve been getting busier days both in and out of the lab, studying samples of the recent high magnitude specimens and observing any abnormalities in kaiju behavior. 

The hypothesis and predictions you’ve marked up however, don’t sound an ounce reassuring. A high class disaster seemed imminent, and when the time comes, you fear that your poison might not be enough.

Not with your sword alone, at least.

On one particular late night in your lab, you glance towards Hoshina. For once, the two of you were silent. You had finished for the night, whilst Hoshina probably popped in to check on you after a midnight session of image training. No kaiju attacks, no sirens, just the night sky ever present through your large windows. “Soshiro,” your voice immediately catches his attention, his full focus now on you.  “Could you promise me something?” 

“Should there be a kaiju–a strong one, and we aren’t able to defeat it,” his eyes widened, the grin on his face gone. “Could you finish the job?”

You let your words stay in the air, your eyes long downturned to the research papers on your desk. You escaped his distraught gaze, attempting to focus on the reports strewn about before they fly out of your vision, Soshiro’s entire being clouding your senses in their place.

The sight of his deep maroon irises caught your breath, and you quickly realized that Soshiro is being completely serious with you right now. He let out a silent plea, with both his eyes and his soul. “Please. Please don’t say that with that face.”

That night, as he held you close, you’re both reminded of the bond that ran tight between the two of you, a bond so strong after everything that you’ve been through together. Something that was forged through pain and joy alike. An innate force that was proof of how the two of you had become so important to each other. It spoke of the same thing,

“I can’t afford to lose you/I can’t afford to lose you too.”

--

A/N: Whew... thank you to those who enjoyed my mitsuri post !!!! mitsuri and shinobu are my absolute favs in kny, and it was rlly fun to write them into kaiju no. 8--i'd love to do more in the future.

[milkb0nny]

Drift to Impress

Pairing: Dean x car obsessed fem!reader

Summary: You knew your ways around cars and handled your own one quite skillfully. Dean didn’t know until you pulled a move on him on the highway in the night.

Note: I rewatched Fast and Furious Tokyo Drift and got inspired by this clip. And oh my, what power move that would be on Dean . <3

Content: drifting, cars, heavy flirting, fluff

Word Count: 1k

You hadn’t known the Winchester brothers for long. All you knew about them was that they hunted the supernatural and that your city was heavily affected.

They had originally come into your garage after Baby got banged up and the engine started struggling. You were a mechanic - and a quite skilled one.

Cars were your passion and your lust; you adored the smell of rubber and oil, you admired the speed and power, and you loved the sound of a humming engine. All that made your heart jump. Receiving new car parts spiked your joy.

While you fixed their car, you found yourself in the company of these two gentlemen. One more stern than the other, and one more flirtatious than the other. But when you heard them talking about the missing people in your city, you grew alert. A friend of yours had vanished a few days ago, and maybe they could help you find them.

That was the start of your journey together, which had only been going on for a week. You were intrigued by their work as you dived deeper, and you found joy in helping them. You believed their theories, even if they sounded unimaginable. Though those were the only clues available; the only way of finding lost people.

And one Winchester man, in particular, charmed you in a way no one else did. He flirted with you endlessly, but you weren’t about to let him be the only cocky one on Earth.

This morning, Sam and Dean left the motel room quite early. You, on the other hand, stayed in town, researching new cases in the newsletters. As the hours passed, you lost yourself in the scattered papers and the mass of newsletters. So much text but no viable information for the case. Before you knew it, the sky turned dark, and the weather cooled.

Your eyes scanned the ink on the white paper when suddenly, you found a clue. A clue that might save lives… including your friend’s. You were quick to dial Sam on your cellphone.

“Yeah, what’s up?” Sam’s rough voice rang through your phone. He sounded distressed, probably because they hadn’t gotten closer to the damn case.

“I found something. Where are you guys at?” You said while searching your car keys in your pockets. Hell, where were they?

Dean replied, “Wait, can’t you just tell us?”

“Nah, that’d be too easy,” your cocky voice slipped out. “I don’t know if this is really something. Maybe you guys should overlook it before I give you false hope. I’m not that deep into the game.”

Sam told you their direction and read out the nearest road sign.

“We’ll drive a little slower. There’s no one out here anyway,” Sam explained before you ended the call.

In a matter of seconds, you were on the road, your engine roaring deeply, and the numbers on your dashboard climbing fast. You loved to drive this sleek, bright car with the underbody lighting, the chrome rims, and the big wing on the back. The Winchesters hadn’t seen you drive this beast yet because you usually arrived everywhere on foot and the motel wasn’t far from your apartment.

The distant hum of the engine and the occasional screech of tires set the backdrop for a night filled with adrenaline. After all, you needed to arrive quickly.

You sat behind the wheel of your midnight-black Nissan 240sx, feeling the rhythmic pulse of its engine, ready to make an impression.

You were more than ready to surprise Dean, to rob him of that cocky smile and leave him speechless.

Then you spotted them. Two men in an Impala - Baby - driving slowly yet cautiously. That’s when you decided to make your move, a grin tugging at your lips as the idea took hold. You’d done this a hundred times, pulling this move on your brothers or even your boss, but never on a man you found madly attractive.

“What’s that flashy car?” Dean’s eyebrow furrowed when he spotted the flashy lights in the rearview mirror.

Your hand gripped the steering wheel as your eyes locked onto your target. You eased the car forward, smooth and under control, catching their attention without saying a word. The boys’ eyes turned toward you, curious, just as you hit the throttle and flicked the wheel.

The Nissan spun sideways, its tires letting out a sharp screech as the back end swung around. The front bumper skimmed within inches of their car, the precision perfect, the control undeniable. The car’s tires sprayed a fine mist of water, as you effortlessly completed a flawless drift around their vehicle.

“Is that…?!” Sam asked, surprised, clearly in shock that you’d do something so reckless.

Dean was speechless, just as you’d anticipated. He’d never encountered a woman taking such a risk just to impress him. Yet, there you were, a wide grin on your lips.

Your car slid to a halt beside them, its engine purring confidently, as if it knew it had just stolen the show. Hell yeah, you did.

The window rolled down, and you leaned out slightly, your gaze sharp and playful. “Hope I didn’t startle you,” you said, your voice dripping with charm.

Dean smirked, leaning slightly forward, his flirtatious voice matching yours. “That was bold,” he replied, his tone teasing. “But can you do it twice?”

Your grin widened as you revved the engine, the sound echoing through the night. “Stick around,” you said. “I’ve got plenty more where that came from.”

You handed the clues and sheets of paper through the car window, for Dean to give to Sam.

Sam was grateful for having something to distract him from the tension that hung between you two. Though, attention swiftly shifted.

“You got it,” Sam said enthusiastically. “Let us check that out.”

“Say no more.”

With that, you shifted gears, the car launching forward with a burst of speed, leaving the faint scent of burnt rubber. The look on Dean’s face was worth all the rubber your expensive tires lost, and Dean’s heart raced just as fast as your car did.

“Damn…”

[dstryvampres]

Smoke Signals

Jonathan Crane x Reader

Summary: Dr Crane is tired of you talking back.

Warnings: smut, fingering, age gap(reader is early 20s, crane is mid 40s), power imbalance, brat taming(I think??), reader is a smoker, dub con, p in v, unprotected, praise, degradation, spanking, creampie

Word count: 2.2k

The trek to Dr Crane office on the fifth floor was quick and easy, seeing as there was no one else using the elevator because it was so late at night. When you push open the door to Dr Crane’s office it creaks, alerting him immediately to your presence.

“I thought I told you to quit smoking before you come to my office,” is what Dr Crane decides on greeting you with. His face is stern, pen in hand as he writes out a statement on a student’s quiz.

“Yeah, well I was fiending all day and they don’t let you have a smoke within 15 meters of the psychology testing centre. Hard to get a smoke break in,” You quip back, hanging your tote bag over the back of a chair before sliding between it and Dr Crane’s desk to sit.

“Well, if you won’t quit all together, you could at least have the common courtesy to not reek of it near me,” He scoffs, clicking his pen and setting it down on his desk.

You toy with the fabric of your sheer black tights as Dr Crane sets aside whatever he was working on before and brings out two sheets of paper. Two rubrics, one for him, which he settles in front of him, and one for you, which he flips towards you.

“Do you want anything to drink?” Dr Crane asks, standing up from his desk and heading towards the table near the window. He clicks on the kettle, staring at it for a couple seconds before he starts to hear it bubble up before he turns to you again.

“Just any tea is fine, except ginger, I want something herbal tonight,” you reply, rummaging through your tote bag looking for a pen to use for tonight.

“So herbal tea?” Jonathan asks, shaking his head at you in the corner of your eye.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I said,” you sit up straight once again when you find your pencil case, plopping it down on Dr Crane’s darkwood desk.

You hear a sigh from the professor as he turns around to look out the window at the rain, his fingers toying around with the packaging of a tea bag. No matter if Dr Crane happens to be your boss, you can’t deny that he’s insanely attractive. Young looking face with high cheekbones, blue eyes that stare holes into your being, dark brown hair that he somehow styles perfectly without trying that hard, all packaged in suits that do him far too many favours. Sure he has a slightly bitter attitude, but you’re no better. With all the times you snap back and push his buttons he’s far too patient with you, and seems to genuinely care about your well being. Whether that care is actually genuine or is just to avoid having to find another TA, you’re not one hundred percent sure.

A click comes from the kettle, and soon enough Dr Crane sets down a steaming mug in front of you before sliding into his own chair with a mug in his hand.

“Thank you,” you say, blowing on the steaming liquid in hopes to cool it down quicker.

“Don’t burn yourself.”

Dr Crane grabs his pen before directing both of your attention to the rubric and assignment guide. He drones on about the basics, word count, percentage to dock based off of just principle things, before delving into more important specifics to the assignment. For a supposed research essay, the need to include the students own fears into the mix was a weird choice to be a necessity. There’s no need to ask about it, the conditions for the assignment have already been set in stone, the due date is in about a week.

“Everything making sense?” Dr Crane asks, looking at you, eyebrows furrowed together.

You nod in response, reaching over to grab a highlighter from Dr Crane’s collection across the table. Maybe you should bring up the weird conditions of the assignment…

“Actually, just one thing confuses me about this assignment,” You start, looking for any signs of anger from Dr Crane, knowing just how often you seem to push his buttons before continuing, “why do the students need to disclose their own fears in this assignment, it’s supposed to be a research essay on different ways the brain copes with fear.”

Dr Crane clenches his jaw, looking away from you annoyed. Acting like you were questioning the fundamentals of grammar and not some strange one off point he decided to add to this assignment. He shakes his head, taking off his glasses and laying them down on the table.

“You’re not the one running the class, are you?” Dr Crane asks, voice showing just thin his patience has become in a matter of seconds.

“Well, obviously not, but I’m just-”

You’re cut off with the screeching of Dr Crane’s chair as he stands up, walking towards the door. Fuck, is he going to leave? Is he going to ask you to leave? Are you being fired out of one of the best looking jobs on your resume? When you hear the click of the lock on the door, you’re not sure if your fate is better or worse than any of the options thought of before. Nevertheless, your body tenses up and your head starts to fog up, whatever is going to happen you don’t think it will be too pleasant.

“You know what? I’m so sick of you always thinking you know better than me,” He slowly walks over to you as he speaks, shoes clicking on the linoleum floor of his office.

“I don’t think that,” you respond, voice strained. Now he’s standing over where you’re seated, forcing you to look upwards at him. You feel so small and powerless in this moment. Maybe, it’s only now and here, in this position, that you finally remember that this man holds your entire future as a psychologist in his hands.

“I want you to remember who has more leverage here, who can get you into the best jobs in the state,” it’s like he can read your mind.

You gulp and close your eyes. You’ve spent the last year and three months of your masters degree and time as a TA under Dr Crane pushing back against him, challenging the man. You’re sure that it’s here, in his locked office that he will give you a piece of his mind before dropping you completely. Leaving you and your master’s thesis to flounder in the last half of it, beg for anyone to aid you in the specific thesis everyone knew only Crane was suitable to supervise at this university. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Please, don’t drop me and my thesis. I won’t challenge you ever again, I’ll do anything you want, please,” you beg, opening your eyes to stare at Crane’s. Hoping the eye contact would connect with some deeper part of him, but his blue eyes stared back, cold and emotionless.

“Anything?” Crane asks, quirking an eyebrow at your begging.

“Yes, anything. I’ll get on my knees and beg you, I’ll mark every assignment myself-”

“Face the table and put your hands on top of it,” Crane demands.

“What?” Your mind short circuits at his request, not expecting something like that.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to challenge me ever again?” Dr Crane sighs, crossing his arms, waiting for you to obey.

You follow his request, placing both your hands on the table, looking down at the dark oak wood. It’s cold underneath your palms, but that doesn’t help with the sweat accumulating onto your palms. Dr Crane hums behind you, seemingly happy with your compliance to his request. He kicks your feet away from the desk, making your butt stick out more.

“Now, I want you to spread your legs for me,” Dr Crane puts a hand on your ass, squeezing the flesh. Your eyebrows furrow, taking a second too long for his liking and earning a slap to the ass, you quickly move to spread your legs.

“Good girl,” Dr Crane hums, massaging the spot where he hit you previously. You whine in response, feeling a heat start to grow in your cunt.

Dr Crane smacks your ass again, a little lighter than before, almost teasing. His other hand is placed on your ass, both hands move down to your thighs, then back up to your ass, this time sliding under your skirt and flipping it up. Your pink panties are visible through the sheer black tights causing Dr Crane to sigh out.

“You feel how hard I am, slut?” Dr Crane asks, you hear the smirk in his voice as he presses his hard-on into your ass. You moan, feeling the weight of it press into your wet cunt and soiled panties.

Quickly Dr Crane rips open the thin fabric of your tights, allowing for direct access to your panties and cunt. He feels your wet heat through your panties, quickly moving them to the side to expose your cunt. You moan as the cold air of his office hits your cunt.

“You’re so wet. Do you let all your professors fuck you? Or am I a sort of desprate case?” Dr Crane cooes, ghosting his fingers over your exposed cunt.

He runs his fingers up and down your cunt, collecting your wetness over them before pushing them inside of you. The intrusion is so unexpected it makes you gasp, pull away from it briefly. He fucks you with his fingers shallowly, at a bored pace. You push back onto his fingers, begging for more. Dr Crane removes his finger from your cunt, and you whine in response.

“Fuck, you’re a desperate whore huh?” Dr Crane laughs, giving your ass another harsh slap.

Behind you Dr Crane unzips his pants, freeing his cock. He lines it up with your hole and just stays there. No matter how much you try to push back and whine for him to put it in he isn’t moving.

“You’ve been such a bitch, I don’t think you deserve my cock. Why don’t you beg for it?” you can hear the cocky look on Dr Crane’s face just from his voice. Though it doesn’t seem to matter much as you open your mouth to beg.

“Please Dr Crane, I’ll be such a good girl. You can use me anytime and I’ll never be a bitch again, as long as I have your cock, please doctor please,” you plead, wiggling your hips.

“Good girl.”

Dr Crane pushes inside of you. His cock is average length, but stretches you out in a way no other man ever has. It makes your head spin as he spears you on his cock.

“Fuck, I didn’t expect a whore like you to be so tight,” Dr Crane pants out, putting both of his hands on your waist.

He pulls out of you slowly, before slamming back into your cunt. Setting a brutal pace as soon as he slams back into you a second time. Only faltering when he smacks your ass. You yelp out each time, before pushing back onto his cock. Dr Crane continually stretched you out and hit the most sensitive spots inside of you. Your legs start to shake half way through, the only thing stopping you from crumbling being Dr Crane’s cock and hands. He pushes you back on him each time, almost demanding you take him in further.

“You fuck me so good doctor,” you moan out, “Can I cum doctor?”

“Yeah, cum all over my cock dumb slut,” Dr Crane says, speeding up the pace.

One of his hands reaches down from your hips to your clit, rubbing fast and hard on it. A touch so hard and borderline painful on the sensitive bundle of nerves tips you over the edge in mere seconds. Your knees buckle. Stars flood your vision. Your boss fucking you through the whole thing.

You start to weep from overstimulation, tears welling in your eyes when you come back from your high. Dr Crane is still fucking you in the same brutal pace.

“Sluts like you don’t get breaks until I come too,” Dr Crane snarls out at you and your weeping, earning another sharp smack to your ass.

The tears spill out over your eyes as you cum again all over his cock. Your walls clenching and seizing around Dr Crane so hard his cock becomes painful as it pumps in and out of you.

He speeds up and his pace starts to become more aggressive, until Dr Crane stills inside of you. His cum rushes into your cunt, holding himself inside you after both of you have finally come down from your high. Once Dr Crane pulls out of you, you feel as his cum comes spilling out of your cunt.

“I’ll give you your share of the papers to mark next monday,” Dr Crane says, tucking his cock away and zipping up his pants. “I expect to not hear any confusion about the grading from you, I feel like I explained myself pretty well.

taglist: @paradiseprincesss @xanaxiii @luluartpop

[heliosunny]

Love your writing 😍 about anaxa and phainon

Hoping that I can see more of them✨

Since I've just updated Yandere!Phainon, I'll write Yandere!Anaxa. Thank you for supporting me🩵

Yandere!Anaxa x Florist!Reader

In a quiet kingdom known for its lush flora, you run a small but thriving flower shop, using your magic to cultivate rare and powerful plants. Strong-willed and sharp-tongued, you care little for wealth or titles, only for the flowers that bloom under your care. Then he walks in.

A man shrouded in mystery and danger, arrives with a strange plant in hand and an offer to research it

The bell above your shop’s door chimed softly, signaling a customer. You barely looked up from where you were tending to a tray of delicate orchids, brushing your fingertips over their petals.

“Welcome” you said, voice steady yet warm. “Take your time.”

No response. How strange, most visitors, whether locals or travelers, at least offered a greeting. You turned your gaze toward the entrance only to find a man standing motionless, barely past the threshold.

And the moment your eyes met his, chaos erupted. The vines and roots in your shop, normally docile, swaying gently under your magic suddenly lashed out, twisting and lunging toward him like living creatures with a mind of their own. Thorns glinted under the lantern light, reaching to pierce into his skin.

You moved instantly.

Lifting a hand, you called forth your magic, your power sweeping through the air like an unseen force. The aggressive vines froze, caught mid-air, mere inches from his throat. With a flick of your wrist, they recoiled and slithered back, retreating into the soil.

You let out a slow breath before turning your sharp gaze to the stranger.

Now that you had a better look, you could see why your plants had reacted so violently.

The man before you was no ordinary traveler.

Dark fabric clung to his tall frame, adorned with silver accents and lined with enchanted thread that shimmered faintly under the light. His hair, a cascade of green, framed striking eyes that watched you without a hint of fear.

If anything…

He looked amused.

“I see” he murmured, his tone smooth, almost lazy. “They don’t like me.”

Your grip on your magic remained firm. “That makes two of us.”

A soft chuckle escaped him. “Oh? And here I thought florists were supposed to be welcoming.”

You didn’t smile. “Florists don’t typically get customers who trigger an unprovoked magical attack.”

His gaze flickered to the now-docile vines before returning to you. “Unprovoked, hm?”

You narrowed your eyes. There was something about him. Something unnatural. Your plants had never reacted like that before, not even to dangerous men. Which meant… This man was something else entirely.

Despite the warning signs, you did not turn him away. You were no fool. Forcing him out would only make him return.

Instead, you did what you did best, you observed.

You allowed him to browse your shop, watching from behind the counter as he idly picked up flowers, rolling their stems between his gloved fingers.

The tension in your shop was thick. Your plants remained still, but you could feel them watching, waiting.

Finally, the man turned to you, holding up a single white lily. “I’ll take this one.”

You eyed him. “A white lily?”

He hummed. “Is that a problem?”

You set down your gardening shears, stepping out from behind the counter. “That flower means purity and devotion.”

Another chuckle. “How fitting.”

You frowned. “For you?”

“For you” he corrected smoothly.

You stared. He held the lily up, brushing the petals along his fingers. “You protected me, didn’t you? Even when your magic screamed otherwise?”

“You weren’t in danger” you said evenly. “I was protecting my shop from needless damage. Not you.”

He tilted his head. “Is that so?”

Before you could respond, he did something unforgivable.

He brought the lily to his lips and bit down on the petals.

You snapped. Without thinking, you moved. In a blur of motion, you grabbed his wrist and yanked him forward, slamming him against the wooden counter with surprising strength.

His smirk faltered, eyes widening just slightly.

He wasn’t expecting this.

You leaned in close, voice dangerously soft.

“Don't do that to my flowers.”

His smirk returned, sharper this time. “Apologies” he purred, unbothered by his current position. “I was just curious.”

Your grip on his wrist remained firm. Tight to the point you could feel his pulse. Steady. Unnaturally calm. A normal man would have tensed, would have recoiled at your sudden aggression.

But he didn't. He simply studied your reaction.

Your eyes narrowed. “Who are you?”

For the first time, he didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, his gaze softened—just slightly.

Then, he smiled. Is that interest you saw in his eyes?

“I think” he murmured, tilting his head ever so slightly, “I’d like to find that out with you.”

And somehow, despite everything, despite the danger that curled around him like a cloak, you had the sinking feeling that this was only the beginning.

-----

The moment Anaxa placed the plant in your hands, you felt it. It was alive. Not in the way all plants were, this was something else.

The veins in its leaves pulsed faintly, like a slow heartbeat. The roots twitched as if sensing your presence, curling toward your fingers.

You tore your gaze away from it, leveling Anaxa with a sharp look. “Where did you find this?”

His smirk was slow, deliberate. “Does it matter?”

“It does if I’m the one researching it.”

He chuckled, tilting his head slightly. “Then consider it a mystery for you to solve.”

You frowned. He was hiding something.

But that didn’t matter, not yet.

For now, the plant held your full attention. You ran your fingers along the stem, noting the strange texture. Not quite wood, not quite flesh. Somewhere in between.

“How long do I have?” you asked.

Anaxa’s eyes flickered, amused by your immediate interest. “No rush. Take as long as you need.”

“Even if it takes years?”

His lips curled. “I have patience.”

You narrowed your eyes. That was a lie.

No man who smirked like that, who watched you like that, was capable of patience.

But you said nothing. Instead, you turned away, already lost in thought.

This plant… it could change everything.

Days turned to weeks, and the more you uncovered about the plant, the more you realized it was wrong. It absorbed magic. Fed off of it. Craved it.

Your greenhouse had become a battleground of willpower, your magic straining to contain the unnatural hunger of its roots.

But more concerning than the plant itself was him. Anaxa visited often. Too often.

Always watching. Always hovering just close enough that his presence became a shadow at your back, his warmth bleeding into your space.

It was suffocating and you hated that. You didn't use to working under such stressful environment.

“You’re distracted today” he murmured, leaning against the wooden counter as he watched you work.

You didn’t look up. “I have a guest who refuses to leave. I wonder why.”

A low chuckle. “Is that what I am? A guest?”

“What else would you be?”

He hummed, pushing off the counter. You felt him step closer, his presence a tangible weight behind you.

“You tell me, florist.”

The way he said that title, it wasn’t mockery.

It was fond.

You exhaled sharply, fingers tightening around your shears. “You’re getting in the way of my work.”

“I don’t mind” he said smoothly.

“I do.”

He didn’t move.

Instead, he reached out, slow, measured, testing. You felt the ghost of his fingertips skim over your wrist, a barely-there touch and yet it burned.

You turned sharply, your shears flashing between the two of you, the blade stopping just before his throat.

Anaxa merely raised an eyebrow, utterly unbothered. Then, slowly, he smiled.

“You’re so beautiful when you threaten me.”

You stared at him, heart pounding and something inside you twisted.

Not in anger.

Not in fear.

In something far more dangerous.

And from the way his eyes darkened, he knew. Your breath was steady. Your hand did not shake. The shears remained pressed lightly against his throat, just enough for him to feel the cold metal against his skin. But Anaxa… he wasn’t afraid. If anything, he leaned in.

His voice was thick with amusement. “What now, little florist? Will you cut me down like your flowers?”

You exhaled slowly, eyes locked onto his. “Maybe.”

His smirk widened. “Do it.”

Your fingers tensed. Damn him. He was testing you. You hated that part of you, the part he had awakened, that wanted to push back.

You lowered the shears, stepping away. “I have work to do.”

Anaxa chuckled, touching his throat where the shears had been, mockingly thoughtful. “Mm. A shame. I would have liked to see how deep you'd go.”

You shot him a glare. “Don’t tempt me.”

Despite everything, you still let him into your shop.

Anaxa never made himself scarce, always finding reasons to linger, offering idle conversation, watching as you worked, leaving small, carefully chosen gifts.

A book on ancient flora he knew you’d been searching for. A rare seed he procured from a distant kingdom. Even something as simple as a hot cup of tea on particularly exhausting days.

It was all calculated. And it was working. Because despite your wariness, despite knowing exactly what kind of man he was, you found yourself hesitating less when he got close. And Anaxa noticed.

One evening, as you were tending to the strange plant he had brought, you felt him step behind you. His fingers brushed your wrist, guiding your hand over the leaves.

“Do you feel it?” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear.

The plant pulsed beneath your touch.

You swallowed hard. “Yes.”

He hummed, his fingers curling slightly over yours. “Just like you, it thrives on attention.”

Your lips parted to argue, to deny, to push him away. But your traitorous body remained still. That silence was all he needed.

His grip tightened. Just long enough to remind you who was winning this game.

The first incident happened three days later.

A neighboring florist, one of your longtime friends—vanished.

The second incident followed soon after.

Another florist. A merchant. Anyone who spent too much time near you. No bodies. No signs of struggle. Just whispers of disappearances.

And then, the third incident.

This time, the attack was aimed at you.

A masked figure cornered you late at night, their blade glinting under the dim lantern light. But you were no helpless damsel. Before they could strike, you reached into your apron, pulled out a handful of crushed lilies and blew the powder into their face.

The paralysis was instant. The would-be assassin barely had time to stagger before crumpling to the ground, unmoving. You stepped back, breathing heavily, heart hammering.

Then, from the darkness, a slow clap.

You turned, only to find him.

Anaxa stood in the shadows, watching you with that infuriating, satisfied smile.

“You handled that well” he murmured.

Your fingers curled into fists. “This was your doing.”

“Was it?” He tilted his head, stepping closer, eyes never leaving yours. “Strange… I seem to remember warning you that this town had become dangerous.”

You glared. “You expect me to believe this was a coincidence?”

“I expect you to be smart enough to see the truth.” He stopped a mere breath away from you, his fingers reaching out to trace along the petals of the flower in your hair.

“You need me, Y/N.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “And I’m the only one who will stay.”

Your pulse pounded. Not with fear.

But with the bitter realization that he wasn’t wrong.

The disappearances. The attack. The uncertainty in the air. Who else could you trust now?

He had woven himself into your life. And somehow, you had let him. But that didn’t mean you had lost.

Not yet.

So instead of pulling away, instead of rejecting his words, you met his gaze head-on.

“You think you’ve won?” you murmured.

His smile widened. “Haven’t I?”

You leaned in slightly, your breath ghosting against his skin, your fingers grazing his wrist. And then, in a single swift motion. You twisted his arm behind his back, slammed him against the shop’s wooden post, and pressed the sharp tip of your pruning shears to his throat.

Anaxa let out a soft, breathless laugh.

“Ah…” His voice was practically shaking with delight. “Now you’re just teasing me.”

Your grip tightened. “You don’t scare me.”

“You should” he murmured.

You stared at him, heart hammering, waiting for the moment he’d retaliate—waiting for him to strike. But he didn’t. Instead, he leaned into the blade. A thin line of crimson beaded against his pale skin, but he didn’t flinch.

He only smiled.

“Keep me close” he whispered. “Or watch how far I’ll go to get to you.”

A warning. A promise. A challenge.

And for the first time, you realized this wasn’t a game you could walk away from.

You felt the world blur around you.

Heat crept into your veins, slow and insidious, twisting through your body like roots burrowing deep into the earth. Your fingers trembled as you gripped the counter, trying to steady yourself.

Your vision swam, colors bleeding together. Across from you, Anaxa stood, watching you with sick satisfaction.

You had been poisoned.

Not to kill. Not to harm.

But to bind.

“What… did you do?” Your voice came out breathless, weaker than you wanted it to be.

Anaxa’s smile was slow, patient, victorious.

“Shh.” He stepped closer, brushing a gloved hand against your flushed cheek. “Let it settle, little flower. There’s no use fighting it.”

Your breathing hitched. The warmth pooling in your body was unnatural, like a vine curling around your heart, tightening, twisting, refusing to let go.

Your knees nearly buckled. Anaxa caught you effortlessly, guiding you against his chest, holding you as if he had done this before.

As if he had been waiting for this moment.

“You’re strong” he murmured, pressing his lips against your hair. “I knew you wouldn’t fall easily.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears. Fight. Your mind screamed at you. Resist.

But the weight in your limbs, the fog in your head, it was drowning you.

And worst of all, beneath the confusion and anger, something inside you craved the feeling.

The warmth. The presence. His hands on you. His voice in your ears.

You forced yourself to move, shoving against his chest. He allowed it, stepping back just enough to watch you struggle.

Your glare should have been sharp, but the dizziness dulled it. “You… bastard.”

Anaxa chuckled, tilting his head. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, my dear.”

He reached into his coat and pulled out a delicate glass vial.

Inside, swirling with a faint glow, was the same plant you had spent weeks researching.

Understanding slammed into you.

The plant. The rumors. The disappearances.

Your breath came short and shallow. “You planned this from the beginning.”

Anaxa smiled.

“Of course I did.”

Your mind was still reeling, but one thing was clear—Anaxa was not just some wandering researcher.

He was someone powerful. Someone who had influence. And now that you thought about it, his posture, his way of speaking, the way he expected to be obeyed. It was all too familiar.

Royalty.

Your lips parted in realization. “You—”

“I rule the neighbor kingdom, Y/N.” He said it softly, as if it were the simplest truth in the world. “And now, so will you.”

Your stomach twisted. “I never wanted that.”

“But you need it,” he countered. “And you need me.”

You clenched your fists. “What I need is for you to let me go.”

He smiled, patient as ever. “But you won’t leave.”

You narrowed your eyes. “And why is that?”

Anaxa’s stepped closer, his fingers brushing your pulse point. “Because I’ve rooted myself in you.”

Your breath caught.

“You feel it, don’t you?” His voice was low, hypnotic. “That pull. That ache.”

The poison makes you crave him.

Anaxa leaned in, his lips mere inches from yours.

“You are mine now.”

For days, you tried to fight it.

The bond, the warmth, the way his presence made your pulse race.

His voice in your ears. His hands guiding yours as you tended to the flowers. His whispers at night, promising, coaxing, binding.

You hated him. You hated how good he was at this. At pulling you in. At making you his.

And worst of all?

Somewhere along the way…

You had stopped trying to leave.

There was no escape from him. You will soon wither in his arms just like that lily.