#sulfur stains

[isot1ne]

#sulfur stains #fairy #walrus #fairy vs walrus #walrus vs fairy #walrus fairy poll #polls #fairy walrus poll #the fairy and the walrus

[c-is-for-circinate]

Came back wrong? How about came back right, except that the world you came back to is wrong. Came back just like waking up from a long nap only to find that the people who love you broke themselves into shards and bloody bargains to get you back.

There are new stains that nobody will explain, hidden beneath the rug in the upstairs hallway. Your mother's left eye is clouded and strange. The cat no longer goes near your brother. There's a sharp-edged shadow now, under your lover's smile.

Everybody says you must be remembering wrong, but your sense of smell is just as good as ever. The closet that used to smell like cedar and cinnamon smells like sulfur, now, and nobody will tell you why.

#came back wrong #came back right #came back to find the people you left become mad scientists and necromancers #came back to a world that should have moved on without you #and DIDN'T

[dokyeomini]

ok sometimes i do miss working at a lab bc you have to keep it tidy and clean

#im good at it #and washing beakers with hot sulfuric acid #very satisfying #bc it gets all the organic gunk off them #well not always #some have been permanently stained actually ahdnlj #but i haven't gone in with the hardest stuff #aqua regia is smth I haven't gotten my hands on ever i think

[werecreature-addicted]

Could you write something involving syntribation or bed humping? Love your writing ❤️

very much inspired by this art

"p-please f-fuck baby please," your pathetic mess of a Demon boyfriend whines. You glance up from your book at him, his eyes are shiny his forked tongue hanging out of his mouth. He's got a pillow stuffed between his legs his leaking cock poking out over the top as he grinds his hips back and forth. you sigh and snap the book shut before standing up to go to him on the bed.

"I suppose you have been such a good boy for me," you purr before kissing him lightly, feeling pure infernal magic pass through you as your lips touch, one of the advantages to having a demon lover was the pacts you could forge with them, how easy it was to bind a silly little incubus and make it so he couldn't ejaculate without your explicit permission, you'd had him cumming dry for hours now as his cock got more and more strained, filled with that hot sulfurous cum waiting to burst but he couldn't, he physically couldn't until you let him, simultaneously overstimulated and edged at the same time, it was beautiful.

"Please let me release," he whimpered softly against your mouth.

"how about we make a deal instead?" you offer and he grins lopsidedly.

"You know I love making deals with you,"

"Why don't you put that pretty mouth to good use and make me cum, then I give you permission to cum properly," you purr.

"Gladly," he agrees then he pounces on you, flipping you over and pinning you down to the be, raking his clawed hands down your body and spreading your thighs apart, his tail flicking back and forth happily as he licks up your thighs, to the apex of your legs.

He hooks his arms under your legs and grabs your hips pulling you flush to his face as he lavishes you with his tongue. He moans loudly against your skin and grinds his hips down against the bed, working himself towards another release.

You reach between your legs and grip his horns with both hands, using them like handlebars to get leverage and buck your hips against his mouth. you squeeze your eyes shut in pleasure feeling his tongue lash against your sex. He whined and mumbled a protest with his mouth still full of you, even though you were unable to understand his words you knew what you wanted and opened your eyes again looking down at his face, meeting his gaze as he eats you out, looking down at his pretty yellow eyes as you cum on his face. he eagerly licks up the mess you made, whimpering in pleasure as his own orgasm rocks through him, a sticky pool of cum soaking into the sheets and staining his stomach. still, he didn't stop licking you clean until you pushed him away.

"t-thank you," he says shakily. you lean down and kiss his forehead.

"so pretty when you cum, how about you do it again for me yeah?" you purr

"Baby you're going to kill me at this rate," he protests, you just smile and he huffs "fine one more"

#monster imagine #monster fucker #monster #monster boyfriend #teratophillia #demon x human #demon x reader #demon smut

[lovelybucky1]

Ego (rockstar!anakin x reader)

warnings: band!au, AFAB!reader, spitting, light choking, praise, degradation, (mentioned) exhibitionism, (mentioned) public sex, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, m!receiving oral sex, rough sex, smoking, consumption of alcohol, anakin is kind of an asshole in his, but he loves you

masterlist

The concert was explosive. Your ears still ring from the deafening bass from the speakers next to the stage and your nose is filled with the scent of smoke and sulfur from the fireworks that lit off during the last song.

You push through the flow of the bustling crowd leaving the venue, as you make your way up to the stage. You climb over the barrier and skip up the stairs. You slip behind the curtain and walk through the backstage area to the back exit.

The roadies are wheeling the band’s equipment to the bus and are packing it up to be transported to the next city overnight. You cut in front of the train of carts and equipment and run towards the bus, your stiletto heels clicking on the wet pavement.

When you reach the door, you find it already open. You walk up the few stairs and find yourself standing in a cloud of cigarette smoke. The band is lounged on the leather couches, each with a bottle and a cigarette in either hand. Everyone cheers when they notice you; they all love you.

“There they are!” Kit exclaims.

Ahsoka, the newest addition to the band and the youngest of the group at 19, giggles loudly at something on her phone, obviously a little intoxicated.

You greet them all as you walk towards the couch towards your boyfriend. Anakin is lounging lazily on the couch, his feet kicked up on the arm of the couch, with a cigarette balanced between his fingers. He looks up at you as you walk by, eyes half-lidded and a little glazed. He smiles slowly as he takes in your outfit: tight pants, his band’s shirt cut and distressed into something very revealing, and high heels.

Anakin is wearing something of similar style: a sweat-stained dark gray t-shirt, black distressed skinny jeans, and large black boots that make him even taller. His piercings glitter in the low light, and his smudged eyeliner makes your knees weak.

“Hey, baby,” he grins, reaching his hand out to grab your waist.

“Hey, Ani,” you laugh as he guides you into his lap.

He puts his cigarette in his mouth to free his other hand to touch you. With a smirk, he pulls you up his body so you’re straddling his waist.

“The show was amazing tonight,” you say.

“God, it was,” he says, closing his eyes and grinning as he reminisces on the night.

There’s nothing Anakin loves more than attention. He’s the front man of the band, always has all eyes on him. Everyone in the crowd cheers for him, is there to see him, wants him. As much as Anakin loves to play his music, he loves the ego trip even more.

“Everyone loved you.”

“It was electric. I can still feel it,” Anakin said with a groan.

Being on stage turns all of Anakin’s emotions up to eleven, and he rides that high for a long while after the concert. Like now, he’s looking up at you with lust blown eyes and you can feel his cock growing harder underneath you.

“Don’t be a diva, Ani, they loved all of us,” Ahsoka chimes in.

“Please, if Kit’s ugly ass was our front man, that venue would be empty,” Anakin huffs. “Everyone wants what they can’t have, so they’ll buy songs and tickets and all the other stupid shit we come up with just so they can get a taste of what it’d be like to have me.”

“If your head gets any bigger, it’ll pop,” Aayla rolls her eyes.

“Well,” Anakin swings his legs around so his feet are back on the floor, keeping you in his lap. “In that case, I better make good use of my time before I get my brains all over the bus.”

Anakin places his hands under your thighs and stands up. You wrap your arms and legs around him and hold on tightly, your faces just inches apart.

“Ugh,” Ahsoka groans.

With a wide grin, Anakin walks you back to the bedroom at the back of the bus. It’s a large bed that Anakin has claimed since he put them on the map, much to the other’s annoyance. Anakin kicks open the door and takes one long stride before he’s dropping you down on your back atop the bed.

He shuts the door and makes quick work of shedding his sweaty t-shirt. His abs ripple when he puts his arms down and you find yourself staring at the tattoos that litter his abdomen, chest, and arms. You reach out to trace the stars mirrored on each of his hip bones, those being your favorite tattoos of his.

He looks down at you with exhaustion-heavy eyes, the liquor he undoubtedly had, not helping. Despite how tired he is, he needs to get the leftover adrenaline out of his system.

“You’re not even gonna let me kiss you first?” he asks you with a raised eyebrow.

“You taste like cigarettes.”

“That’s how I got you addicted to me in the first place,” he smirks as he reaches up to graze his thumb over your jaw.

“Trust me, that’s not what got me addicted.”

“No? Then what was?” he smiles as he waits for an answer. “My money? My fame? My dick?”

You roll your eyes. “Kiss me, you idiot.”

Anakin grins as he bends down to kiss you. He smashes your lips together in a rough, passionate kiss. He does taste like cigarettes, as well as alcohol and something that is so distinctly Anakin.

“I’m so fucking horny for you,” he breathes against your lips when the kiss finally breaks. Your eyebrows raise in surprise, not expecting such blunt words. “I was thinking about you the whole goddamn time.”

“What were you thinking about?” you ask curiously, your face still inches away from his, looking at his stained mouth from your lipstick.

“Bringing you up on stage and taking you in front of everybody,” he confesses as his hands travel from your neck down to your torso.

“I think that’d make the fangirls jealous.”

“Good. Let them be jealous. Let them see how good I can give it.”

Anakin stands up straight and you bring your hands up to work at Anakin’s pants; unzipping the fly and pushing his jeans and boxer briefs down far enough for his cock to spring free. It almost his you in the face as the pink tip bobs tantalizingly in front of you. You look up at him, silently asking for permission to put your mouth around it.

“It’s not gonna suck itself,” he smirks as he guides your head towards his length with a hand in your hair.

Once you get your mouth on his dick, he loosens his hold on you and allows you to go at your own pace. His voice is already a little hoarse from performing tonight, and the added gravel to his moans make your head spin as you listen below him.

“Fuck, they’d be so jealous. I’d take you up there and let you suck my dick in the middle of a song, just like this.”

Anakin tilts his head back in a groan as you flick your tongue around the tip.

Your mouth waters aroud his length, and after a few bobs of your head, drool is leaking from the corners of your mouth and down your chin. Anakin loves when you get messy like this, especially when your dark lipstick leaves prints at the base of his cock.

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good,” he groans.

Anakin threads his fingers through your hair and holds you tightly, not directing you, just making sure you feel it.

You take him all the way into your throat and look up at him with glassy eyes as you gag around him. Anakin loves the feeling of your throat contracting as you struggle not to gag; it feeds his ego knowing that his dick is too big even for someone so well trained.

Anakin feels like orgasm nearing, so he pulls you off by your hair so he does not finish too quickly.

You sit back on your knees and wipe your face with the back of your hand. You look sinful underneath him like this; lipstick smudged and eye makeup running from tears.

“Come up here, baby,” he says, taking your hand and tugging you to your feet. You put your arms around his neck and look up at him, feeling small in his arms. “I want you to give me some marks. I want something to show off tomorrow,” he grins.

You lean in to latch your lips onto his pec, sucking the smooth skin that covers the hard muscle into your mouth. You suck firmly, pinching thr skin between your teeth as you do. A satisfied hum rumbles through his chest when you pull away and he sees the dark red mark you left on his pale skin.

Before long, his chest, collarbone, neck, and abdomen are littered with similar sized hickeys. After each one you left, he reached down to press his fingers into the forming bruise, just to feel the dull pain.

“You’re so fuckin’ perfect,” Anakin says, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you close so your hips are pressed flush to his.

“Then why don’t you fuck me?”

“Is that how you ask for it?” he asks with a smirk.

“No, but I have a feeling you’ll give it to me either way.”

Anakin chuckles as he slides his hands up your sides, pushing your shirt up as he does. You raise your arms above your head and he pulls it off, revealing your lace bra underneath.

Anakin’s eyes darken even more as he takes in the sight of the delicate black lace over your perfect tits. It’s beautiful, and Anakin was to destroy it. He grabs each cup firmly in his large hands and pulls, ripping the pretty bra down the center.

“What the fuck?” you gasp. “That was expensive!”

“You bought it with my money, didn’t you?”

You glare at him. “Yes, but-”

“Then I should be able to do whatever I want with it.”

“You’re such an asshole,” you huff as your shrug off the scraps of your ruined bra.

His hands move to the front of your jeans, but you swat them away before he can ruin anymore of your clothes. While you take your pants off, he does the same.

Now, you’re both standing in the tour bus bedroom, completely bare to each other’s gazes.

“Turn around,” Anakin orders.

“Make me,” you challenge.

He gives you an unimpressed stare before he grabs your hips and spins you around. He pushes you so you lay face down on the bed, but you do not stay there. You prop yourself up on your elbows and just as you look back at him, his long fingers slide through your wet folds.

“Soaked for me, huh?” Anakin chuckles.

“Don’t tease me, Ani.”

Anakin eases two fingers into you, curling them along the way to find the spot inside you that makes you clench.

“Or what? We both know you can’t resist anything I do to you.”

You hate that he’s right, but whatever annoyance that was building inside of you quickly disappated as he began to move his fingers in and out of you.

Anakin didn’t spend long opening you up before he replaced his fingers with the tip of his cock.

He did tease you; he slapped your pussy with it before giving you just the slightest amout, enough to stretch but not enough to fill.

“It’s not enough,” you whine.

“Oh, I’m sorry, baby,” he says, not sounding apologetic in the slightest. “You want more?”

“Yes, please.”

Anakin grips your hips firmly, then slides all the way in. That’s how Anakin goes about everything: all or nothing. You cry out as you adjust to the intrusion, but he doesn’t give you much time befote he starts to rut into you.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight. Your pussy was made for me, wasn’t it?” he asks.

“Yes, yes, it’s yours,” you whimper.

With each stroke, the sound of his hips hitting your ass fill the room is sharp claps. You can feel the tip of his cock in your stomach after every thrust in, and it punches the air out of your lungs. Anakin fucks you hard and fast, his fingers digging into your hips which will surely bruise.

After a while of this position, Anakin wraps his forearm around your middle and pulls you up so you’re standing, trapped between him and the bed.

His large hand presses on your lower abdomen so he can feel each thrust of his cock inside you, and because he knows the added pressure will make it so much better for you. Anakin hooks his chin over your shoulder and presses his mouth to your ear so he can whisper.

“I fuckin’ own this pussy, got that? I own you.”

Your stomach flips at his vulgar words and you lean your head back on his shoulder and moan.

Anakin can’t help himself when he sees your mouth open wide for him. He reaches up and hooks his finger in your cheek to hold it open, then spits. Some of it lands on your cheeks and lips, but most of it lands on your tongue.

“Swallow that,” he says, his breath hot on your ear.

You do as he said, swallowing his spit obediently. It’s hot and dirty and everything you love, all at once. It’s overwhelming, overstimulating, and unless Anakin physically stops you, you’re going to cum soon.

“You’re so fuckin’ good for me. Bet you’d let me fuck you like this on stage, huh? Serve me while everyone is cheering for me like I’m God.”

Anakin’s voice is low and rough, obviously growing more desperate with each stroke. He pushes you forward and you brace yourself on the bed with your arms. He leans over your back and licks a hot strike over your sweaty neck before sinking his sharp teeth into the tender skin under your ear.

You cry out in a mix of pleasure and pain from Anakin’s teeth in your skin. You’re sure it will leave a crescent bruise behind, but you can’t bring yourself to mind right now.

“Let me cum inside you,” he says in your ear.

Finding your words to be lost, you nod, giving him permission to claim you. He makes a noise akin to a growl as his thrusts start to pick up in speed. They become more erratic as he nears closer to his orgasm, and yours slowly builds along with his.

He grabs your hips and thrusts deep inside you, then holds you flush to him as he pumps his load into you. The feeling of his hot cum flooding your insides makes your eyes roll back, and you lean to rest your head on his shoulder. He grabs your throat and presses his lips to your temple.

“Cum around my cock. I want to feel you.”

His other hand reaches down between your legs and begins to toy with your clit. The feeling of his fingers rubbing you in just the right way, his still-hard cock inside you, along with his cum leaking down your pussy work together to throw you over the edge.

You whimper as you begin to cum. Your knees feel weak as your lower stomach blooms with warmth and pleasure.

Anakin revels in the feeling of your walls convulsing around his sensitive dick. If he hadn’t already cum, your pussy would be milking him like this. Once you’ve finished riding out your high, Anakin pulls out of you and lays you down on the bed before joining next to you.

He turns you around so you're facing away from him and he spoons you, pulling your back to his sweaty chest.

“You’re so good for me, baby,” he whispers.

“Felt so good,” you reply quietly.

Anakin’s cum is still leaking from between your legs, but neither of you care right now. You’re both exhausted, wrung out from sex and the busy day before this.

“Hey,” Anakin says, breaking the silence in the room.

“Hey.”

“Tomorrow night after the show, I’m gonna marry you.”

“What?” you gasp, turning around in his arms.

“I want to make it official. Make sure that everyone knows I’m off the market. That you’re the only one who actually gets any real part of me.”

Anakin may have a reputation of being a diva, an egotistical superstar, which isn’t necessarily untrue, but like this, in private with you, he’s tender, loving, and real.

“So what do you say?” he asks, suddenly feeling vulnerable.

You smile wide and bring him in to kiss. “Yes, I’ll marry you,” you say against his lips.

He kisses you again, deeply, as he confesses all of his love for you with a physical act.

In the back of your mind, you wonder if you’ll get hate from Anakin’s fans for stealing their celebrity crush from them, but you shrug that thought off. On stage, he may belong to everyone, but here, he’s only yours.

#star wars #anakin #anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker smut #anakin smut #anakin x y/n #anakin skywalker fic #star wars smut #star wars fanfiction #star wars fanfic #anakin skywalker fanfic #anakin fanfiction #anakin fanfic #hayden christensen

[hongism]

DJANGO. - s. mingi (m)

➼ genre; smut ➼ pairing; mingi x fem!reader ➼ au; outlaw/hitman!mingi, dystopian futurism, lore accurate ateez ➼ warnings; explicit smut ➼ rating; m/18+ ➼ wc; 3.7k

Top shelf bourbon, no ice, and an orange peel over the rim of the glass. You only like the taste when it comes from his lips.

part of the outlaw miniseries.

────────────

➼ smut warnings; piv, unprotected sex, biting, marking, rough sex, choking (unsafe practices used pls don’t do!), pain kink/play, slight blood play, creampie, pet names: darling & angel

────────────

He comes into the bar as you’re wiping down the counter. One small glance at him would be enough to tell you where he’s been — the sweat on his brow under the brim of his cowboy hat is a dead giveaway for sure — but you don’t even need that much to know. A smell comes with him, one that you aren’t fond of but have grown used to in the time you’ve known this man, and that’s the lingering sulfuric scent that wafts into the bar with him. It clings to his leather jacket like a second skin by now. Perhaps part of you should be flattered that he comes to you after a hit, but then again this bar is all but his home, so you’re simply in a convenient place at a convenient time every time he returns.

“Want your usual?” you ask despite it being well past closing time. Preferential treatment for someone you’re quite fond of, and also on account of the man currently stationed on the roof seizing ownership of the bar prior to you being hired. Turning back, you pull a glass tumbler from the shelf without waiting for his response, affirmed by nothing more than a grunt as he comes to sit down at the bar. “How were things tonight?”

“Have you been waitin’ long?” Mingi asks in lieu of answering, and you smile to yourself.

“Hm, no, I wouldn’t say so. I had ample time to clean everything and wonder about when and how you would come in, so I’d say that’s time well spent.”

“And how exactly did you think that’d go down?” Sometimes you wonder if Mingi genuinely wishes to know your thoughts or if it’s simply a desire to prolong the conversation. Either way, he watches you with such rapt focus that you feel heat on the back of your neck from the scrutiny.

Top shelf bourbon, no ice, and an orange peel over the rim of the glass. Setting the drink down before him on the counter, you lean hard on the wood as your eyes squeeze shut.

“You come with your big cowboy hat with that gun slung around your arm, and you come up to me right here at the bar and you dip your hat like such a fine gentleman before saying 'How're things 'round here these days ma'am?'." You open your eyes and smile wide at Mingi. "Is that a sufficient enough fantasy for you?“

He dips his chin as one side of his lips pulls up to form a misshapen grin.

“I missed a shot tonight.” The shock reads on your face too quickly for you to conceal comfortably, even as you duck your chin and clear your throat to play it off, Mingi stares at you the same. “He clipped my arm before taking one between the eyes.” You blink down to his sleeves, noting the singed leather on his upper left arm that shows clear signs of damage. There are bandages underneath — or at least you’re assuming them to be bandages, it’s difficult to tell with how scarlet stains them. You move without saying a word in response, and Mingi shifts to follow your movements with his gaze, dedicated to the point of rotating his body as you go. “Nothin’ too terrible, darling. I already patched it up just fine on my own.”

“You go out and get fucking shot,” you hiss through gritted teeth just as you come around the edge of the bar, “then waltz back here acting a damn fool?” Mingi spreads his legs the moment you come up to him, effectively letting you press even closer to him when your hands grab for the collar of his jacket.

“I wanted to see you,” he murmurs, eyes wandering all over your face. “Wanted to fuck you.”

“Mingi.” You pull his jacket down to his forearms as the noise of exasperation leaves your lips.

“What’s so wrong about that?” he asks in return, hand wandering from the counter to find a new home on your hip. His hand is large and warm and proves to be quite distracting when he starts to let his thumb run along the sliver of bare skin he can now reach. You don’t opt to answer his nonsensical question in favor of working the jacket off his shoulders and exposing bare arms and a skimpy leather vest that leaves fairly little to the imagination. Your focus remains strong though, and you hone in on the cloth bound around his bicep. The area is relatively clean aside from the bandage, to your surprise. Mingi reaches up to lay a hand over the one you still have clenched around his sleeve. “Cleaned and dressed it already, angel. Stop worrying that pretty little head of yours for a second and let me see you smile.”

“Don’t let my drink go to waste and let me actually clean this shit first. Then you can have both those things.” You pull away to find the nearest first aid kit just for Mingi to snag your belt loop and pull you back to him.

“And something extra?” His lips are chasing yours already; you push the tip of your index finger to them before he can get any closer. One kiss will be more than enough to distract you from the task at hand, which is like what he is aiming for knowing how Mingi is. Despite the less-than-stellar circumstances, you do find his cheeky grin endearing more than you find it infuriating, which means you only leave his side with a roll of your eyes and not any more snippy remarks.

He sits still and sips at the drink you prepared for him while watching you work. It feels like a bit of a rhythm that you fall into — pulling the first aid kit out, taking what you need from it, returning to Mingi’s side in little to no time — and you’re somewhat grateful for him allowing quiet to hang about the bar because it means you can clean his wound without distraction on his part. It truly isn’t a terrible injury, just as he had claimed (but you aren’t about to admit that to his face, otherwise you won’t hear the end of it for the next three weeks at minimum). However, he did not dress it well in the slightest and if he did clean it, then he did not do a thorough enough job by your standards.

Mingi’s glass is empty by the time you finish wrapping a fresh and proper bandage around his arm, securing it in its place with a strip of medical tape. You lean back to admire your handiwork that’s far and away better than what you started with. Mingi twists to look over it as well.

“Not half bad, huh?” you quip, nudging his knee with your hip before turning to return everything to where you dragged it from. Mingi’s fingers pinch and hook on the fabric of your front pocket first. In one quick motion, he spins you back to face him, though now he’s gotten to his feet and presses so close to you that you come face to face with his torso.

You get your first taste of him tonight right then when he dips down to capture your lips with his. Bourbon and orange sit heavy on his tongue as he licks into your mouth, and you drink in the taste. Like you’ve been starved of the taste for eons, like you’ve been searching for an oasis in the midst of a desert and he’s the last source of water on the planet. You laugh against his lips at the thoughts running through your mind at present — they sound more like the sweet nothings and pillow talk he would whisper to you before falling asleep under the stars than thoughts of your own.

Mingi shifts his weight against you and diverts all your thoughts towards other, much larger, and much more prominent things. Namely what’s pressing hard into your hip through his leather pants and making itself very known to you.

“Eager much?” you murmur, lips pulling up at the corners. Mingi’s hands move to the bar counter and cage you in against the wood. A shaky breath escapes you, one of anticipation and budding arousal. As the air from your lips fans out across Mingi’s sharp features, he leans in and catches skin between teeth, nipping and tugging hard enough to sting. First at your already swollen lips, then lower just below your jaw, again and again on the way down your neck until he’s satisfied to pause at your collarbone. He drags teeth over the fragile skin there in a way that makes goosebumps rush over your skin.

Hands scramble to find purchase on each other’s bodies, and when that’s not enough, Mingi settles to sweep his arms wildly behind you on the counter. It sends the first aid kit flying, tipping it over the edge of the bar and making it clatter on the ground. His empty glass follows a similar path and meets a much more brutal fate; it shatters against one of the stools and splays across the floor to your left. The door to the roof bangs open to interrupt the spell placed between your bodies.

“Oi! Quit trashing my fucking glasses unless you're planning on replacing every last fucking one of them!”

The door slams back shut so quickly that you don’t have the opportunity to respond in the slightest, and the shock it leaves with you makes a laugh rip from your lips. You duck your head to rest against Mingi’s shoulder, laughing under your breath as the adrenaline pumps your heart more and more.

“Good to know he’s still alive, I suppose,” Mingi jokes through a laugh of his own, just before you lift your head and reach for another kiss.

“Let’s break some more shit just to piss him off.” Said somewhat as a joke, and other parts a completely serious attempt to weasel your way under Hongjoong’s skin, Mingi ignores that in favor of pulling you away from the bar. His hands pull and tug at your thighs, a clear urging to get you to wrap your legs around his waist, and you give him what he desires so desperately in exchange for a kiss that’s full of teeth and saliva. 

Your hands never settle on any particular part of him for a second longer than needed — you want him in ways that are beyond simple desire, and your eagerness must be evident to some degree based on how Mingi nips at your lower lip. He’s not very gentle in the way he splays you over the pool table, and you narrowly miss the triangle of balls in the center as your head thuds against the surface. Mingi hoists your hips closer to the edge of the table without preamble. Just as you’re reaching down to wrap a hand around the back of his next, aiming for another kiss, Mingi ducks down between your legs. 

“Min—oh.” Your gut tightens and cuts your train of thought short. There’s pressure between your legs and against your sex, even through your pants, you can feel the efforts of his fingers at your clit. You swing an arm wildly around the table in search of something to ground yourself yet all you can hold onto is the border of the table. 

“Want me, angel?” His nails dig into your skin around the waistband of your pants. It’s enough to sting and burn, you tighten your grip on the table as though it’s Mingi you’re grabbing instead, and he lets out a low chuckle that reverberates through you. “Such a pretty little thing you are… letting me have my way with you.”

“I—” air hisses through your gritted teeth as Mingi begins to drag your pants down your legs at an agonizing pace “—I’ll take charge myself if you don’t speed things up a bit, angel.”

He’s laughing again as he stands upright, pants pulled down to your ankles, and he leans over your prone body to look you in the eye. When he speaks again, his breath is hot on your lips.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, y/n. I’m at your mercy whenever you want me to be.” He lowers his face to your neck, teeth snagging the fragile skin there and nipping hard enough to make your body tingle. “You can even have me on my knees if that’s what you want…”

“Mingi.” This time, rather than an attempt to spur him on, your tone begs him to slow down because the mere prospect of what he’s whispering into your skin has your head spiraling. Of course, now, he doesn’t wish to do that. He hooks two fingers around the crotch of your underwear, which in turn causes his knuckles to drag through your sopping folds and give you the slightest bit of stimulation. The weight of his body does nothing to keep you from jolting under him, a startled moan slipping out right against the shell of Mingi’s ear.

“Don’t you feel it, darling?” he murmurs against you as your panties are stripped from your body just as your pants were. “That rush of adrenaline — I’m still feeling the high of that fight and getting shot. Makes me wanna fuck you into oblivion even more than ever.”

“Some wou-would call that insanity, hun.”

“Hm? That I get turned on when it’s a close call?” His arm buckles when he tries to brace himself against the table, and your eyes flit over to the wrapped wound there nervously. Red peeks through the bandages again, yet he doesn’t seem to mind one bit. He notices your focus in an instant, though seems far less concerned than you are. He keeps that arm where it is as he reaches down to his pants and undoes them as best he can with one hand. There’s fairly little effort in that regard, however, because all he does is move them enough to pull his dick out. You barely get a glimpse at what all he’s doing before you feel him against your cunt, nudging between your folds. “Feels even better when I’m hurtin’, angel.”

Mingi rolls his hips forward, but he doesn’t enter you quite yet. His cock thrusts between your folds in a lewd imitation of the real thing. His focus shifts from watching the way his cock pushes against your clit to see your reactions unfold. You sling your arm forward and clench your fingers hard around his forearm.

“You want it to hurt or no?” Mingi asks through a grunt, hand pressed down over where his cock slides against you to form something of a pseudo-hole for him to fuck. 

“No prep, please, just — just go in.” His pace falters slightly at the permission, though the look in his eyes tells you that he wants nothing more than to do that right now. “And come inside, please~” A low blow, perhaps, but you know it’ll knock his evident concerns about your well-being away in full, and it does indeed spur him into action. 

“Grab my arm.”

“I am.”

“Not like that, darling.” Mingi reaches around with his used hand, wet with your arousal and his combined, and he grips your wrist until you let go of his forearm. You don’t realize what he’s wanting until he guides you up to his bicep and places your hand right over his injury. “Hurt me a bit, angel, you know I love it.” You tighten your hold around the bandage just a little. “Don’t be afraid to make me bleed.”

“Mingi,” you exhale, then he’s spreading his fingers around your neck. Your breath hitches in your throat.

“Do you trust me, y/n?”

“Of course.”

“Then hurt me,” he says before lining himself up with your entrance and pushing into you slowly and deliberately. The stretch burns something awful, and it draws a noise that’s more akin to a wail than a lust-filled moan out of you. Surely something your companion upstairs on the roof will overhear and wonder about, but he’s never interrupted beyond a certain point before and you’re confident he won’t now either. Regardless, the thought of Hongjoong is a dwindling one that doesn’t linger long because Mingi fills your senses to the brim, as well as you In the filthiest way you can describe. You’re hardly conscious of how hard you’re clinging to him, but the palm of your hand is wet against his arm, and he’s tensing in your grasp with each passing second. 

There’s something terribly exhilarating about it. You understand, for a moment, that rush of adrenaline he had mentioned not long ago. As your body stretches to form around his length, you find yourself wanting to mold him in similar ways. The pressure on your neck increases bit by bit; Mingi leans further over you and pushes his hand more into your throat. It’s far from safe but it hurts so good that your brain feels fogged already.

“Fuck,” you hear the word slip off Mingi’s tongue once he’s fully buried inside your tight heat, walls firm around his thick cock.

“Don’t make me wait long,” you say back, tone nothing but breathy thanks to the pressure restricting you. 

You had grown up hearing the notion that there is no violence in love, but there is in both infatuation and obsession. Perhaps you and Mingi are living proof of that, with how you exercise your affections onto each other in ways that would be considered sinister to others, but at the end of the day, you two are simply indulging in things that bring you both pleasure. 

Mingi heeds your words so carefully and doesn’t waste a second longer than he has to before he’s beginning to drive his cock in and out of your cunt. You cling to him all the same, only squeezing harder as the ache blooms into something more pleasurable than painful. You still taste citrus on your tongue, a lingering gift from his lips, and your brain hones in on that taste as it becomes harder to breathe under his palm. You’re far from light-headed, especially with how his grip rubs up and down your neck with the force of his thrusts. It will leave marks, perhaps your whole neck will be red as though you’d been scratching at it all night, but you revel in the fact that you will be leaving Mingi will a similar mark. A wound that’s nothing more than a graze across his skin will bloom into something that lasts longer and bothers him a bit more. Perhaps he will be back to you before it’s even healed.

“Mingi,” you moan, chin tipping back further. He’s quiet as always — though only in terms of actual words because his lewd noises don’t cease for a second, and he nearly has you beat with how many groans drip from his lips like sinful honey. You wish to drink it all up, take every noise from his tongue and swallow them with your own until there’s nothing left unshared between the two of you. 

It’s deeply carnal the way he fucks you like he’s clinging to a lifeline, and you feel the urgency in his movements from how his hips snap against your body to how heavy and frantic his breathing has become. Though, you’re no better than he, dancing to the same illicit tune.

Suddenly you can breathe easy again, and you gulp down the air that enters your mouth so greedily that you almost choke on it. Mingi’s hand drags from the column of your throat down your torso until he has his fingers settled against your cunt just above where his dick connects your bodies.

“Come on me, darling, fuckin’ cream all over my dick like you’re made to.” The way he rolls your clit between his fingertips is brutally stimulating. It fills you with such a white-hot pleasure that you’re forced to release his arm in favor of covering your mouth to keep your noises from resonating through the room further. Mingi snatches your arm away in a split second, making sure that all you’re able to accomplish is a quick smear of his blood across your face. He folds himself over your body just as the stimulation sends you over the edge you’re teetering at, and as you unfurl into an orgasm, Mingi is there to drag his tongue across your cheek and jawline. When your back curls off the pool table, he sneaks the hand that was just toying with your clit around your back and holds your body up to his.

The kiss he delivers to your lips is one that’s metallic and wet, but you greet his tongue with your own in a fit of eagerness to feel him further. He hoists you further up until you’re all but seated on his cock. The throb between your legs is still so intense that you don’t notice his dick twitching against your walls, nor do you feel the first spurts of come inside you, but you do notice when Mingi bites your tongue hard enough to make it bleed. You’re still writhing in his grasp when he stops thrusting up into your pussy, and you cling to his face like letting go is simply not an option. 

It hurts when your mouths finally separate because then you feel the throb of the bite on your tongue in full and taste the evidence of it in the back of your throat. 

“Satisfied, angel?”

Your breath intermingles with his, and he’s still chasing your mouth in the hopes of taking another kiss from you. There’s a grin tugging at the corners of your lips as you press your index finger to his chin.

“Not even close.”

He laughs.

“Good, because I’m hardly done with you yet.”

────────────

please like & reblog this work and consider leaving a reply or sharing your thoughts in a reblog or ask!

this work belongs to caly / hongism (2023). do not copy, repost, or plagiarize in any way.

#ateez smut #mingi smut #ateez x reader #mingi x reader #ateez fic #ateez ff #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #mingi oneshot #ateez imagine #ateez imagines #caly.writes

[temis-de-leon]

Obey Me and Lonely MC

How I imagine the very few moments before MC was summoned to the Devildom

Gender neutral reader (please correct me If I'm wrong)

Masterlist

CW: angst, panicking and body pain, nothing explicit, college student MC sharing apartment, shitty college experience, lonely MC but the sad type of lonely, they're kinda depressed. Diavolo, Barbatos and Lucifer welcome MC, but they're barely there

Please enjoy!

.

You only had time to close the door before the floor under your feet started sinking like quicksand, bending in waves and violently shaking your body.

Everything beyond the entrance seemed completely normal: the wood was as hard as it could be and the tiles shone as they always did, yellow and cheap thanks to the faded lights in the apartment.

Still, nothing there was brighter than whatever the fuck was illuminating your body from underneath. Where exactly you weren't sure, but it came from below.

It was weird.

It was too much.

You threw your backpack away from you, your computer possibly breaking with the fall under the weight of multiple books, before rummaging through all your pockets in search of your phone.

There had to be someone you could call. Someone. Anyone.

The blood pumped in you ears and your fingers struggled to unlock the screen while you screamed your roommates' names with a trembling voice.

You were alone.

How in fucking hell could you be alone?

Maybe you were dreaming or hallucinating! Stress could do that to you, right? Exams had been hectic those days and your sleeping habits had been disastrous for weeks, often leaving you empty at best and anhedonic at worst. That had to be it! Your brain was malfunctioning due to sleep depravation and high cortisol levels, also causing a decrease in balance and a permanent state of alert.

You were unnecessaryly panicking because your body was tired. It was as simple as that.

You. Were. Fine.

So you let your knees give up, wincing a little when they hit the floor. Your coat, always your favourite, was warm as a blanket and taking it off felt like a herculean task.

Your body followed its own weight, leaning forward until your hands touched the wood and kneaded like it was some kind of weird bread dough before you fully laid down. You felt as if it was absorbing your energy, draining it completely and making you lose your vision.

You thought you saw red surrounding your siluette in a circle, but your mind was too far gone by then, too tired to process anything that catched your brain's attention.

It could've been seconds or hours until you opened your eyes again. The possibility of being days was also there, but how could you be sure?

Flesh hard under your skin and blood slow through your veins, there was nothing you could feel but pain and the faint smell of sulfur.

Was there a leakage in the building?

And since when did your apartment have such high ceilings? Made of stone with stained glass... You'd never seen them, haven't you? You'd remember if you did.

Someone was talking to you. Not any of your roommates, of that you were sure. The voice was too deep.

You sat like a spring, dizzy and too aware of your surroundings, adrenaline kicking in. It did smell like sulfur, but it was going away, letting your nose catch instead what was probably a really expensive cologne.

There were men around you, you realized, all staring at your perplexed expression with amusement, as if you were a new addition to the zoo. And they were tall. Like... tall tall.

One of them, dressed in red, spoke to you again, but your ears were clogged. You weren't intentionally ignoring him, you just couldn't hear a single shit. You could barely hear your own heartbeat.

Were you still alive?

"Hey... Ah!"

Your voice sounded like a whisper for only one second, but it was enough to pop your ears and make you scream and grab the sides of your head in anguish. Someone, not the one in red, spoke again in a tongue you didn't recognize and made the pain disappear like mist.

"... where you are?"

"Human"

"Human! Answer the prince!"

What fucking prince?

"What?" you finally asked in a creaky voice.

"Do you know where you are?"

The redhead spoke one final time. He seemed to be the nicest one, but you couldn't fully trust the tallest dude you'd ever seen who also had yellow eyes.

Not light brown. Yellow. Bright yellow.

"I don't know, man... Hell?"

You were being sarcastic, but the smile in his face told you something completely unexpected.

"You see, Lucifer? Barbatos? They seem to be aware of their surroundings!"

"I'm not sure that's the case, my Lord"

Hell.

You were in hell? Of course you were.

It did make sense once you thought about it. Come on! Floor sinking under your feet? And your dumbass believed it was due to stress! How could it be stress, dummy? Hell was the obvious answer!

Although conscious, you became too foggy to coherently answer any of their following questions. It sounded like they already knew what they wanted to hear and they were just making sure you also knew it.

Name, age, gender, nationality... Not even your rommates knew half of that, so how did they?

Maybe you were schizophrenic. How far could schizophrenia go?

"So, do you agree?"

The redhead with yellow eyes... A demon? Lord Diavolo. The Prince of Hell.

He looked at you with childish eagerness. Lucifer and Barbatos, if those were their actual names, didn't seem as happy.

Diavolo wasn't asking for your permission. If he actually wanted your permission, he would've sent you a letter or even waited for you in your own apartment like a creep. But you were already there. Asking that was just courtesy. Politeness.

You stayed in silence for a couple of minutes, maintaining direct eye contact with him.

You remembered your backpack, computer surely broken and library books all wrinkled and smelly, reeking of mold. The two roommates that never came to your rescue and your inability to think of someone that would come in a second just because you needed help.

You'd be an unsolved crime. A YouTube clickbait.

That seemed better than letting college steal your money and will to live before throwing you to the wolves.

"Sure, man, why not?"

.

.

#obey me #obey me! shall we date? #om! shall we date #om! swd #obey me mc #obey me reader #obey me diavolo #obey me lucifer #obey me barbatos #obey me angst #obey me fic #obey me oneshot #obey me gn!reader #obey me gn!mc #obey me gender neutral mc #obey me x gender neutral reader

[inkyquince]

anyway, here's gortash.

characters.... enver gortash. cmon now

content warning. gore mention? kinda? its not detailed. dark urge reader. they're in the middle of a long fuck sesh but its not that nsfw except gortash is fucking hard and it'll take talking about thorm to make him go soft.

The sound of Baldur's Gate's people going about their day always managed to steal through the windows, even with the thick curtains darkening the room. So many individuals walking around, haggling, buying, working, crying, loving, living.

So many beings. So much blood to spill, till the cracks in the cobblestones were stained red, never to be washed away.

Between your thighs, Gortash gives a low hum of contentment, looking up at you with his intensely dark eyes glinting in the low candle light.

"Thought about something you like, did you?" He murmurs, dragging his thumb over his slick covered lips, spit and precum gathering on his finger just to be tucked into his mouth to be sucked clean.

"Maybe," You muse with a smile, adjusting the way your leg lay over his shoulder and along his spine. "Maybe I enjoy you being on your belly for me."

Enver chuckled, low and amused. His reputation meant that he was held in high respect, and to tell him to take a knee to anyone other than maybe the Duke, was absurd. But here he was, on his stomach in his bed, with luxurious sheets, naked as the day he was born, with his face nestled between your thighs. You'd have considered this a victory, if it wasn't that he gave this freely to you. Gortash was the one who greedily hooked your legs over his shoulders, the one who always needed a hand against your back or cupping your elbow, no matter the looks he got from Thorm, or servants around his manor.

It was... Cute.

He licked his lips again, before slowly nosing over your pubic bone, up, over your stomach. Dropping kisses to the naked skin, he didn't stop till you felt his teeth against your throat, beginning to suck and bite away.

Now, this? This was adorable.

The only way for your lover to hurt you, the weapon your father favoured above all other, was to attack you with kisses and bites, till your neck bloomed with love marks and bruises. You had slaughtered so many in your father's name, and there was countless ways to gut Enver as he tended to your throat, but he could never.

What was clear to you, but maybe clouded to him, that he would never be able to bring harm to you. His hands weren't clean of blood, and the sulfur of the hells always stuck to his skin, as one's past often does, but you had no doubt that if the time ever came where he wanted the Brain all to himself, you'd fell him easily.

You gave another low sigh of pleasure and Enver answered with one of his own, finally abandoning his need to mark up the one person who'd never fully give themselves to him, not in the way he craved. But at least the love marks were pretty. Instead he kissed you deeply, his lean forearms caging you in.

His cock was hard again, dragging over your slick thighs as he lost himself in the taste of your mouth, something sweet and something metallic along your tongue giving him a head rush.

"Again?" You murmured against his lips, your tone inquisitive as you felt his heartbeat pick up.

"How could I ever show restraint towards you?" Gortash pulled away, his dark hair falling into his face. Despite spending most of the morning in bed, with the initial meeting he called fully abandoned, he had already spent three rounds with you on his cock, and when you weren't milking him for all he was worth, he was worshipping you. Between your thighs, with his fingers deep inside of you, demanding more orgasms from you than he had. According to the whores around town, he was a selfish lover, so you were surprised when you two first shared a private room. He had you against the desk, demanding you to cum twice before he even thought about pressing into you.

"Hmm," You mulled his words over, dragging your fingers over his chest, enjoying the hammering of his heart. "Might be wise. Thorm looked repulsed at our last meeting when you mentioned that red was definitely my color."

Gortash snorted softly, leaning back so he was on his knees yet still towered over your body.

"Hard to believe he had a wife, given his disgust towards any romantic intent shown."

"I doubt it's romantic intent he hates." You laughed softly as he curled his fingers under your ankle and brought it to his lips to press a kiss to the skin. "I bet he was a big old romantic, given his plans for the future. But coming from you? No doubt he nearly had a heart attack, if he could still have one."

"You wound me." Enver murmured, contiuing to kiss up your shin, till he got to your knee, when he ran his nose over the side of it. "I'm quite the romantic I'll have you know."

"More like a roguish flirt." You smirked at his short, bark of a laugh.

As his chuckles died down, he didn't resume his exploration of your body with his lips, which surprised you. He was usually so dogged in his chases. Instead of lust in his eyes, it was clouded with something else, despite the way his cock remained hard, jutting against his stomach with precum still slowly leaking against his skin. Something vulnerable, something scorching.

It was as if you had taken your favourite blade and sliced open his chest to admire the way his heart thumped amongst the gore. You waited, intrigued to see how long he dared to give you such a soft look, as if you weren't brought up with nothing but hard edges and burning brands. You wondered what you'd do, if he bared his heart to you willingly. Would you kiss the ruined organ? Embrace the stench of sulfur and rot and lick over it, or would you dig your nails into it, ripping it asunder and watch him twitch and scream? It worried you a bit that you didn't immediately settle on ruining him if he dared to whisper heartfelt confessions over his murmured lusts and desires.

Maybe he remembered what you were, a foul child of Bhaal. Maybe he saw the way your eyes flickered. Maybe he remembered how hard his cock was and craved to feel your insides around him once more before you killed him for a sickly love confession.

So, while the softness of his eyes didn't leave, a dirty heat clouded them.

"Now, let's abandon all this talk of Ketheric, lest I go soft. Instead, can I recommend we see how much I can make you scream before the servants get worried."

You awoke with a low hiss of pleasure, the luxurious surroundings of your lover disappearing for the chilled wilderness of your camp. It was dark, too dark, so you doubted anyone other than you were up, except maybe for Astarion.

Slowly sitting up, you raised your fingers to your neck, feeling as if the bites still lingered there, fresh and raw. You were unsettled. More unsettled than when your first dream visitor started appearing, more than waking up with Alfira's blood under your nails.

You were privy to what felt like someone else's life, rife with blood and gore and the feeling of someone's hot tongue pressing into you. It was calling to you, as if you were being offered this path again, to come back and take your proper place.

It wouldn't do to wonder about if this past lover dreamed of you like you did of him. You had things to do, memories to recover... Someone to look after.

Little did you know that Nautiloid Ship ride away, Gortash lay in his own bed, idly dragging his fingers over the pillow next to his. He felt foul. Orin's flirations were usually dredged in promises to gut him, to spill his blood till she could bathe in it. It usually left him feeling disgusted, but today it left him feeling nostalgic.

You weren't like Orin, despite having the same Bhaalspawn blood running through your veins. Your flirations were more subtle. Teasing. Flashing the dog a bone only to hide it away, and smirk as it sniffed hopefully at you. She was nothing compared to you.

With a low exhale, Gortash once more began to ruminate on where you were. Why you let Orin take over. What she had done to you.

And what must be done to get you back. No matter how much blood would be spilt, throats slit, lives lost, he knew that none of the dreams he had would cease until you were back at his side.

#nsft #quincewrites #enver gortash #gortash #gortash x durge #gortash bg3 #dark urge #bg3 dark urge #anyway here's wonderwall #ehe #okay im going to bed since my first masters class is tomorrow #wish me luck lads

[rolling-storm-writing]

-Ghost/top!M reader: “I’m right here, baby”

Reader was put into a nasty coma and ghost hasn’t been the same. Still desperately trying to make you happy even through this long slumber.

A/N: im not one to write sad or dark things and this one really is not to heavy but still beware just in case. I hope y’all enjoy!

edit: this fic includes suicidal elements so please read with caution

“To grieve deeply is to have loved fully.”

But you weren’t even gone your lungs still filled with air, eyes watching through closed lids, and ears perking when you heard his choked sobs.

“Babe, Baby, (y/n).”  The sound of his voice drowned out by the hammering of gun fire and ringing in the air.  Sulfur and smoldering flesh danced along the ground, covering the both of you in its dark loving embrace.  

You couldn’t move only watch through blurred eyes the frantic ones staring right back at you.  Simon had cold eyes, deadly sharp shark eyes.  Eyes that loved you and softened so sweetly when you were in his focus.  “I’m right here, baby,” Simon murmured the rain of his tears dotting your face as you were carried up to the light.  Safe and secured in these trembling arms of your Angel.

“He’s been like that since we got here…” Price whispered to Gaz as the rest of the team watched their crumbling comrade.  The surgery was over but the doors remained shut and the curtain drawn shut, The Ghost never prayed to God for his mercy but today he did.  Not as a monster of the 141 but as Simon Riley, still stained in his blood dried gear curled up on the floor just outside your door.  His trembling hand pressed against the wall almost trying to push through the concrete to reach you.

The next morning nothing had changed, you  wouldn't open your eyes and Simon tried to keep hope.  And as days turned to weeks he continued to stay, living off the cold hospital food and you, your liquids.  

Your muscles started to fade and your face sunk in a little bit almost like how you looked before meeting the 141.  A scrawny guy would never had the pleasure of eating  los vaqueros cooking, raiding Alex’s snack stash, or wolfing down a plate of ribs with ghost for a free meal.

“You look beautiful” he whispered pressing a kiss to your forehead brining the blanket up a bit higher.  A heavy thing Farah had made and sent over to make sure you didn’t “freeze to death”.

Weeks passed and the ghost was starting to grow weary of this room you were trapped in.  Books stacked high and puzzles glued and hung up for decoration of the room.  Plants grew with flowers blooming just for you, a heating lamp to mimic the sun on your greying skin. 

His lips pressing soft kisses to your own  and everywhere you always liked him to.  

Sometimes pacing, screaming at you when he halted his steps or begging you to just wake up when the days got particularly hard. The rage whispering, and sweltering river of tears of his begging apologies.  Curled up to you wrapping your arms around him as if you’re still truly awake to soothe him.

Seven months, long and and quiet without your laughter to bring his own.  Simon had grown smaller lost weight and shoulders no longer strong enough to carry the world.  You had grown thinner almost sinking into the bed and lost in the sheets until the nurses would roll you over, keeping the bed sores away so the long stillness wasn’t to obvious.

Even then the sores still bloomed and Simon ran another bursting dam of tears into the already overflowing river.

A year passed and when the January dreariness started he brought you crisp mangos that Rudy had grown.  Doting the slices with sweet chili lime and holding the mixture to your nose, letting the juices run down to your cracked dry lips.  

“It’s spi-“

It was a deafening sound like a bursting bubble or shattering glass.  Your weary eyes a shocked glaze as they stared at the widened ones of your lover.  The smell of gun powder filled your nose with familiar smell of iron.  The warm trickle and crimson droplets ran down your pretty face, mouth open and agape in a permanent disbelief.

Simons trembling hands steadying as he crawled into bed next to you, the barrel soft under his chin and burning with the heat of it previous discharge. The fire of it leaving a crisp edge at the new hole in his face, a perfect pair with yours…

——————————————————————-

A/N: i don’t even know why I wrote this tbh- imma go write that Price one to make myself feel better

#cod #cod mw22 #x male reader #cod x male reader #modern warfare #ghost mw2 #ghost x male reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #mw2 headcanons #call of duty #Angst #top male reader #smut #open requests #male reader #hurt/comfort #alejandro x rudy #soap modern warfare #captian price

[christinebloodwrittings]

To hunt or be hunted #10

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader x Lucifer Summary: Just a window to what the beginning looked like, before the deal, and wine and dine with Luci. Warnings: Angst, blood, Charlie being a divorce child.

I'm brewing something good here, a very special friend of mine is writing the smut for the next part, so please be patient.

Hazbin Taglist: @sakuraluna2468 @boogiemansbitch @mysterypotatoink @sibsteria @cherry-cola-100 @readergirlstuff @phoenixica24 @martinys-world @alientee @jellyroom2 @jewelsrules @ladyzaunis @zealousllamawolf @kittycat246 @shamblezzz

Young, idiot and most of all, blood lusted.

“They have never caught me and they never will. They have never seen me, for I am invisible, even as the ether that surrounds your earth. I am not a human being, but a spirit and a fell demon from hottest hell” you laughed repeating your own word written in blood.

How could you explain death? Its smell, sandalwood. Its feeling? Warm, ember heat-like. After hitting 2000 victims, your mind drifted to a state of noise. Multiple voices drove your senses to anger, wrath, the influence of your hate had incinerated your reason, and made you seem like a monster in the night.

The coarse sound of the metal dragging the street was all the New Orleanians could hear besides the jazz playing, because that was the only condition you put to spared those who claimed themselves innocent. The list in your hand seemed infinite as re enforcements settled in your city.  

Walking around the bayou reviewing the same, you found the gentleman image of your desires eating some lady’s arm behind a willow tree, such nauseating devotion made your core feel butterflies.

Endless names, nonending blood flow. Suddenly food didn’t satiated you, water had the contrary effect on you, this had to stop. Your axe in hand, in the cold of your marital bedroom, you lit a candle, its dim light barely managing to fight the gloomy atmosphere. And you laughed, for the first time after having cried so much death and pain.

For the first time your hands shook on your axe, but that didn't matter, as soon as your vision blurred, you moved automatically, forcing the blade against your face, right in the middle. Again and again hard and breaking sounds, blood on your dress and sheets, by some supernatural force you managed to split your own skull in two before losing your life completely. The last thing your eyes saw among the blood that fell from your eyelids was the candle that started a fire.

You died at the hands of the Axe-man.

Everyone pictures purgatory in a different way, usually something they would hate, in your case that was a Hospital corridor, with a red lighted number count, waiting to be your turn.

"Miss Lionheart, I must say that we were waiting for you, we had a predicament about where to put your soul," the secretary, a lamb with pink fur like cotton candy, examined documents all with images of you without your face, "On the one hand you freed many girls from sexual slavery, she also lived being honest, fair and in her moments benevolent" her bitter tone contrasted with the reading of your judgment.

"However a life is a life, the good deed will not be praised because it was stained with violence, insanity, wrath, vengeance and pride" she rearranged her glasses as a fifty-year-old lady would, "Also, you renounced God and his teachings, I fear that hell awaits you" she gave you a pious look, if it were up to her, you would be enjoying eternal life in heaven, but the decision was made by a power greater than her.

Would you have lived better if you had known that heaven was real? You asked yourself, seeing the shiny door contrast with the dark and red sky. On the other hand, did you regret cutting those girls' chains? No.

You fell, the hot wind hissed on your skin, slowly engulfing you like embers, the ground shook and a great roar was caused by the impact of your new body on the dry, sulfurous soil on the outskirts of pentagram city.

Years before the technology impact.

Relatively young, addicted to the tingle of consuming a soul. It is a sensation like no other, making deals with souls for asylum and care. You took advantage of those who didn't know a better alternative, the faceless monster they called you, a faceless chimera. One of the first Overlords you met was Zestial, who repudiates you, he’s disgusted because he thinks you’re a rebel without morals.

You would rather die than admit that you were almost killed in your first extermination, an angel who returned home with her mask broken, just because you understood too late that the edge of your axe didn’t make cuts on her skin, instead the holy blade rose your arm, making your blood sizzle like when you but bloody meat on the grill.

Barely managed to escape her. It's funny that a being considered divine is more bloodthirsty than a serial killer, it is but it doesn't cause you much fun.

The pain of the wound clouded several of your senses for years, the good thing is that with a total count of seven million souls and the tobacco business taking over years after your arrival, the souls gave you enough strength to overcome the pain.

Call it destiny or divine mercy, but the hotel was your refuge when the acid of the rain began to melt your skin. Among the cobwebs and the rats you slept, you let the power help with the wounds. "Hey, that looks bad, do you need help?" soft and sweet, Charlie tried everything to seem that way, "How much is it going to cost me?" She didn't mean to laugh at you, but the princess knew little about what was happening on the streets of her kingdom.

"Nothing, I just want to help, I can't promise you perfection but the scar will be great?" she tried to make you feel better. A ray of sun in the dark Charlie is, in your eyes she resembled a lot of your own daughter, the slight curve of her smile, the golden locks, the warmth radiating from her mere presence.

You were far too much of a fool to admit you loved that, instead you wanted to destroy her.

Weakness, in your path to the power, it was a term that couldn’t exist. Letting you help her, even seeing that she was in a worse state than you, put a patch in your heart, it had been there for a long time, caused by time. Although it's true, she offered you her hand and you snatched it from her, figuratively.

But what started the fight itself? Going down the hill from where the hotel is established, into the hole where it was rumored the archangel and his wife had fallen, with dagger in hand you heard her talk about how much it hurt her that her mother had turned her back on her, not a word had she said to her before. to take his suitcases and leave. Without really listening you raised the object, her back an open target, but when you were about to end her, she disappeared from your view.

The air around became dense, almost tangible, the dagger flew from your hand and embedded itself far from your reach, that was when you turned to see the monster that could become the princess of hell.

Two months of knowing her, down the drain.

And then the deal was given, despite how angry she was, she helped you with your injuries and you with hers, with the few powers that she allowed you to possess you fixed the hotel to look less in ruins, you paid to fix it a little even if it was not the best workmanship.

"Can you say something to make me feel better?" She said with a blanket over her body, looking at the fireplace, "It's raining acid" you sat next to her, leaving her cup of sweet tea in front of her, with a small plate of cookies, "How does that help me?" She said discouraged, "Instead of focusing on the acid, just notice that we no longer have leaks, and enjoy the sound" She took your advice, closed her eyes and listened.

“You’re right” she smiled, first in a while.

You snapped out your trance when the king kissed your cheek, his breath was warm and minty.

Lucifer had promised to take you to one of the best restaurants in his kingdom, without taking into account the terror that his presence and yours would cause, of course. The poor group of waiters watched attentively as Lucifer chose a table that he liked, one near the stage where a comedian occasionally appeared. The group looked with pity at one of his companions, that was his assigned area.

The king took the chair and gallantly invited you to sit, after you did he could’ve sat in front of you, but he decided to be by your side, at a distance in which he could have your hand in his. “Welcome your majesty and miss Axe-man, can I get you started on anything?” the waiter was sweating himself to death, as Lucifer ordered some entrees and drinks while they cooked up some kind of demon lobster.

He promised you’d love the taste, and he weren’t wrong, “I have no idea why I haven’t tried this before” he was delighted he could show you new things, he even introduced you to absinthe, which is an anise flavored liquor that can in fact cause severe intoxication when consumed a large quantities. That is why it is served in very tiny glasses.

“So, how is it?” he threw a laugh when he saw your frown as soon as the liquid went down your throat, “Tastes earthy, with a kick, I think I’ll stick to either fruit cocktails or whiskey” he made a signal to the waiter, who brought you a glass of a single malt type of whiskey, “Was your idea knowing that I wouldn’t like it or the waiter’s insight?” he smirked “Both” you kissed his cheek then motioned your hand so the boy would come near you enough to slip a 50 hell buck in his pocket, “Good thinking”.

An inner part of yourself thought it was funny the amount of respect or fear you got by yourself, but with his hand on yours, people saw you as an asset not worth the chance of getting killed for even see you in a wrong way. It gave you sensations down your crotch, right in your sadism side.

“You love it don’t you?” he knew you knew what he meant, “It became my new guilty pleasure” he chose your dress, well rather suggested, he wanted to match with you.

He didn't know whether to change his style or give you something that matched him, he didn't want to disrespect you in any way, you chose to get out of the black for a day and try to open yourself up to a new possibility. With a snap of his fingers he materialized a dress on your body that you really liked.

From the bust to the waist it was white adorned with embroidery of flowers of different sizes and flowers, all white. The skirt was long and uncut, falling perfectly to your ankles, a beautiful scarlet red that matched his wings. It was a very conservatory dress, fit to the time you were born in, but that accentuated your features in a perfect way.

“You look beautiful” “All thanks to my designer” 'Did she liked this sort of dresses too?' You thought, “Lilith liked things that would show off more skin, in case you were wondering” you were, he knew that as soon as he looked at you, while taking a sip out of his drink, “I couldn’t help it” he gave you a gentle squeeze on your hand, “I know” he wasn't angry, at all.

“Do you read my mind?” A type of tension in the air, breathable, yet he had you tied by your hands and feet in his gaze, let them damn you, because the devil is beautiful. “I don’t need to; your eyes are pretty sincere” He wondered what your eyes would look like without your soul being owned by someone else, he was grateful that someone as good as his daughter had you instead of a heartless overlord that could use you as he pleased.

“I hate the way you read me” you whispered close to his ear, sending a shiver down his spine, “No you don’t” he offered you a cocky smile and a soft kiss to the hand he was holding.

“Thank you for being for me last night” his voice was soft, still carrying a lot of pain. With a smile and a soft caress to his cheek you spoke, “Anytime, Luci” his name rolling down your mouth was heaven to him.

Later that night the rest of the hotel was awake and hanging out in the parlor, “Hey Y/n, how did it go?” Charlie waved at you from the fire place, while Vaggie asked “Where’s the king?”, you laughed and showed a little of your neck under your coat that he had conjured, showing a sleeping white snake, “He had a little too much to drink, suddenly he was snoozing and a snake” Charlie let out a chuckle, “I’ll take his royal self to bed if you guys don’t mind“ Angel went running to your side to take a photo of sleepy Luci, “He looks so cute like that” he cooed excitedly, “I know, right?”.

He in a puff of golden glitter he turned back to his adorable self, just as you were setting him down on the bed, “Don’t leave me” me muttered, deep asleep, “I’ll be back in a few minutes, I promise” he snuggled against your plushie, purring slightly at your caresses. His light snoring was your signal to pull his boots off and finish tucking him in.

Now, what you promised to Alastor, indulging him in a few drinks.

#alastor x reader #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #radio demon #cursed cat alastor #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel fanart #alastor x lucifer #alastor fanart #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #radioapple #lucifer magne #lucifer morningstar #hazbin #hotel hazbin #hazbin hotel #alastor smut #alastor x reader smut #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin hotel smut #alastor fluff

[wisepuma23]

Knives and forks clink against the dinner plates, metal scraping and laughter, their base drips with water from above. Drip, drip, drip. Impulse watches. It seeps into the center of the table, a growing patch on the wooden grain. Right between the steaks and loaves of warm bread. Nobody pays it any mind. Drip, drip.

(…Nobody but him.)

Etho says something he doesn’t catch, a bark of laughter from Tango. Beads of water splash onto the surrounding food.

Impulse’s hold on his fork goes tight. 

He needs to fix that. 

“Impulse buddy, you with us?” Skizz shakes his arm, “You agree Scar’s acting weird right?”

“Yeah yeah,” Impulse answers on auto-pilot, “I heard rumors he’s been trying to get kills. Yellow Scar, man.”

Tango cackles and the conversation cycles on. Impulse steels his jaw, he can’t zone out again. Keep pretending, he reminds himself. It wouldn’t be good to stab his teammates at the dinner table. He’d have to clean the table out. Maybe pull out the entrails from the cracks in the grain of wood.

(Drip, drip.) 

No, focus. 

Focus.

(A faint, metallic scent permeates his senses– gone in a moment.) 

Impulse bites into a piece of steak. Buttery juice slides over his tongue and between his teeth. The taste of blood makes his grip on the fork creak. For what feels like the first time in millenia, his glamor itches at his skin. The careful control over his form twitches and squirms like a coiled snake poised to strike. 

Show them what you really are, hums in his mind. The dripping echoes like a wardrum. Show them your true face.

 Impulse licks at his lips, “You did a nice job, Tango. It’s delicious!” 

“Aww!” Tango coos, his flames crackling a soft orange-red, “Etho lent me some seasoning but he won’t tell me where he got the happy happy sauce.” 

Impulse takes another bite, canines digging into flesh and bone, and the rip is loud. Or is it loud for him? Again, infernal magic bubbles at the back of his throat. He swallows, appraising the flavor. It doesn’t drown out the sickly sulfur like he hoped. 

“Bdubs?” Impulse guesses with a tease.

“Oh come on,” Etho groans, “Ah I guess that was way too easy.”

“He married me too, remember?” Impulse laughs at Etho’s expression, “Can’t blame me for forgetting the best meals I’ve ever had! Bet he’s feeding his family around now.” 

Etho waves him off as they cackle at the blush rushing up past the mask. Impulse cuts another piece off the bone. Rip, snrk, clink. Idly, he wonders if human skin still made the same noise. 

The clink of metal against the plates, the dull pounding of water. The snap-crackle of Tango’s fire. Buttery-sweet blood coats his tongue.

He remembers the musky smell of Etho's burning hair and flesh, his screams turned into bloody gurgles as he flailed in lava in the first game. Just minutes before everything ended. 

Impulse tears off a chunk of meat.

(Snrrk, clink.)

People die in so many ways. It’s why he loves the variety poison provides— stomachs twisting and lungs seizing— and yet he wonders if anybody’s tried skinning someone, if the server would even allow it.

Impulse swallows a dark laugh, is vivisection on the table? His glamor shivers.

Metal catches the light, the smooth shimmer taking him back. To sharp arrowheads and snapping magma, to a castle reaching into the sky.

He remembers a golden clock.

(Rip, snrk, clink.) 

Impulse remembers the way Bdubs’ flesh bubbled and blistered from the Wither. The way his Red bloodlust sang at the way his corpse crumpled to the ground. Bdubs’ skin growing dark, mottled with blackened streaks and bruised from the Withering and regular battle. 

The worst of it healed over, scars stitched into flesh. But he’d be a liar if he said he didn’t revel in it, the stained canvas left on Bdubs’ face and arms. 

He kissed that face. Peppering them along wither-cracked ribs and arms, tracing every dark and poisoned line with a smile. I’m sorry, he had said. I’m sorry.

He meant it. (Yes, really.)

Impulse hadn’t meant to curse Bdubs with chronic pain and scars, especially since he had to feel the echoes of it through the soulmate bond. He loved Bdubs. Loved him since the beginning.

And he remembers the rip-schk! of the ax in his back. 

The way his blood pooled on the grass as everything went dark.

The phantom feeling of Pearl’s wolves tearing flesh from bone in long strips and bites. Riiiip-snrk-crunch.

Blood dripping from between their teeth.

(Drip, drip.)

Impulse stabs his fork a little harder into the next cut, picturing a handsome face with a cute and crooked grin. Damn him. He glares down at his plate. No, focus. Pretend, he tells himself, you’re good at that, aren’t you?

There’s a hand over his, warmer than it should be. He looks up.

Tango has cocked an eyebrow up with a cute little nose crinkle, “You in?”

Impulse blinks, the words registering in his head.

“Yeah, sure,” He grins, “A walk sounds great. I think I’m tired of Skizz’s stink overpowering the place. We really need to install some ventilation.”

“Hey!” 

And they laugh, bright and loud as Skizz pouts, checking his armpits. The glasses shake as Tango rattles the table with a smack, a cackle on his lips. Etho’s eyes twinkle with amusement.

Impulse’s focus drifts. Back to the present, away from the blood.

(Drip, drip.)

And yet.

(Rip, snrrk, clink.)

…The hunger prevails.  

#impdubs #ethubs #trafficshipping #impulsesv #limited life smp #demon impulse #my writing #puma writes #trafficblr #trafficshipblr #for anyone that's confused this is about Boogey Impulse #im truly so insane about his pov in limlife about it #he's soooooo fucked up and I love the idea that the boogey curse directly taps into his demonic urges #which he only shows in N&S and ZITS #impulse is sweet bc he wants to survive as people do kill all the “evil” demons they come across and that's in the past now haha #ANYWAY impulse struggling to keep his glamor on when he usually forgets its there and just hhhh #tangpulse

[isot1ne]

"Yeah, so apparently while mom and Rodrick were at the zoo, they got kidnapped and Rodrick killed a man."

[ID: The scene at the end of Saw VI where William Easton gets dissolved by acid, drawn in the Diary of a Wimpy Kid style. Brent and Tara Abbott are replaced by Rodrick and Mom Heffley respectively. William looks resigned with the bottom half of his body turned into goop. End ID.]

#saw #saw vi #gore #sort of but its very stylised #diary of a wimpy kid #william easton #brent abbott #tara abbott #this was such a pain to draw i have so much respect for jeff kinney now #also i was cracking up the entire time #art #sawtism #sawposting #saw franchise #saw movies #sulfur stains

[sidthedollface2]

A Crown fit for a God (Part 4)

Part 3

Pairing: Azriel x Fem Reader

Ch Summary: A glimpse into how you stumbled upon The Autumn Court, your relationship with Eris and how you fell into Luciens bed.

And/or

Azriel’s jealousy might destroy any chances he has in getting close to you.

word count: 7.4k

Series warnings: 18+ MDNI, SMUT, angst, hurt/comfort, war, including injuries, fighting, no use of y/n, nicknames, magic, greek mythology, pining, jealousy, soft Az with a little temper, azriel with other women (sorry), reader with another man (get it friend ; )

A/n: this ch is heavy on the Vanssera brothers but Az does help you towards the end. I'm a daydreamer not a writer so if you see any mistakes that's how I dreamt it. Lol

It was dark when you arrived in the Autumn Court, a blazing phoenix from the sky. Your limbs felt foreign, heavy and unstable like a newborn fawn. Rustling of leaves echoed in your new ears, startling you briefly. Your skin felt unbelievably warm despite the wind chapping your flushed cheeks. This new place had a smell of sulfur and wood. Burning wood. No. Burning flesh. A cough erupted from you as you risked breathing in the air. Your lungs expand with every inhale, followed by another violent cough.

A feminine voice called out to you ‘child open your eyes.’ The darkness soon vanished as shades of orange and amber filled your vision. You sat in the middle of scorched grounds, a ring of fire surrounding you with flames too high to jump over. Your arms and legs blackened from ash and dirt. The ends of your hair burned from the impact along with the threads covering your small frame. A lovely woman stood on the other side of the ring of fire. Panic and wonder in her green eyes, you assume directed at you. She's speaking to you in a language you recognise, but unable to voice your response.

With a wave of her hand she motions you to follow her. Standing on wobbly legs, weak and malnourished from your journey, you stumble towards her. Through the high flame you emerge, unburnt and to her surprise uninjured. “Come inside child. Let's get you bathed and safe,” she insists, wrapping you in her warm words and caring eyes. She introduces herself as Marrian, The Lady of Autumn, wife to Lord Beron of the Autumn Court. You told her your name as well but she quickly decided to keep your true identity a secret and gave you an alias instead. She explains that this cabin is a refuge for her and her eldest son Eris, though his visits have become scarce. After you've bathed and your body temperature has returned to normal, neither hot nor cold, she offers you a warm meal and insists you stay the night.

Throughout the years living in the small cabin became your home. Lady Autumn treated you like the daughter she never had. She taught you how to wield your fire magic and it was through that training that you both discovered you possessed more than just fire. You were omnipotent. Unlimited power surged through your veins just as it had before you fell into these lands. She had warned you, begged you to never show your true powers.

Males of this world were ruthless, lords and kings would take and take till you were nothing but ash beneath their boots. You found out how evil lords could be when Lady Autumn returned to the cabin. Her pale skin littered with purple and blue bruises. Dried blood caked her knees and elbows. Her oldest son Eris carried her to bed, teary eyed and blood stained as well. “I promise I'll kill them all.” Eris' voice cracked as he said those words, his mothers broken body haunting him, leaving a bitter taste of his family in his mouth. He’d do anything for her, even killing his own father for her safety. It wouldn’t be easy killing his father or his brothers. The high lord had an army at his disposal and if any of his brothers suspected Eris was the reason for their fathers untimely death, he’d be killed. And by default his mother as well. “I promise I’ll help you,” you added with fire in your eyes and revenge in your blood. “ A bargain then,” he confirmed. Death was coming for them. Death was here.

Many moons ago

You had met all of Lady Autumn's sons but only one really stood out to you. At least only one you wanted to know on a deeper level. Lucien. He had a way with words that was kind yet sarcastic and witty. His humor being the reason your cheeks always tinted the deepest red. He was incredibly handsome, tall and lean and to your surprise so much warmer than the other brothers. It was warm out when Mirrian requested for her carriage to be well equipped for her outing to the farmlands, where she’d try her way to ease the stressed farmers. This brought you to the outer stables, where the horses were being prepped for their journey. Immediately you took sight of Lucien, a worried look on his brow as he paced back and forth, biting his lips raw. “Lucien? Is everything alright?” you questioned, concern in your tone as you approached him.

Lucien immediately straightened, “Oh it’s nothing to worry yourself over, just…..I promised a friend one of Mist’s foals and it seems neither will make it.” Mist was the mare to Eris' Stallion, Blue. They had bred them as both were of a champion line, hoping to strengthen the lineage. Just as you were going to reply a young stable boy rushed towards Lucien, breathless with how quick he was running, “She’s passed Lord, the foal too I’m afraid.” Lucien sighed as he looked to the ground, a look of sadness on his face. “Perhaps I could help?” Both Lucien and the young boy looked at you with bewilderment. “Don’t be silly, the boys are more than strong enough to dig-”

“I don’t mean to bury them, Lucien.” You looked to the boy then, “take me to them please.” The young boy looked to Lucien for approval and with a nod you both followed. Lucien trailed behind you, letting his eyes admire you without your knowledge. At one point his step fell in sync with yours. His arms swung with each step, often grazing his hand with yours. Each touch earns a flush to your cheeks paired with a shy smile. Lucien takes notice and in an act of courage takes your small hand within his, lacing your fingers together.

The stable is set up in rows, where each stall is supplied with straw bedding for comfort, fresh clean water and auto feeders. Lucien placed his hand at the small of your back, gently guiding you to Mists’ stall. Her and the foal were laying still among the straw bedding, their eyes closed like if they were just sleeping. Kneeling beside Mist, you began to pet her silky golden mane.

Since arriving in Autumn you hadn’t used this particular power, its presence slowly dissipating. You often wondered if you still had it. You gave her a gentle kiss along her muzzle, the first step to bringing her back. Lucien and the boy stared in awe, not quite sure what to make of your actions. You then brought your hands to cup over your nose and mouth, breathing into them the air from your lungs. The same air that you hope would work its way into Mist. With your breath trapped between your palms you began pumping your palms together like the thump thump of a beating heart. For each 3 pumps you’d rub your hands together, creating a spark of blue dazzling light.

Lucien gasped as he witnessed the light orb grow bigger and bigger until it was the size of Mists heart. He wondered what words you spoke into the orb as it grew and grew, he’d have many questions for you after this. Questions he’s not sure he was ready to hear. Once the ancient words were spoken into the orb you held it gently in your hands, its glow reflecting off your galaxy eye.

Lucien took notice that throughout this whole experience both your eyes had changed to the colors of the night sky, shades of blue and violet mixed with sparkling starlight. Perhaps your pale eye had other uses as well. With one hand you carried the orb towards Mists’ chest, right where her heart lay still. And the other hovering over her head. You looked to Lucien and the young boy, “no sudden movements, and please cover your ears.”

Lucien's brows furrowed in question, but he did as you requested. So did the boy.

Once you saw that their ears were covered you spoke the following words and hoped that your primordial power was still alive.

“I am Khaos, creator of the abyss and all that the sun touches. Death has taken your hand but I hold onto the other, for your journey has not ended. Hold onto me like the night holds the moon, and I’ll light your way.”

The orb held in your hand suddenly let out a flash of light so bright it could illuminate up the night sky. The light flickered after that intune to the rhythm of a beating heart. Lucien's eyes almost fell from their sockets as he saw what looked like electrical current coming from your fingertips, sending a signal to Mists head, to her brain. Lucien hesitantly looked away from your magical hands and his gaze landed on your beautiful face. Your brows were furrowed in deep concentration, sweat began to trail along your hairline. Your eyes remained open, the galaxy within them orbiting like the earth revolves around the sun. He could tell something was amiss because your jaw was clenched tight and the force you were using to push the light inside her heart was visible in the tremble of your arms.

Dark heavy clouds had covered the blue sky, bringing a violent wind to blow across the Court. Its roar slammed into the high trees and rattled everything in its wake. You had tried with all your might to push the light orb into the horse's chest to revive her heart, but Death was fighting back. You were fighting back. A battle between life and death when you possessed the power of both. Your Life power was taking the backseat as Death became the forefront. Suppress. You needed to suppress that deathly power. A deafening clap of thunder boomed through the stable; blanketing your scream that ripped from your throat as you forcefully shoved the glowing ball of light into Mists’ chest.

Lucien cradled your weak body as you collapsed from the energy you had expelled. “Mother above!” the boy gasped, “she did it Lord. Her chest rises.” Lucien stared at Mist’s chest as she inhaled and exhaled. “Listen to me boy,” Lucien spoke sternly, “you will not speak of what you saw here or I’ll turn you to ash. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand. Not a word.”

“I’ll reward you for your silence, now go.” Lucien tilted his head towards the wide doors, signaling for the boy to leave.

His gaze traveled back to you, pulling your body closer as if you’d suddenly disappear. He studied the features of your beautiful face in awe. With a feather light touch he traced over your eyebrow, down the apple of your soft cheek, and over the cute slope of your nose. His thumb gently pulled at your bottom lip, and he wondered how soft your lips would feel against his. It had been easy to fall for you, your heart too pure and kind. Tending to his mothers wounds and encouraging Eris to be better. A better male compared to Beron and his cruel brothers.

Lucien leaned in, his breath fanning over your lips, inching closer. The tickle of his breathing caressed your eyes open, taking in the handsome man holding you, his warm hand cradling the side of your face. “You're incredible,” he whispered, nothing but wonder in the way he was looking at you. Your lips parted in a wide smile as you bathed in his praise. He was the most beautiful male in all of Autumn, and you wanted him, needed him in ways that made you blush. Lucien noted your longing and decided now more than ever that he wanted you too. Without another thought he crashed his lips to yours, groaning into your mouth as you swiped your tongue along his bottom lip. He kissed with the hunger of a thousand wolves, nipping and grabbing at exposed flesh. He wouldn't have you in the stable, where anyone could watch. “I need you now sweetheart,” he growled, as he lifted your body in his arms, whisking you away to his bed chambers in a smoke cloud of orange and gold. It was true what you had heard.

The males of Autumn did have fire in their blood, at least Lucien did. When you told him you had never laid in another males bed before, he slowed down his hunger to devour you. He took things slow at first, stretching you open with his fingers as he peppered kisses and lapped at your clit till you were a withering mess beneath him. When he finally sheathed himself inside you, his length stretching you deliciously- Lucien knew this wouldn't be a one time thing, couldn't be.

What was once friendly chatter and shy glances quickly turned into a romantic whirlwind of horse rides and stolen kisses. Giggles under his sheets as he blew raspberries on your soft stomach. ‘I love you’ whispered in heavy breaths every time he felt you flutter around his cock. Lucien was adamant in keeping the relationship a secret, afraid of what his brothers or Beron would subject you to if they knew. It didn't matter in the long run, all it took was one dinner for the fairytale to come crumbling down.

~~~~~~~

You were allowed in the forest house as Lady Autumn’s ‘Lady in waiting.’ your role was to accompany her wherever she went, and assist her in daily activities. She had introduced you as “Khaos” which quickly turned to “Aos” over time. An orphan to a High Lord from across the continent she claimed. It was all lies.

This role gave you the chance to map out all entries and exits of the forest house, familiarize yourself with all the guards and what times their rotation were to occur and even where Lord Berons bed chambers were. You noted his schedule from early morning till late evenings. Eyes aware of his house guests and sometimes the topic of conversations. No other guest shocked you as much as when the entire Autumn line found themselves seated next to the King of Hybern. You sat between Eris and Lady Autumn, a rare occurrence to be invited to sit with the family. Lucien decided to sit across from you, to not strain his neck while he admired your beauty in comfort, his other brothers followed suit. At the head of the table, Lord Beron and the King of Hybern sat at opposite ends, showcasing their importance and power even at dinner.

Beef ragout and cheese souffle were passed around in the finest flatware. The flame from the candlesticks placed in the center of the table gave off a warm light, casting Lucien in a God-like glow. For a moment you imagined it was just the two of you, enjoying a night out for the world to see. “Try the grey stuff” Eris spoke from your left, spooning into the pudding like substance. Surely he wouldn't attempt to feed…

Lucien's eyes widened slightly as Eris brought the spoon to your lips. There were too many eyes for him or you to make a scene, so instead he looked away as you parted your lips for the delicious treat. It was an honest mistake humming around the spoon as the flavor melted in your mouth, a sweet sound noticed by Eris as he gently thumbed at the corner of your mouth. Wiping away the frosting that was never there to begin with. Lucien had been looking down and didn’t notice the intent behind the action but apparently Lord Beron did.

“Seems like you’ve caught my son's eye, little one. I wouldn't object to a courtship.” Your gaze quickly went to Lucien, had they known of your relationship? Was that why you were invited to dinner, to finally let the secret be known? You were about to respond when Beron addressed his son, “Eris do you find this female attractive enough to bed?”

“Father!” It was Lucien who interrupted, “surely this conversation isn't appropriate for the dinner table?” Lucien attempted to steer away from the current conversation, anger slowly bubbling to the surface. You remained planted in your seat as everything unfolded before you. Being a female in Autumn where even if you voiced your choice in Lucien, you had no right to even speak on the matter. The females were to marry, obey their male partner and breed an army of children if her husband wished. Since the High Lord mentioned it, then his word was law. You’d be tortured if you went against his wishes, Lucien would be beaten for even suggesting the lack of appropriateness of the conversation. Your gaze landed on Lady Autumn, a silent plea for help in your eyes. She merely smiled, squeezing your hand in comfort. You realize there was nothing she could do, as her makeup barely covered a fading bruise beneath her eye. It wasn’t that Eris had been terrible to you, quite the opposite. He just wasn’t the male you had fallen in love with.

“I do find her desirable, and I would be honored to court her.” Eris’s amber eyes met yours, a look that meant he was sorry for the circumstance the both of you were in. “A toast then,” the King of Hybern stood, “ to the happy couple.” He cheered, raising his glass in the air before he threw his head back, downing the flute of wine.

The High Lord followed as well as Eris and his brothers, leaving you, Lady Autumn and Lucien to stare at each other in trepidation. Lucien was going to be sick, his skin had paled at the thought of you producing an heir for his brother. Eris hands all over your soft skin, how dare he desire what belonged to him. Lucien's jaw was clenched so tight he was going to crack a molar. Unable to voice his anger or pull you away to keep you safe, he stood, shooting daggers dipped in faebane at everyone but you. You stared at your lover as he drank from the flute in one fluid motion.

Blinking back the tears as he threw his head back. His eyes met yours once again, red rimmed pools of honey ready to overflow from heartbreak. You were unable to mask the pain you were in as easily as Lucien. It occurred to you that perhaps he meant more to you than you did to him. With a heavy heart you brought your flute up to your lips, and a lonely tear tracked down your cheek. You didn’t want this life. You didn’t want to be a Death God. You didn’t want to marry Eris. You didn’t want other people making decisions for you. You didn’t want to be forced. Yet you agreed, there was no other way.

“Tears of happiness no doubt,” Eris cooed, gently wiping at the tears that followed after the first. Lucien had never looked at his brother with such raging hatred as he did now. Eris wrapped his arm around your waist, settling his hand on your hip as he tugged you close enough to kiss your temple. His gaze trained on Lucien for a hint of a reaction. Lucien swore he saw Eris smirk.

You didn’t stay long enough for dessert, opting to be alone with your thoughts. Walking aimlessly through the halls of the forest house, you didn't attempt to wipe your tears. There was no point in hiding how hurt you were, no reason to put on a brave face. You passed through a stone archway that led to a balcony, overlooking the canopy of trees that fill the forest floor. Autumn was beautiful, but not as beautiful as the stars that littered the night sky. The stars didn’t shine as bright in Autumn, they looked dull and sparse. Not at all what they looked like from home. You missed home, the space beyond the stars.

Hushed whispers floated to your ears and you quickly hid behind the stone railing that curved the space of the balcony. “- we were able to modify vegetables and fruit with faebane. The results were successful in potency and effectiveness. We can use these samples in farmlands for mass production, and give high doses of faebane through modes of consumption without the individual's knowledge.” You could recognize Lord Berons voice even though he whispered. “Once we remove the Night Court's High Lord the rest will fall.”

You attempted to peek over the railing, needing to know who he was speaking to, who else you needed to kill. “You’ll become High King of Prythian and keep your title as King of Hybern.” It couldn't be, you felt panic rising up your throat. The King of Hybern and Lord Beron in an alliance? You needed to tell Eris. Your bargain to assist Eris in killing Autumn's High Lord just became more difficult.

Quickly trekking back through the halls you found yourself in front of Eris bed chambers. You knocked softly at his door, hoping he’d still be awake at this time of night. Shuffling on the other side. you heard him near. Opening the door with a soft click, “what do I owe the pleasure?” he purred as he stared down at you. His chest was completely exposed, toned with a light dusting of freckles, similar to Lucien. Your eyes traced down his carved abs, noticing his narrow hips and how dangerously low his night pants hung. You averted your eyes, focusing on the slight curve of his mouth instead. “I have something to tell you..In private, please.” You don’t know why you were suddenly nervous in front of the princeling. “Is everything alright?” he asked with softness in his tone as his back pressed against the door frame, leaving just enough space for you to squeeze by. Still facing the future Heir you walked over the threshold, your chest grazing his warm body as you slid into his room. Eris' head thumped against the frame, ‘control yourself’ he thought, as the brush of your breasts along his chest had left him breathless.

Explaining in full detail what you heard between The King and Lord Beron took longer than anticipated. Eris took every bit of information and wrote down possible outcomes and strategies to counter the mass production of faebane. On top of killing his father another player had entered the game and now Eris' work to bring down his father had doubled to now needing to bring The King of Hybern down as well.

Eris didn’t know how long he stayed hovered over his desk, but when he finally turned towards his bed and noticed your sleeping form, dawn was fast approaching. He didn’t have the heart to wake you, opting to cover your body with his warm sheets. He had no problem sleeping on the couch, respecting you enough to not join you in bed. He’d fallen asleep at the sound of your soft breathing, the sweetest lullaby to grace his ears.

It had been mid day when you both greeted the high sun, bashful in the position you were in. You apologized profusely for falling asleep in the Heirs bed. But he simply waved you off, “nonsense Fawn, what kind of male would I be to rush you off in the middle of the night?” Your cheeks flushed at the pet name as Eris opened the door to his bedroom, letting you pass by easily. You turned to thank him, missing the male that stepped back into the corner of the hall, hiding himself from view. But it was Eris who spoke first, “thank You, for last night. I’d like to see you again.. soon. to talk about,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m really sorry about all this,” he gestured at the air around him. “It's not your fault. We’ll figure it out,” you said through a sigh.

Eris wondered if you would ever forgive him for the way things were turning out, he didn’t want to force your hand. Hadn’t even thought about it, but as he pulled you in and wrapped his arms around you in a warm embrace, and inhaling the scent of your hair he was right where he wanted to be. Even though nothing intimate transpired that night, Lucien's imagination planted a rotten seed as he witnessed you leaving Eris bedroom. Eris' hold on you lasted too long to be a friendly hug and the flush on his brother's bare chest told a different story. Lucien decided then that he no longer wanted to be in Autumn, he’d branch out to other courts, and take you with him. But first he needed to speak with Eris.

Present

The rays of the morning sun cracked through the window, and once again you found your side of the bed empty. Loneliness has been a better lover to you than the future Heir. Before you had left to seek out the other Dead Gods; Eris only visited the cottage to see his mother and make love to you.

You hoped things would be different once you returned, but he hardly stayed the night and he was usually gone by morning. You’d never admit his absence made you feel used, causing more pain than you wanted.

After Lucien you vowed to never care for another male again. Never give your heart out willingly. From your experience everything they touched seemed to break, crumble, and wither. They hurt the women they claimed to love and protect, only for them to be beaten and assaulted. Traded to the Highest Lord in exchange for an alliance or merely because the female had the hips and cunt to breed powerful heirs, and that wouldn't happen to you. You wouldn't be touched with careless hands when you so beautifully crafted the very soil they walked on and the fresh air they breathed.

After your morning shower you find yourself searching the cupboards for your contraceptive tea. Placed high above the eyeline, away from Eris and Marrian. You had taken the tea without Eris’ knowledge. He wanted you to carry his child; it would be under your terms and only when you wanted. The decision to bear children would be out of love and with someone whom you formed a relationship organically, not like it had been with Eris.

You found no tea in the cottage. Not even healing salves for your wounded wing from your attack days ago, another injury unnoticed by Eris. You didn’t have the necessary ingredients for either so you traveled through the forest searching for the particular herbs. You could have gone to a healer for your wounds but not for the tea. Loyal to the court, merchants would talk and the last thing you needed was Lord Beron finding out and throwing you in a cell for insubordination. Contraception was hard to come by in Autumn, another rule placed by controlling males.

You were in deep concentration, biting at your fingernails trying to think of the last ingredient for the tea. When a sneaky shadow wrapped itself around your waist, squeezing you tightly just as one would for a hug. You stumbled back at the force in which the shadow had rushed to you. But you were met with a hard muscular surface and gentle hands that held onto your hips for stability. You then felt the cool caress of Azriel's breath across your neck, “You haven't healed your wing yet, any reason why?” He asked. Still in his hold, you quickly turned to face him, a little shocked to see him still in The Autumn Court so close to your cottage. “What are you doing here? How did you find me? Oh my Gods you're going to get killed.” You fire off question after question, glancing behind him and all around in a frenzy of panic and caution. Azriel follows your hurried gaze from left to right, amused in your nervousness.

“Answer my question first and I'll answer yours, deal?” Azriel suggests with a smirk.

“Ughh, fine. Not here though, come on.”

Azriel stifles a laugh as you pull him by the hand, a large overgrown bat following a pretty girl like a lost puppy. You lead him to a giant hollowed out tree trunk, the inside large enough for you both to sit without being seen. Azriel sits on a thick twisted root that's sprouted from the ground, his knees touching yours as you sit opposite of him.

“So what are you doing here?” You begin.

Azriel chuckles, “nope, you answer me first.”

You sigh and roll your eyes, “I’ve forgotten how to heal,” you mumble softly. Azriel scratches at his temple, brows furrowed in clear confusion, “I'm sorry, did you say you've forgotten how to heal?”

“Yes, I have forgotten how to heal, now answer my questions.” you crossed your arms over your chest, adamant in knowing what the hell Azriel was doing in your neck of the woods.

“But how did you forget? People forget names and faces, not how to use their power, “ he prods, striking an exposed nerve that puts you on edge.

“ You know what, forget it. I’m in a hurry, I don't have time to play games with you. I already told-”

“Alight, alright. I’m sorry. Will you at least let me help you?”

You narrow your eyes at him, suspicious of his intentions. “Why?”

This was going to be harder than Azriel thought, “I just….I’d like to repay the favor to someone who did a good thing.”

You scoff with a shake of your head. He was unbelievable, but you allowed him to help. It would be a stretch to reach your wing let alone change the bandage. You handed Azriel your satchel with all the supplies you had gathered. He took each item out and laid them out, recognizing each leaf and its purpose.

Azriel immediately notices the list of ingredients scribbled on a note paper in your bag. At the top of the list are the three herbs needed for the contraceptive tea. His eyes widen as they shoot to your pretty face and down to your womb. Nightshade, only found in The Night Court was missing from your bag. One of the many herbs imported to the other courts for distribution. You wouldn't find it in Autumn’s forest.

His jealousy flared slightly as he couldn't imagine another male touching you, seeing your naked figure bare for someone else. He shouldn't be jealous, you don't belong to him, but every ounce of his body is screaming for your attention. Any ounce of affection you're willing to give, Azriel would gladly accept.

Azriel doesn't notice when you remove your top. Keeping your breasts covered with your arms wrapped around your chest, you nestle between his spread legs, wings displayed beautifully like angels from the heavens. His breath hitches as your backside grazes against his crotch, the close proximity doing nothing to settle his nerves. Your skin looks soft and delicate, he almost doesn't want to taint you with his scarred hands.

But the urge to touch you overpowers his negative thoughts and he takes the first steps in removing your bandage. He’s about to caress your wing when he suddenly remembers the sensitivity of his own, “Illyrian wings are very sensitive in this area, I’m about to remove the bandage, I just want to make sure you're comfortable.” You peek over your shoulder giving him a shy smile at his thoughtfulness, “they’re sensitive too, based on the type of touch and pressure. But it’s the only way.” He nods in understanding, and the first glide of his fingers against your skin startles you. “Sorry,” he winces, quickly removing his hands. “It’s Ok, I just wasn't expecting..” You weren't expecting his tortured hands to carry such a tender touch. You couldn’t tell him that, not sure what he would think, “you can continue, please.”

Azriel resumes his attempt at removing the bandage, gently pulling back the adhesive holding against your skin. It was a sick kind of torture having this handsome male care for you in a way that no one ever has, his careful touch is delicate and soft despite his rough exterior. Each brush against your skin felt like a sweet kiss between lovers, healing not only your skin but the broken pieces of your soul. You let yourself relax under his touch, memorize the feel of careful hands nurturing you. Making you whole not only physically but mentally. In your blissful state a soft moan slips past your lips when his fingers glide over the space between your wings. Azriel smiles at the sound, wishing to be the reason for every sinful noise out of your mouth.

Azriel fills the silence in hopes to hush any more sweet sounds that may arouse him.“To answer your question, my shadows seem to be very fond of you. And they’ve been able to track you easily. I’m not really sure why or how but they pick up on your scent, and I just… from the last time we…” Azriels cheeks flush as he remembers your last encounter, “Why aren't you happy?” He’d thought about your previous conversation and how you mentioned you weren’t happy. The admission plagued his mind, wondering what weighed so heavy on your heart that happiness was no longer on the table. And the way you said it so casually made it seem you haven't been happy for a long long time.

You’re about to dismiss his question, your life is none of his business but something in the way he's touching you allows you to be vulnerable.

“I’m unhappy because I’ve lost my way home. Each time I die and resurrect, I come back forgetting a piece of myself, powers I once had are temporarily gone, or I don’t recognize the people around me. I’m just trying to find my way back, but I can’t seem to remember. Nothing is keeping me here but my mission to bring Death to this realm, and the many bargains Ive made in search of home. I have no family to keep me here. No worthy lovers. I feel stuck in a place that only sees me as a tool for their personal gain, And I’m tired of the confinement.”

Your voice wobbles, as you explain the depth of your pain. He knows too well the feeling of not belonging, the loneliness weighing heavy on one's shoulders. Your memory loss after each death explains his earlier question; the reason you don’t remember him and the reason you couldn't heal yourself.

He can’t see your face, but he notices your hand coming up to wipe away your fallen tears. Selfishly he doesn't want you to part from his world. His feelings for you are already so strong, he couldn't bear a life knowing you weren't in it. The Mother was cruel in her ways, he had just found you after 500 yrs only to reach you on your way out. But he’d choose your happiness over his every time.

He listens intently as you reminisce about your home. How large the moon looks from your humble throne, its proximity so close you can fly to its surface. The brilliant stars that shine brighter year after year, their vibrancy thawing the coldest of hearts. Sapphire and violet swirls of the milky way, a visual so stunning it leaves you breathless. A longing sigh passes between your lips, shoulders deflate slightly. “I’m sorry for unloading all that on you,” you shake your head, info dumping was never your intention. “Can you tell me what your home is like? I really liked the stars in The Night Court. It’s one of the reasons I stayed longer than I should have.”

“You don’t ever have to apologize for how you feel,” he says, as he continues to apply the healing salve, its cooling properties taming the angry laceration. “The Night Court is very similar to how you describe your home.” A slight blush travels up his neck, “I’d like to show you where I live, See how you like it there. I think you’d find it more home like than any other Court,” Azriel flusters as he mumbles the words out.

“I’m not sure how that would work out. I seem to have angered your High Lord.” You lift a shoulder in a shrug, “but thank you for the offer.” Azriel hadn’t thought how Rhys would behave if he knew you were a guest in the very city you threatened. How the Inner Circle would perceive you. What kind of High Lord would that make him if he did allow you to visit Velaris. Rhys head wasn’t shoved that far up his ass, was it?

“Will you allow me to help you find happiness then?”

His question has you shocked. He feels it in the way your wings have straightened and slightly flared. No one has bothered to ask if you were happy, let alone help you seek said happiness, certainly not someone you barely knew. Something about this male was different. Special, even. In a world where death and violence was in every court, usually brought on by males. This one had a thoughtful heart. Where men took from you, Azriel had given. He’d offered his services to kill for you. Offer his body to worship you. He offered his scarred masculine hands and willed them to be delicate and soft if only to heal the damaged pieces of a goddess. And now he knocked at the gates of your guarded heart willing to weather the storm in pursuit of your happiness for nothing in return. Those wrought iron gates flashed gold with every rap, Its faint pulse crashes against your heart like a violent wave, pummeling jagged rocks along the coast.

Azriel was everything you had ever wanted in a male and it scared you more than anything.

Then you remembered the words spoken by The Suriel, ‘An invisible thread that weaves and winds, binding hearts two of a kind.’

No. You wouldn’t allow your emotions to get the best of you, so you shut them down.

Azriel stilled. His deep heavy breathing suddenly the only sound that could be heard. His hands trembled in his lap. He felt it, the golden pull towards you. It was as if he was watching himself from above, gripping those iron bars so tightly his knuckles turned white, gold spreading beneath his palms coating the iron, bar by bar. But then you pushed. And he watched as your heart frosted over in stone and cold Ice, protecting itself from breaking. The iron gates doubled down, forging a firewall of blue and orange flame. He would need to jump through fire and ice to even get to you.

“There's a book, well two books I’ve been looking for. They contain the spell I need to remember my past and to go home. Book of The Minds Eye and The Book of Breathings.” It was dangerous telling Azriel, but you had exhausted every option. Bryaxis would look In Velaris Library for The Minds Eye, and if he found it he’d give it to you when you both met in the coming war and his bargain would be done. But the book of breathings was impossible to find. If he knew where to look, then it was worth telling him.

Azriel blinked back to reality confused. Did you not feel the undeniable pull? or maybe you did but you closed off, blocked it. Wait. Was that…Azriel slammed his eyes shut, willing to go back to that place, wherever it was, drag his body across glass and gravel, he didn't care. Hell he’d jump through hoops of fire if it meant you got to be his. All he saw was vast emptiness.

“Did you feel that tug?” Azriel longed for that connection, and had been looking for it his entire life. At one point he felt unworthy of such deep love. Jealousy gripped him so hard he began to resent his brothers for finding their mate. But as he saw how happy and whole they were, their joy had bounced off and with time he welcomed their delight. The Mother it seems skipped him or she didn’t deem him worthy. Perhaps it was the manner of work he was in, who would love such a soul who tortured people. Would his chosen one stomach his work and still desire to be in his presence? He had a feeling you were his chosen one, you had to be with how much he thought of you. Even after all these years searching it had to mean something in the end right? There had to be a reason he couldn't get you out of his head.

“I didn’t feel anything at all. I can tell you’ve tended to many injuries, your hands are very gentle.”

“Oh,” Azriel glanced at your fresh bandage, “your wound. Right. It's cleaned and I applied the salve and new bandage.” he couldn't help the sadness in his tone. He was wrong. Of course he was wrong, you were a Death God and what would a God want with him? You kindly asked him to turn around so you could pull your top back on, “good as new I’d say.” You shot him with a wide smile, flexing your wings, showcasing their movement despite the taut feeling of the bandage.

He nodded in agreement, “you were saying something about a book?”

Azriel caught some of the information as you retold what you were looking for, his mind weaving in and out. Thoughts between this book you were in search of and that lingering feeling deep within his chest. He was startled to hear Rhys' voice in his mind suddenly, ‘We’ve been invited to the Day Court In celebration of Helion’s Birthing Day. Wrap up your findings and report at once. With or without the girl, Mor’s returned with her findings.’

Azriel followed you out of the hollowed tree, pacing back and forth anxiously, “There's this celebration in another court. I was hoping you’d attend. With.. with me? They have multiple libraries and Helion he’s a spell cleaver, I’m sure he’d allow you to visit the-”

You cut off his rambling, a clear attempt at convincing you to the Day Court. “Are you asking me on a date shadowsinger?”

The flush across his cheeks was adorable for an illyrian his size, “ Yes!” he confirmed, “I’d be honored to have you on my arm.”

Gods you wanted to accept and forget about your duties even for a night. You’d be working for Lady Autumn, ensuring her safety in secret as well as attending to her needs. “I’ll be in attendance. But I'm afraid I’ll be on someone else’s arm.”

“Someone else? Who?” He asked, trying to calm his racing heart from its imminent break.

“Eris Vanserra.”

He should have stopped and stayed silent as his eyes darted to your bag. But his thoughts came spewing out of his mouth in anger, and once again he’d let his jealousy take over. “You’re fucking him! That's why you’re looking for contraceptive tea, I saw it in your bag.” Not a question but a statement.

“Who I fuck is none of your business!” You spat with equal rage, power surging through your veins clouding the once bright sky in gloom.

Azriel scoffs, and with a nasty bitter tone he landed a blow so low even his shadows recoiled, “how could you say you loved lucien and then fuck his brother? No wonder he left you!”

Immediate.

Regret.

Your face crumbles in pain as his words form a dagger and slice at your beating heart. As if sensing your sorrow, a roar of thunder echoed nearby, threatening to unleash its ferocity.

“Shit! I’m sorry. Please… I didn’t” Azriel inches forward. You step back, eyeing him slowly from head to toe and back up again, nothing but loathing and hurt in your cold stare. You remained silent but all Azriel heard through the agony in your beautiful face was ‘you aren't worth my time.’

“I don't expect you to understand the sacrifices one has to make when you're in love, when no one has ever loved you! And the next time you decide to disrespect me, I'll be sure to remind you how vile a Death God can be.”

You didn’t bother to look back at him as you walked away.

Part 5

A/N: Thanks for taking the time to read, I really appreciate it. :)

taglist: @blackgirlmagicforever @going-through-shit @dr4g0ngirl @mybestfriendmademe @isa1b2h3 @julesofvolterra @scooobies @thisblogisaboutabook @lilah-asteria

#azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel x fem!reader #azriel x y/n #azriel spymaster #azriel fanfic #azriel angst #azriel #acotar x reader #acotar imagine #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #acotar #azriel x oc #eris vanserra #lucien vanserra

[escxelle]

i'm convinced sleep token are stem girlies because the amount of physics, maths and chemistry in their lyrics hmmm. lemme list all the references below the cut <3 (just as an fyi: this is a joke and i'm not being serious!! i'm just pointing out all the science references in their songs, dw)

alright, bit of a stretch to start but: "sulfur on your breath, granite in my chest." - granite from take me back to eden (2023). sulfur obviously being an element and granite is a rock (i'm not a chem student, i do astrophysics sorry idk anything else skdjsjd)

i'm being really picky but like "these days i'm a circuit board, integrated hardware you cannot afford." - aqua regia from take me back to eden (2023). vessel is an engineering girlie!! /j also i could point out the latin title is a mixture of nitric acid and hydrochloric acid sooo

still in aqua regia, we have "sugar on the blood cells, carbon on the brain." mhm, speak stem girlie!

aqua regia is full of stem textbooks: "oxytocin running in the ether. silicon ballrooms. subatomic interactions if it's all good. gold rush, acid flux. saturate me, i can't get enough. cold love, hot blood." so the debrief: oxytocin is a hormone. ether are a class of compounds. the rest i think is self-explanatory, as they're elements and cute little stem terms oxox

i love stretching. "your viscera welcome me in." - vore from take me back to eden (2023). viscera are the large organs inside the body, including the heart, stomach, lungs, and intestines. biology girlies!! /j

more stretching <3 "who encrypted your dark gospel in body language? synapses snap back in blissful anguish." - ascensionism from take me back to eden (2023). encryption is the process of encoding information!! a computer science girlie!! then synapses are the places where neurons connect and communicate with each other <3

"half algorithm, half deity. glitches in the code or gaps in a strange dream." who ate a programming textbook?! /j

"digital demons make the night feel heavenly." side note but i think we should start calling trolls digital demons.

"lipstick, chemtrails, red flags, pink nails." has someone maybe studied chemtrails in their chemistry classes hmmm? /j

as i'm an astrophysics student i have to mention this: "the shifting states you follow me through." - the apparition from take me back to eden (2023). states, huh? liquid turning into a solid time is it? /j

"i feel my shadown dissolving." - rain from take me back to eden (2023). a metaphor or a chemistry textbook? /j

"it's that chemical cut that i can get down with." have many chemical cuts, huh?? /j

i'm an astrophysics girlie (gn) so i have to include this one: "a dangerous disposition somehow refracted in light, reflected in sound."

"i dream in phosphorescence." - take me back to eden from take me back to eden (2023). phosphorescence is a type of photoluminescence related to fluorescence. i mean, come on! the rest lyric? really?

"sink porcelain stained, choking up brain matter and make-up. just two days since the mainframe went down and i'm still messed up." biology and software engineering much? /j

"if my fate is a bad collision." - euclid from take me back to eden (2023). collision? huh are you a particle, hm? also euclid was a greek mathematician ! currently in my special relativity notes i have written "flat euclidean space"! riddle me that, sleep token. /j

"just orbiting the vacuum i am." - atlantic from this place will become your tomb (2021). yes, orbiting like the sun and moon and planets, right?? /j

"push down into membranes and layers, creating a slow dissection." - like that from this place will become your tomb (2021). yeah we get it, you're a biology student /j

"you lie an inch apart on your own continuum." - the love you want from this place will become your tomb (2021). continuum, huh?

"and though echoing futures are the buckling sutures." - fall for me from this place will become your tomb (2021). i bet you've seen many sutures huh dr. vessel! /j

right prepare for a lot of references here folks. "she's not acid nor alkaline." - alkaline from this place will become your tomb (2021). do i really have to explain the actions of this chem girlie? /j

"ooh, let's talk about chemistry 'cause i'm dying to melt through to the heart of her molecules 'til the particles part like holy water. if anything, she's an undiscovered element." i'm sure you'd love to infodump about your favourite subject! /j

"'cause i am broken into fractions." - distraction from this place will become your tomb (2021). i bet you deal with fractions all the time, you maths nerd!! /j

"and we go beyond the farthest reaches where the light bends and wraps beneath us and i know as you collapse into me." - telomeres from this place will become your tomb (2021). light bending? how very relativity of you. also telomeres are structures made from DNA sequences and proteins found at the ends of chromosomes.

"and i choke myself on sacred vapour." - high water from this place will become your tomb (2021). vapour because it's changed state, right? /j

"keep up on the charm offensive anymore." - missing limbs from this place will become your tomb (2021). i'm doing particle physics right now so i know exactly what a charm quark is! also limbs??? hello again dr. vessel /j

"'cause i look for scarlet and you look for ultraviolet." - higher from sundowning (2019). using ultraviolet filters for your astrophotography are you?? /j

"let the impulse to love and the instinct to kill entangle to one." - say that you will from sundowning (2019). entangle? entanglement? quantum entanglement? i'm connecting the dots.

"i want to roll the numbers. i want to feel my stars align again even if the earth breaks like burnt skin." - blood sport from sundowning (2019). an astrophysics fr /j

"and somewhere, somewhere the atoms stopped fusing." more stem!

"and out there, stuck in a quantum pattern, tangled with what i never said." this is something a theoretical physicist would say is all i'm saying. /j

now you have to listen to sleep token to hear these bangers >:)

#i've been obsessively listening to nothing but st for like a straight week #the brain rot got to me okay #sleep token #elle's interests hyperfixiations and shenanigans #escxelle

[eloquent-edits]

🗡️ Analogies for the poetic

similes for describing characters and their behaviors 🗡️ character inspiration

like the sun, radiant and raging against the far horizon, a clear beacon for others to follow

like a panther in the night, patiently stalking its unsuspecting prey

like a trapped bird flitting about, calling out for any help while nipping the hands that try

like a staircase in the woods, worn away by time, building up to something—somewhere—that not even you know

like a tree felled in a creek, uprooted from your home but still holding up to those who walk over you

like the static on old TVs, ever-present and ever-moving, fading to the background

like a cabin in a snowstorm, a comforting mirage as the world clutches me to its icy heart

like the antique vanity resting in the corner, stable in the dizzying array of things that come and go

like a stained glass window, taking the light you see in others and showing them all the colors within

like the glint of a knife, only there when you look from the right perspective

like a cat lounging in a garden, at peace with watching the world pass on

like reflections in a pond, serene yet obscuring what lies below

like a wound that won’t heal, annoying and a reminder of what happened

like syrup wafting through the air, sweet with a touch of familiarity

like the air after rain, fresh with the stench of earth and dew

like my favorite song, an unmistakable tune of nostalgia and hope to dance to

like the nebulae above, a fusion of stardust and the unknown

like a miasma of sulfur and rot, oozing death and corruption wherever you step

like summer, in all it’s stormy fury and welcome firelight

#writing #character prompts #character description #characters #oc creation #oc prompts #oc prompt #oc description #oc design #character design #character inspiration #character building #I like comparing people to what we can sense #it also makes for great visuals #almost a ‘show not tell’ kind of thing #I’ll definitely have more of these coming out #maybe more specific descriptions as I get character ideas

[eurydia]

a self-indulgent drawing of Raphael disheveled and covered in blood

I was inspired to write a short fic to go with it, you can read it below or in AO3: [One Last Visit]

Tav finds Raphael bleeding and near-death in her room in Elfsong Tavern—or so she thinks.

One Last Visit (944 words) by Eurydia

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Blood and Injury, Drinking, Alcohol, Older Man/Younger Woman, Ficlet, Minor Spoilers, Raphael is overly protective of Tav, Hope is such a tease (and so is he)

This is also my gift for the support on "The Lover's Gambit". Thank you so much ❤️!

Tag explanations: - Minor spoilers for Wyll's background - Implied/Referenced Torture - Does not actually happen in the fic, but Raphael briefly describes doing it to someone else

      Tav went to her room in Elfsong Tavern. The rest of her party was still downstairs, drinking and celebrating for the night.

      She opened the door and found Raphael slumped against her bed, his white frilled collar stained with blood.

      “Raphael? What in the Hells happened?” she knelt beside him.

      He glanced at her weakly, managing a smirk. Tav wanted to think it was selfishness that made her start tending to his wounds: if she helped him, he would owe her a favor. But that wasn’t entirely true. She had developed a soft spot for the devil.

      “Do you know what happens when a devil is struck down on this charming plane of existence?” he began, his voice uncharacteristically gentle.       “Stop talking and hold still,” Tav muttered. Presently, she had no patience for his theatrics. She grabbed a napkin off a table and began to wipe his smarmy face with it.       He chuckled. For once, he listened and stayed still, silently watching her dab at his curled lip.

      It wasn’t long before Tav realized there wasn’t a single cut or bruise on him. Either he was concealing them—or feigning his injuries. She gave him the benefit of the doubt for now and looked him over. Bloodstains covered his normally immaculate outfit, some mere splatters while others steadily bloomed in size. He smelled strongly of the Hells, of ash, sulfur and infernal metal.

      Raphael was enjoying this. He figured he could indulge himself a little more and drag the show on.

      “I’ll get Shadowheart—“       He grabbed her wrist gently. Worry strained her fair features.       “As much as I enjoy watching you fuss over me, I’m afraid we don’t have much time,” Raphael said, solemnly. “Soon I’ll be sent back to the hells, to the very point where I last stood before I was…beaten. Potentially for good, this time. But since I’ve grown quite fond of you, I decided to pay you one last visit. For old time’s sake.”       Tav stared at his fingers still curled around her wrist. She slowly took his hand in hers.       “A question you may ask, but only one. True to my word, I shall answer, not run.”       Her gaze fell to a stain somewhere on his chest.       “What is a devil like you truly afraid of?” she decided.

      Raphael laughed. A laugh that came from deep within, unabashed and loud.

      “Oh, you mortals are so gullible! It’s adorable. Do you really think I could be beaten so easily? No need to fetch your favorite cleric,” he snapped. All the bloodstains on his clothes vanished. “It wasn’t my blood, little pup.”       Tav sighed. She shoved him away and walked to her wine cabinet.       “You’re insufferable,” she groaned, opening a Berduskan and taking a long, irritated swig.        “Don’t act so surprised. We are well-acquainted by now.”       He stood then brushed nonexistent dust off his clean clothes.       “Do I dare ask whose blood that was?”       “Let’s just say that vile, drunken creature downstairs won’t be bothering you any longer.”

      Tav set her drink down.

      “What did you do?”       “If you must know: I dismembered him,” he grinned. “Limb by limb, fingernail by fingernail. You should’ve heard his screaming, it was utterly delightful.”       Her back was to him, but he caught her shoulders bowing. He grinned.       “Are you worried about me?”       “Merely protecting my assets,” he replied. “Now, enjoy your night. If you’ll—“       “Wait. You didn’t answer me.”

      Raphael approached her. He extended a hand, brow raised in question. Eventually, she gave her his hand. He conjured up a handkerchief and began to wipe the bloodstains off her fingers.

      “I did not,” said Raphael, his eyes sharpening to a point on her palm. “My heart aches for your horned and heroic friend, Wyll Ravengard. If he’s not in the shadow of his fellow devils, he’s in the shadow of his father. I see why Mizora took pity on the poor pup. After all these years, he still hasn’t given up hope of pleasing him. Hope—such a tease.”

      Raphael said it all in his usual tone, full of melodrama and feigned pathos. At the end, however, Tav caught his gaze softening. Their eyes met, and he quickly finished his task before turning away.

      “You don’t get along with your father?” Tav asked, genuinely surprised. She found it strangely human that even a fiend like him was not immune to such predicaments.       “Unless you consider plotting each other’s downfall as a father-son bonding activity, then no. We do not. Thankfully, I have as much interest in making amends as I do in the affairs of mortalkind.”

      He would never admit it, but he hadn’t told a single soul about how he felt about his father, not even his incubus. Usually, he would’ve taken his leave by now. But the way she stared at him, with tenderness and affection, compelled him to linger a moment longer. He let her draw nearer, until he was close enough to see the scarring in her eye from the tadpole.

      Tav kissed him on the cheek.

      “Thank you, Raphael. I owe you a drink."       “A drink? I think you owe me far more than that." He leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing on her lips. She felt herself rising to meet him, her eyelids fluttering shut, her heartbeat overtaking the murmurs of the Illithid—       He snapped.       “Goodnight, sweetling.”

      She watched him disappear in a vibrant flame. On the spot where he had stood, lay a neatly folded handkerchief. She picked it up and sniffed it, the scent of the Hells—of him—flooding her senses like the most intoxicating perfume.

      Tav put it in her pocket and smiled.

#bg3 #tw blood #bg3 fanart #bg3 raphael #raphael the cambion #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 raphael #my fics #inspiration hit me from nowhere and i just rolled with it lol #he is such a teaseee ugggh i love him sm #he's so fun to write for #happy holidays and thank you <3