#desperation of a child bubbling inside of its dead body

[poursomesunaonme]

size matters

pairing: mahito x fem!reader

summary: your life crumbles before your very eyes before what was the worst night of your life quickly becomes the best.

wc: ~10.9k (holy shit i'm not sorry)

author's note: HELLOOOOO this is my submission for the cummunity server's tender taboos collab! as you can see from the warnings, we chose to go to the taboo side of things>:) so please heed them and proceed with caution!! so happy that this collab came around as this idea was one of my first for the fandom hehe <3 also gigantic amounts of thanks to @nighttimescribbles for being my beta !! this would not be nearly intelligible without u babe<3

cw: mahito is his own warning, nsfw, minors dni, DARK CONTENT, noncon leading to dubcon, monsterfucking, character death (not a canon character), descriptions of death/gore/idle transfiguration, kidnapping, descriptions of injuries (twisted ankles, scratches), use of pet names (honey, sweetheart), restraints (on reader), fingering, mindfuck, tit slapping, nipple play, oral (m receiving), deepthroating, degradation, dick modification (growing size/length/texture), rough sex, dumbification, multiple orgasms, overstim, choking, asphyxiation (to the point of blacking out), anal, praise, triple penetration (vaginal, anal, oral), cockwarming, spanking, transfiguring reader (not painful/malicious), squirting, noncon breeding, choking on cum

this isn’t real. this isn’t real. this isn’t real.

the statement echoed inside your empty mind. you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the lifeless body splayed inches away from where you were frozen in place. the grotesque lumps that bubbled up across her previously spotless skin made your stomach churn. just minutes ago, just seconds ago, you had been having one of the best nights out with her. you had been taking a shortcut to her place through the maze of alleys that cut through the city, giggling like schoolgirls despite being exhausted after the long night out on the town.

and now she was dead on the filthy ground, barely recognizable.

everything moved in slow motion as your eyes crept up to the human, no, the creature that stood on the other side of the body. it had appeared just seconds before your friend seized up, before her skin swelled and expanded, before she had collapsed, dead within seconds. your heart fell at the sight of its face contorting with a sick imitation of a grin.

“i’ve gotta say, i didn’t really like that one,” it said nonchalantly. its voice was strangely high-pitched, somehow comforting, somehow human. your body finally found its senses when the creature suddenly squatted down to be eye-level with you. its tone dripped with a sweetness that imitated that of a child, like a little boy playing a game that he had already rigged in his favor. your throat threatened to close up as you gasped for air. “wasn’t as much fun as i thought. but you… you’re such a pretty little thing! why don’t you come with me?”

if you hadn’t had cement pumped into your veins, slowly solidifying and barring you from any kind of movement, a blatant expression of incredulousness would have been plastered across your features. your eyes would have widened at the horror of the scene that had unfolded in that cursed alleyway. but you wouldn’t, no, you couldn’t move. not with the thing that murdered your best friend crouching, haunches prickling with the excitement of the hunt. every single neuron fired with the desperation to escape, but your muscles wouldn’t obey a single message sent to them by your stupefied brain.

move… move… move… please.

the creature remained silent, observing your paralysis with an amused smile that sent a creeping shiver down your spine. for the first time since the last breath left your friend’s frame, your eyes took in the details of the monster that faced you. stitches littered its skin, hair long and shaggy as it fell into its face and across its shoulders. its eyes shone with two different tints, two halves of the same sickening whole.

tears spilled down your cheeks as your eyes traveled back down to your poor friend. the thing that now barely resembled her hand reached out to you, still pleading for help even from the afterlife.

no human would do such a thing as this.

as if awaking from a dream, adrenaline finally broke through the cement that had halted all movement in your bloodstream. your feeble mind finally processed the thing’s question, and your head slowly started to shake no. with the influx of the chemical that finally drew your body up to escape, movement blessed your limbs at last, body tilting backwards onto your behind. grit from the ground stuck to your hands, sticking uncomfortably in the webbing between your fingers as you attempted to scurry away from the creature.

the fumbling crab walk didn’t put any sizable distance between you and the monster. rocks jutted from the ground, on which your jerky movements would catch, throwing your whole body off balance. the slippery cement from the light rain that night also didn’t aid in the search for purchase that your heels pursued on the uncooperative ground.

“now, what makes you think you can run away?” it giggled with its eyes fixed on your clumsiness. the smile that spread a little too widely across its face spoke of a sickening amusement that you didn’t want to understand. slow footsteps echoed through the alleyway as it made a slow approach to where you were. it placed its hands in his pockets with an air of complete relaxation (or dare you say, contentment).

your breathing came ragged, seething between your teeth in response to the sharp rocks and tiny fragments of glass that embedded themselves in your hands. the creature inhaled deeply, giving the illusion that it was relying on its sense of smell to follow the trail of fear that was now littered with blood. twisting onto your hands and knees, you attempted to use momentum to catapult your body upright to flee from the creature.

but in the stomach-churning turn of events that you would acknowledge as the moment your life ended, the world tilted as your ankle twisted and you fell back down to your knees on the cement. but the velocity of the fall sent you still careening. a force like a ton of bricks slammed into your chest as your front collided with the wet, sticky ground. a breathless gush of wind rushed into your lungs, and then another, but nothing was of any use to aid you in catching your breath. and without that breath, you couldn’t move. eyes darted every which way, trying to find which direction the creature would come from to kill you, whether it would take you out execution-style from the back, or watch the light die from in front of your defeated frame. ass stuck in the air, you were exposed. humiliated. hunted. doomed.

a high pitched tone reverberated around the alleyway, ringing in your ear like the membranes inside were shattered. just the sound of the creature’s whistle was enough to draw a wince from you. your body further pressed into the ground, wishing to disappear, when it spoke next.

“what a view!”

cheeks burning, skin split open in the desperate search for purchase on the slippery ground, forearms scraped against the cement as you hauled yourself away from the creature. a swirling tempest of hopelessness threatened to weigh down your limbs while your already ragged breathing became even more unstable in the light of an oncoming panic attack. there was no way that you could escape it.

god, you were so fucked. you were gonna end up exactly like your poor friend, disfigured and discarded in a dark alley. stumbling over your own limbs was a given for how uncoordinated you already were, but the lack of oxygen and the panic coursing inside your veins further impeded your range and dexterity of movement.

“oh, don’t cry! i was just trying to have a little fun.”

a little fun?!

this most certainly wasn’t your idea of fun.

a brillIant flash of red exploded across the alley, dazzling before your eyelids. crimson hot blood surged through your veins, searing throughout each vessel that poured liquid courage through the muscles in your body. your fingertips ached to close around its throat. it demonstrated no possession of a soul, no possession of a single ounce of humanity. you desired that it would die, would suffer, more than your friend had. and its face, the fucking grin of accomplishment, the mock disappointment it had displayed when you didn’t try to play into its hands - or were you?

suddenly, you wondered what kind of game the creature was playing. it seemed to kill and destroy without a second thought. and everything it did was with a flitting sense of nonchalance, so was escape really the only way to go about it? or was that exactly what it wanted? were you crawling into the lion’s den?

possibly. of course that could be the case. but your fate wouldn’t be sealed just yet. you wouldn’t let that be the case. adrenaline coursed throughout your body. every nerve seethed to fight, to claw tooth and nail out of the hellish situation that cornered you. for the sake of the corpse that was your friend, you would survive this devastating ordeal.

cars rushed by on the road adjacent to the alley, completely oblivious to whatever was unraveling just feet away. a murder, a gruesome scene that would baffle most authorities, one that would make headlines as one of the most heinous scenes to ever appear on the streets of the city. but you would not be a victim that would morph this into a streak of atrocities.

you didn’t want to turn around, didn’t want to see the cocky grin that was plastered across its face. the sight of the creature that murdered your best friend would only break you down further. and you couldn’t risk anything extinguishing the resolve to survive. vibrations tore through your throat as you attempted to scream at it.

“get away from me, you monster!” but your voice barely came out as a rasp. the grim reminder that your airway was so tight that you could barely muster enough breath to blow out a birthday candle hit you like a truck. before you knew it, the color that had decorated your eyelids and inspired you to survive began to fade into the dull, dim light that barely exposed the dark alleyway that presented the scene of a hunter and its prey. your strength began to fail along with your feeble resolve.

“monster?” the feigned hurt didn’t get past its grin blatantly present in its voice. “i’m no monster.”

with a dull thud, two feet appeared on the ground in front of you, the thing having jumped the entire length of your body (and then some) to overtake even the slightest hope of escape. a searing sensation tore through your scalp as the follicles threatened to tear under the force of the creature tangling its fingers through your hair, ripping you upwards by the head to come face to face with it. you didn’t have the speed to dodge its grasp.

you didn’t want to meet its gaze, but with each direction your head turned, the monster followed with a lazy, playful grin. a mischievous twinkle danced in its mismatched eyes. it was completely out of the question to deign this thing remotely human.

“look into my eyes and tell me that i’m a monster.”

the playful glint darkened to something much more sinister. the change in mood didn’t reach the creature’s voice, however, which still remained in a teasing tone. the range and intensity of the emotions struck a fear into your heart. you needed to get the fuck away.

but as much as your body screamed to run, to move just an inch, nothing would budge. your feet cemented themselves to the ground, cemented your whole body in place, cemented your whole life into the fate that rested in the hands of a senseless murderer.

and a strange feeling suddenly overtook you. in addition to the paralysis from fear, everything began to get very heavy. an overbearing weight and inescapable darkness began to settle upon your mind like a blanket, pouring from the top of your head all the way to your feet as slow as molasses.

the creature watched the whole scene play out, watched as your eyes began to glaze over and blur, watched your face droop with the dumbness of human frailty. your limbs loosened, you swayed side to side.

the thing had asked you a question, but the exact prompt echoed from far away. words wouldn’t form on your tongue. the creature knew he wouldn’t get an answer. it just watched as the darkness swam up from the bottom of your vision.

“you…” there was no point to the fragment. you slipped into unconsciousness before you could utter another syllable.

***

the only discernible thing was the dark. the muffling lack of light was all that you could see as your eyes cracked open blearily. you must’ve blacked out and wandered back to the apartment, and the whole thing with your friend and that monster was all some fucked up dream. hell, it was so realistic that your palms still stung from being run ragged across the cement.

but as you inhaled in a heavy sigh of relief, a pungent smell flooded your nostrils, clogging respiration.

in that exact moment, a shot of adrenaline zapped through every cell in your body. eyesight clarified in a split second, tunnel vision exposing the surrounding area piece by piece. a river of sewage flowing directly in front of you, sickening green crawling along the path set out for it. damp, slippery concrete beneath your body. it had already been soaked up in your clothes and sat uncomfortably against your clammy skin.

and of course, no light illuminated the sewer, save a dim glow from far, far away. far enough that no matter how loud you screamed, no one would hear. a tiny drop of liquid leaking from the gritty walls plopped onto the ground, echoing too loudly for a thing of such small mass.

your limbs wouldn’t budge no matter how much your brain fired the neurons that would elicit their movements. every single squeak, slither, and splash elicited a jerk in a different direction; it was safe to say that no matter where you faced, there was no way that you could escape your eminent demise.

you were fucked.

“help!” you called weakly. but your voice echoed back to you, unanswered. no matter how much the hopelessness of the situation threatened to cage you in, there was nothing in you that wanted to give up. there was still warmth in your body, blood flowing through your veins, and you would fight. fight.

“oh, you’re awake!”

but could you fight that creature?

an icy chill threatened to halt your blood flow at the familiar voice. every hair on your body stood on end, having been made aware of the presence of another. forcing your eyes upward against every nerve that demanded the opposite, you found that the creature was watching you from above. its eyes glinted in the darkness as it straightened up from its lounging in the hammock that didn’t quite fit in with the dingy surroundings.

with a minimal gust of air and a low thud, the creature landed right in front of you. it stood tall, sporting a mischievous grin. its fingers drummed idly on its thighs with the barragement of thoughts of what exactly it could do to you. and from the greedy look in its eyes, you knew that it had a plethora fucked up fantasies in mind and couldn’t decide on just one.

“say… wanna have some fun?”

a frown twisted the muscles of your face at its allusion. whether it was purposeful or the thing was completely unaware of itself, you didn’t know. until the next words came out of its mouth.

“you know, like your friend did?”

the curve of your lips deepened impossibly. in the stillness of those few seconds, before the fiery blood began to cool through your veins, it was as if your heart stopped beating. as if the pressure of the rage in your mind stopped all bodily functions except your thoughts. bringing up the senseless murder of someone you loved so dearly didn’t do anything to help keep your composure. in fact, the only thing it did do was trigger a response of so many chemicals in your brain that you felt like you could’ve taken down an elephant. your palms twitched, itching to close around its throat. to watch the light die from its eyes, just like you watched it die from your friends.

but in reality, as your mind began to settle after you had started breathing again, you knew that you shouldn’t press its limits. that would make it mad and end up with you dead, splayed unceremoniously in a dank sewer. but the more you thought of it, would an untimely demise really be worse than what the creature would actually do to you once it got its hands on you?

“no” was your final answer. the grit under your ruined shoes crunched loudly as you flung yourself upwards to sprint away from the creature. but it was more than prepared for your answer - and it was determined to make you his. in the hubris that the adrenaline entailed, the injury of your ankle made itself known in full force. without the support of two feet, you stumbled, crying out both in pain and fear. the greenish water rose to meet you, the rotten stench in the air wrapping around you - warning you of what was about to soak through your clothes, sink into your skin. your eyes closed, you huddled yourself into a ball to minimize the area exposed to the disgusting sewage.

but two arms wrapped around your frame. you wondered how the creature leaned over and caught you all while maintaining its balance. because even though your eyes had been closed, you were falling for enough time to be out of normal reach. but then again, this thing was a monster after all - and it was anything but normal.

the two arms around the top half of your torso were quickly joined by two more securing themselves around your waist and your legs, respectively. and the structures of muscles and bone were just a façade to keep you still above the sludge. the creature didn’t want you thrashing out of its grasp and into the sewage before its next move.

as soon as your feet were planted firmly on the ground, the bones dissolved, leaving nothing but unhindered muscle to wrap all the way around your body, rendering you completely immobile. no matter how much you struggled, how much you jerked and squirmed within the creatures bounds, there was no escape.

“i don’t take ‘no’ for an answer,” the creature whispered in your ear, hot breath fanning over the sensitive shell. the strange warmth that emanated from its body radiated against your back.

you were paralyzed once again.

the same limbs that had struggled against the monster’s advances just moments ago refused to move as yet another hand began to wander over your body, trailing over the hem of your shirt. you twitched in response to its movements, not wanting to watch it have its way with your body, yet completely transfixed in how its movements were slow, calculated, more mature than its childish persona had previously given off. it picked at the seam just a tad, reminding you of the possibility that it could have its way with you, before relenting in favor of groping you over your clothes.

the creature was losing its patience, you could tell. there you were, completely helpless and unable to defend yourself. it had spent so much time waiting to touch you. it really had. because it wanted you to be awake. it wanted to see how you’d react to what it was capable of.

a deep sigh tickled the skin of your neck when it grasped your tit, kneading the flesh roughly before the nimble fingers pinched your nipple. you winced, watching in horror as another hand trailed down to sneak between your legs. you tried to press them further together, to cave your spine in to protect your core, but it pushed through your defenses with ease. and as it cupped your pussy -

you moaned.

“woah-ho, you like this?” it was taken aback by your reaction, given your previous adamant responses, but it didn’t stop. the hand continued to run over your clothed cunt. “that’s fucked up, honey.”

“let me go,” you whimpered, squirming in the restraints. as much as you wanted to pin the movement solely on finding new positions to avoid the monster’s ministrations, you couldn’t deny those few sweet spots where the friction was extra strong against your clit. your cheeks burned with guilt, with shame, because the same creature that had killed your friend was actually giving you some kind of sick, twisted, pleasure.

the creature giggled. the sound nearly triggered your gag reflex. “see, i don’t wanna do that.”

driven by fear and fear alone, against the voices telling you in your head to stop, to enjoy it while it lasted, you continued to push against the arms that surrounded you, despite finding that the more you struggled against them, the tighter they closed around your frame. it didn’t matter that the force threatened to crush your spine.

“in fact, i wanna see that body of yours.” the creature was right, you were fucked up. because you clenched around nothing at the statement. “gonna put on a show for me or am i gonna have to strip you myself?”

clinging to the last ounce of sanity that you possessed, you gave your answer in the form of jerking a knee up and sending your heel crashing down upon its foot. but the thing didn’t flinch in the slightest. labored breath seethed through you, growing tired in defeat after defeat.

“ow, that smarts!” it whined, despite giving no bodily indication that it was actually in pain. instead, it delivered a rough tweak to your nipple, causing your back to arch against it, which you both knew the other enjoyed. with each second, your resolve crumbled. your humanity threatened to disappear. “but you’ve forced my hand, i guess.”

without hesitation, the thing’s fingers sunk into your shirt in an iron grip and tore it apart. your breasts tumbled out from their precarious position. the sudden exposure to the chilly, rank air drew a squeak from your lips as you struggled against the limbs that he caged you within.

but your efforts were in vain. your clothes fell in shreds around your feet, dampening the second they hit the ground. but your attention was quickly commandeered by the sight of the creature as it came around to face you. and your heart sank so deeply in your chest that your lungs couldn’t expand, you couldn’t breathe, your heart couldn’t beat.

because the extra limbs were sprouting from the beast itself. the thick tentacle-like limbs branched from its torso, right beneath its original pair of arms. they were much longer than humanly possible, giving the indication that they had the same properties of the tentacles that also enclosed you. the creature could take any position in regard to you, whether it be a foot or a mile away, and you would still be captive in its wicked snare.

the despair that seized you now was easily displayed across your face. and as you brought your gaze to the creature’s, it reveled in that woeful look, that delectable sadness that it loved to see. but it didn’t say a word. just gave a terrifying, toothy smile.

simultaneously, the tentacles that encircled your waist and legs doubled in size, trailing up to cover the area of your body that was left bare for a split second when the creature retracted its original limbs. they thickened quickly to combat the spasming of your body in response to the taste of freedom, and subdued you easily.

the creature took a step forward. only just inches away from you now, its two normal hands reached forward towards your tits. your eyes darted between the way its fingers twitched with anticipation to touch you and the insatiable look in its eyes. a sharp breath hissed through your teeth as it tweaked both of your nipples before delivering harsh slaps to your tits. its palms collided flat against the reddening skin of your breasts, but when it relented, it went straight back to pinching the sensitive buds of your nipples.

you writhed in the restraints of the multiplied limbs, strained against the binds that ensnared you, but it was no use. you were trapped. and the creature cycled through its sadistic obsession with your tits over and over, ignoring your whimpers upon the harsh impacts.

you wanted to hate it, you wanted to be fueled by the pain that was inflicted on you, fueled to fight back, to escape - but you couldn’t help but crave the raw, animalistic arousal that it made you feel. it was as if each slap was a blow to your pussy. and with each collision, the more you clenched. the more you leaked.

when the creature had finally devoured its fill of abusing you, it stood back, resting its chin on its fingers. it studied your body, eyes dancing over the handprints on your flesh and your pebbled nipples, with a grin that spoke of more sinister plans.

your heart fell to the floor again, remembering that it had mentioned your friend, who had been horribly disfigured at the creature’s hand. it wanted to have that kind of fun with you? with a forced gulp, you wondered how much pain she had been in. you wondered if you could convince the creature to continue having its way with you like it was now instead of ending your life. that was much more preferable to being completely warped and dying in the worst way possible.

how many days had it been since then? since your life crumbled before your eyes? there was no way to tell, not in the darkness of an underground sewer.

but that hungry look, the gaze of a predator trained on your bare skin, struck a paralyzing fear through your heart.

especially as it took a step forward and addressed you. “let’s see what this wet spot’s about, shall we?”

your eyes followed the creature’s line of sight straight to the crotch of your pants. the limbs fastened you in place while its hand reached out, practically shaking with eagerness to figure out what the damp blotch was.

at first, you thought that maybe you had peed, that maybe out of fear or anything like that, you lost control of your body. maybe it was the damp spot that hadn’t dried from when you were passed out on the floor.

but then, you understood. you understood that with each sadistic game that the creature thought of, you would play long, despite the fact that it was evil incarnate and had killed your best friend.

you were wet because you fucking liked it.

“oh sweetheart, you’re sopping,” the creature giggled, condescension drenching its voice after the hand had undone the mechanics of the clothes and snaked its way under the pants, between your folds, and into the warmth of your cunt.

“fuck you,” you hissed, and spat in his face. the monster only laughed, using one hand to wipe the spit off its face and using the liquid to lube up your nipple as it rolled it between its thumb and forefinger. with the other hand, it flicked your clit meanly. and suddenly, you were like putty once again, resolve having crumbled down the minute that the thing gave you attention. the minute that thing touched you where you didn’t even know you needed to be touched.

“i think you want to!” it joked, removing its hand from your jeans. you didn’t even have time to retort before the limbs that surrounded you elevated your body and angled you so that you were parallel to the ground. struggling was still useless against the seemingly invincible restraints, but you still tried nonetheless. there was still some insatiable urge to fight, no matter how much you wanted to give up and submit to the very thing that you hated the most.

especially when the creature’s hands pulled the drenched denim down your legs despite your screeches of protests, letting it bunch up at your ankles. the restraints moved in accord with how it undressed you and quickly assumed the spaces that it abandoned for those brief moments to let the clothing pass, but it didn’t stop you from kicking and screaming like a banshee.

the shrieks echoed all around the two of you, bouncing around the walls like ping pong balls. the creature, however, disregarded your struggling in favor of humiliating you.

“are you hungry, darling?” it asked, walking to where another limb sprouted from its torso to join the one enveloping your legs. the two extremities together pried your legs apart, allowing it access and a sight it wouldn’t ever forget. “need something to suck on?”

a strange, wet sound emitted from the monster, something that sounded so familiar yet so odd to you. and before you knew it, an impossibly long cock had grown itself from the creature’s gential area. you realized that it had lengthened its cock like it had lengthened its limbs. the vibrations refused to cease from your throat. you refused to give up the hope that someone would come and find you, rescue you from the hell that you found yourself in. but the feral desire to beg the creature to bury its cock in you still sank its claws into your brain.

but your SOS was cut short by the creature shoving its dick in your mouth, effectively muffling your cries.

“like a baby with a pacifier,” the thing cooed, running a finger up and down your bare leg. the touch that strayed further and further up your inner thigh sent shivers down your spine. “oh, you’re so cute.”

its eyes followed where its finger led - directly to your cunt.

“and this pretty pussy too,” it breathed, trailing the finger lightly down the leaking slit. you squirmed at the contact, still attempting to protest verbally despite the cock in your mouth. but you found that the more you attempted to utter, the rougher the dick would force itself in and out of your mouth.

it didn’t say a word, just plunged the finger into your poor pussy. a cry tore from your lungs, the idea of escape from your body squashed by the cock that leaked pre into your irritated throat, by the limbs that completely encircled you, by the finger that didn’t stretch you as much as you needed it to. tears beaded in the corners of your eyes from how deep the tip of its dick went and how often it triggered your gag reflex.

the restraints held you still while the creature cozied up between your legs, watching in fascination while your cunt squeezed and sucked in its finger. it pushed in another one, two-toned eyes flicking up to watch as your face contorted in response to the extra stretch.

the monster’s fingers curled up in the most natural of ways, strangely. fingertips brushed against your g-spot with ease, despite it being the first encounter between the two of you. as much as you wanted to resist, the way in which your cunt gushed around his digits had your resolve slipping away from you. your humanity was barely hanging on by a thread. shrieks that cried for help were now punctuated, invaded by strained, pleasured moans.

the feeling was augmented as soon as its thumb joined the mix, rubbing slow, sensuous circles around your clit. the screeches of resistance soon melted completely into moans of bliss as you began to suck on the cock that violated your mouth.

the way in which you surrendered had the creature giggling with glee as it twisted its wrist deftly, hitting sweet spots in your spongy walls that you never knew existed. your spite unraveled as quickly as the coil in your gut as the thing’s fingers were sucked in further by your cunt.

and you, you just gave up. you allowed yourself to slip into the bliss of a climax, cumming and creaming all over the creature’s fingers like you were lovers. despite being anything but that, it still stimulated your body more so than any other person had.

the thing gave you a little slack in restraints, allowing you to buck your hips on its hand like a bitch in heat. your cheeks flamed with embarrassment, in self hatred at how you’d completely unraveled into a greedy slut. you didn’t even bother to dedicate some of the movements to escape because all you wanted was more.

more of that monster.

“you take me so well,” the thing purred, extracting its fingers so that it could loudly suck your juices off of them. you gazed at it through lidded eyes, jaw sore from having the cock in it for so long. it left the spot between your legs to stand at your head, allowing it to speak to you directly.

putting a hand on your hair, it addressed you. “and don’t worry, we’re just getting started.”

you didn’t say anything, just peered down at where the long extremity sprouted from his pants. it still baffled you how the member was now lodged in your mouth. you didn’t even know how it was possible, but the creature was straight from the pits of hell, after all. it was a demon that would fuck you senseless.

the monster followed your line of sight, and with a pop, pulled its cock out of your mouth. a refreshing breath soared throughout your body, the stench of the sewer drenching every ounce of your senses. but that one inhale kept you grounded, kept you alive.

“thanks for getting my dick wet, sweetheart,” the thing smiled, shining cockhead waving tauntingly at you. beads of saliva dripped down from the head, splattering onto the damp ground. you watched, mesmerized, as the veins that spread under the blue tinted skin pulsed rhythmically. the monster laughed at you. “you want it?”

“yes.” the word fell from your mouth before you could stop it. god, you were fucked. obviously, physically, given the fact that you were stripped down naked, bound, in the presence of a creature that had proven to be the most menacing thing you’d ever encountered. but once again, you proved its point that you were messed up in the head. you were begging the same thing that slaughtered your best friend to fuck you. you tried not to picture her face.

the thing had broken you down into nothing using your sexual desires. what a wicked manipulation. what an evil thing.

and you fucking loved it.

“so obedient for me now,” the thing marveled, walking back around your body to snake between your legs. its cock shrunk down to a more human, more manageable size. and the whole scene itself looked normal - excluding the long limbs that held you level with the creature’s waist above the dank, slippery cement. “i really didn’t want to keep punishing you.”

the head of its cock pressed against your entrance and you let out a whimper, needing it to push in, needing to get fucked like you never had been before. it crossed your mind that maybe the thing had drugged you, had tricked you into believing that you actually felt this way. but thinking like that was too complicated, too hard when all you had to do was beg for its dick like the needy slut you were.

“‘m yours,” you whimpered, attempting to appeal to the thing’s good side, trying to persuade it to show mercy on your poor, weak, human body and just fuck you. a wicked grin immediately adorned the creature’s face as it grasped your thighs and leaned over you. your abdomens brushed together uncomfortably with grime and humidity from the air sticking to each other’s skin.

the dim light from further into the tunnel glinted against the white enamel peeking through its lips. you could feel the blood pounding uncomfortably through your veins at the points of constriction where the limbs coiled around your body. the creature’s eerily long tongue darted out across its lips hungrily.

“what’s that?” it asked, blinking its eyes slowly, feigning dumbness.

“i’m yours,” you repeated, knowing that it had heard you the first time but wanted confirmation and the sick validation that it had broken you, because it did. you were completely pliant in its arms, ready to bend any which way for its pleasure. the monster laughed at your desperate reiteration.

“wow, you’re really fucked in the head.” your cheeks burned in shame, but it continued, soaking in all those negative emotions that you emitted at its hands. “you know what i think? i think this is the beginning of a great friendship.”

the scene was plain comical, how your legs were wide open, how it was centered and ready to fuck you, how you were bound in place completely at its mercy. how it was screwing with your mind second by second and breaking down your walls bit by bit until you knew that you were nothing to it save a collection of holes. and yet, there he was, going on about new friendships.

“i didn’t particularly find your friend interesting, and i didn’t have room for two down here.” it didn’t even bother to apologize for what it had done. and if there was a worse time for someone to examine their nails superfluously, this would surely be it. the creature’s voice rang in your ears, but you couldn’t process it while you watched it pick at the skin of its thumb. you didn’t want to hear about your dead friend when all you wanted was to get fucked by her murderer. “but you, i think i like you.”

it paused slightly to peer down at your facial expression. you only scowled, fighting the heat that rose underneath the skin of your cheeks. “and if we’re gonna be friends,” it shrugged and continued, “let’s introduce ourselves. i’m mahito.”

it was the strangest feeling, how a name seemed to humanize the thing that looked like a person yet did not have a single quality of one. but now that it was cataloged, classified in your brain, the whole situation was only slightly lightened. either way, you were ready to see what the thing was capable of, so you tried to speed the diplomacies along.

“i’m y/n-”

the full introduction was cut short by mahito plunging his cock all the way into your cunt. it was amply lubricated, both by your sucking him off and his fingers burying themselves in your cunt earlier. the speed that he immediately set was quick, hips slamming into yours without much time to warm up. you were catapulted into another dimension, merely along for the ride while the monster set the pace.

“oh fuck,” you groaned, “that feels so good!”

you couldn’t keep your mouth shut. and that’s not to say that you were babbling on and on about how he felt, but your jaw itself wouldn’t shut. it hung open dumbly, no doubt leaving you open for some kind of sick and twisted trick that the thing would inevitably pull. your skin crawled with a massive influx of heat that came along with the stimulation of him being inside you.

“it does?” mahito cooed, reaching to play with your tits. “‘m glad.”

his hands wandered all over your body like you were his own property. he tweaked your nipples, groped your ass, squeezed your thighs, like he was a lover. and his cock - the thing pulsated within you so perfectly, brushed up against your g-spot expertly, that it left you begging like you were hopelessly addicted. because you were.

“more,” you panted, tongue sliding out to catch the drops of drool that slipped down from the corners of your mouth. craning your neck upwards, your eyes met mahito’s as a mischievous glimmer twinkled within the two-toned depths.

“more?” he seemed incredulous, but didn’t slow down his pace. “honey, you don’t know what you’re asking.”

sure, you had no idea of the monster’s true ability, but you sure as hell needed it. what he was giving you didn’t feel like nearly enough, and you knew that he was capable of things that your feeble mind didn’t understand. and it felt so fucking good, how his balls slapped against your ass, how his girth dragged against your walls in a way that it sparked an impossible amount of lust within you.

“moremoremore,” you chanted like a prayer, eyes rolling back into your head as mahito shifted the angle of penetration slightly, hitting your sweet spot more deftly. a feeble whimper managed to escape from your lips, eyes fixed on how the creature’s brows twitched. he didn’t want to show that he was actually enjoying it, but his expressions gave him away easily. how could he say no to such a weak human that was just begging to be toyed with?

“well, it’s your funeral,” he shrugged, gripping your hips. whether it was to anchor you in place or grant him some stability, you weren’t really sure, but you didn’t care. the restraints that already contained you tightened around your limbs, as if preparing to hold you tighter in case you attempted to wiggle out of them in response to what he was about to do.

the dick sheathed in you pulsated rapidly, and, to both your horror and pleasure, began to expand in girth. it easily stretched you to almost two times what your pussy was taking at that moment, leaving you a mess with how wonderful it felt as the initial sting of pain melted into a blissful, warm pleasure. your cunt gushed in response, both elevating the pleasure and coating the extra areas of his cock to ease his movements.

as soon as he was done growing himself, he thrusted into you, harder. the increase in size worked wonders for your body, seeing as you were cast into the rough waves of an approaching orgasm in no time. your eyes rolled back into your head. you were completely powerless to stop the onslaught.

“say, you wouldn’t mind taking it from the back, would ya?”

the blatant nonchalance in his tone was lost on your ears. a hazy fog had moved into your brain, bedding down to smother any kind of thought that formed. all that remained in your feeble little brain was the desire for more… more… more…

“please.” a pathetic whimper oozed from your lungs, quickly cut short by an equally pathetic moan that emitted from you upon mahito slamming his hips into yours in a joyful glee.

“aw you asked so nicely!” he crooned, praise showering your convulsing body. “but gimme a minute, i wanna feel how you cum on my cock.”

the prospect enough sent dribbles of drool running down your cheeks. those little streams were corked effectively by mahito sticking yet another manifested dick in your mouth. but this time, you didn’t offer up any resistance. in fact, as numerous hands surrounded you, pinching and tweaking at every inch of your skin, your body reacted in quite the opposite way.

what felt like a thousand stars burst inside of you surged through every nerve, every nook in your body. your cells screamed with the stimulation, with the climax of what could’ve easily been the best orgasm of your life. mahito released a satisfied groan at how your cunt began to contract around his cock. he egged you on, thumb rubbing vigorous circles on your clit.

“lemme hear those sounds,” he grinned, removing the cock from your mouth. with the barrier gone, spittle and sweet moans flew from your lips, echoing all around the sewer tunnel. the warmth of the climax spread all the way from the crown of your head, to the tips of your fingers, to the ends of your toes.

time dragged on, yet shot past you as the waves crashed and crashed against your body in tandem with mahito’s hips. he didn’t even seem close to cumming. in fact, aside from the few twitches and squeezes, he didn’t give the sense that he was aroused at all, unless he just got off on seeing you so powerless in front of him. which you didn’t doubt at all.

“i’m gonna keep you around for a while,” the monster marveled at how your cunt dripped onto the floor upon the removal of his cock. the puddle appeared luminescent in the dim light. “now let’s see about that ass.”

without a moment to spare, the world whirled on its axis. your chest collided with the floor, knocking the wind right out of your lungs. back arched uncomfortably deep, your ass stuck up in the air. the vulnerability made you shiver. lucidity crept back into your mind, the possibility of regaining your resolve to escape creeping back into your mind, but the limbs that fastened you to the damp stone kept you from struggling and effectively squashed those thoughts, leaving you a dripping mess ready for more.

“shit,” mahito cursed at the sight of your ass. he didn’t hesitate to spit on the tight ring of muscle exposed just for him, trailing a finger around the puckered skin. the contact sent a shiver through you, one that seemed way too eager to match the fight-or-flight chemical coursing within your veins.

a finger slipping into the tight hole earned a sharp inhale. the strange stretching sensation only endured for a few more seconds before dissolving into an intriguing pleasure.

“gotta get you ready,” mahito muttered, pumping his finger in and out of your asshole with an increasing speed.

the relentlessness of his pace easily became too much for you, unaccustomed as you were to the odd feeling, to how insanely good it felt. tugging against the limbs that held you down was the only natural response, no matter how futile it was.

“are you still struggling?” mahito tsked. “let’s get your pacy again.” it was like stuffing a bottle in a baby’s mouth to shut it up, the way that the cock was shoved in yours. “ah, that’s better. think you’re good to go.”

without warning you, without asking for permission, mahito’s cock slid into the puckered hole. your entire body shuddered at the contact, no sounds echoing from your lungs despite the way your jaw ached from the wide stretch of your mouth in response to the penetration. but the size of his cock was nothing compared to what had been stuffing your pussy just minutes before. it was still such an addicting feeling.

after a few testing thrusts, you needed more. the curse must have been using some kind of magic on you that clouded your thoughts to make you form an unhealthy attachment to him. as much as you wanted to believe it, you knew that wasn’t true. what mahito had said earlier was right: you were fucked in the head.

maybe that’s why you wiggled your ass against his cock.

“more?” the smile was painfully evident in his voice despite not being able to see him. as much as your cheeks burned with shame, you nodded in response. a breathy laugh emanated from the creature’s mouth.

“okay let’s make it a game, then. i’ll show you my tricks and we’ll see how much you can take. let’s call it… size matters.”

your blood ran cold. a certain dread seized you, a sense of regret intertwined within it. if mahito could grow his cock, who’s to say if there was anything stopping him from quite literally tearing you open.

“aw, scared?” mahito noticed your lack of enthusiasm, how you stilled your hips in the wake of the uninformed decision. “you should be.”

without waiting for the physical reaction to his menacing statement, the cock in your ass swelled in girth. your eyes nearly bulged out of your head at how just the simple increase in width threatened to stretch you to your limits.

mahito’s pace staggered, rhythms changing sporadically to throw off your assimilation whenever you had finally gotten used to the feeling. the game was eerily similar to a cat toying with a mouse, and everyone knew how that game ended.

“you’re doing so well!” he praised, squeezing a cheek within his huge hand. you only squeaked in response. the sound was easily muffled by the cock in your mouth. “i wanna see how that cunt feels now that your ass is full.”

as was his usual, the monster didn’t give you a moment to prepare. he sheathed his entire length in your pussy without a second thought. a breath seethed from between his teeth.

what you felt, however, was on a different plane. the only way you could describe it was an overly satisfying fullness; one that was so complete, it was overwhelming. your muscles clenched around both of his cocks, attempting to suck them deeper into your warmth.

“hoooly shit that’s nice,” mahito breathed. his hands massaged your asscheeks as he kept his hips still for just a few more moments. “let’s see what you can do with this now, hm?”

without warning, the already overpowering fullness swelled to an impossibly large size. he was growing both of his dicks. both of them were already sizable enough in the tight holes - the creature was fucking relentless.

“now i’ll do the one in your mouth.”

what kind of monster was he? it was the only thought that coasted through your mind as your jaw screamed with the stretch of his growing cock in your maw. drool cascaded down the corners of your mouth, mixing with the tears that you didn’t know had fallen.

with every blink, time seemed to jump forward an unknown amount of seconds. each pass through blackness brought a new sensation. a different area of your body manipulated by a different hand.

first, your tits. fingers fondled and pinched your nipples, groped and grasped at the plush curve of your breasts.

then, your neck. despite the growing cock that had already threatened to cut off your air supply, a hand still wrapped around your throat to mark you as the creature’s property.

but the hand that toyed with your clit, one of mahito’s originals (if that was even a way to describe the hand that was already attached to his body), flicked and rubbed at the throbbing bud. he teased and stimulated you recklessly, not caring that your nerves were on the verge of giving out.

the sensations were overwhelming, the way his cocks nearly doubled in size in your tight holes. the veins that spindled on the shafts of each brushed to the other through your velvet walls, creating a mock sense of ribbing that drove you up the wall.

and his other ministrations further crashed over you, sending you into a fucked out haze of bliss, of surrender, of a helplessness that you wouldn’t dare to dwell on because it earned you so much pleasure. so much that you were screeching over his cock, over the way the sharp jabs of overstimulated and overwhelming pain that randomly jolted from either your clit or other parts of your body softened and melted into a warm pool of ecstasy.

but in the attempt to scream, yell, anything, you expelled all your breath. and with the size of mahito’s cock now nearly blocking your air passages, it didn’t look like you were going to get the chance to inhale again. bucking against the restraints, you tried desperately to get the monster’s attention.

he noticed, and almost immediately gave you reprieve, which in all honestly surprised you. “alright, sweetheart, let’s give you some time to breathe.”

the throbbing cock dripped with your saliva upon pulling out. a cool, fresh breath of air flowed into your lungs, seeming to steady your heart minimally. mahito kept his pace, rocking into you without a second thought. his cock swayed tauntingly in front of you for when he was no doubt going to shove it in your mouth again.

it was embarrassing, the sounds that mahito’s thrusts elicited from you. guttural groans so deep and rich that they echoed all around the tunnel, screeches so high pitched and shrill that they made your ears ring. your vocal chords were nearly torn to shreds, but no matter how you tried to stop yourself, it was no use.

“such pretty sounds,” the monster praised, squeezing your ass to emphasize his point. and at that point, you gave up on trying to stop yourself, and abandoned any sense of self. the cacophony of lewd tones sounded all around you.

mahito’s pace was maddening. the cocks would move in different speeds, alternating directions, changing their movements before you would get accustomed to it. it was simply insane, mind-blowing, the feeling of the two shafts brushing against each other from behind the muscle that separated them. you never thought you’d feel so full, but you wouldn’t put it past the sadistic beast to blow away your expectations while he continued his game.

“i could fuck you forever, sweetheart.” you vaguely heard the creature while your eyes rolled back into your head in response to the heavenly feeling from such a demonic creature. your toes had just begun to curl again before he stuck his cock in your open mouth.

the restraints that held you began to loosen at your lack of resistance. you guessed that he didn’t want to take out his new plaything too early because of a mishap with halting blood circulation. but you didn’t move a muscle, no - not with the ecstasy that overshadowed you.

“taking me so well, let’s see if you can keep up with me.”

the hallmark pulsing of his cocks echoed like a shout through a cave in your cunt. it muffled your pitiful moan at the sensation that threatened to overwhelm you. the pain of the stretch continued as mahito, to your horror, didn’t stop growing. the tight rings around your holes threatened to tear before he finally stopped.

and with a heaving sigh, the overwhelming sensation of an orgasm seized you. you gasped in surprise, a quick breath that was quickly cut short by a titillating moan. you hadn’t even realized that you’d been remotely close. the fear of bleeding around the monster’s dicks had been your only focus. and it still was, seeing as your muscles clenched around the huge members, shrinking the already small space. you wished, you prayed to whatever being was above that the enjoyment of your climax wouldn’t be cut short by the tearing of flesh. and mahito loved the feeling of you milking him, as you expected.

his cock in your mouth had also continued to grow, popping the tendons slightly, but stopped just before dislocating your jaw. but it was so large and so far down your throat that there wasn’t any air traveling through your system. it was a miracle that you weren’t spewing the empty contents of your stomach all around.

it was mind boggling, the collision of the oxygen-deprived light-headedness with the orgasm that tore through your body like a hurricane. a pure bliss settled over you, and you ignored the darkness creeping up from the bottom of your vision.

everything felt light, everything was light. it didn’t matter that you were going to meet your end at the hands of the beast that was fucking you the best you’d ever have in your life. her deformed face flashed before you, but the grotesque images unfortunately weren’t able to diminish the euphoric feeling that her murderer was bestowing upon you.

just before you lost consciousness, mahito plucked out his cock. you gasped, the air inflating your lungs just moments after they were on the verge of collapse.

“more!” you begged. the desperate plea rang out, echoed off the bricks of the tunnel. mahito’s laugh followed soon thereafter, a clear peal that threatened to dispel the darkness pressing in all around you.

“more?” he seemed incredulous, but something in his tone indicated that he was amused to see you so drunk on his cock. and he was used to it by now. he loved having such a helpless human wrapped around his fingers. “whatever you say. i’ll add something a little extra for you, you little fucked out slut.”

the throbbing indicated that he was morphing, but your holes didn’t scream with the stretch that usually assaulted them in tandem with that sensation. after a split second, they did, but only briefly.

then it happened again. his cocks seemed to grow an inch as they slid in and out of your cunt, only to return to his previous size. why he teased you like that, you had no idea. until you realized that he had ribbed his own cocks.

with that epiphany, you were cumming in no time. the way the grooves massaged your walls between your ass and your cunt was otherworldly. you couldn’t control yourself.

you came hard, the hardest so far, clamping down on his cocks with a force that nearly sent the monster over his own edge. and he loved it, was addicted to your tight little pussy and your pathetic little sounds that tore themselves from your ruined throat.

“so fuckin’ tight,” he seethed between his teeth, obviously fighting to keep his composure. but his pace never faltered.

his cock pressed through your lips once more, and you took it like your life depended on it. you couldn’t determine if trying to please him in that way would actually spare you, seeing as mahito was perfectly content with abusing your cunt.

the poor muscle was aching, screaming with the stretches and the size of the monster within it. but the pain brought something different to your experience, something that was left unnamed in your mind. being tied down, ass up, at the creature’s disposal got you wetter than you had ever been.

you were on the verge of another orgasm before you could blink. or maybe you had already came. or maybe you blacked out. in any case, the fucked out haze that had settled on your brain warped your mind so terribly that you didn’t even now what day it was. you could barely remember your own name.

“let’s see how pretty you look with my cum leaking out of you, hm?”

you were in such a daze that you needed a few moments to register the twitching of the cocks inside of you that indicated mahito’s proximity to his orgasm. to give you the chance to answer, he took his cock out of your mouth.

“no.” it was barely a whisper, barely an utterance of protest that didn’t convey anywhere near the desperation behind it.

you didn’t want a monster’s cum inside you. what would that mean for your body? would you become pregnant with some weird hybrid creature? it was not something that you wanted to stick around for.

but you already knew that mahito wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“no? well that’s just too bad,” he teased. his palms met the skin of your ass in sharp stings. you squirmed against the restraints that had once again tightened around your beaten frame. they had obviously braced for your reaction to the creature’s plans and his spanking. and after he was done, after the skin was hot and irritated, he pinched it.

“no, no,” you whined, jerking against his mean movements, “please don’t.”

whether it was to stop the monster from abusing the sensitive skin or pumping you full of its seed, you didn’t know. but the tone was there, drenching your pitiful voice that was easily drowned out by the sounds of skin on skin, of wetness sliding over wetness, of hands colliding with muscle.

as if to shut you up, he shoved the cock back in your mouth. and to further torture your ruined body, he thrust harder and harder until you thought his cocks were ramming directly into your brain.

over and over again, relentlessly undulating in the screaming muscles, he plunged deeper and deeper still. the texture that he had added to the members was infuriatingly pleasurable, maddeningly gratifying.

you wanted to say no, wanted to deny him the satisfaction of breaking you, but the opposition one was expected to have in the moment was nowhere to be found. he had already won. he had you exposed to him, perfectly supple and ready for the taking.

if anything, the cries directed at him were only projections of the need to cling to normalcy, to sanity. but they didn’t work. they only emphasized your fall.

mahito pounded and pounded into you, cocks seeming to grow and twitch with every thrust. the validity of assuming he had manipulated his size without warning was unfounded. maybe the pressure that had started to build in your core was creating the illusion.

tears streamed down your cheeks at the underlying twinges of pain that had started to become more frequent, at the way the copulation had become more painful than pleasurable. you didn’t think that the monster would particularly care, but his pace slowed slightly when he heard you sniffling.

“aw, do i need to help you out a bit?” he sounded almost caring, almost as if he had the capacity to sympathize with someone’s suffering. despite your intuition on how he would react, you nodded.

and the strangest feeling enveloped you.

it was violating, the sensation of someone reaching within the core of your very being. it was as if he held your heart directly in his hands, like he could pull the strings like a puppet master and make you his marionette. a warmth enveloped you, one different from the feeling of an orgasm; it was comforting, almost, and muddled your brain in a way that made your eyes cross.

but that was before you felt yourself get tighter.

you wanted to fight back against what he was doing, but despite the more compact feeling around the huge cocks in your holes, it didn’t hurt. in fact, it felt better. whatever the creature did to your body made the experience infinitely more pleasurable for the both of you. it was odd, how he displayed a sign of humanity in the most peculiar moment.

“‘m gonna cum, are you?”

you wondered how his voice was so composed when you were a drooling mess barely able to take him in his size. each snap of his hips threatened to split you open beyond recognition, but it felt so fucking good that you didn’t care. all you wanted was more. so you nodded, feeling the edges of the ball of energy begin to fray in anticipation of bursting completely.

the added pressure of your shrunken holes and the enormous dicks within them led to a new feeling that you had never experienced. one that was so alien yet serendipitous that you barely registered the fact that there was liquid gushing out of your cunt, splattering loudly on the concrete beneath your body. it dripped down the backs of your legs, drawing wet slaps from the contact of mahito’s hips against yours.

and your orgasm exploded. the monster let out a guttural groan before he came in quick succession. everything tightened around you - the grips on your hips, the restraints keeping you in place - every muscle in your body contracted with the force of the climax. but what you weren’t expecting was the sheer amount of cum that he shot inside of you.

it was so warm, the feeling of the climax combined with the fullness. his thrusts were slowed by the viscosity, but that didn’t deter him from continuing to rut into you like an animal in heat. your cries were silenced by the cock shoved mercilessly in your mouth, and the sheer amount of cum it spilled sent a shiver down your spine.

after barely a second of attempting to swallow it down, you found that the creature kept cumming. more and more of it shot into you, dripping out of your twitching holes, down your throat. and you tried to keep up, you really did, but it was too much.

you struggled and struggled against the restraints, trying to wiggle your way out and escape the liquid that attempted to drown you. but your body was too weak, too disoriented by the earth-shattering orgasms that you were rendered immobile. the creature merely laughed at your helplessness, continuing to thrust into you like it was nothing.

you coughed and sputtered around his cock, but he didn’t take it out. breaths came in short, shallow gasps, cum clogging every hole in your body. tears spilled down your cheeks as your limbs twitched, desperate for any semblance of a source of oxygen. but it never came.

you panicked, bucking frantically, crying and gurgling through the obstruction in your lips, but it was no use. mahito didn’t let up.

the warm feeling continued to radiate through your bloodstream, the bliss of your orgasm continuing to roll through your body despite the frenzied attempts to free yourself and get just one breath of fresh air to save your body.

you became weaker. with every second, your limbs moved a little slower, eyes closed a little longer. the feeble efforts came fewer and farther between, until they eventually stopped altogether.

the darkness claimed you. the monster still pumped in and out of you, using you to its heart’s content. but somehow, in your little fucked up mind, you didn’t mind it one bit. a smile curved the corners of your lips as you accepted your fate as a curse’s fucktoy. it was absurd to think that at the beginning of the escapade, you preferred death to whatever plan the creature had. but now, your sick little mind was coming up with ideas of its own to play out within the dreams of your subconscious.

© all work belongs to poursomesunaonme. do not copy and repost.

#tw noncon #tw dubcon #tw monsterfucking #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #mahito #jujutsu kaisen mahito #jjk mahito #mahito smut #mahito x reader #mahito x you #mahito x y/n #🪐beanie writes!

[dollfacedoe]

sorry I've been dead yall my sex drive took a hit bc of my antidepressants 💔

and they were roommates 🙄🙄

ajax/childe/tartaglia x reader smut

why does this fucker have so many names

deep down inside the depths of your mind was a repressed side of yourself.

you've never been able to tell anyone, not even your closest friends about it.

the unsatiable feeling in your cunt practically rendered you a poor, desperate slut. but you couldn't tell anyone about it.

trying to satiate it with toys and fingers only worked for a while, but it always comes back at full force.

in the shower, public bathrooms, your bedroom, hell even your own desk became a place to relieve yourself. you led the life of a nymphomaniac, keeping that part of yourself locked away.

games of truth or dare would never let hear that secret, but under intoxication was a different story.

it was late when you were high off pot, on the phone with a few friends playing games and messing around. the damp feeling between your legs felt uncomfortable.

you spent the day teasing yourself, letting your fingers slip between your folds and feeling the growing slick on your fingers. the high made you more sensitive to touch.

it was around midnight when you couldn't take it anymore.

"awww, can't you stay on a bit longer?"

"sorry, im pretty tired. I gotta shower and go to bed."

"alright then, I'll see you later."

quickly saying goodbye to your friends, you could feel the excitement bubble up in your stomach.

your roommate is a guy named ajax. hes really nice and cute, joining you in your sessions and laughing at stupid things together. at one point, he sloppily kissed you when you were both intoxicated, and you almost had sex, until he passed out on your bed.

you haven't talked about it since then, both of you too nervous to address the growing tensions.

he was in his room when you slipped into the bathroom with your favorite toy and your phone.

the feeling of the dildo sliding into your walls was overwhelming, but it sent shocks through your system all the way down to your toes.

the water hitting the floor and the music from your phone covered the squelching noises coming from your pussy and the heavy breaths coming from your mouth.

tears gathered at the corner of your eye and slid down.

it wasn't until ajax knocked on the door of the bathroom to ask what was wrong.

"hey, are you alright in there? the showers been on for 30 minutes."

"s-sorry! I just..uh-"

"its fine. just let me know when you come out."

you quickly turn off the water and dry yourself off, before grabbing your things and leaving. however, you did forget your pair of underwear.

you scurried out of the bathroom and into your room before ajax could come out. you place the dirty clothes in the hamper before returning back to your session.

ajax walked into the bathroom and started undressing before his eyes landed on something on the floor. they widened when he realized they were panties, cute lacy, and frilly ones.

his cock twitched in his boxers that were still on his body. he could feel himself getting more excited at the thought of you wearing them.

looking at the damp spot right where your pussy it, he lifted it to his nose and took a breath. it was dirty, but fuck you smelt so good.

it was still so wet, and he realized you must've been masturbating in the bathroom.

he could feel his cock pulse with blood and get uncomfortably tight. he decided to go back to his room, which was right next to yours, and listen to you.

the walls were thin, so he could hear your heavy breaths and whines though the brittle drywall. if he really tried to listen he could almost hear the gushing noises of your cunt.

it went on like this for weeks. every night, he would settle in his bed and listen to you moan and desperately try and keep yourself quiet to keep your roommate in mind. he was surprised to learn you did it multiple times a day.

he would hear your breath stagger when he saw you at your desk and your arm awkwardly moving, something he didn't notice until now.

your hidden nature of being completely addicted was his masturbation material for weeks.

you never noticed that you were missing any underwear to his surprise, merely just grabbing a pair after a shower.

he came home from the gym, and heard his name being called from your room.

to his surprise, you were sitting on your back, toy sliding into your hole leaving foamy strings of cum. the small little whimpers and sighs drove him mad.

you didn't notice him peeking through the door crack, too engulfed in the pleasure shooting through your veins. the drool coming out of your mouth, tears slipping from the corner of your mouth, and the cum that flowed down made his mouth water.

his name was uttered out of your mouth again when his self control crumbled. he opened the door and you immediately stopped your pace and looked up at him.

your big, wide doe eyes and red, embarrassed face only made him hornier.

"h-hey! a-ajax! what are you doing here??"

he grabbed your wrist of the hand still holding the toy.

"you've been teasing me this whole time with your moaning through the walls. were you trying to tempt me?"

"i-im sorry, I was trying to stay quiet.."

"shut up you stupid whore, there's no need to hide the fact that you really are just a slut."

you felt trapped under his gaze when his hand took the silicone cock from your hands.

"you've never felt what a real one feels like, have you?"

you shook your head.

"well, your all nice and loose for me to slide into. why don't you just lie down and be a good doll for me?"

he pulled his pants down to reveal his length, it was fat with prominent veins, and looked like it was gonna split you in half.

"hmm, maybe you won't be that loose, girly. after all that stupid toy you have is nothing."

he kneeled down and licked a quick stripe up your cunt, getting your creamy cum on his tongue. you bite your lip, but he delivers a quick smack to your thigh. your poor cunt clenched around nothing while your clit ached for attention.

"don't do that, i want to hear you cry out for me."

he lines up the head of his cock with the hole of your pussy, before letting it sink inside. he stretched you out and gritted his teeth. it was a tight fit, but it soon relaxed after getting filled up again. it was so warm and wet inside, gripping his cock so nicely and snug.

his tip hit the opening of your womb, almost threatening to get inside.

"a-ah- wait, ngh-"

as soon as his felt the skin of his balls touch right below your pussy, he groaned.

you were already sensitive, cumming around his cock as soon as it reached the deepest it could. your gummy walls clenched around him, sending shivers down ajax's spine.

not even waiting for you to adjust, he immediately starts a rough and brutal pace. the untamed hair at the base of his cock tickled your clit while his cock hit every spot inside. no parts of your body was protected from his assault. he put your legs over his shoulders, digging his fingers in your hips.

"haahh, fuck..your pussy feels so good.."

your legs were starting to tremble. he pulled out briefly before putting you on his lap.

"n-no..im tired ajax.."

"who said you were gonna do the work?"

he lifted your hips and placed you down on his cock. basically using your body as his personal toy to dump his load into. his hands reached down to your ass, lifting you up and down on his length. your moans and squeals were right against his ear. he bit into your shoulder and groaned in your ear.

"ngh, do you like being used like this? your such a stupid little thing. c'mon give me another."

he laughs in your ear while you babble and sob in his neck. you felt like a never-ending orgasm was ripping through your body constantly, and you could feel something building in your stomach.

"haah, im gonna cum inside..is that what you want?"

you couldn't answer in words, merely crying in his ear. as soon as his finger started rubbing your clit as fast as he could, you felt a giant wave crash over you and leave electric shocks in your stomach.

as soon as ajax could see your pussy squirt he plunged his cock all the way in a came inside. the feeling of getting filled was weird, it was warm and it was so much.

he pulled his cock out before watching the cum spill out from your hole. he could feel his cock harden when you twitched from his light touches against your clit. there was your cum all over his thighs and stomach.

he let his overstimulated cock find its way back between your puffy folds, you whimper.

it was going to be a while.

bruh im sorry I've been gone for so long 💀💀 I've been busy n shit and I didnt have much motivation. I'm ngl this blog is really one of my last priorities but I'll try to keep it updated and NOT take 4 month breaks. I'm sorry for the wait <3

#tartagalia x reader #childe x reader #ajax x reader #genshin x reader #genshin smut #tartaglia smut #genshin x reader smut #childe smut #genshin impact x reader

[inkykeiji]

you be the match, i will be your fuse

fluffy anon said: dabi coming home after an absolutely horrid day at work and just needing to be absolutely BABIED by reader (i’m talking cuddling in bed, taking a bath with him and washing his hair then getting out just rubbing his back as he sleeps with his head on your chest)

genre: angst + fluff, laced with just a hint of smut (like two sentences)

notes: aaaah happy birthday dabi!!! this has absolutely nothing to do with your birthday but eeee ily | title cred: sure thing by miguel

warnings: 18+, implied/mentioned death of a child, one instance of implied past physical abuse, self-destructive behaviour + coping mechanisms, co-dependent toxic relationship

words: 3.5k

It’s thundering the day it happens, ferocious growls that rumble through your apartment—a tiny, quaint space you share with Dabi, full of faulty appliances and cracked linoleum—rolling, fluffy grey clouds blanketing the entire sky, swollen with restrained rain droplets as a storm brews within them. Little fingers idly toy with the yellowed pages of your worn pulp fiction novel, flipping through them and bending corners as your eyes search the angry sky, chewing on your cheek.

Dabi should’ve been home by now. It’s not like him to be late without calling, without letting his babygirl know what’s going on—he knows the way you worry, the way you overthink yourself into a frenzy, the way you’re so clingy and needy, teases you about it incessantly and tells you he thinks it’s cute—and a deep sense of dread takes root in the pit of your stomach, dark and bitter and unfurling, quickly spreading throughout the cavity of your chest.

His phone must be off—no, it’s never off, he doesn’t do that anymore, not since you stumbled into his life—his phone must be dead, your repeated calls growing increasingly frequent and urgent every time you’re greeted with the drone of his automatic voicemail.

Something’s wrong, horribly so.

It’s evident the moment he arrives home, scratched brass doorknob slamming against the wall, deepening the crater its left from past incidents of a similar manner.

It infects the air around him, hanging heavy and thick, its dense presence nearly suffocating. His shoulders slump under the pressure, the weight of whatever he’s carrying practically crushing, as he drags his crimson splattered boots through the front door, soles scraping against the cheap hardwood, bringing the putrid scent of charred flesh with him—his or someone else’s, you don’t know.

You swear you can almost see it, this—this thing, this aura, enveloping him in its haughty embrace as his chest heaves under a deep, controlled breath, pausing in the foyer as the door shuts behind him.

Bare feet pad against the floor, your legs moving without your explicit permission, drawn towards him in an almost instinctual manner, the desire to care for, to comfort, burning as it bubbles up in your chest, mixing with that intense sense of trepidation and invading your veins.

He permits you to wrap your arms around his torso as you nuzzle against him, body going rigid for a moment, still and stiff as marble, before he exhales again, melting into your embrace.

Several questions race through your mind at such a speed that they crash and clash together, becoming nothing more than incoherent jumbled lettering, tiny fingers curling in the fabric of his clothing as you try to pull him closer, nonsensical babbling spilling from your lips. A vacant ghost of a chuckle leaves his lips, nothing more than a simple huff of breath, and he squeezes you closer.

“Bad day?” the words are mumbled against his dirty t-shirt, what was once a pristine white now tarnished with ash and blood. You don’t get a response—you don’t expect one.

He doesn’t talk much, not on days like this.

He doesn’t need to.

Bad days—really bad, terrible, awful days such as this one—are surprisingly rare with Dabi. Sure, he’s had the typical ‘bad’ day before, where someone pisses him off, or he gets into a fight with his superior, but those bad days usually require railing you into your creaky, springy king-sized mattress until you’ve forgotten everything but his name and he’s fucked all of the anger and hatred out of his body.

They are not like this one. No, on days such as this, on days where he’s killed someone he deems to be innocent, someone who—like him—is a victim of heroism, he’s quiet, distant, unpredictable, bordering on unhinged, and you’ve learned to tread with extreme discretion.

But you don’t push, either, resolving to communicate through gentle touches, soft fingertips that run along his tense, broad shoulders and press into the hard coiled muscles, tender fingers that thread through inky tufts of hair, sapphire eyes closing as he hums and leans into the motion like a cat.

It’s only for a second, though, just a moment of weakness before he’s breaking out of your embrace, pushing past you and clearing his throat, glass door to the balcony sliding shut a moment later. 

You don’t follow. You know better than that now, a phantom sting in your cheek serving as a reminder, the resounding sharp sound of glass shattering as it’s hurled at the floor slicing through your mind with such viciousness it makes you wince. 

Instead, you sit. And you wait. Like you’re supposed to, like a good little girl, a book clutched between your quivering hands, unblinking eyes staring at the words on the page, nothing but incomprehensible symbols—lines and lines of black ink in meaningless shapes—as scorching sapphire loops through your mind.

Be a good girl, give him space, let him come to you. Be a good girl, give him space, let him come to you. Be a good girl. Give him space. Let him come to you.

It’s standard procedure, really.

And eventually, he does, comes back inside with an empty bottle of whiskey clutched in a hand, along with a crumpled package of cigarettes. You don’t know how long it’s been, muscles sore and joints aching from sitting in the same position for so long, eyes dry from staring at the same page, barely moving, barely breathing. His hand is bleeding, knuckles bruised and gleaming with sticky scarlet that’s still fresh and flowing, but it could be worse. It has been worse.

The harsh clink of the bottle against the kitchen counter makes you flinch, and he sighs, heavy and full of derision, eyes flicking up to glare at your side profile.

“I can hear you thinking,”

“You’re filthy, baby,” the words tumble past your lips, uncontrollable, involuntary, almost reflexive in your response, eyes snapping to his face and voice whiny, voice pleading. “Take a bath with me,”

And you can see it—can see it in the dark cobalt of his irises, what he needs, the very thing he’s fighting himself on, the very thing he’s fighting so hard against. Always so stubborn, so reluctant, so cautious.

Because, fuck, he used to be able to resist it, this pathetic ache for comfort—something that’s only managed to grow in your presence, that’s shifted and morphed from a dull smoldering to a raging fire, an insatiable longing for your fingers in his hair and your breath on his skin and your voice against his ear—a skill he’d been constructing, developing, perfecting, since he was thirteen years old. A skill you succeeded in shattering in the matter of a few measly months.

Because you—you’re different. And he hates it sometimes, he swears to the good Lord he does, but hating it doesn’t make it any less true. You break him down, you make him weak, you make him want, and the longer he spends around you, the more he finds that he doesn’t fucking care. And that’s irritating, that’s exciting, that’s terrifying, that’s new. 

Fury blisters his chest, his lungs, his throat as he holds your stare, jaw clenching twice. But you don’t falter, not like the rest of them, not like anyone else—everyone else. You never falter, always so eager to see the good in him, a snort leaving his nose at the thought. The good in him. Is there any good left in him? Was there ever any good in him in the first place? Are you the good in him, now? Does he care?

And he’s not sure he’ll ever understand it, but he’s beginning to realize that, maybe, he doesn’t have to. 

Maybe, it doesn’t matter. Maybe, it’s okay, if you love him, if he loves you.

Maybe.

It’s too much, and he can feel frustration stinging his eyes, long delicate eyelashes fluttering as he quickly blinks it away. Spears, sharp and cold, splinter your chest at the sight, but you know if you begin crying too, you’ll lose him. You know that if you begin showing what he considers weakness, he’ll pull away, even though this is what he so clearly needs most. 

So you steel yourself, swallowing hard against the pain collecting in your throat, will the tears away and force your body to stay calm, approaching him slowly as if he’s some sort of feral animal prone to lashing out. 

Apprehension is clear in his azure eyes, head tilting a little as they narrow, regarding you with skepticism, with suspicion. 

It’s bold, and dangerous, and—as far as Dabi’s concerned—fucking stupid, but you don’t care, determined to prove to him that you aren’t going anywhere regardless of how many tantrums he throws, no matter how many times he hurts you in his anguish. It’s almost desperate, really, this sheer need to prove to him that you aren’t scared of him, that irrespective of how soft he seems to think you are, you are strong, even if it’s in ways he could never understand, that you can be strong for him, when he needs it, that he can borrow some of your strength, if he needs to.

And that—that’s why he loves you. It hits him hard, as this realization always does, kicks him in the chest and knocks the breath out of him every time, and he’s not sure he’ll ever get used to it.

A tiny hand hangs in the air between the two of you, Dabi regarding the offer with a wary hesitance. Wiggling fingers attempt to entice him, earning a tiny smirk—a massive victory—as sapphire flits up to gaze at you through thick lashes, an eyebrow raised.

You match his expression, quirking an eyebrow of your own and nodding at your hand, speaking a moment later.

“Let me in, baby,” the words are barely above a whisper, but they’re so raw, filled with so much unadulterated love it hurts, pure and real and everything he’s never had before. “Let me help,”

And, God, it’s fucking overwhelming, how badly he wishes to give in to this unfamiliar compassion, how desperately he desires your affection, despite the malicious voice echoing off the walls of his skull, berating him for being so pathetic, so weak, so vulnerable.

But the urge to accept, to seek out consolation in you, wins, just as it always does, that nasty voice reverberating in his mind silenced the very instant his skin touches yours.

You let him make the last move, allow him to make that final decision entirely on his own accord, to grasp your hand in his, warm and rough, and pull you towards him, crushing you against his chest as he buries his face in your hair, eyes squeezed shut against that annoying burn of tears, chest stuttered with a hitched breath, air that gets caught in his throat as he chokes on the words he wants to say.

But he doesn’t need to say them. You already know.

“Come,” you murmur to him, fingers threading through the tufts of hair at the nape of his neck. “Let’s take a bath,”

     ✰          ✰          ✰

The bathwater stings your skin, just a hint too hot to be comfortable, but you say nothing as you settle onto his lap in the cramped little tub, encompassed by frothy bubbles, dainty scent of orange citrus tickling your nose.

Heated fingertips press into your hips as he finds comfort the only way he knows how to, in your precious little whimpers and broken moans of his name as he bounces you on his cock, so vigorously you’re positive you can feel him in your tummy, the pads of his fingers searing his prints into your skin.

It’s heady, it’s intoxicating, it’s addicting, heightened emotions both pleasant and unpleasant swirling together with the symphony of your cries and his grunts as the water you’re submerged in begins to bubble and boil, to crack and pop, sudsy liquid sloshing over the side of the tiny tub as he forces you to ride him, faster and faster and faster until you’re whining and convulsing around him, and he’s filling you with thick cum, cock throbbing aggressively as he spurts load after load into you.

After, as he leans back against the cold tile, residual droplets sizzling into steam as his heated skin touches them. Gentle fingers card between his hair, water cascading through onyx strands as it pours over his head from a worn plastic cup—a faded Darth Vader staring back at you as you rhythmically repeat your actions until the tresses stick to his forehead and cheeks, drenched and shining in the low light of the washroom.

Heavy lids obscure the most brilliant sapphire from you as shampoo is massaged into his scalp, slow and unhurried and thorough, every stroke, every comb through inky clumps easing the turmoil in his mind bit by bit, calming the storm that’s been raging inside of him for hours now. Deep hums rumble in his chest as your fingers continue their ministrations, your eyes trained on your motions. And you can feel it, the tension dissipating from his body with each circle of foam rubbed into his soft hair, shoulders finally beginning to relax as he subconsciously nuzzles into your touch, following it, longing for it, aching for more.

He shifts then, after you’ve rinsed the soap from his hair, manhandling you into a position between his thighs, bare chest pressed tightly against your back. You work hard to keep your body from tensing, forcing your breathing to stay even, to stay calm as you brace yourself for what’s coming next.

“He was eleven,” he says after several long moments of silence, voice low and trembling, hoarse and heavy with remorse. “This time.”

This time. That’s the third innocent civilian—innocent by his standards, at least—this month.

That’s the first time it’s ever been a child.

You don’t turn around to look at him, not yet—he isn’t finished—simply opting to lace your fingers through his and bring your joined hands to your lips, kissing each wounded knuckle, crude staples catching in the dim warm light of the tiny bathroom. 

You want to tell him it wasn’t his fault, even though it was. You want to tell him anything that’ll make him feel better, that’ll absolve the guilt so evidently gnawing away at his insides, even though you know there’s nothing you can say.

“What are—I don’t even—” his voice breaks and you feel his chest stutter against your back, feel him exhale harshly, breath cool on your damp shoulder, feel him swallow thickly as he tries again. Because as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, as much as he would never admit it, you know he needs release this from the confines of his mind—you know you’re the only person who can offer him such an outlet. “Why the fuck were there kids there in the first place? Huh? They shouldn’t—They shouldn’t have been there,”

Orphans are everywhere in this city, you murmur, lips moving against his rough skin. He knows. Orphans of heroes. He knows.

“I’m gonna kill Shigaraki, I swear to Christ. Sending us to a—a fucking place infested with fucking ch-children,” his fingers curl around yours, hand beginning to shake as it clutches you like a lifeline, like that guilt will devour him from the inside out, like he’ll disintegrate into nothingness, if he doesn’t. “I bet you he fucking knew—nah, I-I’m positive he did. Asshole only cares about himself, though. Doesn’t matter that—that the cause we’re supposed to be fighting for affects these stupid kids,”

You’re right, love.

The words leave your lips in a gentle breath, leaning your head back against his collarbone and staring up at him. Cobalt eyes stay trained on the cracked tile wall, jaw methodically clenching as his molars grind together, an attempt to quell the trembling of his chin, exhaling hard harsh breaths through flared nostrils.

“Whatever,” he huffs, voice still wavering and not nearly as self-assured as he wishes. “Th-That brat shouldn’t have been there in the first place,”

He shouldn’t have, you agree, finally squirming in his grasp, turning to face him, to straddle his hips again in the tight space of the tub. And he welcomes your affections readily this time, arms encircling your waist as he holds you tightly to him, blunt nails digging purple-tinged crescents into your flesh as he shoves his face against your neck, finally allowing those emotions he’s been fighting to leak from his eyes and absorb into your skin.

Little palms rub soothing circles into his back as he shudders against you, allowing him to empty his soul onto you as soft lips press chaste kisses to his damp hair, waiting until there’s nothing left, until his eyes are drained, azure glassy and bloodshot, nose twitching and red.

And after he’s done, when he finally pulls back, scrubbing aggressively at his nose as tiny sniffles hitch in his chest, gentle fingers begin to lather soap into his skin, washing away the dirt and grime and blood from the day. Fingertips carefully trace along the metal sutures decorating his body with immeasurable adoration, you whispering all of the things he so desperately needs to hear that he’d never dare to ask for, complimented by the tender touches that cleanse his soul with their unconditional love.

He’s bigger than you are, but that doesn’t stop you from trying to wrap him in a fluffy white towel, using another in an attempt to dry his hair as your hands move in shaggy motions, heart soaring in your chest when you pull a soft laugh from his lips, wet and wobbly and croaky, but a laugh nonetheless.

A mutual silence, gentle and comforting and stuffed full of an immense love, a special kind of love, a love words do not exist to explain, swathes your bodies as he allows you to dress him, pulling a ratty old band tee over his head and a pair of plaid PJ pants up his legs.

“You always look so cute in my clothes,” he rasps from his spot perched on the edge of the bed, glowing crystal eyes watching as you pull one of his t-shirts over your naked body.

A genuine bubble of laughter erupts from your throat as you climb into bed with him, immediately allowing him to latch onto you, to pull you towards him, to hold you close like his own personal plushie.

“Sleep,” you murmur as the two of you settle into a comfortable position, limbs tangled together, his head resting on your chest, fingers threading through his hair and then tracing down his neck, his back. “And then I’ll make you ramen,”

“The spicy kind?”

“Of course,”

I love you.

“Extra spicy?”

Laughing again, you feel his lips curve into a smile against your skin, grip around your torso tightening. “Extra spicy. Now, rest,”

More than anything else.

“With the little fish cakes?”

“Your favourite little fish cakes,”

More than words could ever tell you.

“And the pork belly?”

“And the pork belly,” you feel his chest rise with an inhale, hastily adding, “And those little cream puffs you love so much, from that dingy convenience store downstairs, for dessert. Now sleep, baby,”

He laughs, even though his vision is blurring, even though it comes out more strangled than anything else, because he doesn’t want to cry again, because his chest stings and aches and swells and warms, full of inexplicable emotions, feels like it’s going to fucking burst as it chokes and reinvigorates him all at once, and—God, he loves you, he loves you, he loves you.

Because even though he’s terrified beyond belief, he’s willing to try—just for you, only for you—as he continually realizes with each passing day that he isn’t sure what the fuck he’d do without you, now. Because you’re too entangled up in his life, too deeply embedded in his very soul, for him to ever remove you, now. Because as petrifying and unfamiliar as it is, he doesn’t want to, now.

Because even though he’s broken, irrevocably so, and you can’t fix him, won’t fix him, you’ll still stay, to hold those pieces so gently, so tenderly in your hands, you’ll still protect those fragments and keep them from shattering further, you’ll still give them the affection and devotion they need, the affection and devotion they deserve. Because you love every part of him, even the bad ones, even the shards with jagged edges that cut into the soft flesh of your palms every time you caress them.

Because you accept him wholeheartedly, flaws and all, and that’s—he’s never experienced anything like that before, this unlimited, unreserved, unquestioning love. And although he doesn’t know how to say this, isn’t sure he’ll ever be able to find the right words to communicate it, he’s beginning to learn that unfamiliar doesn’t always mean bad; that sometimes, it’s okay—it’s good—to be vulnerable. He’s beginning to learn that with you, in the warmth of your shitty little apartment, with the stove that only has two functioning burners and the fridge that’s perpetually too cold, he can be, without judgement, without fear, without trepidation.

Because you are his only salvation, and he wouldn’t trade this for the goddamn world.

#dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi #todoroki touya #dabi fluff #dabi angst #aaaah this HURT #anyway big big big thank yous to mister for helping me come up with what we think dabi's favourite food would be #HAPPY BIRTHDAY DABIIIIIII

[butterflypeachgrove]

Lost

This was based on @willowedwisteria's Daycare cult au! Specifically that one ask about Xiao getting lost at the store. Enjoy!

Warnings: Mostly just the experience of a young traumatized child being lost in a general store (I.e lots of panicking, lots of self-esteem issues, and lots of crying), but there is fluff at the end...kinda :D

Where are you?

He had only let go of Venti's hand for a moment, just a single moment. Just a single moment, and it was enough for him to get this turned around. 

Where are you??

An overwhelming sense of panic began to bubble in his chest. Black karma pressed at the corners of his vision, worming its way through his currently vulnerable defenses. It hurt. It hurt. 

Where? Where?

His eyes darted back and forth erratically, his currently tiny form trembling in a way that he would have found completely shameful if he were in his right mind. 

Everything was too overwhelming- No..Everything was just too big.

Aisles packed with food, toys, decorations, and more things that Xiao was unable to put a name to towered over him. Crowds of people weaved around him and through the aisles like uncaring giants. 

He instinctively wanted to summon his spear, his anemo energy, anything to defend himself in this situation of irrational fear, but none of those once natural abilities heeded his call. 

He was too small, too vulnerable, too weak.

How pitiful.

He wanted to curse this new body he had been given as tears pricked the corners of his eyes. While he may have been an millennia old adeptus in Teyvat, in the eyes of this far older world, your world, he was just a toddler, a child. 

A child.. Heh. He could never remember being as small and weak as a mortal child back in Teyvat, no matter how far back in his memory he looked. Now, here he was, desperately wishing to just be in your arms again, safe and sound, just like any child would with their parent.

His tiny foot caught on a lose tile in the flooring and he crashed to the ground with a cry. Some of the giants looked at him with pity, but none moved to help him. He quickly pulled himself to his feet and stumbled away, finally managing to find an aisle devoid of people.

Tears were falling from his face in droves now. 

Holy Celestia, why did falling hurt so much? 

Why was this pathetic body so sensitive?! He could endure spears and arrows and chains lashed into his body, karmic debt ripping apart his soul and insides, but now he couldn't even withstand a single fall?

Truly Pathetic.

His tiny, chubby fingers managed to grasp on one of the lower shelves, allowing Xiao to pull himself up into fetal position. 

His vision was swimming, the blurring in a dizzying display of colors and shapes. Voices of long dead gods and friends tugged viciously at the frays of his mind and played with his internal organs.

He wanted to vomit.

It was getting so hard to breath properly. Karma had its hands wrapped around his neck, violently surging up in his chest, and he didn't have the strength to fight it.

Where are you? Where are you...

save me...

save me please...

He wondered for a brief lucid moment if you were looking for him, before the voices quickly quashed and throttled the notion.

He was just a pitiful monster in the body of a child.

Why would they look for him?

Even if they did, nothing of value would be lost if they didn't find him.

He could offer no protection or substance to such a great and loving god such as yourself.

He could offer nothing of value.

He was just a vile wretch.

A dream-feasting monster.

Yet, here he was pleading to be saved.

He deserved no such sympathy-

"Xiao!"

His eyes snapped open.

Venti?

He slowly turned his head, puffy golden eyes meeting concerned aquamarine. 

"Oh thank Teyvat I found you!" The six year old let out a breath of relief, "We've been looking everywhere for you!"

We?

"Hey! I found him!"

He felt a large shadow fall over him and he looked towards the entrance of the aisle.

His eyes widened. 

There you were, the overhanging lights casting a halo around as you stood above him with worry and relief. You stood there like a beacon of light, a pillar of comfort and safety. 

Tears flooded his eyes once more without his control, surging down his cheeks like overflowing waterfalls, as his breathing became irregular once more, although from an entire different emotion than fear. 

He stumbled to his feet and ran to you, and you lowered yourself with open arms. 

You don't deserve it.

You don't deserve-

He slammed into you with the force of a runaway toy train, face puffy, red, and covered in tears and snot as he desperately clasped at your clothes like the frightened child he was being (Teyvat, he was such a mess). As soon as he made contact with you the voices, the darkness, the karma, all the bad things seemed to disappear, frightened away by your tender light and warmth.

You gently drew him closer, carefully scooping him up and pressing his head against your chest. 

He immediately seemed to collapse against you as soon as your heartbeat thrummed through his little ears.

Thump-Thump.

Thump-Thump. 

He whined a little and snuggled deeper into your chest, softly nosing your collar-bone, then wincing just the slightest bit as you wiped the tears and dripping snot away from his tender, red face with your sleeve. You looked at him with a soft kind of worry, gingerly petting his dark, downy seaweed green hair in an effort to soothe him as you lightly bounced him up and down. Your hand brushed against his forehead and your eyes widened when you felt feverish skin and dripping sweat.

'Ah,' You internalized with a pang of guilt, 'His karma's acting up again.'

You felt around your pockets. Your face darkened just the slightest bit.

'Dammit, and I didn't bring his medicine with me.'

You softly tucked his head under your chin, then lent down your hand that wasn't holding Xiao out to Venti, who eagerly took it. You needed to get home. If too much karma built up in that little body of his, it could wind up making him extremely sick. Not only that, but with the way it ravaged his body it could make his immune system extremely weak as well, causing him to become receptive to all kinds of diseases with this cold weather. 

You let out a soft sigh as the three of you headed towards the front entrance of the store. 

Looks like your shopping would have to wait another day. 

#sagau #genshin xiao #genshin venti #Sagau Daycare AU #butterfly.stories

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 2,759 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria Warnings: Language, mentions of violence, references to gore, mentions of anxiety, disturbing imagery, typical TWD stuff Summary: Daryl and Y/N are outside the walls when they hear a baby crying. A/N: THIS IS SO SOFT I MIGHT DIE. Requested by anonymous! Hope you like it! Thanks for the request!

Your name: submit What is this?

You froze. You glanced back at the archer, “D’you hear that?” you asked him in a harsh whisper.

Daryl strained his hearing. “Heard somethin’.”

You’d been venturing out with Daryl for tracking lessons for quite some time. He’d been somewhat opposed to the idea at first, not liking the idea of you wandering around outside the walls, but you’d worn him down. Now, you were getting quite good at reading sign and he had noticed that you seemed to be much more observant, vigilant as you moved through the trees. Your footsteps were nearly silent.

You straightened up, turning from the trail of the deer you’d been tracing, and Daryl watched as you turned to the side, your eyes lifted to some unknown distant point in the trees.

“What is it?” he asked, noticing the slightly anxious look on your face.

You shook your head almost imperceptibly. “I don’t know. It’s just a feeling more than anything.” You glanced back at him and were met with his steady blue eyes. You chewed the inside of your cheek for a moment. “Come on,” you said, stepping away from the deer trail and moving in the direction you thought the sound had come from.

You didn’t have to go far before you heard the sound again, and this time it was much clearer. Your wide eyes met Daryl’s, his brow heavily furrowed. Your stomach twisted. You turned and increased your pace.

You moved through the brush as quietly as you could and finally you saw a shape looming ahead. It was an abandoned house, more of a shack really than anything. The sound was clear now as you crouched at the edge of the lot. Daryl knelt beside you and you exchanged a harried glance with him.

It was a baby crying and it was coming from inside the house. There were about a dozen walkers beating on the rotten woods of the dilapidated structure. It looked like it wouldn’t be long before they broke in.

Daryl worried his bottom lip with his teeth. “S’a lot of walkers,” he murmured.

You gulped and looked back. “We have to do something.”

He sighed, hesitating, his eyes flickering between your face and the group of the dead.

You couldn’t wait anymore. There was a swell of urgency growing in your chest, like a high tide rushing in. You swore under your breath and unsheathed the knife at your hip. You rushed out of the brush and right toward the walkers.

Daryl scrambled up to follow you.

You plunged your knife into the skull of the first walker lurching at you and immediately repeated the action with another. As you pulled your knife out, you landed a kick into one of the dead who was grappling for you.

Daryl was soon beside you, slashing and stabbing just like you were to clear the way to the building.

By the time you were done, you were drenched in sweat and Daryl looked at the circle of now still corpses around you. There was a spray of walker blood across your neck. He was about to scold you for rushing in, but he was taken aback by the number you had killed, and you weren’t done with your somewhat frantic mission.

You charged to the door and saw that it was splintered from the latch. They’d almost broken through. You turned the handle and pushed inside. You froze with just one foot inside the small house.

Daryl looked in past you, over your shoulder.

There was the desperately wailing baby, still swaddled to its mother in a makeshift carrier. She was dead. You made a lunge toward the infant, but Daryl’s hand clasped your shoulder gently and stopped you. You glanced back at him, your eyes glistening with tears and your expression pure desperation.

He nodded. “We dunno what she died from. And she could turn at any second. Be careful,” he murmured.

You nodded at him and he lifted his hand. You approached the prone figure cautiously, all the while the baby’s cries piercing straight through you. You knelt down and carefully lifted the swaddled infant from the body of its mother, being careful and kind to the body of the woman who had probably given her everything to see that her child survived.

Daryl watched as you murmured to the infant in a soft voice, shushing and humming. “Shhh, it’s alright. It’s okay.” You pressed the baby to your chest and stood, bouncing slightly to try and soothe the cries. Eventually, she stilled. You glanced up at Daryl, your eyes still wide and glistening, although no tears stained your cheeks.

He was staring at you with a curious expression on his face. It was soft and thoughtful. He shouldered the strap of his crossbow and moved farther into the house, looking around. “Gotta be some supplies for that baby here somewhere, right?” he said. He felt the need to focus on a task because looking at you with the little bundle against your chest was bringing to life some warm, fluttery feelings he didn’t want to acknowledge.

“Hopefully,” you said, wrapping the sling around yourself and settling the baby inside. You smiled sweetly as she grasped your finger and a little laugh of joy bubbled out of you. Daryl looked up from his search and saw you smoothing your hand over her soft hair. “She has to be starving,” you said, your eyes a little starry.

Daryl tore his eyes away from the scene again. “Mm,” he acknowledged, the best he could do because he was worried what might slip out if he said any more. “Here,” he said, picking up a small duffel bag. It had some bottles and formula in it, as well as cloth diapers and a baby toy.

He shouldered the bag and walked back to you, peeking in over your shoulder at the little face pressed against you, your finger in her tiny, curled hand. “C’mon,” he said softly, surprising himself and you as his hand landed lightly on your lower back. “Let’s get her back somewhere safe.”

You looked up into his face and saw that his expression was open, earnest, soft. Your heart jumped. You nodded, but hesitated a moment when he started to head toward the door. Daryl looked back when he didn’t feel you behind him and saw that you were staring down at the still figure on the floor. “We can’t just leave her like this. She’ll turn,” you said softly, your brow furrowing.

He gulped and nodded. “Alright. Just wait outside a sec. I’ll do it,” he said, unsheathing his knife.

You gave him a sad but grateful look, pressing the baby against you more securely and nodded. “Thank you.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

You arrived back at the gate to Alexandria and Rosita let you in. Her eyes went wide when she realized what you exactly that bundle slung across your chest was. She came closer and peeked into the sling, her eyes flitting up to meet yours.

“We found her in an abandoned house, surrounded by walkers. Her mom was already dead,” you whispered. She was sleeping against you.

Rosita’s expression was sad for a moment, but then she smiled at the rosy cheeks and long eyelashes fanned out against the little girl’s cheeks. “Preciosa,” she murmured.

You smiled up at her.

Daryl was watching the whole interaction from a couple feet away and he couldn’t take his eyes off you. You were so soft and gentle, the look in your eyes like you’d never seen something more beautiful in your whole life. He kept feeling waves of warmth blooming out from his core and suddenly seemed unable to stand still, shifting his weight and tapping his fingers against his leg. “We should take her to get checked out by the doc,” Daryl said quietly.

You nodded, giving Rosita one last smile and then falling into stride beside him.

Daryl glanced over at you as you walked to the clinic. You caught him studying your face and gave him a questioning look.

“I wanted to yell at ya out there for rushin’ in like that,” he said. He glanced again at the baby. “But I get it. If you hadn’t, I woulda.”

You nodded. “I don’t what happened—I just couldn’t sit there and let them get her, even if it meant I might—” you broke off, not wanting to speak what was always a real possibility outside the walls.

“Yeah. Ya killed like seven of ‘em yourself before I even got there,” he said, slight amusement turning one corner of his mouth up.

You smiled abashedly. “Yeah…”

“I mean, I know ya can fight but—” he broke off, shaking his head, that vague smile still slightly curving his lips.

You arrived at the clinic and Daryl led the way inside. Denise looked up as he came in and immediately sighed. “Oh, no. Don’t tell me one of you needs stitches again?”

But she froze when you stepped in with that swaddled bundle in your arms.

Her eyebrows lifted. “Is that what I think it is?” she asked, bewildered, as you wandered over.

“Can you take a look at her?” you asked, lifting her out of the sling that was draped around you. She woke and stirred, immediately starting to cry again. The sound tugged at your heart.

Denise nodded. “Of course. Bring her over here,” she said, leading the way to a cushioned exam table.

“Shhhh, it’s okay. It’s alright,” you cooed, setting her down on her back. You offered your finger and she gripped it tightly. You smiled up at Daryl and his heart skipped a beat at the breathtaking light in your eyes and that irresistible grin. “She feels strong. That’s good, right?” you asked, turning to Denise.

She was setting her stethoscope aside. “Lungs and heart sound great. She looks healthy.” She glanced up at you. “I don’t know exactly what happened out there, but I have a hunch she’s lucky you found her.”

You nodded. “Yeah…”

“I think I saw some baby formula and other stuff you might need in the supply room. Lemme just check,” Denise said.

You scooped the little girl back up into your arms and her cries immediately became less desperate. You pressed her to your shoulder and rubbing her back softly, shushing her and bouncing, pressing her soft hair to your cheek. “Daryl, would you mind making up a bottle for her?” you asked.

He nudged his nose up in a nod, and you felt warmth in your face as you watched the tough biker pull out the canister of formula and a bottle, which looked tiny in his hand. You smiled to yourself as he went to mix up a bottle.

Denise returned with another canister of powdered formula and more cloth diapers as well as some other odds and ends for baby care. She shoved them into the bag Daryl had found at the abandoned house. Denise smiled and smoothed a hand over her soft hair. “Pretty amazing. Everyone is going to lose their minds over her. Little ones are so rare now,” she said. “First Judith and now this sweet little one.”

You nodded. “Yeah. I can’t stop thinking about what would have happened if Daryl and I had waited until tomorrow to go tracking, or if I had just ignored the first sound I heard.”

Denise nodded. “But you didn’t. And she’s safe and healthy now.”

Daryl came back with a bottle he had warmed slightly in the microwave and you grinned at him as he handed it to you. You adjusted her in your arms and she immediately latched on to the bottle and started eating. Daryl studied the tender expression on your face, that little smile that seemed like it might stay there forever now. He reached a hand up and rubbed absently at the ache in his chest. You looked up at Denise again. “Thanks, Denise,” you said. “We should head back to the house.”

“Anytime.” Denise gently smoothed her hand over the tiny girl’s hair one more time and gave you a kind smile.

You and Daryl started back toward the house at a leisurely pace. He still had the bag slung over his shoulder and you watched as she drank the formula hungrily. You could feel Daryl’s eyes on your face again and you glanced up at him.

“This mean you’re a mom now?” the archer drawled. You were struck by the question your eyebrows lifted.

“Huh… I hadn’t really thought about it that way,” you said, adjusting the bottle in your hand and looking back down at the little one in your arms. “She needs a mom. And I’m here,” you said softly. “I guess so,” you said, looking back up at Daryl. “Life is strange,” you said, shaking your head, peering back down at her.

“Mhm,” Daryl agreed. “She’s lucky to have ya.” Your heart skipped a beat at his words.

You were immediately swarmed by the group when you arrived back at the house. Everyone pressed in to see the baby, cooing and smiling. She was going to be so loved.

“Can I hold her?” Carol asked immediately.

“Hey! Nuh uh!” Daryl said, hurrying to set down the baby bag and his crossbow. “I helped save her and I ain’t even held her yet. Give her here,” he said, holding his arms out.

You grinned at him and carefully passed her to Daryl. He smiled down at her, rocking her from side to side. The sight of him with that sweet little baby in his strong arms was doing things to you… You hoped your face wasn’t turning red from the flush of heat you felt. “She needs a name,” you said thoughtfully.

“Easy. Lil’ Asskicker 2.0,” Daryl said, letting her grasp onto his finger. Everyone had a good laugh about that.

_ _ _ _ _ _

That night you fell asleep on the floor of the living room with the little girl beside you on a blanket. You were curled around her and she was pressed close against you, needing the comfort of someone to sleep.

Daryl was sitting on the couch nearby, alternating between cleaning and sharpening his blades and thoughtfully watching you sleep beside the new group member.

Carol leaned on the back of the couch beside him, looking over at you and the baby, smiling. Daryl turned to look at her.

“It’s nice to be reminded that good things can still happen,” she said softly.

“Mhm,” Daryl hummed, nodding. He flicked his thumb over the edge of the knife blade he was sharpening, testing to see if it needed more. “Ya should have seen her out there. She just ran right into this group of walkers and started takin’ ‘em out.”

Carol’s smile widened. “Maternal instinct,” she said. She glanced over at the archer and saw his blue eyes fixated on you. “Looks like she has a mom. She’s going to need a dad.”

Daryl’s eyes snapped over to peer back at Carol, his brow furrowing low. He scoffed a little at her statement. “She’s got a whole group of us. She don’t need me.”

“So, you wouldn’t like that? Having your own little family within our big family? Especially with Y/N…” she said, a knowing smile on her face. “Come on, your ears turn red every time she enters the room!”

Daryl shifted uncomfortably as Carol spoke a wish that was close to his heart, but which he was too terrified to act on.

Carol quit her teasing and sighed, looking back at you and the little one sleeping peacefully. “You’re not your father, Daryl. You’re you. And you’d be an amazing dad,” she said. “And if you don’t try, find something worth holding onto, worth protecting, what’s the point anymore?” And more than anything, Daryl knew that you were worth protecting. And now so was this little one. So, maybe it was time that he tried for what he wanted.

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl dixon x reader #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles

[besanii]

shattered mirrors 73

[ set after #69 ]

He’s stumbling forward before he even realises he’s moving, knocking into the low desk with his foot and almost falling over if not for Lan Wangji’s steady hand around his elbow. His limbs feel like lead and his body moves as though wading upstream against a rushing river. His ears are ringing, his vision spotting at the edges, but through all of that he sees the person before him.

“A-Xian.” A sob bubbles up inside his throat at the sound of his name in her voice. “A-Xian.”

She too is stumbling towards him, arms outstretched and tears in her eyes. He wants desperately to fall into her arms, to bury himself in her embrace and let her warmth wrap around him and wash away the horrors of the last fourteen years. Pretend as though he is still Wei Ying, the ward of Yunmeng, her brother in all but name and blood, the little boy who had grown up as her second shadow.

Instead, he sinks to his knees at her feet and presses his forehead to the floor. Lan Wangji follows him to the floor, hovering protectively around him

“Your guilty subject pays respects to Gongzhu-dianxia,” he says. “I humbly beg Dianxia’s forgiveness for failing my duty to Yunmeng Jiang.”

There. He’s said it. The words that had been eating away at him all these years, the constant shadow of guilt lingering in the corner of his mind. His family had been tasked with the protection of Yunmeng and its royal family, it had been their job to gather intelligence and wield it in their defence.

He’d failed. And Yunmeng had fallen.

A strangled noise leaves Jiang Yanli’s throat.

“A-Xian, no,” she says. “No, A-Xian, there is nothing to forgive. Please, get up—”

She reaches for his hands, tugging at them to make him stand, but he remains resolutely prostrate.

“Gongzhu-dianxia, this guilty subject does not dare.”

Her hands tighten around his almost painfully for a moment before she sighs, her whole body sagging with the movement.

“You did everything you could,” she tells him. When he goes to deny it, she squeezes his hand again. “Look at me.” He reluctantly raises his head and sees her looking back at him with a tremble in the firm line of her mouth. “A-Xian, I would be dead—or perhaps worse—if not for you. You saved me.”

He presses his lips together in a hard line, his breath heavy through his nose as he struggles to keep the tears at bay.

“I could have done more,” he whispers. “I could have—”

“You did everything you could,” she repeats firmly. “A-Xian, there was nothing more you could have done. Not under those circumstances.”

A raw, wounded noise tears itself from his throat, through his tightly closed lips.

“I should have realised the reports were false,” he argues, hands twisting in the fabric of his robes. “I should have verified them personally, I—”

She takes his face between her hands, shocking him into silence.

There are new lines on her face, around her eyes and mouth, that hadn’t been there before; she’s older, he realises, and has had to fend for herself for many years. The Jiang Yanli before him now glows with health and vigour, dressed in the thick, coarse garments of the northern border tribes rather than the silks of the capital—a far cry from the sheltered princess from Yunmeng she had been in their youth. Her hands, still so small against his cheek, are rough and callused from hard labour.

“A-Xian, you did everything you could,” she repeats firmly. “It is in the past. Do not blame yourself any longer. Alright?”

He closes his eyes with a shuddering sigh.

And then he’s falling forward into Jiang Yanli’s waiting arms with an aborted cry, clutching at the back of her heavy cloak desperately. Her scent is different—the lotus blossoms replaced by something earthier and less floral—and the arms she wraps around him are stronger, the hug firmer than what he remembers. But the way her fingers run through his hair, the warmth of her body, the way she envelopes him in her embrace despite the difference in stature—there is no mistaking it. He would know it anywhere.

“Jiejie.” He’s repeating himself, over and over again, the way he has not done since they were children and it was still allowed. This is not a dream. “Jiejie, jiejie, jiejie—”

“A-Xian.” Jiang Yanli laughs, her voice thick with tears. “Oh, A-Xian, I’m so glad you’re alive. I’ve missed you so.”

He’s missed her too. There are no words to describe how much he’s missed her. So he just holds her tighter, buries his face in her shoulder as they sink to their knees in the middle of the study floor. He’s dimly aware of movement around them—the servants, perhaps, or Lan Wangji, stepping away to give them some privacy—but he doesn’t acknowledge them, overwhelmed by the fact that Jiang Yanli is here, in his arms, safe and sound after so many years.

“Fourteen years…” She pulls away, running her hands over his hair and face as she does, drinking in the sight of him. “A-Xian, you’ve lost weight.”

He shakes his head and laughs. “I’m alright. Don’t worry about me.” He leans into the hand resting on his cheek. “You look good, Jiejie. You haven’t changed at all.”

It’s her turn to shake her head, falling so easily into their familiar banter as she admonishes him for lying.

“Nonsense. Look at me.” She sits back on her heels and raises her arms to show off the travel-worn garb beneath her heavy cloak. “I’m just a humble farmer’s wife now.”

At the word ‘wife’, Wei Wuxian is suddenly reminded they are not alone. His attention is drawn to the doorway where Jin Zixuan stands with his arm around a boy of no more than ten. Gone are the fine, embroidered silks and gilded jewels signature to the Crown Prince of Lanling. Instead, both are dressed in the same thick, northern-style robes as Jiang Yanli, both with the same broad shoulders, sun-kissed skin and matching vermilion marks between their brows. Jin Zixuan offers him a nod when their eyes meet.

“Wei Wuxian, it’s been a while.” After a moment, he hastily corrects himself and bows. “My apologies, I did not mean any disrespect. Jin Zixuan greets Hanguang-wangye, Hanguang-wangfei.”

“Taizi—Jin-gongzi.” Wei Wuxian corrects himself quickly, returning his greeting with a short bow. “There is no need for such formality. It is good to see you all well.”

He is surprised to find he means it sincerely; there was no such goodwill the last time they had crossed paths, young and foolhardy as they were. But those days are long past. Gone is the spoilt young prince who had spurned the woman he regarded as a sister, buried beneath the cold ashes of a war that took everything from them in one fell swoop. This Jin Zixuan is a husband, a father, who had done the unthinkable—renouncing his claim to the throne of Lanling to search for Jiang Yanli without knowing whether or not she was even alive—and had been rewarded for his devotion.

Jiang Cheng, ah, Jiang Cheng, Wei Wuxian thinks. I think even you would hold a bit of respect for him now.

Jin Zixuan’s eyes shift to Lan Wangji, standing silently behind Wei Wuxian, and offers a deeper bow, which Lan Wangji returns with an incline of his head. Jiang Yanli follows suit from where she is still on her knees with Wei Wuxian, bowing low at the waist.

“Jiang Yanli greets Hanguang-wangye, Hanguang-wangfei,” she echoes. “Thank you for taking care of A-Xian. Yunmeng owes you a great debt.”

Before either of them can react to dispute her claim, she turns to beckon the boy—her son, Wei Wuxian’s heart leaps with realisation—closer with one hand, dabbing at her eyes with the sleeve of the other. She draws the boy closer, turns him to face both Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji with a warm smile and a comforting hand on his back. The boy looks up at them with something akin to awe in his eyes.

“A-Ling, come and pay respects to Wangye and Wangfei,” she tells him. “They are our family’s benefactors. Without their help, we would not be here today, so we must repay this debt however we can.”

“Yes, A-Niang.” Jin Ling steps away from his mother, squaring his little shoulders in a way that reminds Wei Wuxian of his father when they had first met, trying to put on an air of importance despite his small stature; he clasps his fingers in front of his chest and performs a textbook-perfect bow from the waist. “Jin Ling pays respects to Hanguang-wangye, Hanguang-wangfei.”

Wei Wuxian looks back at Lan Wangji, helpless in the face of their collective insistence, and sees the corner of Lan Wangji’s lips twitch. He sighs in defeat.

“Jin-xiao-gongzi,” he says, struggling to keep his voice steady. “Your mother’s family took me in when my parents passed, kept the roof over my head and the clothes on my back. Without them, I would not be here today. Whatever debt there is between us, let us wipe the slate clean now and start anew.”

He sees Lan Wangji incline his head in agreement, eyes soft as he holds out a hand to help him to his feet. His arm is warm and steady around his waist, his hand firm in his, holding him upright as he works to calm the storm of emotions warring within his chest. Finally, he gives the hand in his a brief squeeze and turns back to their guests with a bright smile.

“Now, let’s dispense with all this formality,” he says. “You must be tired from your journey—you must stay with us, here in Hanguang Manor. In fact, I insist upon it.”

Jiang Yanli exchanges a quick look with her husband.

“We do not wish to—” Wei Wuxian clears his throat pointedly, and Jiang Yanli falters mid-sentence, pauses and acquiesces with an amused sigh. “Then it would be impolite of us to decline such a generous offer.”

--

Translations

Gongzhu-dianxia (公主殿下) - Your Highness, the Princess

wangfei (王妃) - consort to the Duke, his legitimate wife/spouse

--

Notes

Approximately a billion years later!!!!

WWX called JYL jiejie as a child, before they got older and it was inappropriate to do so, after which he sometimes called her shijie in private, but mostly addressed her as Gongzhu-dianxia in public.

Any errors or inconsistencies will...be addressed at some point. It’s been a while and I need to revisit some things to remind myself what’s happened >_>

--

buy me a ko-fi!

more shattered mirrors fic | verse

#mdzs #wangxian #my writing #shattered mirrors fic #shattered mirrors au #lan wangji #wei wuxian #王爷机 X 花魁羡 #jiang yanli #jin zixuan #jin ling #🥢 #wei wuxian arc #this got long #and i gave up trying to make it coherent #my brain is not working after the second pfizer dose

[bloodycassian]

SHADOW V SHADOW - reader x Azriel PROMPT -  I have a request. Can you make one where azriel's partner is kidnapped and tortured by people from the court of nightmares? then he gets desperate, but finally manages to find her, he arrives pissed off at the place and at the end of everything is right please?.

Rhys knew Azriel would never forgive him if he denied this request. His brother was practically vibrating with rage when he returned from Rask. His search for you took him to any whisper of  a lead he could find. Without another option, he requested - more of a demand but Rhys could see why- to pay Kier a visit.  Rhys gave Kier the courtesy of a day of preparation.  Azriel dressed in his darkest armor, and didn't hide the way his siphons glowed bright in the throne room. Rhys quieted the gathering with a hand, and Az let his shadows do the work. He scanned the crowd for anyone who looked to be nervous. Well, more nervous than usual in the presence of their high lord.  "I think you all know that we have been busy of late." Rhys drawled. He scanned the crowd as well, his mind flicking from one person to the next. "Back left, take him and leave. There may be more that notice you." Azriel walked off the platform, and turned to mist. + The first male to meet his end was the one who spat in his face and promised him that you were already dead. The next was smarter. He saw what was done to his friend and begged Azriel for mercy. "Your mate is locked far below." He quivered in his seat where Azriel had tied him. "But he watches her. He watched over us all."  "Who?" Azriel ground out, the tip of his dagger carving a crescent into the high cheekbone of the noble Fae. "Riker, he's below. He's far below, where Kier's magic does not touch."  "You've been useful." Azriel nodded, then jutted his dagger into the male's stomach. His hands did not shake. He wiped them on the male's tunic and left the body where it was tied. He had more digging to do, apparently.  And Kier was the first person he would ask. + "Who's Riker?" Rhys asked casually, holding Kier's mind in the now empty throne room. Kier's body twitched in defiance of Rhy's control.  "I dont-" Kier gasped. Azriel stepped closer to the male, menacing. The shadows crept up Kier's legs. Azriel did not flinch when Rhys' power squeezed the breath from him. "Dont be shy. Tell us all about it." Rhys coaxed. Finally, Kier gave the slightest nod. And Rhys let him drop to the floor, gasping for air. Azriel kept his shadows around the male, just in case. "Riker was a story. A legend from when I was a child. No one has heard of him since the Final Battle of the Prison." He gasped, and sputtered on the floor. When he looked up, his eyes were bloodshot. They still narrowed at Rhysand.  "What were the legends of?" Azriel demanded, ready to let his tendrils of darkness assert themselves over the male. Kier managed a laugh, then looked to both of them quizzically. "You're serious." He sighed, and wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. Rhys was not amused. His claws danced along the edge of his consciousness. "He was a horror to all. Not a Fae.. not really. He possessed the bodies of fae to do his bidding. Like a poison, he takes control and forces you to do as he wishes. If its killing, or stealing, or fucking. Anything. You have no control."  Azriel's stomach dropped to the floor.  He and his brother glanced at each other, and Rhys nodded a curt dismissal to Kier. "Dont look for him. He will use your magic to destroy anything." He warned, giving Rhys a long look before limping from the throne room. + "The shadow will bring freedom to us. We will leave this hole and be free." The priestess said, as if reading from a book. See recited the words like they were Holy. You cringed in disgust. It wasnt the first time you'd heard one of the eyeless creatures say it, but it was one of the scariest encounters since you'd been taken. The dead eyes of the withering priestess were haunting. Perhaps taken was the wrong word. You seemed to just wake up and decide to start walking. Your mind screamed against what you were doing, but you couldn't stop. Your bare feet led you from your bed and Azriel, down the ten thousand steps, and through rocky terrain of the mountainside. You walked and walked, feet bleeding until you came to the small rock crevice in the side of the mountain.  You fought yourself, your mind panicked. Your body squeezed between the crack though, and you tried to reach down your bond to Azriel again. A dark shadow that was not him clamped down on your mind. Your panicked thoughts dissipated, and you couldn't remember why you were fighting anymore. You walked expertly down the worn path through the rocks, as if you'd walked it a million times before. The dripping walls let in a minimal cold whisk of air. And without thinking, you walked yourself into a cell at the end of the long hall. And sat in the center of it.  The priestess that locked the door behind you was withering. Her cheekbones sunk in, and the opal atop her head was gray, dull. "Welcome." She said, voice otherworldly.  + Azriel circled the mountain at least fifty times before he landed. Cassian was waiting for him at the small entrance they had found. "All clear, let's go." Azriel placed a hand on the pale rock and ducked his head inside. Cassian grabbed his wrist. "We need to be careful. Rhys cant help us once we go in there." He gave his brother a stern look. Azriel brushed off the concern, but nodded.  The path was well worn into the stone. And there was where Azriel picked up the first hint of your presence since you had been taken. His heart painfully kicked up speed. The blood on the floor was minimal, but it was there. Cassian noted it too, and set a pace too slow going forward. Azriel wished he could let his muscles be free to run straight down the long hall and find you. He listened to his brother though, trusting him more than his instincts. The sight of you was the biggest relief he'd ever had. Then, the biggest fear. Your eyes were dull, hollow. He tried reaching for your bond, but it was gray and limp. Like there was nothing at the other end of it. He called for you, then he was screaming down the tendril that once was light and happiness.  And nothing called back. Cassian's breath caught in his throat, Azriel turned to his brother. Shock was there in his eyes, and gut wrenching terror.

 A dark spindling shadow was curling around him, seeping the hazel from his eyes and replacing it with the same dull gray that stained yours. He was frozen. As hard as he tried, Cassian couldn't fight the tinging fog that possessed him. It crept into his mind "Hello, lord of bloodshed...." They whispered to him. 

 Azriel threw himself at his brother, knocking the shadows away with his siphons. His own dark mist fought the fog that slowly filled the room. The fight was intense between them, Az's darkness was losing. They sputtered to life and kept them at bay while Cassian recovered from the shadowsinger's blow. "Go. Take my mate and run." Azriel growled at him.  Cassian's eyes went wide, and he glanced to the cell where you sat. He and Azriel went into action at the same time, Azriel striking the dark figure that seeped down from the ceiling. Human in shape, but it revelaed nothing beyond that. It was a ghost, a large demon waiting to strike. It hovered over the Illyrians, and they began a fight against a shadow itself.

It was a trap. Idiot. His mind screamed at him. Cassian blasted his shield out, knocking your cell door out of the way. You didn't move. Az's stomach flipped, his eyes piercing you. But you did not feel it. You didn't feel a damned thing, even as your mind thrashed against the control the demon had. "Shadows will free you...." The dark tendrils whispered into your mind. Then, the room went totally dark. Ravik's power coursed through the ancient stone walls. Cassian barreled into the fight with his brother, shoving the dark figure back. The black clouds swirled around their fighting forms. It grew and grew until Az couldn't see his own siphons anymore. 

He gave a final scream down your bond, latching on to that link and pulling. Then he saw the fog there. The layer that overtook your thoughts. "Spread this sickness. Spread the knowledge. Love the Master." They chanted. It made his stomach coil. He went deeper into your mind and pushed, pushed out and kept that shadow away long enough for you to do the rest yourself. You shoved and fought and kicked it away. Your mind was exhausted, but you held onto Az's cool grip like it was a tether to reality. Then, you saw everything clearly again.  The darkness that encapsulated the two Illyrians avoided you. Like a bubble, they spared you from the blindness that kept Az and Cas from killing their target. You saw the golden sword strapped to Az's back instead of Truth Teller. And the reason they freed you instead of fighting first became clear. You took the sword from its sheath and shoved it into the figure between the brothers. Morrigan's sword sputtered light through the dark folds of the shadows. It hissed and popped, then.. it was gone. The shadows consumed it, then the golden light started seeping from every corner of the room. The light was blinding, then it was ringing. The piercing sound rattled the floor, then the walls. The sound of rock cracking and reforming was loud only for a second. Az felt the blood running down his jaw from his ears. His shadows turned him into wind itself. He took you and Cassian with him, and led him winnowed out of the crumbling mountainside. His wings flared, keeping you from plummeting to the ground together on the exit. Cas was right beside him, used to the strange feeling of Azriel's form of winnowing.  The ground shook where you landed on the coast line. The morning light shone through the dust that erupted from the top and side of the mountain. The house of wind on the diagonal side remained intact. But the opposing side collapsed, rolling boulders and trees and dirt all the way down to the ocean. The waves could not stand against such a force. Cassian kept a shield up just in case. Cries of terror sounded from Velaris. Az fell to his knees in the wet sand, and hid his face in his palms.  "Az... It's okay." You breathed, falling to his side with him. "Where's-" "He's gone. I can feel it. You killed him." You said with a hysterical laugh. The memories of being locked in the cell seemed dim now. Azriel stared at the trees and dirt falling, revealing the inside of the mountain that bordered Velaris. He tugged on the bond and you smiled, pulling him close to you. He rested his head on your shoulder as you observed the destruction together.  "I'll check for any injured..." Cassian took off, flying high above the ruins once they settled. Winged pets of the Hewn city began flying out of the mountain. Rhys was landing beside you and Az in an instant. "This is coming out of your paychecks." He said with a smile. Az couldn't spare one back. The terror of what he had released into Prythian dampened the mood. "We killed it. We did this." You spoke softly to him. Trying to ease the guilt he felt. He brushed you off. "As if you had a choice. It was a trap for Cass and I. One that I fell into so easily that-" You shook him through the bond, jarring him out of his despair. "Dont be so self centered." You thought, the tingle of a wink flowing through you. His feelings were a mask to you. "Dont do that." You were getting more and more frustrated with him by the second.  You caught him by the hand and wrapped around him in the sand, not caring if you got dirty. The ocean behind you roared and crashed, fighting against the new land that had spilled into it. "He already owes Mor another sword, take it easy on him." Cassian joked with the high lord. He landed with a softness that left the sand dry where his wings swooped down. The sheer power of him was waiting for its turn to be let loose. You could tell by those siphons flaring repeatedly.  Az's were dull. You clamped down on your frustration. Cassian began his report. "Some of the.. darker monsters wont live. But the smarter ones are already tunneling down. The court of Nightmares seems to be waiting it out." He spoke with expertise, staring as the dust settled on the mountainside.  The four of you stared at the ruined hillside for a long while. There were no injuries. No deaths. the cave in was so far from the borders of the Hewn city that the worst damage done was a few broken sculptures inside the throne room. The dust finally settled and you still watched, even as night fell. Rhys left to deal with the repercussions of the madness, but Azriel stayed wrapped around you, peeking at the ruin every now and then. He tried to hold back the waves of fear and shame that threatened to overtake him. You felt them there, and didn't push him. Cassian's breath caught. Then, a few brave souls ventured out of the tunnel systems that had been exposed. You watched tensely, observing how the group behind them reacted. They marveled at the twilight sun setting over the ocean. Rhys flew high above them, circling. Ready to destroy if they threatened the city. After a few moments of staring at the ocean and outside world, they turned back inside.  The high lord landed besides you again, his power blooming from him. Waiting to be released. Rhys sighed, and folded his wings in. "The court of nightmares just may be the new twin city of Velaris." 

#ACOTAR FIC #AZRIEL X READER

[midday0nightmares]

20 - 10th of may (m).

previous chapter his revenge.

m.list.

warnings: this series contains themes of yandere\mafia, blood, violence, mental health, drugs, non-con.

author note: this is pure fiction and it is not intended to romanticize any of the situations mentioned bellow.

Waking up in his bed, surrounded by his musky scent, soaking in his warmth, you don’t open your eyes yet as you roll towards the man next to you, wanting to snuggle deeper into him, but he throws the covers off flooding you with the unwelcome cold air as he gets up.

You can’t help but to frown at the lose of his warmth, he doesn’t notice you yet. 

You hug the soft duvet, bringing it closer to your nose to enjoy the remains of his smell, he goes through getting ready to start his day, his wild bed-hair and puffy face completely melts your heart, it is official, you are in love.. or maybe just needy and half asleep.

He comes out of the bathroom, face washed, teeth brushed, shirt off.. your breathing wavers and you squeeze your legs in a weak attempt to calm the pulsating heat in your core, the cotton shorts hung too low on his toned waits, showcasing the hairy trail that dips under the waistband, his toned chest and board shoulders making your mouth waters, you want him with every fiber in you, you want him in you in any way he choses, you just want him.

He continues to get dressed, he catches your dazed eyes staring at him in the mirror and he only chuckles, you comply to the urge to hide your face as a shy blushes blooms over it.

He clasps his watch and tightens his necktie before he turns and looks you straight, your heart inflates and your skin tingles awaiting his touch. he walks towards you and you roll on your back to open yourself to him, hopefully he’ll come closer. he removes the covers off of you and indulge himself in your body, his eyes follows every curved lined your body makes, your feminine ego flourish under his hungry gaze, he smirks at your restless thighs, how they were rubbing against each other. 

His hand land on your bent knee and slides down your thigh, barley touching you spreading goosebumps all over, you relaxes your legs to welcome the long waited attention but he ignores the invitation and ghosts his fingers over your hip bone up your stomach to in between your breasts to finally stops when they grab your cheeks, your hands snake around his arm, desperately clinging to him, you chase your breaths as lust rages inside of you, he awaits for your eyes to sober and focus on him, he leans down closer to your face, and you close your eyes eager for his lips to kiss your, but they don’t. he shakes your head by the hand that was still firmly holding your cheeks, his fingers tightens on your jaw “open..” His commands you, his eyes glued to your lips, you open your mouth without hesitation. “wider” his fingers digs into the soft flesh, and when you do he spits into your mouth, the act catching you by surprise for a split second before instinct takes over and you melt his spit over your tongue before you swallow it. He lets go of you, satisfied with your reaction “behave while I’m gone” his authoritative tone sends shivers down your spine, he makes you feel small as he straightens his tall stature above you, everything about him tambours with your heartbeat, he pulls his arm out of your grasp discarding your unvocalized protests, and just like that he was gone.

His tastes still lingers in your mouth, sweet as ever, you were reduced to a needy mess, wanting nothing more than to be used, consumed and ruined by him, you were his obedient girl who will wait for him.

You tossed and turned in his sheets, head swimming with thoughts of him until you slipped back to sleep.

..

When you woke up, you pushed the embarrassment at your behavior this morning and got up. 

now that your head had cleared up thanks to the strong bitter taste of the coffee, you couldn’t help the thousand questions from poping in your mind about last night, you realized how little you actually know about them and you took it as your next mission, to collect information about the “enemy”.. after all, knowledge is power right? right.

You go back to jaemin’s room to start looking for clues, you skip the locked safe as you have zero chance in opening it, you try his computer but it’s locked with password, you try to think of any names or numbers that might hold any significance to him but you don’t even know his birthday so how would you know, you abandon it and turn to his drawers, you go through them one by one, nothing.

 you ask yourself where would someone hide thier important belongs? You look around the room wondering, until under his bed comes in view, you get on your knees and pear under it and you find it. A dusty shoe box, you take it out, it looks old and abandoned, you open it and to your disappointment it is filled with first aids, but before you close the lid something catches your attention, you almost missed it, an old diary book.

You take it out and open it, most of the pages are untouched and the ones that are used have meaningless scrambles that looks like someone would mindlessly make, you flip through it and a picks of folded news paper that falls out of it, you open it and it is a news article, the titles reads ,

“The Wife of A Drug Lord Was Found Dead”

It can’t be his mother, can it? The date on the article is may 10th 2020, an exact year before you were brought here, your eyes skim through the lines of the long paragraph,

“... she was found dead in front of her apartment building. Her death was caused by serious craniocerebral injuries mainly due to the sever impact after falling from high place, followed by... she developed mental illness after her child birth..neighbors refused to corporate .. one suspect was brought into questioning, but there was no sufficient evidences to charge him.. her death was rolled as suicide.. no suicide note was found”

The article ends, you still in shock of what you’ve just read. A rush of dreadful emotions washs over you as you try to blink away the tears that were forming in your eyes. your heart breaks for him, no one deserves to go through this type of pain.

You fold it and put everything back into its place, deciding you have had enough information for today, guilt bubbling in your stomach as you contact the dots as to why he reacted the way he did when you were talking about the cat that have jumped off of the balcony, your stupid imagination dug up a the painful memory of his late mother, poor jaemin. 

..

When they return, jaemin corners you in the hallway, before he  whispers to you "have you been behaving?".. 

the blood rushing to your cheeks turning them red, you avoid his shameless eyes and nod, your heartbeat races in excitement, the familiar fire of desire rages yet again,

"yeah? let me check.." he slips his hand into your panties to be met with sticky mess, product of his doing .. “jaemin, not here jeno can see us” you try to push his hand away but he doesn’t move an inch, instead pushing himself closer to you. “let him see” his voice is muffled by your neck “let him see what a dirty girl you are” he bites your neck and starts massaging your swelling clit, your knees almost betray, you claw his shoulders silently begging him for more, but again he withdraw his hand and laughs at your frustrated whine.

#nct yandere #nct dream #nct mafia #nct smut #nct jaemin #nct reactions #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct blurbs

[flowercrown-bard]

I have another prompt for you! Do with it ehat you want. It rested way too long in my "Ideas I never use" box:

"I don't even care about my own life, why would I care about yours? I am a fucking pheonix, my dear, death is just like an insect to me – It stings, but has no lasting effect"

(maybe it's fitted for a Fey!Jaskier? Or Ageless!Jaskier? Or a Villain?)

Ohhh I love that prompt! Thank you!! <3 (shame on me, i left out the word 'fucking' bc it didn't fit the vibe of the fic. Hope it's still ok)

I again have no idea what I'm doing, but where would be the fun in knowing what's going on in my own writing XD

word count: 4884

content warnings: brief mention of blood, brief mention of injury, temporary character death (for about two seconds), burning alive (kind of)

There was something in this forest that didn’t belong here.

Hasty steps disturbed the birds’ songs and heavy panting cut through the illusion of safety that lay over this land like a fog.

The girl running through the woods threw a glance over her shoulder, a haunted expression on her face. Her feet caught on a protruding root and with a cry that pierced the air like an arrow, she fell onto her hands and knees.

Her scream carried on, long after she had closed her lips again. The echo started out as a whisper, then it grew louder and louder, became a symphony of fear and desperation. The sound of one who was truly lost.

Then again, all who found this forest were lost in one way or another.

And though they might not realise it, no one was ever truly alone in these woods.

Inhuman blue eyes watched from the shadows of the underbrush as the girl curled in on herself, lying on the forest floor in a heap of helplessness.

With slow steps that fell onto the earth silently as a sigh, Dandelion took off their cloak of shadow and approached the lost girl in front of them. As they came closer, they lightly hummed a melody, a soft lullaby made of wishes and dreams.

Slowly, the girl’s shuddering breaths evened out and some of that tension that held her in a vice-like grip, eased out of her shoulders.

“Child,” Dandelion spoke softly, in a voice that was bird song and trees swaying in the wind.

The girl looked up. For a moment, she didn’t seem to comprehend what was kneeling before her. Then, within the blink of an eye, she scrambled backwards, terror etched onto her face.

“You don’t need to fear me,” Dandelion said softly, holding their hands up.

“Why should I believe you?” The girl’s hands wandered across the forest floor until the closed around a branch lying next to her. Though fear twisted her face, she held the branch in front of her like a sword.

Dandelion cocked their head to the side, a smile flickering over their face. This girl was brave. Most lost people were, but there was something about her…something other. Something elder.

“You can believe me, because I can’t lie.”

“You’re not human.” The girl’s gaze wandered over Dandelion. They could nearly feel how her eyes raked over his claws that were just a little too sharp to pass as human, over their blonde locks that nearly had the colour of the flower they had named themselves after; the name yet another fruitless attempt to become more than they were. They were so close to being human. Still, despite centuries searching, they hadn’t found the right them yet. Not in this life and not in any that had come before.

“I am not,” they admitted and the words tasted like ash on their tongue. Always ash. Always fire and ambers. And yet, nothing more than a small sting that would pass when the life engulfed them in another embrace. Another chance.

“Then what are you?”

Dandelion lowered themselves to the ground, until they were at eye level with the girl. Carefully, they reached out their hand, an offer, an invitation.

“I am a Home for the Lost. Another Chance.”

“I am not lost!” The girl sprang to her feet without warning, gripping the branch tighter. “I know where I’m going. I’m…I’m looking for someone.”

“And someone’s looking for you, I assume?”

The girl bit her lip while her eyes darted to the side again, scanning the trees as if whoever she was running from could jump out and attack her at any moment.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” Dandelion repeated. “You can be lost here for as long as you need to be.”

“What if I don’t want to be lost?”

Dandelion gave her a smile that they knew couldn’t reach their eyes. “Then I can keep you safe until you’re found again.”

“But you’re not him. The one who’s supposed to protect me.” The girl’s breath hitched. “Are you? You’re not Geralt of Rivia.”

Dandelion drew in a deep breath, tasting the name on their tongue as they inhaled. Their eyes fluttered close as the power of the name surged through them.

“I’m not,” Dandelion agreed. It wasn’t a lie. And yet, they felt a part of Geralt of Rivia’s being taking root within him. His name was theirs. His winding path, his doubts, his destiny. His losses. “But he will come here. I promise you that.”

“How can you? Have you seen him in these woods? I didn’t know he was in Brokilon forest.”

“This isn’t Brokilon forest. It stopped being that when I found you. And it doesn’t matter where Geralt of Rivia is. Not yet.” A breeze ruffled through the trees, whispering its secrets to its master. “He will be here. All woods lead here, when you go deep enough. When you get lost enough.”

If there was one certainty that pulsed through the name like a heartbeat, it was that Geralt of Rivia was lost, more than anyone Dandelion knew of. Except, of course, for the one person that Dandelion didn’t have the power to guide back to their right path. The one person who was given chance after chance after chance for a new start and yet never found their way out of the maze they were trapped in.

“He will come.” Their promise tasted like lightning and the soothing melody of a bubbling river. “You will be his second chance. Until then, let me be yours. I will keep you safe.”

The girl hesitated a moment longer. Then, she dropped the branch and flung herself into Dandelion’s arms, desperate not to be lost again.

Dandelion’s held her tightly, rapped his shadowy cloak around her and whispered soothingly into her hair. The embrace was like the feeling of when the fire stopped. At least that was how Dandelion imagined it must feel, when there were no flames coursing through their veins.

But they couldn’t truly know. After all, everyone was in this forest was lost in one way or another.

--

‘The girl in the woods will be with you always’

Renfri’s words echoed in Geralt’s mind as he limped onwards through the trees, ignoring the worried calls of the man who had taken him with him on his cart.

Geralt couldn’t waste a single moment longer by staying with him and his wife. His child surprise was out there somewhere, waiting for him. And Geralt…Geralt didn’t know what to do. He had to find her, had to make sure she was safe.

Yet he had no way of knowing where she even was, or if she was still alive. It was a miracle Geralt himself wasn’t dead yet.

You can be lost here.

Geralt’s head snapped up, his eyes darting across the trees sharply.

“Who’s there?” He called out. A mistake he wouldn’t have done if his mind had been clear and not muddled by ghoul poison.

For a long moment, there was no reply. Ever so slowly, Geralt tore his eyes from the darkness that lurked behind the trees. That’s when a different echo reached him.

Not Geralt of Rivia.

This voice sounded younger. Child-like.

“Ciri.” The name was but a breath on his lips, but he knew it in his heart to be true. Somehow, this voice was Ciri’s.

His staggering steps got faster, until he nearly ran. Geralt didn’t care about how the movement tore at his wound, how twigs whipped into his face, how his breath became shallow as black spots danced before his eyes.

He was urged onwards by the unbending certainty that Ciri was near, that he would finally find her.

People linked by destiny would always find each other.

But there was something else as well. A wildfire in his chest, a strand of shadow tugging him onward.

Geralt of Rivia.

The echo of his name rang through the woods, through the air and the inside of his head. Two voices. Ciri’s – and another one. A voice that sent shivers down Geralt’s spine.

The repeat of his name turned into a melody. A lullaby. A siren’s call.

Every instinct in him screamed to turn back, to get himself to safety. But instincts had been beaten out of him a long time ago.

His instinct had told him that his mother would take care of him.

His instinct had told him that he was loved.

His instinct had told him that there was nothing he could lose by calling upon the law of surprise.

But, oh, how he had lost. His mother, the woman he had thought he had loved, the certainty that he could keep walking the path that had been his only guidance since Vesemir had taken him to Kaer Morhen.

Geralt had lost, again and again, until he had become lost himself.

His chest became tight and he had to squeeze his eyes shut against the pressure building behind his eyes.

He was lost.

And yet he had no choice but to keep going. A haunting lullaby and his name on the wind forbid him from turning back.

He tried to orient himself on the rays of sun shining through the canopy of too-green leaves. Desperate to reach a path or a person that would make him not-lost again, Geralt ran until his breath turned into pants and his muscles protested. Witchers didn’t tire so easily. If need be, Geralt could fight for hours, stay up for days. Yet, no matter how much his body ached and protested, claiming it had been hours, days, weeks, the sun remained in his spot, never moving, as if no time was passing.

Geralt’s lungs were burning and the pain in his leg flared up with every step, until there were no more steps to take.

His knees gave out from under him and he collapsed, falling to his hands and knees onto the grass, the blades of which looked sharp as a sword but felt soft beneath his hands. Like a pillow to lay down on. Like an embrace. Like a home.

Witchers had no home. They only had the path, and yet, looking at this strange forest with its whispers and stagnant sun, Geralt had not even this.

“I am lost,” He called out, an act of pure desperation that never before had he allowed himself to admit to. His voice was raspy and scratched at his throat like shards of glass. As if he hadn’t uttered a single word for weeks.

Lost.

The haunting reply came in his own voice. A chill raced down Geralt’s spine and his fingers fisted into the grass, desperate to cling to something.

“I don’t know the way.”

Away.

An unshakable fear seized Geralt. He didn’t care how his voice broke, how his body was already broken.

“I need help.”

Witchers didn’t need help. They didn’t beg. And if they ever did, their pleas would go unheard.

Not so Geralt’s.

Something snapped to his right. He winced, his hand instinctively reaching for his silver sword. The medallion on his chest vibrated furiously.

He pushed himself to his feet, trembling with the effort, but unwilling to be on his knees like a condemned man waiting for his executioner.

The snapping of twigs and rustling of leaves stopped for a moment, a quiet laugh that sounded like water tumbling over rocks replaced the sounds.

“I found you.”

Geralt stiffened. It was the same voice as the first whisper he had heard – the voice that had lured him here. Only this time, it wasn’t a whisper on the wind. It was very real and far too close for comfort.

Witchers didn’t receive help. Whatever had answered his call must have darker intentions.

“Show yourself!” Geralt demanded, gripping his sword tighter.

For a moment, everything went still. No more whispers, no lullaby, not even the rustling of leaves in the wind.

Then, the bushes to Geralt’s right parted and someone stepped through. No, not someone. Something.

The creature in front of him looked how someone who had only ever seen a human’s shadow might imagine a human to look like. The being walking towards him was taller than any human could be, towering over Geralt. Their limbs were too long.

When their lips parted for a smile, the rows of teeth in them were sharp as a wolf’s.

“What are you?” The question left Geralt before he could think better of it.

The being cocked their head to the side curiously, too-blue eyes wandering over Geralt’s body, as if they didn’t even notice the sword pointed at them.

“I’m the Second Chance,” the being said, their eyes flashing with something Geralt didn’t dare name. “Yours, if you want me to be.”

“Who else’s second chance are you?” The question didn’t make sense, but Geralt had no control over his tongue. There was something about this creature – person? – that urged him to say things he didn’t understand. It was as if deep down, he already knew the answer, as if a part of him had known this person for a long time.

The being didn’t reply, but they raised their hands to their side and brushed lovingly over something. The air flickered in front of Geralt’s eyes, making him nauseous and dizzy, yet when he tried to look closer, he could only see shadow behind the creature. Until they flicked a hand behind them and the shadows parted, revealing a smaller figure. A girl with blonde hair that stared at Geralt with big green eyes.

Geralt sucked in a sharp breath.

It was Ciri. The one who had been lost to him.

And she was standing behind a creature powerful enough to lure even a witcher in. A creature who now placed a clawed hand on Ciri’s shoulder – the shoulder of the girl Geralt was sworn to protect.

“Let her go.” The demand left Geralt’s lips like a beast’s snarl.

“Go?” The being’s eyes flashed dangerously. “I made a promise to keep her with me. I don’t let any lost soul go.”

Their eyes bore into Geralt’s, searching through his soul, laying bare everything he was.

A boy, lost and abandoned by his mother.

A man who had lost a fight with the woman he thought he had loved – losing the fight, losing her, losing what he had been so sure had been love.

A human, who had lost his humanity.

Geralt, who was nothing but lost.

And there in front of him stood a creature who kept lost souls. The being sucked in a deep breath, closing their eyes as if they could taste all of Geralt’s losses.

They would keep him. Him and Ciri, damned forever to wander this cursed forest in which time stood still and echoes whispered into his heart.

He couldn’t let that come to pass. Not for Ciri.

Geralt knew his life was lost as well, even as he swung his sword. It didn’t matter. He had to save Ciri, had to get her out of this creature’s grasp.

There was a cry when his blade pierced the being’s chest. Was it his own cry or Ciri’s? Was the whole forest screaming as its master fell to their knees? There was only one voice who didn’t join the cry of agony. One, who was deadly silent, as life drained from it.

Blue eyes shot open, staring at the blade buried in the being’s chest with curiosity that quickly turned into resignation. For but a heartbeat, fear flickered in the being’s expression.

Fire blazed in those blue eyes. Fire poured forth from the wound instead of blood. Fire came to life in the being’s hair, searing the dandelion-yellow strands and racing over their body until all that was left of them was dancing flames.

Geralt watched in horror, as the flesh turned to ash before his very eyes. No, not ash. Dandelion seeds.

The wind picked up, tearing at Geralt’s hair, pushing him away, making the dandelion seeds tumble through the air in a wild dance.

Leaves tore from the trees, yellow flower petals, bits and pieces of the forest. All was dancing through the air, forming shapes and breaking apart again. The grass that had been so soft a moment before, shot up, grew faster and higher than any plant could, forming the shape of legs, of a torso, of a head. And still the leaves whirled through the air, obscuring the sight to the body that formed right in front of Geralt’s eyes.

A pit opened in Geralt’s stomach and the realisation of what this meant crashed into him with the force of a cockatrice slamming into its prey.

The being wasn’t dead. But it was only a matter of time before Geralt was, dying at the hand of the creature he couldn’t kill.

Geralt’s sword slipped out of his limp grasp, landing on the ground with a soft thud.

Geralt followed a moment after, his knees hitting the ground once more. This time, his executioner wouldn’t hesitate.

Geralt couldn’t protect his child surprise. Not in the years to come. But there was one thing he could do in this moment, one last act of desperation to save a life that he had always been meant to guard with his own.

“I make you a bargain!” Geralt’s voice got drowned in the howling of the wind, and yet, the ever-changing shape of the being turned towards him. Geralt’s throat went dry, his chest tightening. “My life for hers.” Through the whirlwind of leaves and blossoms, Geralt met Ciri’s gaze. Her eyes were wide and terrified. She was his to save. “Take my life and give the girl back hers. Let her go.”

Geralt bowed his head, awaiting judgement. For failing Ciri. For failing Vesemir and not being able to kill this creature. For failing himself. For losing, just when he had finally found the girl he had been looking for.

The wind didn’t falter, yet it changed course. The petals drew closer together, reaching towards Geralt like a hand.

A soft touch brushed his chin, tilting his head upwards, forcing him to look at the swirling shapes before him.

Though the being had no lips yet, their voice was clear and crushingly loud, coming from all around him. Every tree, every blade of grass, the very air spoke with the being’s voice. “Oh, but I don’t even care about my own life, why would I care about yours?”

Despite the roaring volume, the voice was achingly soft, like sweet nothings whispered in Geralt’s ear. The petals brushed Geralt’s cheek like a lover’s caress.

Geralt’s heart pounded in his chest, like a drum, growing faster each second, it’s rhythm dictated by the song that made this creature be.

“There must be something – how can a life be meaningless to you?” Geralt’s voice broke and his eyes flickered over to Ciri again. The child he hadn’t wanted. The life he had tried to push as far from his path as he could.

A sharp sound pierced the air, reverberating in Geralt’s bones. Only when it cut off abruptly, did Geralt recognise it. A laugh, devoid of life or joy.

“I am a phoenix, my dear.” The endearment cut into Geralt, broke him apart, made him wish that he could be more – that he could be found. “Death is just an insect to me – it stings, but has no lasting effect.”

“Liar.” The rasped out word cut through the symphony of sound.

Within the blink of an eye, everything around him stilled. The wind was still moving the petals and leaves. The being’s shape was still changing, and yet, there was no sound. Nothing, but Geralt’s own heartbeat and his blood rushing in his ears.

Then-

“What did you call me?”

It was only a single voice, within Geralt’s mind. A helpless desperation clung to it. A hunger.

“I called you a liar.”

“I cannot lie.”

Geralt’s jaw clenched and he forced himself to stare up at the swirling shape.

“Then you are a fool, if you truly believe your own words.” His hands trembled and he had to clench them into fists. Each word he spoke, dug his own grave deeper and yet, he couldn’t stop. It was as if there was something tying him to this creature, something telling him that he could know them, just as he was certain the creature knew him. “If death is like the sting of an insect to you, then it is more than just a passing irritation. Adults still remember when they had been stung by a bee as a child. Warriors flinch back from wasps, even knowing the stinging will pass. Gnat’s bites will itch for weeks.”

“Pretty words for a man who had first used his sword before attempting to speak. Yet the cut of your words hurts me as little as your sword did.” The caress of the petals left Geralt and he nearly found himself following their receding touch. “I do not care for my death, nor do I for my life.”

“Then why am I still alive? If life and death doesn’t matter to you, then why did you not just end mine?”

Unless…

I don’t even care about my own life, why would I care about yours?

They had never said they didn’t care about Geralt’s life. It had been a question – unable to either be a lie or a truth.

The only life they didn’t care about was their own.

It didn’t make sense. And yet, as minutes, days, an eternity passed and the being still hadn’t taken on a new shape, a vessel for their new life, no doubt was left in Geralt’s mind.

“Then let me give you something else,” Geralt whispered, his mind racing. In the stories, the creatures entrapping children in their realm and bargaining for their lives only ever wanted one thing. “If you let her go, I will give you my name.”

Something changed in the air. An almost palpable tension pressed down on Geralt, making it hard to notice anything around him but the dancing petals.

“Oh, my White Wolf.” The name the being spoke wasn’t Geralt’s name, and yet Geralt felt a tugging in his chest, a soothing caress, a gentle promise. It felt like his. And it felt like the being’s. “I already have your name.”

“Then what do you want? What…” Geralt trailed off, only now noticing the hint of something heavy in the being’s voice. It had Geralt’s name. Yet, Geralt had no way of referring to the creature. He didn’t know them. Perhaps no one did. “Then I give you permission to tell me your name. You may let me get to know you. You may ask to not be…to not be lost without anyone knowing who you are.”

Yearning. Hope. Helplessness.

How a being without a form could make their emotions so apparent, was beyond Geralt, but there was no denying it. The air felt lighter, the grass brighter and the silence was replaced by a soft humming, not unlike the lullaby Geralt had heard earlier. The forest was pulsating like a heart, was living off of the being’s longing to be found.

“I can’t give you my name,” the being said. “I can’t ask of you to hear it. I don’t want you to know it. I care not for my life, nor any life I’ve lived before.”

Something rose in Geralt’s chest. A fluttering, a certainty.

People linked by destiny would always find each other. This wasn’t destiny. It wasn’t any outside force pushing them together. It was two people being lost, finding each other.

Two creatures, inhuman in their own way, feared by those who didn’t understand with no one to care enough about who they were. Neither of them had had a choice in who they wanted to become. Neither of them had chosen to be lost as they were.

The witcher, who’s name had been replaced by a hated moniker. People didn’t know him as Geralt. He was the Butcher of Blaviken.

And this being before him - this Second Chance? Who had they been? Who could they have been if they had the chance to start a life that wasn’t dictated by what they were meant to be?

“I can be your second chance,” Geralt prayed that he could be what he promised, knowing in his heart that he could. “If you won’t take my name and won’t tell me yours… I can give you a name. A new life that will be more than an itch left by an insect. More than the fear of that short sting that will end it.”

The yellow petals were back on Geralt’s face, cupping his cheeks almost reverently. In that moment, Geralt wasn’t a condemned man on the execution block anymore. He was a man on his knees, asking another being to start a new life, to bind them together in a way that felt utterly right for a reason Geralt couldn’t understand.

There was a plea in the silent touch.

“Tell it to me then.” The voice was quieter than it had been before, yet it felt more urgent than the loudest cry.

Geralt lifted his hand, laying it carefully onto the petals touching his cheeks. Yellow petals. Not tough like a dandelion forcing its way through stone paths, set on coming back to life again and again. No, these petals were different. Softer. Fragile.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, his voice laced with power he hadn’t known it could possess. Louder, he repeated, “Jaskier. I have found you. You are no longer lost.”

A tremble went through the forest. The wind stilled, but the petals didn’t fall to the ground. Instead, they finally settled on a shape.

The petals caressing Geralt’s cheeks were the first to turn, their touch becoming more solid, warmer, human.

Geralt pressed into the touch, holding the hand that formed in his. Dizziness swept over him as the form before him solidified. Green leaves turned brown as they did in autumn and turned into hair. Petals became red and gave shape to a mouth that was stretched into a radiant smile. Grass turned into fabric, dressing the person whose life was just beginning in an embroidered doublet. A tree bent down, its bark peeling off and turning into an instrument, that the person deftly caught in one hand, the other never straying from Geralt’s face.

Then, the human opened their eyes. Blue again but lacking the eerie otherness. And yet, they were brighter than before, so full of life and for once filled with anticipation of what this life would bring.

This life that Geralt had given them.

Before Geralt stood no longer a phoenix, a creature with no name. They were their own second chance. They were Jaskier.

Even as Ciri rushed from behind Jaskier and flung herself into Geralt’s arms, the witcher couldn’t tear his eyes away from Jaskier.

The new human looked at Ciri with a fond expression on their face, and yet there was a strain around their eyes.

When their gazes met, Jaskier’s lips tugged into a small smile.

“I guess I kept my promise then,” they said in a voice that held no power, but made Geralt’s heart skip a beat nonetheless. “I kept he safe until she was found.”

Geralt’s brows drew together. “You intended to let her go? Then why –“

“I didn’t bargain her life,” Jaskier said softly. “She was free to go whenever she pleased. I – I wasn’t. You gave me my life and I give it back to you. If you want it.”

Without thinking, Geralt shook his head and tightened his arms around Ciri.

“I don’t want your life. It is yours.”

“Oh.”

Jaskier’s lips moved silently, forming the word ‘mine’, as if testing it out for the first time. A smile lit up their face, making their eyes brighter.

“If my life is mine, does that mean, I can choose where I want to go?”

Something twisted in Geralt’s chest at those words. “You are.” Had Jaskier only ever known this forest? If so… “Do you know any place besides this? Will you…if you leave on your own, will you get lost again?”

A gleam entered Jaskier’s eyes and they slung the strap of their lute around their neck, their fingers finding the strings of their new lute.

“I won’t,” they said, their face set in conviction. “Because if I get to choose where I am going, I will be following you, Geralt of Rivia, my White Wolf.”

Unlike before, there was no power to the way Jaskier spoke his name.

“White Wolf?”

Jaskier’s lips twitched and he plucked a couple of chords experimentally. “You have me a new name. If you don’t want my life, the least I can do is return the favour and give you a new one two. A name, people won’t curse. One that will no longer belong to a lost man.”

No longer a Butcher. No longer a mutant, bastard, monster!

Slowly, Geralt nodded. “A life for a life, then.”

“A life for a life.” Jaskier’s expression softened. “A name for a name.”

Two lost people finding each other, silently promising each other to do everything in their power to not let the other get lost again.

#thank you for the prompt!! #fae!jaskier #fey!jaskier #*gestures vaguely*!Jaskier #geralt of rivia #geralt #jaskier #creature!jaskier #fic #my writing #witcher #the witcher #witcher fic #prompt #ciri #geraskier #kinda #i have no idea what this is but it was fun to write

[silverstarlightwrites]

An alternate AU to this one that occurred to me just now

Team Seven take the mission to the Land of Waves. On the bridge, they fight Zabuza and Haku.

On the bridge, Naruto dies.

Something in Sasuke breaks, and he goes berserk. Haku and their ice mirrors scream as they flashboil in the black flames Sasuke summons forth, and it takes only a howl and a wild gesture to send Amaterasu blazing across the bridge to consume Zabuza and Tazuna as well. The stone melts underneath them, while Kakashi snatches up Sakura and flees, and it’s not until Sasuke feels the weight of wet clothes - crushing Naruto’s body to his chest, bloody and so absurdly hot - that he realises the bridge has disintegrated, and the water is burning.

It’s instinct and desperation that let Sasuke to douse the fires he’s conjured, and even then it aches and tastes like blood and acid, and he’s sinking when Kakashi whips across the surface to catch him, the moment the flames are gone.

Sasuke cries into Naruto’s chest, and refuses to let go. Sakura is cold and silent, and she neither speaks nor eats for the grim, slow trek back to Konoha. And it is slow, even further drawn out by the constant fluctuation of chakra from Naruto’s corpse, carried awkwardly and painfully by Sasuke alone.

It’s not Naruto’s chakra, of course. Kakashi dreads the inevitable questions, resolves not to lie when they come, and somehow their absence is even worse.

The moment they walk through the southern Konoha gate, there are Anbu all over them. They pry Naruto’s body from Sasuke’s arms, despite his shouting and kunai, despite the way Sasuke’s eyes ignite into blood red to fight-- But he doesn’t summon Amaterasu again, doesn’t expend the chakra he doesn’t have to try and kill their own. Sakura touches his shoulder, just two fingers, and her face is pale and hollow when she shakes her head, but it’s still more interaction than she’s allowed for the whole trip, and Sasuke obeys her. Blinks his eyes black, slumps in place, and then sags against Sakura.

She catches him, and he’s shaking, and she stares over his shoulder, unblinking, at the Anbu wrapping Naruto’s corpse in chakra-absorbing paper scrawled endlessly with Seals.

Kakashi isn’t sure what she sees, and he isn’t sure he wants to know.

One Anbu stays behind, and they instruct the gutted remains of Team Seven that the Hokage wants to see them. Kakashi can’t bring himself to intervene when Sasuke snarls and lunges, or when Sakura lets him. Doesn’t step in when Sasuke tells them to Fuck Off or when he punches them weakly in the chest - and the Anbu clearly thinks he’s simply not going to get involved, because when they try to catch Sasuke’s wrist they aren’t expecting Kakashi to move. Too fast to be safe, too fast for the chakra use not to burn.

Sasuke leans back into Kakashi as the Anbu trips, and Kakashi feels himself close his hands on Sasuke’s shoulders. “Don’t touch my kids,” he hears himself hiss, and if he doesn’t quite know when he accepted them as his then he doesn’t quite care either.

One of them is dead, and they won’t be permitted to mourn him properly because of the beast caged inside him without his knowledge.

The thought makes Kakashi sick. It all does, all of it. Konoha’s abuse of an innocent child, Kakashi’s complicitness in allowing it to happen. Hiruzen’s cruelty in allowing it also.

In allowing all of it.

Sasuke has lost enough.

The Anbu doesn’t need telling twice, and they leave Kakashi to cajole his kids into seeing Hiruzen. It takes more effort than he’d care to admit. Just physically, the three of them are a wreck - and it’s worse emotionally. Mentally.

“You let them take him.”

It’s the first thing Sakura has said since Naruto died - in a burst of blood and scarlet chakra - and Kakashi suddenly thinks he’s never felt anything so cold as her voice. When he meets her gaze, it’s like drowning.

“I had to. The Hokage will explain.” Because Kakashi is bound not to. By an oath that maybe he shouldn’t have taken, by a promise extracted by force. Why shouldn’t he tell them?

He doesn’t, of course. He scoops Sasuke up, and despises that Sasuke simply allows it, and offers Sakura a hand as they start walking. Sakura ignores it, striding ahead with her back too stiff and her hands clenched too tight. The walk to the Hokage Tower, while significantly shorter, is the same as the trip from Waves to Konoha.

Hiruzen ushers them into his office, tearful, and Sasuke struggles stiffly out of Kakashi’s grip. Red flickers and whorls through his eyes, and it’s impossible to know if he’s fighting to ignite his Sharingan or if he’s fighting not to.

“I’m sorry.” It’s low and mournful and wet. It’s insulting.

Sakura snaps. She flies into a rage, screaming obscenities. Her teammate is dead, and she’s never experienced loss like this before, and gods but she watched it happen, and no pitiful, pathetic ‘I’m sorry’ can ever undo that. That Hiruzen even tries sends her over the edge.

Nobody stops her. By the time she burns out, the office is torn apart, papers scattered everywhere and the desk overturned. Sakura has scratched her nails bloody against the woodwork. When she collapses to the floor and howls, Sasuke finally approaches her, sinks to her level, and wraps his arms around her.

Perhaps he understands, then. Perhaps a hug - so tight as Sakura clings back that it may be the only thing holding her together - is all he wanted after the horror of his clan’s slaughter.

Kakashi catches himself wondering if Sasuke ever got that hug, but he knows the answer.

Of course he didn’t.

Hiruzen explains to them what a Jinchuriki is. He explains the basic concept of a Bijuu, and gives them a short summary of the Nine-Tails. They take it blankly, too much to process over the top of their raw grief, but they look to Kakashi as if searching for confirmation and Kakashi nods. Tells them it’s true.

And then, because it’s not enough, it’s pathetic an explanation, he hears himself continue.

Because “He deserved better. We failed him.” Hears it spin, feels more than sees the way Sasuke and Sakura twitch and shrink, and then corrects himself. His own voice is like tar in his throat.

“You failed him.”

Sasuke and Sakura follow him out of Hiruzen’s office, and Hiruzen doesn’t try to stop them.

Kakashi sets the pack to watch them when they all end up at the war memorial. It wasn’t exactly a decision to go there, of course, but it never really is. All eight ninken are there already when they arrive, and they encourage Sakura and Sasuke to collapse and curl up with them, but Kakashi resists. He has something else to do.

And it’s dark by the time he comes back, his kids and his pack all bundled up in his far-too-tiny apartment, but he wakes them all the same. Demanding Naruto’s body back hadn’t been easy or clean, and the results of the chakra-draining done to preserve as much of the stray Nine-Tails chakra bleeding out of where it had torn free upon Naruto’s death is... messy.

Naruto’s body stays wrapped up the way Kakashi walked out of the Anbu Blue Vault with it. Only his head is visible, and his hair is knotted and matted with blood and oil, but it doesn’t stop Sakura from running her hands through it, or Sasuke from laying his head against Naruto’s chest.

Not enough people come to Naruto’s funeral. The whole fucking Village should mourn him, the child who protected them from the Nine-Tails for his entire, short life. His loss should have been overwhelming - it should have brought all of Konoha to a fucking stop.

But it doesn’t. Umino Iruka attends, and he’s quiet but he weeps ceaselessly the whole day. Sakura and Sasuke seem to welcome his presence, so Kakashi doesn’t nothing to discourage it.

Hiruzen shows up, perhaps halfway through. It takes all of Kakashi’s still-wan strength to hold Sakura back from trying to maul him, and Sasuke doesn’t fight one way or another when he lights up his Sharingan at the Hokage’s approach.

“Go. Away,” Sasuke snarls at him, and for just a moment it seems like Hiruzen might scold the boy, who’s been stripped of his family in half a dozen different ways, over and over again, as if he’s expressing his grief incorrectly, and that moment is all it takes for Kakashi to speak over all of them.

It’s the voice he used as the Hound. He hasn’t heard it for years. “You should go, Hokage-sama. You don’t want to make me choose a side here.”

Because Kakashi is loathe to fight Konoha at all, let alone its leader, but he knows without a doubt that he will. For Sasuke. For Sakura. If ever the decision must be made, Kakashi knows he will turn on Hiruzen in an instant if it would protect his kids from ending up like him.

Konoha would not make a broken blade out of Sasuke. It would not strip Sakura of her soul.

Orochimaru comes. He seeks out Sasuke, and the power he offers is too tempting for Sasuke to pass up - but he refuses to sneak away in the dead of night. Team Seven’s progress has halted in the aftermath of Naruto’s death; Hiruzen has tried several times to full the gap in their unit, but Sakura and Sasuke vehemently refuse to accept one, and Kakashi does not make them. He will not.

Naruto cannot be replaced. The gap can never be sufficiently filled.

And so comes the morning that Sasuke asks for their company in leaving. He’s been suffocating under Konoha’s weight for a long time, Kakashi realises that morning, and he’s finally reached his limit. Kakashi doesn’t try to talk him out of it; he won’t succeed. There’s no point. Revenge has been his motivation for so long that Sasuke will never quite learn how to give it up, and now he has so much more for which to seek vengeance.

It will only be Itachi first. After that, all of Konoha is culpable for Naruto’s death, and the endless suffering he endured before it. Kakashi is not fool enough to think he can change Sasuke’s mind.

Sakura agrees on the spot. She’s unrecognisable from the bubbly genin Kakashi took custody of from the Academy. She’s gaunt and messy and angry, and she’s forsaken her friends in order to follow Sasuke into the dark. She’s clinging to him, ferociously, in a different way than she’d tried to before.

She’s clinging to Sasuke the same way Kakashi had clung to Rin - how Rin had clung right back - after Obito’s death. Sasuke is her constant, her reassurance that Naruto’s absence won’t just be for nothing, that someone is going to pay for it. That she’s going to help make that happen.

You don’t want to make me choose a side, Kakashi had told Hiruzen, as if they were words of fucking prophecy. Because here are his kids, minds made up, choosing a side that Kakashi would rather flay himself than join - and yet, here he is too, and he knows already he’s going to go with them.

Choosing against Konoha tastes like ozone and fear and self-loathing, but choosing against Sasuke and Sakura is unconscionable. Even this, even this, Kakashi will do. Watching them die is a terror that keeps him up at night, a nightmare with its hands around Kakashi’s throat, a dread that’s getting ever colder. That this might lead to that outcome takes his breath away.

But the thought of not being there is even worse. Konoha forsook Sasuke when his family was wiped out, and Konoha forsook them both once again when they came home bloodied and shattered. Konoha has gone on the same as always, as if nothing even happened, and it always has when the whole world was supposed to shatter and didn’t - with Obito’s eye in Kakashi’s skull and Rin’s blood on Kakashi’s hands - and that truth does absolutely nothing to stay Sasuke’s hatred or Sakura’s wrath. They are young and angry and wounded, and there is no words Kakashi can say that will convince them to reject the power on offer, no matter how dangerous and untrustworthy the source may be.

And he refuses to let them do this alone. Everyone will want their heads, but Kakashi has fought and killed the best of them, and if - in the end - his only purpose is to protect his remaining kids, where he failed to protect the third, then perhaps the Hound yet serves a purpose still.

So Kakashi selects a kunai, and helps them score through their Konoha hitai-ite, and lets them lead him into hell.

#StarlightLion #Starlight Writes #Naruto #Team Seven #Hatake Kakashi #Uzumaki Naruto #Uchiha Sasuke #Haruno Sakura #look don't @ me #I don't even know #I had a half-formed thought and just went buck wild with it #it's 3:30am and I haven't read this post back but fuck it #angsty au time #Naruto dies and it breaks each and every one of them #Kakashi would sacrifice anything - ANYTHING - for his kids #and he will #and it won't save them #but maybe. if they're lucky. and the universe is kind. #maybe the three of them can save each other #also let's not talk about where Kurama is reforming or what he's gonna get up to once he's done XD

[angry-geese]

Risotto Nero x Reader

Warnings: 18+ NSFW towards the end. Pretty vanilla. Lots of fluff. Fem!reader

Notes: Risotto lives au because I am in denial about Vento Aureo's ending. Reader got pregnant around the ending of VA, she escapes the mafia. This takes place six years after the events of VA

sorry for posting so much of this guy but i have rice man brainrot

Lucky was not something you ever considered yourself to be.

Few ever lived long enough to leave. Even fewer managed to stay out of the life long.

Maybe Don Giovanna took pity on you. Or maybe it was just that: luck. 

You were certain of one thing: fleeing Italy was the best thing you'd ever done.

Half of Passione would consider you a traitor. The other half wanted you dead out of spite. Your line of work left a long list of enemies. Those you couldn’t pay off or intimidate, you killed. Tying up loose ends was a gruesome- but necessary- part of the job.

Your family never questioned where you went for all those years. It was an unspoken rule to not mention it. You were considered a dead man the moment you joined. Long ago they stopped expecting their daughter to be alive, waiting for the day Passione would send you back in pieces.

Your daughter was born six months after you arrived home.

Years passed and you slowly realized that hitmen would never come, no strange men ever appeared outside your home, the shadows in the corner of your room were only that: shadows. Your family was safe, or appeared as such.

It felt natural to settle into family life. You took a job working at a local bookstore. Your mother would watch Maria- named after Risotto’s cousin- while you worked. Your father grew old and frail, eventually passing from his age. It was sad but expected, and quickly glossed over by the rest of your life.

She's grown to look quite like him, with her silver hair and skin deepened by the Mediterranean sun. It makes you wonder if she'll grow to be nearly as tall. 

Despite the domesticity of it all, there was a fear that never quite left you. A knife you never slept without, locks you couldn't help but triple check at night, hiding spaces you'd check out of paranoia that someone was there.

You never lied to your daughter about who her father was. Not that you told the entire truth, just the parts a five-year-old could understand: he loves her, but he’s not around anymore.

A knock at the door makes you jump.

Not wanting the sauce for dinner to scald, you leave it. If its anyone important, they’ll come in.

Six years is a long time. Maybe not in the grand scheme of things. But in five- families build, kids go from children to teens leave the bubbles their parents stuck them in. All these life changing events take place.

Risotto can’t deny the anxiety that gnaws at him. Your house vaguely resembles the little Italian villa you two owned. Though that one was long destroyed, burned down when you fled. Seeing the lush garden- planted with all the little flowers you like, with step stones painted rather messily as if done by a child- makes something deep in his chest ache.

One of the last things Risotto expects to open the door is a little girl. A girl that looks a lot like you.

Its as if he’s paralyzed. She’s about five- you would have been pregnant around the time you disappeared. He can’t say he wasn’t warned. Its not that you were ever unfaithful, its just that no matter how many times he’s tried to steel himself for this day, he can’t.

“Papa?”

You were careful when describing him to her. He wasn’t much for photos. At the time neither were you. In Passione you had to be invisible, someone who wouldn’t leave a trace. Discretion was necessary, the only other option was death. Maybe having a child made you sentimental. You wanted more to remember him by than some old clothes and a wedding photo.

Having a child, while not technically against any rules within Passione, was a death sentence. It was one more thing they could hold against you, something they could hurt you with. Risotto’s line of work meant limiting that at all costs if you wanted to live to see the end of the year.

But he’s no longer one of the cogs in Passione’s machine. He’s just a man, and he can love you- the two of you- as such.

He gathers her up in his arms, holding her close. She smells like a perfume you used to wear, he notes. The thought of you being so close makes his heart race.

When you hear the door open, but no one enter, your mind goes to the worst. You rush to the door, kitchen knife in hand. But it’s no hitman sent to tie off a loose end. It’s something that hurts much worse.

Neither of you know how to respond. He’s relatively unchanged, though there’s a noticeable limp when he walks, and his shoulder that now aches when it rains. You’ve grown- gotten used to living as a civilian- but you have not turned soft. He notices a few grays, your scars have faded, smile lines dot at the corners of your mouth. Strong, sturdy, beautiful. All the things his nonna used to call him. It was still you.

"Stay for dinner, please." You cling to his shirt like he’ll disappear again.

He nods, unable to refuse.

Somehow you convince him to stay for a drink. Then another. Somehow you convince him to spend the night. Because after all these years he finds it difficult to leave and now he doesn't want the moment to end.

Risotto grabs hungrily at the fleshy parts of your hips. Your arms stay wrapped around his neck, giving him silent permission to continue. He tugs at the waistband of your shorts. You lift your hips enough for him to slide them off. Risotto hums approvingly as he realizes you have nothing on underneath. He cages you in his arms, sliding one under your shirt to palm at your breast, working your nipples into stiff peaks. To hide the blush that creeps up your cheeks, you bury your face in his shirt. He sucks at the pulse point in your neck, making you gasp particularly loudly.

He slides a finger up your slit, his large hand coming down to rest on your thigh. Your core throbs at the thought of what he plans on doing to you. You’re not wet- not just yet- but you feel the slick beginning to collect. 

“Stop teasing!” You bury your face further into the crook of his neck.

“I’m just taking my time, amore.”

He brings his other hand down to toy at your clit. To stifle a moan, you nip at his shoulder. Just how he remembered. You jolt as he brushes his thumb across the bundle of nerves, tracing softly along your thigh.

"More, please." You palm at his growing bulge.

"Not yet."

It's hardly enough, but he’d drag this out all night if you’d let him. His other hand traces down your stomach, resting on your thigh. You widen your legs a little further, giving him room to settle between them. He marks your neck- then your stomach- with little nips and bites. After a particularly loud whine, he moves up to nip at your ear, making your entire body shudder.

You're embarrassed, red in the face and needy, pupils blown wide and lips bitten red. His teeth graze across your thigh, fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises. You card your hands through his hair, a grunt of satisfaction leaving him. He pushes your legs just a bit further apart.

He sucks at your clit, lapping like a housecat. You grind against him, desperate for more friction. You've long stopped caring about the noise you’re making. He licks like a man starved. Aside from your own whimpers and pleading, you hear the huffs of a man who is very content with what he's doing. He's knuckle deep, the lower half of his face shiny with your slick, fingers scissoring inside of you. After a moment he adds a third, rubbing against your g-spot. The stretch stings, but isn't necessarily painful. 

He’s had to stretch you out plenty of times. The man is huge- that applies to more than just his stature. As he begins pumping those fingers in you, you dig your nails into his scalp. The coil in your stomach tightens far sooner than you expected. He grunts when your thighs close around his head, back arched off the bed. 

The coil in your stomach snaps. He lingers for just a moment after, until the overstimulation becomes too much and you push him away. He makes a show of licking his fingers, pulling them from his mouth with a pop.

He settles in next to you, your hips pulled flush to his. You feel something hard press into your thigh.

He’s got six years of lost time to make up, after all, he’s only just getting started.

#risotto nero x reader #risotto x reader #jjba x reader #risotto nero #vento aureo #jojo part 5 #jjba #not sfw #golden wind #jojo's bizarre adventure #la squadra

[mandoalorian]

Borrowed Time [Din Djarin x F!Reader]

ੈ♡˳‧₊*: • Chapter 4: The Bounty ✩࿐ ˚.✧

Summary: You are the princess of Mandalore, held hostage on your own planet by Moff Gideon and his army of Imperial troopers. Left with no choice, you send out a distress signal; a plea for protection— and who comes? None other than Din Djarin, a foundling of The Death Watch. He, by creed, is your sworn enemy. And where you have asked for his protection, he has been told by his mentor that he must marry you and gain the ability to restore Mandalore to its former glory.

Word Count: 2400>

Warnings: allusions to male masturbation, protector!Din comes with his own warning.

Series Masterlist

Maker, you were beautiful.

The way you slept was so peaceful, basking in the moonlight. Din was surprised you could even sleep that well on top of the rock hard slap he called a bed. He thought the child was cute when he slept, but as Din watched you, revelling in the way your chest rose and fell with every breath, he swore he had never seen such heavenliness in his life.

He’d gotten lucky, he had to admit that. You were the Manda’lor, and you could’ve been a Gungan or a Rodian or who knows what… but you weren’t. You were a human who looked distinctly similar to the illustrations of angels in the fairytale books Din grew up reading. You were brave and fierce, but you were still the same girl who burst into tears only minutes after meeting Din. You were special, different. And Din had never let himself feel this way about anyone before. Truthfully, it scared him.

And Din didn’t get scared either. He was a scarred, battle hardened Mandalorian warrior. Very little affected him... but already, his heart ached for you. He was yearning. He saw the way you were with the child, and the love you had in your heart. He was a fighter, and the way the creed had brought him up, he’d never known any different, but you were a princess. You showed him that you didn’t need to win your battles through violence, but you could do it through peace and love. Just like your mother; duchess Satine Kryze of Mandalore.

Din sighed, and raised his hands to remove his helmet. You were asleep, so it was okay. Just for once he wanted to look at you with his own eyes. And somehow, it was even better. Din discarded his gloves and quietly took off his beskar armour and boots, preparing to settle himself down for bed, but as he undressed, he didn’t take his eyes off you once. So so beautiful.

Maybe you and Din were more similar than you first realised, because Din was throbbing by the time he went to the refresher. He leaned against the cool wall and closed his eyes, palming at his erection through his pants. He felt so confined and he was desperate for some kind of relief. But when he closed his eyes, he wasn’t seeing the usual darkness. All he could see was you.

-----

You weren't sure how long you had been asleep for. But it was the distinct smell of bone broth that woke you up. Your eyes slowly fluttered open and it took you a few moments to focus your vision, getting used to what was about to be your temporary (yet still new) home. You stretched your body and yawned, bringing your fists to your face to rub your eyes.

“You're up,” Din commented, his modulated voice stating the obvious. You jumped when you saw the beskar clad figure standing at the edge of the bed—just watching you. How long had he been watching you? “There's a bowl of bone broth waiting for you.” he informed you and you scrunched up your nose at the unpleasant smell. “What? You don't like it?”

No. Was there anyone in the galaxy who actually liked bone broth? You assumed it was just something the settlers on Sorgan ate because they had no other choice, and it was cheap. Did the Mandalorian really drink bone broth? He’d already sounded irked and you had just woken up. 

“Uhm…” your voice trailed off, your gaze flicking between the bowl of soup and the Mandalorian. "Do you have any fruit? Sourberries, maybe?" You tried your best to dodge his question and sound polite, but judging from Din’s reaction, you mustn’t have done a good job.

Din scoffed, before taking his rifle out of the armoury and attaching it to the holster on his back. What did he need a rifle for? "No. You think I have the credits for that? Sorry princess." He grumbled. And with that, he disappeared into the shadows of the ship. 

You felt bad. You didn't mean to offend him, although you could completely understand how your comment came across. Ungrateful. You weren't ungrateful, it was just… bone broth was what you fed to the palace bluurgs. It wasn't something you ever voluntarily chose to consume. You looked back over at the steaming bowl of soup and sighed. Why did you even feel bad? You barely knew him. You were the literal princess of Mandalore and - no, you wouldn’t feel bad for a child of the watch. If anything he should feel bad for the actions of his people and what they had done to yours. What they had done to you. You slipped out of Din’s bed and picked up your bowl of broth before heading down the hull of the ship, wanting to find him and apologise. He’d given up his bed for you, he was making sure you were well fed, the least you could do was say sorry.

But he was nowhere in sight. You’d noticed the ramp of the ship had been lowered, and a stream of natural sunlight was blazing into the ship. You had landed. Were you on Nevarro? Had he… had he left you without saying anything? Surely not. You padded into the cockpit only to find Grogu sitting in the pilot seat, playing with a small steel ball. He threw it between his three clawed hands and giggled every time he caught it.

“Hey kid,” you sighed, slipping into the co-pilot seat. “Where did your dad go?”

Grogu garbled a long winded response and you listened closely. No way. He was a bounty hunter? Kriff… you’d somehow managed to tie yourself into a bounty hunter’s affairs. You cursed yourself but continued to listen to the child’s explanation. Din had gone out to earn some quick credits, goodness knows what for. And he’d left Grogu on the ship with strict instruction to watch over you. You couldn’t help but laugh incredulously. He’d asked his child to make sure you wouldn’t get into trouble.

“He can’t just leave me on the ship and not say anything,” you laughed to yourself in disbelief, letting your head fall in your hands. The birds outside the ship tweeted and for Din to have left the ramp open, you knew that Nevarro must have been a safe planet. At least for the most part. “Do you come here much?” You asked Grogu, who nodded his head in affirmation, You hummed, picking up the child and nursing him on your lap. “Does your father always expect people to follow his rules?” you asked slyly, and even Grogu giggled. “Come on. Take me around Nevarro little one. I wish to explore.”

It wasn’t like you gave Grogu a choice, but you learned that he was practically just as mischievous as you were, and Din was wrong to leave a child in command of you. He was wrong to leave anyone in command of you. You’d lived on Mandalore your whole life, not once ever leaving the planet. Now you were finally further into the outer-rim than ever before and Din just expected you to stay on the ship? Not a chance. You picked up the child and carried him outside and oh stars - it was beautiful. The golden sunlight radiated warmth and you overheard the happy sound of children excitedly chirping away. Din had parked the Crest dead centre in the middle of town, it seemed, with stalls and vendors on every corner, peppering the streets. You hummed in contentment, and sat down on the edge of the ramp with your bowl of broth and Grogu.

“Do you like this?” you asked, mixing the broth with the spoon Din had provided you. Grogu nodded his head happily and you laughed. “Does Din eat it?” Grogu nodded his head even more and his lips curled into a smile when he realised you were about to try the soup. If both Din and the child ate bone broth regularly, then it couldn’t be that bad…

And it wasn’t, not really. You could get used to the taste. The odorous smell was more off putting than anything else. So, without fuss, you ate the bubbling brown substance and discarded the finished bowl back inside the ship. You weren’t going to be gone too long, just long enough to meet the townsfolk and get a feeling off the planet. You hadn’t been this excited about anything in a long time. 

-----

This was never part of the plan, but in the 24 hours of knowing Din Djarin, you had softened him considerably; more so than what the Mandalorian would like to admit. He didn’t plan on being gone long. But he still wanted, no, he needed, to get on your good side if he planned on asking you to marry him. The thought of winning you over through a façade of lies didn’t sit right with him. He never had a strong moral compass but he believed that you should at least marry for love. But then again, love was a foreign concept to him. He’d seen it before, in his parents, but that was just a distant memory. It felt like a lifetime ago, and if the Armorer told him to marry you, he had to do it.

It wasn’t a choice. It was his duty as a Mandalorian. 

“I need a quick job.” Din announced, sliding into the booth opposite Karga.

“Mando! Good to see you. Kid not with you today?” Greef Karga, esteemed magistrate of Nevarro asked.

“He’s on the ship,” Din shrugged casually, knowing that the child’s safety - and yours - would be guaranteed as long as you just stayed put. “I need a quick job. Something simple and on Nevarro.”

Karga scrunched up his eyebrows in bewilderment. “Coming from the hunter who normally takes four pucks at a time, this is new,” he chuckled. “But I don’t have anything of the sort. What’s it for?”

Din hesitated, having no reason to be dishonest but yet not wanting to explain more than necessary. “Sourberries.”

This was a foolish plan, but if you wanted sourberries then Din would get you sourberries. He had this primal urge in him to appease you. To win you over.

Karga blinked before erupting into a fit of belly laughter. Din shuffled around in his seat, clearly uncomfortable.

“Sourberries? Let me guess, is that code for something? I get it Mando. Us men have needs!” Karga laughed. “I do have one puck on Nevarro. Brand new. High paid. Imperial bounty," Karga hissed once his laughter settled down, but a smirk still played upon his lips. "You could buy a whole sourberry forest with the credits from this bounty.”

“You’re doing Imperial work, after everything we’ve been through?” Din frowned, shaking his head in disappointment. “Does Cara know?”

“It doesn’t matter. The Imps are the only ones who will pay Guild rates. Besides… I really didn’t have a choice. The guy who came to see me was an ex-ISB officer. Said he’s looking for a runaway princess. Figured the guy she ran away with is a settler on Nevarro. Told me he has a very distinct look but didn’t provide much more information.”

Din swallowed, his heart sinking in his chest. It couldn’t be, could it?

“What other information do you have?” Din countered. He had to know. He had to know so he could return back to the Crest and warn you. Maybe Nevarro wasn’t as safe as he’d predicted after all.

“Will you accept the bounty?” Karga asked. “Otherwise I can’t-”

“Listen, I need to know all that you know.” Din said sternly. 

“Unless you’re willing to accept the puck, I can’t give you that information.”

Dank farrik. He couldn’t accept a bounty on you… he was your protector. What would he even tell you?

Once upon a time, he would’ve felt comfortable enough to explain his situation to Greef but if he was working with the Imperials again… maybe he wasn’t as trustworthy as Din once believed. He understood where Greef was coming from, to a degree. You were living during difficult times, but if he learned that you were the bounty and you were literally just a mile away, waiting on his ship, he’d have no choice but to notify this ex-ISB officer. If it meant Greef would earn his coin, Din wouldn’t put betrayal past him.

He needed the puck. He needed the puck because if he didn’t take it, another bounty hunter would. Of course Din wouldn’t let anyone even get near you, but if it was an Imperial bounty, he  knew they’d just keep coming and coming. The Imperials didn’t give up easily. They didn’t give up with the child and they wouldn’t give up on you.

“I’ll take it.” Din announced after a moment of contemplation.

“Excellent!” Karga grinned, fishing out for the puck. “What I can tell you is this. She’s the princess of once of the very few Empire ruled planets. Could be Lothal, Naboo, Dathomir, maybe even Mandalore…” and then Karga began to describe your appearance. Everything from your eye colour, hair colour, skin tone… he had you to a T. This was not good.

“Do you know why she ran away?” Din asked, trying to swallow away any fear for your safety.

“I don’t ask questions like that,” Greef responded, shooting the Mandalorian a strange look. Din should have known better. “But they’re almost certain she’s on Nevarro so hopefully you won’t have to look far. I have no doubt a man of your talents will be able to bring her back to the Guild before nightfall, right?”

“Right…” Din replied, a little too quietly. “Dead or alive?” 

“Alive only. No reward for a cold body,” Greef said strictly. “Good luck Mando,” Din was going to need more than just luck. He took the puck and stood up, Greef following from behind. “Hey, for your journey,” He smiled, handing the Mandalorian a bag of sourberries. “No charge. I’ve just… missed you.” 

Din made a small noise of gratitude although it wasn’t received through the modulator, before taking the berries from his friend and leaving the cantina. It really was warm outside, so much so, wearing the beskar was even more uncomfortable than usual. He had to go see Cara, but suddenly, it was very unsafe for you to be on the ship if Imps were roaming the town looking for you. Thankfully, Nevarro had the perfect hiding spot for you; the covert. Only Din didn’t know how much the other children of the watch would take a liking to you… or you them. But neither of you had any other choice. 

So when Din returned to the Crest, with sourberries and one hand and your bounty puck in another, he was mortified to see that neither you nor the child were there. His heart sank into his chest and his movements became erratic as he called your name and searched every crevice. Had they found you already? Had they taken the child? Oh no no no -

On impulse, Din fished into his armoury and grabbed more weapons, including explosives and detonators. He didn’t want this to get messy, but if the Imperials had taken both you and Grogu, there wasn’t a chance he’d go down without a fight. He’d have them begging for mercy. No one gets on the wrong side of Din Djarin.

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[earthlyyan]

Organic Antidepressants

(Slight Yandere Ferid Bathory x Suicidal Reader) originally posted on my AO3

Warnings: Ferid being touchy, suicidal depression, intrusive thoughts. Reader is of legal age

first person pov (ew)

(Originally Posted on AO3 On 1-9-2020)

The days were far longer than they were before… at least it felt that way.

I knew I should’ve died that day. I wish I had died that day. The day the trumpets of the apocalypse decided to ring gloriously over our god forsaken planet.

Anyone younger than thirteen? What a fucking joke.

The cot stuffed with hay was one of the few things that brought me comfort in the day to day. The odd number of children allowed for me to be alone. I liked it that way. More me time. And the most I wanted to do was return to it. But instead, my feet dragged down the busy streets, making my way to the blood bank.

On my way though, I could hear the guards making excuses to their superiors. Apparently three humans on the register were found dead in their terf. 

“They committed suicide. You know how they get when they’re cooped up. I didn’t touch them, honest.”

 “They got sick. Died of their illness I guess.”

Bastards took them for themselves. Everyone knew it. But were they going to confront them? They weren’t protected. The vamps just thought they could get away with it.

“Hey we have enough. Three won’t make a dent.”

Not even caring that those children had futures. Well, would’ve had futures. Those were stripped away as quick as the adults were.

I wanted to be happy. We all did.

But in this place? Laughable. You had a better chance of being an astronaut. Well… maybe not. But it sure felt that way.

You know how to be happy right?

 “First and Last name?”

I answered.

“First open table.”

No matter how many times I’ve done this already, the dread won’t leave. The feeling of their eyes. I could see the barely restrained hunger. If anyone was left alone, they’d take a bag for the rations and the kid for themselves.   

You could ask the vamp to take extra.

I shuddered and plopped myself on the medical bed. “Good morning.”

An unamused grunt was my reply. I was the scum of the earth not worth talking to, apparently.

He’s right, isn’t he?

The needle was quick. He hadn’t even bothered to give a warning. It was a pinch, a wave of nausea, and then it was over. He tossed the pouch of their nasty sustenance formula in my hands and pointed to the door.

“Thanks.” I walked out and threw myself on the floor beside the benches. I opened my disgusting capri-sun wannabe and began to suck on it. I cringed at the taste.

There were two boys on the stairs. One obviously more displeased about the situation than the other. He crinkled the full bag and threw it across the clearing. If I had the balls and the same cripplingly low amount of braincells as he did, I would probably do the same.

The other boy, far more mature than the other, stood up after chugging his to throw his pouch away. He seemed to be taking the situation much better than the other. He had beautiful blonde hair and deep blue eyes. If he wasn’t in this hell hole, he could’ve been a child model.

The thought made me sad. What could’ve been. I could’ve been somebody.

Maybe you’ll get a fresh start in the next life.

 Apparently, I had zoned out far longer than I thought because the next thing I knew, a fight had broken out.

 If you could call a young boy threatened to be chucked off the ledge a fight anyway. He was soon thrown to the side with enough force to send him reeling.

 A well-dressed vampire walked with purpose down the stairs. Shoulders back, chin up. He seemed regal.

He certainly looked like royalty.

“Lord Ferid!” The little blonde boy ran up to him. The two seemed close enough, which sent my mind reeling.

How does a kid get that close with a nobleman like him? They seem friendly.

“Ah~ Mika!” The noble -presumably named Ferid- gave him a kind smile. “What on earth seems to be the matter?”

He talked like royalty too.

I couldn’t stop staring. After a few minutes of banter, the noble took his hand from the blonde’s face and sent him on his way. He had said something about meeting at his mansion. I brought myself up from the floor and chased after the blonde.

*

Two days after the talk with Mika, I stood at the noble’s door.

“If you give your blood, he’ll give you anything you want!”

I rose an eyebrow. “Really? Anything?”

Mika nodded proudly. “Yup! Though he’s busy tonight. But the day after I’d try it.”

Maybe he can take the pain away.

 I took a few controlled breaths. This screamed danger. It’s a vampire. They kill people

Why are you so scared? It’s not like your life could get worse.

I knocked on his door.

It swung open, seemingly on its own accord. The motion invited me in. Once I was past the threshold, I gently closed the door and looked inside.

There he sat, lounging on a tasteful white couch with gold accented frames. In the dim candlelight he almost resembled an angel.

An angel of death, perhaps?

He looked up from his book and turned his attention towards me. My body froze. I felt my self-confidence leave. Not like I had much left anyway.

He called my name, somehow. Mika must’ve told him or something. Though, something nagged at me. I don’t remember telling Mika my name. Mika hadn’t even told me his. It was all overheard. Then how?

“Come, sit.” He patted the seat next to him on the couch.

 I sat down on the chair across from him instead.

“Over here, my dear.” He patted the spot next to him louder, trying to coax me over like I were an animal.

Though, that’s probably how he saw my species anyway, isn’t it?

“My dearest Mika had told me about your visit a few nights ago. I wouldn’t have thought he would’ve told anyone about the little arrangement I have going on here, but I’m not complaining.” He sighed, seemingly content. “I wasn’t expecting someone of your age to be here, how are you still here? You have me curious.”

“If I’m honest, milord, I don’t quite know.” I said, trying to keep my voice as steady as possible. But the calculating feeling of his gaze made it harder. “Luck? Possibly?”

“Luck?” He leaned back and turned himself towards me. “Is it truly luck?”

“With all due respect, what’s that supposed to mean?”

You know what he means, and you know he’s right.

He smiled at me, not meeting my eyes. Ah. Okay.

“So, what are you hoping to get out of this?” He scooted closer. “As much as I’d like to think you’re here out of the kindness of your heart, we both know that isn’t the case, now is it?”

I nodded; heat crept its way up my face. “Yeah, but I suppose that doesn’t make me irregular.” I grumbled. “But I suppose that also makes me boring doesn’t it?”

He shrugged. “That entirely depends on you, my dear.”

I tugged at my uniform and cleared my throat. “Yeah I guess that’s fair.”

“Back to the topic at hand, yes?” He smiled and placed a gloved hand on my shoulder.

I suppressed a shudder. “Right. I guess I should cut to the chase.” I finally had the courage to look into his eyes.

Those damn eyes, despite the almost ravenous look in them, I couldn’t help but find them entrancing. Like shiny rubies in where his irises should be. He raised his eyebrows, awaiting an answer.

“Antidepressants.”

And I would’ve never thought his grin could get bigger. “Antidepressants? Now that’s something I haven’t heard before.”

In a place like this? Really? “I’m sure you would’ve heard everything by now.”

“And I thought I would’ve heard it all by now too. But I suppose not.” He ran his hand down my back

I gingerly grabbed his hand and put it back on his lap. “Sorry.” I mumbled.

“No~ Don’t apologize. It’s quite alright.” He folded his hands in his lap, he smiled at me. “If I were in a situation like yours, I don’t think I’d want to be touched either.”

My gaze fell. “Right. A situation like mine.” I slapped my cheeks gently to liven myself up. “Back to the deal though.”

“Actually, before we continue, what do you need them for? Medicine isn’t allowed down here unless regulated, considering how it effects the blood. Someone as old as you should know that.”

“Yeah, but why else would someone need antidepressants?”

He stared at me. His expression left no room for argument. He wanted an answer. His lips tugged into a smile. A kind looking one, but it left something unsaid.

“Why do you really need them?”

It’s not like you have anything else to lose, right? Tell him. You’ll feel better. He can make you better.

I sighed and ran my hands through my hair, leaning back onto the couch. “Look, how old do you think I am?”

“Too old to be here at this age, certainly.” He shrugged and made himself comfortable next to me. Close enough to grab me, but far enough not to invade my personal bubble.

“And why do you think that is?” I looked to the wall, hoping to find a distraction to focus on anything else but how close he was. But found nothing but pristine white.

“This world’s god is cruel.” He said. “It seemed they chose to bless you instead of damning you to the fate of your elders.”

I laughed. “Bless me?” I ran my hands faster through my hair, tugging at the ends to ground me. “What kind of blessing is this? I’m stuck down here to live until old age, vitamin deficiency or illness takes me? I’d rather be with my friends and family.”

You could join them. There’s plenty of spaces to do so. You could fly like an angel.

“You could always make your situation better.” His voice softened.

“That’s why I’m here.” I took my hands from my hair and began to fiddle with my identification tag. “I thought if I struck a deal with you, I’d get the opportunity to make things better. To make things as they should be.”

“But if you were to make things as they should be, then I know the real reason you want those pills, don’t you?”

“I didn’t mean it like that I—” I felt my throat close. Tears stung the back of my eyes, I fought desperately to bite them back.

This didn’t go unnoticed.

“You did, and it’s okay.” His hand made its way to my hair. I couldn’t find the strength to fight him. It’s not like he was going to harm me if he wanted this deal to work. “You know your very existence is a burden to you. And you want to fix it. You humans were always so independent.” He whispered. He paused to take off his glove and used his sharp nails to comb my hair. “But you know it’s okay to ask for help, right?”

 “Nobody would give me help. They wouldn’t understand or wouldn’t care. I’d rather just…” I swallowed hard.

“End it? Now don’t be ridiculous.” He placed my head on his shoulder, presumably for easier access. “What if there truly isn’t a happy end if you end it? You’d lament not fixing it while you could. And suicide isn’t beneficial to anyone, little lamb.” His hand reached to touch my face. Despite his hands being cold, something inside me warmed.

This can’t be right. It isn’t right. He’s a vampire he’s just like the rest of them—

But he cares.

No. He doesn’t he just wants me to think he does.

But what if he truly does care?

“Why are you even trying to talk me down? Wouldn’t it be better for you to just give me the pills and then you get a drink?” It’s not like I didn’t have a plan B if he said no.

“How selfish do you think I am? I’m wounded.” He pulled my head onto his lap, his hands playing with tufts and braiding the longer pieces. “Who would want someone else to take their life for the sake of a meal?”

I averted my eyes. I sounded like a dick now. “I didn’t think of it like that. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize. That seems to be a nasty habit that you’ll have to break.” He said. “And I have an idea that could be beneficial to both of us in the long term, if you’re interested.” His hand moved my head to look up. I could see his furrowed brow and soft smile. I felt the remaining fears I had slowly dissipate.

“Yeah?”

“You can stay with me. I think I would miss you if you were gone.”

“You… You would?”

“Of course, I would. You’re full of untapped potential. And I think I could help ease those pains preventing them from coming to fruition.” He smiled. “All you have to do is say yes~.”

I slowly sat up, taking in his words.

He could make you feel wanted. You didn’t need to run anymore.

“I…”

You could have someone take care of you and like you for you, isn’t that all you’ve wanted? Someone who knows how to make things better? Someone who can save you?

“I think… I would like that.”

His smile reached his eyes. “As would I, my dear.” He hoisted me onto his lap. “Now, to seal the deal.” He unbuttoned the top few buttons of my uniform and removed my identification collar. “Have you ever been bitten directly?”

I shook my head.

“Now don’t worry. It won’t hurt for long. Like a pinprick.” He gave my nose a small bop. “Like a more organic needle. Just, try not to squirm too much. I don’t want to accidentally rip your internal carotid, and I’m sure you wouldn’t want that either.”

I took a deep breath. “Okay…” I tried to calm my nerves. “okay I can do this.”

He placed his hand on the small of my back and gently pushed me to his chest. “On the count of three, alright?”

I flexed my fingers, trying to ease my nerves. “Alright…”

“One…”

I felt his warm breath on my neck, making me tense.

He rubbed my head with his free hand. “Two…”

I squeezed my eyes shut.

“Three.”

It was much more painful than he had said. It felt like two spears digging perpendicularly into my skin. Slow and agonizing. I gripped his coat tightly. His hands continued to attempt to soothe me.

“Shhh~ The pain won’t last much longer.” He cooed. I could feel his lips moving on my skin at he talked.

The pain didn’t go away, but something arose within. The area where his fangs pierced me grew numb. I could still feel his fangs in my skin, its presence foreign. But it wasn’t uncomfortable.

It felt like warmth and welcome, if those feelings could resonate inside. My mind grew foggier. Pleasantly ignorant. I couldn’t hear anything else but the faint slurping and my own heartbeat. It was nice. I felt my eyes roll back and my body grow weaker. I gave Ferid’s coat a fatigued tug.

He pulled away slowly, and I whined at the loss. I slumped against his shoulder, the last of my remaining strength left along with his fangs.

His hand moved from the back of my head to my shoulders. He stood up with me in his arms. My eyes fought to stay open. I saw the faint image of Ferid’s face with a small stream of blood falling from his lips.

The light from the candle illuminated the space behind him, bathing him in a heavenly glow. He seemed a little livelier than before, too.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

I tried to get a word out, but it came out a strangled whimper.

He smiled and shook his head, tutting softly. “I think I took too much, don’t you?” He walked down the hall with my limp body in his arms.

Ferid arrived in a large bedroom and placed me neatly under the covers and tucked me in. He sat next to me on my left side. He brushed a few stray hairs from my face and gave me a small kiss on the forehead.

“I do believe you need your rest. I’ll be back when you wake, my dear. I promise.” His hand moved from my forehead to my cheek as he gave it one final caress.

In my failing consciousness, I heard a gentle laugh

“Sleep well my lamb you’ll feel better in the morning. You’ll never feel empty again.”

And in the enveloping darkness, I saw him smirk.

#yandere seraph of the end #yandere ferid #ferid bathory #yandere owari no seraph #yandere writing #reader insert #yandere vampire

[roll-da-credits]

Lycoris Radiata -Izuku Midoriya x Reader-

Inspired by the piano piece, "Lycoris Radiata," Written by Spikes, played by MusicalBasics.

Highly recommend listening to it whilst reading.

[1] [2] [3]

Word Count: 1.6k

When a childhood love shows up after being lost to time, it's unnerving to be presented by something so familiar yet different. Deku, lost to his own love and presented with the stresses of life and unrequited love, it isn't easy to see the world with an unbiased gaze.

!WARNING!

(This is for the entire series and not just this part)

BIG TW for death, suicide, abuse,

Minor TW for death imagery, toxic relationship, toxic friendship, toxic shit all around

A/n: The summary sucks ass I really don't know how to summarize this ahahaha, btw this is going to be a 3 parter and I hope all of you follow me for the ride cause its a bumpy AND angsty one. Like heavily angsty. The first part doesn't have that many triggering topics, but the second and third do, so read with caution.

Imagery used

Red camelia flowers

Deku felt his entire body freeze at the sight. Like seeing a piece of his past that was lost to time. He yelled your name and without looking back to see you already knew who it was.

His very voice brings warmth in your entire being, a soft chuckle left your lips. You could hear his footsteps getting closer and closer, he was running to greet you. To greet the girl who left so long ago. The girl who disappeared from his life the moment he went in UA.

He never knew what happened or why it did happen. Though all of his questions bubbled into non-existence when you stood and closed your arms around his torso. He wanted to lift you up to the air, hug you even tighter. After all, it wasn’t everyday he would find his childhood friend sitting in a park bench all alone.

“You know him?”

A lone voice interrupted Deku’s complete bliss. He felt you quickly release your hold on him, though the beautiful smile he admired never leaving your face.

He watched in curiosity as the lone voice wrapped his hand around your waist. A bitter feeling etched its way in his throat. He pushed it down as far as it would go, afraid by his own jealousy he would push you away from his life once more.

“We were friends back in Grade School and Middle School, we stopped talking in Highschool though.” “Izuku, this is my boyfriend.”

Deku smiled and held his hand out for your boyfriend to shake. Which he does so with a big smile, “I didn’t know you were friends with the number one hero, that’s incredible.”

His intimidating tone at the beginning turned to almost fascination. Deku simply chuckled to himself and scratched the back of his neck in nervousness.

Your boyfriend leaned down to give you a small peck on your lips and Deku couldn’t help but shift in his place. Feeling rather displaced at watching a shameless display of affection. He slightly looked away to watch the rose bushes not very far from where he was, missing the grip that tightened around your waist. The flowers were beautiful, bright red and imposing. He thought to himself how hard it must’ve been to take care of such a delicate flower.

“Why don’t we all head out to lunch?”

Your boyfriend suggested.

To which you quickly agreed and your eyes locked with Deku’s green ones. A gaze almost as if you were begging him to come along. He, of course, would never deny an offer like that, not when you seemed so desperate to get him to go along. A feeling of gratitude bubbled in his chest, he felt as if you were looking at him like that as a sign to reconcile. Maybe even apologize for your sudden disappearance.

He followed the both of you to a nearby restaurant, getting stopped here and there for photos or signatures by passers-by. Every time he’d glance over to you and your boyfriend with an apologetic gaze, only to be met with the warm smile of your boyfriend and slight chuckles here and there.

He was extremely thankful you were able to find yourself such a considerate and patient lover. It quelled the jealousy in his heart a tiny bit. He would never jeopardize your happiness just because of his selfishness to have you as his.

Finally arriving at the restaurant, he watched your boyfriend closely the entire meal. It wasn’t he was scared of him being terrible or a bad company, he was simply making sure your boyfriend was the right person for you.

His suspicion would soon disappear though, the moment both of you went in, he greeted the waiters. Even apologized when one of them bumped into him. He was kind to give up the table he reserved for a family with hungry children. And he patiently waited for another table to open up for him.

When the waiter messed up his order, he simply smiled at your request of getting a waiter to correct his order and ate it without complaints.

Deku watched in front of him as he always kept his hand slung around your shoulder. He watched as your boyfriend complimented you, flick away a piece of food that fell on your clothing. Deku observed him with a keen eye and yet could do nothing but smile.

He truly did seem like a good person.

Despite his keenness and thorough nature, he missed the way you’d often shift in your seat when your boyfriend’s body nudges yours. Or how you’d flinch when a waiter dropped a plate rather far from the table.

The entire meal Deku along with you and your boyfriend made small talk here and there. Deku grew to like your boyfriend more and more.

At the same time, he felt his romantic feelings for you lightly watering down. He knew it was still there, but once again he’d rather it completely dissipates than ruin your relationship with a good person.

After all, he was a hero, he would always care for you and give you the best of the best. Even if it meant letting you love another.

~

“Izuku!!!” At the call of his name, Deku ran as fast as his tiny legs could carry him through the forest and to you.

Both of you still children laughing and exploring the forest with Bakugou and his gang of miscreants.

He finally found you crouching, watching intently at something he could not yet see from his distance.

Deku stopped for a moment trying to catch his breath, he thinks you haven’t heard him yet since you weren’t turning your back to him. Still intent on watching whatever you were looking at on the ground.

Just as he started to walk to you, Bakugou jumped out of his hiding spot and landed right in front of you. Causing you to scream from the scare.

Bakugou laughed out loud, prideful that his little prank worked. “I got you!!!”

Yet, no laughter followed from your side. You didn’t laugh like you usually did, both Bakugou and Deku who was now already behind you grew slightly anxious. What if you had gotten hurt from Bakugou’s landing?

What they didn’t expect was for you to cry ever so loudly.

Fat tears rolled down your cheeks as you stood and pushed Bakugou to the ground, still wailing.

“You dummy!!! You stepped on it! It's dead now!!!” You wailed and cried, before turning your heel and running back to your home.

Bakugou looked at Deku for clarification, as he was still dazed from the harsh shove. Deku looked to whatever you were staring at before Bakugou’s scare and saw a crushed red camellia flower. Bakugou finally realizing what he had done still didn’t want to admit he was in the wrong.

So just like the child he was, crossed his arm on his chest and huffed.

“It wasn’t my fault the flower was in my way!!”

He too soon left Deku to his own devices, looking for his previously left behind gang.

Deku feeling incredibly bad took the crushed flower in his hands and brought it home with him.

The next day he got his mom to bring him to your place since for some reason you didn’t come over today to play with him like you usually do every day.

“Oh Inko, please come in. They’ve been crying since they came home yesterday, something about something red dying. It was probably another flower.”

Your mother welcomed both Deku and his mother in, explaining why you had been absent from your usual playdates. Deku got the green light from your mother to meet you upstairs, and so just like a little kid excited to show his friend a new toy. He ran up the stairs holding a tiny box in his hands.

He barely bothered to knock on your door and barged in, causing you to lightly flinch at surprise.

“Izuku?” He swiftly apologized when he saw he interrupted you whilst you were reading.

Waddling his way over to sit next to you, he smiled and asked what you were reading about. You explained it was an English book called The Very Busy Spider, in which the main character was a red spider with a green head. A character you enjoyed so very much.

Deku listened to you retelling the children’s book to him, all whilst gripping the box extremely tight. Ecstatic to see your reaction when you opened his little gift.

“What did you bring Izuku?” Your little fingers pointed at the box tied neatly by Deku’s mother in a red ribbon.

Deku grinned and gave the box to you, “I’m sorry about Kaachan yesterday.” He sincerely or as sincere as a child could, apologized for his best friend’s actions.

You nodded at him and opened the tiny box. Inside was a dried version of the red camellia flower you had thought died after being crushed by Bakugou.

You held it close to your heart and almost cried tears of joy before enveloping Deku in a bone-crushing hug. “You’re my hero!!!” Your words made a flicker of flame igniting in his chest. He didn’t realize your words impacted him so much until he went back home and couldn’t get it out of his mind. He was extremely proud of himself to bring a smile back on your face.

After all, if he was going to be a hero, he would need to ability to make people smile all the time. Even if it meant racking his brain to find new solutions to odd problems.

#deku angst #izuku midoriya #deku x reader #izuku x reader #midoriya angst #deku fluff #my hero academia #mha #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha x reader #deku x you #izuku midoriya x you #bnha x reader #izuku fanfic #deku fanfiction

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Even old wolves have nightmares...

The roof caved in after a particularly bad snowstorm. Vesemir should’ve fixed it sooner, but there were so many other parts of the castle falling down around his ears, that his own bedroom seemed to fall to the bottom of the list. As Eskel helped him pick through the snow and debris, Vesemir grumbled. “Least I wasn’t in bed at the time.”

However, this meant he now had to move into the same tower as his pups. There were many reasons this was a bad idea. Firstly, his keen hearing picked up Eskel’s low moans as his bard worked him over, often joined by Geralt because the damned songbird had two hands, didn’t he? And, if Vesemir was honest, you didn’t need Witcher hearing to pick up Lambert’s gasps and moans of, “harder, Aiden!” And, Vesemir’s personal favourite, a stuttered, “squeeze tighter, fuck, fuck, I’m—.” He loved his pups. They deserved their privacy.

Unfortunately, the other towers were derelict and in desperate need of maintenance, so Eskel helped him move his belongings into the one remaining spare room. The man he thought of as his ‘eldest’ son smiled wryly. “I’ll—uh, I’ll tell the others to keep it down this winter.” 

“I’ve got ear plugs,” Vesemir grumbled, and cast Eskel a knowing smirk. Despite his kind, empathetic nature, Eskel hadn’t worked out the real reason Vesemir kept his distance. Gods, Kaer Morhen used to be filled with teenagers and highly strung Witchers, Vesemir had heard it all before. No. The real reason he stayed away from his pups during the winter was because of the nightmares.

Most nights he woke up shouting, sheened in sweat and gasping for air. They didn’t really have rhyme or pattern. Sometimes he dreamed about the boys on the Trials; Eskel and Geralt particularly, because they had been his boys. Watching them scream, and vomit, and bleed. Being unable to comfort them because that’s not what Witchers did. He could still hear them begging for mercy, pleading with the mages to make it stop.

Sometimes he dreamed about the Purges. About climbing the Witcher's Trail that fateful day and watching black smoke block out the sunlight. His mind recalled the images of charred corpses in the courtyard, of finding Barmin, his mentor, cut to pieces, of finding Rennes, still clinging onto life, bleeding out in the courtyard. Vesemir held him until the end. The Leader of the School of Wolf had looked truly terrified in his last moments, blood bubbling over his lips, hands grasping Vesemir’s gambeson – “I’m sorry, I tried, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” – weakly as he finally succumbed.

The basements had been the worst. Filled with dead mages and zealots alike. The imbeciles had decided to light bonfires inside the keep and had choked themselves to death on the smoke. He remembered falling to his knees in the main hall surrounded by the small, fragile bodies of new initiates and screaming in agony.

He remembered a figure, cloaked and broad, appearing in the doorway. 

He remembered strong hands pulling him from the floor and holding him tightly.

He remembered that same man building the pyres and dragging each body to them.

He remembered feeling paralysed with grief, unable to help even though he knew he should. He had to.

He remembered finding the man – the boy, his boy – kneeling by some of his friends, too shocked, too exhausted, to cry at first. 

He remembered two more of his boys showing up. His feral child first, followed by his White Wolf. By the time they appeared, most of the work had been done.

He remembered their horror, their agony and then their rage.

Sometimes his mind gave him reprieve and he dreamed of monsters, wraiths and horrors of the Path, but they never woke him screaming. They never chilled him to the core; never left him breathless with sorrow; never made him shout names into the cold darkness, begging for them to return, pleading for destiny to reverse its cruel judgement. 

The first night in his new quarters was one of those nights. Vesemir’s body reclined in his new bed, salvaged from the equipment store in the old dormitory, but his mind travelled back to a levelled courtyard crowded with charred corpses; to Rennes’ blood-soaked face begging his forgiveness. His brother. His family. 

Vesemir screamed and begged in the empty room. The tears trailed down his face as he thrashed beneath the furs.

“Vesemir.”

What?

“Vesemir, wake up. It’s just a dream. Come back.”

Eskel’s eyes—a deep, honey-rich amber—awaited him when he opened his own. One strong hand gripped his bicep, while the other pried his fingers from the blankets. The man. The man that had dragged forty students and over a dozen instructors to their funeral pyres, his face smeared in soot and ash, cheeks stained with tears of grief. Eskel.

“You’re alright, old man,” Eskel yanked him up, forced him to lean against his broad shoulder. “You’re alright.” 

“Eskel, I—,” Vesemir started, seeking the solid, officious persona he always cultivated before his boys, but it remained elusive. “This is… shameful. I’m fine, honestly—go back to bed, boy.”

“You learned to run from what you feel, and that's why you have nightmares. To deny is to invite madness. To accept is to control.” Eskel murmured. 

Vesemir squinted. “Who—?”

“Barmin, circa 1050; Vesemir, circa 1160,” Eskel paused, and then his lips curled into that big, unique grin that only his loved ones ever got to admire. “Eskel, 1265.”

Vesemir chuckled; low, rumbling and slipped an arm around Eskel’s shoulders. “Never has a wiser wolf walked the Continent.”

“Hmm,” Eskel considered the deep shadows cast by the full moon, and then shuffled onto the bed, shoving Vesemir over in much the same way he used to when he really was a pup; he kicked his legs up and tucked his hands behind his head with a quiet sigh.

“Won’t your bard get cold?”

Eskel smirked. “He can warm himself with one Witcher tonight,” his eyes slid closed. “I’m on guard duty.”

Vesemir bedded back down next to his son, chucking a blanket across his broad chest. The wolf slipped easily back into slumber; his dreams guarded by a pair of amber eyes that blazed in the darkness.

#vesemir #cw death and loss #cw grief and nightmares #the witcher #eskel #because if anything ever goes wrong Vesemir turns to Eskel #his protege #next head of the School of Wolf #long suffering dad Vesemir #rawrkinwrites

[widowsofchaos]

Poor Little Rich Boy

summary: you find out your boyfriend isn’t all that innocent as he seems.

warnings: yandere behavior, violence, and gore. dub-non con. Ya know the filthy vibes.

Pairing: dark college!Tony Stark x black!reader

a/n: this is my first time writing Tony so be gentle with me <3

do not respost my works!

“I, Howard Anthony Walter Stark, being of sound, mind, and body do hereby declare that this document is my last will and testament. I bestow my legacy in the hands of my only heir, my son, Anthony Edward Stark. All my assets, finances, and chair as CEO of Stark Industries are now in his hands.”

Buzz.

A dull silent vibration shook in the confinement of Tony’s jean pocket, pulling him out of his sullen trance. Instinctively ignoring the notification, as he listened onto the blurred words of the lawyer reading his late father’s will.

Biting his lip to contain his swirling emotions -- aggravation to just collect his inherited earnings, and head home to you.

Buzz.

With a hazy eye-roll, Tony casually sneaked his palm into his pocket, retrieving the phone. As the family lawyer droned on reading, aged eyes glued onto the paper; Tony peaked at the screen, with the quick analysis of face ID -- his pupils dilated like saucers.

His nostrils flared, inhaling deeply, his chest heaving -- he gotta get home immediately. An iron grip onto the phone, he roughly dug it back into his pocket, his foot tapping against the carpeted flooring. Antsy.

God, please make time go faster.

Buzz.

His fingers itched to snatch the cellular device, internally screaming for another peak at the salacious cheeky messages.

Messages from you -- photos of yourself seated on his bedroom floor, in only a high-waisted thong, and his custom tailored blazer.

The creamy beige against your buttery smooth bronze skin was divine, Tony swears anything you wear is pulled off with elegance. Your brown areolas are slipping out just a tad bit from the flaps, a hint of what’s awaiting for him.

His cock hardened against the denim fabric, Tony salivates whenever you wear his clothing, his scent imprinting onto your flesh - of you in compromising positions, your neatly manicured fingers inside your panties, rubbing your swollen nub. Biting your plump bottom lip.

Buzz.

Another picture with a text, you were sipping from a glass, his best Scotch, with the typed words, “I miss you. I know my favorite boy is blue, come back home so I can take care of you.” Signed with a kissy face emoji, and a red heart.

You were leaning on your elbows, your bouncy ass in the air, legs bent upward with your ankles playfully interlocked in the air.

The glass of ale leaning downward against your teasing lips, and sultry eyes through the reflective mirror -- Tony’s cock twitched, oh he’s gonna eat you up when he gets home.

- It was midnight, the full moon shining bright in the inky indigo sky -- beaming upon the Stark manor. The white fluorescent solar satellite glistening upon the grand bedroom where two lovers lay satiated in bed.

Rubbing random circles by the pads of your fingertips on Tony’s sweaty broad chest, taming the beast into a purring feline.

“I love you.” Tony’s mild slurred speech infiltrated the serene silence, your nose scrunched up in glee. “I love you too.” you murmured in his neck, a lazy grin stretched on your face.

For hours, Tony, and yourself haven’t left the bedroom, stringing release after release -- letting Tony pinch, pull your hair, bruise, slap, and choke your soft flesh-- that’s what he loves about you, trusting him wholeheartedly with your body, and soul.

A lot of tears of euphoria, and fear of abandonment. Reassuring Tony that you would never leave him, breathy hymns of I love yous in his ear.

It’s been a couple of difficult few weeks, Howard Stark has passed at the age of 74. A fatal car crash taking his life, leaving behind his only son. It was only freshly five months ago that Tony lost his mother, Maria. Uterine cancer - multiple tumors.

Maria Stark, the matriarch of the family, was the light of Tony’s life. Maria was a saint, even at death’s door, she had a positive perspective. You can still recall her calling her tumors fruit bowls of pain - her tumors were the size of miniature melons; grew from the size of strawberries.

And when she died -- the already fractured relationship of father and son deteriorated to ash. Howard started becoming colder, more stricter on his son -- his disappointment fueling by the second.

Clayed into a modernized Narcissus -- guising his trauma with bloviating chatter to impress the little people. Boasting his youthful genius with no shame.

Tony may have been born from the finest cloth, a silver-spoon wedged in his mouth -- but he oozes the work ethic of a blue-collar joe.

Under the molden gait of a promising demigod is a fragile boy -- yearning for affection. A neglected child desperate for attention.

Sending nudes to your boyfriend while he’s attending his dead father’s will hearing -- many would deem that as distasteful -- tacky, even. But, you knew Tony’s coping mechanisms.

Frat parties, drinking excessively to the brink of oblivion, and copious amounts of sex.

Tony was raised in a household, where any emotional turmoil expressed to his father was shot down, except with his mother -- he needs a womanly touch.

He never saw his conquests as ladies, only whores to get his rocks off, but once he laid eyes on you -- sweet, and bubbly -- that little rich boy was a goner.

Succumbing to a dazed half-slumber, Tony’s cell phone rings at the bedside table -- you groaned at the intrusion. Flashing on the screen was Happy’s goofy grin, one of Tony’s closest friends. You mumbled a ‘of fucking course’, Tony cheekily chuckled at your frustration.

“Don’t worry, sweetcheeks. This won’t take long.” With the wisp of a lingering kiss on your hairline, Tony begrudgingly detached himself from you--proudly strutting his naked bare firm ass, picking up his boxers from the floor shamelessly displaying his hung cock, and balls.

“Nice ass.” you teased. Tony snorted, “Nice? Toots, it’s the finest ass. And you love it.” He winked at you over his shoulder, you giggled. Tony’s footfalls faded down the hall, his conversation blurring into the distance. You laid back down, sighing as you stared up at the ceiling, quickly getting bored.

Without Tony to entertain you, you had nothing to do. Maybe I could get a head start on my thesis? Your eyes languidly rolled to the corner of your lids, staring at your opened crumbled book-bag mocking you at the corner of the room, Fuck that. You grumbled.

Mindlessly deciding to get dressed, and search for substance. Hours of unadulterated love-making can take out a lot of energy.

Nimble quiet feet tip-toe down the stairs, covered in only Tony’s wrinkled white button-down, brown statuesque legs gracefully head to the kitchen -- but you halt in your tracks. A dim light seeps from the crack out of an office -- Howard’s former office.

Curiosity overwhelms you, biting down your tongue, you check your surroundings, making sure Tony is nowhere in sight. Earlier in the day, the office was locked -- why is it now open?

Open-palm press against the door, a tiny creak of the mahogany makes you cringe internally. Stealthy you walk into the office, nothing seems to be out of place. Maybe Tony was in here? Fidgety fingers skim against the polished wooden desk, at the corner of your eye, a mess of papers sit idly by.

You pick the papers up, fastly flicking through it. Statements declaring Tony as the new CEO of Stark Industries, royalties, and -- mechanic blueprints?

Your chest began heaving, breaths still choppy fuming out of your nose, your left eye twitched from the stressing bile rising. Here in your hands are the blueprints of a familiar vehicle -- Howard Stark’s car. Descriptive details on the full functionality of the car, why are these here?

Warm palms clutch your shoulders, soothingly rubbing, you flinch by the surprise, “You weren’t meant to see those.” A hot breath fan against your ear, you whimper, his voice sounded husky, menacingly.

Not daring to look him in the eye, frozen in your spot as if the soles of your feet grew roots in the flooring, Tony’s grasp on your arms tighten. “The old man was going to take me off the will. I know he was.”

A chaste kiss on your temple, “As if I didn’t take his shit over the years just for nothing. Blaming me for my mother’s death.” He grumbled against your skin, your blood running cold. There was no remorse in his voice, a hint of satisfaction.

This isn’t the Tony you knew.

A beast of his father’s making.

“Tony - I - I won’t tell anyone, I promise--” Tony shushed your stuttering, his rough hands snaking its travel to your waist, slithering his forearms around your torso, ensnaring you.

“I know, baby. I know you wouldn’t. You’re my good girl.” He spoke in your hair, small lingering kisses on your scalp. Tony was rocking your body back and forth, cradling you -- he can sense your fear.

With trepidation, you held his arms, a little shaky. “Tony, let’s just go back to bed.” Your voice was cracking, this isn’t the man you fell in love with, and you wanted to just run away as far as you can.

“You’re scared of me?” Although it was an intended question, its tone came off as a fact. Indeed you were terrified of him.

“No.” You spat too quickly for your liking. Tony gripped your chin, and twisted your head to face him, “I would never hurt you. I love you. Everything I do is for you.” Your breath hitched, his face was morphed into a sad feral puppy.

“I know. I know you do.” You feigned a weak smile, “I just didn’t think --” you stopped yourself before you vomited any other words. “Do what? Kill?” Tony cocked a brow, with a shit-eating grin. “I did it before. For you.” Tears were forming at the brim of his eyes, your doe-eyes widened, you began squirming in his arms. “Tony, what did you do?!” you shrieked, limbs failing.

Tony’s iron-grip didn’t let up, refusing to let you go, “He wasn’t right for you!” Tony bellowed on the top of his lungs, impulsive rage seeping through, fumbling feet colliding.

Both of your bodies falling to the carpeted floor as Tony tried to restrain your wrists, fumbling feet slipping. A miscalculated misstep sent you, and Tony colliding downward.

Tony’s weight pinning you down. Confusion making your head go dizzy, “What do you mean?” You whispered. Tony smashed his lips against yours, his hands cupping your cheeks, “You know what I mean.” His brows furrowed, gently his forehead on yours, his eyes staring into your soul.

Realization hits you like a freight train, flashes of your ex, the cops alerting you of his disappearance, Tony’s lingering shadow always appearing to provide comfort -- “Brock?” a lone tear trickle down your eye, down your temple, and hitting the carpet below. Tony nodded frantically.

Tony’s lips peppered against your face, your cheeks, your forehead, your eye-lids, your nose, your chin; mumbling affection against your tear-stained face.

It’s been three years since Brock vanished, rumors flew around campus from students believing he killed himself in some remote location, you lost him in the first years of university.

You were grief-stricken, but Tony, being the ever-present close friend lend a shoulder -- then soon, it blossomed into much more.

“Now, it's just us. We can start a new dollface.” Tony sniffled, hot tears drip upon your flesh, “We can start our own family” he rasps, “I can be a dad. A better father.” Your eyes widened at his suggestion.

A family? You both were just shy of twenty-one, and already Tony is mapping out your entire futures. You tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but it was futile.

Tony murmured nonono to your bodily request of escape, chasing clumsy blubbering kisses against your chavile. Your body began to be wrecked with sobs, your chest heaving.

“Don’t cry, baby. It’s better this way.” Tony’s brows were furrowed sorrowfully, his tremor low with ache. “You killed Brock, how could you?! I loved him!” Tony gripped your jaw, painfully his fingers kneading,

“Loved him?! He wasn’t right for you! You need me! I need you! No one is going to love you like I do. I loved you the first day I met you.” Harsh fingers rip off the fabric, exposing your breasts to the elements.

“You’re mine! No one can have you! I will kill anyone who tries to take you away!” Tony’s mouth plunged, fangs nibbling on your nipples, his entire mouth suckling your left breasts.

Tony’s left hand pinching your right nipple, twisting and slapping it roughly. You yelped, shutting your eyes closed. Your skin crawled, Tony’s brown eyes peered at you, dissatisfied that you refuse to look at him.

A sloppy pop echoed, “Look at me!” he slapped you, the crack of it pounding in your ears, the heat of the sting scorched throughout your cheek. Your eyes popped open, watery from the hit, Tony has never once laid a hand on you -- until now.

Nose to nose, “We’re gonna be a family--” one of his hands traveled down to tug down his boxers, his hard swollen cock is man-handled in his palm, you struggled to get away, but Tony clutched your wrists in one hand, and pinned it on the carpet.

Tony spit on your cunt, rubbing it within your velvety folds by the base of his veiny cock, earning a hiss out of you. “You’re going to look so hot swollen with our baby.” Your thighs twitched, Tony roughly forced your thigh to wrap around his torso, positioning himself.

“Please - Tony, please don’t”, you cried, Tony shushed you. Lining himself to your hole, with no hesitation, plunged his cock inside your pussy. You screamed, your back arching, “Feels lovely, right? Feels so fucking delicious - you were made for me.” Tony snarled, biting your chin, his tongue trailing your jawline, pistoning his cock inside you.

Dripping slick smears against your thighs, clenching onto his cock, a broken groan slips from Tony’s lips, “Fuck - yes, do that again.” You were blubbering tears down your cheeks, the inevitable pleasure Tony strings out of you is undeniable.

“You’re so tight, and warm.” He growled in your ear, “I can’t wait to have a baby with you. You all swollen, waddling around with bare-feet. You’ll be a great mother - just like mine.” He whispered, biting on your lobe.

You murmured muffled whines in the crock of his neck, bruising is slowly forming on your hips, fucking you like it’s the last time. Shivers run down Tony’s spine, time slows down.

Sweaty skin slapping against skin spurred him on, taking all of you. Your nails scratch at his palm, still bounding you down.

“I love you.” He whimpered, you bite your lip, refusing to sink into the instinct of saying it back. Tony perked his head up from your neck, growling, “Say it back!” he thrusted his pelvis against you, a cattle wail hit you, “Say -” thrust “it-” another thrust “-back!” his smile falters slow, a bruising touch.

He can see you slowly yielding, small pants of electric euphoria, “No!” you bite back.

Wet lips slant against yours. Your entire body jolting from his unforgiving pace, your back burning slightly from the rug beneath you.

Releasing your wrists, his rough hand find it’s way to your back, hiking you up, squeezing your ass in his fingers, bucking your hips; fucking you onto him, your nails dig into his sculpted back -- scratching for him to stop, but it felt too good.

You’ve become dizzy. Your teeth sink into his shoulder, hoping the pain makes him halt his actions, but it makes him harden inside of you.

There’s no space between you, melting into one, the friction, the heat; the tethers of reality blur into nothing.

“Please - say you love me.” Tony pleaded, his weary eyes sinking into yours. A robbery -- a heart-wrenching robbery of your soul, in an instant, you didn’t see a cold-blooded killer, but the mire of a lost boy.

He slowed down his thrusts, leisure movements, his brown orbs are glossy, “Say it, please.” Tony gently kisses you, not feverish, but you can taste the sweet commitment. Like he doesn’t own you, but he worships you.

“I love you.” you mumbled against his swollen lips, his eyes dilated, rubbing his nose against yours, “I love you” maneuvering your hips, squelching can be heard - sticky as honey, as the pace picked up.

Your fingers grip his soft fluffy hair, his balls slapping against your ass, “I love you, Tony.” You sucked on his bottom lip. He whimpered. His cock was coated in your juices, you can feel the swelling of his balls, and his uneven jerking movements -- he was close.

“Cum for me, baby.” Tony’s eyes were shut, he mewled, “Cum inside me, give me a baby, Tony.” The dam breaks. The window bursts open from a gust of wind, the full moon gleamed upon your sweaty sheen bodies, a howl erupts from Tony -- as the wolf within has been unhinged -- primal, feral fueled lust.

Toothy grin, all fangs lunged for your pulse point, devouring you. Squirted juices spray from you, splashing against his toned stomach, not once stopping, riding through the orgasm. Tony’s tongue peaked out, droplets of your cum sprinkling his mouth.

Your vision turns white, an inhuman scream leaves you, Tony collapses onto you.

He’s trembling, frightened, you massage his dome, “My sweet boy.” Tony sobs into your chest, ensnaring himself around your torso. You hugged him, cradling like a baby, as he cried water-falls.

“It’s okay.” You kiss his head, a lingering one, “It’s going to be alright.”

You’re all he has.

#buckybarnesplumwhore wrote this #tony stark x reader smut #tony stark x reader angst #yandere tony stark #yandere tony stark x reader #dark tony stark #dark tony stark x reader #dark marvel