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mypoisonedvine · 10 months

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𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 || dark!jonathan crane x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 || since you're the only one of his coworkers at arkham who doesn't seem to be intimidated by his intelligence, jonathan decides it's time he finds out what does scare you... and how he can embody it. unfortunately for you, turning into your greatest nightmare doesn't prove very difficult for him.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 || 5.5k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 || EXTREME AND EXPLICIT NONCON (18+ only and please proceed with caution), drugging and kidnapping, paralysis, traumatized reader, forced orgasms/overstimulation, degradation, humiliation, choking, slapping, unprotected sex/breeding, misogyny, jonathan is very much in character which means he is incredibly evil and has incel vibes (I know y'all are not about to get mad at me for writing a villain being a villain and not uwu babifying him...)

When you interrupted and corrected your colleague, Dr. Crane, about the correct combination of pharmaceuticals for a certain schizophrenic patient in the asylum who happened to have diabetes, you thought nothing of it. After all, the whole point of staff meetings was to discuss and debate these things, and you weren’t about to let him damn-near poison a patient by giving him something that would interfere with his insulin. You weren’t trying to be snarky about it, but you did sort of make a joke about how dangerous his suggestion was— and you didn’t notice the way Jonathan’s nostrils flared and jaw tightened when some others chuckled at what you said.

When you received an email from your therapist’s office informing you that there was evidence of a break-in in her building, but that the police were unable to officially determine if confidential client files were compromised, you thought nothing of it. It was a big complex, these things happen, and you knew from being a clinician yourself how tricky the laws could be surrounding that stuff: she had to email you, legally, if there was any chance your file could’ve been accessed, and that didn’t mean you had any reason to fear your private therapy session notes had been read. Besides, who would want to read about you and your boring life, diving into your mundane hopes and fears and daily stresses?

And when Crane came into the office with tea for you, you thought nothing of it. Sure, you seemed surprised when he popped into your office with cups in hand— you asked him why he had two cups of tea, assuming they were both for himself, and he laughed. Just that was out of character, he wasn’t much of a chucklehead or anything. “Green tea, right? With lime and honey?” he asked, setting one cup down for you. You were still taken aback, but you had to admit defeat.

“Yeah,” you said, taking the cup as he sat down across the desk from you. “Yeah, that’s my order— I didn’t know you drank tea.”

“Sometimes,” he informed you, hoping his poker face was holding up as he watched you take a sip. He couldn’t help but stare at your lips wrapping around the little hole in the lid, the print of berry-red your lipstick left behind. His heart was racing already, more than he expected.

When you finished the first sip, you smiled at him and let out a small, nervous laugh. “Thank you,” you finally said. So, yes, even though you clearly noticed this was slightly odd behavior, you thought nothing of drinking the tea. That was one thing he hated about you: the thoughtlessness. You didn’t seem to second-guess yourself much, if anything you were a little on the cocky side. He found it so irritating— that confidence. Sure, you were smart and you deserved to take yourself somewhat seriously, but the way you walked around this place— the way you ignored him so easily, or spoke over him if you wanted to, or ignored his suggestions when he gave them… you were a bitch, basically. You clearly thought you were better than him— better than everybody else— for no reason at all. Just because you were pretty and had a good job you thought you could get away with anything, surely; pretty girls always think that way.

He made casual conversation with you as you sipped the tea, asking questions he already knew the answer to, hoping to catch you in a lie. For the most part, your stories matched up with what he’d learned from that file. But, you left out the gory details— you left out the best parts, really.

You mentioned where you went to medical school and that you transferred mid-way through due to ‘stress’, but you didn’t elaborate on what really happened to you. You mentioned having your own therapist— something you said passionately that every client-facing mental health professional should have— but left out what you were actually being treated for, not to mention the PTSD diagnosis.

He had to hide his smirk behind the paper cup every time you seemed to lose your train of thought— it wasn’t like you, so focused and determined all the time. No, it was the drugs finally kicking in. You went for bigger gulps of tea each time your eyes looked heavier, hoping the caffeine would work— but the trace caffeine in your green tea was nothing compared to what he’d added.

You tried to warn him that you were suddenly not feel up to par— that he needed to leave, and you might try to wake yourself up— but he just sat and waited. He watched you try to get up, and lose your balance. He watched you stumble, trip, and ultimately fall onto the floor limply. He watched your eyes flutter shut and the final ounce of energy to fight it fade; he quietly took a final sip of his tea.

You woke up on the floor. You could barely feel it beneath you, but you knew it was the floor— it was cold, and hard. And you were looking up at the dark ceiling, at the fan spinning at the lowest speed; so you were definitely on the floor.

Jonathan was standing above you, not too far off, flipping through papers. You couldn’t move— no matter how hard you fought to, you couldn’t. You barely managed to turn your head, but it felt more like it rolled to the side on its own. You tried to yell for Dr. Crane’s attention, for help, for him to explain what happened to you, but even your mouth couldn’t move. The best you could do was breathe harder— actually, you were pretty sure your body was trying to hyperventilate, but you were too incapacitated to even have a proper panic attack.

He heard you, though; he looked away from the papers and grinned down at you. “Comfortable down there?”

You started to put together a few things. One, that the last thing you remembered was being in your office, and now you were in your apartment. Two, that those papers were photoscans of chart notes— obviously you couldn’t make out the words from here, but the format gave away that it must have to do with a patient.

And three, that Crane was neither surprised that you were paralyzed on the floor, nor interested in helping you.

He half-rolled the papers in one hand and playfully hit the other hand’s palm with them. “These have been quite interesting… revealing, to say the least,” he informed you, like it was a compliment— something you should be proud to hear. “You’re quite the enigma, Doc!”

He sat down beside you on the floor, leaning on his hand first to find his balance with a little sigh; he seemed amused, actually, and your heart began to race.

As he started to read aloud from the page in front of him, you felt nauseous. He was reading patient data, describing a client who was receiving individual counseling— or that’s what the CPT code indicated, at least. As he listed the client’s demographic data— age, race, gender, height, weight— it became eerily obvious what he was doing. You refused to believe it until he went on: “Client was recommended to Dr. Min Zhang for individual therapy concerning PTSD following sexual trauma.”

Your therapist. This was a file he’d copied, which belonged to your therapist. And it was obvious whose file it was.

As you tried with all your might to scream, Jonathan flipped a few pages ahead.

“Session fourteen, eleventh of June,” he continued. “Client expressed frustration with an increased recurrence of nightmares and flashbacks to her assault. Up until now, she has struggled to explain what triggers her anxiety without having to actually elaborate on the circumstances of the event.”

He stopped, but you weren’t exactly relieved. In fact, you were horrified. He had a little grin on his face when he looked at you, but you could finally see the rage in his eyes. Suddenly, you realized how long it had been there. You had sort of picked up on it before, the resentment he had towards you— and it didn’t take a Freudian expert to figure out that he was threatened by you, especially as a man. He didn’t respond well to feeling upstaged and he clearly had an issue with women. Maybe not that issue— he was good-looking and well-off, he didn’t need to have any issues with women if he didn’t want to— but an issue nonetheless.

“Now,” he added, smiling wider than you’d ever seen him smile before, “client states she is ready to describe the incident in full detail.”

He set the papers aside for a second, leaning over you and almost looking… giddy, really.

“I won’t read you the rest, I’ve already pretty much memorized what goes on from there. It was fascinating— seeing how what happened that night connected to the fears you still have today… the nightmares. You said that you still feel sick at the smell of alcohol, you still don’t like to wear pinstripe skirts, and even just the wrong few words can make you feel like you’re right back there where it happened— on the floor of your apartment.”

All you could do was look up at him, and you felt your eyes get hot as they welled with tears.

“Not this apartment, obviously— the one by your old school,” Jonathan sighed, “but this will have to do. And the smell of alcohol, well, I wouldn’t want to let anything cloud my experience— but I dabbed a little gin on my wrists, what do you think?”

He held his hand up by your face, caressing your cheek for a second, and you imagined yourself pulling away— turning your head and shrugging his touch off of you with a grimace. But nothing happened, of course, and you were entirely helpless as the acidic stench of liquor became apparent. You couldn’t give your typical outward reaction of a frown, but inside, you felt just the same as always: your stomach twisted, your heart pounded, your head swirled.

“Smell is such a… primal trigger of memory, isn’t it?” he mused, watching your face reverently. “I can see it in your eyes, it’s affecting you even more than I expected. You act so fearless at work— but I knew you must have been overcompensating. God, you’re terrified— I would say you’re paralyzed, but, well… it would be too literal, I think.”

You knew that Crane studied fear and phobias, even trauma occasionally, as a personal interest within the field. It was normal to have a favorite subtopic, and to conduct related research on it— but obviously, this was far from normal, this was absolutely deranged. You knew that part of this was vengeance, in his own mind at least, but you didn't feel like you'd done anything actually wrong to him. And the rest of it, well, it seemed like some twisted experiment, but if you were able to speak you would've tried to remind him that this 'research' wasn't going to get him published or advance his career— but of course, that wasn't what he wanted. He just wanted to humiliate you.

“I was worried I didn’t have enough to work with, you know,” he added. “I knew I couldn’t get you to where it happened, if I could even figure it out since you never filed that police report… and the skirt, well, I considered it. It sounded pretty exciting to dress you up like the night it happened— what I would give to know everything you were wearing that night, but I don’t have a ton to work with. Obviously, you don’t own any pinstripe skirts anymore, so I would’ve had to buy one… and I wasn’t quite ready for the looks I’d get shopping at Macy’s, so…”

Carefully, he reached up to take off his glasses, folding them and setting them down on your coffee table.

“You know how detail-oriented I am— I mean, I went to all this, didn’t I?” He continued, reaching down and brushing his fingers for a moment over your leg. It was so instinctive to pull away that it took you a moment to realize you hadn’t… because of course, you couldn’t. “But it’s impossible to recreate it all perfectly. Clearly, I don’t need to— if only you could see it, Doc, you look… you look so weak. Pathetic.”

Since the only thing you could do was look around, you tried to look away— to not give him the satisfaction of seeing the terror in your eyes. He grabbed your face and turned it until you looked up at him.

“Did you think you’d be able to face your greatest fear? Perhaps with a bit more dignity?” he mused. He looked different without the glasses on; and, ironically, you felt like he could see you even better now.

It was obvious that he enjoyed lording complete power over you, but a quick glance down to his suit trousers made it clear just how much he enjoyed it. You quickly darted your gaze away, but it was too late; he started to climb on top of you, staring at your face uncomfortably close, and worked on opening his belt and fly.

“Fear rules us all, doesn’t it? Everything you did, it was guided by your fear that it would— well, why paraphrase? Let me find exactly how you put it…”

He picked up the papers again quickly, licking his thumb and flipping around until he found the right entry.

“Yes,” he said, “here it is: client states she lives in almost constant fear that it will happen again.”

So that's what this was: his disturbed take on exposure therapy.

As he tossed the copied charts away for the last time and reached up under your skirt, he leaned down and whispered in your ear— and you couldn’t even flinch from the harsh sounds of his words. “It took you over fifty sessions to admit it,” he recalled, “to tell her the whole truth. Not just what he did to you… what you did.”

With a small growl, he yanked your panties down your legs and rubbed your thighs with far too much aggression, such that you expected bruises from his hands— just like the ones you’d had before.

“You said he made you do it,” he continued, “you couldn’t help it, right? But you said nothing’s ever felt like that— that you’d never had such a powerful orgasm.”

You would’ve vomited, except that that, too, requires your muscles to not be paralyzed. Rolling your skirt up and spreading your legs, he positioned himself right between them, rubbing his cock's leaking head around your hole.

“Your greatest fear isn’t really that it’ll happen again, is it?” Jonathan taunted. “You’re afraid someone’s going to find out how much you liked it.”

With that, he punched his hips forward and speared you on his cock.

It had been years since you'd had anything inside you, even your own fingers. You couldn't even remember if being penetrated hurt like this during your assault, and you would've sworn before that you remembered every detail perfectly. But this was so real, not a memory or a nightmare. You couldn't cry out from the sting.

"God, it's tight," he groaned, "I bet you weren't this tight when it happened— you'd been whoring around, hadn't you? Letting all kinds of guys use you… just ran into the wrong one and got your drink spiked. But now…"

He hissed through his teeth, tightening his grip on your hip.

"Now it's all mine, isn't it?"

Inside, you were screaming and kicking and pleading for mercy. You imagined you would be angry and violent, beat him to death with your heel or something, but you wondered if you'd be forced to bargain with him— apologize for whatever you did to upset him, promise you wouldn't tell a soul about this as long as he left you alone. But either way, it didn't matter… on the outside, you were useless, laying there and letting him use you.

"What made you come so much before? Did he have a big cock, is that it?” he asked with a snarl. “Did he know exactly how to touch you? Or was it just that you’d been craving it, needed it really rough to get off properly? Is that why you came while he raped you?”

It was a biological response, you told yourself like you had over and over, I couldn't help it, it wasn't my fault, it was a biological response— it wasn't my fault, I didn't like it, it was a biological response.

“I think I know what it is,” he mused, looking down at you with heavy eyes and almost purring as he watched your limp form bounce on the floor. “I think you wanted to be put in your place. You act so liberated, so empowered— but you’re a creature of instinct, like anything else. You need someone to remind you how weak you are, I know, fuck, I know you do…”

He fucked you just a bit faster, grunting and tightening his fist on the floor by your head.

“You haven’t been able to have an orgasm at all, since then,” he stated— almost making it like a question, with the way he said it, but he obviously already knew it was true. He sounded shockingly sympathetic— not even pitying, not condescending, for once. “I’m sure for a while you didn’t even try, afraid it would remind you— but that’s the thing, you can’t finish unless you’re reminded.”

You almost surprised yourself when you heard a whine come from your throat; he smiled proudly.

"It's wearing off, I think," he noticed. "I only gave you a small dose. Can you move at all? Can you beg me to stop?"

You opened your mouth to try to say everything you'd wanted to since you awoke, but all that came out was a moan. You hated yourself for that, and he laughed happily.

"You don't want me to stop," he decided. "Feels too good?"

I fucking hate you, you wanted to scream, you sick son of a bitch, I fucking hate you—

"You didn't say it outright, but he must have said something to you— during, maybe after," Jonathan theorized. "You didn't say what it was, but you told your therapist about having a vivid flashback after being accosted by a delusional homeless man on the street. He called you a bitch, seemingly for no reason… is that what your rapist said to you? Did he say you were a stuck-up little bitch?"

As burning hot tears striped your temples, you curled your fingers over and over— maybe you could move your arms if you really tried…

"He was fucking right about you. You think you're so much fucking better than everyone else," he growled. "You think you're so fucking smart, and special. But you're no fucking different, you're nothing—"

You whined and reached up, weakly trying to push him off of you, but all you could do was limply grasp at his shoulders.

"Nothing but a stupid—" he grunted the word as he slammed himself into you— "fucking—" he did it again— "bitch."

"No!" you finally heard yourself sob, clutching a weak fistful of his white shirt, but he grabbed your hands and shoved them back down to the floor.

“God,” he choked, holding your wrists tightly until you whined, “it’s so much better when you can fight— fuck, it’s so much better. Keep struggling if you want, Doc, you’re still too weak for me…”

Your legs moved a little, but they felt heavy. Sensation was only just beginning to return to them, like pins and needles, and it stung; you winced as you managed to squirm a bit beneath him.

"That's it," he praised, "this is probably just how you did it before. Too drunk and too desperate for cock to really do much, but trying so hard to look like you hate it— I understand, you don't want anyone to know that you need this. They'd never look at you the same again: the smart, accomplished psychiatrist who likes getting treated like fuckmeat. What would they think of you if they knew?"

"No…" you said again, too weak and traumatized to say much else— but it wasn't what he said that made you say no, it was the pulse of pleasure inside your cunt. He must have felt it, and if he didn't, he surely felt the next; yes, he did, because he smiled down at you excitedly.

"It's happening, isn't it? You're gonna come."

He held on tight to one of your legs, gripping your thigh and staring uncomfortably into your eyes as he kept going— faster and rougher with each thrust. You choked on your throat, trying to stop any part of this, but the pleasure was undeniable; it still hurt, yes, and you still felt so angry and sick and numb, but something familiar and desperate was tightening in your gut. It’d been so long since anyone touched you… you’d forgotten how natural it could feel, even when it was so horrible.

"I read it in your file, but I still couldn't really believe it,” he laughed quietly, “I couldn't believe you came over and over while being raped— but here you are, wow, look at you… you’re so beautiful when you’re scared.”

A long, heavy sigh fell from your lips; your eyes got heavier, and your whole body seemed to relax— in a way totally different from the medication-induced paralysis.

He cooed at you, seeming oddly proud, and you were oddly compliant as he picked you up and pulled you into his lap.

Tears streamed across your cheeks as he held you close, one hand around your back while the other moved your hips against his. “There you go— come for me, I wanna feel it— another one, baby, for me…”

It wasn’t much longer before another one came— from what you remembered, it was a lot like the first time, this terribly wonderful way your body protected itself from the trauma by immersing you in pleasure. Of course, Jonathan helped you along by rubbing your clit with his thumb, excited to watch you surrender to ecstasy even when you begged him to just stop and leave you alone.

Of course, your protests were less and less believable as more of your strength and mobility returned— you could’ve tried harder to get away, but instead you found your hips rocking with his, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. No, you didn’t want this— you never wanted this— but you found the way he spoke to you impossibly comforting even while it was still deeply upsetting. “Tell me about the nightmares, darling,” he whispered— some impossible mix of pleading and ordering.

“A-almost every night,” you whimpered. “I… I got used to it, but I used to… I used to wake up and think I was still…”

"They felt so real, hm?" he presumed, and you nodded. “It’s real now… you don’t have to be afraid of the dreams anymore, it’s all real— I’m right here.”

You couldn’t tell if he was trying to scare or comfort you; he pet your hair, clinging to you tightly, kissing your face and neck along the lines of the tears soaking your skin.

You felt his grin against your cheek when another wavering moan echoed in your chest, and he laid you back on the floor to hover over you again. “Was that your third one, already?” he noticed. “This is so much easier than I thought… you needed this so badly, you poor girl.”

A quick wave of panic settled over you when his hand wrapped around your neck. “W-wait,” you pleaded instantly, as if you really feared he would just strangle you to death right then and there. Your hands, still weak and tingly, reached up to his arm, and you felt his cock throb inside you— of course that was what he wanted, to see you react in fear again. So many other emotions were at play right now, even some you didn’t know existed (like whatever the word would be for longing for the worst thing that’s ever happened to you, or feeling like the only person you can trust is the person hurting you the most), but fear was still going to rule it all as long as he had any say.

"How many times did you come before?" he demanded to know, nostrils flaring as he fucked you harder. "Tell me how many times you came when he raped you."

"I— I don't—" you stammered.

"Say it," he ordered.

"I— I don't know!" you yelped, whimpers falling to silence as he tightened his grip on your neck.

"You don't fucking know?" he snarled at you, watching you fight for air. You clawed at his shirt, his wrist, tried to pry his fingers away, but he just sneered as he stared at your numbing face. "You don't know how many times you creamed on your rapist's cock? Bullshit."

"I—" you gasped when he let go of your throat, "I lost count…"

He went from livid to ecstatic in a second, laughing proudly and dipping down to kiss your neck passionately. "Good girl," he mumbled against your skin, fucking you even faster. "That's what you need to do for me now— come for me until you lose count."

“I— I can’t,” you choked, grabbing at his shoulders as he seemed to overwhelm you just by pressing his weight down on top of you. “I’m sorry— you… you proved your point, I— I just need a break—”

Even though the drug he’d injected you with was wearing off, you realized you were just as limp and helpless as before… after all, some of the most powerful chemicals come inside the body. You didn’t even fight it when he put his hand over your mouth, spitting out a quiet but hateful shut up and continuing with his quick and forceful thrusts into you.

He kept you conscious and lucid by occasionally hitting or choking you, talking to you, once or twice even ordering you to kiss him. Like you mean it, he’d said, slapping you as punishment for doing it wrong. Truth be told, you hadn’t kissed anyone in so long that you’d really been trying your best the first time. Sometimes he told you to beg him for more— or to beg him to get off of you— and yet he would usually punish you for speaking at all. He was completely unpredictable, and you figured that was part of the plan: take away any shred of control you might try to get by making it impossible to follow his rules. Keep you confused and crying, keep you fearful, keep you obedient.

But, he did seem to enjoy when you could only just choke out a broken please. He laughed at you, pinching your sore clit in response until you sobbed and tried to jerk your hips away. “‘Please’ what, honey? You mean, ‘please keep fucking me, Doctor Crane, you’ll make me come again?’” he taunted. “Something like that?”

“Please… please,” you swallowed around your whines, “please just… finish, and go…”

“Oh,” he purred, “you want me to come?”

You’d specifically not phrased it that way, but, yes, that was what you were asking for. You weren’t sure what else he wanted from you now, it felt like he’d drained you of everything.

“You can just say that, baby— you wanna make me come?” he grinned, moving in closer for a kiss, but you turned your head away. He grabbed your jaw again and stared at you with an angry glare. “This isn’t about me. This is what you wanted. This is what you fucking wanted!”

As he screamed in your face, you sobbed and tried to look away again, but he hit you hard on the face and covered your mouth before the cry of agony could come out.

“This is what you wanted, right?” he insisted again, forcing your head to nod with his clammy, iron-tight grip. “Uh huh— and you wanna make me come, don’t you? You understand now that’s all you’re good for.”

As sick as it was, you felt yourself fall into another orgasm when he said that; your eyes rolled back a bit, and for a moment you felt even hotter between your legs.

“I think, if you beg me to come, maybe I will,” he offered— bargaining with you, probably another way to trick you into clamoring for some control only to yank it away. Unfortunately, you were in no position to turn down a deal.

“Please,” you blurted out the second he released your mouth from under his hand; when you blinked the tears from your eyes, you saw him clearly again and realized how completely different he looked from the arrogant-but-generally-unassuming man you knew from work. His hair was fallen beside his face, and he was close enough that the ends were tickling your forehead. His eyes were bloodshot, crazed, and dark. His lips, always full and plush but usually in a tight frown or neutral look of condescending boredom, were curled around the teeth he bared at you. He looked animalistic, for a man typically so measured. Only he could do something so animalistic in a way that required such intellect, foresight, and contemplation— using his superhuman skills to treat you in a subhuman manner. You realized that you were really seeing him for the first time— the person you’d known before was the mask. This was something horribly freeing for him; and you were having a much easier time analyzing and thinking about him to distract from how sickly freeing this experience was becoming for you. “Please, Jonathan—”

“Doctor Crane,” he corrected. Apparently this wasn’t enough to put you on a first name basis…

“Doctor Crane,” you repeated, “please… come. I want… I want you to come.”

“Hmm,” he considered, and you worried he’d decide he was unimpressed with your effort and hurt you again— but, he did maybe the only thing worse. “Okay,” he agreed, “if it’s so important to you.”

Just when you shut your eyes tight and hoped you could just get through this— just hold on for a few more minutes at most and then this would be over and done with— he whispered in your ear that he needed you to keep your eyes open if he was going to finish.

Though, when you obeyed, he purred at you and let his own eyes flutter shut for just a moment. For once, he actually seemed affected by all this physically and not just psychosexually. “I think I’ll come inside, like he did before,” Crane decided with a groan when he opened his eyes, biting his lip for a moment as he stared down at you. “I didn’t see any birth control in your listed medications on chart… I guess we’ll find out if you have a fear of getting pregnant.”

"Jonathan— don't," you whimpered. "Please, don't do that—"

"Shh," he soothed, petting the top of your head and laying his weight over you. "Shh, it's alright. I think you need to be filled with come… I think that might be the one thing that’ll get you to settle down, now just hold still.”

“I— please… please…” you began to beg again, but your words faded away as another wave of sensation washed over you— they started to blend together, like before, and you realized you were doing what he’d asked: you were losing count.

“Good girl,” he praised under his breath, “like that— fuck, I’m close. Fuck!”

He held onto you tight— one hand on your thigh and the other on your neck as his thrusts sped to a desperately, impossibly fast pace. You moaned— or cried, or yelled, or something— as he pushed just a little too deep and your toes curled in your heels.

“Uh huh,” he encouraged, “just one more while I come inside you— I think you can manage that, just one more good squeeze on my cock— oh, fuck, that’s it, yes, just like that…”

You stopped being able to understand what he was saying, but you heard the wavering groan that came a few moments later when his movements suddenly stopped. He gasped and kept himself as far inside you as possible; you shuddered, blinking fresh tears out of your eyes, and felt paralyzed in an entirely new way as you laid under him, staring up at your ceiling, seeing how far the sun had set since it began— actually, it had started to rain, making it even more impossible to tell how much time had really passed. Eventually, though, he took his head out from the crook of your neck and propped himself up enough to look down at you.

Reaching to your coffee table, he fumbled his hand around until he found his glasses, and shakily put them back on. “Well,” he grinned, still panting but seeming to be mostly back to himself (whoever that was). “I never thought I’d meet someone who loves fear as much as I do.”

#jonathan crane x reader #scarecrow x reader #cillian murphy x reader #jonathan crane smut #cillian murphy smut #IM SO SORRY TO THIS MAN #not to crane he's garbage

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bowieandqueen11 · 8 months

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Sanji With A Clingy Reader Would Include...

Request: OH BABY telling about one piece is like unlocking a whole second heart of mine i have fully for that anime and manga and live action. and so, if you ever decided of course, you writing something similar to something you did on marvel once and sanji with reader that has no personal space and is touchy would be amazing. but also... kissing zoro is great to, if you ever decided? anyway! HOPE YOU LOVE IT (one piece i mean), and if not ignore me UwU

Ooh yess babes this is so SWEET!! :3 I LOVED IT omg hello to my latest obsession not me ordering the first collection of the manga

This was really sweet and fun to do, but I did stay up all night writing it so all comments are much appreciated!

Warning: slightly spicy, some mentions of fighting!

(I do not own One Piece or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @fanpageknight.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

Look at this man. Seriously, look at this man with his little bottom lip bite and eyes like the sun shines heavily out of them and tell me he would be anything less than absolutely madly, heart wrenchingly, soul crushingly enthralled with a clingy reader??? That's right you can't take the l on this one.

It all started that day when the three of you ended up shipwrecked on that sad sack excuse of a rock. When you and Sanji huddled on one side of the forsaken isle to stay away from the terrifying Pirate Zeff. His hands had shaken as he drew them up to his chest, but he mustered the nerves to string open the sack Zeff had thrown at his feet. Once he had counted out the cans, he offered all the food to you.

He wanted you to stay alive far more than himself. Ever since you had landed on his ship he had been smitten, and his weary heart would beat its last under this smothering sun as long as you would live on for the both of them.

To keep him calm: to stop his gasping, tortured heaves as he tried his best not to writhe in panic at the thought of never stepping back on safe land again, you would spent most of those 85 days sitting over the cragged edges. Sanji couldn't tear his eyes away from peering down at the gushing shards of stone below that seemed to rip up in tides and tear for his swinging feet; to try and distract him from sniffling any longer, your hand would tentatively creep over the rock until it landed flatly, and unceremoniously on top of his own. His fingers flexed beneath your own, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he folded them upwards, giving your hand a shaking squeeze: a dutiful promise, a flitting confession of love, that you just happened not to feel in your ruminations of the circumstances.

In fact, he asked you that night, in an uncharacteristically quiet and bashful voice, if you would keep his nightmares away by holding him like his mother used to. You felt terrible: you were so stunned that for a moment you stood with the last piece of mouldy bread you had in your hand in shocked silence. Poor Sanji thought you were about to reject him outright: throw what little he had left of his heart - that he had so carefully lifted out and placed in his hands to offer to you, only to have it thrown back to his feet in the usual ridicule he got for his love. His bottom lip began to tremble, until you nearly knocked him onto his bottom with how fast you dropped everything and flew over to lock him in a tight hug, not minding the fact that your shoulder was growing wetter and wetter despite the brewing rain each time Sanji buried his snivelling head against it.

So you would let him rest safely in the bracket of your arms: his left cheek resting in the warm stretch between your collar bone and your neck, his right hand draped leisurely around your waist as you told him stories of pirates and treasure: of the Deep Blue and tropical fish that shone like bursts of fragmented starlight every time their fins graced the water. Although he would groan any time you removed your hand from where you were stroking the wet strands of his hair back from his forehead, it was quickly replaced with wonderment as you would point up at a cluster of stars and whisper excitedly: 'look, there's some now!'

He had never been afraid of nights ever since that moment, not when the stars were still out and he could trace with the butt of his cigarettes the fish you had drawn specially for him in the skies. It was like a secret message: a lover's reminder that he was never alone. That you were always with him. That your beauty - your light, it shone everywhere, no matter where he was.

It was the first time he had kissed you, two forgotten children lost underneath the dripping crevice of your little hideaway. As your belly began to rise and fall underneath his elbow, and he believed you had exhausted yourself out after trying to make him feel better, he dared to dart up from your shoulder and press his lips firmly against your cheek. It had been quick, almost gliding past time like a dolphin leaping up out of the water, but it had meant so much to him that he curled up into a ball in your side and flushed a bright cerise, having to shove his fist into his mouth to stop his manic giggling from waking you up.

But you weren't asleep, and as Sanji settled back into your neck with a smile bright enough to rival the shine of buttercup petals, you swore as he began to drift off in the first peaceful dream he had had in years that one day you would return the favour, but in full.

The two of you were thick as thieves growing up, to the point where Zeff became so distracted by your antics that he often tried to separate the two of you by making you work the floor and Sanji either in the kitchens, or off fishing at the docks. Ten seconds later though, he'd be kicking through the kitchen doors again to find you leaning on the kitchen counter next to an eager faced Sanji, whose to busy to register Zeff's shouting. Instead he places the spoon to your lips, having spent half of lunch service prep cooking you a brand new recipe he had spent the whole night creating out of a medley of your favourite foods. He subconsciously licks his bottom lip, the tension in the room felt by the other chefs who try to carry on washing pans and cutting vegetables enough to put everyone on edge as Sanji refused to look anywhere but your lips. Holding his hand under your chin, his dipped eyes were broken by a sudden grin as a loud 'mmhhh' left your mouth and you chewed in sweet bliss.

Still ignoring Zeff's increasingly erratic rant, as Sanji goes to start cleaning up his pan you slide down to stand behind him, wrapping your arms tightly around your back and jutting your chin into his shoulder blade like a baby koala. You can tell he's laughing silently by the way his shoulders shake against you, but all he does is pull up your hand from his belly button to press sweet, dainty kisses up and down the lengths of your fingers, before dropping it down to press your palm flatly against his heart.

'I think that might be your greatest dish yet, buttercup!'

'From you, that means everything my precious heart.'

'Why do you call me that?', you murmur, refusing to lift your lips from his shirt.

'Well my sweet love, why do you call me buttercup? I mean, I always know I smell of butter and the likes-'.

He's distracted by your snort against the side of his neck, but the two of you are too love-strikingly embarrassed to say anything again. Even if neither of you could see the warm peach rushing up both your cheeks, Zeff could. He could also hear the padding thuds of Sanji's heart as he gripped his fingers that almost imperceptibly bit tighter around your hand, and he found himself sighing at how oblivious you two idiots were.

Sanji is definitely just as clingy as you, if not more so. You've definitely met your match in this man. I mean, any time you're out on the floor, handing out bread to tables and scanning the room to check if there were any patrons you may have to throw out by the scuff of their collars later, his eyes are trained on yours. He leans against the banisters, not even trying to remotely hide how obviously he's tracing your path with a dumbstruck, lit up smile. If you're in the kitchens, desperately trying to bite your tongue and not tear Zeff a new one as he chops his hands together and rushes you to plate up? He's sliding up to your side in an instant, throwing scathing looks at the man while trying to help you spoon thyme onto your bass, nuzzling the side of his head into yours encouragingly. If you have any free time at all? Sanji is fast on your heels, darting after you like someone's firing shots at his dress shoes, as if you have his heart tied to a string on your wrist as he seeks out whatever nook you're going to relax in. It doesn't matter if you're at the bar, watching the docks, or trying to hide from Zeff in one of the cupboards in the pantry: Sanji is squatting down and grunting as he shoves himself in right next to you. He sits criss cross, only satisfied when at least one of his knees is resting heavily over yours, and he has full access to watch what you're reading over the side of your neck.

He only fully settles, though, if you touch him in some way. He genuinely will begin mewling once your hand reaches over to brush your knuckles over his jawline, or your hand finds itself guided to bunch itself up in his hair. One time, he guided your hand into his lap, and you began to absentmindedly stroke your pointer finger along the seam of his inner thigh. Thank goodness you had your head buried in a book one of the pirate crews had come to swap some dried meats with you for, because it took every muscle in Sanji's body twitching: every finger clenching and unclenching into his knee until he drew blood not to knock you flat right there and then and kiss you like there was no tomorrow.

He gets a MASSIVE nosebleed - so gushing, in fact, that he tries to reassure you he's fine as you hold him by the elbows and lead his tilted back head and pinched nose down to Zeff for some help.

It becomes a very major recurring issue every time he looks at you. He makes sure to carry a handkerchief in his breast pocket from then on.

God, if he didn't love you more than anything in all the seas. If you weren't the only one that he let see past his charming nature: if you weren't the only person left in his life that truly could recognise the young boy left in his eyes, in his gait, in his smile, in his dreams. That little kid on that great big ship, the one who had found you stowed away behind one of the barrels of rum, and instead of calling for the crew had taken your trembling hand and led you into the kitchens, introducing you as his newest sous chef. That same kid, who stood beside you and held your hand so gently, so heartbreakingly gently under his as he guided you through lessons of chopping onions and sautéing garlic, breaking out into long strings of rushed, praising French every time you got it right. The same one, who would frown as if he were the one who had been hurt any time you burnt your hands or sliced your fingers. Who would unravel the knot at the back of his apron, and tug it over his head to carefully place it over yours.

'This always brings me luck', he would say as his fingers daintily tucked the strings underneath your shirt collar. 'But I don't need it anymore, because you've brought me all the luck and happiness a man could ever dream of, my cherie.'

The same kid who would tip toe out of his bed to sneak down to your hammock, crawling in and burying himself underneath your blankets where you slept in the brig, telling you fantastical stories about his mother until you fell sound asleep. He would watch you from where he lay on his side, hands folded by your head, as if you had hung every star in the wide skies. He would brush his fingers over the edge of your cheek and curl up beside you, wishing that every minute of every day of the rest of his life could be spent with you.

Yeah, smitten wasn't enough to cover it. Only destiny could be raw enough to draw the two of you to each other, Sanji always thought.

As teenagers, you would end every shift outside, sitting on the wonky boards of one of the jutted docks. Just sitting side by side, as you always wanted to be, pretending you weren't playing a game of chicken as the two of you teased and pressed and glanced your fingers over each other's, leaning back and looking up at the stars. Sanji always appreciated the better chance it gave him: shrouded in naught by wisps of moonlight and the rare flashing neon of ship string lights, to take you in as much as he could. You didn't mind the fact that he spent the whole time staring over at you. In fact, if you hadn't been so lovestruck, you might have found the courage to tear your head away from the horizon to meet the look of gut-wrenching devotion that always seemed to pour out of his eyes and beam only on you. It always felt like warm sunlight, sitting next to him, and so you finally dared a chance at grabbing his fingers and intertwining them between your own, pretending it was because of the sea chill spraying a fine mist over your legs.

Again, the squeeze he gave your hand was almost, almost imperceptible, but you felt it this time. And you could feel the look of enduring devotion he pierced into your skin, a warm tingle washing like a spring tide through your tired body.

He always knew. He always knew that if he had stayed on that rock, he would have been content to. Happy, even. Because he would have been with you.

'I love you', he said without words. He gave your hand another squeeze. 'I'm going to love you forever. No matter how many lifetimes. No matter who I am. I'm always going to find you, and I'm always going to love you.'

His voice nearly made you jump, surprising you at how it started with his usual buttery smoothness, before cracking with a thick gulp as his words trailed of. 'Never leave without me.'

'I promise, as long as you don't leave without me.'

He shakes his head. 'You never leave me. Not even for a moment.'

Sometimes, when the two of you are older, he still comes stealing into your room at night, wiping his nose with the back of his hand as his lips wobble into a frightened frown. Turns out, as he draws the covers back and comes reaching in for you, he had another nightmare that pirates had come to steal you away from him again. With an aching sigh for how stricken he looked, how desolate, you let him claw at your shirt and bury his head into the side of your neck until the rest of the world melted away.

He kissed you again, that night. When the feel of his legs strewn familiarly between your own began to burn against his skin, and the weight of hand perched over his thrumming heart became too heavy to bear in secret. With nothing but the light streaming like shards of pearly stars through the porthole to betray a moment so special, so longed for, Sanji let his eyelashes flutter close as he slowly... slowly pressed his lips against your cheek again.

This time, his eyes widened in shock as the feeling of your hand gripping at his jaw and turning his face straight on to your own. Before he can even open his mouth in confusion, the sweet pressure of your lips pressed against his top one. For a moment, Sanji doesn't move an inch: doesn't even breath, not even processing that the thing he’s spent every moment of his waking and sleeping life wishing for ever since he found you on that boat was actually happening, right here right now. He tries really hard to stop his whole body from shaking, as his silky lashes finally falter shut against the top of your cheeks and he tries to focus his whole attention on the way your plush lip seems to press so perfectly against his own.

When he finally pulls away, he lets out a loud 'OW' as he pinches his arm.

'What did you do that for!?'

'I had to double check this wasn't a dream, my sweets!'

And then he's on you again, like a ravished man gasping for air. God, he wasn't sure if soulmates were real, but when your top lip pulled down against his, and he could feel the thud of your heart synch against his own beneath the tips of his fingers, if he didn't know that he was yours.

He stays in your room a lot more often after that, using it as an excuse for you to help him button up his shirt during sleepy mornings, smiling at the feel of your fingers as they knocked against the muscles of his chest. It was also his favourite part of the day - the good morning kiss the two of you shared before you raced down to be at your shifts before Zeff decided to knock your heads together.

One time you forgot to give him one, too distracted by one of the sous chefs busting into your room with a bloodied nose and a chipped front tooth, whistling through the gap as he begged you to come down to the main foyer and help him break out a fist fight that had started between two gangs of rival pirates. The pout on Sanji's face that day was enough to make even the most bounty-heavy pirate's knees tremble. Every other chef steered way clear of his station, watching the arch of his back and the jaw in his muscle jump as he busied himself by frying his steak of tuna, so gutted at the loss of just one kiss. Not angry, no: just grief stricken, because this man seriously just adores you that much.

When you finally get your lunch break, the first thing you do is throw your napkin down on the kitchen ground and grab Sanji by his suit collar, enjoying the surprise tilt of his head as he drops his spoon onto his serving tray and allows you to lead his feet backwards to the fire exit. As soon as he's outside, you slam him gently against the wooden beams of the Baratie restaurant, and kissed him silly to make up for it. His look of trusting confusion suddenly melt into jumping heart eyes when your knee slides up between his thighs to try and pin him in place. His breathing comes out in harsh, shallow gasps between ferocious kisses, and you have to press him back against the wall every time he comes arching forward to follow your head for even more kisses. No, this was about you making him feel good. And by goodness, as your tongue pressed against the seam of his lips and tentatively ran over his front teeth, if he wasn't two seconds away from falling to his knees right there and then.

When you let him go, he slides down the wall like putty until he's sitting with legs stretched out and both his suit and hair a ruffled mess. He's literally never been more deliriously happy in his whole life.

Your favourite time of the day is when the restaurant closes, and the two of you finally have the kitchens to yourselves. Once you've tossed your aprons back onto the rack with a tired sigh, the only thing that can cheer you up is the sound of Sanji kicking his chair back with the toe of his shoe, and the sight of him beckoning you over to him with that tilted head and pearly beam of his. Mmh, how safe you feel, how loved as you collapse down to sit on his knees, and he tucks you in between the brackets of his arms in a vice so tight it could match any Marine knot.

You take one of his hands off the pen he was holding, turning his palm round to face you so you could fiddle with the rings he was wearing. You draw one up, curling his finger before your eyes, before slotting one off and sliding it onto your own ring finger. It was the one his father had given him: one he so loathed to wear, and yet felt guilt bore down too heavily on his conscious to ever take it off. You turned the one on top of it, one you know Zeff had given him after his first day working at the Baratie, and you smiled at the memory.

'You know', you start, still fiddling with his hand, feeling him shift his thighs as you pressed a gentle kiss on the pointer finger you were currently grasping onto. 'I may just have to keep this one.'

'Oh yeah?', he says dreamily, and you could feel his grin growing as he hid his burning face in the nape of your neck. 'Don't worry sweetheart. One day, once I find the perfect one, I'll give you a ring of your own.'

The two of you sneak out and share cigarettes out the back door a lot, where Sanji steps forward and kisses you like a man possessed every time you pinch the stub from out of his mouth and draw it along your bottom lip teasingly. When you try to get him to go back in, he just wraps his arms around your waist and lifts you up, spinning you around to stop you from leaving him alone. Laughing, you try to shove him off, swatting at the hands that form a tight clasp over your belly button, until his large fingers finally slide down to hold your waist. You glance behind you, smirking at the way his eyes are tightly shut in euphoria as ducks down, chest nearly enveloping in his desperation to reach your face again. His kisses become sloppier: smoke stained as they leave wet trails up your jaw, before he finally gives in and tries to make you laugh one last time by nibbling at the lobe of your ear.

Whenever he has a fight with Zeff, you have to hold him afterwards. The feel of your fingers curling the hair at the nape of his neck, or rubbing soothing circles into the sore muscles of his shoulders stops the furious darts of air from flaring his nostrils almost immediately.

Man has blaring heart eyes 100% whenever he's in a fight with rowdy customers, and you get to kick the flashy knife out of the last one's hand before the pirate could launch straight for Sanji's neck. He tilts his head at you with those amazed eyes, a gentle smile growing almost shyly on his face like a secret wink, before he throws his now empty plate at the pirate trying to sneak up behind your back. The crash echoes out through the booth area, a cry so furious: so full of rage that anyone would try and dare hurt you, that it makes all the remaining pirate crews crawl out towards the door on their hands and knees.

Stitching each other up afterwards is a motherfcking mess though, that Zeff straight up just abandons all hope of being able to use his kitchen. With a defeated rub of his pounding temples, he lets the door slam shut on his heel because he just can't deal with the two of you. He'd much rather pick up a brush and start sweeping bits of crushed and splattered asparagus off the floors than have to watch you to battle it out in a stiff competition of who could be more sickeningly, maddingly in love with the other. Between you standing between Sanji's entrapping thighs, closing you in tighter so you could have full access to kiss his bobbing Adam's apple as you use a rag to swipe bits of dry sauce off his neck, and him throwing his head back and whimpering, Zeff was going to go insane. Even worse, as soon as you're finished, Sanji's reaching between your fingers to lick split consomme off your nose.

The two of you are literally insufferable, and if every one apart from Zeff doesn't find it the cutest thing I-

When Luffy comes and wrangles Sanji into joining his crew, the chef's first thought is to be distraught. He seeks you out straight away, nearly breaking some poor fisherman's pole as he tries to hurdle over it and grip onto your shoulders, making you drop the barrel of dried meats you were carrying from Luffy onto the planks and watching Luffy nearly dangle off the edge of his ship to stop it from rolling into the ocean.

'Y/n- I- I can't go!'

'You're hardly scared!'

'I'm not scared of going, I'm terrified of going without you!'

You let him pour his heart out for a moment, before stopping his rambling, near sobbing mess of a sentence by bopping the tip of his nose. You giggle, swiping some hair from his forehead. 'Sanji, Luffy asked me to come first. I promised I wouldn't go without you, and I meant it.'

You manage to unlatch his twitching hand from your left shoulder, and give it an almost imperceptible squeeze. The tears that threatened to fall from his eyes finally cascade down, although he's so relieved that he's smiling through the blurriness. You swipe them away with your free thumb, finally, after all these years, feeling the squeeze of your hand that Sanji gives you back, before he envelops you in a breath taking hug.

'Awww, you guys are so sweet!', Luffy calls out from where he's hanging by his sandal off the railing of his ship. 'But could someone give me a hand before my hat falls into the waves? That would not be very cool.'

The first thing the two of you do once you're on The Going Merry is to find your bunk. Sanji isn't very subtle when he kicks your door shut with his heel, and comes scampering towards you like an upended sand crab, pinching for you until he's hefted you up over his shoulder and has unceremoniously landed you in your shared hammock. He's quick to jump in, straddling you as the hammock sways back and forth with the commotion.

He nearly starts crying again when he sees a flash of silver poke out from underneath your neckline; he grazes his hand over the chain, recognising it as his father's ring you had taken months ago. The one he had hated so much. The one you had tried to save him from. A small piece of him. A weight you tried to bear for him. A reminder of how much he was loved.

A confused Zoro, not realising there are new crew members on board, follows the sound of Sanji's voice crooning out how much he adores you, and how he loves you more than every star in the sky, down past the window on your bedroom door. Let's just say, he's not very impressed when he catches sight of the hammock swinging wildly from side to side, and an array of clothes thrown out and discarded in a mess around it.

#one piece #sanji #one piece imagine #sanji imagine #sanji x reader #sanji headcanons #opla #monkey d luffy #zoro #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji imagine #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji headcanons

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kisakis-boyfriend · 6 months

Note

Scenario thirst/request: It’s already canon that Kaveh can’t handle his alcohol, but once he gets together with Reader he seriously needs to be cut off. Bars are gonna start denying him service bc instead of his normal complaints about some work client, he’s now complaining to any poor soul in the vicinity about how Reader’s cock is so big it’s impossible to take. Also won’t shut up about how they haven’t fucked him in ages (since yesterday) so they obviously think he’s hideous and don’t love him anymore. To top it all off he’s literally saying all of this while draped over Reader’s lap. He won’t stop whining until Reader drags him out the tavern and fucks him stupid in the alley around back.

Pairings: Kaveh x reader

Warnings: Male!reader, dom/top!reader, sub/bottom!Kaveh, handjob, biting, whiny Kaveh, semi-public sex

Genre/Format: Smut; Short scenario

Author's Note: Your mind 😳 I want to break Kaveh so badly ugh

Please check my blog title to verify whether requests are closed or not! Thank you!

The plan was to have a casual drink or two at the tavern, order a bit of food and maybe split a dessert with your beloved. You should have known better than that...

Now your beloved was whining to the tables next to yours about how your “ginormous monster cock” was just too biiiig! He can't handle taking the entire thing in his little ass but you make it fit anyways 🥺

The guests look on with irritated expressions and you mouth apologies at everyone...Kaveh's weight is sprawled out across your lap while he continues to moan and groan that it's “so so soooo biiiig–” You pinch the bridge of your nose and gulp down more of your drink as Kaveh's slender fingers tug at your shirt, drawing your attention downwards

The saddest, most pathetic expression makes it's way onto his face as he complains that, “You haven't fucked me in foreeeverrr- D'you not like me anymore...?” He slurs, pouting and sniffling. Another patron seated across from you makes eye contact and smirks, shaking their head. Everyone in the damn building can probably hear your partner's voice, seeing as alcohol tends to make him louder than usual...guess there's only one way to fix him now

“Heeeeyyy...don't push me off of– Aah!” Kaveh's startled noise draws even more attention towards the two of you as you drag him out of the bar by his arm. Passing by the owner and tossing a large pouch of mora onto the counter for all of the trouble. The blond protested the entire way out, attempting to grab the door frame so that you couldn't drag him along, though he was a bit too drunk to see straight enough to grab anything...

“Ow, owowow ooooowww!! Y/nnn...what's gotten into yo-oouu...?” Kaveh hiccuped. Your eye twitched in annoyance while your hands found their way onto the wall next to your partner's head, caging him in

“What's gotten into me? What's gotten into you! Mr. ‘My partner's cock is too fucking big uwu’?!” You whisper-yelled. Boring into Kaveh's accusatory eyes as he stammered, trying to form a response but getting cut off by your strong hands flipping him so that his torso was now pressed against the nearby wall. “If you're going to embarrass me in front of dozens of people, then I'm going to embarrass you in this alley. Whatever attention you draw is your own fault.”

At first, he did try to stay quiet, but your cock was actually pretty big and it caused him to have loose lips, especially with the added intoxication from a few drinks...

Kaveh's ass was red and sore after a while of pounding him into oblivion. Your dick was reaching all new places inside of him as you slid in and out vigorously, using every bit of leverage at your disposal to fuck into him faster and rougher, even if it meant that you'd have to carry him home afterwards. Whatever it took for your own tipsy mind to find peace with this punishment

Several instances of footsteps were heard during all of this. Probably people that picked up Kaveh's loud wails and moans, screaming “Cum-cumming—!! ” multiple times as you jerked him off while destroying his hole. His poor, sensitive shoulder was littered with angry bite marks from your own orgasms across the night. All of this would serve as a reminder the next morning; a reminder to work on biting his tongue whenever he drank

Reblogs are extremely appreciated <3

#my writing #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact #kaveh #kaveh smut #kaveh x reader #sub kaveh #male reader #dom reader #top reader #scenario #requested

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ancuninfiles · 1 month

Text

Your Peace

Screenshot: @cheekylittlepupp GIF: @astarionposting

An enormous thank-you to @gelican-gelicant (Gelican AO3) for beta-reading tf out of this. (and being my first beta-reader uwu). I highly recommend checking out their works, as they are my number 1 favourite.

M/F Astarion x Female Tav - 9.8K words Warning: Graphic depictions of violence Summary: Astarion is tactful and precise, while Tav fights like a brute with no decorum, which leaves her badly injured after every battle. Astarion teaches barbaric Tav a lesson by besting her in hand-to-hand combat, but Tav wants Astarion's hands on her in more ways than one.

Tags: predator/prey, p in v sex, vaginal fingering, choking, oral sex (female receiving), play-fighting, rough sex, feral Astarion, feral Tav, light bondage, smut and fluff, 2 sex scenes, realization of feelings, mildly dubious consent, aftercare, soft Astarion, blood loss, vampire bites, creampie

Read on AO3 (Recommended)

It had been another uneventful day, each one bleeding into the next; another goblin-overrun village to loot, another set of monsters to bargain with - this time, a surprisingly intelligent gaggle of ogres; and one more day without a solution in sight for the damned tadpoles invading their brains.

The sun setting on the camp, the group began to shed their armour. Astarion heard the clinking of mail and breastplates reverberate throughout the clearing; but not a sound from Tav's tent, who often opted to go without. Preferring close combat, she always felt it somehow hindered her ability to fight well - she insisted on her preference for lightweight leather and linen, at the cost of returning to camp covered head-to-toe in not only the blood of their enemies but her own as well - a perpetual caul of intermingled ichor.

This never seemed to bother Tav, however. If anything, she viewed battle scars as an honour, never complaining about a wound that didn’t reach her internal organs. But Astarion didn’t match her cavalier attitude, eyeing her scored skin with unease.

His approach was in stark contrast to hers, talented with a bow and arrow as he was, and nearly invisible when striking from the shadows. He followed a simple rule: to strike and to not be struck. The signs were subtle when he initiated a battle - not a cry or shout from an enemy spotting him - but by a foe falling to the ground with a punctured jugular, or tumbling to the ground with an arrow between their eyes that they hadn’t even seen coming.

His technique and precision earned him an unspoken right to first blow in most of their assaults, whereas Tav's methods in battle were the opposite; though sloppy and uncalculated, she was a hard hitter. While he struck the first blow silently, she oft landed the finishing blow with a bang - finishing what he started. Astarion was never one to blanche at the sight of blood, but not every one of their companions were so jaded to seeing crushed skulls with brains spilling out; Gale could often be found emptying his stomach after the more gruesome of the massacres Tav created.

While their symbiosis was effective, Astarion had bitten his tongue for weeks to keep from chiding Tav’s tactless strategy - or lack thereof. Despite her rugged constitution, she could not be infallible forever, and he did not want to be caught mid-battle with their best fighter downed on the day she learned that lesson the hard way. Tav was going to end up in the enemy's hands, or dead. As his travel-mates relaxed, he fretted over this thought and realized unsettlingly that the thought of her bloodied and limp turned his stomach infinitely more than the sight of a hundred of the skulls that she crushed like old fruit.

It was then that an idea came to him. He’d show Tav how easily he could best her in a fight - then she would start taking her self-preservation more seriously. Having gone a full day with barely a speck of trouble, he knew they both had stamina for sparring. He could challenge her to hand-to-hand combat, proposing it as a game.

And from what he knew of Tav, impulsive and brutish as she was, there was no way she would turn down his proposition.

__________

The sun had begun to fall, only a sliver of daylight colouring the sky in purple and amber hues. Astarion was washed up and in fresh night clothes, and Tav sat by the fire, warming her hands. Astarion approached from across the tall flames, standing in front of her with his hands on his hips.

"Hey Astarion," she said dully, before gazing back down at the fire and hugging her knees.

"Hi, dear." He eyed her inquisitively. "Bored?"

Tav looked back up at him with wide eyes. "Yeah, well - we didn't even get to murder any evil bastards today." She averted her gaze downwards before mindlessly rubbing the scars on her forearm. “It helps take my mind off of things. The pain, I mean. It gives me something else to focus on.” She let out a heavy sigh.

Astarion paused before responding. Her words were befuddling to him, planting a seed of worry in his mind. He had plenty of things to keep his mind from drifting to, whether that be his inevitable clash with Cazador or the ever-looming threat of illithid transformation; so he would sew or read, like a normal person. Pain was something to be avoided, not sought after in some hapless attempt at distraction.

”Are you aware that you're a bit self-destructive?" He asked, crossing his arms and clicking his tongue. He shook his head at her. "My dear, we all need you alive. You can't keep throwing yourself to the lions at every opportunity."

"Well, it’s worked for me so far." She frowned pensively, gazing into the flames and continuing to stroke the bumps of scar tissue across her forearms.

Astarion knelt to her level, tilting his head from side to side and lifting his shoulders in a gesture of indifference. "Eh - that’s correct, so far. You’ve managed to keep all your limbs attached, but I would be remiss if I didn’t insist that it’s not . . . sustainable behaviour." He offered her a smile to soften the blow of his criticism, which she returned with a withering stare.

Tav rolled her eyes. "Hmm,” she said, finally looking up at him, “you think you're stronger than me? Is that it?"

"Well, no,” he said, standing again, “but I don’t think it’s a matter of opinion that I leave the battlefield with the same amount of casualties, yet far fewer scars.” He held out his hand. "I have a, er, proposition of sorts."

Tav looked up at him quizzically as the wind blew the fire smoke sideways. "What kind of proposition?"

"Well," he began, "I suggest we find a spot in the woods and play a game. No weapons, no tools. Hand-to-hand combat, just you and I. If I win, you’ll let me teach you how to complete a battle without becoming horribly mangled each and every time. If you win, I’ll leave it, and you can keep on fighting like a rabid animal with no further complaint on my end." His eyes held a devious twinkle despite his nonchalant tone. "So, what do you say?"

Astarion knew he had succeeded in appealing to her competitive nature when she grinned like a child challenged to a footrace. "Well that’s not fair - you challenge me on a day like today, when I sit here craving bloodshed? How could I say no? Let's do it!"

He smiled with satisfaction. Insatiable, he thought.

As she stood, he was already pinpointing her weakness. Today, she would learn the downside of fighting mindlessly. She would learn, one way or another, to keep her head on a swivel - so he wouldn’t have to fret every time she left his sight.

He held out his hand. "We're going to have so much fun, darling," he said, smiling his scoundrel’s smile.

This was going to be easy.

__________

The last light from the sun disappeared from the horizon as they waltzed to a clearing in the woods.

When they arrived at a suitable glade, Astarion placed his hands on either side of Tav's shoulders and carefully repositioned her. "You stand here." He said.

She obliged and nodded her head, unable to bite back her giddiness

He fought the urge to praise her for being such an obedient pup, at the risk of incurring her contrarian nature. But he loved how much trust she put in him - a foreign and welcome feeling. It was a strange swell of pride in his diaphragm that had only grown since she first let him drink her lifeblood; a feeling that he had begun to grow attached to. Every stirring and sound from her caused a mirrored reaction in his chest - self-preservation on his part, surely, and nothing else; his body, simply securing the safety of its self-replenishing food source.

Astarion stalked 10 feet away from Tav before wheeling around to face her. Tav was already crouched, tense and savage.

He groaned internally. How helpless she is, he thought. She’s already given it all away, every move announced before we’ve even started.

But this wasn't a lesson yet - it was still a game. He would give her one practice round, before driving his lesson home.

"Alright, listen up." He cleared his throat. "Ground rules: No weapons, as you already know. And we fight til one of us is prone - no killing one another, if you please; I would hate to waste more coin on that stingy skeleton's magic." With a coy glance, he added, "Oh - and I'm not going to go easy, dear. I’d expect the same from you." He smirked and stood in an upright position, examining his nails.

He could see without even glancing up that she was practically frothing at the mouth. She looked like a fragile doe, practicing its most menacing and barbaric battle stance. Astarion’s undead heart fluttered. If it were not so pathetic, it might be hopelessly endearing. He wondered if the others ever noticed that duality of natures in Tav - secretly, he hoped they hadn’t. Some dark corner of his heart whispered that her nature ought only to be his to see. The others could cringe and wince at her animality as they liked; and only he would see the beauty that lay under the butchery.

She nodded her head and readied herself further, teetering from left to right.

"Ready?" Astarion asked.

Tav simply nodded again as she swayed back and forth, holding his gaze..

"Set."

Her pupils widened, and her heels dug into the ground, which delighted Astarion to no end, though he dared not show it.

"Go."

Tav charged Astarion, kicking up dirt and sticks in her wake. Astarion readied himself and bent his knees. He could see plain as day not only that she was preparing to tackle him, but the angle she aimed for; the direction of her gaze and lack of any grace or guise gave away every move, long before she made it.

All he had to do was step aside.

She looked behind her, rage in her eyes fueled further by adrenaline, but Astarion was nowhere to be seen. She stood there in her battle stance, with breath heaving, head whipping around in a panic.

Not but 5 seconds later, Astarion had kicked the backs of Tav's knees with his shin and grabbed her ponytail. He ripped her to the ground by her hair with his left hand, and her knees folded beneath her completely. He gained further purchase, clasping his fingers at the nape of her hairline and scraping his nails against her scalp. He sat astride her thighs, locking her under his weight.

Quick and precise, he snaked his right hand up to grasp her neck with crushing pressure before letting go of her scalp. His fingers could nearly wrap completely around the meagre girth of her swan-like neck. But he had promised not to hold back - so he pulled her head about a foot off of the ground by her throat.

This all happened so fast that Tav had not even caught a breath before she registered she was caught in his chokehold. She startled, attempting to plant a right hook on the square of his jaw but he dodged and then lunged his head forward to bite deeply into her wrist with his whole maw. He didn't try to drain her, but the gesture let her know that he could have; the taste of her in his mouth, warm and heady, was only an additional perk.

Tav yanked at her arm, which affected nothing but the width of the wounds as her skin tore further under his fangs.. Tav groaned at the pain and Astarion smiled into the bite, the red of her blood dripping down his face marking victory. Tav used her left hand to try and pry herself away from Astarion's strangling grasp but she was significantly weaker from the lack of oxygen supply to her brain.

She continued to wince and squirm to no avail under his blood-red sneer, but it seemed to only egg him on further. His pupils blew wide, and he finally resembled the predator he was. His jaw tightened on her wrist while his hand mercilessly squeezed her throat, a boa constrictor toying with its prey

Her ferocity only spurred the flame within him. Only when her face began to go purple did he bring his unoccupied wrist to her mouth, a mocking offering of a chew toy.

If she would not tap out to end their game, he would win when she would inevitably faint away. But she bit anyway - a final fuck-you salute before she drifted into unconsciousness, of blunt teeth pressing pathetically with a slackening jaw.

Astarion laughed at her with a mouth full of flesh as he moved his wrist back and forth, watching her fight her losing battle to the last breath. His eyebrows canted upwards. Adorable, he thought. As if she still stands a chance.

He leaned forward and lifted her head further until they were only inches apart, but Tav continued to look back at him with unfaltering determination. Tav’s bleeding wrist nestled in his mouth, dripping beads of crimson onto her paling cheeks. Astarion screwed up his face, letting loose a deep, guttural growl, scarlet fluid bubbling and spattering from his lips to her face. Her lashes fluttered as she drifted away. The last sound she made before the world went black was a soft whimper, her feeble attempt to mimic his growl.

Astarion let go of her throat and her wrist gently then, softly lowering her to the ground. He removed the heel of his palm from her moist lips, a string of saliva connecting them.

He knew he had to act fast - he guessed he had ten seconds or less before she would regain consciousness, with perhaps another ten before she logged what was going on.

He tore her shirt into a long strip with his teeth, leaving her upper body in nothing but her small clothes, discarding the spare scraps of her shirt beneath her. He dismounted, moving to tie her wrists together above her head, quickly and tightly. Tav convulsed back to consciousness as the blood made its way back to her brain. He then tied the rest of the fabric around the base of a tree that was a foot behind her, fastening her to it.

Tav’s eyes opened slowly as she lay in the dirt, unmoving and silent. Astarion knelt beside her head and swiped her bleeding arm with his finger before inserting it into his mouth. He removed his digit with a pop before placing a gentle hand on her bloody cheek. He slowly caressed her with the backs of his fingers.

He had lately begun to experience a creeping paranoia that she was on to him - he had been spending more time around her. Was she aware of his burgeoning adoration? How he wanted the best for her, and how he hoped that would be him? The feeling gnawed at his cold heart. A lovesick puppy, he chided himself internally, all because she had shared her blood with me.

But no - it was more than that. For once in his life, someone listened to him; made him feel like he mattered. While the other companions were resistant to Astarion’s suggestions, Tav was attentive, thoughtful even.. Even when she didn’t agree, she never hesitated to take his opinion into careful consideration; To make him feel that his thoughts held weight.

Her skin, now spattered black and red with drying blood, felt so soft as he brushed his fingers on her supple cheek with painstaking tenderness. He let the adoration he felt pour through his gaze as her eyes began to flit open.

“Hi, darling.” He smiled.

Her eyes locked with his adulatory stare. “H- hi.”

“It looks like you’ll be taking tact lessons with yours truly. Are you ready for your first lesson?”

Her cheeks began to flush and her skin suddenly felt hotter. He had hoped that his affection would disarm her; and judging by the flush on her cheekbones, he had been right.

Tav scrunched her eyes and wriggled her arms. She realized that her hands were bound.

She spoke softly. “I’m not upset, but why the bindings?”

“Just a precautionary measure,” he replied, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “I wasn’t sure if you would accept defeat or not, charmingly stubborn as you are.”

Astarion removed his hand from Tav’s face, and he looked her up and down. He noticed that her legs were pressed together and her toes were wiggling.

Tav let out an enormous sigh and looked up at him with half-lidded eyes. Her knees came off the ground and her soles pressed to the earth. Her legs swayed anxiously and an endearing smile crept across her lips.

Astarion could sense that Tav had gotten excited. It wasn’t odd to him that the elation of battle sparked a desire within her - he had seen it happen before; often times, particularly after an exceptionally gruesome battle, leaving Tav dripping from head to toe in gore, he had found it difficult to resist propositioning her right then and there. He held back out of respect, but he could see now that she wanted him as he had wanted her, unmistakeably.

“Now what?” Tav asked, her restless limbs tugging and wrestling her bindings futilely.

Astarion traced a line down the side of her ribcage down to her hip, watching her face all the while as her breathing hitched and a small shudder ran through her.

“What would you like, dear? You suddenly seem so needy . . .” he teased.

“Astarion I - you were amazing,” she started, “If we can duel more often, I think - I think I would like that. There are other games we can play to pass the time, too. Like hide-and-seek or, uhm . . . other things?” She bit her lip and her hips gave an adorable wiggle.

So, a hands-on learner who likes to have my hands on her, he thinks to himself. Got it.

“Other things?” he breathed, leaning in closer to her face. He placed an arm on either side of her head and bent his elbows, lowering his lips to brush against her ear. “What did you have in mind?” he whispered in a low voice.

She choked out a sigh. Astarion placed a chaste kiss on her cheek beside her ear. He came to rest on his elbows as he stroked her fringe back with his left hand, caressing her head repeatedly.

Tav gulped before saying, “You could keep touching me if you want. You could touch me all over.”

“Is that what you want, my love?” Astarion removed the hand from her hair and snuck it to her breast under her small clothes. He teased her nipple with his thumb before pinching it sensually. He grasped her mound firmly.

Tav squeaked, and the pace of her breath quickened, adding to the appeal of her flushed cheeks and parted lips.

“Yea,” she moaned with abandon, “please. Touch me, bite me. I need you. I want you - ah -” she groaned as he continued to tease her, her beet-red face twisting in desperation, “inside me - please!”

Astarion growled in her ear. Tav's words went straight to his groin, which was now uncomfortably straining against his pants. Tav looked mortified on top of needy. It must've taken more courage for her to admit what she wanted than it took for her to fight a hoard of goblins solo.

Astarion kissed up Tav's cheek until he found her lips. He kissed her softly before seeking entrance to her mouth with his tongue. She moaned and opened her mouth for him, and he brought her into a fervent kiss.

Their lips remained locked passionately as Astarion snaked his left hand from her breast to her back. His arm hooked around her and he squeezed her tight against his chest. He broke the kiss and Tav whimpered softly. His lips trailed down to her neck, where two puncture marks were healing over from a week ago. He kissed and sucked her flesh in and around the spot where he had bitten before, causing beautiful red welts to decorate her throat.

Astarion used his knee to pry Tav's legs open where he would rest his own pelvis against hers, pressing his hardened length against her core. His right arm came around her back to hold the back of her head tenderly. His lips searched for hers again and he pressed his entire face and body into her, hugging her tightly against him as her legs wrapped around his torso.

Their kiss was bruising, and Astarion groaned noisily into Tav's mouth. He took her lip into his teeth and pierced the flesh shallowly. Tav moaned longingly before Astarion began to suck on her bottom lip with indignation. He brushed his fingers through the hair on the back of her head and grasped it as he had before.

His hips came forward to press firmly against Tav's heat, and a whimper escaped her throat.

Astarion repeatedly rutted into her, her wetness soaking through both her pants and his. She whined indigently at the loss of contact when he pulled away, letting go of her hair and lifting himself from her.

He sat back on his heels and placed a hand on either of her knees before rubbing both hands down her thighs, and up to her waist. She squirmed, and he grabbed her waistband. Her feet pressed into the dirt as she lifted her pelvis cooperatively from the ground to help ease the bottoms off. He took her pants and her underwear off in one motion, exposing her soaking folds to the cool night air.

He pried her trembling knees apart and lowered his face to her cunt. He licked a thick stripe through her folds, hooking his arms under her thighs. Astarion gripped her flesh and pulled himself into her, sucking vehemently on her clit. Tav writhed and cried in his grasp, but he locked her in place as he played with her nub mercilessly. Astarion's wet mouth growled into her cunt as it began to spasm and clench emptily.

Astarion sat up and wiped his mouth with the back of his arm. Tav was flushed and panting, her tits heaving with every breath. Astarion stood up to fully remove his top, and then his pants. His cock sprang free, pre-cum already soaking the tip. He stared down at Tav admiringly and watched her squirm about, pressing her legs together helplessly. She continued to struggle with her fastenings, her wrists beginning to turn as red as her cheeks as she looked up at him with glossy, pleading eyes.

The unfettered heat of her gaze made his chest tighten. It wasn't until then that he had begun to admit that his besetting and ceaseless thoughts towards Tav truly bordered on obsession.

The space he granted her was out of propriety alone, but within him lay a deep and unyielding desire to be with her wholly, body and soul; he wanted to consume her, and to let her consume him. He wanted to welcome her thorns with open arms and bleed out into her. He wanted to bite her until he covered her body so thoroughly in cuts that her blood rendered her supple skin unviewable, behind a shimmering scarlet mask of sacred ambrosia.

He knelt and climbed atop her. His hard cock came to rest between her hot, wet folds as her legs opened and wrapped around him once again. She was squirming eagerly beneath him, arching her back and using the strength of her legs to pull him closer.

He growled at her grinning wickedly, and grabbed her face to roughly pry her mouth open. She relaxed under him and closed her eyes. His tongue invaded her mouth, licking her lips and searching for her tongue. He let go of her face and rested his left elbow beside her head. He used his right hand to fist her hair and planted a violent kiss on her already kiss-swollen lips. Her eyes watered with pleasure as her lashes flickered shut.

She breathed tiny quiet groans into his wanting mouth as he took complete control of her lips. He tugged her head back and to the side, her hair tie falling out, and then aligned himself with her drenched core with his free hand. His teeth grazed her pulse point teasingly. He sunk both his fangs and his cock fully into her at the same time, entirely inside of her as he latched onto her throat.

She cried in pleasure as he devoured her. Her blood coated his tongue and throat while he took generous gulps, his cock twitching and growing inside her with every gulp. Tav could no longer fight back her instinct to writhe, fully expecting to receive Astarion's wrath for not keeping still - but it never came. He simply gripped her hip with his other hand and then pulled almost fully out of her before snapping his hips into her, hard.

Tav let out a needy whine and Astarion groaned in a beastly tenor into her throat. He tore his head away from her, face messy with her blood. Astarion clutched her knees and watched her as he thrust into her at a punishing pace. He slithered his left hand down to her waist and his right hand reached up to apply pressure to her fresh puncture wounds with his fingers. He wrapped his hand around her throat gently as her bleeding slowed, while he rutted into her continuously. Tav’s pussy clenched around him.

He pulled his blood-soaked hand off of her throat and stuck a bloody finger into her mouth. She obliged and sucked on his digit obediently. His cock twitched, and he pulled his finger out of her with a pop. He hooked one of her legs over his shoulder and then leaned down into her to kiss her hungrily.

Astarion tasted her blood in her mouth, and the feeling that it gave him engulfed him. He ran his hand down her body with his nails, gently scraping her skin in his wake. He reached for her clit and started rubbing it mercilessly with his fingers. She was sopping wet, and the sound of their bodies echoed through the woods.

Tav's cunt clenched, seeming to pull Astarion into her further. She groaned needily into his violent mouth before their lips came apart. Tav's face, still an abstract painting of the spattering of her own life fluid, bunched itself in pleasure as she bore into his eyes. Shamelessly, he licked a stripe on her face, lapping the combined saliva and blood.

"Hmm,” Tav hummed delightedly, a smile spreading across her face. “You're - so good - to me, Astarion," she barely managed through her shallow panting breaths. He gazed at her devotedly. His undead heart skipped a beat at her words, and he felt a fluttering feeling in his stomach; but it was coloured with an undertone of conflict. In an existence defined for centuries by the imperative for safety and solitude, the yearning and aching feelings he had for Tav were unlike anything he had ever felt; They could neither be rationalized nor ignored - they ate at him naggingly and incessantly. Something about their coupling felt alien, as if it was something not of this world. He felt an overwhelming need to merge with her, to pass through her body as if they were one and the same.

He couldn't speak, he couldn't find the words - all he could do was growl from his stomach and slam into her faster and faster, smashing his body into hers. His thoughts and feelings overcame him, and his instincts took over. He continued rubbing her clit clumsily, and her cunt fluttered around his large member, milking him and crying in pleasure.

He lost himself in her. She was everything. Astarion unhooked his arm from her leg and removed his hand from her swollen bud. He wrapped both arms fully around her torso and slammed into her aggressively. He held her crushingly once again and nudged her chin up and to the side with his head. Astarion sunk his teeth into the untouched side of her neck, drinking greedily once more. Wet slapping sounds and feral groans filled the air.

Her blood flowed into him as if it were crimson ivy, channelling pathways through the ruined stone of a long-forgotten temple, latching onto every crevasse and crumbling the structure in its wake.

Astarion stiffly snapped his hips into her one last time, reaching into her deeper than ever before as he came. He unlatched his teeth and then licked Tav's throat. A small whimper escaped her. Astarion moved inside of her, pressing his cum into her hole with his cock and then slowly pulling out. He unlatched a hand from her torso to grab his member and place it between her folds to rub on her clit. She twitched and whined at the feeling.

He unhooked his other arm from her torso and simply sandwiched his hand between her ribcage and the ground. When he saw her face, her lips were pale and she wasn't able to hold her head up.

"Shit."

Finally able to think straight, he looked down with horror at the scene - he had gotten so carried away that he’d left her drained almost entirely. Her pulse was slowing, and he surely only had a matter of minutes before it stopped completely.

In a frenzy, he ripped her bindings free with his teeth, leaving them to dangle like a bracelet off her wrist. He pulled his own shirt over her head, putting on his pants in such a hurry that he neglected to put his shoes back on at all.

He scooped Tav up bridal style, rushing back to camp, directly to Shadowheart’s tent, lest he spend the few extra moments rummaging for a scroll only to look down and find her dead on arrival. The situation was dire.

"Pst!,” he rushed, standing outside the cleric’s tent. “Shadowheart, it's Astarion - I need your help, it's - it’s an emergency!" His voice trembled as he spoke.

Shadowheart groaned as she opened her tent flap. Astarion crawled into her tent with Tav in his arms while Shadowheart yawned and rubbed her eyes. She sat cross-legged across from Astarion. It took a moment for her eyes to focus, and to realize what lay in front of her.

Astarion sat on his heels, mouth still messily covered in blood - Shirtless, covered in dirt, sweat, and utterly damning evidence.

Tav lay completely limp in his arms, face and neck equally bloodied. Her throat was adorned with multitudinous hickies, and her lips were pale. Tav wore a piece of fabric around her wrist that dangled downwards about 6 inches, and her other wrist had a friction burn all around it as well as a bite covered with crusty blood. And, most ruinously, she wore nothing aside from the apologetic afterthought of Astarion’s shirt to hide her modesty.

It hadn't occurred to Astarion how bad this looked on him until now. Still, it was more important that Tav get the help she needed.

"Gods! What have you done to her, Astarion!?" Shadowheart raised her voice.

"Shh, we don't need everyone in camp bringing pitchforks to your tent right now - just please help Tav. I can explain," he said sincerely. His brows pinched up in a frown as he hung his head, mortified.

"Alright, but you’d better have a good excuse,” Shadowheart scolded. “I swear - if she wakes and tells me that your abuse was unwelcome, I will not hesitate to incinerate you."

"Ignis" a small flame appeared on her finger and she lit 2 candles in her tent.

She channelled bright blue energy into her body. The tent glowed cobalt and a sound similar to wind chimes filled the air. Shadowheart closed her eyes and raised one hand to face herself before chanting her incantation.

"Te absolvo."

The blue light encased Tav and her body twitched. The light faded and the colour slowly started coming back to her face.

Astarion let out a sigh of relief and he pulled Tav tightly into his arms, giving her a desperate hug. He rocked her back and forth in his arms and closed his eyes when he placed his chin over her shoulder and snuggled it into her.

Tav came to slowly and began to hug him back, squeezing him weakly and nudging her head towards his.

"Ahem," Shadowheart cleared her throat, "I hate to break up your reunion after Astarion nearly murdered you, but I do feel as if I am owed an explanation."

Astarion placed a firm kiss on Tav's head and he lowered her down. He held her under her armpits like a doll while he moved his legs to sit cross-legged, using his free arm to maintain balance. He then sat Tav upon his lap, facing Shadowheart.

Tav yawned, rubbed her eyes, and lolled her head back to his shoulder with closed eyes.

Astarion had hooked his arm around her waist to hold her steady. He hesitantly began to explain.

"Well, we decided to duel - for innocent fun - and got a bit carried away. Are you satisfied?"

"It seems as though you were the one that got carried away, Astarion. I don't see any bindings around your wrists. And where are her . . . garments? Actually, never mind; I don’t think I want to know." Shadowheart frowned deeply. "But Tav is riddled with bites, blood, and hickies. Gods, Astarion! If it wasn’t for her looking so comfortable with you, I would have killed you already."

"You could try, but I'll have you know I don't die easily these days," he said, screwing his face up defensively.

Tav winced. "Stop fighting, please." She clenched her right fist, grimacing as the wound left by the bite mark twinged. She looked up at Shadowheart. "Astarion and I made love. He tied me up because he thought I was going to be a sore loser after he won our fight, and then we made love on the forest floor."

The tent was blanketed in an awkward silence.

"Oh, don't tell me you've never been tied up and fucked before, Shadowheart. I know how Sharrans are."

Shadowheart's mouth fell agape and she paused. Her brows knitted together in a downwards cant.

"Just go."

Tav and Astarion shared a glance. They nodded at one another and then got up to exit Shadowheart's tent. Astarion offered Tav a hand and she obliged. She stumbled out of the tent like a newborn doe.

Tav offered him her wrist with the tie on it. “Help, please.” She smiled.

“Oh - yes.” He took her wrist gently and then expertly untied the knot before dropping the fabric on the ground.

‘Made love.’ Astarion reflected on Tav’s words. An electric feeling spread across his body and Tav’s blood rushed to his face. He suddenly found himself unable to breathe, not that he needed to anyway. He stood eerily still while zoning out into the embers of the snuffed fire pit. The full moon’s light wrapped around them like a veil.

“Astarion.” Tav grabbed his hand gently and stood between him and the embers. “Shall we go bathe in the river?” She smiled, searching for his eyes.

He paused and his mouth fell agape, and his brows angled downwards. He gazed back up at her before painting a disingenuous smile on his lips.

“Yes, of course.” He squeezed her hand.

“Come on.” Tav cheered as she led him towards the river.

‘Made love.’ The word replayed in his head over and over. ‘Is that,- is this what love is?’ The thoughts overwhelmed him. ‘Does she love me? Do I love her?’

He walked behind Tav with his head to the ground all the way to the riverside. When they had finally reached the water, he looked up to see the dark silhouette of Tav in front of the slow-moving water where the moonlight danced.

Tav lifted his shirt off of herself and plopped it on the large rock beside her, facing the water while taking a deep breath of the cool night air, her shoulders rising and falling. She stepped forward to dip her toes in the water, and then she slowly walked until she was waist-deep before looking back to Astarion who was standing there, watching her.

Astarion briefly witnessed Tav’s back, which was adorned with some sort of abstract pattern, not much unlike Astarion’s. He couldn’t quite make out if it was a tattoo pertaining to her heritage, or perhaps a birthmark. Tav’s hair dropped onto her back, covering most of it.

Astarions stomach tied a knot, and his heart felt as if it were about to burst out of his chest. His eyes were round and his lips were slightly parted. He felt frozen, like a deer in the headlights.

“The water is surprisingly warm compared to usual. Maybe it’s just because I’m so cold,” she giggled. She made a few more steps into the water and then submerged her wrists, causing her to wince in pain once more.

Astarion blinked himself back into the present when he heard her inhaling sharply through her teeth. He rushed his bottoms off and then hastily strode to catch up to her in the water, trailing white bubbles behind him.

“We should get you some healing potions after we’re done here.” He came up to rest a hand on her shoulder.

“No, I’m fine. I don’t want it,” she retorted.

This again. Tav’s ludicrous notion that pain would bring her peace, and somehow rest her mind. But Astarion knew pain; and he knew that wasn’t right.

“Tav,” he murmured, tilting his head to her and placing a tender hand on her cheek. “Please - let me help you.”

Tav simply frowned and looked away. She turned and plunged into the river, leaving Astarion with his hand in the air.

She disappeared under the water, but Astarion could hear her heart beating. He grinned and then sunk into the water slowly. He swam towards the sound of her thumping pulse, holding his unnecessary breath. He opened his eyes underwater and Tav swam to where her toes could barely touch the rocks at the bottom before she came up for a gasp of air.

She scrubbed the blood off of her face with her hands and then ran her fingers through her soaking hair.

Astarion sunk as low as possible in the water with empty lungs, swimming towards Tav. In one quick motion, he gained purchase on her ankle and pulled her below the surface.

He pulled her body under him with his tricep and grasped at her waist, forcing her lower. The water bubbled violently around her, obscuring her vision.

Astarion positioned them so they were upright underwater and facing one another. It was then that he pulled her in for a closed-mouth smooch, to which she reciprocated.

He swam them up to the surface and Tav gasped for air. They both grinned widely, and Tav’s brows raised.

“You little shit!” She splashed him in the face and he scrunched his features in response.

“It’s not my fault you’re such easy prey,” Astarion smirked, tilting his head down at her.

“You’re too fun. It’s becoming surprisingly harder for me to keep my guard up around you,” she stated.

Astarion blinked at her for a moment. Is that what this feeling is?

Her eyes closed and her face softened as she leaned in for a kiss. Their lips locked and they kissed slowly; strikingly different from their coupling in the forest, this was nice - comforting and peaceful.

Tav brought her legs up to straddle Astarion under the water. He held her with one hand on her bum and the other on the small of her back. Their embrace was languid and passionate.

When the kiss broke, their foreheads leaned on one another’s. Astarion closed his eyes. Within him was a burning chapel, crumbling to ash and set ablaze by the very person in his arms. He couldn’t speak even if he tried.

Tav placed her hand on his cheek, snaking it below his ear and rubbing her thumb on his cheekbone affectionately. They breathed in each other as they held one another in blissful silence.

Astarion felt his eyes begin to water, unbidden. He could feel Tav’s eyes on him, so he quickly dipped his head to her shoulder.

There was nothing about this that felt wrong - everything about this felt right, but within that there was discomfort. Astarion wanted to drown himself in his tears. Perhaps, he thought, this is what Tav feels when she seeks peace in her own pain.

Astarion couldn’t help but choke out a sob into Tav’s shoulder. She replied by squeezing him so tight that it pushed the air out of his lungs. She didn’t demand an explanation; she didn’t reject him; she simply held him, and held space for him.

The space between them was inconceivable. They couldn’t feel where one of them began and the other ended. Their bodies alloyed together like copper and iron.

Astarion wept into Tav, and Tav enveloped Astarion.

“Shh, you’re okay. I’m here.” Tav cooed, caressing the back of Astarion’s head. “I’m here.”

Astarion sighed and pulled his head back from Tav. He looked at her with a deep frown. She brought her thumb up and wiped his tears away.

“Hey,” she exclaimed, “you’re always safe to be like this around me. I hope you know that.”

Astarion paused, looking up at Tav with round eyes.

Tav started, “I - I’m not the best at this. I’m sorry. Just anytime you want to talk, or if you just want someone to be with you. You don’t have to deal with this alone.”

Astarion felt the cool, shallow waves wash over him. “I want to be the same for you.” He looked down, his brows canted upwards desperately. “I - I don’t know what this means, and I don’t understand what I’m feeling, but I do know that I want you by my side,” he said as his gaze shifted upwards to meet hers.

Tav smiled. “I want to be by your side as well.”

The water trickled through the canal and chimed on the shoreline. The light of the moon glistened on the water peaks. And there was Tav. Someone to rely on, perhaps even someone to trust.

“We should wash up, there’s still a bit of blood on your face.” Tav scrunched her brows and brought a wet hand to swipe the last bits of blood off of Astarion’s lips.

Astarion nodded in agreement and he splashed water onto the sides of Tav’s neck. Her flesh had been ravished, she adorned a necklace of purple and red bruises.

“You must drink a healing potion,” Astarion spoke softly.

“Astarion, I’ll be okay. I’ll explain to the others like I explained to Shadowheart, and everything will be fine.”

Astarion laughed in her face. “Firstly, I doubt they will take it as well as Shadowheart did, and that’s saying something. Secondly, it’s not about the other’s, darling, it’s about you. You must heal.”

“I’m sure I’ll feel better by tomorrow,” she said, downturning her lips.

“Is that what you want? To feel better?” Astarion spoke gently. “A health potion would make you feel better. You’re not fooling me, dear.”

“Well I just don’t want to waste supplies - and I can handle pain better than everyone in camp, I’m sure.” She gleamed, glazing herself up.

His face screwed up, “You are not a waste!” he growled at her. “I will not be speaking on this any further. Come, let’s go.”

She huffed in defeat as he carried her in his arms back to shore.

Her feet planted on the ground and she squeezed the water out of her hair. Astarion did the same by brushing his hair back with his fingers and shaking the water droplets off of his hand. He grabbed his pants and Tav threw his shirt over her head.

They held hands as they made their way back to Tav’s tent so that she could first grab her blankets and pillows before heading to Astarion’s tent for the night.

Tav led the way to Astarion’s tent. When they arrived, Astarion started organizing their things.

“Ignis.” he chanted, lighting a couple of candles with a small flame on his finger.

They worked together to carefully lay the blankets out, and Astarion searched his pack for a spare set of night clothes and a towel or two for him and Tav to share. He felt around his pack, hearing the clinking of bottles. Astarion pulled bottles out of his bag, examining each one before putting them back, until he found a red bottle with a cork enclosure. He set it aside and pulled his night clothes and towels from his bag.

Astarion handed a towel to Tav and she patted her hair dry with it. Astarion followed and ran his towel down his legs and over his shoulders before changing into his camp clothes. He then continued tidying up his pack as he sat on his heels.

“Your scars,” Tav started, “Do they mean something?”

Astarion turned his head from his pack to face Tav and he cringed.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I’m sorry.” Tav hung her head in shame.

Astarion took a deep breath and sighed. “It’s alright, your concern for me is adorable. In due time, my sweet. Tonight, I am more concerned about you.”

Astarion fisted a health potion and turned around completely to face Tav.

“You must drink this,” he ordered, shifting towards her and handing her the bottle.

Tav shimmied uncomfortably and sat with straight legs atop their blankets. “I told you already that I don’t need it.” Her face scrunched in annoyance.

“Fine,” he said. “If you want to make things difficult, then so be it.”

Tav watched with intrigue as Astarion uncorked the bottle and then poured half of it into his mouth. He set the bottle down and crawled over to her. The heels of her hands moved from her lap to press into the ground behind her as Astarion proceeded to mount her. Tav’s face and ears turned a deep shade of crimson and she stared up at Astarion as his face hovered above hers.

Astarion wrapped his arm around her torso, locking her arms to her ribcage. With his free hand, he grabbed Tav’s cheeks and pressed on her mandible with his fingers and thumb to pry her maw open. Tav’s eyes were wide as she watched him come closer.

Tav’s lip came apart and Astarion connected his mouth with her’s. The warm healing liquid poured from his mouth into hers. Tav closed her eyes and accepted her fate as she started swallowing the sweet liquid. Astarion could hear her heart racing - Gods, she was perfect.

He loosened his grip and started rubbing large, soothing circles on her back. Her lips were so warm and wet, that Astarion found it challenging to let go, but he did. Their noses folded against one another and their foreheads pressed together. Astarion tilted her head with a knuckle and placed a chaste kiss on her lips.

Astarion pulled away. “Good girl. Now will you finish the bottle or am I going to have to be creative again?” He smirked.

Tav squirmed under him and her nipples hardened visibly through the shirt that she was wearing.

Astarion reached back to grasp the bottle. “Open,” he commanded.

Tav’s eyelids were heavy with lust. She obeyed. She tilted her head back, and softly stuck out her tongue.

“That’s it,” he praised.

He started to slowly pour the liquid into her mouth. “Good girl. I’m so proud of you.”

Tav suddenly closed her mouth and swallowed. Astarion accidentally spilled some potion on her face and chest. His pants began to tighten.

Her eyes were wet and her chest was heaving. Her wounds looked almost entirely healed, other than some red dry skin where the puncture marks used to be.

Astarion mindlessly nudged the neckline of her shirt with a finger and it fell off of one shoulder, exposing the curve of her breast. He hastily placed the bottle down and leaned over to lick the spilled potion off of her chest. He grasped her ribcage with his left hand, and the back of her head with his right. He then licked up her neck to her face and mouth, making sure to clean all the leftover potion from her skin.

Tav’s mouth flew open and Astarion pulled her into a smouldering kiss. He lifted himself without breaking the kiss so that he could reposition himself between her legs before having her lie back on the pillow behind her. He reached his right arm down to her exposed heat and he searched through her folds with needy digits. She was remarkably wet.

Tav moaned deeply and bucked her hips forward, searching for more, but Astarion simply teased her folds with his fingers.

He broke the kiss and caressed her damp hair with his left hand. Tav’s lips were kiss-swollen and her skin glistened in the candlelight.

Astarion pulled back from her and grabbed the potion once again. This time, without having to ask, Tav opened her mouth as she did before. He poured the rest of the potion into her mouth and she swallowed eagerly. Astarion placed the empty bottle on the side of the bedrolls.

Tav’s legs were spread wide and her feet dangled in the air. She sat back on her elbows as she stared at Astarion with parted lips and knitted brows.

Astarion rewarded her by plunging two fingers inside her wanting hole. Tav’s mouth opened in a sensual “O,” her wet eyes and wet cunt both fluttering as she began grinding into Astarion’s hand.

Astarion groaned and then pulled his fingers out, leaving Tav empty and whining. He lifted his shirt over his head and threw it to the side. Astarion stood up and pulled his pants down. He threw his pants where his shirt had been thrown, and then he kneeled to Tav. His cock was already wet with precum dripping from the tip.

Tav reached down to play with her clit. She was rubbing firm circles on herself and she threw her head back. Astarion felt heat pooling in his lower abdomen at the sight of Tav. He threw his head back as well and then placed the head of his cock at the entrance of her hole. He stroked himself as his tip teased her folds.

Astarion groaned and grabbed the back of Tav’s thigh with his left hand. He stuck the whole of his tip into her and continued pleasuring himself. He looked down to where their bodies connected and his girth grew incredibly hard.

Tav was panting and Astarion was covered in sweat. Tav arched her hips into Astarion and captured his full length inside of her in one quick movement.

Astarion let out a deep sigh and he let go of his shaft. He reached to her clit and nudged her hand away before beginning to stroke her clit persistently.

Tav contorted and whined but Astarion did not stop playing with her. Her cunt clenched around him and her breath sped up to a dangerous pace.

“Astarion - I’m cumming!” She screamed, her body tensing like a longbow.

Tav’s cunt contracted around Astarion and he growled at the feeling, her pussy milking him. Her body went limp on the bedroll and her hole gushed spend down his shaft.

He reached for a pillow and placed it under her bum, The new angle allowing him to reach deeper than before.

Astarion glanced down and spat on Tav’s swollen bud. He pulled out and ran his cock along her saliva-covered clit, causing her to whine desperately before thrusting back inside her fully.

Tav hummed and wiggled her hips. Her body had completely relaxed.

Astarion began to thrust into her at an invariable pace. His grasp on her hips was tight, making indentations in her flesh. Lewd wet sounds echoed through the camp.

He stuffed her so deeply that his tip hugged her cervix with every snap of his hips. He used his grasp on her hips to cinch her onto his length, Tav’s tits bounced under her shirt at each pump. Her face was contorted in pleasure and her breath picked up again.

She lay like a precious doll, letting him fuck her hole to his heart’s content. Their juices seeped out the sides of his penetrating cock. The sight pulled Astarion deeper into his fuck drunken stupor.

Astarion's pace quickened and he fucked Tav hard, slamming into her punishingly.

A raging coil built within him. His hips faltered and then snapped into her, sheathing himself to the hilt. His breath stuttered as pleasure erupted from his chest and reverberated throughout his body. Thick, hot ropes of spend shot into Tav, coating her plush walls. He groaned needily and came forward, hanging his head. His whole body was moist with sweat. He stayed connected with Tav as he leaned into her, hovering over her on his elbows.

Tav’s cheeks were rosy. ‘The picture of health,’ Astarion thought. The pair took a moment to deeply gaze into one another’s eyes, searching, panting. Within Tav’s iris lay the storms of Saturn, violently rippling. Destruction and rebirth in every fleeting moment. On the surface, he saw nothing. There was no reflection gazing back at him, only the hypnotizing depths of her pupils which bloomed like chrysanthemums.

He wished he could see what she saw. He wanted to understand why she wanted him. After Cazador, he felt like an empty shell. Could one love a being so hollow? Love. Astarion didn’t know love. He had read about it in books, and had his victims sob to him drunkenly about husbands or wives. Love sounded painful and finite. Love sounded like a pool of crimson to drown in until your lungs fill as you inevitably succumb to your folly. The way he had seen it described was as if love were in every being, or that the universe itself were made of love.

‘Does Bhaal love his children? Did Cazador love his spawn? Am I loved? Am I capable of love?’

Another wave of overwhelming vibrations surged through his body. These thoughts made his stomach knot and his shoulders stiffen.

He rested his head on the pillow beside Tav as he completely collapsed on her, sighing on his decline. He fully embraced Tav in his arms, and she weakly hugged him back, running her hands gently along his mountainous scars.

The intimacy made him feel so whole, but so pathetic. He wanted to look into Tav’s soul without crumbling, as she did his. In times like these, he didn’t know when she could be ripped from him. It felt as if at any moment, she could decide she didn’t want to be around a snivelling mess like him anymore, and decide to up and leave him in the woods for the Gur to find.

She could choose Gale, or Shadowheart, or anyone else, and he couldn’t stop her. She had him in the palm of her hand and could destroy him, but for now, she chose to cherish him. Him - the hollow and hungry vampire who simultaneously knew only what it meant to give and what it meant to take; a transaction. That’s what he’d been for two hundred years, leaving a paper trail of victims in his wake. Forced to be a monster, and to do the bidding of an even more sinister monster.

There was a light, a single star. One final glimmer of hope. The tadpoles. The thing that granted him the ability to walk in the sun, to defy Cazador, and the thing that led him to Tav in the first place.

Tav, who was slowly drifting to sleep beneath him. Her breathing was restful and her arms held him softly.

Astarion pulled out of Tav and grabbed one of their towels from earlier. They were still damp and had to be hung outside, but he used it to clean Tav’s weeping core. She rested peacefully with open legs as he gently wiped their combined spend from her supple skin. Tav hummed happily.

He took the same towel and wiped himself thoroughly. He stalked outside of his tent and hung the towel on a line beside his other garments. He returned to the tent and Tav had rolled to her side and was looking at him. One of her hands was between her thighs for warmth, and the other was under her pillow. Her eyes were sleepy and wet.

Tav yawned and then patted the spot on the bed beside her, inviting Astarion to join her in respite.

“Let’s get you under the blankets, darling.” He frowned.

Tav sat up near her pillow, and then pulled the covers over herself, air bubbled under the sheets as they settled around her form. Astarion climbed in next to her and used a silver snuffer to snuff the candles out. Tav laid to face the back of his tent, and her back faced him.

Astarion shuffled in beside her, gazing at her back. Recalling what he’d seen down by the river, he noticed a collection of large scars that ran from either shoulder and crisscrossed in the centre. He tenderly ran his fingers down the scars, and Tav didn’t budge. They felt larger and more raised than his. These were no battle scars. Somebody had done this to her.

Red rage filled his mind. Her situation was worse than he thought. Pain was a tool for her, and a tool that was used on her, many times. To make her docile? To punish her? To bring others peace?

He wondered if the reason for the scars was the same reason why Tav felt comfort in her pain. Perhaps it was something used against her so frequently that it left a void when it was taken away. A void like the one within him.

Astarion wanted answers to his questions, he wanted to know who hurt her, and he wanted to make them pay.

But for now, she rests, and Astarion will embrace her until the sun gleams over the horizon.

‘I want to be your peace.’

___________

Notes: Oof, that was a doozy. I did get very carried away with this one. Now I know why other writers say that on here LOL. I know it seems like I've set this up to have more chapters, but I don't think I am ready to create muti-chaptered works yet. Also, I hate goodbyes and endings so I will just edge everyone for now. LOVE YOU! SMOOCHIES!

#astarion smut #astarion x tav #astarion fanfic #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion fluff #astarion x original female character #astarion x reader #bg3 #astarion x female tav

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killuintense · 5 months

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ITS ME AGAIN!! the same anon that sent the porn link of that guy giving backshots that reminded me of DI leon

well, good news! i found who that creator is and did some searching and found the best porn ever. like no joke, this video is EXACTLY and i mean exactly everything i've pictured DI leon in. the sex, the speed, the touchiness literally everything ive imagined with him before is in this video and its left me absolutely wet its unreal. yeah the guy doesn't look like leon at all but if you crop his head away it's literally leons death island body LIKE YOU KNOW IM RIGHT-

anyways, heres the link. we whores gotta share!

https://fr.spankbang.com/9gi4j-ih7vuu/playlist/bedgasam

STFU sometimes y'all surprise me with the work they do when it comes to leon, you really take it seriously omfg 🤨🤨🤨

mainly I want to say THANK YOU for take that work and share it, the leon's whore nation thanks you 🙏

on the other hand, i totally agree with you, especially in the last fragments before he cums when he starts to move faster FUCK totally leon bringing out that more unbridled and wild side, i liked it, i liked it. i'd say it is approved by me, at least hehe uwu

the previous video that you sent me is going to appear in part 4 of the update, so stay tuned!!

ily'all ‹𝟹

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chiharuhashibira · 4 months

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Hello!! May i request Yandere Giyu headcannons and what he'll do for the reader if it depends on his life like hes SERIOUSLY OBSESSED with the reader and would do anything for she/him you can pick the gender! *(Don't do it if you don't want to i am not forcing you Goodnight or Goodmorning or afternoon or evening idk!! :D)*

I WANT! And good evening from where I am at rn!

Thank you for this wonderful request UwU

I know I am a day late on Giyu's birthday but I still want to write this~

Happy birthday Giyu hihi I love youuuuuuu!!

Anyways, let's go now to his HC 🥵

𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒎 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: 𝐆𝐢𝐲𝐮 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐤𝐚 𝐗 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Content Warnings: Upper part is SFW but don't scroll down the NSFW Warning if you're a minor! MDNI!

🌸𝐆𝐢𝐲𝐮 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐤𝐚🌸

A little backstory: You are a very attractive demon slayer; however, you have this attitude. Some say that you are much too fit to be Sanemi Shinazugawa's tsugoku, and yes, you are. Even if you're not Tomioka Giyu's tsugoku, he makes sure that you always accompany him on his missions, as he is SERIOUSLY OBSESSED with you. He doesn't care if you should be partnering with Sanemi; he'll just do anything to be with you. Giyu will definitely give up everything just to have you by his side, which definitely shocked you as, at first, you had seen him as a very nonchalant person. But then he fell in love with you when you went on a mission with him. It was like magic. You didn't do anything, but it seems like he experienced love at first sight with you. Then everything changed. You became a couple, and he's possessive in a way that you also love.

❥ Giyu loves touching you. He uses training as an excuse to steal caresses from you and sometimes even kiss you. It surprised you the first time he did this because he is usually very reserved, but then you realised that Giyu can be quite affectionate, especially when it's just the two of you. Especially when it is just you and him.

❥ Tomioka doesn't like it when he hears other demon slayers teasing Sanemi. Giyu ensures that the Wind Hashira knows that you are already in a relationship. It even went to the point where he slapped Sanemi's hand away from you when the Wind Hashira was correcting the way you hold your nichirin sword.

❥ Giyu hates it when he sees you with Sanemi. However, he can't just take your privilege to be the Wind Hashira's tsugoku because he is jealous of him. So then, he takes your free time as an opportunity to be together. It's mostly rendezvous, as he always sneaks in to be with you. He knows Sanemi will try to kill him if he knows about this, but apparently, all Giyu could think of is that he doesn't care if Sanemi knows or not.

❥ On missions where you'll need to be disguising, Giyu makes sure that your partner won't take advantage of it. He usually gives them those dead-eyed looks that will immediately shatter their souls.

"No touching. If I knew you touched Y/N inappropriately, I'd end you."

That is not so Giyu-like, so you'll end up surprised but also amazed.

❥ Giyu loves to play with your hair. He would often whisper that you're his and his only while doing so. That would make you giggle, and of course you should assure him that you're only for him.

❥ At times when you arrive at the Butterfly Mansion, wounded from a mission, Giyu will be there much earlier than Shinobu Kocho, who already lives there. He will make sure to know your state first, even before the Wind Hashira, whom you're training for, knows.

�� He makes sure that he'll be the first person you'll see as you wake up. And when you do, Giyu will plant a longing kiss on your lips, as if he had waited for years to do so.

❥ Giyu will take care of you. Or, at least, insists on doing so because he hates other people touching you. He even starts a beef with Shinobu if she tries to be the one to change your clothes.

"She's mine. I'll do that."

❥ One time, Sanemi got pissed off with his attitude and decided to load you with tonnes of training just to put a break with Tomioka's constant bothering. But that didn't stop him. Giyu recommended Sanemi do a hard-core mission, and fortunately for him, Ubuyashiki-san agreed. So that gave time for the both of you. And yes, Sanemi ended up okay but wounded just because Giyu wanted to be with you so much.

❥ At the time when Sanemi was away, Giyu made sure he fucked you every single moment of the day. Instead of the sword training, you had that stamina and cargo training with him on almost every part of Sanemi's estate.

❥ Giyu loves marking you. He's obsessed with you, so he makes sure he'll get a taste of your skin from head to toe. But what he loves the most is eating you out and sucking on your titties, as those parts of you taste so delicious to him.

❥ Tomioka loves doing it rough. Surprising right? He likes overpowering you in bed. He loves it when you moan his name so loudly that you might wake the servants nearby. But actually, he doesn't care. He likes it risky.

❥ Giyu makes sure to leave love bites on your body. Sometimes it is so visible that it annoys Sanemi a lot. The Wind Hashira despises it, not only because he has a soft spot for you but also because Giyu is a nuisance when it comes to visiting his residence. But of course, that won't stop your man from sneaking in and giving you the best nights of your life.

❥ The Water Hashira isn't just good with swords; he's also good with his fingers. He won't stop fingering you until you tell him that you'll only be there for him.

❥ Horny Giyu is like a disaster, at least for the Wind Hashira. If you don't fuck inside the poor man's residence, Giyu will sneak you out and take you home. One time you even missed training just because he missed you so much that he wanted to fuck your brains out all day. Sanemi will even raise this issue with Ubuyashiki-san, but the man will not believe him as he knows Sanemi as the troublemaker and Giyu as the calm one who wouldn't do that kind of thing.

❥ When it comes to you, Giyu is ready to give up everything. He just loves you so much. And yes, you love this Yandere Giyu too, even if sometimes he acts rashly and selfishly. You just want him so much as well. It might sound crazy, but you'll rather have him this way, as you know that even if he is like this to you, you're also one of the reasons why he calms down. And he's the only reason why you do so as well.

𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈!

This might be a little bit OOC on Giyu's part but I want some fan-service, at least for us HAHAHA!

Anywayssss! Thank you so much for this request! I love yah all and advance Happy Valentine's Day!

Feel free to request, reblog, or comment!

~𝓒𝓱𝓲𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓾-𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓷🌸

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undeadcannibal · 1 year

Note

Your honor I'd like to propose an amendment to the 🍆 head cannon post:

Curvature and distinguishing colors, features? Are they darker or the same shade? Lighter? Hair color? Texture? Who's got a lean? 🥎⚾s?

Summary: More requested ‘N.SF.T’ headcanons for Task Force 141, Los Vaqueros, and König~ Part 2 of this post here!

Genre: Headcanons, request(s) Characters featured: Price, Gaz, Ghost, Soap, Alejandro, Rodolfo, and König.

Warnings: explicit content!

A/N: Never did I expect for that other post to become as popular as it did. I’m happy y’all enjoy my gross and overly-detailed headcanons. Also, please note, if any of you happen to not like or find any of my hcs to be gross or not what you expected, keep in mind they’re just my headcanons. Don’t take ‘em seriously, dudes. Weird and rude replies will be deleted. ( Gif credit: xxx )

Gaz―

Not much of a curve to it, honestly, he’s pretty straight curvature wise. Distinguishing colors? I’d say his foreskin is the same as his skin tone overall, tip-wise? I’m thinking it’s a bit darker than the color of his lips and flushes an even deeper color when he’s fully aroused, mhm. Hair color of his pubes is dark and also has a some curl and texture to it when he does let it grow out for some time. Balls, too? Hm... I’d say Kyle’s sporting a nice, snug set he prefers to keep smooth and clean more often than not.

Bonus! Kink headcanon is that he adores you paying extra special attention to his balls. Worship them and he’ll be cumming all over your face in no time~

Ghost―

Slight upward curve that stimulates you in the best of ways. IDC what anyone says, man has a mouthwatering cock with a nice flesh-pink tip and anyone can fight me on it. Probably slightly darker than his overall skin tone but not by much. Pubic hair stuff... I’m torn between him being a natural dirty blond or brunet. (I can’t remember where I saw the fanart from, but someone has a headcanon that he bleaches his brunet hair blond and oof, I’m in love, also give him long ass roots since he can’t keep up with his root touch-ups while out on missions) Straight-ish texture to his hair as well, grows pretty smoothly altogether. THIS MAN has a thick vein running down the middle of his shaft, my lord. And finally, for his balls, I’m thinking he’s got a hefty set that he’s quick to push you down to so you can pay them some attention, expect some light tickling from the hair there, too. uwu

Bonus! Kink headcanon is he struggles with being submissive and prefers being dominant the majority of the time due to his trauma. He doesn’t like the idea of submitting to someone -- he’s far too afraid of what kind of consequences it could possibly have for him. This doesn’t mean he’s a sadistic or strict Dom. If anything, he’s hyper aware of your reactions to every little thing he does, also refuses anything hard or physical against you, he detests the thought of causing his partner pain.

Price―

Leans ever so slightly to the right, isn’t too noticeable though. Since he’s circumcised in my previous post, could probably notice a scar that separates light flesh-tone color of his shaft from the faint pink of his tip. Also, despite him preferring to trim his facial hair specifically, I’d see him as going fully natural bush-wise. Man’s got a lovely cushion of brown hair that’s got just the faintest amount of gray speckled throughout. While he looks very textured, I personally think his hair would be soft af. Large set of balls that droops a bit lower now than when he was younger~

Bonus! Kink headcanon for John is - if you’re willing - he’d love to use you as an ashtray when he’s smoking. He’d light up, take a few puffs, than order you to open your mouth so he could tap the ashes off onto your tongue. Ordering you to keep your mouth open so he can see the black and grey specks of ash decorating your tongue before having you swallow.

Soap―

Has just the slightest upward curve to him, definitely jokes it’s great for helping stimulate his partner’s g-spot. Also knows all the best camera angles for top-tier dick pics. Shade darker than his natural skin tone and also has a smidge of hair going up the bottom of his shaft. Doesn’t mind in the slightest though. As mentioned before, he prefers going all natural and doesn’t shave or trim much. Lord, the amount of hair this man has. Has treasure trail, hair thighs, ass, groin, everything. Sorry, I love hairy men, what can I say? Also, when he’s super pent up, his tips turns a deep ruddy shade you love to see every time. Balls are on the larger side with one being slightly smaller than the other, also very sensitive and will have him turning into a whimpering mess if you pay special attention to them.

Bonus! Kink headcanon is he takes every spare chance he can get to take and send nudes and videos of him jacking off. Doing his best to make those sounds you love whilst trying not to get caught by anyone. Those moments are for your eyes and your eyes only~

Rodolfo―

Sobbing because his cock is the same gorgeous shade as the rest of his skin, although can see the head of his cock and his balls being a tad darker. Maybe has a tad lean towards the left. Has trimmed dark hair that feels amazing beneath your fingertips. Balls are a bit on the larger side. Run your tongue over them and his dick will be twitching above your face in no time, also will draw up tight to him when he’s cumming~ Please spread this man’s thighs apart, he’s got beauty marks for days and will fucking tremble if you kiss and run your tongue over them!

Bonus! Kink headcanon is he’s got such a praise kink when it comes to his partners. The hottest thing in the world for him is for him to be showering his partner with compliments, feeling them clench tightly around him as his words register in their pleasured-addled minds.

Alejandro―

Much like Rudy, he’s a beautiful shade of tan all throughout, and his cock head is just as flushed and ruddy when he’s aroused. Much like Rudy, has a lean but his is the exact opposite, veering to Also is hairy just like Soap, but nowhere near to the same degree. If anything, man’s sporting a thick bush, hairy thighs, and legs. Also another man sporting thick veins throughout the length of him that he’s more sensitive about being touched than he’d like to admit. Large set of balls that do sag a bit but doesn’t mind in the slightest definitely likes to teabag his partner as a result if they allow him to

Bonus! Kink headcanon for our man is that he’s a sucker for sloppy oral, giving or receiving, but especially receiving. Nothing excites him more than seeing how ruined and messy he can make your face as he fucks it.

König―

Doesn’t really have much of a curve or lean to him, but rest assured he’s got veins for days lining his shaft. And, if you run your tongue along them, he melts on the spot. Perfect male whimpering audio material <3 The color of him is noticeably darker than the rest of him. That, combined with his beautiful sandy colored curls make for a mouthwatering view. Also has large, yet tight balls that are far more sensitive than he’d like. Overstimulate the big guy right now!

Bonus! Kink headcanon is that due to his size all around, he’s grown to have a liking for size difference with his partner being smaller than his. It’s pretty easy given his height, but more so it drives him feral to see his cock bulging his partner’s belly out with every thrust he gives.

#john price x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #simon riley x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #rodolfo parra x reader #könig x reader #call of duty x reader #task force 141 x reader #los vaqueros x reader #cod headcanons #headcanons #'nsft'#opened mail #requests #my writing #lordsexmachine

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toxic3mmy · 1 month

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being like all bratty ( i think that’s the word) and all to Quackity and he ends up fucking the shit out of you?

ummm yes??? this sounds sooooo hot teehee, thx for the request!!

[it turned out a little more loving than rough sex.. oops??]

prompt: you and alex have a project due and he keeps slacking off until he’s had enough of your bratty attitude

warnings: nsfw! smut smutty smuttt!

it was finally 7:30 pm. alex said he would meet you at the college library to finish up your project after work and you had been waiting on him there for almost an hour now. the good thing was that you were alone and had time to focus on your part of the slideshow.

you had about two slides left when you heard a huge thud on the table you were sat at. you looked up and saw alex smiling sheepishly at you.

“sup nerd, you almost done with our project?” he said as he sat back in his chair and kicked his feet up to rest on the table

you rolled your eyes and said with an annoyed face,

“yeah right, come on let’s get this over with already” you grumbled

“actually, shit… i forgot my laptop” alex said while looking through his backpack. he looked up at you and asked

“mind if i go get it? i’m pretty sure i left it at my house and it’s not far from here” he didn’t even wait for me to respond, already collecting his things to go

“wait, maybe we should just do the project at yours… they close the library in thirty minutes anyways” you said, feeling even more annoyed than before because now you were going to be forced to be alone with alex

“cool, let’s go” he walked out of the school and to his car in the parking lot

you felt a bit uncomfortable and nervous as you got into his passenger seat. you weren’t sure why but his very existence got so deep under your skin that it really pissed you off. maybe it was his arrogant personality or maybe it was the way every girl at your college drooled over him, or maybe it was both. the truth is, you also felt an attraction for alex but you refused to be like every other brainless bimbo at school. you liked to think that you actually had taste when it came to guys.

your thoughts were interrupted by alex parking his car and getting out, having you follow him. he unlocked the door to his house and let you in. he got comfortable and led you into an office like room where you assumed he did his homework and probably his streaming. he had a huge desk with a pc setup as well as note taking materials next to the pc. there was also a small couch and that’s where you decided to put your backpack.

“here, i’ll go get a chair for you to sit next to me” alex broke the silence between you too. you nodded silently and took all your notes out to finally finish this project.

“sit” he said as he placed another office chair next to his fancy gamer chair

you chuckled to yourself

“what?” he asked, genuinely confused

“oh nothing… just realized you have a gamer chair.. it’s so uwu of you” you teased him and laughed even louder

“says the one that dresses like an e girl with all those fishnets and eyeliner” he said mockingly

“don’t even! i know you’re not judging my clothing choices when you legit always look like adam sandler plus that stupid beanie you never take off”

“can you shut up? we have a project to work on” alex said in a sarcastic manner

you didn’t say anything in response to him. instead, you went over what you had finished with your part of the project. you then kept talking about some ways for alex to tie his part into yours so that it would all flow seamlessly. you were pointing out certain topics in your textbook when you look up to see alex typing away on his phone.

“dude… are you serious? i was over here talking to the fucking wall i guess! were you seriously not listening to me?”

he simply put a finger up as if telling you to wait for him to finish texting. you waited impatiently and after a few minutes, he finally put down his phone.

“my bad, i have this thing i’ve been working on with team members for our twitch.. but uh yeah of course i heard everything you said.” he lied and it made anger begin to boil up inside of you.

“how much do you even have done?” you asked, trying to calm yourself down

“oh uh.. i have all my pictures set up in the powerpoint” he said as if it were something to be proud about

you grit your teeth together as you realized what he meant by that

“you haven’t even started on your section?? i cannot believe you…” you groaned really annoyed now

“yes i have started! it’s not my fault that i need to do work stuff in my free time” he said as he messed with a pen on his desk

“ohhh, you have a twitch event that you’ve been working on for weeks? aw thats so cool, yeah i seriously don’t give a fuck. you had all semester and you don’t even care! it’s our senior year and uni is something that we need to take seriously i mean this counts towards our final! i don’t want to have to fucking repeat this class just because you’re a careless arrogant selfish piece of shit!”

“woah woah, what the fuck is your issue?!” he began to lose his cool, sitting up and facing towards you as he raised his voice

“you’re my problem! like dude i get that you play your little video games on stream and that seems to be what you worry about most but i actually want to get a good career and i actually care about my grades! unlike you! you think that just because everyone likes you, you’ll get everything handed to you. well sorry to burst your bubble but clicking and clacking on your keyboard all day long isn’t going to prepare you for the real world!”

“who the fuck do you think you are? you have no right to say any of this to me, are you kidding?” alex was now standing up and towering over you

“look… i just had a bad day okay? i worked really early this morning and i honestly would much rather be in bed right now than arguing with you i mean, we’re not even getting any work done! god this is pointless..” you sighed, running your hands through your hair as you felt afraid to look alex in his eyes

“i worked today too, ya know. but you don’t see me being so prissy and uptight about a damn project that won’t even matter in a year.”

“yeah well im sure my work was way more productive and hard than you playing dumb computer games all day”

“listen you little brat, you have no right to tell me anything about my career choices. and for the record, my dumb little twitch job is making me more money each month than youd ever see after years of whatever boring fucking corporate job you get into” alex said, holding you tightly by your t shirt

“yeah fucking right. you’re just a lazy idiot! all you had to do was finish a few slides and we’d be through here and you can’t even do that. i’m leaving, thanks for nothing” you spit out angrily as you hastily began to pack your things to leave

alex was silently in deep thought. as you reached the door, he tugged your backpack back and off of your shoulder. he grabbed you rather harshly and your back was pushed up against his bedroom door.

“you’re not going anywhere. you think you can just walk out of here after insulting me and being a shitty little brat?!”

“what?..” you asked quietly

“you heard me y/n, you’re being a fucking brat.. and brats should be treated the way they deserve” he spoke hotly against your lips before leaning forward and kissing you

you weren’t prepared for him to kiss you so sweetly. you practically melted against his lips. you kissed back until he whimpered and brought you back to reality.

“ugh! get off of me, asshole!” you pushed his chest roughly but before you could make any other move, he caught your arm

“i know you want me y/n, i see the way you look at me. you and every other girl at school are just so thirsty for me huh? look at these tiny skirts you always wear.. you’re just asking for it” he smirked as his fingers danced up your thigh and touched your skirt

“ha! i don’t want you. unlike the girls at school, i have a brain and i sure as fuck would never touch you” you lied to his face

you gasped and felt your face go red as his hand was now touching the fabric of your panties

“then why are you soaking wet for me?” he chuckled as he pulled your panties aside and played with your wet folds

he walked you towards his bed, sitting you down as he hovered over you.

“i fucking hate you!” you angrily smashed your lips to his.

your tongue slid across his lips, asking for entrance. alex greedily let your tongue slide against his. your hands tangled in his hair and tugged harshly as he continued to touch you.

“i hate you too, you fucking brat. now be a good girl and taked this top off for me” his lips connected with yours as you shakily unbuttoned your school top and threw it aside.

you reached out and began to unzip his pants just enough to release his hardened cock. he moaned at the contact and continued to play with your slick heat as you started to move your hands up and down his dick.

he pulled away from the kiss and pulled your hair in a ponytail with one hand and held your palm upwards with his other.

“spit” he demanded and you did what he asked

he then moved your wet hand to his cock and let go of your hair. he went back to rubbing your throbbing clit. you moved your hand and he was practically thrusting into your touch.

“alex… please” you whispered and tried to lead his leaking dick to your pussy but alex stopped you

“aw come on y/n, you can do better than that. you just love to yap and insult me, don’t you, you little brat? why don’t you put that pretty little mouth of yours to good use and beg for me. beg me to fuck you”

at this point, you needed him so badly and you didn’t care how desperate you looked as you complied with his demands.

“please alex, i need you so badly. please just fuck me and i promise to be nicer to you. im so wet for you..” you moaned out as his fingers finally stopped teasing you and entered your quivering hole

“tell me you want me.. tell me y/n” he said in a lustful voice, his fingers curling deeper into you. his lips attached to one of your hard nipples, deliciously tracing circles with the tip of his tongue

“oh fuck.. i n-need you, i want you alex! i’ve wanted you since i first saw you! i hate you so much but i want you to fuck me, please!” you were rutting against his hand needing more

he laughed as he was amused and feeling very satisfied with your response. he stopped touching you completely and undressed himself. he then reached out and stripped you of your shirt and panties, leaving the two of you completely naked.

“you’re so fucking sexy” he said, looking at you hungrily

“get on your hands and knees, show me that pretty ass”

you did what he asked needing him inside of you now. he groaned at the sight of your round ass on view for him. as he pushed himself inside of you, you arched your back from pleasure. he began to move slowly as you adjusted to the stretch. the second you started moaning, he grabbed your hips and mercilessly pounded into you.

“fuck! you’re so tight y/n” his hand made harsh contact with a loud smack on your ass

you fucked back onto his cock, feeling so overcome with pleasure

“a-alex, ‘m so close” you whimpered

he stopped fucking into you and sat up in his bed. he gently tugged you towards him, motioning to sit on his lap

“come ride me, sweetheart” he said huskily and of course, you obliged

you sat on his dick, feeling every inch of him fill you up. you were in complete bliss as you began to ride him slowly. alex leaned forward and hugged you to his body as he kissed your lips. you fought his tongue with yours for dominance as the two of you rocked together in a sweet rhythm.

“you feel so good… so so good alexis” you whispered in broken sobs

“yeah, baby girl? aw just look at you. you’re so needy for me aren’t you?”

you rocked your hips, grinding his cock into you. he was so deep inside of you and you couldn’t help but want more. he hit just the right spot inside of your needy cunt and you moaned loudly. your back arched as you threw your head back in pure bliss. alex kissed up your neck as he had full access. he pulled you closer to him, tucking your hair behind your ear gently

“you’re so beautiful y/n, i could do this forever. would you like that? would you like to be my fuck toy? i could use you whenever i please, yeah? tell me how good i feel, hermosa” he said as he looked into your eyes.

“you feel incredible.. you’re making me feel things i’ve never felt before.. please use me whenever” you said breathlessly

“such a good girl” alex praised, kissing you ever so gently as you continued to move at the same pace together

“a-alex, i’m so close”

“cum with me y/n, cum with me” he whimpered, letting out the sweetest whines and speeding his hips to meet yours

he held your hips still as he fucked into you faster and faster, chasing both of your highs

with loud gasps and moan, you both climax together.

alex slows his pace to a stop and you both catch your breath.

“y/n…?”

“yeah?” you breathe out, finally getting off of alex and laying down next to him

“i finished my part of the project yesterday, i just wanted to mess with you” he grinned and you smacked him playfully

“alex! you ass!”

“hey.. it worked out well for us didn’t it?” he smiled innocently

“come on, let’s shower. im all sweaty” alex says, pulling you up and towards his shower

#alex quackity #alexis quackity #quackity #quackity x reader #quackity x y/n #quackity fanfic #quackity smut

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onlyseokmins · 2 months

Text

$$60 billion (part 2) • l.s.m.

How did a legendary bounty promised for turning in the wasteland's most infamous outlaw transform into a sick, little inside betting joke amongst your traveling companions? Though you have no idea why they're doing it… you sure as hell don't want that very same gunslinger comrade worth sixty billion double dollars to know anything about it either — but oops — looks like he already does! Damn you and your temper, some unhelpful lip-loosening alcohol, and one no-good, sorry excuse of a preacher you sometimes think of as a friend.

Pairing: outlaw!lee seokmin x fem!reader Genres: smut (minors dni!), trigun!au, action!au, apocalyptic/post-apocalyptic!au, space western!au, slight enemies to comrades to ??? !au, angst, fluff, they're dumbasses your honor 🙏 Warnings: swearing, blood, guns, injuries, medical tingz, destruction, mentions of knives, violence, unsettling space western things, slight body horror and hints at altered dna, weird religious cults, mentions of eating/food, alcohol, threats, bets among friends, tame-ish alien/monster/plant sex (????? listen it'll make sense - think of him like howl's bird form on steroids idk), mating, possessiveness!, marking, bruising, jealousy, smelling/scent kink???, wet messy sex uwu, wing kink (??? listen i was gonna explore it more but decided not to ok??), BITING (bc it's me), mechanical/robotic fingering???, gagging, bulge kink, oral sex (explicit male receiving and brief fem. receiving), seokmin's dick is like SLOPPY TOPPY LORGE w/ a mind of it's own, lowkey forgot how to write smut sorry </3 WC: 13.2k of 32.7k | Part 1 | Read on AO3 A/N: this is for the Now that's 90's - A Seventeen collab and loosely based off/inspired by the Trigun anime/manga! You do not need to know it as I manipulated a whole lot of elements for my own narrative but beware of various spoilers if you do go ahead and check out the series after reading!! I hope everyone enjoys the conclusion and please check out the other writers in this amazing collab ❤️PS, I know nothing abt chess lmaooooo but let me know your thoughts and feel free to ask any questions regarding this au's intricacies!! This part might get a little confusing because of a flashback!! (starts right after the italicized paragraph and ends with "...in this moment...")

The silence is palpable.

"Does it hurt more to get stabbed in the back or shot?"

Only the continual rustling sound answers your philosophical question. Not that you actually care because you weren't really expecting a reply.

So, you keep talking.

"I think it would be more painful to get stabbed… but it would take longer to heal from a gunshot wound."

There's a brief pause in the motions behind you. But the quiet resumes, though the practiced skill of a needle threading through your skin quickens. While the local anesthetics Tonim's doctor supplied is doing its job for the most part, you swear you can still feel the tug of flesh being sewn together.

Or maybe you're just thinking too hard.

"Look. I'm… I'm sorry."

If tension could personify itself right at this moment, it would do so with ease, given how heavy its presence currently sits in the room. A low voice finally speaks up, gravely and roughened after such a long period of silence and the hairs on your neck rise.

"Are you really?"

"… Yes."

A heavy sigh — one burdened with all the worries of the world — follows. You wince and then tremble, wishing you could turn around. It's easy to guess what he's thinking but god, do you wish you could see his face to confirm. The fear of the unknown paralyzes you.

"I seriously am."

"Doubtful. I know you only asked me that question to subtly say you'll be okay and heal just fine but it's not that simple."

The callousness in his tone and the sharp way he says your first name makes you want to shrink down, shrivel up, and quite frankly die on the spot. Gritting your teeth, you succumb to the apparent silent treatment until the snip of scissors signifies your surgeon has finished treating you.

You think twice about your options upon hearing the click-clack of medical supplies being put back into the first aid kit. Then you think, "fuck it!", and use your good arm to keep the fabric of a spare t-shirt pressed against your chest and shift so you can face the man who just rather aggressively threw a handful of unused alcohol prep pads back into their designated slot.

"I'm super duper, utterly, and truly apologetic, Seok."

The gunslinger heaves another grand exhale of irritation. He doesn't even so much as glance at you, frowning sourly down at the roll of gauze in his hands instead. The temptation to reach out and touch him — soothe him — is strong but you decide against that (for various reasons) and resort to huffily pouting instead. Amazingly it seems to work, because he notices right away and folds way too easily without much of your sway, finally facing you with a reluctant but serious expression.

"Then what did you learn?"

Your gaze lowers, eyelashes fluttering while you drown in your feelings of shame and wrack your brain. The urge to toy with the silver chain around your neck is strong though you resist the tick and hesitantly answer instead.

"Um, that I need to fortify my mental block better?"

"Try again."

"Uh…"

"How about the way you're not supposed to play the hero?"

The tin of the trauma kit rattles as Seokmin slams his left hand down on the bed, leaning menacingly toward you. Though narrowed, his eyes seem to glow. You can't help but whimper at the intense ire dancing in those irises paired with his sharp tone. Like the desert's suns, it simmers and radiates off of him with rays of heat that you can easily feel given how close he is.

"I'm, I'm sorry!"

"No, you're not," he states sharply though the rigidness in his body relaxes after your squeak of another apology. "You almost died!"

You'd defiantly cross your arms if you could. "Between the two of us, you were most at risk of dying."

"Was not! And we both know my chances of injury are much, much lower than yours."

"You can't lecture me and flex your stupid powers this time! It's different 'cause Jihooon was fuckin' with my mind."

The harsh bitterness is more so directed at yourself and the damned Crimsonnail than Seokmin. But as usual, you vent all your frustrated emotions out on him, especially whenever he brings up the fragility of your mortality. You both stare stubbornly into each other's eyes, thinking back to what happened and what could've happened.

Lina's protected. The Tonim residents were all immobilized. Seungcheol, Seungkwan, and Mingyu are in good spirits. You are safe.

A burst of air rushes into Seokmin's lungs, relief filling him as he idly scans your figure for injuries. Casually reloading his revolver just in case, he beams as you approach. The mirrored expression of victory on your face accompanied by a hand reaching out causes his whole body to shudder in pleasure. There's nothing he'd like more than to intertwine his fingers with yours.

Instead, he settles for returning your enthusiastic fist bump. Nudging his shoulder against yours, Seokmin chirps out, "Good job, partner!"

"Partner?"

"Yeah, partners."

You shake your head like you can't believe him, amusement tilting up the corners of your lips. He wants to tell you everything, all of it. But his ears catch the faint click of a contraption behind him and he looks over his shoulder just in time to see Jihoon's crossbow assemble.

Joshua looks mightily displeased but makes no effort to put a stop to the Crimsonnail's actions. Seokmin can only thank his lucky stars that Soonyoung remains in a catatonic state. Dealing with a ginormous worm so soon after being in its stomach a couple days ago was not appealing in the slightest.

The fingers of his prosthesis splay out, cybernetic arm lowered and extended outwards in front of you as you turn around as well. He knows you hate unwarranted protection but you'll have to forgive his instincts this time. Nevertheless, he trusts you. And as Jihoon opens fire, Seokmin leaps into action, expecting you to do the same — only to do a double-take when you don't move despite a flurry of nails breaching the air.

Your eyes remain unfocused. Glazed over and cloudy, posture tense but still. He sneaks observatory looks your way from afar while firing Geranium. Round after round, breaking nail after nail to prevent any harm befalling you. A maniacal laughter rings out and Seokmin freezes, putting two and two together.

Then he snarls.

Jihoon must've sicced his killing intent — a nasty ability to project and create illusions of destruction in someone and break their will — on you. Cursing, he starts making his way closer to you, inwardly reaching out to you and begging that you'll break free of the blonde-haired man's clutch on your psyche.

You're obviously more than capable. He knows this. But your movements are sluggish, slowly releasing Sirocco from your grasp. The empty pistol lands on the sand with a muffled thud and Seokmin's pretty sure his heart mimics it. A look of terror and horror spreads across your facial features, surely subject to something awful within the confines of your own mind.

And while you're experiencing visions of things you fear coming true, he's stuck in the vivid reality where they do.

You spin around with a wild look in your eyes — full of rage and anguish. He stumbles back as you teeter one foot at a time toward him and in the distraction, a nail pierces right below your shoulder blade.

Someone wails behind him.

You scream.

Seokmin rushes forward. But he's tackled suddenly to the ground and ends up flat on his back. Completely winded and left with his vision smarting, blinking in confusion at the blurry double halos that definitely shouldn't be around the duo of suns in the sky.

Then your face comes into focus. And god, forget the suns — in all your glory and in all your fierceness, you shine brighter than them all combined — hallucinations be damned.

It takes a bit of wrangling around, given how you try to wrestle and pin the man down. The clunky gun you're waving around goes off several times, harmlessly lodging bullet holes into the sand cushioning around Seokmin's head.

"Stop it, you're gonna hurt yourself!"

Moving and lashing out like a wild animal before it's fully sedated, his words don't come through the hellish haze Jihoon's trapped you in. You pull the trigger with no regard for the injury to your shooting arm.

Bang!

He dutifully counts each round fired, multitasking between that and the effort it takes to contain your struggling movements. Once again, thanks to the overpowered strength of his prosthetic, the man's finally able to sit up with you secured in his arms to cease any further movement.

"Lovely, lovely mayfly," he murmurs. The stable cybernetic hand gently feels around the impaled shoulder while a trembling thumb rubs your abnormally chilled cheek. "C'mon and snap out of it, pretty."

Not a spot of recognition in your blank glare. His eyebrows furrow as cold metal presses in between them. Seungcheol is cursing, Mingyu and Seungkwan are shouting loudly. Jihoon gloats.

But none of that matters. Seokmin drowns all of it out by diving in the pooling depths of your empty irises. Searching, calling, begging. Biting his lip, he delivers a quick slap and pleads, "Come back to me, love."

And like a mist that rises after dawn, you return to him. Your stunned grip on the gun falters, the final bullet rattling in its chambers. The pained expression on your face slices open his own heart but its shredded form takes flight in utter relief.

You're back. You're going to be okay — he'll make sure of it. And even if you don't know it, you're his and he's yours.

"Y-you're dead," you choke out and all he can do is smile despite feeling like he's on the verge of crying. Elation, anger, guilt, hope, longing, worry, joy — all of it turns and tosses within him like a rustling flurry of winged creatures struggling to break free.

So, he smiles at you and grasps the barrel of the old pistol aimed at his forehead. "I know, mayfly."

Jihoon howls in fury. Joshua finally steps forward, striking a military pose with his hands behind his back. Composed as ever, his voice remains its deceptively sweet self compared to the harsh jerking movements he's subjected upon the gray-eyed man via telepathy.

"You've crossed the line, lost number thirteen."

"Don't call me that!"

It's no surprise that the pecking order in Dokyeom's henchmen sowed seeds of dissent. Though Joshua was simply a right-hand man, he remained the only unnumbered member, proving the lack of disposability DK saw in him versus the others.

"Know your place."

"Which has always been at the top! But because of you — !"

" — The top of those already at the bottom, perhaps. Respect your superiors and your orders, Crimsonnail. You were not to lay a hand upon Master Dokyeom's brother. Ever."

"I didn't!"

"Or a member of his little group." His indifferent gaze swept over Seokmin protectively cradling your body. "This voids our involvement and nullifies any further implementations of the game."

Joshua would thank his lucky stars that the humanoid typhoon is letting them leave scotch-free if he was a decent man. Unfortunately, he's not — already considering what punishment to enact upon Jihoon per his master's orders. The Crimsonnail feels a shiver down his spine, further enhanced by Joshua's frosty, disdainful look of disapproval as he telepathically drags Jihoon to the car.

Still, it's a good thing Seokmin's a pacifist by nature, that he's more preoccupied by your well being than anything else. Your brow begins to bead with sweat, the pain of your wound finally sinking in past the adrenaline rush wearing off. Black circles dance in your blurring vision, the gun falling from your grasp as you droop forward and rely on the unerring sureness of his support and the safety within in it.

Seokmin knows he needs to get you medical help right away, and it's the only thing he can focus on. There's no time for exchanging a blow with a blow nor the faintest idea of revenge.

Not yet. Not now. Maybe never if it means putting you in harm's way.

Was he really going to give up following the bloody trail to hold his brother accountable for the unspeakable crimes he's committed? Throw away the blank ticket Rem spoke about? All for one person?

The questions all swirl around in his head like a nebulous mass. And like a newborn star — one that's been long in the making — the answer is crystal clear and shining bright as you sit in front of him now looking devastatingly beautiful to him despite all that's happened. Most importantly, you're safe.

But all he can say in this moment aloud is, "I'm sorry."

For a multitude of reasons. So many of them. You seem to spot something in his eyes, frowning ever so slightly.

"You don't have to apologize for anything. I'm fine."

"I almost lost you."

"But you didn't."

"…I know. And I'm so fuckin' glad."

Seokmin runs his fingers in a distressed manner through dusty, matted strands of reddish-brown strands. Immediately drawing attention to the dirt, grime, and dried blood coating and dulling the cybernetic's buzzing glow.

"That's gonna be a pain in the ass to clean."

He appreciates the subject change, shooting you a lopsided grin. "Yeah, tell me 'bout it."

"Let me help."

You get up before he can protest. A tactical way to coerce him into worrying about helping you rather than arguing. The coy part of yourself is applauding the method, especially when the calloused flesh of his palm splays against the bare skin of your lower back in the name of support as you both walk to the bathroom.

That same part whispers naughty temptations to drop the t-shirt covering your chest, press up against him, and see his reaction. But your reasonable, reserved side is too held up on various other matters to give in.

Sadly, you find out you can't offer as much assistance as you would've liked. But Seokmin seems heartened by just seeing you up and about and close to him. Plus, you make use of your idleness while he washes in the sink by reaching for the few stocked amenities you can reach with your good shoulder above it when he asks for them. And you receive a heartfelt smile in return.

"I probably should've just showered."

You shrug. "You still could."

"Nah, it's fine, I can do it later. What about you, though? You're going to need help with those stitches."

"What a roundabout way to say you want to bathe together, Seok. You could've just asked."

Maybe you expected him to splutter nervously or protest fiercely at the tease. You certainly don't expect him to just shake his head — silver earring flashing in the vanity's dull lighting — and chuckle.

"I'm being serious, goof. Besides, it's not the first time I've seen you in the tub."

"What?" you squawk and his grin doesn't falter. In fact, it turns into a smirk.

"I'll go get Sherry. Lina's gonna want to see you too, she wouldn't stop crying about her pretty savior getting hurt."

You frown. Was he still going to dodge The Talk™? And did he think you were really just going to him out of your clutches that quickly?

"We still need to chat. You promised."

His eyes flash. "… And you don't like promises."

Yes, that was exactly why. He knew your history. Still, you refused to back down.

"No, I don't. But I like you… and, and most of all, I trust you. I just want the truth, Seok. Even if you think it'll hurt me, at least be honest. Trust me back. I promise it'll make it less painful if you tell me why you thought I wasn't serious. So, please…"

Don't let me down.

It's unspoken, but he can clearly hear it in your tone. A battle-worn sigh escapes so you try to lead him and finish with a question where he can give a more straightforward answer.

"… How long have you known? About the bet, I mean."

Despite wavering between semi-alertness and bordering the edge of losing consciousness, you're aware of Sheryl's presence as she bustles around with Seungkwan and Mingyu to clear out an empty room above the saloon temporarily used for patients. Seungcheol waits outside the door with you two, a cigarette loosely dangling from his lips.

When Sheryl leaves, she sneaks a peek at the way your face buries into Seokmin's neck, how the man carefully assesses the rest of your body for injuries. His touch is gentle, the cybernetic arm coated in blood as it holds the nail in you steady. He'd been adamant about being the one — the best one — to treat you. Smiling, she hands Seungcheol a couple of double dollars and the pastor raises an inquiring eyebrow.

"For that little game of yours," the woman whispers knowingly and gestures to the two who just exited the room and Seokmin hurriedly heads inside. "They told me all about it."

You lift your head to glare at Seungcheol and then your other comrades as you pass, wondering if this was some sick form of revenge for pulling one on him and if Sheryl was so keen to set you up with someone in the same way pompously done for her. But your shoulder feels like it's on fire so rather than reprimand your stupid, back-stabbing friends and slump back wearily against Seokmin.

He's a simple man who certainly can't hide a silly smile at the unconventional snuggling. Lifting his chin, he then tilts his head questioningly to the money in Seungcheol's hands. "You're still doing that bet?"

"Haf'ta win the lasses 'n hopeless romantics over 'n have 'em rootin' fer ya."

"Y-you know about the bet?"

Seokmin hushes you with a low murmur, words muffled by the press of his lips to the crown of your head. You can't make out what he says, but the timbre is soothing enough that your eyes close.

"Gotta make that sixty billion somehow if we're not turnin' ya ass in."

"Fair enough!" The wanted man laughs and closes the door with his foot.

His cheerful demeanor then dropped to focus on the proper procedures to treat your wound and that's when the silence settles in, soon followed by the weighing air of unresolved tension between you. And now, you're continuing the determined path to fully speed-run ahead and break it, though he shrugs nonchalantly at the question.

"Known for a while, to be honest."

"Seriously? I thought it was a secret!"

"C'mon, you know how bad Cheol is at keeping them."

"Yeah, right," you roll your eyes. "That man takes things to the grave — literally!"

"You're too hard on him." Seokmin leans toward you, bracing himself with an arm supported by the sink and brown eyes sparkling with humor. "Think about how much you've learned about him."

"Against my will, too much…"

"Which means I'm right."

"… I guess you do make a fair point."

"Of course. He's a completely open book once you peel back that damn protective hardcover of his."

Still, you sniff disdainfully and frown. "I swear, you're the only one who sees him like that."

"Like what?"

"Like…. unafraid, unconcerned, unbothered by all that he is, all that he's done, et cetera."

"Why not? He's done the same for me. Besides, I've said it before but he has those eyes, you know. Kind."

Ah, and that's what gets you to resign with a small grin. It's just like Seokmin to see only the good in people.

"And you're not all that different," he continues with a broad, knowing smile. Immediately you bristle and he clarifies, "from me." Some part of you momentarily wonders if you spoke your thoughts aloud or if he just simply knows them that well. "As loath as you are to admit it, you care for him. Most importantly, you trust him."

Though your face sours at the thought, you don't retort right away. Sure, Seungcheol is a trusted ally. And maybe the motivation to free Jeonghan from the control of the Eye of Joshua wasn't solely because it was simply the right thing to do. But also because it might brighten the dull spark and leave one less bloodstain on the hand of a man who bore the burdensome weight of all sins like a cross on his shoulders.

Then you wave away those thoughts for now. "So, is that why you thought I wasn't serious on how I feel about you. 'Cause of the bet?"

"No, because I never knew the full extent of it. But… if you're saying it had to do with your feelings, then I would have to say yes — though I find it hard to believe any bet's worth my bounty."

"Oh." Your cheeks heat at unwittingly giving it away.

Seokmin smirks when you avoid his gaze, and he moves in even closer. "No one has sixty billion double dollars just lying around, mayfly."

"You're just saying that so no one turns you over to July."

"Well, you won't do it, will you?"

"You don't know that," you fire back, intending to heighten your defenses that only weakly falter because you're still not looking at him.

"But I do."

"Yeah? Prove it!"

Ooh, a challenge.

And one more step closer.

"Because you care too much about the man you like to put him behind bars."

Your eyes dart back to meet his, ready to squint reproachfully only to widen at how the gunslinger's face is only a breadth away from yours. Breath hitching, you desperately want to whine out in irritation but it comes out in a low whimper. Seokmin's canines flash in the bathroom's dim lighting.

"That's not, that's not fair." The wall pressing into your bare back keeps you from retreating and the hand keeping the t-shirt covering your chest feels how your heartbeat speeds up. Your skin is on fire, only the cool temperature of your locket and its chain preventing you from utterly exploding after the plaintive admission of, "You already know everything. But…"

"But…?"

The unconscious action of biting into your lower lip only gets realized by the way it keenly draws Seokmin's eyes. Electric blue flashes against brown irises yet they darken to almost black with the sudden thrill of desire that rises to the surface. He's so close, you can feel his breath caress your face, and you swear you hear it deepen into a low grunt before he raises a brow for you to continue.

"But… b-but I don't know…a single… thing."

Seokmin has forever believed Rem's take regarding the ticket to the future always being blank. For him, it's always been an unknown path forward that he's let lead him wherever and to whatever destination.

He holds himself back, just enough to utter the (practically what should be unneeded) words of reassurance, "It could only ever be you — and it's always been only you — that I could be in love with so much, mayfly," and then he's eliminating the meager distance between the two of you. For the first time, he stamps that blank ticket with an assuredness of the future and outcome he's never had before — with a kiss.

Cradling the back of your head with his cybernetic prosthesis, the other cups your cheek and then trails down to your collarbones — but no further than appropriate. His mouth, though, disregards the very notion. A teasing tongue repeatedly runs across your bottom lip to smooth out the indents caused earlier by your teeth then naughtily pokes and prods its way between, eliciting a sweet gasp from you he absolutely devours.

Your whole body shudders with happiness, eagerly surrendering to the man's wild, possessive fervor as he passionately steals the breath out of your lungs and stakes his claim on you by leaving behind shiny kiss-bitten lips. Seokmin only draws away, panting, to admire his handiwork, light-headed and dizzy with delight.

"I love you," he reconfirms with his forehead resting against yours and nose tickling your own, "… partner."

Breathlessly, you joke back after placing a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. "Love you too, partner."

And that was that.

With your shoulder injury on the mend and the other members of your little ragtag group nursing their own bumps and bruises, you all decided to spend one more night in Tonim — much to Lina's delight. While she merrily bounced from one 'hero' to the next, you playfully reminded Wonwoo that he still owed you some free drinks. You were eager to take advantage of the fact and he was more than willing to accommodate.

The tavern that originally held a subdued, slightly hostile air to it when you first arrived was now filled with an unfettered joyous harmony. You're so easily swept up in the ambiance of such high spirits and jubilant townsfolk as mug ales filled to the brim get passed around and clinked together, you fail to notice Seokmin's sudden withdrawn nature.

Not until the next morning do you first realize something's off.

"You're sure about this?"

"Oh, no. Not you too, Seok."

You'd already flipped off and shoved away a complaining, terribly hungover Seungcheol and finally got rid of the watchful, fretting gazes of Seungkwan and Mingyu. The duo had been hovering around you with concern ever since you downed a full glass of alcohol last night. While you generally just let them be and were quite thankful not to wake up with a pounding headache, you certainly weren't above crushing all of Mingyu's pudding cups if he meekly asked one more time if you were okay or needed help.

Seokmin leans against the open door frame as you pack. The pulsating glow of lost technology flickers in your peripheral and keeps you aware of his quiet presence. Part of you had always wondered if the ever-running currents of lighting synced with the flow of blood through the rest of his body.

The gunslinger doesn't speak, and you wonder why. And though you'd like to flatter yourself and entertain the notion that he's watching you — while other times that may be true — you don't feel the weight of his eyes trained on your motions. It wasn't like there was much to stuff in your bag, the satchel's leather cracked, faded, and well-worn after all these years of use through the desert and everything you truly value remains strapped some way to your body. So once you're finished, you inquisitively peek over in his direction.

Brown eyes are trained on the clunky gun on the mattress — the same one you'd pressed against his head. It's also the exact same pistol Chan had spent his adolescence restoring and repairing. Left unnamed unlike the honorary grave Seokmin had helped you prep before leaving the ruins of Ivywood behind. Meanwhile, his gaze darts to linger in contemplation on the chain around your neck before his eyebrows furrow, emphasizing the drawn out features and dark circles beneath his eyes.

"You look tired, you doing okay?"

"Yeah, just haven't been… sleeping well."

Frowning, you step toward him. Although he doesn't back away, his entire posture stiffens. "Will you be able to make the journey?"

He snorts, gesturing to your shoulder you're trying not to move too much. "Isn't that what I'm supposed to be asking you?"

"I'll feel better at the border."

Seokmin nods understandingly. "The weather will align well."

Within the sandstorms that relentlessly swirl near the Melca Border Sea of Sand, hides the only SEEDS floating ship that survived the Great Fall and you have to get the timing just right to reach it. It's home to a large community of humans, and most importantly, it's what you would consider a true home to you and Seokmin. Already, your energy restores — excited at the prospect of getting to relax in a place you trust and people you truly enjoy being around.

"Jun can take a look at my shoulder."

"That's true, it would be good for him to do."

"And I'm sure Hao's going to want to check your arm, maybe fashion some fabric that's not only bulletproof but also nail-proof."

"He's gonna give us both a scolding."

"Wouldn't be the first time."

You share a look of fond chagrin. Even though Seokmin's well over a century older than Juhui and Minghao, they were direct Earth descendants aboard a ship full of lost technology and geniuses in their own right. Those facts alone gave them all the confidence and utter audacity to more often than not, act like fretting toma mothers over the two of you.

Nonetheless, you appreciated them with all that's remaining of your heart.

The trip to the Melca Border wasn't a straight shot from Tonim but it wasn't as far as you thought. A bittersweet farewell to Wonwoo, Lina, Sherry, and the rest of the townsfolk was to be expected. Though their sorrow weighed you down, the knowledge that you were parting from them with good memories and the expectations to visit again kept your steps light-footed.

Seokmin remains zoned out the entire time. You bulk it up to his normal reaction whenever something emotional was on the horizon. Returning to Melca held a grand spread of wonderful, warm memories with a scattering of dreadfully sad ones too. Though the floating ship's defenses have been bolstered to the max over the years, the terrible events weren't easy to forget.

But they were incidents in the past and it's thanks to the intellect of the two who greet you at the entrance of the ship that their defenses continue to improve. Luida proudly stands behind them, accompanied by Brad and his wife.

"Greetings, weary travelers."

"We're no strangers, Luida," Seokmin protests against her formality.

The elderly leader's playful grin smooths out the wrinkles lining her wise face. "Welcome home, children."

It's a simple phrase but one that fills you with inexplicable warmth. Hansol might be the son born of her own body, but no one is immune from her maternal instinct. She beckons for everyone to come inside where the main quarters lie and the growing crew population will certainly be enthusiastic upon hearing about your return.

Seungcheol, Mingyu, and Seungkwan trail after without fuss, also elated to be aboard the familiar floating ship. You smile with genuine delight and step forward to follow while Minghao takes one look over his wire-rimmed glasses to survey Seokmin's dusty figure and elegantly tilts his head knowingly in the hallway leading to the technology laboratory. Glittery, colorful beads woven through the long strands of his two-toned hair clink in time with the movement.

It's hard to hide the snicker that escapes as you watch Seokmin trudge after Minghao like a scolded puppy. Your glee at someone else's suffering doesn't last long when a gentle hand clasps your shoulder. Wincing at the pain, you meet Junhui's puzzled look before his eyes narrow.

"You're hurt," he says, disappointed but not surprised, and leads you away to the med bay. It's exactly what you expected, in fact, the main reason behind why you're here — and yet, you sulk and whine petulantly just because you can.

"Not my fault that the only way to get here is by timing everything right to jump into a sandstorm and then onto a flying platform."

After instructing you to lie down on the medical bed and cutting the fabric of your shirt without fanfare, Junhui clicks his tongue. "You only come to visit when you're hurt."

"Not true!"

He concentrates on disinfecting and resewing the torn stitches in the tender flesh around the parts of your wound that are still healing. His tone borders on slight resentment but the concern weighing in it smoothes it all over.

"And yet most of our time spent together is only when you visit so I can patch you up."

"It's not like that."

"I know… but I would've met you elsewhere."

"Boring."

"Can't you courteously pretend to care about yourself out of consideration for those who worry?"

"You'll go gray at such a very young age if you stress all the time, Jun."

He shakes away silver bangs that threaten to impede his vision, unamused. "And you'll end up buried under the sand next time."

"Sounds cozy."

"I swear —"

You wave his growing ire away. "Seok takes care of me just fine."

"Yes," Junhui's cat-like smile causes your metaphorical hackles to raise. "He does care deeply about you."

"I'll punt you into the fifth moon and give it a second crater with your body."

"Now, now… violence is never the answer."

"Violence is the only reason you have a job!"

If you weren't as close as you were, perhaps he'd be offended by your claim. Instead, he kicks you out (after ensuring you're indeed in relatively good health), leaving you to laugh victoriously. Then, you set off to the technology lab in good spirits, hoping to catch Seokmin and commiserate with him.

Instead, you find a lone Minghao sitting refinedly amongst all the tech with grace and poise. He was in his element. Fiddling with and poking at a well-worn, familiar cybernetic tech with a thin silver instrument, he simply raises an eyebrow to acknowledge your presence.

"Did you fit Seok with a new arm?"

"But of course," the man sighs wearily, "despite my best efforts, my darlings always return home to their father with quite a beating."

"… Then you'll hate what I'm about to tell you."

"No, I cannot fashion you a pierce-proof trench coat. However, I will acquire some stronger material… but there better not be a next time."

You purse your lips and pout. It often seemed like Minghao worried more about his inventions than the people using them, though you knew that to ultimately not be true.

"So, he already told you what happened."

"Oh, yes… he told me everything." Heterochromatic eyes suddenly meet yours, sharp with a spark of amusement. "See, I almost didn't want to give him the latest modification but…"

"But…" You repeat warily.

Junhui was always mischievous, though most of it only ended with harmless pranks. On the other hand, Minghao's sarcasm-filled humor rarely made an appearance, and when it did, it usually delighted in the sickest of satisfactions.

Yet, he simply shrugs, evasive as always. "I think you'll like its improvements."

There's something foreboding about that statement, but he ushers you away under the pretense that he needs to concentrate. And shortly, you find yourself stopped by curious passersby or familiar faces in the hallways to the main quarters. Since your last visit, a multitude of passengers have a lot to share and update you on. By the time you reach your own pod, you're socially exhausted.

Sleep came easy but finding Seokmin did not. The SEEDS ship was already big in the first place and additional construction enlarged it further. An itchy, achy feeling pooled inside your gut on the second evening you'd been unable to catch sight of him. Finally, you acknowledged the bitter truth — he was avoiding you.

You had to come to terms with how delusional it was to think that once everything was out in the open, the scattered puzzle pieces would magically fall together in their rightful places. It should be easy, right? It's what happened in those cheap novels Junhui dug out of an abandoned pod in Melca back in the day. He'd given them to you as a birthday joke — Minghao sighing and handing over your real present (the first bullet-proof trench coat) — but you'd actually read through all the cheesy, steamy piles of romantic drivel.

Seungkwan, ever the cynic, and Seungcheol — who's naturally a heathen — quickly destroyed the slim spark of hope of ever hoping to feel those flutters in your gut. Meanwhile, Mingyu was someone precious and wholesome with a romantic outlook on life underneath the great muscular physique he'd gained from carrying that heavy concussion gun around.

You often wondered why they never tormented him like they did to you. But despite his indomitable stature, the emotionally soft man's tears were the most powerful weapon in his arsenal. Even if he didn't quite realize it, his comrades certainly were aware.

And Seokmin… well, if you knew how Seokmin felt about romance, you wouldn't be stuck in the position of wondering why the fuck he was avoiding you.

Again.

"Where is he?"

"Good morning," Mingyu greets the following morning, cheerful as ever. "If you're still hunting Seokmin for sport, he said he's feelin' a little sick!"

"Sure."

"No, he really is." Seungkwan refutes your aggressive eye roll with a gentle shake of his head. "Loverboy hasn't come out of his room for days and when I almost knocked the door in earlier, he finally responded only to sound like a dying toma."

Your face contorts into a morbid combination of concern and irritation, shifting between the two expressions. "Probably 'cause he stayed out all last night!"

And with a dramatic huff, you glower at the pastor seated in the cramped corner of the floating ship's kitchen area. Seungcheol deemed it was cooler, darker, and the farthest spot in the enclosed space from any of your misplaced wrath. He smiles, the white stick between whiter teeth jollily flicking up and down at you, taunting.

He reveled in the knowledge of being safe since he'd been the only one able to provide any information on the humanoid typhoon's whereabouts. The pastor — who still enjoyed a late-night smoke to cure some of his insomnia — considered it his saving grace to catch sight of the fellow gunslinger slinking through the shadows in the halls. Apparently, Seokmin had been sneaking outside the past few nights and remained resolutely ever-elusive during the day.

"Should go see 'im. Yer all antsy and 'm bettin' he's missin' his… mayfly."

"Oh, go fuck yourself," you snarl and storm out, missing the man's bark of laughter before he continues contemplating the best way to siphon money during a confessional.

The unfaltering stomp of your combat boots is the background beat on your walk to Seokmin's pod. His halls aren't far from the kitchen area and yet each footfall feels like a step into the unknown, the lights above seeming to grow dimmer the closer you get.

Why was he acting like this?

Did he regret everything that happened between you?

Was something wrong?

Would he shut himself away from you?

Worry and anger swirl together, mirroring the vortex of sand you had to pass through to get here. Seokmin's never shut you completely out before but you're familiar with his reclusive acts when things get too much. Too close. Too emotional. And you're afraid to be the catalyst to another spiral.

So, you knock. Harsh, loud, and ultimately unforgiving if ignored.

"Seokmin, open up! I know you're alive!"

A mutter of "Barely," carries through the door before he clearly answers with a curt, "I'm not feeling well but I'll be fine."

"Open the door."

Silence.

"Please."

The silence continues — and your temper flares. "Don't make me go get my bag and grab my lock-picking set!"

You can hear sounds of cursing and some rustling around before the door slowly and reluctantly opens, Seokmin hiding in the shadow it casts.

"As you can see, I'm quite fi —"

Both a coughing jag and the firm push of your shoe interrupts his confident statement. "Sure hope you weren't about to say you're fine!"

A faint smoky scent permeates the pod. You cough and pause to let your vision adjust to the darkness. The first hint toward Seokmin's unusual behavior because he thrived in the sunlight, no matter how weak the sunrays that reached the floating ship were. Then second, you blink in wonderment at the black heaps littering the bed and floor.

Feathers. Everywhere.

Reminiscent of the time you'd broken Seungcheol's ridiculously expensive pillow against Mingyu's bulky bicep during a good-natured fight with Seungkwan's assistance. But instead of an explosion of brown and aqua toma plumage causing you all to sneeze, these were inky dark like the night sky and resembled piles of soot against the pod's stark white backdrop.

You whirl around to find Seokmin retreating to the corner of the room, hands slamming on top of the dresser for support. His back is to you with two thin wings jutting out from it. Feathers rustle as he pants, shoulders coinciding up and down with the motion of the wings.

"Seok, how did… how did this happen?"

It's not fear that causes your voice to tremble but worry. The appearance of his natural Plant form is no longer shocking. In fact, the more you see it, the more you find it eerily beautiful. Probably similar to those who believe them to be messengers of a higher power. But he's only ever transformed in dire situations — either due to stress or the rare exhaustion of his superhuman abilities against stronger foes.

He doesn't reply so you take a cautious step forward. An animalistic growl erupts from his throat, followed by a pained groan. You gasp as he shakes, protrusions rupturing from the lower parts of his shoulder blades. Two more wings burst out and unfurl below the trembling ones already quivering on his back.

So that's how they hide and reappear.

"Is it 'cause you're sick? Choi said you've been staying out all night. You could've caught a cold or something's in the air. Never know what's floating around here." You babble as you frantically search for signs in the mirror above the dresser for any hints to what's caused this.

Seokmin's bent over and you note what should be brunette roots of hair are now pitch-black too. Closer and closer you creep until you can make out each bead of perspiration trickling down his neck and how they coat every bare part of his body in a sheen of sweat.

Then his head snaps up. An eye — unshielded by the black fringe of his red-brown tipped bangs — narrows to glare into your widened ones. A tempest of electric blue rages within it. Like the hottest type of fire, it burns more than you could ever expect in a vortex of one prominent emotion.

Desire.

An involuntary shudder overtakes your whole body, and you unconsciously bite your lip. Seokmin slumps back down, granting respite from that ardent azure glow.

"Sick," he snarls and laughs, strained. "Sick in the head, that's for sure."

"How… how can I help? What can I do for you?"

"Get out."

"Seok —"

"I'm serious, mayfly. For your own good. Leave."

"My own good?"

"I'll, hah, I'll explain… explain it later."

Your arms cross. "Oh, really? Or will you avoid me again? Like you have been for the past several days?"

"I haven't —"

"Don't you dare feign indifference! I'm not stupid — we talk about our feelings and then you retreat. Just be honest with me… please."

You promised.

He sucks in a very deep inhale through clenched teeth, seeming to regret it instantly because his grip on the edge of the dresser is hard enough to crack the strong material. Glowering at your reflection again — not daring to acknowledge your very real and extremely close presence in the room — Seokmin bares his sharpened and widened incisors in a snarl.

"We will talk, mayfly, please believe me. Now's… hah… just not great timing with… with what's happening."

Irritation easily gives way back to worry. "At least tell me what I can do for you. Should I get Jun?"

"He can't do anything. Gotta just… work it out of my system."

"Work what?" You frown, knowing how rare it is for the medical specialist to be stumped.

"It's not for certain…" Four different wings flutter in agitation at various speeds. "Not a lot's known about Plant physiology," his mouth turns downward, "even I don't have a thorough understanding."

"Is it a disease?"

"Wish it was that simple."

"You're talking in riddles and running verbal circles, Seok."

"… Dokyeom and I are independent Plants. Likely the only ones, well, you know — still functioning. Alive. When Rem found us, research was obviously done."

You know the story very well and nod. "And had been conducted before."

"'Course thanks to Rem, it wasn't as invasive but there were, hah, occasional talks. Theories. And then, of course, before us twins, there was…"

"… Tesla."

A Plant with a lifespan of only two-hundred and thirty days.

Seokmin swallows. "Tesla. Yes. I recall bits and pieces. Hypothesized with Luida and company… Outside of Dokyeom following the unethical methods humans sometimes conduct for experimentation," he snorts at the irony, "it's thought that Plants… can copulate… with a mate… of their, hah, choosing."

"Really?" Your eyebrows raise, intrigued. "That's a brilliant discovery!" Then they furrow. "Wait, are you saying that this," you wave your hand to gesture at his current form, "is because… you're, er, ready to… mate?"

He holds his head. "… Yes."

"Oh, okay. So, you need like… relief? A mate? Should I…?"

Your questions hang uncertainly in the air, unfinished because you're really not sure what you're supposed to even offer. A sarcastic smirk graces Seokmin's lips, condescending in the sort of way that's aimed more at himself.

"What kind of man do you think I am, mayfly?"

"A very, uh, Planty one for sure."

"Better than leafy, I suppose."

"Though you are quite… feathery."

Finally, he turns toward you, a wry and defeated smile on his weary face. His wings stretch outward and curl back in, elegantly waving toward you as if drawn in your direction. You can't help but smile at the object hanging from a cord around his neck.

"You still keep that old thing around?"

He looks at the golden cartridge and chuckles. "It's special."

"Me holding a gun to your head was special?""Meeting you will always remain a treasured memory, no matter the manner of how it happened." Seokmin falls quiet, lost in thought before hesitantly asking, "Did I not mention Plants mate for life? Well, at the very least, I know I do."

"Oh." Your astonishment reveals itself in a breathless gasp. There's no escaping that all-consuming, fiery cerulean gaze. "So is this the first time you've been… ready to, uh, mate?"

"No, I'm used to the way these cycles come and go. But this for sure is the worst bout yet."

"… Why?"

You hold your breath. He takes a step forward. Then another.

He's so close, if you leaned the slightest bit forward you'd press up against each other. Somehow, with an overwhelming sense of shyness guessing the underlying thoughts and what his answer will be, your eyes roam his bare upper chest and torso.

If you could caress him you would. All the shiny black feathers adorning his wings and the occasional ones sprouting along his forearms pointing to his Plant abilities. Each scar along with every bit of metal or his body's naturally grown wood that replaces chunks of lost flesh. He's kept them as reminders of when he's failed humans, though you've seen them only as when they've failed him. He shivers, like he can feel it, as if he knows what you're thinking and you questioningly re-meet his burning stare as he shoots you a wane smile.

Sheepishly, he rubs where the cybernetic arm attaches to his shoulder. Many have turned away in disgust or mock pity at the disfigurements. Yet despite the true abomination he looks like right now, there's only ever been pure empathy and acceptance he doesn't deserve — all from you.

"Conscious consent and reciprocation."

Your lips turn upward, joy causing your soul to unwittingly sing. "Does that mean… I'm your mate?"

"No."

It's like Gunsmoke completely collapses, and you're left twirling without footing in space. Seokmin matches your fallen expression with one of his own.

"What? Wh-why?"

"Don't get me wrong, it's —"

"I swear if you say 'It's me, not you'…"

He rather adorably tilts his head. "How did you know?"

"It's a typical cliche," you roll your eyes, "just give it to me straight, Seokmin. Is it 'cause I'm human?"

"… It's not that simple, and this isn't something trivial. It's — hah — it's a huge commitment." The use of your given name indicates his seriousness. "A lifetime one. For me, it's only ever been you… and it will always be you for as long as I live, which could be your whole lifespan! And I don't, hah, I don't know — hell, it's taking everything I can not to tear a dead man apart, let alone what I'd do if you'd change your mind, want something — someone else."

"You're doing it again, projecting and underestimating my feelings for you."

"It could be the effect of my pheromones, mayfly. We don't know every —"

"That's right! We don't know! So we have to trust each other and see."

"It's —"

"Let's not subject ourselves to the hypothetical. And what do you mean by dead man?"

Seokmin's jaw tenses, fingernails digging into numb skin. His wings waver, like they're considering cocooning around him for protection. But their tips simply flutter as if soothed by an unseen force, preventing them from enclosing completely.

Teasingly, you lean toward him and squint. "What else aren't you telling me, Seok? You pick a side hustle up that involves the deceased like Choi?"

He snorts at the audacity and doesn't take the bait. Instead, unfamiliar but still achingly familiar irises dart to your neck, tracing the silver chain laying against your skin. A dull sort of sadness fizzles out those blue fires and you clasp the shape of the locket beneath your shirt in realization.

"He was a boy, Seok. A boy I grew up with for a short period, one that felt like a brother to me."

"… You said you loved him."

"When?"

"… To Cheol. After you first met him."

"That would've been so long ago? How do you even remember that?"

He sighs, heavily. "It's not easy to forget. Your voice was so warm, so gentle, so in love when you admitted it."

"Love can mean different things! And I assure you, my feelings for you differ greatly from how I felt about him. And… he's… he's long gone, Seok."

Guilt burns in his eyes. "I know. Which makes me all the worse."

"No, it doesn't." You shake your head, a resigned smile resting on your lips, and hold your arms out. "'Cause I understand and forgive you. And most importantly, I love you."

It's uncertain if those words break or restore him, but the hard rigidness in his body melts away, sagging in a semblance of relief. Then he rushes forward into your waiting embrace, wings helping to propel him forward until they wrap around and press you to him tight, tickling areas where his arms aren't squeezing around you.

"And I adore you, my lovely mayfly."

You groan. "When will you stop calling me that?"

"Never," he snickers and you feel the curve of his lips as he comfortably nuzzles into the crook of your neck. "For as long as you're mine."

"Yours?"

"Mine."

"Sucker."

A chaste kiss brushes the lower tip of your ear. So ticklish and unexpected, you pull back with a giggle and playfully swat his shoulder. And just as he's about to dive forward and prove your little comment correct in retaliation, you burst into full-on laughter that leaves Seokmin to settle his hands on your waist with confusion crinkling his brow.

"What?"

"So that's why you were always having a deathly staring match between my childhood memorabilia?"

"… Was not."

"You — the most sentimental loser ever — definitely were!"

He pouts momentarily, the cute jut out of his lower lip quickly transforming to a devious smirk. "You'd bet on it?"

"Totally." You place your arms around his neck, bringing your bodies closer again and matching the charge of electricity with a clever tilt of your lips. "I'd win, too."

"And what's on the table?"

"Sixty billion double dollars, of course."

"That so?"

"Mhm, and it seems like someone's bounty matches that worth."

Seokmin quirks a brow. "Seems like you want me on the table."

"Winner takes all?"

"Mayfly, I've always been yours."

"Sap," you laugh again.

A bright grin certainly declares your delight in victory, though your partner in crime uses the distraction as an advantage for his earlier loss and wastes no time. Diving in, a sharpened canine grazes your pulse point, automatically causing your head to tilt to offer easier access. Two left wings sweetly swoop down for support, feathered tips tenderly brushing your forehead.

The heat of his tongue placates the dragging scratch of his fangs. Though it sears you alive, heating your entire body from the tips of your toes, swirling in your core, and concentrating beneath Seokmin's lips on your skin.

When reaching that cold, familiar necklace you treasure so much and he can't help but loathe, it's seized between his teeth before he registers the action. Tugging it away from your neck like a dog, you wonder if he'll even shake it like one. His eyes follow the length of the chain, focusing on where the locket pops out above your chest.

You raise a questioning brow. "You gonna just play with my jewelry or take my clothes off?"

"Oh," Seokmin whispers, jaw dropping, and suddenly stands stiffly at attention.

You watch, entranced by the bob of his Adam's apple as he visibly gulps. Large, calloused hands — so practiced in undressing you for baths and patching up wounds — falter as they skim along your sides in a fleeting touch. Smiling encouragingly, you intertwine your fingers with those of his prosthetic while leading the other one beneath your shirt, the rough flesh of his palm blisteringly hot against your stomach.

"Is this okay? Can it help calm your Plant powers?"

"Yes… but that means… giving yourself to me… forever."

"Can't think of anything I'd enjoy more."

Confident, you trail kisses up his jaw to his cheek, stopping near his ear. Playfully tugging at the earring hoop as you pull away. Then you break away and bend over, shimmying off your shorts in one smooth motion. Stepping out of them, next goes your top. As each fabric hits the floor, Seokmin's eyes become more lidded, heavy with want. Smoldering. Desiring.

Four black wings fan out and stay as rigid as his stance. As if they're waiting with bated breath. And when you finally stand bare before him, he sheepishly drags his gaze to the floor with a flustered smile.

"I'm the one naked and you're embarrassed?" you tease and his posture relaxes.

"Because you're a vision to behold."

"Says the one who looks like an angel."

You back up until your knees hit the side of the bed. Like those morbid tales that depict curious listeners following a luring call to their demise, Seokmin's only a step behind you. He doesn't dare let his eyes stray further from your own, a goofy grin on his face.

"Consider this my fall from grace then, mayfly."

Gingerly, you sit on the edge of the mattress, waiting for his next move. He towers over you in this position. Formidable in appearance yet oh-so-gentle when picking up your left hand to kiss your knuckles and rub his thumb across its faded scar. Another smooch gets placed to your inner wrist and you hold your breath at the passion in those blazing cyan depths that refuse to look away. Then, a cautious touch to your shoulder urges you onto your back. Obediently, you lay down and a bunch of stray loose feathers fly up into the air upon impact.

"Beautiful," he murmurs.

The clothed knee resting between your legs helps his arm support the weight of his body hovering above you. A tentative hand slides down from your shoulder to your hip, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Caressing every scar, memorizing each color and swirl of ink decorating your skin, and erasing any insecurities or blemishes you see in yourself. Cold digits draw whimsical shapes and tickle your abdomen, stopping above your pelvic bone.

"May I?"

"Of course."

Seokmin rejoices in your consent by littering your collarbone with love bites. And his touches move lower, tender despite their mechanical nature. Warmth blossoms and flows under every surface of your skin Seokmin's traced, coiling and settling in a pulsating — almost painful — heat rupturing between your legs.

Only he can be the one to relieve this ache which he precisely aims to do. A simple, single brush across sensitive folds instantly has your breath hitching, shaking beneath him.

"Are you alright?"

"Mhm… yes."

He audibly gulps at your unexpected whimper of ecstasy, reluctantly tearing away from watching amorous bliss overtake your facial expression to the wet heat detected by his pointer finger's sensors. A feral growl rumbles in his chest at the debauched sight of desire beginning to dampen your thighs — the trace of what he's been smelling from you now overloading every single one of his senses as he coaxes more to flow from you. Seokmin's more than thankful for his enhanced vision and the glow of cybernetic technology baring your most intimate parts to him.

Guided by an instinctual impulse, he eases a finger inside. Your back automatically arches off the bed, eliciting a sweet gasp of delight. The cool touch of the digit seized tightly by the pulsating walls of your cunt slowly warms as it adjusts to the welcome intrusion. He soothingly brushes the knuckle of his middle finger across the soft outer flesh of your pussy to relax its grip. Eventually it lets up enough to let him explore further and deeper than your own have ever reached.

"I'm… I'm not sure how best to please you," Seokmin admits, drinking in your every reaction to his curious ministrations. "But there's this urge, this need, to make you feel good. Prep you properly for my… my entry."

By pure accident, he strokes a rough patch of nerves that makes your eyes roll back, hips lifting at the sensation of wanting more of whatever that feeling was, and your quiet noises melt into a loud, needy moan.

"More," you plead, "touch me more, Seok."

He eases his other finger inside without question, grunting at the squeeze that almost prevents him from moving to where you want him the most. But unlike the rest of his quivering body, the prosthesis remains steady, still, and patient. Waiting until it can bully itself and a third finger past your entrance's vice-like clench.

You start pulling on your breasts, trying to alleviate the tingling in them. Seokmin observes with a keen eye and a toothy, fanged grin. After a bit, he leans down to let his tongue trace the underside of one mound, leaving behind a saliva trail shining in the unconventional lighting as he tends to the next. Alternating with playful nips and naughty tugs to your nipples whenever your grip on them falters from the overwhelming pleasure.

So attentive and eager, soon you're writhing beneath him as you hit your peak. One hand grips your hip tightly, surely to leave a bruise with the way it cramps. His other doesn't let up, well-oiled mechanisms continuing to pump in and out of your trembling pussy until you whine from the overstimulation.

His wings fold protectively around both of you like a canopy as you share a tender kiss. Dazed and happy, you tenderly brush back black bangs and play with one of the feathers that's sprouted near the hairline above his ear. He shivers.

"Let me take care of you too."

"Are you sure? What about your shoulder?"

"That's the least of my concerns right now."

"I can still…"

"Later. First, I want to help you."

Suddenly, Seokmin's shy again, flushed cheeks darkening. "I… I think I'm a little different… down there so it's okay if you don't want to… or get scared."

"It's not like I've seen enough dicks to compare whether what you're packing is normal."

The both of you share a goofy laugh that eases the presumed awkwardness. He sits back to unbutton his pants but you stop him.

"May I?"

You might as well have knocked the air out of his lungs. He stares at you wide-eyed and then emphatically nods, finally clearing his throat to squeak out, "Sure."

Ignoring the aftershocks of your earlier orgasm, you sit up and kneel in front of him. Intent on a few minor distractions, your mouth and hands start at his shoulders to work their way down. Imagining you have the power to heal the damage dealt to his body and soul through tender touches.

You see a sad sense of beauty and justice in the patchwork of metal bolts and bark. And as you apply marks of love that bruise and blossom between them, he lets out a content warble. You're quick to undo the button of his pants, both of you gasping at the utterly wet mess seeping through the material when you tug the zipper down with your teeth.

He lifts his hips to help and once he's just as naked as you do you take him in. Anatomy was meagerly touched upon during your days at the convent, so truthfully all you're aware of at the sight of his heavy cock is the need to be filled with it.

And the closest thing to take him is your mouth, jaw already aching before you even open it. Almost reverently, your hands wrap around to stabilize it. Seokmin hisses pleasantly at the contact.

"You don't have to —"

He's cut off by a groan as you inquisitively suckle the tip. The copious amounts of slick smearing from it and down the base taste sweeter than Seungcheol's lollipops and you moan heartily, causing his thighs beneath your elbows to tense at the vibrations.

"Oh, mayfly."

A wing caresses your cheek that bulges as you take more and more of him, Seokmin's hands tearing at the sheets. The tip of another wing tantalizingly drags down your bare back. Your hands begin to explore, finding the puffy edges around the slit from which the thick cock emerges from. His hips jolt upwards at the contact to sensitive tissues, causing you to gag.

"Ah, 'm sorry!"

While he whispers repeated apologies, you're only compelled to take him further. Slowly you get used to the stretch, but no matter how much more you're able to squeeze down your throat there's still enough of his length for both of your hands to play with. It gets easier the more aggressive you get, his cock seeming to respond to your vigor in tandem. Soon you're lost to the haze of whether you're bobbing your head up and down or it's swirling languidly in your mouth on its own accord.

Seokmin's hips stutter but you feel the tremor first pulse against the inner walls of your throat. His cock throbs as you pull off of it, hollowing your cheeks and parting with deliberately powerful suction. A loud pop releases its tip and your hand supports its weighty girth falling forward. You dig the nails of your free hand into the muscle of his quaking thigh, ducking down to teethe at the puffy slit from where his cock must emerge.

Moving on to licking and dragging the point of your tongue along the sizable vein lining the underside causes Seokmin's low groans to turn into a high-pitched trill. Once you reach the swollen, leaking head and nibble on the hard glans, it spasms wildly and finally erupts. From the top slit seeps sweet syrupy fluid that readily overflows into your awaiting, open mouth.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," he blabbers.

You'd reply that there's no need for gratitude, perhaps you'd thank him, but the viscous release keeps spilling out. Rivulets trickle well past your lips and coat your chest. Although still in a euphoric daze, his eyes flash with sharp satisfaction. Instantly possessive at the sight of your bare body decorated so erotically.

His wings snap open — filled with purpose — and your face is pressed down into the mattress. Surrounded in a smoky musk as the angelic monstrosity it belongs to and destined to be your mate hovers above.

Your voice comes out hoarse as you raise up onto your elbows and spitefully spit out a black feather. "Do those wings of yours prevent you from being topped or something?"

"I'll let you find out another time, partner," Seokmin huffs, laughter evident despite his apparent breathlessness. He steals a tender kiss, pleased grunting at how your lips — shiny and swollen — taste of him. "But for now…"

Like an anchor, the tech material warmed by your shared body heat and passion winds underneath your hips, keeping them raised. A calloused, ticklish touch roams traces your spine. He draws an occasional spiral here and there as he goes, mindful of your wound, until firmly pinning the nape of your neck to the side, creating the perfect arch of your back.

"I think you'll like this," Seokmin says as if he isn't liking the view below him.

But for you, straight ahead lies the dresser's mirror. It reflects the full manifestation of an independent Plant poised to devour a human in the most intimate sense. The fearsome size of his cock lies heavy on top of your ass, leaking droplets of arousal all over your backside.

"Will it fit?"

"Of course, you are mine to claim and take." His hips just forward and you both moan. "I think we're both wet enough to try."

"I trust you."

"Let me know if it hurts in any way and we'll stop right away, mayfly."

Many troupes of desert-traveling dancers have mesmerized you before. Yet even they can't compare to the graceful and smooth motion of Seokmin releasing your neck to align his tip with the entrance of your cunt and slowly bullying his way in.

Tears of pain mixing to unfathomable pleasure blur the vision of your mouth widening to let out whines and moans. "Seokkie…"

"Mhm, mayfly… my love… my mate."

Finally, the front of his thighs are flush against yours. Hips pressed tight against your ass. Fully sheathed inside your tight hole, neither of you have ever felt such intensity before. He surrenders his body weight on top of yours, hands braced outside of yours clenching loose feathers and silk sheets. The outer heaviness matches the intensity of what your pussy struggles to accommodate.

"Mine."

Seokmin's hips swirl at a slow pace. Rather than thrust, he massages the sensitive glands at the base of his cock with the soft flesh of your ass. His length seems to shrink and grow and writhe with a mind of its own, filling and teasing you nonstop. Leaving no surface of your inner walls untouched or untended to for too long.

"Yours."

You shudder in blissed-out delirium and Seokmin lights up — literally.

Fluorescent lines glow in distinct patterns across skin, brightening the more he starts to pant and build up your shared pleasure. Sharp canines prick into the skin of your unmarked shoulder as he wraps his prosthesis under your stomach to raise your hips, the new position driving you faster to that rapidly approaching edge. You cry out with a lurch, blurrily making out his glowing form that shudders above.

Though the view in the mirror gets hidden by black wings stroking your entire body. Teasing the underside of your tits and tenderly brushing away the stings of his teeth marks.

"I-I love you," Seokmin rasps.

"Love…" You manage to enunciate the words, mind emptying and drool wetting the bed as your second peak approaches. "Love you too."

Pain and pleasure draw forth an onslaught of your apparent arousal that lecherously mixes with the frothy mess dribbling from his cock. Claws appear on Seokmin's right hand, another addition to the bestial Plant features emerging in the throes of passion. He's not completely lost to the primal thrall though, able to resist from breaking skin.

Delicately scratching your waist without drawing blood, then using the finely pointed tips to pluck and tease effortlessly at your clit. You cry out, body shaking as waves of euphoria crash against the shoreline of imminent pleasure.

Seokmin helps ride out your peak with a couple of speedy thrusts. The feeling of his hips slamming into you has you seeing more stars than Gunsmoke's galaxy contains. And just as you're overcome with too much stimulation, he lets go with a particularly strong bite into the top of your shoulder.

His cock softens and its heavy weight like a blanket along with the continual pump of his warm, soothing release. The feeling of it leaving none of your inner walls untouched feels as sweet as it tasted on your tongue and helps ease the ache inside your cunt. Still joined together and slick with stickiness, he collapses onto his side and gently assists you with rolling over so you can face him.

"Hey, you."

"Hello there yourself, lovely mayfly."

Your nose wrinkles but gets smoothed out by feather tips playing with the ends of your hair. Seokmin smiles as you snuggle closer into his chest so two of his wings can cocoon around you as the heated fervor from prior activities cools.

"Did that help?"

"… Yes," he says though his tone wavers with hesitance.

You raise your chin and see the electric blue luster hasn't faded yet from his gaze. Sheepishly, the corner of his mouth raises and you shiver, feeling the swell of his cock stretch out your pussy. The bulge it creates brushes against Seokmin's abdomen and he twitches.

"Sorry, it's… I'm gonna be kinda insatiable now that I've had a taste…" He trails off, wings snapping behind him. Slowly, he pulls his hips away and you both hiss as his cock is dragged out.

"What are you —"

You're cut off by the animalistic glimmer in his gaze, catching the feral smirk that he attempts to hide by licking his palm. Quick as lightning, Seokmin fleetingly swipes the outer lips of your cunt and brings his fingers, tonguing at them. Body set aflame again, neither of your break eye contact as he moans headily.

"But not of this," he rasps.

Before you know it, you're staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stickers on his ceiling with your mate between your legs. His wings trail along your calves, their flexible ends curling near your inner thighs, encouraging them to spread and stay open, pinning them in place.

"Oh, aren't you a beauty?"

He moans shamelessly at the sight of your messy, glistening pussy. You squirm at the ticklish sensation of his feathers and that smoldering, ravenous look. If only he knew what it was like to see him devour you with his mouth.

Delicious.

Just like the feeling of his tongue working its way inside and licking up the shared essence of your releases.

Your fingers weave between strands of hair as black as night, tugging lightly and accidentally snagging one of his ear feathers. He moans eagerly, and the vibration has you shuddering, already quickly nearing another mind-shattering orgasm. But you don't let him carry you there too fast, smooth brain muscles trying to form a question.

"How… long… how long do these cycles last?"

Seokmin presses a loving kiss to your twitching clit and blows, entranced by how you clench around nothing. Then he smirks, elongated teeth shining in the darkness like a predatory warning though you have nothing to fear.

"As much as you can handle but… we're really only just getting started, mayfly."

The motion light kicks on as Seungcheol shifts his boots in the direction of the unlit kitchen area. Junhui and Minghao's entrance awaken the rest of the lights and they frown at the makeshift bunker set up.

"What are you three doing in here?"

Seungkwan sleepily mumbles a curse word and next to him, Mingyu blearily rubs his eyes. A scattering of empty pudding cups and bottles lie around them as well as a disorganized array of poker cards.

"We're afraid to venture out of here."

Junhui shares a secretive look with his closest friend at Seungkwan's cryptic words. "Ah, so that's happened. Or happening."

"'Bout time y'all came 'round. Time for ya to pay up!"

"Pay up for what?"

"Compensation. 'M the one who got the closest to bein' right knowin' they'd fuck after confessin'."

"If anyone needs compensation, it's me for the mental damage of having to make one of my lovelies into an enhanced sex toy."

Seungcheol guffaws. "Ya didn't! Ya lil cheatin', schemin' scientist!"

Meanwhile, Mingyu looks mighty concerned. "Does that mean Seokmin has a dildo for an arm?!"

Minghao crosses his arms with a steely glare. "No."

"Oh good. I don't think I could look at him the same."

"I don't think any of us will ever look at him the same again."

Junhui eagerly rocks back and forth on his heels, hands stuffed in the deep pockets of his lab coat. "Do you think they discovered all the functions and benefits of it yet?"

"Should be our next bettin' round."

"No more bets. I don't care if it's half a double dollar to go in, I refuse to go through this again."

Mingyu elbows his raven-haired companion. "C'mon, your heart's warmed by this!"

"Warmed and consumed by the rage and fury of hellfire, yes."

Giggling, the tall man smiles widely and holds his hand out. "Alright, I win then!"

"Win what? Thought you didn't remember your bet."

Mingyu purses his lips. "Only because none of you took me seriously and joked with a bunch of gross innuendos when I said they'd find their home in one another!" He then sighs dreamily. "But if I'm right, we'll know by tomorrow morning."

"Who says it'll be tomorrow mornin'. Might take weeks. Months even, I reckon'."

"I'll kick you all out before it comes to that," Minghao threatens and runs a hand through the few strands of hair without a bead. He tosses a wad of money in front of Mingyu. "Never involve me in this again."

Despite all the grumbling, everyone has a sense of lightness in their hearts at the thought of their dear friends finally getting together. And the happiest of them all is Mingyu, who cheerily gathers his prized double dollars, dreaming of all the pudding he can buy.

A lone figure stands on the edge of the valley of the Melca Border. The Sea of Sand, aptly named, can change tide and turn vicious at any second. Their cloak billows in the sandy winds that whip around them, though even the steadfast hood can't hide the satisfied smile on their face.

"You did well," they commend and the name that falls from their lips is one some might consider lost to the sands of time.

"Saintess." Another figure materializes out of the sand gusts in response to the praise. "It is to be done as you said."

"Very well. Shall we go now?"

Whether it's the mysterious sands that swirl around and whisk them away or the lost technology cube that transports them, no one will ever know for no one ever saw them. Like ghosts, they disappear and find themselves outside the real ghost town — where it all began.

A toma croaks in the distance. Brave travelers dare cross the ruined wasteland and the saintess meditating atop one of the largest rocks hidden in the shadows opens her gray eyes tinted by lilac in the glow of the moons to observe. Despite all of her traveling, the white robes wrapped around her body remain in pristine condition.

She turns behind to look at the man standing over a scattering of stones, staring intently at one of them. With poise and purpose, she dusts off her clothes and strides over to him.

"Chan."

Brown eyes tear away from his own name carved into the headstone in front of him to look at the one who's said it aloud.

"Yes, Saintess?"

"Do you regret it?"

"No. Never."

"Good," she states, satisfied with his response. With a grand sweep of her hood to cover short, dark hair, she gestures to the east. "We will set up camp one more night before returning to the Saint in the morning before he speaks with our Master."

Chan mutely nods, following the saintess back into the desert where she confidently leads him to a cave that will shield them from the unpredictable nature of Gunsmoke's wastelands. He thinks of you, the girl he must keep safe and two brothers. One with wings as pure white despite his continual revelry with hate-filled darkness, the other bearing ones the complete opposite color of his twin — a wild card.

He reminisces over the Blessed and Holy Sisterhood of Little Ivywood, the convent and all the orphans that lived there. Pondering Sister Meryl's role, who stands before him now as the revered Saintess, leader for the Eye of Joshua and second only to the Bishop of the cult named after himself. She moves curious little statues back and forth across the surface of a large flat rock and the young man can't help but ask her a question in the unnerving silence.

"Do you think this will work?"

Meryl smiles elusively, as always. She picks up the smallest one with a deliberate flourish, placing it on a blackened space close to the last row of alternating squares carved into the stone's surface.

"Have you ever played chess before?"

"No, what is it?"

"An Earthern board game. It is quite complicated." Gesturing to the piece she just moved, she continues. "This is a pawn, the weakest of all chess pieces."

Chan bristles. "But strength comes in numbers, no? There are eight of each color, surely the right side can find a way to win."

Unfazed by his agitation, the saintess nods placatingly. "With the right strategy, even a pawn may become a queen — the most powerful. Unpredictable." She points to a white figurine with a cross on top of it. "Enough to checkmate a king."

Entranced, Chan watches as she rearranges and repositions various pieces across the faux chessboard. Soon, the pawn that took on the mantle of a Black Queen captures the White King. His eyes roam what's left on the battlefield at the end of the match, pointing to one that looks like a tower.

"What's that one?"

"A rook. It best supports an allied pawn towards promotion from behind the scenes." Her eyes sparkle mischievously. "It's most powerful during the end of the game, as you can see."

Chan gulps, holding his breath for a moment, and clears his throat. "Then I'm ready."

"Wonderful," Meryl nods, "we'll depart for Master Dokyeom's stronghold in the morning. I'm sure Joshua, our dear Saint, will be… pleased upon our return."

"To the glory of the Black King's rise."

"And to the glory of our so-called queen."

Keep him safe, Chan thinks to himself as he settles on the ground. And yourself. One day we'll reunite in the most joyous of occasions…

He pulls out a faded wanted poster with the infamous outlaw worth sixty billion double dollars, donning a wishful smile before closing his eyes and murmuring, "I'd even bet this impossible amount on it."

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