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assassinsblade · 4 months

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Heavy Weather

In which yours and Azriel’s mission is disrupted by a major inconvenience: your cycle.

WC: 4.1k

Warnings: Nothing really, just fluff and period stuff!

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Gods, it was cold.

The snow fell down in sheets, covering the forest floor and soaking into your leathers. Azriel was trekking about twenty feet in front of you, eyes scouring the area, although his grip was loose around Truth Teller at his side.

“The Winter Court…” you grouched, mimicking your high lord. “Why couldn’t it have been Day Court. Or Autumn.”

Azriel chuckled. “You wanna spend time with Helion and Eris? I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

The air in front of you steamed as you let out an exhausted breath. You both had been pushing through this snow for hours. You couldn’t even remember what you were looking for at this point. You had only been there for about ten hours, and a little into the cold wilderness, you found your brain becoming foggy and your body fatigued. You really needed a blanket and sleep.

“Helion would never let me freeze. He likes body heat too much. And Eris has fire powers.”

“Something tells me Eris wouldn’t be too keen on helping.”

You shrugged, lifting your foot to step over a snow-covered log. “He’s always been fine to me.”

A muscle in Azriel's jaw jumped, his wings going tight against his back. You could barely make out the pink coloring of his mouth through the snowfall. “I don’t trust him,” he said. “Not after Mor, and not with you.”

“So dramatic.” You attempted to ease the tension in the air at your mention of the soon-to-be High Lord of the Autumn Court.

“I’m dramatic? You live in the Night Court and suddenly you act like snow is going to kill you.”

You did feel like it was going to kill you. You didn’t know what had you so exhausted, why the snow seemed to be soaking through your clothes and seeping its way straight into your bones. You had slept okay last night, hadn’t you? You were wearing weather-appropriate clothing. You had done enough training and exercise that this hike shouldn’t be wearing you down this much.

You hadn’t realized that Azriel had turned around to look at you, stopping in his tracks as he waited for you to catch up.

“Are you actually okay?” His voice was more serious this time, less teasing.

Giving him a nod, you focused on putting one foot in front of the other. “Yeah. Let’s just make shelter somewhere soon. I really am cold.”

He nodded, but he didn’t look convinced. You didn’t blame him, you must have looked pathetic. Your teeth were chattering so loud the same spies you came to the Winter Court to track would no doubt be able to hear you if close. Your body felt like you had weights pulling you down under the earth, with each step comparable to trudging through quicksand. And you just felt off - like you could pass out or throw up at any moment.

Azriel waited until you were by his side once again before continuing to move.

“There’s an abandoned cabin not too far from here. We’ll camp there for the night, get you some rest. Maybe a blanket or two.”

The wind burnt your cheeks as you tilted you head to look at him. He seemed completely unaffected. In fact, it was as if he was taking a stroll through the Summer Court, right along the water, basking in the breeze.

“How are you not freezing?”

His lips quirked up at your angry tone. “Believe it or not, Sunshine, I grew up in the snowy Illyrian mountains.”

You nodded, only half-hearing his response. And then your feet were stumbling over one another, and Azriel had to reach out quickly to prevent you from falling.

“Not too far now,” he reassured. But he kept his hand on your leathers the rest of the way to the cabin, monitoring your movements and ensuring you wouldn’t just topple over. Every so often, you felt him look over at you, as if he didn’t trust his hand and wanted to make sure you hadn’t fallen behind again.

It felt like hours before the rickety structure came into view, and by that point, you truly knew something was wrong with you. Had you been poisoned at some point during the trip? Were you sick? You didn’t think you’d ever been sick in your entire life as fae.

Once you were at the landing of the cabin, you realized Azriel had been supporting your weight much more than you had intended or thought. His entire forearm was supporting your back now, pushing you forward until you crossed the threshold into the enclosed space.

You heard the door shut tightly behind you, sucking the sound of the wind out with it. In the silence, you nearly collapsed.

There wasn’t much time to take in your surroundings. You briefly saw a couch, a kitchen area, and a fireplace. There was probably a bathroom down the hall, maybe a bed if you were lucky. Your thoughts didn’t go past that though as you stumbled for the sofa.

Azriel watched as you fell into it, your head tipping back and eyes scrunching closed. You tried to school your features into something less uncomfortable, but you doubted it was convincing.

“I’ll get a fire going.”

You heard his footsteps move toward the fireplace, the scuffling of movements as wood was moved from the keep to the hearth. However, despite his action to get the cabin warm for you, you could still feel his eyes drifting toward the couch intermittently.

Wood began cracking, a light forming in the corner of your vision. Still cold, still weak, you tried to breathe steadily.

You were about to say something to distract Azriel from your odd behavior when you felt fabric being laid over your body. Your hands automatically went to grip the blanket, pulling it up to your chin weakly before peeking your eyes open.

Azriel was already moving away from the couch, but he didn’t leave the room before muttering a quiet, “Get some sleep.”

Sleep, unfortunately, did not come easy to you. You alternated between feeling like you were going to vomit and feeling like you were being stabbed. Your muscles ached, and it seemed to take all of your energy to rise your chest in a breath.

You tried to focus on the fire, on the way sparks flew from the wood, briefly illuminating the dark stone. The warmth of the flames was drifting toward the couch now, and you tried to adjust your body to move closer to it.

In your movement, though, you noticed the way your damp clothes felt different against your skin. The snow had soaked into the fabric, but the feeling you recognized in your core at your movement toward the fireplace had you nearly whimpering.

Azriel was there before you could make it fully off the couch, reaching his hands out to catch you from falling.

“What are you doing?”

“I- I need to-“

“-Lay down,” he interrupted. “Rest.”

You tried to breathe through the pain. Your vision was becoming blurry with each stab through your abdomen, and you honestly did not understand how you missed your symptoms earlier.

“I can’t, Azriel… I need-“

“-I know.” He gently guided you back onto the couch, hands pulling the blanket over you once again. “I know. Just breathe. I’ll be right back.”

Did he know? Could he sense it now? Could he smell the blood? Recognize the symptoms too?

There wasn't time to be embarrassed because he was gone again quickly, and you couldn’t help the tears that escaped at the pain running through your body.

When you had first met Feyre and she had told you the difference between fae and human cycles, you had nearly cursed the Mother for torturing your kind. You had been literally stabbed before, beaten, and burned, and nothing compared to the pain of your cycle.

“Here,” Azriel said, reappearing before you. He laid some sort of steaming broth he must have found in a cupboard on the table in front of you, along with some torn pieces of cloth, presumably from a towel found in the rest of the house.

You looked at the items, tears blurring your eyes again. You felt like you couldn’t move, everything ached, everything hurt, everything felt wrong-

“I need help,” you got out through your tears, your voice sounding weak even to yourself.

“Okay.” Azriel nodded. “That’s okay.”

He gripped under your legs and behind your back, pulling you up until you were on the edge of the couch. "I have changes of clothes for us in my bag. Do you want me to help you to the bathroom?”

You nodded, too embarrassed to look at him. Azriel didn’t say a word though, instead grabbing a few of the pieces of cloth, his bag off the ground, and scooped you up into his arms.

He walked you both to the bathroom, and you kept your face buried close to his chest both so you wouldn’t have to see if you got anything on the couch and so that Azriel wouldn’t see the redness in your cheeks.

When he entered the bathroom, he set you onto the counter before setting the supplies down. From his bag, he pulled out the extra pair of underwear, pants, bra, and shirt you had packed for yourself.

“Do you want to wash off?” He asked genuinely, glimpsing over his shoulder at the antique bathtub.

Did you want to be clean? Absolutely. But your entire body felt like it was going to fall through the floor, weighed down with aches, pain, and exhaustion. You weren’t even sure you could get your arms to move enough to scrub yourself clean.

You whimpered at your inability to do what you needed, at how weak you felt, and the frustration that coursed through your veins.

"Hey, it's okay." Azriel brought his hands up to cup your cheeks, bringing your eyes to meet his own. "What do you need? What can I do?"

You just shook your head, face flushing red. "I can't ask you to help me with this."

Because this was embarrassing and some males thought it was weak and gross and something to be kept taboo. You were quite literally bleeding through your leathers, with your abdomen, back, and legs all twisting and cramping in pain, heat scouring your body, and you felt like a little kid again -- needing to be taken care of, unable to do the basic task of looking after yourself. It was humiliating, but especially in front of Azriel of all people. Someone so composed, so strong.

It wasn't as if your friends didn't know about your cycle or what you female fae went through. On the contrary, they always offered to help where they could. If you missed out on training because of your cycle, Cassian would always bring up some tonics or some extra food and water to make sure you were okay. A few cycles that were particularly bad had Rhys sending after Madja, and Azriel rushing when he heard. He was the one who had advocated for Madja to give you some sleeping tonics to help you sleep through the pain instead of withstanding it.

But here? On a mission? This was too much.

"Why not?" Azriel's question brought you back to the present. He looked genuinely confused, his brows furrowing slightly.

"Azriel..." you pleaded with his questioning, arms wrapping around your stomach as pain hit you again. You swayed slightly on the counter, Azriel's hands dropping from your face to your waist to steady you.

"You're in pain." His voice was serious, and you wanted to hide your face in his chest. "Let me help you. I don't like seeing you like this."

You swallowed, trying to reign in your shame and embarrassment. It wasn't a big deal, you told yourself. This was natural. And Azriel is over five hundred years old, surely he's seen and dealt with cycles and all they entail before. It doesn't have to make a difference being yours.

"Okay," you whispered. "Could you- could you uh, help me wash off? I don't think I can..."

He didn't make you finish your sentence once he realized you didn't know how to explain your own weakness at the moment. He just nodded, bringing his hands to your arms and rubbing up and down comfortingly.

"Of course."

You nodded, more-so reassuring yourself that this was okay. He was okay. Right? He'd say if he was uncomfortable?

Azriel turned and twisted the faucet to the bathtub, fingers resting under the water that came out until he found the temperature pleasing. The water was clear, thankfully, and the tub looked clean as well.

Once that was filling, he turned to the cabinets you were seated on, bending down and looking through them for any kind of soap and towels. Finding the supplies he was looking for, he set them by the edge of the tub and turned to where you were sitting.

"Arms up?"

His question was hesitant, asking more than if you needed help. Did you want to completely undress? Were you comfortable with him seeing you like this?

You lifted your arms, the weight of your limbs feeling heavy. You wanted to throw up, to go to sleep, to cry.

Azriel's gentle hands moved the fabric up your torso, keeping his touch to the clothing only. Once it was free from your form, you nodded at him to keep going.

He grasped your hips and lifted you to stand, holding onto the majority of your weight when you seemed unstable. His hands gripped your own and brought them to his own torso.

"Hold onto me."

And you did, allowing yourself to lean into his strong form as he unbuttoned your snow-soaked pants and began to pull them down. You rested your head on his chest, turning your face into him to hide your embarrassment at the blood that no doubt coated your pants and your middle.

Tears pricked your eyes at how vulnerable this all was, but you blinked them away as Azriel backed up, your bare form now before him.

His casual look over you wasn't one of lust or desire but of care and concern. He was looking for injuries, hypothermia, anything that would need immediate attention before the bath. When he was satisfied, his gentle touch led you to the edge of the tub, grasping your forearm and helping you ease into the water.

You sank low into the heat, releasing a breath you hadn't known you had been holding from your cramps.

Azriel seemed to notice how you had been holding your breath too. He brought a hand up to push some of the sweat-slicked hair back from your forehead. "Make sure you're breathing, sweetheart."

You nod, closing your eyes and trying to relax through the stabbing in your back.

You could hear the soap bottle cap opening, the sound of liquid meeting a hand, and scrubbing. Peeking an eye open, you see Azriel getting his hands wet and reaching for one of your arms.

"Is this okay?" He asked.

Your heart thumped in your chest. He was too good for you. Better than any male you had ever met.

"Yes. Thank you." Your voice was small, weak in your state, but you both could hear the emotion in it.

"You don't have to thank me," Azriel responded, his hands moving up and down your arm softly before reaching for the other. "I'm sorry you have to go through this."

Humming in response, you sat up so he could help get your back. He was mindful of your comfort, sweeping over any vulnerable or inappropriate places lightly to ensure you were clean but never lingering.

While he washed, he told you stories of Rhys' sister. How when they were younger and she had gotten her first cycle, Rhys hadn't known what to do. None of them had. They thought she was dying, and Rhys' mother had to corral them together into the living room to get them to calm down and stop their panicking. He laughed at the story, and you couldn't help the relaxed giggles of your own.

"I can't imagine the stoic shadowsinger panicking over a girl's cycle."

His lips curved into a soft smile, eyes bright with adoration. "What do you think I'm doing now?"

You looked up at him, smiling. You couldn't believe how comfortable you felt, how normal this all felt. You were completely naked in front of him, completely bare to his touch while he sat clothed next to you, but it felt safe.

"You don't seem too panicked," you tried to tease.

He scoffed. "You should have seen me in the kitchen when we first got here. I was borderline scrambling."

You laughed, and he led you to a sitting position, stroking your back with his fingers lightly. "You ready to get out?"

At your confirmation, he scooped you up into his arms, no doubt getting water everywhere on the floor and also all over his own clothes. You squeaked in protest, but he didn't seem to care, only setting you back onto your feet and wrapping you up tightly in a towel.

Teeth chattering at the newfound cold outside of the bath, you gripped the towel around you, staring up into the bright hazel eyes of the male in front of you. He was still holding you tightly, eyes surveying your form. You wondered what he was thinking in this moment, but you wanted nothing more than to lean forward and let him keep holding you.

His hands moved with the towel, rubbing your arms before bringing the fabric down to your legs.

Right. You needed to get dressed.

"Here we go." Azriel grabbed your spare change of clothes, starting with your underwear. He took some of the makeshift pads he had created, placing one in the underwear before leaning down.

He looked up at you from his knees, and you wanted to frame the image. The sight of this angel, his dark hair messy from the snow, hazel eyes shining with care, on his knees for you, hands open to help take care of you. You wanted to jump on him, kiss him, and never let him stop touching you.

But this was Azriel, and he had never given you any inclination that was something he wanted.

You stepped into the fabric, allowing the shadowsinger to pull it up your legs. Once those were on, he bundled you up in your new shirt before holding the pants in front of you.

"Did you want to wait until we leave for these? They are leathers. I don't want you to be more uncomfortable just for the sake of feeling like you have to wear them."

"I'd rather not."

He nodded, setting them aside before wrapping an arm around your waist and guiding you back to the couch.

You were feeling a little better now that you were clean and not bleeding down your legs, but you still felt drowsy and like someone was hacking your insides apart. On your way back, your knees nearly gave way with the pain of a particular cramp, and you couldn't help the cry that escaped with it.

Azriel caught you swiftly, hiking you back up into his arms.

When he laid you back onto the couch, now covered in blankets with even more on top of you, you looked up at the exhausted male. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he said. He sounded genuine, but you couldn't help but feel guilty.

You gritted your teeth through the pain, gripping your abdomen tightly. "I ruined this mission."

"Nothing has been ruined."

He walked over to the fireplace once you were settled, stoking the logs to get the fire rising again. "Well," he continued. "Except your pants."

You couldn't help but laugh, and the shadowsinger actually cracked a smile at the sound. But then you were grimacing, tears coming to your eyes and your breath hitching in your throat at your body's attack on itself.

Azriel frowned, hands twitching at his sides.

"We'll get ahold of Rhys," he reassured. "Get you to Madja."

You tried to breathe through it, knuckles white from gripping the blankets around you. You could hear his footsteps getting closer, feel his heat as he kneeled down next to the couch beside you, feel his strong hands unravel your fingers from the blanket and grip them in his own.

His other hand came up and slowly stroked your hair back, gently weaving his fingers through the strands. Your eyes fluttered shut at the gentle touch, despite how tightly you squeezed his hand.

"I'm okay," you tried to convince him. "It's just a cycle."

You weren't sure why you were trying to downplay your pain so much. Were you trying to come across stronger than you were? To impress him? Did you think he would truly find you weak?

"I've seen fae be out for a full week because of a cycle. Not eating or drinking, just trying to make it through... You don't have to be okay."

And it was as if you needed his permission, because as soon as the words left his mouth, you tilted your head back, eyebrows scrunching in pain, and let the truth flow past your own lips.

"Yeah, it fucking hurts."

He laughed, but the sound was sympathetic. Bringing your hand up to his lips, he placed a gentle kiss there, and you nearly shot up at the action. You tried not to think too much into it but his lips on your skin was something you couldn't just ignore.

"Is there anything else I can do?"

His voice was soft, gentle, reverent. And he was looking at you like he would do anything you asked. Like you could tell him to go sit in the snow for an hour while you basked in the heat, and he would stand up diligently before marching his way into the blizzard.

He looked at you expectantly, and your heart swelled. One day you would tell him. Tell him how you loved him, how you thought that maybe there was something there between you two, something that tied your souls and hearts together.

"I'm still kind of cold," you admitted. "Could you lay with me?"

At first you thought the question was a bit of a risk, something he might not be comfortable with. But then you thought about how you were completely naked before him not even twenty minutes prior, and you felt less embarrassed to ask.

"Are you sure? There's not much room."

You nodded, and he looked down at his own snow-soaked leathers. He grunted in disapproval and discomfort, reaching down and lifting the tight clothing from his body. You nearly gasped at the action, at the toned body that now faced you. Gods, he was beautiful.

He walked away briefly, presumably to gather his other change of clothes. He might have even cleaned up a bit, because when he appeared again, he looked clean and comfortable. And then he was reaching under the blankets to adjust where you laid.

His body sunk into the cushions of the sofa, and he gathered you into his arms until you were halfway on his chest, his soft and clean shirt overwhelming your senses as you curled into him.

You hummed. "This is nice."

His arms were loose around you, but his hand was resting purposefully curled around your side, his fingers inching over onto your abdomen in a protective and comforting gesture. As if he could take your pain away with just a touch.

"Try to rest. We should be able to get back to Velaris in the morning."

You pushed away the pain radiating through your body, the disorientation and dizziness, and instead focused on the warm muscled body underneath you. The way he encased you, the way he made you feel safe and at peace despite your current state. The way he cared for you.

You would tell him soon -- how you felt.

But for now, you buried your face deeper into his chest, your body falling lax against him. For now, you would rest and savor this moment.

For now, you would pretend like he was doing this because he loved you too. And you held onto that until sleep took your pain away.

#acotar x reader #azriel x reader #azriel x you #acotar fic #azriel fluff

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mint-yooxgi · 8 months

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Valiant - Yandere!Centaur!Yunho

Yandere AU & Centaur AU - First Person POV

Genre: Mature, Smutty Themes, Internal Monologue

Pairing: Yunho X Implied Chubby!Fem!Reader

Words: 1,939

Warnings: Princess as both a title and petname. Implied kidnapping. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Centaur!Yunho is a clumsy dork. That's it. That's the note. Also, this one is meant to be read like the Hyunjin drabble, where he's speaking at you the whole time! Anyways, Feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

The Eleventh of The Feral Drabbles

“Don’t worry Princess, you’re safe with me. I won’t let those others hurt you any more. You’ll never feel trapped. You’ll never be lost. Just let me take care of you.

Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’ve got you now. Don’t be frightened. I’m still the same Yunho you love and know.

I’ll admit, showing myself to you like this wasn’t my original intention, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I couldn’t stand to see the way they were treating you, keeping you trapped-

Sorry, I know I probably shouldn’t bring up such traumatic events so soon after they happened. I just had to steal you away- I mean… save you. Yes, save you.

They were going to lock you up and throw away the key! They were going to keep you away from me!

I didn’t want that, either, Princess. The thought of never being able to see you again… well, it’s far too great to bear. Not only that, but the idea that they could keep someone as precious as you like a prisoner in your own home…

You see now why I had to step in?

Like I said before, you don’t have to be scared. I’m here to rescue you, of course! It’s probably a little weird for you right now, you’ve only ever seen my upper torso over the garden wall… You can just think of me as a talking horse! Well, it’s a bit literal, but-

There’s that laugh I love so much.

Hey, even if it’s only for a moment, bringing you joy sets my heart ablaze. I don’t want you to be scared anymore. With me, you never have to be.

Think of it this way, it’ll be like we always talked about: we’re running away together! They were going to force you to marry that- that- other creature for diplomatic purposes. Now, we can be free! You can be free. With me!

Oh, I know it’s quite jarring, but I’ve been living in the wilderness for some time now. It’ll definitely be different than what you’re used to, but fear not! I’m here to watch over and care for the both of us. So, don’t you worry, Princess, your valiant steed is here!

I can’t wait to show you our new home. If I’m being honest, I’ve already started preparing for your arrival a long time ago. I added some decor, I cleaned the whole place, I adjusted the bed…

Of course you’ll have your own separate room, don’t be silly!

No, no, I just tripped, don’t worry. I’m usually very steady on my feet. A stable ride, if you know what I mean.

I mean… What were we talking about again?

Oh! Right! Our- your new home.

Like I said, everything’s already in place. They won’t be able to find you out here, so you don’t have to worry about anyone coming to look for us. Besides, I’d fight them off for trying to steal you back, only to throw you right back into that dungeon they call a room.

Don’t worry, Princess, there’s a separate bathroom, a study, and I even made you a library. I know how much you like to read, and I could spend hours just watching you do anything and everything your heart desires. I already do, so it’s not like that will be too much of a difference.

What I meant to say was: I enjoy spending time with you.

There, not so creepy now! I promise, I only want what’s best for you, and I swear your privacy is at the forefront of my mind. Of course, we’ll have to figure out the sleeping situation, there’s only the one bed-

No, no! I swear you have your own room!

No, Princess, I don’t sleep in hay. It’s actually quite itchy. I have a hollow for myself right beside-

You know what, I’ll just show you when we get there. I bet you’re tired. Why don’t you just try to relax, and I’ll wake you when we get home. Get some rest, I promise to never let you fall.

That’s it, My Beauty. Lay your head on my shoulder and wrap your arms around me. I’ve got you.

Oh, why thank you! My kind usually runs a little warmer than normal, and I always do my best to maintain my coat as best as I can. I won’t bore you with the intricate details, but you don’t have to be shy when you want to touch me, Princess. In fact, I will always welcome your touch.

It’s not like I dream about it constantly, or anything…

What was that? Oh, I was just saying how the forest is quite dreamy today. Perfect for a stroll through the bush. There’s actually this little clearing that I’d love to bring you to, sometime. It has so many of your favourite flowers, and I think the view might just take your breath away.

You’d be correct! That clearing is where all the wildflowers I bring you come from. There’s always so many, and in your favourite colours, too. I can’t wait to show you all the spots I’ve chosen for us to live together in, and to finally be able to experience one another to our fullest extent.

Emotionally, of course. What did you think I meant, Princess?

May I incur from the way your arms just tightened around me that your thoughts were not so pure for a moment there? And now, you’re burying your face into the side of my neck… Therefore, I must be right.

You don’t have to be embarrassed, Princess. Thoughts of any kind are always welcome here. Well, unless they’re self-deprecating, or of self-doubt, or you thinking of leaving me, or you not thinking you’re pretty enough, or you thinking of someone else other than me, or you thinking of returning home, or- Kidding!

But seriously, Princess, I don’t want you thinking anything negative about yourself, or doubting your decision to run away with me. As soon as you have any whispers of those kinds of thoughts, you let me know, and I will ease them from your mind, in any and every way possible. I’m here for you, always.

Just rely on me; I’m all that you need. All that you’ll ever need.

Why don’t you take that nap, now, Princess? There’s still a bit of a ways to go until we reach home.

It’s not that far from where you used to be held captive- I mean… your old home. Really, it’s much faster when I’m running, but no distance is too great for me to traverse in order to get to you. You’re worth it. You make it worth it. Every. Single. Time.

The risk of getting caught by traders, or poachers, or even by the guards was worth all the time we spent together. I got to know the wonderful person that is you, and you got to learn about me, too! I’m just sorry I kept my true self from you until today. I didn’t want to scare you.

You’re smart, though, Princess. I’m sure you figured it out a long time ago. Seeing is always more difficult that believing sometimes.

Really? You never wondered how my torso could so easily clear the garden wall?

…You always thought I was standing on something? Well, I suppose I was! My love for you!

There’s that giggle again. See, you’ll be just fine. Absolutely nothing to worry about when you’re with me. After all, I’m a big, strong breed of man, capable of pleasing My Princess in whatever ways she desires! Anything you want, anything at all, I will provide for you. We’re life partners, now!

Oh, well, I suppose that will mean something a bit different to you than it does to me. Fear not! I’ll have plenty of time to explain later. For now, rest.

Yes. That’s it. I’ve got you, My Princess. Just close your eyes, and let all your worries melt away. I’ll hold you close, guarding you with my very life.

I’ll have you know I take protecting you and making you the happiest person ever very seriously. There is nothing I desire more than seeing you smile, and knowing it’s because of me is simply the greatest feeling in the world. Other than you calling me yours.

Princess! Oh, how my heart flutters! Did you seriously fulfill one of my greatest wishes with such ease on a whim?

Nope, I don’t care if you were teasing me. No take backs!

You’re mine, and I’m yours. That’s all there is to it.

Well, I’m glad to hear you like the sound of that, for I speak nothing but the truth. I will always be yours, Princess, and you will always be mine. No doubt about it.

I’m serious though, you should get some rest. There’s still quite a ways to go.

You can try and hide it, but I know the sound of your voice when it’s heavy with exhaustion, Princess. Just close your eyes and let the sounds of the forest, and my own voice lull you to sleep. I’ll make sure to hold you tight; I won’t let you fall.

There you go… That’s it…

You never have to worry about a single thing while I’m around…

Just close your eyes, and rest…

Out like a light, just like I thought…

You know, Princess, you’re so pretty, even when you sleep. It’s such a different feeling having you in my arms rather than simply fantasizing about it all the time. The press of your body against my own… oh, how I’ve longed for this.

My desire for you is the greatest thing I’ve ever know. You’ve consumed me in the best of ways, and now, I’ll get to consume you. Never shall we be parted again. Those imbeciles will never have a chance to reclaim you. Not after we cross back into my own territory. Bet you didn’t know you’ve been talking with a Prince this whole time.

Your Prince.

Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? I certainly think so…

You and I, we’ll lead a peaceful life. I promise you that. You will never know pain, you will never know hardship. I will always look after you, and our home. I swear to you that I will do everything in my power to make you happy, to please you to the best of my abilities.

We’ll make it work. It may take some time, but I promise to have you screaming my name to the stars in no time. I’ve heard my tongue can work wonders, and not to mention my fingers… There are so many ways in which I’ve longed to please you, My Princess, that countless nights have been spent thinking about all the ways in which I can. You’ll be pleasantly surprised with the ideas I’ve come up with. At least, I think so.

I hope so.

Oh, how these hands have longed to hold you, to grip you tight and never let you go. My lips have longed to caress your body, singing you praises during every hour of the day. My body is yours, and I hope you will come to cherish me just as I have always cherished you.

No more watching and waiting from the sidelines. No more pining from behind a wall. No more barriers. Only you, me, and our happily ever after.

I will never let anything come between us. I swear to you I won’t, because now that I have you… I’m never letting you go again.”

#cultofdionysusnet #yandere yunho #yandere ateez #yandere kpop #yunho scenario #yunho smut #ateez scenario #ateez smut #kpop au #kpop smut #kpop scenario #centaur au #fantasy au #chubby reader

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captain039 · 8 months

Text

Lord and lady

Vampire lord Astarion x spawn!reader

Warnings: possessiveness, jealousy, gore, vampire things, eventual smut, swearing, hurt/comfort, sexual

Still haven’t played Baldurs gate three, I’m thriving on YouTube and tiktok videos without trying to spoil the whole thing xD also Gale? A precious baby but also out of body love making xD 😭

Hopefully I can really make red flags and evil Astarion (HAH)

(CHANGED TITLE)

You weren’t even sure why or when it happened, all you remember is cold throbbing and your world disappearing before you awoke. You were wrong though, changed, the sounds of the forest were horrible and loud, the sun felt like a fire burning you and you were so hungry. You’d gone home on instinct mind a craze for something you never thought you’d need, blood. You’d slaughtered your parents and drunk them dry, their blood flowed through your system and you finally came to reality. You’d been in shock horror, you had wailed out into the wooden house, trashed the place before going into a numbness and burying them. You ran from the village, took few things, you wanted to die out in the wilderness, only your hunger forced you to survive. You lived off rabbits, deer, whatever was unfortunate enough to cross your crazed being. Your clothes were ruined and you felt like a hermit, your hair was matted horribly and you looked like a skeleton. It’d been a hot day and you hid in a cave panting at thirst and the warmth, you felt like a rabid dog almost. You had no idea where you were, your backpack you once had was lost to the woods and your shoes and clothes were ruined. You jolted awake, senses on edge and alerted as you felt something close. Your hunger raged and you attacked whatever it was, praying for just a deer, problem was, it spoke. You bit down on its neck, power flooded your veins and your eyes went wide and you stumbled off whoever it was. You shuffled back before getting off the ground and ready to run.

“Stop!” You froze at the word and every single hair on your body stood up.

“Who are you?” He asked and you wondered why on earth he was talking to you.

“Nothing, monster! no one” your voice wasn’t yours almost, it felt wrong, hoarse. Your eyes twitched over the woods wanting to run, you heard critters in the night making you jolt and flinch.

“What’s your name, darling?” He said voice smooth as honey.

“Nothing” you shook your head flinching when he stepped closer, why hadn’t you run?

“Who on earth did this to you?” He said more asking himself as he circled you. Your mind flashed between brown hair, red eyes, strong body and sharp cold fangs.

“A master shouldn’t leave its spawn, the spawn should leave its master” he said huffing and you frowned.

You finally found the will to move your body and sprinted through the woods, you were too quick for yourself practically smacked into every tree before you fell to the ground in agony. You hadn’t been able to cry in a long time, you just laid in the bottom of the forest floor, listening to footsteps getting closed.

“I’ll help you” you heard as someone lifted you and your world went black.

You awoke with a jolt rolling off the overly comfortable surface, you hit the cold floor with a groan. Your mind eyes opened and you stared at the grey floor, where were you? The smells and sounds weren’t familiar.

“Darling?” You heard confused and turned snarling at them. The man from the forest stood there a silk black cape behind him, his chest on display from the extremely low v-neck he work, tight leather top with pants lined with red, black lace up boots, a black jewelled head piece around his forehead, disappearing into his white curls. He approached slowly and you quickly scrambled away and hit the back of the wall, your chest heaved and you couldn’t focus properly.

“Love, you need to calm down” he said and you groaned loudly. A burst of magic left you, knocking the vampire to the ground, a groan leaving his lips.

“Sire?” You heard come from the door.

“Don’t!” The vampire growled, but you had already got up and to run out the door. You knocked over who was at the door, you got lost in the big black castle, the occasional person looking at you confused. You were knocked to the ground though a body covering yours and fangs latching on your neck. You whimpered body going limp at the growl that filled your ears. You knew it was the vampire from the forest, he didn’t drink your blood though, he simply held you there like a wolfs jaw around a rabbits neck.

“Are you done?” He let go and whispered and you nodded hesitantly. You noticed others around you and closed your eyes hoping they’d disappear.

“Leave!” He snarled and hurried footsteps left. He hesitated but slowly lifted his body off yours. You lay limply though opening your eyes again.

“Up” he ordered and your body listened. You stood on shaky legs not looking to him, holding a hand over your neck feeling your blood before the wound healed quickly. You wiped your hands on your pants and tensed as the vampire moved behind you. You avoided looking at him as he stood in front of you.

“Tell me your name” he ordered and you hesitated.

“Y/n” you muttered the name foreign almost. He muttered your name and your body shuddered.

“Why’re you out in the forest living like an animal?” He asked.

“I’m a monster” you said fangs aching at the thought.

“You’re not a monster, you just haven’t been taught” you looked up as he said those words eyes wide.

“I know all vampires around here, who turned you?” He asked and you began to shake.

“I don’t know!” You cried as boots came into your view and a hand held your neck gently. You gasped looking to the vampire, his Ruby eyes stern.

“Open your mind to me” he whispered and you frowned, you didn’t know magic.

“I don’t know how to, I don’t know magic” you said shakily.

“You have it in you” he said as his thumb moved to your bottom lip. Your whole body lit up seeing his eyes intently looking at your lips. He frowned shaking his head slightly and letting your neck go, confusion in his eyes.

“Sire” you heard the voice from before and turned to the person. Another vampire stood there, a young woman, well she looked young.

“What is it?” He asked to the woman.

“There’s an issue requiring your attention” she pressed glancing to you briefly.

“I have issues already, deal with yourself” he snapped and she huffed.

“Syla” he warned and she gave a cold face before turning to leave.

“For a spawn she is defiant” the vampire behind you tsked, how many of them were here?

“How about a bath?” He said suddenly and you frowned at him.

“Kano!” He yelled and you flinched. A dwarf appeared, a human, a pissed look on his face.

“What you want?” He huffed.

“Please take our guest to the bathroom, get some of the ladies to help her” the vampire said.

“Apparently I’m needed” he sighed walking past you and the dwarf, disappearing down the hall.

“Who are you?” The drawf asked and you gulped.

“Y/n” you said.

“Kano” he introduced beginning to walk away.

“Come on then!” He called and you followed. You were confused from the halls and door before you reached a bathroom.

“Molly” Kano called and a black haired woman looked your way, a white dress on her body.

“Oh” she said surprised at you.

“What happened?” She asked looking to the dwarf.

“Our lord found her” he shrugged and she sighed shaking her head.

“Come let’s get you cleaned up” she smiled softly and you frowned, glancing at the dwarf as he left. She beckoned you over before running the bath.

Next part ->

#Astarion #Astarion x reader #x reader #vampires #vampire reader #vampire lord Astarion

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beskarandblasters · 1 year

Text

No One Else

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Summary: Din’s next bounty takes him to Sorgan. The two of you are running low on food and other supplies so Din heads back to the village he and Grogu visited where he runs into a familiar face.

Word count: 4.1k

Warnings: canon divergent (long live the Razor Crest), reader is able-bodied, takes place when Grogu is with Luke, italics indicate your thoughts, jealousy, angst, cursing, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, Din’s probably a little ooc in this but it’s fine, no use of y/n

This planet is so beautiful, you think to yourself.

Sorgan is a lush, forested swamp planet. It’s green and full of nature. It’s so untouched by civilization, too. Not that you mind, it means more time with Din, no one around to bother you. It’s not like that, though. You two started as a business relationship. You, a mechanic for the Razor Crest and he, a talented bounty hunter. Although, now you could call yourself friends. But it did take a while for you two to get there. He’s a professional after all. But for you that friendship has now turned into a one sided crush.

Not the time to dwell on my pathetic crush for him.

Din is hauling a bounty back to the Crest now. You’re walking ahead of him; his idea.

“That way you’re always in my sight.”

You force yourself to ignore how that made your heart flutter and cheeks heat up.

It took him a bit longer than normal to find this bounty, too. Since this planet is so lush with nature and sparsely populated. Again, not that you mind. But it means that you two are out of food, since the job took longer than expected. It’s not the end of the world. Din could probably hunt something for you guys out here in the abundant wilderness. Or you could just tough it out until you get back to Nevarro. Really, it’s not a big deal.

As you continue your trek you start to see the outline of the Crest amongst the trees.

“There’s the Crest!” you shout over your shoulder.

You arrive at the Crest and Din lowers the exit ramp. He heads inside to carbon-freeze the bounty.

You follow him in, “So I was thinking about the food situation and-”

“No need. I know exactly what to do. There’s a small village not too far from here.”

“Oh, okay. Have you been there before?”

“Yes, I spent a few weeks there right after I got Grogu. We stayed with a nice widow.”

A nice widow? Whatever she sounds like an older lady anyway.

Stop it. Stop thinking like that. He isn’t even yours and besides that was long before he met you. It might’ve not even been that serious. She could’ve just been a friend.

“Does that sound good?” he asks, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Sure, sounds nice,” you reply, putting on a smile to try to hide your slight jealousy.

“Great. After I take care of him we can head that way.”

You nod and decide to head back outside. You take in the nature around you and breathe, trying to calm yourself.

Why am I even getting jealous? I don’t know this lady. And it’s not like Din is one for physical attachments anyway.

You hear Din come down the ramp behind you.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Yes, sir,” you say back, giving him a playful salute.

“Stay in front of me again this time. I’ll direct you.”

You nod and he points where to start walking. He was right, it wasn't that far of a journey. The walk this time is more silent than normal, though. It’s not like you two were super chatty anyway and the silence between you two is normally comfortable silence. This time it wasn’t. It was a thick, tension filled silence. Maybe it’s because he’s just trying to focus on where he’s going.

Or maybe it’s because he can’t wait to see that woman again…

“What’s her name?” you ask, your thoughts suddenly vocalizing themselves.

He takes a moment to answer.

Not a great sign. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked? But if we’re going to meet her anyway I don’t get why her name would be off limits…

“Omera,” he says plainly.

You don’t really know what to say back so you just continue to let him direct you, trudging through the thick forest. You reach the village soon enough. It’s a cute little farming village, not super crowded. It looks like they farm krill, judging from the ponds surrounding the village. The people here live in circular huts and there are children playing together in the center of the village. It’s hard to believe Din spent a few weeks here, though. It doesn’t really seem like his scene.

As you two enter the village everyone stops and stares, of course. You’re used to that, though. Din turns heads wherever he goes. The children playing stop what they’re doing and run over to you guys.

“It’s the Mandalorian!!!”

“He’s back!!!”

“Does he have the baby with him!?!?”

More people start to look over now that there’s commotion. And now all of a sudden you’re surrounded. A woman with long dark hair emerges from the crowd and heads right over to Din, smiling at him. She’s beautiful, of course.

Oh Maker please don’t be her.

“You’re back,” she says, the smile still not fading from her face.

“I am. My friend and I stopped on your planet for a job. It took us a little longer than expected and we’re out of food,” he explains.

Well, at least he referred to me as a friend and not just his mechanic.

“Of course! You’re always welcome here anytime,” she says, reaching out and resting her hand on the side of his arm.

She still hasn’t acknowledged you.

“This is my friend by the way,” he replies, turning towards you.

The smile finally fades. “Nice to meet you.”

She probably didn’t mean that.

“I’m Omera,” she says curtly.

You tell her your name and thank her for welcoming you into the village. She says nothing and turns to take Din by the arm, leading the way. The crowd around you dissipates. You’re left to follow them, like a lost massiff.

She leads the way back to her hut where all three of you enter.

“I can cook us something. And we can leave you alone here to eat, of course. Oh and I have some spotchka as well.”

You notice that when she speaks she’s only looking at Din.

“Thank you. How is your daughter doing?”

“She’s quite well. I’m sure she’ll be here shortly now that you’re here. And how is the child? I was hoping you would’ve brought him with you.”

“I’ve returned him to his own kind. He’s doing good.”

You listen to them continue to talk as she cooks, feeling like a third wheel. After a short time, the food is ready and she puts it into four bowls. She grabs cups for spotchka, too.

“Well, now that the food’s ready we’ll leave you to it,” she says, handing you your bowl and cup, never really looking you in the eye.

“Thank you again, Omera. We really appreciate it.”

She leads you outside of the hut and you turn back and look at Din before exiting. Around the back side of the hut you two sit down to eat before being joined by her daughter.

“This is my daughter, Winta,” Omera says, still not looking directly at you.

“Nice to meet you!” Winta says, cheerfully.

You smile and tell her your name before returning to eat.

After enough silence you say, “I know he thanked you already, but I wanted to thank you myself, Omera. It’s really delicious.”

She nods, still not looking at you.

“How do you know the Mandalorian?” she asks, glancing at you for the first time.

Ha. She doesn’t know his name.

“We work together. I travel with him as a mechanic for his ship.”

“So you’re more like business partners?”

“I wouldn’t say just business partners. We’re friends, too.”

Her mouth forms into a flat line. She didn’t like that answer.

After what feels like forever, Din joins you outside.

“Did you enjoy your meal, Mando?” she asks looking up at him, the smile creeping back on to her face.

“I did. It was very good. Thank you.”

“Of course. Anything for you,” she replies, rising from the ground with the dishes in her hand. You and Winta stand up, too.

“I’ll clean up and be right back,” Omera says.

She walks around to the front of the hut and goes inside, leaving you, Din and Winta outside. The three of you walk to the front of the hut as well and Winta asks,

“Where’s the baby?”

“He’s with his own kind and he’s in training.”

“Oh… is it like a school?”

“Yeah, something like that. But don’t worry. He’s happy.”

For a man covered in metal and weapons, he’s surprisingly good with children. It warms your heart.

Omera returns from inside the hut and joins the three of you.

“So, how long willl you be here for?” she asks, looking up at him, eyes widening.

“I’m afraid not that long. We have to return back to Nevarro to complete our job.”

“Ah, I see. Well you’re always welcome here any time and however long you need. After what you did for the village, we are forever in your debt.”

“What happened?” you ask, unaware of this part of their history together.

“Mando here saved our village from a group of raiders a while back. He taught us how to defend ourselves. Without him we wouldn’t be living here anymore. And with that, we are forever in his debt.”

“I can’t take all the credit. Cara was a big help, too.”

Oh great another woman to worry about. Whatever, at least that one’s not here right now.

“You’re too humble. But please, won’t you stay at least one night?”

“I suppose one night wouldn’t hurt. We did have a long day.”

Your mouth falls open, in complete disbelief at what he’s saying right now.

Maybe he misses his time here. Maybe he’s thinking he made the wrong decision leaving here in the first place.

“Of course. You must be so tired. Let me take care of you.”

“Thank you. You’re too generous.”

She grabs his arm again and leads him back to her hut, leaving you to follow behind them again. It’s basically painful to watch them at this point.

“Actually…” you start, both of them turning around to face you.

“I think I’m just going to head back to the Crest. I’m not feeling too good,” you lie. Really you just wanted to go feel sorry for yourself in peace.

“Are you sure?” Din says, concern laced in his voice.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you reply, a little too quickly.

“Well, let me at least walk you back,”

“It’s fine. You don’t have to.”

“I really don’t mind-” he starts.

“She said she’s fine,” Omera cuts in, a smirk plastering her face.

“Yes it’s fine really, you two go on ahead,” you say looking at the ground, tears stinging your eyes.

Before either one of them could say anything else, you turn around and start walking out of the village. You don’t look back at them, continuing to stride through the outskirts of the village and into the forest. You don’t stop once as you power walk back to the Crest, just wanting to be alone already. You lower the exit ramp and drag yourself inside. The tears begin to flow and they don’t stop. You close the ramp and sit down, placing your head in your hands. The sadness and anger swells in your chest.

After letting yourself have your meltdown, you hop in the refresher and take time to calm down in there. When you’re done you have a glass of water. You’re not as hysterical as you were before but your heart still hurts and there’s still a pit in your stomach. You go up to the cockpit and sit, watching the sunset and thinking to yourself.

Maybe he’ll change his mind. Maybe he’ll realize how much he missed her. Maybe he’ll come back here and tell me he’s decided to stay, only leaving to drop me off back on Nevarro and he’ll come back here and live out his days with her. Maybe he’ll reunite with Grogu and they’ll be a happy family. Something he doesn’t see with me because all I am is a business partner, a coworker.

The sun is set now and the sky is filled with beautiful stars. At least there’s one nice thing about this planet since there’s not a lot of light pollution the sky is clear. Although now whenever you think of Sorgan instead of thinking about its beauty you’ll think about Omera and Din and how happy they must be together.

You hear the exit ramp to the Crest being lowered and the familiar sound of Din’s footsteps. You don’t turn to look at him.

“I thought you were spending the night,” you say sullenly.

“I was worried about you,” he says, coming up to the cockpit and sitting down, spinning his chair to face you.

“Don’t be.”

“Are you okay? You seemed off this afternoon.”

You hit him with the classic, “I’m fine.”

“You say you’re fine but I know that’s not true. Come on. Talk to me. What’s on your mind?”

You hesitate for a moment.

“...It’s dumb.”

“I’m sure it’s not. You can tell me anything.”

“This is going to sound so stupid but I was really jealous today in the village.”

“Of what?”

“...You and Omera.”

“Why? You and I aren’t together.”

Tears sting your eyes again. He doesn’t feel the same way.

Let’s just get this over with.

And the word vomit just spills out, “I know. I know we aren’t together. But that’s the thing; I wish we were. And I’m sorry if I made things weird for you now because I know we’re technically business partners so I get it if you want to drop me off back on Nevarro and look for a new mechanic or even stay here with Omera because the chemistry between you two is undeniable. I just couldn’t bear to be a third wheel anymore. It was too much for me to watch.”

You sigh, feeling a little relieved that this is finally off of your chest. But he’s silent and that can’t be a good sign.

“Come with me.”

“What?”

“Just come with me,” he says, grabbing your hand.

He leads you out of the cockpit and out of the crest into the forest. It’s just the two of you underneath the stars. He’s standing beside you, your hand still is his. His helmet is tilted up at the sky. You’re both silent for a moment before he speaks.

“She tried to remove my helmet,” he says, turning to face you now, his hand still holding yours.

“What?”

“When I was staying there for a few weeks. One day when I was telling her that I think Grogu should stay with her and the other children, she looked up at me and asked me to stay with her in the village. She tried to remove my helmet. But then she was stopped when a member of the guild tried to shoot Grogu from the forest. After that I decided it was best for him to be with me and I left.”

You don’t say anything. You’re shocked that he’s telling you this but you don’t know why he is either.

“You see, I don’t think she respected that I have a creed,” he continues.

“Well clearly if she tried to remove your helmet,” you say, a tinge of annoyance in your voice. Why is he telling you all of this?

“I think she saw it as a limitation, something that was keeping her from getting what she wanted… but with you I feel like I can be myself around you, with my creed and all. And you wouldn’t have known that about Omera. Maybe I should’ve told you about it before so you wouldn’t have gotten upset,” he says. There’s a softness in his voice.

“The reason why I’m telling you all of this is to reassure you. I know I haven’t been very expressive with how I feel but… I want you, cyar’ika. And maybe it’s wrong of me to only admit this after how upset you got. But maybe I just needed to hear that you had feelings for me first.”

Well, that was kind of messed up of him but he’s being so sincere right now that you can’t stop your heart from melting.

“But earlier today it looked like you were into her too…”

“I wasn’t trying to come off that way. I was just trying to be polite. Trust me. I want no one else but you, cyar’ika.”

“Is that Mando’a?”

“Yes… it means sweetheart.”

Your heart flutters. The toxic part of your brain almost wishes Omera was here right now to see this; to see how Din only wants you and no one else.

“If you’re still unsure maybe I could show you how I feel about you instead of telling you.”

Oh?? What does that mean?

“Is it okay if I cover your eyes?” he asks.

“Y-yes. Go ahead.”

He takes a step towards you and places a gloved hand over your eyes. You hear a low hissing sound. And the sound of breathing, unmodulated breathing.

His helmet is off. Holy shit. Holy shit. It’s happening.

And then it happens. He kisses you and it’s all you ever hoped it would be. You feel his facial hair against your face. You take in his scent. It’s just all so perfect.

“Can I touch you?”

“Of course, mesh’la.”

“Another Mando’a word?”

“It means beautiful,” he says softly.

It really can’t get any better than this.

Your hands caress each side of his face, trying to map it out. You could stay like this forever. The kiss is getting more and more passionate. You press your tongue against his lips to gain access to his mouth, which he gives you. But then he pulls back for a moment.

Shit. I fucked up.

“Did I do something wrong?” you ask meekly.

He gives you a quick kiss and smiles against your lips.

“No, cyar‘ika. But if we’re going to continue this further, I think I should put the helmet back on.”

“What do you mean?”

He pulls back and puts his helmet back on. You can hear the hiss and his modulated breathing. You open your eyes and look up at his visor. He steps forward again and places his hand at the waistband of your pants, tugging it lightly. The helmet dips toward your left ear and he says,

“Do you get what I mean now?” his voice dipping to a lower register.

Oh. It’s happening.

“Y-yes,” you squeak out.

“Is this okay?”

“Of course. But what if someone sees us?”

“You and I both know that no one’s around here and besides… who cares if someone sees?”

You nod and his hand dips down your pants and he cups your warm sex, rubbing small circles around your clit. You lean into him and close your eyes, already in absolute bliss. His pace picks up, as does your breathing. You’re already at the brink of orgasm when he says, “Are you going to cum like this for me, cyar’ika?”

That practically sends you over the edge. Your legs wobble a little bit and he places a strong arm around your back to keep you up, chuckling a little.

“That’s it, mesh’la. Ride it out for me.”

You finish riding out your orgasm against his hand. You look up at him and smile.

“Lay down on the ramp for me.”

You nod and do as you're told. You lay down against the ramp, the cool metal pressing against your back. Din grabs the waistband of your pants and slides them now. His fingers reach your core again and he slides two of them in. His fingers pumping in and out and then making a “come here” motion. Your breathing picks up even more than it did before and you close your eyes.

“Look at me,” he says.

You open your eyes to see the T shaped visor burning into you. You wonder what his expression is under there. His pace picks up and you feel yourself getting wetter, closer to completion. He senses this and presses even more against your G spot. You soak his glove completely. As you cum, you look at him, straight into the visor, falling in love even more as you do.

“Good girl,” he says, with that darker register again. “Are you ready for more?”

“Yes I am,” you reply, blissed out once again.

He pulls his hard cock out of his pants and it’s huge because of course it is. He lubricates himself with your wetness from his glove. You spread your legs open and he aligns himself with your entrance. It takes you a second to get used to how big he is. He’s basically splitting you apart, but in a good way.

“Let me know when you’re ready for me to move, cyar’ika.”

You nod and keep breathing, getting more adjusted to him.

“I’m ready,” you say.

He starts thrusting in and out of you. And it’s better than you ever could’ve possibly imagined. You close your eyes again out of reflexes and he says,

“Please, mesh’la, look at me. I want to look you in the eyes as you cum on my cock.”

“Y-yes, Din. ” you moan.

One of his hands comes up to caress your face. You look up at him and take it all in. His helmet looking down at you and the beautiful, star filled sky above the two of you. It’s all so perfect and something you’ll never ever forget.

He places your legs on his shoulders, the beskar touching the back of your legs. For some reason that sensation only adds to your arousal. And so does the new angle from this position. His thrusts are picking up now and his cock is hitting the perfect spot inside of you. You feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. You reach out your hand and caress the side of his helmet, where his cheek would be and breath out,

“I’m so close, Din.”

“Give it to me, mesh’la.”

And with that you’re orgasming. All of your muscles contract, sending tingly sensations all over your body. You feel yourself fluttering around Din’s cock and your vision goes blurry for a moment. This sent Din to the edge too because he asks,

“Where do you want me to finish, cyar’ika?”

Blissed out and coming down from immense pleasure, you reply, “Inside me, I don’t care.”

And he does. His warm spend paints your insides. You can’t believe that this is happening to you right now. Din Djarin is fucking you on the forest planet Sorgan underneath a blanket of stars and he’s filling you up with his cum.

He stays inside you for a moment and you ask,

“Is something wrong?”

“I just wanted to take a good look at you like this, underneath me and full of my cum.”

After another moment he slowly pulls out of you and collapses next to you on the ramp. You look over at him and he sighs,

“Do you believe me now, cyar’ika? That I want you and no one else?” he says, reaching out and brushing your hair behind your ear.

You smile and say, “How could I not after that?”

You lay your head on his chest and he wraps his arm around you, his hand coming up to stroke your hair, as you two admire the stars above. It can’t get any better than this.

End note: This is my first time writing anything NSFW so I hope you all enjoyed it!! Of course let me know what you think and let me know anything you’d like to see next from me.

#mandalorian x you #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x female reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #mandalorian fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #no use of y/n #the mandalorian #din djarin #pedro pascal characters #din djarin imagines #mandalorian imagine #star wars imagine #mandalorian x fem!reader #din djarin x fem!reader

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thewinchestah · 2 months

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Strawberry Fields (sonhei com campos de morango) - Alastor X Reader fic

Summary: On a dreadful night, Alastor goes to collect one of his contracts. Something goes terribly wrong. He finds you.

Warnings: fem!reader, Human!reader, smut, 18+, period sex, overstimulation, light cannibalism, blood, A LOT OF BLOOD, general creeppiness, Alastor is in hell for a reason, oral sex, alastor kind of hunts reader down, possessive!Alastor

A/N: Soooo!! This was a long time coming but here it is. This idea has been on my mind for a long time now and I wanted to test the waters before i commit to a long fic. I hope you guys like it, i'm kinda on the fence about it. I'm working on the requests and they should be out soon I PROMISEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. Also I got a little carried away, i'm sorry. Hope you guys enjoy it. It's always a pleasure to write for you. The visuals and the title for this fic are heavily inspire by this music video. Not the lyrics tho, i always felt like the singer did a poor job with this concept and i wanted to do it justice.

Taglist: @markster666@jyoongim@stygianoir @pepperycookie@fraspent @aether-th3-enby @lady-valtieri @karolinda007-blog @jesi-pinkman@polytheatrix If the tags aren’t working or you wanna be tagged, let me know.

You curse when another sharp stone cuts your feet.

You regret it a second later when you hear the ominous sounds that reverberate through the trees. They are closing in on you.

You don’t know how you got here, you just know now you are running for your life inside these woods now. The only guiding light, a full moon that looks weirdly otherworldly.

Adrenaline burns inside your bloodstream, the forest seems devoid of any living thing. It’s only you and whoever is chasing you. You wish you could hear gunshots, you wish you could hear screams. Anything besides the occasional twig snap or wind caressing the pine trees’ leaves. The eerie silence is deafening, and worse: the eerie silence makes you even more aware of your situation.

It’s incredible how everything gets clearer when you’re about to die.

Maybe you shouldn’t have traveled alone, maybe you shouldn’t have decided to go somewhere where the closest thing to civilization is the village’s old-yet-charming dinner.

You just wanted a little bit of quiet, a place that made introspection inviting. Next time you should go for a beach vacation.

Next time? why does next time sound so… far away? Somehow your feet carry you away from the forest’s well marked path and deeper into the thick vegetation, hiding behind a large tree. You gained a few minutes on them by taking a detour.

Breathe. Remember to breathe.

Right, your mind remembers. You’re being hunted down like prey in the creepy horror film woods, time to focus on surviving again. You can overthink later.

You assess your options: you can keep going into the woods, a deadly game of hide and seek. Zig-zag through the trees, keep them guessing. There’s a good chance you will find wildlife as you go deeper. This could be a problem, it’s too dark to make anything out, an encounter could cause enough of a distraction, you could take advantage of that. Or you could end up mauled. Plus, you are absolutely positive there are bear traps somewhere. If you're gonna die, make your death less dumb. Quite an embarrassing topic of discussion in the afterlife, saying that you died like horror film pretty girls making dumb decisions that you clearly would never make in a situation like that. You just know they are incredible hunters, you need to take them out of their element, expose them.

So yeah, going deeper isn't an option.

Something catches your eye, there’s a big opening in the thick vegetation, there’s a clearing ahead and… sparks? You definitely see a light. You were told by the locals how the population is scattered across acres and acres of practically untouched wilderness, there’s also the park’s rangers stationed on specific places that grant them a visual advantage in case of emergencies. A big clearing is perfect for that. Maybe, just maybe there’s hope.

Of course bolting there will make you terribly exposed, they will know your position all the time, and they can still hunt you hidden by the edge of the trail. Besides there’s no guarantee of what awaits you when you reach the promised land, they could have a partner waiting, there could be nothing at all there. Taking this risk for nothing sounds worse than being lured into a trap. You just have this gut feeling that’s where you should go. Your brain starts to pick the plan apart, this doesn’t sound good. Hesitation can be fatal. But you are all adrenaline and primal flight intistic -

The decision was made for you, you start running again. Taking advantage of the final stretch of cover you still have until you hit the trail again, you take several deep breaths. Oxygen needs to keep coming, so you can make decisions, so your limbs can respond quickly. Your peripheral catches something that’s also running. It’s a stag.

He’s also prey. He’s an omen. He’s your cue.

You leap across some fallen branches and your scratched feet land on the main trial. As soon as you complete your first step you hear movement and hurried voices. They are onto you. “What do we say to the good of death? Not today” you give yourself a pep-talk as you keep running. Maybe thinking this is all fiction will help you survive this, detach yourself from the situation, don’t think about the consequences, just act.

And like that, you don’t stop running. You sing your abcs to focus and stop spiraling. Evolution is truly amazing, the cuts you suffered don’t hurt anymore, precious shooting adrenaline, adrenaline that makes you tunnel vision towards your objective. By now you know where to step, when to dodge, when to slow down and when to go faster. Millennia of sheer force of survival catching up to you.

breathe, remember to breathe.

You inhale a good chunk of oxygen and look ahead. There’s a man on the edge of the tree line and a few meters left. Your mind wants to sing in victory, but you refrain from that, you know better than that it only ends when it’s over-

You’re positively sprinting towards the man right now, like he is your assured salvation. Something inside you screams louder and louder guiding you to him and you follow the sound.

You hear gunshots.

So noooooow they bring out the guns? That’s low.

But that’s a good thing right? If they are shooting they are getting out of time. A single gunshot can take you down and they can smoothly and swiftly carry you away, like it’s a normal hunt. No one will question shooting something they didn’t see getting shot so deep into these woods. But shooting a girl in front of a witness? that’s for amateurs right? So, the man is not a partner you decide.

remember to breathe, you are not breathing.

You are so close now, you see an outstretched hand coming your way only a few more steps

breathe.

You don’t, instead you leap towards your loosely established finish line and take the hand an-

Dirt greets your face as you fall face first into the trail, and you crawl like a zombie that just rose from its grave. You have a collection of new cuts and scrapes now, it hurts and you can’t bite your lip to suppress the pain. Still, you intertwine your fingers with his, your other arm aggressively seeking for leverage, clinging to your flesh lifeline. You blur out a bunch of incoherent things as he effortlessly lifts you up in one swift motion.

“Get behind me, my dear.” he asks. He has a weird voice almost like it leaves something in the air that caresses your skin, an inviting voice nonetheless. You hide yourself inside the crook of his arm, giving you the ability to witness just a little bit of the action there’s about to happen. You never let go of his hand. Your prince charming feels awfully cold.

Alastor waits, rather impatiently, for his clients to arrive. Making a deal with a human is his ticket topside and Hell is still terribly boring, even with the hotel. The Radio Demon was no stranger to contracts with humans, they were a win-win situation. Those who seek him always have a taste for the wicked and deranged, so it’s easy to figure out what they want and twist it for his own benefit. When they inevitably die, be it death by old age or death by occupational hazard, Alastor gets useful men from the moment they manifest in Hell. They always know exactly where they are and why, they are not confused sinners, petty crime or moral crime sinners. They are, most times, skilled killers who take no trouble doing Alastor’s bidding. An accomplished killer in life makes an even better prolific hellish soldier, someone who will continue indulging in their desires without the constraints of society, but eternally tied down by Alastor’s constraints. With the right incentive, they can rise in the ranks and become treasured resources for the overlord. Plus, the camaraderie isn’t all bad. Takes one to know one, they say.

However, humans these days are getting careless, sloppy. This entire display is proof of that, they should be over to kill and cover their tracks alone. The basics, for hell’s sake.

Alastor only takes care of the details. Tampering with some evidence here, getting a victim on the right place at the right time there. The occasional final encouragement to give into the darkness and finally kill, some advice. A self respecting killer should be able to kill and get away with it without the demon’s aid. He’s there for consulting and making sure there are no loose ends.

But never this. Having to intervene in the middle of a kill because his client made a very very big mess that screams “you’re getting caught!” is below him. Amateurs are not worth Alastor's time.

The two men approach the tree line, clearly worked up from the hunt and shocked to see him there. If Alastor is withholding a victim, something went very, very wrong.

“Good night my good fellows!” the greeting leaves his lips in an overly-chirpy tone. Is that static in his voice? Radio static? Is that what’s leaving goosebumps on your skin? The stress and the adrenaline are making you imagine things. You took the “pretend this is all a fantasy and you the main character” too seriously. Because now you are hiding behind Darth Vader’s skirts. That’s impossible, right? right?

“Great.” you can see the sarcasm dripping from one of your aggressors. “You’re here to watch?” the question asked all passive aggressive with an edgy tone. That’s definitely a teenager. What the fuck? you were being chased by a high school kid? This is ridiculous, utterly ridiculous, how can a teen pull this off? And you almost died? What? Your mind starts spirling.

Alastor ignores the son, is the father he cares about. They’ve known each other for years now, and he’s underperforming to say the least. He waits for the father to address him, it’s his mess after all. The older man gives his son a stern look and finally breaks the silence.

“Goodnight. We didn’t expect to see you here tonight, to be honest.’”

The second voice is much older. That doesn’t quiet your thoughts at all. Is this a cult initiation thing? Hunting girls down like they are prey? WHY DID YOU TRAVEL TO THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE IN THE FIRST PLACE??? OF COURSE THERE WOULD BE CULTS HERE, DUUUUH. IF I WAS IN A CULT THIS WOULD BE THE PERFECT PLACE TO HIDE. There are so many voices screaming inside your head now, you are shivering. With anger, anticipation, fear. Your inner monologue overrides your brain and you are not sure you can cope with everything that’s going on. The voices, all the voices, sound wrong. They land weirdly inside your ear and you need to think hard to understand the words, you know how crucial every piece of information is. They could make all the difference when you talk to the police. They could help a conviction when you are on the stand, giving your official statement. You are surviving this. You are going to watch these fuckers get life in prision or worse. You are surviving this right? There’s so much you haven’t thought through. Whose hand are you holding again?

“Oh please. Don’t act all coy now, it doesn’t suit you old friend” Alastor is starting to cross the line from nuisance to anger. He twirls his microphone in annoyance, and makes sure to sink it deep into the moist ground. “Let me remind you about the terms of our agreement. For each 2 kills you make, one soul is mine to take. Or am I wrong?”

“No. You aren’t”. The father answers through gritted teeth. “But I never thought you would want to collec-” Alastor tilts his head, his grin widens and he snaps “Never thought what? That I would claim what I am owed at my leisure? That I would stop waiting patiently for you, acting at your whim? You earned the privilege of killing unbothered by my vigilance. Because you always delivered your side of the bargain with excellence. I can revoke said privilege whenever I want. Especially after this pitiful performance.” The seasoned killer seems to slightly cower at Alastor’s words. Good. He always regarded the demon without fear or trepidation. His work was meticulous, spotless, basically perfect. And that gave him the justifiable confidence for going toe to toe with the Radio Demon during conversations, a bargaining chip during dealings of his contracts. Few could say that.

You feel nauseous. Reality is crashing down at you hard and fast. How many people have these people killed? They are trading lives like it is the stock market, and yet you can’t let go of your prince charming’s hand. There’s no rational thought to justify it, actually rational thought is also being slaughtered like a sacrificial lamb tonight, because despite the gigantic red flags you are not letting go of this man’s hands. Everything about him screams danger, everything about him screams your safety. He’s the type of paradoxical that messes with your primal senses, that makes a moth go to the lights that will kill it.

From the crook of his arm you finally gather the courage to open your eyes. You try to look up to your prince charming, but his face is concealed by the shadows of the night. Actually, everything of importance seems to be conveniently hidden from you. Your aggressor’s faces look distorted, recognizable traits melting together like watercolor painted by 100 shades of darkness, voices and words fuse together creating only cacophony. You hear things, you see things, but you can’t discern them. The three men keep going back and forth, but their conversation seems to dissipate into the air. Everything about this feels like a dream.

Of course you can’t register anything of importance. Alastor makes sure of it. You are a potential victim after all. A liability, capable of making a positive identification. It’s wishful thinking that someone would take your account of what’s happening on this dreadful night seriously.

Alastor has no shame in using the prejudices of your world to his advantage. If you were to tell, everyone would make the assumption that you are “just another hysterical woman, thinking too much about folktales”. You had too much to drink, partied too hard. Hallucinogens are a common party drug and this is the result of a bad trip. At worst, “someone tried to spike your drink, but nothing happened. You should be thankful, not getting in the way of important police work”. Alastor also knows that injustice is no real crime, and yet he decided to spare you. It doesn’t feel fair for you to perish in such crude ways, a practice run for a post pubescent, obnoxious serial killer in training. A precious thing like you should be honored, savored. In the odd chance that your voice was heard, the Radio Demon guarantees that no reliable information will come out of your mouth. His clients might be lacking, but in the dealmaking business your words are your worth and Alastor has a silvertongue. Surely that pretty mouth of yours won’t be a problem.

“I’m afraid I have to insist, my good friend. The pair of you caused enough damage already with these sloppy, impetuous spree killings. Your law enforcement is already on your scent, tracking the pattern and by the looks of it tonight’s mess will send quite a message. A message that I will have to make sure is delivered faultlessly. I will uphold my hand of the bargain, you will uphold yours. The girl will be spared. There’s plenty of prey out there, plus her death would only act as an aggravation, she’s not your type, and trust me, they will know you made a mistake, you will be exposed.” The Radio Demon’s patience is wearing thin. He shouldn’t have to justify his actions to humans. There’s no compromise to be found here, they went to him and the deal is always on his terms. You squeeze his hand really tight during the discussion of your scheduled demise, like a reminder that you are still there. Still afraid.

How cute. Alastor thinks. Your adrenaline is starting to wear off, dissipating into the cool forest breeze and opening space for a strong sense of false security, equally as inebriating. The smell of your sweet fear laced blood is unmistakable, assaulting your savior’s nostrils. Your knees buckle, and you struggle to keep yourself on your feet, clinging to prince charming’s hand for dear life. “Breathe darling, you are forgetting to breathe” He turns quickly towards you, his voice impossibly soft, shooting. You try to look up at charming’s face again, the only new discovery made is that he's awfully tall, and his face is still hidden by opaque darkness. You work really hard on breathing normally again, but you want to keep looking. Their faces are a monstrous distortion, vacant eyes that seem to cry blood. Your entire body tingles, you feel weird goosebumps. It takes all of your willpower to keep standing. You won’t lay yourself at their feat, defeated, like the corpse they would drag from these woods. But you just can’t keep looking, so you shut your eyes and grip the hand that has become your lifeline even tighter.

“You won’t even truly use the bitch, she’s no use for you” The entitled brat opens his mouth again. That’s the trigger.

The Radio Demon grows as tall as the native pine trees, his antlers furiously expanding and casting a shadow so dark over the two serial killers that the moon is completely obstructed. The only source of light in the forest now is the burning red dials of his eyes. The father sees the burning inferno of Alastor’s eyes and for the first time he is speechless. Maybe the realization of where destiny is sending him finally happens. The son sees raw, untamed power for the first time in his life and cowers like a scared puppy. Pathetic.

“Now let’s get something clear here. I’m only tolerating your insolence because of my decade long relationship with your father.” You shut your eyes harder, your eyelids a shield from whatever is about to happen. Foreboding making the forest air too thick for you to breathe. You finally break down and start crying, too fucking much. Alastor’s face meets the son on eye level. His teeth are bared, static picks up around the group to the point both men are struggling to breathe. A clawed hand traps the father’s face, a trail of blood dripping from the older serial killer’s cheek.“He’s as close to a professional as our kind gets. Shame the same thing can’t be said about you. This juvenile outburst does not make you more feared nor does it assert your dominance. It displays how weak you are, inept to succeed on this because you can’t keep your entitled demeanor in check. You are not owed anything in this lifestyle, if you want something you need to prove you’re worthy of it by taking it yourself. Whining like a petulant child won’t get you anywhere” You feel dizzy, the earth beneath your feet quakes, whoever, whatever is holding your hand is sheeting with rage so consuming the ground shakes with the intensity of their emotions.

Alastor’s attention is now focused on the father, the red inferno from his eyes making the man feel genuine fear for the first time in his long, violence-filled life. “Teach your spawn some manners and proper work, otherwise get him out of my sight. This was a courtesy. Fulfillment failings lead to contract termination, and contract termination means a lot of details appearing. You do not wish to make an enemy of me” Alastor delivers his last threat with a snarl. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up at the intensity of his words, you feel a powerful rush of wind, leaves ruffling, hurried steps and suddenly the world is at a standstill. The forest seems devoid of life excluding you, your mysterious prince charming and your two aggressors. All of your senses are assaulted with an overwhelming feeling of wrongness… darkness. Darkness that feels like the most luxurious silky dress on your skin, the most intense look of a passionate lover. It feels dangerously alluring and your will power is being gladly tempted by it.

You feel like you’ve been holding your breath for hours, the rollercoaster of adrenaline inducing hyperventilation and conscious calming breaths making your brain enter some sort of high. Is that what people felt after a battle in ancient times? Is that what It means to stare death in the face and come out victorious? You don’t understand what you are feeling, but when oxygen finally feels normal again, tall, dark and handsome is escorting you deeper into the woods and you don’t even care.

You’ve just slayed the dragon with your bare hands. You don’t care. You just want to bask on the feeling. To fucking feel. To remind yourself that you are still alive.

Alastor is drunk on something that he rarely indulges in. Desire. Pure, raw carnality that makes him antagonize one of his greatests clients. Someone Alastor awaited his inevitable death with anxiety and hopefulness, someone he could actually call more than a partner in crime when in hell. A friend. A friendship born from blood and gore but bathed in kinship and inexplicable understanding of one’s dark nature. And the Radio Demon almost killed the man and his useless spawn and fucked everything up because when he saw your running for your life something ignited inside him. When you squeezed his hand so tightly, with such abandon and trust, like he was an Angel sent from heaven to protect you when reality was the most wicked antonym.

Alastor spared you because you were prey. Beautiful, delicious prey that defied your destiny by accepting the nature of your condition. You didn’t dare to fight, you didn’t dare to think you could stand a chance against your hunters. You just fled. You fled and was perfectly lured into another trap, you doubled the bet when you held his hand and didn’t let go, serving all of your vulnerability on a silver platter to someone you deep down knew was way worse than any serial killer.

Prey, that will chew its own leg to get out of a trap. Prey, that will offer herself to the most ungodly creature around if it means she can survive a few more moments, just to spite those who started the chase. Prey, that now holds his hand completely carefree and all giggles while she is led to a much more final and insidious type of slaughter. Prey that he was now going to claim.

Your wounded feet start to land on soft squishy things, a familiar scent invades your nostris. From the scent of sweat, blood and gore now to the scent of juicy, plump strawberries.

“Hey, are we on a strawberry field?” it’s the first time you addressed him directly. You trail behind him, hurried steps crushing the strawberries on your way. You look up and for the first time you can see open skies. “You don’t need to worry my dear, you are perfectly safe now”

Are you?

You decide that he doesn’t sound like Darth Vader anymore, his voice is impossibly staticy, it prickles your skin and it feels like goosebumps that accompany butterflies on your stomach. He sounds like someone you would meet at a ball and have a cinderella moment with. The blanket of stars that illuminates the clearing you ferociously fought for grants you a better vision of his figure: scarlet red, snug tailcoat, perfectly tailored. Long legs and trousers that fit like skinny jeans. He dresses like the lead singer from a classic emo band. You can’t say you are complaining, you always loved the idea of a tall dark and handsome prince charming.

“So, you have some weird friends don’t you?” you ask him. You can hear him chuckle, it is a very pleasant sound. Suddenly the twirls you, a fucking disney princess’ musical number twirl, and you find yourself in front of very big bed.

With impeccable white sheets, you mind adds. Must be really hard to maintain white sheets in the middle of a strawberry field. Wait, what is a king size bed doing in the middle of th-

“Ah, I don’t really do friends, more like reluctant colleagues” bootleg brandon urie is the melancholic type, then.

Alastor finally takes a good look at you when you take your seat on the bed with a contented sigh. You look marvelous. Your hair is messy and wild, your cheeks and neck flushed red from the effort. Your eyes big and pliant, waiting for his answers. You look so human, so deliciously alive. He desperately wants to be the cause of your disarray, to make the blood rush to your face under his materfully wicked touch. To feel your pulse fluttering when he touches your neck.

You still can’t see all of him though. There’s stars, a big full moon whose light outstretches far, bathing the clearing in ethereal silver. The brightest lights cast the darkest shadows, your savior is always in the shadows.

By now you know he is purposefully hiding his identity from you, but you always liked a game. Plus you don’t really have anything to lose now, you just want to forget everything that happened to you tonight, you just want to inebriate yourself, and charming really looks like someone who could show you a good time.

Either that or you are having a psychotic break after enduring life threatening stress.

Anyway, you decide to bite. One possible psychotic murder, funny, charming murderer is better than two lukewarm ones.

“Do you always take random women to a creepy bed with impeccable white sheets in the middle of the woods or am I just special?” not a chuckle now, a laugh. A beautiful, full laugh. The residual static on your skin making you shiver.

Alastor completely understands what you are trying to do, and it’s truly hilarious. Your petulance and sarcasm towards him means to an end. You’re so precious, talking to him like this, thinking you could take him at his own game. What a beauty! Seeing you think you are succeeding in this only for him to take that conviction away from you at the last minute is going to be so entertaining. He wants you to dig your own grave, lay yourself at his feet.

He doesn’t indulge you, instead he takes a thick, silky strand of your hair and inhales deeply. You smell like sweet innocence and summer. It makes Alastor euphoric.

His head tilts down as he smells your hair. You don’t that’s creepy, it looks creepy, it sounds creepy, but you feel reverence in his action.

And then out of the shadows comes a revelation, you see his horns. You suspected his unhumanity, but the confirmation of it knocks the wind out of you. Your eyes widen, you simply cannot make sense of this night, everything feels too surreal and raw reality at the same time, it’s giving you whiplash.

“Are you the devil?” you ask him without much consideration of the weight of this question. You do your best to keep your voice from failing but it’s impossible. You never dropped his hand, in fact you feel like you are permanently attached to him, like a marble statue. Your fingers open and interlock again and again, reflecting your anxiety, but you don’t let go.

You can’t see it, but Alastor’s grin is as big as a cheshire cat’s.

“Do you seek the devil?” answering a question with a question. Smoke and mirrors. Alastor waits for you to answer, but you don’t. You don’t know what to answer, you try to contemplate if enganding further could mean eternal damnation, or if you are already damned. Is he going to make you an offer you can’t refuse? an offer you aren’t allowed to refuse? Alastor will blame it on lack of patience, but the fact is he can’t wait anymore to taste you, there’s a burning desire inside him, that only gets more and more ferocious as he tastes the inebriating smell of your fear blessing the air he breathes again.

He removes your interlocking fingers, his hand quickly trapping your tiny wrist inside. You hear heavy breathing.

“Or do you seek a taste of the forbidden fruit?” The demon licks the long cut across our open palm. His tongue is sensual and cold, the sensation of it slowly dragging across your wounded skin a soothing balm. You moan, he growls. “Forbidden fruit it is.” he announces, delivered like a sentence.

You are completely free of his touch for the first time since it all began, but it feels like you just suffered an enormous loss. You feel taunted, like someone just dangled a shiny new thing in front of you and took it away. It’s like your entire being has become tunnel vision and you need to get to the bottom of this, whatever this is. Consequences be damned.

You watch closely as your paranormal paramour moves towards the bed, he is completely concealed by the darkness. Darkness deep and palpable, he morphs within it. The visuals are beautiful, it looks like one of the art’s greatest masters is painting a watercolor in front of you. Darkness from absence of light floating and mixing with otherworldly opaque darkness, flowing like a river. You wonder if it would run through your fingers like water if you touch it.

Antlers. He has antlers, not horns.

The not-devil settles himself behind you, back against the headboard. He quickly maneuvers you onto his lap, grabbing you by the waist. You squeal in surprise as more of him touches you, now pressed flush against his hard chest you feel something you shouldn’t be feeling, nonetheless resistance is futile, you spread your legs giving him more access. He has barely touched you, and yet you are completely surrendered to him.

Alastor wasn’t joking when he established that a woman like you should be savored, slowly consumed so he can extract everything you have to offer. He knows your mind is exhausting itself trying to discern what is happening, how the body and the spirit get more susceptible to succumb to desire after surviving imminent death, and he intends to take full advantage of it. Alastor wants to see you writhe under his touch, pain and pleasure. He wants to torment you and make you pay for existing near him, for making him careless. For making him indulge in carnality and arousal. But mainly, he wants to punish you, because you battled so hard for your survival against them. When you should fear him.

The Radio Demon touches your neck, exactly where your pulse is, where he can feel your beating heart, full of life pulsing. Life that taunts him and seduces him. The thump thump thump of your heart beneath his fingers like a moth going directly to the light that will kill it. He holds your entire life, your entire existence under his clawed finger, it makes him delirious.

You feel a sharp sting on your neck, fangs that break your skin and spill your blood, red and ready for his taking. Holding your breath while he sucks the life out of you, your head swims, and you drown on the feelings. You feel pleasure, forbidden pleasure from having something hurting and feasting on you.

“If you are not the devil, are you a vampire?” It might be a dumb question, but it’s the logical one. Sometimes the obvious needs to be said. He laughs again, a full deep laugh,mockery dripping from it.

“Why? If I were a vampire would it make you feel better about spilling your blood for me?” he dodges the question again. Bait and switch. He’s feeding on you and you are enjoying it.. You don’t know what he is, you don’t know his name. It only spurs the burning desire in the pit on your stomach.

Alastor licks the entire length of your neck, his other hand applying light pressure on your pulse point. He bites down on you again, harder, going deeper. You roll your eyes and moan obscenely as he sucks on it. This is going to leave a mark for sure, but you don’t care, because whatever he’s doing to you feels delirious, it’s the best thing you’ve ever felt.

Your blood is dripping from Alastor’s lips, he licks it not wanting to waste a drop. He can taste your eagerness, your fear, your essence, your soul. The red liquid is solid proof of how alive and defenseless you are, completely at his mercy. You keep moaning and melting on his lap at his ministrations, a finger starts tracing your arm, feather light touch that leaves you shivering in anticipation.

He’s gently scratching, teasingly. It’s a claw, you realize. Another part of his unhumanity making you scared and deliciously trembling in anticipation. It’s Alastor’s turn to moan now, his clawed finger comes to torment your clothed nipple, he makes sure to do it tantalizing slow to give you just a taste of what it could be. He wants to hear you ask for it, beg even.

“I’m afraid I’m way worse than the Devil, little doe” his low, threatening tone makes you close your legs together and rub, desperately seeking friction, some relief.

“Re–really? You don’t sound that bad” A lie. You just want to say something back.

Your paramour laughs again, he takes your hand in his and starts making his way downwards.

“How precious are you, lying like that to me” He stops both of your hands on your lower belly, threatening to cross the point of no return. You squeal and struggle on a desperate attempt to raise your hips and get something more, anything.

Delighted in seeing you writhe this badly when he has not even properly touched you, Alastor squeezes your neck tighter, inflicting just enough pain and pressure to make you sing. The Radio Demon finally makes the decision and drops any pretense of moderation, hastily dropping the band of your panties and guiding your joined hands to your slit. “I can taste the fear in your blood, how your sense of pleasure has been forever skewed”.

The two digits tease your entrance that is coated with arousal and something more, his touch is masterful, like he knows the ways of the human body the same way a talented musician knows their way around an instrument. He makes you moan, he makes you sing with only the possibility of his actions. The idea of being taken by something unholy.

At last, Alastor finally enters your tight wet pussy, his finger guides yours as he undoes you in ways that should not be allowed. He pumps your cunt mercilessly, gone are the careful, calculated touches, he wants to make you crash and burn as quick as possible, he wants to make you understand that you crossed the most important line of your life. There’s no going back now, your pretty mortal body is forever tainted by unholiness, by his darkness.

“You spread yourself like this for me, a wanton little thing while I choke and feast on your blood”. Alastor curls the fingers inside you repeatedly making you move your hips in the maniac rhythm he has set. You ride your joined digits, moaning like a whore while your lover’s grip on your throat tightens and releases making your brain short circuits in pure unknown carnal feeling. “You are not the demure, feisty thing like you desperately tried to prove earlier. It only takes the slight touch of something forbidden to make you moan like a common whore” he adds another one of his huge fingers and starts scissoring inside you, the combination of two of his digits and your little one only adds insult to injury. You will never be able to replicate these ministrations, the feeling of being this full and stretched, you had a taste of the forbidden fruit, you are high on it and you will never get another hit on your own.

Alastor alternates between choking you and curling the fingers inside you, your lightheadedness combined with the assaulting pleasure making you feel feverishly delirious. Your body is hot from desire and adrenaline combined, a starking contrast to your mysterious lover’s touch, ice cold. The two of you distinct seasons, distinct stages of existence mixing together, life and death tethering each other, blurring the lines of worlds that shouldn’t exist together.

Orgasm building quickly, you grip the white sheets tighter and tighter and tighter but your fingers feel wet, you look down to see a mess of redness leaking from your core.

Oh fuck, you are on your period. You completely forgot about it. In normal circumstances you would feel mortified about being fingered like this while bleeding, but right now it makes things even more erotic, you’ve learned that your lover may not be a vampire, but he definitely has a thing for blood and something inside you ignites at the idea of letting him feast on your blood, eat you out while you bleed for him.

Your pussy flutters with the fantasy of that tongue working your pussy and with a particularly harsh pinch on your clit you are off. Waves of pleasure spread across your entire body like wildfire, he chokes you merciless making the urge to scream to the universe how fucking good you feel impossible. You want to scream his name, but you don’t know who he is, what he is. You just want more.

While you ride the waves of your orgasm unbothered Alastor takes the opportunity to take fingers from your pussy to his mouth, red with blood and slick with arousal, he moans audibly as he tastes you, the most intimate parts of you. Only a little bit of it inebriates him, this is better than 70% of what he does in Hell. This feels better than closing a new deal, watching the princess of Hell fail miserably at rehabilitating sinners. You taste so sweet, so alive and afraid. He’s hard with the conviction of how scared you are, of how he has permanently tainted something so innocent and pure. How you stupidly threw yourself to his mercy. Perishing at the hand of those serial killers is more merciful than him. And now you will know.

You must have babbled something while you came, about wanting to scream his name and not knowing it, because now you find yourself completely lying down, the bed feels soft like a cloud and you are sprawled like an angel, and he finally reveals something about him of his own volition.

“The name is Alastor, my dear. It has definitely been a pleasure meeting you.” Alastor, now you know, settles himself between your thighs and the pooling redness from your core. You feel him running his claws across the impossibly soft flesh of your inner thighs, you cover your face with your arm.

“Alastor I’ve never… No one has ever…” you trail off, you shouldn’t be embarrassed at this point, but nevertheless you feel your cheeks burning. Is he really going to eat your bloody pussy? fuck.

Alastor’s name on your lips sounds so soft, so pure. He wants to ruin it. He wants to destroy the careful constructed cognitive dissonance that makes you feel safe and comfortable around him. He wants you to be completely afraid and craving being scared of him, disrupting your sense of pleasure so he can ruin you completely, getting you hooked on him and delirious for more, willing to do anything for another taste of the forbidden fruit.

So, he makes you look.

“Look at me” you don’t want to. You feel a lot of things right now, but mainly you feel as if you really take a look at your dark lover tragedy is going to happen. Eros and psyche all over again, but bloodier.

He claws your thighs, you hiss at the delicious pain, but still disobey him.

“Look. At. Me” he snarls, definitely a threat. You feel yourself getting wetter.

Alastor slaps your ass, hard. He’s losing patience, his temper turning quick at the realization that you not knowing who he is isn’t a perfect plan.

You moan from the pain, from the sting. It feels wickedly erotic. You almost want him to hit you again. Since when pain felt so fucking good?

So you do, you finally look at him.

Red. The first thing that your brain fixates on is how much red there is. Scarlet red hair, red blood running down your core and staining the white sheets. Red claws that pierce your skin.

Red eyes. Burning red eyes that entrap you. It’s like you can see the blazing fire that tortures the damned inside those eyes.

If this is why people fall from grace, you totally understand the appeal now.

The second thing, the thing that makes you transfixed at the sight of him is how wrong he looks. His antlers are beautiful, growing from his scarlet hair beautifully adorning ears that look extremely soft, non-threatening, like a crown. His eyes are big and sharp, close together

while he stares at your soul, eyes of a predator in the middle of softness of prey. His grin is completely predatory, dangerous, sharp teeth that hurt and maul, but at the same time bite you just the right way to make you moan in raw carnality. The skin is pale, not in a michael-jackson-thriller-way but in an ethereal way. His voice is static that seems to tickle your skin, sometimes more than others. He’s paradoxical, everything you should be afraid of and the comfort you should seek at the same time. A force you shouldn’t meddle with. Primal and raw.

You may not know what exactly he is, but one thing is certain: he’s dangerously alluring, and you completely fell into his trap. But it hardly matters anymore, because he is about to drink blood from your pussy with that marvelous silvertongue of his.

“Fucking beautiful” you blur out, not realising he’s going to hear you.

One of Alastor’s eyebrows shoots up. He’s not regarded as beautiful often. Alluring, maybe.

He wants to make you pay for all the soft ideas you have about him.

You soon learn how hard it is to hold the gaze of your lover’s eyes, his burning red irises entrap you. It's impossible to look away but overwhelming to stare into.

“If all the mortal men you’ve been with are weak and pathetic enough to decline the dark gift of your bleeding cunt, then I’m honored to be your first” and without much more warning you feel a delicious cold tongue licking your entrance and you are off

Alastor isn’t eating you out, he’s feasting on you like you are his last chance of salvation. His face is completely buried deep in between your legs as his tongue assaults you at a merciless pace. He makes sure not to waste a drop of anything your gushing pussy gives him. His tongue enters you and the contrast between your tight heat and his coldness makes you delirious. Exquisite carnal pleasure, you could cum from it alone.

Alastor is having a hard time navigating this double edged knife: you don’t know who he is what is capable of, which means your aren’t near as scared of being this vulnerable with him as you should be, a literal cannibal delighting in your soft flesh, drinking the warmth of your sacred blood. You must taste delicious terrified. But the silver lining is that the fear he inspires would make any woman who knows more compliant to this, even offering this to him freely. You have no idea about his exploits, he can and he will tarnish you with all of his unholy darkness, wrecking your world during the eleventh hour when you realize what you’ve done, who you’ve so easily corrupted your morals and your spirit for. You’re so beautiful, so naive, so trusting, so alive. You moan “Alastor, Alastor, Alastor” soft ohhhs and aaaahs as he polishes your cunt, every sound you make, every twitch of your legs and roll of your lips reminding your ungodly lover of how delicate and rare you are, aiding him on his mission. Gripping the sheets isn’t enough anymore, you instinctively place your hands on his antlers, the texture indescribable. Again, the contradiction of the softness of his velvet and the sharpness of his teeth, wickedness of his tongue giving you whiplash. You start rubbing them furiously, trying to mirror his ministries on your swollen folds. It definitely is doing something to him because he drags his teeth along your inner tie, breaking more skin, drawing more blood, hissing. You scream at the heavenly pain mixed with unholy pleasure.

Normally, Alastor wouldn’t let anyone near his antlers, arguably the most sensitive part of his body. If worked right, the sensations take him to another level of desire, insane carnality. But you taste so sweet, rich blood mixed with erotic arousal on a soft flesh platter, he consumes your innocence as he coaxes another orgasm from you. You hold on to dear life on his antlers, his velvet shedding and bloodying your hands, running through adding to the painting of reds that connects you two. Something ignites on you and it’s the most intense orgasm of your life, you feel every nerve burning from everlasting fire, that transforms and transforms until it explodes in a supernova. You don’t have the strength to scream, so you whisper Alastor’s name like a filthy prayer.

He looks up grinning like a devil. Something makes you open your eyes as you ride out the waves of pleasure. There’s so much blood, blood dripping from his lips, blood on his nose, blood cascading down his bewitching face mixing in a flowing current of red, it ends in a glistening red pool where you meet each other in immoral sin, so inviting you could jump in. It’s like what would happen if the killers had caught you, but twisted into wicked, ungodly pleasure, it’s almost worse. Because well, if you’re killed you’d be dead and would never have experienced this, but now you have and the ephemerality of this night crashes on you and you feel conned, betrayed.

He licks his lips and stares right at you, a doe caught in the headlights of his eyes, you almost cum again.

Alastor feels delirious from the bloody mess in front of him, carnality so powerful it makes him insane, he needs to finish this. He needs to sink his cook deep into your slick cunt. Pushing himself up, he starts to position his cock on your entrance. He’s so tall, the shadows of his bloodied antlers cover you and hide the welcoming silver lighting of the moon. The stars look so different today, and the welcoming sight of a full moon looks merciless, devoid of warmth and hope.

“Women like you are not meant for mortal men. They cannot honor you, they cannot savor you, they cannot satisfy you. Once you take a bite of the forbidden fruit you understand your place. Pliant and submissive beneath me. To be ravished and tamed by something beyond puny mortality. You are made to me fucked, to be owned by the better man who defied destiny and transcended what the hands of fate enforced on him. You are Helen of Troy, tailor made to fit my cock, satisfy my thirst”

He teases your entrance with just the tip, making you greedly roll your hips towards him, a primal response to the ravishing words. Alastor laughs mockling at you attempt of getting him to fuck you on your terms, your time. You may not be aware of everything but by now you know you can’t outfox and fox on his own game.

“please. please. PLEASE” you scream the last word, you can’t take it anymore. A second without him touching your body feels like an eternity.

“Tsk. You look so pretty when you beg” the condescending compliment lands like music on your ears and he finally enters you. Inch after inch he spreads your tight walls open, practically breaking you. You understand now why people in times before yours had sex after battle. It’s the most rare and coveted feeling in existence, to greet imminent death, escape her fatal calling and then do the thing that undoubtedly proves you are alive. Only to meet her again at the finish line of carnal sensations and no rational thought. Primal need to feel, to live.

Alastor finally bottoms out with an animalistic growl, making your shiver under him. He fucks you at a merciless pace, he fucks you with haste, with urgency and abandon. He knows what he needs and he is going to take it.

“Hoooooly FUCK Alastor” you scream.

“There’s nothing holy here. Everything that’s holy has abandoned you. There’s only me, your wicked god who has you completely at his mercy, to fuck, to break” he takes it all out and enters you at once. You try so bad to look at him, to hold his piercing gaze with adamantine conviction but you can’t. It’s too much, overstimulation creeps on you and everything hurts. You shut your eyes.

“Look at me. Fucking look at me or I will stop” it’s not an order, it’s a threat. You should be scared, you feel scared, but tonight fear is diesel to your desire, and the pain makes you enter a mind numbing stage. The lines of torture and relief blurring together until you can’t discern a thing, you feel.

You do as you’re told. You look at him as he fucks you, thrusting like a mad man, obscene sounds reverberating throughout, you are being so loud you are sure they can hear you back on the village. The village, your cabin. You had a life before tonight. Will there be life after tonight?

You don’t have time to have an existential crisis because what Alastor does next gets your undivided attention.

“You will look at the demon who is ruining you, fucking you. You are no immaculate maiden anymore. You are a common whore for the Radio Demon” your eyes widen at the revelation. He is not a vampire, he’s not the devil. The fact that he is a demon and not satan makes you even more mortified, like you’ve settled for less. Just a little demon is what it takes to completely undo you.

Alastor keeps thrusting at a breakneck pace, feeling vindicated. He did exactly what he said he would do, he took the last fiber of comfort, of dignity away from you. He can see your entire world shattering on your beautiful doe eyes, making you finally feel the right amount of horror on the edge of a rapturous orgasm.

You feel true terror now, there was still a slimmer hope that he wasn’ evil incarnated, that he had a redeeming quality. After all, he saved you. Didn’t he save you? Or did you start something you are not even close to understanding? You feel terrified because there’s a demon fucking you, biting you, feasting on your blood and you fucking love it, you want it every night. You really took a bite from the forbidden fruit and ruined yourself.

“It’s too much, Alastor I can’t” the words leave your lips and feel like confession, like somehow if you admit your complete surrender it will absolve you of something.

“Too. Bad.” Alastor punctuates his point with delicious sharp trust after each word. He finally tainted you with his darkness and made you aware of it. He feels delirious, he feels like victory incarnated. Your moans grow louder and louder, now pleasure means pain, hell means rapture. Things that should not exist together making you feel the best you have ever felt. Tears spill from your eyes, the overstimulation something you’ve never felt before, mind numbing and life-altering.

In an act of paradoxical mercy, your demon lover rubs your clit and you’re out like a light. Your walls tighten around Alastor’s cock, and white hot pain, blinding red pleasure overcomes you. You feel like falling, you feel your literal fall from grace as your body tingles and burns with ineffable, forbidden pleasure. Alastor howls and cums inside you.

You land on silky, comfortable, alluring darkness.

The cool forest breeze greets your abused skin, it stings but feels soothing at the same time. Paradoxical, like everything from this night. Alastor holds you tight, cradling your head on his chest, petting your hair. He draws lazy circles on your hip bone, featherlight touch, careful and coy. You turn on your side to face him.

“Can you see it now? It’s beautiful, he’s so beautiful” your mind asks you. You agree.

You start giggling, laughing. It is also so funny.

“What’s so funny, little doe?” Alastor asks you, genuinely amused. He feels elated from this night. He feels satiated, contented. It’s a very rare feeling for him.

“For a while I seriously considered you are an alien” you tell him, you can’t contain your laughter now. You are so silly. Alastor’s eyebrow shoots up, quizzical. He chuckles and indulges you. “Alien, is so mundane. You could never be an Alien, it’s way too easy”. What your giddy minds means is that now you know Alastor is anything but easy, actually there’s nothing like him. He’s something else. Something entirely different, a delicious mystery that creeps inside your heart, haunts you forever.

You stop laughing when realization hits you.

“Will I ever see you again, Alastor?” you ask him, your voice failing, nothing more than a whisper. You feel the ephemerality of this night, you feel daylight closing, ruthless sun rising that ends this everlasting dream.

Alastor stares deeply into your eyes, he sees your wanton desire, your trepidant expectations. “That depends entirely on you, my dear doe. It’s time to make a decision.” his voice is so soft it fucking hurts.

You look at the fading moon on the horizon, the distant stars judge you, the earliest of birds sing for you.

Yet from those starts, no light but rather, darkness visible.

You open your eyes, you feel impossibly rested. Your bed feels soft and you want to visit dreamland again, but the noise stops you.

Songbirds and blazing sirens mix together a cacophony of urgency. You get up fast, trying to remember little bits and pieces of the crazy dream you had and run to the big window across the room.

You look down, you see ambulances, police cars, lab coats and tall guys in FBI jackets.

Something definitely happened here last night.

That explains it then, the nature of your murderous dreams. The sirens creeped their way into your subconscious making that murderous, dreadful dream. You take a quick look and your hands and see nothing. Perfect, unblemished skin.

It felt so real. Strawberry fields and blood.

Your neighbor from across the street gestures manically at you from her window.

Fuck, it must have been really bad. There’s a lot of people at your doorstep.

Hurrying to put your robe on, you fly down the stairs towards the bustling crowd outside.

You are dying to know what happened. You were always a vivid dreamer.

You reach the hall and open the door, a polite officer starts talking to you.

You don’t notice the old radio on your vanity, or the opaque darkness that followed you from the corner of your room to the world outside.

#alastor x reader #alastor x reader smut #alastor x you #alastor fanfic #hazbin hotel x reader #the radio demon x you #im insaneeeeeeeee #baixaria #im sorry everyone #alastor #the radio demon

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wandasmistress · 1 year

Text

Trapped

Requests (2)- A bottom!Natasha x Reader where Natasha and the reader are heading to a mission spot and while they’re in the quinjet R is eating out and fingering Natasha + Bottom!Natasha x reader where they have sex on a mission

Synopsis- Steve shouldn’t have tricked you into going on missions causing Natasha to miss you dearly, but once you’re back for good there is always time to make up for what was lost.

Pairings- Bottom!Natasha Romanoff x Top!Reader

Warnings- 18+ Content, and Steve?

Word Count- 4k

A/N- I’ve been really inactive for the past few months but I feel that I have got my motivation back to write so hopefully I can start to put out more stories :)

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Your body was exhausted to stay the least, it was a mistake for you to sign up for quick missions, a big mistake. The need to always be in non-stop action to rid yourself of growing daily boredom was prominent within you. You didn’t mind all that much because doing missions was something to keep you in check and present in reality, besides one other thing.

Because of that other thing which is a special someone that you dreaded leaving for missions. Each time boarding a quinjet or black decked-out SUV there would be a sorrowful presence looming at the door of the compound’s exit, Natasha.

When you weren’t on missions she was your constant light throughout your day because with her around you never got bored and always had a fire to keep you lit inside. When she left for a lengthy recon mission months prior you had to do something to keep you entertained for the time being. That happened to be quick missions Steve had encouraged you to sign up for when he saw your lack of life as you stared out the compound’s grand living room window that held a magnificent view of the surrounding wilderness that kept you entranced for the time being while your lover was away.

What Steve “forgot” to mention to you is that if you signed up for quick missions it would be official for eight months, let's just say you almost got into a fight with America’s most beloved. Once you signed with your signature you couldn’t take it back. At first, it was fine for the months when Natasha was gone, you had something to occupy and eat up your time, but when she came back it was a different story.

You still had four months left on your contract and time seemed to slow down significantly, so to Natasha, it felt like an eternity. Every time she saw you off a piece of her inner happiness chipped away while uncertainty replaced its spot. She was filled with tremendous dread and loneliness during all the nights she spent without you. She longed for your touch every second of the day and especially at night, she yearned for your company so bad it was absurd.

She had been pestering Steve about taking you off the quick missions but he ignored her advances and excused himself immediately so he wouldn’t receive her raft. Constantly following him around the compound to disrupt his day, in her eyes if she couldn’t get any sort of peace, why should he? During all the time she had been pestering Steve, it was the end of the eight months; she couldn’t have been more delighted. She was like a kid at a candy store, only a few feet taller, tapping her foot repeatedly against the pavement as she waited to hear the familiar buzz of the incoming quinjet.

Her deep red tresses swayed from the sudden gush of air, a dark shadow cast upon her from the monumental aircraft. The shadow was a stark contrast to the fierce light that was present in her from the thought of finally being able to have you fully.

Stepping off the mechanical quinjet for the first time in hours made you relieved to breathe in the fresh air, smelling blended natural fragrances and a familiar perfume that you knew all too well. It was in a flash and then the next moment you were bombarded with Natasha’s presence. It was hard for you to hug her back with your duffle bags still in your hands but you wasted no time in dropping them and enveloping her in your arms.

She clung onto you as a sloth does to a cecropia tree, her head buried deep in your chest as she took time to fully embrace your presence. You understood her actions because the last time you spent a full day together was two months ago, who knew how many small missions there were out there to be completed.

Natasha brought her head out of your chest and peered up at you. Taking in your wondrous features that she admired staring at during the brink of the night when the moonlight shined just perfectly on your dormant face. She would study you for hours until she fell asleep in your comforting hold with only the thought of you there with her lulling her to sleep.

“Take a picture Nat, it last longer.” You say softly to Natasha as your hands naturally travel towards her hips to hold onto them.

“Oh, shut up.” She lightly chuckled as she gave a gentle slap to your shoulder, “I would take a picture of you but it could never truly capture your beauty.” Her words made your cheeks heat up along with the way she was intensely staring at your face.

“I can tell you missed me because that was cheesy as fuck, but don't worry I forgive you for that cause I missed you too.” She rolled her eyes while letting out a breathy laugh at your response as her hands trailed up your abdomen and around your neck.

She came close to your face causing your breaths to merge, you could practically smell the minty freshness on the cusp of her breath, “But ‘Take a picture it last longer’ isn’t it?” Your mind was too hazed with the thought of her lips on yours to fully understand what she was saying. Leaning forward to catch her lips only for her to back away at the last second making a frown come to your face.

“Such a big baby, don’t worry you're gonna make it up to me with more than just kisses for your absence.” She teases you as she pecks the corners of your mouth then continues to give small kisses all around your face but never your lips which slightly agitates you.

Although, not more than Steve coming to interrupt your moment with Natasha. She instantly got annoyed as he rounded the corner. A glint of sweat can be spotted on his face meaning he ran twenty miles non-stop.

With a roll of her eyes, Natasha instantly stares down Steve as he walks up to you both, her arms now crossed over her rigid stomach.

Steve awkwardly greets the both of you with a skittish wave as he avoids Natasha’s fierce gaze.

You greet him back satisfactorily, putting your hand on the lower part of Nat’s back to wordlessly communicate with her to acknowledge Steve.

“Steve.” Natasha bluntly replies, showing no ounce of welcome in her tone.

“I hate to say this, but you both need to meet me in the debriefing room. Be there in the next ten minutes.” He says with a militant tone, fleeing towards the door of the compound straight after his assertion.

Natasha made a move to follow him but was stopped by the firm grip on her waist that held her back. When she turned around with lifted eyebrows she was met with your unimpressed face as you rolled your eyes at her abrasive antics.

“I’m off of those little pesky missions now, there's no need to hold any grudges. Help me put away my stuff, yeah?” You softly ask her, reducing your hold on her waist because you trusted her enough to not go after Steve to give him a mouthful.

She shook her head and gave you a small smirk, “Since when did you turn into a peacemaker?” She scoffs slightly in a mischievous manner as she starts striding off.

You give a light chuckle at her words but wrinkle your eyebrows in confusion at her retreating form, “You're not gonna help with my bags?”

She turns around while still strolling with a charming pout on her face and shouts, “My hands are kind of tired from all the stroking they have been doing since someone wasn’t here to do it for me!”

Your face runs cold as her coy pout turns into a naughty grin. You're stuck in a trance at her distant figure and you swear you can see her hips swaying more than they were a few seconds ago. You wasted no time in picking up your duffle bags and catching up with her, she always had a way with words that left you awestruck.

You and Natasha had just walked into the debriefing room Steve mentioned and the first thing your wondering eyes spotted was the brown box of your favorite, Dough Doughnuts. Treading straight towards the box of donuts as if your life depended on it; grabbing a plate from the table where the donuts were held to stack some of the pastries.

Helping yourself to multiple thick and doughy donuts put a bright smile on your face, “Help yourself, I got them for you, out of guilt.” Steve murmurs next to you rendering you to jump from the sudden surprise, managing to save your plateful of donuts as you turn towards him with a warm smile on your face.

You thank him genuinely, “although this won’t be enough for me to fully forgive you.” Your words cause him to take in a deep breath as you send him a shallow smile as you move around him and make your way to Natasha sitting at the immense oak oval table.

As you come closer to Nat she makes eye contact with you, her eyes broadening at your approaching figure. When you made it over she raised her right eyebrow as she eyed your plate stacked with donuts. By that time you had already started eating them on the walk over so when you spoke your mouth was full of mushed donuts.

“What? The last time I ate was hours ago.” You reasoned.

Natasha’s resting smirk only grew as she replied, “moya malen'kaya rybka fugu ”

You playfully narrowed your eyes as you took a seat behind her, quickly flashing your mouth full of mixed donuts only for her to swiftly pinch your stomach with a twisted grimace. Quietly chuckling to yourself as you got seated; Steve cleared his throat for both of your attention.

Just as he got attention to start speaking Natasha kicked up her feet on the deep oak conference table with a loud thud followed by a displeased sigh. You had to look away for a moment to contain your laughter, you had yet to ever see her be this petty towards Steve.

“I just wanted to start this meeting to say I never meant to have you sign up for the missions but no one else wanted to, and god knows the shield agents aren’t prepared enough for constant tasks like that. Leading to the point of this gathering, which is a final mission for you both.”

Natasha’s face turned into a passive expression that only Steve could see from his angle; a slight hesitation in his speech from the direct eye contact Natasha had with him.

“Don’t flip your lid Nat, this is a recon mission that should take less than a week. More of a getaway if you ask me, it’s in Madrid, I searched on that engine Googlet and their beaches are said to be nice during this time. The mission file is on the table, have fun ladies.” He declared before he left the room with a clasp of his hands.

There was a few seconds of brief silence until Natasha turned around in the twisty chair with her signature smirk ingrained on her face. She slowly arose from her position in her seat to saunter a few steps and rest herself on your awaiting lap.

In between the mid-bite of a donut, you stared deep into her eyes, slowly moving the pastry away from your face to deliver a soft peck to her nose. Her face scrunching up in mock disgust as she pinched you on the cheek complaining about the sticky filling that now occupied her nose.

You couldn’t help but not take her words into account as you zoned her words out to only focus on the accentuating features that reeled you into her as a fisherman does to fish. The only thought on your mind was her ethereal beauty, not only did her outer beauty look so magnificent, her inner beauty was millions of times better. Cherishing the moments when her relaxed personality came out because of your presence; the way her face seemed to light up when you were near, and the way you found solace in her viridescent irises.

You were standing in the cockpit, leveling the controls of the quinjet to kickstart the autopilot mode so you could catch up on some sleep that you dearly missed. As you were focused on turning on the alarm to notice another aircraft in the air, turning on the radar, and checking safety controls caused you to fail to notice the slim figure approaching from behind.

Nat takes this moment why you are in mental solitude to absorb your features; your concentrated face making a knot deep within her start to ache. The way your hands are flexed across the controls, moving in practiced synchronization as if you could do it perfectly with your eyes closed. Also, the small barely noticeable scars littered across your arms and hands that she knows all the stories to you, courtesy of you telling them to her in the deepest of the night as her head lay on your bare chest when sleepiness was absent.

She came up behind you while you were slightly leaning on the controls, encircling her hands around your stomach, laying her cheek across the side of your back as she watched the view of the endless clouds. This is where she loved to be, anywhere with you, no matter the place.

When you felt her hands on your abdomen a sense of warmness spread throughout your body at just her touch; what she could make you feel in just a matter of seconds was a feeling you always loved.

There was a few moments of sereness that passed by before her face shifted away from the clear window to face your back.

“I really missed this.”

You let out a small chuckle, pivoting your head scarcely to the left so you could see her out of the corner of your eye. “I never knew you were so needy, babe.”

She slaps your back with her right arm at your tease which causes you to tremble away from her grip but eventually turn towards her, leaning back on the controls now so you were face to face.

“Well you have been away to satisfy my needs, and I can only do so much.” She expressed softly with a playful angry expression on her face as she stands on her toes to connect both your lips once and for all.

The laughter within your stomach automatically ceases as her plump lips come in contact with yours, being substituted with a desire. Your hands were quick to move up to her hips and gradually down to her plump bottom, giving a gentle squeezing.

A soft moan discharged from her closed throat at the pressure that was so close to where she needed you to be. Her lips miraculously worked with yours in an erotic dance as the force of the kisses made each of your heads move back and forth. Her hands unhurriedly came up to your firm stomach for balance, her hands skimming over your clothed breast which made a groan escape between your parted lips as you came out of the kiss for air.

No words were uttered as you wordlessly looked into her eyes for the next few seconds, her dilated pupils and the salacious look that resounded within her darkening orbs made you dive in for more of what you so badly dreamed for.

Your hands left the position on her lower half to quickly cup her face and bring her closer while her soft tongue pressed against the entrance of your lips for admission to your tongue. Bestowing her access by parting your lips, your tongues clashed together in simultaneous congruence. A deprived moan came from the pit of her throat from the way your mouth deliciously sucked on her tongue. That eruption from deep within her vocal cords was the moment something clicked on inside of you to grant her real satisfaction.

You swiftly picked her up by the rear and carelessly sat her down on top of the controls, damn the quinjet because if you go down this would be a gratifying last moment of your life. While still retaining a steady pace of indulging in Natasha’s succulent lips, your hurried hands tugged at the hem of her leggings. She snickered as she caught onto your intentions and lifted her bottom so you could quickly pull her lower garments off.

Greedy fingers instantly met Natasha’s clothed cunt moments after her leggings had been moved and forgotten by her ankles. You took your middle and pointer fingers together and rubbed them against her clothed protruding clit. Provoking a loud moan from her; your breaths integrating from the brisk withdrawal by both of your damp lips. Her right hand presently snaked up the back of your neck while her left hand rested on your shoulder; making eye contact with her as you devoted more pressure on her clothed clit, her pupil now a tiny black speck in the sea of inveigle basil green.

Her eyes squeezed shut as they rolled back while her mouth hung open and twitched from the constant motion happening right where she needed you to be, her head inclining forward as you pressed harder. Your sweaty foreheads came together for only a moment until you shifted your head to start sending temperate but firm kisses along her face and later neck.

You had enough of taunting her, wanting to feel her needy opening sucking up your digits. Impatiently pushing aside her lacey panties as you were met with a beyond moist sticky cunt; quick to find her clit and begin irritating it for more pressure.

Natasha’s celestial moans and faltering sighs filled the quinjet's advanced space, luckily it was just you two, or else things would have been inconvenient. Although your fingers did not just stop at rubbing her clit, too eager you wait not one more second and plunged them straight into her opening. A coarse protracted whine came from her hushed mouth, as her face rested on your shoulder she took the opportunity to bite down to help with the influx of pleasure she acquired in such little time.

This didn’t deter you as you only started to pump your digits quicker, the only sound echoing throughout the aircraft was your low grunts now and then, Natasha’s moans that began to sound more like yearning cries, and her pussy making various squelching noises that rang like music to your ears as you continued to hammer into her.

It didn’t take long before that tight knot within her stomach that had been itching badly inside of her, in demand to be undone, finally erupted. When that knot flared deep in the pit of Natasha’s stomach that’s when a real guttural whine escaped from her lips. You knew she was quite the verbal person in intimate situations like this, but the moan that was unleashed from her sounded extra-terrestrial, an almost jarring roar that was brought out from a hidden place inside her.

You weren’t close to being done yet, the second you remove your fingers from her center a tired objection came from her heavy breathing mouth. Her muddled head leaned back until her heavy eyes looked upon your face, her creased eyebrows hinted to her examining your sudden action to stop. Before she could let out a weak protest you stuck your soaked fingers that had just been buried inside her past her plump lips and flat onto her unexpectant tongue.

She sucked her juices from your fingers slowly in a seductive manner as she kept eye contact with you; your knot within starting to beg for release just from the way her pristine lips grasped around your digits and slowly slid down the expanse of your fingers. When she popped the fingers out of her mouth you immediately brought them up to your lips to get a taste, unknowingly to you Nat’s eyes hazily watching the movement of your hands and the way you searched for any leftover taste of her on your fingers only for it all to be gone.

In a matter of seconds, your lips instantly met Natasha’s again, causing a groan to leave her from the force of roughness. In your little plan, you had found what you were looking for, but there was still some leftover taste of Nat scattered on her tongue. A deep moan set free from her drowsy self at the feeling of you sucking her tongue harshly. She brought her head away from yours slowly, a string of mixed saliva drooping between your faces as both your lustful eyes stared deep into one another's souls.

“There’s more where that came from.” She uttered in a husky voice.

After dispatching another quick peck to her lips, you sank to the ground in an instant. Your knees collided against the hard steel just as Natasha had spread her legs open, wide enough for you to have full sight of her exalted pussy that could never be replicated. Natasha took her bottom lip in between her teeth and smirked from the way you were taking time to adore her bare cunt as if she hadn’t told you to continue the vulgar actions that you were performing moments earlier.

It didn’t take you any longer to get back into the swing of things as your face merged into her sodden cunt, her thighs encompassing your head as her radiant smell plagued your sense as you took a deep breath in. Sticking your deprived tongue out from behind your lips that were submerged in her center, licking an elongated vertical line up her center. Her shivering that knocked you off your course made you resort to wrapping your hands around her outer thighs to keep her in place, talking into her pussy which sent a thundered hum attack her clit which stimulated her so much that she bucked and whined like a lost wolf that has strayed from its pack.

Her body shuddered from your attempted talking inducing numerous buttons on the control deck to be pressed while some switches flicked on and off. Your grip on her thighs constricted to ensure she changed no controls that would cause the quinjet to plummet to the ground instantaneously. Even with a slight chance of crashing, you stretched your hungry tongue past her entrance, and as deep as your face would let you without suffocating, making this another satisfying moment to go out.

Your tongue wriggled back and forth inside of Natasha, numerous times pressing on the bundle of nerves that made her go crazy each time you hit it just right. Natasha needed something to hold onto as the knot in her came undone even more each second, her pale fingers sliding in between your locks and barring onto the roots. You hissed slightly from the tugging she would do every few seconds from hitting her g-spot now and then. That didn’t hold you back from going deeper as her taste was so addicting, her juices being like holy ale sent down from above just for you only, sacred nectar that could never be found anywhere on the earth no matter how hard you searched.

Ultimately getting lost in the tempo and taste of Natasha brought her to another orgasm that struck her harder than last time tenfold, you were always so proficient with your tongue that she could never get enough. This time no sound was emitted from her opened mouth, only a sound of strangulation as she failed to take in air. Her tense chest heaved in and out as she got a hold of her breath but was still moments into seeing the stars. That was all muffled for you because she had you interlocked tightly within her pale plush thighs, her juices drenching your face as her cum oozed out from within her. You were entrapped, and truthfully, you don’t think you want to leave just yet.

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sashi-ya · 1 year

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𝕰𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖙𝖞 𝖑𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖘 𝖔𝖓𝖑𝖞 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖆 𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖚𝖙𝖊 +18. Aizen Sōsuke x F! Reader

✦ requested by Anonymous for the free requests ➜ heyyy sashi^^ maybe some stuff about aizen, especially muken version? ➜ Of course! he is such an amazing character to me, the way he is written is pure poetry. I hope you enjoy this fic ♡ ✦ tw: playing with your mind. mouth restriction. bondage. suspension. violence (aizen pushes reader to the ground). fingering. vaginal penetration. deep mind fuck and feelings exposed. ✦ wc: 2.9k

“(Name)-san… I have to ask you to keep this in between you and I” Kyoraku Shunsui, General Captain of the Gotei 13 requests you with a serious tone.

“I’m not telling this to anyone, Kyoraku Soo Taicho. I’m extremely grateful for what you are allowing us to do, and I will never betray your trust” you say, bowing before the laid-back captain.

“Heh…betrayal is not a proper word to use in this particular case. But what’s fair is fair. However, kid, I must warn you… and forgive me for repeating this to you, but please be careful… Sosuke Aizen is the spawn of Hell”

The mustiness and the darkness of Muken hits you once the ten thousand locks let the doors open. They say this is worse than hell, and they are right. It’s endless. It’s dark, cold, humid, lonely. The sadness creeps through your bones. It whispers the inevitable destiny of going against the rules some have stated as fair.

But, you were a revolutionary. And so it was him. You always saw that man like the one who dared to break the pattern, the endless inhibitions, and the path of those he called losers. Aizen didn’t want to be mediocre… winners don’t ask how the world is, but how it should be…

Yet, he forgot that even gods have weaknesses. Solitude and love. There is, still, no higher being able to scape the unstoppable force of their own human nature, the heart that he thought he lost and the need for your skin… oh so sacred velvety flesh that once felt so soft on his palm, against his body melting with yours.

“Aizen-sama…” you whisper, in pure darkness. Kyoraku Taicho has already left -or perhaps it’s what you wish he did-.

Lights turn on, like the stelas that guide even the blindest person, on each side of an immeasurable scaffold. He is there, hanging, vertically. As if he had been crucified, like the God of some humans in the world of the living.

You can’t see his face; it’s covered in black ties. His arms, his wrists. There is no single showing of that skin you miss so much. Where have the sweet captain of squared glasses gone? Was that just a total façade, or maybe, in all that innocent play was at least a hint of his inner self?

“(Name)… why are you here?” he asks. You are sure he isn’t talking with his mouth. That’s most probably Kyoka Suigetsu helping him do it.

You gasp. Why is he asking? Isn’t he intelligent enough to understand the reason why you are here?

“Sosuke… I was allowed to visit you for what you have done for the Soul Society” you whisper, it’s enough for him to hear. “I couldn’t help it… I’m sorry”

You mourn in the silence he explicitly chooses to surround you with. The purple gaze of the lights that barely kisses his restricted face feels not enough to avoid you from shivering. You aren’t scared of him, you are scared of the immensity and wilderness this place has. Is this really necessary? He betrayed them, sure but… He helped them, right?

“You are thinking of how unfair this place is, right (Name)-san? You are mad because you believe I shouldn’t be in here… but, it’s just twenty thousand years… I’m immortal, you know that” he calmly informs you, as if you didn’t know… As if it wasn’t exactly the infinite pain that that brings you daily.

You fall down your knees. Your mind can only focus on that number. Stop repeating it, Aizen!

“Stand up. I can’t tolerate to see you kneeling that way” he scolds you.

“Aren’t you a God, Aizen-sama? Shouldn’t I pay you entirely and exclusively respect to such a higher being?” you ask. Was it really what you thought? Yes. Indeed, it was.

Your mind goes blank for some seconds. You don’t know exactly when it happened, but, you see Aizen breaking with his strong hands the seals that prevent him from scaping.

You gasp, in awe.

“Why are you here, exactly? Did I ever ask you to become some kind of devotee? Which God stands on top of the rests while being restricted and stopped from changing this unfair world?”

Was that Aizen just mourning about his current state?

He comes closer to you, so close that you can see the tip of his boots with clarity. They told you being even near him without at least one of the seals will make your soul body explode in a million pieces… but you aren’t exploding, much less can feel any reiatsu around.

Aizen’s gloved hand reaches for your chin, and with his index he delicately makes you look up at him. “Tell me, (Name)-san… are you that in love with the death?” he asks… Is he the Death?

Your pupils dilate, as big as the hollow that hold the hogyoku in the middle of his chest. “I adore you, Aizen-sama. I’d wait for you and even die for you” you tell him. You know, better than anyone that your life means nothing to him. He has never asked you to die for him.

Aizen caresses your cheek. His eyes look at you like an inferior creature, feeling pity for such an ignorant being driven by love… Oh, but how hypocritical he can be. Him, who had fused his existence with something that expresses the true desires of the heart. Didn’t he know that?

“Let me ask you again, why you waste your time in here? Waiting for me? I’m immortal, you aren’t. Are you that dumb?” Aizen inquires, helping you stand up.

You scoff. You have never laughed at him. You wouldn’t dare… but, this time… “Aizen-sama… you are still so naïve… you, a genius still can’t understand the most basic and yet beautiful feeling in this and all the worlds… Love”

It’s clear that you have offended him. How dare you call him naïve? How dare you doubt of his intelligence?

He pushes you back to the floor. His right eyebrow lifted; his chocolate brown eyes infused with desperation. He is not mad, he is just scared, like a little animal that’s been caged… you have exposed the only trait that still makes him human, the one he tries to reject, to deny from his own self… the one the who can’t recant of.

“Love? Do you think I am capable of loving? That’s the lowest form of humanity, and I’m not a human. Stop your daydream, (Name). You should get away, and never come back. Go live your live with someone. Experience what you call love with someone capable of” Aizen orders, but in reality cries.

You, who are now sitting on that cold floor, with your hands scrapped and your body like floating, smile kindly. “If you are incapable of love… why, then, are you asking me to leave? To live my life with someone else?”

He takes some time to think. Looking up and down at you, with his chin lifted and his head slightly tilted to the side. “Because you wanna be happy, there is no happiness in here…” he whispers.

This time your beam grows bigger. It’s all you needed to listen. He is, indeed, capable of loving you. “You want me to be happy, because you… care about me, Aizen-sama… and that’s called love”

How much he would have loved to contradict you. To go on a deepest raid of logical thinking, to debunk the basic thought that lead you to believe it’s that simple… but, indeed, even for him… it was so simple.

Aizen took the patch that covered up until now his right eye. The white cape over his shoulders ripped in a violent swing. The black, heavy coverings sealing him ended up in the floor and it seems to evaporate with the darkness around. There is nothing but pure infinite around a little spot of light that cover you two with its cold mantle.

His skin, oh… his skin pale and with the eternal marks of strong devices carved to stop his limitless power presented right before your eyes. Those same eyes that got flooded endless nights with tears, remembering the way it felt to watch him sleep right next to you...

His hair, dishevelled that has grown a little longer and now covers his nape. His lips, semi open, letting haste breathe come out of his mouth. His eyes, injected in fear and need, and pain and regret and pride, and every human passion…

“Come here, (Name)” he calls you, with his hand stretched to you. Those fingers that were once coated with your arousal are now calling you to touch them.

The god of death luring you to his grave. Oh, the deadly lust that could kill you. Oh, the deadly need that could destroy you.

Don’t touch Aizen. Don’t get any closer, they said. He could kill you if you dared to take a further step more than what it’s needed, they warned you.

But he needs me. Me. Only me. But he is so alone… he begs, he yearns, he cries for my touch. For mine, just mine.

“Come (Name)” “Yes, Aizen-sama…”

The grazing touch, the bare caress of your fingertips against his. Everything becoming dark again. A blink of an eye, and you are a few centimetres off the ground. Red seals have been carved on your chest and are holding you against a wall where he was. You can’t speak. There are black strands of heavy material covering your mouth, sealing your lips. A single tear runs through your cheek. Is this it? How is he even capable of doing this to you…

“Take my place and tell me… do you still think this is love?” he asks, knowing well that you can’t speak and barely emit any sound. But eyes speak louder than words.

You fix your orbs into his. This is love… Accepting my faith, for you. Taking your place, for you. Go walk free, go make them your devotees. Make them bow, crush their bones, their souls, pulverize them. You are free if I’m allowed to take your place. Yet, loneliness will ever, never go away.

Aizen swallows. His smirk has faded away. His eyes, that reminds you of a lamb walking into the slaughter, remain.

You close your eyes. You really don’t have the resources to comprehend this, but you understand him. After all, he has always ran away from the things he wanted the most… being alone pained him, and yet, he did everything to make his solitude even bigger.

A sudden touch that makes you jolt, or barely as you are immobilized, scares you. But there is no doubt, his scent and the delicate graze of his fingers cannot be mistaken for anyone else’s. Aizen hasn’t ran away this time, he has stayed for you.

You open your eyes, slowly, watching with blurriness the chocolate eyes you love the most. “You didn’t leave me here…” you think.

“Why would I?” he answers back, as if he could listen to your thoughts… of course he can.

He peels the coverings on your mouth, leaving just one over your lips. It’s the string that creates more pressure, separating your lips, carving marks on your cheeks. You let your hasty breath slip through it, caressing Sosuke’s lips that are so close, so near.

“You have come here. You wanted me so bad, and here I am” he murmurs, with that deep voice that’s both sexy and dominating and also intimidating and scary.

You nod, with whimpering noises that are ripped by Aizen’s hand crawling through your leg. You haven’t noticed up until now, the way your body was presented to him… you were completely naked, like a painting for him to enjoy like in a museum. You, his muse, and work of art, for him to appreciate while hanging on a wall.

“I missed your legs… I missed your smell. I missed your skin… have you missed me, (Name)?” he asks, with pleading tone that makes you shiver, that makes your skin turn bumpy and overly sensitive.

Tears run through the commissure of your eyes. It’s beautiful to hear him say that he missed your body, even if maybe it’s not true.

His lips reach for your collar bones, placing those sweet butterfly kisses that are probably as dangerous as a double-edged sword. It’s so tiring to submit to a man like him, who smiles and kills, who hugs you just to stab your heart… that is what it takes to love him… A big heart that you will need to lose a thousand times.

The tip of his tongue taste your nipples, getting hard, expectant for him to devour them. With a hand he squeezes one of your breasts; they are turgently presented to him as your arms are opened, stretched, and pinned to that wall.

You can barely focus your eye sight down to where he is. His caramel hair, absolutely dishevelled, the warmth of his mouth surrounding one of your nipples… He inhales your scent as he sucks, he nurtures from your moans and body spasms.

His free hand reaches for your core. Folds that drip, folds that can’t be ignored no more. You plead with your eyes for him to touch you, to at least graze you with his fingertips.

Aizen ignores your needs, or perhaps he plays with them, pushing you to the extreme where it’s even painful to your body. He enjoys the way your wetness create a tiny pool right under where you are. It is for him pure art, the way your arousal honeys submits to gravity, in litmus strings that reflect the poor lighting of Muken.

“You haven’t changed a bit, (Name)… which version of me do you prefer? The gentle one, the soft and loving captain, right?” he asks, so sure you have fallen for his lies.

You deny with your head. With the pressure of the seal on your mouth, you try to speak. “Thef realf you ~ ”

He smirks. He understands what you want. You want more of this torture, you want the real treacherous menace that both put the skies on their knees and then helped them stand back again.

A sexy scoff over your lips, a kiss that you cannot reciprocate. And a kiss that he places either way. The sudden intrusion of his fingers into you, hitting the deepest place where they can reach.

You moan, muffled by that tight seal. He inhales, he sucks the pleasure noises with his mouth open in an O shape. His chin against yours, the tip of your nose pressed against his fine one.

Beckoning motions, making you tremble, making you even wetter. His forearm also covers by a thin runny layer of your body’s orgasmic responses, pleasing the masculine side of his inner self.

“Come from me, come…” he commands, as if you were made to choose. You nod, desperately, panting. You plead, you wish you could say all the things you wish to say, but you can’t. Aizen, perhaps, also controls your ability to speak, to communicate. You have been turned to a simple being whose mind went blank and a body is a slave of his hands.

Hands, fingers, brutally burying in and out, back, and forth. It hurts how much you squirm, the ties around your body pull and carve deep into your skin. You can’t escape; you don’t want to either way.

And without a single warning, without something that could let you know … or maybe yes, but you couldn’t hear, you couldn’t process- he impales you. The warm contact of his hardness with the velvet surface of your entrance, sliding inside of spasming walls. Lubricated by dripping honeys that pool in the base of his sex, he begins to pump in and out of you. It goes up and down, violently, brutally, pushing hard, making you jump.

“I’ve waited for this for so long… the tight embrace of your femineity. The way you mourn as I go so deep inside you. Are you mine, (Name)? Are you completely mine, (Name)?” he asks, in between the gasps and grunts coming from his throat.

“Mghhj… yes” you whine, feeling how your body gets freed from any seal, any material keeping you trapped. Your arms fall on top of his shoulders, like dead weight. You can touch him, every bump of his back, that soft manly muscular frame that you remember oh so very well.

Carved your nails into his flesh, your legs trap his waist as he holds you from yours. Aizen keeps fucking you until you feel like passing out, until you drool just a little from a brain killer pleasure on his neck.

His scent, the perfume of his skin. The warmth of his body against yours. The way his reiatsu is only perceived when his guard has been let down enough as his mind turns off and becomes a total slave of lust. The solitude of his eyes, that maybe there, in such short moments of connection, fades away…

“Don’t you ever go away, eternity won’t be ever enough” “I know, Aizen-sama… I’ll wait you forever…”

A sudden heavy touch on your shoulder wakes you up. “(Name)… were you able to speak to him? Are you ok?” Kyoraku Shunsui’s voice breaks the enchantment.

You open your eyes. The doors of Muken, right were you were the moment you step inside, appear open. The blinding lights from the outside hit your eyes.

“It’s only been a minute… but I was worried I couldn’t sense your spiritual pressure… Did he speak to you, after all?”

“He did, Kyoraku Taicho. Aizen Sosuke spoke to me”.

#aizen sōsuke #aizen x reader #aizen sousuke #aizen sosuke x reader #sosuke aizen #aizen bleach #bleach x reader #bleach #bleach anime #bleach x reader fanfic #bleach fanfic #muken aizen #sashi ya #aizen smut

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chasingfictions · 11 months

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lottie telling everyone why their life is fucked up directly in the second person but when it comes to nat’s suicide attempt she can only use third person … it’s giving lottienat two halves of a whole it’s giving well if she uses you for nat that also on some level means i . If she uses you she has to think about the fact that what she’s proposing is her own suicide attempt. and then the logic would unravel and she can’t do that . lottienat “you never talk shit unless someone really deserves it” + the affection of “you talking shit? you little bitch” and the first moment setting up their paradigm of ethics and honesty and the second calling back to their intimacy with each other. but in this moment it’s “not gonna solve shit with talking, nat” — it’s about lottie being untruthful to herself which is the same as being untruthful to nat. nat’s given full honesty and vulnerability since she arrived but lottie hasn’t been able to do the same — she didn’t tell the full story about travis’ death whereas the trust they built allowed nat to tell the full story about her near death experience with travis that led to his death. lottie is clinging to be the healer so she won’t have to be vulnerable. lottie and nat expressing what the other cant or wont in a given moment, expressing the opposition that makes the other into a fully realized being, by making them exist in relation. “not gonna solve shit with talking” means please don’t make me talk please just let me spiral please just let me help you instead of helping myself please let me forget I have a self. but nat always sees lottie as a girl and not a god a woman and not a prophet a friend lover enemy teammate family member and not a leader. lottie knows that by even being in a room with nat she is opening herself up to being Seen. to being judged and perceived and called out. nat who yells at lottie in the wilderness for her perceived harm. nat who in the present notices lottie’s wounded hand. nat who has threatened lottie’s life and expressed a wish for the end of lottie’s life and who is here now trying to find a way to keep living by lottie’s side. what is she so afraid of, what is Lottie so terrified of if she says you here. Is it the vulnerability . is it that nat will see her wanting to die and will say sure go ahead. is it that she’s afraid nat will see her as a god and not a girl. Lottie wants to be seen as a priestess and she takes comfort in it, and also she craves to be seen, and if she lets nat in she risks the possibility that nat will see her as a person, whcih she can’t allow from anyone, or as a god, which she can’t allow from nat. so she has to stay the healer. she has to stay distant. she can’t let nat in because that would let nat know how much lottie needs her. and lottie has bought into the godlike persona that she shouldn’t have needs .

she can’t say you because then what if nat doesn’t say you back. and what if nat Does. GIRLS WHEN THEIR SELFHOOD CAN BE AFFIRMED OR DENIED BY THE OTHER!! GIRLS WHEN TO EXIST IS TO BE SEEN!! GIRLS WHEN THE MORTIFYING ORDEAL OF BEING KNOWN. Lottie wants to stay shroedinger’s god but nat said open the box and let me love you already

#GIRLS WHEN YELLOWJACKETS MAKES THEM NEED TO REREAD I AND THOU BY MARTIN BUBER #yellowjackets #lottienat #yellowjackets meta #tw suicide mention

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red-dead-do-over246 · 1 year

Note

I don't know why but I always crave angst with a happy ending

Arthur is stressed and shouts at reader ( can be a kid or adult) and she runs with her horse to clear her mind for a few days and Arthur panics when she doesn't come back after 1 day

Just came by your blog and love your writing

Thank you! And angst with a happy ending is always a fave of mine, so I get it XD Hope you enjoy! 💖 *slight angst* with adult reader.

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Like a Bear

Arthur knows he can be as terrifying as a grizzly when he gets mad, but the real deal can do a lot more damage. He soon figures that out when you don’t return.

Dutch is always making Arthur’s life a living hell, even if he doesn’t realize it. Do this, do that. Not only him, but others have been on his back as well. Mr. Morgan, have you put anything into the box recently? Arthur knows someone is going to hit a nerve at some point. It’s like the old saying goes; don’t poke the bear.

Well, you poked a little too hard, and Arthur let you have it.

“Can’t I just have five minutes to myself! Without anyone comin’ to bother me!” Arthur shouted at you, much to your surprise. The man was always so kind-hearted and calm despite his upbringing. He would only act aggressive towards those who harmed those he cared about.

Not you. Never you. But here he was.

“I just wanted-” You started to say, but he cut you off.

“I can’t right now! I just can’t! Leave me be!” Arthur shouted at you in a way he’s only done to someone like Micah. Everyone in camp was now watching, some looking more shocked than others. You didn’t even have the energy to say anything else at this point. The whole point of your conversation was forgotten, obviously not important, and you didn’t want to face Arthur like this anymore.

So, you ran towards your horse and sped out of camp, everyone watching.

“Was that really necessary, Arthur?” Charles asked the young man, but Arthur just brushed him off with a wave of his hand.

“I don’t care right now...” He said before storming off, not even worrying about where you went. Arthur had his own problems, and he needed to deal with them on his own. But perhaps he should’ve worried more about you, and where your clouded head will take you.

Outlaws are fierce, but mother nature is much fiercer...

Around one day later.

“She’s been gone for a while.” Arthur mentioned, his head now clearer and emotions much kinder.

“A day is not a while, Arthur.” Micah commented from his place against a tree. I know we all hate to hear this, but he’s actually right. You usually are gone for several days when you need to clear your head after a tough day. So this wasn’t so unexpected.

But Arthur was worried. He had a bad feeling.

“Somethin’ just doesn’t feel right...” Arthur said and Micah scoffed, putting his knife away. He walked towards the other man.

“Somethin’ never feels right with you, Cowpoke.” Micah sneered and Arthur shot him a glare. He doesn’t have time for that rat right now. Arthur was more worried about you. Everything in his body was telling him that you were lost or hurt. Normally, he wouldn’t listen, but when it came to you, he was willing to take a chance.

Plus, you were owed an apology.

“I’m going to look for her.” He said to no one in particular before going to his own horse. Once he was in the saddle, Arthur tried to think of all the places that you would go. There was one place in particular that he thought of, but it was a bit of a ride.

Either way, he was headed towards the mountains...

Once he was lost in the wilderness, Arthur began to feel guilt overtake his panic. Despite any stress he was feeling, he shouldn’t take it out on you. He’s taken on plenty a burden before, so what’s any different now? You mattered to him, and he wasn’t going to let that go.

“Y/N!” He called out your name. Suddenly, his horse jumped a bit in an uneasy manner, and Arthur could sense the springiness in his horse’s hindquarters, like they were ready to bolt any second.

“Easy there, girl. You’re okay.” Arthur said while patting the horse’s neck. She whinnied slightly, pawing the ground a bit before Arthur urged her to walk again.

As he did so, he completely missed the deep gouges on the tree high above his head...

“Y/N! Where are you!” Arthur called out desperately as he continued to urge his horse deeper into the forest despite the protest he got for it. That should’ve been Arthur’s first warning; when his horse started to act up.

“Y/N!” He tried one last time, stopping his horse at the edge of a clearing.

“Over here...” A timid voice, one that was unlike yours, sounded from behind a boulder. Arthur’s heart leapt with relief as he rode his horse through the grasses and wildflowers to get to where you were. He couldn’t have been more grateful seeing your form curled up on the other side of that rock.

“Thank goodness...you’re alright.” He said while sliding off his horse, a rifle swung over his shoulder. You were curled up, seemingly afraid but not hurt. When you slowly looked up at Arthur, your eyes were full of tears.

He felt so much guilt that he didn’t even register that your horse was nowhere in sight.

“Oh Arthur...you...” You were so shaken up, but Arthur moved quickly to kneel before you and bring you into a hug, causing you to shriek.

“I’m sorry Y/N...I never meant to shout, I was just-” However, his tone was cut off by you wiggling to grab his shoulders, forcing him to turn around. He took note of the fear in your eyes.

“Arthur, it’s okay, but right now, we’re in danger.” You said in a shaky voice, and that’s when Arthur heard the noise. It was a huffing noise, made by something very large. Arthur got to his feet and turned fully to see the thing that was actually frightening you. The thing that scared your horse.

A very large grizzly bear.

It was walking over a rise in the plains, making it slowly reveal itself. It was like the bear came from out of the earth before it clearly saw Arthur. The grizzly huffed once more before roaring and lunging at the outlaw.

You let out a squeal of fear, but Arthur was prepared. His horse fled, but he knew he grabbed that rifle for a reason. The outlaw didn’t think twice before lifting the gun up and taking several shots. On any other occasion, he would’ve tried to leave the situation, but the bear gave him no choice.

It soon lay dead due to Arthur’s deadly accuracy.

“Now...are you okay?” Arthur asked with a slight grin, offering his hand to you. You nodded slightly, taking his hand and allowing him to help you up. Arthur then sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

“Again Y/N, I’m sorry-” But you cut him off by throwing yourself into him for a hug.

“You coming to save me said enough.” You told him softly with a smile. Arthur, getting as flustered as he can, hugged you back with a slight laugh. After giving you a couple pats on the back, you released him. Arthur then whistled for his horse, you following, glad things were cleared up.

“What did you do to anger that bear?” Arthur asked as you guys waited for the horses to come back. You stifled a laugh as you came up with an answer.

“I guess that bear was just like you when your grumpy...I got in its space on a bad day.”

Arthur laughed more than he did in ages. He was glad things were back to normal and you were safe and sound.

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 x reader #rdr2 #rdr #rdr2 arthur morgan #arthur morgan #arthur x reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan imagine

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cha-melodius · 9 months

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WIP Wednesday

Thanks to @three-drink-amy and @orchidscript for the tags! Posting for accountability that I did, in fact, start writing the You've Got Mail AU over the last few days. (FWIW, this is going to be a long fic, which means it's not seeing the light of day any time too soon. But there are other things in the works too, so keep your eye out!)

What would You've Got Mail be without emails? So please, have some emails.

To: A <[email protected]> From: H <[email protected]> Subject: Changing Seasons Dear A, There’s something magical about the time when the seasons are just beginning to turn, don’t you think? The leaves are just starting to be tinted yellow in those trees that panic at the first sign of a chill, and the air has a crispness that you can practically smell. Well, maybe one could if one didn’t live in the middle of one of the biggest cities in the world. I got a hint of it this morning, though, when I was taking David for a walk in the park. Soon I’ll need to wear a jacket, which is the best type of weather, if you ask me. If you’re wondering why I’m nattering in about the weather, it’s because I’m avoiding the fact that I’m to meet with my brother today concerning the family business. They’re expanding into a new venture shortly, and I’m expected to take a larger role in this one. I tell myself it won’t be all bad, but the whole business is just… not me. If only they’d just leave me to my books and forget I exist. Sometimes I dream of running off to the wilderness and hiding from the world, but would I be able to get a proper pot of tea? Anyway, I shouldn’t bore you further with my woes, minor such as they are. I hope your day is considerably less vexing than mine will be. Yours, H To: H <[email protected]> From: A <[email protected]> Subject: Re: Changing Seasons H, First off, you could never bore me, so jot that down. Seriously, your “woes” don’t seem that minor. To put it far less eloquently than you: that shit sucks, yo. You’re always welcome to complain in my inbox. You’re wrong (what’s new?) about the weather, though. I was born and bred for the heat and the sun. The coming of fall is like a fucking harbinger of doom. Most of the time the life I have here makes up for it, though. I don’t think I could do the wilderness, but not because of the lack of tea (lack of excellent coffee? maybe). I love how full of life the city is, how you can be so close to that many other people but somehow still so anonymous, how something is always happening. My day will probably be about the same as every other one, but I don’t mind. Sometimes a little boring is a good thing. Wish I could take your place at your meeting, though, I’d talk circles around your dickhead brother. I used to be in law school, did I ever tell you that? I’m SO fucking good at arguing. He wouldn’t even know what hit him. You can imagine me with you, if it helps, and feel free to unload your frustration later. I’m always in your corner. A

Tagging @celeritas2997, @cricketnationrise, @celaestis1, @rmd-writes, @welcometololaland (mostly because of your comment on the poll lmao), @mirilyawrites, @loki-is-my-kink-awakening

#wip wednesday #my wips #rwrb #red white and royal blue #firstprince #false dichotomy

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apocalypticavolition · 14 days

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Let's (re)Read The Dragon Reborn! Chapter 2: Saidin

I am running out of pictures so rapidly it's alarming. It's as if I've moved beyond the territory of the show and the comic books and so all we've got left is text, which is apparently terrible for engagement. Also terrible for engagement is warning people about spoilers, which is why I won't tell anyone who doesn't already know that this post contains spoilers for the whole of The Wheel of Time series. Come right in and make lots of outraged replies about how I've ruined everything for you instead.

This chapter starts with the dragon's fang symbol, probably because it's literally called "Saidin" and Rand will be fucking things up with it.

All the women who came insisted on speaking to Moiraine immediately, and alone. The news that Moiraine chose to share with the rest of them did not always seem very important, but the women held the intensity of a hunter stalking the last rabbit in the world for his starving family.

It's almost like they're working for an Aes Sedai, and not just any Aes Sedai but one of the few left who tries to live up to the old standard. I'd think that pretty important too unless I was literally dyingn of thirst.

Or ever, he added to himself. Moiraine had kept them there all winter. The Shienarans did not think she gave the orders, not here, but Perrin knew that Aes Sedai somehow always seemed to get their way. Especially Moiraine.

I get that you're stir-crazy bro but do you really WANT to be wandering the wilderness in the middle of winter, fighting battles that you can avoid by staying still? What alternatives do you have other than "Don't do what Moiraine wants because she's Aes Sedai"?

“The Tinker woman is going to die,” she said softly, eyeing the others near the fires. None was close enough to hear.

It's times like this you can remember why Min doesn't particularly want her powers. She's probably seen quite a few people who were going to die soon by this point, just because when you walk by so many people in a city it's bound to happen sooner or later.

“Is that her name? I wish I didn’t know. It always makes it worse, knowing and not being able to. . . . Perrin, I saw her own face floating over her shoulder, covered in blood, eyes staring. It’s never any clearer than that.” She shivered and rubbed her hands together briskly.

I wonder if these omens she sees are realistic enough to be as traumatizing as seeing the actual thing.

He thought of the wolves. No! The scouts would find anyone or anything trying to approach the camp.

Good job helping fulfill Min's prophecy, Perrin. Things might have been different if you'd used your resources to your fullest advantage.

She had told him; she had tried warning people about bad things when, at six or seven, she had first realized not everyone could see what she saw. She would not say more, but he had the impression that her warnings had only made matters worse, when they were believed at all.

Poor Min.

It had made him cautious and careful, and regretful of his anger when he let it show. “I am sorry, Min. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I did not mean to hurt you.” She gave him a surprised look.

Really I think my problem with Perrin is that it's very obvious that he has completely over-corrected for problems in the past to the point where he's now too afraid to do much of anything on his own.

“Strange,” she said softly, “how you seem to care so much about the Tuatha’an. They are utterly peaceful, and I always see violence around—” He turned his head away, and she cut off abruptly.

And again, it's other women tearing Perrin apart with words much more than him hurting them physically or emotionally. Perrin's problem is that at heart he absolutely agrees that violence is damaging even in self-defense but he exists in an Age where that self-defense is very necessary.

She rolled her eyes at Perrin, a wry twist to her mouth. “All I wanted was to live as I pleased, fall in love with a man I chose. . . .” Her cheeks reddened suddenly, and she cleared her throat.

1. Min, almost no one chooses who they fall in love with. 2. You're lucky you're blabbering in front of Perrin and Loial and not anyone with an understanding of love because for all your "don't like to talk about your visions" thing, you sure are signposting it for everyone.

The Ogier looked at them, suddenly shy, his ears twitching. “Promise you will not laugh? I think I might write a book about it. I have been taking notes.”

Really, you could argue that Loial has hardly been swept up into the ta'veren stuff at all yet. If he'd met anyone so interesting as Rand and crew, he might have chosen to go traveling with them anyway. After all, his choosing to leave the groves had nothing to do with them.

Uno, who could hardly say a sentence without a curse, spoke now with the deepest respect. The others echoed him. “Honor to serve.” Masema, who saw ill in everything, and whose eyes now shone with utter devotion; Ragan; all of them, awaiting a command if it were Rand’s pleasure to give one.

While Rand of course dislikes this treatment, I do think that having to deal with this for a few months is the start of his arrogance. You can't be treated like this by every normal person you spend time with without it starting to rub off on you.

And aside from Moiraine and Lan, there were only the three of them—Min, Loial, and him—who did not stare at Rand as if he stood above kings. And of the three only Perrin knew him from before.

It's rather unfortunate that Perrin instinctively understands why Rand needs him here and tosses that aside much later on in the story. All three of the boys seem to backslide a bit as a result of what happens to them.

A man—a thing!—everyone was taught to loathe and fear from childhood. Only . . . it was hard to stop seeing the boy he had grown up with. How do you just stop being somebody’s friend?

Prejudices - even really rational ones like "Don't trust the dudes who can and will melt you in their sleep" - tend to have a hard time sticking around in the face of empathy, which Perrin to his credit does have a lot of. It's why he's a little better at dealing with this stuff than Mat.

He began to laugh mirthlessly, his shoulders shaking. “I have the duty, because there isn’t anybody else, now is there?”

Rand's not going mad from the taint here, but rather from the reality of his position finally setting in. The weight of the world is on his shoulders so it's understandable that he's cracking under the strain. And that more than anything is why Moiraine is right to have him wait - if he did go out onto the Plain in this state he'd probably snap in battle instead of thrive like he has before.

Perrin almost laughed himself, in confusion. “If you agree with her, why in the Light do you argue all the time?” “Because I have to do something. Or I’ll . . . I’ll—burst like a rotted melon!”

Like Perrin, Rand's big problem in this sequence is that he doesn't have any viable alternatives and just whines a lot instead. There's a lot Rand could be doing (more training with Lan, trying to learn politics from Moiraine, studying with Loial, etc.) but instead of dedicating himself to his fate he just laments all the deaths that are happening in his name instead. This is naturally only going to lead to more problems down the line.

Rand shivered; despite the chill, there was sweat on his face. His eyes were still shut tight. “Oh, Light,” he groaned, “it pulls so.”

Nope, this isn't taint madness either (I will be doing my best to demonstrate to you why NONE of his craziness in this book can be chalked up to that specifically). Remember: Rand is a wilder and he's still in that awkward "could easily draw enough power to burn himself out because he doesn't even know the proper exercises for starting out with the power" phase.

Rand stood with his head thrown back, his eyes still shut tight. He did not seem to feel the thrashing of the ground that had him now at one angle, now at another. His balance never shifted, no matter how he was tossed. Perrin could not be certain, being shaken as he was, but he thought Rand wore a sad smile. The trees flailed about, and the leatherleaf suddenly cracked in two, the greater part of its trunk crashing down not three paces from Rand. He noticed it no more than he noticed any of the rest.

The land and Rand are one, so he externalizes his temper tantrum out onto the world to avoid having to acknowledge his actual feelings.

Rand looked around as if seeing things for the first time. The fallen leatherleaf, and the broken branches. There was, Perrin realized, surprisingly little damage. He had expected gaping rents in the earth. The wall of trees looked almost whole.

And of course, Rand hasn't really addressed any of his internal issues so while he's a little disheveled, nothing has actually changed.

“They’re always there, dreams,” Rand said, so softly Perrin barely heard. “Maybe they tell us things. True things.” He fell silent, brooding.

Rand is of course also snapping under the pressure of Ba'alsy's TAR campaign. The lack of good sleep is already catching up to him here and it's not going to be getting better anytime soon.

Ah well. Next time: News!

#let's read #wheel of time #wot #robert jordan #wheel of time spoilers #wot spoilers #perrin aybara #leya #min farshaw #loial #rand al'thor #uno nomesta #masema dagar #ragan

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dragoneyes618 · 1 year

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Nothing is as Simple as Black and White

Inspired by the “What if Bruno Madrigal is Carlos de Vil’s father” idea by me and @silverloreley plus this fanfiction by @silverloreleysfanfics.

Carlos hovered nervously at the outskirts of the village.

It looked like a nice little village. Friendly. Peaceful. People bustling around on their everyday business, children playing.

Completely foreign, for an Isle boy.

He scratched Dude between the ears. It had been a hassle, bringing him all the way here - two plane flights, a short boat ride, and a lot of walking, not necessarily in that order - but in Carlos’ opinion it was worth it.

“It’s going to be fine,” he told Dude, rubbing his fur. Dude growled softly in contentment.

“Right,” Carlos continued, emboldened. “We’ll just go in and ask directions to the Madrigal family….there’s a bunch of them, it shouldn’t be too hard to find one…and then we’ll just - well, I’ll just say who I am and ask them to stay and give them the letters he…Oh, forget it,” he said abruptly. His arm dropped to his side. “Who am I kidding?”

Dude barked cheerfully, as though to say, “Me!”

“They don’t even know me,” Carlos muttered. “They probably don’t even know I exist. If they did they would have showed up at Auradon Prep like Snow White did for Evie. They’ll just kick me out and I’ll have to find somewhere else to live for the summer.”

It was hot. He was thirsty. There were birds singing in the trees - even after months in Auradon, he still found that odd - and beautiful, vibrant flowers grew everywhere.

This wouldn’t have been nearly so bad if one of his friends or cousins were with him. But his cousins, of course, were still on the Isle. Carlos had promised to try to get them off, just as Jay had to Jade and Mal had to Hadie and Evie had to Dizzy. But so far, nothing was doing. Being friends with the, admittedly extremely busy, king of Auradon didn’t have as many advantages as Carlos had thought it would. And just being in Auradon didn’t mean they had the power to change things. The newly-arrived and technically on paper not actually in Auradon Freddie Facilier was already getting very impatient.

And his friends weren’t there, because for the summer they weren’t allowed to just live in the dorms. (“We live there the rest of the time!” Mal had argued, but Fairy Godmother had been adamant. “It’s not like the buildings are unfit for human habitation! There’s enough food and running water and plumbing and everything! Why are you looking at me like that? We won’t be lonely, we’ll have each other! We can even catch up on all our schoolwork since we’ll literally be living in the school! What do you mean we need adult supervision and stable family structures?”)

So for the summer, they were all staying with whatever family they had in Auradon. Which wasn’t much.

Evie was staying with Snow White, who was technically her stepsister. From what Carlos had seen so far, the time Snow had come to school to meet Evie and from whatever Evie mentioned about the occasional texts they’d exchanged since then, they seemed to be getting along all right. But then, in a way the Evil Queen was Snow’s mother as well.

Jafar had no known family, so Jay was staying with Coach Jenkins.

Maleficent also had no known family - at least, no known family that could be contacted and was willing to. Unless Mal wanted to wander into the wilderness in Auroria and wait for any fae kin to find her, she was alone, so Ben had convinced his parents to let her stay with them for the summer.

Which left Carlos. The only one of them who had biological family anywhere in Auradon.

Ben had been surprised. “I thought all the de Vils were on the Isle,” he’d said.

“We are,” Carlos had said. “I don’t mean my mother’s family.”

Now, Carlos took a deep breath. “Come on, boy,” he murmured to Dude, slinging his backpack, which contained everything he owned, onto his shoulder. “We might as well get this over with.”

Mirabel spun as she danced in the street, laughing. “Come on, dance with me,” she called, and three small figures (usually there would be four, but Tía Pepa had informed Camilo that it was his turn to watch Antonio for the day) ran after her, spinning and dancing to the best of their ability. Which wasn’t much, considering none of them were older than six, but their enthusiasm more than made up for it.

Mirabel liked spending time with the little kids of Encanto. Children were so sweet and adorable and enthusiastic. She played with them and made up games with them and told them stories, and they told her all about the events going on in their lives, competing for her attention, and at least this way she was doing something useful, right?

“Faster!” Mirabel shouted, reaching out her arms; Juancho and Cecilia and Alejandra grabbed her hands - well, Cecilia and Juancho did, Alejandra held both of their hands - and they all spun in a circle until they fell down dizzy, giggling.

“That was fun!” Juancho announced. “Let’s do it again!”

Mirabel stretched in the warmth of the sun and began to sit up.

Her head hit the dirt as she fell over backwards, bowled over by a heavy weight that had materialized on her stomach. She yelped, her vision full of brown fur. Something warm and wet lapped at her face.

The children were laughing and shrieking.

“Dog! Dog!”

“Mirabel! Are you okay?”

“I wanna pet the dog!”

Someone shouted in English, accompanied by running footsteps.

The dog sprawled atop Mirabel shifted, ears perking up. Mirabel tried to sit up again, pushing the dog into her lap and wiping the dog spittle off her face with her sleeve.

A boy of about Mirabel’s age was running forward, his face panicked, calling out in English; Mirabel caught the words no and stop. The dog leapt off Mirabel and bounded over to the boy, tail wagging, as though expecting to be rewarded with treats. The boy gave it an angry look, gesturing to Mirabel, then looked at her nervously as she stood up and brushed her dress off.”

“I’m sorry,” he said in stilted, accented, but understandable Spanish. “He doesn’t usually do this. I am very sorry. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she assured him, but he still looked afraid, like he thought she was going to be furious at him. “No, really, I’m fine! No harm done.”

“Is that your dog?” Cecilia asked.

“Of course it is!” Juancho interrupted before the boy could answer.

The boy looked startled. “Oh - yes, this is my dog. Sorry. Um-”

“Can we pet him?” Alejandra wanted to know.

“Oh - sure - he liked being petted - just be gentle-”

He’d barely gotten a few words out before the dog was laying down with a supremely contented look on its face while the three children gave him belly rubs.

“You’d think they’d never seen a dog before,” Mirabel commented fondly.

“No?” the boy asked.

“I mean, they have, they just get really excited over, well, everything,” Mirabel explained. “Anyway, so…you’re new here?” Clearly, he was; the Encanto didn’t get many visitors, so strangers were instantly recognizable.

“Um, yeah, I’m….My name is Carlos.”

Carlos. That was a Spanish name, but Carlos himself didn’t appear to be. He didn’t look it, and while his Spanish, while fairly good for a foreigner, wasn’t fluent, and his accent wasn’t Colombian either. Perhaps his parents had died when he was young, and he’d been raised elsewhere?

Enough speculation. He was a visitor to the Encanto, and she was the only Madrigal present and so must give him a good impression of the Madrigals and the Encanto. Although that was kind of hard to do with mud all over your skirt.

“I’m Mirabel,” she said. “Nice to meet you.”

Carlos blinked. “I - oh - thanks,” he said. “Um, I’m actually looking for something…someone, I mean, a few people….Would you happen to know where the Madrigal family is?”

Oh. Well. That made sense. To anyone outside the Encanto, the Madrigals were the only notable members inside it, what with the magic most of them possessed. Maybe he needed help, help that only her family’s magic could give him.

“Right here!” Juancho piped up from where he was scratching Carlos’ dog behind the ears.

“What?” Carlos said.

“Mirabel’s a Madrigal,” Alejandra explained.

“Oh!” Carlos, if anything, looked even more nervous. Which was ridiculous, really; no one would ever be wary of her. Not when there was Luisa-Who-Can-Lift-Anything or Dolores-Who-Knows-All-Your-Secrets or Tía Pepa-Armed-With-Lightning (Okay, so Camilo’s imitations were a little funny, she had to admit) to be faced.

Or, once, Tío Bruno. But no one talked about him.

“So….do you want to meet my family?” Mirabel prompted. He’d have to, if he needed their help, but he looked like that was the last thing he wanted to do.

“Um…yes?” Carlos almost squeaked. “Please? If it isn’t too much trouble?”

“Of course it’s not! Come on, Casita - my house - is this way.”

Mirabel led the way. Carlos, who kept glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, followed just behind her, and his dog right behind him, accompanied by the three kids who had apparently decided that said dog was currently their most favorite thing in the world. (“Look! He licked my hand! He likes me! Look, he lets me pet him! That’s nothing, he lets all of us pet him! Ooh, look, he’s smiling at me! Dogs don’t smile! Yes they do! Isn’t he smiling, Juancho?”)

“So, um…Mirabel.” Carlos swallowed. “Could you…tell me about your family?”

“Sing him the song!” Alejandra called from behind them.

They both turned. “The song?” Carlos asked.

Mirabel shrugged. “A while ago I made up a little song about my family, to sing for the kids around town. I guess they liked it.”

“We LOVED it!” Juancho announced, jumping up and down; Mirabel wondered if he’d been at the coffee again. “Sing it again! Please!”

“You have to sing it, for him,” Cecilia pointed out. “Because he doesn’t know your family.”

Mirabel gave a half-laugh. “Oh, all right, but only if we keep walking.” Somewhat self-consciously, she began her song.

She sang of how her family had been blessed, how they used their gifts to keep the Encanto safe and flourishing. She sang of her Abuela who led the family and the village, who had received the miracle so many years ago, through her own love and grief; of Tía Pepa, who could control the very weather with her emotions, calling up a storm in a rage or a rainbow in bliss; of Tío Bruno, the prophet long gone (Carlos flinched); of her mother, the kindest, gentlest soul in the Encanto, with the gift of healing to match; of her father and Tío Felix, who both proclaimed that they’d become the happiest men alive the moment they’d married their respective wives.

Moving on to her generation, she began with Dolores, who could hear a pin drop from the other side of the village. Then on to Camilo, who could change shape at will and perfectly imitate anybody he saw. Antonio, soon to receive his gift. Señorita Perfecta Isabela, beautiful and graceful, who could grow any kind of flower, anywhere. Luisa, gifted with superstrength.

“Wow,” Carlos said when Mirabel had finished. “That’s….a lot.”

“It is,” Mirabel agreed wholeheartedly.

“So what’s your gift?”

Mirabel’s heart sank down to her toes. She’d hoped he wouldn’t ask that.

“Mirabel didn’t get one,” Cecilia informed him.

“No?”

“Nope!” Juancho chimed in. “She’s the only Madrigal not to get one! No one knows why.”

“Oh,” he said. “Uh. Sorry.”

“It’s all right,” she assured him. It made sense that he would ask. The questions - at least the first questions, the ones of “What’s your gift?” and “You didn’t get a gift?” didn’t bother her; they were only to be expected. What did bother her were the ones like “So why do you think you didn't get a gift?”

“Anyway!” she said with some relief. “Here we are!”

Mirabel led him into the courtyard. Juancho, Cecilia, and Alejandra offered to stay at the gate and watch his dog. Carlos said, in English, “Stay, Dude!” to his dog, who plopped himself right down for some more belly rubs.

“Mirabel!” her mother called, coming through the door. “Where have you b- Oh! Who’s this?” She gave Carlos a surprised, almost spooked look.

“This is Carlos,” Mirabel said. “He’s from…” She realized that Carlos hadn’t actually told her where he was from. “Anyway, he wanted to talk to all of you, and I said I would bring him to meet you? He needs our help.” Carlos didn’t contradict her.

Mama blinked several times. “Hello, Carlos. It’s nice to meet you. I’m sorry - it’s just that you reminded me of someone for a moment. Come right in; Mirabel, bring him to the living room, Abuela will see him there.”

Mirabel led him through the hallway, past Tío Felix, whose eyes widened; past Dolores, who poked her head out of a doorway, squeaked, and pulled herself back in; past her father, who dropped the stack of plates he was holding and shooed them both away when they tried to help him pick them up; past Luisa, who was juggling dumbbells; and past the kitchen, where her father had deposited his miraculously unbroken plates and was whispering loudly to her mother “Doesn’t he look a bit like-” before finally reaching the living room.

Sometimes she wished she’d been born into a normal family.

“You can sit if you want,” she offered. She didn’t usually entertain guests and had no clue of what to do.

Carlos jumped a little, said “Thanks,” and sat down gingerly on the very edge of the sofa.

Abuela walked in, took one look at Carlos, and demanded “Who are you?”

Carlos quailed, but drew himself up and answered “Carlos de Vil.”

Devil? Wasn’t that the English for Diablo? What kind of name was that?

“A-are y-you Doña Alma Madrigal?” Carlos stuttered. Mirabel thought he was trembling. He looked terrified.

“I am,” Abuela answered, but before she could say anything else Carlos reached into his pocket and withdrew several grubby, folded pieces of paper; sealed envelopes. He unfolded one, then another, and handed that one to Abuela.

“This is for you,” was all he said.

The envelope was labeled, simply, Mamá.

"Oh, Dios mío!” Mirabel gasped. “You’re C!”

“You’re C?” Camilo asked. “You must be!”

“He’s C!” Dolores agreed. “Wow, I never thought we’d actually meet him!”

Carlos looked overwhelmed, like he quite wished no one would be paying any attention to him. Unfortunately, the exact opposite was the case. “C?”

The entire family was crowded into the kitchen. Mama and Tía Pepa were hugging each other, weeping about their poor Brunito, the letters Carlos had delivered to them from him clutched in their hands. Abuela was sitting in her seat, reading her own letter over and over, as though trying to discern some hidden meaning in the words.

Carlos himself was sitting at the table with the heaping plateful of food Julieta had demanded he eat before interrogating him about his father and ripping open her own letter to read. So far, he’d eaten very little of it.

Papa and Tío Felix were huddled together, whispering.

Mirabel and her sisters and cousins were all crowded around poor Carlos.

“You got a door,” Isabela explained. “To your room in Casita, and you would have received your gift when you opened it. It had your initial on it, so we knew you existed, and that your name started with C. But that was all we knew about you. And you weren’t there to open it, so your door disappeared.” She hesitated. “You do know about the doors and the gifts, right?”

Carlos nodded jerkily. “He told me. But I thought it was just a story, then.”

Antonio interrupted them all to come up and wrap his arms around Carlos and the chair Carlos was sitting in. “A new cousin!” he proclaimed. “Hi, new cousin! I’m Antonio!”

“Uh - hi, Antonio,” Carlos said, sitting very stiffly and ill at ease, seemingly uncomfortable.

“Do we also get to meet a new tía?” Antonio wanted to know, still keeping his small arms wrapped around Carlos’ stomach.

“What?” Dolores asked.

“If we have a new cousin,” Antonio explained, “then we also have a new tia! Is she visiting, too? Can we meet her?” He looked around expectantly, as though waiting for the cousins’ new tia to come walking in.

“No!” Carlos snapped, and then again, calmer, gingerly removing Antonio’s arms from they were wrapped around him, “No. You won’t meet her. You can’t meet her. She’s not here.”

Mirabel remembered when Carlos’ door had appeared, only about a year after her own failed ceremony. She’d been so excited, because she’d thought she would finally be getting a gift, after all. But then the door hadn’t even been for her.

She’d been jealous, at first. She had been born and raised in Casita and got no gift or room at all, while the cousin the rest of them knew nothing about would have gotten a room and gift of his own - or would have had, if he’d been there to open his door. But he hadn’t been, so his door had faded as well.

But she’d also felt a strange kinship. After all, the mysterious C was also a giftless Madrigal. There had been no C to open the door. No C to receive a gift. She wasn’t the only Madrigal without a gift, then.

Every year, the Madrigal cousins marked the date the door had appeared as C’s birthday. It was a day of tense silences, a day to be lost in thought, just like the triplets’ birthday was, and Mirabel’s birthday, and a random day near the beginning of November that they had eventually realized was the day Tío Bruno had been taken away.

She’d always wondered if one day, somehow, she would get to meet the mysterious C. And now, here he was.

This is a week or so before Antonio receives his gift.

I figure that Carlos would know some Spanish because if and when Bruno was present in his childhood, he would have spoken it to him. Also, once he found out he’s getting sent to Encanto for the summer, he would have tried to learn some; he’s smart, he’s picked up at least the basics by now.

As an aside, according to Return to the Isle of the Lost, Carlos’ middle name is Oscar. And what was Bruno’s name originally in some early concept art? Oscar.

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softerhaze · 2 years

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apparently, you can’t ask the moonwood mill townies questions that prompt special answers once they join your household. so, i decided to grab all of lou’s responses from the string table :) i’m gonna post them here for future reference and in case anyone else wants to see what he says!

"Kristopher's a pretty cool Werewolf to have taken in everyone he has. Of course, he didn't take me in... so he kind of missed taking in the coolest wolf, but hey, he does an adequate job."

"I love me some PowerSip MIDNIGHT! I'm glad they're always fighting the legal battles to make their next big flavor. Who wouldn't want to taste MIDNIGHT? Seriously, they must have some spellcaster brewers making the stuff. How else do you harness the essence of night?"

"So I've snatched a few things over the years. A future cube, a few paintings, some children's toys—which I donated, so don't look at me like that! The best thing I ever took was a piano. Don't ask me how I did it. That's a secret."

"How did I end up in Moonwood Mill? Well, I stole a few things I probably shouldn't have, and I was on the run. I figured nobody would find me way out here in the middle of the wilderness. Guess I was right."

"Who doesn't want to be an immortal wolf? I hear you need to be pretty powerful to pull it off. Don't worry, I'll get there soon."

"Not sure how I feel about the concept of fated mates. Like, ONE Werewolf? FOREVER?? That's a lot of commitment."

"So I asked Celene out on a date, yeah. We were going for a walk over that bridge, when I heard a helpless kid or something crying for help. I'm a pretty nice guy, so I was like, ‘Hey Celene, we gotta go help the kid.’ We braved going past those signs and all that, and we ran into Greg. Well, I had to try and protect Celene. She was pretty scared! So I ran up to him and suggested Greg leave us alone. No taunting or anything, just a stern suggestion. He didn't take kindly to that, and well... here we are. That's the truth of it all!"

"I'm not sure I like the idea of Vampires. I guess most Werewolves don't... Spellcasters on the other hand? They sound pretty cool. I'd get together with one."

"Greg is kind of a problem. We all know it. I don't know why he came here in the first place if he doesn't want to join a pack and live like the rest of us."

"The Moonwood Collective isn't really my scene. They're too into nature. Have you seen them leaning on that old tree? No fire anywhere? BORING."

"Rory was a lone Alpha until I joined her pack. It just felt right to me. We're a good fit as a pack and I like how she encourages me to explore being a Werewolf."

"Who knows if I'd take a cure or not. I mean, right now? No. My pack is pretty cool. I'm still figuring out everything I can do. Why would I want to give that up?"

"Yeah, okay, I'll admit that I feel kind of bad about what happened to Celene. I know she was pretty traumatized by it all. She, well... we were both pretty scared. I don't know, I don't think I want to talk about it, even with you."

"When you're the new wolf on the block, you'll notice that you certainly have less control than the others. Give it time, it gets better."

"I'm always getting asked why I didn't take the antidote after our encounter, like Celene did. Well, I figured I was strong enough to ride it out. It was just a small bite! I guess I was wrong... "

"Just because I'm all about embracing the inner beast doesn't mean I'm opposed to someone seeking a cure. Be true to you. That's what's important. Just don't try to make me take it!"

"If I wasn't a Werewolf, I think I'd want to be a Mermaid. Surprised? Eh, don't be. They also have a connection to the moon, you know? With the tides and all that. Did you know mermaids can stay out of the water longer during a Full Moon?"

#he had WAY more responses than i was anticipating #i saw maybe like....2 of these in regular gameplay sheesh

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dd122004dd · 2 years

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The Not-so-Terrifying Eldritch Terror

Well, we’re writing a fic about the second eldritch terror, the uninvited. And the reader is a hedge-witch who was wandering the forests alone. She’s a witch of herbs and healing but she also specializes in poisons, so hence she was always excluded from the coven.

So, the reader is at Hilda’s wedding and she proposes that instead of crashing other people’s parties, why not build his own home? The terror should build a place to belong or he can take shelter in her home.

And they relate to each other, because they were forever un-welcomed and now they have each other and it’s really fluffy.

Also, since she’s a witch of herbs and healing, she like yk cleans him up and heals his wounds. I mean, the man’s legs must be sore and blistered from wandering the cosmos for all of eternity.

Also, he’d totally rip the hearts out of anyone who hurt her.

Warnings: Mentions of the end of the world, mentions of homicide, implies forced marriage but it is her choice, scars and wounds

A hedge witch, that was what the coven called me, though I had been here even before their forefathers laid their roots in my soil. They always hated my kind, called us uneducated and unnatural.

So, now here I was, after centuries of wandering the wilderness alone, at the wedding of Hilda Spellman, surrounded by people who appreciated me and my talents.

To be quite fair, I was quite ready to eradicate the puny coven with the other hedge witches but as time progressed they grew on me, like vines they encased me with their warmth and I felt like I had a place to belong, a home.

The champagne was flowing and the band was moving the attendants of the party with their groovy beats. Hilda and her new groom looked happily in love, like the people around them ceased to exist in each other’s presence. I wish to have such a love, one day.

Then came the disastrous speech which quite frankly was hilarious. I mean I knew that the youngling shouldn’t have had so much gin but she was an adult, so what can we say?

I’m not going to lie, I quite enjoyed the music Sabrina’s friends were playing, particularly the song ‘Radio Gaga’ what an odd name but it was certainly groovy. But as the music slowly came to a close, the incubus in Theo kept body-hopping till it landed in the particularly fine gentleman in a dashing suit...who seemed to absorb the incubus.

And that’s where all hell broke loose.

Okay, why would they not keep Ambrose in-charge of letting the guests in, since he knew what the Uninvited looked like? Or they could have showed Sabrina and Nick a picture of the potential party-crasher, honestly these witches just make life a little harder sometimes.

Though, I’m a little sad that the little warlock got his heart pulled out, but who tries to try and boss around an Eldritch terror? Especially about clothes?

The Eldritch terror proceeded to propose a toast, to the end of days, promising to end each of us who attended the wedding, refusing Hilda’s invitation.

Just as the entity started approaching the crowd, Sabrina stepped forward but before she could get a word out I stepped in front of her, “What if you were always invited?”

The entity looked at me, curious at my question.

“What if you had a place to belong? A home. A place that you were always welcomed to. A place where you could finally rest? Would you spare these people in exchange?”

“I would, but I have no such resting place, hence since these people deprived me of my momentary reprieve, I shall deprive them of their hearts, for only those that are truly heart-less deserve to be so.”

He raised his arm to plunge into the nearest guest before I interrupted, “I could give you that. A home.”

“How?” His voice echoed through the silent hall.

“We could get married. That way, you’d always be welcome to my home. You’d always have a seat at my table, beside me and you’ll receive the warmth that was denied of you at the beginning.”

The Uninvited eagerly agreed, while the rest of the inhabitants of the hall were relieved to live another day yet appalled at my solution.

“Why would you do this? Sacrifice yourself to be chained to that-that monster?” Sabrina questioned, outraged.

“I feel- I sense his loneliness. I know how he feels, how it feels to not have anywhere to rest, anywhere to call home, so the least I could do is provide his weary soul with some comfort, dear friend.”

“Still! It’s not right that you have to sacrifice so much for a coven who spurned you, only inviting you in when they had no other option.”

“Sabrina, it was my choice. My decision and I would appreciate it if you did not meddle with this. I do not wish to trap him in a trinket like we did the darkness, so please do not do that. Plus, I’ll be okay. And maybe he’ll be able to help us against the other terrors.” Sabrina’s protests died down but I knew that she would not let this go silently.

The rest of the coven had mixed reactions. Zelda shared Sabrina’s sentiments, Hilda felt guilty as if the whole ordeal was her fault and Ambrose...well he was less than pleased.

We had the wedding at the academy, in Zelda’s office with Zelda officiating, much to her displeasure. I wore a beautiful white dress decorated with real flowers, namely, white plumeria, aquelegia canadensis, baby blue eyes. hellebores and a plethora of other flowers.

A flower crown sprouted from my hair, a courtesy of my nature based powers, or ‘flower-powers’ as Sabrina would call them.

When I walked into the room, everyone was stunned into silence. If it was under better circumstances, some would have smiled too.

The person who was the most stunned was perhaps my own groom, with wide eyes filled with adoration and wonder he extended his hands towards me. I placed my hands gently in his, noting the wounds from his years of travel.

I smiled softly at him, before the ceremony began.

The wedding passed by in a blur and before I knew it I was being escorted out of the office on the arm of my new husband.

We entered the main hall of the coven and I raised my arms, causing vines to sprout from the crevices of the hall. Flowers of a wide variety blossomed in the room. Everyone was in awe of the display. Music played through the air as the newly wed couple danced and the coven watched.

Soon they retired to her cottage in the woods that she had built over the centuries.

It was had two floors and was quite large. It looked like it had emerged from a fairy tale.

“May I carry you over the threshold?” Her groom asked tentatively.

She agreed and he carried her to her room.

Her room was decorated with vines and plants on every surface. Her bed was carved of wood with intricate patterns throughout. She also had a huge vaulted window through which moon-light poured into the room. Near the window was a window-seat laid with pillows and cushions that looked incredibly cozy.

Her groom gently set her down on her feet and looked at her.

She simply smiled and told him, “First, before we go further I want to give you a bath then tend to your wounds. I know they must hurt. Will you let me?”

Taken aback by his bride’s request, he simply nodded his consent.

She grinned and went to prepare him a bath.

When his wife was out of the room he began contemplating her actions. Why would she be so kind to him? He was the one who had threatened to kill her and all those she held dear to her. Why would she want to dress his wounds? No one had ever dressed his wounds before. Why did she care? Was it all an act? Was this some sort of trap? No. It couldn’t be. She was too kind and he sensed no ulterior motives from her.

He was broken out of his reverie by the sound of his new bride calling him into the bathroom.

The bathroom was a large room with a white bath tub at the center of the room. At the far end of the room also stood a shower as well as a few shelves with all sorts of herbs, essential oils, bath salts and bubble-baths- everything that one would need to take a relaxing bath. There was also a screen in the corner behind which the new groom took off his garments.

The bathroom glowed in the yellow lights of the candles spread across the room.

The tub was filled with sweet-smelling water. He could not place the scent but it was quite relaxing. Flowers of all kinds floated on the water and beside the tub stood his new bride, she had changed her clothes to something more comfortable, smiling gently at him she motioned for him to enter the tub.

As his back rested against the warm porcelain of the tub his new wife got to work, gently removing the knots from his hair before washing it clean of what seemed like centuries of grime. She proceeded to gently wash his face, being mindful of the cuts.

As she was washing his hands, he asked her, “Why did you marry me?”

“Hmm?”

“Why would you marry someone like me?”

“Why, husband? Are you regretting your decision so soon?” she chuckled before continuing, “Did I tell you how I came to be with the coven?”

He leaned forward, eager to hear her.

“I was what covens call a hedge-witch. I had no coven and no place to call home. So, a few hundred years ago I decided to lay down roots, to create my own home after wandering for centuries. That’s when I came across Greendale. There was something drawing me here so I followed that pull and built this house. But it wasn’t until the coven was faced by pagans that the other hedge-witches and I were included in their coven, in their little family. The point is that I sensed a deep loneliness and longing within you, something I had felt myself for a long time and no one deserves to feel like that, which is why I married you.”

He was silent after my revelation and the rest of the bath passed by in relative silence.

After an hour of moisturizing, conditioning and massaging her new groom the bath water was drained and she wrapped him in a fluffy towel-robe. (She may have lived in the forest but she was not a heathen.) She told him that she was going down to the kitchen to prepare something for his injuries and that he was welcome to join her.

So there he was, sat at her kitchen table, watching her flutter around the kitchen grabbing bottles, plucking leaves from the potted plants, mixing, grinding and chopping while humming under her breath.

He simply watched her motions, intrigued by her mundane activities.

She turned to him, smiling and wrapped his wounds in gauze. Smothering his wounds in the green colored paste she warned him that the medicine would sting but he sat there, unflinching at her ministrations.

She paid special attention to the wounds on his feet which he no doubt incurred while on his long, tiring journey.

After bandaging him up she prepared a hearty stew with vegetables, meat and bread. They sat at her kitchen counter, side-by-side partaking in the delicious spread. He polished off his bowl in record time and was offered a second helping, which he graciously accepted.

After centuries of wandering the cosmos he felt...not angry. Well, not as angry as he used to feel. He felt warm in his chest. Was this what being cared for felt like?

After she they were sated she smiled tiredly at him before escorting him to her bedroom. She’d made it clear that she was tired from the events of the day and thus did not feel up to consummating their marriage.

He protested, at the beginning but eventually gave in, agreeing that his wounds should heal before he spent intimate time with his new wife.

They laid on her bed, side-by-side with their hands intertwined and talked to each other. Both wanting to know more about their new spouse.

He told her about his journey through the cosmos and how everything came to be and she told him about her life on Earth, her love for plants and the friends she had made through her life.

“Why did you not cut my hair?”

“Hmm?”

“A man called Blackwood cut my hair before sending me to your friend’s wedding. Why didn’t you?”

“You’re going to find this silly, but I find men with long hair particularly enticing.”

“Is that so?”

“It is, dear groom.”

“Well, I find women who bloom flowers particularly enticing as well.”

Hearing this, she grew a red chrysanthemum and gave it to him before she closed her eyes and went to sleep.

The uninvited twirled the flower between his fingers before gripping the stem tightly, hoping to preserve it, and went to sleep.

For once his sleep was comfortable and warm. His heart was full and so was his stomach, all thanks to the little witch that laid by his side, who looked past his exterior and saw the lonely tortured soul hidden deep within.

#The uninvited x reader #the uninvited #caos #caos fic #caos x reader #chilling adventures of sabrina #sabrina spellman #sabrina netflix #Eldritch terror #Second Eldritch Terror #Eldritch terror x reader

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