#( moon is the angel in mercy's life ) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

slickchickchocolatier · 5 months

Text

H I S M A R K : H E E T H A N

WARNINGS: SMUT (UNPROTECTED), DUBCON TO NONCON SMUT, OVERSTIMULATION, SYMBOLISM, MARKINGS, YANDERE LOVE, OBSESSION, POSSESSIVE, MENTIONS OF MURDER, MISSING PERSON, FORCED LOVE, ISOLATION, CURSING, RESTRAINING, SOLITARY CONFINEMENT, HATE SEX, ANGRY SEX, MAYBE MAKEUP SEX, NOT PROOREAD (YET).

NOTE: THIS TAKES PLACE RIGHT BEFORE THE LATEST EVENTS OF HHP.

‘Let me tell you a story…

It is a tale that takes place before God created angels, and the continents spoke in ancient dialect.

Less stars filled the night sky, and the planets lingered in a straight line. Mortals in their youth stared and admired these stars, and drafted tales based on their alignment. Stories of The Big Dipper, and Orions Belt came to life, fulfilling philosophers with ideas and astronomers with hope. Amongst these glittering specters, was the Goddess of the Moon.

Unlike those around her, she laid in lonesome silence, and invisible to all who stared at the sky. Residing in her shadowed kingdom, she cries out of sorrow, for no light emerged from her home. In truth, she was nothing but the queen of a shallow orbit, despaired at the thought of mortals never witnessing her presence.

One day, while traveling in his usual circuit to warmthe earth, the Sun God appeared, crossing paths with the pitiful Moon. Seeing her in distress, he asks her delicately…

“Pretty Moon, why do you cry?”

Tilting her chin up, she bestows a wet, wide-eyed stare, and tells him. “I am invisible…I have no light. I lay amongst the twinkling of stars who shine brightly without effort, and witness tales created in their honor…I cannot make light of my own, therefore man will never witness my glory.”

The Sun God looks down at the dreadful Goddess, sympathizing with her. To provide comfort, he gives her a solution, by telling her to use his own light to generate her own. He shines brightly and warms her gray kingdom. “Shine bright, my beauty. For you will no longer be ignored by anyone. Let me warm you with my rays, and may you glow brighter than anything in the universe.”

Just as the Sun God promised through his aid, the Moon Goddess shined brightly. She glowed brighter than any star in the sky, and was called the “Sun of the night”.

As the hours of the day rotate, the Moon stationed herself in the middle of the darkened sky, only to find that she went back to being an invisible silhouette again. Seeking his help, she pleads to the merciful Sun; his response gave her gratification once more.

“Pretty Moon, don’t you worry. I will always make you shine and glow. Everyone in the world will know of your beauty. They will use your presence as a guide in the darkness…all you need to do is to commit yourself to me. Never leave my side and use my light to make ‘our’ light. Be a part of me forever…”

The Moon, not withstanding the thought of being invisible any longer, did as the Sun bids her…and each night, she shone brightly than the last.

But as time went by, she soon learned, that no matter how glorious she appeared, everyone could see that she was only as beautiful as the Sun would allow her to be. Mortals spoke and philosophically determined her reliance to the Sun, configuring that her existence could only be due to him.

Shamed at the thought of losing her independence as the Queen of the night, and becoming a slave to the Sun God.

Refusing to end the long line of matriarchal reign, the Moon tries to distance herself from the Sun’s grasp, yearning to gain the freedom she once had…but it was too late.

“Pretty Moon you can’t escape. Don’t you see? Without me, you cannot brighten the dark sky…leaving me means to leave the entire world in darkness. Stay with me and never leave again, and I will ensure that you shine brighter than ever.”

For centuries, the Moon rested in the shackles of the suns rays, finding it impossible to leave. Craving his light, she feeds off his hand and thus lived off of him. The Moon accepted her fate; without him, she would cease to exist…

Without him…she cannot produce light….

Without her Sun…she is nothing. And so, by his side she stays…forever holding back tears of regret. With a permanent smile edged on her surface, mortals are fooled by her perfected glow. Just as she had wanted, tales of her glory did emerge, yet always paired with her husband, the Sun.

“I am forever stuck here. I can never leave…I can never go back home….the Sun has his grasp on me and I won’t ever be the same again…for centuries I have been stationed this side….even during the day. They see my hallow form in daylight, not realizing that I am left with no choice…I am left with no say….for thousands of years he has kept me…and for thousands more, he will.”

Oh, to be the Diamond in the Sky….what an eternal price to pay…’

………………

This week had been the worst…followed by the last, and even the one before that. Was it just a twist of fate? Or perhaps it was something in the atmosphere. There was no way in telling, all you could figure was that each time you tried to make up with him, he pushed you further over the edge.

It has been over a year since you and Heeseung started dating. Despite the atrocities that occurred, such as the one with Samuel, or Tiff and Scott, you both lived blissfully in each other’s presence…just you and Heeseung.

It didn’t take long for people to see the rather unusual circumstance of your relationship with him. Just days after you became his, it became well known that you were strictly off limits…and by strictly, you mean that had anyone so much as looked your way, they would meet a very unpleasant meeting. Sometimes, though you have yet to substantiate it yourself, but you were quite certain by the disappearance of some who took interest, that they may even have met with death at his hand.

Of course with his family connections and the corruption they stirred in the city, any case that raised eyebrows always came to an unsolved end without any leads. The last time you inquired about a certain classmate, who miraculously disappeared after he approached and handed you a note that read…

‘I won’t tell if you don’t. ;)’

Of course, had he had enough brains to hand you the note aside and not in front of Heeseung’s car, he might have still been around. Had he any brains at all, he would have refrained from even seeking any prospective relation with you since you were claimed by “Ethan the Heathen”, or so they called him by.

You knew his level of love for you extended past what was considered normal, and sane. But it didn’t mean that innocent people should get hurt, all because of you. You figured that since he placed you above all, even himself, it may have earned you leeway in talking to him, perhaps even bringing the toxicity down a bit. But just as you inquired about the missing male, he accused you of loving him less. He further provoked you by claiming that your inquiry of another man’s whereabouts was unwarranted and that the only one you should ever think about, was him.

How could he ever speak to you in such a manner?

Perhaps you were at fault…since the very beginning, you knew of his crazed obsession with you. Not only were you aware…you liked it.

Many people would think you’re crazy if they ever heard you say it aloud, and rightfully so. Unlike those around you, they will never know this feeling of belonging to one person, who out of their own selfish love for you, suppresses you in isolation. Detaching you from the world, and safekeeping you for their own pleasure, they beat and pass deathly judgement onto those who touch you, those who try and hurt you. It was a sinful feeling of danger and adventure, and despite wanting him to do things right and in a rational sense, you’d be lying if you told others that his malicious insanity didn’t make you feel most loved.

But you knew it was wrong…and you couldn’t live the rest of your life being a death trap for others.

You denied that he had done anything extensive, but at the accidental discovery of bloodied clothes, kerosene, shovels, and potential weapons, all tucked away in a false wall within the closet, you developed the worst of fears.

……

“I just think that…maybe you could relax a little bit. I am always going to be here with you.” You initiate the conversation…again. Much to his annoyance. “Don’t you think you’re being a bit too crazy? Plus, it would be nice if I could leave the room and go to the store or cafe by myself from time to time. I wouldn’t mind being treated like a human being, and not so much as a dog kept in a cage.”

You knew you were crossing the line, and surely you expected for him to give out one of usual punishments of locking you away for hours, chained or tied to one of the heavy upholsteries inside the room, sometimes nude or barely dressed in undergarments. Then of course, when he was really angered by your abhorrence, he took it up a step further from lessons learned through solitary confinement, and subjected you to derogatory acts that resulted in him demeaning you, physically and mentally, and breaking your spirit.

Strange…how one man could make you feel the most love, and yet at the same time, make you feel most ignored and even hated.

“Whenever you’re good, why can’t you just stay that way?” He’d snap out, hissing his tongue as he corners you, pressing your frame into a cowering stance as you kneel before him. “Why can’t you just fucking see how much I love you…it should be obvious by now.”

You argued back that there was no doubt that his love for you was present, and that you appreciated his gestures and the strength of his desire for you…it’s just…

“It’s just—I just want us to be a normal couple. Sometimes you really scare me, and I don’t know how to live with you when you display that side of you…that side that almost seems murderous.”

Instantly you regretted being so upfront. The moment he took your wrist, you regretted it even more.

“I’m so done fighting, get over here!” He spits out as he drags you away. Immediately, you realize he intended on chaining you up again, locking you away while he would ignore and leave you for God knows how long. It always drove you crazy with how lonely you’d become. He’d take away your phone, silence your screams through whatever gag-suppressing method he intended to use, and would even drug you to sleep by forcing a sleeping pill, or two, or sometimes opted for a natural sedative such as melatonin infused tea. It all depended how angry you got him, and right now, he was up there.

“No—stop! No more!” You yell out. It’s too bad you decided to pick today to argue, as his sorority brothers all left for the weekend. In fact, almost everyone on campus did, except you. He wouldn’t let you leave, and since his own schedule didn’t permit him to take you, he kept you back with him. “I want to go home! I hate you!”

You screamed as loudly as you could, not caring if your words hurt or angered him. “One more fucking word and I swear to God, y/n!”

He throws you on the bed, kneeling as he meandered a strategic grip on your arm, attempting to tie you to the bed frame. He’d do so by tightening the ropes to be just taunting enough so that your hands could not meet, and another attached to a belted choker would be latched onto your neck.

He successfully gets one wrist coiled in, and straddles over you to do the next. “You hate me? Then fucking stay here and rot for all I care.”

Your eyes began to tear up as you watch him reach for the other rope. “Don’t worry, I’ll still love you—I can love you even from afar.” He laconically spits out as he attempts to grab hold of your free hand. Desperate to avoid being alone and tied mercilessly, you reach around his neck and pull him in.

“Don’t! Stop! Please don’t do this!”

He ignores your pleads as he attempts to raise his frame, but your hold on his neck brings you up with him. He reaches up and tries to peel your arm off, and nearly succeeded effortlessly had it not been you regaining a grip on his jacket collar.

“Don’t do this…don’t leave me, I need you.” Your voice calls as you feel yourself on the verge of breaking down. Yes, you took on a tone of defeat, but if it meant that you weren’t facing lonely-induced depression, then you were willing to do anything. The sudden realization that you wanted him near you, to pay attention to you and to hold you was stronger now. “Please, don’t do this…I can’t be without you.” You cry into his neck as you held a python grip, embracing him as hard as you could.

He kept fighting with you, trying to break free from the single-arm embrace you had, but the softness of your voice and the pleading desire of needing him was starting to get to him. After all, he still loved you…and all he wanted, was for you to love him the way he understands it. It is brutal, irrational, non-sensible, and sadistic, but it was true love.

You cried into his throat and rubbed the tips of your fingers on the back of his nape. Feeling his tense body softened, you gained hope that he would be kind again. You truly were sorry…in the breach of his harsh punishment, you were left with no choice but to feel remorse. Through the guilt of spitting such terrible words, you realized more than ever that you couldn’t survive without him. What would have happened had he not been there to stop Samuel? What about Scott, and Tiff?

“Please…” you sobbed. Feeling his body growing dense against you, it encouraged for you to initiate the movements of passion as you waved your hips up and down, grinding against his groin. Nearly instantaneously, his cock hardens above and yearned to break free from the cloth.

“Please…Heeseung. I’m sorry…Im just scared…scared and nervous.”

You weren’t lying, you truly were scared, but the claim of being nervous wasn’t entirely so. You just knew him so well that had you said the right things, you could turn his mood around in a flick of an instant. Quicker than two fingers snapping. “I just don’t want anyone to break us apart…I’m scared of losing you.”

He raises his head, and you loosened your embrace as you felt him creating distance, not out of spite, but to relay sweet words. “You don’t have anything to be afraid of…not even me…” he gently takes your hand, while reaching for the rope. Damn he was so stubborn. Was he really intending on still tying you up? You committed another desperate move as you quickly raise your face to meet his, and there you kiss him. Initially, he wouldn’t let you in, but feeling your breath coating his lips, and the more your hips grinds against him, he falters. Finally…he kisses you.

“What do I have to do to prove to you that I’m sorry? Isn’t there anything I could do than to be locked away?” You breathed against his mouth once more, speaking softly as your tongue gently massages his. “Don’t you want me to be close to you anyhow? Wouldn’t you rather be locked away with me? Just the two of us…away from it all? Heeseung?”

Your hips begin to gyrate as that familiar tingle blisters beneath your pelvic muscles. You pick up the pace just a little more, and wrap a leg around his hips. “Heeseung…please…please touch me.”

You begged. He was staying strong in trying to refuse your advances, but seeing how much you yearned for him…it’s all he’s ever wanted and loved on this earth. Staying silent and stoic, he tries and stays strong, but your tenacity is breaking him piece by piece. God…why did you have to put on your bedroom voice…why did you have to move into him the way you were right now…why did you have to kiss him and tell him that you needed him.

“Heeseung please…please touch me. Fuck me…do everything to me.” You moaned out the last bit and that did it for him. Despite being angry with you, he could never resist your obedient nature.

He squares his face with yours, gripping onto your neck, a little more tighter than usual. “Tell me you need me.” His voice was dark and heavy, a bit husky as he clenched his jaw and gritted his teeth. He as still angry.

“I need you.” You whined, licking his throat with the very tip of your tongue, barely making contact. Had his grip on your throat not pinned you down to the pillow, you would have completely swallowed in skin, lacing his Adams apple with your saliva.

“Tell me you love me—“ his grip snaps tightly, knotting your airway. You slightly gasp as he jerks his grip and squeezes. You choked out the words as you looked pitifully in his eyes. “I-I….l-l-love….you-!”

You coughed up the air flowing back into your lungs as he releases his grip. He comes to a kneeling stance and releases the other rope, but does not untie the one already latched to you. He removes his cap and flings it to the floor, followed by stretching his abdominal muscles while he reaches overhead and peels his shirt off. Your free hand latches onto his belt, attempting to loosen it, only for his hands to slap it away. “No—I’m still pissed off at you.” He hisses as he undoes the buckle and zipper of his trousers. Pulling them a quarter way down, along with his briefs, he slides his pants down just enough for his lengthy cock to poke out freely, testicles included.

He leans back in, hovering on her as he extends an arm and props it next to your head, while the other lines his tip directly at your entrance. You could tell that by his nature, he wasn’t going to be as cementing as he would have been, and this been a punishable act, but not entirely loving. It was going to be a little of both.

“Fuck you…y/n.” Was all he said before leaning his head down and aggressively kissing you. Ramming himself in, he thrusts his cock inside, forcing it past un-prepped tissue and muscle as you felt yourself tearing. You help into his mouth, screaming eternally as he swallows it all. He wouldn’t let your mouth break free, in fact each time you moved your head away, his mouth remained latched on and his face trailed your every movement. You felt the flaring of his nostrils as he chalked harshly against your skin while thrusting deeper and deeper. Once he hit bottom, he strung it out rather fast, before rampaging into you at inhuman speed and momentum. You could feel it…the slight bit of blood and skin ripping apart until finally your body responds, producing a hint of moisture, which allowed him to slide in easily. The subtle curve of his length formed a C-shape, allowing the tip to easily find the soft button deep inside. Each time he thrusted in, his tip poked it, causing it to leak your orgasm little by little.

Squelching, squeezing, and slipping in and out, his movements became faster and more pungent as you kept leaking. From blood and pain comes perfection, and that’s where you were at right now.

“Ah! Ffffffuck! Oh my God—!” You gasp out, screaming and moaning as he kept fucking into you. You spew out your moans into his mouth as he restricted your breathing, by permanently enveloping your lips into a kiss that felt eternal.

Deeper and deeper, he digs in. Grunting and growling against your tongue. He adjust his position by extending both arms, propping his chest up to grant just a bit of space between you two. You gasp and moan, mouth wide open and tongue sticking out as he continued to fuck you senseless and numb. Sticking out his own tongue, he licks the flat surface of your own before swallowing your mouth into another prolonged kiss.

“Please—!!! Oh fuck! Heeseung!!” Your desperate cries only provoked him to keep going, to the point where the stimulation stayed past its welcome, and it became blisteringly painful.

“Sssstop! N-no—no more!” You begged, yearning for mercy. How much longer could this man go? How could he always have so much stamina and vigor in his body?

“Come on y/n…keep screaming…make me fucking cum!” He grunts as he swallows a kiss one final time, before plunging deep inside and filling you. So much, you felt the secretion of his fluids rimming out as his cock pulsed, his balls kissing your soft taint.

Your chest heaves, and you gasp for air as your free hair slaps onto his bicep. Your restrained wrist develops rope burn from all the friction of movement. Suddenly you felt the soft touch of his fingers, gently pinching your chin as he forced you to face him. A small glare from your eye greets the gaze of none other than—

“E..Ethan?”

He smirks maliciously. His usual psychotic stare reeks of a sinister intention as he bites down his lip, chuckling as he slurps in the excess saliva. “Miss me?”

You didn’t have the chance to put the moves on him as you did with his softer side…though you could hardly deem him soft to begin with. But compared to Ethan, anything was soft, even hard steel.

“Oh no wait—you could have missed me because….what was it that you said earlier?” He taps his fingertips along the center of your chest, spider crawling them upwards until he establishes a grip around your neck. “You hate me…RIIIIIIGHT? BABYDOLL?”

Your eyes are widen in fear as you attempt to scream but his offensive lips re-engages you to a lengthy kiss…own that contained the loudest of all your screams.

“Please! Stop! I’m sorry! I-I didn’t mean it! You know I don’t hate you, Ethan—“

His dark giggle halts your pleads. “I know…and don’t worry—“ licking a teardrop from your cheek, he whispers into your ear. “By the end of this, you just might hate me. But never to fear…I’m always going to love you…and that’s all that matters right now.”

He lines himself, centered to your soft flesh. “Got a surprise for you after this…”

“W-what….what are you—?”

“Shhh….you’ll see…”

……..

“Y/n! When did you get this?” H/n takes on an exciting tone as she notices the small mark located behind your ear. You tied your hair into a high piney tail, allowing the subtle tattoo to gain some air to help the healing process. “Over the weekend…” you softly spoke. An emotionless expression graces your face as you stare at the blackboard ahead, eyes tracing the white chalked equation your professor drafted. The beating pain from between your thighs sets a reminder of words you could never use against him…ever again.

As per usual, he waits by the curb, already standing outside his car as you walk outside. A part of you happy to see him, while the other half resented him for the pleasure he bestowed you…with pain.

“Hi pretty baby, how was class?”

He cups both sides of your neck, placing a kiss on your forehead. He tilts his head to the side, admiring his mark on you. “It’s healing well. Good.” He smirks against your forehead.

You embrace him in return. You love him…and you can’t live without him. Though you’re not sure if that was by your own willingness or if he has broken you down so many times, rebuilding and training you to rely on him…just him.

You look up and admire the dark look in his eye. Yeah…you do love him.

Reaching up, you delicately tuck some of his shaggy hair away from his cheek, the rest remained pinched against his forehead from the baseball cap adorning his head. In plain sight behind his ear, was the sun. It healed completely.

“My pretty moon loves her sun?” He asked you’d you, gripping your neck subtly as he leans into kiss your lips. “Hmm…yes….”

I must always have…the sun.

#heeseung x reader #heeseung scenarios #heeseung smut #enha x reader #heeseung hard hours #heeseung hard thoughts #heeseung fanfic #enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #enha heeseung #yandere heeseung imagines #heeseung yandere #yandere imagines #yandere enha #yandere enhypen #heeseung imagine #heeseung imagines

273 notes · View notes

cherrixberri · 6 months

Text

Lipstick Stains

synopsis: It wasn't often that Gojo gave you full control, so when he gives you the opportunity to tie him down you jump on it.

feat.: Gojo Satoru x afab!fem!reader [established relationship]

warnings: 18+ content/smut; light bondage [Gojo gets tied down]; reader wears make-up; orgasm denial/delay; unprotected sex; p in v sex; creampie; blowjobs; riding; multiple orgasms [Gojo]; praising [both reader and Gojo receiving]; pet names [angel, baby]; body worship [Gojo receiving]

w.c.: 3.7k

a/n: Not much to say besides I think Gojo deserves to be teased for once. banner by @/benkeibear

Minors and Ageless blogs will be blocked.

Easily one of the most beautiful sights you'd ever laid eyes on was the sight of Gojo Satoru with his hands tied to the headboard of your shared king-sized bed, fully at your mercy.

His long, lean body was stretched out along the bed, wrists wrapped in black silk rope and secured tightly above his head. He was naked except for his navy boxer briefs and you could clearly see the outline of his half hard cock as it started to stir. His blindfold that usually held his hair back had been discarded with the rest of his clothes, leaving his gorgeous blue eyes on display for you.

The view alone was enough to make you want to drool and you could already feel yourself starting to get wet. Having the strongest sorcerer laid out in front of you, all for you to tease and toy with as you please was a heady feeling.

"Like what you see, angel?" Gojo smirks up at you from the mound of pillows his head and neck were resting against. He wiggles his body a bit, as if to put on a show for you.

"I do," you purr back, leaning over him and brushing his soft white hair back from his forehead before leaving a kiss above his brows. "You're so pretty like this 'Toru." You leave another peck right at the corner of his mouth. He goes to turn his head to fully connect his lips with yours but you pull away before he can, causing him to pout. You gently rub at his bottom lip with your thumb to soothe it away.

"You remember your safeword, right?"

"Why, you gonna make me use it?" He waggles his eyebrows playfully at you, causing you to roll your eyes and smack his arm lightly.

"I don't plan on it, but I don't want to hurt you on accident." He seemed relaxed enough, but you knew better. He was a little more fidgety than normal, stretching and flexing his muscles against the bindings on his wrists. He was nervous, and you could understand why. Gojo was so use to having infinity up, use to being untouchable unless he willed it, that the experience of allowing himself to be completely vulnerable to touch would be out of his element.

The both of you were no strangers to intimacy, and you had a good sex life, but you'd never restrained him during the act before. Normally, he was the one more in control when it came to sex, and never gave you the same opportunity to worship his body with touch the same way he worshiped yours. So when you joked about tying him down one evening where he was being particularly handsy, and you caught a flash of interest in his eye, you jumped on the opportunity to make it a reality, and was over the moon when he agreed.

You lean back over him to give him a peck directly on his lips, his own going to chase yours as you pull away. He huffs.

"Safe word, Satoru."

It's his turn to roll his eyes. "Red."

"Good boy." You whisper as you return your lips to his, giving him the proper kiss he'd been craving. You lick along the seam of his mouth and he opens willingly, allowing your tongue to slip in to play with his. Letting out a small moan, Gojo tilts his head, asking you to deepen the kiss. You swipe your tongue deeper in his mouth before going to pull away, your teeth catching his bottom lip and giving it one last tug as you break the connection.

Gojo lets out a displeased noise and squirms on the bed. "Angel please, want more of your lips." You smile down at him and give the tip of his nose a small kiss before climbing off the bed completely. Confusion flashes across his face as he watches you walk away.

"Wait, where are you going?" He calls after you as you enter your en suite bathroom. You peak back around the corner and give him a soft smile.

"I'll be just a moment. Be patient for me, baby." You hear him grumble from your bedroom and you smirk. Serves him right for all the times he teased you. It was about time you gave him a taste of his own medicine.

You strip out of your shirt and pajama pants, leaving you in nothing but your light blue panties. They were Gojo's favorite on you, a shear lace with a cute little white bow on the front.

Eyes searching the counter, you find your makeup bag and begin going through it until you find your favorite lipstick. You pull it out and give your lips a good coating. You pout your lips in the mirror, making sure they're completely covered and also to buy yourself a little time. You wanted to tease him, letting him lay there in bed anticipating your return.

When you walk back into your bedroom, he's stretching, back arching off the bed and putting his lean body on display. Once he relaxes himself back on the bed, he looks over and notices you standing in the doorway. Gojo's eyes widen briefly, taking in the newly revealed flesh of your thighs and making their way further up your body. His eyes darken when he sees your panties and your newly applied lipstick.

"Like what you see?" Echoing him, you grin as you slowly make your way over to the bed and climb on. You drop your lipstick to the side of his body.

"Yeah," he says, licking his lips and watching your every move with lidded eyes. His cock is now almost fully hard in his underwear, starting to strain against the fabric. To tease him, you straddle over his hips but keep your thighs spread just far enough to not actually touch his skin with yours. Gojo juts his hips up to meet yours, and you push your hand down on his pelvis, forcing him back onto the bed.

"Uh-uh, behave baby. Just lay back and relax." Leaning forward you ghost your lips against his before cupping his face and turning his head to the side, giving you full access to his neck. You press your lips to the corner of his jaw, leaving a perfect imprint of your lips on his skin. Making your way down the expanse of his neck, you litter it with kiss prints. Gojo shivers as you drag your fingertips up and down his sides, teasing the soft skin beneath them.

You press a kiss to hollow of his throat before descending further down to his collarbones. Instead of a soft kiss, you gently nibble on the skin, causing Gojo to let out a soft hiss and arch his back slightly, his head falling back into the pillows. Once you're content that your bite will leave a bruise, you sit back to admire your handiwork so far.

Gojo looks up at your with blown wide pupils, head still turned to the side, the lip prints leaving a colorful trail on his pale skin. His chest rising and falling with deep breathes. You finally settle your hips down on his, earning a soft moan from him as your warm cunt rests against his hard cock. Your hips slowly grind against him as you gently rake your nails against his sides and over his abs, feeling his muscles tense and relax under your ministrations.

"Look at you, 'Toru, you're so pretty like this." His breath hitches and you feel his dick twitch through both your underwear. You can't help the smirk that comes over your lips. "Aww, do you like it when I call you pretty, baby?" You coo, leaning forward and kissing his mouth. He answers you with a whimper and a small thrust upwards.

You break the kiss and and run your hand through his hair, pushing his bangs that were sticking to his forehead with a light layer of sweat back. "So handsome." You whisper down at him reverently. He closes his eyes, turning his head away from you and into his arm to avoid your gaze. You card your fingers through his hair and tug, forcing him to look back at you. He moans.

"Angel, please don't tease me."

"I see how it is, you can dish it but you can't take it." Rocking your hips forward, you drag your pussy against him, feeling your wetness starting to seep through your panties.

"F-fuck," he throws his head back and grinds his cock into your warmth. Tutting at him, you lift your hips off from him, causing him to whimper and kick out his legs in frustration.

"I told you to behave for me, Satoru. Be a good boy and let me take care of you." You slide your body further down his to where your face was even with his chest that was rising and falling faster. "Keep your eyes on me."

Gojo swallows thickly and nods his head, watching as you grab the discarded lipstick and apply a new coat before bringing your lips down, leaving a kiss in the center of his chest. You slide your hands up his torso, cupping his pecs and softly massaging them as you continue to scatter kisses along his torso. Slowly, you swipe your thumbs across his nipples, Gojo's chest arching up into your touch as small appreciative noises fall from his mouth.

You smirk and bring your lips over to one, nipping at it. Gojo lets out a startled sound and jerks. In apology, you leave a tender kiss to the abused bud before descending your body and lips lower down him, leaving a trail of lip prints as you go. His eyes follow you the entire time, focused your lips as they press against his skin.

Leaving a kiss right under his belly button, your fingers hook into the waist band of his underwear. Gojo eagerly lifts his hips for you and you tug them off his long legs, leaving him completely naked for you. Gojo lets out a sigh as his hard cock is freed, watching as it slaps against his lower belly, leaving a smear of precum against his skin.

Hands on his thighs, you use them to spread his legs out to make room for yourself to lay between them. Slowly your trace your fingers up and down the sensitive skin of his inner thighs.

"S-shit angel, l-look so beautiful next to my cock." He props one of his legs up, bent at the knee. "Bet your lipstick would look real pretty on it." He slyly grins down at you as you continue to trace patterns into his skin.

"Hmmm, I don't know 'Toru. I don't think the color goes with your tip at all." You coyly fire back as you bring your lips to the thigh he has propped up, slowly beginning to kiss your way down it, closer and closer to his cock. His eyes never leave you, breath quickening the closer you get to his dick.

"Only one way to find out," he rasps out as your lips kiss barely an inch away from his base, thick cock twitching in anticipation.

"Maybe later." You pull your mouth away from his body and sit up between his thighs.

"You're being so fucking mean to me." Gojo says, throwing his head back against the pillows, his wrists straining against the bindings keeping them secured against the headboard. His whole body felt like it was on fire. You coo soothingly at him and rub your hands up and down his legs before bringing one of your fingers up to trace from his leaking tip down to the base, causing his body to jerk. You spit in your hand before firmly grabbing the base of his cock and starting to tug.

"F-fuck-"

"You must like it when I'm being mean to you 'Toru. You're practically leaking for me." On the upstroke of his cock you bring your thumb up to press into his slit, gathering more precum to smear along his length to help your hand glide against him. You twist your hand up and down slowly, watching his body buck and feeling his cock twitch with need. Listening to all his moans and whines, you could feel yourself starting to get wetter, pressing your legs together as you could feel your clit starting to throb.

You can see his lipstick covered abs twitch, kiss marks rippling with each movement of his body. Oh, he was a sight to behold. Beautiful blue eyes glazing over with need and his lean body stretched taught like a bow string, the evidence of your kisses scattered all over his soft skin. His strong chest rising and falling rapidly with the pants he was gasping for in between his moans. His eyes met yours and you watched his throat bob as he swallowed. "A-angel, p-please, 'm so close."

"Is my pretty boy gonna cum?" You maintain the speed of your strokes, feeling his thick cock starting to throb in your palm.

"Y-yeah, gon' cum." His hips start to buck up faster, and you let him chase his orgasm for a little longer. His legs start to shake, thrusts becoming erratic as he fucks himself into your fist and his body arches off the bed. Once you know he's about to tip over the edge, your remove your hands from him, watching as his body thrashes in confusion, thrusting up into nothing in a failed attempt for friction.

Gojo lets out a strangled moan as his body falls back against the bed, chest heaving as he registers what happened. He glares at you from under his white lashes as he catches his breath. You smile down at him sweetly before leaning up and giving him a kiss to his forehead.

"Th-that- was fucking- evil." He pants out, cock bobbing against his lower abdomen, begging for release.

"I know baby, but you're so pretty when you're desperate." Your hand comes to wrap him again and he groans at the feel of your warm hand on his cock. "If you're a good boy and ask me nicely, I'll suck your cock."

Gojo pouts at you. "First you deny my orgasm and now you want me to beg?"

"C'mon 'Toru. Be good for me? Didn't you want to see my lipstick on your cock earlier?" You purr at him, watching the conflict in his eyes. He was so angry at you for ruining his orgasm like that, but the thought of your pretty colored lips on him might just be what he needs to forgive you. He decides to swallow his pride.

"Angel, please?" He begs, thrusting his hips up slightly towards you. You give him a stern look, waiting for him to finish. "Pretty please will you suck my cock?"

"What a good boy, asking me so nicely." You move yourself to lay between his thighs before blowing on his tip. Gojo cranes his neck to see you and watches as you pull his dick toward your mouth, kissing to the side of it, leaving a kiss print for him to see. You giggle, "You were right 'Toru, the color does look nice on your cock."

He groans low in the back of his throat and you continue kissing down one side of his length before starting up the other, one of your hands going down to gently cup and fondle his balls. You kiss your way back up to his tip and loll out your tongue, dragging it on the underside of his angry red head before running the tip of it up his slit. You lick up the precum weeping out of it, tasting it on your tongue and letting out a small moan of your own at the taste.

You look up to catch his gaze, blue irises a barely visible ring around his blown out pupils, and after giving his tip one last kiss, you open your mouth fully and slide it down his cock.

"Holy f-fuck. F-fuuuuck, you feel so good, angel." He moans and you feel his hips stuttering, trying to stop himself from fucking his cock further into your throat. You keep one of your hands at the base of his cock, stroking the part of him you can't fit fully into your mouth while the other comes up to try and keep his hips from thrusting up.

Your heads bobs up and down his length, and you let out little moans, knowing the vibration of your mouth around his cock would only drive him closer. Giving up on restraining his hips, you sneak one hand down below to finally touch yourself. You moan loudly as your fingers come to rub small lazy circles against your neglected clit, causing Gojo to thrust himself up into your mouth, almost chocking you.

"God your s' fuckin' hot," Gojo moans, " angel, 'm close again. Lemme cum- please lemme cum this time? 'm being good, yeah? Bein' so good for you- fuu-ck so close." His legs begin to tremble and shake around you, and you could feel his cock throb with every heartbeat. Popping your head off his cock, you let the strand of spit mixed with his precum break and fall against your chin.

"Cum for me 'Toru, wan' you to cum down my throat," You quickly take him back into your mouth, knowing he's only moments away from his orgasm. Taking a deep breath through your nose and relaxing your throat, you take as much of him into your mouth as you can.

Gojo's whole body tenses and releases just as quickly with a loud whine and babbles of praise for you as his orgasm hits him, causing him to shoot thick ropes of white down your throat. You swallow all of it before pulling off his cock with a obscene 'pop' noise, drool sliding down his lipstick smeared cock.

"S-hit, s-so good. Felt so g-goood," Gojo whines, head tipped back against the pillows as he tries to catch his breath.

While he's coming down from his high, you slide your soaked underwear down your legs and discard them to the side. Gojo looks back down as he feels you straddling him, then bites his lip as you take his half hard cock and line it up with your pussy.

"Angel, 'm still sensit- fuuuuuck," you slide down on his cock and whimper with him at the feeling of him inside you. Even not fully hard, he still gave you a pleasant stretch, the wetness of your throbbing cunt being slick enough for him to slide right in.

"Feel so good in me baby. S-so perfect." You give the both of you a moment to adjust, and you can feel his cock already hardening again inside you. You lean forward some, putting your hands on his chest for better leverage as you give an experimental bounce on him. "So greedy 'Toru. You jus' came and you're already hard again." You pull your hips up before slamming them back down again, establishing a fast pace.

"Pussy feels too good," he says around his whimpers, still sensitive from his last orgasm. "Not gon' last long, angel."

Neither were you, bringing your hand to rub against your sticky clit while you bounce on his cock. God he was so gorgeous beneath you like this, all marked up with your kisses and flushed red from fucking. If you could get a picture of him like this you would, but that could happen another time. Instead you lean down to kiss him, a gesture he accepts eagerly as you swallow each other's moans. You feel that familiar warm coil start to tighten in your belly, pulling away from his lips to whine.

"So close baby, jus' a little more. You feel so- shit- so good in me 'Toru. So good f'me." You babble, grinding your hips down against him. He grunts and you feel his legs shift beneath you and before you realize it he's thrusting up into you with hard deep strokes, causing you to cry out and let your head fall back.

You cum with a loud keen, body tensing and then slumping against his chest, rocking yourself on his cock as he hammers up into you, fucking you through your orgasm. Three, four thrusts after and he cums again, groaning as he releases what he has left in your wet cunt.

You both lay there for a moment, panting and basking in the after glow. You go to remove your head from the crook of his neck to untie his arms when you hear a 'snap' and feel his arms wrap around you, hands coming up to caress gently down your back.

"'Toru, why'd you break the rope? I was going to untie you." You pout against his skin.

"But that'd mean I'd slide out of you, and I don't wan' that." He murmurs against your hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. "You wanted me in you so bad, I'm gonna stay." He rocks his hips up into you for emphasis, causing you both to wince at the oversensitive feeling.

"But we're gross, we need to clean up," you say as you go to lift yourself off of him, but before you get too far he rolls you both over, trapping you underneath his body with his softening cock still inside you. "Baby, you're heavy. Get up." Despite your grumbling, you run your hand up his back to his neck and up through his hair, scratching lightly at his undercut, hearing him let out a little hum of acknowledgment.

"Five more minutes, I'm comfy." He sighs into your skin. You roll your eyes. It was never just five more minutes with him. Resigning yourself to your fate, you position your legs to be a little more comfortably wrapped around his waist, and sure enough, you hear him lightly start snoring. You continue to play with his hair until you feel yourself drift off to sleep with him, deciding not to care if the lipstick stains the sheets below.

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo smut #cherri writes

255 notes · View notes

ellitx · 2 months

Text

Chapter 19: The Lord's Will

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁

previous || next

art belongs to: srr_yo

word count: 3.9k

The storm was strong, harsh, and maddening. The tempestuous wind annihilated the entire city— from a strong wind to a ferocious cloudburst. It was similar to how the blue dragon attacked the city and everyone presumed that was the cause, but their assumptions drowned upon discovering it was not the Stormterror causing harm to all but Barbatos the Anemo Archon.

Aether wondered if Jean was aware that it was Venti who was causing all of this. And if she did, did he see him as Venti the Bard or Barbatos the Anemo Archon during his rampage?

Everyone cowered in fear witnessing the strong aura of an enraged unknown being. From the center of the plaza stood a young man clad in green carrying a damsel in his arms.

A pair of large angelic wings sprouted from his back, fluttering as feathers fell off and lifted him off the ground. Had he been the angel destined to calm the tempest storm of Mondstadt, everyone would have cheered. But that was far from Celestial.

His figure loomed. The moon’s radiant glow cast his youthful features yet all was daubed with nothing but fury. No one can approach or stop him. Not even the Knights of Favonius.

Not even Aether.

If one dares to approach him, they’d be thrown away like a measly rag doll. Aether could clearly see how his once bright eyes had turned dark and sinister. All that anger was pointed at him, warning him: “If you take a single step and take her from me, I will slaughter you.”

The crowds cowered, parents holding their children close and shielding them from the sharp gales, while others bowed, kneeling even, to honor and welcome the overwhelming presence of the Anemo Archon.

Aether, with his restricted strength and movement, turned and saw Jean from the distance. Her face was pale, her hands shaking and clutching tightly on her sword grip. He had never seen her so scared before. No, scared was not the right word.

She had mixed feelings of confusion, fear, and uneasiness.

But even as the Acting Grand Master, she’s ready to charge if the archon were to burst into another outrage.

But how ironic was it that she'd attack the nation’s god who protected them for thousands of years?

Everyone was scared, some were shocked. Not a single soul has the courage to speak.

“O winds that sweep o'er Mondstadt's land, hear my words, my fervent command. In the realm where skies and earth collide, a love blooms fierce, none can deride.” The archon’s voice was soft yet thundering, his words echoed and reached the city’s ears.

“This woman in my embrace, through day and night, she's my true lover, my cherished wife. A bond unbreakable, forged for life. So heed this warning: all who dare to cross the threshold of our lair, for should you trespass, face my might. Anemo's wrath shall take its flight.

No mercy shown. No quarter given. By my hand, your fate be driven. For love is fierce, and love is strong. And for her, I shall right all wrongs. Let these words echo through the skies, a proclamation, a love that ties. Respect our realm, and you'll be free. But disturb our love, face destiny."

With these proclamations, Venti's voice rang clear.

A declaration of love and fear. His power as an archon was blinded with love and obsession.

A warning to all who dared to defy.

Pray and obey. That’s the only rule if they wish to be alive.

And with those words, he vanished into the dark night sky, with only a few feathers left behind. The rain continued, pittering and pattering on the muddy floor. All sounds were muffled except Paimon’s cries which were crystal clear. Afraid and petrified by what happened, he mustered the strength to hush her cries. The only protection and safety he can offer from the god’s wrath.

—

“Is there a doctor here? Someone please help my brother!”

“There were so many casualties… Is this still a safe place for us to live?”

"I heard the Anemo Archon's wrath spared no one. The Knights of Favonius are overwhelmed, and there's chaos everywhere."

“Even the Church can’t help us…”

"I never thought I'd see the day when the Archon's protection turned into a storm of destruction.”

In the hallowed halls of the Knights of Favonius' headquarters, poignant cries of pain and resilience played out. The air was thick with the scent of antiseptic and hushed murmurs, as the knights moved with purpose, tending to the myriad wounds inflicted by the recent upheaval. In makeshift infirmaries, the wounded lay on cots, their faces etched with the agony of recent events.

Amidst the sea of suffering, the children and families sought refuge within the sturdy walls of the headquarters, clinging to one another for solace.

The knights worked tirelessly to mend both the physical and emotional wounds inflicted by the recent chaos.

“How are you doing, Aether?” Jean asked while washing the dressings that needed to be disinfected.

“I’m doing well, but it still hurts like a brick…” he offered a wry smile to her while his fingers caressed his bandaged neck.

“Please don’t push yourself. Rest as much as you can in here, however, the city is not in the best of state and our supplies may not be enough for everyone…” Jean heaved a sigh, putting aside the disinfected dressings. “It seems our headquarters won’t be able to accommodate any more patients. The Knights of Favonius and I are trying our best to find a secured shelter.”

“That bad, huh?” Aether frowned and leaned in, his torso bending forward, while his arms relaxed on his knees.

Jean nodded slowly, staring out at the grim surroundings.

"If we're lucky, perhaps when everything calms down, we'll rebuild the city..." she closed her eyes tightly, willing her thoughts away from despair.

“I’ve already sent the emergency message to Grand Master Varka,” a familiar voice popped into the room. They both turned to see Kaeya emerging from the door holding two cloth bags. “He has decided to send three teams to bring more rations and resources on their way back. He will also come with them on their journey back to Mondstadt.”

“Thank you, Kaeya.” The Acting Grand Master nodded appreciatively, taking the bag that had been placed on the bed next to Aether’s. He sat down, handing a portion of rations to the boy.

As dawn painted the sky in hues of hope, the headquarters stood as nothing but a shelter. Mondstadt was in a complete disaster. Multiple houses were destroyed, the plaza was a mess, and even the villagers living outside the city were affected tremendously.

The blonde traveler’s eyes flashed to the small figure lying on the bed. Recalling the previous night seriously made his head ache. Aether opted to take a good night’s rest.

—

A week has passed and the day is still the same. Rubbles and debris are still within everyone’s sight and it’s far from finished cleaning all the mess. All of the Knights were doing labor— not only that, but they also temporarily banned travelers from stepping within Mondstadt’s borders until further notice.

It’s too dangerous for non-citizens to visit when the catastrophe is still imminent. As much as Aether wants to help, Paimon and Barbara would scold him for his recklessness, urging him to prioritize his own safety over assisting others in such perilous circumstances.

He grouchily grumbled to himself, letting his mind drift somewhere else and possibly hoping an idea would flick the switch for him to do something. Laying on the bed will do no good, and he’s getting tired of nestling on the bed all day.

Although he could always fall asleep if he just stayed put and waited for his eyelids to droop. But he knew deep down inside, that waiting for this catastrophe to be over wasn’t the best way to go about things either.

Letting his mind meander in his headspace, he recalled Jean informing him of an update from the Grand Master. She was told their estimated time of arrival would be a week from now. They have contacted merchants from neighboring nations who will bring more rations to them so the knights can use them to sustain themselves while they wait. Some gave anonymous donations, gifting medicines, herbs, and bandages to aid in recovery efforts.

Since a week had already passed, he was certain more rations should arrive by tomorrow or maybe even today. At least there won’t be any hunger pangs for these people anymore. To witness the Grand Master still aiding the nation despite his lack of presence caught Aether’s interest. If he’s able to live up to those standards, then there’s no doubt he’ll do great things once he comes back. A flash of hope filled his heart, giving him a feeling of motivation. Hopefully, the news about the arrival of the Grand Master will lighten up everyone’s mood.

As much as he wants to join in helping the knights, he can’t neglect what is important to him as well. He knows Barbara nor Paimon wouldn’t approve of his idea. But if no one sees him, then there wouldn't be a problem.

It’s almost night time and everyone’s too preoccupied with healing the wounded.

Aether stirred from his bed, the call of restlessness drawing him. With quiet determination, he quietly left his room, ensuring his steps wouldn’t make a noise. Once he got through the front door, he made his way through the sleeping city streets, guided only by the dim glow of moonlight filtering through the clouds. His destination: the bell tower of the church.

His silhouette moved against the backdrop of the moonlit sky. With practiced ease, he scaled the rough walls of the church, his fingers finding purchase in the worn stone as he ascended higher and higher.

The chill of the night air brushed his skin as he continued climbing, each foothold bringing him closer to his destination. At last, he reached the towering bell tower, its shadow stretching out like a dark sentinel against the starry heavens. With a final push, he pulled himself up onto the narrow ledge, his breath coming in quick, ragged gasps.

Leaning against the pillar to take a breather, he wiped the sweat rolling down his forehead and turned around to admire the night sky. Though the past few days were packed with dread and anguish, the luminous light of the crescent moon almost had him forget his purpose for climbing all the way here to the top.

From his vantage point high above the city streets, he could see the familiar tower in the distance, its ominous presence casting a long shadow over the land. Aether’s golden eyes narrowed, searching for any signs of the god and his “lover” he claimed. The distance between them stretched out so far that his hope for spotting you from where he was was futile, just as he suspected.

Forcing away the uneasy feeling in his stomach, he turned his attention to the watch tower from the Knights’ headquarters. A silhouette moving caught his attention and Aether decided to return to his room lest he’d be caught by the knights lurking in the bell tower in the middle of the night.

—

Two weeks after the catastrophe, there was a small progress within the city. Several are still wounded yet they’re gradually recovering. The Knights utilized the Church for civilians who lost their homes and few kindhearted volunteers assisted the Knights and members of the Church to feed the displaced families.

Aether’s neck had already recovered, the mark was gone but the sensation of his perpetrator’s fingers still haunted him till this day. Caressing his neck brings bitterness within him he wasn’t able to save you from the god.

What if Venti, in a fit of rage or madness, had done something irreversible, something that could have harmed you irreparably? The mere thought sent a shiver down Aether's spine, and he vehemently shook his head, trying to dispel the dark imaginings that threatened to overwhelm him.

"No," he muttered to himself, his voice barely above a whisper. "Venti wouldn't do that. He couldn’t."

But deep down, beneath the layers of denial and hope, Aether harbored a nagging doubt. Even if Venti wouldn't physically harm you, the emotional toll of his actions could be just as devastating. And that was a truth Aether couldn't bear to face.

With a sigh, he stood up from his bed and began pacing around the room. He spotted some villagers going in and out of the city gate behind the thickly curtained windows. What struck his attention were the carriages loaded with debris, and people carrying some vegetables and fruits. Perhaps to make soup for those who are still recovering.

Somehow it stirred his heart a little to see the citizens still helping each other even after being scarred by disaster. Maybe they know it will bring more danger to move away from their homes right now, but they’re hoping for a miracle where everything will return to normal.

The majority of the food supplies were already eaten during the crisis and a lot of residents are starving. Yet there are still people who have gone through so much more difficult hardships than what he has to go through.

Staying inside will do no good. Aether strode to the door and opened it with determination, but the purpose of venturing crumbled to dust when a deaconess’s familiar blue optics glared at him.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Aether swallowed the lump sitting in his throat, a cold sweat threatening to unveil, as he evaded her skeptical glare. “Just going outside to take a breather,” he answered immediately.

Barbara’s frown wouldn’t expunge and he stood firmly in his place. When she took one big step, he panicked and backed off a little. If she continues walking forward, then there’s no turning back.

Thankfully, she stopped before him. She looked annoyed and then glanced at Paimon standing beside the door, munching on a piece of bread. Was she with Barbara all this time?

“He’s been stuck inside for a week. As long as he doesn’t do anything reckless, Paimon’s sure it’ll be fine.”

Barbara heaved a heavy sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose at Paimon’s nonchalant and indifferent behavior. Deciding to give in, she allowed Aether only on the condition he’d be back before it set.

She sure has gone stern with him but the kindness within her still remains pure. It didn’t take long for Aether to prepare. He only needed his sword and his flying companion. Barbara told him to bring some medicines in case he got wounded, but she hoped he’d return unscathed.

As Aether stood at the city gate, Paimon floated next to him, her eyes scanning the lush greenery beyond. The landscape seemed unchanged, yet subtle alterations were evident – barricades now dotted certain sections of the road, blocking any passage beyond the city limits.

The crops at Springvale Village lay sparse and withered, stark evidence of the devastation wrought by recent events. Despite the desolation, however, the villagers toiled tirelessly, their hands calloused and backs bent as they labored to revive the once-lush fields and replenish dwindling supplies. With each passing day, small signs of progress emerged amid the barren earth, a small glimpse of hope amidst the ruins.

Aether’s feet controlled his body, aimlessly wandering the prairie of the nation of the wind. Paimon was silent, quite unusual of her, but he didn’t ask her. She was lost in thought and so was he, but his mind drifted to the abducted maiden.

Paimon followed him along, sometimes leaving a few comments here and there not to go to the forest lest they’d be attacked by hilichurls.

He hadn’t realized they stopped at Stormterror’s lair. Before him was the ever-so-familiar wind barrier. It still kept him from entering further, a warning that the Anemo Archon and his dragon inhabited the empty land.

His body took over before his mind could stop him. He rushed and slammed his hand against the barrier, screaming at an empty space. “Venti, please! You don’t have to do all of these!! I know you’re a good person but if you lock [Name] there, it’s no longer freedom!”

No response. That couldn’t mean anything good. He pounded his fist again, the barrier rippling from the pressure, yet he felt nothing in return. Oddly, he heard something behind the barrier… But what?

Over and over, the traveler kept on banging, crying out for Venti to release you. Paimon watched in silence, her eyes darting to him and the tower as she feared what would happen next. The pain and the stress his actions brought into the fairy's mind might make her stop him at this instant, another unintended consequence that could lead them down a different path.

She closed her eyes, blocking out the reverberation of Aether's yells. He needed to be calm, she knew. All of this chaos and emotion were only building up more anger in Venti and she wouldn't want that.

They were starting to disturb the wind spirits who lived nearby. Eventually, the cry ceased after a long while and the emptiness returned. His palm burned red where it touched the barrier; only moments later did he realize how close he came to harming someone.

If only he wasn't damaged greatly, he'd still have time to save you. No, even if he was wounded, he should have been able to bring you back. How had things turned out like this? He wasn't prepared for anything of this sort. This... is not what you deserve.

"Aether… we should just go. Venti won’t even spare us a glance." Paimon pleaded.

"We can’t just leave [Name] there! What if something happens to her?" He shouted in return, glancing back at the pillar. It almost seemed as though she was holding her breath now, but she finally exhaled, turning to face him once more. "Stepping in again will make it even worse! Paimon will be devastated if Paimon loses you!" Her voice cracked, quivering and wavering betraying the fear and concern she struggled to contain.

She sniffled, averting her gaze as she wiped the tears off her cheeks with her arm. They know Venti has his own reasons for keeping you in there with him, but is that really the right way to treat you? More so, he abandoned his people after the mess he made.

Nothing will change if he stays in the tower and keeps you locked there with him.

Aether's hands slipped, knocking his forehead on the barrier’s surface. It was too much for him, trying to figure out what to do when he should be doing his best to stay alive himself.

There's nothing Venti will gain from it if they did so; perhaps nothing except for their— or worse, your— demise.

“Pardon me, but are you here to offer your prayers to the Anemo Archon as well?” A voice joined in, halting his silent mourns.

An old man who appeared out of nowhere drew near, seemingly unconcerned about their whereabouts. But they did not expect to see behind that man a flock of people holding bouquets of flowers, wines, and baskets of bread. Despite how dangerous the area is, they radiated in contrast to the gloomy atmosphere surrounding them.

"What the...?" Paimon muttered as one of the old men set down his offerings near the barriers. He made eye contact with Paimon and she offered him a wry smile, watching everyone follow along the man's gesture to place down their gifts on the other side of the wall on what seemed to be like a shrine. Was that there all along?

A robed priest walked towards the shrine, chanting and making prayer gestures. It was clearly evident from their actions that these were believers, using the lair as a sacred place of worship that those who visited hoped to receive some form of blessing.

Aether had multiple questions he wanted to ask the old man, but for now, he kept quiet while everyone prayed and whispered their wishes.

It was strange watching the group of believers praying in front of the gates, with little awareness that the person Paimon and Aether were talking about was on the other side, practically begging for the god these believers were praying for to free the girl he took.

It seemed as though the old man sensed their watchful and peering gaze. "Please do not anger the Anemo Archon... for he may be merciful to some but harsh to others..." he said.

"Harsh to others?" Paimon spoke aloud. The man stared back at her for a moment before answering, "Lord Barbatos is a benevolent archon, but witnessing his wrath during the Ludi Harpastum left many an unfortunate soul destroyed and exiled forever from his land."

It sounded familiar, a promise, that would let people make offerings in exchange for good luck. The air was tense between them and Aether was at a loss for words.

“We only wish for peace and harmony. People deserve to live their lives freely with no worries of imminent danger or threat.” The elder answered, tightly holding the cross hanging on his neck to seek guidance. “But if we worship and follow the Lord’s will, he might become merciful. It’s the only way for everyone to be saved.”

“Will?” Paimon echoed.

“Lord Barbatos added a will that will significantly change the scripture and history of Mondstadt,” the robed priest added. He stood up and brushed away the wrinkles of his clothes and took out a thick book from his robe. “We found this book on the altar while sheltering everyone. The Church has yet to read the full scripture but we can discern it’s about his spouse.”

“The night after the festival was already a warning to us,” the old man’s voice trembled. “We dare not to anger him. So please, Honorary Knight, do not accumulate Lord Barbatos’s wrath.”

Numerous times he encountered you, it always didn’t end well and the archon is always there to step in.

He frowned and bit his lips. His fingers dug through his skin. It made him uncomfortable that the church never dared to question the sudden addition of sacred scripture and the will of the Anemo Archon.

Perhaps because he is the archon, they obeyed his orders.

Sighing heavily, he turned back to the barrier and placed his hand upon it.

Under his breath, he whispered his prayers for your safety. The wind may have brought it to Venti, but the wind may have not. And regardless if it angered the archon, he’d still find a way to get you out of there.

taglist: @trust-the-oxygen @so-uncute

sorry for the very long wait for an update >.> this chapter and the next one have been sitting on my drafts for months and I didn't have the time to edit and fix it. but I finally have done it!

the next chapter was supposed to be the chapter 19, however after I reread the story, there was a big plot hole and it'd be very confusing how it got there so I had to add this chapter to fix the plot hole lol

also!! i did major edits on the previous chapters regarding Decarabian. i changed his title from “previous Anemo Archon” to “God of Storms” since he wasn't technically an anemo archon back then

#elliwrites #venti x reader #yandere venti x reader #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact venti #illusory sense

82 notes · View notes

echoalyssa · 1 year

Text

Counterparts | Brian O’Conner

The night air is warm, almost comforting. The city of Los Angeles seemed to have decided to go to sleep tonight. The city, normally bustling with life, was quiet, peaceful. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barks up at the moon.

I’m standing in front of Mercy Park’s garage checking the oil level of my bike. My brother Logan is lingering by the bay doors, rearranging a stack of Husky jacks that really did not need to be rearranged. He was skeptical about me going riding with someone outside of our crew, but I had known Brian for years.

He drove with Dominic Toretto. Toretto’s crew were technically our rivals as we worked out of the same part of LA. Though Dom and Kaneko, the leader of the Mercy Park Crew, had come to an agreement to coexist.

We’d decided to leave the JDM’s at home tonight. It was perfect weather to take the bikes out and we’d both been neglecting the machines.

The loud thrum of Brian’s bike alerts me that he is around the corner. I glance at Logan and narrow my eyes at him, begging him to go back inside and talk to Toby or Ximena. He was ridiculously worried about Brian considering his girlfriend’s dad was the cop who had almost brought us all in.

Brian comes around the corner and pulls into the garage’s parking lot. He nudges the kickstand out with his right booted foot and then turns the key in the ignition to shut the machine off. He tugs his helmet off, revealing his blonde curls and striking blue eyes. The smile that he aims at me is intoxicating.

He dismounts his bike and crosses the distance towards me. I open my arms for him immediately. His arms go around my waist, and I loop mine around his neck. He smells like oil mixed with an earthy undertone. Brian holds me for a good minute before he steps back and flashes me with that grin again.

“It’s been too long.” He glances over your shoulder and raises his hand in a wave, “Hey Logan!”

I hear the garage door close and know that my brother has finally left us alone.

“You look good.” I murmur back to him. And he does, he’s wearing a plain white t-shirt and black jeans. He has his steel toes on and a thin gold chair dangles around his neck. He’s showered recently, his hair bearing the signs of water. Though somehow there is a dirt smudge just under his jaw, as if he just can’t quite seem to stay away from the grime of working on cars.

Brian pokes the tip of my nose with his index finger and then glances at the garage behind me. He tilts his head in the direction of the street. Even though both crews were on good terms did not mean that we should be hanging out together in broad view.

I pull my hair into a loose braid before sliding my helmet on. Brian starts his bike again, throwing a leg over. He maneuvers it backwards so that he can pull back out onto the road. It’s currently wrapped in white with the signature Toretto decals on the gas tank.

My own bike, a Kawasaki Ninja is blacked out. I went for stealth. The machine roars to life underneath me. Brian nods in my direction and together we rev the engines before taking off down the road.

I let Brian lead; I didn’t mind where we went as long as I would get an adrenaline rush. He takes us through a few side streets before we hit the ramp to the highway. He turns his head, checking to make sure that I am still behind him.

The second he confirms that I am still following behind him like his little shadow, he tucks and takes off down the empty highway. My heart soars as I accelerate after him. The red needle on my speedometer quickly craws into the triple digits.

We’re absolutely soaring, breaking felony speeds, but neither of us have plates. The wind whips his t-shirt around, making the fabric crawl upward so it bunches around his chest and exposes the hard planes of muscle.

There aren’t many people out on the highway, but we weave through the ones that are. We’re perfectly in sync, reading each other’s movements without needing to communicate. I give the throttle a little more and go surging past him, but only for a moment. He overtakes me. It continues like this for miles, each of us going for the lead. The city is a blur around us.

I outstretch a hand to the wind, feeling the way it pushes my arm back in because of the speed. Anyone who saw us together must have been in awe, we give off an almost ethereal aura. Yin and Yang. Light and dark. One and the same.

We were brothers. But bound by more than blood. We were twins as well. Counterparts. Gangster princes of the city we met.

No amount of words could describe the perfection of the moment between the two of us. A picture would do no justice.

Adrenaline pumps through my veins, one mistake and we would be dead, but there was no fear. Only the urge to go faster, to push the limits. That was the thing about Brian, he understood. That if speed was to lead to our demise, we would go out smiling.

Almost too soon, Brian drops a hand to his side, signaling that he is going to take the next exit ramp. He leans into the turn and checks once more, that I’m behind him. We maneuver down a few side roads and then come to a stop atop a hill. The stars are bright tonight, almost defying nature.

Brian dismounts his bike first, and then he’s in front of me. I haven’t even finished setting up my kickstand before his hands are pulling my helmet off and his lips are brushing against mine. I sigh into him, trusting that I can tip toe the bike and kiss him back. It’s like a weight has been lifted off of my chest

He pulls away but rests his forehead against mine, his fingers brush the strands of hair that had escaped my braid back behind my ears. “I missed you.”

The only response I can find is to pull him back towards me. There wasn’t much time to spare for either of us, both crews were constantly traveling for boosts, but the time that we did have together… we savored it. Loyalties to the crews aside, the two of us would always come back to one another.

#the fast and the furious #fast and furious #paul walker #dominic toretto #brian oconner #ride or die #jdm #Paul walker x reader #brian o'conner #brian o'conner x reader #brian o'conner smut #brian o'conner imagine

574 notes · View notes

ashfae · 1 year

Note

Er yes. You seem to have good taste in GO fics. Got anymore faves I can read when I should be working or paying attention to my child? 😝

I'm really flattered you asked! And I also have 50 pages of fics bookmarked and no idea where to begin aaahhhh! So I'll just, errr, lob a bunch onto here: Obviously there's the trifecta of GO fic brilliance, Slow Show, Pray For Us Icarus, and Demonology and the Tri-Phasic Model of Trauma: An Integrative Approach. Everyone knows them, you don't need me to babble.

Other faves in no particular order and of all types because if I try to be organized about this I'll spend months at it and never post it:

Be As You've Always Been - by gyzym

It Was Always You - by mltefry

Truth or Dare - by @kanna-ophelia (also Stay) What God Hath Wrought - by @saretton

What We Make Of It (Shotgun Wedding) - by @charlottemadison42 (this fic made me a better parent, I'm not kidding) (see also Or Be Nice because choosing between them would leave me screaming for weeks)

In the Pocket of the Universe - by @indieninja92

Choose Your Faces Wisely - by @featherquillpen (this fic changed my life in ways I find it very difficult to express)

Dark Roast Espresso at the Purgatory Cafe - by @copperplatebeech

Thieves of Mercy - by @amuseoffyre

Oh Maker - by @voluptatiscausa

Lunacy - by @snae-b

a lighthouse, burning - by @books-and-omens

The Book of Ruth - by @racketghost (the whole Strange Moons series but for me especially this one)

Scales From the Eyes - by @yoites-good-omens-blog

Love in the Days of an Ill-Timed Plague - by @scrapbramble

Of Boxes, Boas, and Bastards - by @hkblack

Saltwater - by @heycaricari

Demon and Angel Professors - by ghostinthehouse (this looks long and intimidating but chapters are very short and entirely worth it)

oh god I'll stop there or I never will even though I've left out SO MANY of my favourites ahhhhhh /smashes post button

#good omens fanfic recs

509 notes · View notes

alessiamalfoyzabini · 6 months

Text

Dark Moon | Chapter Twelve

Pairing | yandere!Jimin x Reader

Word Count | 1,7k

Warnings | +18, angst, mentions of childhood abuse, references to rape, torture, beatings, outbursts of anger, death of a background character, MC is having a really hard time, murder(?), triggering content, this is not for minor.

This fanfiction is yandere, if you don't like the genre, don't read and if you are not of age, don't read.

I don't want to hear any complaints in the comments, thank you.

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | She just wanted to escape her past, take charge of her life and break out of her steel cage, praying in God for a miracle that could change her life for good.

And her prayers were heard, but it was not the Divine that answered her.

That was certainly the devil in the guise of an angel, she thought as those corrupted and empty eyes searched her soul with extreme voracity.

He turned a sweet, false smile on her, before pushing her into the abyss.

➢ Author's Note | In this chapter Jimin finds out what really happened to MC in the past 💔I recommend reading to a +18 audience, let me know what you think of course! It always makes me very happy to read your comments 🥹💕

Taglist: @katherine-kookie, @dragons-flare, @m00njinnie, @seokjins-luigi, @pjmsneverland, @jimincrystal, @ajkwww, @ungodlyjoon, @hecateslittlewitchling, @namjoonsbuspass, @darkuni63, @xicanacorpse, @jiminismine4ever, @btssimpjaneth, @antisocial-mochi267

Taglist is open!

Chapter List - Previous - Next

He would have wanted to vomit.

Their men were on Minho's trail, but the bastard had so much property in Korea that it was like looking for a needle in a haystack; what was certain was that he was no longer in town.

It had been five days since her disappearance, Jimin was not even eating anymore, so much were his nerves gnawing at him.

He would not even look Taehyung in the face. It was his job to take care of her and he had left her alone in revenge, no one was home to watch over her, no one.

At the mercy of herself and loneliness.

Just the thought lacerated Jimin in several places, the physical wounds were soon forgotten, the doctor who had been forced by Namjoon to examine Jimin, despite the latter's insistence that it was a waste of time, said the cuts were healing well. But Jimin did not care.

She was his fixed thought.

He was storming Choi hideouts, capturing and torturing members of his gang and allies, but no one knew Y/N, no one had captured her, and everyone did not have close relations with Minho, Jimin felt on the high seas.

Taehyung on his part had not stopped for a moment to carry out to the letter the directives Jimin gave him through Namjoon.

He felt terribly guilty.

With Jimin, and fuck, even with Y/N.

He had not appreciated the girl's gesture, not at all, and in those days he would have liked to use her as target practice, he would not have denied it, but objectively analyzing the situation it was normal that she would sooner or later react that way if pushed beyond her limits.

She still deserved punishment, but not death, and in Minho's hands she would have received both instead, he knew that very well and Jimin did too, an additional reason that drove his friend further and further into madness.

Seeing Jimin destroyed like that had made him realize that she was not just "Jimin's bitch," even if the boy did not admit it, she was "Jimin's woman." One of the family.

Perhaps the man himself still could not understand it, but Taehyung knew that soon Jimin would fully understand his feelings.

The man in question saw the door to his office at the Dark Moon open for Namjoon to appear, carrying a dark folder.

"Any news?" he asked wearily, rubbing his eyes.

"I have what you asked for," he replied, putting that folder on his desk, "I'll leave you alone, okay?"

He didn't want to invade Jimin's privacy, what he was going to read soon would not be easy to digest and he didn't want to witness the boy's weakness, Jimin would not stand for it.

Namjoon left the room in silence and Jimin was left alone with Y/N's past.

He hesitantly took those papers, aware that he was the one who had requested them, sighed before removing the rubber band.

L/N Y/N.

At last he knew her real name, with a strange feeling he continued to read each word carefully.

Her father and mother were foreigners, but they had resided in South Korea since Y/N's birth, who had not finished her studies due to lack of money.

But things got strange after the third page, there were complaints, many.

All made by the mother and all involving the same subject, Y/N.

But they were soon withdrawn.

Statements of bruises, physical and verbal abuse against the girl who at the time was only a ten-year-old girl, the mother accused her husband's brother, she said that he took advantage of the help he offered them to do things with the woman's underage daughter, she did not say explicitly what, she simply pinned Y/N's physical and mental injuries on the man, Mikkel, except that she later withdrew everything.

The authorities soon grew tired of that tirade, paid her no further heed, and ignored the latest complaint, dismissing it as the ramblings of a madwoman.

Jimin's hands trembled as he held the papers, finding a legal and authentic medical report proving sexual assault on Y/N, who was 13 years old. But no one had lifted a finger to help her, even though she was born in Korea she was the daughter of foreigners and bore no Korean surname, who cared about her?

Jimin's dark eyes glittered with fury as he dwelled on the name of the man who had made Y/N's childhood and adolescence a living hell, he now understood many things and felt disgusted with himself.

He too had repeatedly ignored her pleas for help, seeing her as an enemy to be put down and humiliated because she was a woman.

But she was not that kind of despicable, power-hungry woman; she was just a desperate girl.

A gasp went up his esophagus at remembering the despicable words about her virginity, not to mention what a bastard he had been while drunk that last time.

'Now you are no longer a virgin,' he had told her.

He had taken more purity from her without her permission, he felt like a monster.

And he laughed at himself, "You brought me to my knees, baby.... You did it," he said, slumping back against the chair.

"I don't know anything!"

Jimin glowered at the older man; he was as furious as a beast. It had been eight fucking days and still nothing from Y/N.

He was tired of that fucking game.

"I'm going to tell you again, you old ass-kisser, Choi Minho kidnapped my girlfriend and now you're going to tell me where he is right now, you're his fucking butler, you need to know that!" he ranted with his face transfigured with rage, kicking the chair on which the elderly man was tied, tipping it over furiously.

They had found the man in one of the last properties they had searched, it was an English-style mansion, the asshole had lavish fantasies.

"Mr. Choi never warns me about his moves-" a traumatic punch hit him right in the mouth, the old man found himself spitting blood and teeth.

"THEN YOU WILL MAKE ME A LIST OF THE PLACES WHERE YOUR BOSS IS USUALLY HIDING LIKE A SEWAGE RAT!" he ranted, hitting him again, Taehyung and Jungkook looked at him in amazement, never had Jimin lost his temper like that, "And pray that it's in one of them, because if you tease me and anything has happened to her, I'll rip your heart out with my bare hands," he hissed venomously with swollen neck veins.

"Jimin."

Seokjin watched the scene with folded arms and a serious look.

"What?" he did not turn to look at his boss, feeling dejected and tired, nervous and angry. He wanted to kill everyone.

"Calm down, that's not how we're going to find her."

"Yes, I will! I'll cut the throat of anyone who gets in the way, Jin!" he was beside himself, understood a good deal of his feelings, and wanted her back by his side as soon as possible.

He would never leave her alone again.

The insistent ringing of a phone interrupted the flow of his thoughts, he ignored the moans of the man on the ground and concentrated on Seokjin. The boy answered without thinking, and from his expression Jimin guessed that something had happened.

"...So you found the house?" Jimin instantly revived.

Like lightning he reached out and snatched the phone from Seokjin's hands, on the other side was Hoseok.

"Did you find her? Where, tell me where the fuck you are," he began to tar and feather him with questions and expletives until Hoseok could overpower his voice, "... I'll see you there, don't move a fucking muscle, Jung Hoseok," he ordered him, Jin voluntarily took back his phone shaking his head.

"Good job, Hoseok...no, do as he told you," he brought two fingers to his forehead trying to calm his headache, amplified by the prisoner's moans of pain.

He pulled his gun out of his classically cut jacket and fired two quick shots in the direction of the elderly man.

"Namjoon, go with him and prevent him from exposing himself too much, he is still wounded."

"You made me do it, princess," sighed Minho buttoning his pants once more, "If you had listened to me you wouldn't be like this now."

But Y/N was not listening to him, she had no voice left so much she had screamed, her expressionless eyes staring at everything and nothing.

The torture had continued every day, Minhyun beat her and Minho raped her, bringing her to the brink of death every single time when he clutched her neck in a death grip.

She had not eaten for days and was given water only when she did not shriek too much. Like a prize.

She was deeply distraught.

"Now you're boring me, though. Where the fuck is the Bangtan hideout, you know! Jimin would never keep so close to a mere escort, you must count for something to him!"

She counted for nothing to Jimin, otherwise he would have already found and rescued her. Jimin had gotten rid of a burden like her, Minho had done him a favor.

Hot tears slid disgustingly down her bruised face.

That thought hurt her more than any of Minhyun's punches, she had been used to the end, but now she had run out of batteries, she only prayed that with her sister, life had been more merciful and gentle.

"Mr. Choi!" Minhyun slammed the door of that prison alarmingly.

"Who taught you to enter like that!"

"Four of the Bangtans and their men are here," he said in a strained voice, the atmosphere in the room becoming heavy, "One of them is that bastard Park himself, he has already shot and taken out eight of our men at the entrance."

Y/N could see the trembling take over Minho's body, who licked his suddenly dry lips.

Her heart was beating incessantly, Jimin was there, he was there!

"We must leave, now!" exclaimed his bodyguard once again, Minho woke up and turned sharply toward the girl.

A strange expression was present on his face.

"Nothing personal, little girl... " he said before nodding to his henchman, who firmly grabbed his glock, "But the idea that Jimin might get you back doesn't appeal to me one bit," he ran out of the room like a coward, as the deafening sound of a gunshot ripped through the air, a sharp and terrifying sensation expanded from her chest to her nerves, she gaped her lips in a gasp, but blood rushed up her throat and blocked her attempt to catch her breath.

She was dying, really dying.

108 notes · View notes

storiesoflilies · 9 months

Text

Of Angels and Curses

Synopsis - In a world where Angels and Curses are locked in a never ending war, an unsuspecting seraph becomes entangled with the very thing she is fated to eradicate.

Pairing - Curse!Toji Fushiguro x f!Angel!Reader. Curse!Ryomen Sukuna x Reader. Angel!Satoru Gojo x Reader.

Warnings - General descriptions of violence and injuries, eventual smut.

A/N: Aaaaand here we go!! I’m posting this earlier than I was supposed to in honor of Toji’s birthday. Fun fact - Toji and I share the same birthday :) Ko-Fi.

Next part — Chapter 2

-•-

Chapter 1

The sky was falling ever so softly.

She’d spent so long staring upwards at it, utterly astounded, because it never occurred that way when she imagined it in her head. There was supposed to be an all-consuming deafening rumbling, chunks of blue tumbling down from above, and fiery meteors the size of moons hurling themselves into the chaos of a dying Earth.

But no, it was more like a hundred million and one glowing embers fluttering down like beautiful dying butterflies.

Is this what it’s like when Angels fall?

Y/N thought it was a more peaceful way to go; instead of a violent plummet into the dirt to trade their lives for another one as a Curse. It was a nice thought, naive even, because seraphim were not kind nor merciful to those who they deemed had turned against them. Stupid, wishful thinking, a selfish desire for the world to be anything but exactly what it is; sin was as inevitable as the sun, rising and falling with time in a terrible terrible cycle. She’d seen the streets run crimson like glimmering rubies as Angel’s wings were torn from their bones and flesh, heard their screams from afar as they begged and pleaded not to be cast out. It was always the same; Heaven is, and always would remain, divinely perfect, and it would forever be ruthless in its pursuit of maintaining it. Free will is a beautiful thing, certainly, so long as one made only the right choices.

She shook her head, cool ash flaking off her hair, and picked up her katana from where it lay beside a Curse’s corpse. Satoru Gojo had trusted her with hunting down this particularly erratic Second Layer Curse that had been capturing and torturing wounded Angels. Indeed, she could see the remnants of its latest mangled victim underneath its grotesque blubbery body; a once living soul now just an unrecognizable face beaten into a bloody feathery mess. Maybe they had once sinned, perhaps not, but what did it matter? They were just another tally to be scratched on a plaque, a life reduced to a single scratch on a stone already marred by millions of markings.

Y/N briefly considered attempting to retrieve the body for a proper burial, but it was already far too late in the day. The last rays of the sun threw a brilliant shade of red across the sky, a low hum of anticipation in the air that whispered of all the fury and violence of thunder and lightening; night would soon fall to unleash the lethal Curses that dwelled in the deepest layers of Hell. If she didn’t hurry and ascend to Heaven, then she would bear witness to the unholiest of rituals, as the Earth would crack open beneath her and the molten fire of Sukuna’s wrath would burst forth and consume her body and soul.

She kneeled in front of the Curse; its forked tongue rolling out of a toothless mouth, lidless eyes tipped backwards into its head, and blackened blood dripping from the fatal wound right through its brain. Y/N’s thumb squelched uncomfortably as she pressed it firmly into the rubbery skin of its forehead, and murmured a quick prayer for the deceased seraph, and a blaze of golden light engulfed both corpses. Gojo had taught her how to use her divine energy to smite dead Curses, just to make sure they won’t try again in his own words, and this power could also be extended to cremate their own.

The ground groaned and rumbled, as if protesting against its part to play in the cycle of violence, serving as a sinister warning for her to hurry. A wave of panic washed over her, and Y/N closed her eyes; grasping to control her lackluster wisps of divine energy, and cried out into the seemingly empty plane of the Unlimited Void.

But empty it was not, for Satoru Gojo sees and hears all within his domain.

Within an instant, she felt herself floating into and across the Void as Gojo’s essence consumed and caressed her soul; still as exhilarating and frightening as the first time she had tepidly stepped through this plane of existence. And Y/N could feel all of him, but could do nothing but helplessly travel through the cosmos of his own making. Gojo was like a turbulent ocean, ever-changing and impatient, but perplexingly beautiful; a ticking clock waiting to chime a tune of misery to signal his arrival against his enemies. Not many Angels were privy to ascending into Heaven this way, because Gojo simply didn’t want to do it for just anybody. He was like a fussy child picking only the best things to play with; his trust the ultimate game to win, and many had tried. Y/N didn’t think it was so complex, because she understood fear in a way Gojo could never, and ordinary Angels couldn’t face the fact that their souls would be bared so openly and judged by the Six Eyes himself.

Y/N blinked, and found herself in front of him.

“Cutting it a little close, eh?”

Satoru Gojo stood with his corded forearms crossed over each other, tall and broad form leaning back against an iridescent golden pole of the Gates of Heaven; a marble statue carved directly from God’s hands that demanded complete attention, a perfect vision of beauty that Y/N could never tire of looking at it. He wore a bemused smirk on his face, clearly relishing in her reliance of his power to save her from certain doom, but Y/N liked to think he didn’t completely look down on her. Perhaps she could give him the benefit of the doubt; he had been waiting for her outside the city, and maybe expected her to ascend to Heaven normally, which required an Angel to fly upwards from the Earth and pass through each of the seven layers of Heaven. Each of these layers were well defended by legions of seraphim ready to lay their lives against imminent attacks, bolstered by colossal golden gates similar to the one guarding the main city.

“But you’ve done it, right?” He continued, his eyes completely focused on her as she approached.

Gojo often asked questions he already knew the answers to, something he did with her and his other favorites; a way of settling nerves and putting them at ease around him, as if he hadn’t rooted through every crack and crevice of their minds, pretending he didn’t know them more intimately than they probably did themselves.

“It’s done.”

He hummed appreciatively, the hundreds of eyes decorating his wings blinking intermittently to give an illusion of twinkling cerulean lights, and extended his hand for her to take. Y/N accepted, refusal simply not an option, her fingers intertwining with his as he dropped the infinite barrier coating his body, and let him lead her through the Golden Gates and into the city; their kingdom far above the Earth – where no Curse had ever managed to breach.

Heaven was a seemingly never-ending city; a labyrinth of buildings and twisting pathways built from white marble, with pearlescent towers of varying heights dotted throughout. – a perfect pristine canvas of glittering white diamonds. Many Angels would live together in each of these towers, forming extended families to be born and raised together for generations. Cool air washed through every twist and turn of the city, flowing between trees with silver leaves bearing the sweetest figs; which grew intermittently between any sliver of space between the rock, and some were even as tall as the towers themselves.

“Gojo, couldn’t you see the sky below?”

“Hmm?”

“The sky was burning before I left, it was falling.”

“Ah yes, well… that’s no surprise. Geto has become a Curse, and he is past my sight now. It makes sense the first thing he did was kill the Sky Sentries, so I suppose it’s a good thing you called for me through the Void.”

She froze, and he stopped with her.

Geto is, was, Gojo’s second in command; his most trusted confidant and closest ally. If he had fallen, then there would be many other Angels who would have willingly fallen with him. The Sky Sentries guarded the sky of the Earth, the first layer of Heaven; they stood at the frontline of the war, warriors that couldn’t afford to rest, for come nightfall it was a bloodbath of Curses attempting to breach the first barrier.

So many of us are dead. More lines on the wall.

“Gojo, I-,” Y/N paused, unsure of what to say. “I’m sorry.”

At this, he released her hand and turned to face her. “Why? He made his choice.”

Gojo turned away again, staring down at the ground beneath his feet like he was seeing right through it to the Earth and scorched skies, and scoffed loudly. It was a seething sound of a betrayal that had cut him deeply, and it was a promise of violence and vengeance. Nobody escaped punishment, especially not from the Six Eyes, and Geto was certainly not above consequences.

“You know, we were all given free will. It shouldn’t surprise you, when an Angel - any Angel - falls into darkness and becomes a Curse,” he stated with finality, a sharp edge of a steel knife in his voice.

“But, Geto was our family,” Y/N breathed out shakily, her sadness starting to bubble out uncontrollably. “I didn’t know he was changing, I never noticed anything was wrong.”

“Neither did I,” Gojo whispered defeatedly, a complete change in his tone, letting slip just a sliver of his hurt for someone else to see.

Geto and Gojo were born three centuries before Y/N, and became nigh inseparable; a perfect example of how strong the bond of comradery should be between Angels. She had first met Geto when he had started training her to fight, he’d still hadn’t risen to power back then, and they quickly became close. Of course, naturally Gojo took an interest in her as Geto’s pupil, and over the next two hundred years, Y/N had witnessed them rise through the ranks of the Angels; until they reached the pinnacle of power, their combined strength looming over them all like the omnipresent presence of God in Heaven – and yet, they still kept her within their circle. But Geto was different to Gojo, because he understood that strength wasn’t a gift distributed to everyone, and Y/N had seen him fight a fraction harder just to stand on par beside Gojo on the podium of divinity. He had become her brother; a pillar of strength in her life in a way that the Six Eyes could never be, someone who she could truly say would fight to the death for her if he thought her time had come too early.

Gojo was silent for a moment before continuing, “But the sky will heal, Shoku and her followers can do it. There’s always more of us ready to take each other’s place, you don’t need to worry about it anymore.”

He tenderly stroked her cheek smeared with dried Curse blood, watching as a stray tear escaped and ran down her face like a petulant child, and let out a great sigh as if it was the greatest inconvenience for him to witness her sadness. Y/N felt sheepish; how could she be so upset over a betrayer, a snake that had bitten the hand of someone who had thought it graceful and beautiful. Gojo’s great wings unfurled around them, his feathers tickling her exposed neck softly like a lover would, and his arms pulled her into an embrace.

“Im alright Satoru,” she sniffled after some time. “I just need to be alone, to clean myself and pray for him.”

“His soul is gone, you know that Y/N,” Gojo said softly, like she was a precious crystal he held in his palms, threatening to shatter at any moment.

“I don’t care, I need to put him to rest in some way, for my own peace.”

“Let me come with you then, when I return in the morning. You’re too exhausted to go and pray now.”

“Gojo, please. I need this.”

At this he let her go, his wings snapping back in place like they had been stung, and placed his hand on her head in a blessing. A soothing cool sensation spread all the way down from his palms, healing her weary bones and muscles; bathing her in the rarely tranquil ocean of his divine power, and she shuddered in both fear and relief. Some of his followers had gathered around them, eagerly awaiting their commander to follow into the ensuing battle at the First Gate; curiously glancing at the sight of the two of them, like they were forbidden art that nobody could look at for too long. She knew that he had to go; Gojo always went to battle when the last light left the Earth, even if he had already been fighting during the day. But such was the duty of the Six Eyes — always in the heat of battle, never tiring and never resting.

“Go and sleep,” he said, an order; daring her to refuse again. “I’ll see you in the morning. We can pray together then.”

“Be safe,” she whispered.

He nodded, and then vanished instantaneously, leaving Y/N alone surrounded by the watchful eyes of the other seraphim.

-•-

From light we are born, and to ashes we return.

The beginning of a prayer uttered for those who had passed.

Who once was mighty and now fallen.

Y/N had recited these words many times over, but never once had she done so for a Curse.

Heavenly Father, may you guide our souls to peace in Paradise.

She bathed in starlight and galaxies, and sank backwards into the bathing pool; sending her further into space, to a time and place where her brother hadn’t left her. Caked Curse blood swirled away in the holy water as she sank deeper, her eyes never closing as she stared up at the stars in the night sky.

Where we may all meet again.

Y/N whimpered pitifully as she thought again of Geto in the depths of Hell, wondering if he was suffering as his once holy power was warped into something wicked and corrupt. Would he even look the same, would she recognize him if he materialized in front of her at this very moment; a snarling animalistic Curse like the one she had killed today. Or would he remain as he was like a blip in time, a frozen facade of happiness, but with only malice and sin left underneath it all?

To remain in your eternal light forever.

She emerged, water running down her face as her heart constricted painfully, and clasped her hands together and whispered, “Forgive him, oh please forgive him.”

What was else she supposed to do? Oh how she wished she could go back; maybe then she might have noticed if his eyes had tears of darkness in them, if he had laid there alone as the night full of terrors ushered and coaxed his soul to their side. Then she could have told herself what she was meant to do, instead of grieving for Geto like he was already dead like a ghost she would forever clutch on to; stuck reliving a trail of memories she once thought she knew most of, and now none at all. But if she looked into Gojo’s blue eyes, would she find a glimpse of the brother who lifted her on to his shoulders and raised her with dignity and kindness?

Enough, enough .

Y/N climbed up the steps of the pool as droplets of stars cascaded down her hair, down between her thighs, and down to her feet. She wondered what sort of horrors were unfolding hundreds of thousands of leagues beneath her; if Gojo was striking down Curses with all the fury and might of a scorned lightning storm. She murmured silent prayers for the creatures who stood in his way, and for the seraphim whose lives would be lost as a consequence of Geto’s betrayal. Her feet tapped against the cool marble pathway leading from the pool to the back entrance of Gojo’s tower, and Y/N shook her wings free of any remaining water droplets that flung to her feathers. Her body was bare for all to see as she passed through the empty hallways, but she wasn’t concerned; all those who followed the Six Eyes had followed him into the night, into war. Gojo hadn’t deemed Y/N strong enough to fight during the night, and he never would; for his own selfish reasons, he was keeping her safe.

Her thoughts strayed to when he had openly embraced her in public, and knew that it would have added some truth to the rumor that they were more than just comrades. It was common for Angels that hadn’t found their soulmates to marry each other, as it unfortunately wasn’t always a guaranteed event during one’s lifetime; and of course new seraphim must be born to fight in the war. Since neither of them had found theirs as of yet, so many believed that they would eventually marry. Gojo had made numerous advances to court her over the past few decades, namely allowing her to stay within his tower, as well as hints during various conversations that he expected her to marry him when he finally did ask. Y/N knew that he was aware of her hope for her own soulmate, and that was the only reason he had graced her with his patience, but hope was dangerous in war – it was only a matter of time before he saved her from her own misery.

It would be the most practical thing to do, and Y/N truly did care for him, but was that really enough?

Satoru Gojo was an enigma. On the one hand, he was adored for his effortless displays of power as he could single-handedly decimate armies. On the other, what made him loved was also what made him feared; all he had to do was drag a seraph charged of sin into his Unlimited Void, and they would be helpless as he brutally tore through their minds in search of the truth. If found guilty, he would rip their wings from their backs himself, and then hurtle them towards Hell. Satoru Gojo was as revered as he was terrifying; like he had attained a status close to godliness. Why he had chosen her to be his, Y/N would never know; she could only accept him when he finally came calling for her.

Y/N shook her head, trying to banish all thoughts from her head, and slipped into her bed as her wet hair soaked through the pillow.

What if Geto shows himself tonight?

Perhaps she was right to mourn him, Gojo would strike him down for what he had done. Would Geto give reasons as to why he had sinned if he could speak properly? Y/N hoped so; whatever his answer, it could steel her resolve for the hard fight ahead. But for now, she attempted to empty her head of dark thoughts in an effort to sleep. She would have to be well rested to deal with the fallout of Geto’s betrayal; many new Curses would have been born from all the anguish he had caused.

Can I really hunt those who were my allies just this morning?

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, hands clamped over her ears, and prayed the negativity and heartache away from her dreams.

-•-

A purple aura permeated Y/N’s room when she awakened, spilling in feverishly from outside the window, and an eerie silence from the previous night lingered and settled like dust. The battle for the sky must still be ongoing if no one was home yet, which meant it was as brutal as she dreaded it to be; for Gojo must have used his Hollow Purple for forcing the sky to change color. She felt fresh fear being thrown over her like a bucket of ice, as the possibility of more of her family dying hit her instantaneously. Y/N quickly donned a fresh set of armor; it was morning now, Gojo couldnt forbid her from descending to Earth since the moon and stars had vanished from sight – she was permitted to go and fight.

Wait.

Y/N froze.

It was Gojo’s voice in her head, his authority reverberating within her mind like a great ringing bell. A strange feeling gathered in the pit of her stomach; he never communicated telepathically with her. Was he trying to keep her from harm? Why wasn’t he allowing her to descend?

I’m coming to you.

Butterflies furiously erupted in her chest, and Y/N hurried outside the tower; the purple glow of the sky growing stronger the closer she got to the entrance of the tower, like a warning nobody could possibly ignore.

The streets outside were in chaos.

Wounded seraphim were being carried by other Angels from a large swirling blue portal at the farthest end of the street from her, and were immediately being tended to by Shoko’s followers. There was an acrid smell in the air; of anguish and death, the scent of suffering from Hell itself. Y/N spied Nanami Kento holding his blunted sword close to his chest, eyes closed as if he was deep in pain but keeping it hidden, as Shoko wrapped his bloodied arms with fresh bandages.

Before Y/N could push her way towards them, the crowd imploded with feverish excitement and shouting as the portal zapped shut, and she jumped back in fright. An unmistakable white head of hair was moving through the crowd, and the seraphim were singing with glee as they parted for their champion; a god splitting the sea, and holding back the oncoming tsunami of adoration. And then, Gojo finally came into view from where she stood, an indecipherable look upon his face as his eyes roamed over every seraphim in the crowd. His gaze inevitably locked onto her, and Y/N noted a crazed spark in his eyes that made her feel uneasy. But she was frozen in place, like prey helplessly watching a predator rushing towards it, as Gojo strode towards her; broad build dripping with Curse blood as he climbed the stairs, stopping just a step below her.

And then he kneeled in front of her, and the universe went quiet.

Y/N’s eyes widened, “Gojo, what are-”

He reached behind his back, procuring two katanas in his palms to her like they were an offering, but she knew exactly where they had come from. The blades were made of pure holy silver, diamonds and pearls encrusted on the hilt — unmistakably Geto’s weapons.

“Geto lost the right to these holy weapons when he betrayed us,” Gojo said as he turned the blades over in his hands, examining them with that same indecipherable look.

“He’s dead then?” Y/N breathed out shakily.

Gojo shook his head, “No, he escaped, but all his followers have been punished.”

She sucked in a breath.

So many more dead.

“These are yours now,” he continued. “If you’ll have them.”

The Six Eyes had never once kneeled for anyone. Y/N knew what was coming, what he was about to ask of her; but how and why had he decided so suddenly that now was the time? He stared up at her with those all knowing eyes, like he was privy to her thoughts whirling in her head, and maybe he was.

Let him go.

How could she? Her heart ached for a part of her soul she had never even met — and might never. Even if she did meet her soulmate, marrying Gojo would forever bind her to him, lest she would be cast out of Heaven for the sin of forsaking her marriage vows. Would he ever be able to make her move on and forget? Did he really know just how much he was asking her for? Her heart hammered in her chest; she wasn’t ready for this, not now, and maybe not ever.

He is Satoru Gojo. If he isn’t enough for you, then who else is?

“I promise to protect you from anything that would hurt you,” Gojo vowed, his voice low for words only meant for her. “I will uphold your virtue and strength, and I promise to stand by your side no matter what happens. I promise to end the Curse of Sukuna, and create a paradise for us and our children, even if it kills me.”

Never once had Satoru Gojo ever mentioned the possibility of his death; it was unnerving, unspeakable, unnatural. His usual saccharine tone was nowhere to be found, and it was deathly quiet all around them – every soul hanging on every word they spoke with bated breath.

“I promise to love you, but please… all I ask is for you to love me and accept me for all that I am, for who I’m going to become,” Gojo whispered, and for the first time in their centuries of friendship, Y/N could see desperation deep within his irises.

She breathed out, steeling herself from the heartache and loss settling deep inside her; her defeat was imminent, but she would rise again to take her seat on the throne beside him as his equal. The world jittered in anticipation as Y/N took both of Geto’s katanas in each of her hands, her knuckles turning white as she gripped their hilts. Gojo stared at her, pupils blown wide; from adoration for her or the heat of battle, she didn’t know.

“I accept you, Satoru Gojo.”

Nothing would ever be the same again.

-•-

#toji fushiguro #toji fushigro x reader #toji x reader #jujutsu kaisen #female reader #gojo satoru #soulmate au #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #toji smut #sukuna smut #toji fushiguro x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #smut

178 notes · View notes

talonabraxas · 2 months

Text

THE 7-RUNGED LADDER OF THE MYSTERIES

A symbol of progressive advancement from a lower to a higher sphere, which is common to Freemasonry and to many, if not all, of the Ancient Mysteries. In each, generally, as in Freemasonry, the number of steps was seven.

LADDER, BRAHMANICAL

The symbolic ladder used in the Mysteries of Brahma has seven steps, symbolic of the seven worlds of the Indian universe. The lowest is the Earth; the second, the World of Coexistence; the third, Heaven; the fourth, the Middle World, or intermediate region between the lower and the upper worlds; the fifth, the World of Births, in which souls are born again; the sixth, the Mansion of the Blessed; and the seventh, or topmost round, the Sphere of Truth, the abode of Brahma, who is himself a symbol of the sun.

LADDER, QABALISTIC

The ladder of the Qabalists consists of the ten Sephirot, or Emanations, of Deity. The steps are in an ascending series: Kingdom, Foundation, Splendor, Firmness, Beauty, Justice, Mercy, Intelligence, Wisdom, and the Crown. This ladder forms the exception to the usual number of seven steps or rounds;

LADDER, MITHRAITIC

In the Persian Mysteries of Mithras, there is a ladder of seven rounds, the passage through them being symbolical of the soul's approach to perfection. These rounds are called gates, and in allusion to them, the candidate is made to pass through seven dark and winding caverns, which process is called the ascent of the ladder of perfection. Each of these caverns is representative of a world, or a state of existence, through which the soul must pass in its progress from the first world to the last, the World of Truth. The seven steps are further symbolized by the seven planets and the seven metals. Thus, beginning at the bottom, we have Saturn represented by lead, Venus by copper, Jupiter by tin, Mercury by qiucksilver, Mars by iron, the Moon by silver, and the Sun by gold; the whole being a symbol of the sidereal progress of the sun through the universe.

LADDER OF IZADOSH

This ladder, belonging to the advanced Degrees of Freemasonry, consists of the seven following steps, beginning at the bottom: Justice, Equity, Kindliness, Good Faith, Labor, Patience, and Intelligence or Wisdom. Its supports are love of God and love of our neighbor, and their totality constitute a symbolism of the devoir or duty of Knighthood and Freemasonry, the fulfillment of which is necessary to make a Perfect Knight and Perfect Freemason.

LADDER, ROSICRUCIAN

Among the symbols of the Rosicrucians is a ladder of seven steps standing on a globe of the earth, with an open Bible, Square and Compass resting on top. Between each of the steps is one of the following letters, beginning from the bottom: I. N. R. I. F. S. C., being the initials of Iesus, Nazarenus, Rex, Iudaeorum, Fides, Spes, Caritas. These words suggesting Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews, Faith, Hope, Charity. But a more recondite or hidden meaning is sometimes given to the first four letters (INRI - All of Nature is Renewed by Fire).

LADDER, SCANDINAVIAN

Doctor Oliver refers the symbolic ladder used in the Gothic Mysteries to the Yggrasil, or sacred ashtree. It retains the idea of an ascent from a lower to a higher sphere, which was common to all the mystical ladder systems. At its root lies the dragon of death; at its top are the eagle and hawk, the symbols of life.

LADDER, THEOLOGICAL

The symbolic ladder of the Masonic Mysteries refers to the ladder seen by Jacob in his vision, and consists, like all symbolical ladders, of seven rounds, alluding to the four cardinal and the three theological virtues: Temperance, Fortitude, Prudence, Justice, Faith, Hope, and Charity

LADDER, JACOB'S

While sleeping one night on the bare earth and a stone for his pillow, Jacob beheld the vision of a ladder, whose foot rested on the earth and whose top reached to heaven. Angels were continually ascending and descending upon it, and promised him the blessing of a numerous and happy posterity. This ladder, so remarkable in the history of the Jewish people, finds its analogue in all the ancient initiations. It is certain that the ladder as a symbol of moral and intellectual progress existed almost universally in antiquity, presenting itself either as a succession of steps, of gates, of Degrees, or in some other modified form. The number of the steps varied; although the favorite one appears to have been seven, in reference, apparently, to the mystical character almost everywhere given to that number. - An Encyclopedia of Freemasonary and its Kindred Sciences by Albert C. Mackey MD

66 notes · View notes

moonsaver · 5 months

Note

Moon, I've come back. Have you noticed how the wings in Sunday's suit are significantly darker in comparison to the wings on his neck or just his hair colour in general? Turning into a dark and deep purple?

Now, this MIGHT be a stretch, but the angel who has purple wings is Archangel Zadkiel, who is the angel of mercy. The angel colour purple means mercy and transformation. It tells you that you should be gentle with yourself as your journey shifts and changes. Does this mean that his own body is trying to tell himself that he should stop his self-destructive tendencies and to stop shouldering such a big burden? But he can't, and won't listen. He's too far gone, and the thought of giving up his goal, his ideals, his desire, is far worse than being a selfish man. However, doesn't that also make him selfish?

Outside of religious references, though, the colour purple, especially those of darker shades, represents sadness and frustration. I can only imagine the feeling of utter disappointment and frustration within Sunday after failing at the one thing he wanted to succeed in the most.

i feel like im missing something...

gGGhgqgw I'm going crazy for this man. Sunday angst.. save me.... Sunday angst, save me...

Anon u uave no idea, i read this and kept restlessly pacing back and forth while waiting for my phone to charge up.

This is.. SO SO TRAGIC??

Theres many theories out there that suggest he's a fallen angel. There's also the fact that his wings are literally purple. Anyways,,,

Him being related to the color purple and his wings also, meaning mercy and transformation fit so well eith his character. His "mercy" is one where he imagines an ordered utopia and a life long perfect dream for everyone who struggles with the grapples of reality. His transformation is one where he comes to accept his philosophies are pessimistic and neither as ideal as robin's romantic perspective. But in a way, his mercy is tainted. He doesnt extend this to himself, and how benevolent is a mercy that is conditional?

And the suggestion that his body may be taking the brunt of his self-destruction thereby influencing the color of his wings.. his mind is restless but so is his body.. the body keeps the score indeed.

I feel like this is also loosely able to prove the prediction he may join the stellaron hunters,,, taking a complete transformation as compared to his strict, orderly countenance in regards to his position as the Head of the Oak family.. oh wow.

Also, side note, stellaron hunter!Sunday would be terrifying. I imagine he still tries maintaining a pristine condition and generally grooms himself well, but the image of his white clothing having splatters of blood as he returns from his scripted mission.. WOW...

Anon im so sorry i cant add more to this, im not a theory girly in general, but this is such good infodump...... GOOD GODi love this please thank you so much anon <33

#moonink #hsr #honkai star rail #sunday hsr #hsr sunday #honkai star rail sunday #hsr spoilers #hsr leaks #honkai star rail spoilers #honkai star rail leaks

71 notes · View notes

her-satanic-wiles · 6 months

Text

Soul Breaker

Dewdrop/Sodo x Transmasc!Reader

Months after your first encounter with Dewdrop's demonic form, you convinced your lover to let a second hunt begin. But, in the shadow of night, who is truly hunting whom?

Masterlist ⛧ Realm of Souls Masterlist

Commissioned by @dantesunbreaker

Words: 6.6k

Reading Time: 27 min.

Warnings: biting, bondage, degradation, dubcon, fingering, forced bondage, frottage, graphic descriptions of blood, graphic descriptions of injury, hand job, knotting, masturbation, marking, moderate violence, monster fucking, mutual masturbation, no aftercare, pain kink, PIV sex, power play, spit as lube, tsundere!Dew (kinda), unprotected sex (keep it cool, use a tool, you horny fuckers), vaginal sex

Taglist: @dantesunbreaker @da-rulah @teenage-birt-dag @akayuki56

🔞 MDNI 🔞

As this is dark fiction, I'm choosing to rate it 21+. Please respect my rating. Thank you.

You could still feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins from that night all those weeks ago - the way Dew instilled a fear in you that you’d never felt before, and how you were dying to feel it again. Your love life with Dew was never dull, even when he was in his human form, but there was something about the way he commanded your body, the control he had and the way he felt when he used your body for his own pleasure in his demonic form. Dew had fucked you since then, of course, the two of you could never leave it that long. But, and it pained you to admit it, it just wasn’t the same.

Human Dew was, for lack of a better term, an angel. He was the sweetest person in the Ministry - so kind and so thoughtful, and a stereotypical gentleman. He never overstepped any boundaries, never made you feel unsafe or unloved, and always put your pleasure first. But you’d seen the monster, the demon that had become unleashed and untamed in the light of the moon, who had pinned you down and made you take everything he wanted to give you. You couldn’t stop thinking about it, your hand moving down to play with yourself each and every time your mind decided to take you back to that night, when you were stuffed so full of demon dick and crying out for a mercy that never came. You couldn’t help yourself, needing to work yourself to completion at the thought of it happening again.

But nothing in the Ministry was stronger than Dew’s resolve. The man was more stubborn than a mule, and once he’d set his mind to something, that was it. There was almost no changing that. You’d tried to have these conversations with him, but they always ended the same way.

“I want to keep you safe, ___.” He told you, pleading with you to let this go. “Look at what happened last time.” He was making himself a coffee during this conversation, frustratedly slamming utensils down every time you refused to listen to him.

“Nothing happened last time.” You protested.

“You were scared!”

“That was half the fun!”

“You got caught.”

“Because I went to that cabin. If I’d have stayed in the Ministry, I probably would have gotten away from you.”

“I could have hurt you.”

“Yes, but you didn’t.”

“I… could have done worse.” His voice was quiet that time, eyes averting yours because he couldn’t bring himself to look at you, and expose his true feelings.

You put your hand on his, gently comforting him. You rested your back against your kitchen counter, accidentally half-pinning yourself between it and him. “But you didn’t. Believe me, there was nothing you could have possibly done that I wouldn’t have enjoyed.”

He finally looked at you. “You really enjoyed it that much?”

“Yes! It was different from what you usually do… more ferocious. Normally, you’re so kind and restrained. Still the best I’ve ever had, amazing and wonderful. But that night? You were so rough with me…” Your voice dropped lower as you recounted everything you felt and loved about that night. “You were feral for me, like you’d kill anyone who stopped you from getting to me, like you’d die if you didn’t fuck me. Being desired like that… it-”

Dew could hear the labour in your breath, how just remembering that night was turning you on again. He could practically smell your slick dripping from your slit, and he’d be lying if he said he couldn’t feel his resolve crushing. “Felt good?” He asked, eyes widened and pupils blown.

You lifted your monastic habit and guided his hand to your sex, letting him feel your wetness for himself. “It felt incredible.”

“Fuck.”

The truth was, Dew could remember everything. too. It was like being drunk on a night out and waking up the next morning. He wasn’t entirely in control, but he remembered everything. How your hole welcomed him easily, how your body gave no resistance when he finally took you on the floor of that cabin, fucking the most delicious noises out of you with each pounding you took. How his cock had fucked you so dumb, you could barely comprehend anything besides the way he plunged into you over and over again, and how incredible his ridges felt dragging against your insides. He remembered how your walls fluttered around his length with each filthy word that tumbled from his mouth. And he was getting harder and harder the more he remembered, and the wetter he felt you become.

His skin heated up when he heard a small whimper coming from your mouth, realising that his finger had begun rubbing over your sweet spot, drawing wanton breaths from your lungs. He was fully erect now, his Ghoul uniform tenting significantly at the pressure that was being put on it.

“Y-you want it again, huh?” Dew asked breathlessly, his fingers working you faster.

“Mhm. Want you t-to fuck me dumb again, use my - fuck - use my body to get yourself off.”

Dew captured you in a rough kiss, his tongue immediately sliding down your throat in pure desperation, his composure almost completely lost to the fantasy. You fiddled with his pants, freeing him completely. You spit onto your hand and rubbed it over his shaft before stroking him languidly, concentrating your hand on the head. He purred at the feeling, allowing his hips to buck into your fingers. But eventually, it became too much for him.

He pushed both of your hands out the way and lined himself up with your centre, rubbing against your folds. With each grind against your nerves, your mouth opened wider, head tipping back in pleasure and allowing Dew enough space to bury his head in the crook of your neck. His own moans were muffled by your flesh, more so once his tongue came out and laved at your skin, his moustache tickling you with each graze. Your hands moved to his back, pulling him closer and closer against your body, feeling your wetness slide all over him and only heightening the sensation.

“I t-touch my… self to the thought of it all the ti-ime.” You confessed, one hand tangling in his long hair. His rocking hips became more frantic as he heard your words, your own whimpers reaching directly into his ears and making him lose his mind. He pictured it, you in the shower going at yourself, thinking about his demonic cock railing you from behind.

You felt his teeth graze your skin, and begin to nibble at the flesh, your hole clenching around nothing so needily, you wanted to scream.

“Let me f-feel you again like that, Dew. Please.”

“Y-you wanna feel my fucking demon cock pound you into the floor again, hm? You’re th-that fucking desperate for it, you’re gonna beg… beg me?”

“W-wanna feel you again so fucking b-bad!”

His hips sputtered when he came, his seed spilling all over the bottom of your ass cheeks, folds and thighs. His teeth sunk into you, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to leave a mark there for at least a few days. He cried out, his sounds quietened by your neck but still loud enough to travel straight down to your core. You came shortly after, the erratic thrusts providing you with just enough extra stimulation to tip you over the edge, your fingernails digging into Dew’s uniform and clutching on tightly as you came undone around him.

“Fucking hell.” He muttered, kissing your red flesh and taking a step back.

You looked at him hopefully, wide eyed and wishing he’d give you the answer you wanted to hear.

“___.” He grumbled. “I love you, and that’s why I don’t think I can put you through that again.”

“Dew, you just came to the thought of it. You know it’s-”

“I know!” He sighed. “I know. Just… let me think on it, okay?”

“Of course. Take all the time you need.”

Although, you wished you never said that. By the time the next shift happened, Dew, as usual, stayed behind in the music room while the rest of the Ghouls changed and frolicked about in the forest. There were a further two changes before you’d grown tired of waiting.

Dew had been more forthcoming about talking his shift through, however, more often than not reminiscing on the last shift and detailing exactly how good you looked bouncing off his monster cock. You both fucked each other regularly to that memory, talking about it during sex and riling each other up. At one point, Dew even had you beg for his demonic form while you were riding him, feeling disappointed at the difference in girth between his human form and demonic form, remembering just how. Fucking. Good it felt. He was becoming more and more receptive to it, but every time you asked, he would just tell you he needed more time.

The Ghoulettes were the first to pick up on your frustration, and were the first to confront you about it. Cumulus, Cirrus and Aurora sitting you down in the cafeteria one break time and handing you a drink, practically pulling the information out of you. Although, to be fair to them, it wasn’t hard for you to share it. They listened carefully to every word, nodding and dropping the odd noise of understanding to show you that they were truly listening.

You sighed once you’d completed your tale of woe, and took a sip of your drink. “And now we’re here.” You concluded.

“I mean, it’s understandable why he doesn’t want to do it.” Cirrus began. “You’re human, you can’t fight him off if things go wrong. I’m not even sure if we could.”

The Ghoulettes laughed at this, but they were right. Dew had spent centuries down in Hell, long before everyone else had even been thought of. Whenever any of the Ghouls used to rough and tumble with him, he’d beat them with ease - one arm tied behind his back kind of ease. It came as no surprise to Cirrus at least, when Dew stopped shifting into his demonic form. She may have been on his side for that, but she could at least agree with Aurora when she said that Dew was leading you on a bit.

“Do you think he’ll come round to the idea eventually?” You asked, feeling despair grapple at your bones.

“I wouldn’t like to say, kiddo.” Cumulus responded. “But, if he’s playing around with you like this, then I wouldn’t be surprised if he did come around sooner rather than later.”

“You’re just really going to have to convince him.” Aurora chimed in, before taking a sip of her own drink.

You sighed again. “And how could I convince an ancient demon to change his mind and fuck me within an inch of my life?”

The people around you stopped what they were doing and stared at you, a mixture of amusement and confusion etched on their faces. You smiled at them in response, but honestly, you were too frustrated with your demonic lover to care if anyone heard, or was offended by what you had to say.

Cirrus shook her head and rolled her eyes, especially when Aurora lost her mind with the hilarity of the situation. “Look,” she began, making an effort to quieten her voice and stop other people from overhearing her. “The way I see it, you have two choices: you either let him have his way and not go forward with the whole scenario again. Or you find a way to prove to him that you can take it and defend yourself against any attacks he may throw your way.”

“But how?” You asked, now becoming frustrated with your friends.

Cumulus raised her eyebrows. When she spoke, she did so slowly and carefully. “Well, now that we’re not on tour, some of us have some free time. What about we help build your strength up a little? Get you primed and ready to take that dick.”

Cirrus sighed, “We’re not getting one of the Ghouls to fuck him. Dew would have our heads.”

“No, no! Just ‘wrestling’ as the humans like to call it. Training. We throw ourselves at him, starting from worst to best, and then that way he’ll have a fighting chance against Dew if and when Dew finally comes around.”

Aurora nodded. “I like this plan.”

“This is a great plan.” You agreed.

“Yeah, until he gets hurt and Dew comes for our throats. I don’t know about you, but I certainly don’t have a death wish.” Cirrus commented.

You thought for a moment. “Dew doesn’t have to know.”

“___, you’re going to go back to him with bruises all over your body and he’s going to get really suspicious. Imagine what that’s going to look like if you don’t tell him - or even worse, you stop sleeping with him.”

“He respects my boundaries - if I tell him I don’t want to sleep with him then he’ll let me be.”

Cumulus clapped her hands together. “That’s settled then! Your first day will be with Aurora tomorrow!”

“Hey!” Aurora exclaimed. “Why me?”

“You’re the worst fighter, dummy.”

Cirrus nodded. “She has a point.”

Aurora hissed, bearing her fangs at her friends. “Fine.” She humphed. “I’ll see you tomorrow in the gym, pipsqueak!” She said to you, her voice petulant and childish, but bearing no ill-will. “Get ready for me to kick your human ass!”

“Bring it on, psycho.” You challenged, laughing at her when she threw a middle finger at you.

Training with the Ghouls went about exactly well as you thought it would to begin with. You were like a fish out of water, fucking up at every turn and ending up on your ass more times than you could count. It took you a while to get used to the ebb and flow of how each of them fought - each one going for a completely different style and throwing you off centre the moment you changed Ghoul, but eventually you got the hang of it. And while you didn’t win many of the fights, you were still learning and would one day be able to apply all of this to whenever Dew got sick and tired of you pestering him. But you were still by no means ready to face him yet.

You couldn’t say exactly how long it took you to get the hang of life with the Ghouls, learning everything you could from them in order to keep yourself as safe as possible the next time Dew hunted you for gratification. But it wasn’t just fighting techniques that they put in your arsenal. It was knowledge, valuable demon-hunting information that would come in handy and subdue Dew - not hurt him… much. But, as Cumulus said, after the length of time he led you on for, he deserved at least a little pain. And the pervert would probably appreciate it, too. Silver was the main vantage point for you. In demonic form, anything silver would sting the Ghoul like an electric shock would sting a human. Enough to stun him yet not powerful enough to do any permanent damage.

Your plan was simple: lure him back out to the cabin, tie him to a chair and wait until sunrise. This time, you’d win. You were sure of it.

You caught Dew just after practice one day while he was making his way to the cafeteria for some much needed nourishment. He was so pleased to see you, welcoming you into a warm embrace and kissing the top of your head. “Hello, my love.” He said, his voice chipper and comforting. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“No, I have about thirty minutes to kill so I thought I’d come and surprise you.” You announced through a beaming smile of your own, except yours was hiding something slightly more sinister than it should be.

Dew, however, wasn’t dumb. He knew something had to be up with you because you rarely, if ever, did this. “What do you want?”

You feigned offense. “Can a man not visit his boyfriend without a little suspicion? Honestly…” Dew remained silent but continued to stare at you. You sighed. “I was hoping you thought on the whole ‘demon shifting’ thing. It’s been so long now - I just want a definitive yes or no at this point.”

“___.” Dew groaned, his annoyance present with the tone he used. “I asked for time.”

“Dew, you’ve had time. Two shifts to be exact. It’s not fair for you to leave me hanging on like this. Just one more chance is all I ask for. It’s going to be fine, I promise you.”

“You can’t promise that - you don’t know.”

“I do know. I know that even last time, while you were in demon form, I wasn’t physically injured in any capacity, not even by you. If I fail this time, then I promise to never ask again. You won’t hear a peep out of me about it. But we both really enjoyed that night, and I want us to enjoy it again. Please?”

Dew hesitated, lost in his own head about his answer. You could see that he wanted to say yes - you knew he wanted to. All those late night fucks based solely around those few hours proved that he did. But he was still scared, still very unsure of himself when it came to his shifting and your safety. You could see the cogs in his head turning, figuring out any kind of contingencies that would help him not hurt you. But eventually, he groaned, “Fine.” Clearly apprehensive about giving his consent but did so anyway. “But, you have to promise me that you’ll call for backup this time if you need it. I want your phone on you at all times. I’ll ask them to come running when you call, okay?”

“Yes!” You celebrated. “I promise!” You leaned forward and gave him a kiss, “Thank you!”

A week later, after everything had been sorted out, the hunt was on.

You were given a minute head start just the same as last time, and so, you decided to waste none of it. This time, you were actively trying to lure him back to the cabin given that now you had items there to help you win, which now you had to. The stakes weren’t the same now - now they were much, much higher. This time, yes, it was done for some lewd reasons, but Dew’s mental health was also on the line - as was his relationship with his shifted self. Tonight had to go your way - or who knew what could happen.

This time, you remembered about his heightened sense of smell. You remembered that he could track you no matter what you did or how well you hid from him, because your clothes were exactly the same. So, hiding wasn’t much of an option - running and leaving your scent on random walls and doors was, while actively trying to avoid touching anything that could give you away completely.

You’d already made your way down to the kitchens by the time Dew had the faintest idea where you’d be. You’d kept the kitchen’s door unlocked before this all began so you could have an easy and fast escape, so you’d quickly but quietly crept downstairs and snuck into the room. Just as empty as you thought it would be. With confident steps, you wandered over to the door and pressed down on the handle.

Locked.

Your stomach dropped. It wasn’t supposed to be locked. You specifically remember running in after the last member of staff and unlocking the door again. So how could this be possible? You turned to where the key would usually sit and found it missing. In a panic, you began to search through the drawer of keys and frantically (and noisily) began your search. Your heart raced with each key that you pushed to the side, fingers wrapping around the cold metal of the handle and trying other keys in the lock that looked vaguely similar. But to no avail. The kitchen door key was missing - and you were the last one to touch it. Never mind surviving tonight, you wouldn’t survive tomorrow if Sister Imperator found out about this.

“Looking for this?”

Sharp chills ran down your spine at the sound of Dew’s voice, deep and hoarse from all the gowling he’d been doing back upstairs in his frustration over losing you. You turned quickly to find him standing there, a smug grin on his dark face exposing his white fangs to you. In his right hand, he held the key you were searching for, jingling as he shook it to emphasise his point. “I have to hand it to you,” he said tauntingly, teasingly, “You seem to be a lot more organised than last time. Trying your best, but it just isn’t good enough, is it, little one?”

“Go to Hell.” You hissed, pressing yourself into the corner of the counter and the door as Dew began taking small steps towards you.

“Been there, done that. Got the burns to prove it. Maybe I can take you there tonight, hm?”

He was incredibly close to you now, the door key only within a lose grasp. You looked at it once, then trained your eyes on his face, trying to make your plan not seem obvious. If you were fast enough, you could snatch it out of his hand, stun him, and be out of the kitchen door before he was able to recover.

“Maybe,” he continued, “I can burn you with Hellfire, too. Play a little game while you’re singing so beautifully for me.”

You stole a glance at the opposite door where Dew and yourself entered the room. Then you stole another.

Dew chuckled, a deep, guttural sound that reverberated in your ears and made your heart beat faster in fear. “I wouldn’t even think about it, my love. Do you really think you can reach that door with me boxing you in?”

“I don’t need that door.”

Before Dew had the chance to ask what you meant, you grabbed the key from his hands and, with all the strength you had in you, pushed him back a few feet, knocking him into the island counter and hitting his side. That would bruise in the morning. Because you were trying so hard to be faster, you were fumbling with the lock which wasted so much of that precious time you were hoping to save. But, eventually, you managed to unlock the door and throw it open so you could launch yourself out of it. You felt Dew’s hand on your arm, stopping you from leaving and tripping you up in your struggle to get away from him, making you land on the soft and freshly fallen snow. He was able to clamber on top of you, pinning you into the ground again, a sadistic smile on his lips.

“Gonna fuck all that fight out of you, you little shit!” He exclaimed as he started pressing all his weight onto your body.

You kept fighting him, your brain momentarily forgetting everything you’d learned with the other Ghouls, but once you recalled what you needed, you bucked your hips up, pushing him upwards over your body, wrapped your arms around his middle and flipped him off you, using that moment of brief bewilderment to make your escape. This time, you were successful.

“You cunt!” You heard him shout as you made your way through the snow-covered grounds and into the forest, determination and adrenaline coursing through your veins. “I’m gonna fucking get you. You better hope I never catch your sorry ass!”

It wasn’t long until you heard his footsteps crunching in the snow behind you, catching up to you just as quickly as he did the first night. But he only gained a great deal of distance when the cabin was in reach. With Dew almost immediately behind you, you threw the cabin door wide open, but never had the chance to close it again. Dew’s hand came in between the door and the frame, pushing it open further and sending you back into the centre of the room.

“Bringing us here again, hm? I’m not entirely convinced you’re as smart as you make out to be. Trapping yourself here with me a second time. You didn’t forget what I did to you, did you? How I took your body exactly how I wanted it.”

“Please don’t hurt me.” You pleaded with him, backing yourself up to the middle of the room and luring him further inside. You slowly made your way towards the chair that you’d already set up, trying not to make your plan too obvious. If Dew had figured you out, he didn’t say anything.

“Hurt you?” He laughed. “Oh my sweet, naive little boy. I’m not gonna hurt you - but I will make you scream.”

As he moved closer to you, he backed you up to the chair and grabbed hold of your wrist. “I’ll claim my prize now.” He told you, sitting onto the chair and pulling you onto his lap. It wasn’t particularly comfortable, given your monastic habit was still in the way, but he’d unknowingly pout himself right where you wanted him anyway, so you didn’t make any fuss at all. Letting him think that he’d won was perfect. He didn’t suspect a thing.

As quickly as your body could muster, you reached blow the chair and pulled out the chunky, silver chain that you’d stowed underneath it, realizing that the window of opportunity was closing more rapidly than you’d initially anticipated. The one hand of his that had been wrapped around your wrist was the first to be bound in the chain. He tried to buck you off him at the pain and escape imminent confinement, but you’d been much faster than him, and as pushing all of your weight onto his body, making it almost impossible for him to actually escape. Then, you wrapped the chain around the back bars of the chair a few times before turning your attention to his other hand.

Tying the second hand was a lot trickier than the first, because this time he’d regained a little more of his strength and was fighting back against you. He clawed at your skin, trying to get you to back off him and give him the chance to escape, but despite it all, somehow, you managed to get his second hand tied and secured behind the chair, like a prisoner detained by the mafia. He was secured, and the silver ensured he’d not be able to escape you.

You got off him and stood back, surveying your work and making sure everything was tight enough to keep him restrained, but lose enough that he wouldn’t be in constant pain, before heading to the cabin door, closing it, and locking it. Victory had sunk in, and your confidence had skyrocketed. “Maybe you should think twice about following people into cabins so far away from any help.” You taunted. The look on his face was incredible - he was livid.

“Let me go right now, or I swear to the Dark Lord himself I’ll personally rearrange your insides.” The hissed through gritted teeth.

The shift in power dynamics was enough to make your body come alive with excitement, the tension coiling in your stomach and sending blood rushing to your core. In that moment, looking at him helpless, angry, and a little afraid - you understood it. You saw why his demonic form liked tormenting you during these games. The power was going straight to your head and fuelling your desire to have your way with him, tied to that chair, helpless and practically begging for your touch.

You smiled, “I think I’ll claim my prize now.” You echoed his words from before, watching as his eyes widened when he realized your intentions.

He had never been in that position before: he’d never had to sit or lie there and take it. Usually he was the one dishing it out and it made him feel powerful, it made him feel Satan’s affections were justified because his strength was valuable. But now, he was tied with a silver chain to a chair, watching a mortal remove his habit and reveal his naked body, a naked body Dew loved to ravish, but usually as the party in charge. Despite all of this, he couldn’t help his cock growing at the sight of you climbing back onto his lap, your bare sex rubbing over his clothed length, getting him harder and more prepared for you by the second - and the prospect of you using him this time, of course. He closed his eyes and bit back his moan as you rutted against his centre, trying not to let it show just how good you were starting to make him feel - but it was obvious by the way he went completely silent, purposefully biting his lip just to make his point.

“Poor thing,” you teased, your tone taking on a condescending tone, “can’t do anything about it, can you? Have to sit there and take the humiliation of being bested and fucked by a human.” You chuckled and leaned forward, taking his ear between your teeth and biting gently. This allowed your bare shoulder to reach his mouth, which he took advantage of and bit down upon. It was a soft bite, around the same force he’d usually use when he was in his human form. Though, the sharpness of his fangs made a small trail of blood slip from the would, causing you to jump back. You looked at the wound before turning back to him, grasping his chin in your hand so that his chin was resting on the curve of your thumb as it swooped up to join the rest of your hand. “Am I going to have to gag you as well, or can we keep our fangs to ourselves?”

The power really was going to your head. There you were, condescending an ancient demon who could rip you in half with the same effort as a human would snap a toothpick, and yet the whole time you had a confidence befitting a colonizing Englishman - you were, in that moment, invincible. So what harm could it do to poke the bear a little more?

“When I get out of this-“

“You’ll be a human.” You interrupted, grinding down a little more against his erection. He bucked his hips but it only added to both of your pleasure, making him groan from the back of his throat. “You’ll enjoy this more if you stop fighting me.”

His bulge was ever prominent against your heat, and it dragged deliciously against that sweet spot that had you crying out loud. You lifted your hips just enough to slide your hand in between you both, cupping his cock and messaging over the uniform. “I think we should free the beast, hm? Do you want that?”

Dew didn’t answer, looking at you with total petulance.

You reached round and pulled on his hair, tugging it back and lifting his face to look directly at you, forcing his obsidian eyes to look directly into your own. “Answer me.”

“Yes.”

“Yes… what?”

You saw the moment where he swallowed his pride for the sake of his pleasure, manifesting in a literal gulp. “Yes, I want you to… release me.”

“From these chains? No can do.”

He sighed, frustrated. “Take my fucking cock out and fuck me already.”

You laughed at him. “Not if you have that attitude.”

He began to fight against you and the chains again, clearly wanting to bend you over and show you what real domination looked like - but you’d tied it too strong, and using pure silver, too. He didn’t stand a chance. “What more could you possibly want from me?”

“I want you to beg for it. I want you to whimper and moan like a pathetic little bitch to his human partner about how much his cock aches for me. I want you to cry, and whine, and moan, and curse me for how good I make you feel, putting you in your place for the first time in however many centuries it’s been. I’ll only ask you once more - do you want me to fuck you?”

His voice came out as a whimper, exactly as you’d asked, but it certainly wasn’t intentional. When the tiny, “please” fell from his mouth, you sprang into action, pulling out his monstrous girth with both of your hands and grinning at the sight of him. Fuck, you missed it. You’d been dreaming about those ridges for weeks - months maybe. You needed to feel like you were being split in two again. You needed to bounce on that cock and take him for all your own pleasure.

You were almost clinical with the way you moved. There was no romance, no seductive show, nothing short of demeaning and… ironically dehumanising the way you spat on his cock. Three globs of spit that were smeared up and down his shaft, coating him to get him sloppy enough to sink down upon. When you wrapped both of your hands around his length and rubbed, you watched his entire body tense as though he was struggling to keep it together under the most intense torture. With the leftover spit, you plunged three of those fingers deep inside your heat, stretching yourself out to take him all.

You set a slow pace, infuriatingly slow, as you sank down on him. Taking in his head, then stopping and waiting. You never told Dew what you were waiting for, and so he would get more and more agitated the longer you waited. He tried rutting his hips up to bury himself inside you, but you pulled completely off him and forced him to settle back down. Eventually, he realized you were waiting for him to react: a whimper, a whine, a groan. Some kind of verbal acknowledgment to get you to sink down just a little further, to take ridge after ridge after ridge until you had sunk down completely, swallowing him whole and leaving nothing left to offer - up until the knot at least.

Dew was trying his hardest to hold back his moans, but you were gripping him so tightly, so deliciously, he couldn’t help but let them out. Ragged breathing and whining as though he were a wounded animal, but whatever he sounded like then, it was nothing compared to when you started bouncing on him. When his tip was hitting the very back spots, bruising you in the most delightful way.

“Look at you,” you cooed, “taking it all like a good boy.” You let out a particularly loud moan when his head hit the back of your walls. “Does it feel good? Do you feel so good deep inside me, hm?”

“F-feels - fuck - feels good!” He finally admitted, teeth clenched and growls decorating his speech.

He hated submission, hated being dominated by someone who the Hells would consider unworthy. But that was also half of the reason his cock was hard in the first place. He longed to touch you. To rest his hands on your hips and guide your bouncing. To run his hands all over your body without restraint and restriction. Every now and then, when the dull ache in his wrists had been smothered by the overwhelming pleasure your tightness was bestowing upon him, he would forget that he was bound and chained to the chair and would move his hands to rest upon your body, but would feel the sting of the silver and cry out in a startling mix of pain and pleasure. Yet there he was, fully and completely submitting to a human, of all creatures, taking pleasure in the chains that were once designed to burn him.

“You’re so fucked up for liking this.” You mocked, as you lifted your hips and kept them there, hearing his choked sobs as he tried to rut upwards, chasing your warmth like an addict. “What an adorable little slut you’ve become.”

You moved your own hand down to your bundle of nerves, touching yourself frenziedly in your desperation to cum around his cock. Your movements had become shallower, taking only the first third of his cock this time instead of hitting the tip of his knot, which had now swollen ready to plug you up at a moment’s notice. You had half a mind to ruin his orgasm, but come sunrise you were already in a world of hurt, you decided better of it. Perhaps you could save that for next time.

The closer you got to your own climax, the further back down his shaft you slid, preparing yourself once again for the extra burn of his knot when it finally popped inside of you. You continued to chip way at yourself, allowing him to take the lead when it came to his own cock, feeling him use the opportunity to rut desperately into you and hurtle towards his end, which would end up coming sooner rather than later.

As you came around him, your body shuddered and tightened, squeezing his girth and choking his head. Your free hand clutched onto his body for purchase, fingernails digging into his skin and leaving dark welts in their wake. That, combined with the throbbing from the chains, caused Dew to empty himself inside you with a deep, demonic growl you’d never heard from any of the Ghouls before. He bucked into you so hard, his knot stretched you more than it had the first time you took it, causing you to cry out at the piercing feeling. At that moment, you looked at his face: his eyes were shut tight, his muscles were tense and spasming, his face was contorted in beautiful agony as he painted your walls white. His orgasm, miles more powerful than your own, lasted what felt like forever, until his body relaxed and shattered breaths escaped his lungs.

When his knot had finally deflated, and you were free to climb off him, you dressed yourself in your habit and curled up on his lap, waiting for the orange hues of dawn to spill through the cabin window and make it easier for Dew to shift back. He’d passed out, exhausted from the strain and the torment you’d put him through, but deeply and completely satisfied. And so, in the quiet waiting of the sun’s arrival, you cuddled into his chest and allowed sleep to overtake you, only to be awoken again by Dew’s stirring.

The next time you opened your eyes, he was back in his human form, arms wrapped around your body where they’d fallen out of the chain. You’d forgotten that his human self was much smaller than his demonic self. You looked up at him, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and yawning, feeling a twinge of pain in your back from the hours of bad posture.

You smiled at him. “I think I won that round.” You gloated triumphantly.

“I think you did, too.” He agreed. His tone was playful, but you could still feel that something was off.

“Did I overdo it?”

“Fuck no!” He exclaimed a little too quickly. “No, absolutely not. Human form or not, we’re doing that again.” You both laughed.

“What’s wrong?”

He sighed and kissed your forehead. “I have a lot of training to do to control myself when I’ve shifted - especially for the next time we do this.”

You nodded. “I’m here every step of the way, Dew. I can handle that - I proved that last night.”

He smiled. “You did. Come on, we’d better rest before we head back.”

Previous Part ⛧ Realm of Souls Masterlist

Commissions are open! ⛧ Memberships ⛧ Tip Jar

80 notes · View notes

dreadsuitsamus · 1 year

Text

imagine meeting sephiroth's wintry eyes as your swords lock together. he's menacing, devious as ever as he enjoys fighting you. your lover from long ago, lost to many things you can't wrap your head around, stands before you with an aura that's different than before

his eyes smile more than his lips, which are still curved into an amused smirk. you're as good as ever, to no surprise— even with your years on the low and out of action from severe injury, you're pristine. a quality soldier in your own right, and with the face of an angel

he had once loved you for a reason

a bead of sweat trickles down the side of your face as your swords press together, the scar of your near-fatal, permanent injury from the past irritated at every breath you take during this fight; to lose to sephiroth is to die, and you are not willing to die in the face of a man without his right mind

you had once loved him too

sephiroth shifts, his strength superior to your rusty body, your face is cupped in the palm of his hand and masamune still clutched in his fist, cast behind him. his close proximity nearly lulls you into an image of the past, when his eyes bore love rather than an insane monster's hatred for humanity

perhaps you still want to love him

sephiroth's thumb swipes along a scar on your cheek, one he personally created many moons ago. scars were part of life, especially with the vigorous training you used to do, though sephiroth still insisted an apology each time a guilty pang hit him at the sight of the mark

perhaps... he remembers that feeling

he kisses you, silver hair descending in a curtain around your faces. the clatter of your sword on the ground is a subtle ringing in the background as your chest is penetrated by the sharp point of sephiroth's blade

mercy

he still loves you after all

#sephiroth x you #sephiroth x reader #tbh idk what this is!!#this situation just hooked onto me as i watched his smash reveal trailer #he looked absolutely stunning in that shot when he and cloud are locked in a standstill #sephiroth

283 notes · View notes

hongjoongscafe · 1 year

Text

Bloody Love...

Chapter: IV-Secrecy-

♠︎Pairing: yandere!king!jungkookxoc(coronis)

♠︎Genre: angst, smut, yandere, gore, dark romance, horror, creepy (dark fantasy).

♠︎Summary: "you happen to be in a world where wrong is right and right is wrong."

♠︎Word count: 5.3k+

♠︎Warning: murder (decently graphic?), implied smut, good old stalking.

♠︎Note: lemme know if you wanna be added to the permanent or specific taglist!

♠︎Masterpost

♠︎Serieslist

Power. It was something Jungkook loved with his whole heart. He could set the whole place on fire and no one could point a finger at him. He knew what he was and what he could do.

This power was the sole reason why he came this far. What was the use of power if he was not going to use it? He wanted every single breathing thing to know what he held. He loved when they shivered whenever he and his men would go around. There was another type of intoxication.

However… Nothing could reach up to the level of Coronis.

She was his new obsession and nothing was going to stop him from making her his. People felt like venom to him but she… She was the sweetest essence he ever experienced. He was a man who always got drunk by massacring his commoners.

However.

Coronis was not one of those. At first glance, he wanted to take her and just make her sit in his bed and keep on looking at her.

Her black, fierce eyes were looking into his eyes with a burn that he felt in his heart. His world paused and his inner demons calmed down after years and years of screaming. For the first time in his life, he felt that heat. The very heat that made him kill his own guard just for a crying girl who was crying for mercy for her sister.

Coronis.

A content sigh left his lips. His fingers itched to feel her cold skin against them again. He was thirsty to hold her up against his naked self and explore her every inch. His ears wanted to hear her moan his name. Her intoxicating self was enough to make him feel like a stupid virgin who saw a naked girl for the first time.

In the night sky, when foggy stars would dully twinkle, he would see her face carved on them. His heart would run miles, wanting to see his shining moon through those shabby bushes and into her slot where she would be sleeping like an angel.

“When will the day come when I will hold her here in my bed?” he let another exaggerated sigh while playing with her clothes. He was so proud of her. He felt like she would never betray him ever. But what if she did? Would she meet the fate others met?

“Jimin-ah…” he supported himself on his elbow as he looked at the man by his door. “Make sure to keep an eye on my little birdy. Make sure she doesn't fly away from home.” He said in his dulce voice.

“Taehyung along with Lando is already making sure to keep an eye on her grace. Two men, Jay and Stephen are on duty taking care of it. We will make sure nothing out of your liking happens,” said Jimin. “It was heard that her grace doesn't come out of her shack as often. She usually stays back and works.”

“Hm… Is that so,” he smirked. “Isn't she already a good girl… My little good girl.”

Nobody could see her the way he did. No one is no more allowed to touch her anymore. She belonged to him and he loathed it whenever someone touched his possessions.

A knock on the door shook him out of his head. Jimin slightly opened the door. His Highness saw Mingyu whispering something. Shortly, Jimin closed the door and turned towards him. “Your Majesty,” he began. “Amos is caught. They are waiting for your word.”

He hummed merrily. “Dungeon is good, don't you think? The boisterous dungeon.”

Jimin felt his hands sweating. He waited for a moment to see whether this was his final command. When his highness looked at him with a raised eyebrow, he cleared his throat. “As you wish, my lord.”

The guard opened the door slightly and passed on the command before shutting it close. The devil was going to overtake tonight. The one who was worse than he usually was. He was the devil that no one outside of the castle saw.

The sharp smirk on his face as he got up from his bed. His naked form walked towards the door in his room that had his attire. He dressed his lower body, keeping his chest bare. He didn't want to make a mess on his clothes but rather on his body.

Tonight, he was going to play and colour himself with blood.

…

Creepiness. It was crawling up her back like a spider. Our brains are built in a way that we can feel someone staring at us from a distance. When that happens, it gives an eerie feeling in our guts. It makes us want to look around and know the source of it.

That's how Coronis felt for days and there was no end. If it wasn't him, then someone else was constantly watching. She was getting agitated by this constant feeling.

When others watched, it was never as intense as his glare. Others felt ineffectual but his glare made her want to crawl under the ground and never come back.

The day she looked into his eyes was the day she felt like she got herself into something deep but now she realized that it wasn't just something deep but a whole hell hole. She stepped into the way of hell. She just hoped for an exit.

“What do you think would look better on me? Grey or this greenish white?” Nori asked Coronis as she stood with two gowns against her sides.

She looked up and examined the two dresses. It was Nori's cousin’s wedding in a few days. She was going to go to another village to attend it. They both were not happy to be away from each other for so long. So Nori asked her cousin if she could bring someone with her and they agreed.

But Coronis couldn't agree to attend the ceremony because she still had to prepare bread for the king. So it was impossible for her to go. Nori eventually decided to only go a day before the wedding and return after attending the ceremony.

“This green would look pretty on you. It compliments you so well!” Nori smiled and sat beside her. “You can wear anything and it will look beautiful… A dress only needs a gorgeous body to look good and you have that. Your pretty face will look the prettiest of all.”

They giggled. “I wish you could come with me.”

Nori lay down, resting her head on her lap. Coronis threaded her fingers through her hair and admired her soft features. She felt like a sweet dream. In a village full of monstrosities, she was a heavenly wind. Her words were sweeter than honey, and her voice was melodious which made Coronis want her to speak and never shut up.

“His Highness is too ruthless to let me go. He will probably wipe me out in front of your eyes for not providing him with his bread on time… Even though it is for three nights, I will miss you,” she kissed her forehead. “I wanted to see you all dressed up and ready for the ceremony.”

“Yeah? What do you think how will I look like?”

“Hmm… The prettiest of all. You can just go as is and you will look the most magnificent, pretty thing ever. No one can ever be so beautiful as you.”

Nori sat up straight facing Coronis. “You know who I think the prettiest is?” Coronis shook her head. “You. You are the most enchanting person I have ever seen. Your deep black eyes, those jet black long locks… a kind heart. Everything you touch becomes cosmic.”

Coronis chuckled shyly, “It's just because of your attraction towards me. I'm not what you say.”

Nori pulled her closer, caressing her cheek with her thumb and resting her forehead against hers, “You don't realize just yet. But you are the prettiest. Everybody wants a piece of you,” she let out a tiny chuckle. “I don't even know how I got so fortunate to get the whole of you. I just- I feel glad that you are here with me… I never want to let you go… Ever.”

Coronis pulled her chin and softly captured her lips in a warm kiss. Nori hummed and threaded her fingers through Coronis's hair. The moment for them was vehement. Their hands on each other, exploring their love.

The pang of guilt smothered Coronis. She was indeed putting Nori in this situation of vexation even though she (Nori) did not even realize it with the very little knowledge she had of Coronis. But was it really worth telling her about the demon that was breathing down her neck? Wouldn't it push Nori away from her? She couldn't afford that mental strain. It felt like she was her first hope of happiness.

Maybe just a little bit more.

“Coronis…” Nori pulled away. “Please, a little bit more…” she whispered.

“Tell me what you want, love,” Coronis tucked her hair behind her ear.

“You… All of you, please,” she begged her as she guided her hands towards her breasts. “Touch me a bit more.”

Moans and whimpers were all they could hear. For an extent of time, they forgot the horrors of the world and gave in to each other. The lingering touch woke their twisted sides. No matter how forbidden their relationship was, they let it cross the limits within the secrecy of their minds.

Coronis felt that if she let go of Nori's hand, she would lose her forever. Throughout these years, she had only been worrying about things. There was not a single day when she was not selfless. She spent her life taking care of and protecting the people she loved so dearly. At the end of the day, it was all draining. She felt unloved by people. Somewhere deep down, she needed affirmation of love, maybe just someone listening to her would be enough. But that never happened.

Nori was not only a sweet girl she saw on rare walks to the market but much more than that. However, her spiralling mind couldn't stop bothering her. Was it really love or just the vulnerability of the moment she caught her? Could she ever justify the feelings she had for Nori? Though she was forcing herself to figure it out, it still lacked the heat.

But then again, she never felt as assured in anyone's arms.

“Time flies by so fast,” Nori said as Coronis helped to tighten her corset from behind. “I wish we could just stop here and never stop existing together…” Nori licked her lips. “Don't you think- like,” she awkwardly chuckled. “That we belong together?”

Coronis's hands stopped. Her eyes stayed unfocused. “Do we?”

“Mhm,” Nori smiled and nodded her head ‘adorable’. “I think so. We are perfect! We might be so different, but that is what makes us entire. It's like–”

“You are the golden hour and I'm the stormy night,” she said.

Nori turned around, looking deep into her eyes, she said, “No. It's like we are separated swans that are meant to be together. Now, fate is bringing us together because you and I belong together. In the end, we are not that distant. Apart from some minor things, we are alike. I- I don't think that anybody could ever understand how we understand each other. I know that you are hiding so much from me,” her eyes were gloomy, thinking about things to herself for a bit but she shook her head and continued with a smile, “But that's entirely okay! We both have never been so intimate with anyone and now it feels new. And it takes time to open up emotionally. I understand that. I, too, have so much to tell you. That is how it works, isn't it? We wait for each other as long as it takes to be on the same page…”

“How far are we?” Coronis asked. “How far are we from being on the same page?”

Nori's mouth slightly opened to answer but nothing came out. They kept looking into each other's eyes. It felt like forever. What was she even supposed to answer? She didn't know whether Coronis shared the same feelings as her. In the end, their relationship began with being intimate with each other when they both were helpless, feeling the most down. As much as Nori knew she loved her, did she love her or at least like her? Or was it just infatuation for Coronis?

Nori's eyes blinked barely as she answered in a lazy whisper, “Why does that matter? As long as we are together… I think we– we,” tears brimmed her eyes as she looked down, hiding her face from Coronis. “I think we should keep on going like this till we feel like we are on the same page.” Maybe Nori could be a little selfish this time.

It felt like every day was getting trickier and trickier. Nothing made sense anymore. There were only two paths for Coronis but both felt sour. No matter what she chose, she was aware that chaos would happen. Her life was getting darker than the night. This was supposed to make her feel alluring. However, day by day, it became ghastly. It stifled her.

She knew that that man held power above any of them, just a little less than the King. If she betrayed him, which she was doing, he would bring hell to her doorstep and make her feel every inch of it. But if she went with Nori, she was afraid of what could happen. There was no right answer to what he would do to her or Nori.

No matter what she chose, it was going to be tempestuous, causing many inhumane steps to hurt whoever came in the way.

Nothing shall happen to Nori.

But wouldn't she break her heart by giving her hope now and then going away? Could she take it? Was Nori, the oh-so-kind-hearted little flower, able to take her perfidy? Coronis didn't know her own intentions for what they both have. Although, she knew she cherished the delicate lady with her whole heart. But was it possible to share the same sentiment as her?

Coronis shook herself out of her train of thought. “I think I should leave,” she said as she pulled the saddened body into her embrace. “We can sort it out when you come back. But there is still some time left. You must not think so far… Let's just live in what we have right now rather than worrying about tomorrow.”

She later smiled and looked up after wiping her eyes. “Mhm,” she pecked Coronis's lips. “I won't worry.”

Spending a little more time in each other's arms, Coronis took her leave, carrying twice as much burden back. Though she visited Nori to feel better just like before, now her heart was aching for another reason.

The walk back to her shack was a little distant. It took her no time to feel those creeping eyes on her. She looked around and caught a pair of eyes behind her at a decent distance. It was not him. She was getting used to getting stalked all the time. As much as her insides shivered, she didn't let it show outside. She looked like a cold-hearted person.

Keeping these creepers aside, her mind drifted towards another strain that was created.

“Coronis? Where did you get that locket from, that you were wearing yesterday?” Martha questioned as Coronis returned after seeing off Nori.

Coronis froze on her spot and looked Martha, dead in the eye. This was not supposed to happen. No one needed to know about any of this so how did she know about the locket? She could not even lie about it knowing it was made out of precious metal. Thinking for a second, she played dumb. “What do you mean? What locket?”

Martha sighed. “Do not act like that, Coronis.”

“I'm not acting like anything!” she exclaimed, already feeling on the edge of her emotions.

“Do you think I'm stupid? I have eyes and I see everything! What exactly are you hiding from me, Coronis?! I saw how you were wearing that forbidden thing around your neck! So please, tell me what is going on,” Martha stressed and held Coronis's arms.

“It's nothing that you should know,” She shoved her hands away and walked towards her slot.

“Coronis, you stay here! I'm talking to you!” Martha was losing her cool.

“And I am done! As I said there is nothing that you should know! Leave me alone!” She did not want to bring her family into her mess. It was already tough for her to go through this and letting anyone know about this would only bring weight to her burden.

“I'm your mother!” Martha screamed. “I deserve to know what you are doing behind my back! Are fucking one of the men?! Why did he save Circe even though he had no reason to save her? Or are you going behind my back and being whore for all?! Is that what it is, right? There is no way things could work the way they did!”

Coronis was tormented after hearing what her mother had to say. Her brain stopped working and all she could hear were her mother's words. They echoed and mocked her over and over again. “Do you really think so lowly of me?” she asked with a low, shivering voice.

Martha scoffed. “What else am I supposed to think of you? Huh? No wonder why people talk about you like a puppet. They must have seen you fooling around.”

Coronis laughed like a maniac. Tears flowed down her cheek as her laughter got higher. “You,” she choked on her words. “You really are something else! This place, this hell of a place sees every single person with a cunt as a puppet that they can fuck and throw around! But you are so wrong about me. I can't believe you call me your daughter and yet you know nothing about me! Even if I don't tell you something that does not concern you, you should have some faith in me. I spend my time making sure you all are not hurt. I even take care of Circe and beg for mercy just to keep this family alive!” her breath huffed. She felt like someone was holding her neck and choking her to death. “Do you want to know what is going on?” She took sharp steps towards her mother. “Do you want to know about the locket? Okay then, listen to me carefully… I won't repeat myself ever again.”

Martha listened to Coronis. She told her every single detail of what she had been going through since the day she made eye contact with him. Mother's heart slowly started to break until it was totally shattered beneath her feet. She regretted every single insult she threw at her daughter. She could not put her voice into words, they were too hurtful. She had never been in Coronis's place. She could not relate to what she was saying.

“Do you even know what it feels like to get watched every moment? To feel someone's eyes on you constantly?! I can't even breathe without someone noting it down. I'm tired! Okay?! I am not being a whore around! I'm just trying to survive without troubling any of you!” Coronis wiped her tears. “You know what? Don't talk to me for a while. I need time for myself.”

With that, she barged into her slot and banged her door closed, leaving no room for any more connections.

Since that day, Martha started to overly protect the house. She would cover the windows all the time, the shack always looked gloomy and that scared Circe. This was exactly why she didn’t want to tell her about the whole ordeal.

Martha’s paranoia was making everyone sceptical of things and Coronis was devastated. She had to make excuses on behalf of her mother to justify her actions. She would try to minimize Coronis's outside trips to the market which only made her work lousier. She was limited on material for the bread, too, just because her mother was not letting her out.

It wasn't saving Coronis. She had a feeling that this might end up stabbing her in the back.

…

The loud thud of the dungeon door echoed under the castle ground. The footsteps were coming closer with every second, making everyone around eerily silent.

Boisterous dungeon.

It was a place where his majesty played his wicked games. No one wanted to be called in this place. Only the people working in the castle knew what brutality happened there. This was the core of hell.

“Amos,” a raspy voice of his majesty resounded in the dungeon, making every single soul shiver. “Long time, no see… Hm? Where have you been?” He asked as he stepped in front of the man who was chained up. His hands were locked above his head with heavy chains, and his feet were chained to the ground.

The dungeon was reflecting orange from the flames of the flame torches hanging on the walls. There was no window or anything from where the natural light could come in. Anyone could go crazier than before if they spent a few days in it. It was a death trap in itself. And the king just made it stay true to it.

Amos trembled like a leaf. “L-lord Jeon, f-for-forgive me pl-please,” he begged.

He chuckled at his pathetic words. Circling him around, he held the tied man’s cheek in his hand and caressed it with his thumb. The blood drained from his face. From far away, they might look like a couple into freaky kinks. One was naked and tied up and the other's torso was bare.

“Ah…” his highness sighed. “I have been itching to feel you against my skin, Amos. Finally, I can touch you.” His hand ran down his chest, digging his nails into his skin. “Why are you scared of me, hm? What is it that you wronged? Tell me… I might let you go,” he whispered near his ear.

“Y-you will?” Amos asked.

“Mhm, why can't I make an exception for my best man,” he made a little distance between them, “In the end, you are one of my men… So come on, be a good man and tell me everything.”

Amos thought for a moment before gulping. He looked into his dark, maniacal orbes. There was an odds for him to get away with this. “I… Um, I said th- things th-that I shouldn't have.”

“What are those things, Amos,” his sweet voice relaxed the weak man. “Say it all.” He walked towards a table in the corner of the dingy place and opened it, back facing Amos. The King sounded like a lover with that honey-kissed voice he spoke with.

“I said that his grace l-looked… Looked,” he coughed. “Looked… Like fine meat.”

“Mhm, keep going,” he said. “And tell me why you said that?”

“The day when you checked up on her grace for the first time, I saw her,” he hesitated. “I saw her naked.”

His Highness giggled like a child. “Yeah? I think I brought you with me so that you could keep an eye outside… Not inside.”

“It was a misfortune!” he quickly exclaimed. “I was just checking on you but my eyes fell on her form!”

“Okay,” he sighed and frowned his lips. “I think I heard you say something the day she was begging for mercy.”

Amos's last hope left his body just when his words left his mouth and turned around with a lethal smirk and a hunting knife in his hand.

In the light whispers of the village, the painful cries of a child echoed for a person named Coronis. He was on his horse along with his men when these cries distracted him from his work. Though, he would not usually go and check it himself knowing his men are doing their work when someone becomes a hurdle in their way.

However, he caught a familiar figure running towards the crowd and fought her way into the deeper core. His body worked before his mind could and guided his horse there.

The back of his man was towards him and was holding a little girl who was wailing. Then he heard a voice that broke his stone heart a little. He squinted and saw another woman who was begging on her knees and hands folded.

“Please, I beg your mercy! She is a child. She doesn't know much. Please, let her go! Take me instead! Kill me, not her!”

It was her.

All he could see was red. Who had the audacity of making his pretty girl beg such a low caste? He could not bear seeing her beg like this in front of the whole village. He could see how she let herself down for a child that now he felt hostility toward.

He hated the child for bringing this situation to his sweet girl. He wanted to strangle her and make her realize but knew better than that. Coronis would not like it.

So he did a good job as he got off his horse and pulled his sword out. They say when you pull your sword out of the sheath, it yearns for blood. It screams bloody murder and who is he to make his sword pity for it. He would give whatever his sword wants. Just like that, when he took his next breath, he took one away.

The whole village fell silent. Not a single being dared to utter a word. Never in a million years has this happened. But he was not the one to explain himself to anyone. He was about to turn around when Coronis kneeled in front of him and thanked him for sparing that ungrateful girl’s life. And she cried and cried loudly.

Through all of this chaos, he heard Amos say something that made his eye twitch.

“She looks so fine begging like this. I would fuck her when I can make her beg for mercy like this,” Amos had whispered.

“You called it upon yourself, Amos,” he chuckled. “I don't care why you hid away from me because it is the least of my worries. But do you really think that you can look at my princess and fucking fantasize about her like this?! See her naked like that and expect me to be fine with it? Thinking about fucking a girl that is mine, do you even realize who you are playing with?”

Amos could not get a word out. He knew he was done for. It was too late to defend himself from anything his useless mouth said or button eyes saw.

The King held the tied man’s chin tightly, “you looked at her with these eyes, right? You saw her naked with these eyes. I don't think you deserve them anymore, Amos.” He whispered.

The utter panic painted Amos's face. The dread settled in much clearer than before. He came aware of what was going to happen and he was sweating out of it. “No, no no. Please, I beg you. Please! I have got a wife and kids to take care of!”

“Where were they when you were thinking about fucking my princess?!” The King roared. “Did you not think of them when you were eyeing what was mine!?”

“Please have mercy on me, I will be better. I won't look around! Please!”

A wicked smirk widened on his face, “isn't it great that I'm the last person you are going to see?” he said as he brought his knife closer to his eyes. “Now let's say goodbye to these.”

“No!” a piercing scream echoed throughout the castle, shaking the hearts of all. They were accompanied by the loud laughter of the King who was enjoying tearing apart every single vein in the traitor's body.

The King wanted him to remember this in his next life. He wanted his soul to fear and tremble every time. Nobody could get away from him. And he wanted this to be copied into everyone's useless brains.

The knife did not show any mercy. Just like other times, it gashed the quavering man again and again. His eyes were gone, his throat was cut open. There were punctures in his heart. But the King did not stop.

“This. Is. What. You. Get. For. Messing. With. Me,” he screamed. His irises were blown out, his eyes were bloodshot, his face red from rage, and body covered in blood. He enjoyed it. He loved the metallic scent on him. He laughed and laughed like a madman that he was.

No one, absolutely no one could stand in front of him let alone think about touching his obsession. His ego was hurt. Even though Amos knew that that girl belonged to his highness, he still dared to think of touching her in ways that only he could. It was a shame on the king and he was rectifying that now.

His men or not, he did not care. The only thing he cared about now was Coronis and nothing else. There was no other being that he cared about. “Fucking remember this for an eternity, you bloody bastard. Never ever raise your eyes towards my princess!” he made sure that the dead man would get nightmares filled with him, haunting every single day and reminding him of his sins. “You let me down, Amos. I thought you were my loyal dog but you just turned out to be a fucking filth who pissed on me,” he stabbed him again and again. “You wanted your useless filthy dick inside of a goddess, now take this. This is what you get for thinking like that. She is mine and only mine. Get this thing into your thick skull!”

After hours, everything fell silent. He was sitting there in the puddle of fresh blood that he drained. He was feeling delighted again. The ego hicked above the skies. He kept looking at the man whose insides were hanging out. He loved it. He loved how pathetic loser was dead and cut open in front of him. He loved how he could see the gashes on his organs and how the blood was draining out of them like water out of bucket. This is what he loved. He wanted to do more but he had better things to do tonight.

He wanted to see how his little princess was doing. She was clouding his mind all the time. Her face would appear in front of his eyes all the time. Regardless of what he was doing, he would think about her and pause every thing. No one had enough balls to make him do otherwise. All he cared for was his little princess who needed to be protected by any means and he was there to do it.

Not a single person could get in between them. Or else he would make sure they met a worse fate than Amos. More painful death than anyone ever before.

“You are only mine, my love. Once I get to keep you, nothing will ever separate us. I'll make sure you love me and I love you till the very end. I'm not playing only to see you walk away. I'm playing to get you and keep you forever with me, hidden away from the nasty world. We are one and you can not deny it, my precious.”

The King walked out of the dungeon and handed his soaked knife to one of the guards. “You know better what to do next,” he said and walked away, his chest painted in blood and a satisfied smile on his face.

He wanted to make sure everyone knew what could happen to those who look at his princess in a way no one but only he could.

“Do not ever dare to reach the thing that is mine.”

.....

Sanaa's note:

It took me a little longer to finish this chapter😅. But it's done now (phew). My flat is about 80% done. Hopefully, I'll be able to sleep in my own bed today or tomorrow. But anyhow, how are you guys? Did you enjoy this chapter? Let me know! Your feedback motivates me a lot and makes me write even more. I love you all! Feel free to talk to me and send an ask! 😊

The behaviour of all the characters is visualized.

Taglist:

@veneziamadness @cheline @sansmilkbread @jayb17 @constantlydelulusional @8tinytings @tea4sykes @chimmisbae

@darkuni63 @mageprincess7 @whipwhoops @ackercute @ane102 @kimseokjinsmirror1233 @unhingedgf @jungkooks21 @namjoonscrabjuice @yluv-damara-13 @jjkreblog @lavenderymoons @passionandsuga @posionapple24 @blueberry711 @shawtylilsalty @gukiebaby

Have a nice day/night💓

241 notes · View notes

deceptive-daydreams · 1 year

Text

Whatever She Wants; I Will Do Anything - E.M.

Eddie x fem reader

2.9K Words

Inspired by the song Graceland Too by Phoebe Bridgers. Or where you’re very good at keeping your guard up and not letting others in only to crumble under the pressure. And Eddie is there to help you put the pieces back together.

Warnings - angsty, depictions of mental illness, dark thoughts

A/N - This shit is emotional and this song has been stuck in my head for days so I had to do something with it. Any feedback is appreciated 🥹

Masterlist

— I would do anything you want me to

I would do anything for you

I would do anything, I would do anything

Whatever you want me to do, I will do

—

If you could pick the scenery to describe your own brain, it wouldn’t be a field of daisies, fresh and heavenly, or rainbows after a light summer rain, sticky but romanticized. It wouldn’t be angelic beach views with sunsets marbling the sky or even the starry night with the moon soaking the earth in its celestial light. No, these things were magnificent, pleasing to look at, easy to take in. Very unlike your brain.

Your idea would be more of a tsunami ripping everything apart, having no mercy on anything in its wake—destroying everything it touches. Emotions receding into the sea quietly before ultimately coming back in a massive wave and disrupting the quaint living of those around. Murky skies and shattered hope. People running, and running far just to avoid the disaster—the impending doom that was you. That is exactly how you’d describe your brain.

Sometimes if you were lucky there were a select few weeks in between the storms of your mind where you’d feel a sliver of relief, a drought in the ever flowing thoughts that dismantled your life. Times where there would be a glimmer of ambition and an inkling of motivation. It never lasted long, fleeing as soon as you were starting to get better. A colossal wave consuming you once again, and people would go running as they always did—the commotion of the storm too turbulent for them to brave.

And the agonizing thoughts would begin to stew at the very core of your brain. Simmering until they boiled over at random.

Too hard to love.

Useless.

Worthless.

Barely a person, a walking corpse devoid of emotion due to the burnout.

Not worthy of love.

Not worthy of anything.

I should have never even made it this far, sixteen years was my limit.

I don’t want to do this anymore, please don’t make me do this anymore.

It was all so daunting, so intimidating and heavy. It truly felt like you did not belong on this earth and there was absolutely no way to combat it other than merely surviving. Days passed and you were trapped in the endless cycle that was existing without purpose.

Your boyfriend, Eddie, sweet Eddie had a life to live and you couldn’t bear to burden him with the sorrows of your aching soul. Eventually he’d realize what a nuisance you were, how crippling your state of mind could be. He didn’t deserve to be detained by the relationship you so thought was out of pity. Ever so generous, kind, enamoring, handsome, loving, gentle, loud, assertive—everything Eddie was made of, was something you believed you never once deserved. You dreaded the day he would glance at you and come to his senses. She is too broken for me, I can’t love her.

The convincing mask you were able to automatically put on was all too familiar. Being able to physically front that you were happy when the reality of it all was that demons swam through your bloodstream and never left, only lying dormant every once in a blue moon only to come back at full force. It felt like poison, the way you would be okay one moment and suddenly in seconds you were grasping onto your sanity, clinging onto any bits of reality—of your mortal self only to be swallowed up by harsh accusations toward yourself that would have you sinking back into your bed for as long as it required. And that’s how you got so good with the mask, forcing yourself to conform to the world around you when you absolutely couldn’t rot in bed, other obligations taking priority despite the poison coursing through your body. A smile on your face, a compliment here, a joke there, sprinkled with some stupid story from the other day that always seemed to appease your audience. It was all fake and no one could sniff it out.

Until Eddie came along and he was able to detect even the slightest shift in your demeanor. Though you could throw the mask on, it didn’t always work with him and he would encourage you to take it off. You never did. Insisting I’m fine, just a little tired. Lying through your teeth. You couldn’t help it, you’d never let your guard down with anyone ever. How were you supposed to when it didn’t even feel like an option? A people pleaser to your core, you’d take your feelings with you to the grave.

The first time Eddie stumbled upon you crying, he was at a loss, not knowing how to approach the situation. Do I hug her? No, what if she doesn’t want me to? Do I hold her hand? Does she want me to leave? Did I do something? What if I made her cry? Does she want to break up? Every thought flew at him at lightning speed, practically slapping him in the face. Before any decision could be made, you sucked back the tears and used your sleeves to aggressively clear your under eyes. I’m fine, I just watched an emotional movie. Lies. Not wanting to push you further, he nodded and held you close. But he knew. You were suffering, drowning in your own fucked up world and he had no idea how to pull you out. When his own mind started suffocating him he could at least voice that he wasn’t having the best day, also being the type to never burden others with his invading thoughts. He’d leave it at that and sulk in his room but you would always sit with him, if he allowed. If not, that was okay too and he was eternally grateful.

The more he studied your behavior when you just felt off, the more he gathered the way you would often go blank during a conversation, eyes becoming void of a human and turning into a shell of yourself as you picked yourself apart internally. Anxiety looming in your eyes and hands the slightest bit shaky, he would touch his fingertips to yours in the smallest touch hoping to lure you back, praying that he didn’t overstep because god he was so scared. And when you did return, you still weren’t fully there although you claimed you were just tired. Again. He just wanted you to be happy. And you wanted to be happy.

It took almost a year into the relationship for you to even be able to ask him to come over when you wanted to just be with him. Before that it just felt like you were pestering him for attention even though that was far from the truth. You could call him just to complain about how your lunch tasted and he would savor every moment. Even still, you had your doubts about calling him or texting him, the nasty demons lurking within you telling you he didn’t care. Eddie picked up on your patterns from the very beginning and learned that the way you worded things really indicated your mood, if you were genuinely doing well or if things were bad again. A simple phrase popping up on his phone and he would bolt to you if he had the slightest inclination that you were in a pool of your own self deprecating thoughts.

Are you home? Really meant, I need you, I need you and I’m too afraid to outright say it.

Are you busy? Either meant that you wanted to go on a gas station run with him or that you wanted to vent about your family.

Want to come over? Generally translated to I’m in a good space right now and would love to spend time with you.

I love you. Told him I’m thinking about you.

Love you. Was an indicator that you were on edge, it could be because of him depending on the nature of the situation or it could just be a bad day.

Food? Was the phrase used to tell him I’m hangry and we better be getting Mexican food otherwise you better suggest something that sounds yummier.

I’m fine. Was as clear as day. I’m the opposite of fine.

So when it’s ten o’ clock at night and the cicadas are chirping outside his trailer, his fingers dancing along the neck of his guitar to a new riff he recently learned and he sees his phone light up with your name, he eagerly reaches over to pick it up and read. His eyes scan over three key words.

Are you home?

Immediately he’s setting his guitar on top of his mattress, calling you as he scrambles around his room searching for his car keys, finally locating them underneath his copy of Lord of the Rings he had been rereading earlier, tossing the book aside. The dial tone rings through his ears a few times, heart beating fast. On the other end, a meek little hey is heard along with a sniffle that you swore you would hide.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” His voice is laced with concern while he makes his way out to the living room to collect his leather jacket.

“I-I-nothing. I just—wanted to hear your voice.” Part of it is a lie. Everything is wrong and your world is crumbling as you stare out the window lifelessly. Panic is taking over while you endure thoughts about your past, present, and future. Why did I say that one thing that one time? I’m such a bad person. I should have never been born, that way I could save everyone the embarrassment. You’re instigating yourself and there’s no sign of stopping. Eddie would be happier without you, he’s too good for you, good things don’t happen to you without a price. Bullet after bullet hits your soul.

“I’m coming over.” He tells you without giving you the option to say no, the line going silent as he hangs up. This only coaxes more humiliating things out from the depths of your brain. See what you did? You ruined his night, now he’s on his way over and he’s probably so mad. He has so many better things to be doing than sitting with a cry baby.

The sobs rack your body, chest heaving and vision completely blurred with hot tears traveling down your face. You’re shaking, the words assaulting you over and over. Even if you wanted to stop crying you couldn’t, the dam was flooded. It was an oversight on your part, you didn’t need to text Eddie but you did it out of impulse. Everything suddenly becomes so overstimulating, so gross and uncomfortable. The way your clothes hug your body makes you wince, rubbing your arms to somewhat soothe yourself but it only does so much. The clutter on your bedside table aggravates you all of the sudden but there’s not any energy to straighten it up, leaving you sitting on the bed in full on breakdown mode. You’re now way too aware of your own body, yearning to immediately cease existing. A blanket once thrown over your legs is now tossed across the room, the material now disgusting you. Everything becomes unbearable.

So unbearable that you don’t even hear Eddie using his key in your front door, the hinges squeaking as he enters, or the click of the lock as he locks it again before rushing upstairs, his boots stomping on every other step. You don’t hear the bedroom door creak open as he carefully approaches, toeing off his boots near the door and then speaking to you.

“Sweetheart, what’s goin’ on?” His tone is gentle enough to soothe a baby. Shrugging his jacket off and tossing it on a nearby chair, he slowly strides closer to the bed but still keeps his distance.

All you can do is cover your face in your pathetic palms, attempting to hide away the misery you have become. A wet and whimpered I don’t know is made out from you muffling the words into your hands. His heart shatters. All he wants to do is hold you but only if you’ll allow him to. The last thing he wants to do is make it worse. The last time he saw you cry was also the first time and you’d sucked it up and brushed it off like it never happened. This was drastically different, you were a puddle of tears and snot, sobbing uncontrollably and unable to hold back any longer.

“Baby. Look at me. Just for a minute, okay?” He’s trying to convince you but you shake your head, palms still gathering tears. “Please? Please?” He begs, voice hoarse as he tries to map out a gameplan in his head. It still falls upon deaf ears. “I need you to look at me. If I’m going to help you, you need to look at me.” He leans over the bed attempting to catch your eyes. “I need you.” He speaks desperately, his own eyes becoming wet. For some reason, the phrase makes you stop for a second, makes you freeze. If he needed you, then you were going to give him anything he wanted, anything he needed. It was some type of reverse psychology that he hadn’t even realized he performed. You were falling apart but the moment he begged for help you stopped everything to be by his side.

Shock written in his features, he looks at you while you look at him, big doe eyes full of anxiety and worry. The atmosphere was stagnant at that moment. Hiccups erupted out of you but your full undivided attention was on him. He pondered his next moves carefully, not wanting to scare you off or chase you back into your corner. His next words were spoken with the utmost care.

“Tell me what you need me to do.” His voice was shaky and his eyes blinked rapidly. “I—I’ve never done this before. Please tell me what you need.” His voice wobbled on the last few words as you tried to process everything. “Whatever you want me to do, I will do.” The way his tone wavered broke you, choking out a sob before stopping yourself. You did this to him. So you force yourself to provide an answer, it’s the least you could do.

Voice cracking, you reply “Hold me.” The dam continues flooding, sending a river down your cheeks. He’s quick to crawl across the bed and gather you in his arms like the most fragile thing he’s ever held. Arms wrap around your middle to pull you in between his legs, pulling your back flush against his chest as you then maneuver your body to curl into him like he’s your bunker, face buried in his chest and trembling hands fisting his shirt.

“I’m right here, I’ve got you. I’m here.” Whispered reassurances against the top of your head as you soak his shirt in a mixture of tears and snot. He lets you cry for as long as you need, as long as you want.

“I’m always here for you. Okay? I would do anything for you.” He promises, stroking your back soothingly, placing a kiss to your temple. Everything about you is so ugly in the moment and yet, he’s so patient and warm. So attentive and loving. His gestures begin to chip at the walls you built around yourself so long ago. It would take time but he’s made the first cracks in those sturdy walls and he would spend forever helping you tear them down.

The sobs and hiccups begin to settle down, not completely but enough that you have some composure. Your wide eyes stare into his kind ones. You’re forced to recognize the unconditional love swimming in his eyes. The genuine concern for your well being and his necessity for your comfort and happiness.

“I love you.” An offer through your tears of that same love on a silver platter that he would gladly indulge in. Hand brushing against the bottom of your chin, tilting it ever so slightly while the other rests on the small of your back, he delivers a nudge of his nose against yours, a piece of his heart.

“I love you. I will always love you.” His words have a greater meaning, an oath that even through the bad times, the times where you were isolated and hated yourself, kicking yourself to the curb, he would be right there to help you back up. A brush of his thumb against a rogue tear on your cheek has you hanging onto his every action. The way he continues to use his thumbs to clean up any remnants of sadness that had been acquired over the last hour or so. How his lips curl up in fondness when you brush your fingertips along his stubbly cheek. A whispered thank you against his skin. When he lays back and pulls you onto his chest, his breathing lulling you into a post cry sleep that you very well needed, one hand running up and down your back and the other tracing shapes into your arm—calloused fingers providing every bit of comfort needed. How his lips press a kiss to your forehead. The scary thoughts were at bay for now and Eddie would without a doubt help you to battle them the next time they invaded your mind, whether it be tomorrow or next week. His words have you melting, insides gooey and sticky when he thinks you’re fast asleep but you’re really still clinging onto these last waking moments as you mold into each other.

“You’re everything I could ever ask for. I would do anything for you.”

~end~

Masterlist

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson smut #eddie x reader #vics blurbs #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x female reader

208 notes · View notes