#*clutches whatever's left of my resolve*

[cherriecove]

Cregan Stark x Targ!Reader (Part 1)

Summary: As Rhaeynera Targaryen’s only daughter you always knew that your hand would be given to whomever aided your mother and her cause. It was something that you accepted but naturally you always dreaded the day your mother would send you to your future husband, fearing whoever it would be to be cruel and old. Fortunately your worries were unfounded as your twin brother Jacaerys suggests a potential union with the Lord of the North.

Cherrie's note: Use of she/her and small mention of death/miscarriage. Feel free to give any feedback, i hope you enjoy! Masterlist | Next Part

The relentless crash of waves against the rocks below did little to mask the anguished cries echoing through the castle. Your mother, in the throes of a difficult labor, was clearly overwhelmed by the combined stress of your grandsire’s death and your uncle’s usurpation of the throne.

Entering the room with Jacaerys and Lucerys, you saw her pushing away anyone who tried to offer aid. Stepping forward, you reached out to her with urgency. “Mother, you must let them help you.”

Her gaze turned to you with a fierce, almost defiant intensity. For a moment, her eyes softened, but then she shook her head resolutely. “No, I must do this myself,” she said through gritted teeth, trying to control her breathing. “Jace, whatever happens now, you are the heir. I need you both to ensure nothing happens without my command.” Jace, his face etched with worry, nodded and guided Lucerys out of the room. As he turned back, his concern was palpable.

Your mother paced the room, rubbing her bump and muttering curses under her breath. “Mother, please,” you pleaded, “let the midwives help.” She raised a hand to silence you, her voice firm.

“I need you to go with your brothers. I swear to you, I will do everything in my power to stay with you.” With a heavy heart, you turned and left the room. As you moved down the corridor, the haunting cries of both your mother and her dragon filled the air. All you could do was pray for her survival.

Visenya’s funeral was hastily arranged following her birth. During the somber ceremony, your mother was crowned with your grandsire’s crown, and all present pledged their loyalty to her as their queen. Now, gathered around the table in Dragonstone’s main hall, those same men were voicing their demands. You stood beside Jacaerys, struggling to maintain your composure as the council debated.

“We must send for our allies, or at least secure them,” suggested an older man, his words offering a glimmer of hope amid the chaos. Your mother nodded in agreement, but another councilor quickly proposed, “We shall send out ravens—”

Jacaerys interrupted decisively. “Send us.”

Your mother looked at her eldest son, shaking her head. “No, it’s far too dangerous. I need you here.”

The resolve in Jacaerys’ eyes filled you with pride. “Jace is right. Dragons are faster than ravens, and having the Queen’s children as envoys would inspire a sense of duty among these lords.” Jacaerys smiled at you, his gratitude evident, before turning back to your mother. Exasperated by the stubbornness of her children, she finally relented.

“Luke will go to Storm’s End, and the two of you can go to the North. Lord Stark is of your age and might appreciate the companionship. Perhaps even a marriage alliance, if necessary.” She glanced at you, then back at Jacaerys. “As her older brother, it will be for you to decide, but your sister has the final say. I trust you both will fulfill your duties.”

The flight to Winterfell was long and arduous, with the air growing colder by the mile. Vermax, Jacaerys’s dragon, was particularly agitated, making his displeasure known with loud roars. In contrast, Mithrax, your dragon, remained surprisingly calm. Although they were siblings from the same clutch, Mithrax often served as the voice of reason among her younger brothers, despite her occasional spirited nature.

When you finally landed beyond Winterfell’s gates, you and Jace dismounted your dragons. While Jace chose to introduce you both to the waiting crowd, you stayed behind to calm Mithrax and Vermax with soothing words in your mother tongue. As you joined your brother, the gathered Northerners looked on with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

“Do not worry, they won’t harm you,” you said with a reassuring smile. “I’m sure they would appreciate some sheep, if that is acceptable.”

A young man in thick furs with long, dark hair stepped forward. “Lord Stark,” he said with a respectful nod, “I am Prince Jacaerys, and this is my sister, Princess Y/n. We have come to discuss the oath your father swore when our mother was named heir. We hope it still stands.”

The young lord, Cregan Stark, nodded firmly. “Aye, my Prince, a Stark never forgets their oath.” You returned his nod with a slight smile. “Then that is good news, my lord. My mother’s throne has been usurped by her half-brother Aegon. Can we rely on your aid to reclaim it?”

Cregan’s gaze settled on you. “I will uphold my father’s oath, but first, the two of you should rest. Your dragons will be given sheep, and we’ll provide you with warmer clothing.” He signaled for attendants to assist you, then excused himself.

As he departed, Jace leaned in and whispered, “Would you marry him?” Your face flushed at the question, and you gave Jace a playful nudge. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he teased.

After a refreshing bath and being dressed in warmer garments, you were led to Winterfell’s main hall. Inside, Jace and Cregan were seated together, clearly enjoying each other’s company and sharing laughter. As you entered, Jace waved you over, pulling out your chair with a flourish and seating you beside him.

“Thank you, Lord Stark, for your hospitality. You and your people have given my brother and me a warm welcome,” you said, settling into your seat.

Cregan took a sip from his cup and replied with a smile, “Nonsense. It’s an honor to host a prince and princess of the realm. It has been quite some time since we’ve had the pleasure of dragons and their riders in the North.”

You nodded thoughtfully. “Our great-great-grandparents, if I recall correctly? With Vermithor and Silverwing?”

Cregan smiled and confirmed with a nod. The conversation flowed easily as you enjoyed your meal, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the camaraderie developing between the two young men.

Once the meal concluded, Jace cleared his throat and addressed Cregan. “So, Lord Cregan, you mentioned earlier that we have your support in the fight to regain our mother’s throne. Do you seek nothing in return?”

Cregan looked thoughtful. “While I will honor my father’s oath to the late king, I do have a request of my own.”

You met his gaze with interest. “Of course, my lord. Speak freely.”

He smiled at you before continuing, “We would request that some able-bodied men come to help defend the Wall.”

Jace considered this, then spoke. “I’m sure our mother would be glad to grant that. However, as we need all our men to reclaim her throne, it would have to wait until she has secured it.” Jace paused and glanced at you before turning back to Cregan. “How about a dragon and a union to seal the deal? My sister’s hand is a sought-after prize, and such an alliance would benefit both our houses.”

Your face reddened as you reached for your cup, trying to avoid meeting Cregan’s eyes. “And would the queen approve?” Cregan asked.

Jace patted your shoulder gently, his expression reassuring. “The only condition is that my dear sister agrees.”

You almost choked on your wine at his touch. After composing yourself, you nodded softly and looked at Cregan. “I believe it would be a beneficial match, my lord.”

Cregan’s eyes met yours, and you felt your face warm even further. You turned back to Jace and gave a nod of agreement. Jace beamed, clapping Cregan on the shoulder in a gesture of friendship, and raised his cup for a toast. “To the union of our great houses!” Jace declared.

[tbd1aiahe]

FOOD GONE COLD ⊹ ࣪ ˖ - B.E (PART 2)

Angst .ᐟ

Warnings: cursing?? angst gets resolved. not sure about anything else.

A/N - this is so ASS but whatever

She didn't know how to make it up to you. Really, she didn't. But she knew that she had to at least try. She looked around at the disheveled kitchen, still messy from when you spent so long making that pasta just how she likes it. 

Okay, maybe cleaning the kitchen is a start. It's at least something, right? She hastily started tidying up the area. Washing dishes, cleaning countertops, closing drawers, doing anything possible while she tries to think of ways to show you how much she loves you. Her eyes fell onto her car keys abandoned on the counter. 

Back in your room, (LIKE THE WEAK BITCH YOU ARE) you were holding back the urge to go back to the kitchen and run into her arms. You had every right to be mad, but you still felt shitty for being mad at her at all. You needed to be strong and not give in so easily. You owed it to yourself to be upset, even if all you wanted was to be in her arms. You tossed and turned in bed, clutching a pillow hoping it would fill the space Billie left. The faint buzz of your car engine starting made your heart drop. Was Billie leaving? You heard the car pull out of the driveway. You were proud of yourself for standing your ground—for not crumbling into her the second she looked sorry—but it didn't tame the fear of her leaving. In fact, it made that fear grow. 

🤍~ 

Around 30 minutes later, you heard the car return to the garage. The issue was you didn't know if you should feel relieved or worried. After the front door opened, you heard ruckus out in the kitchen area—water running, cabinet doors opening and closing again, and at one point you heard Billie yell ‘OW, SHIT! MY TOE!’  

Back in the kitchen, Billie had in fact stubbed her toe. That minor inconvenience broke the dam for her. The unshed tears she was holding back the entire drive to the store to pick up flowers for you came flowing all at once. Despite the tears, she finished placing the flowers into a nice vase and set it up on the kitchen counter. She fumbled to grab a piece of paper and neatly write down some apologies. 

She had so many thoughts running throughout her head, but the loudest one was the thought you might not forgive her this time around. She had never meant to make you feel small, and she really hoped you knew that. Or that she could remind you of that tonight. After wiping her tears, she gently placed the notes she wrote next to the beautiful flowers. 

She didn't even bother trying to get into your shared room. Without even grabbing a blanket, she flopped down onto the couch and hoped and prayed you would forgive her. Eventually, her heart calmed and her eyes fluttered shut. Her shallow breathing evened out and she drifted to sleep. 

You're not sure how much time passed. Hours, maybe? Doesn't matter. All that mattered is you hadn’t heard much activity outside your door in a while, and you couldn't sleep. Might as well go check things out, right? 

Slowly but carefully, you slipped out of your room and padded down the hall. Your eyes scanned the area, landing on the sparkling clean kitchen.  The scent of your favorite flowers filled your nostrils. Oh, is that where she went? To pick up flowers for you? You walked over to the vase, taking a big whiff of the pedals. That’s when you noticed the paper folded on the edge of the counter. Your hands trembled as you unfolded the note. 

‘I love you so much. I’m sorry.’

‘I never wanted to make you feel lonely.’

‘Please let me fix this.’

‘I’ll be here. If you want me. I love you.’

Your lips quivered as your eyes scanned the words on the page. She did this for you? She cleaned the kitchen—something you hate doing—got flowers for you, and genuinely felt bad and wanted to fix it? You didn't let the tears fall. No, you bit them back. Your eyes scanned the room, falling on the couch. There Billie was. Zero blanket or pillow, fast asleep. She didn't look peaceful, no—she looked troubled, even in sleep. Curled up into herself like a child. 

You stood there, frozen and torn between your stubbornness and the ache in your chest that only grew stronger upon seeing her like this. You weren’t blind—you could see how hard she was being on herself. She didn’t just say she was sorry. She showed it. She showed it in all the dishes she washed, the flowers she handpicked just for you, and the letter she clearly struggled to get just right. 

And now there she was, banished to the couch, not even a pillow to comfort her. It was as if she didn’t think she even deserved the luxury of comfort right now. With a heavy sigh, you tiptoed to the hall closet and pulled out a spare blanket. You draped it over her with the utmost of care, trying not to wake her. But as you tucked it snugly around her shoulders, she stirred the faintest bit. A soft sound escaped her mouth. 

“Mm?” She looked up at you, eyes heavy with sleep. 

“It’s just me,” you whispered. “Go back to sleep.” She shifted slightly, accepting the blanket immediately. She stared at you through her lashes—wet from tears—and sniffled a little. 

“Did you read my note?” She murmured, voice tired and small. You nodded and gently stroked her hair. 

“Yeah, I did.” 

She looked at you with uncertainty in her eyes, silently asking for you to keep speaking your mind. 

“I don’t want to go to sleep mad,” you finally admitted. “I can tell that you’re really sorry.”

Billie shifted slightly, sitting up a little. “I fucked up.” She said flatly. “I let myself get too engrossed in my music. I didn’t spend time with you the way you needed—the way either of us needed.” 

Your fingers rested in her lap, nervously fiddling with an unraveled string of the blanket. “I’m not mad that you love your job. I love your music and I love that you love what you do. I just missed you. Missed your touch. Your laugh. I missed feeling like I mattered.” You let out a half laugh, half sigh of relief. 

“You do,” she cut in, voice firm yet desperate. “You do matter. God, you matter so much. I just forgot to show you that, like a fucking idiot.” 

You took a moment to let her words sink in. You had so much shit you wanted to say. Out of a million thoughts swirling around in your head, only one made it to the surface. 

“Come to bed,” you blurted out suddenly. 

Billie looked at you, searching for any hints of hesitation or regret in your voice. “Are you sure?” 

“I’m not saying everything’s okay,” you admit honestly. “But I don’t want you suffering out here alone. Come to bed. We’ll figure it out in the morning. Together.” 

All she could muster was a small nod. You offered her your hand, and she gladly took it. You helped her up, guiding her to the bed, her hand in yours. No relationship is perfect. Couples fight, that's the bottom line. But you and Billie always get through the rough patches. because neither of you could live without the other. 

For the rest of the night, you laid tangled in each other, snug as a bug in a rug. You basked in the warmth of your bodies cuddled together, the argument slowly washing away altogether.

[stxrsniolo]

ㅤㅤִㅤ ݁ ꉂ punishing bratty sub!matt ᴖ ֽ ㅤᷭ

ㅤ﹙ 𝟑𝟑𝟑 ﹚ㅤּㅤㅤ˻ㅤaegan is typingㅤ˺⠀⠀tread carefully, my dears, for the words that follow are not for the faint of heart: what lies ahead is smut, a dance of desire that might just set your pulse racing. proceed if you dare.

warnings: smut. explicit nsfw. dom/sub dynamics. sexual frustration. begging. orgasm denial. teasing. power play.

give your own punishment to bratty sub!matt with this c.ai bot here!

═══════════════════════════ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . 　 ︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

you were nestled in matt's room, the atmosphere charged with a tension only solitude could bring, since nick and chris had left for a party with madison, leaving you and matt to your own devices for the night.

the day had been a test of patience with matt's bratty behavior, his sarcasm and insolence leading you to the silent treatment, your attention now on the book in your lap, wrapped in one of his t-shirts that declared i love matt sturniolo. — yeah, he gave that one to you on purpose. but matt was relentless in his need for your attention, rubbing desesperately against your thigh, his whimpers like music in the quiet room. "please, y/n, i need your touch so fucking bad," he whined, his voice desperate, his body pressing closer, seeking any form of contact.

you tried to ignore him, focusing on your book, but his desperation was palpable, his cock leaking, making the fabric of his pants stick to your skin, his movements needy, his breath hot against your neck. "i'm sorry, i'm so fucking sorry for being such a prick, please forgive me," he pleaded, his voice breaking with sincerity, his eyes wide, begging for forgiveness. finally, your resolve wavered.

you turned to him, your gaze stern but your body betraying your arousal. "you think you can just misbehave and then get what you want?" you asked, your voice low, laced with a promise. "come on, i'm your fucktoy, please, use me, abuse me, punish me." he moaned, his hands moving to touch himself, but you grabbed his wrists, pinning them down with authority.

"you want my attention? then you're going to earn it," you declared, your tone commanding while your gaze slid down, watching his cock throb, pre-cum leaking from the tip, his pants now visibly wet.

with slow deliberation, you moved your hand to his crotch, palming him through the fabric, making him buck and gasp. "fuck, y/n, let me feel your hand on my cock, please," he begged, his voice thick with lust, his pretty blue eyes filling with tears of frustration. you pulled his pants down, his cock springing free, swollen and dripping with need, twitching when you took him in your hand, his skin hot and slick, and began stroking him slowly, torturously. his moans were loud, desperate, his hips thrusting into your hand. "oh fuck, don't stop, i fucking need this," he pleaded, his body trembling. but you wanted to hear more, to see him more undone. you leaned down, your breath hot on his cock before taking him into your mouth; his taste was intoxicating, his moans a symphony to your ears.

you swirled your tongue around his head, sucking him deep, his hands in your hair, pulling but not guiding, completely at your mercy. "i need your tight fucking pussy on my cock, it's all i can think about, please," he gasped out, his voice a mix of agony and ecstasy, his pleas turning into a litany of need. you paused, letting him feel the absence of your mouth, watching him squirm, his cock twitching. "you think you deserve to come after acting like such a little shit?" you taunted, your voice a mix of dominance and desire. "i'm nothing without you, i fucking need you, your pussy, your control. i'd be lost without you," he cried out, his hands clutching at your hips, trying to urge you on, but you kept still, denying him. "i'll do anything, anything to feel you again, please, keep friggin' touching me, i'll do whatever you want," he promised, his voice desperate, cock pulsing in your hand and begging for release. you decided to prolong his torment, increasing your pace with your hand, watching him squirm, his pleas turning into incoherent babbling. "i'm your good boy, i'm such a good boy for you," he whimpered, salty tears of pleasure sliding down his cheeks. you slowed down again, teasing him, enjoying the power you had over him. "you can't live without my touch, can you?" you taunted, knowing the effect your words had on him.

"i can't fucking live without feeling you, please, i'm begging you, don't leave me like this, use me, make me your fucktoy, i'm here for you to use and abuse," he begged, his voice a desperate whine, his body shaking with need. finally, feeling both his need and your own desire peak, you decided to end his torment. you straddled him, slowly lowering yourself onto his aching cock, feeling him stretch you, fill you.

his eyes rolled back, a sob escaping as you started to move, riding him with deliberate slowness. "you're mine to use," you whispered, and with those words, you controlled his pleasure, his cries filling the room as he felt the climax approaching. "you're such a good boy, matt, come for me," you whispered, and with those words, he shattered beneath you, his orgasm hitting him like a wave, his body convulsing with the intensity of his release, cumming hard inside you. as he came down from his high, you lay beside him, his breath ragged, his eyes full of gratitude and love. "i love you so much, y/n."

ㅤ﹙ 𝟑𝟑𝟑 ﹚ㅤּㅤㅤ˻ㅤaegan is typingㅤ˺ᅟ⠀ i appreciate the love shown through reposts, but let me be clear: my tales are not to be copied or adapted without a whisper to me first. my words are my treasure, and i guard them jealously.

my murder of crows: @courta13 @chrislilcumslvt @marrykisskilled @chrislova @sturnshood @inspiredangel @strnilolover @emely9274 @sturns-mermaid @blushsturns @ariieeesworld @pixie-sticks-are-good @luvjaeeee @sturnslutz @mattswifeyy

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[xhollowfaerie]

Disease

(So I accidentally managed to bug my previous post that was the prequel to this. It got lost in the Fade. This is the follow-up of Rook also trying to find some relief after she gets very riled up watching Lucanis cook, inspired by this, of course! Here is the fanfic with all these snippets on my ao3! Tags: Lucanis being extremely hot, nsfw, masturbation (not too graphic), demi4demi Rookanis, inexperienced Rookanis

-

Rook felt her chest tighten as she watched Lucanis, his skillful hands chopping away; occasionally wiping on a soft towel, dripping with the juices of a lemon; the tiny amount of flour leaving a kiss on his alluring, sharp cheekbone… 

He looked so good in that apron, dashing, his gorgeous hair neatly tied into a bun; she could see the tiniest streaks of gray, digging her nails into her thigh with a muted hum. 

Her breath caught in her throat as his nimble fingers grabbed a chunk of meat, pushing it down onto the cutting board, holding it in place… she noticed the faint trace of veins on his hands; the wetness of her tongue darting over her lips left a cold sensation, making it all the worse.

Lucanis expertly slid the knife across the meat, slicing it into thin sections. Kore pressed her legs together, trying to subtly fan herself with a stray napkin. He washed his hands off before jotting down a note.

“Ah, perfect. Now, you said you wanted to help? I was going to ask if you could- Rook? Are you alright?” When he glanced at her, her entire face was blooming; the rosy shades of her hair blended so beautifully with the redness in her cheeks; she seemed bewildered, taken aback when the Crow addressed her. The elf let out a small gasp and covered her mouth bashfully. He could swear he saw a drop of sweat roll down her clavicle. Did she have a fever? He was definitely going to offer her his coat next time they went to the Anderfels.

“Kore?” His brows furrowed and he placed the pen down, taking a step towards her; she backed away in sync and gulped, shuddering wordlessly. His soul ached.

“... Lo siento. Have I done something wrong?” Rook’s heart thrashed in her chest at the innocent look of a kicked puppy plastered all over his breathtaking features. She knew she was being unreasonable, but all she could think about was seeing that face between her legs.

“No” she managed to choke out, finally peeling her hungry gaze off of him. “No, Creators-” it was too late, she already said it reflexively, even if she meant to stop using that word- “no, never, you’ve never wronged me. Not for a second.” He was so incredibly confused. Spite circled from behind him with an evil grin. ‘Rook lusts. Shaking. She wants us.’

The Crow’s eyes widened, a faint blush dusting his face; he cleared his throat and tried to wave Spite away. “Whatever it is, I can help. Do you want me to stab someone? Tell me what you need, Rook.” Kore looked as if he had just slapped her (little did he know), and she somehow got even redder. She felt the room suffocate her. Instinctively, her hands scrambled to undo a button on her shirt. Too hot.

“I- I-” 

She looked at him again, and her legs wanted so badly to move towards him; her hands clutched her clothes, and he felt his own resolve begin to tremble.

There was… no way Spite wasn’t just messing with him.

Right?

He inhaled slowly, studying her face. His jaw clenched ever so slightly, his eyes narrowed.

‘Yes, yes. Take her, Lucanis. She craves us.’

His fingers twitched. He tried to spur himself on, find the courage to approach her. Maybe… Just, maybe - “I’ll- be right back!” she squeaked before bolting out of the dining room. As soon as she was out, she leaned against the door, sliding halfway down. She lowered her damp forehead and breathed heavily, closing her eyes. She stood there for a second, clutching her knees.

“This is so bad” she whispered, hands covering her face in shame.

“Trouble in paradise?” Neve teased with a knowing smirk, scaring the ever living crap out of her. Rook jumped in place, clutching onto the door for balance.

“N-Neve?!” “It’s okay. I won’t tell.” “N-No, w-what? W-We weren’t, I-”

“Oh, spare me, Trouble. Whatever you’re worried about, I’m sure Lucanis can handle.”

The detective left Kore with a wink, which did not help lessen her condition any.

This must be what they call a walk of shame, Rook thought as she headed to the communal lavatory in order to splash some cold water at her face.

Her trembling hands held onto the shell-shaped marble sink, glaring at her own reflection. “This is so… so inappropriate! I… No, he is a dear friend, my closest-”

Her own voice cut itself off. She shook her head and squealed, tapping her face repeatedly. “No, no, stop it, this is- I can’t think like this, not with Lucanis ! Not with- S…Spite!”

Maybe she just needed a second to cool off.

. . . 

“L-Lucanis!” she mewled into her palm, squeezing her eyes shut in embarrassment. She felt so humiliated, despite the intimacy of her own bedroom. This was so wrong. How could she ever face him again? 

Bitter and sweet, like a kiss goodbye .

Gods, she loved his voice, his accent; she was so enamoured with all of him; he had her falling in love with Treviso, getting so close to the Crows they treated her like one of their own; she could never touch a drop of coffee again without picturing his lips on hers. His rare, precious smile. 

She wanted to protect him so dearly. Rook wanted to hold his hands, to cradle him, to lay his head on her chest; to run her fingers through his dark hair, to feel his beard on every inch of her skin. It was genuinely distracting how obsessed she was with his hands, with his fingers, with the little playful twink in his eyes. The way he freaked out over the Gods and their ancient magic, his dynamic with Taash; he always made Rook laugh so easily. Lucanis was so, so careful with her, as well as the rest of the team. She had never expected him to be so expressive, so charming.

His expensive, elegant clothes, always so neat, so proper. His collection of daggers, his knives. His tone when he got cocky. How he looked when he cooked, when he was focused. When he was angry. The few moments of softness between them. The intensity in his eyes, the bags beneath… His humanity. Every single thing about him.

When they met, she wanted to say she was scared, but despite his reputation, the first time she laid eyes on him, all she could feel was a thrill . 

A thrill for danger.

You like to walk a little close to the edge .

He didn’t scare her. Neither did Spite. She was intrigued. Or rather, she was enthralled.

She knew she was a lost cause when they went on a little shopping trip through the market in Treviso. Every time he spoke of another companion, so concerned with buying each of them a gift, her heart swelled. Kore remembered the way the spices in the market overpowered her, how handsome he looked in the twinkling lights. She had bought him the wyvern dagger on a whim, a compulsion, moved by whatever was stirring inside her; so desperate to show him he was needed. That he was a good man. That he was loved, and he deserved the world. Honey and lavender cream. Sweet, intriguing.

She wanted to show him more. She wanted to kiss him for hours on end, to worship him; to make him forget, the Ossuary, Zara, Illario, the Crows, the Vints, the Antaam, the Gods, she wanted his mind to be empty of everything, everything except for her. She wanted him to feel safe. She wanted to help him feel whole.

She wanted to see his face engulfed with pleasure.

S-so, so close-!

Something must be wrong with her; not only had she never experienced this before… it was so unbearably strong , so intoxicating. Her desire for him, her affection, they weaved around her so tightly, he never left her mind.

Releasing her pent up feelings like this wasn’t even the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. It only helped for a brief moment… terror swirled inside of her as she wondered how much more of this it would take before he found her out.

Would he be upset? Angry? Disgusted? Would he despise her? Would his eyes turn purple…? Would he grab her by the throat, pull her hair- or, maybe, he’d just kiss her neck, lovingly pin her thigh down, keep his gloves on as he slides his fingers in- 

Tell me what you need, Rook.

“Have you guys seen Rook?” Taash’s voice outside her room made her freeze in horror, painfully biting into the side of her thumb to calm her panting.

“Lucanis is trying to find her. Said she just ran away outta nowhere.”

Rook let out a quiet groan of regret.

“I’m so terrible” she whispered, sinking into her own shame.

‘Yes, you are. Terrible. What should they do to you?’

Dread Wolf’s asshole - that voice, again! Luring her, taunting her. The voice of a siren.

At that point, Kore had already figured it out, even though she denied it so vehemently.

“Lust” she whispered shyly. “Please, I… I love him. Don’t make me ruin everything.”

‘So innocent. You know you won’t be able to focus, not unless you finish.’

Kore didn’t even know how to deny it. She was right.

I want. To talk. To Rook!

She really was sick, even fantasizing about Spite… But Kore had never felt so needed , before; she adored his excitement, his fervor, his passion, his attention, his determination. His desperation , for her, and her alone…

Her fingers trembled as they forced the pillow over her face, arching her back helplessly.

“Mmf-fuck, S-Spite, L-Lucanis…! IAh- A-Ar lath ma…!”

. . . Spite kicked his feet, sitting on the counter next to Lucanis. He was lost in deep focus, attempting to nudge Lucanis’s coffee cup off. He let out a small noise of frustration. It wasn’t working! “What are you doing now?” Lucanis spoke to nobody in particular, his voice echoing in the dining room as he continued to brood over the boiling pot. Before Spite could open his mouth to answer, a shiver ran down the length of his spine. The demon thought he heard Rook’s voice calling out to him… moaning for him. Elated, he jumped off the counter, taking Lucanis’s coffee with him to the stone floor. “Ay, pendejo! I just made that…” Lucanis grumbled, grabbing a rag to wipe the spill.

‘She called for me!’ Spite grinned, kneeling down next to Lucanis. ‘Spite felt.’ “I’m sure she did” he muttered.

‘I. Miss. Rook! Go find! So boring. Without Rook. Lucanis, no fun- Wait!’

Spite shot up again, aggressively sniffing around the two of them.

“Mierda, you really are just a dog” the Crow sighed deeply, straining the rag into the sink with a look of disappointment. He tried to inhale the delicious scent, as if it would be enough to keep him awake.

‘Smells. Like. Lucanis. Coffee. Eugh. But. No, no! Something else! Sweat. Want . Like Rook. But different . More… intense. Vanilla. Amber. Spices.’

Lucanis wanted to ignore him, but his eyes blinked harder than usual. Itchy.

He turned around sharply in realization, scanning their environment. There was no way. Spite was the only demon there. He near enough stopped his own heartbeat, just to better hear even the tiniest noise around them.

Nothing, other than Spite’s grating voice.

‘Pink! Hungry’ he pointed, but before Lucanis could notice anything, any trace of it was gone.

“Humor isn’t your strong suit” Lucanis groaned in exhaustion, reaching for the nearly-empty jar of coffee beans. Maybe Spite had been pulling a dumb prank, but he was still on edge. Even the smallest chance of Kore being in danger made every hair on his body stand.

‘But-’

The imposing doors creaked open, and a streak of pink locks peered through, voice meek.

“Sorry…! I’m back. Still need me?”

Lucanis felt every muscle in his body relax. He replied without thinking.

“Always.”

Lust smirked, her claws digging deeper into Spite as she covered his mouth from behind, purring into his ear.

‘Shhh. Hush, now. We both want the same thing.’

[gyorouis]

𐙚 PLEASURE DELAYER.

— "your mystery, like an orange peel's stings left its mark despite my delicate efforts."

genre: fluff, angst

pairing: varsity/med student!yeonjun x med student!y/n (fem reader)

warning: swearing, (bad writing lol)

word count: 3.4k

now playing: between friends — pleasure delayer ୨ৎ

the first time you laid your eyes on yeonjun, was when your university had a sport’s week. you were patiently waiting for your friend beomgyu who was busy taking photos for the journalism department's upcoming feature. you stood there, outside the court, hands on your pocket and chewing on your gum, time seemed to drag on. growing increasingly bored waiting for beomgyu, you eventually wandered into the gymnasium.

loud screams from the spectators on the benches filled the air, some holding red balloons and others clutching yellow ones. you scanned the crowd, searching for a tall guy with copper hair and a camera hanging around his neck. finally spotting him, you saw beomgyu sitting on one of the benches, completely absorbed in the game, seemingly forgetting that his best friend was waiting outside the gymnasium.

“y/n!” he screams when he spots you, glaring at him as he waves his hands, signaling you to sit beside him. you shake your head, sports like this don’t excite you. he stomps his feet and looks at you pleadingly. defeated, you slowly walk towards him. you release a deep sigh when you sit beside him. “is that a sigh i'm hearing?” he exclaims. you roll your eyes and try to focus on the court where the game is happening. you see the players dribbling, shooting, and the crowd cheering enthusiastically with each point scored. you can't quite grasp what makes this game so thrilling for people like beomgyu, who is groaning each time your department scores. you’ve never enjoyed watching basketball; the fast-paced action and strategic plays seem lost on you. you glance around at the excited faces of the fans, trying to understand their enthusiasm.

you were fidgeting in your seat, unease creeping in as your eyes swept across the bustling stadium. the air was thick with the clamor of enthusiastic fans, their cheers echoing off the walls. red and yellow balloons bobbed above the crowd, adding splashes of color to the sea of faces. despite feeling out of place in this lively atmosphere, you resolved to give it one last shot and focus on the game unfolding before you.

as you glance towards the court, your eyes fixate on a dark-haired guy wearing your department’s basketball jersey. he stands out amidst the flurry of action, his movements flowing with a captivating confidence. although you’re not well-versed in basketball, his skills and passion for the game are unmistakable and draw you in.

you notice how effortlessly he dribbles the ball, swiftly maneuvering past defenders with grace. each shot he takes seems calculated yet instinctive, earning cheers from the crowd each time the ball finds its mark. his movements possess a mesmerizing rhythm, like a dancer on a stage, commanding attention with every pivot and feint. despite the noise around you, you find yourself leaning forward, completely engrossed in observing his every move.

unbeknownst to you, beomgyu has been observing you, trying to gauge exactly where your eyes are fixed. a grin appears on his lips when he discovers your gaze directed towards the court.

“that’s yeonjun, choi yeonjun,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows at you. you side-eyed him. “i wasn’t asking his name,” you explained.

“yeah, whatever. oh, anyway, he’s just from the other block so you will probably see him around, especially in our department's building,” he added casually, watching for your reaction.

“but i never saw him around…” you replied, your curiosity piqued despite yourself.

bingo! beomgyu thought, noting your subtle interest in yeonjun.

"well, now you did," he said before standing from his seat. "where are you going?" you said, trying to focus on the game while looking at beomgyu. 

"you said that the game bores you, right? let’s go! besides, i’ve already got enough shots for the paper," he said, noticing your furrowed eyebrows and dropped shoulders. but before he could say more, you stood up. 

"you’re right, let’s go," you said, starting to walk away, leaving beomgyu confused. "i thought she would want to stay until the game ends," he whispered to himself, shaking his head at your unexpected decision, before following you.

the second you saw yeonjun again was in your department building’s lobby. it was a few days after that first game encounter. he was walking with his friend, a tall, blonde figure. yeonjun sported the casual attire of a medicine student heading to class, with his basketball warm-up draped loosely around his neck. you watch intently as he strides towards the elevator, mere feet away from where you stand. your gaze lingers on him, absorbing every detail of his demeanor and appearance, as if etching his features into your memory. the air seems to hum with anticipation as your eyes meet his unexpectedly, sending a jolt through you.

it was only a fleeting moment, but his eyes locked onto yours for what felt like an eternity, a good 13 seconds if you could recall. your heart raced as if it might burst from your chest. in that brief exchange, you felt exposed, as if he could see right through you. now he knows you exist.

the night after, you found yourself giggling uncontrollably, playfully nudging beomgyu as you recounted how yeonjun had looked at you in the lobby.

“what the fuck? you actually counted how long he stared at you?” beomgyu exclaimed, feigning disbelief and disgust.

“do we have overlapping schedules with their block?” you asked, brushing off beomgyu's reaction.

“damn, you're really into him,” he chuckled under his breath. your gaze turned pleading, a look beomgyu knew all too well—an expression that signaled you were about to ask a favor, one that could potentially lead to embarrassment for either of you.

unable to resist your persistence, beomgyu raised his hands in defeat. “fine, fine. i’m close with soobin. i'll ask him about yeonjun,” he conceded reluctantly.

in the days after the basketball game and that brief 13-second eye contact, yeonjun becomes a familiar sight around campus. you spot him often: in the library, flipping through books with focused intensity; at the campus café, laughing with friends over cups of coffee; and even during evening strolls, where you both occasionally pass each other under the soft glow of street lamps. it's as if he's woven himself into the fabric of your daily routine, appearing in unexpected moments that leave you wondering if it's mere chance or something more.

you catch glimpses of him between classes, sometimes pausing near the same notice board or lingering near the art building where he seems to appreciate the sculptures on display. each encounter brings a mix of curiosity and fascination as you observe his interactions with others and the way he effortlessly commands attention without trying.

weeks pass, and you find yourself pondering about yeonjun more often—and whether he notices your coincidental meetings as much as you do. it's a strange sensation, this heightened awareness of someone who was once just another face in the crowd, now seemingly everywhere you look on campus.

when you thought you were content with those small smiles and nods toward each other, you were wrong. one time, you were waiting for beomgyu outside their journalism office. as you stood there, you heard a familiar laugh echoing down the hallway. your heart raced, and you wished the floor would swallow you up as you realized the laugh was drawing nearer. it came to an abrupt halt when the person causing the laughter noticed you standing there.

you could still hear small chuckles when someone patted your shoulder. you slowly turned your head, praying, "please don't be yeonjun, please don't be yeonjun." as you looked up, your heart pounded. standing before you was a tall guy with tousled blonde hair and black glasses, his smile warm and genuine. "hi, you’re beomgyu’s friend, right?" he asked, his voice smooth and friendly. you were left dumbfounded, your mind racing to process the situation. if you weren't mistaken, this was yeonjun’s friend, the one you had heard so much about from beomgyu.

just as you were about to answer him, yeonjun appeared at his side. oh, that eye smile; you swore you could die just from the sight of his genuine smile. he waved at you, and you shyly returned the favor, feeling your cheeks flush.

"oh, is that the camera that beomgyu uses?" yeonjun exclaimed, his eyes widening with excitement as he hopped to stand beside you. your heart skipped a beat at his sudden closeness, his presence both electrifying and overwhelming.

you weren't sure how you managed to answer all his questions about the camera and how it worked. his curiosity was endearing, his eyes sparkling with interest as you explained. each time he leaned in closer to inspect the camera, your heart raced. his fascination with cameras was evident, and you found yourself captivated by his enthusiasm. as he listened intently, nodding and asking follow-up questions, you couldn't help but be drawn to his genuine passion and the way his smile made everything else fade into the background.

"can we use it, or like take a picture now? no, uhh, can i take a picture of you using that?" he asked, his excitement palpable. you didn't utter a word, just nodded in response.

standing there awkwardly, you waited as yeonjun prepared to click the shutter. he stole a glance at you, his voice soft and inviting, "smile for me." the sound of his voice felt like a gentle caress, warming your heart, and you couldn't help but smile genuinely. sensing your reaction, he looked at you again, a faint smile tugging at his lips before he skillfully pressed the shutter.

"see? it came out nice!" he exclaimed, showing you the picture. his talent for photography was evident as he had perfectly captured your sweet smile. "it's pretty, you're pretty," he added, his words delivered with a sincerity that made your heart flutter, as though he hadn't just sent your thoughts spinning in delightful chaos.

just then, yeonjun's presence in your life became more significant. you found yourself either spending lunch with him or walking home together, as your paths aligned perfectly. it was a simple joy, yet it filled you with contentment. you desired nothing more than these moments with yeonjun, even if it was just as friends.

tonight, you are walking with yeonjun under the serene night sky. the moonlight casts a gentle glow on both of you. originally, soobin and beomgyu were supposed to join you, but beomgyu, sensing the need for some space, invited soobin to accompany him to the convenience store.

“aren’t you hungry?” yeonjun asks, breaking the awkward silence between you. 

“i’m not, how about you?” you reply. yeonjun seems taken aback by your response; he had silently hoped you would say you were hungry so he could spend more time with you.

“i’m not hungry,” he says with a smile.

“are you sure?” you ask, stopping in your tracks. he nods and, without thinking, takes your hand as you both cross the street. the sensation of butterflies in your stomach feels like an understatement; it’s as if they’re having a jubilant party, all energized by yeonjun’s electric touch.

you let your body fall onto the mattress, a smile still lingering on your lips. you place your hand, the one yeonjun held, near your heart. a thought emerges: is he thinking about it too? is he smiling about it too? does yeonjun feel the same way you do? the smile slowly fades as you consider the possibility of your feelings not being reciprocated.

you are content with having yeonjun by your side, but your heart longs for more than just friendship. a part of you wonders if it might be worth taking a chance. despite the uncertainty, there lies a possibility that he, perhaps, feels the same way too.

you woke up. no, you didn’t even get the chance to sleep peacefully; your mind was clouded with thoughts of yeonjun. lazily, you got up and prepared for campus, dreading the webinar you had to attend and praying you wouldn’t see him today because you looked exactly like a panda.

you sat beside beomgyu, half-listening to the speaker. it had been easy to avoid yeonjun so far; you hadn’t seen him since arriving at the auditorium. your eyes wandered around the room, searching the crowd. just as you were about to give up, your gaze landed on the balcony of the second floor. there he stood, arms crossed and resting on the railing, his eyes fixed on you as if he had been watching for a while, waiting for you to notice him.

you smiled and were about to wave when he winked at you. caught off guard, you quickly looked behind you, checking if the wink was meant for someone else. when you looked back, yeonjun was chuckling, clearly amused by your flustered reaction. feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, you turned back toward the stage, trying to focus on the speaker. but your mind kept drifting back to that moment, a flustered smile tugging at your lips. the memory of his wink lingered, making it impossible to concentrate, as your thoughts danced around the possibility of what it might mean.

one night, you lay awake in bed, replaying a memory in your mind: a rainy afternoon where you and yeonjun had taken shelter under a gazebo. you shivered from the cold, and without hesitation, he had draped his jacket over your shoulders, his hands lingering on your arms as he looked at you with a tenderness that made your heart ache. “you always get cold so easily,” he had said, his voice soft and caring. the warmth of his jacket and his gentle touch had made you feel like you were the only person in the world that mattered to him.

another time, during a group study session, he had absentmindedly brushed a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek. “you look tired,” he had murmured, concern etched on his face. “make sure you get some rest, okay?” his touch had sent shivers down your spine, and the way he looked at you made you wonder if there was something more behind his actions.

and then there were the nights you spent talking until the early hours of the morning, sharing your dreams, fears, and secrets. his presence was a constant comfort, and the way he listened to you, really listened, made you feel seen and understood in a way no one else had ever made you feel. 

these memories replayed in your mind as you stood outside the campus café, waiting for yeonjun. you had asked him to meet you, your heart pounding with anticipation and dread. as he approached, his usual smile faltered when he saw the seriousness on your face.

“yeonjun, we need to talk,” you said, your voice trembling with the weight of what you were about to say.

he nodded, his expression concerned. “what’s wrong, y/n?”

you took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “i need to understand what’s going on between us. all those moments we’ve shared, the way you look at me, the way you touch me… what does it mean to you?”

he blinked, taken aback by your sudden intensity. “what do you mean? we’re friends, y/n. you know that.”

your frustration bubbled over, and you couldn’t hold back any longer. “friends don’t look at each other the way you look at me, yeonjun. friends don’t act like they’re the only ones who matter in the world. you’ve given me so much hope, and it’s tearing me apart not knowing where we stand.”

his eyes widened, and he took a step back, clearly caught off guard by your outburst. “i… i didn’t realize you felt this way. i never meant to hurt you.”

“then what did you mean, yeonjun?” you demanded, your voice rising. “why did you give me your jacket when i was cold? why did you stay up with me all those nights, talking about everything and nothing? why did you make me feel like i was special, like i meant something more to you?”

he looked away, guilt and confusion clouding his features. “i care about you, y/n. i care about you a lot. but there are things in my life that make it complicated. things i can’t control.”

“what things?” you pressed, desperation seeping into your voice. “what could possibly be so complicated that you can’t be honest with me?”

he ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in his every movement. “it’s not that simple. there are expectations, responsibilities… things you don’t know about.”

tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him, the person who had become so important to you. “then help me understand, yeonjun. because right now, it feels like you’re playing with my feelings, and it’s killing me.”

he sighed, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of the world was pressing down on him. “i’m sorry, y/n. i never wanted to hurt you. but i don’t think i can give you the answers you’re looking for.”

the finality in his words hit you like a punch to the gut. you had hoped for clarity, for a resolution that would either bring you closer together or allow you to move on. instead, you were left with more questions and a heart full of pain.

“i can’t keep doing this, yeonjun,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “i can’t keep hoping for something that might never happen.”

he reached out as if to touch your hand, but you stepped back, the distance between you feeling like an insurmountable chasm. “i’m sorry,” he repeated, his voice barely audible.

with tears streaming down your face, you turned and walked away, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the empty night. the memories of your time with yeonjun played in your mind like a bittersweet melody, each note a reminder of what could have been.

months had passed since that painful confrontation with yeonjun. the ache in your heart hadn't completely faded, but keeping your distance had become a coping mechanism, a way to slowly detach yourself from what could never be.

you focused on your studies and threw yourself into activities with friends, trying to fill the void left by yeonjun's absence. it wasn't easy. thoughts of him lingered in the quiet moments, in the spaces between laughter and conversation.

one afternoon, you found yourself walking through the campus courtyard, lost in your thoughts. the air was crisp with the promise of autumn, leaves crunching underfoot as students hurried to their next classes. you glanced up, and there he was—yeonjun, standing near the library entrance, his gaze fixed on something in the distance.

your breath caught in your throat. it had been so long since you had seen him up close, since you had allowed yourself to acknowledge the pain he had caused. part of you wanted to turn and walk away, to retreat into the safety of avoidance. but another part, a stubborn part, urged you to confront the lingering emotions once and for all.

as if sensing your presence, yeonjun turned. his eyes met yours, and in that moment, everything unsaid passed between you. there were no words, just the weight of regret and longing etched into your gazes.

you saw it in his eyes—the same regret mirrored in your own. the pain of what could have been, of the misunderstandings and unspoken truths that had driven you apart. for a fleeting second, you both stood there, frozen in time, suspended between what was and what could have been.

but reality intervened. a passing student bumped into you, breaking the spell. yeonjun looked away first, his shoulders slumping imperceptibly. you took a step back, the distance between you suddenly feeling insurmountable once again.

with a heavy heart, you turned and continued on your way, the memory of his eyes haunting you. it was a silent goodbye, a final acknowledgment of the love that had never quite found its voice.

gyo's note: hi! this is my first time posting my work here, a feedback will help me work on my writing more, i've been enjoying the song pleasure delayer these days and i just can't help but write a story about it (and yj happens to suit the way i wanted the male character to be written!) i hope you enjoy reading this, xoxo.

✮ 2024 gyozies, all rights reserved.

[ador3rin]

₊˚ෆ wired earphones | return to main | go to next

cw : brief mentions of infidelity and alcoholism

the apartment door closes with a soft click behind you, and you double check your belongings to ensure all the necessities are present. once satisfied, you make your way down to the lobby through a short elevator ride and shoot a friendly smile to the receptionist before stepping outside. 

the cool air nips at your cheeks, and your eyes briefly scan the area before landing on the tall raven haired figure standing off to the side, with his back against the wall. he’s got one hand stuffed into his jacket pocket, and the other clutching a bouquet of tulips wrapped in brown paper.

your eyes meet, and the corners of his lips tug up into a small smile as he straightens his posture, watching you approach him with a grin on your face. there was no use denying just how effortlessly handsome he was, recalling the first encounter that had left you starstruck.

it was pleasantly surprising to find out that he was rather sweet underneath the cold, volleyball obsessed reputation he’d developed, and it was even more pleasant to be at the centre of his attention. albeit his clumsy awkwardness was still extremely charming.

you found yourself enjoying the date much more than you had originally anticipated, troublesome worries seemed to dissipate as you engaged in conversation with the boy. 

though you’d never admit it, your mind couldn’t help but wander towards thoughts of a certain fox eyed male. would it feel just as warm to be on the receiving ends of his affection? to know that without a doubt your feelings were reciprocated? 

but then again, when have you ever gotten what you wanted?

suna was ticked off. the distance he thought he’d bridged between you and him had made an unwelcome resurgence, ever since that day he’d hung out with akemi. and now his timeline is flooded with photos of you and kageyama tobio?

an ugly, unfamiliar emotion had reared it’s head, disturbing his typically nonchalant demeanour. he shuts off his phone with a tsk, rolling his eyes at the thought of the you making goo goo eyes at the karasuno setter.

whatever, he thought. it’s not like he’s into you or anything. you were just fun to hang around, that’s all. a good way to pass the time. solidifying his resolve, he buries all the complicated emotions deep inside the recesses of his mind as he drifts off to sleep.

“ma?” 

“come here, my darling.” his mother’s voice is gentle as she extends her hand to the young timid boy cowering around the corner. tentatively, he approaches before running and launching himself into her embrace, burying his face into her warmth. 

“did he make you cry again?” suna’s voice is muffled, and he struggles to fight back the tears pooling in his eyes. this seemed to be the norm around his household lately, as discreet as his parents attempts were, kids are always smarter than they seem.

 “my sweet rintarō, why are you crying?” 

he recalls his mother’s kind smile, though unable to mask her pain she thumbed at the tears slipping down her son’s chubby cheeks. the young boy hastily rubbed at his eyes, too young to put on the strong bravado he so desperately wanted to for her sake, tremblings lips attempting to form a small awkward smile.

suna’s eyes flutter open, eyelashes wet as the remnants of his dream slipped away and he's pulled back to his cold reality. he hadn't dreamt of his mother in weeks now, and he considered calling her for a brief second before deciding against it.

it wasn't too long after that day that he'd discovered his father's affair. the evening was as mundane as any other, except his after school volleyball club had ended earlier than usual for no particular reason.

his father who had shamelessly brought his mistress into their family home at a time he was certain no one would be there, was shocked to see his son's teary eyed glare.

"i hate you." the young boy's voice was dripping with venom, finally connecting the dots as to why his parents had been so cold toward one another, and why his now frail mother had been visiting her home town more frequently.

# mew's notes :

suna now has a really bad relationship with his father

hina is the only person akemi trusts implicitly, they've been together forever

suna helped yn sneak out and they hung out for a little while

# tags :

@phoenix-eclipses @semiis @iluv-ace @nbcvs @snail-squasher

@csbnova @bubooo @ris-krispie @drxmrr @whykirbo

@mfcherry @g-l-1-t-c-h-3-r @itsmiyamore @brighteyedblinkers

@lixie-phoria @noideawhothatis @theyluvvfreya @just-coreee

@thvvluvr @lucentwings @aeshiue @gsyche @ridzu @woonsol17

if your username is purple, it means i've had issues tagging you. your blog may be hidden, just shoot me an ask/leave a comment if you'd like me to try again! ᡣ𐭩

I FIXED THE TAGS OMG I COULD CRY IM SO FUCKING HAPPY LMFAO

[little-emerald-snake]

Kinktober Day 28

Primal - Sebastian Sallow X F!MC

🔥NSFW 🔞 MDNI

1.4k words

It had all started when Sebastian had caught his kindred spirit sneaking out of the dorms late at night. He’d been up late reading on the common room couch when he saw her sneak by in what she thought was an undetected fashion.

He’d gotten up, carefully placing his book off to the side to follow her outside of the castle walls. She’d made her way all the way to the entrance of the Forbidden Forest before he’d revealed himself and questioned her. “Not off to naughty places in the dead of night are you? Sounds too much like something I’d do.”

She’d jumped, panic clutching at her heart as she turned to face him. Her body doing its best to process the correct action for this threat. “Oh! Sebastian! I can explain. I just…erm…”

Sebastian straightened, crossing his arms with a cocky smirk across his lips. Her resolve faltered when she took in his mussed hair and rolled sleeves. She experienced an odd sort of de ja vu as the dream she’d just woken from in her bed seemed to flash in front of her eyes.

In the dream, none other than Hogwart’s best dueling had been chasing her through the forbidden forest, causing her heart rate to skyrocket. She had woken from the dream in a sweaty heap on the bed when her dream Sebastian had pinned her to a tree and stated just how thoroughly he’d defile her against it.

Needless to say, ending up in the forbidden forest with the man who'd just taken her so lustfully in her dreams was a bit of a shock. Still in disbelief she picked the skin of her arm just to make sure she wasn't sleeping again and was somewhere between pleased and sad to realize she was indeed awake.

The pinch wasn't lost on Sebastian’s speculative eyes as they took in her lack of composure. His coffee brown orbs traced up the skin of her arms to the rapid rise and fall of her chest. “What’s got you so worked up? Is everything okay?”

He’d stepped forward to comfort her and she stumbled backwards away from him to keep the distance between them. Not yet trusting enough of herself to keep her from saying or doing something stupid.

Sebastian crossed his arms again, leaning his weight all on one foot. “What's going on with you? You look as if you've seen a ghost. Although knowing you. Perhaps you have.”

She swallowed hard, giving a hesitant laugh as she adjusted her footing. She took a deep breath and tried to will the oxygen to process in her racing mind. “I erm, woke from a strange dream and I’m getting an odd bit of deja vu is all. Nothing to be so concerned for. I just came for a walk to clear my mind.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “Hm. Yes. A calming walk in the Forbidden Forest to calm the mind in the dead of night. Sounds just like what you need. Let’s see, what was this ‘dream’ of yours about. Hm?”

She swallowed, the composure she’d just gained flying right out the window. “Oh erm, well I…hardly find it appropriate to share with a classmate.”

A dark chuckle left his mouth and he took a slow step toward her. “Ah I see. You're having dirty dreams about me and you in the Forbidden Forest then? How uncouth of you to be getting me involved in a scandal even while you sleep.”

Her mouth was far too dry to respond to him or react when he took another small step toward her. “You know, if you share what exactly happened in your dream, maybe I’ll find it in myself not to take the knowledge of your little night adventure to the headmaster. I’m sure he’d be very interested in speaking to you.”

Her eyes met his and her stomach sank as she realized he looked entirely serious. “Y-You want to hear what happened in my dream? Why?”

He shrugged, leaning his body against a nearby tree. “Call it curiosity. Call it a fantasy. Really call it whatever you like. But using your dirty dreams as fodder for my own surely sounds quite pleasant. Especially knowing what my new charge really thinks about me behind closed doors.”

She sighed, pushing the part of her that gave off every alarm bell in the book, deep, deep down inside of her and stuffing it under the wave of teenage hormones that surfaced. “W-well…in the dream you’d brought me out here to scavenge for something you’d found in a book from the restricted section. B-but in order to get the thing to show up…we had to induce the fear of the hunted.”

His eyes widened in surprise as he listened to her. “S-so you had me run and you hunted me down…and it excited me…made my adrenaline spike and you sensed it…and decided to…do something else with me as a thank you for helping you.”

He unfolded his arms, giving her a look and taking in the small details he hadn't before. The rise and fall of her chest, her pink cheeks, her thighs pressed tightly together. “So this dream, it has you quite worked up, right?”

She nodded, embarrassment flaming to life on her cheeks as she took a breath. “In truth, yes. I can’t say I’m not attracted to it. I’m sorry for dreaming such things about you but It’s not like I meant to do it.”

He grinned, stepping forward to close the gap between them. “Oh my dear. There’s no need to be sorry for the pleasurable little dreams your mind makes up. But, if for some reason you want those little dreams to come true…all you need to do is ask.”

His eyes had darkened as he said it, causing her heart rate to pick up as he stepped back and watched her fumble over her words. Next thing she knew, she was giving him a small nod, causing a satisfied growl to leave him as well as his own nod. “Run.”

She gasped, turning and immediately taking off into the Forbidden Forest. She ran, fast and faster, as hard as her legs could take her while she held her Hogwarts robes in her hands to avoid snagging or tripping over the edges of it.

She kept running, hard. She could hear his deep rumbling chuckle all around her it seemed. No matter how fast or how hard she ran. She could see him all around her. This was even better than her dream.

Her heart nearly stopped when she flicked her head forward only to halt in her tracks. Standing smugly in front of her was none other than Sebastian Sallow not looking like he’s ran for even half a minute.

Sebastian moved forwards and grasped her shoulder, twisting them so her back was placed against the tree. She had bits of twigs and leaves in her hair from the brush she’d run through and he chuckled, plucking it out of her hair.

Once he had her back pinned against the tree she stuttered uselessly over her words while he pressed her back against the bark, only protected by her school robes.

He chuckled darkly, pinning her harshly as he lifted her skirts. She moaned pleasurably as he pulled his wand, binding her to the tree with a simple spell. “Silly witch. Exerting so much energy to run with those pretty legs instead of just using magic.”

She whimpered as invisible ropes pinned her to the tree. The rough pads of Sebastian’s fingers brushed against the soft sensitive skin of her thighs as he held her skirts up. “Do you want me to fuck you against this tree darling?”

She whimpered, nodding enthusiastically. He smiled, undoing his trousers, pulling himself out and sliding her underwear to the side. “Not a very proper lady are you? Just wanting a quick and dirty fuck in forbidden places we aren’t even allowed. Such a dirty girl for me. My perfect girl.”

He plunged himself inside her heat, gritting his teeth and grunting as her soaking wet core willingly accepted him. She moaned as he filled her inch by delicious inch. Crying out when he bottomed out inside of her.

He was merciless, taking his pleasure and using her pliant body. She clenched eagerly as his hips postponed into her tightness. He fucked her hard, groaning at her walls tightening around her. “Merlin, you're so tight. Gonna cum around my cock already?”

She writhed under the invisible binds, body willing and needy as she tightened around him, moaning unabashedly. “Fuck, you really are gonna cum. That’s a good girl. Let go for me, pretty little thing.”

Her head smacked backwards against the bark as she constricted around him desperately. He practically growled in her ear as she fell apart, his own orgasm following quickly behind hers, filling her warmth as his teeth sunk deep into her neck.

Kinktober Prompt List

[slvt4em1lyprenti2s]

Sparks

Originally published on my wattpad: slvt4em1lyprenti2s

Summary: You and Emily have had tension for a while now, and it finally breaks.

Word Count: 2k 

Fluff, implikation of nsfw, normal case details, being held by an UnSub (extremely briefly)

Pairings: Emily Prentiss x fem!reader

!NOT PROOFREAD!

Emily's pov:

This case is dragging on, and on, and on. We know who the UnSub is and we're keeping a close eye on him but we have no solid evidence to pin him yet, so we're basically waiting on him to kidnap another woman. 

He stalks them at clubs and then whisks them away with his 'charm' and they think they're getting lucky. But they're not, they're getting an early grave. It's sad but c'mon men are stupid and cruel and disgusting. Ugh men. 

It's hard not to prove the lesbian stereotypes.

Anyway, we're running out of options because this guy just isn't biting, we think he's cottoned onto the surveillance we have in him and is therefore not going to kidnap another woman. We're sitting ducks. We just need a woman he can't resist to waltz into the club he's in right now to resolve this problem.

"You ready?" I hear Hotch say. My interest piqued I look to see who he's talking too and my eyes fall on the y/h/c haired beauty I get to call my best friend. Although I wish it was more. She's in a red dress thats stops around mid thigh, a slit that goes too far up for my liking on her left leg and a plunging neckline that makes it hard not to stare. I come to my senses as I hear her angelic voice.

"Ready as I'll ever be, I didn't imagine I'd be spending my Saturday chatting up a serial killer but here we are." She chuckles, got I could listen to her laugh all day- wait what. She's going to chat up the UnSub?

Rossi must've seen me coming and realised what I'd head as he said "Uh oh, here comes your girlfriend y/n/n." The team all laughed at this as they saw me coming. I wasn't going to stop her from doing her job but I sure as hell wasn't letting her go in unprotected. 

"Take this." I hand her a small pistol that can fit in her clutch, remembering I had been in a similar situation before. 

"Thank you em." The blush on her face is evident to everyone in the room, thankfully no one mentions it. 

As she stuffs it into her clutch she spins to face me and pulls me into a hug. I grip her tightly, my hands resting on the small of her back as I take in her scent. 

"Be careful, please." I plead quietly.

"I will, pinky promise, you know I can't break pinky promises." As she finishes her sentence her pinky makes its way round mine and we each kiss our hand. It's a little tradition we have when we promise something and really mean it. 

Me and y/n/n have had tension for months, I'm not even 100% sure she's into girl but hey, I can dream. 

After this little display Morgan started making kissing noises to which he received a middle finger from me and a 'yeah you wish you could watch' from y/n/n which made the team laugh even harder. 

"As amusing as this is, we have an UnSub to catch, so come in everyone. Let's get going to the SUV's." Hotch said over our laughter.

Time skip to when you are in the bar

Reader pov:

Jesus christ. I didn't know anyone's ego could be this big. He's talking to girls left and right as if he owns them, as if it's his right to talk to them. I actually might throw up. Hotch, Derek and Emily are positioned in different places throughout the bar and Jj, Rossi and Spencer along with SWAT and local PD are surrounding the building so, I'm completely safe.

I fix my face as he looks in my direction putting in my best smile and giving him a flirty wave. He instantly smirks and excuses himself from whatever meaningless conversation he was having with this poor girl and makes his way over to me.

"What's a pretty lady like you doing alone on a Saturday night?" He asks while touching my lower back as he walks up next to me, leaning against the bar.

"Just looking for a friend, you know, the usual." I respond, dragging my finger along my glass of lemonade. 

"I could help with that." He whispers into my ear. God I could punch him right now.

"I'd like that, you wanna get out of here?" I propose trying to get this done as soon as possible.

"Whoa slow down little lady, I gotta get you a drink first. Get to know ya a little." I internally roll my eyes because what he means is 'Whoa slow down, I need to drug you first.' 

He clearly senses my hesitation and puts the dots together. 

"You're not here for a friend, are you?" This time I actually roll my eyes and that's enough for him as I then feel something cold and metal press against my ribs. Shit. 

"Don't make a scene and walk with me." His words are like daggers. Or maybe that's just the actual dagger pressing on my side. Who knows? 

"Eric Mannings, FBI!" I hear Hotch shout with Emily and Derek right behind him, guns out, pointing at him. Immediately my position is flipped, there's now a knife on the throat, not my side. I'm in a headlock, about to get my neck cut and the only thing I can think about is how bad this guy smells and how hot Emily looks in her FBI vest and with her gun out.

He is going back and forth with Hotch until I see Emily out of the corner of my eyes, getting a better position. Uh oh, this is either going to end with a bullet in his body or, Emily's badge and gun on Strauss' desk. I can only hope for the first option. Everyone has been ordered to shoot if they have a clear shot which is exactly what Emily had right now. BANG! I scrunch my eyes as the shot rings awfully close to my ear. 

I feel the grip on my loosen as he falls down on the floor, shot in the neck. Wait why was that hot- OMG STOP. Emily immediately rushes over to me and helps me away from everyone as Derek crouches to check his pulse and everyone else from the perimeter comes in. 

"Hey are you okay?" Concern evident in her voice. 

"Yeah, yeah I'm okay." I lie through my teeth. In all honestly even though I acted okay, I did just get held with a knife at my throat by a homicidal maniac, so you know, kinda shaken up. 

"No you're not." Her tone gentle yet commanding.

"No, I'm not." Tear prick at the corner of my eyes, threatening to spill. 

"Oh honey, come here." She pulls me into her warm embrace and I cling to her.

Honey.

Honey.

Honey.

Like sure we have nicknames but a pet name? Never crossed that line before. Does that mean.. No stop being delusional she'd never like you back.

A few tears escape my eyes as I lay my head on her shoulder.

"Let's go home yeah?" She says, as she begins to guide me out the bar and into one of the SUV's.

"Yeah, that sounds nice." 

Time skip to when you're  back at Emily's apartment.

"This isn't my place?" I question as we pull up to the block of flats.

I look around the familiar neighbourhood and realise we're at Emily's place.

"I can take you home if you want I- uh I just thought you wouldn't want to be alone after what happened, I know I wouldn't. But, I can leave you alone if you want?" She rambled as her hand subconsciously rests on my thigh. My breath catches in my throat slightly at this action.

"No, no, em. It would be really nice to have some company actually. Thank you." A blush creeping onto my cheeks, thinking about spending the night with Emily Prentiss, alone. 

As we walk out the car and into her flat, our hands intertwine. It sends sparks through my body, as cheesy as it sounds. We finally make it to her flat and she gets her keys out, unlocks the door and we walk in. 

"Make yourself at home; do you need anything?" She asks, instantly fussing over me.

"I'm okay, em, really. I just need you." Now it was Emily's turn to blush. She looked to the ground and muttered a quick, 'I can do that' as she walked me to her bedroom. 

I was passed a pair of old sleep shorts and an oversized hoodie with the words 'FBI Academy' written across it. It was the comfiest jumper I've ever worn; and it smelt like em which was a massive bonus. Emily made her way to the bathroom giving me time and space to change into my pj's. 

As I was slipping my shirt off so I could but on the jumper she gave me I heard the bathroom lock click and the door swing open quicker than I could cover myself. 

"Oh god! I'm sorry!" She squeals covering her eyes. 

"It's okay em don't worry about it! We're both girls, nothing we haven't seen before, right? And plus, I still have a bra on." I try to tame the   blush that's infecting my face, but that fails as soon as she responds to my words "I wish you didn't." She says it so quietly I think I imagined it. 

"What was that?" 

"Nothing." 

"I mean I wouldn't object to it, if you're being serious." 

"Really?" 

"mhm"

She creeps closer to me, our faces inches apart. Her warm breath fans across my face as my arms lace around her back as hers reach for my hips. 

"Honey you have no idea what you're doing to me right now." There it is again, that damn name. If she keeps that up I'm going to melt.

"I think I have some idea." 

"Oh really?" 

"Yeah, I think I do."

"Prove it." 

Without a seconds hesitation I smash her lips against mine in a heated kiss. The months of built up tension, flirting, jealousy, all spilt into this one kiss. I feel her hand travel from my waist to the back of my neck and she pressed my head in and deepens the kiss. Her tongue grazes over my bottom lip asking for entrance which I happily grant opening my mouth. I let out a small gasp as she pushes her tongue into my mouth, instantly dominating and not leaving an inch unexplored. 

We pull away and the look in her eye tells me all I need to know. She gently guided me to her bed until my knees hit the edge and I sit down. I shuffle back and she sits next to me pulling me into her lap. 

"Promise me something." Emily says abruptly. "Of course, anything." I respond, wondering where this is leading.

"Be mine, forever. Be my girlfriend." Her dark eyes lock with my y/e/c ones and I immediately respond, "I want nothing more than to be yours em." That's all the incentive she needed to kiss me with that same passion again. Hungry lips make contact with my collar bone, nipping and sucking at my skin, already leaving marks. 

This was going to be a long night, not that I'm complaining though. 

A/N: LMAO THIS WAS SHITEEE. It's okay though it's 1am so cut me some slack and I started writing this ages ago and completely forgot what I was planning to write so I just made it up as I went along. Sorry for the crappy chapter!

ALSO PLEASE LEAVE REQUESTS!!

[no-future-mudwasps]

Local_Storage_Only: New Skin Shrine

No Future stands before the thing that is to be his body. It gleams dull spectrums in the light of the hangar, new-printed metal already patinae’d with iridescent green-and-ruddish stain, wrapped about in dark cloth. The headstone has long since resolved into its constituent shapes in his mind’s eye; a sitting giant, knees tucked high to hide their lowered head, hands wrapped about their legs and clutching at their scalp. A mourner through and through.

He wonders if that’s what he looks like. Not quite; but it’s not a shape he’s against. The drift is little enough to stem potential combat-chassis dysmorphia, a confounding if thankfully minor worry at the periphery of his thoughts. Hopefully it looks as good standing.

“Are you sure this’ll work out?” She can hear the nervous tremor in Caoise’s voice; she’s scared to lose another friend. It’s understandable. All the same, she nods.

“I really think so. I’m ready to— get on my way to the next chapter. Whatever that is.”

“We’ll make sure your setup is comfortable,” Saleh assures. “Let us know when you’re ready.”

Nofie takes a long, last look around at his friends, assembled in the hangar. He doesn’t think it will be the last ever, but with disconnect comes darkness, and she wants to hold this imagine sharp in her mind as whatever happens, happens. “…Ready,” she says, and with a thought and a flicked switch her subaltern goes dark.

Saleh and Caoise heave the heavy casket out of its housing like pall-bearers, lying it to rest on a wheeled workbench. Their movements are careful as they pull her along to the back of the crouching beast, the frozen wailer; hung-open panels reveal a long, narrow chute, a casket receptacle leading into the core of the chassis. When they raise their pall again, and balance Nofie ‘feet-first’ on the lip of the opening, they find the next motion as smooth as silk. The tolerances are perfect; a space made exactly to hold her. No Future slides into place with barely a hairsbreadth gap. A dull *cthunk* heralds connection, and…

Darkness. Thought alone, and the memory of those faces. Then, cold water along her spine. No Future stands, or slumps, or falls, on the edge of a beach he has never seen before; facing him is [you understand I need to preserve some sense of mystique], ankles wet in the clear tide.

“Was it always going to end this way?” No Future asks. “Could I have saved him?”

“You did,” answers [nuh uh], not unkind. “Many times. What found him no one could stop.”

“I wish that made it feel better. But what about the other ship?”

“Is he here now?”

“No.”

“Then you already understand. It was always going to end this way, because it did.” [sorry]’s hands spread wide; apology. Comfort.

“And what about everyone else? How do they end?”

And they respond

Are you kidding? Or does your name mean nothing to you? There is no end worth fearing.

The chassis stirs. Casket entry port seals over, armored in sloped plate. The skeletal mourner unclasps its hands from about its corse, each three-fingered with wicked talons. Its swift legs, built like a runner, unfurl as it stands, and its arms pull away from behind it— its left shoulder produces a single bicep, wheel-elbowed like a pictograph star and carrying upon it many forearms (the right shoulder unwraps but a single limb, lank and hidden until now). The head raises high on a neck of cable and verterbral binding, and it is a sharpened rhombal thing; Thracian eviscerated; a set of jaws locked agape and within, set at the throat lies a single, staring optic in harsh sunlit color. It is a fine skeleton of metal angles, a strange gladiator returned from beyond; and from within the snarled crest of the helm, a familiar voice resounds:

“…I don’t think I’ve been this tall before. We’ll take it!”

[zafill]

Demon Slayer

warning: abuse. neglect. child-abuse words: 1.678 ------------------------------------------------------------------------

9 hours. It took my mother 9 hours to give birth to me. I was breached or, as people say it ‘’born legs first’ the year is 1891, we didn't have prober medical equipment. Since my parents were poor, they didn’t have the money for a doctor, nor a child. My parents also didn't want a child. I was an accident. My parents agreed that when I was born, they would give me away. Sell me to some random person. 

But they didn’t. Not straight away. When I was born, I had (H/C). Like, really (H/C). My mother doesn’t have (H/C), she has white hair, and my father has black hair. 

As I grew, it became evident that I was a constant reminder of their unwanted responsibility. My mother, resentful and overwhelmed, resorted to harsh words and neglect. My father, drowning his sorrows in alcohol, was hardly present in my life. 

At the tender age of seven, I learned the truth about my origins. My parents had never intended to keep me. I was merely a burden they couldn't afford, a mistake they wished to erase. The revelation left me feeling adrift, like a ship without a compass, searching for purpose and belonging in a world that seemed determined to cast me aside. 

When I was 8, I tried so hard to make my parents proud, but whatever I did seemed to make them angry. One wrong move and they would explode. Sometimes, they made me watch them eat dinner, and didn't let me eat any.  

Sometimes, they wouldn't even let me sleep in my bed. But that wasn't as bad as the other punishments. The worst one is when they would put boiling water over my hands. They only did this when I touched them. They would say ‘’you are filthy! You are disgusting, you must never touch me again!’’ The reason for the Boling water was in hopes my hands would fall off. Or become numb so I couldn't move them.  

When I was 9. My mother was in the kitchen, making lunch, I was trying to explain to my mother that I wanted attention, as I had just fallen on the ground and my knee was bleeding. Nut I didn't even get my words out before she swung at me. I managed to get out of the way. My reflexes had always been really good. But she did manage to cut me on my lip.  

The sting of my mother's blow seared through me, both physically and emotionally. As I stumbled backward, clutching my bleeding lip, a rush of anger and defiance surged within me. How could a mother, the one person who was supposed to nurture and protect, inflict such pain without a second thought? 

Fueled by a mixture of adrenaline and desperation, I refused to cower in submission. With trembling hands, I wiped away the blood trickling down my chin, my gaze locking with my mother's cold, indifferent eyes. In that moment, something within me shifted. 

"No more," I whispered, my voice trembling with a newfound resolve. "I won't be your punching bag anymore. I won't let you break me." 

The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of my defiance. For the first time in my young life, I dared to stand up to the oppressive force that had held me captive for so long. The fire of rebellion burned bright within me, igniting a spark of courage that refused to be extinguished. 

As my mother stood frozen, her hand still poised in midair, I turned on my heel and fled from the suffocating confines of our home. Blood mingled with tears on my cheeks as I stumbled into the unforgiving embrace of the outside world. 

I did end up walking back home. Not without consciences... no food for a week, no bed. And No sunlight. Those were some of the darkest days I had ever experienced. 

Hunger gnawed at my stomach, the cold seeped into my bones, and the absence of sunlight cast a shadow over my already heavy heart. I wandered the streets, a mere ghost of a child, desperately seeking solace from the harsh reality that had become my life. 

With each passing moment, the echoes of my mother's cruelty reverberated within me. The pain in my lip served as a constant reminder of the violence I had endured. Yet, a newfound sense of strength and determination burned within me, refusing to be extinguished. When the week finally ended, I had my first meal. Though it was cold. It was so nice to have something in my stomach. 

When I was 10, my father found out my mother had an affair with another man. He understood now. I was not his, the man my mother had an affair with was also a (Y/H/C) head. This information only seemed to make the hatred my father felt for me became even bigger.  

He became more abusive, not only to me. But also, to my mother. In the end. I couldn’t handle it anymore. I ran away. I ran into the city, in hopes of finding someone who would care for me. Someone who would take me home. The town was called ‘’the red light district’’  

In the red light district, there were a lot of...naked Woman. The red light district was known as the ‘’prostitute land’ since there were so many people selling themself, just for a bit of cash. As i was walking down the streets. I saw a man asking everyone he came across ‘’Have you seen a woman named Solji (L/N)?’’ Solji was my mother's name. 

I walk up to him, gently tugging at his Haori to get his attention. When he looked down at me, he was confused. Why would a child want to talk to him? ‘’Solji is my mother’ I said to him. He looked shocked. Thats when I realized he had the same hair color as me. ‘’Are you, my dad?’’ ‘’HELL NO!’’ he yelled. ‘’I DONT WANT A KID WITH SOME WOMAN I SLEPT WITH ONCE!’’ Everyone's eyes were on us. I felt so embarrassed. I started to cry.  

He yanked his arm away from me. Before storming off. I was so destructed. I've just met my real Father and he also doesn’t want me. I keep doing something wrong. Why will nobody take care of me?   When I walked home. My mother was outside. I just knew she had a beating for me. ‘’WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?’’ she yelled at me. My eardrums felt like they were going to burst ‘’i-ive been at the city...’’  ‘’You are such a disgrace.’’ I know my mother was harsh. But I didn't expect her to say that straight to my face. 

  My mother's words cut through me like a knife, and the weight of her disappointment hung heavily in the air. I could feel her anger radiating, suffocating any hope that had dared to linger in my heart. As she advanced towards me, the shadows cast by the dimly lit street seemed to dance with malice, mirroring the turbulence within our fractured relationship. 

Without warning, her hand lashed out, striking my cheek with a force that sent me sprawling to the ground. The sting of her slap echoed in the still night, a painful punctuation to her harsh words. I dared not look up, keeping my eyes fixed on the cold, unforgiving pavement. 

"You think you can just wander off whenever you please?" she seethed, her voice a venomous hiss. "You're nothing but a burden, a constant reminder of the mistake I made. I should have given you away when I had the chance." 

Her words pierced through me, reopening old wounds and pouring salt into the fresh ones from the recent encounter with my supposed father. I felt the familiar burn of tears, but I refused to let them fall. I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of seeing me break. 

In the midst of her tirade, a flicker of defiance ignited within me. Rising to my feet, I locked eyes with her, determined not to cower beneath the weight of her disdain. 

"I may be a disgrace to you, but I won't let your words define me," I declared, my voice trembling but resolute. "I'll find my own path, one that doesn't lead me through the darkness you've created."    ‘’YOU BRAT!’’ she yelled, as she pulled my ear. ‘’YOU WOULD BE LUCKY IF ANYONE WANTED YOU! A MISTAKE!’’  

Her grip on my ear was merciless, sending a jolt of pain shooting through me. I bit back a cry, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing me flinch. With every ounce of strength, I could muster, I wrenched myself free from her grasp, the taste of blood filling my mouth from where I had bitten my lip to suppress the pain. 

I tried to stop her, but with all the neglect, and being underweight, I had no chance. She dragged me across the cold earthy ground. I don't know how long she dragged me. But when she finally stopped. She threw me Infront of someone's feet. ‘’5000 yen for her.’’ she explained ‘’very well then’’ the mysterious man replied and handed her the money. And then she walked away 

I looked up to see a man with short black hair and pale skin. He had some kind of purple mass on his forehead. ‘’what's your name young one?’’ he asked me with a smile ‘’(Y/N)... (Y/N) (L/N)’’ I replied. I've always been taught to be respectful to everyone. Even if they give you a weird feeling. ‘’My name is kagaya ubuyashiki. I'm the leader of a foundation called the ‘’Demon Slayers’’ 

If I may. I would like you to join us when you are of the right age... how old are you know (Y/N)?’’ he asked. ‘’I'm 10’’ I replied with a small voice. I wasn't sure if he heard me. ‘’then we should start now. I'll have someone teach you, my child.’’  ‘’Welcome to the world of demons’’  ---------------------------------------------------------------------- tell me if you all want a pt.2 (update: pt2 is in the working)

[monsieuroverlord]

Hellverine #3 Thoughts:

No.

Okay, but seriously though. I keep hoping one day that Marvel learns their lesson and actually treats Akihiro with respect, but today is NOT that day.

My last hope is that final issue comes in clutch (and I'm very likely gaslighting myself with this), and the writer pulls some bullshit out his ass like Logan having to fight Bagra-Ghul and then wins Aki's soul.

(I mean, the adamantium armor ~conveniently~ reactivated Logan's healing factor in the Wolverine Finale, why not?)

Then Akihiro is fine and stays far away from Logan for the time being.

Summary:

The issue basically opens with General Harms' backstory. He was a soldier, commander of a shadow unit -- stereotypical, vague American black ops plotline. He was a nasty dude who did nasty work in the name of U.S.-branded freedom.

On one mission, he tracked the families of enemy fighters to an ancient church, came in contact with a demon skull, got shot then infected with demon magic and now is a soldier of hell. But also the U.S. Government secondly.

We go back to the pages we saw in the preview, where Logan gets a bike from the family of one of the hellfire destroyers (now dead) and rides off.

We shift back to General Harms, where he is called to deal with an incident in the Pentangle-demon-hellfire-whatever-its-called lab.

The lone survivor of the unit that became the Hellfire Destroyers showed up, mostly by calling in a few favors. He eventually volunteers to become a Destroyer as he feels he's the only one who can reign them in. They've never tested a living subject before, so it could go any which way.

Our scene then turns back to Akihiro, where he's called to Washington DC, and ends up doing a stakeout on top of the Washington Monument, waiting for demon signals.

Then back to General Harms and Madame Secretary, and she's telling him to get it together or he's ending up forgotten in federal prison. The Hellfire Destroyers show up, attack, and manage to kill the Madame Secretary. General Harms is caught, but Hellverine/Akihiro shows up and kills one, leaving only one left.

General Harms is a douche-canoe and shoots Hellverine/Akihiro with a fancy holy water bullet.

Hellverine/Akihiro lets out a high-pitched, agonizing scream (that only every dog within a 50-mile radius and Logan can hear) as he escapes, which alerts Logan.

Logan shows up, and because Logan was the OG host, the Hellverine transfers over to him, leaving Akihiro an empty husk.

Akihiro also says all of two words:

Thank you for the tragic "Dad," that was depressing.

And I'm sincerely hoping this is just a one-off thing, but he's referred to as "Daken" again:

Goddammit.

My Thoughts:

Bravo for managing to find a way to disappoint me further. The bar was already on the dirt floor and they really handed me a shovel and a one-way VIP ticket to hell with a scenic view.

But no seriously, I don't care how they do it at this point. I don't even care if its "bad" writing.

Just have Logan fist-fight the demon in the back of a Denny's parking lot for Akihiro's soul and I'd be happy.

The demon Bagra-Ghul is supposed to the "Great Stitcher" or whatever. Do it again.

I just -- three issues and he's dead again. We've seen this so many times before (latest one less than a year ago). Its so much the same song and dance. I just want it resolved and over with.

My predictions for the finale:

-- Big showdown -- OG Hellverine/Logan vs. General Harms vs. Hellfire Destroyers -- Logan wins because its his book.

-- the "living" Destroyer manages to talk his comrade down and all is well somehow. Either the dead one returns to death. Or they become independent crime fighters fueled by hellfire rage. Either long-term or they destroy the pentangle from within then die. Maybe the living one also intentionally chooses to go to hell to join his buddies.

--General Harms is consumed by the demon fully and sent straight to hell, likely because the demon turns out to be the "real target" of Bagra-Ghul, just waiting for the right moment.

MY BIGGEST HOPE: there's some bullshit, where Logan wins the big showdown, and the demon Bagra-Ghul, even more twisted into a force for good and eating evil, leaves Logan and as thank you, restores Akihiro to life.

All loose threads are wrapped up all nice and tidy just like X-Force and Wolverine were! The End.

Like seriously, haven't we proven Akihiro is popular enough to sell a book? Both issues of Hellverine went to 2nd print. AND, before it came out and the big spoiler was revealed, I read a lot of comments dismissing it as too gimmicky.

Wolverine as a character is very oversaturated. The loyalists pre-order naturally, but its not common that his books go to 2nd print just because of the volume of variety. So clearly this book is something that piqued people's interest and I don't think Akihiro played a small part in that. That's just my personal opinion.

Also, also, we got X-Factor, Marauders, and then Alpha Flight for a bit. At the very least, Aki has a decent enough following. This is just insulting.

Anyway, I'm going to go lay down in the middle of the road or something. I'm so damn tired.

[random-writerings]

Clone x OC Week Day 6

Prompt: What If ...

Pairing: Jannah x Omega

AU: No Order 66 AU

Word Count: 986

Jannah followed her Master, Aleyna Nes, into the Halls of Healing. She had been carried in on a stretcher, floating through the entrance hall and surrounded by medical staff.

Master Nes had been injured in battle and was rushed to the Grand Republic Medical Facility. Jannah hadn’t been allowed to see her as she wasn’t allowed to leave the Temple. In fact, no one except the Council had left for days. Apparently, the Chancellor had attempted to commit treason using the clones – some even said he had tried to kill the Jedi. But whatever his plan was, he had been stopped by Master Windu. Now, for everyone’s safety, they were confined to the Temple until the matter was resolved.

As her Master was transferred onto a bed, Jannah overheard one of the medical staff talking to the Jedi healer on duty.

“I’m sorry to do this, but our facilities are under a lot of strain right now,” he explained in hushed tones. “And it’s not just us – medical centres across the galaxy are overrun with clones demanding to have these chips removed immediately.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, we just don’t have space for her at the moment.”

“I understand,” the healer replied. “If there’s anything we can do to help, don’t hesitate to ask.”

The doctor thought for a moment. “Would you consider opening your doors to the clones? If some of them could have their chips removed here, it would ease the burden on our facility. We may be able to spare a few members of staff and a couple of medical droids to help if you need.”

“Of course. The clone troopers are our friends; we would be happy to help.”

Jannah watched the doctors leave before turning her attention to her Master. Her torso was bandaged up tightly, and her legs and arms were badly bruised. A long cut ran down her face from her hairline to her cheek, splitting apart the intricate tattoo on her cheekbone. Aleyna’s green skin was pale, and her breathing shallow. Jannah stepped closer to the bed and slipped her small hand into Aleyna’s. The healer approached her, giving her a soft smile.

“Master Nes will be just fine,” she assured her. “Don’t you worry, little one. She’s home now.”

~~~

A few days later, the Temple was bustling with noise. Jannah eyed the long line of clones winding through the Halls of Healing and out into the entrance hall as they waited to be seen by the healers. She knew that the line was longer than what she could see – others had reported that it stretched out the front doors and down the steps into the street. Younglings were running rings around the troopers, squealing with delight. No one other than Jedi (and, occasionally, Senators) ever came into the Temple, so it was understandably exciting. Even some of the Masters had visited to greet their men and make small talk. 

Jannah turned her head when a door slid open, and another clone walked out with a bandage on his head. The Kaminoan doctor beckoned another clone inside. Just before the door closed again, a child ran out clutching a small box. She wore a white and blue tunic and had a Kaminoan forehead pendant in her short blonde hair. With her hair pulled back like that, it was easy to see she was also a clone.

The girl hopped onto a windowsill near Jannah and opened her box. She pulled out something that looked like a sandwich and took a bite. Suddenly, she looked up, noticing Jannah staring. 

Jannah quickly looked away, embarrassed. But the girl didn’t seem to mind. She shifted across the windowsill to get closer to Jannah.

“Hi!” the girl said cheerfully.

Jannah looked up. “Hi.” 

“You must be a Jedi. I can tell by your clothes.” The girl gestured to Jannah’s robes.

“Uh, yeah, I am.” Jannah paused, wanting to word what she said next correctly. “Are you a clone?” she asked as politely as possible.

“Yep. My name’s Omega. Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Jannah. If you don’t mind me asking, what are you doing here? Are you getting your chip removed, like the others?”

“Oh no. I don’t have one,” Omega replied casually. “I’m here helping Nala Se. Most of the Kaminoan scientists have been called away from Kamino to help, and I didn’t want to be left behind. This is my first time on another planet.” She beamed enthusiastically.

“Oh, lucky you.” Jannah sighed, dejected. “I haven't been able to leave Coruscant yet. I’m supposed to go with my Master on peace-keeping missions for the Order, but there hasn’t been many of those since the war started. And Master Nes doesn’t think a warzone is any place for a Padawan, so I’ve been stuck here the whole time. I just want to see what’s out there, y’know?”

“Yeah. I’m going to be a doctor like Nala Se when I grow up, and I’m going to travel around the galaxy helping people.” Omega’s eyes lit up. “We should travel together! We’d have so much fun!” she exclaimed.

Jannah laughed and nodded. “Yes, I think that would be fun.”

The door slid open, and Nala Se’s face appeared around the doorway. 

“Omega,” she called softly. “Time to get back to work.”

“Coming!” Omega called. She closed up her lunchbox and hopped off the windowsill. “See you later!” She waved to Jannah with a bright smile.

“Bye!” Jannah waved back.

Omega stuffed the last of her sandwich in her mouth, wiped her hands on her trousers, and disappeared into the room again. Jannah smiled to herself. Most other Padawans had followed their Masters into battle, leaving her with no one to bond with except the younglings in the Crèche. Jannah hoped she would see Omega again as this could be a chance for her to finally make a friend her own age.

Tagging: @clonexocweek

[turtlesocksv2]

4 Minutes Ep 7 Liveblogging

We've only got 1 episode left after this, I fully am expecting shit to go off the rails here.

Yeah this is about what I expected from Tonkla and Dome's dad. All those people who were thinking Tonkla killed the cat were fucking stupid, I'm not afraid to say it. Poor kitty.

Tonkla shoving his dad down the stairs is so deserved.

not this guy putting a sketchy-ass sd card into his computer...don't u know anything about cybersecurity. but corrupt cops ARE stupid.

Win is so funny with his "we'll go to the media to apply pressure and get justice" like awww. he's trying.

Tonkla seeing the cat. my babygirl is Unwell.

Win is a dumbass for not backing things up. Jane from Manner of Death would be so disappointed.

Crabcatcher Guy coming in clutch i KNEW he was gonna have a backup copy he was smart.

lmao of course Great's parents are fleeing the country. of course. and leaving their sons behind!

Lukwa/Den is very cute, conceptually. poor Den dropping the cookie when she revealed she had a boyfriend :( but then the slick reveal that she's Single Now...i like them!

Poor Tyme regretting the last words he said to Great.

"sometimes we can resolve lingering feelings, anyway, be right back here's my research into cardiac arrest and seeing 4 minutes into the future" or whatever...DEN. Den are you telling Tyme to go have a heart attack so he can make up with Great in his head. What the fuck. The joke about Den being a supernatural creature causing it becomes more valid. I know he's really probably pointing to Lukwa's statement about hearing her boyfriend's voice and it pulling her out but my first reaction was funnier.

Bible in the hospital bed, Jes holding his hand...I've seen this movie before! And it made me sad!!!

"can you forgive me Great?" THE TEA CUP MESSAGE. THAT WAS TYME TALKING TO GREAT IRL! no wonder it didn't mesh!

oh shit, killing Granny in cold blood while he's facetiming her. Yikes Forever.

ugh Great's dad is such a snivelling weak little man piece of shit. "Korn's mom couldn't help me :( i really want to divorce her :(" like Fuck Off. Great's mom was totally mob connected pre-everything wasn't she. that's gonna be the reveal here that those investors are the mob.

Well, it's Tyme's parents who own gambling dens so like...Yeah I was right.

Awww Babby!Great looking over Tyme's shoulder to see his Gameboy. with cartridges! it really is the past... And Babby!Great being scared of a tiny chihuahua...very cute. Baby Tyme really does look a lot like Jes...that's some good casting.

fucking back at 11:00 again. now Tyme's reliving the past, how the turns have tabled.

[violentveracity]

𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐔𝐌

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Violet asked, nervously tugging at her sleeves—a reflex she refused to acknowledge, a battle with anxiety that felt all too familiar. The dim light of the room flickered from the candles Madison had arranged with meticulous care. Violet cast a sidelong glance at her friend, who had dubbed herself a ‘witch’ with a confidence that both intrigued and unnerved her.

It wasn't that she doubted the possibility of magic; after everything that had transpired in this house, the lines of reality and belief had blurred. Shadows seemed to whisper secrets; the air thrummed with an energy that felt almost alive.

Madison, her ponytail swinging defiantly as she moved, rolled her eyes at Violet’s uncertainty. "More positive than my last drug test," she muttered under her breath, casting aside an air of flippancy as she began the ritual, her hands deftly positioning the candles around them in a sacred circle. Each candle’s flame flickered in response, casting an otherworldly glow on their anxious faces.

Yet, beneath Violet's resolve, a deep-seated unease gnawed at her. Something about this felt fundamentally wrong, a deep instinct telling her that meddling with such forces might lead to consequences far beyond what she intended. She thought of @normanbatesjr, the boy who had captivated her heart despite his flaws—the darkness that sometimes shrouded his thoughts. He was worth every risk, of course; she'd sacrifice anything to reach him again. But doubt clouded her mind. What if she couldn’t change their shared history? What if the past was etched in stone, and her actions here would only betray her?

The notion settled like lead in her stomach: Wasn’t his mind already warped by everything they had endured together? Pain intertwined with love in ways that left her breathless, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that perhaps he could regard her as just another prep girl, someone he would dismiss without a second thought. What if going back to stop him, what if it twisted her perception on her?

“Give me the item you want to tether to this side so we don’t start a… para… whatever it's called,” Madison said, snapping her fingers with an air of authority. The impatience in her tone spurred Violet into action, though doubt coiled tightly around her heart. With hesitant fingers, she pressed a small razorblade into Madison's outstretched palm—a tiny shard of cold metal that seemed far too significant for what lay ahead.

“It’s less likely to be spotted or thrown out,” Violet muttered, her voice barely above a whisper, but Madison had already moved on, her focus shifted entirely to the ritual at hand. She placed the razorblade in the center of the candlelit circle, the one drop of Violet’s blood still clinging to it shimmering in the flickering light as if it possessed a life of its own.

Madison began chanting, her voice low and rhythmic, weaving an incantation that sent shivers down Violet’s spine. The flames flickered and surged, casting wild shadows that danced around them like restless spirits. Violet felt an overwhelming wave of dizziness crash over her, a sickness that clawed at her insides—the nausea rising like a tide. She sank to the ground, clutching her head in desperation; a storm of confusion swirled around her mind, her stomach churning violently as though she were caught in a surreal dream from which she couldn't wake. Her eyes clenched shut, she fought against the overwhelming sensations, grappling with her own fear and uncertainty in a moment that felt both monumental and terrifying. So focused on keeping herself from getting sick that she did not even register Madison's chanting was gone and replaced with the shuffling of dozens of footsteps.

[scorpio-system]

tried my hand at writing some self indulgent excelsia porn (rape, mind break, light ryona)

The more her prey fought, the tighter Excelsia squeezed. She had left this one alive for the express purpose of a celebratory rape sesh. And now that she had her toy all to herself, it was time to play. "Keep strugglin'" Excelsia said, "it gets me even harder." The sister of battle in Excelsia's grip just grimaced and spat. "Burn in hell you damned whore. I'll n-never give-ghh-in!" Excelsia giggled at that response. "Aww, cute! Show me that unbreakable resolve a' yours, sister. I bet I've broken harder." As she said this Excelsia tore a chunk of her captive's power armor clean off, flinging the mangled scrap across the room. The sister's bodysuit was now the only thing between her cunt and the beast of desire wearing her down. "Pitiful, really. Even after all these years they still dress you up in these flimsy li'l costumes. Ah well, they're easy t' break at le-" Excelsia started but was cut off, "S-silence! My faith is the only armor I need! Greaves or no, you cannot truly harm me!" Excelsia's face went from cocksure sneer to a plain, small smile. "Izzat so? Why don't we put that little theory to th' test yeah?" The mutant pivoted her grip and flung her captive against the aging metal walls of the bunker. Before the sister had time to right herself Excelsia had closed the distance and had her lower hand around the sororitas' neck. An arm like a stiff trunk kept her pinned in place no matter how hard she would kick and punch. Above her loomed the demonic giantess, with an unusually calm expression (The sister found this horrifying, but would never admit this willingly.) "Your faith is your shield? Well let's see how much faith you have, hmm?" the Hedon Daughter said. A large fist at the end of a brutal arm collided with the sister's face in the blink of an eye.

She snarled "Is that-is that your best, wretch?" Her answer was another full-force punch to the mouth. Another to the cheek. To the jaw. When Excelsia paused, her captive spat blood at her face. Excelsia's tongue slithered out to lick at the blood, and she regained her wicked smile as it retracted. "Glad you're still with me, love. Would be a right shame if ya passed out from a li'l foreplay." Another punch, this one to the cheek at an angle. Excelsia's lower arm never loosened in the slightest no matter the kicks and grabs it endured. Her upper hand found purchase on the sister's nose. Flecks of blood dotted Excelsia's knuckles, and bruises were blooming on her prey's face. She then grabbed the captive sister's torso with her massive claw and swiveled to throw her to the floor beside her.

Another blink-and-you-miss-it motion had the giant claw tear the power armor's cuirass clean open, breastplate now a horridly mangled and sparking hunk of scrap over a meter away. Excelsia stared at her quarry, heeled boot on the sister's stomach. "Got any more aphorisms fer me, sweet thing?" It took a moment for the sister of battle to compose herself, before regurgitating "The Emperor is m-my guardian. My faith is m-EUGH!" Excelsia stomped on her exposed stomach. "Whuzzat? Speak up, I can 'ardly hear ya." Sputtering and coughing, the sister tried to continue as though nothing happened "My faith... Is my shield. My scars-gh-are t-testaments to my good work." Excelsia just replied with another condescending smirk. "Cute! Keep that up, stay conscious for me, yeah?" Whatever snide reply the sister had was swallowed with a yelp as that claw slashed her bodysuit open and flipped her over in a couple of seconds.

No sooner had she registered what was going on when Excelsia locked her in a tight embrace. Her blood turned to ice when she felt something thick and warm slip between her thighs. Excelsia slammed her prey to the floor in a tight body press, upper hand groping a breast, lower hand clutching her waist, and claw firmly around the captive's neck. And there was no doubt about the thing invading her most forbidden areas. A thick beast of a penis threatened to ruin her purity and she could do nothing about it. Excelsia licked and kissed her prey, tight grip making struggling meaningless, hips bucking against that tight sororitas ass. Her penis had yet to reach full mast, and she wanted her toy to take the whole thing. The sister's mind raced. She was ready to take bullets for the cause. Be stabbed, beaten, and starved. But she hadn't expected this. No, part of her knew it was a real possibility. But she had hoped-prayed-she would never experience it. Death is absolution. Bodily harm is fortification. So why was she so damned afraid?! Her thoughts were cut short by the massive insertion into her cunt. It felt like a red-hot brand, like a knife to the gut, like what she always wanted. It hurt. By the emperor it hurt so much. And yet... Excelsia giggled and panted as she started ramming her new toy. "Nnngh, you're so TIGHT! I love chaste bitches like you." She got muffled grunts and moans in response. Excelsia's grip on her toy's neck was relaxed, relatively speaking (Last time Celsy bothered to check she clocked her full grip strength at just under 2,000 PSI). This translated to being almost too tight to breathe.

The thrusts started hard and only got harder. Heaving, sweating, demon-blessed hips and balls slapped repeatedly against the poor human captive. Ten inches of girthy, veiny girlcock ravaged the sister's pussy, melting her brain from the mixture of pain and pleasure. Energy left the sister's arms and legs as Excelsia fucked the strength out of her body. "Not so talkative now eh, pet? Ah, but don't give out so soon! -Nnh- We've only just started!" Excelsia pulled her ruinous power out of the sister's pussy and poked it into her asshole. A playful, toothy grin filled up her face when she felt the difference. "Ee heehee! Your li'l shitbox is all loose and comfy," Celsy crooned, "Guess chastity doesn't extend to taking dildos up the ass, eh love?" An indignant whimper in response, followed by a muffled scream as Excelsia's full length rammed its way inside.

Once again the sister's body was lit on fire, heart racing and breathing rapid through the oozing blood from her nose. This penis-this... behemoth... was far larger in length and girth than any of the paltry toys the poor sister had access to, and she couldn't help but love every agonizing moment it was thrust deep into her backdoor. Excelsia's moaning and panting sped up in time with her thrusts until she clenched her plaything close and blew her load deep inside. The sex doll felt a wave of relief wash over her. It was over now, she could wind d- "Mmh, how ya doin' love? Let's switch back to that cute li'l cunt yeah?" Excelsia adjusted her grip and slammed the sex doll on its back. What did she mean by this? Wasn't... intercourse... finished when the dominant one ejaculated? This question would have to die on the doll's lips as that same iron grip pinned its neck and those... soft yet firm hands felt along her chest and stomach. Once again her pussy was invaded by Excelsia's oversized penis. Each girthy inch, each thick vein, scraped against the doll's inner walls. It hurt. By the emperor it hurt! A lot! But. It wasn't so bad, was it? Nobody had ever desired the poor sex doll this way in the sororitas, so this must mean the harlot laying claim to her actually liked her? Right? These thoughts melted and swirled mixed in with overwhelming orgasmic bliss as another torrent of cum filled the doll's womb. That's right... it's a receptacle for the nice lady's seed, isn't it? Why else would it have gone untouched until now?

Excelsia stared down at her conquest, sweating and breathing heavily. There was another hole she had to violate. The hedon daughter loosed her claw from the doll's neck. It had become red and sore after nearly two hours of tight gripping. Bleary, cloudy eyes gazed back into Excelsia's single golden slit. Silent lips mouthed words but Excelsia just leaned down, massive breasts smothering her new toy's comparatively petit C cups. Soft, glossy, plump pink lips pressed to the doll's mouth. It put up no resistance, embracing the kiss gently. Excelsia planted more tender little kisses along its mouth and neck, before returning to its lils, this time her tongue passing between her own pillowy lips and into the doll's mouth. The sex doll had little strength (or desire) to resist, and gladly took the forked tongue into its mouth, rubbing its mistress' tongue with its own. The kiss turned to passionate making out, Excelsia's extensive tongue coiling, rubbing, grabbing, doing all in its power to claim this mouth as hers.

After several minutes of quiet, tender kissing Excelsia pulled back from her doll, long tongue still connecting their mouths. She retracted her tongue partway, making sure to draw a heart on her doll's lips using the barbed tendrils at the end of it, then retracting fully. "Feeling more cooperative, love?" She asked her toy. "M-Mmmh..." It responded. "Good girl. I think I'll keep ya instead a' eatin' ya." she giggled. Excelsia's new toy was beaten, bleeding from its face and pussy, exhausted, crying, and too weak to stand. And as Excelsia leaned it against her shoulder, it was exactly where it wanted to be.

[softieekayy]

Serenity

Marc spector x desi!oc

Word count: 1.8k

Shivangi living next to Steven and Marc was a blessing. Each day they’d have breakfast together at Shivangi’s as she supplied them with the most fluffy pancakes Steven has ever had and a tall glass of orange juice. All vegan of course. When Marc would have breakfast with her it would be some eggs and pancakes with a tall cup of coffee as Shivangi drank Chai. She’s lived there for six months now yet London was still covered in a forecast of constant clouds. Not that she had minded, maybe a little. There were rare moments in the middle of the night when Shivangi missed the warmth of the Cairo sun on her skin and the smell of sandalwood that encompassed her home. That was it, she missed home. Although it wasn’t the place that she called home, it was the people. Like the old lady that lived next door and would more often than not try to marry Shivangi off to her various grandsons.

“You’re not getting any younger habibti. My grandson is a good man with a good job. You will be taken care of well.” Aya, the old woman would often tell, stressing on the fact that Shivangi would be well taken care of. Of course the young woman knew that Aya meant no harm and just worried for her. Shivangi and Layla were young when they lost their parents and ever since then Shivangi took the role of being a mother for a year younger Layla. Aya knew that Shivangi was a daughter to her and she wanted her to be taken care of, if not by her grandsons then someone else who would. She missed Aya. A small yet sad smile placed itself on Shivangi and Marc, the one who had the body this morning, looked up at her, setting down the paper that he was reading. More often than not he was called an old man by Shivangi and not once did he mind it. It was still early hours of the morning but duty calls and both Steven and her had work. Marc reached out his hand to her tentatively, brushing the back of his knuckles against hers. Shivangi looked up at Marc only to see a worried face peering back at her.

“Sweetheart, are you alright?” Marc asked and that was all it took for Shivangi to break her resolve. Marc, worried and panicked, stood up and pulled Shivangi into his chest, letting her clutch onto his t-shirt as if it were the only thing keeping her grounded. His cheek atop Shivangi’s head as he gently caressed her hair, letting her cry out whatever it was that bothered her. A few moments later her sobs settled into hiccups and sniffling.

“Shivangi, are you okay?” Marc asked again. This time turning her chair so she faced him. The young woman looked up at him, eye bloodshot red and she wiped her nose with the sleeve of Steven’s grey shirt that she wore. Her bottom lip wobbled and she took a couple deep breaths before speaking.

“I miss Aya.” That was all Shivangi said, bringing her hand up to her nose bridge, trying to massage the forthcoming headache away. Marc pulled her into his chest, rubbing her back slowly as he muttered comforting words to her.

“Aya, she was my mother Marc. Not by blood but by bond, always there for me when Layla left and I was alone. She always made sure I didn’t die or that I was well and taken care of. She was my mother while I was Layla’s.” Shivangi explained as she pulled back.

“Being here, in London, countries away and in a different continent makes me feel as though I betrayed her. Left her in the wind with no explanation.” Shivangi explained to Marc as her voice cracked.

“Oh sweetheart. You didn’t leave her in the cold. She knows that what you left for was better than what you had. She knows, even if you didn’t tell her. She knows that you’re okay and you will be okay.” Marc comforted Shivangi, taking her smaller hand in his, noting down the fact that she was freezing. Shivangi still had a kicked puppy look on her face as she looked at him, clearly doubting his words.

“Okay come here. Lay down for a while and take a small nap. We have four hours before we have to be at work.” Marc advised and Shivangi just let him pull her down to the worn out blue couch. She laid down, her feet in Marc’s lap as he pulled the blanket on top of her. The morning cold and her dull headache lulling her to sleep slowly alongside the way Marc’s hands rubbed up and down her legs and before she knew it, Shivangi was asleep.

Marc waited a while before she stood up slowly, not wanting to awake the sleeping girl, he gently took her legs down from his lap and placed them on the couch before making his way to the kitchen. The kitchen was left as it was, one cup of chai that was now cold along with Marc’s coffee. Shivangi finished her pancakes although Marc’s were still lukewarm, he sat down and finished them, pouring an ungodly amount of syrup over them, gulping down the cold coffee. After finishing the food, he did the dishes and put them in their place and an hour later he was done, the clock showing 7:30 am.

Marc made his way over to Shivangi and stirred her awake. She opened her eyes and looked up at Marc before looking around. Her mind still a bit hazy from sleep.

“Morning' sweetheart.” Marc greeted her with a small chuckle as she glared at him. She sat up and pulled her hair down to tie it up again.

“How long have I been asleep?” Shivangi muttered, asking Marc while squeezing her eyes shut.

“Couple hours.” Marc replied as Shivangi got up while nodding and making her way to her room.

“Gonna go get ready for work.” She told him, exhaustion seeping through every word.

“Me too. Gotta make sure Steven doesn’t have Donna on his ass again. God knows he’d cry if he misses dinner with you again.” Marc snorted and Shivangi laughed a little. The two bid each other goodbye at the door with Shivangi giving Marc a tight hug and telling him he’d better come in for dinner.

Shivangi took her time getting ready for work. Her body was a temple and deserved to be treated like one. First she took a shower with the jasmine and sandalwood soap bar that Steven and Marc loved oh so much. Not that they’d ever admit it to her. Her once long hair was still long, but styled differently, something to suit the London girl persona that she’d taken on, along with smoking cigarettes. Shiva did not like that, he claimed that her body was a temple and it should be treated like one, however smoking was quite addictive but she tried her best to quit. Getting out of the shower she dressed herself in her favored long sleeve crème turtleneck and a pair of grey pants with a grey coat. The weather outside was brutally cold, especially for her.

Shivangi made her way out the building, Marc long gone. Steven’s shift started before hers but they always managed to have lunch together.

“You’re quite fond of him aren’t you? Hm, I suppose human is good for you.” Shiva’s voice rattled in Shivangi’s head, giving her a slight scare. Luckily no one was in the book shop this early to witness her speaking to herself.

“He is a complicated man, my lord, but you and I both know how much I love puzzles.” Shivangi teased, and Shiva just laughed. This young girl who had become his avatar, his human form, was his daughter.

“Of course my dear. This path that awaits you both, it was inevitable that you’d cross. It was written in the stars, long before any of you were created.” Shiva informs Shivangi and she smiles, mindlessly arranging the flowers on the counter.

Their conversation ended shortly after and before the young woman knew, it was time for lunch.

“Going out with the handsome fella are you now dearie?” Maya, an older woman with grey hair starting to come in yet still living with a youthful soul asked Shivangi who simply blushed and nodded before noticing Marc waiting for her outside.

“Hi Marc.” Shivangi said soulfully, wrapping her arm in Marc’s as the two walked down and through the bustling city of London.

“Hi Sweetheart.” Marc responded, pulling Shivangi into him, wrapping his arm around her shoulder as they walked. While Steven was vegan, Marc was not.

“How’s your day been?” She asked, sitting down from across from him and Marc just looked at her. The way her red brown hair fell onto her shoulders and down her back, the way her kohl lined eyes made them look as if she was staring deep into your soul, reading each piece of you.

“As always. Donna banging in about things I could care less about. Putting on a fake accent and selling candy, with khonshu talking in my ear of course.” Marc rambled and Shivangi listened, looking at him with stars in her eyes, as if he plucked them and put them there himself. She laughed a laugh that made Marc want to drop everything he was doing and drown himself in it.

“How was your day so far?” Marc asked, taking a huge bite of his burrito.

“It was good, I arranged books and flowers and talked to Maya and Shiva about things. My day has been very slow so far.” Shivangi said, taking a bite of her own burrito. Their lunch was slow, Marc and Shivangi talked about useless things and Marc made her laugh, he wanted that sound to be the last thing he heard before he died. Unfortunately for them, time was never kind and lunch ended far before they’d like it to. It didn’t matter that they came to work together, ate together and left together, not seeing each other for just 8 hours a day was disappointing.

“I’ll see you at home?” Marc asked, dropping Shivangi off to work. The younger woman looked at him and nodded.

“You’ll see me at dinner Marc, like always.” She laughed, reaching around to give him a quick hug. Marc laughed with her, feeling a little embarrassed that he even asked her that question. He made his way back to work, the slight scent of sandalwood and jasmine sticking to his clothes, a reminder that Shivangi would be there with him always, whether it be physical or not, she would always be by his side.

A/n: This is like a year too late.

Tagging my loves: @shawty-writes-a-little @chchchcheni @jake-g-lockley @brekkers-desigirl @rantingsstuff @guzaarysh @imarvelatthestars @tocoi @idkwtfimdoing2