#Ancient Daze

[an-established-butt-dent]

The Veil is thin tonight-

-Can you feel it on your skin?

Tingling?

Ink and fineliner on paper

Available as Print

[punk-in-docs]

A song of rage and salty waves: part I

— Emperor Geta x reader (Salacia)

— 2.5k words

— Read all parts here: Part I — Part II — Part III — Part IV

Summary; You were raised outside of this Rome. Born into peace. To know of fathomless deep seas, and skies so big, they wrapped around your whole sight. The way that at night all you can smell are lemon trees kissed by salt. The jasmine plants wound around the white walls of the villa. Salacia. And now you are sent to Rome for your father in the Senate. There you will catch the attention of Geta; in all the wrong and darkest of ways— any reblog and comments are greatly appreciated 💙💙💙

TW!! some dub con/ threat/violence/basically forced marriage/forced smut situation/Geta is such a vile human being/Macrinus is villain sorry denzel ily

You’re imprisoned in Rome.

You certainly didn’t come here of your own free will. Your father had tugged you here from Corsica. Employed clever charm with letters and schemes from his high position in the senate.

As the role of your sex; you were born to obey.

He sent you imported silken stolas the colours of cornflowers or lazurite, with gold fibulae at the shoulders. Gem inlaid jewellery, rings to decorate every finger, and earrings the sway. A golden net for your hair. Wheedled you into coming to join him. Sending servants to travel with you and take heed of your every comfort.

He made sure you dined on plump fresh fruit. Seafood of lobsters and crabs. Drank wine so rich dark it looked black.

You despise it. The stone pillars and temples. And gods of old. Eyes watch you everywhere. See you. Follow you.The governing heat and noise and sweaty heaving mass of all forms of life.

You were raised outside of this Rome. Born into peace. To know of fathomless deep seas, and skies so big, they wrapped around your whole sight. The way that at night all you can smell are lemon trees kissed by salt. The jasmine plants wound around the white walls of the villa.

Salacia. The ocean nymph and the being of your name. Crowned with seaweed in your hair. Sea foam dripping off your fingers. Ripped from your home, an isle by the sea, at the whim of another.

Imprisoned here in this cold marble city. A fish out of water. Gasping dry on the shore.

Pulled inland and stolen away. You can’t hear gulls or waves anymore. It sickens you. Heart pangs that throb for home.

When you arrived, pulled back your folded palla down to your shoulders. He welcomed you with open arms and fondness. Wrists linked in gold cuffs. Tugged you to his chest and embraced you warmly. Hissed in your ear - abrasive like harsh sea spray - spies are everywhere.

He needed you close by. For reasons you had yet to fathom.

You dined like spoilt deity’s. Breads and wines, fish, fruits from far regions fattened by the suns heat, and succulent meat roasted in sweet cassia spices on a spit.

He had urns of flowers - picked by the servant - placed in every room. Lilies, juniper branches still bearing dark fruit, lavender, oleanders.

Companions join him and he is boastful of you. A nubile creature offered placement at a table of old muddled men. He introduces you to trusted friends and advisors in the senate.

One man in particular takes keen interest as to your recent arrival. His name was Macrinus. Man of information and resources. Dealt in cunning and cruelty though you found him sincerely charming. Your father watched you with a desperate eye.

Macrinus bore a smile so dazzling and blinding it made you dizzy; made think of the sun god. Apollo and his light cast across golden wheat fields. Notes of fine music. He sipped his wine slow, as he learned the flavour of your name. Where you came from. Understanding the rolling sea foam in your veins.

There’s a game to be held at the coliseum. He will have your father as his guest - and you by a very pretty extension. He nods at you; his eyes glimmer like pooled liquid gold in the half lit dark. It almost makes you feel safe.

They dine and drink into the small hours. Yet you slip away.

You watched this awful city out your window that night in your silk dress the colour of night time tidal waves. The air is stale. Carrion to you. Hot. Full of dust and sweat. Here, It smells like mulberry trees and a green garden waiting for blessed rain.

You couldn’t hear the sea. Or your sisters. Your mothers humming as she wove cloth and mended clothes. And you wept.

Salt found in your tears to be your only sacred comfort of home.

~

You are soft to this hard stone city. The coliseum is magnificent. As large as it is those who hold their powerful fists over its rule. Clutched in gold. Fine for the rich. Deadly for the slaves and warriors thrown into the pit at the whim of others. Met with carnivore teeth and sand and death.

The senators, generals, and the rich merchants watch from their perch, up among the gods they serve, presiding in shade and clothed in perfumed silks and jewels. Ladies and men both.

Your hair took hours to fasten in its current coiled style. Plaited and weaved. Your dress is the colour of the softest blue shore. Your servant lavished your arms and fingers in golden finery. A serpent cuff coiled around your arm. Skin draped in lemon oil because it’s the small piece of Corsica you carry here with you. Serenity to push against this place of gore, butchery and death.

You find yourself seated here amongst giants. Macrinus is seated one side. Your father the other. He fondly lays his hand across yours in gentle touch.

His palm is damp. Gold rings wet.

His face looks haggard with age. The lines by his eyes more prominent. Rome is poisoning him. The golden apple just a fingertip shy of his reach. St Bartholomew flayed and stripped of skin piece by piece. Schemes and plots lay thick in his mind like rot. Sweat beads down across his brow and the thinning salt pepper of his hair.

He says something to Macrinus that you’re too absorbed to hear. It’s low. Dragged through a growl. He appears unmoved, with a slow flick of his eyes to you. Watching this finery and loudness devour you. Your eyes so full wide and round. Salt and innocence entwined.

You all rise when the emperors pass by, Geta and Caracalla, who stride in, garbed in gold and cloaks. Come to take their rightful place at the mouth of the box where you are seated.

They are like twin suns to the Roman people. Lion gold hair kissed by fire. They burn and twist and shine with it. Make noises like gold coins that clack when they move. Strung in riches and golden crowns of olive leaves and branches.

Together they make you think of Romulus and Remus. Raised rabid by wolves. And they certainly make an impression. You’ve heard tale of the voracious nature of the blood sport they all but live for. Faces limned in the glory of gore.

The crowd cheers for them. They nod and wave but it appears barbed. The games begin with a wave of applause and a regal hand.

Caracalla twists and casts an eye in your direction. Seeing new meat.

The way you sit sedately and can’t cast your mind into the butchery and violence happening below. The clash of steel. The hollow squelching cries that proceed death. The spill of viscera and the scatter of brain matter from split heads.

Each new gash or split in skin made them smile. The taint of blood. Metallic sour. Spilling of offal and exposed bone.

He tilts his head like a clever wolf. Eyes darken. His sneer as terrible as a skulls. He leans across and whispers something to his brother with a knock of his arm to gain attention.

Another set of wolfish eyes join the first in hooking to your skin. Silly soft girl. Made of gentle sea breezes and lapping blue waves calm and soft enough to wade in. Pearl shining in moonlight. So watery and weak. So good. Untouchable.

Geta swept his gaze on you from head to toe. Appraising you hungrily through greedy eyes. The beauty of your figure in that soft folds of that stola. The gold that crushed your neck. Broaches at your fair shoulders. Hair glistening and finely arranged.

He liked the way you winced when another sword blow came. The pull of your brows and how you had to look away. He wanted you gathered up in his lap; fingers crushing your jaw as he turned your head; force you to watch as the men cleaved at each other and drew blood. Hacked off limbs. Laugh at your revulsion.

Looking at you sat there; He has an urge to take his dagger, slit that fine silk from your shoulders and bare your real beauty. Grab it off you and snatch your dress down. Spoil himself on your curves. Grab your breasts. He’s sure you’ve tits that even a goddess would envy. He’d reel you in by grabbing your ass that definitely needs a spank and some attention.

You’re even prettier than some of the finest whores he’s had grace his bed. They never kept his interest too long. Too entwined in filth and sin like him; you look pure as a vestal virgin.

He likes that. He wants to pluck it off you and spoil it.

You don’t dare meet his eyes. Of course you don’t. He’s an emperor. He could have you executed for looking at him wrongly. Instead; you wring your hands in your lap and squirm. Close your eyes tighter with every dying wail.

He turns back to the fight. As do you. A gasp flies from your mouth when you draw your eyes to one of the measly soldiers in the arena. Your father left his seat to stand, mouth gaping.

You saw the familiar arrangement of strong limbs. Garbed in warriors clothing. The way his arms shook holding a sword. Inexperienced and struggling. The fight was not fair. The same head of hair that matched your own.

Your oldest brother.

Macrinus grinned. “He’s not my finest fighter. But I wager he’ll be good sport.” He smirks.

Your father turned, cursed the gods, and exploded with venomous rage. Flew for the man with his fists. Grabbed his clothing. You tried to restrain the storm of his temper - but then you’d got that trait from somewhere hadn’t you? - an ocean thrashing wild and free. Terrifying in its rage.

“You promised me.” Your father roared. Spittle flying.

“I never promised to protect your traitor of a son. Let us see if the gods spare him. Yes?” Macrinus commented.

You couldn’t take your eyes from the pit. Nor could your father. He clutched to you like he could barely stand. Weakened and shrinking. Hand a vice on your shoulder. It burned like the sting of sun but you couldn’t shrug him off.

Your brother was meeting with an opponent far larger than he was. A Retiarius. Helmet, trident, dagger and a net.

Of which had currently knocked your brother to the blood dusted dirt. Spearing the trident deep into his thigh. Pinning him to earth like a bug. His cry of pain ringing out. Blood sheeted down one side of his head. His scream is the most horrible thing you’d ever heard.

You can’t help it. Where you’re stood, you cry out. It pours forth from you.

The Retiarius loomed over your bother like a terrible storm cloud. Looking up at the stands for direction. The whole audience cheered and screamed for more.

Geta stood up and the crowd bayed. He sneered at the sight before him. All the power of a god; crammed into a mortal man.

He raised his arm. And hesitated for a moment. Before he smirked. And pointed his thumb right up.

Death.

Your father wailed. The huge lumbering gladiator descended onto your brother. Flinging the net off and cutting his throat in one fast slice. Blood poured and pooled around lifeless eyes. Stained the sand.

Macrinus stood to his feet and clapped along with everyone else. The emperors’ laughed like hyenas at the sight. Blood and pain only made their smiles grow.

Before you knew what was happening, the palace guards had you and your father surrounded. Hands viced around your arms. Your shoulders. Your father too.

Traitor. He decried. A traitor in the senate. The tarpeian rock.

Just like his now dead son. People’s poised against the glory of Rome. Against Caracalla and Geta. Death to all.

Macrinus spoke harshly to the guards to release you. He backhanded you across your cheek. Your eye felt like it was going to burst. Cheek flamed with fire. Lip cut and bleeding down your chin from his ring.

He then wasted little time in digging his fingers into your finely done hair. Hauled you along screaming. Tears streaming.

Your father could only watch, limbs wrenching forwards in terror to help, as Macrinus marched you across the stands to where they sat.

He threw you to the ground like a feral animal. Tumbled you onto your knees. Skimmed your hands. As you squirmed and cried at your body twisted to his cruelty.

“Your majesties. I have personally uncovered a traitor in your court. Senator Aurelius. Not only was his first born placed in rebellion against Rome. But he himself has been sowing seeds of treason in your senate. I bring you his filthy kin as recompense…” He spat at the Emperors. Releasing your mussed hair to throw you to their feet.

They examined you as one would a creature. Nothing of humanity left. Devoid of any feeling. You crawled slowly to your elbows. Tried to claw away sobs. Raising up but not daring to look at them. You weren’t worthy. You feared them.

Geta was the one who rose slowly to his feet. Coming to stand before you. “We are most grateful for your revelation, Macrinus. You will be rewarded for such loyal service.” Though he spoke to him, his eyes never left you.

You father shouted and cried pleas. They go unheard. He snaps to the guards who hold him. “Silence that treacherous snake-“ he barks. They beat him into submission.

You stay cowering on the ground. In amongst the gritty dirt, and the blood like those slaves and gladiators. That’s how they saw you. That’s how much you were worth. Held in the same regard as the dirt on their shoes.

You feel a ring clad hand tip a finger under your chin. Blood dripping down onto that digit as he made you raise your head to look at him until your neck hurt.

“What is your name, pretty little traitor-“ He sneers. Because that is all you are. They’ve tarred and feathered you with the same brush.

You give it to him through tears that run freely. You give this awful golden haired emperor with dark lecherous eyes your name.

“Salacia.” You cry. Voice watery and cloaked in heavy salty sobs. Lips parted. So soft and pliable. Lovely and ripe and waiting for him. A gift from the gods-

He tilts his head down at you. Looking like some sun gold lion. Showing his canines in a cruel white smile.

“Imprison them. Both.” He smirks.

He thinks he may have them bring him your fathers head on a platter. Strangulation seemed too soft. Too forgiving. He had to make an example of you.

He had a particular way in mind for your fate. He watched you get led away crying as he sucked your sweet blood off his thumb.

You tasted like salt and sea foam

~

Tagging in the hopes this finds its way to the right people—

@indouloureux @trashmouth-richie @atabigail @lunatictardis @waywardrose @ceriseheaven @hillarymurray4 @lurkingprincess @ramona-thorns @joequinnswhore @iliveforotps @eddiesskittle @roosterisdaddy36 @rose-tinted @lluviamg06 @ravensfromvalhalla @fujiihime @youaremyfamiliar @captain-tch @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @svenyves @sammararaven @feralgoblinbabe @groupie-love-71 @andromeda-andromeda @morganamoonstone @gvtosbith @munsonswhore @shenevertricks1831 @hazzaismyreligion @harrys-titties @anaisweird @cinnamoncunt @red-lipstick-bisexual @wheels-of-despair @tvserie-s-world @callmeloverr @ho-for-joequinn-fics @bettyfrommars @rip-quizilla @songforeddiemunson @usedtobecooler @peachesandfiends @littlelioncub43 @heyndrix @babybluebex @blueywrites @joejoequinnquinn @cool-nick-miller @sheneedsrocknroll92 @rehfan @pedgito @dracomaledicte @gamingaquarius @mypoisonedvine @ddejavvu @sharp-and-swift @chaptersleftunwritten

[bluerosefox]

Dip and Kiss

.................

Am I the only one that thinks that in a ‘I accidentally killed the Joker!” story that Jason WOULD totally kiss the one (ether Danny or Jazz only if they’re around his age though) that did it once he’s over the shock.

Like no joke, he would full on twirl, dip and kiss the person who did it, before going to celebrate that clowns end and later returning with thank you flowers. Cause Jason is a dramatic man whose planning to full on woo his new personal hero.

[wheredostarsgowhenyoudie]

Ancient Love Poetry & The Last Immortal - connection post

Warning: Contains spoilers for the first series so skip post if you haven't watched it and do not want to be spoiled.

Ancient Love Poetry - Origin of Yuan Qi

Once upon a time, there were three realms - god realm, immortal realm and demon realm (no human realm yet).

In the god realm, the most respected are the four true gods - born from heaven and earth and are responsible for the peace of the three realms. Two of those true gods are Bai Jue (the god of fire) and Shanggu (the goddess of chaos). But destiny became their enemy when Shanggu had to make the sacrifice to save the world from the Tribulation of Chaos.

The god realm was destroyed and the human realm eventually came to be.

Broken hearted, Bai Jue spent tens of thousands of years collecting what was eft of Shanggu's soul. Eventually, Shanggu was born as Houchi, a goddess disrespected for her weak power (who unknowingly possesses Shanggu's sealed power and memory inside of her).

Now this part is the spoiler. Even if Shanggu is alive as Houchi, the Tribulation of Chaos is still meant to come to pass. Bai Jue, unwilling to see Shanggu die again, painfully endured dividing his original being into two for the purpose of possessing the power of chaos which would let him suffer the Tribulation of Chaos in replacement for Shanggu. One split created Bo Xuan who watched Houchi grow up, staying by her side, guiding and protecting her before disappearing one day. The second split is Qing Mu who fell in love unconditionally and eventually became Houchi's husband.

Qing Mu and Houchi's marriage and union is what led to Houchi's pregnancy. They fought for love even if they knew that their time together was limited. They had both long learned that they possess the true god's spirit inside them, and when the spirit awakens, they would disappear.

It happened that Qing Mu disappeared first, which led to Bai Jue's return. This Bai Jue acted that Qing Mu is no longer a part of him, deliberately hiding his love from Houchi and Yuan Qi. With enemies all around and with his power still weak, he pretended to abandon them, even going as far as to remarry just to give Houchi a push to forget him.

Secretly, he disguises himself to spend time with Yuan Qi, using the form of Feng Ran (Houchi's friend). He also secretly comes to watch over Houchi/Shanggu and Yuan Qi as they sleep. So Yuan Qi had been spending time with him without knowing it's his father who was with him.

All this is because Bai Jue had always intended to sacrifice himself in the Tribulation of Chaos and he knew there was no going back. He did not want Shanggu to experience the thousands of years of pain he had endured for losing his beloved.

So this cute kiddo is Yuan Qi from Ancient Love Poetry. Qi in his name means 'abandonment', a name given by his mother (Houchi who had no memory of Shanggu).

Yuan Qi's character is playful, smart, curious, bold, daring and cunning enough to be manipulative. But he also learns easily and is innocent with a pure heart. He likes to know how magic weapons came to be and likes disassembling them to study how they are built. He looks like his father but has his mother's temper. He has a strong sense of doing what is right, and would bravely apologize and make amends if he knows he's in the wrong. He also doesn't like it when the people around him are sad, so he tries to cheer them up.

He is the only child of true gods, and is considered the other true gods' nephew. He possesses the power of chaos (same as his mother). He is also very much spoiled. 😂💙

Before he sacrificed himself in the Tribulation of Chaos, Bai Jue finally visited Yuan Qi as himself. Yuan Qi was mad at him for his abandonment but he eventually gave in. They did the things that Yuan Qi loves (like spending time in the human realm, eating good food, gambling, playing with toys, etc). It surprised Yuan Qi how his father knows what he likes and perhaps (just maybe), he also realized then that the Feng Ran who did all those things with him was actually his father in disguise.

Bai Jue also tried to explain to Yuan Qi that death is something that comes to everyone. It is not something horrible, even if it's your own death or the death of someone you love. It's just like flowers blooming and drying. It hurts a lot at first, but the pain lessens with time. He told Yuan Qi that to sacrifice oneself for the ones one loves and for the world is a good thing. Yuan Qi listened to these but he didn't really understand it completely.

When Shanggu learned Bai Jue's true intentions and sacrifice, he was already dead. Shanggu knelt in front of the ancestral god for 500 yrs to plead for Bai Jue's return. At that time, they knew that a new god of fire is to be born and she is desperate to have it be Bai Jue. She was kneeling even when Yuan Qi bid her goodbye because it's been decided that he'd be taken as a disciple in Daze Mountain.

This kid Yuan Qi grew up to be this cute guy from The Last Immortal. They hid his true origin and gave him the name Gu Jin.

The willful spoiled kid grew up to be a righteous but still willful young man. Still innocent and forgiving. Still with a strong moral compass. Still brave and honorable enough to apologize and make up for his wrongdoings. Still caring for all beings in all realms and treats them equally. Still wishes his father had not left them. Kinder, and braver and even more honorable and just. He became exactly the guy that a water divine beast named A Yin would grow to love.

There is a lot more I want to say. But let's skip it for now.

But I made this post as I couldn't help it. Looking back on Ancient Love Poetry and having read Shen Yin, I finally have a deeper understanding of Yuan Qi and his choices.

In lots of ways, he truly resembles his father.

:)

P.S. Do pm if you want spoilers. I am literally bouncing from restraining myself and internally screaming. I wanna talk about the novel so bad hahahhaha.

[tosailuponthesea]

if you're a literal god and you can't prove your girlfriend innocent until her reincarnation shows up 1000 years later to do it for you, you're bad at your job

[nicelytousled]

eddie moodboard but it's just memes from 2012

[intriguingpeoplebyangelafloyd]

Rome, Italy

Daze with Jordan the Lion

Watch on YouTube

#ancientrome#dazewithjordanthelion#jordanthelion

[screampied]

‘ SAVE A HORSE, MILK A . . DEMON ?! ’

ᡴꪫ sum. who would’ve known the king of curses can lactate? not you and certainly not him. this is dire, he needs help but more importantly - he needs you.

warnings. fem! reader, heian era, vırgin sukuna, pùssy drunk sukuna, established relationship, unprotected, láctation (sukuna), we literally milk him, squırting, nıpple play, brēeding, brief ōral (f! receiving), premature ejac, overstim, praise.

wc. 5.7k

an. elaborating more on here. need him so bad

“you, c’mere,” you pause dead in your tracks, feeling a bit special that the sukuna ryomen, your worthy king was seeking out for you. his voice was loud, it rang through the walls of his kingly chambers before huffing out a single breath. he rests on his throne - bawled fist smushing into the edge of his cheek and he grumbles. “quickly, woman. close the door behind you.”

without replying, you do as you’re told. closing the old wooden doors, they shut with a bang. the demon’s eye twitches and he does a quick scan around his domain — empty, good. “are you okay, my lord?” you break the silence with glossed eyes, gazing how his body language was more awkward than normal. he lets out a blow, flushed face growing heated the second your mouth opens. crimson red eyes peer into you and his hair was a bit more ruffled - sukuna’s kimono was halfway on and he looked like he was burning up.

“what do you think?” he snarls, and he rolls his eyes before staring at the ground. “tch, anyways. i . . require your pathetic aid, brat. i don’t ask for anything but—”

“just tell me what’s wrong.”

with a abrupt scoff, he yanks off the silky woven fabric of his kimono - callused fingertips brushing against the material. your eyes ogle at the sight he’s showing you, his exposed body. you’ve seen him shirtless countless of times but this time, it was different. the second your eyes rover toward his swollen perky nipples, you see it. pearly remnants of white droplets seep from him and you hold back a sheepish snort.

“oh,” and you’re stunned, hearing him groan. although it didn’t sound like an irritated groan as usual—it sounded more pleasurable. sukuna buries his sharp fingertips into his thigh before you inch closer, softening your voice. “my lord. are you . . lactating?”

there’s a long pause—his chest huffs and his pink cheeks puff out. the more you laid your eyes on him, the more embarrassed he became.

the air surrounding the both of you suddenly felt hot, and with one of his hands, he tightens his grip against his throne’s armrest. “no, i don’t even know what this is,” he gruffs, and his breath hitches once you come closer to fully examine him. your eyes skim down every part of his body. with his kimono hanging onto him by a thread, it’s almost falling off his body. you gaze at his perfectly sculptured body. his muscles—you could stare all day if you really wanted. people would kill to be this close to the king, and yet here you were. his pecs seemed a bit tender from appearance and his entire body was sheeny, covered with a shiny coat of sweat. his ancient tattoo markings that paint his skin—they were glowing a bit too, glowing an almost crystalline color. “tch. stop starin’ at it. it’s creepin’ me out.”

“sorry,” you hum, but you don’t lose sight at all. you couldn’t. averting your eyes back toward the problem, as you spoke—each nipple was leaking with creamy substance. “um, so how long has this been happening, my lord?”

sukuna slumps back against his throne in exhaustion. he’s breaking an entire cold sweat and his mind was in a literal euphoric daze.

his entire body feels like it’s sweltering with heat, it’s purely indescribable. but it feels good.

it takes him a good seven seconds before he finally murmurs out a hoarse reply. “ugh, it maybe started about a hour ago,” and he pauses, gnawing down on his bottom lip. you watch and you couldn’t lie—seeing him like this, so vulnerable and desperate—it did something to you. you’re so used to a ruthless cold-hearted king, it’s like this current sukuna was an entire different person, an imposter. briefly, ruby-red eyes meet back toward you. “just make it stop. please.”

“what—” you murmur, and your wrist was gently pulled upon. you don’t pull away from his grasp and he leads your hand closer toward his chest. his entire abdomen, it was so warm. sukuna was burning up, and now that your fingertips were brushing up and down against his skin, he was even hotter.

“don’t say anything, woman,” he curses, shame tremoring underneath his husky tone.

sukuna ryōmen was embarrassed, and his awkward body language was a dead giveaway.

the past hour was absolute hell for him, ironic considering. you can hear him panting between broken sentences before he lightly squeezes your wrist. “touch me. i think physical touch might h- help,” he grunts a stammer, back pressing into his steel made throne. “i read somewhere that you might ease my um . . issue if you touch me.”

“you mean ease your lactating?” you tease, taking the opportunity to get right on his lap. at the second you do, his breath hitches. the audacity, your legs wrap around his slim torso before meeting his glossed gaze.

sukuna grimaces. “don’t call it that, brat,” sucking his teeth in annoyance, he rests back against his kingly seat, eyeing you cautiously. a few of his arms grab ahold of your waist, pulling you closer. his pecs tense up at the proximity of bodies closing the remaining distance. his nipples were even more swollen by this point, and you couldn’t help but stare—gawk at the uncanny sight right in front of you. “but yeah. just do something.”

with the demon right underneath you, you felt him shiver once you scoot up against his lap. tresses of pink spiked hair were unkempt, sticking to his forehead as he’s just bathing in his own sweat. this entire situation had him hot, but your touch was only going to make it so much worse. he swallows the circular lump that forms in his throat only to then grow quiet as he watched you lower your head toward his chiseled pecs.

he’s so toned, you spot a few prodding veins roam down each of his four arms—perfectly coating his body along with his scars and ancient notorious marks. sukuna’s entire body was a canvas that you didn’t mind exploring. his entire body was painted either markings, you just wanted to see more of him.

the inside of his royal chambers was quiet, deadly quiet.

so quiet that you could hear a pin drop.

“may i?” you murmur, using the padded print of your thumb to gingerly smear the dripping substance that leaks from his nipple. the way it poured out of him so effortlessly, it was so lewd.

you knew judging from his changing breath patterns that his pecs were where he was most sensitive. it wasn’t exactly rocket science.

although it’s the heian era—most would have took sukuna as a king who’s had his fair share of women. he has, but never anything intimate. he was secretly sensitive and shy, and furthermore, even touch alone was enough to get him off. with you though, he never minded your touch. it was his favorite.

“hmph. do your w- worst,” the demon grumbles, trying to have a bit of attitude but it’s clear he’s already wrapped around your pretty little finger.

he called you out of all his other servants and concubines for a reason. to him, he didn’t see you as either role, but rather just a human.

his human, maybe even his favorite.

at his bellowing comply, you bring your lips closer toward his chest. with hooded eyes—he ogles at the sight, his throne occasionally creaking at the moving pounds of weight that’s creating pressure.

as your head goes further into him, you do the least thing he’d expect. you latch your lips against his right nipple. sukuna lets off a throaty gasp, feeling your warm welcoming lips cling onto his pec with such ease.

“ugh, brat,” he groans, burying a few darkened nails into his left knee. it was tame—it was tame until your tongue decided to feature itself in, flicking slowly against his leaking nipple. you moan, fluttering your lashes shut as you savor the creamy taste that trickles its way into your mouth. “fuck, i said touch not s- suck.” and he finds himself pulling you closer, using a hand to cradle the back of your head. he’s never felt such a feeling. his pec was positioned right in your mouth and it felt so good.

you lean into his touch, sliding your twitching tongue in different directions purposely just to feel him squirm.

one of his arms drags you tighter, wrapping around your torso as you occupy your mouth.

the taste was sweet, it’s as if this entire thing was some sort of fantasy. of course—you had lots of questions, for starters—since when can demons lactate? rephrase that, since when can sukuna ryōmen lactate? but you were more of the ‘do first ask later’ type considering you were too busy to even ponder more of the thought.

sukuna bites his lip, feeling a strain in his boxers as he hears the occasional pops and slurrrrps of your mouth. “y- you’re fuckin’ nasty,” he huffs, but his voice cracks, butchering his once intimidating delivery entirely.

nasty but he didn’t want you to stop,

nasty but he felt himself getting hard the more you grind against his lap,

nasty but he’s holding back his needy bratty moans by biting his fangs down on his tongue.

sukuna purses his arched pink brows together into a frustrated furrow as his head tosses itself back. within seconds, you taste more of the candied flavor — it’s almost got a bit of a bittersweet honey taste to it. it sprinkles onto your sensitive taste buds and your eyes squeeze a bit, moving your head against each of his pecs to give them both equal amounts of attention. the demon’s nipples were even more red and swollen now, glimmering with your saliva dribbling from the centers. “hah, f- fuck,” he breathes, still maintaining a grip on the back of your head. you sit up to collect breaths yourself, licking your stained lips before he stares at you. his eyelids lower and he’s already whipped. “i— oh fuck.”

you raise a brow, opening your mouth to speak before you suddenly pause.

sukuna was quiet, too quiet.

with his kimono still half on, he’s practically shirtless. toned chiseled pecs stare at you right in the eye before you feel the heavy print of his dick directly underneath your shorts.

“my lord,” you sheepishly rub your neck, fingertips skimming against the few hairs that stand. there’s a certain wet spot that’s damp on the fabric of his lower clothing. your words were smooth, he could listen to you speak all day. with a smug smile curling against the corners of your lips, you throw your arms over his broad shoulders. “did you just . . cum?”

“nonsense,” sukuna denies you right away, the cutest grump of a pout stretching against his lips.

but, oh he did.

and it was a tough pill to swallow. sukuna, the sukuna who’s often known as his righteous title of being the king of curses, feared upon many, had just came. not only that, but he came from you sucking on his nipples. he came from the little problem he was currently having. out of all the enemies he’s beaten—this had to be the toughest one. he didn’t know how to deal with it nor did he know how to defeat it. the weakness was him.

and yet, that’s why he called you.

the feeling of your warm rotund lips attached to his nipples, he already missed it. it’s been seconds since you pried your mouth away and he missed it so bad. the way you sucked against his tender skin, your hot breaths fanning into his skin, making him even more hot.

sukuna was having withdrawals of you and your tongue slowly lapping up the excess ‘milk’ that dribbled out of each nipple.

this was crazy,

this is crazy.

he’s a demon for crying out loud—he’s never heard of demons doing such things. lactation. what even is lactation? sukuna knows such an activity was for women, not him.

but here he was, weak and panting like a dog, all for more of your beloved touch.

sukuna’s lying back, staring at you with docile blown irises—he’s at his worst, clammy hands never leaving the sides of your waist.

“fine. i . . came,” he murmurs in defeat, taking every spare second to gasp for air.

he’s drowning in sweat, probably drowning in his own heat too. with a pout continuing to compress across his lips, his voice lowers. but once you prepare to sit up, he lightly grabs your wrist. “fuck, don’t go yet,” he utters, knowing you did your part successfully in helping him. he hated how he was suddenly so weak, so dependent, so . . . submissive.

after all, you did help ease him a bit— although he was still begging for more.

it was as if some sort of sorcery spell was casted on him. this was a curse, yeah it had to be.

to sukuna, it couldn’t have been a more reasonable explanation. you peer at him as he speaks and he’s trying to find the exact right words without embarrassing himself. there’s a scowl that continues to marinate agaunst facial features before he sighs. “i- there’s somethin’ else,” he admits, hanging his head down in ignominy. he’s annoyed, sukuna groans at the words that were hanging onto his teeth—trying desperately not to slip them out but he can’t take it anymore.

he wants you.

he needs you.

“since you helped with my . . situation, it’s made me a little um—famished.”

you gulp, barely catching on to what he was implying—yet with a blink of an eye, you then find yourself arched over the arm of sukuna’s throne.

“i’m so fuckin’ starved,” he grunts, using a hand to caress the bare skin of your exposed flesh. serrated fingertips lightly graze against you as he feels everywhere that’s presented to him. the palm of his hand feels all up and down your curves, taking in your gorgeous physiques. he wanted to touch you. sukuna was horrible at expressing his feelings—yet he found himself humping his pillow at the thought of you. he didn’t know how to voice how bad he wanted you, but now that this moment was finally here, he couldn’t waste anymore time.

you’re so pretty, especially in such a erotic position. it seems as though a wave of clouded lust wafts in the air. sukuna tugs on the hem of your shorts, so needy to get a taste. he was dehydrated—but not for water.

“please,” a husky low voice pleads, groans and groans scratching out of his throat. you decide to tease him, wriggling your ass in the air right in front of his face before he hisses. “tsk. such a brat.”

“go ‘head.” you mumble, clinging onto the edge of the throne for support.

your positioning was a bit awkward but you made it work. you bury your head into your arms before he shifts—sitting up to prop himself right against you from behind.

sukuna wastes no time, dragging your shorts to your knees before scoffing at your laced panties. so soaked, his tongue eagerly licks against his lips as if it was natural animal instinct.

you weren’t just soaked, you were sopping.

he saw the dampened fabric and couldn’t help but lean in—placing his tongue right against the wet spot that formed. “ngh,” he purrs, and you feel the texture of his forked tongue tickle against your protected clit. you moan, biting back on your incoming words and growls before he gives your sloppy entrance a chaste kiss. “god, w- what’s wrong with me. i feel so hot.”

pathetically, he’s stammering out a bunch of words as he slowly laps his tongue against your sobbing cunt. sukuna grumbles in exasperation at how your panties got in the way of his ‘meal’ but literally forgot he had to actually pry take them off of you.

he was lazy though — so instead, he easily pulls them to the side to get a better and wetter view.

“so sloppy,” he snickers, admiring the way you’re dribbling with slick. it’s so ethereal, nothing like he’s ever seen before. a translucent tint colors down your drooling folds and you gasp once he starts to suck against your pussy. almost immediately, you throb right in his mouth and he feels the greeting pulse. “mhh—stay still, let me eat p-please.”

sukuna sounds so desperate—you don’t think you’ve ever heard your king beg.

he wasn’t begging for forgiveness, to cleanse sins, nothing of the sort. but alas, instead, he was just begging for pussy.

your pussy.

he couldn’t help it, especially when you tasted so good. your flavor was something he severely dreamt of devouring.

you might have just been his favorite for a reason. sukuna groans as his tongue maneuvers in multiple directions near your clit until he slurps vigorously against your tender labia. “fuck, m- my lord,” you whine, the stickiness between your thighs soaking more onto your skin.

you were dripping like a faucet, and it doesn’t take that long before his entire chin gets coated with your syrupy arousal.

it’s to no one’s surprise really, and he doesn’t even mind. he’s honored, lapping it up with his tongue before blowing his warm breath against your spiraling convulsing cunt. your breath continues to hitch and hitch as he dives his deeper. the button tip of his nose swipes back ‘n forth against your folds and you whimper.

he’s slurping you clean, through and through. sukuna’s got two wide hands to spread your ass apart more, delving his long pink tongue back and forth between your puffed entrance—you whimper out his regal title of his name and it falls off your tongue in such a sweet way every time. “y- your tongue’s so long, fuck. right there, don’t stoppp.”

but tasting you wasn’t enough - he wanted more.

strings of your webby slick entangle with his saliva as he suddenly departs his lips away. he’s gasping for air, swiping a tongue near your puckering hole before spitting right on it. a hand feels against your twitching cunt before he spanks it — his palm now coated with your slick.

you were sopping wet, and with how you just spurt on his hand, he wanted to make you wet even more.

it’s slow,

he watches with hooded eyes as your soddened entrance gets soaked and even more drenched. all from his hands and tongue. you could only imagine what he actually felt like from the inside.

“more,” was all he could moan out, and his pecs started to feel tender again.

his body was so strange—there’s a weird sensation that’s tingling in every part of him but it feels good.

you pout once he abruptly stops eating you out, only for him to flip you over. facing him and back on his lap, you’re met with the hungry eyes of a demon who wants more than just a taste.

he wants you.

with the help of his arms, he positions you upright on his lap again. you’re straddling him—but the difference was that you didn’t have any shorts on from before. “i- i want you to ride me, woman. can you do that?” and you can hear the faint plead in his voice—he looks desperate, he was breaking more sweats as each second passes.

“yeah,” you hum, cupping his face.

the demon surprisingly leans into his touch. the warmth of your palms made his heart stir into mush. a hand of his reaches down to play with the string of your panties that was shoved to the side but with quick reflexes—you grab his wrist. “nuh uh,” and he scowls, watching as you use your other hand to spring out his achy cock. “no touching just yet.”

he bares a fang at you. the nerve, if it was anyone else it’d be off with their head in an instant. but to sukuna, he found your teasing behavior to be quite . . cute.

of course, he’d rather perish than admit that thought to your face. just like how he secretly fantasizes about you but— he wants to keep at least some pride, even if it’s just a little.

“keh, you’re getting cocky, brat. remember your place,” he grouses, pink brows tugging amongst each other. his pout never left him and it only made him more adorable. sukuna’s eyes flicker down at your hand that’s now wrapped around his length. he swallows thickly, a breath of fresh air leaving from his full lungs. “hurry up. don’t got all da—”

“you talk too much,” you press your palm over his mouth, silencing the remaining of his sentence.

you’re met with a stone cold glare—but his vexed gaze gradually turns into a look of desired pleasure once you’re aligning yourself on his leaky tip.

his lips were so close to your palm - out of nowhere, you then feel his tongue lick against your hand. you refrain from giggling before feeling his angered tip slowly start to insert its way inside. the stretch, he’s so thick that your mouth drops open and you moan. he’s finally going inside—it’s better than he thought it would be. you’re so hot inside and it’s got his head spinning. gnawing on the skin of your lip, you let off a soft shaky whine. “fuck, you’re so big.”

he shakes his head, making you loosen your grip against his mouth before he boasts loudly. “heh, of course i’m big. you wouldn’t last a second with both of my cocks. i’d break you in hal— shit.”

he’s cut off by the rudeness of your cunt. you sink down on him and his tip poked a certain area inside of you that scratches your brain.

you bite back an incoming moan as your swollen cunt constricts around his length invitingly. his tip blushes inside—you reel into him, an attempt to steady yourself before already gasping for air.

the girthy stretch was immaculate, the base of his cock was tannish and already preparing itself to be milked. sukuna had a bit of a hooked curve. you felt it and you felt the stretch.

it was purely appetizing, almost drool worthy. just a few seconds in and he was already rearranging your insides. as you’re trying to start up a pace, you don’t know why but the thought of taking both of sukuna’s cocks made you a lot more wetter than you thought it would.

he’s mentioned it at least once or twice and you knew for a fact he probably would break you. there’s no probably, he really would. the demon was twice your size—alas anything was possible.

you lean in for a kiss and he instantly responds by returning the gesture. you taste so flavorsome and sweet - his tongue swirls against the lip gloss that paints on your mouth before he groans.

with lips moving in syncing tavern, you start to rock your hips a bit quicker.

the creaking of his throne gets louder until it’s just echoing, bouncing off the ancient walls of his chambers.

your cunt was just being ravaged by his hefty size, he’s just so big that you could barely even keep up your hips at first. sukuna’s hands—all of his hands roam over your body, clinging onto your hips and even a few feel near your chest. he gives your breasts a soft squeeze, a few thumbs toying with your perky nipples that poke out through the wooly-made blouse you were.

“f- fuuuck,” he swears between hot kisses, clawing a hand at your back.

as you rode him, his heartbeat starts to accelerate. you were a menace, rutting clashing hips gave him whiplash as the minutes pass. you were coating him in a mess of your own. sappy strings of your juices form into a saturated web with his own colorless mess that resides near his thickset base. you’re being so stretched. you cup his face once more whilst tongues fight and fight for dominance and tango together.

above him—you’re just a puddled mess.

sukuna couldn’t keep his hands off you no matter how hard he tried.

strained inhales escape out of him while he breaks away from kisses every few seconds. you were addicting - addictive.

his velvet red lips were all swollen and pursed up from your kisses and he’s desperately yearning for more of your syrupy forbidden taste. you were sweet, but your pulsating cunt was even sweeter.

with a quick piston of his hips, you felt your body jolt up. “hngh,” you gasp, wrapping your arms around his broad neck once more. from the neck down, his entire body was lathered with perspiration. sukuna was already feral, his hair was a mess and his fangs stuck out from his lips as he lies back. he hits every part of you so good, every single spot.

you’re struck in awe at how well his cock carves its way through your insides so perfectly, so thoroughly. it knows exactly where to go, never once missing the crevices of your pussy. despite having little to no experience—you could say he was definitely a quick learner. sukuna’s cock french kisses against your g-spot a plethora of times, creating a sloppy trail of them to send every part of your body butterflies. “ ‘m getting close, ‘kuna.”

“tsk. it’s still ‘my lord’ to you,” he corrects.

yet even though he’s trying to keep his cold façade - he’s failing miserably. sukuna’s bottom lip quivers as he cups your chin, hearing the filthy weeping squelches of your cunt grow louder. with each thrust, it gets more blaring to his ears and he groans at the tenderness he’s constantly feeling. “but ‘m gettin’ close too. so f- fuckin’ close.”

you hear how his voice shakes — his irises, they’re dilating from how you’re intently staring back.

but oh, he’s whipped.

a pair of hands grip onto your waist tightly, encouraging you to create more haste with your movements. your body swerves in swift arcs, feeling the sudden lock occur in your knees that’s buried into his thighs. he’s hitting you deep and he’s hitting you raw. you blabber out a few whimpers before slumping into his chest.

“fuck, fuck,” you sob out, reaching a hand down to spread two fingers against your pearled clit. you were throbbing, a sheath of your arousal then starts to cover his entire length the more you bounce. your folds were weeping as you grinded further against him. but as you’re chasing your incoming high, you lean in toward his pecs, taking one of his sensitive nipples into your mouth again.

and sukuna does the one thing you never thought he’d ever do.

he whimpers.

it sounds so pretty - so harmonic.

it’s like it happens on random—out of nowhere, he starts to lactate again. the familiar taste from earlier cascades down on your tongue and you suck a bit harder, moaning against his sensitive skin.

the jittery vibrations of your noises makes him groan, awkwardly ruffling your hair. “hah, g- good girl. milk me, that’s it. jus’ like that, keep going.”

and your hips slow down a bit so you can get a good angle. as you come to a brief stop, your body acclimates against him, but even still—you had a lot to get used to, especially with how well he stretched you out.

it’s pouring out a lot now, a bit of it starts to dribble down your chin and he just watches.

his cock twitches at the sight and you feel it from the inside. both bodies move rhythmically against each other and it feels like momentarily bliss.

your hand still has itself occupied between your thighs, playing with yourself to quicken your release.

it was right there, right at the tip of your tongue. sukuna moves a few strands of hair out of your face as you sucked against each pec. as he silently watches, if you squint you could see heart eyes forming in his pupils.

his nipples had so many nerves - so many nerves that he felt.

“god,” he curses, his thigh starting to bounce. you both were close, so so close.

sukuna feels his body temperature grow hotter the more your tongue whisks against each tender nub. it spills down the crevices of your lips. again, he’s just thinking how such a thing was even possible. you were so unapologetically messy too, he used a thumb to swipe the milky dripping substance away from the fissures of your plump lips.

you moaned, the stimulation of your cunt adequately sucking him dry continuously making you more and more aroused.

leisurely, an unpredictable wave of electricity prepares itself as you’re rutting into him on constant repeat. your unsteady rhythm had his jaw locked and he could barely utter out any final words at the moment because your pussy had him so utterly drunk.

the epitome of pussy drunk,

you finish first and it’s like you were shooting actual blanks.

your mind goes dimwitted as you’re gushing all over his cock, covering him in your obscene filth. “fuck, fuck,” you whimper out in a whine of individual babbles and doing so, your hips pick up again its recent speed. just for a moment. he groans at the skin against skin contact, throwing his head back and his adam’s apple bobs. it’s such a sight, you throbbed right between your legs.

sukuna crudely spanks your ass, his palm leaving a temporary sting before he squeezes it, admiring the precious recoil.

it takes you a second to realize you’re squirting. you were already dumb, but once you’re finally succumbing to pleasure, your mouth opens. “oh my goddd.” you elongate your moans, dragging out your sweet melodic words. your walls were preparing to wring him dry. from the inside—they cling onto him tight like velcro, you were attached and there was no pulling you off.

as you moan out your final vehement whines, you go back to sucking on his tender nipples and now . . . it was his turn.

“y’ jus’ squirt all over me ‘n ya still haven’t had enough,” he whews, his cock repeatedly and rigorously punctuating each single thrust. there’s a ringing in his ears, it’s loud and deafening. sukuna’s eyes grow droopy at the mere feeling and repetitive sounds of skin slap slap slapping every few seconds.

“ ‘m gonna cum—” and he pauses, gingerly pulling your head up so you can face him directly. your hips start to slow down again but it’s still got somewhat of a fair pace. with his bottom lip poking out, he’s still pouting visibly. “oi, brat. i- i can finish inside, huh? wanna fill you up. ‘m burnin’ up, fuck.”

you give him a nod, savoring his frosted taste that’s still remaining to drizzle onto your tongue.“mhm,” and as you’re still very much sensitive yourself, you slowly jerk back and forth despite how your pace wasn’t as fast as it was before.

“fuck, ‘m gonna give you so much,” he grunts, dewy lips mashing together as he spoke. he was so full and yet he had so much to give. sukuna feels himself grow inside you from each pump, he’s so thick that you’re just wholly tongue-tied.

the muscles in his abs tense and tighten before he grabs the fat of your ass with a single bare hand. “shit shit, take it all. take it all please.”

and at his feeble pulse, the moment finally comes where he shoots inside.

sukuna collapses back into his throne, bringing an arm hand toward himself to cover a broad hand over his face.

he grunts lowly into his palm and its sexy, his posture was so lazy and yet he was still so pent up. your limbs were just as limp as his, weak and defeated. a decent load of cum oozes into you raw and you gasp whilst his perky nipple was still in your mouth.

coincidentally enough, as he’s cumming—he ends up lactating at the same time too. more of his creamy substance pours onto your tongue while he’s pumping you full of satiny fresh ropes of sultry hot cum. it’s carnal.

you moan, losing yourself in such pungent nirvana as his taste suddenly turns sweeter.

sukuna was milked out entirely. he’s squeezing against your ass even tighter as he’s dumping such massive loads into your needy cunt. it was goopy—strings and strings of his cum tangle with your slick juices and you only imagined what it looked like up close. your hips moderately slow all the way until you’re just barely grinding against him now.

panting, you find yourself tracing the outline of his ancient tattoo markings with the tip of your finger.

your touch, by this point he was gonna cum again.

it’s a lot. actually, saying it was a lot was a bit of an understatement.

you don’t register how much he’s flooded into your pussy until you finally pry your mouth away from his chest, looking down at the impure sight.

so much, your entrance was filled to the very brim with such a nice amount, sweltering from the outside of your folds.

“you’re really sensitive,” you breathe, numbing thighs of your own gluing together against him. you didn’t want to move because it would spill out but it did anyway. a few wads of creamy ropes dribble down your swollen slit and you watch, scrapping a bit of it up with your thumb. “mmm,” you coo out, shoving and smearing the sticky strands of filth back inside. you felt so full, you don’t think you’ve ever felt more stuffed. the base of his cock was gummed with your slick along with a concoction of his own miry mess.

as you’re still trying to recollect breaths, you plant a kiss near the corner of his lips, watching it twitch at your touch. “my lord, you did so good. i didn’t think you’d cum from just getting milked.”

“s- sukuna,” he whines out his name as a form of correction. doing so, you lean into his touch once he cups your chin for the nth time.

his hold on you was always gentle—he’s got the most neediest look in his eyes, longing for you to continue to ‘aid’ him of his problem.

you worn him out— not only that but you milked him for all he was worth and yet he was still cumming.

“jus’ call me sukuna,” and your heart flutters at the sudden privilege. you’re still straddling him, keeping his cock warm before he leans in for a kiss.

you thought it was a kiss but instead, he inches his face toward your chin before lolling out his long forked tongue, licking the remaining excess milk that was running down your chin from earlier. “call me sukuna, mistress . . please.”

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Werewolf Headcanons

I've been stalked by the guilty feeling that my Romanian Werewolf boy got a lot of backstory but not much romance or interaction. So there you have it: some headcanons featuring the ancient Beast, a post-kidnapping sequel.

Content: female reader, obsessive behavior, monster romance, mild NSFW at the end, ridiculously older yandere

You followed the gargantuan stranger back into the city, leaving the bloodbath behind as if it was just a distant dream. Admittedly, you’d expected to be dragged into some mountainous cave or an abandoned mansion, not the cozy - albeit a little dusty - apartment on a main, historical street. On second thought, he did function as a human outside of his monstrous escapades, so it made sense. “Is this your place?”, you sheepishly asked while he wiped the thick layers of blood off him. “One of them, yes”, he answered curtly. “It’s central”, you remarked, trying to make conversation. “Well, I didn’t know about it back then. It’s been a few decades.”

Your ears perked up at the words. Gazing at his features, he didn’t seem necessarily aged to you. The deep creases contouring his face felt more like a sign that he’s lived sorrows beyond most people’s comprehension. “How old are you?” You finally asked as curiosity replaced your initial fear. He abruptly stopped his movements and leaned back, brows furrowed in deep contemplation. “I’m not so sure anymore. I was born in the 80s”, he concluded. “That’s not too far back, is it?” You inquired, this time more relaxed. “80 BC, I meant. You do the math.”

He freshened himself up as you counted the millennia on your fingers, frowning in confusion. He chuckled at your intense focus, then quickly looked up into the mirror. When was the last time he smiled like this? The reflection was a foreign sight to him. “We’ll get you everything you need tomorrow”, he continued, still in a daze. What a strange idea, having someone to speak to after an eternity. And suddenly, it occurred to him just how rusted his communication had gotten: “I’m so sorry, I haven’t asked for your name once”, he said, embarrassed. “It’s (Y/N). And you are...?" Might as well introduce yourself to your benevolent captor.

The dreaded question. How did they call him back in the day? He hasn't had anyone spell it out for him, nor did he feel the need at any point to say it himself. Why would he? He hadn't anticipated meeting you. With pursed lips, he searched his mind. Eventually, from the depths or memories, from days of yore, it made its way back: "Daos."

Given your first gory encounter (where he quite literally murdered everyone else), you were surprised to find out he's otherwise a calm and polite individual. Well, he's had centuries to mature, you suppose. You've also noticed he has that rather old-fashioned chivalry to him. He's very attentive despite his stoic demeanor, and often follows with acts of service.

"You're insulting me. I can carry this myself with ease", you'll argue. "I never doubted you can. Nonetheless, it is my wish to do it for you."

As the days pass, your reluctance seems to vanish as well. In fact, you've become particularly cheeky, encouraged by his warm, unperturbed behavior. Maybe you haven't gotten the worst deal out there, after all.

"You know, you talk like an old man", you've teased him once. He was visibly taken aback by your statement, and you could discern a faint blush on his face. "Do I? My apologies, I haven't spoken to anyone in a long time. I'm not familiar with modern speech. Have I embarrassed you somehow?"

He spends his free time reading, though he will frequently take you on walks. It's an interesting affair to say the least. You can feel the curious eyes of the passersby and hear their not-so-discreet whispered gossip. You can't truly blame them: Daos is enormous even as a human. He towers above everyone else with his imposing appearance. To match, his voice is deep and coarse as a result of not using it much until recently.

The ancient werewolf is a living history book. If asked, he will narrate to you important events or details you might be curious about regarding his culture. Once, when he'd been in a good mood, he even shared fragments of his life before turning into a creature. He'd been a high-ranked Dacian warrior, spending his days training or fighting. He still remembers the flag he carried with bitter fondness, yet another irony to his fate: a wolf-headed serpent. It was meant to showcase their way of life; barbarians with no fear of death. They'd greeted the Roman Empire with nothing but a sword and a shield, no shred of doubt.

He might've been betrayed by his people, but the pride remains. The pride of a soldier who's never known defeat. You learned quickly that his beastly form doesn't count as a significant change by any means, save for appearances. The man has brute strength even as a human. You'd once strayed from his view, and a stranger approached with a daring whistle, gawking you up and down. Before you could react, Daos clawed him by the throat. You heard the twist of the skin and the creak of the bones giving in to the immense pressure of his large hand.

"It's the second time I have exposed you to such unpleasant sights", he said, discarding the body as if it was any other garbage. "Forgive me, but I will not have you disrespected like this."

He is very much aware he's taken you away from the world out of his own selfish desire. The fact that you accepted it is more than he could ever ask for. That's what he keeps telling himself, even as his eyes wander to your lips whenever you speak. Or as his hand lingers a moment too long against the curve of your back. Or as he hungrily takes in your scent whenever you're nearby.

He might be unhealthily possessive of you, but Daos will never do anything against your will. No matter how obvious his urges are. In fact, no amount of flirting or teasing will shake his resolve. You will have to be very direct with your approval.

Once the reality settles in, he'll become extremely affectionate, bordering on obsessive. To think he could have you in every way possible. Oh, he's waited thousands of years for you. All the suffering, the loneliness, the anger, they're stripped of any meaning now that he has you.

The city strolls at an awkward distance have since become a habitual excuse to hold your hand and show you off to the mortals. The quiet evenings of passing time with a book now include your merely noticeable weight cuddled into his lap. You didn't expect him to be this adoring. Being touch-starved for millennia counts as one reason, naturally, but there's more to it, so much more. And it all leads back to you.

He is a little taken aback when you ask him to do the deed in his werewolf form. "Don't be foolish. I can't overcome my instincts as well when I'm a creature. I could harm you", he'll lecture you. "Besides, you can barely take it as it currently is", he'll add, smirking at your baffled expression. It seems he's picked up on your cheekiness.

After a lot of pleading and waiting for the right moment - when he's ravaging you in a daze - he finally agrees. True to his word, his tune instantly changes. The tender hold turns into a desperate grasp sinking into your skin, and the thrusts become irregular, almost frantic. His drool cools your burning cheeks as you hold onto the coarse fur, feverish and overwhelmed.

His golden eyes rest on the small human squirming underneath him, and suddenly, he can't help but notice: you have the perfect birthing hips.

[yandere-romanticaa]

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐄!, who cannot help but to feel excited whenever he sees you flustered. It gets him going, seeing the ire bloom in your eyes as a sharp grin forms on his face. Even from the corner of your eye, you can see the way his crooked nose inhales the crisp air around him, as if he's ready to snort.

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐄!, who started to give you hints of his presence long before he spirited you away deep into his realm. They were all small things at first, things so seemingly insignificant to the untrained human eye that no sane person could ever fault you for falling for the atrocious pranks. He took great pleasure in stealing all of your jewelry and comparing it to his own. He had vaults of precious gems, diamonds, deep sea pearls, precious golds and silvers right at his disposal and this is what you are picking?

He cannot help but to snidely judge. He can treat you so much better than this.

Mortals are so odd.

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐄!, who listens in absolute bewilderment at the sheer idiocy the human race believes in, which unfortunately, also includes you. The company you keep is far from desirable, making the ancient fae wonder what is the exact state of your feeble little mind.

He also is a little charmed by it. There is this simplistic beauty about it, an allure which he cannot pinpoint for the life of him. Although, the fact thtat is not required to think too crudely is a massive bonus to him as well. Even mortals know not to trust fae, much less actual fae themselves. Each new dawn represents a new challenge to conquer, a new spell to cast or decipher and, honestly, it gets tiring.

It makes him realize why so many of his brothers and sisters keep so many humans close. The delightful purity is addicting, much like sweet wine - once you have a sip, it's game over. Nothing else will satiate the endless thirst.

However, 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐄! does not necessarily wish to keep you chained on a leash for all eternity. He plans to do so until you begin to understand the ways of fae society although, deep down, he cannot help but to fantasize on what it would be like to gift you your own pair of shimmering wings. The thought keeps him awake for what feels like ages, his mind going back and forth on whether or not he should erase your humanity and create you anew.

The stars in the sky are taunting him as he turns his head towards the balcony, the bright glimmers in the sky mocking him for his indecisiveness. He, an immortal being is this dazed by a meager little human, who could perish at the snap of his fingers.

It's all just positively dreadful.

[moyazaika]

indulgence.

m! yandere x gn! reader / nsfw; shadows, phantom limbs, tongues, a degree of infantilisation. stalking && obsessive thoughts. ( mdni. )

beware; for here there be monsters, and this one is hungry.

“oh, there you are, sweetheart,” he drawls, and you feel something wet and slithering against the hollow of your throat, over the drool on your slack jaw and right up to your swollen lips, which part for him in silent submission. “you taste delicious. far sweeter than any cloying nectar.”

“i think i might just…” your back arches against the soft tablecloth he has you laid over, flushed skin slotting up right against an abyss; shivering against the yawning chasm of his own body (could you call it that?) which threatens to devour you whole. through the darkness, you can make out the shape of a man barely-there. pathetic glimpses of the features of your generous host.

“yes…” two more tongues, you miraculously manage to count through the daze of your poor, confused mind—squirming helplessly under the wet muscle as it licks the tears that well up in your eyes, whilst simultaneously lingering at your belly button, moving lower and lower—a hum, “i think i might just eat you from the inside out.”

“ah!” your hips buckle. it’s something cold, and slimy. invasive in its nature, as it slips over and under your slick skin, pulsing with need. “please, please, please.” the string of pathetic pleas leaves your bruised lips like a chant. “please, please!”

and your host, who had let you in so graciously when you showed up at the door of his crumbling manor, lost and in need of shelter, has always been nothing but generous. phantom lips brush against the shell of your ear, as he promises to take such good care of a sweet, lovely, needy human like you—

“sing for me, songbird.”

—and, you do.

the loveliest little sounds just for him, for the cold, wispy touch that digs into the plush of your thighs, holds down your arms so you’re rendered completely helpless to him (it, you remind yourself. this is no mere man) as he paws at your heaving chest, kneading and pulling and pinching. a sort of detached awe. fascination for how humans can be so soft and pliable.

“how utterly adorable.” unblinking eyes look down at you, truly a feast the way you’re laid down on his expansive dining table like one. an unwavering gaze through long, dark lashes, against impossibly cold skin. “you’re so helpless, spread out like this on my table. you should know you’re also incredibly lucky, sweetness.”

“oh, so very lucky,” he grins, flickering before your eyes, shadows lurking beneath the stolen skin that’s wrapped over weary, ancient bones. those lips of his, curling into a crooked grin. “that i only want to take good care of my little human guest. lucky—” you gasp when his nails, sharper than they were only a second ago, scrape and claw and dig into the most sensitive parts of your quivering body. “—that i’m not some big. bad. monster.”

the simulacrum of a man—his facade falls apart at the seams as he has you coming on fingers and tongues with no solid state; shadows that leave you gasping through the wisps that tickle your sensitive skin, against a hand, the lithe shadowy digits willing (eager, even) to pull you past the brink you’ve been teetering on for the past hour; an act of mercy, that has you twitching in all the right places—and coming, with a long, petulant whine, incredibly and completely undone over the palms of his cold, cold hands.

“yes; you’re quite lucky,” he hums pleasantly, when the cold shadows curl against your ankles only mere minutes later, to pull them over his broad shoulders; now solid, like the sharp, greedy teeth that sink into the swell of your chest. his eyes flicker to meet yours, as he bites down. “that i love you.”

†

hours later, when you make to leave, thanking him profusely for his generosity, for allowing you a safe place to stay and… taking such good care of you; a lost traveller, in more ways than one; you fail to notice something important.

it comes as no surprise to your host, of course. you’re too soft to be left to your own devices. too sweet and darling.

it doesn’t dawn on you that your shadow is missing.

even as the sun sets, casting you in its dying glow, there is no trace of the shape of your constant silhouette that should be projected onto the forest floor. no mark of your existence, against the marvellous red sunset.

instead, your shadow is entirely separate. no longer attached to you, it follows behind instead, curling around the thick trunks of trees and slinking across the mossy forest floor; following close behind you, stepping right into every step you take, but never quite passing by; and when you find yourself lost, inevitably, it will return back to the crumbling manor you were in only hours before.

it will phase right through the main grand doors and the walls with their old, cracked paint; right besides the being who ordered it to follow you in the first place. a pleased smile on familiar lips, when he’s told the news, rejoicing in the act of ignorance; like he didn’t already know your exact whereabouts in his own domain, “oh, is my little human lost again?”

“very well,” he’ll make a show of sighing, though there is no attempt to mask the glee in his gleaming eyes. “i suppose i’ll have to find them, again. hm, it looks like i shouldn’t have let my pretty songbird fly away so soon.”

rest assured, he doesn’t intend to make the same mistake twice.

he’ll pull on a coat, then. not because he needs it, but because he’ll drape it over your shaking shoulders when he stumbles upon you, once again, ‘completely by chance.’ sweet, helpless thing like you, clinging to him in the darkness of the forest.

he descends the steps of his crumbling manor, shadows parting with every step he takes, a darkness swirling restlessly underneath cold, taut skin. he whistles a merry tune, itching to get all of his hands and tongues all over you again; driven by an insatiable hunger.

and this time, when he finds you (and he will; for there is no way you can outrun your own shadow) he intends to have his fill.

he will gorge himself, like a man long starved, on the feast that you are. oh, you’ll be dribbling down his chin and smeared all over his jaw as he works to drink you dry, and he’ll lick up every last drop. this time, the abyss doesn’t intend to let you go. you will stare into the yawning darkness and lose yourself, just as he has lost himself in you.

humans are often told not to play with their food, he recalls—

—it is a lovely thing, then, he supposes, that he was never human.

[enhypencores]

Feed

Ni-ki X Y/N

Genre: Romance/Angst/ Fluff/ Hurt-comfort

Word Count: 4K+

Warning: suggestive, slightly angsty

Synopsis: relentless schedule and physical distance from his girlfriend has already strained his nerves. But when Ni-ki finally reunites with you after a long month, he is met with useless nagging instead of affection, pushing him over the edge. The harsh words he utters in the heat of the moment may cause severe consequences.

Or

where a childish argument sparks up your silent treatment and a clingy—jealous ni-ki will do anything for your forgiveness.

idol niki x culinary student y/n

The room, seemingly more like the inside of a coffin, dwells in darkness and reeks of ancient pizza, boxes scattered on the dust-covered floor as evidence. You can barely walk without stepping against something grimy and viscous trickling down your bare feet as if protesting against your invasion.

It’s not like you want to proceed inside this filthy den where the air is thick with the stench of rotting food but unfortunate for you, you happen to have a boyfriend who lives in this atrocious environment. Your eyes catch the faint light of his small device in the bleak darkness, and you sigh in frustration as you finally manage to make it to his bed after dodging lumps of dirt, food and empty cola bottles.

He’s rolled over on his stomach with his back to you, a Nintendo switch in his grasp as he’s fully immersed in the game, vigorously pressing his thumb on the buttons.

Your heart almost softens at the sight, but you’re soon reminded of your surroundings as you feel the wetness pooling at the edge of his bed. Your fists clench in frustration, and you reach out to grab his blanket, flinging it off.

Brows knitting up, he turns, preparing to spew insults, assuming Jake has returned to steal more of his clothes. His jaw clenches shut, eyes widening in disbelief as he sees beautiful eyes blink down at him. He almost knocks himself off the bed, blinking in a daze. His lips curve up, a familiar warmth grazing his previously scowling expression.

“Baby?” Ni-ki rasps. Contrasting from his sharp gaze, his gentle tone which he only uses to address you, sparks butterflies in your stomach.

He doesn’t notice the scowl contorting your features— maybe too excited about seeing you after a distraught month as he sits up on his knees and yanks you down in his arms. Your chest tingles at the familiar warmth as his scent washes over you.

Despite the absolute disaster of a room, Ni-ki smells of soap and faint cologne, his damp hair brushing against your cheeks as he holds you tight against his chest. You know he only applies hygienic efforts to himself and not his surroundings.

You want to melt into his embrace and cling to his frame, but the surrounding wreckage snaps you out of it. You push at his shoulders, forcing him away to stand upright.

Now, even the darkness doesn’t hide the absolute disappointment written across your features as you stare down at him. “I come to see you, thinking, finally, I’ll spend one free night with my boyfriend watching a movie, but you’re here snacking and playing video games,” you pointedly accuse, your gaze narrowed in anger.

Ni-ki winces, used to your gentle and sweet tone. Uncomfortable, he straightens up, and you hear his scapula release a crack as if crying in relief. Your anger flares up more at the sound.

“Have you hibernated since the tour? Jungwon and Sunoo said they haven’t even seen you in days and they literally live here.” You fold your arms over your chest, aggravated.

Ni-ki breathes harder through his nose as he stands up, grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers. Yellow streaks gleam in the brown moss of hair, his gaze running over your face in silence. He hasn’t seen you in weeks, and the urge to drown you in hugs and kisses overrides your infuriated words.

“I missed you— come’re.” He tries to tug you close, but you block his embrace, turning away and trudging through the mess to flicker the lights on.

The abrupt flash of fluorescents makes Ni-ki squint, his lips pressing together and jaw tightening. You settle your eyes on Ni-ki.

Dressed in a grey hoodie and sweatpants, he appears incredibly frail and thin, jawline contorting as he watches you with narrowed eyes. You can’t help but grimace as you notice the eye bags weighing down his face.

Your gaze softens. He looks unhealthily thin and pale. Suddenly, you want to cook him his favourite yakitori, rice, miso soup and teriyaki sashimi.

Truthfully, you loved cooking for your boyfriend. Despite being tired after training, you always made sure to feed him since he called it the best Japanese cuisine, sprinkling in a ‘better than my mother but don’t tell her’ which always made you laugh.

As soon as his vision accommodates, he feels his heart stutter. You’re a sight for sore eyes, bangs falling against your fluttering lashes, plump lips downturned, and brows arched pointedly. Even when you’re irritated, you’re the prettiest.

Ni-ki begins to approach you, making sure to steer clear of the cans of energy drinks loitering on the floor.

“Stay where you are,” you huff as your gaze roams the expanse.

Now, you can clearly see the pizza boxes, tissues and ketchup packs scattered on the floor; clothes and baseball caps that should’ve been in the laundry basket ages ago balled up in the corner of his room; PlayStation wires hanging down the television trailing across the centre, looping over the listless cola bottles.

“Ni-ki, this room is a disaster. Clean it up,” you command, your voice firm and unwavering.

His smile falters, fists clenching as he feels fury bubble up his throat.

After getting done with the hectic tour, Enhypen is finally awarded a break from activities— a two-week long break before he is pulled back into long practice sessions which last till night passes into dawn, till his muscles cry out in torment, till his body craves nothing but the softness of your curves. But of course, you had a job— much like him, and despite his desire to get you to himself, he knows you are a social butterfly, and your heart belongs in the culinary world. He hates this capitalist society and despises your company and his own for overworking you both.

Late-night calls and once-a-week encounters are his only getaway from the draining schedule.

But even these once-a-week encounters when he can recharge are now infected with your anger.

“Can’t you at least greet me with a kiss like a nice girlfriend before turning into my mother?” He snaps, glaring daggers as he watches you grab a few of his jackets from the floor to fold.

You roll your eyes, leaning down to pick up more of his clothes, folding them keenly before setting them on the edge of his bedding.

“I’m heading out to cook. Clean this place up,” you ignore his tantrums, speaking firmly before shifting away to leave.

As he watches you turn away, he feels his blood pressure rise, head pounding in disbelief at the sheer audacity of your actions.

You come to him after what seems like forever, and still, your love for him is less than your love for the arts. He’s certain even if you reunited with him after years, you’d prioritise your passions and leave him to master some fucking expensive caviar recipe you learned from a Russian chef in culinary school.

“Y/N, get back here right now,” he speaks through gritted teeth, and you pause in your tracks, taken aback by the sudden bitterness.

Chest heaving, he approaches you, heat pumping through his pale skin, painting his face red.

Closer than ever, he towers over you, making you feel so small. His eyes are narrower, sharp as a blade, cutting through you as he stares down. For a moment, you think he’ll knock you to the ground, but you see him shake his head, waves of fury coursing through his frame.

“Do you ever fucking miss me?” He utters with so much venom that he shakes with the bitterness of it.

You wince. Your lips part in horror. You want to say something, but the words have dissolved on your tongue.

He waits for a moment and then cracks a smile that doesn’t meet his eyes, running fingers through his strands in a frenzy. “Of course, you don’t. Ten days or ten months, why would you care?” He sarcastically rasps. His words reverberate against the walls and slice through you.

Pure rage fuels through your veins, and you edge closer. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I finished up all my training to hurry to you, but I see you holed up in this stinky dorm room playing video games—” You choke up.

“Don’t show up then!” He shrieks with resolution, eyes widening purposefully. He turns away and kicks at the pile of bottles blocking his path, unleashing his wrath on the inanimate objects. “Get out! Leave me to rot in this stinky dorm!”

The room immediately goes eerily silent.

Except Ni-ki hears the shill thumping of a pulse above his ear, indicating an incoming migraine. His body feels like it’ll burst with how tumultuously the anger and frustration bubble inside his blood. He can feel the heat shoot through his arteries and collect at the back of his pupils. Distressed, he shuts his eyes and rubs a hand down his face as the ache begins to pound within his entire head.

And then, the walls mock him, reverberating the words spewed out of his mouth just a second ago. Like someone’s toppled a bucket of ice over his head, his breath hitches with realisation. He whips around, intending to fall to his knees and kiss your feet for forgiveness.

His jaw tightens.

He meets your absence.

In a fit of rage, he didn’t see your face crumble, lips tremble; he didn’t hear the sniffle and shuffling as you walked out— away from him.

He can count the times he’s unleashed his anger upon you on a single hand. Usually, he holds back, knowing that whatever was to come out in a fit of rage was absolute bullshit.

“Don’t show up then!”

“Get out! Leave me to rot in this stinky dorm!” 

He groans, fisting his hair in disbelief. How dare he use such words towards you? Ni-ki fumes and curses himself. He begins to frantically pace when he stumbles against the empty boxes and cans piling up. Suddenly, he feels the urge to throw himself off the Han River.

Of fucking course, you’re right.

It looks like a bunch of apes ransacked his room, dirt and clothes scattered with food and soft drinks spilt on the grimy floor. This isn’t liveable. How did he spend weeks cooped up in this nightmare— he’ll never know.

Ni-ki determinedly leans over and collects the clothing items, hanging his jackets on the rack while folding his shirts and jerseys to keep in a neat pile. He grabs a pack of tissues, dampens them from the bathroom sink and uses it to scrub off the dried juices from the floor.

While gathering the pizza boxes and tissues, he discovers Jake’s long-lost tie under his bed. He grabs the vacuum cleaner from his storage closet, plugs it in and runs it over the remaining crumbs and dust. The machine’s groaning only further riles up his migraine, pinching the nerves in torment; however, Ni-ki is determined to make this place spotless— worthy of your presence.

Two heads poke out from behind the door, lured by the blaring sounds of the machine. Sunoo’s eyes widen, and Jake’s jaw drops at the sight.

“Do you see what I see?” Jake whispers, scared the fantasy would shatter if he spoke any louder, staring in a daze, watching as the younger boy lay on his stomach to push the vacuum under the bed till it scraped the other end.

“Nishimura Ri-ki cleaning? I see it,” Sunoo confirms, blinking rapidly.

“Hell, this must be the end of the world,” another surprised voice joins the duo, and Jake and Sunoo look up, confused at the third intrusion. Heeseung stands towering behind Sunoo’s head, peaking inside with wonder.

Ni-ki simply ignores them, extra concerned with scrubbing the place clean to quickly find his way to you. Gradually, the lair becomes a civilised room with breathable air. Ni-ki lights up your favourite vanilla-scented candles and inhales deeply, observing the expanse.

Primarily, his room was pretty sleek with a tenebrous elegancy, grey curtains, light-toned carpet and a chic black couch custom-made from Japan, all chosen to his liking. The side table carries some figurines and a pile of his favourite manga collections. In the second drawer, he likes to store hair ties, skincare products, and plushies so he can convince you to have a sleepover every time you visit. Even his wardrobe lingers with your presence. Once, when Ni-ki caught Jake wearing a hoodie that still smelled of you, he pounced on him and ripped it off the petrified Australian. From then on, Ni-ki forbade any member from touching his things. For extra precaution, he still separated specific items you liked, sparing a section to all his hoodies you wore.

Ni-ki runs a hand over his messy hair, patting down his pants and hoodie for any dust before heading out of his room.

The hallway is now perturbingly empty, and the adjacent doors to his room are shut. Ni-ki hastens inside Sunoo’s room, usually finding you seated and binging shows. Instead, he discovers Sunoo on his PC, watching some romantic anime. He dashes off and checks Jake and Heeseung’s room, but you’re nowhere to be found.

A surge of panic courses through him, thinking you’ve really left. He hastens down the hallway, stopping to check the guest bathroom (also empty) and dashing down the stairs.

As he hurries down the last step, his frantic gaze roams the expanse before pausing at the open kitchen. He freezes, his foot hanging over the previous step. His heart swells with relief.

Thank fuck, you’re exactly where you belong—right before his eyes.

With denim sleeves rolled up and hair clipped in a messy bun, you’re immersed in stirring the pot, looking absolutely ethereal in your element. Ni-ki’s breath stutters as he admires you in your own little world.

When you stepped into a kitchen, no amount of distractions could shift your focus. It was one of the things he loved about you: putting a little of your heart into everything you do. But it was also something he disliked about you. If everything in the world takes a little of your heart, what’s left for him?

He gulps down the burning sensation, reminding himself of his earlier stupidity. He kicked you out of his room.

God, he wants to smack himself so badly.

Carefully, Ni-ki takes calculated steps towards the kitchen. And like he predicts, you don’t notice, too consumed by whatever was in the pan. He sneaks up from behind and stands beside you, purposefully brushing his shoulder with yours to make you wary of his presence.

You freeze and spare him a glance. And then he notices the immediate grimace and frown weighing down your beautiful face. His heart drops further into his stomach as you look away, attending to your recipe.

He nibbles on his lower lip. He suddenly feels nervous. His palms itch, and his chest tightens with discomfort. His gaze lingers on your face, yearning for your attention. He internally begs for you to speak— shout— maybe even curse him out. You don’t do any such thing.

Instead, you wash the rice and toss some diced green vegetables in the pan with chicken bits, stir-frying it together. He leans forward, sniffing the steaming chicken, gulping down the tightness in his throat.

He finds his voice. “Teriyaki stir fry— for me?” He tries to sound optimistic, but his voice is weak with tension. His pretence is crystal clear.

Silence. Pin drop- deafening silence. It’s supposed to be good for his migraine, but your silence just makes the throbbing sensation concentrate even more, so much so that he feels a gruesome pain stir up in his neck.

His frustration mounts as he sees you turn away to wash the dirty dishes in the sink.

The silence begins to kill him. Agitated, he grabs at your shoulders, whirling you in his arms. You gasp as your palms flatten against his chest to steady yourself.

You glance up with wide eyes, and his gaze immediately softens. “Say something,” he urges, browns of his eyes drained with yearning.

His touch on your arms sends pleasurable ripples down your body, but you don’t make it known. Instead, you offer him a cold, obstinate expression, your mouth sealed shut in stubborn rage.

He feels pathetic as you look at him with steely eyes before pushing away and returning to wash the dishes. His gaze narrows in frustration. His fists tighten as a horrifying thought plagues his mind: the thought that you’ll give him the silent treatment till his last day in Korea, and he has to fly out before he gets to fix this.

Just the thought of leaving you makes him lose it.

Distressed, he bites his lip and fists his hair.

Think. Think. Think.

He spots the searing chicken, and suddenly, everything plays out before him. He envisions you coming to him with the food. You’ll have to talk to him when you give him his lunch.

He restrains a smile and waits for you to get done, arms folded over his chest as he leans against the kitchen counter, watching you intently.

Soon, you return to the stove and empty the pan on a clean plate. You scoop the rice from the cooker and serve it with sophisticated chef-like precision. You have a knack for presenting any dish—even something as simple as instant ramen—as if it belongs in a Michelin-star restaurant.

His mouth waters as he stares at the heat simmer. He can already taste the juices in his mouth. And then he patiently waits.

Your gaze roams the living room as you hold up the tray. His bashful smile widens as you approach him.

And then both his smile and heart drop when you walk past him towards the hallway— in the complete opposite fucking direction to his room. His jaw tightens as he rushes behind like a lost puppy, his confusion mounting as he sees you approach another room—Jungwon’s room.

The door is answered immediately as if he had been awaiting your arrival.

Jungwon’s smile widens, shaking the bangs out of his sight, his dimple peaking out charmingly. “I told you this wasn’t necessary, Y/N,” he chimes, but he stares at the scrumptious platter, licking his lips in excitement.

As you walked out of Ni-ki’s dorm, wiping tears from your eyes, you bumped heads with Jungwon, who instantly noticed how upset you appeared. He knew you were the most in your element whenever you cooked, so he brought up how badly he craved your stir fry. And that was all it took for you to work your magic.

God, Ni-ki was so lucky.

If Jungwon had a girlfriend as caring and talented in the kitchen, he’d probably lose his mind and devour everything you cooked like a ravenous beast.

“You said you were hungry, so I thought I’d cook you your favourite.” You give him an adorable smile, handing him the warm tray.

“Thank you, our lovely master chef!” Jungwon compliments, and you giggle softly at the nickname.

The sound makes Ni-ki sick. Your breathtaking smile directed towards someone who isn’t him makes him nauseous. The plate carrying flavours you created for someone else to devour makes him burn with resentment. The food that took so much effort to make intended for another member and not your fucking boyfriend makes Ni-ki violent. He’s never hated the sight of your food before today.

As you walk away, ignoring his presence, he hears a dull ringing in his ear. The bubbling frustration and anger have started to take a toll on his body.

It was questionable how ten hours of practice, sleepless nights and continuous shows didn’t make him this ill. But you have the power to bring him to his knees.

Jungwon notices Ni-ki standing motionless by the wall and meets his eyes with confusion.

Worst fucking mistake ever.

Predatory eyes, murderous—poisoning black holes stare him down. It doesn’t help that Ni-ki’s taller, and Jungwon shrinks, his mouth drying up in voiceless horror. Ni-ki steps forward, and Jungwon gulps, suddenly forgetting that he’s older.

Ni-ki grabs the chicken and stuffs it in his mouth. The threatening glare is enough for Jungwon to shut his mouth before Ni-ki marches away.

When Jungwon recovers, he notices only bits of capsicum and onion with plain rice remain.

Fucking Nishimura Ri-ki downed all the steaming chicken in one bite.

Jungwon withholds a groan and slams his door shut.

Meanwhile, you’re back in the living room, answering a phone call from a friend, fretting over the recent assignment. While you’re explaining it to her, you notice a towering presence behind you, his familiar cologne invading your senses even before you can turn to inspect the intrusion.

You ignore his presence, clarifying the assignment’s nuances. You assume he’ll tire out and leave to his room— the one he kicked you out of— eventually, but your breath gets caught in your throat when he grabs your wrist, jerking you close.

Your words morph into a screech of horror as Ni-ki effortlessly hoists you up on his shoulder. You’re upside down, screaming and throwing a tantrum as the phone escapes your grasp, a shrill scream of defiance leaving your mouth. You try kicking him, but he takes determined steps towards the hallway.

In a frantic haze, you catch sight of Sunoo and Jake standing in their doorway, peering to inspect the commotion. You scream for help, and for a second, you think Sunoo’s about to jump in to save your ass, but as if he’s seen a ghost— he freezes in his tracks. His fearful gaze lingers on Ni-ki, and he edges back inside, offering you nothing but an empathetic smile.

You want to curse the cowards out, but by the time you find your voice, you’re already inside Ni-ki’s room, and he’s locked the door shut. He takes you to his bed, then gently sits you on the bedding.

With your blood boiling, you can’t even meet his eyes. You attempt to reach the door, but he clenches your wrist and pulls you back. Consumed by violent rage, you punch his chest.

He takes it—without even a change to his breathing and remains blocking your path like a wall.

One. Two.

Three. Four.

By the fifth one, your fist hurts. You look up in distress.

Finally. He breathes.

You finally spare him a glance.

He feels the burden on his chest lighten, his tense frame easing as you finally spare him your complete attention— unfavourable attention but better than feeling like the discrete air that passes by.

“Give me any bruise you want, curse me out— I beg you, just don’t do this to me,” he’s stuttering, his voice low and brittle as he tries to suppress his fears.

Whenever Ni-ki sulks, his small eyes go round, and his lips pucker unintentionally. You almost falter at the sight, but his earlier words itch your insides, and you rip your wrist from his grasp in resentment.

“I would rather be anywhere else than in your fucking room.” He winces at the cruel tone, his eyes flashing with hurt as you attempt to walk off. Panic-stricken, he pushes down on your shoulders until you’re dropping onto the sheets.

Immediately, he drops to his knees and grabs your hand, pressing his lips to the back in soft kisses.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispers, and you feel his lips quiver against your skin. He trails kisses around until he’s peppering them in your palms.

“I’m a fucking moron— I’m sorry,” he chokes up and presses his entire face inside the warmth of your hands. You feel dampness.

Your heart throbs in torment.

“This is your room before it’s mine,” he mumbles and kisses your palms repeatedly. “You were just being your caring self—helping me get my shit together. I— I missed you so badly this month. I haven’t stopped thinking of you since the day I left,” his voice cracks.

Unknowingly, you’re also crying. You realise when wetness trails down your cheeks, and you tremble as emotions overwhelm you.

You lean down and caress his hair. “I missed you too, Riki.”

He feels a tug in his heart when you call him his real name, his chest suddenly tightening as he recalls just how terribly he missed you. And then how awfully he treated you.

He looks up with watery eyes, hair falling against his vision, and his insides shrivel in defeat. He hates your tears. Realising he’s made you cry over his stupidity, he wants to throw himself off the roof. A burning ache pools within his chest.

He releases a groan, wiping at your tears persistently.

“I’m sorry too,” you cry, and he wishes he could really burn himself alive.

“Why the fuck are you apologising?” His eyes burn with restrained anger.

He wishes you’d scold him and call it a day like any normal fucking girlfriend. But you’re his girl, insanely warm and disgustingly understanding—to him, always.

“I know I should’ve wrapped you in my arms before lashing out about how dirty the room is,” you admit, your lips pressing together with guilt. He’s watching you with confused anger as if he wants to refuse everything that escapes your mouth, but you eagerly complete your words.

“I just hate how badly overworked you are. I hate not seeing you for months. And I hate how you can’t be a normal nineteen-year-old like me. I know you aren’t some careless guy throwing a tantrum. You’re struggling to breathe in this rigorous world of stardom where one slip-up means the end of your career, where you cannot be anything less than perfect.”

As you talk about his struggles, he feels a tighter knot begin to clog his throat. Discomfort ceases his chest, and his eyes burn. His chest heaves with unspent tension.

You sniff and wipe at your cheeks. “And I guess walking into this room reminded me of your struggles. And then, I noticed how thin you’ve become— and wanted to cook you some—”

He gets off his knees, pouncing on top of you, his mouth clashing against yours in a passionate kiss. You tumble back with his body pressing down in desperate urgency.

Your breath is caught in your throat, lips frantically trying to match his intensity. His kiss dries your mouth; it’s so demanding and urgent like he’s getting to breathe air after ages. His tongue invades and intertwines with yours, sucking vehemently on your tongue for your taste. You’re a moaning, panting mess as his hands hold down your waist. He squeezes you in his hold, pushing his tongue deeper into your mouth like a depraved man.

You push at his neck defeatedly once you feel oxygen run out. He groans into your mouth, indicating his displeasure, but relents when your nails dig into his neck, forming painful crescents.

His face hovers over yours, heavy breath lingering against your gasping mouth. Impatiently, he stares into your eyes like he wants to transfer some of his energy and resilience to your body so you can let him kiss you however badly he wants. Magically, even his migraine has started to dispel— and his chest feels lighter. He also wants to smile and laugh like a lunatic and kiss you till your mouth bleeds.

The tension in your frame thickens as he rubs his nose against yours, still eyeing your heaving, flushed frame in yearning.

Warmth colours your cheeks, dried tears blinking along your lashes. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” He drags his nose against your cheek and drops a noisy kiss on the corner of your mouth.

“But whatever it is, it doesn’t excuse feeding hyung before me.”

You’re confused and ready to argue, but he’s already latched his mouth onto yours, attempting to make up for all the past time. After all, he still needs to put his hands everywhere and remind you of his touch, sulk because you cooked for Jungwon, plead for ramen with tofu to stuff himself full, convince you to sleep over and feed him all night.

[mokulule]

Eternity, I pledge

Dead on MAYn Day 3  Prompt: King Danny & Knight Jason Warnings: angsty and bittersweet.

Jason kneeled in front of his King. Around them the court of ghosts were quiet, but they could have been shouting for all that Jason noticed them; he only had eyes for one person.

Danny.

His King, his savior, his… friend. He had never seen him cold like this. For all that he had a core of ice, he usually had such warmth to him, a smile never far from his lips. 

He was laughter and gentle teasing as he eased Jason into his new powers - softening Jason’s frustration with tales of his own early struggles with his powers. He was a grounding hand to hold as Jason had to come to terms with the fact he hadn’t come all the way back. He was a tired smile after a long patrol, dark circles under human eyes, blunt nails rubbing into his scalp, something they hadn’t talked about building warm and pleasant in the space between them.

But now he was cold, frigid and deadly like icy waters. He was furious.

It wasn’t like Jason had expected him to be happy, Jason wasn’t an idiot. He’d known Danny would be unhappy, but he hadn’t expected this.

“Make your pledge then,” Danny finally spoke, though it was more like a cold snap. Frost nipped at Jason’s very human nose. There was nothing to do but go ahead, Jason could no more take back his actions than Danny could refuse them. He met Danny’s glowing blue eyes straight on and forced himself to speak loudly and firmly.

“I, Jason Todd, pledge myself to you, Danny Phantom, High King of the Infinite realms, to uphold your word as law, to serve as both your sword and shield-“ Jason paused to take a breath and then plunged in, “to be your Knight until the End.”

His words rang out with finality. The ancient pledge had not been heard in millennia, not since Halloween pledged himself to Dark and was dubbed Fright Knight. He suppressed a gasp as energy surged in his core. He felt open, laid bare. 

Finally Danny pulled the ice sword at his side, it howled like a storm as it escaped its scabbard. Jason felt chilled, for one terrifying moment certain that Danny would reject his pledge and plunge the blade into his chest. He had no idea where that came from. He trusted Danny with his life, but he had never seen him so angry.

Then, the blade rested lightly on one shoulder, then the next.

“Rise, my Red Knight.”

Jason rose stiffly. This would probably have been easier in ghost form, if nothing else he’d have been more resistant to the cold, but Jason hadn’t yet reached a point where he was comfortable in that form. Finally he’d wrangled his cold muscles into order and was standing.

Danny thrust the sword hilt into Jason’s right hand and blessedly held on as the power surged into him from the sword, a tsunami of power racing into his core. His knees threatened to buckle, but Danny squeezed harder and Jason forced his legs straight. The power, Danny’s power, felt exhilarating. There was pain too as his still healing core was forced to grow to accept it, but most of all it felt like flying, like stars swirling above, and that delighted swoop in his stomach.

Finally, after it felt like his core had grown three sizes and he would simply burst if he received any more power it stopped. Dazed Jason looked from his hand, to Danny’s hand still holding on. Then his gaze moved to Danny’s face and it was like a bucket of ice water had been poured over him.

“I hope you’re happy,” Danny spat lowly only for their ears, then let go, leaving the ice blade in Jason’s hand; he may as well have left it stabbed through his heart. 

The silence turned into a cheer around them that roared like useless noise in Jason’s ears. None of that mattered, only Danny, who turned his back on Jason and left.

Inside he screamed, howled like the winds he knew his new blade - Stormbringer, it whispered to him - would create, if only he let it. Jason sheathed the sword, ending the temptation. He wanted to go after Danny, but he had been surrounded by well-wishing ghosts, only some he recognized. He wanted to go after Danny, but he had never seen him so angry, maybe it was better to let leave him alone for now. He let the ghosts move him to the party, but he wasn’t quite there.

A year ago was the first time Jason noticed something more than usual was wrong with him. He tired easily. Sleeping didn’t replenish his strength. The rage that had been a constant companion was down to embers - something he’d thought was the result of bettering the relationship with his family, but apparently rage had been the fire that had kept him going and now- then- he’d been dying. 

It had been a slow steady decline. He tired more easily. His aches and bruises healed slower, and then it seemed not at all. It had taken two months from Jason realizing until he’d told Alfred as the first one, but by then they’d all suspected something was up anyways.

Nearly six months ago Jason had been bedridden, moved to the mansion for what they feared were his last days. 

That is when Danny - Phantom then - had come, like a light in the encroaching darkness. Jason could still vividly feel his ghostly fingers on his cheeks, his forehead resting against his as he seemed to breathe life back into him - or rather as he would later learn afterlife, ghost energy, ectoplasm. 

Jason had been properly awake and free of pain for the first time in months. 

Danny’s theory was that Jason had been a slowly forming halfa, when the League had gotten their hands on him. Jason would have probably eventually come back to awareness if just left on his own, though it may have taken years. Of course, nobody had known that, and Jason’s dip in the Lazarus Waters had forcibly brought his brain back online. 

Lazarus Water, however, was antithesis to ectoplasm. It healed only the living. It had only worked because his body had been enough alive due to the strangeness that governed halfa formations, but it had stunted his core formation - poisoned it. And so when the life force given to him by Lazarus had burned out, there had been nothing to stop Jason’s slow decay, his Ending - until Danny, who had been passing through Gotham had sensed him.

There had been a lot of chaos. His family had thought for a terrible moment that Phantom clad in his cloak seemingly weaved of the night sky itself had been Death themself come to claim him. And in a way he was, though it would only be later they learned he was the Ghost King. 

He had introduced himself, only after saving Jason, as Phantom, merely a passing spirit. Bat paranoia momentarily shelved due to Jason’s recovery, had meant fewer questions than would have normally been asked. Yes, Jason would recover now. No, he did not need anything in return. 

And then he’d gone.

A week later Jason was well enough to go home to his own apartment, cleaned by Alfred for his return, because it had been in a sorry state when he left. Finally alone, that was when Phantom had appeared again. That was when Phantom introduced himself as Danny, to just Jason, because they were the same. That was when Danny explained his theory, because he had spent the week doing research.

He could have just left, but Jason would be developing powers now. Danny wanted to be sure Jason had the support he’d never had. So, he wanted to tell him he was sticking around Gotham in case he needed him. 

And boy, had Jason needed him when he got stuck having fallen halfway through the floor a week later. Luckily Jason had had his phone in hand when it had happened and Danny was only a call away. 

It would be another month until Jason discovered that by sticking around Gotham it meant human Danny was squatting in a damp, moldy, half collapsed building slated for demolition and Jason had dragged him back to his own apartment - no matter Danny’s protests that the vibes were right for a ghost and that he couldn’t get sick anyways.

But despite his protests Danny hadn’t left. 

It was easier like that, Danny was close when he had mishaps and besides he was good company, especially because he’d been benched due to rapidly developing powers and didn’t have the outlet of patrols. 

It was easier, despite how it meant Danny had to be reintroduced to the rest of the family. Something that Jason thought went rather well, but Danny lamented as an unmitigated disaster. 

Two months ago, Danny had started to look worried. 

One month ago Danny had explained he would have to leave soon. Jason would be okay, he had his basic powers under control. He might still develop more, but since he had a feel for his core now, he’d likely master them easily enough. 

Danny would visit of course. He hoped Jason would like him to visit. 

Jason had prodded and prodded until Danny admitted to being the Ghost King. That his Knight was sick due to having broken his oath to the previous king. He had released him from the oath, but the only reason he was still existing at all was due to him being the spirit of Halloween. 

He was without a Knight and that was not a situation that could continue. For the stability of the Infinite Realms and himself he had to have a Knight. He had to leave to oversee the challenges the candidates had to overcome. 

Jason had asked to come along, to see the Infinite Realms he also belonged to. Danny had been unable to argue that point. He had even despite his worry, given Jason a small excited smile telling him he looked forward to showing him. 

Jason had felt a stab of guilt, because his real reason was to enter the challenges. 

Jason had known Danny would be angry, but he had never imagined he’d be that angry. The words “I hope you’re happy” spat at him like acid, echoed in his mind again and again.

A whispy hand on his shoulder brought him back to the present. He’d mostly been left alone by the partying ghosts at this point. He around turned to see the translucent shadowy form of Halloween. 

It was hard to believe this had once been the Fright Knight depicted in paintings and tapestries in the castle. He was barely solid for short bursts that pulled his shadows together only to drift apart again slowly. Only his green eyes shone with any sort of vitality. 

“You did well,” his voice was weak like a call from a distance instead of right next to his ear. 

Jason didn’t know whether to laugh or cry right then, his throat made some sort of half choked noise without his permission. “Danny doesn’t think so.”

“You were the strongest candidate, especially suited to His Majesty… because you are both Halfa…” 

Jason could practically see the way Halloween’s energy waned as he struggled to speak. He tried to tell him he didn’t have to say anymore, but the former Knight forged on.

“He will see…. 

In time…”

Jason grabbed for him reflexively as he faded from view. For just a moment, Jason thought he’d Ended, just like Jason had nearly Ended half a year ago. His breath stuck panicked in his throat, until he realized he could still feel Halloween’s presence. 

Slowly and carefully he let out his burning breath. Halloween had merely exhausted himself.

-

The following week was torture. Danny didn’t lose his cold fury for even a moment, as Jason followed him on his official duties: meetings and introductions of Jason as Red Knight to the leaders of the Realms, as well as the more mundane territory disputes and requests spanning from help with the more eldritch elements of the Realms to approval of taking a date to the living realms Danny apparently dealt with, now and again, that had been put off when Danny had been in the living realm. 

He was quite literally giving Jason the cold shoulder. The Realms were noticeably colder than they had been when they had arrived together. The Far Frozen seemed to be the only place that wasn’t affected, but then that had already been frigid. The ghosts they met with were unnerved by Danny’s mood, even though he was fair as ever. From what Ember had told him with an amused smirk, they usually argued more with Danny, so at least something good had come out of Danny’s anger with him. 

Every day of this Jason’s frustration grew. How were they supposed to resolve things when Danny would not even look at him! It was like the Danny he knew had been locked behind a glacier and every day it became more and more tempting to try and punch his way through the barrier.

It came to a head in a hallway. They had spent a very long day in a meeting with a delegation from some far off kingdom that had spent something like five years to even get here to greet the new Ghost King. Jason was tired from standing all day, and Danny stopping in the hallway, barely turning his head to say “you may leave”, was the last drop.

“What is the matter with you!” Jason snapped.

“Me?” Danny asked dangerously, the air itself rippled around him, but Jason had had enough, he was prepared to dig his grave as deep as it needed to go.

“Yes you, what the Hell crawled up your ass?”

Danny turned in the air and for the first time his anger was hot. He poked Jason in his chest forcing him to take a step back. If Jason had been in ghost form, maybe he could have resisted.

“I take you here on your request to see the Realms, and you lied to me. You enter the challenges. You, who couldn’t even free yourself from the floor a few months ago, who didn’t even know you were a ghost! You, who are still not comfortable enough to stay in your ghost form for any length of time! You could have Ended.”

Jason’s momentary guilt was burned up by the attacks on his faillings. 

“But I didn’t. I won. Even in my weak human form.”

Danny scoffed. “What do you want Jason? A gold star for binding yourself to me for eternity? You didn’t even talk to me!”

“You wouldn’t have let me!”

“Of course I wouldn’t. I’ve had a decade to come to terms with eternity, you’ve had not even six months!”

“Six months, a decade, I don’t see how it matters. You needed a Knight!”

“It didn’t have to be you!”

“You would have settled for one of those two bit ghosts?”

“They would have been serviceable!”

Fury and jealousy rose so fast and ugly in his chest Jason expected to see green - of course no green came, because Danny had rid him of every last speck of Lazarus influence when he’d healed him. Danny, who had shown him a whole new world, who’d made him feel like- His thoughts staggered, unwilling to go there. Danny was telling him he’d rather have some low rate poltergeists, that was the important part.

“You would pick them over me!”

“Kneel, Jason!” Danny’s voice thundered and Jason’s knees promptly hit the floor sending a jolt of pain all the way up his spine. Disoriented, it took him a moment to understand, a moment for the horror to settle in. 

His body had moved on its own. “Do you get it now, what it means that my word is law?” Danny snarled and held the anger for all of three more seconds. Then, his face crumbled and he fell to his own knees in front of Jason. His hands clenched into fists in his lap as he looked up at Jason. Jason was shocked to see tears in his eyes. 

“Do you understand now?” Danny pleaded, “Do you understand what you’ve pledged to me for eternity?”

“Danny…” Finally, Jason understood why Danny was so upset. 

“I love you Jason,” Danny confessed hoarsely, voice barely more than a whisper, “I wanted you by my side, not three steps behind.”

Jason followed the tears down Danny’s cheek until they made small splashes as they landed on his clenched fists. 

“Danny,” Jason repeated and drew him into his arms. Danny shuddered through a sob and desperately held on to him in return. 

“Why did it have to be you?” 

Jason didn’t have any arguments anymore, he was left only with the simple truth. He couldn’t abide anyone else as Danny’s Knight-

“Because I love you.”

Danny only cried harder at that. The entire castle shook and rolled with his grief. Jason couldn’t do anything but hold him. Nothing he could say could change the past. 

Nothing could change the fact that he would do it again.  

He buried his face in Danny’s soft hair to hide his own tears. It was the truth. No one else was good enough. Maybe if there had been more time, but there hadn’t. Danny had already spent a decade with a not-properly pledged Knight, who was weakened from betraying the old King. They had already pushed the choosing as far as they could waiting for Danny to grow into his own role. Halloween had explained this to Jason. “Why-” Jason stopped for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts into something sensible, “why does this have to stop us?” Danny drew back, looking a Jason in disbelief with his red-rimmed eyes. 

“I hold all the power, that’s a terrible basis for a relationship!”

Jason reached out, cupping Danny’s cheek. He closed his eyes and he couldn’t help but lean into it.

“You wouldn’t misuse that power - I trust you.” Jason didn’t trust easily, but Danny had had the power all throughout the time they’d known each other. Even if it hadn’t been as clear. Even if it hadn’t been as literal as now, he’d always been careful of making sure Jason had a choice, he’d been homeless in Gotham to stick around just in case Jason wanted his help. Jason trusted him.

“I don’t trust me,” Danny said quietly and his usually glowing green eyes were matte and lifeless as he reopened them to look at Jason. “Eternity is a very long time, Jason. People change.”

Jason growled. He hated seeing Danny so listless, so defeated. As if him becoming a tyrant was a certain path. He took Danny’s face into both his hands and pressed his forehead to his in a mirror of what Danny had done so many months ago. If only Jason could inject a bit of life back to him, but that wasn’t Danny problem. Danny problem was that Jason was bound to obey him through his pledge. His pledge!

“Swear to me-“ What? He couldn’t swear not to ever give Jason an order, he was his Knight he would serve his King, he gained power from serving him. There had to be something else. Something that would let Jason help and not just follow blindly…

“Swear never to silence me, swear you will at least listen and consider and-“ Jason smiled “I will tell you when you are being an idiot.”

Danny sputtered drawing back Jason’s hands to hold them instead, but there was light back in him as he looked at Jason bemused.

“This doesn’t solve the core problem.”

“No. But I like to think it helps.”

Danny huffed. Then looking at Jason intently for any indication of discomfort he lifted Jason’s right knuckles to his lips. A delighted shudder ran up Jason’s arm leaving his hairs standing on end.

“I think it’s supposed to be the other way around,” Jason commented mouth dry as sand.

Danny ignored his inane comment and just kept holding Jason’s eyes as he spoke, “I swear to never silence you.” Then he lifted up the left hand and kissed those knuckles too. “I swear I will at least listen to and consider your words.”

The promise settled like a weighted blanked around them. It was nothing like the pledge in the throne room, which was power and chains, even if Jason hadn’t recognized the chains at the time, this was a comfort. 

They had a long way to go still, but at least Danny was the Danny he knew now instead of the furious king. They had time, eternity in fact to work out things. 

Jason tried to think of that as a good thing.

-

I feel I must apologize for the ending, it's just the mood this fic wanted. But I hope you enjoyed it anyways!

If it helps I do imagine them happy eventually, though it takes Danny a very very long time to ever give words to things he wants in the context of the two of them.

[xxsabitoxx]

Pretty Witch | Kinktober

Kitsune Hybrid Giyu x AFAB Witch Reader

Warnings: fucking a stranger, human/kitsune hybrid, brief talk of witchcraft, raw sex, pussy eating, creampies, dom/sub themes, mentions of mating, biting

A/N: ohohoho kinktober is here and I'm stressed, not that that matters lol, enjoy!

WORD COUNT: 5.8k | Dividers are from @benkeibear

You swallowed, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape as you stared at the creature you had summoned. You had every intention of getting a cat familiar, a furry little friend to keep you company since it was just you out in these woods. It wasn’t often that clients came by to get medicines from you, so the presence of another living creature would be greatly appreciated. “W-who the hell are you?” you nearly shrieked, watching as the man standing across from you, just beyond your caldron straightened. “Who the hell am I?” he quipped, dark brows creasing as he observed you. “You’re the one that summoned me, you should know who I am.” 

You swallowed, eyes trailing over his features. He was undeniably handsome, whoever the hell he was, but that didn’t answer your question. “I-I didn’t summon you.” you stated lamely, hands clasping the wooden stirring spoon. “Oh really?” he eyed you, navy eyes roaming over your body before focusing on your face again. “The cauldron says otherwise, little witch.” You stiffened at his tone, a gentle purring was the only way you could describe it. “W-well I did try to summon a familiar but I wanted a cat not… you.” You choked out, face warming as you realized it was rather insulting when you put it like that. “So you’re a newbie witch that managed to summon an ancient guardian for yourself instead of a cat?” Your face grew even hotter. 

“A-an ancient guardian?” You watched his arms fold, the smoke finally clearing enough for you to see the fluffy black ears perched at the top of his soft looking hair. “The name is Tomioka Giyu, no witch or warlock has been able to summon me successfully over the last millennium… yet you managed to do it by mistake. What a curious creature you are.” you were still clutching the spoon to your chest as Tomioka began walking around the cauldron. You knew he wouldn’t harm you, but it didn’t stop your heart from racing in your chest as he closed the distance to stand right before you. “I am at your service, pretty witch.” He bowed to you, blue eyes locking with yours as he straightened again. “O-oh well thank you I-uhh-I suppose.” 

He flashed you a soft smile, one that just barely curled the corners of his lips as he stuck his hand out for you to take. Reluctantly, you placed your hand in his, face burning hot as he brought your hand to his lips and kissed your worn knuckles. “Let’s sit and talk, I’d like to get to know my summoner a little better.” You nodded, half in a daze as Tomioka brushed your knuckles softly. You couldn’t lie, the guardian was rather beautiful with his fair skin and sharp jawline, pretty blue eyes as such long fluffy hair. You found the heat that had been bubbling in your cheeks was  now spreading its way to the rest of your body. “I take it you live alone.” he commented as he motioned you to sit beside him on your couch, books and papers spread over your coffee table. 

You nodded, suddenly self conscious of how cluttered your little cabin was. “I do live alone, I have no lover, if that is what you are trying to ask, Tomioka.” You weren’t sure where your bluntness came from, nor were you sure of why it made your body throb. Suddenly the room felt way too small and way too hot, but that was likely all in your head, all because of the mythical being sitting beside you. He huffed out a laugh, thumb still gingerly brushing your knuckles. “You’re turned on.” His voice was quiet but it seemed to shamelessly echo between the four walls of your living room. “Wh-what?!” you squeaked, hand nearly flying out of his grasp. 

“I can sense it, pretty witch. You’re very turned on right now… how odd.” there was a teasing tone to his voice, and for the first time you noticed three tails shamelessly swaying side to side just behind him. “You’re… you’re a kitsune?” you commented offhandedly, trying to desperately ignore the fact that he had just called you out for your own horniness. “I am, but that is beside the point. What has occurred over the last five minutes – give or take – that has caused you to become so bothered?” He hummed, all of his focus was on you and your raging hormones. But you wouldn’t dare admit that you haven’t been intimate with another in quite some time. 

“I-I…” you stammered, unable to formulate a lie under his intense blue gaze. “There is nothing wrong with it. I don’t mind if you find me attractive, pretty witch.” the kitsune nearly purred, hand still holding yours. “... I am at your service” he repeated, but this time his tone was implying much more. “Whatever you desire from me, I will do, without question or hesitation.” You blinked, tensing a bit as you shook your head. “Tomioka I… that’s not the reason I summoned a familiar… or at least tried too. I just… wanted company… I don’t desire to use you for my own… pleasure.” You choked out, quite positive your face was neon red at this point, but the ancient guardian didn’t seem to care. 

“You’re stuck with me until the end of your days, pretty witch. You’ll have no time to go out and find yourself a lover… you already have me.” You felt your heart rate quicken, somewhere in the back of your mind you had to wonder just what he had been summoned for in the past. “But—I…” you stammer, losing the battle quickly as the kitsune licks his lips. “Pretty witch, I can promise you endless days of bliss. So long as you keep me by your side, you’ll never desire another, you’ll never feel the loneliness you’ve got festering inside of you… nor will you ever have to satisfy yourself using your hands…” you swallowed, squirming a bit in your seat as he drew a little closer. “I can be your everything.” 

“Tomioka, we’ve just met.” You regain a little of your composure, thighs squeezing to try and alleviate the throb between your legs. His words had done a number on you, reminding you of how much you missed being intimate with someone… but still. “And we will have plenty of time to get to know each other over the course of your mortal life… why waste time on such trivial things when I can clear your mind for you here and now.” He urged you, still drawing closer as you inched away. “Tomioka…” you tried again, knowing if he got any closer, you would immediately give in. Though, somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew giving in to his desires was inevitable.

That was the thing you failed to remember about Kitsune… they were clever creatures who enjoyed mischief. The ancient guardian before you had over a millennium to perfect his craft, that much was clear. “Pretty witch, I am devoted to you and you alone. What more could you ask for?” In truth, nothing. He was presenting you with everything you could ever desire and yet your stupid morals were still holding you back. “Tomioka… I don’t want to rush you into anything… we just met…” the fact that you had quite literally just met was the only thing holding you. You would likely continue to sound like a broken record even after you gave in. 

“We’re not rushing anything, pretty witch. I’ve spent years alone with nobody to hold, not a single soul has been successful in summoning me and yet you did it by mistake. It would be my honor to serve and satisfy your every need… so please… pretty witch… let me taste you.” he had you completely entranced now, noses nearly bumping as he had managed to move closer without you realizing. “Please, pretty—” you stopped him easily with one word “yes…” you breathed out, watching his lips part in surprise before a real smile curled his lips. “Wonderful.” 

You made a noise of surprise as his lips roughly crashed into your own. His hand was still holding yours, fingers intertwining now as you used your free hand to cup his jaw. Tomioka’s free hand came up to hold the back of your head, as if afraid you would change your mind and pull away. He already couldn’t get enough of your taste, tongue sliding past your parted lips to sweep into your mouth and collect every drop of your sweetness. You must have had something with honey, a sickly sweet taste he hadn’t gotten the chance to experience in centuries. You whined as he groaned, lapping feverishly at your mouth and your docile tongue. 

It wasn't long before he was pushing more of his weight onto you, causing you to fall back into the armrest of your couch. Tomioka reluctantly untangled his hand from your own, mumbling something into your mouth as you whined from the lack of contact. That changed the moment you felt his now free hand sliding to push your dress up, the skirt had already bunched a bit around your knees and now he was pulling it up the rest of the way. You tore yourself away from his lips, ignoring his disgruntled growl as you gasped for air. “It’s been far too long since I've had my fill of a pretty mortal, but truly none of them could ever compare to you… pretty witch.” he sighed, lips slightly swollen from the force of your kisses as he watched your legs part for him. 

“You’re so turned on…” he smirked now, watching your hips squirm a bit at the comment. Your hands were twitching at your side, unsure of what to do with them as the kitsune observed the wet mark on your panties. “Gods I’ll give you everything your heart desires…” he breathed out, stealing the air from your lungs with the intensity of his words. “T-tomioka…” you choked out, watching his slender fingers dip between your thighs to press on the wet mark. You gasped, one hand reaching up to grip his bicep as the other dug into the material of the couch. “Sensitive…” another offhand comment that had your face glowing with heat, eyes struggling to stay open as he dragged his fingers along your covered slit. With each movement, the wet mark only grew. At this point you were convinced he just wanted to see how badly he could ruin the garment. 

“You smell so good…” he breathed out again, voice raspy as he brought the two fingers to his nose and inhaled deeply. You audibly gasped, legs instinctively trying to close out of embarrassment as he inhaled the scent of your arousal. “Ah-ah pretty witch, there is no hiding from me now… or ever.” he parted his lips and stuck the two digits between them, swirling his tongue around them before pulling them out again. Slick with his saliva, he brought them down to your cunt again, slipping them under the material to run through your slit. Your head fell back at the feeling of his bare fingers on your cunt, a desperate plea for him to take your underwear off slipped past your lips before you could stop it. The kitsune only huffed out a laugh, a single clawed nail ripping the material from your body. The sensation was oddly fascinating, especially as you pulled your head up to watch the claw return to a human nail. 

Tomioka felt a sense of satisfaction at the wonder mixing with arousal in your eyes, you were already wrapped around his finger. “Pretty witch, tell me what you want me to do. Whatever your heart desires… I’ll do it.” he did nothing to hide the way his cock was throbbing between his legs, watching you lazily look down at it before meeting his gaze. “Finger me… please.” Something about his aura caused you to lose your filter, you had never said such things with such a desperate tone before. “As you wish.” You moaned loudly as he shoved the two fingers he had been using to swipe along your slit inside of your dripping entrance. Tomioka made a noise with you, the warmth of your cunt enveloping his fingers was sending the kitsune into a spiral. “I forgot how warm you mortals can be…” he gritted out, three tails swaying wildly as he tried to ease the racing in his chest. “T-tomioka…” you whined, walls fluttering around his slender digits. 

“Tell me what you want me to do.” his chest was rising and falling in rapid succession as he panted, he had never felt like this before, and he was quickly becoming addicted to it. “M-move them please… pump them in and out… like this…” you reached down and wrapped your fingers around his wrist, moving it back and forth the best you could until he started doing it on his own. Tomioka knew how to do it of course, but he loved the sound of your voice, how needy it was when you instructed him so sweetly on what to do. It made his cock throb, the aching desire building in his gut was dizzying as your sticky arousal coated his fingers. It wasn’t long before your head fell back again, every moan was accompanied by a slick squelch as the kitsune fucked you on his fingers. “T-tomioka… please…” he knew what you were asking without even saying it, but the kitsune had other things in mind. 

You gasped as the kitsune maneuvered himself lower, mouth moving to hover over your pulsating clit as his fingers continued to pump into you endlessly. “Please!” your whine turning into a wail as his lips suctioned to the sensitive bud. You couldn’t recall the last time someone had made you feel this good, especially with just their mouth and fingers. Tomioka sucked harshly, tongue flicking across as his fingers curled within your heat. You felt it now, your orgasm building at a much steadier and much more reachable rate. He could feel your thighs begin to tremble as he worked, the hand that had been holding his bicep was now hazardously scratching at your own thigh. Your mind was far too dazed to even process what you were doing until the kitsune brushed over that one particular spot.

Your hips left the couch, a loud gasp of “there!” leaving your lips as your hand now found its home in the kitsune’s hair. He groaned as your fingers scratched at his scalp, three tails swaying excitedly as it sent a chill straight down his spine. The kitsune continued to rub against that one spot on the front of your walls, not stopping even after a considerable amount of your arousal started leaking steadily down to the couch below you. Judging by the way your noises only grew louder, the way your cunt only grew wetter, and the way your nails were digging into his scalp, you were close to coming all over his face and fingers. That edged the kitsune on, groaning against your sloppy cunt as you cried out his name over and over. It hit you like a ton of bricks, an orgasm ripping through your body in a way that had you seeing stars. 

The kitsune worked you through it, pulling his mouth away after a moment but continuing to rub circles within your walls until your body relaxed again. You blinked up at him, tears pricking your eyes as you tried to calm your racing heart. “T-tomioka…” You whispered, not able to make a noise any louder at that moment. He merely hummed, pulling his fingers out of your drenched core to shamelessly suck on them. “I’m not done with you, pretty witch.” he spoke after licking his fingers clean, wasting no time to bend down and slot his lips sloppily against yours. Your noises of surprise were swallowed by him, tongue licking into your mouth again but this time you were the one tasting something you hadn’t in a long time. Your own arousal was coating your tongue, making you whine as the kitsune moved to press his hips against yours.

It was an odd sensation, his covered hard-on pressed right against your slick heat, surely you’d make a mess of him. Though, the kitsune didn’t seem to mind, hips stuttering against yours as he rolled them tentatively, eliciting a soft groan from his lips as he pulled away from you. Salvia connected you still, his fair complexion flushed a shade of crimson as he tried to regain what little composure he had left. “Tomioka… please… my bed.” You watched him nearly sag, nodding wordlessly as he quickly climbed off of you just to bend down and scoop you up again. You grabbed ahold of him, not expecting such strength considering he seemed to have a slim build. You yelped as he dropped you onto your plush mattress, quickly climbing over you once again. 

Your legs spread wordlessly for the kitsune, moaning against his lips as he got more handsy. You couldn’t quite pay attention to his movements, but it wasn’t long before you were fully bare. Part of you figured you should feel some sort of shyness, but the way his eyes devoured you whole made you feel like you were the only woman on earth. At this point, you may as well have been. Nothing could pull the kitsune’s gaze from you, his lips parted as he admired your chest. “Pretty witch…” he murmured, one hand coming down to caress your breast while the other began hastily undoing his pants. You whined, back arching into his touch as he gingerly kneaded the pliant flesh. Your nipples had long since hardened, scraping against his rough palm in a way that had more arousal leaking from your center. “Please… fuck me.” 

Your moral compass had completely gone out the window, all you could think about now was what it would feel like to get speared on the kitsune’s cock. “As you wish, my pretty witch.” he breathed out, letting go of your breast to roughly shove his pants down to his mid-thigh. The ancient kitsune had no patience to fully undress himself, too focused on entering your body and claiming you as his own. That was all it would take, to claim you as his and his alone, his mouth was filling with saliva at the very thought. “Can you take it?” he murmured, hand gingerly wrapping around the pale length of his cock, the tip an angry pink and leaking with precum. “Yes, fuck just… please Tomioka…” the kitsune squeezed himself, whining as he listened to you beg for him. “Please… fuck I want to feel you…” you pushed yourself up on your elbows. 

“Again. Say it again.” you felt your own face grow warm before uttering “fuck me, Tomioka.” but the kitsune shook his head, tugging roughly at his own cock. “Giyu.” was all he said, watching your face morph into confusion. “My name… call me Giyu.” The realization dawning on your face only made his fist move faster, something about the innocence of it had him melting. “G-giyu… oh fuck… Giyu please.” The kitsune’s name felt right coming from your mouth, and by the look on his face, it felt right for him too. “Promise me, pretty witch, promise me you can take it.” You nodded, fingers digging into the sheets below you as you remained partially upright. “I can take it, Giyu.” The kitsune gave in, angling the head at your entrance, one knee digging into the mattress while his other leg was planted firmly on the floor. You had a feeling that position wouldn't last. 

Your teeth sunk into your lower lip, eyes trained on where he was pressing the dull head against your entrance. One push was all it took for your cunt to envelop him, your body quivering as he didn’t give you much time to adjust. He wasn’t going to go easy, you had told him so sweetly you could take it, so he would deal you everything he could offer. You whined his name loudly, the sound echoing off of your bedroom walls as the kitsune bottomed out. “So good…” he uttered softly, panting as his nails dug into the flesh of your hips. He was completely entranced by the way your walls fluttered around him, hugging every inch he had stretched you open with. Your arms had quickly gone limp, forcing you to lay flat again as you panted and waited for the mild ache to disburse. He had gone in all at once, but you were thankful he was holding himself still. 

“Tell me… pretty witch… what do you want now…” his heart was in his throat, beating at the same erratic rate his cock was twitching inside of you. Truthfully he hadn’t moved yet because he had nearly blown his load while entering you. “Kiss me, Giyu. Please kiss me.” Your chest was rising and falling at a rapid pace, his eyes drawn to the way it moved before he shifted your positions. As the kitsune bent down to kiss you, he pushed you further into the mattress, using the new space to crawl on top with you. You whined, a pretty and high pitch noise that made Giyu’s head swim as his lips met yours again. The kitsune moaned with you now, happy to feel your tongue fight back against his. The kiss turned sloppy, melting into shallow thrusts of his hips against yours as he lost himself in you. 

Your arms wrapped around his neck, keeping his lips pressed to yours. You needed something to keep yourself grounded, the shallow drag of his cock was not nearly enough to satisfy the ache in your gut. The kitsune knew this, of course. His slender fingers were dragging down your skin before sinking into your thighs. You took the hint, legs wrapping around his waist as if to encourage him. Yet, the ever teasing kitsune kept his thrusts shallow, just barely pulling out of you before sliding back in. It felt more like a slow rock, just barely moving enough to feel it. You knew what he was doing, purposely holding out just so he could hear you beg again. Any other partner and you may have been more defiant, but you couldn’t explain in words how badly your body craved the mythical kitsune above you. “Giyu…” 

You struggled to speak, his lips still slotted over yours. He heard you, ears perking as he pulled away from you. “Yes? What do you require?” he was grinning a sly smirk, the devious glint in his eyes made you feel hot all over, walls clenching around him tightly. That simple movement wiped the grin clean off his face, a whine slipping past his lips as you clung to him. It was nearly painful, the force of your walls suctioning down on him felt like pressing into a fresh bruise. It sent a chill up his spine, pale flesh erupting in goosebumps. “Fuck me like you want me.” you choked out, the full feeling starting to make you antsy as he had yet to properly move. A look of pure desire passed over the kitsune’s face, any ounce of restraint he had was truly gone now. “Careful of what you wish for, pretty witch.” though, you had never been one to be careful anyways. 

The kitsune’s hips drew back until nothing but the tip was left inside of you. Just as quickly as he had pulled away, he was thrusting his hips back into you. Your head fell back, exposing your neck to him as he repeated the motion again and again. It took him a minute to find his rhythm, rough and fast but not nearly as forceful as the first few goes. Your nails were digging into his clothing, wishing desperately that he had taken the time to undress. Especially considering he had wasted so much time teasing you like he had. “G-giyu please… your voice bounced with each slap of his hips against your own, eyes watering as molten pleasure ebbed through your core. He was managing to drag along all the right places, the slight curve of his dick pressing into your sweet spot with every thrust. You felt your orgasm building already, dangling just out of your reach. 

“Hmm? Wh-ah-at is it?” he tried to keep his voice even but your cunt was far too sinful to not elicit pretty whines from the kitsune’s lips. “Take your clothes off…” you pleaded with him, eyes shining with tears as you yanked weakly at the haori he had been wearing. You had been so utterly engulfed in him that you failed to even notice the clothing he was dressed in. Not that you cared at this moment, you just wanted them off of him. “I don’t think so, pretty witch.” He grounded out, head dipping lower to drag his nose along the column of your neck. “W-why not.” you would have pouted if his nose dragging along your skin didn’t make goosebumps follow in its wake. “Because you haven’t earned that yet, my pretty pretty witch.” he cooed, voice cracking just a bit as he buried himself deep again. 

“E-earned it? I haven’t earned it?” you nearly cried, hands coming up to hold your own breasts as you tried to push away and alleviate the pressure of his cock head pressing harshly into your cervix. “You have to cum on my cock in order to earn such a sight… I may be desperate for you, pretty little witch, but I have my standards.” You fought back the urge to call the sly kitsune a whore, but if he was a whore so were you. “O-oh whatever! Just keep going, please. I’ve been so good for you… you swore to do everything I wanted.” You whined, letting go of your breasts to reach up and hold his cheeks. The kitsune smiled, a little softer than his other ones. “Don’t you worry, my pretty little witch…” he leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “... for I am only teasing you. My heart and body belong to you and you alone.”

“Giyu…” his name left your lips in a quiet, wonderstruck plea. Your heart was thumping erratically in your chest again, warmth blossoming behind your ribcage and spreading all over. The kitsune’s teasing demeanor changed, lips lowering to yours in a soft kiss as he shouldered off his haori and tossed it to the side. His hips found a new rhythm, slow and deep, dragging along your velvety walls until he was panting into your mouth. You parted again as he whined, forehead pressing to yours as his eyes closed, inhaling deeply to calm himself before it was over too fast. “G-giyu this doesn’t get you out of not stripping for me…” you teased as he tried to concentrate, his cheeks flushing red as he tried to pretend he didn’t hear you. 

“Have I really not earned it, my pretty kitsune?” you pressed him further, batting your lashes as his eyes snapped open at the use of the nickname. “...” he blinked, lips parted and hips shallowly thrusting again. “Answer me please… am I not worthy enough?” you urged him on, feeling a little bad about guilting him into an answer but you were desperate. The kitsune sighted, head dropping a little lower so he was speaking more to your neck than your face. “I’m…” he mumbled the rest, between the racing of your heart and the ache between your legs, you couldn’t decipher what he had uttered. “Giyu, my sweet kitsune, you need to speak up.” Your fingers threaded in his hair, ankles still locked behind the small of his back to keep him from pulling out and leaving you all together. “I said…” he swallowed, moving to whisper in your ear instead of your neck. 

“I’m shy.” your hands tightened in his hair a bit, eyes wide as he slowly lifted his head to reveal a pout on his pretty lips. “Oh… oh…” you smiled a bit, legs pulling him a little closer. “My pretty, pretty kitsune. You have nothing to be shy about, it’s me.” You encouraged him, lost in the haze of your lust, brain working on autopilot because he was still buried balls deep inside of you. You wanted to sound sincere, not lust driven, so you cupped his cheeks again and brought his lips to yours. You kissed him once, twice, three times, quick and soft, watching his eyes flutter shut as he relaxed into you again. “You do not have to shed your clothing if you are not ready, but know I will never judge you for your body, my pretty kitsune.” He swallowed,  eyes shifting away from you as he inhaled deeply. “Stop calling me that.” He wasn't angry, rather he was embarrassed of the way it made his stomach swirl with butterflies. 

You only smiled, watching him regain a little bit of composure as he pushed himself up on his hands to hover over you again rather than lay on you. Giyu sighed, hips drawing back finally before pressing into you again. “You have to learn some respect.” He drawled, jaw clenching as he focused solely on moving his hips in and out of your tight cunt. He straightened further, until he was sitting on his knees and his hands no longer needed to support him. This allowed the kitsune to bury his fingers in your pliant flesh, holding you still as he rutted his hips into you at a brutal pace. Every ounce of sanity you had left fled your body as the Kitsune began punishing you for flustering him so thoroughly. “Maybe I’ll mate you, would you like that, my pretty witch?” You choked out an incoherent, strangled noise, eyes nearly rolling back as each thrust hit your cervix. The kitsune would take that as an attempt at “yes”. Though, it wouldn’t happen just yet, considering kitsunes only had one mating season per year, one rut that wouldn’t arrive till winter. 

Though, he didn’t mind practicing until then. 

Giyu’s head fell back, hands now moving to force your hips to meet each of his thrusts. You were only growing wetter, now that he had found a steady rhythm with no interruptions, a slick squelch could be heard each time you connected. “Giyu please…!” you gasped, your orgasm was within reach now, you just needed that extra push. The kitsune only panted in response, one hand leaving your hips to rub rough circles on your clit. “Oh fuck…” you croaked, head tossing back against the mattress a the kitsune brought you to your second peak. He never slowed, working you straight through until you were overstimulated and clawing at the sheets begging him to ease up. The kitsune was too focused now, his end in sight as he fell forward to bury his face in your neck again. His hands left your lower half, instead moving to cradle you against him as he placed open mouth kisses on your neck. “G-giyu please oh fuck please…” you pleaded again, pain returning to pleasure as he fucked you through the aftershocks of your orgasm. 

The kitsune mumbled something against your neck, not that it mattered. You couldn’t think, not when he was still rutting into you so intently, canines dragging along your neck. He was close, so close he felt his body may give out before he could reach it. It had been far, far too long since he had been able to do this. The fact that he had managed to last as long as he had made his pride swell in his chest, especially when you were a wreck beneath him. “Come for me, please!” you gasped, it felt like the wind had been knocked out of you as the kitsune sunk his teeth into your flesh. Your back arched into him, his hips meeting yours three more times before he was burying himself deep and spilling his load into your awaiting womb. The kitsune collapsed on you, really knocking the wind out of you this time. Nothing but panting filled the room, your ears ringing mildly from the new silence that seemed louder than anything you had just done. 

“Are you… alright?” His head lifted after what felt like an eternity, stormy eyes focusing on his teeth marks on the junction where your shoulder met your neck. “N-never been better.” you wheezed, tapping his shoulder a bit until he realized he was nearly crushing you. “Oh… well…” he cleared his throat, moving to draw his hips away from yours. The feeling of him slipping out of you caused a shiver to go up your spine, the ache between your legs spreading to your hips and thighs. He had done a number on you. “Are you really okay?” The kitsune looked nervous, cheeks flushed red as he watched his cum slip out of your cunt. “I’m just a little sore… and sticky.” you chuckled, watching him turn a deeper shade of crimson before flopping beside you on the mattress. “I’ll clean you up, my pretty witch. Just… give me a second to regain feeling in my legs.” he confessed, hand coming up to rub his face as you laughed a little harder. 

“Best mistake I've made in a while.” You commented with a grin, head turning to meet his eyes as he blinked at you. “I better be the best mistake you’ve made, period.” Giyu shot back, a smirk dragging the corners of his lips up. “I guess you’re right.” you faked your exasperation, surprised when a small laugh left the kitsune beside you. “We can discuss that later… for now…” he pushed up again, rolling onto his side and resting his hand on your abdomen. “I apologize for not asking your permission.” this time you were the one to feel your face grow warm, hand raising to wave him off. “Don’t worry about it, it’s fine really!” You squeaked, watching him sigh before moving to grab your hand and bring it to his lips. “I’ll do better next time, pretty witch.” 

You nodded, finding it useless to try and ease his worries, he was set in his ways. “Thank you.” you sighed as he let go, moving to get off of your bed to find something to clean you with. 

“Why don’t we just take a bath? Easier than you rummaging around my bathroom.” you pushed yourself up, grimacing as the ache was starting to spread to your muscles. 

“If a bath is what you want, a bath is what you’ll get.” 

You had to admit, he was certainly better than the black cat you had initially tried to summon. 

@monster-october-kny-2023

[jinjeriffic]

DC x DP prompt/ficlet

Throwing my hat in the ring with this idea that has been doing the zoomies in my brain for days. The Tim/Danny Accidental Ghost Marriage to Fake Dating to Friends to Lovers AU:

Pariah Dark was a piece of shit. Before his imprisonment, mortals would sometimes manage to bargain with the Ghost King for scraps of power. One of the "standard" deals was to send PD a "Bride" to play with and feed on (because I HC he feeds on fear and pain) and what better way than a little mortal battery that couldn't get away from him? The deal was sealed with a cursed amulet. Now in one instance, the contract was never fulfilled (maybe the petitioner died before he could complete his half) and the amulet was lost. After Pariah was imprisoned and couldn't make deals anymore the knowledge of the rituals needed was gradually forgotten since they didn't work anymore...

Eventually the amulet gets dug up by archeologists (maybe in Egypt or Mesopotamia?) and ends up in a traveling exhibit in Gotham. A Rogue robs the place (Riddler? Two-Face? doesn't really matter). When the Bats show up to foil the robbery, during the fight with the goons a drop of Red Robin's blood gets on the amulet, there's a blinding flash of green light and the amulet is suddenly glued to him.

While everyone is dazed by the ghostly magic flashbang, Fright Knight pops out of a portal, yoinks Red Robin across his saddle and jumps back through the portal before anyone can stop him. Cue the Bats trying to frantically figure out what in the multi-dimensional occult hell happened and where RR went?!

Meanwhile, Danny is disturbed to receive a ghostly missive in his college dorm to tell him that his Mail Order Bride has been delivered to his Ghost Zone Palace and is awaiting him so they can consummate their Unholy Matrimony.

----------------

Danny: Wtf I have to study I don't have time to get MARRIED

Fright Knight: I'm sorry my liege, but according to the laws of ghosts, gods and magic you already ARE

Danny: Wtf. How did this happen?

RR: I would like to know that too

Danny: Oh shit, you're a superhero. Frighty, you can't just kidnap people! Especially not SUPERHEROES!

RR: While that's good to hear, I would really like to know about this supposed marriage..?

FK: I am not aware of the exact details, I was merely summoned to retrieve the Bride of the Ghost King. There used to be standard magical contracts for this, which went into effect when the Bride bled on the King's Token...

RR: Shit

Danny: Hold on, PARIAH got married? Multiple times??

FK: ...but we can always consult the Royal Archivist, if we can dig him out from under the several thousand years worth of paperwork that piled up while there was no King actively ruling...

Danny: Oh ancients, am I gonna have to deal with that?? I have exams to prepare for, dude!

RR: ...the dead still have to do exams? And paperwork?? *horror*

-------------

Some time and explanations later...

Royal Archivist: It took some digging, but I believe I have found the contract in question. You are one Timothy Drake-Wayne, correct?

Tim: Fml

RA: Ahem. The contract was sealed with your mortal blood, as is standard procedure. Congratulations, you are officially King-Consort of the Infinite Realms! Until death do you part, and all that

Danny: Can I see that contract? ...This isn't in English

RA: Oh dear, looks like we will have to schedule your Royal Highness classes in reading cuneiform/hieroglyphics

Tim: Okay, does it say anywhere in that contract how to dissolve it? What's the procedure for a ghost divorce? Fright Knight mentioned the previous king being married multiple times

RA: Well usually, when Pariah tired of a consort he would simply devour their soul...

Danny: Ewwwww I am so not doing that

Tim: I concur. I can't imagine my soul would taste good anyway

Danny: That's what you took from that??

RA: ...but when you die and your soul passes into the Afterlife proper, the contract will be fulfilled. As long as you're not resurrected again.

Tim: Nuts, there goes that loophole

RA: Until then you are the Consort and duty-bound to fulfill his Royal Highness' every whim; ghostly, spiritual, carnal...

Danny: *sinks through the floor in embarrassment*

Tim: Can't he just... release me from the contract? Take the amulet off me or something?

RA: Not without obliterating your soul, no

Danny and Tim: Fuck

--------------

Some time later, while Danny is away consulting other ghosts on possible ways of dissolving the contract, they discover the nasty little clause that if Tim isn't in regular physical contact with Danny the amulet starts draining his life force. To prevent victims from escaping you see... Danny really really hates Pariah right now.

They eventually return to the mortal plane to explain to the Batfam what the hell is going on and that they're still trying to fix it. In the meantime, Danny can't miss any more classes (studying areospace engineering at MIT or sth) and Tim has to stick close to him because of the curse...

Alfred: Oh dear, looks like Master Timothy will have to go to college after all *unflappable British Smugness*

Bruce pulls a lot of strings to fast track Tim getting his high school diploma and let him attend classes with Danny (he's not officially enrolled yet, but Money, Dear Boy). They never know when Danny has to respond to a ghost emergency or Red Robin to a Bat emergency, so they stay pretty much joined at the hip in their civilian lives. Of course there's gonna be rumors. Why did the Wayne CEO suddenly drop everything to go to college? So they make up a story about Danny and Tim having been secret boyfriends for a while and Tim becoming so smitten that he moves with him to Boston...

Cue the fake dates, interviews with magazines, couple photoshoots to really sell the bit... and the two young men gradually becoming friends... and then "Feelings?? But what do I do?? He was forced into this?" etc.

[intriguingpeoplebyangelafloyd]

JULIUS CAESAR & ANCIENT ROME

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DAZE WITH JORDAN THE LION

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