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i-drop-level-one-loot · 8 months

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Hun something else I want to ask is if you would do a hybrid dragon Yan..? Forgot to mention it in the last ask because I forget ideas a lot <3

-from the one anon who said to use 3 names you like :)!

P.s I’ll probably refer to myself as this forever now hun

I'm sorry this took so long!! Here it is:

CW: mild violence, video game logic

Yandere!Dragon x GN!Reader

The winds in the mountains were cold enough to slice open skin and leave blisters.

Traveling up towards the sky was (Reader), a warrior known throughout the lands for their incredible feats, climbing up the snowy pass towards the dark splotch on their map.

The dragon's lair.

Only human in appearance, (Reader) had slaughtered almost every type of monster and fiend in the continent, sending fear through all living beings. They were rumored to be immortal, since they seemed to be capable of recovering from any wound they received, no matter how critical. Whatever life threatening hit they took, and no matter how certain their death seemed to be, (Reader) would only black out, waking a few hours later. A warrior without a past, without a home, who only lived to kill.

Slaying a dragon would be the last creature on the killer's list, having already defeated deities and apocalypse level threats. It wasn't that a dragon would be harder than killing a god; they just hadn't gotten around to it.

In the grand scheme of life, dragon slaying would be a side quest.

(Reader) doubted that the battle would be difficult in any sort of sense; aside from their incredible physical attributes they also had legendary gear such as "the Ring of Absolution" which was forged from the tears of a Golden Warrior. That ring alone made it impossible for enemies to block their attacks or use "break out" to parry.

Upon finding the cave and entering recklessly, (Reader) wished that someone had told them sooner:

That "when you're at the top, the only place to go is down.."

A blast of fire knocked their helmet off their head as the heat pushed them back. Shocked (and a little excited) the warrior raised their vampiric sword. Inside the cave, a giant red and golden dragon sat posed, muscles tense and eyeing the invader with intrigue.

"Who are you, to enter my home?" His deep voice sounded more confused than offended. And when (Reader) pointed their weapon at him in response, he chuckled. "Adorable little human, if you wish to live a long life, leave this cave now, and I shall spare you."

(Reader) shouted, igniting a glowing light around their body, then lunged, slashing at the beast.

To the dragon's surprise it hurt.

"Foul little thing!" He snarled, attempting to blast the human with another bolt of flames (this time not as a warning) but the fighter rolled out of the way, effectively dodging the attack. (Reader) thrust again, angering the dragon when he found that he could not block the sword, the blade passing his harder scales and hitting his soft flesh despite his guarding.

Amidst the rage and frustration a new emotion began forming within the centuries young being; respect.

There were no dragons he wished to associate with, there were no creatures that approached him of their own free will. He was alone. For a very, very long time. For he was not just a dragon..

He was Targov the Malicious.

A dragon of legend, ender of nations, killer of kings..

And his health was slowly being chipped away by the steel of a mortal.

(Reader) did not know who the dragon was, only that this was the closest location for a dragon nest.

"Small human.. I have a proposition for you."

The warrior paused, tilting their head as they waited for the dragon to continue.

"You have impressed me, and you have earned my admiration. So I offer you a chance at life eternal: become my mate, and ascend to a higher state of being.

You shall never want nor need for anything. I will be your willing servant for all of eternity."

It wasn't the first proposal (Reader) had received, yet it was certainly the first from a beast. They stepped back a fraction as though his words caused them to stumble. His request sounded so genuine that it almost killed their blood lust.

Almost.

Disappointment and betrayal filled the dragon's eyes as (Reader) suddenly threw their sword like a spear, lodging it into Targov's chest, a feather's distance shy of his heart. But even that only further fueled the growing need he had for the mortal. And the obvious solution to the warrior's resistance was to make the choice easier for them.

Targov flew forward, but instead of attacking like (Reader) had predicted, he grappled the human in his talons and continued faster, propelling them both out of the cave and into the sky as he built speed.

The wind jostled the surprised human about like a rag doll as they rose higher into the atmosphere. Their ears popped painfully, but they could still hear the roaring laughter of the dragon.

"HA! Now what do you say, human?! Shall you be mine? Or shall I drop you?!" He held the adventurer loosely by the fabric visible under their armor in an attempt to frighten them. But what he saw next made his heart falter.

His eyes widened as (Reader) smiled triumphantly, raising a dagger while maintaining eye contact, and sliced off the part of their outfit Targov held onto, willingly allowing themselves to fall.

It was just a fall.

Yeah, it would hurt. It would hurt like a son of a bitch, but (Reader) knew they wouldn't die. They never did.

However, their near immortality was something that Targov didn't know about.

Before his emotions could fully form into separate feelings, Targov dove, recatching the little human, now with a more secure grip, and flew back to his home, his heart beating a billion beats per second once it restarted.

(Reader) was thrown to the floor by the dragon seconds before being blinded by a bright flash. The dragon was consumed in a bright white glow that illuminated the cave, morphing into a more human appearance, with deep golden skin and red hair. His horns and claws still remained, but as (Reader) could see clearly from his lack of clothes, was now mostly human. He charged towards (Reader), face twisted in his confusing mix of emotions. Anger, shock, hurt, feelings his adrenaline wouldn't give him time to categorize as he closed in on the confused human.

He hoisted (Reader) up by their neck.

"You'd really rather die than be mine?!" The enraged dragon screamed.

Struggling to breathe, the warrior grabbed one of his scaly hands while trying to smack his face with their dominant hand.

The glint of their ring caught Targov's attention, who recognized it instantly. He had been alive for a very long time, and killed many a god during his rebellious years. Sharp teeth sunk into (Reader's) fingers, the dragon biting their hand lightly, suddenly, earning a shocked cry from the struggling human. Targov dropped (Reader), pulling the ring off their finger with his fangs as he did so.

The warrior didn't notice their missing ring until they regained their composure and attempted to attack the humanoid dragon, who blocked their attack perfectly fine.

Targov wore the ring on his smallest claw.

"I see I was right about you.." His deep voice chuckled, but (Reader) couldn't tell if it was out of amusement or fury. "A fellow God killer.. who better suited to be my mate?"

He grabbed (Reader's) wrist, and despite it's low speed, the ring prevented (Reader) from dodging.

"Welcome home, my mate."

"Even if I have to break you, I will have you. And you will learn to love me."

#sorry this took so long #ive been so busy #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere dragon #yandere dragon x reader #gn reader #video game logic #short drabble #dragon hybrid #dragon x reader

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loganlermanstanaccount · 1 year

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Kinktober 2023

ok so i have very last minute decided to write some spooky stuff for October and these are the fics I've got planned for the next few weeks!

please don't kill me mr ghostface - murders on campus. the odd toothbrush goes missing. what's new, honestly. life keeps ticking and you end up at a Halloween party somewhere you shouldn't. there, you meet a gorgeous man in a strange mask. he seems sweet, and all you're looking for is a bit of fun. what could go wrong?

(stalker!Miguel x reader, slight yandere undertones. he's a murderer lowkey but very gentle and sweet and scary hot that's all guys I promise.)

trick or treat - Mr O'Hara is the nicest man you've ever met. Sweet, kind; he always makes sure to overpay you whenever you babysit Gabriella. He's never out later than he says, and sometimes you stay a little longer for a coffee and a chat after she heads to bed. After a couple months spent silently pining over the stoic man, you're asked to take the graveyard shift - trick or treating with his daughter. And if you happen to stay a little longer - drinks and some dinner with Mr O'Hara - well, who can blame you?

(dilf!Miguel x babysitter!reader. slight daddy kink, age gap, gentle dom Mig. wanted to try my hand at this dynamic cuz i think its hot asf)

M a n e a t e r - Night in Nueva York. A deep underbelly that only one Miguel O'Hara can traverse - in all its stinking, bloody glory. Vampires run rampant, pulling strings in the highest echelons of society and rattling around at the lowest. He's a recluse, hunting the worst creatures of the night. For months, he's been on the trail of a notorious killer, tracking the trail of blood from its source. You're a doctor; haematologist by trade, frequenter of the city morgue, and a regular connect of Miguel's. After a particularly brutal killing; the two of you find yourselves intertwined - bonding over late nights and city lights. When one thing leads to another; he can't help but think... has the answer to this case been under his nose the whole time?

(vampire hunter!Miguel x reader - apart of a halloween collab event! i rewatched blade and blade runner 2099 so i am about to be so soo annoying about it. Dark themes, slight femdom, violence, etc etc)

#miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #kinktober #miguel o hara x reader #spiderman 2099

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headspace-hotel · 1 year

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How would one write a work of horror fiction about Lawns?

I think there may have been a post saying this, but it's stuck with me: just as zombies, vampires, monsters, and serial killers embodied deep fears within culture at the time they were extremely popular, I think the iconic horror monster of the upcoming years might be the Backrooms.

No, no not like in the crappy indie games about the Backrooms, where there are monsters everywhere. I mean like in this youtube video where it is simply a quiet, empty, endless labyrinth of rooms that superficially appear to be human-made, but they have strange, arbitrary layouts and forms, and there is no sign of the essential processes of life—no food, no place to sleep, no recognizable living spaces.

The place itself is the monster. Though it appears familiar and human, it is as fundamentally hostile to human life as the surface of Mars. Though it appears like a place purposefully designed for human needs, none of the basic resources and facilities for meeting human needs are apparent. It is something much worse, much more indifferent and at the same time much more hateful, than an uncaring and unforgiving wilderness.

Imagine, then, a sidewalk bordered by uniform green lawn, running alongside wide stretches of asphalt road. Imagine the sidewalk continuing on to meet other sidewalks, branching and intersecting in strange, illogical patterns. Imagine broad stretches of uniform green under a relentless warm sun and blue sky, no birdsong, no insects.

Imagine green grass with no dandelions, no clovers, perfectly lush and homogenous, surrounded by sidewalks that separate other plots of flat green turf, all perfect, bordering curbs that drop off into roads which stretch steadily toward the horizon, surrounded by sidewalks and green grass, splitting off into other roads that travel through a similar landscape, green and crisscrossed with paths. In every direction, this is all you see.

You keep walking, steadily following the sidewalk. Sidewalks branch and meet each other strangely, sometimes diagonally crossing lush strips of lawn, sometimes pivoting to meet the street and resuming on the other side. Some stretches of road have a broad green median also covered with green grass. In some places, there are neat mounds of black mulch around the base of perfectly trimmed yew bushes. The sun is warm—very warm.

Any perceptible grade to the ground seems to lead to a storm drain, in which there is no sign of water. Water is all you can think about. How long have you been walking? Your surroundings appear the same. You finally notice a stretch of grass that appears to be freshly wet, as though recently watered, and you are nearly prepared to lick any moisture you can collect off the grass blades, but a strange thought stops you.

Why, you think, does this grass appear so spotless, uniform and green...?

#random #lawns

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imaslutforwritingshit · 1 year

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Edward Cullen Imagine (F!Reader)

Y’all this took 2 hours 😨

WARNING- smut, biting, oral (m receiving)

PART ONE

Fem. Reader-

Name: Calypso Sawyer (Callie)

Origin- From New Mexico, came to Forks with her father. Had just been introduced as Edward’s girlfriend to the Cullen family<3 A human girl, similar dynamic with Edward, and personality as Bella (but not as y/n tropey as Bella acted💀)

EDWARD CAN READ CALLIE’S MIND*

He just fell in love with her cuz she’s hot af

Setting- The Cullen Mansion

“I think I have to go now.”

Edward furrowed his perfect eyebrows, a tug of smile reaching his lips. “That’s not really necessary, Calypso.”

God, the way my name sounded on his lips made me wild.

I forced myself to think straight. “But Alice and Jasper already left. Emmett says he’s about to, too.”

Edward chuckled, a sweet, soft sound. “Jasper’s only leaving because you smell so mouthwatering. He wouldn’t want you to leave on his behalf. Stay.” The last words felt urgent on his tongue, and a sudden jolt of electricity ran through my veins.

Staying, at Edward’s house.

Alone with him.

Maybe I should be scared that I’m going to be alone with a vampire. A cold blooded killer.

But I’m more terrified of what I’ll do around him. The way he makes my senses heighten, and the rest of the world disappear. How he makes my heart feel close to bursting with a brush of his fingers.

I’m scared of myself.

“I don’t know, Edward.” The lie felt far-away in my mouth.

Edward’s smile faded, and he repositioned his body on the large bookshelf. “Because of me?” The look in his eyes told me he had read the words in my mind, the fear I felt, even if it wasn’t directed to him.

“No!” I rushed the words out, and stood off the sofa to touch his face, leaning my body to his shoulders. “No, anything but you. I just don’t want to mess this up.”

Edward laughed, a heavenly vibration on my neck. The small gesture warmed my insides. “You can’t mess this up, Callie. Nothing you could do would pull me away from you.”

I looked up at him. The strong line of his jaw, those predatory, bewildering amber eyes. My gaze wandered to the soft curves of his lips, and I couldn’t help myself when I leaned in.

He gripped my lower back in response, pulling me closer as we kissed. He was delicate, careful with his movement as always, but the intoxicating tease of his tongue on mine was different. He explored my mouth with a new passion, trailing his fingers on my waist. I shivered at the cold, yet exhilarating touch. Edward immediately coiled back, his chest rising and falling quickly from the touch.

“Are you okay?” I knew he already understood I was okay, the light in his eyes proving he already read my mind.

I almost laughed. “Yes, God. I’m okay, Edward.” A playful smile reached my lips, and I grabbed the collars of his shirt, letting my warm fingertips slide over his neck.

The feeling of my skin caused Edward to tilt his head back roughly, the clench of his jaw stronger. His tussled hair spread on old books rearranged on his shelf, and he closed his eyes, like my fingers were blades.

The room was blanketed in a heavy softness, so comfortable I pushed even more, letting my fingers fall to the smooth lines of his collarbones.

“Fuck, Callie!” Edward pushed away from me, and rushed his body to the balcony with supernatural speed, grabbing the railings with brutal strength. I stared with shock as his his body heaved with breath, the thin fabric of his grey shirt untucked from his dark blue slacks.

I covered my mouth and backed up. “Shit, is it my blood?” I hadn’t stopped to consider what my scent could have done to him. I even wore an extra layer of perfume to try to offset it, but it might’ve made it worse.

Edward turned around, walking to me in quick strides, and I fell back on the sofa. He kneeled in front of me, balancing his body on his palms on the cushion.

“That’s not what’s driving me crazy right now.”

I leaned closer, letting my lips part slightly. “Then what is it?”

Edward dropped his head from my eyesight, and curled his fingers near my own. “Vampires, especially males,” Edward lowered his voice, struggling to get the words out. “We go through potent episodes of…lust.”

My mouth fell open, and I manually forced my jaw to shut. “What?” My voice was an octave higher. “Like… in heat?”

Edward laughed a dry, humorless laugh. “Yeah, you could say that.” His eyes met mine, the predatory color returning, like the way he had looked at me the first day we met.

I unconsciously almost moved back, but decided against it. Curiosity dared me to ask the next words. “So…um-how do you… take care of it?”

Edward’s hands snaked to my fingers, casually tracing circles on my knuckles. “How any guy would. Calypso, I’m still 17 in body.”

My face burned. The thought of Edward touching his body, pleasuring his self- it was too much to bear. Edward saw the blush on my face, and his nails dug into my fingers. His jaw was clenched so strongly I thought it would break, and his eyes had a dark coat of desire. He looked so desperate, a biological need for my body on his. So desperate for me. I could practically feel my mind, naked for him, all the images of his body spilling out of my thoughts.

I spoke before I could stop myself, the husky pitch of my voice unrecognizable.

“I suppose I could help you, then. It’s only fair.”

Those words alone flipped Edward over the edge. His fangs bared white, and he grabbed the small of my back, pulling me to the floor. My thighs landed, kneeled up, hitting the planes of his shoulders. He growled, running his hands over my body in animal-like movements.

“You don’t understand,” he groaned lowly, “what I want to do to you. It would sicken you. Everything I’ve thought about.”

I moaned at his touch, the embarrassment from the sound reaching the burn of my face. But it seemed to affect Edward more than me, because his breath changed into a rapid pace on my shoulder blades.

“I’d do anything for you, Edward.”

It was true.

He let out a breathy sound, and snaked his hands under my shirt, each point of my skin electrified into flame at the smooth pressure of his palm.

“You know what I want to do with you, Callie?” He brought his hand higher under my shirt, just above my ribs.

Desire clouded my vision.

“Show me.”

He exhaled in my ear, and roughly dropped his lips to mine, a strange sensation of cold skin meeting my warm one, causing fire to pop in my mouth.

“I won’t be able to control myself, Calypso.” His voice was so raw, stripped bare. He needed me, now. The very sound set me over the edge.

“I already can’t control myself when I’m around you.” I trailed my fingers from the muscles of his back, all the way to the seam of his pants. I traced the lines holding me back from his body, and he shuddered in the crook of my neck.

And he pushed a sharp sting of pressure on my neck- a bite. Edward breathed heavily, licking the area he drew his fangs in my body.

This was a dangerous, dangerous game. He was biting me so hard, the layers of my skin ripped, but not hard enough to draw blood.

This was a reckless mistake, a taste of his full desire for me.

And fuck, it was attractive. I could feel the area between my thighs throbbing, and I tried to clench my legs together, but his body was practically spreading mine out now.

Edward tenderly kissed the area, then dragged his teeth up my neck, biting just under my jaw. It stung even more this time, and his wet tongue drew circles, making my fingers tremble.

A loud whimper slipped from my mouth, and I dropped my head on his broad shoulder. I could feel the vibrations of his chuckle, and he pulled the fabric of my shirt over my head, a strange confidence washing over him.

“You’re so beautiful, Callie.” His voice had softened, but the low desire still edged on his words, and he let his fingertips meet the clasp of my bra. I gasped, and pushed my palms on his chest. “Please-“

Edward tugged on the lace, a sign to shut me up. “Let me enjoy this. I want you to feel good.”

I was practically leaking out of my panties now, and I prayed to God it didn’t show from my shorts.

He undid the bra, carefully letting the lace fall off my body. The cold air met my already hard nipples, and I fought the urge to cover my body.

I felt so vulnerable. But I liked it. Feeling vulnerable for him.

Edward didn’t hide the breathy moan in his throat, and he kissed my breasts, starting from the low curve to the area near my collarbone. “You’re so perfect, it’s driving me insane. Insane.”

But his hands were grasped tighter around me, nails practically poking through my skin. I knew he was getting impatient.

I pushed him off, gentle enough to be kind, but strong enough to send a message. He wiped his mouth, the swell of his pink lips shining in the light of the open room.

“Get on the bed.” I paused, and added a sweet plead to my tone. “Please.”

Edward slowly rose to his feet, holding the tips of my fingers, but his eyes didn’t rise off my bare body. I could feel the blood rushing to my face.

He sat on the edge of the bed, spreading his legs effortlessly. I watched the strong muscles of his thighs, then trailed my eyes higher, to the bulge in his pants.

Shit.

He leaned back on his arms, a cocky expression smoothing over his features. He was watching me, seeing what I was going to do.

But the urgency in his eyes didn’t fade, and I knew one thing, and one thing only.

I wanted to please him.

I dropped to my knees, and Edward immediately raised his body, closing his knees a little. I pushed the top of his thigh open, and he relaxed tentatively.

“Callie, you don’t have to-“

I rose my eyes to his, hoping the innocent expression would get him to stop talking. It did. His words caught when he stared back down at my breasts, and he shifted his legs uncomfortably to try to hide the reaction of his body.

A smile danced on my lips, and I pulled down the zipper of his pants. He was so big, and I hadn’t even seen his boxers yet.

I wondered if this ever happened before, if he had ever gotten hard to the thought of me.

“Yes. It did. And I have.” Edward smiled, savoring the embarrassment on my face.

The fact he read my mind, heard those thoughts,

I didn’t hesitate when I pulled down his pants.

He was wearing dark grey boxers, clean and neat around his lean frame. His cock was pressing against the fabric, the shape almost being explicit against his underwear.

His voice was thick with mockery. “Do you need me to help you, pretty girl? You seem a little nervous.”

I ripped those off, too.

His cock sprang up, and wo-ow, his body is probably entirely perfect. A pink head, delicately sculpted on his thick shaft, the entire shape veiny, like some work of art, smooth, pale skin twitching with anticipation.

He laughed, the admiration of his dick apparently seeping through my thoughts. I slowly let my fingers wrap around it, and Edward’s breath hitched. I brought my body closer, the points of my nipples grazing over his knees, and I let my mouth touch the tip of his cock. He immediately arched his neck, throwing his head back as if every small touch was causing him overwhelming pleasure. I could see the way his hands were gripping the sheets, and I suddenly wished he was grabbing my hair, instead.

As if he was reading my mind, (he was), Edward let his hand drag on my scalp, urging my mouth to go farther.

I dropped my lips, pushing his dick to the back of my throat, but the length of his shaft was too much for me to fit all the way. Edward didn’t make any complaints, though, because he was too busy trying to control the raspy moans slipping from his tongue.

“That’s it. Yeah, good-“ he broke into a low groan, bucking his hips forward. “Good girl.”

The pet name had me bobbing my head even more, warming his entire dick with the saliva of my mouth. I could feel Edward’s eyes on me, taking in the skin of my back, the feeling of my lips. He clenched the scalp of my hair, and began pushing my head on his body, working my mouth the way he wanted.

He forced my head down, dropping it all the way on his dick, and I made myself take it all instead of gagging. He jerked my head up, over and over, each thrust of his hips in my mouth messier and shorter, as if he was close already. His dick warmed the back of my throat, but he pulled my lips all the way up, saliva coating my tongue. Edward’s eyes were pools of black now, so dark it slightly terrified me.

Whatever episodes of lust he was talking about, he must’ve hit his peak now. It seemed like he was on the brink of destroying me.

“Get up.” His voice was hoarse, and his mouth twitched with the words.

As soon as I did, Edward used his strength to slam me to the couch, letting my stomach hit the cushion. I repositioned my head, trying to meet his eye, but he crawled on top of me, and whispered low in my ear,

“The way I’m about to make you scream, my love, is gonna hurt way more than my cock in your pretty throat.”

Part TWO here

#smut #twilight #edward cullen #edward cullen smut #twilight fanfiction #twilight fandom #twilight x reader #alice cullen #emmett cullen #carlisle cullen #edward x reader #smut imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #edward cullen x reader #edward cullen x oc #twilight saga

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lazyneonrabbitt · 2 months

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During the month of october, things take a strange turn..

Turn your faves into a bloodthirsty vampire, or a furry werewolf.

Is that Eugene frankensteining a girlfriend? You could have sworn your lover didn't have scaly skin and horns yesterday..

🎃 Come and see. If you dare...

This October we write about all things spooky and scary, but also tooth rotting sweet! A new writing event for anyone who likes to join.

Each week has its own theme to write about and post. From drabbles to full lenght fics, all is welcome!

The Scedule

The tag for this event is #SpookyTWD24

Make sure to tag your works appropriately, including nsfw/dark or gore themes.

Werewolves and Witches are sharing the spot under the moonlight this week. Magic and potions are flowing through the night skies.

It’s the Vampires’ time to shine! But not as bright as the freshly sharpened Slasher blades. Killers run wild and sacrifices are made this week.

Devils and demons walk among the living! A perfect time for monster lovers, or readers maybe? Frankenstein away, meet creatures of myth!

It’s almost time, so carve those pumpkins and get the costumes ready. Prepare those candy apples for all the hungry trick or treaters!

For any questions, my DMs and inbox are open!

#writing event #the walking dead #twd #halloween #rick grimes #daryl dixon #michonne #carol peletier #negan smith #twd x reader #daryl dixon x reader #rick grimes x reader #negan x reader #twd fanfiction #twd imagine #spookyTWD24

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luvlyycy · 7 months

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h a v e f u n . . . . ! !

next page . ->

ONE PUNCH MAN — (active)

Aftermath, Garou fingered you so hard his wound opened.

MHA — (extremely active)

Dabi's face when he cums.

um, idk questionable stuff?? :

Tomura has cameras in your dorm room.

How Tomura dates you.

college!au:

Late night cuddling with your boyfriend, Tomura.

Tomura's first kiss.

Taking care of Tomura.

Tomura's mommy kink.

Cuddling with Tomura after he games.

Dabi loves giving you princess treatment.

Jacking off Tomura in class

Face-Sitting with the college loser, Tomura.

Maybe that one pathetic guy, is kinda hot. Tomura, right?

— — ☆

Tricking Keigo into buying food for you !!

DEATH NOTE — (semi-active)

Light helps you understand, killing yourself isn't right .

VALORANT — (semi- active)

Iso N Yoru boyfriend hcs ! (sfw!)

Vampire ! Agents Series —

¹ Yoru — ,

ONE PIECE — (semi-active)

Law n his fucked out gf

Sleepy Bath Sex with Zoro <3

Cocky Law..

Ace makes his gf squirt for the first time .

Sanji barks for you.

'Helping' Zoro work out.

Backshot King : Ace .

Zoro's a ruff fucker .

Sanji loves boobs .

Sanji Eating Pussy Trilogy : 1 , 2 , 3

Mihawk loves to spoil you .

Law cums soooo much .

Katakuri's cock is extremely big .

Ass Eater Ace.

Soft Sleepy Zoro ..

Law fucks like he hates you !

Nami n Robin threesome [wlw]

Zoro Loves the number Three .

Zoro n Sanji eatin u out !

Law Is kinda Pathetic .

Happy Birthday, Sanji .

Sanji Can't keep his hands to himself.

————ᵔ ∇ ᵔ

Law scolds you for eating chocolate.

Law is ugly .. in a pretty way.

Sanji's got a crush,, but you're like him?

Kissing Zoro on the ship.

Ace plays with you hair.

Sleeping with Ace is so frustrating.

Zoro confesses !

JUJUTSU KAISEN — (semi-active)

Yuuta's breeding kink (short)

Nyasty Sugu (short)

Jacking off Ino Takuma <3

God, Suguru— It won't fit !

Satoru: The pussy kisser.

Her or Him?? [TojiKuna x Reader // pt 1.]

————ᵔ ∇ ᵔ

Comfort me, Sukuna.

What do your tats mean, Kuna?

Show me your piercings, Kuna?

Why do you wear rings, Kuna?

Face Masks, Kuna?

TEKKEN — (non-active)

What being loved by Lee Chaolan is like.

Claudio .. how I love.

Lee loves pussy.

Eating pussy headcanons .

BLEACH — (active)

college au ! :

Ulquiorra meets you at a college party.

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

Ichigo eating pussaayy

Ichigo with a daddy kink is unrivaled, i fear.

Renji with a girl who yaps !

STREET FIGHTER — (semi-active)

A.K.I is good at what she does . .

Ed : Breaking your back.

Sheeshhhh, Ed !

Ed is so damn fine .

———— ᵔ ∇ ᵔ

2000's Night at the club with Ed!

Ed dating a pink girl .

HOYOVERSE — (semi-active)

Arataki Itto fingers his lil sister !!

Stupid, Childe.. stop teasing.. [college!au]

Nasty, pervert brother — stupid, Childe!!

Sampo n Aventurine: Pussy Killers .

Sampo can't stop eating pussy !!!

Big Bro!Gallagher fingers his lil sister..

Blade's thick cock .

Ugh, Step-Bro!Childe..

Wriothesely n his bimbo .

DC UNIVERSE — (semi-active)

Arkham Knight!Jason jacks off.

Hate-Sex with Jason Todd.

———— ᵔ ∇ ᵔ

Chubby!Reader x Jason Todd <3

Jason 'Brat Dad' Todd.

Jason comes home at 3AM

MISC — (randos..)

KOF Men × Smutty Scenarios

Domon Kasshu's ears turn red when flustered.

League of Legends Kayn : Backshot Demon .

Hidan's dirty talk.

Having sex with Hidan includes...

Toxic Pokemon Men : Piers , Raihan .

———— ᵔ ∇ ᵔ

Venom loves you too.

Miguel O'hara being your chew toy.

Maybe Miguel has a biting kink..

Like what you read? Nice , here's some cake ! 🍰

You have a request? Here's my rules , 🍪 , now you can request here , 🍩 . Thank you !

(ﾉ^∇^)ﾉ !! nonnies !! — , 🐦‍⬛, 🍪 , 🥥 , 🫀 , 🩰, 🪼 !!

#navigation #cycy's nav !#v. ronica — navigation .

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swissmissficrecs · 5 months

Text

A-Z Johnlock Tropes

This time it's all the tropes in my favorite fics! Limited to one fic per author, and I tried to include other authors than on my A-Z classics list.

A lternate Universe(s) - A Vintage Exceptionally to Your Liking by EmmyAngua (95K, E): A love story across alternate dimensions.

B DSM - Shames and Praises by s0mmerspr0ssen (51K, E): D/s AU with Dom!John / sub!Sherlock.

C rossover - More Things Than Are Dreamt Of by 1electricpirate (37K, M-E): HP crossover with Wizard!John / Muggle!Sherlock.

D omesticity - Where Else Would I Be? by cwb (34K, E): Retirement in Sussex with flashbacks.

E stablished Relationship - Breakable Not Broken by MissDavis (227K, E): Dealing with permanent injury together.

F uture - Software Malfunction by tiger_in_the_flightdeck (16K, E): Sherlock is a Companion android with a malfunction.

G en - The Green Blade by verityburns (72K, T): Serial killer casefic.

H istorical - The Beast of Baskerville by Mildredandbobbin (74K, E): 15th Century/fairy tale AU.

I llness - On Pins and Needles by 7PercentSolution, J_Baillier (588K, G-E): Sherlock contracts Guillain-Barré syndrome.

J ealousy - White Knight by DiscordantWords (69K, M): Sherlock fakes a relationship with Janine, to John's distress.

K idfic - Intentions by KeelieThompson1 (216K, G-M): Sherlock discovers he is the father of 10-year-old John.

L ongfic - Sketchy by serpentynka (876K, E): Johnlock and Mycroft/OMC slow-burn casefic(s).

M agical Realism - Shatter the Darkness (Let the Light In) by MojoFlower (109K, E): Sherlock is a djinn.

N SFW - The Great Sex Olympics of 221B by XistentialAngst (58K, E): Sherlock and John compete to see who's better at sex.

O megaverse - The Illusion of Control by starrysummernights (253K, E): Alpha!Sherlock / Omega!Johnwith mpreg.

P arentlock - The James Holmes Chronicles by prettyvk (338K, T-E): Sherlock and John raise Moriarty's son.

Q ueer Representation - The Adventure of the Consulting Woman by DancingGrimm (56K, E): Trans character assists in a case.

R etirement - Through the Clouds by Mazarin221b (20K, E): Sherlock and John retire to Sussex.

S oulmates - Colors by Quesarasara (140K, E): When you meet your soulmate, you finally see the world in color.

T eenlock - The Frost is All Over by Chryse (148K, E): 19th-century AU, Sherlock is an Earl's son and John is a commoner.

U ndercover - Corpus Hominis by mycapeisplaid (47K, E): Posing as a couple at a spa retreat.

V ampires - Bleed Me Out by antietamfalls (87K, E): Vampire!Sherlock with whump, hurt/comfort, and fluff.

W hump - All the Best and Brightest Creatures by wordstrings (188K, E): Moriarty is back and out for blood.

X enomorphism - Names for the Galaxy by evadne (191K, E): 22nd-century Alien!Sherlock.

Y enta* - May Your Heart Purr Like A Bumblebee by destinationtoast (14K, M): Harry helps Johnlock happen.

Z oomorphism** - The Horse and His Doctor by khorazir (128K, T): Vet!John and Horse!Sherlock.

*Used here to mean a female character playing matchmaker. Y-word tropes are hard, you guys!

**Not sure this is technically correct, but I'm using it here to mean fics in which a character has animal form. Z-word fanfic tropes are also hard and I already used zombies on my previous list!

#rec list #best

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ciphykiss · 1 year

Text

< incubus (ii) >

blade x f!reader; implied nsfw (only un-explicit part), mdni (implied) somnophilia

a/n: second part of incubus, but stave off the thirst for now XD

“Declined.”

You blink, once, twice, dazed—you count every checkered tile in your peripheral vision, wondering if you’d misheard. Bewildered, you straighten from your previously bowed stance, head tilted to the side. Jingyuan pays you no mind, bent over a fortune scroll stamped with Master Diviner Fuxuan’s insignia. Behind him, Yanqing can only stare, wide-eyed.

“Excuse me?”

Those infuriating, once captivating (but now more serpentine than anything else) golden eyes peer up at you, unperturbed. “Upon careful evaluation, it has been deemed that [Name] of Cloudford’s maximum security detention center is to remain deployed at her post indefinitely—until the case of the stellaron hunter is sealed and closed.”

“By whom?” You demand, fists clenching the fabric of your dress. “‘Indefinitely’? Exactly how long is that? This is ridiculous, and against the very rights printed on Section 35 of the Luofonian Codex—”

“By me.” Jingyuan rests his scroll atop his checkerboard. “And I’m sure you’re aware by now, but the Codex also states every Arbiter General is free to exempt and circumvent said articles when deemed necessary.”

“You can’t be serious,” you hiss, slamming your hands over the table; you see Yanqing bristle, hands cleaving for his sword, and Jingyuan has to raise a hand to temper his retinue that had, no doubt, risen to their feet and aimed rifles at your head. You pay them no mind; the vampire-bruises from last night sting as a reminder of your paranormal plight, caked under layers of foundation and color corrector. There’s an odd sting that shoots up your left leg, making it slightly difficult to stand upright. “You’re making me a prisoner of the flagship?”

Jingyuan sighs, resting his chin on a hand; ah, it’s that attitude again, all unbridled kindness and fleeting exasperation, like waves atop a morning sea. Over time, it spells more patronizing than it does calming, and urges you to reenact the more violent (and less whorish) parts of your lucid dreams. Your fingers twitch at the sight of his unmarred cheek.

“Why must you always assume the worst of me, my dear assistant?”

A droll stare. “You uprooted a fresh graduate from her position as amicassador, took advantage of her naivete to weasel in mutable terms in her contract, had her work an eight to ten schedule with unpaid overtime, and encouraged said amicassador graduate with no background in combat to cross-examine one of the most wanted criminals in the galaxy.”

“First of all, what you are not paid in overtime is delivered to you in the forms of generous bonuses and an exceptional annual raise,” Jingyuan argues, scandalized by your declarations. Even Yanqing looks to him accusingly now. “And as for your meeting with… our newest problem, well, that’s a result of your own belligerence, isn’t it?” He taps his table with his knuckle, the first signs of irritation stretching over his usually composed visage. “You were instructed to meet with me as soon as you arrived on scene. If you had, I would’ve taken the time to inform you of what you were getting yourself into, and the risks associated.”

You throw your hands up in the air. “Well, fuck me for not considering my employer would throw little old me into a foray of top ten most wanted killers! I don’t know what you want me to say, Jingyuan, especially considering how little regard you’ve shown me for my entire career at your stupid post.” Your lips curl. “And you wonder why your turnover rate looks like it crawled out of Tingyun’s first year exam scores. Unbelievable.”

“Mind your tongue; there are children present,” Jingyuan snaps, but neither you nor his blond heir really give a damn. In fact, Yanqing looks like he’s fighting a smile. At least someone found the situation funny. “Regardless—this is a decision that has been agreed upon by both Diviner Fu and I. Thus, your resignation request has been… well, rescinded.”

His lips twitch into an almost-smile, and despite sounding like he meant official business, you can tell the bastard is enjoying this. You gaze mutely at the hastily-scrawled resignation essays you’d filled out at 6 AM over coffee stains and ink splatters, untouched beside a gold, ornate vase on the Jingyuan’s table; the general raises a brow at your lack of ire, likely expecting glares or creative (but politely-framed, as to not earn a bullet to the back of your head) death threats by now.

Instead, you smile. Jingyuan immediately grows wary.

“Article 6, subsection 23,” you purr, “Any defamation or destruction of property belonging to the Arbiter-General of the Xianzhou Luofu will result in the permanent termination of said civil servant’s contract; punishments include, but may not be limited to, a six-month leave of absence from all organized labor.”

You grin. Jingyuan’s eyes widen.

“...whatever it is you’re planning, do no—”

“I think I’m long overdue for a vacation, don’t you, general?” You sing, and the general and his compatriots can only watch in slack-jawed horror as you raise the vase (an armistice gift from the Marshall Hua) and send it shattering onto the tile.

Deathly silence fills the halls of Jingyuan’s palace. Jingyuan doesn’t look up at you when he speaks, low and gritted, as damningly close to murderous as you’d ever heard him.

“Take her away. Solitary confinement. Two hours—then ensure she returns to her duties. This time, I want completion.”

Your smile drops.

“You—!”

And then you’re thrashing, the ends of your heels digging uselessly into the ground. The stupidly beefy arms of his personal guards yank you backwards to your makeshift cell (the infirmary), preventing you from falling backwards on your face.

“You can’t do this to me!” Your shrieks go unacknowledged; Jingyuan is too busy mourning over his dumb vase. “Jingyuan, you bastard! This is a violation of my rights! Terminate me! Throw me in jail! Anything but back there!”

Yanqing glances over the broken shards glinting over filtered sunlight. “General… is it really okay to let her go like that?”

The silver-haired man sighs, weary and a thousand years older than his already-dreaded age; he picks up a shard and examines it for any signs of salvageability (there are none). “Despite her… grievances, Diviner Fu has already determined her ‘likely favorable but not quite necessary’ for this case. I’m afraid she would’ve had to stay regardless. Though I do wish my dear assistant was even a smidgen more… agreeable.”

“—I knew I should’ve let Tingyun leak your 18+ sauna album! Just you watch, Jingyuan, after I’m through—”

“She has what.”

ꨄ︎

“—so please, for the love of all Aeons, I don’t care if it’s your stripper alias or Foxian Beauty & Haircare handle, just please, give me something to work with,” you groan, finding yourself at the mercy of the selectively mute space murderer with both your clothes and hair disheveled from fighting off (clawing at) Jingyuan’s men. Your throat aches from two hours of screeching obscenities, begging for mercy, and finally, prayer (unfortunately, you’d never been pious, and Lan had likely forsaken you by now). You’d thrashed, flipped the nursing cot upside down, shattered glass vials against the walls, and fallen to a half-dead heap on the floor by the time you were dragged in to resume bio-data collection.

If he registers your incessant whining, the space-criminal doesn’t show it; he says nothing for a long while until the void fills with the sound of incessant pen-tapping against your digital clipboard.

His mouth bends into a frown. “Stop that.”

“So he speaks,” you drawl, sarcastic. “Tell you what—why don’t you share your introductions with the class—me—and I’ll stop yammering. Easy as that.”

“Is it necessary?” He inquires cryptically. “Why don’t you just ask that general of yours—I’m sure Jingyuan would be able to sate your curiosity.”

Your rhythmic tapping ceases. “You know Jingyuan?”

That, he doesn’t answer; you observe him as he lapses back into silence, as dark and brooding as ever before, and feel the welts on your neck itch, an obtrusive reminder of your night terror (your dubbing isn’t quite accurate, but the label makes you feel better about yourself). Then, you resume clacking your pen in tribute to the morning show you’d catch glimpses of on the way to hell (work), and observe the tick working on the man’s jaw.

“...Blade,” he says at last, the word cutting like the edge of a serrated knife; you blink. Blade. The name suits him, somehow—all edge and red, like the backdrop of a battlefield. “...but here, Ren.”

You’re tearing through the bio-data form like a storm; two lines is enough. You’ll make it enough. Blade/Ren. Affiliation: likely Xianzhounian. Fabric points to a prime of at least five-hundred years prior; further trace collection is needed. Picture comparison of clothing necessary for evaluation. Suspected relation with Luofu General—unsure if this is an attempt to derail from questioning/true identity. Unlikely, but possible. Discouraged communication style. Psychiatric evaluation necessary; put-off by rhythmic tapping. Likely suffers from heightened senses; could be a result of battle-trauma or mixed genetics (both?). Likely a Xianzhou Native; probable Homo celestinae, blood testing required for confirmation.

“Blade,” you murmur, and the name rests oddly comfortably in your mouth; a strange moniker, but it sounds almost sweet when you say it, as if meant to be spoken. The man—Blade—shifts, not out of discomfort or regulation, but as the first non-forced physical acknowledgment you’d managed to wrench out from him.

His lips curve into a sneer when you continue scritching.

“All figured out, from just a name,” he mocks. You raise a brow.

“Does that offend you?” You tap your pen in thought, conjuring up the next bullet point. Easily offended by assumptions. Possible insecurity?

To your surprise, he grazes a smile—but not your regular, run-of-the-mill grin. It’s malefic, a touch depraved, like staring into a hollow skull. “No. Fantasize all you want. So as long I ruin you in every end.”

You nearly drop your clipboard.

“I could ruin you,” his voice echoes. “I could make it burn. You would dream of me in the waking world, cry for me in the dreaming. A slave to passion, day and night; hardly sleeping, hardly eating, merely breathing…”

No. Impossible. There’s no way—it can’t be—

Gingerly, you finger the skin over your pulse point. The bruised kiss hisses upon contact; you feel the hummingbird-flutter of your own heartbeat.

“Do you dream?”

You don’t know why you blurt that particular phrase; you suppose it’s more acceptable than “did we almost-fuck in my (our?) dream last night”. Still, you observe the intergalactic space criminal with heightened scrutiny, wishing (now more than ever) he didn’t have that cursed blindfold on.

You never realized just how much is missed from the eyes alone.

If there’s any reaction, he doesn’t show it; his next words are mere remnants of what they should be, like bones atop carcass.

“I do not recall the last I dreamt.”

You swallow, the first needles of paranoia sinking into your spine. That should be answer enough. But you wonder why it feels like a dance between confirmation and indifference; anything but denial. Suddenly, you think you hate him; his archaic, cryptic remarks, his riddles and his ambiguity.

“Not worthy enough for recording?” he cuts through the silence, the cruelty of a half-smile gallivanting across your vision. You realize you’d been spaced out, pen hanging between downturned fingers, and curse.

“...think nothing of it,” you mutter. You deem the passage worthy enough for Jingyuan’s approval (it isn’t) and chuck the pen backwards. It dematerializes into the confines of your clipboard. “I should offer you my services once more, but I’m sure neither of us truly wishes for that. A word of advice—behave yourself, and the general might allow you to roam the cell unshackled for certain hours. I’m sure there’s nothing you want more than a hairbrush by now,” you snort. Blade doesn’t reply.

“Danyin,” you murmur, catching the man by his cuff when you exit the hall; he looks frazzled, as if half-expecting you to return with a missing limb (likely a touch disappointed when you don’t; you don’t consider yourself particularly lenient when forced into this scummy duty). “Do me a favor. I want you to place a recording device outside his cell; one of those high-tech thermal ones that can navigate through the dark.”

Danyin pales. “D-digital recordings—any recording—outside what is sanctioned by the general himself is strictly prohibited! I don’t even have cle—”

You unclasp your wristwatch and replace it with Danyin’s own; the man can only babble out a half-hearted protest when you do, mourning his defeat already.

“I’d do it myself, but I’m not exactly out of general douche-canoe’s radar,” you sigh, tightening the clasp. Danyin mumbles something about hiring an underwriter for his will, to which you offer a sunny grin and a pat on the back. “I’m counting on you, friend!”

He mutters something about you being as shitty as Jingyuan. You pretend not to hear it.

ꨄ︎

“A dream demon?” Tingyun snorts, pushing the newly-gifted sunglasses she’d received from a Yaoqing merchant that served as General Feixiao’s retinue down her nose. “You can’t be serious. Please tell me you didn’t make me cancel my hair appointment to play therapist for your psychotic break. How many times did I tell you to just quit and work with me in—”

You yank down the collar of your dress, having wiped off the excess makeup in the restaurant bathroom prior. “Look.”

“For the love of—oh. Oh.” She tilts her frames downwards, viridescent hues assessing the damage. “You got yourself a suckerfish? Careful with those—one starskiff romp shimmied into your lunchbreak and they think they own you.”

“Actually, my very preventable trauma from waking up next to Dai—Daiqiu? Daiqing? Has rendered me unable to pursue any bedmates since,” you sniff. Tingyun rolls her eyes.

“You sure you didn’t wobble into Inferno after your shift and had a couple shots too many? We all know it’s all south after your third martini. And your impairment the following morning.”

“You and I both know I don’t get off until midnight, and you were there when we both got banned from Inferno!”

“Maybe if you hadn’t laughed at the owner’s son and called him fossilized when he asked for a three—”

“He was at least as old as my grandfather, Ting! Without the Jingyuan-tier looks to make up for it!”

“Jingyuan isn’t that old—wait, do you still have a crush on him? What happened to—”

“That’s beside the point!” You swat her hand off the straw of her mid-afternoon cocktail, knocking her jade bracelet against the glass. The heat of it fogs the hexagons scattering rainbows onto the counter, and you are acutely reminded of the matching anklet that dangles on your left, forever warm and secured to your person. “I know you barely passed history—”

“Hey.”

“—but Foxian history can be traced as far back as the Long’s Scions, can it not? Surely there has to be something you picked up over the years. Maybe some old stories, some superstition…”

“[Name],” Tingyun sighs, “are you seriously asking me if I remember any bedtime stories?”

“So there is? Something, I mean?”

“You’re honestly better off taking that to a Vidyadhara historian or a senior Xianzhou Native,” Tingyun admits, to which your face cripples, because Aeons knows your social life had been reduced to zilch after your recruitment (and there was no way you’d press the matter to Jingyuan; you had no doubt he and Diviner Fu could grapple onto the dirtiest details of your midnight escapades). She swishes her drink with her straw in thought. “Foxian lifespans are but fleeting compared to the stories of our other long-lived peers; what are four hundred years, after all, to rebirth and a thousand?”

It’s said with a twinge of envy; you know Tingyun is not like Xianzhou commonfolk who dread their existence and eventual descent to madness. Life is—will never be—enough for her, never enough wine to drink, men to seduce; never enough jewelry and lost merchandise for Whistling Flames.

“We do, however, have our love stories—love and lust and betrayal and wroth, they’re quite similar, don’t you think? And the tales of the Foxians pale in comparison to none.”

“This isn’t about love,” is your immediate response. Tingyun arches a fine brow.

“Isn’t it, though?” With that, she reaches out to redo the buttons on your collar. Heat creeps up your ears. “Passion… this is something Foxians are accustomed with. We love our wine and jade, men and women all the same; I’m sure you know this,” she laughs, and you feel the fox-carving against your anklet simmer. “You know of the Xianzhou belief of soul partners, do you not?”

“Of course.” You reach down, absently, to tickle the jade that had been gifted (shackled) to you on your graduation day. “There’s the, erm, chosen ones, right? Bosom friends, sworn brothers—”

“That’s right; and they’re referred to as chosen for a reason.” She points the end of her olive stick at you. “It is the highest form of love, for some; philia, at the end of the day, is a choice,” she ignores your grumble of “where was mine”, “though, arguably, many believe these soul partners were predestined to be in your life. We gift our jade to these soul partners, and the Vidyadhara share a similar custom, but with bracers; warmth indicates the wearer’s partner is alive and well, and there is a belief that these gifts will eventually bring one back to the other, in life, death, dreams, or otherwise.” She narrows her eyes. “Though there’s no reason, seeing as I’d rather be caught dead than star in your rogue fantasies.”

“Wasn’t ever an option,” you mutter.

“There is another, more outdated; I’ve only ever heard stories about it, and some say the encounter died since the plague of abundance ravaged the long-lived. It’s less of a choice, more a force of nature; or so I’ve been told. A bunch of rubbish, honestly, but there does exist stories of another kind of soul partner—one that embodies a more… debauched role. I suppose soulmate is a loose term; these stories have long since been discarded, scoffed at as crude; these are the stories of scorned lovers, of passion, bedroom woes and death and betrayal; truly, nothing worth writing home about. I’m sure we’ve progressed enough as a society to leave behind such primal relics.”

Your head spins at the sudden onslaught of information; you inhale through your nose, pinching the bridge between two fingers. Tingyun finishes the contents of her drink, suckling the heart-shaped straw dry. “And what… what does that have to do with…”

“With your suckerfish?” Tingyun grins, dodging a kick under the table. “I’m getting to that. There’s a story—just one that I can remember, at least. My Lady wasn’t fond of me rummaging through those particular texts.”

“No wonder you turned out to be so godless—ow!”

“...like I was saying. There exists a…largely banned text. A bit blasphemous, but more so an overreaction, on the elders’ part; I’ll spare you the details, but the story can be loosely translated as The Foxian’s Obsession. Not the most creative of titles, I’ll admit, though it is fitting; it weaves the tale of a long-lived Foxian’s adoration of a short-lived fisherman. The woes of past society would not permit her to seek out a man of such fragility, and eventually, the fisherman married; the Foxian, hurt, enraged, and heartbroken, would curse the fisherman to an eternal sleep.”

“Sounds like one of those ex nightmare stories on Foxian Lipstick Alley,” you chortle.

“Imagine being so obsessed,” Tingyun snorts. “Anyways, the wife and family of the comatose fisherman start seeing ‘love marks’ on him, find him dead one day, bleeding from the mouth; the wife is put on trial until they discover news of said Foxian having passed in her sleep, coincidentally, with the same comorbidity.”

“What the fuck.”

“Creepy, isn’t it? Now, if that were the case with you…”

“Tingyun!” You screech. The Foxian snickers at your distress. “This isn’t funny! What if this dude’s some creepy old Foxy spirit disguising himself as some space criminal hunk to get into my pants and commit murder-sui!”

“Your drawers are in need of a seasonal refresh…”

“Tingyun, you bi—”

“Aeons, relax,” the amicassador slaps your arm in poor reassurance. “These are mere whispers of the past. The first starskiff hadn’t even taken flight when it was published. Besides, does your dream demon present with ears and a tail? You know that’s our one indisputable giveaway…”

“...no, he doesn’t,” you begrudge, a sigh of relief escaping you. Tingyun rolls her eyes.

“Then there you have it. I’m sure this is just a consequence of your ridiculous work hours—how many times must I tell you stress is bad for beauty? You’re even losing pockets of memory…”

“...you’re right. That must be it.”

“So? what happened to your resignation letter?”

“Don’t get me started—”

You vent the happenings of this morning to Tingyun, who, for the first time, appears rather irked; it’s not a common look for the Foxian, as leisurely and unbothered as a nepo-child of Lady Yukong can be, though you suppose even she has her limits on witnessing you falling victim to workplace abuse.

Throughout the conversation, you concoct the margins of your plan; the cameras should be set up by now, if Danyin is at least half-competent. You touch your now-fading love bites and make a mental note to pick up another bottle of fantasia.

If working with Jingyuan blessed you with any positives, it’s your seasoned thirst for vengeance—and the earlier you act, the swifter (and sweeter) your prize.

Perhaps it was a fluke. Perhaps it was a once-in-a-lifetime, paranormal encounter—but on the off chance it isn’t, well, now you’d be prepared.

Because if he can ruin you, who’s to say you can’t return the favor?

#blade x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x reader #hsr x you #blade hsr #honkai star rail smut #blade smut

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wholoveseggs · 4 months

Text

Crimson Frost {Part Four}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Part Four

Your reunion with Nikaus and Elijah doesn't go as planned and betrayals are revealed. Threatening the peace and safety you fought so hard for.

♡♡ Thank you for your patience with this one! there will be a final part (five) I have it finished, just have to edit it some more xoxo~ ♡♡

5.5k words - Warnings: Viking AU where the Mikaelsons are completely human (no magic, werewolves, vampires... etc) lots of violence, injury, illness?, betrayal and setting up some juicy juicy dramaaa...

{Part One} {Part Two} {Part Three} {Part Five}

The sight of you, holding your sister, safe and alive, was a gift from the Gods, a blessing that made Niklaus nearly shed a tear.

There you were, battered and bruised but living. Telling him that his brothers were possibly still alive, Elijah, his closest friend, and Henrik, his baby brother, the one who looked up to him, saw him as a true warrior, a leader, a hero.

"I won't leave without Elijah," you had said, your eyes fierce, determined.

He admired you so much, your strength, your courage. You had changed in ways he couldn't quite decipher, but you were still the girl he had grown up with, the one who had held his hand when he was scared, who had kissed his bruises and scraped knees. The one he wanted to make his wife.

He watched you run to safety, holding your sister close, and he paused for just a brief moment to imagine the future you would have together, a world free from danger, where you could raise your children, surrounded by his family, putting the past behind you.

Then he ran in the opposite direction towards the docks, the green and blue of his shield and tunic, standing out amongst the black and red of the Blackthorne's. He had to find Elijah and Henrik, had to finish the job, and get all of you out of this wretched place.

When he caught sight of his brother he felt such relief, he couldn't believe he had found him alive. Elijah was a bloody mess, his tunic torn and shredded, his skin covered in bruises and cuts. He had seen him fight before, had sparred with him plenty, but he had never seen him like this; he was a true warrior, a killer, his skill and determination making him a force to be reckoned with.

Niklaus ran forward, his axe held high, and brought it down on a slaver's arm, severing it. The man screamed, the sound deafening, his face a mask of pain.

"Elijah, let's go!" Niklaus shouted, grabbing his brother by the arm.

Before they could even move, a slaver's sword landed into Niklaus' leg, cutting through the leather armour, making him stumble. He managed to keep his footing, grabbing the slaver's face and breaking his skull against a pole, instantly killing him.

Another jumped onto Elijah's back, but Elijah grabbed him by the hair, throwing him into a stack of crates, the wood breaking and splintering under the weight of the slaver's body.

Niklaus cursed under his breath, his body tensing as he saw another attacker rushing towards them, his blade raised. He swung his axe, the blade connecting with the man's chest, blood spraying from the wound. The man stumbled backwards, his eyes wide, his expression one of shock.

They fought back to back, the battle raging around them, the sound of weapons clashing, the shouts of the blackthorne warriors, the smell of blood and death filling the air. It was clear to both of them that they were outnumbered, that they needed to run, that fighting was pointless, but they were surrounded.

"We have to go," Elijah shouted, "now!"

"I'm not leaving without Henrik," Niklaus shouted back, his expression one of defiance, of determination.

"We can't find him if we are dead," Elijah countered, his eyes scanning the crowd, looking for a way out.

They were outnumbered, the odds against them, but Niklaus wasn't about to give up. He was a Mikaelson, he had fought, had killed, had bled for this village, for his family. He would gladly go to Valhalla beside his beloved brother, he had already made his peace with the Gods, had already accepted his fate.

He allowed himself to grieve you once again, the first time allowed him to lay with Tatia, this time it was knowing you would be safe. It made him feel hollow, empty, but it also gave him a sense of purpose, a reason to keep going, to fight.

He grieved the same for Elijah, always doing what he thought his elder brother would do. But with Henrik, he couldn't pretend, couldn't hide behind his duty, it was his baby brother, and if he was lost, he didn't know how he would live with himself.

Elijah turned to look at him, his gaze filled with pain, the anguish and sorrow etched onto his face. Niklaus knew he felt the same way, he would carry the guilt of not saving him forever, and he would make sure to avenge his death, no matter the cost.

"What's done is done," Niklaus said, his voice firm, his grip tightening on his axe, he tried not to let his hands shake, to let his emotions get the better of him. He pushed the images of sweet Henrik, his eyes filled with wonder, his laughter infectious, out of his mind, trying to focus on the present.

"We have to move, Niklaus," Elijah said, his tone sharp.

They turned and ran, losing the pursuing slavers in the main market. They both slowed, pulling their hoods up, keeping their heads down, trying to blend in with the crowd. They weaved their way through the throng of people, dodging and ducking, moving as quickly as possible.

"I saw my sweet y/n with Gerda, thank you for saving them," Niklaus said in a hushed tone.

Elijah nodded, his eyes scanning the crowd, "What of Rebekah and Kol? Where are they?"

"In a village about a ways north from here," he said, keeping his voice low. "They are safe and well, although Kol remains a pain in the ass."

Elijah let out a relieved sigh, a smile forming on his lips. "Good, good,"

Screams and shouts echoing through the market, their pursuers were gaining on them, they could feel it.

"Do you have a plan?" Elijah asked, his voice filled with urgency.

"We split up, lose them, meet back at the forest," Niklaus said, his tone brokering no argument.

Elijah nodded, they were outnumbered, this was their only chance, and they both knew it.

"I'll see you there," Niklaus said, pausing for a moment to look at his brother, taking in his face, committing it to memory.

Then they both embraced, their arms tightening around each other, their shoulders shaking, their emotions overwhelming them. Niklaus hadn't realised how much he needed his big brother, how Elijah made him feel safe, grounded, strong.

They pressed their foreheads together, not needing to say anything, just pausing for just a moment, and then without another word, they went their separate ways.

Niklaus made his way towards the stables, his pace quick, his movements fluid. He found a horse tucked in a quiet corner and he was about to mount it when he heard a scream.

Your scream.

He ran towards the sound, pushing people blindly, not caring if the slavers were following him, not caring about anything but getting to you, saving you.

When he found you, you were standing over Elijah, who looked to be passed out on the ground, your axe raised, your face a mask of fury, your body tense and ready to fight.

You were beautiful, fierce, a true warrior, a Valkyrie come to life.

You swung and landed a fatal blow to a blackthorne's head, his body hitting the ground with a thud.

Niklaus couldn't believe his eyes, he couldn't believe that you had killed a man, that you had fought so hard to save Elijah. You were covered in blood and he didn't know if it was yours or not, his stomach turned, his body moving before he even knew what was happening.

He charged at the remaining attackers, his axe swinging wildly, his fury and rage driving him forward.

When he dispatched the final one, he turned to see you on your knees next to Elijah, your hands holding his, tears streaming down your face.

"Nik, help me," you cried, your voice raw, "we need to get him out of heret,"

Niklaus knelt beside you, his eyes roaming over his brother, checking for injuries. There was a deep gash across his chest, blood seeping from the wound. He pulled a dagger from his belt and cut a piece of cloth from his tunic. He placed it on the wound and pressed down, the pressure causing Elijah to groan.

"He saved me," You said in a quiet voice, "again,"

"You should not have come back," Niklaus growled, his eyes flashing.

"I couldn't leave him," you said, your voice barely a whisper, "I couldn't leave either of you,"

"He is strong," Niklaus said, his voice barely above a whisper, "he will make it,"

You nodded, your gaze turning to the sky, your eyes taking in the setting sun, the colours painting the sky.

"We should get going," you said, getting to your feet, "before more men come,"

Niklaus helped his brother stand, putting his arm around his shoulder, supporting his weight.

"Henrik is with Gerda in the forest," You said, taking Elijah's other side, "let's get the hell out of here,"

"Let's get him on a horse," Niklaus said, his tone urgent, "we can ride double,"

Elijah shook his head, his expression filled with pain, his face pale. "Leave me,"

"No," both you and Niklaus said in unison, your voices hard.

You helped him onto a horse, getting up behind him, your arms wrapping around his waist.

"Go," you cried, "now!"

Niklaus mounted his own steed, his face tense, his jaw clenched. The three of you raced towards the forest, the horses' hooves pounding the ground, the wind rushing past.

As you entered the woods, you could feel the change in the atmosphere, you felt relief, a sense of safety as the canopy of trees became thicker, blocking out the last rays of the setting sun.

Elijah's head drooped, his body leaning against yours. You would not let him die, not here, not after everything you'd been through.

The sky was a brilliant orange, the leaves of the trees tinted red. You gazed into the dark trees of the forest, looking for any sign of Henrik and Gerda.

Your eyes searched for them, and then you saw a glimpse of movement, and heard a snapping of twigs. You caught your breath, hope flaring in your chest. Then you saw him, Henrik, the bravest little warrior. He was holding a stick he had whittled, his eyes wide, his body shaking.

Niklaus immediately dismounted his horse, running to Henrik.

"You're alive!" Henrik exclaimed, his voice filled with relief, immediately dropping the weapon.

"So are you," Niklaus said, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

Niklaus picked him up, squeezing Henrik so tight it hurt, the two of them laughing and crying at the same time. Henrik had his arms wrapped around his neck, his legs dangling in the air.

"I got him," he whispered, his voice shaky. "The one who killed Finn,"

Niklaus looked at you in surprise and you nodded, Henrik beamed with pride, a wide smile on his face.

"Einar Blackthorne was no match for a Mikaelson," you said, your tone soft, gentle.

Niklaus smiled at that, his eyes crinkling.

Gerda, Henrik and Niklaus quickly made camp, setting up a small fire and putting together a makeshift bed for Elijah.

Niklaus watched you tend to Elijah's wounds, the way you carefully cleaned the gashes and cuts, your fingers gently brushing against his skin. He felt a pang of jealousy, a feeling he was unfamiliar with. You had never been particularly close to Elijah, but there was a tenderness in your touch, an intimacy he didn't like.

He noticed the way Elijah's eyes met yours, the way his lips curved into a smile, and it made him angry. But he told himself that you had been through a lot with him, that perhaps it was nothing, just the stress of the situation.

All of you sat around the fire, telling stories of your time apart, catching up on everything you had missed. What Henrik and Gerda had gone through was difficult for all of you to hear, and there was an undercurrent of pain and sorrow that hung over the group.

Niklaus shared the darling tale of how he, Rebekah and Kol escaped the raid. How Kol saved Rebekah and how she did the same for him.

You told them about what you and Elijah had endured, the aftermath of the raid, the storm, the cabin. Leaving out the part about the hot springs, now was not the time to tell Niklaus about what had happened between you and Elijah, it could wait until you were safe in the village.

As the night wore on, Henrik and Gerda curled up close to each other, their hands clasped, their eyes heavy with exhaustion.

You, Niklaus, and Elijah sat in silence, the tension palpable, the air thick with unspoken words. Niklaus was eyeing the two of you suspiciously, his brow furrowed, his gaze intense. He had no right to feel such things, not when he had bedded Tatia. And yet, he did, a deep, gnawing ache in his chest.

"I'm going to get some rest," he said, standing up abruptly, "will you join me?" He asked you, his voice tight, demanding.

You glanced down at Elijah, his eyes closed, his breathing steady.

"I should stay with him," you said softly, "I want to make sure he is okay,"

Niklaus frowned and his fists clenched.

"Very well," he replied, his tone cold, distant, "I'll see you in the morning,"

He walked away from the camp, his body tense, his mind racing. He felt like he was losing you, and it made him feel angry, frustrated, helpless. Perhaps this was his punishment for betraying you, for not being there when you needed him the most.

Niklaus woke as the sun rose, his head pounding and his joints aching. He rubbed his eyes, blinking the sleep from them, his gaze falling upon Elijah. He was drenched in sweat, fighting off a fever, his skin pale, his lips cracked. Niklaus grabbed his flask and held it to Elijah's lips, the water trickling down his chin.

He placed a hand on his forehead, the heat radiating off him, a sheen of sweat covering his body. His pulse was rapid, his breathing shallow, and his eyes were moving rapidly beneath his eyelids. Even though Niklaus hated seeing him in this state, he was improving, his fever lessening with each passing hour.

You had not left Elijah's side in days, cleaning his wounds and administering herbs and salves, anything to help fight the infection. Your hands had been tireless, working until the early hours of the morning, tending to him. Niklaus looked around for you, and when he couldn't find you, his chest tightened, a fear gripping him.

"y/n?" He called out, his voice hoarse, his tone anxious.

"She's in the woods," Henrik said, his voice quiet, he was whittling at a stick, preparing to hunt some small game for breakfast. Gerda was sleeping next to him, her hand resting on his leg.

"Where is she?" He asked, his tone sharp, impatient.

"She just got up suddenly and ran off," Henrik replied, shrugging his shoulders, his expression neutral.

Niklaus stood and walked into the forest, his eyes scanning the area, his ears straining for any sound. He heard terrible retching coming from behind a tree, his feet carrying him towards the noise.

You were hunched over, your body wracked with tremors, the sound of your stomach emptying echoing through the trees. Niklaus knelt beside you, placing a hand on your back, the other holding your hair back.

"What's wrong?" He asked, his voice laced with concern.

You straightened up, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, your eyes watering.

"I'm fine," you said, your voice shaky, "I just... I couldn't sleep,"

Niklaus stepped closer, his eyes taking in the sight of you, your face pale, your body trembling.

"You don't look well," he said, his tone worried, "did you eat something that didn't agree?"

"No, I..." you trailed off, your mind racing. "It's nothing," you said, a weak smile on your lips.

He placed a hand on your forehead, you weren't overly warm, and he didn't know if that was good or bad.

"We should get you back to the camp," he said, his tone firm.

"I need more herbs," you said, trying to push him away, "for the salve, for Elijah's wounds,"

"We have enough," he said, his voice stern, "and you need to rest,"

"I'm fine," You snapped, pushing his hand away, your expression hard, "I can take care of myself,"

Niklaus was taken aback by your reaction, by the venom in your voice. He reached out and took your hand in his, his touch gentle, his eyes filled with concern.

"He will be okay, his fever is breaking, and his wounds are healing," Niklaus said, his tone calm, steady. "We will be able to travel soon,"

"I know," you replied, your voice barely a whisper, your eyes downcast. "It's just, I'm worried, and tired,"

"We all are, but the gods will not be so cruel as to take my big brother," Niklaus said, his voice soft, reassuring.

You let out a sigh, your shoulders sagging, a tired smile forming on your lips. The two of you headed back to the camp, the smell of food filling the air, Henrik and Gerda cooking some kind of stew.

You sat down next to Elijah, pushing his damp hair away from his face, checking his temperature. He was still too warm,his skin covered in a sheen of sweat, but Niklaus was right, he was improving.

"You'll be fine," you whispered, your voice cracking, your chest tightening, "just hold on a little longer,"

Henrik and Gerda handed you a bowl of stew, you ate very little, your stomach still upset. You needed to eat, you needed your strength, but you couldn't bring yourself to do it.

You helped Elijah sit up, leaning him against a tree, feeding him the broth, trying to get him to take as much as he could. He ate slowly, his eyes dull, his face blank.

"We have to keep him hydrated," you said, your voice firm, your eyes meeting Niklaus'. "He's lost a lot of blood,"

Niklaus nodded, his gaze drifting towards Elijah, his expression dark. "I know a healer who can help him, in the village we need to get to,"

"What's her name?" You asked, your voice low, your tone soft, still looking at Elijah.

"Tatia," Niklaus replied, his voice quiet, his tone grim, his jaw clenched.

You nodded, not pressing further, a feeling of dread forming in the pit of your stomach. Everything was going to change when they arrived back in the village, and not for the better.

The journey home had been arduous, the days long and tiresome. You had done your best to avoid Niklaus, choosing to ride alongside Henrik and Gerda. Elijah was healthy enough to ride, but not on his own, so you and Niklaus took turns supporting him.

You tried not to think about your little problem, the thing growing inside of you, but it was difficult. Your thoughts would stray, wondering how things would change once Niklaus knew. What would happen to you?

As the village came into view, relief washed over you, the weight of the last few months lifting. Niklaus had told you this place was safe, a haven for those seeking refuge, and you were grateful.

You followed him into the village, the people going about their business, the hustle and bustle reminding you of home.

An older man greeted you, his name was Ansel, he shook Niklaus hand, his face splitting into a grin.

"Niklaus!" Ansel exclaimed, his voice booming, his tone jovial, "welcome home,"

"Thank you, Ansel," Niklaus replied, his own smile matching the older man's, "this is y/n, my betrothed,"

"Y/n," Ansel replied, his gaze drifting towards you, his eyes lighting up, "what a beauty, congratulations,"

"Thank you," you replied, smiling at the older man, "it's nice to meet you,"

"Let's get you all settled in," Ansel said, gesturing for the group to follow him, "you must be tired after your journey,"

Before you could take another step you were lifted off the ground by a pair of strong arms, a familiar voice shouting with excitement.

"Kol!" You exclaimed, hugging him back, a wave of happiness washing over you.

"We missed you," he replied, placing you back on the ground, his hands still on your shoulders, his gaze searching yours, "we were all so worried,"

Rebekah practically shoved Kol out of the way, her arms wrapping around you, the two of you embracing tightly.

"You're safe," she said, her voice choked, tears falling freely, "I'm so glad,"

"Me too," you replied, holding her close, the two of you not letting go

“I'm so glad you're home," she said softly, pulling away from you to hug her siblings.

"So am I," you replied, watching the siblings reunite, a genuine smile on your lips.

Kol and Niklaus led the way to the healer's hut, the two of you following behind, Elijah resting between them.

Tatia was outside, tending to her plants, she glanced up, her eyes meeting Niklaus', a flicker of emotion passing over her face. She was beautiful, her features delicate, her long, dark hair was loose, flowing down her back.

"Niklaus," she said, her voice soft, melodic, "you're back,"

"Tatia," His voice went soft, his gaze intense, "I've missed you,"

"And I you," she replied, her eyes roaming his body, taking him in, her lips curving into a smile.

You looked between the two of them and could see the chemistry, the heat, the electricity. You thought that you should perhaps feel jealousy, but there was none. The two of them looked good together, the perfect pair, and you felt happy for him.

Tatia turned her attention towards Elijah, her face becoming serious.

"Bring him inside," she said, her tone clinical, her expression neutral.

She helped lay him down, her fingers examining the cuts and gashes, her lips pursed.

"He's lost a lot of blood," she said, her voice quiet, her eyes meeting Niklaus, "but he will recover, with time and rest,"

You let out a breath you hadn't realised you'd been holding, the relief flooding through you. You felt lightheaded and your vision started to swim, the ground coming up to meet you. Niklaus caught you, his arm wrapping around your waist, his body steadying yours. He led you to a nearby chair and kneeled before you, his eyes full of concern.

"Are you alright?" He asked, his voice low, his hands resting on your legs, his touch comforting.

"Yes," you replied, a weak smile forming on your lips, "I'm fine, just tired,"

Tatia handed you a cup of water, you drank deeply, the cool liquid soothing your parched throat.

"Thank you," you said, your voice hoarse, your eyes meeting hers.

"Of course," she replied, her tone warm, she turned to look at Niklaus, giving him a gentle smile, "you've all been through a lot, you need rest,"

"Come 'Nik, they are having a feast tonight, in our honour," Kol said, his tone light, his gaze falling on Rebekah, "they want to celebrate the return of their brave warriors,"

"That's very generous," Niklaus replied, his eyes never leaving Tatia, "but I think I'll stay here,"

"Nonsense!" Rebekah exclaimed, her eyes shining, "Elijah will be fine, and y/n needs to rest,"

"I'd really rather just-" Niklaus began, but you cut him off.

"Niklaus," you said softly, your eyes meeting his, "Go and enjoy the festivities,"

He hesitated for a moment, his gaze moving between you and Tatia, conflict etched across his face.

"Very well," he replied, standing up and kissing your cheek, his eyes softening, "I'll check on you later,"

You watched him and the rest of the Mikaelson family leave the hut, with only you, Tatia and Elijah remaining. Tatia stood over Elijah, her fingers working to clean and bandage his wounds, her gaze focused, her expression serious.

"Thank you," you said, your voice barely a whisper, your gaze meeting hers, "for taking care of him,"

"It's my duty," she replied, her tone matter-of-fact, her eyes never leaving Elijah, "the people in this village rely on me, they trust me to take care of them,"

"I understand," you said, nodding, a small smile forming on your lips, "It's not an easy job,"

"No, it isn't," she said, her gaze moving towards you, a look of understanding passing between the two of you, "but it's a job that someone has to do,"

"But one must not neglect oneself when caring for others," Tatia continued, a smile spreading across her face, "we cannot be our best if we are not our healthiest,"

You watched her heat some water over a fire, adding some herbs, stirring the concoction, the smell of it filling the hut.

"Here, drink this, it will help with the fatigue," she said, handing you a cup of the herbal tea, "are you hurt anywhere?"

"No," you replied, taking a sip, the warm liquid soothing your aching muscles, "I'm fine, just a couple scrapes and bruises,"

Tatia nodded and knelt down and pressed her hand into your stomach, feeling around.

"Does this hurt?" She asked, pressing harder, her eyes meeting yours.

"No," you replied, confused, your brow furrowed, "should it?"

"When was the last time you bled?" She asked, her voice low, her expression neutral.

"About two months ago," you said softly, you already knew what she was going to say, but you didn't want her to ask, that would make it real.

"Have you experienced any mood swings, nausea, fatigue?" She asked, her tone matter-of-fact, her expression serious, "Any tenderness here?"

She pressed into your lower abdomen, her fingers feeling around, the look on her face one of concern. "Is there a possibility that you may be with child? Have you been with a man?"

"Yes," you whispered, so quietly, your throat suddenly dry, you instinctively looked to Elijah and Tatia followed your gaze.

"The father is not Niklaus, is it?" She asked, her tone gentle, her expression sympathetic.

"How do you know?" You asked, surprised, a look of shock on your face.

"It's my job to know," she replied, a small smile forming on her lips, "and to help those in need,"

"Can you... can you get rid of it?" You asked, your tone tentative, uncertain, a knot forming in the pit of your stomach.

"Is that what you want?" She asked, her voice soft, her gaze searching yours.

"Yes... No... I don't know," you replied, tears welling up in your eyes, the emotions flooding through you.

Tatia didn't say anything more, just squeezed your hand, the two of you sitting in silence, her presence comforting.

Elijah stirred a bit on the cot, his eyes opened and he sat up slowly, wincing as he did so.

"You're awake," Tatia said, her tone calm, reassuring, "how are you feeling?"

"Like I've been trampled by a herd of wild horses," he replied, his voice raspy, his gaze drifting towards you, "how are you? And the others?"

"They're fine," you replied, the smile on your face faltering a bit, "we're all okay,"

Elijah looked relieved, accepting the tea that Tatia had brewed for him, sipping it slowly.

"I'm grateful," he said, his eyes meeting Tatia's, "thank you,"

"It was my pleasure," she replied, her tone genuine, "but you need to rest, both of you,"

She ushered the two of you to another part of the hut, the beds soft and welcoming. You climbed on to the cot, exhaustion washing over you, the stress of the last few months catching up with you. Elijah settled down on his own cot next to yours, grunting a bit, his wounds still sore.

"How long has it been since the raid?" He asked, his voice quiet, his eyes meeting yours.

"A little more than three months," you replied, your tone grim, the events of the past few months flooding back to you, "It feels like a lifetime,"

"I can't believe it's been that long," Elijah said, his eyes filled with sadness, "so much has changed,"

You didn't respond, not sure what to say, the truth hanging heavy between the two of you.

"Come here," He said, his voice barely a whisper, his gaze soft, inviting.

You did as he asked, climbing into the bed next to him, his arms wrapping around you. The two of you held each other, your bodies pressed together, the warmth of his skin against yours, comforting.

You wanted to tell him that you were carrying his child, the words on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn't bring yourself to speak, the fear gripping your heart. He was still so weak, so vulnerable, and you knew he would immediately tell Niklaus, and you couldn't risk that, not yet. Niklaus never took betrayal well.

"We did it," Elijah said, his breath ghosting across your ear, his lips brushing against the side of your head, "we made it back home,"

You smiled and closed your eyes and let sleep consume you. You were safe, at least for now.

Niklaus weaved his way through the crowded longhouse, the celebration in full swing, his eyes scanning the faces, looking for his younger brother. He found Kol in the middle of the room, a group of young women gathered around him, their laughter filling the air.

"Kol," Niklaus said, wrapping his arm around his brother, admiring the group, "who are these lovely maidens?"

"Nik," Kol replied, a wide smile on his face, his eyes roaming the young women with the same hunger as his brother, "let me introduce you to everyone, this is Elsie, Ingrid, and Helene,"

"Pleased to meet you ladies," Niklaus said, his eyes twinkling, he took a long swig of his ale, his third or fourth mug of the evening, the alcohol buzzing through his system. He didn't realise how badly he needed to let loose until that moment, the stress of the past few months fading away.

"Kol has been telling us stories of the raids," Ingrid said, her tone breathless, her gaze focused on the handsome Mikaelson, "it sounds like you had quite an adventure,"

"My brother is a hero, he saved our sister with great bravery," Niklaus replied, his tone playful, his eyes dancing, "and the bards will sing songs of his valour for generations to come,"

"He's very brave," Helene chimed in, her cheeks flushing, her eyes never leaving Kol's, "I think we should reward him, don't you agree Elsie?"

"Yes," Elsie replied, her eyes bright, a mischievous grin forming on her lips, "he does deserve a prize, for being such a great warrior,"

The three women took Kol by the hand, leading him off to dance, their movements fluid, sensual. Niklaus watched them, a smile playing on his lips, he had missed this, the easy banter, the flirtation, the revelry.

He turned to see the most beautiful woman he ever laid eyes on approach him, a fresh mug of ale in her hands.

"Tatia," He said breathlessly, his eyes roaming her form, taking her in, "you are a sight for sore eyes,"

"Niklaus," she replied, her lips curving into a smile, her voice melodic, "are you enjoying the festivities?"

"Very much," he said, his eyes never leaving hers, the familiarity between them evident, "but it's not the same without you,"

"Is that so?" she said, her tone light, a flirtatious grin forming on her lips, her gaze meeting his. He could see her expression falter, a storm of conflict and pain lingering behind her eyes.

"I suppose you will be married soon, the village will be so happy, it's been so long since we had a wedding," Tatia said, her tone tinged with sadness, her eyes looking anywhere but his.

"I will," Niklaus replied, his voice low, his hand reaching out to cup her cheek, his thumb caressing her skin, "I'm sorry, I thought my y/n was gone, I would have not laid with you if I'd known,"

"It's fine, really," she replied, a small smile forming on her lips, "we had a wonderful night together, and I will always treasure it,"

"So will I," Niklaus replied, his gaze intense, his emotions conflicting, "will you dance with me?"

"Of course," she said, taking his hand, letting him lead her to where the others were dancing, her body pressing against his, the two of them moving in sync, lost in the music, swaying to the beat of the drums.

"I have some news, but I'm afraid the gods will be angry with me if I tell you," Tatia whispered, her breath hot against his ear, her eyes searching his.

"The gods are forgiving," Niklaus replied, his voice soft, his eyes searching hers, wondering what she had to say.

"If one betrays to reveal a betrayal, do you think the gods will forgive?" Tatia asked, her tone tentative, conflict etched in her expression.

"You speak in riddles, Tatia," Niklaus said with a laugh, his hands cupping her face, "please,just tell me what worries you so,"

"Your y/n," Tatia said, her tone quiet, her voice shaky, "She is with child."

{Part One} {Part Two} {Part Three} {Part Five}

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#elijah mikaelson #the originals #the vampire diaries #klaus mikaelson #vampire diaries #tvdu #rebekah mikaelson #kol mikaelson #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikealson imagine #elijah mikealson #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikealson x reader #tvd #the vampire diaries x you #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diares imagine #the vampire diaries imagine #the originals imagine

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fangsyouverymuch01 · 9 months

Text

If walls could talk

This is part 2 of my series. You don't have to have read the first part to get into pt 2, butttt I would appreciate it! :) Part 1 LINK.

Part 3 is also out! Here is the LINK.

Summery: Tav is fighting against their dark thoughts and decides to do something about it. However, what other bloodthirsty killer lurks in the dark forest?

Words: 2,2 k

Parings: Astarion x durge, Astarion x tav

Warnings: Blood, dark fantasies/nightmares, daggers, smut if you squint???, murder, sleep deprivation, sassy vampire

Hope you like it! <3

Moonlight marks the end of the day, painting the swaying leafs a faint blue. The cracklings of the fire and the laughter from your newfound companions warms the cool night. You’ve managed to gather a party of the gith - Laezel, the blade of frontiers - Wyll, Karlach - a fighter from avernus, Gale - Mystras former chosen, sharworshipper - Shadowheart and lastly the pale rouge Astarion. Quite the mix to say at least.

Everyone’s laughter is mixed with the occasional slurping. Gale had insisted on making a traditional potato and leek soup which was appreciated by some, others like Astarion had barely touched it.

“You’re not hungry Astarion?” Karlach asked as she gulped down her second bowl of soup.

“I prefer something more filling.” he stated and shot you a quick glance before adding “ Besides, the events of today have me thinking of other things than leek soup.” .

You nearly choke at his comment and retort by gluing your eyes to the bowl in your hands.

“No offense taken my friend, however you are missing out on this delightful soup, the leeks are scarcely this fresh in Waterdeep.”

The party hums in approval and the conversation falls into a stillness, only the occasional breaking of twigs and swaying trees break the silence. Soon enough, the moon reaches its peak and everyone zips up their tents for the night. Your tent contains a simple bedroll and a teddy bear Karlach had lended you after observing your dark under eyes worsening the past days. Sleep had not found you , thoughts of life before the crash kept sleep from embracing your tired form. The others abilities had been wiped from the tadpole insertion but their memories stayed intact, why hadn’t yours? Questions filled your cortex, gaining a disturbing wriggling from the worm trapped within your skull. Adding to your concern, were your trances. Unbeknownst to your companions, these trances haunted you far more than sleep deprivation. Blood, gore, torture, murder and a variety of dark fantasies threatened to consume you.

What will happen if you lost control?

This night differed from the others, the lack of sleep seemed to affect your willpower and fantasies of butchering foe and friend displayed themselves as your eyelids felt heavier. Cradling the stuffed animal, your eyelids dip and curl your legs against the lower of your abdomen. Snoring and faint breaths cushion your tilted ears, guiding you to enter the embrace of night. The occasional stir flings your eyes open but the blue light signals them to close yet again.

Flashes of Shadowheart and Karlach pass by, them withstanding to burst into laughter as you awkwardly shift to fit the very large lute in your lap. Alfira bombards your efforts with words of encouragement, unsuccessfully pulling you from glancing at Shadowheart and Karlach doubled over in the corner, tears forming in the half elf’s eyes and the tiefling biting her lip as she pushes down a rumbling laugh. Exhaling to calm yourself, you pull at the strings and an array of tunes and random noises are produced. A terrible tune, a tune so foul that your ears fold to lessen the eardrum to vibrate at every tone crushing against it. Stealing a glance at your companions, an image of a headless Karlach strikes. Twisting your neck towards Alfira, she’s holding her heaving chest and pouring into her lap is a waterfall of thick blood. The once joyous ambiance twists into a macabre dreamscape. Shadowheart and Karlach's previous laughter warps into haunting echoes, and Alfira's encouragement morphs into desperate pleas though her gurgling. Your fingers tremble on the lute, producing dissonant, nightmarish sounds that echo the chaos. As you steal glances at your companions, Shadowhearts face contort into grotesque expressions of agony. The nightmare's grip tightens, effectively suffocating you.

“What did you do?” Shadowheart whispers, hands lacing with the hem of your trousers by your feet, the essence of life a ghost on her lips.

Wake up. Wake up!

You need to stay awake.

You can’t and you won’t let this control you.

Panting, your person rises from the bedroll. Your heart drums against the sternum of your ribcage and you swear, the sound of cracking bones bounces off the taupe tent walls. Tears pour as the floodgates to your tear duct opens. It was all so much, overbearing guilt tightens its snare and breathing burdens your lungs. Tossing the sweat drenched stuffed bear, you unzip a backpack in the corner of the tent. In the backpack lies a crossbow you picked up from the battle outside the groove, a battle your then more modest party barely withstood. Pulling it out you prepare to head out into the night. Perhaps your thoughts could not be controlled but you did have a choice in what was at the receiving end of your brutal fantasies. Puffing out a breath of air, your rise and glare at the dark sky. The cloud-free night unveils moonbeams and stars twinkling in the vast expanse, inviting contemplation.

“Please let this work.” you plead with the moon.

The camp is positively silent, making your chance to slip into the shadows significantly increase. Carefully, you tread past Gales and Astarions tents. To your surprise, Astarions tent is slightly unzipped. Was he also facing the restless night? Or was he out causing mischief at night as well? Having no time to ponder the alternatives, you make way towards the dark forest.

The night has the once calm and inviting nature evoking a sense of adrenaline - what hid in its shadows? The ballad of birds and paws of gentler creatures had slumped with the rise of the moon, leaving behind a hushed stillness that amplifies the rustle of leaves and distant whispers of the nocturnal world. As the cool breeze carries the fragrance of earth, the night becomes a stage for the mysterious and unseen, where the darkness holds both the thrill of the unknown and the comfort of needed solitude. A twig is snapped further down the unknown woods, sending a subtle tremor through the air. Instinctively, you froze. Your gaze narrowed, senses guiding your body to scan for any signs of movement. Amidst the rustling leaves, a fleeting silhouette hides behind the vegetation —a prey

Salvation by the blade! Salvation by the blade! Salvation by the blade! Salvation by the blade!

It demands to be heard. Clutching your soul, clawing at your cortex to take a shot at the unknowing creature behind the protecting leafs. A feverish sweat trickles down your temples as you aim the crossbow. Narrowing your eyes, the moon casts an eerie glow as your prey skillfully drains the life force from another unsuspecting creature.

Pointy ears, white curls - Astarion?

No. No, it can’t be.

Descending into the trance, your body remains unfazed to the revelation before your eyes. Astarion is crouching over a boar, blood from its guts spilling over his leather beeches and obscene guttural noises escapes the elf’s lips.

Did he have the same affliction as you?

When fighting to regain clarity fully, his keen ears catch a hint of movement in your direction. Swift as a shadow, he hurtles toward the foliage, forcefully pushing you onto the plush grass. With a thud you hit the ground. His dagger assertively rests at your throat and the other hand restraints yours from countering his initiative. His face, smeared with blood, reveals menacingly sharp teeth, droplets cascading onto your lips. The metallic taste mutes the voices in your mind, and as clarity dawns, you realize it may be a moment too late to salvage the situation.

“Trying to sneak up on a rouge now are we?” The elf snarls.

“Astarion wait I didn’t know-“ you ramble as you try to regain your full clarity.

The elf’s jaw tenses as if juggling his options.

“Are we the same you and I?” You ask unwillingly, being careful not to move under his sharp blade.

“Darling, you and I are nothing alike. I’d never make the questionable decision to aim my bow at a fellow and trusted companion ” Astarion answers and leans towards your face, persistently persevering eye contact with you.

At that, Astarion pushes his dagger further into your jugular vein, earning him a disapproving growl. He’s straddling you with his full weight pressing you down, there is no escaping except from your sharp tongue.

“I never meant to hurt you, it’s just-“ you stop, contemplating how to explain your condition to the irritated bloodstained elf before you. “I dream in red, I’ve not slept for days in hopes it would go away to no avail, so I came out here to kill some worthless boar or rabbit in hopes it would ease my fantasies.” You confess in one breath.

There it was, the truth of it all and now it was up to him to decide.

Astarion investigates your features as if trying to detect any dishonesty, face still covered in blood running down his neck, spilling under the front lacing of his shirt. What starts as a chuckle turns into a manic laughter from the elf’s lips. On display are his teeth again.

Fangs. A vampire.

“I won’t tell the others, just let me go.“ you begin as panic rises from your chest.

“How delightful, a maniac with a dark urge and a starved vampire. A fruitful pair don’t you think?” He smirks as his eyes grow dark, a deep crimson boring into yours.

“Fruitful?” you question as he narrows the inches between your faces.

“Darling, your urges have you adrenaline pumping and mine keep me far from alert, we could perhaps come to an arrangement for our predicaments..”

Oh.

His push on your jugular vein softens and he leans in to whisper in your ear.

“You give me a taste of your delectable blood and your reward leaves you from acting on these dirty thoughts of yours. “

His sultry voice entwines with your senses, warm and enticing as it beckons you to accept his proposition. On a logical level, he presents a solution to your predicament. Yet, it's hard to ignore the stark reality—this man, soaked in blood, recently grappled you to the ground and still pushes a dagger menacingly against your throat.

“Not a drop too much, I still need to be able to fight when the sun rises.” you squeeze out, hiding your blush at the position in which he held you, restraining you from squirming and hiding.

“I’ll restrict my urges as long as you do too darling”

Gods.

Astarions lashes flutter against your cheek, traveling along the curve of your neck and sharply inhales near your jaw. The dagger in his grasp is speedily pocketed into his holster, hand now reaching to angel your head in the perfect position.

“Very good” he coos.

Heat grows between your thighs as his legs squeeze the sides of your hips and chest pressed against yours makes your breath hitch in response. You want to indulge in every part of him but at the same time you are at his mercy. He was dealt a hand where destiny, hope and trust entirely was up to him.

“Give in, embrace the truth of the blade.” the voice licked into your other ear, tongue slithering further in.

“Astarion please get it over with, I-“ you stutter as the trance flits back into your limbs, nails reaching to tear themselves from his grip. “I’m losing myself…please”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. The rouge skillfully bundles your restraint from pulling away from his sharp teeth. Licking the area to prepare for his bite, he plants a kiss before puncturing into your pumping jugular vein. The pain is sharp at first, urging your mouth to let out a gasp. Seconds pass and with time leavs the pain and is traded for an electrifying jolt that sends shivers through your body. Warmth, pleasure, joy, arousal and at last - nothingness. The kiss of stillness lures before you and only Astarions licking pierced through the vacuum-like atmosphere. His head bobs up and down, curls cushioning your tilted jaw.

“Astarion?”

The rouge stiffens as your words cleave through his own blood frenzy. His licking is replaced by fluttering kisses, sending jolts of warmth to spread between your legs. Your once bundled hands are now also intertwined with his, the other tangled in your hair. The elf slightly pulls your hair, earning him a muffled moan as you bite down to contain your racing thoughts. As your head spins in bliss, Astarion prowls to catch your disoriented eyes with his pupil-blown ones. The vampire is positively delighted, a genuine smile creeping up as he loosened his grip on your hand.

“ You are truly delicious my dear.” the euphoric man softly speaks, licking his lips.

“I’m glad to be proven a filling snack.” you say through half-closed eyes.

Astarion must’ve noticed your delirium and furrows his brow in response.

“Are you quite alright?”

“Yes of course, why wouldn’t I?” you whisper and give him a genuine smile.

You glance at him with fully opened eyes, taking in the sight before you.

Trying uncipher your progressively clouded thoughts you mumble “You are very pretty Astarion”.

In the moonlit silence the rest of your conversation turns into a blur. The last image to flash by is a trembling hand that sought your pulse, any sign of life.

“Don’t you dare die on me.”

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