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joyful-enchantress · 1 year

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Spring Heat (18+) | Loki x Fem!Reader

banner created by the amazing @springdandelixn

A/N: You help your husband through his yearly heat, which is part of the Jotun mating cycle. He's afraid he might hurt you, but you are determined to stay... I wrote this for @springdandelixn and her Double-Trouble Sleepover! Congratulations, Beanie, my love! I hope you enjoy this little fic that I put together for you 🖤

Genre/Warnings: Jotun mating cycle AU, smut (18+), rough sex, choking, dubcon? (everything is consensual but Loki is not entirely in control of himself), language, light angst, fluff too, filth with feeling, established relationship

Word Count: 3182

The sights and sounds of springtime were all around you as you strolled through the palace grounds —

The busy twittering of birds as they searched for food and fought over tree branches on which to build their nests.

The chattering of squirrels and rabbits and other small animals as they came out of hiding to begin a new season of life.

The rich shade of green returning to the grass in the meadow, speckled with pops of color where wildflowers were beginning to bloom.

Speaking of blooming flowers -- the palace gardens were thriving, and in the next couple of weeks were sure to become a spectacle of color, ranging from delicate pastel hues to bright, vibrant tones. Just in time for the Spring Festival that would be held at the end of the month.

Yes, spring was upon you. Your favorite season. It meant warmer temperatures and sunshine and new life.

But despite all the bright cheerfulness that spring brought with it, for your husband, Loki, it also brought with it a certain darkness.

His heat.

Loki was of Jotun blood; a Frost Giant. And with that heritage came certain Jotun traits, some more easily embraced than others. One such trait that your husband found more loathsome than the rest was the Jotun mating cycle.

Each year since his body matured, around the time of the Spring Equinox, Loki would find himself at the mercy of his primal instincts. Unable to control his animalistic urges to mate, he’d lock himself in his chambers until it would pass.

That is, until you had something to say about it.

When you learned of the agony he endured — both physically and emotionally — locked in his chambers for anywhere from one week to one month until his heat cycle passed, you couldn’t bear it. You had to do something to help, if you could.

You remembered the conversation you’d had with him well. It was shortly after your wedding…

————

“Loki, isn’t there anything that would make it easier to endure? Or at least make it come to an end more quickly? I can’t imagine a week of that, let alone a month.”

“Unfortunately, no, darling. There isn’t really anything that can be safely done to help it. The healers can give me an elixir that will suppress it, but I can’t take it every year, or it would lose its effectiveness. And besides, a heat the year after a suppressed heat is always more intense and agonizing.”

Your eyebrow cocked, looking at him with curiosity. “You sound like you’re speaking from experience…?”

He took a deep breath before answering, “Yes, I’ve taken suppressants occasionally in the past. The temptation of a year of reprieve was too great for me to resist at times. But I always found that the following year’s heat was far worse than what is typical. More desperation, more madness, more… pain.”

Your heart broke for him in that moment.

“Why does it last so long, Loki?”

He gave a mirthless chuckle. “It lasts as long as it takes for one of two things to happen. Either it quite literally burns its way out of my system, like a fever that takes weeks to break. Or…”

His voice trailed off, and he looked off into the distance, as if he was searching for his thought amongst the forests and rolling hills.

“Or…?” You gently encouraged him to continue.

Loki let out an exasperated sigh and quietly admitted, “Or… I mate. Breed. Fuck.”

Something about the way he enunciated the hard ‘k’, his Adam’s apple bobbing sinfully as the sound clicked in his throat, had your core throbbing with need and a wave of hot arousal unfolding over your body.

You blinked a few times as you contemplated what he said. “Well that seems easy enough,” you replied cooly, as if you were discussing the weather.

“What…?” He looked at you, perplexed.

“If having a good fuck will bring your agony to an end, then that seems like an easy solution to me. I can help you with that —”

“NO!” His rich baritone voice boomed as it cut you off, dripping with authority, anger, and — was that fear? “You don’t understand, my love. I am not myself when this happens. I lose myself, I lose control. I no longer am capable of keeping up the Asgardian façade; my Jotun form takes over and I am overcome with the primal desire to mate. I lose all regard for decency, I become… a monster. I am a monster.”

“Loki…” you reached a hand up to caress the side of his stupidly beautiful face, running your thumb soothingly along his sharp cheekbone and slotting your palm against his chiseled jaw, which was tightly clenched. A sign of his distress. “I love you, Loki. Let me help you through this.”

“I love you too, darling. More than my life itself. Which is exactly why I can’t let you do this.” He wrapped his large hand around the back of yours and turned his head to the side to tenderly kiss your palm. “It isn’t safe. I could hurt you. Badly.”

“I trust you, Loki. I trust you with my life, no matter what physical form you assume.” The next words you uttered came to you as easily as breathing, “I want to do this. Please. Use me. Use my body to sate your desires and end your own suffering.”

His emerald eyes widened at your words, most likely shocked at how brazen and self-assured they were. But swirling behind the shock was something else. Reverence. Trepidation. And lust.

He slowly swallowed, gathering himself together and collecting his thoughts after you scrambled them with your salacious plea.

“Alright then, darling.” He cautiously relented, his eyes boring into yours, searching for any sign that you were having second thoughts or hints of doubt. “Come springtime, when my next heat cycle is upon me, I’ll let you help me. I’ll let you be the balm that soothes my burning, searing ache.”

————

And now, spring was upon you. And any day now, it would be time to make good on your promise to him. For better or worse. You suddenly had a renewed appreciation for the words you spoke in your wedding vows to him, just 8 months ago.

Loki has been warning you for the past few days that his heat is imminent, and could take over at any time. He could feel it; all the warning signs were there. The restlessness. The irritability. The discomfort. Crawling under his skin like an itch he can't scratch. Until it makes him snap.

Each and every time, he asked if you were still sure. He reminded you that you could change your mind, that he didn't expect you to do this. That he'd never expect you to do this. It was entirely your choice.

And each and every time, you stood firm in your decision. You wanted to help him. You would do this.

The sun was beginning to set on your evening stroll, so you altered your route so that it would lead you back towards the private chambers that you shared with Loki. As you approached the hallway which led to your shared door, you could feel a distinct, unseasonal chill in the air.

Was this it? Was tonight the night?

Once you reached the ornate wooden door, you noticed a thin blanket of frost coating the edges of it, as if, behind the door, was the force of winter itself, its icy chill seeping through the gaps between the door and the frame.

You reflected for a moment on the irony that all this frost and chill was the result of something called a heat, and you couldn't help but chuckle to yourself.

But then you remembered that not just fire, but ice, too, can burn.

A shiver rolled down your spine, and the cold seeping through the doorframe wasn't entirely to blame.

You took a moment to gather your courage, reminding yourself that this was Loki. Your husband. Your one true love.

You could do this.

You softly knocked, each tap of your knuckles against the cold wood sending a jolt of bravery through you.

"Loki... can I come in?"

"Pet..." The voice that answered you was familiar, but more... ragged. It was deeper, if that was even possible, and assumed a huskiness that made your usually gentle husband sound nothing short of feral.

It sent a surge of hot, wet arousal through you, which pooled between your thighs.

"I'm here, Loki..." you whispered like a prayer. "Let me help you."

"This is your last chance, pet," he warned. "You can still change your mind. But the moment you open the door, I'm afraid there will be no going back."

Good thing you had no plans of going back.

You opened the door and stepped into your chambers; after ensuring the door was closed and locked, you took a deep breath. This was it.

As you turned around, you came face to face with your husband.

Except he wasn't quite the Loki you knew. For one thing, he was taller. Much taller. At least 8 feet tall. You briefly wondered how you'd be able to take him in this form. His usually porcelain skin was replaced with a brilliant cerulean, and across every bit of blue that your hungry eyes could find, were ridges that swept across his skin in bold strokes and delicate lines, forming intricate patterns that you longed to trace with your fingers. As your eyes settled on his face, you found some familiarity there. You recognized the bone structure and the shape of his nose, the curve of his lips; the luscious raven locks that framed his angular face were unchanged. But in place of the emerald orbs that you knew and loved were two glistening rubies, staring at you with an intensity that could only be described as ferocious.

He was beautiful. Flawless. You saw no monster before you. Only your husband. Showing you a side of himself that he has kept hidden from you. Until now.

You broke the silence first, and simply muttered, "I love you, and I am here. Use me."

And that was all the permission he needed.

He closed the distance between you impossibly fast, like a predator stalking its prey, and wrapped an icy hand around your throat, squeezing firmly, the coldness stinging like pins and needles against your skin.

His lips met yours with an urgency that you hadn't experienced before; any hint of gentleness was gone and in its place a brutal clash of tongues and teeth as he claimed your mouth, a throaty growl slipping past his lips as he basked in the taste of you on his tongue.

Fear crept up your spine for the first time since you entered, and you brought your small hands up to claw at his wrist, a desperate attempt to let him know that you needed a break; you needed to breathe.

Something within him seemed to get the message, because he peeled his mouth away from yours and released your throat, repurposing his hand to wrap around your midsection and toss you unceremoniously onto the large bed in the center of the room.

You had to admit that part of you enjoyed the way he was manhandling you.

He wasted no time freeing himself from his garments and strode towards the bed, where he situated himself over you, caging in your small frame like a hungry animal about to enjoy the spoils of its hunt.

You gulped at the sight of his enormous cock, as it bobbed angrily against his stomach, covered in the same ridges that decorated the rest of his body, the tip weeping with the evidence of his primal desire. For you.

"These pretty silks have got to go," he rasped against your ear, his breath somehow both hot and cold.

He roughly grabbed the fine fabric and you winced as you heard him rip it to shreds as easily as if your dress was made of flower petals from the garden.

Within seconds, you were bare before him, and his ravenous gaze lazily roamed over your body, savoring every dip and every curve like the sight of you alone could sate him.

Even though that couldn't be further from the truth.

When he decided that his eyes had had their fill, he brought two fingers up to prod against your lips, his gaze meeting yours, daring you to defy him.

But you didn't dare.

You submissively parted your lips and wrapped your mouth around his fingers, astonished at how much your mouth had to stretch just to accommodate them. A wicked smile tugged at his lips as your tongue danced over his digits, preparing them for exploration of another warm, wet hole.

A gasp escaped your lips as his fingers were abruptly pulled from your mouth and pushed inside your weeping cunt. They pumped and stretched you almost as much as his normal cock would, and you shuddered at the thought of what was to come.

The nerves melted away though, as his thumb found your clit and worked the sensitive nub in sweeping circles, pleasure taking over your senses and lulling you into a state of calm.

"Loki..." you whispered softly between your whimpers and pants.

He growled in response, withdrawing his fingers from your soaked pussy and wrapping his hand around your thigh, forcing your legs open as wide as they would go.

Before you had a chance to adjust to the new position, his huge cock was at your slick entrance and he thrust forward, forcing as much of himself inside you as he could, his girth stretching your walls and the tip pushing against your cervix. The sudden intrusion took your breath away, and the stinging pain you felt caused unshed tears to well in your eyes. The coldness of his skin only heightened the sensations, forcing your mouth open in a silent scream as he claimed you.

You loved him. You wanted this. You silently reminded yourself as a large blue hand found your throat once again and wrapped around tightly.

A feral moan left his lips as he began to rut into you roughly. Pushing himself in as far as your body would allow. Over and over. Chasing his own pleasure without regard for your own.

"So warm... So tight... You take me so well, pet." He grunted between thrusts. "You're mine."

You couldn't help the fresh pool of arousal that gushed between your legs in response to his words. Even as he wrecked your body and used it like a toy, you loved nothing more than being his.

His rhythm became sloppy and you knew he was close.

With a wild growl, he pulled out of you and violently flipped you over onto your stomach. You were thankful you were on the mattress and not on the floor in that moment.

His large hands dug into your hips, pulling them upwards and angling you so that he could sink himself once again into your tight cunt. You turned your head to the side, gasping for air between shameless moans as he pounded into you from behind like an animal.

It didn't take long for him to reach his peak; he let out a primal roar as he came, pumping you full of his seed. You felt it leaking out of you, dripping down your inner thighs as he continued to shallowly thrust into you while he rode out his high.

And that was the last thing you remembered before darkness blurred the edges of your vision and you succumbed to exhaustion, your body limp and spent.

Later, when you came to, you wiggled your fingers and toes first and slowly worked your way to moving each limb, assessing the soreness. There was an undeniable ache, but nothing you couldn't manage. You sat up in the bed and looked around the room, searching for Loki. Your eyes settled upon his familiar Asgardian form, huddled on the chair in the corner, as if he was putting as much distance as possible between the two of you without leaving you alone. His eyes were red, but not because of his Jotun blood. Because he had been crying.

"Loki, what's wrong?!" you frantically asked.

When he realized you were awake, he rushed to your side. "What's wrong? Love, look at what I've done to you!" He gestured to your body, to the bruises on your inner thighs, your hips, your wrists, your neck. He pointed to the mess between your thighs, to the bit of blood that was on the sheets between your legs. "I'm a monster. A vile, disgusting creature. I should have never let you do this!"

He looked away from you, ashamed.

You reached for his hand, in an effort to reassure him. "Loki, I wanted this. I wanted to help you. I insisted." Your thumb stroked the back of his hand in soothing circles, willing him to believe that you were okay. "And look! It worked. Your heat lasted only a few hours instead of weeks!"

"But at what cost?" He muttered, without meeting your gaze.

"I am your wife. We are a team, in everything. I vowed to be there for you and to love you no matter what, for better or for worse. A few bruises and some soreness are a small price to pay once a year if it means my husband isn't in agony for weeks at a time."

He sheepishly met your gaze then, peering up at you from under his eyelashes.

"I don't deserve you," he whispered softly.

"Yes you do. Because you are the most amazing person I know," you smiled easily as you said it. "Now, I did say we are a team, so if you're done sulking, I do believe it is your turn to do your part. Don't you have some magic healing powers that could soothe some of my aches, or am I misremembering?"

Now it was his turn to smile at you. He got to work straight away, a blanket of green seidr engulfing your body and buzzing through you, soothing away the worst of your residual pain. Then he spent the day spoiling you, running you a hot bath with your favorite rose scented bath oil, pampering you with a massage, and waiting on you hand and foot.

"Darling?"

"Yes, Loki?"

A wolfish grin crept across his lips. "When you've had a day or two to recover, I intend to make last night up to you, tenfold. To drown you in so much pleasure that the only word you'll remember is my name as it falls from your lips like a mantra."

You met his grin with your own cheeky smile. "And I intend to hold you to that, Laufeyson."

His lips met yours, then, in a passionate kiss; one that conveyed all the love and adoration he held for you. Your lover. Your husband. Your everything.

Spring was definitely your favorite season.

Tagging some lovely people who might be interested. No worries though if not, of course! @lokisgoodgirl @muddyorbsblr @mochie85 @cheekyscamp @give-me-a-moose @sarahscribbles @gigglingtigger @ladyofthestayingpower @mischief2sarawr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @wheredafandomat @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @loopsreacts @maple-seed @fictive-sl0th @coldnique @thomase1 @peachyjinx @superficialdomina @peaches1958 @evelyn-kingsley @simplyholl @tallseaweed @cake-writes @tripleyeeet @lokiandbuckysdoll @vbecker10 @lovelysizzlingbluebird

#rolling into spring writing challenge #beanie's double trouble sleepover #beanie's sleepover #spring writing challenge #milestone sleepover #loki #loki laufeyson #jotun loki #jotun loki x reader #loki x reader #loki x you #loki smut #loki imagine #loki fic

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devildomwriter · 5 months

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More NSFT factoids, please pleaaase and thank you! 😮‍💨✨

That was basically all of them since the game isn’t specifically for adults but maybe these facts will suffice

• When given a truth serum Mammon confessed what he really wanted to do with MC and everything had to be censored

• Satan once tried to have sex with MC in the forest after they got lost

• When MC chooses to seduce Beelzebub, anything they say works but he reacts most to MC saying they wouldn’t mind if he nibbled them.

• I forgot about this scene, but Asmodeus is also an option you can sleep with in game.

• In season two all the brothers fell under the effects of Hellfire newt syrup which is mainly used in remedies and elixirs meant to restore and revitalize the body as well as stimulate sexual desires specifically towards humans. Simeon indirectly invented it.

• Some food in the Devildom increases human pheromones to the extent even Barbatos must flee to escape giving into temptation.

• When giving advice for winning dating sims Leviathan went into such explicit detail that Satan regretted asking

• In season two Beelzebub licked remaining food off MC’s mouth.

#obey me shall we date #obey me ask #obey me nsfwish #obey me nsft #obey me fun facts #obey me mammon #obey me asmodeus #obey me Beelzebub #obey me Barbatos #obey me leviathan

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theplotmage · 3 days

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50 Worldbuilding Setting ideas for your fantasy book

Cities and Settlements

1. Capital City - The central hub of political power and culture in the realm.

2. Harbor Town - A bustling port city crucial for trade and naval activities.

3. Elf Village - A serene settlement hidden within a forest, home to elven inhabitants.

4. Dwarven Mines - An underground city where dwarves mine precious metals and gems.

5. Nomad Camp - A temporary settlement for wandering tribes and traders.

6. Market Square - The commercial heart of any major city, filled with vendors and artisans.

7. Sky City - A floating metropolis held aloft by magic or advanced technology.

Natural and Enchanted Locations

8. Mystic Forest - A dense, magical woodland filled with ancient trees and mythical creatures.

9. Enchanted Lake - A serene body of water with mystical properties.

10. Secret Cave - A hidden cavern that might contain treasure or danger.

11. Dark Swamp - A treacherous wetland often home to dark magic and creatures.

12. Forbidden Desert - A vast, arid expanse known for its harsh conditions and ancient secrets.

13. Floating Island - A landmass suspended in the sky, often home to unique flora and fauna.

14. Hidden Valley - A secluded, fertile valley protected from the outside world.

15. Charmed Meadows - Peaceful fields imbued with protective enchantments.

Magical and Supernatural Places

16. Wizard’s Tower - The abode of powerful sorcerers, filled with arcane knowledge.

17. Sacred Temple - A place of worship and spiritual significance, often protected by divine magic.

18. Haunted Castle - An ancient fortress inhabited by ghosts or malevolent spirits.

19. Necromancer’s Crypt - The lair of a dark sorcerer who practices necromancy.

20. Oracle’s Sanctuary - A holy site where oracles deliver prophecies and visions.

21. Magical Academy - An institution where young sorcerers learn the art of magic.

22. Alchemist’s Workshop - A place where alchemists experiment and create potions and elixirs.

23. Time Portal - A gateway to different eras, allowing travel through time.

Dangerous and Uncharted Areas

24. Ancient Ruins - The remnants of a once-great civilization, often hiding secrets or dangers.

25. Dragon’s Lair - The home of a fearsome dragon, filled with treasure and peril.

26. Cursed Forest - A dark, haunted woodland where malevolent forces dwell.

27. Battlefield - The site of a significant past conflict, often haunted by the spirits of the fallen.

28. Volcanic Wasteland - A desolate, fiery landscape wrought with volcanic activity.

29. Giant’s Keep - A massive fortress built and inhabited by giants.

30. Pirate Cove - A hidden inlet where pirates gather to plan their exploits.

31. Shadow Realm - A dark, parallel dimension filled with malevolent entities.

32. Frosty Tundra - A vast, icy wasteland where few dare to venture.

Cultural and Social Hubs

33. Royal Palace - The lavish residence of the ruling monarch and their court.

34. Thieves’ Guild - A secretive organization of thieves and rogues.

35. Warrior’s Training Grounds - A facility where soldiers and heroes train for battle.

36. Arena of Champions - A grand coliseum where warriors compete in combat.

37. Goblin Market - A chaotic and colorful marketplace run by goblins, offering exotic goods.

38. Hermit’s Hut - The secluded home of a wise hermit, often sought for advice.

39. Secret Hideout - A concealed refuge used by rebels or outlaws.

Mystical and Legendary Sites

40. Ethereal Gardens - Magical gardens with rare plants and enchanting beauty.

41. Celestial Observatory - A tower dedicated to studying the stars and celestial events.

42. Sanctuary of Lost Knowledge - A hidden library containing ancient and forbidden texts.

43. Sunken Ruins - The underwater remnants of a lost civilization.

44. Gryphon Nesting Grounds - A mountainous area where gryphons make their nests.

45. Spiral Staircase - An enigmatic, seemingly endless staircase leading to unknown depths.

46. Giant’s Keep - A colossal fortress built and inhabited by giants.

47. Protean Plains - A region where the landscape constantly changes, reshaped by powerful magic or ancient curses.

Adventurous and Explorative Spots

48. Treasure Hunter’s Camp - A gathering spot for explorers seeking lost relics.

49. Relic Seeker’s Cave - A cave rumored to contain powerful artifacts.

50. Explorer’s Outpost - A base for adventurers preparing for expeditions into unknown territories.

***

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hrefna-the-raven · 11 months

Text

I want to thank you

Masterlist - BG3 masterlist

Words: 2302

Warnings: drunkenness, smut (18+)

Summary: Driders shouldn't get drunk unless they stumble upon intoxicated prey...what happens in the woods, stays in the woods 😏

Your group had finally made it out of the shadow-cursed lands. Despite the protests of your companions, you decided to let the drider Kar'niss tag along your merry group of misfits. They hadn't glimpsed into his mind, seen what you've seen, so naturally they wouldn't understand your reasoning but you simply couldn't leave him to his death at Moonrise Towers, especially not after he'd decided to defy his queen and help you defeat Ketheric. And, as you journeyed together, engaged in peculiar conversations along the way, you unexpectedly grew fond of the drider's company. Approaching the first bigger village, you decided to set up camp. While your companions sought solace in the comforts of a local tavern, longing for a soft bed, you chose to remain on the outskirts of the forest, keeping Kar'niss company as he dared not reveal himself within the village. Setting up a modest tent, you kindled a small fire and couldn't help but smile as Kar'niss skillfully spun his web between the trees.

"I'll quickly head to the tavern, have a few drinks, but I'll be back quickly", you said to Kar'niss.

"Yes, yes", he mumbled somewhat distractedly, "we need to hunt, we need food, go, we'll be busy."

"Remember to not kill any villagers", you warned him sternly, receiving only a nod in response.

With sorrowful eyes, he watched as you made your way towards the village.

Two drunkards staggered towards the forest, belting out an odd melody at the top of their lungs, swinging their tankards and occasionally taking a sip. The commotion caught Kar'niss' attention, prompting him to approach them cautiously while remaining hidden in the shadows. A smile tugged at his lips as he observed them walking straight towards his web. Easy prey, he thought, licking his lips hungrily, his arachnid instincts awakening. He made his move, his eight legs carrying him silently towards the trapped men. With a swift motion, he pierced their drunken flesh, letting the crimson elixir flow into his insatiable mouth. Kar'niss moaned with delight as their blood touched his taste buds, savouring its distinct flavour that was both sweeter and more tantalizing than anything he had ever experienced. The more he drank, the hazier his mind became, intoxicated by the unfamiliar warmth that coursed through his body. Relinquishing his hold on the men, he ran his tongue across his lips, relishing every last drop of blood that clung to his face.

As Kar'niss attempted to navigate his way back to his tent, he was taken aback by the surprising turn of events. His own body seemed to betray him, causing him to stumble and sway, his numerous legs becoming tangled in a rather clumsy display. Amidst the chaos, he found himself overcome by a mixture of laughter and tears, as these emotions washed over him like a powerful wave crashing against his fragile psyche. He almost felt like being thrown back to his earliest days as a drider, when he struggled to control his unfamiliar form. However, this time, along with the sensation of warmth, there was an overwhelming sense of joy that spread throughout his chest.

You rushed towards the woods, feeling guilty for lingering at the tavern longer than planned. Your footsteps abruptly halted as you caught sight of your little camp. Next to the fire you saw Kar'niss lying on his back, which immediately felt wrong, he'd be too weary to let his guard down like this. Concern gripped you as you heard him sobbing, prompting you to sprint towards him.

"Kar'niss, are you alright? Are you injured?", you called out, but all you received in response was a playful giggle.

A peculiar scene unfolded before your eyes. He lay on his back, his eight legs lazily sprawled to the side, occasionally twitching as he sniffed one of your tunics. He clutched it tightly to his chest as though it were the most precious treasure in the world.

"Kar'niss?", you cautiously inquired as you knelt beside him.

His gaze shot upward, quickly shifting towards you as a grin spread across his face. Attempting to raise himself, he gave up halfway and slumped back onto the ground, emitting an amused sigh.

"Our beloved queen has returned," he slurred, his words drowned out by a heartfelt sob. "We've missed yoooouuuuu."

"What happened to you? Have you eaten? Are you feeling unwell?" you inquired.

The drider inhaled the scent of your tunic once more before carelessly discarding it to the side, causing it to land directly in the fire. Great there goes my last clean untorn tunic, you thought to yourself. Distracted by your last precious piece of garment catching fire, you didn't notice that the drider finally managed to turn around. He lifted himself up, only to lose his balance once again. His upper body came crashing down upon yours, burying you beneath him. You gasped for breath, realizing how close the two of you had suddenly become. His torso pressed against yours, his hair cascading down on either side of your face and the tip of his nose nearly touching yours. Seven eyes were fixated on your blushing face as Kar'niss suppressed a groan that rumbled deep within his chest.

"We've grown fond of you, new queen, you saved us", he whispered, "we-I want to thank you."

Leaning in, he clumsily pressed his lips against yours. Surprisingly, you found yourself moaning into the kiss, which he interpreted as an invitation to deepen it with his tongue. It never occurred to you that Kar'niss would know how to kiss, but it made sense considering his previous life and the charm that still radiated from his face, probably being popular among female drow back then. Squirming beneath him, your hands gently pushed his face away, breaking the kiss as you gasped for air, still trying to process what was happening in this moment.

"She doesn't desire us, we are not deserving, we apologize," he muttered, attempting to retreat, but you refused to release him. Instead, you delved into his thoughts, seeking the memories of this evening. You witnessed the presence of two men from the tavern, observing how Kar'niss consumed their blood before stumbling towards your tent. It finally dawned on you: he was drunk, completely and utterly inebriated, without any restrictions, fear or doubt holding his true self back, baring his vulnerability to you.

The irony of the situation amused you; amidst all the trials you had faced, being trapped beneath an intoxicated drider who held affection for you was definitely an unexpected turn of events. With the connection severed, Kar'niss playfully nudged your cheek with his nose, demanding your undivided attention once more.

"We saw your memories too", he whispered, "secret glances, racing pulse, concealed thoughts."

Your eyes widened in shock and fear, realising that he had rummaged through your mind as well, finding feelings you'd planned to keep hidden.

"You desire us-me, you desire me", his voice sounded so fragile in this moment, "despite this curse, shattered, undeserving, ugly, you desire me."

His lips quivered as he tried to grasp onto your feelings for him, his heart aching as it experienced the love and desire it believed it would never feel again. You pulled him closer to you, your lips meeting his in a more intense kiss this time. Kar'niss moaned, feeling your hips pressing against his, your connection reigniting, both of your desires intertwining in a flawless symphony of lust. His hands delicately caressed your body, as if afraid that his sharp claws might accidentally tear your skin. Moans of pleasure escaped from your mouth, occasionally muffled by his passionate kisses, as you felt something firm pressing against your clothed arousal. Your curiosity led your eyes to glance downwards, where you noticed a long hard skin coloured member nestled between two plates, just above the point where his drow and spider forms merged. A question formed in your mind, but before you could ask, he released you from his embrace and moved away.

"We were her ultimate failure, condemned to this existence, never to experience love, yet burdened with desires and the potential for intimacy", tears streamed down his face as he revealed the truth. You focused on flooding his mind with your love for him, the deep affection you held, and the burning cravings to be with him in his current form. Looking into his eyes, you severed the connection with one final statement: she was mistaken, I desire every part of you.

Perhaps it was the lingering influence of the alcohol or the consequence of the emotional barrier finally shattering completely, but it awakened a primal desire within Kar'niss. A wild instinct overtook his entire being as he pounced on you, violently tearing your garments apart with his razor-sharp claws. Before you could even process a fleeting moment of sadness for yet another piece of clothing shuffled off this mortal coil, his hardened length pressed against your wet folds. Your gaze shot upward, witnessing Kar'niss losing himself in the throes of pleasure. His many eyes shut tight, his mouth agape, and his tongue flicking over his lips as a deep growl reverberated from deep within his chest. The scene before you was captivating, etching itself into the depths of your being. A resounding moan escaped your lips as your hips involuntarily bucked, causing him to slide effortlessly inside you.

More moans escaped your lips, blending with the passionate cries of his name as he stretched and filled you entirely. Both of you gasped for breath and remained motionless for a brief moment, relishing in the sensation of being so perfectly intertwined with both your minds and bodies. Kar'niss slurred unintelligible words, his eight legs struggling to support him as one arm wrapped around you, pulling you close against his body. With great effort, he managed to stand up, still burried deep inside you, but the intoxication was still taking a toll on his coordination and he stumbled forward. Barely avoiding the nearby tent, his other hand slammed against a tree trunk for stability, causing your back to collide with the rough bark. The sudden movement caused Kar'niss to slide even deeper inside you, evoking a shared groan of pleasure. Your inner walls tightened around him, on the brink of orgasm from the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body. Desiring more of him, your fingers curled around his neck, drawing him in for a passionate kiss. Your tongue eagerly explored his mouth, intensifying the connection between you. Kar'niss's body moved with a swiftness that surpassed his thoughts, struggling to grasp the euphoric situation he found himself in. His hips immediately began thrusting into you at a brutal pace. His heart threatened to burst from his chest as exhaustion spread through his body, yet every fiber of his being was determined to persist. Eventually, his legs trembled and gave way, causing both of you to collapse onto the tent, tearing it down in the process. In a desperate attempt to maintain balance, Kar'niss's claws slid off and left deep marks in the tree bark. However, neither of you cared about the chaos surrounding you as he continued to ravish you relentlessly while you moaned loud enough for all of Faerûn to hear you. In between panting breaths, Kar'niss uttered your name as his length twitched inside you as he filled you with his seed. With two final thrusts, he pulled out just before your own orgasm consumed you.

You were about to huff in protest when he forcefully pinned you to the ground, growling fiercely before he settled between your legs and his tongue eagerly began to flick at your clit. Your mind spun as you felt him suck on you, his tongue delving deep into your entrance to lick up the mingling of your fluids with his own.

"Gooooood....moooore", he mumbled against your wetness before sucking at your clit once more.

You could feel your climax approaching rapidly again and just as you were about to reach it, he thrust two of fingers inside you, pushing you right over the edge of pleasure. You cried out his name, your hands grasping onto his hair as your legs twitched and trembled. Kar'niss chuckled softly, gently lifting you up and stumbling unsteadily towards his web in the trees. He settled down, cradling you in his arms, ensuring your safety so you wouldn't fall.

You couldn't recall the exact moment you drifted off to sleep, but as you awakened to the animated discussions of two awfully familiar voices, it dawned on you that you were not inside your tent and the sun had already risen. Startled, you bolted upright, oblivious to the fact that you were entangled in a spider's web among the branches. Without warning, you tumbled forward, nearly letting out a scream until an arm swiftly caught you, pulling you back against a comforting form. When you turned your head, you discovered Kar'niss nestled in the web, still sound asleep while holding you tightly with a contented smile on his face. As you glanced down, you noticed Gale and Astarion standing by your tent. Gale appeared visibly agitated, gesticulating wildly, until the pale elf's eyes met yours, his face adorned with a self-satisfied grin.

"Oh I know exactly what kind of animal went on a rampage here last night", the vampire chuckled, "but rest assured, she is not present. It is likely that she slept elsewhere and will join us shortly at the tavern."

"How can you be so certain?", Gale huffed, crossing his arms.

"Gale, darling, I simply know", Astarion smirked, taking Gale's arm and leading him back to the village.

As they walked away, Astarion turned his head one last time to wink at you. It was clear that this day was going to be a tedious one, filled with questions you had no desire to answer.

Tags:

@orionspaperwork

#baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 smut #bg3 x reader #bg3 x you #kar'niss x reader #kar'niss x you #bg3 kar'niss #kar'niss #karniss #drunk Kar'niss #smut #bg3 gale #astarion

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joelslegalwhre · 2 years

Text

Thank you sm! And thanks for the request love, i hope you like it <3

Destiny

pairing⁀➷ geralt of rivia x fem!reader

word count⁀➷ 1.5k

summary⁀➷ Geralt finds you injured in the woods (more in the ask)

warnings⁀➷ soft!geralt, fluff, mention of blood and injuries, swearing (only once tho), use of y/n once

a/n⁀➷ As always, tell me if I missed a warning please!

🥤my kofi if you’d like to leave a tip🩷

You had expected this day to be different. You were supposed to help your uncle and learn more about herbology so that one day, you would know as much as he does about taking care of the people in the village.

Not lying here, on the slightly damp forest ground.

It would be a long walk back to the village, and your wounds and aches would not make it any easier. Your limbs felt heavy. Your body ached. And before you could fight back, you were defeated by tiredness.

Your eyes opened abruptly as you became aware of sounds coming closer and closer to you. A horse was coming towards you, on it an incredibly muscular man who looked familiar to you.

You had never met him before, but when he came closer and you saw his bright amber eyes, you knew who he was, what he was.

When he saw you, lying there on one of the big roots, he quickly got off his horse.

"Wait here, Roach." he told the horse.

Fear washed over you as he slowly approached you.

"Please, don't hurt me." Your voice was soft, almost a whisper. But witchers could hear better than ordinary people, he had heard it clearly enough.

The witcher stopped for a second and seemed… offended? He shook his head slightly and looked you in the eyes.

"I won't hurt you." His voice was low. Incredibly deep.

There was sincere in his voice, it almost gave you goosebumps.

He was terribly attractive, and his eyes both frightened and fascinated you. He came closer and closer to you and you could only follow him with your eyes. Your fear had eased a little, but it wasn't completely gone.

"It's not that bad," you said quietly as his eyes examined your wound. "I just need to rest a bit before I-" you made a hissing sound as he lifted the fabric covering the wound. "You are not fine." he grumbled.

He knew you wouldn't be able to walk one step on your own without collapsing. As the witcher walked to his horse and took an elixir-like phial from one of the pockets, he asked,

"What happened to you, who did this?" his voice almost sounded angry. But not because of you.

"I was gathering herbs. My uncle needs them to medicate the people in the village. And-" you had to swallow at the thought of the attack.

"There were three-three men. They were looking for someone." The witcher grimaced in anger, as if he already knew what they wanted.

"They wanted to know where the Butcher of Blaviken was."

He said nothing but an annoyed "hmm," his hand still holding the fabric so as not to cover the wound on your hip.

The witcher looked you in the eye, and up close, his own ones were even more special.

"Don't move." he demanded and you nodded. Then he dripped some of the elixir into the wound. It burned like fire.

"Ahh fuck!" you had to bite your lip to stop swearing. "It'll be over in a moment." He took your hand and nodded at you encouragingly. You squeezed his hand so hard that your fingers almost started to hurt.

"Breathe, can you do that for me?" He spoke so calmly and collectedly. You looked at him again, his gaze never leaving your face the whole time. Then you took a deep breath, as deep as you could under the pain. And as quickly as the pain had come, it was gone again.

You were breathing heavily and it felt like you had been running for hours. The witcher bandaged your wound and looked you in the eyes again. The fear you normally had of his kind, fear that was taught as a child, was now completely gone. If he hadn't come to find you, you would still be lying here now and would probably faint in no time.

He had saved you.

"What's your name?" you asked the witcher quietly as he lowered the bloody piece of cloth onto the tended and protected wound. He inhaled sharply. "It's okay if you don't-" you started but he spike over you. "Geralt of Rivia." He replied.

Your lips parted a little. You blinked in surprise as you looked at him. Geralt had gotten up and walked to his horse to put the vial back. Quietly you whispered, "The Butcher of Blaviken."

He turned to face you, "I'm sorry they attacked you."

You were astonished, because you didn't expect an apology. Actually, he had nothing to apologise about either. After all, the men were not acting on his orders.

You smiled at him weakly. Suddenly everything felt so exhausting, breathing, being able to see, everything.

"It's the potion," Geralt answered your unasked question. "It makes you tired, to heal your wounds in your sleep."

"Oh." you said softly, before you felt two strong arms lift you up. Then you fell asleep.

Geralt entered the small village on Roach, and you laying safely in his arms.

All conversation died down when they noticed the witcher.

However, when they saw you in his arms, some began to whisper.

„He's a witcher!" "What does he want with her?" "Did he kill her?" "Where did he come from?"

Geralt knew exactly where to take you. A healer was usually quick to find, but especially in such a small village. "Stop Roach."

He got down, careful not to hurt you.

Your uncle opened the door before Geralt could knock, but when he saw you, his face paled. "Y/N-" His gaze went to the blood on your coat then darted to the witcher.

"She needs to lie down." Geralt commanded. He looked at your uncle with a penetrating gaze.

"What have you done to her, Witcher?" There was hatred and disgust in his voice.

"I healed her." Geralt replied dryly.

He pushed past your uncle and quickly found what he was looking for.

He carefully laid you down on the small bed.

Your uncle hurried after the witcher, but when he saw you, he realised that what Geralt had said was true.

Your coat was bloody but the wound looked well taken care of. "I put a potion in her wound, it should work. She'll have to sleep for a while for that to happen though." Geralt sat down on the floor beside your bed and leaned his back against it.

Your uncle looked overwhelmed, but he knew well enough that there was nothing he could do now.

"Thank you, Witcher.".

"Hmm." Geralt simply replied.

While your uncle went to his herbs to make you some tea, Geralt closed his eyes and took a deep breath in and out.

With a loud gasp, you woke up. You looked around in confusion, as you saw familiar walls and herbs, the ground was softer than before in the forest. As you slowly sat up, leaning on one elbow, you knew you were home.

Something moved beside your bed. No, not something, someone. Geralt stood up and looked at you with a soft gaze. "How are you?" he asked in his deep voice.

Your eyes went to your wound, or to the place where it had been. Your skin was completely healed, no cuts, no blood. You brushed your finger lightly over it, but it didn't even hurt anymore.

"Thank you." you whispered gratefully without really answering his question. "Thank you Geralt."

You stood up and in a matter of seconds you wrapped your arms around his strong torso. "Thank you." you mumbled into his chest once more.

Geralt was surprised, and at first he just stared down at you. You still had your arms wrapped around him when he carefully put one arm around your waist, then the other. He smelled terrible but that didn't matter right now.

He had saved you. You looked up at him, still in the embrace. Something in his eyes had changed, his look had changed. You didn't know what it was.

Geralt, however, knew, and he could not suppress it.

The way you looked at him without any fear, how you had thanked him so many times. Nothing even suggested that you thought he was the monster so many people saw him as.

Slowly his arms moved down your back. Your faces were so close that you could see the finest, smallest scars on his face. Geralt could hear your heart beating, not evenly but fast and irregularly. You looked into his amber eyes the ones that had even followed you into your sleep.

His hands pulled you closer and the moment, when his lips met yours, fast yet slow, hungry yet gentle, felt like time had stopped. As if there was only this moment, only the two of you. Your fingers played with Geralt's hair, feeling his strong neck and pulling him down even further towards you.

When you had to gasp for air and your lips parted, he still held you close to him. You bit your lip as you looked at him. Geralt exhaled heavily. "I don't believe in destiny," you whispered. "But you might've changed that."

༄ Don't copy, translate or republish any of my works on any app or other platform please. I only post my work on Tumblr and Wattpad.

Reposts are always appreciated, they really make my day🧡

#geralt x f!reader #geralt x you #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt x y/n #geralt imagine #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia #witcher geralt #the witcher x female reader #the witcher x you #the witcher x y/n #the witcher x reader #the witcher #henry cavill x fem!reader #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill #e writes #e writes ‚the witcher‘#em's masterlist

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pocketjoong · 1 year

Text

❥𓂃𓏧PRECIOUS

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (SYNOPSIS) As a nature witch, you always wanted your own familiar ever since you were a kid, however, fate seemed to have different plans for you.

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (PAIRING) cat boy!hongjoong x fem!reader

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (WARNINGS) Hongjoong is a cat. mentions of food and drinking. a little bit of violence. mentions of getting injured. questionable editing. lmk if I am missing something

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (WORD COUNT) 8.9k

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (NOTES) My entry for the stuck in summer collab hosted by @a1sh1teruu. This was mainly inspired by cat boy!hwa fic written by @hwaightme! I always enjoy feedback, reviews, and asks so don't hesitate to comment/send an ask!

Humming to yourself, you lock the door to your quaint little cottage nestled in the heart of the woods. Your basket, which is brimming with aromatic herbs and meticulously crafted potions, dangles from your arm as you set toward the nearby town. There’s a spring in your step that reflects the life thriving in the flora around you. As a nature witch, you prefer to live in your element; hence, your chosen abode rests at the forest’s edge, a mere mile from the bustling town you call home.

This distance necessitates a journey by foot, a mile-long expedition riddled with untamed trails and serpentine streams. The unpaved path is untouched by humanity, offering no comfort of a well-trodden road, but in its midst—intertwined with the symphony of rustling leaves, bubbling brooks, and the whispered secrets of the trees—you feel at home.

As you amble past the outskirts of the town, a voice pierces through the tranquil air of the early morning. You falter at the unexpected call of your name and gaze past a waist-high fence to witness Miyeon—the daughter of a fellow witch and cherished friend—hurrying down her front yard with a bundle of fur resting in her arms.

“Y/N! Look! I found my very own familiar,” she says, words brimming with pride and joy.

Your smile broadens as you congratulate her on her newfound magical connection. As you fuss over the young girl, your friend arrives, scolding her daughter for leaving her breakfast unfinished on the table. After exchanging cordial greetings and a gossip-laden exchange, you bid them adieu, recommencing your journey to Wooyoung’s shop.

As you leave behind the jovial mother-daughter duo, your once-beaming smile begins to wane, usurped by the pang in your chest. The yearning for a familiar casts a shadow upon your heart. Your dreams and visions of such a bond had been nurtured by tales of your parents’ harmonious connection with their own familiars and a childhood fantasy that stemmed from watching and re-watching Kiki’s Delivery Service. Usually, you can easily ward off these dark thoughts, allowing them to be no more than a passing whisper. But today, the loneliness of being a witch without a familiar resurfaces with a melancholic tenacity that defies dismissal.

“Why the long face?”

Your response to the unexpected voice is a startled screech before you realise that it’s only Wooyoung who is standing at the window of his shop. The playful curve of his lips and the fond glint in his eyes prompt you to mutter a curse under your breath—more in playful annoyance than actual resentment.

You met Jung Wooyoung right after you found yourself in Alusia when you were a bright-eyed young witch, fresh out of the academy. He owned an antique shop inherited from his grandparents and was new in the town too, having arrived only a week prior. In his willingness to find a friend, Wooyoung offered you shelter under his roof when you needed it most—a gesture that solidified the foundations of an unbreakable friendship. Soon, the two of you converted the antique shop into an apothecary—a venture carved from your joint dreams and driven by your unique talents. Wooyoung, with his inherent charm (or, as your mutual friend San teasingly referred to it as Wooyoung being a loudmouth), engaged with clients while you prepared the elixirs and potions that graced the shop’s shelves.

“You are such a menace, Woo,” you tease, rolling your eyes playfully in mock exasperation as you step into the shop, extending the basket to him. He lifts the lid carefully to reveal its contents, his enthusiasm palpable as he thoroughly inspects your offerings. “You are an angel, you know that?! I was running low on most of these and—oh?” In a burst of affection, he engulfs you in an unexpected hug, “You've finished Mrs Kim's potion already? You truly are a wonder, Y/N.”

By the time you step out of the shop to return home, it’s past noon, and the sun is high in the sky, casting a glow that makes you squint against its brilliance. But you smile despite the temporary discomfort because the warmth of the summer sun serves as a reminder of your cherished garden. The thought of the flourishing herbs and thriving plants in your backyard makes you smile.

Skipping lightly across the worn, flat stones that act as a bridge over the clear stream, you revel in the prospect of returning home after an exhausting week. The last few days were a flurry of ceaseless activity—the sheer number of concoctions to prepare left you without a moment to catch your breath. So, the mere idea of spending the rest of the day simply resting without worrying about tasks and obligations sounds heavenly. With each step that leads you closer to your home, a sense of serenity unfurls within you, anticipation blossoming like the flowers that line both sides of your path.

On your way, you come across another stream, its gurgling rhythm a soothing undercurrent to your thoughts. Just as you approach it, however, a soft rustling pierces the air, causing you to halt in your tracks. Your brows furrow and your gaze sweeps the landscape for the source of the sound. Nothing seems amiss, yet the sight of a fawn preoccupied with a hidden something beneath the swaying grass causes you to move closer.

A gasp, involuntary and hushed, escapes your lips as your eyes land on a jet-black cat, its form huddled against the earth, a stark contrast against the vibrant backdrop of nature. However, it’s not the feline’s presence that startles you, but its pitiable state. Laboured breaths escape the creature, and the emerald blades beneath it are smeared in crimson blood. Without much thought, you scoop the injured feline into your arms. Careful of its wounds, you break into a brisk pace, your heart beating in tandem with your desperate urgency.

Foregoing the cottage, you bring the cat to the outhouse that doubles as your workspace. There, you tenderly set it upon a generously sized cushion at the far table. Despite the anxiety riddling your thoughts, your hands are steady as you collect the required ingredients to heal him. Gratitude unfurls within you for the foresight that ensured your own provisions remained well-stocked, even as you had taken most of the supplies to the apothecary.

Once you’re armed with everything you will need, you fuss over the wounded feline. As you carefully begin healing the cat, a whispered prayer escapes your lips—an offering of gratitude to the nature spirits that guided you to the cat for if you had been even a few minutes late, he would not have survived whatever ordeal had led to his pitiful condition. As you work, the sun dips beneath the horizon, casting hues of purple and orange in the sky. The cat’s exhausted form eventually surrenders to peaceful slumber, and though relieved, you still find yourself unable to depart for the comforts of your cottage.

Fetching the futon that you use when the making of a potion demands vigilant oversight, you nestle into its warmth. From the glass ceiling, you smile at the star-strewn sky that arches above you. Like this, under the watchful gaze of the constellations, you fall asleep, unknowing that your life is now intertwined with the cat’s own.

Your eyes flutter open to the soft morning sunlight piercing through the windows of the outhouse and your gaze shifts to the feline. You smile as you see the cat is doing better and leave the cat to its peaceful slumber to fix up a quick breakfast for yourself, only returning with a list of potions you must deliver to the shop the following week.

You put your phone onto your desk and begin your work, enveloped in a symphony of tranquil melodies that mirror the serenity of the forest that lies merely a few paces from where you stand. As you are immersed in your craft, the sun reaches its zenith, casting its warmth upon your workspace. As you work, a subtle shift draws your attention—a faint movement that you catch in the corner of your vision.

Turning to the source of movement, your eyes settle upon the cat, the creature finally stirring from its slumber. Wariness born from a shared unfamiliarity—yours with its nature, and its with yours—causes you to stay where you are. You wait with bated breath as the little guy brings his paws to his eyes to rub them, followed by a languid stretch. A yowl of discomfort leaves him, echoing through the space, and you can’t help but inhale sharply at his distress; he probably hears it because the very next moment, he’s on his paws and hissing at you.

You observe him with a mixture of understanding and patience, knowing that such a response comes from the fear and uncertainty of finding oneself in unfamiliar surroundings. You raise both your hands to show that you mean no harm.

“Hey, it's okay,” your voice flows with reassurance, carrying with it an aura of compassion that you hope the cat can sense. “You're safe here, I promise. Please, just… rest some more. Moving might cause more harm than good right now, and it took me a while to treat those wounds of yours.”

The cat’s eyes narrow in distrust as his eyes rake over your form. Eventually, however, his cautious resolve gives way, and with a subdued huff, he eases back onto the cushion. You can tell that he is still wary of your presence, so you return to your task.

Stirring the potion, you softly break the silence. “You know, you’ve been out for almost a day. I was growing rather concerned, to be honest.” The cat tilts its head subtly, almost as if he’s curious, so you continue your train of thought. “Your injuries were quite severe. It’s a relief to see you awake.”

As the hours tick by, you remain absorbed in your work. Bottles and vials are filled with elixirs and put into another basket, each labelled with care and precision. While you work, you can feel the cat’s watchful gaze upon you. Once your tasks are completed, you shift your attention to your companion, who is now fast asleep. The feline, who was so cautious of you merely hours ago, now embodies a tranquillity that makes your lips quirk up at the corners. As you tidy your workspace, your heart brims with warmth, and once done, you begin preparations for lunch in your cottage.

The golden rays of the sun filter through your kitchen windows, illuminating your countertop as you cook a simple yet hearty lunch. You walk out of the kitchen, wanting to awaken the cat to give him some food, but as you enter the living room, a curious sight awaits your gaze. The cat is seated in front of the coffee table, blinking at you lazily. At his curious behaviour, your magic reaches out gently, a fleeting touch that reveals nothing out of the ordinary, causing you to hum in confusion.

Armed with food, you step closer to your companion, emboldened by the silent affirmation that he won’t run away. “Would you mind if I turn on the TV?” Your query hangs in the air, and a melodic meow is the only answer you get before he’s diving headfirst into the meal you had prepared. Considering his response a go-ahead, you tune into Pirates of the Caribbean, the movie becoming a backdrop to your shared meal.

As the credits of the first movie start to roll, you can sense wariness in the cat’s watchful eyes, but this morning’s feral hiss has yielded to a tentative harmony. Noticing how entranced the cat is by the movie, you don’t turn it off as you clean the dishes, a gesture that you suspect he appreciates. Returning to the living room on completion of your chores, you find the once-restless creature nestled upon the sofa in cosy contentment—an image that both warms your heart and fascinates you.

You settle into the opposite end of the couch, and open your grandmother's book of remedies. The sounds from the TV fade into background noise as you read through the tome, and you can’t help but think about how oddly domestic this moment seems.

Emboldened by how relaxed your new companion looks, you decide to talk to him. “Hey, buddy, would you mind if I checked on your wound? Just to make sure it's healing the way it should?”

The feline responds with a subtle shift—a repositioning that unveils its wounded side. As you approach, your heart swells due to the delicate trust blooming between you. If you’re surprised by how quickly he is healing, you don’t let it be known. “Looks like you will be fine by the end of the week. I’d love for you to stay here with me until then, but the choice is yours.”

Your offer hangs in the air for a moment before he meows, sealing the agreement. The cat settles back into the same position in which he’d been watching the movie, so you assume that means he’s going to stay in cat-speak.

Yet, a lingering thought flits through your mind—the matter of a name. “What do we name you, though?” you ponder aloud, your voice a soft murmur. You drop random names that seem fitting for a cat. Most receive only a nonchalant disregard, save for an outright hiss at the name “minion”.

As you are at your wits’ end, an idea strikes you. “What about Captain... Jack Sparrow?” The last part is whispered, so you don’t know if he heard, but you’d shorten it to Captain anyways, so in your humble opinion, it is the perfect name.

In the wake of your suggestion, the feline’s eyes light up in affirmation, making you smile. “Okay then, Captain it is,” you declare softly, marking the beginning of a bond, one forged in the quiet moments and shared names bridging the divide between the two of you.

In a surprising twist, Captain Jack Sparrow defies your initial expectations by choosing not to leave your cottage even after his recovery. The once-wounded feline weaves his presence into the very fabric of your life in the form of a plush cat bed nestled within a spare room. Though, in hindsight, it was an unnecessary purchase as the bed remains pristine and untouched, while the cat himself stakes claim to your couches and book-laden shelves.

During the day, the uppermost shelf of your work area becomes Captain’s sanctuary, where he slumbers amidst the tomes stacked alphabetically. With time, Captain inches closer, from lower shelves to the corner of your very table—a silent testament to the trust that has bloomed between the two of you.

Then, one day, the gentle touch of a paw upon your hand breaks through your concentration. Wide-eyed, you find yourself captivated by the slumbering form of Captain. For the next hour, you don’t dare move your hand, driven by the irrational belief that any movement on your part could shatter the delicate companionship you’ve woven over months of shared moments.

The seconds stretch like an eternity, yet you remain still. When Captain awakens to find you in such a vulnerable state, his response is one that eases your fears—a gentle nudge of his nose against your hand in gratitude and acknowledgement and leaves before you can process what happened.

That night onwards, you find Captain curled up at the top of your closet during the night. The first few times, the sight of his glowing orbs startles you, but with time, you find yourself comforted by this silent guardian who watches over you as you slumber. When you tell Wooyoung about this, his response is one of gentle reassurance. “He probably watches over you to protect you as you sleep during the night.”

Speaking of Wooyoung, the first time you ask Captain to accompany the town on your visit, he seems a little sceptical. “It’s your choice, Captain. If you don’t want to, that’s perfectly alright. I just thought you would like some change of scenery,” you tell him. As you gather your belongings and secure your cottage, you expect Captain to stay back. However, as you lock the door, you find him perched upon the fence, waiting for you. And when you introduce Captain to Wooyoung, it is a new experience, to say the least. Laughter spills forth as you are unable to suppress your mirth as Captain scratches your friend’s hand in an instinctive response to Wooyoung’s attempt to lift him into his arms.

“You have adopted a devil, Y/N,” he screeches, pointing at Captain while cradling his arm protectively. Your cat, on the other hand, is sitting on his haunches while licking his paw—the picture of angelic innocence.

“Please, I would scratch you too if you tried to scare me. The only reason I don’t is because you’d whine about it for days. Captain might just be the guardian I need to keep you in check, aren’t you, bud?” The answering meow causes another round of joyous laughter to burst forth from your lips.

You’d think Captain’s initial aloofness would deter Wooyoung but, Captain's coldness only seems to fuel your friend’s determination as he tries everything he can to get Captain to like him—from treats to gentle pets to whimsical trinkets—all in an attempt to win over the feline. Yet, Captain remains steadfast, his indifference to these gestures firmly intact. And it is not as if this attitude is reserved for Wooyoung alone.

Ever since that first trip where he accompanied you, Captain follows you each time you visit Alusia. As you navigate the streets of the town, he treads his own path, a few paces away and often on higher surfaces while you go about your business. The townspeople, on learning of your feline companion, attempt to win his affection, but he doesn’t seem like people (or people touching him), so eventually, they give up trying. However, he still accepts treats from them despite you telling them not to, but the way he looks at you has you quickly going back on your words. How can you say no when he looks at you with his large eyes that seem to hold entire universes within them?

During one such trip to Alusia, a jewellery shop captures your attention for a moment, but as your mind is preoccupied with the bubbling concoction back at the outhouse, you walk past the display without lingering. In your haste, you don’t even realise that Captain has stopped in front of the big window and isn’t following you. It is only the sensation of something amiss that prompts you to retrace your steps, leading you to the forlorn figure of Captain seated before the shop—a sight that tugs at your heartstrings.

A sigh escapes your lips as you crouch beside him. “Would you like to explore what the shop has to offer?” you inquire gently, recognising the twinkle in Captain's gaze as he looks up at you.

Though your feline companion is a delight to be around, sometimes you can’t help but be sceptical of the little guy. You have often caught him reading your journals or tomes as if he understands them, prompting speculation about his understanding of human knowledge. Yet, those notions are quickly discarded when he settles onto the page with a languid yawn. “Cap’n, my books are not cushions for napping,” you always chide him in playful exasperation, only to be met with a dismissive glare and a subsequent shift into your lap. Amongst all his quirks, one stands out—his remarkable understanding of human speech. Whenever you ask him something, he answers with a meow or a hiss (it’s easy to tell which is for which), just like how he answers your question about the shop with a meow.

With a nod, you offer your arms as a welcoming perch for Captain to leap into and enter the quaint shop. The glittering array of chokers fascinates him, prompting you to lead him towards the displays. He studies each piece carefully, and at the end of this impromptu stop, Captain is adorned with a collar—which is more of a choker, really. A topaz moon and vibrant red marigold pendants grace his new accessory, shining beautifully as the sunlight hits them.

For the rest of the week, Captain's spirited headbutts and unabashed demonstrations of fondness keep you on your toes, simultaneously warming your heart and distracting you from your potion-making. His playfulness leads you to scold him gently because you are worried that he could get hurt while you work. “Cap’n, I know you love your new collar, but I need to concentrate on my work, or you could get hurt.” Despite your reprimand, his adoration remains undeterred, but he does quiet down as you work and lingers nearby, a reassuring presence amid your bustling workspace.

Weeks pass, and one night in mid-August, you are jolted from your sleep by a distressing nightmare—a rare occurrence for you as you rarely dream. Gasping for breath, your magic surges instinctively, tethering you to the calming embrace of the forest that surrounds your home.

As your panic settles and you feel calmer than before, you reach for the glass of water on your nightstand, only to be startled when a pair of glowing eyes meet your gaze from the heights of your closet. It’s a familiar sight, yet the remnants of the unsettling dream create a tremor within you.

“Captain Jack Sparrow, you nearly gave me a heart attack.” Your hand instinctively rests over your pounding heart as you chide him, the mixture of residual fear making your voice tremble.

Observing your distress, Captain gently descends from his vantage point to the expanse of your bed. A soft meow accompanies his movements, and his eyes seek yours before he nuzzles his head against your side. Sighing, you relent, succumbing to his affection. Your touch is tender and reassuring as you pet his head gently, “It’s alright, buddy. I didn't mean to scold you. I was just startled by the nightmare.”

Cocooned in the soft cotton sheets, you lay back down to go back to sleep and notice Captain curling up by your side with a gentle purr. His tail encircles your wrist in a protective gesture as if trying to ward off the shadows that threaten to disturb your sleep. From that night onwards, most nights, you awaken to find him nestled by your feet or right by your pillow—a silent guardian whose comforting aura intertwines with the magic that surrounds you.

Time passes and one season transitions into the next, and before you know it, you’ve been living with Captain Jack Sparrow for almost a year. As yet another summer rolls around, you notice his presence has brought profound happiness to your existence. While he may not be the familiar you once yearned for, he has become a source of unwavering support, and his mere presence never fails to brighten up your days.

However, there’s an unexpected shift in Captain’s behaviour one day, he seems restless, and it only intensifies during the night. Despite your attempts to understand what’s wrong, you can’t seem to figure it out, which leaves you both perturbed and anxious. As dawn breaks, you decide professional insight is necessary and bring Captain to the town’s vet, only to be told that your cat is in perfect health. Though baffled, you’re relieved to know that Captain is not in any particular danger. On your way back home, you venture into the apothecary only to be met with a frantic San and aghast Wooyoung.

“What's wrong?” You ask softly, only for Wooyoung to burst into sobs as he throws himself into your arms.

Turning your gaze to San, his weary visage reflects the toll whatever ordeal he has gone through has taken on him. His voice is a blend of exhaustion and urgency as he relays the heartbreaking news to you, “Miyeon vanished in the forest. She had been working on her first test as a witch-in-training and didn’t return.”

You know how important the test is, for it is the first step in any witch’s path towards the prestigious academy in the capital. San continues to explain that when the young girl didn’t return home, even as the stars twinkled in the rapidly darkening sky, her mother raised an alarm and the townspeople searched for her throughout the night to no avail.

“It’s as if she vanished into thin air, Y/N,” San’s voice is filled with the fatigue of fruitless searching and worry for Miyeon.

Your brows furrow, “Do you have any idea where she might have gone missing?”

San shakes his head with a sigh, “The only thing we found was her bracelet, and that was miles away from where she should’ve been—near the rocky caves close to the mountains.”

The information stirs a gasp from your lips, for the mountains lie nearly fifty miles away from Alusia’s borders. “But that's miles away. How could she have ended up there?”

Weariness is evident in every line of San’s face as he levels you with a sorrowful look, “No one knows.”

Days stretch on, heavy with a gnawing sense of uncertainty, as Miyeon’s absence continues to hang upon Alusia like a dark cloud that just won’t leave. The ominous shadows that loom over the forest deepen as more individuals vanish without a trace, their fates shrouded in a veil of mystery that defies explanation. Countless efforts have been in vain, leaving everyone in a state of collective apprehension. Venturing into the heart of the forest with San and Wooyoung, you’ve even journeyed to the rocky caves where the bracelet had been discovered. However, you find no tangible clues, and the sombre truth of your fruitless attempts sinks in.

Weirdly enough, amidst the sense of dread and uncertainty that surrounds the town and the forest, your cottage emerges as a safe haven. Whether the protective spells you’ve cast around its perimeter have deterred the sinister force or some other unknown factor is at play, whatever has been prowling in the forest doesn’t seem to approach your home. Your heart fills with relief at this, for it ensures the safety of not only yourself but also of your feline companion.

Captain has been venturing into the forest stealthily; however, you’re attuned to the subtle shifts that accompany his absence. Despite your worry, you permit him these solitary ventures as not only is your confidence in his instincts unwavering, but you also know that he wouldn’t stray too far to put himself in jeopardy. True to your belief, he returns to your side by the time you’re done with the day’s work.

However, one day when Captain doesn’t come back home by dusk, you reach out to Wooyoung, informing him that you will set out in search of your cat. Your friend’s apprehension is palpable even through the texts, and he reminds you of the prevailing danger that has claimed Miyeon and others, yet your determination overrides his caution.

Urgency propels you into the forest’s depths as the sun sets even further, washing the canopy above you in shadows that stretch like fingers reaching out to pull you into their darkness. An unsettling hush descends upon the surrounding area, a peculiar silence that leaves you both aware and wary. Your senses are on high alert as you advance deeper into the foliage and look for your cat.

As you spot a clearing in front of you that is bathed in the ethereal glow of twilight, you notice Captain Jack Sparrow in the middle, his attention fixed on an unseen presence shrouded within the trees on the other side.

“Captain?” At the sound of your voice, his head whips around, his meow fraught with urgency. As he hurries to your side, his head nudging against your leg, you recognise his plea for you to retreat.

“I’m not leaving without you,” you tell him softly but with enough conviction in your voice that elicits a resigned meow from Captain.

He positions himself in front of you, his lithe form a protective barrier between you and the hidden danger that holds his attention. The silence seems to pulse with malevolent energy, and the hairs on your arms stand on end as you brace yourself for what awaits.

And then, from the gap between the trees, steps out a figure that you have only seen within the pages of the books you’ve read—a demon. His arrival disrupts the eerie stillness, his form emanating an aura that sends a shiver coursing down your spine. Horns, reminiscent of an infernal crown, emerge from tufts of his long hair. Intricate tattoos wind their way along his arms like serpents of darkness, and wings resembling a bat's silhouette stretch ominously, casting shadows that dance in tune with the forest’s secrets. The deep crimson glow of his eyes sears a path into your very soul, leaving you trembling beneath his gaze.

Your heart beats wildly within your chest, your senses keenly aware of the danger that emanates from this being. As the realisation that you stand before a high demon dawns upon you, you cannot help but inhale sharply.

Though fear courses through your veins, your mind functions with remarkable clarity. A plan takes shape, and your instinct for self-preservation and the well-being of those you hold dear compels you to act. Fingers trembling, you manage to send a discreet message to Wooyoung and tell him to bring a priest whose knowledge and skills would be able to banish this entity back where he belongs.

Beside you, Captain Jack Sparrow emits another series of hisses, his agitation a mirror to your own. The feline’s protectiveness seems to amuse the demon, for his lips curl into a sinister grin. “You think your feline companion is any threat to me? You’re foolish to think so, little witch.”

Your heart pounds as you face the looming demon. With your makeshift weapon—a sturdy stick—grasped firmly, you weave determination and resolve into your stance. Your gaze shifts to Captain, his eyes reflecting the trust he places in you. Kneeling before him, you utter your words in a hushed tone. “Can you distract him for me?”

Captain Jack Sparrow meets your gaze with unwavering intensity, an unspoken understanding passing between you two. His nod is resolute, a testament to his loyalty and his faith in you. Without hesitation, he catapults himself toward the demon, a feline embodiment of courage and defiance.

With a sharp breath, you drag the stick into the forest floor as you etch a devil’s trap. Each stroke in the soil forms a link in a mystical chain, a barrier that could keep the demon trapped until the priest arrives with Wooyoung. The forest seems to hold its breath, the air thick with anticipation as you carve your intentions into the earth, invoking protection and safeguarding magic into each gesture.

Just as you make the last stroke on the earth, a piercing howl of agony pierces through the silence. Panic claws at your chest as you stand, your eyes locking onto Captain, who now lies amidst the underbrush. The demon’s glee is evident, a sickening grin that sparks a fire of anger within you.

Even as your heart races with a mixture of fury and desperation, his taunting words punctuate the air, “You can’t hurt me either, little witch. You’re too weak to go up against me.”

Your voice, though laced with tremors, carries a fire born of defiance. “You underestimate me, demon. My strength lies in more than just might.”

As the tension builds, you brace yourself, a fusion of anger and resolve fuelling your next steps. For some reason, a smirk dances at the edges of your lips, the action adding to the demon’s simmering fury. His snarl of irritation is a satisfying confirmation that your audacity has hit its mark, goading him into action. Without warning, he hurtles toward you with terrifying speed, and instinct kicks in, your body moving with a fluidity born of desperation as you sidestep his oncoming assault, your heart pounding with a mixture of adrenaline and a fervent prayer for Wooyoung to be quick. He’s your anchor, your beacon of hope, a lifeline that promises light at the end of the tunnel.

Your attempt to land a punch only garners a momentary victory, a fleeting contact that sends a jolt of satisfaction through your veins before the demon's ferocity reignites. Your “fight” with the demon is more of a dance between predator and prey. The demon is tireless, his attacks relentless, and your resilience the only thing keeping you from succumbing to his power.

As you’re trying to catch your breath while also simultaneously dodging the demon’s attacks, a movement in the corner of your vision catches your attention—a graceful, stealthy approach. It’s Captain Jack Sparrow, emerging from the undergrowth despite being hurt himself. You can see the fire in his own eyes as he moves closer to the two of you.

Your focus narrows as the duel intensifies. Yet, in a split second, your world tilts on its axis. The demon’s strike finally lands its mark, and an agonising pain flares in your abdomen as his blade pierces through you. Your gasp of pain mingles with the harshness of your exhale, the world momentarily spinning as you lose your grip on reality.

Amidst the searing agony, a small hope presents itself—a diversion in the form of your cat. Captain’s launch distracts the demon, his collision with the devil turning the tide of battle. A triumphant surge courses through you as the malevolent entity stumbles ensnared within the conjured lines and symbols of the devil’s trap.

Hope blossoms anew as the demon’s growls turn to roars of rage. It’s a momentous turn of events, however, the sweet taste of victory is swiftly tempered by the urgency of your injury. Blood flows from your wound, a crimson river that threatens to drown you in its tide.

But as darkness threatens to claim you, the forest is pierced by the sound of familiar voices. Wooyoung’s call is a lifeline, as he and the priest, followed by San, move toward the heart of the clearing. Their arrival sparks a surge of relief within you, the fervent prayers you’d cast finding their answer.

For your two friends, the demon, now in the custody of the priest, takes a backseat to the immediate urgency of your wound. Bloodied and battered, you succumb to the overwhelming sense of fatigue that washes over you, your vision flickering as you teeter on the precipice of consciousness. As the world blurs and wavers, you hear Captain’s mournful meows and Wooyoung’s desperate pleas as San works to stem the bleeding. Darkness envelops you, but not before you grasp the hands of those who are by your side, hoping to give them some comfort.

As you gradually resurface from the depths of the unconsciousness, you’re met with a hazy awareness of your surroundings. The soft rustle of leaves, a gentle breeze, and the warmth of the sun’s rays brush against your senses, weaving together a mosaic of sensations that bring you back to the world of the living.

As your eyelids flutter open, the world swims into focus, and you realise you’re laid down in the comfort of your bed. With careful and deliberate motions, you navigate meticulously to take note of any aches along your body. The pain is there, an ever-present reminder of the brutal encounter with the demon, but it’s not as overwhelming as you initially feared.

Summoning the strength to sit up, you’re acutely aware of the effort it takes. Your muscles protest the movement, a chorus of twinges and discomfort that underscore the extent of your injuries. You exhale a measured breath, grateful for the incremental progress that you’ve made in whatever number of days you’ve been unconscious.

You wonder if Wooyoung or San are downstairs, for you hear movement and sounds drifting through the air—evidence that you're not alone. With a mixture of trepidation and anticipation, you muster the energy to call out. “Hello?”

In response, the sounds shift—a plate clatters in the sink, and footsteps echo through the corridors as they draw nearer. You await the reply with a mixture of anticipation and unease, as the door to your room creaks open, revealing an unexpected visitor who seems as surprised to find you conscious as you are to meet him. The stranger stands framed in the doorway, his presence both enigmatic and captivating. Your gaze sweeps over him, capturing the details that distinguish him from any other human.

His silver hair shimmers like moonlight swept in an artful disarray around his face. His brown eyes are warm and expressive, and his petite nose adds a touch of whimsy to his features, a charming little thing that lends him an air of approachability.

Yet, what captivates your attention most are the silver cat ears that adorn his head. They peek from behind his tousled locks, a hint of something magical, a connection to the feline that has become such a significant part of your life. And there, nestled against his throat, rests the same choker you had bought for Captain—the final object that weaves a thread of familiarity between you and this stranger.

You blink at the unexpected revelation, your mind whirling as it tries to reconcile this silver-haired stranger with the raven-furred feline companion who had been a constant presence in your life for over a year. The pieces of the puzzle rearrange themselves in your perception, forming a new and baffling image that challenges your understanding of magic and reality.

“Please don’t tell me that you’re the cat who’s been living with me for the past year,” your incredulity and confusion are woven into the words that hang in the air between you.

He blinks back at you, the innocence in his gaze casting a surreal contrast against the situation you’ve found yourself in. “Um, okay?” His response is soft, almost timid, and a pang of empathy stirs within you.

“But, you… I didn’t sense a single ounce of magic in you,” you murmur, your words imbued with a touch of bewilderment. The dichotomy between his appearance as a cat and now as a being with apparent human attributes leaves you struggling to grasp the threads of truth.

He shifts uneasily in the doorway, his cat ears betraying his discomfort as they flatten against his hair. As your brain races to piece together the implications of his transformation, Captain—your erstwhile feline friend—interjects with a soft sigh, “That’s because our magic is way different. Nature witches can rarely sense dark magic unless it’s threatening.”

“Oh… WAIT— WHAT DO YOU MEAN DARK MAGIC?”

The elusive and sinister nature of dark magic indeed renders it undetectable to your innate senses. But to think you had been living with a creature who practised dark magic made you shudder.

“I am a mage, well—I was one until I declined a fae’s advances. They cursed me to live as a cat for the rest of my life,” he confesses, his voice carrying the weight of a burden he’s carried for far too long.

Your emotions teeter on the precipice of uncertainty. Part of you instinctively yearns to distance yourself, wary of the unpredictable nature of dark magic and its ramifications. Yet, another part—perhaps the more empathetic and compassionate side—compels you to understand.

“And how did you turn back?” you inquire gently, the words wrapped in a blanket of cautious curiosity. You observe his response closely, measuring his demeanour, and his expressions, seeking any sign of deceit or danger.

He meets your gaze squarely, his eyes carrying a mixture of vulnerability and sincerity. “I called in a favour another fae owed me. They helped me out and managed to undo some of the curse… but I was to stay a cat until I felt the heartbreak of almost losing someone precious to me,” he confides, his voice trembling with an authenticity that resonates with your intuition.

“Precious?” You echo the word.

The notion seems almost surreal, a subtle revelation that has you momentarily flustered. Your heart flutters in an unfamiliar rhythm, a dance choreographed by the unexpected emotions swirling within you.

He observes your reaction, a gentle smile playing upon his lips as he regards you with tender familiarity. “You're precious to me, Y/N,” he admits, the words carrying an honesty that sends a shiver down your spine. His gaze is a caress, drawing you into the depths of his sentiment. For a heartbeat, the world narrows to just the two of you, and you find yourself holding your breath.

He probably senses the shift in your breathing and looks at you in concern, so you force yourself to inhale, coughing a bit as you choke. Once he sees you’re fine, he continues, his words laced with a trace of melancholy. “So… you almost losing your life changed me back. Not fully, though, never fully. I’ll still be able to turn back into a cat and then back into this form. That’s what I’ve been doing while Wooyoung and San come to check up on you.”

The notion of him resuming his dual existence as both a cat and this silver-haired individual evokes a sense of both wonder and sympathy. Your gaze lingers on him, searching for traces of the feline friend you’ve known for so long within the person before you.

“Oh…” The word slips from your lips, laden with a complexity of emotions that you struggle to articulate.

He shifts slightly, his demeanour carrying an air of uncertainty as he speaks. “Um… I can leave if you don’t want me around any—”

You interject, the words tumbling from your lips before he can finish his sentence, a resolute assertion that quashes any hint of rejection. “No! I just… I'll just need a while to… uh… yeah.” You gesture vaguely, the swirl of emotions within you manifesting in a flurry of gestures that you can’t seem to articulate into words. He nods at you, and the silence that falls over the room is punctuated only by the soft rustling of fabric as he shifts his weight.

“Would you like something to eat?” he offers, seeking to ground the situation in something familiar. “I'm not the best at cooking, but I make a nice porridge and considering you haven’t eaten in a couple of days, it's best if you have something light to eat.”

Your quick nod is accompanied by a brief departure and a swift return, a bowl of porridge cradled in his hands. When you notice that he’s about to leave you alone again, you can’t help but call out. “Wait.” As his steps pause in response, you invite him to stay with a gentle smile, the words unspoken but the sentiment clear.

Curiosity laces your words as you venture into uncharted territory. “So… can you still do magic?” The inquiry stems from a genuine desire to understand the extent of his transformation and the implications it holds.

He takes a seat beside your bed, his posture relaxed as he contemplates your question. “I haven't been able to use any magic since you got injured. The demon, he hurt me with the same knife he used to hurt you… and uh, I think whatever magic I have sort of reacted with yours…” His gaze finds yours from beneath the fall of his bangs, an unspoken query hidden within his eyes, “Do you feel any different?”

“I can't tell right now…” As silence settles between you, you sense the opportunity to delve further, to uncover a piece of the puzzle that he’s held close. “What's your name?” you ask, your voice soft yet insistent.

“Huh?” He seems momentarily taken aback as if the question isn’t something he expected.

“Your name,” you repeat.

“Kim Hongjoong.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah…” The response seems to hang in the air, a bridge between the past and the present, a marker of his identity before the curse that had transformed him.

An uncomfortable quiet follows, the weight of revelations and the unspoken understanding rendering words momentarily inadequate. Seeking a refuge in the familiarity of action, you take another spoonful of porridge, the act providing temporary solace.

Breaking through the silence, he cautiously inquires, his voice softer than before, “Is it okay?” The gaze you direct at Hongjoong carries an unspoken question, “The porridge?” he clarifies.

Your response is a nod as you offer him a tentative smile that reflects your gratitude. “It's really tasty. Thank you.”

Hongjoong’s nod is a humble acknowledgement, his gaze holding a fleeting yet meaningful connection with yours. As the seconds tick by, another awkward silence settles, but this one holds the gentle promise of the unknown.

That evening as the sunset paints the evening sky in hues of purple and orange, you find yourself in the presence of Wooyoung and San. Their eyes, suffused with the relief of your recovering strength, mirror the unspoken concern that brought them here. Nestled at your side, Hongjoong has resumed his feline form, a steadfast source of familiar comfort as Wooyoung tells you about the people who had gone missing. As the priest banished the demon, they were liberated from the captivity of the demon who was using them as a source to draw power. You are glad to know that Miyeon and the others have safely returned to their homes, and the four of you enjoy an evening filled with the warmth of companionship.

As your body completes its healing process, a newfound awareness awakens within you—an inkling that your magic has indeed undergone a transformation. Engaging Hongjoong in conversation about this, you both reach a consensus that teaching each other about your respective magic could be the key to unravelling the intricacies of your unique connection.

You start small, inviting Hongjoong to partake in nurturing the growth of herbs and other flora and having him observe the delicate craft of potion-making. With patience and thoroughness that speaks to the depth of your understanding, you slowly and meticulously introduce him to the art that has been your life’s calling.

Conversely, Hongjoong takes a more theoretical approach. Armed with the wealth of knowledge he has amassed over the years, he embarks on the journey of studying dark magic alongside you. Evenings become an intimate soiree of shared books, a merging of his wisdom and your practical expertise. The pursuit is not without its challenges, especially for him as the concepts of dark magic are both familiar and alien, a delicate dance between his past experiences and his present identity.

Slowly but surely, the awkwardness of your interactions dissipates, and you settle into a rhythm, an understanding blooming from the mutual pursuit of knowledge. Hongjoong’s presence becomes an inseparable part of your magical undertakings, his assistance serving as both catalyst and amplification. The mundane tasks of your craft transform into collaborative ventures that find their completion with newfound ease and velocity.

In this partnership, you both traverse uncharted realms, unearthing hidden gems of wisdom and forging new techniques. You discover the intricacies of advanced protective charms, the nuances of spellcasting, and the delicate balance between the ethereal and the tangible. Every conversation brings new insights as his eyes aglow with passion while he delves into explanations that light up your understanding.

Hongjoong isn’t oblivious to the subtle shifts in your demeanour either, the way your attention seems to gravitate toward his words with an almost magnetic pull. He playfully teases you when you zone out while listening to him, but beneath his banter lies a quiet satisfaction at having captured your focus.

One summer evening, almost two years after you found and healed Hongjoong, you find yourself basking in the warmth of his presence. As Hongjoong delves into the mysteries of Tarot cards, your attention wavers. Mesmerised by his words, your gaze inadvertently drifts to his lips, where the graceful dance of his explanations seems to take on a sensual rhythm of its own. Lost in the tempo of his speech, you’re barely aware of your growing fascination until the sound of his clearing throat breaks through your reverie. Flushing in embarrassment, you avert your gaze, your heart racing at having been caught by him.

Hongjoong chuckles softly, a melodious sound that carries warmth. His fingers, feather-light and tinged with confidence, slide beneath your chin, lifting it until your eyes meet his. His touch is tender, a silent reassurance that dissipates your unease, even as his eyes search yours with an intensity that ignites a flutter in your chest.

The air between you seems charged with unspoken desires, and as Hongjoong’s gaze darkens, your heart skips a beat. His presence is magnetic, his proximity an intoxicating pull that leaves you breathless. The realisation that this is a defining juncture in your connection dawns upon you, your anticipation matched only by the uncertainty of what's to come.

“May I kiss you?” Leaned in so close that his breath dances upon your lips, Hongjoong’s voice is barely a whisper as he seeks permission, his question hanging between you like a promise. His eyes, fixed on your mouth, reflect the yearning that pulses through his veins.

Your nod is almost imperceptible, a fervent agreement that is all the confirmation Hongjoong needs. His lips descend upon yours with a delicate reverence, his touch a gentle brush that sends sparks through your very being. A deep, resonant purr thrums from within his chest, the vibrations of which reverberate against you as he draws you closer to himself.

Hongjoong’s kiss unfolds with a tenderness that contrasts the unspoken longing that has been growing between the two of you. His lips move against yours in a rhythm that speaks of his own vulnerability, each touch conveying a deeper sentiment. But as you respond in earnest, his tongue glides across your lips, prompting longing to flare through your veins.

Your lips part, the connection broken only for a moment as you both draw a ragged breath. Yet, the space between you feels electric, the air pregnant with the promise of what’s to come. Giving in to desire, Hongjoong’s kisses trail along your jaw, igniting sensations that tumble forth as a soft, involuntary whimper. The velvety brush of his lips against your skin seems to write a narrative of its own as if he’s trying to make a home in your very soul.

With a husky murmur, Hongjoong guides you forward, his voice a seductive entreaty that resonates through your core. As his teeth graze beneath the collar of your shirt, a shiver courses down your spine, “That's it, love,” he exhales, his words a sultry invitation to unravel the depths of your desires. “Let me hear you.”

The fervour of your shared moment is interrupted by a sudden, urgent knock on your door. The sound jolts you both out of the cocoon of passion, and you exchange a hasty yet intense kiss as if to imprint the sensation on your soul before pulling away. Breathing heavily, you share a lingering glance before reluctantly untangling yourself from his embrace and heading to the front door, your heartbeats echoing the electricity that still courses through your veins.

As you open the door, you’re met with the sight of Wooyoung and San, their expressions a mix of concern and curiosity. They look at you and Hongjoong with knowing smiles as if they can sense the transformation in the air, but they refrain from commenting. It’s a silent acknowledgement of the intimacy that has bloomed between you, and you’re grateful for their unspoken understanding.

In the days that follow, you and Hongjoong continue navigating your newfound connection. The kiss remains unspoken, yet its imprint is undeniable. The two of you seem to share a mutual agreement to explore this uncharted territory without the constraints of labels or expectations, allowing your relationship to unfurl naturally.

With Hongjoong by your side, every interaction becomes a wordless conversation, every shared glance a testament to the bond that has formed between you. The ease with which you navigate each other’s thoughts and emotions astounds you as if you’ve known each other across lifetimes.

With Hongjoong, you find solace and a rare understanding that extends beyond the realms of mere companionship. With him by your side, life seems to flow effortlessly, and even the challenges that come your way are met with a united front, the strength of your connection acting as a shield against adversity.

As time passes, you realise that what you have with Hongjoong is more profound than any bond you could have hoped for had you connected with a familiar. Yours is a love that has grown from mutual respect, shared experiences, and the unspoken promises that linger between your glances.

You might have longed for a familiar as a young witch, but now you realise that fate had something even better in store for you—a soul who understands you in ways words can never express and a heart that beats in harmony with your own. With Hongjoong by your side, you found the person who complemented your magic, someone who loved you and would go to the ends of the earth for you, and you knew that you’d do the same for him.

#collab : stuck in summer #hongjoong x reader #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez reactions #ateez headcanons #ateez imagines #ateez fluff #hongjoong imagines #hongjoong scenarios #hongjoong headcanons #hongjoong reactions #hongjoong fluff #cromernet #outlaw/precious #ateez fanfic

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skyloftian-nutcase · 2 months

Note

For the prompt event, if I’m not too late…?

Healthcare Legend and some whump? Idk exactly how that would work but if that’s not something you can work with, just regular Legend whump, if that’s okay.

Thank you very much for considering!

Gritting his teeth, Legend pushed himself to get up. His knuckles were bleeding from where he’d been desperately scrabbling for purchase as he’d fallen down the small, rocky cliffside. His hip was killing him from where he’d landed on it, and his world was still spinning a little.

That didn’t matter. He had to find the others and warn them. He had to make sure the monster horde didn’t catch them unawares as it had him.

They’d split up to do reconnaissance. Legend had originally had the option to go with Wild, but after having explored with him before, he’d declined, going alone.

It was a stupid move. He knew that. He knew that. But he’d wanted to stay on the trail while Wild was going to wander off, and instead of arguing with him, he’d let the champion and the traveler scamper away into the woods, giggling as they went.

But now they could be in danger.

It started to drizzle, the cold rain pelting against him. It felt like tiny needles digging into his skin, intensifying every ache.

Get up. You can’t let them get to the others.

If the monsters got to Hyrule and Wild, it would be a disaster. The two were powerhouses in their own right, but they were uncoordinated as a pair. Legend didn’t usually step in to lead the group, but he’d seen how strategy would quickly fall apart the instant something went wrong. Hyrule and Wild were among the worst offenders.

Legend took a step forward, grabbing his hookshot, and fired it at the vines at the top of the cliff. He had his sword at the ready as it pulled him, feeling his shoulder scream in protest at the sudden jerking motion. He’d long since learned to brace against it, but falling down that cliff seemed to have aggravated the area.

An aeralfos noticed his approach, charging towards him as he flew upward. He didn’t exactly have any maneuvering ability while his item pulled him to the top, but he managed to use his moment to drive the sword towards his enemy, slicing at its throat as it hissed and tried to claw at him.

The black blooded creature fell to the ground, injured but not defeated (if it hadn’t been cursed it would have been eliminated - this blasted shadow monster had to make everything so stupidly difficult), giving Legend a moment to catch his breath and drive his tempered blade into its chest. It twitched a little under the blade before growing still.

Legend nearly fell backwards when he removed his blade, completely off balance and dizzy. He shook his head, blinking water out of his eyes again.

It was just water, right?

He scrounged through his pouch, hoping to find a potion. Instead, he just found magic elixirs. He rolled his eyes. Typical. He’d forgotten he’d given his last potion to Four. How could he have been so careless, wandering off his own without the proper equipment?

Some veteran of the hero business I am, he grumbled as he trudged forward.

Whatever. They all had off days. He wasn’t going to let this one lead to the others getting hurt.

Legend marched ahead, sword at the ready, eyes alert for the other monsters that he hadn’t yet eliminated. They couldn’t have gotten too far.

That assumption turned to utter bewilderment as he continued to move onward. He wandered into a clearing in the forest with a burnt out husk of a building in its center. He… didn’t remember this. But he hadn’t wandered off the road, either.

When had he wandered off the road? He’d been tracking the beasts, had they come through here?

Legend shook his head a third time. Was it still raining? His face was wet.

Movement caught his attention, and he crouched down, hiding behind a half destroyed foundation. He saw a few bokoblins ahead, and he realized he’d finally caught up.

He remembered there being more monsters than he saw. He could handle three bokoblins and a few keese. And with swift work and expedient use of his varying weapons, he wiped them out quickly.

It was strange, how relieving that was. It was so relieving, in fact, that he promptly fell over.

“Ow,” he grumbled irritably, trying to push himself sit up again, noticing that his knuckles had at least scabbed over from their earlier cuts.

Again, Legend dug through his pouch, wondering if he really didn’t have a single potion to spare. This was dumb. This was so unbelievably dumb.

Groaning, he let himself collapse on the rocky ground. Fine. He’d just lay here. Whatever. The battle was over anyway.

The sky was glowing golden, like embers of a dying fire, heralding the coming night. Legend scrunched his face in annoyance at it. He’d rather just lay here and die than let anyone find him in this state, but he knew they’d start looking if he didn’t make his way back to camp.

The only problem was, he had no idea where he was. He wished desperately for a bloody map.

It was amazingly frustrating, how he could be so experienced in these journeys yet he could still find himself in such a predicament. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been doing this since he was a kid.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and adrenaline shot through his entire body, jolting him into alertness.

His mind immediately started trying to rationalize that he was okay, despite his automatic reaction to the storm. You’re not at sea. Relax.

He was in the middle of a clearing, though. Exposed.

Legend immediately sprang to his feet, stumbling towards the trees, and promptly fell on his face as soon as he got some cover.

Okay, something was definitely wrong with his head. And his hip was still killing him.

Legend suddenly felt entirely alone. He felt so utterly alone in a place that was completely foreign. It was a disturbing feeling, and far, far too familiar.

He’d always traveled alone. He’d make friends along the way, but inevitably, he adventured by himself. And that was fine. So why did he feel…

He sighed heavily, rolling so that he was on his back, hissing as his hip protested the maneuver.

He missed Zelda.

He missed his uncle.

He missed his fellow heroes, his friends.

He was going to die here alone, wasn’t he?

He couldn’t die here. He had a mission to accomplish, and he’d never let anyone down.

But there were eight other heroes who could do the job jus as well, weren’t there?

Pff. Hmph. Do it just as well. Whether they can do it or not isn’t the point. I set out on this quest myself.

The rain started up again, heavier than before, soaking him to the bone. He shivered, and the tremors turned to outright twitches whenever lightning tore across the sky.

The noise was overwhelming and deafening, and Legend suddenly wished he was laying face down again. He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the flash of light behind his eyelids every time thunder roared.

When a warm hand touched his forehead, he nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Hey, easy! It’s just me.”

The voice was familiar, the subtlest hint of a twang, like a rabbit poking its head out of tall grass.

The Hero of Twilight.

Legend felt an insane amount of both shame and relief. Of all the others to find him, at least it was Twilight.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Warriors as well, and his cheeks immediately flushed.

Shooting to his feet, he nearly headbutted the captain by accident as he insisted, “I’m fine, I was just resting a moment.”

“Right,” Warriors drawled, completely unconvinced. “Veteran, you’re bleeding. Just sit down and let us help you out.”

“It’s okay,” Twilight assured him, ghosting a hand over his back, knowing Legend didn’t particularly care for physical contact all that much.

The veteran hero looked between the two, soaked and freezing and in pain, and he relented, easing back down to the ground with Twilight’s help.

“What happened?” Twilight asked gently while Warriors looked for a potion in his own stash.

“Monsters,” Legend replied dully, not quite wanting to admit that he’d wandered off alone. “I… didn’t want them to find the others. Or you guys. Or anybody.”

Warriors and Twilight exchanged a look, and it appeared that the captain was gearing up for some kind of speech when Twilight interrupted his attempt, putting a reassuring hand on Legend’s shoulder. “We’ve got it from here, okay?”

“They’re gone,” Legend said. “I took care of it.”

A proud smile crossed the captain’s face, and he helped Twilight sit Legend up as he held a potion. “I’m always impressed with your ability to fight. It’s definitely clear that you’re the veteran among us.”

Legend swallowed, feeling strange about the compliment coming from another Hero, especially from a knight. He felt unbelievably vulnerable and small in this storm.

Twilight pulled off his pelt, wrapping it around Legend’s shoulders, while Warriors held the potion to his face. The veteran tried to huff in protest, but it petered out of him before he could even try. Instead, he leaned more into their support, feeling the warmth of the wolf pelt, and wordlessly let Warriors help him drink the potion.

Even with its bitter taste, with the warmth of its magic flowing through his veins, he felt utterly spent. The world was no longer spinning, though, and he shriveled into himself as he was made even more aware of his pathetic state.

“Little better?” The captain asked, his tone surprisingly gentle.

“Yeah,” Legend mumbled, cheeks flushing. “Thanks.”

Twilight smiled warmly, wrapping the pelt around him a little more. “Let’s head to camp, then.”

Legend tried to protest the coddling, moved his shoulders a little to get the pelt off him, but it was so blasted warm, and…

The elder heroes took either hand, helping him stand, and though he didn’t wobble and tremble as he had been, he let them guide him along.

He was having an off day anyway. He… might as well just… let them help him.

He didn’t always have to be alone, after all.

#you ask skye answers #Lovely plink #Lu legend #linkeduniverse #linked universe #hopefully this works :)#I whumped healthcare Legend a little anyway in another ask haha #It’s been a while since I’ve written from Legend’s perspective #at least it feels like it #Idk #I feel like I haven’t written him in ages and am struggling grasping his character so hopefully this felt like him #writing

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nymphoheretic · 1 year

Text

His Snack

Nymph: this is just some random unedited thoughts. So it may not make much sense 😵‍💫

Synopsis: Woke up to being on my period and got extreme thoughts about Karaku and how he would absolutely take advantage of that.

Warnings: oral (fem!receiving), blood/period sex, cervix fucking, breeding, creampie

Word count: .5k

Pairing: Karaku x fem!reader

Karaku, who can smell exactly when you're about to start and he immediately barricades you in his room. Green eyes locked on your form as you clench your thighs and wrap your arms around your belly. The ache and cramps begin to take its toll on your body. "Aww poor little thing. Come here and I'll take the pain away."

Karaku, who loves it when you get your period. The sweet taste of your blood leaking out to mix with the slick that drips out of you is like heaven on his tongue. He could spend the whole week between your thighs, lazily lapping at your clit, smearing blood and cum around on his tongue.

Karaku, who says that he knows cumming is good for cramps, but in reality, this is for his pleasure. He wanted to have you all to himself during this time of the month. He didn't want anyone else to smell or taste the sweet elixir that seeps out of you.

Karaku, who digs his fingers inside your tight little hole, wanting more of your blood on his tongue. It made him so drunk – intoxicated by it. The combined flavor of the crimson fluid and the sticky cum that trickled down his chin makes a moan rumble in his chest.

Karaku, who ignored the tugs at his hair, the whining of overstimulation that comes from you. This was his treat. His pussy. "Don't be so stingy. You got plenty more in this sweet pussy for me." His long tongue slides through your drenched folds, coating it in blood and slick before swallowing it all down.

Karaku, who once had his fill, rubs his hard cock through your snug folds. "You're still cramping right? Let me fuck them away." He laughed as he sunk into your warm wet cunt.

Karaku, who's large hands squeeze at your waist, head tossed back as your walls flex and flutter around him as he stretches you out. His forest colored eyes locked in on the spot where the two of you were connected.

Karaku, who grins when you whine about being so full. He leans down and licks your lips with the tip of his tongue – his way of telling you to open your mouth. And when you do, he spits onto your tongue just as he bottoms out. "Taste just how fucking delicious you are."

Karaku, who pulls back until only the swollen tip is left, watching as your red-tinted fluids cover his cock in a shiny gloss before fucking into hard. He loves it when you're screaming his name loud enough for his counterparts to hear.

Karaku, who fucking you so deeply, the blunt tip pressing so snugly against your cervix, threatening to push into your womb with each brutal snap of his hips.

Karaku, who's body trembles, moans leaving his throat as his cock twitches within your soft velvety walls, painting them with his cum.

Karaku, who whispers praises in your ear as he fucks his cum deeper inside you.

Karaku, who looks at you all blessed out and panting. "I'm not through with you yet, my little plaything. You still have 6 more days and I plan on using them all."

©️2022-23 nymphoheretic - I do not give permission to copy, edit, alter, or distribute my work. Do not adverse on tiktok. Do not repost on any other platform.

#nymphomanic♡#kny smut #karaku smut #kny karaku #karaku x reader #demon slayer smut #demon slayer x reader #kny hantengu #hantengu x reader #hantengu clones

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another-lost-mc · 1 year

Text

Rubies in the Dark LUCIFER x gn!Reader 4.9k Words | NSFW | Medieval Fantasy AU | Dubious Behaviour Content Warnings: Dark Elvish Prince!Lucifer x Alchemist!Reader. Contains descriptions of monsters, magic and blood/gore/violence; minor injury; implied stalking, breaking and entering, invasion of privacy; dream magic, dream sex, mutual masturbation, implied somnophilia. (Also, shameless references to Warcraft lore because it inspired the worldbuilding for this story.) A/N: This is my fic for @bizarrebankai's 1k Follower Collab! 💙

It’s been nearly five years since you left your family’s small farm to create a new life in Hillsbrad Foothills. You didn’t have any weapons' training and you weren’t magically gifted. Some of your childhood friends were, and they were able to move away to pursue new adventures, leaving you behind. Your family expected you to accept your boring country life, but you knew you wanted more. Disappointment and heartbreak finally motivated you to pack your meager belongings and set off on your own adventure.

You might not be a warrior or mage, but your new freedom gave you the opportunity to explore and study your true passion for alchemy. Your small cottage is located in one of the villages near the Alterac Mountains. Most of the villagers are hunters, gatherers, or tradesmen.

You make a comfortable living trading your alchemy creations to the other villagers. The foothills are an abundant source of some of the most useful flowers and herbs for crafting utility potions and healing elixirs. You don’t like to let things go to waste; the discarded plants you can’t use are milled and turned into ink that you supply to the local constable and village leaders.

In exchange for your services, they provide you with clothing and food and other useful goods. Your life is lonely, but it’s comfortable. Time has healed old wounds and very rarely is your mind plagued with doubt and regret; you know you’re better off without your unsupportive family and the weak-willed ex-lover you left behind.

Today was surprisingly busy and you were in your alchemy lab all morning. The weather started to turn and you saw clouds rolling over the hills when you peeked out the window. You glance at your herb reserves hesitantly and wonder if you have enough time to gather some more before the storm comes.

One of the village’s recent hunts ended bloodier than usual–there weren't any deaths, but more hunters were seriously wounded than normal. You were more than eager to provide them with potions to accelerate their recovery, but most of your supplies have run out as a result.

The wildlife in the foothills has become exceedingly aggressive. There aren’t many visitors to these quiet lands. There are rumors circulating the village of suspicious travellers conducting experiments with local animals and plant life along the region’s uninhabited borders. They talk about rabid animals and foliage overrun with disease, but you’ve been fortunate not to come across anything like that yourself.

The foothills aren’t easily accessible and are used mainly as a thoroughfare to other regions. There’s only one main road travelers can use to bypass the mountains: the eastern road leads into the valleys and the sea beyond; or the western road that winds up through Silverpine Forest, a thick and dark place nestled along the mountain range.

You’ve heard stories about Silverpine Forest, too–or the Demon’s Forest, if suspicious townsfolk are to be believed. Some people say that monsters hunt along the road at night. If the legends are true, they capture weary travelers and unsuspecting hunters and drag them to their demise in the dark, never to be seen or heard from again. This land might be home to magical and wondrous things, but even you doubt that the stories are true.

Regardless of what you believe, you try to be cautious when you go out to collect herbs on your own. You attach a long knife to your belt before you slip on your cloak, although it is more useful for trimming leaves and brances than for protection.

You bite your lip and glance nervously at the sky. The clouds overhead threaten rainfall, but you think you have enough time to restock some of your depleted resources. You slip out of your little cottage and follow the stone path to the main road heading west.

Today’s harvest is productive and uneventful. These foothills are an excellent source of Briarthorn and Silverleaf, some of the most potent herbs you use regularly. You’ll be able to provide the local healers with more elixirs with extras to spare.

You don’t normally venture this close to the western border, but you naturally follow the most abundant patches of herbs and it led you there. You haven’t seen anything out of the ordinary, but you’re still eager to return to your cottage before it gets too late.

You set along the path that will lead you home when a strange sound carries on the wind and catches your attention. It doesn’t sound human, but you recognize the whimpers and whines of a creature in pain. You take a hesitant step off the main road, and then another, until you’re walking slowly, carefully, through the grass towards the noise.

The unusual sounds lead you down a deep, sloping hill towards one of the region’s abandoned mines. You shiver from the sudden drop in temperature–something about the air in this area feels unsettling and desolate, and it sets your nerves on edge. The pained noises come from just inside the opening of one of the mining tunnels. You peek around the corner carefully, and you spot some sort of wounded animal.

At a first glance, you think it might be a type of bear, but it’s hard to tell without getting closer. It’s stuck in a tangled mess of thick, white webbing that pins it to the ground. The beast raises its head when your leather boot disturbs some loose stones, and its eyes–or is that two pairs of eyes?–blink at you. The beast is still whimpering in pain, but a low growl echoes around you now, too.

You hold up your hands and show the beast you mean it no harm. It sniffs the air curiously and the growling fades, which you interpret as a sign that it’s safe to approach. You kneel at the beast’s side and examine the webs trapping the poor animal in place. You stroke its furry back soothingly as you slowly cut away the thinner sections of webbing, but the thicker ropes along the beast’s back are too tough for your knife to hack through.

You’re so distracted by your task that a new sound startles you and makes your blood run cold; the beast starts to growl louder and more menacing than before. There’s a hissing noise approaching you from deep within the mine. The flurried sound of skittering limbs echo off the stone walls. Dozens of yellowish eyes seem to float in the darkness further down the tunnel from you and the beast.

It appears that the mines are home to a nest of overgrown spiders. The spiders are nothing like what you’ve seen before: they’re nearly as tall as you are and much wider. They have gnarly limbs and strange, pulsing growths jutting from their backs.

You have no weapons except for your knife, and it’s a poor substitute for a proper sword or axe–not that you could wield either of those successfully, even if you had one. The beast struggles to break free of its bindings next to you, but its limbs are still immobilized by the webs.

You don’t want to run and leave the beast to a bloody fate, but you don’t want to be devoured by the monsters approaching you either. You’re paralyzed by indecision and fear. You remember the stories of suspicious individuals creating abominations from nature in their wake. You didn’t want to believe the rumors were true; you didn’t think this is how you would die.

Something knocks into your back, and you yell in fright as you’re pushed aside. You’re afraid that a monster ambushed you from behind, but instead you see a tall figure wearing leather hunting gear underneath a long, dark cloak.

Whoever it is stops and examines the beast closely, and a male voice speaks to it in a strange language you don’t understand. He pats the beast’s heads–all three of them– before he approaches the swarm of spiders. He doesn’t hesitate to draw a long steel blade, and you stare in horror as he marches towards certain death.

“Hey, wait, don’t–!” you try to warn the stranger. You realize very quickly that your warning was not wanted or needed.

It’s not a battle so much as it is a slaughter. His movements are graceful but quick, and they’re difficult for you to follow. He darts a path through the monsters, his sharp weapon slicing through the air and cutting them down effortlessly. Frenzied, monstrous shrieks and hissing fill the air; the sound of flesh slicing and squelching blood makes you nauseous. The musty mine air grows heavy with the hint of copper. You clench your eyes shut and cover your ears.

Eventually, the sounds of carnage fade into nothingness, and all you can hear now is the wild thumping of your heartbeat. When you open your eyes, the hooded stranger is standing near the beast’s side once more. His sword drips black-red ichor from the slain spiders, and he wipes the blade clean. He cuts through the webbing so the beast can finally stand up properly. It reminds you of an enormous dog as it shakes its dark fur. Its heads each try to lick at the stranger’s face, and you hear a soft huff of amusement; it nearly makes you smile, despite everything you’ve just gone through.

The stranger finally seems to remember your presence and turns to face you. Most of his face is shrouded in darkness with his hood still up, but you know he’s staring at you. His attention feels weighted, almost suffocating. His aura is intense and you’ve seen for yourself he’s capable of ruthless bloodshed, but for some reason, you don’t feel afraid.

His head tilts questioningly. “Why?” his smooth voice asks quietly. “Why did you stop to help him?”

“I wanted to,” you reply honestly. You cringe when you realize how naive it sounds. You could’ve died, and you probably would have died, if not for the traveler’s excellent timing.

You don’t know what to say, and neither does he judging by his icy silence. Something catches your eye when you take a better look at his clothing. There’s a gash on his arm, and the thin material of his tunic is already soaked with blood from the wound. “You’re hurt,” you point out worriedly.

He looks at his arm like he didn’t even notice he was wounded, but he startles when you approach him without hesitation. “What do you think you’re–?” the stranger demands, but he only makes a half-hearted attempt to pull away from you.

You shake your head to silence his complaints and focus on his injury. You normally carry a small assortment of bandages in one of your pouches, pre-soaked with healing elixir, and you unwrap one and press it to his arm. You wrap it around the wound as gently as you can.

“I make these myself,” you explain to him quietly. You move the ripped fabric of his shirt aside, and your fingers brush against his bare skin. You hear a sharp intake of breath, and you pause tying the bandage in place. “Is it too tight?”

Even with his hood up, you can tell he’s shaking his head. “No, no–it’s fine."

When you’re satisfied with your work, you step back and give him some space. The man seems to be focused on his arm now, and the strange tension between you makes you nervous. Before you can think of anything else to say, rumbling thunder booms in the distance outside the mine and you look over your shoulder. The sky is even darker now, and only the barest hints of sunlight peek through the clouds.

You suddenly feel the tingling sensation of magic in the air. You turn around to ask the man if he lives nearby and what his name is, but he and his beast are gone. You scan the tunnel as far as your eye can see, but nothing else remains except for the plagued spider creatures the traveler killed to save you.

More thunder booms, louder and closer than before, and you rush from the mine. You see no sign of the man or his beast, but the storm brews on the horizon. You have no choice but to continue the journey home as quickly as you can and hope that they’re safe now too.

The villagers are on high alert after you inform them of the monstrous spiders you encountered near the western border of the region. You leave out the details of meeting the cloaked stranger and his three-headed beast.

Your thoughts drift to them often in the days that pass since that tense encounter. The traveler must be a gifted magic user if he was able to teleport them both away so easily. You feel the pang of envy when you think of your nonexistent magical skills, but you remind yourself that you’re an accomplished alchemist instead. You’ve honed your talents and found your own purpose in life; you don't need anything else.

Sometimes when you walk to town to buy supplies, or when you tend to the small garden of herbs near your cottage, you feel uneasy. You glance around nervously when the sensation of being watched makes your skin break out in goosebumps. You call out nervously and ask who’s there, but no one answers. The silence feels anticipatory somehow, and you wonder what it means.

The next morning you stumble tiredly from your room after a restless sleep. You think a warm cup of tea will help, but you freeze when you realize there’s a man in your house. His back is facing you while he looks over the alchemy texts and storybooks on your shelf. He turns to you properly when he hears your startled yelp of surprise.

The man looks like no one you’ve ever seen before. Black hair streaked with grey falls over his intense ruby-coloured eyes. He wears a silver circlet adorned with black opals. His black regalia is perfectly tailored and looks expensive. The dark fabric is accented with gold and red threads that almost seem to glitter in the sunlight shining through your window. His cloak is lined with fur, and his black leather boots are shined to a high polish. He clears his throat and tugs on the cuff of his gloves, almost like he’s nervous. Whoever the stranger is, he looks regal and important and painstakingly out of place in your humble cottage.

You should be afraid that a stranger broke into your home and looked through your belongings while you were sleeping in the next room unaware. However, there’s something familiar about him that you can’t place at first. You suddenly think of a three-headed beast and the cloaked stranger that saved you both, his pale, sharp jawline peeking below the shadow of his hood–

You realize the man before you is the swordsman from the mine, and he nods his confirmation when you ask him if he's one and the same. Your gaze lingers on his intense red eyes and the pointed tips of his ears, and he explains that he lives deep in Silverpine Forest with the elves. He tells you that he’s the crown prince of his kind, and he’s here because he owes you a debt of gratitude.

He looks visibly irritated when you tell him repayment of any kind isn’t necessary. Shouldn’t you be repaying him since he saved your life? But there’s a pink flush blooming across his cheeks despite his offended expression, and all he says is that it’s complicated. Apparently, risking your life to save elvish royalty–or his pet–is a big deal.

You rub your arms nervously and ask what he means. You’re expecting him to offer some sort of compensation, like gold or rare goods, and you plan on refusing all of it. What you don’t expect is for him to ask permission to court you. His eyes are serious and they blaze angrily when you burst into laughter at his proclamation.

(He doesn’t tell you that his brothers noticed his increasingly distracted behaviour the days following your fateful encounter. He washed the bandage you gave him and kept it for sentimental reasons he can’t even articulate properly. He can’t look at Cerberus without remembering how close he came to losing his beloved companion, or how brave you were to try to save him yourself. He thinks of how kind you were when you tended to his wounded arm and how gently you touched him–no one's ever touched him like that before.

He thinks about the spies he sent to your cottage to learn more about you, and how he grew too eager and started watching over you himself. He thinks about your reputable alchemy skills and kind nature, and how respected you are in your small village. He thinks about your potential, and how he can offer you so much more, if you’ll give him the chance.)

In the awkward silence that follows, you realize he isn’t joking and he's waiting for your response. You don’t mean to offend him, and you apologize profusely, but he can’t seriously expect you to accept such a proposal so easily, right?

But you think about your quiet isolation with only fleeting acquaintances among the townspeople to keep you company. You think about the world beyond the foothills that you pretend doesn’t exist. You’re not sure how you’ve ended up in another isolated prison of your own making.

Were you craving a sense of adventure when you let a strange beast’s cries lead you astray from the safest path home? What could someone like an elvish prince offer someone like you?

The world, a treasonous voice whispers in your mind. Judging by the mischievous gleam in his eye, you’re not sure whether that voice was yours or his.

You explain to him as gently as you can that you can’t accept such a bold offer of courtship, but you would be happy to accept an offer of friendship instead.

He readily agrees with your counter-proposal, and you wonder what you’re missing that makes him look so pleased; he looked ready to attack you for wounding his pride only moments ago. He refuses your offer to stay longer and visit, but he assures you that you’ll see him again soon. You stop him before he leaves when you realize you don’t even know his name.

My name is Lucifer, he tells you warmly. There’s an unreadable smile teasing his lips, and he offers you a murmured farewell before he disappears in a ripple of magic.

You ignore the curious voice inside your mind that wonders how long he'll make you wait before he visits again.

It’s been nearly a week since Lucifer visited your cottage and turned your world upside down. You haven’t seen him since, but you’ve made a mental note to ask him what friendship means to elvishkind. It almost seems like he completely ignored your rejection of his offer to court you.

Each morning when you wake, you find some sort of gift in your sitting room: a vase of rare wildflowers, silver jewelry fashioned similarly to the circlet he wore, a new cloak lined with soft fur that looks suspiciously like his own.

You pick up today’s gift–a heavy, leatherbound book about plants and herbs with blank pages at the end for keeping notes. You recognize some of the drawings on the pages: those plants don’t grow in the foothills, but you know they grow in abundance within Silverpine Forest where Lucifer lives, that cheeky devil.

These tokens feel too intimate for the early stages of blooming friendship, but you suspect he knows that. Is he so arrogant that he thinks your affections can be won so easily despite your initial protests?

(Or does he know that despite your protests, you enjoy all his thoughtful gifts? He’s so considerate of your interests and passions. It’s difficult not to be flattered that someone as interesting and handsome as him would be determined to impress someone like you.)

Your cottage starts to feel different as it fills with gifts the elvish prince brings you while you sleep. It’s almost like he leaves hints of his unique magic on purpose for you to find. You catch whiffs of the smoky-sweet fragrance he wears as you walk through the halls, and you can't help but think of him when you do.

Sometimes you still feel like you’re being watched, but the sensation feels friendlier somehow, rather than invasive and alarming. When you look out your window in the evenings and stare into the thicket behind your cottage, you can almost imagine the flash of blood-red eyes staring back at you.

You’ve been using the book Lucifer gave you as a type of journal. It’s become an intimate confession of your wonder and your fears and doubts. You write about regret and hope and opportunities for new beginnings. You think about friendship and the potential for more, and you wonder how it might feel to wake up in a bed warmed by someone that loves you. You haven’t wanted these sorts of things in a very long time. You’re not sure whether to thank or curse the elvish prince for filling your head with such desperately beautiful ideas.

The next morning, you wake up and find another gift: a glass jar filled with fragrant tea leaves. The unique blend smells earthy and herbal and slightly sweet. You hold the jar to your chest and glance at your journal on the writing desk. It’s open to the last page you wrote on, but you know you closed it before you went to bed last night. Realization dawns on you: Lucifer wanted you to know that he read it, and now he knows all your conflicted thoughts about him.

You boil water and make a cup of tea with the leaves he gave you. You step outside into the early morning sunlight and sip your drink thoughtfully. The familiar feeling of eyes on you returns, and you wonder why it doesn’t bother you nearly as much as it used to.

You dream of Lucifer for the first time that night. It feels like your consciousness is floating amongst soft clouds. You feel weightless and protected and cared for. You can’t see him–not at first, anyway–but you know he’s there with you. His familiar scent is so strong you can almost taste it, and you recognize the deep, teasing timber of his voice when his quiet chuckle echoes all around you. You know it’s not real, but it feels like strong arms cradle you in a warm embrace and it feels so wonderful.

Wakefulness disturbs the tranquility of the dream, and you see one last flicker of red eyes before you sit up in your bed, wide-awake and breathless. You rub your eyes and squint as the morning sunshine filters in the gap of your curtain and bathes your room in light. Something catches your attention from the corner of your eye, and you realize he left his next gift in your room this time: a deep-red rose fully in bloom and tied with a black ribbon, placed next to your pillow while you dreamt of him.

Whatever is happening between you and Lucifer continues to grow more intense as days pass. Every night when you sleep, he visits you in your dreams like he knows your resistance to him is crumbling. His dream-self doesn’t really speak to you, except for deep sighs that sound like your name when he holds you against his chest. Sometimes his fingers trail lightly up and down your arm, and you can feel his warm, damp breath fan against your nape as his nose brushes against your neck.

His presence fades away when you wake up with the morning sun, and your new gift from him waits somewhere nearby. The traces of his magic seem to linger and grow stronger each time he visits you in your room. It almost feels possessive, like he’s leaving his mark on you so you can’t possibly forget him. It’s a constant reminder of who he is and what he wants from you.

His gifts become more intimate over time, too–a box filled with rare candied nuts and creamy chocolates, a bottle of rare fruit wine, a delicately woven blanket for your bed. Today’s gift is the most extravagant yet: a black silk robe with gold and red embroidery. It’s similar in style to the royal regalia he wore when he came to your home for the first time. The underlying significance of that doesn’t escape your notice.

You set the robe aside while you dress in your normal attire and carry on with your work for the day. Time passes in a blur as you grind herbs to make potions, and you mill the discarded parts into pigment for ink. When you head to the village to deliver the finished goods, you feel his intense gaze on you from somewhere nearby; he must realize by now that the bashful smile you try to smother is meant for him.

A strange feeling of anticipation has been building inside you all day. You get ready for bed that evening and take off your clothes. It’s almost like you can’t stop yourself when you slip on the robe he gave you in place of your usual sleepwear. The significance of wearing this to bed, and only this, doesn’t escape you either.

You don’t normally think about your appearance or attractiveness, but wearing something that he made specially for you feels like a type of seduction. The robe feels so soft and sensual against your naked skin, and you realize this is what it feels like to be desirable. The robe is loose across your chest and near the gap between your legs when you lay down. The thin fabric leaves tantalizing strips of bare skin exposed in the cool night air.

When you fall asleep, you realize immediately that tonight’s dream is different. You’re laying flat on something soft, and someone’s body cages you beneath theirs. You recognize the red glint of his eyes as the shadows fade away from his face. He braces himself on one arm while the other tugs at the fastening keeping your robe closed.

Mine, he whispers. His hand pauses, waiting for permission.

Yours, you whisper back.

Once he has your consent, the restraint he’s been clinging to finally gives way to his primal instincts. He leans forward and kisses you as your robe falls open completely and you’re finally bare to him. His hands and mouth claim every inch of your body for himself. He’s gentle and slow as he explores you. The crimson eyes you once feared are molten with greedy affection for you and you alone. He makes a trail of open-mouthed kisses and small, suckled bruises across your skin.

When he's reached the edge of his control, he surges back up your body and captures your lips in another heated kiss. He slides his hand between your legs and teases the edge of your arousal. He nips gently at your skin when you bare your throat to him, and he smiles wickedly at the first soft sigh that escapes you.

He groans when you explore his chest and glide along his tapered waist until you find the hardening length grinding against your hip. His cock is hard and heavy in your hand, and he growls deep in his chest as you begin to stroke him. His fingers are relentless and you move together, stroking each other in a hot, desperate haze that threatens to consume you both.

He whispers sweet praise into your ear when you fall apart beneath him, and he gasps and moans your name when he comes too. Your hands are both stained as his release mixes with your own. The inside of your thighs are wet and sticky, and your chest heaves while you catch your breath.

He maneuvers you so he’s laying behind you. He wraps an arm possessively around your waist. It may only be a dream, but you swear you’ve never felt so good. You feel relaxed and content and your eyes slip closed.

Stay, you whisper into the strange, ethereal silence of the dreamscape. He grows still behind you for a moment, but he brushes a kiss against your bare shoulder and you know what his answer is.

Something suddenly jolts you into wakefulness. It’s still early in the morning and the sun hasn’t risen yet. You feel so warm, but you realize it’s because of a heavy weight against your back. A strong, muscular arm is draped over your waist and nimble fingers trace abstract shapes on your belly. The familiar tingle of magic and the scent of honeyed smoke surrounds you. The evidence of his desire for you still clings to your thighs, sticky and not quite dry.

“Mine?” his sleep-roughened voice rumbles behind you as he tightens his hold on your waist.

You relax deeper into his arms and smile when he nuzzles against you. “Yours.”

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