#Tip of the Moonlit Blade

[tachyon-at-rest]

Slightly spoilery of Star Trek Lower Decks episode S04E04:

Things we know about D'Vana Tendi:

Alias "Mistress of the Winter Constellations"

(new) Alias "Tip of the Moonlit Blade"

(new) Tendi says they’re barely the fifth-largest family in the Syndicate

And thus I now give my brain poisoning to you. (Couldn't be sure which works better) :

Which of course references this ole gem

[world-of-aus]

Pairing: Slasher!Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Minors DNI 18+ Use of Knife, Blood, Masturbation, P in V.

Author's Note: This one was a doozy but I finally got around to finishing this piece for @winterwitch-trash! Listen I've become very critical now when it comes to my writing and I'm not sure how I feel about this, but I hope you like it! As always happy reading buns!

He drinks you in, eyes running over your tear-streaked cheeks through the blackened thick mesh of the mask. Your body fits against his more perfectly than he imagined.  

You’re whimpering behind the gloved hand that he held against your mouth, he runs the blade that rested against your cheek down the side of your face, “you scream again and this is over before its even begun, you understand?” he questions as he rests the cool blade against your neck. 

You swallow, the motion causing the blade to Knick your skin. A sliver of blood pulls against the stainless steel, a groan bubbles up in his chest.  

You even bleed pretty. 

He lifts his gloved hand from your lips, the blade pressing deeper into your skin as a warning. “Please.” You plead through your tear clouded eyes. “Please let me go, I – I won’t say a-anything, I promise.” 

“They all say that,” he murmurs as he lifts the blade only to reposition it over your skin. “I promise,” he hears you cry, “I won’t say anything, I was never here, I don’t know who you are.” He’s grinning like a wolf who’s caught his meal beneath his mask. 

“But you are here, and you’re going to remember every single thing.” 

“Please don’t!” you cry, whimpers falling from your lips as he trails the blunt tip of his blade down your neck into the valley of your exposed breasts. He taps the steel there toying with the hemline of your flimsy costume, he could cut through this with ease.  

You really are making this to easy for him. 

“You sound so pretty when you cry,” he husks, “I wonder what other noises you can make, shall we find out?” He just barely manages to muffle your scream, a tick of his head as he looks down at you. The mask that covers his face hovers less than an inch from your own, “you really shouldn’t have done that, this could have been so good for you, I could have been so good to you.” 

He's unbothered by your muffled screams as he uses his knife to slice the flimsy fabric of your costume. Unnerved by your pleas, as he goes after the lacy fabric of your underwear next exposing you to the cool of the moonlit room, he’d warm you soon enough. 

The blade dances along your skin, your tears falling quicker, “It’s alright,” he coos stopping the blade just above your navel, “you’ll be crying for an entirely different reason in just a moment.” He delights in your fear, “we’re going to try this again, you try anything funny, you die,” he says as he releases his hold on your bound hands. He’s pleased when you leave them above your head, silent tears still streaming down your cheeks. Such a good girl he thinks. He lifts the hand that covers your mouth ever so slightly, “You scream, you also die,” he adds as he switches the blade to the opposite hand, the sharp steel meeting the skin of your neck once more. 

He can hear your choked back sobs, can see the way your bite your lip to keep that scream back. The hand that rested on your hip rubs at your skin, as if to soothe you, he inches his way down watching you, waiting for you to slip up.  

It doesn’t come, but he can hear your quiet plea as he dips further down your exposed body, “please don’t.” You cry when he dips past your navel, “I don’t – I don’t want this please.” He can see the hesitation to shake your head with the knife pressed snuggly against your skin. 

Your eyes slip shut when he doesn’t hear your pleas, a broken gasp slipping past your tightly sealed lips as he dips a finger past your folds. “Don’t hold back on me now,” he murmurs as he circles your clit, “let me hear those pretty noises, you were crying for me earlier.” 

This time you shake your head, a pained cry leaving your lips as more bubbles of blood pool around the sharp edge of the blade. He can’t bite back the groan that spills from the mask, hips grinding against your naked thigh. “There she is, come on” he husks, “let me hear you.” 

“Please -” 

It takes all his strength to not rip off the mask that conceals him from you and swallow your cries with his tongue. 

He could do that later, after he made you come.  

He continues to flick his finger against your clit, sweeping up the slick that has started to collect. Despite the fear that chokes you, the pleasure he’s bringing, the pleasure you won’t show is still finding its way out of you. He tries to coax it from you, he lowers his head till he's by the lobe of your ear, “It’s okay to let go you know, it’s only me and you, you don’t have to hide how I’m making you feel.” 

He can tell you’re still holding back on him so he decides to take it a step further with you, dipping his fingers lower he circles them around your wet entrance before pushing them in. The reaction it elicits from you is dream worthy. The arch of your back, the quiet gasp that has your lips parting sweetly for him, your eyes slipping shut, “it feels good doesn’t it?” he groans hips rolling again, a steady rhythm that follows the fingers he fucks your cunt with. 

His eyes catch on the way your fingers curl around the sheets, he’s got you.  

He continues to fuck his fingers into you, stretching you out on them with every stroke, you still won’t let your cries of pleasure break, but he knows you’re close, can feel it in the way your pussy clenches around his fingers, can hear it in the whines you bite back. He’ll get you there he thinks. 

You’ve been such a good girl for him, the sweet girl he knows you to be outside of the mask he wears tonight. The sweet girl that calls him B in the quiet of the library’s study room, the sweet girl that goes bashful under the gaze he has only for you. The thought of you has him fucking his fingers into you with vigor, he wants to see what you look like when you come, wants to experience it. 

You’ve gone breathless, your chest rising and falling rapidly, your naked body writhing under his, almost there sweet girl. He presses a kiss to the heated skin of your neck right where the blade still rests, though his lips meet plastic he hopes it sears through. “That’s it y/n, let go, come for me.” 

You whine, shaking your head despite the knife still resting there, “come on,” he husks his fingers continuing to pump into you, his thumb now circling your clit in a tantalizing pace. 

“P-please N-” 

Your lips part on a cry, pussy clenching down on his fingers as the dam breaks, he’s never experienced something greater. “That’s it,” he grunts continuing to press his fingers into you, drawing out your orgasm, “come all over me, doing so good.” You’re on a high, body lax and complacent for the taking, he doesn’t want to waste any more time. He needs you. 

“Did so good,” he breathes as he slips his fingers from you, delecting in the whine he pulls from your lips, he needed a free hand to get himself out of his too tight black jeans. He needed in that pussy, wanted to feel what it was like to have you choking his cock. You’re unsuspecting, unaware until he’s sliding himself into you, a cry leaving your lips as he stretches you out. He has to catch your hands, place them back down on the bed as he fucks himself into you. 

He doesn’t care for your cries, the sobs leaving your lips. The blood that is now sliding down the side of your neck from where you’re working the wound open further. 

“Feel so good around me,” he growls, “fuck this pussy.” 

He fucks with vigor, needing that release. 

“Please - please don’t do this.” 

Too late he thinks. 

“It’s okay,” he groans, twisting the knife so it lays flat against your skin now, the cool metal choking you as he presses it down, “m’gonna make you feel so good.” 

You’re choking on a sob, he’d fix that, he’d make it one of pleasure. 

He works himself harder, deeper inside of you looking for that sweet spot that would stop the tears and bring out those stars you saw earlier. He’d bring back his sweet girl. It takes a few minutes, some soft caresses his body covering yours, but you come back to him. Those cries turning into tiny whines as he builds the two of you up. 

You’re still pleading with him, but it falls on deaf ears the closer he gets to climax. 

“Let go for me.” he moans, “come on now, can feel it, you’re almost there. Can feel this sweet pussy clenching around me.” 

You do something then, something he’s not expecting as he rocks into you, “Please, can I – can you take the mask off?” He tilts his head at you but doesn’t slow the pace, “why?” he questions. 

“I want to know who I’m looking at.” 

He shakes his head ‘no’ slowly, pace unrelenting, blade pressing down harder as he chases that release, you’d come to see who he was, but not right now, not like this. 

He couldn’t have you hate him, when he had just made you love him.

He brings the two of you to climax, with his sweet groans of release filling his mask, and your bit back cries meeting his ears in the still of the night. He wishes this night could have gone differently as he tucks himself back into his jeans, knife still pointed at your now naked curled body. It hurts him to leave you like this, but he'd be back, he'd hold you, make you feel safe, loved.

He leaves your room like he came, with the thought of you.

He'd be back.

[cambion-companion]

Interwoven in Moonlight

Aemond x fem!reader | pure smut | 18+ only | breeding kink

“Aemond.” You moaned his name, face pressing into the soft contours of the pillow.

You felt him moving against you, his front pressed flush with your back, his knee coaxing your legs farther apart as he lined the tip of his cock to your wanting cunt.

Your hips raised slightly off the bed, trying to press against him, but Aemond seemed intent on taking his time with you. “Hush, my love, allow me to savor having you like this.” Hot breath tickled your ear as Aemond leaned close, nibbling at your slack jaw. “So helpless, so needy beneath me.”

You tried bucking into him as Aemond began running the head of his cock up and down your slick folds, dipping in only enough to drive you mad before repeating the motions. “Please, Aemond!”

“Hmm, ‘please’ sounds so good on your tongue.” Aemond stilled, pressing into your silken opening a fraction at a time, your pussy walls clenched in anticipation of his girth. “Say it again.”

“Please.” You would do anything for this teasing torture to end.

“Verygood, Y/N.” With a fluid movement, Aemond sunk his length into you, his moan of pleasure mingling with your own gasp as his hips slapped flush against your backside. He stilled, allowing you to adjust to his size, the slight discomfort you initially felt melting into a burning need.

You arched into each languid stroke as he began thrusting, long and deep, silver hair tickling your face as he leaned on his forearms above you. “Look at me.”

You raised your head, turning into the hot kiss Aemond placed to your parted lips. He wrapped a firm hand around the nape of your neck, pressing you back against the pillows as his pace increased. Your fingers gripped the sheets as the sound of your lovemaking filled the room, a heady aroma of sweat and sex caused you to bite your lip and eagerly raise your hips to meet Aemond’s.

“I want you to come inside me.” You felt the effect your words had as his cock twitched inside of you. He was close.

You rose up on your forearms, feeling the bounce of your buttocks as Aemond fucked you hard into the mattress. You were able to see his expression over your shoulder as his hand wrapped around your neck, pulling you further back. His angular face, framed by a waterfall of moonlit hair, was slack with pleasure, his hooded eye a glowing silver as a moonbeam fell across it. Those curved lips of his you loved so much were parted, allowing low sounds of pleasure to escape.

Seeing him in this state sent a shudder through you as electricity danced in your core, the walls of your cunt tightened around him. Your brow furrowed, Aemond’s breath mingled with your own as your lustful eyes met.

“Aemond, I’m going to come.” Your voice was soft, the words murmured into his mouth as he brushed his lips against yours.

His hand on your throat tightened as your climax rolled over you, your cunt squeezing around him in waves of pulsing ecstasy. He drove into you several more times before spilling hot ropes of his thick cum deep into your spasming center. Aemond pushed himself to the hilt inside of you, savoring the sensation of your heat and softness around and under him.

He placed a kiss between your shoulder blades, rocking your joined bodies against the bed as if he could sink just a little further into your slick warmth. With a final squeeze, he released your neck, running his fingers instead down your arm to the side of your breast before cupping the swell of flesh, kneading your pert nipple.

With a sinfully wet sound, Aemond slid his cock out of you, coaxing you to roll over onto your back with a guiding hand at your hip. He straddled you, looking down into your face with an expression close to reverence.

“Marry me.”

You huffed out a half-laugh at his words and the way he uttered them like a prayer, his eye roving across your body.

“I do not jest, Y/N.” Aemond lowered himself against you, his long silver hair falling like a curtain around your faces. “You will be my wife. You will mother our children.” He placed a large hand upon your womb, pressing down where you could still feel the heat of his orgasm inside your body.

You rose up to kiss him, your lips moving against each other, his head followed you as you lowered yours back onto the pillow, his tongue entreating entrance to your mouth. He kissed you deeply and slowly, savoring the post-coital high, your fingers running light patterns along his lean back.

“I will marry you, Aemond.” You whispered as the prince broke away just enough to look into your eyes. “I want to be your wife.” His eye closed, drinking in your words with a smile on his curved lips. “I want you to put your child in me, have my womb fill with your seed.”

You could feel Aemond’s hard arousal against you already, his pupil dilated as he opened his eye to look down at your wanton expression.

“We should wed as soon as possible, my love.” He kissed you again before encouraging you to spread your legs further with a hand at your thigh. “You will conceive this very night, speaking words like that.”

You opened obediently to him, bringing your legs up to rest over his shoulders as his long fingers encircled your ankles, wiggling your hips playfully to signal Aemond you were ready for him to make love to you once more.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

The moon had long since set when the two of you finally collapsed next to each other, breathing erratic and skin shining from exertion. The predawn light outside heralded the singing of birds as Aemond pulled you into his arms, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, murmuring sleepy sweet nothings into your ear.

Your legs tangled together in the sheets and his hand cupping the fullness of your breast, the two of you fell into deep slumber, dreaming of the life you had started together.

[thereissomehope]

moonlit

heimdall x reader

........

Night had fallen long ago, and your room is quiet and calm, and so, so dark. You can barely see anything; what little moonlight enters through the windows leaves your view confined to the comfort of the bed. There's very little you can see, but what you can—

He had gone still some time ago, no more movement besides the calm expanding of his chest as slepts, and you watch in quiet awe his moonlit figure.

He has so many freckles.

His back is littered with them, countless spots scattered on his skin like stars in the night sky, and you trace constellations on his shoulder blades with your gaze. There are some birthmarks here and there, and you long to caress the skin, to press your lips against his marks.

You curl into yourself a little, grasping as much warmth as you can. Even with the All-Father’s magic keeping everything warm, you could swear some cold creeps in under the covers, sneaking from outside the walls.

Night chills have their way in, even in Asgard

Even though you feel some chills, the room is warm and cozy, and comfortable enough for him to discard his shirt before coming to bed. His breaths had evened out long ago, and he rests on his side, back facing you, as he always does.

Some would take offense at the position, believing it meant he ignored you, even as he slept. You want to think differently, want to believe it’s because he doesn’t see you as a threat—

Trusted you, even.

“Did you know that you think absurdly loud?” His voice is sudden, abrupt, and you jolt in surprise.  His voice is husky with sleep, and he sounds annoyed because you woke him up— and yet, he does not turn around.

It may be because of the darkness, but you could swear the tips of his ears are flushed.

You cannot help the quirk of your mouth as you curl an arm around his waist. He is cozier than the knitted duvets, warmer than any fireplace, and you leech off his warmth. You snuggle into his back, rubbing your cold nose against his skin and wrapping your cold legs around his own.

He jolts at the contact, curses flowing free from his mouth.

“Norns, woman, did you just crawl out of Hel?” He exclaims, glowering at you over his shoulder, looking seconds away from pushing you away. You do nothing but stare back, wrapping tighter around him, and he sights, muttering under his breath how he does not know what he did to deserve this, how he should push you and your frozen limbs out of the bed at once.

He does not move away, though.  Instead, he grabs the duvet and pulls it a little higher, closer around the both of you.

When you press your cold lips to his freckled back, he doesn’t object.

[cloudseeker14]

Me and The Devil (Scaramouche x GN!Reader)

Summary : You’d hunted down Scaramouche, pushing aside your lingering strings to his previous lifetimes, awaiting the confrontation between the two of you with bated breath. But will your resolve as a hero remain as steadfast as it always was when what you had imagined countless times finally happens?

Pairing: Scaramouche x GN!Reader

Genre : Romance, Angst

The devil sat upon his throne, the object of his malignant devotion clutched tightly within his grip as blood streamed down his face.

You knew you should be afraid, that the sixth harbinger was no longer the naive soul you’d once known, he was now a spirit devoid of any holiness without a mere semblance of a heart.

Yet, as much as your mind desperately tried to find a sliver of fear or hatred within you, there was nothing.

Scaramouche walked towards you, his hat fluttering in the wind and he cooed as a single finger of his caressed your face.

You stiffened, feeling the last embers of revolt fading away into a languid abyss as you met his eyes, those damning eyes that had captivated you as Kabukimono and now as this temptress of sin.

“Do you have any idea how long I have yearned for you?” He drawled, his unrelenting grip on your face tightening.

The sword in your hand trembled, an avid reflection of the mirage of thoughts and betrayals that had pushed the two of you into this stage adjourned by fate, a play of your own choosing.

Scaramouche stepped closer to you, chuckling. “Are you going to plunge that sword into me, Y/N? You, who was the very first match which set my rage ablaze, the sum off all my ardour, do you really think you can kill me?”

You rose your blade, the tip aimed at where his heart should have been. “I am the sworn hero of Teyvat. My will is always aligned with the wishes of the people and you, Scaramouche, have sinned grievously against mankind itself. I’m no longer the kindred friend you knew in your previous lifetimes or the faint echo of the lover you once sought in me and it would do you well to remember that.”

“Then kill me.” Scaramouche dropped his hand from your face and grabbed the hilt of your sword, tugging the weapon towards him until a hair breadth was left between it and his chest. “Kill me and become the hero that these vermin do not deserve.”

You gasped, frantically searching for your sense of duty within you, only to realise that it had vanished into the roaring depths of relentless craving of the man before you.

“I..”

How many times had your imagined this during moonlit nights, pictured the look on his face as you drove a blade into his chest?

How many years had you spent tossing and turning in your chambers, steeling your nerves and hardening any faint reminisces about the past?

“If death will be brought to my doorstep by your beckoning, Y/N, I shall gladly look forward to it.”

At that moment, you knew you’d already lost.

Because within those eyes, the windows of the soul, you couldn’t bring yourself to see the ruthless harbinger that had slaughtered innocents. All that appeared in your head was the confused puppet, curious about the realm of humans, running to you with a basket of freshly picked flowers.

All you could feel were the kisses he had once peppered across your face.

All that filled your vision was only his smile that shone like it had been spun from sunlight itself.

You lowered your sword, face colouring in shame. Scaramouche closed any space between you and him, gently placing his lips on yours and you froze up, heart hammering in your chest.

Scaramouche kissed you deep and slow, savouring your timid responses as you reciprocated his affection, like a wanderer in a desert that had arrived upon a bountiful oasis.

Tears ran down your face as you tangled your fingers in his blue hair. You knew what this meant, your oaths to the people, the sacrifices of your comrades, all of it had been ripped apart merely due to a moment of weakness.

Scaramouche gently placed his hand upon your chest, feeling your heartbeat as he pulled away. That rhythm of life, it completed him. Even if he didn’t have a heart, as long as he could hold you close like this, he knew it would satiate him.

He held out his hand, the shared core of hatred of humanity itself, awaiting your judgement. “So my friend, my love, my enemy, will you take my hand for the dance of a lifetime?”

The devil wasn’t the little mythological creature preached to children to encourage them to behave well.

He wasn’t a hideous monster, marred with marks of cruelty that maliciously sat upon your shoulder.

He could be beautiful, a perfect visage of elegance and you had just grasped his palm, a scorned excuse of a savior of Teyvat.

You both knew that this dance between the lines of love, betrayal and duty couldn’t last forever. That it could only be a fleeting moment and the second it was over, the harsh boundaries of war would be drawn yet again.

But surely it wouldn’t hurt to pretend for a little while longer?

[smolpocketsbg3]

The Last Moment (Tell Me Something Beautiful)

He could count on a single hand the number of times he had shared bed with the Chosen of Bhaal and each time had been an uneasy and untrusting affair even as the other slept soundly.

This time Gortash knew that something was different.

From the moment he opened the window to Sumi's polite taps, he knew something was different. Even before he got out the box of potions and poultice and so many unused scrolls lining the bottom.

Coming to him injured was not an unfamiliar sight; it was a risk that came with the favored pastimes of bhaalspawn, stalking the darkness for prey. Sometimes a fox was found instead of a rabbit. Sometimes a returning blade bit almost as deep as his own. All those times Sumi would come to him with a smile, languid and blood-drunk, and fuck him into the sheets while his own life soaked through the down and feather mattress long before he'd allow the Chosen of Bane to patch him up.

The thrill of dying.

That was what was absent this time.

This time, Sumi was quiet.

This was the kind of Sumi the Silence he was unfamiliar with.

Under the light of Selune that poured through massive windows, Gortash allowed his eyes to trail to the dark shape on the other side of his canopy bed, familiar charcoal grey skin interrupted by the sterile white of bandages that bound his side and back, a long braid of strands of obsidian silk pooled between them like a dead snake.

Something was different.

Something had happened.

And a fine shiver in his nearest and dearest's muscles told him he was right.

"Tell me something beautiful," Sumi's voice had bid of him as his hands carefully smoothed potion soaked gauze to the stabs his latest victim had achieved, the first words he had spoken in over thirty minutes.

Tell me something beautiful.

Eyes like Selune hung in the midnight sky wouldn't look at him, not at any of the injuries either that he was so prone to doing as though begging him to press a little harder, to make it hurt. It had made his fingers cautious, hesitant as he had wrapped Sumi's shoulder, uncertain of the demand.

Requested, he corrected himself as he watched the moonlit figure in his bed.

Sumi's every word had always an order, steady, level, and exact, but not this time.

Not this Sumi, whose voice had trembled barely above a whisper beneath his hands.

The question had stunned his mind silent for long seconds before he focused on the task of mending the dark tiefling before him, all the while chewing on what to respond. He had not made it as far as he had to stumble over his words, always carefully choosing each one to present like a gift.

Tell me something beautiful.

Had he known at the time that watching Sumi's shoulders tremble would make his chest ache, perhaps he would have said something different. Something that wasn't the entire city of Baldur's Gate bowed before their thrones, followed by the entire world.

They had known each other a long time.

Gortash recognized disappointment in his nearest and dearest when he saw it, the subtle tilt of his jaw and droop of those long tipped ears, even if nothing else touched his face.

But Sumi had said nothing, just let the silence echo between them until the last bandage had been set and then his full lips drew a wet breath.

And Sumi gave his own answer.

"The desperation to live."

That answer reverberated in the chambers of his mind as Gortash watched another shiver run through the lean muscles of Sumi's back, shadows cast by each sharp bump of his infernal spine and stillborn wings.

What had happened to Sumi to make him give that answer, to be shaking in his bed?

Gortash dared a sleepy inhale before allowing his hand to fall away, to casually brush against Sumi's back and he watched every ripcord muscle in Sumi's body stiffen to the touch.

They knew the touch of one another unlike anything else, intimately familiar with all things except for the taste of each other's mouths, the only thing his favorite assassin never allowed, but somehow this moment felt more intimate than every whispered word in the darkness, every bruising press of flesh, every time they had ever danced together for the luxury of the show all put together.

And Gortash closed his eyes.

This Chosen of Bhaal he could dare himself to rest beside, this one with so many thousands of thoughts revolving in his tumultuous mind so loudly they had been plain as day through the marble mask of flesh Sumi had masterfully crafted of himself.

Just when he thought sleep was about to claim him, there was the softest rustle of sheets, just barely there, like the flutter of a bird's wing, and for a moment Gortash wondered if he was wrong, if he still couldn't trust this man.

But that was changed when the heavy linen slid against his skin in a way that was familiar, the recognizable roll of movement on the mattress, and the familiar heat of Sumi's body coming to rest against him in the most unfamiliar way: head heavily resting against his breast and a hand hesitating before settling at his hip.

He dared not move.

There was something incredibly sacred about this moment, endlessly foreign of them both but.... to disturb it would be a grave sin in the eyes of every god, even his.

What would Sumi's beloved bloodied Father think, for his favored son to lay his ear over Gortash's heart without a drop of blood spilt between them?

He savored the realization that this moment might be the first of many and as his heart calmed, he thanked whatever moment had driven Sumi away from his usual taste of blood and murder to be... this.

Enver Gortash didn't even stir as the softest whisper of, "Forgive me, Father," was uttered into the black of the night.

And though Sumi was gone before he woke, the bed still warm with the memory.

[jadegretz]

Manon: Crimson Rose of Interpol by Jade Gretz

Manon wasn't always a phantom, a whisper of death gliding through moonlit alleys. Once, she was Anya, a child with eyes the color of sunlit wheat and laughter that could chase away storm clouds. But the laughter died the day the Crimson Hand descended upon her village, leaving a trail of blood and ash in its wake.

They came for the mages, whispered accusations of treason painting the air. Her parents, healers with calloused hands and gentle smiles, were among the accused. Anya watched in numb horror as they were dragged away, her screams swallowed by the roar of the mob.

In the chaos, a cloaked figure scooped her up, a woman with eyes like amethysts and a voice like wind chimes amidst a blizzard. This was Morrigan, the leader of the Crimson Hand, a woman as beautiful as she was merciless.

Anya became Morrigan's shadow, trained in the art of silence and death. The days were filled with grueling drills, the nights haunted by the specter of her slaughtered family. Each kill, cold and calculated, etched another scar on her soul, turning her laughter into a chilling silence.

Years blurred into a dance of blood and sorrow. Anya became Manon, a weapon honed to perfection, devoid of emotion. Yet, beneath the surface, embers of defiance flickered. She devoured forbidden texts, seeking knowledge Morrigan deemed dangerous. In dusty scrolls, she discovered the truth – the mages weren't traitors, but pawns in a power struggle fueled by fear and paranoia.

Fueled by this revelation, Manon started leaving cryptic messages, a trail of breadcrumbs hidden in spilled blood and discarded daggers. Messages only a trained mage could decipher, messages leading to a rebellion brewing in the shadows.

Morrigan noticed, her amethyst eyes glinting with suspicion. One moonless night, Manon found herself trapped in a training yard, Morrigan's crimson blade singing a deadly song. The fight was a whirlwind of steel and desperation, but Morrigan, older and more cunning, disarmed her.

"You dare betray me, little viper?" Morrigan hissed, the tip of her blade inches from Manon's throat.

…(see the rest of the story at deviantart.com/jadegretzAI). For more supergirl, chun li, batgirl, tifa, lara croft, wonder woman, rogue and much more, please visit my page at www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai - Thanks for your support :)

[xxladyballadxx]

I Remember..

 Clive Rosfield x Reader

ANGST

“(Y/n), it’s me! Clive! Don’t you remember me?!” Clive was trying to jog your memory. He realised you’ve been brainwashed by Benedikta and Barnabas and that wasn’t so long ago. Clive have been searching for you for years ever since the invasion at his home. Clive never stopped searching for you, he teamed up with others and made a few friends on the long way, they agreed to help him find his lover. Clive managed to bump into Jill somehow and she also believes that you’re not dead. 

*Flashback*

When Clive first encountered you hunting down a wanted man, he approached you slowly but you heard his footsteps coming close to you and blast your powers at him.  Clive backed up shocked when you tried to attack him. He called out your name and kept telling you that “It’s me, Clive..” he knows you but you on the other hand don’t seem to remember him at all. You fought him and tried to dispose of him, Clive kept parrying your every move. He was confused on why you attacked him. You forgotten about your task so you headed back to your masters to report to them. 

Leaving Clive all alone questioning about what really happened to you...

“(Y/n), why don’t you remember me..?”

*Flashback ended*

“(Y/n), please! Listen to us!” Jill tried to grabbed you from behind, you sensed her approaching so you blasted her out of the way as she hits against the wall.  Clive grabbed both of your wrists, trying to stop you from escaping, “(Y/n), we don’t want to hurt you! We want to save you! You’re being controlled by them!” 

You struggled to escape from his grasp, “Who the hell said I need to be saved? GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!” you high kicked him in the stomach making Clive lose his balance as he got knocked off to the ground. 

You went back to fighting Jill and the others who appeared to be Clive’s comrades/friends, Benedikta aided you in the fight. 

As Clive rose up, Barnabas marched towards him and pointed the tip of his blade at him, “No matter what nonsense you say to her, she will never remember you. Try with all your might, (Y/n) will never go back to you.” 

Clive felt the anger burning up inside him, he unsheathed his blade and swung it swiftly at Barnabas, “You took her from me, I will make you pay!” as the two of them fought aggressively, Clive accidentally dropped a red pendant on the ground while he was too focused fighting Barnabas and didn’t notice it. Somehow it caught your eye, you backed away from the fight and slowly crept to pick up the pendant. You were examining it and its shine of radiant light triggered your memories that you’ve lost, all those memories involved spending time with Clive and watching the moonlit sky together. You had a bit of panic making you drop the pendant. 

You spotted Clive injured on the ground and he was about to be stabbed by Barnabas. “Clive..” You mumbled his name and rushed over to save him. 

“You’re finished!” Barnabas shouted as he was close to launching his final attack on Clive. “No!” As you ran quickly over to Clive’s side, you stood in front of him as he watched you get stabbed by Barnabas. Barnabas was stunned by your action. He pulled out his blade and Clive caught you in his arms as you bled, coughing out blood from your mouth. “(Y/n)! No!” 

Barnabas snickered and sheathed his blade, “How touching, it seems like she got her memories back. Well...most of it at least. Benedikta, let’s go, we must take our leave.” he marched off, “Hmph, seems like the fun is over. Until next time.” Benedikta stepped away from the fight and left with Barnabas outside. Both vanished into thin air. 

Jill and the others dashed over to see you being held in Clive’s arms, she gasped when she noticed the stab wound on you, “(Y/n)..” Jill mumbled, she dropped her sword as she shed tears. The others were shocked to see what just happened. “Clive....I remember...I really remember our times together...” You recalled the wonderful moments you spent with him, you spoke in a very weak condition and were about to lose your senses. “Please, please stay with me, (Y/n). Don’t go. Please don’t leave me..” Clive sniffled, your face held in his hand. You looked up to him with a sad-happy face, “Clive, you silly man, who will forever be in my heart. Just remember; I will never forget you and I will always love you from the bottom of my heart.” You leaned in as the two of you kissed, it was a kiss of goodbye. “It should have been me, not you, (Y/n).” Clive stated, started to blame himself for what happened. “We will see each other again, Clive, in the next life. Someday we will be together again. I will see Joshua when I’m there, I miss that little man so much and I know how much he means to you. I love you, Clive.” You placed your hand onto his face, disposing of the tears. “I will always...” You couldn’t utter your last words to him, you accepted your fate and shut your eyes for eternity. 

Clive sobbed, trying to wake you up but you were already gone. Gone forever. He held you more close to him, “(Y/n)...(Y/n)?...(Y/N)!” he felt the ache of his heart falling into despair, Clive leaned his face to yours and looked up to the sky, shouted your name out loud in pain and agony, “(Y/N)!!!!!!!!” 

Jill sobbed tearfully as she watched Clive who lost the love of his life. Others looked away in sadness, finding it painful to watch. Clive rose up and carried your corpse in his arms, walking off to bury your body. His friends followed behind him. Anger and pain were marked on his face, he turned over to rage and had planned to hunt down Barnabas for murdering you. The one he held so dear...

(A/n) - I’ve cried while writing the ending ;-; it was really heart-breaking for me as I wrote the end. So fucking painful too. I have this feeling that a lot of bad shit is going to happen in FFXVI and it’s so kind of OBVIOUS! Well, will you all excuse me while I lie down in my bed and scream my heart out crying and suffering in agony ;-;

[moondrop39-dovewing70]

Little Stars~Prolouge

I, Dovewing70/Moondrop39, do not own Lego Monkie Kid’s plot or its characters. I only own my original characters and the plot of this fanfic. Please support the original work! 

This fanfic contains LGBTQ+ themes (such as Shadowpeach or Freenoodles), gore, smut, swearing, and a lot of angst. Reader discretion is advised. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The inky black expanse of the night sky plunged the world in its cold grasp, the mortal plane falling under the calm embrace of the shadows. The shadows being playfully pushed back by one single ethereal light of the night sky, the silver orb of the full moon illuminated a large flushed valley of flora and fauna. Large trees clung to the edges of the valley making the majority of it a large clearing. The clearing shone with white flowers, which under the silver light of the moon, illuminated the clearing with an ethereal glow of silver. 

A soft breeze grazed among the flowers, pushing the flora into the westward direction of the breeze and allowing the soft rustling of the blades to push among one another. The breeze pushed among the trees and crawled amongst the rocks of the mountains, which acted as barriers among the valley. Soon the air buzzed with energy as a presence pushed from the edges of the valley to the beginning edges of the clearing full of flowers. 

The creature stood at six feet tall with soft black fur clinging to its form as a red cape softly blew in the breeze. A bright yellow half long sleeve shirt overlapped over a black half long sleeve shirt which was stitched together as one. The bright yellow sleeve covered the right arm of the creature while the black fabric covered the left arm. A bronze armor vest with yellow and black lining around the neckline of the vest covered the chest of the creature, shining under the silver light of the moon. A long thin piece of black cloth wrapped the lower half of the creature, making a sort of belt to hold the lower half’s garments up. A pair of red pants covered the legs of the creature with a bronze armor covering the pants like a skirt with yellow lining along the armor’s edges. A pair of black shoes were tucked away within the long grass and white flowers.

The creature’s purple eyes gleamed in the moonlit night, its gaze turned upwards revealing a red feathered mask around its darkly tan skin. Two bushy black eyebrows crinkled into a disgruntled look as a thin line stood firm on the creature’s lips. Dark tan hands gripped tightly onto the edges of the belt, the fingers grazing gently among the textured fabric. Six lotus petaled ears flicked with the wind as a black furry monkey tail curled loosely around the creature’s feet. The tip twitched side to side, reflecting the current mood that was clouding the simian’s face.

As the moon crawled across the night sky into its final destination of the night, the black simian face seemed to become even more disgruntled. Their ears flicked behind them a few moments before a loud crash was heard throughout the edges of the clearing. The six ears pressed along the sides of their head as purple eyes glanced behind them to stare at the noisy arrival to the peaceful clearing. 

Standing in a small creator a couple feet behind the black simian stood another creature that was similar in shape but with a few notable differences. Instead of black fur and dark tan skin with a black monkey tail, the newcomer had brightly orange fur with pale skin with only one set of pale monkey ears with a long fluffed up orange tail. A soft pink mask shaped in a peach adorned the face of the new being as sharp golden eyes stared at the black simian. The newcomer was the same in height, the only difference being a large two feathered hair dress giving them a key edge over the other simian. 

The newcomer’s red cape blew softly in the wind as the six ears unfurled from their pressed positions. A bright long sleeve shirt was covered by a golden armored vest with two winged shoulder plates on either side. A pair of maroon red pants were held up by a thick red ribbon which held together a teal feathered skirt below the gold armor around the legs with red accents around the edges of the armor. A pair of black boots covered with a bit of dust from the impromptu landing gleamed ever so slightly in the silver light of the falling moon. 

The air buzzed with the seeming tensed atmosphere as the black furred simian slowly turned to face the newcomer. Purple eyes gazed upon the brow of the orange furred newcomer, narrowing on a softly gleaming golden filet. It was settled softly among the fur as though it was the newcomer’s crown. Teeth gnashed angrily within the cheeks of the black simian’s mouth as his black bushy brows furrowed as a deeply etched frown echoed within their features.

Seeming to sense the obvious anger at the golden filet upon their head, a pale hand tentatively touched the right edge of the filet. Golden eyes were clouded with conflicting emotions as purple eyes pulled away within a flash, the black tail flicking with the annoyance of its owner. As the hand fell to its side, an obvious internal war raged within the orange being, reflecting well with his face. 

After a while, the orange one’s mouth opened and whispered out a single name, “Macaque…” 

Purple eyes snapped back onto gold, a firm frown on their face as they echoed back with another name, “Sun Wukong…”

A lengthy silence swallowed the two as a soft breeze blew the capes, the two simain’s seeming to fall into their own internal thoughts. The black simian, Macaque, drew his gaze away from the other, the gaze turning to the open clearing. The light of the moon danced among the white flowers, waning as the silver rays faded below the horizon. Feeling a burning gaze into his chest, purple eyes once more met with bright gold. 

Macaque’s breath got stuck in his throat at the sight of the other’s look in his direction, wanting to make him turn away and not look back. Sun Wukong’s body was trembling from clashing emotions which were reflected in the way his lip would tremble and his face flashed with the obvious feelings he wanted to spill to the other. Gold eyes flashed with some very common emotions that Macaque was used to seeing in others, such as rage, betrayal, and emotional pain, but not in the orange fur simian. 

As Macaque swallowed down the building lump in the back of his throat, Wukong’s voice echoed once more in the still clearing, “Why?”

Macaque felt his foot slide backwards as Wukong’s face darkened and his body wracked with obvious tremors, “Why did you do it?”

“Why?” Macaque’s voice cut through the air, his tail lashing behind him as he furiously glared at the gleaming golden filet on the other’s brow, his hand gesturing to it as his lips pulled back into snarl, “They were hurting you! After all you were doing to protect them, all they did to you was cause you pain!” 

The following silence swallowed the two after the black simian’s rage filled shout echoed in the clearing. Macaque’s deep huffs vibrated within all six of his ears as he felt his hands curl into a fist, his long nails digging into the skin of his palm. The stinging of his nails burying deep within the flesh of his fist didn’t stop it from shaking. Golden eyes turned away sharply from the intense stare of purple. 

With a couple deep breaths, Macaque closed his eyes and forced his body to relax at the other’s obvious shock at his outburst. Shifting his weight, he turned his back towards Wukong’s form, unknowingly causing the other to snap his attention back onto the black simian. Golden eyes stared at the back of Macaque’s head as a hand reached out to touch the other’s back. 

As Wukong’s hand was about to touch the back of Macaque’s red cape, it flinched backwards. The fingers curled back a bit as though about to touch a scared animal’s form, preparing for the animal to attack in fear of being harmed. Holding his hand at a distance, it slowly fell back to his side as he gazed to the side. Allowing the silence to fill the void around the two. 

“You didn’t have to hurt him,” Wukong’s voice cut through the silence, close to Macaque’s ears causing purple eyes to snap open, “Once I am done on the pilgrimage, I’ll return home.”

“What home?” Macaque’s snarl cut off any other words that Wukong was going to speak, golden eyes widening at the other’s shaking form. 

At the other’s silence, Macaque whipped around, closing the distance between the two causing Wukong’s golden eyes to blaze with shock and his body recoiled at the other’s close proximity. Their noses were only an inch apart and Wukong couldn’t help but feel the heat rush to his face at the other’s facial features. Macaque’s eyes blaze with a ferocious fire, his nose wrinkling and his eyebrows furrowed downwards. 

His lips pulled back into a snarl as Macaque glared heavily into Wukong’s own shocked expression, a rage-filled shout exiting his mouth, “We don’t have a home! It’s burned to a crisp by the heavens who seemed to have taken the great sage and turned him into an obedient dog!” 

“Where is your honor and loyalty?” Macaque’s eyes narrowed as he continued to growl, jabbing a finger into Wukong’s chest causing the other to shuffle backwards at each jab, “Because it is certainly not with your family!” 

As the sentences exited Macaque’s mouth, Wukong’s eyes narrowed and a snarl exited his mouth causing Macaque to freeze, allowing Wukong to grip the other’s wrists with his hands. The black simian’s fur fluffed up as Wukong’s own orange tail snapped to the sides of his body. Purple eyes met a ferocious golden blaze as Wukong leaned dangerously close to Macaque’s face, causing the other to lean back. Macaque’s six ears pressed close to his head as the two noses touched causing a familiar heat to arise in Macaque’s chest. 

“I did it to protect our family,” Wukong growled out, his grip loose around the other’s wrists, “If I went back, they would have done the same thing and history would repeat itself.”

“I don’t believe you,” huffed Macaque at the other’s words, his own eyes narrowing igniting a purple spark within it’s owners eyes. 

With a yank, the black simain’s wrists were freed from the others and he took many steps backwards from the other. Wukong’s form was still seeming to be frozen, his hands still in the same position as when he held the other’s wrists. His golden eyes watched as Macaque turned away and walked towards a familiar direction, causing them to narrow. 

“Whatever you are planning to do, Macaque,” Wukong’s sharp growl caused the other to pause in his movements, “Don’t do it.”

“Do what?” Macaque questioned with a growl of his own, “Doing what is right for our home and our people?” 

Silence swallowed the two as the moon descended past the horizon, allowing her partner to take the reins to begin a new day. As the star's twinkles started to fade with the moon’s rays, the shadows began to be pushed back by the first golden rays of the sun. Macaque could still feel the other’s gaze on his form, a feeling that once gave him a soft warmth now gave him an unquenchable fire within his chest. A fire he wanted to take out on the ones that were preventing the reunion he wanted, the one that was deserved.

“Macaque,” the black simian’s movements once again started to pick up, seeming to ignore the other simian’s call, “Macaque!”

The orange simian quickly pushed off from his position with a gust of wind that caused the six ears to flick in annoyance. Purple eyes narrow on the other simian’s outstretched form in the southwestern direction. Wukong’s own gaze narrowed on the other’s angered expression and rigid posture. Macaque’s fists that were at his side started to shake as he tried to move around Wukong, only to be blocked by the orange fur simian’s body. 

“Sun Wukong, move,” the cold order almost made Wukong back off from the other, almost. 

“No,” Wukong answered, causing purple eyes to narrow into dangerous slits, “This has to stop.”

A huff escaped Macaque’s mouth as he once again tried to move around Wukong’s form, only to be blocked and be pushed back slightly by the other’s tail. As another attempt was foiled by Wukong’s obnoxious movements, Macaque let out a snarl and tried to push past the other only to be pushed back himself. 

“What is wrong with you?” Wukong asked, his golden eyes narrowing in a calculated stare at the other who stared back with one of his own. 

Macaque did not respond and instead slipped into the ground in a swirling black and purple oval of shadows and magic. Wukong’s golden eyes narrowed and a growl exited his mouth as he quickly whipped around to see Macaque exit from the makeshift portal only a few feet behind him. The black simian seemed unaffected by the magical transportation he just pulled to get away from the other. 

A gust of air caused the other to glower in anger and frustration as the same body that he just by-passed was once more in front of him. Golden eyes stared back with as much anger and frustration as the other, Wukong’s lips were pressed into a firm line as the other snarled. 

Purple eyes glared as a frustrated growl passed his lips, “Move, Wukong, the monk deserves to die.”

“‘Deserves’?” Wukong asked, his voice dripping with a dangerous tone that Macaque felt he had heard before but as the thought crossed his mind, a growled out order cut through the air, “I think you need to go, Macaque.”

Macaque’s gaze glanced into the gold eyes of his counterpart and in that moment, Macaque felt a sharp pain in his chest. The golden eyes gleam with determination to protect the monk and his other friends, the same ones that Macaque wanted to tear apart. He knew the look multiple times and it usually ended with the opponent without a head. 

“If you think that little look of yours is going to stop me from destroying those weaklings,” Macaque felt the anger and pain wash away all the other senses as he summoned the shadows to his aid, a purplish black mass growing in his left hand, “Then you need to think again.”

With a rage-filled shout, Macaque swung his left hand outwards and the purplish black mass elongated and slammed into Wukong’s chest sending the other flying backwards. Within the hands of Macaque was a purplish black staff of pure shadow magic that had spiked heads on either side. He spun it around himself before leaping at Wukong’s body once more. 

Wukong at the sight of the rage-induced simian charging at him, reached for his right ear and pulled out a staff that gleamed gold. Its red wood was well polished and the golden tips gleamed in the morning rays, the engravings of the air etched along the metal soon met the barbed end of the other’s with a loud clang. 

The two beings swirled with their respective magic, gold and purple. The two slam into one another with their respective staffs, allowing the clangs of their staffs to drown out with their angered shouts of rage at the other. The deadly dance of swinging and dodging caused most of the flowers in the clearing to lose their petals and flow in the wind. 

Macaque blocked another swing from the other’s staff and jabbed out the other end of his staff at his opponent’s head, who ducked at the last second. A frustrated growl exited his mouth as he twisted his body away from a kick. 

Wukong’s own face twisted with concentration and complete focus, he knew that Macaque’s own anger would cloud his judgment. He needed to focus on the other’s movements and counteract enough to disable him. 

Seeing an opening, Wukong twirled his staff to the side and swung, allowing the golden edge to slam into the other’s open chest. A loud crack and a pain filled screech filled the air as the other was tossed into the ground, leaving a crater. At the sight of his opponent falling, Wukong easily moved to the edge of the crater. It should have been enough for them to move to a safer area, enough time for the other simian to cool his mind. 

The sight of a barbed staff heading straight for his chest caused the orange simian to twist his body to the side, allowing it to slide past. Golden eyes widened as black fur suddenly slammed into him. The inertia of the attack sent him flying backwards into a couple hundred trees, leveling them flat and sent his staff flying. 

A groan escaped Wukong’s mouth as he looked up to see Macaque grab his staff from its grounded position before sprinting towards him, purple eyes glazed over with so much rage. Leaping up from his old position, he quickly dodged the incoming swing and flipped backwards, landing near his own staff. 

Gripping it with his tail, he passed it along his hands, blocking another attack from the black simian. A growl of anger flashing between the two, golden eyes hardened at the sight of the other’s rage. If the other simian refused to stay down after one hard strike, then he would force him to stay down. 

The two simian’s fight led them to the air, causing the two to slam with their respective magic. Golden and purple flashes echoed throughout the morning air, the daylight standing witness to the fight of the two powerful beings. The fast pace fight flying through the air as the morning continued on marching.

After hours of the fight, the two were starting to lose stamina allowing Wukong to see another opening on his opponent’s body. Wukong flung his staff into the face of the other aiming for the right eye, allowing the end stabbing into the eye. 

A screech of pure pain echoed the air causing Wukong’s eyes to narrow and his teeth to grit as the other’s body flew downwards slamming into a previous crater. Sending more dirt into the air and allowing a loud cloud of dust to swallow the two’s position. Golden eyes stared at the other with calculated battle prowess. 

Macaque spat out the copper tasting liquid pooling from his eye along with dirt, closing both his eyes, he tried to force his body up. He needed to keep fighting against his once close friend and make them see reason. He needed to bring Wukong home and away from those pilgrims.

He felt a hand on his shoulders and he swung with his fist, only to have it caught and have his back slammed against the ground. He opened his one good eye to see Wukong staring at him with exasperated anger. He needed to keep Macaque down so that heaven wouldn’t punish the black simian like it did with him. So that history wouldn’t repeat himself. 

Wukong didn’t have to push down hard for long as the black simain’s legs gave way after a couple of minutes of violent shaking. A gasp came from the black simian as his back slammed once more on the earth, this time facing the sky and the fading light of the white stars. Gold eyes scoured the other’s expression, a painful feeling surge within Wukong’s chest as he watched the crimson blood flow from the other’s eye and the shaking of the black simian’s body as it forced itself to try and get into a sitting postion before falling back into the dirt. 

“What am I to you?” the black simian whispered, sending a cold shiver down Wukong’s spine, an eerie smile gracing the simian’s crazed features. 

The eeriness of the smile seemed to solidify an appropriate response writhing within the mind of the orange furred simian. Even though Wukong didn’t want to do this to his old friend, he had to keep his other family safe. Once the pilgrimage is done, he would return home and repair all the damage he left behind. 

With shaking hands, he stradled the others hips with his feet, pinning anyway for the other to escape. His shoulders shook as he lifted his staff above his head, preparing to slam the edge into the other’s head. Biting the lump in the back of his throat, Wukong stared at the crazed eyes of his once best friend.

“You were my friend,” he coldly responded, his eyes blazing with golden fire, “Now you are just my enemy.” 

With a shout, Wukong swung the end of his staff into Macaque’s head with as much force as three mountains. With a sickening crack, the staff buried itself within the right side of Macaque’s head. A red liquid shot outwards from the new blow, covering the right side of the black simian’s features in a crimson red. 

A loud gasp of pain shook the chest of the black simian’s body as he watched the orange simian, his once best friend, stand over him with a cugel. One of it’s golden ends covered in a bloody red, dripping onto the other side of his face. As the pain begin to register, Macaque felt his mind go back to when the two first became friends. When they were under one of the immortal peach trees and Wukong, in his opinion, foolishly made a promise to him. 

He remembered the exact words the king used, the same one standing ontop of him like a hero defeating the evil villain, “I promised to always protect you, Mihou.”

“Always?” Macaque remembered himself asking back with an awed expression at the king, the sun in his life. 

“Always!” Wukong replied, Macaque fondly remembers, with a bright smile, “Your king never makes a promise he can’t hold!”

But here Macaque was, broken in more ways than just the blood pooling from his head that made his mind foggy and his eyes hazy. He could feel the liquid pool around his body and feel the shudder within his chest of a fading breath. He could taste the copper liquid on his tongue and his nose burned with every breath, the coppery scent of blood coating every sense of his body. Every breath he took made him want to cry out even more, either from the heartbreak of another promise broken or from the physical pain could be up to interpretation. His world started to fade away around him but the only thing that stayed stark was the orange simian’s form. 

Golden eyes were glistening within the night as lips were pulled within a thin line, the bloodied staff being held in his left hand loosely while the right one reached out to him. The hand hovered over his chest as Macaque felt his body become heavier with each wheezing breath he let out. He looked closer at the face of the person he considered his best friend, seeing nothing but anger towards him and something else…something he couldn’t quite place at the moment. 

Though his body was failing him, he could feel it, Macaque was damned if he couldn’t say his final thoughts of this foolish golden simain. The one who made him feel special when others ridciuled his looks, who helped him become stronger and powerful, the same one who captured his attention and, in a way, his heart. 

“You lied,” Macaque whispered out, his vision fading fast but he manage to spit out the last part of his sentence with a pained whisper, “You promised….”

Wukong’s golden eyes snapped to attention at the words, his gaze staring straight at the other’s, before they fluttered closed. Wukong let out a whimper as he heard Macaque take a shaky deep breath in before exhaling, the black simian’s body going limp as he did so. Macaque didn’t take another breath in, his chest going still and the once, warrior-like heart that was beating just moments ago went silent. 

A loud anguished cry was releashed from the simain’s mouth as the sun began to rise over the horizon. The golden staff was released in seconds from the others grip, ringing as it hit the hard earth, while the orange simian hands wrapped around the other’s still face. The blood still dribbling out of the others nose and mouth. Salty tears poured out of the golden eyes as he pressed his head onto the other’s forehead, each sob heaving the chest of the monkey king. 

As the golden rays coated the earthly plane, Wukong stayed by the other side his anguished cries becoming muffled with time. The other finally lifted his arms away from the others, shaky fingers brushing through the blood soaked fur of his best friend. A large lump was in the his throat and tears continued to fall as he stared at the others still form, cooling even underneath the sun’s warm rays. 

Slowly Wukong pulled his body away from the other, moving only a couple inches to the right to sit beside him. Slowly he picked the other up as though they were a fragile piece of china, placing them between his open legs and into his lap. His orange tail curled around the other as he pushed the limp head into his warm chest, hoping that the movement and warmth would bring any breath of life back into his friend’s body. That the limp form of his friend would come alive and he could confess everything on his mind and heart. 

He felt himself rock himself back and forth while muttering into the six ears that were becoming dull within the golden rays of the sun, “Macaque please, come back to me. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Forgive me.”

He repeated those words over and over again but nothing happened, not even a flutter or a twitch. Even as the sun reached the peak of it’s journey, Wukong continued to mourn with quite pleads that fell on deaf ears. Tears continuing to pour out from his golden eyes, mixing with the red around them. Even as the blood that coated the two of them dried under the sun, Wukong barely moved from his rocking position. 

Wukong gritted his teeth tightly, feeling them grind against one another painfully as the lump in the back of his throat continued to grow. He was planning to go back to his home after the journey, to reject the Buddha title and ask to be simply a hero for others. When he was home, he was going to take his moonlight to his birthplace and ask him to be his mate. To be with him forever but here his moon was, laying limp after his attack. No longer breathing to make a sassy comment, no longer having a heart beat that would always calm him down, no longer….alive to be with him forever. 

A choked sound exited the ginger simian’s lips as he felt more tears fall down his face, pulling his moon, his Macaque closer, he lifted his head up and cried out with an anguish cry, “I loved you Macaque! Please come back to me! I’m sorry!” 

Previous / Next

[strykingback]

EVENT REVEAL...

OST: Secrets Of The Deserts (Autoplay Warning and SpoilerFor FFXIV)

"I don't know whats up with that Temple. But... it looks as if it has something to do with Vacuo." Hideyoshi would say, while a scene switches to Blade looking at the temple with eyes set a glow with the sun setting behind it.

"I know that you all are quite tired since your excursion into the World of the Dead. However, we believe that Salem's forces are beginning to make their move." A commanding voice said.

STRYKINGBACK PRESENTS....

"Whatever happens we need to be ready for what Salem throws at us. Not just in Shade but in Solarius City as well." Louvels voice spoke showing the two cities.

"Be warned, Children of Man....these temples shall lead you to further dangers than before. To the Grimm Terror of Vacuo....." Another voice will say with a mans fist tightening in his grip.

OST: Wrath of the Scions of Salem (Auto play warning!)

"This the Solarius City Defense System! We are Under Attack!!! I repeat!! WE ARE UNDER ATTACK!!!!!" A voice will say showing Cinder, Minos, Tartarus, and Omega attacking any nearby Atelier soldiers they can find.

"We the Scions of Salem do not require allies, we do not form friendships, nor we do need the foolish illusions of dreams to carry us." Minos' voice would say with Hideyoshi's shielf glowing as it looks as if he is in combat with someone.

"Come now! Fear is in everyone! Faunus, Human, Grimm!! IT REALLY DOESNT MATTER TO ME!!!!!" Tartarus shouts as he rushes at Louvel who has a look of shock on his face.

"How far are you willing to go to claim power then Professor Krieg? Because now.... I have it at the tips of my very fingers." Watts would say showing a wounded Krieg holding his arm.

"Machine and Man.... that is what Watts and I shall do..... turn this place into nothing but mere Metal..." Omega said while it shows Corona and Kazura laying on the floor wounded whil Cinder looks back with a smirk on her face to which Blades lip trembles a bit until....

"Just... Just.... WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE CINDER!!!!!!!"

OST: Grace of the Moonlit Sky (Autoplay Warning/Spoiler for FFXIV)

"Another Temple?! This time in the sky?!" Merlinda said, showing the temple as Tessa smirks holding the Relic of Destruction in her hands.

"If we are going to stop Salem and the Grimm Terror we're going to need the power of three Grimm Titans!" Krieg would say showing a mural of the three Titans.

"What concerns me is why did she create the Warriors of Vacuo...." Hideyoshi said crossing his arms, while a magical hologram of the possible leader of the Warriors of Vacuo looked at something.

"Well I cant just send you back out there with your weapons looking like shit." A gravely voice said with Inferno and Voltage being destroyed by someone......

AN EVENT TO KICK OFF THE NEW YEAR

"It's going to be a FUNERAL FOR THE FUCKING LIVING!!!!!!" A voice said excitedly with someone standing behind a surge of lighting while Tyrian backs up nervously.

"No matter what happens." Louvel said.

"No Matter How Long it Takes Us" Corona would say "No Matter The Cost" Kazura says "We Will Be The Guardians Of The Light." Blade and Hideyoshi would say pointing their weapons at the Grimm Terror as it reveals the Underground Temple possibly holding the Grimm Terror.

STRYKINGBACK HEREBY PRESENTS:

THE THREE-PART EVENT: SECRETS OF VACUO

"Power..... I WANT MORE!!!!!!!" Cinders voice growls out in a much more distorted manner.

COMING EARLY JANUARY 2024

[keeper-of-all-the-random-things]

12. HEART AND HUNTER

Whumptober | Alt. 8 Hunting | No. 20 You will regret touching them | No. 22 Watch Out

In which Sam has another bad day.

Previous | Next

*****

The plan went to hell before it even started.

That night, after Thomas delivered his message, Sam woke to the sound of shattering glass.  He had the wherewithal to put on his shoes before finding Thomas in the moonlit living room.  Thomas gestured silently, and they crept through the dark house away from the intruders.  Out the side door, into the trees.

Thomas was quiet and surefooted as he led them on.

Sam ran on adrenaline.  He knew he wouldn’t be able to keep this pace for long.  One day was not enough time to recover from Agency training.

He tried to keep up, and Thomas checked back with him, but it was no use.  Sam fell, and Thomas was gone, swallowed by the dark.  

Sam didn’t dare call out.  He debated whether to go after Thomas or to hide.  It turned out he had no choice.

A thick arm grabbed him around his waist, a meaty hand cutting off his startled cry.

It was too much like the first time.  Sam wouldn’t let them get him as easily now.  He bit and scratched and kicked at his captor, which was about as useful as kicking cement.

His captor chuckled.  “Hey, hey!  I got a wiggly one. Ha!”

Of course it was Wallace.  Sam deflated.  He couldn’t overpower Wall, even on a good day.

Wall half dragged, half carried Sam back towards the house where a few agents stood in a ring on the front lawn.  Stedman was noticeably missing.

Ellison greeted them with the painfully familiar handcuffs.  She grinned at Wall.  “Nice catch!  Don’t worry, Morissette.  We didn’t forget the blindfold.”  She winked.  “We want to make sure you don’t miss the fun stuff.  And speak of the devil!”

As if on cue, a pair of agents arrived out of the trees.  Thomas thrashed and cursed between them, though he’d been restrained before they joined the group.  Once in the circle, they pushed him to his knees.  

Thomas glared at anyone who passed his sight.

“Great!”  Ellison clapped her hands.  “Everyone’s together.  Let’s get going.”

They dispersed, separating Sam and Thomas into different vehicles. 

…..

Sam was back in that stupid metal chair.  He was practically free, though, compared to Thomas who had been restrained almost comically in tape and metal to another chair across from Sam.

“This could have gone better,” Sam said.

“You don’t say.”

“What now?”

“We have to find Nora.”  Thomas pinched his lips to a thin line, hands clenching and unclenching against the chair arms.

“Don’t strain yourself, Tommy.”  Stedman shut the door softly and placed herself between Sam and Thomas.  “It never needed to be this hard.”

“As long as we did exactly what you wanted,” Thomas said bitterly.

Stedman shook her head.  “I tried to find someone else.  But no one was as good as you.  No one can replace you, Tommy.”

“Maybe rethink your methods?” Sam suggested.

“Don’t call me Tommy,” Thomas said at the same time.

“I’ll give you another chance, Tommy,” Stedman said, ignoring them both.  She produced a folding knife from her pants pocket and began cutting Thomas free.

Thomas watched her warily as she moved behind Sam.

Sam could feel Stedman hovering over him, his pulse racing with her out of his sight.

“Here’s the deal,” Stedman said.  “I have some, let’s say, loose ends for you to take care of.”

“No,” Thomas said immediately.  He stood.

Stedman tsked.  “You will, or your new friend will have a very bad time.”

Sam gasped as Stedman yanked his head back, the tip of her knife grazing his throat.

“He’s not my friend,” Thomas said impassively.

Stedman pressed the blade deeper into Sam’s skin.  “Watch out, Tommy.  That attitude could be his end.”

Thomas lurched forward a step.

Sam gripped the chair arms until his knuckles turned white.  He tried to catch Thomas’s eye, to guess what he was planning, but Thomas only looked at Stedman.

“You won’t do it,”  Thomas said.  “You wouldn’t get your hands dirty.  Otherwise, you wouldn’t need me.”  He came another step closer.

Stedman tightened her grip and said nothing.

“Thomas,” Sam breathed.  He shivered as the knife broke skin.  Blood dripped hot down his throat.

Thomas didn’t break eye contact with Stedman.

“You’ll regret that,” he said, low and dangerous.

“Life’s too short for regret,” Stedman replied.

Thomas quirked a cold smile.  “Just long enough.”  Another step.

Stedman released her hold on Sam.  He took a shuddered breath in short lived relief.

“I’m doing this for you,” Stedman said to Thomas.  “When you have an answer, you know where to find me.”

“The answer is no,” Thomas said.

“Think harder.”

Sam’s vision shattered as Stedman stabbed her knife into his side.

“Looks like you’ll have one more death on your hands, Tommy.”  Stedman pulled the knife out and ran.

Sam watched Thomas hesitate, gaze flipping between Sam and the open door after Stedman.  Between ragged breaths, he managed to bite out, “Go get her.”

Thomas was still undecided when Sam passed out.

[dimensionalspades]

@imposingclaymore said: “I love you. Most Ardently.” for vitt!

- pride & prejudice || accepting -

. Tarhos could be a quiet man. Vittorio appreciated that about him sometimes; other times, it drove him to madness.

. Whatever they were becoming had developed in those quiet spaces, the moments of respite: bandaging Tarhos' hand after a battle, moonlit nights staring at constellations, stretches on the road when Domenico and Vihar seemed to have more dialogue than their riders. He couldn't say when it started, nor where it was going, but they were on the precipice of something, that much Vittorio knew. To upset that balance... would it be worth it?

. The fact that neither had spoken their feelings aloud weighed on him sometimes; did Tarhos know the lengths Vittorio would go, just keep him by his side? Could he possibly understand how much Vittorio struggled with wanting to keep Tarhos out of harm's way despite knowing he was best suited in this role? It would change nothing, Tarhos Kovács would not be happy as an idle body.

. In the end, Vittorio was the one to say first.

. An assassin had set a trap, a forest road blocked by a fallen tree that forced the caravan to slip through single file. He had targeted the Duke, knocking Vittorio from his horse. There was no time to follow up before Tarhos was on him, parrying a blow and slamming the pommel of his blade against the man's gut. Quick as a whip, the assassin sank his blade into a seam in Tarhos' armor. In no time, Alejandro and Durkos subdued the assassin, the pair of them taking orders from Vittorio to take the would-be assassin to the nearby town while Sandor helped Vittorio back to his feet.

. The caravan was stopped, camp set up when they were no longer surrounded by forest. In Vittorio's tent, the Duke tended to Tarhos' wounds, careful hands cleaning the wound on Tarhos' shoulder as he tried not to focus on the sound Tarhos had made when the blade connected with skin.

. He murmured those words to his knight as he worked; softly, trying to sound more confident than he felt as he wound bandages around Tarhos' broad chest.

. "I love you, Tarhos." For all his bravado, the idea that saying three words could possibly break off this cherished arrangement had sat like bile in his gut, made his knees weak. Would it frighten the Knight, send him running? Would Vittorio be demolishing this thing they had by tipping them over that precipice?

. But then, it was echoed back, and he relaxed muscles he hadn't known he'd been straining, let out a breath he hadn't know he'd been holding. He leaned forward, head and hands resting on Tarhos' shoulders as he simply breathed. Then, Vittorio moved to cup Tarhos' face, kissed him gently.

. "Then stay here, tonight." And perhaps all other nights as well.

[pettyelves]

silent in the snow; Astrid

A frigid night in Ashenvale, a soft flurry of snow to drift through the trees. It's unseasonable and demands a risky fire in the cave they hide in. Soft orange light casts out from the walls and refracts in each falling snowflake.

She's sat across from a girl barely in her twenties called Niamh, and she isn't much older. Niamh is new, prone to mistakes and complaining and sits babbling without end curled up in the thickest fur she could find. "How much longer before we can move on?" She asks.

"As long as it takes for the patrols to ease off the roads," the elder girl answers, blatant in her annoyance.

"It's freezing," Niamh whines back.

"Think about this the next time you don't follow the rules."

The younger exhaled dramatically, nearly pulling her entire head into the fur. "How was I supposed to know there wa--"

It's a crack some distance from the cave, then the furious clinking of a boots down the incline and out toward the trees. She shuts her eyes and swears she hears the unsheathing of a sword. "Shut up," the elder girl commands, and seconds later a high whistle sounds the alarm she suspects.

Bow in hand, the elder girl doesn't hesitate to go to her comrade's aid. Cathal is the eldest of them, but not the fastest. As she crests the hill, she sees a blade fly backward and catch his shoulder, his sword crashing to the ground. She doesn't stop as he waves her, "Scout from the West. Go. I’m ight behind you."

She doesn't stop running-- Niamh and Cathal's footsteps further and further behind her. The scout wears the colors of their Great People. Shadows bend in her wake. Lose sight of the shadow stepper and it's over. A primordial voice warns. You can't make the shot through the trees. Another, weaker voice berates. She stops in the snow suddenly, her bow creaking with full draw. This is the primordial enemy The tip of her arrow hovers first to the knees of the outrunner-- This is the ender. This is the calamity Then lifts to the back of her head. Her blood boils with a feeling indescribable. Chase your quarry, ancient hunter

The arrow looses, high-speed through the trees and hits with a thunk loud if to disturb the night birds in their roosts. The runner freezes, then crumples into the the thin blanket of snow.

It seems like hours before the others arrive, Niamh's startled scream stifled by Cathal's good hand over her mouth. She fights and tears her mouth, "Astrid! You didn't have to! You didn't have to do that!"

And she was probably right.

Grainne, their mentor, came on long legs barreling down the hill to find Astrid with her bow clutched in her right hand and staring into the distance. On her heels was another boy, who’d gone with Grianne in search of game. Whatever they’d gathered was dropped onto the ground to rush to Cathal’s aide. Niamh was blubbers, inconsolable.  “Kade, help him inside. Quickly. Niamh, get up and start heating water,” Grainne commands, but all the rest faded into silence. Astrid hadn’t moved. She did not weep or scream. All she manages is a dark knit brow-- a confused stare.  “Astrid, listen to me,” Grainne demands, shaking Astrid’s shoulder as though she had been asking after her for several seconds. “Go with the others-- help Cathal. He’ll live, but--”  “I thought it would feel differently,” Astrid murmurs through freezing lips. Ancient blood solidifies in her veins, it doesn’t dull her eyes-- she was born with cold moonlit eyes.  “Was a clean shot, Astrid.” That was supposed to mean that it was necessary that she had not suffered. “Kade and I will take care of it. Go now.” “No, Niamh’s hands aren’t steady. Fix Cathal. Kade, let’s go.” 

A clean shot-- straight through the back of the neck and into the base of the skull. Her arrow barely poked through her throat, her face-- unmarred, was frozen in shock. Kade was quick to wrap the woman up in spare linen after snapping the flight off the arrow. It takes both of them to move her into the ground and; Kade clasps his hands together to give her a final prayer. He’s no priest, but it’s better than nothing. With flushed cheeks and freezing breath, they bury her beneath a great tree. By morning, virgin snow will leave no trace of her.  Five thousand years away, Astrid sits on the edge of her bed twirling the flight of the arrow between her index finger and thumb. Her sides ache with the freshness of the bullet wound on her side. Perhaps it is the impending winter that’s sparked this nostalgia. But she remembers Kade’s delicate fingers and firm words as he passed over the snapped piece.  “Loyalty will always mean us over them.” 

[brickcraftcentral]

🧱 Ready for a brick-tastic adventure that you can BUILD along with? Follow Sarah and Tim's quest for the Lost Bricks of Creation. Tips by Chuck included! 🗺️✨ #BrickCraftCentral #BuildAlong

[traumacodedtransbitch]

Crystal clear with crystal knife

I see light shining in your eyes

The mirror gleams from tip to blade

From whence the good now sure does fade

This all reflects on a moonlit night

When blood runs cold and souls take flight

[mindninjax]

Fleeting Moments, Love Everlasting

Pairing: Bakugo x fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ minors do not interact)

Warnings: Smut, Lactation, Daddy Kink, Breeding, Creampie

Word Count: 2.9K

a/n: Yoooo It’s my first entry for my own self indulgent Domestic Daydream Collab. If you'd like to read more domestic bliss please check out the masterlist with a bunch of amazing pieces. I’m so very happy that you all have signed up and wanted to participate. I literally can’t wait to read all of your pieces! I hope y'all enjoy this soft Daddy Baku. He is in fact, the love of my life and this was so fucking fun to write.

It’s not the throbbing, seemingly never ending ache in your head from lack of sleep that rouses you from precious slumber. Nor is it the surprisingly quiet baby monitor next to your bed displaying your tiny little bundle snoozing peacefully in her crib. It’s the lack of a warm body next to you that makes you rise from bed and head into the nursery.

You tiptoe down the moonlit hallway and into the painted room, little honey bees zipping around in pictures on the wall and the mobile above your daughter’s head twirling lightly. The honeycomb night light plugged in in the corner illuminates the room, hexagonal shadows dancing on the wall.

And there you see the giant lumbering statue that is your husband, standing and gazing intently down into the crib. His brows are furrowed in frustration, his crimson eyes are locked onto her fluttering eyelids and when she babbles a bit in her sleep you can hear him hold his breath. You don’t think he hears you pad up behind him but he grunts when you wrap your arms around his waist and bury your face into the muscles of his back.

“What’s up Papa Bear?” you whisper, squeezing him lightly. He doesn’t turn around to face you when he gruffly whispers a response, but he puts his large hand over yours situated on his abs.

“She made a noise,” he grunts. You smile against his back and place a kiss on his shoulder blade.

“She’s a baby Katsu, she’s gonna make noise,” you say simply.

He doesn’t move, the only things that shifts are his eyes to flit quickly to you as you shuffle underneath his arm and meld into his side. He’s warm like always and smells of his usual smoky scent with a hint of his pine fresh body wash which soothes your headache instantly.

“Sounded like she was gonna cry.” He gestures like he’s going to reach down to put his finger in her chubby fist but then promptly decides not to.

You chuckle again, “And if she does we will hear her on the baby monitor. Until then, you need to rest. You were out on patrol all day today,” Your tone shifts to serious and responsible when you mention him resting.

You know you’re right, he does too. He has to be just as exhausted as you, staying up late because the baby couldn’t get to sleep and still having to go out and protect the world from villains?

When you've moved his arm to wrap it around your waist, his fingers subconsciously fiddle with a stray thread in your short silk gown.

“I’m fine. Just want to make sure I’m here for her,” he mutters, frowning again.

That grabs your immediate attention. You gaze up at him worriedly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

When he doesn’t answer you lift up on the tips of your toes to grab his face and turn it to look at you. You activate your “mom” voice, the voice he joked and said he knows you mean business when you use it.

“Katsuki,” you say, raising an eyebrow and pursing your lips. He looks at you for the first time tonight, crimson eyes boring into yours as he sticks out his bottom lip and pouts—yes, actually pouts—before he grumbles.

“Shitty journalist said Pros never make time for their kids and miss out on big moments in their lives.“ He rolls his eyes as he speaks, trying very hard to act like he thinks it’s silly, but years of marriage let you know it definitely got to him.

“Is that what this is about?” You ask him.

He huffs in frustration, fingers digging into your side now as the anxiety settles deep in his gut. You put your hands on his hips now and attempt to turn his huge body toward you. He takes the hint and turns to stand in front of you.

“Katsu, since she came into the world she’s been your number one priority. You’re not going to be able to be there for every moment and neither am I. That’s just not realistic,” you explain in a gentle voice.

You see his frown deepen, clearly this isn’t what he wanted to hear. You put a finger under his chin, like he does whenever he’s assuring you that the nasty voices in your head aren’t true.

“However, that doesn’t make you a terrible father. I don’t think when she’s 16 she’ll hold the fact that you weren’t in the room when she took her first step, against you. There’s no doubt in my mind that she won’t know that you’ll always be there for her. That you’ll always be there to protect her, and love her, and let her know that she’s the best little girl the world will ever know because she’s the daughter of the best man the world will ever know,” you say smiling up at him.

You see the corners of his mouth twitch and you know he’s letting the “best man the world has ever known” inflate his ego. He still looks bothered though, the vein in his neck is still pulsing against his skin and his fist is clenched at his side.

“What else is bothering you?” you ask softly. “And don’t lie and say it's nothing,” you quickly add when you see him open and close his mouth quickly.

Classic Katsuki, he never answers that quickly when it comes to talking about his feelings. So when he does try to answer quickly, you know it’s him attempting to cover them up.

He struggles for a bit, clearly trying to think of how to word his frustrations before he gives up and spills it in a rush of words.

“What if she doesn’t fucking like me? What if I curse too much? What if she fucking prefers Eijirou over me like everyone else does! That b—“ he pauses, looks down at your daughter and then back up to you and changes the word. “That woman even mentioned it. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if his kid ended up preferring Red Riot over him anyway’.” He quotes.

You can’t help but laugh and he quiets you by slapping a large hand over your mouth and turning quickly to the crib to check and see if your daughter is still sleeping peacefully.

“You’ll wake her dumb ass,” he hisses. He glares when you put your hand over his, tap it twice and playfully waggle your eyebrows.

“Katsu, I didn’t know that article got to you this much,” you reply pulling his hand from your lips. The look on his face makes you a little sad.

That stupid journalist had the nerve to put out the article a few months after you’d given birth. She was a crappy gossip writer who thrived off of riling up heroes and keeping all of their mistakes in the media for people to shame.

You smirk up at your husband in an attempt to cheer him up. “Want me to beat her ass? I'll fuck her up, you know I will,” you say, nudging him in the gut with your elbow. That makes him snort and you know the picture of you and the stupid woman in an all out brawl cheers him up instantly.

“Yeah, you could take her easily. She wouldn’t stand a chance against you,” he says smirking. He wraps his arm around your waist to pull you close to his chest and uses his other hand to grasp the back of your neck tenderly.

You switch to a serious expression then, making sure he’s looking at you and he’s actually hearing what you say next. You hold his cheek, “No one else matters Katsuki. All that matters is you, me, and our baby. Fuck everyone else and their unwanted opinions,” you say. He grins at you and bites his lip, he likes when you talk like this. It’s one—amongst many—reason he married you.

“And as for her not loving you?” you continue, grabbing his arm from around your neck and grasping his hand. You guide his hand into the crib to caress your daughter’s soft chubby cheek. You hear Katsuki gasp and he pulls back hesitantly before you tighten your grip and guide his hand back toward her precious little face.

You release his hand and he moves on his own, brushing his knuckles gently against her cheek. She rustles in her crib, whines a little then smiles a big bright smile, eyes still closed as she leans into her father’s gentle touch.

”Literally impossible because she already adores you,” you finish, smiling up at him. He chokes out a relieved sigh that could be mistaken for a sob. He watches her for a little while, moving to stroke her hair softly and gaze at her with more love in his eyes than you’ve ever witnessed.

“She’s gonna grow up to be the strongest, hottest, bossiest woman the world has ever seen. Just like her fucking mother. She’ll have your bad-assness,” he whispers, turning to look at you now. He bends down to place a chaste kiss on your lips.

You smile against his lips and reach up to run your fingers through his undercut. When he grunts, you deepen the kiss and press your body harder against him. It’s been a while since the two of you had sex, both way too busy with the baby and pro hero work. With his arm wrapped around your waist, and his fingers slowly pawing at the edge of your gown to grasp your ass, the tiredness you felt earlier all but disappears.

Your lips smack against each other in the darkness as you part your lips and welcome his tongue into your mouth. He licks your tongue playfully and you mewl in desperation. He pulls back from you, breath stolen and staring into your lidded eyes. He tries to use his “responsible” voice but you can tell it’s littered with reluctance as he speaks.

“It’s late. You need to rest. Shouldn’t have woken you,” he grunts as his fingers dance up and down your arms.

You smile and bite your lip, running a finger down his exposed chest and stopping right where the tie in his sweatpants sits above a tiny tuft of blonde hair.

“I’m not tired. Maybe you can help me?” you purr. Katsuki chuckles and flashes you a naughty grin. His gums peek from beneath his lips as your hand slips down to rub the bulge growing in his pants. He hisses and scoops you up in his arms to carry you back into the bedroom.

He places you on the bed then crawls over your body to kiss you passionately, a hulking hand fondling your breasts. Your nipples immediately harden, still sensitive from breastfeeding and you whimper as his teeth move down your jaw and brush against the sensitive skin of your neck.

Your back is arched as you grind against his erection and he chuckles, blowing hot breath on your neck and making you shiver.

“You’re needy tonight, aren’t cha?” he teases.

He slips the straps of your gown down your arms and gazes at your darkened raised nipples. The plump flesh feels soft and malleable underneath his grasp and he pushes them together, plunges his face between them and sighs.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he whispers.

He flicks one of your nipples with his tongue and you jolt up and cry out at the teasing little action. He chuckles and repeats the action on the other one before you grit your teeth in frustration.

“Don’t be a goddamn tease,” you say through your teeth and he kisses between your breasts and looks up at you.

“I like it when you get frustrated. Tell me what you want baby,” he grunts in a husky voice. He continues kissing up your chest and licking your neck. He grinds against your inner thigh and you moan when you feel his fat cock rub against you.

“Mmm…p...please…” you pant. Your slick is quickly dampening your panties and the way he bites on the skin right above your clavicle and licks to soothe the pain clouds your mind entirely.

He grins mischievously, palming your tits again and pinching the nipple as you squeeze your eyes shut and moan wildly. Your eyes shoot open when you feel the familiar pressure drop in your chest and beads of cloudy milk form on the tips. Katsuki doesn’t shrink away and your eyes grow wide when he bends down to lick it without hesitation.

You’re a little ashamed at the way you moan long and loud when he pops your nipple into his mouth and sucks with gusto. And fuck is he sexy groaning and grunting as milk drips down his chin and his bobbing Adam’s Apple. You pull at his thick coarse hair as his name drips from your lips and he releases you with a pop.

He stares into your eyes and licks the droplets leftover on his chin before he kisses you again. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anything sexier than your husband licking your breast milk from his lips like an alcoholic who’s tasting rum again in three months.

You’re ready for him. You want him. Now. You unloosen his sweatpants and bite your lip, plunging your hand down his pants and pulling his cock free. You stroke up and down his length slowly, stopping only to swirl the tip of your finger over his leaking tip to coat the rest of his cock in his own precum.

He grunts again loudly and to pay him back for being a teasing little shit earlier you playfully chastise him, “Shhh, you don’t wanna wake the baby, do you Daddy?”

You know you’re fucked as soon as the word leaves your lips. You know what that word does to him, but you don’t care. You desperately want to be ravaged by him tonight and you’re sick of all the teasing.

His eyes ignite, his nostrils flare and he growls like a feral bear before tearing your panties down your legs and tossing them over his shoulder. He doesn’t even get his pants all the way down his legs before he’s rubbing the head of his hard dick on your clit. He slaps it a few times, moaning at the way you yelp with every slap before he pushes into your cunt slowly.

The stretch of his girth still feels absolutely mind blowing, even after giving birth and you can’t help crying out loudly before he slaps a hand over your mouth again.

He shushes you, getting real close to your face and whispering, “Who’s the loud one now?” before he continues plunging into you. You clench around him and you’re not the only one who has to bite their tongue to keep quiet. His fingers dig into your cheeks as he slowly bottoms out and when he does, he releases your mouth.

You’re both panting and you give him a cheeky smile.

“The fuck are you smiling about?” he asks through his teeth as you clench around him again.

“Heh, having a baby didn’t change anything. You still have to concentrate on not immediately coming when you fuck me,” you say, smiling big and raising an eyebrow.

He rolls his eyes and quips, “Fuck you,” before he pulls out and snaps his hips back into you.

There are no words to describe how much you missed being fucked by your Pro-Hero husband. His dick touches all the right places and makes your body shiver in pleasure. He grinds his hips into you, fucking you deep and slow and passionate, but just rough enough to earn you the sweet sound of his balls clapping loudly against your ass.

Wet sloppy squelches set the mood for the passionate love scene between the two of you. You reach up to wrap your arms around his back and pull him close to you. He falls on top of you, never breaking the rhythm. He’s speaking sweetly in your ear, telling you how much he loves you, how beautiful you are, how amazing of a mother you are.

“Fuck I want to fill you up babe. I wanna have another. I want you to give me a son,” he mutters and the idea drives you over the edge.

Your nails dig into his back as he pumps once, twice, three more times before spilling ropes of cum into your womb. He holds you close, biting into your shoulder as you milk him dry, then he thrusts in and out again making sure it all stays embedded in your welcoming womb.

When you both have caught your breath, he pulls out of you and you shiver in his absence. He rolls over and kicks his sweatpants off before pulling the gown all the way down your body and pulling you into his arms. Your body is flush against his, tits squashed against his chest as he pulls the blanket around the two of you and buries his nose into your hair.

You sigh and snuggle into his warmth, and he kisses your forehead. He runs his fingers up and down your spine before he commands you to sleep and closes his eyes to fall into a deep slumber with you.

--

Thanks for reading!