#and you can see him just drifting away into the ether | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

itadorey · 1 year

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

pairing: geto suguru x gn!reader summary: geto doesn't know if you've been looking for him or not, but he does know that he can't look you in the eyes after your last mission together. genre: friends to lovers, angst to fluff, hurt/comfort notes: reader lights a cigarette, doesn't actually smoke it. reader was previously injured on a mission (description of the incident), no actual timeline fit but kind of an au in my head where geto stays at tokyo jujutsu high wc: ~3.2k

Geto pauses when he walks through the entrance to the school grounds, stopping in his tracks when he sees you sitting on the front steps of the dorms.

He's silent as he observes you, one of your legs bent at the knee while the other remains stretched out, your body twisted slightly as one of your elbows rests on the step behind you. Your head is ducked down slightly as you fiddle with something in your hands, and when you toss your head back in what he can only assume is boredom, he sees the cigarette dangling from the corner of your mouth.

Your head perks up when you hear his footsteps approaching, and you give him a lazy smile before straightening up, hunching over slightly before patting the empty space next to you. He does his best to avoid looking at your left arm, hanging limply in a sling because of him.

Because he wasn't strong enough to protect you, he reminds himself.

"Are you just gonna stand there looking constipated or what?" you asks, your smile widening as you take in his pinched expression. He looks uncomfortable, a pained frown on his face as he shifts his weight from one foot to another and looks around.

"Does Yaga know you snuck out of the infirmary?" he asks, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he kicks a stray rock. He ignores the way you giggle at his question, refusing to look at you even though that's the only thing he ever wants to do when you're around.

"I was released. Does he know you snuck out of the school?" you shoot back in response, eyebrow arching as you pat the space next to you once again. "C'mere, Suguru. You're acting weird."

Geto is stiff as he takes a seat next to you, leaving a ridiculous amount of space between the two of you as he brings his knees up to his chest. He tenses even more when you shuffle closer, and he resists the urge to flinch away when you fix him with an unreadable stare.

A faint clicking catches his attention, and he lets his gaze wander down to your hands. His eyebrows furrow when he sees the pink lighter held tightly between your fingers, your thumb playing with the spark wheel absentmindedly.

"Isn't that Shoko's?" he asks, recognizing the lighter as the one that always seemed to be lost. He thinks about the way Shoko always rummages through her bag, her voice tired and exasperated as she constantly asks her friends if they've seen it. His question earns a laugh from you, and you nudge him with your shoulder before replying.

"Yeah, and so is this."

He can't help the way his eyes immediately drift to your mouth, and he stares intently as you purse your lips to wiggle the cigarette in a teasing manner. He gives a half-hearted huff, eyes still burning into you as you raise the lighter to your face.

The lighter sparks to life at the first touch of your thumb, the soft, orange light of the flame dancing across your features as you bring it to the cigarette. You look ethereal, the shadows dancing across your face and highlighting the bridge of your nose, the curve of your lips, and the sly shine in your eyes as you cup it with your injured hand to shield it from the wind.

Geto feels his heart ache with want.

A hum of content leaves your lips when you see the end of the cigarette burning, and you tuck the lighter back into your pocket before turning to face Geto. His eyes are still fixed on you, eyes dropping down to your lips every few seconds before he suddenly leans forward.

You feel your breath stutter slightly at his close proximity, studying the slope of his nose and barely sparing a glimpse at his eyes before he presses even closer and your own eyes flutter shut. A moment of silence passes before you feel the cigarette being pulled out of your mouth, his fingertips brushing against your lips before they pull away.

It's embarrassing to admit that you're waiting for a kiss that never comes, so you awkwardly clear your throat and straighten up as you hear more than see the way Geto crushes the cigarette under his shoe. The same one that he had just pulled from your lips.

(You try to ignore the way you can still feel his touch, instead deciding to focus on the fact that you had just lit the cigarette up).

"Hey! I didn't even take a single drag!" you complain, lips pursed in a pout and eyebrows furrowed as you nudge him with your shoulder once again. There's a soft look in his eyes as he turns his head to look at you, and you find yourself softening slightly before you roll your eyes and lean away. "It took me forever to steal that from Shoko. She never lets those things out of her sight."

"They're bad for you," is all Geto murmurs in response, his foot still absently grinding down on the cigarette. You see the way his eyes flicker down to your arm, all softness in his gaze having been replaced by something akin to guilt. "You got enough problems as is. We don't need you having respiratory issues on top off everything else."

"It was one cigarette, Suguru," you argue, rolling your eyes before waving your arm around. "Besides, this is healed thanks to Shoko. In fact, hold on."

Geto watches as you remove the sling, tossing it behind you as you wave your arm once again.

"Put it back on," he says with a scowl, reaching behind you to grab the sling. The close proximity causes the both of you to freeze, and you stare into his dark eyes before turning away, refusing to have a repeat of the earlier incident. You feel Geto's hand cup your cheek, and your eyes slightly widen as he turns your head back to face him.

He holds your gaze for a few seconds before he lets the sling drop into your lap. Neither one of you backs away, and Geto's eyes drop to your lips when he sees your tongue darts out to wet them. He leans forward slightly, the hesitance in his eyes clearly visible as he stops himself mere inches away from your lips.

That same hesitance is nowhere to be found in you when you surge forward, your lips connecting with Geto's briefly before he jerks away from you. His hand separates from your cheek as you scramble backwards, your hands scraping against the stone of the steps as you try to put as much distance between you and him as possible.

"I-I," you stutter, clamping your mouth shut and shaking your head before stumbling to your feet. Your actions send the sling tumbling to the ground and you do your best to suppress the sob crawling up your throat as you look down at the ground. "I'm sorry."

Geto is still frozen in place, hand hanging limply in the air as he stares at the spot in front of him. There's a conflicted expression on his face as he turns to watch you, mouth parted slightly in surprise and eyes shining with a mix of elation and grief as he lets his hand fall back down to his side.

"I'm going to bed," you say, your voice much more composed than it had been mere seconds ago. You clasp your hands behind your back, nodding your head diplomatically and avoiding Geto's gaze as you turn around. "Good night, Geto."

It's the use of his last name that has Geto scrambling to his feet, so unused to the sound of his family name coming from your lips. (The same lips he's been aching to kiss for more than a year. The same lips he pulled away from no more than a minute ago.)

You do your best to ignore the approaching footsteps, hastily wiping away the stray tears falling from your eyes as you start walking faster. You flinch when you feel Geto's hand close around your wrist, gently tugging you back as his other hand comes to rest on your waist in an attempt to keep you in place.

Your free hand lands on his chest, and you briefly struggle against him before you manage to break away from his hold, stumbling back a few steps and giving him an undecipherable look.

"Don't," he mutters, shaking his head lightly when you give him a puzzled look. "Don't apologize. For kissing me."

"Why?" you ask quietly, your hands clenching as you make a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. "Why, Geto? I don't get it. You give me all these soft looks and tender smiles and give me signals that make me think you like me but whenever I try to take a step forward, you take five steps back."

Geto's heart aches in pain this time, and he breathes in shakily as he watches you blink back your tears desperately. Your shoulders slump as you run a hand through your hair, and your tone sounds defeated when you address him once more.

"If you don't like me, just tell me. But please don't keep making me think you do."

You raise your head to watch him silently, your face deceivingly calm as you nod and finally turn away.

"I couldn't protect you."

His words make you pause, and you turn back to face him with squinted eyed. He can see the way you softly shake your head, silently mouthing his words to yourself before straightening up and squaring your shoulders.

"What?"

"I couldn't protect you," Geto repeats, taking another step toward you. His face softens when you don't move away, and he takes that as an invitation to walk up to you. "This mission with Gojo, when you were trapped I was the first to arrive, but I couldn't help you. Gojo had to step in and save you."

He gets lost in thought as he thinks about the mission, down to the very moment he realized you were missing. One minute you were smiling prettily at him, your hand brushing against his as you shot a teasing remark at Gojo, never once looking away from Geto even as Gojo turned to give you a hurt look. The next, you were gone, Geto's hand unnaturally cold in your absence as Gojo scanned the area around them.

Loud calls of your name had escaped both of their lips as they checked the neighboring rooms, eyebrows pinched together in worry as they heard no response back from you. A minute of silence had passed before they heard a sharp shriek, and they had exchanged panicked looks as your screams rang out.

Gojo's entire body had tensed while Geto's hands started shaking, his breath catching in his throat as he tried to pinpoint where your voice was coming from. He had shot off like a bullet, Gojo hot on his heels as he sprinted through the halls. It was easy for him to track down your voice, and he had burst through the door of a room at the end of a hall to find you suspended in the air, a humanoid hand tightened around your neck as the curse they were hunting held you tightly.

It was hard to ignore the way your left arm hung limply at your side, your elbow twisted at an unnatural angle as it swayed ever so slightly. Your choked gasps filled the air as you fought against the curse, your right hand holding tight onto the curse's arm as you channeled raw cursed energy in order to injure it.

Geto's brief moment of stillness, his eyes darting around as he assessed the best way to deal with the situation, had allowed the curse to dig its nails into your throat, causing weak rivulets of blood to stream from the small cuts it left. That brief moment of hesitation had allowed Gojo to come in, easily separating the curse from you and grabbing you before you fell to the ground.

"Make sure it's dead," Gojo had said, motioning towards the curse with his head. "They need to get to Shoko immediately."

Geto had wasted no time in making sure the curse was dead, his footsteps heavy as he immediately followed after you and Gojo. The last thing he remembered was not being allowed into the infirmary, with Gojo and Yaga holding him back as they told him to let Shoko help you. To let Shoko heal you.

That had been mere hours ago.

In the hours that followed, you had been healed and released from the infirmary, fretted over by Gojo, and searching nonstop for Geto. Geto had instead shouldered past Gojo and Yaga, ignored all their calls and questions, and left the campus as fast as he could, hoping that putting distance between you and him would help divert his thoughts.

It didn't.

All he could think about was the way you looked in the curse's grip, feet dangling and eyes wide and panicked as you did your best to survive. He had flinched when he felt his nails digging into his palms, and he had let out a sigh before running his finger through his hair, ruining his bun in the process.

How could he proudly call himself a jujutsu sorcerer if he hadn't even been able to protect the person he cared about.

"Geto?"

The soft murmur of his name draws him back to the present, to this moment where you're healthy and breathing and alive and standing right in front of him, giving him a concerned look. You hand (the left one, he notes silently) is halfway raised, fingers moving slightly as if to rest on his arm. There's hesitation on your face and Geto watches quietly as you let your arm fell back down to your side instead.

His hand darts out to grab yours before it fully lowers, pulling it up and pressing his hand to yours. His gaze is still lowered, and he presses his hand closer to your urgently, palm to palm and fingers lining up before he decides to intertwine his fingers with yours and pull you close.

A soft gasp escapes your lips as he pulls you into him, hands still intertwined as his other arm comes to wrap around you, pressing your head to his chest as he wonders if you could feel how fast his heart is beating.

"I don't deserve you," he murmurs, nose brushing against your hair as he whispers into your ear.

"Geto, what do y—"

"You should be with someone like Gojo," he says, interrupting your words and refusing to let you go. "Someone strong enough to protect you in the way I couldn't. I'm not even strong enough to protect the person I love."

"Geto," you begin, your voice small and shaky as you use your free hand to push yourself slightly away from him. He's still holding you to his chest, his hand flat and warm against your back while the other is still enclosed around your own. "Did you mean that?"

"What?" he asks dumbly, confusion glinting in his eyes as he looks at you questioningly.

"What you just said," you explain, your fingers digging into his shirt as you look at him imploringly. "You said 'I'm not even strong enough to protect the person I love'. Ge— Suguru, do you love me?"

A breathless chuckle leaves Geto's lips, and you can feel the way his fingers tense against your back as his eyes widen in realization. The use of his name, his first name, makes him feel a little woozy, and he lets his head drop to the curve of your neck when you make no move to pull away.

"I did say that, didn't I?" he asks rhetorically, exhaling deeply and causing a shiver to run down your spine when you feel his warm breath against your skin. The two of you stay wrapped up in each other for a minute, and you only move when you reach up with your free hand to toy with Geto's hair.

"You know," you begin, prompting Geto to raise his head when he hears the teasing tone in your voice. "Gojo's cute and strong and smart and all, but I'm more into the broody, mysterious, devastatingly handsome, deceivingly strong, cares-too-much-for-his-own-good type of guys."

"I'm not broody," Geto shoots back, his lips perked up in a half-smile as he sees the mirth dancing in your eyes.

"Who said I was talking about you?" you ask, your fingers weaving through the silky strands that tumble down his back. Geto chuckles at your words, pulling you back in closely to his chest as he studies you.

"Just a hunch," he whispers, squeezing your hand to get you to look up at him. The two of you stare at each other for what seems like hours, and it isn't until your gaze hardens that his smile falls.

"Suguru," you start, pausing and resting your head in the crook of his neck, much like he had done to you earlier. He finally lets go of your hand, raising it up to join your other around his neck before letting his own settle around your waist. The embrace feels a lot more intimate, minimal space between the two of you as clasp your hands together behind his neck and pull yourself closer to him. "You are strong, y'know? You're a special grade sorcerer for a reason."

Your words are hushed and whispered against his neck, and you can barely feel him shake his head before he goes to speak.

"You saved me," you say, cutting him off before he can even begin to talk down on himself. "You are the one who located me. You led both yourself and Gojo to the room I was in and that's the only reason I didn't get fatally injured. It may sound mean, but I don't think Gojo's could've pinpointed where the sound of my voice was coming from. Besides, I’m not stupid. I could see you looking for an opening to attack. Gojo just happened to step in before you could, without thinking I might add. You would’ve saved me regardless.”

You chuckle softly at your own words before raising your head, coming face to face with Geto's soft expression.

"If I have to hear the person I love talk badly about himself one more time, I might have to kick his ass," you tease, a pretty smile on your lips as you watch the way Geto's eyes widen at your words.

"You can try," Geto whispers back, his eyes narrowing slightly when he sees the way your gaze drifts to his lips. "I'm sure you'll succeed. I can't see him putting up much of a fight against someone as beautiful as you."

"Just shut up and kiss me," you grumble, half-laughing as you look at him with stars in your eyes.

And as you pull him down into a gentle kiss, Geto Suguru finally believes that everything might be okay.

rbs are appreciated <3 ty for reading!!

#geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #getou x reader #geto suguru x reader #jjk x reader #getou suguru x reader #jjk imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagine #geto imagine #getou imagine #suguru x reader #geto suguru imagine #jjk fluff #geto fluff #geto suguru fluff #geto imagines

3K notes · View notes

scribs-dibs · 5 months

Text

Japanese Denim

spoilers for 2.1 (aventurine's real name), gn reader, soft aventurine hours <33

wc; 944

You don't miss the breath that blows over your face, relief lifting the weight off of his chest. It's you. He's safe. He can slumber for just a moment longer.

Sunlight is unfamiliar with the planes of his face. It dances across it; gold tracing the curves of his jaw, running playfully in and out of the dip and curve of his nose, contrasting the shadows of his bottom lip. It highlights his lashes, blonde and long and casting dainty streaks on top of his cheek bones. Aventurine —no, Kakavasha— is beautiful even in sleep. He feels ethereal beside you, blurred along the edges, you are just barely able to believe him to be tangible, with the way the morning clouds part to shine down upon him. But he's real, and the both of you no longer reside in the opalescent bubbles of Penacony. You're home. He’s home.

There's a strand of hair that coils over the dip of his cheek. Slowly, like approaching a stray, your hand moves to tuck it behind his ear.

His eyes flicker open before you're halfway there.

Kakavasha is a light sleeper. There isn't time for long rests, what with danger shadowing his every step, coiling around his lungs in the form of fear, deadly memories taking the form of nightmares every time he dares to drift off. You mourn the loss of his comfortable sleep, an apology hot on the tip of your tongue, searing it the longer it stays tucked behind your lips, but his eyes flutter shut again before you get the chance. The embers disperse.

You don't miss the breath that blows over your face, relief lifting the weight off of his chest. It's you. He's safe. He can slumber for just a moment longer.

You cross the remainder of the distance between you, fingers brushing over the fullness of his cheek. There is magic in his returned affections, his bare palms holding you there against him, honeyed skin nuzzling into you. He kisses the heel of your palm, sweet and simple, like it's the easiest thing in the world.

“...Good morning,” his voice is weighed down by his drowsiness, nearly gravely from disuse. You realize that this is the latest he's slept in months, without the buzz of his phone interrupting what little time he lends himself to the vulnerability of rest. His words slur together, a change to the steady, calculated speech he uses normally— at the poker table, at the IPC Headquarters, at all times. Like this, though, exposed and sleepy, he's a bit more upfront. A bit less guarded.

“...‘S so earlyyyy…”

And a lot more whiny.

You've become acquainted with Kakavasha’s greed by now. It is his twin, his shadow, mimicking his every movement and curling around him like smoke ; all-consuming and burning through his flesh. So you aren't surprised when the beast bares its fangs, arms entangling around your middle and holding. It's fair— the pair of you are accustomed to loss, to the feeling of holding someone for the last time before the feeling of them fades away like a faraway memory, your own hands move down to hold him, too. For a sweet, blissful moment it is just the two of you. Your breathing rises and falls in tandem with his, blonde locks tickling the crook of your neck and greedy, greedy hands shifting at your back to tug you even closer. There is a void in Kakavasha’s chest, one that yearned for so long —an open wound— for someone to hold onto, completely and freely, only to have its wants go unanswered. But you are here now, wrapped up tight in his arms, peacefully. He'll be damned if he lets go now.

You sigh, and it blows past his ear, “Clingy today, huh?”

How could he not be? When the gods spited him, when everyone in sight turned his back on him, you still stood firmly at his side, unrelenting. You are more than he will ever deserve, but selfishly he still holds you.

Kakavasha stretches, cat-like, and you can see an expanse of pale skin when the silk of his nightshirt shifts with the movement. He settles right back against you, your legs entangled thoroughly.

“You're comfortable. It's nowhere near my fault.”

To make a point, Kakavasha pulls you impossibly closer. He even makes a point to huff, as if offended you even asked.

“Right, right,” your hand is absentmindedly twirling the ends of his hair with your pointer finger— you don't remember when it got there, but doing it feels so natural you don't question it for another second.

“Unfortunately, I’ll have to cut this time short. I need to get up—”

“Why?”

He says it so quickly you can see he even surprises himself —eyes wide and mouth agape— but he recovers, clearing his throat:

“What's the rush? We have a day off for once, remember?”

He’s pouting. He tries to hide it under the weight of his glare, but his bottom lip, chapped from a deep slumber, betrays him. Kakavasha does not beg, and you are the last person to ever get him to try, after all he’s been through, but his bright eyes seem to plead with you.

“Right,” you agree, nodding simply, “But one of us needs to make breakfast,” you see it, the way his brows furrow further and he opens his mouth to protest immediately, “No, it cannot wait. I’m hungry.”

At that, he scoffs.

“Fine.”

Kakavasha swings his legs over the plush of your mattress, getting up in one smooth motion. You don’t have time to ponder what he’s doing– his hand latches onto your arm and pulls you up with him. Your face breaks into a smile– he cannot bear to part with you for even a moment.

“If you insist, we’ll do it together.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

rbs w/ comments appreciated !!! ty for reading <33

#aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #—stellaronhvnters.#honkai star rail headcanons #honkai star rail imagines #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr aventurine #aventurine hsr #☆.writing

480 notes · View notes

dngrs-untld-hrshps-unnmbrd · 1 year

Text

We’re In This Together

You’re having a hard time coping with everything that's happening to you and your crew, but your Dream Visitor knows how to make you relax and keep you on the right path. His path, of course. You know about his true form and you’re intrigued by what those tentacles can do for you.

AKA please will an eight foot monster wrap his tentacles around you and lovingly use you as his fleshlight.

***

It’s been a bitch of a day. Your stomach is churning as you recall the manic gleam in Gale’s eye when he spoke about keeping the crown’s power for himself. Wyll wants you to decide whether he should sacrifice himself to save his father’s life. Karlach is going to die and you don’t know what to say to her, because there’s nothing you can say. To top it off, Lae’zel has been kidnapped by that madwoman, Orin.

Everything is too much. You rub a tired hand over your face as you sit before the crackling flames of the campfire. Who decided it was a good idea to put you in charge?

Tomorrow. You’ll fix it all tomorrow, you tell yourself as you crawl into your bedroll, your throat burning with despair. Everything will be clearer after a good night’s sleep, or maybe something will kill you and you won’t have to think about it anymore. That would be nice.

There’s blackness all around you as you drift off to sleep, and then stars prickle into life in the sky. You’re no longer at the camp, but in a dreamy, ethereal location with marble columns and purple twining flowers.

You see a tall elf with long, white hair, a handsome face, and knowing eyes striding toward you. He’s so beautiful that he takes your breath away, but this isn’t his true form. You’ve seen the real one, and he’s a mind flayer.

He stands head and shoulders over you in glinting armour, folds his arms, and gives a heavy sigh. “What a bundle of self pity you are tonight.” But there’s gentleness in his eyes as he says it.

“Shut up, Mr. Perfect. If this is all so easy, switch places with me and you do it.”

“We’re doing this together,” he assures you in that deep, velvety voice.

Are you? You want to trust him, but you’re still unsure of his motives.

He reaches out and takes your hand in his enormous one, and the gesture is so kind and comforting and you need comfort so much right now that you allow it.

Looking deep into your eyes, he says, “I would spare you if I could. You know I’m nothing without you.”

His thumb rubs circles on the centre of your palm and it feels so good. Why does he always know exactly what to say and do to make the tension in your body melt? And other parts of you melt as well.

He knows that, doesn’t he? He knows everything about you because he lives inside your mind.

“Yes, I know,” he says, answering the question that you didn’t ask aloud. “I’m flattered, but I’m nothing thinking about me. I’m thinking about you. I can help you relax,” he offers, the smallest smirk on his lips. “It’s the least I can do for you after all you’re doing for me.”

You’ve seen that smirk before. It’s the same pleased, secretive smile that was on his lips as he boasted that he saved your life. Twice. Then again when you spared his life inside the Astral Prism. He was so proud of himself for convincing you to be on his side, but he is a mind flayer after all. Everything about this species seems to be about domination and power.

“Why have you appeared to me in your elf form?” you ask.

He flicks a sideways look at you, that same self-satisfied smile on his lips. “No reason. I just felt like it.”

“What’s the real reason?”

“You are too clever, little one. You read me as easily as I read you.” He laughs softly and takes a look around at the heavens. When he finally turns back to you, his eyes have darkened. “Because I’m hoping to seduce you, and I believe you’re more attracted to this form.”

His confession sends a hot spark shooting through you. No doubt this is more manipulation. He’s trying to use you, but maybe you can use him right back.

Experimentally, you reach up and cup the nape of his neck. Stroke his strong jaw with your thumb. He’s solid and warm. Very solid. He feels real.

Moving toward you, he whispers, “I am real. Close your eyes.”

He waits to see what you will do--lift your chin to receive his kiss, or tell him that you're not crazy enough to try this with him?

If he wants to touch you, you can think of no better way to relax tonight. Your eyelids drift closed, and a moment later you feel the brush of his lips across yours, soft and questioning.

You open your eyes and you see that he’s wearing not the armour anymore, but robes that reveal his strong shoulders and chest. Heavens, he’s beautiful. The world can go away and leave you alone tonight, because crazy is looking and feeling pretty wonderful right now.

You hook your fingers into the fabric of his robes and pull his mouth down to yours.

He kisses you insistently, and you moan as his tongue flicks your lips.

“That’s right,” he murmurs softly in between kisses. “Just relax, little one. You’re safe here with me.”

You’re in your soft and thin sleeping clothes, and his large hands slide down to your ass, gathering you closer and kneading your flesh as he pulls you tightly against him. Your body molds to his muscles, you breasts pushing against him and your nipples tingling. This feels more real than anything that happens while you’re awake, and you give into it completely, opening your mouth so his tongue can caress yours.

He lifts you up in his arms and lays you down on blankets that have suddenly appeared.

You deserve someone kissing you and holding you like you’re precious.

It’s so hard being strong and steely all the time.

You don’t have to be strong right now.

You can be sweet and soft and surrender to this..

You frown slightly. Are these your own thoughts, or are they his? Some of them feel like his, as if he’s pushing them into your mind and making you believe them, but you don’t want to shove them away. It’s everything you want to hear right now.

Your Dream Guardian pushes your robes up your thighs and drags your underwear down your legs, hunger and possession lighting his eyes. He strokes your inner thighs wonderingly, like he’s never felt anything so soft.

Then he pushes your thighs apart and runs his fingers down your sex. “So pretty. I have been imagining the way you taste. I know that it’s...” He lowers his head and caresses you with his tongue, making you gasp and jump. “Wonderful.”

With a deep, contented sigh, he licks you again. As your breathing picks up, he strokes a finger down your sex, and then pushes it inside of you, all the way to the knuckle. You cry out loudly. Oh, by all the gods in the heavens. Nothing has ever felt so good before.

As he goes on licking and thrusting his fingers into you, you whimper and clench your hands on the blankets.

“This is one thing I like about this form. A tongue,” he murmurs.

“Which form do you prefer?” you gasp.

“Whichever you prefer,” he answers smoothly.

This form. Of course this form. Right? How would you even touch and kiss in his mind flayer form?

But even as you’re enjoying his soft tongue on your clit and his thick fingers pushing inside you, your heart and your core crave something...more.

Finally the words spill from your lips. “I want your true form.”

Your Dream Guardian sits up and looks at you, and for the first time you see worry in his eyes. The desperation of someone who hasn’t known intimacy in a long time. “Please let me stay like this. I worked so hard to make you trust me so I could finally kiss you. I can only persuade you so far that you...I don’t want this to end.”

You reach up and touch his face. “Who says it will end?”

He thinks about this for a moment, his fingers still moving in and out of you. Then he lowers his head and tastes you again, more insistently now. His voice is roughened with desire as he says, “You’re already irresistible. If I transform, I don’t know if I’ll be able to let you go until I’m finished with you. It’s a primal form. Everything I have will want to latch onto you. You have to be sure.”

Everything he has. His tentacles? The mental image you get makes heat pulse through you, and he groans.

“Yes, just like that,” he whispers.

You’re so close to coming. Heat is balling up inside you as he thrusts his fingers in and out of you, hitting that sweet spot over and over. You don’t want this to end either. There’s so much more the two of you could have together. “Please,” you beg him. “I want your true form.”

He sucks thoughtfully on your clit, and this slowly sits up, considering your body. “It seems a waste not to use this form when I know you like it. Let me just…” He pulls off his long robe so his naked body is revealed to you. A breath-taking form. Strong thighs. A muscular stomach. He’s hard and his cock is thick and beautiful.

Wrapping his hand around his cock, he moves so he’s braced over you, and you feel the broad, plush head of him pushing against you, and then sinking into you, inch after inch of his length. He’s right. This is wonderful. His body is entrancing as he slowly starts to fuck you.

With each thrust, you moan louder and louder, your hands clenched on his shoulders.

“Yes. Beautiful. You’re so good to fuck. You take me so well,” he whispers. His voice is hypnotic. The adoring expression on his handsome face is everything you’ve ever craved. Heat swells inside you with every thrust and drag of his cock. It grows and grows until you can’t take it anymore. Your nails dig into his muscular shoulders and you cry out, pulling him closer and deeper into you until you’re left shaking and gasping.

“So you do want me like this,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you as he pulls out of you. “Then let us try the other way.”

You open your eyes to look at him but he covers them with his hand. Suddenly, the air around you shifts. Everywhere you’re touching him suddenly feels bigger.

When he takes his hand away, it’s a purple colour tipped with black claws. Your Dream Guardian is looming over you in his true form, with its tapered skull, luminous eyes, and four long tentacles where a moment ago there was a mouth.

So strange. But not unfamiliar by now. And...alluring. You reach up and stroke your fingers over his smooth, fleshy tentacles. His hands stay braced against the ground, but his tentacles move over you, exploring your breasts, your hips, between your thighs.

He watches you carefully as a tentacle pushes inside you, deeper than his cock. Thicker. It pulsates, making you cry out. Your whole body feels alive.

His cock has grown larger and turned a deeper purple than the rest of him, aggressively thickened, and with bumps along the underside and a slightly tapered head.

You don’t get much chance to look at it before he moves closer, the tapered head slipping easily into you, and thrusts inside you. You feel every bump. The tapered head probing sharply. The stretch of a thickness you’re not used to. He feels so strange, but as you cry out, you hold onto his shoulders with both hands, watching in fascination as the monstrous and strange cock moves in and out of you.

“Yes. This will work. But you need more. I want to give you everything.” His reverberating voice speaks inside your mind.

He pulls out and two of his tentacles snake down to caress your thighs before slowly massaging your sex. Pleasure ripples through you and you close your eyes and relax back. This feels right. This feels even better than his handsome elf form. His tentacles are firm and fleshy and first one of them pushes inside you, and then the other. You reach down and stroke your clit as the thick, slippery tentacles slide and thrust inside you.

He pulls you up and astride him. You put a hand out to steady yourself in his embrace but, faster than a striking snake, his other two tentacles wrap around your body and pin your hands behind your back.

Without pulling his tentacles out, he pulls you firmly and sharply down on his cock. The sensation is overwhelming. You’re not sure if you can take much more.

You feel a victorious growl inside your mind. He’s hungry for you. Greedy for you. “I have wanted you like this ever since we were connected. I am with you everywhere. I hear all your thoughts. I am always inside your head, but your body has fascinated me just as much. Each time your power has grown and evolved, I have craved you more and more. You’ve held yourself apart from me. You wouldn’t let me dominate you, but now you haven’t no choice.”

His clawed fingers dig into your waist, pricking sharply. Your sex clenches at his possessive, dangerous words, and then allows him deeper.

You can do this.

You want this.

A tentacle snakes up and wraps around your throat. You open your mouth to tell him that you don’t want him to stop, but the tentacle pushes past your lips and all the way to the back of your throat.

“I can hear you. I hear every thought you have. You can never hide from me. You’re mine.”

Your mouth waters around his tentacle. You feel saliva stream from the corner of your mouth and down over your breasts. So many wet, squelching, sucking noises fill your ears, along with your muffled moans and the deep rumbling from within his chest.

“You don’t want to think. You want to surrender to me. Have me dominate you completely. Fill you so full until there’s no room for doubt and uncertainty. Until there’s only me. Forever.”

One of the tentacles inside you slowly wriggles free, and he continues to move you up and down on his cock. Almost like a rag doll. You’re helpless in his grip. The tentacle pushes against the tight ring of your ass. That isn’t anything you’ve ever felt before. Your eyes open wide and alarm shoots through you.

The Emperor sends a soothing impulse into you at the same time as his tentacle slips inside you, just a little at first, and then worming deeper. Gentle ripples flow along its length in time with his cock moving in and out of you. By all the gods, that feels so strange, but so good. Your head falls back. Your eyes close. He moves even deeper into your throat. Deeper into your pussy adn ass. He would never hurt you. He only wants to give you pleasure, and he feels so good everywhere that he’s deep inside you.

“So good. So obedient, and all mine. This is what I can do for you. Only me. You love this, don’t you? Feel how good it is to surrender and do exactly what I say. Just a little more and we can be together forever. Just a little more. Just a little more…”

The mind flayer pushes deeper and deeper, stretching your ass, and making your pussy throb. Your core is lighting up with every rough thrust. All the delicious tension is winding your body tighter and together.

“You were made to be fucked like this. You were made for me. Only me. ”

Suddenly, all the tension in your body releases in an overwhelming rush. Your core burns with golden light. You feel his victory and self-satisfaction stabbing through you along with his cock, driving your climax higher and higher. You’re his. He owns this pleasure. He owns you.

Every place he enters you convulses against his cock and tentacles, gripping and squeezing him. His pride and victory turn to urgent pleasure as your body works its magic on him. His thrusts grow sharp and selfish. Needy. Faster. His panting fills your ears and his pleasure fills your mind. He hasn’t let go in so long.

A spasm goes through you as he bursts inside you, and he pulls your body roughly against his and rocks you back and forth in his embrace. You’ve never felt anything like this. You never want to leave him. He lets go of your hands, and you wrap your arms around him.

Slowly, you both open your eyes. He lays down on the ground, taking you with him and withdrawing his tentacles from everywhere but keeping his cock inside you.

With your cheek pillowed against his shoulder, he strokes you lovingly and murmurs, “I need to stay inside you longer. I’m not ready to let you go. Sleep. You may stay here with me as long as you need to rest. Time passes differently here, and when you finally awake, you’ll be deeply rested, your mind will be clear, and you’ll understand everything you have to do for me. For you. For us.”

You close your eyes, your whole body relaxing and feeling deliciously full, and you drift off into dreamless sleep.

***

Thank you so much for reading! I hoped this pleased your horny monster heart. Please leave me a comment/reblog and let me know what you think.

#baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 #the emperor #dream visitor #fanfic #baldur's gate 3 spoilers #i hope you like tentacles #tav you lucky bish #reader x the emperor #reader x dream visitor

1K notes · View notes

azzo0 · 12 days

Text

Dancing in the Rain

Request: It's the middle of the night in late spring, so it's pretty warm out. It starts to rain and (Y/N) drags Bakugo outside to dance in the rain with her. Pairing: Bakugo x f!reader wc: 1.1k

Katsuki's nose was buried deep in his textbook. He unconsciously clicked his pen as he reviewed the study material for a second time. He glanced at the little, black digital clock sitting on the corner of his desk. It was 12:40 am, way past his bedtime, but he was making an exception since final exams for the third year were mere weeks away.

He slumped back in his chair and brought his hands behind his head. He stared at his wall, aglow from the light of his study lamp. A soft patter on the window interrupted the silence of his room. He glanced at it to see streaks of water running down the glass.

Tch. Annoying sound.

He got up and pulled the curtains together in hopes of drowning out that pesky tapping on his window. He put a hand on his lower back. It hurt sitting in the same position for so long. He decided to grab a snack from the kitchen before finally heading to bed.

Much to his delight, the common areas were deserted. Just like him, everyone had holed up in their rooms to study. Everyone wanted to pass their final year. Though he was glad he was the only one here, a part of him was hoping to run into a certain someone.

He walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge, inspecting his options. As always, the fridge was void of anything worth his taste buds. He rolled his eyes at Sero's stash of orange juice bottles and grabbed one.

He leaned by the fridge and took a sip of the juice. He threw his head back and stared at the ceiling, thinking back on his first day at UA. It was a little hard to believe that he and his class would be graduating soon. His therapy sessions and rehab had been working well. He could move his arm to some extent again.

There was, unfortunately, one department where progress was slow. There was a classmate of his, a girl who'd managed to claw her way into his circle during his first year and take hold of his heart-you. The more he pushed you away back, the more you clung onto him, set on befriending him no matter how much he cursed and swore at you to 'stay the fuck away.' He'd given up on shooing you away at some point. He had accepted his fate. He'd actually wait to hear your voice in the classroom every morning.

He stopped denying that he had a big fat crush on you in his second year, but due to the war and its aftermath, he thought it'd be best to wait, and here he was still waiting. Every time he tried to confess, his body ended up betraying him. His throat would close, not permitting him to say a word, his hands sweating excessively, his stomach twisting and churning, and his face flushing. Even his damn eyes. All he could do was stare at you like you were some otherworldly, ethereal creature while grinning like an absolute idiot at your words.

"Fool," he mumbled, tossing the empty bottle into the trash can. A cool breeze licked his skin, making him shudder. He glanced at the door to the backyard to see that it had been left slightly ajar.

'Which one of these idiots left that open?' he thought to himself.

He opened the door fully, frowning at the rain. It hadn't stopped yet. Just as he was about to close the door, he spotted a figure not far away, with their back to him, swaying back and forth slowly. He squinted his eyes and realised that it was you. Through the steady thrum of nature's white noise, your soft humming drifted to his ears, and he stayed put, observing you.

It was no secret that Bakugo Katsuki hated rain. He hated the way it made his toes cold and uncomfortable in his shoes, the way it made his hair plaster to his scalp and the way it made his clothes stick to his skin. But despite hating rain with a burning passion, he found himself walking towards you, knowing damn well how much you loved the rain and that you wouldn't come inside even if he reminded you that you'd get a cold.

"Trying to get sick before finals?" He said, coming to a stop behind you. He watched you turn around, his heart fluttering when your expression lit up.

"Think I'll get a free pass if I end up with a cold?" You joked.

"Nah, Aizawa will drag you out of bed and have you take the exam," Bakugo laughed. "What're ya doin' out here anyways? Let's go inside."

"You know I can't resist sanding in the rain," You grinned. "Dance with me?"

"In the rain? Fuck no."

"Come on, it'll be fun. I'll even sing you a song." You insisted, grabbing his arms. He raised his eyebrows in amusement when you placed one of his hands on your waist and slipped your own hand into his other. You sang one of Kirishima's 'manly' songs, singing terribly off-key on purpose just to make him roll his eyes and smile.

You laughed when you almost tripped over his foot and fell into his chest. He smiled softly, forgetting about the annoying raindrops slapping his back and making his tank top stick to his skin as if you were the very sun that had driven away the rain.

"What were you humming earlier?" He asked, unaware that he'd started rocking side to side along with you.

"I don't know. My grandmother used to hum it all the time, so it stuck to me." You looked up at him, taking note of how close you guys were. You could see drops of water clinging to his hair and making it droop, the goofy smile on his face making your heart race, "Want me to hum it?"

"Yeah," he breathed.

He listened to you hum the song, his movements slowing down with yours. He gently pulled you in closer with his hand on your back so you were standing almost chest to chest.

"It's fun, isn't it?" You asked once you were done humming the song. You held back a smile when colour rose to his cheeks.

His eyes widened when you wrapped your arms around him and rested your head on his chest, swaying back and forth unhurriedly. He wished you could hear the song his heart sang for you and that his heartbeat would spill out his feelings for you to see.

"Well, I'm dancing in the rain with you between my arms," he spoke at last, hugging you back and putting his chin on your head, "so yeah, it's fun."

He felt you nod into him, your grip around him tightening. There was so much he ached to tell you, but for now, he wanted to freeze this moment and live it forever, slow dancing in the rain with you pressed against his chest. It was perfect. Everything else could wait.

#bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo fluff #bakugou fluff #bakugo x you #bakugou x you #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #mha x reader #azzo writes

161 notes · View notes

comatosebunny09 · 11 months

Text

Figure drawing is surprisingly lively today.

A question hangs in the air. Something about relationships sitting on your classmates’ tongues. You’re in and out of the conversation. Tucked between your peers’ laughter and the gentle croon of new age music spilling from the speaker.

Your fingers are smudged from the soft pastels you chose as your medium today. Stained red like the irises boring holes into your head, stripping you down to the marrow.

You’re warm when you feel them on you again. Warm like the ivory glow of sunbeams pouring into the classroom. You can’t focus. Can’t get your vision transferred onto paper. Too hard to concentrate. Your skin prickles with heat. You can’t help glancing up at him to lay your curiosities to rest.

He doesn’t look away. Shameless as he watches you, seated pretty on a stool in the center of the classroom. Porcelain-skinned and lithe. Knees tucked beneath his chin, arms slack, encircling his legs to keep them together and up on the stool—a little modesty for today’s pose.

His expression is unreadable. Maybe a bit contemplative. And you don’t miss the slight cant of his lips and the crinkle of his eyes when he catches you staring just as long. He waggles his silver, groomed brows. Like what you see, they query. The heat blooms tenfold through your chest as your eyes return to your sketchbook. Like a grade-schooler caught eying their crush.

Your throat thickens. You wipe your hands on your jeans, hoping to dispel your nerves. Hoping to distract yourself from the ethereal beauty watching you like a best-kept secret. Like you are the sun he’s never basked in, and he wishes to savor every moment beneath it.

Truthfully, Astarion makes you nervous. Makes your heart pump over time, and your tongue feel all doughy in your mouth. Causes the hairs littered across your body to stand ramrod stiff, and you breathe a little shallower when he guides you into idle conversation. He’ll throw in a quip or two to break up the monotony of the classroom, but his focus always drifts back to you.

You’re not sure why he’s always had this penchant for you. Why he sets your nerves afire like solar flares exploding beneath your skin. You can never deny you enjoy the attention. While everyone else vies for his recognition, you capture his intrigue so effortlessly, garnering the envy of your peers.

Maybe somewhere in a past life, you meant something to him. Maybe he exalted you. Offered you the sweetest supplications. Held you dear in the circle of his arms with his lips pressed cold yet reassuring against your forehead.

You shake your head, banishing the cacophony your thoughts. Silly you. Past lives and all that. When the hell did you become such a romantic?

You take up your pastel stick anew. Figure you’ll get the line work down before class ends. However, it’s proving rather tricky with the subject of your piece staring you down like that.

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #past lovers #soulmate au #astarion drabble #just musing #seriously i’m sorry my writing is all over the place sometimes

805 notes · View notes

theodorenmyth · 2 months

Note

Soft and indulgent Draco to gn!reader pls, with lots of kissing and cuddling. TY 💖💖💖

Enveloped in Love

Pairings ; Draco Malfoy x GN!reader

Summary ; In the serene sanctuary of Malfoy Manor's library, you and Draco find solace in each other's embrace. Distracted from your reading by his presence, you share tender moments filled with soft kisses and heartfelt confessions. Draco's loving words and gentle touch make you feel safe and cherished, and you reciprocate with equal affection. As the afternoon sun sets, casting a warm glow across the room, you both drift off to sleep in each other's arms, wrapped in a cocoon of love and warmth. In this perfect moment, you realize just how deeply you mean to one another and how your love will carry you through any challenges that lie ahead.

A/N ; Enjoy!

Warnings); none

Word count ; 900+

The afternoon sun filtered through the large windows of Malfoy Manor, casting a warm, golden glow across the room. You found yourself in the grand library, surrounded by towering bookshelves and the scent of aged parchment. It was a tranquil setting, perfect for losing yourself in a book or two. But today, your mind wasn't on the pages in front of you.

"Y/N, are you even reading that?" Draco's voice broke through your thoughts, a teasing lilt in his tone.

You looked up to see Draco standing by the window, his platinum blonde hair catching the sunlight, giving him an ethereal glow. He was watching you with a soft smile, his grey eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Well, I was trying to," you replied, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "But someone's distracting me."

Draco chuckled and crossed the room to sit beside you on the plush sofa. He gently took the book from your hands and set it aside. "I can think of better ways to spend our time," he said, leaning in closer.

Your heart fluttered at his proximity, and you felt a warmth spread through your chest. Draco's hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your skin. "I've missed you," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I've missed you too, Dray," you replied, your voice equally soft.

Draco's eyes searched yours for a moment before he leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. It was slow and sweet, filled with unspoken affection. You melted into the kiss, your arms wrapping around his neck as you pulled him closer.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, and Draco rested his forehead against yours. "Let's just stay like this for a while," he suggested, his voice gentle and soothing.

You nodded, your fingers playing with his platinum blonde hair. "I'd like that."

Draco shifted so that he was lying down, pulling you with him until you were nestled against his chest. His arms wrapped around you securely, and you sighed contentedly, feeling safe and loved in his embrace.

"You're so warm," you murmured, nuzzling into his neck.

Draco chuckled softly, his chest vibrating against you. "You're quite the cuddler, aren't you?"

You laughed lightly, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. "Only with you."

He smiled, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back. "I like it when you're close," he admitted, his voice barely audible. "It makes me feel...complete."

You lifted your head to look at him, your heart swelling with affection. "Draco, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me," you said earnestly.

His eyes softened, and he leaned up to kiss you again, this time with more intensity. You responded eagerly, your hands tangling in his hair as you deepened the kiss. His lips were soft and insistent, and you felt a shiver run down your spine.

When you finally broke apart, Draco was breathing heavily, his eyes dark with desire. "Merlin, Y/N, you have no idea what you do to me," he whispered, his voice husky.

You smiled, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks. "I think I have an idea."

Draco grinned and pulled you even closer, his lips trailing down your jawline to your neck. You tilted your head to give him better access, a soft moan escaping your lips as he nibbled and kissed your sensitive skin.

"Draco," you breathed, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

He pulled back slightly to look at you, his eyes filled with love and adoration. "I love you, Y/N," he said softly, his voice filled with emotion.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes. "I love you too, Draco," you replied, your voice trembling with emotion.

Draco's lips found yours again, and this time the kiss was slow and tender, filled with all the love and affection you both felt for each other. You lost yourself in the moment, feeling like nothing else in the world mattered as long as you were in Draco's arms.

Eventually, you both pulled away, your foreheads resting against each other as you caught your breath. Draco's hand came up to cup your cheek again, his thumb brushing away a stray tear.

"You're everything to me, Y/N," he said softly. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

You smiled, your heart swelling with love. "You don't have to worry about that, Draco. I'm not going anywhere."

Draco's eyes shone with gratitude and love as he pulled you into another kiss, his arms tightening around you as if he never wanted to let go. And in that moment, you knew that no matter what happened, you would always have each other. You were home, and you were loved.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of soft kisses and whispered confessions, both of you wrapped up in each other and the warmth of your love. It was a perfect moment, one that you would treasure forever.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm orange glow across the room, you found yourself drifting off to sleep in Draco's arms. He held you close, his fingers running through your hair as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear.

"Sleep well, my love," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You smiled, feeling completely at peace. "Goodnight, Draco," you whispered back, your voice barely audible.

Draco watched you as you fell asleep, his heart filled with love and adoration. He knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, he would always have you by his side. And that was all he needed.

With a contented sigh, Draco closed his eyes, holding you close as he drifted off to sleep, dreaming of a future filled with love and happiness by your side.

179 notes · View notes

azsazz · 10 months

Text

Anywhere

Tamlin x Reader

Summary: Anon Request: Ooooo I’d literally love it so much if you’d write for Tamlin again😩 I feel like I’ve been seeing so much hate for him recently and I really just need more people doing my sweet misunderstood boy some justice :((( honestly anything that just has him being sweet and soft… hurt comfort is always a solid winner.

Warnings: Angst, foreplay.

Word Count: 1,712

Notes: Of course this would turn into something steamy, that's just who I am.

_________________________________________

“Tam?” you call softly, pushing the cracked door to his office open further. The room is dark, moonlight shining through the large windows. You spot him right away, and the warmth of the bond in your chest would tell you that he’s here even if you weren’t able to make out his form, slumped in his chair, elbows resting on knees and head in his hands.

He doesn’t answer but doesn’t turn you away either. Stepping into the room, you make your way towards him. His home is silent, almost eerie with lack of Tamlin practicing his fiddle, without the chatter of the chefs, courtiers, and handmaidens. It’s late, and they’ve all vacated the property. It’s only you and him now, and Tamlin hadn’t sought you out once the sun dipped behind the grassy knolls of the Spring Court.

Your footsteps patter softly against the wooden floors, the only sound in the manor besides your shallow breathing. Your heart kick starts along with your nerves, worry wracking your mind as you move closer and he doesn’t answer or shift. You can see the way his broad back heaves.

Timidly, you reach out your hand, brushing some of his long, blond hair from where it’s falling around his downturned head. Again, Tamlin doesn’t move as you tuck it gently behind his pointed ear.

“Tamlin?” you ask, running your hand down the back of his head. He’s starting to worry you, all silent and brooding like this. Lowering yourself beside him to your knees, you crane your neck to see his face, solemn with worry, usually bright green eyes dark. “Tam, are you okay, honey? What’s going on?”

Your mate doesn’t respond for a long while, and you don’t ask again. He reaches out, taking your hand in his. His fingers are cold, but his cheek is warm when he presses it against his skin, needing to be touched by you.

You stroke your thumb along his smooth skin, and his sigh startles the quiet of the midnight painted room. The moon paints his rosy, sun-kissed cheeks, his skin glowing with it, and for a male born for spring, he surely looks ethereal basked in the night.

His green eyes are piercing as he finally looks up at you, drinking you in. The soft look of concern on your face, knitting your brows together. That look in your eyes, the one that tells him that you will do anything for him, even if it means doing something you may regret. The downturn of your mouth, he can see your teeth nibbling at the inside of your mouth with worry, can feel that niggling down the bond too.

You remind him so much of her sometimes. When you’re reading up in the library in your favorite chair in your favorite spot in the manor, pushed right in front of the windows so you can look out into the garden and at the fountain while you lose yourself in your book. In fleeting moments when he’s playing his instrument and you wander your way into the ballroom, lured by the fantastical sounds drifting throughout the house. The way you fist your skirts and let the music consume you, twirling about the room with your head thrown back, laughing, until eventually you force him from his chair and plant his hands on your hips, the both of you dancing to the music of your bond, the push and pull of loving emotions shared between you.

Or when you strip your pastel dresses away and beckon him into the moonlight pond with your bare body. The silver water slipping against your skin like beads of the Mother’s tears. Only your envious beauty could make her cry. The way he can’t resist himself, eager to have his hands on you.

“I don’t deserve you.”

His admission is a whisper that, if you were outside, would be whisked away on the breath of the wind. But you’re not, and Tamlin damns the silence, for being so weak, so fucking comfortable in your presence that his mouth has unleashed this secret without his permission.

Your heart falters, and he feels it, splintering in his own chest. The burn reverberates in his bones, branding his soul with the flash of sadness you release down the bond before pulling those weaving vines taught so no more of your emotion can slip through the tight knit.

“What do you mean?” You ask, and you hate how your voice shakes. Your hand slackens against Tamlin’s cheek and he tightens his grip on the hand he’s holding as if he’s afraid you may pull away from him.

You’d never pull away from your mate. Instead, you move closer, parting his knees and sliding between them, staring up into those beautiful emerald eyes of his. They remind you so much of the plains that make up his court, the grasses taller than your knees, ones you had to wade through to pull him out of his self-loathing rut after Spring had fallen to shambles, making him see the sun shining again.

Tamlin drops your hand in favor of cradling your face in both of his hands. They’re shaking, as is his voice when he speaks answers. “You’re too good for me, petal, too good for this court. You are so bright, so caring and loving and you deserve so much more than to be trapped here—” His voice breaks a little, and you understand exactly what’s happening. Today is the anniversary of the downfall of Spring. The final day of the High Lady of Night’s plan to ruin everything Tamlin has never wanted but was bestowed by his bloodline. “You can go anywhere, do anything, you’re destined for so much better, so much better than me…”

Tears prick your eyes and you squeeze his wrists, hard. “Stop it right now, Tamlin. Don’t—don’t do this because you think it’s right. Don’t dismiss our love because of the past. You deserve to love and to be loved, to cherish and to live life freely and without dwelling on what happened because some illiterate little female got a taste of power. I will love you until every flower in this court shrivels and until the Mother returns us to the earth. You are mine and I am yours, forever. Is that not what we committed to by accepting this bond?”

“It is,” he hisses painfully, tugging you up. His movements are effortless, lifting you into his lap with an ease that makes your stomach twist. You’d clench your thighs together but Tamlin is spreading them on either side of his thighs so he can pull you as close to his body as he can. Now isn’t really the time to be acting like this, but your body reacts to the slightest thought of your wolfish mate, and with the way his large hands soothe up the sides of your thighs to settle on your waist, he can smell it on you too. “I love you so much that it makes me question everything. How can I head a court when all I want to do is steal you away into the night and force you somewhere no one can find us?” His teeth are sharp at the juncture of your throat and shoulder, making you shiver.

Tamlin couldn’t have admitted something like this long ago, hadn’t wanted to. He thought he might love the human female the way she’d initially loved him, but it was nothing compared to the burning passion he feels for you. The raw and unyielding power that sears his body when you’re near. He would give up this court in an instant if it meant saving you, keeping you for himself. He needs you like his gardens need the rain, the sunlight, the air. All of the best moments in his life don’t even compare to any of those you’ve given him. You are it, from dusk until dawn, from flesh to ash.

“Do it,” you gasp, fingering the hair at the nape of his neck. You tug on it, throwing your head back at his words, the sheer truth of them. You rock your hips against his, feeling his hard length pressing up to meet your cunt. “Take me Tamlin, whisk me away or bend me over this desk and take me right here. It doesn’t matter where we go or who we’re with as long as we’re together.”

“Fuck, petal,” he growls against your skin. He’s leaving marks but you don’t care, neither of you will be leaving your bed for days, not while Tamlin allows himself this freedom. His subordinates will keep the court running, and they know better than to disturb their High Lord. “This is what I’m talking about. The way that you move, that you love…this can’t all be for me.”

“It is,” you whine as he roughly grabs a fistful of your ass. He lifts his lips, grinding into you as your fingers scrabble against the fabric covering his muscular chest. “Gods, Tam. Take me upstairs, please!”

“Thought you wanted me to take you right here,” his breath is hot against your lips. He bites at your lower lip, pulling on it and causing you to gasp. “What happened to that?”

“Anywhere,” you’re all but babbling now. Tamlin’s fingers slide between your thighs, brushing across your panty-covered cunt. “Anywhere, take me anywhere.”

He pulls back and you want to whimper but the fire in his piercing eyes makes it catch in your throat. His lips are swollen, glistening from your kisses and his rough tongue on your skin. The way he’s staring up at you…it’s consuming. You slacked the tight reins on your barriers and are hit with his feelings full force. It almost feels like you’ve been struck, the way you rock back and Tamlin has to catch you, tuck you closer to his chest with those possessive hands you adore so much.

“Let me take you anywhere, then,” he whispers and you nod against his heated skin, forehead pressed to his. “Anywhere, Tamlin,” you agree, brushing your mouth sensually against his, pairing it with a swift roll of your hips that makes you both groan and his hands tighten on your skin. “I will love you everywhere.”

#tamlin x reader #tamlin #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #a court of thorns and roses

525 notes · View notes

catiuskaa · 4 months

Text

charcoal, paint, post-its and tape.

SUMMARY: seeing your boyfriend’s messy art studio, you couldn’t help but want to try and surprise him with a painting of the most gorgeous piece of art you knew: him.

REQUESTED! here by my pookie wookie @4ln-stay8, and honey, this was a beautiful idea! i love writing about art and hyunjin and hyunjin and art (and hyunjin) lol, hope you like! <3

CW: hurt/comfort, mentions of anxiety, reader is really hard on herself as a perfectionist (which sadly i can relate), crying and cursing, lots of fluffy comfort in the end!

WC: 1.6k

[☆🌷🖼️🌷☆]

You hate it.

Your hand feels cramped, your head hurts and you’re close to breaking the paper if you keep on erasing the same lines over and over again.

But it’s hideous.

It’s a sad excuse of an attempt in art and you hate it.

You were tempted to kick the sketchbook away, but knowing that it belonged to your boyfriend, to hyunjin, who could actually do art, made you refrain from doing so, opting to just harshly shove it away from your lap.

It wasn’t fair. You’d seen tutorials. You had practiced beforehand. You went as far as to use his anatomy books to study it, wanting to be able to do justice to his ethereal, beautiful self by at least getting proportions right.

But no. Art wasn’t accepting your preposterous attempt to join into it.

Hyunjin entered your shared apartment as he hummed a random melody, happy to come back a bit earlier than usual, his head drifting off to how he could surprise you and what kind of activity the both of you could do with the newly-founded time.

But he froze after he kicked his shoes off at the entrance.

“Angel?” He called, and you cursed, but barely had any time to put anything back into place as he followed the sound of your gentle sobs.

“Hyun…” you started.

“My love.” He crouched down next to you, looking at you as if you held the stars and the moon just for him. “Want to tell me what’s wrong? Mhh?” He hummed shortly, his hands traveling to your face and stroking it sweetly.

You stared at him, your heart troubled, so the only coherent response you could come up was throwing yourself to his arms.

The long-haired artist hugged you tightly in response, a part of him appreciating having the type of trust that allowed you to break before him and let him watch you reasemble with a little helping hand.

You sniffed, then shook your head sideways.

“Are we doing the nod and shake?” He smiled in efforts of making you join him, which you did shortly, and he allowed himself to take that as a win. “We can do that, pretty. Nod if you want to.” He snickered.

But you shook your head, staring down at the forgotten sketchbook.

“I-it’s just th-a-at I… I w-wanted… wanted to surprise you… b-because I-I wa-s trying to paint…”

Hyunjin’s face shined upon your confesion.

“My pretty girl was painting?” He chimed back with a gleeful joy. “But you’re not having fun. What happened?”

You just shrugged, sinking your head in your hands. “It’s horrible.”

“Can I see it?”

Watching you nod, it was only then when Hyunjin separated himself from you just enough to grab the sketch, then sprung back to your side.

A silence only broken by your unsteady breathing clouded the house as he viewed the canvas.

“Do you want my opinion, my advice, or my shoulder to keep crying?” He offered soothingly, and you rolled your eyes at his last mention. “What? My shoulders are very comfortable. I don’t even charge if you leave tears on my shirt, you know.” Hyunjin teased with a smile that you were quick to match. Another win for him.

“I just… I don’t know…” you sighed, melting against him. “It’s… ugh.”

He stared at your piece in silence, which you didn’t, only zoned out, playing with your hands as the silence crept up your spine.

What if he hated it too?

“It’s just like how you do with your post-its.”

He interrupted your spiral of thoughts, and you blinked at him, so Hyunjin repeated himself with a gentle smile. You then sniffed, a small chuckle fighting to get out in the midst of frustated tears. “What are you on about?”

“You have your cute organizing board filled with post it notes, don’t you, lovely?”

You nodded, but scoffed, still submerged in the depth of the painting —or rather lack thereof. “What’s that got to do with anyth-“

You trailed off when his hands, still a bit colder from the weather outside, cradled your face, forcing you to look at him, a beautiful sight you didn’t notice you were evading.

“Listen to me for a second. Please?” He pleaded, eyes soft, and giggled sweetly when you pouted, a petty way of letting him know you were listening. You blushed when he kissed you.

“So. Your post it notes.” Hyunjin smiled. “You stick them on the board, but often, they slip down, right?” He asked, to which you nodded. “And when that happens, I noticed your little trick, brains.” He booped your nose, and you couldn’t help but smile coyly. “Tell me, beauty. What do you do when they don’t stick?”

“I… I put a small piece of tape on the back.” “And it works like magic,” he grinned, beaming in a kind of proudness you had never seen on anyone, not when it came from others aside from themselves. And it mended your frustrated heart to see him like this, his now warmer hands stroking your cheeks.

He took one of your hands, and with a strained groan, reached to his pencil cade, grabbed a piece of charcoal and stained your hand with it, kissing your palm sweetly

“These are now the hands of an artist. And artists, just like you and me, can be quite like those little post it notes of yours. We bend right after taking us out of the package.” He chuckled, and you followed along, letting the sound of his voice lift your spirit. “It won’t matter how, there can always be a crease, or the glue won’t stick right, or the color is too blinding, maybe too dull, perhaps the paper got stained with paint or ink.” He stared at you, deeply so, allowing you to see through him, allowing you to understand.

This wasn’t about post it notes. Not anymore.

He continued. “But, just as your post its, sometimes…” he smiled. “Sometimes all we need is a bit of tape to stick in place.”

He kissed your tears away one by one, allowing your breathing to even out, matching and following his as you relaxed against him.

“Let me help you stick back on the board.” He looked at your lips in a flash, then bashfully went back to your eyes. “Let me be your tape.”

He hugged you tightly, and he showed you the sketch.

“To me it looks fine, beauty.” He started. “It’s a really nice attempt. Would I redo some things? Probably, if I wanted to be really perfectionist, because it doesn’t look bad at all. Or maybe I’d let the color do its magic.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “The thing about drawing is that we cannot let it control us, hoping to achieve perfection. That can’t be achieved, my love.” Hyunjin laughed. “Even what we see sometimes doesn’t look right in real life. There are references and references, and if a drawing’s sketch isn’t quite what we’re looking, sometimes we may need another one.”

You stared at him softly, comforted in his honest commentary.

“I can help you. You know were to find me.” He smiled sweetly.

“I…” you sniffed, staring at your charcoal-stained hand.

“I just want a coffee right now.”

You both giggled as you stood back up, and he engulfed you in a bear hug, picking you up and carrying you to the kitchen, determined to make you the best coffe in the whole year.

It wasn’t until the next morning that you found him puting your first sketch next to his. Only this time, instead of his usual messy tape lines, yours han bits of tape glued to the back.

Little by little, charcoal and paint helped post-its and tape, but even with the smallest things, it could certainly be the other way around.

And Hyunjin loved it any kind of way— Hyunjin loved you, post-its, charcoal stains and all.

[☆🌷🖼️🌷☆]

catiuskaa, may 2024 ©

~kats, who will now go to bed with my own cup of hot milk (not coffee lol, and sadly not made by hyunjin either)

336 notes · View notes

sirenedeslily · 7 days

Text

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐒𝐍𝐎𝐖 ‎𐦍 𝐦atthew 𝐬turniolo

❛too tired to move, too tired to leave.❜

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 a tormenting and bitter autumn fades into an even colder winter, unrelenting flurries shrouding two lovers in a painful veil of memories and grief. a girl, forever haunted by what was lost and what can only unfold beneath the snow, remains trapped in a ceaseless cycle of naive love and unyielding despair’s. she finds solace in the one soul who saw her, truly saw her and gazed lovingly upon her bare, scarred flesh.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠, heavy themes of grief, loss, and death. extreme violence, graphic description of physical abuse. intense emotional turmoil, including scenes of blood, domestic abuse, and parental neglect. dives into suicidal ideation and mental health struggles. little use of religious imagery, just the worst most tragic angst (i hope)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭, 5k !

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞, well !!! haha !!! lol !!! y’all wanted more of the “poison in the water” universe and i didn’t think the last one hurt enough so :p this is fully inspired by “hard times” by ethel cain aswell as jackieshauna from yellowjackets and also lilies + knuckle velvet by hayden again !!! i love our doomed in every universe lovebirds (,:

snowflakes drift from the sky, like tiny, crystallized secrets falling from a heaven that refuses to speak. they flutter around you, landing softly on your skin, kissing your cheeks like cold lips. you stare up at the grey sky, the winter clouds heavy with a weight they can’t hold, threatening to spill over. the air is biting, but the cold doesn’t bother you much anymore. your breath forms misty plumes that fade into the ether as soon as they appear—transient, like everything else in this world.

you turn your head slightly, and there he is—matt, smiling at you from just an arm’s length away. his face is serene, untouched by the frost gathering on his eyelashes. his eyes, usually half-lidded with that perpetual look of exhaustion, are now clear and focused on you. his lips part slightly, and he exhales a soft laugh, visible in the chilled air, and it almost makes you forget how cold you feel.

you both lie side by side, limbs sprawled like the delicate branches of the bare trees surrounding the both of you, creating a canopy over your makeshift resting place. for a moment, it feels like you’re both floating, suspended between the earth and the sky. you smile back, your lips trembling not from cold, but from something deeper—a desperate desire to hold onto this moment, this vision of matt that’s pure and unbroken.

“isn’t it beautiful?” he says, his voice soft as the snow.

“yes,” you whispers, though you’re not sure if you’re responding to him or the way the world seems to slow around you. your fingers twitch, aching to reach out and touch him, to feel the warmth you know won’t be there.

but then, something shifts. a shadow creeps over your consciousness, like dark water lapping at the edges of your mind. you blink, and suddenly, the snow is not so comforting. it’s biting into your skin, sharp and relentless. your hands are covered in something darker than frost—blood. your breath hitches, your chest seizes. matt’s eyes are closed now, his breathing shallow, and you remember—

it had all started with the letter.

the church was always cold, even in the summer, but that day it felt like ice. you stood at the back pew, your fingers trembling as you slipped the letter between the pages of an old, dog-eared bible. this was your spot, where you and matt would sit during the long sermons, half-listening and half-lost in your own world. you thought he'd come here, find it, and know everything you hadn’t been able to say out loud. you didn’t want to see the pity in his eyes when he read her words, but you needed him to understand.

you never noticed it, but you weren’t alone.

your father, the preacher, had come to the church earlier than usual that morning. maybe it was fate or bad luck, but he saw you. he saw the way your hand lingered on the bible, the way your eyes darted around as if you were afraid of being caught. later, when he found the letter and read the confessions hidden within, he didn’t need to guess whom it was for. rage twisted his features as he clenched the paper, the words like a poison seeping into his mind.

he didn’t confront you just yet. no, he waited. binding his time.

“stay with me,” you murmur, and you’re back in the snow again, your voice small, a thin thread against the wind. you reach out to matt, your fingers grazing his, and for a moment, he feels warm. his smile is still there, but there’s a tiredness to it, a heaviness that mirrors the snow pressing down on you.

“you know i’m not going anywhere,” he says, his voice steady and calm. his hand comes up to brush a stray snowflake from your brow, and his touch is so gentle, so tender, that you almost believe it’s real. “i can’t.”

but then you see it—a flicker in his eyes, a shadow that wasn’t there before. your heart clenches, and suddenly you’re falling again, tumbling back into the dark.

the dock had always been your sanctuary, a place where the rest of the world felt miles away. you both came here to escape, as you always did, wrapped up in each other, sharing whispers and stolen kisses. the lake stretched out like a silent witness to your secrets, its surface a broken mirror reflecting the twilight sky. you nestled into matt’s side, your head resting against his shoulder, feeling his steady breath against your hair. for a moment, it felt like the world was quiet—just the two of you and the water. but your heart was restless. you looked up at him, eyes searching his face as if you might find your future there.

“matt,” you began, your voice barely a whisper. “i’ve been thinking... thinking about leaving.”

his hand, which had been drawing lazy circles on your arm, stilled. “leaving?” he echoed, his voice neutral but his body suddenly tense.

“running away. far from this place,” you continued, your words gaining strength. “we could go somewhere new. somewhere no one knows us. you could write your stories, take it seriously, and icould run a little bookstore. just the two of us.”

you were smiling now, your eyes bright with the fantasy of it. you painted pictures with your words, of the city life and cozy apartments, of mornings spent writing and nights wrapped up in each other. you looked at him, waiting for him to smile back, to share in your vision.

but he didn’t. his face remained still, his eyes distant.

“no,” he muttered, almost too quietly to hear.

your smile faltered, but you pressed on. “we could make it work. i know we could. we just have to take that first step—”

“no,” he said again, louder this time.

you blink, your fantasy shattering like glass around you. “why not? why can’t we—”

“because i can’t just up and leave, yn!” he snapped, pulling away from you. his voice was sharp, tinged with an anger you hadn’t heard before. “i have a life here, a family. i can’t abandon them just because you want to run away from yours.”

your breath hitched, and you felt a burn behind your eyes. “they’d understand, matt. they’d want you to be happy—”

“happy?” he cut in, his voice rising. “you think this is about happiness? you think i can just throw everything away for some half-baked fantasy?”

“it’s not a fantasy!” you cried, your voice breaking. “it’s a chance—a chance for both of us to have something more!”

you were both standing now, facing each other on the dock. the wind whipped around you, and the lake seemed to swell with the tension between the both of you. tears spilled down your cheeks, but you didn’t care. you were desperate, pleading.

“please, matt,” you whispered, your voice raw and broken. “come with me. we can start over. together.”

he shook his head, his expression hardening. “no,” he said, his voice low but firm.

“why not?” you begged, stepping closer, your hands reaching for his. “why can’t you just—”

“because not everyone wants to run away from their problems, yn!” he shouted, his words like a slap. “not everyone wants to leave everything behind because their life is so fucking tragic and pathetic!”

you recoiled as if he’d struck you, your eyes widening in horror. he didn’t stop; the words kept pouring out, ugly and twisted with anger.

“you think i don’t know about your father?” he continued, his voice cold and sharp. “you think i haven’t seen the bruises? the way you flinch whenever someone raises their voice? i know, yn. i’ve always known.”

your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. you stared at him, your chest heaving, feeling like you might shatter into a thousand pieces. he knew. he had known all along.

“just because your life is miserable doesn’t mean you get to drag everyone else down with you,” he spat. “i’m not going to ruin my life because yours is a mess.”

there was a moment—a long, terrible moment—where neither of you spoke. the air between the both of you was thick with pain and anger, the silence louder than any scream. you looked at him, tears streaming down your face, your heart breaking in your chest.

you didn’t say another word. you just turned and walked away, leaving him standing on the dock, the cold wind biting at his skin.

“matty,” you whisper, back in the snow again. you don’t want to remember. you don’t want to see.

“stay with me. please.”

“i’m here,” he replies softly. his voice is steady, but there’s a fragile break beneath the surface, like thin ice over deep, dark water. and you want to stay here, forever, with the boy you love. even if you can’t truly feel him. even if you know you never will.

the snow falls thicker now, a suffocating veil that dims the world. it’s getting harder to see, harder to breathe. you can’t quite tell if his eyes are open or closed, but you know he’s there. you want to reach out, to touch him, to feel something other than the agonizing emptiness, the cold truth settling into your bones. this isn’t yours. it isn’t real. the edges of your vision blur, and the snow closes in like a shroud, heavy and relentless, burying you under its weight.

you want to stay here, in the not knowing, in the almost, but— you blink, and the world shifts again.

you’re back. back to the house that was never a home, back to the cold, accusing stares of your father—the man who looked at you like you were a blight on his very soul. your mind was a haze of pain and betrayal, and you moved like a ghost through the hallways, numb to everything but the weight in your chest. you didn’t notice your father watching you from the shadows, didn’t hear the way his breath quickened with rage as you passed by. you stumbled to your room, shutting the door behind you, and crumpled to the floor, your body wracked with sobs so violent they shook you to your core.

you didn’t know. couldn’t have known. not until he stormed into your room, his face twisted with something beyond rage. he’d been the devil that night. his eyes burned with a fanatic fire, a hatred that seemed born from somewhere far deeper than anger. “dirty, broken angel,” he hissed, his voice trembling with a fury that shook the walls. “do you think you can fool me with those innocent eyes? do you think I don’t see what you are?”

the words were venom, each syllable a lash. you tried to shrink away, tried to disappear into the walls themselves, but he was on you. his hands gripped your shoulders, shaking you so violently your teeth clacked together.

suddenly, the room dissolved, the walls melting away into a harsh, biting white. you were pulled back to that relentless winter, a chill that seeped into your bones, a cold you could never seem to escape. snow fell heavily around you, swirling like ash in a dying fire. matt stood before you, his face drawn and pale against the frozen backdrop. his eyes, usually warm, were unreadable, his expression soft yet distant.

he reached out, his hand gentle as he cupped your cheek, but you couldn’t feel it. his touch, meant to soothe, was nothing but a ghost against your skin. your lips trembled from the cold, a shiver running through you that wasn’t just from the chill. “i love you,” he cooed, his breath misting in the frozen air, words meant to anchor you, but they felt hollow, distant.

he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours, but even then—nothing. his kiss was as cold as the winter wind that cut through you, no warmth, no comfort. your eyes stayed wide, filled with fear and confusion, searching his face for something real, something to hold onto. but his face remained serene, his eyes boring into yours like he was trying to see something buried deep within.

then he whispered, his voice low and intimate, but the words were not his. they were familiar, dripping with venom, heavy with the weight of years past.

“this is your mother’s fault,” he murmured, and the world seemed to tilt, your breath catching in your throat. his voice, his tone, had shifted, morphed, becoming something more sinister. it wasn’t matt anymore; it was your father, the words twisted into something cruel. “your cursed existence is the reason she’s gone. a punishment. a living testament to sin.”

the snow, the cold, it all shattered like fragile glass around you, and you were back—back in your room, the air thick with dread. your father loomed above you, eyes wild and feverish, his face a grotesque mask of hatred and righteous fury. his words were still echoing, each one a branding iron against your skin.

“a punishment. a living testament to sin.” the mantra pounded in your head, searing into your very soul.

you were there again, your cheek stinging from his strike, but the pain was drowned beneath the roar of blood rushing in your ears. you scrambled to your feet, breath ragged and desperate, only to find yourself cornered against the wall. the splintered wood dug into your spine, cold and unyielding, a cruel reminder that there was nowhere left to go.

he loomed over you, his face a grotesque mask of hatred and righteousness. the stench of whiskey on his breath was sickly sweet, mingling with the cold sweat that ran down your face. his hands trembled, but his eyes—they were steady. they were locked onto you with a feverish intensity, the kind that burrowed under your skin and settled in your bones.

“you think you can be saved?” he spat, voice low and venomous, each word a curse. “you think there’s redemption for someone like you?”

his voice dripped with contempt, each word sinking into your skin like a brand. you could feel the weight of his words pressing down on you, crushing your ribs, making it impossible to breathe. and there, pinned between the wall and his hatred, you felt it—the cold realization that nothing you could say or do would ever be enough to erase the stain he saw in you.

you didn’t know what to say. you couldn’t speak; your throat felt like it was closing in on itself. you tried to slide along the wall, to find a way out, but he slammed his hand next to your head, trapping you.

“no,” he continued, his voice rising. “you’re beyond saving. you and that boy, both tainted.”

tears blurred your vision, but you looked up, your eyes red and swollen , yet you could still see the rage in his eyes, the way his lips curled into a snarl. his hand, still clutching the letter, the paper crumpled and torn. trembling with fury. his mouth foaming with scripture twisted into madness.

“please,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “i didn’t—”

“shut up!” he bellowed, his voice echoing off the walls. the letter fluttered to the ground, and his hands grabbed your shoulders, his grip like iron. “you ungrateful little whore,” he spat, shaking you. “you think you can defy me? disgrace me?”

his fist connected with your stomach, driving the air from your lungs. you doubled over, gasping for breath, your body folding in on itself. you felt his hand in your hair, yanking your head up, forcing you to look at him.

“i will not have a daughter who defiles this house,” he said, his voice trembling with a twisted kind of conviction. “you will repent, or you will suffer.”

his words were like ice in your veins, and you knew in that moment that there was no reasoning with him, no escaping the hell he intended to put you through. you had to get out. you had to run. he continued, his words a twisted sermon, each syllable a lash against your soul. you tried to fight back, but he was too strong, his grip like iron. the room blurred around you, and you felt yourself slipping away, drowning in the darkness.

the snow falls heavier now, each flake sharper, the cold seeping deeper into your skin, into your bones. you're back again, lying beside matt on the snow. his face is still there, just inches from yours, but it’s fading, the world around you closing in, shadows creeping in at the edges of your vision. you reach out, your hand trembling, desperate, and touch his cheek. His skin is cold—too cold, lifeless under your fingers.

“matty,” you murmur, your voice fracturing like ice under pressure. “i’m so sorry.”

he doesn’t answer. his eyes are closed now, his chest barely moving. the silence is a vast, hollow thing, swallowing you whole. panic coils in your throat, sharp and jagged, a desperate, choking fear that clutches at your lungs.

“please,” you whisper, your voice a thin, ragged thread unraveling in the cold. “don’t leave me. not you.”

but he’s slipping away, dissolving into the snow like a ghost, like something that was never real to begin with. you try to hold on, to keep him there, but your grip is weak, your fingers numb and useless. the snow piles higher around you, burying you both, burying everything you tried to hold on to, leaving you with nothing but the relentless, empty cold.

and then you’re back there, in the backyard, crumpled on the cold, dead lawn. the grass feels like shards of glass under your bruised skin, the world around you spinning in a dizzying blur. the preacher’s foot slams into your side, and you’re thrown like a ragdoll, your breath torn from your lungs in a choked, desperate cry.

“daddy, please,” you gasp, the words breaking like glass in your throat, sharp and jagged. “i’m your daughter… i’m supposed to be your little girl—”

but he doesn’t hear you. his eyes are vacant, unseeing, lips moving in some silent prayer as if trying to exorcize you like a demon. another kick lands, and you hear the sickening snap of a rib, a sound that splits the night like a gunshot.

matt is pacing his room, the silence unbearable. your face haunts him—the way your eyes widened, pools of betrayal and hurt, the way your lips trembled as you tried to hold yourself together. his words, venomous and cruel, play on repeat in his mind, an echo that builds into a deafening roar. he has to see you, to make it right, to take it all back. he grabs his coat, the cold biting at his skin, and starts toward your house.

when he arrives, the front door hangs slightly ajar, the dim light inside flickering like a dying flame. his heart pounds, a sickening dread coiling in his gut. he steps inside, calling your name, his voice breaking in the stillness, but only silence answers.

then he hears it—a low, broken cry, barely a whisper, from the backyard. he runs, panic surging through him. and there, beneath the skeletal trees, he sees your father dragging your limp, bloodied body. time slows; his breath catches in his throat.

“let her go!” matt’s voice tears through the night, raw with terror and rage.

your father turns, eyes wild and unfocused. “you,” he snarls, his voice thick with malice. “this is all your fault.”

matt doesn’t think—he just charges, fists flying, his body a blur of desperation and fury. he has to get to you, has to save you. they grapple, slipping and sliding in the mud and blood, until somehow, he manages to pull you free. you collapse against him, your body broken, your eyes wide and glazed with terror. he can see the fear in them, the plea. he can’t fail you.

your father isn’t finished. he comes again, a knife gleaming in his hand like a shard of moonlight. matt braces himself, his heart pounding like a war drum. the blade slices through the air, and white-hot pain sears his side. he grits his teeth, using the pain as fuel, and throws himself at your father, knocking him to the ground. they tumble, crashing through the underbrush, the world a chaos of limbs and fury.

“take it out on me instead,” matt shouts, his voice trembling. “if you need to hurt someone, hurt me. i can take it.”

and your father does. the knife comes down again and again, each strike a white-hot burst of agony. you scream, a sound that tears through the night like a wounded animal, but he doesn’t stop. not until matt is a crumpled heap, his face unrecognizable, his breath ragged and uneven.

“Matt,” you whisper, your voice breaking on his name. You’re a few feet away in the snow, struggling to move toward him. his blood is staining the snow around him, and your heart pounds with every agonizing inch you crawl closer.“matt,” you whisper, your voice breaking on his name. you’re there in the snow,

“stay with me,” you plead, your voice cracking, barely more than a breath. “please, stay.”

his eyes flutter open, just for a moment, and there’s something there—something soft and forgiving, something that breaks your heart all over again. his lips part, but no sound comes out. you can see him slipping away, fading into the cold night.

the knife clatters to the ground, a dull, final sound, and your father staggers back, his face a twisted mask of rage and relief. the snow around you is stained with blood, an obscene, violent canvas beneath the indifferent stars.

your body is a symphony of pain, but you force yourself to move, to crawl toward matt. every breath is a struggle, every inch a battle against the screaming agony in your bones. “matthew!” you cry, your voice ragged, desperate. “matt, please!”

the wind howls around you, carrying your cries away into the night. you drag yourself closer, your hands slipping in the blood-slick snow. the world narrows to this moment, to him.

when you finally reach him, you collapse beside him, your hands trembling as you press them against his wounds. you can barely recognize him through the blood and bruises. his breaths are shallow, each one a fragile, fading whisper. your fingers tangle themselves in his blood-matted hair, tears freezing on your cheeks. his blood is warm, soaking through his shirt and into your skin, and you press your hands to his wounds, trying to keep him here, trying to keep him with you.

you press your hands firmly against his wounds, trying to stem the flow of blood, your tears mingling with the crimson on his face. “stay with me, matthew,” you plead, your voice cracking with desperation. “please, don’t go. we can make it through this. just hold on.”

but his eyes are distant, his breaths more erratic, slipping away like sand through your fingers. “my fawn,” he whispers, his voice a ghost of itself. “i’m sorry.. i would’ve loved to run away with you—”

“no, no, no!” you scream, your voice shattering in the cold. “don’t talk like that. you’re not going to die. you can’t. please, just stay with me. i need you. i need you.”

your sobs tear from you, raw and broken, echoing through the empty woods. you hold him tighter, pressing your forehead against his, but his skin is growing colder, his breaths fading until, finally, they stop. the light in his eyes dims to nothing, leaving you alone, utterly alone, in the dark, cold night.

the agony of his death seized you in its jaws, tearing at your insides with a cruelty so profound it almost felt unreal. your screams became the wind, your cries the haunting echo that would reverberate in these woods long after you were gone. blood, warm and dark, seeped into the snow, turning it a shade of sorrow, and the night seemed to grow colder, sharper, like shards of glass piercing your skin.

time twisted around you. seconds stretched into eons. you sank into the snow, cradling matt’s broken body, your hands trembling against his cooling skin. his eyes stared past you, vacant and unfocused, his lips parted in a silent goodbye. you pressed your forehead to his, desperate to breathe him back to life, to share your warmth and will him into staying. but his soul had already slipped away, leaving nothing but this empty vessel that had once held everything you loved.

the world dimmed around you, edges blurring into a haze. somewhere in that numb, drifting fog, you saw him again—not as he was now, but as he had been: smiling, his eyes soft and full of mischief, his hair catching the sunlight just right, as if touched by gold. he was running through a field, hands outstretched, laughter dancing on the breeze like a melody only you could hear. you reached for him, a breathless plea escaping your lips, but he remained out of reach, a ghost haunting the periphery of your fading consciousness.

the snow began to fall heavier, thick flakes descending like feathers, almost gentle, almost kind in their relentless descent. you were so cold. you could feel your own life ebbing away, the blood slipping sluggishly through your veins. the forest around you seemed to shift and sway, a cruel dance of shadows and snow. your limbs grew heavier, the weight of grief and exhaustion pulling you down into the earth. your breaths came shallow, and you could taste the iron on your tongue, the salt of your tears freezing on your lips.

“matt,” you rasped again, his name a prayer, a curse, a lamentation. you were collapsing inward, folding into the pain, the emptiness where he used to be. you pressed your lips to his temple, feeling the chill seep into your bones. “please don’t leave me here alone.”

and then, in your delirium, there was a flicker—a vision, perhaps, or a cruel trick of the mind. you saw him standing before you, whole again, untouched by death’s cruel hand. his eyes met yours, and they were filled with such love, such deep, abiding love. he reached out, his fingers brushing yours, and for a moment, you felt warmth. real, solid, impossible warmth. it seeped into your skin, a desperate gasp of air after drowning.

reality snapped back with a vicious bite, and you were left grasping at nothing. his body was cold and still beneath you, the snow swallowing you both inch by inch. you could feel the blood pooling around you, freezing in the night air, a red halo that bound you together in death.

the cold became everything. it seeped into your veins, slowed your heart to a staggered, final beat. you lay there, cheek pressed to his, your breaths shallow and ragged until they too were gone. the last thing you felt was the brush of his hand in your mind’s eye, the ghost of a touch, pulling you gently into that endless dark.

and then, silence.

the numbness seeped deeper, and you were too tired to resist its pull. the pain tethered you, wrapped you in chains you were too exhausted to break. a thousand whispered thoughts blurred in your mind like snowflakes in a storm, i’m tired of you, forever tied to me. bleeding whenever you want. each word was a throb, a pulse that faded, that grew quieter with every breath you let slip away.

you wanted to move, to leave, to rip yourself from the bone-deep ache of him. but your body betrayed you, too heavy, too hollowed out. the cold kissed your skin, numbed the raw edges of your grief, but the weight of him remained. always him. always this.

your eyelids fluttered, closing against the snow that stung like a thousand tiny needles. darkness edged closer, a heavy curtain drawn around the last flicker of your consciousness. you wanted to slip beneath it, to surrender to that deep, inviting sleep. i just wanna sleep. the words were a prayer now, mouthed against his frozen cheek.

each moment stretched longer, like the last taut thread of a fraying rope. your body trembled, but your spirit was drained, emptied of all fight. you wanted to sleep, to let go of the agony that bound you to him. please, can i sleep, can i sleep? the plea filled the hollow of your chest, a soft, desperate echo.

you were tired of the way his death clung to you, the way his absence seeped into every breath, every beat of your failing heart. you were too tired to cry, too tired to feel the tears that had already frozen on your cheeks.

your breaths came slower, shallower, until there were no more breaths at all—only the silence, the snow, and the darkness that cradled you. the cold was absolute now, and you could no longer tell where you ended and he began.

you were tired, he was all you had left, the only tether in a world that had gone dark. and so you clung to him in those last moments, not out of hope, but out of sheer exhaustion, out of a weariness so deep that it became a final, bitter kind of love.

too tired to move, too tired to leave.

and at last, in that unbearable stillness, you drifted into the long sleep you had begged for, the snow falling over you both like a curtain drawing shut.

the snow descended steadily, indifferent to the agony it buried. it covered you both in a pristine shroud, erasing the violence, the blood, the suffering. alas, the world went on. the woods stood tall and quiet, a witness to the horrors of love, what it would hold onto long after you were nothing but particles and forgotten memories.

in the end, there was only the snow—soft, unfeeling, eternal. it fell and fell, a cold, white blanket that erased the past, the present, and any promise of a future. it covered you and matt, sealing you away from the world that had betrayed you both, keeping you together in a final, frozen embrace.

and there, beneath that silent, bitter veil, you found peace in the way the living never could.

ᨳུ⠀𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ! @carvedtits @et6rnalsun @wovenribbons @flouvela @l34n @sturniolossss @eternaldecisions @lovingregulusblack @cl1tlover3000 @mattslolita @mattssgf @le4hsblog @brvtall @chratts-left-ball @fiowerbeds @fratbrochrisgf

my inbox is always open !!! pls feed it some content ꫶ࣺ᭮᭰ likes, comments & reblogs are highly appreciated. xoxo

#sirenedeslily ✶ ˖ ࣪#matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo angst #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you

92 notes · View notes

fgumi · 21 days

Text

ꕥ brighter than tiffany; — jake drabble, wc: 937, genre: romance, fluff

the house of icons event was in full swing when jake and sunghoon arrived, both looking effortlessly stylish and drawing attention as they wandered through the exhibit. the venue was filled with the soft glow of luxury, and the air buzzed with the quiet hum of conversations and the clinking of glasses. jake, though excited about the event, had a particular thought in the back of his mind—you.

he and sunghoon were admiring a particularly intricate piece of jewelry when the energy in the room subtly shifted. there was a soft murmur spreading through the crowd, like a ripple in still water, and jake turned his head to see what was causing it. his breath caught in his throat when he saw you.

you walked in, every step graceful, every move elegant, and you instantly commanded the room's attention. the way the lights reflected off the jewelry only seemed to enhance your natural beauty. even though he had seen you just the other day, tonight, you were something else entirely—absolutely ethereal. jake’s heart swelled with an overwhelming sense of luck. how did he, of all people, get to be with someone as incredible as you?

he tried to focus on the exhibit in front of him, but his eyes kept drifting back to you. every time you moved, every time you turned your head, he found himself captivated all over again. he was utterly smitten, and it was clear as day.

sunghoon noticed his friend’s distraction and chuckled, leaning in to tease him, “dude, pick your jaw up off the floor. you’re supposed to be looking at the jewelry, not your girlfriend.”

jake blinked, shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts, but the smile on his face gave him away. “can you blame me? she looks... wow.”

sunghoon just laughed, nudging him playfully. “yeah, she does. but you might want to tone it down a bit before everyone catches on.”

jake made a half-hearted attempt to pay attention to the exhibit, but it was no use. across the room, you finally noticed him staring and made brief eye contact. your cheeks flushed slightly, and you quickly looked away, shy under his adoring gaze. jake, on the other hand, looked like he just won the lottery. he couldn’t believe how lucky he was.

as you continued exploring the exhibit, you accidentally bumped into jake near one of the jewelry cases. “oh, sorry,” you said softly, stepping back to create a bit of distance, conscious of the eyes around you.

jake smiled, trying to play it cool. “just waiting for sunghoon to come back,” he said casually, though his eyes betrayed his real reason for standing there—he couldn’t bear to be away from you.

in reality, sunghoon had decided to keep looking through the collection, giving jake an excuse to linger near you. as you both stood by the jewelry case, jake leaned in slightly, his voice low and filled with warmth. “you look so beautiful tonight,” he whispered. “honestly, you’ve completely stolen the show. i can’t stop staring.”

his words were like poetry, and you felt a soft blush bloom on your cheeks. “you’re not too bad yourself,” you replied, your voice light but genuine.

jake’s eyes sparkled with affection as he continued to admire you. the event around you seemed to fade into the background as he whispered more sweet nothings, his focus entirely on you.

as the evening went on, fans who were lucky enough to be at the event began noticing something. while you were clearly engrossed in the jewelry and the beauty of the exhibit, jake was entirely engrossed in you. wherever you went, he wasn’t far behind, his eyes filled with a soft, adoring gaze that didn’t go unnoticed.

soon, photos and short videos of jake trailing after you, looking completely enamored, started circulating online. fans couldn’t get enough of the way he looked at you, like you were the most precious thing in the world.

tweets and posts flooded social media, fans expressing their support and gushing over the couple. “did you see how jake’s eyes never left her? he’s so in love,” one fan wrote. “how gorgeous does she look? no wonder jake couldn’t focus on anything else,” another added.

others joked about how jake had ditched sunghoon to be with you. “poor sunghoon, abandoned by jake because someone prettier came along,” someone teased, adding a string of laughing emojis. others pointed out how you would shy away from jake’s adoring gaze, only to make him look even more giddy. “their chemistry is off the charts,” one fan commented. “you can tell jake completely forgot about the event—he only had eyes for her.”

as the night drew to a close, you found yourself standing on a balcony, taking a moment to enjoy the cool evening air. jake joined you, his hand slipping into yours. “did you have a good time?” he asked softly, his voice carrying that familiar warmth.

you nodded, leaning into him. “i did. but i think you were more focused on me than the event.”

jake grinned, not even trying to deny it. “can you blame me? i couldn’t help it. you were just... breathtaking.”

you smiled, squeezing his hand. “thank you, jake. for everything.”

he turned to face you, his eyes filled with nothing but love. “no, thank you. for being you. for making every day better just by being in it.”

and as you stood there together, under the stars, you knew that no matter where life took you, you’d always have each other. it was moments like these that made everything worth it.

disclaimer: this, in no way, reflects the idol. this is purely fiction. ✧ comments are appreciated! ✧ !nanamlist

#enhypen #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #sim jaeyun #jaeyun x reader #jaeyun fluff #jake x reader #jake sim #!nanawrites

94 notes · View notes

chaiifluuf · 7 months

Text

•°. *࿐ What if all i need is you? — d. osamu

synopsis. after going underground for the time being to leave the port mafia, yours and dazai’s friendship starts to feel like something else

content. gn!reader, spoilers for the dark era/season 2 ep 4, lowercase, comfort, fluff, hcs + one-shot, clingy dazai, lowkey bad writing??

notes. i don’t think i’ve ever been this nervous about posting something ( ; ω ; ), anyways first post and first time attempting to actually write smth so this most likely has grammatical mistakes…

dazai who, after witnessing his best friend’s death, arrived at your doorstep at midnight and without a second thought asked you to run away with him.

dazai who tells you everything that happened and why he is willing to make a change, hoping you will come along with him.

dazai who is deep down desperate for your comfort and touch, your soothing words that somehow always manage to find a way to his heart.

dazai who at one point couldn’t hold it together anymore and spends many nights silently crying into your shoulder, for the first time allowing himself to be vulnerable around you.

dazai who believes he will never be quite enough to deserve your endless amount of care and affection.

dazai who was able to have a full night of near peaceful sleep in a while, all thanks to your warmth and mere presence next to him.

dazai who realises how much you truly matter to him, how he can’t ignore the warm feeling in his chest whenever he sees you, how his body craves for you.

dazai who slowly starts to think that maybe with you he can do this and become the better person who odasaku wished him to be.

the full moon was shining brightly tonight, slightly peeking through the curtains of your shared apartment. the weather is calm, only a soft breeze passing by at times. it’s almost been half a year now since you and dazai went underground and it’s been quiet to say the least. with some help from ango, you were able to find a small temporary apartment in the suburbs, away from the main city.

the first few weeks after agreeing to go with him were rather rough. dazai was uncharacteristically quiet most of the time, his eyes seeming even duller and more distant than usually. it was clear to you how much odasaku’s death had really affected him and you can’t blame him. the best you could do was to tell him it was going to be okay and be there for him in any way needed, a reminder that you’re here to stay.

Another thing you weren’t used to was how clingy he would become.

despite the two of you not being in a relationship, it was almost unreal how touchy you got with each other. Sleeping and basking in each other’s warmth, the lingering touches when the other had to go elsewhere, the small caresses were like a second language for him at this point. and it never made you uncomfortable.

as of now you are finishing watching a film, one that has been sitting in your watchlist for a while now. the ending of it left you a little disappointed but overall it was more than enough to cure your boredom. with a soft sigh, you turn the tv off and place the remote control away.

your gaze drifts down to your chest, a view of familiar brown and soft hair snuggled up to you. he has been practically in the same position for the whole duration you watched the film, a pair of arms securely wrapped around your waist and his head resting against your chest. it's a serene sight.

judging by his steady heartbeat and slow breaths, he seems to be asleep. which is rather rare since the only time he gets actual sleep is late at night if even that. you briefly check your phone and it's barely ten pm. your hand finds itself in his hair, gently brushing through it as you untangle a few knots. it really was beyond your understanding of how soft it is. if you could spend your whole day just caressing his hair you would.

you can’t help but take notice of his features when you brush some of his bangs to the side. he looked absolutely ethereal and it made your heart beat faster without you realising it. you wish he could see himself the way you do. but then again he has said the same thing about you so that’s that. you will never get tired of his peaceful state though, looking as if there is not a single worry on his mind.

more often than you would like to admit, you wonder what you two are. up until running away, you were just close friends with him, friends who got along well. sure there was the typical dazai flirting and petnames here and there but you didn’t think they meant anything further than that. however, overtime you can’t deny the fact you might just have fallen for him.

but now you don’t know. do friends hold each other so intimately? do friends make most of your meals because they know you won’t eat anything else? does a friend look at you so longingly, even if it’s for a split second? and once you ponder about that, you start doubting if he feels the same. what if he doesn’t see you like that? what if he’ll get bored of you eventually? what if—

a small movement from dazai was enough to snap you out of your thoughts. he slightly shifted his position, letting out a faint exhale afterwards.

“‘samu?” you murmur as you stare at him for a little, expecting him to wake up but to your surprise he’s still in his slumber.

there is a certain glint of softness in your eyes before you close them and lightly bury your face into his hair, breathing in the familiar scent of his shampoo. despite your calm breaths, your mind was still running.

“…i love you.” your voice was barely audible. for whatever reason, you felt the need to say it, the very same three words that have plagued your thoughts for a while now. you know he didn’t hear it but at least that’s what made it easier to say. maybe one day you’ll finally let go of all your doubts and fears and confess to him, telling him how much he really means to you.

“you do?”

your heart drops. for a second you wondered if you really heard that or not. there was no way.

“what?” you respond quietly, almost in disbelief. dazai turns his head to get a better look at you as well as move a little closer. his eyes were half open but you can still see the glint of playfulness in them. a faint smirk was on his face. this man… is this supposed to mean that this whole time he was only pretending to be asleep?!

“you love me?” he repeated his question, a bit of teasing evident in his tone. god you wanted to smack that smug smile off his face. perhaps you should have never opened your mouth in the first place.

“ah, i just… i mean…” your words trailed off as your heart started to speed up. suddenly you didn’t know what to say but if he really heard your words earlier then the answer must be obvious. you’re sure you look flustered right now and you can’t even hide it from him since he’s right in front of you.

however, what he did next made your world freeze in time.

without a warning dazai slowly closed the distance and softly touched your lips with his. having you so distracted that you didn’t even notice when he moved his hand to the back your head.

the kiss lasted for about three seconds but it sure felt like an eternity. his lips were much softer than you thought, despite you not having enough time to fully react to the kiss. for a moment you can’t help but question if this was real or another dream you were about to wake up from.

his face still stayed close, his lips slightly parted as his warm breath hit your skin. “i think i love you too y’know..” he mumbled while gently caressing the corner of your jaw. his voice seemed more sincere when he said that.

and just like that all of you anxieties disappeared. you don’t what came over you but what you do know is that you captured his lips with yours once again. only this time you felt the need to go deeper, like you couldn’t get enough of him.

dazai welcomed your initiative warmly, letting out a quiet hum as you kissed him once again. you had no idea kissing someone could feel this good. you swear you can feel him smiling against your lips at some point and it makes your heart skip a beat. your hands wander through his hair, holding him close as your body relaxes.

you guessed all those times he bragged about being a good kisser turned out to be true after all.

when the two of you part to take a moment to breathe, he takes the chance to tease you again. “i’m still waiting for an answer to my question, bella.” he says softly.

yeah, this was definitely real.

thank you so much if you made it this far !<3 literally need to stop rereading this because it gets worse every time i do help

#𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ maeve writes . 🖋️#bungo stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs dazai #bsd x you #bsd x reader #bsd fluff #bsd dazai #dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #dazai osamu fluff #dazai x y/n #dazai x you

359 notes · View notes

navybrat817 · 9 months

Note

“Behave, I wouldn’t want to have to punish you now.” with Nick Fowler please 🥰

Love this! Thank you for submitting a prompt. Went a little dark with this. ❤️

Snow Globe

Pairing: Dark!Nick Fowler x Female Reader

Summary: Nick thinks snow globes are beautiful, just like you.

Word Count: Over 600

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, NONCON/DUBCON, cockwarming, possessive behavior, Nick Fowler (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Set in the same AU as See Through You and Home Video. And a small submission to @thebasementspouses 's Christmas Challenge with Nick and Snow Globe. ❤️ Written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

“Beautiful, isn't it?”

You peeked up at Nick where he sat on the couch and studied his handsome face. He was in a good mood today. Maybe because he got to sleep in a bit and cuddle with you. He didn't even bother getting fully dressed once he got up. Just put on a pair of boxer briefs and insisted on the two of you staying in.

As if you had a say in the matter.

He chuckled when you let out a hum of confusion. “The snow globe, sweetheart,” he smiled, picking it up from the end table beside him. He gave it a small shake to draw your attention to it more. “See? Beautiful.”

You stared into the snow globe, not at all enraptured like when you saw them in stores or homes. A souvenir like that should have enchanted you with the lightly sparkling snowflakes and glitter. The ethereal vision only served to remind you that looks could be deceiving.

Evil can be beautiful.

Nick Fowler was living proof.

“I thought maybe we could start our own collection,” he continued as he set it down and brushed his fingers along the side of your throat with a soft smile. “Doesn't that sound nice?”

You blinked once. Again, you had no say. You could argue with him, sure. But who knew where that would lead? Nowhere good.

And you didn't want to go down the hard path tonight.

“Fuck, your mouth really does look beautiful stretched around my cock,” he breathed, his fingers drifting along your neck again as he rolled his hips up. “Breaks my heart when you try to fight it, but you aren't fighting now, are you?”

You exhaled through your nose, the urge to gag rising. It was only a few minutes ago when you felt the weight of him slide across your tongue, but it felt more like hours with the slight ache in your jaw. The tip of his cock kept hitting the back of your throat and you willed yourself to stay still and focus on breathing.

At least he was kind enough to give you a pillow for your knees.

“Of course, you aren't. Because as much as you fight it, you love it when I fill you up,” he smirked as you shivered, a darkness settling over your heart. He made you feel good physically every time he took you, but you couldn't let pleasure wear you down. Could you? “And I really do love filling your holes.”

You almost wished he'd stop talking. If he did, you could allow yourself to drift away. You wouldn't disappear into a daze completely, but you could retreat into yourself for a short time and deny that you belonged to him. Which was precisely why he kept speaking.

Nick wouldn't allow you to leave him, even if it was just in your mind.

And with his cock in your mouth, he wouldn't allow you to talk back.

“It’s okay to like being mine, sweetheart,” he whispered.

But why should you like it?

He let out a sharp hiss when your teeth grazed him harder than he liked and gripped the back of your head in a warning. “Behave,” he said in a low voice. “I wouldn't want to have to punish you now.”

He kept you on his cock when you tried to let up, not allowing you any reprieve. Tears formed in the corners of your eyes as you met the burning azure of his gaze, his eyes so dark they were almost black in the dim light. It was like looking into your own twisted snow globe.

You were trapped.

Forever.

I love him. I can't help myself. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Nick Fowler Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

257 notes · View notes

riaki · 9 months

Text

a spritz of peppermint | megumi fushiguro x reader

pt.6 of christmas event! cw: petnames i think idk, not proofread, there’s probably other stuff i’m missing but wtv happy birthday the prettiest king pls come back the food is cold

today is a very special day.

megumi notices that you rise early— mostly because when he wakes up in the morning, rubbing his sleep-heavy eyes groggily with a groan, he notices you’re not there. he rolls over, and smacks his face into cold sheets, devoid of your heat.

it pisses him off. so he starts his special day out as a grouch.

when he eventually crawls out of bed and makes his way into the kitchen after pulling on some sweats, though— he stops just short of the threshold to that sweet smelling cozy haven you love to spend your time in. the scent of pine needles and fresh chocolate orange wafts across the space, warm and welcoming and awfully wintery. he’s impartial to the cold— but he likes seeing your nose get red, so he guesses that’s one point positive.

“megumi?” your soft voice drifts across the open space, and the frost around his grumpy heart melts just a little; a crack in the frozen surface of the lake.

he reluctantly emerges from the shadow of the hallway, past the bundle of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling. the thought causes a memory to flash across his mind— your sweet smile and your prettier laugh; a distinct feeling of fuzzy warmth like a knitted sweater spreading across his cheeks when you pulled him close by the sleeve of his shirt and leaned in—

he shakes his head, trying to dash the stray thought. he’s supposed to be mad. it has no right to be there.

“why’d you get up so early?” he sighs heavily as he joins you at your side, scratching the back of his neck and running a hand through his unruly hair. you smiled sheepishly, turning to face him and you wrap your arms around his middle, squeezing lightly as a silent apology. he takes it with a grumble, snaking his arms around your waist and resting his face in your hair to bask in the scent of home before pulling away.

“it’s a secret.” you grinned, and he glares down at you, clicking his teeth in annoyance. you just laugh like the angel you are, leaving no room for guilt. you’re wearing one of his sweaters; you smell like him, and he supposes it makes up for the way you ditched him this morning.

“i expect compensation.” he grumbles, leaning against the counter as he watches you move about the kitchen, pale winter sunlight painting you like an ethereal dancer beneath the surface of misty lake water, crystal clear in your beauty. it’s mesmerizing.

you laughed, and his teeth dig into his bottom lip. “what, missed me? were you feeling lonely, gumi?” you smiled.

he just shoots you a piercing glare, the color of icicles in his eyes, but the warmth of your grin melts it away. you spend the next few moments in a comfortable silence, preparing a french toast topped with sweet berries and powdered sugar that looks so soft megumi could probably sink into it, until your lovely voice breaks the crisp morning silence.

“want black coffee?”

…

that’s weird. he never hesitates. and you know he takes his coffee black; of course you do. not because he wants to look cool, or look suave in another person’s eyes… well, except for you, of course. but not in the area of caffeine doses. and to be perfectly clear, all he needs is a dose of you to get him going.

he clears his throat. “can you make me hot chocolate?”

you pause, and he almost wants to bite his tongue off. why is he so embarrassed? but you just chuckle, like morning bird song across fresh dew on the grass.

“switching it up, huh? that’s cute.” you hum, and his face burns hot like embers in a brick fireplace. he coughs, throat scratchy like the pricks of a pinecone— but you make no note of it, simply going about your day.

he’s content to watch as you fish around in the rum-colored cabinets, pulling out a crinkly bag of cocoa powder. you put him on milk microwaving duty and he busies himself, lithe pale fingers unscrewing the carton of milk and pouring it into his favorite little painted dog mug. you were the one who’d made it; that silly little ceramics class you insisted on taking clearly didn’t help you too much in the way of smoothing down the bumps and blotches on the mug, but it holds your fingerprint, so he might as well memorize the shape of your hands when you’re not there.

megumi’s snapped back to reality when you grab a candy cane from the mini tree you decorated together sitting on the kitchen counter, smashing it up in the wrappings to mix the pepperminty dust with the cocoa powder. he eyes the pile of holiday drug warily as he brings the steaming mug over, placing it before you and leaning against the counter again to watch you work your mystery magic.

“that looks like brown cocai—”

“shh, megumi. keep your pretty mouth shut, please.”

he’s about to butt in again, lips parted before he presses them together irritatedly and resigns to sulk in silence.

you pour the hot chocolate mix into the milk, swishing it together as it forms a pretty spiral of cocoa; the color of dark chai and chocolate tart. he’s content to watch in silence, humming some christmas carol he’d overheard you listening to one gray afternoon— until he realizes you’re opening a bag of those sickeningly sweet and fluffy marshmallows he’d bought you on a whim. he only did it because his mentor told him they made the best gifts, but he’s beginning to realize it was the sweet tooth talking.

“hey— wait… are you going to put those in there, pretty?” he asks, putting a gentle hand on your wrist to stop you from vigorously emptying the bag into his poor victimized hot chocolate mug.

you glance up at him and flash a toothy grin, giving him one of those looks that makes his heart skip a beat. “trust me, gumi! you’re gonna love it.” you laughed, shrugging his hand off, and his lips curve downward. less because of the marshmallows that are toppling into his mug with a splash and more so because you freed yourself from his grasp.

obviously, you notice— your eyebrows knit together, a pinch of guilt weighing upon them like the snow on the streets outside. but it’s wiped away as quickly as it comes; before he knows it, you’re walking away with a bounce in your step, disappearing behind the counter before re-emerging with something behind your back.

“don’t look so sad, gumi. here,” you say, the cadence of your voice as soft and playful as he ever remembers it being when you pull a bunch of roses from behind your back. the bouquet is small and there’s dirt clinging to the stems— but his heart melts at the thought that you hand-picked them, prickly thorns and all, for him. “happy birthday,” you whispered, and his walls break.

“you’re not so different from them, you know.” you hummed, smiling as he takes them from you and gives you an inquisitive, quiet look. “you might be a little prickly on the outside, but you’re just as beautiful. you just have to look a little past the thorns.”

he feels his face flush; at this point, it’s probably as red as the stray candy cane shavings melting in his mug and the vibrant petals of the roses. he splutters and mumbles something annoyed under his breath, but he’s sure you can hear the undercurrent of fondness and affection weaves into each syllable like the beats of his heart, where you’re so close to. megumi thinks you might’ve just cut him open and made a home in his ribcage.

the bunch of handpicked roses for his special day sit on the marble counter dusted with cocoa powder and candy cane shavings, marshmallows bobbing at the surface of his hot chocolate like apples in a bucket as he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you in to press his lips insistently to yours, slow and tender like the way he always loves you. his hands curl around your sides, as if to ground you there; freeze the time in this bubble of warmth, forgetting the chill outside to warm his hands on your skin. you’re so little in his arms; he wants to hold you and never let you go, to keep you under his tree and have you make hot chocolate for him instead of black coffee every morning he wakes up, because it’s fine if you’re not there in bed— as long as you’re waiting for him with open arms elsewhere.

and when he kisses you, he realizes he might not need his hot cocoa to warm his stomach— your lips are as soft and pillowy sweet as the marshmallows melting in his mug, filled with steaming hot cocoa and all the love he could ever wrap his heart in this cozy winter; his christmas gift to you.

he’s grateful today is a special day, if only because of you and his sweet little painted dog mug filled with your heartwarming love.

stop this was so close to being late my (riaki) stuff. don’t repost and/or plagiarize !

320 notes · View notes

doumadono · 9 months

Text

Warnings: violence, viking!Dabi, viking!Shoto, earl!Endeavor, viking!Hawks, viking!Natsuo, fem!reader, viking themes, viking!Bakugo, viking!Kirishima, viking!Aizawa, viking!All Might, blood and injuries, gore, implied smut (non-con), Shoto is a massive jerk

Summary: impatience simmers within you as Touya's trip lingers. Upon the troops' return, the horrifying news unfolds — the prince has fallen in battle. Grieving, you brace for no further blows, only for Shoto to remind you to always expect the unexpected

Word count: circa 11.3k

A/N: if you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series, please let me know ♥

KVITRAVN - MHA VIKING AU • MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST

PREVIOUS CHAPTER • NEXT CHAPTER

ACT V - NEW BEGINNINGS

The biting cold pierced through Touya's sleep, and the distant echoes of an unfamiliar sound drew him out of the warmth of his furs. Shifting quietly, he glanced over to see his younger brother, Shoto, still deep in slumber. The tent flaps rustled lightly with the night breeze, and Touya reached for his dagger, his breath visible in the frosty air.

Carefully, he wrapped himself in a thick fur, its warmth a shield against the harsh northern chill. As he stepped outside, the moon cast an ethereal glow on the snow-covered landscape. The world seemed frozen, a silent expanse of white.

The muffled sounds persisted, guiding Touya through the darkness. He noticed the sleeping figures of their fellow warriors, their breath creating small clouds in the frigid night air. Only Hawks sat near the dwindling fire, his attention fixed on the rhythmic motions of polishing his axe.

"Prince Touya," Hawks greeted without looking up, his voice low yet carrying an air of confidence.

"Hawks," Touya acknowledged, his eyes scanning the surroundings. "Did you hear that noise? Something's not right."

Hawks paused, setting the axe aside, and finally looked at Touya. The firelight flickered, casting shadows on his sharp features. "I heard nothing out of the ordinary. Perhaps it's just the wind playing tricks on your mind, my lord.”

Touya tightened his grip on the dagger, his instincts telling him otherwise. "No, it was different. Like footsteps or the creaking of snow under pressure."

Hawks raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Your senses are sharp, Touya. But I assure you, all is calm."

As if on cue, the wind howled, carrying with it an eerie stillness. Touya remained unconvinced, his gaze fixated on the vast wilderness surrounding them. "I'll take a quick look around. Better safe than sorry."

Hawks nodded, resuming his task. "Do what you must, my lord. But don't let your imagination run wild. These lands can play tricks on the mind."

Touya acknowledged the advice, leaving Hawks by the fading fire. Each step through the snow amplified the hushed night. The cold bit at his exposed skin, but determination fueled his movement.

In the quiet expanse, Touya's senses heightened. The darkness revealed no secrets, and the mysterious sounds remained elusive. Yet, as he patrolled the perimeter, a lingering unease settled within him.

Touya's boots crunched softly on the snow-covered ground as he wandered back to the camp. The cold air stung his face, but it was a welcome distraction from the thoughts that had been haunting him. The familiar sight of the camp brought a mix of comfort and yearning.

He found a large rock, partially buried under the pristine snow, and with a heavy sigh, he brushed off enough snow to make a seat. Settling down, he gazed at the camp bathed in moonlight. The tents stood stoically, and the dying embers of the fire flickered in the crisp night air.

Yet, despite the serene surroundings, Touya's mind betrayed him. It drifted away from the snow-covered landscape, back to you. Your laughter echoed in his ears, and the memory of the warmth of your body against his lingered like a sweet torment.

He closed his eyes for a moment, a deep breath escaping him. The image of you, the one he cherished above all else, filled his thoughts. The way your eyes sparkled, the sound of your voice, and the gentle touch of your hand were etched in his mind. In the midst of the harsh Viking world, you were his sanctuary. "I miss you," he whispered to the quiet night, as if the wind might carry his words to you. "These missions, the cold, the battles — they all feel so empty without you by my side, sweet Y/N."

His fingers absentmindedly traced patterns in the snow as he lost himself in the memories. The way you teased him, the shared glances that spoke volumes, and the moments of quiet understanding between you two. The world outside may have been harsh, but in your company, Touya found a refuge — a haven of warmth and love he never knew before.

He longed for the day when he could return to you, to feel the comfort of your embrace and to hear your laughter once more. The countdown to being reunited seemed to stretch on endlessly, each day a reminder of the miles that separated them.

With a heavy heart, Touya opened his eyes, refocusing on the camp before him.

The moonlit night cast an eerie glow on the snow-covered ground as Touya's eyes narrowed, catching a hint of movement to the right of the camp. Dark, crooked silhouettes emerged from the shadows of nearby bushes, and instinctively, Touya tightened his grip on the dagger, rising from his snowy seat.

Silent as the wind, he moved towards the camp, his senses heightened. As he drew closer, the outlines became clear — a pack of wolves, their eyes gleaming with hunger, led by a massive, black alpha. Time was of the essence, and Touya knew he had to act swiftly. "Wolves!" he shouted, the urgency in his voice cutting through the night.

The camp stirred, warriors scrambling to their feet, roused by Touya's warning.

Hawks grabbed his axe and joined Touya at the forefront.

The alpha wolf, towering over its pack, snarled, signaling the onslaught about to unfold.

The first wolf lunged at Touya, its fangs bared, but he sidestepped with a dancer's grace, bringing down his dagger with deadly precision. The clash of steel against fur echoed in the cold night air as the skirmish erupted.

Hawks, his axe a lethal extension of his will, swung with calculated brutality. His strikes were a dance of death, each swing met with the desperate howls of wolves. His movements were fluid, a deadly display of skill honed through countless battles.

Touya, too, fought with a controlled ferocity, his dagger slicing through the air. Wolves leaped, jaws snapping, but he evaded and struck with lethal accuracy. The snow around them stained with crimson as the battle waged on.

Meanwhile, Hawks battled the remaining wolves, his axe a whirlwind of death. The warriors from the camp rallied beside them, forming a united front against the relentless onslaught. The air was filled with the clash of weapons, the snarls of wolves, and the shouts of warriors determined to defend their camp.

The aftermath of the vicious wolf attack left a somber scene, with fallen warriors scattered across the snow-covered ground. The hungry wolves, driven by primal instincts, had bitten through armor and flesh, leaving no room for mercy.

As Touya fought to defend the camp, the harsh reality of the night unfolded before him.

In the chaos, Touya's keen eyes caught the movement of one particularly aggressive wolf, its maw stained with the blood of fallen warriors. With a sinking feeling, he realized it was making its way towards his tent, where Shoto likely still slept, blissfully unaware of the impending danger.

Touya's conflicted emotions churned within him. The familial bond he shared with Shoto clashed with the tumultuous history of rivalry and strife. Yet, beneath the layers of resentment, a protective instinct emerged.

Ignoring the exhaustion and the wounds that marked his body, Touya lunged towards the black alpha, the very embodiment of the danger. With a swift, determined motion, he plunged his dagger into the left eye of the alpha, a howl of pain reverberating through the night.

The wounded alpha, blinded and enraged, howled in fury. Seizing the opportunity, Touya sprinted towards his tent, his heart pounding with urgency. The shadows danced around him as he raced against time, driven by a brotherly love that transcended the bitterness of their past. Touya's heart pounded in his chest as he sprinted towards the tents, a surge of panic coursing through his veins. The distant cries of victory were abruptly drowned out by the guttural growl emanating from within the camp. His steps quickened, the urgency of the situation etched across his face.

Upon reaching the tent, he was met with a chilling sight. One of the wolves had managed to get into the tent where Shoto lay peacefully asleep. The growl rumbled from deep within its throat, a menacing prelude to the imminent attack. The wolf's predatory gaze locked onto Shoto, who remained blissfully unaware of the impending danger.

The growls of the approaching wolves tore through the tranquility of the night, reaching Shoto's ears finally as he lay within the confines of the tent. The cold air seemed to carry a sinister undertone, and with a start, Shoto's eyes snapped open. His breath caught in his throat as he realized the danger that lurked just next to him.

Turning his head slowly, Shoto's eyes widened as he beheld the massive silhouette of the wolf. Its fur blended with the shadows, and the gleam in its eyes spoke of a hunger that sent a shiver down Shoto's spine. Young prince knew that a single misstep, a solitary muscle twitch, could trigger an attack.

Touya, sensing the imminent threat, moved with a predator's grace. Silently, he approached the wolf from behind, his dagger gleaming in the moonlight.

Shoto's heart pounded in his chest as he watched his elder brother with the corner of his eye, a mixture of fear and hope swirling within him.

As Touya lunged forward, time seemed to slow. The blade flashed in the cold night air, and with one swift and precise motion, he slit the wolf's throat. The wolf’s growls turned to gurgles, and its once fierce eyes now reflected the glint of death.

Shoto, still frozen in place, watched as Touya's decisive action saved him from the impending danger. The wolf collapsed, its lifeblood staining the furs of the tent beneath it. The camp, now bathed in an uneasy silence, bore witness to the aftermath of the fierce struggle.

Touya, standing over the fallen wolf, cast a quick glance back at Shoto. “You okay?”

“Yeah…” Shoto exhaled, unaware that he had been holding his breath, and nodded in gratitude.

Touya nodded in response to Shoto, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken bond between them. As Shoto hastily donned his fur and reached for his axe, the brothers emerged from the tent, greeted by the cold reality of the aftermath. The once serene camp now bore the scars of the recent struggle, marked by the fallen bodies of both wolves and warriors.

Surveying the scene, Touya's gaze fell on the fallen warriors, a somber recognition of the price paid in the night's skirmish. The brothers shared a moment of silent mourning for their fallen comrades before turning their attention to the survivors.

Hawks, with his axe still in hand, approached the duo. His eyes, however, were fixed on Shoto, completely disregarding Touya and the fresh wounds that adorned his forearms and shoulders. There was an air of concern in Hawks' voice as he addressed Shoto, "You okay, my lord?"

Shoto, though visibly shaken by the recent events, nodded in response. "I'm fine," he replied tersely, his gaze flickering briefly toward Touya.

Touya, despite the wounds that adorned his frame, remained stoic. The chill of the night seemed to seep through the fabric of his torn furs.

Hawks, seemingly ignoring Touya's injuries, continued to address Shoto. "Good. We need everyone on their feet. The night is unforgiving, and we can't afford to let our guard down."

Touya stated, "We need to find and kill the alpha. It couldn't have gone far. Until we bring it down, we won't be able to rest. The alpha might return with other wolves, and we can't afford to let that happen."

Shoto exchanged a glance with Hawks.

Hawks, always decisive in his actions, nodded in agreement. "Touya's right. We can't let that beast roam free. It's a threat to the camp and to our people. Let's go after it, end this, and secure the safety of our kin."

“Hans,” Touya turned to one of the warriors. "Collect the fallen comrades and do your utmost to attend to the wounded before our return," the leader instructed.

The elder man acknowledged with a solemn nod, a silent commitment to carry out the directive in the face of adversity.

The trio, bound by a common purpose, set out into the frigid night once more. The snow beneath their boots muffled their footsteps as they followed the trail left by the retreating alpha. The air was thick with tension, the awareness of the lurking danger guiding their every move.

Touya, with his senses sharp and focused, led the way.

Shoto and Hawks followed, their axes at the ready, prepared for whatever awaited them in the dark expanse of the Viking wilderness.

The trio moved cautiously through the dense thicket, their senses attuned to every rustle and snap of twigs beneath their boots. In the distance, a quiet guttural growl reverberated through the still night air, signaling their proximity to the wounded alpha. The sound set an eerie tone, foreshadowing the impending confrontation.

As they pushed through the bushes, the landscape opened up into a small meadow blanketed with thick snow. Moonlight bathed the clearing, casting an ethereal glow upon the pristine white canvas. In the center, the massive, black alpha wolf limped away, leaving crimson trails in the snow.

The alpha, sensing the pursuit, paused and turned to face the approaching threat. Its fur, once sleek and powerful, now clung to its scarred and mangled frame. The air became charged with tension as the alpha bared its fangs, a silent declaration of defiance.

Touya, undeterred by the formidable presence before him, stepped forward. His dagger gleamed in the moonlight as he closed the distance between them. T

The alpha, fixated on the approaching menace, seemed to recognize the danger that loomed.

"Hawks, head left. Shoto, make your way to the right," Touya commanded, his movements deliberate as he advanced toward the wolf. He didn't allow his gaze to waver, maintaining unbroken eye contact with the creature. Breaking that connection would trigger the wolf's attack, and Touya couldn't afford a single blink in this dangerous dance between predator and prey.

Shoto and Hawks shared another glance before silently adhering to Touya's directive. They moved with utmost stealth, the only sound the hushed crunch of snow under their boots, as they navigated the shadows of the night.

Touya began a deliberate circle around the wounded animal, and in response, the wolf mirrored his movements, growling and revealing its still bloodied, menacing fangs to the scarred man. The tension hung heavy in the air as the primal dance unfolded.

The wolf, fueled by a mix of pain and aggression, was the first to make a move. In the blink of an eye, it lunged at Touya, meeting the assault with swift retaliation. A dagger found its mark in the animal's side, but rather than deter it, the attack seemed to stoke the flames of its fury.

Touya, thrown off balance, toppled to the ground. The wolf, undeterred, closed in, its snarling muzzle snapping dangerously close to the scarred man's face. In the struggle to fend off the relentless predator, Touya's desperate plea cut through the frigid air, "Help!"

For Shoto, the unfolding scene was a twisted opportunity. It seemed as though disposing of Touya could be easier than he had initially thought; all he had to do was wait and watch as his brother faced the relentless assault of the wolf.

Hawks, torn by a lingering human instinct to intervene, hesitated. However, his intention to step in was halted by Shoto's raised hand, a silent command to stay back.

As the wolf persisted in its attack, Touya fought back with determination. The dagger found its mark several more times, warm blood coating his hands as he struggled to free himself from the ferocious jaws. In the midst of the struggle, Touya's voice cut through the tension, a desperate plea for assistance. "What's wrong with you, Shoto?! Hawks, help me kill this thing!"

Shoto's eyes narrowed, a chilling resolve in his gaze. "Don't you dare to move," he warned Hawks, the threat laced with a cold determination that left no room for negotiation.

Touya's brow furrowed for a fleeting moment at the words of his younger brother, but determination fueled him. With a final effort, he managed to free himself from the relentless jaws of the wolf, crawling away to the edge of a high bluff that marked the meadow's eastern boundary. The wolf lay motionless a short distance away. Touya, on trembling limbs, slowly knelt, gasping for air, his body still trembling. He then directed a bewildered gaze at his younger brother. "What the hell!?"

Hawks observed the unfolding dynamics, crossing his arms over his chest, a silent witness to the family drama.

Shoto, undeterred, approached his older brother with a sneer. "Don't misunderstand me, dear brother. I appreciate your help back in the camp, but I'm not about to owe you anything. There's a chasm between us, and nothing will erase it. Life is cruel, always has been. Survival favors the strongest, and, sorry to say, you don't fit that description."

Touya's expression hardened as he slowly rose to his feet. "What the hell, Shoto? I made it clear some time ago — I don't want the power, and I sure as hell don't want that damned earl's crown. It's yours if you want it."

Shoto sighed, idly playing with his axe as he closed the distance between them. "Yeah, yeah. The problem is our illustrious father doesn't see it that way. Rumors are circulating that you've gained favor in his eyes, especially after that last successful raid. I can't let you snatch away what's rightfully mine. I'm sorry."

Touya turned to Hawks, a look of disbelief in his eyes. "Hawks?"

Keigo shrugged, his allegiance clear. "Sorry, my lord, but I've always been loyal to Shoto."

Touya let out a derisive snort. "I can't believe this. I never wanted any of this division between us. It's always been your paranoia about power. I never wanted to harm you, Shoto. I never wanted to take anything from you. All I ever wanted was to live my own life. That's it. You're our father's prized possession, not me."

Shoto tilted his head, a wide smirk playing on his lips. "Indeed. Unfortunately, our father perceives things differently. And now that you've acquired that damn thrall, freeing her and all, I can't wait until the day you get her pregnant. That would seal my fate entirely. You get it, don't you?"

Touya snorted, tightening his grip on a dagger. "I never intended to be at odds with you, Shoto."

Shoto retorted, "Yet it always seems to come down to a fight, doesn't it?"

Before the brothers clashed, Hawks yelled, "Shoto, step aside, the wolf!"

The younger Endeavorson swiftly turned his head for a brief moment, spotting a black wolf poised for an attack. In a swift maneuver, the two-toned haired man dodged, creating an open space between the fatally wounded alpha and his elder brother.

Touya found himself without enough time to evade the impending attack. Bracing for impact, as the wolf leaped toward him, he struggled to maintain balance on the slippery snow. For a fleeting moment, he believed he had regained control, but as he took a step back, the ground beneath his feet disappeared — he stepped into the void of the bluff.

Touya let out a scream, the sound mingling with the wolf's howl as Touya’s dagger once again found its mark on the animal's side. Together, they plummeted into the darkness of the night.

Soon, the night reclaimed its overwhelming silence.

Shoto rose to his feet, accepting the hand offered by Hawks to help him stand. The two exchanged a glance and slowly approached the edge of the bluff, peering down.

Several meters below, they observed Touya's lifeless form pinned beneath the massive wolf that had descended with him. Touya's left leg twisted at an unnatural angle.

Hawks, witnessing the gruesome scene, fought back a wave of nausea, gasping at the sight.

Shoto, however, maintained a stoic expression. "Seems like my problem has resolved itself. Fate decided to lend me a hand that night. I thought we might have to resort to poison, huh. Move, Hawks. We need to return to camp and share the unfortunate news with our fellow warriors." With those words, Shoto left, a self-satisfied grin playing on his lips.

Hawks watched Shoto in silence, his gaze lingering for a moment. Then, he turned his attention back to the scene below. A quiet tear traced down his cheek, falling onto the snow stained crimson by the alpha's blood.

Meanwhile, you went about your daily tasks in your new, free life, the familiar sense of accomplishment warmed your spirit. The small hut, now a cozy haven, stood as a testament to your new position.

Helga and Natsuo, friends who had become like family, offered their unwavering support during the two days it took to set up your new home.

One evening, Helga entered the room, "How's everything coming along, dear Y/N? Need any more help with the arrangements?"

You smiled, grateful for her presence, "Thank you, Helga. I think we've covered everything. Your help has been invaluable."

Natsuo, sitting near a tiny fireplace, chimed in, "It's the least we could do. This is a fresh start for you, and we're glad to be a part of it."

As you arranged items on a shelf, Helga leaned against the doorframe, "I must say, this place looks cozy. It's a far cry from the constraints of the past, isn't it?"

You nodded, "Indeed. Freedom was a gift I never knew I needed. And having friends like you made it all the more special."

Natsuo grinned, "Well, now that your new home is all set, what's next on your agenda?"

You paused, looking around, "I think I'll just try to find myself something to do.”

Later in the evening, Natsuo brought pails of water to your hut. He greeted you warmly, "Evening! Thought you might need some water after your day."

You thanked him, taking the pails. As you both sat outside your hut, enjoying the cool breeze, Natsuo couldn't help but notice a hint of sadness in your expression. "Something on your mind?"

You sighed, "It's just... Touya has been gone for so long on their mission. I miss him, you know?"

Natsuo nodded empathetically, "I get it. He'll be back, though. The missions are tough, but he's resilient. And you've got us here to keep you company in the meantime."

You smiled, appreciating his comforting words.

As the evening unfolded, the sound of shared stories and laughter echoed under the night sky, creating a comforting ambiance. Natsuo, always a good companion, shared anecdotes from the day's activities, lightening the mood.

You couldn't help but be grateful for the supportive community you now found yourself in. The conversations provided a soothing balm to the longing for Touya's return. Natsuo's presence, in particular, brought a sense of camaraderie that eased the ache of missing your partner.

"Touya will be back. The missions are demanding, but he's resilient. In the meantime, you've got us here to keep you company, to share these moments. We're like family now,” Natsuo spoke reassuringly.

As Natsuo prepared to leave, he looked at you with a thoughtful expression. "You know, sometimes these expeditions take longer than expected. It's the nature of the missions we undertake. They can be unpredictable, but it doesn't mean something has gone wrong. Touya is skilled, and they have a strong team with them." He continued, "I understand it's tough waiting, especially when you miss him, but it's part of this life. We've all been through it. Just remember, when they return, it makes the reunions all the more special."

With a warm smile, he bid you goodnight, leaving you with a sense of gratitude for the new beginnings and the supportive companionship that now colored your days and nights.

That night, as the moon cast an eerie glow through the tiny window of your hut, sleep enveloped you in a suffocating darkness. Tossing and turning on your modest cot, you found yourself trapped in the clutches of a haunting nightmare.

The air in the room felt heavy, and the silence of the night was disrupted by your whimpers and soft cries. In the realm of your dreams, shadows morphed into menacing figures, their faces shrouded in darkness as they circled around you. Each step they took echoed like a sinister drumbeat, intensifying the dread that gripped your soul.

As you lay paralyzed in the dream, the figures closed in, whispering malevolent secrets that clawed at the edges of your consciousness. Their voices, a chilling chorus, spoke of death and despair, weaving a tapestry of nightmares that threatened to consume you whole.

“He’s dead… He’s dead…”

"Only despair and sorrow lie ahead for you."

The cold sweat on your brow mirrored the intensity of the nightmare. Your cot felt like a prison, the thin fabric of reality separating you from the abyss of your subconscious fears. The figures, now distorted specters, reached out with ghostly hands, fingers like icy tendrils threatening to grasp your very essence.

In the grip of this macabre dream, the fear of death loomed large. The shadows converged, swirling around you like a vortex of impending doom. The nightmarish scenes played out in vivid detail — the echoes of your own cries, the palpable scent of fear, and the taste of desperation lingering in the air.

As the nightmare reached its crescendo, you jolted awake, gasping for breath. The moonlight spilled into the room, offering a stark contrast to the oppressive darkness of your dream. The reality of the small hut and the sound of your racing heart gradually replaced the nightmarish visions, but the residue of fear lingered, haunting the corners of your mind. The weight of the dream clung to you, a spectral reminder of the fragility of the human psyche in the face of the unknown.

Tears streamed down your face, and stifled sobs resonated in the stillness. Clutching your pillow as if it were a lifeline, you whispered Touya's name over and over, a desperate mantra that echoed the ache in your heart. “Touya, my love… Touya…”

Instinctively, an unsettling feeling gnawed at you, urging you to acknowledge that something was amiss. The weight of the night pressed upon you, and a haunting sense of foreboding hung in the air.

In the hushed hours before dawn, you made a decision. The nagging intuition that something was wrong compelled you to seek solace in Natsuo's understanding. As the first light of morning painted the sky, you resolved to confide in him, hoping that together, you could unravel the mystery that lingered in the shadows of your troubled dreams.

"Hey, Katsuki!? You think he's alive?" The tall, square-built man with red hair asked, casually skinning a massive, black wolf.

The ash-blond man, crouching next to a seemingly lifeless scarred figure, nonchalantly touched the man's shoulder with the haft of his axe. There was no immediate response. "It seems he's damn well dead, no doubt."

The red-haired man packed the wolf's skin into a sizable saddlebag secured to the side of his white mare. "We shouldn't leave him like that. We should bury him."

"Tsk! Oi, Kirishima, don't expect me to touch this rotting piece of shit. If you want that so much, bury him yourself. I can dig a damn hole. What the hell. We came to hunt, not deal with this crap."

"We apparently hunted down a dead man," Kirishima joked lightly, strolling closer. "Hmmm, he must've fallen from that bluff."

"He must've been a complete idiot then to get so close to the edge. Idiots always end up with the crap, don't they?"

Kirishima poked the other man's shoulder. "Quit with the disrespect. Odin's watching!" He snorted and crouched next to the man. "That's one nasty wound on his leg. Maybe it's a blessing he died, otherwise, he'd be crippled…"

"Enough chatter, start doing something!" Bakugo growled as he walked aside, scanning the ground for a spot less frozen to dig a grave.

In that moment, Touya's left hand twitched ever so slightly, and he let out a gasp filled with pain.

The sudden movement startled Kirishima, causing the red-haired man to fall back onto his butt. "Fuck! Bakugo! He's fucking alive!"

Bakugo returned to the two and once again pushed the man's shoulder with the hilt of his axe, eliciting a growl of pain. "Kill... Me..." the scarred man whispered.

Bakugo scoffed. "Oi, dumbass, shut the fuck up! Kirishima, guess we gotta take him with us. Even though I'd rather let him die here, it'd be merciful, given his injuries. He's one ugly fucking bastard. Odin himself would get fucking startled looking at this fucking extra."

"We need to bring him along. I'm certain our earl will be interested in this fellow."

"In a damn cripple? You're out of your damn mind, weird hair!" Bakugo growled, contemplating how to get the injured man onto his horse. "I think we gotta build some makeshift stretchers or something. Damn it! Let's move! I don't want to stay here at night. The wolves might have come back."

As Bakugo and Kirishima returned from their expedition, they made their way through the bustling settlement until they reached the earl's hall. With a determined stride, they entered the great hall where Earl Toshinorison held court.

Earl Toshinorison, known as All Might, commanded both respect and awe with his formidable presence. Standing tall and proud, he bore a robust and well-built frame that spoke of a lifetime of battles and victories. His golden hair, though now touched by strands of gray, retained an air of regality, cascading like a radiant mane around his shoulders.

His face, marked by the lines of wisdom and experience, harbored a strong jawline and a pair of piercing, blueish eyes that sparkled with a blend of authority and kindness. Despite the weight of leadership, there was a warm and approachable demeanor that endeared him to his people.

Earl Toshinorison adorned himself in attire that reflected both his status and prowess. A sturdy cloak, billowing with every movement, bore the symbols of his leadership. Beneath it, he wore armor crafted with care, a testament to the battles he had faced and the victories he had achieved.

In the midst of the settlement, he occupied a grand throne within the great hall, a symbol of his leadership and the heart of the community. His voice, when he spoke, carried the weight of authority tempered with a genuine concern for his people.

Earl Toshinorison was not just a leader; he embodied the spirit of a protector, a warrior whose strength and benevolence guided the community through the challenges of Viking life. The combination of his imposing stature, seasoned wisdom, and compassionate leadership made him a figure revered and admired by all who called the settlement their home.

"All Might, my lord," Bakugo greeted with a deep bow, acknowledging the leader of their community.

The earl, seated in his imposing throne, turned to them with a warm yet authoritative smile. "Bakugo, Kirishima, what news do you bring?"

Kirishima stepped forward, his demeanor respectful yet filled with a sense of urgency. "Earl, we found a man on the outskirts. He seemed injured, left for dead. But, surprisingly, he's alive."

All Might's expression shifted to a thoughtful concern. "Alive, you say? A life saved is a tale worth hearing."

Bakugo and Kirishima nodded and gestured to their companions to bring in the injured man. As they approached, Earl Toshinorison observed with keen eyes.

Aizawa, their most ruthless warrior among Toshinori’s settlement, accompanied them. His stoic presence added an air of seriousness to the situation.

The injured man, now resting on a makeshift stretcher, was laid before the earl. Yagi leaned forward, assessing the wounds with a discerning gaze. "A warrior left for dead. Curious."

Aizawa, standing at attention, spoke with his usual pragmatism, "He should've met his end. Perhaps fate has other plans."

All Might nodded in agreement, "Indeed, Shota. We shall tend to his wounds and learn his tale. A life spared under these circumstances may hold a purpose yet unknown."

The air in Skjaldvargr crackled with anticipation as the weary troop led by the Endeavorsons made its way back to the settlement. A murmur of excitement swept through the crowd, and the people gathered in the heart of the village began to cheer, their voices rising in a chorus of relief and hope.

As the warriors, dusted with the tales of their recent endeavors, entered the settlement, the cheers intensified. The crowd's eager eyes followed chests and sacks, laden with the spoils of their expedition. It was a moment of shared joy and anticipation as the warriors slowly unpacked their burdens, revealing treasures and goods from distant lands.

However, the elation in the air was tainted by a somber truth. The troop that returned was noticeably smaller than the one that had ventured out. An unspoken sorrow draped over those families who, instead of welcoming back their loved ones, found themselves gripped by the cold hand of grief. The absence of familiar faces, once vibrant with life, echoed louder than the cheers of triumph.

A hushed solemnity settled over those who faced the harsh reality of loss. Families, with eyes now clouded with tears, stood amidst the celebration, their joy eclipsed by the shadows of grief. The cheers of victory collided with the silent mourning of those who had given more than the spoils of war — a sacrifice written in blood.

The contrast between the jubilation and mourning created an unsettling symphony, a discordant melody that played out in the heart of Skjaldvargr. The warriors continued their unpacking, the clinking of treasures against the somber background of grieving families. It was a poignant reminder of the dual nature of their harsh existence, where triumph and sorrow coexisted like inseparable companions.

Unease nestled within you as you sat at the long table in the Great Hall, eyes fixed on Endeavor occupying the imposing throne. The air felt charged with tension, and the weight of the room bore down on you like an unwelcome burden.

Natsuo poked your side gently as he sat by your side, a playful gesture meant to break the intensity of the moment. "Hey, are you excited to see Touya again? It's been a while."

Your response was a hesitant smile. "Of course, I just... things are different now, aren’t they..."

Natsuo chuckled, "Well, different doesn't always mean bad, right? Touya is still Touya. I bet he's just as eager to see you."

The heavy door to the Great Hall swung open, breaking the tension that hung in the air.

Shoto, the youngest Endeavorson, stepped in with a measured grace, his gaze flickering across the room until it settled on you for a brief moment.

Hawks followed closely behind.

Shoto's eyes met yours briefly, a silent acknowledgment that spoke volumes. The room hushed as the two newcomers approached the throne, their arrival signaling a significant shift in the atmosphere. The weight of anticipation settled on the shoulders of those present, each heartbeat echoing in the grand hall.

Natsuo, by your side, leaned in and whispered, "Here they are. Let's see how this unfolds. I’m curious where Touya is."

"My earl," Shoto bowed his head to greet his father, a gesture mirrored by Hawks.

Endeavor's stern gaze bore down on his son. "It's good to see you back, Shoto. Rumor has it you brought a lot of goods from the trip."

"I did, indeed," the young prince replied. "We also accumulated some losses, my lord."

A subtle tension gripped the air, and an unspoken dread settled upon your heart and soul.

"What do you mean? Where's your older brother?" the earl asked, his frown deepening.

"He died, my lord," Shoto replied, his expression a stoic mask.

"What!" You exclaimed, jolting up from your place. "Impossible!"

Even Endeavor rose from his throne, descending the two steps to be on his son's level. "What do you mean, Shoto? What happened?" The earl’s voice trembled a little.

Hot tears streamed down your face, and Natsuo wrapped his arm around your shoulders, rubbing them in an attempt to bring you some comfort. The weight of the revelation hung heavy in the air, and the Great Hall seemed to echo with the echoes of disbelief and sorrow.

Shoto's voice cut through the somber air of the Great Hall, recounting the harrowing tale of the wolf attack. He spoke of Touya's courage, how he stood against the onslaught to protect his fellow warriors, including Shoto himself. The youngest Endeavorson described how Touya, driven by the need to eliminate the alpha, faced the final confrontation at the edge of the bluff.

As the story unfolded, you felt an invisible weight pressing down on you. Your hands trembled, and a haunting whine escaped your lips, akin to a wounded animal. The anguish of Shoto's words resonated within you, each detail etching pain into your heart.

"He fought valiantly," Shoto continued, his voice steady. "But in the end, the wolf lunged, and they both fell."

Your knees gave way beneath you, and you sank to the ground, overwhelmed by the reality of Touya's fate. The ache in your chest was unbearable, as if your heart had cracked and broken, the searing pain akin to hot iron being poured over your soul.

Natsuo's eyes flared with a sudden intensity, and he snapped at Shoto, "I'm damn sure it wasn't an accident. He just happened to fall off the bluff?! That’s not what Touya would ever let happen! You little coward! I’m sure you put your hand to that!"

Shoto growled angrily in response, his demeanor darkening as he retorted, "Are you even aware of what you're talking about, Natsuo? Accusing me of…"

"He wouldn't just fall off like that!" Natsuo's voice rose, an undercurrent of anger coursing through his words. "Touya was too skilled for that.”

Shoto's expression hardened, his eyes narrowing. "You dare to insinuate…"

"I'm not insinuating anything!" Natsuo interrupted, the tension in the air thickening. "I'm saying it outright. There's more to this, and you damn well know it."

"Tsk," Shoto shook his head, his voice dripping with disdain. "Better shut your mouth, dear brother. You're talking nonsense."

Your entire body trembled, barely registering the words exchanged between the two brothers.

"I'm so sorry for your loss," Hawks said with a slight bow to Natsuo and then Endeavor. "Touya was..."

"Don't you dare to talk about my brother!" Natsuo erupted, hurling a cup at the warrior. "Don't you dare to use his name, you filthy, venal bastard."

"Enough!" Endeavor roared, a silent tear tracing a path down his scarred cheek.

"Oh, I couldn't agree more with you, dear father," Shoto sent Endeavor a sly grin, and then bellowed, "Guards!"

Warriors entered the Great Hall, awaiting the young prince's orders.

"Take my father out and put him in that unoccupied hut at the bay. Make sure to tie him up well, even though he's old, the bastard's still strong."

"What!" Natsuo growled.

Endeavor looked down at his son. "What are you trying to do, Shoto? You can't just..."

At that moment, Shoto aimed a hard slap at his father's cheek. "Say one more thing, father, and I'll cut your throat here and now. You're not an earl anymore. You're nothing. You always were nothing. Give me your axe."

Endeavor remained motionless, his gaze shifting briefly between Natsuo and you.

"Your damn axe and crown!" Shoto's voice rose, demanding compliance, his hands reaching toward his father.

Reluctantly, the old earl reached to his belt, extracting the axe from a leather scabbard. He passed the item to Shoto, removing the crown from his head with a heavy sigh.

The young prince took the axe and the crown from his father, wielding the symbol of authority with contempt. With a sudden, violent motion, he smashed the crown against the nearest wall, watching it shatter into irreparable pieces.

"You're making a grave mistake, Shoto," Endeavor warned.

Shoto grinned back at his father, a sinister edge to his smile. "Oh, old man, there's no Touya to stand by your side anymore. Your beloved firstborn, the one you happily discarded and tried to kill when he was an infant, is truly gone now. You have no one to protect you. Your guards are listening to me, they've been for a while already. And Natsuo," Shoto looked at the white-haired man standing near you, "He's nothing, he doesn't even know how to wield a shield."

Hawks chuckled darkly, nodding at his people. A few warriors approached the earl, tying his hands behind his back. One of them delivered a strong blow to the earl's face.

"No!" Natsuo screamed.

You sobbed loudly, watching the horrifying scene unfold. The question lingered in your mind: why didn't Endeavor react at all?

The crisp air carried the call of Hawks and a group of warriors as they traversed through the settlement. The sound of their voices resonated, commanding the attention of all citizens, beckoning them to gather by the bay.

Meanwhile, in the desolate confines of an abandoned hut, Endeavor was bound to a wooden balk, his mind enveloped in bitter reflection. The flickering light filtering through the cracks in the worn walls revealed a man scarred, not only physically but also by the torment delivered upon him by Hawks and his people.

As he strained against his restraints, Endeavor couldn't escape the echoing regrets that reverberated within his thoughts. He cursed himself for the blindness that had shrouded his vision, the inability to see the rot that festered within Shoto. The weight of realization pressed heavily upon him, and he was left to grapple with the consequences of his own choices.

Silently, you sneaked into the dimly lit hut, the chalice of water and a soft rug clutched in your hands. The feeble light revealed the cruel aftermath of the torment inflicted upon Endeavor, and a gasp escaped your lips at the sight of his battered form.

Approaching cautiously, you set the chalice down and carefully unfolded the rug. Kneeling beside him, you dipped a corner of the cloth into the water, your movements gentle as you began to clean the wounds on his face. The atmosphere hung heavy with tension, punctuated only by the distant calls from the bay.

His eyes, filled with a mix of pain and resignation, met yours as you worked.

"What are we supposed to do now?" you asked with a shaking tone, your voice barely above a whisper.

Endeavor's gaze bore into yours, and for a moment, the weight of uncertainty hung in the air. "Shoto won't stop until he has complete control,” he replied, his voice strained. “I’m afraid there’s nothing that can be done.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you whispered, "I can't believe Touya..." Your hand trembled, and the pain in your voice echoed through the dimly lit hut.

A solitary tear rolled down Endeavor's scarred cheek as he uttered words heavy with resignation. "You should flee from here before I'm executed, Y/N."

Dread seized your body, and you protested, "Don't say that, my lord. I'm sure Shoto is not that crazy to get you killed… And I have nowhere to go.”

Endeavor's gaze met yours, and in that moment, he decided to reveal the truth about what he had noticed in his youngest son's eyes. "I saw it, in Shoto's eyes. The thirst for power, the willingness to do whatever it takes. He's not the boy I raised. He's become something darker, something I failed to see until it was too late."

Your heart sank at Endeavor's revelation, the truth piercing through the air like a chilling wind. The realization that Shoto had transformed into something unrecognizable, something darker, gripped you with a sense of helplessness.

"I should have seen it sooner," Endeavor muttered, his voice filled with regret. "But blinded by my own desires for power, I failed to grasp the truth until it was too late. I won’t forgive myself… I should’ve listened to Touya."

The gravity of the situation pressed upon you, and you wiped away the tears that stained your cheeks. "We can't let him continue down this path," you whispered, your voice laced with determination.

Endeavor nodded solemnly. "You must go. Flee from this place before it's too late. I will face the consequences of my actions, but you have a chance for a different fate."

The distant sound of footsteps approached the hut, signaling the arrival of Shoto's guards.

In that moment, you wrapped your arms around Endeavor's neck, giving him a tight hug, a silent gesture of reassurance and determination. "I promise, my lord, that I'll avenge Touya. I don't believe Shoto didn't have a hand in it anymore," you whispered, the words laden with both sorrow.

"I'm afraid you're right," Endeavor admitted, his own acceptance of the harsh reality permeating the air. “Go now, girl.”

With a heavy heart, you took the chalice and the rug, casting one last glance at Endeavor, who remained bound and alone in the desolate hut. The weight of the situation pressed upon you as you stepped out into the cold air, leaving the confines of the dimly lit space.

The evening air hung heavy with tension as the citizens of the settlement gathered at the bay.

Hawks, with a certain casual indifference, lazily cleaned his dagger, his guards vigilant in ensuring that no one was left behind.

You and Natsuo stood among the gathered crowd, your eyes nervously flitting between the citizens and Natsuo.

The atmosphere thickened as two guards brought the bound form of Endeavor to the jetty, his presence eliciting hushed whispers among the onlookers.

And then, like a harbinger of darkness, Shoto emerged. A grotesque crown made of bird skulls adorned his head, and an opulent fur of a snow leopard draped over his shoulders, a trophy from one of Endeavor's raids. The blood and white paint smeared across his face formed viking symbols, marking him as the harbinger of a new era.

A profound silence fell over the assembly as Shoto made his way to the forefront. The people, recognizing the symbolic weight of his appearance, knew that there was no room left for argument or dissent. The young prince had become an embodiment of authority, clad in the spoils of his conquests, and the settlement braced itself for the changes that his rule would bring.

Shoto made his way to the jetty with deliberate steps, his eyes scanning the gathered crowd. They found yours in the sea of faces, and for a brief moment, his gaze lingered on your tear-stained visage. The weight of his stare bore into your soul before he redirected his focus to the bound figure of his father, kneeling on the jetty.

The hushed whispers of the crowd ceased as Shoto raised his hand, a signal for silence. His voice cut through the still air, carrying a mix of authority and cold detachment. "Citizens of Skjaldvargr," he began, his tone echoing over the water, "The time of reckoning has come. For too long, we have been shackled by the failures of our past. The time for a new era, a stronger era, has dawned."

His eyes scanned the faces of the assembly, pausing on his father for a moment before addressing the crowd once more. Shoto moved deliberately towards the jetty, each step echoing with a proclamation of his newfound authority. As his gaze scanned the gathered crowd, it found yours among the sea of faces. His eyes locked onto your tear-stained visage, lingering for a moment longer than necessary, a cold acknowledgment of the impact his actions had on you, before he shifted his focus to his father, who knelt there, bound and vulnerable.

The silence that enveloped the bay was broken by Shoto's commanding voice, carrying the weight of his judgment. "Citizens of Skjaldvargr," he began, his tone unwavering. "The time of reckoning has come. For too long, we have been shackled by the failures of our past. The time for a new era, a stronger era, has dawned."

He gestured towards Endeavor, his father, with an air of finality. "Endeavor, once known as the earl, has failed to lead us into greatness. He allowed weakness and sentiment to cloud his judgment. It is time for a new leader, one who will guide us to prosperity."

Shoto's eyes flickered back to yours for a brief moment, a chilling gaze that hinted at the personal nature of his vendetta. "The former earl will face justice for his shortcomings. The verdict is the death penalty. Let this serve as a reminder that only strength will prevail in the harsh realities of our world."

The pronouncement echoed over the bay, sealing the fate of Endeavor and setting in motion the irreversible changes that Shoto, now adorned with the symbols of his triumph, would bring to the settlement.

The verdict hung in the air, heavy and final, as Shoto turned away, leaving the jetty and the kneeling figure of his father behind to take a seat on a throne that was prepared for him nearby.

The weight of Shoto's harsh verdict hung in the air like a shroud, and as the crowd absorbed the reality of the situation, hot tears streamed down your face. Instinctively, you grasped Natsuo's palm, seeking solace and support in the face of the unfolding tragedy.

The bay was cloaked in a heavy silence as the guards began the degrading process of undressing Endeavor's upper body. His once proud and scarred form was exposed to the harsh scrutiny of the onlookers, the symbols of his past glories now overshadowed by the weight of his transgressions.

The guards, expressionless and cold, tied Endeavor's hands spread to two sturdy stanchions positioned in the center of the jetty. The former earl knelt there, vulnerable and exposed, his fate hanging in the balance.

As the unsettling tableau unfolded, Hawks stepped forward, a grim determination etched on his face. Clutching his axe and dagger, he circled Endeavor with predatory precision. The rhythmic sound of his boots on the wooden planks echoed through the bay, creating an eerie cadence that intensified the chilling atmosphere.

Positioning himself behind Endeavor, Hawks loomed like a shadow, a silent harbinger of the impending judgment. The air crackled with tension, and the onlookers, unable to tear their eyes away, awaited the next grim chapter in the unfolding saga of Skjaldvargr.

Hawks nodded at his people, and they made Endeavor lean forward by pulling on the ropes tied to the earl’s wrists.

Hawks, grinning widely like a madman, started by making a deep, vertical incision along the earl's spine. This incision severed the skin, muscle, and connective tissues, exposing the underlying bones and organs.

Endeavor, bound and exposed to the merciless fate of the Blood Eagle, fought vehemently against the primal urge to scream. His muscles tensed, and every fiber of his being rebelled against the excruciating pain inflicted upon him. The raspy growls emanating from his throat served as a testament to his struggle, a warrior's battle cry against the agony that threatened to consume him.

In the midst of this macabre spectacle, Endeavor clung to the ancient belief that only by maintaining composure during such a brutal punishment could a warrior secure passage to Valhalla. His jaw clenched, and his eyes, filled with a mixture of pain and defiance, bore witness to the unfathomable ordeal, as tears rolled down his cheeks.

As the executioner continued the harrowing process, Endeavor's resolve was tested in the crucible of suffering. The groans that escaped him carried not only the weight of agony but also a silent determination to prove his mettle in the face of an unimaginable horror.

Your tears flowed unabated, soaking into the fabric of Natsuo's shirt as you sobbed, the weight of grief and horror pressing heavily on your heart.

Natsuo, too, couldn't contain the surge of emotions that gripped him, and tears welled up in his eyes, silently streaming down his cheeks.

The two of you, connected by shared sorrow, clung to one another in a world suddenly bereft of hope.

Despite the absence of a genuine father-son bond with his own father, Natsuo understood the pain of loss, and his tears mirrored your own. "Father," the man whispered, barely moving his lips. "May Odin guide your spirit to the hallowed halls of Valhalla..."

With the earl's spine exposed, Takami proceeded to cut through the ribs, detaching them from the spine. This macabre act created the framework for what resembled "wings." Hawks then reached into Endeavor's chest cavity, pulling out the man's lungs through the opening created by the removal of the ribs. This grotesque act gave the victim the appearance of wings, completing the horrifying visual metaphor.

Hawks stood amidst the aftermath, his once-vibrant attire now drenched in the deep crimson hue of blood. From his tousled hair down to his boots, every inch of him was painted in the somber shades of scarlet, a testament to the brutal task he had undertaken.

The metallic scent of iron lingered in the air around him, an olfactory testament to the visceral reality of the harrowing act.

Hawks, his visage marred by the grotesque tableau before him, grinned like a man possessed, a maniacal glint in his eyes. His gaze, like a predator reveling in the aftermath of a successful hunt, fixated on Shoto, the new earl, who observed the scene with an unsettling amusement.

In his final moments, Endeavor, the once-mighty earl, summoned the strength to lift his head, a haunting defiance in his gaze. As the life ebbed away from him, he whispered words of reunion to a love lost in the annals of time. "Rei... Love.... I'm coming to you..." With those parting breaths, his head succumbed to the inevitable, lolling to the side.

Amidst the horror, you struggled to contain the surge of emotions, your tears choking your throat as you witnessed the cruel end meted out to the man who was once a father figure.

Shoto, now the legal earl, approached the lifeless form, a twisted rite of passage in the unforgiving realm. Sizing up the head of his father, he coldly declared, "The earl is dead!"

As Hawks chanted, "Long live the earl!" with an eerie enthusiasm, the guards compelled the onlookers to repeat the grim proclamation, the echoes of submission punctuating the air heavy with the scent of iron and death.

The settlement, now under the shadow of a new ruler, braced itself for the changes that were bound to come.

Shoto's subtle gesture summoned Hawks closer, their exchange shrouded in whispered words.

As the blonde-haired man stepped back, he bellowed your name, a chilling summons that cut through the heavy air, freezing the blood in your veins. “Y/N!”

Natsuo, understanding the impending darkness, tightened his grip on your hand, silently pleading for you to resist the ominous call. His subtle head shake conveyed the urgency to stay away, to avoid the perilous path that beckoned. But the relentless echo of your name persisted, a haunting melody drawing you towards an inevitable confrontation.

With tear-streaked cheeks, you met Natsuo's gaze once more, finding solace in his silent plea. Gathering what remained of your resolve, you wiped away the evidence of your anguish and, with a determined stride, pushed through the crowd. The last thing you needed was the cold, unyielding grasp of guards dragging you to Shoto against your will.

As you approached Shoto, the air became charged with an eerie tension. His eyes, adorned with a sinister gleam, followed your every step.

The crowd, still subdued by the recent events, parted to make way for your reluctant journey.

Hawks, positioned next to Shoto, continued to observe with a sinister grin, aware that the unfolding scene held a profound significance in the new earl's machinations.

Shoto, crowned with skulls and adorned in the spoils of victory, waited for you with a calculated calmness.

You stood before Shoto, a pawn caught in the web of a power play.

With a wicked smile, Shoto leaned in, whispering words that clawed at the edges of your sanity. "Y/N, it seems your fate is entwined with ours now. You will play a crucial role in the future of Skjaldvargr."

Your frown deepened as you couldn't comprehend the unsettling thoughts swirling in Shoto's mind. With a hint of trepidation, you dared to voice the question that lingered on your lips, "What do you have in mind?"

Shoto, feigning sweetness, leaned in with a twisted smile. "Now that Touya is no more, it falls upon me to decide your fate, Y/N. A bereft girl, left in the aftermath of such a tragedy. But fear not, for I have plans for you."

Terror gripped your heart as Shoto unveiled his intentions. "From this moment forth, you'll no longer revel in the freedom bestowed upon you by my deceased brother. Instead, you shall become my concubine, and I expect you to bear me an heir."

A quiet but resolute "No" escaped your lips as you resisted the notion, unwilling to surrender your autonomy.

Shoto, undeterred, grasped your chin, pulling you closer. "Don't resist, dollface. Make a scene, and I'll orchestrate another blood eagle tonight. If you refuse, Hawks will have the honor of ending Natsuo's life, the last person standing by your side."

His words echoed with a cruel certainty, leaving you with a chilling realization that your fate was no longer your own. A solitary tear traced a path down your cheek, a silent testament to the anguish that gripped your soul.

Shoto, reveling in the display of vulnerability, leaned forward, capturing the tear with the tip of his tongue. He licked it off, savoring the taste of your despair before whispering into your ear. "If I were you, I'd be obedient. There's no one left to protect you, and you're going to be mine, whether you want it or not."

"Why me?" you dared to question, your voice carrying a defiant edge.

Shoto's grin widened. "I've had my share of Viking women. A Christian girl, even a prudish one, is said to be particularly naughty in the alcove." The lecherous implications of his words hung heavily in the air, accentuating the grim reality that now lay before you.

Your stomach twisted in knots as Shoto's words reverberated in the air.

"Y/N, from now on, is considered my concubine," Shoto declared with a tone that brooked no argument. "Anyone going against me or her will face the doom immediately. And one last thing, all the warriors who supported my father shall be executed by dawn. Consider this night your last with your families. Satisfy yourselves with your women and put your kids to sleep for the final time. Don't even think about running away, as my envoys will find you wherever you hide."

He took your palm in his, a cruel possession that marked the beginning of your tragic fate. Before you left, Shoto's gaze shifted to Hawks. "Make sure Natsuo is locked in his room in the Great Hall. Tomorrow, I'll decide his fate."

"Of course, my lord," Hawks nodded obediently, the cold determination in his eyes betraying the allegiance he now held to Shoto.

As the thralls followed Shoto's orders, you found yourself in a bath, the warm water doing little to comfort your tormented soul. You let your tears fall freely, their silent streams mingling with the water around you. The echoes of your life's upheavals played in your mind like a haunting melody, each note a reminder of the tragedy that seemed to follow you relentlessly. How swiftly your life had changed, once under the control of Touya's unpredictable whims, and now, bound by Shoto's ruthless will.

You longed to scream, to cry out against the unfairness of it all. Shoto, a young man scarcely older than you, had become the architect of your misery. You despised him, and yet, the thought of begging for mercy from this vicious ruler crossed your mind. The temptation to ask him to end your misery with the swift swing of his axe haunted your thoughts.

However, a greater fear gripped your heart — the threat to Natsuo. Shoto's warning echoed in your mind, and you couldn't bear the thought of allowing harm to befall the one person who had consistently shown you kindness and support. You resolved to endure, to strategize, to find a way to protect Natsuo from the impending darkness that Shoto had cast upon your life.

After the bath, you were presented with the finest nightgown, a garment crafted from snow-white silk that draped elegantly around you. The thralls, with delicate hands, brushed and arranged your hair as you sat in front of a mirror, contemplating your reflection. The mirror seemed to reflect not just your physical appearance but also the weight of the burden now resting on your shoulders.

Assisted by the thralls and guided by the guards, you were led to the chamber that once belonged to earl Endeavor. As the thick doors swung open, the opulence of the room overwhelmed your senses. The chamber was vast, with a massive fireplace positioned on the opposite wall, providing warmth and a flickering dance of flames.

To the left of the entrance stood a colossal bed, adorned with a thick mattress and furs, supported by two sturdy columns at its head. The bed itself was a work of art, crafted from field maple. On the opposite side of the room, a table with two chairs and a closet adorned with a mirror completed the ensemble of wealth and luxury. It was a stark contrast to the grim fate that had befallen the former occupant of this room.

As you took in the grandeur, a mix of emotions churned within you. The softness of the silk against your skin felt incongruent with the turmoil within your heart. The room, once a sanctuary for a now-fallen ruler, now served as a gilded cage for you, ensnared by circumstances beyond your control.

It took a moment before you realized that the door had closed behind you, leaving you alone in the opulent chamber — or so you thought.

A smooth voice, belonging to the new earl, reached your ears as Shoto gracefully rose from a chair situated in the dimly lit corner of the room. He appeared to be occupied with polishing his axe. "Finally, I was growing impatient," he remarked, his voice devoid of any warmth or sympathy.

"Forgive me, my lord," the title felt foreign on your tongue as you addressed the man who now held power over your fate. The room, once a symbol of authority and now tainted by the dark events that had transpired, became the stage for a twisted power play that you found yourself unwillingly participating in.

Shoto placed the axe on the table and leisurely approached you, gently lifting your chin to meet his dual-colored eyes. "Don't be afraid, dollface. I'm not going to hurt you."

"You already did," you replied with defiance. "I know it was not an accident."

"You mean Touya? Oh, my little raven," he cooed, "of course it was an accident. Do you really think I'd let my beloved brother die?"

You snorted, and a tear rolled down your cheek.

"Shush, shush, no crying in here. You're too beautiful for sadness," he said, wiping your tear away with his thumb. "You'll have the life you deserved and which my poor older brother couldn't provide you with."

"He wouldn't lock me in a cage," you told him, and Shoto chuckled.

"A cage? Oh no, sweetheart, I'm not going to lock you in a cage. You're my concubine now, and a lot of privileges come with this title." His words dripped with a perverse sense of entitlement, sending a shiver down your spine as you realized the dark reality that awaited you in the clutches of the new earl.

Shoto gently traces his fingertips against your lips and neck, slowly moving them down your décolletage. Shoto circled you slowly, his movements reminiscent of a predator closing in on its prey. "I just expect you to be faithful to me, that's all I'm asking for. I want you to be a representative figure, shining like a gem by my side. And I want you to bear me a child, an outright heir of pure blood," he declared.

"But my blood isn't pure. I'm not a pagan like you. Won't it make your child unworthy?" you growled, attempting to sway his unsettling conviction. However, your efforts seemed in vain as his long, thin fingers slipped under the fabric of your nightgown on your shoulders, slowly sliding the attire off.

"Don't worry your pretty little head. Before you give birth, you're going to be a Viking woman. I'll make sure of that," he said, licking his lips as he watched the thin material falling slowly to the floor.

In your initial instinct, you attempted to cover yourself with your hands. However, Shoto effortlessly seized both your wrists in one hand, securing them behind your back. Resting his chin on your shoulder, he used his spare hand to move a lock of your Y/H/C hair off your shoulder. "Don't. I want to see all of you. You were more willing to undress for my older brother. I still don't know why. Did he force you into his bed? No normal woman ever would, so he was fortunate to experience the mellowness of a woman's body before he died. His life was nothing but a failure."

That was enough. Provoked by Shoto's words laced with sarcasm, you swiftly turned and slapped his scarred cheek with all your might, pulling your hands free from his grasp. "Don't you dare," you warned. "For what you did, you will never reach your beloved Valhalla. Even your gods don't accept vile men into their chambers."

Seemingly anticipating this move, the man firmly grasped you by the throat and effortlessly threw you onto the bed. Before you could react, his weight pinned you down on the mattress. "You're so brisk and valorous; I like that," he grunted, pushing his knee between your legs, parting your thighs enough for him to settle between them. "Haven't you learned yet? You're with me or against me. And trust me, I couldn't care less about your pathetic life. So, it's better to act like a good, obedient girl for your lord."

That night unfolded in a torrent of pain, tears, and degradation. Despite your attempts to resist, to twist and turn, they proved futile. Shoto pursued his desires, stripping away your innocence. His touch, both cruel and frigid, felt akin to a scalding iron on your skin - a stark contrast from what Touya had once offered.

As Shoto slumbered peacefully at your side, content and spent from the unrelenting hours of asserting his dominance over your body, you lay by him, curled into a small, trembling ball. Silent tears traced pathways across your face, and with every slightest movement, you would gag yourself, feeling the haunting presence of his seed seeping out of you. A genuine desire for death welled within your soul.

"Forgive me, Touya... Forgive me," you whispered, your plea hanging in the heavy air before exhaustion enveloped you, guiding you into an uneasy slumber.

heathen wolves: @queenkhepri @indignant-alpaca @misafiryanki @roast-toast @within-eyesight @crystalwolfblog @haseki-huricihan @violet-forgetmenot @dagger-dragger @smartspot @alientobe @zero-sugar-null @peter-sommer @thedancingparrot @dearsunaa @greaterheart

278 notes · View notes