#dainty... cunning

[officialtokyosan]

starscream........

[strewbi]

how come every manhwa man has high water pants and no socks? I’m supposed to be intimidated by a man whose ankles I can see?

[urisk-factor]

Why can't spaniel wrangling be a sport? I'd be a god damn olympian, and it'd be a win win.

I get to spend time around lots of my favourite dogs

And Britain finally gets to have something come home for once

[dmitriene]

THOUGHTS ABOUT GUNSLINGER SIMON MEETING YOU AS HE PASS BY.

cw: fluff, comfort, sugesstive, kind of established relationship, groping, teasing, playful banters, kissing, dirty talk, marking, lot of intimacy, boner, pet names, brief mentions of female and male anatomy, could be posessive behavior, hints on sex, simon is filthy. pairing: cowboy simon ghost riley x fem reader

✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3. ˑ༄

thinking about gunslinger!simon — he meets you at the store, riding through town on a powerful black stallion to cross the road, and maybe buy a few things, if the sharp gaze of his dark bottomless eyes hadn't caught on your silhouette in a small grocery store, well, seems like he would definitely linger a little longer there, spent a night, even.

you've gone out to buy some small grocery shopping and maybe treat yourself to some pastries, but all your plans go down the drain when the wooden door of the store opens with a bell ringing above it and a cunning, smug bright red skull shaped mask walks in, carrying the identity of its owner, Ghost, whom you know as Simon.

— «ah, see who the horse has brought — eek!» you're in a hurry to notice sharply, but you don't have time to anticipate how quickly he'll cross the line from the door to you, letting you only feel the hurried touch of rough leather gloves over the curve of your waist, clad in the fabric of your dress, before he reaches out and squeezes your rounded ass, ripping out a high squeak out between your lips which he swallows hastily.

he turns you around to pin your back against the shelves of canned food and other goods, blocking the view of surprised eyes of another folks towards both of you, as he casually lifts his mask to his nose to slot his dry, tobacco scented lips to yours, licking inside your warm mouth with fervor of hungry mutt, intertwining his warm tongue with yours for just a fleeting moment before letting go of you.

simon pulls away from your lips just slightly, letting your breath blend together and his teeth pass against your lower lip in a playful bite, as you curl your dainty hand against his dark vest, shooting him a glare as your another hand grip a shopping basket stronger, your tongue slips between puffy lips to lick them, while your gaze focus on simon's sly squint of eyes and his wide grin that he hides behind his mask, and you spat stricktly — “and what this was about? that's how you say hello now?„

simon is amused by your play of the strict, spoiled girl, cause he sees how your eyes flutter shyly during a kiss before closing, and how you sigh into his mouth very quietly, only for him to hear, so he allows you to behave in this way, and in return he demands nothing more than a submission, even when he hoists you by the waist and carries to the exit, forcing you to hurriedly put the basket on the wooden shelf of the store and grab his biceps, pulling, demanding to designate his actions with at least a word, and he chuckles hoarsely — “jus' taking what's mine, can'' i, dovie?„

that makes you huff, «taking what's his» he says, in the meantime preventing you from shopping and doing whatever he pleases to you in public, you have long since lost all shame in his company, so that the words and looks of the townspeople do not mean much to you, but you allow yourself to let him know how displeased you are with his actions, frowning and pouting your lips, adding meekly — “and don't let me shop properly so i'll have what to eat, huh? very kind of you, Sir Ghost„

he visibly rolls his eyes, resembling boiled caramel in the sunset light, before glancing at your frowning brows and the way you pout your swollen from his kiss lips, before his leather covered gloved fingers wrap around your chin and turn your face a little more in his direction, so that simon can press the fabric of his mask into your ear.

— “we can pretty stay here, darling, if you won' me to bend you agains' shop's woll and fuck you for everyone to see?„

of course, the question is nothing more than rhetorical, because you won't agree to this, but it's worth it to see how your eyes widen and round like beads, and your skin definitely flushes, you can't utter a word, your lips parting silly like one of a fish, while simon takes advantage of this moment to put you on his horse before untie it from the rope, and climb in after you, sitting comfortably behind your back.

a position that allows him to grab your hips to pull you closer to him, making the softness of your ass brush against tenting hardness in his trousers, which pokes in the swell of your ass that is definitely not his revolver.

pleased, simon grabs the reins and tugs them, lightly tapping the sides of his black stallion with his feet, as his chin suddenly touches the curve of your shoulder, sending shivers down your spine.

— “i think i need to leave another one in more visible place, wha' do you think, dove?„ drawls his smoky voice, when he pulls the sleeve of your dress slightly with his chin, looking at the devil's mark, his bite, on your shoulders skin for anyone to see, if it weren't for the clothes behind which it can be hidden, not that he likes it, simon himself would have liked if you had worn it openly.

— “s — shush it„ you mutter, looking at him out of the corner of your vision with a little seriousness, adjusting the sleeve of your dress with slightly trembling fingers before continuing to stare ahead, while his broad muscular chest behind you quiver in a hoarse laugh, as he quietly, meant just for you, adds — “course, darling, i'll save this for later, yeah? sure you would be more talkative in bed, hun„

and he may be right, but it will be for his ears only.

— “when i would be balls deep in this little cunt of yours, birdy„

[tteokdoroki]

☆༉ — EIJIROU KIRISHIMA. ribbons, restraint and resolve.

about. eijirou kirishima loves to be tied up and restrained in the bedroom but not for the reasons you may think.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, smut, bondage, ribbon as a restraint, slight!dom / sub dynamics, edging, begging, orgasm control, kirishima is slightly mean, pro hero!kirishima, fem!reader.

kirishima who likes to be tied up. even though you both know that he’s big enough and strong enough to break through any type of restraint that you own. he likes the restriction, likes how you use him all for yourself, likes how you get too tired too quickly and start to cry out for him to move or fuck up into you.

kirishima who gets a little mean when he’s all tied up, faux pouting up at you — his voice a little higher, mocking you, while you whimper and plead. “ah, ah, ah sweetheart,” he sucks his teeth coyly, fighting a smile, his wrists pretending to struggle against the bed posts and red ribbon. “you said you wanted to have your fun with me. isn’t this fun?”

“n-no!” you cry out; punished by the twitch of eijiro’s cock against your silky, arousal lined walls. “please move eiji, please. i-i’ll untie you, i’ll say i’m sorry. just, please—“

leaning forward, kirishima’s arms bulge as they flex against his silken restraints. golden skin stretches over the muscle, blue veins prominent beneath the surface as he tilts his head up to kiss you. it’s slow, calculated and cunning — the kiss is. one that eijirou knows will only rile you up and make you weak in the knees.

it’s the type of kiss that shrouds your brain in darkness and consumes your every thought until all you can think about is your primal desire to please him.

it’s made obvious in the way your tight hole oozes a honeyed nectar down your boyfriend’s monstrously thick cock. if you tried hard enough, moved your hips a little more, you could get his sticky cockhead to press down on the perfect spot to make you cum and lose all ties to sanity.

but you can’t, not without red riot’s help.

“i thought you wanted to be in control?” eijirou teases, his tongue pressing up against the backs of his pearly white teeth as he smirks up at you. sinister. “you don’t want that, don’t want me to flip you over, take charge from you. you were having so much fun.”

the condescending lilt to his voice sends a shiver down your spine and the urge to circle your hips straight to your foggy little brain “b-but i don’t! ‘m not… eiji,” comes your desperate, needy little gasp. it’s not enough to have him inside of you, to force yourself up and down his creamy shaft to your heart’s content. you need eijirou to fuck you in that way he likes, deep and hard until you can feel him in your throat and see stars behind your fluttering eyelids. “i can’t… i can’t cum without you. please, eiji.”

his poor little baby, all this begging. is he supposed to feel sorry for you? you’re the one who wanted this. you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like the thrill of using the pro hero how you wanted, riding him until his chest was heaving and flushed. you enjoy torturing yourself on eijirou’s cock just as much as he likes seeing you suffer above him — keeping you right on the edge while he lays almost useless beneath you.

when all he really has to do is move his hips.

and that’s why he loves it. the pathetic mess you’ve become. the pathetic way in which you’ve worked yourself up by having your way with him when really eijirou kirishima has been the one in control all along. he set you up to feel oh so powerful with the mountainous red riot tied to your bed. but what’s even worse is the fact that your body knows it can’t get off without him, without his large hands guiding your hips and whilst his own (much stronger ones) pound at your tight, sluice pussy.

“too bad,” the redhead tuts in amusement, settling back amongst the pillows — his strong wrists firmly planted against the bed posts, somehow looking dainty with the red ribbon that ‘keeps’ them there. “get back to work, sweetheart. come unwrap your present.”

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[cherryfennec]

'Lovers, brothers, killers.'

Aka the "Bad End Trio",

aka firefly vs gothic lady vs homeless man

I know there's no way for them to ever canonically interact so it's a good thing I'm an artist and can just

I should probably mention that my Paper Mario and TTYD knowledge consists of:

Paper Mario: the opening cutscene, the vulture fight you can skip by saying you're Luigi, Parakarry, Luigi's diary, the name Goombario, Star Spirits(?), Kammy

TTYD: Hooktail, Luigi's Adventure, the look of the final fight, Koops, Doo_liss, Peach talks to a computer, Vivian, Bowser's there (???)

With that being said, In the theoretical scenario where they met though I'd say:

SQ Peach would have Bowser wrapped around her little finger, it didn't need much convincing he's just like that.

Bowser would try to imitate the smoke from Peaches cigarette to try to impress her, making rings and stuff.

While she doesn't care about these antics she'll sometimes show fake gratitude so he doesn't turn against her. It's good to have allies, especially above average ones.

In the beginning they both thought the little guy was pathetic and while Bowser stayed in his egoistic mindset Peach soon realised that while she could beat The Koopa King, she would not win in a fight with CH Luigi. After that realisation her attitude towards him didn't change (not to raise suspicion) but she knows to keep distance just in case.

At some point she might've tried to manipulate him to her side as well but while he does look silly he isn't stupid.

One day Luigi will be friendly and jolly, the other cunning and mischievous. It's tough having two personalities. Same with Peach, power hungry and egoistic yet dainty and a flower fan. Bowser's the only one who is just plainly a brute with short temper that will do anything to get his way.

In summary: Bowser only wants Peaches attention (thinks he can gain it with power) and doesn't care about the runt unless he annoys him, SQ Peach knows that Bowser will do anything for her and takes advantage of it while also trying her best to play around the other nuisance to her benefit, CH Luigi does whatever he wants because he knows they cant do anything to stop him in the end and Mario is living his fever dream.

I could probably think of more ideas but then this post would be much, much longer. So yeah I redesigned them slightly for funsies and while working on the art I've also came up with some dynamics that I wanted to share. It's a little different from my usual stuff ,as I mostly try to stay relatively close to the canon, but I had fun with coming up with these!

[m-ayo-o]

series ; foxtrot ★⋆. ࿐࿔ episode 2 ; double trouble

[episode 1 : popcorn]

-> 21+ Megumi wants to show you exactly what you mean to him

[reader is in an unsatisfying relationship with Toji, and Megumi- who is around reader's age/a little older- thinks he can help]

-> cw: cheating, justification of cheating, toji hate nsfw: fingering, oral

In the morning you know you're in double trouble, since Toji is suspicious of where you were last night, there's a fucking bite mark on your ear that you're desperately concealing with your hair, and Megumi is only increasing his flirtatious advances.

He's going to get you killed. You have no doubt about it.

He starts using that voice on your more; the deep, seductive one from the other night. He gets nice and close, stepping up behind you when you're busy, in another world, doing some chores or reading, and he makes you jump every time.

Satisfied that you're on edge, he takes this cruel game further and starts touching you.

After he found out that you were ticklish you knew the end was near.

Toji was going to find you squealing with laughter, kicking your feet with his son pinning you to the kitchen counter with his hips.

And once he got a taste for touching you, it's all he could think about.

Staring at you in those skimpy tops no longer satisfies him.

Seeing your tits bounce, their perky outline, and those stiff nipples poking through the material just isn't enough anymore. The sight of you is leaving him horny and desperate, while he imagines what you'd sound like if he gave those nipples a good, hard suck.

He wonders how sensitive they are, what you'd taste like... until his dick springs up and he's got his first problem.

The second is you. Knocking at his door.

Toji doesn't knock.

And your knuckles make such a dainty tapping sound on the wood, like a little bird.

"Uh huh?"

He answers, cock strapped in his waistband.

"Dinner?"

"Mhm" he clears his throat and fidgets. He can see down your top from this angle. Oh god, he's getting harder.

"I'll be down in a bit."

He huffs and closes the door, sinking back onto his mattress to take care of another [name] induced boner. He swears it's like a sickness.

Maybe he's no better than his father after all.

However, their similarities are fewer than he realises.

And he has a certain trait Toji is lacking; patience.

Megumi is cunning. He watches. He observes.

Then, when he knows everything will work in his favour, he acts.

He won't get caught.

He knows Toji's habits; the late night gambling, the time he spends on his shitty car in the garage, the hours spent drinking in some rundown bar.

What a waste of time.

Especially when he could be with you instead; the glimmering light in both of their lives which Toji doesn't seem to realise, let alone appreciate.

But Megumi does.

And he wants to show you just how much he appreciates you.

So, this evening, when his father is likely to step a few metres out of the house and into the attached garage, he plans on doing just that.

He waits for him to finish undressing you with his eyes. He watches him place a firm smack on your ass when he leans over you at the fridge, pressing a sloppy kiss to your cheek and grabbing a few cans of beer.

He barely looks at your face. It's all about your body, as if you're some kind of glorified sex toy.

Megumi makes a little ugh noise at the vulgar display, dipping his gaze back down to the newspaper he was reading at the kitchen table.

"What's up with you, urchin?"

Toji steps up to his fully grown son and ruffles his hair before ambling towards the back door that leads to the garage, as expected.

"Get your hands off me."

How disgusting.

At least he's predictable.

Moments after he's gone you're flitting about the kitchen, making yourself a hot drink, with Megumi still sitting there, eyes following you.

He likes watching you. You seem unaware. And so trusting.

Maybe too trusting of his father, at least, and his intentions with you.

"Why do you let him touch you like that?"

You're stunned, letting out an incredulous laugh.

"Like what?"

But realistically, you know what he means.

It's the slapping, the grabbing, the nonchalance of it all... you know his dad doesn't respect you.

There's a long pause, while Megumi watches you mull it all over.

"Do you want me to touch you instead?"

Butterflies erupt in your stomach when you hear that deep tone again.

Standing up from the kitchen table, he slowly approaches you where you lean against the counter.

You think of the exchange you shared with him in the bathroom and how a few gentle yet deliberate touches ignited your senses.

He's getting close to you again, like that night, and his neck hangs down as his stoic gaze fixes on you.

And you realise now, with his son staring deeply into your eyes and his body close to yours, that Toji not only shows you a distinct lack of respect... but also intimacy.

You didn't know how badly you needed it until now.

Until Megumi started looking at you like this.

"You know I'll do it better."

Your eyes dip down over the buttons of his shirt. It's not as if Toji doesn't leave you feeling fulfilled.

But there's nothing else to it.

It's just mindless fucking and it's making you tired.

"Tell me."

His lips move but you can barely hear him, like you're underwater, drowning in his soul that you can see through his dark eyes.

"I, I–"

You shouldn't want him.

You can't have him.

Your lips tremble and he can see the worry in your face; he can read the guilty thoughts in your mind.

"It's not wrong for you to want this."

His fingers graze your hip.

You nod, listening to whatever excuse he has.

Whatever he'll say to make it all okay.

"To want me."

His thumb draws circles just under the hem of your top and your body starts to light up.

"He's not good enough..."

His head tilts microscopically towards the garage, his senses still fine tuned on you.

He wants to tell you more. He wants to tell you just how far out of his father's league you really are. He wants to tell you to ditch him and that he could give you so much more.

Instead he keeps his mouth shut, eyes open, focused on your heart, beating in your chest, your lips, your eyes... it's almost as if your body is sparkling for him, your iridescence pulling him closer.

His palm flattens against your waist, under your shirt, making you shiver.

"I want to show you... how you should be treated."

You nod slowly and he starts pushing up your top, his firm hand gliding over your skin.

He lets out a near inaudible hum, feeling your satin smooth body. All the while, he keeps his eyes on you, begging for permission to push higher.

And you ignore that deep ache in the pit of your stomach that's telling you Toji is only metres away, he'll catch you, along with the general message of you're going to hell for this.

But with Megumi's hands on your body you're in heaven.

So you let him continue, getting closer to what he wants, until he inhales sharply.

"No bra..." he whispers over your lips and marvels at the warmth of your skin.

He knew you were perfect, but actually feeling your body like this is almost too much for him.

He starts massaging your breast slowly and some pretty noises spill out of your mouth.

But you're quick to bite your lip when you hear the radio crackling from the garage, which serves as an unnerving reminder of just how close Toji is.

Completely disregarding that fact, along with both of your safety, Megumi's left hand slips up your top to join the right as he switches from gentle massaging to rubbing your nipples.

His thumbs glide over the two perky peaks of your breasts, with your eyes still locked in a deep, wanting stare, and he feels them harden. He nearly starts moaning when you lift your top up, feeling a sudden surge of blood through his guts, going south, and he can't help but pinch your little nipples harder.

He releases a soft sigh and arches down over your smaller frame, almost like he's bowing, and he presses a long, hot kiss to your neck. He uses his tongue and sucks gently, making heat pool between your legs.

His fingers have made your nipples so hard now and you're about to fall apart from that alone, with your hands clinging onto the fabric of his shirt. You can only breathe in little hushed gasps and each time he changes his technique from pinching to massaging to teasing you with his fingertips, you let out a small moan. Hearing this, he smiles against your neck and keeps tugging at you eagerly.

He's been with enough women by now to know that orgasm is possible through nipple simulation alone... You'd be surprised at the amount of girls that could achieve it.

But tonight he wants to take as much as he can.

Before his father walks in through that door he wants to claim you for himself.

So one hand leaves your chest to find the front of your thin, lycra-like shorts.

His middle finger skims over the front seams and he hums with a devious smirk on his lips. He's looking at you now, to watch your pretty face react to his touch.

"No panties?"

You shake your head slowly, eyes dipping down to avoid his gaze.

Those are just the house rules... Toji says no underwear, so that's how it is.

The younger Fushiguro seems to approve, since he bites back another devilish smile and locates your clit quickly, precisely, through your clothes and starts circling you there, keeping up his nipple pinching with his spare hand.

And it's now, with his hands expertly touching the most sensitive parts of your body, that he asks-

"Can I kiss you?"

In this moment, it really sinks in that you're doing something bad.

But your pretty lashes flutter and you nod your head, because sometimes good people do bad things.

He leans down over your body, everything about him making you feel so small, until his lips touch yours.

He's gentle and passionate, and he makes you feel adored.

From one kiss.

He pulls away and looks you in the eyes.

"Do you still want me to do this?"

Your whole body flushes from how quickly you nod.

"Mm," he eyes you up and down, "good. 'Cause I don't know how much more of this I can take..."

Your head tilts, lip tucked between your teeth.

"The flirting," he sighs heavily through his nose, eyes glazing over with heat and... aggression, "the staring."

You feel his fingertips push your shorts down slowly.

"The touching."

Your body trembles at the sound of his voice, and his long, dexterous fingers find what he wants the most.

His knee nudges your thigh open a fraction more and he spreads you with those fingers, sinking down, through the slick mess he made.

"You know what we do to each other."

"Mhm-" you nod again, holding your breath.

You know that he's had his eyes on every inch of your clothed body, clenching his jaw closed so he doesn't drool like a fucking dog, getting so pent up from the way you bend over the dining room table to serve his father breakfast that he has to rush off to the bathroom with the biggest erection between his legs. And on your way upstairs you've heard him moaning through that bathroom door, and you've paused on the hallway outside, lingering, listening to the distinct slap, slap, slap of him touching himself. And you wait there, squeezing your thighs together and praying that Toji doesn't walk up the stairs, until you hear his son moan for you.

"Y-yeah~" you know what you do to him, alright.

And he knows he can get you wet by looking at you.

He only has to lower his eyelids a fraction, giving you that powerful, dark stare that makes you weak, and you know what he's thinking about.

He can get you dripping with the sound of his voice and now he's got his hands down there it's all stacking up to be exactly how he imagined.

"You're so fucking wet," he breathes over your lips, starting to move his middle finger slowly. He takes pleasure in the way your eyelids flutter, especially when he runs his finger through your puffy, wet centre.

Your body shudders with his right hand buried in your shorts and his left holding your waist. His grip gets tighter when you start to squirm, almost like he's afraid you're going to run away.

But you can't and you won't because you're just as desperate as him, now tilting your head back up to his, lips drawing closer. He smirks and indulges you in another head spinning kiss.

And that's when things start to get a bit hazy.

Your breath intermingles and you can almost feel the arousal radiating off each other with every touch, and his finger starts to dig a bit deeper inside you, fingering you to the rhythm of your hot, breathy kissing until he's knuckle deep.

Your lips disconnect momentarily and you look between your bodies, seeing how he's got you pinned and defenceless, clothes pushed aside for his ministrations. And his clothes are on. His shirt pulls tight over his heaving chest and you notice his well fitting pants are looking... tighter than usual.

But you find his fingers under your chin, tilting your face back up to his. He doesn't want you to focus on that right now.

"Look at me."

He starts moving his finger a little faster while he drinks up all of your body.

And you realise now, in this heated and passionate affair, that father and son may have a commonality when it comes to love.

They're greedy.

And Megumi is willing to risk his neck to take all he can get from you.

He savours every hushed whimper you release each time he slides his finger in and out.

And he gives you a hot smirk, with his knee pressing your legs wider, his body overwhelming yours completely, and you feel a second finger pushing inside.

"One more.." his spare hand snakes up your body, over your shoulders, finding the back of your neck to pull you closer to him.

"You can fit one more, right?"

You're going to puncture your lip in a moment if he doesn't let up, with the way you're having to bite it closed.

"Mhm~" you nod quickly and he sinks in.

"Good girl."

He starts fingering you rougher now, making your thighs shake around his knee which is basically propping you up. And he watches you struggle like this for a moment until he gets fed up and drags a chair over, shoving it under your butt.

"Sit."

He commands and strips off your shorts fully.

If Toji walks in now you are well and truly fucked.

You can only watch in silent anticipation as the man before you gets on his knees.

He can feel your body start to tremble with excitement as he places kisses up the inside of your thighs. Your hands instinctively find his inky, messy hair and he gives you a look of seduction that makes your spine arch stupidly.

He watches you squirm for a moment longer, holding onto your legs, watching your pussy leak all over the chair.

And he realises how touched starved you are.

"He really doesn't do it right, hm?"

You shake your head slowly.

He gets closer, breathing over you until he can't take it and just has to taste you, and you moan in unison. Your hand flies to your mouth, his moans muffled by your pussy, and right now, you're so glad the radio is on next door or Toji would be hearing every last breath.

You try to quiet yourselves down, your excitement and pleasure turning into hot, shaky breathing. But you can't help the occasional sound that slips out. When he kisses you there, right on your clit, it feels like he's meant to be here.

And he goes slow, kissing building up into gentle licking, until he's making out with your pussy and your hands are pulling on his hair. That only makes him get rougher, more worked up, until his tongue is relentlessly circling you, and you're taking each other higher until your thighs are squeezing him and he knows that you're about to get off.

And he stops.

Going back to slow, needy kissing. You give him a shocked look, like you're scandalised.

He smirks and builds you up again.

But you can hear Toji banging around next door, fiddling with his car, and you're petrified he's going to come in at any moment. You hear him stepping around the garage, getting closer to the door, then heading back, almost like he's pacing around in there.

Realising you're distracted, Megumi sucks on your clit and nearly makes you yelp. He grabs you harder and slides his fingers between your legs, pressing at your pussy while flicking your clit with the tip of his tongue.

He slides two fingers in, making you gasp, the combination of fingering and licking getting your body shuddering instantly.

And he lets you have it.

He lets you cum all over him.

He hums and watches you ride his fingers, and after all his dirty, filthy thoughts, imagining how you sound, how you look, when you're cumming, he gets to witness you.

And you're so much more beautiful than he imagined.

He wants to see you do it over and over again.

But one will have to do for now.

And he gets a long one. Thanks to his edging, you're going for what feels like a full minute, squeezing his fingers and holding your jaw closed so tight.

And he's so impressed that you're not moaning his name.

"You did so well..."

But he's desperate to hear you, sooner rather than later, so he slides his fingers out, cleans you up and puts your clothes back in place.

The next words that leave his mouth are in the form of instructions.

He tells you exactly what to do.

The best option for avoiding any suspicion.

He'll tidy up the kitchen.

You'll go for a shower.

Once he's done, he's going out to the gym.

He'll cover your tracks.

Toji will step out into the front garden, smoke, and head to bed.

It's neat. It's tidy. And it'll work.

For now.

But you know, between now and your inevitable second encounter, you're going to have to tread very carefully.

megumi

[suguru-getos]

| Brat in her place | Ayato Kamisato x f!reader |

-> Been a while, I miss Waka 🤭 and I had so much fun writing this little prompt! Warnings: ruined orgasm, edging, he eventually decides to let you cum again tho kekeek.

“If the cunning rabbit burrows thrice, what of the cunning human?” You remember Ayato saying this to you once, when you asked if he has other— cards up his sleeve apart from the Shumatsuban. Being the high lady of the Kamisato clan, the wife of the head has it’s own highs and lows. Ayato was always kind to you, except when he’s not. That’s a rare predicament but you don’t mind it, infact— your behavior sometimes encourages it.

“Ah, Thoma! Your cooking is exquisite as always.” You beamed at the lunch table, having luncheon with Ayato and yourself. Ayato didn’t mind it, you were right of course. “I wonder if I could keep you all to myself.” This sentence, caused the housekeeper to flush hard, while irked Ayato’s reaction too. “Why of course, he is— kept by me.” Ayato corrected you, while you clicked your tongue, knowing you managed to get the territorial man exactly where you wanted him to be.

“Yes, of course Waka.” You nodded, sipping another slurp of the radish mixed veg soup and half-moaning at how your tastebuds danced with the aroma & delicacy. Granted you wouldn’t be this bold if it wasn’t only Ayato and Thoma in the room.

Thoma beamed with a cheerful grin, trying hard to ignore the way Ayato’s body language had changed from a welcoming to a commanding one. Oh boy— he felt as if he was in a Retainer meeting. Not good—“I’m glad you liked it, my lady. If you’d excuse me now, I have something to take care of.” Thoma bowed and left, making sure you don’t get a chance to stop him. If anything— both of the men knew you were in a mood today. A fiesty mood.

“Quite bold of you, to be so thorough with the sounds your little mouth makes when you enjoy something.” Ayato remarked, clicking his tongue and glancing towards you. “You jealous?” You bit back, maybe biting off more than you can chew.

“Me? Jealous? Well—” Ayato sounded almost surprised, a grave chuckle escaping his tight knit brows. “No, darling. I’m not jealous over your antics. I know completely these are nothing but parlor tricks to get my attention.” Ayato shrugged, taking a sip of the radish veggie soup. “No one can please you as good as me after all.” There he was— the spoiled, bratty Yashiro Commissoner in the flesh.

“Maybe I could, make it up to you… remind you how good my touch feels in every little crevice of your dainty little body. Or— maybe I could remind you of your manners, hmm?” Ayato’s fingers tilted your chin up, ensuring your eyes met his. Siren, glazed with flames of lust and dominance.

You gulped, evading eye contact at the statement. You could almost feel dizzy at the intensity with which Ayato was handling this. Fuck— you were clamping around nothing.

One thing led to another, Ayato asked if you’d like to be reminded of something— you agreed & now you were sitting pretty on his lap, legs spread and locked with his own in the way, back pressed snugly against his clothed chest and his heavy breaths sending jolts down your spine. Ayato had worn his gloves back, you know he does that when he’s in a mood to punish you, to put you back in your place. To remind you who you belong to.

He’s been at it for hours, lazily rubbing and strumming at your swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves while leaning his hand away as soon as he sees you cumming. You know Ayato is determined because he’s not left for his study since the lunch. You’ve been reduced to a babbling mess. “Yato— Please, please— s’ too much.” You wiggled against him, like a tied up bunny.

“Hmm, I know. It is too much for me to see you brat up so bad.” He hummed, sighing at the shell of your ear. His hot breath fanning over the earlobe just right, just enough to rise you to the apex of pleasure while he takes it all down. Leaves you tumbling down to nothing; then rakes it all up again.

“Yato— please- Waka Sama! Please!” You whimpered, feeling the pain in your clit getting used to the rigorous edging. It was then, that your body betrayed you, a mind melting orgasm coursing through every nerve ending as you whimpered, leaning your head back against his chest and rutting your hips for more—

Ayato leaned his hand back, again—

Cruel…

“Ah, going to have to ruin this one. Sorry, my love. You must know better than to ask for permission from your husband, who owns you, who takes care of you, who—” you were sobbing now, irritated at the pleasure seeping through your fingers and whimpering for more.

“Who puts you in your place.” Ayato completed his sentence, kissing your cheek and leaving you be. “Please— please I wanna cum. Yato— I’ll be good, so good for you.” Now you were truly begging, truly submitting to him like he wanted.

“Oh I’m not sure about that, you see— my wife is a force to reckon with. Even I know she can’t simply follow orders—”

“Yato— Please.” You quaked, lips quivering as you glanced up at him like a kicked puppy.

“Fine, I’m not that cruel now. At least, not to my one and only.” Ayato took off his gloves, a sign he’s pleased and this is all over. A sign of intimacy as his fingers raked their way through your over-edged cunt. “But remember— good girls.”

“A-ask for permission.” You gasped out, completing his sentence.

“That’s a good girl.”

[kneelingshadowsalome]

i KNOW i might sound insane, but what if vampire! Engel sets up traps around her isolated dark castle to capture any animal that is unfortunate enough to step on one of them, because she swears to not ever consume human blood and swore to only consume animal blood

and vampire hunter! König unluckily (luckily??) stepped on one of the bear traps, and she heard a scream from outside, so she went out to check and SHE SMELLED the smell she tried so hard to hide herself from

And she just kinda stood there, drooling and saw a very big BIG man, she thought it was a bear until he pulled out her dagger and pointed it at her, while panting in pain

IDKKK ITS GIVING ENEMIES TO LOVERS? STRANGERS TO LOVERS????? I worte this ina hirry because im about to cry thinking about it

Oh god the angst exploded in this one… sorry not sorry but these two are just UGHHH

König thought he was getting rescued when he heard the sound of soft footsteps. His stomach sinks when he sees this is not the case: his situation is far more dire than he thought. Not only is he stuck in an old trap and about to lose a foot: he's being hunted by the most dangerous, most beautiful little predator he has ever seen.

She's prowling, hungry and keen, crawling barely ten feet away from his sorry corpse-to-be. Her eyes glow in the darkness as she licks her lips; she's looking at her prey like a cute little house cat, dark and treacherous and extremely curious. He can't understand how those perfect hands could've managed to set all these traps: they look so dainty and frail. But looks can be deceiving when it comes to vampires. She's probably stronger than an average human male.

He can't hear her thoughts, which must be filled with the desire to drink. He doesn't have to: any vampire hunter can see that this one hasn't eaten properly in a while. Her lips are pale, she's breathing fast, she even moves on all fours like she's either too afraid or too weak to stand. Her fingers curl around the moss as she looks at him; her body almost trembles with anticipation.

When he draws his blade, she lets out a hiss and recoils further into the shadows. He's a pathetic mortal and a weak man for mourning the loss of that pretty little face and those lovely, enchanting eyes. He knows that she's a vampire, she's supposed to seduce her victims, but he can't help his sinful thoughts.

No woman has ever looked at him like that…

No woman has ever prowled upon him, it's usually the other way around. It won't take tremendous strength to kill this lovely little creature, but it will take a tremendous amount of willpower, a thing he used to have in abundance before he met her.

"Shy one. Did you set all these traps?" He asks and lowers his blade. The woman slinks back into a beam of moonlight, now standing on her own two feet. Her hips sway like in a dream, her red little tongue darts across the pale, bloodless lips.

"Who else if not me?"

Her voice is cool, cascading silk. It's calling him in like a siren song, forcing him to lower his dagger even more. She's dressed like an angel, in the purest white. A cruel joke from a vampire, or a desperate attempt to recall who she used to be when she was alive.

But her eyes are innocent – she's either the most cunning vampire he's ever met or then she's trapped, far more badly than him.

"You like to torture your victims?"

His question leaves the creature blinking. Then the curious eyes narrow to slits, the confused, hungry little mouth begins to pout.

"No. The traps are not meant for humans."

"No…? Why am I caught in one then?"

"Perhaps because you're clumsy."

She's cute when she's annoyed. Vampire charms or no, she lashes out so tactfully and elegantly that he cannot help but smile. What a proud, stubborn little creature… She's a sad, lonely little thing, just like he is. He would love to take her home as a pet.

His eyes must be softer when he smiles because it throws the vampire off guard. She takes a curious step towards him.

"If I set you free… will you leave me in peace?"

Her eyes are big and pleading now, free of any deceit, and he curses in his mind. If she's trying to allure him into another trap, it's working far too well.

"Ja," he tries to keep his voice even, "But if you try to drink from me–"

"I don't drink from humans."

"...Why not?"

There's no answer. But she takes another step, then another, then floats down to help him out of the huge trap meant for game. Her suspicious eyes dart to his blade every now and then until he decides to sheathe his weapon. The old hunters would deem him dead after this, but he can only concentrate on the woman before him. Her weak frame summons an immense amount of strength to open the trap.

The scent of blood must be like opium to her as the fresh wound on his leg becomes exposed. Her nostrils quiver and flare, her eyes flutter closed as she sighs softly. For that sweet, soft sound alone, he would open his veins for her himself.

"Fräulein… Are you alright?" He asks while bleeding profusely all over the ground. If she attacks him now, the culling would be well earned. No man should be this weak-willed.

"You… You smell good," she moans, her voice filled with so much longing that he can't take it anymore.

"Scheisse... Listen. One bite. Ja? You can have one bite and then I'll–"

Darkness and light envelop him all at once.

She dives forward like an eager lover, her body cold and frail and yet, so demanding when it hits him like the softest tide. He falls back, taking her with him, the vampire woman who is everything he ever wanted.

Her lips tremble on his neck for a while before she opens her mouth and sinks her tiny little teeth in. What else can he do but clutch her – in pleasure and in pain as she drinks and drinks and drinks until he's hard and groaning under her. The pain in his leg turns into full, ecstatic pangs of rushing blood, his ears are ringing with the song of it.

All he can feel is her. He can feel her relief and her hunger and the quick but quenching thirst, it makes him so happy his heart is about to burst.

The shy little lady is all but fearful now. She doesn't seem to care that his hands are roaming across her back and all over her waist. No: she hums and purrs with delight, attaches to him like she's in desperate need of a release too. She hasn't had a hearty drink in ages, then. He's glad to provide it for her: death is a small price to pay if he gets to hold her like this. If she kills him in these woods, it will be a good way to go.

"You don't… drink from humans, ja?"

He tries to laugh, but his voice comes out as a dry croak. The body above him goes tense like a bowstring.

"Don't be shy, kleine Engel," he rumbles when a pitiful sob disrupts the drinking. He only holds her closer: if these are his last minutes alive, he will spend them with this woman in his arms. The reassurance works, in a way: she draws breath so fast that the last gulp turns into a suck. It forces his whole body rigid; nothing has ever felt so good. But then she stops, and lets him go with an agonized, heartbroken look.

Vampires can't cry, that's what he was taught long ago in the academy. The demons of the night are to be hunted because they can never shed a tear for their sins. But this angelic creature, now warm and full and lush in his embrace, has tears streaming down her face.

"What did you call me?" She asks with a frail, thin voice. The white shadow above him is made of pure light as his senses begin to fail. He barely discerns that she looks more healthy, even more mesmerizing than before now that she has had her fill. He whispers his last words into the night air, just before losing consciousness.

"An angel…"

It's dawn when he wakes up without ever expecting to do so.

Someone has kept the beasts away during the dark, dangerous hours of the night. His wound is treated and his water can is full when he comes to. She has even brought her some bread and cheese on the forest floor. Stolen, no doubt, from some local homestead. The only evidence of him holding her in his arms last night are the two little punctures he finds on his neck. Small, neat and cute, just like her.

It doesn't help to know that vampires rarely leave their victims alive unless they wish to come back to them. It doesn't help to know that the reason for their return is usually the desire to turn the victim into a vampire – into a companion.

He should pursue and hunt her, but he's too weak. Or that's what he tells himself, at least. Deep down he knows he wouldn't do it even if he was in his prime.

After all, he could never kill an angel.

[call-sign-shark]

The Woods Whisper || 2/2

Summary: After a terrific nightmare, your and Arthur’s life change for good. You start to suffer from a mysterious and excruciating hunger, which always seems to lead you to the forest.

Words: 3.5k

TW: Extreme violence, angst, cannibalism, graphic depiction of mutilation, graphic depiction of murder, gore, ehh dubcon

Notes: written for @peakyswritings's 2k celebration and Halloween. Nina belongs to her. + important notes at the end and no proofreading because we read like warrior here.

Reader is Heaven from the series Heaven in Your Eyes.

When the heavy doors of Arrow House opened, revealing your dainty frame bathed in the pale moonlight that reflected on both your silvery mane and the whiteness of your fabulous outfit, all the guests' eyes opened wide in surprise. If there is one thing they did not expect it was you participating in the dinner Tommy's new wife, Nina, had organized. While not particularly comfortable with hosting an event, the young Italian lass had wished to consolidate the family ties, missing the warmth of her own since she moved to Birmingham.

The shock of your presence did not come from resentment but rather surprise since you carefully did your best to avoid any social contact for the last couple of weeks. Getting used to Arthur coming alone to family meetings or celebrations had been utterly odd considering how symbiotic your relationship was, to the extent of becoming a physical and emotional dependence most people deemed unhealthy and vaguely unsettling. Yet, they never dared to inquire much about the matter.

The reason behind their discretion wasn't a lack of curiosity, but rather how the lanky gangster waved off the questions by replying with vague and stern explanations about some unnamed sickness that kept you in bed. Moreover, his dissuasive growls and murderous glare had been enough to keep tongues shut. But among the family and acquaintances, one soul couldn't be fooled by empty excuses and it bore the name of Nina Ferrante Shelby. The cunning dark-haired girl reckoned that the two lovebirds had been trying hard to hide an ugly truth she couldn't pinpoint yet, but her sharp eyes noticed a few details everyone else had missed.

It had started with Arthur, whom she saw compulsively readjusting his shirt's collar in an attempt to make sure that most of his flesh was well-covered, protected from indiscreet eyes. Where Tommy believed he was hiding some hickeys, Nina's honey glance caught sight of the swollen and reddish edges of a deep wound carefully hidden under the fabric of his shirt the moment Arthur had turned his head to look at Finn and rebuff him in a condescending older brother way. When his steel blue eyes met Nina's, he understood that she had seen the scar and quickly readjusted his collar, clearing his throat in embarrassment before bringing her attention to another topic but it was already too late. He had just confirmed her suspicions by doing so. The second alarming detail she caught was when she came to your house following Arthur's announcement that you were sick. She noticed how your eyes had changed since your last encounter, shivering at the way their aquamarine color had mysteriously turned one shade paler. Not only did they become almost white, but their black pupils were covered by a milky veil that rendered them as blank and glassy as a decaying corpse's. As much as Nina liked you, connecting with the wild and untamable nature you both shared, her blood would instantly run cold in her veins each time her gaze met yours: the loving and knowing looks you would often give her had turned into a dizzying void: all she could find in your eyes was emptiness.

But what had startled her the most hadn't been Arthur's odd behavior nor the disturbing abyss of your clouded eyes, but rather the frozen and disturbing something that radiated off you. In truth, you had always been surrounded by an ethereal, cold, and otherworldly threatening aura. A part of it was certainly due to your unusual appearance and your frozen beauty though. Yet, as you passed by her tonight, Nina knew it was different. You might have looked the same, dressed in a seductive and revealing dress adorned with expensive gold jewels, but apart from your familiar appearance the Sicilian nymph couldn't recognize you anymore. Worst than not recognizing the only friend she had made in England, Nina couldn't understand why her whole being reacted with unexplainable spikes of panic each time her skin grazed yours. It was as if her unconscious could foresee the monster that was lurking behind your seraphic complexions even before her eyes could.

As the dinner dragged on, Nina grasped the visible discomfort that had been growing on your face. The more minutes passed, the more you looked as if you were about to snap.

"Are you okay?" The Italian beauty mouthed, but the only reply she got was sheer silence. Overwhelmed by your bottomless hunger, you were trying your best not to let the delicious scents of human flesh get the best of you. Staring at the void, you nervously rubbed Arthur's thigh under the table and completely ignored Nina, far too busy trying not to think about her exquisite tan skin. Would she taste as sweet as the honey of her eyes? With his attention caught by the friction on his thigh, the gangster quickly glanced at you, concerned, and gently pressed his large and warm hand on yours in silent support. He knew you were starting to lose your patience.

"Can't you make her shut the fuck up?" Your siren-like voice, colder than Everest's snow, echoed in the room with such a caustic tone that Ada opened her eyes wide, an expression of pure shock on her doll-like face when you cut her off that bluntly. So bluntly even Nina, who was aware of the colder nature you hid from the rest of the world, couldn't help but almost choke on her wine.

"The hell is wrong with you, Heaven? She's a baby and sometimes babies cry! What a surprise!" Ada was quick to reply, instinctively hugging her newborn daughter closer as she cradled her. Elizabeth had been uncontrollably sobbing from the moment her big brown eyes had met your dead gaze. They said babies are more sensitive to silent threat, you know. Agnese once told Nina. Her cries, piercing and nerve-racking, had worsened the insufferable famine that howled inside of you. Not hiding your annoyance anymore, you rolled your shoulders to ease the tension of your stiff body but it didn't work, "I'm serious Heaven. You should consider getting used to it if you want to give children to Arthur one day." Ada lectured with one raised brow, making Elizabeth hop on her thighs to try to hush her. It didn't work. You dug your sharp nails into Arthur's thigh in reply, feeling your self-control break down at the child's exciting sobs and Ada's mouth-watering perfume. Arthur let out a low-key growl and squeezed your cold hand tighter.

"She's been screaming into my damn ear for God knows how long, Ada. Don't you think I've been patient enough? Isn't it enough for you to calm her down?" Your voice was hushed, barely above your normal tone, and yet its anger resonated loudly. Each word was carefully pronounced with a tense stillness between them, cold, sharp, and cutting like a razor slicing through the air, "So either you make her shut the fuck up..." You growled, the raging storm coming, "Or I'll bash her fucking head against the table!" You suddenly commanded, standing up so violently that your chair fell behind you in a noisy thud.

" Arthur!" Ada screamed, astounded and furious at your insolence.

"Arthur! Can't you control your wife?! Oh Arthur! Can't you put a damn leash around her neck?!" You cut her off, hitting the dining table with your delicate palms. All the plates and glasses clinked. Silence fell upon the room, the family now looking at you in a combination of fright and surprise. Even Tommy, who never missed an opportunity to fight with you, found himself petrified by your rage. It was even more surprising considering how you weren't the one to lose your temper easily, rather leaving this behavior to your husband. In other circumstances, Nina would have giggled for when she talked one could often hear revolution, but it didn't make her laugh. Quite the contrary. She stood up at the same time Arthur did, and gently put her warm hands on Ada's shoulders while the lanky gangster wrapped your waist protectively and pulled you closer.

"Please Ada, don't take it personally," Nina started, "Heaven's been struggling to sleep for weeks, that's just the fatigue talking. Right Arthur?"

"Right." The oldest Shelby brother mumbled, "C'm'here angel, you're going to rest a bit in one of the guest's bedrooms ay." And without further ado nor apologies, Arthur hurried on and led you out of the dining room, quickly climbing the stairs of Arrow house to lock both of you in another wing of the mansion. "Okay you calm down now. Told ye it was a bad idea." He urged, his calloused hand cupping your face to keep you focused.

"But Nina worked her arse off for this party. I had to come." You grunted through gritted teeth, all of them sharp and pointy except for the upper and lower central incisors, "I feel like I'm becoming crazy." Pushing Arthur away, you started to pace in the bedroom while pulling your hair back. The gangster's eyes followed your every move, heart racing in his chest as he witnessed you becoming more and more feral and mentally unstable. He knew he had to do something before you slipped into another murderous craze, as you did the night you came back covered with fresh blood.

When Arthur exited the room he was as white as a ghost. Wobbling on his long legs, the gangster made a few steps before he had to lean against the wall so as not to fall on the wooden floor of the corridor. He had lost so much blood that he was pale and sweaty, a confused look etched on his face. With his breathing shallow and ragged, Arthur knew he was about to faint at any minute. After a quick but rough fuck, he had cradled your dainty body in his arms while your teeth broke his skin and muscle — He didn't let it show, but he had almost passed out twice. Bringing one trembling hand to his forehead, the gangster let out a shaky sigh as he relished the cold sensation of his rings against his burning skin.

"Take." A ghostly female voice resounded in the hallway, making him turn around in one vivid movement that instantly made him regret doing so. He grunted, the drowsy feeling worsening, but as black dots appeared in front of his eyes, he could still recognize the charming silhouette of Nina who was handling him some chocolate squares. Her magnificent amber eyes curiously gawked at him, then at the red stain on his disheveled shirt he didn't even button up properly, "It would be a shame for you to die the night I hold my first party here. And Tommy wouldn't be happy about that."

"Fookin' hilarious, eh." Arthur grunted but still took the chocolate, quickly putting two squares in his mouth. Not that it would be the first time Nina would see him collapse on the floor, usually drunk as fuck, but it just wasn't the same. Fortunately for him, sugar did its miracle and he soon retrieved color.

"Eat everything, stùpitu. It will do you good. My whole lineage would probably pray for you if they ever see how slim you are." Nina stated quietly, but asparkle glowed in her cunning eyes. Her brother-in-law raised a brow but obeyed, eating the rest of the chocolate before quickly slicking his hair back to tame the wild locks that had fallen in front of his face. "Now you gotta tell me what's wrong with Heaven."

"For fuck's sake," Arthur growled and rolled his eyes, visibly annoyed by Nina's insistence, "Told ye, she's sick." And that was all he said, already turning his heels to leave but Nina managed to grab him by the wrist before he even moved, her small hand firmly tightening its grip around him.

“Enough with the bullshit, Arthur. I heard uncle Charlie and Curly talked days ago. They said you came at night with three half-eaten corpses, asking them to help you hide them!” She retorted more bluntly than what the gangster expected. Astonished by the girl's temper he shot her a murderous look from over his shoulder. It didn’t seem to impress her — not in the slightest. Danger wasn't Arthur Shelby to her, it had been Stefanor Spinetta and a forced wedding. Now that she was far away from those two threats, nothing seemed to sincerely scare her anymore, "Look at you! Do you think I'm stupid or blind?" Her fingers clenched around his wrist even more, clinging to his warm freckled skin, “She’s not herself and you know it! Look at what she did to you! What happened to her?”

“Piss off, Nina! That's none of your fookin' business ay.” He snarled, teeth bared like a rabid animal about to bite. If she hadn’t been family, he would have probably gone for her throat but, instead, he just snatched his wrist from her with one violent movement that almost made her trip on her own feet.

“Vaffanculo!” Nina not being afraid of him was one thing, but her throwing herself in his arms to tear his shirt apart and expose his chest was another. He had tried to push her but she had been too quick. Arthur stood there motionless in the dim-lit corridor, mouth agape, and steel blue eyes wide open as Nina stepped back, one of her hands covering her mouth as she saw them. The dozen red and swollen bite marks on her brother-in-law's neck, shoulders, and torso. A whispered prayer escaped from her charming lips as her honey-pools eyes surveyed the wounds, some of them indicating that his flesh had been ripped off. It was a miracle Arthur didn't already die from pain, blood loss, or infection.

"Nina, love." He started, his voice soft and quiet as if he was cautiously trying to approach a wild animal, "You shouldn't tell anyone alright?" Arthur made one step towards her but she backed off in reflex, terrified, "Not even Tommy alright? You know he'll try to cure her with a bullet between her eyes."

Arthur and you left Arrow House in a hurry, right after Nina had lent him one of Tommy's shirts. She didn't know why she helped, but she did, probably feeling guilty of discovering something she shouldn't have.

It has been three days since the disastrous party, and since then you refused to leave your house, afraid of losing control again. Three days during which you remained curled up on the sofa, your blank eyes staring at the hearth. Arthur had been outside since the early morning doing God knew what, so all you did was keep watching the fire and trying to ignore the whispers. Its dancing flames, casting their orange glow on your face, didn't even manage to warm up your dying body. Absent from your own mind, you didn't even hear Arthur coming, nor leaning against the door with his arms crossed, observing you with undescribable worries shining in his loving eyes. His throat tightened with frustration at how powerless he was starting to feel, not able to do anything except watch you slowly disappear until all remained was an empty carcass only animated by hunger and bloodthirst. Somehow, he hoped what he did in the forest would soon bring you some comfort.

"Angel," he called, walking towards you and putting one gentle hand on your shoulder. He had barely touched your skin when he backed off, your iciness biting him as if he had just dipped his hand in liquid nitrogen. You looked at him, offering him a tired smile -- a smile that was only expressed by your lips curling, for your cloudy eyes looked desperately devoid of life.

"Oh, your skin's warm. It feels good."

"Come on, we'll take a hot shower." He said, pressing a kiss on your head and helping you stand up.

"Hm." You didn't protest, in fact, you let him handle you as easily as a lifeless doll until you were both in the bathroom, Arthur's skilled hands running down your shoulders and making your nightgown fall at your feet. All you did was shiver with cold, goosebumps adorning your marble skin at the frost that had settled in your bones. "I'm cold, Art..."

"I know, love." His gravelly voice slightly trembled as his fingers roamed over your protruding ribs. With thick eyebrows knitted together, Arthur let out a long sigh, "You really need to eat." He said, the palm of his free hand caressing one of the pointy bones of your hips. Still, he found you as stunning and mesmerizing as he always did.

"No, I don't want to kill another family." You retorted, pursing your juicy and glossy lips together like a sulking teen. Not that you felt any kind of emotional empathy towards your victims, but it wasn't a pleasant experience either if omitting the gargantuan pleasure of finally feeling satiated for a while. The most annoying part had been eating their daughter, no matter how tasty, fresh, and juicy her flesh had been. With that being said, you turned your head to the other side to deny him a kiss. Arthur grunted and pushed you a bit more impatiently into the shower, frustrated by your bratty behavior, which didn't disappear despite all the changes you've been through lately.

"And I don't want to see ye starving yourself," He scolded, joining you.

“It’s freezing!” You hissed, not even noticing the suffocating steam that accumulated in the shower nor how reddened your husband's skin was at the places where the burning water rained down. The feeling of it on his freshest wounds made him grit his teeth but the pain didn’t keep him from staying in the shower with you.

“It’s burning hot, love,” Arthur replied, his gravelly voice softened, filled with undeniable concern at your inability to properly feel the temperature. Noticing that you were quite literally shivering despite the hot water pouring on the two of you, the gangster’s slim arms wrapped your waist and pulled you closer to interlock your bodies. Each of your curves and shapes perfectly melted into each other, like the pieces of the same jigsaw. Only when you crashed against him you let out a sigh of relief, your shivers suddenly disappearing, and Arthur’s natural warmth spreading under your skin, crawling to your icy heart.

You hugged him back softly. Then tighter. More, I need more of him. Then so hard that your nails broke the skin of his back, scratching him until his crimson blood stained your growing claws. A hoarse whimper escaped from his trembling lips, halfway between pleasure and pain. Lately, your relationship has been filled with pain. So much pain. So much blood. You hurt him with teeth and claws, and you ate his very flesh, but to Arthur and his mind, which was sinking as deep as yours, it felt like true love.

"You don't want to kill ay," He mumbled between two kisses, "Fine, I'll do it for ye hmm?"

"No, it's not your role to do th—" He didn't let you finish your sentence, moaning as you scratched his back again, leaving long and red cuts on his flesh.

"Listen, little one," He grunted, one hand pressing against the wet wall of the shower to keep his thrusts steady, the other grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him right in the eyes, "I'll do anything for ye. Any-fucking-thing."

"Ow!" You winced when Arthur hit a painful spot inside of you but suffering quickly blended with pleasure.

"I'll let you eat me own flesh y'know." He growled again before stroking the fragile skin of your throat with his hungry tongue, the caress of his mustache sending shivers down your spine, "But you don't want that ay? And ye don't want to kill either but love, the truth is ye need to eat fookin' human flesh hm. Fuck—" He slammed his hips more fiercely, your love-making looking more like savage breeding than anything else lately. One might even wonder if pleasure was really the goal behind it, or if you were trying to see who could hurt the other the most, "So I'll —slam— fookin' —slam— hunt fresh meat —slam— for you. For us."

"Arthur! St— Stop." His sudden roughness startled you, making you momentarily snap from your emptiness. Surprised and overwhelmed, you tried to gently push him away in order to make him stop, or at least, to make him slow down his merciless pace but he didn't.

"Don't." He hissed in your ear, the tip of his nose bumping against your cheek and his scorching breath fanning over your skin. The faint and familiar whiskey scent would have usually lulled you if your sharp senses hadn’t grasped the metallic smell of blood. "I said don't.” He repeated on a firmer tome, letting go of your chin. His free hand was now firmly grabbing one of your butt cheeks to keep you from pulling your hips away from him.

You screamed at the sharp, searing pain that jolted through your body like lightning, sending a wave of raw sensation crashing against your neck. The violence with which Arthur had bitten your flesh was a shock, the intensity so sudden and overwhelming that for a moment, you felt lost in a world where pain was the only constant. His lips curled as blood gushed from the bite, tainting your immaculate marbled skin with red trickles. Eyes rolling back into his head as pleasure washed over him, Arthur hummed. "No..." You whined, panic coursing through your veins as you slowly understood the reason behind his absence earlier and the erratic behavior he was displaying. "What the fuck did you do?!" You yelled at him, struggling in his arms and whimpering at the same time, assaulted by his relentless thrusts and trapped between his body and the shower wall.

Nevertheless, you managed to slip one trembling hand on the back of his head while he relished the sweet taste of your ambrosia blood and the tightness of your sensitive walls around him. Gathering your remaining strength, you pulled him by his wet hair to free your neck from his bleeding and starving mouth. He hissed like a wildcat it reply. "Why?! Why did you do that, you bloody idiot?!" Your agonizing and furious screams seemed to work some sense back in his head though. He finally slowed down, now barely moving. In fact, he just rolled his hips sensually against yours, which resulted in a wave of pleasure that eased your pain and made you feel comfortably full.

" 'Cause I love you.” He stated, “Remember what we said when we decided to get married?" His crimson lips curled in a twisted smile, beads of blood clinging to his mustache. "If you suffer, I'll suffer. If you die I'll die," He repeated, like a proud schoolboy who had learned his lesson by heart. A gloomy and obsessive one. "And if you starve, I'll starve..." A glimmer of madness sparkled in his eyes. As the moonlight enlightened his face through the window, its deathly glow casting antlers-shaped shadows behind him, the darkness of his pupils faded from his eyes, losing their usual depth and color for an empty fog. “And if you hear them, I’ll do it to.”

“Hear what?” You murmured, fingers loosening their grip in his hair.

“The woods’ whispers.”

notes: You’ve reached the end of this story, congratulations! Admittedly it didn’t come out as I wanted first but it would have been far too long and I didn’t feel like writing a whole new series. Also it was supposed to be more graphic. When referring to the Algonquian myth of the Wendigo there are two ways to turn into one: either by dreaming of it like Heaven, who was plagued by its spirit since she was young, or by eating human flesh. This explain why his transformation is faster than Heaven’s. Upon discovering what she suffered from, Arthur decided to eat human flesh and turn into one not only to share her pain, but also to remain by Heaven’s side forever. He knew that her new condition meant she would live quite eternally and didn’t want to leave her alone. The ending is open: it’s up to you to what the woods are whispering to them and also what happens to both of them after this. Thank you for reading this disturbing Halloween AU!

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

✞ Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @alexandra-001 @dearshelby @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @peakyltd @chaosinkest1996

[hexblooded]

obligatory daemon!au time

I'll leave the list and reasonings under the cut

Eddie - Gyrfalcon

They're closely tied with nobility, really good hunters, no nonesense birds, they're very efficient, independent and a tad teritorial.

Susie - Eurasian Lynx

Freaking gorgeous and very dangerous, I don't need to say more but I will, they're resourceful hunters and resilient, kind of loners.

Freddy - Hawk headed Parrot

Funny little guys, they're social and like attention, very vocal and expressive, a little scatterbrained.

Sabrina - Island Fox

She's a sly fox and there's that. They tend to live in tight-knit families, adaptable, confident and cunning.

Bobby - Mandrill

They're hierarchical and cliquish, also very bold and self-serving.

Johnston - Waterbuck

Proud and competitive but cautious. Elegant little fucks.

Tamsin - Jackson's Hornibill

Social and bold, very charming, also a little dramatic.

Jimmy - Big eared Bat

I just thought it was cute. Go with the flow, calm and friendly.

Rosanne - Rufous Hummingbird

Pretty and dainty and fit for a princess but confident, proud and opportunistic.

Jack - dalmatian

Loyal, energetic and impulsive. Look mean but are soft. (I almost gave him a boxer for the joke)

Charlie - Hercules Moth

I don't know much but the vibes I get are calm and gentle, like they'd give good advice lol.

Geoff - Crow

Smart, loyal and cooperative.

[stvharrngton]

catch me when i fall

a/n: request from @jjwantsme ! thank you for requesting, i hope you enjoy 🥺

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 1k

warnings: none really, just fluff

summary: reader’s a little clumsy

taglist: @sweetiestevie @dukesmebby

Clumsiness was your defining trait. Always tripping over thin air or your own two feet. Your limbs tangling together as your arms flailed in the air as you ended up in the ground more often than not.

You had a habit of breaking things too. A smashed glass an often occurrence as you waved your arms as you spoke animatedly. Much to your dismay, it was what you were known for. The one time Steve’s parents were home for the holidays, you trailed behind your boyfriend through the front door as you caught Mrs Harrington locking up her expensive china and vases away from your offending hands.

Steve though, forever doting and glued to your hip, was there to catch you more often than not. His fingers outstretching to grab your arm as he saw you beginning to take a tumble. The boy priding himself on his quick reflexes, but more the fact he couldn’t bare to watch you hurt yourself.

You tried your best to not let it bother you, how clumsy you were. Feeling your cheeks heat up and your lips jut out in a pout every time Steve stopped you from falling. You couldn’t help it, it’s just the way you were. But that didn’t stop you from laying awake at night feeling like you were a burden to your boyfriend.

Steve knew how you felt about it, of course, he could read you like a book. He always insisted that it was no trouble, that he wouldn’t want you to scrape your knees or cut your pretty little hands but it was no use.

Until a random Thursday afternoon when Steve had called your place at 10am sharp asking you to be ready by 12pm and to wear his favourite sundress of yours. A cunning plan to whisk you away to the park, down the dirt path and beyond the bushes to your favourite spot. A picnic basket and cooler placed in the back seat of the BMW.

You walked hand in hand down the track, fingers laced together as Steve’s sunglasses were perched on the bridge of his nose. A sweet love-sick smile plastered across his face. Your eyes glued to the floor, watching your step for any stones or rocks that might cause you to trip.

Steve watched you fondly as his gaze turned to you from beneath his sunglasses, his heart swelling at how adorable you looked. Tongue poking out as you focused on trying not to fall over.

Scuffing his Nike’s over a stone he clearly didn’t see, the boy too focused on his pretty girlfriend, his heart fell to his stomach as his eyes shot wide open. A yelp escaped his chest as he began to fall to the ground.

Your head shot up at the sound, your hand instinctively reaching out to grab Steve by the arm. Dainty fingers wrapping around him tightly and pulling, catching him before he could hit the dirt.

“Shit, Steve, y’okay?” You asked him, doing your best to hide the giggles threatening to spill past your lips.

Steve’s cheeks were a little flushed, the skin heating up from the sun he decided. He brushed his palms off on his denim clad thighs, his head turning to meet your concerned but albeit amused gaze.

As soon as you both looked at each other you burst into a fit of giggles. Steve belly laughing opposite you, a smile so wide it reached his ears. A matching grin tugging at your lips as he clasped you on the shoulder.

“Come on,” he said between breaths, his stomach hurting from the laughing fit. Steve laced his fingers back between your own, pulling you down the dirt path once more.

You soon reached your usual spot, Steve placing the picnic basket on the ground, laying down the blanket for you both to sit on. Still giggling to yourself over Steve’s almost-trip, you spoke,

“You know,” you huffed, trying to catch your breath from all the laughing, “it’s usually you having to stop me from falling.”

You sat down shoulder to shoulder next to Steve, your legs bent beneath you as your fingers thumbed the hem of your dress.

“Sure is,” Steve said with a grin, his lips pressing against your temple.

The laughter soon died down, that burdening feeling taking over once more. You gnawed on your bottom lip, your stare focused on the pattern of the blanket. Steve noticed your silence, the way your eyes turned a little sad.

“Isn’t it annoying?” You said before Steve could ask you what was wrong. Nose wrinkling as your gaze flitted up to your boyfriend.

Steve’s brows furrowed together, a look of confusion painting his features. “What’s annoying, baby?”

“Y’know, how clumsy I am,” you mumbled, “having to watch out for me all the time. Surely it’s annoying.”

“What?” Steve guffawed, “You’re kidding, right?” He pulled his sunglasses down to the slope of his nose, warm brown eyes boring into your own.

You shrugged your shoulders, “No? I don’t know—“ your eyes fell back to the blanket, your fingers tugging at the grass surrounding you.

“Baby,” Steve hushed you, “c’mere,” his arms wrapping around your body, pulling you into his lap. You sat between his legs, your back to his firm chest, his chin hooking over your shoulder as he pressed soft kisses all over your cheek.

“S’not annoying,” he started, “I’d do anything to keep you safe and if that means catching you every time you fall then so be it.” Steve said with a fond flint in his eye, voice soft and calming. A gentle reassurance.

“You mean it?” You asked, leaning into the boy’s touch, his arms wrapped around your waist, his nose pressed into your cheek.

“‘Course, baby,” he chuckled, giving you a light squeeze, “you’re my little clumsy girl and I love that. I love you.”

You giggled loudly, squealing as Steve peppered kisses all over your face, his fingers digging into your sides.

“Love you too, Stevie.”

[pieroulette]

AS THE RED SUN BLOOMS

[ 赤い太陽が咲くように ]

CHAPTER 1: 炎 (Flame) — short teaser

2023 | 18+ | SERIES | NISHIMURA RIKI (X READER)

SUMMARY scent of sweetened florals bouncing off the tatami mats, ashes of coals puffing up to the air, and pale pink petals falling down to their glory and onto your shoulder as you were greeted by the servants of the famous Nishimura family—for whom you would start working for their confectionery shop from now on despite language barriers, cultural differences, and social status.

GENRE coming-of-age, historical romance, 18th century Japan/Edo period, slow burn romance, drama, angst, graphic violence, family, reader isn't a Japanese in this story.

WORD COUNT : 1.7k

WARNING FOR (CHAPTER 1) : prostitution (red light district), graphic violence, profanity.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this is just a warm-up practice for me, since I haven't posted in a long time 😭✋🏻

• bold dialogues means the characters are speaking in Japanese.

2003 [ PRESENT DAY ]

"So, Lia. Who's your role model and why do you want to be like them?" the teacher asked with a hint of enthusiasm in her voice.

The young girl, slightly abashed—spoke in a voice like a whisper. "My role model.. is Grandma."

"What is her profession then? What did she do when she was young?

"S-she's a.." The young girl looked down, fiddling the hem of her sleeves before finally speaking up.

— • —

Yoshiwara District - 1803 [ Edo Period ]

"Bring me the finest lady you ever had here!" the deep voice of a man in a kimono exclaimed amidst the joyous atmosphere in the main quarters.

A high pitched voice of a woman answers back, clearly delighted by the man's call for attention.

"Ah, milord! Which lady would you like for us to bring you for your prosperous day today? I couldn't be any happier to serve you." red lips and flamboyant jewelries adorned the woman's hair, a smile so bright yet so cunning.

With his chin resting on his palms, a lazy look presented on his scarred feature, his right hand raises an index finger gesturing towards the girl from the farthest corner of the room, standing still and obedient; you.

"That young lady, how much is she worth?"

"Ah! Our (Name)-" She looks at you elated as ever, gesturing for you to come forward, "What a perfect timing! She has reached 18 this year, if you want, you could get her for a cheaper price. Yet, I have to inform you that our dear (Name) is unable to speak our language, milord."

"Why so? Hasn't she stayed here for years?"

A smirk blown past the woman's lips after tucking your hair locks behind your ear, revealing your features to the man before you.

"For taming purposes, my lord. A lady of her worth should be able to obey without any difficulties.” the lady suppressed a giggle with an index finger against her red lips, “A yes, a hush with a finger, come here, go there, do this, do that—such simple commands with the help of your finger have no need for her to speak, she must only obey. Likewise, her serving you would be a better way for her to use her mouth in a better use." The woman eventually lets out a dark giggle, brushing her red tinted lips with her dainty finger much to the man's amusement. "Use her as you wish, milord. Should she escape from your hands, no need to break a sweat for no one would help her and she, too, could never utter a word to anyone to understand her."

“She’s perfect to be your one and only doll, sir.” one of your mates came, swaying her hips and hand as she said so.

— • —

"What is this, such a beautiful sweet!"

"Right? It looks like sakura.."

"I heard the Nishimura family is starting to grow in fame because of the delicate sweets they made, plus the competition to make sweets for the royal family are getting closer. I'm definitely sure they could win!"

High pitched voices from afar, laced with definite enthusiasm yet you couldn't understand a thing of the ladies' conversation, making you look like a turtle isolated in your dark shell.

Yet, somehow, the simplicity of this well made sweet in the form of sakura kind of soothes your heart. The pattern has intricate, careful, pushed in curves that resembles a sakura.

You wonder how it tastes, and so you pick the sweet up between the tip of your fingers—placing it onto the tip of your tongue. It's bitterness spike your tongue almost immediately as it touched it, making your eye crinkled and your eyebrows furrowed—yet suddenly the sweetness hits you like waves of the sea washing over your body on the shore.

Like the bitterness of the golden sun setting away from the glory of the sky, only for you to be hit by the epiphany that it will soon rise tomorrow again—akin to the sweetness.

Somehow, somehow, it felt different—you clutched your chest from where your heart let out a tiny rampant of thuds.

Your dark orbs look down to see the folded paper on the wooden platter and your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the eccentric look of it. So you leaned forward, picking it up and just as you suspected, it wasn’t a paper used for sweets, almost as if it was a paper used for calligraphy.

Words on paper. Your eyes widened instantly at the realisation.

— • —

"Huh, seems like your eyes had grown somewhat feisty in it? A flame, huh?" He playfully slapped your cheek, as usual.

You opened your mouth, for the first time. "Right, I want to live. That's why."

"What?"

A gut wrenching scream echoes around the quarters—alerting everyone from their respective business. Scattered footsteps approaching from afar and up the hallway—what met their eyes when they frantically slid the door open was you holding the tip of the hairpin against the man’s neck, who was now caged inside your frail arms.

“You- You can’t do that! You can’t do that!”

“Fuck! She won’t understand what we’re saying!”

“Say something!”

“D-darling, hush.” The head of the brothel stuttered, spreading and extending her visibly shakened arms—gesturing for you to come forward, shaking her head slowly, sweat trickling down her powdered cheek and forehead, “That’s n-not right.. Darling!”

A foreboding silence ensues, pushing a magnificent pressure down everyone’s head.

— • —

High above, in the clouds, birds fly so high till they burn their feathers and fly across the blazing rays—signifying the return of the scorching orbs accompanied with the touch of white droplets on your freshly burned hands reaching out for help.

Clouds on the grey sky brought white particles down the ghost quiet town, for people are still in their home asleep. A carriage strolled over at a steady pace across the street. Blooming white consumed the entire pathway, making it difficult for it to pass smoothly—making the old man hissed at the obstacles ahead him.

Yet, his snow-stained feet pauses.

“Am I seeing this right?..” rubbing their eyes and slowly narrowing to the spot of where your unconscious body are laid.

— • —

The massive roof-like mountains adorned with intricate patterns and on its tip rising up akin to a blade, lion statues standing before the gates as if to guard them with their ferocious fangs and the lush garden standing tall, trees so high its branches can be seen behind the gates—as if there were tiny fairies sitting on top of the branches, observing you with lit up orbs.

It gave off absolute serenity as the wind flowed past your hair yet the sight of the sliding door from afar gave you somewhat an uneasy feeling of what is going to happen now in the nearer future.

"I am Yuma." he gestured toward himself. "Yu. Ma. Yuma!"

"Jo! Come on, introduce yourself."

"It's not like she could understand us either."

"Still!"

"This is Jo." Yuma gestured his palms in front of the disinterested tall boy.

"Is she mute or what..?" Sana tilted her head in confusion.

"I don't think that's the case, honestly I had no idea." came Momo who took a bite from the peaches in the basket.

Yuma shaking his head in utter devastation, look over his shoulder only to see a certain someone. "Oh, Taki! Why don't you come over here?"

— • —

You stepped closer to the edge where the breathtaking scene of red fall petals consumed the land, scattering all over the roof and everywhere you could see.

“The current generation of the family now consists of the head, his wife, and their three children.”

It caught your attention, “Three? .. That’s alot.”

“Yes, the eldest daughter, Konon. Graceful and kind, she's the apple of the family's eye. She had a childhood friend who she will marry this fall, not only that, her future husband's family is wealthy enough that it could support the Nishimura's business.”

“Their second daughter and the youngest one is Misola, she turned thirteenth a few months ago. Energetic and beaming as the sun, just like how she should act her age, she often fools around so don't mind it if she randomly comes and pulls her silly pranks on you.”

“I won’t mind.” you said without much thought.

“Finally, their middle child and only son; Riki.” Taki snorted which confused you, “That kid is really tall, and somewhat eccentric than most. Quieter than his siblings, yet he had this humorous vibe that he only shows among those he was close with. Since he's the only son of this family, he's set to inherit this family business."

— • —

White strips wrapped around cut hands and fingers, reaching up to touch the dangling purple florals. Silky black hair with blonde highlights reaching down his neck—blending with the sun rays, robe like coal with an inner white shirt, and a muted blue hakama. Hanafuda earrings, adorned with round red sun with rays swaying along the wind.

"Riki."

"Yeah?" yawning with arms stretched upward, the young man turned with features beaming as the sun, lips pulling up in the brightest smile as he walks forward with the glowing purple wisterias brushing against his face.

"You're neglecting your studies, again."

"Um, did I?" The young boy mumbled, avoiding the intimidating gaze of the older man. "O-oh! I heard there are new apprentices and servants set for the shop, our job is gonna get easier from now on!"

"Quit slacking for once, Riki."

"Yeah, yeah." Riki rolled his eyes, “By the way, how long would it take before we get home though?”

“Judging by the weather, it would take us three months at best.” the middle-aged servant answered, “It will be summer by the time we arrive, milord.”

A long deep sigh emits by the younger boy, “That sure takes long, ah. I just want to slip in to my futons, already.”

“Well, that’s what you deserved for annoying the master."

— • —

With the folded paper on your palms, you look up to the red sun blazing against the freezing winter rain.

"You see, learning how to make wagashi is only for the apprentices.."

You nodded, waiting for him to continue.

"You, as a mere servant, and even more so—as a new one, are quite hasty and too fast to request for something so bold. The master said so." Taki shrugged, "But he didn't say no. He said.. that you have to do your work first."

Your dark orbs sparked as the sun rays from the sky blended with it.

“He would ask his son to teach you and the rest of the apprentices instead, for the sole purpose of evaluating his skills and to train him further.” Taki raised his index finger, swaying it.

"How long.. would it take?"

"Summer, the master's son will be back by summer. Till then, be patient."

"Right, I'll be patient." you nodded in an enthusiastic manner.

"By the way.." you look up to Taki with curiosity adorning his features, "May I ask why do you want to learn how to make wagashi?"

— • —

[ CHAPTER 炎

1: (Flame) ]

— • —

© talesofyuan on tumblr | 2023 | all rights reserved.

🏵️ AS THE RED SUN BLOOMS MASTERLIST

[doodle-pops]

Unforgivable

Maglor x reader

Request: Oh oh, can I have some angst with my baby Maglor. I know this troupe is overdone but I love it so, a Maglor x fem! reader where he departs Valinor and leaves his wife behind. Maybe he begs her to come along? I'm excited to see what you'll create, thank you 💕💕 - Anon

A/N: Oh boy did I enjoy writing this! As you said, I wanted to take a different spin on the usual troupe and make it a lot darker. Our magpie is far from sweet and charming here. Turned out his skillful voice has other usage aside from singing.

Warnings: manipulation, Maglor being cunning and deceitful, mentions of blood (lots of times because it's a kinslaying), weakminded reader, heavy angst

Words: 1.1k

Synopsis: Vows were never meant to be broken and Maglor would ensure you fulfilled yours.

“So you’re not following?”

“Why should I? I don’t have a reason for needing to leave my home behind.”

“…So you’re simply going to forget about us then? All the promises we made!”

Falling silent, you knew he was right. You gave him your words, your vow, on your wedding day. It wasn’t the first time he dangled them over your head like some unforgettable prized object. As his spouse, it was your duty to follow him until the end, to stand at his side through all his rights and some wrongs. You were a married couple, and a relationship was hard work in progress— always learning about one another as time flew by. So, this was simply another hurdle in your life you needed to overcome. All he was doing was motivating you and providing the missing support to win. Once again, he was proving to you that you needed him, you couldn’t survive on your own without him. He was your stability.

“Makalaurё, I…I—” you bit your lips as you felt the tears growing the building pressure. His stare, erratic breathing, the crimson coating his silver blade which twinkled under the torches, his sternness, his everything. It all made your heartstrings tug towards guilt. How could you possibly tell him you didn’t need or want to be with him anymore?

We are soulmates Y/N, you can’t be without me. We have to be, so come with me.

Gasping as you heard his voice in your head being whispered like a dainty flower dancing in the spring breeze, you looked up to meet his hopeful eyes glowing in the dark. While they appeared hopeful to you, underneath was a loose and crazed nér. A nér that was ready and capable of dragging you off whether you wanted to come with him or not. He couldn’t be without you, not when you were his entire life and the air that he breathed. You walking away meant death for him and he wasn’t ready for that. There was an oath to fulfil.

“Makalaurё, I don’t know. I don’t have a reason to leave Araman behind,” you begged in accordance to reason with him. Your throat was closing up as though wire was wrapped around it, tightening with every second you doubted.

Shaking his head and stepping forward, his bloodied right hand reached out to touch your clean, unblemished skin and tugged you closer. His grip remained on your upper arm, firm and secure, while his eyes blazed with the eternal flames. But those flames were doused by the coolness of his soothing fëa, brushing against your own. It felt like the cool rain on a spring day Manwë would bless the earth with. But you also saw the passion and his desire to have you with him at all times, and his voice portrayed the rawness, “Yes you do, me! You will never leave me, you are not to ever leave me. You need to be at my side, to keep me going. I will not leave you behind.” The growls and trembles in his tones raised the goosebumps on the back of your neck and down your arms. His words of passion and fire penetrated your heart and fёa unlike the many times before.

The hand that gripped your upper arm, trailed higher until it cupped your cheeks, sweeping a trail of blood across the perfect white you adorned yourself in. Moving in closer, he breathed in your scent of fear and stored it in the deepest parts of his memory. The sword in his left hand remained locked within his cold fingers as it rose to rest behind your back for a hug. Your face buried into his sturdy cerise armour, now being painted with the blood of the innocently fallen. “You know you need me darling…and you know I need you as well,” he cooed in despondency and hurt, but the tightening of his arms around your shoulders did not.

“Makalaurё…but my family, the people…”

“Shhh, worry not about them. Your family is us— you and I, remember? We’re married, you and I, that’s all that matters.”

You were still smaller than him. Noldor he was and ever so giant their race was, you felt like a child being consoled in his arms.

His melodious and poisonous voice poured into your ears and corrupted the very fibre of your being. Moulding your moralities and standards to match his and become dependent. It was like a spider leading it's prey into a web. . .of lies or the sweet honey bee being drawn in by the perfumed scent of a deadly flower, masked by it's beautiful parade. Standing your ground was never an ability you were capable of portraying, not when your sweet and loving husband was there to speak for you. He would take the lead as he always did, your knight in shining armour. Though, it didn’t matter if it was bathed in blood at the moment.

“…If I go with you, everything would be better and we’d be a family, right? No more killing?” peering up at him with your doe eyes, your tears brimming were your lashes.

Exhaling, he looked down at you and lifted your chin to meet his determined stare, “I promise. This was just an accident, you know we didn’t mean to do this. I told you before, I’m sorry, yes?”

You nodded your head once slowly, then twice before it broke out into multiple rapid nods. Feeling a tear cascading down your cheeks, you reached to wipe it away but he beat you to the action. Smearing more blood across your face, he removed the crystal that stained. “Okay. I just don’t want anything horrendous to happen again. We are leaving Araman for a better life,” you supposed.

Needing to complete your statement with the ultimate act of reassurance, he pulled away from you and dragged his crimson hand down to your wrist, tugging. Granting you the smile that you first fell in love with upon first sight, he tenderly pulled you along the flooded street of lifeless bodies to the docks. It appeared as though a tsunami plumaged the city and all along with it, destroying the stunning iridescent silver and pearls, the blues and green of the ocean and pinks of the sunset. Nevertheless, none of that mattered as Makalaurё led you through the streets with honey in his smile and the future in his eyes. “As long as you come with me, all that you wish for between us, will be. If you just follow me,” he artfully whispered.  

You could have sworn you saw a halo around his head as he fed you hollow promises and guile. And you followed him with an optimistic, mindless beam, swaying along and dancing to the tune of his untruthful song. Like an aimless flower, swaying in whatever direction the wind may blow it, he carried you along. From the depths of the city to the root of the evil, he led you into darkness and misery; footsteps blindly trailing and leaving behind all good things to the greatest mistake you had ever made.

Masterlist

Taglist: @spidergirla5 @lilmelily @eunoiaastralwings @noldorinpainter @ranhanabi777 @mysticmoomin @rain-on-my-umbrella @starborne0661 @floraroselaughter @singleteapot @asianbutnotjapanese @justellie17 @justjane

[behindthesoul]

Be Silent, Sorcerer

Shang Tsung x Quan Chi

Masterlist

Summary - In the garden of Shang Tsung’s soul, where betrayal sews thorns, a delicate bud emerges. Its unexpected bloom opens a new door for his relationship with Quan Chi.

Word Count - 1,828

Warnings - mental breakdowns

A/N - Takes place after Shang Tsung and Quan Chi find out Damashi’s true identity. Also, thanks to my beta reader Eevee :)

“You are the victim of deceit, sorcerer.”

Even after an hour or so, the words keep ringing in his ears. Each time they repeat, they sting just a bit more. Shang sits in the remnants of his laboratory, a place that once represented his wit and cunning, now a burning reminder of his foolishness. Shang’s eyes are dull, his chest tight. His hands reach up to run through his hair, but only add to the frustration when they get caught in tangles. They then fall down, letting out a sound when they collide with his torso.

Shang had to hold his composure as best as he could. He wouldn’t dare to let Liu Kang and his minions witness a moment of weakness. Why give them more leverage than they already had? As soon as there was a moment of downtime, Shang ignored the faces that looked at him with disgust and ran to his lab. Its smell of death and despair was intense, the cries of prisoners enough to rupture the eardrum; neither managed to register in Shang’s mind.

He storms around the lab, finding himself unable to stay in one place. His mind is scattered across the room; attempts to find it are futile. Shang continues to race around the lab to find the last thing that keeps him together. Quills, scrolls, small miscellaneous items are thrown across the room during his search; no dice. The small items are followed by a chair, a lamp, even one of his examination tables. Shang’s face reddens as his hands tremble in grief and exertion. He inhales, exhales, but his breaths are too shaky to calm the frustration that begins to rise in his body.

A small light reflects in the corner of his eye. It’s one of the many beakers used in his tarkat experiments. Many restless nights were spent slaving over his desk, desperate to find a cure. Shang huffs in bitter amusement at the fact he stressed over this disease for, ultimately, no purpose. If only he could go back in time and tell his past self that he was being played. An invisible magnet draws him over to the object, and he gently picks it up. It’s chipped at the rim, presumably from being thrown to the ground. Dainty fingers spread across the beaker, cold and uncaring; they press against it as if he intended to bring harm. Shang’s breath hitches as his eyes close, imagining that his hands were wrapped around the throats of everyone who dared to conspire against him.

Shang is almost deafened by the sudden footsteps he hears. They aren’t too loud, but the reverb of his laboratory heightens his hearing. There is no need to turn and see who dared to interrupt him. He listens as the familiar legs clack against the ground until they stop in front of him.

“Quan Chi,” he simply states, voice laced with ire. Anger they both shared.

Quan Chi hums, seemingly pleased that he was recognised without Shang Tsung having to open his eyes. “I seek peace, solace from today’s events.”

“And you thought to find respite here,” Shang adds.

“Correct.”

Shang finally opens his eyes to fully drink in the image of his friend. Quan Chi stands tall, a few inches above him, and looks relaxed with his arms behind his back. Shang opens his mouth to say something, but the words are lost on him. He decides to not pollute the air with pointless rambling so the two could share a comfortable silence. Shang watches as Quan Chi walks over to a chair he threw earlier. The sorcerer picks it up and sets it upright before sitting down, sighing in relief after being on his feet all day. Shang takes a few steps back, the added distance giving him the courage to speak.

“I pride myself on my keen foresight, yet I was unable to realize we were just pawns.” Shang’s face twists into a disgusting scowl. It’s an expression that is foreign to his normally smug face.

“The wool was pulled over both our eyes, Shang Tsung.”

Shang shakes his head in anger, the emotions from earlier seeping out of his body. His fists clench and he takes a deep breath.

“Liu Kang will pay for the life he cursed me with. He will regret blessing me with mercy.”

Shang looks over at Quan Chi. His friend’s eyes are laced with an unknown emotion. He silently pleads for a response that would give context to Quan Chi’s facial expression but receives nothing. The two men continue to stare at each other, and Shang can only understand the emotion as pity. Whether Quan Chi truly pities him or not is unknown, but it’s the answer Shang decides to create.

One could almost feel the heat rising from Shang’s shoulders. Its smoke pollutes the air, making it thick and hazy. It suffocates, but Quan Chi is used to poor conditions like this; he doesn’t move at all.

“Shang Tsung,” Quan Chi begins. Shang doesn’t react at all – his eyes are too busy burning holes in the ground in front of him.

No response. The air gets thicker and thicker; it would surely kill anyone who walked in. Quan Chi can see Shang’s nails dyed with blood, a result of digging his nails into his palms. Quan Chi stands and eventually makes his way toward his friend. His efforts to grasp Shang’s attention are in vain, it appears as though there is a compelling force redirecting his attention away from Quan Chi.

Curious, Quan Chi grabs Shang’s chin and forces eye contact.

“Not once have I seen you lose control of yourself,” Quan Chi didn’t mean to offend with his observation, but Shang’s jaw tightens as he feels insulted.

“We were promised the world; instead we received humiliation.” Shang’s voice, once strong and confident, sounds weak and sad. “My wish was to share them with you; rule them as one.”

“And I, you,” comes Quan Chi's soft voice, comforting his companion immediately. Whatever emotion Shang felt in Quan Chi’s eyes is gone; it’s replaced with kinder, softer ones. “We – you deserve much more, Shang Tsung.”

Shang tries to look down but a strong hand keeps his head tilted up. Emotions begin to flood the damaged well of his heart. If Quan Chi wasn’t paying attention, he’d miss the signs of the tears’ arrival: fingers gently shaking, blotches of red attacking his pale cheeks, and torment clawing its way out of his chest. Quan Chi doesn’t know what to do, there’s not much he can do; emotions were never his strong suit. Shang pulls away and starts to pace the room. His hands shake more, and eventually a vase that survived his earlier breakdown is thrown against the wall, breaking and falling in sync with fresh tears. Shang chokes back violent sobs as a table is flipped, a window is broken, and a wall is punched. His poised self is well out the broken window, replaced by a man whose eyes are so bloodshot he looks like a beast.

Quan Chi is silent once again. He doesn’t know if he should calm the man who is now pulling at his hair, or allow him to feel his emotions. Shang’s breathing is rapid; one could almost hear his heart beating out of his chest. Quan Chi didn’t think it possible for Shang to hurt this much. He slowly extends his arms out for a hug, not knowing what else to do. Shang rushes over to Quan Chi and collapses in his arms, the sheer force of his weight knocking them both to the ground. He sobs, almost screams into Quan Chi’s shoulder. Shang’s arms hold the man tight; his fingers digging into his companion’s skin. Both are sure that Shang drew blood, but neither cared.

“I am not sure what to do next,” Shang chokes out, burying his face in his friend’s neck. He feels his stomach twisting. He brushes it off as a symptom of his overwhelming emotions, but knows it’s due to being in such close proximity to Quan Chi. He felt his feelings grow for his fellow sorcerer over the last few months but was quick to bury them. It only makes sense that his desire for the man would return with the rest of his emotions.

Quan Chi lets out a deep sigh of agreement. “Neither do I, my friend.” Friend, that word burns Shang’s chest. “But, hear me, Shang Tsung, when I say I shall face any adversary at your side. Forever.”

Shang slowly raises his head to look at Quan Chi. Shang’s face is wet, but the tears are slowing to a stop. Quan Chi’s hand moves to dry his face and huffs in amusement when Shang replaces the tears he dried with fresh ones. The air becomes charged with an unspoken tension as the two find themselves relaxing in each other’s presence. Their breathing, unbeknownst to them, slowly syncs, creating a harmonious rhythm that resonates with the quiet intensity of the moment. There wasn’t much either man could do other than stare into each other’s eyes. They had always been masters of restraint, keeping their feelings guarded like closely held secrets. Tonight, however, something was different.

As they sit in the laboratory, the echoes of Shang’s anger from earlier in the day linger in the air. The conversation since had flowed effortlessly, each word a bridge leading them closer to a place neither had ventured before. Shang can feel his heart beating a little faster, his palms slightly damp as he tries to navigate the uncharted territory of vulnerability.

Quan Chi, usually composed and self-assured, seems equally affected. His eyes start to hold longing, mirroring the emotions Shang had been suppressing for far too long. The unspoken tension simmers beneath the surface, the magnetic pull between them growing stronger with every passing moment.

A gentle breeze sweeps through a broken window, carrying with it a subtle scent of blooming flowers and the promise of change. The atmosphere seems to conspire, urging them to break free from the shackles of their own inhibitions. The ambient noise of the laboratory fades away as they move closer, the space between them diminishing with each heartbeat. Quan Chi could smell a faint hint of sweat on Shang’s body.

His hand stays on Shang’s face, guiding Quan Chi as he goes in to kiss Shang, the latter slightly gasping in surprise at the movement. The kiss was nothing special; clumsy, unsure lips moving against each other, showing that neither man had much experience in the love department. Their sloppy rhythm slows to a stop as they both pull away. Shang feels dazed. The feeling is welcomed after an hour of rage.

“A friend,” he starts, and Quan Chi listens intently. “You call me a friend, but your actions say otherwise.” Shang grins, “I fear you do not understand what a friendship is.”

“Be silent, sorcerer.”

[princessofmerc]

Max: I’m gonna call him princess. That one’s gonna burn

George fans: He’s so right about it. He is our princess. Our pretty petty princess, he is dainty, he is cunning, he’s the princess