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roseykat · 11 months

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TITLE: Venom Biter

PAIRING: Minho x reader

SUMMARY: The end of a relationship between you and Minho turns as sour as it could ever get. A lovers to enemies trope.

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won't be able to regulate every single interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work or page whatsoever.

TAGS: breakups, hate sex, post-breakup sex, unprotected sex, swearing, angst, manhandling, push and shove, spitting, choking, oral sex (f!reader receiving), angst, strong hints of degradation, use of degrading names such as 'slut' and 'whore'.

A/N: this was originally meant to be for one of the days I had planned for Kinktober but I was up to my neck in work and I didn't want to post something sort of half-assed so I had to hone down on most of the work for this piece.

MASTERLIST

“Broke up?” Chan’s eyes refuse to blink. “You two broke up!?”

His confused filled stare shoots for the direction of his best friend, Minho, who quietly sits opposite him across the table. He looks slightly withdrawn or…off colour. It can’t have been the gruelling two hour lecture they finished before heading out to lunch. If it were that, Minho would be complaining his head off saying how boring it was or cursing himself for not changing his minor earlier.

He’s just not his usual self. In other social settings, he could talk until the cows came home. But the entire hour that they’ve spent together at lunch, Chan has been doing all the conversing and only receiving vague one-word answers. It wasn’t until he asked what was up with Minho that his friend dished out the news that he and his girlfriend - you, had split up.

“Why?” Chan proceeds, still swimming in shock.

A sigh leaves Minho’s mouth. He truly doesn’t feel like revisiting this subject. When he even thinks about the answer, all he can recall is the firey shouting match you both had the day things crumbled.

“It’s messy,” he replies with a cloudy and ambiguous answer.

“If you talk about it, then it might help you make sense of it all.”

He groans this time, “I really, really don’t want to do that. What’s done is done.”

“Done?” Chan questions, still not letting up on an interrogation. “You were in a relationship with Y/N, for years. You guys talked about a whole future together. That’s not something you just sweep under the rug and forget about.”

If there’s one thing he almost did forget about, it’s that you were friends with him - not just Chan, but the seven others as well. After all, it was Minho who introduced you to those select people whom he calls his brothers. They would’ve found out eventually if Minho refrained from telling them who you were dating all those years ago.

Though naturally, you became very close with them.

“We’ve both chosen to do that so there’s nothing really much left to dispute.”

Chan’s eyebrows furrow, realising he left out a crucial question to the situation, “why did you guys break up in the first place?”

Minho feels like he’s going to run out of sighs, “she doesn’t love me anymore and I don’t love her anymore. That’s literally all there is to it.”

“You’re telling me you both fell out of love - at the same time,” Chan responds, still having a difficult time trying to comprehend his friend's situation.

“Pretty much,” Minho confirms with a nod.

Chan finds that extremely hard to believe from his friend - the very person who would enter a different realm whenever he was in a five centimetre radius of you. His eyes would glaze over as if he were possessed; always fixated on you, he’d smile more than he usually would, and was comfortable in the space around you.

There had to be another reason, surely.

But it had almost been three weeks since Chan dissected the news out of Minho, and it was almost like pulling teeth trying to dive for the details. Each attempt was as fruitless as the next and in the end, Chan just plucked the same answers.

Regardless, it seemed to play out better than expected. Minho saved himself from having to dish out explanations as to why you wouldn’t be around anymore. As a result, telling Chan was the best option and since the others didn’t know, Minho was okay with him telling them so that he didn’t have to.

In saying that, Minho left out very central details of what happened leading up to the breakup. He never mentioned the constant fighting, the lying, the false accusations, the shouting matches, up until the point where you were both swimming in the toxicity the pair of you created.

He also absconded from the fact to Chan that not only did you both separate, but you’ve also both come to view the other differently and not through a good lens. Minho shouted it in your face the other day to which you did the same; “I hate you.” And that was that.

But his friends probably didn’t need to know all of that.

Since that day, you’ve been in the process of trying to find an apartment for yourself which isn’t easy. You want to remain in town and not too far out so that you don’t have a long commute to work, and at the same time, you don't want to break the bank trying to find a nice place to rent in the city. All in all, it was tough, but you were ready to just leave.

Having packed up the majority of your stuff in boxes, all you had to do was wait for landlords to contact you back about possible vacant apartments. Thankfully Minho was lenient in allowing you to stay until you found a place.

You slept in the spare room, mainly keeping to yourself and the boxes of things surrounding the space. Occasionally you would have to lock yourself in there and throw on some noise-cancelling headphones whenever Minho brought around another woman to sleep with.

It was his house, you knew that and now that you have no ties to him and he’s letting you stay, it was never your place to question his actions.

Still, that could never lessen the hurt. It was painful which is why you hated him so much. You don’t know how a person could move on so quickly after so many years of being told how much you’re loved. It was like he never meant it. With that being said, when you eventually managed to find a decent place, you were free from Minho.

All of your items were ready to be moved out, taking a couple of days to actually get them to your new place. In the tiring process, you also had to factor in your work schedule which meant it would take longer to continue moving your stuff. Nonetheless, you had the majority of your boxes out of Minho's house with only a few remaining that you needed to swing by and pick up.

"Something wrong?" he wears a blank look on his face when you arrive on the doorstep to his house.

"Some of my stuff is still here, can I come in to grab it please?" You ask politely. He gives a silent answer in return by opening his door wider for you to walk in before he goes back to whatever it was he was doing.

You make your way into the spare room where the last of your things remain, but there is one odd detail you notice as you approach the items. What was supposed to be taped down lids to the boxes had in fact been opened; not in the state you had originally left it in.

"Minho," you call out, hoping he heard you.

Sure enough, he did. Minho walks into the spare room with a puzzled expression, wondering why he's been summoned, "what?"

“Why are these open?” You ask, lifting one box off of the other to check if the rest were open as well. “Half of my stuff isn’t in here.”

“You were coming back for those?” he replies with a question.

“What the hell else would I be coming back here for?”

“That's what I thought when you got here,” he says. “I thought it was for other things that you left behind, not ones in these boxes."

Your eyes never leave his face, tracking any sudden shifts in his muscles to try to figure out if he’s actually telling the truth or not. Even though you and Minho aren’t together, you're sure he wouldn't do anything malicious out of spite.

“So why is half my stuff missing?”

Minho pinches the bridge of his nose, “I thought you didn’t need any of it and that you left it here on purpose for me to deal with or throw out.”

“So what…” you trail off, expecting his answer. Minho hesitates for a few moments, sitting on the fence about whether he should actually tell you or not. But the least he can do right now is be honest.

“I told the…girl I bought around the other day that if she wanted anything-“

“No you fucking didn’t.”

“-she could have whatever was left in the boxes,” Minho finishes the rest of his sentence which would’ve been better for you not to hear.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What the fuck is wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with you for leaving them behind in the first place!” Minho argues back, trying to defend himself here even though he knows he’s in the wrong. “You were gone for a few days Y/N, I thought you just left!”

“I never left them behind! I told you how long it was going to take my things to move!” You shout at him, tears brimming your eyes. “Now my stuff…”

The hurt genuinely sets in. Minho feels a sharp stab of pain in his chest when he sees how visibly upset you are. He knows that he’s been nothing short of a dickhead within the past month and now he’s gone and made things worse. It’s no point in him now to say that it was an honest mistake.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know, truly.”

You shove him backwards into the dresser, knocking down some of the empty photo frames that were once homes for pictures of you and Minho, “you’re not sorry. You’re the fucking worst.”

Taken aback by your actions, Minho turns behind him to see the frames flat on the surface then looks back at you, “seriously Y/N, I would not have done that out of spite.”

“But it’s the fact that you still did it!” You raise your voice at him and shove him back again. “You didn’t bother calling or texting me about it when you should’ve!”

Minho predicts your next move and catches your arms to stop you from pushing him back impossibly further into the dresser. He shoves you back, the back of your knees hitting the edge of the bed which causes you to land on it behind you.

Before the surprise kicks in, Minho is kneeling on top of you, nearly straddling your lower half as he starts pinning your arms to the side of your head. Yet with a split second of momentum to break free, you struggle but manage to flip the tables and pin Minho on his back.

You mount his hips before your mouth comes down to kiss Minho so aggressively that it takes him a moment to react. With any other woman that he’s slept with so far, he would allow them to be on top. But because it’s you, and supposedly hates your guts, not to mention his untapped pride, it’s not going to happen. So Minho fights back, kissing and biting nearly every part of your upper body in the process until you’re under him.

He sucks large, deep, red hickies into the skin of your neck, in places where everyone would be able to see them. Minho would want people to know that you’re just a whore he uses. Especially for the next guy you sleep with who would go down on you and see the myriad of hickies that Minho would eventually put between your thighs when he rips your pants down.

“Wanna play this fucking game with me,” he rasps before yanking down your off.

Despite being a dickhead Minho will still eat you out for prep. But it’s not soft and teasing when he does go down on you. It’s tongue and finger fucking you until you’re dizzy from how hard you’re about to cum. It gives you the opportunity to pull and tug on his hair until his scalp starts burning, forcing you to be as vocal as you’ve ever been.

His fingers curl up into that sensitive spot while his tongue and mouth work simultaneously. He’s always been good at giving head, but unusually better now that he’s relatively angry. In the back of your mind, you supposed it helped having not slept with anyone for a month, making it easier to reach that peak of delicious, eye-rolling ecstasy.

“Fuck!” you scream out, voice projecting throughout the room as Minho sucks on your clit. “Fuck you…you’re gonna make me cum.”

Those words are something Minho could never get tired of hearing you say. Even in the headspace that he’s in now, he wants nothing more than to hear how good he’s making your body feel. However, he doesn’t need verbal confirmation from you to know that you’re about to cum. When your walls seize and clamp around his fingers, when you’re trembling around his head, Minho knows what that means.

The quick drag of his fingers is only light work for him, pumping at a pace that has you panting to try and keep up with it. As a result, it’s not long before Minho brings you to your sweet release; a toe-curling burst of euphoria that has you silently creaming around his fingers.

He has no patience for you to descend from your orgasm, sucking his fingers clean as he pulls away from your pussy. He gets to unbuckling his belt faster than he can even comprehend that this is still happening.

“H-Hurry,” you whine, trying to quell the hunger for Minho’s cock while you wait.

His eyes squeeze shut, hissing as he coats his length with your slick, “shut the fuck up.”

Despite being in a haze post-orgasm, you manage to sit up quickly to turn and push Minho down by his shoulders. You find yourself straddling his hips once more, reaching down and behind for his cock, aligning it with your hole. Minho allows you to work for it yourself, watching his cock vanish by the second as you sink down.

“Mmm…f-fuck,,” you whine, unable to come to grips with how much you miss him filling you out.

Taking a couple of slow strokes up and down allows you to realise that never in your wildest dreams could you ever imagine hate sex with Minho would be this…rough. Both of you pushing, shoving, and manhandling each other around, speaking to each other with such disregard for the other person's feelings – beyond the point of degradation.

“Come on,” Minho grunts, fingernails embedding themselves into your hips so that the indents remaining become as equally as vibrant as the hickies blooming on your neck.

You look down at him with disgust before your hand lowers to his throat, choking him out by the sides of his neck. That familiar feeling of restriction to Minho forces him to repress his sick enjoyment of it, even more so when you start really riding him.

“Fuck you,” you strain out, trying to assert some degree of control even though you’re battling with oversensitivity from your previous orgasm.

You slam your hips down repeatedly, building up a good pace and rhythm that’s enough for small moans to force their way out of your mouth. With a cock like Minho’s, it’s impossible to keep quiet no matter how much you try. However, as you work for your own orgasm, you don’t want to give him any satisfaction by making him think that he’s the one doing it; yet in reality, he is.

Nonetheless, you continue to use him just as much as he’s using you until the luxury of pleasure accelerates in the pit of your stomach. In saying that, it doesn’t take long for Minho to find that information out as you continue to ride him. The observation is clear-cut;

“Nobody’s fucked you since me haven’t they?” He asks you breathlessly, watching you roll your hips deliciously over his cock. “Know how I can tell? Because you keep fucking clenching around my dick.”

Your eyebrows furrow, struggling to find an answer for him because he is right and that’s not your fault, “s-so what? Want me to stop?”

“Didn’t say that, did I?” He argues back, too proud to say ‘no’. “Just…just keep moving.”

A firm hand of yours catches his taut jaw, and while his mouth is open, you lean down and spit right in it.

You curse right at him, “fuck you.”

His eyes lock with yours and for a moment, Minho is shocked, but not in a bad way. In that moment you despised him so much that he made you do something a normal person would find disgusting. Although it’s not long before a sick smirk spreads across his face, failing to pretend as if he didn’t just enjoy that, swallowing it back.

“Course you’d be into that you fucking whore,” he rasps, his body jolting every time your hips slam down.

“I’m not the whore who’s taking it,” you snipe back at him.

Your comment riles Minho, resulting in him nearly bucking you off his body before flipping you onto your stomach. He yanks both of your hands behind your back as something for him to latch onto when he pushes his cock back into you, and starts fucking hard and fast.

“Yes, yes, yes, fuck…” you whimper, eyes fluttering shut.

The new angle makes his dick slip in just that extra bit deeper, achieving a sensation which you miss all too much. With the amount of relentlessness that Minho puts behind his thrusts is nothing but a fast, brutal, and unforgiving type of fucking. He’s not holding back with you, no matter how much you hate him and he hates you, he will fuck you to tears.

“Such a fucking slut,” he drives forward nastily. “Needy, loud, slut.”

Your choked moans and whimpers are typical responses to hearing him call you that name again. In bed, if you weren’t his lover, you were his slut. Minho wouldn’t care less if the bed broke beneath him trying to fuck you like the whore you always wanted him to treat you as. But it was phenomenal.

Now, that’s only a distant memory clawing to come back.

“Make me cum…make me fucking cum,” you demand, acknowledging how close you are to the cliff of ecstasy.

Minho's breathing picks up from hearing the pure desperation in your voice, and so does his pace. His only release is not but a minute away, respecting that and also his motive to continue rearranging your guts.

Yet the possibility of keeping up any longer draws to a short term. Minho’s hold on your wrists behind your back becomes a solid death grip with no chance of escape until the wet heat from your pussy has his hips jumping out of rhythm.

His head tilts to the sky, the pleasure screaming at him from the base of his cock, “y-yes, fuck I'm cumming.”

At that very instant, Minho’s release rocks him over. His hands let go of yours in lieu of grabbing onto your ass instead. The pain and sting of his fingernails scraping deep into your flash forces strained whimpers and mewls from your throat, helping to push you over the verge of your second orgasm.

“Y-Yes, cumming, oh fuck-” you cry out with a shaky voice, stiffening while your hole seizes rhythmically around Minho’s length.

The pleasure is throat-gripping, making you forget the words to express how good you feel. Except, in the vapour of your orgasmic haze, you still don't want to accept the fact that it's Minho who makes you feel that way.

He pauses for a moment then thrusts hard back into you, making you keep the warm load that you were so undeservingly given, regardless if your walls are spasming and contracting it out. Then just as he was fast to try to get inside you, he's just as fast when he pulls out and flops beside you.

The air in the room becomes breathable again now that your heart rate isn't racing to the heavens, but picks back up quickly when you decide to hop off the bed and get dressed. You couldn't care less if you were sore and unbalanced. The thought of staying in the room with Minho any longer was suffocating.

“About your stuff,” he starts, filling the silent void with an exasperated voice. “I’ll try to get it back.”

You zip your jeans up, “don’t bother. I know you did give it away for whatever reason, but for what reason is something I’m betting you’ll take to the grave with you.”

Minho is up and now following suit by putting his clothes on. If now is the time to get one thing off of his chest, it’s now. Since the day you both separated, there has been no proper conversation. Both of you are too stubborn to admit wrongs and fix rights, but in your eyes, it's too far gone. There’s no going back to a good thing that was once more.

"I won't if we can just talk it out," he offers the opportunity to you.

“Minho, the nights that I had to listen to you fuck someone else in the next room right after we just broke up was a clear sign that we did not need to talk it out. All it made me do is realise that you didn't actually love me."

“That’s not true,” he shakes his head as you hear a twinge of desperation in his voice like he's pleading his case. "That's not true at all."

"It is though," you correct him. "You were free to sleep with whoever you wanted to because we had broken up at that point, but not a day after that did you wait."

Minho follows through with his explanation, “I was trying to get you out of my head. Spending too long just thinking about you makes me want to lose it. It didn't mean that I never loved you before."

“So you’re just going to continue being delusional? To fuck your way through trying to forget me?” You question, nearly laughing. "I honestly think you're just being pathetic."

He shrugs, “if it means that I don’t have to feel heartbreak, then yes.”

Part of you gets it. Minho’s found a vice and is using it as a tool to deal with his pain. But you’re in pain too, and you haven’t done anything to upset him ever since you split. Maybe it is as bad for him as he says it is. Maybe he doesn’t truly know how to navigate himself out of this like you’re attempting to.

It’s almost a rebuttal to your statement about whether he truly loved you or not; if he’s using other people to drive the thought of you out of his brain because it’s too painful to deal with, then maybe you were more than just a lover to him.

"I mean this in the nicest way possible, but I cannot stand being around you anymore because of how much it hurts to know that you're not actually with me. I'd rather try to forget your existence in order to not feel that type of heartbreak," Minho explains, his words coming from a place inside him that must've just opened up.

But he continues, "the second we split, I needed every last memory of you out of this house. But I know that this hurts you too and that this past month I’ve hurt you and that’s no justification to say that my reason is because you mean more than my entire life.”

There’s an ache in your chest that you’ve never felt before, a blend of all the emotional pain that could’ve been prevented had the two of you just talked. But that ache is fuelled by the fact that you can hear the waiver in Minho’s voice, and even though his back is still turned to you while he sits on the edge of the bed, you’re sure he’s crying.

A/N: Dare I say that I want to make a part 2 to this where Minho and reader try to rekindle, things are pretty tender but they sort of want to make it work...

#rosiewritesskz #stray kids smut #skz smut #lee know smut #lee know x reader

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conarcoin · 2 years

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So Elon bought Twitter. I'm honestly not gonna push away Twitter newcomers, but if you're in the MCYT fandom you need to understand that the social etiquette and expectations and culture here are very different than over on Twitter. So as someone who's been an active part of mcytblr for two years now, I'd like to offer some thoughts and advice!

One: Shipping. MCYT communities on Tumblr have always tended to lean more tolerant towards shipping of roleplay characters due to the idea that this is a space for fans primarily. The creators who visit or actively use Tumblr like Eret and Martyn understand that this is a fan space primarily, and don't bother us for the content we make, and we don't bother them with it.

The number one worst thing you could do is share shipping content with creators who have not asked for it. This is a huge social faux pas here. Secondly, on the other end — writing callout posts for shippers here isn't gonna fly. Even for RPF shippers and people who may ship boundary-breaking pairings, our default is usually to not engage with these people rather than publicly call them out. It makes the space a healthier place for everyone and makes it much less likely that CCs may come across content they are uncomfortable with. It's also considered a social faux pas to ask CCs their opinions and boundaries on shipping, since that's bringing it up when they didn't ask!

Speaking of shipping, people typically don't mind you maintagging ship content so long as you also tag it as shipping so people can filter it. For Hermitcraft the tag is hermitshipping, Life Series has trafficshipping, and the lesser known DSMP tag is dsmpshipping.

Two: Reblogging. This is something a lot of newer users tend to struggle with. There is no algorithm on Tumblr, at least not one that works, so content creators rely on you reblogging their work in order for it to spread. If you see a fic or piece of art you enjoy, please reblog it! I often reblog art for MCYT fandoms I'm not even personally in.

Three: Tagging (again). There are a wide variety of tags you can use for your content! The most common tags you'll want to use are "mcyt" and "mcytblr", and any relevant series, pairing/group or character/CC names. However, please don't use the tag "minecraft"! Minecraft has an entirely separate fanbase on Tumblr that we co-exist with and have some overlap with, but don't necessarily appreciate seeing MCYT content in their tags. Any tag with "minecraft" in it is also a no-no, such as "minecraft youtubers" or "minecraft championships". Please use shorthands!

Four: Opinions on MCYT drama tend to be very different here than they are on Twitter. For instance, you should assume by default that most bloggers here either like or are completely neutral towards "problematic CCs" like Schlatt. But also, we tend to be very against spreading anything originating from leakers, and we also tend to not be fond of making posts "holding CCs accountable" for things they did years ago. Generally, mcytblr prefers to be a more drama-free community, and if you do engage in discourse, many would appreciate you tagging it as such!

Five: CCs do not need you to babysit them.

Generally speaking you will see a lot of jokes and memes on mcytblr that wouldn't fly on Twitter, and it is generally looked down upon to try to speak on behalf of CCs personal boundaries — they are grown adults, and you are a stranger! Calling out or harassing people for "breaking boundaries" is mostly just going to get you looked at strangely, especially if you don't have a source for your claims. Most of us will stop doing something if asked, but we don't need stans to tell us to! CCs can speak for themselves when uncomfortable.

Six: Most mcytblr blogs don't want CC notices. There are quite a few CCs who are active here, but the community is chill with them as they don't tend to talk about us elsewhere and allow us to do our own thing. We do not, however, like encouraging CCs to join Tumblr or to follow us or reblog our posts — many people here actually prefer being out of sight of CCs and many of us consider it rude to seek out attention from CCs outside of sending the occasional ask.

Please treat CCs kindly and don't gawk at them like you just saw a celebrity on the street — the ones who are active here are just Tumblr users like the rest of you! Seeing Eret reblog fanart or respond to an ask isn't something to point out.

While we joke about Twitter users joining, we don't actually have anything against you guys, it's just that we've built a very different community here and ask that you respect it and the etiquette we've come to establish! Thank you, and I hope you enjoy your stay on mcytblr ^_^

#long post #ok to rb #mcyt #mcytblr

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ohnoitstbskyen · 9 days

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PINNED POST, FAQ, INFORMATION

Hi, I'm TBSkyen. I make videos on YouTube sometimes. This is my main tumblr blog, the "brand" blog as it were, where I maintain my Social Media Presence™ on this site.

I use the ironic ™ to signal my personal discomfort with the work of being a minor media personality even while I still do that work and make a living off it.

I have a sideblog called @tbposting, mostly for shitposts and reblogs, and in my opinion I have pretty darn good taste in reblogs, so you can follow that if you want. It's also where I'll do random personal posting, microblogging, etc.

This main blog is primarily for 1) answering asks, and 2) posting my Original Content™, usually my main channel videos, as well as the occasional longer essay or critique. Sometimes I'll reblog an interesting or useful thing, or boost a friend's work, but I try to keep the spam to a minimum.

---

About Me

I am a thirtysomething content creator whose primary expertise is character design.

I have a bachelor's degree in English, never finished my master's, did most of a bachelor's degree in history, and that's it. These are my academic qualifications, no more and no less.

My professional experience is primarily being a freelancer and self-employed creator. I spent the better part of a decade working as a commission artist, running webcomics, drawing fanart, and the occasional animation work and not safe for work commissions, and I have at this point a decade of experience and self-study in the subjects I cover. I have also done online community management for, god help me, almost twenty years, so that's a part of my skillset I'll never escape.

I do not have any particular professional creative industry experience, although given what I hear from my professional friends, sometimes that seems like a blessing.

Please maintain a critical distance when engaging with my work. I am a critic. My work is very rarely meant to be taken as authoritative or didactic, and when it is, I will make it clear in my writing. Just because I speak with confidence doesn't mean I am trying to assert objective truth.

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TAGS (to follow, or filter)

#tbanswers is the tag for every single ask I answer on this blog

#tb reblog is the tag for reblogs

#tb essay is for the occasional longer essay or critical writing

#tbvideos is for my videos and Content™

#tb recommends is for the occasional recommendation of a video essay or other creator

Yes, I know the spaces are inconsistent. It's not on purpose, I just typed them in haphazardly when I started using them and it's stuck.

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FAQ (before you ask)

Q: Will you ever do a video about ____ ? A: The answer to this question is almost universally "maybe someday, if I have time, and if I feel I have anything worthwhile to say." And the more realistic answer is "no, because I already have far too much on my plate and I have burned myself out too many times." In general, please don't ask me this question, I will most likely not answer it because I have given the same answer a thousand times, but I still feel guilty about not answering them.

Q: Will you continue your series of videos about ____ ? A: Yes! I will continue the let's plays I started, I will finish the Boss Designs series, I will do another What's the Deal With, I will do more shorts about the subjects I've got going on. The main obstacle is, again, my tendency to overload myself.

Q: Do you have a PO box? Can I send you something? A: Not yet, but I'm looking into it. It may be a while before I get it set up.

Q: Do you have merchandise? A: A little bit, yes, at tbskyen.redbubble.com.

Q: What's your opinion on [game/movie/comic/book/etc]? A: I struggle to answer very open, broad questions like this. Most things I have opinions about, I have multiple opinions, and different ones depending on the perspective and specific element in question. I'm much more likely to answer specific, bounded questions.

Q: Can I send you fanart? A: PLEASE. Askbox, tag me on bluesky, send it to my email! I love seeing every piece of it!

Q: Why do you never appear on camera? A: A forest witch cursed me to look not quite but ALMOST like Paul Giamatti in all photos and videos ever taken of me, and his laywers sent me a cease-and-desist.

Q: Are you gay/straight/bi/other? A: The decision I've made for myself, at least for this period of my life, is that privacy is precious, and once given up can never be reclaimed on the internet. I am open about being aromantic (not asexual), because it's a sometimes invisible and underdiscussed identity, and I know it would have helped me a lot to see someone speak about it when I was younger.

The rest of it is for me to know, and for you to speculate about, although preferably somewhere I can't see it. I accept that this is a part of being a Personality, but it still feels weird, y'know?

Q: Is it weird if I find your voice kinda hot? A: I've put a lot of work into developing this voice and making it nice to listen to, so that's not weird at all and I find it quite complimentary, thank you.

I generally don't mind people doing flirty/thirsty posting about or at me, just so long as we all understand that 1) you should never give a stranger like me information which could be used to harm you. Nicer-seeming YouTubers than me have turned out to be monsters.

And 2) it will never go beyond playful online flirtiness. I like to fluster my live chat, I'll flirt back in an ask or a post maybe, but I am not flirting with you, or inviting any kind of closer intimacy with you, the person I responded to.

Think of me like a comedian doing crowd-work at a show - you can chat to me in the bar after the show, but when I asked you what you do for work I wasn't looking for a personal connection, I was doing my work as an entertainer. Please no sending me nudes, or propositions, or confession letters in my email inbox. We are strangers, and I am always performing a persona in public.

#tbskyen #tb skyen

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voidpumpkin · 2 years

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A Guide For New Users Fleeing From Twitter, From A User Who Needed One When They First Started:

Hi to everyone fleeing from twitter, Elon Musk is shit and he already has had an actively harmful effect on the site, one that will only get worse. So, welcome to Tumblr, it can be kind of intimidating, given its reputation and how many different features there are, I was certainly confused and intimidated when I first logged on and as I'm active on both I sympathise with y’all, so here’s a guide to anyone new:

Put your hashtags in the hashtag section. This is the only way they’ll actually have any sort of effect, or appear when you search for something. Don’t post them on the post itself.

There is a character limit for hashtags and a quite high hashtag limit. Go wild. Writing entire speeches is common.

Don’t tag lots of unrelated stuff to your posts, that’ll get you reported for Spam and just hated in general

Don’t censor words, users are fine with swearing, doing so especially with triggering content makes it hard for people to limit their exposure to said triggering content.

There’s no such thing as ratioing.

We don’t have quote retweeting, every reblog, comment, etc counts to op’s post. They can see it all, and will be notified depending on their notification settings.

Change your icon, people will think you’re a bot if you use the default.

Give yourself a bio, it’ll make you look like a person.

Follow people and tags, that’s the only way you’re gonna see the content you wanna see. The foryoupage isn’t to be trusted.

Actually reblog stuff, liking has no effect, reblogging is the only important thing here as there is no like based algorithm. Doing so will also make you appear human.

You can hide your likes and who you’re following. Doing so is not frowned upon in the slightest.

You can block tags, similarly to muting words on twitter.

You can have multiple blogs tied to one account.

You can customise your blog, go wild.

There is no word limit, you can write as you want. But if it gets too long make use of the keep reading feature, (the three dots beside the add gif feature)

There is an image limit of thirty, up from the former ten, though for some they may be stuck at only using ten, tumblr is kinda inconsistent. If you want to add more you’ll have to reblog your own post.

There is no reblogging limit when it comes to a post, though there is a daily posting limit, go wild, only your followers will be upset.

You can have videos, gifs and pictures in the same post.

You can just post audio.

Adult content is still banned, but actual moderation and enforcement is spotty, especially if it’s written.

Spam liking and reblogging isn’t a thing. Go wild.

You have an ask box that people can submit stuff to. You can respond or just delete the post. You can remove anon capability from it (which will get rid of most of the hate), or outright bar it.

You can’t private your account but you can restrict commenting and reblogging. Edit: I’ve been informed that you can in fact make your blog password protected, it’s just that it’s a rarely done thing and not widely known.

Block whoever and whenever, it’s not a big deal. Though if someone you’ve blocked has reblogged and added to a post and someone you follow reblogs that, their commentary will still be included in the post you see.

We don’t have muting, only blocking.

Yes, direct messaging is a thing (it’s the little smiley face)

The only way to promote your is through ‘tumblr blaze’, you pay a certain amount of money and your post will be promoted, but not targeted, so no invasions of privacy. You are subject to the employee’s whims on whether or not it gets promoted and unfortunately hate speech has been allowed.

Tumblr has tendency to hide/consume comments, posts and asks, don’t be surprised if they go missing.

Tumblr searching a blog relies on tags, words in the post and the users name, keep that in mind.

Posts will remain after you delete your account or the original post if they have been reblogged.

Years old posts are still circulating and that is considered normal.

You can queue up posts to be released when you’re not using your account. Or you can just post whenever you’re active. Go wild.

Wizards exist and are very popular on this site. Accept it.

There are posts with no notes that will never gain any more than a sing note for your like. Accept it.

There are posts will no op. Accept it.

Trans and autistic people dominate this site.

Don’t get pissy when someone tags a post ‘tw (insert slur)’, or any trigger warning for that matter, most are just being considerate of their followers who may be triggered by such content.

Twitter discourse is regularly mocked, it’s not gonna fly here.

No, we don’t call each other oomfs, or anything like that. We just have mutuals.

Tumblr in general lacks a lot colloquialisms that began on twitter.

We do have ‘blorbo’ ‘poor little meow meow’ etc.

Trying to go viral or trying to corporate is frowned upon.

Tumblr has a tendency to blacklist things tagged like ‘crowdfunding’ so bring that kind of logic you use for twitter posts over to tumblr.

We don’t have twitter circles, co-posting, etc.

Tumblr is surprisingly good at recommending blogs.

There are no verified accounts, and your follower count isn't visible. This is a good thing, trying to change it will get you laughed at.

People are going to just make up stuff, don’t believe everything you see and if it’s a claim about someone, investigate it rather than just believe it.

You can edit your posts after you’ve posted them, but the versions reblogged before said changes will still circulate. This editing of the original has been used as a spruce of comedy

If your worried about people seeing your potentially triggering, or even graphic content and they haven’t blocked the tags you’ve used you can use the keeping reading feature to put the content under the cut and post a warning at the top.

And this is quite important:

Stay anonymous and have fun. There isn’t an expectation to constantly expose inner details of your life, you aren’t expected to use your real face, your real name, age, etc. You’re not even expected to be truthful here. Exist however you wanna exist and have fun, that should be the point of social media.

Also keep in mind that tumblr has its own distinct culture that is going to take some getting used to. As well as a history any user who’s been here a while will at least somewhat understand.

Also I'll be editing the post with additional info and corrections provided to me.

#twitter #tumblr #social media #Elon musk #giude #psa #hellsite #edited to correct some stuff #hellsite tag #edited again to add stuff and correct some information

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venomous-qwille · 1 year

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Ghost in the Machine

This is the master post for Ghost in the Machine links, character refs and FAQs.

I will try my best to keep this post as up to date as possible.

What is Ghost in The Machine?

GITM is a DCA AU and a fic set in the retrofuture (2055ish) long after Fazco has shut down. An eccentric collector has been acquiring versions of the Daycare Attendant animatronic from closed locations around the world. The story involves a reader character who has been brought into repair the original post-Ruin DCA from the games, and hijinks ensue. There are also ghosts.

Where can I read the fic?

GITM is currently being posted on Ao3, and is updated every three weeks on Saturdays. The fic is being beta'd by the tremendously talented @bubbiethesaur. You can read GITM here!

There is also a podfic, which you can find here:

Updates to the podfic will be sporadic, so please be patient <3

Where can I see the art?

On this blog I use the #gitm au and #ghost in the machine au tags for GITM related content. If you are looking for art of a specific character, they also have their own tags: #misuta moon #nova #soleil #clip.exe #sunspot mk1 #fool eclipse #ruin eclipse #sombra #sunflower #mr sandman

FAQ~

Why haven't you answered my GITM ask?

One of three reasons: 1) your ask was too spoilery* 2) I'm waiting to answer it with art 3) ADHD

*spoilery includes but is not limited to: any questions about dual-AI or XYZ character's sun/moon variant; questions about character backstories and lore; questions about characters that have not featured in the fic yet (e.g Nova, Sanii, Harvest, Sunflower, Sandman etc); asks speculating about potential future scenarios (don't get me wrong, I love these asks, but I can't answer them!)

Where are all the Moons?

Read and find out. Seriously. There are at least 5 Moons who are core to the plot but I'm not going to talk about them, no matter how nicely you ask!

Does XYZ character have a Sun/Moon counterpart?

Some of them do, some of them don't. The dual-AI stuff is majorly plot related. If I'm not talking about someone's Sun/Moon counterpart, rest assured you will find out eventually. I won't be spoiling any of it on tumblr though :)

Can I create fanart of GITM?

Yes yes yes please do and please tag me when you post it so I can see it/reblog! If you are unsure if something is ok, please ask.

Can I create fanfic of GITM?

Super flattered about this. I have a longform answer to this question which you can read here. But tl;dr yes you can, please tag/credit me, do not spoil/try to write the lore, and please do not write GITM au (e.g mafia, mer, medieval). I have my own plans for this stuff and I would prefer to release the designs/stories in my own time. If you are unsure if something is ok, please ask.

Can I create NSFW GITM content?

Until recently I had blanket perms that allowed NSFW GITM content. I'm updating this to let you guys know I'm no longer comfortable with people making this content. Back when the community was small, I felt differently, but as time has passed a lot has changed and I've found myself becoming increasingly anxious about it. If this boundary changes again in the future, I will update this FAQ.

Do you have character refs I can use?

There is a collection of art 'refs' for each character on the Misutamojis discord. Latest link here.

There are no proper call-out sheets/refs currently, but I have a huge body of art for the characters on this blog which should give you more than enough info for most of them. I will get around to creating proper refs eventually, in which case I will link them here.

Where can I find the playlist?

I update the spotify playlist fairly regularly, if you have any music recs you can send them over in an ask! You can listen to the playlist here!

I've heard there are secret GITM drabbles, where can I find them?

I used to post frequent drabbles from future chapters in the DCA Palooza discord, I have recently deleted the majority of them as people were going back and binging them which hadn't been the intended reading experience. Anywho, this question probably refers more to the spicy drabbles (which people have very kindly made a lot of delicious art for). These are still around! You just need to access the spicy channel and do some digging.

Is there a GITM discord?

Nope! There is a server for GITM emotes and a busy thread in the DCA Palooza, but currently I don't have any plans to make a GITM-centric discord community. If that does happen in the future it's likely I will simply convert the emotes server (Misutamojis).

It finally happened, I converted Misutamojis. You can join the GITM discord here.

Can I smooch the robots?

Yes.

All of them?

All of them.

#master post #ghost in the machine #ghost in the machine au #gitm au #soleil #clip.exe #sanii drop #misuta moon #sunspot mk1 #harvest moon #sunflower and the sandman #fool eclipse #ruin eclipse #nova #gitm yn #sombra #SoundCloud

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hauntedhowlett-writes · 1 year

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title: stranger than a stranger

pairing: pre-boston raider!joel miller x female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 4964

summary:

When Joel sees you searching for supplies in an old school, he removes your companion from the equation and convinces you that you need to join him for your survival.

author's note: a gift for @dreamingofdaddydin, fellow depraved slut, who sent in an ask that i completely changed. please heed the warnings on this one, as there are dark and potentially triggering elements. if you do decide to read and you enjoy, please consider reblogging or commenting!

content warnings/tags: explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), undefined age gap, no use of y/n, post-outbreak/pre-boston QZ, dark!joel miller, perv!joel miller, survival as coercion/manipulation, dub/non-con somnophilia (the actions are not agreed upon before hand but reader is receptive once waking), sex as a thank you, voyeurism, masturbation, canon typical violence (mentions guns, knives, blood), handjobs, dirty talk, pet names (sweetheart, baby, honey), cum eating, huddling for warmth but manipulative, wet dreams, thigh fucking, fingering, unprotected p in v. please let me know if any are missing!

You never expected to live through an apocalypse. In fact, before the cordyceps outbreak, you and your boyfriend had watched Night of the Living Dead and you joked that if the time ever came, just throw you to the zombies or demons or whatever hell unleashed.

Yet here you are, ten years post-outbreak and the collapse of one QZ that you and your boyfriend had been living in, climbing through a destroyed school building, picking your way through rubble as you follow Liam in his search for more supplies.

“The stores around here are probably picked clean, but a lot of people don’t think about checking schools. They’ve got plenty of non-perishables in the cafeteria. Remember? We ate like shit growing up,” Liam explains. He shines a flashlight down a hall. “Well, I guess we ate better than we do now.”

“I miss chicken nuggets,” you lament. He chuckles.

“I could definitely use a cheeseburger,” Liam replies.

You continue moving quietly through the school, the cement and linoleum cracked by overgrowth and the abandoned classrooms of overturned desks making you feel like you’re in a whole different world and not just in an elementary school in Massachusetts.

“You got your knife and gun, right?” Liam asks quietly. You nod, pulling the gun from the waist of your jeans and showing it to him. “Good, keep it handy. You know those fuckers are always hiding around buildings like this.”

You and Liam had just started dating when the outbreak occurred, and you managed to stick together for the last ten years. He’s taught you a lot about survival - shooting a gun, starting a fire, and finding edible vegetation in the woods, among other skills. Despite your original desire to be spared from an apocalypse, you’ve somehow managed to persevere.

“Remember to aim for the head,” Liam says.

You roll your eyes. “No, I figured I’d aim for a foot. Of course I’m aiming for the head.”

“Alright, smart ass. You go down that hall and see what you can find.” He pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’m gonna look for the cafeteria. Meet me back here.”

With another nod, you part ways.

You both miss the figure lurking in the shadows.

________

Joel watches you disappear around a corner before his attention returns to your companion. The man walks quickly in the opposite direction, holding only a flashlight in his hands. Joel clocks a holster on his hip that must hold a gun or a knife. The man looks like the type to know how to fight, weapons or not.

Too bad Joel is the predator here.

He leaves the dark shadow he’d hidden himself in, following the man with quick, quiet steps. The other man seems alert, but not alert enough to notice Joel following him.

Good.

Joel watches the man draw a gun from the holster, holding it in front of him as he kicks open a set of double doors, sweeping his flashlight and gun into the darkness beyond. Joel slips through the door before it shuts, darkness surrounding him as he lets his eyes adjust.

It looks like a gymnasium, cracked hardwood basketball flooring with faded court lines illuminated in the small flashlight beam of the man, who continues across the court and out another set of double doors.

He follows him back out to a hallway, brightly lit thanks to a hole in the ceiling, crumbled plaster and cement littering the ground. He takes a few steps closer, stopping when he hears a clicking sound that sends a shiver down his spine.

The man freezes, too, eyes wide, hands tightening on his gun. Joel slowly brings the shotgun slung over his back around to his front, taking it up in his hands.

The clicking grows louder, more insistent. It echoes down the hallway and Joel knows that the creature is aware of their presence. No matter how quiet you are, those fuckers know how to find you.

He aims his gun, finger poised on the trigger. Heavy footsteps approach from the end of the hall, punctuated by the clicking noise that makes his hair stand on end. The creature enters the hall, overgrowth of cordyceps blocking its eyes and features. It pauses, head turning with jerky motions as it seeks out its prey. He watches the other man shift his stance, trying to widen his legs, but his foot catches a rock, sending it sliding across the floor.

The creature’s head snaps at the sound and it ambles closer, faster. Joel takes aim, pulling the trigger and blowing its head across the room. The man turns in surprise.

“Damn, man. Thanks,” he says, taking a deep breath and giving Joel a smile of gratitude. He reaches a hand out as he says, “I’m Li—“

He pulls the trigger and the man collapses to the ground face first, blood rapidly pooling beneath his body.

Joel approaches, crouching beside him. He opens the bag on his back, rifling through the contents for anything that might be of use. There’s a med kit, ammo for the handgun he’d been using, gloves, a jacket, and a hunting knife. He shoves all of it into his own bag before grabbing the gun beside the man’s body as he stands.

Joel slides the gun into his waistband before turning and heading back the way he came. He imagines the gunshots will have you rushing back to investigate.

Just like he wanted.

________

You hear two gunshots go off, freezing in your exploration of a classroom. You listen closely, ears straining for any sign of clicker activity due to the noise as you slowly draw your gun from your waistband. Hearing nothing in the aftermath of the gunshots, you race back towards the area where Liam had agreed to meet you, heart racing as your mind begs you to choose flight and not fight.

In your panic, you don’t notice the man in the hall until you’re colliding against him, his arms gripping your shoulders to steady you.

“Who the fuck are you?” You ask, scrambling out of his hold and pointing your gun at him. He’s tall with broad shoulders, a flannel beneath a faded denim jacket stretching over his frame. He has tan skin and dark hair with brown eyes that look at you with concern. “Back the fuck up,” you shout.

The man takes a step back, holding his hands up. “I ain’t gonna hurt you.”

“I heard gunshots. Where’s Liam?”

“I came up on a guy fightin’ a clicker. He was in bad shape,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

There’s a buzzing in your ears as your brain catches up to his words. You blink, eyes burning with tears that you fight back.

“H-he’s dead?” You whisper.

“‘Fraid so.”

You drop to your hands and knees with the realization, gasping for a breath that won’t reach your lungs. There’s movement from the corner of your eye, the strange man taking a step closer, and you raise your gun once more.

“Don’t,” you snap. “Come any closer and I’ll shoot.”

“Listen. I’m sorry about your friend. But if there’s one clicker, there’s bound to be more. You can come with me.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you. I’ll be fine on my own.” You keep the gun trained on him as you slowly stand on shaky legs. “I’m leaving now. Don’t fucking follow me.”

You only make it a few steps before he’s calling out after you. “There’s worse things out there than the infected. Girl like you won’t last long.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“It means,” he says, the tone of his voice grating your nerves, “that there are bad fuckin’ people out there, ones that’ll take advantage of a girl headin’ out on her own. Some who won’t give a shit that a gun is bein’ pointed at their heads if it means they die tryin’ to bring you down with ‘em. Is that really somethin’ you wanna go through right now?”

Your resolve waivers. He’s probably right. In the ten years you’ve been struggling to survive, you’ve always had Liam at your back. Even in the QZ, before it collapsed, he kept you going. You could survive out there when it came to skill, but would you make it far on your own when clickers move in packs and raiders run rampant?

“I…I guess I’ll come with you,” you say, lowering your weapon. You flick the safety on and the man smiles.

“The name’s Joel.”

________

It’s been a week since joining Joel. The two of you keep a steady pace in your travels, though there’s no real destination in mind. He’s been on his own for a while, he tells you, having split from his brother who had gone to join the Fireflies in their fight.

“Fuckin’ stupid if you ask me,” he grumbled after telling you that little bit of information. “They ain’t gonna change shit.”

You just nod along, wrapped up in your own thoughts. You can’t pinpoint it, but something about Joel makes you wary of him. He’s been nice enough, sure, but there’s something off about the way he looks at you.

You’ll catch the older man staring at your ass when you’re walking ahead of him, or see the way his eyes go dark when you’re on your knees starting a fire. His hands will linger on your hips a little longer than necessary when he’s helping you jump down from something, or he’ll watch a little too intently as your lips wrap around the mouth of your water bottle.

What’s worse is how it makes you feel hot all over when you shouldn’t feel anything, least of all attraction when you’ve just lost your boyfriend.

It’s starting to get cold at night. The days are still tolerable, since you’re always on the move and the sun is shining, but once the sky goes dark, you struggle to stay warm. You layer your two jackets and even that’s still not enough as you lay shivering in your sleeping bag. You turn over until you’re facing where Joel has his bag set up, curling your legs closer to your chest and squeezing your eyes shut.

Past the sound of your teeth chattering, you hear the shift of fabric, the glide of skin on skin, a low groan. Your eyes snap open and as they adjust to the inky darkness, you can make out the vague shape of Joel on the ground. Another choked off moan rings in your ear, the sound of it making your blood go hot. You listen as his movements and breaths and sounds grow more frantic, the desperation they’re laced with making you rub your thighs together as subtly as you can.

“Fuck, fuck,” Joel pants quietly. The air goes still, the sound of his hand moving over his cock slowing to a stop. You wonder where he’s finished. In his hand? On his belly? Your brain conjures an image of you licking the spend from his skin, salty taste of him on your tongue as you look up into his eyes and he groans.

You have to bite your lip to keep your sounds to yourself. You wiggle a hand between your legs, clamping your thighs around it tightly and rocking slightly. It’s not nearly enough and it’s so frustrating you want to scream.

Eventually, as the adrenaline seeps from your body, sleep takes its place, your eyes fluttering shut as darkness consumes you.

You dream of bitten off groans and curses in a voice that belongs to a stranger with dark hair and brown eyes.

________

Two weeks after joining the two of you encounter your first band of raiders.

You’re in a small town picking through a convenience store. There’s a surprising amount of things left on the shelves, including cans of food that you’re tossing into your backpack when the sound of a gun being cocked makes you freeze.

“Hey, pretty girl. Why don’t you put some of that back for the rest of us, yeah?” An unfamiliar voice says. You glance over your shoulder, a large man with a thick beard smiling at you. You turn slowly, hands raised and mind racing with your options.

He’s blocking the exit. You could try to dart around him, but the gun trained at your head is a bit of a worry. Your own gun is in the waistband of your pants, pressing against your low back. Not much help to you like that. You should have been holding it the whole time.

“Hand over your fucking bag,” he says, the calm in his more alarming than if he were yelling at you. “Got me some food and a pretty little pet to keep, too.”

Your blood turns to ice and your heartbeat pounds in your ears as you swallow hard, bending down to grab your bag.

A shot rings out, glass shattering and you shout, dropping lower to the ground. You open your eyes slowly, you gaze landing on the body of the man lying on the ground in a rapidly expanding pool of blood. You look up, eyes finding Joel’s beyond the shattered window of the convenience store as he lowers his gun.

A shout has Joel whirling, gun drawn as three men appear from an alley. He shoots, one of the men dropping. Grabbing your bag, you rush to the front of the store as another shot rings out, shattering the glass of the door. You drop to the ground, pressing your back to the wall beside the window and peeking out.

Joel slings his gun over his back, landing a kick to a man that rushes him, the stranger landing on his back. A second man points a gun at Joel.

“On your fuckin’ knees!” He barks.

Panic courses through you, but you reach behind you, grabbing your gun. You switch the safety off, leaning from your hiding spot to take aim through the window at the man. Your hands shake as you take a breath in, like Liam taught you, pulling the trigger as you exhale.

The shot lands in the man’s abdomen, making him stumble and drop his weapon. Joel stands, rushing for the man as he pulls a large knife from his hip, plunging the blade into the man’s chest.

The man he kicked is getting to his hands and knees when Joel turns on him, knife held at his hip. A wicked grin spreads across his face before he plants his boot against the man’s ribs, knocking him onto his side. Joel shoves at him with his foot until the man is on his back and he stands over him, a foot on either side of his hips.

Joel raises the knife above his head before swinging it down into the man’s chest, holding it there for a moment before he twists it savagely and pulls it free. You stand there, equal parts horrified and something worse, eyes wide as you watch Joel wipe the blade against the man’s clothes to clean it.

“Get their guns, will ya?” Joel calls out. The sound of his voice makes you jump, your muscles finally spurring into action as you comply with his request.

Later, as you settle in for the night in your respective sleeping bags, you hear the tell-tale sound of shifting fabric and bitten off moans. You stare up at the dark sky, pinpricks of starlight winking back at you, as you gather your courage.

“Joel?” You murmur. The sounds stop abruptly, the only thing you can hear is his heavy breathing.

“Thought you were sleepin’,” he grunts.

You turn over on your side, facing him. You can barely make him out in the dark, only his silhouette, but your heart beats faster all the same as you say, “I could…help.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, so long that you’ve got an apology on the tip of your tongue when you hear the zip of his sleeping bag being opened.

“Come help, then.”

________

Joel tries to contain his enthusiasm. Nights of coming into his own palm while he knows you’re listening, imagining your hand around his cock instead of his, and now his patience has finally paid off.

You’re crawling across the grass to join him in his sleeping bag, your body pressed to his in the tight space. He takes a shuddering breath, the feel of your heat alone almost enough to make him come.

Your hand rests on his belly, tentatively sliding lower until your fingers brush against the hair at the base of his cock. He hisses as your cold hand grips him at the base, slowly sliding up to his leaking tip. Your thumb circles his slit, smearing a bead of precum around the sensitive head as he groans into the night.

“That’s it, baby,” Joel says. Your face is tucked against his neck, and he wishes you’d turn your face up, let him kiss you, but he has to be smart and only take what you’ll give so that one day you’ll offer more. “Tighter, just like that, fuck.”

Joel’s hips flex to chase your fist, the soft feel of your palm driving him wild. He moans, louder than he should be given the vulnerable position this puts you both in, but he doesn’t give a fuck. All he cares about is you.

“This a ‘thank you’, huh? For killin’ those guys?” Joel pants. Your head nods against his neck and the admission makes his head feel light and fuzzy. “Told ya you needed me, sweetheart. Needed someone to take care of you, right?”

You hum, squirming against him. Your lips graze his neck and that’s the final nail in his coffin, his cock pulsing in your hand as he comes harder than he has in years. He can’t help but whine a little when you let go, already missing the warmth and the softness of it.

“Clean it up for me, baby,” Joel says. You bring your hand up, nothing but a dark shape against darker air, and he hears you licking at the cum coating your fingers. “That taste good?”

“Mhm,” you hum. When you’re done, you roll away from him, crawling back over to your sleeping bag and zipping yourself inside.

With a sigh, Joel shimmies his jeans back up his thighs before turning on his side, letting the sounds of the night lull him to sleep.

________

You’ve been with Joel for a month when winter really starts to settle in and you’re forced to keep moving in your travels until you’ve found abandoned buildings to sleep in to stay out of the harsh winter air. While the snow might not reach you inside, the cold certainly does.

It’s one such night that Joel suggests sharing body heat.

“It’s the best thing we can do to keep warm,” he explains. “Can’t keep a fire goin’ inside. Too dangerous.”

You swallow nervously. He’s zipping together your sleeping bags so that you can fit beside each other, laying it on the ground of the old stockroom you’ve barricaded yourselves in for the night, a little camping lamp on a metal shelf providing a little light.

Joel kneels to untie his boots, removing one then the other and setting them aside. He stands, sliding his arms free of his jacket and setting it on the shelf. When he starts to unbutton his flannel, your blood rushes in your ears.

“W-what are you doing?” You ask. He pauses, hands on his buttons.

“Gettin’ undressed. Can’t share body heat with clothes in the way.”

You stand there frozen as he continues to strip, t-shirt and jeans and boxers all joining his growing pile of clothes until he’s naked in front of you and you’re struggling to keep your eyes on his face with so much muscle and skin on display. He slides into the sleeping bag, staring up at you expectantly.

“You gonna stand there all night?” He asks, lips tilted in a little smirk. “Come on. We’ve come a long way today and you gotta be tired.”

You’re exhausted, really, the kind of tired that settles into your bones and makes your limbs heavy. Slowly, you follow the same steps as he did to undress, starting with your shoes. It doesn’t escape your notice that he’s watching you with dark eyes the entire time, until you’re down to your underwear.

“Those, too,” Joel says.

“Why?”

“I don’t make the rules, sweetheart, I just follow ‘em. Skin to skin is the only way this’ll work.”

Reluctantly, you reach behind your back to unclip your bra, letting it fall to the floor. Your nipples are tight in the cold room and you grit your teeth against their chattering as you quickly tug your panties down your legs and add them to your pile of clothing.

You slip into the sleeping bag beside Joel, the heat of his body immediately making you feel warm all over. You zip up the sleeping bag, cocooning your bodies in the insulation. Joel turns on his side, sliding his muscular around your tummy and tugging you closer. The hard length of his cock presses to your thigh and you lie perfectly still, afraid to move.

“Go to sleep,” he grunts. You close your eyes, the tension slowly leaving your muscles as you listen to his deep breathing in the dark room.

Somewhere between the warmth of his body and the feel of his breath against your cheek, sleep finds you.

________

Sometime in the night, you’ve turned on your side, your ass pressed snugly against Joel’s hips with his cock slipped between your cheeks. He wakes to the feel of you grinding against his length and his arm tightens around your middle as he groans.

“Joel,” you murmur. He lifts his head to see if you’re awake, but your eyes are shut, brows pinched together. Your hips move against him again and he bites into his lower lip to keep his sounds contained, not wanting to wake you and ruin this.

You murmur his name again and his head drops back to the arm he’d been using as a pillow. He gives a little experimental thrust of his hips and you moan, the sound making his cock jump against you.

With careful movements, he lifts your top leg, laying it over his hip. He lets his hand drift lower, gliding over your tummy until he’s cupping your pussy gently. His fingers slide through your wetness, catching on your swollen clit and making your hips jerk.

Joel worries that you’re awake, but you’re not scrambling from his grip yet. He circles his fingers slowly, so slowly, your hips moving against him and your breathing coming more quickly. You let out little whimpers and whines that Joel wants to commit to memory, the sound of them sure to plague him any time he closes his eyes.

You’re growing wetter and Joel grows bolder, slipping his middle finger into your tight entrance, not able to hold back his moan of appreciation over how your cunt flutters around the digit as he slowly pumps it inside of you.

Another whimper of his name from your lips has his sanity fraying further, his hand moving faster against you, damn the consequences of you waking up to him playing with your pussy. Your muscles go tight against him with your release before going limp, your breath stuttering. He lifts his head once more to check if you’re asleep, surprised to find your face lax with bliss, eyes still closed as your breathing slows to normal.

Joel withdraws his hand, using it to grip his cock, sliding your juices over his length. He angles himself to where his cock is pressed up against your lips before gently lowering your leg. He’s surrounded by warmth, your pussy and thighs cradling him perfectly.

He thrusts his hips, his cock gliding through your wetness with ease. He loses himself to the slick glide, the tip of his cock catching against your swollen clit with each thrust. His fingers dig into the meat of your hip for leverage, pulling you back towards him as he groans against your shoulder.

Your muscles go stiff against him and he freezes as you whisper, “Joel?”

His name is a question this time and he knows he’s been caught.

“It can be another ‘thank you’, yeah? For keepin’ you warm?” He asks, dragging his nose across your bare shoulder. “Could feel so good for us both,” he whispers, thrusting against your clit and reveling in the shaky moan you give him in return.

“O-okay,” you stutter. Joel presses a kiss to your shoulder in gratitude as he returns to the rhythm he’d set before you woke. He slides an arm over your middle, hand finding your breast and gripping it forcefully as you moan.

“That feel good, baby?” He asks. You nod, whining and squirming against him now. “Know what would feel better?”

“W-what?”

He draws back, positioning the tip of his cock against your hole. Your breath catches as he slides inside the slightest amount. Just the tip.

“Would feel so good, right? Fillin’ you up, stretchin’ you,” he whispers. “You could keep me warm just like I’ve been keepin’ you warm all night.” You clench around him and he moans, hips flexing and sliding him deeper into you as you gasp. “So goddamn wet and tight.”

Joel slides the last bit deeper, until his hips are flush to your ass. You’re panting, cunt fluttering around him as you adjust, and he feels drunk on the feel of it, on the feel of you. He pulls out part way before sliding back in with a harsh thrust, the start of a punishing rhythm that has you chanting his name.

The slick slide of you over his cock feels like heaven, but he wants more, wants you cock drunk and earning your pleasure. You are supposed to be thanking him, after all.

He pulls out, lying on his back. “Get up here, sweetheart. It’s time to do your part.”

You turn until you’re facing him, and Joel gets impatient, grabbing at you until he can haul you into his lap, your slick, swollen pussy gliding over his cock. He groans, reaching between your bodies to hold himself steady, notching the thick head at your entrance.

“Take it, baby, come on,” he groans. You rock back until his cock is buried in your cunt, your knees pressing tight against his hips as you whine.

“S’deep,” you slur, rocking yourself over him.

“Feels good though, doesn’t it? So fuckin’ deep in you,” he growls. Your chest is pressed to his, your lips so close he takes his chance, slotting his mouth against yours.

You kiss him back, messy and desperate, moaning against his lips as you take his cock like you were made for it. And maybe you were. Why else would he have been in the right place at the right time, getting the chance to keep you all for himself?

You sit up further, hands planted on his chest as you ride him with fervor. Your blunt fingernails dig into his skin and make him groan, hips punching up into you as you rock back. When you moan desperately, he does it again, and again, until you’re letting out a choked little sob that makes his cock pulse inside of you.

“Come for me, honey, wanna feel this pretty pussy choke my cock,” Joel demands. He can feel your walls flutter around him, your noises growing desperate. He brings a hand to your clit, thumb circling the sensitive bundle of nerves until you tighten around him, squeezing his cock as you come undone with a shout.

You collapse forward and Joel wraps his arms around your low back, holding you steady as he plants his feet and pounds his cock into you with harsh thrusts, chasing his release. Your teeth dig into the sensitive skin of his neck and the sharp sting sends him over the edge. He pulls out at the last moment, his cum splashing between your bodies in thick spurts.

You lie on top of him, catching your breath. Sweat grows sticky on Joel’s skin as the cool air settles around them, your back erupting in goosebumps as you shiver. He maneuvers your bodies until you’re cradled against him again.

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

When you nestle closer, body lax against his, he smiles in triumph.

_______

You wake before Joel the next morning, body sticky with the mess from the night. You cringe, wiggling away from Joel’s hold. You find your discarded shirt and water bottle, intending to soak the fabric to wipe yourself clean, only to find your bottle is empty.

You locate Joel’s backpack, knowing he keeps his water bottle in there. You dig through the contents, hand bumping against the familiar bulk of a handgun. Your brow furrows. You haven’t seen Joel use a handgun. He uses the shotgun on his back, the other weapons you’d collected from the raiders stored in your bag.

You pull the weapon free and inspect it. You know this gun. It’s the same gun you’d learn to shoot with, the first one Liam found in the aftermath of the outbreak. Your blood turns to ice.

Joel said he’d seen Liam get attacked by a clicker. If that’s the case, when did he get Liam’s gun?

The sound of Joel moving in the sleeping bag has you shoving the gun back into his bag and grabbing the water bottle you’d gone in search of in the first place.

You’ll have to worry about your discovery some other day.

Want more Joel Miller? Check out the masterlist

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #no use of y/n #joel tlou #joel x reader #dark joel miller #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fic request #joel miller masterlist #the last of us

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fuckyeahfraxus · 1 month

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Fraxus Week

is approaching for yet another year!

We haven't forgotten or dropped this event! Due to admins' personal issues, it takes place around a different time this year. Thank you all so much for your patience and your continuous love and support ❣️

Save the dates and please help spreading the word as much as possible. Even if you don't plan on participating, it would be a great help if you share the post 😊. Every reblog helps us to get the information around, so nobody misses the oppourtunity ❣️

As every year we can't wait to see what you guys will come up with for the prompts and thank you for everyone who sent in their suggestions. We made sure to try and mix and match them well!! It's always a highlight of the year and it's so amazing to see that the love and fandom for this incredible ship still very much existent and strong. Newbie or oldie, we welcome you!

The week will being on the 31st of August with the first Bonus day (we call it Fraxus Week Eve) and end on the 8th of September with the second Bonus day, as usual. The rules haven’t changed but please make sure to read them again, especially if this is gonna be your first time participating.

So, the prompts, finally, - here goes!

August 31st/Fraxus Week Eve: (Dancing in the) Rain / Height of Summer

September 1st/Day 1: Learn how to love / Transformation

September 2nd/Day 2: Sports & Competition

September 3rd/Day 3: Hidden moments

September 4th/Day 4: Dusk/Dawn or Moonlight/Shooting Stars

September 5th/Day 5: Solace / Haunted

September 6th/Day 6: Mischief and Debauchery

September 7th/Day 7: Guildmates / Family

September 8th/Bonus day: Mythology AU/Crossover or Videogame/Movie AU/Crossover

RULES:

Everyone is allowed to participate and basically every sort of entry is allowed! Art, a fanfic, edits, headcanons, …everything! Just make sure that it has to do with Fraxus and does not imply something else/negative/other ships/trigger topics like r*pe etc! It also shouldn’t include something n.sfw. Entries bordering on n.sfw or suggestive mentions are alright.

Please put at least one of the tags fraxusweek or fraxus week in the first five tags of your entry! fraxus will suffice, too, if you forget to tag it otherwise but using the first two named tags will just make it easier for us to find the entries for this week! If you have twitter, you can also post your entries there with the tags!

You can also combine prompts, create multiple pieces per prompt or not use the prompts at all. If you’re not inspired by any of them, it’s okay to do your own thing or do something similar to the prompts.

The prompts can take place in the Canon Verse or an Alternate Universe, it's up to you!

Don’t worry about being late/on time! Late entries are always welcome, no matter how late. We know that things can get stressful very easily, so don’t worry about it!

Do not steal other people’s content! That won’t be accepted and that applies not only to this week but in general. Also refrain from reposting somebody's work without permission.

You can also submit your entries to our blog if you want.

If you’ve got any questions, just shoot us a an ask or a private message!

That’s it! We’re super looking forward to the event again. Let’s celebrate our beautiful ship!

The artwork on the banner is drawn by the absolutely lovely @intelligentbiscuit! We used it with their permission and want to give a shoutout for y'all to go and support their artwork! Y'all can find the original artwork post right >here< and they're also currently taking commissions. Thank you again for allowing us to use your artwork for the banner <3 😊

#fraxus #fairy tail #freed justine #laxus dreyar #freed x laxus #fraxus week 2024 #fraxusweek #fraxus week #admin post #intelligentbiscuit #ft100yq #fairy tail 100 years quest

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a-court-of-fics-and-errors · 3 months

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Keep Moving Forwards, Part 35

Image Source

Azriel x Reader Fic

Summary: After finally deciding to leave your abusive and manipulative mate for good, you find unexpected companionship with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. As you navigate the aftermath of your traumatic relationship, you struggle to understand where the mating bond went wrong and contemplate your path forward, vowing never to return to the past.

Find other parts here: Master List

To follow this fic, follow tag "Keep Moving Forwards Fic" or comment to be tagged in future parts.

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of extreme emotional manipulation and abuse, detailed descriptions of direct physical abuse, and scenes of men hunting women with implied sexual assault. Please read at your own risk.

Word Count: 7.2K - This definitely could have been split into multiple parts but I started foaming at the mouth and have no self control.

Author's Note: This is a multi-part series. Unlike my previous works, this fanfiction delves deeper than just fluff, exploring complex emotional landscapes. As I navigate this new writing journey, I kindly ask for gentle feedback. The topics addressed are profoundly impactful, touching many lives with diverse experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and others. Healing is a journey, and everyone processes it differently. Be kind to yourself. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn’t.

Please continue reading, being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.

Additional Note: You may have noticed that I’ve replaced all the images in previous parts with GIFs or photos linked to their original sources. A friend was helping me with the original images and I later found out they were primarily using AI-generated content. To support independent artistry, I’ve decided to remove those images and replace them with original works that include links to the sources. This decision aims to combat the negative impact AI can have on artists and creators. I apologize for the earlier oversight and will ensure to uphold artistic integrity going forward.

Three days. Three days in the House of Wind with just Azriel. The thought was exhilarating and a little terrifying, as you pondered the possibilities of what those days might hold. Azriel did have his personal home in Velaris, the Town House, but since your return, he had essentially relocated his life to the House of Wind to be near you. Now, you had three days of isolation with him, or so you thought.

Nesta paced about your room, her bare feet whispering against the plush blue carpet. You sat cross-legged on the bed, clutching a pillow in your lap as you watched her braided hair slowly unravel and the tension radiating from her every step.

“Why did I do that? That was so stupid,” she muttered, her eyes flicking anxiously around the room.

“Nesta, you have to tell him,” you said softly, your voice steady but gentle.

“I could have waited longer, and now I’ve put myself in this situation,” she groaned, rubbing her temples as she sank into the chair in the corner, her fingers tracing erratic circles on her skin.

“How long did you think you could hold off?” you asked, knowing the answer was not much longer.

“Longer than this! Longer than this weekend.” She huffed, her fingers now digging into her scalp.

“Do you really not want to go?” you asked, watching as she chewed her lower lip, avoiding your gaze.

“I don’t know,” she mumbled, her eyes darting to the floor.

You leaned back against the headboard, drawing your knees up. “You know, it’s probably going to be a little strange, given you asked to stay at the cabin and now you’re the one backing out.”

Nesta sighed. “I can’t back out now,” she said, her voice wavering, as if she were trying to convince herself more than you.

“You could always figure out a reason not to go,” you suggested, half-heartedly.

She peered up, her brows raised slightly as though the idea were preposterous. “Like what?”

You hesitated, knowing you shouldn’t encourage her reluctance, but the desperation in her eyes made you ignore your better judgment. “You could say you don’t feel well.”

Nesta scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “Yeah, like that won’t raise more questions.”

“Or you could say you just don’t want to go. That you’re not feeling up to it,” you offered, rolling your eyes slightly.

She leaned forward, burying her face in her hands, rubbing them up and down as a groan escaped her. “I can’t back out,” she finally sighed, leaning back again, “I need to just get it out there. I can’t hide from it if he’s standing right in front of me.”

“To be fair, he’s been standing in front of you for the last week, and you’ve been avoiding it,” you pointed out, your tone light but with a hint of sarcasm.

Nesta’s glare could have melted stone, her eyes sharp and venomous. “That’s different,” she snapped, before her hand unconsciously moved to rest on her womb, a tender touch to the life growing inside her. She turned to gaze out the tall windows overlooking Velaris, her eyes like reflecting pools of fear, guilt, and perhaps hope.

You observed her quietly, noting the new radiance pregnancy seemed to give her. Despite her worries, her skin glowed with a renewed vitality, her eyes, though filled with uncertainty, shone brighter, and her hair had gained a lustrous fullness. It was remarkable how quickly pregnancy transformed her. Your thoughts drifted to your own mother, wondering if she too had experienced that early glow, if she had known about her pregnancy at four months, or if you had been a secret she kept even from herself for as long as she could.

You tried to pull yourself from that daydream, reminding yourself that your mother was more a figment of your imagination than a memory. It felt childish to pretend she was anything more. “Nesta,” you began gently, “I can’t say I know exactly how you’re feeling.” Her eyes flicked to you, her finger tracing her lips absently. “And I won’t say everything’s going to be okay because, well, we both know that’s a promise I can’t keep.” Nesta’s delicate finger paused on her lower lip, her other hand pressing gently on her stomach as you continued, “But carrying all this stress alone,” you gestured to her, “it’s not good for you or the babe.”

Nesta’s eyes hardened, her throat bobbing as she swallowed. “Cassian wouldn’t want you to go through this by yourself,” you added softly.

Her gray eyes, clouded with grief, locked onto yours. You could see the inner struggle, the battle between her fear and the need to share her burden. Silver began to line her eyes, the tears she fought to hold back shimmering like tiny stars.

“It’s okay to be scared,” you whispered, leaning forward from the headboard. “It’s okay to worry about the worst and try to prepare for it.” As a single tear escaped down her flushed cheek, you added, “But it’s also okay to feel joy about this. To celebrate. This is a big deal, Nesta—this is amazing.”

She sniffled, her attempts to brush away the tears only making them fall faster. You offered a reassuring smile. “Enjoy these moments with Cassian. He’d want to share this with you.”

Nesta nodded, her tears now flowing freely despite her efforts to contain them. She sniffed, her smile watery but genuine. “What about you? Plan for this weekend?” she asked, clearly eager to shift the focus. ”

You looked down, rubbing your hands over your thighs, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “Not sure what you mean,” you muttered.

A crooked smile tugged at Nesta’s lips. “Three days alone with Azriel,” she reminded you, her voice laced with teasing.

You nodded, still fighting the blush spreading across your face and, perhaps, a few other places.

“No big plans?” she pressed.

You shook your head, “Nope. Nothing formal.”

“How’s everything going with Azriel?” she inquired, her tone growing more earnest.

You glanced up at her. “You mean with me and Azriel?”

She nodded, her gaze intent.

“It’s good. Things are good,” you said, your voice trailing off as you tried to keep your composure.

Nesta let a silence settle between you, her smile turning knowing, almost cheeky.

“What?” you asked, finally meeting her gaze.

Nesta shook her head, crossing one leg over the other casually. “Just seems like you two are enjoying each other's company a lot.”

“Yeah,” you admitted. “We do like spending time together.”

“A lot of time,” she added, her eyes twinkling.

You glanced at her, your cheeks burning. “We get along.”

Nesta’s catlike eyes gleamed with amusement. “You know, I’ve never seen Azriel look at anyone the way he looks at you.”

You didn’t respond, but her words struck a chord, making your heart race.

“It’s like he can sense when you’re about to enter the room and drops everything just to see you first,” she continued.

You shrugged, trying to deflect. “Isn’t that part of his job? To be observant?”

“Sure, but he doesn’t get that goofy smile for just anyone,” she teased.

You knew the smile she meant—the half grin Azriel couldn’t seem to suppress. You wanted to dismiss it as Nesta reading too much into things, but deep down, you couldn’t ignore that Azriel had confessed his feelings to you. Feelings he said he hadn’t even realized he had until you came along.

“So?” Nesta prompted, her voice light yet probing.

“So what?”

“So things are going very well then?” she asked, her question thinly veiled as a statement.

“Yes,” you admitted. “Things are going well.”

“And things…” she raised her eyebrows suggestively, “down south?”

Your eyes widened in shock.

“Oh come on,” she groaned, her hands slapping her thighs in exasperation. “You read as many of those smut books as I do. Give a girl some details.”

You laughed lightly, embarrassed but amused by her persistence.

“You know the boys have a joke about wingspan being related to… other sizes?” she said, wiggling her eyebrows.

You looked down at your hands, “No, I didn’t.”

“Mhm, and Azriel always goes oddly quiet when they bring it up.”

You giggled, making Nesta’s grin widen. “So… it’s good?” she pressed.

You shook your head, still laughing. “I wouldn’t know.”

Nesta’s face fell slightly, confusion clouding her features. “Wait, you mean you haven’t-?”

You shook your head, meeting her gaze. “We haven’t. Not yet.”

“But he’s been in your bed for months!” she exclaimed, a note of desperation in her voice.

You shrugged, feeling a mix of awkwardness and honesty. “We just,” you paused, “We haven’t gotten there yet.” And now pink rose to your cheeks for a different reason.

Nesta broke her gaze, her own face flushing with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

You cut her off gently, “No, it’s okay. I mean, it’s not like I haven’t thought about it.”

Her interest sparked again, though she still looked cautious. “Have you two talked about it at all?”

You pulled the pillow closer to your lap, your fingers nervously tracing nonexistent frays. “Not really.”

You’d shared more of your past with Nesta than with anyone else, down to the painful details you tried to bury. Her voice, gentle and filled with concern, asked, “Are you ready for that?”

You kept your eyes fixed on the pillow. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything you’re not comfortable with,” she began, her tone careful, “but I guess I just want to know if you’ve been intimate like that with anyone other than… him.”

A shudder ran through you at the thought of the 'him' she referred to, memories of past pain and harsh touches flooding back. “No,” you replied softly. “Not fully.”

Nesta nodded, understanding. “Do you think you’d want to try?”

You considered her question. Your body responded intensely to Azriel, your stomach fluttering at the thought of him, and his touch sent electric shocks through you. Physically, you were more than ready for something beyond mild petting. But those memories were powerful, and they had interfered before. They had with Kai, where attempts at intimacy had often triggered terrible flashbacks, forcing you to stop. Now, knowing that moments of vulnerability could open a line to Caelum, you worried if you could ever enjoy intimacy without the fear of what might slip through the bond. You looked up at Nesta, your voice trembling slightly, “I don’t want to go my entire life without being close to someone like that.”

Nesta gave you a gentle smile. “I think we both know that Azriel would understand.”

You returned a tight-lipped smile. You wanted to believe he would understand, that maybe he would even forgo that aspect if you asked. But then you thought of his skin against yours, the longing you felt for him, and the dream of a life you wanted, one that included closeness and a future you couldn’t have if you couldn’t be that intimate.

Nesta’s voice softened, almost a whisper. “I know it’s a little hypocritical, but,” she met your eyes, “just talk to him.”

She smiled softly, and you found yourself smiling back. You chucked the pillow across the room at her. She laughed, a bright sound that echoed through the room, and you laughed too. It felt good to laugh like that, to share a moment of joy with her, a moment that just felt normal.

—

Nesta made good on her word, and when the morning finally came for her and Cassian to set off, she did so with a determined gleam in her eyes. When she hugged you goodbye, she lingered a bit longer than usual. You couldn’t tell if the prolonged embrace was for her or you, or perhaps for both—a silent recognition of a weekend that might have you both coming back changed.

As for Azriel, he missed the departure, having been called to the River House by Rhysand early that morning. He’d roused you slightly as he pressed a kiss to your temple, urging you to go back to sleep, promising he’d return before Nesta and Cassian left. Apparently, that hadn’t been the case. You didn’t know when he’d come back, but as you wandered through the hall, hands mildly dirty from prepping the rooftop garden for overwintering, you paused by the library, rocking back on your heel as you saw the outline of wings.

Peeking through the entrance, you found Azriel at the writing desk, his hand pressed to his temple, his leg bouncing under the table. His boot squeaked softly on the floor as shadows curled around his feet like restless cats.

“Hey,” you chirped cheerfully, stepping into the room.

Azriel started slightly at your voice, turning to you with a surprised smile. “Oh, hey!” he replied, that goofy grin lighting up his face.

You walked over, wiping your hands on the small towel you'd brought with you before tucking it into your back pocket. “Where have you been?” you asked, leaning your hips against the desk, your body angled towards him.

Azriel’s hazel eyes, sparkling with mischief, met yours. “Got caught up with Rhys,” he said, leaning back in the chair, his hands interlocking behind his head, causing his biceps to flex slightly.

“Everything okay?” you asked, arching a brow, noticing the way his eyes seemed to brighten at the sight of you.

He cleared his throat, his posture relaxed yet commanding. “Yeah, yeah, fine.” But his tone betrayed a hint of uncertainty.

Deciding to trust that, like Nesta with Cassian, Azriel knew what he was doing, you chose not to pry into matters beyond your reach. Instead, you nodded, and his eyes flicked to your hands.

“You’ve been busy,” he noted, gesturing towards your fingers.

You glanced down, seeing dirt still peppered under your nails. You began to dig them out, a sheepish smile crossing your face. “Oh, yeah. Elain had me prepping the soil for overwintering, but I might have gotten a bit carried away.”

Azriel chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I don’t know how you manage it, but it seems like every time you walk away from me, you come back covered in grime.”

Feigning offense, you scoffed, “Okay, well, every time you leave, you come back smelling like actual shit and death.”

“I’m talking about leaving you alone for five minutes, and you come back like that,” Azriel countered, his grin widening.

You shrugged, a playful glint in your eyes. “What can I say? I like dirt.”

“Dirty girl,” he purred, his tone taking on a teasing edge.

Heat crept up your cheeks as you looked away, biting your lower lip to suppress a smile. “Gross,” you replied, though a laugh slipped through.

Azriel’s laugh was a low rumble as he stretched back in his chair, his wings flaring slightly. His black shirt rode up, revealing the tantalizing V-lines that disappeared beneath his waistband, along with a glimpse of his defined abs. You tried to keep your gaze on his face, but your eyes betrayed you, flicking down for just a moment.

As he straightened, catching the way you looked at him, Azriel’s smirk deepened. “Enjoying the view?”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the blush threatening to deepen. “Don’t flatter yourself, Shadowsinger.”

His chuckle was warm, and his eyes sparkled with teasing affection as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a soft, intimate murmur. “I think I already did.”

You rolled your eyes as you pushed off the desk, catching Azriel’s eyes trailing your hips as you walked away. It seemed he might have been entertaining thoughts of potential weekend activities himself. Letting yourself flop backward over the couch, you landed with a thud on your back, legs dangling lazily over the backrest. “Plans for the rest of the day?” you asked, casually picking at the dirt caked under your nails.

“Actually,” he replied, “I was wondering if you might be willing to do something for me.”

Your ears perked up just as you pulled a piece of your nail off completely, hissing slightly as a small bead of blood welled up in the tiny wound. “What is it?” you inquired, pressing your thumb to the spot.

“I have to meet someone from the Summer Court this afternoon.” Your heart sank a little, imagining Azriel’s weekend filling up with more responsibilities. “But I was supposed to pick up something from a shop in the city. If I drop you off, would you mind getting it? I can swing by and pick you up on my way back.”

You flipped your legs over the back of the couch, peering up over the crest of the sofa to meet Azriel’s eye. “Sure,” you agreed, though your voice lacked enthusiasm.

Azriel’s face relaxed, and the tension that had coiled around him when you walked in seemed to dissipate. “That would be fantastic, thank you.”

You smiled lightly, “Just let me clean up first,” you said, scooting off the couch.

“Thank the gods,” Azriel replied with mock relief. “I was worried I’d have to carry you down there smelling like dirt and sweat.”

As you walked out, you stuck your tongue out at him over your shoulder. He laughed, leaning back in his chair again, and you had to stop yourself from turning around to admire the view.

“Careful, you might catch flies,” Azriel called after you, his tone teasing.

You snorted, waving him off as you headed to clean up.

—

When you finally finished getting dressed after your shower, you opened the door to find Azriel standing across the hall. You jumped slightly, hand flying to your racing heart. “Gods, Azriel! We need to get you a bell or something.”

Azriel smirked lightly. “Ready to go?” He seemed anxious, perhaps pressed for time, though he hadn’t exactly given you any.

“Now?” you asked, blinking in surprise.

Azriel glanced around in confusion. “Yes?”

“Oh, okay. That’s fine.” You opened the door wider as Azriel crossed the hallway, tossing you your jacket from the front entry hall.

It seemed he’d been waiting on you—how long, you had no idea. He threw open the balcony doors, letting the cool air rush in, a sharp reminder that winter was on its way. Azriel smiled over his shoulder, extending a scarred hand to you. “You haven’t told me what I’m getting for you yet,” you noted, taking his hand. He scooped you up under your knees, cradling you close as his wings took a few powerful flaps, lifting off the marble floor. Your stomach flipped at the quick descent down the mountainside.

“I wrote the address down for you. Just give them my name,” he said, the wind biting at the tips of your ears.

You furrowed your brow. “You’re not going to tell me what I’m picking up?”

Azriel glanced down at you, his smile widening. “What? You don’t trust me?”

You gave him an incredulous look. “Not even a hint?”

“Okay,” he responded, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Just trust me on this one. It’s nothing bad.”

“I’m not collecting the head or fingers of your enemies?” you joked.

Azriel chuckled, the sound reverberating through his chest. “That would be an errand I’d want to handle myself.”

“So it’s you who doesn’t trust me?” you countered playfully.

“I wouldn’t want to miss out on the fun,” he replied, smirking.

“Gross.”

“You love that word today, don’t you?”

“When I look at you, it’s the first word that comes to mind,” you shot back, your face breaking into a smile.

Azriel landed gracefully on a deserted sidestreet. “I’ll be back in about an hour,” he said, pulling a piece of parchment from his pocket. “Here.” He handed it to you, leaning in to place a light kiss on your temple.

You opened the paper, squinting at his neat, thin handwriting. No name of the building, but you recognized the street. “So I can’t know what I’m picking up or where I’m going?” you asked, looking up at him.

He rolled his eyes. “I’m going to be late. Consider it a trust exercise. Do you know where it is?”

“Well, I don’t know what ‘it’ is, but I do know where it is,” you replied.

“One hour. I’ll meet you there.”

You watched as he shot back up into the sky, wondering why, if he was meeting you there, he dropped you off a good fifteen-minute walk from your destination. But again, trust. So instead of calling out to question him, you sighed and began your trek through the city, shaking your head with a bemused smile.

Local shops were already setting out items for Winter Solstice gifts, the streets adorned with twinkling lights and festive decorations. Your heart ached a bit, reminded of how different your life had been just a year ago. For a moment, you wondered if you had moved on too quickly from everything that had happened. You shook the thought away; dwelling on others’ perceptions of your healing wouldn’t help. Or at least, that’s what you tried to remind yourself.

You knew the shortest route to this particular street cut through the city near the entry gate, but the memories there were too sharp to face today. So, you opted for a longer, winding path, adding about ten minutes to your walk. The detour gave you a moment to breathe, to let the festive atmosphere seep in without the weight of the past pressing down too hard.

When you finally reached the correct street, you followed the numbers until you stood in front of a small bakery. The sweet scents of fresh breads and pastries swirled out from under the door, mingling with the crisp winter air. You rechecked the address Azriel had given you. This was definitely the place. Stepping up to the front door, your mouth watered at the sight of cranberry tarts with their crystalline sugar gleaming in the window, boxes of dark chocolates overflowing with cream, ganache, and fruit, and cakes delicately frosted with winter themes of ice and snow.

The bell above the door chimed softly as you entered, the warm, cozy interior a sharp contrast to the chill outside. Your eyes adjusted to the dim, inviting light, and you noticed a few other patrons standing in front of the large glass counter, debating their purchases. You approached the rather plump, cheery-eyed male at the register.

“Hi,” you greeted as he smiled down at you. “I’m here to pick up something for Azriel.”

“Oh!” The male’s eyes lit up with recognition. He nodded and disappeared into the back of the bakery. You must have been in the right place. While you waited, you watched a female baker behind the counter delicately package pastel macarons into a cellophane box, her hands flying yet precise as she tied a pastel blue ribbon over the top.

The male reappeared, holding a small white box secured with red twine. He handed it over the counter with a broad smile. You thanked him, looking down at the box with curiosity, slightly disappointed that you couldn’t see its contents like the macarons on display.

Given that the sun was beginning to set, you figured you didn’t have much time left before Azriel would come to retrieve you. With the mystery box in hand, you crossed the street and sat on a bench, pulling your jacket tighter around you as you watched fae bustle by.

A few small children barreled down the street, chasing each other and giggling wildly. They stopped in front of the bakery, pressing their noses to the glass, their eyes wide with longing for the delectable treats inside. You watched as the female baker inside noticed their hungry faces. She smiled warmly at them, exchanged a few words with the male baker, and then disappeared into the backroom.

Moments later, she emerged with a white paper bag and stepped outside, beckoning the children closer. They approached cautiously, eyes alight with excitement. She handed them the bag, her smile radiant as she reminded them to share.

The children eagerly took the bag from the baker, nearly ripping it as they peered inside. Their eyes lit up with delight as they distributed various cookies and candies among themselves. You smiled, remembering how, when you were young, the baker Henri used to give you scones that hadn’t sold the day before. A memory that once included your mother, now replaced by Titania. There was something comforting about these children, nearly a century later, still engaging in the same rituals. Adults continuing to offer sweets from the kindness of their hearts, expecting nothing in return but a smile and the hope that these children might someday pass on the same acts of kindness.

You heard footsteps crunching on the sidewalk next to you and looked up to see two large, winged shadows approaching. Azriel’s face was partially obscured by the late afternoon sun. He took a seat next to you, crossing his legs casually and draping his arms over the backrest of the bench, one foot jostling slightly.

“Hey,” you greeted, moving the box to the other side of you.

“Hi,” he replied, his warm smile melting away the chill in your bones.

“All set?” you asked. He nodded. “How did it go?”

His face conveyed a sort of nonchalance, his mouth twitching slightly downward but not quite frowning. “Fine,” was all he said, shrugging. “How was your little errand?” He cocked an eyebrow, glancing at the white box.

You handed him the box, feeling its light weight in your hands. “Fine, I think.”

Azriel took the box from you, untying the twine and turning slightly away to examine the contents. You strained to see over his shoulder, but one large wing blocked your view.

“If all you wanted were pastries, why be so secretive?” you scoffed, amused, as he replaced the lid and turned back to you with a cheeky grin.

He rolled his eyes. “Can’t a male have a little fun?”

You huffed, your eyes scanning his face. There was something about his presence you couldn’t quite place. The look of hesitation behind his eyes, the continuous bouncing foot, and the odd secrecy made you think Azriel might be nervous about something. But what, you couldn’t quite figure out.

“Ready to go?” he asked quickly, standing and adjusting his jacket. You watched him, taking the hand he extended to you, agreeing quietly while complaining slightly about the cold. He just called you a crybaby in response.

The two of you walked through the streets, searching for a quieter sidestreet where Azriel could fully stretch his wings for takeoff. When you finally found one, he picked you up gracefully, asking you to hold the pastry box, which you obliged. The entire flight home, you debated just opening the lid for a peek inside.

As you landed back on the marble balcony, Azriel gently placed you on your feet. You adjusted your top, smoothing the fabric with a quick tug, while he reached for the double doors and swung them open, reclaiming the white pastry box from you. The warm glow of the fire beckoned from within, its gentle crackling drawing you closer. You shrugged off your jacket, tossing it casually onto the bed as you entered the room.

“Thanks,” Azriel’s voice followed you. “For doing this for me.”

You gave a nonchalant shrug, flopping down onto the plush bed, your arms stretching upwards as you tried to ease the ache in your muscles. “No worries.” You expected Azriel to make a swift exit, eager to tackle the next task on his agenda, but he lingered. Standing near the double doors, his eyes stayed on you, a quiet intensity in his gaze.

Lifting your head off the bed, you noticed his prolonged stare. Feeling a bit self-conscious, you asked hesitantly, “Everything okay?”

Azriel snapped out of his reverie, his scarred finger tracing the twine of the pastry box absentmindedly. “Yeah, it’s fine,” he replied shortly, a touch of awkwardness in his voice. “Dinner?”

At his offer, you sprang up from the bed with eagerness. “Yes! I’m starving,” you exclaimed, your voice edged with a playful whine.

Azriel’s lips twitched into a soft, fleeting smile, the sound of a light laugh escaping him. As he started towards the door, you stumbled over your own feet, trying to kick off your boots in a rush. You fell into him, face-first against his chest, his warm laughter rumbling through you and making your stomach flutter. “Careful,” he chuckled, steadying you with a gentle hand.

“Sorry,” you murmured, pushing back slightly, your hands pressing against the hard muscle of his chest. You glanced up, your chin hovering mere inches from where your fingers rested.

Azriel’s gaze softened, his other hand still clutching the pastry box. With a slight nod, he led you out of the bedroom and down the hallway towards the kitchen. Normally, you and Nesta or Azriel would eat casually around the kitchen island, but tonight was different. Azriel walked past the kitchen doors, his pace quickening with a hint of excitement.

You paused in front of the kitchen, a confused look crossing your face. “Aren’t we eating?” you asked, glancing towards the familiar island.

Without stopping or turning back, Azriel urged, “Come on,” his tone carrying a trace of anticipation.

Puzzled but intrigued, you followed him, your stomach rumbling in sync with your growing curiosity. As you trailed behind him through the sunken living room and past the cozy library, you realized he was leading you towards the grand dining room. A room you had only seen used for formal family dinners hosted by Nesta.

Azriel reached the doorway, his imposing wings nearly filling the large frame. Turning to face you, his smile broadened, a spark of mischief in his eyes.

You couldn’t help but smile back, still trying to decipher his peculiar behavior. Azriel pushed open the door, stepping aside with a radiant, cheeky grin that made your heart skip a beat.

As you stepped through the doorway, Azriel trailing behind, your breath caught in your throat. In the center of the grand dining room, which typically housed a vast, imposing table fit for large gatherings and entertaining, stood a much smaller, more intimate table, set elegantly for two.

The table was adorned with an elegant lace tablecloth, its intricate patterns catching the flicker of candlelight. Candles were placed strategically around the room, their soft, golden glow dancing off the walls. The centerpiece was a lush arrangement of flowers, the key flowers being purple hyacinths—your favorites.

Your eyes were immediately drawn to the exquisite spread laid out on the table, a feast of your favorite dishes, each more mouthwatering than the last. Golden roast chicken, perfectly seasoned with a medley of colorful, caramelized vegetables, parsnips, and baby potatoes crisping in the tray. A bowl next to it held bright, emerald-green steamed asparagus drizzled with a cream sauce, a favorite that Titania used to make for you as a child, you had recently learned. Sautéed mushrooms and wild rice pilaf made your mouth water, and a few freshly baked rolls, still warm from the oven, rested in a basket lined with a blue towel.

You stood there, momentarily stunned by the sheer meticulous effort placed on each part of the room and table. You couldn’t conceive of any other food on the table that wasn’t one of your favorites, as though someone had crawled into your mind, into your childhood, and handpicked out the moments you held with reverie. Azriel came to stand next to a chair, pulling it out slightly as you approached.

“Az, this is—” you stammered. “How did you—?”

Azriel merely chuckled as you took your seat, sliding it in behind you, then crossing around, pouring a sparkling purple wine into a crystal-clear glass and passing it to you.

“This is,” the words couldn’t even come to your mouth as you took the glass, staring down at the food in front of you. “This is insane.”

Azriel poured himself a glass, swirling it lightly as he gazed across at you, his eyes twinkling with amusement as you tried to get your mouth to close from awe. He took a light sip from the cup, the first taste hitting his palate as his face scrunched up, eyebrows drawing together and then widening in surprise before narrowing into discomfort. He peered into the glass, mildly confused, and then slowly processed the unexpected saccharine assault on his taste buds, followed by a sharp exhale through his nose. “This is so sweet,” he said, shoulders and wings rising in an involuntary shudder.

You looked down into your own glass, the sweet aroma of blackberries filling your nostrils as you took a tentative sip. You were greeted with an intense burst of blackberry flavor, as if a handful of the plumpest berries had been freshly crushed, the taste rich and succulent with small hints of dark chocolate and vanilla coating your throat. You almost moaned in sensual delight. Your eyes shut as you melted into your chair. You finally managed to moan out, “This is delicious.”

Your eyes fluttered open to see Azriel swirling the wine in his glass, peering into it with his mouth pulled up in a sneer as though a fly had landed in it. “Oh come on,” you said, taking another sip.

Azriel’s eyes flicked back to you, his sneer growing more exaggerated. “You actually like this stuff?”

“What about it don’t you like?” you asked, your tone slightly accusatory.

“It tastes like pure sugar,” he responded flatly.

“No, it doesn’t! It tastes like blackberries.”

“Blackberries that have been coated in sugar.” He glanced into it again, “There’s probably one blackberry for three cups of sugar.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning back against your chair as you took another delectable sip, eyes shutting again as you felt the warmth of the wine trickle down your throat. You hadn’t had this kind of wine since—

Your eyes shot back open as Azriel tried another sip, the same reaction flying from him. “How did you know I liked blackberry wine?”

Azriel seemed to pause in stillness as he gulped down his drink. “Lucky guess?” he offered.

You shook your head, leaning forward. “You were spying on me,” you said, eyes narrowing.

Azriel’s own eyes went hollow as he considered the best way out of this situation. “I wasn’t intending to.”

You laughed lightly, “So your shadows just followed me around on their own accord?”

At that, you felt the cool breeze around your ankle as one shadow skirted past you. “To be fair,” Azriel offered, “they are fond of you.”

Your gaze turned into a glare as Azriel tried to dig himself out. He placed his glass on the table, leaning his elbows onto it, eyes lined with sincerity. “Look, it was right after you left, and I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“So how long were you watching me?” you asked, slightly more forcefully.

Azriel’s palms faced upward. “Only until it seemed you and Kai were getting more serious.” He paused. You scanned his face for any sign of deception but found none. Only pure sincerity. “Once you seemed like you had someone to rely on, I stopped.”

You leaned back, calming yourself again. In truth, you weren’t too upset that it seemed Azriel had been pining after you much longer than you had thought. Not to mention that knowing there was someone watching over you who wasn’t your mate allowed you to breathe a bit of a sigh of relief. You picked up the glass, swirling it so the sweet wine scent hit your nose again, breathing it in deeply.

“So you’ve seen me drunk?” you asked, taking another sip, eyes heavy as you cocked a brow at Azriel.

Azriel chewed his lower lip, trying to contain a slight smile playing at his lips. “Perhaps,” he offered back.

You quickly tried to sift through your memories, wondering about the things you had said or done that might now cause some embarrassment. “You’re giggly when you’re drunk,” Azriel remarked, a playful glint in his eye.

You set your glass down on the table, leaning forward as he carved a piece of chicken for you, placing it on your plate. The warm juices from the pan flowed onto the dish, tantalizing your senses. “And what are you like?” you inquired, arching a brow.

Azriel let out a breathy laugh as he served himself. You grabbed the tongs, dishing asparagus onto both your plates. “I haven’t gotten drunk in a long time.”

You handed over the tray to him as he passed you the rolls. “How long is a long time?”

Azriel pondered for a moment, setting the pan back down on the table. “Half a century?” he responded, sounding like he was questioning his own memory.

You picked up your fork, eyeing him with a smirk. “Sometimes I forget you’re ancient,” you quipped, taking a bite of the chicken. The savory sauce melted in your mouth, making you moan with delight.

Azriel rolled his eyes. “It stops being important once you turn one hundred.”

You opened your eyes again, taking another greedy bite. “That’s what someone who’s too old and boring to get drunk would say,” you teased.

“I got my days of heavy drinking out of the way before I took on one of the most important roles in the Night Court,” he countered, leaning back. “It’s not exactly a good look to be falling all over yourself in front of those in power.”

You scoffed, “Cassian seems to have no problem with it.” It’s true, Cassian seized every opportunity to get absolutely sloshed at formal events, often challenging other warriors to drinking contests.

“Let’s not use Cassian as our standard for formality,” Azriel replied with a chuckle. “But when I used to get drunk, I’m told I got rather chatty.”

You almost choked on your food. “Chatty?” you questioned, wide-eyed.

Azriel flicked his eyes at you from under his brows as he took a bite. “Is that surprising?”

You shrugged, chewing a bit more carefully this time. “Chatty with everyone? Or just the people you know?”

Azriel leaned back in the chair, his wings casually lounged behind him. “According to Rhys and Mor, everyone.”

The thought of Azriel being the life of the conversation somewhere in a bar in Velaris, chatting it up with strangers, almost made you laugh out loud. “I’m sure you were fun at parties,” you offered, swallowing down your bite with another glass of wine.

“I would say I still am,” he replied, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

“You think fun is brooding in the corner?”

“You’ve only ever seen me at Night Court events,” he countered.

“But you’re a party animal at the tavern?” Azriel rolled his eyes. “Maybe that’s why you don’t like sweet wines,” you teased, leaning over the table. “You’re too old to enjoy something so youthful. You’d rather have a dry glass of white wine or some liquor that burns like firestarter.”

Azriel scoffed at you. “Am I going to regret doing all this for you?” he joked back.

You smiled at him sweetly, looking back down at your plate. “No,” you replied, a touch quieter and sincere. “This is amazing. Thank you.”

Azriel’s face lit up slightly at your response. “I just thought you deserved a nice night,” he said.

You gestured to the table, “You really got all my favorites, even the ones I haven’t told you about or eaten in front of you.”

Azriel glanced toward the ceiling. “I’ll admit, the House did provide me with some insight on things you ask for late at night.”

You followed his gaze up, whispering in a hiss, “Those moments were supposed to be secret.”

Azriel laughed, “That and Titania helped fill me in on the rest.”

You ran your finger around the rim of your glass, heart and belly slowly filling with a feeling of deep adoration and joy. “This is really nice,” you finally whispered.

Azriel reached a scarred hand across the table to you, taking yours. “You deserve to enjoy the things you love,” he offered, his voice filled with quiet sincerity.

Azriel shared with you that, unlike what you might have considered, he actually prepared all the dishes himself. He prepped the meal early in the morning with the help of Nuala and Cerridwen at the River House and then took the hour he had misled you into going to the bakery to set everything up. He really had thought of everything.

As you settled back in your chair, the plate nearly licked clean, you let out a sigh of gratification. Azriel, who had indeed brought out some nasty liquor you refused to try despite his imploring, swirled his glass across from you. His eyes lit up suddenly as he jumped from the table. “I almost forgot!”

You straightened slightly as he brought out the white box from the bakery, setting it in front of you to open. You glanced up at him, smiling. “You made me get my own dessert?” you teased.

“Oh yeah, I’m so sorry,” he replied sarcastically. “How foolish of me to ask you to do one thing so I could do all of this for you.” He gestured around the room with a dramatic flourish.

You smiled back as you undid the twine, peeking in at two delicately crafted tarts. The rhubarb, lemon, and berry compote glistened up at you, the crust perfectly crisped. Your mouth fell open again as Azriel looked down at you, joy in his eyes. You peered back up at him, “These are the tarts that Elain made when I first came here,” you said, breathless.

Azriel shrugged, “Not the exact ones. But they’re as close as I could get to the real thing without cluing Elain in.” In fairness, Elain couldn’t keep a secret, and for something of this nature, which included romance and food, she would have spilled every detail the second Azriel told her.

You found your hand seeking Azriel’s as you marveled at the beautiful little desserts, eyes welling up with emotion. This entire dinner was a three-course journey through your life, from childhood to now, all prepared for you, all a reflection of who you were and the things you had experienced. You felt a tear start to fall, but Azriel caught it, tilting your head up to face him, his own eyes filled with a sincerity and care you don’t know if anyone had ever had for you before. “Thank you,” you whispered lightly.

Azriel leaned down, his lips meeting yours, the oils from the chicken mingling with the sweet wine on your own lips. While you could taste the fiery hint of his drink, you didn’t pull away, lost in the soft caress of his lips as his thumb drew a lazy line down your face, his other hand coming to cup the other side. The kiss held no intensity other than pure adoration, care, and unbridled joy. When he pulled back, Azriel smiled down at you again, and you giggled lightly when he reached into the box, pulling out one of the tarts with his hands and taking a crumbling bite from it.

“Hey!” you protested, laughing as he chewed. “That’s mine!”

Azriel shrugged, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Consider it a toll for the perfect evening.”

To my readers, I'm hot, bothered, and need to be put back into my enclosure. We about to get wild: @thatacotargirl @mcuamerica @lilah-asteria @florabelll @fightmedraco @marvelbros-oneshots @mariahoedt @quinzzelx @romantasyreader28 @minnieoo @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @annabethgranger123 @krowiathemythologynerd @scatteredstardustt @caroline-books @slytherintaco @sevikas-whore @sidthedollface2 @sleepylunarwolf @acourtofbatboydreams @quiettuba @julesofvolterra @skylarkalchemist @darling006 @loglady00 @caninnes

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gigabyte-flare · 1 year

Text

There's No Escape (Part 4)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Summary: You inadvertently discover one of Leon's trauma triggers, piquing your curiosity as you to try to figure out why he is the way he is.

Pairing: yandere!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Word Count: 3k

If any of the warnings below trigger you, please kindly pass on this fic

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life; if you feel this way, please go touch grass. You are solely responsible for your own content consumption

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT OR I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL YEET YOU INTO THE GODDAMN SUN. Thank you!

Warnings (may not apply to all parts): Sex, gaslighting, swearing, stalking, acts of violence, blood, dubcon, kidnapping, pet names (baby, doll, angel, sweetheart, etc.), PTSD triggers, unprotected sex, forced breeding, daddy kink, manipulation, oral (m and f receiving), choking, overstimulation, knife play, gunplay, masterbation, drugging. Long story short, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. More warnings could be added in the future.

Tags: @lipglossanon, @ghostkennedy, @explorevenus, @nexyswrites, @ilookatlater, @shroomietrip, @dollrxst, @lomaeuwu, @aliet, @luniaxifics (Shoot me a message or an ask if you want to be added to the list!)

A/N: Holy shit you have no idea how happy I am to finally get this out. I had originally written out something completely different from what this ended up being, but I hated where it was going, so I changed it. Definitely like this better. It does get pretty intense in this one, but then it gets kind of fluffy and then there's some angst. As always, please excuse any grammatical errors. Enjoy!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You awoke to the most intense feeling of pleasure washing over you. A tongue swirling over your sensitive clit along with at least two fingers digging inside you, hitting your g-spot oh, so right. You arch your back as you push your head back into the pillow, your eyes still closed as you let out a soft moan.

You open your eyes, sit up on your elbows and look down, seeing Leon kneeling at the end of the bed, your legs draped over his shoulders as he ate you out and fucked you with his fingers. In that moment, the recollection of where you were and how you got there rushed at you all at once, causing you to tense up completely. Leon stops what he’s doing and looks up at you, his lips drenched from your juices and the remnants of his release from the night before.

“Oh, sorry princess! Did I wake you?”

You think about giving him a good kick in the face, but you were so drained, plus you weren’t keen on getting put in timeout and chained to the wall again. Resigning to your current situation, you lay back down, giving him a wave of your hand for him to continue. Instantly you feel his lips sucking on your clit, causing your legs to twitch as his fingers continue their assault on your g-spot.

As much as you hated this man, there was no denying that he was extremely good at taking care of you, knowing exactly which buttons to push. It’s likely why you tolerated his sick, demented mind for as long as you had before escaping.

Your whole body begins to tremble as you inch closer to your release, your legs clenching to his powerful shoulders. Your right hand runs through his hair as you let out a loud moan.

“D-Daddy… I’m so close!” you cry out, your fingers digging into the back of his head.

You feel him smile around your clit as his fingers begin to pound into you, and in an instant you snap, soaking his fingers with your release as you cry out. You feel him pull his fingers out of you, you sit back up to look down at him.

“What a good girl,” he purrs, licking your juices from his fingers like it was candy, “Daddy’s going to get cleaned up, then I’ll make us breakfast, ‘k pumpkin?”

You watch him stand up and go into an adjacent room, which you assume is the master bathroom. You hear the sink run for a couple minutes as you get up from bed, your legs extremely unsteady between last night and this morning. You approach the closet and open it. You don’t see your clothes, however you do see a large navy blue t-shirt you could use. Pulling it out, you see the faded letters say ‘R.P.D.’. Pulling your sweaty t-shirt off and tossing it into the laundry basket on the floor in the closet, you pull the new t-shirt over your head.

It didn’t quite cover your lower region, so you found a pair of his boxer shorts to put on with it. You felt gross wearing his clothes, but it was better than being naked, which you figured Leon would enjoy way too much; you couldn’t have that. Turning around, you find Leon standing in the doorway of the bathroom, staring at you in awe.

Maybe you were better off naked…

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Later that afternoon, you were in the living room trying to hook up your game console as Leon worked on paperwork for his job in an adjacent office. His only instruction was that you weren’t too loud. Once you got it hooked up, you sat on the floor, cross-legged, as you went through the small pile of games that Leon had grabbed from your apartment prior to bringing you here.

You decide to put in a game called Dead Rising, a game about a photographer stuck in a mall infested with zombies that you could grab pretty much anything you could use as a weapon to kill the zombie horde with. You needed an outlet for your pent up frustration at your situation. As you boot up the game console, you make note of the clicking sounds coming from Leon’s office, letting you know he was distracted with his work.

You get the game booted up, and immediately you get to work killing as many zombies as possible. You catch yourself smiling, this is the most normal you have felt in over three months. You pause the game for a moment to adjust yourself on the floor, one of your legs is starting to fall asleep. You happen to glance down at your shirt.

You wonder what R.P.D. stands for…

P.D. clearly meant police department, and given Leon’s current occupation of ‘government agent,’ you wouldn’t be surprised if Leon had been a cop at some point, although he neglected to mention that when you first met him. Odd. You unpause the game and continue your undead killing rampage, that smile of content returning to your face as you let out a sigh, completely oblivious to the fact that the clicking of Leon’s keyboard had stopped.

The TV suddenly explodes in a burst of sparks, loud bangs ringing in your ears as you sit there in complete shock. As the smoke clears you see three holes in the TV which you immediately recognize are bullet holes. Before you’re able to process what just happened, you feel Leon’s hand grab you by your hair, forcing you to your feet, he practically drags you out of the room.

“Ow, son of a bitch, Leon! What the hell?! What did I do?!”

“Out of all the games you could play, you had to pick one with fucking zombies in it,” Leon growled, pulling you towards the timeout room.

“No, no, no, NO! I’ve been so good, why are you putting me in timeout?!” you cry out, trying to struggle against him.

He whips the timeout room door open, tossing you onto the bed, slamming the door behind him. He grabs you by your throat, bringing you up to the collar, making short work of clamping it around your neck. He didn’t bother with the other chains.

“Will you at least tell me what I did wro--”

You are suddenly smacked across the face with a very heavy object, your vision blurs for a second as your head rings. You feel blood start to drip out from your mouth; you must have bit your tongue when you were hit. You realize quickly that the heavy object was one of Leon’s prized pistols.

“For starters…” Leon growled, once again grabbing you by your hair, pulling your head back as you felt the muzzle of the pistol under your chin, “you didn’t call me, Daddy. And you swore at me, again.”

“D-Daddy I’m sorry! I just don’t know what I did wrong!” I sob, tears streaming down your face as blood trickles from your mouth.

“You just had to play something with fucking zombies in it!” Leon shouted.

You can’t help but raise an eyebrow at him. You’ve seen Leon angry before, but you’ve never seen Leon this irate, and about a zombie video game of all things.

You swallow hard, “Daddy… zombies aren’t real… it was just a video game…”

Much to your surprise, Leon lets out a boisterous laugh, “oh sweetheart, what I’d give to be as ignorant as you.”

“W-What are you talking about…?”

“You have no idea what I’ve been through, princess. How much I have lost.”

You stare at him dumbfounded, having absolutely no clue what he’s referring to.

“I promised myself, I would never lose anything ever again. And that includes you, princess.”

You feel Leon move the muzzle of his pistol away from your chin, causing you to release a sigh of relief, but watch in horror as Leon proceeds to lick the barrel of his gun.

Oh my god, he’s completely lost his mind… as if you had any doubt of that before.

“When you left me, do you have any idea how much that crushed me? Did you even think for one second how that would make me feel, after everything I have done for you?”

Your throat is so dry from the blood running down your throat, but thankfully blood is no longer dripping out of your mouth, however, dry bits of blood coat your lips.

“I-I’m so sorry… I… I had no idea…”

His grip on your hair tightens as he stares down at you, his blue eyes wide and wild for a moment before his expression softens. You are relieved when he lets go of your hair.

“You know what, sweetheart? You’re right. How could you have known?”

He places the pistol on the bedside table before climbing on top of you, kissing you deeply.

“Let Daddy play with you and you can come out of timeout, ok, sweetheart?” 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Leon hated hurting you, but you made it so fucking hard not to when you would constantly misbehave. But truly, how could you have known how deeply scarred he was from that night in Raccoon City? The public had no clue what had happened. They knew the city was sectioned off due to a mystery outbreak and rumors flew around how the government fired missiles at it.

If only people knew the truth.

You nodded at his request, instantly warming his heart, pushing the nightmares away from his mind. He removed the collar off your neck and he made short work of pulling his old Raccoon Police Department shirt off over your head and tossing it aside. His hands latch onto both your breasts, squeezing tight before rubbing both your nipples between his middle fingers and thumbs, causing you to squirm.

He pulls his boxer shorts off you, and he takes a moment to admire your soaked hole. He loved how much your body clearly wanted him. He reaches down, his middle and ring finger slipping inside you easily as his thumb gently rubs circles into your clit.

He watches in delight as you arch your back, moaning loudly as you reach your arms up, gripping the pillow behind your head. He continued to expertly fuck you with his fingers, a smirk overtaking his lips as he watches you clearly enjoying this.

“D-Daddy… please.. Inside!”

“Oh?” he couldn’t help but smile, “you want Daddy inside you now? Oh what a good girl you are!”

He hadn’t heard you ask him to fuck you since you first moved in with him and it absolutely thrills him. Pulling his own shirt off, followed shortly by the rest of his clothing, Leon undresses himself and climbs on top of you, settling his hips between your legs, his cock slipping inside you with ease.

Because you were made just for him.

He moves his hips rhythmically, pushing deep inside you rather than flat out pounding into you. You were being such a good girl for him and he wanted you to enjoy this as much as he was. He looks down at you so lovingly, cupping your face in his hands before kissing you.

He’s immediately taken back to his first date with you. He had taken you to a fancy restaurant in D.C. before you both went and saw a movie together. Afterwards, he dropped you off at your apartment on the other side of town, but you invited him inside. It didn’t take him long to coax your clothes off you and let him have his way with you; just like it didn’t take long for him to convince you to move in with him, that way you were never out of his sight. You were so perfect, and you were the only one that could hold the demons of his past away.

He began to move his hips more aggressively, eliciting more loud moans out of you along with a generous mix of ‘Daddy’ and ‘Leon.’ You drape your arms around his shoulders as he continues to kiss you eagerly.

“Daddy… Pl-Please let me cum…!” you moan into his kiss.

“Of course, my princess, you’ve been such a good girl, Daddy will let you cum.”

You cry out as you cum all over his cock, he can feel your juices coat him as he pushes into you, coming undone himself as he lets out a low growl. He collapses beside you, rubbing your belly as you cuddle into him. He wraps his arms around you, kissing the top of your head.

“I love you so much, babygirl,” he says softly, inhaling the scent of your hair.

It doesn’t take long until you are fast asleep in his embrace, it comforted him knowing you felt safe falling asleep in his arms.

He is so happy you are finally starting to give in to him.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

You wake up to the sound of Leon climbing out of bed, immediately disgusted at yourself. You had given in to his advances last night, he hated how he could make you feel so good. You rub your eyes before sitting up, watching as Leon gets dressed. You realize you’re still in the timeout room.

“I have to run into town to get a new TV to replace the… one that I shot. Can I trust that you’re going to be a good girl while Daddy’s gone?” Leon asked as he finished putting his clothes on.

“Y-Yeah…” you say, your eyes still heavy-lidded from just waking up.

“Good,” Leon replies, “I brought in your clothes, I had them in the Jeep. They’re in the closet in the bedroom.”

You climb out of bed and follow Leon out of the timeout room and into the master bedroom where he opens the closet door, showing you that your clothes were indeed there.

“Alright, I gotta go, I’ll be back as soon as I can ok?” He kisses your forehead before leaving you in the bedroom.

You don’t move until you hear the front door open, then shut, and then lock. You grab one of your t-shirts with a pair of jeans along with a set of underwear. Once dressed, you walk into the living room and find Leon had already taken care of the very broken TV. You then immediately notice his office door is open.

He had an office in the apartment in D.C., too, but it was never open. Mustering your courage, you slowly approach the office, you see papers scattered all over the desk, you pick them up and read them, most of it government nonsense that you didn’t care to understand. There are drawers in the desk, you open one of them to find a series of files. One of them immediately caught your attention.

It was labeled ‘Raccoon City Incident.’

The manilla folder had a large CLASSIFIED stamp on it but that did not deter your curiosity. The folder is stuffed full of different documents, you quickly glance over them, quickly growing mortified at the contents that you skim through.

Hundreds of thousands infected… viral outbreak… undead… T-Virus… G-Virus… nuclear sterilization…

“What the fuck…?” you say to yourself in complete disbelief over what you were reading, this is some video game bullshit…

Suddenly, a photo fell out from the documents face down. You quickly pick it up and turn it around. You gasp; it’s a photo of Leon. He clearly was a lot younger in this photo, wearing damaged tactical gear that had ‘R.P.D.’ printed on the front. It suddenly occurred to you what the print on Leon’s shirt stood for.

Raccoon Police Department.

Your eyes widen at this revelation as you look back down at the photo. Even though he clearly went through hell, he had a light in his eyes that was nowhere to be seen now, it honestly broke your heart. You put the manilla folder back together and put it back into the drawer with the others. However, there’s another one that catches your eye, this one is labeled ‘Kennedy Report.’

You sit in the office chair as you open the folder, reading through the documents. This one talked about a parasite rather than a virus and how a cult leader had infected an entire village plus the president’s daughter that had gotten kidnapped by the cult and… Leon?!

You had to re-read the sentence a few times to make sure you had read it correctly. Leon was infected with this parasite? You start to wonder if there’s a chance that he was still infected when you read that he and the president’s daughter successfully removed the parasite from each other. You low key hoped he was still infected, it would have at least explained his demeanor. You continue to read the report before you suddenly hear the front door open.

“Sweetie, I’m back!”

“Oh shit!” you say quietly as you carefully put the folder back in the drawer, making sure to close the drawer silently.

You scramble out of the office, making sure to shut the door. Just as you step away from the office door, Leon comes into the living room with the new TV, placing it in the spot where the old TV was and plugging it in.

“There we go, all better!” he says, turning around to look at you, “and there’s my good girl.”

You give him a weak smile as you nod. You can’t help but look at him in a different light, now knowing the darkness of his past that you were almost certain he did not want to you to see.

Part 5

#yandere!leon kennedy x reader #yandere!leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader smut #there's no escape #gigabyte writes

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bucketsofmonsters · 1 year

Text

The Witch's Apprentice - Part 5

cw: demon summoning, prolonged isolation, size difference, non-human genitalia, oral sex, agoraphobia, magical branding, more tags will be added as the story continues

male demon x afab reader

Word count: 4k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

By your third week of being locked in your room, you felt like you might lose your mind.

Considering you’d been locked in the house for years you’d think the room wouldn’t be so bad. The actual space wasn’t that much smaller but the real problem was that there was nothing to do. Everything you’d been busying yourself with for years was locked outside, your books, your garden, your best friend.

Any pretense of freedom had disappeared. You could no longer go outside, chose what to do with your day, or see another living thing.

Well, most living things.

Eden had soundproofed all of the rooms for her own usage, so no one overheard anything she didn’t want them to. She knew how to break through it and project sound through the walls, something you’d never learned to do. However, you had no qualms about using the soundproofing to your advantage.

Lucien was less and less incredulous with every new time you summoned him. What do you want’s turned into easy greetings and his exasperation with you faded, although he seemed loathe to let you notice.

The summonings had become almost daily events.

You never made it more than an hour or two without at least giving it a shot. Your lack of actual summoning materials or techniques made it so he didn’t strictly have to come, could just decide not to show up, but he almost always did, choosing to stay with you for hours on end.

Every now and then he’d drop out, feeling a tug of being summoned by some other witch before he’d pop back, unsummoned and of his own choosing.

Today you were laying back on your bed while he sat on the floor. Even sitting, he was tall enough that your heads were roughly in line with one another.

You never did much. You would ask him question after question and watch as his answers got more and more evasive, not even to hide anything but seemingly doing it just because he could. He spoke in circles just to watch your head spin and see how long it would take before the questions stopped in favor of throwing pillows at him.

All the pillows lay scattered around him leaving you tragically out of ammo. You supposed you’d just have to hope that he’d had a change of heart in his neverending quest to irritate you.

It never worked. Not really.

Even if it weren’t for the boredom that made you cling to every word, there way something almost charming about his refusal to commit to an answer, to dance around the question and try and make you forget what you’d originally asked, regardless of whether he cared about you knowing the answer or not. It felt almost like a game.

“What does it feel like when you get summoned?” you asked, curious what happened on his end when he got that distant look in his eyes.

“Why, do you think you're getting summoned?” he asked with a laugh. “Is there another witch out there who wants to lock you in an even smaller room?”

“Stop it. She’s just worried.”

“Uh-huh. How long do you think this is going to last?” he asked, staring out at your locked door with blatant disgust.

You were less evasive with your answers. “I don’t know. If it lasts longer I might actually lose it.”

“So let me take you somewhere. Come on, I’ll have you back before you know it.”

Where the teasing and talking in circles was entertaining, this was your biggest point of contention. Lucien had become fixated on getting you out of here, on showing you the world.

You’d be lying if you said part of your apprehension to leave wasn’t fear. It had been so long, even talking to him had been such a big step. You couldn’t imagine just being somewhere new.

But you also couldn’t do that to Eden, betray her trust like that. No matter how many times he reassured you that she would never know, it left a churning feeling in your stomach. She’d been there for you for so many years, kept you safe. You couldn’t just leave her like that, behind her back.

You avoided the topic as often as you could. Other than those little arguments, seeing him had absolutely become the best part of your day.

You supposed that wasn’t hard to do. You spent most of the time he wasn’t there sleeping, What else was there to do?

You told him as much and he couldn’t quite manage to hide the flash of pity that crossed his face, the one that showed up whenever you mentioned your current living situation.

He did his best to push past it. “Have you been having fun dreams?” he asked with a grin.

You tried to brush off the comment despite his suggestive tone and allusion back to what he’d seen before. “They’re fine. Why don’t you show up in them anymore?”

“Just fine? Maybe dream me needs some pointers.”

You leaned off the bed, reaching for the pillow that lay closest to you on the floor. You managed to get a grip on it right as you started to slide off the bed but Lucien pushed you back up before you could fall to the floor.

He was rewarded for his efforts by a pillow flying towards him that collided with one of his horns as you let out a quiet harrumph.

“You’re so rude to me. And why are you asking? I’m here all the time, do you miss me?” he asked, cooing at you with faux sympathy. “Because if you want me there all you have to do is ask.”

“None of that was an answer to my question,” you informed him, well aware it wouldn’t get you anywhere.

He rolled his eyes. “You’re much more fun when your inhibitions are gone.”

“Mmhmm, I’m sure. And do you take a lot of humans to your little sin room?”

“Only the cute ones.”

You snorted. “Yeah, sure.”

“I could take you back there.”

“You are so shameless. If you want me to get all loose and flirty again just bring some wine by or something.”

“Not like that. I just think it would be good for you to get out, stretch your legs.”

“For the last time, I’m staying right here.”

“Suit yourself,” he said with a huff, as if there was even the smallest chance that he’d finally give up on the idea. “If it were me, I would have killed that bitch by now.”

“Stop it! You will not talk about her like that!” Your defense of Eden was as reflexive as ever. You knew he had every right to be unimaginably angry at her but she was still your best friend, your savior.

His inevitable upcoming protest was cut off by your dinner being slid under the door, Lucien keeping absolutely still as the metal tray scraped against the floor.

He hated being here when she was nearby, even if she wasn’t interacting with you much these days. He claimed it was because he didn’t want to get you in even more trouble and get any more of your freedoms taken away.

You were sure that was part of it. But you saw the way he tensed up when she got close, when any sign appeared of her existence right on the other side of the door.

He was afraid of her. Absolutely terrified.

It made your heart ache, seeing him like that, seeing the fractures in his facade. You couldn’t help but wonder what she’d done to him to make him act like this.

Not that he’d ever tell you. You knew better than to push that point, it was one secret he was more than entitled to.

You did your best not to dwell on it too much. If you did you’d have to reflect on the way he always put himself between you and the door, the way he tensed up whenever she called out to you, knowing you couldn’t even respond unless she allowed it through the soundproofing. She never did.

You couldn’t be sure exactly when, maybe when you summoned him on your own the first time, maybe when you’d told him about all the years you’d spent stuck in this cabin surrounded by the vicious woods, maybe when you’d broken that summoning circle and trusted him, but at some point he’d decided that you were just as much Eden’s victim as he was. Some mysterious point where something switched in his mind and it moved from being you and her against him to Eden against the two of you.

You didn’t blame him for it. Eden had done horrible things to him, that much was clear. He needed her to be a villain and you could give him that.

Lucien always waited a long time before speaking after she showed up so you just lay there, attempting to sneak glances at him and getting caught every time.

Eventually his shoulders untensed and he seemed to decide it was safe to speak again, although a simmering anger still burned in his eyes.

“She isn’t teaching you jackshit.”

“Well…” you attempted to protest before he immediately cut you off.

“Not a question. I could teach you, you know. Your little witch isn’t the only one who knows magic.”

You laughed. “And what’s the price? You want my soul or something?”

“Please, if I wanted your soul I’d probably just need to ask, your dumbass would just hand it over to me.”

He probably wasn’t that far off the mark, if your history was any indication.

You shrugged as you replied. “There’s no real point in teaching me anyways, I’m not very good at it.” You weren’t even sure why he was offering, he’d already seen more than enough of you to know you were a lost cause.

“Being good at things isn't the only reason to do them. Come on, have some fun with it.”

Everything in you screamed that it was a bad idea, that you’d fuck it all up. But the way he was looking at you, daring you to say yes, managed to override those instincts just long enough to squeak out, “Fine. But you’re not allowed to get mad when I mess up.”

You weren’t sure what to expect of Lucien as a teacher. Whatever those confused expectations in the back of your head were, he certainly didn’t match them.

He was a patient teacher, letting you feel things out quietly and slowly. His jokes and evasiveness disappeared completely and every question you had was met with a careful answer.

You discovered very quickly that his sort of magic was very, very different from Edens.

Eden was all about rules, about maintaining the security and purity of her spells first. Everything was a strict ritual to be observed.

Lucien’s magic contained a freedom you thought couldn’t be afforded to humans. Instead of a list of materials and steps, what you were faced with most frequently now was instructions to shut your eyes and imagine, to put all the trust you had into the idea that when your eyes opened, whatever you imagined would have happened.

It was something you struggled with. That faith that it would work.

It wasn’t that you didn’t believe in the magic, you’d seen far too much for that. It was thinking it would work for you that you kept stumbling

Where Eden’s magic was like a recipe, Lucien’s felt more like a trust fall.

And still, you progressed. Without the same confidence Lucien carried himself with, but progress nonetheless.

He brought you little gifts every time you made progress, slivers of the outside world.

You’d been getting frustrated with yourself. The very first thing he’d tried to teach you was just the ability to reach out to someone.

You sat there, day after day, attempting it. The way he’d explained it, everyone had an aura, a little pool of energy that hovered around them. If you focused you could reach out, stretch it thin and find someone else’s.

It had to be close. Not in proximity but in a more abstract sense. He reassured you that the two of you were more than close enough for it to work.

One night, after he had long since left, you were practicing and getting frustrated once more when you felt that aura of yours he’d described time and time again bump into something warm, and a sense of familiarity washed over you.

A moment later you felt something back, a meandering sense of something winding inside of you, pulling at some part of you that made you giggle. Who knew auras could be ticklish?

The next day he came bearing an eclair. It felt like a breath of fresh air. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been able to eat something sweet like that.

You treasured the little paper doily it came on, sometimes just tracing the intricate designs that bordered it.

A few days later was a soft scarf in a bright red that had been given to you when you opened your eyes to find yourself letting off a faint glow in that same red.

The next time you managed to do something, this time it was simply to warm up a surface by a few degrees, he reached out and handed you a gift he had at the ready. It made your heart swell that he already had it, like he had absolute faith you’d be able to do something to deserve it. This time it was a tiny ceramic fox that had its little head lifted defiantly towards the sky

You kept them all buried under your pillow, terrified that any day now would be the day and Eden would come in to free you only to see mysterious trinkets that could only have come from elsewhere.

You kept the fox wrapped up in your scarf, afraid you’d roll over wrong in your sleep and it might break but still unwilling to hide the little treasures too far away from yourself.

More often than not, you woke up clutching them, a habit you couldn’t break no matter how hard you tried.

Sooner than you ever could have imagined, you weren’t even afraid to make mistakes around him anymore. When you’d begun, you’d been convinced any slip-up would ruin everything, that he’d give up on you and leave you behind. Now you floundered and messed up spells and it didn’t matter. He made sure that you were alright, that it was safe to learn and eventually you figured them all out.

“I’m running out of rewards,” he said with a chuckle as you beamed down at your fox, one you’d managed to make wobble without so much as touching it. “That’s how you know you’re getting good. How will I ever motivate you now?”

“Are you kidding,” you basically shouted, pride and excitement welling up inside you. “Did you see what I just did? That was amazing! I don’t need a reward to want to learn how to do incredible things.”

“Maybe. I think you deserve them anyways.”

The comment brought a heat to your cheeks, one that was becoming more and more common in you every time Lucien was here. Another thing you tried not to dwell on too much, lest you get swept up in it.

His head cocked to the side with a familiar look as you gave him an understanding smile. “Off to see another witch?” you asked.

He sneered. “Yes, your favorite witch, in fact. Well, I shouldn’t keep her waiting.”

He leaned down towards you and kissed the top of your head before immediately dissipating, a move that didn’t feel quite fair. At least it didn’t give him the chance to watch you flounder.

As you slept that night you found yourself having a familiar dream. The walls of colorful fabrics were a much more welcome sight than the forest that so often plagued your dreams.

A dream Lucien stood before you, per usual. But something was off this time. It took you a second to place it before you realized that even standing here, passively, you could sense his aura. You knew him too well for the trick he was trying to pull.

But after an onslaught of little tricks and his rude kiss and run earlier, you were feeling a little more mischievous than normal. Perhaps he was rubbing off on you.

Before he could say anything to tease you, you strode up to him, got onto the very tips of your toes, and reached up to pull him into a kiss.

He was too tall for you to be able to pull a maneuver like that without him playing along but he eagerly leaned down to meet you, lips crashing together. His hands fell to your waist, helping you keep your balance as you strained to reach him.

You pulled away after a moment and looked up at him with a smirk, giving his aura a little tug as you said, “You really should announce when it's you.”

He laughed. “You didn't give me the chance.”

His hands tightened around your sides, giving you a gentle squeeze as he kept you close. “We don’t have to stop, you know. I’d be a cruel man to rob you of a wet dream.”

Your boldness grew in your chest. You couldn’t remember if you’d ever been around someone and simply not felt nervous before now but these last few weeks, he’d managed to foster that feeling in you. You were eager to try out this new confidence.

You slipped out of his grasp and fell to your knees in front of him. “You know,” you said, “I haven't been able to thank you for being so kind to me.”

For once he seemed to be at a loss for words. After a moment of floundering, he managed to say, “You don’t need to do that, little one.”

“I want to,” you said, looking up at him with big eyes.

You barely caught the quiet groan that escaped him. “What did I do to deserve you,” he asked, and it too was quiet. You couldn’t help but wonder if it was a question meant for you or if it was for the universe itself.

After his little nod of permission, you were immediately undoing his pants, eager to get your hands on him after so many weeks of pining after him.

Being here, now, it felt silly that you’d denied yourself those feelings for so long. Outside of his little pocket of hell where you’d been able to do as you wished, you’d tried to force down those feelings.

But now, despite the appearance of his familiar room, nothing was here to help you along. The dam just broke, and you couldn’t help but wish you’d given in much sooner.

As you pulled down his pants you found he was already hard, his massive cock bouncing up as you freed it of its confines.

Part of you was glad your first encounter with it was in a dream because it was intimidatingly big. It fit his frame as he towered above you but you were unsure if humans and demons were meant to be together like this. You found you didn’t much care either way. You’d make it work.

You gave an experimental lick to the tip, your tongue moving lightly across it.

His hand came down to grab your jaw as you pulled off of him, squishing your cheeks as he angled your face up toward him.

“You’re too sweet, little one. It’s going to get you in trouble one of these days.”

“Wanna be sweet for you,” you said, leaning into his touch.

He released your jaw and tilted his head to the side, giving you the reigns.

You licked up a long stripe up his cock, from the very base. It felt like the most you could manage, your hands encircling him to make up for what you couldn’t do with your mouth.

His breathing was coming faster, his eyes remaining locked on your form. As your hands pumped up and down his shaft, focusing most of your attention on licking at the head of his cock, you couldn’t help but wonder how much of him coming undone so quickly was because of the actual sensation and how much was from him getting to watch you.

He seemed entirely entranced. You felt several times as his hands moved to touch you before pulling quietly away, like he could get head from you and yet was nervous to touch, as if that would make it too vulnerable.

The more grunts and whines you pulled from him, the more determined you became. You pulled back from your persistent licking, taking him in for a moment.

He might be massive, but you focused on the fact that as real as this felt, it was a dream. Surely in a dream you could do whatever you wanted. You were most certainly going to try.

You managed to fit your lips around the head, your mouth stretched wide. You swirled your tongue around the tip as your hands worked his shaft, determined to draw even more noises from him.

You looked up with wide eyes, waiting to make sure you were doing okay. You could feel them watering as you worked him over but you pushed past it as those watery eyes met his, pitch black and full of nothing but lust and adoration.

A massive hand found its way into your hair, not pushing but caressing as you tried to take as much of him as you could.

The hand tightened in your hair and he grunted out, “I’m going to…”

That was the only warning you got before he started to come.

You tried to swallow it all but couldn’t manage it. It just kept coming, it was too much. You popped off the head with a little cough, the rest getting all over your clothes and making you once again glad that this was a dream.

This would have been a nightmare to explain to Eden. You might’ve just had to burn your clothes and hope for the best.

Lucien lets out a gentle chuckle, thumb wiping some of his cum off of your face. “A little over-ambitious but I appreciate the enthusiasm.”

You snorted out a laugh and as he looked down at you fondly, you thought you could happily stay here forever.

And then something other than the contentedness and fondness crossed his face, wrinkling his brow.

His expression soured and before you could so much as ask a question, he simply said, “Wake up” and the world around you fell away.

You woke up frustrated and confused, not understanding why he sent you away. You wanted more and you wanted to stay and more than anything you wanted an explanation. You summoned him almost reflexively, the process second nature to you now.

Before any of your confusion or frustration could come out, he blurted out, “Let me take you somewhere.”

A wounded little sound escaped you as the moment soured and his obsession with whisking you away appeared once more. “Not a chance.”

“But if you could go somewhere…”

“Can we not do this? Please? I can’t.”

“Can’t?”

“Shouldn’t. Whatever word you want me to use.”

“Why, because she says you shouldn’t? I say you should.”

“I say I shouldn’t. Isn’t that enough for you?”

The fight normally petered out right about there, both of you frustrated and exhausted with the uphill battle of trying to get the other to understand.

Not today. Something had changed between the two of you and the desire to linger in it, to bathe in the affection, dissipated as he grabbed your arm and the room around you gave way to the stone walls of an alley.

The narrow, stone corridor was devoid of people but you could hear the buzz of a crowd not far off, probably not more than a few paces away. It was hard to tell exactly as the noise bounced off the walls, echoing in your ears.

Despite your anger, you found yourself edging closer to Lucien. Anything familiar was welcome in this alien place you’d been thrust into.

Your breathing got shallower and you pleaded with him. “Take me back.”

“I will if you want me to. Just not yet. Please not yet. You need to leave, you need to not be there.”

You looked up at him with teary eyes, the trust you’d been basking in being shattered in a moment. “Why are you doing this? I know it’s not for me because I don’t want it.”

“She’s made you afraid. You’ve been tricked and trapped and you need to leave. I need you to leave. You just need a push, that’s it. Just need to be away from her.”

“Listen, just because you don’t like her…”

“No, this is not spite talking, you need to listen to me, you need to figure it out.”

You reeled back. “What?” Surely if he knew something that could change this endless fight, he would have told you. What could there possibly be that you needed to figure out all on your own?

“You just, you need to ask…” his words were cut off with a yell as he doubled over on himself, runes burning into his skin as he spoke. They shone bright red and it almost looked like he was being branded.

The anger faded immediately into concern as you rushed to his side.

“What’s happening, I don’t understand?”

“You can’t say anything,” he insisted, a frantic look in his eyes.

“But you said…”

“I know what I said, you can’t ask anything.”

More than anything, that scared you. The constant pleading for you to break free and push back against Eden and now he was doing everything but that, retracing his steps after unmistakable witch marks were burned into him.

She’d done this. That much was clear.

You couldn’t keep doing this. You needed to know, needed to understand.

“Take me back.”

“I…”

You put everything you had into your voice as you said, “Lucien, take me back.”

The use of his name in his already weakened state with the ruins still charred into his skin was enough, he didn’t have it in him to fight back and you were whisked into the depths of the woods. You returned home.

#terato #demon x reader #demon x human #monster bf #monster boyfriend #monster x human #monster x reader #demon #the witch's apprentice #I love knowing what's going on in Lucien's head when yall don't lol #this is my last chapter of that #answers soon #its going to make his past behavior make a lot more sense ill tell you that much lol

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