#his hand is covering the last remaining belt like hes fighting demons not to unbuckle it rn

[jrueships]

allen's .5 inch bigger hands

[captainremmington-13]

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖋 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖊

show!Luke Castellan x daughter of thanatos!reader

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own the image above or any of Rick Riordan’s characters/world-building.

⚠️Warnings⚠️: swearing, injuries, jealousy, mentions of nausea and blood

A/N: i hope you guys enjoy this chapter, i had a bit of trouble writing it but i hope it turned out ok!

“Angel, wake up. We’re here.”

You groaned, instinctively covering your face with the jacket Luke had draped over you to keep you warm. “Five more minutes…”

You heard him chuckle under his breath. He lifted the coat off of your resting figure, making you whine. You were fully aware that you had to get up and face the deadly challenge ahead.  A couple more moments of rest would’ve made you feel at least a little better.

Luke reached over and unbuckled your seatbelt. He got out of the Mercedes-Benz and walked around to open your door. “You were asleep for almost three hours, baby. I think it’s time to wake up so we can get this over with, don’t you?”

You clumsily clambered out of the car, gripping onto Luke’s shoulders so you didn’t face-plant into the ground. Looking around, you realized that you were parked in the middle of a field. The sun was setting in the distance, casting an warm orange glow on everything its light touched. 

You would’ve stopped to admire the scenery if you weren’t so worried about getting mutilated by a dragon. 

Luke grabbed both of your backpacks and closed the car door. Slinging one over each shoulder, he unsheathed the sword attached to his belt. “Ready?”

You nodded, adjusting your posture to appear more confident than you really were. You headed towards the dirt path in the grass, which undoubtedly lead to the Garden.

“How far do you think we need to walk?” 

“Not too far, the tree should only be about a half-mile from here.”

“Flying would make the journey a lot faster,” you pointed out. You still weren’t a fan of using your wings, but you didn’t mind it if they would make tasks easier or safer.

“No.” Luke immediately shut the idea down. “You need to conserve your energy.”

You gave him an over-exaggerated pout. “You’re so bossy.”

“And you’re a brat,” he said, but you knew he was just teasing. He called you that all the time, knowing he was the only one who could get away with it and remain unharmed.

Besides, it wasn’t exactly untrue. You enjoyed giving your boyfriend a bit of attitude at times, just to get him riled up. After all, he looked even more attractive that way.

You would’ve continued playfully pushing his buttons if not for the sense of dread that was creeping up on you. Each step you took towards The Garden of Hesperides strengthened the feeling. The paranoia started overwhelming your mind, making your hands shake slightly. 

What if this was the last time you and Luke went a peaceful walk together? What if one of you didn’t make it out alive?

You swallowed, pushing the nagging questions aside. You would do everything in your power to keep you both alive.

And if your father decided to take his soul away from you, you would fight like the most vicious of demons to get him back. 

________________________________________________

Words couldn’t describe the beauty of The Garden of Hesperides. 

The colors were almost too overwhelming for your eyes to process. You’d never seen such radiant flowers, or such vibrant grass. It felt like you had stepped into a painting, rather than a real place.

The most stunning feature of the Garden, of course, was the apple tree. It was ginormous, at least five times as large as a normal one. You were no botanical expert, but it looked extremely healthy, especially for being as ancient as it was. 

The Hesperides, who laid peacefully in the soft grass, were almost as gorgeous as the magical plant. They looked nearly identical, but each of them were easily more beautiful than almost all of the people you knew. They wore traditional white chitons, enhancing their dark eyes and shiny black hair. 

If a mortal had somehow stumbled across this place, they would assume it was a safe haven. That is, of course, until they spotted the hundred-headed dragon wrapped around the trunk of the tree

You and Luke were ducked behind a hill about a hundred yards away from the Hesperides and Ladon the dragon. Even from afar, their presences made you feel uneasy. Ladon was much larger than you’d expected him to be, and you had a feeling the Hesperides could be vicious if they wanted to be. 

“So, what’s our plan of action?” Luke whispered, keeping one hand on his sword’s hilt. 

You sucked in a breath. You’d been brainstorming strategies during the walk to the Garden, and had finally come up with one that seemed feasible. You didn’t like it, but it made the most sense. 

“The Hesperides are known to like men more than women. They never get to leave the Garden, you see, so when they have male company they get…more excited. They’re more likely to let their guard down if you approach them and spark a conversation. They may be wary of you at first, but if you pretend to be a traveling demigod who simply wanted to admire the tree’s beauty, they should fall for it.”

“Okay,” Luke said slowly. “Then what will you do?” 

“I’ll turn invisible and slowly approach the tree. When the time is right, I’ll fly upwards to grab an apple, which will undoubtedly alert Ladon. Then, I’ll fly over to you and we’ll make a run for it.” 

You could immediately tell that Luke didn’t like this. Before he could protest, you said, “If I approach the Hesperides, they’ll immediately be suspicious and send Ladon to attack me. The only way to try and avoid a fight is by having me pick the apple.”

Luke opened his mouth to protest, but nothing came out. After a second, he sighed. 

“I don’t like it, but it does seem like our best bet. Just…please, please put yourself before the quest. Don’t sacrifice your life for a stupid magical fruit. It’s not worth it.” 

You nodded. “I understand. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

Luke gave you a nervous smile. “Okay. I’ll be as careful as I can, but if I need to, I’ll fight my way out.”

You tried not to wince. You hated the idea of Luke facing Ladon alone. But you knew he’d fight any monster, matter how large, to protect you and himself.

Gently, you pulled Luke in for a passionate kiss. You tried to ignore the fear that this was the last one you’d ever share. 

When you pulled away, you gave his a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll see you soon.” 

With that, you closed your eyes, and willed yourself to become invisible. You broke into a sprint, heading towards the backside of the enchanted tree. 

You were tempted to pray to the gods for protection, but realized it was pointless. After all, the tree belonged to the king and queen of Olympus.

And they never really listened to demigods anyway.

.

.

.

You would’ve been much more upset about Luke being surrounded by beautiful, immortal women if not for the beast slumbering a handful of feet away from you.

Luke had always been a smooth talker, even when he was still in his “awkward teen” phase. It was one of the many skills he’d inherited from Hermes. He could talk his way out of trouble, even in the tightest of situations. 

With that ability and his good looks, he could easily get whatever he wanted from most people. 

He was sitting on a carved stone bench, telling a winding story to the Hesperides, who seemed very interested. Clearly, it had been awhile since they’d had male company.

You crept closer to the trunk of the tree, being careful to stay as quiet as possible. Ladon undoubtedly had an enhanced sense of hearing, as he literally had one hundred heads. 

You gripped the hilt of your weapon, prepared to fight at any moment. If the dragon attacked Luke, you wouldn’t hesitate to step in. 

You stood still for a few moments, observing Ladon’s body language. He seemed to be deep in slumber, his many eyes closed tightly and his breathing slow and steady.

Concentrating intensely to ensure you stayed invisible, you willed your wings to appear. The familiar cold feeling of them sprouting from your shoulder blades made you shudder ever-so slightly, but the effect quickly faded. 

Jumping into the air, you hovered for a minute, trying to decide which apple would be easiest to pick. The further into the branches you went, the more noise you’d make, undoubtedly alerting the dragon that there was an intruder.

You decided on one that was dangling at the very end of a branch, a good distance away from any of Ladon’s heads. You took a deep breath, and rose higher. 

Then, like a hawk targeting a field mouse, you swooped down, snatching the golden fruit from the tree.

Unfortunately, the snap that elicited from you picking the apple was enough to wake the beast below you.

“Fuck,” you murmured under your breath. Ladon began stirring, and then his many eyes shot open. 

You had been caught. 

There was no point in staying hidden, the dragon could use its sense of smell to detect your exact location. As soon as your invisibility faded away, you screamed, “Luke!”

You saw his focus immediately switch from the Hesperides to you. His eyes widened, and he unsheathed his sword, charging towards where the dragon was getting ready to attack you. 

You landed on the ground next to him and readied your sword. Ladon’s many heads were glaring down at you both, teeth gnashing together violently. 

He lifted a gigantic claw and swung at you. You threw Luke out of the way just in time, but ended up feeling the full force of the blow. The apple flew out of your hand, landing somewhere in the meadow. You were thrown at least ten feet, hitting the ground with a painful thud. 

You howled in agony, feeling your ribs crack painfully. Somehow, you got up, staggering to your feet. You glanced around wildly, searching for Luke. Your vision swam, but you were able to make out his figure in the distance. He was slashing at the beast, swiftly avoiding its foot-long talons. Somehow, he was able to detach one of Ladon’s claws, making the monster cry out in agony.

You stumbled towards him, using your long weapon as a cane. You no longer cared about the stupid apple. You just needed to get him out of here.

Your heart dropped into your stomach as you saw one of Ladon’s claws make contact with Luke’s face. 

He screamed, reaching up to cover the gash, which was starting to drip with blood. 

Ignoring the searing pain in your torso, you ran towards him, stepping between him and Ladon. The dragon snarled at you, its hot breath fanning your face and making you even more terrified. Still, you leveled your weapon, prepared to keep it away from Luke, no matter what it cost.

You rose up into the air, until you were at face-level with Ladon. Before the dragon could lunge, you used your sword to slash through the eyes of one of his larger heads. The shriek he let out was deafening, and almost made you drop your weapon.

Quickly heading back towards the ground, you grabbed Luke and tried to get him to his feet. But he was clearly in an overwhelming amount of pain, and was in no shape to move, let alone run.

As you saw Ladon heading towards you both with a murderous glint in his eyes, you knew there was only one way to make it out alive.

Wrapping your arms around Luke, you closed your eyes and thought of Camp Half-Blood. You pictured yourself appearing at the border, right next to Thalia’s tree.

A sudden gust of icy wind swirled around you both, making you gasp. You held on tighter to the injured boy, afraid that if you loosened your grip, he would be lost forever. You felt dizzy and nauseous, and you were sure that if it lasted any longer, you were going to die.

Then, the feeling stopped. 

You opened your eyes tentatively, and that saw the trunk of a large pine tree was mere feet away. 

You had successfully teleported all the way from California to Long Island Sound. 

You’d made it home.

Dragging Luke towards the border, it took all of your energy not to pass out. Luke was barely conscious, still gripping Ladon’s severed claw in his hands and carrying both of your backpacks on his shoulders. 

As soon as you had made it past the magical barrier, you screamed, “Help! Someone, please!”

Because it was already nighttime, you couldn’t make out exactly who was rushing towards you and Luke. You were barely able to hear what they were saying, but you could tell they were panicked and confused. 

Finally, your legs gave out, and you hit the ground. Luke groaned as he practically fell on top of you, clutching at the deep wound on his face. 

The last thing you heard before losing consciousness was Luke whispering your name. 

taglist: @orionspaperwork, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @marvelescvpe, @lovingjasontoddmakemewanttocry, @louweasleymalfoy, @stars4birdie, @stargurl-battleship, @daughterofthemoons-stuff, @have-a-nice-day-k

Thank you for reading! Pls let me know what you think in the comments!!!

The tone of the story is going to shift beginning in the next chapter, it’s going to get more mature in a multitude of ways…

Let me know in the comments if you want to be added to the taglist!

[whaleofatjme1920]

EJ SIMPS RISE 😤😤💪💪💪

may i please request a scenario for yandere ej x fem reader where ej is punishing the reader for escaping ? feel free to go DARK dark with this one <3

Cream Colored Ceiling

[Eyeless Jack X F!Reader]

[Warnings: NSFW - but not for sexual content, just violence, what isn't a warning in this one, mentions of cannibalism (but there is no described cannibalism, just allusions to it), EJ physically harms the reader, amputation, violence of all kinds, throw up, look this is just,,,, it's dark. I repeat, there is no sexual content in here, it's just physically violent]

[AN: yeah. This was uh, yeah.]

Hazy, your mind is hazy. You wake and open your eyes to see that same fucking cream colored ceiling with water damage leaking through the top and dangerously close to your bed, if you’d even want to call it your bed.

You raise one of your hands that feels heavier than stones and wipe quietly at your eyes, dusting them from the sleep. Your body feels heavy, oh so heavy.

You sit up. Nothing strange so far.

Has he really been that gracious with you?

You yawn and stretch, joints and bones popping as you look out the window. There’s that cursed forest. It looks dark, shadowy, misty. The fog is rolling in and you know with it comes the rain. You’re going to be stuck here forever, aren’t you?

The sunlight doesn’t filter through the window, but there’s light regardless. You’re deep into mid Autumn and with it will come winter. It’ll be the third winter you’ve been trapped with this monster.

Your mouth feels dry, much too dry. You smack your lips together a few times, wondering where your saiva has gone and decide to go to the kitchen. It seems like Jack isn’t home right now, which is probably for the best. Alongside him being out, so too is your natural fear of him. You swing your legs over the side of your bed, wondering why you feel so physically exhausted before attempting to stand up.

“Shit!” You cry out as your knees buckle beneath you, your body cascading like a pile of bricks to the floor. Your knees and palms blank onto the hardwood, digging into you most uncomfortably. Tears well in your eyes as you struggle to get off the floor. You continue to curse under your breath as you glance back at your ankles where large surgical wounds lay, covered in stitches and gauze. What the fuck? When did that happen?

Your heart begins to race when you slow, calculated steps padding on the floor. You’re all too familiar with the sound of those combat boots knocking on the floor, pacing back and forth and keeping you awake at all hours of the night. Panic sears itself into your heart as you attempt to get up, pathetically crawling along the floor and reaching for your bedpost.

Jack stands in your doorway, his large form casting a shadow on your throw rug. He tsks, and you can already tell he’s more than disappointed with you. “What did I tell you about getting up?” He asks, voice smooth and clinical, once again padding towards you.

You feel tears well in your eyes as you curl as tightly into a ball as you can.

Jack breathes out with slight disappointment before crouching down and seeing your sorry form. “You knew this was going to happen,” he says, half lidded eyes watching you curiously before he reaches his large, gloved hand out. “Did you pop any of your sutures?” He tilts his head to the side and looks over your swollen, still bloodied ankles. “I think you might’ve.” He reaches to pick you up and you begin to panic, blubbering your apologies.

“I’m sorry, please, don’t touch me, don’t hurt me-” you begin to babble, your remaining strength trying their hardest to push the behemoth away. Tears well in your eyes as Jack grips your calves, sending pain holting like lightning strikes up and down your lower body, making you cry out in pain.

“You deserve it,” he murmurs, his claws pinching into your skin before he lifts you. A glance of annoyance passes over his face before he yanks your grip from the bed.

You struggle against him as you pound your fists into his broad chest, tears of frustration falling down your cheeks.

The tall demon moves without budging. He doesn’t care, you barely feel like a scratch to him.

You watch your surroundings, still fighting against him and feel your heart sink when you realize he’s taking you down the hall that he’s deemed forbidden. The energy you feel from this specific hallway makes you cry out in fear.

Jack eats it up, his own heart beating just a little faster. You won’t ever do what you pulled last night again. He juggles you into one his arms and uses his free hand to unlock the door, the slight beeps of numbers being added into a keypad making your attention shift ever so slightly.

The inside of this room is like a horror scene to you. You see an operating table, and stainless steel tables, cabinets and countertops. There’s a large trash bin filled with bloody gauze and other things, such as discarded clothes, clumps of hair, things you don’t want to think of. Is this it? Is he finally going to kill you?

Fear overtakes your system again and renders you to nothing but silent sobs as Jack pulls off a turquoise colored sheet from the operating table, placing you down.

You try to get off, wiggling and clawing at him. “Let me go!” You cry out like a broken record of a mantra, your eyes wild and feral.

Jack simply shrugs you off, tying large leather brown straps over your waist and your chest, rendering you immobile. “The more you struggle, the more it’s going to hurt you,” he hums, his clawed hands moving across your chest to your wrists. He quickly ties you down there as well, your legs numbly kicking at him through the pain due to severed Achilles tendons. He flicks the wound on your left leg, grinning at your pain. “Won’t be needing these anymore,” he chuckles.

“What?” You say in shock, pupils restricting to the size of pim points.

He takes a seat on his wheeled stool and begins setting you up with an IV drip. “Gonna sedate you, and when you wake up?” He warmly smiles, pricking the vein on your right arm with the needle, making you weakly thrash once more. “Get some sleep,” he murmurs, pumping some sedatives into your bloodstream.

You feel more tears welling in your eyes as your conscience begins to wean. The world becomes more shapes and colors, merging into brightness and shadows before you finally slip into your dreams.

You haven’t been able to trick Jack like this in the history of well, ever. Almost three years with this nightmare and you’ve finally gained enough of his trust to ask him for some time out.

“Don’t stay in there for too long,” he says, large hand gripping your thigh as you swallow down the feeling of hitting him from where you remain seated in the passenger seat. “I want you back safely,” he murmurs, his other hand gently letting go of the wheel to cup your face.

You do your best to show love and admiration in your eyes as you meet his gaze. “Don’t worry. It’s just an hour or so, okay?” You hum, your hand gently holding his and burying your face deeper into his warmth.

“I don’t know why you need anyone else’s company,” he says, a slight acrid venom seeping into his tone. “You don’t need anyone else but me.” It’s almost cute how offended he sounds.

You play the part of loving him. “I know, I know,” you coo, taking his hand from your face and pressing your lips into a pucker. You raise his hand to them, planting a kiss on his palm. “I love you. I won’t be that long.”

Jack’s heart flutters. “I’ll be here, waiting for you.” He says, watching you as you unbuckle yourself, his hand reluctantly leaving your thigh.

You flash him a warm smile and lean over to press a kiss to his cheek, and then his lips. You try not to spit at the scent of blood and taste of rot before pulling away. You then open up his car, sliding from the passenger seat and to the rinky dink little bar you’d managed to convince him to let you go to. Just an hour - that’s all it was. Just an hour. You’d be in and out, get some drinks, and come straight back to his car.

Due to Jack’s appearance, he had told you he couldn’t go in. They’d know something was wrong with him immediately, and you’d gained enough of his trust for you to be away for just an hour. Come straight back to the car when it reaches 10 PM. You promised him. And he fucking believed you.

It wasn’t that hard finding some idiot down on his luck with the ladies. You cozied up next to him, getting to sit with him at the bar and start talking. He was so attentive and sweet, so receptive to the story you had made up to him.

“That sounds awful,” he says, voice low and sweet. His deep blue eyes look at you with nothing but gentleness and fondness. His hand reaches for yours across the bar and you smile, allowing him to take it.

“I just wanna get away from that brute,” you admit. “I just wanna go home.”

He squeezes you just a little tighter. “Why don’t we go back to my car and call the cops?” He offers.

“Where did you park?” You ask, hoping it’s not in the front lot where Jack remains waiting for you.

“In the back.”

What a relief.

A slight smile blooms on your face as you nod. “Yeah, let’s go,” you finally answer. You hop off the barstool and then grip his hand, letting him lead you through the bar and the sea of people. It smells like sweat, alcohol, and regret - you love it. It smells like the beginning of freedom, something better. Maybe, just maybe…

He opens the backdoor to you, allowing you out first. The crisp night air of autumn greets you with her beauty. You can smell maple leaves and pumpkins out in the distance, the atmosphere is incredible. “That one’s mine,” he says, pointing to his car a little ways down in the parking lot under one of the yellow lights. He continues holding your hand as the two of you walk through the parking lot.

You watch as he unlocks the car door, walking around the side to let you in. You accompany him and slide into the passenger seat. Putting this seat belt on feels almost liberating. You giggle when the short man closes the door before walking around the front of his car.

And then he pauses.

Fear seeps into his eyes and leans forward, his abdomen cutting into the hood of the hunk of metal that can barely be called a car before sweat beads and rolls down his forehead. He begins to cough, violently.

Your eyes widen in shock as he begins to cough up blood, and tears well in his eyes. They roll down his cheeks, fat and crystalline like the beads of sweat. He reaches out to you, mouthing for you to run before finally slumping forwards.

You see him, the behemoth that’s held you captive for three years, a sapphire colored mask boring into your soul and searing into your mind with what you can understand is pure, unadulterated rage. You scramble, panicking as you notice the large blade that’s wedged itself into the man’s back as he seizes on the car, his thick body rolling off from the hood and landing with a large ‘thump!’ as he does so. Foam and the smell of something unpleasant wafts upwards and you palm the handle of the car, attempting to release yourself.

Jack takes slow, calculated steps forwards, his shadow growing larger as he gears up to catch you and claim you as his.

Your heart pounds like a drum in your chest, the panic overtaking your system as you finally get the car open. You shoot out of the metal cage like a bat from hell and stumble onto the asphalt, hissing as the black tar digs into your knees and palms. No time for registering your pain, you need to run! Like a freshly born faun, you hobble up and begin to run, wondering if you can make it back to the bar and the safety of other people when Jack’s steps grow quicker.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! He’s going to catch you and he’s going to kill you!

“You’re such a stupid little rabbit,” he hums, watching as you sorely sprint towards the door. “Look what you’ve done,” he taunts, hand gesturing to the man. “You made me kill him and I’m not even hungry,” he hums. “Maybe I should make you eat it instead,” he muses.

The thought alone makes your stomach retch. You stumble once more, body feeling violently ill as you cave. The alcohol paired with his words has you emptying your stomach of its contents that splash to the asphalt, the sickly acrid and saccharine taste overtaking your mouth.

Jack’s giant form finally overtakes you. He stands with his hands behind his back, peering down at you with disdain. “Fucking disgusting,” he coos in a tone that reminds you of a condescending father. He grips the back of your neck and forces you down.

You screech and fight him, not wanting to touch what came out of you.

“No? No,” he grins. “Fine. Let’s go see your date.” His claws dig into your neck as he drags you back to the man’s car where he’s finally gone still. He’s left a puddle of blood. Jack laughs quietly at your struggling before forcing you to your knees. “Are you hungry?”

“No-”

“I think you mean yes.”

The taste of blood still lingers in your mouth, and it remains even in your slumber.

Of course, you passed out due to your traumatic experience, and threw up again as well. Jack took advantage of your fragile state and brought you back to your home, the place you belonged - with him. He cut your Achilles tendons, just a warm up, really.

“Time to wake up.” Jack’s voice permeates your head, rousing you from your slumber. His gloved hands are snapping in front of you.

It’s bright, much too bright. Your body feels simultaneously heavier and lighter. Where are you? You see that you’re now looking into an operating light, and it’s super uncomfortable. “What did you do to me?” You ask drowsily.

Jack ignores your question and instead picks you up. His footsteps begin to lull you into sleep.

Exhausted, you fall back in again, and this time? This time, it’s dreamless.

It’s that fucking cream colored ceiling again that you open your eyes to. The water damage is still the same, and you realize you’re still stuck. You’re about to get up when you hear your door opening.

“Nice to see you up,” Jack says, watching as you slowly come to. “Did you dream about anything?”

You narrow your eyes recoiling as he reaches his hand out to pet you.

Jack glares at you for a moment, his hand straightening before he slaps you. “Don’t get testy, I’ll take your arms next,” he murmurs.

You’re about to bite back when you take in his words. What? Your heart begins to sink, deeper and deeper as your hand shakily reaches to the edge of your bed sheets. No. No. NO. You hold your breath as you rip the sheets off. Your flesh is swollen, puffy and looks like it’s crying out in its own form of pain. Large, manila colored casts and bandages surround your thighs and what remains of your knees.

You begin to hyperventilate. Your chest begins to rise and fall faster and faster - your body feels like a prison.

Jack only coos. “Stop that,” he says lovingly, hand petting your head as you fall deeper and deeper into despair. He removes the black glove from his hand and grabs your face, his dark, eyeless sockets boring into your own eyes. He looks at you with such adoration that acts as a front for the betrayal and anger he feels for you deep down inside. He draws closer to your tear stained face, a small smile bearing shark-like teeth at you before parting his lips to speak to you. “You’re being hysterical.”

[littlefreya]

Nice day for a White Wedding

Summary:  Even on your wedding day, there is no getting away from August. His grip over you has no boundaries.

Pairing: August Walker x Reader (you)

Word count: 3.3K

Warning: Explicit smutty smut, MaleDom/FemSub, stripping, spanking (rather hardcore this time), slight fingering, bondage, rough sex. Wheeeeee

A/N: So my amazing @agniavateira​ who is also my editor(!) challenged me to a request a while ago and it turned out Ummm more explicit than I thought. So I hope you guys don’t unfollow me after this but not blaming you if you will. Also the name, yes, I am a Billy Idol fan. 

Title: Nice Day for a white wedding

White suits you well, a delicate contrast against the shade of your skin. That dress was, without doubt, a marvellous choice. Your mother complained about it being too simple, wanting you to pick something more extravagant. But you knew from the moment you saw it that this dress you wanted to get married in.

The sheer fabric with the little floral details, the way the tulle flows from your hips and falls down your feet makes you feel like a fairytale princess. You can’t help but pose at the mirror in your living room; chin atop the arch of your shoulder, tilting your head and letting your hair sway down your forearm.

All that’s missing is a little golden tiara and a bouquet of pale pink roses and you’ll be ready for the big day.

You nudge your thumb against the diamond ring, and then collect the tulle of the dress in both arms, lifting it and letting it fall calmly onto the floor.  

“Looks good on you, princess.”

Your blood turns to ice in your veins. You don’t even need to turn, that deep thunderous voice is already distinguished. 

Your little fairytale has taken a dark twist. You glance at the reflection, watching how he appears from the umbra of light.

A monstrosity so beautiful it makes your heart feel sunken.  

You keep quiet, letting his footsteps dominate the atmosphere in the room, making it thick and heavy with fear. He moves from the darkness, letting the light shower his face. He looks the same as the day you left him. His face still appears as if it was cut from marble by some artist; that moustache still adorns his face, giving him that dangerous-looking edge. 

Without even noticing you hold your hands together, trying to cover that striking diamond ring. But August notices, his eyes trailing over your reflection, drinking in every detail.

“When is the wedding?”

You swallow hard and narrow your eyes, not wanting to dignify him with an answer. He has no right to be here, to taint the new life you created for yourself. 

Because that’s what hurricane Walker does, he leaves you bleeding, a wreck of a woman. 

August lowers his head, looking at his shoes. Knowing him well, it only means that he is harbouring his anger right now. Hell, he has been harbouring it for the last three years.

“This weekend.” 

Talking to him feels as if you broke some spell or summoned a demon by mistake, making him real and not just a figment of your imagination. 

He answers with a bitter smile, his eyes touched by a storm. 

“You really thought you can just leave and then marry someone else? You really thought I’d never find you?” 

“I never thought you’d care enough to bother.” you dare, assuming you’re right. But you remember what happens when you err with August. The payment is painful.

The storm inside him begins to rage. His eyes blaze, even from where you’re standing you can see the small wrinkles that form at each corner.  

“Turn around.” 

Slowly and carefully, as if to not awaken any sleeping dragons, you turn. Refusing to meet his glare, you stare at the floor, hands laying loose at the tulle of your dress.

“Take off that fucking dress.” 

He commands in a voice so calm and rich it wouldn’t have sounded like order if it was heard by another person. 

Stunned by his demand, you finally gain the courage to look into his eyes. The sight of those blue crystals is the cage that draws you in. 

A prison of delights, made of diamonds. Beautiful, but still sharp.

He smirks, knowing he just won. One look and you are his, you’d fight it every time but the conclusion would always be the same: you’d be sore and sorry. Numerous times you told him it was over, yet you always took him back.  

“Did I stutter? Do as you’re told!”

Much to his delight, your chest heaves, making your breasts rise and fall in the v-shaped cleavage of your dress.. You reach a hand behind your back, pulling the zipper down which immediately makes the dress loosen from your body.  

Staring down at nothing but your shattered dignity, you reach for the strap hooked around your shoulder and begin slipping it down. 

“Slowly, and keep your eyes on me.” August demands, forcing you to pause with the strap in the middle of your forearm. Your eyes dart up to meet his stare, trying to read whatever is in that dark mind. 

Perhaps, it’s best you’d never find out.

The strap slides down your forearm before you tend to the other, letting your fingers strip it down while trying to think of some sensual song in your head. That’s what August wants: debauchery and eroticism.   

Your eyes remain on the beautiful blues obediently, trying to show no fear, but the quiver in your lower lip gives it away. August remains composed, caging you in his gaze, there is a faint grin in it.  

The fancy dress finally slips from your body, the fabric swirling around you for a swift moment like tender petals falling from a rose. It piles at your ankles and you hurry to cover your breasts as if he hasn’t seen them a thousand times before. 

He gives a huff, taking one step closer while shaking his head. 

“Aww, is my little princess getting shy? Lay down your arms.”

You obey, exposing your breasts to him. 

The outlines of his cock begin to show as he hardens against his trousers. The thought of it makes you damp in your underwear. It’s been three years, you can’t help but wonder how many broken mouths he had around him since you left. 

You’ve only been with one man and he is hardly the man August is. Yes, he satisfies you, but August destroyed you. 

His hand reaches to adjust his erection before inching toward you. The soft thud of his footsteps makes your heartbeat pace abnormally. The closer he gets, the bigger he looks. You wonder for a slight moment if he was this muscular back then when you still dated.

Finally, he towers over you, his face tilted down as he looks at you, offering a slanted smirk full of dark desires. You remain stoic, unsure how you’re supposed to react but then he leans in, pressing his lips ever so gently on your forehead. 

Everything you felt three years ago hits you like an axe at the back of your head. You breathe, nearly shocked by the circus of emotions that flood your chest. All that love and lust, all that fury and sorrow. 

Falling for August is worse than any sad love song ever written. The problem is, you’re sinking into an abyss.    

His lips hover over your mouth, his nose gently bumping against yours. Still, he remains there. Only his hands move as they work the seam of your plain cotton panties, rolling them down your thighs. 

He takes your hand, raising it and slightly pulling away so it will be at the level of his face. He looks at your ring finger with harsh disapproval. Opening his mouth, he takes your finger in, making you flinch as the hot wetness of his saliva surrounds your delicate finger. He suckles on it for a mere second. Your finger comes out bare and he spits the ring on the floor with utmost contempt.

With your wrist locked in his large hand, you never dream of protesting. On the contrary, you want to beg him for more, forgetting that you once had dignity. You can’t help but pout at his mouth, your eyes seeking that little freckle on his lower lip. 

“Did you dream of the moment I’d find you?” August asks, letting his finger trace the shape of your mouth.

“Sometimes, it was a nightmare.” you declare, parting your lips against his touch.

August hisses through his nose, his touch turning from gentle to crude in an instant. He grips your nape and conquers your mouth, exploiting your flimsy gasp to slip his tongue in. He kisses you for your betrayal, for all the years he had to suffer others, for the days he needed you and you weren’t there. His lips suck onto yours, changing angles to onslaught you from every direction. His tongue is fickle as it overpowers yours, and you hear that deep hum of his voice that makes you flutter against him.

Your lips are swollen and red when he ends the kiss. If not for the hand that holds your nape and hair, you’d be down on the ground by now.

“Get on your knees.” 

Still breathless you stare at him stunned as if his words are suddenly too complicated. Sighing with a wisp of frustration he shoves you down, forcing you to kneel in front of him. 

You are now facing his very hardened bulge, your eyes stare at his groin and then travel up to look at him submissively. August is in his favourite position, on top, staring down with his chest puffed with arrogance. His hands reach to unbuckle his belt and you can’t help but press your hands to massage that aching desire of his, longing to have him in your mouth.

But he has other plans, forcing your chin away with a pinch of his fingers. “No, I want you on four and I want to see you crawl.”

His hand leaves your chin, his head gestures at the direction of the bedroom. Where you and your-soon-to-be husband spend the night.

“Do as you’re told.” he commands, hardly even needing to raise his voice. “And do it slowly, I want to look at your cunt, I want to see how much you drip for me, understood?”

“Yes, August.” You turn on your knees and begin crawling on four, trying to be as sensual as possible. You arch your back and sway up your ass for the man you’ve abandoned for so many good reasons, yet right now you can’t even think of one.

You can hear the rustle of clothes behind you, the thud of his shoes being thrown somewhere and eventually the sound of the leather of his belt as it slips from around his waist. There is a small smacking sound and you realize he’s still holding the belt and slapping it against his palm. 

Your knees nearly give in at the thought of what awaits you in this bedroom. But you still crawl on, swallowing your pride. 

August kicks the door closed when the two of you are finally inside. It’s just the two of you in the house, you find it odd but then you realize it means to heighten your fear, to make you feel hopeless and owned. 

He reaches for your elbow, pulling you to stand up, letting you glimpse his god-like form only for a moment before throwing you facedown on the bed. You are pleased to see you were right, he has grown bigger in the last three years, gaining more muscle.  

You feel the bed shift as he places one knee on the mattress, and with one strong hand, he collects you to stand on four again while he kneels right behind you. You know what’s coming next but you are still surprised, hissing in as his large hand slaps your ass and then squeezes your flesh possessively.

“Did you miss this, princess?” his hand squeezes even harder, his middle finger slightly teasing your slit. 

You bite your lips, leading forward and squirming with anticipation for the next one. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” he asks and grants you another slap, this time making sure not to miss your swollen lips. You gasp, fingers wrapping around the floral linen of the bed. 

“Yes sir.”   

You turn your head, seeing him stare at your mound with sick hunger while the bulge in his trousers appears agonisingly enormous. This is what always scared you about August, how much he was willing to endure to torture others.

“Look away,” he warns you as he notices your stare. You realize the belt is still in his hand and you shiver, uncertain if you want to find out what August planned as your sweet punishment for running away. 

“You thought you can just come into my life and leave?” he asks you, one hand sliding up the curve of your ass. You mean to answer but then you feel movement behind you, and then make the mistake of turning your head to gander at him.   

The first smack takes away your breath. The leather stings against your skin, so harsh that for a moment there you are sure the flesh came off from your behind. You try to be brave, fighting away that cry that begs to escape from your throat. 

You deserve this, after all.

You hear him breathing heavily behind you, prolonging the time of the next smack. You won’t foresee it or get used to the pain too quickly, so the excitement will get you wetter. You try to adjust your breath, your back arching upward and downward when you receive the second smack. 

“Uh!” the whimper you fought to keep leaves your lips, your hand pulls on the bedsheet. The worst part is that you’re throbbing, and not just from the pain. Your petals are swollen red, needy for more and August sees it all, enjoying every second of how pathetic you are.

August unleashes another punishment on your ass and this time you cry is a mixture of pain and pleasure. Your entire body squirms back and forth as if daring him to give you more.

The time in which you receive the fourth, fifth, and sixth smacks are nearly immediate. As you hiss and mewl you can hear August chuckling behind you, his free hand massaging your red aching ass, his fingers sliding up and down between your folds almost clinically to feel the soaking thick wetness that awaits him there. 

“You’re so wet, does this boy of yours make you wet as I do?” 

“No, sir!” your voice cracks into a cry, certain you will receive another smack but instead his hand strokes your body with tenderness that is a complete contrast to what you’ve just gotten used to. August always loved to play hard, he wanted you to feel him, not just his body but the raging storm of emotions inside him. 

But when he is gentle, and he would be occasionally after breaking you apart, it would be the certain touch that’ll make you die out of love. 

His strong digits brush down your sensitive muscles, soothing you, tracing and admiring every curve he missed and yearned for. 

You moan, enjoying his caress, eyes closing dream-like while the mattress shifts again. You sense August as he moves closer, his arm reaching to grab at your torso, pulling you to stand on your weak knees. He keeps you pressed against his chest whispering in your ear how much he missed you while brushing your hair aside. His kisses are amorous, prolonged and wet on your neck, trailing up and down, leaving tingling sensations on your body.

“August…”

You hum in delight, you missed having his name on your tongue even though you’ve been doing that many times while pleasing yourself, ashamed of how even when you ran away, this man still had you captive. 

“Take me, princess,” he demands against your ear in a raspy voice. Somehow you manage to ignore the snake-like sensation of the harness that wraps around your neck. When you realize what he is doing, you’re already leashed and thrown back on your elbows while August kneels behind you, holding one hand around your waist while the other is clasped around the leather strap.

“August!”  

He hushes you sweetly and tugs the strap to warn you, making you grind backwards at his demand. 

“Be my good girl,” he asks darkly and pushes himself all the way inside you, as deep as he can possibly reach. His fist tightly holds the strap, pulling you to him to meet his thrust and slide you on his cock.

Your groans are synced in a delightful unison, both of you overwhelmed by how much you missed each other’s bodies.

August makes you feel whole, not just by his generous length and girth, but because it’s him. Even though he made you cry way too many times that you can count, the ache of not being with him was far, far worse. 

He pulls away from you in an achingly slow rhythm, one hand squeezing your pained cheek while the other slightly loosens on the leash. You already protest at his departure, needing him back inside when his fist clenches again, tugging you back to meet his punishing thrust. 

“You feel... so... good, princess.” his voice is as broken as your heart as he sheaths himself inside you, groaning loudly to let you know how great and tight you are around his cock. “Take it,  take it all.”

You’re a whimpering, feeble thing, completely submissive to his urge. Throwing your head back with your hair falling against your spine, you let him slam into you again. August harnesses you like a bitch, having complete control over you while your heart flutters at both the sensation of his cock splitting you apart and those deep grunts that escape his mouth. You’ve missed everything about him, the scent of his body, the bass of his voice, his ravenous gaze and even his stupid moustache.

You’re in a haze, existence becoming nothing but beating emotions, your united throbbing organs and the friction that continues to tighten and grow. Suddenly, August’s entire weight is sinking onto you. He moves to cover you, one hand pressing on the mattress while the other reaches out to your neck. His fingers lace underneath the leash while he begins to pump into you violently. 

There is wetness on your cheeks, rolling and dripping down your chin beyond your control. August sighs, looking at you and kissing the salty tears away.

“You know, you look really pretty when you cry.” 

Little spasms spiral from your core, right where you are connected, where August is claiming you as his. He grinds you into oblivion, ignoring the resistance of your walls and whispering dirty things in your ear. One by one, the tendrils of pleasure begin to snap and your walls shudder and dance urgently around his cock.

“Did you really think you could just break my heart, princess?!” 

It was all it took to destroy you. You collapse forward, your orgasm is so intense, you crouch down beneath the large man and scream your pleasure into the pillow. Your ass bucks back against him, taking his swollen cock all the way inside and forcing him to lose control and erupt into your body with a shudder and a prolonged grunt.

You feel the warmth of his seed seeping inside you. He likes to grind himself in while filling you with his cum, giving you all he has before pulling out and watching how it trickles down from your battered entrance with some twisted pride.

With his hands around your ribs, he takes you down with him, lying you on your back while he hovers onto you, sweaty and panting. Now begins the part when he takes care of you, soothing kisses and claiming strokes on the wetness of your body.

“Call off the wedding,” he makes one last demand, his lips pressing to your abdomen, trailing down lower in apology for every painful bruise that surely will be there tomorrow. 

You comb the mess of curls on his head between your fingers, watching him with a clenched heart while he lifts your legs and kisses all the way from your curled up knee to your inner thighs. 

“You are coming home with me, and that’s the end of it.”

Closing your eyes, you flex on the mattress with muscles aching from his touch. Your lips part slightly as you whisper your answer into the dark. _______________________________

[vergils-daughter]

Nero x Reader. “I’ll be watching you”

Because if she is too shy, she would rather spy on him

You are a wolf. You are a lone hunter, an arrow with soft feathers streaking silently through the night. Your goal is not important - only the path is. And the path leads through the ruins of the once beautiful city, ruthlessly desecrated by hordes of demons, and above their dead bodies. You do not remember when was the last time that your feet touched the ground. It is not safe to travel on the streets these days.

You are the silence. Your arrows – yes, even in these modern times you do use a bow, a magical artifact that you stole from the gods themselves – brings them death from out of the blue, fast and almost painless. Some of them can be used as a smoking screen, others could knock out cold a human - although these are not sufficient for these hard, spiky demon heads. For demons you have prepared some special ammunition.

You are the flame. There is the will of survival in you, although you do not remember who or what fired up that particular flame in you. The urge to keep forward ignites in you, but you do not know what becomes after. Or will there be any “after”. You just keep going and it is good. You keep killing, and it is good.

And you are quite lonely. You do not remember when was the last time you have seen a human being.

And one day you learned something new about yourself. That you are a very, very curious creature.

So you sit on a roof of an old church, well hidden behind a statue of a saint. You eat slowly, your gaze carefully sweeping the surroundings. You never ever loose your vigilance, not even by such prosaic activities like eating, not even on such a nice day.

Suddenly, something catches your attention – a spot of blue at the far end of the street, and then a flash. After that you hear distant shooting, multiplicated by echo. There is something going on. Someone is fighting. Demons do not use firearms. There must be a man involved.

A man.

That thought makes you freeze for a second or two. Then, you put that partly eaten candy bar into your bag and sling it over your arm. You take the bow that was laying on your lap. The arrow is already in your hand, you did not even have to think about drawing it. And you listen.

The shooting does not last long. You hear what might be a cry and then a roar. Afterwards, lots of roars. So, perhaps a single man is fighting a pack of demons. Heh. You give him a zero chance of wining. You do not know what was he seeking in these ruins, but certainly not his death. You can only hope it would be fast.

But to your surprise the fight extends, the cacophony of the shooting becomes more powerful - and suddenly it stops. You wait for a couple of minutes and carefully, without making any noise, move in that direction. You slip past the roofs, using paths only known to you, small bridges and ropes hanging over empty streets. You know most of the buildings here inside out and this particular alley has lately become sort of a territory for you.

When you reach your destination - a small square with a sad ruin of a fountain you see demons’ bodies already melting on the pavement. The creatures that lost their physical forms are coming back to their dimensions. Among all this carnage stands a bright haired boy with a huge sword in his left hand. His jacket was the spot of blue that caught your attention a moment ago. Now it is covered with blood, but, as far as you can see, that blood is not his. He stands still, as if contemplating what he has done, and does not seem wounded. You watch him with curiosity as he is cleaning his sword and then moves closer to the broken fountain, where some water is still flowing.

He takes off his jacket and tries to wash off the demons’ stains. You watch his bare arms and notice that the right one is artificial. He looks strong and resourceful, well armed. You smile subconsciously as it lightens your heart that he may survive in here.

Of course you can’t just walk down to meet him. The next few days you spend watching him from the safe distance. Spying on him is not hard at all – he is quite noisy, careless and does not even try to walk stealthily. He lashes out on the groups of demons with a loud cry, swinging his sword and firing the pistol attached to his artificial arm. You cheer on him silently and sometimes, only sometimes, help him a little with a well-aimed arrow. Most likely he has not noticed yet that someone is helping him. Or he may have, but is not showing that he has, even with those bloody arrows laying on the ground after the battle. You never go down to take them back, although you really should. You are too afraid that he would notice you.

One day you see him by a strange van. Its driver – a black haired girl. They talk a little -are you jealous?- and then he disappears in the vehicle. He leaves the van looking refreshed, with brand new prosthetic arms hanging from his belt. But apart from this single meeting, he travels alone.

One evening he sets up a camp within the wide hall of the museum. He prepares a small fireplace. You can see him well from a nearby building as the big windows of the museum were shattered some time ago. You yourself do not light a fire, as you do not need the light at all. You eat your food rations and wish him a good night. But somehow you know that the dream will not come too fast. The boy looks impatient, unable to stay in one place. He pokes at the fire with a stick, jiggles around as if something was upsetting him. He looks around as though he expects someone to join him. There is no chance. Within many kilometers there is only him and you, his silent guardian. Unless that van chick jumps in from thin air, no chance.

To your surprise, he unbuckles his pants with a sigh and takes his cock out. When you half expect him to piss on the fire, he grabs it firmly with his hand and starts to pump it rhythmically.

You hold your breath watching his parted lips and his closed eyes. In that one moment you distinctively feel his solitude and abandonment. You cannot avert your eyes from him. This act of self love in the middle of destroyed city moves something in you - something long forgotten. He sighs heavily and leans on one elbow. In complete silence you can hear his every motion. All your attention is focused on him, backlit by bustling fire, with hair so bright that they seem to burn...

This night you do not sleep.

And there comes the day that all your life turns upside down. When something goes terribly wrong. The fight is too quick for you to catch the moment when he was wounded. One of this nightmarish Sin Scissors must have attacked him from behind and stabbed him. Or one of lizard-like demons may have swung its tail and knocked him off his feet.

You don't know.

You don't know the moment when you failed to save him, even though you were shooting an arrow after arrow.

Not thinking much you fire a smoke arrow and, making best use of the cover, descend quickly using the gutter pipe. You remember where he fell. In the dark you find his leg and unceremoniously drag him out from the choking smoke. You put him under the wall and with a feeling of terror rising inside you, you notice the long streak of blood, leading straight to you two.

Demons feel it too. You just manage to notch an arrow when one of them crawls out of the cloud with its nose close to the ground and rushes straight to you. The arrowhead thrusts directly between his foul eyes, but one of the Scissors is already coming up. The first arrow disappears in the depths of its long robe, the second deflects from its scissors. You know there is no time to shoot the third, but you remain in place, guarding the boy with your own body.

The Sin Scissor rises her horrible blades ready to cut you in pieces when suddenly her head explodes. You cover your face with your arms, trying to shield it from the falling fragments of the demonic body. Then the Sin Scissor melts in the air, even before reaching the ground.

“At the last second, huh?”

You turn yourself and see the boy, supporting his body with his hand on the wall, his artificial arm risen high and gun still smoking from the recent discharge. He smiles at you unsteadily and suddenly his eyes roll back. He slowly slides down to the ground.

...

You do not remember when was the last time you were that close to another human being. All the activities related to taking care of him are like coming from the dark forest – the light brings out all the small things that normal people do not pay attention to. For example, how does it feel to touch someone else's skin, one with a different texture. Even the sound of rubbing it is interesting. His body wears the traces of former battles. The scars have different shapes, some thin and barely visible, others thick and palpable - and you touch every single one of them. When you wash his wounds you notice that his blood smells differently than yours. When you wrap his side with bandages you note that his chest is smooth and without a single hair, unlike his forearms and legs. His hair is not like yours, thinner, but the tone is similar – bright blonde. You have no idea how old he could be, as you lost the ability to determine another human's age. You call him a boy because of his rare facial hair, but he may be even older than you.

And how old are you exactly?

His lips are soft and thin. And very chapped. He needs to drink. You press the water flask to his mouth. He is barely conscious, but his lips immediately suck on the mouthpiece and he drinks greedily. A trickle of water goes down his chin, and you carefully wipe it with your hand.

You want to lick it up.

You take the dirty bandages out – later they need to be burned as the stench of blood could attract some unwanted attention from the demons. When you are back, his eyes are already open. You badly want to hide, to climb on the roof before he sees you, but it is too late. His blue eyes – you finally learn their color – look at you with growing amazement. His gaze stops above your shoulder - on the bow.

“You” - he says quietly. He tries to rise, but for that he is still too weak. “You are the archer”.

You come closer and kneel next to him. You pull up the blanket that slipped off from his shoulders. You say nothing, you do not know what and how. To tell the truth, you are not even certain how your voice sounds like.

"You saved me" - he says, raising his left arm towards you. "Thank you."

You try to move away, but despite his condition he is fast. He grabs you by the wrist. He is weak and you could easily free yourself. But you do not want to. You savor the push of his fingers on your skin and the warmth that spreads from it.

“Do you talk at all?” - He asks and there seems to be a bit of anxiety in his voice. “Is everything OK with you?”

You nod and smile. For some reason this soothes him. He releases your hand and lays back down. Resigned or relaxed, you cannot tell. You are not good at this stuff. You are not sure how to read someone’s face and voice. Only once have you seen him in a state when his emotions were pure and you had no doubt about them.

At the very thought of that moment you feel something familiar at the bottom of your belly. Suddenly you are out of air. He starts to say something – in fact, he is saying something for quite a time – but you do not hear him. You look at his moving lips and badly want to touch them.

And so you do it. But with your own, slightly parted lips, stopping him in mid-sentence. Then you move away a bit. For a few seconds you breath with his breath and focus on the sensation reported by your nostrils. On his scent. Then you move your tongue along his lips and this seems to switch something in him, as though a spark ran though his body. He inhales through his nose and embraces your waist, stronger than you would expect from him. His lips crush yours with a hard kiss.

You are not entirely sure what is happening or how you should proceed, but your body leads you and your own thoughts are pushed somewhere to the back of your head. You free yourself from his embrace and put away your bow and a quiver. You take your jacket off, followed by the blouse, then you pull off your boots and pants, gradually showing him your skinny, sinewy body, covered with scribbles.

These are not scribbles, these are ritual tattoos.

You put his blanket away and lay next to him. He is naked, too, as earlier you undressed him completely. The boy's eyes seem filled with some sort of a strong emotion when he moves you closer. You let out a loud sigh when his lips close around your nipple and suck it softly, while his hands stroke your sides. It is interesting how the artificial arm feels on your naked skin. You push his head closer to your breast. You hear a moan, and you realize that it is you who moans. Your voice is quite pleasant, even though it is a little inhuman.

He moves his lips higher, to your neck, and you try to hug him carefully, to avoid touching his recent wound – although considering his current behavior, he must regenerate quickly.

You stroke his neck and back and your hand goes all over his scars. Lower and lower, until you touch his buttocks.

Suddenly you feel him touching you between your legs, in the area from which the warmth spreads and which is already very wet. His biological hand slides over your labia, fingers gently learning their way, clasping the folds and pressing a little here and there. Your legs instinctively spread out, encouragingly, and your hips lift up a little. His fingers slip in easily, without any resistance, and his palm presses the knot of nerves a little higher, sending a shot of pleasure up your spine.

You arch your back and sink your fingers in his arms.

“I do not believe this is happening” - he murmurs, with his lips on your neck. His hand starts to move slowly, but you shake them off. You force him on his back and you sit on him astride. Before he manages to protest you put a finger on his mouth and shake your head.

How exactly you know what to do? The memories – no, the senses – are guiding you when you put his cock inside you and drop down on him with one smooth motion, until your hips connect. His eyes widen with ecstasy and his mouth barely catches the breath.

Try not to kill him.

You begin to ride him vigorously, your eyes still fixed on his face. He tilts his head backwards and closes his eyes, submitting to you, almost inert. His facial expression now resembles that which you saw when he was making self-love. The memory of this act brings out a low purr from your throat. You lean on his chest curling your fingers, pushing your fingernails deeper into his skin.

You feel something urgent, some hunger that does not allow you to keep the current rhythm. You want more, you want it harder and you want it right now. You clench your tights with all your strength. You move up and down, moaning every time his cock rubs your sensitive spot. You push yourself upwards from his chest, leaving streaks of red where your fingers where, and arch your back, changing the angle. You feel his hands on your hips when he supports you, rolling his lips and driving in harder.

Your bodies are wet, the light of the fire deepens the shadow and underlines smooth surfaces dewy with sweat, his upper body covered with scars and your back and legs incrusted with strange symbols. The boy is looking at your small breasts that bounce in the rhythm of your movements, then on your neck and your long hair. His eyes are blurry, insentient and full of delight.

Your breath becomes erratic and a shiver runs through your body, the walls of your vagina start to clench around him. You put your hands on his and hold firmly as if you needed something stable, that would not let the great incoming wave to wash you off the cliff. Something impossibly pleasant takes over you, and yet somehow you manage to ride him even faster. You bite your lips so hard that they start to bleed. You hear a groan and some sort of warmth spreads inside you, but it does not stop you. Your long moan turns into a cry when you reach your own climax, and it enervates you, deafens and blinds you completely.

You open your eyes to the sudden silence. You feel a fragile wind, blowing in through the broken windows, cooling your wet skin and causing you to shiver. You look down at your bodies, still connected. It looks like the boy has just drifted away. Well, to be honest, you did not let him to rest, didn’t you? At least he still seems alive.

You slide off him and put a blanket on him. When you reach for your clothes, you hear his voice.

“But you wont leave me now, will you?”

You shake your head.

“I do not want it to be a dream. Do not go away, please.”

You smile, what more could you do? For as long as he needs to recover you will be guarding him, that's for sure. But you cannot promise him what will happen afterwards.

In the end, you are the lonely wolf, the silence and the flame.

And he is merely human.

[yangssunglasses]

The Maiden and the Fox

Chapter 2

Read on FFnet

.

After the assembly was concluded, Sakura was whisked into the Hokage tower and given a lavish suite, normally kept for visiting dignitaries. She was granted luxury in the last remaining hours of her life. Her father visited, only to tell her how proud he and her mother were of her noble sacrifice. Mother didn’t even bother to come, not that Sakura expected her to. She’d become a family disappointment when she’d turned sixteen and instead of marrying a good boy with a nice, big stretch of fertile land, she took up medicine under Tsunade’s tutelage. To make up for the parental indifference, her best friend Ino threw a big scene and had to be dragged out by the guards. Feeling emotionally drained after that, Sakura asked not to be disturbed until the dress fitting.

Sakura was staring out of the window into the darkened sky, the red glow on the horizon warning of the Fox, when someone knocked. She remained silent, her dry eyes glued to the outside view.

The door opened and closed with a little too much force. Then a hand grabbed her by the shoulder and she was forcibly turned around to look into the narrowed face of Uchiha Sasuke.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” he hissed.

Sakura raised her eyebrows. He sounded genuinely angry with her and she couldn’t understand why. If this had happened any time before his rejection, she’d have withered under his fearsome glare. Now she straightened her spine and met his gaze head on.

“Saving the village,” she replied evenly, taking his hand off her shoulder. “Is there something wrong with that?”

“Wrong? You’re sacrificing your own life and you ask me what is wrong with it? Un-fucking-believable.” He ran a hand through his hair and she couldn’t help but think how attractive that looked. Sakura bit her lip and looked away.

Sasuke started pacing. She hadn’t seen him this worked up since his brother’s terminal illness had been diagnosed.

“What is the Hokage even thinking? This is so foolish. We should be planning to kill the Fox, not give in to his demands. How do we know he’ll even keep to his word? What if he changes his mind and destroys the village anyway or demands more sacrifices?” Sasuke ranted. “You shouldn’t have gotten involved with this insanity at all. You’re supposed to be smarter than that,” he said accusatorily.

Sakura narrowed her eyes at him. “Well, someone has to do something to save us all and it may as well be me,” she replied, putting hands on her hips.

“But it doesn’t have to be you,” Sasuke argued mulishly. “We have fighters, we have the police force. Let us take care of the Fox.” He pointed at the insignia stitched to his jacket. Sasuke’s father was the Chief of the Police.

Sakura shook her head slowly. “That’s impossible and you know it. Your father knows it. You can’t kill a demon. If you try, you will only die and the village will be destroyed.”

He pressed his lips together, fists clenched at his sides. He had no rebuke to the naked truth, but was still unable to accept it.

Sakura felt a pang in her chest.

“Why do you care anyway?” she asked, facing the window again. It was easier to look at the horizon rather than him. “You should be relieved. Your fiancée is going to be safe. Seiko, right?” Sakura risked a quick glance at him from under her eyelashes.

“My fiancée has nothing to do with any of this,” he replied, his face suddenly made of granite.

“Good for her,” Sakura said flippantly. “I just don’t see why you’re getting so bent out of shape over this. It’s not like you have a reason to love me or anything.”

Sasuke flinched back as if she physically struck him in the gut and she smirked in satisfaction. She finally got to throw his cruel words back into his face. She hurt him back and it felt good.

“Damn it, Sakura. You shouldn’t die. You can’t,” he said roughly.

“Why?” She launched the question at him like a ninja needle, rapid, sharp and deadly when it hits the target.

He stared at her mutely, stark helplessness reflecting in his eyes. Her expression hardened.

“I thought so,” she said cuttingly and turned to the window again. “If you don’t have any real reason, then leave me alone. I want some peace and quiet on my last night alive.”

She pretended indifference, but she was looking at him out of the corner of her eye, hyperaware of his every movement. She waited, counting seconds.

One… two… three… four… five… Why isn’t he leaving?

He was just standing there, head bowed and face obscured from her view. The bunched up muscles in his shoulders and arms vibrated as if he was gripped by some sort of a great internal struggle.

Sakura frowned and kept counting. Why wasn’t he leaving?

… Eighteen… nineteen… twenty…

Sasuke sucked in a breath and looked up at her.

“Sakura… I… care about you. I don’t want you to… I don’t want to lose you.”

“Lose me?” She snorted in disbelief, whirling to face him. “You already did, heck, you made it abundantly clear that you wanted me gone from your life! You didn’t just lose me, you made me get lost! And after that, I am supposed to believe that you care? That you want me to live? That’s-that’s ridiculous.”

“It’s the truth,” he replied simply.

Sakura stared at him, wide-eyed, feeling bereft. Sasuke wouldn’t lie like that. He wouldn’t tell her a bald-faced lie just to play with her feelings. He wasn’t like that.

“What about your fiancée?” she asked desperately.

“What about her?”

“You must surely care much more about her than me! She’s the one you want to marry. So stop bothering me and go home. Be with her. Enjoy your happy life in safety from the Fox.”

“Sakura,” he said seriously and held up her chin to look her straight in the eye. “What I want and what I can have are two completely different things. And you have no idea what I really want.”

The intensity of his onyx gaze made her throat dry. She licked her lips and didn’t miss how his gaze flickered to them in interest.

“Then… try me,” she whispered.

His smoldering eyes flashed at her challenge and in an instant, he pulled her hard against his chest and his mouth covered hers in her very first kiss. She blinked in surprise, her eyes fluttering shut as she was swept away by the pleasurable rush. At first, he took her lips impetuously, as if he was afraid she’d push him away and so wanted to get as much out of it as he could, then with a change in angle, he slowed down, kissing her deeply, passionately, and thoroughly. His big hand caressed her nape and a shiver went through her, a quiet moan coming from her throat as she kissed him back. A pleasant tingling warmed her low in her belly and she squirmed against his lean body.

Sasuke released her lips for a breath and, as they panted, she was pulled in by the dark heated look in his eyes, which she realized was desire. Sakura gulped.

Without warning, he kissed her again and she let him. His hands were no longer static, instead they roamed her back, shoulders, and arms eliciting more of that delicious tingling. She pressed even closer into him, chest to chest, feeling the thudding in his ribcage against her breast.

When he grabbed her under the bottom and lifted her up, Sakura broke the kiss with a startled yelp. Sasuke carried her swiftly across the suite and deposited her on the bed. She bounced on the mattress and looked up at him with confusion.

“Sasuke-kun, what are you…”

“Sakura,” he interrupted her roughly and reached down to his belt, “you won’t be sacrificed if you’re no longer a virgin.” She watched, transfixed as he unbuckled the belt with a snap. Then, when his meaning finally got through to her, she gasped. Her panicked gaze locked with his determined one.

“No, Sasuke-kun, you can’t! I have to be the sacrifice to save the village!”

“Someone else can do that. I don’t care as long as it’s not you,” he muttered dismissively as he kneeled on the bed. Sakura scrambled back. This was moving too fast. She wasn’t ready…

“What about Seiko? What if they took her?” she blurted out to stall him. “Unless you already…”

A crease appeared between his eyebrows. “Stop bringing her into this,” he snapped irately.

“Why? Because it reminds you that you have a fiancée and you shouldn’t cheat on her?” Sakura shot back as she tucked her legs under her, kneeling on the bed. She could stand up whenever she wanted.

Sasuke growled with irritation. “Sakura, why are you so goddamn difficult? I’m trying to save your life!” he hissed as he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her.

Sakura looked him in the eye coldly. “Oh, is that right? Or maybe you just want to take advantage of a girl that’s going to die tomorrow anyway? Yesterday you wouldn’t even look at me.”

Sasuke’s eyes narrowed and he dived to steal another kiss, but she pushed him away.

“No. No more of this. I have more morals than that. I won’t help you cheat,” she said firmly and stood up. She walked off the bed and pointed to the door. “You should leave. Or I’ll call the guards.” Ironic that the men posted outside her suite for her “protection”, which translated to keeping the village’s sacrifice from running away at the last moment, would actually be useful to protect her. “Now,” Sakura said sharply when he didn’t move.

Wordlessly, Sasuke got off the bed and, redoing the belt’s buckle, then stiffly walked towards the exit. Before he reached it, he looked back at her with desperation.

“Sakura, I realize I hurt you in the past but I’ll do anything to prove myself to you. I’ll fight the Fox for you if that’s what it takes,” he declared fervently, which both scared and angered her. If he thought a few words would get her to cave in, he had another thing coming.

Pale-faced, with arms crossed, Sakura shook her head at him. “Don’t be foolish. I don’t wish for your death. That would be a waste of my sacrifice. Besides,” she sighed and hugged herself tighter, turning her face to the left, “there’s nothing you can do to convince me. Please go now.”

She stood her ground, meeting his gaze unflinchingly and she saw the exact moment the fight went out of his eyes. Sasuke looked down, then at her again. He clenched his fists and with an incline of his chin in farewell, he walked out. The door closed behind him quietly. Sakura stared at them for a moment, then pressed her forehead to smooth wooden surface.

“You already broke my heart,” she whispered after him, knowing he wouldn’t hear it.

She slid to her knees and wrapped herself in her arms, wracked with dry sobs. “Kami,” she choked out and ran her hands through her hair from the front all the way to the back, as if in an attempt to put some order into the mess of her existence. Had she really done the right thing? Was Sasuke right after all and she had wasted her one chance to save her life out of the stupid pride? Should she have trusted him?

She didn’t know. She didn’t know.

Trembles took over her body and she bowed down in anguish. Tears she couldn’t hold back anymore dropped onto her hands and floor under her. Then she curled up on the floor and cried until she ran out of all the tears.

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AN: Thanks for reading! This is second part of the story I’m writing for SSM day 10 prompt - Fox’s Wedding! Let me know how you liked it and until next time :)