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kiame-sama · 9 months ago

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Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x Fem!Reader) Monster AU pt 7

(Last of my predrawn beast men, so I should probably see if I can get the next chapter picture drawn despite my slow af laptop fighting me for every bit of existence)

Warnings; Yandere, platonic yandere, romantic yandere yandere behavior, yandere tempers, yandere attitudes, custody battle, poaching, territorial behavior, hoard guarding, implied violence, cooking, casual threats, untrusting yet kind-hearted reader, fem pronouned reader, Vampire Bat, Raiju, Cervitaur, Dragon, Crow, Unicorn, Cecilia, Harpy, Nemean Lion, Shinigami, Water Nymph, Gnoll, Crow,

~~~~~~~~

The loud crack of thunder drew you from your deep sleep. You had been pressing your face and entire body into the warmth beneath you and you could already feel the faint imprints along your cheek from whatever you were laying on. Thunder continued to roll outside and you slowly tried to gather your bearings.

Currently, you were in the nest Malleus had constructed in Ramshackle, though you were not the only occupant when you fell asleep or when you woke up. Lilia and Sebek were awake, their gazes turned outside and it was still rather dark out. You slowly sat up, trying to see what was so interesting outside when a green bolt of lighting struck the ground near Ramschackle. The sudden lighting forced a squeak of fright to escape you which drew the attention of Lilia and Sebek.

"I was worried he would wake you. It's alright, (Y/n), go back to sleep."

"What's going on, Lilia?"

"An unfortunate poacher decided to try their luck and Malleus was the one who took note of their presence. Don't worry, you're safe."

"Is Malleus okay?"

Lilia giggled at this, reaching out a hand to pat your head in an affectionate way. He was acting as if he didn't just say Malleus was fighting someone who was trying to hunt you down for their own nefarious gains.

"Of course he is. Malleus is a Dragon and there are very few who can actually stand up against a Dragon."

You were going to respond to Lilia when you noticed something strange. Silver didn't seem to be present and he certainly wasn't with Lilia or Sebek. Worry began to bubble up in your chest as to where the Reindeer man could possibly be before you felt the warm bed beneath you breathe.

Looking down, you were both horrifed with yourself and the situation as you realized you had been laying across Silver's Reindeer half like a bed. Your legs straddled the Reindeer's hips and you had likely been nuzzled down into the shoulder blades of the deer half. His human half was sitting up and completely still even as one of his blue and pink aurora colored eyes stared at you over his shoulder.

He was very warm and soft.

"Oh? Oh! Goodness, Silver, I'm so sorry-!"

As soon as it hit you that you must have crawled on top of the Reindeer during the night, you were quickly trying to get off of his back. Lilia actually started to laugh as you quickly dismounted from the Reindeer's back, falling back into a pile of pillows and disrupting poor Grim. The cat-like creature responded in a startled way to being jostled, his pronged tail lashing wildly as his fur stood on end in fear. You would have laughed at the startled response if you didn't feel so badly about frightening him to that point.

"Myeh?! Hey! What's the big deal? I'm sleeping-"

Another crack of thunder sent the furball diving forward to hide against your stomach, shaking in abject horror from the uncomfortably close sound. Of course Grim would be terrified of lightning, who knows how easily that 'den' of his would flood in a storm or how close he has been to being struck by a bolt. You couldn't help but pull the soft gray critter closer, petting his torn ears and back to try and soothe him even as his little wings shook.

"... You can lay on my back if that will help you sleep."

The almost tired drawl came from Silver as he slightly turned to look at you better, his Reindeer half partially rolling to one side when he yawned. Despite how inviting the offer was, you were still upset with yourself and worried you had offended the silver haired man somehow. Though you had been dubious about sharing the large nest with your- mostly uninvited- guests, you had been the one to invade his personal space and even climbed on his back while you slept.

"No! No, it's okay. I'm so sorry, Silver. I didn't mean to-"

"Why are you so upset?"

"... What?"

"I'm not angry, if that's why you're worried. Father sleeps on my back quite often during the day. I'm not angry you chose me as your sleeping companion."

"But I didn't mean to-"

"I know. You likely were drawn to how warm I typically am. It is quite drafty in this building, and it doesn't seem like there is any central heating."

You made a mental note to ask the professors about potentially acquiring a heated blanket to avoid cuddling your bed companions while you slept. It seemed like Silver was being truthful with you as Lilia crawled over to your side from where he had been gazing out the window. He was quick to flop down across the secondary shoulders of the large Reindeer and ruffled the silver fur with his Bat wings as he made himself comfortable.

"Silver's nice and soft, and his coat always keeps him warm even in winter. He really does make a good bed whenever I need a quick nap. Besides, he makes such cute little snoring sounds-"

"Father!"

"Keeheehee, just saying~ (Y/n), you should have seen him when he was just a little wobbly calf. I have some pictures back at Diasomnia I can show you. His legs were so long and he always tripped over them-"

"Father, please."

Lilia's joking helped calm your stress from the situation and also seemed to be helping Grim calm down. The blue-eyed cat-bat finally lifted his head from where he had been hiding his face against your stomach, reaching out a paw to touch the Reindeer's side. He clearly must have liked how warm and soft Silver was as he crawled out of your arms, curling up next to Lilia on Silver's back and snuggling down into the shaggy fur. You almost missed it, but as you looked up at Silver you could see a clear bright pink blush painting his fair cheeks before he looked away.

"It's over. My liege is on his way back."

Sebek said calmly, still looking outside with an almost unreadable expression. The lightning hadn't struck more than once and the thunder quickly quieted down after the first boom that woke you. It was almost like the storm was not actually a storm and you wondered just what it was that caused the lightning or why it was green.

He entered the room silently, only his bright green eyes were visible in the dark of the hallway as if he were wreathed in shadows themselves before he entered the room. Moonlight streamed across his form and he was once again the odd Dragon that had stumbled across you that first day.

"Did I wake you, child of man?"

"The thunder did."

"My apologies."

"Why are you apologizing for thunder? You didn't make it happen... Right?"

Malleus smiled as he returned to the nest, settling by your side and smiling at you patiently. It must not have been raining as he didn't seem to have a drop of water on him. He tilted his head and regarded you affectionately as if he were watching a beloved pet paw at him for attention.

"How little you know... Don't worry, there won't be anymore thunder tonight. I have the feeling that my message was recieved loud and clear."

"Did..." you found it oddly difficult to talk, "did you kill someone?"

Malleus didn't answer you, he just slowly blinked and reached out a clawed hand, patting your head gently. You found yourself wanting a bit more distance from the Dragon, wondering if you made a mistake to ask a question you truly did not want the answer to. As per usual, Lilia was quick to interrupt the tension with a loud yawn and stretch as if to imply you all should return to sleep.

"Here, (Y/n), I'll groom you to sleep again!"

"You really don't have to, Lilia."

"But I want to."

"One of these days I need to talk to everyone about personal space..."

~•§•~

The early morning dawn seemed to be a sleepy one as things slowly emerged from their warm beds and into the brisk morning. The low roll of thunder heard late in the night was certainly not lost on anyone as to the source of the sound. Even the few who rose for an early meeting seemed to be acutely aware of the Dragon's absence.

"Good morning, all. I have called this meeting at the behest of Riddle concerning the most recent events of orientation."

The Headmage stood at the head of the table, his feathers slightly ruffled from sleep as it was still quite early in the day. He usually rose with the sun and clearly had more energy than some of the Housewardens sitting at the table. Leona was barely awake as he lay with his head on the table, only the flicking tail showed the Nemean Lion was even conscious.

"As I am sure you all know by now, we have a Human living in the dorm on the main campus. Unlike most dorms, you do not need to enter a mirror to get to it and so it is easier for outsiders to access. However, there is no other place the Human can stay without putting her at risk of too curious students. Riddle, you told me you had a solution in mind for this?"

Riddle nodded, clearing his throat and straightening his bow.

"(Y/n) is Human and we all understand the gravity of the situation at hand. Humans died out from Twisted Wonderland centuries ago and now one has appeared in our school. It is our duty as Housewardens to assist in the safeguarding of this Human as her survival could mean the beginning of advancements made far beyond our lifetimes and even in our lives now. I'm sure we all understand the importance of keeping her safe. This being said, I am of the mind that it's time to switch out who is safeguarding (Y/n). This should be a shared duty of all the Housewardens, not just a privilege exclusive to Diasomnia."

Crowley nodded, leaning against his hand as he gave the proposition more thought. It seemed several of the other Housewardens were in agreement- at least, those who were physically present- at the idea of a shared responsibility.

"I, for one, think this is a wonderful idea, Riddle. Octavinelle is ready to open our doors to this poor unfortunate soul and keep her safe."

"You aren't usually one to offer help without a price, Azul. What are you looking to get out of this?"

"Nothing, of course! Just looking to help the less fortunate."

"I highly doubt that, Azul."

It was then Vil spoke up, the Harpy regarding the other Housewardens as if assessing them while he spoke. He could raise issue with letting the soft Human stay with any one of these uncouth ruffians.

"I agree that we all need to take turns guarding the Human, but how many of us can honestly be trusted with her? It is clear now that all of Twisted Wonderland will soon know she is here if they don't already. Frankly I wouldn't trust any one of you with her safety. Riddle, what makes you think you should be the one to protect her?"

"W-What?"

"It was one of your dorm's students who decided to post a picture of her. I think your dorm has done enough damage for now. I should think you would agree to revoke your own rights to guard her until you can prove you are able to keep your students in line."

"What is that supposed to mean, Vil?"

"Oh? Do I have to spell it out for you? Usually you're smarter than this, Riddle."

Vil stood, his crest raised and an almost cruel smile curling his lips as he approached the distraught Unicorn. As far as Riddle was concerned, only he knew the rules to taking proper care of a Human so only he could provide adequate accommodations for her. But the way Vil spoke made a dark kind of doubt seep into Riddle's mind, wondering if the Harpy could be right and that alone was an upsetting reality Riddle didn't really want to face at the moment.

"You can't even begin to protect that Human from students in your own dorm, how can you hope protect her from actual threats?"

Riddle wanted to retort or have the grinning Harpy's head but he couldn't find the words to respond to the proud bird. Vil only grinned wider at the silence he was met with before turning to the other Housewardens with that same energy.

"None of you can. Leona shouldn't even be considered given he's a Nemean Lion. Azul will try to make a deal with her. Kalim will lose her within minutes. Idia can't even talk to us let alone talk to and protect her. Really, the only two who could be of any use are Malleus and I. Malleus is genetically wired to be a good guardian and I certainly have enough skill to actually keep her alive."

Crowley considered Vil's words, tilting his head side to side as he thought about what the Harpy said. He was of the mind to just let the Human choose her own guard, but maybe he would have to reconsider that given how upset the Housewardens were getting over her and it had only been two days. There was truth to the unusual charm of the extinct species and the hold they clearly had over others even in such a short time.

"I think you all are ignoring the bigger truth and being selfish as hell."

The growl came from the golden lion that now lifted his head from the table he had been resting it on. His green eyes glinted in the morning light and the faint sunrays seemed to shine off of his golden coat. Even his wild tresses held a faint glimmer that made the prince look every bit as regal as his lineage suggested.

"She isn't from here. She has a home she likely wants to go back to. We can't talk like we're keeping her when we should find a way to send that Mousey home."

"I would agree with you, Leona," Azul started, his eyes glinting with humor at the knowledge he was about to reveal, "but there are a few problems with that notion. Jade and I spoke with her yesterday and she claims she came from somewhere filled with Humans. There is nowhere like that left in Twisted Wonderland. I would wager she is from another reality entirely, one where only Humans thrive. One that we can't get to despite many trying in the past to prove we are not alone. I don't know how she got here, but she is stuck here now. Besides, do you really want to be the one to tell Malleus we are taking his Human away? I get you don't pay attention in classes, but I certainly do and I have heard the many tales of Dragons going as far as to kidnap Humans they are fond of."

Leona growled a low warning to the Cecilia to watch his words lest he be the recieving party of the Lion's ire. Though he was a lazy Lion and didn't seem to be bothered with much, he was still a force to be reckoned with when he actually decided to fight.

"Why the hell should I care why that damn lizzard wants the Human?"

"Well, Dragons and other Fae did take the extinction of Humans the hardest and mourn the longest, I would wager the older ones are still in mourning. Next to them, the Merfolk were the next most heartbroken by the ending of such a fascinating species. I wouldn't expect you to understand- being a Nemean Lion and all- but-"

"Keep talking, Cephalo-punk and I'll give you something to mourn over."

Azul closed his mouth quickly, knowing he wouldn't actually stand a chance if pitted against the weapon-immune golden Lion. For all his abilities, so many seemed to pale in comparison to the sheer strength Leona contained in his form alone. Out of the water, a Lion would always win in a direct fight against an octopus, the same was true for Nemean Lions and Cecilia.

"I can protect her better than most of you but none of you want to admit that. You all want to pretend I'll gobble that little Mousey up and refuse to even let me stand my own ground. What? Too afraid she'll like me more than you lot?"

This got Vil's feathers to ruffle as the Harpy seemed ready to fight the grinning Lion that so clearly challenged those at the table. Luckily for everyone else, the floating tablet finally decided to interrupt the conversation.

"Fine, we all gotta do it. I vote everyone's dorm gets put in a raffle and the next Housewarden to guard her is chosen that way."

"This is unlike you, Idia. You don't even show up in person to most classes."

"Humans were the best inventors we had before they died out. The last human lived on the Isle of Woe and made enough inventions to keep the Shroud family rich for centuries. Why wouldn't I want the best story telling species and most inventive species to give me new ideas? Probably why you want her too, Azul."

"Well, I certainly understand a profitable business venture when one is presented to me..."

"Exactly my point."

Crowley nodded, clapping his hands together and drawing the attention of those at the table. He heard exactly what he wanted to hear and he was willing to give every Housewarden a fair chance, even Leona.

"I believe a raffle is a fantastic idea, Mr. Shroud! And because I am just so kind to all, every Housewarden will be given a fair shot."

"Headmage, I beg you to reconsider-"

"Let's start this raffle!"

Riddle tried to start but the Crow had made up his mind and there was no changing it. As he used magic to summon his usual way of raffling students, he glanced around the room for a moment. Odd, he only counted six but there should be seven?

"... Did no one remember to invite Mr. Draconia to today's meeting?"

~•§•~

You stood in the kitchen of Ramschackle dorms, tiredly cooking up enough breakfast to feed your uninvited guests, Cater, yourself, and Grim. Despite your annoyance at being the only one to cook- let alone being the only one who really knew how- you dutifully continued your task. According to Silver, Lilia actually cooked often but was so abysmally bad at it they all thought cooking was a useless skill. It wasn't until you cooked for them that they even realized cooking food could actually make it taste better and not worse.

"If you all insist on making me cook for you, I'm going to insist you all provide the ingredients. The kitchen may be well stocked now, but if I have to keep feeding extra mouths every day the pantry is going to eventually run out."

You idly listened to the sizzle as you half-jokingly scolded the group that milled about your kitchen and sniffed in your direction occasionally. They were eager to get some breakfast from you and had all woken up before you did in anticipation for the warm meal you would no doubt create. Apparently you had once again moved to cuddle Silver's warm body in your sleep and the Reindeer refused to let Grim or even Lilia wake you before the sun was mostly up. The five others in the shared nest were all in agreement to let you wake on your own time, but your actual invited guest was quick to herald in the morning and woke you. It seemed like Malleus and Sebek were ready to attack the redhead but quickly calmed when you pulled yourself out of the nest to start cooking.

Cater had been an affectionate nuisance and asked you nonstop questions about what you were doing and how Humans cooked things. It became very clear to you- based on his questions and curiosity- that junkfood really didn't exist in Twisted Wonderland. Despite how you wanted to cry upon hearing this and mourn the loss of your comfort foods, you realized that you may be able to make your own junkfoods. You would certainly need help acquiring things, but there had to be some kind of inventive monster on this campus that could help you.

"I agree! These guys can bring the food and you can cook it! Why let them get all this free stuff if they don't help with getting or making it?"

"I can help cook-"

You were quick to smack the reaching hand with your wooden spoon, startling Lilia as his wings fluffed out in surprise.

"You," you started with a near threatening tone, "will keep your hands off of the things in my kitchen. Silver already told me how your cooking is and I will not allow you to scorch my meals."

"I think I'm a pretty good cook-"

"The answer is 'no'. You don't get to cook in my kitchen. I agree with Grim that it would be a welcome change to have you all bring me the foods you want and maybe even more spices than the few I have here, but you aren't cooking. If you really want to help me right now, you can start washing dishes."

Silver sent a silent thanks your way for sparing him and the others from another evening spent eating Lilia's cooking. The Bat Fae had learned to love cooking from the few Humans he had the pleasure of meeting, but he was so abysmally bad at it that his 'meals' could barely be considered food. Malleus and Sebek were also relieved to see you quickly shut down any idea of letting Lilia cook and they all breathed a sigh of relief.

"I can do dishes! Riddle and Trey make me do them all the time. Don't know why Trey never lets me help him bake things though."

Cater was quick to roll up his sleeves, starting on the pile of dishes that had already begun to accumulate in the large sink. Maybe it wouldn't be all that bad if you could get your freeloaders to help clean or gather ingredients instead of doing it all yourself. Despite calling them freeloaders, you were appreciative of at least Malleus and Lilia being fairly adept guards for your safety. It did make you wonder what Malleus had done last night, but you also felt in your heart of hearts that you didn't really want to know if the lovely Dragon had killed someone on your behalf.

"Hey," there was loud scratching at that side door again and you already knew who it was, "the door's locked again. Please, have mercy, I'm just a starving Gnoll."

"... I really shouldn't have fed him. He's gonna come back every day and night for more."

You had the foresight to add extra to what you were making, anticipating the unusual pull your cooking seemed to have on the local monster population. Part of you wanted to keep feeding Ruggie as the gaunt appearance of the ever hungry Gnoll pulled at your heartstrings. His clear hunger and almost non-existent stomach told you just how little the Hyena man actually ate and it genuinely saddened you to know he was likely actually starving.

"Lilia, can you get the door?"

"On it~"

Ruggie was quick to scamper up to your side and sniff loudly at the food you were cooking. His tail wagged at almost impossible speeds as his stomach howled to be satiated, his Hyena head bobbing up and down when he began to cackle in excitement. Despite the warnings you had received about Gnolls, Ruggie didn't act like a slavering beast that sought Human flesh, instead he seemed much like someone who grew up never knowing when he could eat again or if he would be safe in the night. He reminded you so much of that first good look you got at Grim, covered in all the scars that riddled his little body and marred his cute appearance with tales of agony sustained. Both of them made you want to protect them however you could.

As you moved over to another pan which you had been using to cook up some scrambled eggs, you couldn't help but chuckle when Ruggie continued to vocalize his excitement. The cackling and whooping from the Hyena was almost a comforting song in the background of your morning. It was only when he reached a grizzled paw towards the pans that you barked out a similar whoop at him. Your sound startled the Gnoll as his gaze snapped to you in surprise, his nose working overtime as if to find the fellow Gnoll that whooped in response to his sounds.

"Woah! You didn't say you knew how to speak Gnoll!"

"I don't."

"What was that then?"

"Where I'm from, Humans are typically quite good at vocal mimicry because it is how most of our infants learn to speak. You were whooping, so I whooped back."

Ruggie cocked his head to the side curiously, you could almost see the gears in his head turning and grinding as he took in your words. His short tail had been still as he lost himself in thought before it resumed the rapid wagging pace as his brain caught back up to the rest of him.

"Cool! What other sounds can you make?"

The rest of your time cooking was spent making various noises- from growls, to cackles, even to various barking- to entertain the Gnoll and distract him from the food. Once it was ready, you had Sebek get enough plates for the eight of you and set to divvying up the meals. Naturally, Ruggie and Grim were the first to happily dig in to their breakfasts.

Things were peaceful and somewhat quiet, but as it usually was in this strange new world, things were not going to stay quiet for long.

"(Y/n)," a familiar voice called from the direction of the door to your dorms, recognizing the voice of the Headmage Crow, "I have news and a gift for you, my little chick! Where are you?"

"We're in the kitchen!"

The Headmage was surprised to see the odd group you had gathered in your kitchen, looking over the various students in surprise.

"Mr. Diamond? What are you doing here?"

"I told Cater he could stay here for the night since he was kicked out of his dorm. Sure, what he did was stupid and I am still mad about it, but no one should have to spend a night in those woods. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if something terrible happened to him, especially in the name of protecting me."

"It's beautiful," the Crow sniffed as if he were about to cry, "such a heartwarming display of genuine kindness! I would expect nothing less from the beautiful heart of a Human! I've missed you wonderfully naïve and forgiving little creatures so much! Nothing quite like a Human's forgiveness to soothe the turbulent soul!"

You were stunned when the Crow actually burst into tears, covering his face with his hands and openly weeping from your- in your mind- simple act of kindness. It seemed the others weren't prepared for this behavior either as they all stared at the fully grown Crow Fae man weeping and bawling like an infant. He was quick to compose himself despite the sudden onslaught of tears as he pulled you into a hug you were too surprised to return, wondering what his problem was that he was so ready to emotionally break down in front of you.

"My beautiful little chick is the kindest soul to ever live and grace these halls with such a warm heart!"

"Um..."

"Here," he interrupted your confusion and pulled back to shove a hastily wrapped package into your hands, "A gift from your professors! It's a cellular device to let you communicate with us when you need. Sam assures me Idia has already programed our numbers into it and it is ready to be used whenever you wish."

"Thanks? Why-"

"Also! The other Housewardens and I have come to an agreement concerning your continued need for guards due to Mr. Diamond's actions. All Housewardens and their accompanying Vice-Housewardens will contribute to protecting this dorm and will switch out every week based on a raffle. This week is Diasomnia's turn, next week is Ignihyde's turn. You haven't met Idia or Ortho yet, but they'll be by to introduce themselves soon. Well, Ortho probably will be, Idia is excited to meet you but he isn't one to socialize much..."

A deep snarl came from where Malleus stood, casually setting his plate down to face the Crow directly and continue the deep percussive noise of his displeasure. It was more than obvious to everyone that the Dragon was not content with the idea of giving you up even for others to guard.

"You dare divvy up my hoard like I should have no say in what happens to her? My Human is not a pet to trade with anyone and everyone who takes interest."

"I'm not saying that, Malleus, what I am saying is her protection should be taken seriously by all students at Night Raven College and the best way to show others she is worth defending is to allow them time to form their own bonds with her by protecting her. Besides, Diasomnia needs their Housewarden and Vice-Housewarden. It isn't fair to those students to be left without yourself and Mr. Vanrouge permanently."

Malleus just growled in response, knowing Crowley was right but still furious he was not part of the decision making process.

"And Kingscholar? What of his dorm?"

"Mr. Kingscholar is a Housewarden and has made a convincing argument for allowing himself to be one of (Y/n)'s guards. As Savanaclaw has no Vice-Housewarden, it will soley fall on his shoulders when his name is drawn."

Ruggie then spoke up, trying to give yourself and Malleus a wide berth to not upset the Dragon further. Though the Gnoll was quick to fold to more powerful mages, he was excited to hear Leona would be given a chance and equal respect as a Housewarden.

"If Leona actually asked to help, no way he will let anyone tell him no. He doesn't like doing extra work, so the fact he volunteered for extra work shows he actually means to do it!"

"Exactly my thinking! Why deny such a strong student a chance to prove himself? Who knows, perhaps his time with (Y/n) will prove Nemean Lions do not deserve the negative view society has of them."

You were irritated that none of these men bothered to ask you how you feel about the situation, but if the nighttime interruptions were anything to go off of, you were still in danger. Though the prospect of being bounced around between several monster men didn't excite you, there was obviously need for their protective behavior.

"Now, I hope you all enjoy your classes today. I hear there may even be an unbirthday party happening in Heartslabuyl that you may wish to attend. Have a pleasant morning, my little chick."

#kiame-sama #yandere #x reader #yandere x reader #reader insert #tw yandere #yandere twisted wonderland #twst yandere #twst monster au #Humans Are Extinct TWST AU

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leighsartworks216 · 4 months ago

Text

I'm A Beast Again

werewolf!Sylus x fem!Reader

Part One

THE WEREWOLF SMUT YOU'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR (Sorry it's only fem Reader 😔)

Title from "Howl" by The Unlikely Candidates

SMUT BELOW THE CUT

Warnings: smut, fluff, mild hurt/comfort, swearing, painful transformation with minor descriptions, werewolf AU, biting, licking, kissing, marking, vaginal sex, knotting, size kink, belly bulge, drool

Word Count: 3,070

Main Masterlist

First - Second - Third LADS Masterlists

AO3

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Sylus's teeth grit together, so harsh it seems he could shatter them all. His breaths are heavy and labored. His chest heaves with each inhale and exhale. Sweat dapples his forehead. Drips down the back of his neck. His eyes, squeezed tightly shut.

You touch his cheek. He flinches away at first, but he's drawn right back to you, like always, pressing his cheek desperately into your palm. His skin burns so hot. Your hand must feel like ice to him right now.

"Don't... wanna hurt... you..." he pants through his teeth. Red eyes crack open with effort, dark and hazy, unfocused.

"You won't hurt me." He opens his mouth to protest, but you cover his mouth before he can speak. "You won't. I know you."

He shakes his head to dislodge your hand from his mouth. He wants to argue more, convince you to hide away in the safe room from him, but time's run out.

You step away as he thrashes. It's painful to watch. The cracking and creaking as his bones reshape themselves. The agonizing cries and gasps of your lover... It's too much. You close your eyes, cover your ears, and wait for it to be over.

As soon as everything quietens, you look again. A hulking, white-furred werewolf is hunched over on the couch where Sylus once sat. Clothes torn and ruined, leaving pieces of fabric strewn about. His eyes are closed, chest still heaving with each breath. He breathes in deeply... then again. His eyes open sharply and hone in on you.

You smile. It wobbles at the edges with uncertainty. You're not scared of him hurting you - on purpose, anyway. But can your body really handle what his body craves? You both expected this. Both prepared for this. But actually experiencing it is a whole other thing entirely. You just want to help him.

A low whine escapes from deep in his throat. His claws dig into the plush cushions. He's trying to hold himself back, even now, when he has so little control.

"Sylus." His ears perk up at the sound of his name. You take a deep breath and untie the sash around your waist, the only thing keeping your bathrobe closed. Undressing beforehand saves your clothes from the carnage. It falls to the floor in a heap. His tail begins to slowly sway from side to side. "I know you need this... And I want it, too." You step forward. His eyes watch the slight jiggle of your thighs, staring at what lay between them with the last threads of his restraint.

"I want to be your mate."

That one word cuts all ties to control he had left.

He lunges right for you. You're not afraid. You have no reason to be. Even now, as he shoves you down onto your back on the floor.

His claws curl around your arms, but refuse to dig into your skin. You hit the ground harder than intended, and he licks your cheek, as if in apology. If you didn't trust him with your safety before, you have no reason not to now.

He holds himself over you, trapping you where you lay. His claws dig into the rug beside your head. As they tense, curling deeper into the patterns, you hear the distinct sound of scraping wood.

His tongue continues to blaze a path on your skin, licking in long strokes down your neck and chest. His breath comes in hot pants, fanning against your rapidly warming skin. Every now and then, his wet nose brushes cold against you, making you gasp from the sudden chill.

You dig your fingers into his thick fur. "G-Good boy," you assure, caught off guard as his wide maw parts to rest his teeth on your breast. His tongue laves at your nipple, hot panting breaths aiding in its growing hardness, but he doesn't bite. Still, the pinpoints of his canines create divots in your flesh; a carefully withheld danger. His drool drips onto your chest, trails down your ribcage to the rug below. You shudder involuntarily.

It should be terrifying - you're small and defenseless, trapped with no chance of escape by a creature that could tear you to shreds without any effort.

But it's still Sylus.

His tenderness, his care, still bleeds through. Every time he transforms, he remembers nothing. All he knows is vague impressions - feelings and glimpses of intense memories. The moment you first saw him transform is the one thing burned truly into his memory. He holds the belief that he is a monster through and through. There is no kindness in this form. There is no mercy. No shreds of humanity left. If that were true, he wouldn't be taking the time to tend to your body like this.

It's still Sylus, and he can smell the response your sex has to his ministrations.

He pulls his mouth from one breast and turns to the other, low whine in his throat as he leaves small licks on your nipple. His nails dig deeper into the floor.

You whine in response, arching into your dear beast. You run a hand over his snout, between his brows, and scratch at that sweet spot behind his ear. His mouth hangs open, tongue lolling out as his head tilts into your touch. His tail whips back and forth in the air, just barely visible from where you lay. And even if it weren't, you can hear the whoosh of air caught in his fur.

"Y-You don't have to worry about me," you try telling him. You thumb at the inside of his ear at the pink skin that lines the inside. "You need this. You can have it. Take what you need, my love."

Red eyes meet yours. His tongue draws in as his lips draw back and his snout scrunches in a grimace. He shakes his head, shaking off your hand. You've never been quite sure whether he fully understands everything you say. It's difficult to tell when he's on his rampages, or even coming down from them as he lays on you. But you've never been more sure than in this moment that he must.

He releases the rug from his grasp to crawl backwards. One returns to it beside your hip. The other's long fingers wrap firmly under your thigh and push it forward to your chest.

Your cunt shines in the light of the bedroom. Glistens with your slick. Its fragrance is so strong in his nose. He can't resist any longer as he drags the flat of his hot tongue up through your slit, gathering it all up. You press the back of your hand to your mouth, trying to tamp down the sounds tearing from your throat. It's a futile endeavor, made only more obvious as he repeats it.

You taste like the sweetest ambrosia. You taste ready. Your taste withers his resolve so quickly as his cock is freed from its sheath. It's long and large, larger even than Sylus's normal dick. Pink and veiny and twitching as precum dribbles from the tip to stain the rug.

He can't bear it anymore. Claws grab at you and flip you over. Your chest and face press down into the ground as he forces your hips up. You're dripping. Shining slick coating your inner thighs. Absolutely soaked for him. Excitement only fuels this further as his thick cock rubs itself through your folds.

He whines above you. The rough pads of his hands press into your shoulders as he holds you down. His hips grind against your ass. The head of his cock notches against your entrance. Then butts against your clit as it slips free. He presses down into you more, growling in his frustration.

You can barely move. Almost completely contained to stay just like this for him. Except for your arms, which can move enough to reach underneath you. Your fingers brush against his dick. The contact is so sudden he pulls back, unsure of what's happening. When he sees it's you, parting your folds for him, he eases back forward once more.

You wrap your hand around him. You can't get your fingers all the way around, he's so thick. You swallow down your fear and guide his tip to your eager cunt. He pushes slowly into you.

You cry out as you feel it: his cock stretching you open bit by bit. It's too much. You can't breathe. You dig your own nails into the rug, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to get through it. You have to. How could you stop now? He needs this. He needs you. You can't just stop.

His hands leave your shoulders. You blink your eyes open to watch as they cover your own hands, fingers aligned between yours, careful not to press down too hard and hurt you. His chest's fur brushes your back. It's almost ticklish. His head lowers to rest beside yours. His breaths are heavy and loud against your ear, but they're not the rapid, panting breaths from before. These are more even. Calmer.

He inches in some more. You gasp, tensing up. His tongue licks your neck. Fingers tighten around yours. Tears prick at your eyes as you attempt to follow his breaths. He makes a soft sound of approval.

Once you've relaxed enough, he rocks in slightly more. More and more. Until his hips are right up against you. His cockhead pressed to your cervix. He's so big. It feels like he's in your stomach, making room for himself. A home for his cock inside his precious mate.

Slowly, he pulls back out, until just the tip remains to keep you open. Glides back in until he's notched up to your cervix again. Each time, it gets easier. Each time, you feel the discomfort less and less, until it's a pleasant stretch, a welcome weight.

Once he speeds up, though, he doesn't slow down.

You have no idea how long it's been. Hours, no doubt. Time slips by in a blur, culminating into a void in your memory, filled only with exhausted pleasure.

Your body is spent: bruised and sore and slick with sweat and cum. It sticks to your stomach, glistens down your thighs, drips and soaks into the rug's fibers. But Sylus isn't done yet. His stamina is hard to keep up with, as is his libido. There's no time between rounds, no pause between his desperate cock fucking into you with reckless abandon. Your cunt quivers and pulses around him, bullied into welcoming him perfectly, over and over again. A ring of white surrounds the base of his cock, shimmering and beautiful, behind the swollen knot that presses up against you with each thrust.

He's so large. While his hips are slotted perfectly to yours, he holds himself above you, his chest in line with your face. His claws dig in beside your head, with your legs thrown over his arms to keep them pressed to your chest. His tongue lolls out as he pants.

You blearily hold onto the fur on his sides, curling your fingers into white hair. You can feel powerful muscle moving underneath, shifting in time with his cockhead butting against your cervix.

With some effort, you manage to lift your head, enough to see his dick pummeling into you. Enough to watch as each thrust reveals a bulge in your belly where his cock reaches into you. You moan at the sight. The way your body accepts him. The way he fits into you.

His knees shift to accommodate him speeding up impossibly faster. He's close - you know it. Your heart rate matches his as you choke just imagining him filling you again. Fuck, you need him to fill you again. Need to be plugged by his knot. Need to feel his cum stuffing you to the brink, only to spill out of you the second he pulls back out.

You let go of his fur to rest your hand over your belly. You can feel his cock moving under your skin. With some added pressure, he whines above you, grunting and growling at the new sensation that caresses his dick.

"Good boy," you whimper out. You clutch tighter at his fur. You whole body shakes with anticipation. "P-Please, ah- please, Sy... Need you... Please..."

He lowers down to his elbows. His weight rests down on you, hips rolling to accommodate himself, carefully keeping from crushing you completely beneath him. His fur rubs against your overheated skin, burning with the same intensity as his primal desires.

Breaths and moans choke up in your throat. You squeeze your eyes shut, press your face into his chest and listen to his erratic heart. So close- so, so close. Tears prick at your eyes. You just- just this one last time. You just need him to fill you. Your sweet werewolf.

You whimper as your cunt squeezes down on him, pulsing with your release and your frantic heartbeat, sending shocks of overstimulation through your body. Sylus whines deep in his chest. His thrusts stutter, slowing down as he presses his knot firmly against your dripping pussy. A gasp tears from your throat as you lift your hips more for him. He pushes into you, stretching your abused cunt around his thick knot. Hot cum spills into you in spurts, hitting right up against your cervix over and over as he gently rocks his hips to drain himself inside of you. His perfect mate.

All you can do is lay there and try to breathe. It's so hard, even after experiencing it all night long. It feels like his dick is so far in, pressing against your lungs, keeping you from breathing easy. It doesn't help that he rests more of his weight on top of you. Sweet sounds of his pleasure slip out, distracting you, grounding you.

Slowly, he pulls his cock out of you. Your combined releases spill onto the rug, staining it with all the other messes you've made tonight. The sun's first rays peek into the room. His body shudders over you. Fur changes into soft skin, shining with sweat. Bones crack and creak until Sylus is pressing his nose into your neck, human once more.

He pants heavily, hot breath fanning across your skin. "Was I... too rough...?" he asks, concerned that his werewolf form may have hurt you while it was out of his control. He hates the thought; an entire night, unable to think rationally enough to stop if he hurt you. It terrifies him. He's just grateful you're still alive beneath him.

You weakly pat his side. He lifts himself up, sitting back on his knees, and helps to stretch out your legs from their cramped position. You shake your head as he does, though your eyes remain closed. Chest still rising and falling to catch your breath. He stops massaging your sore thighs to wipe away the tears staining your cheeks.

"'M okay..." you assure him. You crack your eyes open and attempt a smile. "Jus' sore."

He releases a quiet sigh. He's relieved you feel alright, but looking you over unsettles him. A large ring of teeth imprints around your breast. Other nips and bites across your shoulders, with one very prominent one on your neck, claiming you as his mate. Bruises form along your shoulders, too, as well as your hips, thighs, and arms. There's no scratches that he can see, but damage has been done.

Perhaps you can see the discomfort on his face. Or maybe you just know him so well to know where his thoughts would lead. Either way, he's brought back to the present when your hands take his face. Your thumbs brush away the sweat with the utmost fondness. You smile wistfully, your head light with bliss.

"You were so sweet..." you hum.

He blinks at you with a raised eyebrow. "Sweet? Why do you say that, kitten?" He brushes his fingers lightly over the claiming mark. You hiss softly, wincing. He stops touching it immediately. "You look like a chew toy passed around between a pack of rabid dogs."

You huff a laugh, bubbly and airy. You wrap your arms tenderly around his neck, drawing him back down over you to press soft kisses to his lips. Each one is salty from your tears.

"You guided me through it," you whisper. Another kiss. "You held my hands..." This one at the corner of his mouth. Your eyes are closed, guided around his face from pure muscle memory. His watch you, shining with doubt. "And you breathed with me..." The next lands on his cheek. "Until I calmed down..." To his jaw. "So sweet..." His eyes flutter shut. From relief or pleasure, he's not sure, as your lips caress his pulse. "My sweet werewolf..."

He gasps when your teeth grab his skin at the junction of his shoulder. Incisors gently grinding at the flesh. Canines pressing down into him, too dull to break the skin. Once you're satisfied, you pull away to look at your handiwork. A bright purple-red bruise blooms on his tan skin, mirroring the mark on your own neck.

"There," you say. "Now you're mine."

He chuckles breathlessly. His arms curl underneath you, wrap you up in a strong embrace as he drops his head to rest beside yours. "I was always yours, sweetheart."

You hum, hugging him close in return, even as the exhaustion of staying awake all night in the throes of passion begin stealing the strength from your arms. "And I'm yours..."

He hums in return. "My mate."

He feels the way those words make your heart skip in your chest with giddy joy. You nuzzle your nose just under the line of his jaw. "Your mate is tired..."

"I know," he chuckles. "You can rest now, my love. I'll take care of you."

"Mmm... gonna need a new rug..."

"Shhh." He kisses your cheek. "Go to sleep."

You mumble something, too incoherent to make out. But their meaning isn't lost, as your body relaxes in his arms, succumbing to the exhaustion in your body:

I love you, puppy.

And as he carefully lifts you from the floor and carries you to the bathroom to clean you off and treat your bites and bruises, he whispers his response against your head:

"I love you, sweetheart."

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry @that-lost-one @always-just-red @22carolina08 @lunaizhere @sine-nomine0 @beautifulthingsiadore @lalaluch @burningtrashgentleman @nothankyew @terriblesoup @jeleryyy @leiakitty

#fanfic #fanfiction #sylus #sylus x reader #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #lads #lads x reader #lnds #lnds x reader #fem reader #x fem reader #female reader #x female reader #smut

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xomakara · 6 months ago

Text

Love Like This

SUMMARY | You recently moved into this very nice neighborhood with your dog, Goober. When Yeosang and his daughter introduce themselves to you, his daughter falls in love with Goober right away. As you spend more time with your neighbors, you realize that you have fallen in love.

PAIRINGS | Yeosang x Reader

RATING | Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+, Any Minors and Ageless Blogs will be blocked

GENRE | smut, fluff, Dad!Yeosang, dogmom!Reader, non-idol au

CONTENT/WARNINGS | unprotected sex (wrap it up ya’ll!), oral sex (male giving/female receiving), fingering, slight dirty talk, praise kink, vaginal penetration, lovemaking

LENGTH | 6,629 words

TAGLIST | ---

NETWORKS | @illusionnet @cromernet @k-vanity @ksmutsociety @othersideoutlawsnetwork

AUTHOR’S NOTE | Back with another fic for the Dadteez series. As always, you'll see some recurring characters haha. This is much more on the sensual and lovemaking side of things but I hope you all enjoy it. Love you ❤️

ATEEZ Main Masterlist

The doorbell rang, and your heart skipped a beat. Who could it be? You weren’t expecting anyone, but the sound of tiny footsteps and muffled giggles outside made you pause. You glanced toward Goober, sprawled out on the living room floor, his massive frame taking up more space than he probably should. His head perked up at the noise, ears twitching as if sensing something was about to happen.

“Stay, boy,” you whispered, grabbing his leash just in case. He whined softly, tail thumping against the floor, clearly eager to investigate.

You opened the door cautiously, and there they were—your new neighbors. A man stood tall, with a warm smile that seemed to light up the porch, and a little girl clinging to his hand, her eyes wide with curiosity. The man introduced himself first, his voice calm and friendly. “Hi, I’m Yeosang, and this is my daughter, Yeonwoo. We’re your neighbors next door. Thought we’d stop by and say hello and welcome you to the neighborhood.”

Yeonwoo peeked out from behind her dad, her round cheeks puffing slightly as she smiled. Her gaze darted past you, locking onto something inside your house. You followed her line of sight and saw Goober, who had decided now was the perfect time to lumber over, his big paws making soft thuds on the wooden floor. His tail wagged slowly at first, then picked up speed as he approached the door.

Yeosang’s expression tightened for a split second, clearly wary of the giant Doberman. But Yeonwoo? She didn’t even hesitate.

“Doggy!” she squealed, pulling free from her dad’s grip and darting forward, her little hands outstretched.

“Wait!” you called out, reaching for her instinctively. “He’s… uh, he’s friendly, but—”

But she wasn’t listening. She was already kneeling in front of Goober, her tiny fingers landing gently on his broad chest. The dog froze for a moment, his dark eyes blinking down at her curiously, then let out a soft huff as his tail starts wagging again, this time like a metronome gone wild.

“Good doggy,” Yeonwoo cooed, patting his fur with all the confidence of someone who had never met a dog they didn’t love.

Goober, ever the people-pleaser, leaned into her touch, his tongue lolling out happily. You couldn’t help but laugh, relief flooding through you. Yeosang, however, looked equal parts amazed and horrified.

“I’m so sorry,” he said quickly, stepping forward to scoop Yeonwoo up. “She doesn’t usually… well, she’s fearless around animals.”

“It’s fine,” you assured him, leaning down to scratch Goober behind the ears. “He’s a big softie at heart. Just looks intimidating.”

Yeosang hesitated, glancing between you and Goober, his brow furrowing slightly. “Yeah, well… he is intimidating. Most dogs his size wouldn’t take too kindly to someone running up to them like that.”

You straightened up, meeting his gaze. “You’re right. I should’ve been more careful.”

Your tone was apologetic, but Yeosang’s attention seemed torn between you and his daughter, who was now trying to squirm her way back to Goober. “It’s okay. No harm done.”

“Daddy, let me down!” she protested, wriggling in his arms. “I wanna play with him!”

“Yeonwoo,” Yeosang said firmly, though his voice softened when he looked down at her. “We don’t just go running up to dogs we don’t know. It’s dangerous.”

Her bottom lip pouted out, and you felt a pang of sympathy.

“Actually,” you said, reaching for Goober’s leash, “he loves kids. And since Yeonwoo’s not afraid of him, maybe we could give it a shot? Safely, of course.”

Yeosang’s eyes narrowed slightly, studying you. There was something in his expression—a mix of caution and interest like he was weighing the pros and cons of letting his guard down. Finally, he sighed, setting Yeonwoo on the ground but keeping a firm hold on her shoulder. “Fine. But if he so much as growls, we’re out of here.”

“Deal,” you nodded, giving him your best reassuring smile. Then, turning to Yeonwoo, you knelt down so you were at eye level with her. “Okay, sweetie, you can pet him, but only if your daddy says it’s okay, alright?”

She nodded eagerly, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Okay!”

You guided Goober closer, making sure he stayed calm as Yeonwoo reached out again. This time, she kept her movements slow and deliberate, earning a gentle nudge from Goober as if to say ‘Finally, some manners’. Yeosang watched the interaction closely, his body tense but his expression softening as he realized how harmless it was.

“See?” you said, looking up at him. “He’s all bark and no bite.”

“Yeah, well, I think the bark alone could scare off half the neighborhood,” Yeosang chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. “I’ve never seen a dog this big except for my friend Jongho’s malamute. He has five energetic kids and you can’t say no to them when they ask for a dog.”

There was a pause, the kind that felt charged with unspoken words. You stood up, brushing off your jeans, and realized just how close you were standing to each other. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The air between you felt thick, almost electric as if the universe itself was nudging you both closer together.

Was he feeling it too?

Yeonwoo’s voice broke the tension. “Can we keep him, Daddy? Please?”

“Not quite how it works, kiddo,” he laughed, ruffling her hair. “Goober belongs to…” He trailed off, glancing at you.

“Me,” you finished for him, offering your hand. “I’m Y/N.”

He took your hand, his grip firm and warm. “Nice to meet you.”

As you shook hands, you couldn’t help but notice how his fingers lingered against yours, just for a fraction longer than necessary. His gaze flicked up to meet yours again, and there it was—that same spark, that same pull.

“So,” he said, his voice low enough that Yeonwoo wouldn’t hear, “care to tell me why a woman living alone with a dog this size isn’t single-handedly terrifying the entire neighborhood?”

You bit back a grin, leaning in just enough so he could hear you. “Maybe because I’m not as scary as he is?”

His lips twitched, a hint of a smirk forming. “Maybe. Or maybe you’re just good at hiding it.”

There was something in his tone—something playful, something challenging. And before you could respond, Yeonwoo tugged on his sleeve. “Daddy, can we come back later and see Goober again? Pleeease?”

Yeosang glanced down at her, then back at you, that smirk still lingering. “Depends. Do you think your dog would mind some company tomorrow?”

You felt your heartbeat quicken, the question hanging in the air like an invitation. “I think Goober would love that.”

Yeosang nodded, his eyes holding yours for a moment longer than they should have. “Then we’ll see you tomorrow.”

As they walked away, Yeonwoo waving wildly, you couldn’t help but replay the interaction in your mind. There was something about Yeosang—his protectiveness, his humor, the way he seemed to balance authority with warmth. And then there was that look, the one that had passed between you, brief but unmistakable.

Goober nudged your hand, drawing you back to the present. You scratched his ear, smiling. “Looks like we’ve got company tomorrow, buddy.”

He barked once, as if in agreement, and you felt a thrill run through you. Something was stirring between you and Yeosang, something undeniable. And you couldn’t wait to see where it led.

What a great way to start a new life in a new neighborhood.

A few weeks later, the neighborhood buzzed with excitement. Hongjoong, the grill master, had announced a spontaneous barbecue, and the scent of sizzling sausages wafted through the air, mingling with laughter and chatter. You stood at the edge of your yard, Goober by your side, watching as neighbors gathered around the makeshift grill setup in the park across the street.

Yeosang and Yeonwoo were already there, their presence drawing attention. Yeonwoo was running around with Hongjoong’s kids, Hyejin and Hongki, their laughter echoing like music. Yeosang stood nearby, chatting with Hongjoong, his voice carrying easily over the park. His eyes met yours briefly, and you felt that familiar spark, a subtle warmth pooling in your chest.

“Hi Miss Y/N!” Haru, San’s son, called out, his shy smile breaking into a grin as he approached you. “Can Goober play with us?”

You glanced down at your massive Doberman, who wagged his tail eagerly. “I think he’d love that. Just keep an eye on him, okay? He might get a little too excited.”

He nodded vigorously, and before you could say more, he was leading Goober toward the cluster of kids. The children squealed in delight as Goober bounded over, his enthusiasm infectious. Even one of Jongho’s sons, Jongsoo, usually so quiet, couldn’t resist reaching out to pet him.

As you watched them play, Yeosang joined you, his presence grounding yet electric.

“Looks like Goober’s the star of the show,” he remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

You smirked. “He’s got a knack for that. Kids seem to adore him.”

Yeosang’s gaze lingered on you, something unspoken passing between you. “You’re good with them,” he said quietly. “With him.”

Good with him. The words sent a shiver down your spine, knowing he wasn’t just referring to Goober. You turned to face him, your breath catching slightly at the intensity in his brown eyes.

“Someone has to be,” you replied, your tone light but your heart pounding.

Before either of you could say more, a loud crash interrupted the moment. Everyone turned to see Goober standing near the drinks cooler, which now lay on its side, ice and cans spilling everywhere.

Haru burst out laughing, pointing at the scene. “Goober did it!”

You groaned, rushing over to assess the damage. Goober looked up at you sheepishly, his tail wagging slowly as if hoping to charm his way out of trouble.

“You big goof,” you muttered, ruffling his ears. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Guess we’ll have to team up to fix this,” he said, his voice low and teasing. Yeosang knelt beside you, his hands moving efficiently as he helped pick up the scattered cans.

You glanced at him, caught off guard by the heat in his tone. “Teamwork, huh?”

“Always,” he replied, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Especially when it involves cleaning up after a charmingly clumsy dog.”

You laughed, the sound bubbling up naturally. “Fine. But if Goober knocks anything else over, you’re helping me explain it to Hongjoong’s wife.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and inviting. “Deal.”

Together, you worked quickly, gathering the scattered drinks and refilling the cooler. The sun beat down on you, and you found yourself glancing at Yeosang often, admiring the way his muscles flexed as he moved. There was something about the way he carried himself—quiet strength tempered by a surprising tenderness. It was captivating, and you felt a pull toward him that was impossible to ignore.

When the last can was in place, Yeosang straightened, wiping his hands on his jeans.

“All set,” he said, turning to you. His eyes held yours, the space between you suddenly charged with tension.

“Thanks,” you murmured, your voice softer than intended. He took a step closer, his proximity sending your pulse racing.

“Anytime,” he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. Anytime. The word echoed in your mind, fueling the fire that had been smoldering since your first encounter.

Before you could respond, Yeonwoo came running up, tugging on Yeosang’s hand. “Daddy, can we go on the swings? Please?”

He smiled down at her, the transformation immediate and disarming. “Of course, sweetheart. Let’s go.”

As they walked away, Yeonwoo holding his hand and swinging it happily, you watched them, a smile tugging at your lips. Yeosang glanced back at you once, his expression unreadable, but the weight of his gaze lingered, heavy and undeniable.

Goober nudged your hand, drawing you back to the present. You scratched his ear, your thoughts still on Yeosang. “Looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us, buddy.”

He barked once, as if in agreement, and you felt a thrill run through you. Something was stirring between you and Yeosang, something undeniable. And you couldn’t wait to see where it led.

Later, as the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the neighborhood, you found yourself sitting by the grill, a plate of food in your hands. Yeosang sat beside you, the two of you sharing an easy conversation. The faint hum of music played in the background, and the sound of children laughing filled the air.

“You know,” Yeosang said, his voice soft, “I haven’t felt this... comfortable in a long time.”

You glanced at him, surprised by his candor. “Really?”

“It’s been just me and Yeonwoo for a while. It’s nice to feel like... part of something again. Thank you,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. He nodded, his gaze focused on the flickering flames of the grill. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away. The air between you crackled with potential, with the promise of something more.

You smiled, a warmth spreading through you. “Anytime.”

As the night deepened, the atmosphere shifted subtly, growing more intimate. The other neighbors began to drift away, leaving you and Yeosang alone by the dying embers of the grill. Yeonwoo was asleep in her stroller, her tiny breaths steady and peaceful.

“This has been... nice,” he said, his voice low and rough. Yeosang leaned back, his arm brushing yours.

“Yeah,” you agreed softly. You turned to him, your heart pounding. “It has.”

A few days later, as the sun dipped below the horizon and painted the sky in hues of orange and purple, you found yourself standing at the doorway of Yeosang’s house. He had invited you over for dinner and you agreed. Your heart was pounding, a mix of anticipation and curiosity swirling within you. The last time you’d been here, it had been casual, neighborly. Tonight felt different, charged with an undercurrent of something far more intimate.

Yeosang opened the door with a smile that made your knees weak. His eyes were warm, and inviting, and there was a playful glint in them that sent a shiver down your spine.

“You came,” he said simply, stepping aside to let you in. His voice was low, almost husky, and it sent a thrill through you.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light even as your stomach fluttered. “Where’s Yeonwoo?”

“She’s at a sleepover that Hongjoong and his wife is hosting,” Yeosang responded. “All the neighborhood kids went.”

You stepped inside, and the scent of something delicious—spices, garlic, rosemary—filled the air. It was comforting, homey, and yet there was an undeniable air of sophistication to it. Yeosang had outdone himself.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” he said, closing the door behind you. His hand brushed against yours briefly, sending a spark of electricity between you. “Just need to finish plating. Make yourself at home.”

He disappeared into the kitchen, and you took a moment to glance around. The living room was cozy, with soft lighting and a fire crackling in the fireplace. Pictures of Yeonwoo dotted the walls, capturing her in moments of pure joy—running through fields, blowing out birthday candles, clutching Goober in her tiny arms. They were snapshots of a life well-lived, filled with love and laughter. It made your chest ache in the best way.

“Here we go,” Yeosang said, emerging from the kitchen carrying two plates. He set them down on the coffee table in front of the couch, then gestured for you to sit. “I hope you like Italian. I figured it was a safe bet.”

You sat down, your gaze drawn to the plate in front of you. The pasta looked perfect, the sauce glistening, the herbs sprinkled just so.

“It looks amazing,” you said, picking up your fork. “And yeah, Italian’s always a safe bet.”

Yeosang sat beside you, his thigh brushing against yours as he reached for his fork. “Good. I wasn’t sure if I should go fancy or keep it simple. But...well, I wanted tonight to be special.”

Your breath caught at the sincerity in his voice. There was something raw, unguarded, about the way he spoke. It made you want to lean closer, to press your lips to his and see if he tasted as good as the food smelled. Instead, you settled for taking a bite of the pasta. It was rich, flavorful, and utterly delicious.

“Yeosang, this is incredible,” you said, genuinely impressed. “You’ve got skills.”

He chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that made your pulse quicken. “Thanks. Cooking is kind of my therapy. When Yeonwoo was younger, I spent a lot of nights in the kitchen, figuring things out. Got pretty good at it.”

A pang of sympathy hit you. You couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for him, raising a child alone, and navigating the challenges of parenthood without a partner. But somehow, he’d done it. And now, here he was, sitting beside you, looking completely at ease. It was both admirable and incredibly attractive.

As you ate, the conversation flowed effortlessly. He told you stories about Yeonwoo’s antics, the time she’d convinced him to dress up as a pirate for her school play, the night she’d snuck into his room and climbed into bed with him because of a thunderstorm. You laughed, your heart swelling with affection for the little girl who’d already stolen your heart.

“She’s something else,” you said when he finished recounting the story of Yeonwoo convincing him to bake cupcakes for her class. “I can’t believe you went along with all that.”

He grinned, leaning back against the couch. “What can I say? She’s got me wrapped around her little finger. Always has.”

You studied his face as he spoke, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, the faint stubble on his jaw catching the light. There was a vulnerability to him, a softness that he rarely let show. But tonight, he seemed more open, more willing to let his guard down. And you couldn’t help but feel like this was a turning point, a moment where everything could change.

When dinner was over, Yeosang cleared the plates and returned with two glasses of wine. He handed one to you, his fingers brushing against yours again.

“To new beginnings,” he said, raising his glass.

You clink your glass against his, your eyes meeting his over the rim.

“To new beginnings,” you echoed, your voice soft.

The atmosphere shifted subtly after that. The fire crackled in the hearth, the room bathed in golden light, and the tension between you grew thicker, and heavier. Yeosang leaned back against the couch, his arm resting casually along the backrest behind you. You could feel the heat of him, the subtle weight of his presence.

“So,” he said, his voice low, “tell me something I don’t know about you.”

“Something you don’t know?” you repeated, thinking. You shifted slightly, the movement bringing your body closer to his. “Hmm. I guess most people don’t know that I used to take fencing classes when I was a kid.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Fencing? Really?”

You nodded, smiling. “Yeah. My dad thought it would be a good way to build discipline. Turned out I liked it. Even won a few competitions before I quit.”

He studied you, his expression thoughtful. “That explains why you walk like you’ve got a sword strapped to your side.”

“Excuse me?” you said, laughing. “I do not walk like that.”

“No?” he teased, his mouth curving into a sly grin. “Because you carry yourself like someone who knows how to handle herself.”

The compliment sent a warm flush through you, mingling with the wine and the firelight. You didn’t know what to say, so you stayed silent, letting the moment stretch between you. Yeosang’s gaze dropped to your lips, and suddenly the air was thick with unspoken words, unsaid promises.

Without thinking, you turned toward him, your body angled slightly, your knee brushing against his.

“Yeosang,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he stared at you. “Yeah?”

You leaned in, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I think...” you started, then paused, unsure of how to finish the sentence. But before you could figure it out, he moved, closing the distance between you.

His lips met yours, soft at first, hesitant, as though testing the waters. But then you kissed him back, and the hesitation melted away. His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw as his lips moved against yours. The kiss was slow and deliberate, each touch sending waves of desire crashing through you.

You slid your hand up his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. He groaned softly, deepening the kiss, his tongue sweeping against yours in a languid, intoxicating rhythm. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the sensation of each other.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing heavily, your chests rising and falling in sync. Yeosang pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, his voice strained.

“God, you’re incredible,” he muttered, his fingers tracing the curve of your neck. You felt dazed, the kiss lingering on your lips like a memory.

“Yeosang,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. He pulled back, his dark eyes searching yours.

“Do you trust me?” he asked, his voice low, intense.

You hesitated, caught off guard by the question. But then you nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. “Yeah. I do.”

With that, he stood, pulling you to your feet. “Then come with me.”

Yeosang’s grip on your hand was firm, yet gentle, as he led you through the dimly lit hallway of his home. The air between you was charged with an electric tension, every step drawing you closer to the unknown. His house felt different at this hour, quieter, more intimate, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath.

The faint glow of a lamp spilled into the hallway from his bedroom, casting soft shadows that danced across the floor. Every detail seemed intentional, from the neatly folded jacket resting on the chair to the book left open on the nightstand. It was a space that spoke of him, a man who carried himself with quiet strength but also harbored a tenderness that only those closest to him would ever see.

You couldn’t help but feel a shiver of anticipation run down your spine.

“This is me,” he said softly, his deep voice resonating in the stillness. His thumb brushed against the back of your hand in a subtle, reassuring gesture. Without waiting for your response, he pushed the door open wider and stepped inside, pulling you along with him.

The room enveloped you in warmth, the scent of cedar and smoke wrapping around you like a whispered promise. The bed, large and inviting, stood at the center, its crisp linens and plush comforter seeming to beckon you both. Yeosang closed the door behind you, the click of the latch echoing faintly in the quiet room.

For a moment, there was silence. The world outside ceased to exist. It was just the two of you, standing face to face, the space between you narrowing with each passing second.

He lifted his hand, his fingers brushing a strand of hair away from your face. His touch was feather-light, yet it sent a jolt of awareness through you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his eyes tracing your features with an intensity that made your heartbeat quicken.

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his gaze.

“So are you,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“I wasn’t sure how this would go,” he admitted, his voice low. “But being near you… it feels right.”

You nodded, unable to find the words to respond. The truth was, you felt it too. That inexplicable pull, the way he made you feel safe even as your pulse raced with excitement.

Without another word, he stepped closer, his body aligning with yours. The heat of him radiated against your skin, sending shivers cascading down your spine. His hands moved to your shoulders, sliding down your arms before gripping your wrists lightly. It was a tender hold, one that spoke of restraint and care.

“Let me take care of you,” he said, his voice husky now, laced with desire.

You nodded again, unable to resist the magnetic pull of his request.

With slow, deliberate movements, he began to undress you. First, his fingers found the button of your blouse, easing it free with practiced ease. The fabric parted, revealing the delicate lace of your bra beneath. He slid the blouse off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor at your feet.

Next came the clasp of your jeans, his fingers fumbling slightly as the tension between you grew. Once undone, he slowly peeled them down your legs, leaving you in only your panties and bra.

You stood there, exposed and vulnerable under his intense gaze.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Before you could respond, his hands returned to your body, this time skimming over your hips and settling on your waist. His touch was electrifying, sending waves of heat coursing through you.

“Yeosang,” you breathed, your voice trembling.

He didn’t answer, his focus entirely on the task at hand.

His hands moved to the straps of your bra, gently peeling them down your arms until they pooled at your elbows. With a deft motion, he unclasped the garment, letting it fall to the floor. Your heart pounded in your chest as he took a step back, his eyes raking over your naked form.

“You’re so beautiful,” he repeated, his voice barely audible.

Then, without warning, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue pressed against yours, igniting a fire that consumed you whole. You melted against him, your arms wrapping around his neck as his hands roamed over your back, pulling you flush against his hard, defined frame.

The world dissolved into sensation, every nerve ending alive and pulsating with need. His hands moved lower, cupping your ass and lifting you slightly as he deepened the kiss.

You moaned into his mouth, your head spinning with desire.

Suddenly, he pulled back, his breathing ragged.

“Bed,” he growled, his voice commanding yet filled with urgency.

Without hesitation, he picked you up and laid you down on the plush comforter, his body following soon after. His lips found yours again, their kisses frantic now, desperate.

You reached down, fumbling with the button of his jeans. He caught your hand, pinning it above your head.

“Not yet,” he whispered, his voice raw with need.

Instead, his mouth trailed down your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin as his hands roamed over your body. You arched into his touch, your breath hitching as he nipped softly at the curve of your shoulder.

“Yeosang,” you gasped, your thighs trembling with longing.

He shifted his position, his knee nudging between your legs.

“Tell me what you want,” he demanded, his voice hoarse.

You hesitated, your mind reeling.

Before you could answer, he surged forward, his hardness pressing against your core through the thin fabric of your underwear.

Yeosang’s fingers traced the curve of your waist, his touch lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. His gaze dropped to your panties, the thin fabric barely concealing the heat building between your thighs. His breath hitched, and you could feel the tension in his body, a coil ready to snap.

“Let me see you,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. The words were soft, but they carried weight, pulling you deeper into the moment.

You nodded, your throat dry, and lifted your hips slightly as he slid his hand beneath the waistband of your underwear. The fabric caught on your skin for a brief second before it was gone, tossed aside without a thought. Yeosang’s eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, unfiltered and exposed. His fingers brushed against your bare skin, featherlight at first, then more deliberate as he explored the contours of your body.

His breath was hot against your thigh as he leaned closer, his lips ghosting over your flesh. He inhaled deeply as if he could taste you in the air, and his fingers trailed lower, pausing just above the apex of your thighs. You shifted beneath him, your body arching instinctively toward his touch, and he responded with a slow, steady pressure that made your breath catch in your throat.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire. The words seemed to echo in the quiet room, filling the space between you with a raw, pulsating energy.

He pushed your legs apart gently, his hands firm but careful, and settled between them. His fingers toyed with the sensitive skin there, teasing and testing, until you whimpered, lost in the sensation. He looked up at you then, his brown eyes intense, almost predatory, and you felt a shiver run down your spine.

“Do you like that?” he asked, his voice dripping with intent. His fingers pressed harder, circling rhythmically, and you couldn’t stop yourself from moaning softly.

“Yes,” you breathed, your voice barely audible. The word slipped out before you could think, a surrender to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you.

Yeosang smirked, a hint of triumph softening his expression.

“Good,” he said, his tone laced with satisfaction. He bent his head lower, his lips brushing against the inside of your thigh, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. The sensation sent a jolt of electricity through you, pooling low in your stomach.

His tongue flicked out then, tasting you for the first time, and you cried out, gripping the sheets beneath you. His name tumbled from your lips in a breathless plea, but he ignored it, too focused on his task. His tongue moved with precision, tracing patterns against your most intimate flesh, and every flick, every swipe, brought you closer to the edge.

You were shaking now, your body taut with need, and Yeosang knew exactly what you needed. He teased the bundle of nerves with his fingers while his tongue worked its magic, alternating between gentle licks and firmer strokes that sent waves of pleasure crashing over you. Your hips bucked involuntarily, chasing the sensation, and he gripped your thighs to hold you still.

“Yeosang…” you moaned, your voice breaking as the tension coiled tighter and tighter within you.

He glanced up at you, his eyes gleaming with intensity.

“Almost there,” he promised, his voice rough with exertion. He returned his attention to you, his movements growing more urgent, and you felt the walls inside you tighten, preparing to give way.

The pleasure rose higher, cresting like a wave, and with a final, desperate cry, you shattered. Your body convulsed around his fingers, your muscles clenching uncontrollably as the orgasm swept through you. Yeosang didn’t stop, didn’t let up, riding the wave with you until the tremors subsided and you lay spent, gasping for air.

He pulled away slowly, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he watched you. His lips were swollen, stained with your arousal, and his dark hair fell messily across his forehead. You reached out, your fingers threading through the strands, and drew him down for a kiss. It was messy, passionate, and utterly consuming, a reflection of the explosive intimacy you had just shared.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours. He started to strip his clothes, throwing them haphazardly across the room.

“I want to make you feel that way again,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. “But not yet. I have something else in mind.”

You blinked up at him, unsure of what he meant, but before you could ask, he rolled onto his back, tugging you with him. You straddled his hips, your legs trembling slightly as you settled into place. Yeosang’s hands glided up your sides, cupping your breasts, and his thumbs brushed your nipples, sending sparks of sensation rippling outward.

“Tell me what you want,” he repeated, his voice commanding this time. “And this time, don’t hold back.”

You looked down at him, his dark eyes locked onto yours, and felt a surge of boldness.

“I want you inside me,” you said, the words coming out stronger than you expected. “Now.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” he growled, flipping you onto your back once more. He positioned himself between your legs, his hardness pressing against you, and you gasped as he pushed into you with one smooth thrust.

The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect blend of fullness and heat that left you clinging to him for balance. Yeosang paused, giving you a moment to adjust, before pulling out and thrusting back in, his movements deliberate and controlled.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him on, and he obliged, picking up the pace. His thrusts grew deeper, more forceful, each one rocking your body in tandem with his. Your breaths came in short, sharp bursts, merging with his groans as the sound of flesh meeting flesh filled the room.

“Yeosang,” you whispered, your voice broken and pleading. “Don’t stop. Please…”

He drove into you harder, his hands pinning your wrists above your head. “Never,” he growled, his teeth bared in a feral grin. “Not until you’ve had enough.”

Your body tightened around him, signaling the beginnings of another climax, and Yeosang sensed it, pushing you over the edge with brutal efficiency. You screamed his name as pleasure tore through you, your nails digging into his back as he followed shortly after, his release marking the end of your mutual frenzy.

For a moment, there was nothing but stillness, save for the sound of your labored breathing. Yeosang collapsed beside you, his chest heaving, and you turned to face him, your fingers tracing the curve of his jaw.

“Again?” he asked, his voice a teasing challenge.

You leaned in, capturing his lips with yours. “Only if you can keep up.”

The months that followed were a blur of passion, laughter, and quiet moments shared with Yeosang. Each night, you found yourself in his arms, the two of you tangled together in a mess of sheets and promises. But it wasn’t just about the heat between you—it was the way he looked at you, the way his touch made you feel seen and cherished. You loved him, and you wanted Yeonwoo to see that love reflected in both of your eyes.

It was a sunny afternoon when the three of you sat together on the porch. Yeonwoo was sprawled on the floor, her tiny hands happily petting Goober, who lay beside her with his tongue lolling out in pure bliss. Yeosang sat next to you, his arm draped casually around your shoulders as he watched his daughter play. The moment felt perfect like it had been crafted just for you.

“Yeonwoo,” Yeosang began, his voice calm but deliberate. His deep brown eyes shifted from his daughter to you, then back again. “We need to talk to you about something important.”

Yeonwoo paused mid-pet, her wide, innocent eyes lifting to meet her father’s. She blinked, waiting, her stuffed rabbit clutched tightly against her chest.

You took a deep breath, reaching out to squeeze Yeosang’s hand.

“Sweetie,” you said gently, your voice soft but steady. “Your daddy and I… we love each other. We’ve talked about it, and we want to be a family. Together. Just the three of us.”

Yeonwoo’s eyes widened further, her tiny mouth forming an “O” of surprise. For a moment, she didn’t say anything, her gaze darting between you and her father before landing on Goober, who panted happily beside her. Then, with a sudden burst of energy, she scrambled to her feet and threw herself at Goober, hugging the dog tightly.

“That means you’ll stay with us forever, right?” she asked, her voice tinged with excitement. “You’ll be my new mommy? And Goober can be my pet?”

You glanced at Yeosang, your heart swelling at the sincerity in her question. He gave you a small, reassuring smile before nodding. “Yes, sweetheart. That’s exactly what it means.”

Yeonwoo squealed, burying her face in Goober’s fur. The dog, ever the gentle giant, let out a happy bark and wagged his tail furiously, clearly enjoying the attention. You laughed, your cheeks warm with emotion, and Yeosang pulled you closer, pressing a tender kiss to your temple.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his breath brushing against your hair. “For making this easy for her.”

You turned your head slightly, meeting his gaze.

“She’s not the only one who’s happy about this,” you replied, your voice teasing but laced with genuine affection. “I think I’ve wanted this just as much as she has.”

Yeosang’s lips curved into a smug grin, his dark eyes glinting with mischief.

“Oh, really?” he teased, his hand sliding down to rest on your thigh. “Want to prove it?”

Before you could answer, Yeonwoo chimed in, her little voice interrupting the moment. “Daddy, can we go to the park tomorrow? Please? It’s been ages since we played on the swings!”

Yeosang chuckled, ruffling her hair affectionately. “Of course, princess. As long as your new mommy agrees.”

Your cheeks flushed at the title, but you nodded quickly, unable to suppress a smile. “I’d love to. We’ll make it a family outing.”

Yeonwoo clapped her hands, her laughter ringing out like music. “Yay! Goober can come too!”

“Goober would never forgive us if we left him behind,” you agreed, laughing along with her.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over the yard, Yeosang stood up and offered you a hand.

“Come on,” he said, his voice low and inviting. “Let’s take these two inside. They’re going to get cold out here.”

You accepted his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. Yeonwoo grabbed her stuffed rabbit and Goober’s leash, already plotting their evening routine. The four of you walked into the house, the warmth of the day lingering in the air around you.

Once inside, Yeosang led you toward the kitchen, his fingers intertwined with yours.

“Have I told you how amazing you are?” he asked suddenly, his tone serious but his eyes sparkling with amusement.

You raised an eyebrow, leaning into him slightly. “Not recently, no. What brought this on?”

“Just thinking about how lucky I am,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You’ve made me a better man. A better father. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m never letting you go.”

Your breath hitched, your heart skipping a beat at his words.

“Yeosang…” you began, but he silenced you with a finger to your lips.

“Don’t say anything,” he instructed, his voice firm but gentle. “Just let me enjoy the moment.”

You nodded silently, your chest tight with emotion. Yeosang leaned down, capturing your lips in a slow, sweet kiss that sent a jolt of electricity through your body. When he pulled away, his gaze lingered on yours, hot and intense.

“I love you,” he says.

“I love you too,” you respond back, happy that you have a love like this.

#illusionnet #cromernet #kvanity #other side outlaws network #ksmutsociety #ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez stories #ateez fanfics #ateez imagines #ateez smut #ateez yeosang #yeosang #kang yeosang #yeosang smut #yeosang x reader

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hellodaekko · 5 months ago

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DARLIN I LOVE YEWWW!! Headcanons to go with the sketches below! (also this was made bc I needed a ref of their wolf form for a different piece and I got carried away LMFAO)

Pretty strong when they were younger (sketch 1) but they were more focused on strength training than aesthetic so they've got a sleeper build

Loses an alarming amount of weight in their relationship with Quinn. They develop some more muscle definition from it but they're much weaker than they were prior meeting him because of it.

Had a breakdown and went at their hair after their initial confrontation with Quinn-- which is why its so choppy (sketch 2). He liked their hair long and shaggy and it made them feel sick to see their reflection when it was

The stress of being with Quinn and his type of people made them develop gray hairs early. Their wolf form also reflects this with the beginnings of a gray muzzle and significant loss of hair compared to when they first met him.

Alongside that, they quickly become littered in a myriad of different scars. Their ear is torn to shreds, and a good portion of their tail is so badly damaged in a fight that it becomes necrotic and falls off.

The Shaw Pack wears dog tags with the Shaw name on it along with another tag that has their own full names on them. They stop wearing the tag while they're with Quinn, opting for a vial of his blood (a gift from him) but they go back to the old dog tags after their fight/return to Dahlia. It's chipped and the engravings are worn but they refuse to swap it out for a newer one when David offers them one. Their current one is the same one they had when Gabe was still alpha.

They bulk up a bit after they're settled back into the pack. They're still big on mostly strength training but they like the aesthetic of more defined muscles now. Their wolf form reflects this change as well-- becoming noticeably more muscular even through the mountains of fur that grew back now that they're in a better spot nutritionally.

Not embarrassed to shift if they want to be pet. It'll be the middle of a pack meeting and they'll shift and rest their head on Sam's lap for it. The younger members of the pack will join them, much to their parent's chagrin and David actively has to keep himself from getting distracted while he's trying to talk. Thankfully, they don't do it so often that it's an issue, and the pack will just share a hushed laughter and move on.

ERM... das it! OH and the inspo for their wolf design :] for cartoony purposes I'll draw them like shown above but in my minds eye their wolf form looks like this

just a puppy

#artists on tumblr #redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted shaw pack #redacted darlin #redacted tank #redacted audio headcanons #redacted audio fanart #shaw pack #redacted quinn #redacted asmr #redacted sam #redacted sam collins

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flwerangii · 2 months ago

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Sweet 26, Meows and Cuddles

Summary: In which -> Su-bong buys you a present for your birthday , The morning after is pure chaos.

Warnings: SWEET SU-BONG!, fluff

A/N: Guys i wrote this half asleep:( , correct me if there’s any mistake, Im quite obsessed with soft su-bong but I can’t help it!! Let me know your opinions <3

Today is the day.

Your birthday.

Su-bong has been waiting for this day a while now. He always knew how much you adored cats and always wanted one since you were a kid, he also knew that you never got one because of your mother's allergy.

He checked his phone,

11a.m

"Perfect timing" he murmurs to himself, The animal shelter just opened. He has 8 hours till your party, pretty early to wrap up your gift right?

He arrives at the shelter and an orange cat clings onto him like her life depends on it, "I'll take this one please" he says at the woman who works at the shelter.

1:45 p.m

He gets into the car with the cat in the cage and starts saying "Well aren't you so cute? My girl's gonna love ya!" and drives to a nearby store to buy some present wraps, cat food and toys.

He gets home and checks his phone,

He still has plenty of time, He goes to eat and to feed the cat. After feeding the cat he goes to rest.

5 p.m

The alarm clock is ringing like crazy, when he sees the time he jumps out of the couch and heads over to the cat and the wraps

"Moments before disaster" He murmured to himself again. "Ps ps ps pssss" he goes to the cat holding a treat in his hand, the orange cat immediately goes to him and he catches her in his arms. He grabs the wrap and wraps her carefully, after he finishes he grabs a bow and places it on top of her head.

"VOILAAAAA, WHAT A PIECE OF ART" he screams like a maniac and the cat just stares at him and suddenly.

Frshhh the wrap gets torn apart.

"NOO00000000000" he cries, his neighbours probably think he is crazy.

He is attempting his last trick one more time.

Fail.

Again.

Fail

The cat gets so bored in this repeating process she falls asleep."Finally" Su-bong thought and attempted to wrap her and succeeded perfectly.

7:10p.m

Shit, he's late already. He's phone lights up with a message from you

"My girl🌼”: Su-bong where the hell are you? You are late 10 goddamn minutes!!!'

He rushes to get ready, grabs the wrapped sleeping cat and heads to the car

7:30p.m

He knocks at the door, Holding the cat behind him and some roses along with letters that are written with words of affirmation.

You opened the door and say "Finally you arrived after half an hour!!"

He kisses your cheek saying "Close your eyes beautiful."

You close your eyes and feel fur between your fingers.

"Open your eyes" he says, and as you opened you eyes you started screaming from happiness

"SU-BONG ARE YOU CRAAAZY? I LOVE YOU SO SO SO MUCH YOU DONT KNOW HOW MUCH IVE WANTED A CAT!!!!"

He smiles at your happiness and hands you the flowers and letters he hugs you whispering in your ear

"Open those later, unwrap the cat and let her sleep on your bed inside your room"

You do as he says, let the adorable cat sleep in your bed and come up to him saying "Thank you so much I love —-“

He cuts you off by kissing you, reminding you how much he loves you too and the night goes on amazingly.

3.a.m.

Before Su-bong finishes his shower, you read quietly the letters he wrote you, it was the first time he had done something like this , you know he isn’t the best with words, You sob quietly at his sweet words and look at the roses he bought you.

He finishes his shower and heads to bed, you two cuddle , you fall asleep immediately and Su-bong whispers

“I love you”

The sun broke though the curtains, your eyes open .You try to shift but you feel a strong arm secured around your waist , you know it’s Su-bong.But, there is someone else in your arms.. YOUR CATT!! Yess, A cute orange cat with crazy personality that’s matches yours, you named her sunshine cause she makes your day even tho it’s day 1.

Suddenly sunshine climbs over su-bong and starts meowing into his ear. Su-bong sits up and saying something half asleep

“Fucking Cat you’re lucky your mother loves ya”

You burst out laughing holding sunshine in your hands while Su-bong is whining about sunshine ruining his sleep and you reply with “Ok sleeping beauty it won’t happen again please don’t kill my only sunshine”

He looks at you in shock, like you slapped him across the face , with a hand up his chest he starts shouting dramatically “AM I NOTHING!?!?!?!? AM I NOT YOUR SUNSHINE?? GOD RETURN THAT CAT INTO THA SHELTER CAUSE SHE STEALING MY WIFE”.

Sunshine just meows in response

You cry from laughter.

You love your two crazy favourite things.

#choi su bong #thanos squid game #squid game s2 #squid game #thanos x reader #choi su bong x reader #fluff #fanfic writing #squid game x reader

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morverenmaybewrites · 10 months ago

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The Pizza Delivery Girl's Survival Guide to Gotham City Update

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Newest chapter

AO3 Link

Summary:

People who lived outside of Gotham City would most often think of it in terms of its heroes and villains. About Batman and Robin, Joker and Harley Quinn.

People who actually live in Gotham City would only think of one thing: surviving.

Who cares about the people in costumes when your house has been bombed for the fifth time, or your wife has been taken hostage just because she worked in a bank?

Or, in your case, when you have to make regular deliveries to places where even Batman feared to tread?

Because let's face it. In a world full of superheroes and costumed villains, the real heroes are the ones who make sure that people get their pizzas in forty-five minutes or less.

Chapter Preview:

You paused on the bridge that hung high above the Burrow, and for the first time in your life, you felt a terror was so great that it made your throat close.

Gotham City had never looked so beautiful. From such a height, the burning neon lights looked like stars.

But above your head, the sky looked pitch black. It made you think of the bodies that would sometimes wash up on Gotham Bay’s shores, black and bloated with rot. It made you think of the shadows of inmates in the asylum, their voices like the skittering of insects, rising and falling as you passed them by.

It made you think of the night Timothy Young died, and you wondered that if, back then, there had been light enough that he saw the shadow of a monster fall over him.

You wondered if he had time to understand what was happening, before he started against the concrete below. And then decided decided that it didn’t matter: you would understand If Francine Langstrom came for you, you would know.

You would understand what was happening to you before you hit the ground.

Your skull splitting open, the pink-grey ropes of your brain scattering on the concrete. And the thousand pictures that follow. Your death turned into a spectacle and a profit.

Just like Tim Young’s.

The thought made you freeze. You were standing in front of one of the many wooden bridges that connected the rooftops of abandoned buildings. The Burrow’s infamous floating night market. Set up by dusk and torn down by dawn, only to rise up again the next night, the floating night market was one of the Burrow’s main attractions. A bustling collection of kiosks made out of cheap plywood and tarpaulin, it was said that you could find anything there, so long as you didn’t ask too many questions: cheap phones, likely stolen from someone off the street, fake licenses, a sample of Bane’s Venom for impatient bodybuilders. It was set high up in the air, amidst the rooftops of many abandoned buildings, connected by a series of rickety wooden bridges.

But now the rooftops were empty. The bridges were falling apart, its wooden planks dangling precariously from their ropes. The empty kiosks had been left to rot in the constant rain. You could even see some of the abandoned merchandise, left behind in people’s haste to pack up: an old, broken phone, children’s toys hanging forlornly on strings, obviously meant to be prizes in a game, now swelling with rainwater. Mold grew on their cotton bodies like new fur.

Timothy Young’s death had transformed the Burrows’ floating night market into a ghost town. The thought made you feel a little lonely, picking through the bones of a dead market, looking to find a monster.

Francine, The voice in your head sounded like Professor Langstrom’s. Her name is Francine Langstrom.

The buzz of static cut through your thoughts as cleanly as a falling blade. And then Jason’s voice was in your ear.

“Last chance to back out of this.”

His voice was rough, even taking into account the poor connection and the voice modulators he used. Maybe he was scared, too. The thought eased you somewhat, to know that you were not alone.

Even through the poor connection, you could hear the strain in his voice. You cast a glance at the direction where he was supposed to be, tried to look for even a hint of him: the faint glow of his helmet, the hulking figure of his silhouette. But you found no sign of him. Still, knowing that he was there made you feel better.

You raised a hand and hoped that he would not see the way your fingers trembled.

And waved.

Read more on AO3

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #dc x reader #jason todd #red hood #arkham knight #the pizza delivery girl's survival guide to gotham city

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just-randie · 1 month ago

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great gatsby main cast but i attempt to draw them in lackadaisy artstyle

had load of fun working on these and i’m quite happy with how it turned out <3

design notes under cut!! (i wrote these at 1 am)

Myrtle

- i wanted her to have this bright, palette that would grab one’s attention.

- based her on the 1974 movie Myrtle and while i haven’t seen it (yet) i did like her fit there better in terms of adapting it for character design. it seemed to have more personality.

- some dress layers to show how she tries to be high class. layers = this illusion. but yk inequality and all, so it’s still just a dress and not much has changed

- curling fur/hair for that energetic and a bit femme-fatal feel to her

- even made her whiskers curly to convey that better

- chose a calico cat since it adds to the palette i was aiming for while providing a new colour + calico cats are stereotyped to be quite sassy so yeah

- rounded by narrowed eyes + blue eye shadow => link to Daisy with her round blue eyes. Myrtle wanted Tom to choose her.

- shortest character btw

George

- Tabby which links him to Tom’s design (Myrtle has a type lol)

- expanding on point above, i really wanted the viewer to think that if you had placed him in a fancy suit he’d probably be better than Tom, but alas capitalism and inequality

- anyway, his fit is based on the 2013 film one. really wanted that contrast between the light shirt and the brown fur, so that the blue (fuck idk how this piece of cloth is in english fucckkkk) wouldn’t blend with the brown tone-wise.

- + blue kinda compliments the brown, so we have some hue contrast going on

- oh yeah, he gets more colour than Tom because fuck Tom

- ruffled, messy fur cuz he actually has work to do (unlike others) + scar on nose from work as well as the plaster on arm(/paw?)

- tallest character!

Tom

- fuck this man. i took all of his colours and made him pretty desaturated! why? hes a pretentious guy who thinks that high class will absolve him of his wrongdoings. a very bland belief hence he gets no colours >:(

- liked the mustache from the 1974 film, so here it is! whisker follow direction of mustache to emphasize it

- very orange eyes to emphasize the potential for his outbursts + they’re sharp cuz that mf is finding out stuff on Jay

- also groomed spiky fur for same reasons as above

- ring on right paw!

- made him an american short hair cuz ik he’d kill himself if he was anything else /j

Daisy

- i wonder where the green colour palette came from 👀 (green light. shocker!)

- was contemplating whether to give her that fur on her shoulders but since i saw that insane picture of a ragdoll cat that screamed Daisy I NEEDED TO KEEP THE FLUFF OKAY????

- based on 2013 movie (i really liked the head piece)

- throw in some tint of yellow at the bottom of the dress for that link with death symbolism <3

- round(ed) forms of fur + eyes cuz she appears innocent and wants to be seen that way!! the “i hope she’ll be a fool” thing” iykyk

- dress not layered at all like say Myrtle, even tho it has a pattern. she appears as she is: a high class, rich girl. she’s not hiding it. (painfully obvious even tho Jay falls for it)

- red necklace = bright colour = link to Tom’s bright orange eyes. they’re married and have had spent time together that can’t be undone.

- ring on right paw!

Jay

- the classic pink suit seen in so many mediums and media

- rounded diamond like eyes cuz yk while he’s this gentleman, the narrowed eyes do imply that he’s being sneaky about something (oh got his past)

- linking to trying to hide things: high collar!

- torn ear + scar on paw + twisted whiskers from war. (i will forever be annoying about how S. Fitzgerald missed this topic COMPLETELY if not outright wrongly represented it through like one line)

- kinda the 2013 based (i didn’t like the hair being like gelled backwards/neatly styled so here it’s more wavy like that)

- joined fur => tried to imply that softness it would have to show that this guy’s pretty naïve with his obsession over his dream

- taller than Tom (important)

- didn’t give him any specific cat breed but i was looking at a bunch of fawn colored cats for this one. the pictures ranged from elegant to silly, so that, i thought, is fitting

Nick

- what if i told you he’s the second shortest here? (SHORT KING!!!!!)

- but to elaborate this guy has been witnessing everything in the book, so idk short height implies the sneakiness

- the idea for clothing: i kinda borrowed from that wiki page pic on him with the still from 1923 movie. I reallyyyyy liked the hat and the implied light palette of the suit

- speaking of palettes, a tint of green because i’m funny like that

- but also cuz it went well with the palette for the fur i established prior

- the fur thing was crazy to think of. first i thought that he might have some burmese cat energy but then i started on that colour and didn’t like it, so it kinda morphed into my cat’s fur colour but lighter (my cat is my pfp). and yk what? this process makes sense since i believe we don’t get anything at all on his appearance from the book.

- anyway rounded face cuz he tries to appear like unbiased hence tries to look pleasant

- but messy tail tip and pointy ears cuz he does have that bias

- scar + torn ear on brow from war (again, i’m annoyed with Fitzgerald)

- only one to have GREEN eyes cuz i’m funny like that (Jay, this is the only green thing you should be losing yourself in)

- bow tie instead of a tie, to give him that distinction as a narrator

Jordan

- siamese cat. i always associated her with a siamese cat

- big/long ears for the fact that she’s very aware of what’s happening in her surroundings! + narrowed eyes since she’s suspicious of ppl (like Jay) + perked up whiskers as she’s paying attention

- gets gold/yellow elements for that entire metaphor she made about being a bad driver (i would explain my interpretation of this metaphor but these are design notes)

- kind of layered dress. she is quite honest yet she doesn’t fully disclose things. she knows her way around this society

- zig zag tail. again, knows how to maneuver herself in this society, which gives her the independence she has

- blue palette of dress stands out against warmer tones of fur; suggestion of this being something that she barely wears on day-to-day basis

#so uhhh remember when i mentioned doing a 12h project?#yeah this is another one #this was like the most spontaneous project i decided to do #the great gatsby #jay gatsby #nick carraway #tom buchanan #daisy buchanan #jordan baker #myrtle wilson #george wilson #digital art #lackadaisy #character design #fanart

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qwimblenorrisstan · 8 months ago

Text

Bloody Cuddles | Cassian x Reader

Day 16: No one else to Turn to w/ Cassian

Summary: Cassian has no where else to go except to you when he shows up at your door in the middle of the night, beaten and bloodied.

Word Count: ~1.2k

Warnings: blood, bruises, mentions of swords, stitches, partially naked man, cuddling

A/N: honestly idk what’s happening in this one, hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

It was past midnight when he showed up.

You’d already changed into a t-shirt and shorts, sleeping clothes in your opinion, dishes, and laundry done and put up, stomach full of what you’d had for dinner, house warm and cozy, fending off the chill of Autumn Court that tended to roll in during the night. Your magic usually helped keep you warm, anyway.

You’d been just about to crawl into bed when a heavy knock on your door sounded, your dog jolting to his feet, slim ears perked up as he let out a low growl.

“Quiet,”

You murmured, hand smoothing over his short, silky fur, trying to soothe him as you walked over to the door, opening it half an inch and peeking out, trying to slam it shut when you saw who it was.

His gloved hand, bloodied gloved hand, slid between the crack, not letting the door shut. He didn’t even grunt when it slammed down on his palm, siphon not flickering a bit as it was also squished between the wooden door and doorframe.

Your dog growled, clearly not happy with the Illyrian behind the door, or the way your scent soured.

Just as you were about to hiss out for him to leave, he spoke.

“Look, I don't want to be here, I just don’t have anywhere else to go. One night. That’s all I'm asking for.”

Something in his voice struck a chord in you. Maybe it was the gravelly tone carrying the weight of exhaustion and something else, something further, or maybe it was just the way he wasn’t teasing or prodding you like usual. Still, you would have fun with this.

“Why? Did your precious Inner Circle finally grow bored of you?”

You taunted, waiting for the usual snapback, expecting him to at least try to insult you or your family. Anything, really, other than the heavy sigh you heard from the other side of the door.

“I fucked up. Bad.”

His voice was rough with emotion, growing thicker with each word. He sounded vaguely like he was about to cry.

You glanced down at your dog. He’d stopped growling. You and the animal shared a long glance before he huffed and walked off to curl up in his bed. He’d made up his mind, you supposed.

You opened the door, and there he was.

He was still in his fighting leathers, looking torn up. Forming bruises coated his body, some turning purple and yellow, a few even green, while blood coated his knuckles and drooped from his nose, eyes bloodshot and flickering from exhaustion. Every breath sounded wheezy and more like he was about to heave.

His eyes looked vacant.

You scowled, but the little gleam of worry in your eye was unmistakable as you stepped back, letting him in. As soon as he was in, he walked over to the kitchen and collapsed into a chair, looking like he was about to fall asleep.

“Oh, no you don’t. You’re getting blood all over my kitchen.”

You hissed, and he gave you a flat look.

“I don’t care.”

He replied, and you huffed, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him over to the bathroom, except for the fact that he refused to move, simply sitting in the chair while you pulled your hardest. After a few moments of watching you, he finally took mercy on you, getting up and stumbling over to your small bathroom, collapsing onto the toilet.

You pulled out a little emergency first-aid kit from under the sink that hadn’t been used in at least a century, popping it open, before grabbing a towel from the cabinet and wetting it, raising a brow at Cassian while he sat motionless on the toilet seat.

“What?”

He asked, and you gave him a look that was questioning his intelligence.

“To clean your injuries, I’m going to need to see them.”

You spoke slowly as if talking to a small child, and he exhaled through his nose, clearly annoyed, but he shifted and pulled his shirt off regardless, pants following, leaving him in just a pair of boxers.

You tried not to let your gaze wander as you pressed the damp section of the towel to a large slice across his abdomen, one that would probably require stitches, even with his Illyrian healing. It was a wound from a sword, clearly.

“Who’d you piss off to get this?”

You asked, keeping your tone purposefully detached, almost bored. He only grunted, probably in discomfort, as you padded the blood away.

“Rhys.”

He eventually admitted, and you let out a snort at that, placing the towel aside and picking up the needle and thread from the first-aid kit, threading the eye of the needle while replying.

“I’m guessing you did something to Feyre?”

He stiffened slightly as you let the needle puncture his skin, beginning the stitches, but didn’t reply. It seemed he was done talking about it. You would probably just pester him more in the morning when he was in a better mood and get it all out of him then, anyway.

A few quiet minutes later, and the stitching was done, the bloody towel being thrown into the bathtub as you closed the kit, putting it back under the sink where it stayed.

He went to grab his leathers, presumably to put them back on, when you shook your head, swatting the clothing out of his hands into the bathtub as well. It could be washed later. Not now, when it was too late into the night anyway.

“You can sleep in the guest bedroom.”

You said blandly, walking over to your bedroom, not bothering to give him any directions as you slid into your bed, pulling the cold blankets over you, palms warming with a spark of magic as the room’s temperature increased within mere moments.

You closed your eyes and were out like a light.

It must’ve been hours later when you woke up, the sun still not peeking out from your blinds, the night sky still twinkling.

You tried to turn, the spot where your head was laid a bit too warm for your taste, only to realize that you couldn’t move. Mainly because of a pair of warm arms wrapped around you. And the owner of those arms dozing off while wrapped around you, limbs entangled.

You huffed in annoyance, trying to push him off, only for him to grumble and let out a sleepy grunt.

“Get off-!”

You half whispered, half yelled, and he grunted again.

“G’ back to sleep.”

He mumbled, eyes screwing shut until his body relaxed again, and he was out like a light.

And so you were stuck with a big Illyrian oaf cuddling you in the middle of the night.

As you sighed, slowly settling and drifting back off to sleep, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t so bad.

Tags:

@hawke1917

@angstober

@fourthwing4ever

#writers on tumblr #acotar fanfiction #acotar fandom #acotar x reader #acotar fluff #cassian x you #cassian x y/n #cassian x reader #cassian acotar #Cassian angst #angst to comfort #angstober 2024 #angstober

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purrfectkarma · 2 days ago

Text

✦ POWER AND CONTROL ✦

PAIRING — shadow the hedgehog x fem!reader

WARNINGS — MDNI 🔞

PROMPT — you tease him, ride him, and think you’ve won… until he flips you over and shows you who’s really in charge

WORD COUNT — ~3.5k

ART CREDIT — @ cutefish_16y on Instagram

AUTHOR’S NOTE — this was supposed to be a “little teasing moment” and instead it turned into couch-breaking smut + battle for control energy. I imagine mobian or human reader works, as long as she knows how to drive him wild.

🖤🔥 “You act like you’re in charge.”

“You just think you are.”

and that’s how the skirt came off.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

⛓️

You were in one of G.U.N’s remote safehouses, tucked away after a mission that left your adrenaline still humming. The lights were low, casting golden shadows on the walls as you perched on the arm of the couch, legs crossed in your short skirt, a half-read mission report resting in your lap. You hadn't even changed yet—your skirt clung to your thighs, scuffed boots still laced, and your shirt slightly untucked from the chaos earlier.

You flipped a page absentmindedly—until you heard the door creak open.

Shadow stepped in, his silhouette cutting sharply through the dim light. His chest was still rising and falling from the fight, a few strands of fur singed, gloves torn, and eyes glowing faintly beneath his furrowed brow. He looked like a storm held barely in check.

You glanced up, a smirk tugging at your lips.

“Didn’t take you for the dramatic type,” you teased, eyes skimming his form. “You just had to flip over the explosion like that?”

He smirked back, walking slowly toward you.

“Admit it. You liked it.”

You rolled your eyes. “Maybe a little.”

He stopped just in front of you, close enough that you had to tilt your head back to meet his eyes.

“You’re always watching,” he said, voice low, velvet-wrapped danger. “I can feel it. Every time I’m near you… your heartbeat changes.”

Your cheeks flushed, but you didn’t back down. “That’s because you insist on standing in my space.”

Shadow leaned in, his breath ghosting over your ear.

“Funny. You never move away.”

You didn’t. You couldn’t. His presence was like gravity—pulling you in, heavy and hot. And he knew it.

His gloved fingers brushed your jaw, tilting your chin up gently.

“You’re not afraid of me.”

You met his gaze, steady. “Should I be?”

He chuckled low, rich and intimate.

“Maybe. But I think you like the danger.”

Then he kissed you—slow at first, a test. But the second your lips met his, restraint slipped. His hand tangled into your hair while the other wrapped tightly around your waist, dragging you into him with a need that had clearly been building for far too long.

You broke the kiss, breathless.

“I could get used to this side of you.”

Shadow grinned—real, unguarded, and somehow even more dangerous.

“Good. Because it only comes out for you.”

Still holding you close, his breath warm against your lips, his usual icy control was clearly slipping. You felt it in the tension of his grip, in the hunger darkening his crimson eyes.

You let your fingers trail up his chest, slow and teasing, stopping just under his jaw.

“You act like you’re in charge,” you whispered.

His brow arched. “And I’m not?”

You leaned in, lips brushing his—but not kissing him yet. Close enough to tempt. To test.

“No,” you purred. “You just think you are.”

His eyes darkened, but he didn’t move. He let the heat grow, let the tension simmer, let you think you had the upper hand. That was the thing with Shadow—he didn’t rush. He stalked. He waited. Until he was ready.

You grazed your lips along his jaw, up toward his ear, voice barely a whisper.

“You like it when I push back… don’t deny it.”

In one swift move, his hand caught your wrist, firm but controlled. His face was mere inches from yours, his voice molten steel.

“Careful.”

You smirked. “What? Gonna punish me?”

He didn’t respond. Instead, his lips crashed against yours again, harder now, needier. His restraint dissolved as he pulled you down onto the couch beneath him, your back against the cushions, your legs still hooked around his waist.

His kiss stole the breath from your lungs, and when you gasped, his tongue found yours in a slow, claiming dance. His hand slid down your thigh, fingers grazing the edge of your skirt as he pressed himself closer, your bodies flushed and burning.

You broke the kiss with a soft gasp, your voice breathy.

“Still think you’re in charge?”

His grin was wicked.

“No. I think we both are. That’s what makes this fun.”

You grinned back, lacing your fingers behind his neck as you drew him even closer, wrapping your legs around his hips, grinding slightly just to feel the way he tensed.

“Why not take turns?” you whispered in his ear.

Shadow’s breath caught.

Then, slow and deliberate, he lifted your legs, one hand sliding beneath your skirt to grip your thigh. His other hand hooked around the edge of your panties, dragging them down with excruciating patience, his eyes locked on yours the whole time.

When the soft fabric hit the floor, flung somewhere into the dark, his lips found yours again—slower now, more deliberate. His gloved fingers teased lower, between your thighs, finding the warmth he was craving.

Shadow’s words sent a shiver through you—“You’re so wet”—and you could barely respond, your breath catching as his fingers teased you with slow, confident strokes.

Shadow was watching your every reaction, his eyes half-lidded, glowing with hunger and control.

You shifted slightly under him, your thighs still wrapped around his waist, and that’s when you felt it—him, hard and ready against you.

You let out a low, teasing laugh, your hand slipping between your bodies to cup him.

“And you’re happy to see me.”

He groaned, hips jerking slightly into your touch. Your hand wrapped around him and began to stroke—slow, steady, and purposeful.

He let out a deep, guttural moan that sent heat straight to your core.

“You might be more dangerous than I am,” he growled against your neck, voice rough and reverent. Then, smirking against your skin—

“I love it.”

His lips found your throat, kissing, nipping, and tasting every inch of your skin as he slid the head of his length against your entrance, pausing—just long enough to feel your breath hitch.

Then, slowly, deliberately, he pushed into you, inch by inch.

You gasped, your back arching, nails pressing into his shoulders.

“Shadow…”

He groaned your name like it was something sacred, his hips moving with careful control as he filled you completely, the warmth, the stretch, the sensation of him overwhelming and perfect.

Your bodies moved together in perfect sync, each thrust deepening the fire that was already consuming you both.

Shadow’s breath was ragged now, his grip tight on your waist as he buried himself inside you again and again, each movement laced with unspoken desire and raw intensity.

But then, with a glint of mischief in your eye, you placed your hands on his chest and gave him a light push.

He blinked up at you, momentarily stunned as you eased him back against the couch cushions, your hips lifting just enough to make him slip out.

“My turn,” you said, voice low and dripping with seduction.

Shadow let out a quiet curse under his breath, his eyes locked onto you as you straddled him, taking control with a slow, fluid motion. You gripped his chest, your skirt bunched up at your hips, your bare thighs framing him perfectly.

You hovered just above him, teasing, letting the head of his cock brush your entrance before you began to lower yourself—agonizingly slow.

Your eyes stayed locked on his face, watching the way it contorted in pleasure, the way his lips parted with a quiet, broken sound he didn’t try to hide.

Finally, he was all the way inside you again, and you rolled your hips forward, grounding yourself against him, feeling every inch, every pulse.

You leaned forward, your hands sliding up his chest until your fingers tangled into the thick fur there. You gave it a playful tug, smirking down at him as you began to grind your hips in slow, deliberate circles.

He groaned—deep and raw—his hands flying to your hips to steady you, but not stop you.

“You’re going to drive me insane,” he breathed.

You leaned in, lips brushing his jaw.

“Good. You can lose your mind with me.”

You rolled your hips in slow, delicious circles, grinding against him with purpose, loving the way his breath caught, the way his grip on your waist faltered ever so slightly with each motion. You leaned forward again, lips grazing his, whispering just above them:

“Still think you’re in control?”

That did it.

With a low growl, Shadow’s hands suddenly gripped your thighs. Before you could tease him again, he moved—swift and commanding.

He flipped you over effortlessly, pressing your chest down against the couch cushions, your skirt hiked up, panties long forgotten. His hand gripped your hip firmly as he lifted your ass high into the air, lining himself up behind you.

“Let me show you how much I can lose it,” he snarled.

And with one powerful thrust, he buried himself inside you again, deeper than before. You cried out, arching as he set a punishing pace—each thrust driving into your most sensitive spot with near-perfect precision.

Your fingers dug into the cushions, your body trembling from the intensity. Every movement sent waves of heat crashing through you, your moans spilling freely into the room. Shadow's grip on your hips tightened, his claws just grazing your skin as he growled with each thrust, fully lost in the rhythm of your body, in you.

“So tight,” he rasped, voice thick with need. “So perfect…”

Your eyes fluttered shut, your mouth falling open as pleasure surged through you.

“Shadow—ah—Shadow!”

You could feel yourself spiraling, your climax building fast and hot and uncontrollable. Your walls clenched around him, your whole body tensing as the orgasm overtook you, crashing over you like a tidal wave.

You screamed his name, voice breaking from the intensity.

That was all it took.

With a final deep thrust, Shadow groaned loudly, his hips jerking as he spilled into you, the sensation overwhelming. His body trembled slightly as he held you there, his breath ragged against your back, his grip still tight—like he wasn’t ready to let you go.

The air was thick with heat, both your bodies still tangled and trembling from the intensity of what had just happened. Shadow stayed there for a moment, his chest rising and falling against your back, breath warm against your skin. You could feel his heartbeat still racing through him.

Then, slowly, he pulled back and flopped beside you on the couch, one arm draped across his forehead, the other still loosely wrapped around your waist.

You turned to face him, completely wrecked and grinning.

“So,” you said, breathless, brushing some hair from your face. “That’s you ‘losing it,’ huh?”

Shadow glanced over, lips twitching into a half-smirk.

“You provoked it.”

You nudged his side. “You liked it.”

He let out a soft scoff, closing his eyes. “I tolerated it.”

You laughed. “Right. Is that why you were moaning my name like you forgot how to speak?”

His eyes opened slowly, glowing with that familiar, dangerous gleam. He turned toward you, raising an eyebrow.

“And is that why you were screaming mine like the world was ending?”

You bit your bottom lip, heat rising to your cheeks—but you didn’t back down.

“I was doing you a favor. Boosting your ego.”

Shadow rolled on top of you again, pinning your wrists gently but firmly above your head, his grin now fully formed, dark and amused.

“You think this ego needs help?” he whispered, nose brushing yours.

You arched a brow, pretending to consider it.

“Maybe just a little.”

He kissed you hard—quick and possessive—before pulling back just enough to murmur:

“Careful. I’ve still got energy to prove you wrong.”

You gasped dramatically. “What happened to recovery time?”

Shadow smirked.

“I recover fast.”

Your legs curled around his waist again, playful, daring.

“Then I guess we’re not done yet.”

He growled in delight.

“Not even close.”

#shadow x reader #shadow #shadow the hedgehog #the ultimate life form #x reader #writing #shadow the hedgehog x reader

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dedolubka · 4 months ago

Text

A Song of the Woods and Winds

(Tamlin x OC)

Crazy, I haven't written this story since last october! That's an oversight. Firstly, it's now officially a fanfic, and it has a title. Secondly, thanks @praetorqueenreyna for correcting the errors in this text! ❤️

Warnings: Amarantha. Seriously, this woman is a warning in and of herself.

Enjoy the read!

<<<past | next>>>

The stone walls suffocated him. Despite the efforts of the persistent air spirit who claimed to be his personal servant, Tamlin never slept in his tidy chambers. He rarely slept at all. There weren't enough soldiers from his court to catch and destroy the Hybern soldiers who had banded together and plundered the borders, and he had to help. Tamlin would be lying if he said he did it without pleasure.

In rare moments of peace, he settled under a spreading willow tree in his sacred grove and would fall into a brief slumber. It was here that his mother slept her eternal sleep. If Tamlin could find any emotion other than endless, dull weariness, he would be ashamed to come here, for it would hurt his mother to see her favourite son like this.

But even in her comforting embrace he could find no peace.

Nightmares haunted him constantly. On good days they were blurry, painful images. On bad days he was visited by a woman with black eyes and a black soul.

Red braids, red lips and red nails. Red blood, everywhere, on the floor, on her hands and on his too. Tamlin couldn't even remember how many Spring Court fairies she'd killed for fun. He couldn't remember how many he'd bought the life of with his body. It was always not enough for her, she wanted his heart but couldn't have it - luckily she thought it was her own fault. A heart of stone is incapable of love and desire.

This didn't stop her from torturing him. This didn't stop her from laughing. This didn't stop her from keeping him on a short leash.

This didn't stop her from making him torture his subjects. No wonder they believed Feyre's lies about him so easily - their screams were still ringing in his ears.

"Sir, please!”

"My lord, please don't!

"Spare me!”

"Master, please!”

"Master!”

"Master!"

The last voice was too vivid and real to be an inflamed memory Tamlin's eyes snapped open, clouded by sleep. There was darkness all around, and beyond the darkness a storm was raging.

“Master!” a frightened voice kept calling to him. The voice of his tenacious servant. "Master, wake up! You will destroy the grove!"

Tamlin's heart pounded in his throat. His magic was raging, out of control. He could feel it, but he couldn't see it - the roots of the willow under which he slept were woven tightly around his animal body, as if to cocoon him from the raging elements. He dug his claws into the ground, trying to calm himself, trying to control the magic.

"Master!"

Shut up, shut up... Tamlin growled, forcing the winds to subside. Slowly, as if reluctantly, the roots of the willow obeyed him, unravelling and releasing him, retreating back underground. The tree must not be harmed... Tamlin would not forgive himself if his intemperance caused his mother's resting place to become a ruin.

"Master!" The spirit's exclamation came from nearby. Tamlin reacted sharply, his targeted roar causing Ariel to recoil.

“Stay away!”

The spirit threw up its arms, and after a few heavy sighs, Tamlin recovered enough to lift the mist from his vision. Ariel's hands were torn - small wounds covered palms and wrists. It looked like the fool had tried to pull the roots apart with his bare hands…

Tamlin shook himself in an attempt to shake off the remnants of a sleepy nightmare along with the earth from his fur.

"Master…"

"What happened?" Tamlin interrupted abruptly, not wanting to listen to his pitiful wailing. Looking around, he saw a few trees that had been hobbled, but overall the damage to the sacred grove was not critical. Thank Goddess Mother, it passed....

"Well... you... I suppose you had a nightmare?" Ariel still held his hands up, as if to show he wasn't a threat. "When I flew in and tried to wake you, these roots hid you from me... it seems this tree was protecting you..."

Tamlin blinked. Protecting ? No, it... It was probably just his magic reacting to the destruction. It had happened before. The last time, during a nightmare like this, Tamlin had blown up the south wing of the mansion, but the air shield had protected him from damage himself. He looked again at Ariel's shredded hands, slowly healing.

“Why did you do that?”

Ariel immediately hid his hands behind his back.

"What was I supposed to do, just stand there and watch?" the spirit muttered. "I was scared, okay? You... I... I have bad associations with being trapped in a tree."

Tamlin remembered the gaunt pine that had long served as a prison. Does Ariel have nightmares too…?

"Master…"

"What?!" snarled Tamlin, not so much angry as tired. The rest had not brought him peace, but new destruction. And this spirit... Tamlin felt a pang of guilt, even though he had not asked the foolish servant for help!

Anyone else in Ariel's position would have been frightened by his growl. Or would have taken offence. Ariel just fluttered his eyelashes and said, "Why don't I guard you while you sleep?"

Tamlin twitched his tail in surprise.

"What?" he asked dully.

"What? I'll wake you up if I have to!"

Tamlin stared at the spirit in silence for a few moments, not knowing how to respond to such insolence. This noisy, talkative bird wasn't going to leave him alone, was it?

"Get out of my sight," Tamlin finally muttered, the mark on his skin, hidden by his fur, stinging with heat. He turned heavily on his paws and padded off into the grove, leaving Ariel behind.

Or rather, he was trying to leave Ariel behind. After five minutes of walking and tense silence, Tamlin growled, "I told you to get out."

“Nope, you said you didn't want to see me,” said the spirit behind his back in a cheerful voice. “You can't see me! All is fair!”

Tamlin turned around in irritation, but only had time to notice the leaves being lifted from the ground by the wind.

“I'm in no mood to play your games!”

"These are not games, Master. I am concerned for your welfare." Ariel's voice sounded close to his ear, but when Tamlin turned his horned head, he saw no one.

"Enough! Show yourself, now!"

Ariel immediately complied, hovering in the air and slowly lowering himself to the ground.

"Master, you almost hurt yourself," his tone was uncharacteristically serious. "And almost hurt the grove. I can't leave you like this, it's dangerous."

"I don't need your help."

"Yes, you do!" Ariel put his hands on his hips. What a funny picture - a little spirit trying to look threatening. "Are you resting at all?"

"None of your business!"

"You're a stubborn fool, Master!" Ariel flapped his arms irritably like wings. Tamlin roared in response.

"Insolent spirit, don't make me angry!"

"Or what!"

A sudden roar shook the sky. Tamlin's power rushed forward in a gust of wind. Ariel squealed and covered his face with his hands as the wind tore at his clothes and hair, nearly knocking him to the ground. Tamlin roared, his eyes glowing with a bright green light. The wind whipped around, causing the thin trees to bend and crack dangerously. It was dangerous, an outburst of anger and irritation could cost the grove dearly, but Tamlin couldn't bring himself to calm down before his lungs ran out of oxygen. When he fell silent, Ariel lowered palms carefully.

"Are you feeling better?"

Reluctantly, Tamlin replied, "Yes.”

"Wonderful!"

Mother Goddess have mercy, the mood of a stubborn servant seemed impossible to kill. Ariel fixed his windswept hair and waved towards the two leaning trees - if Tamlin remembered correctly, his grandmother's third cousins slept there.

"Then make yourself comfortable, Master."

Tamlin didn't really have much of a choice. He could continue to insist, giving Ariel orders to get out - but Ariel loved to find loopholes in his orders. Or he could have obeyed. Tamlin was tired, so tired that even his instincts screaming in warning and suspicion did not frighten him. No one could be trusted, but today he was willing to be a fatalist.

Giving up, Tamlin wandered off under the leafy cover of the trees. He stomped on the grass and leaves, twisting and turning to make himself more comfortable. It was worth giving Ariel credit - the spirit sat at a distance from him, his back to him. Maybe he didn't want to embarrass him... It helped anyway. Ariel had already seen too many of the High Lord's weaknesses.

Tamlin curled up in a ball of golden fur, his nose buried in his paws. His ears twitched sensitively as he heard the distant chirping of birds, life slowly returning to this garden. Ariel fidgeted in his seat, his restless hands finding blades of grass and flowers to weave into a wreath. He began to chirp under his breath, unable to remain silent for long.

Contrary to expectations, it wasn't annoying.

Ariel had a pleasant voice, and the melody he was humming sounded suspiciously like a lullaby. Tamlin took a deep breath of the cool air of the grove. How silly... he wasn't a child. He doesn't need comforting. But still no irritation blossomed in his chest.

Tamlin closed eyes.

As is tradition, the musical accompaniment of the chapter ☆

#acotar #tamlin acotar #tamlin #tamlin x oc #art #acotar fanart #pro tamlin #acotar fanfiction #A Song of the Woods and Winds

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novaursa · 7 months ago

Text

The North Remembers Her (the vow)

- Summary: He captured you, but you will not allow him to break you.

- Pairing: stark!reader/Ramsay Bolton

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (for blood, gore, death and Ramsay being himself)

- Previous part: 1

- Next part: the bride

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround

The sound of iron gates creaking open grates against your ears, a cruel symphony that sets your teeth on edge. Outside, the wind howls, whipping through the courtyard of the Dreadfort like a restless spirit. You’re being led there—dragged, really—by two guards whose iron grips dig painfully into your arms.

Ramsay had summoned you.

The urgency of it unsettled you more than his usual games. Ramsay doesn’t summon; he commands—a difference made clear by the mocking tones and cruel laughter that usually accompany his orders. But this time, the men came with few words, their faces blank, and something about the way they carried themselves told you it was no jest.

And now, standing in the center of the courtyard, the truth slams into you like a blow.

No.

The chains rattle first, loud and unmistakable, before your eyes find her. Snow, your direwolf—named for the way her fur shimmers white and grey as fresh winter frost—is dragged into view by three men struggling to control her. Her powerful legs are bound, and the weight of the chains pulls her low to the ground, her massive body sprawled awkwardly. Snow’s head is bloodied, one ear torn, and her coat is matted with crimson streaks. Her flanks rise and fall with each shallow, labored breath.

“Snow!” Your voice breaks. You lurch forward, but the guards hold you fast.

Her head jerks at the sound of your voice, her pale golden eyes finding you. There’s a flicker of recognition there—a glimmer of the strength you know she has—but it’s weak, dulled by pain.

“Well, isn’t this touching,” Ramsay’s voice sings, cutting through the cold like a blade. He steps forward from the shadows, hands tucked behind his back, that ever-present grin spread across his pale face. “The little wolf and her pet—reunited at last.”

“You bastard,” you snarl, your voice trembling with rage. “What have you done to her?!”

Ramsay tilts his head, feigning innocence. “I? Nothing.” He walks toward Snow, boots crunching softly against the frost-covered ground. He crouches beside her, reaching out to stroke the matted fur along her flank. “It was my men who caught her. You should be proud, really. She gave them quite the chase. Bit off one man’s fingers, tore another’s face wide open.” He sighs, as though inconvenienced. “But even wolves tire eventually, don’t they?”

“Don’t touch her!” you scream, trying to wrench yourself free of the guards. One of them jerks you back roughly, and you stumble.

Ramsay looks up at you, his smile widening. “Careful, my lady. Wouldn’t want you hurting yourself. Not when there’s so much to celebrate.”

You glare at him, your chest heaving, your nails digging into your palms as you struggle against the rage boiling in your blood. “Let her go.”

“Oh, no,” Ramsay says softly, shaking his head as though you’re a foolish child. He rises to his feet, brushing his hands together. “You’ve caused so much trouble, little wolf. And this beast of yours? She’s worse. A menace. My father wants her dead—flayed, even—but I thought I’d let you see her first.”

Snow’s eyes remain on you. She growls low and deep, a sound that reverberates through the ground despite her injuries. The chains groan as she tries to lift her head, but her strength falters.

“Stop this,” you say through gritted teeth, trying to steady your voice. “You’ve proven your point. She’s beaten.”

Ramsay’s grin falters for just a second, his pale eyes narrowing. “Oh? And what point is that?”

“That you’re a monster,” you snap. “That you’re a coward who plays games with injured animals because it’s the only thing he can beat.”

The words hang in the air like smoke. For a moment, the guards around you stiffen, as though waiting for the explosion. Ramsay’s smile slowly returns, but it’s colder now—deadly.

“Careful,” he murmurs, stepping toward you. His gaze doesn’t leave yours as he draws closer. “You’re brave now, but brave things break just as easily as weak ones. Sometimes more easily.”

He reaches for your chin, gripping it hard enough to make you wince. His face is so close to yours that you can feel his breath.

“Do you want to know what happens next?” he whispers. “I’ll let you decide. Shall I kill her here? Flay her as my father suggested? Or would you rather I let crows eat her corpse?” His smile sharpens. “A proper feast.”

You stare into his eyes, refusing to show fear, though every word he speaks feels like a dagger twisting in your chest.

“You’ll do none of those things,” you hiss. “If you do, I swear by the Old Gods and the New that I will kill you.”

Ramsay laughs softly, releasing your chin with a shove. “You’re so dramatic, little wolf. I’m almost starting to like you.”

He gestures to his men. “Chain her up properly. Let her watch.” He casts a glance at Snow, who growls again, weak but unrelenting. “Maybe seeing her die will make you a bit more… agreeable.”

The guards drag you forward, forcing you to your knees as they bind your hands. You thrash against them, your eyes fixed on Snow. “Stay with me!” you cry desperately. “Hold on, girl. Hold on!”

Snow growls again, louder this time. She bares her teeth despite the blood on her muzzle, a flicker of the wild spirit you know so well. Her gaze doesn’t leave you. She’s telling you something—Stay strong—even though the fight is slowly leaving her body.

You feel Ramsay crouch beside you, his voice a whisper in your ear. “Watch her closely, Stark. Watch her suffer. Because once I’m finished with her…” He pauses, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “We’re playing next.”

The chains rattle again as Snow lets out a sound halfway between a growl and a whimper. A sob catches in your throat, but you swallow it down, forcing yourself to meet her eyes one last time.

Ramsay stands, clapping his hands once. “Shall we begin?”

The cold presses in from all sides, the wind howling through the courtyard like a ghost. Your knees are numb from the frozen stone, but you don’t feel it. All you feel is the pulse of panic and grief coursing through your veins.

Ramsay steps forward, a dagger glinting in his hand.

“Do you see her, little wolf?” he calls softly, his voice sweet with mock sympathy. “She’s suffering. I’m being kind, really. A mercy.”

Your heart pounds painfully, and you tug hard against the ropes binding your wrists. “You don’t know what mercy is.”

Ramsay grins as though your defiance is his favorite song. “Oh, but I do. Mercy is such a lovely thing. It just takes the right touch.”

He crouches beside Snow, the chains clinking as he reaches out to run a hand over her bloodied fur. She flinches, baring her teeth, and a snarl rumbles from deep in her chest—a final act of defiance. Ramsay’s grin widens.

“I like this one,” he muses, turning his head toward you. “So much spirit. Like her mistress.”

“Don’t do this,” you plead, your voice breaking in spite of yourself. “She’s beaten. You’ve won. Let her go.”

Ramsay straightens and steps toward you, tilting his head like a curious predator. “Let her go? And spoil all the fun? No, no, little wolf. That’s not how this ends.”

“You think this is a victory?” you snarl, glaring at him through tears you refuse to let fall. “Killing a half-dead wolf? It only proves what you are—weak. A coward.”

His eyes flash with something sharp, but the smirk doesn’t leave his face. Instead, he kneels by Snow again, taking her blood-matted fur in his hand and twisting, forcing her head down against the stone.

“Then let’s see how cowardly I am.”

“*Ramsay!” you scream, fighting against the guards’ hold. “No! NO!”

But your screams mean nothing. In one smooth, practiced motion, Ramsay raises the dagger and drives it into Snow’s chest.

She lets out a sound that’s halfway between a whimper and a snarl, a sound that cuts through your heart like ice. Her body jerks once, then falls still. The chains clatter as they go slack.

It’s over.

The world blurs around you, the edges of your vision swimming with tears as you stare at her still form. Snow—your shadow, your protector, your last connection to the wild and free North—lies dead before you.

Ramsay rises slowly, blood dripping from his dagger onto the stone. He wipes the blade clean against his sleeve and turns back to you, grinning like a child who’s smashed his favorite toy. “There. Isn’t that better?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. The grief chokes you, tangling in your chest, and for the first time, you allow the tears to fall.

Ramsay steps closer, crouching so that his face is level with yours. His pale blue eyes glitter with amusement as he tilts his head, studying you like some broken thing.

“You know,” he says softly, “I’ve heard wolves are loyal creatures. Fierce, too. But in the end…” He gestures back toward Snow’s lifeless body with his bloodied blade. “They’re just animals.”

You lift your head slowly, your vision narrowing on him. Something dark burns inside you—deeper than rage, colder than grief. The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, clear and calm, like an oath whispered to the Old Gods themselves.

“I’ll kill you.”

Ramsay’s smirk falters just slightly. “What was that?”

“I’ll kill you,” you repeat, your voice steady now. “On our wedding night, I’ll slit your throat and watch the life drain from your eyes.”

The guards around you go still. Even Ramsay’s hounds, watching from the shadows, fall silent. The wind whips through the courtyard, but it feels like the world has stilled.

Ramsay blinks once, then twice. For a moment, there’s no sound but the howl of the wind. Then he laughs.

It’s soft at first—a low, almost disbelieving chuckle—but it grows louder and louder until it echoes through the courtyard. He throws his head back, his whole body shaking with it, as though you’ve said the most amusing thing in the world.

“Oh, you’re perfect,” he breathes, wiping at the corner of his eye as though he’s wiping away a tear. “I *knew there was a reason I liked you.”

“I mean it,” you say, your voice hard as iron. “One day—soon—I’ll make you pay for this.”

Ramsay stops laughing, though the smile remains firmly in place. He leans in close. “I look forward to it, my little wolf.”

His grin sharpens, cruel and predatory. “It’ll make the wedding night so much more exciting.”

He straightens and steps back, leaving you kneeling in the snow as he turns to his guards. “Take her inside. She’ll need to be… rested for the big day.”

They drag you up, but you don’t resist. Your eyes remain fixed on Snow, her lifeless body still sprawled where Ramsay left her. You hold that image—burn it into your memory—because it fuels the fire inside you.

As they pull you toward the keep, Ramsay’s voice follows you, light and mocking.

“Don’t worry, little wolf. We’ll make a fine pair.”

You don’t look back at him. You don’t speak.

You only swear to yourself, again and again, that you will keep your promise. One day, Ramsay Bolton will bleed.

And the last thing he’ll ever see will be you.

The stone chamber they’d shoved you into was cold, damp, and dark—no fire burned in the small hearth, and the single window let in nothing but a miserable trickle of pale grey light. The Dreadfort was a place of misery, and you could feel it in the walls, in the air itself.

Days had blurred together since Snow’s death, and time was meaningless here. The only thing that marked its passage was the sound of the door creaking open and slamming shut when Reek brought you meals.

You hear the familiar sound now—the shuffling of footsteps outside your door, followed by the low groan of iron hinges as it swings open. You don’t lift your head at first, staring instead at the stone floor beneath you.

“Put it there,” you say flatly. It’s what you always say, and Reek always obeys.

His footsteps are light, hesitant, as though he’s afraid of making noise. He places the tray down on the small table in the corner, the dull clink of the cup and bowl echoing through the silence. You hear him move back toward the door, but still, he refuses to speak or meet your eyes.

“Reek,” you say suddenly, your voice cutting through the quiet. The name feels sour on your tongue.

The footsteps stop.

For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of your own breathing. You turn your head slowly, looking at him. He’s standing by the door, his thin shoulders hunched, his head bowed low. The once-proud Theon Greyjoy, the boy who grew up with you in Winterfell, is gone. What’s left is a broken creature of Ramsay’s making. His clothes hang loose on his frail frame, and his greasy hair hides most of his face.

“Does time truly mend all wounds?” you ask, bitterness lacing your tone.

He flinches. His thin hands twitch at his sides, but he doesn’t move.

You take a slow breath, forcing yourself to sound calm even though anger and grief simmer beneath your skin. “Do you remember the pond? Behind Winterfell?”

There’s no answer, but you see the faintest shift in his posture. You press on.

“You fell through the ice,” you continue, your voice quiet now, laced with something almost wistful. “You were showing off again. Trying to impress Robb and Jon by walking out too far. You slipped, and the ice broke.”

He doesn’t move, but you can feel his attention on you now—hesitant, wary.

“Robb dragged you out,” you go on. “You were shivering so badly you couldn’t speak, and you looked like a drowned rat.” The corner of your mouth twitches faintly. “You cried when we made you sit by the fire.”

Finally, he turns just slightly. He doesn’t lift his head, but you catch a glimpse of his face, his hollow eyes peeking out from behind the curtain of greasy hair. Something flickers there—recognition, maybe even shame.

“You said you hated us all,” you continue softly, “but you didn’t. Not really.”

He swallows, his throat bobbing visibly. For the first time, he speaks—his voice is cracked and faint, barely audible.

“I… I remember.”

The words hang between you like fragile glass.

You stare at him for a long moment, searching his face for any trace of Theon Greyjoy—the boy who had once laughed alongside you in the Godswood, who’d playfully teased you when you climbed higher than him in the trees. But all you see is a shadow.

Your tone turns cold. “And now look at you.”

The flicker of warmth in his gaze dies immediately, as if snuffed out. His shoulders slump further, his head bowing until his chin nearly touches his chest. He doesn’t respond.

“I hate you for what you did,” you say quietly, each word cutting through the air like a dagger. “You betrayed my family. You took Winterfell. And now my wolf is dead because of you. Because of him.”

He flinches again at the word him, and you know you’ve struck a nerve.

You press on. “Is this what you wanted, Theon?” you spit his name like poison. “To be his creature? To cower and serve him while he destroys everything good in the North?”

“Don’t…” The word falls from his lips like a whimper.

“Don’t what?” you demand sharply, rising to your feet. “Don’t say the truth? That you’re nothing but his broken dog? Or are you afraid of hearing your name—Theon Greyjoy—because it reminds you of who you used to be? Who you’ll never be again?”

He staggers back a step, his hands trembling. “Stop…”

The anger burns hot in your chest, but you feel no satisfaction in it. You stare at him, this hollow, shaking thing, and the fury mingles with pity so sharp it makes your stomach turn.

“You disgust me,” you say finally, your voice low and even. “You let him take everything from you. And now you bring me bread and water like a good little servant. Go. I don’t want to look at you anymore.”

Reek stares at the floor for a long moment, his breathing uneven. Then, without another word, he turns and shuffles out of the room, the door groaning as he closes it behind him.

The silence that follows is worse than the cold. You sit back on the hard cot, staring at the tray he left behind. The smell of the stale bread and watery stew turns your stomach, but you don’t move.

For the first time in days, you let yourself cry. Silent tears fall down your cheeks, and you press a hand to your mouth to muffle the sound. Not for Snow. Not for Ramsay. But for everything—and everyone—you’ve lost.

And somewhere deep in the pit of your anger and grief, you feel something shift.

If Ramsay was the monster who took everything from you, then maybe Theon—broken as he was—could still be something more.

You would find a way to survive. You would keep your promise to kill Ramsay. But you’d also remember this moment.

#game of thrones #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #fire and blood #hotd #house of the dragon #got #got/asoiaf #got x reader #got x you #got x y/n #got ramsay #ramsay x reader #ramsay bolton #ramsay x you #ramsay x y/n #house stark #house bolton #the north remembers her

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multifandom-pleasures · 1 year ago

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scourge x reader

A/N: trying to convince people into the scourge hype as my second fave behind shadow - he may only be in the comics, but god do I love his character 🙏

you had hated him. he was arrogant, violent, power-hungry, and never took no for an answer. he paraded himself around the city like he was the self-proclaimed king he was; crown atop his head and red lenses covering his eyes, a sharp-toothed smile adorning his face. chaos forbid someone look at him the wrong way, because with a snap of his fingers they would be taken care of, left battered and bruised where they last stood.

and not to mention the women. monogamy was a word of fairy tail to him, a new chick hanging off his arm, scourge showing them off like some tacky piece of jewelry. sometimes, he would even have two of them - and even on the same day. he’d gotten his fair share of backhands across the face, a smug smile on his face like he hadn’t done a thing wrong. he was king after all, he could have as many women as he’d like; couldn’t he?

 but you weren’t prone to his charms, either. as much as you had despised him, cursed his being with every bit of your soul, he had found a way to weasel himself into your home. at first, it was for the usual hookups; he’d stumble to your door drunk and desperate, and you indulged in it. you got a good fuck out of it, and you would wake to him gone in the morning. it was a fair give and take. but then, after a couple of months, he’d begun to stick around. you would wake to his green spiked in your face, and you would shove him off your bed with a snark at him to get out already. he’d snag a a snack from your pantry and waltz his way out.

and then he stayed later. you gave up on kicking him out and let him lay in bed, getting a pot of coffee going. he’d shuffle his way into the kitchen at the smell of roasted coffee beans, rubbing at his eyes and mumbling something about staying in bed longer with him. you just shoved a mug of coffee into his hands, not caring if the scorching liquid splashed on him; and sent him to sit down. he would oblige, and you would give a simple breakfast of toast and eggs. he’d scarf it down, along with his piping hot coffee, and would leave with a wink and half-assed thanks for breakfast.

you don’t know when those days blended in with you waking up with him snuggled against the crook of your neck, his chest against your back and his arms locked around your waist. he didn’t even come by just for sex anymore; some days, sure, but the rest he would just make his way into your home; which you’d given him the key to so he would stop waking you at midnight; and he would join you in bed where you already slept. and you didn’t even mind. you never questioned him either, afraid that if you dared mention his new, odd schedule that he would pull back and avoid you altogether. you didn’t want that; not when you finally started to enjoy his company.

you woke one morning with scourge cradling you from behind. you didn’t make any movements yet, enjoying the sensation of his chest rising and falling against you as he slept, his breath fanning at the back of your neck. your hand slipped down to rest against scourge’s as it rested on your stomach, stroking your thumb against the back of it; his fur soft beneath the pad of your finger. he always took his gloves off before getting into bed with you.

you turned carefully in his grasp to look up at scourge’s sleeping form. the only time he ever looked peaceful was when he slept. his usual leering smirk nonexistent and instead parted in soft breaths, his furrowed brows relaxed and making him actually look youthful. he had eye bags, not so heavy as when you first met him, you noticed. and then ears, lightly twitching in his sleep, adorned with golden studs; one of his ears missing the tip. torn off in some fight years ago, you would assume.

you trailed down his form to his fuzzy pink chest, three faded yet still prominent scars torn across. he was always happy to brag about his scars, boast about his won battles and fights; except those three. when you questioned him he avoided it, waving you off that they were unimportant. that it was the same as any of his other stories. you didn’t push further.

“ like what yer seein’ dollface? “ you jerked up as he spoke, an unamused expression forming across your face as that smirk made its way across his lips, “ take a picture, yeah? lasts longer. “

“ shut up. “ you mumbled, shifting to sit up. his hand grasped onto your waist and tugged you back into him, which you didn’t fight against. you huffed as you fell back into the pillows and looked up at him as he instead moved to hover over you.

“ already so feisty so early in the mornin’? ain’t even said hi yet. “

“ hi. “ you replied boredly, and he flashed fangs as he grinned.

“ hey, dollface. “ he dipped down and pressed a kiss to your lips, which you eagerly leaned into. he’d learned to kiss you softer when once he’d gotten too excited and cut your lip open - he’d made it up to you with more kisses, tongue lapping at the blood and gentle murmurs of not meaning to be so rough.

you pulled back before he could get any thoughts of taking it further, pressing a hand against his chest and nudging him back. you looked up at him, expecting a more heated expression on his face - but you were surprised to see him simply admiring you. his eyes darted across your face, and then down your form, taking you in. it flustered you. you huffed and pressed your hand over his eyes, blocking his vision.

“ get up - I need coffee. “

“ hey, cmon, stay in bed this once? y’always get up too early. “ scourge complained, his arms caging you on the bed as he pouted. you snickered and uncovered his eyes.

“ if I stay in this bed any longer, I’m never getting up. “

“ ‘s kinda the point. “

“ you know what kind of person asks someone else to stay in bed like this? “

“ what. “

“ boyfriends. boyfriends ask their lovers to stay in bed to kiss and fuck and cuddle. “ you replied with a scoff, hoping that would be enough to startle him off you. but he didn’t budge.

“ boyfriend? “ he echoed, craning his head as he stared you down, not looking at all discouraged by your words like you’d hoped, “ ‘s that what ya see me as? “ you sputtered, feeling your face burn with a flush.

“ n-no! I’m just saying - hookups don’t ask for this kinda stuff, “ you averted your gaze, trying to keep from giving any kind of hint of your attraction to him. no way he would simply choose you. he loved his lifestyle.

when the silence lingered for a bit too long, you finally turned to face him, and immediately you were met with a kiss. you let out a small sound, startled by the gesture, but just as before you melted into it. your hands looped around his shoulders and you relished the gesture. scourge’s hand slid up to rest on your waist, his other hand still keeping him steadily over you, and as he pulled himself back you found yourself chasing after him. he smirked at your desperation.

“ all y’had to do was say so, y’know. “ he replied nonchalantly, “ it’s been - what - a year almost? y’think I keep my hookups round that long just cause they’re a good fuck? ‘s what my phone’s for, I don’t stick around. “ he dipped down to kiss your jaw, sighing, “ ‘m not gonna be great, I’ll tell ya that now. “

“ I know. “ you whispered, grasping onto his quills as he moved down to your neck.

“ might slip up and hurt ya. “

“ I know. “

“ why d’you want me anyways. y’know what kinda person i am - even i know ‘m shitty. “

“ I don’t know. “ you lifted his face to look down at him properly, “ I just.. know I like you. you’re different here than how you are out there. you don’t.. act. “ he hummed softly, pressing a few kisses against the palm of your hand, only serving to fluster your further.

“ y’sure you want me dollface? “ you nodded your head, and he gave you a toothy smile - softer than the usual ones, his eyes crinkling as he leaned in closer, “ then you’ve got me. just have some patience, alright? “

you nodded again, and captured his lips in another kiss. this time he was the one who was eager to reciprocate, tugging the blankets over the two of you once more. you both got what you had wanted in the end - you had gotten scourge to be solely yours, and scourge got you to stay in bed with him for the day.

#scourge x reader #scourge #scourge the hedgehog #sonic characters #sonic fandom #sonic the hedgehog #sonic fic #archie sonic

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critterishere · 2 months ago

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Thinking about the design that I use for anons,,,, and I wanted to create new lore since the old one (where these beings were originally robots) is now outdated. Woooo big lore dump thing wooooo!

(Note: This will not affect asks at all, I literally just wanted to write how these things were created for fun. Playing touys)

I imagine my little sona (the critter😼) to live in this place called Craters. This place is based off of an inside joke,,, it’s basically a weird whimsical little land/maybe country that is home to all sorts of cryptids, spirits, and odd occurrences. A lot of the actual Craters’ lore hasn’t been fully thought out yet, but one place that exists in this world is the Messenger Junkyard!

The Messenger Junkyard (sometimes referred to as a graveyard) is an area in one of Craters’ forests where thousands of abandoned statues now rest. These statues used to hold religious significance and were used to get in contact with higher beings. The statues are tall, vaguely humanoid figures with long faces, commonly draped in a cloth with intricate patterns. (Ignore the fact that none of my drawings have the patterns I was lazy😭)

Various gods (or their workers) would send out messages to the people working in the church/shrine/temple. These messages were either warnings, prophecies, requests, or to tell someone off for not doing their job correctly. (😭 depends on the being in the vessel)

Random note! I like to think that whenever these vessels get possessed, the clay will fall apart, revealing a body of flesh underneath. 🐣 Why is there flesh inside of the statue entirely made of clay or stone? No clue! 😭 sometimes I write things because it sounds cool. Let’s just say it’s weird magic stuff. Fun yay yay❤️

These statues would usually have a seal or symbol placed on it to prevent any unwanted visitors from using them. After the mass discarding of these statues, these symbols were lost or got torn off (or chipped off, some had the seals carved into them), making it accessible for lesser beings without physical form to control them.

So, there is a forest filled with statues that may or may not be possessed by ghosts, demons, or other trickster spirits. Who will make sure that nothing bad happens?

This… This thing watches over the Messenger Junkyard…

The critter lives near the forest, and goes out to check on the statues every now and then. It cleans the statues, tries to reassemble ones that have fallen apart, and looks out for any movement.

It generally doesn’t run into too much trouble with the statues. A lot of the ones that get possessed are usually controlled by ghosts of humans that have died in Craters (sometimes the ghosts of animals possess the vessels. It’s rare, but it’s an entertaining to see what was once a symbol of the divine scratching its ear, then clumsily trying to climb a tree).

anywayss misc doodles over heeeeere!!!

In the left image, I was thinking about what a messenger vessel would look like if it were to present more human. I’m not quite sure if vessels can change color.. I do sometimes put fur on them and make them change into a multitude of different shapes, so maybe they can do some chameleon stuff as well! Speaking of fur stuff,, second image is me having fun with hair texture for a bit, as well as a drawing of some weird lizard spine ridge type thing going on at the top doodle. Fun shapes for fun creatures!

This was an old mini comic I never got around to finishing. It was made before the messengers were officially changed to be more organic. I think it’s still silly so here you go!👍📨

anywayyyys bye gang (explodes) I love playing toy and making stories up for my monster designs🌺

#my art #cw religion mention #cw religion #cw religious imagery #messengers #ghosts and spirits #Not good at drawing backgrounds but I think the messenger junkyard is kinda cute. Do need to work on some stuff tho

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marvelmusing · 1 year ago

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Handle With Care

From the Our Souls AU

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Fem!Reader

(His Dark Materials inspired AU)

Summary: Aleksander finds you in a vulnerable state and takes care of you and your dæmon after an altercation.

Warnings: mentions of violence and injury, hurt/comfort.

My Masterlist

Aleksander is drawn out of his study at the University of Ravka, by the sounds of a commotion further down the hallway. He steps outside, closing the door smoothly behind himself once Andromeda has followed him. It appears he isn’t the only one curious about the altercation. A few other people have gathered to watch the Master scold two people.

The sound of someone choking down a sob makes Aleksander’s stomach twist, because that someone sounds frighteningly like you. He increases the pace of his gait, striding down the corridor. His heart beats wildly in his chest when he sees your tearstained cheeks, clutching fiercely onto Fabian as you hold your dæmon close to your chest.

He barely hears what the Master says as he approaches. In the corner of his vision, he sees Zoya with a bruise forming on her cheek and there’s a twinge of pride in his chest at the thought of you defending yourself. He has no intention of listening to Nazyalensky’s side of the story.

“Come with me,” he murmurs softly against your ear.

Settling a gentle hand on your waist, he guides you towards his private quarters upstairs. He’s careful not to touch Fabian and keeps a close eye on you both. His heart aches as you continue crying quietly, your face almost hidden by Fabian’s fur.

Aleksander sets you down on his bed, and you curl in on yourself, keeping your dæmon tucked protectively against your chest. He retrieves a few medical supplies, bandages and ointments, from his bathroom in preparation. Then he sits down beside you. He strokes his hand down your side, attempting to soothe you before he speaks.

“Darling, I need to check Fabian over.”

A whimper catches in your throat, and he sees you shake your head weakly, burying your face into the red fur of your dæmon. Aleksander manages to get his hand underneath Fabian’s body, encouraging the two of you to let go of one another.

“Come here, sweet boy.”

A painful cry escapes you and Aleksander watches you press your arms tightly against your chest in an attempt at filling the space previously occupied by your soul.

“Faby,” you whine, distress choking you.

Aleksander hears your breathing shift into panicked gasps, seconds away from spiralling into another bout of uncontrollable emotion. He places his hand over your ribs, feeling the frantic rise and fall of your chest as your anxiety increases.

“I know, darling. I know it hurts, but he’s right here. Can you hold onto Andromeda for me?”

He feels you grasping at his dæmon, as she licks gently over your forehead, encouraging you to breathe in a soft voice. He hears her murmuring reassurances to you while you cry.

“Andromeda,” you whimper. She hushes you softly.

“It’s alright, dear girl. Aleksander will look after him.”

There are a few patches of fur missing from Fabian’s coat, clumps torn out during the fight, and a bite mark on his left shoulder. There isn’t too much damage, but the wound needs to be cleaned. The dæmon trembles in Aleksander’s lap as he dips a cloth into a dish of water, wringing out the excess.

Andromeda turns to look at him, eyeing the cloth in his hand.

“This is going to hurt them both,” he states.

She nods.

“Can you give him something for the pain?”

“I don’t know if he trusts me enough to drink it.”

“He will.”

Aleksander holds his dæmon’s gaze for a long moment. Then he nods. He pours a tonic into a small dish, placing in front of Fabian’s mouth.

“Drink as much as you can, Fabian.” When your dæmon begins to lick at the liquid, pink tongue darting out tentatively, Aleksander breathes out a sigh of relief. “There we go. Good boy.”

He strokes the back of Fabian’s head gently, encouraging to continue drinking. Once the dish has been licked clean, he turns his attention to the bite mark.

“Now let’s clean this up for you.”

Fabian only flinches slightly as the cloth meets his broken skin and a distant whimper catches in your throat and Aleksander hears you whisper his name weakly.

Whenever dæmon’s consume something, it affects their human counterpart tenfold. He suspects the tonic has made you disorientated, on the cusp of passing out. Aleksander’s dæmon continues talking to you, keeping you conscious and grounded as your fingers play absently with her fur.

Once Fabian’s wound has been cleaned, Aleksander carries him back over to you, placing him down on the bed. Instantly, your dæmon buries himself into your chest and you grasp hold of him tightly.

Andromeda licks your forehead affectionately, lying down beside Fabian. Aleksander drapes the covers over your body.

“The drink I gave him will make you both feel sleepy. Get some rest, darling.” As your mind seems to begin drifting off, your body tenses and Aleksander adds, “The door is locked. We are the only ones here, and I won’t touch Fabian again unless you ask me to.”

As soon as he finishes speaking, your breathing evens out.

»»---------------------►

“Aleksander?”

He turns quickly, neck twinging at the sudden movement. He must have fallen asleep in his armchair by the fireplace. His eyes scour over you, the exhaustion settled over your features, the way you keep your arms crossed protectively over yourself. Breathing out your name, he shuffles to the edge of his seat.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, your eyes lowered to the rug beneath your feet as you tuck his robe tighter around your body.

He frowns.

“Whatever for?”

“Last night. I- I acted like a child.”

His gaze flickers down to your hands as they fidget, wringing them briefly before you begin to scratch your thumbnail against your palm. Emotion fills your features, your throat bobbing as you appear to be holding back tears.

“Someone had hurt your soul,” he argues. “I think how you acted was justified.”

There’s a pause as you seems to consider something.

“Don’t you think I should be more mature - less reliant on him?”

Fabian looks half-asleep, still curled up against Andromeda on Aleksander’s bed. He lifts his head at the sound of your distress, though Aleksander can see his eyes are unfocused and he soon slumps back down into Andromeda’s side.

“Not at all. Come here.”

You shake your head.

“You can’t want me,” you insist, tears dripping down your face. “I still need to hold my dæmon to fall asleep at night.”

“Is that what Zoya said to you?”

There’s a moment of hesitation where you don’t meet his eyes. Then you nod. He beckons to you again, and this time you walk closer and allow him to pull you into his lap.

“The bond you share with Fabian is a gift. It is beautiful. Anyone who doesn’t see that is a fool.”

More tears trace down your cheeks, droplets falling onto Aleksander’s shirt as you lean your temple against his shoulder.

“When I was younger,” you begin quietly, fidgeting with the collar of his shirt. “I used to play with the rest of the children who stayed at the Little Palace over the summer. We used to explore together. There wasn’t anywhere we didn’t go.”

He didn’t know you stayed at the Little Palace. He had always assumed you had a family, and a home, to go back to over the summer.

“Not long after Fabian settled, they started treating us differently. One day, they locked him in a pantry.”

Aleksander tilts his head at your admission, his eyes locked on your face as the memories turn your tears into soft sobs that have you trembling in his arms. He tightens his hold on you, as you grip onto his shirt.

“I couldn’t get him out. If it had happened a few months earlier, he could have changed into a moth or a beetle and crawled out through the crack under the door. But because he had settled, because he was a fox, he couldn’t get out.”

“What happened?”

“A kitchen servant found us. She took one look at him, saw a fox dæmon, and thought we were stealing food. She told the master, and I was punished for it. I was too distraught to tell them the truth.”

He rests his chin on the crown of your head and you bury your face into his chest. Anger burns in his chest, and Andromeda’s eyes lock onto his from across the room. They will never let anyone hurt you like that again.

“Darling, I’m so sorry.” He presses the hint of a kiss to your hair and the two of you are quiet for a moment. Then he says, “That’s why you went into dæmonlogy, isn’t it?”

You nod.

“Just because my dæmon is a fox, does not mean I’m untrustworthy.”

“It doesn’t,” he agrees. “Fabian is one of the most goodnatured dæmons I’ve ever known and you have a kind heart. Neither of you deserve such suspicion.”

“Thank you.”

He shakes his head.

“You don’t have to thank me.” He gives your body a gentle squeeze, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. His chin grazes your forehead as his hands rub over your shoulders, up and down your arm. “Stay with us for the day.”

That makes you lift your head up, to look at him. He watches you blink in confusion at his offer.

“What?”

“Fabian won’t be feeling himself until around noon. I don’t like the thought of you being alone while he’s out of sorts.”

“Oh.”

“And, perhaps…” He smiles at you, tracing his fingertips over your cheek, along your jawline. “I want to spend time with you.” That draws a bashful smile to your lips, spreading over your features. He tilts his head at you, admiring you with a soft expression. “Shall I ring for some breakfast?”

You nod.

“Please.”

»»---------------------►

marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse @dumb-fawkin-bitch @jane-arthur @ilikefictionmen @budugu @watersquirtpewpewboomm @mysweetlittledesire

S&B Tag List: @motheroffae @daddymaster21

Aleksander M Tag List: @nyctophiliiiiaaa @jazmin2211 @wooya1224 @seronsalk

BB Characters Tag List: @rachlovesactors @noortsshift @aikeia @weallhaveadestiny @two-unbeatable-beaters @idohknow @vaguekayla

#aleksander morozova x reader #the darkling x reader #the darkling au #shadow and bone au #shadow and bone x reader

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