#sharpen cheek bones

[yardsards]

feeling giddy remembering that i'll get to go on hrt someday

[pin-k-ink]

mania // hinata shoyo

tw ⇢ childhood friends to lovers, possessive!hinata, borderline obsessive behavior, teasing, squirting, cunnilingus, manhandling, dirty talk, unprotected sex, grinding, hinata takes a picture of you while you’re covered in cum

wc ⇢ 8.5k

The blaring of your alarm jolted you awake, the last wisps of a strange dream quickly dissipating. Groaning, you reached over to silence the incessant beeping. Another day, another monotonous routine to slog through.

As you raised yourself up on your elbows, you noticed a moving truck parked outside your window. Huh, someone new must be moving into the apartment next door that had been vacant for months. You supposed you should introduce yourself as the neighbor at some point.

You watched with detached interest as a figure emerged from the truck, hoisting a box into their arms with ease despite its considerable size. They wore a baseball cap pulled low, shielding most of their face from view. Suddenly, the person paused, turning to look in your direction. Even obscured by the cap's brim, you registered a pair of distinctly familiar bright eyes that sparked an old warmth within you.

Could it be...? No, it couldn't possibly...

As if hearing your internal questioning, the figure reached up with their free hand to remove the cap. Instantly, you gasped softly in recognition at the sunlight catching on his tousled orange locks and the gentle, friendly features - those of your childhood friend and neighbor Hinata Shoyo whom you hadn't seen in nearly a decade since his family moved away.

But as you drank in the rest of him, you realized this was not the Hinata you remembered. His compact frame had broadened substantially into toned, powerful muscles that rippled beneath his shirt as he moved. Faint tan lines gave a glimpse of the athlete's build lying underneath. Your gaze lingered perhaps a moment too long, feasting on the sight.

It was then that a myriad of conflicting emotions welled up - shock at his unexpected return after so many years, happiness to see your dear friend again, but also a growing flutter of something else in the pit of your stomach you couldn't quite identify. The tiny, energetic boy you fondly recalled was gone, unmistakably.

When Hinata's penetrating stare met yours once more, the intensity simmering there rattled you to your core. It was as if he were seeing straight through you, into you, assessing your reaction to his transformation in minute detail. You looked away sharply, heat creeping up your neck as your heartbeat quickened for reasons you didn't fully understand.

One thing was for certain - the reunion with your long lost friend was about to make your life anything but monotonous...

You stood there, still trying to process that the tall, chiseled man before you was actually little Hinata Shoyo, when he suddenly broke into a blinding smile and started bounding towards your door. Before you could even react, your front door burst open and powerful arms were enveloping you in a bone-crushing hug.

"(Y/N)! I can't believe it's really you!" Hinata's deep voice reverberated through you.

As he squeezed you tight against his firm body, his large hands splayed across your back, one slipping perhaps a little too low without meaning to. You gasped at the unbidden thrill the innocent contact sent through you. Get a grip! This was your childhood friend, for god's sake.

Pulling back finally, you drank in Hinata's features again up close - the sharpened jawline, intense eyes that seemed to glitter with unrestrained joy and something else you couldn't quite place, kiss-swollen lips quirked into a roguish grin.

"Shoyo! I...wow, you've really..." Your voice trailed off as heat flooded your cheeks.

His grin widened mischievously, as if he knew exactly what you were flustered about. "Yeah, I've changed a bit since we were kids, huh? The big leagues will do that."

There was a self-assured cockiness there that the old Hinata definitely lacked. His hands were still planted firmly on you, his thumbs tracing maddeningly slow circles against your sides that had you struggling not to squirm.

"Hey, why don't you come over in a bit after I get settled?" he asked, that molten gaze boring into you. "We have a decade to catch up on, after all."

You couldn't be imagined the darker undercurrent, the subtle heat behind his words and body language. This reunited friend dynamic was quickly veering into dangerous territory. Still, you found yourself nodding dumbly in agreement before he released you finally.

As you watched Hinata retreat back towards the moving truck, you realized with a start that he moved with the same fiery confidence and intensity he always radiated on the court - except this time, it was directed solely at you. A shiver ran down your spine at the implications.

What had once been an innocent reunion between childhood friends was rapidly becoming anything but. You didn't have the slightest clue just how obsessively Hinata's desires had been simmering underneath the surface for you all these years.

A few hours later, you found yourself standing at Hinata's door, your nerves a bundled mess of anticipation and trepidation. You had changed outfits twice, uncertain why you felt the need to put in any extra effort for hanging out with an old friend. But the simmering tension from earlier had you feeling uncharacteristically self-conscious.

Taking a steadying breath, you rapped your knuckles against the door. It opened almost immediately, as if Hinata had been waiting right on the other side. He greeted you with that same earth-shatteringly warm smile and ushered you inside.

"Make yourself at home! I just put the kettle on for some tea if you'd like."

You nodded, drinking in the neat but still half-unpacked surroundings. Pictures were already hung up - most showcasing Hinata's impressive volleyball accolades, but a few candid shots of the two of you together as kids. A pang of nostalgia hit you seeing your grinning young selves, so blissfully ignorant of what the years would bring.

"Those were the days, huh?" Hinata's deep voice rumbled beside your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

You jumped slightly, not realizing how close he had gotten without you noticing. He was radiating warmth like a furnace, his clean, crisp scent enveloping you and cranking up your pulse.

"Y-yeah, I can't believe how long it's been," you managed, hating how flustered you sounded.

Hinata held your gaze a beat too long, as if studying you, before thankfully the tea kettle's whistle pierced the tension. He flashed you another knee-weakening grin before brushing past you towards the kitchen, his arm grazing your side ever so lightly.

You sank onto the couch, trying to collect yourself as Hinata pottered about preparing the tea, seemingly oblivious to the effect he was having on you. This was just Hinata, your innocent best friend growing up...right? You had to be misreading the heated looks, the weighted silences, the proximity.

By the time he returned with two steaming mugs, placing one in your shaking hands, you had mostly regained your composure. Hinata took a seat beside you, his broad shoulders bumping against yours in the tight quarters. The smell of his intoxicating cologne clouded your senses again.

"So..." He took a long sip, those hauntingly amber eyes flickering over you from beneath his lashes. "What did I miss while I was gone?"

And so the two of you fell back into familiar banter and catching up, the years seeming to slip away with every laugh and anecdote shared. But you couldn't shake the feeling there was an underlying current of tension just beneath the surface - a raging storm of want and obsession Hinata could barely contain, no matter how friendly his words.

He hung on your every word, body angled towards you eagerly as you recounted pieces of your life since he'd been gone. You tried not to stare too openly at the way his toned forearms flexed as he gesticulated or how his shirt stretched deliciously across his muscular chest with each breath. This was torture in the sweetest way.

At one point, Hinata reached over to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering a beat too long and sending sparks ricocheting through you. His gaze had darkened an unmistakable few shades, pupils blown wide. You realized with a start your faces were mere inches apart, close enough for you to taste the lingering tea on his lips if you just...

The afternoon drifted by in a warm haze as you and Hinata continued catching up, swapping stories and reminiscing about old times. With each anecdote and laugh shared, you felt the lingering awkwardness dissipate as the familiar comfort and ease of your childhood friendship reasserted itself.

"Oh my god, do you remember the time we tried to camp out in your backyard?" Hinata chuckled, his eyes crinkling in that achingly nostalgic way. "We didn't even make it past 10 pm before you were crying because you thought you heard a bear!"

You gasped in mock indignation, swatting his arm. "I was 8 years old! Of course I was terrified! You're the one who insisted we could survive in the wilderness by ourselves."

"Hey, I still maintain we were doing pretty well until your dad came out and dragged us inside," he countered with a smirk.

Shaking your head at the memory, you couldn't stop the fond smile from stretching across your face. Those careless days of wandering the neighborhood and dreaming up adventures seemed like an entire lifetime ago now. An unexpected pang of wistfulness tugged at your heart seeing how much had changed - how much Hinata himself had changed into this ruggedly handsome man oozing quiet confidence.

As if reading your melancholic turn of thought, Hinata's expression softened almost imperceptibly. Reaching out, his thumb gently grazed your cheek, lingering on the cusp of something more intimate. You fought the urge to turn into his touch, to chase that fleeting connection.

"I missed you, you know," he murmured, molten eyes roving your features as if mapping every curve, every laugh line. "After we moved away, not a day went by I didn't think about you."

The raw honesty, the undisguised yearning in his voice made your breath hitch in your throat. What did he mean by that? You wanted to ask, suddenly hyperaware of the searing heat building between your bodies where your legs were pressed together on the couch.

Before you could find your words, Hinata dropped his hand, the moment breaking. He flashed you a brilliant smile, but you could have sworn you detected a fleeting look of frustration, of wanting more. But the instant was gone in a blink.

"Anyway," he said, clearing his throat. "Tell me more about what you've been up to recently! Any relationships I need to intimidate the guy over?"

And just like that, you found yourself diverted onto a new conversational path, the flirtatious tension fizzling out into easy banter once more. But you couldn't quite shake the feeling that something deeper, something hungrier lurked behind Hinata's every glance, every casual brush of contact between you two.

Part of you was afraid to give in and explore where this was leading, this dizzying chemical pull between you and your newly reformed friend. Another part wondered if you were imagining things, projecting some deeper meaning onto innocent friendliness.

But the largest part of you, the part that recognized the same blazing intensity from Hinata that used to set gymnasiums alight when he took the court...that part was purely intrigued to see just how far this obsession could go if you fanned the flames rather than backing away.

As the conversation continued to flow naturally between you two, you started to relax more into the familiar camaraderie. Hinata's boisterous energy and lack of filter were still very much intact, to your amusement.

"So then this rookie on the team tries to mess with me during practice," Hinata was saying animatedly, "Acting all cocky because he's some hotshot striker right out of university. But he doesn't realize who he's messing with!"

His eyes flashed with a competitive fire that made something stir low in your belly. You could easily envision the intimidating aura he must command on the court these days.

"Well, what happened next?" you prompted, leaning forward with rapt attention.

Hinata flashed you a wicked grin. "Let's just say he learned very quickly not to underestimate the flight patterns of my freak quick strikes."

There was an edge of cockiness, of arrogance coloring his deep voice that you had definitely never heard from him before. This supreme self-assuredness, this awareness of his own prowess was utterly intoxicating coming from the usually humble, sometimes bumbling boy you remembered.

"You should have seen the way he was gaping at me after I spiked that ball right past his face," Hinata continued, leaning back to throw an arm over the back of the couch behind you. "The look on his face was priceless."

His movement brought you two even closer together, close enough for the heady scent of his aftershave to cloud your senses. You tried not to visibly react as the back of his hand came to rest against the nape of your neck, sending tingles down your spine.

"I'll have to take you to one of my games sometime," he murmured, eyes darkening in a way that had nothing to do with the story he'd been telling. "I think you'd enjoy watching me hit the court...get a taste for my stamina and power up close."

The words seemed loaded with innuendo, dropping into the silence like lead weights strangling the air from the room. You swallowed thickly, frozen under the banked intensity of his stare. Was this really still just playful banter to him or was there an undeniable heat simmering behind those amber eyes?

Hinata leaned in a few hateful inches closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke in a low rumble. "I have a feeling you'd appreciate the view, among other things."

The implication in his tone was clear, setting your already heated skin aflame. This was not the innocent boy you had once played pretend with in your backyard. The man sitting before you now was all bravado and unrestrained desire barely contained beneath the surface.

Just as your mind began to reel, Hinata pulled back abruptly with a laugh, the spellbinding tension shattering. "But enough about me, what about you? Any hot dates or romantic prospects I should know about as your best friend?"

You could only gape at him, utterly thrown by theiplodic shift as he regarded you expectantly. Clearly this new Hinata was a master at skirting the line between propriety and inappropriate suggestion, holding you in a constant state of off-kilter want.

Part of you was uncomfortable with wherever this was leading, fearful of crossing boundaries you could never uncross with your childhood friend. But the other part, the growing part, was undeniably intrigued to call his bluff and finally unravel the obsessive beast you saw lurking beneath his careful words and heated stares.

Licking your lips, you managed to find your voice at last. "No, no one serious at the moment. But I'll be sure to let you know if that changes."

The blatant challenge glittered in your eyes, tossing the ball back into Hinata's court now. His pupils flared, a muscle feathering in his jaw as he studied you. It was clear the gauntlet had been thrown between you two - the only question was which of you would be the first to stop playing games and give in.

The charged tension continued to build between you and Hinata over the next few hours, every casual touch and weighted look laden with the promise of something more simmering just beneath.

His words became more boldly suggestive, clearly testing the boundaries to see how you would react. "You know, sometimes at night I still get flashes of the games we used to play as kids in your backyard," he mused at one point, amber eyes burning into you. "Except in my dreams, we were a little...older and the games became much more physical in nature."

You nearly choked on your drink, warmth flooding your cheeks. The blatant innuendo hung heavy in the air, daring you to either deflect or match his energy. Holding his heated stare, you replied evenly, "Is that so? I don't recall those kinds of games, but I'm certainly intrigued to learn the rules now."

A muscle flexed in Hinata's toned forearm where it rested on the back of the couch, the only visible sign of your words affecting him. His gaze darkened further, a low growl sounding in his throat that had your heartbeat thundering. For a moment, it seemed like the dam of restraint was about to break and he would finally act on the smoldering obsession written across every part of him.

But then the moment passed, that infuriatingly placid mask of friendly interest slipping back into place as if nothing had happened. "Well, maybe I'll have to show you sometime and refresh your memory," he said with a wink, so achingly casual.

The back and forth continued like this, each salacious comment and heated look slowly unraveling your nerves until finally you realized with a start that evening had begun creeping in through the windows.

"Oh wow, I didn't realize how late it had gotten," you murmured, disappointment and relief pooling in your chest. Part of you was grateful for the reprieve from the exquisite torture, while the other part ached to keep pushing to see how far Hinata would eventually take this.

"I should probably get going," you continued, standing up from the couch and trying not to look too affected. "But we'll have to do this again really soon, Shoyo. I've missed you."

You realized the truth in your own words as you said them. Despite the simmering tension and undercurrent of something darker lurking within Hinata, it felt so refreshingly wonderful to have your oldest friend back in your life again after all this time.

Hinata's expression softened at your parting words, something painfully tender flickering across his features before the hungry gaze returned. "Count on it. In fact..."

He rose as well, following you towards the door with those powerful, assured strides. You felt dwarfed beneath his towering height, pinned by the smoldering look he swept over your body. Reaching out, his calloused fingers grazed your arm, tracing upwards to curl around the back of your neck with unrestrained possessiveness.

Your breath hitched in your throat, trapped by the unyielding heat in his stare. He pulled you flush against the solid wall of his chest with a gentleness that somehow felt more frightening than outright aggression. You could feel every shuddering inhale, every thump of his hammering heart against your own ribcage.

"How about I walk you home?" Hinata husked, his lips a hair's breadth from yours now. "Make sure you get there safe?"

You could only mutely nod in acquiescence, all power of speech robbed by the delirious tension rapidly crescendoing around you both. His grip tightened ever so slightly against your nape, a clear undercurrent of possession in the deceptively simple request.

The walk back to your apartment building passed in a heated daze, the only sound your shaky breaths and the white noise roaring in your ears. Every nerve ending felt electrified under the weight of Hinata's domineering presence beside you. He was so close, the scent of his cologne and body heat making your head swim with visceral awareness of him.

When at last you reached your doorstep, you started to turn and bid him goodnight, but your words died on your lips as Hinata suddenly crowded you back against the door. His large palm slammed against the wood by your head with a bang, face ducking down to crash his lips against yours in a heated, untamed kiss.

A shocked gasp parted your lips, allowing his insistent tongue to delve deeper, staking its claim as he devoured you. You clutched the hard planes of his chest, knees turning to liquid at the unbridled desire, the feral obsession driving his fevered movements. This was not the chaste affection of childhood friends - this was a man's unyielding passion finding its voice at last.

Then, as abruptly as the searing kiss began, Hinata tore himself away. You slumped back against the door, chest heaving as if you'd just run a marathon, lips still tingling from the lingering heat of him. When you finally managed to pry your eyes open, Hinata was watching you with hooded eyes, body tense like a lion poised to pounce again.

But instead, he simply retreated a step backwards, the briefest flicker of a satisfied smirk playing across his swollen lips. "Goodnight, (Y/N)," he murmured in that deep, rasping timbre that had become your undoing. "Sleep well."

And with that, he turned and started back towards his apartment, leaving you a gasping, disheveled mess still slumped against your door in disbelief.

The next morning, you awoke feeling groggy and disoriented, as if emerging from some fevered dream. Fleeting fragments of memory ricocheted through your mind - the blazing heat of Hinata's kiss, the undeniable hunger in his touch, the gravelly timbre of his parting words that had you squirming restlessly through the night.

Surely that couldn't have been real...could it? Your fingers drifted up to ghost across your still-tingling lips, the phantom taste of him making a shiver chase down your spine. No, it was too visceral, too branded into your very bones to be anything but reality.

Which made Hinata's complete nonchalance when you finally ventured next door all the more confounding.

"Morning, sleepyhead!" he greeted you cheerfully after pulling open the door, seemingly oblivious to your rattled state. Not a single hair was out of place, every inch of him the picture of friendly affability, as if he hadn't ravaged you against that same door just hours before.

"I, uh, made some coffee if you want a cup?" he continued when you failed to respond, holding up the steaming mug in front of you. "Cream and sugar's on the counter."

You blinked dumbly, struggling to find your footing as Hinata brushed past you towards the kitchen, jostling your shoulder with his warmth. The familiar citrus notes of his body wash and subtle musk wafted over you, conspiring to make your head spin anew with half-remembered sensations.

Clearly seeing your frozen, flustered state, Hinata's brow furrowed slightly in concern as he regarded you. "You okay? You're looking a little...flushed."

His eyes slowly trailed down your body in an unhurried once-over, like a physical caress raising goosebumps across your heated skin. You fought not to squirm beneath that smoldering amber gaze, dark memories of its intensity looming over you threatening to unravel you completely.

Somewhere beneath the indifferent veil, you caught the brief flash of a knowing smirk playing across Hinata's full lips before it disappeared just as quickly.

"Sorry, I'm just...still waking up I guess," you managed to stammer out at last, averting your eyes.

"Well, wake up quickly then!" Hinata clapped you lightly on the shoulder, the innocent touch somehow loaded with suggestion. "I was thinking we could go on a hike together later and explore some of the old trails? For old time's sake."

His brilliant, sly grin was daring you to read between the lines. What fresh depravities might await you two alone on those "old trails"? The question hung unspoken but heavy between you as your tongue slicked unconsciously across your lower lip.

Hinata's eyes followed the movement hungrily, pupils flaring for the barest hint of a moment before regaining their innocuous sheen. Every part of him screamed he was a master at this game of plausible deniability.

"Only if you're feeling up for it, that is," he added smoothly, stepping close enough for his clean, heady scent to cloud your senses anew. A heavy-lidded look was cast your way, not quite a challenge but definitely dangling an unspoken promise of something more if you were brave enough to agree.

Your throat clicked in a dry swallow as you held his piercing gaze, vividly recalling the taste of his tongue in your mouth, the scorching brand of his hands on your body. There would be no going back once you stepped over this line with him, of that you were certain.

"You know what?" you murmured, leaning in until your lips were a hairsbreadth from brushing against the heated skin of his neck. You felt Hinata's pulse kick up in response, a low rumble vibrating from deep in his chest. "I think a nice long hike is exactly what I need to...clear my head."

As you pulled back, you allowed your eyes to trail brazenly down the corded lines of his throat, across the broad expanse of his chest, daring him to stop playing coy and claim what was rightfully his.

Hinata's eyes were molten fire, burning straight through what little restraint still remained between you two. There would be no more childish pining from afar or hollow games of making you wonder - this day in the wilderness would be about finally indulging the ravenous obsession that had simmered too long unchecked.

This time, there would be no going back to how things used to be. One way or another, you were about to get a firsthand taste of just how far Hinata's hunger for you could go when given the chance.

The hike started out innocuously enough, just two old friends exploring familiar trails and reminiscing about days gone by. The warm spring air and lush greenery surrounding you was almost enough to make you forget the raging wildfire of tension simmering between you and Hinata.

Almost, but not quite.

No matter how casual and lighthearted the conversation flowed, you were hyper-aware of every loaded glance, every "accidental" brush of contact searing straight through you. The memory of Hinata's searing kiss was branded into your very cells, stoking an insatiable yearning you hadn't felt in years.

You found yourself unable to meet his eyes for too long without getting lost in their molten depths, breath hitching at the banked intensity that promised so much more if you let it unfurl fully. Hinata seemed to revel in reducing you to a flustered wreck with little more than a heated stare or casual touch skating along your arm.

The atmosphere grew thicker the deeper you ventured into the secluded trails, a heavy silence blanketing you both as words fell away in favor of something else entirely. You could feel the obsessive pull between you cresting towards its inevitable peak.

It happened so fast when it finally snapped - one moment you were walking slightly ahead of Hinata on the narrow path, the next you felt a solid weight slamming into your back as he crowded you up against the nearest tree trunk. The breath punched from your lungs in a harsh gasp, but any noise was swallowed by Hinata's scorching kiss.

His large hands cradled your face in a punishingly tight grip, angling you backwards as he devoured you with the same unrestrained hunger from last night. You clutched the solid plates of his back as he pressed closer, the hard ridge of his cock grinding shamelessly against you.

There would be no preamble, no questioning what was happening between you two this time. The dam had finally burst and Hinata was claiming you as his obsession laid bare at last. When he finally wrenched his lips away with a guttural groan, you were both panting harshly.

"About damn time," was all he rasped out in that ruined timbre before crashing his mouth back against yours.

No more words needed to be exchanged after that. You simply gave yourself over to the onslaught of sensations - his calloused hands roaming hungrily, his hips rutting against you in primal undulations, his harsh pants scorching your neck as he blazed a trail of opened-mouth kisses downward.

Restraint and uncertainty shattered, nothing existed in this moment except for slaking the ravenous cravings that had smoldered between you both for far too long. Years of repressed obsession, of dark desires aching to be indulged, all came pouring out in a frenzy of tangled limbs and desperate caresses.

There would be no going back after this. You had awoken the unrestrained beast in Hinata and he was never letting you go again. But as his skilled fingers deftly divested you of your top and his solid weight pinned you to the forest floor, you found you had no single regret about succumbing so completely to his smoldering hunger.

The frenzied make-out rapidly descended into uncharted territory, hands grasping and exploring with reckless abandon as you both surrendered fully to the raging obsession. Hinata's broad frame was splayed over you, caging you against the forest floor as he rutted shamelessly into the cradle of your thighs.

You arched off the ground with a keening whine, nails raking down the corded muscles of his back as wet heat pooled between your legs. This was really happening - years of repressed yearning were about to finally find their release. Hinata growled deep in his chest, the scorching brand of his tongue searing its path along the slender column of your neck.

Just as you reached up to tug insistently at the hem of his shirt, desperate to divest the offending barrier and feel his searing skin against yours, Hinata suddenly froze. His harsh pants fanned across your flushed cheek as he drew back slightly, eyes glittering with some emotion you couldn't quite decipher.

Before you could even process what was happening, he rolled off of you in one abrupt, fluid movement. The sudden lack of his solid weight crushed you with its absence, leaving you splayed out and utterly wrecked on the forest floor as he rose to tower over you.

You could only gape up at him, chest heaving rapidly from your entwined state moments before. Hinata simply stood there drinking in the sight of you so thoroughly disheveled, eyes blazing with something that looked a lot like triumph etched across his sharp features.

After allowing the weighted silence to stretch tortuously, he bent down to retrieve your discarded top, holding it out to you without a single word. It was like emerging from a fever dream, the abrupt shift disorienting you even further.

You felt heat prickling across your skin as you shakily accepted the offered garment, struggling to cover your breasts with shaking hands. Hinata didn't so much as bat an eyelash, merely turning on his heel and continuing along the trail as if nothing had happened.

"You coming?" he tossed over his nonchalant shoulder after a few paces, as casual as could be.

Still sprawled there in stunned disbelief, you could only stare after him, mouth agape at the whiplash shift. Part of you was mortified at being left utterly debauched on the forest floor. But the larger part, the part that recognized a deliciously depraved game when you saw one, felt a reckless thrill starting to build.

So that was how Hinata wanted to play things - all heated frenzy one moment only to leave you aching and unfulfilled the next with that stoic nonchalance. Well, two could undoubtedly play at that game if that was the case.

Scrambling the rest of the way into a standing position, you hastened to follow after his retreating form. If Hinata thought he could get away with teasing you to the brink like that without some delightfully torturous form of retaliation, he had another thing coming.

By the time you managed to catch up, his expression was a mask of polite obliviousness, the smoldering heat from earlier carefully banked once more. Only the slightest quirk at the corner of his lips hinted that he was well aware of the effect he'd had on you.

"Lovely day for a hike, isn't it?" was all he said, smiling beatifically as you fell into step beside him.

You shot him a sidelong look, letting your eyes deliberately trail down the distinct bulge still tenting the front of his shorts. That innocent facade wouldn't last long once you decided to enact your vengeance, of that you were certain.

"The perfect day," you agreed lightly, gaze skating back up to meet his heavy-lidded stare.

Let the games begin.

The thick tension lingered heavily between you and Hinata in the days following your hike, neither of you acknowledging or discussing what had transpired on the secluded trail. You went about your routines and conversations as normal, but the undercurrent of unresolved desire simmered with every lingering glance and casual touch that felt electric.

Finally, you decided to invite Hinata over for a home-cooked dinner at your place a few nights later, hoping to find some release from the maddening tension. He arrived with that same nonchalant ease, not a hair out of place, as if he hadn't ravaged you against a tree trunk just days prior.

Dinner itself flowed smoothly, the two of you slipping back into familiar banter and catching up. But you didn't miss the way Hinata's piercing stare trailed over your body when he thought you weren't looking, or how his large hands seemed to linger whenever he passed you something.

"You know, I haven't stopped thinking about what happened on that trail," Hinata said abruptly during a lull in conversation. His tone was conversational, but the smoldering look he fixed you with was anything but casual.

You felt your throat go dry under his heated appraisal. "Oh? And what's there to think about?" you managed to reply, keeping your expression carefully neutral despite your rabbiting pulse.

Hinata's lips curved into the barest hint of a smirk, clearly seeing through your nonchalance. He leaned in closer, braced forearms on the table bringing his face mere inches from yours as he lowered his voice to an intimate rumble.

"Don't play coy, you know exactly what I mean. I meant it when I said I've been waiting years for that moment, to finally get my hands on you like I've craved."

His words struck you like a physical caress, raising goosebumps along your heated skin as you fought not to squirm. The raw honesty, the undisguised obsession burning in Hinata's molten gaze made your head spin.

"I've fantasized about you more times than I can count," he continued in that same low timbre laden with promise. "Imagining what you'd look like splayed out underneath me, writhing and whimpering for more while I took you apart piece by piece."

You swallowed hard, suddenly regretting trying to maintain pretenses of normalcy between you two. This clearly was anything but a normal situation – the powerful, athletic man before you was practically vibrating with years' worth of repressed hunger and fixation.

"So no, I haven't stopped thinking about finally claiming what's mine," Hinata concluded, holding your stare captive with smoldering intensity. "And I won't stop until I've had my fill, until you recognize you've belonged to me all along whether you realized it yet or not."

There was no questioning his blunt words, no interpreting the blatant obsession and dark undercurrents driving him now. Hinata had been pushed to the brink, and he was done with subtlety. You were his all-consuming fixation, the object of his ultimate hunger.

And from the way his hooded eyes trailed over your lips, he was making it abundantly clear he had no intentions of stopping until that appetite was finally sated, no matter how long it took.

The heavy silence stretched between you and Hinata, the weight of his ardent confession hanging thick in the air. His burning stare pinned you in place, demanding a reaction even as your brain struggled to process his blunt words and undeniable obsession.

Before you could formulate a response, Hinata abruptly shoved away from the table and closed the distance between you in two long strides. Powerful arms encircled your waist, hauling you flush against the searing wall of his chest as he captured your lips in a scorching, desperate kiss.

You made a muffled noise of surprise against his mouth, but it quickly melted into undisguised want as the dizzying heat of him overwhelmed your senses. This time there was no restraint, no coy suggestion - just Hinata taking with the same unrestrained obsession he had promised.

His large hands roamed hungrily over your curves, bunching the fabric of your top as he angled your head to deepen the frenzied kiss. You clutched at the straining muscles of his back, whimpering at the solid planes you could feel flexing beneath your palms with each roll of his hips grinding shamelessly against you.

Hinata's harsh growl of approval vibrated against your lips before he seized the opportunity to lick inside, tasting and claiming you with fervent sweeps of his tongue. You melted helplessly back against the solid oak of the table digging into your lower back, utterly at his mercy.

There would be no more feigned nonchalance, no more skirting the issue driving this raging obsession between you two. Not when you could feel the undeniable ridge of Hinata's arousal rutting against your pelvis, or the wet heat of him leaving a searing trail down the vulnerable column of your neck.

"Hinata...we shouldn't—ah!" Whatever feeble protest you tried to voice was swallowed by his searing mouth devouring you once more.

"Don't try to deny this, don't try to pretend this hasn't been leading here all along," he all but growled when he finally tore his lips away, pinning you captive with eyes blazing like molten amber. "I'm done with games and holding back. You're mine, whether you can admit it to yourself yet or not."

His calloused fingers deftly worked at the buttons of your top, divesting you of the garment in one smooth tug as he bared your tingling flesh to his smoldering gaze. You shuddered, suddenly hyper-aware of how exposed and vulnerable you were beneath his ravenous stare.

But any shred of self-consciousness was forgotten the next instant as Hinata dipped his head, fevered mouth searing a path downwards across your flushed chest. Your breath stuttered in your lungs as he reached the peak of your breast, suckling hard enough to leave a mark before soothing the sting with his tongue.

You couldn't contain the moan that spilled from your lips, the visceral pleasure and aching heat too intense to remain silent. Hinata rumbled his approval, calloused hands gripping your hips in a punishing hold as he continued his relentless onslaught.

The searing trail he blazed over your trembling body was unrelenting, leaving a map of open-mouthed kisses and love bites in his wake. His teeth nipped at the soft flesh of your stomach, followed by the soothing swipe of his tongue and then the graze of his nose as he inhaled your scent.

Every sense was drowning in him - the searing heat of his palms, the heady citrus notes of his cologne, the low growls emanating from deep in his chest as he slowly drove you mad with sensation.

You could feel the throbbing ache growing between your thighs, the telltale dampness soaking your panties. There was no disguising your arousal from him now, no pretending the raw desire coursing through your veins was anything less than the truth.

Hinata was a man possessed, his fixation driving him onward as he dropped to his knees, yanking down your leggings and underwear in one smooth movement. You felt a rush of cool air hit your exposed center, the sudden vulnerability sending a shockwave of goosebumps rippling across your heated skin.

The breath punched from your lungs as Hinata surged forward, burying his face between your legs without warning. You cried out, head dropping back with a thunk against the unforgiving wood of the table as pleasure jolted through you.

He wasted no time, licking a broad stripe up your center before suckling on your clit, making your knees buckle beneath you. All you could do was clutch the short strands of his hair for purchase, gasping and keening with every sweep of his talented tongue.

Hinata seemed just as lost in the frenzy as you, grunts of pleasure reverberating through your very core as he devoured you whole. You could feel his strong arms gripping your hips, pinning you in place while his thumbs rubbed soothing circles over your hipbones.

The sight of him kneeling before you, head buried between your thighs and feasting on your wet cunt with single-minded determination was too much. The white-hot pleasure rapidly crested, threatening to send you hurtling over the edge at any moment.

Your moans grew louder, fingers tightening in Hinata's hair as your climax neared. You felt his lips curve into a smirk against your slick flesh, clearly recognizing how close you were. Then, just as your entire body was coiled tight as a bowstring, poised to snap, Hinata withdrew.

"Wha—why did you stop?" you panted out in a whine, hips canting forward in desperation.

You were so achingly close, could feel the phantom pressure of his tongue where it had just been. You were right on the cusp, teetering on the edge. One more swipe of his skilled tongue and you would have tumbled over.

"Because," Hinata purred, his warm breath ghosting over your throbbing cunt and making you shudder, "there’s no way in hell I'm letting you come unless it's on my cock."

With that, he rose from his knees, dragging his tongue along the column of your throat. You whimpered, the loss of contact making you ache even worse than before. Then Hinata's lips were back against yours, hot and insistent, and you tasted yourself on his tongue.

You groaned, fingers fumbling to tear at the buttons of his shirt and push the offending garment off his shoulders. Hinata made a rumbling noise of approval deep in his chest, calloused fingers tangling in your hair and tilting your head back to deepen the kiss.

The moment his shirt fell away, exposing the hard planes of his sculpted torso, you were clawing at the waistband of his jeans. You wanted him, needed him, craved the feeling of his throbbing cock splitting you open.

Your frenzied movements had him chuckling, the deep sound sending another shiver racing down your spine. But Hinata was just as far gone, his large hands grasping yours and helping to yank down his pants and boxers in one smooth motion.

The sight of his erect cock, swollen and throbbing with precum glistening at the tip, had your mouth going dry. Your eyes trailed down the hard lines of his stomach, taking in the rest of his powerful body. The faint trail of hair leading downwards, the sculpted v-lines that were a roadmap to the most delicious places on earth, and his thick cock standing proud and ready for you.

Hinata growled deep in his throat, seizing your hips in a punishing grip and hoisting you onto the edge of the table. Your thighs parted automatically, a whimper falling from your lips at the rough manhandling.

Then the thick head of his cock was nudging against your slick folds, not quite pushing in but still driving you wild with anticipation. His thumb guided the fat tip along your slit, rubbing it in small circles as he let it dip slightly inside, teasing you with the promise of what was to come.

He was watching your face with such rapt intensity, his pupils blown wide and nostrils flaring with every shaky inhale. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, the corded muscles of his stomach twitching and flexing. He was just as lost in the sensation as you were, his self-control slipping the more his cock slid through your folds.

You could feel your arousal coating his thick length, slicking him up with each pass. Hinata's breaths were coming quicker now, his eyelids fluttering and his head dropping forward as he ground his cock along your aching center.

He was right on the cusp, his hips moving erratically. He was trying to hold back, to maintain his composure and tease you even longer. But you could see the cracks starting to show in his mask of restraint, could see how much he was struggling to hold himself back.

Just when the tension was about to snap, Hinata reached down, grasping his cock at the base and giving it a few rough pumps. His eyes rolled back in his head, a deep groan of pleasure rumbling through his chest as he came.

Thick ropes of cum painted your stomach and breasts, dripping down his fist as his cock pulsed and twitched in his grip.

It was so fucking hot, so depraved, to have Hinata's release marking your body, to know you had driven him to this level of ecstasy.

He gave a shuddering gasp, eyelids fluttering open as the last dregs of his orgasm washed over him. The look of utter satisfaction on his face as he took in the mess he'd made of you, the possessive gleam in his eye as he raked his gaze over your body, was enough to have you aching and needy all over again.

You watched on curiously as he reached over to grab his phone, aiming the camera at you. Your mouth went dry at the realization of what he was doing, a jolt of pleasure rushing through you at the thought.

"Don't move," Hinata murmured, voice heavy with satisfaction and desire. "I want to remember this moment for the rest of my life. You don’t know how many times I've fantasized about this, how often I've jerked myself raw thinking of you covered in my cum."

The click of the camera captured the moment forever, the proof of your mutual debauchery immortalized on the screen. His lips curved into a sinful smirk, eyes flicking up to meet yours.

"My turn," he growled.

In the next instant, he had you pinned back against the table, his weight settling on top of you as his tongue dragged through the mess on your stomach. You whimpered, fingers tangling in his hair and hips canting upwards to seek out some kind of relief.

Hinata hummed his approval, lapping up every last drop of his release before shifting further upward, licking and nipping his way across your heaving chest.

His cock was already hard again, pulsing and grinding against your soaked folds. The heat of him was searing, setting your body ablaze with pleasure. He was teasing you, torturing you, his lips sucking a dark bruise along the sensitive skin of your neck.

"You know," he murmured, hips rolling in an unhurried pace, his words a rumble against your ear, "I could get used to this view."

A strangled moan escaped your lips as his cockhead notched against your entrance, the heady promise of release just within reach. Hinata was still teasing you, dragging his shaft along your soaked slit as his lips grazed the shell of your ear.

"But if I'm going to keep fucking you on this table, I need to make sure you won't spill any leftovers."

You could feel his lips curve into a smirk, the barest hint of a chuckle vibrating through his chest. But you were too far gone, too lost in the sensation of his thick cock sliding through your folds and grazing your throbbing clit.

Your entire body was tensed like a bowstring, wound up so tightly that the slightest movement would snap it. And when Hinata finally, finally, pushed his thick cock inside you, the string snapped.

You cried out, arching off the table as stars exploded behind your eyelids. Pleasure unlike anything you'd ever experienced washed over you in waves, your cunt spasming around the solid girth stretching you open. You felt the foreign sensation of something liquid gushing from your pussy, coating Hinata's cock and your inner thighs.

"Fuck," Hinata hissed, his head dropping to your shoulder. "Did you just squirt? You didn’t tell me you were a squirter, fuck, that's so fucking hot."

He sounded almost drunk, his words slurred as he started thrusting into you. Each pump of his hips had another wave of pleasure crashing over you, your body convulsing and clenching around his cock.

Hinata fucked you through the aftershocks, his hips slamming into you and driving his cock impossibly deep. Your hands scrabbled at his shoulders, fingernails digging into the straining muscles as you held on for dear life.

He was relentless, pounding into you and chasing his own release. The wet sounds of his cock sliding in and out of your cunt, the harsh slap of his balls against your ass, the groans and grunts escaping his throat – all of it only heightened the sensations overwhelming your body.

Your eyes rolled back in your head, a string of curses falling from your lips as the pressure built once again. This time you knew you wouldn't be able to hold back, wouldn't be able to keep from exploding into a million pieces.

The tension was coiling tighter, your body trembling as Hinata fucked you harder. It was too much, the pleasure was too intense, it was almost painful. You were so close, you were almost there, you just needed a little more, a little—

"Oh god," you cried, your body arching off the table as your cunt clenched around his cock, gushing another flood of liquid.

Hinata let out a growl, his thrusts becoming more erratic. You could feel his cock pulsing and twitching, his breathing ragged and uneven. He was right there with you, his own climax building.

"That's it," he rasped, his grip on your hips bruising as he slammed into you. "Fuck, I can feel your cunt milking my cock, fuck, fuck, fuck—"

With a final cry, his hips stuttered and he came, his cock spurting ropes of cum deep inside you. The sensation of his hot release filling you up, the feeling of his cock pulsing and twitching as he emptied himself, was enough to send you over the edge again.

Your orgasm tore through you, your body convulsing and gushing around his cock. The pleasure was so intense, it was almost painful. You could feel his cum leaking out of you, running down your thighs and soaking the table beneath you.

"God, I love watching you squirt," Hinata growled, his eyes half-lidded as he watched his release leak from your cunt. "I could do this all day, watch you cream all over my cock and soak this table. You're so fucking hot."

You could only moan, your body completely spent and limp from the intensity of your orgasms. Hinata pulled out, his softening cock slipping from your pussy with a wet squelch. More cum leaked from your cunt, dribbling down your thighs.

He scooped some up with his fingers, pushing it back inside you with a satisfied smirk. You shuddered, the feeling of his cum inside you making your cunt clench around his digits.

"Mmm, we're gonna need to do a lot more work to make sure none of this leaks," he purred, his other hand trailing over your stomach and smearing the remnants of his release into your skin. "We can't let any of this go to waste, now can we?"

You whimpered, his words and touch sending sparks of pleasure through you. He chuckled, his fingers slowly pumping in and out of your cum-filled pussy.

"That's right," he murmured, leaning down to capture your lips in a scorching kiss. "Let's see just how many times I can make you squirt before the night's over."

[sukunas-wife]

Sealed 2

1 3

“Year after year after year the hours pass and it never ends, I’ve been here for millennia is Ryomen even trying?” You sat down onto the pile of bones, skeletons supporting you the best they could. The Prison Realm had become your domain, you’d molded every bone and skeleton to do your work. Your elbow resting on the spine of skeleton your cheek pressing against your fist as you stared bored.

Looking down the pile of bones and skeletons holding up your throne that you had formed to match Sukuna’s you saw two Skeletons battling for your amusement. Sighing you slouched back in your throne, watching the two headed four armed skeleton using sharpened bones as spears, fighting a towering 6 armed Skelton. His arms like vices ready to grab and shove whatever into its gaping rib cage to crush it. “This needs more!” The two skeletons looked up at you, before the rumbling of the skeletal centaur could be heard, a centaur of bone, his torso with 4 arms, it held an extended spine as if it were a chain. Lower two arms ready to grab at anything, more specifically rip off the head and spine of its opponents.

“YES! THIS IS what we need!” You smacked the skeleton who stood near you on the back. His bones shaking as you leaned forward, you’d find out soon which of your creations was truly the strongest. “Let’s get this show started-“ it was quick blur of red and black before you were standing head tilted to the side as you stared irked at the man in front of you. “Do YOU KNOW WHAT YOU JUST DID.”

“PLEASE FORGIVE ME! I BEG FOR MERCY I SPENT MUCH OF MY LIFE LOOKING FOR THIS TREASURE THATS BEEN hidden away heating the tales of how the sourcerer’s of old time had wrongly imprisoned a Diety of Fertility separating her from her son. I just come to beg and ask you give my wife your blessing to have a child were old in age but she’s always prayed and begged. I’ve run out of hope until i heard you tale, i beg and hoped you’d have mercy- Sit up” was all you said. The man went from groveling to sitting back on his heels. Sighing the conflict inside of you was great. You looked around tucking your arms into the sleeves of your worn Kimono. “Bring me your wife,” you looked up through the canopy of the trees you see the sun at mid day, “you have two sunsets and then I leave.” The man quickly bowed again at your feet thanking you before running off. You kicked the prison realm box “Damnit who won!” You snatched it up, the air was familiar, you started to look around. The reason it was so familiar was because it wasn’t to far from where you had been sealed. The skeletal remains of the sourcerers made you seethe. You found the remains of the man who sealed you grabbing his skull with your free hand making it look at you, “my child my husband,” you crushed it without fail, “you took it all from me and now everyone will pay.” Th tears falling down were hot. Dropping the remains you started your first technique “Reanimate.” A wave of purple radiated from you, hitting every border of the palace. Skeletal remains shaking and coming together to stand, “Get this place back into shape.” They started moving, you made your way inside the palace the inside help had been reanimated also, your ladies in waiting now remains, standing beside you as you enter “Find fabric I need new robes.” They rushed off and you made it to your old room, the massive bed your son had fallen off many times when he would try to sleep with you and his dad. The wardrobe filled with your husband’s old robes. The room was dusty and smelt humid, shoving the window open you tried not to cry, on the window sill was a talisman Sukuna had created for Yuji. Sniffling you turned your head, finding a small blanket and stuffed Tiger doll Yuji carried around that morning. A gift for his 2nd birthday that he loved and it showed on the tigers rugged appearance.

“My Yuji..” your faint whisper sounding so loud in the silence as you ran your fingers of the stuffed doll holding it close to your chest as you made your way around the room planning your moves. Your plans had always been to follow in similar steps to Sukuna. Except that you’d be known for good to balance out the evil perspective they had of your husband. First, fix your palace. Second, create miracles in the closest town or village to make profit and move into a bigger city to improve profits. Find wherever Sukuna had been sealed away, and break him free. Find Yuji and take him back from this cruel world.

❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️

It’s been over 100 more years and you’d grown accustomed to the changing in technology and times, passing the crowds into your shrine you smiled ruffling the heads of kids who smiled up at you, rubbing the plump bellies of pregnant women you passed and “blessing” the sick with instant health with simply laying a hand on them and smiling kindly.

Entering your shrine for the last time your Gentlemen in waiting was packing up what was left. The last thing left was the main room where your wide throne sat, you’d be leaving it being to your followers, the cushions you provided for your followers during your sessions. “Morí.” You called out and he came from the room he was in bowing and holding his hands out in front of him. “Yes Lady Y/n?”

“Morinozuka, we’re leaving tonight to Sendai City. The mark of my binding vow is burning more, but are you sure that’s where we need to go?”

“Yes Lady Y/n.” He spoke not looking up from his bow. You nodded, “then it’s final.”

❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️

“So this is the place?” You turned to Morí and he nodded. “It’s not as lavish but this is the closest we can get… Your excellency.. I strongly recommend you continue to hide your cursed energy until I suggest otherwise.” You nodded getting out of the car “Very well, I will.”

It was morning when you had arrived, standing in front of the door to the house you looked over an elder man was walking out of his house he looked over and you smiled at him and he had a very faint twitch of his lip. Until a man with pink hair came out, follows by a woman with black hair and you felt it. The pulse of cursed energy and instinctively you grabbed Mori by his robes and pulled him towards you, “That woman, she’s no woman that- is the carrier of your child.” You head snapped instantly to him, “The father of my child, that’s the sorcerer who knew Sukuna, and he is going to mother my child?” Your face showing your exact emotions Mori placing a hand over yours, “Lady Y/n, please recollect your thoughts. I can assure you he will NOT be mothering your child, and her husband will not be fathering him either.” Letting go of his robes you nodded. Looking over your shoulder you watched the couple get into a car the elder man scowling when they started to drive away.

Turning to look at you he tucked his arms behind his back walking over, “Good Morning I’m L/n Y/n.” You greeted bowing after you moved closer, he dismissed you with a wave of your hand. “Morning, Wasuke Itadori.” He cocked a brow and looked over at your house, “It’s been up for sale for a long time. Almost 3 years before someone has moved in.” You looked back at your house, “I moved in to get closer to work. I thought it was just a blessing for everything to line up so perfectly.”

He nodded, “Well, blessings only go so far here. My son’s wife is something I’d consider to be a curse.” You nodded, “oddly enough I wouldn’t disagree. I know a snake when I see one and from a brief glance I wouldn’t trust her at all.”

He nodded, “Have a good day moving in, if you need help my son and his wife will be returning soon. I’m sure either of them would be willing to help with any problems.”

“Have a good day Mr.Itadori.” You bowed your head slightly and you both went separate ways.

“Mori,” you sighed entering your house “count these days.”

[chosok-amo]

MY BOY SUCH A PRETTY CRIER : GOJO SATORU

my boyfriend has the prettiest eyes,” . . . you love your boyfriend— gojo satoru's eyes, you always have, until you see him crying for the first time, and you can't help but need to see those eyes, glisten with tears, every chance you get.

warning. obsessive! gojo satoru, established relationship, mentioned of suicide, blood mention, obsessive reader, slight dark, toxic! reader.

wc. 6,6k ( art belong to the artist, devider belong to cafekitsune )

it's glisten...

gojo satoru's blue, azure irises glisten under the moonlight like little twinkling stars, silking with his tears. you were mesmerized and for a moment your erotic movement stammered, slower, slower, slower . . . and stopped. it hurt your chest, your lung, like the air just got reap by fingers with pointed nails, or razor-sharped teeth, you named it.

you gasp for air, holding them down inside your reaped lungs. it's suffocating, how his eyes make you feel. and suddenly, you can feel everything, your senses sharpen— the way his heart is beating like thunder underneath your palms, cocoon by his ribcage, the way his girth, his throbbing girth twitching inside you.

“baby...” he breathlessly calls you.

gojo's nail digging is dullest to your chubby rear, silently begging you to move and get back to work, but no.. you stay silent for a moment, drowning in his blue eyes you never realize as blue as the ocean, as deep as one before. you always knew it was pretty, but never as this pretty, it's breathtaking, it's soul-sucking, it's. . . gut wrenching, pain, because you will never have eyes like his, you will never, ever, find eyes like his with other men, other person.

“beautiful..” you whisper.

your trembling hand gently makes its way to kiss his cheek, thumb dancing across the skin to push away the tears selfishly. only you, it's only you who can get this close to his eyes, it is you.

“you are so beautiful,” soft, breathless whisper kissing your lips before you lean closer, skin to skin with his forehead. it was crystal clear, his eyes. . . so celar you can read his mind through it, see his soul laid bare, feel his blood and his heart beating faster each second- looking straight at you like its ready to burst his ribcage open nad run to you with all the blood, the flesh, even the bone.

one blink, two blink, and three blink it takes gojo to clear the glisten effect on his eyes, letting the last tears fall freely down to his cheeks. a small frown makes its way to your forehead, so you found your hips moving slowly, your glisten clit grinding against gojo's skin, his cock twitching and soft moan leaving his pink, swollen lips.

soft mean tear from your throat, past your lips the moment tears flooded in gojo's eyes. “don't close your eyes, baby,” you whisper, like a witch chanted a mantra. gojo nod eagerly, bewitched by you. it was sinister, your smile, drowning in love and something more. the look on your beautiful face, the one where gojo never saw. he was mesmerize with the way you look at him. how your eyes practically sparkling, your cheeks blushing madly, your eyes glue to him like he is the center of your world, and gojo was doomed.

after that unforgettable night, you find yourself completely immersed in the depth of gojo’s eyes, as if drawn into a boundless ocean of their beauty. every nuance of their color becomes an intricate tapestry that you cannot help but unravel. imagine, if you will, the way his eyes might transform under the tender embrace of a sunset, their natural brilliance kissed by hues of molten gold and soft amber, weaving a breathtaking symphony of warmth and light.

“hey, baby,” his voice drifts softly, like a breeze stirring you from the quiet of your thoughts, his words threading through the haze that clouds your mind.

you blink once, then twice, and a third time, as if awakening from a dream spun of shadows and whispers, until your gaze finds his—those eyes, blue as a restless sea, now roiling with a tempest of fury. it’s a sight that steals the breath from your lungs, a depthless anger that crashes like waves against the shores of his calm, threatening to sweep you away. his stare is fierce, wild. . . cannibalism lookalike even, and you feel something shift within you, a fullness that blooms in your chest, heavy and warm. his palm, cold against your flushed skin, cradles your cheek, and you lean into his touch, drawn like a moth to flame, craving the chill that soothes the heat of your racing heart.

his knuckles, adorned in the brutal artistry of bruises, are stained with the blood of those who dared to lay hands upon you, each mark a testament to the violence he’s wrought in your name. once again, his knuckles, oh, they are a map of violence—a testament to the ruin he hath wrought upon those foolish enough to lay a hand upon what he cherishes most: you, oh you. . . the love of his life.. bruises bloom like dark violets upon his skin, and the crimson of blood lingers, a stark reminder of his ferocity, his unrelenting need to protect, to possess, to guard you as fiercely as the lion doth its pride.

they bear the story of his wrath, of a love so vehement it spills over into rage, uncontained and ferocious. he stands as a fortress, unyielding and unbreakable, a sentinel who guards not with words but with fists and fury, and in his eyes, you see a promise—a vow that none shall harm you and live to see the sun again. his touch, a chilled caress upon your cheek, pulls you closer still, and you lean into it, seeking solace in the coolness of his palm, a balm against the heat of his wrath.

“baby, are you alright?” he asks, his voice a deep, soft rumble that vibrates through your very bones, soothing and stirring all at once. it washes over you, a tide that pulls you under, and suddenly your legs betray you, trembling beneath the weight of it all, the sheer intensity of his presence. you feel yourself melt, your knees weak, the world spinning as if gravity has turned traitor, and you begin to sink. but he is there, always there, swift and sure, catching you in the safety of his embrace, his strong arms wrapping around your trembling form, pulling you flush against the solid heat of his chest.

“please, hold me,” you whisper, voice barely a breath, still lost in the storm that rages within his gaze. there’s a desperation in your plea, a need to be held, to be anchored amidst the chaos that threatens to drown you both. his hold tightens, as if he could fuse you to him, make you one with his own flesh and bone, and you feel the world steady under the weight of his arms. his scent, warm and familiar, envelops you, a heady mix of comfort and danger that sends a shiver racing down your spine.

there is an obsession in the way he looks at you now, an all-consuming need that borders on madness, a love that knows no bounds, no reason, no restraint. for in that gaze, you are not merely seen—you are worshipped, adored, the very center of his universe, hell, you are a god to gojo satoru. his eyes, burning with the light of a thousand suns, speak not of mere affection but of a devotion so profound that it eclipses all else. every breath you take, every beat of your heart, is caught up in the maelstrom of his love, swirling endlessly in the vortex of his gaze.

he holds you so close, close enough that you can feel the rhythm of his heartbeat, a fierce, steady drum that matches the frantic cadence of your own. your hands find their way around his neck, fingers threading through the silken strands of his hair, pulling him closer, closer, until there is no space left between you. your lips meet his in a fervent kiss, a clash of need and hunger, tongues dancing in a tangled, breathless frenzy. it is a kiss that speaks of survival, of gratitude, of a love that is both a sanctuary and a storm.

he tastes like fury and devotion, a bitter-sweetness that lingers on your tongue, and you drink him in, greedy for more. his grip on you is unrelenting, as if letting go would mean losing you to the abyss of his own making, and you cling to him with equal fervor, your bodies a tangled mess of limbs and longing. in that moment, there is no past, no future—only the now, the heady rush of his breath mingling with yours, the feel of his hands on your skin, the unspoken promises that pass between you with every stolen breath.

he holds you as if you are the very air he breathes- well, indeed you are, as if he could will you into his soul and keep you there, keeping warm and alive unthe the flesh of his ribcage, close to his heart, safe and cherished, forevermore. his eyes, still brimming with that furious fire, soften at the edges as he kisses you back with a reverence that makes your heart ache. it’s a kiss that binds, that claims, that seals you to him in a way that words never could, and as you pull away, breathless and dazed, you know that this is where you belong—wrapped in his arms, lost in the depths of his gaze, loved with a passion that burns brighter than the stars.

when he pulls away, a thin, glistening thread of desire still lingers, stretching between your parted lips over the tongue—a tether that binds you in this shared breath, this dangerous dance. his gaze meets yours, those blue eyes still ablaze with a furious tempest, but within their storm, there flickers a flame of love, fierce and unyielding. he looks down at you, a twisted smile curling at his lips, a grin that speaks of chaos and carnage, of a madness that holds the world at bay. “i'm sorry those fools dared to lay hands upon you, but they will trouble you no more, my love,” he murmurs, voice low and threaded with menace, a vow spoken with a lover’s gentleness yet edged in steel. his hands, calloused and sure, cup your cheeks, cradling you as though you are the most precious, fragile thing in all the realms.

together, you both cast your gaze down upon the bodies sprawled upon the cold, unforgiving ground, their forms marred by bruises and the remnants of his wrath. they lie there, wet and lifeless as fallen leaves, scattered by the tempest of his fury, no longer a threat but mere echoes of their own folly. and yet, even amidst the wreckage of his rage, there is a strange beauty in the chaos he has wrought—a dark symphony of love and violence, a tribute to his devotion, twisted and true.

“come, let me take you home, my love,” he murmurs once more, the words a soft caress against your skin, as his lips find yours in a kiss that seals the promise of his protection. you are stunned, breathless, and your eyes glisten with a fervor that matches his own—a wild, consuming adoration for the man before you, this maniacal figure who stands between you and the world. to love him is to dance on the edge of a blade, a perilous waltz that thrills and terrifies in equal measure.

you look up at him, smiling so, so, so sweetly, mirror the same menace, at satoru gojo, your beautiful, dangerous obsession, and your heart swells with a love so potent it feels as if it might burst from your chest. it is sick, this mutual madness that binds you, a passion laced with peril and an affection born of fury. he is a storm wrapped in human form, a threat to all that dares to stand in his path, yet to you, he is a haven, a divine madness that sets your soul alight.

his eyes—ah, those orbs of azure fire! they are the boundless seas wherein your soul doth drown a thousand times. in calmer tides you have known them—playful, serene, a gentle mirth that sparkles like sunlight upon the morn’s dew. yet now, behold, they blaze with tempest’s fury, aflame with wrath as the heavens in their ire. 'tis as though the very stars have kindled rage within those depths, a storm that seethes and seizes all that dare to meet its gaze. and in that wild and furious tempest, you, undone, do find your heart ensnared anew, aflutter as a wanton moth to flame.

for every glance he grants, each furious flicker of those eyes, doth pull you deeper still, till all the world is but a distant whisper, and you are lost—utterly, wholly—in the unfathomable blue of his gaze. to see him thus, to feel his ire burn not at you but for you, sets your blood to riotous fervor, and lo, your cheeks do bloom with that sweet crimson of youth’s first fond blush. oh, what madness is this! to love so fiercely, to find in rage a tender, quiet adoration that makes you very breath catch, your heart sing out its foolish tune of love renewed.

his eyes are not mere mirrors of his soul; they are the very tempest that doth rage within his breast, a tumult of love and wrath entwined. 'tis a sight both fearsome and fair, for in his fury lies the pledge of his protection, a devotion that doth border upon the divine. how can i resist? his gaze is your sun, your moon, your guiding star, and you, poor wretch, are but a humble worshipper at the altar of his gaze. to see him thus, to know his anger burns for you, not against you, is to be wrapped in the warm embrace of his fiercest love.

aye, 'tis true—each time those eyes, so fierce, so wild, do meet your own, your heart doth flutter as a captive bird newly freed. in those depths, you see not just the fury of the storm, but the quiet promise of a love that will not fade, that will not falter. it is obsession, a fire that consumes and yet does not destroy, but rather, sanctifies. and so you fall, endlessly, hopelessly, into that blue abyss, where anger and love are but two sides of the same coin, where you are his, and he is yours, and the world may be damned, so long as his eyes remain your haven, your undoing, your everlasting delight.

in his arms, you are both prisoner and queen, worshipped in the sanctuary of his embrace, held aloft by the sheer force of his adoration. it is a love that defies reason, a devotion that flirts with destruction, and yet, it is the most beautiful thing you have ever known. for in his fury, you find a devotion unbroken, and in his danger, a divinity that shines brighter than the stars. it is wild, it is reckless, it is divine—and you would have it no other way.

you open the door, and there he stands, drenched from head to toe, rain pouring down like a curtain of sorrow, clinging to him as if the heavens themselves weep for his misfortune. gojo satoru, usually so untouchable, now a figure cut from despair, shivers in the chill of the storm, his white hair plastered to his forehead, rivulets of water tracing the sharp lines of his face. his eyes, usually alight with mischief and boundless confidence, are now dimmed, clouded with a sadness so deep it seems to swallow the very light that once defined him.

“go home, satoru,” you say, your voice firm, though your heart clenches at the sight of him.

he doesn’t move, just stands there on your doorstep, trembling from the cold, every shiver of his body a silent plea for your warmth, your forgiveness, oh, your love. his gaze locks onto yours, and in those azure depths, you see a man unraveled, a soul laid bare. he looks so lost, as if every ounce of the bravado that once shielded him has been stripped away, leaving only raw, aching need. he is like a stray pup, kicked and abandoned in the dead of night, caught in a relentless downpour with nowhere to turn but to you.

“please,” his eyes seem to say, though his lips do not move, as if the very act of speaking would shatter what little remains of his pride. the sadness in his gaze is a weight, heavy and suffocating, pressing down on your chest until it hurts to breathe. he stands there, drenched and desperate, the rain mingling with what you can’t tell are tears or the relentless downpour, and you can’t help but feel your resolve waver.

he’s begging you without words, a silent supplication for the love he once held so carelessly, now desperate to grasp it again as if it were the last tether to his fading light. and in that moment, you see him not as the invincible person, not as the man who commands respect and fear, but as someone who is utterly, devastatingly human—broken and yearning, with eyes that plead for a mercy only you can grant.

his body trembles, not just from the cold, but from the unbearable burden of your absence, his breath hitching in the back of his throat as he stands before you, stripped of all bravado. his eyes, usually so filled with boundless confidence, are now heavy with the weight of his own despair, looking up at you with a sadness so profound it seems to echo through the storm. he caught in the relentless fury of the night, shivering and soaked, eyes pleading for the warmth and solace of your embrace—a creature lost in the dark, cast adrift without the guiding light of your love.

“just go home, i don't want to be with you,” you say, voice cutting through the rain like a cruel, deliberate blade.

and just like that, the dam breaks. the tears well up in his eyes, those brilliant blue pools now shimmering with unshed sorrow, glistening in the dim light like shards of broken glass. it’s a sight you’ve longed to see, a vulnerability that he so rarely shows, and for a fleeting moment, you feel a sick satisfaction bloom within you. his pain, raw and unfiltered, stirs something deep, something dark, as you watch the strongest sorcerer reduced to nothing more than a man undone by the weight of his own emotions.

his eyes, usually so full of power and certainty, now shimmer with a desperate plea, tears spilling over as he chokes back a sob. you've never seen anything more beautiful, and in this twisted, fevered moment, you’ve never felt more alive, never fallen harder for him than right now, with his pride in ruins at your feet.

“please, baby,” he whispers, voice cracking under the strain, “i’ll be less annoying, i'll lest of anything that driving you away from me, i’ll do whatever you want—just, please.” the words tumble out, desperate and frantic, as he promises to change, to bend, to be whatever version of himself you demand. he stands before you, a king stripped of his crown, reduced to nothing but a man begging at your mercy, and the sight of it sends a shiver of dark delight down your spine.

it’s sick, the way you revel in this power over him, the way his tears make your heart race and your lips curl into the faintest of smiles. you are obsessed with this dance, this twisted game where his suffering is your satisfaction, where his pleading eyes are the sweetest of victories. he is yours, wholly and completely, and you know that he would break a thousand times over just to keep you from walking away. you will be the death of him, and once, you whisper and spitting on his grave, everyone will watch him crawling back from the death, and once again, he will be lying on your feet for your mercy, for you to love him, all bones and flesh.

and yet, you find yourself pushing further, testing the limits of his devotion, just to see how far he will go. it is a cruel, intoxicating power, to have someone like satoru gojo reduced to tears, and you drink it in like a forbidden elixir, sweet and heady. he is beautiful in his despair, and as he stands there, drenched and pleading, you can’t help but fall for him all over again, tangled in the twisted love that binds you both in this endless, obsessive dance.

gojo falls to his knees, the mighty sorcerer brought low, his arms winding around your legs with a grip that trembles like a leaf caught in a tempest. his body shakes with the cold and the weight of his despair, his once towering presence now reduced to a man clinging to the last threads of hope. he presses his forehead against your knees, rain-soaked and broken, as if your touch alone could redeem him, could stitch together the fragments of his shattered pride.

he looks up at you, eyes glistening with unshed tears, a kaleidoscope of heartbreak and desperation painted across his face—a portrait of a man undone. there is something so exquisitely pathetic in his gaze, a rawness that strips away the veneer of invincibility, leaving only the bare, trembling truth of his need for you. his eyes, those brilliant blue oceans, are now brimming with tears that spill over, tracing a path down his cheeks like the first rains of spring breaking the drought, each drop glistening like a jewel in the pale light.

and you, standing above him, feel a dark, intoxicating thrill twist within you. it is the beauty of his suffering that ensnares your heart, the way his tears catch the light like shattered stars, casting shadows of sorrow and longing. you are captivated by the sight of him, the strongest man you know brought to his knees, eyes pleading, voice breaking as he begs for the one thing he cannot command—your love.

“please,” he murmurs, the word a fragile whisper, his breath warm against your skin, “love me again.” his voice cracks, a jagged sound that splinters the air, and his tears fall faster, the dam of his restraint collapsing in the face of his need. he is beautiful in his anguish, a vision of tragic grace, and you cannot help but fall in love all over again, lost in the raw, unguarded emotion that spills from him like a river bursting its banks.

to see him like this, vulnerable and pleading, is to witness the unraveling of a myth—a god brought to earth, stripped of all but his humanity. and in this moment, he is more magnificent than ever, his sorrow a canvas on which your love paints itself anew. his tears are a symphony of the heart, each drop a note that sings to your darkest desires, pulling you deeper into the depths of this obsessive, all-consuming devotion.

his eyes, those eyes that have seen worlds beyond, now reflect only you, and in their tear-streaked depths, you find a love so fierce, so fervent, that it threatens to consume you whole. it is a love that does not ask, but demands; a love that kneels at your feet and begs for mercy, not for itself, but for the man who weeps before you. and as you look down at him, his tear-stained face so achingly beautiful, you know that you are lost to him—lost to this love that is as twisted and fragile as the threads of his tears, a love that binds you both in a dance of pain and passion that neither of you can bear to end.

as he stumbles forward, falling to his knees with a shudder that ripples through his entire body, the rain pouring down on him like the heavens themselves are weeping for his plight. his hands grasp at your legs, fingers clinging to you with a desperate strength, as though you are the only thing keeping him tethered to this world. his head bows low, forehead pressing against your knees, and his breath comes in ragged, frantic gasps, each one a struggle against the sobs that threaten to tear him apart.

“please,” he begs, voice fractured and raw, as if the words themselves are tearing through him, leaving him gasping for air. “please don’t turn me away. i can’t—i can’t do this without you. i’m dying, i swear, i’m dying without you,” his voice breaks on the last word, shattering into a desperate wail that pierces through the rain, his body convulsing with the force of his sobs.

“i’ll be anything, anyone you need me to be,” he continues, his eyes wild with a terror that’s almost primal, like a man staring into the abyss. “i’ll change, i’ll never be too much again, just… just don’t leave me here, not like this. i can’t breathe, i can’t even think without you. please, i’m begging you—don’t let go of me.” his words come out in a rush, frantic and broken, his voice thick with tears that he no longer bothers to hide.

the world seeming to tilt on its axis, his pride scattered like the raindrops that pool around him. his fingers find your hand, clutching with a desperation that makes your heart stutter, his grip fierce as though you are the last tether to a life he can no longer navigate without you. his head bows low, forehead pressing against your knees, and the sound of his breath is a ragged, broken thing, a symphony of despair that rises with the rhythm of the rain.

“i'm sorry,” he rasps, his voice a mere whisper against the howl of the storm, but there is a rawness in it that slices through the night, a vulnerability that lays him bare. “please, don’t do this. i am undone without you. every breath is agony, every beat of my heart a hollow echo. i am nothing—nothing without your love to guide me.” his words are a litany of longing, each syllable soaked in the salt of unshed tears, his gaze lifting to meet yours with the fragile hope of a man on the brink of ruin.

he looks up at you, eyes wide and shining with tears, the blue of them dull and hollow without the spark of your love. they are the eyes of a man on the brink, staring down the barrel of a life without the only thing that has ever truly mattered. his breath stutters, each exhale a choked, desperate plea, and his fingers dig into the fabric of your clothes, clinging to you as if the very act of holding on is the only thing keeping his heart beating.

his eyes, those brilliant blue depths that once held the light of a thousand stars, now brim with the bleakness of a sky stripped bare, his tears mingling with the rain that slides down his cheeks. he is a man unmade, all bravado stripped away, leaving only the raw ache of his need, the sheer, unrelenting force of his devotion that coils around your heart like ivy.

“please,” he whispers again, his voice so faint it’s almost lost to the sound of the rain. “i need you. more than air, more than anything. without you, there’s nothing. there’s no me, no us, no world i want to live in. i’m dying here, right in front of you, and the only thing that can save me is you. i fucking swear to god, baby, i will kill you and then kill myself if you don't love me again.”

his head drops, forehead pressing into the cold, wet ground as his body shakes with the force of his sobs, each one wrenching through him like a violent storm. he clutches at you with a desperation that borders on madness, his entire being consumed by the need to feel your arms around him, to hear you say that everything will be okay. he is a man unraveling, a soul laid bare in the rain, and all he has left is this—this pitiful, desperate plea for the one thing that could mend his shattered heart.

“i love you,” he chokes out, his voice breaking, his hands trembling against your legs. “i love you so much it hurts. please… i can’t—i can’t do this without you. i’d rather die right here, right now, than spend another second without you in my arms.” and as he kneels there, drenched and broken, begging for a mercy only you can grant, you see the truth etched in every tear-streaked line of his face: without you, he is nothing but a man lost to the storm, drowning in a sea of his own despair.

he bows his head lower, his sobs blending with the symphony of the rain, each drop a soft requiem for the love he fears he has lost. he clings to you as if you are his salvation, his lifeline, the only thing standing between him and the abyss. and in the depth of his gaze, you see it—the unspoken truth that without you, satoru gojo is not the invincible, untouchable force the world sees, but a man who is willing to lay down everything, even his pride, for just one more chance to be held in the light of your love.

your fingers weave through the silver strands of his hair, gripping tightly as if tethering yourself to the very essence of him. the tension draws a soft, desperate whine from his lips, a sound so sweet it echoes through your veins, setting your blood aflame. your bodies, bared to the night's whisper, tangle together in a dance of unspoken need, your breath hitching in rhythm with his as you find solace in the storm of each other's presence.

perched upon his lap, you feel the solid strength of him beneath you, his muscles taut and trembling, his arms wrapped around your waist with a fervor that speaks of a desperate, consuming devotion. you lean closer, your breaths mingling in the scant space between, and capture his lips in a fervent kiss, tongues entwining like vines that have waited lifetimes to grow together. it’s a collision of hunger and longing, a silent plea wrapped in the taste of him that floods your senses and drowns you in the depths of his presence.

“oh, baby— fuck, ’miss you,” he grunt, his cock twitching inside you— losing his mind how divine your gummy walls hugging him.

his grip tightens as though the very essence of his existence hinges on holding you close, as if the mere thought of losing you again would shatter him beyond repair. his eyes, half-lidded and hazy with longing, mirror the fervor that burns in your own, each glance a shared promise that defies the world's attempts to pull you apart. your breaths mingle in the space between, warm and uneven, and the quiet sounds of pleasure that escape your lips mingle with his, a symphony of yearning that drowns out the rain still drumming against the windowpanes.

his hair, still wet from the downpour, clings to his forehead in unruly strands, a testament to the chaos of moments past and your fingers trace the delicate line of his jaw, committing every inch of him to memory as if to carve him into the very fabric of your soul. yet even in the wild disarray, there is a beauty to him that makes your heart stutter—a raw, vulnerable magnificence that only you are privy to in these stolen moments.

his lips part, tremble against yours, a soft gasp escaping as your bodies move in tandem, meet, a slow and deliberate rhythm that leaves no room for anything but the two of you, a slow and deliberate mingling of desire and desperation, each motion a silent plea that neither of you will ever let go. you feel his pulse beneath your fingertips, wild and unsteady, beating in time with the pounding of your own heart—a symphony of obsession that neither of you could ever hope to silence.

“s— ‘toru,” you whimper in his lips, leaving his breath hitches, and you feel the tremor of it against your skin, a shiver that ripples through the both of you, binding you even tighter together. his eyes, glistening and fervent, drink you in as if you are the only thing that can quench his unending thirst. and your own gaze, locked onto his, speaks volumes of the quiet, relentless obsession that ties your souls in knots too intricate to ever untangle.

every sigh, every gasp is a testament to the fervent reunion of souls that cannot be torn asunder, no matter how the world may try. your cheeks are flushed, mirroring the heat in his own, and there’s a delirious pleasure in knowing that he is yours again, has always been yours, will always be yours. in this moment, tangled and breathless, you both become a living prayer, a hymn to the unbreakable, unyielding force of a love that borders on madness.

his hands, desperate and sure, press into the small of your back, fingers splayed as though marking you, branding you as his own. and in the low, heady hum of your shared breaths, the world outside ceases to exist. here, there is only the two of you—obsessed, entwined, and utterly consumed by the fire that refuses to burn out. you are his sanctuary, his obsession, and as he holds you close, he knows with a fierce, undeniable certainty that he is yours in every possible way, now and always.

your fingers thread through his silver locks, tugging them with a possessive fervor that draws a breathless whine from his lips, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. you lean closer, your breath mingling with his, and capture his mouth in a searing kiss once again, tongues tangling in a desperate dance of need and familiarity. the taste of him is intoxicating, like the first sip of a forbidden wine, and you drink him in as though he were the very air you need to survive.

your other hand traces down, fingers curling into the tender flesh of his thigh, nails digging crescents into his skin with a fervor that borders on reverence and possession. each mark you leave is a silent declaration—he is yours to hold, yours to break, yours to ruin, yours to love in this raw, unfettered way. his breath stutters— his body responding to the sting of your touch, every nerve alight with the electric thrill of your shared desire, a sharp intake that lingers in the air, mingling with the rhythm of your heartbeats that drum like a battle cry in the quiet room. his eyes, a storm of love and desperation, gaze up at you as if you are the moon and the sun, his salvation and his undoing. his arms tighten around your waist, holding you as if you are the center of his universe, the axis upon which his world spins.

you rock your hips slowly, a deliberate and torturous rhythm that pulls soft gasps from his parted lips, each sound a sweet symphony that fills the space between your bodies— a slow, deliberate rocking that pulls soft moans from the both of you, the sound mingling like a hymn of devotion sung only for the night to hear. his eyes, half-lidded and burning with a mix of love and lust, meet yours, and in that gaze, you see the depths of his devotion laid bare. he is yours—utterly, entirely, irrevocably—and there is a heady power in knowing that he would lay the world at your feet if you only asked.

his hands grip your waist, fingers pressing into your skin with the intensity of a man holding on to his last breath, as if releasing you would be akin to the world losing its light. the way his body arches into yours, meeting each movement with a silent vow, speaks of a love that teeters on the edge of madness—a need so profound it eclipses reason.

“i love you,” you whisper against his lips, the words a soft, fervent prayer, slipping free like a sacred vow, a quiet affirmation of the bond that binds you both, unbreakable and infinite. his breath shudders as he pulls you even closer, his response a muffled moan as your movements grow more insistent, the heat between you building like a slow-burning flame that refuses to be quenched.

his eyes flutter shut at your confession, as if savoring the weight of it, letting it sink into his bones. he trembles beneath your touch, his body singing with the quiet, desperate need for more—more of your touch, your love, your presence that he clings to like a drowning man reaching for the surface. every breath you share feels like a stolen promise, each kiss a sacred bond that reaffirms the feverish connection that neither of you can ever escape.

your hands, one still tangled in his hair, the other gripping his thigh, hold him to you as if to anchor him in place, to remind him that this, here and now, is all that matters. his lips curve into a breathless smile against yours, his body arching into every touch, every caress, his own whispered confessions of love mingling with the soft, reverent sounds of your shared longing.

in this moment, every touch, every kiss, every whispered word is a testament to the fierce, unrelenting need that pulls you back to him time and time again. you are tangled in each other’s orbit, bound by an obsession that runs deeper than blood, stronger than any force that might try to tear you apart. and as you lose yourselves in the slow, deliberate rhythm of your of your bodies.

and as his hands tighten around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, you realize that this—this wild, chaotic, all-consuming love—is the very marrow of your existence. in his embrace, you find the echoes of every past longing, every unspoken promise, and the undeniable truth that he is yours, irrevocably and eternally. and as you move together, lost in the poetry of each other’s touch, you know that no force in this world or the next could be sever the bond that holds you— two souls bound by the beautiful relentless obsession of love.

as you move slowly on his lap, the friction and intensity make gojo’s breath hitch. a guttural, involuntary grunt escapes him, the sound a raw, visceral expression of the pleasure and need surging through him. his grip tightens around your waist, each movement of yours driving him further into a state of blissful surrender.

his eyes, clouded with a potent mix of passion and adoration, lock onto yours. “fuck,” he groans, the word slipping from his lips in a low, reverent murmur. the sound is both a plea and a confession, his body trembling with the weight of his overwhelming emotions.

he stutters, his voice faltering as he tries to articulate the depth of his feelings amidst the relentless pleasure. “i… i love you too,” he finally breathes out, the words trembling on his lips, laden with both desperation and devotion. his gaze is unwavering, filled with an intense, unspoken promise. “you are everything to me… every touch, every whisper… it’s all I’ve ever wanted, all I’ll ever need.”

his breath comes in ragged bursts, each one a testament to the consuming nature of his love and desire. he pulls you closer, his entire being attuned to the rhythm of your movements, the declaration of his love etched into every shudder, every gasp, as he loses himself in the exquisite intensity of the moment.

[colonelarr0w]

The Shibuya Incident

JJK characters in Shibuya.

INCLUDED - Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto (!Non-Defected), Kento Nanami, Choso Kamo, Toji Fushiguro, Ryomen Sukuna, Ino Takuma, Yuuji Itadori, Megumi Fushiguro

WARNINGS - mature themes, foul language, mentions of death, explicit death, gore, canon JJK violence, mental breakdowns, mass murder

! PIECE BEGINS UNDERNEATH THE CUT !

"Hey, hey. Take a breath for me," Gojo says softly to you, his thumbs smoothing over the skin just beneath your eyes. You're panicking in his arms, eyes flickering wildly about. Your body is shaking in his hold, fear radiating off of you in frantic waves.  

Even with his soft-spoken command, you can't. The ability to breathe feels like it's been ripped out from underneath your feet, replaced instead by sharpened inhales that only make your head spin and your throat burn. The feeling of his skin on your own, while it would've calmed you in any other situation, seemed to only make you feel worse.  

"Satoru," you try to bite out, but his name comes out like a breathy plea. His shoulders sag, the eyes behind his blindfold softening as he watches you descend into your own mind. He's just as scared as you are – walking into that veil was the exact same as walking into the belly of an angered beast.  

He didn't want to do it, and hell he wished that you would've stayed home where at least he knew that you were safe. But duty called … duty always called. "Honey, you have to breathe. Take a breath." 

Though you struggle, you inhale shakily. Gojo nods at you, encouraging you to take another breath. His shoulders raise in an emphasized show of breathing, which he only lowers once he sees your body mimicking the movement of his own.  

"There you go--" 

Gojo's words fall dead on his tongue as you tug his body against your own, arms winding around his waist and holding him in a bone-crushing embrace. In any other situation, he would've laughed at you – teased you even. But this time, he doesn’t.  

His arms wrap around your waist, holding you against him while his cheek lays against the top of your head. He sighs, feeling you shake against him as you conceal your crying into his chest, sobs caught by the thickened fabric of the shirt that he wears.  

"Promise me that you'll come back," you whisper, voice barely audible, but he hears you. Gojo sighs, tilting your head up so that your eyes meet his. Your hands shakily lift, pushing up his blindfold to see that his eyes shine with tears just like yours do. "Promise me 'toru." 

He smiles tearfully at you, nodding his head and craning his neck to place a loving kiss against your forehead. He lingers there for a moment, feeling you sigh against him as you close your eyes.  

"I promise." 

"(Y/N)! (Y/N), c'mon, answer me!" Geto must sound like a madman to the sorcerers' that accompany him, but their opinion of him holds no importance – not when he can't find you. 

Your phone had gone dead the moment that you entered the station, which he had expected and anticipated. But it didn't make his heart sink any less when he suddenly couldn't reach you. That meant that he wasn't sure if you were safe, or if you were even alive.  

And now, with an entire portion of the station infested with transfigured humans, Geto had one singular goal. That was to find you and get the fuck out of Shibuya, mission be damned. 

So he sprinted through the train station in a manner akin to a rabid animal, tearing through anything that stood in his path with whatever curse he was able to conjure up. It felt like he had been caught in tunnel vision, only able to see in front of him – all he wanted was to make sure that you were safe. 

"(Y/N)! Thank God, there you--" He pauses, his breath catching in his throat. It feels like he's been punched in the gut. His body stands rigid, eyes widening slowly at the sight that lies in front of him.  

You're there, you're right there in front of him. But your body is held in the hands of a transfigured curse, one with devilish eyes and a wicked smile that quickly burns itself into Geto's memory. He'd never forget that smile, ever.  

Weakly, your head turns so that your gaze meets his. "Suguru," is the only word that you're able to muster up in your current state. The freakishly large hand around you tightens, and with a painful grimace, you're gone before Geto could even process what was happening.  

And he stands there, eyes wide and body stiff, mirroring a position that he stood in years and years ago. 

"Kento …?" Your heart sinks as you slowly approach your husband's back, feeling your chest tighten in fear at the curse that stands behind him, hand raised – Mahito.  

Nanami's spine momentarily straightens at the sound of your voice, head turning just enough that he could watch you walk closer out of the corner of his eye. He wants to open his mouth to tell you to run, to reunite with the others and save yourself. But selfishly, he doesn't. 

He waits until you walk completely into view, shocked that Mahito even lets you. He had expected the child-like curse to round on you and promptly blow you to oblivion in front of his very eyes. He looks tired, exhausted even. You soften, tears already pricking at your eyes. 

"(Y/N)," he murmurs in that silky voice that always had the ability to make you weak. Even now, in a moment where you know that you were both completely and utterly doomed, you smile. Sure, it's a weak little quirk of your lips, but Nanami feels his heart soar at the sight of it.  

You shake your head, eyes flickering between your husband's and Mahito's, struggling to focus on one. Shakily, you lift your arms, readying yourself to attack Mahito. Even as you shake underneath your own fear, you still try to protect him – even if was in vain. 

"I love you," Nanami says to you, breaking your focus on Mahito and returning it to himself. Teary (E/C) eyes flicker to meet dulled hazel, and again, Nanami smiles. Your chest tightens, coiling with guilt over the lack of control that you had over the situation. "I love you … so much." 

"Kento," you breathe out, tears slipping down your cheeks. "I love you too, but--" 

Mahito doesn't let you finish your thought, and in a flash of crimson, Nanami is gone. Your eyes widen, your body stands as still as stone. The curse only smiles, then rounding on you. You exhale shakily, eyes flickering down to what's left of your husband before Mahito's palm hovers in front of your face. 

With closed eyes, you accept your fate. 

"You better fucking be here," you murmur to yourself, skidding on your heels and sprinting through the empty train station. Apart from your ragged breathing, the only sounds that fill your ears are the distant screams of the innocent and the garbled communication between curses.  

Halfway through a one-on-one fight with a low-grade curse, you had felt a prickle of energy across your skin. It was energy that you were familiar with, one that you had committed to memory for occasions just like the one that you were currently living through.  

The moment you felt it, you followed it. Choso. 

You nearly roll your ankle as you skid to a stop, eyes having caught sight of what you had been so desperately searching for. He’s looking around for you just like you had been for him, and the moment your eyes meet, you’re running at each other.  

His arms are around you the moment that you brush against him, tugging you against his chest and burying his nose into your hair.  

You don’t mind being crushed against him, not when you had been out-of-your-mind worried about him since you’d stepped foot in the Shibuya station. 

“(Y/N),” Choso murmurs into your hair, squeezing you tighter as he screws his eyes shut. Your nails bite into his back, bunching up the fabric of his shirt. He doesn’t care, he truly doesn’t. Not when you were safe, not when you were breathing.   

“I’m here Choso, and I’m not going anywhere,” you promise, voice muffled by the thickened fabric of his shirt. His arms squeeze you again, and a comfortable silence falls over the both of you.  

You could both go home and hopefully, just hopefully, you could forget about Shibuya entirely. 

It had been years, fucking years, since you heard that voice. Years since you’d heard that snarky voice either insulting you or telling you that he loved you — there was never a healthy in-between.  

And now, you were standing in front of him. Your ears were hearing his voice, your eyes were seeing his face. Toji fucking Fushiguro. 

But unlike the other times that you had seen him, this encounter was drastically different. He was trying to kill you, not bed you. 

“Toji?” you inquire with a tilt of your head, watching as the broad man stalks you like a lion would its prey. “Toji? What’s …?” Your words fall dead as he swipes at you, fingers closed around the handle of a weapon that you definitely didn't know the name of.  

You jerk back away from him, widened eyes flickering up between the weapon in his hands and his face – which for some odd reason remains blank; you can't read him at all. His eyes are a void, his expression completely void of anything that might even entertain the idea that he was human.  

With every time he lunges at you, you retaliate by taking a quick step back. Your eyes flicker up to Toji's face, and for a fleeting moment both of your eyes meet. His entire body freezes, eyes staring into your own as if you were an alien. The weapon that had been pressed against your chest is pulled away from you so swiftly that you barely process the movement.  

"Toji what the fuck--" 

"(Y/N)." The utterance of your name had you pausing, watching him as he straightened up, rising to his full height. The eyes that once looked like two small black voids are full of life now, their irises that very same color that you once spent hours lovingly staring into.  

How is it that he looked exactly the same as the day you lost him? 

You don't say anything as he steps towards you, his hands dropping the weapon that he had been holding so tightly onto just a moment before. Those same, calloused hands cup either side of your face, holding it just as tenderly as you had remembered.  

You don't know when, but at some point your eyes welled up with tears – tears that Toji thumbs away. He stares down so softly at you, a stark contrast to the hatred that had filled his eyes just seconds before. This was the Toji you remembered, not whatever had attacked you. 

There were very few things that you feared in the world. Being a sorcerer had done that to you, had worn down your ability to feel true, genuine fear. But now? Right now? 

All you felt was icy fear searing through your body as if someone had dunked you naked into an ice bath.  

There was an endless pit where an endless pit definitely should not have been. And standing over it was the one person you had trusted with your life, even if trusting him meant simultaneously putting yourself in immense danger every time that you spent a moment with him.  

His hands are in his pockets, his eyes staring out over the destruction that he had caused with a proud smirk etched into his face. He holds no remorse, you know that he doesn't, but the calmness of his demeanor only adds to your fear.  

"Ryo …?" Your voice is laced with hesitance as you approach his back, legs shaking with each step that you decide to take. He doesn't turn completely to face you, but you notice the small nod of his head in your direction. "What … what did you do?" 

Sukuna sighs – a long and heavy breath that is riddled with pride over his actions. The lives that were potentially lost amidst his destruction meant nothing to him, and they would never mean anything to him.  

"I had my fun," he says plainly, turning completely to face you. He spares you no reaction even though he can so clearly see the fear painted onto your face. It makes him smirk, the tip of his nail running along the underside of your jaw. "Come now, I'm not quite finished with this body yet." 

You shiver as Sukuna walks past you, tearing your gaze away from the gaping hole right smack in the center of Shibuya. You didn't even want to begin to think about the lives that had been lost, how painful and slow their deaths must've been. How much did they scream? How many of them begged for mercy? 

You shake your head, dispelling those thoughts. Hesitantly, you turn to glance at Sukuna, noticing that he had stopped — waiting for you to join his side. You bite your lip, and regretfully, you move to follow him.  

“Hey, there you are. Someone’s been asking for you,” Shoko says with a barely-there smile as you sit up. Immediately, a dull ache douses over your body like someone had dunked you underwater. You groan lightly, pressing a palm against your forehead and glancing up at Shoko.  

“Really?” you murmur weakly, rolling your shoulders as Shoko takes a step back. Ino stands behind her, his arms and legs bandaged just like yours were. His face morphs into relief as your eyes meet his — and even though he stumbles over his own feet, he beelines for you.  

He’s careful not to accidentally upset any of your injuries as he tugs you into his arms, crushing you against his chest and burying his nose into your hair. He can feel you shudder against him, your own arms returning his bone-crushing embrace with one of his own. 

“You’re okay. Holy fuck you’re okay,” Ino murmurs into your hair, barely registering your hands as they comfortingly rub up and down the length of his spine.  

“Yeah,” you whisper into his chest, voice barely audible over the thickened fabric of his shirt. “Yeah, I’m okay.”  

Ino squeezes you tighter, then allowing you to pull away. His hands cup your face, thumbing away the tears that roll down your cheeks. He smiles, and his heart soars when you mirror it. Ino is quick to lean in, lips pressing to yours.  

You return his kiss immediately, leaning impossibly further into him and chasing his lips with your own. He breaks from you, much to your dismay, and leans his forehead onto yours. You can feel his shaky sigh as it fans out over your face, closing your eyes and savoring the feeling of his skin against your own.  

"Don't go anywhere." Ino's voice shakes as he speaks to you, the grip that he has over you momentarily tightening as he tugs you against him. You sigh, returning his embrace just as tightly and burying your face away into his shoulder.  

"Yuuji? Yuuji!"  

He turns at the sound of your voice, ears perked like a curious puppy. The tears sliding down his cheeks feel as though they've paused at the sight of you – stumbling over your feet as you reach him. The moment you do, your arms are locked around his neck, throwing yourself against him with enough force that he stumbles back. 

He hesitates, hands shaking as they hover above the small of your back. Do you even know what happened? Could he tell you? 

You pause at the feeling of his body trembling against your own. His arms were locked at his sides as if he had lost all ability to even use them. You slowly take a step back from him, noticing the faraway look glazed over his eyes and the way that he struggles to focus on one single thing – including you.  

Hesitantly, you lift your hands to his cheeks, palms laying against his skin. Your touch almost immediately brings him back to reality; you can see it in the way that his eyes snap to meet your gaze, wide and slightly fearful. But not scared of you, rather, scared of himself.  

"Hey, what's--" 

"Don't. Please don't," he interrupts you, shaking his head against your hands. His palms lift to lay over your own, fingers squeezing you in a way that silently begged you not to leave. You nod, steering his head down to yours so that your forehead can lightly rest against his own.  

Wordlessly, you nod. Your hands shift in position, arms wrapping around his neck again and bringing his body back to your own. His hands immediately go to bunch up the back of your shirt, fingers curling into the fabric in a way that screams 'Don't leave me'.  

And you don't. You stand there, closing your eyes and letting Yuuji cling to you as if you were the last bit of what could keep him sane – and in a way, that was exactly what you were. To Yuuji, you were a lifeline – a resemblance of the humanity that he continued to throw away the more that he switched with Sukuna. 

"I'm right here Yuuji," you whisper into his shoulder, receiving a loving squeeze in response to your words. "And I'm not going anywhere." 

“Promise me you’ll come back safe,” you say, squeezing Megumi’s hands and blinking back the tears that had slowly begun to gather along your waterline. He sighs, reaching one of his hands up to lightly cup the back of your head.  

He brings your forehead to his own, closing his eyes the moment that his skin comes into contact with your own. He can feel you shudder against him, a shaky sigh falling from your nose. “I promise you … with everything I have in me, I promise you.” 

But that had been hours ago, and you had no idea if Megumi was safe. You had separated from him shortly after that conversation, with you joining Nobara and Nitta and Megumi going off to find Yuuji. In the two hours that you spent fighting against curses and transfigured humans, you hadn’t heard anything about any of the others — including Megumi. 

“I’m sure he’s fine. He’s with Yuuji after all, isn’t he?” Nobara says reassuringly to you, nudging your shoulder with her own. You turn to glance at her, swallowing the lump in your throat and forcing your head up and down in a nod.  

“Yeah … I guess so,” you answer hesitantly, smiling weakly as Nitta places a comforting hand on your shoulder. The three of you continue walking, a comfortable yet uncomfortable silence falling over your heads. Surrounding you are the sounds of a distant chaos, bystanders scream, transfigured humans gurgle out grotesque noises — reality doesn’t quite feel like reality.  

You pause at the sound of something approaching you, both Nobara and Nitta stopping as well. Three pairs of eyes gaze down a darkened alleyway, and your heart stops at what waits at the alleyway’s end. 

Megumi’s Divine Dog. 

Its ears prick upward at the sight of you, eyes fixed on you in the darkness. Its tail flicks back and forth before it approaches you, not stopping until it nudges its head into the palm of your hand. You scratch lightly behind its ears, eyes flickering to Nobara.  

“You both need to go … I need to find—“ 

“No way. What if something happens to you too?” Nobara interrupts you, reaching out and clasping your shoulders. The shikigami barks angrily in Nobara’s direction, protectively stepping in front of you and making the brunette stumble back.  

“Nobara, I can’t just leave him where he is,” you insist, blinking back tears. “I have to. I have to go and find Megumi.” 

Nobara shakes her head again, and instead, she pulls you into her arms. You still, glancing at Nitta, who only looks away. “You can’t (Y/N).” 

“He sent the dog to make sure that you don’t look for him.” 

[lixies-favorite-cookie]

Rewrite the ending

-Just once, let him rewrite the story; Just once, he promises you will never have to watch the same ending again.

Paring◦ felix x mommy issues!reader

Genre ◦ smut with pain

Warnings ◦ The reader is described as having mommy issues though the argument is very brief so it can connect with more people, angst, talk about knives, PIV sex, CONSENT, ngl this is just some passionate lovemaking, tears during sex, references to the princess bride the greatest love story of all time I will die on this hill,

Taglist ◦ @thetoastghost222, @ur-fav-lvr, @velvetmoonlght

A/N ◦ This is literally a story solely based on an experience I just had with my mother and needed something to comfort me while I have a mental breakdown 😃 also if you liked this man I have mommy issues I severely need reassurance 😭

can somebody please tell me if this is convoluted because I tried to make it poetic but I don't know if I just made it messy. THANK YOU.

Soundtrack ◦ Family Line by Conan Grey, Cover me by Stray Kids

~cookiecreates 🍪

The screen flickers off.

The velvet curtains close.

The world fades to black.

The End

Your ribs crack open, heavy sobs echoing through the gaps of your unfolded bones. Your hands make purchase around your shredded soul, the warm liquid of your sorrows trickling through your splayed fingers like the shadow's phantom finger tracing the lines of your melancholy, dusting over the hill of your cheeks. 

One more time.

Just one more time.

You rewind the tape-

The velvet curtains stutter open.

The screen flashes white.

Just one more time.

How many times could you watch the same movie before you realized the ending would never change?

You rewind the tape-

How many times could you lick her love off the edge of a knife before you realize the blade will never dull?

You slide the tip across your tongue-

Just one more time.

Please.

Just pretend to love me one more time.

"For once, can you admit that you're wrong?" you snap, attempting to steady your rising voice. 

You've been arguing with your mother for centuries, your breath grating across your throat like grains of sharpened sand. Talking to her was like bouncing wisdom off a wall; it will only ever come to bite you in the ass-

"I did what I had to do to teach you discipline; you were unruly-"

or punch you in the face.

"I was nine!" you shout, a weak and wounded cry. "Nine!"

How could she not see that?

"I did it because I loved you."

She rips your heart out of your chest, only to dust a gentle finger underneath the curve of your jaw; her sweet smile coaxes your lips open; she was your mother, and yet, with a wicked gaze, she draws her fingers together—you choke, a thick river of blood flows onto your tongue like a bitter stream of a thousand broken promises.

There was so much you wanted to say to her.

"Maybe you should reevaluate your definition of love."

"Maybe you should have just been a better daughter."

"Only she could spread sugar across your skin before feeding your soul to the ants."

The signal of an ended call rings through your ears as the world fades to black.

The velvet curtains close.

The screen flickers off.

The movie sputters to a stop.

The End

All you wanted to hear was I'm sorry.

All you have ever wanted to hear was I'm sorry.

You are far too entranced with the stillness of your spine to hear the door creak open, Felix’s hesitant footsteps carefully creep closer. It is only when he mumbles a soft, saturnine "sweetheart" that you finally feel something-

"How did it go?" Felix believed the strings of your souls were so intertwined, the two of you experienced emotions the way an instrument feels the thrum of a cord; but as your heart pumps with an intangible amount of anguish, maybe even for you, some feelings were simply too subjective to share.

It is only when your heart has been crushed by fingers made of feathers do you start caring a lot less about the hands made of knives.

How desperately he wishes he was a human with hinges, where he may unscrew his soul and allow your eyes to gaze upon his walls, with the knowledge that they were only ever painted with the thought of you.

He would not hurt you-

Please, collapse into him, just once-

Let him prove that you will never have to fall again-

Wordlessly, thoughtlessly, your hand chases his touch, a million different uncompleted sentences dissipating as soon as your skin connects; your fingers beg, hold me, even as your mouth shutters shut, dusty rivulets cascading across your cheeks like the desert's silky sand.

You were empty.

so, so, very empty-

Felix's soothing hands lock underneath the bend of your knees, pulling you into his warm embrace with a rush of unregistered movements.

You rewind the tape.

Just one more time.

You needed to be reminded of what it was like to not constantly live with the echo of a hollow soul.

Just one more time.

You needed to be reminded of what it was like to hear something other than a deafening crescendo of pure contempt.

Just one more time.

"Please," you have lived so much of your life caught in a perpetual state of emptiness, for once, you wanted to remember what your body was like before your mother bore you with the heavy burden of broken wings.

"Touch me," you shove the palm of his hand into your core, pleading with so much of your soul none left to protest. He gasps into your mouth, his face scrawled with worry, the etch of a million different fears drawn into the deep lines of his forehead.

Just once

Let him rewind the film

Just once

You will never have to watch the same ending again.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Though his words are unsure, his actions tell a different story; tender hands massage the length of your thighs, reluctantly begging you to open up, to unfold your deformed ribs, where he will fill your hollow bones with the type of love you have only ever yearned for.

Just once.

"I need you."

You need him more than you need your heart to beat, your lungs to breathe; you need him more than you need the birds, the bees, the ground, the trees—

He lays you upon the silken sheets with such soulful kindness that your glassy eyes almost break; his heart thrums with the promise of I love you and the vow of I'll make you fly. His hand dips into the band of your shorts, pleasure peeking out from the shadows of your mind, only ever bobbing its head long enough to fill your skin with a minute tingling sensation—like running your hands under hot water after a long day in the snow, but it was not enough.

"I need you," you gasp into his mouth, his throat desperately sucking the sound in. His eyes widen ever so slightly, his features stricken with a sudden tightness, a burdened tonnage; you were handing him your heart with the hope his hands weren't made of blades, and the idea of the utter trust you have put in him to do that makes his stomach flip.

Just once—

He will prove it all to you.

"As you wish," nostalgia flutters in your veins as you reminisce the sentence pulled straight from the greatest love story ever told. His nose nudges the column of your throat as he presses a peck on your flesh, drifting his arms down to unceremoniously pull off his pants.

Even with such a simple act, he makes the effort to remind you that he is here.

He takes his time removing your clothes, fingers sliding across your skin with a delicate intimacy, a tender reverence; his lips trace the lines of your seams until your very atoms are etched with his name.

I hate her

I love you

I love you

I love you

He coupled every leak of anger with a river of love, kissing your limbs until all your body could remember was the pureness of his ardor.

"Are you ready?" he whispers against your skin, lining himself with your entrance, all he needs is a word to finally sink himself in. Your eyes are glassy, gazing up at him with such an unadulterated passion, a pure amount of pain—this will tear you apart, and he promises with every fiber of his being, he will put you back together.

"Yes." You have lived most of your life with the heavy burden of a body’s broken wings, and it isn't until Felix’s crafted hands finally crease your ribs that you realize origami can only emerge when you fold it up, the way a bird can only fly when it falls.

You are an amalgamation; so much of your soul is lost in his lips you don't know where he begins and you end, but when a rush of pleasure tingles up your spine, you don't care.

The world is tangled somewhere on the edge of in-between space and time, melding together into a mushy, gushy substance that slips through your fingers as they lace in his raven locks. You pour all your pain into the slit of his lips, where he sucks in every drop, leaving no room for your protests.

You were both overcome with a flood of delicate feelings—the passion that surged with the twists of your heartbeats began to be too much to bear; as his hips ruthlessly rut into yours, you cry out, chasing the edge of a daydream. So close, so close, so—his lips taste like I love you and his tears like I'm here. You can only hear the crash of your soul shattering before his ginger fingers sew you back together.

The juxtaposition of that orgasm was astounding.

You both slam down into the earth at the same time, holding each other's tired bodies as the ground swallows you up.

His arms lock around your head, quivering as he struggles to hold himself up, droplets of tears land on your cheeks as they dip down the slope of his nose. He was so perfect-

so, so, very perfect.

Your mouth raises to kiss a tear clinging to the tip of his nose. He chokes, squeezing his eyes shut. You both are thrumming with tension, overflowing with emotion; before you can even blink, he is pulling you to his chest, naked and sticky, he holds you closer than you have ever been.

It is through the tears of others that we remember we are alive.

Just one more time.

Rewind the tape and let him kiss your shattering soul with the knowledge that has already rewritten the ending.

Just once-

Collapse into him.

Let him prove that this story really is—

The End  

©CookieCreates (posted: August, 12th 2024) All rights reserved. Do not translate, copy, or claim my works as yours! I only post on this platform so if any of my works are elsewhere, report and notify me immediately.

~cookiecreates 🍪

[sabersandsnipers]

A Stray on the Road

Author’s Note: I work with a lot of the pediatric population as a nurse, so I thought about what Halsin and Astarion’s reactions would be to me having to protect and take care of every kid I find lol

The day was grueling. The sticky sensation of blood covers every inch of your skin. Aches and pains rattle your bones, and the road seems endless as your group searches for a good place to set up camp. The only thought keeping you going is that of curling up between Astarion and Halsin later. 

“Gods, this is hell,” Karlach complains. 

Wyll responds with some snide comment, but you’re only half listening, because you’re approaching a rather violent scene. Wagons are tipped over, and bodies litter the road. You slow as you approach, noticing a small figure sitting by a pair of bodies. 

Your gaze sharpens, and you see it’s a young girl. No older than 5. Tears stream down her cheeks as she sits by a pair of dead bodies. Your heart sinks as you realize it’s probably her parents. 

“Hang back, guys,” you say. You fear the approach of such a large group will frighten her. Attempting to wipe the blood off your face, you walk up to the girl. 

Her clothes are tattered, and you notice she has a few cuts lining her arms and legs. You crouch next to her.

“Hey,” you say softly. 

Big beautiful brown eyes meet yours. Something twists in your chest. 

“What’s your name?” you ask.

She sniffles. “Eowyn.”

“Eowyn, do you have family nearby?”

She shakes her head. “No. And I don’t know where I am.” 

Her voice trembles, and your heart breaks for her. You look back to your companions. Most won’t mind her staying with them, except for Astarion, who will be annoyed by the young presence.Your friends look back at you expectantly, wondering what your next move is. 

“Would you like to stay with me and my friends for the night?” you ask her.

She looks to the group behind you, and you half expect her to run away in fear with how harsh they look. 

But her expression doesn’t change, she simply nods her head. 

“Do you think you can walk?” you ask her.

She shakes her head. 

You smile at her. “That’s okay. Halsin?”

The elf approaches. Eowyn stares up at him, eyes wide. 

“Is it alright if my friend carries you?” you ask her. 

She nods. “He’s so tall.” Her eyes are filled with wonder.

“He is,” you say with a chuckle. You look to Halsin and he nods. He reaches down and picks up the child, placing her on his shoulder. 

“Hold on, child,” he says. There’s a slight smile on her face, but then darkness fills her eyes again. 

Your group ventures forth once more. The sun is beginning to set, casting shadows along the road. But you can’t help but admire the beautiful colors streaking across the sky. 

Astarion falls into step beside you. “Picked up another stray, I see.”

You nudge your shoulder against him. “You were a stray once too.” 

He gives a half smile. “I’m just worried you’re going to burden yourself with her safety.”

You let out a sigh, knowing he wouldn’t like her presence. “She has no one, Astarion.” 

He doesn’t say anymore, but you can feel the tenseness between you two. Your relationship is still being navigated. But even with your difference in values, you couldn’t stop yourselves from being drawn to each other. 

A giggle pulls you from your thoughts. You look back to see Eowyn playing with Halsin’s braids. He’s grinning back at her, thoroughly enjoying her laughs. The sight sparks a warmth within you, and you can’t stop the smile from growing on your lips.

“Ugh.” Astarion comments. “Does he always have to be so…Halsin?” 

You shoot him a half hearted glare. Despite him being agreeable to Halsin joining your relationship, he always seems taken aback by his general goodness and willingness to help others. 

Your trek continues, Astarion allowing your hands to brush ever so slightly as you walk the dusty road. 

The fire crackles as Karlach throws more wood onto the flames. A warm stew has been shared amongst your group, Eowyn getting a healthy portion. Conversations scatter around, commenting on the latest tavern you stopped at, or how a fight went along the way. 

You sit on a log between Eowyn and Halsin, but Astarion sits over by his tent. He’s reading one of his books, sipping on some wine. 

Every time you glance to Eowyn, you notice her watching Astarion. Her gaze is curious, and she seems completely enthralled with him. Not that you can blame her. You’re completely enthralled as well. 

“He’s so beautiful,” she suddenly comments. You smile at her and then look at your love.

“Isn’t he?” you respond. “He’s awfully nice too, to the people he likes.”

“I saw you kissing earlier. Are you married?” she asks. 

You laugh. “No, but I do love him very much.”

Confusion crosses her face, as if she can’t comprehend how you can be in love but not married. She takes another bite of her stew. Her eyes flicker back to Astarion. 

A few minutes later she taps you on the shoulder. You turn away from your conversation with Halsin as she leans over to you. 

“Do you think he would read me a bedtime story?” she asks in a whisper. 

You grin, and glance at Astarion. Although he would most definitely deny her request, he can’t deny you. 

“Yes. You should go over and ask. Tell him I sent you.” 

Her expression brightens. She gets right up and makes her way over to Astarion, who doesn’t acknowledge her until she’s standing right in front of him. He finally looks up, his expression mildly annoyed. Eowyn talks for a few moments and then he shoots a glare in your direction. 

You raise an eyebrow at him, daring him to say no. He bites the inside of his lip. The seconds pass as you wait for his response. 

Finally, his body relaxes and he nods his head. Eowyn sits down on the cushion next to him, snuggling up right close to him. Although Astarion tenses a bit, he doesn’t push her away. You watch them for a bit, admiring how adorable they look together. 

A pair of hands find their way to your shoulders. 

A familiar voice whispers in your ear. “I’m going to bathe in the river. Would you like to join me?” Halsin asks. He places a hot kiss against your neck. 

“Halsin, the day I say no to that question, I want you to push me off a cliff, because clearly I’ve gone mad,” you respond. 

A breathy laugh caresses your skin. You give him your hand and the two of you make your way to the water. 

When you return from your excursion with Halsin, skin still tingling, you’re astounded by the sight before you. Astarion and Eowyn still sit together, except Eowyn is sound asleep in his lap. Astarion looks down at her, his hand resting lightly on her hair. You can’t read his expression. 

When you approach Astarion, you crouch down and place a kiss to his temple. He smiles at you, and it makes your heart flutter just like the first time. 

“I can have Halsin take her to my tent,” you offer, brushing back a strand of his white curls. 

He hesitates, looking down at Eowyn. “I think we’ll be okay. She looks so comfortable.” 

She’s curled right up, her head resting on his chest. Her face looks so serene after all the horrors she’s experienced today. 

“Okay. I’ll go spend the night with Halsin then. Just come get me if you need me,” you tell him. 

“I think we’ll be okay, darling,” he replies. 

You smile and kiss him goodnight. As you make your way to Halsin’s tent, you take one last look over your shoulder, and allow yourself a moment to admire the two of them. And it brings you great joy to know Astarion is finding just as much comfort as she is. 

[theeveninghour]

All My Dreaming | Part 2

Summary: After accepting the mating bond, you and Azriel explore some missed opportunities. That’s it, that’s the tweet.

A/N: Thank you for the love on All My Dreaming!!! Not to be horny on main but I couldn’t stop writing for this story, here’s ~8k more words of extremely sweet and very nasty Azriel. I really wanted to write a fun scene with Mor and the gang Rita’s but couldn’t find a place for it in the first part, so y’all are getting it here. There is like, so very little plot here, I just wanted to write a few more scenes and give some additional backstory on these two because I think they’re cute. Also, I love writing little vignettes for this storyline so I might post a few more, much smaller (lol) snippets of them as an epilogue! 

Pairing: Azriel x Winter Court!Reader

WC: 8.4k (i have no self control)

TW: 18+, Minors DNI, smut, cunnilingus, face sitting, more love declarations, Cassian being a lil flirty in flashbacks, soft dom!Az, little hints at jealous!Az, the slightest amount of angst, talk of previous abuse (but nothing too descriptive) and slight breeding kink because Az has one (I feel this in my bones). Azriel is down astronomically bad for the reader in this one y’all. The last 2.7k is literally just porn lol 

Part 1

True to his word, Azriel kept you in the meadow until dawn. The sun beginning to paint the night-sky with sepia hued pinks and oranges. You’d long since finished the wine, eaten half the bread, and most of the fruit and cheeses. He laid against the quilt, wings spread magnificently as you laid against him, thigh over his abdomen, head on his shoulder, fingertips tracing idly at the tattoo inking his chest. He hummed contentedly, and you ventured your eyes up his, finding his gaze already on you.

“Can I ask you something?” You tested the waters of this new thing; bond, love, cocoon that enveloped you. “Anything,” he smiled. “When did you know?” You asked softly. He furrowed his brow. “That I loved you?” He asked and you nodded, turning your upper half to rest your chin on the hand that had stilled against his chest. He laughed. Mother above, he laughed so warmly that it made your eyes crinkle and lips spread into a grin from the sound alone. 

“You’re going to hate this,” he said as a preface, smiling, dimples appearing as he looked to you, “but it was a few weeks after you joined us, and Cassian mouthed off at you about being late to training.” You raised a brow. “You fell in love with me, while I was being…….degraded?” You asked, a little deadpan. “No,” he shook his head in correction, still chuckling. “It was what you did after.”

Cassian kept a strict training schedule. He trained in the early hours of the morning on the balcony at the House of Wind, ate breakfast, then moved to outdoor weapons and flight training off the banks of the Sidra until the early afternoon. He was strenuous and strict in his routine, as was Azriel. You’d begun training with them the week before, and if you were totally honest, you weren’t fully comfortable with the two brothers yet. Cassian was rough around the edges, brutish, with a mouth that often got him into trouble. Azriel was quiet, observant in a way that unnerved you. You’d caught his eyes following you often and you hated the warmth that pressed into your cheeks when he did. 

Rhysand had warned them to give you time to adjust. You’d been brutally attacked by Beron’s dogs only a few months ago and forced to live in the wilds for nearly six weeks, eating foraged fauna and what game you could kill with a makeshift spear you’d carved using sharpened obsidian and a walnut branch. Your body grew weary in those weeks; endless fear, starvation, and sleepless would do that. You were still a jittery little thing, like a wild animal, jumpy when Amren or Mor managed to sneak up on you by accident. 

Azriel recognized these symptoms and allowed you a leniency he didn’t normally offer his trainees, but trauma, physical and mental, took a toll on the body as he well knew. He’d gifted you a golden hilted dagger on your second week with them and asked if you knew how to use it. You held it in your palm, noting the blue stone that sat in the bolster and double edged blade that you could see your reflection in. You looked a little gaunt, but your cheeks held color again, your lips were fuller, no longer dry and chapped from mountain winds and cold nights. 

“I know how to use a blade Shadowsinger,” you said in an even tone. You didn’t call him by his name then. You also called Cassian ‘General’ to his face, and ‘asshole’ behind his back. “Most females learn to use them,” you followed up, “out of necessity.” Azriel hated to dwell on those words, hated to think about what you’d gone through before Beron, what your father had done. He nodded once, and placed a sheath and belt down on the table next to you before taking his leave. 

You’d awoken late for training that day, the sun had rose to a bright position in the mid-morning sky and you knew you’d never hear the end of it from Cassian. You dressed slowly into your training leathers, belting your dagger around your hips and took a deep breath. You walked to the balcony, noticing the males absence and winnowed to the training grounds at the Sidra. Cassian’s eyes found yours immediately and he sheathed his broadsword, turning to look at you. Azriel was perched on a fallen tree stump nearby, and his eyes traced your face, noting the darkened circles there. He’d heard you screaming in your sleep last night and his heart ached at the sound, his shadows slinking off to find you. 

“So you didn’t forget,” Cassian said, muscular arms crossing over his chest. “Tell me something, little girl, do you even want to be here?” He stressed the word want in his sentence in a way that had both you and Azriel narrowing your eyes. “This is the third day this week that you’ve been late to training, and the second that you’ve missed morning warm ups altogether.” He huffed a disbelieving laugh, “I’m beginning to think Rhys was wrong about you.” Azriel went still and he felt a bit of rage creep up his spine at his brother’s harshness. 

In the blink of an eye, you’d unsheathed your dagger and thrown it at the Illyrian general. It whizzed past his head, nicking his cheek, and landed in the training dummy behind him. “Fuck you,” you’d growled teeth bared, as you shifted a stance that begged for a fight. Cassian turned and pulled the knife from the dummy’s eye socket, before throwing in the dirt at your feet. “A little to the left next time you try to kill me,” he smirked. “If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t have missed, asshole,” you said as you fixed him with a glare and your jaw ticked in anger. Cassian’s face broke into a shit eating grin and he laughed, which made you sneer with frustration.

“Good to see you’re still alive in there,” he said smiling, “I was hoping we’d see that spark.” Your anger dissolved as fast as it built up. You reached down to pick your dagger from the dirt and sheathed it at your waist. “Seriously, Cassian, fuck you,” you said and grabbed a bow and quiver of arrows before stalking off to train alone. Cassian sighed and went to follow you but Azriel rose to feet to stop him, stepping into his path. “Let her calm down,” he suggested, placing a hand to his brother’s arm. Cassian sighed. He knew he was being rough with you, but it the only thing left he could think to do. “We’ve tried nice, brother. Tough love worked on Amren, maybe it’ll work on her too,” Cassian spoke softly before trotting after you. 

A few paces off you’d begun firing arrows into a target carved in the bark of an elm tree, teeth grinding. Cassian was right in his intent though, you had to get out of your own head if you were to move forward. You pulled an arrow from the quiver and nocking it on the bowstring and pulling it back until the bow met the pile at the tip. You heard him coming before you saw him.

“Listen, I’m just—” you heard Cassian’s voice and turned then, aiming and firing in his direction. The arrow flew through the air towards the General. The feathered fletching caught the bun at the top of his head, pulling hairs loose, before the tip burrowed into the tree behind him with an echoing noise.

“Mother above, you could’ve killed me!” The General shouted, face blanched. Azriel’s lip quirked up and he looked to you again, you were smiling, closed mouth but smiling, and he felt his heart grow warm at the sight. “I told you, asshole, I don’t fucking miss when I’m aiming to kill.” 

You laughed aloud, cheeks warm as you buried your face in Azriel’s chest. “I’ll go around threatening Cassian more often if it gets me a mate in the end.” The male at your side chuckled warmly and his hand found yours on his sternum. “He still talks about it, you know?” He offered with a shake of his head. “It was precisely the kind of thing Nesta would’ve done too.” 

You smiled back. “Good to know you Illyrians have a type.” He looked to you then and he smiled, eyes tracing your lips, nose, lashes, and the Winter white hair haloing your face. “Not a type, just blessings from the Mother,” he murmured softly. His hand trailed up your arm and pushing your hair off your shoulder and down your back. You blushed, warmth blooming on your chest and running up your neck to your face, painting your skin pink. 

 “Gods, who knew you had such a silver tongue,” you said chastising, looking to where his fingers played with yours as they rested on his chest. “You used to be so quiet,” you added, letting a small laugh escape you. Azriel shrugged and pushed up on an elbow as his hand left yours to run up your arm and cup your cheek. “Good to know you’re still thinking about my tongue,” he whispered before kissing you for the millionth time that night. 

It was mid-morning when Azriel ported you both to the River House. It was surprisingly empty, and you made your way to the kitchen to seek out food, still in the dress from the night before, though it was now wrinkled on your body. Rhysand had stocked the kitchen it would seem, as you found an array of fruits, vegetables, and meats in the cold storage there. 

“I guess Rhys was serious about quarantining us here,” you laughed before looking over your shoulder to find your mate, leaned against the counter, watching you with warmth. “If I cook for you again, are you going to ravish me?” You asked jokingly, pulling a knife from the block to begin prepping carrots for a quick stew.

He pressed forward then, coming behind you to push you into the marble, bringing his lips your shoulder and his hands to your belly. “I plan on ravishing you either way,” he said, lips tracing to the hollow below your ear, a spot that made you whimper as he’d found out the night before and catalogued in his head. You pressed your hips back against his, loving the feel of his body against your own.

 “Very interested in that, though I think it’ll be easier on a full stomach, so maybe go bathe while I cook,” you said, turning your head and nudging your nose into his own. He laughed again and the noise set your heart to skittering. You didn’t think you’d ever get used to having him like this, so free and warm.

You’d seen Azriel in every form. The warrior that fought with skilled precision, teeth bared as he cut down his adversaries; the Spymaster that tortured, maimed, and killed Night Court threats; the brother that took his friend’s teasing in stride, lips quirking silently as he shook his head. You’d never had him like this though, laughing and full of affection, touching and grasping so freely.

His hand found your chin and you knew he’d heard your thoughts again from the look in his eyes. His fingers stroked up your jawline, fingers pushing hair behind your ear. “There is no one in this realm, on this continent, male or female, that has as much of me as you do on any given day,” he whispered before he pushed away to stroll out of the kitchen and up the stairs. You let a shaky breath go from your chest. He was trouble. 

Later, after you’d both bathed and eaten until your bellies were full, you sat at the dining room table, sipping a glass of wine. “You asked me this morning when I knew,” he started, setting down his wine glass as his index finger began tracing circles into red table cloth next to it. “When did you know?” You laughed and took another sip of wine, you’d need it to keep up with him. “Mine’s not as violent,” you fixed him with a pointed look and he smirked.

You took a deep breath, “it was several months later, at Rita’s.” He laughed warmly in disbelief. “What?” Surely you weren’t serious? “What in the Cauldron could’ve happened at Rita’s to make you fall in love with me?” His eyes were twinkling under the fae lights. 

Mor had begged you to go and you’d told her no at least thirteen times. You’d grown fond of the blonde as had she with you. She’d helped you immensely in your first months with the Night Court. She knew what it was to be hollowed out by trauma, particularly trauma that extended from those in the Autumn Court. She also knew bad fathers. You were grateful to her and you’d opened to her in a way you’d hadn’t yet with anyone else in Rhys’ Inner Circle. 

“Please?” She tried again, “We can go into the city and get you a dress, I’ll even pay for it!” You rolled your eyes, “You won’t give up until I agree, huh?” She’d laughed then. Her laugh was the kind of full bodied female laugh you hoped you’d get back some day. “You already know me so well, Little One.” She nudged your shoulder, before patting your cheek and leaving you alone to dress for the day ahead.

Little One had started a few months prior when you poked fun at Cassian during a dinner. You’d been ready to maul the General in your first weeks, but you’d settled into a peaceful truce. He’d been talking loudly about the female he’d been with the night prior, all bravado and innuendo. “Amazing you were able to land her at all with that ego,” you’d muttered taking a sip of your wine. Amren sat across from you and her lips quirked as she looked your way in silent agreement. She and Cassian were also at odds often. Cassian slid his eyes to you and they narrowed as you feigned innocence, setting your glass down and looking to your nails. “Did you just mock me, Little One?” He asked, head tilting as he watched you pick at a cuticle. 

You met his eyes and raised a brow. “Tell me Cassian, is what they say about Illyrian wingspans true?” You said, eyes glancing to Rhysand and Azriel, both looking thrilled at this development. “Cause as I see it, you look to be outmatched.” The room went quiet before Cassian bellowed a loud laugh, bringing a hand to his chest. “Cauldron save us, she’s got jokes,” he snickered and your lips curved into a smile. He turned to you then, lips smirking. “For the record, it’s not the wingspan that matters, it’s how you use it.” His rebuttal caused you to let out a breathless laugh as you picked up your wine and rolled your eyes. 

Mor had dragged you into the shopping district of Velaris to find an appropriate dress. The first store was a bust, and the second was looking to be the same. “Come on, Little One, there has to be one you’re interested in!” She’d said, voice going a little whiny on the tail end of the sentence. You’d scanned the boutique again, and noticed a dress hanging in the far back corner that was looked like threaded starlight. “That one,” you pointed and her eyes slid to it before her lips broke into a knowing grin. “You go to the dressing room and I’ll grab it,” she offered and you’d nodded, wanting this to be over as soon as possible. 

She’d brought you the dress and you shut the curtain in her face as she laughed. You’d undressed slowly, eyes scanning skin as it appeared. Your eyes zoomed in on the heavy scarring at your legs, Gods you hated those markings. Once the dress slid on, you pulled up the zipper at the side and adjusted the bust line.

You loosed a loud breath, it was…. generous in the amount of skin it showed and the style screamed Night Court. You turned and realized the back went down to your bottom, showcasing the two dimples at the small of your back. The slit at the side came all the way to your hip. ‘Cauldron, this isn’t a dress, this is a scrap of fabric,’ you’d thought. 

You turned and opened the curtain stepping out to find Mor looking at you with an open mouth.  “Are you sure you aren’t into females?” She’d asked. “Because I’d love to keep you to myself tonight.” You’d blushed and laughed heartily. “Is it good?” You asked cautiously, turning in a circle. “Good? Little One, the males will be on their knees,” she said eyes twinkling with mischief. 

You’d bought the dress despite the insecurities and gone home the House of Wind to get dressed. Mor had sent Nuala and Cerridwen to you to help with your hair and make up and you’d thanked them profusely.

As the moon rose for the night, you stood in your quarters staring at the mirror on the wall opposite your bed. You had looked lively again, your cheeks were fuller and the hollows under your eyes were less bruised than they had been months prior. You sat on a bench at the foot of your bed and started to pull on your heels, a leg shining through the slit of the dress. 

Once you’d buckled the strap your shoes, you stood, a little wobbly. It’d nearly a year since you’d worn heels and the last time you had, you were set to be engaged to the Autumn Court princeling. You refused to dwell on that and moved toward the door, opening it and stepping into the hall.

Cassian was exiting of his room as you were shutting your door and your eyes met down the corridor. He let out a wolf whistle and began walking your way. “Well, well, well,” he started and you braced for his comment, “don’t you look pretty enough to eat.” You grimaced and looked at him before scoffing, “pig.” His laughter made your lips curve into a smile. 

You strolled down the steps to find Rhysand and Azriel waiting there. Rhysand looked to you and smiled warmly, “You clean up nice, Little One.” Azriel’s eyes found yours next and his jaw dropped, then shut quickly, muscle ticking. A gloved hand at his side set into a fist and he could hear the knuckles crack. “I think she’ll be fighting the males off tonight,” Mor piped, appearing next to you, “wouldn’t you lot agree?” 

Rhysand and Cassian hummed their agreements but Azriel’s eyes couldn’t look away from your form. The dress draped your body like liquid starlight, the slit at your hip had his fists clenching at the desire to touch. Mor walked you past the males and he caught glimpse of your exposed back and something primal reared its head shouting at him to grasp, lick, bite until you were covered in his marks. Cassian flanked the Shadowsinger and whistled low, eyes following you. “I’ll have to find her on the dance floor tonight,” he said, eyes gleaming as they traced your retreating form. Azriel, though he loved his brother dearly, wanted to rip his throat out for even glancing at you. 

Rita’s was littered with intoxicated fae. Mor grabbed your arm and pulled you to the bar, while Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel made their way to the section explicitly reserved for their use. As you stood at the bar with Mor, a male came up to you, leaning into your space and asking your name.

The male ventured a touch to your arm and you leaned away, disliking the overt physical attention. As he spoke, a gloved hand appeared between you and Azriel pushed his way into the space without apology or acknowledgement. “Hey, I was talking to her!” The male tried to protest loudly before Azriel turned and fixed him with a devastating look, causing the male to wilt before putting his hands up in surrender and walking away.  

You stumbled out a laugh as he turned back to you. “I think you may have hurt his feelings,” you said smiling, looking to the Shadowsinger. He eyes were already on you again, tracing your face, and hair, the long line of your neck. “That’s much too bad,” he said, signaling the bartender over and you both ordered a round of drinks.

“You look beautiful tonight,” the words came out of Azriel in a rushed whispered, as if he’d forced them out against his will. You turned to meet his eyes and your face warmed at the look there. “I was so nervous to wear this,” you breathed, “the last time I was in a dress and heels like these, I was engaged to marry a Vanserra.” You let out a small, cynical laugh. “Gods, I’m so glad I left.” 

Azriel softened then. “He didn’t deserve you, Autumn didn’t deserve you, I hope you know that,” he’d said, gloved hands laying flat on the bar top, the length of his middle finger grazing your own. You wanted to reach out to them, to ask why he wore the gloves around you, but you resisted. 

“For what it’s worth,” he continued, “I’m also glad you left, I’m glad you’re here most of all.” You met his hazel eyes again and traced his face. He was likely one of the most beautiful males you’d ever seen and he was being awfully sweet with you. He looked to Rhys then, the High Lord likely speaking into his mind. He smiled turning back to you, “Rhysand says he’s also glad you’re here,” he said mockingly and rolled his eyes. You laughed, a small tinkering thing, that made Azriel’s heart beat quicken. “Thanks, Az,” you smiled broadly at him and he knew for sure and certain you would ruin him.

You turned to your drink then as the bartender sat it down in front of you. You picked it up and took a long sip. If Azriel kept looking at you like that and speaking to you in hushed tones that made your heart race, you’d need about five more of these. 

You heard him take a deep, steadying breath at your side, turned to look at him, brow furrowing slightly. You were ready to ask if he was alright when he finally spoke. “Cassian said he was going to ask you to dance tonight,” he ventured and you snorted. ‘Of course he did,’ you thought with a roll of your eyes and a shake of your head. “Would you allow me to be your first?” He asked, holding out a gloved hand. 

You looked to his hand then back to his hopeful hazel eyes, and you blinked a little slowly, a little disbelievingly. Just when you thought you figured him out, he threw you for a loop. You took his hand and let him lead you to the dance floor. As your body moved with his, you couldn’t help but wish for forever in this moment, forever in his hands, and his eyes. Mother above, you were in trouble. 

“That dress was pure sin, Little One,” Azriel smirked. “And I told you, I am quite fond of dancing.” You huffed a laugh and looked to him, a little bashful. Azriel laughed softly again. “Cassian pouted for days after that night,” he spoke, “he was mad I stole you away.” You wondered if Cassian could tell how utterly smitten you were after that night. “I think he was a little infatuated with you in those early days too.” 

You grimaced. “That’s much too bad,” you said, echoing his words from centuries prior. You stood then and stepped towards him to halt at his side, leaning down to press a kiss to his hair. “I always had eyes for you, baby.” 

You trailed a hand up his arm to his shoulder, then back to the shoulder joint of his wing, tracing the bone up to the clawed crest. His breath guttered out of him as he closed his eyes, brows furrowing at the sensation that zipped down his spine and settled in his lower abdomen. 

“One more question for you,” you said softly. “No,” he growled out, “I’ve had enough questions, I want to have you again.” His eyes opened and looked to you, scarred hands grasping your hips, fingers digging into the flesh there. “One more and I’ll give you whatever you want,” you offered. He raised a brow. “Whatever I want?” He questioned and you nodded. “Even if I want to bend you over this table and take you from behind until you come all over my cock?” 

Your eyes watched his predatory gaze and a feline grin appeared on your face. You laughed again, “considering that’s a win-win, I’ll gladly trade for that.” He laughed too and rolled his eyes in fondness. “Fine,” he conceded, “one more question, mate.” His hand traced back, grasping the flesh of your ass through your thin silk housedress and you gasped, “then I get to have you in every way I want.”

You had to shake the lust from your thoughts, focusing on the question that had been circling your mind since your return to River House. “Why didn’t you to tell me of the bond?” You asked softly, hand resting on the arm that held you. He took a deep breath, he should’ve expected this eventually, but in all honesty, he’d hoped to put it off as long as possible. 

“I just mean,” you took a shaky breath, growing a little nervous. “It snapped so early for you, and I—” you swallowed, “I wouldn’t have turned you away, surely you must know that?” Your eyes found his and he saw the imploring look there, brows slanting as your eyes swam with emotions. He took a grounding breath and his hand traced up your hip to your back as he pulled you in to bury his face in the soft of your stomach. 

“I was scared,” he said, though it came out muffled. You combed fingers through his hair soothingly and he tilted his head up to face you. “You were—” he stopped himself, “you are the single most magical thing in this realm.” He spoke softly, as if he was scared he’d burst the bubble of newfound love that had surrounded the two of you in the last few weeks.

“When I was a child, my half brothers tortured me,” he started, eyes wincing. “They did this, you know,” he held up a scarred hand. You nodded, Rhysand told you of Azriel’s brothers and father years ago when the subject of Windhaven came up and how you would likely not be sent on any missions there. “For my gift with shadows, they’d called me every name under the sun, insisted I was a bastard child, beat me, shunned me, cast me out. I was alone until Rhys and his mother took me in.” Your eyes teared up when you thought of how isolated he must’ve felt, how damaged. You knew feeling well. 

“When I knew I loved you, I resolved myself as unworthy of your gaze, your touch, anything,” he sighed and his hands pulled from you to fall in his lap. “I figured I’d been alone for centuries up until that point, and it was likely I’d be alone forever.” You pulled one of his hands into your own and brought the knuckles to your lips. “I love you,” you said softly, lips resting against the marred skin there, “I hope you know that.”

He looked to you and he smiled, a small watery smile as his eyes closed and he nodded his head. There was that gift again. “You know,” he said, “more than your beauty, or strength, I admire your courage and vulnerability. I think that’s what scared me the most.” He spoke softly again, wanting to preserve the shroud of gentle love that surrounded the two of you. 

“I saw how you were with Mor and Amren. How you cared for Cass, despite his explosive anger when Rhys went Under the Mountain for fifty years. How you attended Rhys when he returned in shambles, traumatized and broken.” He looked to you, eyes shining. “You took it all in stride with such….. care and endless love and I—” he paused, bottom lip trembling. “I didn’t think I’d ever be worthy of your heart, of your attention, so I took what I could get. Your glances, your smiles, the teasing at dinners. I took it all and I made myself content with it,” he shuttered out a fragile, broken breath, eyes falling to the shadows that gathered at his feet attempting to console their master. 

“I’ve loved you in secret for two centuries, Little One, I’ve loved you so much my chest ached and I thought I would die from the unsung bond that resided there. My soul would know yours in any life. At the ends of the earth in total darkness, it would still find you.” He let out a shuddering breath, “you’re the other half of me.” His eyes found yours then and the look there made you feel overwrought with emotion.

You and Azriel had been friends for two centuries. You laughed and cried together. You’d shared meals and secrets, dances and fleeting glances, little chaste touches. You’d told him of your father, of Beron, showed him your scars. You’d pined for him for just as long and to know he’d silently yearned for you in return, your heart felt like it might break apart.

“The bond snapped for me during the war,” you offered him a small secret of your own and his eyes found yours, going wide at the revelation.

The second war with Hybern had been a brutal thing. Feyre and Cassian had taken to recruiting help out of the Ancient Prison on the northern shore of the Night Court due to Prythian’s limited numbers. You’d known it was a suicide mission going in and you’d nearly been right. You’d fought alongside death gods and monsters alike in a battle that would be legend for ages to come.

“I wrote you a letter before we left for battle,” another secret, but for him, you’d bare your soul. “I was going to tell you then,” you continued, “I’d been in love with you for 189 years at that point. I was so far gone for you but I’d assumed, that if you wanted me, I would’ve known. You would’ve said something, anything. So I put it all in a letter, worried I wouldn’t return alive.” His breath hitched, remembering the sight of you impaled on a sword, bleeding out in his arms.  He’d taken the soldier’s head off their body as penance and it still didn’t feel like enough. You let out a small gurgling laugh, throat tight, eyes wet with tears. “Sometimes I can’t believe I did.” 

You took a steadying breath and leaned to kiss his forehead, his eyes closing from the contact, mouth humming. You leaned your cheek on the crown of his head, your thumb rubbing soothing circles in the space behind his ear. His hands went around to your back, nose and cheek resting against the cradle of your chest as he listened to your heart, still beating strong beneath. The two of you were the sort of image that artists carved into marble, the picture of lovers so inseparably bound that they were one eternally, in every life. 

“In that letter I apologized for not telling you sooner, said I didn’t need the Cauldron to know it was you my soul sang for. That you were the one the stars had fated me to meet.” He clenched his eyes shut from where his head rested on your rib cage. Every word you uttered was like a poultice to his damaged soul, filling the cracks that had been there since his adolescence. 

He was wrong when he’d thought you’d ruin him. No, you’d save him, from the darkness that encroached his mind, the insecurities that lingered there. You were a flower blooming against all odds in the shadows, and he’d do anything for you. All his wasted centuries of dreaming had been given a name and form in you.

“I’m glad I ran from Autumn that day, glad it was Rhys that found me in the wilds, glad it was the Night Court that saved me, but more than anything, I am glad that every step I’ve taken in this life has led me straight to you.” Your hand dragged forward, over his cheek, to gently tip his chin up to face your gaze. “May you never doubt the depths of my love for you.” You kissed his forehead then before moving your lips to the space between his brows, the tip of his nose. His eyes fell shut and his hands came to hold on tightly to your wrists for fear he’d float away. You kissed his cheek, and eyelids, before making your way to his mouth. 

This kiss was just as electrifying as the first and he pressed his insistent mouth to yours desperately. He pulled at your bottom lip with his teeth and took your gasp as the opportunity to slip his tongue against your own. He could kiss you for a millennia and he would not get enough. He wanted all that you had to give and everything after that too. Nothing, not even flying, could compare to how his heart sped when you kissed him like this. He poured centuries of yearning into it.

He pulled off of your mouth and kissed the corner of your lips before leaning back to gaze into your eyes. “I’ll need to tell Rhysand not to expect us back for a few months,” he said, hand coming up to brush a stray hair behind the shell of your ear. Your brain, still two paces behind from that kiss, registered what he was saying and you let out a breathless laugh. “Months? Thought the frenzy was a few weeks?” You replied, still smiling, tears drying and he shrugged, fingertips tracing the skin at your collarbone. “I’ve got two centuries of love to make up for,” he stated softly before smiling in a feral, cunning way, “and I plan on taking my time.” 

Azriel ported you to the bedroom and you’d laughed, “I can walk you know.” He smiled, leaning down, kissing your cheek. “Save your energy, Little One.” He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled you to stand between his legs. He allowed himself to look at you, unhurried, a little predatory. You did the same, eyes passing over tanned skin and freckles, tattoos and scars as your gaze made it’s way down to his hips, where you notice his length pressing tightly against the front of his pants. Your eyes trace back up to his, cheeks a little pink, only to find him smirking. 

“Are you ever going to be sated?” You laughed. You pulled the hem of your dress up to lean over him and settle a knee next to his hip as you crawled into his lap. He hummed, pulling your hips to his own. He traced his nose along the skin of your throat, inhaling your scent, committing to memory as he nosed the silk strap of your housedress, pushing it down your shoulder and pressing his mouth to the skin there. “For you? Never.” His tongue laved at the length of your throat, as he made his way up before bringing his mouth to yours.

This kiss was slower than the one you’d shared in the dining room. Tongues entwining, teeth biting. He dove deeper, sucking against your tongue before licking along the bow of your upper lip. He rocked his hips up to meet your own, his cock sliding against your slit in a way that had you gasping. His hand pushed your gown up over your hips to your waist and his gaze fixated on the center of your hips, you’d forgone underwear after your bath. “No panties?” He breathed into your mouth. “Maybe I should’ve taken you on the dining room table after all.” 

You laughed, rutting your hips against his own, loving the sound that rumbled in his chest. You pulled the little silk dress up and over your head, baring yourself entirely to his gaze. “There will time for that,” you said, voice laced with promise, “but I’d like for you to take me in a bed, properly.” He gave a little laugh then, bringing his face to your own, teasing at your mouth again. “Under the stars wasn’t romantic enough?” His hands found your hips and fingertips pressed into the flesh there. You were sure you’d be bruised all over come tomorrow. 

He leaned back pulling your hips up his abdomen. “C’mere,” he commanded, jerking his head in instruction as he laid flat upon the bed, wings spreading in full. He looked like a god this way, but the way he looked at you, muscles rippling as he tensed, jaw ticking, hair debauched, love bites down the tanned column of his throat from your mouth, eyes heavy lidded with lust; if he was a god then certainly you were his goddess. He growled then the noise escaping him unbidden as he hauled you higher to his chest, your hand shooting out to his shoulder to steady yourself.

“You are a goddess and I am but a hopeless disciple,” his voice had pitched deep with want, desire alight in his eyes and you thought you might never tire of seeing him this hungry for you. His fingers dug into your thighs and he hooked your knees to pull you higher. “Let me worship you until I find absolution.” He pulled you to his chin, teeth nipping at the flesh of your inner thighs. His found your eyes again and he nodded to you. “You’re going to sit on my face, sweet one, and I am going to feast on you like the goddess you are.” 

Your breath left you in a shuttering broken gasp, and you leaned up, shuffling the last few inches. His arms wrapped around your legs, caging you to his face as hands came around to open your cunt to his view. He let out a primal noise that had the air leaving your lungs in pant and your hands grasped the headboard in some pitiful attempt at grounding yourself. He nosed your clit before pulling you down on his mouth, suckling at you like a man starved. 

His tongue pressed flat against your clit and you thought you might break apart. You were sensitive from the night before and you had to actively try not to rock down against his face. As if reading your thoughts, he pulled you forward, hands grasping your hips and rutting you against his hot mouth. You couldn’t help the shuddering moan that left your throat and he hummed along with you, the vibrations sending shocks up your spine. 

He circled his tongue in a pattern, quick flicks then slow drags of friction that had pleasure zipping through you until your thighs were twitching, nails digging into the wood of the headboard, hips rocking on his mouth. He nosed at your clit as his tongue slipped down to circle your opening, collecting the wetness that gathered there, groaning at your taste. His lips returned to your clit and he sucked it into his mouth and hollowing his cheeks, speeding the flicking of his tongue until your hands were shaking and your moans keened to a higher octave. 

“Azriel,” you gasped, a trembling hand found his hair, nails scratching. “Az — fucking Gods.” You looked down to him between your thighs and he watched you, the definition of sin. His cheeks had grown pink, brows furrowed, hazel eyes gone molten as he nuzzled his face into you. He unhanded your thigh to slide back to your ass, fingernails digging into the ample flesh there before he released it and his open palm came into fierce contact with the cheek. You jolted at the impact and the sound that left you was the highest, most trembling whine he’d heard come out of you. He catalogued it in his mind for later. 

His hand soothed the skin at your behind before smacking the skin again, the contact rippling across the flesh like a tiny earthquake. Your hips tilted against his chin faster, more desperate and your moans grew closer together, a little more frantic as you felt yourself approaching your peak. His tongue circled you again before he sucked the button into his mouth and began a steady, insistent pattern. 

You could feel the pleasure focusing, your lower belly tightening.  “Az— I swear I’m—” you gasped and your head fell back, exposing your chest and neck to his greedy view. “I’m going to come, baby,” you whined deep, hips canting in tight circles, desperate for release. He hummed an affirmation and his hands grasped your hips to guide your through it. Your release hit and the moan that left you was shattering.

You leaned back, hands finding purchase on his chest, as he pressed kisses to your thighs. “Gods,” you gasped, falling to his side as you moved off of him and pressed a hand to your chest, catching your breath. “Fuck me,” your eyes shut for a moment and you felt his lips pressing tender kisses to your eyelids. He kissed to your cheek, the corner of your mouth, before whispering devastation there. “I told you my love, I want to take you apart slow.”

His lips came to your chest, pressing a kiss to the jugular notch at the base of your throat between the clavicles. “There is no war,” kiss, “no mission,” another kiss, moving south to the globe of your breast, “no threat this time.” He breathed into your sternum, tongue tracing the skin of your cleavage. 

You were right that Azriel was mouthy. Mother above, now that the gates had opened, he was bent on taking everything from you and you would let him. You would let him shatter you to pieces, trusting he’d put you back together again. 

“You’re wearing too much,” you complained, fingers pulling at the waist of his trousers, which seemed to have grown impossibly tight around his hardness. Your hand pushed under the band and fingers grasped him firmly, his gasp escaping directly into the skin over your heart. He rutted into your hand, mouth coming up to your own as he kissed you desperately, all teeth and tongue.

You pulled back from the kiss and fixed him with an imploring look. “Can I put my mouth on you now?” You asked softly, batting your eyelashes a bit, just shy of begging. He felt desire rip through him, his cock giving a jerk. A growl released from his throat. “As much as I want you on your knees for me,” he breathed deeper. “As much as I want to fuck this pretty little mouth,” his thumb tugged at your bottom lip and you leaned forward to pull it between your lips, tonguing the scarred skin there as you sucked. 

His eyes fixated on the action, pupils blown wide.  He pulled his thumb from your mouth and spread his hand to grasp your neck at the height of your throat, “I thought our bargain was every way that I wanted you?” He watched your eyes flutter as he squeezed from the sides, your breath hitching, cunt growing wetter. He could smell your arousal and the feral need of the newly minted bond had him feeling utterly primal. “And right now, I want you on your hands and knees, begging as I take you from behind.” His voice had pitched deep, and you thought you might never recover from this. 

His hand traced down to your wrist, pulling it from his cock and then he patted your ass. “Be a good girl for me.” Your breath came out shaky and you nodded, scrambling to turn around and bend down to present yourself for him. A pleased hum settled in his chest as he stood to slip off his trousers before kneeling behind you. He ran his eyes up the expanse of your back, the scars that now resided there. He’d kill anyone who threatened you again, he’d take hands from their bodies if they touched you.

He watched your shoulders roll as you adjusted your weight, and he was reminded of every backless gown you’d worn in the last two centuries. How he had never allowed himself to touch you in the way he wanted.

He ran a scarred hand up the center of your back, leaning forward and grasping your neck from behind, bringing you up and into the long line of his front. His nose trailed your shoulder and his lips found the spot below your ear again. His teeth came in contact with the flesh there, biting then pressing his tongue into the skin to soothe the sting. The little whimper you let out made him smile, he loved you like this. His other hand reached down to guide his cock to your core, hips dragging the length through to slick there. His brain catalogued each sound that you made, he was mapping you out slowly, learning your body and memorizing all. 

The hand holding your neck released its grip, and he pushed you back forward, your hands trembled as they came to hold your weight.

Before leaving you, his fingers gathered your hair and he wrapped the length of it around his hand once before fisting and pulling, causing a low moan to escape you. “Hold on, little mate.” His voice ground out and he guided himself into your warm cunt, pulling back once, then twice to work you open until he sheathed himself fully.

His hips were flush against the flesh of your ass as he ground in and your breath began to come in pants. You were so in over your head and you loved it. He laughed, ‘I heard that, my love,’ he spoke into your mind. ‘Let me know if you want to stop.’ You nearly laughed aloud. ‘As if,’ you repeated your words from the night before.

His hand tugged at your hair in response as he pulled out to the tip and slammed back in, hard and deep. Your back arched and your arms threatened collapsed. He began a slow and steady pace, rutting to the hilt and pulling out before slamming back home, skin slapping against skin. You could hear the loud suck of your cunt on every pull, the noise itself was desperately erotic, and Azriel fucking loved it. He wanted you like this like always. He wanted to stay in the warmth of your cunt for the rest of his days. He picked up his pace and groaned when he felt you clench around him as a wanton moan escaped you. 

His hand released your hair and he leaned over your form, kissing your shoulders, holding you tightly as he pushed back to the hilt and ground in, small cants of his hips causing your breath to tremble.

“Azriel, baby, you’re gonna ruin me,” you spoke quietly, head falling forward. He laughed darkly, biting at the skin at the top of your spine. His hand grasped the front of your throat and brought you back up into him, mouthing at your shoulder. “Tell me you’re mine,” he ground out, hips pushing faster. His other hand found its way to your front, tracing down your soft stomach to rub slow circles at your clit. “Tell me you’re mine and let me fuck you into oblivion.” 

You groaned feeling your orgasm crawling up your spine, cunt tensing. “I’ve been yours for two centuries,” you gasped out, breathless, head falling back to his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut. He growled out something primal, but you continued, delirious with pleasure as his fingers and cock broke you apart. “I’ll give you anything.” His fingers tightened at your neck and he slammed to the hilt, grinding in. 

“Anything?” He questioned, voice shaky with need. “Would you let me take you apart? Would you let me ruin your sweet cunt daily? Would you let me fuck a baby into you?” Your mind blanked and your voice pitched into a deep moan, a base desire possessing you. “Yes,” you nodded, breathless. “All of it,” you gasped, “anything for you, mate.” His eyes pinched shut, a low whine escaped somewhere from the pits of him. Mother above. His fingers squeezed your neck and he picked up the pace, fucking you faster. You shook with each impact of his hips, your breath leaving you in small whines. 

The scarred tips of his fingers worked your clit faster. “You’ll give me anything?” He questioned again, breathless, pace faltering as his own release tightened at the base of spine. “Come for me, my love, come with me.” Your breath caught at your throat as your cunt tightened impossibly around him and he groaned deep. You called his name as your climax hit and he keened a low whine, hips grinding into you, his seed painting your walls. 

He released your throat and gave a shaky laugh as he grasped your chin to find your mouth. The kiss was utterly depraved and your walls fluttered again, making him groan into your mouth. You pulled back and your eyes found his over your shoulder. “A baby, huh?” You spoke, voice a little wobbly. He wanted to shrink under the weight of your gaze, the question there. “Not yet,” he spoke softly, “but if you do decide to gift me with a child, I’ll be the luckiest male alive.” You smiled and kissed him, softer this time, heart singing at the promise there.  

He pulled out of you and let you collapse against the bed, rolling over to rest at your back. His eyes found your cunt and he watched with rapt obsession as his release leaked from you. You traced his gaze and a laugh escaped you. “Come here, my love,” you spoke softly, opening your arms. “I want to get some rest before you go feral again.”

He smiled, laughing lightly before crawling up the bed to where you awaited him. He settled into your embrace, head resting on your chest while his restless fingers began idly tracing the skin of your arm. Your fingers set to combing through the strands of his hair and his eyes closed, pleased with gentle intimacy of the action. “I love you,” he spoke softly, exhaustion beginning to creep in on him. You smiled, fingers trailing to his back, caressing the skin at the base of his wing. “As I love you,” you whispered, “more than anything.” He hummed and nuzzled to the skin of your chest as darkness overtook him. 

[mondaymelon]

₊⊹ 𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋 ❤︎ | yandere!xiao, childe, scaramouche x gn!reader

art by @/syaden8 on twt!!

⟢ cw: a failed escape attempt from them... yandere, dark themes, petnames, mutilation (xiao, scara), violence, drugging (scara) etc. please proceed with caution! thank you.

⟢ "your order's denial is causing me trial !"

"Ah."

XIAO's lips moved, and it was that single noise that escaped.

For your room lay barren, empty, cold, the harsh winter breeze drafting through the shattered window, the bars covering it having been forcibly bent aside. "It..." For a moment, his body swayed, his own legs unable to support his weight. Then, his balance stabilized, his once by a fraction wider eyes having narrowed. "It seems my songbird has escaped."

Unacceptable. The word repeated in his head, like a mantra, a prayer, resounding within his ears, despite the silence, despite the cold that bit at his skin as he trudged through the snow, his spear at his side. A tiny, devilish voice that tugged on his ears and whispered out tales of his sin.

"Found you."

"N-No- please-" His gaze sharpened in annoyance. Desperate, your voice hoarse and cracking by the syllable, hurling yourself forward one more step, just one more, your bloody, bare feet scraped and bruised. This wasn't right, how come you seemed so distressed?

No, you of course sounded better as his songbird, in a pristine little cage, singing for him, and only him, happy tunes of joy and pleasure.

"...And as a songbird can live with its wings clipped, surely you'll understand if I...?"

The shackles locked tight around your wrists, and your useless, wretched legs, bones shattered by a single blow.

It's an unfortunate predicament, but it's the only way. ❤︎

"Oh, so the chase is on?"

CHILDE shouldn't be laughing, but oh, he was.

It's a twisted sound, with the corners of his mouth distorted upwards in a haphazard smile, his eyes blown as a dark flush of red descended upon his cheeks. "So you've decided to play this little game of cat and mouse. Very well, if that's what you want, darling!"

You aren't making this difficult enough. His keen gaze spots all the traces you've left behind, broken branches, ruffled leaves, a torn piece of the clothing he had gifted you... it's all imbued with your essence, honey sweet on his lips.

Why would you even want to leave him?

It's that thought that makes him pause upon finding you, your trembling form sprawled across the bloodied snow as he stands over you, his own shadow casting you in darkness.

That's right, why would you? He's been nothing but loving. He's catered to your every need, has he not? He's bought this house for you, all the clothes you wear, the food you eat, the bed you sleep in... what right did you have to defy his affections, now that he had made them ever so clear?

If anything, it was insulting.

Oh, but did he truly feel insulted? After all, an offended person wouldn't have taken you like that, wouldn't have knocked you unconscious and wouldn't have carried the delicate you in his arms back to home.

Maybe a better description would be "longing." Longing for your praise, longing for your thanks, longing for the smiles you'd send his way... how come your eyes have faded, since then? It's strange, he's never seen you look so... determined before, not since today.

Ah, but what did it matter?

This puny escape attempt of yours... his tongue tasted bitter.

It wouldn't happen again. He'd make sure of it, so please, don't mind the chains, would you? ❤︎

"They... dare?"

SCARAMOUCHE's expression contorts to one of rage, his brows sharply angled downwards and his violet eyes wide, quivering.

Haha... what a fool he was. He should've been more attentive, how had he not noticed your strange movements? The way you gave him a forced smile everytime he returned home, the way you'd greet him at the door with the dinner you made, and he had finally thought you had accepted his confession all those weeks ago, he finally thought you had gotten used to and started liking your life here, finally thought-

And then he thought nothing at all as his body swayed and fell to the ground. The audacity, to go and dig through his things, to go, find, and use the very drug he had used to bring you home.

By the time he awoke, the house was but a cold expanse, barren of your warmth, and he clenched his fists so tightly, his nails kissed red crescents into his skin that weeped with every flex of his fingers.

"To pull such a parlor trick against me like this... ah, doll. Don't think you'll get away with this leniently."

When he found you, not "if", he'll make sure to reprimand you properly. If breaking your spirit wasn't enough, then he'd have to break your mind too. He's already decided that he'll reshape the pure thing with his own, dirtied hands, into something that will burn only for him.

Surely, a couple missing limbs, here and there, wouldn't obstruct that light, would it now? ❤︎

(a/n) as i said on my sideblog, something about writing for toxic mentally distressed emotionally broken and heavily reliant yandere characters who turn to violence to show their love is. just so. oddly... comforting?? was going to make this longer and then some shitty shit shit went down so. yay. tears.

if you enjoyed please consider following me or leaving a note on this post!! they are very appreciated, and i am very close to hitting a follower goal that i want to reach before the new years ! thank you.

໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment ♡) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader

-> teehee what if yall left a message on my christmas tree 😶😶😶

[emilys-bangs]

loved your other fanfics for Emily! Could I request a Emily x fem!Reader fic with fluff and maybe some angst? Maybe one of the two gets hurt and the other is scared for them? <3

Thanks! And tysm for requesting! I hope this is similar to what you had in mind <3

———— Wounded hearts | emily prentiss x reader

Tags: established relationship, hurt/comfort, typical cm violence, mentions of blood, use of petnames, no use of yn, bau!reader

Word count: 1.6k

Your heart flutters like a raven’s wing. Even now, with Emily right in front of you, sitting on the ledge of an ambulance and grumbling at the EMT—more than enough sign that she’s actually okay—you feel the residual fear lingering in your bones, sticking to your skin.

The unsub was operating out of an abandoned warehouse. It was huge, covering several blocks, and you were running out of time; he had a pattern of killing once every three weeks before going dark for a whole year, and then striking again.

Hotch had the team split up to search the property, and when all of you had reported back except for Emily, your heart dropped to your stomach. You ran to the section she’d occupied, your footsteps thundering on the floor as you yelled her name, the sound echoing in the endless space.

When you finally found her, Morgan was there, handcuffing the unsub on his knees as Emily stood in front of them, breathing heavily. She was holding up her arm, blood dripping down her elbow and to the floor, her chest heaving as she tucked sweaty bangs behind her ear with her other hand.

“Emily.” Your voice broke. When she turned, her eyes dazed from the blood loss, you saw the bruises and split lip. Your stomach had churned with nausea as you caught the unsub’s bloody knife, darkened with your girlfriend’s blood. 

Emily could hold her own, you knew that. And as beaten as she was, she still managed to take control over the unsub, keeping him subdued just until Morgan came to cuff him. But the logical part of your brain hadn’t reminded you of that as you heard her labored breathing, saw the dark drip of her blood fall to the cement floor. You only saw the slight way she swayed, the small huff of relief she let out as your eyes met hers. Only felt the twist in your stomach at the stark bruises marring her face.

As you pull yourself out of the reel of memories, your gaze sharpens on her again.

She sits on the very edge of the ambulance, ready to stand the second the medic gives her the all clear. Her pale skin is darkened with bruises, the ivory of her cheek lost in a layering of blue and deep purple. Red crawls up her jaw, the imprint of the unsub’s knuckles still lingering on her skin and growing more obvious as she grinds her teeth at the EMT’s prodding. He bends over the long gash on her arm; it runs from the bottom of her thumb to just shy of her elbow.

The blood is wiped away now, only forming in beads along the gash, but the sheer length of it makes your stomach churn. Emily must feel your searing gaze on her, because she ignores the medic and looks up, forcing her grimace away as her eyes meet yours.

You haven’t said anything since you’d found her, but the fear still clings to you, making itself known in the way you bite your lip and fiddle with the material of your shirt.

“Babe, I’m fine.” Emily says, her voice raspy as she tries for a smile. It tugs more at the gash on her lip and you frown as blood blooms red again. “Can you stop worrying? Please?”

She might as well have asked you to stop the sun from rising.

“Can I stop worrying?” You give a small scoff, mostly to clear your voice from the tears gathering at the back of your throat. “Your face is ten shades of purple, Emily.” You hate the way your voice shakes. “Your arm was practically ripped open—”

“Honey, it doesn’t even need stitches,” she coaxes.

“Um, actually it does.” The EMT interrupts softly. He’s young, clearly still fresh, his hair flopping over his forehead and his frame lanky with youth.

Emily gives him a dirty look. “Can we have a minute?” She bites out through her teeth, her eyes murderous as she rips her arm out of his hold.

The EMT shies away. Ducking his chin into his chest, he mumbles, “Sure,” and scurries to the front of the ambulance, leaving you and Emily alone.

“He’s just trying to help.” 

The way your voice shakes doesn’t go unnoticed by her.

Emily’s eyes go soft—the way they always do for you. She taps the space next to her. “Sit with me.” She murmurs.

You do. The ledge of the ambulance is hard and your shoulder bumps gently against hers, but you look straight ahead. Her eyes are hot on your face; you focus on the dark silhouette of the warehouse, still too unsettled by the bruises on her skin. 

Deep down, you know it’s ridiculous. It’s not the first time you’ve seen her like this and you both know damn well it won’t be the last. Maybe, if you try to justify it, you could chalk it up to the fact that this is the first time she’s gotten hurt as your girlfriend. 

Not SSA Prentiss. Em. Up till now the only bruises you’ve seen on her alabaster skin were ones you’d put there yourself, marks of love from your teeth and hands and lips, tattooing your reverence on her body if only for a little while.

Tears sting behind your eyes as Emily reaches for your hand. Your fingers are loosely held in a fist, but her hand curls around yours. Slowly, she coaxes it straight and laces her fingers through your own, then turning them so your joint hands settle on your thigh, palm side up.

“I’m okay, dolcezza.” 

If not for the rasp to her honeyed voice, you might’ve believed her.

You turn to face her. She’s so close, the fluorescent lighting of the ambulance harshly illuminating the bruises. “Don’t lie to me, Em.” Begging has always been beneath you, but when it comes to her, all your principles are thrown out the window. Desperation sticks to your words, the vice around your heart making you sound breathless. “Never lie.” You plead.

“Okay,” she breathes, her eyes widening. She tightly squeezes your hand, “Okay, I won’t. It hurts. But I’ve had worse,” she quickly says as your vision begins to blur.

How very Emily of her, to be so quick to reassure, quick to soothe someone’s worries before her own. It makes her all the more maddening, all the more remarkable and endearing and unfortunately, exactly the kind of woman you fell in love with.

“Sweetheart,” you murmur, shaking your head as you carefully cup her cheek. The hitch in her breath is audible, but somehow you know it’s because of your tears and not your touch. “You don’t have to hide your pain from me.” 

“Can you blame me?” Emily whispers, her shoulders rising in a helpless shrug. “If it makes you cry, of course I will.” She says softly. It makes it worse that her voice is sincere. Her eyes, still clouded with pain, are earnest, and you don’t know if you want to laugh or cry.

“How heroic of you.” You croak, sniffling as a few warm tears finally slip down your cheeks. Her mouth parts, her eyes widening, and you know some protest is underway so you close the small distance and kiss her as gently as you dare.

She tastes like blood. Her mussed, sweaty bangs tickle your skin as she leans in close, places her hand on the curve of your waist and squeezes over your shirt. You’re careful, shying away from the cut even as she chases you, wordlessly imploring you to kiss her like you always do, with near reckless abandon. Ignoring her signals, you place a final soft kiss on her mouth before you pull away. 

“Please don’t, Emily.” You whisper. She raises her hand and thumbs your wet cheek, a small frown on her face as her finger slips on your tears. “This isn’t about me, it’s about you.” You cover her hand with your own. Her eyes meet yours, dark and lovely and shining with the selfless love she’s full to the brim with. “I don’t want you to hide anything from me. Not your pain or anything else.”

Another warm tear falls on your joint hands.

Emily wipes it away. Taking in a shuddering breath, she blows it out slowly and leans forward to press her forehead against yours. “I love you, you know.” She says quietly. Her voice is hoarse, her eyes a little more wet than they were before.

A small smile pulls at your lips. “I know, sweetheart. I love you back.” Taking your hand off hers, you tuck her bangs back behind her ears. The bruises are clearer now that they’re out of the way, but you shift your gaze back to her eyes. “Now, will you be a good girl and let the EMT do his job?” Your voice is the slightest bit teasing as you try to lift the mood.

A flimsy smile flits over her face. Emily grabs her lip between her teeth and you mentally grimace as it pulls on her cut. “It hurts.” She admits.

The soft admission both warms you up and makes your heart clench. Gently, you pull her lip from the cage of her teeth. “I know that too. I’m coddling you when we get home, whether you like it or not.”

Emily snorts lightly, her breath skipping across your skin. Her eyes light up despite the pain, and both your smiles are a little more genuine. “If you insist.”

“But you have to get stitched up first.”

“Fuck.”

taglist: @suckerforcate

Reblogs and comments mean the world; I’d love to hear your feedback! Prompts are very very welcome <3

[misserabella]

ik ure taking a break from reqs, so respond to this whenever u feel like it! :3 ure rlly good at writing and i alw wait for ur upds ahaha

do u think u can write where abby takes it? ive never seen anyone write about it. it doesnt necessarily have to be sub!abby ehehe

make the strap purple and 7.5

a/n; thanks, it means a lot to me! i hope you really like it. thanks for the amazing request! <3

7.5

abby anderson x fem reader!

cw; +18 content! minors dni!, make out sessions, teasing, choking, fingering, oral sex (all abby receiving), strap on usage, multiple orgasms, piv? sex (abby and r receiving (only mention at the very very end)), hair pulling, cursing, tit and nip play, harsh and needy dirty sex…

“no.”

“but baby, please.”

“nuh-uh. you’re crazy if you think you’re really gonna fuck that thing in me.” she pointed at your new acquisition; a purple dildo that reached the 7,5 inches.

“come on. it’s not that big.” you tried, but she was not having it.

“that’s going to break me in half.” she shook her head. you smirked and she pointed at you with her eyebrows rose. “no. it’s final.”

you whined, clinging to her shoulders and pecking her cheek.

“please?” your doe eyes came into action. she stood impasible. you left a kiss on her jawline. “please abby.” another on her neck, and another, and another… you felt her slowly give into you and how good it felt, groaning. “it won’t hurt i promise. i’ll make you feel so good baby.” she gritted her teeth as you sucked a bruise on her neck and your fingers snuck onto the waistband of her pants. “will stretch you out with my tongue first, fuck my fingers into your pussy until you’re all loose and perfect for my cock.” you muttered on her skin, and she shivered. her hand found it’s way onto your hair to tug when you pushed your hand inside her sweats, teasing her over her boxers.

“princess…” she groaned, and you smirked. you were winning her over. you knew. and she knew. you cupped her cunt.

“do it for me. hm?” she grunted. and after a couple of seconds in silence her hands came down to the waist band of her sweats to start pushing them down. you smirked and slowly pushed her onto the bed. she fell on it, and you quickly pushed her shirt over her shoulders, leaving her on her sports bra. she hummed against your mouth when you kissed her, your tongue pushing inside her mouth as you hurriedly pulled her pants and boxers down.

her hand was now on your hair, sighing at the feeling of your fingers now making contact with her soaked cunt. it was almost embarrassing, how wet you made her even on situations like this. you bit on her lip and hummed when you felt the slick coating your fingertips, just how easily they slid around her clit. “so wet…” she moaned, her cheeks burning, you always caught her out of fucking ward. and you were so hot… “fuck abby. i can’t wait to have you on my cock.” she pulled your shirt over your head, groaning.

“fucking shut up and fuck me.” she ordered you, pulling from you with a hand around your throat to kiss you.

the kiss was messy and hard, your teeth clashed, and spit dribbled down her chin.

“shit…” she sighed when you pushed one finger inside, starting to pump it in and out of her drooling cunt.

“that’s it…” you praised her, and her cheeks flushed when she let out a whimper. you always knew how to fucking crack her. you pushed the second in, smirking as she gritted her teeth, her jawline sharpening. you kissed her neck and down her chest, wanting to hear more of those pretty sounds. she was extremely sensitive on her lower stomach, and you teased her, leaving wet kisses reaching almost her mound and sucking a bruise on her hip bone, underneath her v line.

her fingers pulled from your hair at the sting, also as a threat to stop teasing her. your pussy throbbed. you gave her what you both wanted, relishing on the groan that ripped her throat when you latched onto her sopping pussy. you hummed at the taste. you loved to eat abby out, she was always so sweet.

“fuck baby…” she grunted, her hips pushing against your face as your nose bumped against her clit. you watched her face contort when your tongue lapped at that little bundle of nerves, making her tug on your hair and make you moan.

you lapped at her with need, concentrating on her clit as two of your fingers found their way back inside of her cunt. she was so warm… it was driving you insane. you couldn’t wait to mold her to your cock.

you became eager. hungrier. you were eating her like a starved woman, adding a third finger inside that made her moan. fuck. abby was sure this was one of the best fucks you two had ever had.

“i’m gonna cum…” she groaned, her walls tightening around you as you sucked on her clit. it didn’t take long for her to cream all over your fingers, her salty slick coating your lips as you cleaned her up, drinking everything she gave you in between sighs and moans.

she pulled you away when it became too much, taking in the sight of you with half-lidded eyes, swollen lips, messy hair and wet chin. the two of you pulled from each other in a messy, needy and hot kiss.

“need to fuck you.” you muttered against her lips and she nodded, too high on the pleasure and in need of more.

she helped you get undressed, and you put on the strap as quickly as you could, the back of it bumping perfectly against your clit as you moved in between her legs. she was soaking as you slid the tip between her folds. even after stretching her out, it was a lot to take. her jaw fell slack when you pushed the tip inside. “fuck.”

you groaned, circling her neck with one of your hands. “that’s it. nice and deep.” she was gritting her teeth as you buried your cock inside her halfway. you sighed at the sight of her lips stretching around the silicone. your hips sputtered, too eager to fill her up, making her whimper when you pushed it all the way inside. you moaned when the back of the strap rubbed against your cunt. “oh shit.” abby was breathing heavy, her mind fuzzy at the feeling of the tip pushing non-stop and harshly against her g spot.

she was getting cock drunk and you haven’t even started fucking her.

“feeling good baby?” you inquired her when you saw her dazed expression. she couldn’t answer, since you were already thrusting once more inside. she could feel every fucking detail of the dildo. she had never felt this full on her entire life. it was you the one filling her up. the one fucking her dumb. and that was driving her insane. her moan was the perfect answer to your question.

you started to pick up the pace, your dick easily sliding in and out of her with a slick sound that was making you feel dizzy. your clit rubbed against the back of the strap with every deep thrust, making you moan; the room was filled of them, amongst grunts, groans and whimpers. she was a mess underneath you, and you pushed up her sports bra to latch your lips to her nipples, fumbling one of tits with one of your hands and rubbing her clit with the other.

“gonna cum, oh fuck.” she whimpered, feeling so fucking gone. you were fucking her brains out.

“that’s it. cum for me.” you grunted, keeping the pace, and she let out a dragged out and deep moan as she gushed on your cock. “fuuuck.” you groaned at the sight, fucking her harder and making her moan.

“too much. it’s too much.”

you groaned once again. “take it. stop being a cry baby and fucking take it.” you were so close and she looked so fucking good falling apart. “shit so good. you look so good taking my cock. shit. gonna cum.” she moaned, even whimpered as she blushed at your words. and before she knew it she was coming again, only this time it was so fucking hard her view went black as she squirted all over your dick and the sheets. “fuck.” you couldn’t help but cum at her reaction, so fucking turned on you swore this was the best orgasm of your fucking life. hers too.

you two slowly came down from it as you stilled inside of her sticky soaked cunt. her thighs shone with her arousal.

you two looked at each other, wordless.

“shit.” abby sighed, and you couldn’t even describe it better. you two had fucked like animals in heat, and fuck had it felt good…

she returned the favor and made you cum like crazy with the same strap you had broken her open just a few minutes after.

“that’s it baby. take my cum. good girl.”

-

switch reader x switch abby? 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

[ironmandeficiency]

the fellowship + romance

characters included: aragorn, boromir, gimli, legolas, pippin

word count: 1177

summary: just some soft shit bc these men are all sappier than any tree in the greenwood

a/n: there’s still an overwhelming lack of gimli content that needs to be fixed and i will do my part

aragorn 🗡️

aragorn’s quiet presence is the warmest blanket on a cold night, the first bite of a meal you slaved over for hours, every comfort you’ve ever experienced

he’s never been one for overwhelming displays of his affections; instead, he shows you in simple ways that add up - giving you the more full bowls of broth, laying his blanket over you if he notices you shivering during night watch, sharpening your weapons (this one had gimli nearly brought to tears by the devotion it spoke of), anything that helps your days pass easier

he grew up around stories of elves who committed astounding feats in the name of those they loved, fighting wars and risking their lives with alarming frequency. but none of them ever talked about the everyday ways they showed love. his mother taught him what she could about those things, stories of his father’s steady presence and stalwart love for his family. a young aragorn took these lessons to heart and used them when the time was right

it was why, when he caught his heart skipping beats around you, he let his actions do the speaking for him. without fail you would thank him with a soft smile, slowly coming to realize that aragorn felt something much deeper for you than camaraderie. when you woke up early one morning to find your weapons sharper than they were the day before (not for the first time), you went straight to aragorn and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. he nearly dropped your bowl of stew in his flustered state

having your affections secured didn’t mean he stopped his small acts of kindness, it did quite the opposite. it just made him bolder and more confident in his actions

boromir 🍻

this man is so damn tactile it’s ridiculous

if you’re the cuddly type like he is, it makes him all the more eager to always have some form of physical contact with you, no matter where you may be

unless you tell him to back off, he is always touching you one way or another. a gentle hand on the small of your back, your pinkies interlocked, an arm wrapped around your shoulder, anything to keep you close to him

his favorite time of day eventually becomes the end of it, because that’s when he can hold you close and whisper soft words of love in your ear while he holds you. he makes it his goal to give you a goodnight kiss every night you spend together

the best cuddle position in his mind is you leaning your back against his chest, one of his hands resting on your hip where his thumb rubs small circles above the bone, and his chin resting on your shoulder just right to where he can turn his head to kiss your cheek or burrow his face into your neck

gimli 🛡️

valiantly is the best way to describe how gimli approaches any situation he comes upon, including (and especially) matters of the heart

this is a dwarf who says what he means & means what he says, who does nothing that he wouldn’t be proud of the next day. because of this, you couldn’t find it in you to not believe him when he professed his love for you with such unwavering confidence you were nearly brought to tears. gimli never said anything just because his lips could move so you simply had to believe him

will do you favors big and small simply because he wants to help you however possible. you can’t remember the last time you carried your own pack or made your own bowl of soup. if you encouraged him (which you wouldn’t), this romantic fool would not let you lift another finger for as long as you both live

he grew up watching his parents with keen eyes, his adad showing him by example how a true dwarf treats their one. he embodies these lessons with every interaction with you, striving to be the one you deserve him to be. it ranges from the ferocity of his protection to opening doors for you. may mahal strike him down if he ever hurts you

he just wants to be a dwarf you’re proud to love, proud to call yours

legolas 🏹

physical affection can be difficult for him, but one thing legolas is good at doing is speaking his mind and his heart

if you thought his regular speaking pattern was overflowing with poetic descriptors, you’ve heard nothing compared to when he’s being truly romantic. no one you’d been with before had ever described you with such beautiful prose, never whispered soft poetry about your eyes to lull you to sleep

and he’s a cheeky bastard about it too! it’ll be a regular conversation between friends, nothing important, then BAM! he’s making quippy one-liners about your overwhelming skill/beauty/personality that catch you off guard and has your friends cackling at your flustered reaction to his flattery

even better, his praise will often include sindarin and on the off chance you don’t speak it, you’ll have to gauge the meaning from the silent looks shared between your dear elf and aragorn (doesn’t really work). eventually legolas tells you what some of them mean; after all, he needs to have an element of intrigue about him or his name isn’t legolas thranduillion

he carries a lot of pride for you and will brag about you to anyone who listens, his melleth being one of unparalleled skill and beauty and bright laughter that carries his soul on great wings

pippin 🥕

his already strong need to be silly and foolish grows exponentially when he finds out how happy it makes you

pip doesn’t care what it is you ask of him, he will do anything to hear your laugh. he’ll put baby carrots in his nostrils, respond to conversations exclusively in farm animal noises, he will even do his spot-on impressions of the rest of the fellowship and make them say all sorts of silly things

the best one to date is him doing an aragorn impression that consists of all the different ways he says legolas’s name

you’ve never heard such astounding colloquialisms from anyone until you met pippin - “don’t eat half the berries and say the pie shell’s too big,” “his cornbread isn’t done in the middle,” “if brains were leather, he wouldn't have enough to saddle a junebug” - and each time he says one, there’s always a not-so-subtle look to you so he can see your reaction. the ones that get the most laughs are used a little bit more, just enough to not lose their appeal but enough to hear your laughter all the more often

there is a single-minded determination to hear your snort when you laugh at something he says, and he will not rest until you do. his personal goal to do this resets each time you do actually snort, him now aiming for the next joke or prank that will bring it out again

[macfrog]

walking through fire | one shot

just something that's been on my mind the last few weeks. i hope that you're all ok going into this difficult time of year. and if there's any part of this, big or small, that you find yourself resonating with - there will always be a warm, cozy chair in my inbox/dms, free for you to come sit, hang; we can talk about everything or nothing at all. love you guys. 🤍

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

summary: you’re neck-deep in a bout of seasonal depression. your boyfriend suggests an autumnal walk. (better than most healthcare systems offer amarite)

warnings: quite literally about depression & anxiety so please read at your own discretion. established relationship, fluffy soft!joel takes care of his girl, implied suicidal thoughts, use of medication to treat depression/anxiety, feelings of worthlessness/burdening, but hope! in the end! a wee sliver of hope!

word count: 2.7k

main masterlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🖤

November turns on itself all too quickly.

Your body feels like lead, sinking deep into the mattress. Like a broken, rusted shipwreck at the bottom of the ocean; your hand lying limp above the bedsheets like a sailor’s last attempt at reaching over the waves for help.

Joel opened the blinds today. Nuzzled into you, the scruff of his beard sharp on your numb skin, and then stood up and slowly unveiled the glaring light of white cloud. You shrunk further into the bed, your hot breath suffocating you under the sheets. Inhaling and exhaling, breathing in your own rotten air.

He pushes the door open and shuffles across to the bed. Your sea dips when he lowers into it, two arms slipping around your waist like a lifebuoy. He pulls you into his chest; his warm body melting the ice of your bones.

“Hey,” he whispers, and drags his nose across your cheek. He kisses your temple, combs his fingers through your hair. Dabs his thumb along your bottom lip and then says again, “Hey, darlin’. You awake?”

Your eyes flutter open, only enough to see the blurry shape of him; the strong curve of his shoulder, the binary of dark cotton and pale skin.

“Hi, baby. How you feelin’ this mornin’?”

The words catch on the dry cliff of your throat, dangling for a few seconds like panicking climbers, before plummeting into the abyss. You settle for an incoherent mumbling, a vibration on your lips that Joel understands through the pad of his thumb.

“Yeah,” he sniffs, “not so good, huh? That’s okay. You know how much I love you?”

And that peels your eyes open a fraction more. Only enough to sharpen the image of him, to find the dark pools of his eyes and the way the flame in them flickers as he says it.

“Love you so much,” he whispers. The tiny fire thaws the very bottom of your heart, even if only enough to keep the blood pushing heavily through your veins.

Your eyes close over again, and you take his shirt in two weak fists, pulling yourself into his body. Your head fits in the crook of his arm, burying into his side.

“You feel like leavin’ the house today?” he asks, voice sweet and earnest. “Just for a little while? We could go for a walk, could go for a drive. Just you ‘n me, sweet girl.”

You shake your head, your eyes prickling from the sincerity of his question. The guilt beginning to creep its way over your shoulders.

“No? You don’t wanna?” He lifts his head, staring out at the view from the window. “’s a nice day out. Cold, but it’s dry, ‘n the leaves are all orange and yellow, just like you like. Not even for a half hour?”

That same guilt – sneering, bullying – pokes a sharp-clawed finger in your ribs until you answer him. “Tired,” you mumble, screwing your eyes shut until you see the sudden, violent assault of stars in your vision.

“I know you’re tired, baby,” Joel says, stroking your back. “But it might do you a little good to get some fresh air. And you’d be with me, and we can come back home whenever you decide.”

Your fear and shame seem to cower beneath his words; melted by the soft timbre of his voice. They retreat inward, burrowing deep between the cage of your ribs, twisting and mangling around your pale bones.

“We can come back whenever?” you whisper, defying their threats.

“Whenever, darlin’. Promise.”

You surrender yourself, letting him take you in his arms and carry you over to your closet, where he sets you down gently. Keeping an arm around your waist, Joel waits patiently as you pick an outfit, and then helps drape it over your frame. You feel more statue than human – solid substance rather than plush flesh. Cold and brittle; the tender touch and lively glow drained from your skin the same way it drains so quickly of energy.

You’ve been fighting for years. Months and months and months of one step at a time and just keep going. Being told you’re more than what’s going on in your brain, being told not to let it become you. But there are days when you stand before the mirror, and you don’t recognize the figure staring back at you. The dark tunnels in place of eyes, the thin line of her lips.

There are days you can see the marks on your skin from how tight your anxiety and depression bind you; wrapping like ivy around your body until there’s nothing left of you to see through the dark green leaves. Just a haggard, shapeless thing. A skeleton too tired to carry the weight of yourself; a heart too weary to beat in time.

There once existed a time you had smiled, even laughed – you know it, you have the lines scored deep into your cheeks to prove it. Sometimes they ache when you think about it, like even they miss the feeling. Joel knows it, too – you sense it whenever he tells some dumb joke, sense that he’s searching your face for the slightest lift, the slightest dip of a dimple. And it fucking kills you, when you realize you have nothing sincere or true to offer him. No swollen cheeks, no flash of teeth. At best, a heavier exhale pushed from your nostrils.

It all feels so long ago, that lighter, fresher, happier you. It feels so far from your clutches. Like you’re drifting further and further from the surface, disappearing into the murky depths of your own mind.

The doctors, the articles, the fucking motivational posts on Instagram all say the same. Keep fighting it. Confront your illness. Prove it wrong. But you’re so fucking tired of fighting. Fighting it the entire drive to work, your heart threatening to burst; fighting it every conversation you have, your façade slowly cracking. Swallowing the panic like you swallow the medication; both of them sticking in your throat and refusing to go down.

There is no fighting it. There is no overcoming through confrontation. If you broke your leg, shattered every bone to dust, would they say the same? You gotta walk on it straight away to make it strong again. You don’t think so.

Joel doesn’t seem to think so, either. Joel, with a heart of molten gold, ready at every turn to let it pour onto your skin and paint it the color of sunlight when you can’t do it yourself. Joel, with his strong arms and wide reach, bundling you up over the top of all that foul ivy and snapping its thick stems with just his fingers.

Joel, who will sit at the edge of your bed and watch you take your meds; kiss your forehead and squeeze you tight when you show him your empty mouth. Joel, who will hold you in the dead of night and tell you stupid stories about his brother when they were kids, rubbing your back and chasing the dark ghosts from your mind.

Joel, who still sees something in you – whether he’s imagining it or not – and decides each day that it’s worth protecting. Worth saving. You’re worth saving, even on the days you don’t believe it yourself.

He drives for ten minutes, a little out of the suburbs and into a thicket of fire-colored leaves and solid, frozen ground. Fall sinks its teeth deep into the roots of the earth, drying up the bloom of summer and replacing it with something harder, something tougher. Nature is dying in the November breeze – the amber leaves painted the color of the trees’ blood as they fight a losing battle against the shifting of time. You feel yourself decaying with it: a drawn-out, painful surrender to the bleak days and dark nights.

Joel keeps his hand on your thigh the entire ride; you keep your fingers intertwined with his. The fluttering in your chest gets quicker and quicker, spreads its wings wider the further you feel from home. Your mouth dries up, forcing you to swallow after every third breath. But his hand stays there, planted on you like the root of an ancient tree: never shifting, no matter how strong the wind throws punches.

A shaky breath falls from your lips when he slows to a halt, the truck parked by a long wooden gate. He cuts the engine and turns to you, squeezing your leg lightly.

“We’re just gonna walk down there,” he nods out the window, “and back again. As slow as you like, ‘n we turn back when?”

“Whenever I want,” you whisper, nodding.

“Whenever you want, darlin’. Just say the word, alright? Sound good?”

You nod, blinking away the strain of tears across your vision. Your knee bounces, the metal buckles on your boots clinking in the footwell.

Joel rubs his thumb against your cheek. Lifts your free hand and places a delicate kiss to your knuckles. “I am so proud of you,” he mumbles against them, like scoring it into the bone.

You fill your cheeks, flattening your lips together, and he pulls on his door handle.

Five paces from the car, you realize how cold it is. The bitter air snaps at your cheeks, drags the salty tears from your eyes. Joel quickly fixes the collar of your jacket and pulls your scarf over your face.

“You bring gloves?” he asks.

Your head shakes in response.

“Here.” He fishes in the pockets of his tan jacket for a dark brown pair, flicking his fingers for you to hold your quivering hands out. He slips them on, all too big for you, and then knots his fingers through yours and leads you on down the sloping backroad.

Bordered by tall trees on either side, you feel secluded and hidden from the rest of the world. It fills you with equal parts comfort and terror: nobody else is here. No one can see your vacant eyes, the wet stain of fallen tears on your cheeks. Not the vice grip you have on your boyfriend or the weak quiver of your voice.

And at the same time: nobody else is here. No people, no sign of life. Just an isolated track, the looming trees overhead, the squelch of muck and the bite of fall for company.

Joel matches your pace, strolling along by your side with your arm through his and his hand resting on top of yours. He catches your glances over your shoulder, sees the jittery movements of your head as you scan the scene around you, and pats the back of your hand tenderly.

“Take a deep breath for me.”

You fill your lungs with a chilly gulp of air, pushing it back out again as steadily as you can.

“And again.”

You repeat the exercise, your chest swelling against your buttoned up coat.

“You’re doin’ great,” he says, looking down at you. “You feelin’ okay?”

“I’m – Yeah, I’m just…” you twist back to search for the wooden gate, “…can’t see the truck anymore.”

“’s right there, promise ya. You wanna go back?”

He pauses, and your boots scuff to a halt on the stony terrain. You chew the inside of your cheek, eyebrows arching to release more tears from between your lashes. “No,” you breathe, “I wanna try to go further.”

“Then let’s try to go further. Yeah?”

You nod, setting off when you realize he’s waiting for you to take the lead.

The fields on either side of you are strung with a thick blanket of mist from one end to the other, masking the trees at the opposite side and obscuring the line between earth and sky. Your body close to Joel’s, your heartbeat attempting to match the steady pace of his, you feel safe, protected. The promise that you can call it a day whenever your body begins to weigh too much, whenever your lungs begin to falter.

Somewhere between the thinning of the hedgerows, another slanted, shabby gate materializes. Its crisscross panels and worn wooden posts separating you from the first company in your twenty-minute walk.

“Joel,” you call, loosening your grip on his arm and wandering over to the long, dewy grass towards a chestnut horse, a sliver of white fur diving deep between her eyes.

She slowly thumps over, huge hooves sinking deep into the soft dirt. Her long tail swishing, navy rug wrapped around her midriff. She docks at the gate, puffing a heavy breath – hot, thick clouds shooting from each nostril.

“Hi,” you say quietly, lifting a floppy-gloved hand for her to sniff. “Joel?” you say again, glancing down at her swollen belly, the low droop of the rug. “I think she might be pregnant.”

She tosses her head up, ears flicking, and nuzzles into the soft material of Joel’s glove. You feel her wrinkled muzzle, the strong, solid bridge of her nose. She blinks slowly; huge, deep brown eyes twinkling in the late-morning light, and you swear she’s trying to communicate something to you.

“Hey, girl,” Joel says, running a careful hand down her mane.

The horse sighs serenely, eyes flitting between the two of you. Her nostrils flare gently, light brown lashes fluttering. You tilt your head, stroking her and letting her teeth graze the sleeve of your jacket. Her bulky head turns to-and-fro, glancing up and down the trail you’re stood on, contently waiting for the passage of time. Enjoying her view from the misty field before it all changes again.

Unexpected and unwelcome, the absence of compression in your chest suddenly makes itself known. Dread spills into your lungs, thick like tar. You turn on your heel and cast Joel one fleeting glance.

He catches it, and without missing a beat, asks, “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” you say. “Is that okay?”

“’s more ‘n okay, baby. You did so good today. Didn’t she?” he asks the horse, who huffs another hot breath. Joel tosses a thumb towards her. “See?”

You step back over to the animal, now preparing to wander back on home, and give her one last tender stroke. She blinks twice, tosses her head a final time, and her broad body turns, thudding off back up the slope.

As he links your arms again, Joel blinks down at you, the corners of his mouth slowly lifting.

“What?” you ask, shyly.

“Look at you,” he says, nudging your shoulder with a glint in his eye. “You’re smilin’.”

Autumn flashes by as Joel drives you home – ginger and bronze and honey and cinnamon blurring into one as you pass them by. You settle back against the headrest, moving with the sway of the truck, your tired fingers tracing blind shapes on Joel’s palm.

Nature is burning. Perhaps dying is too harsh a term. Burning in preparation for the winter, when it will lay dormant and restful. Quiet, save for the crunch of snow beneath your feet. Bland, save for the sparkle of frost on your windowpanes. The droplets of beauty laced through, the little reminders that not all has been lost.

I am burning right now, the earth says, but wait until you see what I can become.

The days will turn to night. The sun will tear the sky to tatters, set the whole thing fucking ablaze, go down in a battle stained in red and orange and deep, dark blue – and she will still return, spilling golden all over the horizon. She always does.

The clouds will cover overhead, dampening the color on earth. The blues will fade to gray, the yellows will undoubtedly pale. And then the sky will clear, when it is ready; the clouds will break in two to let a ribbon of cerulean burst through.

The leaves will fall to the ground and feed the soil; new ones will sprout from buds left in their wake. The ground will thaw, will soften again in time to welcome the push of daisies and burst of heather. The horse will foal, the birds will sing to their babies, the buzz of insects will irritate your ears; the rivers will gush and the trees will sway and you will be okay again.

You will be okay again.

[ninibeingdelulu]

Paris, la ville de l’amour ✧

Plot: Sae, in Paris for an incoming game, visits your pastry shop.

A/N: guysss I wanted to write something in Paris bc it’s my cityyy. It was so fun to write in my native language tho.

The bell above the pastry shop door tinkled merrily as it swung open, letting in a warm breeze tinged with the aroma of fresh-baked delicacies.

You glanced up from behind the counter with a brilliant smile already curving your lips in welcome - only for the words to die in your throat.

Frozen halfway between reaching for a new tray, you could only gape as the most impossibly attractive man you'd ever laid eyes on stepped over the worn tiled threshold.

He paused with equal surprise marring those striking chiseled features, clearly just as stunned by whatever he'd unexpectedly stumbled across here too.

You watched his throat work in a convulsive swallow as cool jade eyes suddenly swept over you in one long, scorching perusal from crown to toe.

"Um...huh, je peux vous aider?" you stammered out at last in your native French tongue.

Ducking your chin slightly as you felt an embarrassed flush creeping up towards the high planes of your cheeks under such an intense inspecting look.

This seemed to jolt him out of his brief reverie. With a sharp clearing of his throat, he finally spoke - the deep timbre of his low rumble sending delighted tingles skittering along your nerves.

"...Bonjour," he attempted in terribly mangled pronunciation.

As if the French language were an awkward, ungainly thing struggling to break free from his throat rather than flow.

For some reason, his bungled attempt at communication only proved impossibly more charming to you rather than off-putting.

Your own pretty features scrunching up in a delighted giggle you made no effort to disguise.

The man's green gaze somehow sharpened further, narrowing into twin viridian laser points flickering down to your freely curving mouth with intent- as though committing the shape and hue of your upturned lips to permanent memory.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, here let me try this again..."

Taking pity on his apparent linguistic shortcomings, you smiled warmly and tried once more in lightly accented yet impeccable English instead.

"May I help you with something from our bakery today, sir?"

Those mesmerizing jade irises lifted back up to meet your direct stare, some of the initial tension bleeding out of his broad shoulders and rigid stance now that you'd switched languages.

"Just..."

A beat of loaded silence stretched out while he visibly gathered himself. Long graceful fingers scrubbed through a tousled mess of pink hair in what seemed a nervous gesture before dropping back to his sides.

"Just...a croissant, please. Plain."

The low words were carefully enunciated and measured - as if afraid of allowing even that much speech to potentially betray him further.

You gave a little understanding nod, minding yourself to smother any possible outward reaction to his dulcet rasp of a voice undulating along your very bones.

"One plain croissant, coming right up! Please, feel free to have a look around while I get that ready for you."

With that, you cheerfully bustled off to retrieve his order, movements light and airy as your hips swayed subconsciously in time with the background French cafe music wafting from the speakers.

Once the flaky golden-brown pastry was carefully bundled in wax paper, you swiveled back towards the front counter with a friendly grin...only to nearly jump out of your skin.

For standing there merely a foot or so away, nearly pressed up against the worn wooden display case was him- eyes boring into you unblinkingly with that keen, predatory regard of someone determined to solve the world's greatest mystery.

"Ah...sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," he offered in that molten gravel drawl upon seeing your obvious surprise.

Though the fiercely magnetic set of those sculpted features didn't shift even slightly.

Regaining your composure quickly, you set the croissant down between you two - muscles tensing slightly as his much larger, wider palm easily swallowed your own in passing when you recited the total with a sweetly lilting: "That will be 3.50 euros, please..."

He paid in silence, face carefully neutral as a carved marble bust while thumbing through a wad of unfamiliar bills.

Every movement infuriatingly measured in a way stoked your bubbling curiosity about this strange, compelling man even higher.

The tension only broke as your fingertips brushing during the exchange made the electricity crackling between your joined gazes spike to near unbearable levels.

A muscle in his angled jaw ticked, throat muscles jumping in another harsh swallow before he snatched his hand away, pastry in tow.

You forced yourself to break eye contact first, flushing hotly as you ducked your head to hide the wistful yearning swiftly blossoming behind your ribs.

A soft, airy exhale floated up to trace a stray lock of your hair tickling across your forehead.

"Au revoir, j'espère qu'on se reverra," you called out on impulse as your mystery customer turned sharply on his heel to leave.

And your words made him falter.

For there, frozen halfway between the last rays of afternoon sun slanting through the windows and shadows clinging to the cafe interior, you saw a tiny quicksilver flicker lift the corners of his sculpted mouth into an almost imperceptible curve of a smile.

It was gone as swiftly as it ever existed - the shop door swinging shut on his retreating silhouette.

Yet that bare glimpse had already kindled a feverish determination coiling low in your belly, spreading like wildfire outwards.

Oh yes...something told you that this beautiful, fascinating stranger would most certainly make it a point to wander back into your tiny corner of the world again...just as surely as the rising sun awakening the morning.

Even when the evening rush was well behind you, long after flipping the Open sign to Closed, you found yourself absentmindedly wiping down the same spotless countertop over and over - gaze endlessly drawn back to the front windows.

Consumed replaying that momentary connection on visceral loop within the private theater of your mind's eye...

[k9wa]

𑣲 EVERYTHING. ft. BLADE

⠀ — it’s easier to nurse your wounds in silence with a furrowed brow.

⠀ OR

⠀ — you get your ass beat bad enough for blade to be affectionate.

⚠︎ mentions & descriptions of injuries, blood, comfort, gn reader, awkward blade save me, self indulgent && finally out of the drafts.

“what happened to you?”

blade inquired, tone teetering on teasing as you trudged into your shared bedroom, head hung low as you walked on heavy, unstable legs. it looked as if someone had slipped iron into the soles of your shoes.

blade barely heard the muttered response you slur out as a bloodied hand reached out to hold the wall for support. he was on his feet in front of you in seconds, hands lightly finding their way to your waist to help hold you up straight. blade had to restrain himself from lifting you up by your underarms and shaking an explanation out of you once he noticed the smeared red hand print you left behind.

“...hey.”

his voice was quieter the second time around, bending at the knees a small bit so he could finally meet your cloudy eyes. it grabs your attention well enough, you finally looked up enough for him to see the scratches on your face alongside the sharp, clean cut going from your brow bone to cheek bone. he felt his palms sweat.

blade wasted no time in scooping you up and placing you down on your bed. he would worry of the blood soiled sheets after you were taken care of.

he pushed your hair behind your ears, giving him a final clear glimpse of your wounded face. despite his indifferent expression, stoic and blank as always, he nearly hissed.

you whine weakly and groan in pain as blade lifts your shirt up over your head, checking your torso for any more wounds. there was another sharp slash across the left of your ribcage, but it was— thankfully— rather shallow. a perfect example of you getting out of the way of someone’s sharpened steel at the very last second.

ren retrieved a wet cloth, dampened with cold water that he didn’t possess the patience to allow to warm up before sticking the fabric under the faucet. he cleaned the dried blood off your skin, actions precise and unimaginably gentle as he watched it flake and smudge away with the water.

you’re silent, one eye stuck shut as a result of your injury and the other fluttering in an attempt to stay open as you tiredly gaze up at him through your lashes. once you were finally relieved of the dirt and sweat sticking to you, ren moved to start wrapping thick, taught bandages where they were needed.

he didn’t pry right away, you were hurting. blade was no stranger to pain and the way it left a blinding fog over your senses, stripping you of any capabilities and leaving you with nothing but dreadful awareness of how terrible your bones ache and your flesh burns.

but truly, with each circle of the roll of cloth around your torso, went more fuel onto the flame of violence and vengeance deep inside blade’s gut, the fiery anger quickly overwhelming his consideration.

“what happened to you?”

ren repeated as he taped off the covering on your ribs. his tone was less taunting the second time around. he gets up from his knees and sits on the bed beside you, tilting your head up by your chin to assess the wound to your eye.

“doesn’t matter, believe it or not i won.” you replied lazily, good eye slowly making its way over his hardened features. his high cheekbones, sharp brow bone, his chiselled jaw. blade has half a mind to scoff.

“that’s not what i asked.” he grew more stern, lightly tugging your eyelid open to check if your cornea had withstood any damage.

ren listened as you half-heartedly recalled the events to him. a group of mara struck had stumbled upon you on your way back from a meeting with elio and kafka. you made your way out, but the injuries sustained were from when you had forgotten you often have to knock the mara struck down twice before they actually stay down. a silly slip up on your part.

blade finished wrapping a bandage around your eye and placing a few smaller ones on your scratches by the time you finished your explanation. his speed and familiarity with a roll of gauze made you question just how often he had done this to himself.

he didn’t respond as he grabbed you a clean shirt, picking up any garbage and tossing it out silently as he threw the soiled cloth in an empty cleaning bucket. you were curled up on the bed and fighting sleep when he returned just a minute later.

ren didn’t know what to say, exactly. the mara that had attacked you were good and dead, so he didn’t have to go after them and dirty his own hands once more as a “precaution” (he would not allow any being that harmed you in such a way keep it’s life—) yet he was never one for comfort. even after all the years he’d spent with you.

re-learning the humanizing emotions that had been cast from his soul once it was ripped and forced back into his body was proving to take more time than one might expect.

blade, after standing with your back to him almost awkwardly for a few moments, took a seat beside you again and placed his chin down on your shoulder. his thumb mindlessly moves to rub circles on your hip.

it’d be a lie to say seeing you hurt didn’t scare him. scare? terrify? shake him up? the synonyms weren’t relevant. blade continued to try and convince himself there was truly a difference between them.

being immortal had led him to forget what the limits of the human body might exactly be. he was surprised his brow didn’t furrow at the thought of your lesions being fatal as he cleaned and wrapped them.

you are everything. you are the last thing blade is able to call his own. you are the only thing blade truly feels he belongs to, and vice versa. you are everything.

“be more careful next time.” ren said quietly, lips against the skin of your arm as he kissed your shoulder. “please.”

you rolled over slowly, careful not to lay on your freshly cut side and pulled his hand up to your mouth, placing a kiss to his knuckles.

“i will. thank you.” you’re too tired for a witty response. blade nodded. he didn’t believe you, years of being left behind and the amount of bloodshed he’d witnessed did not allow him.

“get some sleep.”

he stood, shoulders straight and nearly tense as he walked away and picked up his weapon leaned against the wall. running through some of the drills his late master taught him was ought to lift the stress— the reminder that despite your strength you were but a fragile human— from his back. he did that often when he was beginning to feel overwhelmed or over-frustrated. it was routine, it was the same, it made sense to him.

“i love you.” you mumbled against your pillow, eyes already closed as sleep quickly consumed you.

“as do i.” blade said quietly, slipping outside.

⠀ 𑣲 MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?

[moronkombat]

Straight to it, Bi Han finds his wife dead 😘🥰😍

tw: character death, afab pronouns used

god this ask is blessed

Wind blows lightly, the breeze is warm and pleasant. Loose strands of pure ebony wisp past the curve of a cheek bone while eyes just as dark look to a gathering of flowers so perfectly planted. Bi-Han watches as petals fall limp and wrinkled, flora beginning the end of its life. There's a hand holding his, so much smaller than his own, yet the weight heavier than any mountain.

He hears her speaking and notices her adoring smile. She is beautiful, really, a grand masterpiece of humanity's kindness. Bi-Han loves her more than he can love anything else. She knows this, he never has to say it. He need only look upon her and his heart shines through his gaze.

They stood together in their garden as they always did before Bi-Han had to go. This their own little sanctuary where time stops. They should have never left that place.

Heart pounds in his chest, legs carry him faster and faster. Blood has spattered and drenched him while he runs through hallways that seem almost endless. It wasn't supposed to be like this. This meant to be between him and the Tengu and yet they have pulled that which is most precious to Bi-Han in its horrible grasp.

Ice continues to pierce those who stand in his way and the blood is so heavy upon his skin. He cannot stop, he must find her. Bi-Han knows the Tengu have her, they had told him as much. Their bodies are ripped and torn as the frantic man searches for his kidnapped wife.

The corpses have led him to some place dark but her light still shines through. There she stands, held by hands Bi-Han wishes to slice. Her eyes...she is terrified. She quivers and shakes while tears dirty her face. Bi-Han rages, an internal war erupts. Beast like eyes stare at the one who holds her from him and fingers twitch and become frigid.

"I'll kill you..." Bi-Han rasps through his bloodstained mask and everything within him begins to shake.

The Tengu looks at him, unafraid and resilient. He hums something that Bi-Han doesn't catch before eyes begin to crinkle into a smile.

"I know." He says. "But I will destroy you."

No! Bi-Han lunges forward, the ice that runs in his veins manifesting into life. Life really is a fickle thing. Blades catch the dimmed light of the room and beam with the strength of the sun. Sharpened and refined metal cuts through the air before it embraces flesh. Ribs begin to crack, blood begins to pour and her shriek lasts only but a moment before lungs are lacerated by a Tengu's wrath.

Blood flies through the air and paints a man most terrified. Droplets of her warm and scalding blood find themselves colliding onto Bi-Han's cheek as he reaches forward for her. Eyes widen while hers begin to fade dim. There's a scream. One inhuman and broken apart. As she falls, ice cuts through her attacker's throat and a life is ended.

Before that wretched Tengu body and even hit the floor, Bi-Han is cradling his dear wife who gasps and writhes in pain. His eyes look over her, blood is pooling from her wound even as his hands attempt to stop it.

"No, no, no, no-" Bi-Han panics, cold hands covered in burning crimson as a palm lays against her chest. "It's going to be alright, it's going to be okay-"

She knows he is lying but her words cannot form. Too trapped by the gasps for breath and cries of pain. Her blood is spilling faster now, it falls from her lips and runs down her chin like a flowing stream. The visage of him begins to blur until there is nothing but an obscured void.

"Stay with me now...!" his words all she has left to cling to but even they begin to echo and fade.

Her gasps, her pained whines...they are gone now. She is gone. An empty body is left in her place, limp and heavy. Bi-Han's eyes dart around her, a hand coated in red cups her cheek. He called out her name but she merely stares back at him with hazy eyes and bloody lips. Bi-Han's trembling body now crumbles apart and he cradles her just as he did when they were alone in that very special garden. The garden they never should have departed from.

He cries, he wails, begging her to speak to him, to hold him like she always did. She cannot, her body no better than the corpses he left behind. There's hurried clatter, the sound of footsteps approaching. Two younger brothers stand in the doorway, staring at the sight they should have never seen.

They stand together, Tomas and Kuai Liang looking at each other. Both are unsure of what to say as they watch their eldest brother sob and hold onto an empty husk of what was once the love of his life.

Bi-Han's mind is lost to him. He begs and pleads for her to awaken; he screams in the agony of pure destruction. The one he cries for cannot hear him. The wind blows lightly, the breeze cold and haunting.