#they are biting eachother to death

[sunset-bridge]

dance with me(ow)

[qeyond]

Anyway, Happy Pride! Here's my BirthdayMassacre playlist.

[nosecondivelived]

friendship death by mutual assured destruction

[spam-extemporal]

Dcxdp where Danny has been working with a hero team (did Bruce adopt him? Did he help the teen titans and got told to join them? Idk) for less than a year, maybe they knew eachother for longer, but Danny has been living with them for some months.

Now, I imagined this as a "Danny has to flee to a different dimension after a giw attack/reveal gone wrong" but it can work with other scenarios, the important thing is, death days are important for a ghost's wellbeing, but nobody knows/remembers Danny's deathday or that it's important to commemorate the dead. Maybe he hasn't told anyone yet cause he doesn't want to be a bother, or doesn't trust them enough yet.

So Danny takes the matter on his own hands, each year he goes to a quiet corner of the local graveyard, where he has a piece of marble and a small vase, he usually buys some flowers for his memorial grave and makes some fudge as an offering.

This year wasn't gonna be different, he told his team/family that he was gonna spend the day out, he chose an elegant but comfortable outfit, made some fudge, and saved it on the fridge with a note that said "phantom, do not eat".

The next part might work better with a young hero team, cause despite the note, someone took a bite of the fudge for breakfast.

Danny clearly gets mad, they didn't know, but they just ate an offering, a great offense to the dead it was offered to.

It all ends in a big fight, Danny doesn't want to admit that it was an offering for himself (it just hurts to admit that nobody remembers his death), and the other person thinks he's just having a tantrum over some fudge, like, c'mon, they can make you some if it's SO important to you 😒

And I don't know how to end it cause it came to me while falling asleep and don't remember more T-T

[marauroon]

A Remus fic where the reader and him just can't stand each-other but she is literally the only person who calms him when the full moon is near?? (Or just straight up can calm 'Moony')

Like, they both hate being around each other but the reader doesn't fight his proximity around that time?? She lowkey knows

Like; "can you stop that?"

"Breathing?"

"Whatever it is, yes."

But around the full moon they are suddenly soft on eachother

B E S T F R E N E M I E S — REMUS LUPIN!

remus lupin x gn!reader | fluff | 0.9k | masterlist!!

You hate each other. You despise each other. But there’s three or so days every month when you’re a little less antagonistic.

a/n — i love this type of relationship, thanks for the request ml <3

You don’t need a phase calendar to know when the full moon is coming up.

You don’t need a lunar tracker, or a magical device.

Heck, you don’t even have to look at the moon.

No, none of that matters. You know when the full moon is coming up, because all of a sudden, almost inexplicably, Remus Lupin decides that he wants to spend time in your presence instead of ripping your throat out.

You can’t say you’re exactly sure when it started, when you mutually agreed to cease your incessant bickering just for those few days over the full moon before returning to your previous hatred.

Just as you couldn’t quite remember how you figured out his little ‘problem’ in the first place.

But here you were nonetheless, sat in front of the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room, with you on one end of the sofa and him on the other.

There was no glances, no conversation, but his foot was extended far enough across the cushions to brush against your knee as the two of you sat in parallel, books in your hands and silence in the air.

“Will you stop doing that?”

Remus looks over the rim of his book with furrowed eyebrows. “Doing what?”

“I can hear you breathing, it’s annoying,” You turn the page of your own book with an exaggerated sigh.

“Guess I’ll just suffocate to death then,”

You give Remus a short hum, and he scoffs.

“And stop moving your leg,” You elbow his calf passively, not hard enough to actually prompt him to move, but enough to act as a reprimand.

“I’ve got pins and needles.”

Don’t sit like that then,” You spare him a glance, he’s already looking at you.

You know he won’t move, he never does.

“I’m fine,”

And you’re always right. Especially this close the full moon.

“No you’re not,”

“No, this is uncomfortable as fuck,” Remus agrees with you pretty easily, tugging the decorative pillow from behind his back with a groan. “Why is this sofa so shit?”

“It’s not the sofa, it’s your joints,” You roll your eyes, turning the page of your book. “You’re built like an old man,”

“Oh, wow, thank you.” His expression matches his tone, deadpan and flat, and very clearly unamused.

“You’re welcome,” Your reply is just as enthusiastic.

“I’m too hot,” Remus complains. You’re sure he’s just doing it for the sake of it.

“Move away from the fireplace then,”

“You’re in the way,”

“Oh for Godric’s—” You exhale exasperatedly, shutting your book harshly on your lap and standing up, making a show of gesturing to your, now vacant, spot on the sofa. “Go on then,”

Remus groans exaggeratedly as he stands, his eyes narrowed in an exaggeration of his frustration with your attitude, and he collapses into your spot like a grandpa into an arm chair.

“Happy now?”

He opens his book with one hand. “Chuffed,”

“Wonderful.”

You grit your teeth with a sigh as you watch him sink into the corner cushions, biting any more unsavoury comments on your tongue as you move to sit on the side by the fireplace.

Although there’s really no point, because he stops you before you can even get two steps away.

“Sit down, don’t let me get in your way,”

“That’s what I’m doing?” You gesture almost sarcastically towards the slowly disappearing indentation on the sofa cushion where he’d previously been sat.

“Don’t sit by there. Like I said, it’s too hot,”

He reaches out his arm without looking away from his book, blindly grazing your side until it lands on your wrist, then he’s tugging you back towards him until you’re basically stumbling into his lap.

“Oh, and this isn’t going to be too hot?” You grumble as you land against his thighs. Even those are bony, and not very comfortable either.

“Just be quiet.” Remus shifts underneath you, pulling your legs over his lap until you’re sat perpendicularly to each other, although occupying the same space.

There’s a few moments of the two of you making small adjustments to the way you’re sitting, how you’re positioned and how to work around having enough space for the both of you to read at the same time.

Then the silence returns, and it’s nothing but the crackling of the fireplace and the occasional turning of a page as the two of you sit quietly in the begrudged agreement of each other’s presence without argument.

“You’re a shit cushion,”

Well, almost anyway.

“Shut the fuck up and sit still,”

[morbidmorbid]

Daryl finally reaching the point of the relationship where he can just surrender to the one he loves. Him, on his knees, face buried in your cunt just because he understands now just how much he loves you and can bare himself to you completely.

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE ADD TO THIS!!! THAT PERSON HAS SINGLE HANDEDLY LEFT ME FERAL OMG!!!! i need that man, I think we ALL need that man 💳💥💳💥

i got uuuuu and sorryyy i’m so late to this i’m a slow writer plus life but here u go !! um this wasn’t supposed to be.. all of this but i can’t help myself. explodes.

18+

⁀➷

it was challenging to get daryl to sleep sometimes.

eyes peel open, gradual, slow. sleep doesn’t weigh heavy on your lids, hadn’t deemed the chance to for prolonged rest was difficult to come by. still, finding idleness was an almost unfamiliar casual occurring and while slow to get comfortable with, it wasn’t completely unwanted. so when your muscles ache and the death in your face suffocates you, you take the chance of a bed and a falsified home even if it comes to be fleeting.

daryl sits perched on the windowsill, cigarette alight.

his dislike for new or change wasn’t the case now, perhaps it was that constant uneasiness that came with the ignorance of another world. daryl, in this state of the world, didn’t kneel to forged comfort—he’d told you that not with his words but with the emptiness in alexandria where his presence should be. he’s recruiting with aaron, he’s on a run, he’s not here. you understand his reservation and while you often touched convictions with him, this was a bit different, this one felt close enough to right.

you don’t bother maneuvering much, only turning a curious head over in his direction. the tidied sheets beneath you ruffle in contact.

“so that’s why i couldn’t sleep.” you say and it’s light, a quip that gently prods. it’s a joke at him forgoing the spot in bed beside you for hard wood beneath him and smoke in his lungs.

daryl takes a drag and pinches it between fingers. inhale, eyes you, exhale, turns away. “right, sorry.” he apologizes for it in his seriousness, watches your eyebrows scrunch in hilarious disbelief and tips in: “looked pretty damn sleep to me, though.”

he hadn’t bothered to crack a window amidst his smoke and it infiltrates the air. it fills your lungs and keeps you from biting back at him that, yeah, you might’ve been somewhere drowned in a dream—whatever those conjured up to be in this time—and it’s an odd thing. to sleep, to fall in deep enough to become unaware of the real around you, and you stick daryl on that development. perhaps things wouldn’t be that simple or easy, there wouldn’t be the opportunity, the comfortability in letting go for a breath.

if not for him perched right where he sits against the glass and looming around you in your vulnerability, likely ignorant to the umbrella of defense he creates.

the sun is long gone and doesn’t burn against the glass like before you’d dozed, only now the enveloping darkness.

“when did you get back?” you ask. his crossbow leans dirty against the wall near the threshold, arrows bloodied. daryl hasn’t shaken the vest or his shoes, nor the dirt on his hands and wedged beneath his fingernails. you reckon thirty minutes, though daryl surprises you.

another drag. “sun was still shinin’ over ya.” he says. it’s been a long while, then. had he eaten? or had he’d smoked his few stale cigarettes and chewed on his thoughts in the stretch of time and that itself is an upsetting possibility.

you purse your lips and your locked fingers dance against eachother, thoughtful. while he seems as he always is, he isn’t. there’s a reason behind everything, the good and the bad, and this one fell between both. “can you come over here? i’m cold.” daryl was a cautious man with little trust and that was good in this world, but right here his hesitancy to pursue not only this false town but you as well was not as pretty as good reasons go.

but that was selfish thinking and unfair to daryl’s morals.

he watches you and years prior he’d been unreadable, but you’re accustomed and he looks like someone who doesn’t believe your words. “it’s sweatin’ balls in here.” he unnecessarily shoots back. daryl, always running behind with your jokes, or maybe he understands but shies away from what you’re asking. daryl was always someone who’d have to work back into accustoms if detached for a while, always slow to reciprocate—even though he so strongly did—lest you’re persistent.

“well, i’m shivering.” you’re saying as you make to rub two hands together to search for warmth. warmth you didn’t need for it already filled you, but a tactic is a tactic.

daryl scoffs a laugh that’s too quiet to catch, but it’s seen. he stubs out his cigarette then, marks the wood in an ugly manner. when he makes the small walk towards the bed, towards you, you’re meeting him halfway as you walk on knees to the edge.

he stops when you speak up. “you’re not getting in bed with all that shit on, are you?”

“was.” he confirms and shrugs and it’s humorous to see how serious he is, how he doesn’t grasp onto the issue.

“take it off, it seems uncomfortable.”

“i ain’t uncomfortable.”

“daryl.”

daryl could be good with orders—could be, a meticulous sort of arrangement—when he agreed with them. this was a mixed case whereas he seemed pulled between the two; the look in his eyes and the firm stance before you screaming i’m fine, i’m staying put. then the other end of the stick with what he eventually complied with in the form of slouched shoulders, guard down, capable of finding that same comfortability in your ways that strived for his growth that he does in his own ways.

still, he grumbles. “ya killin’ me.” and then his jacket goes, his vest, his worn stitched gloves.

you know that daryl prefers to be prepared no matter the situation, doesn’t like to be bared to the world for not even a breath and his heedfulness is commendable. though right here in the warm box that isn’t your inauthentic bedroom but your presence, you recognize his needs are a broad category and this is one of the many.

daryl needs his own relief to come back to despite the state of the world—everyone else has their own, whether in another or in themselves or in between, and daryl deserved just as much.

when he goes to indulge you, two hands coming down against the mattress, you dodge. “don’t forget your shoes, dar.” and he’s all eye contact before finally crouching down. “no shoes in bed, it’s barbaric.”

“guessin’ i oughta get my underwear off, right?” he smiles a small one, sarcastic. “beat ya to the punch.”

you shrug for the joke and he scoffs at it. he bends at the knees nevertheless, lightly hitting the floor and fingers reaching to shove themselves in the heel of his shoe. one goes and joins the pile, but before he can twin the other foot, you’re bringing a hand to his hair. he’s a bit sweaty there, strands darkened in consequence and instead of grimacing, your chest swells with pride, gratitude; daryl’s a fighter and it shows even in the smallest things.

“thank you, by the way. really.” you say when you notice he’s halted his movements. he doesn’t budge even when you move from strand to strand, fixing him, watching his forehead come into view. his brows and shoulders remain lax which is good, encourages you. had it been before he would’ve been a quick hand on your forearm with alarm, unfamiliar in the intimacy, hesitant.

he doesn’t look up yet. “thankin’ me for?” and against your palm he leans.

“i don’t know, everything—for fighting.” you elaborate and it’s then that he’s lifting his head, squinted eyes sharp.

daryl was always shy eyes when commended. he holds your gaze in increments now and you take the moment to let your hands travel. they’re slow and deliberate where they land along the expanse of his jaw and against the hairs on his face. daryl moves with you in whichever direction you think to turn him, and while it’s cute and certainly heavy intimate development on his part, you don’t call him out on it for he embarrasses easily and having him shy away now was not a good call.

“ain’t just me.” he finally says and since he doesn’t like spotlight, “it’s you, michonne, rick—“

“i know.” you cut in. daryl reads into your simple response almost immediately if the expression he holds is telling; a bit taken aback, slightly flustered, understanding. there’s something in your chest that screams pride when daryl comes to realize when you’re making things about him, when you’re specifically singling him out, when you’re picking out all of his goods and positives and displaying them before himself.

daryl preens under your touch. the touch of yours that continues to travel, dancing in his hair, brushing against the skin of his face, running knuckles over cheekbones and forehead wrinkles. every crevice, every bump different. it’s distracting for daryl, you learned prior, lures his mind to a standstill, tugs the words back down his throat. he’s typically left with little to say to you when you’re on him like this, instead speaks with his eyes of a solace he finds between the both of you.

“your hands.” he eventually comments.

“my hands?” although now under scrutiny, they don’t pause their exploration.

“warm. said you were freezin’.”

your lips purse then at his delayed reckoning, laughter at the tip of your tongue. it slips despite your efforts, low and loose, makes daryl squint in situational ignorance. at the prison, daryl had once complimented your laugh under and against the metal of the cell beds, had thrown a ‘nevermind’ in quickly after you’d cooed at him for it.

“well, of course they’re warm now.” you bring them to his neck now, tip of your thumbs caressing his ears. “still cold all over, though.”

and instead of questioning you further, instead of coming up to engulf you in a hug, daryl brings his face into your abdomen. it’s not a punch of air that you lose, but your ability to form coherent thoughts. it’s him not exactly nuzzling, but breathing steadily into the cloth of your shirt, soft inhale, soft exhale. this means something because it always means something.

daryl hides the sudden salacious fervor on his face in the shield that your body creates. it’s obvious, so obvious, because he’s strong and unmoving where you attempt to lift his head.

while it is sudden, the dots seem to connect—daryl, with his lack of space to ever position himself to submit, does so openly right now because there is an opening for it. while he so genuinely kneeled for his shoes, you picked up on the way his pupils dilated when he did find your eyes—ever so brief during those three second variables. it was then that you knew.

“everything okay?” you ask lightly. everything is okay, daryl is so evidently okay which is why he pursues this. you ask anyway, though. daryl says he likes verbal confirmation and reassurance from you and he’d be a hypocrite to not like for you to reciprocate.

“mhm.” it’s muffled against your body which begins to gradually curl around him, between your legs which have swamped him in. “just ain’t comfortable down here.”

“really? you aching already?” you retort with a low laugh.

daryl doesn’t say anything else, nor does he make to stand.

“dick’s hard.” is what he comes up with and it’s so sudden and not at all vague.

you’ve thought it to be the case, so it doesn’t surprise you much. it was apparent the moment he hide himself in what you’d call shame. shame that looked to only follow him in the structure of built up carnal strain that’d been canned inside of him. daryl behaved like he didn’t have a clue that he had it or how to exactly deal with it. when the relationship had sprouted into a much more personal manner, it was always you who’d ‘handle’ daryl even when he struggled finding it in himself to.

he’s bringing hands up and they’re situating themselves on your waist. his hold isn’t suffocating, but it’s tight, fidgeting where he tries to keep his energy levels even.

“if you want something, daryl..” you begin slowly, anticipating where this will take you both. where your hands still sit in daryl’s hair, you pull again and he finally gives way and holy shit.

“ask ya for it.” he finishes, and before you can ponder too long why he already looks so fucking out of it, he’s already beating you to it. “think i busted.” he grunts around the words, fingers twitching against you and he forgoes his hold to wipe the back of his hand against his lips. it looks to be a habit that has budded from his nerves which he strives to conceal.

“did you?..”

daryl curls his lips inwards, another habit, adjusts his knees on the floor. “well, it ain’t piss.“

“oh. you wanna clean up and come up here? we can just—“ daryl was weird with embarrassment, and while it was fun to poke and prod, he’d probably string himself dry thinking back on this, so you try to move it along—not mention it for a moment longer.

“nah.” i’ll stay here is what he says with his actions, bringing his face back to your abdomen, kisses through the shirt. despite his own interference daryl is still there; he shows that he still feels the sensual crave all within himself with the way he simply picks back up regardless of the mess in his pants.

admittedly, it brings a slight tremble down into the pit of your stomach.

you’re whispering out a light okay as he proceeds, hands at your waist shifting and bringing your shirt upwards, tidbits of flesh now exposed. it seems purposeful because he’s then all dry lips and scratchy facial hair against your skin, drinking you in, dirty hands squeezing where they can.

you’re calling out his name to which he responds to with a stronger aggression in action; oddly firm presses of his lips evolving into these tiny nips of teeth, pushing against you enough to send you back onto your palms.

rare were the moments that daryl’s usually subdued needs make such a sudden head. when he’s functioning one moment, high off plenty cigarettes in his normal, and the next he’s chasing you lewdly like he’s just always been without fornication—and he has.

daryl advances south, hands still at your waist, breath fanning over your pants. they’re of comfort with no zipper or buttons to act as a task to undo, so daryl gets to you easily. his hands shake a little as he hooks fingers in the waistband of your pants, not all nervousness but moreso an eagerness that it seems he struggles keeping at bay.

though despite this, he handles you with a certain gentleness and allows himself this moment of vulnerability, of exploration in a way that leaves you both bare in every sense.

your bottoms pull down and you help to kick them off and away.

“gentle.” you say when he stuffs a sweaty face directly into you, hands cupping your legs from beneath, spreading them enough to fit himself comfortably between. “i’m not as flexible as i used to be.”

“can’t tell.” he shoots back in his playfulness that is typically delivered dryly.

he shifts on his knees again, but doesn’t seem entirely too bothered, instead doesn’t spend another second without a tongue pressed wetly against you through the fabric of your garment. he laps at the cloth, grunts incoherencies, presses thumbs into your under thigh, tries to hide the not so subtle clenching in his abdomen. he’s hard again, straining and obvious, at the mercy of his body’s natural instinct to relieve the pressure by humping, rutting, fucking up into anything, searching for something.

“daryl, daryl.” you hiss when he tries to get his mouth on you whole down there, not stalling for anything. “shit, you—let’s take it slow.”

and you know in his current state it’s absurd to ask, he’s already gone.

but still, he hears you because he’s reluctantly pulling away, obedient.

“alright, now take them off, please.” you order, bringing a hand to his hair again. it creates a sort of stability for yourself, whilst for daryl it only tips him more towards the edge.

and since daryl runs on orders, he’s quick to move again with hands sliding you out of the underwear and down your legs. you assist with kicking them off and away, and daryl doesn’t give you a breath in between because he’s a wet tongue on you in an instant.

it’s like something shifts in him—like something breaks, gives way to a heavily chased after relief—seeing the way his shoulders slack. you gasp, feeling the pleasure ripple up your spine, sit hotly in your gut.

“look at you, oh my god.” you begin to taunt and it’s s bit broken off, but still holds its weight. “you look so right down there.”

daryl gives a groan in return, fingers squeezing in protest, but you know he believes it, too.

your chest fills with a breath when he pops off, and it’s beautiful how concentrated he seems with the task. for once, his cheeks tint an airbrush of pink, featherlight and detailing to you just how aroused he is.

to use emphasis, in his still state, you use the opportunity to reel him back in at the hair. it elicits something loud and ruined out of him—a moan, a whine almost. he breathes through his nose when he’s tongue and teeth and cheeks all over you again, and it makes your back arch. the sounds he produces alongside the wetness that you are has you bringing ankles to his backside, locking him in and daryl’s moans are muffled and slightly garbled in reaction.

“you’re gonna—“ cracked. “you’re so good for me, you’re gonna make me cum.”

at that, he pursues you heavier now. like he’s eager to taste you, like he wouldn’t miss it for the world, daryl brings a hand up to rub what he can’t get. it’s wet and nasty and lewdly noisy, and your moans alike. with him using two times the pleasure, it sends you over just as fast.

your eyes squeeze tight as your body racks with the aftershocks, and daryl is ragged breaths somewhere in the void and you’re not sure if it’s him coming as well or the hand deep in his strands has him that strung out.

the wound up muscles in your body release as does your hold on him, and you’re falling to your back against the mattress.

it’s a while before your eyes are peeling open again, head lulled a bit. daryl stands to his feet again at the foot of the bed, cracked bones and all.

“hey.” he starts quietly, haphazardly wipes his mouth. he hovers over you laid out on the bed, arms encasing your head and body heat transferring. “we alrigh’?” his concern etches outside of his tone and into his hot hand that now covers your cheek and ear. his thumb runs over your moist cheekbones and his eyes stick to yours like syrup.

you nod. “yeah.” you assure and watch his expression ease up. “i’m definitely alright. are you?”

he mimics your nod. “mhm.”

“don’t.” you say when he attempts to embrace you entirely. “shower. both of us.” and when he doesn’t respond—“shower. you came twice in your pants.”

daryl shoves his face in the crook of your neck then, ears red.

when the water eventually does come down on you both, it’s shameless in its lack of purity. daryl, despite the night, used a handjob from you underneath the stream before he’d grown shaky in the shoulders and grumpy in the tone, apprehensive in his age. (“ain’t built for another, you’re killin’ me.”)

and he would know himself best because he’s droopy eyes and clean hair against the pillows afterwards, sleep weighing him down. he’s still like he doesn’t feel your gaze, but squints open an eye when you speak.

“i lied about being cold. wanted you in bed.” you smile to contain laughter.

daryl scoffs. “mhm, well .. shit worked.”

[kadwrites]

deja vu | T.S

previous part | next part

or check out the series masterlist

summary; how well do we really know the people we love?

warnings ; dark!tommy, minor character death, description of violence , mentions of murder, arranged marriage!trope , slow burn, fem!reader

a/n ; please let me know what you think!

-

you tilted your head and frowned , you're both standing at the garrison.

"tommy..." you mumbled in protest

"i know" he nodded "it'll be very short."

you clicked your tongue and then huffed "if you take longer than ..... 30 minutes i'm leaving."

"ya won't."

"get out of my sight." you muttered , taking a sip of your drink.

you sighed, looking over at the place. it was fairly busy, but not stuffy. sounds of chatter and men laughing echoing around, the lighting is dim. you made your way to the booth you were in, sitting down , eyeing your drink.

"when i heard tommy was marrying again, i would've never thought it's celest's little sister that he's trapped."

you recognized the voice before even processing the words, you look up, your brows raised and smiling in disbelief "lizzie?"

she's standing there, looking over at you. her blue eyes studying every inch of your face, a face she hadn't seen in a long time. and you hadn't expected to see her here , of all places.

"what are ya doing?" she speaks softly. you know the tone, you get the meaning; what are you doing with someone like him ?

you stand up, your gaze never leaves her , still smiling. "lizzie... i've not seen ya in so long..."

since she got involved with tommy , that is. lizzie and celest knew each-other , went to school together. lizzie would sometimes stay over , whenever your mother felt she wouldn't be safe otherwise. until the war.

she chuckles, "ya 'ave your mother to thank for that."

you chuckled too, still looking at her. "how did ya know about it?"

she gives you a look, her dark brow raised "everyone knows. i just didn't know it would be someone like *you*"

you lick your lips, "lizzie i know ya two share.... a history"

she scoffs , a bitter smile on her lips "i don't resent ya for this, i wouldn't." she shakes her head "i 'ave given up on 'im... a long time ago." her eyes look away for a moment before landing on you "whatever ya think of 'im, whatever ya believe he is , he's not." she speaks with conviction.

you don't reply to that, you're just trying to know what she means by it.

"thomas shelby doesn't know love like we do, what he knows is ownership." she chuckles bitterly, "learned what that meant the hard way. but ya shouldn't go through what i did." she shakes her head softly

"i don't understand...."

she stays silent for a moment "consider this a warning from a friend, this man , *will ruin you* , and when that 'appens ya will not recognize who you've become but he.... he will remain the same, unchanged not matter how hard ya try. he will always be what he always was, no love in the world can heal whatever is broken in 'im."

"ya don't understand, lizzie." you speak finally, "this isn't simple, for either of us. i can't leave"

"ya can't or ya won't?"

"i..." you pause for a moment, letting out a chuckle "i can't."

she studies your face , nodding "what does celest think? what does oliver think?"

"they're not thrilled."

"i know 'im more than most." she adds "and if i

knew what i do now when i first met 'im....." she looks away "i came here because i knew you'd be here and to tell ya that ya can come to me... if ya ever need help."

she places a hand on your arm, looking at you one more time before turning and making her way out of the garrison.

"she was always a nice girl" your mother sighed, taking a bite of her food

you and celest look at eachother before looking back at her,

celest knew why lizzie talked to you , and so did the rest of your family

"where's abraham?" you nod towards anna

she shrugged , "he had to do something before coming here"

"ya knew who i dreamt of?" your father pointed his fork at you "that teller boy, jeremy was it?. it was the strangest thing , i tell ya"

all the women at the table tried to stay neutral, keep their reactions to a minimum, you try to hide your uncomfortable reaction behind your glass of water "it is strange"

the whole table looks towards the front door, the sound of the door slamming open and not slamming back closed, and the heavy rushed footsteps

"i need to talk to ya," he appears in the living room doorway. he puts his hands on his hips, breathing heavily as if he ran to the house. he's disheveled, he pushed his glasses back on his nose with a shaky hand

"jeremy teller is dead." he speaks in a hushed voice, looking around to check that no one is listening, both of you standing in your parents bedroom. he didn't want anyone to hear , especially not renee or she might just give birth on the spot.

"what? no he's not." you laugh, looking at him. waiting for him to finish his joke

he looks at you, wiping a hand over his face. he looks at you "he's fucking dead."

your laugh falters slowly as you look at him, your face twitching with different emotions "how ? when? how do you know about it?"

"i heard. they found 'im murdered," he tries to not speaks too loudly "his throat was slit"

you can feel your blood go cold "do they know who killed 'im?"

he tilts his head, his hands still shaking as they rest on his hips. "ya know who killed 'im."

"no....no." you shake your head, laughing again in disbelief "no no no, no" you look away and step back, putting a hand over your forehead "that's impossible."

"listen to me" he grabs your shoulders, turning you to look at him "he did it, all of small heath knows he did and ya do too."

"no , he wouldn't." you shake your head again, your heart beating so fast you can hear it. "why would he do that? he wouldn't ."

he moves you gently, sitting you down on the chair in your parents room. he kneels , his hands move to your face "what do ya wanna do now ?"

the room feels so stuffy, you can hardly breath.

"i don't know." your chest feels like it might collapse. you try to stand up, but you can barely feel your legs, you try to blink away the darkness that takes over your vision.

but you knew it was coming, the darkness does take over.

here you are again, staring at that portrait that hangs opposite of your bed. you're filled with dread , fear and even anger , your eyes trace the portrait that you've already memorized.

your head on the pillow, your sister sniffling is another reminder, like a deja vu of that cursed night.

but you can see someone else in your peripheral vision sitting in the chair , those cold blue eyes cannot be missed. its as if his presence filled the room with a cold sort of air.

you try to get up,

"lay down"

"i don't want to." you mumble, letting out a breath as you lean your back against your bed frame. your eyes still on the painting, you don't even glance his way.

"feeling better?" his voice sounds colder than you ever remember it being. the smell of the cigarette smoke making you close your eyes shut, making your head spin. you reach for the glass of water on your bedside table, your hands quiver as you bring it to your lips

"yes" you put the glass back down

"ya look pale"

"hmm"

you can't shake that feeling, you're scared of looking at him and seeing the same view you did that day, the blood on his hands.

"ya killed 'im." you're almost muttering to yourself,

he doesn't answer you, and you don't ask again. you finally peel your eyes off of the old painting, glancing at him. the look on his face gave you the answer that you already knew.

he looks so calm , so collected , almost wicked. "are ya scared now?"

and it was your turn to not answer his question, but your eyes never leave his.

"did ya do it yourself?"

"yes" he looks right back at you "you're already aware of what i can do"

you just shut your eyes, your hands shake as they grip into the covers

"forgetting it is your fault, not mine." his voice sounds again

you don't even remember the rest of that day, his words were replying in your head.

you snap out of that trance a day later, you're in the living room on the chair by the window. you look straight at the window as your mind tries to make sense of everything, and then a figure down the street catches your eyes and you feel a switch go off in your head.

i have eyes around here.

and you realize , probably ears too.

your clothes swish as you run out of the living room towards your parents' room, your mother running behind you. the old wooden floor cried under your rushed footsteps

"what happened?"

you don't even hear her, you don't process what she's saying. you pull out the box from under their bed, you rummage through it , pulling out your dad's revolver.

the cold metal of the gun feels like it's burning through your flesh

"what the fuck are ya doing? where did ya get that?" oliver yells , his eyes opened wide as tries to run after you too.

the whole house freezes, all of them just still as if the slightest movement would set that gun off

you push that door open , it slams against the wall beside it. your feel take you towards the man standing in the street , a figure you've seen lurking around too many times to chalk it up to coincidences

you cock back the hammer, your hands are steady for the first time since yesterday.

"ya tell tommy fucking shelby that if he doesn't get ya fuckers away from me , i'll start shooting."

you move the revolver and point it to the pavement , missing his foot by a hair.

-

taglist ; @tardisloverz , @optimisticsandwichgladiator , @theshelbyslimited , @illuminwtesz , @goldensunflowe-r , @gruffle1 , @warrior-of-justice , @mgdixon , @babayaga67 , @goblinjnr , @justaproudslytherpuff , @budugu , @twlegit , @amberpanda99 , @aesthetic0cherryblossom , @capswife , @lets-turn-and-burn , @affabletimelady , @edencherries , @globetrotter28 , @eg-dr3amer3 , @sadroses98 , @fairytale07 , @hakudaru , @swordofawriter , @esposadomd , @blogforficslol ، @bearchermer , @n1c0t1n4 , @dreamy-caramel , @dragonsondragons , @charli123456789 ، @bunny24sstuff ، @butterfly-lover , @my-tin-can-mans , @powellssaturn , @vlryexsworld , @h0neylemon , @citris-runaway , @swinginmusicalfunnydragon , @babyspice6 , @oatmealisweird , @yuki254 , @ce1iat , @thelastemzy , @queenofshinigamis , @bai-wuxiangs-mask , @knmendiola ، @bethexo07 , @geeky-politics-46 , @dawnzzzz , @probablypossesedbysatan , @n0vaj3an , @oscarisdaddy69 , @nadloves , @ay0nha , @whoreforaz , @starrystormwritings , @hml2918 , @bloodywickedvamp , @ajmiila02 , @torrie421 , @queen-bunny , @febris-amatoria , @verycollectivecreator , @mutareadastra ,

[bruciemilf]

AU where Thomas and Martha don't die, but Batman's still a thing!

Instead of Bruce becoming Batman, its Thomas. He's already a huge help to the city, so this nocturnal passion is for sport.

If it wasn't obvious enough, he's not the most stable guy. But he's a loving dad and exemplary husband, so it's mostly fine.

God forbid men have hobbies.

He specifically picked up a bat theme to hopefully cure Bruce of his fear! Just imagine that 6'5 error of nature cladded in black, claws with his costume cause he's sexy like that,

"See? I'm not scary at all!" But Bruce is already sobbing and hiding behind Alfred.

"Martha, you'll never guess who I saw on patrol tonight. Bruce's college roomate! The blonde one with the glasses and gay vibes. "

" Oliver?"

"Oliver who?"

" Queen?"

" Well! I think that fits you better, amore."

" Bruce's childhood friend? Known eachother since infancy? Came to you for tech?"

"Bruce had FRIENDS?"

Bruce, from the other room, " Her name is Harley! You paid her college tuition and killed her dad."

" I've never met her in my life, and i keep my kill list detailed.Anyway, I adopted her. Shes seeing that clown boy and I think his superpower is boring me to death."

The batkids still get taken in, of course. Bruce is already a full adult and outgrew his Robin costume. He just barges in with a feral Jason and Dick, " Look, Brucie! Papa's got brothers for you!"

But Bruce? Looks at these two snarling kids, kicking, thrashing, clawing, and takes them in his arms, " Babies. My babies."

" Uh... Come again,,-" But Thomas raised a spoiled BRAT, so Bruce definetly bites him and throws a tantrum until he agrees to pass full custody. Naturally, Alfred and Martha have no sympathy.

"But you're too young to be a dad!"

" I'm 27."

" Young. A fetus. Cousin Gomez's newborn is older than you." Bruce is already drawing the adoption papers. Fight him about it.

Naturally, instead of dating his rogues, Thomas parents them. Imagine you're Selina Kyle and Batman scolds you for getting caught by the cops, " You know better. Villain privileges REVOKED."

Mr Freeze? Thomas gets it. Do what you gotta do, King. You need some pocket money?

Khoa? Problematic son. Thomas adores him and brags about him to every family reunion. "Your daughter tried to poison you for inheritance? That's adorable, Agatha. Khoa kidnapped Alfred last week. Beat that."

Ivy? Thomas invites her to beer and game night and plays matchmaker with her and Harley.

Waylon is his favourite. Naturally, he's the only one adopted legally.

He fist fights Ra's for Talia's custody and she is desperately shoving Damian in his face. Trust her. You don't want to go through with it.

the image of Batman not being a broody, stoic vigilante and instead Gomez Addams with a cape makes me weep

[lovehurtsandilikeitthatway]

Nightmares

Male Yandere x Reader

Hi everyone!! This my first ever time posting my writing on here, so I'm a little nervous- English isn't my first language so sorry if there are some grammar/spelling mistakes or anything like that 😭 Please know that I don't support any kind of "yandere" behaviour irl and if you have any person like that in your life, make sure to distance yourself from them and stay safe 🙏 I tried not to romanticise the yandere-ish in this either so I hope it doesn't come off that way.

WARNINGS‼️: Yandere behaviour, cursing, abuse, needles, mentions of panic attacks, drugs, kidnapping, manipulation, noncon touching/kissing (nothing nsfw), blood, biting, knives, death

Four years. It had been exactly four years ever since you managed to escape the hellhole that was your abusive boyfriend's apartment. Four years since you left Japan too; as you wanted to make sure he'd never find you again. Now you lived in London as a librarian, in a small run-of-the-mill apartment all by yourself. It was a quiet life; but you liked it that way. You had to change your name to make sure he couldn't get to you, and thus you couldn't have much contact with your family and friends still in Japan. It hurt you, knowing that you were so far apart from them, but it was much better than being stuck in that place with no way out.

Of course; it had started out like any other relationship. You were both in university; he was a business major and quite popular, as his parents owned a well known company which he was bound to inherit. But his riches weren't the only thing that made him popular. He was also known for being very charismatic with a large social circle, having near flawless grades and (amongst the female school body, mainly) being fairly handsome on top of all that too. You'd be a liar to say you didn't have a bit of a crush on him at first too; but it was very similar to a celebrity crush. He was unobtainable and you had created an ideal version of him in your head; so you could fantasize yourself going on a date with him or some other crush of yours from time to time for the funsies. You thought that would be all he'd ever be to you; but boy were you wrong.

Surprisingly, you met at a house party. The host was a friend of a friend; and you were basically convinced to go by your friend group despite being hesitant. It turned out that, just as you suspected, the party wasn't really your vibe; but your friends were having fun. So you decided to go hangout in the backyard by yourself until another friend of yours had to go, so you didn't feel awkward being the first in the friend group to leave. Surprise surprise, he was there too. You two ended up striking conversation; and he sheepishly confessed that he didn't really like the party either, but had to stay because the "friend of a friend" was actually a close friend of his. So you pretty much spent the entire party talking with eachother; and the ideal version you had made up of him in your mind was gone by the time it was over. Not in a bad way. You guys had a lot of things in common after all; and he also had his flaws, just like you. He was no longer the popular mr.perfect guy you thought he was; and it was rather attractive.

You became friends; and your friendship soon blossomed into much more. He was a good boyfriend at the start. Dates, flowers, heartfelt conversations, mutual love and respect. You know, all the very basic factors of any healthy, loving relationship. Within a year into the relationship, though, things began to...change for the worst. He'd grow paranoid whenever you went out with friends without him; he kept pestering you about moving in with him even though you weren't ready for something like that yet.... You had mentioned multiple times in the past that you were skeptical about marriage, kids, all that mambo jambo. Still, he'd often bring up how he wanted to get married and have a family with you. It was kinda sweet, at first. You understood that it came from a place of love; but the affection smothering and how controlling he was slowly becoming grew far too much.

The straw that broke the camel's back? He proposed. On your "a year and a half anniversary" date, he got down on one knee and proposed. You were very taken aback; and the fact he wanted to marry you and start a whole life with you was again very touching in theory, but not so much when all the times you two had this very conversation came in mind. All the times you expressed how you weren't sure and needed more time; and he seemingly understood and accepted that just to pull something like this on your anniversary. You explained your side, yet again, and he wasn't pleased. An argument broke out; and it got bad. By the end, you told him that if what you both wanted didn't match up; this wouldn't work. You tried walking out. Again, he wasn't pleased.

And what did he do? Oh, just smashed a bottle of wine on the back of your head.

It was a miracle you didn't die; but you did pass out. And what followed after was the most hellish year of your life. Your dear boyfriend turned kidnapper basically lied to every single person in your life; saying you had decided to drop out of uni to move in with him and start a family. And because his family was very influential, with many connections, and also because he had such a prestige reputation, no one batted an eye. Your family did, of course; they knew you best. But why would such a kindhearted, hardworking honour student from a good family ever lie?

He spent a year trying to brainwash you into giving in; brainwashing you into giving him the perfect life he wanted, with a stay-at-home partner and children and everything, not allowing you to get out of the apartment or as much as breathe without him supervising. Nevermind that you were screaming your lungs out, begging him to let you go home and reminding him how much of a monster he was despite the gentleman-like façade he'd put not only in front of others, but also in front of you.

Eventually, after many failed attempts, you managed to bust the cameras in his apartment and pick the lock while he was out. You stole just enough money to get you an one way ticket to whatever place was available and also got back your phone; only being able to part with your friends and family via text messages and calls. Going to the police was out of the question. Why? Cause you had tried that in the past; and it didn't end well for you. The police weren't going to help; the only one who could protect you was yourself.

You didn't like thinking about it; the year you had spent in his apartment. Your therapist had advised you to stop living in the past and focus on the present; but it was so hard to try and put all that trauma behind you. Everytime you had to go outside you'd always look over your back; afraid you'd see him again. Afraid he'd somehow find you and make you pay for leaving him before dragging you right back. Sometimes you'd even think you caught glimpse of him across the street; causing you to have a mini panic attack. It was never fun. You hated it. You hated the fact that even though you managed to escape him; it felt like he came along with you.

Nevertheless, you tried to continue living. You met new people at the library, became friends with a sweet old lady from your apartment building, even started writing your very own book as a hobby, which you always wanted! You were doing well for yourself. You were slowly able to pick the pieces that had broken off of you; and you were proud of it. You were proud of managing to wake up everyday, making sure to eat, get to work, go through the work day- and reach the end of said workday. Just like you did today.

Work had ended for today. You said goodbye to your co-workers and began working home; fantasising about crashing onto your couch and staying there for the rest of the evening. It had been quite the tiring day and all you wanted to do was just get home, put on a random TV channel and maybe take a nap. Eventually, you reached your apartment complex. You lived on the first floor; so thankfully you didn't have to climb any stairs. Soon, you were standing right outside your front door. Your hands reached into your shoulder bag and pulled out your house key, inserting it into the keyhole in order to unlock the door.

However, the door was already unlocked.

Your blood immediately went cold; hand still on the key as you stared at the door with wide eyes. There was no way it could be him, right? If he hadn't found you in four years now, what could possibly lead him to you? Your heart began racing; breathing already getting heavy. You were panting, you just realised. You could hear your own heartbeat echo in your ears. Were you on the verge of another panic attack? Closing your eyes tight, you tried to take a deep breath and compose yourself; focusing on your environment instead of your ever growing panic, as your therapist had instructed you to do at moments like this one. The way the handle's metal felt cold against your grip, bird chirping from a nearby window, the sound of the elevator going down; most likely for the old lady you had befriended, as this was the time she'd usually get home from feeding the stray dogs in the neighborhood. She was so sweet.

Let's think rationally: you were far away from Japan, you had changed your name as well as your appearance (as much as you could force yourself to) and you had managed to maintain this quiet life of yours for four whole years. In those four years; you had received no calls or messages from him either, because you of course also had to change your number, email and delete any social media you had just to be sure. All that being said; the door was open when it was not supposed to- and then it hit you; did you actually lock the door this morning? Even though you were extremely paranoid; there had been an instance or two of you forgetting to lock the door before leaving for work, usually when you were feeling extra tired or stressed. Even four years later; sleeping didn't come easy to you. You started having sleep paralysis quite often, but instead of feeling like someone was pushing onto your chest hard, there was the suffocating sensation of his hands wrapped around your waist so tight that you'd think your organs would pop out any second.

Admitting that you're a complete idiot isn't easy; but you'd take it any day over the possibly of him somehow having gotten into your apartment. So, with the mentality of a broke middle aged man taking the risk of one last gamble in order to hit the jackpot, you decided to put your fears aside and push the door forward so you could get home.

Because, guess what? You were so sick of this.

Sick of living in fear, of having panic attacks every other day and jumping like a terrified kitten whenever you see a man who slightly resembles him pass by you. Sick of not being able to close your eyes every night because instead of the back of your eyelids, all you see is each and every time he'd touch you like he owned you.

And now that he didn't 'own you' any longer, your trauma did. And he was technically the personification of your trauma. He still owned you.

Fuck him. Fuck this. All of this. You just wanted to lay down and sleep like a normal person. Talk to your friends like a normal person. Sometimes you'd forget that you were actually that: normal and a person, since he had spent an entire year making you think otherwise. So no; you weren't going to let your fear control you and remain standing outside your apartment after an exhausting work day. You weren't going to deprive yourself of the basic right and necessities everyone else had.

You were now inside the apartment. Your small, cluttered apartment that had only one bedroom; a bathroom that could only fit a shower rather than a bathtub and a living room that was connected to the kitchen, all in the very same space. You immediately took off your shoes, locked the door behind you and hung your shoulder bag on one of the two chairs you had at the kitchen table before basically collapsing onto the couch, not caring to change into something more comfortable just yet. Your clothes weren't all that uncomfortable, actually. You didn't have much energy this morning; so you had worn a more casual, comfy outfit, not putting much thought into it. It was an outfit that you could easily sleep in no problem; which you started to realise when you began feeling yourself already drifting to sleep. Deep inside, you knew that there were other things that probably had priority; like taking a shower or making dinner but....did they really? You could do all that after taking a nap. You hadn't been able to sleep a full eight hours without waking up every hour or so for awhile now anyway. The moment you wake up, you'd get to all those important tasks that were needed for you to continue functioning- but it had been the first time that sleep sought you out rather than you taking sleep medication in weeks, and you weren't going to waste such a rare act of mercy by your system. Within a few minutes, you were out like a light.

“Look at you, all curled up in the couch....Is it that much better than the king sized bed we'd share?”

A voice called out to you. You couldn't make whose voice, however. You were still pretty much out of it; half asleep. You didn't even know what day it was, much less where or who that voice came from.

“Oh, you must be sleepy. These eyebags on your pretty face tell me enough; you haven't slept properly in awhile, hm?” the voice questioned, and you swore you could feel something hot blow against your ear before it spoke again, this time closer. But also ice cold in terms of tone. “Guess what? Neither have I, not without you in my arms.”

Oh. Oh. You knew who this voice belonged to. You might've been still asleep practically; but it was like an alarm had gone off in your head, like some natural instinct telling you a predator was nearby and you shouldn't be sleeping right now. It wasn't the first time you had felt like this, though. You'd have this feeling whenever you'd randomly feel like you're being watched, whenever you'd see an unknown number call you, whenever you were all by yourself. You had grown too used to this feeling. You'd respond to it everytime, jumping up and looking around frantically with yet another panic attack waiting for you just around the corner. This feeling had been ruining every waking moment from your life ever since you managed to free yourself; and this feeling was about to absolutely demolish the amazing nap you've been having so far. The nap that you've been needing for months, week, years now.

Not this time. You knew what was going on. You were most likely about to star in the psychological thriller of a dream every single one of your night terrors were. But you wouldn't play along, again, this time. You didn't budge, even with someone's breath right next to your ear. The only thing you did was turn in your sleep, now facing the back of the couch.

“Poor thing..... I told you all about this, did I not? The outside world is full of stress. It sucks the life out of you, it makes you miserable. Just look at what you got yourself into without me; all alone in some foreign country, working yourself to the bone and living in this cockroach infested, century old apartment.” it continued to whisper condescendingly; dripping with fake sympathy. It was truly a wonder how your brain could remember every single one of his patterns in the way he spoke and put you down. His words, despite being absolutely just part of your nightmare, didn't fail to make your heart swell up with the feeling of inferiority and uselessness.

But a second later you couldn't feel his breath on your skin any longer; and you assumed this nightmare was going to progress further differently or you'd just wake up.

“You see, when I came home that day and couldn't find you anywhere I went through such a rollercoaster of emotions,” Ah. Seems like the fact nightmare him had pulled away didn't stop his voice from going on and on. Wonderful. “I was devastated and panicked and frantic- I looked everywhere for you. But I think that the main emotion that has been stirring me for the past four years is anger.” It breathed out, “At first it was all directed at you. The fact that you just left me like that after everything I did for you, all the love I showed you... Did you think that whenever I'd tell you how I couldn't breathe without you near me, I was just trying to be romantic?” scoffed his voice. “I haven't been breathing, actually. It doesn't feel like breathing anymore. It feels like something hallow and bitter comes out of me; like pitch black smoke. You poisoned me the day you left.”

Of course the blame's on you. It always was, no matter what would happen between you two. When he'd cuff you to the bed to the point that you'd almost lose circulation in both wrists, it was your fault for staring at the front door for too long. When he'd shove food down your throat, since declining food was the only form of protest you could pull off sometimes, it was your fault for not wanting to be fed by your kidnapper.

“But I forgive you,”

How generous of him.

“I forgive you because you're the only person who's ever loved me. And the only person I've ever managed to love. You might've poisoned me, my love, but you're also the only antidote.”

You couldn't deny, that even if it was just another stupid nightmare, it brought shivers down your spine. This wasn't the first time you had seen him in your sleep, but this was the first time your mind had crafted such an accurate depiction of him and that was much scarier than the more violent nightmares you've been having. You wanted to rest so bad; but it wasn't worth going through this. And you were feeling a little hungry anyway. Sure, you wouldn't be able to nap again for like a week, but it was a necessary sacrifice if it meant not having to listen to his voice playing over and over again in your head like a broken record.

Instinctively, you turned around to sit up, but before you could get to the sitting up part you felt a hand cup your cheek and your body went frozen on impact, not daring to move a muscle. A very familiar cologne then reached your nostrils; and you were one hundred percent sure of whose cologne it was. Just like how you were one hundred percent sure about who the voice that had been tormenting you for these past few minutes belonged to. You knew it was him; but you tricked yourself into believing that it was just a nightmare. But it had to be a nightmare, right? How could he possibly find you after four years- how could he possibly know you fled to London? You had envisioned this very scenario in your head countless times on restless nights, thinking of every possibility and every single detail so you'd be ready if it ever were to happen; but now you remained stuck in the face of danger.

You didn't want to open your eyes; but you were trembling. He could tell you were awake. And you could tell that he could tell; as you could've sworn you heard his lips forming into a twisted smirk. With his right left hand still cupping your cheek; he leaned closer again and wiped away the tears you hadn't realised were forming in your eyes before starting to rub supposedly soothing circles into your back. “Aw....there's no need to cry, everything will be fine now that we'll be together again. I might've been angry at you for leaving; but now I'm more angry at myself. Angry that I couldn't keep you with me. This time, things will be different.”

His hand finally left your back, and even though your eyes were still shut; you heard his footsteps. He had went to get something, and without a second thought, you stood up; only for him to quickly push you back to the couch. That's when your eyes opened and finally met his own, four years later. But your eyes didn't focus on his facial features. They didn't care to observe whether he had changed or not, the way he looked at you; or if he too had the very same sagging eyebags as you did. All your eyes saw was a monster. A terrifying creature made of all your fear, anxiety- a sight that brought you terror and a nausea inducing sensation in your stomach. What you were looking at didn't feel human, this situation didn't feel real, the line between nightmare and reality had been blurred. There had been instances in the past where you'd pity him somewhat; reminding yourself that he was too a person and the reason he was this way was because he had been damaged from a very young age, gone through terrible things that molded him into what he is today. He had told you all about it himself.

But right now; all you saw before you was a boogieman. And like the scared child you always had been deep inside; you could do nothing but let out a blood curling scream.

“Sssh! Quiet-” He hushed you, forcibly putting his hand over your mouth, “...Still a screamer. Some things never change. Adorable.” he chuckled, in such a disgustingly lovey-dovey way. It felt like he was being genuine; like he truly does find it cute. As if there truly was some absurd form of love behind his words. And honestly? It made them all the more repulsive. It made you want to gag; but gagging wouldn't help, so you did the next best thing. You bit down on his hand as hard as your teeth allowed you and he hissed in pain; but didn't pull away. In fact, he backed you even further into the couch, seemingly searching for something in his pocket with the hand you weren't currently sinking your teeth into. When he found it; he plunged it into your neck with zero hesitation.

For a second, you thought it was a knife. His own way of making sure you'd never leave him, you reckoned, because how could you ever attempt to run from him if you were dead? He had always been a narcissist after all, something you realised a little too late into your relationship back when you guys were still in one. You wouldn't put the possibility of him wanting to be the very last thing you see before you die above him. The satisfaction of knowing you died in his arms; and that you'd never speak to anyone else ever again (including him, but you doubted he cared anymore), as your vocal cords wouldn't be able to work as a decaying corpse; with no beating heart to pump blood into you.

Until he took the unknown object out of your neck; bringing it into your viewpoint. It wasn't a pocket knife or scissors or anything like that. It was a syringe. A syringe that was definitely filled with something which is currently entering your bloodstream. And you knew what that something was; because you remembered him doing the very same thing multiple times before in your sole year of captivity, whenever you'd fight him for far too long and his patience would run thin.

A syringe pumped with drugs to put you to sleep; as well as keep you all docile and rag-doll-ish for a couple of hours.

“It's okay. Go back to sleep, sweetheart. It's just a nightmare, shh.....” He murmured; removing his wounded hand from your mouth and pressing a light kiss on your half-open lips. You didn't know whether his words were mockery or a genuine attempt at comforting you; but neither would make you hate him any more or less.

Still, in that moment, you chose to believe him. You chose to believe that this was truly all a nightmare; you'd wake up at your couch, go make some food, watch some TV and continue your quiet life. It was definitely better than accepting it was about to become a living nightmare all over again.

___________________________________

Thank you for reading!! Feel free to ask me whatever you want or give me feedback on my writing, I'm open to all feedback cause I do genuinely wanna get better <3 Have a great day/night 🩷🩷

Word Count: 4,219 (I think!!)

[shxxxbi]

EVERYTHING THAT WASN'T INCLUDED IN LOVE SEA THE SERIES 🌊

Episode 2 (Chapters: 4 - 8)

<-prev next->

Why get your hands dirty?

One of the biggest differences between the novel and the show is Tongrak's attitude during intimate times with Mut. Rak is very horny for Mut ever since he first lays eyes on him, often wondering what he tastes like or what sex with him would be like but, despite his bold thoughts, Tongrak tends to be very submissive during spicy times. Here for example, Rak doesn't eat the urchin himself, nor does he suck Mut's finger on his own. It's Mahasamut who starts caressing his lips and then slowly forces them apart with his finger. Rak lets it happen, thrilled by this new situation he had never encountered before, where "the hunter in him felt like it was being hunted".

🍑

Though depicted as a blowjob in the show, what you should know about our little island treasure is that Mut is a man who eats ass. He worships ass. He'd eat ass all day, if he could. And he is terribly good at it. At least that's what Rak tells us, as he finds his thighs pushed up against his stomach and gets devoured by a wicked tongue that doesn't stop, even after Tongrak cums.

Happy horny puppy

Despite initially doubting his abilities, Mahasamut isn't mad at Tongrak for rushing him back to the island to work. He isn't angry, upset nor irritated that he couldn't get to release or that the writer is ignoring him. Mahasamut is happy. He's happy that Tongrak finally looks like he's enjoying his work. He is happy that Tongrak is smiling looking at the screen. He is happy that Rak's eyes now "sparkled with life". However, as he admired the writer working, Mut couldn't stop his eyes from lingering on the fair neck smeared with sand and reddening from sunburn. He wanted to bite into that neck and taste again "how sweet that fair skin was".

Money is not a problem

At this words, both of them closed the distance "as if they had been waiting for this moment all along". Tongrak's submissive nature shows again quickly, as Mut scoops his leg to bring their lower parts together: he complies easily when the younger boy brings his hand to hold them and rub against eachother, while a hot mouth licks and nips at the skin of his neck. Tongrak is delirious with excitement, he loves it when Mahasamut bites him and Mut knows it. He seems to know exactly where to suck, lick and bite to drive the older man crazy, to the point where the only words he could get out are "Mahasamut, suck, suck more. Ah, it's so good", as he kept grinding into Mut like an animal in heat.

Since he had already given in, why hide his desires any longer?

🌶️

Another thing you should know about Mut is that doesn't only eat ass, he spanks ass. After picking a condom that fit him, he turns around to find Tongrak on all fours on the bed, his legs spread wide. The sight provoking the young boy to the point he couldn't help but slap those cheeks. His desire for the writer was unbearable, making him thrust deep into the man. His size so big, it fills Rak in all the right places, bringing tears to his eyes.

"Can you take it?"

"I don't know, Mahasamut, I don't know."

As they fucked, Mahasamut wondered where to kiss and touch to make the person in his embrace melt, only to find out shortly after that Tongrak loved him plunging deep, even after the writer had already climaxed.

"Damn it, Rak, how could you let him do something like that?!"

Our little princess may have kicked Mut out of the room, and out of him, after the younger boy had tried to kiss him at the end of their sexy times. But his thoughts were quite different. Rak considered the sex exceptional, in the top three experiences of his life. It was so good he'd "almost choked to death trying to suppress the desire for another round".

Also, despite being kicked out, Mahasamut made sure a set of fragrant Thai food was delivered to Rak's room, so that the he could eat something before falling asleep.

The boy is mine

Tongrak tried to ignore it at first. He really did. But then a question popped into his head.

"How could he let his dog go and rub up against someone else's legs after he'd already bought it?"

As for Mut, he loved it. He loved that Tongrak showed possessiveness over him, just as much as he liked being a dog on a leash.

"Damn, he is too cute. I just want to fuck him right here, right now".

"It hurts!"

Hearing Tongrak's words, or rather Mr. Cutie as Mut liked to think of him, he quickly bent down to check if the other man's legs had been too close to the exhaust pipe or if he'd been hit by a stone along the way. After knowing the reason, Mahasamut helps Rak get off the bike by wrapping his arm around the writer's waist. He proceeds to tell Tongrak he'll be more gentle.

"No need. I can handle it. I like it rough".

Restaurant scene

After hearing what the Auntie had to say about Mut personality, Rak couldn't help but stare at the young man in front of him. He sensed nothing but goodwill, sincerity and respect, no matter how annoying he could be. The two then talk about Palm and what he had said about Mut being the island's treasure. Recalling the conversation they had had at the bar, Rak starts biting his lip. Mut reaches out to gently caress his mouth with his thumb, asking Tongrak to stop biting.

"Not your business"

"Yes, it's none of my business. But when you bite your lips... I want to kiss you".

Rak's dive

As we know, Rak is actually a certified diver. He got into deep diving thanks to Connor and they often dived together. He enjoyed it but didn't necessarily love it, as his hair and skin got easily damaged, so he eventually stopped. This dive, however, he craved. Rak had been around people for so long, he'd forgotten what tranquillity felt like. In the past, he liked being around people to mask his loneliness. He hated how miserable his large house made him feel, so he used to hang out with his friends as much as possible. Through writing tho, he found out there could be beauty to loneliness too and that he liked being alone, at least while he's working. This dive reminded him of this feeling, made him feel at peace, so he allowed his body to float in the sea. The feeling doesn't last long though, as the vastness and quietness of it all start to overwhelm him. Mahasamut arrives to lead him back to the surface. Contrary to the series however, Tongrak does not have a panic attack, nor does he recall painful memories of his family.

[psuedosugu]

suguru still remembers the first time he kissed you.

pt 1 || pt 2

notes: i need to swap spit with this man asap

- it was after the school year ended, in the hot, hot months of summer. the 2 of you lazed around in his room, the fan placed in front of you two in full blast, some forgettably bland pop song playing on your old portable speaker.

you were sat next to suguru, wearing nothing on top except for your pretty bra because, in your words, “we’ve known eachother for a while, and its soooo hot in hereee,” you whined, “ you won’t mind, right?” and of course he said yes, that it wouldn’t bother him. knowing him for a while didn’t rid him of his urge to stare, though, nor did it rid you of your oh, so quiet desire for him to do just that.

the two of you were conversing about some cheesy romance movie the two of you had watched the night before, nevermind the fact that he had been imagining the 2 of you in place of the main actors the whole time, imagining what it would be like to call you his, to take you out on dates, to feel the radiating warmth of your lips on his.

you didn’t even notice the shiver that went down his spine when you leaned on his shoulder. that sickeningly sweet smile on your face as you went on and on about how you would die to have a love like that, though the movie was less than mediocre, you were a hopeless romantic, after all. god, you would be the death of him. maybe he wouldn’t even mind if you were.

he could give you that, he thought, he could give you everything. but he didn’t say that though, instead opting to listening to you rant. your voice was like that of an angel and siren combined, drawing him in with its softness and light, you seemed to brighten every room you were in.

“-right suguru?…suguru? suguru! you there?” you snapped him out of his lovesick daze, lightly shaking him by the shoulders. “u-uh, yeah, im fine.” he attempts to ground himself, but your eyes are just too pretty to not get lost in, too gorgeous to not want to wander through for all of eternity.

“suguru, why do you always stare at me like that?” you ask. he’s taken aback. “like what?” he stammers out. “like you wanna take a bite out of me or something.” you respond, half joking. “im not- its just-“ he felt like his brain was short circuiting, and the non-existent gap between the both of you wasn’t helping.

you giggled at his embarrassment, and you can’t exactly put a finger on why you did what you did next, maybe the heat had you feeling a bit delirious, maybe you were just feeling extra brave, or maybe you could feel it, that tension in the ear, he could feel it too, but you leaned in and before he could realize what was going on-

-lips smashing on lips, hard and desperate at first, but then just as soft and sweet as he imagined. he was frozen at first, almost feeling like he was in a dream state, but he gradually melted into it, his arms wrapping around your back, yours wrapping around his neck, two people hopelessly in love.

you pull back for air, mind hazy, body shaking with anticipation. he does the same and you two just sit there for a bit, processing everything. your thoughts collide as the both of you start to speak. “that was-“ “-you’re so-“ “-do you-“ “-we’re not even-“, not even a couple, is what you were going to say, but you wanted to be. you needed him more than you needed to breathe.

“[name], i-“ “suguru,” you interrupt, “i want this. i want you, i want us.” you look up at him with pleading eyes that suck the breath out of his lungs. “…i know, i know.” he starts, “lets just take things easy for now, though, okay?” you nod, leaning on his chest, face hot, though you haven’t felt this airy in months, you feel like you could get used to this.

[libertyybellls]

KNEW THE GAME & PLAYED IT ?

pairing; finnick odair x f!reader

summary; finnick has to let you go to save you- he can’t simply see you off if he still has his teeth sunk in- he has to make you hate him.

contains; ANGST, self hatred, insults, mean!finnick, manipulation, alcohol consumption, mentions of forced prostitution

a/n: this might be like a ballpark idea because in retrospect i don’t see finnick being rude but honestly as a last resort, i think he’d be able to suck it up and go for the throat… but that’s just me thinking w my dick…

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

all he needed was the right moment, the right moment where he’d be just barely drunk and in the capitol- waiting for his capitol facade to fall right into place, for his mask to be put on and become self assured, confident, charming, arrogant.

he loved you to the point of no return, he loved you so badly that he thought encasing himself around you would be able to yield the harsh bullets the capitol shot your way- his plans went awry when you had been reaped for the 70th hunger games.

it was only after panick attacks, after sitting infront of his screen- watching you kill, starve and scream, did he realize that if you came out of this- the only way he’d be able to protect you would be to have nothing to do with you.

finnick thought he was a plague, he held himself responsible for his parents death, for not being able to help mags out enough, for not being able to save his own tributes. he was a plague and it was sickening- he wouldn’t let himself hurt you any longer.

he’d held you after you won your games, showered you, comforted you at night, talked you through the nightmares-even when he had his own demons tormenting every waking moment of his life.

but once your victory tour had ended, he couldn’t quite let you go- it seemed you couldn’t either. he’d isolate himself, keeping himself locked away in the victor’s village. he feared if he even went outside his home, his feet would lead him right back to your doorstep, like a puppy.

but you would barge in, you’d cry to eachother, hold eachother, make up, tell eachother you’d never leave, that you can’t be apart from one another.

and that part wasn’t a lie, he couldn’t breath without your familiar scent suffocating him, he couldn’t sleep if you weren’t wrapped around him, he couldn’t eat if he wasn’t sitting across from you. but he’d give up the oxygen, the food, the sleep, just so you would be safe. he’d do it any day if you asked him.

so here you were, at a capitol party- one of many you required to go to. finnick had avoided you all night, staying put at the side of the older woman who’d bought his nineteen year old self for the night.

he’d laugh, drink, joke with these monsters only to hold back the inconsolable sobs that begged to leave his throat at the thought of what he would do to you later.

you were hugged in a black dress, sticking out like a sore thumb in the sea of neons. it was only about halfway through the party that his eyes found yours, you swore you saw guilt and pity flash through them.

“excuse me, i’ll be in the restroom.” he smiled to the woman next to him, she didn’t seem to be too distraught at him taking leave.

you followed him to the outdoor terrace, shivering once the cold wind made contact with your backless dress and shoulders.

once away from all of the windows he leaned on the railing, sucking his lips into his teeth.

you stopped beside him, ready for an embrace- only met with his cold stare down at you.

it was then that finnick decided he would bite the bullet- and he could’ve sworn he could taste the gunpowder down his throat already.

“what wrong finnick?”you grabbed his bare shoulder with one hand, the other one touching his face. he swore he could’ve melted, could’ve forgotten all about saving you right there- to continue poisoning you with the fatal injection that was being associated with him.

finnick laughed that signitaure faux-money grabbing laugh. “oh come one princess, you don’t have to act like you need me anymore.” he shrugged out of your touch.

your eyes squinted, was this an act, was this him wanting to end things? there was a fine line between love and pure obsession and you hadn’t known where it started or where it ended. “what?” you move towards him again- it seemed being too far away made the cool air more unbearable.

“i’m sure you loved the money, the sponsors, the jewels, everything the capitol- everything i gave you” his eyes were dark, selling the act, glaring down into your soul. “but you won your games y/n, no need to follow me around like a lost puppy anymore.”

was that what you’d done? was that what it’d seemed like? like you were stringing him along for your survival?

you blamed the wind still blowing in your face for your watery eyes, but it was more so the sound of your heart shattering with each word he spoke. venom; hot and heavy on his beautiful mouth- and he spit it at you like you were dirt.

“i don’t understand finnick? i thought-“

he only laughs this time, so sinister, so in your face, he takes a step closer to you, sizing you up. “you thought we loved eachother?” he mocks, raising his eyebrows and amusement. his body is giving out and his heart is breaking inside- but he’d much rather live miserably and rot away than watch the capitol strip you of all you were good for simply because they had the picture perfect sex symbols as a couple. “i mean the sex was great, y/n- don’t get me wrong. but thats all it was. you trying to survive, and me taking the opportunity for pleasure.”

your first tear falls, he’s tearing you to shred. tearing through your sheer layer of clothes and the skin beneath it, reaching for you heart, grabbing it then throwing it to the concrete.”how could you say that? after everything how dare you say that?” you sob out.

“oh baby, i thought you knew?” he shakes his head at you, you feel like your a little girl again, but not free nor innocent and happy. you feel excluded- cut out, labeled as something subjective, so ripe, yet so very rotten.

“finnick let’s just leave.” blinking through tears, you go to grab his arm but he shakes out of your grip, disgust written on his face. if only you’d known it was all for himself. if only you’d known what the capitol would make the two of you do if this went any further- what snow would do. “let’s leave, we can go home, we can talk about this finnick.” you beg, raw emotion tears through you voice as you plead through tears.

he flashes you the most charming smile, “i love the flattery, but if you want to spend the night with me- all you have to do is take a bid and buy me out princess.” his smile drops as he turns around to walk out. “glad to know what the eroticism of your company brings though, tastes like a whole lot of tears and daddy issues.”

people have begun to flow into the terrace now, admiring the view. but your view was the man you’d given every last bit of your mind body and soul to, walking away without looking back.

your legs can’t bare to carry your body, can’t bare to keep up with his long strides that beg to put a distance between you two. “finnick!” you scream, almost growl.

but he’s gone, whisked away back into the party.

you want to scream, you want to vomit, your stomach is doing flips. every part of you feels violated.

some part of you wishes you died in that arena, and some part of him does too.

-

send requests!!! i’ll be taking them asap!!

[mischieveousmayhem]

I'm thinking of Bruce Wayne x stark!reader. What if their company are just rivals that don't like eachothers guts very much? They met eachother with their mask on so they both didn't know eachothers identity. So like, I get the idea of there's a maybe commotion in one of the gala they both are invited, maybe one of the rogues did sum crazy again that needs both of them to act fast. And things starts brewing from there😧🔥🔥🔥

Hidden Teamwork

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Stark! Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: CROSSOVER, violence, enemies to lovers.

Synopsis: Y/N L/N sets foot into Gotham City for a Gala for the biggest and richest companies. However, it can't be a normal night.

A/N: Thank you so much for all the likes and follows I have received!! I apologize for disappearing but I am starting to write again:) Please enjoy!

—

Wayne Empire; one of the biggest companies to exist. Stark International; Another big company.

Though they both have their similarities, it didn't mean necessarily they were allies, realistically they clashed because they were so big, popular and most importantly similar.

There was a big Gala, where all businesses sent one representative to. Which you, Y/N Stark, was sent to Gotham City, to represent her big brother's company, which was founded by their father.

Of course, you were not thrilled because THE Bruce Wayne was going to be there, and you would have to put on the most phony smile ever and thug it out.

You stood in the middle of the gala, in a black dress/suit, blending in with everyone else. You were talking to a bunch of other business owners and workers, who had brilliant ideas to expand their companies. You even found a few companies you could work with in the future.

However, you couldn't fully avoid the billionaire himself, Bruce Wayne. The two of you had crossed paths multiple times and never even dared to speak to each other. Instead, death stares were thrown at each other, which you have to say is childish for their big age.

The peaceful night, turned not so peaceful as suddenly there was a big explosion heard. You turned around and saw a bunch of goons with guns, and other sorts of weapons. You look around trying to figure out the best place to suit up.

Before trying to find a place to suit up, you help escort innocent people outside of the building.

"Help!!" An elderly voice says behind you. It's an old man who runs another one of the biggest companies ever, you rush to his side immediately.

"I got you sir, we need to get out, it's not safe for us." You say while helping him. You bite your lip clearly stressed out.

After escorting everyone out, you go in an alley nearby and suit-up. You're trying your newest invention, the collapsable suit.

After you got your suit on, you were officially "Iron-Sib", which was short for Iron Sibling because you weren't exactly an official avenger, but you were there in dire situations.

You fly to the gala and levitate in front of the goons, who were hired by top-notch villains.

"Face it Vi—" You were about to tell the goons to surrender because they will never win however, a dark figure suddenly swoops in and knocks some of them out.

"What the?!? Who are you?" You literally were shocked under your mask.

"I'm Batman," The figure speaks, "Now help me."

After being shocked for a solid 30 seconds, you then help the Dark Knight himself, knockout about a total of 335 goons.

Before knocking out the last goon, you hold him by his shirt, "Who hired you?"

The Batman was watching from the distance. Who were you? Why were you helping? He didn't need your help.

"Please!! I was just doing my job don't hurt me!!" The figure was scared, your grip tightened just a tad, "Okay, okay!! Lex Luther and the Riddler teamed up for this!! Lex Luther wanted important information that was held here but The Riddler just wanted distraction and disturbance!!"

You don't knock this goon up, but you tie him down so he can't move.

"Your job is done , I got Lex Luther and The Riddler." The Batman spoke.

"I'm sorry but I think you are going to need my help." You speak while crossing your arms.

"I work alone." The Dark Knight answers.

"Not today."

It was obvious you weren't going to let The Batman take down the two villains alone. However you didn't even have to track them down as you hear two voices behind you two.

"Dammit Riddler! You failed me!!" The bald one spoke.

"I didn't know The stupid Bat and that thing would be there! It isn't my fault." The one wearing a hideous green color spoke.

You put it together to figure out who was who, but you didn't act and neither did the Batman for the two were sitting there arguing for a bit about how the Riddler should have planned for Batman.

While the two were distracted, you were the one to make the first move by kicking The Riddler in his groin area. That had to hurt!! Your wearing a metal suit. Which means by that, he was already down, clutching that area miserably. As you tied him up , you watched The Batman fight Lex Luther with hand-to-hand combat.

You watch as The Batman has such agility, making him able to dodge, and such strength, making him able to land powerful hits on Luther.

You can't help but to wonder to yourself; Who is The Batman?

You can't help but to realize how similar that dark voice is to ugly (handsome) , disgusting (mouthwatering), Bruce Wayne's voice.

Lost in your thoughts, you hadn't realized Luther was knocked out and restrained. You look up at The Batman and speak,

"So you're The Batman?" You ask. He nods subtlety but enough for you to notice. "I'm Iron-Sib. Nice working with you."

That's all you say before flying off to that alley and taking off your suit before returning to the crowd of innocent people, acting like you were there the whole time.

That was until you hear that billionaire, Bruce Wayne's voice behind you, "Someone looks disheveled."

"As if the Gala, didn't just get ruined." You say.

"No, you're too calm."

"So are you." You squint.

He had the smallest smile on his face, "Want to grab some dinner since this was ruined?"

You stare at him for a moment. You guys hated each other's guts because of your companies. But now he is asking you for dinner.

"Of course..." You smile, "Bat." That last part was barely audible, but he heard you , which confirmed your suspicions about each other. You were Iron-Sib and he was The Batman. What a start of a beautiful romance.

[kalki-tarot]

Your first Kiss with them 🎧🍷💕

Pick a picture, my beautiful souls ♡

Pictures are taken from Pinterest.

This may not resonate with everyone. I'll use tarot and my own intuition so take what resonates and leave the rest. Don't force anything and this is just for entertainment purposes. This reading will be very specific </3

Do not steal/copy my work. Strict action(s) would be taken against you.

More pick a pile readings !

Pile 1

Death, the devil, 7 swords, 10 pentacles, the sun, ace of swords, 9 wands, 4 pentacles, queen of swords (bottom of deck)

TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️

Right off the bat, pile 1. I sense you fear intimacy or being close with anyone in general. Maybe due to past experiences? Someone maybe forced you in the past or took advantage of you. I'm really sorry if that happened to you. So, now you've developed a fear of getting so close or vulnerable with anyone.

Pile 2 also has messages for you.

Your first kiss will happen after you've let go of certain fears. You may hesitate at first, but of course, it'll happen with your consent. You may get flashes of the past but you'll stand strong and let them kiss you or vice versa. This kiss will mark a new beginning as it'll signify the fears finally leaving your soul & mind.

The kiss will feel soft and fresh, like a warm summer breeze. It'll make you both happy. You'll feel content and comfortable while it happens. You will feel as you're in your power, finally. The kiss will be smooth. It can happen during the day or under the sunlight. I'm even getting a beach for some of you. It'll be overall fantastic as per your choice.

Reblog this post to claim it!

Pile 2

Death rx, page of cups, the star, 9 wands, 2 swords, six of cups, the world, 10 swords rx (bottom of deck)

This feels like a fantasy! The kiss will happen just like the way you imagine it lol. Statight outta your dreams. It'll be wet and sloppy, can use lots of tounge play(?) Idk guys I'm not experienced in these kinda things 💀😭 but It'll definitely give you butterflies in the stomach.

This will be memorable kiss, even after some years you'll still remember every bit of the detail and be nostalgic about it. This can happen outside or even at a place that's far away from your home. Like while traveling or something?

You may be combating an inevitable change while this happens. Like there's a message for you to change, change the way you've been doing things all the time. Change the way you think. Don't resist change.

Let's come back to the moment of yours, the kiss will be very romantic and emotional . A little bit playful also. I'm getting biting the lips and teasing a lot. This feels like a long kiss. This will take place at a place where there aren't many people around.

It will help you release negative thoughts and feelings you've been holding all this time. So good luck with that!

Reblog this post to claim it!

Pile 3

10 cups, strength, 9 wands, the fool, 4 swords, 5 swords, page of pentacles, 2 of wands.

Cute! Your first kiss may take place in a garden or a forest where you went to travel or camp or smth. I feel like the kiss will be initiated by the feminine energy in the connection. The kiss will make you feel young and vibrant. Your heart will race a lot. It may happen on a risky place like in the public or where someone can watch or catch you.

But the feelings would be so intense and magical. You'll be drawn towards eachother like magnets. I see a height difference between you guys.

You may have a fight before this happens, and suddenly the overwhelming feelings take over and you guys kiss. You both will literally surrender yourselves to one another. Very intimate and passionate energy.

This moment will be shocking or unexpected but you'll definitely like it!

Reblog this post to claim it!

[jasmines-library]

Catch me If I fall

WHUMPTOBER DAY 12: prompt: self harm

Fandom: Batfam

Summary: after the death of Jason, you can’t help but feel guilty, so you resort to some unhealthy coping methods.

Warnings: SELF HARM, blood, character death, depressive thoughts.

Word count: 1.3k

Note: this one is extremely sensitive and contains many trigger warnings, please read at your own discretion.

Remember, If you are ever struggling, please don’t be ashamed to reach out. My DMs are always open, or you can seek one of many helplines. Please remember, you are not alone and there are people who will help you navigate your thoughts and feelings. You are strong, you are loved, you are perfect.

M ASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

He was gone.

Jason Todd was gone. Dead. Killed in an explosion that would forever be burned into the front of your brain. The sound replayed itself over and over again in your mind; the shattering of the glass and the groaning of the metal frames as they collapsed in on eachother, the deafening booming of the explosive and the scuffing of your feet on the concrete as you stopped dead in your tracks, too far away to help and too late to reach him in time.

At first, the tears refused to fall from your cheeks as you surged forwards racing towards where the warehouse once stood. You arrived at the wreckage at the same time as the Bat. When he pulled Jason’s body from the wreckage, limp with eyes devoid of life, the tears still refused to fall. You just watched blankly as he held his son, trying not to focus on the mangled, blood covered flesh that covered every inch of his skin. Even in death Jason looked pained, his face permanently contorted into an unseeing gaze of pain.

Returning back to the manor and breaking the news to Dick was even harder. You watched as he flung the nearest thing across the room and let it shatter on the floor. You picked the skin around your fingers as he sunk down onto the floor and broke down, tears cascading down his face. Fat and hot like heavy droplets of rain falling from the sky. But still, your own stubbornly refused to fall.

It was only hours later when you had locked yourself away in your room that you let out a shrill cry of anguish, falling to the floor. Heavy sobs wracked your body as you trembled digging your nails into palms and biting down harshly on the inside of your cheeks, You blinked away your tears the fell freely, squeezing them from your eyes as you squeezed them tight, trying to shut out the constant memory of Jason Todd.

It was then that the thoughts came flooding to you. Obnoxious, penetrating thoughts that hit you like a ton of bricks. You should have gotten there quicker. If you had just stuck with Jason or forced him to keep his comms on then. It was your fault that he had gone off on his own. It was your fault that Jason Todd was dead.

Your suit was damp with tears and clung too close to your body. You felt suffocated. As you began to push off your boots, your bowie knife that you usually kept tucked away for emergencies clattered to the ground, You froze. It was the one that you had been given when you began your vigilante training with Bruce all those years ago. You picked it up, flipping the leather-bound hand between your palms and admiring the way that the metal glinted as it caught the light.

Some sane part of your body screamed at you not to do it. That it was wrong, that your family would be disappointed if they found out. But the other overpowering side still echoed with those thoughts. You couldn’t help but sink deeper into the guilt. And so you brought the knife down to your flesh, barely recognising the pain as the red ribbons formed on your skin.

~

That feeling of guilt never went away. It still sat there like a heavy weight even after Jason returned 6 months later. Although Jay was back, he was changed. Haunted by his own memories, he struggled to re-adjust to his life especially after the memories of his brutal murder flooded back to him. It took him a while to come to terms with his safety. It was only once the two of you had spent many nights clinging on to each other and giving reassurances that he finally allowed himself to relax slightly.

But the boy’s return didn’t just affect him. The sudden shift had troubled all of you, flipping your lives which you had slowly managed to learn to navigate without him upside down.

You began to retreat into your room again, spending more time alone. You slunk around the manor, avoiding the others when possible. It was something that didn’t go unnoticed by Dick who often lingered by your door, but was too afraid to knock or barge his way in. Opting to give you space. The space never helped though. It just became a void of guilt and constant reminders of your sluggishness. Although the image of Jason’s frail body never quite left your mind, his return brought it back stronger. It began to plague your nightmares again, causing you to wake up in a cold sweat. It caused the silence to morph into muffled cries and with that came the return of old habits.

Trailing your finger over the lines of scar tissue, your body felt numb. Silent, you left yourself with the stickiness of hot tears trailing down your face; each one a reminder of your failures. Of the times that you weren’t perfect enough to save everybody. The knife ran sharply across your skin, allowing the blood to bead as it trailed. The stinging allowed a sense of relief for a while. That was until it didn’t. After that, you turned to pressing deeper into your complexion, allowing the blood to dribble from your arm.

~

Dick lingered in front of your door once again. He hadn’t seen you all day and had begun to grow worried. Deep creases lined his brow as he stood, shut out from you by the painted wood. He knew you hadn’t been in the best of places since his little brother had been ripped so cruelly from the world. Dick hated watching you retreat. He loathed that sad look and far away gaze that settled on your face when he thought no one was looking. His hand was hovering as he prepared to knock when he noticed his younger brother waltz around the corner. Jason slowed furrowing his brows.

“What are you doing?” He quizzed. Though not oblivious to your struggle, he didn’t believe in getting involved in someone else’s business. Especially when he was still trying to short his own shit out.

Dick only said one word which sent the two men into a preganant silence. “Listen.”

Your sobs and outbursts of frustration could be heard from the other side of the door frame. The younger of the two recoiled at the noise. Dicks hand moved towards the door handle after knocking and being blanked.

The door shuddered open and Dick poked his head around the corner. He froze, heart dropping to his feet when he took you in.

Your knees were pulled tightly to your chest, where your head rested grimly. Your wrists were a bloody mess like the knife which lay a few feet away from you. You half-nursed them carefully, as though you knew something about them was off, but you couldn’t get yourself to care enough about it.

“Oh god…”

He took cautious, but long strides steps to get to you before taking your arms in his, not caring abou there stickiness that coated his clothes and spilled down his fingers. There was so much of it he was surprised it still fell from your body.

You tried not to acknowledge him in away, but once your lifted your head and spotted his face, the tears began again. Dick pulled you into a height embrace as the tears began to fall again

“I-I’m sorry.” You stumbled, “I..”

“Shh.” Dick coaxed, pulling you into his arms: “nothing is your fault.”

“But I- Jason. I wasn’t fast enough.”

“Oh little bat…” Jason squatted down by his brother. “There’s nothing you could have done about that.”

“Yes there is. I could have convinced you to-“

“Stop it.”

“I’m sorry.” You murmured. “I’m sorry but they won’t leave. Make them leave please.

“We will baby bat. We will.

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY 11 ⛤ DAY 13 ->

🏷️ Taglist:

@senjoritanana

@deans-spinster-witch

@amaryllis23

[whaledenwtf]

Halsin x Druid!Reader - The Forest's Calling

I'm currently HYPERFIXATING on Baldur's Gate 3. This is my love letter to Mount Halsin, the elf I would climb until my limbs fell off. You're welcome (or I'm sorry). Cross-posted on AO3 here: Link Enjoy!

Warnings: afab!reader and Male Smut, Dom/Sub Dynamic, Breeding Kink, Creampie, Choking, Oral (Female and Male Receiving), Kinky DRUID Forest Sex, Misuse of the Entangle Cantrip (hehe), Size Difference

I tried to keep Halsin in character as much as possible, but there is a significant change when y'all get funky

WORD COUNT: 4691

Nature calls to you, as it always had. The sounds of the forest have always been your favourite. Silvanus' creations had made you feel complete. The moss between your toes, and the swaying of trees; you had never felt so much peace during such perilous times. It's at times like this you are gracious for your god's teachings; nature is chaotic as it is gentle, and things will sort them out- if that is what is determined. This is how you kept such a level head during this adventure. Some of your companions saw your level-headedness as worrisome, but you always remind them that to persevere is in the forest's nature, and so it is in yours.

No good ever came from stressing over obstacles in your life.

"If you could stop thinking about the grass for five seconds, I'd appreciate you listening to me. Tch- tree huggers." Astarion tells you annoyed. You look into his crimson eyes and smirk.

"This tree hugger is your key to freedom. Unless you forgot about the tadpole in your brain." Astarion's eyes widen, before he smirks.

"Keep talking dirty, sweetheart. Might not resist taking a bite~" You chuckle.

"Settle down. Like I told you beforehand, we must seek out the Archdruid Halsin before we continue our journey. Nobody could come close to him in terms of knowledge-" Lae'zel rolls her eyes.

"Nobody could come close to the information about the ghaik than us githyanki. You istik entertain such useless ideas." You roll your eyes at her. Before you could speak up, Shadowheart speaks to the githyanki.

"Yes. I'm sure your barbaric race would know much more." She says sarcastically. "I, on the other hand, would much rather any other option besides yours." Before Lae'zel could fight back, Karlach speaks to them both.

"Shut the fuck up and kiss already. Wasting time when we could be slaying goblins and getting closer to being free. Stop fucking around and listen to (Y/N)." You nod your head in appreciation to the tiefling.

"Besides, even if Archdruid Halsin does not know how to help us, he may offer his services regardless. Leaving him with the goblins is a fate worse than death. His ally-ship will be indispensable." This appeases those in the group who were unsure of your leadership.

"Always the cunning one, aren't you sweetheart." Astarion speaks up. You turn your head and wink.

"Let's push forward and assist in any way we can." Wyll speaks up. Gale nods, looking over our group.

"Let's be smart and proactive, we do not want to lose eachother, nor do we want to get caught. We shall stay in hiding for as long as possible. Stealth is the best way forward with our little information we have." Astarion taps your chin.

"I like you like this." You smirk at him before leading the group to the Goblin Camp.

After killing every goblin in the vicinity, you all venture forward to a cage where a bear is roaming.

"A bear. He was probably going to be goblin fodder." Astarion says, smirking.

"Hush. Poor thing was being attacked by these goblins." Karlach speaks to him, bumping her shoulder into Astarions. He gasps, the wind being knocked out of him.

"Careful. I bruise like a peach!" He tells her angrily. She chuckles.

"And you're just as bitter as a rotten tomato-" Astarion bristles. You cut him off.

"Settle down, girls. We have time for play later. Show some respect. That bear is our charge." You unlock the iron gate before walking in alone.

"I don't think that's a good idea-" Gale says worriedly, but you shush him. When the bear makes eye contact with you, you see the gold swirling in his eyes. His mouth opens to show his sharp teeth, a warning.

You bow down infront of the bear, laying a hand out towards his snout.

"Are you sure that's... wise, sweetheart?" Astarion asks, concerned. You ignore him before speaking.

"Archdruid Halsin, it is my absolute honour to stand before you. We have come here to free you from your imprisonment and bring you back to the Emerald Grove. May Silvanus preserve us." Without a beat, the bear transforms into a tall, handsome, elf. Your eyes widen at his stature, but more at his beauty.

"Ah, a fellow druid. Silvanus has certainly looked upon me in favour. Thank you for assisting me." You realize you are still kneeling, at crotch level with the Archdruid. Your eyes flicker to his pelvis, and eyes widen at what you see. You rise to your full height, which makes you eye level with his chest. Your head tilts to look into his eyes, and notice him watching you, with a small smirk. He saw you gazing at him, how embarrassing.

"Of course, Archdruid Halsin." He shakes his head softly, braids swaying with the movement.

"Please, call me Halsin. My savior shouldn't have to call me by such a title." You nod, before looking over your shoulder at your companions. They are all looking at the tall elf in shock.

"He just- he just turned into a man!" Astarion says out loud. You chuckle.

"Yes. My preferred wild shape is a bear." He responds to the shorter elf, not looking away from you, glancing over you in curiousity. You turn back to look at him. Your eyes stay locked while you speak to your party.

"Let us leave. We will bring Halsin back to the Emerald Grove and then we can rest. I want to wash off this gods-awful goblin blood before it stains my armour." Everyone nods at that. They turn to walk out, ready to escort Halsin back. You follow your group, Gale and Wyll leading you all forward.

"Thank you, little flower. I truly appreciate you aiding me." Halsin whispers to you, matching your strides behind the group. Little flower... the nickname made you giddy. You blush softly, the heat reaching to the peaks of your ears.

"I can't leave a fellow druid behind. Especially with what those goblins were doing to you." You shake your head, looking over him and the dried blood that caked him from his wild shape form. He chuckles at your worried gaze.

"Nonetheless, the Oakfather has blessed me with your assistance. I am indebted to you for life." You turn to look at him, his easy smile and warm eyes making you feel something... magical.

"The Oakfather has blessed us many times anew. The air we breathe, the ground we walk upon, the forests. But alas, I did come to release you because we need your assistance-" His eyes widen lightly, before he looks down at you.

"What do you need, little flower?" The way he speaks to you is soft, unconcerned of the questions you will ask him. His caring nature speaks to the softest parts of you.

"I will ask you once we bring you to the Emerald Grove. However, I must warn you-" You stop walking and grab his arm. Holy hells his arms are buff. You must have paused for a moment too long.

"What is wrong?" You shake your head at your own thoughts. You're acting like a toddler, instead of the adult elf you are.

"At the Emerald Grove... Kagha is planning to do the Rite of Thorns, and is releasing all the Tiefling refugees..." Halsin's eyes almost bug out of his head.

"We must stop them! That rite does more harm than good! Those Tieflings... fleeing towards death. It is not right!" You tell him passionately. He takes your hand from off his arm and grips it in both his large hands.

" We will stop them, little one." You nod. He continues to hold your hand.

"The shadow curse has been on my mind for so long, I cannot believe I trusted such a-" He shakes his head, cutting himself off.

"We will continue our trek and once we stop the rite, I will tell you all you need to know." You bite your lip.

"If I could help carry your burdens, I would." He chuckles, a light blush appearing on the apples of his cheeks.

"I'm sure you would, little flower. Now, let us continue our journey. I appreciate you warning me." He lets go of your hand and waves his hand out, gesturing you to go forward, so you do. You can't help the chill that you feel when his hands release yours.

After stopping the rite, you did speak to Halsin about the tadpoles. He sighs when he says he cannot heal you of your affliction. A shiver of fear goes through your body. If someone as knowledgeable with healing like Halsin cannot heal you, you cannot imagine how to move forward. Its then that he tells you that the Shadow-Cursed Lands may be the key to assisting you in your journey. You bite your lip worriedly.

"I will continue to assist you. I will follow your party and do what I can. Not only for the cursed lands, but also for you." He says it with such conviction, such passion, you cannot help but feel safe and warmed from his sentiments.

"I feel indebted to you Halsin. Truly." He shakes his head.

"You will be helping me much more than I, you." You smile up at him. He cannot help but be captured by the radiance of your smile. Oakfather preserve him, you are the most beautiful of his creations.

"I will help you with this shadow curse. Take back nature and restore balance. I just hope I don't grow any tentacles in that time." You say humourlessly, your laugh hollow. He grabs your chin with his hand, his thumb stroking the side of your face.

"I promise on all of the Oakfather's creations, I will not let anything happen to you." Your eyes flutter, and you glance down at his lips before looking back into his eyes.

"Thank you." You whisper to him. His attention is taken elsewhere, and his hand caresses down your neck before releasing you, and moving to the Tiefling asking for him.

You feel this feral need to have him, to help him. You're attracted to him, and you can tell this will be problematic. Oakfather preserve you.

That night, the Tieflings throw a party for you all. The music is loud, and you can see them enjoying themselves. You look over your companions and see all of them enjoying themselves; albeit in their own ways. While looking over the festivities, you see Halsin standing away, gazing over the festivities and people watching. Your eyes make contact and you blush.

"This wine tastes like goblin piss." Astarion tells you, gagging on the swig he just took. You chuckle at him, breaking eye contact with the handsome druid to look over at the vampire.

"Not your type of red drink?" You ask him flirtedly. He smirks at you and leans into you.

"No, sweetheart. My type of red is standing right next to me, as radiant as ever." His face gets close to your neck and he sniffs you deeply.

"All of a sudden, I am thirsting for something else." He tells you. You chuckle at his advances.

"Are you now?" You flirt back. He smirks down at you.

"You're much more fun to speak to like this, sweetheart. I can't help but want a taste." You giggle at him, before taking the wine from his hand and taking a couple mouthfuls.

"Oh gods it does taste like goblin's piss." You splutter out. He laughs at your turmoil.

"Oh darling, you make me laugh." He tells you. You grin at him.

"Glad my misfortunes bring you joy." He smiles at you, sharp teeth glinting in the campfire's light.

"Mm. The only thing that would bring me more joy in this moment is having a taste of you." His voice lowers to a whisper. You roll your eyes.

"Easy there. If I didn't know you better I'd say you're a bard, singing my praises so I could follow you to your tent for the night." You push his chest gently.

"I'm sure I can make you sing, sweetheart." He tells you, looking at you with a smirk.

"As much fun as we would have, I think you've had enough to drink." You tell him jokingly, waving the bottle of wine in his face. You take another swig, and swallow down the bitterness. You go to walk forward, the alcohol driving you to your destination; Halsin.

"Ah, my little flower! It seems you were having fun." Halsin tells you, smile on his face. The crease between his brows tells you that he'd much rather had been the one sniffing your neck, rather than Astarion. You feel a rush of confidence surge through you, aided by the alcohol in your system.

"I decided to turn my attentions elsewhere." You tell him confidently. He smirks at your words.

"Is that so? Well, I am honoured to have such attentions on me." He tells you in a whisper. You almost whimper at his words, feeling hot. You feel as though molten lava has replaced the blood in your veins, and the heat is centralized at the apex of your thighs. You rub them lightly, which catches the elder druid's attention.

"You could have much more than attentions on you tonight, Master Halsin." Your voice lowers to a whisper, and the effect is immediate. His eyes shine golden and his smile becomes wider, more primal. Just like in the Goblin Camp, it was a warning.

"Is that so, little flower? Are you offering yourself to me?" He asks you gently, taking a step forward. You are now flush with his body, and the carvings on his undershirt graze the peaks of your breasts deliciously, hardening them. You moan quietly, looking up at the gargantuan man through your eyelids.

"I'd like to explore you, Master Halsin. See if those rumours of your... generosity are true." You feel his arm wrap around your waist, his hand resting at the small of your back. His fingers seem to tighten, digging softly into your skin.

"You seem to enjoy calling me by my honourifics." You hum, smirking at him.

"I'm just calling you by title. You would like to be my master, would you not?" He growls lowly, much like a bear would.

"You're playing a dangerous game, little one." He tells you huskily. You giggle at him.

"The only games I would like to play are with you, Master." In his eyes you can see him having an inner battle. You take the hand on your waist in yours, which snaps him out of his inner turmoil. The alcohol is rushing through you now, your (very little) inhibitions non-existent now. You pull it closer to your face, before taking a thick finger in your mouth and worshipping it. You kiss at the pad of his forefinger before licking it; inevitably taking it into your mouth and sucking on it softly. He watches you entranced, groaning softly as you let go of his finger with a pop. You take his hand in yours, and pull him towards the edge of the camp, leading to the forest. Once you find the small grove in the forest, you let go of his hand, spinning in place and enjoying the silence of nature. He stays at the edge of the tree line, watching you with sharp eyes.

"Little flower-" Halsin says softly. You turn to look at the man with a smile.

"Our worries are for dawn. With the moonlight shining on us, and the trees as our witness, I would like to show you the pleasures of the flesh, as nature intended." He groans loudly now, far enough from the camp that your voices would not carry.

"I'm afraid to lose myself. The beast-" You pull off your nightshirt, exposing your breasts in the moonlight. You then pull off your pants and undergarments in one shot, fully baring yourself to his sight. He inhales deeply, eyes looking at you up and down multiple times. You begin to to dance sensually, your hips seeming to beckon him forward. He takes a couple of uncertain steps.

"Halsin. I am not one so easily afraid of beasts. Let me help you forget your woes for a night." His resolve seems to crumble, and he runs to you, leaving you both chest to chest.

"Little flower, I will devour you-" You moan, pulling his hair to bring him to your lips. His chapped lips touch yours, and it feels as if there is magic flowing through your bodies. His hands find purchase under your thighs, lifting you up into him. Your legs wrap around his waist, and you moan into his mouth. His tongue prods at the seam of your lips, persuading you to open your mouth to his. Your tongues find each other, and a battle of dominance begins. You lose easily, his gifted tongue prodding and licking at yours with wanton need. You release each other to inhale deeply. He inhales from his nose and groans.

"I can smell your need, little one." You whimper, looking into his eyes.

"You're overdressed, Master Halsin. Allow me to undress you." He lets you down out of his embrace, and you begin to untuck his sleepshirt out from his pants and over his head. You begin to untie his pants, helping him out of them as well. That's when you notice he is wearing no undergarments, and his cock is thick and long, closer to the length of your forearm. You whimper, falling to your knees and looking up at him.

"You don't need to please me-" You cut him off.

"I want your cock to hit the back of my throat until I am unable to speak." He moans loudly, before your hand grasps him at the shaft.

"The Oakfather blessed me with such a giving partner. I- Oh Silvanus-" You take him in your mouth, licking at the tip. You taste his musk, and he tastes like pine and mint, and something that makes you absolutely feral. Without a care for your own wellbeing, you try to swallow him whole, his tip hitting the back of your throat, and then some. He groans, eyes closing as one hand finding itself locked in your hair and the other forming a fist at his thigh.

"That's right little druid, take Master's cock into the back of your throat." His voice goes down an octave, and you feel a rush of slick leave you. Taking him out of your mouth, you kiss the shaft downward until you take his heavy balls in your mouth and suckle. You're panting with need, moaning into his skin. You let go of him, one hand stroking his cock and the other inching down your body to touch your cunt. He looks down at you then with hooded eyes, and moans again.

"Are you touching your needy cunt, little flower? I cannot wait to fill you with my seed until your entire being is satiated." You moan, needing him back in your mouth. You remove the hand on his shaft and deepthroat him again, only getting two thirds of his member into your mouth. You hear your need, the wet sounds coming from your pussy only arousing you further. He begins to thrust into your mouth and you choke on him. After making sure you were alright, he continues his movements, thrusts getting rougher. The hand in your hair tightens and pulls you off his cock, as he growls.

"I will pound your quim until you are unable to walk without my healing, little one." His hands grip your upper arms and lifts you up to stand. Your face is smeared with his precum and your spittle. Once you are stable on your two feet, he kisses you passionately and you moan into him. His hands are touching you everywhere. His touch is searing hot. His hands find themselves at your breasts, rubbing and pinching the peaks of them.

"O-Oh Halsin. Don't stop." He chuckles into your ear.

"I'm not planning to stop until dawn shows itself." You whimper at his words, thrusting your chest deeper into his ministrations. You hear Halsin whisper before your hands are being pulled behind you, tightly grasped. Your feet are also held up, spreading your legs open. You notice that vines grew from the ground and are holding you up like a platter to Halsin.

"As much as I love your touch, little one, I don't want you to push me off when I get a taste of your ambrosia." You moan loudly, almost caterwauling for the elder druid.

His large hands caress up your leg, massaging the skin of your calves, before going higher.

"I wish you could see yourself as I do in this moment, little flower. You're exquisite; truly one of Silvanus' greatest creations." You blush, heaving.

"H-Halsin, please-" He chuckles at your enthusiasm.

"Don't fret, you will be chanting my name soon enough." His confidence is addicting, you could feel how drenched you were even with your legs spread so far apart. His hands finally reach close to your core, and he spreads your slit further open to look at you. You could feel your hole contracting, as if begging for an intrusion.

"By the gods... Look at your tight cunt begging for my cock. Can't wait to have a taste." You feel his breath on you. You look down and see him watching you, as his hands slide up to your breasts to play with your nipples like he had before. The first stroke of his tongue on your clit sent a sensation of pleasure up your spine. You struggle against your bonds, with an insatiable urge to grasp his hair and tug him deeper into you.

His tongue then ventures lower, tasting your essence. He moans loudly into your body, the vibrations of his moan pleasing you greatly. He continues licking you, tasting you as he tweaks your nipples, tugging before massaging. You felt powerless against the bonds, barely hearing anything more than the rush of blood in your ears.

"Your nectar... is just like honey. I can't wait to have you cum on my tongue multiple times." You moan. You can tell you're already close to your precipice, his words, moans and tongue vibrating and licking against your clit deliciously.

"Please... please Master Halsin-" He groans at the honourific. He plunges his tongue into you, lapping you at your source. His nose nudges your clit and that sets off your orgasm. You feel yourself leak onto him, his tongue cleaning your mess. You're shaking with oversensitivity, but he does not stop. One of the hands on your breast caress back down the length of your body, before he pulls away from your core. He grins up at you as he thrusts two of his thick fingers into you. He curls them, as you begin to shake harder.

"That's it, little one. Let all those in the forest know who is making you feel like this, making you cum and feel pleasure-" His words go straight to your core, and more of your slick leaks around his fingers.

"Halsin-H-Halsin- Oh GODS-" His lips wrap around your clit, sucking and licking at you. The attention was too much; you cum again. This time, you can feel much more than slick leave your body- did I squirt? You wonder to yourself, as your body is now lashing against the constraints. You didn't have much time to think about it, as he pulls his fingers out to taste you, moaning. You look down at him, panting. He spreads you open again, this time with both hands, before his tongue is back in you, tasting you like you were water and he was a man dehydrated. You whimper, begging him to give you reprieve. He pulls off of you, his mouth and chin covered in your release. He was panting, his eyes glowing a bright amber.

"You have no idea what you unleashed, little one." He growls out. You feel the vines dissipate. You're laid on the forest ground gently. Before he could move, you flip yourself over with enthusiasm, laying your upper body parallel to the floor and your lower body in the air. You wiggle your ass, one of your hands going between your legs and spreading yourself open. You look over your shoulder and look him directly in the eye. He is watching you with wonder, before you speak.

"Breed me, Master Halsin. Empty your seed in me and fuck me into a stupor." He growls, before kneeling behind you.

"I'll make sure you can't walk for weeks, little one. I'll spread you nice and good." You feel the tip of his cock at your entrance. He rubs himself up and down your slit, gathering your juices.

"Look how wet you are. Such a good little druid for me." You whimper at his words. Without warning he thrust into you, going to the hilt. His heavy balls hit against your clit, and your mouth goes open in a silent scream. He begins a brutal pace, pounding into you. One of his hands reach around your body, his large hand grasping your neck. His hold is tight, but not painfully so. You feel lightheaded, all your senses being overwhelmed by the Archdruid. You feel as though your floating, the only thing tying you to this plane of existence is the continuous thrusts from the elf behind you. You felt as though you were split open repeatedly, his cock reaching places in you that you were unsure existed before today. He growls as he pounds into you, and you begin to feel claws against your neck, before they retract.

"You make me feral, little one. I'm gonna fill you with my seed, fill you with pups." You moan, breathless. His thrusts begin to falter, but they seem to go deeper. You feel yourself fluttering around him, as you gasp.

"I-I'm close." You whisper to him. He groans.

"I feel you fluttering around me, little one." He chokes out. After a handful of thrusts he cums with a shout, and you constrict around him, cumming once more. You feel his seed in you, so abundant that it leaks out around him. You both pant for a couple seconds. He releases your neck and you gasp an inhale.

"Did I hurt you?" He asks you softly. You shake your head enthusiastically.

"N-no. Oh gods Halsin. I am unsure how I will walk right ever again." You tell him breathlessly. He chuckles at that, caressing your back and thighs with gentleness. You feel him slowly pull out of you, taking care to not punish your core anymore. You whimper at the loss, feeling your mixed spend leaking out of you. He flips you over softly, wanting to look you over. His hand goes to finger you lazily. You shriek, body seizing up.

"Not a drop goes to waste." He tells you huskily. After a couple moments, he pulls his fingers out too, and directs them to your mouth. You suckle on the digits, the taste arousing you once more. You both look into each other's eyes as you did this. Once he removes his fingers from your mouth, his lips replace it, tasting both of you on his tongue. He groans into your lips. You kiss for a couple moments, before you both need to separate so you could inhale. You felt utterly spent. He goes to lie down next to you, and your eyes follow him.

His hands begin to massage your sore muscles, before pulling you onto him. You felt utterly spent. He holds you into a lover's embrace and you can't help but sigh into his chest, caressing his pectorals and cuddling into him. You feel his lips on the crown of your head, leaving a trail soft pecks and kisses. You both lay there, absorbing the beauty of nature and speaking about your lives before the parasite and the shadow curse until the sun rose.

END