#v; the weight of darkness is heavy on my soul

[yuutaok]

⊹ ‧₊˚✿ Spring Leaves, But I Never Will

Yuuta Okkotsu x Reader

In the eerie mountain forest, you seek to find what is missing. Lost and disoriented, you encounter a mysterious boy with eyes like the dead, his presence is captivating. With a gentle hand, he beckons you, and you follow.

⊹ ‧₊˚✿ Word Count: ~4.4K

⊹ ‧₊˚✿ Content Warnings: 18+ MDNI (Minors Do Not Interact), P in V, AFAB! Reader, prone bone, unprotected sex, creampies, posessiveness, supernatural/paranormal stuff happens, open-ended ending, Reader is lost in a forest and meets Yuuta, Yuuta is a freak

⊹ ‧₊˚✿ Author's note: Hiii I am back with a vengeance. Belated birthday fic for Yuuta ♡ Life exploded me so I never got the chance to finish until now. Also, I would like to thank Sen (@/ banjjakz) for inspiring some of the horror aspects of this <3 They have such a lovely way of writing such mysterious horror that I deeply wanted to try my hand at, so please go read their Yuuta fics bc they are sooooo delicious ok I'll stop swooning now byeeeeee

Lost amidst the dense, foreboding forests of the mountains, you trudged forward, the fading sunlight casting long shadows across the winding trail. Your heart felt heavy with the weight of recent events, the memory of your painful breakup still fresh in your mind. It had only been a couple of days, of course your heart would still hurt and your hands would still shake. And still, the need to escape, to clear your head and find solace amidst the solitude of nature, had driven you to embark on this day-hike alone.

The townsfolk often whispered about this mountain as a haunt for the heartbroken.

And so, here you were.

The hike was pleasant. You took the time to leisurely look at every interesting formed rock or beautiful sprouting flower that you had stumbled upon. Spring had just begun and it felt nice to be in the calm serenity of nature. You took care to not stray too far from the beaten path but still found your way crunching through the trees to look at specimens that caught your eye. It was a great way to get your mind off of things, to forget about life for just a moment.

But now, as the sky darkened and the woods grew eerily silent around you, regret gnawed at the edges of your resolve. Perhaps venturing into the wilderness alone had been a mistake, a reckless act born of heartache. Panic tightened its grip on your chest as you realized that dusk was fast approaching, and you had yet to find your way back to civilization.

With each step you took through the dense undergrowth of the forest, the sense of urgency weighed heavy on your shoulders. Nervously, you glanced at the sky, watching as the sun dipped lower and lower, casting long shadows that danced ominously through the trees. Hope flickered like a dying flame within you, faltering as the daylight waned faster than anticipated.

Your mind wandered to the rumors that had long circulated about the mountain, tales of heartbroken souls seeking solace among the towering trees, only to vanish without a trace.

It was said that the forest held secrets whispered confessions etched into the bark of the old oak trees, and love letters left behind by those who had come seeking solace from their pain. But these were not ordinary declarations of affection; they were haunting, twisted reflections of despair, each word filled with grief, obsession, and heartbreak. You have heard people say that love is the worst curse of all.

Some claimed to have heard mournful voices echoing through the woods, the ghostly whispers of lovers calling out into the darkness, their cries fading into gusts of wind and rustling leaves. Others spoke of strange symbols carved into the earth, cryptic messages left behind by those who had succumbed to the forest's embrace.

You still had decided to come, despite the unsubstantiated rumors that were whispered by the old grannies in the surrounding town. You’d be damned if you suffocated under the weight of your heartache. But as you delved deeper and deeper into the forest, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched— honestly, maybe the old ladies knew something you didn’t.

Panic clawed at the edges of your mind, threatening to consume you whole. Desperate, you called out into the silent woods, your voice echoing into the vast expanse of darkness that surrounded you, “Hello…? Is anybody out there? Can anyone hear me?”

But the only response was the feeling of eyes on the back of your head and the haunting whisper of the wind through the branches, carrying with it a sense of desolation that chilled you to the bone.

With each passing moment, the forest seemed to close in around you, its shadows stretching like grasping fingers eager to ensnare their prey. You were never quite fond of the dark.

Heart pounding, you broke into a run, stumbling through the underbrush in a frantic search for anything familiar. Each rustle of leaves and snap of twigs beneath your feet sent a jolt of fear coursing through your veins, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as you raced against the encroaching darkness.

And then, just as panic threatened to consume you whole, you burst through a thicket of bushes, only to collide with an unexpected figure standing in your path. The air left your lungs as you fell flat on your ass.

You looked up at what, or who, you had just crashed head-on into.

It was a boy, his dark eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity as he regarded you with an enigmatic smile, despite you just pummeling into him with your full force. The shock of the encounter left you speechless, frozen in place as the realization dawned that you were not alone in the woods after all.

You made eye contact with the stranger, and a chill swept through the air, sending a shiver down your spine. His dark hair fell in tousled waves, framing his pale face in an unsettling contrast. His tired eyes bore into you with an intensity that made your skin crawl. A curtain of bangs parted across his forehead, framing his features in a shadowy veil. His lips twisted into a smile and held a hint of something that lurked just beneath the surface.

There was an undeniable aura of unease that surrounded the boy, a sense of foreboding that lingered in the air like a haunting melody. As he extended a hand towards you, offering salvation in the darkness, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something deeply unsettling about him.

"Are you lost?" he asked, his voice low and soothing. "It's dangerous to be out here alone at night. I can lead you to safety."

You looked up at the stranger incredulously, as if you would be dumb enough to follow a stranger you met out in the woods!

Sending your apprehension, the raven-haired boy smiles kindly, “I promise, I don’t bite. Please, it’s getting late and I don’t think I could live with myself if I left you out here by yourself.”

Weighing out your options, you realized that maybe this was your best choice. It’s either that or freezing out in the woods, or better yet being eaten by some wild animal that you hardly can find yourself against.

You looked around, dazed. With darkness closing in around you and no other options in sight, you accepted his offer.

“Alright,” you sighed. “But please don’t try anything, I’ve been told I have a killer right hook.”

He looks at you, obviously amused, “Of course, I’ll be on my best behavior.”

And begrudgingly you had to admit, despite everything in your body screaming for you to keep running, you felt completely and utterly relieved to see him.

As you followed the raven-haired boy deeper into the woods, the sense of unease only intensified, wrapping around you like a suffocating cloak. "Where are we going?" you finally asked, your voice trembling slightly with apprehension.

His dark eyes flickered with an unreadable emotion as he turned to face you, his expression guarded yet strangely calm. "To my cabin," he replied, his voice low and steady. "It's not far from here. You'll be safe there for the night. You can rest for as long as you need to."

Though his words offered reassurance, there was a lingering doubt in the back of your mind. You had heard stories of people disappearing in these woods, never to be seen again, and the thought sent a chill down your spine.

There was something about the dark-haired man that unsettled you, something that whispered of hidden dangers lurking beneath his calm exterior. And even so, something about him drew you in, made you feel so immediately safe with him.

"Who are you?" you pressed, your voice wavering with a mix of fear and curiosity. "And why were you out here alone?"

Yuuta hesitated for a moment as if weighing his words carefully. "My name is Yuuta Okkotsu," he said finally, his gaze meeting yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. "I live in the woods, away from civilization. As for why I was out here...let's just say I have my reasons."

His cryptic response only fueled your apprehension, but as the darkness closed in around you and the sound of rustling leaves filled the air, you realized that you had little choice but to trust him, at least for now. With a nod of reluctant acceptance, you followed Yuuta deeper into the woods, praying that you had not just made a grave mistake.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

His cabin appeared suddenly, a rustic structure nestled amidst the towering trees, its windows glowing with the warm light of a fire within.

"I don't usually invite strangers into my home," Yuuta admitted, his gaze lingering on you with a mix of curiosity and something you couldn’t quite place your finger on. "But I can't leave you out here alone. You're welcome to stay until morning." Though grateful for his offer of shelter, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled over you like a shroud.

There was something about Yuuta's demeanor, a subtle intensity in his gaze, that sent shivers down your spine.

You stepped into Yuuta's cabin, grateful for the warmth and shelter it offered. The cozy interior enveloped you in a comforting embrace, dispelling some of the tension that had gripped you since your encounter in the woods. It was humorous actually, how warm the cabin felt in comparison to the uneasiness its owner gave you.

“Home sweet home,” Yuuta said as he took your coat and nodded his head for you to follow him.

Yuuta wasted no time in playing the role of a gracious host, offering you a change of clothes and access to his shower. His bathroom was neat, he didn’t have much, just the basics, but it was still appreciated nonetheless.

As the hot water washed away the dirt and grime of the forest, you felt a sense of relaxation seeping into your bones, soothing the frayed edges of your nerves.

Emerging from the shower feeling refreshed and revitalized. You found Yuuta busy in the kitchen, a delicious aroma of spices and savory delights wafting through the air.

As you peered over his shoulder, you caught a glimpse of the bubbling pot on the stove, filled with rich, fragrant curry. The sight stirred memories of comforting meals shared with loved ones, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia. "That smells amazing," you murmured, your mouth watering at the thought of indulging in the hearty dish.

Yuuta glanced up from his cooking, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "It's just a simple curry," he said modestly, though there was a hint of pride in his voice. "But I find that simple comforts are often the most satisfying."

You offered to help, eager to contribute to the meal in some way, but Yuuta shook his head gently. "No need to trouble yourself," he insisted, his gaze softening as he gestured for you to take a seat at the table. "Relax and settle down. I'll take care of everything."

Though you hesitated for a moment, the warmth of Yuuta's demeanor and the promise of a delicious meal were too enticing to resist. With a grateful smile, you sank into a chair, content to watch as Yuuta worked his culinary magic, the comforting rhythm of his movements lulling you into a sense of peace and contentment.

As you settled into Yuuta's cabin, you couldn't help but take in your surroundings with a sense of curiosity. The interior was simple yet cozy, with polished wooden floors that creaked softly underfoot and walls adorned with faded photographs and intricate tapestries.

The cabin had a rustic charm to it, its bare furnishings lending an air of simplicity to the space. Yet, despite its minimalistic design, everything seemed meticulously arranged, each item in its rightful place. There was a sense of order and precision that spoke to Yuuta's meticulous nature, a trait that you found oddly comforting.

On the shelves lining the walls, you noticed an eclectic array of books, their well-worn spines bearing the marks of countless readings. From classic literature to obscure texts on folklore and mysticism, the collection spoke of a curious mind.

Nearby, a shelf displayed a collection of handmade erasers, their vibrant colors and whimsical shapes. You couldn't help but smile at the sight of these charming little creatures. There was a sense of warmth and homeliness to Yuuta's cabin that made you feel strangely at ease. It was as if the space itself radiated a sense of comfort and belonging, welcoming you with open arms into its cozy embrace.

Before you knew it, the food was done and Yuuta served you a steaming plate.

“Thank you for the meal,” you said, nervous.

“It’s my pleasure,” Yuuta replied.

With the two of you sitting down to eat, you found yourself opening up to Yuuta in a way you hadn't expected. You told him about your recent breakup, the pain and heartache that had driven you to seek solace in the wilderness.

Yuuta listened attentively, his dark eyes reflecting a depth of understanding that surprised you. "It's dangerous to be out in the woods alone," he said softly, his voice tinged with a note of concern. "Who knows what evils could be lurking in the darkness? I'm glad I found you when I did." A chill ran down your spine.

Though he had shown you nothing but kindness, you couldn’t quite shake the feeling of anxiety that crept up around Yuuta's presence. He was good company, however, and you worked hard to ignore the way your hands clammed up and each hair on your skin stood up when he leaned in closer to speak with you. You chalked it up to your nerves.

The two of you continued to converse, him asking you more about your life and you asking about his. As Yuuta shared snippets of his past, you found yourself drawn to him in a way you couldn't quite explain. There was a sort of charm to him, an undeniable allure. Despite the lingering doubts that were dancing in the back of your mind, you couldn't deny the attraction you had towards him. You felt like a moth catching fire as it approached an open flame.

With a sigh, Yuuta leaned back against the cushions, his gaze drifting to the dancing flames of his fireplace as if lost in thought. "You know," he begins, his voice a low, melodic murmur that sends shivers down your spine, "I wasn't always a hermit living in the woods." His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken sorrow.

"What happened?" you ventured softly, your voice barely more than a whisper, to not disturb the mood.

Yuuta's gaze flickered to yours, a hint of sadness lurking in the depths of his dark eyes. "I used to live in the city, surrounded by noise and chaos," he admitted, his words tinged with bitterness. "But... I lost someone very dear to me." His voice trailed off, grief etched into the lines of his face.

"She was my childhood sweetheart," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper as if speaking the words aloud pains him. "We were inseparable, bound together by pure, untainted, love.”

A heavy silence fell between you, broken only by the crackling of the fire and the soft rustle of the wind outside. "She was taken from me," Yuuta murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "And I... I couldn't bear to stay in that world any longer."

As he spoke, you sensed the weight of his sorrow pressing down on him, a burden too heavy for one mere person to bear alone. "I tried to move on, to forget her and the pain of losing her," Yuuta admitted, his voice raw with emotion. "But no matter how hard I tried, I could never escape the memories of our time together."

“So I left," he confessed, "I left everything behind and retreated into the solitude of the forest, hoping to find something to fill the hole in my heart.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his sorrow, and you could not help but feel a surge of empathy for the man before you. At that moment, you realize that Yuuta and you are not so different after all, both haunted by heartbreak, seeking solace in the expanse of trees. In his eyes, you saw a reflection of your desires, a longing for connection and understanding.

But even as your heart yearned to unravel the secrets hidden within Yuuta’s dark and mangled heart, a sense of unease lingered at the edges of your consciousness. There was still something unsettling about the way the shadows seemed to dance around him, as if alive with an energy of their own. Something you couldn’t quite put your finger on…

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

As the night stretched on, the air thick with a palpable tension, you felt a strange sense of drowsiness wash over you. Your eyelids grew heavy with exhaustion as you let out a quiet yawn.

With a soft smile, Yuuta reached out to you. His was touch gentle, yet firm, possessive even. You felt yourself lean into his touch as if he weaved an invisible spell around you.

"You look tired," he murmured, his voice a soothing melody that seemed to echo with the whispers of the forest itself. "Come with me, let me take care of you."

His words washed over you like a warm embrace, dispelling the last glimmers of doubt and fear as you allow yourself to be guided by his steady hand. With a silent nod, you allowed Yuuta to lead you to the bedroom, the warmth of his presence enveloping you like a protective shield as you sank into the soft embrace of the bed.

The room was bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting shadows across the walls like dancing spirits. He leaned over you, his body flush against yours, his hand steady and reassuring against your skin.

As you lay there, the haze of drowsiness clouding your senses, you felt Yuuta begin to pull away. You grasped at the hem of his shirt, silently begging him not to go.

His features were veiled by the shroud of night, his smile, though unseen, seemed to materialize in the darkness. With a gentle pull, you drew him down to lay beside you.

"Do you want me to stay?" Yuuta's voice, a soft murmur, caressed your ear as his head nestled against your shoulder.

"Yes," you found yourself pleading, the words slipping from your lips in a whispered plea. "Don't leave."

Yuuta's lips brushed gently against your neck, his touch tender yet possessive. "I won’t,” he murmured, “I won’t ever leave,” his voice a velvet whisper that sent shivers down your spine. “I’ll keep you safe, I promise,”

In your sleepy state, you found yourself melting into his touch. Yuuta's kisses trailed a path of fire along your skin. Each kiss was a feather-light caress that seeped into each layer of your skin, burning you from the inside out.

Slowly, he moved up your neck, his lips leaving a trail of warmth in their wake as he explored every inch of your skin with adoration.

As Yuuta's lips found their way to your jaw, you felt yourself melting into his embrace, lost in the dizzying whirlwind that you now understood as Yuuta Okkotsu.

His movements were calm and deliberate, his touch gentle yet commanding as he explored every curve and contour of your body with dedicated devotion. Each touch left you yearning for more. You would die if it meant you could feel this loved forever.

Soon enough, Yuuta’s lips found yours, his kisses both tender and possessive, his passion evident in the way he claimed your lips.

As his lips danced with yours, you found yourself with the thought of never being apart from him. It filled you with a sense of completion. You could feel the depth of his devotion. Could he feel yours?

As if to answer your question, Yuuta’s touch became more urgent, his hands roaming over your body with a ravenous hunger. You felt happy that you could be consumed so ardently, that you found yourself secretly hoping that you at least tasted good.

Breaking out of your thoughts, you realized Yuuta was removing your borrowed clothes bit by bit. He made sure you were left in your panties.

His strong hands moved to caress your bare skin, his fingers leaving imprints on your body. Yuuta’s nails and grip dug into your skin as he kissed you. His hands moved to explore every curve and contour of your body with a reverence that bordered on worship. You wondered if he was trying to memorize every inch of you.

You leaned up to deepen the kiss, which only furthered Yuuta’s excitement. His lips moved hungrily against yours, his touch seeming eager, desperate, or perhaps so incredibly lonely, even.

Yuuta’s wet kisses left you dizzy, your senses were overwhelmed by him. Noticing the strain between his legs, you reached your hands down to unbutton his pants & paw at his boxers. Yuuta obliged by tossing them off to the side with your lost articles of clothing.

You moved to guide his hips to meet yours. With him between your legs, you moved to grind against him. You both gasped as his hard member pressed against your soaked panties.

You look up to see his reaction but notice something in Yuuta’s eyes become dark. His grip on your hips became tighter as his nails dug crescents into your soft skin.

Yuuta took this moment to grind himself deeper into you, his cock sliding between the lips of your pussy soaked panties. You let out a wanton moan, grinding back against him, desperate for any form of friction or release. You felt his cock rub against your swollen clit, moving back and forth in a way that left you crying out for more.

As Yuuta continued to tease you, he paused for a moment, his breath warm against your ear as he spoke in a low voice, "Do you want this?”

You shivered, a chill running down your spine.

With a hitched breath, you nodded.

“Will you be mine?" He asked, his eyes peering deep and dark into your own. You felt like he could see right into you like he was clawing his way into your soul to make a home in it.

You were okay with that.

You nodded again, “Yes, I’ll always be yours.”

With a glassy darkness in his eyes, he flipped you over onto your stomach, his movements rough and commanding as he positioned himself behind you. He tsk’ed as he ripped your ruined panties off, throwing off into the darkness of the room.

Well, you didn’t need those, anyway.

You could feel the heat of his breath against your ear as he whispered, “I’ll make it so you can’t ever think to leave,” sending shivers down your spine.

Yuuta trailed hot kisses along your skin as he positioned himself above you. With a low moan, he pressed himself against you, the throbbing hardness of his member seeking entrance to your dripping heat.

And then, with a thrust, he entered you. Yuuta’s hands gripped your ass as he slowly sunk his hard length into your wet core. You sucked in a breath, a wave of pleasure crashing over you as he filled your pussy completely. He was big. So much bigger than you anticipated.

‘We fit together perfectly’, you thought to yourself.

His pace was slow, with him getting used to the tightness of your cunt. You looked up at him with adoration as he leaned over your shoulder to give you a sloppy open-mouthed kiss. A trail of saliva left between your lips when you parted.

Yuuta’s spent no extra moment finding his stride, his movements becoming rough and unyielding as he fucks you with such devoted reverence. You’re helpless. All you could do was beg for more as you gulped in the air.

It’s obscene, the way he makes you moan. You’re powerless to fight against the way he makes your heart skip and your stomach churn. You feel on fire like he’s burning you to a crisp of ash and dust only to resurrect you again if only to just keep fucking you.

Yuuta’s movements become more urgent and the tension between you reaches its peak. With each thrust, you feel yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy, your senses overwhelmed by Yuuta.

Suddenly, you feel a surge of pleasure coursing through your veins, your body convulsing with the intensity of your release. With a cry, you shatter into a million pieces, the only thing able to leave your mouth is the chant of, “Yuuta-- Ah, Yuuta, Yuuta.”

“I’m here,” he replies, voice strained feeling your pussy tighten around his cock, “I’m right here.” Feeling the wetness and tightness of your cum triggers Yuuta’s climax, and with a stifled moan, he follows suit, pouring his hot cum into you.

Yuuta pulls you into his arms, his leaky cock still hard inside of you. Your dark-haired lover kisses your temple and leaves sweet whispers across the sweat of your skin. He holds you close, entwining you into him as your eyelids get heavy and you feel sleep take over your spent body.

You feel loved.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

In your dreams, you find yourself lost in a labyrinth of shadows, the air thick with the scent of decay. Whispers echo through the darkness, taunting you with half-formed promises and cryptic warnings.

You stumble through the endless maze, searching for an escape, but the shadows seem to shift and twist, leading you further into the depths of your despair.

And then, just when you think you can bear it no longer, you see him. Yuuta stands before you, his dark eyes looking into yours as he reaches out to you with a hand shrouded in darkness.

He whispers something, you don’t understand. But you still reach out, taking his hand into yours.

You awaken with a start, the echoes of your nightmare still lingering in the recesses of your mind.

Heart pounding, you sit up in bed, the room bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains.

Yuuta is gone, but his warmth remains.

A sense of foreboding settles over you like a shroud.

[chibsandchill]

See me

Fandom: Saltburn 

Pairing: Felix x AFAB!Reader 

Summary: Each room in Saltburn is bursting at the seam with memories with you, and Felix remembers some of his favorite moments as he makes his way to his prize. 

Warnings: Felix, Mentions and descriptions of acts of violence and murder, NSFW content, MDNI, 18+, unreliable narrator (Felix), toxic relationship, obsessive tendencies, grammatical and spelling errors, p in v sex, oral sex (m receiving), Felix is a creep, themes of violence - self-harm and equivalent themes are prevalent through the imagine, some parts of their dynamic takes inspiration from Hannigram but with my spin on obsession

I am not responsible for your media consumption. Read the tags. 

MDNI

Masterlist

:-:-:-:-:-:-:

It’s a cloudy day when Felix first saw you,

but with you came the sun, 

warmth, empathy, love. 

Oh, how he loved your heart. But, oh, how careless you were with it. It was a gift, 

one meant for him, 

from you. 

Then why did you waste it on those beneath you? You chipped away at it to mend sobbing students, tore at it until it bled and thick scars rose like mountains. You took on their pain with a blindingly bright smile, 

only Felix saw how their burdens weighed you down. 

The sun was meant to warm, to burn from far away, 

but they tore you down from your place in the sky so that they might leech your warmth until you are left barren. Their sorrows were cold as ice against you. 

They stole you from him. Piece by piece they ripped at you with filthy nails. You became known on campus as someone who’d listen. Who wouldn’t judge. How could you when you felt their problems as if they were your own? The more they spoke those words dripping with poison, the more they tainted the very blood in your veins with their darkness. 

‘Walk in their shoes’. 

You didn’t need to. You could walk in their skin, feel their emotions as if they were yours. Heartbreak plagued you, sorrow fell on you like an ever present shadow. The death of a family not yours turned your face gray and your eyes misty.

Until Felix put a stop to it all. How could he stand by and watch it happen? The slow destruction of a bright star, who burned so bright that all envied it. 

Jenny from history of art, Carl from math, Robert from physics, Matilda from psychology, Caroline, Jeremy, Han, Thomas, Harry, Derek, Henry, Linda, Nico, Mark, John, Hans, William, Frederic. All turned away at your door. 

“Yes, I’ll tell her.”

“I’ll let her know.”

“Sure thing, buddy.”

Oh, how they believed his lies. Sweet, sweet, Felix Catton wouldn’t lie to them. Surely not. 

But lie, he did. It spewed from his lips like honey. All to have his sun beam at him again. To wash away the taint of the others from your skin, your heart, your eyes. He would have you look at him with soft, relaxed eyes. 

Him. Him. Him. Him.

Your protector. Even if you didn’t know it yet. 

“Felix.” 

He hummed. 

Your eyes are heavy with sleep when you look up at him, but the affection is hard to miss. It makes you glow. Felix curled his arm further around you, bringing you closer to him. But even then it is not close enough. He aches. It’s a want deeper than skin, deeper than bones or even his soul. It was as if his very being was made of want, of longing so intense he was blinded by it. If God was indeed real then he had created Felix with a thread laced with obsession, with love transcending all else. 

Even thinking about you made his heart race, pound. 

“Can I braid your hair?” 

“‘Course.” He said against your skin. 

As if you needed to ask. All of him was yours. 

You try to sit up but Felix isn’t ready to break the contact yet. He feels like a battery, no matter how bizarre a comparison it is, constantly needing to be recharged so that he might survive when you part. He’s constantly cold without you, he feels empty; hollow. His hands are too light with the lack of you, he breathes too easy without the weight of you on his chest. If he could he’d carve his heart out so that you could carry it with you, for that was how he felt anyway. He’d gouge himself hollow so that he could fit you inside. Never to be parted again, joined together by shared blood, flesh and bone. 

It’s not easy with his hold on you, but you manage to shift so that you sit in his lap instead. It’s not ideal if you mean to truly braid his hair but Felix won’t complain. He pushed his head into your touch when your fingers hover over him. 

“Patience.” You half-heartedly scold him. 

Your fingers weave through his hair, nails scratching just right against his scalp. With deft hands you untangle the mess you’d created during the night. There’s not much to braid but more than enough for you to wrap around your fingers and tug. The action pulls a low groan from his throat. 

He grabs your hips. Felix wonders if you’ve noticed how he’s caged you in. You probably don’t, as sweet and trusting a being as you surely wouldn’t peel back his layers to gasp at the thriving darkness beneath. With you he was his truest self. Could you see him? Would you run if he were to cast off the layers? Let you see him? 

Maybe you already could. You had seen the others. Even the empty ones, the ones who had gouged themselves hollow and shoved the essence of what they thought he wanted until it spilled from every hole in their body. 

Felix wasn’t hollow. He was bursting at the seams with life, same as you. And yet you stayed. Surely you knew. You had to. You and he were one. Two pieces of a whole finally reunited. 

He breaths in your scent, noses along your throat before allowing his head to rest in the crook of your neck. There’s a bruise there hidden on your shoulder blade. Late one night when you’d already fallen asleep he mouthed it into your skin with the moon as his witness, 

only, 

it had started to fade. 

He’d have to do it again. Closer. Marking you under the cover of darkness wasn’t enough anymore. An unspoken claim didn’t satisfy him anymore. It wasn’t enough. He was beginning to think it never would be. He could bruise every inch of your skin with his love and his skin would still itch to do more – to prove himself more to you.  

Just as his hands slide down to rest on the curve of your ass the scene slips through his fingers like sand. 

He blinks it away. He’s standing in the driveway of Saltburn. Your favorite statue is left in shambles on the gravel with his blood splattered across the white marble. 

“What the fuck.” Felix’s hand shakes and burns with pain. His knuckles are split open. 

It had been a slip of a thought he had once when you first came to Saltburn and you’d taken to leaning on the statues, the furniture, walls, pillars. He’d wanted them all gone. He’d be your pillar. He wouldn’t crumble with age, would never make you think they stood strong only for the core to be riddled with holes from pests.

Felix was whole and strong, had made himself such, 

for you. 

He’d burnt the tendrils of influence his mother had dug into him since childhood. Torn the threads of her darkness right out of the tapestry. Oh, how she cried when she noticed. ‘Felix,’ she’d whispered, a rare show of emotion plastered across her face, ‘what have you done?’. 

She shouldn’t have worried about what he had done. No, she should’ve worried about what he was going to do. 

He watched you for weeks before approaching you. He noticed what made you laugh, what made you smile, frown, scowl. And so he took that too. Cut out the parts of himself that would drop the smile from your face and sewed on the parts that he lacked until he was left a patch-work version of perfecting befitting a Mary Shelley novel. Pus and blood seeped from the stitches. The sight was unseemly. So he waited until he’d perfected himself, until the stolen was assimilated, until it was like another Felix had never existed. 

Felix throws the heavy doors open and the maids scurry away from his sight. 

Duncan emerges from the pack. Even after all he’d seen, his adoration for Felix remained. “Welcome back, Felix.” 

He nods. 

And then he’s off. 

The route he takes is reminiscent of your first tour of the mansion. He’s even nodding along as if hearing himself introduce it all. The staircase where he “fingered” his cousin. As if. Your face had reddened with equal parts jealousy and sheer disbelief of ‘what the fuck’. 

One of the smaller sitting rooms. The green one. He fucking hates that room. But you love it. He went down on you for the first time there. Right on the couch with his granny’s ghost knocking down a shelf of antique plates over his head. The blood had driven you crazy. 

The thought alone made him hard. 

But this was also the first room you’d held him properly in. He’d been crying. 

“What's wrong?” You ask when he threw the door open. 

You’d been doing some summer reading for uni, but your fingers clutched the opening pages with strength that betrayed your pounding headache. 

“Fucking Ollie.” 

Your brows furrow “Oliver?”

Felix lay down on the couch with his head in your lap. You smell good. And you’re soft. 

“Yeah.” He sigh. “He was lying to us this whole time. Turns out poor Oliver Quick has both a dad and mum who loves him. Even siblings! They live in a lovely house in a picture perfect neighborhood.”

‘I just need you to understand how much I fucking love you!’

As if there was even a sliver of Felix that didn’t belong to you, that didn’t scream out for you every second you were apart. Had Oliver not been paying attention? Could he not see the need that permated him? It ran so deep, was so all-consuming that he couldn’t contain it all. He breathed desire, cried longing, even fucking pissed envy. Envy even over the very air you breathed, the clothing that hugged you, the sheets for the audacity to imply he wasn’t enough to keep you warm. 

You hum as your fingers drift down to cup his face. 

“He was in love with me.” 

“Isn’t everyone?” You joke. 

Felix’s eyes opened (he hadn’t realized he closed them). “You love me?”

“Of course.” You trace a scar on his cheekbone. 

“Say it.” 

“I love you, Felix.”

Even that memory fades, but your words linger. 

I love you, Felix. 

You always linger. Your kisses burn his skin and he wishes it left a scar so that he could look upon it and relive it all. 

The green room is abandoned quickly, and he’s off. 

“A blue room!” You exclaim, and to Felix’s displeasure you let go of him to take it all in. 

“Yeah. It’s… blue.” 

“What? No ghosts? No artifacts?”

Felix shakes his head. “Nope. Just blue.”

Felix sees himself leaning against the door while you spin around the room. It’s like a movie, almost. Only it’s his memories and he can remember every second he’s ever spent in your presence. Including this one. And the next one. 

The one where you’re on your knees.

You’re pressing soft kisses to the tip of his cock, pressing your love into every inch of skin you can find as if you wanted to stay there, to have your love replace the tar that ran through his veins. 

It’s odd. He can almost feel the tingles left by your touch, but he’s untouched. Felix’s hands form fists at the sight. Was it possible to be jealous even of himself? The envy boiling in his stomach certainly said so. He would not share you even with himself. 

Felix strides forward and sinks into the place his past self sits. He unbuckles his jeans and frees his cock from his underwear. If he were not so deep in madness he might’ve felt the cold of the room, but he was, and so he felt the warmth of your hands, the wetness of your mouth as you wrap your lips around his tip. 

He moans. He didn’t know what he liked the most about it. The vulnerability, the act itself, your presence, or that it left you with a part of him inside you. You’d kneel in front of him for as long as it took, but Felix would not have you be uncomfortable and so he slid a pillow under your knees. 

Your hands cup his balls. He twitches. You take more of him into you. It feels like heaven to have you wrap yourself around him. Wet, warm, silky heaven. All for him. 

Him. Him. Him. Him. His. 

You moan around him. It sends vibrations straight through him. It pulls a low groan straight from his chest, one that makes you moan. His pleasure is your pleasure, and your pleasure is his, and so the circle begins. 

His eyes roll into the back of his head when you begin bobbing your head up and down. You slurp. Electricity runs down his spine. It’s wet. Sloppy. Saliva drips down your mouth as you press your nose into his abdomen. 

Someone drops a plate somewhere in the house and the spell is broken. Not unlike a reflection in a lake is the memory distorted, wrong. You’re on your knees without the pillow. He’s standing above you, not sitting. Your knees are bruised and bleeding. You’re crying. 

Some small part of him, one that he’d allowed to fester for far too long, enjoys the scene. Enjoys the submission, thrives in the knowledge that it is not only he that longs and wants and would press and press until nothing remains if only to bring you a sliver of happiness. You smile around his cock. It’s not the pain that brings you to tears. 

This isn’t right. This isn’t him. It’s Elspeth messing with his head. It’s Oliver whispering his lies in his ear. 

He wants to vomit. Why would they punish him so? To make him see you hurt, 

to force him to see himself hurt you, brutalize you, 

humiliate you. 

Why, when he adored you, worshiped you. If there was a puddle he’d lay himself down to let you walk over him. He’d drown himself so that you would not have to dirty yourself. Like a tumor he’d performed surgery after surgery to remove what you didn’t like. 

And you did the same. 

The image is restored, but he’s already on his feet. 

He would wait no longer. 

Felix runs up the stairs but is forced to a halt by the moans coming from the king’s bedroom. Another memory? The door is already open. 

“Tell me your vows again.” 

You’ve got your legs up in the air behind you, head resting in your hands as you stare at him. 

“Dear,” Felix turns around from where he stood by the window. Your name sounds like prayer on his lips. “I’ve never been alone. People have flocked to me since before I can remember. But they didn’t see me. But you… you, I let you see me. It’s a rare gift. And it’s one that I’ve never regretted giving you. I’ve never felt more loved than in your arms. Do I need to continue, Mrs Catton?” 

You laugh. 

“Come to bed, Felix.”

The memory changes before he can enjoy the sight of you in your wedding dress. The happiest day of his life. Gone in a blink. 

You’re no longer on the bed. You’re in his arms, crying yet again. There’s blood on his shirt. No finger graces your finger. Felix closes his eyes. He knows this memory. KNows very well what he’d have to endure to get back to you. 

“Y-you killed him!” You shudder. 

Felix shushes you. “There was no other way.”

“There’s always another way.”

“Not this time." 

Truly, there wasn’t. You saw much, but Oliver was so good at pretending to be someone else that he even fooled himself into believing his own lies. And so, you thought nothing of it when Oliver offered you his bottle of wine. Had no idea of the drugs that he’d shoved in there. 

“Are you scared of me?” Felix asks you. His voice shakes. He remembers his own fear, how his stomach churned. He could write a thousand words and not even chip at the surface of the emotions he felt. A thrill at the thought of you finally seeing the deepest deepest parts of him? Disgust that he’d slipped and revealed a crack in his mask? Such fear that it clung to his very bones, stopped his lungs from working and had his own eyes water with tears? All true. And yet all of them are false. There wasn’t a single emotion he could place, they all blended together to form a concoction of heart-wrenching pain and fear. 

The memory fades away. He doesn’t remember the rest. All he remembers is how it ended. 

The headboard bangs against the wall with the force of his thrusts. His hands are cradling your face, kissing away the tears of pleasure. You push your legs up higher on his back where you’ve hitched them, your own hands pressing against his own face to bring him closer. He’s inside you but he’s not close enough. 

Felix leans down to cover your whole body with his. You squeak at the change. 

“Oh god,” you throw your head back with a moan. 

He moves a deft finger down to press down on your clit. He experimented with pressure, directions, even spelled out his own name with your pleasure. Felix feels as though he’s on fire, but still he wants more. He wants to be closer. Closer. Closer. Closer. 

You clench around his cock, and he stutters. 

The love in your eyes makes him falter, before he drives into you faster than before. The bed squeaks, one hard thrust away from breaking. Fitting. So is he. Your right hand moved up his cheekbone, past his ear and to the back of his head. Your touch is gentle, barely-there pressure as you guide him down to slant your mouth over his. His heart aches with love, adoration, you. You’ve made it your home. 

Yet again he is denied release as the memory is gone. The room is empty. 

“Fuck.”

It’s not graceful the way he stalks out of the room. No more interruptions, he thinks. 

The last door in the corridor. Yours. And his. Your marital chambers, as Duncan would call it. Old fashioned bastard. 

He pushes it open without as much as a knock. And there you are. 

“Felix!” You cross the room in seconds and then you’ve thrown yourself in his arms. “We missed you!”

Your rounded stomach presses into him. He rests his forehead on yours, pressing long, soft kisses against your lips, even as you giggle and try to move away. When you do, he chases after you. He’s not done. Never done. 

His legs feel like jelly, his soul is on fire, 

but he finally found you.

In a house full of memories and vengeful ghosts he found you. 

And you saw him, as you always do, and he’s tugged back into bed with the comforting weight of you pressing him down into the mattress. 

And he’s almost content. 

Almost. 

Taglist:

@fedyascoffin

[xthejazzdalorianx]

Kindred Souls (One-Shot)

pairing(s): Erik (Magneto) Lehnsherr x Telekinetic!Mutant!Female!Reader

warning(s): EXPLICIT SO MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, angst, SMUT, fluff, yearning, angst, fluff, p in v sex, reverence, and romance. Erik is rude as hell, but he warms up anyway. Oh yea, edging, too.

a/n: credit to my coworker for the title name, but i hope y’all enjoy this one! this would be my second fan fiction that i have ever written so please let me know if you have any tips & tricks or if you would like to see more! <3

word count: 4.1k

- - - - - - -

summary: In this story, Erik, struggling with Charles' death and his new role as X-Men leader, faces unresolved feelings for you. Your sudden return after ten years rekindles their deep connection, leading to a heartfelt confrontation about love and regret. The story ends with an intimate reunion that symbolizes healing and growth, as Erik seeks forgiveness and you offer unwavering support, setting the stage for a shared future.

- - - - - - -

It was evening in New York at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, and the air was cool and crisp with a hint of winter. The mansion, usually bustling with activity, was eerily quiet since Charles' passing. Outside, the city slept in blissful ignorance of the heavy decisions weighing on Erik's shoulders.

The sky above the mansion was a deep shade of indigo, the street lamps casting a soft golden glow on the surrounding buildings. The bare trees rustled in the crisp breeze, their branches casting long, spindly shadows across the quiet grounds. The mansion itself was a grand, old-fashioned building, its windows dark and silent.

Before he died, Charles had left a will with a profound request: that if anything were to happen to him, Erik would take over as leader of the X-Men and continue their mission to create harmony between humans and mutants. Though Erik wasn't sure if he still believed in this vision, it was something he cared deeply about. Charles had been more than just a friend; he was like a brother. And it was Charles who had seen the depth of Erik's feelings for you.

You were the light that brightened Erik's life, and your absence has left a void that he struggles to fill. The pain of losing you lingers like a shadow, a constant reminder of what once was. He buries his emotions deep inside, masking them with a facade of strength and control, but they never truly go away.

Erik now goes by Magneto, embracing the name as a symbol of power and dominance. It shields him from the world and makes him feel invincible. But at the same time, it creates a barrier that prevents him from facing his own vulnerability. His helmet serves as both a shield from external noise and a cage that keeps him isolated from his own feelings.

- - - - - - -

Sitting in Charles' old wheelchair, its leather worn and creaky under his weight, Magneto stared at his helmet. The metallic surface reflected the dim light of the room as he let out a heavy sigh, conveying the weariness in his soul.

He reached out, his fingertips brushing the cool metal of the helmet. With a flick of his wrist, it rose into the air, spinning slowly before his eyes. The power coursed through him, as natural as breathing, yet it brought him no comfort.

"What would you do, old friend?" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper in the empty room. The silence that answered was deafening.

He was facing a harsh reality: he had lost your love and with it, a part of himself. His determination to fight for mutant rights often felt hollow without you by his side. The X-Men, who had once seen him as an enemy, now looked to him for guidance with a mix of suspicion and hope. He couldn't blame them; his actions in the past had been driven by his own relentless pursuit of power and control.

Despite the mistrust and fractured mission, Erik clung to Charles' vision. Though it may have faded over time, he still believed that mutants deserved equality, respect, and a chance at peaceful coexistence with humanity. It was a dream that seemed just as distant as the warmth he once found in your embrace.

Leaning back in the wheelchair, Magneto tried to focus on plans for the X-Men, but his mind kept drifting back to you. The plans seemed insignificant compared to the memories of your laughter and touch. As he attempted to steer his thoughts back towards the future he was trying to build, the weight of his emotions bore down heavily on him. The road ahead felt isolating and uncertain, but for Charles, for the X-Men, and for the hope of a better world, he would continue forward - no matter how shattered his heart may feel.

The door creaked open and shut quietly as you stepped into the room. For a moment, everything seemed frozen in time. It had been ten years since you last laid eyes on each other, and seeing Erik in the dim light of the study felt almost surreal. Your heart raced with uncertainty as you questioned whether this moment was real or simply a figment of your imagination.

- - - - - - -

"Erik?" Your voice was a hesitant whisper filled with a mix of emotions - uncertainty, longing, and the weight of years apart.

Erik's head whipped around upon hearing his name, a flicker of disbelief flashing across his face. For a moment, he thought he must be dreaming, but as he turned to fully face you, the reality of your presence was undeniable. His expression hardened into a mask of controlled stoicism, a defense mechanism honed from years of guarding his heart.

"What are you doing here?" Erik's voice remained steady, but a hint of vulnerability seeped through. "I wanted to be alone, and you have no right to call me that." His frown deepened, his emotions threatening to break through the carefully crafted facade he tried so hard to maintain.

As you laid eyes on him, the tension between you seemed palpable, almost visible in the air. His rigid stance and guarded expression were like a shield, shielding him from the emotions that threatened to break through.

Erik's body language spoke volumes - his stiff posture, the slight tensing of his jaw, the way he avoided making direct eye contact. He seemed to be trying to hold his emotions in check, but his eyes betrayed him, revealing a mix of longing and pain.

"I heard about Charles," you said softly, your heart aching for him. "I came to see how you're doing. The X-Men are worried about you, and I know how much he meant to you..." Your eyes were filled with sadness as you spoke, reaching out for him despite his attempt to push you away. You wanted to offer comfort, but hesitated, unsure of how he would react.

Magneto scoffed at your concern, his face a blend of disbelief and anger. He couldn't help but wonder: Did you truly care about Charles, or was there another reason for your return? What was your true agenda? "Why are you really here?" His voice held a hint of frustration, but beneath it lay a vulnerability he could barely acknowledge.

You were taken aback by his coldness, but took a deep breath before responding. "I'm here for both you and the X-Men, Erik." You paused before correcting yourself, "Magneto." Lowering your gaze briefly before looking back up at him, you continued, "Just because we have history doesn't mean I don't still care about you."

“You walked away,” he spat, his words stinging like a whip. “And now you're not my responsibility anymore.” His tone was harsh and sharp, piercing through your heart, but you knew it was just a mask to hide the pain you had caused him. You could feel the hurt that lingered from your departure, and while you understood his anger, you couldn't help but wonder if he was also struggling with his own unresolved emotions. Was he trying to come to terms with why you had left? Beneath his calm facade, you sensed a tempest of emotions brewing, but you weren't sure if he was ready to confront them.

You took a hesitant step forward, drawn towards the comforting warmth of the fireplace near his desk. He watched you closely, tracking your every move. As you gazed into the crackling flames, you tried to gather your thoughts and find the right words to address the past.

Turning back to face him, your mouth opened and closed as you struggled to speak. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes, but you looked away, unwilling to show him your vulnerability. “I left because I wanted a future with you,” you said softly, barely above a whisper. “I wanted us to have a family together. But then things changed...you started hurting people, Erik. You scared me…” Your voice trailed off as you wrapped your arms around yourself, unable to contain the weight of your emotions any longer.

Erik's expression softened as he placed the helmet on the desk and stood up from Charles' wheelchair. He walked towards you with purpose, his footsteps slow and deliberate. Gently, he lifted your chin to meet his gaze. "I'm sorry, liebling," he said, his voice tinged with a rare vulnerability.

- - - - - - -

As tears slowly rolled down your cheeks, Erik tenderly brushed them away with a gentle touch. "I wish you had told me," he whispered regretfully. "But I understand now why you left. I thought I was doing what needed to be done..." His voice trailed off as he searched for answers and a connection that he believed was lost forever.

His hand moved to rest against your cheek, and you leaned into it, closing your eyes. Your heart skipped a beat at his presence. "I know...my love," you said softly, filled with tenderness.

Erik's eyes widened as the word "love" fell from your lips. It was a word he hadn't heard in years, and it brought back memories that still haunted him. He struggled to find the right words, his heart racing at the thought of finally admitting his feelings for you. He opened his mouth several times, but no sound came out. After a few moments of silence, he managed to choke out, "Why...now?" He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing thoughts. "Why are you telling me this now?" Despite the distance and time that had passed since they were together, his love for you had never truly gone away. It had always been there, even amidst his strong dedication to mutant rights.

You were at a loss for words. Your mind was buzzing with thoughts, unsure of what words to form or if you should even say anything at all.

He cautiously stepped closer, closing the gap between you. His familiar scent enveloped you, reminding you of all the memories you had tried so hard to bury. Your heart raced as he reached out, his fingers barely grazing your arm.

"I never thought I'd see you again," he murmured roughly, overcome with emotion.

You fought back tears as best as you could. "I didn't think you'd want to," you whispered.

A shadow of pain passed over his face. "I've regretted that day for years," he admitted. "If I could go back..."

You shook your head, cutting him off. "We can't change the past, Erik. I couldn't stay away any longer," you confessed. "I thought I was doing the right thing by letting you focus on your mission. But then I realized..." You took a deep breath, trying to hold back your emotions. "I realized that life is too short and unpredictable, especially for people like us."

Erik winced at your words. He had been younger then, fueled by his intense hatred towards humanity and the injustices he had endured. He hadn't expected that hatred to overshadow his ability to love, and your words left him struggling to find a response.

You pleaded with him, desperate for a response. Your eyes scanned his face, hoping to catch a glimpse of what he truly felt. Suddenly, you noticed a change in his expression - a fleeting look of desire and vulnerability.

In a rush of emotion, Erik blurted out, "Will you stay with me?" His voice quivered with unspoken worries. "I can't handle losing you again, mein liebe."

You didn’t hesitate to agree to stay. The thought of being apart from him once more was unbearable; you had missed him desperately. Erik never truly believed that you would return to him. He thought you would want nothing to do with him after everything that had happened.

- - - - - - -

As soon as your words left your lips, his heart began to pound and his mind raced out of control. Memories of your love flooded his mind: the feel of your skin, the sound of your voice, the scent of your perfume. They overwhelmed him, filling the space between you with a powerful and bittersweet nostalgia.

Your voice trembled with emotion as you spoke again. "I will never leave you again," you said softly. "My love for you has never faltered. Even after all these years apart, I never moved on." Your words hit him hard, a gut-punch he wasn't expecting. His heart felt like it was about to burst from the intensity of emotions that surged through him. Hearing you declare your love once more was a truth he had struggled to accept himself. Deep down, he had never truly let go of his feelings for you.

He took a shaky breath and gently placed his hand on the back of your neck. You both closed your eyes as he pulled you in closer until your foreheads were touching. “I have never stopped loving you,” he whispered, barely above a murmur. “It was torture when you left…” He swallowed hard, trying to contain the flood of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. All the years apart, battles fought, and loneliness endured came crashing down in that moment.

With a few calming breaths, you both opened your eyes and slowly pulled apart, the closeness still tangible. His gaze held yours, baring his heart in a raw, vulnerable state. "You were my everything," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I didn't realize until now how lost I was without you." He searched your face for any sign of the promised love, hoping against hope that this time would bring something different.

There was an invisible force between you, pulling you together with a magnetic power that could not be resisted. Your eyes remained locked on each other's lips, filled with anticipation and unspoken promises. Then, without hesitation, your lips met in a passionate embrace. As the kiss deepened, years of yearning finally gave way to the storm of emotions between you.

The initial touch of your lips sparked an electric current through him, nearly causing him to lose his balance. Guided by a tender yet commanding force, his hands firmly grasped your hips and drew you closer. A deep hum escaped him as each kiss reignited long-suppressed desires. Amidst the exchange of fervent kisses, you whispered how much you had missed him, soothing his aching heart with every word.

Erik felt another surge of longing as each kiss intensified their shared confessions, drawing them closer with every heated touch. The urgency in their kisses grew more insistent, begging for closeness as he pulled her tighter against him. Unable to wait any longer, he reluctantly broke the embrace and gazed at her pleadingly as she reached for him. In a raw and desperate voice, he whispered, "Please...I need you." There was no room for hesitation in his tone, only an overwhelming urgency that demanded immediate action.

- - - - - - -

As your eyes meet, a silent understanding passes between you. You use your powers to change the room, and the furniture rearranges itself as if by magic. The soft glow of the fireplace reflects off the cozy blankets and plush pillows, inviting you to indulge in the moment.

The room was quickly transformed into a warm and inviting space, the furniture moving under your careful control as you worked together. The blankets and pillows seemed to dance in the air, creating a cozy and intimate nook by the fireplace. The flickering flames cast a soft orange glow, adding to the romantic atmosphere.

Erik led you to a cozy nest of pillows and blankets near the flickering fire, gazing at you with a mix of longing and adoration. He guided you onto the soft surface with gentle movements, his eyes drinking in every curve and contour of your body as if he wanted to commit them to memory.

His thumb traced along your jawline, causing you to let out a gasp. The tension in your body only fueled Erik's desire for you. His hand ventured down your body and slipped into your pants, finding the heat and wetness waiting for him.

Your breath caught at his touch, and your body instinctively moved towards him. The intensity in Erik's eyes grew as he watched your reaction. With skillful precision, he brushed his fingers between the folds of your sex, hitting all the sensitive spots that sent waves of pleasure through you. Your body trembled beneath him as he continued to pleasure you.

Erik’s lips traced a path down your neck, nibbling and sucking at the sensitive skin. With his free hand, he worked on unbuttoning your shirt, revealing more of your flesh to his hungry gaze. As each button came undone, he placed soft kisses on the newly exposed skin, gradually making his way down your chest. Your breath hitched as he reached the swell of your breasts, teasingly brushing his hot mouth against the edge of your bra.

"Erik, please," you whimpered, arching into his touch.

He looked up at you, eyes dark with desire. "Tell me what you want, love," he murmured against your skin.

"I want you," you gasped. "All of you."

With a growl, Erik captured your lips again in a searing kiss. His hands made quick work of the rest of your clothing, leaving you bare beneath him. You tugged at his shirt impatiently, desperate to feel his skin against yours.

Erik let out a soft chuckle as he pulled away, discarding his clothes before settling back above you. Your eyes drank in the sight of his toned body as he positioned himself back into place. One hand stayed close to your head while the other made its way down to your center. As he began to gently massage small circles on your most sensitive spot, your muscles tensed and your breath hitched in your throat.

He craved your scent, wanting to lose himself in it completely. He wanted to savor every bit of you.

Suddenly, he slid his middle and ring fingers between your folds, causing you to cry out in shock. As he started to move in and out of you, you couldn't help but whisper his name like a holy chant. "Erik," you moaned, cherishing the way his name felt on your lips.

Erik's smirk only widened as he continued to tease you with his fingers. "Liebling, if you keep calling my name like that, I don't know if I can hold back much longer," he playfully warned.

His fingers slipped into you at a frustratingly slow pace and you could feel yourself reaching the brink of pleasure. "Please, Erik... faster..." you pleaded, desperate for him to pick up the pace. He obliged, finding that perfect spot inside of you that sent waves of ecstasy through your body. The books on the bookshelf started to topple as your telekinetic powers reacted to the overwhelming sensation. Erik clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

"I'm close," you whimpered, but Erik shook his head.

"Not yet... not until I say so," he said with a teasing tone. This only made you groan in frustration, your hips moving in rhythm with his fingers in a desperate attempt to reach your climax. But just when you thought you couldn't take it anymore, he pulled his fingers out.

You let out a whimper at the loss of his touch. Erik chuckled softly and positioned himself between your legs, pumping himself a few times before rubbing his cock against your folds, teasing you even further.

"Stop teasing me," you pouted, your frustration palpable. You wanted to smack him for holding back your release and taunting you with his erection.

After some playful teasing, he entered you, emitting a deep groan as he felt the warmth radiating from you. He waited for you to adjust to his size before moving again.

"Are you okay?" he whispered, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his strong shoulders. "Yes," you gasped. "Please..."

Erik started to move at a gentle pace, each thrust bringing waves of pleasure. You arched your back, matching his movements. His lips found their way to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses along your sensitive skin.

As passion overtook both of you, the tempo increased gradually. The air was filled with soft moans and gasps as Erik's strong arms held you close, driving deeper into your body. You ran your fingers through his hair, overwhelmed by the intense sensations.

"Erik," you cried out as waves of ecstasy began to build inside you. Your body trembled under his urgent movements as he buried his face in your neck, sending shivers down your spine with his hot breath.

"You feel amazing," he groaned, his voice thick with desire.

Your fingers dug into his broad shoulders as the intensity grew, and Erik's lips found your neck, leaving hot kisses along your sensitive skin. You arched your back against his solid chest, unable to hold back your pleasure any longer.

"Oh god, Erik," you moaned desperately.

He responded by increasing his pace, driving you both closer to the edge. The friction between your bodies was almost too much to bear. You could feel yourself on the brink of release.

Erik's ragged breathing and urgent movements pushed you over the edge. "Come for me," he growled in your ear, his desire evident in his husky voice.

Those words were all it took for you to tumble into mind-blowing ecstasy. Erik followed moments later, whispering your name as he found his own release.

You clung to each other, riding out the waves of pleasure together.

His hand moved to your clit, gently rubbing it in slow circles that made you arch your hips up in delight. "E-erik!," you gasped, unable to contain yourself. He silenced you with a tender shush and continued peppering kisses along your neck, marking you as his own.

The pleasure was reaching an overwhelming level, rendering you speechless as your brows furrowed in sheer ecstasy. He wanted to prolong your orgasm, drawing out every moment of bliss. Suddenly, without warning, a surge of release overcame you and you gasped for breath. Erik smirked, pleased with the outcome of his actions. He withdrew from you, leaving a mix of his cum and your juices scattered around.

"Good girl," he whispers, kissing your forehead. As Erik shifts to the side, you snuggle against his chest and feel the quick thumping of his heart. His arms wrap around you, keeping you warm and secure as your breath slows back to a steady rhythm. A sense of deep satisfaction washes over you as you revel in the peaceful aftermath.

For a long while, you lay together in contented silence, basking in the afterglow. Erik's fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin as you nestled against his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow. The crackling fire cast a warm glow over your entwined bodies.

"I've missed this," Erik murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Missed you."

You tilted your head up to meet his gaze, seeing a vulnerability there that he rarely showed. "I've missed you too," you whispered. "More than you know."

His arms tightened around you. "I was a fool to let you go," he said, voice thick with emotion. "I won't make

The room was bathed in a warm glow from the fireplace, casting dancing shadows on the repositioned furniture. The blankets and pillows seemed to float effortlessly through the air, creating a cozy and inviting space.

As your eyes meet, a silent understanding passes between you. You use your powers to change the room, and the furniture rearranges itself as if by magic. The soft glow of the fireplace reflects off the cozy blankets and plush pillows, inviting you to indulge in the moment.

The room was quickly transformed into a warm and inviting space, the furniture moving under your careful control as you worked together. The blankets and pillows seemed to dance in the air, creating a cozy and intimate nook by the fireplace. The flickering flames cast a soft orange glow, adding to the romantic atmosphere.

- - - - - - -

Erik led you to a cozy nest of pillows and blankets near the flickering fire, gazing at you with a mix of longing and adoration. He guided you onto the soft surface with gentle movements, his eyes drinking in every curve and contour of your body as if he wanted to commit them to memory.

His thumb traced along your jawline, causing you to let out a moan. The tension in your body only fueled Erik's desire for you. His hand ventured down your body and slipped into your pants, finding the heat and wetness waiting for him.

Your breath caught at his touch, and your body instinctively moved towards him. The intensity in Erik's eyes grew as he watched your reaction. With skillful precision, he brushed his fingers between the folds of your sex, hitting all the sensitive spots that sent waves of pleasure through you. Your body trembled beneath him as he continued to pleasure you.

Erik’s lips traced a path down your neck, nibbling and sucking at the sensitive skin. With his free hand, he worked on unbuttoning your shirt, revealing more of your flesh to his hungry gaze. As each button came undone, he placed soft kisses on the newly exposed skin, gradually making his way down your chest. Your breath hitched as he reached the swell of your breasts, teasingly brushing his hot mouth against the edge of your bra.

"Erik, please," you whimpered, arching into his touch.

He looked up at you, eyes dark with desire. "Tell me what you want, love," he murmured against your skin.

"I want you," you gasped. "All of you."

With a growl, Erik captured your lips again in a searing kiss. His hands made quick work of the rest of your clothing, leaving you bare beneath him. You tugged at his shirt impatiently, desperate to feel his skin against yours.

Erik let out a soft chuckle as he pulled away, discarding his clothes before settling back above you. Your eyes drank in the sight of his toned body as he positioned himself back into place. One hand stayed close to your head while the other made its way down to your center. As he began to gently massage small circles on your most sensitive spot, your muscles tensed and your breath hitched in your throat.

He craved your scent, wanting to lose himself in it completely. He wanted to savor every bit of you.

Suddenly, he slid his middle and ring fingers between your folds, causing you to cry out in shock. As he started to move in and out of you, you couldn't help but whisper his name like a holy chant. "Erik," you moaned, cherishing the way his name felt on your lips.

Erik's smirk only widened as he continued to tease you with his fingers. "Liebling, if you keep calling my name like that, I don't know if I can hold back much longer," he playfully warned.

His fingers slipped into you at a frustratingly slow pace and you could feel yourself reaching the brink of pleasure. "Please, Erik... faster..." you pleaded, desperate for him to pick up the pace. He obliged, finding that perfect spot inside of you that sent waves of ecstasy through your body. The books on the bookshelf started to topple as your telekinetic powers reacted to the overwhelming sensation. Erik clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

"I'm close," you whimpered, but Erik shook his head.

"Not yet... not until I say so," he said with a teasing tone. This only made you groan in frustration, your hips moving in rhythm with his fingers in a desperate attempt to reach your climax. But just when you thought you couldn't take it anymore, he pulled his fingers out.

You let out a whimper at the loss of his touch. Erik chuckled softly and positioned himself between your legs, pumping himself a few times before rubbing his cock against your folds, teasing you even further.

"Stop teasing me," you pouted, your frustration palpable. You wanted to smack him for holding back your release and taunting you with his erection.

After some playful teasing, he entered you, emitting a deep groan as he felt the warmth radiating from you. He waited for you to adjust to his size before moving again.

"Are you okay?" he whispered, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his strong shoulders. "Yes," you gasped. "Please..."

Erik started to move at a gentle pace, each thrust bringing waves of pleasure. You arched your back, matching his movements. His lips found their way to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses along your sensitive skin.

As passion overtook both of you, the tempo increased gradually. The air was filled with soft moans and gasps as Erik's strong arms held you close, driving deeper into your body. You ran your fingers through his hair, overwhelmed by the intense sensations.

"Erik," you cried out as waves of ecstasy began to build inside you. Your body trembled under his urgent movements as he buried his face in your neck, sending shivers down your spine with his hot breath.

"You feel amazing," he groaned, his voice thick with desire.

Your fingers dug into his broad shoulders as the intensity grew, and Erik's lips found your neck, leaving hot kisses along your sensitive skin. You arched your back against his solid chest, unable to hold back your pleasure any longer.

"Oh god, Erik," you moaned desperately.

He responded by increasing his pace, driving you both closer to the edge. The friction between your bodies was almost too much to bear. You could feel yourself on the brink of release.

Erik's ragged breathing and urgent movements pushed you over the edge. "Come for me," he growled in your ear, his desire evident in his husky voice.

Those words were all it took for you to tumble into mind-blowing ecstasy. Erik followed moments later, whispering your name as he found his own release.

You clung to each other, riding out the waves of pleasure together.

His hand moved to your clit, gently rubbing it in slow circles that made you arch your hips up in delight. "E-erik!," you gasped, unable to contain yourself. He silenced you with a tender shush and continued peppering kisses along your neck, marking you as his own.

The pleasure was reaching an overwhelming level, rendering you speechless as your brows furrowed in sheer ecstasy. He wanted to prolong your orgasm, drawing out every moment of bliss. Suddenly, without warning, a surge of release overcame you and you gasped for breath. Erik smirked, pleased with the outcome of his actions. He withdrew from you, leaving a mix of his cum and your juices scattered around.

"Good girl," he whispers, kissing your forehead. As Erik shifts to the side, you snuggle against his chest and feel the quick thumping of his heart. His arms wrap around you, keeping you warm and secure as your breath slows back to a steady rhythm. A sense of deep satisfaction washes over you as you revel in the peaceful aftermath.

- - - - - - -

For a long while, you lay together in contented silence, basking in the afterglow. Erik's fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin as you nestled against his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow. The crackling fire cast a warm glow over your entwined bodies.

"I've missed this," Erik murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Missed you."

You tilted your head up to meet his gaze, seeing a vulnerability there that he rarely showed. "I've missed you too," you whispered. "More than you know."

His arms tightened around you. "I was a fool to let you go," he said, voice thick with emotion. "I won't make that mistake again."

"We both made mistakes," you replied gently. "But we're here now. That's what matters."

Erik nodded, a small smile playing at his lips. His fingers continued to trace lazy patterns on your skin as you lay nestled against him. The crackling fire cast flickering shadows across the room, enveloping you both in warmth and intimacy.

"What happens now?" you asked softly, breaking the comfortable silence.

Erik was quiet for a moment, his hand stilling on your back. "I don't know," he admitted. "Charles left me with an enormous responsibility. The X-Men, the school... it's all in my hands now." His voice held a note of uncertainty you'd rarely heard from him before.

You propped yourself up on an elbow to look at him. "You don't have to do it alone," you said. "I'm here. And the X-Men - they may not trust you fully yet, but they'll support you. It's what Charles would have wanted."

Erik's eyes searched yours, a mix of emotions playing across his face. "You're right," he said softly. "Charles always believed in the power of unity, even when I couldn't see it." He paused, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. "But can you forgive me for the things I've done? The pain I've caused?"

You leaned into his touch, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his voice. "I forgave you a long time ago, Erik," you whispered. "The question is, can you forgive yourself?"

He closed his eyes, a pained expression crossing his face. When he opened them again, there was a determination there that you recognized. "I want to try," he said. "For Charles. For the X-Men. For us."

You smiled, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. "Then that's where we'll start.”

- - - - - - -

glossary: liebling = darling, mein liebe = my darling

[sunofpandora]

 V I R A G O                   

Chapter 4

Neteyam x fem!omaticaya!reader

Nice Going, Romeo

𝓭𝓮𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓵𝓼/𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼/𝓼𝔂𝓷𝓸𝓹𝓼𝓲𝓼/

»»———–➤»»———–➤»»———–

Chapter four synopsis: After years of tension, Y/n and Neteyam have finally made up and have agreed to re-establish their friendship. Because of the chaotic events of the last few days, Y/n hits her breaking point due to all the stress and has an argument with Spider. Meanwhile, Neteyam basks in his lovesick haze.  »»———–➤»»———–➤»»———–➤»»———–➤»»

WARNINGS:

Mentions of a stroke??? (its a joke)/Lo’ak and Y/n being platonic soulmates/ mentions of cutting hair/ mentions of anxiety and grief/ I think that’s it??

Author’s Note

My beautiful readers! Goodness, it's been a  minute hasn't it?? I actually had a lot of fun writing this chapter. D0 you like my new dividers?? I thought the arrows were on theme hehe. Also, they really help space out the details, warnings and synopsis area a lot more so everything up here isn’t so chunky. Comments and reposts are much appreciated as usual.  

☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⁺☀︎₊ ⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊ ⋆⁺𖦹₊⋆⁺☀︎₊

The room is dimly lit, no thanks to the shitty lamp that emanated a sickly shade of yellow on the small bedside table next to Spider’s bunk. 

High camp was silent. The rest of the clan had retired to their homes for sleep. The atmosphere tonight is cinematically melancholy. Thick shadowy mist, like the kind that falls just before a thunderstorm. 

Spider has been sleeping for the last few hours. Water and food kept close by on a tray on the floor. 

So much has happened since the accident. Your intervention with Neteyam, your new appointed position as a teacher, the weight of it all still heavy on your chest.

Neteyam and you had a complicated history to say the least. Your love for him has grown with you. From a child's softly sewed heart, patchwork pieces of moonlight and magic and sweet things. Chasing each other across shin-deep streams and unmeasured mindgames. Innocence unrestrained by a child’s imagination. 

You were a wild child. Unafraid of unruly sensations that snap and scratch at the scarred skin stretched on your bones. You were taller than Neteyam until you were 11, despite him being older. You remember him looking up at you with all the wonder in the world

And then you grew older, shamefully throwing yourself into his arms. 

Within the depths of your bliss, you found a sanctuary with him. Newfound effervescence, two souls choking on their words to describe eachothers beauty. You remember chasing eachother through the forest after sundown, catching the colors caught in the sky,  hues of red and orange bargaining for dominance as the sky stretched into indefinite lengths. 

Liquid glass visions and sweet tasting sunlight, bright orange arrows greedily repel the monochrome traces that perturbed from the daylight hours, 

He swore to you. 

He looked you in your eyes and he swore to you.

He would protect you. No matter what. 

Thoughts of you were sanctified.

He told you he would take you anywhere you desired. 

The disparity in it all was hollow promises.

 You sit up, your ears catching the sound of the blanket that draped across Spider’s body slipping off to the floor.

“You’re awake.”

You wasted no time. You stood up from your sitting spot in the corner to kneel next to the cot he laid on.

He sat up with a groan, his eyes lazily blinking to adjust to the light.

“Hey.”

He whispered, patting your leg.

You cracked a smile, buty it faded when your gaze drifted to his bandages.

“Does it hurt?” You whispered. 

He shakes his head.

“Nah. I think Norm and Max gave me something for pain.”

You nodded, slowly. Shifting to rest on your knees.

He allocated steps of silence for you to rest your words. But for some reason, you couldn’t find them.

It confined itself in your throat. The feverent sting of tears and bronze and venom gathered in dark corners of your heart.

“What?”

You whispered, waiting for him to explain why he was staring so intently.

“I don’t know. You’re quiet. You're shaking. And you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I almost did. Because of your stupid ass.”

He let a rough breath out, glowering in annoyance.

“Y/n. Everything was fine. I fell. You’ve never fallen?”

“Because I had my ass half-hanging out of a broken aircraft? No, actually.”

Your voice textured itself with all the harshness that rewired into carcass of throned fear. The heaviness in your chest is still embedded, sacred and silent but not senseless. 

His gaze tremors in a pattern between you and the floor.

You leaned back, a choked breath leaving your lips.

“Spider, tonight I thought was the last time I’d ever see you breathing.”

He shook his head, trying to reassure you.

“I’m fine. Look at me-

It’s just a few bruises.”

“That’s not the point, dumbass! It could have been worse.”

Spider had nothing to say to that. He reveled in the silence that thickened the air.

“I’m not a little kid anymore. I don’t need you to come to my rescue.”

Those words wound you even more when in his eyes you see he’s debating whether he regrets them or not.

Spider was older than you. And you were always told stories of how your mother saw a child alone in a great big world regardless of whether he was a human or not. It broke her heart.

Growing up, you always threw yourself into fights for Spider.

Refusing to play games with other children that called him names. Learning at the ripe age of 8 how to make sure he had a spare pack whenever he left the shack, and how to hook it up to his mask, thanks to Max and Norm.

You and Lo’ak running through the forest to collect new fruits to use as dye to paint his skin, hoping the  azure streaks and stripes would stain his skin.

It was funny, really. How he was protective of you despite you being the one that was taller, stronger, faster.

You knew spider was grateful for your parents. He loved them like his own. Mourned them so heavily when they left this world and moved on to the next. But you also knew it wasn’t easy.

It wasn’t easy being a human in a clan that was still healing. It wasn’t easy being the son of Miles Quaritch. 

When the world around him seemed like a sword, you became a shield.

A habit you had picked up since childhood. You pride yourself on never mistaking any part of his for weakness.

But how could you not feel solicitous?

When you and your world felt too big, and he looked too small, when even the air denied him to breathe freely?

The ache in your chest is almost firstful, palpable in immediacy of the realization that he had become the sword in this moment.

Your tone clawed and mangled with the pain that was morphing into anger.

“If you don’t want me to rescue you, don’t almost kill yourself.”

You hissed, your mind snatching the sense of guilt from his earlier remark.

He scoffs.

“Oh of course. As usual, you’re the hero and I’m just the human you’re in charge of keeping on a leash.”

“I wouldn’t have to keep you on a fucking leash if you used your brain once in a while.

And what the fuck does that mean?”

Spider sits up a little more, glaring at you.

“You’ve always been perfect. Put a bow and arrow in your hand and the clan thinks you’re some deity from the heavens sent to protect everything that breathes.”

That was unnecessary. And really fucking immature.

“Don’t glorify me. And don’t ever hold my dedication to protect my people against me.”

“No one asked you too! It was all the sudden you were training with Jake. Next thing you know your Lucy the fucking Lutientent or some shit. Would it kill you for once; to not be the hero? Would it kill you to-“

Before he could finish, you snatched the picture on the bulletin board next to some photos Norm and Max had hung up in the shack where spider slept. 

It was a picture of a spider had taped up on the wall when he was a child.

A picture of your mother holding him on her hip, smiling for max behind a camera as he insisted on taking a picture of them. 

The picture hurt you to look at. How young your mother looked. Your mother had always been beautiful. But something about the her glow, evident of her early years of motherhood and healing after the war.

You shoved it into his chest, watching his eyes widen as he scrambled to hold it.

“Would it kill me? It won’t kill me, but this war killed her. So my apologies if I refuse to let it kill you, or anyone else I care about.”

Spider was stunned. He stared at you, his eyes shadowed with regret.

You stood to your feet, mocking his glare from a few seconds ago.

“I know you didn’t ask for this. But guess what? I didn’t either.”

“Y-“

You didn’t even want to hear him speak, much less listen to him berate you about apologizing for a mess you were only trying to fix.

You turned for the door, ducking under the top frame, minding that it was not made for Na’vi to enter and go as they please.

You felt like the floor was being torn open with each step as the feeling of cool wooden metal tiles turned into the grassy patches outside the shack.

You jumped down the steps, grounding yourself both mentally and physically  on the familiar air of the high camp, the night’s scent thick with high emotions and heartache.

The meds Norm and Max gave Spider must have some kind of mind altering drug side effects because he knew better than to raise his tone with you.

You and spider never fought.

Well, that wasn’t true. But when you did, it never got to a point of either of you leaving without resolving it.

You ran your hands through your braids, tugging lightly at the ends.

You wished the night would just swallow you hole, you paced around in a circle, cursing under your breath.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fucking-

Fuck!”

You rasped, reaching for the natural stone wall that encaved high camp. Steadying yourself with deep breaths.

You finally manage to soothe yourself just enough to imagine that entire encounter went much smoother.

Eywa, how you yearned for nothingness at this moment. 

You loved Spider, but sometimes he opens his mouth and suddenly you're one step closer to considering alcoholism.

“Y/n?”

You spin around on your heel, hand instinctively resting on your knife handle, prepared to defend yourself, your stance stiffened, your tail curling protectively around your leg.

“Easy kiddo. It’s just me.”

Jake arands with a hand resting on his waist as he peers down at you. 

You let out a breath you weren’t sure how long you were holding.

“What is it with your family and sneaking up on me!?”

You whisper-yelled, trying not to wake the whole clan.

Jake rubs the back of his neck, his tail swaying awkwardly.

The night air takes a tenor of star-strung sounds that harmonize with the of the imbricating symphonies of pandora’s nocturnal life. 

Jake gestured back to the shack.

“Are you all done there?”

“How long were you standing there?”

You couldn’t help but sound slightly accusatory. You hoped he wasn’t eavesdropping on you and Spider. 

You don’t really want Jake pushing himself where he didn’t belong.

He shrugs.

“About 30 seconds.”

You let out a sigh, running a hand down your neck, the motion an attempted anodyne to calm your nerves.

“What are you even doing here? It’s late?”

You query, tilting your head.

He paused before answering.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay, Y/n. You had one hell of a day.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms.

Were you the happiest with Jake right now?

No. Not really.

Why? Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s because he has been planning on setting you up to train either Makeyo or Neteyam for weeks without informing you. You thought he valued you as a warrior. For your skill. For your courage. For your vigor and vigilance. To be tossed into a position without as much as a warning? Has he lost respect for you? Maybe Spider was right. You were a sword. Forged from fire and bloodshed and grief.

Eywa had to be fucking with you. Why is that when one argument with a sully ends, another one comes from around the corner.

“I’m fine Jake. Neve better.”

Jake sighs, running a hand down his face.

“Y/n, sweetheart, I know I should have told you sooner. I know. But this was my best option.”

“Not even a warning?? Not even a heads up?? the fact that you had already decided I was going to become someone’s teacher before deciding who I was going to teach! You just kept running in between Makeyo or Neteyam.”

Jake looked down for a moment, he had no excuse for why he did it, allowing the regret to inchoate into him.

Your voice was a whisper now. Hoarse and exhausted, contrast to your usual pragmatic approach to speaking with Jake.

He was your superior. The Olo’eyktan of your clan. A leader.

“Do you think I’m not strong enough anymore?”

 Jake shook his head, placing a hand on your shoulder, leaning down slightly.

“Y/n. Listen to me. You are one of the strongest warriors this clan has ever seen. You fight with honor. But you can’t keep throwing yourself into fire over and over again. And if you have to, you’re not doing it alone. If I can get someone with half your skill to support you while you’re in the sky, I’m gonna do it.”

You glared. “So you’re going to assign your son to hover behind me while I fight?”

“Short answer? Yes.”

You let out a huff, feeling yourself getting worked up again.

“I don’t need Neteyam to chaperone me.”

Jake threw his arms up, followed by an over exaggerated sigh.

“It’s less about you being ‘chaperoned’ and more about keeping you alive, Y/n!”

In response? You had nothing to say. All you knew is that you were tired. So, so tired.

Tired of arguing. Tired of the cold glares you had distributed throughout the day. 

Jake sighed, wrapping an arm around you supportively. 

“Sweetheart you look dead on your feet. You need some rest.”

You were silent as Jake walked you across highcamp to Mo’ats tent. 

He pulled back the flap, the smells of grinded herbs and salves, the fresh smell of the wood wafting through the air.

You ducked inside, plopping yourself on the ground.

“Jesus Christ, when’s the last time you slept?”

He crouched down, pressing his palm to your cheek, making you look up at him, 

“I don’t need sleep”, 

you mumbled hissing at him weakly. You collapsed onto the pile of woven blankets that rested in the corner.

He closed the flap behind him, moving some of Mo’at’s supplies out of the way so you could sprawl out.

“You can rest here for tonight. Take some time for yourself. Meditate or something.”

You raised a brow, your ears flicking upwards.

“Meditate?”

“I don’t know, kid. Just do something to calm yourself down.”

Jake walked over to you, tossing a blanket over you and handing you a parcel, wrapped carefully by leaves.

“What’s this?” You murmur, staring down at it.

“Dinner. Don’t think I didn’t notice you skipping tonight’s meal.”

You frowned, not even remembering you were so rushed to meet Spider after your chat with Neteyam, that you completely forgot to eat.

“Well shit…Thank you.”

You held it up, nodding towards him.

He stood up, waving you off.

“Just make sure you eat all of it. You’re not an old lady, and i’m too young to force-feed you like you are one.”

You cracked a smile. You really were grateful for Jake.

“Thank you.” You whispered.

He sat on his knees next to you, adjusting the blanket to drape over your shoulders, patting your back a few times for good measure.

“Are you okay, Y/n? Really, be honest with me, kiddo.”

His voice was softer thai time, laced with concern and honesty. 

You sighed.

“I had an argument with Spider.”

Jake sighed, as if he were relieved.

“Thank god..”

You sat up, confused tp say the least.

“Why is that a good thing?”

“Well I'm just happy it’s that and someone’s not messing with you. I wouldn’t want to have to throw punches.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Please. You know I’d fold anyone anyday.”

Jake gave you a hearty smile, running a hand down your back.

“Damn straight. My money’s on you.”

You chuckled weakly, feeling the tiredness wash over you.

Jake rose to his feet, looking at you one more time before leaving.

“Get some sleep, sweetheart. And eat your damn food.”

☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⁺☀︎₊ ⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊ ⋆⁺ ‏𖦹  ₊⋆⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⁺☀︎₊ 

The next morning…Neteyam’s POV

Have you ever woken up feeling like you could pull the moon out of the sky with your bare hands and gift it to the most beautiful person you had ever seen??? Have you ever woken up feeling like even the smallest of shifts in the wind sang someone’s name?? Have you ever woken up feeling like one singular soul could somehow hold my existence in her palm with such ease?? Have you ever woken up feeling like the air is a bit lighter? Like the sky is a bit brighter?

Maybe it’s just me. But ever since last night..Ever since iv’e earned her trust back, I’ve felt as if I could brivet around the forest like a brainless fool, just basking in the absurdity of this amorevolous haze.

Did I mention she hugged me-??? Just wrapped her arms around me mid of my sentence. Eywa, if she was an ocean I'd drown in her. 

When I woke up this morning, I blinked slowly, allowing the early morning sunrays that filtered through the small open spaces in the woven material to leak it’s light onto me. I stretched my arms above my head, feeling its warmth encompass me.

There was a stupid smile on my face that I wasn’t aware of.

I stare up at the ceiling for a moment. Letting my thoughts drift to the farther corners of my mind. All my burdens and worries slowly follow suit.

“Psst! Teyam! Are you awake??”

I roll over to my side, sitting up a bit, and as I angle myself to rest on my elbows, i’m faced with big golden eyes that could only belong to Tuk.

“Hi Tuk.”

I yawn, trying to clear the hoarseness out of my voice. 

She blinks at me, her tail flicking behind her. The echo of her laughter embodied the lightheaded ecstasy that already embedded its energy into my brain this morning. She yanks the blanket that was covering my legs off of me, tugging at my arm.

“Come on! Mama said it’s time to eat!”

I groan dramatically, humoring her.

“Tuktirey, I don’t think my legs are working-

Oh no, there I go. Gravity’s increasing on me.”

She squeals as I lean forward, letting half my upper body weight hang on her as she holds my limp figure up with her much smaller arms.

“Neteyam! You’re too heavy!”

She whines playfully, attempting poorly tp push me upright again.

I let up after a moment, watching as she squeals with laughter before running to Kiri’s hammock, quickly yanking her blanket away before scurrying to jump on top of a snoring Lo’ak.

I chuckle to myself, folding up my own blanket and leaving it in my now empty hammock as I duck under the divider flap in the tent to distinguish areas with a barrier of sorts. I guess when you’ve had as many kids as my parents have, its better to try and break down a large marui into different quarters.

“Ma’itan, did you sleep alright?” I look  downward to see my mother glancing in between me and the fruit she was cutting up, the juices leaving slight stains on the tips of her fingers.

I sigh, the breath leaving my lips in an accidental dreamily manner. As if i’m caught in a mirage, my steps almost stumble over each other, it’s intractable. As if the light of the morning has transferred into the weight in my movements.

I sit down next to her on my knees. “I'm a great mother, perfect, even.”

She smiles at me, but there's confusion in her gaze.

I don’t think my stupid smile has faded because of the way my father pauses from sneaking his fingers into the bowl of pitcher plant nectar to stare at me. 

We lock gazes and I wave at him, as if it's been days since I've seen him.

“Father, good morning.” I raise two fingers to my forehead, dipping them downwards to form the ‘I see you’ sign. He hesitates to return the gesture, sharing confused glances with my mother.

“Uhm, Good morning. Are you feeling alright, bud?”

My mother and him exchange glances, and with a subtle gesture with a nod of her head, he understands she wants him to check on me. He places a hand on my shoulder, crouching down next to me, switching places with my mother per her silent request.

I shake my head, not being able to suppress the laugh that leaves my chest.

“I’m fine. Really, I feel– amazing. Like…really, really good-”

I paused for a moment as my dad pressed the back of his hand to my forehead.

“You don’t have a fever..do you know where we are right now? Could you tell me our exact location?”

“Ma’jake. He is not ill.”

“Baby, I gotta make sure he’s not stroking out-”

“Oh Jake enough. He is fine.”

My mother swats him away as she sits next to me, taking his place. She hands me a few fruits.

“Ma’itan, will you cut these up for me?”

“Of course mother.” I unsheathe my knife to start my task. I feel sleepless nights and dreams of kissing until I can’t breathe come spilling out of me in wavelengths of sunrays and gold-plaited glimpses. A woven thread that tugs on my heart weaves throughout ragged plains of regret, now lost and forgotten to what I feel now.

My father attempts to sneak more nectar, dipping his finger into the bowl just for my mother to spin around to catch him.

“Eywa help me, Jake how many times have i told you to save some for the children?”

“Not my fault this stuff is so sweet, baby, I could drink this stuff.”

My father throws his hands up in a mock surrender, fighting back a smile.

She throws her head back, a groan leaving her.

“You are infuriating. I cannot turn my back for 2 seconds.”

She stands to her feet to wash off her knife, only for my father to sneak up behind her, snaking his hands around her waist.

“Awh, don’t worry honey, It’s not as sweet as you.” He presses kisses to her cheek, tugging at her tail lightly, a soft gasp leaves my mother’s lips followed my soft laughter,

“Jake- stop, you are sticky.”

Since when was watching my mother and father flirt so heartwarming? 

“Gross. I didn’t know we were having PDA for breakfast.”

The familiar grumble causes me to turn to its source. Kiri trudges through the tent flap, her hair messy and her strides slow and exhausted. She rubs her eyes, clutching a waterskin in her other hand. It was a herbal tea that grandmother made for her frequent headaches. She carried it almost everywhere, especially in the morning.

She practically collapses into a cross-crossed position across from me, staring unamused as my parents pull apart from each other, my dad slowly maneuvering my mothers knife out of her grip.

“I’ll go wash this for ya, hon.” He whispers, giving her one last kiss before he slips out behind Kiri and ducks under the divider, letting the curtain fall behind him as you can hear him faintly telling Lo’ak and Tuk to stop wrestling around and get to breakfast.

My mother clears her throat, trying to suppress her own stupid smile now, victim of my father’s charm.

“Kiri, how did you sleep?”

 Kiri yawns, rebraiding one of the braids that fell on the side of her messily layered hair to frame her face.’

“Well, Y/n wasn’t here so there was no one I could rant to at midnight about the hypocrisy in our culture surrounding our misanthropic beliefs as a clan and the refusal to collate and unwillingness to adapt.”

She takes another sipt out of her waterskin, speaking as if she was explaining how to count to 3.

My mother smiles, clearly pretending to understand her.

“So….you slept well?”

Kiri sighs defeatedly, tying off the braid with the small band in her hand.

“Yes mother, I slept like a baby.”

I find myself snickering at the exchange, I look up to see my father return, Tuk and Lo’ak not far behind him. Tuk was doubled over, trying to support a limp-limbed Lo’ak with her smaller body, he’s mimicking my earlier joke with Tuk,

Noises of annoyance and in need of aid leave her as she struggles under Lo’ak’s weight.

“Lo’ak! You’re too heavy! Neteyam is funny when he does it!” She whines, attempting to push him off of her’

Lo’ak clutches his chest, as if he’s having a heart attack. “Oh eywa! I see the light!” He raises both arms up towards the sky, as if some divine presence was going to scoop him up into it’s arms and take him away.

“Take me, great mother!”

Tuk lets out a scream as Lo’ak tumbles atop her.

“That’s enough, you two. Lo’ak, get offa’ your sister.”

My dad tugs on Lo’ak’s tail, and he hisses in pain.

“Ow! Dad-”

“Sit.”

 My dad gives him a final glare and he sighs, cracking his knuckles before taking a seat next to me. Tuk scrambles next to my dad, nuzzling into his side, sticking her tongue out at lo’ak in a victorious manner.

Lo’ak points his two fingers to his own eyes before pointing them back at Tuk, and a clear ‘this isn’t over’ message is received.

Maybe it’s just my weird sense of peace I've felt all morning, but I attempt to park up a conversation with Lo’ak.

“Good morning baby bro.”

I swing my arm around him, ruffling at his braids. He stills his motion of munching into his slice of fruit, glancing up at me with a confused, cautious stare. As if my odd demeanor was an active minefield.

“Uhm. Hi..”

He side-eyed me curiously. Like my happiness was disgustingly contagious. 

His tail thumped against the floor. His eyebrow raised curiously at my stupid smile.

“What’s got you so bright and cheery?”

He glances over at Kiri, hoping for some kind of backup, only to see her silently praying to eywa before eating her food.

“Nothing. I just woke up feeling good.”

I shrug, snatching a slice of fruit from his little leaf he had arranged his stack of food on. The moment my teeth sink in, I'm slapped with the taste of sugared honey mixed with sunshine and sweet nectars. The flavor is resplendent. An unexpected soft groan leaves me as the juices trickle down my lips, I wipe them with my forearm. Why did everything today taste so much sweeter than usual?

Lo’ak stares at me as if he’s abhorred with my behavior.

“Dude..what the hell.”

My ears flick upwards as I turn to face the rest of the family, who’s now looking at me like I’m the epitome of bizarreness.  

My father snickers, helping Tuk peel her small fruit.

“Neteyam, should we give you and your fruit a moment alone.”

Lo’ak shivers, clearly uncomfortable. “Bro. could you not moan into your food in front of my breakfast.”

I shake my head, some of my braids falling over my shoulders. “Sorry, baby brother.” I laugh, but i’m not really sure why. I feel my face flush as i lean back into my spot.

“Dad, I think Neteyam is stroking out.”

Lo’ak snaps his fingers, trying to gather my father’s attention as he points to me.

My father shakes his head. “I already checked. It’s not a stroke.”

Mother hisses at both of them, passing a cut open fruit to Kiri, who as usual seems unbothered with our family’s shenanigans. 

“Both of you, leave him be. He is happy.”

I can always count on mama. 

Lo’ak shoots me a look.

“Why?”

I shrug.

“Why not? We have food, a family, a roof over our heads, we’re safe and happy, a strong clan and a lovely home.”

The woman I would die for no longer hates my guts. Hey, life is pretty good.

My mother smiles at me.

“See? You are not ill. One who takes time to appreciate all the great mother has given us is not sick.”

Lo’ak doesn’t seem convinced. He takes a big bite of his fruit, slowly eyeing me up and down.

My father clears his throat, sitting up a bit straighter. 

“While I have you kids here, I need you all to try and give y/n a little bit of space today.”

Kiri finally seems to engage in the current conversation now that Y/n is mentioned.

Tuk looks up, as well as my mother, Lo’ak and I.

“Is she okay? Is she sick?”

Tuk pouts, tugging on my fathers arm.

“Does she need anything? Is she hurt?”

It comes out before I can stop myself, trying not to sound too nervous.

Lo’ak groans

“Please don’t tell me she’s dead. That would really suck.”

My dad shakes his head gently reaching for Tuk’s smaller hand.

“No, guys. She’s okay. It’s just that she’s been through a ton these last few days. The poor thing’s burnt out. She needs some rest.”

Silent relief waves over me. I turn to Lo’ak as soon as I hear him speak.

“That doesn’t include me, right?”

He points at himself, a cocky smirk forming on his lips.

My dad glared at him.

“That means especially you. Ever since you could walk I had to pull you away from the poor girl kicking and screaming. And I am NOT about to do it again now that you’re this big. It’s a bad look for me.”

“That just shows we’re not supposed to be away from one another. It’s a sign from eywa. And you know I don’t play with the big lady upstairs.”

Lo’ak presses his lips on two fingers before reaching his hands up as if he’s kissing the sky.

My dad gives him a final warning look before he surrenders.

“Alright, fine. But if you get struck by lightning later it’s not my issue.

I’m gonna go on a walk.”

Lo’ak shoved his food into a small pouch before slinging it over his shoulder.

My mother frowns.

“With half of your breakfast in a pouch? You might as well just finish eating.”

Lo’ak waves her off. “Don’t worry, ma. I got a ton to do today.

I’ll just eat on the go.”

 mother gives him the leave to go, albeit reluctantly.

☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⁺☀︎₊ ⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊ ⋆⁺𖦹₊⋆⁺☀︎₊

Y/n’s pov:

You woke up feeling so much better than yesterday. You and Spider haven’t spoken, but you can live with that for right now.

The only person you’ve spoken to since you’ve woken up is Mo’at. She was in nice company. And you certainly didn’t mind conversations with her.

It was a revitalizing contrast from the rush and endless chaos of of the last few days events, when the world didn’t feel to big, the air didn’t feel weighted, it was days like this you treasured.Today your hands weren’t victim to the relentless grip of your bow, your fingers free from the touch of the end of your arrows, your arms no longer aching from holding your shooting stance. No, today was a day you could drown in the acquiescence of having to do absolutely nothing.

Well, except maybe help Mo’at every now and then, but you hardly considered that physically draining.

You sat in her healing hut, grinding up some herbs as you cozied yourself up in the corner. You hummed one of your mother’s songs, the sound of the stone scratching against the bowl providing an odd backbeat.

Mo’at returned from her morning meetings with the clans healers, a long sigh dragged from her lips as she muttered complaints to herself, sitting down slowly.

You loved how she could make you laugh without effort.

“Something wrong?”

She waved off your concern, starting to gather some of the loose bowls strung around and stacking them in her arms.

“You know Menari??” She glances up at you, her tail flicking behind her.

You nod, a smile creeping up your face.

She sighed with irritation.

“Overmixed the herbs I tasked her with preparing because she was making eyes at Kalun.”

Ah yes, clan gossip. Who better to deliver such scandals than Tsahik herself?

You rolled your eyes, giggling at her exaggeration.

“They’re young, and in love. What else can you ask for?”

“I can ask for her to stop looking up at that scrawny man and do her job.”

You cackled, passing her the freshly grinding paste.

‘

“Awh, now that's not kind.”

She scoffed.

“You know what's not kind? I've seen sticks with more build than him and he still flaunts himself like he’s the prettiest peacock.”

You shrugged, moving on to preparing the next bowl

“At least he has confidence?”

Mo’at waves you off again. 

“When I was your age, I was shut away in my family’s tent speaking with the spirit’s, asking them to guide Eytukan to court me.”

“Oh here we go-”

“I prayed every night, child. I performed rituals and burned sacred plants.”

“Ma’tsahik, you’ve told me this story quite a few–”

She raised her hand, signaling for you to be quiet.

“Hush woman, I am not done.”

You sighed, strapping in for more of her spiritual seance stories.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Good, now where was I?”

“Hm…I think you were at the sacred plants.”

A voice that didn’t belong to you or Mo’at spoke, causing you both to pause.

You turned around, spotting Lo’ak standing at the entrance of the tent, a pouch in his hands and a soft smirk on his face.

He strides his way inside without invitation, plopping himself down next to you and sprawling out his legs as he leaned on you.

You groaned, noyt appreciating being used as a seat.

“Lo’ak, what are you doing here?”

He blinked up at you, like him just throwing himself onto you was the most casual thing he could possibly do.

Which, to be fair, he did so often, it probably was by now.

“Did you really think I would leave you here to endure Grandma’s stories alone?? Of course not. So I brought you food,”

He tosses you the pouch.

“And the gift of my presence.”

Mo’at crosses her arms, staring at him with an unamused manner.

“I could have sworn your father informed me this morning to let Y/n rest, and not be dragged into anymore excursions for today.”

Lo’ak shrugged, munching on a fruit from the pouch that he handed you a half of.

“Y/n doesn’t mind me, besides, you know we don’t stay separated for very long.”

It was true. Ever since you were children, you and lo’ak had practically been a package deal.

Sleeping at each other's homes, not wanting to do anything unless you both could do it together, braiding each other's hair, and swapping and sharing bracelets, necklaces, armbands on the daily.

When Lo’ak was a toddler, he’d have a meltdown every time he had to go home after a day of playing with you.

And to be honest? He was right. You didn’t mind Lo’ak hanging with you today.

He wasn’t stressful when he didn’t want to be. You felt like you could talk to him about almost everything, secrets were rare between you and lo’ak, unless you both were keeping them from other people.

If you were the moon, he was the stars. Scattered across the abyss of the night sky, assuring that the darkness wouldn't be drowned in, dwelling with you in the comfort of nocturnal notions while still providing you the subtle comforts of luminescence.

And whether you both liked to admit it or not, you needed each other.

He was there for you when you mourned your mother and father. He was there for you with a blanket and a hug and some stupid joke to calm you when you woke up in the middle of the night hyperventilating. 

And you were there for him.

You were there when he almost died during his first attempt at iknimiya, calling him stiupid and hugging him until you couldn't breathe because a part of you swore you were about to loose your twin flame. 

And he was here now. Well, he was slouched over you with his legs spread and his arms floundered out. But..he was here.

You nudged hi9m to sit up straight, taking the fruit he offered you.

He spoke between mouth-fulls of munches.

“So, what's up with Kalun? I saw him lugging around a big basket of flowers.”

Lo’ak points with his thumb behind him, gesturing to the bustling clan outside going about with their daily tasks behind the closed tent flap.

Mo’at throws her arms up in exaggeration.

“Eywa, why does he insist on distracting that poor girl from her duties!?”

You weren’t a huge romantic, but you did find it sweet how he found time to bring Menari flowers.

“I think it’s sweet.” You hummed, continuing to grind up the herbs in the bowl.

Lo’ak gagged dramatically.

“Gross. I’m never going to mate with anyone.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Uh huh. Sure you’re not.”

He raised a brow, a challenging expression streaked his face.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Mo’at cuts you both off.

“Nothing. Lo’ak you’re going to have children and a mate because I demand great-grandchildren.”

A bust of a laugh leaves you, and you shove Lo’ak, who now stares at Mo’at in disbelief.

“And who are you to demand that i have kids?”

“The tsahik of this clan.”

You smirk triumphantly, smacking the back of Lo’aks head, earning a hiss from him.

“You’re screwed, bro.”

Lo’ak leans back, sighing dramatically.

“It’s so hard being sexy…I guess everyone wants me.”

It was your turn to gag, clutching your hand lightly around your throat to sell the idea.

“Not everyone.”

Mo’at sighs, as if recalling a memory that could only be one of her fondest.

“You know who everyone wanted? Your grandfather, now that’s a story-“

You and Lo’ak both groaned in sync.

☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⁺☀︎₊ ⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊ ⋆⁺𖦹₊⋆⁺☀︎₊

You and Lo’ak had hung out almost all day inside mo’ats tent. And it was probably the most fun you’ve had in a while. 

Conversations with Lo’ak were always interesting to say the least. But if one thing was for sure, it was that there was no one you could possibly think of that you spoke to the way you spoke to Lo’ak. The two of you confided in one another. That meant now that Mo’at had left for the afternoon, there was nothing stopping you both from listening to each other's ramblings.

You told him a few minutes ago about the argument you had with Spider.

He was disappointed, and hated when you both were fighting, but he agreed that you both just needed some space.

So, he did what he did best.

Cher you up.

He was currently retelling a story that took place while you were away on a hunting trip with Neytiri a few weeks back, causing your absence during the event. Lo’ak clears his throat, continuing.

“So anyways, as she’s tying together her next row of knots, I notice that she forgot to do the loopy thing under the second layer of the armband, right?’

Lo’ak explains, making hand motions to try and create some sort of visual of the weaving motion Tuk was practicing.

You nodded, taking a sip of the tea Mo’at had made you, the smooth wood pressed against the inner of your lips for a moment.

“Uh huh.”

“So, I, being the good brother I am, decide stupidly to help the kid out.”

“Right. I mean, who wouldn't?”

“Exactly! So I tell her, ‘Tuk, that row is crooked’, and she has the AUDACITY to respond with ‘crooked like your haircut?’”

Your laughter vibrates down your body, and apparently it’s contagious because Lo’ak can’t help but cackle as well.

“Don’t fucking laugh you asshole. You’re the one who gave me this half shaved side shit, fuck you.”

He manages the last few words through his heavy breaths in between bouts of laughter.

“For the last time!”

You shriek, shoving him playfully.

“You don’t give an 12 year old a knife and expect them to perfectly cut someone’s hair!”

It seems like almost yesterday you and Lo’ak were hiding in a cave you found in the forest, not far from the clearing your clan resided in before high camp came into play.

You remember it perfectly, your mothers sharpest hunting knife she kept in a basket next to the entrance of your family’s marui along with various other weapons your parents kept out of reach from you and spider. He was sat infront of you on his knees, the backs of this thighs touching his shins while you kept yourself elevated behind him to provide you some sort of extra inches of height to better see Lo’aks head, as if that was going to make you know what the hell you were doing.

It didn’t. You remember him telling you to stop hesitating and just do it. He had been asking you for weeks to help him cut his hair since Jake wasn’t aloud to braid much less cut his children’s hair out of lack of confidence, and how Neteyam thought It was an insecurity thing and only responded with “You look great! There’s no need to cut it, baby bro.”

Neytiri didn’t like the idea of her 12 year old son wearing a style most adult warriors garb themselves with,and kiri just laughed when he asked her. 

You were his best option. You remember you and Lo’ak jumping up and down and squealing with excitement at the sight of a few of his braids falling to the ground, forming a circle around the two of you, and how that excitement slowly faded into fear when you both realized those few braids seemed much chunkier than at first glance. You fondly recall running back into the village with a giant leaf over Lo’ak’s head, making a bee-line straight for your family’s tent because going home to tell jake and neytiri was equivalent to walking into a thantors den after rubbing yourself in fragrant spices ready to be cooked and devoured. 

You could never forget your mothers face as she tried to comfort a frantic lo’ak, using her own tools to smoothe down the shaved plain.

To cut a long story short, that’s how Lo’ak got his side shaved. But it appeared Tuk had taken after your habit of never letting him live it down.

You both were out of breath from laughing once you both finished recalling the memory. It’s the terrible experiences that made you two stronger together.

 Lo’ak sighed, leaning back.

“Tuk’s spending too much time with you. You’re a shitty influence.”

You swatted at the back of his head, snickering softly.

A few beats of comfortable silence falls between you both, enjoying  just the feeling of moments like these.

“So, I’m not sure if I told you, but Neteyam was acting weird this morning.”

Your ears flick upwards at the mention of Neteteyam.

You carefully calculate your next words, attempting to make your curiosity seem as causal as a commodity, inconsequential and free of attribution relating to the feelings exchanged the night before. 

“Oh…was he okay?”

Real discreet, Y/n. Nice work.

Lo’ak paused to look up at you, his gaze cynically, clumsily trying to catch your heavily concealed sense of concern

“He was fine…I guess. I still think he was having a stroke.”

You rolled your eyes.

“He wasn’t having a stroke.”

“You weren’t there Y/n. The man acted like he Ingested 80 tons of helium and practically pranced around the marui. He was moaning into his fruit, and sighing every 2 seconds like he was in a dream or something.”

You scrunched up your nose at the visual of anyone being aroused by a fruit. 

“I’m sure he wasn’t ‘moaning’ into his fruit.”

You waved off the idea, Lo’ak scoffed.

“Uh huh. And the smiling-

Holy shit Y/n. This man would. Not. Stop. Smiling. It was insane.”

Come on, was he serious? Neteyam was fine…there’s no way this could be related to your conversation last night..right?

You gasped dramatically, widening your eyes as if you had the most sagacious epiphany, feigning stupidity for sarcasm. 

“Maybe he was..I don’t know..happy? Is that even possible for neteyam?”

Lo’ak was not amused.

“I’m telling you, something’s up with him.”

You sighed, shaking your head.

“Why would you think that? He’s probably just happy about something personal, maybe he set a goal for himself. Maybe he’s training differently or maybe he finally has that angled dive he’s always wanted to do on his ikran. The move your mom does with her bow? He’s always wanted to do that-“

Lo’ak looks at you like you’ve grown 6 extra tails. Maybe it was because you were rambling about Neteyam too personally. Nah. Maybe you really did grow 6 tails. 

Check just in case.

You cleared your throat, fidgeting with your bracelets. Acting like you weren’t just talking about something  Neteyam told you in private 3 years ago while you too were on a ‘date’ no one knew about. Because you were.

“..or something like that.”

Eywa must have been personally trying to provide you some amorality at that moment when Lo’ak shrugs you off.

“I don’t know. But I feel like if it was really something huge, he would have told his family about it. Right? Like, he doesn’t just keep that stuff from us…”

Point taken.

You placed a hand on his back.

“Look, Lo’ak, I’m sure Neteyam is fine. We all have..weird days, we can’t always be perfect.”

Lo’ak sighed, leaning back, letting his eyes flutter closed.

“You’re right. I mean, at least it’s not about you or some other girl.”

It slowly stings a little bit more each time it plays over and over in your head.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Lo’ak opened one eye.

“What?”

“You said ‘at least it’s not about you’. What does that mean, Lo’ak?”

Lo’ak, (somewhat stupidly, I must admit,) seemed surprised with your offended tone.

“I mean, at least it’s not about you. You know? Like you two aren’t dancing around eachother again.”

“What do you mean, ‘dancing around’ eachother?”

He sighed, rubbing his temple.

“Look, you don’t have to get upset-“

“I’ll decide whether or not I’ll get upset when you explain what the fuck that’s supposed to mean, Lo’ak.”

Lo’ak gulped, silently regretting ever opening his mouth.

“You and him are just…weird?-

No, weird is not the right word.”

You agreed, coldly.

“Clearly.”

He groaned.

“Stop putting me in a bad corner here, Y/n, you know what I mean.”

He was right. You didn’t have to be so harsh with him. You knew Lo’ak had a tough time articulating himself. And you getting angry probably wasn’t going to make that any better.

“Look, I’m sorry. It’s just..you’re so confusing when it comes to what I used to have with your brother.”

You and Lo’ak are both a bit uncomfortable when you say it aloud. It wasn’t very often you confessed to being romantic with Neteyam in the past, even if it was just to yourself. It was hard to face.

“Y/n we don’t have to talk about this, really.”

“No, i think we do.

You don’t like it when Neteyam used to bring me flowers, or take me out to go ride ikrans, or spend time with me, but you were there for me when he started to distance himself from me. All of this shit about ‘oh you can’t court my brother’ but when it finally falls, like any normal person who speaks like that would want it to, all the sudden you’re in the heartbreak hot seat with me. What is going on, Lo?”

Lo’ak was quiet for a Minute. And it’s actually kinda funny how he conducted himself in a similar manner to Jake when things like this happened.

“Because I care.”

“About what!?”

“About you!”

You were quiet for a moment.

“Because I should care when you start to love, or like or feel for someone! Because you’re like a sister to me. Because you’re the one I can come to when I fuck up with my dad or feel like I’m screwing everything up. You’re the one I can come to when the others are giving me a bunch of shit about being Neteyam’s perfect little brother, or whatever.

And yes, it’s so fucking weird to see my brother staring at you like you’re the most important thing on this entire planet. But you know what? It makes you happy. Am I gonna give you and Neteyam shit about it? Of course I am! It’s fucking disgusting. But you know what? It makes you both happy. So I can’t do a damn thing, and I don’t want to.

Am I gonna wanna kick his ass when he screws up? Of course I am. Am I gonna sit next to you and listen to you cry and scream and do all that angry relationship stuff that people do? Abso-fucking-lutely I am.

But you’re both still disgusting and full of love diseases.”

And now it all made sense. Lo’ak was your person. Half your heart in the form of a living soul.

To feel someone in such truth it aches.

And it wasn’t romance. It wasn’t sex or lust. It was a different kind of love.

The kind that meant that you could share a hammock with him and fight every urge not to kick him off when he starts to snore. The kind that meant you were the only one who trusted to braid his hair because neytiri wasn’t gentle enough and Jake was out of the question. The kind that meant that you had his back, and he had yours. 

You were his and he was yours. Sentiments are sensitive and romance is rigged but this went beyond fairytale endings.  Because you knew he would always stand next to you, tangled at the roots. And when the world seemed to be made out of nothing but unkept promises and sterling stained heartbreak, rusting off to a sickly shade of green that once shimmered gold, you found him.

And he was stupid and you loved him and his stupid stupidity that often led him to do stupid things, and of course you would always do them right along with him because he always said he didn’t want to die looking dumber than you. 

And if he asked you to loose your fucking mind with him you’d agree in a heartbeat with an extra pouch of food because he was always hungry. 

You smiled, the intangibility of this beautiful mess of a thing that only you two could create echoed through the air pulsing undercurrent that inhabited the stars that now turned a thousand shades of blue.

“Oh Lo’ak.”

You whispered, the endnotes query themselves upon pity.

“I know you care. But I can protect myself.

I thought that you’d know that better than anyone.”

He nodded, fidgeting with the bracelet that matched you’re own

“You’re right. I know. I’m just not ready to be..I dunno. It’s sounds stupid as shit but, alone?? That’s weird, right?”

“No, of course not. You’re not alone. You’ll always have me. But you don’t have to take every shot for me. That’s a job for my mouth and my fists.”

You smiled, mocking the boxing stance Jake had taught you and punching the air.

Lo’ak looked nauseous. “Y/n. Can we stop talking about your relationships and jobs you do with your hands and your mouth?”

You snickered shoving him.

“You’re so stupid.”

“I get it from you.”

A comfortable silence settled as he leaned his head on you’re shoulder. But there was something drumming at the back of your mind. An unfinished note that would

complete the song.

You sighed.

“Lo’ak, you know how we don’t keep secrets?”

He nodded, not bothering to lift his head.

“Yuh huh.”

“Well..I uh.”

You took a breath, gathering your words and placing them in the right order.

“I talked with Neteyam last night. And I hugged him-

I don’t know why I hugged him. There’s nothing going on but we’re all good now with what happened all those years ago. The past is in the past and I just thought you would know.”

Lo’ak was quiet for a moment.

“Aight.”

‘Aight’? That’s all you get?

“Really? That’s it?”

“Well, it’s disgusting, but as long as you two aren’t canoodling-“

“Trust me. I’m his teacher now. There will be no canoodling. I swear it.”

Lo’ak shrugged, his expression neutral. 

“Then my final verdict is in place. No getting pregnant and nothing below the waist.”

You snorted.

“You’re the boss.”

Another beat of silence settled.

Then, you got an idea.

“You wanna go race ikrans?”

A hint of mischief in your voice, he sighed.

“I’m off flight privileges for 2 more days for that stunt I pulled at the raid.”

You frowned, but it didn’t last long.

“You wanna go on a ride on Kailo? I’ll let you take shotgun.”

“Fuck yeah.”

☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⁺☀︎₊ ⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊ ⋆⁺𖦹₊⋆⁺☀︎₊

Memes from this chapter

And some Lo’ak and y/n memes bc they’re besties

Authors note:

*in Backstreet Boys voice* ohmahgod we’re back againnn. 

First things first, I owe you all a huge apology. This chapter is way overdue, since I decided to re-write it halfway through like an idiot. But I’m fairly happy with how this turned out, which is rare for me. I’ve been a surf trip for the last few weeks and this summer I’m going on a lot more so that’s been kinda tough to find time to write on a laptop coming home from the beach all sandy and wet. 

But we’re back and the next few chapters will be written in close proximity to this time wise. I’m leaving the country on July 27 so I’m gonna try to get at least one more long chapter out before then. 

This is getting kinda long. But guys I have so much fun writing from Neteyam’s pov. The first time I wrote for neteyam was like 2 chapters ago and I was so so nervous about posting it bc I thought it sounded so cringe but you guys loved it so much, I’ve decided from now on there’s gonna be a neteyam pov in every chapter.

For these of you who know, Lo’ak is my son, my baby, my child, my pride and joy so obviously writing for him is also super fun. 

Okay this is getting so much longer than I planned. But I’ll see you lovelies next time!!

-Solana

Taglist 🪐🌑🪻 

@mntx666

@isnt-itstrange @thebestrouge

@bay7let

@fairuzwhat

@jackiehollanderr

@6423btw

@satesatesate2009

@OstargirlO

@heavenlysstuff

@dayyzlol

@iheartamajiki

@fluorynn

@bakugouswaif

@eljaynosine-triphosphate

(I just realized how long this taglist is getting guys…it’s actually getting me all teary eyed. Tysm for the support!)

[doumadono]

Warnings: blood, mentions of decomposition, violence, mental & physical abuse, toxic relationship, gore, nakedness, merman!Dabi, female original character, original characters, descriptions of murders and drowning, smut (p in v, oral - f & m receiving), manipulation

Summary: Miyaka, a young woman driven to the brink by a domineering and aloof husband, resolves to end her life in the lake near her husband's estate. Little does she realize that one quaint encounter will irrevocably alter everything, reshaping her understanding of herself, and blurring the boundaries between reality and the inexplicable

Word count: circa 12.1k A/N: I'm delighted to have had the opportunity to take part in this captivating even created by talented @candycandy00 It was my maiden voyage into the world of horror writing, and I genuinely hope that you find my contribution enjoyable. A huge shoutout to my merman specialist, @crystalwolfblog – her unwavering support and expertise were instrumental in shaping this story!

It was an enchanting night.

She stood at the edge of the great lake, its inky waters reflecting the dim glow of the moon like a mirror tainted with despair. Her heart, heavy with the weight of an unhappy marriage, throbbed in her chest, matching the rhythm of her labored breaths. Tears welled up in her eyes, and a lump formed in her throat as she gazed into the blackness of the abyss before her.

The night was eerily silent, save for the distant croak of a lone frog and the rustling of leaves in the chilling breeze. She shivered, not from the cold, but from the darkness that had consumed her entire life. A long, white, flowing dress clung to her trembling form, a stark contrast to the beauty of the night. It felt like a shroud of misery, concealing the bruises and scars that marred her body.

She had been married to a man she loathed, a man who had wed her solely for her parents' substantial dowry. He was possessive, controlling, and violent, and every day with him was a torment she couldn't escape. As she looked down at the scars on her palms, she could hear his voice in her mind, venomous and cruel. "You're mine, and you'll do as I say," he would snarl, his eyes filled with a possessive rage that chilled her soul.

Tonight, as she stood by the lake, she knew she had reached the precipice of her despair. The moon's silver rays bathed the water in an eerie glow, and she found herself muttering out loud, as if trying to rationalize the unthinkable. "I can't go on like this," she whispered to the inky depths before her, her voice a hollow echo in the night. "There's no escape from this torment, no end to the pain he inflicts upon me."

Her fingers brushed against the bruises on her neck, a painful reminder of her husband's merciless grip. The darkness seemed to envelop her, offering a macabre solace, a release from the relentless agony that had become her life.

A sense of dread washed over her as she took a step closer to the water's edge, the lake beckoning with a malevolent allure. She could hear the echoes of her own pleas for help, trapped within the walls of her loveless home. She had no one to turn to, no one to confide in, for he had isolated her from all those who cared about her, even though there weren't many of them.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, and sobs wracked her body. The weight of her misery threatened to drag her under, deeper into the cold abyss. Her mind was a whirlwind of torment, and she continued to speak her sorrow aloud. "I just want the pain to stop," she murmured, her voice quivering. "I want freedom from this living nightmare."

Meantime, claws, like daggers forged in the abyss, pierced the tender flesh of the fish, snapping it asunder with the ease of breaking brittle twigs. Delicate bones shattered, their lamenting cracks akin to dried leaves crumbling beneath a malevolent force, as the ichor of life spilled forth in crimson tendrils, vanishing into the dark, ravenous depths. Razor-edged teeth, like shards of obsidian, tore through the delicate meat, rending it into fragments devoured by the insatiable monster.

This lake, embraced by a shroud of old woods, lay in proximity to a quiet city, a deceptive guise for an ideal feeding ground, or so it would seem. Elders strolled along its shore, seeking solace in the serenity of its waters, while children harbored dreams of frigid immersion, and clandestine encounters found their haven amidst the trees. Yet, the reality proved far bleaker.

Touya had ventured here in the hopes of a bountiful feast, having expended immense effort to navigate a subterranean passage connecting the vast expanse of the open sea to this secluded lake. His rewards were meager, a pitiful array of minuscule fish, native to these forsaken waters.

Resting on the lakebed, his lithe form culminating in a shark-like appendage, he contemplated a return to the boundless sea, where sustenance was plentiful. However, his sharply pointed, fin-like ears detected a peculiar disturbance, both auditory and visual.

The cacophony of a loud splash rent the silence, an intrusion too substantial for a mere fish or woodland creature's leap. Touya's senses honed in on the source, identifying an anomaly—an unmistakable human presence.

Swiftly, he propelled himself towards this enigma, only to discover a form cloaked in a long, flowing white gown, gradually succumbing to the lake's murky abyss. Drawing nearer, he seized the delicate ankle, hauling the figure closer for examination.

Fortuna's fickle favor had delivered a woman into his grasp, and while the prospect of her tender flesh stirred his primal hunger, an audacious notion overcame his instincts. The thrill of an encounter akin to a true siren's seduction beckoned, and the notion of her consumption transformed into a sinister game.

Against his ravenous desires, Touya encircled the fragile woman's frame with his sinuous arms, drawing her from the water's embrace onto the shore, where the macabre performance of a siren's sinister plan would soon commence.

As she splashed and struggled in the water, her vision blurred with panic. Her arms flailed wildly, and she gasped for air, unaware of what had caught her beneath the surface. Each thrash seemed to pull her deeper into the dark abyss, and the murky water filled her mouth easily, making her gag and sputter.

She couldn't see what had a hold of her, but the sensation of strong arms wrapping around her fragile body only heightened her fear. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her lungs burned for oxygen as she continued to fight against the unseen force.

Desperation set in, and she opened her mouth to scream, but instead, she inadvertently swallowed more water. It flooded her throat and rushed into her lungs, choking her, a burning sensation filling her pharynx and nose. The world around her grew dimmer, and her struggles weakened as her consciousness waned.

In the end, the water won, claiming her as its own. She slipped into unconsciousness, her body limp.

The beast, concealed beneath the watery veil of his domain, observed her futile resistance with a dispassionate eye. In the realm of aqueous shadows, humans were like vulnerable prey, their minds adrift in a soporific stupor. Submerged in liquid depths, they became rabid creatures confined within a cage of their own making, drawing ever nearer to the precipice of their demise with each gasping breath.

In a stroke of providence, the woman in his grasp surrendered to the dark embrace of unconsciousness. Her unconsciousness spared him the ordeal of wrestling with her thrashing form. It was a mercy he granted her, one she should consider herself fortunate to receive, for he had contemplated a far less compassionate fate.

With a grace befitting a creature of his nature, he transported her limp form to the water's edge, a sanctuary where the forest's tender grass merged with the lake's sandy shore. Touya did not deign to change his form, instead choosing to remain perched beside her prone body, a silent sentinel.

Reclining with his tail coiled comfortably, his scrutinizing gaze fell upon the woman's fragile form. Despite the dark blemishes that adorned her skin like aged spots upon a ripened fruit, her flesh beckoned like an illicit delicacy. The mere thought of sinking his serrated teeth and razor-sharp claws into her tender form sent his mouth awash with anticipation. He yearned to hear her cries of agony, to witness the crimson cascade of her life's essence, to observe the last flicker of vitality extinguish from her eyes as he ravaged her insides.

Yet, in a rare moment of restraint, the monster resisted the primal urge. No, he would savor this encounter, extracting a different form of pleasure if she were to awaken, for the thrill of her torment held a dark allure all its own.

Coughing violently, she jolted back to consciousness, her body wracked with spasms as the water that had filled her lungs was expelled with each hacking cough. It felt like her chest was on fire, and every cough sent painful ripples through her body.

For a moment, she struggled to sit up, her vision still blurred and her head pounding. She couldn't see clearly, but she had a distinct feeling that she was not alone. Panic gripped her again as she realized that someone or something was nearby.

Her coughs soon subsided, and she took ragged, shallow breaths, trying to clear the lingering water from her airways. Her gaze finally focused, and she saw it – a creature unlike anything she had ever encountered.

It sat beside her, its sharp features illuminated by the faint moonlight filtering through the trees. Its eyes, piercing and predatory, had turquoise irises with black sclera, a striking and unusual combination, creating an otherworldly appearance. The turquoise color itself was vibrant, reminiscent of the clear, tropical waters of a pristine ocean. Its gaze was fixed on her. Its body was a grotesque blend of human and sea creature, with scales and fins that seemed to shimmer in the dim light.

Terror coursed through her as she realized she was not in the safety of her own world anymore. She had been pulled into a nightmare, and this creature, this beast, was surely about to kill her.

She scrambled back, away from it, her heart pounding in her chest. Her voice trembled as she stammered, "W-who are you? What do you want from me?" But deep down, she feared that she already knew the answer.

As she desperately attempted to crawl through the grassy-muddy ground, every movement felt like a relentless struggle against the unforgiving terrain. The thick mud clung tenaciously to her hands and knees, making progress slow and arduous.

Eyes, vibrant and eerily alive, remained fixed on her every frantic movement. Yet, the pallid form that lay behind her, marred by ominous, dark splotches, remained immobile, preserving its enigmatic stillness until the woman's frenetic struggles yielded to silence.

A hand, adorned with webbed membranes that stretched sinuously between each finger, terminated in formidable claws. It moved through his own hair, a short cascade of pristine white, like freshly fallen snow. An insidious smile played upon his lips, revealing rows of serrated teeth that glistened malevolently in the dim light. His ears, akin to the finned appendages of some abyssal creature, possessed two sharp points and twitched slightly as he cocked his head in contemplation. "Is this how you extend gratitude to your savior?" His voice, a beguiling cadence that rivaled the most enchanting melody, seemed ill-fitted for his grotesque form. Yet, it was a weapon, not an adornment, a reminder that he wielded both power and allure. "One should exercise greater caution around these waters, miss. The prospect of losing one's life so recklessly hardly seems appealing."

The sight of her futile attempt to flee stirred a perverse pleasure within him. He found himself increasingly torn by his own plot, yet its wheels were set in motion, and he felt compelled to carry it to its conclusion. "Are you unharmed, miss? Do you feel any pain?" The inward cringe he felt at his unexpected benevolence clashed with his innate siren pride, an unsettling dissonance that inexplicably satisfied him.

The shock of hearing the creature speak, its voice so mesmerizing and soft, took her aback for a moment. She struggled to regain her confidence, her voice quivering as she managed to stammer out a question again, "W-What are you?"

As she continued to tremble, she finally collapsed onto her still-muddy knees. The weight of despair and desperation bore down on her, and she found herself confessing her dark intentions, her voice heavy with anguish, "I... I wanted to end my life."

She couldn't fathom why she had confessed her merciless plan to end her own life to this strange water creature. It felt surreal, as if she had already crossed into some sort of hellish realm beyond the realm of the living. Perhaps she had succumbed to the deadly water filling her lungs, and this creature was nothing more than a manifestation of her fractured mind.

But despite the uncertainty and the eerie circumstances, a part of her clung to the hope that maybe, just maybe, this encounter held some deeper meaning.

End her own life? He understood all too well that humans were, in his estimation, pitiful and often nothing more than a source of sustenance. However, this act was a new level of wretchedness, a lamentable display that played perfectly into his hands. It would grant him effortless dominion over her fragile psyche, cloaked in a deceptive veneer of benevolence, free from the shadow of his true nature. It promised to be a game as simple as toying with a child's plaything.

Touya edged closer, his movements constrained only by the limits of his domain. His cold hand, pallid and adorned with menacing claws, extended toward her own, long fingers encircling her palm with a touch that grazed her skin like a whispered threat. "End your life? Miss, how could you contemplate such a tragic act?" His voice, like the sweetest of lullabies, dripped with feigned empathy. "A woman of such exquisite beauty, extinguishing her own light — it would be a grievous loss to the world."

The sole witnesses to this deceitful charade were the moon, whose silvery glow bathed the lake and the encircling dark forest, and the enigmatic veil of night. The woods formed an impenetrable barrier, a divide between his aquatic realm and the distant human settlement, lending an illusion of sanctuary. This tableau, a fusion of darkness illuminated by the radiant moon, resembled a masterpiece plucked from the realm of the surreal, gracing the place with an eerie charm.

Her body shivered, not just from the cold but from the sensation of the creature's wet hand with its sharp claws closing around hers. It was an eerie feeling, like a surreal dream that she couldn't wake up from. The moonlit darkness around her only added to the strangeness of the moment.

The creature's soothing voice seemed to be at odds with the sharpness of its claws, and she couldn't help but feel a mix of fear and fascination in the beast's presence. Everything about this encounter defied logic and reason, and she was desperately seeking some semblance of understanding in this bizarre situation. "What are you?" she asked once more, her voice trembling as she stared into the creature's captivating turquoise eyes. "Am I... am I dead?"

Touya tenderly clasped her hand, his fingers exploring the contours of her skin and the supple muscles beneath. An insidious hunger stirred within him, and he battled the overpowering urge to sink his teeth into her soft flesh.

Instead, he brought her delicate palm to his lips, where his tongue languidly traced a sinuous path across her skin. A shiver of desire coursed through him as he inhaled the intoxicating fragrance that clung to her, an aroma as sweet and irresistible as the most alluring of temptations. "I believe you are quite alive, miss," he purred, his voice a seductive whisper. "One cannot be considered dead while radiating such warmth."

Horrified and disgusted by the creature's unsettling actions, she finally found her voice and strength. With a shudder, she forcefully withdrew her hand from the creature's grasp, her face contorted in a mixture of revulsion and fear. "What are you?" she demanded, her voice trembling with a newfound determination. The earlier feeling of hope had been tainted by the creature's disturbing behavior, and she needed answers more than ever. She was no longer willing to tolerate the enigmatic presence of the creature without understanding the truth of its nature.

A pair of luminescent, cerulean eyes bore into her with an eerie intensity, even as the monstrous figure let out a low, mocking laugh. He unfurled his form, revealing a pale body adorned with enigmatic dark markings and a magnificent tail that shimmered like a sinister jewel beneath the moon's ghostly radiance. "Is it truly so challenging to discern, miss?" he taunted, his voice a silky, melodious cadence. "I am a water-dwelling creature, inhabiting these very depths. You seem remarkably ungrateful - I saved your life, and not a word of thanks graces your lips."

The sudden audacity displayed by the woman intrigued him. It was a peculiar sight to behold — someone who had sought to end their own existence, now attempting to assert dominance as if he were the lesser of the two. He harbored a morbid fascination for this unfolding drama and was more than willing to indulge her in this charade.

As she shivered in the coldness of the night, her mind raced with conflicting emotions. The creature's words were unsettling, yet there was a grain of truth in what it had said - it had saved her from her own desperate act, and she couldn't deny that fact.

Swallowing her fear, she decided to pursue the conversation further. "I... I appreciate that you saved me," she stammered, her voice still shaking. "But I need to understand. What's your name? Do you even have one? And why did you intervene? I didn't want to be saved, that's not what I hoped for."

"You may call me Touya," he acknowledged with a nod, bestowing upon her a disarming smile that revealed a row of dangerously sharp teeth. "I am, by nature, a siren, and you, dear miss, have disrupted the tranquil harmony of my lake. At first, I assumed it was some unsuspecting creature taking an ill-fated plunge, but when my eyes fell upon a human as resplendent as yourself, I simply couldn't ignore the spectacle."

He offered this explanation in a voice as smooth as velvet, its mellifluous tones designed to insinuate themselves into her fragile psyche. Touya typically employed this beguiling cadence to lure unsuspecting individuals into the water, but in her case, he sought to quell her anxiety and delay her inevitable flight. "I dare say, fortune itself must be watching over you," he continued, his voice dripping with a honeyed reassurance. "For you have chosen to cast yourself into these depths, and in that choice, you've affirmed the value of life, young miss."

She remained silent, her shock and bewilderment apparent in her wide eyes as she stared at Touya. She blinked several times, as if trying to convince herself that this surreal encounter was real.

Her formerly white dress, now covered in mud and grass, clung to her body, the once pristine fabric marred by her ordeal. Some marine flora had found its way onto the dress as well, further adding to the disarray of her appearance. Her hair was a tangled mess, damp from her recent struggle in the lake. The soaked material of the dress offered little concealment, and her perky breasts were subtly visible through the fabric.

The woman struggled to make sense of it all, torn between the desire to flee from this creature and the nagging feeling that there was something soothing about his presence.

The woman's bewilderment bore a certain charm, and Touya couldn't help but relish the success of his beguiling voice. Seizing the opportunity, he inched closer to her until he was positioned right beside her, his attention now devoted to the delicate task of untangling debris from her disheveled hair. "I hope you don't find it intrusive, but might I inquire about your name, miss?" he asked, his voice a soothing melody, while he carefully plucked remnants from her tangled locks. "I find myself quite intrigued by the enigma I've just rescued."

His gaze wandered to her, swiftly detecting the telltale marks that marred her neck — a grim testament to the assailant who had been thwarted in their pursuit. With a possessive glint in his eyes, he whispered softly, his fingers lightly grazing her throat as he voiced his observation, "It seems someone has inflicted harm upon you."

"My name is not important," she replied with a distant, haunted look in her eyes. "I've been called so many slurs, I almost forgot my own name."

As Touya got closer, her senses were alarmed, and she instinctively got up, her stained attire a mess as she attempted to improve her appearance. She felt a mixture of fear and unease in the presence of this enigmatic creature.

Suddenly, a male voice came from afar, calling out for Miyaka. 

She gasped, her heart pounding as she recognized the voice of her husband. The very mention of her name sent a chill down her spine, and she knew that her desperate escape had not gone unnoticed. Panic washed over her, and she turned to Touya, her voice trembling. "I need to go now," she said urgently. "I have to go."

And with that she simply ran away, stopping twice to look back at the merman over her shoulder. Soon yet, she vanished in the woods.

Touya felt the embers of his anger smoldering within him, stoked by an ever-growing hunger, especially after the tantalizing taste of her skin.

With a frustrated growl, he retreated back into the murky depths of the lake, cursing himself for the absurd notion that had briefly gripped him.

The embrace of the cold water swiftly quelled his rising temper. As he sank to the lake's bottom, he contemplated how best to reclaim the woman he refused to let slip from his grasp.

_____________________________

Over the following days, Touya employed his hypnotic voice, weaving a mesmerizing aria to beckon her back to the waters. It did ensnare a lost, young soul, but not the one he so fervently desired. Nevertheless, the young girl, enticed by his enchantment, undressed and ventured into the chilling embrace of the lake a few nights later.

That was the moment he seized.

As the girl floated on her back, lost in the tranquility of the lake's surface, a sinister force latched onto her ankle, yanking her beneath the water's surface.

Desperation and fear churned within her, and she thrashed wildly, her outstretched hands clawing at the surface, futilely struggling against the monstrous grip. A pale hand, equipped with menacing claws, clamped onto her slender ankle, sealing her grim fate as prey to a relentless kelpie.

He held her under until her struggles ceased, ensuring her life was extinguished before allowing himself to retrieve the lifeless body.

With an eerie detachment, Touya surveyed his gruesome feast. He tore into her flesh, devouring the most succulent portions and discarding what he deemed unworthy. Each organ yielded a delectable, squishy texture, untainted by the ravages of time and human indulgence. 

But the heart, that was his ultimate indulgence. Delving for the heart was always a pleasure for Touya, akin to prying open a clam. He reveled in the visceral experience — ripping through flesh, unveiling the rib cage formed from robust bones that snapped like dry twigs under his unrelenting grasp. Inside lay the heart. Sinking his teeth into the still-beating organ was akin to prying open a precious pearl encased within the ribs, the bones cracking like brittle twigs beneath his formidable grip.

Having sated his appetite by consuming the choicest portions, he discarded whatever seemed unworthy, flinging it aside. Seated beside the lifeless body on the bottom of the lake, he seized the hand, twisting it until the elbow joint surrendered with a gruesome pop. The skin tore haphazardly, leaving jagged edges adorning the amputated limb. Now he could relish the taste of human flesh as he bit into it.

This grotesque repast sustained him for the next few days, casting a pall of momentary satisfaction over his insatiable hunger. All that remained were bones, some still intact while others lay shattered, along with soiled garments and scattered remnants of meat.

Yet, he didn't forget about the girl named Miyaka. He toiled tirelessly to entice her back to the lake, driven by an unrelenting determination to make her his own once more.

_____________________________

Her husband was furious at her attempt to escape, and his anger had escalated to violence. The evening had been unbearable, her husband's rage unleashed upon her for daring to defy him and attempt to escape. He had scolded and hit her, his anger leaving her bruised and terrified. As a punishment, the man decided to confine her to a cramped guest bedroom in their shared, or rather his exclusive, house.

The memories of her near escape and her encounter with Touya, the merman, haunted her constantly. She longed for the soothing presence of the lake, where she had briefly found respite from her torment.

One evening, as the sun began to set and darkness crept over the land, she heard a faint, melodious voice carried by the evening breeze. It was distant, yet unmistakable. The voice belonged to Touya, the merman who had saved her life just a few days prior. The sound seemed to come from afar, but Miyaka was more than sure of its origin.

Miyaka cried throughout the day and night, her tears eventually lulling her to sleep in her cramped confinement. And there, in the depths of the night, the magical, soothing voice of Touya returned to her. Sometimes she would shake off the feeling, trying to rationalize that it was impossible for her to hear his voice from so far away. But in the lonely darkness of her captivity, she began to dream about the merman, his appearance simultaneously dangerous and alluring. His presence in her dreams became a lifeline, a glimmer of hope in her otherwise bleak existence.

One night, Miyaka decided to try her luck as their maid forgot to lock her in the bedroom after bringing her supper. The nights had become colder, and she threw a light coat over her shoulders, concealing her black dress beneath. Tiptoeing downstairs, she could hear her husband engaged in a conversation with his friends who had come to visit. Luck seemed to be on her side as she also heard the clinks of glasses, most likely filled with sake – it meant her husband wouldn't notice her leaving the house.

Quietly sneaking through the corridor, she closed the front door gently behind her. The cool night air filled her lungs, and a smile crept onto her lips – she felt free again.

Suddenly, a female voice emerged from the darkness on her left. "You shouldn't be seeing him, he's a demon," it cautioned. It was their maid, an old lady named Yuki.

Miyaka frowned and replied, "I have no idea what you're talking about. I just need to take a walk. I can't function like this."

Yuki sighed, her eyes filled with concern, and she moved closer, holding some logs in her hands. She reached out and gently placed one hand on Miyaka's shoulder. "My child, stay away from that lake, it's a cursed place. Many souls were lost there, long forgotten by this world. Don't let your sadness and loneliness drag you there, to that hellish place."

Miyaka shook the hand of the older woman off her shoulder. "Please stop, Yuki-san. I'm a grown-up, and I know how to take care of myself. I've been there many times before, and I've never seen or heard anything unusual," Miyaka lied smoothly. "People often concoct unusual stories, usually to frighten children away from venturing there on their own, to prevent accidents or drownings. And don't tell my husband you saw me."

Yuki let out a deep sigh, her eyes carrying a sadness that seemed to weigh her down. "You're making a mistake, my child."

But Miyaka wasn't listening anymore. She was already running towards the lake, as if some strange, invisible force was pushing her towards it.

Touya's throat felt raspy as he completed his haunting melody. A gnawing doubt crept in, questioning the worth of straining his vocal cords for the sake of a pitiful human.

With an irritated growl, Touya glared at the moon before submerging himself back into the water. He couldn't help but feel frustrated that the woman hadn't been devoured when she first plunged into the lake; it seemed like that was her intention after all. Yet, the irresistible urge to play with human pathetic life had taken precedence.

As he rested on the lake's bottom, he patiently waited, a glimmer of hope in his heart that perhaps she had at last heard his enticing voice, sparing him the need to actively seek her out once more.

Miyaka finally arrived at the lake, the moon casting an eerie glow over the surrounding woods. The night was heavy with a sense of foreboding, the tall trees looming like silent sentinels in the darkness. The lake, approachable through a narrow path in the woods, shimmered like a dark mirror, its surface reflecting the cold, distant stars.

As she crouched near the water, her fingers trembling, she tapped the surface with her fingertips, whispering his name in a hushed, desperate tone. Her heart pounded in her chest, and a chill ran down her spine. The air seemed thick with an unnatural stillness, as if the very forest held its breath, waiting for something to happen.

Miyaka's feelings were a tumultuous mix of fear and longing. She had been drawn here by an inexplicable force, a connection she couldn't explain. Her mind told her to flee this eerie place, to return to the safety of her husband's house, but her heart and soul yearned for something else, something she couldn't quite comprehend.

As she continued to call out to him, the water remained still, and a sense of dread settled over her. In the heart of the night, in the midst of the haunted woods, she was about to confront a reality she could never have imagined.

A shock of white hair emerged from beneath the water's surface, followed by a pair of radiant blue eyes that observed her with an eerie, almost otherworldly glow, resembling the lost flames of souls.

So she had returned! The woman had willingly walked back into the snare that would ultimately lead to her demise. It was a stark testament to the foolishness of humans, their vulnerability to the allure of his voice despite their long-standing awareness of water creatures like him. Truly, their ignorance was nothing short of pathetic.

As the woman extended her hand into the water, he gracefully swam closer and gently enveloped her hand with his own, guiding it beneath the water's surface just enough to plant a delicate kiss on the top of her palm. To her, it likely appeared as a customary human gesture, but for him, it was an opportunity to savor her essence once more, and she tasted exquisite.

He released her hand and revealed his full form to her. "You've returned, miss," he stated calmly. "I thought you were too frightened of me to come back."

When her hand dipped into the water, she felt a gentle pull, and her breath caught as the merman's lips pressed against the top of her palm. It was a fleeting gesture, one that she perceived as a kind human custom, but the sensation sent shivers through her.

As he let go of her hand, she finally saw him in his entirety. He revealed himself to her, and she was spellbound by his otherworldly appearance. His words reached her ears, and she couldn't help but respond, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and fascination. "I... I couldn't stay away," she admitted, her gaze locked on his mesmerizing eyes. "I don't understand what's happening, but there's something about you that draws me back, despite my fear."

"Oh? Is that so?" He mused with a hint of curiosity. Without further ado, he gracefully submerged beneath the water's surface without unnecessary words.

Miyaka watched with a mixture of fascination and trepidation as he hummed and disappeared beneath the water's surface. Her heart pounded in her chest as she waited for his return, her mind awash with questions and a growing sense of unease.

She couldn't help but wonder what secrets lay hidden beneath those dark, mysterious waters.

Touya emerged from the murky water just a moment later, but there was something different about him this time.

Instead of his tail, Touya was now standing on his own two legs. His body was strong, but his skin was pale with dark purple splatters all over it. He sighed deeply, running a hand through his wet hair.

Then he turned to her, standing there like the day he was born, completely unbothered by his nakedness. "Maybe it was destiny itself that brought you here, or perhaps you are in love, miss. How about we take a little walk?" he hummed, using his voice in a specific way to maintain his control over her.

Miyaka's eyes widened in shock as she saw him looking more like a human. Her cheeks flushed at his nakedness, and at first, she turned her head away, trying to regain her composure. His voice, however, was so sweet and enchanting that she found herself unable to resist his offer.

With a shy smile, she finally met his gaze and nodded in agreement. "A walk sounds nice," she replied, her voice slightly trembling.

"Then, come on, for it would be my privilege to stroll alongside a lady of your grace," Touya whispered, his voice a gentle melody, its soft vibrations resonating in the quietude of the night.

As they embarked on their journey, the moonlight filtered through the forest canopy, bestowing an otherworldly glow upon their surroundings. Miyaka found herself caught in a swirl of emotions. On one hand, the night's beauty enthralled her — the moon's tranquil reflection upon the serene lake and the enigmatic presence of her companion held an undeniable allure.

Yet, beneath this surface enchantment, a lingering fear clung to her heart. She walked alongside a creature she could barely fathom—a being who had both saved her and possessed the potential to harm her. Her steps were cautious, her senses acutely attuned, yet she couldn't deny the strange magnetism of the situation that kept her near him.

"Touya," she ventured with trepidation, "you mentioned being a siren earlier, and I believe you obviously... But I've been pondering... What sustenance does a being like you feed on?"

The merman gazed at her through half-lidded eyes, offering a subtle shrug of his shoulders. "I am indeed a siren, and I'm pleased that you trust me. If you're truly curious, I subsist on fish and other creatures that dwell within this very lake." Touya gently entwined his hand with hers, their fingers interlocking. "Is there a particular reason for your concern?" he inquired softly.

Miyaka's fingers held onto Touya's hand with a hint of tension as she confessed, "Our maid, Yuki-san, she warned me about you. She called you a devil and spoke of the many people who have disappeared near this lake." Her gaze wavered between fear and fascination as she continued, "Despite her warnings, I couldn't resist the pull of this place, and of you."

In response, Touya emitted a low purring sound and drew a bit nearer, his hand reaching to tenderly brush her cheek. "People often spin tales to frighten children or to add intrigue to their lives," he remarked, his voice laced with a soothing quality. "Do you truly believe I would have saved you if I were the monster they depict?" he lied smoothly.

Miyaka yielded to the allure of Touya's touch, her fear momentarily giving way to an inexplicable attraction. "I... I don't know what to believe anymore," she confessed, her voice quivering with uncertainty. “But I trust you…”

As they continued their walk, Miyaka was suddenly assaulted by a foul odor that made her wince and scrunch up her nose. "Oh God, what an awful smell!" She scanned the area, trying to locate the source of the stench.

Dabi's brow furrowed with a sense of foreboding; he already had a suspicion about what she was referring to. It was likely the remains of the girl who had come to the lake before her, her torn and discarded body now possibly decomposing in the tall grass, right where he had left it; Touya had no inclination to allow the wretched remnants of a pitiful human to decompose within the sacred waters of his lake. He cursed himself for not disposing of it more discreetly, hiding the evidence of his previous encounter.

Miyaka couldn't resist investigating the foul odor. She carefully approached the nearby bushes, her heart pounding with dread. As she parted the dense foliage, she was met with a gruesome sight.

There, partially concealed among the tangled branches and leaves, were the decaying remains of what appeared to be a human. The body was in a horrifying state of decomposition, and the stench was overwhelming. Maggots crawled in and out of the decomposing flesh, and Miyaka felt bile rise in her throat.

She stumbled back, horrified by the grisly discovery. "Oh my God," she whispered, her voice trembling with shock and disgust. "What... what is this?!" The realization that something terrible had happened here sent shivers down her spine. "Oh my dear God!" She started crying.

Touya swiftly ensnared her in his grasp, drawing her nearer as his arms coiled around her, a tight and sinister embrace. His hushed whispers carried an eerie weight, like a sinister lullaby meant to enthrall. "You humans are often desperate creatures," he murmured, his tone taking on a dark, chilling timbre. "I didn't know she was here. She probably came for the same reason you did those days ago, but she succeeded."

The sinister undercurrent in his words hung in the air, weaving a web of unsettling secrets and uncertainty. Miyaka's heart raced as Touya pulled her into a tight hug, but his touch only intensified her fear and disgust. The overwhelming desire to escape this situation consumed her, like a trapped animal seeking freedom. As her mind churned with conflicting emotions, the feeling of unease grew stronger. She needed to get away, to put distance between herself and whatever had transpired here. "That's disgusting! Poor soul..." she whispered, her voice trembling. 

But then realization struck, and her horror deepened. "Wait... How do you know it was a woman? These remains are unrecognizable, you can't determine who it was... Oh my God... oh my God, you killed her..." Miyaka began to back away slowly, her eyes filled with a terror that clawed at her very soul.

Touya's frown deepened as he regarded her, her skepticism gnawing at his patience. His voice, laced with irritation, rumbled like distant thunder, "You are too quick to pass judgment, miss. My existence is far removed from your understanding, and my senses perceive the world in ways you cannot fathom."

Turning away from her, he continued in a lower tone, his words designed to play on her human psyche, "I saved your life, yet you accuse me of murder."

Miyaka, caught in a conflict of emotions, felt a wave of guilt cascade over her like a shadowed waterfall. Had her accusations been too hasty, she wondered? Touya's words, though cryptic, resonated with a strange sincerity. Yet, the puzzle pieces of this enigmatic encounter didn't quite fit into the mosaic of her understanding.

Opting to retain her doubts in the vault of her thoughts, Miyaka approached Touya, her arms encircling his waist from behind with a hesitancy akin to a delicate breeze quivering through a forest of doubts. Her voice trembled, a blend of trepidation and contrition as she spoke. "I... I apologize if I misconstrued, Touya. The world here feels surreal, and my fear cast shadows over my judgment. Forgive me."

Touya's lips curled into a smile, hidden from her eyes. In her vulnerability, her heartstrings resonated to his voice's enchanting tune. The pieces of his plan were falling into place as he desired.

He released a deep, contemplative sigh, his fingers gently caressing the arms wrapped around his waist. His voice, a velvet whisper, embraced the still night air. "Yes, I saved you. If I were the monster you fear, you would have been my meal the very day you graced the water with your presence. But, dear miss, I forgive you, for there's something about you that intrigues me."

Miyaka's voice quivered as she made her request, her longing for confirmation overpowering her doubts. "Touya," she murmured, the name like a sweet melody on her lips, "would you... kiss me? To anchor this moment in reality, to assure me that I'm not merely adrift in some dream?"

Touya's hands gently slid to Miyaka's, separating them from his waist. He released himself from her embrace and turned to face her, his smile still present as he cupped her face with his cool palms. "Sirens are known for granting wishes. Your wish is my command, fair lady," he whispered softly before leaning in to kiss her.

Their kiss was both slow and intense, a dance of desire and mystery. Touya's sharp teeth clanked against hers, but he quickly took control of the kiss, his forked tongue parting her lips, exploring her mouth.

Miyaka responded eagerly to Touya's kiss, her initial hesitation giving way to a surge of desire and curiosity. Her hands began to explore his physique with a boldness she hadn't known she possessed. Fingers traced the lines of his pale skin, feeling the strange yet alluring texture of his body. As their lips moved in a passionate dance, her fingers traveled from his chest to his back and further south, grasping his ass. Her tongue danced with his.

Touya blinked, and retreated, his gaze locked on her with a smug, playful smile dancing on his lips. He ran his tongue over his mouth. "Behold, dear lady, clutching a monster’s ass, nurtured by the wild with manners undefined?" he mused with a hint of amusement in his voice.

Miyaka's cheeks flushed a deep shade of crimson as she felt the heat of embarrassment wash over her. She stammered out an apology, her words a mixture of guilt and confusion. "I'm... I'm so sorry," she murmured, her voice quivering. "I don't know why I did that. It was impulsive, and I should never have... I didn't mean to offend you." Her eyes averted, unable to meet his gaze, she felt a strange mixture of attraction and shame clouding her judgment.

The monster chuckled, capturing her lips with a playful kiss, his palm caressing her cheek. This time, his arms enveloped her waist, and his hands embarked on a slow journey downward, firmly fondling her ass.

Miyaka's gaze locked with Touya's as she struggled to find the words to convey her complex feelings. "Touya," she began, her voice filled with uncertainty, "I want to be with you, but I'm lost. I don't know what to do or how to navigate this... connection we have... What am I supposed to do?"

Touya emitted a soft, melodic hum, gently pressing his forehead to hers. "You see, my dear, you have the power to rid yourself of your tormentor, to break free from those chains that bind you. Return to me, and I shall envelop you in a love that knows no bounds, a love that will shield and cherish you," he whispered, his words like a seductive melody. 

Dabi couldn't contain his satisfaction. He marveled at how effortlessly he manipulated her. She was not only surrendering herself willingly, but she was also unwittingly becoming a pawn in his sinister game. The thrill of her impending arrival, the promise of chaos in her wake — oh, how he relished it all!

In that surreal moment, Miyaka found herself strangely drawn to the merman's words. The idea of breaking free from her tormentor, of taking control of her own destiny, it all felt so tempting, so liberating. The plan that had sounded wrong at first now seemed like the path she was meant to take, the one that would finally lead her to a life free from the clutches of her abusive husband.

She hesitated for just a moment, the weight of her decision sinking in, and then, with newfound determination, she whispered, "Yes... I'll do it. I'll break free from him, no matter what it takes." 

Using his seductive voice, he whispered into her ear, his tone laced with malice, "Do it. Show him what you're truly made of, and we shall be bound together for eternity." His words were a siren's call, leading her deeper into the abyss of darkness that he reveled in.

Touya watched Miyaka's retreating figure, a sinister smile curling on his lips as he imagined the torment he would inflict upon her. To him, she was nothing more than a pawn in his twisted game, a foolish woman who had fallen right into his meticulously set trap. The prospect of torturing her and relishing in her suffering thrilled him.

_____________________________

That night Miyaka found herself trapped in a nightmare. She stood alone in a strange, dark room that seemed to stretch endlessly in all directions. There was no light, no discernible features, just an overwhelming sense of oppressive darkness that threatened to swallow her whole.

The first thing that assaulted her senses was the pungent scent of blood, heavy and metallic, hanging in the air like a suffocating fog. It clung to her, filling her nostrils with a sickening, nauseating aroma that made her stomach churn with dread.

As she cautiously took a step forward, her footsteps echoed eerily in the void, the sound resonating through the darkness. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, the fear intensifying with each passing moment. She called out for help, but her voice seemed to vanish into the abyss, swallowed by the oppressive silence.

The room felt like a labyrinth, a never-ending maze of despair. Miyaka's breath quickened, and her skin prickled with a cold, clammy sweat. Panic welled up inside her as she desperately searched for an escape, but the darkness remained unyielding, trapping her in its suffocating grip. 

In the next moment, the oppressive darkness was pierced by a strange, eerie light that suddenly illuminated a portion of the floor in front of her. The ghastly scene that unfolded was horrifying beyond imagination.

There, sprawled out in a grotesque and mangled state, lay a heavily destroyed female body. It bore the unmistakable marks of teeth, deep and savage, along with numerous bruises and cuts inflicted by sharp, brutal claws. The sight was enough to make her blood run cold, and a wave of revulsion surged through her.

The lifeless figure on the ground seemed to be a cruel testament to unimaginable violence. It was as if some malevolent force had unleashed its fury upon this unfortunate soul, leaving behind a gruesome tableau of suffering and torment.

Miyaka's breath hitched, and her heart pounded in her chest as she gazed upon this macabre scene. The strange light continued to flicker, casting eerie shadows that danced across the lifeless form. She felt a suffocating dread wash over her, realizing that she was trapped, unable to escape the horrors that lurked in the shadows.

Suddenly, amidst the surreal horror, Miyaka heard a grotesque noise that resembled something being voraciously chewed. Her heart raced as she turned her head to the side slowly, where the eerie light flickered once more, revealing a chilling sight.

In the dim illumination, she saw a dark figure, unmistakably Touya, slowly devouring a still-beating heart held in his clawed hands. His sharp claws dug into the quivering meat of the organ, his eyes glinting with a sinister hunger.

The gruesome scene played out before her eyes, and she was paralyzed with terror, unable to look away from the horrifying spectacle unfolding in this twisted nightmare. Miyaka's terror reached its zenith as she opened her mouth in a desperate attempt to scream, but to her horror, no sound escaped her lips. Her voice had been stolen by the darkness surrounding her.

The next moment, she was outside, and the moon hung low in the obsidian sky, casting a sinister pallor over the desolate landscape. The eerie silence was shattered by the mournful cries of ghostly sea creatures that drifted ominously in the air, their twisted forms contorted in agony.

Amidst this nightmarish scene, the water's surface rippled and churned, as if it were alive with malevolent intent. From the inky depths, a grotesque figure emerged. It was Touya, but he bore no resemblance to the benevolent creature she had encountered before. His once-lustrous white hair now hung in limp, tangled strands, darkened with the stains of blood and decay. His eyes, once mesmerizing pools of turquoise, were now empty voids, devoid of any humanity. His scales and fins had become jagged and twisted, oozing with an otherworldly ichor.

Touya's mouth gaped open unnaturally wide, revealing rows of serrated teeth, each one gleaming with an eerie luminescence. He lurched toward Miyaka, his movements disjointed and unnatural, as if he were a puppet controlled by some malevolent force. With a gut-wrenching lurch, his grotesque form surged out of the water, and he loomed over her, his breath rancid and putrid. He reached out with his twisted, clawed hands, and ripped right through her chest, pulling her heart out; his touch sent a searing pain through her body.

The next moment, Miyaka found herself standing at the edge of the dark lake once more, alone. The haunting memories of what she witnessed still lingered, but a strange compulsion had drawn her back to this place.

She began to undress, her trembling fingers fumbling with the fabric of her dress. The moonlight cast a silvery glow on her as she shed each layer, leaving her vulnerable in the night. The cool breeze rustled the leaves in the surrounding woods, and the night seemed to hold its breath, as if nature itself watched in anticipation. With each piece of clothing that fell to the ground, she felt a strange sense of liberation, as if she was shedding not just fabric but the weight of her past as well. She stood bare under the moonlight, the lake's dark waters reflecting her silhouette.

Miyaka shivered, whether from the cold or from the anticipation of the unknown, she couldn't tell. 

As the woman stood by the edge of the lake, the moonlight illuminating her bare form, a sudden change in the atmosphere caught her by surprise. Without warning, the heavens opened, and rain began to pour down in a torrential downpour.

The raindrops drenched her, mingling with the tears that had welled up in her eyes. She felt the cool water cascade down her skin, as if nature itself wept for the strange and unsettling journey she had embarked upon.

The rain intensified, soaking the earth around her and turning the once-silent night into a cacophony of sound. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

As another loud clap of thunder echoed through the night, the world seemed to vibrate with its intensity. Miyaka stood drenched and shivering, the rain pouring down around her, when something utterly unexpected unfolded before her eyes.

From the dark depths of the lake, a figure began to emerge. Slowly and deliberately, Touya materialized, his form once again taking on a human shape. The rain-slicked water glistened on his bare skin, accentuating the contours of his body.

He stepped out of the lake, his movements graceful and unhurried, and stood before her in all his naked glory. The moonlight and raindrops played tricks with the shadows and highlights on his body, creating an almost ethereal, mesmerizing effect.

Miyaka's heart raced, and she couldn't tear her eyes away from this captivating sight. The storm raged around them, but in this moment, it was as if time had stood still, and the world held its breath in the presence of the enigmatic creature before her.

She watched helplessly as Touya's delicious naked body walked purposefully towards her. She felt as though her heart were consumed by a white-hot fire, and was being stabbed with a thousand needles, and she didn't know why. Never had she felt a pain even remotely like this before; it was horrendous. It was a pain she would never wish upon anybody, even a foe.

Touya wrapped his arms around Miyaka, pulling her close, and they both sank to their knees on the wet sand. The storm raged fiercer around them.

Touya, with a powerful force, pushed Miyaka down onto the ground, pinning her beneath his weight, the storm's intensity mirroring the tempestuous passion that had ignited between them.

Miyaka parted her lips, rolling her head back, as Touya's lips found the sweet spot on her exposed neck. His mouth closed over it, and a shiver of pleasure coursed through her as he gently sucked on the sensitive area, right where her pulse point was located.

The merman, displaying skill and patience, gently inserted two fingers into her, his groan reflecting the tightness he encountered. Leaving a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses along her body, his head descended to her pussy, where he proceeded to wrap his lips around her needy core. Two fingers gently ran across her clit, up and down, up and down.

The woman moaned in pleasure at his fingers massaging her insides.

Touya seemed to be savoring every moment, leisurely tracing his tongue along her slit. His captivating turquoise eyes locked onto her, a mischievous smirk gracing his face as he reveled in the heavenly expression on her face. His forked tongue, with expert precision, skillfully explores every tantalizing crevice, evoking a passionate response that leaves her drenched with desire.

They shifted their positions, with her now kneeling between Touya's legs. She proceeded with deliberate and seductive movements, using her soft hands to sensually stroke his aroused member. A smile of satisfaction graced Miyaka’s lips as she noticed the uncontrollable moan that escaped the merman's mouth when her tongue made contact with the engorged head of his throbbing shaft.

A heated tongue writhed sloppily inside of her cunt, catching Miyaka off guard once more. 

Her breath caught in her throat, and she surrendered to the intense pleasure coursing through her. In a symphony of blissful moans and gasps, she couldn't contain herself, her body quivering as Touya's skilled hand rubbed her swollen clit raw.

Soon, Miyaka mounted Touya, aligning his throbbing dick with her glistening, slick  entrance. She eased his impressive length into her eager pussy, relishing the intense sensation of being stretched beyond what her husband had ever provided.

Touya's hands firmly gripped Miyaka's hips, and he drove himself into her with unrestrained fervor, lost in the primal rhythm of their connection. Each powerful thrust was accompanied by a guttural growl leaving his lips.

Miyaka's breath caught in her throat as she rested her hands on Touya's chiseled chest, snapping her hips back and forth, riding him like he would be a wild stallion. 

Her young body quivered as the successive waves of her climax surged through her. Miyaka's breathing quickened, and her gaze appeared to lose focus as if her eyes were drifting backward. She rode Touya for what felt like an eternity, and then, in a sudden motion, she forcefully slammed down on his throbbing dick, her pussy muscles clenching tightly around his shaft. As she relaxed her pussy slightly, merman shot hot, sticky ropes of cum deep within her core. Miyaka leaned forward to share a passionate kiss with him; their tongues danced together. 

As the ecstasy of the moment began to fade, Miyaka's senses returned, and she suddenly became aware of the rain growing thicker around them. But to her profound horror, when she reluctantly opened her eyes after breaking the passionate kiss with Touya, she realized that it wasn't water pouring down upon them; it was a deluge of blood, staining everything in a nightmarish crimson hue. 

Miyaka wanted to scream, to release the overwhelming anguish that gripped her, but no sound escaped her lips. Instead, she felt like she was suffocating, the blood rain gathering in her nose, making each breath a painful struggle.

After she blinked, Miyaka found herself standing by the side of their marital bed, a sinister calmness in the room as her husband slept soundly. The air was heavy with the weight of her suppressed emotions, and in the distance, she could hear the cruel slurs and insults he had hurled at her throughout their troubled marriage. Each word echoed in her mind, a painful reminder of the torment she had endured.

The anger within her boiled over, a searing rage that consumed her. Unable to contain her emotions any longer, she reached out and began to strike his chest with a fury she had kept buried for far too long. Her screams filled the room as she unleashed the pent-up hatred she felt towards him, her voice cracking with the intensity of her emotions. "I hate you!" she screamed, her voice raw with bitterness. "I hate everything about you!" Her fists hammered down, each blow a cathartic release of the pain and suffering she had endured in silence for too many years. The room seemed to close in around her as she confronted the source of her torment, the darkness of the night bearing witness to her long-suppressed fury.

_____________________________

A haunting, low moan pulled Miyaka out of her nightmarish slumber. Confusion gripped her as she slowly opened her eyes, disoriented and uncertain of her surroundings. It took a few bewildering moments, but then the horrifying realization struck her like a bolt of lightning.

She stood next to her marital bed, her trembling hand gripping a bloodied butcher's knife. On the bed, the nightmarish scene unfolded before her eyes — her husband, lying there with numerous gruesome cuts to his chest and neck, blood pooling around him. His eyes, filled with terror, locked onto her with a fading, desperate gaze, his voice stolen by the brutality of his wounds.

Miyaka's breath caught in her throat as she stared at the gruesome tableau of violence she had somehow become a part of. 

"Noooo!" Miyaka screamed. Her world shattered in a cacophony of horror as she screamed hysterically, the knife slipping from her trembling hand. Her husband's neck bled profusely, a torrent of crimson that stained everything it touched.

In sheer desperation, she pressed her trembling fingers against the gaping wound, trying to stem the relentless flow of blood. Warm, sticky liquid soaked through her delicate palms, mingling with her own tears splashing on top of her palms as they streamed down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry, my love, I'm so sorry! Oh my God, what have I done?! What have I done?! Oh God!" Apologies escaped her trembling lips, choked with guilt and fear. 

As Miyaka stood over her husband, the time seemed to slow down. 

His once-threatening presence now lay vulnerable before her, his breaths shallow and labored. The weight of her decision bore down on her, and a tumultuous mix of emotions churned within her.

She knelt by his side, his life slipping away with each passing moment. His eyes, once filled with cruelty, now held a hint of fear and regret. The realization of what had transpired seemed to dawn on him in those final moments.

Miyaka watched as his chest rose and fell for the last time, his breaths growing weaker until they ceased altogether. His life ended in her arms, and as she looked down at him, a complex array of emotions washed over her — relief, sadness, and the haunting knowledge that her life had taken a dark turn. She had taken control of her destiny, but it had come at a cost she could never truly escape. The memory of his death would forever be etched into her soul. "What have I done..." Miyaka was whispering, her tears streaming uncontrollably.

The old maid, Yuki, was rudely awakened by the piercing screams that echoed through the once-quiet house. Fear gnawed at her as she rushed to the source of the disturbance, her trembling hands clutching the edges of her nightgown.

When she entered the room and laid eyes upon the nightmarish scene, Yuki’s own scream pierced the air. Horror contorted her features as she beheld the lifeless form of Miyaka's husband and the distraught Miyaka herself, tears streaming down her face.

Yuki, her voice shaking with dread, stammered, "What... What happened here, ma'am?! You... You murdered him!"

Miyaka, overwhelmed by the gruesome events, could only sob in response, trying to explain the inexplicable. She was lost in a maelstrom of emotions, her world unraveling before her eyes.

In the end, unable to bear the weight of her actions and the night's horrors, Miyaka made a fateful decision. She fled from the scene, her tear-streaked face a mask of desperation, and ran toward the only place she believed was safe — the dark embrace of the lake that had lured her with its eerie allure, where the enigmatic merman awaited her. Her mission was accomplished.

_____________________________

Touya's keen senses detected the hurried steps drawing nearer to the lake, and the unmistakable scent of blood hung heavy in the air. She had done it — Miyaka had followed through with their dark plan! He could already sense the turmoil coursing through her, her distress palpable.

With a predatory grace, he decided to rise to the surface of the water, and he waited there, anticipating her arrival.

Miyaka ran through the woods, her breath ragged and her heart pounding in her chest. Her once-silky, pink nightgown was now marred by dark stains of blood, a chilling testament to the horrors she had taken part in. Her long, dark hair was tangled and matted, wild strands framing her flushed cheeks.

She moved with a frantic urgency, her feet making a wet sound as they pounded against the damp earth. Every step took her farther away from the nightmarish scene she had left behind, but the memory of it clung to her like a shadow.

Miyaka reached the shore of the lake, her voice trembling as she called out for Touya. Her desperate cries echoed through the eerie stillness of the night, each plea carrying the weight of her fear and longing. "Touya!" she called, her voice quivering with emotion. "Please, I need you!" She scanned the dark waters, her heart racing in anticipation, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. 

Touya's head emerged from the water, his wet hair clinging to his pale skin, and his piercing blue eyes locked onto her. "My love," he beckoned, his voice soothing yet strangely commanding. "Why the distress? Didn't I promise to protect you? Come to me, and find the safety and solace you seek." His words were laden with an irresistible invitation, drawing her deeper into his world.

Miyaka, trembling all over her body, took slow, hesitant steps into the water. Her tear-stained face glistened in the moonlight as she approached Touya, her heart heavy with guilt and despair. She continued to cry, her voice shaky as she began to tell Touya about what she had done. "I... I did it," she whispered, her voice quivering with remorse. "I... I followed your words, and I hurt him. He's gone now." Her confession hung in the air like a dark cloud, and she looked into Touya's eyes, seeking some form of understanding or absolution for the choices she had made.

The water enveloped Miyaka, and she shivered involuntarily as its icy coldness seeped into her skin. The sensation sent a shock of discomfort through her, a stark contrast to the tumultuous emotions swirling within her. Her nightgown grew heavy, soaked with the icy water.

Touya extended his hand, gently seizing hers, and drew her closer, enveloping her in his warm embrace. One of his hands tenderly caressed her hair, his touch a deceptive contrast to the darkness that lay beneath.

He savored the sensation of her distress, finding it akin to sweet nectar, adding an intoxicating layer to the unfolding narrative of their entwined destinies.

"My sweet Miyaka," he murmured, his voice laced with a sinister sweetness. "Such a good girl." His praise was both soothing and unsettling, as he reveled in the intricate web of emotions he had woven around her.

Miyaka found solace in Touya's embrace, even as her body went numb from the cold water. His presence provided a strange comfort that she couldn't quite explain.

She looked up at him, her voice quivering, and asked in a trembling whisper, "What... What do we do now?" The world around her had descended into chaos, and she clung to him as her anchor in this bewildering nightmare.

Touya held her in a tight embrace, "I shall shield you, for you are mine," he said with eerie grace.

Miyaka looked up at Touya with worry in her eyes, her voice filled with desperation. "My maid... she saw what happened. I can't return to the estate. What should I do now?"

The monstrous being scoffed dismissively. "Don't concern yourself with that old hag. She knows nothing. You are under my protection now, and you shall remain safe for all time."

Miyaka snuggled closer to Touya, resting her head on the crook of his neck for comfort. Her curiosity piqued, she asked in a soft voice, "Touya, what are those dark purple spots on your skin? I forgot to ask earlier..."

"That's how my body looks," Touya replied openly, "They are just marks from years ago when some sailors tried to burn me alive after I killed their captain on the open sea."

Miyaka's eyes widened as she listened to his gruesome story. She struggled to reconcile this dark tale with the merman who had saved her and told her he had never attacked anyone. She asked, her voice filled with uncertainty, "But... you saved me, and you said you've never harmed anyone. I don't understand, Touya..."

"Perhaps it's because you're nothing more than a naive, little human," Touya chuckled, his hold on her growing stronger.

Miyaka winced as Touya's grip tightened, causing discomfort. She mustered the courage to speak up, her voice trembling. "Touya, your hold is hurting me," she said softly. "Please, let's not be unkind..."

"Well, my dear, I need to ensure my prized possession won't simply slip through my fingers," he remarked with a sinister smile. "Oh, I've been waiting for this moment for so long — to have you back in my embrace."

Miyaka attempted to slip out of Touya's strong embrace, but her efforts were in vain. Instead, a sudden force of his hands pushed her beneath the water's surface, and panic surged through her. She thrashed and struggled, desperate for air and to break free from the grip that had become suffocating.

Her distress only seemed to heighten his pleasure. The sight of her desperately thrashing around, fighting for her own life, sent a thrilling wave of excitement through him.

The merman seized a handful of Miyaka's hair and yanked her back up, a cruel grin on his face as she gasped for air. "Did you truly believe that I would want a pathetic human like you?" he taunted with a chilling edge to his words.

Tears streamed down Miyaka's face as she sobbed, her voice trembling with desperation. "Why are you being so cruel and nasty?!" she pleaded, her distress palpable in her words. "I love you, and I did what you told me to do so we could be together, Touya!"

Her cries echoed through the dark waters, mixing with the eerie ambiance of their surroundings. Her huge distress was like a storm within her, a maelstrom of emotions that threatened to consume her. She continued, her voice broken and filled with anguish, "You... you visited me in my dreams, brought me pleasure... Why are you doing this now?!"

Touya's voice dripped with cruelty as he responded, "Visit someone as pathetic as you? Never. But it seems my voice has indeed worked wonders on you." He playfully tugged at her hair even harder, causing her pain. "To me, you're nothing more than a piece of meat, and I take great pleasure in tormenting naive humans like you. It adds a delightful flavor to the meal." His words sent a chill down her spine as the darkness of their situation enveloped her.

The merman summoned his strength and, with a powerful motion, pulled Miyaka beneath the water with him. 

Her world plunged into darkness and turmoil as she was dragged into the depths of the lake, her struggles intensifying as she fought against the relentless force pulling her down. Sinister shadows danced around her, and she felt a suffocating pressure in her chest as the water closed in on her.

The eerie silence of the underwater world was broken only by the sound of her muffled cries. She could see Touya's malevolent grin in the dim light, his eyes gleaming with a predatory hunger. The water seemed to press against her, threatening to crush her as she struggled for breath, her desperate gasps for air drowned by the malevolent embrace of the lake.

Dabi launched a relentless assault on Miyaka. His sharp claws tore through the water, leaving vicious trails in their wake. With terrifying swiftness, he closed the distance between them, his razor-sharp teeth bared in a menacing grin. He attacked with ruthless ferocity, his claws raking across her skin, and his teeth sinking into her flesh. The water around them turned crimson as the horrifying struggle unfolded, and Miyaka's desperate cries were silenced by the watery abyss that enveloped them.

Miyaka's nightgown offered little protection as Touya's relentless assault continued. With a vicious tear, the delicate fabric was rent asunder, leaving her exposed to the cold, merciless waters of his lake.

Touya's clawed hands gently cradled Miyaka's cheeks, holding her gaze with a cold, unfeeling intensity. Their eyes locked in a chilling embrace as she struggled to hold onto the last remnants of breath in her burning lungs, each painful gasp a stark reminder of her impending doom.

In that haunting moment, beneath the unforgiving waters, they were locked in a macabre dance of predator and prey.

With a swift and cruel motion, Touya pierced Miyaka's chest with his clawed hand, the flesh yielding easily to his monstrous strength. A searing pain shot through her. Dark haired woman's senses barely registered the horrifying reality of what was happening. The world around her dissolved into a surreal blur, and the excruciating pain in her chest seemed distant, as if happening to someone else. As her life ebbed away, her consciousness faded into a murky abyss, and the last remnants of her existence were swallowed by the cold, merciless waters of the lake.

Touya tore the beating heart from her chest, the organ pulsating in his grip, still warm and alive. As he held it before him, the last vestiges of life ebbed away from Miyaka, her body going limp.

Touya, with a grotesque hunger, sank his sharp teeth into the still-beating heart he held in his clawed hand. The organ yielded to his bite, and the taste of youth surged into his mouth. He savored the sickeningly sweet taste. 

Once he had consumed the last morsel of Miyaka's essence, Touya's malevolent gaze turned towards the lifeless body he still held by the arm. A fleeting pang of guilt tugged at his consciousness, but he quickly dismissed the emotion. "You're mine now, forever," he declared, his monstrous arms embracing the lifeless form. "You'll remain with me for all eternity, sweet naive girl, at the bottom of my lake." 

Touya, in a sinister tone, offered a twisted form of thanks to the lifeless Miyaka. "Thank you for your heart, love," he murmured, his voice laced with malevolence. "It has provided me with the strength I needed to regain my full power." 

The waters of the lake seemed to shiver in response to his sinister words, bearing witness to the unholy pact forged in the depths.

After a moment of holding Miyaka's lifeless body close to his muscular chest, Touya swam further down into the unfathomable depths of the abyss that was the lake. With Miyaka's body firmly in his grasp, he descended into the darkness, disappearing from the realm of the living and vanishing into the watery tomb that was his dominion.

[anama-cara]

Bargaining

dark!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Bargaining Masterlist

Summary: You try to bargain your virginity for your family’s safety. Word count: 1.8k

Warnings for full fic: 18 + mdni , Dubious consent, virginity loss, unsafe p in v, mentions of STDs, pet names, dark, age gap, survivalism, I do Not condone this. Reader is in her early 20’s, Joel is in his 40’s. Reader’s inner thoughts are in italics. This is my first fic, please give feedback.

“Wait. I can give you something else. My virginity.”

He raises an eyebrow.

---

Joel Miller, the infamous raider, stands before you. He and his band of men control these parts, and they provide “protection” from clickers and other raiders in exchange for a monthly payment. Your household (its just you and your younger brother) usually give them a large basket full of vegetables. But this month something, maybe a gopher or a deer, tore up your garden, eating everything. You had nothing else to give. When Joel’s men had broken down your door you begged them, told them you’d give them double next month. They threatened to take your brother instead, put him to work. And then Joel strode through the front door, filing the doorway with his large form. He wore a red flannel, thick tan leather jacket, heavy boots and tight jeans with his knee cocked out and his hands on his hips.

“What’s taking so long in here? There trouble?” He asked his men. They nodded to you and Joel’s gaze shifted to you. An intense gaze, one that made your knees weak and your chin tremble. You swallowed and pulled yourself together.

“I’m sorry, an animal destroyed our crops. We can forage and plant again. I promise next month we will pay double.”

He shook his head sadly and your stomach dropped.

“Sorry sweetheart, can’t go around making exceptions, even for someone as pretty as you.”

One of his men stepped forward and made to grab your brother’s arm. Pretty? Maybe there was another way.

“Wait. I am still a virgin. I’m unused. I have no diseases, which is good because out here if you get sick you could die,” you ramble, shifting your weight from foot to foot.

“I’m clean. I’ve never been touched by a man. And I wouldn’t just be giving you sex, or safe sex, or my virginity, I’d be giving you a piece of me, my dignity, my identity, my soul.”

He grins wickedly at that so you plow ahead. He likes to have power, you can read it in his face, so you use it to your advantage.

“I’d be yours, claimed, forever marked by you, by my first time. Yours to ruin. Yours to torment, yours to degrade, yours to fuck, yours to fill. You can stretch me out and when your cum is dripping down my thighs and I am reduced to a sweating, sobbing, shaking mess on the floor - striped of my dignity and humanity, then you can proudly sit back and see your power. How you’ve ruined someone, claimed them, destroyed them, owned them.”

Damn you’re really trying to sell this. He has to take bait, you can’t let them take your brother.

You have his undivided attention, his eyes never left yours throughout your whole monologue. He seems surprised and a little impressed by your unexpected language. Now that you’ve said your piece, finished begging, he breaks eye contact. He shamelessly looks you up and down like he’s inspecting a horse to buy. He says nothing but gives one curt nod.

You loosen a sigh of relief. Your brother would be safe. You turned to face him, you had been standing a step in front of him, protecting him with your body. You knelt down and put a hand on his check. “Go upstairs, and don’t come down till I tell you. Okay?” You tell him softly. He nods silently and heads for the staircase in the corner of the room. You straighten up and turn to face Joel again. There’s something on his face, almost like a sad understanding as he watches your brother leave.

“Alright sweetheart, where do you wanna do this?” He asks gruffly in his thick Texan accent.

Oh god this is really happening.

“N-not upstairs.” Is all you manage to get out. Your mind seems to be going blank with the anxiety and shock of what’s about to happen. When you don’t move or say anything else he just nods and grabs your hand, pulling you from the main room where all his men remain, rifling through your things. He pulls you through a door and into the kitchen. He closes the door and pushes a chair underneath the doorknob, jamming it.

“Don’t want anyone interrupting us.” He smirks at your widened eyes. “You know sweetheart, you sure do have a filthy mouth. Saying all those things.” He’s shaking his head. He finally lets go of your hand to take a step back and look you over again greedily. Nothing soft remains in his eyes now. No, the only thing you see is a predator. His hungry eyes devour you. All the warning bells are going off in your head, every instinct telling you to kick him in the crotch and run. But you know you can’t, because although you know you could probably outrun this big guy, there are too many of them, and your brother is upstairs. So, you take a deep breath, loosen your fists and accept you fate. He notices the little movement. He notices everything.

“Ready sweetheart?”

You give a small nod, still unable to speak. You’re afraid of how small your voice will sound. You will not appear weak in front of him. You hold your chin higher and meet his stare.

The corner of his lips pull up in a wicked grin. “Good.”

And then he moves, and he’s so fast you don’t even know what’s happening until you’re pushed up against the kitchen island. With a broad hand he pushes you down and pins you between your shoulder blades. He’s got you bent over face down on the counter. Your breasts are pressed against the cold granite and your nipples harden against it. He presses into you from behind and you can feel his considerable bulge. With one boot he hooks your foot and slides it out, spreading your legs further for him. You hear the metal clanging as he undoes his belt and lowers his zipper. You don’t turn to look. There’s no need, you know he'll be big. With his cock freed he closes the gap between you, leaning further into you.

Shit. This will be painful.

He's even larger than you thought. You feel his hard cock behind you, pressing against your ass and the small of your back. His head tilts and you feel his hot breath on the curve of your neck. His lips glide over your shoulder. “So soft.” He inhales deeply, smelling your hair. “Mmmm.” With one hand he reaches up and grabs at your breast roughly. He can feel your hardened nipple through the thin fabric of the dress. He lets out a low growl and gropes you harder. You can feel his breathing getting faster. He reaches back down to pull your dress up above your ass. It bunches around you hips.

“Hold this sweetheart.” He whispers in your ear. You obey, grabbing the bunched up fabric with one hand and bracing yourself on the counter with the other. He pulls back, and pulls your underwear down to your ankles. One hand moves to your hip, keeping you in place. With his other hand wrapped around the base of his cock he notches at your entrances and pushes in half way. White hot pain flashes through you. He’s so big and your body was not prepared for him. He pulls out almost all the way and pushes in again, all the way, hips snapping. Searing pain, he is splitting your insides apart. You hiss in pain.

“Sorry sweetheart, didn’t say this was gonna be nice for you. Remember this is your payment. Take it.”

He chuckles darkly and slams into you again. You shake your head.

No, no no no, it’s too much.

You can’t breathe. You feel a trickle of blood run down the inside of your thigh. Your hips dig into the countertop and you know there with be a line of bruising left on your skin. You’ll have bruising on the side of your hips too, his fingers are griping you so tightly.

“That’s a good little virgin. So fucking tight. Relax sweetheart. Don’t fight it.” He grunts. “I know your pussy will want it anyways.”

He sets up a rapid pace, slamming into you roughly with each thrust. It’s dry and painful and you hate it. Hate him. But after a few minutes when your body has adjusted you begin to loosen a bit. You still hate Joel, hate this man who runs these lands like he owns them. But you can’t deny that your body has stopped protesting. So you try to drown out the obscene sounds of skin slapping and his grunting behind you. You let your mind travel far away and forget that it is Joel behind you.

You’re not sure how much time has passed, but you feel a change behind you, the hot breaths on your shoulder blades are uneven and the pace is different, slower and deeper. He lets out a pained moan then pulls out of you, there’s a seconds pause then you feel hot liquid spill over you. It hits the small of your back in ropes and drips onto your ass. He sighs deeply from behind you. You finally turn to look at him. He’s staring your body, satisfaction on his face as he watches his cum drip down you. You whip your head back around before he can catch your eye.

There’s silence as he watches you and catches his breath. Finally, he reaches down and pulls your underwear back up. He takes the dress out of your grip and tugs it down. He runs his hands over your waist and ass, smoothing the fabric and feeling you up. One rests at the small of your back and presses the dress into the wetness there, letting to fabric soak it up and stick to you. He grins.

“Alright sweetheart.”

 He gives your ass a smack then lets go of you. You push up and raise yourself off from the counter, resting on your elbows. He says nothing else as he moves to the door, unwedges the chair and opens the door. He looks back at you. You’re still leaning against the counter for support. He eyes your shaking legs, your ruffed up hair, your wrinkled wet dress. “See you next month.”

You’re in shock. That’s it? You don’t move as he leaves and whistles for his men to follow. You don’t move till you hear the front door slam behind them. Then you sink to the kitchen floor.

You don’t understand, Joel is infamous for being violent and cruel. You know that could have been much worse, that he could have beat you, that he could have passed you around to his men afterwards. But he just left. Suddenly you feel grateful. Then you silently curse yourself for it, reminding yourself that even though it could have been worse it was horrible that it ever happened in the first place. That someone threatened your family, that they took something from you. That they acted like they owned the place. You grit your teeth. No, the only thing you’re grateful for is the fact that it’s over. You stand on your shaky legs and reach for a kitchen towel. You call out for your brother, letting him know that they’re gone and he’s safe. You clean yourself up and you hear his little feet running down the stairs. He bursts into the room and flies at you in a hug. “Your big sis took care of it. I’ll always protect you remember. It’s okay. It’s over.” You pat his back and comfort him.

See you next month.

[izgnanik-a]

CoD ABC’s

NSFW 18+ x Reader Edition - Minor DNI!

Masterlist here

V - Voyeurism (Kyle “Gaz” Garrick (x Johnny MacTavish) x Reader)

Tags: p-in-v, protected sex, praise kink, humiliation kink, squirting, Switch!Gaz

Not beta-read, we die like men 🤷🏽

Prompt: You knew it was dangerous, embarrassing even, but Gaz insisted that Johnny was a heavy sleeper and promised that you wouldn’t wake him.

It was stupidly dangerous. Humiliating if you were caught.

But Gaz insisted that his bunk mate, Johnny MacTavish, was a heavy sleeper and not even the drill call from the Lieutenant could wake him.

So that’s how you ended up in Gaz’s bed, lights out, fucking yourself down on his cock in efforts to fuck the both of you to sleep.

You were quieter than usual, volume down to muffled whines and gasps masked by the gentle creak of Gaz’s bed.

Gaz’s mouth pressed up against your breasts before enveloping your nipple, and you reverted to rocking your hips as you tried to pull yourself together.

He hummed in delight, only the electric light from the digital alarm clock painting you and him blue. He released your nipple to clasp the sides of your neck. “You feel so good.” He said softly against your mouth, and smiled when you rocked deliciously on his cock to the compliment. “I almost want to share you.” He sat up with his arms around your back, suckling on your mouth.

“You’re too jealous to share.” You stated.

“Not when it comes to pleasing you.”

“Yeah?” You gasped as his hand reached under your ass to squeeze his cock tighter.

“Yeah.” He moaned as you lifted up and began thrusting.

The slick sounds of your pussy and the meat of your thighs claps soft enough to echo off the cement walls. Your hands tightened in the short cropped hair on Gaz’s nape, and you suckled on his tongue in feverish strokes as you dragged your hips across his pelvis.

He released you with a gasp, and gazed up at you in awe. “Harder.” He begged.

You knew that any harder could actually wake Johnny, even if he was a “heavy” sleeper, you were both aroused and anxious if he woke up.

Gaz sensed your hesitation and wrapped his arms tight around your waist before dropping you on your side, he hiked your knee into his elbow, and fucked you with a rekindled spirit.

With every slap of his cock against you, you arched into him and clenched your lips tight together as he hammered into that spot that only he could itch. His cock rubbed against your pelvic bone deliciously, and he loved hitting it.

“You close?” He gasped over the side of your slacked face. “Yeah?”

You whimpered, clenching into his hips fucking into you. You tightened your grip on his cock.

“Let me hear you.” He begged. “Let Johnny hear you.” He mouthed into your bared throat. “Let him wish he was fucking you.”

Gaz felt the betraying clench from your pussy around him, and he chuckled darkly. He pushed you on your back, mounting over you, and it broke your silence as his thrusts continued throughout the switch.

You arched against the sheets, clenching onto him for dear life, and letting out ghastly, soul-shattering whimpers.

Gaz slowed his thrusts, replacing them with sharp and slow stabs. “Cum on my cock. Paint me with your cum.” He demanded, searching between your pressed bodies to rub your clit roughly.

You clenched your thighs around his hips as an orgasm rippled through you, and you splattered shocking across Gaz’s cock and stomach. Your squirt dribbled down over his balls as he came, condom filling, and collapsed over your body.

You felt boneless, fucked to the brink of existence. Gaz must’ve felt the same, because his full weight crushed your body.

“Next time you want to fuck your girlfriend. Just ask me to leave.” A voice ripped through the silence.

You felt hot embarrassment broil you alive. Gaz lifted to his elbow, his body still draped over you as he stared into the dark with a smirk. You covered your face, turning it to the cement wall.

Gaz chuckled. “You’re welcome to join anytime.”

4/11/23

[amalythea]

「 stars 」

⤷ info: kazuha, traveler, venti x gn!reader (separate) || angst-ish || wc: 1180

⤷ warnings: mentions of death (not reader), v sad thoughts, i tried to keep traveler themselves as gn as possible too but please do tell me if i missed something, writing for traveler actually killed my braincells

⤷ extra: i used the prompt xiv. “she’s talking to angels, counting the stars.” from @thexianzhoujade 's personal memoires (of the dearly beloved) event!!

kazuha.

In the tranquil solitude of the night, beneath the vast expanse of stars, you sat on the ground, your silhouette outlined by the gentle glow of moonlight as you gazed up at the stars above. Your heart ached with the weight of loss, your thoughts consumed by memories of your one love Kazuha.

Once, he had been the light of your life, his laughter like music to your ears, his gentle touch a source of comfort in times of need. But now, he was gone, taken from you by a cruel twist of fate, leaving behind only the echo of his presence and a void that seemed impossible to fill.

Every night, you would come to this secluded spot, the one you used to visit together, where the stars seemed to shine just a little brighter. It was here that you had shared your dreams, your hopes, and your love. And it was here that you felt closest to him, as if his spirit lingered among the celestial canvas above.

With a heavy heart, you whispered Kazuha's name into the stillness of the night, your voice barely louder than a breath. "Kazuha," you murmured, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Do you see the stars, my love? Are you watching over me from beyond the veil of the heavens?"

You closed your eyes, letting the memories wash over you like a gentle tide. You remembered the way Kazuha would hold your hand as you sat together beneath the night sky, his words a soothing balm to your troubled soul. And you remembered the promise you had made, to always be together, even when the world conspired to tear you apart.

But now, that promise lay shattered, scattered by the winds of fate. Kazuha was gone, his laughter silenced, his touch but a distant memory. And yet, you could not bring yourself to believe that he was truly lost forever.

For in the depths of your grief, there was a glimmer of hope, a belief that somehow, someway, Kazuha had found peace in the afterlife. You imagined him reunited with his dear friend, the two of them laughing and reminiscing beneath the eternal light of the stars.

And so, each night, you would come to this sacred place, your heart heavy with sorrow yet warm with the belief that Kazuha was watching over you, his love a guiding beacon in the darkness. And as you gazed up at the heavens above, you felt a sense of peace wash over you, knowing that wherever Kazuha was, he was not truly gone.

For as long as the stars continued to shine, so too would the memory of your love burn bright, illuminating the darkest corners of your soul and reminding you that even in death, your bond would never be broken.

traveler.

In Teyvat, where the winds whisper secrets and the stars tell tales of heroes, there once was a traveler from a distant world. This traveler had been searching for their sibling, and in the midst of their search had found someone else they cared for: you.

Your love knew no boundaries, spanning across the nations and beyond the reach of time itself. But fate, like a capricious deity, had other plans. Your lover, in their quest to protect the fragile balance of Teyvat, met their end in a valiant battle against a formidable foe. And as their spirit ascended, leaving behind a world engulfed in sorrow, you were left to wander Teyvat alone.

Every night, as the sky painted itself with the luminescence of countless stars, you would go up to the highest peak you could find. There, beneath the blanket of twinkling lights, you would sit, your heart heavy with longing, your eyes searching the heavens for a glimpse of your lover.

"They're among them," you would whisper to the ethereal void, your voice carrying both sorrow and hope. "My love, shining bright among the stars."

In those moments, you would feel a familiar warmth wrap around you, a fleeting sensation that whispered of your lover's enduring presence. You imagined them traversing the celestial expanse, a celestial wanderer among the constellations, watching over you with tender affection.

As time unfurled its tapestry, you found solace in your nightly ritual. The stars became your confidants, the silent witnesses to your whispered prayers and tearful confessions. And though your lover's physical form had departed, their essence lingered in the gentle caress of the night breeze and the shimmering radiance of the cosmos.

And as you gazed upon the heavens each night, your faith unshaken, you found solace in the belief that your lover had returned to their celestial home among the stars, finishing their search at last.

venti.

In Mondstadt, where the winds sing their eternal melodies and the stars dance in the night sky,

Venti, the mischievous bard of Mondstadt, was known for his jovial spirit and melodious songs that enchanted the hearts of all who listened. But amidst his carefree nature, there was one whose heart he held dearer than any other – his lover, a gentle soul whose love for Venti burned like the brightest star in the night sky.

Your love was as boundless as the vast expanse of the heavens, and together, you would spend countless nights beneath the vast expanse of the sky, nestled in each other's arms as you gazed up at the twinkling stars. Venti would weave tales of ancient myths and celestial wonders, his voice carrying across the night like a gentle breeze.

But fate, like the ever-changing winds, can be unpredictable.

One fateful day, Venti's song was silenced, his laughter stilled. News of his passing spread like wildfire, leaving behind a trail of sorrow that even the wind could not carry away. Your heart shattered into a million pieces, each shard a painful reminder of the void left by your beloved bard.

In the wake of Venti's passing, you found solace in the memories you had shared under the starlit sky. You would sit by the edge of the cliff overlooking Mondstadt, watching as the stars sparkled like fragments of Venti's soul scattered across the heavens.

In the quiet solitude of those nights, you would recall his words, spoken with a whimsical smile and a twinkle in his eyes. "If ever I should depart from this world," he had said, "fear not, for I shall join the stars themselves, and from there, I shall watch over you always."

And so, as you gazed up at the luminous tapestry above, you couldn't help but smile through your tears, for you believed with all your heart that Venti was among those celestial beings, guiding you with his eternal light.

Though the ache of loss never truly faded, you found comfort in the belief that Venti's spirit lived on in the stars, a constant reminder that your love was as infinite as the universe itself. And so, you continued to watch the stars every night, knowing that somewhere up there, Venti was watching over you, his laughter echoing in the celestial chorus that danced across the night sky.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

@amalythea 2024. | do not re-upload, copy, translate, etc. my works on any form of media.

[divinehedons]

a place of worship.

pairing: mandal'or!din djarin x f!reader

word count: ~2.7k words

summary: despite the multiple times from which you had made love with the mandal'or, there is always something quite different. like the taste of poison. from dust to divinity, measure for measure.

warnings: this is an explicit, dark fic. minors, DO NOT INTERACT. this is a play on bacchanalia (or at least divinely-induced mania) so expect a complete bastardization of both canon and religious-adjacent imagery. din djarin is possibly (definitely) not a good guy. dubious consent, explicit p-in-v sex, oral (f!receiving), allusions to non-consensual p-in-v, breeding kink

REBLOGS AND COMMENTS MUCH APPRECIATED! Please let me know what you think or if I missed anything!

You still remember the day you first met the keeper of Mandalore. You remember the masked warriors that took you from the comforts of your small home.You remember the rough hands of the armourer who pressed her gloved hands against your lower stomach, as if reading the very pattern of your skin. She takes your pulse, as if incensed by the strong rhythm of your very veins. Her blood is strong. She shall sire the heirs of the Mandal’or.

And that’s how you end up in his bedchambers, scrubbed clean of dirt and grime so much so that you felt your identity rinsed away. So much so that it allowed you to exist within and without. To believe, momentarily, that the consummation of what you didn’t know to be your marriage occurred to someone else, a different version of you.

He was a gentle lover, even back then. When all is said and done, he provided you with a small meal, the gentle touches cleaning you again of spend. He asked you your name. You said it in a whisper, He showed you his scars when you couldn’t stop looking. And, in that warm silence from which all memories exist, you showed your own.

–

You supposed it all changed when he started leaving for battle more often. The weeks of warfare would return him to you: slightly, but unmistakably changed. Sometimes you would hear of him lumbering into his hallowed halls, bearing the heavy weight of his beloved darksaber. You would hear his steps before you actually saw him, pulling you closer with a drunken chuckle.

“How about a kiss for your warrior riduur?” Sometimes you think he truly growls before he takes your lips between his teeth. 

Sometimes you fear he would one day bite your skin clean off. You try to tell him once that it hurt. He responded by truly making your lip bleed, tongue running across the taste of iron and moaning. Even when you squeal, writhe in the pain, it’s almost as if he was looking for a spot that made you cry the most. Then he kisses you again, comforts you, calls you the most beautiful things. Cyari’ka. Light of my life, my sin, my soul.

You have not carried an heir, even if it was your purpose. You were surprised by the kindness when he asked you if you wanted a child in those early days of your marriage. You suppose you should have cowered in fear. And yet, perhaps his kindness has convinced you otherwise. So you ask him to wait. You try and read his features beneath his stormy gaze. But he knows how to mask himself well. He smiles, kissing your forehead.

“Whatever you say, mesh’la.”

He does not tell you how politics goes and so you learn to read between the lines. 

When he falls short of something, he takes– he’d grab you by the arm, press you down to the nearest surface, and sink his half-hard cock between your unprepared walls. He shushes you when you whine. He forces his fingers down your throat when you persist. He does not wait for you to come. He fucks you for his own pleasure, oftentimes leaving you with his seed between your legs as he goes off to distract himself with his ward.

But when he succeeds… you are reminded of the patient man at the night of your wedding. He’ll ask you of your day and chuckle as you redden, flustered to come up with some linear narrative. He makes love so softly and so gently that for a moment you think you finally understand what it was everyone seemed to see in him. He stops from simply being the Mandal’or, the keeper of his realm, the cunningly vicious commander-in-chief. He softens, he turns somewhat human. He asks if you’d let him. Ask as the prickling of his beard tickles the crook of your neck, letting you pull off your own little chemise of your own volition. Ask as he weighs your breasts and suckles on them so needingly. Ask as he prepares you, bringing you orgasm over orgasm with his fingers and tongue before slowly finally fucking up to you.

As he approaches you now, you try and see which hand you will be dealt with. He sees you, picking through the seeds from the gardeners, trying to decide which would be most suitable for the season. And when you see him, you see his playful smirk as he finally disables his weapon, clipping it to his belt before brushing back a few fallen strands of hair.

“Have you eaten, adi’ka?”

Only then do you know. It was a good day.

—

In the more recent weeks, it had become harder to separate your marriage with your duty. No matter how the Mandal’or shielded you, you still heard the whispers. You still saw the dark visors looking towards you– towards your too-empty womb. You swore you heard someone tsk once. Yet what stuck to you the most was when the Armourer herself visited your riduur so early in the morning.

You were barely awake, pretending to have fallen asleep under the sheets whilst the two of them spoke. The air was tense, and you understood why she had come. She had come to deliver an ultimatum.

“We sought for the most viable being to ensure the safety of your bloodline,” she had been saying. “But seeing that it is not the case, perhaps it would be deemed proper to… seek out another.”

“You will do no such thing,” Din finally intercedes, clearly enraged by the suggestion. You hear the sound of breaking glass, a sharp cuss escaping from him. Did his grip on his drink slip, by all means? “The matters of my wedding bed are none of your business. And I will keep it that way.”

You hear the soft sigh of exasperation. One for each of them.

“I hoped for it to be the same. But you are expected to sire heirs. And in avoiding so… you leave an already unstable, rebuilding world into more chaos.”

You stop listening. It is too much. What hurt most was the knowledge that she was right.

Maybe that’s why you let Din take you completely when you woke again.

He fucks up into you with renewed vigor, muscles taut and begging to be released He growls in your ear when he sees your face contort with pleasure just as your consciousness shakes you awake. “Precious girl, you’re so good-” When you kiss him, he kisses back, when you moan, it makes him all the more determined.

Ever since the night you consummated your marriage, that morning was the first time he felt the prickling ironies of the Maker. It felt good, too good to watch you take his seed so willingly. It was a pleasure he never seemed to understand before.

You try to ask him what the matter was but he does not answer. You look into his eyes and you almost see the way he seemed to look into a different plane of reality, opening himself up to complete and utter surrender.

If only you knew where that look of his would lead you… perhaps you would have tried to wake him from his trance. Instead you let him, fucking you all morning until his duties finally tore him away from you.

—

He began to tell you of how mandal’ors have originally conceived their heirs. Generations upon generations, he claimed, were formed in the temple, blessed by the Makers themselves. He talked of it with such passion, such interest, that you saw it so vividly in your head. The mandal’or and their chosen partner, dressed down in nothing but sheer white robes, drinking from the Living Waters of Mandalore. You could imagine the chants as he whispers it to you in bed, a calling for divinity. Nine months later, a strong heir is born into the world, kicking and screaming with divine power in their bones.

All the while, his bad days grew more and more frequent. His turbulent gaze grew more familiar. So did the sting between your legs when you sit with him at dinner. He stopped talking to you, and instead chose to whisper to himself, muttering incoherent languages whenever he thinks you don’t look. He goes on battles more. His advisors tell you he succeeds, violently, at that. You heard whispers of how he slaughtered a warring tribe, done so without hesitation that no one looked him in the eye as they marched home.

He now fucks you with abandon, uncaring if you happen to pass out in the barrage of thrusts one evening, pinning you down so hard you bruised in another.

More than ever, you begin to feel more lonely. It begins to hurt your chest when, month after month, your husband finds that you still bleed, that once again, you have failed to provide him an heir.

Maybe that is why you suddenly succumb.

When you enter your dark bedroom, hearing his mutterings in the dark, you pretend not to hear, sinking into the sheets as you watch him seated on the edge of his side of the bed.

“Do you think it’s possible,” you began, horrified to hear the terror in your voice. “Do you think it’s possible to do it again?” He looks to you, stormy eyes still unweathered as you try to find the right words.”If we went to the temple, dressed in robes, and drank from the living waters… do you think it would still be the same thing?”

You see the light break in his gaze, rooted as he climbs up the bed to kiss you gently. He smirks in the darkness, as if his prey had finally fallen into his trap.

“I’ll make sure of it, mesh’la.”

—

When you both entered the temple, he was in a good mood. He attended to you all morning, brought you food to bed, brushing your hair with his fingers repeatedly as he watches your movements. Perhaps he was waiting for the moment you changed your mind. But you couldn’t. You wouldn’t dare; it’s as if you knew his attitude would change the moment hesitation became apparent. So you smiled, asked him to help you dress, and followed him wherever he went.

Now here you stood, dressed in a thin white robe within the lower levels of the planet. It is quiet, and he is patient with you. It had been so natural, to kneel upon the obsidian banks of the Living Waters, to follow him in prayer, attempting your best to recreate the phonetics of Mando’a. And when you kneeled to cup fluid in your hands, it made sense. The water was cool and sweet to the touch, extinguishing the last embers of hesitation in your chest– and perhaps finally defeating your will, subduing you into the role the world has laid out for you.

It is difficult to describe the feeling of divinity cracking open your mind in submission. You feel pinpricks and shivers against your scalp, an electrifying presence that only grows stronger when Din Djarin presses his lips against the crook of your neck. He is so gentle about it, trailing his hands up and down your trembling torso, whispering pet names into your ear as you fully relax.against his touch.

Perhaps it was Pavlovian. Because whenever he spoke to you in Mando’a, it was like a shared secret, like nothing but the two of you mattered. Mesh’la, cya’re, adi’ka.

You try and respond whenever you can. Riduur, riduur, riduur.

He disrobes you, and the pinpricks of energy seem to follow his fingers wherever they went. “Sometimes I think you’re just divine,” he whispers, making you giggle as his rough beard scratches against the skin of your back, your thighs, the skin of your stomach. He seemed to stop right above where he imagined your womb to be, muttering once again in incomprehensible Mando’a, kissing the skin as you shut your eyes and melt into his touch.

In your hands, my love, you wanted to tell him, I find my devotion.

He lays you on a bed of smoother rocks, leaving himself on top of you, so close that you see that tranced look in his eyes, see how much intense it had been from the last time in the bedroom. You try and make him look at you, but he sees nothing, even with you sprawled, willing and brand new right before him. He focuses his actions on tasting your sweet little cunt, groaning at the feeling of your walls barely letting his tongue in.

“Always so tight for me, pretty girl.” He sounds so different, so distant.

So you shut your eyes. You pretend.

“Give me an heir, Din,” you finally whisper, spreading your legs for him, welcoming him to take. “A beautiful little heir…”

He does not even disrobe himself. But when he kisses you, he silences the doubts in your mind. His hands wander, exploring your skin anew before he finally cups your face gently, making you look at him before he carefully, lovingly fucks the head of his hard cock into your wanting cunt.

The stretch is glorious, comfortable. You feel your slick working to open you up for him. Your moan reverberates from the high walls of the caverns, combined with the feral growl that escapes the man above you. “That’s it. Just like that, cya’re. You like it, don’t you?” You try not to cry, feeling as if your husband had transformed right before your very eyes and you didn’t even know it.

You stare the man you love in the face, the keeper of Mandalore, the warrior divine, the bearer of the darksaber that tore from town after town. He kisses you again, and you try and recognize which parts of him remained the same. He is still Din. He responds to the same name. He kisses you the same way he does on the good days. He sounds the same, he still likes it when you tangle your hands into his hair and mewl needingly into his ear. You’d still follow him anywhere, even if he didn’t ask.

And then you try to recognize where he had changed. His hands pin you too tightly by your shoulders. Up close like this, you finally see the ghoulish dark circles under his eyes. He hasn’t been sleeping. His jaw, permanently locked as a tell of his alertness. It must have been weeks since he had ever felt at peace.

His rough fingers reach down to rub you through an orgasm, pausing to witness the way your body writhed from the pleasures brought about by your hand. He gets to have you this way. Only he gets to have you this way. Only he gave you the pleasure you felt burning through your bones. And it is enough. It is enough as he fucks you through the tidal waves, chasing his own release in a heavenly blend of cries and moans.

By the Maker, he thinks, perhaps You truly did exist. Only You are capable of creating such a glorious act of creation in her.

There is something different when he fills you up there, blessed by the Living Waters of his own planet, the same waters that sanctified him. He bites your lip until it bleeds, thrusting once, twice, before his knees buckle and he is falling into you, dazed and drunken from the very smell of your combined spent.

He makes you promise that you’ll never leave him. “Swear it, adi’ka. Right here where the heirs of Mandalore came into being.”

You promise. You swear.

He kisses you, and you try and pretend that you didn’t notice the way he had begun to force his mouth against yours. Even his kisses are changing too.

[foxglovefaun]

Hey yo!! I was just lookin over ur sketchbooks stuff, which is,,,,so grand and soulful I can’t put much words to it and wanted to ask do u use a specific type of pencil? Or any special thing like that?

thank you so much!! <3 ;0; my sketchbook is my safe place rn, so this means a lot. and i do! i have a lot of specific pencils. i have a series of tools that are in my everyday artbox, and i've narrowed down a collection that's been pretty reliable for me. i can introduce you! :) ...ok but r u ready for a infodump because

ok this is my everyday Graphite Mechanical Pencil Squad. I always have them in my box and i use them for just about every pencil drawing in my sketchbook.

(I added a post break because I didn’t think about it before :3 )

from top to bottom: - Steadtler: Mars Technico 2.0 -> used for longer pencil studies and anatomy stuff, as well as experiments with comic-style hatching. has a tiny built-in sharpener! I like using this for drawing the base for portraits coz it's got a real consistent value - Sakura: Sumo Grip 0.7 -> comfy. :) big. :) - Tombow: Mono Graph 0.5 -> my current baseline. I've used this pencil since 2021 when i first started recovering from burnout. I really like its weight balance, as the feed end is quite heavy. This pencil was engineered for writing though, so while it has a "rotating lead mechanism", it doesn't activate while I'm drawing. Apparently it's supposed to rotate the lead as you write so it stays sharp. :0 - Uni: Kuru Toga 0.3 -> very lightweight, sometimes feels fragile but is durable as hell. I use this for really fine lines, like details in the eyes or hatching around the nose in really small portraits. I used to use this size more in college, but I use it less nowadays.

speakin of that damb MonoGraph, i have S e v e r a l

I have six currently, which feels like a bananas number of mechanicals to carry at one time, but five of them carry different color leads that i use super regularly so i ignore this.

you probably are familiar with my multi-color sketches with blue and red and pink n stuff, and these are what i use for that. sometimes i use light blue to sketch, then clean it up with the dark blue, and then add portrait details with red. Other times i sketch with pink and then define everything with purple. anyway

i load them all up with Uni Nano Dia color leads. Historically I've used Pentel red leads and Prismacolor Col-Erase wood pencils, but these are my favorite now. They are all erasable and erase pretty well! (The lavender does not specify that it is erasable, but i assure you, it will submit to an eraser.)

speakin of erasers. This has actually been the most difficult squad to narrow down, as erasers are all super different from one another, even within the same brand. Sometimes they smear my shit, sometimes they rip up the paper, sometimes they lift okay but still leave a ghost. not these. These guys are reliable. They help me move. They text me back. - Muji: plastic eraser, hard type, black -> this was my biggest most recent surprise. Muji has very affordable minimalist materials that can look cheap on the surface level, but tbh I've never had an eraser serve me so well. When it comes to erasable marks, it lifts EVERYTHING off of my Talens sketchbook. I wish it came in a stick format for more control, but the brick will have to do for now. - Tombow: Mono Stick, plastic eraser -> bless. Soft to the touch but doesn't need a shit ton of pressure to lift stuff out and clean up. Performs consistently and creates a super clear surface. My favorite standard-sized stick eraser, hands down. - Tombow: Mono Knock -> badass. I've had this thing in my arsenal since 2008. I found my first pink one in Japantown San Francisco and carried it all the way to QC with me in 2020. It was finally put to rest after it broke in 2022, and was immediately replaced with the green one. It's kind of hard for an eraser, which is good because the skinny ones can tear under pressure, but it's precise, clean, and usually lifts everything out. Excellent for portraiture. It's also great for drawing on its own and I'll draw highlights or carve out shapes in big smudgy fields of grey. I highly recommend this tool. - Tombow: Mono Zero, elastomer eraser -> weird. so smol. does cool shit tho. This is my smallest eraser ever, and it took a while to find one in stock. It is so very fine that it has its own refill method and part of it is reinforced with plastic. It's clean tho, and so goddamb precise. - Kneaded eraser, brand ???? i dont remember, probably Mars : I love my kneaded eraser. I've always used it to press and lift when it comes to sketchbook stuff, but i recently learned that you can just kinda ROLL IT across your surface and it will lighten EVERYTHING, EVENLY. I lost my shit tbh, nobody ever told me I could use it like that and now I get legit excited to use it. Very satisfying. But also very sticky and sometimes Bad Texture, so I keep it in a little tin. along with the whole series i described, I also carry these with me in my box. Just misc tools that also live here. Tiny sharpener, blenders, supplementary erasers and pencils.

I also have a small frame-style box that I keep my basic wood drawing pencils in, as well as the tiny eraser and the 2.0 pencil because they fit. :)

Everyone lives in here, and i like that the box can sorta serve as a work surface too, using the lid like a lil table. It's also easy AF to just toss everything in there, so cleaning up my workspace takes less than a minute now.

i use all of these whenever doin sketchbook stuff. I always keep them in my newest travel box, which has served me very well when going down the avenue to draw outside. :)

i hope this gives u some feedback for choosing your own tools! :D I get my materials from all over the place, but when I was picking up the Mono Graphs en masse I was getting them from Stationery Pal at a pretty significant discount.

thank u for ur interest. :3 I have been wanting to assemble a post like this for a while and it felt good to just sit n think about my tools for a little bit. anyway. :3 take care. thanks <3 Hope this answered your question! (and hope it wasnt too much lmao sdfjkgskdjhfkjshd)

[theroyalhouseofwindenburg]

The Black Death: Part 6

On the fifth night of Wilhelm's confinement within the dungeon, he had become extremely ill. Boils covered his pale, sickly body as he sat feebly in the corner of the cold stone room. In his final moments, he looked up and couldn't believe his eyes. Before him stood three spirits—the ghost of his late wife Fiona, her severed head floating in front of her body, clearly enraged. She looked to Wilhelm and said, "You thought death would spare you from the consequences of your malevolence, Wilhelm. Your cruelty did not die with me; it festered and grew in the heart of our daughter, whom you callously mistreated after my passing. You dared to execute me when our child was but a tender three years old, denying her a mother's love and subjecting her to the darkness you embody. Your reign was built on the foundation of my demise, but now, in death, I return to witness your kingdom crumble and your soul wither in eternal torment. The suffering you've sown will be your only legacy."

Wilhelm looked blankly at the spirits, unable to fathom what he saw before his eyes. Before he could respond, the spirit of his father, King Wilhelm IV, interrupted, "Wilhelm, my son, you may have taken my crown 29 years ago, lifting the burden that weighed heavily upon me. Yet, as I gaze upon the path you've chosen, my heart is heavy with disappointment. The legacy you've crafted is one of cruelty and callousness, and in your pursuit of power, you've lost the essence of true kingship. May you find redemption in the afterlife, for your deeds have left a stain on the very realm you were meant to protect."

Finally, the sad spirit of King Wilhelm's dear uncle Arthur stood before him, bearing a somber expression. Arthur extended his hand to his nephew, and Wilhelm reached up to him.

The following morning, as the guards were doing their rounds, they saw that Wilhelm had met his demise, lying lifeless on the cold stone floor, covered in markings of the plague. The plague doctors were called to collect the King's body and deliver it to Westsimster Abbey. They wrapped him in a thick blanket and sealed it with wax to prevent further infection. Meanwhile, upstairs in the castle, Cordelia, Augusta, and Prince Wilhelm sat in their chamber reminiscing. Suddenly, the doors flung open, and guards poured in, accompanied by Sir Oliver Coles, the King's advisor. He was holding a note which he immediately read out to the family.

"It is with deep sorrow that we announce the passing of our sovereign, King Wilhelm V, who reigned over Windenburg from the year 1320 until his demise today, on the 4th day of winter, 1349. In mourning his loss, we reflect on the challenges faced during his rule. With the final toll of the bell, we bid farewell to a dark chapter in our history."

Oliver and the guards looked to the young Prince Wilhelm and bowed before him, stating, "The king is dead, long live the king." Wilhelm was blown away by this news; he couldn't believe his ears. Now at only 11 years old, he would have to rule a kingdom. Cordelia was shocked upon hearing the news, and sadness overcame her, more so for the lost potential in her late husband, now consumed by death's final grasp. Yet, Augusta was clearly overjoyed by this. The young King looked down to his guards in disbelief, knowing the weight that has been thrust upon him and the struggles he was bound to face.

On the morning of the 6th day of winter, crowds gathered around Westsimster Abbey for the funeral of King Wilhelm V. Many couldn't believe he was really dead. Wilhelm's body was placed on the altar that held many of his ancestors before him, guarded by two men. The young King, his mother Dowager Queen Cordelia, and his half-sister Augusta stood off to the side, staring in disbelief at the body. The King walked up to the altar and stood before the mass of citizens.

"Good people of Windenburg, Today, we gather not just to mourn the passing of a king but to acknowledge the pain caused by a chapter in our history. My father, King Wilhelm, ruled with a heavy hand, and the consequences of his actions weigh heavily on our hearts. I stand before you, not only as the heir to the throne but as a son who witnessed the suffering of our people.

In the wake of my father's tyranny, I extend a heartfelt apology to each one of you. The darkness that shrouded Windenburg under his rule will not define our future. It is my solemn promise to rebuild this kingdom, to mend the wounds inflicted upon it, and to restore the prosperity that once graced our land. To guide us in this journey, I advocate for the regency of my mother, Queen Cordelia. Her wisdom, compassion, and unwavering love for Windenburg make her the beacon of hope we desperately need. Under her leadership, I believe we can forge a new era—a chapter marked not by oppression but by unity, justice, and prosperity. Henceforth, I choose to be known as King Edward, taking my second name as a regnal name—a symbol of breaking free from the shadows of the past. No longer shall our kings be shackled by the mistakes of their predecessors. I aspire to rebuild Windenburg, not as an echo of the past, but as a beacon of hope for a brighter future."

With those words, King Edward concluded his address, his voice echoing through the abbey. The crowd remained silent for a moment, absorbing the weight of his words, before erupting into applause. They knew that they had a king who would lead them with compassion and determination, a king who would guide them through the challenges ahead. In the back of the crowd stood a group of religious figures, members of the Jacoban clergy, stood with anger etched upon their faces. Back at the Parish of St. Jacob, Paul Leudemond, the high priest of the Jacoban church, was particularly vocal in his opposition. He argued that Cordelia's regency would lead to a weakening of the kingdom, as it would undermine the authority of the king. He proposed that Richard, the late King Wilhelm's cousin and a staunch supporter of the Jacoban faith, be appointed as lord protector of King Edward. This move, he believed, would ensure the continued dominance of the Jacoban church and restore order to Windenburg.

"The appointment of a woman as regent is a grave mistake," Leudemond declared, his voice echoing with conviction. "It threatens to unravel the very fabric of our society. We cannot allow a woman, especially one of Bagley blood, to wield such power. It goes against the natural order of things."

Leudemond's words were met with murmurs of agreement from the clergy gathered around him. They nodded in unison, their expressions reflecting a shared sense of urgency and determination.

"We must act swiftly to rectify this situation," Leudemond continued, his tone growing more impassioned. "We cannot allow Cordelia to undermine the authority of the king. We must appoint Richard as lord protector of King Edward. He is a man of strong Jacoban faith, and he will ensure that our traditions and values are upheld."

The clergy listened intently, their eyes fixed on Leudemond as he spoke. They knew that their plan was bold, but they were willing to take the risk. They were prepared to challenge the authority of the crown in order to safeguard the future of Windenburg and the Jacoban church.

[multiwreckedmess]

Seonghwa Syndrome

Pairing: Robber!Seonghwa x fem!reader WC: 11k Summary: The joke that you’ll only meet a man if he breaks into your apartment suddenly becomes all too real.  Warnings: Starts rough, ends bittersweet. More detail under the cut. Seonghwa is really bad at being a bad guy but he’s not a good one either.

As usual this does not claim to represent Seonghwa or any member of Ateez. This is just silly fantasy. Please do not interact with my work if you are under the age of eighteen. This is for my comfort thank you!

TW/CW: Seonghwa is bad at being a bad guy, nearly suffocates the reader. Noncon restrainment, strangers who fuck, unrealistic. P in V sex, oral (fem receiving). Pet names (babe, baby) unprotected sex. ALL SEX IS CONSENTED TO PRETTY LOUDLY THOUGH HE’S NOT ALL BAD. I’m sorry if i missed something, i’ve been writing this for two years and just need it out of my drafts.

Sirens. Every night there were sirens. Sirens were a package deal with the roaches in the shoebox of a studio apartment you were able to afford. The city was so full of sirens their frequencies almost canceled each other out. An app pinged your phone resting on the nightstand, “ACTIVE ROBBERY 1 MILE AWAY Do you want to alert your neighbors?” It wasn’t even worth swiping to see the location. A friend had urged you to get the app after hearing the location of your apartment. Her reasoning was sound, if you knew a fight was happening you could avoid it. It made sense. A single woman in the city, just another tool, you argued with yourself. The semi constant pings only added to your notification clutter and numbed you to the violence surrounding you. Unless it was happening on your side of the block, you could ignore it.

Slowly the traffic sounds lulled you into a half sleep, sinking into your bed in your dark apartment. A wonderful dreamless black abyss of rest curled around your heavy arms and legs. Down down down, falling and tumbling. You jolt suddenly, soul smacking into your body as you return down to the waking world with a thud. A hand is pressed to your mouth.

Not your hand. Your brain desperately tries to understand the phrase. Not your hand, you repeat, mulling over each word. Not. Your. Hand.

Your first instinct is to fight. This is how you discover your hands have been tied in front of you, slip knots around your ankles. You throw the full weight of your body against the unknown perpetrator’s grasp, thrashing and wriggling to free yourself from it. Anything to get a good breath in, a strong yell. Maybe if you could just yell your neighbor’s name they’d hear it through the joining wall. His shoulder lands somewhere in the middle of your torso, knocking the wind from you slightly, forcing your limbs to quiet.

“Please. Please. Stop. Please. I don’t want to do this.” A man’s voice whispers urgently in the dark. “Please. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

It’s disarming. The pleading as if he is the one held captive by you. Your body is tired, chest heaving with every labored breath through your nose. As your eyes adjust to the lack of light you can barely make him out. All black, leather gloves, long black hair, black bandana covering half of his face.

Sirens.

Ducking close down to you his eyes lock with yours and flash with fear, a cornered animal. Both of you breathe together waiting. The pitch changes as the cops blaze down the main street toward the end of the neighborhood grid until you can no longer hear them. Fuck. As if they would’ve stopped anyway.

A long rip of cloth.

“Sorry.”

You worm under him as his grip shifts. Fabric presses to your mouth.

“I’m so sorry.”

Suddenly you are fighting to keep your mouth closed as his hand pinches the sides of your cheeks. Bunched cotton, almost overflowing, forced between your lips, gagging you.

“I really fucking hate this too you know.” He clamps his hand down again, you can hear the distinct tugging noise of duct tape being ripped from the roll, confirmed as he pulls his bandana down to bite and tear the piece off, replacing his hand with it with a sigh. “I’m not just saying that. I really do hate this.”

Handsome, you shake your head in revolt. How can you think that at a time like this? How quickly can stockholm syndrome occur? You chide yourself. But really, you’d have to google it when this was over. Assuming this would be over. Assuming you’d be able to google when it was all over. Assuming.

The man has busied himself with something at your window. A black duffle bag, of course. He bends down with a groan and tosses something back towards you. A brick is your first thought. You start plotting how to prevent him from bashing your skull in, itemizing all the things in your apartment that might be of value to him, appraising their approximate worth monetarily and emotionally. But the object lands too lightly on your bed to be a brick.

“Sorry, I had to use your bedsheet. I can at least pay for that, if not the therapy you’ll need.”

A wad of cash? You shift around and squint, knot tightening at your ankle. Sure enough a band of bills sits near your shin. What the fuck, you repeat over and over as he sidles up next to you, bed shifting slightly from his weight. You want to fight harder, fling your arms up at his head with a side swipe, but your body seemingly has accepted its fate with a whimper. The man is jittery with leftover adrenaline, leg bouncing uncontrollably. He curses, he does nothing but mutter curses and shake for a solid minute before jolting up again and beginning to pace a short distance next to your bed.

A tear slips from the corner of your eye. As attractive as he may be, he is frightening. His energy is erratic and unstable. In all of the anxiety ridden scenarios you’d thought up, this was not one of them. Your body is racked with sobs, choking on the fabric in your mouth, snot bubbling up in your nose. His footsteps are more frantic around your bed, eyes too full of tears to see him.

“Oh shit oh fuck,” you feel his weight press into the spot near your waist and you flail your arms out half heartedly towards your approximation of him, connecting but bouncing off of him without much heft behind your swing. Undeterred he presses a tissue to your nose and wipes down over the makeshift gag. “I’m. I’m not good at this. I haven’t had to do this. Oh fuck I’m so sorry.”

His voice sounds genuinely distressed. He’s so strangely polite, he’s so confusing. He could’ve left you to sob and drown in your own snot but instead he has busied himself with an almost sisyphean task of keeping your face relatively clean with gentle dabs and calming swipes. Suddenly your sobs turn to laughs. It’s ridiculous, it must be a dream, it’s unreal. Laughing and crying and shaking until your body can heave no more. The man is still next to you with your box of tissues half gone, used ones neatly piled on top of your phone. He seems relieved that you’ve quieted, shoulders relaxing downwards with a sigh.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats his mantra, low and soothing, “but the less you know the better.”

The man pads off into the dark of your room, leaving you to stare at the ceiling. You can’t help but wish you’d met under different circumstances, maybe at a bar or club or running errands. Certainly not in the middle of the night, bound and gagged on your bed. It had been a joke in your friend group that in order to meet someone, anyone, they’d have to come to your doorstep, but through the window seemed a little much. A harmless little joke about how you never got out anymore. A harmless little in group gag that you’d played along with turned into a fucking nightmare. How could this possibly end well for you? You’ve seen his face, heard his voice. However, if he was going to do something to you, wouldn’t he have done it already? You couldn’t quite remember from the true crime podcasts you’d listened to, how long you had to wait with your life in the balance. What sort of sick freak would do this? Ted Bundy. Ted Bundy was a handsome, well mannered man and yet he did the things he did. Fear rises in the pit of your stomach as you hear his footsteps returning to your side.

“A lady shouldn’t live alone in a second floor apartment. Don’t you know that’s dangerous? You should at least put some men’s work boots near the door,” you hear him chuckle slightly and wince. Oh great, the potential serial killer is giving life advice. He seems to be bent over oddly to one side, hand covering the other. “Do you have like…something like a first aid kit? Fuck, needle and thread might do.”

You look at him bewildered.

“I really don’t want to turn your apartment upside down to find it. I wouldn’t know how to put everything back and things might go missing. I’d hate to leave a worse mess than I already will.” He smiles, which you think is meant to look kind but comes off as sinister.

You halfheartedly nod your head towards your entryway again.

“I checked as best I could without moving anything but honey…” you hear a note of judgment in his voice.

You loudly humph and stare straight up. Fuck him, make a mess of your fucking apartment. Make a mess of your life. Make a mess of your corpse.

He sighs and sits on the far edge of your bed from you. You hear a rip of fabric again. Your sheets. “You know I’m not a bad guy.” He pauses.

You stare at him, incredulous.

“Okay well, I’ve done bad things but I’m not a bad guy. I swear there is a good reason. The less you know…” he trails off again, head snapping towards the sound of another passing siren.

Whole body tensed and alert, he breaks your gaze and watches the light scatter from the street reflect off the adjacent building and into your window, hawk-like, perched apprehensively. Staring at his side profile, you try to memorize every little feature, anything that might help the police identify him. Sharp jawline. High cheekbones. Full lips. It’s an itemization of the statue sitting in front of you, the only movement is his chest as he breathes slow measured breaths. Slim muscular build. Or at least he seems slim. The leather jacket he wears hides his true shape well, maybe the reason he wore it. You continue your itemization. Sculpted eyebrows. Are those his god given brows? No one could naturally have that shape. High cheekbones. Again, well shaped lips. If you gave this description to a sketch artist they might think you’d hallucinated the entire “experience.”

Lights having passed the man slumps back inwards, wincing slightly, only caught because of your intense focus on him. He doesn’t seem to care how much you stare at him, quietly accepting of the situation the two of you were in. It’s infuriating. The bindings on your ankles dig in more as you wriggle your legs again, attempting to kick out at him. He doesn’t flinch. Sweat drips down where your arms are bound to each other, if you could just bend your elbows enough to reach the tape covering your mouth you could scream.

But what good would any of it do? A wash of calm passes over you. What would one more scream in the night mean to the soundscape of the city? The rational part of you begs to give up, to let yourself slip back into sleep and hope that pain will be quick if anything. The animal part of you is raging, unwilling to go down without a fight. Didn’t you already lose the fight? Bound and gagged on your own bed, that seemed like losing.

You hardly notice the shift in the bed as the man gets up and hobbles away again, too at war with yourself. It’s not until the stove light comes on and blinds you that you notice that he’s moved at all. He doesn’t look well, by your estimation, even by the yellow light of your kitchen he looks drained of color. The slouch to his side is more noticeable as he digs through your pantry and fridge, still carefully closing the cupboards as though he lived with you. The kitchen isn’t much to speak of, a single line up of appliances and two small counters, one taken over by a drying rack and dishes, so there is not much for the man to look through. Still the search seems to exhaust him and he comes up empty handed. Another strange realization washes over you: if you were hosting him, if you weren’t being held hostage in your own home, you’d want to ask him the same question. What did he want?

Divorced from your body the scene is almost like a noir film. Things feel hyperreal, like watching a movie in full sixty frames per second. Every second of life is a shot in a soap opera. It’s a natural response to a traumatic event, the dissociation. You let it happen, as though you had a choice. The man shuffles back cautiously, giving you a once over. You imagine you look as gnarly as you feel, hair wild and unkempt, dead eyes, legs splayed, ankles and arms rubbed raw from fighting your bonds. You see it in a nicely framed shot, him towering over you, backlight by the stove light. It’s not a triumphant pose, it’s almost protective, slightly hunched over you. That’s when you feel him gently guide you to one side of the bed and secure a wrist in a loop of rope. He leaves you shuffled to the side and disappears from your line of sight, you don’t bother to move or fight or even look for him. You close your eyes as his fingers work to untie the arm bindings. Done with fighting you possum, limbs heavy and unsupported, pure dead weight. Yet even with his injury and slight build he seems to move you with ease, with the deftness of a person who is used to taking care of others. Still he holds tight to the wrist not yet bound to the bed as he pulls it to the new loop from the final corner of the bed. A lump forms in your throat, you are truly exposed to him. Eyes still closed, his weight on the bed shifts away from your side. You crack open one eye to sneak a glance in his direction. He’s busied himself with inspecting the rope burns on your arms, tutting to himself before getting up from the bed.

That’s when you start screaming.

Full body convulsing on the bed you make a scene. Kicking, flailing, choking on the fabric in your mouth. Hair is matted and in your eyes and sticking to your snot. It’s horrifying. You mean it to be horrifying. Every moment to convince him you are a human, whatever he is going to do to you isn’t worth it. Every moment you feel violent and on edge, an inhuman strength building in your body.

It all happens in an instant but feels like minutes. The fabric gag shifts just enough to unravel in your mouth, your labored breaths are just hard enough to pull the edge down the back of your throat. The panic shocks you still. You can’t breathe. Eyes wide and fixed on the man who is now slumped into your greyish green loveseat, you can’t talk. You can’t even make a sign to him that you are choking. Darkness creeps into the sides of your vision, already distant street sounds get farther away. You hope against hope that he notices, that he cares. There is a ringing in your ears, the thundering of a distant storm, then nothing.

Pain.

And air.

And warmth.

You cough. It burns your lungs. It is delicious.

You cough harder, mucus ejecting from you. Your abs hurt.

He’s staring down at you.

He has kind eyes.

“Why?” Your voice creeks and your lips are tacky from the adhesive of the duct tape.

The man pulls your head to his stomach in a rough approximation of a hug. Lumpy fabric pressing into your face and your cheek hits a cold slightly damp spot on his tshirt. His chest heaves above you.

“Seonghwa, my name is Seonghwa,” his voice trembles. “I just need a place to stay. Please. I’m so scared and I don’t know what I’m doing.” He sounds near tears and his entire body shakes.

“Untie. Now.” Your voice sounds cold and hollow, even to you. He lets your head down from his torso and occupies himself pulling the slip knots over your wrists. Your hands scrabble up his leather jacket, nails leaving half moons as you pull him to you, forgetting your bound ankles and twisting your spine uncomfortably. You’re not sure why you’re holding onto him like this. Clinging to him, arms around his neck, you can sense the shared hesitancy, uncertainty.

“I’ll leave tomorrow night, I promise. I promise,” he continues to repeat his last words until they lose meaning and form. His arms stay hovering, never closing in on you, giving you space to decide.

“Legs too.” Your hamstrings twinge and burn as a reminder of your splayed out state.

“Ofcourse, ofcourse, ofcourse,” he mutters into oblivion.

Newly released you inspect your limbs. Traces of rope burned into you in angry red stripes. The worst is your ankles, raw and bloody. While your arms may sting, it will likely only last a couple days. No matter how you think about the care your ankles will need to keep from scarring it’s hard to ignore the fact that the worst of the wounds are internal. A heat rises in your stomach, a burning fury.

Kneeling at the foot of your bed Seonghwa waits for you, head bowed, hardly the hawk he originally seemed to be. He waits for your decision, unable to look at you directly, as he should. Another person would take the opportunity to inflict the pain back. They’d be right.

“Seonghwa,” you put your palm to his cheek. It’s cool and damp and soft.

He flinches.

“Are you hurt?” Whatever you had originally planned flies out the window as he nods into your hand and melts. From hawk to kitten, man to mouse. Ungagged and bound he suddenly seems so much more fragile to you. Sliding off the bed you begin to move towards your kitchen, no matter how disarmed he seems you need protection. Your knees are uncooperative, wobbling and knocking into each other, landing your ass back on the edge of the bed. Seonghwa nearly teleports near you, hand hovering and waiting to brace your fall.

Shaking off the stumble you find a sizable knife from your drawers, one with some heft to aid you just in case, and a glass of water before returning to your bed. Grabbing the economy size bottle of painkillers from your bedside table you pop two in your mouth and swallow them. A light smack on your bare thigh you see Seonghwas hand outstretched, nudging you insistently.

“One or two?”

He wordlessly presses the tips of two fingers to your thigh. Although you offer him water he swallows both pills dry.

Both of you are utterly exhausted.

“Why?” It’s now Seonghwa’s turn to wonder fruitlessly. Of all the people you’d owe explanations to, he is at the bottom of the list. His finger ghosts over the red markings left by his rope. Goosebumps follow in his wake, hairs standing on end.

You wonder it yourself honestly. A small extraordinary act of kindness. You’d always been too soft, too willing to believe. It’s your turn to stare at the person on your bed. The most dangerous thing about Seonghwa was the element of surprise, you decide. He watches you in turn, like a hurt and mistrustful stray.

“We should swap your bandage,” you say, noting his hand pressed to his side.

“We?”

“Your sewing kit comment has me nervous,” you shrug. “Seems like it’s in a pretty awkward spot anyway.”

“Right.”

The way he follows you to the bathroom, it is clear he’s not in a space to argue with you. The mix of exhaustions, mental and physical, and pain weigh him down, the dual weights almost visibility dragging behind him. It gives you a bit of time to situate yourself in the small tiled bathroom. A full stock of hand towels, in various states of newness, a small first aid kit your parents had gifted you when you’d moved in, nearly completely intact, and of course your trusty knife. Seonghwa watches bemused as you drag out a plastic shoe storage bin full of knick knacks from beside the toilet and retrieve a spray bottle of wound wash.

“You can get nice bamboo shelves for behind the toilet, you know,” he leans casually in the doorframe.

“It’s money I don’t have.”

“I’ll buy it for you.”

“Are you my boyfriend?”

He reevaluates, “I can buy it for you.”

“You know money can’t solve everything.”

He flinches. “I can pretend. Please.”

“What happened to ‘the less you know, the less you are involved…’ huh?” You fold your arms over your chest and plop down on the closed toilet lid.

“You know what happened,” Seonghwa is sheepish, the dirty grout of your bathroom suddenly the most interesting thing in the room. His hair flops in front of his eyes which he doesn’t bother to move. There’s a definite charm to him. He should’ve tried being a door to door salesman instead of whatever it was he did. Housewives of the tristate suburbs would’ve loved him.

“Seonghwa,” you call to him, each syllable floated carefully through the air, beckoning.

The leather jacket, his carapace, thuds to the ground just outside the door. A small glint at his waistline catches the bright sterile light of the bathroom.

“Remove it,” you point the tip of your knife at the source of the shine.

“I’d never- I’ve never-” he stutters, hands flying up in protest.

“I don’t care. Remove. It.”

Seonghwa turns around unbuckling and shuffling the hostler and the concealed gun from his jeans. “It's not even loaded.” The heavy thunk of the hilt hitting the ground punctuates his words as he locks eyes with you.

“Then you won’t mind not having it.”

Seonghwa smells so good it intoxicates you. He really shouldn’t smell good. The closer he gets the less wits you seem to have. He’s like a deadly flower that draws in its prey with the promise of nectar but then drowns them in its inescapable sweetness. But he doesn’t smell sweet, it’s not a perfumed smell, just him. It makes you want to bury yourself deep in his chest.

Your hands slip under his black tank and glide along his stomach as though he were a gift that you were desperate to savor the revealing of. Even this soft touch has him tensed and ready to act at a moment's notice.

“I have to take this off to clean your wound, you know.”

“Mhm,” he inhales deeply and knits his brow. The arm on his uninjured side slides into the sleeve and down along his torso, letting you gently slip the shirt over his head and down to the opposite side of his body where the wound sat. A strip of cloth from your bedsheets wrapped around him in the middle served as his temporary bandage job. Carefully snipping and peeling the layers back you reveal the gash at his hip - red and angry, edges puffed up. Thankfully it seemed any oozing or bleeding had finished.

“Well, it’s not happy but I can’t say much more. I’m no nurse,” you continue to inch closer to the opening, inspecting for debris. Suddenly Seonghwa grabs your shoulder in an iron grip, abs tensing and face contorting. You cry out in pain pulling down and away from, twisting free, dashing to the door, totally forgetting your knife by the tub. Now you know which you are. Fight or flight, you choose the latter.

“Breath, tickles. Tickles, hurt.” He manages to stammer out, face settling between labored breaths, now sitting on the lip of your tub.

“Don’t fucking grab me like that again.”

“I’m sorry I-I-I- I don’t know what to say I’m sorry. Please.”

You glare at him, wary of the man half in your bath-both pitiful and dangerous. If he can’t even tense his abs in laughter how will he be able to support himself enough so that the water runs into the basin.

“Do you need a plushie or are you a big boy and can take it?”

He bites his inner lip and rolls his eyes, “I’ll be fine. It was a surprise.” His breathing is still labored but slower. “It hurts but I can do it.”

Wordlessly you approach the tub and sling your legs over the lip, silently thanking your past self for wearing shorts to bed. You pat your thigh, gesturing for him to lay back against you, draping his top half over the basin, lower half still dressed and stuck out into the bathroom. Tucking a hand towel into the waistband of his underwear you start up the water, testing it with the back of your hand before detaching the shower head and aiming it over the tear in his side. You can feel his back tense, shoulders reflexively curling inward. Somehow he remains calm and noiseless, knuckles clenched white. Water rushes over him, some traveling down your legs, pink hue gathering around your feet and swirling into the drain. A moment of compassion for a wounded creature, a potential Darwin Award winning episode in your life. Eventually Seonghwa’s expression relaxes, breathing slowly in your lap.

“Thank you, my night nurse,” he speaks softly and smiles, eyes closed. You should kiss him, his lips look lonely.

“I really think you need to go to the hospital.”

He shakes his head against your thigh with a hum. The two of you sit there a few minutes more, the whine of the water pressure in the pipes and splash into the tub filling the silence. Seonghwa looks peaceful for the first time since the beginning of the ordeal. It feels wrong to appreciate him like this but the intrusive thoughts won’t stop flooding your guilty brain. Remember to google stockholm syndrome -- the thought flits through your mind. Mindlessly you find your arm maneuvering the shower head over to Seonghwas head, carding through his hair with your fingers, wetting the mop on his head. Nails gently scratching into his scalp you can feel his head get heavier as though you had hypnotized him by washing his hair. You sigh too, he’s like a kitten. Flighty but easily soothed. Legs drenched with runoff you finally turn off the water, Seonghwa still weighty on your thighs. Curse your general love for humanity.

Craning his neck Seonghwa starts to attempt to sit up with a groan.

“Just sit, we need to let the wound air dry,” you say, placing a hand on his chest to weigh him back down. You sound surprisingly stern and robotic, but it doesn’t seem to phase the man sprawled across you and your tub. The redness at the site of the injury seemed to have been tempered slightly, much to your relief.

“Neosporin?” He cracks an eye open and searches your face.

“Hypochlorous acid, once it’s dry. Then I’m going to circle the red area with a sharpie to see if it grows larger and then we’ll put some gauze and tape on you okay?”

He nods and waits patiently for you as you work on him. Seonghwa barely even flinched as the sharpie tickled his side while tracing the borders of inflammation. He even stood as you bandaged his side, gently tacking the gauze to him as you taped the edges, planting a kiss on the middle as your mother had done to you as a child. The two of you could’ve fooled the world into thinking you’d always been like this.

But there were sirens, ringing ever so faintly in the distance, to break the spell. Sirens to remind you how you got here. Sirens that made Seonghwa hunch, tense.

“You should move,” he says bluntly.

“Yeah. Planning on it.”

“Sorry.”

“You know you say sorry a lot for a home invader.”

Somehow the bandage and damp tousled hair make him look even more attractive. You could swear up and down that it was some sort of hormonal imbalance. Maybe it was the position he’d assumed on your bed, shirtless with his knees bent and akimbo. A textbook picture of manspreading, usually obnoxious and yet he made all the difference. Or even it could’ve been the hazy look in his eyes, a mixture of relief and appreciation, a look you’d not gotten much in your life.

You could turn him in right now.

If you just take the phone on your nightstand all you’d need to do was hold the emergency call button down for 10 seconds.

Your heart skips, eye flicking to the peaceful Seonghwa, studying you.

“Do I still make you nervous?” He looks concerned.

“Yes.”

“Would it help to sit down?”

You still haven’t moved an inch, stuck in the bathroom doorway. The simpler solution for getting help would be running and banging on a neighbors door. Or just running into the street, to one of the many corner stores.

Seonghwa groans as he gets up and shuffles towards you, palms up as an offering of peace. Your ability to run safely closing in as he approaches.

But you stay anchored in place and take his hand. Slowly his hands creep up your arms until you are chest to chest. Seonghwa can feel your body quake in his arms. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. His thoughts loop around that phrase, spiraling, fixating.

“The thing on my waist? It’s from hopping a fence. I got caught and sort of impaled I guess. If that helps,” he feels his ears burn with embarrassment. You can almost see the red flush creeping up his neck from where your head is buried. “Now the money…see that I can’t tell you but…you are the only one who has been harmed in the uhh…getting of the money.” He chuckles as he moves his hands from your shoulders, winding his arms around your mid back, cradling you. “I really try not to hurt anyone. I really, really try.”

Your body stills and softens, adrenaline slowly working its way out. Seonghwa feels your weight push back into his palms resting softly along your spine. He stiffens and prepares for the drop, the collapse, but you simply bend into him. It’s almost romantic.

“Would you kiss me?” It’s an absurd question springing from an intrusive thought. A terrible deep dark thought. And yet the phrasing makes it feel silly coming out of your mouth. Almost a request but not quite there, a part of your rational mind keeping you from asking outright.

“...kiss? Like now?” Seonghwa stares down at you, expression unreadable.

“...in the grand scheme of things. Would you?” Your cheeks heat up under his eye and you burrow your face down into his shoulder again.

“Yeah. I would. I could now, if you want.”

“Mmmmaybe,” you hum in reply.

His lips brush against your forehead, “you kissed me where it hurt so…I’m returning the favor I guess.” Seonghwa drops his embrace and returns to the bed, satisfied with his attempts at calming you. He smiles slightly to himself, watching you follow him and sit warily on the side. Your bed is a single; a sensible size for a single girl in a studio apartment. The two of you fit uncomfortably to each side, nearly sliding off in an effort to keep space and modesty. This gesture feels strange after the events of the night, yet comforting to the sliver of your mind which was made up against Seonghwa.

Seonghwa notices goosebumps trail up your arms, your slight recoil and hesitancy to touch the torn covers. “You could hold me if you want. I’ve been told I run warm.”

He wants so desperately to go back in time. To undo all of the past few hours. To choose another alley to run down. Another apartment to try the window of. The guilt settled heavily on his chest, he’d chosen the absolute right apartment for his escape. Poorly guarded, close to the alley, single woman inside with her defenses lowered and a heavy sleeper. If only he was a different person. He was what was wrong. If it wasn’t him it could’ve been much worse, the thought made him shudder. Harm coming to you, the person who had so carefully washed and wrapped him, his muscles tensed in response. No, it was best that it was him.

Seonghwa does run warm. Or maybe all humans do. At this point you aren’t sure how you hadn’t noticed if either statement was more true. Still, the heat radiating from him as you tentatively press your spine into his undamaged side feels good. Hand resting on the hilt of the knife beneath your pillow, Seonghwa’s slow steady breaths hypnotize you. In and out, expand and contract, fullness and emptiness. His breaths gently press him closer to you. Sinking deeper into the bed you once thought of as your liferaft the tension in your body drops like an anchor into the sea. Almost nothing could pull you from the weight of weariness that had set in.

That’s when you see them. Slowly rotating red and blue lights. No sirens. Sitting perpendicular to the mouth of the alleyway, blocking the road.

No way.

A heavy thud at your door echos in your tiny apartment.

No fucking way.

“Ma’am?”

A second series of heavy knocks rouse a bleary eyed Seonghwa.

“Whossat?”

“Ma’am, it’s the police, we just need a moment.”

Why can’t the goodness of humanity ever work in your favor?

“Just a moment!” you hear yourself call back in an unnaturally chipper tone.

Cracking open the door, your eyes meet his eyes - deep sockets with larger bags. His 5 o’clock shadow long into extra hours. He looks bored, or tired, maybe just generally over the whole night shift. It occurs to you that you haven’t looked at yourself in the mirror since the beginning of the night.

“I’m sorry officer, I just woke up…” you hesitate, your tone is pitched higher in an attempt to sound amenable. “Is there an issue?”

The grizzled man studies your face for a second, measuring his response. “Well miss. I received a request to check in on your well being. It seems there’s been some…unusual activity at your residence.” His lips press to form a flat line, blank expression holding. Waiting for you to talk. It's hard to escape his eyes, your stomach forms knots around itself from holding the mounting ways of responding. You know he wants you to talk. You can’t talk. You have nothing to say. You have too much to say. You can’t decide what to say. Nails dig into the several layers of paint on the door, leaving small crescents in their wake.

“I-I-I-” you stutter, trying to fill the awkward air, keenly aware of the discarded gun laying casually on your floor, close enough that a few steps past the threshold would be enough to spot it. “I brought my boyfriend home for the first…well I just assumed my neighbors…well my last neighborhood…see my last neighborhood was much nicer and they didn’t seem to really…” your tongue trips over your excuses, fumbling this way and that. You can feel the officer’s eyes boring holes in your face, watching you boldly flail in your entryway. Suddenly the intensity of the man’s gaze is gone, moved onto another target. A hand gently placed at your waist slides across your stomach and pulls you into a back hug.

“Sorry sir. Next time we will…uh… ‘experiment’ at my place,” Seonghwa’s voice is gravelly, you can almost hear the slight smile curling at the corners of his lips. You can certainly feel the subtle knowing nod he gives the police officer. He cradles you closely, almost protectively, chin propped on your shoulder, as though you were a real couple. Your fingers reflexively search for his hand, weaving into the space between his fingers.

Seonghwa prays silently that the old misogynistic ‘bro code’ had not missed this man’s ears in teenagerdom. The slight nod to a wild night in, the cheeky eyebrow raise, even down to mussing the back of his hair up and appearing only in his boxers and t-shirt, all carefully calculated to sell a story to this audience of one. “Baby,” his voice teasing, “you didn’t tell me your neighbors were so interested in you! Did you think I’d be jealous?” He plants a small peck on the side of your neck, tickling you, a poorly suppressed giggle erupting to break the tension. It feels believable to him. It feels real. The officer’s expression softens.

“I’m so sorry officer, it won’t happen again.” The short lived smile faded, you stare sheepishly at the floor between yourself and the policeman.

“Ack, I figured,” he huffs. “Just get to sleep you two.”

“Must be a slow night if you’re responding to this kinda call,” Seonghwas winks back at him.

The officer rolls his eyes and shakes his head, turning away from the scene. “You kids have a good night.”

Door closed, you heave a sigh and shake off Seonghwa’s limbs to turn to face him. He’s smirking. And also less dressed than you left him. And annoyingly cute. Maybe even sexy. Heart jumping to your throat you re-evaluate, definitely sexy.

“You lied for me.” He continues smirking, tongue caught between his teeth.

“Not really.” You try to walk it off but he doesn’t budge, keeping you in the little alcove by the door. God why do you feel your heart fluttering?

He leans on the frame of the arch, eyes raking over you. “You lied for me to an officer of the law.”

“I just didn’t say the whole truth.”

“You called me your boyfriend.”

“You called me baby.”

“You started it.”

“Excuse me. You definitely started it. ALL of it.” You’re incredulous, flames fanning the sides of your face. Tension stretched thin like a rubber band waiting to snap. You want to grab him and do…something. You hadn’t figured out what you were going to do after you touched but you were sure it wasn’t good.

“I never lied.” He sounds so cocksure and annoying, just standing there, unaffected.

“But you started it.”

“And you didn’t finish it so what now?”

Neither of you had noticed it, the way your faces slowly inched closer and closer with every volley back and forth. Noses nearly touching. Eye crossing and unable to fully see his face you can feel his steady weighty breaths on your collarbone. You need him to admit it. Moreso you need him for yourself.

You kiss him. It’s a brief and forceful meeting of lips, crashing together with the full weight of your anxieties and frustrations. The world spins as he reciprocates with equal force, chest pressing to yours. In the fray your back ends up against the wall, arms draped over his shoulders.

“I started it,” Seonghwas eyes are half lidded, lips red and parted, waiting for your next move.

“And I want you to keep going.” You pull him by the nape of his neck to you into another bruising breathless kiss which he eagerly chases, pressing his hips and slotting his leg between yours. It’s just enough pressure to make you dizzy. Kissing him feels dangerous, ill advised. You like how close he is, you want him closer. Your hips rock of their own volition against his bare thigh.

When he moans into your mouth your brain numbs momentarily, reverting to base instinct, driven by the need to hear him again. All the sirens in your body set off at once. A bad idea. But you don’t care, you ride the rush of adrenaline to the last drop and pull away once more.

“Normally I'd fuck you right here but my fucking side…” he gasps and gulps, forehead still pressed to yours.

Staggering only slightly, you pull him blindly backwards towards your bed until the backs of your calves touch the familiar wooden framing, tumbling into the squeaky box spring. Gathering yourself to your hands and knees with Seonghwa in front of you, you indulge in him, hands trailing up the front of his torso, a known path by now but finally able to properly appreciate him; firm and warm beneath your fingertips. He’s lithe but strong, a good build for a cat burglar. You kiss right below his belly button, right about the waistband of his boxers, a smooth expanse of soft pale skin. Feeling his abs tense and release with his sharp intake of breath is the strongest hit of dopamine you’ve ever felt in your life.

“Oh fuck yes,” he sighs into a moan. Your hand slowly stroking his growing erection a small wet spot begins to form on the cloth. Mouthing his bulge you feel him throb, hips stuttering, his hands fighting him by his side. You want to show him it's okay. You know why it shouldn’t be okay but you need something to be. Tracing your cheek his nails are well kept and smooth, cuticles trimmed. Not the hands of a man who was made for violence. Slowly he shifts forward, tipping you onto your back.

“You’ve done too much for me,” he breathes heavily, carefully hovering over your lower torso. “Let me do something for you.”

Losing sense of time and place as you stare at him, he tugs your sleep shorts off with little help from you. He looks up from between your thighs, his belly pressed to the mattress, face inches from your mound. A shiver of heat spreads from your chest outward. He’s a hawk again, perched and ready for the kill. Handsome, dangerous, hungry.

Mouth hanging loosely your gazes remain locked as he lowers himself to you, face shifting again from animal to demon, making a show of flicking your clit with the firm tip of his tongue. He wants to see you squirm and writhe in pleasure, erase the memory of the pain he caused.

“Seonghwa,” you fight to keep your thighs open as you moan his name. You’re glad you know at least this much about him, toes curling and flexing.

Pleased with your reaction he inserts his middle finger, crooking upwards. Lapping at your button with short sure strokes, you feel the familiar fuzz of arousal clouding your brain. Fingers threading through his hair you push the curtain of bangs back momentarily. His eyes are closed, lids fluttering lightly as his pillowy lips envelop your slit. Lewd slurps and pops and moans fill the room, punctuated by the squeak of the bedframe, shifting as his hips subconsciously hump into the mattress.

“So tight. Gotta prep you. Don’t wanna hurt-again,” he emerges, mumbling. It sounds like nonsense to your cotton filled brain.

Nodding along you watch him insert a second finger, curling it to match and drag along the front wall of your cunt. It feels impossibly much, his long tongue, his slender fingers stroking softly against your spot. Almost as if to punish the good samaritans for calling in your very real cries of distress he adds a third finger, an enraptured wail escaping your lungs. Eating you like a starving man whose last meal is your cunt, you grab his hair forcefully, without thinking, to stabilize yourself.

“Good girl,” his guttural growl that vibrates from his lips to your sex has you seeing stars. Heels digging into the bed as your hips jut upwards, allowing his arm to snake under your ass to hold you to him.

“Coming. I’m coming. Fuck- oh god- Hwa-” your voice trembles as you babble helplessly trying to warn him. “ComingcomingcomingcomingCOMING.” Back arched your walls seizing and clenching around his fingers fuck you through your high, waiting for the crescendo to cease. He pulls his face from you expectantly as his fingers find their target. Your chest feels like it’s going to burst, abs tensed impossibly tight, you want to tell him something but your jaw moves wordlessly, connection to your brain severed. Everything happens in both an instant, your soul leaving your body momentarily as you climb higher than you ever have. With a sharp gasp you cum, liquids drenching his palm and your sheets.

“Yes oh fuck, thats it,” Seonghwa almost speaks for you, dipping his head down again to kiss oversensitive clit carefully. He’s messy, long tongue licking around his slick cover jaw and lips, three fingers still buried inside of you, slowly and subtly fucking you as you come down from your high. “I didn’t push you too much right?” A twang of concern running through his tone.

“Hwa, I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”

He gulps and nods.

“Cmon, what happened to the man who tied me to the bed and nearly suffocated me?”

His grin returns, “oh you liked that?”

“No. But I like this now.”

Leaning over you he kisses your nose, you can smell yourself on him faintly, his natural aroma tinted by yours. The rough edges of his bandage tickle your stomach with each breath. Both of you are breathless and starry eyed. So far from your studio bedroom that you could’ve sworn you were floating alone on a raft at sea with him.

You don’t get a chance to look properly at his cock before it's laying heavily on your mound, aligned just so it brushes over your clit. Seonghwa gazes down, eyes wide, telling you everything you need to know.

“Will it fit?” You stare up at him doe-eyed. “It feels so big.”

“Don’t worry about that,” he whispers, reassuring. Slowly running himself along you, shaft wet with your juices, the valley of your cunt looks like it can barely accommodate his girth.

“Please, I need it.”

“I want to fuck you so badly, but we-”

“Please,” you mewl, the friction building a tight coil in your core, painfully clenching in on itself. “Fuck, Hwa, please more please-” you beg in broken up sentences. Both of you move in sync, his hands pinning your hips below him, grinding into your tight wet slit. An exquisite sloppy mess mixes and marks both of your bodies in new ways. If you could just move your hips high enough from the mattress you could press him past your entrance, just the tip, it would be enough. The mere thought forces your pleas harder and faster and more insistant.

“I know but we need a condom,” Seonghwa cranes his neck to survey the room, no obvious convenient location to store a box or even a spare few foil packets.

“You don’t have?” You practically yell.

“I was--, this was not--,” Seonghwa stutters. “The last thing I thought about was fucking when I got ready tonight to be honest.”

“I’m okay. I don’t have any--I’m on--”

“You’re fine? You don’t--” you both overlap hurriedly. He is easily convinced by your assurance, letting the fat mushroomed tip of his cock slide down your slit to prod at your entrance. “You’re so fucking wet I-- if you are sure.”

Spreading your cunt with his thumbs he slides the first inch in, testing the waters. Watching you stretch around the head is electrifying. The way your walls hug his cock so tightly he nearly bursts at the seams there, huffing and puffing. What doesn’t help are your little whimpers and whines, subconscious to you but deafening to him. All consuming in his blood.

“When was the last-” he gasps, withdrawing for his own sanity for the next push.

“I don’t remember- I don’t know- please-”

A second attempt, this time almost half of the way before your pained sounds start, nose scrunching and brows knitting. Each inch that makes it past brings a sick sense of accomplishment flooding warmly into your chest. Seonghwa mutters in time with each circular pass of his fingertips over your clit. “God you’re amazing, you feel so good,” he hisses and groans. “Just a little more, that’s it, you’re doing so well, taking me so well. I know, I know babe it hurts, just be a good girl and take a little more.”

His eyes roll back in his head as he cages himself over you, pushing the final inch past triumphantly. His chest pressed to yours, the shared warmth, the sound of his breaths, the sheer closeness, it’s the first time you feel safe since the incident began. It’s overwhelmingly nice. Your chest tightens and a tear slips out of the corner of your eye.

“You ‘kay?” Seonghwa kisses your cheek, careful not to squish you below him.

“It’s so nice,” you burble.

Tenderly he kisses your nose. “Told you not to worry.”

Rolling his hips into you he barely pulls himself back before thrusting up. The deeper he pushes the more you can feel him in your guts. He lays his head on your shoulder, nose pressed to your throat to hear your small soft moans better. Time seems to contradict itself in the moment, too fast but so slow. Neither one of you wants to leave it. But hormones have other ideas. Your clit aches and Seonghwa isn’t fairing much better, a low groan spilling involuntarily from him.

“Wan’ you to cum again. gotta- on my cock,” he’s breathless as he increases his pace. You want to cum on his cock. The way it feels so complete, nestled deep in you, you want him to know how whole you feel. It’s difficult from below but you do your best, rolling tightly back onto him, sweat slicked bodies easily sliding together. Blood abandoning your brain in favor of your cunt leaves you in a haze, eyes unable to focus.

“T-touch-” you mumble, fingers wrapping around his arm to try to move it south. Luckily he gets the hint, snaking his hand down between the both of you. Each circular motion of his fingers winds you closer and closer, choruses of yes’s flow uncontrolled from your lips. It burns but you can deal with it later, for now you chase the pain back with promises of pleasure. Arms slung over his shoulder you hold him to you, more frantically grinding against each other than thrusting. Your hips kick up as you release with a small shaky sigh, muscles of your core contracting around him expectantly..

Seonghwa’s eyes shine as he looks at you, all his handiwork. Work he can be proud of. Blissed and exhausted below him, dopy smile plastered to your face. Detangling himself he leans back, smirking as he slowly drags his cock along your walls.

“Feels so good, don’t stop.” You slur.

“Can you cum again?”

“Dunno.”

He growls under his breath turning into a chuckle, “not a no?”

“Fuck I-, just don’t stop. It really,” there are words that you search for in your quicksand laden brain, wading through the muck they feel hopelessly lost to you, heavy and sluggish.

Seonghwa returns to your neck, palm cupping your breast, fingers busy playing with your nipple as he continues his long slow thrusts. Your skin collects condensation and sweat, droplets running everywhere, soaking into the sheets. Not that you mind, not that you can currently tell. The slight fray at the end of his moans is all you care about. The throb of his cock against your walls as you fuck, unhurried by the encroaching dawn.

“I need to cum,” he sounds apologetic. “Babe, do you want to cum again?”

“Mhmm,” you nod against the side of his face. “I can one more.”

With a kiss he gathers you underneath him, pulling your hips into just the right position for him to easily pound into you. Even 20 minutes prior you couldn’t have imagined taking him at this speed. Practically pressing your knees up to your ears your weary legs shake as you sob in delight. You’ve never felt so full, so overwhelmed. Blunt tip rubbing against your gspot, in this position you can’t brace yourself for the climax.

“I’m-it’s-I’m-” you stutter. “Seongwha, Hwa-”

He looks more beast than man as he grits his teeth, “I know, me too.” He loves this feeling almost more than cumming. The seconds before. The uncontrolled trembling. The power he holds as you’re folded beneath him, using your body as a means to an end.

His ass flexes, hips suddenly erratic. Your mouth is open but nothing comes out as the world seems to darken. The second you feel the first spurt of warmth filling you, you cum around him. Both of you are panting and grunting, ready to collapse. Biological imperatives working for you, your walls squeeze him dry. A mixture of his and hers cum slowly forcing its way out of you and around the base of his cock. His lips stay on your neck and collarbone and cheek, kissing softly at the skin there.

It’s cold, you’re thankful for his warmth pressed firmly on top of you. You want sleep, you want rest. Now you think you can maybe find it, breath slowing as your eyes close. He withers slightly inside of you, falling out with a soft plop.

“What do you need to clean up?”

You shake your head, “just give my pjs.”

Out of the crack of your eyes you can see him, shifting slightly to gather his bearings in the apartment again. Once again he surprises you, returning to you with a perfectly warm and damp washcloth, slowly wiping off the mess left streaking down your buttock and thighs. Things feel normal. The night is finally calm.

“If you prefer, I can give you-” he mutters as you wriggle slightly at his touch.

You hum, “no it feels good.”

“Ah-oh,” he stutters and smiles. “So you like being taken care of?”

“Not sure,” the admission is easy. “It’s not something I’m used to. This at least, this feels nice.” It sounds more sad coming from your mouth than it had sounded in your head, awkwardly tripping out with unexpected bare honesty. Not that much was left to hide from the handsome stranger.

“I wish I-no-well-” Seonghwa sucks his breath back. Helping redress you before hopping back into the bed. The birds chirp in the sudden silence. “I’ll just need a couple more hours of your care. I’m sorry.”

You must’ve rolled and wiggled and wormed your way to his side, limbs and eyelids heavy in a pleased hazy sleep. Even though the man is mostly skin and bone and muscle you manage to find the perfect valley of his collarbone to rest your head on. The day is well risen by the time you shake yourself from the blanket of sleep.

Seonghwa’s jaw is slack, opened slightly as he lightly snores. It’s cute, airy, more of a wheeze than a honk. An arm is tucked behind his head, the same knee bent up to the ceiling. You’d be forgiven if you’d thought he was simply leisurely resting his eyes instead of dozing heavily in the mid morning sun. His hair is sticking wildly in every direction, haphazardly covering half his face.

“I have to check your bandage,” you nudge him. He groans as you peel back the gauze carefully. The jagged gash isn’t worse, at least in your untrained opinion. The edges are inflamed but the redness and swelling hadn’t worsened from the untreated hours nor the vigorous fucking.

Seonghwa grimaces, then laughs. “I like it when you touch me.”

“Pervert,” you try to hold back your own smile as you spray his abdomen with wound wash to rebandage him.

He stays where you leave him, in your bed relaxing in the midmorning sun. The only sun your apartment gets. In the pool of light he looks more like a cat than a hawk, smiling drowsily. Everything feels normal, copacetic aside from the torn bedsheets and tumble of clothes that sit near the bathroom door. It could pass as an everyday Saturday morning from a wild night out. Except you don’t have those, wild nights out. It’s what you imagine a wild night out after could look like, for someone who isn’t you.

You pat around barefoot, reaching into cupboards and the fridge, grabbing the making for cereal. Two of each for the first time in a long time. The slight clattering is cheerful and bright. Seonghwa stays still with his eyes closed, slight smile passing his lips. Despite it all, you are glad you lied.

“I don’t need that,” he states simply, eyes still closed. “I’ve imposed enough.”

“Don’t be a baby, it’s already poured,” the dull clang of the bowl hitting the tiny table set for two punctuates your sentence. Hand on your hip, you suck your teeth, eyebrow cocked. Waiting. “It’ll get soggy.”

He hrmphs his way from the bed. Rolling dramatically off the side and slouching his way to the diner chair you’d bought from a liquidation sale. Seven dollars and virtually indestructible, a steal. You can’t help but chuckle to yourself. Steal. Seonghwa sits, lowering his face close enough to the bowl that when he eats he practically speed-shovels the mixture of crunchy cereal and sloshing milk from the bowl directly into his mouth.

“You’re so strange, you know that?”

“Didn’t seem to mind that last night,” he gulps down a mouthful of chewed bits, “when you called me your boyfriend.” He pauses again, finishing off the rest of the bowl by picking it up and tipping it back into his mouth.

You can’t stop thinking about him. His slender body curled around you, warm skin to warm skin. How good he felt filling you up. Toes curling reflexively to a point, the butterflies in your stomach feel more like flying bricks rocking around your intestines. His bare leg bumps into yours beneath the table and you jump clear out of your chair. Seonghwa also retracts noticeably, jutting backwards from the table to give you space.

“Are you okay? It’s just me, just my leg. I swear I’m not trying anything.”

Your heart breaks a little as you watch his face wracked with concern and guilt. Arms outstretched, fingers spread wide to indicate he means no harm. “I’m fine, just startled. Not used to another person being there I guess,” you try to laugh it off.

“Did I make you like that?”

“I don’t think you helped.”

Seonghwas eyes plead with you, big dark irises searching for an answer he can’t find. “Can I? Can I help? I need to-”

It hurts to watch, “you don’t have the time,” you snap. You hate yourself for feeling sorry for him. For taking care of him. Still you can’t help yourself, swirl of emotions twisting and writhing like a snake in your gut.

“But if I did-”

“But you don’t.”

“I could-”

“You can’t. Seonghwa. You can’t. You made a choice before you even knew my name. Here are your consequences. I don’t know what carefully crafted plan went awry that you ended up here in my apartment but what’s done is done. If you turn back now I’ll look like an idiot so you have to keep going. If it isn’t to fulfill your original goal, make it so that this nightmare wasn’t for nothing.”

Seonghwa can barely manage a whisper, “I wasn’t all bad though, right?”

You groan, throwing your head back dramatically. “No okay, you fuck great but really…? Really?”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t still thinking about it,” he says from the corner of his sheepish half smile.

Your thighs squeeze together as a flush of heat migrates between them. “Yeah thinking about what kind of idiot fucks someone who held her hostage in her own apartment.”

“Thinking about what kind of idiot misses his window of escape for a second round.” Seonghwa’s hand rests just millimeters from yours on the table, so close your brain swears it can feel the sparks of electricity at the tips of his fingers. Your pinky twitches, smacking his.The room is still humid from the rainy night in a way that sits in your lungs and clings to your skin. Fingers laced with yours, he tugs gently, most of a suggestion to come closer, guiding you to his lap. You swing a leg over confidently, bulge in his boxers evident to the both of you.

“Second? She must be really dumb to let him.”

Seonghwa hums a reply, lips already pressing to your collar bone. For as angular of a man he appears to be, he’s soft when he’s nuzzled into your chest. Your shampoo smells different when it’s in his hair. “Can we take your shirt off?”

Everything that was intense and heavy from last night has lifted. Soft sighs and giggles emanate from both of you, his fingers bumping into yours clumsily as you both reach for the hem of your pj top. Normally you’d cower close, or at least that’s what you did with the last person. With him, the promise of impermanence gave you courage.

Tits out, Seonghwa’s eyes blown wide, you roll your hips back and slip your hand into the waist of his boxers, just enough to pull his cock free. He fits snugly between your folds as you rock back and forth over him, grinding your swollen sex against him.

“Did I die?” His eyes are hazy as he rakes them over you. “God I must’ve died. But you feel so real.” Seonghwa holds your hips as he reciprocates, unwilling to tear his gaze from your face. You ride him like that, his jaw slackening as he forces his eyes to focus on each part of you for even just a moment, hands exploring further. A memorial for the journey ahead.

Your hand drifts to your clit, rubbing in small circles as you cautiously inch down his impressive length. He looks good below you, eyes flicking from cunt to face.

“That’s it, nice and slow baby, I’m not in a rush,” he says, practically drooling on himself.

Finally to the hilt you rest your elbows on his shoulders with a groan, rocking yourself slowly in his lap. Leaning in you kiss him gently, full lips plush and warm on your own. “Liar,” you whisper, “you have to leave.”

“Pretend I don’t,” he volleys back, arms snaking up your back and pulling you chest to chest. “I’m not going to leave babe.”

The way he fucks you almost has you believing it. Close and slow, almost unbearably warm in the morning light despite the lack of sheets. Sitting you on his cock like a throne and encouraging the wind of your hips, filling every inch of your warm walls. Whining and groaning as they lazily squeeze around him appreciatively. His mouth works wonders on your breasts in a way you’re almost sure no other partner has. Alternating between the soothing pressure of his tongue lapping and the sizzle of his teeth just barely nipping at you. More bruises, at least these would be easier to hide.

Seonghwa’s breathy moans increase in pitch as his movements lose coordination. The desperation in his grip on your hips is dizzying. You ride him faster, thighs burning as you try your best to finish the job. Your core is ready to implode but the exhaustion quickly overwhelms you.

“So-close-” you mumble through gritted teeth, desperate huffs escaping your nose.

Arms wrapping around your middle you feel the table shift behind you. Seonghwa grunts as he stands up with you on him, placing you haphazardly on the surface, used plates clattering. Gathering your legs around his hips he pistons like his life depends on it, deep into you. Your toes curl as your muscles spasm, back arching as you cum on him. Seonghwa collapses over you, hips still jackrabbiting as he chases his high. His face buried in your neck, he spills inside of you with a choked whine. “Should’ve asked-” he begins to slur apologetically.

“It’s fine.”

Seonghwa only lays there for a minute or so, waiting for both of your breathing to slow. The cotton pad of his dressing is stained red. So is the inside of your thigh.

You state the obvious, “you’re bleeding again.”

Cleanup is eerily quiet. No sirens, no giggles, no sighs. You work efficiently as a team, as much as it pains the both of you. Seonghwa would’ve pampered you, you know that. Even in the still air, his small touches reveal his thoughts. He washes the dishes, even the ones he didn’t use, wipes down the bathroom sink after you re-wrap him, gathers the sheets into a disgraced bundle.

“Would you be my girlfriend it if-” he shatters the silence suddenly, watching you stuff new pillow covers onto your pillows.

‘I don’t know, what will tell our kids? Oh hey when daddy met mommy, he broke into her apartment and they fucked like bunnies.”

“We could just lie. Our parents probably did that.”

You stop mid shove of pillow, “maybe omitted details but I’m really not a bar hopping type and you don’t seem like a Sunday morning coffee shop sort of man either.”

“I could be for you.”

Dropping the pretense of making the bed you stare at him. “You have to leave. Don’t make me think otherwise. I know you have to leave. And if you want any hope of taking care of me I cannot know where you are going or when you’re going or any more than I already know. Got it?”

Seonghwa looks defeatedly at the floor, head hung low. “No, I know. I got it. I just-”

“We met, that was bad. We fucked, that was good. Leave it at that. For both of us.”

Seonghwa waits for you to busy yourself with dinner. Back to him as he slinks out the door. He’s never been good with goodbyes. He doesn’t even look as he catches the door to stop it from slamming into the frame. Ten bands sit under your couch cushions waiting for you to discover. Yet another five are more conspicuously placed beneath your pillows. He wishes it were more. For everything. The sirens start up again, the sun still sits at the horizon.

“I should look up stockholm syndrome,” you think to yourself as you push your food back and forth on your plate. “Is it even real?”

Carefully you wrap the second portion in an old takeaway container and shove it into your fridge. Leftovers were always good to have. You’d forget they were there and your friend would discover it and throw them out three weeks later. Time passes weirdly for those two weeks, days dragging but weeks flying. You hoped Seonghwa made it, wherever he was. The thought made you nauseous. Everything made you nauseous. Still, you watched the sun rise and you hoped he was looking at the same sun somewhere.

[isekai-crow]

The Witch and the Beast / Majo to Yajuu Episode 1

Overall Score So Far: 9/10

WE'VE GOT A HOTTIE LINE UP OF ALL GENDERS!!

Guideau on the left, Ashaf in the middle, and Genderless Hottie on the right :3

HOW ARE THEY ALL SO PRETTY.

Anime, now with more CROW BAIT. This time it's literal!! :D

OF COURSE the Goth With The Coffin on his back can use CROW MAGIC. AHHHHHHH.

Also, Guys. You guys. Fucking TOSHIYUKI MORIKAWA is voicing Ashaf.

THE VOICE OF SEPHIROTH. GRIFFITH FROM BERSERK. DANTE FROM DEVIL MAY CRY. TYKI FROM D. Gray Man. We get THE KING OF THE DARK AND BROODY SEXY MAN VOICE.

And Guideau is voice by Taichi, You - Jousuke from JoJo, Suphia from TenSura, Saya from Dead Mount Death Play, and Dorothy from Princess Principal!! A great rough and tumble voice perfect for Guideau. (1st Epi Spoiler: I can't tell if she's voicing Guideau's true form.)

More Episode 1 Spoilers Below!

I don't really know what I was expecting except for Hot Goth Dude with a Coffin Boyfriend, and a badass punch-em-up beauty with a nasty mouth from the PV on youtube, but that's what I got and more, and I am so very pleased about it.

I was SO EXCITED ABOUT THE CROWS YOU HAVE NO IDEA. Hottie Mage whips out a spell covered arms and MY BABIES ARE BURSTING FORTH IN A MURDER OF ADORABLE!!! I might have woken up Capybara's deaf elderly neighbors in my excitement.

What I was not expecting was a giant Zom 100 Shark to show up in the middle of the city lmfao.

Zom 100 Zombie shark on the left and Big Buff Giant Shark Dude on the right.

It's just a dude whose turned himself into a shark with magic, who immediately gets dispelled by a witch, and that THIS IS A NORMAL OCCURANCE??? People are like, oh noooo, there's a giant shark, Ione will deal with iiiiit, no worriesssss.

The implications this gives of a mixed soft/hard magic system tho.

I'm really looking forward to learning (or maybe not learning and discovering through negative space) the rules that don't get broken (which is necessary for a magic system), but also hope that they'll be playing hard and fast with what's possible. Cause seriously, wtf is this shark. Delightful, lol.

They mind games played with "Are Witches Bad or Not?" in this episode is fun, because as a viewer going in blind, we could have had some lawful good protagonists or we could have had some chaotic anti-heros, and I would have accepted either outcome. We kind of get both and that's even better!

Trying to include a speech about the morals of getting revenge with Ione as she tries to justify her actions for removing the lock on her grandmother was interesting, but I'm still not sure if her Grandma was the one to cause the fire and people 300 years ago killed her, or if her getting blamed for the fires and then killed just so happened to lock the fire away, but either way...

Along with this I'm not surprised by the coven of would-be witch's nor the attempts by them to claim that witches aren't bad, "you're just like everyone else," when you can tell from the art that the stereotypes in this world hold weight, lol.

However, I don't know WHY I was surprised by said witches getting their hands and feet removed as part of a ritual summoning of hellfire.

How... how is there not blood E V E R Y W H E R E ??!!?? Some heavy duty arteries have been cut, yo. I guess there kind of is but there should be MORE.

Ashaf finally figures out what's going on and gives in to Guideau, letting her go wild, and HELL YES I love it when we get a beast gremlin on a rampage!

Witch Laser Beams! Sure!

I also LOVE when Characters get the shit beat out of them and then Keep. Standing. Up.

The very purposeful listing of the two ways to lift a Witch's spell at the very beginning of the show, True Love's Kiss or A Change of Heart),was such a great Chekhov's Gun that I knew there was probably going to be another (secret) way to deal with it.

Fuck yea, angry kiss!! Let Guideau feast on your soul!!

But the most surprising thing that has me fully on board and ready to rock and roll is Coffin Boyfriend.

What gender is Coffin Boyfriend? We don't know.

However.

Coffin Boyfriend is not a third character like I initially expected.

Coffin Boyfriend is Mother Fucking Guideau Y'all.

Everything makes so much sense now. Ashaf carries coffin boyfriend's true body around in his backpack like it's no big thing.

And Guideau, with all that rage packed into a tiny little body, has to go around kissing witches to switch from her current body back to the original to then proceed to beat the shit out of said witch.

I fucking here for this. I'm so hype.

Hot Bois, Crows, Body/Gender Swaps, Witch and Magic Fuckery. I'm here for it all, y'all.

(I might even go read ahead in the manga for this one cause OH MY GOD MANGA ASHAF IS ALSO VERY GOOD)

This ART STYLE.

But also... Chrollo? Is that you?

Ashaf on the left, Chrollo Lucilfer from Hunter X Hunter on the right.

I love this. I love their vibe. After Apothecary Diaries, this might just end up being my favorite this season. I'll save that judgement for a few more episodes in though.

ep2 ep3 ep4 ep5 ep6 <- these will eventually become links

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

An Song for the Arcana playlist - Take Me As I Am, Leslie Odom Jr https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZHEo8RCHd6s Lyrics: Take me as I am My hands are glass My heart is heavy My bones are bronze They will not break Under the weight of your love Take me as I am I'm badly flawed But I'm madly yours So take me

Welcome to the world of lonely souls Called the rolling stones Never seem to gather moss I've been on my own so long, it's old Long for someone to hold onto Then I found you

Please be careful, I can't hide the bruises But you and I know what the truth is We've been bonded since the start of the universe So for what it's worth

Take me as I am My hands are glass My heart is heavy My bones are bronze They will not break Under the weight of your love Take me as I am I'm badly flawed But I'm madly yours So take me

Dancing in the dark The candle finds solace Can I find something solid? Something in the cards says this time will be different That hope makes this kind of worth living for

Please be gentle I'm fragile as you are I'm tempered iron But you recall that We've both fallen before and we fell hard Excuse my ugly scars

Take me as I am My hands are glass My heart is heavy My bones are bronze They will not break Under the weight of your love Take me as I am I'm badly flawed But I'm madly yours So take me

And if you know you'll leave me Let me down easy Let me down easy I know nightmares Can I know dreaming? Can I know dreaming?

Take me as I am My hands are glass My heart is heavy My bones are bronze They will not break Under the weight of your love Take me as I am I'm badly flawed But I'm madly yours So take me

@slightlyirritable ohhh these lyrics are heart-wrenchingly beautiful!! Thank you so much for sharing them!

I am definitely adding this to the playlist and tag!!! Thank you for the suggestion friend!

[blackjackkent]

Dealt with the minotaur attack. The weird purple stuff seems to cause a condition called "Rapport Spores" which allows affected creatures to communicate telepathically. This is kind of funny bc we can kind of already do that with the parasite, but it does explain how the minotaur (I assume?) was talking in Hector's head.

Further rambly Underdark explorations...

A very unnerving rumbling/shaking starts happening as we move up north from the ambush area. "Gods, what's happening?" Hector asks...but then it stops. >:| Concerning.

Gods these maps are huge. I keep trying to be very thorough with my explorations but there's always more around a corner.

Accidentally blew up a climbing rope by trigger a trap but was able to get up anyway in a v GW2-jumping-puzzle way by hopping up some mushrooms. Entering an area called "Storehouse" which is full of more of the weird telepathic purple gas. More rumbling and shaking with no obvious cause.

Realizing I'm treating this like an expedition journal as we go along. XD

I'm assuming the storehouse is drow in origin, based on the notes from the Selunites. No sign of them yet but I wouldn't be surprised if there's another ambush waiting somewhere.

NVM, almost as soon as I typed the above, Hector's history expertise kicked in:

Smugglers, then. We met a Zhent trader in the goblin camp earlier and learned a bit about their black market dealings when Hector recognized their logo.

Explains all the wine in one of the crates. XD One was named "Baldur's Grape" which is entertaining. Nothing else too exciting in most of the boxes - mostly consumables and camp supplies, which is good bc they facilitate long rests, which I have a feeling we're going to need a lot of down here.

Broken elevator at the top of the Zhent camp. Perhaps it's like a Dark Souls elevator and needs to be unlocked from the top before we can use it? Too bad. Packs getting heavy; would have liked to dip to the surface quickly and sell things. (I know I still can with teleporting but I'm trying for realism damn it. :P )

In inventory organization news, I'm beginning to recognize the value of these storage containers we're able to pick up. They're not bags of holding, weight wise, but they do seem to have infinite slots and things put into them still show up on your hotbar inventory. So I've designated one for equipment nobody wants (carried by Karlach since she's stonksest) and one for each person for consumables and that seems like it will free up some mental load. Eventually if i can get more bags one will also be the random crap bag, bc goddamn there's a lot of that. I think I'm making an executive decision not to worry about any weapons/armor I pick up that isn't at least uncommon, too, bc all the common stuff seems basically equivalent.

[rosebancroft]

Journal V:

In their world, I tried to find everything I lacked, a kaleidoscope of sensations swirling in a tumultuous vortex. Here, the air was thick with the oppressive weight of cheap music, the acrid scent of booze, the bitter taste of hate, and the primal urges of lust, all woven together in a twisted tapestry of human indulgence, orchestrated by the devil himself.

In this devil's carnival, they danced with reckless abandon, their movements a frenzied blur against the backdrop of flashing lights and pounding beats, heedless of the passage of time or the consequences of their actions. In a delicate ballet with humiliation, they danced, their steps heavy as lead, their grace fleeting, burdened by shoes too cumbersome for their intoxicated souls. Their drunken state painted across their flushed faces, their stumbling movements a testament to their inebriated reverie. Amidst the haze of alcohol, their laughter rang out like wind chimes in a storm, tearing through the night with a discordant melody, as they sang with reckless abandon, their voices merging into a symphony of intoxicated bliss, all too comfortable despite the devil within. They reveled in the chaos, surrendering themselves to the intoxicating allure of the night, oblivious to the dawn that awaited them just beyond the horizon.

Yet amidst this maelstrom of hedonism and debauchery, elsewhere, the night deepened into a tranquil silence, a sanctuary of stillness and repose. Here, the only sounds that echoed were the whispers of the wind, the rustle of leaves, and the steady rhythm of heartbeats, a stark contrast to the cacophony of the devil's world.

In the depths of my mind, I grappled with my own impulses, acknowledging the primal urges that lurked within me, yet knowing that the savagery I harbored was nowhere to be unleashed. I was an outsider in this realm of excess and indulgence, cast out by its inhabitants for my unwavering authenticity, deemed too true, too raw even for the devil's keen eye.

I was an erotic mirage, a fleeting vision of passion and desire, a velvet moonflower drifting unseen through the darkness, its essence seeping into my veins, igniting flames of unrequited longing within me. And yet, amidst the chaos and confusion, there existed no purity in my thoughts, no innocence in my desires, for I was too tainted by the darkness that surrounded me, too grotesque to embrace my true self.

A soul too fragile for this brutal world, housed within a body that feels as lifeless as a corpse. It bends and contorts endlessly, as if devoid of bones, yielding to the relentless demands of existence. Within me resides a gentle soul juxtaposed with a mind shrouded in darkness, a divine violence pulsating at its core. Throughout my life, I've remained concealed, my true self veiled from those closest to me, for they neither know nor comprehend the repercussions of being exposed to such raw authenticity. It is a desperate, guttural prayer, pleading fervently to remain unseen, to avoid the piercing gaze of societal monarchy. 

Now I wait for the world to unfurl its secrets, ready to embrace the divine destiny that beckons, yet too ensnared by my own selfish desires to fully surrender to the grandeur before me. In what ways does the allure of hedonism intersect with the pursuit of authenticity and self-discovery? And who am I to dare question the majesty of such divine unfolding when, in truth, the future unveils itself with stark simplicity? No complexity or intrigue remains when one knows what lies ahead, robbing life of its mysteries and the thrill of anticipation.

I am left to wander, forever denied such answers, for my mind poses questions beyond the scope of comprehension, burdening me with a sense of insignificance and shame. All too real yet eerily artificial, whether a mere sensation or the deceptive machinations of my mind, all too awake in this surreal existence. In which do I pry? The life carnival sin or the existence of complex time?

-Bancroft