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angelshadowsinger · 1 year

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oh my fucking god your work is incredible! holy literal shit balls i have never felt that entranced by a fanfiction until reading yours. thank u thank u thank u your azriel is PERFECT.

also i’m totally gonna need your thoughts on azriel sharing with his shadows 👀

re: ummmmmmm call me parmesan bc u got me CHEESIN!?!?!! that is literally sO sweet of you to say, i am touched 🥺 as a fic author you always worry if you’re making the character OOC and, it just makes me so happy to hear your praise!! thank you so much anon~ ♥︎ This HC is a bit more than what you’ve asked for, but it does includes it, so pls enjoy!

Azriel’s Shadows Around his Mate Headcanons

･゜゜・．｡･゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡･゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇ: ʙʏ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴇʀᴛɪꜰʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀ 18 ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪɴᴏʀ. ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ʙᴇʏᴏɴᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴅɪꜱᴄʀᴇᴛɪᴏɴ.

･゜゜・．｡･゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡･゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

In my eyes, Azriel’s shadows are a part of him. There hasn’t been much insight that Maas has given us with shadowsingers and their capabilities in general, but this is what I choose to believe~

Since Azriel’s shadows were perhaps the first of his powers, and the first entity to treat him with some kindness/obedience, I think he would be very in tune with them and he himself would consider them a part of him. He has had over 500 years to develop his relationship with them and therefore, I believe once he found his mate, his shadows would be just as captivated with her as he himself.

Obviously, Azriel is a total simp for his girl (but that’s another hc in its own), so that means his shadows are too. Honestly, it could be viewed as annoying how often at least a few of his shadows are constantly at your side. He’s used to having them totally loyal to him, so now that he has to share them with you… well, it’s not really actually that cumbersome, because he knows that even when you two are apart, he’ll be sure to know if you need him/his help. Though he has a couple less to send out on his spymaster business, technically, the ones with you are acting as his spies anyway. Just, with a far more interesting and important subject.

His shadows do a variety of things for you, making your everyday life easier and more pleasant. Just as their master, the shadows like to give you princess treatment.

For example, they go out of their way to help you with mundane things. If you’re making dinner and a tomato rolls off the cutting board, they’re pushing it back to you. When you’re putting on a dress, they’re helping you with the zip and clasp. If you’re writing something and your pen runs out of ink, somehow they’ve procured a new one that matches your exact preferences.

Both Az and his shadows notice the small things. They take notes of your likes and dislikes, what makes you giggle, cry, or provides you comfort.

At times when he’s away for a long while, and you’re missing him, they will deliver small gifts to you. A couple flowers tied with twine, native to the strange lands he’s currently working in. A special spice he knows you love to use in the foods you share with him. An especially-delicious pastry made with your favorite fruit/flavor. Though the shadows themselves do not find you gifts, they are happy to deliver whatever Az requests they send.

They also will take anything you wish to send him. Whether he’s in another country, or simply training at the House of Wind with his brothers, his shadows will deliver your every gift. Most of the time it’s little sweets or a lunch you’ve packed. Sometimes when you’re feeling cheekier, a receipt from the lingerie store informing him of your latest purchase. If you’re really feeling brazen, sometimes the panties themselves. His shadows are perhaps happiest to carry those items, either to get into contact with them or to see their master’s red cheeks as he shoves them out of his brothers’ view.

His shadows are your caretaker when he is not with you. When you’ve fallen asleep staying up for your mate’s return from yet another mission, his shadows will tuck you under your favorite blanket, taking off your reading glasses and ensuring your spot in the open book on your lap is not lost. Az nearly melts when he comes back to the sight, you dead asleep on the couch in front of the blazing hearth, his shadows perched dutifully there, guarding you.

However, they grow attached to you and even when he is with you, they will not leave you alone unless he commands them.

Azriel likes to take full advantage of his time alone with you. There is nothing he finds more comfort and pleasure in than being in your embrace. Sometimes that’s hard to do, though, when his shadows steal away your attention, or beat him to helping you with the zip of your dress.

It’s a very endearing sight to see him get jealous of his own shadows. He’d have a scowl on his face as he glared at them, silently ordering them to leave your side so he could have you all to himself. The shadows would melt onto the floor, gloomy in a way, whisper once more around your ankle before they go off to fulfill their master’s instruction.

Most of the time, you manage to guilt your mate into letting a few of them come back. And as soon as he calls them, they appear and shoot right for you. Az rolls his eyes but of course he understands. How could they not fall in love with you?

Azriel is actually very good with sharing. This usually applies to you when his shadows are involved, though sometimes he just needs to be alone with you. Whether it’s to have his way with you or just to snuggle up and bask in his mate’s presence. When he needs time like that, he will have his shadows guard your quarters and they will do so without question— fiercely protecting the only two beings they care for.

~spicy hc’s begin ;)~

Most of the time, Azriel will take the lead in pleasuring you— as he should, as your mate— but he’s likely to let his shadows watch or join his efforts if they play a supporting role.

For example, his favorite thing is to be between your legs, feasting on your sweet cunt and making sure you know you are his, while his shadows hold you down so you can’t move an inch. This way, you have to take the pleasure in the exact way he desires, unable to greedily chase your high or buck your hips or push him away.

Usually he plays with you for a while like this, teasing you and edging you a handful of times before he’s ruthless, unstopping even after you’ve come. He does cease his ravishing after you’ve come again, only to ensure he doesn’t overstimulate you before he’s had a chance to fuck you like you both want.

His shadows are happy to shackle you and render you helpless to his onslaught of pleasure; they love hearing your wanton cries and will dry away any tears of pleasure that escape with a cool, ghostly caress.

Speaking of their caress, one of his favorite uses for them is to soothe your skin when he’s done marking it up. Meaning, after every spank or particularly hard bite, the shadows will rove over the irritated flesh, kissing you with their cooling tendrils.

Since the shadows are slightly cold, sending them to curl around your nipples while he fucks you from behind is also another favorite. The temperature-play heightens everything— especially when they move down your curves to tease at your clit or your ass, depending on your preference…

Sometimes he lets them fuck you as part of your foreplay— usually while you’re sucking his cock. He just loves the surprise that flickers in your eyes when you’re choking on the length of him deep in your throat, how your lashes flutter when that familiar cool touch tickles your inner thighs and pushes your wet panties aside, how your moan feels vibrating around him when they thrust inside of you. He savors how your rhythm gets thrown, how you struggle to continue when his shadows are running over every sensitive crevice of your most intimate parts.

On rarer occasions, Azriel will let the shadows have their way with you. He’d sit back in a comfortable, wing-friendly armchair, darkened hazel eyes drinking in every movement before him— you with your eyes rolled back in ecstasy, the darkness holding your legs spread and fondling every inch of you— cupping your tender breasts, tweaking those pert, hard nipples… stroking your face, your hair, your hips and thighs… flowing over your puffy clit, slipping between your dripping folds and even wandering inside of you, perhaps just as deep as Azriel’s cock could reach. He would jerk his leaking shaft at the sight before him, lip held prisoner in his feral snarl. He wouldn’t be able to last very long, the sight before him too much for him to keep his composure.

When you’re both spent and panting for breath, the shadows will run up and down your moistened back, taking away the heat that lingers there and helping to lull you to sleep.

Only when you’re unconscious do they return to Azriel, curling around his shoulders in thanks. They know they are lucky to be the sole creature/presence with which he shares his mate, and any time spent with you is valued payment for the many services they provide their master with.

#anon love #anons make angel blush (˘◡˘)#azriel x you #azriel x female!reader #azriel x reader #acotar x you #acotar x reader #azriel smut #azriel fluff #azriel fanfic #azriel fic #azriel headcanons #azriel hcs #angelshadowsinger #my hcs #my work

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chernabogs · 5 months

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The Moon

Inc: Malleus, briefly Prefect Warnings: Some spoilers for the platinum jacket bday vignette. The laundry... LMAO WC: 2.5k Summary: 4 firsts that Malleus had under the watchful gaze of his oldest friend. First moments, first shop, first wash, first friend.

1—First Moments.

There is an envy of the moon that rots through his heart as a plague does the flesh.

The moon was his friend for the longest time in his youth; people would pass like a breeze—tutors, courtiers, servants, —leaving him stagnant, alone. But the moon would always return. She’d look down at where he leaned out the window, his small hands grasping the stones to steady himself, and her silver light would bath over him like the gentle touch of a mother—at least, how he imagined that touch to be. He’d whittle away hours admiring her mottled surface, and she’d whittle away hours gazing back, until she would eventually vanish with the night as the inky black sky faded to a twilight blue.

The envy existed because she always had the opportunity to come and go. Malleus was confined to a box for much of his life. Never once did he need to lift a finger, even if he desired to;

your highness is not meant to do that. Your highness is not meant to toil, and labour, and break the earth as we must. Hot sun should not kiss your fragile skin, sweat should not touch your brow. You must always remain above and away. Let us harvest for your needs; let us serve.

No one ever worked for the moon. She controlled the tides, made the Valley livable, and in return was worshipped for her trials among those denizens. One does not tell the moon you are not meant to do that. You are not meant to toil, and labour, and wrestle the tides for our needs. That was preposterous to think. So, should he not, too, work alongside the rest to make the Valley a better place? Would that not make the most sense?

For a while he resented it. He would turn to his side to face away from the window as night came, grasping his sheets with his hands and glaring into the darkness as though the moon would feel sad in his absence. That’s a silly thought. A floating rock in space cannot fathom the emotions burdened by fae and man alike. But in his childish mind—packed with tales of birds that talk and trees that walk—it was perfectly reasonable. Sometimes, it still is.

The resentment only lasted a few weeks before guilt began to eat him. That’s a silly thought, too. To feel guilty over ignoring a rock. Yet the next night he did find himself leaning on that window ledge once more, looking up at her with wide eyes as her silver light brushed across his cheeks. I’m sorry, he had whispered, knowing she could not hear but imagining she did.

The sun may not see his skin, but the moon certainly did, and she kissed it goodnight every evening before he went to rest. Lilia once told him his mother was a star, but Malleus wagered she’s far more than that. A star cannot contain the love and power he learned her to have.

No, looking up to the silver light above, he knew precisely what she had joined in those celestial skies.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

2—First Shop.

The opportunity for growth first came when he was invited to NRC. There is a first time for everything, and Malleus was quick to experience many in those early weeks of his initial year.

The first time shopping alone. Most experience this when they become adults, or they get a taste in their teenage years when their parent allows them to embark to a mall, or a place with companions. Malleus faced a trial by fire when he needed to purchase snacks for himself in his off time—he did have an appetite.

The cart broke, and that’s precisely when he knew this had been a dire mistake. Actually, he knew that when Lilia told him he was unable to go into town with Malleus. The discount store was the best place to get food for cheap and so Lilia had guided him here, and now the wheel was bent in a strange way and when he pushed it, it squeaked, or it didn’t move at all, and god this was awful, this was not how he planned—

Until an employee came. A single glance and a kick to the wheel fixed all his errors and so the crown prince of Briar Valley, with a charming flush of embarrassment to his cheeks, shoved the cart through the automatic doors after a mumbled word of gratitude. He’d get better at thanking people later. Gifts, for example, would be granted quite freely.

The second trial of shopping came in acquiring the items. Malleus was intelligent. Incredibly so, in fact. Many of his tutors had not been able to keep up with his leaps and strides in the academic field (if one ignores how he threw tantrums and caused a majority to quit in the first place). However, ill-equipped was he for the trials of price vs quality comparison, and so he found himself in a stand still at many points with two boxes in his hand, trying to rationalize which one had the better ingredients and was it really worth the additional 5 madol?

The experience took a grand total of two hours. Lilia called once—only to make sure Malleus did not become lost between the store and the school. A quick call became a long ordeal when Malleus barraged the man with questions regarding if it’s worth investing in carbonated water or not. He settled for whatever was in the taps at NRC, and he paid cash for it all. Because Lilia did, at least, inform him that paying with jewels was probably not an acceptable currency in the discount grocery outlet.

At the end of it all, when he was digging through the box of granola bars on his desk at a late hour, and the moons silver light was greeting him for the first time in an entirely new land, a sense of confidence in his ability to handle any trial ahead caused a smirk to curl on Malleus’ lips.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

3— First Wash.

That is until he met the machine.

He was a night owl. What he didn’t realize was that most teenage boys are night owls as well. He had not the faintest idea where the laundry room even was and deemed that 2 am in the kitchen was the best time to compensate for this. So enraptured in his scrubbing was he that he failed to hear the student until he heard an awkwardly spoken, “Um?” over his shoulder.

What a sight he must have been. Wide, green eyes glowing in the dark as he was hunched over the sink, a sock in one hand and a brush in the other. Perhaps his hair was disarrayed from the furious scrubbing to remove any dirt, perhaps his fangs were shown in his frustration of soap suds getting everywhere. Either way, the poor boy who had wandered into the kitchen for a midnight snack and encountered this was quite shocked. Malleus had straightened up, and a lingering silence had ensued until the boy had spoken once more in a frail, cracking voice.

“Housewarden? Why are you washing your clothes in the kitchen sink?”

Why, indeed? Malleus had the choice to take the prideful route and say that he wanted to, and so he did. Spare himself the embarrassment. Or he could own up to reality and admit a slight bit of vulnerability to the student. He wanted to form camaraderie and friendship—so perhaps vulnerability was the right way to go.

“I could not find the laundry room.” He had replied, a bit blunt in his words. The student stared at him for a moment longer before slowly blinking as the prince’s words registered to him. His mouth opened slightly, and he half turned to look out the kitchen door.

“Oh, I just use magic.” The student had then pointed to the stairs where the dorms were. “But you can probably just have someone take your load next time.”

Malleus knew his expression soured at the comment because the student’s face had dropped to worry. Let us harvest for your needs; let us serve.; this echoed in his mind as his hand had tightened around the sock. “No, I can do it myself.”

The words were cold to the point of cutting. Silence, once more, before the student had cleared his throat again. “... I am overdue for a load myself. Do you want me to show you the room?”

A simple question had been enough to ease any tension. Malleus’ expression had softened, and within twenty minutes, two boys were embarking in the dark with soapy laundry and baskets to scour the laundry room on their expansive campus. Malleus had looked to the moon as they passed and imagined her laughing at his plight.

Many tales regale of brave knights who encounter ferocious beasts in their endeavours, with voices that sound of a thousand cries and mouths that spew a volley of ash upon their polished armor. The knights inevitably slay the beast and parade its head proudly for all the adoring villagers to see.

Malleus’ beast had a body of stainless steel, and a mouth that chewed and swished clothing around with great fury. The first time he saw it, he had set his basket down and looked at the boy with an expression of; are you kidding me? Technology and the prince were not friends. Two phones burned within the first 48 hours of getting them had demonstrated that so far. But the boy exhibited a patience unseen as he had loaded his wash and walked the prince through the process of putting the laundry pod in, hitting the timer, and then hitting ‘start.’

The rumble of the wash had signified success. When Malleus repeated the steps with his own load and a second rumble had filled the wide, otherwise empty room, he felt quite akin to those knights slaying the beast.

The two of them had sat in the benches of that laundry room together until the load was done and the boy could show him the dryer. They had never really spoken again after that encounter, but the memory of the boy's compassion (a rarity for NRC students) in aiding the prince was not lost on him. When the boy was suddenly hit with a streak of uncanny luck, and he had asked himself why, perhaps he had a lingering idea of why this was—but he would say nothing, nor would the prince.

Only the moon knew the answer to that question.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------

4—First Friend.

They had seemed utterly, completely, unequivocally normal when he first met them. Oh, he had heard about them—after all, one doesn’t just burst out of a coffin without the entire school knowing within the hour—but he had not met them, and when he finally did, he found himself to be quite underwhelmed. They were shorter than him, but just as quiet, and he had yet to know that those lingering awkward moments outside of Ramshackle would uproot his life in the most wondrous of ways.

The moon knew. But she couldn’t say anything; she just kept smiling down with her silvery grin from the skies above.

He hadn’t meant to return to them, but in time he did, until eventually the student from Ramshackle ingrained themself in his routine in a way that baffled him completely. Sometimes he would look down at them on their walks and wonder to himself now, where did you appear from?, as though the night would whisper the answer in his ear and he’d go, ah yes, that makes perfect sense.

The night is where they convalesce the most. In the beginning the student did not sleep often and Malleus, still ever the night owl, took advantage of this. He would abscond with them in the night (oh, he could imagine his Senate wailing how scandalous! in their flickering forms) and they would walk a familiar loop around campus until returning to the steps of Ramshackle once more.

Sometimes they talked the entire way. Other times they would simply move in silence, an unspoken understanding between them of two people in a routine they were both quite comfortable with. When an overblot had happened, the student would tell Malleus about the event, and he would nod in grave understanding—not knowing what they felt, since he never experienced it himself, but empathizing with them all the same.

It would also allow him to make a mental note to reach out to the affected party later. Just to check in.

Winter break had been a time of upset for him because it had disrupted the routine he was used to. Back in the box, back in his room, with servants attending every need. The freedom he had become accustomed to being robbed from him made him feel like a mad dog in a cage and the absence of those now familiar night walks had him glaring at the sky. The moon was still there—so one member of their party was present—but the student was back at NRC, and it created a sort of them shaped void in his chest that made him restless.

They didn’t reply to his holiday card. Maybe he had overstepped, or maybe they were like him and lost track of time on occasion. He liked to imagine it was the latter. He liked to try and find more things similar between them both beyond a love for the night and the moon.

When he had returned and they had given him the VDC tickets, another sense of joy had sparked in his chest as he had held those tickets tight. A warmth flooding throughout his body, something he hadn’t quite felt before beyond when he looked at his family, and he wondered in that moment if this is what it felt like to be a part of something. He had always imagined having those experiences—being invited to parties, creating mischief in the night, sharing secrets and laughter under the stars. The student was granting these to him, despite both parties not knowing so yet.

The moon knew, though. She kept smiling down at them as they would whisper on their walks, hands close enough to brush but not touching each other because that felt too far just yet. She would observe the way Malleus would watch the student until they re-entered Ramshackle to ensure that they made it inside safe, and the faint smile on his lips as he walked away.

She knew, even when they did not.

For now, however, Malleus was comfortable calling the student friend. They were someone who did not walk before him in guidance, or behind him in subservience. They walked comfortably by his side as an equal, and for that, they held more significance than he cared to admit.

NRC had brought many firsts to Malleus’ life, and as each moment passed, he felt that envy of the moon fade away. For in the end, to be envious of his oldest friend was a pointless thing.

#malleus draconia #twst #twst fanfiction #malleus x reader #somewhat... more platonic but w those lil hinty hints yk #hehe his bday vignette rotating in my brain <3 this man #also wow look MORE dia... ;;

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kquil · 1 year

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SIRIUS BLACK | 15:22 ⏤LATE NIGHT RIDE

SUM. : biker boy sirius finally takes his crush out for a ride on his motorbike

G. : modern au ; muggle au ; biker au ; mutual pining ; sirius has a crush on you ; he asks you out on a late night ride on his motorbike ; you say yes

LENGTH : 0.9k

NOT PROOFREAD OR EDITED

“Is that okay, love?” Sirius asks in an uncharacteristically soft tone, eyes staring into your own from beneath his spare helmet.

“Mhm! I’m all good, Siri,” somehow, your voice sounds even cuter than usual when muffled by the helmet, especially when uttering such an endearing nickname of his.

‘You’re so cute’ he’s tempted to say but holds back. He doesn’t want to scare you away; he’s wanted this opportunity with you for so long; he’s not going to sabotage his chances now. Instead, he gives a brief nod and goes to put on his own helmet, just about missing your excited little jumps from his peripheral and he has to bite his lip to keep from grinning too widely. ‘Stay cool, stay cool, you’re cool…’ he chants in his head.

Finally, he turns to his beloved motorcycle and goes about his usual routine, the muscle memory of turning on the bike, sliding onto the seat and doing his regular checks gives a smoothness to his movements that you can’t help but stare fondly at.

Earlier on, he promised you a safe and enjoyable trip, sincerity in his eyes and trust on his usually mischievous smile. As a witness to his familiarity with the bike, you know he meant it when he said: I’ll keep you safe, sweetheart, I promise, and he said it in such a sultry but sweet voice too. Weak at the knees and with hearts in your eyes, who were you to say no to such a tempting display. He was so excited to hear you say yes, he insisted on taking you out for a ride then and there.

It was nearing midnight but a smooth motorcycle ride under the illustrious moon was too romantic to pass up, especially with the man you’ve been harbouring such an insatiable crush on for months now.

“Hop on, love, easy does it,” Sirius calls out to you, petting at the space behind him with a leather-clad hand, willing himself to keep from openly praising how gorgeous you looked with his helmet and oversized leather jacket. He needed you to stay warm so off his leather went to drape over your soft shoulders, leaving him in a simple white t-shirt, his leather pants and combat boots. His jacket swamps your silhouette in favour of a much sexier one in Sirius’ grey eyes; he’s almost convinced to surrender it to you.

You do the apparel far better justice than him. That’s his opinion though and he’d happily berate anyone should they voice the opposite, wrong opinion of you in his leather jacket.

Once you’re seated securely behind him, Sirius does his last minute checks again in an effort to tamper the path of electric shocks your touch paves through him. The placement of your hands on his shoulders, down to his chest and shyly tickling at the skin on his neck sends almost paralysing sparks shooting down his spine. It’s a pleasant sensation, the fluttering in his chest amplifying when he looks down and sees you tuck in his silver chain underneath his shirt collar.

‘How considerate, what a doll~’ he coos in his head, falling head over heels for you all over again.

Eventually, your hands find purchase under his arms and placed gingerly atop his toned chest. Hopefully, you don’t feel the hammering of his heart, it would be more than alarming to realise how he’s one heart beat away from going into cardiac arrest.

Sirius grips at the handles and you see his arms flex, the muscles carving paths into his inked skin for a brief moment, where you suck in a breath and forget to breathe. You’re not a shallow person nor one that favours too many tattoos on a person but you’ve always appreciated the art on Sirius’ skin, he makes it look alluring and adds to his already prolific amounts of charisma. The biker adjusts in his seat for a moment, ready to start up his bike when he realises how distant you still are from him.

Despite the feeling of your hands on his chest, he doesn’t think your secure and reaches back. He warns you of something by taping a hand against your thigh briefly before suddenly sliding his hands under your thigh and pulling you towards him. The feel of your hands on his chest couldn’t compare to the feeling of your torso pressing into his back. Admittedly, you liked pressing yourself into his back and couldn’t help but give him a gentle squeeze.

“Are you ready, love?” he calls, hiding the fondness in his voice by revving up motorbike coming to life as a shot of adrenaline filled your veins from the anticipation of the fun time ahead.

“As I’ll every be!”

“Hold on tight!” and he kicks off, your arms squeezing him tightly as he does so. Above you the moon shines a magisterial silver and bathes the road ahead with its beams as you scream in delight.

“Go faster!” you shout through the helmet and into the night wind, hoping he paid extra attention for your voice with the tap you deliver to his left pectoral. You don't hear anything but feel him reach back and pat your thigh to indicate him hearing you. Not soon after, he speeds up and your screams of delight and laughter fills the empty roads and glittery night sky as Sirius grins boyishly beneath his helmet.

A/N : thoughts, my loves? don't we just love our biker boy?

NAVI.

#☆ : TIMESTAMP #sirius black x reader #sirius black #sirius x reader #sirius black x you #marauders #sirius black imagine #sirius black fluff #sirius black fic #marauders fic #biker sirius

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brittle-doughie · 1 year

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CRK Twitter is shitposting again. Also might be using a different writing format for these shorts lol

The six of you were all aboard the Red Velvet Dragon, there was a new movie playing very soon and you all have to get there before a large line forms.

You: *sighs*

This irritated Pomegranate Cookie, how dare Affogato Cookie keep her Master and Lord/Lady waiting.

Pomegranate: Where is Affogato Cookie? He’s testing me and my Lord’s/Lady’s patience…

Licorice: He said he had to do his makeup or something before we left.

Dark Choco: It’s been 15 minutes.

Pomegranate: It’s a simple movie showing, I fail to see the need to try and woo my Lord/Lady at this occasion.

This statement ended up just making Pomegranate even more irritated, the scowl on her face worsening. You could sense it, so you try to change the subject to something that needed to be addressed.

You: So why was it the Barbie movie again?

Dark Enchantress: It was done by the draw of a slip of paper in a hat…

You: And who placed that suggestion in there?

Pomegranate: ….

Dark Choco: ….

Licorice: ….

Poison Mushroom: Licorice Cookie, I saw you place it in the hat-

Licorice: WHA-NO! I saw you write it and put in the hat! Why would I want to watch a movie around Barbie?! PAH!

Pomegranate: Are you lying to them?

Licorice: I’m not, I SWEAR! Y/N Cookie, you believe me, right?!

You: I am willing to give you the benefit of the doubt.

Pomegranate: Be grateful for their generosity, Licorice Cookie.

Licorice: Phew…

Dark Enchantress: It’s rather unfortunate that Red Velvet Cookie will not be joining us.

You: The theater doesn’t allow pets, he’s not going anywhere without Chiffon. So Dark Choco gets his ticket.

Poison Mushroom: Dark Choco is back yaaaayyyy

Licorice: I still don’t get why it had to be the traitor prince himself though-AAH!

Licorice is spooked when Dark Choco Cookie brandished his sword in front of him.

Dark Choco: Watch your words…

Dark Enchantress: Oh hush with your arguing, remember who paid for these tickets..

Licorice: Me!

Pomegranate: You could barely afford your own, again it was the generosity of my Lord/Lady to pay for all of us…

Licorice: That’s 1/6th, still counts as a portion of it.

You: It’s nothing, you can pick up on a lot of coins if you know where to look.

Pomegranate: May I get the seat next to you, my Lord/Lady? Between you and my Master?

Pomegranate fantasized being seated between you and Dark Enchantress Cookie, she imagines as you wrap an arm around her to bring her close. She sighs contentedly at the prospect.

Licorice: I’ve worked hard, lemme get the seat next to them!

Pomegranate: What?

Poison Mushroom: You’ll sit next to me, Y/N Cookie, rrrright?

Dark Choco: Their soul is already corrupted enough, I will get the seat.

Pomegranate: Let a traitor sit next to my Lord/Lady? I will not allow that! My efforts far exceed your own, Licorice Cookie!

Licorice: You always get cozy with our Lord/Lady, it’s bad enough that you always seem to follow them around. Let me relish this.

Dark Choco: You two get to be around Y/N Cookie more often, this movie may be the only time I get to be close to them.

Pomegranate: I get the seat next to them and that is the end of the story.

Licorice: You wish!

Dark Choco: Stubborn fools!

Dark Enchantress: Enough, all of you!

Affogato: Apologies for being late, I had to make sure I look dazzling for the occasion. Especially when I’m seated next to my Lord/Lady.

Everyone: What?

Dark Enchantress: The seats are designated by the purchase and Affogato got the one next to Y/N Cookie. I’m not even seated next to them. A load of rubbish is what I’m seeing

The whole ride to the movies was Affogato, smug as a cat, cuddled to your side as he completely ignores the burning glares of 4 cookies, Poison Mushroom was just bummed out :(

#cookie run x reader #cookie run x you #cr x reader #crk x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #cookie run ovenbreak #cr kingdom #cookie run ovenbreak x reader #crob x reader #cr ovenbreak #pomegranate cookie #licorice cookie #dark choco cookie #affogato cookie #dark enchantress cookie #poison mushroom cookie

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lau219 · 29 days

Text

Enemies with Benefits

Part 2

Part 1 here

…………………………………………………………………………….

When she didn’t see any of them for the next three nights, Y/N was hopeful that their previous encounter would be their only one, and that she’d not have to deal with any of the Shelby men again. She’d gotten word before they’d ever entered her club that they had just purchased the only place left besides hers in the city that hadn’t yet come into Shelby ownership, and due to the reputation these guys had built for themselves, she knew she should’ve been prepared for an ambush.

The Shelby family was influential, greedy, and full of men who thought that money meant control, even though they already had more money than God. The simple fact was, they didn’t need her place to maintain their wealth. They hadn’t needed the last four places they’d purchased. They simply wanted to own everything for the sake of owning everything. Well, fuck that.

After arriving at work that night, Y/N headed out into the club with one of her managers, Elise, who was briefing her on how things had been going that night so far. They were down a bartender, and Y/N prepared to get behind the bar to help them get caught up when Elise gave her a final update.

“Oh, and there’s a guy at the bar who asked for you. He’s been here about an hour, waiting for you.”

“Huh?” Y/N squinted as she looked up from her phone. “What guy?”

“That one,” Elise said, pointing out in front of them.

Turning her head, Y/N followed Elise’s finger, and her stomach flipped as her eyes landed on who she was pointing to.

Sitting at the far end of the bar, a tumbler in one hand and a cellphone in the other, was Tommy Shelby. As if on cue, as soon as Y/N’s gaze landed on him, he looked up, and their eyes locked from across the room. A smile slowly appeared on Tommy’s face as he looked at her, but Y/N knew her own expression was not quite as friendly as she finished processing the fact that he was there.

“Who is he? Are you dating him?” Elise asked as Y/N turned back to her. “He’s hot.”

“He’s also a pompous prick,” Y/N replied. “True to Shelby reputation.”

“He’s a Shelby?” Elise asked, raising her eyebrows. “Wait, are you selling this place? Is that why he’s here?”

Y/N looked at Elise.

“No, I’m not selling this place – you know I’d never do that.”

“I heard how they bought out the other place uptown,” said Elise. “Now we’re the last club they don’t own.”

“Yeah,” Y/N replied. “And it’s going to stay that way. Now do me a favor and don’t tell anyone else who he is. I don’t want everyone freaking out thinking I’m selling this place or that their jobs are on the line. Just keep it quiet, and if he asks you anything about this place, don’t answer him, ok?”

“Ok,” Elise replied with a nod. Then she and Y/N parted ways, and Y/N was left to figure out how quickly she could get Tommy Shelby out of here.

Of course he’d come back. She’d been dealing with men like this the entire 8 years she’d owned this place, and they never gave up after the first try. She’d been silly to hope that she wouldn’t see any of them again, and as she headed behind the bar, she decided to put an end to this before he wasted any more of her time.

Their eyes locked again, and Tommy enjoyed the visual of her as Y/N walked towards him, his arrogant smile still present as she approached. Stopping in front of him, Y/N rested her forearms on the bar top as Tommy slipped his phone back in his jacket pocket.

“I told you already, I’m not selling this place. So you can skip whatever pitch or new angle you thought you’d try tonight and just head on home.”

“Hello to you, too,” Tommy replied, still smiling. “Do you greet all your patrons this way? I don’t know that everyone would find it as amusing as I do.”

Y/N glared at him.

“You’re wasting my time,” she said.

“You approached me, love. I’m simply here for a drink,” Tommy replied.

She glared again.

“Why not pay a visit to literally any other club in town? As the owner, you’ll get your drink for free.”

“And miss the opportunity for sparkling conversation with you? Not worth it.” Tommy took a sip from his glass and then looked at her again. “You look sexy as hell, by the way.”

Y/N scoffed in offended disbelief. The absolute nerve and arrogance of this guy was intolerable.

Still looking at her, Tommy lifted his glass again, but before it made it to his lips, Y/N reached out and grabbed it out of his hand, dumping the contents into the sink next to her behind the bar and then setting the glass back down.

“Oh, look at that, drink’s all gone,” she said with feigned remorse. “Time for you to be on your way, Mr. Shelby.”

God damn, she was a pistol. And Tommy fucking loved it. He made a face of amused indifference and then spoke.

“Nah, think I’ll stick around anyway. You’ve made me feel so welcome that I couldn’t possibly leave now and risk offending you.”

“You offended me the minute you walked in the door,” Y/N replied.

“I told you, love, I’m just here for a drink. No ulterior motives on the agenda tonight.”

Before she could respond, one of the bartenders called to Y/N, and she looked over her shoulder and told them she’d be right there. Turning back to Tommy, she narrowed her eyes.

“Don’t keep my staff from helping the customers who actually matter,” she said to him.

Tommy smirked as she stepped away, and after several minutes of watching her, he noticed some of the tension on her fade away as she began working alongside her bartenders, taking orders and making drinks for the countless patrons that approached the bar.

It was the real reason he’d come here tonight – to assess her. He knew how successful this place was, and he was intrigued to see exactly how Y/N ran this place that made it so. As he watched her from his seat, it quickly became apparent that she was not an owner who played the owner card.

She dove right in with her employees, picking up the slack wherever it was needed while still managing her staff and taking care of patrons. She knew how to make a drink, how to handle a rowdy customer, and how to keep everyone happy. She wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty, and she was a hell of a multitasker. This was the knowledge Tommy had come here for tonight, and he was pleased to learn that her work ethic fit right in with his plan.

Although he hadn’t said a word since she’d walked away from him, Y/N found it impossible to forget that Tommy Shelby was still sitting at the end of her bar. She could feel him watching her, and she refused to meet his eyes any time she had to be down by his end of the bar. She didn’t believe for a second that he wasn’t there because he was still after this place, and she just hoped that if she kept shooting him down and making this hard, he’d eventually give up.

After a while, Y/N got stuck towards where Tommy was seated as a large bachelorette party had gathered at that end of the bar and were demanding a plethora of mixed drinks and shots. Turning to reach for several glasses from the back-up supply under the sink, Y/N unintentionally looked at Tommy and saw that someone had refilled his drink at some point. As their eyes met, his glass was mid-air, and he winked at her over the rim as he took a sip. In spite of herself, she began to smile in amusement, but quickly caught it and turned back to the large group of ladies as she and one of her bartenders continued to fulfill their drink orders.

After they’d finally caught up and there was a moment of calm, Y/N began gathering up the mess of shot glasses, cocktail napkins, and toothpicks that the women had left behind.

“You’ve got quite the job description here, love,” Tommy said to her as she wiped off the counter. “Most owners don’t bother with actually helping their staff.”

“Yeah, well, I’m full of surprises,” Y/N replied, not looking at him.

“That’s the understatement of the century,” Tommy replied.

She looked up at him then, and when their eyes met, she once again almost smiled, but her attention shifted when one of her security guys walked past.

“Hey, Trevor, take this.” She then reached into her shirt and pulled out an ID card from her bra. Tommy’s eyes flashed to her chest, and he smiled to himself as he caught the briefest glimpse of the strapless lace inside her shirt. Y/N spoke again as she reached the card across the bar top.

“Tell Marcus that if he lets one more underage kid in here, he’s fired,” she said to Trevor. “That’s the third fake ID I’ve been handed this week.”

Further impressed, Tommy watched her as she gave another instruction to the guy before sending him off. So not only was she not afraid to get her hands dirty, but she also paid attention.

“Not too keen on letting the kids have some fun?” Tommy asked her.

She looked at him.

“Not when it jeopardizes my business,” she replied seriously. “It only takes one underage kid getting drunk and smashing into a telephone pole to get this whole place shut down.”

Tommy nodded, then pulled a cigarette out of the pack he’d set on the bar top.

“You know smoking kills you, right?” Y/N said to him.

“I would think that’s what you want, eh?” he replied with a smile.

Finally, Y/N allowed herself to smile back.

“Well, yes, but I’d imagined much more interesting ways for you to go than that.”

Tommy chuckled, and once again, Y/N was temporarily distracted by his gorgeous smile.

“Speaking of going, I’m afraid I’ve got to head out,” Tommy said to her.

Clicking her tongue, Y/N cocked her head.

“Darn,” she replied sarcastically.

Smiling again, Tommy stood from his stool and buttoned his suit jacket, and when he looked at her again, their eyes met a final time.

“I’ll see you soon, love,” he said.

Then he turned and walked out, leaving Y/N wondering if his last sentence had been a promise or a threat.

Part 3

@nyxxie-pooh @xsweetcatastrophe @febris-amatoria @natalie--rushman @alltoowellbeneaththemangotree

@beastofburdenxo @aphroditeslover11 @garrison-girl-08 @meister95 @hannibellector

@betty21rose @allie131313 @neonpurplestars89-blog @fuseburner @devotedlyshadowytheorist

@ceirinen @hudson-bay-girl @runnning-outof-time

#modern tommy shelby #modern tommy shelby x reader #modern tommy #modern tommy shelby smut #modern peaky blinders #18+ only

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tadpolesonalgae · 11 months

Text

Demon!Azriel x Reader: Teeth and Talons - Part 5[*?]

A/N: Baby steps, Azzie. Baby steps.

Warnings: degradation, sexual tension, almost smut, 6.9K words

-Part 4- -Part 6-

You wake to the feeling of a wet snout pressing into the crook of your neck.

Azriel.

You jerk away from the large creature, deep hazel shining through the darkness of his blacked out eyes. “I’ve told you not to do that,” you snap groggily at him. He ignores you. Typical. You shift away from him again but flinch when his tongue lolls out, flicking over the bare skin as he tastes you, shoving tighter against your body. Your fingers thread through his fur for purchase, gripping him as you tug lightly, ordering him to get off you.

“Azriel…I’m trying to sleep, can you not?” The male merely growls softly in response. You huff, then yelp when he shifts—more toward his humanoid form—one powerful arm wrapping beneath your torso as he smushes you against him. You hesitate. He’s never this affectionate. The only time he particularly cares to touch you is while he’s fucking you—or breeding you, as he so detachedly calls it. Your nose crinkles at his wording alone. It makes it sound so unemotional. You suppose fucking isn’t exactly any better.

You sigh. The bathhouse had been nice, in a way. He’d seemed to care about your pain, though you were unsure if that was due to you being his bride or not. Perhaps it was a proprietary instinct. You sometimes wondered if he had any attachment to you or if it was just that you held the title of bride. The name had become a weight, as of late.

“Get ready,” he says, finally pulling from your body, allowing you to flop unceremoniously back into the plethora of pillows—you still don’t know where they had come from, they just sort of appeared one night. You peer up at him, fingers still laced in the fur that dusts the corded muscle of his upper paws. “For what?” You narrow your eyes at the male, his features completely blank, save for the light reflecting in his mostly onyx gaze.

He growls softly at the questioning, but relents. “Out.” You stare up at him—glare up at him—silently willing him to understand how unhelpful he is. His brow dips when you don’t release him. You wonder why he doesn’t just pull away, it wouldn’t be too much effort. You both know he’s far superior to you in terms of, well, everything…

“It will do you some good to go outside again. It’s been a week.” Since you were dragged through unending marshland, cold biting at your soggy skin. You shake your head, “I don’t want to.” The light in his eyes sharpens to something more lethal, more dæmon-like. “Either you prepare, or I take you as you are.” Almost entirely unclothed. “It’s for your own good,” he adds when your fingers loosen their grip, “your kind shouldn’t go long without the light of the world.”

Your lips twist in a satiric smile, “I would have thought your kind would detest the sun.” It had become a game of sorts—to yourself, you doubt Azriel derives any sort of pleasure from humour—to see how many passive aggressive comments you could make before he finally picks up on them.

He doesn’t deign you with a response.

“I need you to get off me in order to change,” you deadpan, unthreading your hands from his fur, albeit reluctantly. His brows narrow but he removes himself from you, shifting to stand at the edge of the bed, waiting silently as you move to the chest that holds your clothes. “Where are you taking me?” You don’t look at him as you speak, though you feel his gaze stabbing between your shoulder blades. “Out.” He repeats. You drop the clothes in frustration, spinning on your feet, “I need to know more than ‘out’ so I can dress appropriately.”

His arms fold over his chest as his features morph into what can only be described as a grimace, his eyes glazed. They sharpen again, as if he had come out of thought. “By a river.”

“By a river…” you repeat, trying not to show your exasperation. Your fingers find your temples as you rub lightly, then move to the bridge of your nose. You take a deep breath, returning your gaze to him, “and the temperature? The weather?”

“Fine.”

“I need more than fine, Azriel.” His brow narrows—he’s getting impatient.

He prowls across the room on lethally silent feet. You take a step back slowly, your thighs bumping into the chest, making you stumble. Hastily, you right yourself, in time to see the male pull an ankle length dress from the wooden box. He forcefully pushes it into your arms, his inhuman strength having you yield a step with the momentum behind it. Then he’s grabbing you by your upper arm, pulling you tight against him, free hand gripping your hip as shadows and darkness swarms around you. Just like how they had when he had first found you.

A horrifying weightlessness overtakes you, and you grip onto him in any way you can as something like wind howls in your ears. And then it’s over, and you’re stood on grass. You blink; he releases you. Immediately, your arms crisscross over your body, stepping into the large build of his body.

He watches you keenly—you’re panicking. His hands grip your shoulders, steadying you. “What is it?” You glare up at him, fury and fear blazing together in your eyes. “‘What is it?’” You seethe, “I’m practically bare!” You hiss, eyes jumping about as you scan for other people that would inevitably be around. “What is—” you cut yourself off, “why did you do this? What did I do wrong?” Ire lights your eyes as they return to his, “what if someone sees me? Do you not understand human dignity?” You snap, angrily.

His fingers tighten on your shoulders in silent reprimand. “You think I would bring you somewhere other eyes could see you?” Azriel growls, displeasure shining through his usually bland tone. You tilt your head at that, confusion marring your features. “What’s that supposed to mean? And what does it matter if people see me?” You retort. When he opens his mouth to respond, lips twisted down at the edges, you hurriedly beat him to it—which he does not appreciate. “With clothes on.”

“You’re my bride,” he says simply, voice rough around the edges, as if that clears everything up. You furrow your brows at him, still skittish from the idea of someone seeing, and it makes you jumpy. His wings flare at his back, furling around you as you’re hidden from sight, despite him knowing there’s not another soul anywhere nearby.

Contemplation flashes through your eyes at the action, making you pause. You clear your throat, tension slowly seeping from your body, “calling me your bride doesn’t explain anything to me.” Your voice has evened out. It seems you’ve calmed now that your imagined threat is held at bay. A kernel of satisfaction sprouts in his chest.

“Until the ceremony, you are to be kept under my watch from now on.” Your head tilts, like a curious animal. You’re picking up on some less-human mannerisms, and it pleases him. The less human you appear, the easier he can forget about the Ritual.

“What ceremony? Why only now?”

“Stop asking so many questions. They bore me.” Your fingers tighten on the dress he’d shoved in your direction. “I’m so sorry they bore you, Azriel.” His brow dips at your tone, sensing you want to argue. “Get changed if you’re uncomfortable. You have clothes.”

“Where am I supposed to change?” You bite out, clutching the dress closer to your torso. “Here.”

You stare up at him, taken aback. “In front of you?”

“Does it bother you?” Your eyes widen, lips parting in shock.

“We’re in public,” you beseech, “can’t you use those shadows or something? I’m not having you watch while I change!”

“You would like my hands on you as well as my eyes?” It’s impossible but you manage to look positively scandalised. You splutter up at him, while he watches silently. “You can feel? With those shadows?” You murmur.

Azriel nods, pleasure warming him as you flush. All you can think about is every quiet brush they’ve given you, every small push to get you out of bed, every touch as you fall asleep, every lick between your thighs. You swallow, “oh…” He waits. “I didn’t…I didn’t know that.” You clear your throat at a poor attempt at modesty.

Heat always seems to twist inside him whenever you try to appear dignified. The promise he’ll get to spoil it.

You realise he’s waiting for you to change, and you tug your lower lip between your teeth, “can you at least close your eyes?” They seem to sharpen at your comment, taking you in with renewed interest. “You seemed to like my eyes on you when I had my tongue between your legs.” You suck in a sharp breath, cheeks heating as you freeze, mouth open at his salacious statement.

“There is a time and a place for everything,” you manage, primly, locking your eyes on a space below his jaw. “When’s the time and place for breeding you again?” He drawls casually, silently revelling at the heat radiating from your body. Maybe he said that simply to get a rise out of you. You take a step back from him, but his shadows glide up your legs—up the backs of your bare thighs—to keep you in place as they twine about. He can scent the arousal that’s alight in your belly, the beast inside of him wishing for nothing more than to pin you to the ground and fuck you into the dirt.

He knows you would enjoy it.

Your heart is pounding wildly in your chest, watching the moment his pupils dilate, the only sign of his own arousal your human senses can pick up on. Fear and heat twine together, making a mess of your insides. “Strip.” Your mouth goes dry at the quiet command. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips that are suddenly dry, but regret it when his blown out eyes mark the movement.

“I…” you stammer, his gaze flicking up to yours with arrogant expectation. “Not now…” you request softly—fearfully. “I don’t— Not after…” Not after the everlasting fields of freezing mud you were dragged through, thinking every breath was the last before you were pulled beneath the stagnant pools of water. “I’m telling you to change,” he drawls, and shame heats your body, looking away hurriedly. You hate it when he misleads you like that, plays his games with you that leave you stumbling blindly after him, in a mix of fear and confusion. A mess of emotions.

You try to push your embarrassment down, but you know he can sense every sign your human body reveals to him, leaving you stripped bare before him. As though you’re strapped to a dissection table for him to examine at his pleasure. “Go on,” he encourages, dark amusement underlying his tone as his eyes pierce into you.

Swallowing, you turn away from him, sliding the straps of the silky night vest off your shoulders. “You think it wise to turn your back to me?” He drawls. You freeze when his shadows wrap around your waist, slipping beneath your top. He can feel all of that. “Azriel…” you breathe, shakily, “why did you bring me here? Really?” You turn your head, peering at him demurely from over the bare slope of your shoulder.

The dim hazel of his eyes is cold; hard. Despite the sun in the sky, hairs raise across your body beneath his icy gaze. “Because you need it.” He replies, mouth set in its usual bland line.

“Who are you to say what I need?” You murmur quietly, watching him through your lashes. His shadows thicken, beginning to blot out the sun. The male prowls closer, wings tightening around you, “do you believe differently?”

“I believe I would like to have my agency returned, and not have you lord over me.”

“You’d like me to leave you alone?” You dip your head. Yes, that would be perfect. “That ended well the last time, didn’t it?” He drawls, words bladed with a lethal edge.

Heat ravages your body, “you’re not putting that on me.”

His wings circle tighter, and with a final shove, you’re sent stumbling into him, his hands snaking round your waist, brushing over your hips as they choose to set themselves at the small of your back. “If you hadn’t been so set on remaining a lone creature, then no. It wouldn’t have happened,” he growls.

“So what? I’m supposed to remain locked in your chambers until…? When? You were the one who stressed how my kind need to feel the outside world every once in while, yet now you’re trying to take that away from me?” Anger freezes his eyes, warmth seeping from the hazel as they’re swallowed by blackness.

“If you would just learn to obey me, you wouldn’t find your life riddled with such suffering,” he snarls softly, shadows completely blocking out the sun. “Obey you?” You utter quietly, staring up at him in horrified disbelief. “And why would I ever do that?” With each word, his hands raise higher, until they’re set on your waist. “Because you chose to submit to me, remember?” He snarls, lip curling. “I made it very clear. Gave you every opportunity to pull away. But you were the one who came to me, the one who crawled on her hands and knees to me, every night.” One hand leaves your waist, only to wrap around your throat. “Or do you need a reminder what you were crawling for?”

You bristle at his owning touch, wanting to shrink away, knowing how easily he could snap your neck. “You don’t own me,” you tremble, feeling the squeeze of his fingers, the press of his hips—and something else you dare not acknowledge—as he pulls you tight against his body. “You can’t—…you can’t tell me what to do. Or order me about like that. That’s not how—” you cut yourself off, before you lay more of your aching heart bare to him, “that’s not right.”

A terrifying silence echoes between you, freezing ire blazing in the depths of his pitch black eyes. He jerks you closer, squeezing your neck as he curls down, features sharpening, turning beastly. “What’s stopping me?”

Heat wells behind your eyes as the extent of his power dawns on you. No one’s going to stop him, and between him and the beasts that stole you away, he knows that to you he’s the lesser evil. So you’ll remain with him until he’s done with you, because he’s the best that you have. “That’s right,” he murmurs over your mouth, “you can’t do anything against me. If I want something from you, I’m going to take it.”

He releases you, suddenly. So suddenly you don’t have a chance to realise how dependant you’d become on him until he removes his support. Your knees buckle as you stumble, crashing to the floor, bare knees hitting the grass. “Now, why don’t we start on getting you properly trained, and have you change out of those damned clothes?” He growls quietly, not an ounce of amusement to be found, getting off on how far he can push you. How low he can shove you.

The dress is still clutched to your chest, both straps of your vest spilling off your arms. Shakily, you move to stand, so you can follow his orders, like he wants.

Azriel lifts his boot from the ground, pressing it down on your shoulder painfully. You wince at the heavy pressure, collapsing back onto your knees. “I think you should stay down there a little longer,” he drawls, sadism shining in his charcoal gaze, “help you learn your place.”

Shame weighs heavily on you as you bow your head, too hurt and embarrassed to look at him. He’d been so gentle before—asking you where the pain was so he could stop it. How are you supposed to resolve the polar opposites of his character?

You choose to further repress the part of you that wants him to push you down into the dirt.

He removes his boot, allowing you to follow through with his orders. You refuse to look up as you kneel in front of him—the Mother knows where it would lead. You peel away the silk of your top, and you suck in a sharp breath of air between your teeth when his shadows grow at your back. They build, their cool caress like whispers over your skin as they wrap around your middle, flowing across your stomach before branching upward, cupping your breasts.

Azriel releases a pleased growl when you don’t attempt to move away from them, allowing his shadows to brush your skin, flick gently over your nipples. He sees you biting your lip but says nothing about your silence, just content you’ve finally obeyed him and adorned yourself in the dress.

Ever so slowly, you raise up onto your knees, and it takes a surprising amount of effort on his end to not grab your oblivious form by the hair and pull you against his hips. He can only imagine what you would look like, lips swallowing his cock, tongue licking over the tip, tears rolling down your cheeks. He grits his teeth as he imagines how you would look with his come decorating your cheeks, the erotic liquid like a smattering of freckles. Maybe you’d swallow him down. Open your mouth wide with a smile to show him how obedient you’d been.

One day, he swears to himself, one day he’ll have you trained well enough you’ll do that unprompted.

The perfect, superficial symbol of innocence for him to have fun with.

You manage to get to your feet, and flush when you look down at yourself. The dress is cream, light and breathable, as modest as any dress you would normally wear out. Sleeves down to the wrist, hem down to your ankles, the neck concealing your collar bones. It feels like a small snippet of home, and you allow your fingers to graze the crisp material.

“Thank me.”

You peer up at him, arms wrapping across your chest, keeping your nightclothes in your hands. “‘Thank me’?” You echo, voice shaking. “For what?” You swear something like amusement gleams in his eyes as he leans down, so he can stare at you. “For bringing you to a river instead of dumping you in some frozen wasteland for the beasts to fight over.”

Then his wings are pulling away, shadows retracting back to him, light returning to your skin.

You stare up at him, wide-eyed, and feel yourself fracture. The tiniest break, splitting along your vertebrae. Your lips part slightly, vision blurring with painful confusion. He’s so…volatile. You can never tell what mood he’s in. Whether he’ll be nice to you, let you nestle into his fur when he shifts to sleep, or whether he’ll snarl and snap, degrade and punish you until your pieces are lying scattered across the ground.

“Why must you say things like that?” You ask weakly. Keeping yourself together in front of him. He’d enjoy your destruction, no doubt. You won’t give him the satisfaction. Not this time, at least.

“I will not repeat myself to you.”

You hear the words loud and clear. I will not repeat myself to a human. The edges of your mouth wobble, but you straighten your spine, raising your chin. “Do you find them funny?” Your voice trembles, but you dig your nails into your palms as you lower your fists to your side. “Does it entertain you to torment my people? To be so cruel to me?” A muscle feathers in your jaw as you try to maintain your stance, but it’s difficult to do when you’ve seen the carnage he can wreak.

“Do you find amusement in belittling me? Hope to push me until I crumble before you, like the weak human I am?” Your mouth is set in a sad line, turned down at the edges while your pupils are blown out with fear. You take a small, trembling step forward, craning your neck to stare him down, baring your throat. He could rip it out before you even know he’s moving. It’s a quiet taunt on your part, perhaps the only act of rebellion he will tolerate. One where you’re put at his mercy.

“I will weather you, Azriel. And I will not crumble. For some reason, the gods have thrown me to you, but I trust in them to guide me, so until my last breath, I will stand against you, and use my every skill to push back.” You silently pray you haven’t been abandoned. That some entity watches over you, still.

A small kernel of hope lights in your chest as you move to walk past him, and he does not reach to murder or maim you.

A shudder passes through your body as your feet carry you farther and farther away, enjoying the distance they give you as they move you to the river bank.

You hadn’t had a chance to admire it’s beauty, the pebbled land beside the babbling river. The willow trees that line it’s edge, swaying with the breeze. You could sigh with contentment as the light wind catches at your dress, playing with its hem. You make your way toward the edge of the grassland, and a slight drop down onto the small shore has you crouching to make the jump.

Some distance away, Azriel watches you. He feels disturbed; ruffled. He should be splattering you on the stones, drowning you in a muddy field, but he can’t find so much as a spark of anger. Instead, he feels strangely calm.

You’d spoken so softly to him, and though he hadn’t liked what you had to say, you’d been so understated he’d been left with a yawning pit inside his chest yet nothing was filling it. Rage should be pouring in, lighting his skin, but he just feels empty. Itchy, almost skittish.

If you had spoken at him with fury, or hatred, he would be able to retaliate.

A low growl sounds in his chest with grim frustration at your strategies. He’s not familiar with your quiet warfare. He wants to get under your skin, make you spark up like he does, wants you to bare you fangs at him and show your talons but you insist on keeping them hidden.

Maybe he’d misjudged you.

Maybe you don’t even have any claws to bare.

————

You feel jumpy with him being so silent.

You sneak a peek at him from the corner of your eye, crouching beside the shallow river. He’s shifted into a more beastly form, fur covering him, snout resting over the powerful muscle of one of his paws, wings tucked into his sides while he lies on his stomach.

You do your best to ignore him, but he’s been surprisingly docile, snoozing peacefully in the dappled shade of a willow tree. Sometimes you think you feel his eyes on you, but they’re always closed when you turn to check.

The water looks delightfully cool, and you consider dipping your feet in, only to be reminded how inappropriate that would be. Especially with male company.

A butterfly flutters up to you and you yelp, falling backward with surprise as it remains in your face. You stiffen, squeezing your eyes shut. Something tickles the bridge of your nose, and when you open your eyes, you see it’s settled down.

You scream, reeling back as you frantically brush it from your face, heart pounding as you feel the flutter of it’s wings against your palms. It leaves you in peace, thankfully, as you shudder, wiping down your hands on your dress, trying to rid them of that spasmodic sensation.

Azriel growls lowly, displeased at your racket, cracking open a single eye to peer at your form. You quickly turn away when you see he’s watching you, freezing where you are, waiting for him to inevitably prowl up behind you, poised to rip you apart. But he just huffs, settling back into his dozing.

Maybe he likes it here.

You suppose it wouldn’t be unreasonable. You used to see creatures lazing by the riverside before you were snatched away. How they would bathe in the water then dry off on the large, flat rocks. They looked so peaceful and calm, relaxing in the sun, made drowsy from the heat.

A bead of sweat slides down your temple and you hastily brush it aside. It’s getting quite hot.

Well, it’s either settle beside him in the limited shade, or wander to the river. The willow trees provide a small amount of shadow on the opposite side, which is perhaps six large steps across from you. One look at the sleeping beast has you getting to your feet and gingerly tip-toeing to the water’s edge.

You lift the hem of your dress, so it comes to your knees as you take a small step into the cool stream. It’s shockingly cold, considering the heat, and you quickly remove your toes from it’s freezing current. But you’re still to hot, so you try again.

It takes you a while before you’re able to wander deeper, the peaceful water raising to your ankles. You sigh with contentment, eyes sliding shut for a moment as a breeze blows past you, ruffling your hair as it spins the wisps from your face, pleasantly cooling your heated skin. You take a few small steps farther, entering the dip in the riverbed.

The water rises to your calves, and you raise your dress higher, bunching it so it’s just below your hips. The shade washes over you, now up to the tops of your thighs in the babbling stream, the deepest it goes. Perfectly safe, and calm. Surprisingly tranquil.

Until that damned butterfly.

It’s returned with a pair, and they flutter straight into you, dancing around your head as they twirl and flap. You flinch, foot slipping on the slick river stones, and you drop.

The water swallows you, freezing cold shocking against your skin as your eyes squeeze shut, lips sealing against the invasive pressure of the river. The iciness seeps into your bones too quickly, cooling your sun warmed skin in an instant, and suddenly you’re back in the marshland. Like you never escaped in the first place.

The rain is lashing against your skin, wind whipping your hair as it cracks against your muddied cheeks, lightening and thunder sparking in the sky as it booms across the clouds. Your fingers sink into thickened, sludgy water as you claw for air, heart slamming against your ribs as the bed gives out beneath you.

It feels as though there’s no bottom, and you can’t tell up from down, and you need air dear gods you need air and—

In the back of your mind, you hear something from the outside world splash. And then something is hooking beneath you, hoisting you from the water and you splutter, gasping for precious air. The world’s swaying slightly when you manage to open your eyes, collapsing against the sturdy warmth beneath you.

You swallow, looking down as you use your hands to push your upper body straight. You choke on saliva in surprise as you realise you’re perched on his snout, legs hooked either side it’s bridge, your hands resting on the space between his eyes. You’re in his blind spot.

You yelp as he begins to move, flattening yourself against his wet fur as he shifts out of the water, disrupting its flow as if cutting through butter that’s been left in the sun. Your legs squeeze him as your grab at his fur, tensing as he prowls out of the water, so quiet despite his large form.

A thin branch of willow traces over your spine with how high he’s raised you and you flinch, shuddering as the wind begins to freeze your water-soaked dress. He growls as he brings you into the sun, leaping up onto the grassy bank, lowering to a crouch for you to slide off as he begins to shift.

It catches you by surprise though, and you tighten your grip in his fur, trying to keep from slumping to the ground. It doesn’t do much to help you—you end up flat on your back, eyes squeezed shut, hands still fisted in his fur.

“Get off me.”

He’s looking more familiar, hazel eyes returned, humanoid features peaking through against the natural sharpness of his dæmon complexion.

Your heart is still pounding, but you can feel the breeze, can feel the grass beneath your back, and you’re inhaling the clean air that’s void of any stagnant smells. Your vision blurs as you stare up at him, pulling your hands away.

You feel wrecked.

You curl up into yourself, rolling onto your side, covering your face with your hands as tremors run through your skin. Your lungs spasm as your breathing increasing, turning to startling gasps, quick and hurried. You grit your teeth, muscles contracting across your body as your brow furrows, teeth sinking into your lower lip as you try to block out the onslaught on memories.

With a frustrating amount of effort, you roll onto your stomach, crawling out from under him, but his hand wraps around your ankle, pulling you back. You grunt as you hit the ground, his shadows rolling you over so you’re facing him.

“What was that?”

He’s watching you intently, and you feel a spark of anger toward him, but quickly smother it. It wouldn’t be wise to piss him off, not when he just hauled you out of that river.

“What was what?” You manage, mouth trembling. His lip curls as you feign ignorance. “That.”

You exhale a shaky breath, pushing up onto your elbows. He doesn’t yield any space as you prop yourself up, your faces inches apart. You try to shuffle back but he prowls after you. “You can’t swim.”

“I can swim perfectly fine,” you breathe, trying not to let his proximity overwhelm you. “I just slipped.”

“You were scared.”

“I was not.” You insist.

“I can feel it. You’re still scared.”

“I am not.” You don’t think it’s a good idea to let him know your fears. “Is it me?” He growls, lowering closer to you, “do I scare you?”

“Not one bit.” It’s an obvious lie, but one said to protect yourself. He knows it as well as you do.

“Liar.”

Piss off.

“You don’t scare me.” You lift closer to him, praying your arms don’t give out as your mouth brushes his. “You can’t kill me. I’m your bride.”

“I can do worse than kill you.”

“If you wanted to, you would have. If you wanted to, you wouldn’t have come to get me when I was—” You swallow, pushing away the memories as they invasively press against your mind. “You wouldn’t have saved me,” you admit, refusing to back away, calmly standing your ground as he bares down on you.

Fuck, you’re so close to him. If he just lowers his mouth, just shifts a little closer—

The river water has soaked your dress, highlighting every dip and line of your body, showing off the shape of your breasts without revealing anything. And you’re beneath him. If he just lifts your dress, he could get to you. You’re practically begging for him to take you, with that scent of yours, those quietly determined eyes…

“You wouldn’t have helped me out of the river just now, either.”

Azriel zones back in, eyes lifting from your body to return to your face, and your mouth.

“I don’t know if it has something to do with my supposed ‘perfect compatibility’, but so far, you’ve managed to keep from hurting me. Even if you’ve been wildly unpleasant during the course of my stay.”

He curses silently. There you go, acting all prim and proper again, letting foolish human dignity guide your actions. Heat coils down his spine, boiling beneath his skin. Your prudish nature, the cream gown that’s accentuating the inherent eroticism he finds in you, the firm set of your eyes as you steadily take him in— He feels himself hardening.

“‘Wildly unpleasant’?” He snarls softly, moving forward, forcing you to yield ground or else his mouth will connect with your own. “I’ve been nothing but generous to you,” he grits out. His pupils are dilated, pulse picking up as he again imagines you in all sorts of positions you would surely wish to slap him for picturing.

How good your mouth would feel, how perfect you would look kneeling. His shadows whisper to him, repeating how you’d moaned his name.

‘Azriel’

‘Az’

‘Azzie…’

“You stole me from my home,” you accuse, softly. His breathing seems shallower, and you wonder if he needs to move into the shade. The sun’s been beating down on his back for a while now. Even your own clothes have more or less stopped dripping. He must be boiling.

A harsh breath hisses from his teeth. “You seem to conveniently forget that it was me who saved you.”

“In that frozen wasteland, yes.” You repeat his words back to him, with a little more bite that you had intended. His lip pulls back from his teeth, gritting them against the urge to wrap his arm beneath your back to pull your chest tight against him. Just to have you touching him in some way. Not this taunting game you’re playing, keeping him just out of reach.

“You were going to be eaten in that forest. I took you from those creatures. They would have shredded your soft skin with the gentlest brush of their teeth.”

Your lips purse. He’s got you there.

“Nothing to say against that?” He taunts quietly, moving so you have to look at him. He needs to get this conversation wrapped up so he can put his own teeth on you. It’s been so long since he last tasted you, and his tongue flicks against his canines with anticipation, mouth watering.

He watches as your eyes dip away from his, body stiffening as your gaze lands between his legs. Heat flushes your cheeks and he needs you. You move backward, raising a hand to press against his shoulder as he inevitably follows. Something like a mix between a growl and a purr sounds in his chest, and your lower belly heats.

“Azriel…” You warn, pressing harder against him as you try to crawl away. His arm snakes around your back, smushing you against him but he needs more, needs to have you riding him. He needs you to need him.

“I don’t believe you’re hurt when I pleasure you.” He growls, and you feel every letter on your lips, the aroused drag of his voice as his hand trails lower, settling on the swell of your ass. “In fact, I think you rather enjoy me. As much as you try to deny yourself.” You shake your head, attempting denial. But then his large palm scoops beneath you, lifting you up and you have to grab onto his neck to keep from falling backward.

He pulls back, so he’s kneeling on the grass, keeping you tight against him, not an ounce of space between your chests and finally he feels himself begin to relax. He indulges in the decadent feel of your body over his, the elegant sweep of your arms, the rise and fall of your chest, the way your thighs tense with how close you are.

You gasp, hurriedly untangling your arms from his shoulders as you attempt to pull your dress down that’s ridden up to your thighs. Azriel growls, gaze dropping to between your legs as he thumbs the front of your dress up further, revealing you to him. This time you swear he purrs, shadows gripping your hips as he raises you to perch atop his cock.

“Azriel, stop.” You bark with surprising force, palms splaying across his broad shoulders in attempts to leverage yourself.

His large, near-black eyes bare into you, and it’s a struggle to keep his gaze. You realise his pupils are dilating. No, not dilating. Almost splitting— seeping across his irises and they begin to fill the whites of his eyes.

Oh.

“Azriel, do not—”

He’s already shifting, eyes dimming to pitch black, carnal features sharpening as his canines protrude from his upper lip. In another situation, you might have been in awe as you feel him shift, actually feel how the skin grows to accommodate the transformation. Traitorous heat flushes your cheeks as you feel his fur brush against your legs, your inner thighs—

You can feel his cock at your entrance, and you think you might already be dripping down onto him.

A large, taloned hand lifts your chin as his hips press upward, making to guide himself deeper into your heat. “Just the tip,” he taunts, that lazy drawl of his setting something fluttering between your legs. “You can manage the tip, can’t you?” Your nails bite into his skin but he doesn’t even feel it. “Don’t you ‘just the tip’, me,” you whisper, finding it difficult to speak properly with the knowledge that you could just sink down—

No, you can’t let him do this. He has a mastery over lulling you into a state of submissive arousal, using his temptation to seduce you in obeying him.

What were you talking about again?

Satisfaction glides down his spine as he notes your glazed eyes, how you’re becoming more pliant beneath his touch. Just a little longer, and you’ll be sinking down into his lap, and he can feel as your heat swallows him, wrapping snuggly around his cock. He nearly groans from pleasure.

He can scent your arousal, feel how slick you are. How easy it will be to slide in, bury himself inside of you.

“No. You always do this.” You say, pushing out of his lenient grip, quickly stumbling backward as you shove your dress down to your ankles.

What?

He blinks away the haze that you’d manage to cast him under. Witch.

Your cheeks are still flushed, but awareness is sparking in your eyes as you take him in. Damn you.

He begins to prowl forward, shifting his arms to paws, his features sharpening further as he rises into a quadrupedal form.

You root yourself to the ground as he stalks forward, your hands fisting in your cold dress. Before he can start anything however, you speak first. “I want you to listen to me,” you manage, shakily. You have to do better. If he senses uncertainty, he’ll pounce.

Azriel snarls, snout nosing roughly at the mouthful of your belly, running up between your breasts.

“You’re capable of reason, just like I am. So act like it.”

He shifts in the blink of an eye, startling you, but you refuse to yield any ground, even as his shadow spills onto you. He’s trying to intimidate you, you realise. You’d seen animals do it countless times: making themselves appear larger to scare off— Predators.

For whatever reason that he’ll inevitably hide from you, he believes you to be a threat of some kind. Something he doesn’t know how to deal with.

“You have rationality, and a conscious, don’t you?” You meet his blacked out gaze, and feel your courage draining. Why are you trying to pick a fight with a dæmon? “I can take whatever I want from you, human.” He growls softly, reaching for your hips.

“No, you can’t.” His fingers pause a little away from your clothed skin.

“What’s stopping me?” He growls, stepping closer so you can feel his presence.

You clench your hands into fists as you look up at him steadily, “maybe you should be asking yourself that, Azriel.”

He stiffens, and you’ve gotten him. You don’t need him to concede, or for it to be a clear win—you know you’ve gotten him.

Finally, you take a step away, and his pupils shrink with the movement. “I’m going to lay in the sun, and dry off. Don’t try anything while I’m resting.”

Maybe you could have done without the niceties, but you seemed to have found somewhat stable footing, and you aren’t going to squander that by suddenly trying to push him around.

It’s progress, you remind yourself as you step out of his reach, walking back toward the bank. It seems like progress is being made.

You settle down a little way from his previous spot in the shade, so he won’t be as on edge. Maybe it would be worth thanking him for saving you—he does have a point about that. You would most definitely be dead had he not taken you from those woods.

Azriel said he wouldn’t bring you to a place where other eyes could see you, so you decide to show him you’ll trust him—this once. Work on that tenuous bond that’s slowly forming.

It’s probably not much by dæmon standards, but you undo some of the buttons of your dress, creating a V that shows the top of your chest, and loosening your sleeves to reveal your forearms a little more.

You hear him prowling by, moving to settle beneath the dappled shade.

You wonder if he made the noise for your sake.

Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020

#Azriel #acotar #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel smut #shadowsinger #teeth and talons #demon!azriel

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vodika-vibes · 10 days

Note

hiiii! i would like to send in a request for your follower event please!!! i was thinking of a monster/ghost au where the reader (i’ll leave gender up to you i’m not picky lol) was a medic for the 501st and was dating echo but died. so the reader is now a ghost haunting echo after he joins the bad batch!! i’m not sure if i want echo (or even the bad batch + omega) to be able to see the reader so i’ll leave that up to you as well if that’s okay? it’ll be like a surprise!! but i do want this to have a happy ending if possible please!!

Oh Traveler Come

Summary: You’ve always been a practical person. Realistic. So when you’re killed in an attack on the Resolute you’re legitimately surprised to find yourself sticking around after death. It’s not the way your world is supposed to work. But, when you find yourself bound to Echo, Echo who you were dating before he died, you start to think that maybe there’s a reason for it.

Pairing: TBB Echo x F!Reader

Word Count: 1542

Warnings: Some angst

Prompt: Ghost/Monster AU

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: I wasn't sure, at first, how I was going to write this one, but I think I kind of like the idea that I came up with. Thanks for your request!

“What a hell hole,” You scrunch up your nose as you trail after Echo into the barracks of his new squad, “Honestly Echo,” You say to your boyfriend, former boyfriend, who you know can’t hear you, “You should bully them into cleaning more. This is a crime against me.”

Echo doesn’t respond. Of course he doesn’t. He can’t see you, though sometimes it feels like he can hear you.

Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking on your part.

You’re a ghost. You died in an attack on the Resolute. Well, to be more precise, you were killed by Ventress. At least, you’re pretty sure that’s what happened.

To be fair to yourself, you don’t actually remember dying.

But you’re a ghost, so you must have died. It’s the only logical conclusion.

For a time, you were attached to Fives, and then he died (and oh, isn’t that just infuriating? You know everything that Fives learned, but you can’t tell anyone-) and then you found yourself hovering over Echo.

You suppose it makes an odd sort of sense. You’ve always been closer to the domino twins than anyone else on the ship…well, outside of Kix. Although, you’re not disappointed that you’re not stuck haunting Kix.

Absently, you roll in the air so that you’re lounging on your back, you tuck your arms under your head and cross your legs. Being a ghost is weird. You can only travel so far away from Echo before you’re snapped back to his side, floating through walls still feels…weird. And you constantly feel like you’re spying on the boys.

Also, you don’t need to sleep anymore.

You shift when you hear a thunk, and you make a face when you see Hunter stripping his armor off. Time to make yourself scarce, just because they don’t know that they’re being haunted doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t allow them some privacy.

Sure, if you’ve seen one naked clone, you’ve seen them all. But still.

The only person you have any interest in seeing naked is Echo…and even then, not when he’s not aware that you’re watching.

You allow yourself to drift through the wall, and then sit up and cross your legs, lazily allowing your gaze to drift over the men walking through the hall.

What a lonely existence you’ve been cursed with.

Your hands find no purchase. Your gestures catch no eyes. And your pleas, whether they be whispered or screamed, reach not a single ear.

What horrific crime must you have committed to be cursed with this? It must have been truly awful-

“Hello?”

There’s no other explanation-

“Helloooo?”

This has to be a punishment-

“How are you floating?”

Wait, what?

Your gaze snaps to right in front of you. There’s a small child, a little blonde girl, standing in front of you, looking up at you through wide brown eyes. “...you can see me?”

“Yes, of course I can.”

“Gods,” You drop from the air until your kneeling in front of her, “How long has it been-”

She reaches out and presses her hands against your cheeks, and you’re surprised that she can touch you, “You’re cold.” The little girl says with a small frown, “Like touching ice.”

“I’m a ghost, little one.” You say through a choked laugh, “I have been for what feels like ages.”

“My name is Omega.” She says with a bright smile, “What’s your name?”

You blink the tears out of your eyes, as you introduce yourself.

“Would you like to come to my room with me? You must be so lonely.”

“I wish I could, but I’m bound to Echo.” You jab your thumb towards the door.

Omega looks from you, to the door, and then back to you. “He can’t see you?”

“Nope.”

“Or hear you?”

“Not at all.”

“That’s so sad!” Omega looks like she’s about to cry for a moment, and you flounder, unsure how to fix this, if this can be fixed. And then a look of determination crosses her face, “I’m going to help.”

“Are you?” You ask, bemused.

Omega steps around you and knocks on the door, loudly.

“They’re not going to believe you, kid.” You note as you take to the air again, folding your legs once more.

“I’ll make them.” Omega replies just before the door opens. Crosshair looks out the door, looking right through you, and then he glances down at Omega.

“...what?”

Omega lifts her chin, “I’m looking for Echo.”

Crosshair raises both of his brows, and then he turns to the side, “Echo, there’s a kid-hey!” He stares at Omega as she pushes into the room, and you, laughing quietly, trail after her.

“Um…which one is Echo?” Omega asks you, seemingly uncaring for the bemused, and bewildered, looks that were being aimed at her.

“The one with the prosthetics.” You say, amused, “They’re going to think you’re crazy, Omega.”

She frowns at you, and then turns to look at Echo, “But I’m not.”

“I know that, you know that. But ghosts aren’t supposed to be real, kid.”

“Then tell me something that will make them believe me.” Omega counters.

“Uh…kid? Who are you talking to?” Hunter asks slowly.

Omega says your name and you watch as Echo jerks, and something pained crosses his face. “She’s dead, you can’t be talking to her.” He says bluntly, and you’d almost believe that he didn’t care based on his tone, but there’s something so heartbroken on his face that your heart lurches painfully.

Omega stares at him for a moment, and then she points at you, “She’s right there. She says that she’s been following you for a while.”

Echo glances at you, or, well, at the spot where Omega says that you are, and the look of pain on his face only becomes more pronounced, “That’s…cruel, kid.”

“No, I-” Omega turns her gaze to you, “Help?”

You hesitate, and then you float over to Echo and lightly reach out, as if to touch him, though you stop before you actually manage it. “Tell him…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to break my promise.”

Omega dutifully gives him your message, and Echo jerks in surprise.

“She’s…actually here?”

“Right in front of you. She’s crying.”

You laugh through your tears, “Don’t tell him that-”

“Sorry.” Omega says sheepishly, “She didn’t want me to tell you that.”

“Why can’t I see her? Or feel her?”

“I don’t think anyone can.” Omega says thoughtfully, “She said that I’m the first person to see her since she died.”

For a moment, Echo looks wrecked. But then, he knows better than anyone how much you hate being alone.

You pull away from Echo, and return to Omega’s side, kneeling so that you’re closer to eye level with her, “Omega. I need you to pass on a message, exactly as I say it. Can you do that?”

She turns to look at you, “I can do that.”

“Good. Good girl.” You breathe out, and then you start speaking.

You tell Echo, though Omega, about Fives. About what he learned, about what got him killed. Omega is shaking by the time you finish talking, horror and fear on her face.

“We need proof,” Echo says quietly, “Cyare, please tell me you have proof.”

Omega, her hands shaking, gives him your answer, “She says that the proof is in your heads.”

“Then we need to do something about this.” Hunter says, “Omega, can you be the go between for us and the ghost doctor?”

“Ghost doctor?” You repeat under your breath.

“You…believe me?” Omega asks, her eyes wide.

“It does explain why Echo always smells a little bit like ozone.” Hunter says with a shrug, “Come on, let’s get to the bottom of this.”

Half an hour later, Echo is hacking into a computer terminal when he stumbles on a file with your name on it. The file is a very detailed description of the attack on the Resolute, the attack that you thought killed you.

Turns out, Ventress didn’t kill you.

She used an ancient force ability to separate your soul from your body. According to the notes, you were meant to be bound to Ventress, as a weapon to be used against the Republic, only instead of being bound to Ventress, you ended up bound to Fives, and then Echo.

Your body is located on a small asteroid in wild space, kept in a deep coma to keep your soul wandering. Tech quickly makes note of the location, and then they go back to work at dealing with the chips.

A single line of code added to the chips software by Tech, as well as a forced update to thc chips, meant that Order 66 could never be activated by anyone. And if someone managed it, the new order was to protect all jedi, rather than kill them.

It would give the Jedi time enough to survive, if nothing else.

Then the Batch flees Kamino, with Omega. Intent on going to claim their doctor’s body, and then head to the Jedi temple in the hopes that they’ll be able to put you back in your body.

You and Echo will get your happy ending, you just have to fight for it.

And, really, isn’t that the case with all happy endings?

#star wars #tbb #star wars au #vodika vibes 650 event #tbb echo x reader #echo x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks

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dilemmaontwolegs · 1 year

Text

Running From The Flames {Epilogue 1/2}

Pairing: Pierre Gasly x OFC Warnings: parenting - that should be a warning lmao, sexual themes

F1 Masterlist || Previous Chapter - Epilogue 2/2

There was only one word to describe my life and that word was: chaotic. That being said, I still wouldn’t change it for the world.

The family calendar on the fridge was completely full and colour coded so we could all see where we were needed on any given day. Even so, I still lost track of my husband or our kids at least once a week.

“Sydney, honey, have you seen your father?” I asked the spitting image of Pierre who was in the race simulator. He was always in the machine, practising for his upcoming debut into Formula 4 now that he had turned 15 and could move up from karting.

“Picking up Addie from the airport.” He barely looked away from the triplet of screens in front of him as he answered with all the attitude of a teenage boy being interrupted in life. “It’s on the fridge.”

I looked at the calendar and realised I was looking at the completely wrong day. “Shit.”

“Ha,” he laughed loudly as he navigated the virtual track of the Red Bull Ring. “You forgot.”

“I didn’t forget,” I said as I scanned over the correct day and saw I had a board meeting to prepare for tomorrow. “I just thought it was Tuesday today.”

“Whatever you say, maman. You can tell me I’m your favourite, I won’t say anything.”

“I don’t have a favourite, I love you all equally. Now, can you finish that game and go do your homework? You still need to pack your bag for the weekend too.”

Addie was coming home from London for the week, taking a little break from her own busy schedule, to watch Sydney’s first race with us in Austria.

It had been difficult to let her leave home at 18 but she had worked hard to get a place in the Arsenal Women’s Under 21 team. I had left home at the same age and Pierre had left even earlier, so we were hardly the exemplary figures to deny her. All we could do was make sure she stayed safe and she knew she could call either of us 24/7 if she needed help. It was also never that long between visits, making plenty of stopovers in England as we travelled.

The travelling for work was tiresome but so far we had yet to miss a football match on Saturday or a karting race on Sunday. It did help being our own bosses so Pierre and I could manage our schedule around the kids. He had been running Strauss Fashion for the better part of the last ten years, after Granny finally retired properly, while I had been the Chief Technical Officer at Alpine, which Grandpa had purchased.

When Harry passed away three years ago I found myself suddenly thrust into the ownership of the team and though there were plenty of offers to sell it, I decided to take the leap of faith and see where the journey would take me. I hadn’t looked back and so far we had two Constructors' Championship wins with our seasoned pilots, Gabriele Minì and Oliver Bearman.

We had come so far, it was hard to believe until I saw the wisps of grey hairs among the dark strands.

“Maman!” I was pulled from my reminiscence and looked at my watch to realise how quickly the afternoon had gotten away from me as Clare bounded through the front door and leapt into my arms. “Maman, look!”

Clare had been a wonderful surprise that completed our family two years ago. After Sydney’s unexpected and frightening early arrival Pierre had been reluctant to try for another child, though he had always wanted three. I thought maybe he would change his mind after the terrifying memory faded with time but then a few years passed, we both got caught up in work, and after that it seemed too hard to imagine returning to sleepless nights with a newborn.

But, the universe had other plans for us. What I thought was a long-enduring hangover, after celebrating the rebranding of Alpine into Gasly Racing, actually turned out to be morning sickness. Those final weeks before her birth were stressful enough to send Pierre to his doctor for a vasectomy but thankfully her arrival went exactly to plan and he could breathe calmly once again.

“Hello my Clare-bear, wow, you have another bracelet.” You quirked an eyebrow at Charles as he arrived with Clare’s backpack on his shoulder and her spare carseat under his arm. “Uncle Charles has absolutely spoiled you.”

“Of course. A princess deserves it,” he stated proudly as he placed her belongings down and nodded his head to the simulator. “Is he all ready for the big day?”

“He is, I’m not sure I am,” I admitted as I put Clare down and she immediately went to interrupt Sydney by climbing onto his lap mid-race. If it was anyone else they would have received an earful but he just paused the game and listened as she told him all about her day at Uncle Charles’ house. “God help me when he gets to Formula One, I think I’ll have to revert the car back to a slower predecessor for my own sanity.”

Charles laughed but I wasn’t completely joking. The cars were so much faster than they were when he and PIerre raced. Though the safety features improved along with the technology that made them rockets on wheels it was still difficult to imagine putting my little boy inside one and sending it off.

“You could keep him as a reserve driver,” Charles offered before shaking his head at the thought and taking a seat at the kitchen island. “But he’s stubborn like his father, he’d just find another team to race for.”

“No way, I can at least trust my own team to keep him safe. Same goes for Marc.”

Charles chuckled at the mention of his son who at 8 years old he was already a junior karting champion. “He said someone called him Il Predestinato after his race last weekend.”

“Yikes, I’m sure they meant it in a good way.”

The front door opened again and Addie blew in with all the gusto of a tornado, whipping around the rooms to greet everyone before she was up the stairs to her old room. Entering a little more sedately was my husband, his arms laden with more suitcases than anyone needed for a week away, especially when she still had a wardrobe full of clothes upstairs.

“You are lucky you only have sons,” Pierre said to Charles as he kicked the door closed behind him. “I don’t work out enough anymore to be carrying this shit.”

He dropped the suitcases in front of the elevator and hit the call button rather than carrying them up the stairs before pushing them inside as the door opened. After a few bad winters, where not even the central heating could keep the aches of my bones at bay, Pierre had made the call for the elevator to be installed and it had been a godsend in moments like this when heavy items needed to make it to the floors above.

Sticking his head up the staircase he called out, “Addie, your entire life and everything but the kitchen sink is heading your way.”

“Thanks, dad!”

“What was that about?” I asked after he joined us in the kitchen while the coffee machine churned out our usual drinks. “I thought she outgrew the ‘I’m too cool to hangout with my parents’ phase.”

Pierre's lips pressed together and he took a seat next to Charles, picking up Clare who had left Sydney to return to his practice. “Elias.”

“Vettel?” Charles asked, his eyebrows lifting when Pierre nodded and pushed his mug away so Clare couldn’t reach the hot liquid.

“They have been out on a few dates, apparently. I’ll have to ask Davis about it, assuming he went with them, it’s not like it’s his job or anything. Did you know that?”

I shook my head at the news, cradling my mug in my hands as I leaned against the bench and wondered if she had ditched her bodyguard once again. “He’s a sweet boy from what I remember, much like his father.”

“I don’t like it. I don’t care who his dad is,” Pierre grumbled before repeating, “You are so lucky you only have sons, mate. Teenage girls are stressful.”

“Ah, but I have two boys who think it is funny to have a competition to see who can fart the loudest,” Charles said as he took a sip of his drink.

“I mean, that’s kind of funny,” Pierre said with a smirk.

Charles sighed deeply and rubbed his forehead. “Not when one always pushes too hard to win.”

The sip I was taking went the wrong way and I spluttered as Pierre laughed, “It’s all shits and giggles, until someone giggles and shits.”

“To think my poor mother went through this too. Drives me insane, mate. Bet you’ve never had to worry about that?”

“Thankfully, no,” I answered after recovering from choking on coffee. “But it also wasn’t bad enough to stop you from having another.”

“And on that note, I should get going. Mia won’t let me back in the house if I don’t pick up her favourite carbonara on the way home.” He smiled as he thought of his wife’s pregnancy cravings. It was the same one she had when she was carrying Marc and Antonio so it came as no surprise at the gender reveal when the backyard was splattered with blue confetti. “Thank you for letting me borrow Clare.”

“Any time,” Pierre chuckled as he clapped his friend on the back. Charles had been busy reinstalling all the baby gates and safety locks in his home, despite the baby boy not even being born yet, and wanted a toddler to help test his craftsmanship. “I won’t complain about a little free babysitting.”

Charles placed his empty mug in the sink and before kissing the top of Clare’s thick wavy hair. “Bye petite chérie, I’ll see you on Sunday.”

“Bye Uncle Charles,” she said with a wave, but it sounded more like Unk Cha and made him laugh as he approached the simulator.

I saw Sydney pause the race and Charles crouched down beside him, sharing a few quiet words of encouragement for the upcoming debut race. I couldn’t help feeling incredibly lucky to be surrounded by so many supportive people and my smile grew as a pair of arms wrapped around my waist.

I turned to meet his lips over my shoulder and the magnetism that attracted us was still evident even after 17 years. Of course, like any relationship, there had been times when stress led to arguments and I would find him hours later in a spare bed, wide awake because he couldn’t sleep without me beside him. Those fights never lasted long enough to even remember what they were about and forgiveness came easy.

I turned in my husband’s arms and draped mine around his neck to admire him. Pierre was truly like a fine wine. Age had made him even more handsome and the small wrinkles at the corners of his lips and eyes were a testament to a life that was full of smiles and laughter.

“Addie said she’ll watch the kids tonight,” Pierre whispered in my ear as he gently swayed to the melodic tune of his voice and I hummed with contentment. “And I got us a table at L'Ambroisie. You’ve been working so hard I thought we could do with a night away, just the two of us.”

“You think I don’t know your game, baby,” I whispered back, all too aware Charles was still chatting with Sydney and imparting some real world advice. “Wine and dine, pretty words, a hotel room. There’s only one thing you want.”

His lips curled into a smile against my cheek. “You know me too well.”

“You would actually get a full night’s sleep if you put your foot down.”

Pierre looked over at Clare who had helped herself to a banana from the fruit bowl and as if sensing she had been caught she looked up with an innocent smile. “How can I tell her no when she looks like that?”

“Mhmm, and that’s why she keeps climbing into our bed. You are a big softy.”

His smirk was flirty and fun as his arms tightened around me, pulling our bodies flush together. His breath was hot on my neck as he hid his face in the curtain of my hair. “Not tonight, ma femme. Tonight you will see just how hard I can be.”

Pierre backed up with a smirk but not before he sucked at the sensitive skin above my racing pulse. He knew exactly what he was doing and the smugness showed as he whistled a little tune on his way to help Clare peel the banana.

Shaking my head, I made my way to the stairs and said goodbye to Charles with the message to remind Mia that our plans for a spa day had been booked - but that didn’t mean he could slack off from the ankle massages he was giving her each night. He gave an amused salut but I didn’t see it as I pressed the button for the elevator. He was well used to the reminders by now, it wasn’t his first rodeo.

Knowing my evening plans had changed I went to my office and shut the door to silence the music drifting down the hall from Addie’s room. As CEO of Gasly Racing there was an endless stream of paperwork to be checked and signed, especially with the new expansion plan for the factory about to break ground. On top of that were the invites to attend fundraisers or speeches to prepare for the various charities I was ambassador for such as Women's Refuge.

When I finally emerged with my inbox up to date I could hear the laughter of all my children from where they lounged in front of the tv and the sound never ceased to make me smile. I had missed the sound since Addie moved out because it was rare to have all five of us here at the same time and I was reluctant to leave even for just one night when it came time to pack an overnight bag.

“We are allowed one night away, mon amour,” Pierre said as he stepped into the master bedroom to see me hesitating to step inside the wardrobe. “You and me, no interruptions.”

I relaxed into his embrace and sighed as he brushed my hair over one shoulder before kissing my collar. “And what were you planning that was so important it couldn’t be interrupted?”

His chuckle sent a shiver of delight down my spine and his fingers trailed down my ribs to the hem of my shirt before they slipped underneath the material to caress the soft skin over my stomach. I had to take a shaky breath when his thumbs caught the waistband of my skirt and I held it as I waited for them to hook underneath.

His lips brushed the shell of my ear and my lips parted in anticipation of his dirty words. “To sleep.”

“Huh?” I blinked twice, peeking over my shoulder to see his green eyes sparkling with amusement.

“To sleep. Why, what were you thinking?” He tried to look innocent but when he drew his bottom lip between his teeth and his hand slipped down beneath my skirt he let the truth show. “Did you want me to tell you how I am dying for a taste of you? How I can’t wait to have these sexy legs wrapped around me when I make love to you tonight? I don’t need to tell you, baby, I’ll show you.”

I knew he could feel how damp my panties were for him from the smirk on his face and I almost whimpered when he withdrew his hand from where I needed it. “Now pack your bag, and make it quick, I’m absolutely ravenous.”

I bit my lip at the depth of his tone and knew exactly what it was he was dying to taste. I didn’t even look at what I was packing, tossing the first items that touched my hands before he stopped me and grabbed one dress instead.

“This one,” he said as he held a colourful sundress that I rarely wore anymore, a soft smile warming his eyes. “It’s my favourite.”

Click here for the final chapter. 🥺

Tagging: @my-only-way-tocooperatewithlife @prrttysposts @alwaysclassyeagle @dr3lover @adalynneva

#pierre gasly x poc!oc #pierre gasly x oc #pierre gasly fanfic #pierre gasly imagine #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 rpf #formula 1 fanfic #formula one imagine #running from the flames

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whumpzone · 8 months

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Linden & Colton - Guard Dog AU #2

(masterpost)

CW: pet whump, dehumanisation

The walk to the bus stop was nicely cool. The trees were turning crisp and orange, whispering to one another every time the wind blew through them. Linden had his thin coat on, a chequered brown which reached his upper thighs, and every time he pulled it out from its long summer retirement he found some long-forgotten memento in its pockets; a piece of seaglass, or a train ticket, or a business card for a taxi company on the other side of the country. Col’s shoulders didn’t fit into any of Linden’s coats, so he was instead in a cable knit jumper and a scarf.

“It’ll just be a quick trip into town, but I think it’ll be good to get out. I’m going to get you some weights so you can work out at home.”

Col’s serious expression faltered a little with surprise. “Really, Sir, that’s not necessary. I can train with anything.”

“Think of it as a nice treat, then.”

“Yes, Sir, thank you. How can I pay you back?”

Linden gave him a smile. “By carrying them instead of me.”

They stopped and waited at the bus stop, the only two people there. Linden knew that Col hadn’t walked very far recently, and he didn’t want to put too much strain on his legs; they were streaked with scar tissue which sometimes caught the light and shone against the rest of his skin, which was in some places puffy and red, and in other places crossed with thin cuts which had turned a pale lilac.

Col nodded. He always did so very quickly, often before Linden had even finished speaking. He had a strong suspicion that Col would get into terrible trouble if his old owner thought he wasn’t paying attention, and with the way he’d occasionally seen Col stare into nothingness, perhaps this had happened a lot.

“It’s always busy, though, so we might need to sit separately. Is that okay with you, Col?”

He was relieved when Col paused, seeming to genuinely consider this. “Yes, Sir. That’s fine.”

“If we do, you can take the seat further to the back. That way you can still see me. You’ll know that I’m alright, and you’ll be able to see when to get off.”

Linden cringed at sounding so self-important, but he knew it would be the first thing on Col’s mind. If this had reassured him at all, it didn’t show on his face.

. . .

It’s not like I have a choice, thought Col. Other guard dogs, ones that were bigger and better and more trusted, would bark at someone to move, to let him sit by his Master. My place is at my Master’s side, he repeated in his head without fully thinking about it. The mantra was so old it came naturally now. But Col wasn’t good enough. Not even close.

The bus rolled to a stop (after Col had flinched when Master put his arm out to hail it) and it was clear they would indeed have to split up. He found a seat towards the back as he’d hoped, and watched as Master flashed him a smile from up ahead.

They made more stops than he’d anticipated, the geography of the bus changing each time, taking on parents pushing prams and letting off elderly women with dogs, until Col’s neighbour had motioned for him to let them get past and he had stood, ducking his head, watching them leave to make sure they didn’t do anything alarming near his Master. He moved to take the window seat.

This left Col with a space beside him, and his instincts told him to have his Master fill that space. But how? Col, who was still a new purchase and needed to prove himself, suddenly sagged under his self-doubt. He’d have to call out for him, or get up and go over, both of which would cause a scene. He’d be telling him what to do. He’d be assuming that Master even wanted to be sat next to him – maybe it was a welcome break, and Col was expected to keep him safe from this distance. Maybe trying to close the gap between them would seem weak.

It still mystified him that humans hurt one another when pets existed, but it wasn’t for him to question. He wasn’t so naïve as to have forgotten about revenge, old grudges, power trips, terrorism, self-defence. And no one cared if their pet was killed. A lover or a friend would need to be sacrificed to really cause some grief.

He realised, stomach suddenly dropping, that if Master’s brother came to any harm, Col would have failed in his duties, would have failed to protect his owner. How could I guard Vik, too? he wondered. He’d have to find out where Vik lived, and familiarise himself with his entire neighbourhood, but he could hardly drag his owner along for this, so where would he get the opportunity? How would he ever be trusted after he had attacked him, anyway? Col felt stupid for even considering it. Master would probably judge that the biggest threat to Vik right now was his own pet.

He hadn’t realised how deeply he was considering this until a voice from the real world brought him back to the surface.

“Am I alright to sit here?” asked a young woman stood above him, and Col allowed himself just one second to realise that she meant the seat beside him, and more, that she was speaking to him directly.

I asked you a question, his old owner said, so clear and commanding he could have been just behind him, and if you’re not gagged then I expect an answer.

Except he wasn’t collared, or leashed, or gagged, and he wasn’t with his Master, and she wasn’t asking him to perform any of his normal duties as a pet. She didn’t know what he was, Col realised, giddy and scared at the same time.

He nodded, not meeting her eye, and forced himself to speak. “Y-Yes, of course.”

“Thanks,” she replied pleasantly, and sat, pulling her satchel flat onto her lap. Col tried not to stare as she opened it and slid a laptop out. He pulled his gaze away, but a sudden movement caught his eyes yet again and he couldn’t help but look. His lifetime of training meant he had to look.

Her laptop had a presentation on it, and with each slide the woman was gesturing, mouthing words silently. She was practising, Col realised. He suddenly felt himself so intrigued by this stranger’s life, just for a few seconds. This stranger who had spoken to him like a person. Was she a student? He didn’t dare read the words, he wouldn’t stare that brazenly, but he could see the unmistakeable shapes that only graphs made. A few rows in front of them both, Col’s Master sat safely, undisturbed. It was fine. Col hadn’t messed up by looking.

This woman was going somewhere, with her normal human life, and it was as if a light switch had been flicked, the way Col became unbearably aware that every single person around him had a normal life of their own, too. Where were they all going? What were they thinking about? The bus was rattling down widening suburban streets. Each house would have an occupant, maybe even a whole family, or a couple. Were they happy? How many pets were there?

His fingers curled involuntarily as his training kicked in – any stretch of being lost in thought inevitably ended badly. Col blinked, again, again, as he heard his old owner screaming at him.

You will LISTEN when you are spoken to, you slave, you useless piece of junk, you fucking dog. Pets do not have ‘thoughts’. You do not think unless it’s to follow orders. Do you fucking hear me this time?

Yes, Master, Col thought, stamping out any more daydreaming. He fixed his eyes on the back of his current Master’s head and kept them there.

Eventually, Master stood up, turning to Col just briefly to catch his eye, and the two stepped off.

“Was that alright, Col?” Master asked when they were both standing on the pavement, watching the bus rejoin the flow of traffic.

“Yes, Sir,” he said, thinking of nothing but his Master’s face before him.

. . .

As the pair walked through town, Linden noticed the space between them shrinking, until Col was almost pressed against his left shoulder.

“Hey,” he said, softly, and Col’s eyes darted to his. Nothing else changed, and Linden found it somewhat unnerving. Like a ventriloquist’s dummy. “Did you used to go out, much?”

“No, Sir. The pub, or the racecourse, sometimes. I usually stayed in my cage.”

“But I thought you were a guard dog,” Linden said, his heart sinking when he saw the look on Col’s face. Okay, shouldn’t have said that.

“I am, Sir, I am. You can- you can trust me. I swear I’ll keep you safe. My old owner just… just had to get me trained, first. But I am trained, now.”

“Of course you are,” he said, feeling gross. “I know you’ll keep me safe.”

“Anything, Sir. I’ll do anything.”

“I know,” he said, trying to sound decisive. “I’m not going to get rid of you, I hope you can understand that.”

Col just nodded, but Linden felt like he had to ask this now, rather than let it fester.

“You were caged?”

Funnily enough, this didn’t seem to upset Col in the way he’d feared it might. Linden could almost describe the look Col gave him as quizzical.

“Yes, Sir. I’m just a dog. But-! But I’m so grateful, so grateful for my- the bed, and the room. It’s very generous, Sir.”

“You’re welcome. I don’t own a cage and I’m not going to buy one. There’s no chance of that in my house.”

It wasn’t too busy in town, which was ideal. Their bus was always rammed, running through the main arteries of the district, but the hospital and the train station was where it spat out most of its cargo. It was term time, midweek, midday. Linden watched two cyclists wave to one another as they passed by. Turning to Col, he saw him looking at pigeons on a fence, one pruning the other.

“Aw,” Linden said, making Col flinch.

“S-Sorry, Sir. I’m paying attention.”

“I know. You can look. Oh, here, do you see that dog? He always sits in the window up there.”

Linden pointed past Colton’s face to a brindle whippet, which was curled up on a strategically placed dog bed, keeping an eye on the passers-by. “People call him Nosy Nigel.”

Linden wasn’t expecting a reply and he didn’t get one. Col nodded, then turned back to face the road.

The curve of the hill had flattened during their ride, and this too would be easier for Col’s legs.

“If walking becomes painful, you need to tell me,” Linden instructed him. “So we can go back home.”

“I won’t let you down like that, Sir,” Col replied, keeping his voice neutral.

“It wouldn’t let me down,” he said, a little firmer. “I don’t want you to be in pain. Can you promise?”

“Yes, Sir. I promise.”

Now it was Linden’s turn to be quiet, and as they walked on, he thought he saw Col glancing at him, his eyebrows drawn tightly together.

Fifteen minutes later they were heading through the centre of town and Col had the boxed dumbbells held fast under one arm. Linden had made Col wait by the door to the sports shop when he paid, so Col wouldn’t be able to hear the price. They were hardly expensive, but he didn’t want Col to have it hanging over him. As they left, Linden didn’t think he’d been thanked so many times in his life.

“We could get a coffee, if you fancy it,” Linden said, knowing they were about to pass his favourite cafe in town.

“Yes, Sir, you should get whatever you like.”

“Would you like one?”

“I should keep one arm free, Sir, if that’s okay.”

Linden hummed an acknowledgement. That was good, he told himself. Col had told him what would make him most comfortable. He wondered what threats, if any, Col was picking out from their unremarkable walk around town. The cafe faced a small town square, in the centre of which was a once-grand statue of a general or soldier of some sort, with a traffic cone balanced on his head. Beyond him was a bakery, a newsagents, a chippy, a Polish grocer’s, in a neat row with houses on their second floors. It was normal - it was home.

Their pace had slowed since they started out, and Linden decided to call it a day - he was well aware that Col would never admit if his legs were hurting. They’d done well - he got what he came for and Col hadn’t lashed out or scared anyone.

“You know what… let’s head on home. We’ll both be able to have a hot drink in peace. Yeah?”

“Yes, Sir.”

. . .

Col grit his teeth, feeling his jaw pulse, forcing himself to ignore the ache steadily growing in his feet. The pain shot up his legs with each step. It felt like there were screws in his ankles, driven in good and deep, and even the smallest movement made them reverberate off his bones like a church bell. How could he stay alert? How could he be ready for anything, any threat, checking every angle and street and person they walked past? His head was spinning with the responsibility.

His foot came down hard. It took everything not to gasp in pain; he was aware he was slowing down, and the clock was ticking before Master noticed what a defective nothing he’d accidentally bought.

I told you to admit it when your legs hurt, Colton heard Master say, his soft voice finally cracking in frustration. You thought you could hide it? That you’d carry on like this, trying to fool me, forever?

Hurry the fuck up. I’ll decide what to do with you at home.

Col saw possibilities playing in his mind like the young woman’s presentation. Each new slide carried a new, and equally likely, outcome once Master got fed up with him. The cage, the darkness, the whip, being thrown out entirely. The worst scenarios always ended with him alone and scared.

He came back to reality with his heart pounding. What had made him resurface? He looked over at his Master and saw that they’d come to a stop. Master was staring at something just behind Col’s head, squinting.

“Oi, oi!” Col heard a familiar voice shout.

“I knew it was you!” Master replied, patting Col on the shoulder gently and indicating for him to turn around.

Vik stopped his car in front of them, leaning out of his window with a smile. “Hey, guys. You alright? Done a tour of the town?”

“Yeah, just bought some weights,” Master replied, returning Vik’s casual wave. Col was frozen by his side, trying to find a neutral spot to cast his eyes. The last thing he wanted to do with aggravate Vik.

“Oh, great stuff! I assume they’re for you, Col?”

“Uh, y-yeah,” Col stammered, not expecting to be addressed directly. Wouldn’t Vik be sick at the sight of him?

“We’re just heading to get the bus back,” Master explained. Vik scoffed.

“I’ll give you a lift.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’ve got time. Col, you sit in the back, it’s cleaner back there.”

Col could see that the front passenger seat was host to a lanyard, an empty crisp packet, a phone charger and an unopened packet of socks. Master was already pulling open the door and laughing at the mess, which Vik breezily said he could push into the footwell. Col opened the back door and slid inside.

“You’re going to lose all this stuff. It’ll go under the seat and you’ll never find it again.”

“I won’t, I’ve got a very complex system of storage going here. You wouldn’t understand it.”

“Where are you going, anyway?”

“Just the gym. Sounds like you’re gonna have a home gym set up pretty soon.”

“Oh yeah, premium spot. Hundred quid a month. I’ll be your personal trainer.”

“Ha! You’d be the worst personal trainer ever. You’d probably lie down on the bench and fall asleep.”

“You look like you’ve been sleeping in the gym, look at those flimsy arms. For shame.”

Vik laughed, hard, and Master laughed back. It was a sound Col didn’t hear very much, and he let himself enjoy it.

The drive back to Master’s house really was incredibly short - Col reflected on the fact that Master probably only made them take the bus for Col’s sake, and cringed at the pure hatred he had for himself - and soon they were back inside, being welcomed in by Jaffa.

“Go and sit on the stairs to take your shoes off, Col, it’s easier.”

Col couldn’t disobey, and as much as he wanted to protest his strength, his legs were still in pain. He accepted the mercy with thanks. The day had been… fine. Col was okay. Master didn’t seem angry at him yet, and Vik had kindly ignored him, and Col was still owned. Maybe I can do this, he thought to himself foolishly. Just for a bit longer. Then when this all ends, I’ll be ready.

taglist part 1:

@newbornwhumperfly @whumpadump1939 @firewheeesky @whump-me-all-night-long @captain-seconds @grizzlie70 @unicornscotty @lave-whump @princessofonwardsworld @cupcakes-and-pain @bumbumbea @whumpfigure @yet-another-heathen @secretwhumplair @whumps-up @as-a-matter-of-whump @getyourwhumphere @itzagoodthing @whumpymirages @soapparentlyilikewhumpnow @the-monarch-whumperfly @penny-for-your-whump @legallylibra @angel-stars @loyds-of-registry @tears-and-lilies @badluck990 @rosesareviolentlyread @vickytokio @neuro-whump @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whumpsy-daisies @control-whump @theydy-cringeworthy @starnight-whump @cursedandtired @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @justabitofwhump @glamrockgregory @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @genesissane @justbreakonme @addyez @httyd-chocolate @littlespacecastle @haro-whumps @extrabitterbrain @neverthelass @downrivergirl914

#linden and colton #pet whump #wahooooooooooooooooo

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twst-drabbles · 7 months

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Azul and Jamil 1

Summary: Jamil wants to make a feast for no other reason other than he wants to spoil you, though he claims he simply feels like cooking. Azul joins in to help and bother him. Then, you accidentally cut your palm catching a knife.

(This one was fun. Loved writing the banter between Azul and Jamil.)

“You are not renovating my home, Azul,” you cut in, pointing your knife in his direction as his smile faltered, “I like it just the way it is. And stop trying to goad Jamil into this.”

“I’m nothing more than a humble assistant that’s not looking for trouble,” said Jamil, fully knowing what he’s saying is bullshit, “Besides, we’re not ‘friends’ as you like to say.”

When you put the knife down and continued to chop at the vegetables, only then did Azul put a hand over his heart, as though truly wounded. His tears were almost convincing, had you not known him for a while. And while you were all supposed to be cooking a feast.

“Do you really take me for someone so shallow? That I would go so far as to butter you up just to further my dream of opening a beautiful lounge complete with all the amenities that we have right here?”

By the end of that first half of his ramble, Azul finished washing the dirt off the vegetables. At least you don’t have to kick him out of the kitchen. Jamil’s tail started to rise behind Azul’s back, but a light tap of the blunt end of your knife got him to put it down. Jamil huffed but continued kneading the dough.

“Think of the money we could make! Think of all the things we can purchase and put into our rooms! And, most of all, think of what we could give to our precious caretaker here. Surely the concern I’ve been showing has to mean something to you.”

Honestly, it’s kind of endearing how hard he’s trying, mostly because it’s clear just how not used to making friends Azul is. A part of you wants to throw him a bone, but the bigger part of you knows that won’t go over well with Azul. Not in the sense that he won’t appreciate it, but that he won’t learn the social skills he needs.

The skills used to pull someone into giving a deal are not the same as the ones used to make a friend.

“It does mean something,” Oh? You turned your head towards Jamil as he paused in his kneading, “it means you’re irritating. Helpful, but irritating.”

“Oh I wouldn’t go so far as to say I’m ‘irritating,’ as you say,” And Azul took that in stride, “more, ‘annoying.’ And isn’t annoying your peers a part of friendship? Especially when they’re not being truthful about their pure intentions. ‘A feast because you felt like it?’ Surely it isn’t because you wanted to spoil the caretaker.”

Jamil hissed under his breath and you couldn’t help but laugh. “No. Not at all. This is all just a simple whim.”

Right, right. So says this tender naga.

You turn back to continue chopping. And just as you were getting back into the rhythm while the two besides you had their little back and forth, the knife’s handle, wet with all the moisture from the vegetables, slipped from your grasp. And, like any human with instincts built in their body, your hand reached out before you would think to just let it fall to the ground.

You grabbed the blade. It sliced deeply into your hand and all you could do was gasp and hiss through your teeth.

“Ow…” blood didn’t gush so much as it flowed down like a horribly leaking faucet, “Oh no. Oh that’s pretty bad.”

Okay, no worries. Just put pressure on the wound with something.

“Uh, does anyone have a clean towel–” You looked up only to find Jamil completely blocking your view. His eyes were wide, lip a tighter line than it already was. Jamil’s tail, once behind him, was now brushing against your legs.

He didn’t say anything, only gently guided you to sit down with his flour covered hands. They were shaking.

“Azul,” he turned, almost sounding angry from his growing impatience, “the first aid kit is in the closet, by the door.”

“A-ah,” Azul, when you could finally see him, was frozen before Jamil’s words jolted back into being. Eyes once sparkling in their confidence now dimmed in a fog of confusion and fear, “the closet. It’s in the closet. I’ll… I’ll get it.”

His small voice didn’t suit the rush in his step.

“Just,” Jamil couldn’t grab your hands, not when they were dirty, but helped you press more firmly against the wound, “keep pressing.”

“I know, I know,” you did as said, “hey, can you get me my phone? I got to call Crowley so he can take me to a doctor.”

Why did you have to grab that knife? Now the feast’s going to be put off.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst-drabbles #ask #drabble #octavinelle #azul #azul ashengrotto #scarabia #jamil #jamil viper #sanctuary au #reader insert

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amethysts-tavern · 7 months

Text

Travel day. Too many hours sitting still so, I wrote.

Gale x gn-bard!Tav.

Warnings: serious injury and potential death.

______

Our story isn’t over.

Since starting your relationship, your battle strategy has been to place yourself not far from Gale. In fact, you’re usually fighting side by side, never more than a healing word from the other.

You’d taken down a number of minions already today, but still, the battle for the Shadowlands raged on. You cast a high level dissonant whisper at Ketheric Thorm, transformed now into the massive Apostle of Myrkul, when out of the corner of your eye you see a spell hit your companion, your love, square in the chest, dark magic exploding around him, enveloping his body in a green-black haze. You hear him scream in anguish and breathlessly call out to you just before he falls, his expression a mixture of shock and pain. For a brief moment, your world caves in on you. Your eyes, wide with panic, fixate on Gale’s now lifeless body.

You feel the electricity of magic whiz past your head and you turn to see where it came from. “I got him; you get Gale,” Karlach says rushing past you. She has bought you some time. Just a few seconds is all you need.

You turn to run toward your beloved, heart racing faster than it has in recent memory. He’ll be okay. I just have to get to him. He’ll be okay. You’re not sure if you’re trying to convince yourself or praying to any god who will listen.

One then the other, your feet pound the flagstones, propelling you forward, sweat and tears stinging your eyes as you sprint. Oh gods, this looks bad. It’s far worse than you expected: his face swollen; dark bruises forming on his skin; blood soaking his robes. Your breathing becomes ragged as fear rises within you and you fall at his side.

“Gale, I’m here. You’re going to be ok. I’m here,” you say, reaching for his hand. His eyelids flutter at the sound of your voice, too weak to open them. His hand is cold and clammy in yours, even though sweat wets his hair, strands clinging to his face. Blood pools underneath him, making the ground slick and red.

One hand still in his, you reach into your bag and wrap your fingers around a scroll of parchment. Gods, let this be the right one. There’s no time for errors now. You unfurl the parchment and sigh in relief. Looking around for a safe space to land, you begin reading the spell for dimension door. Just as your tongue wraps around the last few words of the spell, another blast of magic erupts to your left, about 15 feet away, blowing rock debris at you and Gale.

You cover his body with yours, as the world blurs and blinks around you. Suddenly, you and Gale are out of the fray, hopefully for long enough for you can tend to his wounds and get him back on his feet. You reposition yourself so that your back is to the battle, shielding any more incoming assaults from hitting the wizard who holds your heart.

You reach out to the Weave, trying to grasp any strands of healing magic you can. The flow is slow to trickle in, your allotment tapped for the day. This isn’t going to be enough. He needs more healing.

Once again, your free hand reaches into your bag, fingers searching for a healing potion. Anything that will help knit Gale’s body back together. Your heart beats relentlessly as your fingertips graze potion bottle after potion bottle, not finding what you need, what he needs.

“Hang in there love, I know it’s in here,” you say, your voice cracking. “We’re going to get through this. You’re not getting out of that promised dinner date in Waterdeep this easily,” you tease, an on going joke between you two.

Finally your fingers find purchase on the bottle you need. Please let this be enough. Please let him be okay. Let him be safe. Please. You gently curl your fingers under Gale’s neck. Any other moment in time, this movement, this touch, would have led to a tender kiss. Now, you smudge your thumb over his lips, nudging them open so you can pour the red liquid into him.

Seconds then moments pass. This is taking too long. Why is this taking so long? Your panic crescendos as your eyes study his features, burning them into your mind. Seeing him like this, so battered and weak, puts an ache in your chest far worse than any battle wound ever could. The tears that had been falling intermittently now become a torrent as you openly sob over your wizard love. This can’t be it. Not like this. Our story isn’t over.

The scene behind you becomes quiet, the silence deafening. The battle is over, the enemy slain at last. Karlach approaches behind you, closely followed by Astarion, both worse for wear, bloodied and bruised but still upright. It looks like it had been a brutal fight. Without words, both comb through their packs for any remaining healing potions or scrolls they can contribute. It takes two more superior healing potions before you feel Gale’s grip tighten around your fingers and his breathing become deeper.

“Gale!” you exhale. You hadn’t even noticed that you were holding your breath. “Gods! I…” but words are lost as you witness his eyes slowly open and a weak smile curl his lips. He chuckles then whimpers, his breath expanding his bruised ribs uncomfortably. “Don’t you think that you’ll get out of meeting Mother that easily either, my love.”

You bend over the wizard, gingerly scooping him up and wrapping your arms around him. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” you respond, burying your face into the crook of his neck. Your body relaxes as you hold your love. You’re unsure what tomorrow may bring, but today, for now, you are both safe.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale romance #bg3 gale #gale x reader

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edosianorchids901 · 5 months

Text

Drifting With Every Wind

Ace Omens Hugfest 2024 prompt - "smiling into a hug"

Athens, 450 BC

Aziraphale looked around anxiously, twisting his hands together. His heart beat far too quickly, and he couldn’t quite catch his breath. No matter what he did, he simply couldn’t calm down.

And all the worse because there was no clear reason for it. He was simply a nervous wreck, quite close to the verge of a panic attack.

He went for another walk around the agora, trying to steady himself by studying the wares for sale. Ordinarily, that would cheer him up immensely. He loved to see the latest imports, as well as the local goods, and he’d spent many a long day contemplating the scrolls of poetry for sale.

Today, not even the thought of new reading material cheered him. He briefly contemplated a nice snack, but not even oysters or yummy bread or grapes seemed appealing right now. His tummy churned at the mere though, queasiness rising, and he let out a shaky breath. No, no snacks, not unless he wanted to be sick in front of everyone.

The thought of that made him feel even worse. Oh Heavens, what if he really did throw up in front of everyone? They would all make fun of him, understandably so, and then he would cry, and then they would make fun of him even more—

“Aziraphale, are you okay? Sounds like you’re trying to win the Olympic sport for breathing too fast.”

Aziraphale’s breaths caught, which had the effect of making him suddenly quite dizzy. He whipped around anyway, towards the demon with a perpetual questioning expression. “Crawley! Oh, I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you!”

He flung himself into Crawley’s arms, hugging him tight. A smile broke out even as he squeezed his eyes shut against tears. Oh, it was so good to see someone he knew, someone who never made fun of him in earnest.

“Whoa! Uh, hi.” A little awkward, Crawley patted his back. “Glad I showed up when I did. You looked like you were freaking out pretty bad.”

“Don’t be silly. Angels don’t ‘freak out’.” A few tears escaped, and Aziraphale clung to Crawley as a wave of shivering rushed through him. “Admittedly, I-I was having a trace of anxiety.”

Oh. He likely shouldn’t be hugging Crawley for this long. It wasn’t something they did.

He let go and stepped back, quickly dashing away the tears with one hand. Crawley gave him another quizzical look. “Just a trace, eh?”

“Mhm.” Aziraphale touched a hand to his chest, and was rather annoyed to find himself trembling. Oh, really. This was ridiculous. “Whatever are you doing here, anyway?”

“Buying wine, to start.” Crawley looked around the agora. “I stopped in at a tavern in the Piraeus after my ship docked, but I need to get a jug or two to shove in my room. Wanna go shopping with me?”

“Oh, could I?” The thought eased a great deal of Aziraphale’s nervousness, and the pressure on his chest lessened. “That would be so lovely. I’m afraid I’ve been feeling a bit…”

He sighed. Oh, it was so hard to put into words, especially when he had absolutely no idea why he was so stressed.

Crawley just gave a little sympathetic pout and beckoned to him. “C’mon. We’ll go buy stuff, and you can help me carry it back to my place.”

Quite grateful, Aziraphale accompanied him. He rolled his eyes at Crawley’s rather bad attempts to barter with the vendors, sighed when Crawley got distracted from shopping by a need to sample his wine, and chuckled when a wandering goat attempted to eat Crawley’s sandal. It was quite a nice way to get his mind off his own worries.

“Right, okay. So.” As they veered down a narrow dusty street, Crawley passed him another jug of wine and opened the door to a little house. Aziraphale struggled to adjust without dropping anything. “I’m staying here for now. It’s not exactly the most terrific part of town, but it was cheap, and Hell’s been nitpicking my expense reports.”

“Ah, of course.” Aziraphale clutched at one of the jugs of wine, trying to steady it as it slipped from his grip. “But naturally, you had to purchase a vast quantity of— oh no!”

He lost his hold on the jug, and he could only watch in horror as it plummeted towards the street. Oh, and Crawley would be angry at him, and then Aziraphale would cry because Crawley was angry at him, and then—

“Whoops, my bad.” Crawley grabbed the jug before it could hit the ground. “You wanna come in and have a glass?”

Aziraphale stared at him, lip trembling. “You… you’re not angry with me for dropping it?”

“Wot? No? I’m the one who handed it to you without making sure you had a good hold on it.” Crawley shouldered inside and set the jug down, then took the other two that Aziraphale was still carrying. “Why would I be angry with you?”

“Because… because I always fail at everything?” Tears welled again, and Aziraphale suddenly found himself unable to breathe. “G-Gabriel said…”

“Ohhhhhh. Okay. I get it.” With a soft hiss, Crawley stepped closer and took Aziraphale’s arms in a surprisingly gentle grip. Aziraphale looked at him in confusion. “I’m not like the Archangels, Aziraphale. You don’t have to measure up to impossible standards or some shit, not when you’re with me. Okay?”

“Well, the… the Archangels are good, and just, and everything.” Aziraphale cleared his throat, trying not to see Crawley’s skeptical look. “But thank you. I, um. Admit that I get more than a trace anxious sometimes.”

“Yeah, I kinda got that.” Crawley gave a kind smile, then jerked his head towards a cushioned couch. “I sprang for the good couch. Come on. Let’s go sit.”

“Oh, um. Yes, that would be lovely. But…” Swallowing hard, Aziraphale searched the demon’s face. Crawley gave him an inquisitive look. “Could I by any chance hug you again?”

“Oh! Sure.” Looking slightly embarrassed at the prospect, Crawley opened his arms.

Aziraphale stepped into the embrace, closing his eyes. He smiled again as Crawley hugged him close, his heartbeat slowing. Here, with his friend, his anxiety eased until it really was only a trace.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #art #ace omens hugfest 2024

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redfoxwritesstuff · 1 month

Text

Sunflower, Book 1, Chapter 21 (for real this time)

Tom Hiddleston x OFC Series rated: M Chapter warnings: Drinking, mentions of a condom- wrap it before you tap it, even when you're shit faced drunk but remember kids, you can't technically consent irl when you're fucking wasted.

AN: I have edited the rest of the chapters for this thing. It is taking impressive self control to not dump the like 15 remaining chapters. Be proud of me. We've started outlining book two now here at Kit's Maddness.

Masterlist Kofi AO3

~~~~~<3

Tom made popcorn while he waited for Mia to change. Sure, there was a solid chance she’d come back and continue to give him the scolding that he knew, in hindsight, he deserved but he would make it up to her.

It was cheesy, he knew but he had blankets and drinks set out as the shower ran. Nothing strong enough to make them drowsy but hopefully wine would be enough to loosen her up and help conversation flow.

Candles were lit and the lights were all dimmed low. He was gambling, he knew that. He’d already fucked shit up once today. It seemed like gambling was what he was always going to do when he came to Vegas.

It wasn’t a card table or a slot machine he gambled at though, it was love. The prize was the biggest jackpot of all- more than he ever thought he needed.

“Oh, wow.” Mia’s eyes scanned the dim room as her towel dried hair dripped down her back.

She was not expecting something like this. Considering Tom was already in his tee and sweat pants, she expected something casual and low effort. Just existing in the same space, doing their own thing and being together.

This was certainly casual but far from low effort. Tom would have had to have the candles all over the apartment delivered though she wasn’t sure who or how he could manage that on such short notice. Had he been planning this for longer than she had thought? Mia didn’t know where the wine came from though. Could wine be delivered? Perhaps it was from the small store within the complex. She couldn’t be sure, she rarely purchased wine herself.

“Surprise?” Tom held his hand out to her. “Could I have the honor of taking you in on a date?”

“In on a date?” Mia was sure her brain had to already be shutting down for the night. His sentence made little sense.

“Well, we’re not going out on a date since we’re staying in. So, ‘in on a date’?” Oh, he thought he was cleaver. The smile on his face showed how proud of himself he was for coming up with that line.

“You’re such a dork.” Mia laughed as she gave him her hand.

She had gotten more comfortable with his light touches of affection at some point. When exactly it happened, she couldn’t begin to say. They were a part of having Tom near.

She struggled to initiate them herself but she was beginning to look forward to his slight touches. It was still overwhelming to know that he was so comfortable holding her hand, let alone how he would drape his arm around her waist or run his hand across her back as he moved around her. Hell, it was overwhelming just that he wanted to hold her hand.

But he was in it for the long haul. Or at least to see if the long haul was possible.

“You didn’t have to go through all this trouble.” There had never been a man in Mia’s life who would have gone through all this trouble just for her. The amount of time, effort and planning he had spent.

“We’ve got wine, popcorn and your choice of movie.” Tom said, leading her toward the couch.

Two of her throw blankets were draped on either side. She appreciated the thought. Tom didn’t assume that she would want to share blankets, cautious and respectful of her comfort.

He had his laptop hooked up to the TV, screen half open and Netflix waiting for them to make a selection. The binder full of her DVD’s was sitting on the table and he waited for her to provide direction.

“What if I want to watch something with you in it?” Mia teased.

“We’ll then you’re out of luck.” Tom laughed. “I’m not on Netflix.”

They picked older comedy off the Netflix catalogs. Something funny with a touch of romance. Tom didn’t seem to mind the lack of action and the romantic undertones, not issuing a single complaint much to Mia’s surprise.

Was that because he actually liked those kinds of movies or was it simply because it fit the mood he had set? She didn’t know.

It had been two and a half weeks since they had married. It had been a strange two and a half weeks. But they had come far in their relationship. She was comfortable thinking of him as a friend at the least. She could even see him as more than a friend but if she was asked to define what that meant, she couldn’t say.

This wasn’t the type of evening friends set up for eachother though. This was something more. It was romantic and special. This was more than friends.

They sat close together on the couch, thighs just touching and legs stretched out on the coffee table in front of them. The each had their own lap blanket and the popcorn bowl was balanced in Tom’s lap.

It was romantic and yet comfortable in the flickering light of the candles as midnight quickly approached. Mia had expected Tom to be on his phone, tending to whatever business he had to deal with on the other side of the ocean but he ignored every little ping and buzz that sounded from the device. His eyes hardly glanced to it when the screen would light up, balanced on the arm of the couch.

It was the dedicated attention that Mia appreciated most of all. She couldn’t remember the last time any man had given her his whole attention for such an extended period of time, especially when it wasn’t really needed. That, along with the effort made him so dangerously unlike any other man she had spent time with.

Mia eventually found herself sitting up straight, legs crisscrossed and popcorn bowl in her lap. It was nearing midnight and she needed to stay up at least another two hours but it was starting to get hard to keep her mind from floating away on the fog of sleep.

The romantic movie had been switched out for some horror thriller, nothing with a lot of gore but something to hopefully keep her awake. Mia liked scary but she did not like slasher bloody. It was something that was getting harder and harder to find as years went by.

Tom was less comfortable with this choice. He wasn’t a man she would have thought not to like a horror movie but he was full of surprises, wasn’t he?

She flinched into Tom, grabbing his arm at the latest jump scare. Swears fell from her lips as she tried to calm her heart. Being as tired as she was, it made her far easier to startle. The fact that they’d shared a few glasses of wine didn’t help.

Tom couldn’t help but laugh at her. “You picked this movie.”

“It’s keeping me awake, isn’t it?” Mia countered.

“We could watch something else?” Tom offered, leaning into her for a moment.

Mia glared at him as he lounged back, relaxed on the couch as if he belonged there. When she let go of his arm, he stretched it out along the back of the couch.

“Why, are you scared?” Mia teased.

“No, darling. That would be you.”

They continued the movie, each dedicated to seeing it through though both finding themselves jumping here and there. Eventually, Mia leaned into his side.

Tom didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure she even noticed as she began to relax into him. It felt like he was being cuddled by a wild animal, if he just breathed wrong perhaps he would scare her away.

The movie was reaching it’s climax. The jump scares were coming faster now and the next big one sent Mia’s face right into his chest to hide. Tom flinched from the scare as well, arm jerking down off the back of the couch and pushing her closer to him.

It was a weird natural reflex. What did his brain hope to accomplish by it? Hide behind her? Protect her?

“Okay, okay. I think that’s enough of that.” Mia had fistfuls of his cotton shirt clutched in her hands as she peeked at the TV.

“It’s just about over.” Tom rubbed her back. “We can make it.”

He had feared she would move away from him again as they returned to the movie but she didn’t. Instead, her head rested on his chest and her legs curled up under her. He didn’t mind at all that her knees were resting on his thighs.

It had been a long time since he had been cuddled on a couch while watching a movie. It was something simple but god, he hadn’t realized how badly he missed receiving such simple affections.

Sophia hadn’t been much for cuddling in the last few months of their relationship. She hadn’t been much for him at all, if he was honest. There had been no room left for affection after the smothering pressure of her career and his, the press and prying eyes.

It was with Mia he learned the appeal of dating someone outside of his world. He had always thought it was best to stay within his career for dating prospects but no, what he didn’t know he needed was something normal.

“We made it through!” Mia said, he head still resting on his chest.

Tom’s eyes flicked up to the screen where the credits had begun to roll. He had been stuck in his head and missed the last of the movie.

“Indeed we did.” He said, gazing down at her. “Is it late enough or do we need to pick another?”

Mia looked up at him, shifting her weight and pulling away slightly to do so. She was shocked to find his face right there, looking down at her. Their faces were so close, lit by the TV and the candles.

“I’m not sure.” It was hard to think. Looking into those blue eyes so close made her brain short circuit. “Thank you, Tom. This is nice.”

“This is nice.” He agreed, rubbing his hand down her back.

His lips were thin, something she wouldn’t usually find attractive in a man but they fit him in a way she couldn’t explain. Her eyes flicked between features, taking in how the different lights played over his high cheekbones and defined nose.

He was beautiful but not in a overly perfect way. Humanity was etched into his face and his actions. Sure, he could be a bit full of himself at times but he was always willing to make a joke at his own expense.

She wasn’t able to think about his cheekbones or eyes anymore though. Her brain wasn’t able to do much of anything at all when his soft lips brushed against hers..

It was careful and slight, evaluating her response. Pulling away for a short moment, he waited for her to push him away as his heart hammered in his chest. This wasn’t a hug or a hand holding but the moment seemed right.

When she failed to pull away, instead continued leaning into him, he kissed her again. There was less hesitation in this kiss. The contact between their lips was firm but not harsh.

She supported her weight with a hand on the couch cushion though her other hand still rested on his chest. Under her finger tips, his heart beat a million miles an hour.

Her lips moved against his, following his lead. As he leaned into her, he pulled her to him with the hand that had been rubbing her back. Shifting his weight, he turned to face her. His other hand cupped her cheek tenderly, long fingers curling around her jaw and into the hair below her ear.

Their first kiss, at least the first kiss that counted tasted like popcorn salt and butter.

~~~~~<3~~~~~<3~~~~~<3

Tom stood, shucking his towsers off his legs, doing his best not to fall over in the process. There was a champagne bottle sitting in a partially melted bucket of ice on the dresser. Grabbing it, he popped the top and scooped up the two long stemmed glasses next to it.

The hotel had provided the bottle as a gift for their marriage, likely arranged as soon as they booked the wedding chapel. Tom poured the glasses and set the bottle back down.

She had sat up while she waited for him. There was a blush on her cheeks as she greedily took in his naked form. That was a view he promised himself he would never forget regardless of how drunk he was.

Tom downed his glass shamelessly. He didn’t give her a chance to finish her glass as he crashed his lips into hers. She kissed him fiercely back, not sparing a thought to the liquid in her glass, spilling on her and the bed.

Tom had her on her back and the glass was long forgotten. His hands were on her. It felt like he was everywhere, she was surrounded by him. She was drowning in her need for him.

“Condom.” She struggled to have the breath to speak, trying to cling to some sort of sense through her need. “We need a condom.”

~~~~~<3

Tag List: @winterisakiller @alexakeyloveloki @jennyggggrrr @dangertoozmanykids101 @tilltheendwilliwrite @tinchentitri @wizardcherryblossom @kats72 @buttercupcookies-blog @violethaze @soulpiercing @evedia @princess-ofthe-pages

Leave me a note with your thoughts! Comments and reblogs both are loved. Pay attention to me? I'm a needy plant...

#tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x original character #tom hiddleston x original female character #tom hiddelson x reader #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston rpf

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bl4cktourmaline · 4 months

Text

🍙﹒星 — day 4 featuring tenma tsukasa

knock knock!

heres some mail!

ଘ(੭´꒳`)°* ੈ‧₊ 💌

⌨️ᶻᶻᶻ...nian-7 is typing... ♡

↻ᴹᵉˢˢᵃᵍᵉ ˡᵒᵃᵈᵉᵈ !

❝sooo.. i know i don't really know mango very well but seeing as tsukasa is on their favorite characters how about tsukasa for their birthday event for slot 4? <3 ❞

━━❝I love hearing your voice even when we are so far away from each other❞

You loved being somewhere different. The scenery was gorgeous, the food was amazing, and the new fashion? You were in love with all of it… The diversity in clothing styles, makeup styles, and hairstyles was everything you wanted to see.

You were glad to take the chance you’ve been dying for… But, something wasn’t right.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

You loved the rare quietness you got from time to time… But, being somewhere totally new with nobody was isolating.

Of course, there were other classmates, but they weren’t considerable as friends.

There were many friends back at home and it was never lonely. Hanging out with friends was awesome, but what was more awesome was being with him…

You sighed, reviewing the pictures you took on your camera on your laptop. ‘Who knew taking pictures all day was such an exhausting thing…’

As much as it was boring, it was also slightly entertaining to see where your day led you. Plus, you had many pictures to show your friends once you got home.

Call it unprepared, but you didn’t realize that you would need to purchase cellular internet for another country. So, you were offline for the next week until you could get the chance to make a plan.

Falling backward into the chair, you groan. “This sucks…”

Ring!

You jolted upwards, looking around the room. “What the hell?”

The noise was heard again, and it came from the hotel phone. You laughed softly before scooting the chair backward and stood up, walking towards the phone.

You pick the phone up and hold it to your ear. “Hello?”

“Ah- I finally got it!” The voice on the other end exclaimed.

Eyebrows furrowed, you tilt your head to the side slightly. Laughing awkwardly, “Who is this?”

“You don’t recognize the sound of my terrific and mighty voice, co-star!?”

…

“Tsukasa!”

“AHA! You guessed right, my amazing co-star! I can never get anything past you!.”

“Wait,” You paused. “How did you find my room’s number? I couldn’t even text anyone!”

It took a moment for Tsukasa to answer. “I asked your instructor what hotel you were staying at! The process was long but unimportant! What matters now is that we are speaking!”

You laughed at him with a small smile, sitting on the bed.

“Everybody has been missing you, my co-star!”

“Now?”

Even though you couldn’t see him, the smile on his face was screaming from the other end of the phone. “Of course! I wouldn’t dare lie to you!”

“Oh no, of course you wouldn’t.”

Tsukasa suddenly sighed. “I can’t believe you had forgotten the fact you had to buy a new plan when you left the country!”

“It slipped my mind…” You sighed, rubbing the side of your head. “I was busy planning everything else! I would have gotten the international plan for the time being if I remembered!”

“That’s why you should have a bright calendar like me!” He beamed. “Every shining star must have one, you know?”

“I’ll be sure to get a calendar once I’m home,” You smiled.

It was silent for a moment until Tsukasa mumbled something softly.

“Hm?”

“How is it there!?” He asked loudly, causing you to drag the phone away for a moment then back to your face.

“It’s honestly so nice here,” You explained. “It’s so beautiful. The sites are amazing and- I wish I could show you and everyone else. But- the culture here is fascinating! I had gotten the chance to speak to some locals and some traditional clothing stores and I’ve gotten a great chunk of history on some of the culture here! Oh and also- the food is so tasty!”

Tsukasa listened quietly with delight as you continuously spoke about the new place you had been staying at. He liked how much you loved the new place and how passionate you were about it…

“Sounds fun… We and our friends should all go to the shining future together!”

You laughed with a smile and nodded. “I think we should too- oh, but I have to go soon. I need to finish up some homework before tomorrow.”

“Oh. Of course! A light has to do their work to make sure they can truly become the shining stars they’re made to be! Just like me!”

“You get it.”

The silence came back. It felt like he had something to say but at the same time, not really… It was hard to tell…

“Co-star?”

You hummed a small tune in response.

“I love hearing your voice.”

You were silent, still smiling, before becoming confused. “Huh?”

“I truly love hearing your voice whenever I can,” He softly said, contrasting with how he usually spoke. “I love hearing your voice even when we are so far apart. It’s comforting to hear! Not as comforting as mine but-”

You burst into a small laughter before he could finish his sentence. “You’re so sweet, Tsukasa. I honestly feel the same about you… it’s pretty quiet and lonely without hearing your voice every so often,” You breathed out a laugh.

It was silent again but felt more complete. “I’m glad you feel the same way!” He laughed. “Nobody can get enough of the star! It’s an after-star effect!”

“What the heck is that?”

“The effect after seeing someone amazing on stage who was truly so amazing you want to see more of them!”

You laughed again with a fond laugh on your face.

…

“Well, I should let you get back to work now, huh co-star?”

“It’s probably for the best,” You shrugged. “Call me tomorrow around this time again. I’ll make sure to finish my work early so we can talk for longer.”

Tsukasa laughed. “Alright! Farewell, my amazing co-star! I shall speak to you tomorrow!”

“Goodbye Tsukasa.”

You put the phone down before pausing, just remembering the conversation then laughed. How much of a dork he was…

(っ'-')╮=͟͟͞͞💌 You receive a letter from Mango!

↻ᴹᵉˢˢᵃᵍᵉ ˡᵒᵃᵈᵉᵈ !

𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠. . .

i hardly write on this blog but i hope to change that soon TT i love writing for tsukasa he is so silly 🩷 HEHHE

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novorehere · 8 months

Text

Famished First-Time

Hello friends! This is an especially special post that I am very excited about, because the story you’re about to read was not written by myself. A friend who would like to remain anonymous submitted this amazing story to me and wanted me to post it to my blog for you all to enjoy. While they don’t have their own vore blog, I hope you can all enjoy and give them some praise and feedback! Words cannot describe how much I ADORE it, and I think you all will too no matter if you’re familiar with Obey Me or not <3

Enjoy!

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“Thank you!” Yuki, the lovely young cashier, smiled sweetly as Rayfa plunked down the appropriate amount of Grimm—plus a generous tip—onto the counter. “Come again!”

“You know I will!” Rayfa laughed, and the demon chick behind the counter laughed too. They had become fast friends—what with Rayfa being a proud regular and all—and Yuki knew she’d be back again within the week.

It always started with an unrelated shopping trip. An excursion to buy some nail polish and ribbons for her next sleepover with Asmo. Or perhaps an errand to pick up the newest video game Levi had pre-ordered, for he was too anxious to go out himself. Regardless of where her ventures began, they always ended back at the bakery—where she could purchase a little something for Beel. It hardly cost her anything (mostly because Yuki gave her legendary discounts) and Beel always got so adorably excited when she came home with dessert, so of course Rayfa had made it into a habit. It was such an easy way to put a smile on his face! How could she not?

“I’m already looking forward to it!” Yuki beamed. “See you next week, hun!”

“See you then!”

Rayfa carefully lifted the hefty white cake box into her hands, then began her leisurely walk back to the House of Lamentation, the soft chimes of the bakery’s doorbell twinkling faintly behind her. It was a lovely night outside, pleasantly warm but with the welcome caveat of a gentle breeze. It was the kind of evening that Rayfa liked to spend admiring the beauty of the Devildom, but something about this particular night was making her uneasy. She felt like she was being watched—nay, hunted. Instinctively, she quickened her pace, trying not to think about it. It was surely just her imagination.

Rayfa was maybe two blocks away from salvation—the HoL—when disaster finally struck. Out of nowhere, Rayfa felt burly/muscular arms wrap uncomfortably tightly around her waist. She readied herself to scream, but a freakishly large hand—with claws—clamped down over her mouth. She fought and kicked as violently as she could, but humans were no match for demons, and her attackers callously dragged her into the nearest alleyway.

Once they were far enough back not to be spotted from the sidewalk, Demon #1 forced her up against the wall and spat out an impatient order.

“I’m going to remove my hand now. Scream, and we’ll make things far messier than they need to be. You understand?”

Rayfa, shaking with fear, nodded frantically. Devildom nights were darker than black, and the streets had been relatively barren earlier, anyway. Rayfa doubted that anyone would come running even if she did scream. The clawed hand was removed, and Rayfa gasped for breath. It wasn’t that she couldn’t breathe before; She was just relieved to get that grimy hand away from her face.

“It’s not every day you see a human ’round these parts…” Demon #1 chuckled darkly.

Rayfa spied two more demons over his shoulder. So there were three of these fuckers, then.

Demon #1 stepped forward to grab her chin—to force her to look at him—which Rayfa desperately wanted to resist. Her self-preservation instincts told her to keep quiet though, and frustratedly, she obeyed.

…Until the dirtbag harassing her stepped purposefully on top of the cake box that had fallen from her grasp during the scuffle.

“That was for my friend…!” Rayfa growled angrily, surprising even herself with how upset she had gotten on Beel’s behalf—especially when her own current predicament was so much worse.

“Yeah, well-” Demon #1 scoffed and cruelly kicked the cake box aside. He stepped closer—again—and made a very deliberate show of licking his lips. “Your friend’s not the only one who needs to eat.”

Rayfa went pale. This guy was actually Oberon levels of creepy. (Levi would have been so proud of Rayfa for that SAO reference.)

“Wait! You-! You can’t eat me!” Rayfa squeaked. “I’m, like, the face of the exchange program! You could ruin relations between the three realms forever!”

“Tch. Like we care about that!” Demon #2 mocked boisterously. “We never wanted to make friends with those stuck-up celestials in the first place!”

“And humans, of course, are just snacks!” Demon #1 tacked on gleefully. “Who gives a fuck if Diavolo’s little exchange program falls through?”

Rayfa gritted her teeth. She wanted to argue more, but they had clearly already made up their minds. She was so royally screwed.

Demon #3, who had been relatively silent throughout the whole exchange, suddenly stepped closer. He was easily the largest of the three degenerate demons; Rayfa had to tilt her head almost all the way back just to meet his eyes. Intimidating. Demon #3 stared her down with the ferocity of a lion. Then he began to speak—quietly yet gruffly—the words foreign and unrecognizable. Suddenly, realization dawned on her. He was reciting a hex.

But by the time Rayfa realized, it was already too late. Her body shrank rapidly and she dizzily watched the world around her grow larger and larger and larger—until finally, she was left untouched at 2-3 inches tall. Things were not looking good for her. But! At such a small size, they couldn’t possibly clamp a hand down over her mouth again! Right?

Desperately, Rayfa began to recite the one phrase she prayed could get her out of this mess:

“Hear me, denizens of the darkness, you who are born of shadow and you who give birth to it! Hear me and do as I command!”

“Stop her!” Demon #1 roared furiously, and Demon #3 (the nearest) made a desperate grab for her. Rayfa just barely managed to scramble out of the way before he could get his grubby hands on her, silently cursing the fact that the summoning incantation was so ungodly long. Nevertheless, she was determined to see it through.

“I, Rayfa, call upon you to send forth one of your number! I summon the Avatar of- HnghGruh!”

Though he had failed to grab her, Demon #3 was still determined to shut her up. He backhanded her—hard—which was enough to garble her words and send her flying backwards across the pavement. Rayfa winced at the scrapes she received. They were gonna hurt like a bitch tomorrow, assuming she lived to see it.

Interrupted as she may have been, though, the spell—blessedly—had still gone through. There was a blinding flash of golden light, and then there, standing before her, was none other than…

Mammon, the Avatar of Greed.

Huh.

Rayfa had (admittedly) been hoping for Lucifer, but whatever panicked sound she’d made upon being swatted away had apparently sounded more like the word greed than the word pride. Honestly though, Rayfa was just relieved to see a familiar face.

…As endearingly incompetent as that familiar face could sometimes be.

Mammon stumbled around dazedly for a moment, and Rayfa felt guilty knowing that her poor casting of the spell was likely to blame. Quickly, she shook her head to clear her mind. Guilt could come later; Right now was her chance to escape!

Even though Mammon had not immediately chased off the three depraved demons, his unexpected appearance alone was more than enough of a distraction for Rayfa to work with. At the very least, she no longer felt quite as cornered as before. Demon #1, Demon #2, and Demon #3 were focused entirely on Mammon now, and that gave her the perfect opportunity to disappear. A full-sized demon was a much greater threat than a tiny human girl, after all! Rayfa instantly began scheming. Maybe she could subtly sneak away now, text Lucifer or Satan to come pick her up, and apologize to Mammon for using him as an escape later. He would fake like he was annoyed by it, she was sure, but there was no way these demons would actually be able to hurt him—not like they would hurt her—and Mammon would recognize that too. He’d just be relieved that he’d protected her, even if unknowingly at first.

Rayfa was just about to make her move, ready to dart out of the shady alleyway, but right before she took the first step, dark blue eyes swirled with gold locked onto her.

“Rayfa?!” Mammon spluttered out with confusion, as the last of the vertigo from her botched summoning spell finally wore off.

It took a good few seconds for Mammon to realize exactly what was happening, but eventually things did click for him, and the Avatar of Greed whirled on the lesser demons indignantly. Unfortunately for him, Demon #1 and his lackeys had finally recovered from the shock of their surprise visitor and were eager to make him pay.

“Oh shit!” Mammon swore, lightning-fast reflexes kicking into gear as he ducked to avoid a punch.

Demon #2 quickly lunged after him, but Mammon—surprisingly tactfully—sidestepped that, too. Levi really hadn’t been kidding when he’d said that Mammon was “Fast as fuck, boi!” Seriously! He moved so quickly that Rayfa could scarcely make out a blur! Mammon deftly avoided several more attacks, then glanced around with wild eyes, searching for an out. When he found one—as he always did—his body moved before his brain could catch up. Rayfa supposed she shouldn’t hold his recklessness against him though. It was what she was currently banking on to save her life.

When Mammon finally threw a punch of his own, the attack was surprisingly calculated. His fist connected squarely with the jaw of the head honcho—Demon #1—and Mammon capitalized on that fact. All he had needed was an opening, which he’d succeeded in creating for himself when Demon #1 had stumbled backwards from the force of the blow. He quickly darted past the now capsized enemy, taking advantage of the clever little “escape route” that was open. And then…

Mammon just fucking ran for it, gravel flying as he skidded past the remaining two lackeys and began sprinting directly towards poor terrified Rayfa. He didn’t slow down as he neared her. In fact, Rayfa swore he sped up! She squeezed her eyes shut as Mammon barreled forward at breakneck speeds, leaning down at just the right moment to scoop her up as he careened away from the alley. Rayfa let out a squeak of alarm as she felt Mammon’s fingers curl around her, but she relaxed somewhat when she realized that he had actually taken great care to hold her securely (but not so tightly that she’d be uncomfortably squeezed).

And then, just like that, they were gone.

Rayfa hadn’t expected anything less from him. If there was one thing Mammon was great at, it was running away. (Usually from debt collectors or angry brothers, but the logic applied here too.)

“Oh shit! Oh fuck!” Mammon panicked, footsteps pounding heavily on the sidewalk. “I really don’t wanna die!”

Despite herself, Rayfa felt a smile playing on her lips. Even when Mammon actually managed to pull off something pretty damn cool, he was still an endearingly panicky mess. But Rayfa wouldn’t have him any other way.

A few tense minutes of running later, Mammon veered off into another alleyway further down the street, panting heavily. Quick as he was, he obviously didn’t have the stamina to go on running forever. He needed a breather, but Rayfa didn’t think they could afford to take one.

The demon muttered something frustratedly under his breath. Rayfa couldn’t quite catch the words, but she could only imagine he was cursing out their pursuers. Which was totally understandable—they very much deserved it—but what Rayfa couldn’t understand was why he had stopped to do so. Tired or not, they had to get home!

“Mammon?” Rayfa questioned nervously, gently prying his fingers apart to sneak a worried peek up at the demon. He held her level with his heart, hands cupped carefully around her, blue-gold eyes gazing down upon her worriedly. Had they not been dangerously preoccupied, Rayfa would’ve melted at how concerned he looked over her.

“I’m not gonna let ‘em have ya,” Mammon growled protectively. “You’re my human, ya hear?”

Mammon had always been relatively exceedingly protective of her, but Rayfa had never really minded. She thought the whole “keep you all to myself” thing was sweet, even, albeit in a very Mammon sort of way. But something about the way he was staring at her now…

For the first time since they’d met, Rayfa felt inherently nervous under the Avatar of Greed’s gaze.

“Uhhh, are you-” Rayfa started to say, but the demon’s hands suddenly lurched beneath her, causing her to yelp with surprise rather than finish her thought. “Aaa!”

Mammon determinedly brought her to eye-level, an uncharacteristically serious expression etched across handsome features.

“What are you doing?!” Rayfa nervously demanded, the demon’s sudden solemnity eating away at her. Mammon was never sober like this. To make matters worse, Rayfa could hear the angry shouts of the demons they’d run away from. Those fuckers were finally starting to catch up.

It seemed that Mammon had heard them too, their voices being what finally spurred him on to do the unthinkable.

“S-Sorry ‘bout this!”

Mammon rarely ever apologized, which only solidified Rayfa’s right to fear whatever was coming. She had a really really really bad feeling about this.

Mammon, looking just as nervous as Rayfa felt, awkwardly guided the brave little human towards his lips. He gulped nervously, then opened wide with an automatic “ahhh”, and realization came crashing down onto the girl like a tidal wave. Rayfa screamed and tried to scramble backwards, but Mammon quickly threw his head back and fervently crammed her in.

It was almost absurd how quickly the demon’s mouth flooded with drool. Rayfa whined with disgust as warm gooey saliva oozed over her, bubbling up and seeping through her clothes. Mammon cautiously brought his teeth back together, sealing her away inside, then began eagerly slurping down her staple human flavors. Rayfa felt herself blush, angry and embarrassed that Mammon was spending such an exorbitant amount of time tasting her.

“Mammon!” Rayfa seethed, practically shaking with rage. “What the fuck!”

She was exhausted and disgruntled and grossed out, but begrudgingly, she decided to put up with whatever episode Mammon was having right now because she trusted him. For all she knew, demon spit could reverse hexes cast on humans or something! Right, yeah. Mammon probably had a plan. She just needed to play along and-

*Glk!*

Mammon gulped thickly, and Rayfa suddenly felt the clench of tight/squishy muscle around her as she was sucked down into the boy’s throat. She squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath, being worked deeper and deeper with every purposeful swallow. Mammon had been quick to stuff her into his mouth, but now that she was safely out of sight, Rayfa noticed, he was taking his sweet time getting her down. Slow, languid gulps. Pleasured hums vibrating around her. Fingers gingerly pressed against the throat, presumably to feel her fight back as he swallowed. Rayfa grimaced as she slowly squelched down his greedy gullet, squirming violently as the unyielding flesh easily suctioned her down.

“Stop enjoying this…!” Rayfa growled disgustedly. “Bastard…!”

Within the minute, Mammon finished swallowing her down, letting out a relieved and breathy sigh. Rayfa, meanwhile, gasped out as the tight, hot, unyielding throat finally gave way to a much roomier space. Fleshy and vulnerable, the squishy pink walls shifted easily around her as Rayfa scrambled to reorient herself. A noisy gurgle stretched on, echoing around the darkness. She had finally reached his stomach.

“…hububhhuhuhh…” Mammon babbled through what sounded like a very drooly mouthful.

“Mammon! Are you kidding me right now?!” Rayfa screamed, raging annoyance briefly overtaking her fear.

“…tha’ feelsh…” Mammon moaned out. “…so fuckin’ guhd…”

Rayfa shuddered at how the stomach lurched as Mammon stumbled almost-drunkenly backwards, then slumped against the grimy brick walls, slowly sliding down and lowering himself to the ground.

“Urghhh!” Rayfa groaned, utterly exasperated. “You! Are! The! Absolute! Worst!”

Every word was punctuated with an annoyed punch to the stomach walls. She only really succeeded in getting her fist all sticky/slimy with stomach ooze though; Manmon appeared entirely unaffected.

Rayfa surely would have chewed him out even more had she not been interrupted by a sickeningly familiar voice. Even though she was tucked away out of sight, she still shivered just hearing it. They had finally caught up.

“What did you do with the girl?!” Demon #1 demanded furiously.

“I, uh…” Mammon slurred. He had barely even begun to answer when his digestive system suddenly did the work for him, a deep and contented burp rolling up his throat. “Mrph. ‘Scuse me.”

It didn’t take much for Demon #1 and his lackeys to put two and two together after that.

“Bastard! She was supposed to be my lunch!” Demon #1 roared. “Get him!”

Rayfa hated that her heart leapt at the thought of Mammon getting caught up in trouble. Especially on her behalf. She was supposed to be angry at him—he had fucking eaten her—but much to her annoyance and embarrassment, she couldn’t shake the worry from her heart. She’d grown to care too much.

“Mammon, please! Get it together!” Rayfa urged, cursing herself for encouraging the man who had gulped her down like nothing more than an afternoon snack. But she couldn’t just sit idly by!

Mammon stayed seated, but Rayfa felt the stomach shift as he at least sat up straight. She felt a sudden surge of power flow through and around her, too. And when Mammon next spoke, his voice was unrecognizable.

“BaCK oFF,” Mammon snarled like a rabid dog, sounding like an actual demon for the first time since Rayfa had met him. “Or I’LL eaT yOU foR desSERT!”

Rayfa was pretty sure that Mammon only had a hankering for humans—not for other demons—but the threat worked all the same. Mammon almost never lost control, which made the few times he actually did downright terrifying. Rayfa could only imagine the looks of horror on her attackers’ faces as they trembled at the sight of the second son’s true form.

“Shit! I didn’t realize he was one of the seven Avatars-!”

“Okay, okay! You can keep the human! Just-!” An honest-to-god whimper. “Please don’t hurt us!”

“Quick! Let’s get out of here!”

Noises from the “outside world” (with the exception of voices) had proven too muffled to hear from within the confines of the demon boy’s gut, but Rayfa imagined that if she had been out there with him, she would’ve heard a stampede of receding footsteps. Her suspicions were further supported when she felt the energy needed to maintain his true form slowly fade away. Mammon let out a thoroughly contented puff of breath and relaxed back against the wall again, too. Demon form now totally dispelled. And then, in a move Rayfa never would’ve expected, Mammon began rubbing his belly appreciatively—she could feel the gentle weight on the other side of the “wall”. For a hopeful but fleeting moment, Rayfa almost believed he cared. But no! He had eaten her!

Rayfa tried desperately to work out why Mammon had done this. Had he decided that, if she was going to end up “demon food” anyway, it may as well be his belly she was filling? A memory from long ago suddenly sprung to the forefront of her mind:

“The next time your life’s in danger, I’m gonna be the one to save you, all right? Don’t you forget that.”

“…And if I can’t manage to save ya, then make sure you die, got it?!”

Rayfa felt tears prickling at her eyes. So that was it then. Mammon had decided that if he couldn’t protect her, the least he could do was take her out himself.

Rayfa shuddered as the stomach gurgled loudly. It’d been relentlessly noisy—groaning and churning around her—for the entire duration of her “stay”. She felt drowned out, unsure whether or not Mammon could even hear her, but Rayfa had never been the type to give up.

“Mammon! They- They’re gone now, right? So then let me out!”

“…fiyve mr…minuhhs…” Mammon mumbled out, words slurred and utterly unintelligible.

Rayfa groaned.

Why are you like this?

Praying that Mammon could hear her—she still wasn’t totally sure her words would reach him from down there—Rayfa did the only thing she could think left to do. She called upon the power of the pact.

“MAMMON!!!” Rayfa roared at the top of her lungs, fingers crossed that he could actually hear her so that the pact would work. “SPIT! ME! OUT!”

Rayfa guessed her words must’ve gotten through to him, because just like that, the demon’s body began to obey. The stomach lurched, and Mammon began making throaty/guttural choking noises like he was dry-heaving. Rayfa felt herself being tugged back towards the esophagus—This was her way out!—but the gagging sounds poor Mammon was making were rapidly becoming unbearable. Rayfa was genuinely beginning to worry that she’d accidentally commanded him to choke himself.

“Hrrk, rggh, hrghk-!”

“Okay, okay! Stop! Don’t hurt yourself!”

Rayfa cursed her own lack of resolve. She was going to die here now. As nothing more than “demon food”—like Mammon always teased. All because she couldn’t bring herself to hurt the lovable dumbass who’d eaten her.

Her surroundings shook turbulently for another few seconds as coughs wracked Mammon’s body. He wasn’t choking anymore, thank god, but he was very clearly gasping for breath. Rayfa felt terribly guilty for putting him through that. When Mammon had finally cleared his throat, he muttered out an unabashedly annoyed:

“Ya know, it’d be a lot easier on the botha us if ya lemme cough you up myself.”

“You-!” Rayfa brightened at finally being addressed, tears of relief blurring her vision. “You were really going to let me out?”

“Well, duh.” Mammon shrugged, and Rayfa slid as the walls shifted around her. “If I wanted ya dead, I woulda let those lesser demons have ya.”

“But-! But you-!”

“Didn’t ya hear the protection spell?” Mammon grumbled, clearing his throat again. Apparently, some lingering discomfort remained. Rayfa winced sympathetically. She really hadn’t meant to hurt him. “I cast one on ya right before I swallowed ya down.”

Ah. So that’s what he had been doing when she saw him “cursing out” the demons chasing them. Apparently, that flustered muttering had been a protection spell.

“Okay, fine! But why didn’t you answer me?!” Rayfa demanded shakily. “I was seriously freaking out, Mammon!”

“I, uh…” And the regret was practically tangible. He sounded immeasurably guilty. “’M sorry.” He finally settled on. “I didn’t mean to get buzzed like that.”

Yeah, Rayfa had figured that much out. She didn’t say so, though. Instead, she stayed patiently quiet, giving him room to elaborate.

“Humans really are a delicacy for us, ya know? And havin’ one alive and kickin’ in my belly…” Mammon mumbled embarrassedly. “…kinda fried my brain.”

Yeah, that checked out. Rayfa hummed in acknowledgement.

“Didn’t mean to give ya a heart attack though…” Mammon continued after a beat. “I really am sorry ‘bout that, Rayfa.”

He sounded so beyond apologetic that Rayfa couldn’t help but want to reach out to him. In moments like these—rare as they were—Rayfa would usually give him a hug. But obviously, that couldn’t quite be done…

Almost reflexively, Rayfa reached out with both hands, palms splayed against the squishy stomach walls. She gave a reassuring little shove—like a playful nudge to the shoulder—then slowly began rubbing soothing little circles into the flesh. Mammon shivered with delight at her touch; Rayfa could feel the stomach tremble with pleasure. Despite herself, she let out a little laugh.

“That good, huh?” Rayfa teased. The playful banter almost made her feel like they were chilling out on the couch together. Almost made her forget where she really was.

“Sh-Shaddup!”

Rayfa just knew he was blushing like crazy.

“I guess I should probably thank you for saving me,” Rayfa sighed wistfully. “Albeit through very unconventional means.”

Mammon huffed proudly. “You’re welcome! You should know by now never to doubt the Great Mammon!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Rayfa waved away the egotistical comment. “Can the ‘Great Mammon’ cough me up already? It’s super gross down here.”

“Uh.” Mammon froze, and Rayfa could feel the stomach tense up nervously around her. “Just lemme getcha back to the dorms first. You’ve got a penchant for trouble and I don’t wantcha runnin’ into any more of it.”

Excuse me?! You think I’m the one with the penchant for trouble?!

It took Rayfa a moment to realize that Mammon didn’t actually think her a trouble-magnet. He just wanted an excuse to hold onto her for a little longer. Because he was enjoying it.

Rayfa sighed heavily. She knew she was going to regret this: “Yeah, okay. But you’d better let me out the second we get home.”

“Yeah, ‘course! Sure thing.”

Rayfa laughed and shook her head. Now that Mammon had gotten a taste, Rayfa had the distinct feeling that this wouldn’t be the last time she found herself playing the role of “dinner”.

But curiously enough, Rayfa also found that maybe she didn’t totally mind. ❤️

#submission #op #soft vore #safe vore #shall we vore #once again THANK YOU SO MUCH for sharing this fic with me #I know I already talked with you but you characterized M/ammon SO well #And I'd love to hear more about Rayfa and Yuki and their friendship <3 #It's so rare for people to have demon OCs and I love it so much #Theres so much worldbuilding that can be done with your MC and their friends outside of RAD and it makes me really happy to see #Anyway you are an AMAZING writer and if you ever do decide to post your stories somewhere #You'd better believe I'll be your first follower

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