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shadowtraveled · 2 months

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"mithrun is the only real monsterfucker in dungeon meshi" is objectively the funniest bit you can get out of his everything, but in all seriousness i think his attraction to his love interest is deliberately overstated—and that makes sense, because romantic jealousy is a classic and digestible motive, which is explicitly what kabru was aiming for in condensing mithrun's backstory, and also because until chapter 94, mithrun wasn't willing to admit to the true nature of his desires.

but because romantic envy is both classic and digestible, it probably isn’t a unique enough or complicated enough desire to tempt a demon’s appetite. mithrun’s wish, as far as we can figure from kabru’s reduced retelling, was to have a life in which he had never become one of the canaries, and that carries like 3857 implications and desires within it. that’s delicious. his love interest acts as sort of a red herring to his motivation for making it, though. (side note: i'm saying "love interest" here because, keeping in mind that i barely speak japanese on a good day anymore, "想い人" is something i'd usually take as just kind of an old-fashioned and romantic way to refer to a lover, but in context i wonder if both the connotation of yearning and the vagueness are intentional, and i think this phrasing gets those aspects of it more effectively. anyway.)

mithrun considered his love interest to be untrustworthy. there was a minute where i thought that comment might be about a similar-looking elf (yugin, one of his squad members), but comparing the two…

the "sketchy" arrow is definitely referring to the elf we know as his love interest—the bangs go toward her right, she only has the one forehead ornament, and, most notably, her ears aren't notched.

every time she’s given a full-body depiction in his dungeon, she’s drawn as a chimera, with the body of a snake from the waist down. (side note: the “what if a dungeon has chimeras before reaching level 4?”/“then the dungeon lord is unstable” exchange just being mithrun grilling his past self alive is so funny. he’s so. but anyway) there are a couple things about this.

first, the snake part of the chimera appears to be modeled after some species of coral snake mimic

which, in the biology-for-fun manga, i… doubt is a coincidence, especially with the added context of the “untrustworthy” comment. the dungeon’s conjured illusion of mithrun’s love interest was a harmless copycat of a venomous original. for whatever reason, he felt this person was a threat and made up a "safe" version of her to be in a relationship with, and while it’s definitely possible to be attracted to or even love someone you find to be toxic and/or intimidating, when you take that into consideration alongside the configuration of her body, you get some interesting implications.

which brings us to our second point: if we assume that mithrun was not in fact fucking a snake, then sexual attraction, at least, was so far removed from his idea of a relationship with this person that he did not even bother to keep her dungeon copy human enough to maintain the illusion of the option of a sexual relationship. this is somewhat echoed in the depictions of their interactions, which also imply a frankly unexpected romantic distance. she kisses his cheek and he doesn't seem to react; she's at the edge of a narrow bed with only one set of pillows, on top of his blankets while he's underneath them.

the kiss is particularly interesting because it seems to contrast the text. kabru's narration tells us this was everything mithrun could have asked for, but mithrun is there looking unreadable to pensive, likely because this is right before the panel that makes it clear things in the dungeon are beginning to go wrong.

walking through this backwards for a minute, we have the physical barrier of his bedding and the spatial separation inherent in a bed made for one person, the emotional barrier of his mounting anxiety getting in the way of his ability to enjoy the affection he sought, and... the snake, which historically carries the connotation of temptation, yes, but also mistrust, barring physical intimacy. okay. ok. if a dungeon reflects the mentality of its lord, all of this might suggest that mithrun was not able to have any real desire for a relationship with this person. his unwillingness to be vulnerable or let another person in was insurmountable. but in that case, why was she such a focal point that she remained to the end, after his dungeon had stopped creating iterations of his friends to come and visit him? why would he get so upset over her meeting with his brother that he became lord of a dungeon about it?

well. mithrun's brother was also interested in her, probably genuinely. and mithrun had to win.

you have an older brother who your parents completely ignore, probably in part because he is chronically ill/disabled and almost definitely in part because he received a ton of recessive traits that resulted in rumors that he was an illegitimate child. you are aware, most likely because those same parents fucking told you, that you actually are an illegitimate child. but they keep you around because you had the good fortune of looking just like your mother. what can that possibly teach you but that you, like your brother, are disposable?

it's utterly unsurprising that mithrun, under these circumstances, developed a pathological need to be better than everyone around him. people don't keep you otherwise. i'd argue this is also why he says he looked down on everyone he knew while milsiril claims his dungeon reeked of feelings of inferiority—he sought out people's worst traits and prioritized them in his mind to protect his already extremely fragile sense of self-worth, and all the while he tried to be as likable and high-performing as he possibly could be. his parents disposed of him anyway, but even then he tried to keep up the performance. he was kind to everyone. he never once lost to a dungeon.

when he saw his "love interest" meeting up with his brother, what he saw was himself being replaced by a person his parents had always treated as worthless, and if that was what they thought of the child they'd kept, what value could anyone possibly see in the bastard they'd given away to die? mithrun and kabru tell the story like he wanted to win this unnamed elf's heart, but it was never about being with her. it was about cementing his worth, proving that he didn't deserve to be thrown away.

and so it's particularly cruel that his demon discarded him, too. but maybe it's also particularly gentle that, in the end, there was someone who refused to even consider giving up on him.

kui laid it out in three panels better than i could hope to.

yeah. it's love. you wanted to be loved, even when the only way you were able to understand it was through the desire to be wanted, and you wanted that so badly that the idea of being consumed felt like the promise of finally mattering to someone.

#dungeon meshi spoilers #mithrun #dungeon meshi #this has been rotating for a while but i wanted to check my evidence before getting into it thanks user angelspenance for posting that meme #half of this is just the text and the other half i'm sure has been said before but it's making my brain [radio static] so here this is #someone did for sure mention this but i do find it very cute that in his fucked up conjured world meant to portray his ideal reality #his teammates came to visit him. like part of the fantasy was then explicitly that they cared about him and were his friends. even though #he says he tried to see the worst in them.#hm it does feel important to note that i do also believe 100% in mithrun suicidality--his desire to be eaten does seem to focus a lot on #wanting it to be Over. wanting not to be left incomplete and empty anymore.#but that loops back around a bit to the hole in your heart that appears when you feel unloved. it's many things and the same thing at once #snakes #long post #severe problems #meshy

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killjoy-prince · 2 months

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House M.D. but it's when House says Wilson's name

#house md #gregory house #prince's talk tag #after almost two weeks of going through the transcripts of every episode I finally finish this and the Wilson version #first off thank you to the clinic-duty team on livejournal for making the transcripts for these episodes #because this video would be near impossible to make without their clear transcripts. I hope y'all are doing well #ive been reading a lot of fics with these two and i see how the authors have the characters refer to each other in their fics #and that got me wondering how much do they say each other's name in the show and how do they refer to each other #since this is the house video ill put his stats here #s1 was 19 times s2 was 31 s3 was 34 s4 was 30 s5 was 35 s6 was 58 s7 was 25 and s8 was 28 #in total he says his name 260 times. Mostly refers to him just by Wilson #He's only said Wilson's first name 7 times. Once by Jim 3 by Jimmy and 3 by James #He'll use his full name in professional settings or to be sarcastic or to pretend to be him #You know since House is the main character and in every episode of the show i thought he'd say his name more than him #but Wilson beats him by 42 times bc s7 and s8 he doesn't say his name as much. it took Wilson getting cancer for him to say it more #than he was before that point

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deep-spacediver577 · 8 months

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#DSD577art #doodle #Danny Phantom #Hear ye hear ye!! behold my bad Grammar!#You know when I said I was trying to be impulsive with my art?#I failed that somehow...#fanny pack #or should it be...#Phanny pack?#←⁠_⁠←#once again hats off to those who thought of this before me

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dungeons-and-dragon-age · 2 months

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Kala is filing a complaint

#oh dont worry they said the sky is harmless they said its all superstition they said #yeah sure. explain this then #this is an incomplete list not including: sun hurting eyes; thunder hurting ears; and other such things #ive doodled sth along these lines more than once before lol bc it is on my brain often #but dont think i've posted anything for it before? i might be wrong but doesnt matter #i dont draw her enough anyway #my art #my ocs #oc: kalagna brosca #kala and june are the candidates who always look too young when i draw them rip #gotta figure out how to make them look older smh..#dont think kala should be quite as baby faced by the time of inquisition lol

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leafwateraddict · 2 months

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Found some old sketches I had for @llamagoddessofficials Coraline au along with some headcanons I had for Dart and Patch (also stuffing.. gore?)

Ft. A sexy Dart because I saw a fancy looking corset and put him in it and instantly regretted it (along with some ideas for his button eyes)

Also other Mc/Thread along with some sentences i thought of if I ever ended up writing that drabble (which I probably wont- rip)

#llamagoddessofficial #coraline au #You can see me slowly losing my mind as I make the guy who wants to probably eat my soul hot #like #ah yes #the consequences of my own actions #also practically fell in love with the concept of him using a curled needle as a weapon of sorts #like he uses it like a hook and it ensnares people #eheeheehe #now that I know a bit more about darts personality I’d prolly change the outift a bit #but i just saw a fancy corset and put him in it :3 #I will admit that I found some inspiration for dart in the distortionist from that one GHOST song #Idk why I went with stuffing gore but once it was there that idea was here to stay in my brain #I remember wanting to post these for awhile but I completely forgot about them lol #as ive said before #i am a sucker for coraline aus #undertale au #leafs art #cw gore #gore

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fallenstarzz · 27 days

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Thinking many many thoughts about how Jean was Riko's partner for a YEAR and was still rooming with Goon #3. Because that was how unwilling Riko was to let go of Kevin. And how that implies that Jean was placed as his partner both because of the practicality of Kevin being gone AND as a punishment for letting him go in the first place. Being partners with Jean could actually slow Riko down depending on how often he's hurt (because I don't think Riko was all that exempt from the rules to the point where his partner's performance would completely not matter) and he was still placed there. Riko was just THAT angry at him over Kevin's escape. And all the while he was keeping Kevin's side of room like an altar, even back when he didn't even think Kevin could PLAY, because of an injury he caused.

#'average aftg fan thinks about Kevins side of the room once a day.' factoid. headboard georg (me) is thinking on it at all times #everything about the perfect court makes me so absolutely insane i am chewing on glass #do you guys think that Jean would still have distracted Riko if he knew Kevin was going to leave?#moreover. do you guys REALLY think Jean didn't at least suspect he was leaving #because tsc is probably going to prove me wrong but I think he would and he knew #anyway. i said it before and i will say it again #the kevriko toxic teen girl homoerotic friendship rizz is unparalleled #riko moriyama the man that you are. they could never make me think you're uninteresting I want to use your brain as a saltshaker #I don't think Riko (or Tetsuji for that matter since he prompted it) ever actually realised what Kevin's injury MEANT. like for real #it wasn't putting him in his place it was destroying the very idea of the perfect court. it was DONE #if Kevin hadn't recovered. if the plot of AFTG hadn't happened. how long would it have taken for Riko to realize #that HE killed the very thing he built his life around and was just dragging it behind him like a corpse (Jean)#kevin day #riko moriyama #jean moreau #the sunshine court #all for the game #the perfect court

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floccinaucinihilipilificationa · 11 months

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Hello may 31th anon! Look at that, another year behind us and a new one to come. Have a nice day! ₍՞◌′ᵕ‵ू◌₎♡

#may 31th anon #hello friends!! (｡’▽’｡)♡ how are you!! I missed you so much!#I'm sorry that once again i have not been posting but I did that thing again where I got scared of posting #I do not know why but it is the same with physical paper diarys #I have 3 diarys and they all have 1 entry #I think one just says 'I am ten'#what have you been up to!! did you do something fun? is it summer too where you live? c:#my tumblr messages seem to be broken! I'm sorry if you wrote something :C it just says 'no new messages' despite also saying new messages #not a lot has happened here! I got a tomato plant and then I got very invested into the tomato plant and I have eaten three tomatos so far (#my roses are also doing well!! I just got a new yellow rose and since she got here she only made orange flowers #I do not know the meaning of that #but I am very thankful! ( ˊᵕˋ )♡ I love it when things are orange!!#I've been trying to buy an orange shirt for the past 2 weeks but they always sell out before I get to them #I'm also thinking about buying a jean jacket #I have not worn a jean jacket for at least 15 years because one time in 7th grade tthe girl behind me said #that I was wearing a cool jean jacket and I just assumed that this was bullying for no actual reason #but maybe she just thought that it was an acutal cool jean jacket #we'll soon have out 10 year school reunion #maybe I should ask her #is anyone else going to a secret Sherlock phase again #I just want to see that silly little hat again #would sherlock holmes wear a jean jacket #have a nice day everyone!!#see you soon hopefully!!#♡＾▽＾♡

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lottieshauna · 1 month

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Lottie isn't going to die.

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fanwarriorfictions · 11 days

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Not Again - Part Ten

Summary: Azriel and Y/n both are left reeling from the fight and revelations that morning.

Warnings: ANGST!!!! Shes a little spicey, Smut (oral, f receiving), this is probably the longest chapter yet

Series Masterlist

-Part Ten-

Azriel was gone until well after dinner, she’d eaten alone in the dining room when the house had seemed sick of her wallowing and forced a plate of food in front of her. Y/n was half tempted to refuse but she felt the scolding presence and decided arguing wasn’t worth it.

The fight had drained from her in the hours she’d spent in that seat, staring at the wall. She didn’t have it in her, the fire from her argument with Azriel dying out, turning to ice in her chest until she felt nothing at all.

Once she finished every last bite of the meal, the house whisked away the plates and she was left with nothing again, just that cold empty silence. She felt the fire tugging on her, felt it like a faint echo of what she’d felt this morning, begging to be rekindled, to keep fighting until she won, that was her mother’s temper, her father’s resilience. But she wasn’t them, she wasn’t strong enough to be them, her parents had taken on the world and won, fighting for a dream that they got to achieve. Y/n? Y/n had lived through nothing but peace. She was trained as a warrior, she could fight and win, but what was there to fight for? To get home, to fight some faceless god that wanted her dead for a sin that wasn’t her own, to die anyway? What was the damned point of it all.

Alone, she was so fucking alone, and it was eating her alive.

“You’re still up.”

Her heart lurches in her chest, “Gods be damned, don’t do that.”

Azriel glides across the room, in that deadly silent way, spymaster indeed. She hadn’t even felt his approach like she usually did, that heavy feeling of being under his gaze, that feeling in her heart that whispered, he’s close. It was like it was suppressed, submerged under water, still there, but so so faint.

“I’m sorry.” He gives her a small grin that says quite the opposite, “Did I startle you?”

“Not at all,” she says, frowning up at him, “Where have you been? Babysitting not fun enough for you anymore?”

It’s easy to throw on that mask of sarcasm and arrogance, anything to hide the crushing weight on her shoulders.

“It was never fun to begin with.” He shrugs, taking a seat across from her, a glass of deep red wine appearing on the table before him, “I was dealing with court matters.”

She leans across the table and plucks the glass into her own hands, “Sounds riveting.”

The wine is sweet on her tongue as she drinks deeply, her eyes closed and her head tilted back. It soothes some of the rough edges of her, chips away at that ice.

She sighs as she finishes the glass, her eyes finding the male in front of her, who’s hazel gaze is firmly planted on her sighing lips. There’s a darkness in his gaze, different than the usual shadows, it’s deeper, it kindles that fire in her, a singular spark that could turn into a blaze. Maybe, it would be enough to burn away the thoughts that threaten to drag her down, down, down.

“That was mine,” he says quietly.

She smiles sweetly, “Was it? I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.”

His eyes don’t move from her lips, “I’ve had a long day, Princess.”

“Oh do tell.” The glass in her hand fills on its own, a gift from the house, she sips slowly. “I do hope you weren’t sulking all day.”

Azriel leans forward, arms resting on the table between them. Earlier it had felt like the only barrier keeping them from tearing into each other, now, it felt much the same.

“Sulking over what, exactly?” His head tilts to the side, examining her, “Over a stubborn female who’s ready to run head first into her death?”

And just like that the fire turns from a gentle heat to a roaring in her blood, and not in the way she wanted it to. There was something about the way he looked at her, the infuriating way he’d looked all morning during their fight, that has her fire burning again. Fight, fight, fight. She wanted to fight and burn and take all of this storming emotion inside of her out on him, and it would seem he was finally ready to do the same.

“I see you’ve still got your panties in a twist over this,” she grins, showing off her canines, “Did you think you could just kiss me and I’d fall at your feet and let you go over protective fae male on me?”

His eyes drop to her lips, “I’d think you’d have wanted to actually survive long enough to make it home to your family.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do,” she snaps, “But you and your busybody court won’t get out of my way.”

“So you can get yourself killed?” His gaze is darker, filled with that rage and something more, “So you can throw yourself in front of a vengeful god that wants you dead, leaving the portal open to it, get all of us killed in your reckless, idiotic, selfish attempt.”

He’s right, she knows that, whatever god has it out for her won’t stop until she’s dead, and after that, who knows what it will do with the lock. She sees his reasoning, she understands it, but she’s geared for a fight and that fire fuels her.

“If you’d let me try,” she snarls, “give me the damned book and figure out how to open the right gate-“

“No.” His voice is soft, a simmering heat lacing it, “You are not going anywhere near that book, you are not trying that fucking gate again, you are not leaving-“

“Leaving what, who? Leaving you?” There’s a raging fire in her eyes, in her blood, in the pit of her stomach, it begs for her to burn with it, she chases the feeling so she doesn’t feel the emptiness from before. “Was my mouth so good that you can’t stand to let me go?”

That narrow focus on her mouth sends a thrill through her, “Is it so shocking that I actually care about your wellbeing, you absolute fucking brat.”

Her grin is feline, “I have a feeling you like brats, shadowsinger.”

Azriel is standing, leaning over the table, wings flared in the perfect picture of a wrathful god. Her eyes skate over him, down those sculpted arms to the hands that look ready to wring her neck. He could easily wrap one of his large hands around her throat and squeeze the life out of her, could make her see stars.

When her eyes travel back up to his, she could melt with the heat in them. This is exactly what she wanted, rile him up, get him to either punch her or fuck her, she didn’t quite care which, only that he made her feel something other than nothing.

“Listen, Princess.” Gods his voice was gravely, laced with anger and something that made her toes curl in her boots. “I see what you’re doing, and it’s not going to work.”

“And what exactly am I doing, Azriel” she lets her voice drop low when she says his name, lifting that glass of wine to her mouth.

His hand snaps out, practically ripping the glass from her hand, “You think you can get under my skin, make me angry enough, make me want to put you in your damned place.”

She was on fire, burning and burning. A noise almost slips off her tongue as he turns the glass, placing his mouth directly on the spot hers had been, and throws the whole thing back, the strong column of his throat on perfect display to her. A primal part of her wants to sink her teeth into the flesh and leave her mark on him.

Azriel slams the glass down on the table, a crack forming in its stem, “You want me to make you feel something, you want to act like a brat to hide how fucking scared and lonely you feel.”

The heat stops, everything stops as he continues, “You want me to be your gods damned distraction from that fucking void in your chest.

“Fuck you,” she snarls, standing to copy his stance, leaning across that table like she’d jump it and tear his throat out instead of laying her claim, “you’re a piece of shit, shadowsinger.”

He leans in closer, close enough she can smell the wine on his breath, “I’ll take you when you’re done being a coward, Princess.”

And like it meant nothing, that soul baring sentence, he turns and stalks out of the room, shadows trailing behind him like they were trying to stay.

The glass is flying through the air, shattering on the arch of the doorway, and those lingering shadows scatter.

He felt like he was that glass, exploding into a million pieces. It took every ounce of self control to keep walking, to keep dampening that bond he could so strongly feel now that he was aware of it. He could feel her on the other side of that tendril of shadow, raging, desperate, scared, and lonely. So gods damned lonely.

Azriel understood the feeling, he’d felt it all day since the moment Rhys has spoken those words, his mate. He’d collapsed, no longer able to support himself and he’d spent those agonizing hours crying, letting Cassian and Rhys bear his weight. How cruel was fate to bring her to him, this female of pine and snow and fire that reminded him of home, this female that would eventually have to leave him.

His mate, a storm of ice, wind, and fire on the other side of that tendril of shadow that connected them. His mate, the warrior who’d handed him his ass on more than one occasion, who could get beneath his skin more than anyone he’d ever known. His mate, the most beautiful female he’d ever seen.

He’d felt her from the River house, the way her thoughts had spiraled out of control, the rage draining into nothingness, it scared the shit out of him, enough that he’d started to pull himself together, using his brothers to haul himself off the floor. It had taken longer than he would’ve liked to make himself presentable, to force his wings to work to take him to her, to dampen that bond so she wouldn’t feel the agony he was in.

When he’d seen her there, broken and lost, he needed to get her back, desperately needed her to come back from that edge. He was willing to shove his own agony into a box and put on a mask. He tugged once on that bond, begging her to fight it. And when she'd started to come back, when she started to play with him, he kept going, stoking that fire anyway he could, he brought back the rage from that morning, the desire in his blood, and they fought and pushed at each other.

He felt that primal urge to claim her right then and there, but he couldn't. He could feel her on the other side, feel the lust and fire, feel the despair hidden beneath. She wanted a distraction, not him, she wanted to hide from everything she was feeling and Azriel desperately wanted to do it, to take her over that table, over and over, to scream that she was his mate, to claim her as his. Instead he’d called her a coward, he really meant it about himself.

Azriel was terrified, to bare his soul only to have it ripped away through a gate across the stars. He would fall at her feet and she would still leave him, he wasn’t enough to make her stay, he knew that. She had a destiny, she would be a Queen in a far away land, and she would one day find a consort who would be able to stay by her side, love her, cherish her.

He felt sick. Barely making it to his room and into the bathroom before he heaved the contents of his stomach into the bowl. Azriel couldn’t breathe, couldn’t stop the spasms in his abdomen, couldn’t stop the tears streaming down his face.

The mother was cruel, so very cruel.

Y/n couldn’t go back to her room, couldn’t be that close to him, she wasn’t sure what she would do if she was. Would she take her dagger to his throat, would she take all the rage in her blood and kill him, or would she cave into the desperate need to kiss him, to turn that anger into passion. Both options were bad ideas, enough that she begged the house to show her to a room as far away as possible.

When she woke with the sunrise, the unfamiliar room nearly sent her into a panic before the night before crashed back into her. All the pain and longing, the fire and rage, the numbness and loneliness. It was to much, these feelings, she felt like she was drowning in them, she needed to get out, get as far away as possible.

She was dressed and out the door, practically running down the halls to the closest balcony. The door was already open for her, the breeze welcoming her as she shifted and leapt of the edge, flying into the sunrise beyond.

She didn’t turn back, didn’t look to see the male who’s gaze she could feel like a brand across her back.

Two days had passed since Azriel watched her take off from the balcony across the house. He’d nearly flown after her, with how fast she was he wasn’t sure he’d even be able to catch her. But instead he just watched, watched as his mate flew as fast and as far away from him as she possibly could.

He’d waited for hours, scanning the skies for that majestic hawk form, but she didn’t come back. The bond grew fainter and fainter as she drifted farther and farther away. That was when the panic had set in. She didn’t know these lands, the creatures within, the fae who lurked in the shadows. Y/n was a warrior, a talented one at that, yet Azriel couldn’t help the fear that she would be hurt.

Cassian had found him on that ledge, had forced him inside, had forced him to eat, to sit down and gods damned breathe for a minute. And he’d stayed with him the rest of the day, through the night and the day after. The only thing that kept Azriel from losing control completely was that thread, no matter how faint, he could still feel her on the other side.

She was alive, burning, those swirling emotions screaming down the bond. Anger, despair, loneliness, longing, fear, so many emotions that mirrored everything Azriel felt. He wondered how much of it was her and how much of it was him.

By the end of the second day, sheer exhaustion had him falling into bed, his brother closing the door behind him to go find his own bed, his mate in it. Azriel was to tired to say anything, even the thank you Cassian deserved for staying with him, for holding him together.

Sleep took him, and he welcomed the blissful darkness.

Wake up, wake, she’s back, wake up, she’s here, outside, back. His body jolts, startled awake by the whispering shadows around his head. Even without them telling him, he knew she was back, could feel her close on the other side of that tether. Closer and closer she grew, coming down the hall towards him. He didn’t think, didn’t stop, just ran to the door, hauling it open to see her standing there, her back turned to him, hand resting on her own door.

“Where the fuck have you been?”

His voice is gravely, still heavy with sleep and lingering emotions that comes to the forefront as soon as her scent hits him.

“None of your business.” It lacks her usual snark, no heat behind it, “It’s late, I’m tired.”

His hand moves on its own, fingers wrapping around her bicep and pulling, rougher than he meant to be but in that moment he didn’t have it in him to care. He’d spent the last two days worrying, scared shitless over where she could be, he couldn’t control the fierce heat that rose in his blood.

She looks up at him, eyes ice cold, “What do you want?”

“Where have you been?” He repeats, each word sharp and short, “You can’t just disappear for two days and expect me to just-“

“Oh fuck off,” she snarls, “I don’t owe you shit, shadowsinger.”

He can feel the spark of anger in her, and it mirrors his own. She’d ran away, flown off to who knows where, and left him. She left him.

“It’s a simple question, Princess.” He pulls her closer to him, looking down at her, “Why do you have to make everything so difficult.”

She gives him one of those sweet little smiles that makes him see red, makes the reins on his control snap. His hand shoots up, wrapping behind her neck and gripping a handful of her hair, pulling so she’s looking up at him. Her mouth opens, most likely to yell at him, to snarl and snap those lethal teeth at his throat, but he doesn’t give her the chance.

Their lips crash together, viciously devouring each other. Azriel pours every emotion he had felt in the past few days into it, the heat and anger, the despair and loneliness, the desire. He decided then that he didn’t care, he would take what she would give him, would be her distraction, would lay his soul bear for her, would let her rip his heart from his chest to bring it with her when she left him behind. He didn’t care that it would kill him to let her leave, to let her leave and never know that he was her mate, he didn’t care, he needed her, needed to feel her, to worship her.

He holds her to him, wrapping one arm around her waist, the other gripping her hair to keep her exactly where he wants her. Her hand grips his arm, nails digging into the flesh, her other grabs the collar of his shirt and pulls him impossibly closer.

There was no softness, no gentle touch and soft passion, it was hard and painful. Her teeth drawing blood from his lip where she bites him, his hand bruising her sides where he holds her.

“You’re a fucking prick,” she snarls against him, pulling away just enough that he can still feel her lips against his.

The hand in her hair roughly pulls, forcing her back so that he can look her in the eyes, he notes the small moan that she tries to hold back, “You’re infuriating, Princess.”

She presses closer to him and he almost hisses at the contact, “I can feel just how infuriated you are, shadowsinger.”

He lets go of her hair, reaching down to her thighs to hoist her up. Her legs wrap around his hips as he presses her body into the door behind her. The sound she makes almost brings him to his knees. He can feel her pressed against him, his cock straining in his leathers.

“I can’t stand you.” Her head falls back against the door, letting him trail his lips and tongue down her throat, “You insufferable male."

He finds her pulse and nips at the sensitive spot. It draws a heady sigh from her lips, he does it again just so he can hear that sweet sound. She claws at his back as he wraps is lips around that spot, writhing against him as he leaves a deep purple mark. Azriel has to grip her thighs even harder to keep her still, or he’d lose his mind completely and take her against the wall.

“Gods,” she pants, “Azriel please.”

He kisses that claiming mark, “Please what, Princess?”

She lets out a soft growl, pushing his face away from her neck. Her lips find his again, her nails digging painfully into his cheek. He groans into it and holds her up with one arm, using the other to unlatch the door. It swings open and he takes them inside, slamming it shut behind him. Only the soft moon light illuminates the space, Azriel doesn’t need it to find her bed.

He practically throws her onto the center of it, grinning at the feral hiss she lets out, “I’m not a damned rag doll, you bastard.”

Y/n props herself up on her elbows, looking up at him with those eyes on fire. She looks delicious in the soft light, hair a mess, lips swollen, that mark on her neck a deep dark purple. A sick sense of purely male pride overwhelms him, she would walk around with that bruise for days, and everyone would know she belonged to him.

“No of course not,” he smirks, slowly crawling onto the bed, over her, caging her in, “A rag doll wouldn’t talk back this much.”

“I hate you,” she sighs, glaring up at him.

“That’s fine.” It wasn’t, it was the opposite of fine. “You can hate me all you want.”

He doesn’t let her respond, doesn’t let her wield that poison tipped tongue to open the wound in his heart anymore. Instead, his scarred hands grip the soft material of her shirt and rips.

Azriel groans at the sight, and Y/n gasps as the chilled air drifts across her exposed chest. Soft and perfect, large and heavy, Azriel takes her in, the valley between that leads down to her belly, the curve of her waist, he devours her with his eyes. Her arms lift to cover herself but his fingers wrap around her wrists and pins them roughly above her head. He wouldn’t let her hide from him.

“Beautiful, so gods damned perfect,” he growls, leaning down to capture one of the peaks in his mouth.

Her back arches off the bed, pressing closer to his tongue, to his teeth that pinch the little bud, drawing a sharp gasp from her. He keeps her wrists in one hand, the other trailing down to her chest, gripping the soft flesh in his palm and squeezing. He groans against her, keeping his hold on her wrist despite the way she writhes and pulls against him. The most devastatingly melodic sounds fall from her lips, moans and pleading sighs.

“What do you want, Princess?” He asks, trailing kisses across her soft skin, leaving those claiming bruises as he goes, “Tell me what you want.”

“More,” she groans, hissing when he takes a nipple between his fingers, squeezing and rolling it without mercy, “More, I need more, I need to touch you.”

He grins, “Don’t be greedy, Princess.”

She growls and pulls against the hold on her wrists, desperately trying to break free of his iron grip. Of course she’d fight him, even now when he was ready to lay the world at her feet, she would fight him. He lets her win, lets her rip her hands from his, lets her use those claws to rip at his shirt, tearing it from his body like he’d done to her.

“Did that make you feel better?” He taunts, smirking at the way her eyes take him in.

“Shut up.”

Her hands trace the tattoos across his chest, nails dragging across him with just enough pressure to draw a hiss from his lips. Violent, wicked, beautiful. She was perfect, so damned perfect.

He drops his lips to the valley between her breasts, kissing down the plane of her stomach while his fingers deftly work at the ties of her leathers. Her hands drag through his hair, tugging at the strands as she gasps and moans at every touch.

Azriel makes quick work of her leathers, roughly tugging them down her thighs, throwing them behind them without care. Her scent washes over him, sweet arousal that has him growling low in his chest. The delicate black fabric covering her center is easy to tear off her body, revealing all of her to him.

“Look at you,” he groans, sitting back on his heels so he could see all of her, “Perfect, absolutely perfect.”

“I told you I was your type,” she breathes, that saccharine on her lips.

Azriel shifts, placing himself directly between her legs, his scarred hands pushing apart her thighs so he could see her dripping for him. His fingers dig into her strong thighs, more bruises for her to wear.

“Az,” she whines, glaring through her heavy lidded eyes, “don’t just stare, do some-“

Her pleas turn into desperate moans as he drops his head to her, laying down between her thighs so he can properly worship her. He runs is tongue directly over her center, tasting her like she was his last meal to savor. So impossibly sweet, her taste has him growling against her.

“Fuck, Az,” Y/n practically screams, rolling her hips as his tongue circles the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs.

He could do this for hours, flattening his tongue against her, sucking, biting, bringing out those noises that sound like music to his ears. The hands in his hair pull and push like she can’t tell if she needs him closer or to stop, he has to pin her to the bed with his arm to stop her from writhing away.

He can feel her on the other side of the bond no matter how hard he tries to dampen in, can feel the intense pleasure, it ripples through him, making him strain against his leathers uncomfortably. He has to press his hips into the bed to relieve some of the pain of it.

“Gods damnit,” she gasps, “Az, I- fuck.”

He’s half tempted to taunt her for the way she stumbles over the words, but to do that he’d have to take his mouth off of her and he wasn’t willing to do that. Instead, he takes is free hand, softly tracing it up her thigh, until it’s posed at her entrance. He uses a single scarred finger, dragging it through her wetness. Her hips desperately try to chase the digit and he laughs against her, sending a shiver through her at the vibration.

“Please,” she begs, and it’s the sweetest sound he’d ever heard, “Az, please.”

Azriel doesn’t hesitate to plunge into her, groaning at the feeling, grinding his cock into the bed. She’s moaning and cursing as he curls his finger to find that spot inside that would make her see stars, that would have her coming undone on his tongue. When she screams his name, he knows he’s found it and he keeps brushing the spot over and over as his mouth devours her clit. He adds a second finger, the tight stretch around them nearly enough to send him over the edge.

“Az, don’t stop,” Y/n gasps, head thrown back in pleasure, “please I-“

There on the other side of that tendril of shadow he feels the band in the pit of her stomach tighten and tighten. His tongue flattens against her, his fingers curl, and that band snaps.

He doesn’t stop, keeps rolling his tongue over her, keeps moving his fingers as the shocks run through her, his arm pinning her down as she writhes beneath him. Wave after wave after wave until she’s pulling away from him, trying to escape the pleasure that slowly turns into delicious pain.

“Az, please,” Y/n sobs, “I can’t, fuck, please.”

It takes more effort than he’s willing to admit to pry himself away, the way she gasps as his fingers pull out of her makes him want to go right back in. Addictive, she is absolutely addictive.

Y/n goes limp beneath him, panting like she’d ran a marathon, he’s half tempted to tease her for that too if she didn’t look so tired. Eyes heavy like she was fighting to stay awake.

It only hits him then that she had been out, Mother knows where, for days, flying far enough away that he could barely feel her through the bond. She had to be exhausted, and Azriel had throughly worn out any energy she might have had left.

He pulls away, tugging down the rumpled sheets. She doesn’t acknowledge what he’s doing, not until he’s carefully wrapping his arms around her, one behind her back the other below her legs. She’s almost limp in his arm as he gently lays her at the head of the bed.

“What are you doing?” She asks, voice hoarse, “What about you?”

His cock was begging for attention, begging for her hand, for her mouth, for her cunt. He’d need to take care of himself to get rid of the aching need.

Azriel brings the duvet up to her chin, “I’m fine, Princess. You need to sleep.”

“But-“

He grins down at her, leaning down to brush his lips across her cheek, “Don’t worry, I’m not done with you yet. I have a whole list of ways to ravish you. You’ll be begging me to let you sleep.”

A soft whine, “Az, I want-“

“Sleep, Princess.” He stands, moving towards the door, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Azriel has to force himself to take each step away from her when everything in him is screaming for him to turn around and take everything she had to offer. His shadows plead with him to stop, to do just that, pulling back towards her against the tight reins he keeps on them.

“Az.” The softest whisper, he almost doesn’t hear it, “Stay, please.”

Y/n looks at him, those eyes still heavy with sleep and an emotion so raw, so open, that he can’t help it when he says, “Of course, Princess.”

Tag list

@inloveallthetime , @microwaveallthedemons , @nayaniasworld , @thecraziestcrayon , @fightmedraco , @blackgirlmagicforever , @nikt-wazny-y , @fangirlloza010 , @thisiskaylin , @wolfgirl624 , @khaleesihavilliard , @fluffy-bnny , @mariahoedt , @durgenyx , @glitterypirateduck , @byyalady , @amberlynn98 , @ferrarisbitch , @a-cup-of-nightshade , @breella , @hnnybee0 , @superspideyparker , @that-one-little-soybean , @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife , @websterss , @sassybluebird , @fakesocialmediaa , @balsalmic-vinegar , @lees-chaotic-brain , @yashiw , @a-mexican-waffle , @thefairlyaveragegatsby , @tele86 , @emidpsandia , @nickishadow139 , @basicwhiterat

#these two have zero idea how to properly communicate #gone is that soft early morning talk #we’re here for the pure horniness #also I have written smut like once before so let me know if this is trash or not #you cannot convince me that Azriel is not a brat tamer #Rhys was wrong when he said Az is not the ravishing type #acotar #azriel x reader #acotar x reader #azriel #rowaelin daughter #rowaelin #not again

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ghosttotheparty · 1 year

Text

based on this post of mine bc i had thoughts // tw surgery mention, anaesthesia, hospital environment (not detailed its just there)

“And who are you?”

Steve pauses by the door, setting his jacket on the back of the chair next to Wayne. He looks over at Eddie, laying in his bed, covered in a blanket, his hair a messy halo around his head. His eyes are shining brightly, staring intently at Steve.

“He’s very high,” Wayne says to Steve, smiling softly.

“Yeah, I got that,” Steve says, watching Eddie roll slightly, groaning loudly. “Surgery went well?”

“Went fine,” Wayne says lightly, and Steve can see the relief in him as he leans back, eyes watching Eddie like he’s scared to look away.

“Eds?” Steve says, moving closer to the bed. “How was surgery?”

“Was fu-u-un…”

“Yeah? You had fun?”

Eddie hums affirmatively, and Steve crouches next to the bed, looking at him. There’s a bandage on his cheek, and the sight of it makes Steve’s chest ache, but Eddie’s eyes are shining brightly, glazed over as he blinks at Steve.

“Whoa,” he breathes dramatically, and Steve suppresses a smile.

“What?”

Eddie lifts a hand, and it lands heavily on the side of Steve’s face, making him recoil slightly even as he laughs. Eddie’s fingers press into his skin, kneading his cheek.

“You’re fuckin’ beautiful.”

Steve’s eyebrows fly up, and his face burns as he hears Wayne laugh quietly behind him.

“Am I?”

Eddie hums again, smiling brightly, deliriously, wriggling as he shakes Steve’s face.

“Pretty boy,” he mumbles. “Pretty, pretty, pretty boy.” He releases his cheek to boop his nose a little too hard. “Who are you?”

“I’m Steve.”

“Ste-e-e-eve…” Eddie blinks at him, poking his face again. “Stevie, Stevie, Stevie.”

“Hi, Eddie,” Steve says softly.

“Princess Stevie,” Eddie slurs happily.

“Princess?”

“Mm. Princess. Pretty princess.”

Wayne laughs quietly behind Steve, and Steve turns to glare at him over his shoulder. He’s rubbing his forehead and smiling amusedly, and Steve starts to open his mouth to speak, but Eddie grabs at his face again, pulling him to face him.

Eddie’s eyes are almost closed, like his eyelids are heavy, and his fingers are petting at Steve’s cheek and jaw, rubbing his stubble. (He hasn’t shaved. He’s been too stressed. He was planning on shaving tonight after getting firm confirmation that Eddie is okay, but if Eddie likes it…)

Eddie lets go of his cheek and boops his nose a little to hard. And then he does it again, and again, humming a song that Steve doesn’t recognize.

“Do you like boys?” Eddie asks abruptly, his fingertip lingering on the tip of Steve’s nose. Wayne barks out a laugh behind Steve, and Steve’s face burns, and for some reason, even though Eddie isn’t going to remember this and Wayne is right there, Steve says, “Yes, I do.”

Eddie’s face lights up, and he tries to sit up, but Steve gently keeps him down, murmuring a soft, “Stay here, Eddie.”

“You do?” Eddie asks hopefully, flopping back down and looking up at Steve, who suppresses a smile, nodding.

“Yeah.”

Eddie’s eyes widen and he turns his face into his pillow, reaching up to pull his hair across his face shyly, shifting and fidgeting and wiggling, and Steve gazes fondly, contently. He hasn’t felt this calm in a good long while.

“Can I have a kiss?” Eddie asks shyly, and Steve raises his eyebrows. “Please.”

“You’re high, Eddie.”

“I’ve been higher,” Eddie says, his voice slurring, mumbly. Steve just looks at him for a moment, watching his eyes shine. “Please? I’ll be good.”

Steve’s stomach flutters, and he exhales, hesitating before he turns to look at Wayne, who’s still watching, smiling absently with his face resting on his hand. Steve raises his eyebrows, shrugging weakly, asking silently what to do as Eddie’s hand touches his cheek again.

Wayne shrugs, his smile growing, and then he points to his forehead with another shrug, and Steve sighs.

He turns back to face Eddie, who’s gazing at him blearily, his eyes glazed over.

“I won’t kiss your mouth,” Steve starts, cracking a smile when Eddie’s lips pout, his lower lip poking out, shining. “But I’ll kiss your forehead if you want.”

Eddie beams.

“Yes, please.”

Steve smiles, licks his lips, shifting on the ground as Eddie smiles up at him.

“Don’t move,” he says firmly, and Eddie nods, his body tightening and his eyes closing. He’s still smiling.

Steve takes a moment to gaze at him. At the lines in his skin from his smile, at his dark eyelashes and chapped lips. (Which Steve will kiss when he’ll be able to remember it.)

He brushes Eddie’s bangs back carefully, and Eddie inhales, his smile growing even more somehow, and then he leans close, pressing his lips to his forehead softly, leaving a lingering kiss on his skin.

Eddie sighs, still lying stiffly, unmoving, being good like he said he would, and when Steve pulls away to look at him, his cheeks are flushed pink. A second passes before Eddie's eyes flutter open, and then he's smiling so brightly his eyes are squeezing shut, and he rolls away a little bit, letting out an excited squeal that makes Steve burst into laughter.

"Wayne," Eddie calls, rolling over and looking across the room at Wayne, who's laughing even harder than Steve, covering his face with a hand. "A pretty boy kissed me, d'ya see?"

"I saw, Eds, 'm happy for you."

Eddie giggles deliriously and rolls over again, wiggling, and Steve presses his face to the side of his bed, his face hot, because even though it was Wayne's fucking idea, he forgot Wayne was watching him press the softest kiss humanly possible to Eddie's forehead, was probably watching his gaze at him before it. But Wayne is laughing, amused, and probably relieved to be hearing Eddie giggle and squeal happily after worrying for so long.

"Alright," Steve says after taking a moment to collect himself, reaching up and pulling at Eddie's shoulder. "You're gonna pull your stitches, honey, lay still."

"Honey," Eddie repeats, his eyes shining brightly, the bandage on his cheek wrinkling as his cheeks squish up under his smile. "Honey, honey, honey, honey..."

Steve's face burns again.

"You're so sweet, Stevie," Eddie says lightly, his voice mumbly. "Sweet boy. Sweetheart. Cotton candy boy."

"Cotton candy boy," Steve repeats under his breath, and Eddie hums affirmatively.

"Cotton candy. Sweet. Hubba Bubba. Bubblegum baby."

"He's a poet," Wayne quips behind Steve, and Steve turns to glare at him, but he can't fully suppress the smile that's making his face sore. Eddie is still mumbling to himself, now reaching up to rub Steve's face again.

"Sweet like iced tea. Like a lollipop." He giggles to himself, pressing his fingers into Steve's cheek again. "Wanna lick you."

A laugh bursts out of Wayne, and Steve's face floods with heat.

"Oh my god."

Eddie giggles.

He asks to hold Steve's hand after rambling a little while longer, after comparing Steve to cake frosting and strawberries and honeysuckle blossoms, and Steve lets him take it, watches their fingers lace and twist together, and Wayne finally brings a chair over to him with Eddie doesn't want to let go. Wayne kisses Eddie's head when he says goodnight, and then he kisses the top of Steve's. It makes Steve's eyes burn and fill with tears that he refuses to let fall until after the door's shut behind Wayne.

Eddie asks if he's okay, eyes filled with concern, and his fingers tighten on Steve's. Steve wipes his face and smiles, telling him he's fine. No one's kissed me like that in a long while. Eddie sighs and relaxes, still gazing at him. Tells him Wayne does it all the time, and he'd probably do it to Steve if he wants him to.

"I can kiss you like that if you want," he offers kindly, sleepily. Steve raises his hand to his lips and kisses his knuckles.

"Tomorrow."

"Okay."

(Eddie doesn't remember anything when he wakes up the next day, but when he opens his eyes to find Steve resting his head next to him on his bed and Steve's fingers twisted around his, he certainly doesn't complain.)

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