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gojowsddy · 3 months

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Tipsy Invitation

𖨆♡𖨆 Rafayel x fem!reader

: ̗̀➛ you planned to host a party for your friends at Rafayel's place, but everyone has cancel due to the sudden heavy snow. The party decor is pointless now, and you end up trapped by the storm in Rafayel's home...(inspired by rafayel's veiled whisper five star memory)

: ̗̀➛ TW: nsfw content, bondage, porn with plot, riding, fingering

: ̗̀➛ word count: 2.8k+

We spent countless hours decorating Rafayel's house for a party that turned out to be a complete waste of time due to the blizzard. You are sitting on the floor in front of the couch. You can feel the weight of exhaustion bearing down on you as you wearily take a sip of the delicious wine. You gaze out the window, watching the snow falling and wondering how long the storm will last.

"Can this really be a party when it's only us?" You murmured, taking in the tantalising aroma of the cake and red wine wafting through the air.

"You're right. It's a date then." Rafayel's lips curled into a sly smile as he teased.

"Those are two different things...!"

Rafayel chuckles, loving your flustered reaction, "Hold off on the alcohol for now. Didn't you prepare a lot of party games? Shouldn't we play first?"

"They're meant to be played with a lot of people.. I've practised my dance moves-"

As Rafayel strolls over to the radio, you notice a mischievous glint in his eyes. A soft, soothing melody emanates from the speakers, and he extends his hand towards you.

As the music fills the air, Rafayel pulls you close, his arms wrapping around your waist. Moving in perfect harmony, he leads you across the dance floor. With each step, his touch sends shivers down your spine, and you can feel your breaths mingling together, the heady aroma of red wine. It's as if you are under a spell, lost in the moment, lost in each other. The world around you fades away, leaving just the two of you, joined together by an unbreakable thread of intoxication.

"Is this how you imagined the party would be?"

"...I don't know."

"Well, it's exactly what I had in mind. Buuut you'll probably feel a little queasy after drinking and spinning around, yeah?"

His hands rest on the small of your back, and his warmth seeps through the fabric of my clothes.

You can't tell if the heat is because of our dance or is it because of him.

You can only think about the scent of red wine.

You can feel his shirt against your body and his slow caresses on the back of your hand. They all seem to overwhelm your senses. Making you feel the dampening wetness growing in your panties.

"I'm feeling... a little thirsty," you muttered, trying to ignore the arousal that is burning inside you. Rafayel beckoned you towards the window and gestured over to the mini-fridge. He starts rummaging through its contents, searching for the perfect drink to quench our thirst.

"What do you wanna drink? There is some sweet stuff. Or maybe something light? Oh, I see sparkling water here."

"How about you mix one of your special drinks? I remember we've stocked up on plenty of cocktail ingredients." Your heart skips a beat as Rafayel looks my way, a mischievous grin playing on his lips while he tilts his head.

"My dear guest, alcohol isn't gonna make you less thirsty. You'll just be more drunk."

"Then make me something refreshing and won't get me drunker, please."

"If you insist. I'll do my best. Give me a moment."

Rafayel's hands moved with the precision of a seasoned bartender, as he grabbed two glass bottles and gave them a once-over. You found yourself captivated by the way he scooped some ice cubes and added them to the shaker. His hand closed around the shaker, holding it tightly as he gave it a vigorous shake. You couldn't help but notice how attractive his hands were. As you were lost in thought, a colourful, icy beverage appeared before you, snapping yourself back to reality.

"What's this?"

"It's sparkling fruit juice. And the best part? It quenches your thirst without getting you drunk. The bad news is that there is no alcohol."

"I ordered a cocktail. If there's no cocktail then what's the point."

"Sorry, sorry, the bartender here plays it by ear." Rafayel places a hand over his chest, leaning slightly to look apologetic. All the while, he wears a smile clearly for the spectacle.

"Well it's delicious, but it's still not what I ordered. If you can't make me another drink, you need to compensate me in a way that makes me happy." You decided to play along with his game. With a fierce expression on your face, you pushed your finger against Rafayel's chest, causing him to lose his balance and stumble backwards into a nearby chair. Breathing heavily, you watched him nudge a present away with his foot before taking my hand and giving me a troubled look.

"How should I make it up to you, my dear customer~?"

"Well..." Suppressing a grin, you reach for the satin ribbon that's been carelessly draped over the back of the chair. You move slowly around Rafayel, taking in his every detail. The way his broad shoulders fill out his crisp white shirt, the hint of stubble on his chiselled jawline, and the intense look in his purple-pink eyes. As you make a few more rounds, you start to wrap the ribbon around his torso, feeling the heat emanating from his body. The crimson colour of the ribbon is almost mesmerising, darker than the rich wine you had been drinking earlier.

"I choose you."

You hold the delicate ribbon, trying to tie it into a perfect bow. That's when you notice Rafayel's piercing gaze on you, and your heart races with anticipation. With a sly smile, he breaks the silence with a soft chuckle, "All right. Consider it compensation. I'm yours for the taking."

"...Why do I feel like I'm walking into a trap? I can't blindly accept this gift." The ribbons fall onto Rafayel. But because you denied him, an invisible tension grabs him. A strange playfulness is ignited in his gaze like he's about to pounce.

"You haven't even started unwrapping me. Am I gonna be thrown away just like that?"

"Oh, but I've seen this gift before. I don't need to unwrap it to know what it is."

"Really? You..you think you have me all figured out, do you?"

You realised that there was no need for me to answer the question. It was evident that he already knew the answer and what he was trying to achieve. At that moment, your fingers slowly crept behind the back of the chair, reaching for the stem of a rose that was resting there. Its deep, rich colour reminded me of a fine wine, and you couldn't resist picking it up and twirling it between your fingers.

"Hmm, I wonder where that came from."

You were sorely tempted to slap the cocky grin right off his face. However, you decided to be somewhat gracious and extend him a bit of kindness for the evening. Taking the rose that was in your hand, you gently rubbed it over Rafayel's sensitive ears, which were visibly flushed with heat. The redness that had overtaken his ears began to spread to his cheeks, creating a vivid flush that was impossible to ignore. You felt a sense of satisfaction at the sight of it.

"mhm..a-always, full of surprises, huh. You're good at catching people off guard." His breath hitched. A whimper escaped him, creating a symphony of desire that wrapped around you like an intoxicating mist.

You couldn't control the growing wetness in your pants and the anticipation of wanting to just fuck him on the spot was so irresistible. You wanted to tease him more and more. With a rose in your hand, you ran it across his chest, making him feel the petals brush against his clothed skin. You gently rubbed against where his nipples would be.

"n-ngh..mhm...I'm not sure who's suffering more - me or the flower." Rafayel squirmed restlessly on his chair, the soft petals of the rose that he had rubbed to his nipples caused him to release a breathy moan. It was so clear that his nipples were peeking through his shirt.

"C-can't you be a little more gentle?" His body is lumped restlessly on the chair, struggling to catch his breath while also trying to contain the growing pressure in his crotch. Your gaze follows the visible signs of arousal, starting at his flushed face and moving down to his throbbing cock poking against the fabric of his pants unsuccessfully hiding its desire. He shifts impatiently on the seat, clearly unable to resist the urge any longer. The sight of him struggling with both physical discomfort and overwhelming arousal only adds to your arousal. You can feel your heart rate accelerate as you watch him fidget and fight against the temptation.

"W-worried about b-breaking me? I'm not that fragile." He looked at me with begging eyes. You felt even more excited about the idea of 'breaking' him. However, thoughts lingered about not being enough to reach his satisfaction.

"Are you still concerned? I'm down for a slow, thorough inspection."

Your hand reaches around the back of the chair and your face meets with Rafayel, there is a sudden flash of light and a rush of energy that courses through your body. Your lips connect with his as you kiss him deeply inserting your tongue in his mouth, taking full control of his mouth. He feels warm against your skin, almost like it's pulsing with energy.

"All right, that's enough. I'll let you off the hook. Let me untie this - " Your eyes widened seeing that Rafayel grabbed your arm.

"When did you untie yourself?" A lump in your throat blocked you from speaking as your heart started racing so fast.

"You know there are plenty of old escape techniques on the Internet," Rafayel smirked, dragging your arm, and forcing you to sit on his lap. Your legs were shorter compared to Rafayel's long legs, making you spread your thighs and expose your wet panties.

Rafayel watches you intently, his gaze locked onto your every move. His cock throbs insistently against your panties. Despite knowing that giving in to your desires would mean submitting fully to Rafayel's control, the thought of riding his hardness is becoming increasingly captivating.

As you continue to struggle against his lap, your hands quickly find their way around Rafayel's neck. Your body starts to force itself to grind harshly onto his lap.

Your head fell back, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck. Your body forcefully presses against his lap, grinding with intensity. Your actions grow more desperate, as you feel yourself descending further into a state of bliss.

Rafayel's body was writhing with desire, his moans of pleasure echoing through the room. His eyes were dark and filled with lust, his cheeks flushed with red and the intensity of his need was noticeable. You could feel his stare on you, hot and hungry.

"pleasepleaseplease....raff...I want more-" you whined. Now it's Rafayel's turn to bring you down.

He slowly unzipped his jeans and lowered his boxers. As he freed his cock, you couldn't help but gasp in surprise at the sheer size of it. It was thick and throbbing, with a deep red tip that looked almost painful and the precum leaking down his tip. Your own body trembled with anticipation as he began to stroke himself, his movements slow and deliberate.

With a low growl, Rafayel closed the distance between you, his hand still working his shaft. He pressed his body against yours, his lips hot on your neck as he whispered dirty promises in your ear. You could feel his erection pressing against you, and you knew that you wanted nothing more than to feel him inside me.

"please..r-rafayel..please.." you begged him desperately.

"hah..where did your confidence go..beg for it," he has that cocky grin again and you don't want to fall for it but you wanted him so bad right now.

"please..raf..fuck me...I want your dick inside me...make me your cumdump..pleasepleaseplease-" As he moved closer to you, you could feel your heart racing with anticipation. Your mind was a blur, unable to focus on anything except the overwhelming desire that was coursing through your body.

He snooks his fingers underneath your skirt, squishing one of your asscheeks before slapping it harshly. With his hand wrapped securely on your waist while his other hand plays with your panties. Pulling them side to side aiming for your sensitive area, making you attempt to close your thighs.

He brushed his fingers against your pants, pushing them aside to reveal your soaking cunt. His fingers traced along your clit, making you arch your back into him as he continued to rub your clit. It made it more difficult to shut your legs together.

"Here that? It's fucking soaking wet for me." He chuckles, making you bite your lips to not suppress a moan.

He enters both of his fingers into your cunt, you feel a rush of heat flood your body, making it impossible to think straight. You couldn't stop the whine that came out loudly and arched your back even more. In split seconds, Rafayel's fingers sped up his pace thrusting into you harshly, sending waves of pleasure through your body with every movement.

His fingers worked amazing the way he curled the tip of his fingers, successfully finding your g-spot and in seconds you were in a moaning mess, toes curled, head tilted to the side, it was driving you insane.

The silence was only filled with your moans and whines, which got louder every second, and the wet noises coming from your pussy. You begged him to go faster, desperate to reach your climax, but he refused to give you what you wanted. Instead, he pulled his hand away, leaving you gasping for air and trembling with frustration.

"Not gonna let you cum that quick," he said with a cunning smirk on his face. "I'll tell you when you can cum."

The anticipation was almost too much to bear, but you knew that the wait would be worth-

He thrust his cock into you, leaving you no time to think. You felt a surge of pleasure that left you moaning uncontrollably. It was stretching you out so much and it isn't even halfway in. You felt so full and so stuffed.

You waited for him to do something but he was only staring at your desperate reaction.

"W-what..what are you doing? Please move..plea-" Before you could finish your sentence Rafayel thrust his dick into you, making his dick press against your cervix. Rafayel's sudden movement caught you off guard, causing you to scream.

The sensation sent waves of pleasure throughout your body, and you instinctively arched your back in response to the intense stimulation. Your hands grab a fistful of his shirt trying to resist the pain.

You moaned loudly as you felt the weight of his thick shaft filling you up completely, your tight pussy clenching around his length.

"I-I...can't..t-take it any more..too f-full-" you couldn't form proper words as Rafayel continues to thrust his dick into you.

"Y-ye-..fuck..yes you can. L-loosen up, will you?" He stutters. Your gummy walls were making him absurd. The way it is sucking him in. The way it tightly suffocates his tip. He wraps his arms around your body, his chin lays on your shoulder and his eyes tightly shut. He just wants to stuff you full with his cum.

Rafayel couldn't control his thoughts. He suddenly manhandles you and forces you to be on the chair. Before you open your mouth to say something, he starts rummaging his dick in you. Forcefully, thrusting all his power into you. Your back is arched in a perfect 'C' shape and your toes are curled as he continuously fucks you hard. You couldn't stop moaning it was so fucking good sogoodsogoodsogood~. With each thrust, you felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.

"I-i'm closee...imcloseimclose..please..let me cum..please," you begged. Rafayel could explode right now from the look of your pleading face.

"Cum."

As Rafayel continued to thrust into you, you felt the string in your belly snap. The sensation was intense, and you couldn't help but close your eyes tightly shut. You were completely lost in the moment, and your body was responding uncontrollably. Your breath became ragged as you called out his name repeatedly, riding the waves of pleasure that coursed through you.

Your chest heaved up and down as you tried to catch your breath, but Rafayel wasn't done yet. He continued to shove himself inside you, his movements becoming more urgent and forceful. His tip pressed against your cervix, a noticeable bulge poking through your abdomen, adding to the intense pleasure you were experiencing.

He was overstimulating you too much, you couldn't help but whine, "T-too much..please..i-its too much.."

But your pleas fell on deaf ears as Rafayel continues to fuck you to reach his own climax.

As he continued to thrust into you, you felt your body respond in ways you never thought possible. Every nerve ending was on fire, and you were completely lost in the moment. You surrendered yourself to the pleasure, letting it consume you completely.

Finally, with one last thrust, Rafayel reached his own peak, cum squirted all over your stomach and collapsed onto you. You and Rafayel were left panting and gasping for air, your body still sticky and trembling.

"I-I’ll get you back, Rafayel.."

p.s: This is my first smut writing. Please tell me how it is and any tips on improving.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace rafayel #smut #fem!reader #rafayel #minors dni #rafayel x mc #rafayel x reader #rafayel smut

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r0ttenhearts · 9 months

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cold greetings

cheater! scaramouche x reader

sypnosis: after taking scaramouche back from a nasty breakup-situationship he isn’t the same

warnings: cheating, angst, mean scara

“scara?” your voice almost trembled, seeing him standing on your doorstep. his cheeks and nose were reddened from the cold but a sorrowed look graced his features. he looked as if he had been crying, dark streaks down his cheeks as his cold hand gripped onto the hand you held against the door.

“(y/n)..” he whispered, gaze onto the snowy white carpet of snow on your steps. the lingering resentment held awkwardly in the air. it was almost like an unspoken promise.

the anger and resentment you still held for him kept you guarded. his tears wouldn’t sway you. not this time.

“i just, i wanna talk to you. you don’t have to say anything but i have to say this to you, or i’m afraid i’ll never get a chance to again.” he spoke softly, almost tenderly. it was as if the cruelty he had hurled towards you not too long ago never happened.

“okay. talk, but then you’re out.” you hesitantly stood aside and let his shaking figure inside. it almost felt nostalgic to see him sitting at your kitchen table again. the pink on his cheeks and the thick scarf around his neck did nothing to hide the feeling you got seeing him like this, once again.

taking a seat in front of him, you noticed the way he wouldn’t meet your gaze. his focus on his fingernails, lap, the salt shaker, anything but you.

he let out a heavy sigh before looking up at you. his eye bags seemed darker than they were the last time you saw him.

“i know i have no excuse to be here. i shouldn’t be, i know that. i hate how we ended things (y/n). it’s been you and i for years, and i miss you. i miss having you around, i miss seeing your face and hearing your voice.” a shake exhale left his lips as he sat there. guilt written all across his face. “i shouldn’t have left you that way (y/n). not when you needed me the most.” he whispered the last part, knowing how much he had hurt you.

how much he had fucked up.

memories of that night flashed back to your mind. his anger, that glare he held as he tormented you with the details of the new girl that occupied his mind. his loud laughs at your feeble attempt to show him that you didn’t need him.

it still hurt, even now. you shook your head, feeling that familiar pain again. “i can’t just forgive you scara. that was really fucked up.”

“i know (y/n), and i’m sorry. i really am. it’s just.. i’ve been thinking about it more with the holiday’s coming up. i don’t want to start a year without you in my life.”

you bit your lip back at that. your sense of nostalgia was something that kept you with him for as long as you did. you yearned for the comfort of the past, begged for it. it was the one thing that felt safe, memories.

with some reluctance, you let him back into your life. he seemed different. he was more willing to do activities with you, things he had refused to do once before. some of his belongings had found a place in your home. it felt good to be around him. almost as if you two were young again, discovering the deeper parts of your relationship together as foolish teens.

but.. if it felt so good why was he so distant now? you paused, standing in the doorway of his bedroom. it was dark except for the bright game on his monitor illuminating a corner of his room, headset on his ears as he clicked away. not paying you any mind.

“hey, scara? you said tonight we could watch—“

“i do not care (y/n). let me play my damn game, won’t you? i have more important things to do than watch something i don’t care about because of your whining.”

oh. oh. without another word you slipped away, quietly leaving his apartment. if he wanted to be alone so bad he could have his alone time. to hell with him! you thought to yourself. you wouldn’t spill any tears, not this time.

you went to bed alone that night. hugging yourself and wondering why he had to repeat history, once again. you had lost count of how many times this had happened before. he would always come crawling back to you once his life fell apart, using your weakness for the bittersweet past you’d longed for.

sighing, you rolled over on your side. you wouldn’t bother him anymore, not with how things were going. you were done with him. done!

you tensed at the feeling of cold hands around your waist, warm breath hitting the nape of your neck as your bed dipped slightly behind you. “i’m sorry (y/n).. that was a dick move.”

you scoffed, shrugging his hand off of your shoulder as best as you could. “i’m tired of this scara.” you said quietly. “i’m tired of you doing this to me. it’s been years, and you never stay the same.” you say with a sigh.

scaramouche muttered apologies as he kissed along your neck. his cold hands finding a place on your stomach now as he caressed you. “i’m sorry (y/n). i’ll be better.”

a small smile flashed across your face once he turned you onto your back, leaning down to meet your lips. the kiss felt warm, unlike the cold indifferent kisses you would press against his chapped lips.

he spent the night in your bed, holding you and reminding you of the promise you had made to each other as kids. “i will always stick with you, despite who i meet along the way.”

you woke up groggy the next day, reaching out to the space next to you only to find it empty. with a yawn you made your way to your bedroom door, opening it but pausing once you heard scaramouche’s voice. he was talking to someone, but who?

“yeah i know babe. i’ll be over by tonight. i’m just busy with work stuff, you know how it is. don’t let childe come. alright bye, see you later. i love you.”

you didn’t think as you walked up to him, grabbing his phone out of his hand and slamming it onto the table next to him. “what the fuck? are you fucking serious?”

“what (y/n)? she’s just a friend. don’t get so bitchy.”

you scoffed, shoving him back as hard as you could. your hands trembled with anger. he had betrayed you again. you stupidly believed he had learned.

“fuck you. i’m done, done with this game. get the fuck out and never come back.” he didn’t say a word as he went back into your room, grabbing his jacket and leaving you there. alone.

you didn’t cry, not at first. you were too angry to cry, all you wanted to do was scream. it seemed so good while it lasted. you believed it was the last time, the last time of being apart and being no contact for months until things would fall apart for him. the way it always did.

it took months to rebuild your life without him. he hadnt reached out, not once. but inbetween drinks with kazuha you would hear about him. his new relationship, how nice his new girlfriend was. it made the drinks taste more bitter as you’d gulp them down.

once it was june you’d find yourself with kazuha on most days. your shared laughs throughout the night turned into interlocked fingers on the sheets of your bed. it was the first time in a long time that you felt good about having a relationship with someone. like a new phase of your life had begun.

a knock on your door one stormy night brought all of this to a halt. you half expected to see kazuha there as you swung open the door. “kazu- oh.” your smile fell seeing who it was. it wasn’t your white haired lover, but your ex situationship from what seemed to be forever ago. the rain slid down his dark hair as his hand went to touch yours, but you retracted it just as fast. it was just like that day in december.

“can we talk, (y/n)?”

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tadpolesonalgae · 1 month

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Fear of the Cold[***]

Dark!Ghost!Azriel x reader

Synopsis: after tormenting you for a month, slowly driving you closer to insanity, he finally makes his appearance. Eager to claim you after being denied for so long.

warnings: noncon, dark!az, fingering, strong references to past noncon

a/n: I was struggling with some writer’s block, so of course I ended up coming back here

word count: 3,124

-Fear of the Dark-

——————————————————————————————————————————————

The small cardboard box remains tucked in your pockets at all times, boxes of matches stocked in every room, easily available should the night…find you again.

The house—once deceptive with its semblance of warmth—is now barren and cold. Unlived in and alone. No matter how clean, or how messy you make it, you struggle recall which side of the barrier you lie on. After his visit, crossing into your own world where he should have been unable to, you worry he’d somehow been pulling you under.

You’d thought you were above the ice, but maybe you’re already below it, trapped beneath a layer thin enough to see through but not thin enough to break. Slowly drowning, not even an inch from an unbreakable surface.

Every time a stray draft breezes by, you feel a phantom touch on your throat, like the gentle drag of scar-roughened fingers, stroking placatingly against the fur of a pet. As if it will be some kind of reassurance.

He hasn’t appeared since that night—almost a month ago by now—yet you feel no further away from him. Like you’re trying to run up the snow-capped mountains, but the ground beneath you just slips out from under your feet, pulling you back down into his cold, dead embrace. Sometimes you wake drenched in sweat, lungs aching as if hands had been wrapped around them, squeezing the life from them, to hurry you over onto his side. Other times it’s nothing as overt; when once you had been met with confusion upon not being able to locate a familiar object, now you’re met with dark resign, knowing he’s been moving things again. Moving plates right before you, dragging salt shakers across the table, chandeliers swinging slightly when you know there is no breeze in your house.

Though by far the worst was when you’d been on the verge of sleep one night, tiredly making it to your bed to change. You’d pulled back the covers and found a night gown laid out for you, warmed beneath the sheets. Pale and diaphanous, so sheer it was ghostly, lace wound at its hem like cobweb. You don’t possess anything like that. All your clothes conceal skin, keep it warm against the harsh bite of the desolate mountains, hide it from phantom eyes that watch from the dark.

————

The day is coming to its end, though the constant grey of the skies makes that difficult to tell, every shade blending into the next one, keeping you pithing an inescapable loop. Sometimes you wonder if time is passing at all.

Fatigue weighs on your lids as you stand to put away your plate, making to move to the sink when the porcelain in snatched from your fingers and shattered against a wall, pale shards glittering on the floor boards. A breath hisses beside your ear, skin prickling with cold beneath the harsh exhale, and you freeze. Hands shaking as you stare at the shattered plate, replaying what had happened in the blink of an eye with painful scrutiny. There had been no warning, no dancing shadow nor a drop in temperate—just volatile aggression searing up from nowhere.

You swallow heavily, eyes frenetically dancing through the room, searching, searching for some kind of cause, a way you might be able to predict him in the future, but there isn’t so much as a mote of dusk out of place. Not even an awareness ticking at the back of your mind, no feeling of being watched.

“Leave me alone,” you whisper, softer than a breath.

A slam comes from deep with in your house, like a cellar door being whipped shut, able to feel its vibrations through the bare soles of your feet. Reverberating up into your bones. You turn about skittishly, eyes darting to one side of the room then the next in the same second, frantically searching for him so you don’t have to keep guessing, anticipating where he’ll come from next, what more havoc he’ll wreak to subject you to his kind of fear.

A cold breeze kisses up your throat, and it’s the only sign you need to start running, bolting from the room, plate forgotten as you race through the halls. You have no goal in mind, just desperate to flee from him, to escape his hunting grounds, but your heart continues pounding, passing by doors closing as you near them, the heavy metal grating noise as bolts are slid into place on the other sides, curtains hissing shut as your feet hit the floor, drawers shaking as you keep pushing forward, unknowingly corralled, herded in your own home.

You should have known where you’d end up.

It’s the bedroom on the highest floor you reach, frantically running inside as you chase the illusion of safety, slamming the door behind you and locking it with surprising swiftness.

You stumble back into the room, arms shaking, heart pounding, breath misting as it cools in the air, surprisingly cold for indoors—too cold. You turn around to look over the room, to find all the windows either open or smashed. Shards of broken glass line the outskirts of the chamber, ice frosting the windowsills, floorboards slightly snowy. The room looks wrecked.

A force builds at your back, but you don’t even have the time to turn before something is wrapping over your hips, pressing hard against your back, keeping you in place. You don’t need to turn though to know who it is, and as the final dark grey of day melts into the inky black of night, a small part of you crumbles.

“Leave me alone,” you breathe into the darkness, kept incapacitated by his iron hold on your body. Ice kisses against the shell of your ear, and your breath hitches, trembling beneath his touch. The darkness shakes at your back, and you’re certain he’s laughing, ghastly stuttering breaths brushing over the nape of your neck, before frozen lips graze the intimate expanse of skin.

“You can’t do this again,” you whisper, trying to unstick your limbs, but you feel a pressure over your sternum—a hand gliding up slowly between your breasts, fingertips brushing at your throat before gripping lightly.

“So warm,” he breathes, pulling you deeper into his deadened embrace, nosing at your cheek. “So alive.”

“Azriel, stop,” you whisper, shaky palms trying to pry his corporeal touch from your skin—to no avail. He’s stronger than you even after death. Even as a ghost. Phantom. Whatever he is now. A wraith.

“You can’t do this again,” you breathe, pressure building behind your eyes. “I beat you. I won. You can’t come back.”

“I came back for you,” he returns, icy lips curving in a cruel smile against your soft skin. “You can’t escape from me, little thing. You should know that. I’ll always come back for you.”

“I don’t want you to!” You whisper, squeezing your eyes shut, trying to squirm at least enough to reach your pockets. The smallest amount of light will be enough. You have to believe it will be enough. Just one match, struck against cardboard.

It took him down once. It can take him down again.

“So warm,” he murmurs, fingers stroking across your skin, his forearm tightening across your middle, pulling you back into his body, cold enough to be hewn from the same stone these mountains are made of. Jagged, icy, and utterly deadly. Too much for you to ever handle. “You’re so warm,” he repeats, voice shaking with something that sounds almost like reverence. He inhales slowly, breath trembling as his head dips, mouth tracing the elegant curve of your throat, and you manage to shove your hands into your pockets, fingers fumbling with the small box.

“Azriel…” you breathe out softly as his lips graze your neck. “I…missed you…”

He falters at the whispered confession, and you shove away from him, whipping round as you strike the match.

Flame sizzles feebly to life, but it’s more than enough, casting the room in a faint glow as you use your body and hand to shield it from stray breezes that’ll wash in from the shattered windows. You can’t even swallow as you meet his gaze again, cold and unforgiving as it takes you in.

“You don’t belong in this world,” you whisper, fingers trembling but you keep a hold of the match. Even if it burns your skin, you’ll hold on to this small light you have. “Go back to where you came from.”

Shadows swarm over his shoulders, building higher, denser, wreathing his wings and making him into something much larger, impossibly more deadly as he looms, flame casting a shadow on the back wall that does not match his silhouette.

Azriel shakes his head, displeasure lining his features, angered by the trick.

“Did you not learn last time?” He mutters lowly, and you stumble when he steps forward closer to the flame. You retreat, legs shaking as he encroaches further, pushing you back into the room, pushing you further from the door, your only escape back into what feels now like the world of the living.

“Fire can’t hurt me anymore.”

The darkness surges forward, smothering the flame in the blink of an eye. So fast that you barely clock as he crowds your space, palms biting into your shoulders, icy mouth crushing down upon your own, shadows pushing you tighter, squeezing you together until there isn’t even an inch of space to be found between your bodies. The box of matches falls to the floor, useless and discarded, his boot crushing down on them as he swallows you whole in his shadows.

You writhe, trying to pull against him, trying to squeeze your hands between you, to push at him, to claw, scratch and scrape, anything to get him away. You can’t do this again. But he’s entirely dominating, mouth hungrily devouring you, tongue stroking against your own as his hips press flush with yours. His hand tangles in your hair, arm banding around your lower back, palm settling over the curve of your hind, squeezing as he growls against your mouth.

Azriel pulls away for a moment, only to lower his mouth to your throat, teeth sharper than icicles as he nips and bites, pushing marks into your skin that you’ll have to face in the morning. A reminder of his presence. How you’ll never escape him.

You cry out as he tears himself off you, able to hear his deep breathing, hungry for more, tired of waiting, and he shoves you backward. Shadows flit about the mattress as you fall back on it, at once attempting to scramble away but those dark tendrils bind your wrists, lightly tugging, keeping you from escaping too far as he prowls onto the bed. Your heart pounds as his fingers skate up your ankle, brushing over your shins, taking your night gown with them.

“Azriel stop,” you demand shakily, trying to press away, trying to press tighter into the headboard, to press further from his touch. “You can’t—…you can’t do this again.”

“Watch me,” he murmurs softly, palm tipping the fabric over the curve of your knee, so it slides up your thighs, pooling at your hips. “You’ll enjoy it even more than last time. I promise,” he whispers, a faint curve to his hellish mouth. “We can go slow…” He pushes your legs apart, and you shiver beneath him, teeth chattering slightly in the cold, under the iciness of his touch.

“What would—…what would your brothers think?” You manage out, trying desperately to dissuade him. “You know they wouldn’t forgive you.”

If he won’t listen to your words, maybe someone else will have a sway with him. But he chuckles lowly, hand cupping your jaw, thumb stoking over the crest of your cheek and you sink into the pillows in attempts to hide from him. “If they knew the kind of strain you put me under,” he murmurs over your lips, “the kind of pleasure you bring. They would have buckled long before.”

“You’re disgusting,” you breathe, and his eyes gleam in the dark, practically glowing with predatory hunger. “You know you enjoyed it last time,” he taunts quietly, hand vacating your jaw, trailing down your collar bones, fingers grazing your breast, their pads circling your nipple lightly, before continuing down. “Practically soaked me. You can’t lie to me, little thing. I know you too well.”

You flush with humiliation at the reminder, shame tasing foul at the back of your throat, because he’s right. A repulsively large part of you had enjoyed it. He’d taken you over the edge more times than you could count, each orgasm turning your mind numb, making your muscles spasm with liquid pleasure.

“You’re going to hell, Azriel,” you say softly, lower lip wobbling as your heart pounds, his hand settling between your thighs. His cruel mouth curves. “I did,” he replies, “when you tried to send me away from you, I found out what it was like.” His fingers stroke down your centre and breath mists before you as you inhale sharply, exhaling heavily, breath stuttering as he plays with you, prodding at your entrance. “But I survived, didn’t I?” He smiles, tendrils of shadow curling beneath your night gown, pulling it further out of the way, pulling you further down, until you’re entirely trapped beneath him. “I survived, and came back for you,” he breathes, “my love.”

“I’m not your love,” you spit vehemently, eyes gleaming with wetness as tears well, despite your attempts to blink them away. “You’re messed up in the head. Whatever you think love is—it’s repulsive.”

His fingers slide in, and your lips part, hazel glinting as he devours your expression, how your spine arches a little.

“Then what does that make you, hm?” He muses softly, long fingers curling inside of you, “as someone who’s receiving it.” His thumb presses to your clit, and you squirm, tears spilling over as you try to shift away, hips winding as you struggle to move. “Fuck, stop it,” you cry, shadows allowing your hands to slip free, to find placement on his broad shoulders, fists slamming against them repeatedly as he works you with a familiarity even dying couldn’t remove from him.

Even the searing burn of fire couldn’t purge him of his malevolence.

“Stop it?” He hums, as if it amuses him, fingers scissoring inside of you, watching how you gasp at the ministrations, giving reactions that only sing to the pleasure you’re feeling, heat beginning to dawn across your skin, liquefying between your thighs. “I think you’re enjoying it quite a lot.” His fingers pull out, and you pant in the silence, eyes squeezed together as you treasure the reprieve, hoping he’ll leave now. Now that he’s taken something from you again. It should be enough.

Your eyes crack open when you hear those wet noises, soft and saturated as he licks your flavour from his fingers, humiliation unfurling in your abdomen, and you turn your head to the side, again closing your eyes in attempts to block him out. Digging your nails into his shoulders.

“You taste wonderful,” he chuckles lowly, before cold palms are pushing your thighs apart again, and you brace for the intrusion of his fingers, but instead—

“Azriel!” You almost scream, voice too hoarse to reach that volume, tears becoming heavier as his mouth seals over your cunt, the ice of his tongue contrasting with the heat that’s gathered between your legs. “Azriel, stop!” You cry frantically, hands moving to try and push him off, to grab at his soft hair and pull him away, but he groans when your nails drag over his skin, grinding his hips into the mattress, and you stop almost instantly.

His tongue swirls over your clit, suckling gently, teeth occasionally scraping, just to keep you on edge, his shadows wrapped over your waist, flooding across your chest, seemingly eager to play with your breasts. How they pinch and rub at your nipples, giving light tugs as if in reprimand for attempting to banish him.

“Azriel, please,” you beg, though you can hear the slight breathlessness to your voice, horror coiling in your gut. It can’t happen again. He can’t make it feel right again. His pleasure is disgusting, a cruel manipulation of what it should be, contorting into something it’s not.

His rough palm wrap over the top of your thigh, forcing you wider so he can slide his fingers back in, and a moan has spilled out before you can stop it.

You want to slap your hand over your mouth, but the shadows pin your wrists to the bed, more pleasured noises gasping from your throat as he rubs against those spots inside of you, fingers gently stimulating parts that make you tremble. Arousal fills the room, and you can feel the weight of his attention of you as he pushes you further, delighting in the slow climax he’s bringing you to, dragging it out as long as he can bear, after being denied of you for so long.

Heat swells beneath his touch, and your back bows from the mattress as he curls his fingers, as if beckoning you forward to tip over that edge. His tongue swipes over your clit, swirling with more pressure, and the pleasure breaks, crashing down as you squirm beneath his touch, toes curling as you try to scramble away. “Az—Azriel! Stop! I can’t…!”

He pays you no mind, eager to taste your high, licking up every drop of arousal as it fills his mouth, starved away for too long for him to allow you the mercy of a reprieve.

Overstimulation hits you hard, back curving as you gasp heavily, clawing at him in a way you know he finds pleasurable, but do out of instinct, trying to escape the high he’s forcing you through.

Azriel only pulls away once you’ve stopped scrambling, taking in the hot flush of your body, the arousal that’s slicking your thighs, that’s sitting on his tongue. He could continue for the entire night, but he doesn’t want to spoil anything for you. He has his own events planned out, and he needs you to digest this night first, before he can progress. He knows if he moves too quickly you might simply fall apart in his hands, and then he would be left with nothing.

But if he takes his time, gently stretching you out, delicately putting his pleasure into your body—then you will bend and buckle to his shape. Then he will be able to have you as he pleases.

At last feel your warmth encompass him entirely.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria

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dark!az taglist: @honeyandhalfmoons

#dark!azriel #dark!azriel x reader smut #dark!azriel smut #dark!ghost!azriel #dark!ghost!azriel x reader smut #fear of the dark #fear of the cold

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canary3d-obsessed · 9 months

Text

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 38 part two

(Masterpost) (Pinboard) (whole thing on AO3)

Warning! Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Shopping and Night Hunting

Xue Yang convinces Xiao Xingchen to take him along as his night hunting assistant, and the Empathy session jumps forward. The next thing we see is a whole street full of dead people with Xiao Xingchen standing over them with his sword, while Xue Yang looks on approvingly.

Xiao Xingchen explains that the whole village was Puppets, with no living people. Dude. DUDE. Even by the standards of a world that contains Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen, you are way too trusting of shit that people tell you.

A-Qing checks the corpses and they have white eyes, which makes her think they might really be puppets. Xue Yang makes some insane faces just so we know he's not actually turned over a new leaf.

Next we see Xiao Xingchen trying to buy potatoes (this is fantasy China, not pre-Qing historical China; they can have all the potatoes they want) and a vendor telling him to scram. Is Xiao Xingchen just asking for free potatoes? Is this the first time he’s realized that doesn’t generally work?. Xue Yang menaces the vendor by loudly stabbing a potato, and then calls Xiao Xingchen back over.

The vendor gasps and fills up their basket with food, and Xiao Xingchen smiles because he thinks that his buddy silently convinced the guy to give them food by...being nice? Unclear.

I Ain’t Gonna Play Yi City

Next we see ultrahot Song Lan arriving at the gate of Yi City, where A-Qing is happily picking up a money purse. ...whose? Do enough living people come through here that they just casually drop money on the ground? Song Lan twigs to her not being blind pretty quickly, although for politeness sake he lets her continue to pretend.

Song Lan asks if she's seen a white-clad sword-bearing daoist priest, and she quizzes him to make sure he's a good guy before helping him. Her entire set of security questions:

1. are you friends? 2. How tall is he? 3. is he hot? 4. What does his sword look like?

If this is not a mistranslation, these are not very good questions to ask if you want someone to believe you’re blind, incidentally.

Song Lan's answers:

1. ............... .... ...yes 2. me and him match like a set of salt and pepper shakers 3. like, SO hot 4. It’s named Shuanghua (”splendid frost,” per Viki), as all True Sword Fans know

(more after the cut!)

These answers are correct, pretty much, so he passes the security check and she leads him into the city. He comes carrying his sword Fuxue (”blowing away snow,” roughly), his horsetail flail, and his messy, messy feelings, which are going to be his undoing.

They walk through the super-abandoned town, which has paper decorations hanging up. These paper decorations are really well made, considering that they are still there when WangXian roll up several years later.

Song Lan has a little crisis trying to psych himself up to see Xiao Xingchen. Bro, you have been walking around looking for him for literally YEARS, and you haven't figured out what to say yet? Contrast with Lan Wangji, who went for the wrist-grab mere moments after discovering that Wei Wuxian was back, and followed it up by carrying him off to his bed.

Enemy Mine

While he's dithering, Xue Yang comes back, and A-Qing hides while Song Lan stands there being shocked.

We're treated to the Xue Yang version of sweet banter, where he tricks Xiao Xingchen into picking a short straw for chores, and then tells him he was tricking him because he was blind.

They have a laugh together and Xue Yang is handsy with XXC, causing Song Lan to clench his fist so strongly that we can hear his knuckles cracking.

You knew your ex was going to be at the party; if you can’t handle seeing him with a new guy you shouldn’t have come.

Then he sees Xue Yang go out to get groceries, and he grips his flail so hard that his palm starts bleeding. That sentence is about a weapon, not about his dick, incidentally.

More Empathy

But then empathy skips ahead, showing Xiao Xingchen stabbing Song Lan, while Wei Wuxian's hands shake and he says "Song Lan, don't!" like he’s in the audience of a horror movie. A-Qing, in the present, drools up some blood, which is pretty normal for her, TBH.

The Lan kids are alarmed and want to wake them up, but Jin Ling says to hang in there for a bit more. For a kid, Jin Ling isn’t bad at wielding authority.

A distraught Jingyi insists, however, so Jin Ling starts ringing the bell, and Wei Wuxian opens his eyes but doesn't come out of Empathy. He does stop skipping ahead, though, so we go back to Song Lan & Xue Yang's confrontation, which is possibly the best fight in the whole dang show.

We’re Gonna Get It On ‘Cause We Don’t Get Along

Xue Yang comes back from the grocery store to find Song Lan perched on his roof like a sexy vengeful raven. Xue Yang greets him sexily politely and with no anxiety at all, and Song Lan attacks.

Song Lan has had literally years to settle his mind and get his emotions under control and...he has not done that. Like, at all.

He could have cleared this whole situation up with about four words to Xiao Xingchen, and they could have fought Xue Yang together. But he was so unready to hug it out with his ex that he opted to face Xue Yang all on his own. Dumb. Ass.

Contrast this with Lan Wangji, who always talked to Wei Wuxian, no matter how estranged they had become. Trying to stab him counts as talking. And also contrast this with Jiang Cheng, who hashed everything out with Wei Wuxian in an excruciating public confrontation, after which they teamed up to save their nephew. Neither of those guys let their ooky feelings stand in the way of a reconnection, and their outcomes were way, way, way better than Song Lan’s.

Xue Yang and Song Lan get busy fighting, and Song Lan starts asking what the fuck Xue Yang is playing at, how long has he been deceiving Xiao Xingchen, etc.

Xue Yang is a perceptive guy, and he points out that Song Lan is holding back because he wants to ask these questions. He’s absolutely right; Song Lan wants to feel indignant and righteous, partly because he knows he himself has mistreated Xiao Xingchen. He’s putting himself in the role of Xiao Xingchen’s protector, when he doesn’t actually have that relationship with him any more.

I love this fight sequence for two reasons. First, because it showcases the actors doing a lot of moves themselves, and they both look amazing and move beautifully. (OP has slowed most of these gifs down quite a bit to avoid giving everybody a migraine, incidentally--the camera operator was moving around as much as the actors in these shots)

Second, because a lot of story happens in this fight; the dynamic between them, as two people with a very complex mutual hatred, is played out in their moves. Song Lan's moves are all strong attacks, expressing his anger and frustration, while Xue Yang’s are mainly defensive, avoidant, and slippery, because he is more interested in hurting Song Lan with words than with his blade at this point. He knows he has an unbeatable advantage up his sleeve, so he’s not particularly worried, even when Song Lan lands a couple of hits.

Xue Yang lays it all out for Song Lan, explaining that Xiao Xingchen, being blind, relies on his sword to point toward resentful energy. Hey, isn't that what Wei Wuxian's Compass of Evil does? So WWX only needs that thing because he can't carry a sword? That...actually makes sense. Anyway, Xue Yang figured out if he cuts people's tongues out, Shuanghua can't tell living people from monsters, which is so awesome and fun for Xue Yang.

Song Lan starts to lose his composure and calls Xue Yang a “villain,” which leads Xue Yang to mock him for his weaksauce cussing ability.

Xue Yang: You educated people have a disadvantage when cursing someone out. Song Lan: Eat a bag of dicks, fuckstick.

Then he criticizes Xue Yang for taking advantage of Xiao Xingchen's blindness.

He gets a couple of licks in but then Xue Yang stops and points out that Xiao Xingchen is only blind because of giving his eyes to Song Lan.

This stops Song Lan in his tracks; I am not sure if he already knew that’s where his eyeballs came from, or if he thought it was a coincidence that Xiao Xingchen became blind after he, Song Lan, got new eyeballs. Then Xue Yang challenges Song Lan's standing to be fighting on Xiao Xingchen's behalf, reminding him that he's not actually Xiao Xingchen's friend. These are the same tactics that Jin Guangyao will later use on righteous, insecure Jiang Cheng.

Back when Xue Yang killed Song Lan's sect/temple buddies, Song Lan blamed Xiao Xingchen, and Xue Yang says now that that was his plan; he killed them to turn Song Lan against Xiao Xingchen.

It totally worked. Song Lan said that they should never see each other again, and Xiao Xingchen took it to heart and fucked off forever - after giving Song Lan his eyes. Contrast this with Wei Wuxian, who stuck by Jiang Cheng despite being blamed & choked by him after the Lotus Pier massacre.

Despite all this emotional turmoil, Song Lan is holding his own...until Xue Yang pulls out his secret weapon; half of a yin tiger seal.

He starts hitting Song Lan with corpse poison and resentment blasts and very quickly has him on the ropes.

He finishes up by cutting his tongue out. Yikes.

At this point it’s clear that Xue Yang was never in any serious danger; this was his plan for Song Lan all along. Song Lan goes to attack Xue Yang but now that he’s been modded, Splendid Frost thinks he’s a zombie, so Xiao Xingchen comes sailing in and stabs him.

Song Lan tries to raise his sword to XXC's fingers so he can identify himself, but at the last moment his eyes turn solid black and he drops the sword. Does that mean Xue Yang stuck a nail in his head already? *shrug*

Xue Yang and Xiao Xingchen head back into the coffin house -- seriously, why do they live there instead of one of the many actual houses in this town? -- and leave Song Lan lying in the street, with A-Qing, who saw the whole thing, hiding behind a hay stack.

Xue Yang Must Die...eventually

After some more bell ringing, Wei Wuxian emerges from Empathy, pretty overwhelmed.

He gets up and goes over to Xiao Xingchen's coffin and looks closely at the wound on his neck, understanding that XXC killed himself, and why.

His face, in this moment. Suicide isn’t something he expected to have in common with his uncle.

He tells the kids and A-Qing to stay in the coffin house; he won't explain what he saw, except to say that Xue Yang must die. Then he goes off to kill Xue Yang, by which I mean to assemble his Xue-Yang killing team, rather than try to take him mano a mano like Song Lan did.

The first order of business is to finish rebooting Song Lan, which he does by pulling the second nail out of his head like he should have done four hours ago.

Note that Wen Ning and Song Lan were fighting for the ENTIRE time Wei Wuxian was doing Empathy. Corpses don’t get tired, I guess.

As soon as the nail comes out of his head, Song Lan quiets down, looking bereft, and crouches on the ground to try to reassemble his shattered consciousness. Unlike Wen Ning, he doesn’t have to bake in a cave for a month to achieve this.

We get a nice shot of Wei Wuxian, Song Lan, and Wen Ning looking like the cultivation world’s handsomest goth band.

Next, Lan Wangji cuts open Xue Yang's shirt so he can yoink his spirit-trapping bag, which he then tosses to Wei Wuxian.

Now Xue Yang is the one who's overly emotional.

Wei Wuxian, despite being very upset by what he saw in Empathy, is completely cool and in control of himself now, because that's just how he is in a fight. (Unless you kill his sister. That gets him very emotional, but the emotion is rage, at least initially, so it’s not a safe tactic.)

Lan Wangji gets in another poke with Bichen while Xue Yang is distracted.

Camera operator: Spare me!

Xue Yang decides to take his ball amulet and go home, disappearing into the fog while Wei Wuxian keeps talking smack at him.

Holy Abrupt Episode Ending, Batman!

#the untamed #the untamed gifs #restless rewatch the untamed #ep38 #canary3d-original #yi city

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