#I gave venomous some faint scales

[shanedoesdoodles]

First drawing of 2023!! Its more voxman art hoping to draw a lot more often this year!

#voxman #ok ko voxman #ok ko professor venomous #ok ko lord boxman #ok ko let's be heroes #ok ko lets be heroes #I gave venomous some faint scales #Shanedoesdoodles #Shanes doodles

[hentyehottie]

-| hi my newfound love 💕

i bring to thee pervy thoughts to satiate your kinktober thirst 💦

STAY WITH ME NOW ….

N-

N-NAGA!BAKUGO 🐍

Naga!Bakugo who stands about 7ft tall at his full height. Thick, muscular arms crossed over his bulging pecs that lead to into perfectly chiseled abs and tapers into a massive corded serpentine tail that he uses to prep you before stretching your tight little hole out with his two slimy ✨cocks✨

do with this what you will ❤️

Kinktober day 1 and only 🤪

Ngl it took forever but I got it done lmaooo excuse mistakes I never proofread

Pairing: Naga!Bakugo x Explorer Chubby Black!Fem Reader

c/w: 18+ MDNI

chileeeee 😭 monster fucking, oviposition, tail fucking, kats has two cawks, oral (m!receiving), language ofc, Katsuki hates humans, Katsuki’s 100 yrs old at least, he’s also a lil mean but I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t sprinkle a little praise here and there, venom intoxication, full nelson position, cervix fucking, girl you a babymama now 🤤 ❀ let me know if I’m missing any tags ❀

inspo behind his look lol

❀

Something wasn’t right about this forest, so many sinkholes and underground traps lingered around the bunker-like caves.

Which is exactly why you’re limping back to your camp. You’d lost your canteen, which meant you had no drinking water for the night. Fortunately, you had somewhere warm and sheltered to sleep.

You entered the bunker you’d claimed for yourself. This one was the least creepy of them all, lacking the furs and animal carcasses you’d seen in a couple of the others.

At the entryway you kicked off your boots, not wanting to track dirt and mud inside. The tapestry you’d brought gave you a decent amount of privacy, kept you hidden from whatever might’ve been lurking outside, however it couldn’t hide you from something already inside.

“Oi, it’s about time, who the fuck are you?” He snarled violently, tail curling around to push you the rest of the way inside. He’d been waiting on you to return all day, dying to see just who was bold enough to trespass amongst his territory.

He was huge, not only big and brutish but tall too, his head nearly grazing the cave’s ceiling as he raised up at you.

Katsuki hated humans. They were messy, disgusting and vile, destroying every place they’d come to inhabit.

So he’s absolutely seething when a ditzy little bitch makes herself comfortable right in the middle of his territory. Pinning your dumb little tapestry in the entryway, and leaving your things scattered.. neatly in a corner?

Okay whatever you didn’t make a mess, but still he’d spent days digging it out and getting it just right for his rut, only to have some human bitch trespassing while he was out collecting supplies.

“Oh I-.”

Terrified was an understatement as you looked everywhere but his face to to avoid his angry red eyes.

“You’re a..a…like a centaur..but a snake?” He heard you say. Should someone, or something like this even exist? You couldn’t help but wonder if he was the product of some freaky genetic splicing, or something conjured up from the deepest darkest depths of your monsterfucking fantasies.

His human or hunanoid half was absolutely beautiful. A very handsome face, even if it was fixed into a scowl, big muscled arms and an abdomen like a washboard. He wore golden cuffs on his arms and wrists, thick rings adorned a couple of his fingers. His body was thick and bulky, tapering down to a slender twelve foot long tail. His scales were black with splotches of tan, the underbelly that same sandy tan color.

“A Naga, dumbass. I don’t have time for ya little games, bitch. The hell are you doing in my den. Where’d you come from?”

“Your what? I’m traveling south and I just needed a camp for a few nights. Please don’t eat me, I’ll leave!” You were willing to beg the handsome creature for your life. You nearly fainted at the feel of his cold, scaly tail wrapping around and giving a deterrent squeeze.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” He snarled. The last thing he’d ever eat was a disgusting human, you’d probably taste like shit anyway, with all the garbage humans ate.

Now, a deer or a big fat juicy rabbit? He’d do just about anything for. He’d probably go hunting after he figured out how to dispose of you.

“So, what should I do with you, my chubby little bunny?”

His tone was taunting, you’re sure anything you suggested he’d laugh at, but you mustered up enough courage to speak anyway.

His gaze was fixed on you, red reptilian eyes daring you to make a move. He wanted you to run. He’d probably even stall a bit, give you a little leeway before hunting you down like the predator he was.

And when he found you he’d contemplate snapping your pretty little neck, or pumping so much venom into your veins that your blood solidified completely, or even gutting you like a fish and tossing you aside for the scavengers to deal wit-

“K-keep me?”

He stared at you like you’d grown another head.

“Keep you?” He spat the words like they were poison filling his mouth. He scoffed, nose turned up and brows bunched into a menacing scowl. “Fuck are you talkin’ about?”

He’d expected you to beg for a merciful death, totally caught off guard when you suggested such an impious request.

“L-like a pet or maid..I-I can cook or forage or…please you.” You reasoned with the monster, voice dying in your throat at the end of the statement. You knew there was no way he’d let you go unscathed, so you offered up the next best thing, you hoped.

The blonde stopped and looked down at you, arms crossed over the thick trunk of his body and squeezing his deliciously large pecs together, before his mouth turned up in a devilish smirk. Uncoiling his tail, he dropped you right on your butt.

“Don’t need a pet, but I do need an incubator.” Your eyes widened when his eyes fixated on your chubby tummy.

“Incubator?”

“Yeah,” His forked tongue flickered. “Ain’t got a mate, but I’m ready for a litter.“

He slithered the rest of the way to you, pulling you right into his arms. He pressed his cool fingers into your doughy body, pulling you right up against him. “You have the perfect body to bare my clutch, so you will.”

Sure, it was contradictory. He hated humans, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t use you and all of your warm holes, right?

“Either that or I stuff em’ into your corpse.”

He could smell your fear, along with the sweet scent of ovulation and it was absolutely intoxicating. Your scent alone made him fucking feral, made him want nothing more than to burrow deeper into his den and have his way with you, to pump you full of cum and then his eggs.

Which is exactly what he’d do. Make you pay for disturbing his peace and triggering his rut early.

“Gonna keep papa’s eggs nice and warm, right? Ya promise?”

You nod with so much force your head might fall off, flinching when his thin tongue flickered rapidly beside your ear.

“Good, now whad’ya say about pleasing me, Bunny?”

***

The naga is left speechless when you take the head of one of his cocks into your mouth. The warmth enveloping him like the tightest hug.

“Fuck…what a good little bitch.”

You responded with the faintest little ‘mhm’ staring up at him all starry-eyed and dazed. Your tongue ran up and down that thick vein, sending shivers up his spine.

Katsuki had fucked with plenty of Naga women, but none of them had ever taken his dicks into their mouth, too prude and snobby to commit such a profane act.

But humans—humans were the embodiment of sin, the epitome of absolute trash, and before now he’s never been more grateful for the scum of your race.

Because here you were, the sexiest plump little vixen he’d ever seen, on your knees with your tongue swirling around each of his heads, showing neither more attention than the other.

You squished one of them between your busom, fucking it with your tits while your mouth handled the other.

“Holy fuck.” The naga breathed out, palming your head to push you down onto his cock, the tip nudging the threshold of your throat. Katsuki’s mind was clouded with delirium, head thrown back as little grunts and groans were forced out of him.

He laced his fingers into your braids, the hair ties that held your bun long gone. He was surprisingly gentle, forming your hair into a ponytail to rut against your mouth.

You sucked his cocks like your life depended on it, because it did. You needed him to feel like you were worth keeping, not to be discarded after you’d given him a litter.

“S-stop.”

Of course you didn’t stop, too stupefied to even understand the command at first. The naga felt like putty in your hands, the rattle of his tail moving intensely fast, nearly beating against the ground to signal just how close he was.

Your tongue and throat tingled as you worked him with your mouth, pushing him closer and closer to a release that would’ve brought him to his knees if he had them.

“Stop…or I’ll kill ya.” Bakugou panted hard, breaths ragged and strained, giving your hair a rough tug.

He quite literally meant what he said, as much as he did want to paint your throat with his cum, you’d likely asphyxiate from all that semen.

Your mouth was off of him in an instant, staring up at him waiting for your next order. You were a delectable sight to behold. Saliva dripping from your chin onto your big tits.

He pulled you up into a sloppy kiss, coating your tongue and throat with venomous saliva. It made your mouth water, the more you swallowed it down. You were now covered in a light sheen of sweat, body lax in his arms and incredibly sensitive, signs that you ingested the poison well.

“Please! I want-I need your cocks! Need you to fuck m-me.” His venom had you slack-jawed and slurring, drool dripping from the corners of your mouth.

Katsuki loved a bitch who wasn’t too proud to beg, carnal urges roused and ready to give you all that you asked for.

“Gotta stretch that pretty pussy if you want both my cocks.”

You nodded, or at least thought you nodded, head swaying as he maneuvered you around. Now you have your arms looped around his neck as he holds you up by your knees.

You let out the most wanton moan when his rattle breached your cunt, gasping and panting like a whore when more and more of that thick tail made its way inside.

Your eyes squeezed shut and your mouth formed a wide ‘o’ as the rings of the his tail were sheathed deep into your cunt.

“Nice and warm.” His deep raspy voice lingers in your mind even after he’s spoken.

“Fuckkkk! I need more!” You cried out, cunt gushing more of your syrupy arousal around his tail and down your thighs.

“Doing s’good, I’ll give ya more.” He praised, fangs pressed into his lip as he slipped his tail out, rattle coated in your pussy’s cream.

Tears stung your eyes at the delicious stretch of his upper cock stuffing your cunt.

He bounced you up and down, loving how your warm, creamy pussy felt around him. With every thrust the head of his second cock bumped against your clit sending tremors through your body every single time.

He never wanted to leave the warmth of your cunt and quite frankly you didn’t want him to either with how you wrapped your thick thighs around him so tightly.

He was able to pry you off of him a little, just enough to position his second dick at your entrance.

Completely cock-drunk and dickmatized you’d probably die if he pulled out of you. You’d never been so full in your life, filled the the brim with this monster’s cock.

“You said you wanted both right?”

“Uhhuh?” You agreed to all of his questions if it meant keeping your life. Your mind was so clouded and hazy that you didn’t even process what he meant until he stuffed that second cock into your greedy cunt.

Shifting the position, he turns you around so that your back was against his front, cocks still stuffed inside as he handled you like you were featherlight. He lifts your legs up until he has them over his forearms, you’re now folded in half against him with his hands locked behind your head.

In an instant he’s moving again, holding you still and slamming into your pussy at a god-like speed. “Oooo shit.” You moaned, staring down at your bulging belly.

“You’re so stronggg.” Your praises pumped his ego, if that was even possible, the man already had so much confidence as it was. “Nghhh it’s s-so fucking good.”

“Yeah? Human whore loves my cocks?” He had the meanest grin on his face, basking in your praises.

“Yesssss, fuck yes.” You screamed, eyes crossed and tongue lolling out like a mad woman as he fucked you into oblivion.

“J-just like t-t-that.” You stuttered as you felt the peak of an orgasm creeping up on you.

It had just dawned on you, the blonde hadn’t even given you his name, if he had one.

“N-name..what’s your name.”

“Katsuki.” The Naga said, thrusts never faltering. He rarely gave his first name, especially to people he deemed beneath him. However, in a matter of moments you’d be the mother of his brood, of course he made an exception.

“Katsu…mmphhh. I’m gonna cum, Katsukiiii!” You whimpered out his name as you coated his cock with your juices.

“Oh f-fuck, what’s happening?” Your hooded eyes widened when the thick heads of his cocks pushed passed the ring of your cervix, sitting snug inside your womb and ready to deliver his clutch.

Play time was over, and Katsuki was ready to collect on that promise you made him.

Large and round, the first egg settled into your belly. One after the other he deposited six big eggs into your belly. The stretch was uncomfortable, heavy.

You weren’t even sure if you could stand holding so much extra weight. After all you’ve been through you weren’t sure if you could stand at all, honestly.

He finally lifted you off of his cocks, both semi flaccid and slowly retreating back into their slit. Your eyes were fixated below you, intrigued by the bright green slime that dripped out of your cunt but even more so by the swell of your tummy after being filled with the naga’s eggs.

You felt yourself being moved, until you were layed against your sleeping bag and few extra blankets you had brought to bundle up with.

You were drained— body covered in sweat and cum, belly stretched to capacity. You didn’t even want to think about how you looked right now.

“Oi, stay with me.” He slapped a calloused hand over your cheek a couple of times.

You floated in and out of consciousness but you kept your eyes locked on his crimson ones as best as you could.

“Did good.” He patted your head as you snuggled into his cool body, bulging belly jutting against his abdomen.

He rubbed a hand over your belly. ”S’good for me, gonna give me a strong litter.” He kissed your forehead and that’s all you could remember before consciousness evaded you.

❀

#bakugou x chubby reader #bakugou smut #black reader #bnha smut #chubby reader #mha x plus sized reader #bakugou imagine #bakugo x poc!reader #bakugou x black reader #kinktober #plus size teratophilia #teratophilia smut #terato #naga!bakugou #naga!bakugo #naga monster #naga smut #HentyeHottie

[ashleyfableblack]

A little more Happy Hearts N Hooves Day love for my favourite interspecies royal couple in Equestria. Big Love to all y'all out there.

Twilight removed her hooves from Chrysalis's tightly-shut eyes. With a bounce of her wings the alicorn hopped down from her perch on her Changeling wife's shell. Twilight had been so excited. Her joy was infectious and Chrysalis had been helpless but to indulge her precious little queen. She had blindly carried the giggling little lavender object of her affection through their castle on a playful lark. The couple had awkwardly trekked under Twilight's blind navigation for the last hour or so. Though she recognized the familiar scent of the Hive-tunnels beneath the castle something else tinged the air, another less familiar scent. It was faint and heavily masked under the overpowering taste of her wife's excitement. "Can I look now, Lilac?" "No peeking!" Twilight clambered over the side of the gilded box and positioned herself with a playful wiggle of her plot and a coy smile. She fluffed her mane and giggled gleefully. One last minute adjustment to the golden band around her neck, a little puffing-up of her chest floof and... perfect. "Okay, now." Chrysalis opened her emerald snake's eyes to behold the 'surprise' she'd been listening to her alicorn wife titter about for the last hour or so. There she sat, perched with a million-watt ear-to-ear grin and reeking of enough joyful anticipation to choke a colossal-scaled molerat in what the Changeling Queen could only describe as a vulgar pink monstrosity. She blinked, taking it all in. A new minecart. Twilight did love her minecarts. Clearly not designed for functionality, the bright pink thing was trimmed in soft lavender and cerise gemstones with gold lining and solid amethyst accents. The wheels even had a smokey bronze finish to them, trimmed in platinum. Somepony had put a fair amount of bits into the gaudy catastrophe. She liked the "LUVWAGON" license plate. The cheeky little lesbian-flag love-heart bumpersticker suited her sensibilities as well. The color scheme almost seemed tailored to Twilight's own coat but still, something seemed off. With a flick of her forked tongue to taste the air she confirmed her suspicions. It smelled like Cadence. Twilight's smile beamed expectantly to her from the nightmarish thing. "Isn't it GREAT?" "Great...?" Chrysalis struggled for the words, trying her best to focus on her pony partner's joy and contain her revulsion. Twilight ran a proud hoof along the gold trim. "It's a gift from Cadence. I think it's her way of saying she's sorry for upsetting you at tea the other day." "Oh. How nice..." Though she bared her fangs in a congratulatory smile, the venom dripped from every word. "She insults me- our children- and buys you a new minecart." She gave a half-sneer. "Hurrah." Twilight leaned forward to rest on her elbows. She gave an empathetic smile for her wife. "She's trying, honeybug. She just doesn't understand you... or Changelings... or our relationship in general for that matter."

Chrysalis grumbled and rubbed at her temple. "Beloved, I know she's your friend and your brother's wife and mother to our royal niece- booger-picking little goblin that she is." Twilight chuckled as Chrysalis rolled her eyes, her tone relaxed slightly. "I try to tolerate her for your sake -and then some- but you know how I feel about her antics and why."

"I know, Chryssi." Twilight's eyes softened. She knew her wife was trying to be accommodating. "She doesn't understand, though, baby. She just wants to be your friend." Chrysalis muttered under her breath and looked away. Twilight clapped a hoof on the side of the cart like she was an excited Applejack showing off a new wagon. "Besides, I thought you might want to help me take it for a spin and break it in." Chrysalis looked to her wife askance as she picked at a bit of moss on the passageway wall. "Thank you, for the offer, beloved but you know how that went the last time we went on one of your cart joyrides together. The things hardly seem to be designed with my body in mind." She clicked a fang at her chitinous lip, recalling the unpleasant event. "I know you had a ball but I spent most of the trip banging about on my shell. I was picking dust and pebbles out of my tarsomeres for days." She gave her hoof a disgruntled waggle, displaying the broken-heart shape of their underside. "Weeeeell..." Twilight's voice took on a sing-song mischievous, honeyed tone as she tapped her hooves against the rim and took a silent measurement of her bughorse wife's proportions. " I was thinking there's more than one way to break in a minecart, you know..." Chrysalis looked up. Her serpentine eyes now wide as serving trays at rapt attention. Twilight lay back and spread her wings over the sides of the cart. Her mane began to flow and coil as the unfathomable power within her rose. The navy mass with it's single band of cerise and mallow grew into an inky cloud as tendrils came alive and lapped about at the air. They beckoned to Chrysalis as charming serpents. The starlight sparkles glittering from her wife's deep indigo tresses danced and teased for all the world like nighttime stars reflected across waves of the ocean. At the center of it all, Twilight's violet eyes narrowed, suddenly heavy-lidded in sweet seduction, calling to her wife. Summoning her closer. Commanding. "Honeybug...?" she purred.

Chrysalis's smile returned in a long, slow, hungry smirk as all thoughts of past events and in-laws vanished. Her tongue flickered at the air with the rumbling growl building in her barrel.

"My queen."

Everything else drifted into the ether. She considered the thought- Maybe she might like minecarts after all.

#my art #mlp g4 #mlpfim #hearts and hooves day #twisalis #twilight sparkle #queen chrysalis #love #romance #lgbtq #lesbian #marriage #eternal courtship #ashleyfableblack #valentines

[tiger-in-the-flightdeck]

For the Trick or Treat event, may I request a Symbrock Trick please? Thank you!

Of course you may! I hope this tickles your fancy!

Read here, or on AO3

“How do we always end up back in the sewers?”

Stop complaining Eddie. 

“I’m not complaining, darling. I’m just-” He stepped in something that went crunch, and somehow that was infinitely worse than something that went squish and he drooped. “Okay, I’m complaining.” 

Offered to take over. 

“I know, and I appreciate that.” Eddie stopped to rub his hand over his chest affectionately until his Other was all but purring behind his ribs. “But I want you to stay where you are until we know what we might be coming up against. If it’s just a scared kid down here, I don’t want them to get even more freaked out if they see you.” 

Not scary! Venom protested. He peeked out over Eddie’s shoulder, a tiny head on a stretch of tendril. He looked horrified that he might frighten a child. Not even doing the Scary Face. The little blob rippled then solidified into a round, innocent looking teddy bear before vanishing back inside of his Host. 

“Okay, how’s this? If we do find a kid, I’ll let you play with them. Fair?” 

The deep voice in his head hummed for a moment and Eddie let him mull it over as he tried to figure out how to avoid the greasy puddle in front of them. He gave up after a few seconds and simply stuck close to the edge where it was shallowest and made a mental note to just burn his boots when he got home. As it was, he’d already be taking a wire brush to scour off the outer few layers of his skin. 

He’d really gotten soft. There had been a time not too long ago that he would be down in a place like this, looking for a place to catch some shut eye. The grime never bothered him then. 

New York sewers, Venom pointed out. Slimier than San Francisco. 

Eddie chuckled in agreement. 

They were down there responding to an alert Eddie had seen online from the NYPD about sightings of a monster in this stretch of the sewer off the Crosstown Line subway. Most people had dismissed the reports, but Eddie knew monsters. 

If it was something putting his city at risk, he wanted to deal with it. And if it was something scared and lost and alone, he wanted to help it. 

He knew monsters. He knew that as often as not, they were gentle and loving and made silly faces at babies on the train. 

Love you too Eddie. 

They came to a fork in the tunnel and Eddie let Venom cover his face to give him better night vision to see into the gloom of both. In the one on the right, there was a pile of debris tucked against a wall that looked like something had been sleeping there. 

“Looks like we go right,” he said, drawing Venom back into himself so his senses weren’t overwhelmed. 

What they found was definitely a nest. Under the pile of leaves that had been swept down the gutter and crumpled newspaper were a clutch of palm sized oval eggs. 

And they were peeping excitedly to one another and rocking from side to side. 

Babies! Venom hollered in Eddie’s head, loud enough that he instinctively clapped his hands to his ears. His Symbiote flowed out of him to stretch down for a better look at the nest. He twined around the eggs, vibrating slightly to make sure they were warm enough. Babies babies babies babies babies. 

There was something familiar about this that was itching at Eddie’s brain. The faint peeps and squeaks from within the shells felt like something he had heard before, though he couldn’t quite place it. 

One of the eggs split, and a tiny scaled nose poked out to alert its nestmates that it was the first hatched. The others called back, a chorus of high pitched grunts as the rest of the eggs began to tear open. 

And Eddie remembered where he had heard it before. 

“Sweetheart… I need you to get out of the nest.” 

But Eddie! Tiny babies! 

“And giant, scary mother.” 

In the darkness came a deep rumble that Eddie felt as much as he heard. “Get out of the nest get out of the nest get out of the nest!” He twisted his hands into Venom and hauled him away from the eggs as the rumble approached hard and fast and Eddie learned that crocodiles not only did live in the New York sewer system, but that they could fucking gallop. 

#trick or treat #venom #symbrock #eddie brock #venom fanfiction #venom loves babies #no matter what species they are

[kettlequills]

prisoner of the skein

follow up to this, available on A03 here. cw: spiders, self-loathing, some violence, daedric pacts. FDB! Laataazin/LDB! Miraak.

He was so young, Laataaz thought as they saved the Last Dragonborn from yet another perilous death at the hands of the many-legged and rarely-kindly denizens of the Spiral Skein, though a wise man would have known to stop coming and not needed saving. And annoying, they added to themselves sourly, when he immediately took this as a sign that they were finally in the mood to be pestered.

The Last Dragonborn in question called himself Miraak – a curious name, Allegiance Guide, given to him by Paarthurnax at the Throat of the World (how Laat’s heart had ached to know their old friend was still alive, and fighting the good fight after all this time) – and had the look of the Falmeri in his sharp claws and luminous snowpale eyes, the Nordic in his towering height, firm jaw and proud nose, and the stupid fool in his determination, the radiance of his hope, the sure, steady way he carried himself, like that of the bold youth supple in his summer-strength, untested as yet by the bitter winter.

He was very beautiful, Laataaz admitted to themselves candidly, and his sharp eyes, his deep, sonorous voice, the breadth of his unbowed shoulders – did certain things to Laataaz that they had hoped were as dead and buried as the rest of their kin. He was so alive, beard not yet touched grey, so untainted by the daedric corruption that crawled like living creatures under Laataaz’s skin.

Laataaz wanted to wring his neck so badly that every second in his company felt like a test from Bormahu. After all this time, did the gods still crave Laat’s punishment?

Yes, they thought, as well they should.

After all this time, their hands still shook with the blood that stained them, dripped, now, with cobwebs and extra fingers they did not remember having before, the venomous bone-spurs that shredded through once-flesh. Laataaz was nothing so forgiveable as human, anymore. If they had ever been.

“Thank you,” said Miraak, blinking up at them from the ruins of an obliterated daedra that had been about to remove his heart from his chest. His shoulders were dusted with cobwebs and his robes were stained with spider ichor. Laataaz gave him a cursory glance, but they couldn’t see any bites on him – if he was poisoned, he could deal with it himself.

Laataaz swung their warhammer over their shoulder, ignoring the spiders that hurriedly skittered over their mask out of the way. Dusty filaments of web squirmed free of their ancient armour, caught the towering crown of Mephalan-horns. They squinted at him in a glare he couldn’t see behind their forbidding priest mask, then stomped away. Their footsteps echoed as always with the rustle and chitter of more legs than Miraak’s mortal eyes would be able to see.

He shouldn’t be here.

Miraak picked himself up and trailed after them, talking excitedly – and loudly, Laataaz’s thumping head added – about the progression of his research on Laataaz’s life, powers, and imprisonment, all vanished (they had hoped) to the murky mists of time and Mephala’s delicate hand. At least he did not expect them to reply, as Laataaz had been quite successfully pretending to not understand modern Cyrodillic, Dunmeris, Falmeris, and any of the other languages Miraak had tried, only growing, impossibly, more excited with each one that Laat remained indifferent to.

Dovahzul, however, they could not convince him of, and to Laat’s weary alarm, it seemed as if he had brought a dictionary.

He was trying to talk to them even now with dragon-words that caught at their attention like fishhooks, but Laataaz pretended to ignore him. He should not be here. He needed no encouragement to continue seeking them out.

Truthfully, Laataaz knew they really ought to just stop saving the bright-eyed, fresh-faced young mage from his own folly in repeatedly entering Mephala’s realm, seeking out a Dragonborn whose crimes and sentence were better left forgotten, kept safe away from the world. At least when Mephala brought Laataaz out to kill some other godling or beast that rose up to upset the Prince’s careful game, they could close their eyes to the task and simply add another sin to their sentence. But this – this, was temptation the likes of which Laataaz had not faced for centuries.

With his soul, they could be free of the Skein. It had been so long since they had eaten a dragon-soul, and every time he came near them they felt that emptiness within them howl its hunger. How sweet would his struggles be, if Laataaz wrapped him in their silken spider-threads? How lovely would his heaving chest be fighting for air, as they suffocated him in the thirsty darkness of their cocoon, sticky web anchoring each struggling limb? Would his blood taste of Nirn under Laat’s jaws?

Laataaz swallowed, feeling the acidic burn of venom pooling down their throat, their stomach. Would he shiver and sweat, if they gave him their poison? Was his mortal body strong enough to bear it, or would Laataaz only tear him apart?

Would he cry, if they hurt him, if they betrayed the foolish trust he should not have placed in them? Would the pleasure of his soul be worth the pain?

Not that Miraak seemed to care about the danger he put himself in with each trip. He thought that the greatest threats came from the daedra that lived in this infinite web, and pursued the true monster that haunted its shrouded depths guilelessly. Laataaz’s Prince had to be amused.

Laataaz ducked into the shadows of the leaning webs stringing the darkness between the spokes of Mephala’s Wheel, hoping to lose him, then plunged their hands into the stickiness of their home for the past few thousand years and skittered up, surely as any true child of the Webspinner. They hoped he would spot the unnatural movements of their body, the clicking of the ancient scales wrapping dully over their armour, the glitter of their eyelike scars, more, they thought, then they had once had, and fear the darkness they disappeared into.

Annoyingly, Miraak hesitated not at all before following them. He pushed his hood off shading his eyes and flipped up his snow-goggles, seeming, if anything, relieved. He stopped stumbling around so much, too, Laataaz could feel fewer spiders crushed under his heavy Nordic boots.

“This is better,” he called up in shaky Dovahzul, “It reminds me of home.”

The webs shook when he boldly forced footholds into them and climbed after them doggedly. Stubborn as a Dovah, Laataaz thought, and hissed. He was lucky that his gloves and boots had been made thickly and well, Laataaz could feel the black widow gnawing at the leather, trying to get into the unknowing blood beneath.

“Wherever you go,” he said, “I will follow you, I will learn your secrets, Dragonborn!”

“Leave him alone,” they ordered in sharp jerks of sign to the creatures of the web stirring in irritation as he shook and bothered their homes, their cocoons, “This is my prey.”

“Is that sign language? Who are you talking to?” Miraak asked, forgetting Dovahzul, then cursed as he manoeuvred around the slack face of a half-eaten daedra that had been too slow to avoid the plots of his fellows, and spun into the digestive darkness. The bones were always last to go – Laataaz heard the daedra’s teeth rattle free of the softened gums and clink on the distant floor.

His voice was closer, closer, but Laataaz faced away, clinging to the web and pressing their mask into its soft yield. Akatosh, would he forgive Laataaz for taking this prize who kept offering himself up, for stealing the last hope of Nirn to thwart Alduin’s destiny? Laataaz wanted to eat his soul so badly. This was why they deserved to stay in their prison! Did he not know of the blood that soaked Laataaz’s fate?

Miraak swore behind them, closer than they had expected him to be, and Laataaz’s eyes flew open as they felt the whole structure of the webs shake. Executioner they might be, but there were many other daedra in the webs, hiding from the light but observing the confrontation, and Laataaz would spare their lives, their brittle carapaces, if they could.

“It’s coming down!” he shouted, and Laataaz acted.

They swung down from their knees, letting the webs hold them, and spun spider-silk from the spurs of their robes. Sticky and pearly-white, it caught him, held him struggling like a butterfly against the roof of the web. A Word had the webs still, shivering at their power, and Miraak’s eyes were wide, his cheeks rosy as he swung upside down.

He would faint if they left him there, Laataaz knew, and felt the burn of venom as they swallowed. Already his face was filling with blood, an artificial blush that pinked his cheeks and the tips of his ears. The curls of his dark ringlets pulled long like a cloud, swung as he struggled once, twice, instinctively trying to move his trapped legs.

“You are strong,” he breathed in something that might have been a laugh, something that made Laataaz’s heart jerk and warmth pool in the base of their spine, “Stronger than I believed possible. The secrets you possess…” He trailed off, but the hunger was loud and unspoken.

How he wanted.

Laataaz touched him, spreading over his chest. Little spiders, jewel-eyed and curious, ventured from the folds of darkness under their clothing, under their bruised nails, the hollow of their palms, and scuttled free, exploring the shape of him, mapping the sturdiness of his neck, the exposed shell of his pointed ears, tangling into his long locks. They closed their eyes and sucked in a hollowing breath. How warm he felt to the rasping hooks of their small legs, their burrowing bodies, to Laataaz within them.

Miraak twisted and twitched uncomfortably when he felt their tickling legs on him, but he did not push them away. The shreds of their priest gauntlets – torn when Laataaz had grown more fingers than they had been made for – still gleamed with a faintness of the old enchantments, the only light between them. Venom dripped freely out of their mouth, ran stinging towards their eyes. No matter how much they swallowed, more welled up, bitter with desire to sink their teeth into him, paralyse him, set his blood alight with poison-fire.

They had never been strong where it counted.

“Pretend at aloofness all you like,” his voice rumbled and jarred the bones of their hand, shook Laataaz’s soul where it hungered, hungered. “I know you want this.”

He jerked awkwardly, trying to reach them – with a look, Laataaz wrapped the offending hand in spider-thread. No movement from him, nothing, they were busy marvelling over the rise and fall of his breathing where they pushed his chest. The Last Dragonborn was so greedy with his breath, so steady, so assured that there would always be more. Had he never been choked to the starving of it before?

“Your actions speak when you refuse to. You are curious, you must be.” He said it like a prayer, like they were a prayer. “Don’t you want to know? Have you met any other Dragonborn? There is so, so much more to be done, Alduin rises, think of all we could learn, the power we could wield!”

Laataaz said nothing.

“Are you not glad I am here at all?” Miraak said, and there was pain in him when he spoke those words with an uncharacteristic crack. They slanted their mask to look at him. Did he think himself lonely, this fool of the new age? Did he think he understood the meaning of solitude?

“Niid,” Laataaz ground out in Dovahzul archaic and stony. They had not spoken to a mortal for so long words crumbled like dust when they felt them with their tongue. But for him, this foolish young Dragonborn, the Last, they forced themselves to speak their first words in centuries. Would he appreciate this forked gift? They doubted it. “You are a foolish mortal, fumbling at powers he does not understand, nothing more. You are weak.”

Their lie struck his heart true, and he reeled. Laataaz had hurt him, they could see it in his eyes. Guilt was a familiar emptiness as Laataaz pulled away. They turned to go, turning their back on him, his hope, his persistence. Their webs were not indestructible, he would free himself before he passed out. Probably.

Better he learn this, if he wanted to so badly. Better he learn that Laataaz was good for only a few things, blood and death and pain. Better he get stung, and so learn his lesson to stop planting his hand in the viper’s nest and pushing self-control Laataaz had felt wither long ago. Back before they had understood this inherent truth about themselves – Laataaz was a monster, and no one around them survived for long.

Had not they started a war that had massacred hundreds, for the want of freedom that had been nothing more than a lie? Had they not listened to the whispers of a Prince and took the power that was offered, in their foolish naivete, believing they could help, believing they could save lives from dragon-fire and dragon-claw? Had they not made their monstrousness clear in their flesh?

There was no easy way out of destiny. There was no secrets Laataaz knew that had not been paid for with the blood and suffering of their people. The only thing Miraak could learn from them was how to be stronger and end it before it got that far with himself. Before he began to believe that his power was anything but a curse of pain and death.

Soul-eater. Executioner. Laataaz gulped down more venom. They were so hungry. It had been so long since Mephala had required them to kill any usurper to her plots.

“Then I don’t care,” Miraak snarled, “I must know!”

A flame cloak roared to life around him and Laataaz shrieked as they felt the spiders on him explode into popping sparks and snaps. He lurched forward and seized their ankle to anchor himself as he swung out unmoored over the empty abyss. Laataaz was too slow in their shock at his anger, at the pain – too slow, too slow to stop the pain, the death, the burning! They screamed, instead, their voice shattering the webs. They felt them die, they could feel them dying there were so many hiding in Laataaz’s armour, their webs, their home-!

“Prince of Knowledge, hear my cry!” Miraak’s intonation boomed around them, the flaming Last with his Voice of thunder, “Gardener of Man! Assist your servant in the pact that was promised!”

They were falling, the webs sticky ash in Laataaz’s clutching hands, the fire brilliant and snapping the dry kindling of their robes, their body, their foul burning flesh bubbling and spitting with poison. Laataaz screamed, and screamed, and screamed even when the oily tentacles burst out of the unholy rictus of green light spilling from Miraak’s hand and swarmed over them, their body, eyes, their mouth.

The oily coldness of the tentacles smothered the fire, choked out Mephala’s hissing, formed muscular coils thick as snakes and yanked. Down, down, down, through the portal that scratched and scraped thorny on ancient flesh, then out.

Nirn, unbearable and real, and through it all Miraak’s hand on their leg, firm as a shackle despite Laataaz’s thrashing. Earth sprayed and thundered – the green light died – they were a crumble of robes and armour, Laataaz snapping like a wildcat. But they knew, knew –

“Fucking Hermeaus Mora!?” Laataaz shouted, twisted round and punched Miraak so hard his teeth rattled in his jaw. “You bartered with Mora for this? To free me?”

“Yes!” Miraak yelled back, “Wait – you do understand Cyrodillic!”

“I will kill you! Are you such a fool that you learnt nothing from what happened to me?”

Laataaz shoved him until he stumbled and wrestled him to the ground, so angry they sprayed venom that spat hissing holes into the earth inches-deep. He had the height advantage but he was weaker than Laataaz, taken by surprise. Fuck Bormahu, fuck Fate, Laataaz was going to strangle him.

“I’m sorry,” Miraak flared, angry pride smarting even as he struggled, “Would you have preferred to languish in hell for centuries, no good to anyone at all?”

“Yes!” Laat threw up their hands, ignoring the spider gamely clinging to the back of their hand that went flying at the movement. “What did you promise that tree-snake Dovahkiin?!” They fisted their hands into his robes and slammed him into the ground.

He groaned at the impact, but the damnable fool was beginning to smile, eyes bright at finally, finally, doing something too stupid for Laataaz to ignore. “Calm down,” Miraak said, and he reached for them, ignoring how Laataaz flinched away. His hands cupped their shoulders then squeezed. Laataaz felt the pressure of his clawed fingertips under his gloves digging divots into their skin under the armour. With an unseen scowl, they shook him off with a twist of their torso. “It was a simple pact, already paid. And here you are.”

He frowned, and if his disappointment was not accompanied by a smile so insufferably proud of himself Laataaz might have believed it. “Are you not even excited to return to Nirn?”

Nirn. Laataaz’s eyes closed, their grip tightening on the front of his robes convulsively. Yes, Nirn.

It was – loud. They could hear a sweet song, fluttering and chirping – were those birds? Birds, among long grass that rasped and swayed, yes, Nirn had grass, it had birds and skies for them to fly in. It had wind, piercing and sure, that ruffled at the ties of Laataaz’s armour and the thick strings of web that hung from their arms, the wattle of their horns where they speared through the hood of their mask, and tugged the threads of the spiders that curled curious in the balding clumps of what remained of their hair until they moved, clung closer to Laataaz’s skin to seek safety there.

Laataaz tried to breathe in and coughed instead, years of web-dust and silk clogging their throat and nasal passages. The air was so cold it made their teeth hurt. It was intense. It was terrible. It was wonderful. It was to be the doom of the world.

Tentatively, as if they could not quite believe this was not some dream, some nightmare, they tilted their head towards the sky and opened their eyes, just a crack. Light so bright it was agony blazed, seared, struck into Laataaz’s weakened eyes. Laat cried out and clapped their hands over their eyes, fearful, suddenly, that they were burning.

Miraak acted immediately. He swept his cloak over their head, casting them into the darkness. The shadow comforted them, his head the only other, mounding the tent they made with the cloak and their bodies. Laataaz pressed their hands over the eyeholes of their mask until the grooves dug into their gauntlets and hunched from the pain. But they were not burning, no flame licked their cobwebs or dusty skin, no heat save the Last Dragonborn beneath them, the curl of his breath. It was Nirn. It was Nirn. He had freed Laataaz. He had freed the monster that was never supposed to be unchained again.

Miraak’s hands found their shoulders again, rubbing them through their robes. Laat thought it was supposed to be soothing. He came close again, undaunted, as before, by the thrust of daedric horns, the cling of cobwebs, the eyes that glittered like onyx-shards, watering with venom that scored the dirt like fingermarks when it dripped. Undaunted by Laataaz, First Dragonborn, executioner, soul-eater, prisoner-no-longer, his enemy by fate and perhaps one day necessity.

His touch was electric.

“I was raised in the sweet darkness below the earth to a mother betrayed by dead-elves long ago,” Miraak murmured, “I did not need eyes there. My ears and nose saw for me, my feet learnt the paths, and the chaurus I fed from suckling pupa guided me where there was uncertainty. I knew everything. I was not encouraged to come to the land of my father, though I wanted to learn its knowledge, because it is a place of pain and grief. I remember when I first came to walk in the sunlit lands, I was in constant agony. My skin burned. I grew sick with sun-fever, and I knew not where I walked. I thought – what kindness it would be, to have no eyes at all. But I bore this inheritance from my father, because they are useful in Shouting dragons from the sky. Useful, but unnecessary. Your eyes may adjust, but if they do not, I will help you.”

Laataaz groaned. His promise was earthen-solid. It sunk in their belly like a chain. The world was so much, and he was so rich, so incredible, so sincere, Laat wanted to bite into him and steal all that vibrancy and colour for their own. How strong his soul would be, under the thunder of his heart. How unguarded it would be, with this foolish trust he kept extending, like he didn’t know how badly Laataaz wanted to consume him. He had to know. He had to feel the same. Was he not a soul-eater, too?

“I have unlocked this sunlit land now,” Miraak whispered, low and intense, “I am learning of dragons, and soon I will have all the knowledge they possess. And I will know you. Laataaz. The final mercy of the dragons.”

His hands came up their shoulders, stroking over their epaulettes, thumbing the line of their neck, tender with wonder, and Laataaz repressed a shiver. He could feel it, no doubt, where his body was a warm, living thing between their legs, the places where their muscles met through skin and fabric and bone.

“I would know you,” Miraak repeated, and he pulled at the hood of Laataaz’s mask where it was tucked into their robes.

“Niid,” Laataaz breathed, but their shaking hands curled into the eyeholes of their mask did not stop him as he lifted the fabric, bearing Laataaz’s throat to the air for the first time in millennia. To his tentative caress, which pressed there in cartwheels of fire. His touch ran over their back in an indulgence of contact, heavy, drugging rubs over their tight muscles through the robes that made Laataaz’s stinging eyes squeeze shut and their head tip back with low gasps that were pulled from their sternum half-formed, foetal and broken.

“This hurts you,” Miraak observed, and his hands withdrew. “I don’t-“

Laat chased him when he made to pull away, slamming into his chest and pressing him back against the earth. The cloak folded around their heads in silken darkness and they gripped his wrists, trapping those clawed and clever hands between their bodies. They heard his shocked inhale, felt more than understood the heat that bloomed between them. They tightened their grip until they felt the bones bend under their hand and Miraak moaned.

“Ow,” he gasped, and Laataaz fought not to crush him harder.

The vibrations of his voice thrummed through his body, his stomach trembling with his breath, and Laataaz clumsily chased forwards until the metal of their mask bumped his forehead. Their tears dripped from the eyeholes to kiss his cheeks. The bared skin of their throat tingled and itched.

“I should kill you,” one of them whispered, and Laataaz’s dizzy mind was not entirely sure which. Maybe neither of them. Maybe it was just Laataaz’s hunger. “Fight me,” that was Miraak, earnest as snow-melt. “Train me – when you are healed, let me taste your full power-“

“There are better ways to learn the shape of a person,” Laataaz heard themselves say in a voice that shook the earth, that shook him. “If you are so set on this mistake you would trade your soul for it.”

“I don’t understand,” Miraak snapped. His wrists flexed helplessly against their grip. Laataaz squeezed him tighter, until his breathing paled with pain.

“You have won me from my Prince for now, but you will die to my poison before you triumph over me,” they promised him.

“I need to learn to defeat Alduin,” he said stubbornly. Laataaz growled.

“You don’t know what you need, foolish boy.” Laataaz’s hunger thrummed between them, and they felt him react to it, their words, both, with a moan that they fought to ignore. “That, I will teach you...”

They brushed their mask down lower and let their mouth stretch open, yearningly, venom pooling out their mouth and dripping over the lip. It burned him where it fell, marked his skin with its sting, and Miraak hissed.

“…even if it kills you.”

#inkwrites #timeswap au #my fic prisoner of the skein #laataazin #miraak #skyrim #elder scrolls #laataazin x miraak #miraak is probably like 27 in this #god its weird writing this age gap the other way around lol

[nildespirandum]

Transmogrification -  A Loki Drabble

-from an idea by @dianamolloy​

Nora woke up with a snake in her bed.

She became aware of it when she tried to roll over and couldn’t, being firmly wrapped up in some of its spare, iron-hard coils.  Lifting her head, she could see that it was so large it took up most of the free space on the mattress, parts of it were wound about one of the thick wooden posts, and even hung like emerald swags from the top of the frame.  

Sighing, she considered.  When she had gone to bed it hadn’t been there.  She had been exhausted after several days of travel and sleeping badly but a gigantic snake she still would have noticed.   

She had slept right through it slithering across and around her.  

For a few, fruitless moments she struggled which did nothing but wake the enormous thing up.  All it did was leave her more tired than she already was.

Serpenting about her, so its slick scales gave soft rasps over the bare skin of her arm, her waist, her ankle, it’s big, triangular head on the pillow beside her opened its black, bottomless eyes.  

Sleepily, upon seeing her, it gave a kind of stretch that made the loops around her tighten for a moment, not too hard but almost like a snuggle, then loosened a bit so she was able to move a bit more than before.  

After, it moved its head so its snout almost touched her nose and blinked slowly in viperish flirtation, as one of its coils moved just ever so slightly higher on her leg.  Intrusively high.  Proprietarily high.

“Goddamn it, Loki, there are lines even we are not going to cross.  Yet.  Now let me get up, I can’t sleep anymore.”

Her spouse looked at her for a moment, and despite not having the ability to speak, or even lips, or eyebrows, Loki was still entirely eloquent.  Nora wasn’t getting up until it was convinced she had gotten proper rest.

Being married to a shapeshifter - no, to the shapeshifter - meant there had been more than a few times that she had gone to bed with a male Asgardian god and woken up with a male Jotun, a female Asgardian, a female Jotun, Asgardians and Jotuns of more than one or no particular gender, as well as various animals whose gender she neither could nor would ascertain.

A wolf that gave off a faint, silver glow.

A raven larger than an eagle that tore open the pillows trying to perch, leaving everything carpeted in white feathers.

A swan that was a total dickhead.

A nest of spiders that was the closest they had ever come to breaking up.

Various types of smaller dragons, a black on black striped tiger with jade eyes, a salmon that she barely got into the tub in time, a spaniel that was the same size that the tiger had been, and a fox.  

Just a normal fox, curled up next to her with its nose tucked under its beautiful tail.

It was the cutest fucking thing.  

Nora literally begged him to turn into a fox again and lay on her lap.  Often.  

He did it every year for her birthday, but for no more than an hour and told her that if anyone ever found out he’d never forgive her, which she knew was a lie but she kept it their little secret anyway.

And now an enormous fucking snake, with irridescent scales and fangs that, when it yawned at her, glimmered like crystal, dripped a bit of fragrant venom, and gave Nora pause no matter how certain she was Loki would never hurt her.

When she worried they were a sign of deep-seated problems he was refusing to deal with Loki had just pulled her against him and kissed the top of her head.  “Treasure, I can assure you, sometimes a shifter just has to shift.”

She’d had a t-shirt made for him that said that.

He refused to wear it.

“Seriously, Loki, I’m fine.  Let me up.”  

There wasn’t so much as a flicker of one of his closed eyes, though he again snuggled her closer and moved his head so his face was buried against her neck.  

It was oddly comforting. 

“Fine.  But remember this the next time you don’t get enough rest,” she said with a yawn.

In their closet the magical chain she kept to deal with him when he was not taking proper care of himself shivered in anticipation, coiling around itself as Nora fell asleep.  

@caffiend-queen​  @just-the-hiddles​  @dianamolloy​  @dangertoozmanykids101​ @toozmanykids​  @myoxisbroken​  @archy3001​  @devils-queen​  @antigonemorris​  @wrathkitty​  @someillplanetreigns​  @sylviefromneptune @evieplease​

#loki fanfic #loki AU #shapeshifting #loki and nora's infinity stone playlist

[abizarreyodelingincident]

LU: Our Nightly Confidant 2

Deserted Hyrule

It could be worse.

Don't get him wrong. He'd gone through far more dangerous situations with not nearly as much ressources, or the faint hope that someone would notice and come help him. He's actually fairly confident he won't die in this ditch. A few factors led him to that conclusion.

For starters, his legs are no longer broken. And he isn't in his Hyrule, so chances are, he's not in immediate and urgent danger of being found by hungry monsters. Which is a very big positive note, because he currently can't do much more than lift a finger. Healing takes a lot out of him, but healing himself is so much worse. Taking his own energy to repair the damage, also a demanding thing to ask of his body... well, he's pretty resigned to spending the night at the bottom of this ravine if none of the others find him before nightfall.

Light is dimming, already hindered by the thick foliage all around him, worsened by the imminent sunset. Shadows crawl on the dirt and the bark of trees, tall spindly things. And yet, it still lacks the sort of venomous promises of home. Back home, no one slept in a forest if they could help it. No one with the will to live, at least. Here? He has the feeling he'll, at worse, be spooked once or twice.

The wind turns, again, and it strokes his hair like a kind old man's hand would. It's strange how appeasing the whistling in his ears feel reassuring. It's nothing like he is used to. Winds don't just stop and start all over again naturally. There's a presence in these woods. Something ancient, tied in the blood of the land. Some Hyrules feel more alive than others. This one is striving, brimmed with an undercurrent of Light.

Twilight had told them not to wander into the woods. It's got a lot of hidden ravines, he said, and poison mists. Hyrule cringes a bit remembering the heavy look aimed at him and Wild. Were he able to travel through time, he'd tell his past self to pay attention. He might have been too confident in his ability to avoid the danger. Poison and sheer drops should have been second nature for him at this point. Between his fairy and his jump spell, he had this covered.

That's probably why he fell now that he thinks about it. He never thought bushes could hide that kind of drop. They never grew around the mountains and hills of his era. The thought brings heat to his cheeks. The Hero of Hyrule, laid low by some harmless bushes.

“Maybe it's best the others don't find me right away. An hour, give or take, and I'll be able to scale this,” he mutters to himself, blushing.

The snap of a twig grips his heart in a vice grip. With what little energy he has, Hyrule snaps his head around to face a large shadowed wolf.

“W-Wolfie?” he asks, his voice uneven.

The bark that is his reply somehow sounds sarcastic. A drawled 'woof' that's like rumbling clouds.

“Huh.”

Despite his better judgement, Hyrule does relax. It's hard not to when faced with something that baffling.

“The others sent you to get me?” he says, remembering the last time the beast had spent hours leading him and Wild through the woods. That glare scorched. “Right, right... huh, think you could wait a few minutes.”

It's not much better tonight.

“Sorry, Wolfie. I got injured in the fall. I healed, but it's taken its toll.”

Worry makes the wolf's face shift. A cold nose pushes against his foot, and Hyrule chuckles at the tickling sensation.

“I'm fine. It's... just a bit of rest should do the trick... I give you a lot of work, don't I?” I am a burden, a failure, he doesn't say.  

With a huff, Wolfie rolls his eyes and lifts his head. For a second there, Hyrule has to blink, convinced the light of dusk is playing a trick on him, but no, Wolfie's fur is darkening. From grey to black. Like ink spilled on top of him, bleeding over his entire form until even his eyes are swallowed into the darkness.

He flinches back, willing his hand to grab his sword. Ache, he thinks. He's been a fool! He was so willing to believe his luck had turned he'd forgotten the most basic safety precautions of his time!

Blocks of darkness fly off Wolfie's silhouette, which somehow doesn't change. Doesn't stretch into a standing position and a face full of mocking fangs. Wolfie disappears in a flurry of pure black and Hyrule's brain stutters to a miserable stop.

And then, just above, the darkness gathers, swirls together. And out emerges Wolfie, same as ever, with the markings on his forehead and the chains clanking against the edges of the ravine. Teleportation.

“You can use magic?!” Hyrule yells, forgetting all about keeping a low profile in the face of that shock. Animals aren't supposed to know magic! Most monsters can't use it!

For some reason Hyrule can't wrap his head around, his shout causes Wolfie to pause. His next movement is more careful, a little more hunched, and he disappears beyond the edge of the cliff, a hint of his tail the only sign that Wolfie has turned around.

Sky would tell him that it's another sign that Hylia is watching over them. That she sent Wolfie as a sort of messenger to pass along hope. Something like that. And Legend would have the hardest time keeping his disdain off his face. For all he was prickly, he also had a sixth sense for what was and wasn't an unacceptable line to cross.

Hyrule... Hyrule doesn't know who he leans toward in that case. Before this quest, he'd have no clue, not because he was uncertain, but because he didn't know what a goddess was supposed to be then. Now that he does, it lacks... appeal. It doesn't help that none of the others can exactly agree who and what the goddesses of the world are, what's the point of belief.

'Faith that there's a way to save yourself,' rings Legend's bitten answer, whispered late at night.

It's probably a coincidence that the moment the memory plays out rope drops quite directly into his hand.

Wolfie is looking down, a low huff and nod for him to grab onto the rope. Even though his every limbs are weighted with iron, he has to give it a fair try.

And he drops the moment he's on his feet.

The dizziness hits worse with the echoes of a panicked bark over the howling wind. He has to close his eyes for a second. What he wouldn't give for a potion right now.

A rough texture licks the back of his hand. It's not anything he ever got to experience before. What few dogs he knew before this were more the sort to bite than offer comfort. And that's what it is, comfort, an apology, maybe, for pushing. Slowly, he opens his eyes, comes face to face with Wolfie, who lets out a pitiful whine.

“Sorry,” Hyrule repeats. “I don't think I can climb that.”

The ears flick on top of Wolfie's head, and he grabs the rope in his mouth. Circles him quickly. Oh. That could work. Together, they manage to tie the rope around his waist, secure it tightly, and Wolfie's gone again. The tugs start right away.

It's uncomfortable at best, but he's not about to complain. Who ever heard of a wolf pulling someone up a cliff before? Throwing someone a length of rope? He figures the discomfort is his punishment for not listening. It doesn't last long regardless. He has to blink back the sleep when his back scrapes on dirt. Groans. Thinks.

Now that he knows Wolfie can use magic, the scolding feels even worse. He's not scared. Just... the weight of those eyes grew. It's not just Wild's tame wolf being sent after him. It's a thinking beast annoyed at his recklessness. He should know better, the glare inside his head tells him.

He bites his tongue. The words don't want to come out.

Wolfie crouches low and nudges him with his nose, hints at his back. An invitation. It makes shame curdle inside his stomach. He can feel it sloshing around. The ravine suddenly sounds appealing. But he can't do that to Wolfie. Not twice in a row. He only has to swallow a bit of embarrassment. He's lucky. So lucky. Most people just die.

Few people ever seem to live in his era.

Wolfie's fur is still unfairly soft even when he can feel the rolling muscles underneath. He lies on top of Wolfie, his arms hooked around the beast's neck, hoping he's not too heavy.

Wolfie makes an inquisitive sound, almost a question.

It takes Hyrule some time to realize he's waiting for an answer too.

“I, yes, I'm ready,” he says, wishing to disappear.

They start at a slow trot. His weight is an obvious burden for the beast he's seen rocket through a battlefield to maul a monster about to strike one of them. His next apology might not even be said out loud. Hyrule's not sure anymore.

Wolfie feels like a well-hidden cave or a barricaded inn room at night. Deep breathes after a sprint to escape a horde. The buzz of magic in his veins, full, potent, ready to fry a daring monster. Face half-buried in his friend's coat, Hyrule's eyelids grow heavy. The exhaustion of his accident, pushed aside by the meeting with Wolfie, is returning with a vengeance.

He listens to the rhythm of Wolfie's steady heartbeat. The breaking of twigs and brushing of leaves on fur. Little grunts when the wolf goes over large roots and the scritches of claws on bark.

“I... I used to be pretty scared of wandering off, you know?” he whispers into the wall of fur.

Wolfie swerves and twists, his big head turning just enough to give Hyrule a glimpse of a wide blue eye. Shock is an understatement.

He can't help it. He chuckles and runs a hand just behind Wolfie's ears, the way Time does on rare occasions. He is rewarded with a huff and a jolt when Wolfie picks up the pace again.

“It's a dangerous business, going out your doors. So I never did, until one day there was no one left and the food had run out. Then an old man gave me a sword. That's the kindest thing a stranger ever did for me,” he says, fond, the bearded old man flashing through his memory.

A quiet whine rings to his ears. Wolfie's posture lowers. Hyrule can't quite tell what it means. Is the wolf tired? Ashamed? Exasperated? He's not sure. But now that he started talking, it's harder to stop.

“Once in a while, I'd meet people that would help me. Offer me shelter. Help me treat my wounds. But nothing like that first time. When I first wandered around, past the little alcove that had been my home forever, into the great vastness of my country. And it was a hundred times bigger than I could imagine from my little hole in the ground. That old man... gave me the world.”

Fireflies fly above, and Hyrule leaves his thoughts to trail off. These woods are lovely. Yes, even with the hidden drops and the ravines with whistling winds, with the deku babas here and there that leer at the wolf too far for them to reach... all he sees is a forest thriving, so full of life it's in the very air he breathes.

“I... Poisonous mists didn't sound so bad. I've got tons of poisonous rivers, full of hostile zoras. Poisonous swamps, full of monsters. Heck, poisonous caves too... My Hyrule's pretty harsh, y'know?”

A grunt. Not angry. Just... a grunt.

“Don't get me wrong, it's my home. I love it. And I'm not jealous. I'm not!”

Even though Wolfie is looking forward, never faltering from the obstacles on his path, Hyrule can feel Wolfie's full attention bearing down on him. Can feel the anticipation, the worry. And a knot in his chest unties itself long enough for a fear never voiced to suddenly latch onto words and thoughts.

“But how will I look the princesses in the eye if I can't even describe to them what the world would be like without Ganon's influence? If I can't give them hope for a bright future when I've been to those futures myself? I don't want to fail them.”

Fur soaks up a stray tear or two.

His tongue refuses to move anymore. They make the rest of the trip in silence.

                                                  ***

The others, indeed, hadn't been very pleased, but Hyrule had more or less fallen asleep before the eldests (minus Twilight somehow) had finished berating him. He'd woken up just before dawn, greeted Four still on the third watch, and busied himself until the inevitable. He's not looking forward to the concealed worry on Legend's face or the exasperation on Warriors'.

He hovers on the outskirts of the camp.

Which is where he notices, at first lights, their goatherd breaking away from the group. 'Probably going to relieve himself' is Hyrule's guess. It could have been true, but when the others start stirring, Hyrule's hit by a bunch of nerves. Nothing wrong happened to Twilight, right? It's his era, he can't have been taken out by a surprise cliff, right?

He takes off in the direction he saw his elder leave. And, luckily, he's easy to spot in the plains of Hyrule Fields. There's little but grass and the occasional tree here. Yet, Twilight's crouching behind a rock.

Puzzled, Hyrule lowers himself to the ground and tiptoes near Twilight.

“What's going on? Is there an enemy nearby?”

Twilight hides part of his grin by putting a finger to his lips. In his other hand, he's holding some strange weapon. With a long wooden handle and then a circular hand, with... a cloth hood? He... is that something to suffocate your enemy? It's a violent thought, and he doesn't quite associate it with Twilight, their farmhand, their goatherd, who'll whistle with grass on a slow evening.

It's twice as strange for the lack of visible monsters around. He prays it's not another round of  moas or kasutos...

Responding to an unheard signal, Twilight stalks forward. Crawls on his knees, slow and patient. The pelt on his back is coming alive in Hyrule's mind. He needs to blink, to chase away the image of a wild animal, and by the time he does, Twilight is pouncing, weapon striking a tree.

“Gotcha,” Twilight says, pumping a fist.

“Huh?” He couldn't see a thing. Did he forget the cross somewhere...?

“Hyrule, come here.”

Twilight's hands are cupped together, hiding something from view. It immediately tickles his curious side, who can't help lean forward.

He gasps.

The bug's shell glimmers in the morning light. Specks of dust around it catch its glow. Sparkle. He's never seen an animal like this. With hesitant fingers, he makes a reaching motion. A very faint hums of magic brushes against his finger before the beetle scurries backward. That's Twilight's cue, it seems, and the bug is dropped into a glass bottle, cork sealing it in. He can't help the pang of envy that pierces through his heart at the sight.

Twilight rubs the back of his neck, rueful. “Never been big on going out of my village, it's the farmer in me, but darn if some things don't feel worth the risk. Home's nice, but Hyrule as a whole... s'a place of wonder for me.”

“It is,” Hyrule says, unable to quite look away from the little thing.

“Want to keep it?”

And Hyrule's heart is sent into a stuttering mess, his hands clenching around the little glass bottle so hard he fears it'll break.

“I... can I?”

He doesn't dare hope yet.

Twilight's mouth pulls into a wry grin. “Sure thing. Bit of a hobby of mine at this point. Bug catching, I mean. There's this girl in Castletown that used to pay me to find some for her. I scoured my whole Hyrule looking to find all the golden bug species. Fetched me a pretty rupee.”

“Oh, huh, right, lemme see how much I-”

“Don't be daft, 'Rule,” Twilight says, slapping him between his shoulder blades. “You don't make brothers pay. 'specially not for a bug, of all things. I'll find a dozen the next time I look. Mind you, you might wanna check on 'em once you're back. Queen Zelda told me them buggers can spread like nobody's business. They think each other's shell's pretty too.”

A wink.

And there's a vision in his mind, of golden lights fluttering through Saria Town at night. Of colonies of radiant ants scuttering in the burning hills and shining dragonflies hanging from reeds. He thinks of that gentle warmth from the beetle's shell, spread like dots over ravaged countryside. Little, in the face of poisoned wells and bone-thin monsters. Little, just a sign that it's not only evil that thrives. Would that be so bad?

Hyrule's mouth feels a bit dry. He swallows, dares meet Twilight's gaze. “Would it be okay if... if we looked for more of them?”

Twilight's blue eyes – nearly the same shade as Wild's wolf – flicker back to the camp, and Hyrule fights to keep the disappointment off his face. Of course. Twilight is one of the responsible Heroes. Someone the others say has 'common sense' – that Hyrule never seems to grasp. Going on a bug catching quest was a nice thought, but they obviously can't. They have a mission. The others would disapprove.  

And then, Twilight turns back to him with a look that's startlingly like Wild's. “How fast can you run?”

He stalls. “I, dunno, the monsters never caught me, but-”

“Good enough for me.”

The bug net is shoved into Hyrule's hands, and it's all he can do to grip it before it slips through his fingers. Yet the moment he's holding it, Twilight bolts, waving a hand to beckon him.

This... this he can do. Running's easy. Stamina's simple. He's never had trouble pacing himself. It's easy, comforting, to sprint after Twilight's back. For once, his eyes don't wander to the breathtaking beauty of a Hyrule spared the King of Evil's malice. They stay firmly on the black pelt strapped to Twilight's back, the swaying tail at his belt, the pulled hood and ears. There's the same comfort there, the same... magic he found in resting his head against Wolfie's fur. The same promise. Safety.

It's not a feeling he is used to. But he loves it.

And he runs, a wide smile on his face, already eager to show the princesses the wonders that their Hyrule might one day have.

#Linked Universe #Linkeduniverse #LU Twilight #LU Hyrule #LU Wolfie

[horrorslashergirl]

Hunter meeting Hunter

A Xaviera Lah-Mo and Andrei Kulokova Story Chapter 3

Authors Note: Wow....This one is long, but I was in such a big writing mood for these two that I had to do it. We learn some of Xaviera’s memories, we see some sparks flying and we see how two souls bond into one.

Chapter 1 HERE

Chapter 2 HERE

Xaviera Lah-Mo belongs to me

Andrei Kulokova @the-slasher-files​

Warnings: 18+ because there are sexual scenes and straight up SMUT

Words: 5.8k

After that incident, Xaviera stayed the rest of the night preparing for the hunt; cleaning her sniper rifle, a weapon that took the life of so many poachers across the globe, from Asia to Africa and even Europe, annihilating greedy humans that wanted to take lives of animals for their own egoistical gains.

Then there were the small arrows. She smirked, remembering how some mocked the small weapons, insignificant at first glance, but only if they knew what they packed, they would have thought twice.

Xaviera learned that size sometimes doesn't help you when faced with a creature that has enough venom to put down an elephant. Her favorites were the snake neurotoxins, like the one of the black African mamba, it's venom could kill a human in 20 minutes if you don't have the anti-venom. It was like a ticking bomb.

Then the venom of the King Cobra; its bite delivers a tremendous amount of paralysis-inducing neurotoxins. The snake’s venom is so strong and so voluminous that it can kill an elephant in just a few hours. Death also results in at least 50 to 60 percent of untreated human cases.

Oxyuranus microlepidotus, also called, appropriately, the fierce snake; Xaviera remembers encountering this deadly snake. She witnessed it during one of the expeditions and one of the researchers got bitten. The venom consists of taipoxin, a complex mix of neurotoxins, procoagulants, and myotoxins that paralyze muscles, inhibit breathing, cause hemorraging in blood vessels and tissues, and damage muscles. The researcher didn't survive; a single drop of venom from the reptile can supposedly kill 100 men.

It left many experts dumbfounded, but Xaviera learned to respect that snake.

'Respect what can kill you.' That's what her father used to tell her when she was little.

'Never underestimate the size of some creatures.' he also would say.

Sitting down at the table, injecting the hallow arrows with the specific venoms, her mind drifted to the memories of when her father would take her to his travels, teaching her all the basic surviving tactics, how to approach certain animals.

'You can look, but you can't touch.' he would instruct her, especially when they encountered very majestic animals, like the banded krait. It was a beautiful snake, it's scaling in obsidian black and strong yellow, but when her father told her that the neurotoxin it sported can induce paralysis, she quickly nodded.

Xaviera missed him so much, and her mother too. She would always patch  Xaviera up when she got hurt, also teaching her medical tactics, how to stop hemorrhage, how to properly disinfect a wound and stitch it up.

The white-haired woman closed her eyes; she was getting emotional and that was a dangerous thing to do, considering the predicament she was into. She needed to remember that there was also a predator with her in the cottage.

For now, he seemed unharmful. If he so badly had wanted, he could have killed her by now.

'Never let your guard down when you are surrounded by wild creatures.' her father's words echoed in her head.

She swallowed hard, remembering one time when she was careless, her young age and immaturity showed back then.

She went with her father on a small trip close to their homes in North America, in dense forests to observe the wilderness, only for this expedition to almost take Xaviera's life. They encountered three small bear cubs.

That meant only one thing; there was also a mother bear near and she was furious. Xaviera couldn't blame the adult bear. She was protecting her cubs and if it wasn't for her father that tranquilized the feral, giant of an animal, Xaviera wouldn't have been here now.

Although, the Grizzly Bear gave the white-haired woman a souvenir to remember her by. She remembers how the bear charged towards her, flashing jaws that could probably crush her skull and claws that were five-inch long.

It left five long deep enough scratch marks from her hip down her outer thigh, almost to her knee. Her father saved her; always carrying a tranquilizer-gun in case they encounter wild and untamed beasts.

Xaviera sighed, finished with the venomous arrows, putting them in a special bag, made of thick leather. Carrying around weapons like this was deadly. You never know if you accidentally pierce yourself with one.

Her light blue eyes moved to the window, seeing it was already morning, lightly snowing. Maybe tomorrow she will go out if the weather calmed down, itching to finish the leeches that she knew very well had captured a snow leopard.

'The fucking parasites.' she thought, her brows pulled into a frown.

Her gruesome fantasy disappeared when the need for food made itself known, stomach signaling her that. She moved towards the kitchen, starting to make some soup, cutting the vegetables, calculating the number of ingredients she needed for two people.

She groaned; why did she care for that man's well being? He was obscene, cocky, and infuriating. Still, the way he shushed and cooed her after her nightmare made something in her chest light up, like a small fire that started to heat up her insides.

She huffed in annoyance at this. He was infuriating. Period.....and he made her want to castrate him.

But none deserves to die by starvation, so pushing the strong emotions aside she continues to prepare the dish, putting all the ingredients cauldron and letting it boil, waiting next to it, absorbing in the warmness it provided and the delicious aromas, while she was reading one of her zoology books, enjoying the silence, while it lasts because she knows once the soup is done she will have to go back upstairs with that infuriating specimen of a male.

Xaviera was so into reading, stopping at a paragraph about ranks in the packs of animals when the soup started to boil. She set the book down on the table, then filled two bowls with the hot food, letting it cool down a little, preparing herself to go upstairs and hope she won't be forced to scratch his face off.

Taking the bowls and setting them on a tray, she slowly marched upstairs, feeling her heartbeat pick up a little.

Headstrong man plays with her head.

She pushed the door open with her foot, seeing Andrei gaze out the window, his knives next to him on the bed. She walked towards the nightstand to set the tray down, the small clang of it pulling the man from his thoughts.

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow and confused face, still suspicious probably for why she was still taking care of him. To be honest, Xaviera didn't know the answer either. Curse him for being more animal than human.

"Thank you, myshka." he spoke, taking the bowl of soup and sitting it on his lap.

She nodded his way, taking her own bowl of soup and sitting in the armchair like she did yesterday. It felt like such a deja vu.

"None deserves to die by starvation." she simply told him, starting to eat in silence, savoring the first spoons of the warm dish.

"So...Are you going to tell me what you are doing here in Himalaya?" she asked, looking at him with curious blue eyes.

He looked at her for a few seconds, like he was debating if he should answer.

"My job...it's um, well I'm a...I kill people for money." he answered, then continued.

"The poachers are from Ukraine, and the job took me here." he finished, watching her carefully as he took a sip off the spoon.

Normal people would probably be frightened by such a statement, but Xaviera was no normal woman. She killed humans herself and she lost count of how many died; sometimes by having their heads shot or a deadly venomous arrow piercing them, but that's the easy case.

Most of the time she just started the kill, then watched as the animals killed the poachers. Being ripped to shreds by a lion wasn't an easy dead.

Xaviera tilted her head to the side curiously like a cat.

"I see. Well, they are dead so I am more than content with that, although there are more leeches that need to be crushed." she replied, almost finished with her soup.

"Once the snowing stops I am out to balance the ecosystem." she told him, the corners of her lips twitching up in a faint dark smile.

His gaze was directly on her.

"So much fight, so much promise within you, little mouse..." he spoke, taking another spoonful of soup.

"The fire you have is strong...don't ever let anyone take that from you." he finished, getting up, making Xaviera tense a little.

He looked like he would stroke her cheek or share an intimate moment, which made Xaviera nervous, only for the Russian to hand her the half-empty bowl of soup and ruffling her white hair, giving her a smirk, then disappearing downstairs.

She was surprised he healed so fast; probably was used to it, but that's not what clouded the woman's mind. His words, much like the Grizzly scars that she was sporting and hiding, were now printed deep in her mind, giving her a feeling of pride, feeling like her ears were on fire, probably from blushing.

It was so long since someone told her such words, the last time someone praised her in such a deep way was her father. She shook her head, clearing her mist-filled mind, taking the tray with the two almost empty bowls, and walking downstairs.

The first thing she saw Andrei look through his weapons; she was tense at first, probably waiting for him to use them on her, but after she realized he was only checking them, she walked towards the kitchen sink to wash the dishes.

"Y'know the kife, this one here, it is my favorite weapon...." he begins to speak, but she didn't look his way, but she did listen to his words.

"Only certain soldiers are skilled with these...." he continues and Xaviera hears his footsteps.

"It is very intimate game of life, death and the blade in hand...almost like a dance." his voice sounds very close and she knows that he is behind her, making her stop, her hands holding the bowl while she tries not to let him get to her; she needs to control her emotions.

She felt like ice was dripping down her back when one of Andrei's hands wee gently placed on her hip, where her scars started down, but luckily the clothes were hiding them.

He moved his other hand that held the knife in front of her, her jaw tense, prepared in case he decided to do something and test his theory that followed.

"This knife has saved me more than hundred times." she could feel his hot breath down the nape of her neck; cursing herself for pulling her hair into a messy bun, but the long white locks always got in the way when she washed the dishes.

His lips grazed her soft skin, making her eyes widen.

"And my favorite part...seeing the knife slip quietly between the bones, slicing skin like butter, dripping in hot blood as you pull it back...." then he kissed her neck, her shoulders so tense, like a feline ready to pounce.

"It's a beautiful sight." he finished, pulling the knife from her view.

She would have probably used her sarcasm on him, telling him how oh-so poetic he can be, but she couldn['t, because the Russian was in her personal space, way too close for her comfort and not in the usual 'I wanna choke you to death until your eyes are dull and lifeless'.

No. There was too much sexual ineduo dripping from his words and you could taste the atmosphere, which by seconds it turned electric.

Her breathing was the first giveaway of her feelings, a new form of vulnerability enveloping her.

She never had someone so intimately close to her, in such a way that made her feel like she was walking on thin ice.

"W-What are you doing?" she asked, cursing her voice for sounding so weak, so fragile.

Andrei just huffed in laughter, amused at her discomfort.

"Well, little mouse, we are probably going to be stuck here for a few days, and there is no TV or entertainment...." he replied, the hand that was holding the knife, grazed the outside of her thigh, moving upward, only to make her more anxious.

"I am not a big fan of reading, so I thought you could be my entertainment." he finished by kissing her neck, sensitive to his touch and making her breath hitch in her throat.

The sexual ineduo was too obvious now, the grip on the bowl so tight she almost broke it. Her eyes wide, not knowing how to react or what to do, never being in such a combusting situation.

"I-I...." she tried to form words, but it's like they were stuck in her throat, knees starting to shake.

She was a nervous mess.

"Cat got your tongue?" he sarcastically asked, playing with the hem of her shirt, while his other hand held her hip tight, making sure she was planted against him.

"Or should I say wolf?" he laughed, his canines grazing along her naked shoulder, nipping and kissing, all thanks to her over-sized shirt that slipped of her shoulder.

The white-haired woman felt her cheeks go on fire at the way his voice sounded and how he touched her.

What was she supposed to say? That she never indulged in the more carnal and primal activities? That she never was touched? That she was a virgin!?

She had a few boyfriends in college, but there was nothing more than kissing and a little bit of touching here and there; of course, nothing could compare to what the Russian in front of her was doing to her.

When his canines nipped more at her skin she dropped the bowl into the sink.

"N-No...It's just..." again she couldn't find it in her to properly speak.

In a flash, Andrei roughly whipped her around and hauled her on the counter with ease in a display of raw strength, making her squeak, his form settling himself between her legs, towering over her small form. His ice-blue eyes staring her down, his large and rough hands on her thigh, admiring the way she shook.

He was allowing her to speak, to continue her phrase.

Her eyes widened at the position they were in, too intimate, not to mention the way he looked at her, like a very dangerous animal ready to go in for the kill. She gulped down, trying to find her words.

"I-I....I've never..." she began, breaking eye contact with the intimidating Russian, hoping he will get the drift because it was so embarrassing to say the words herself.

Slowly, he pulled away, maintaining the predatory look, only to broke in a burst of full-on loud laughter, showing off his teeth and squinting his eyes, holding his chest and walking backward.

His laugh was deep and almost shook the cottage.

"Y-You....you what???...."

She felt her face heat up more at his reaction, laughing at her like she was a joke.

"S-Stop laughing..." she huffed, but he still didn't stop.

"I said, stop laughing, jackass!" she screamed, getting off the kitchen counter.

His laughing continued, watching her with amused eyes.

"Ba-Baby girl...oh my God." he was almost to the point of tears in his laughter and that's when Xaviera snapped.

Her icy blue eyes turning into a glare, feeling completely insulted at his laughter.

Before she knew what she was doing, her hands grasped his shirt and pushed him against the closest wall with all her strength she could muster, taking advantage of him being distracted.

"Stop laughing, asshole!" she snarled up at him; looking like a kitten that hissed at the big bad wolf.

The laughter instantly stopped, his smile dropping and turning into a snarl, his eyes darkening by her actions.

Swiftly, Andrei grabbed her throat and whipped her against the wall he was just against. She was ready to tell him to fuck off, but his large and muscular thigh was placed between her legs, right in the center, a mewl leaving her lips.

A new type of fire formed in the pit of her stomach, one that made her weak in the knees.

"W-What?" she choked out, her fingernails digging into the wrist of his hand that was wrapped around her neck, not tight enough to stop air to fill her lungs, but enough to assert his dominance over her.

Her wide eyes looked directly into his wolfish ones.

His breath hissed through gritted teeth like he was trying to control himself. He swallowed harshly, removing his hand from her neck, cupping her jaw, and stroking his thumb on her cheek.

The size difference between them was nerve breaking and she knew if he so saw fit he could rip her jaw off.

The dark scenario in her head vanished when he spoke.

"You're so beautiful, Xaviera." the first time he used her name and his words made her feel like she was made of jelly.

That glimpse of softness disappeared when the Russian grabbed her ass, making her wrap her legs around his waist, a growl leaving from deep within his chest when she accidentally grind on him a little.

She had no time to say anything because his lips crashed on hers.

Everything made her feel so dizzy and she knew if it weren't for his hands supporting her, she would have fallen down. The words he spoke echoed in her head, making her feel like her ribcage was gonna combust from how fast her heart was beating.

The adrenaline.

When she had grinded down on him, she felt something to say so....intimidating.....just like him.

"A-Andrei...." she squeaked against his mouth, her hands fisting into his shirt.

His mouth devoured hers and she found herself so weak by the many flavors he was sporting; the taste of tobacco, earl grey tea, and the faintness of the spicy soup.

He nipped at her bottom lip before he broke the kiss.

"I have you, little mouse." he whispered lowly, walking over to the couch, sitting himself down with her on his lap, his eyes trained on her like he was lost in his own mysterious mind.

Closing his eyes, he kissed her again, but this time it was much slower, but passionate, his finger laced into her soft, white hair. Her much smaller hands were gripping his shirt tight, afraid that if she let go she would fall from the rock and hit the bottom hard.

She tried to mimic the kiss, still wondering why she didn't push him away, smashing his balls and making him impotent for all his remaining life.

Maybe it was because she had never met a man like him, someone so dangerous and so at ease with his more primal instincts.

Again, he pulled away, his hand grasping her chin, resting his forehead on hers.

"But how myshka?....you're so beautiful." he asked.

How? Perhaps, she hadn't met someone that could match her, someone who wasn't afraid to indulge in the wilder side, someone who could actually keep up with her....Someone who can protect her.

She remembers in one expedition, there was a guy who tried to flirt with her, only to scream and run when one Boa fell down from a tree in front of her, and before that he was acting like he was all man and that masculinity.

"I-I've never found someone....Well...Compatible to say so...." she answered his question, looking up at him innocently from under her eyelashes.

Something sparked in his eyes, something she couldn't place her finger on.

"I will take care of you....ssh." he murmured, running his thumb along her soft lips.

Her mouth opened instinctually, his thumb moving gently inside her mouth, her tongue running over his digit and lips wrapped around it. His pupils dilatated at her innocent gesture, lips pulled into a small snarl. He was trying to control himself.

He pulled his hand away, only for his mouth to start leaving opened mouthed kisses along her neck and shoulder, his big hands running under her shirt. Everywhere he touched her, he left a hot trail of fire, making her slowly moan, still shy about everything.

Xaviera tilted her head in the opposite direction, allowing him more access, just like a female animal does for the strongest male; a sign of submission. Her hands moved from his shirt to run her fingers through his hair; so soft, so fluffy, reminding her of the fur coat of a wolf.

She never felt like this before, the intensity of all her nerve-endings was stretching, absorbing every touch he gave her. She was so caught up in this newfound pleasure, just mewling in appreciation of all the attention he was basking her in, that th sound of material being ripped pulled her from the induced hormonal state.

Ice blue eyes opening to see he had ripped her shirt like it was made of paper, exposing her upper body, chest covered by a simple white bra, nothing fancy. When you were always on the run like a wild free-spirited animal just like her, you didn't have time to worry about expensive lingerie with all kinds of designs.

His hands quickly moved behind her to undo her bra, breaking the hook in the process, but that was her last of her worry because when the white material was tossed behind him, she wanted to cover herself, but he was much quicker than her, grasping her wrists from doing so. Not enough to break, but enough to tell her not to cover.

The way he was looking at her made her nervous; were they too small, not his desired shape? His tongue peeked out from his mouth, running along one of his canines.

A loud gasp tore from her throat when his mouth laced to one of her nipples, sucking and biting on it greedily. The other breast wasn't ignored, his calloused hand grabbing the globe of flesh, his fingers twisting the nipple.

Her hands tugged on his light brown faux hawk, her head tossed back, and looking at the ceiling. She never knew that such actions could make her feel like this; it made her feel weak, but in such a delicious way, wetness forming between her legs, giving her an uncomfortable feeling.

Trying to adjust herself, she ground on him, feeling the bulge in his cargo pants, only for a primal growl to erupt from Andrei, biting her nipple rather roughly, making her scream, whimpering as he started to lap at the rosy red bud.

It was such a weird mix of pain and pleasure.

His mouth, moved up along her chest, continuing to nip and bite, leaving trails of hickeys in his path; just like a wolf marking his territory. Blue and purples adored her pale skin in intricate patterns.

"Myshka." he growled against her neck, canines grazing her pulse, making the white-haired woman whimper; not in fear, but in sinful submission, something she never thought she would do.

Before she knew it, he moved off the couch with his hands supporting her body again, hands groping her small tight ass as he marched upstairs, her arms wrapped around his neck.

The door to the bedroom was kicked open rather roughly and surprisingly, her form gently laid on the bed and he pulled her lips into a sloppy kiss, showing how eager he was to devour her, to make her feel things she never even had in her life.

He loved to bite, that's for sure, Xaviera noticed that and his sharp canines only made him more of a beast than a man, but God if it didn't send her into a turned-on mess. She could feel how soaked she was and she knew he would be all smug about it.

His lips moved to her ear, licking it, then nipping on the cartilage. Xaviera squeaked, her hands running up and down his chest, feeling the hard muscles underneath.

"Sensitive there, baby girl?" he whispered in her ear, blowing hot air, stealing more lewd noises from the woman underneath him.

She was ready to throw him some colorful words, but that thought flew off the window when he sucked harshly on her earlobe, his hands, tugging her pants down in such an uncivil way, leaving her with only a pair of white cotton panties.

His eyes drifted to something that caught his interest; her Grizzly scars. She was afraid he might be pulled off by them, but she was surprised to feel him gently trace the marks, silently telling her it was alright, nothing to be ashamed of.

His eyes then moved to her panties.

Andrei smirked at the choice of her colors, so simple yet so innocent, running two thick fingers up and down her covered pussy, making her legs twitch.

"So cute, little mouse." he commented, making her face heat up.

He always managed to turn her into a flustering mess. She looked at him with confusion when he crawled off her, only for her legs to be thrown on his broad shoulders, his fingers pulling her panties aside, taking a glimpse at her most private parts, so untouched. His big thumb caressed her folds, spreading her wetness more.

"You're so wet for me, baby girl....I wanna have a taste of this juicy pussy of yours." he whispered, voice rough and growling at the end.

Her eyes widened when he felt his mouth on her, tongue lapping at what her heat had to offer him, his canines grazing her outer labia. Her hands fisted the bedsheets, as a series of lustful moans and mewls escaped her mouth; the way he was working her, switching from suckling to biting, the heels of her feet digging into his broad back, instinctually her legs closed around his head, pulling him in closer.

"A-Andrei!" she squeaked his name as his sharp teeth nibbled on her clit, making tears form at the corner of her eyes from how the pleasure was hitting her like a dagger.

It didn't help the growls that left his mouth, sending vibrations straight up her core and a weird feeling was forming into the pit of her stomach; she knew what was gonna happen.

"W-Wait....S-Stop....O-Or I am gonna-" she warned him, but he was just his stubborn self, not stopping his assault on her pussy, pushing one thick finger inside her and she was done, a long and loud whine.

She breathed heavily as he lapped up her juices, slowly raising up and looking at her with wide eyes, that feral look in them making her tremble.

"S-Sorry...." she apologized, seeing his mouth, jaw, and chin covered in wetness.

His wet lips pulled into his trademark wolfish grin, canines on full display, delighted by what she just did. He moved back over her, smashing his lips eagerly on hers, making Xaviera taste herself.

"See how good you taste, pussycat?" he asked against her lips, her eyes half-lidded as he looked into his own.

Her hands tugged on his shirt, a small whine leaving her, wanting to feel his skin. Getting up, he tugged his black shirt off, strong muscles on display, skin that was covered in scars, especially a big one down his chest, her eyes following the movements of his hands as he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his cargo pants.

He kicked his combat boots off, then teasingly slipped the last piece of clothing off, along with his boxers. Innocent blue eyes widened as his length was freed, slapping against his abdomen. Her mouth hung open; he was big, everything about him was big, and screamed pure raw strength. Precum oozed from the rosy type, two obvious veins along the girthy length.

When her eyes looked up at his face, she could tell he was mighty proud of what he was packing; masculine pride.

"Close your mouth, myshka before I put something to occupy it." his obscene words made her quickly close it, hearing him chuckle at her flustered face.

The Russian moved back over her, his big hands pinning her tiny ones next to each side of her head as he gazed down directly into her glassy ones.

She gasped as he felt his length rub between her legs, the material of her panties adding to the friction.

"Feel what you're doing to me, darling? This is all your work." he growled, an inch away from her lips, her panties thoughtfully soaked.

In one swift move, one hand left her wrist to rip her panties off, coming back to grip her wrist back.

That was it, no more barries, nothing else between them, his cock rubbing directly on her soft skin, wet and eager for him to take it.

"P-Please..." she whispered, her legs opening more for him.

"W-What was that, myshka? You have to be more precise." he teased, making her whine.

She couldn't believe he was going to make her beg; he had managed to do something no man has ever done.

"P-Please...I-I need it." she choked out when his mouth laced on the skin behind her ear.

"What's that you want? My big cock, baby girl? That's what you want so badly?" he snarled into her ear, his canines running up and down the length of her neck and she threw her head back, the full length of her neck now on display, exactly like a female in heat that needs to be mounted by the most powerful male; the most intimate act of submission.

"Yes, please! Now, hurry up!" she screamed, exasperated with this anticipation.

That seemed to be the call because the follow action made her choke on her own breath, legs wrapping around his waist and her fingernails digging into his back, her mouth in an 'o' shape as she gazed with deer-like eyes into his feral ones, trying probably not to fuck her brains out since it's her first time.

She felt so full like she was going to be ripped in half, tears running down her cheeks, her breath stuck in her throat.

One of his hands cupped her cheek, whipping her tears away.

"Shhh...Breath, myshka....Breath. I'm here." he cooed, letting her adjust and she was very grateful for that.

No way was he average. Fuck no.

She tried to control her body, her breathing, relaxing her tense muscles as much as she could and she gave him a slight nod, motioning for him to move a little, which he did, very slowly, but by the way, his jaw was so tense, muscles bulging under scarred skin, she knew it was hard to control himself.

First, just some experimental thrusts, adjusting to his size, closing her eyes, the foreign feeling of pain fading away little by little which each push and pull until there was only pleasure, her moans signaling him that he could move harder, which he happily did, but he still held back.

"Fuck....You're so tight." he growled in her neck, slipping in and out of her cunt.

Xaviera couldn't form words and she let the primal sounds speak. The slow, languid pace quickly turned into fast and experimental thrusts, their skin slapping together whenever Andrei hilted inside her.

"So dripping for me." he breathed, his hands moving to grasp her ass.

"Yesssss." the white-haired woman mewled, her hands running through his hair.

He used his grip on her behind to move her body up and down his length, her body so light and easy to manhandle.

Now she knew why the animals were so feral in mating; how could you not be when all this pleasure is exploding through your veins. She knew it wasn't going to take her long to cum again, not by how he was starting to pound her cunt.

"Are you close, little mouse?" he asked her, one of her hands fisting his hair.

"I can feel you squeezing around me so eagerly." he sounded so primal; like a true apex predator wanting to conquer his mate.

"Mhmm..." she answered, the delicious knot ready to snap.

"Who do you belong to?" he growled, canines dangerously close to her neck artery.

"W-What?" she asked in a breathless moan.

She guessed that wasn't what he wanted to hear, because he gave her such a harsh thrust that made her toes curl.

"I asked.....Who do you belong to?" his voice had a growling tint, clearly losing his patience.

All her ration vanished then.

"Y-You.....I'm yours. I'm all yours." Xaviera whined when he slipped his cock almost all the way out, only for the tip to rest inside her.

He was going to kill her like this.

He kept her like this, only to took her by surprise when he pushed all the way in, a series of quick and deep thrusts followed, the tip of his length hitting that sweet spot inside her over and over, and she came heavily, her fingernails so deep in his back, running down, leaving a trail of hot red marks.

His cock twitched inside her and she felt warmness in the pit of her belly, making her feel like she was flying on a cloud, but she also had the feeling that she was really fucking a wolf, by the sound that left Andrei's mouth. His lips pulled into a snarl, deadly k9's glinting and the most erotic growl she ever heard meet her ears.

They both tried to catch their breaths, a smirk tugging at the Russian's lips as he looked down at her face; rosy red cheeks, eyes showing deep satisfaction and her lips swollen from the kissing.

"Speechless, koshechka?" (koshechka=pussycat)

Xaviera just gulped down, nodding her head and making him chuckle at her adorable expression, his hand coming to her head, running his thick fingers through her long soft winter locks, his mouth moving to her head as he whispered in Russian.

She didn't know what he said, but by the way, he spoke, it feels soothing, like he was singing her a lullaby.

She felt his thumb graze her pulse, one of her hands running up and down his chest gently, especially over his big scar.

It was like the fire died down and the only thing that was left was a sense of tranquility, a smile tugging at Xaviera's lips.

"Moy prekrasnyy snezhnyy bars." he whispered against her neck, kissing one of the bigger bitemarks he left on her. (moy prekrasnyy snezhnyy bars= my beautiful snow leopard)

She sighed contently, enjoying this rare moment, her hand playing with his fluffy hair as he littered her neck in all the attention.

Neither of them were sleepy and probably their minds were clouded with tons of questions and wonders.

#Xaviera Lah-Mo #Andrei Kulokova #Andrei Kulokova x Xaviera Lah-Mo #Andrei x xaviera #Slasher oc #Killer OCs #Original characters #story Time

[quickspinner]

Shifting Tides

A little offering for MerMay! @mangoes-n-cream​ threw out the idea some time ago of a merman Luka based on a betta fish, and we tossed ideas around and this is what I came up with. Betta fish have an extremely strong bite force for their size, so I translated that to physical strength. I still enjoy lionfish mermaid Marinette, so we’re just going to ignore the fact that betta are freshwater fish and lionfish are saltwater fish. It’s magic, just go with it.

Marinette had known Luka, not forever, but for a long time. He’d been her confidant as a confused, frustrated youngster in the throws of first love and unexpected responsibility, and though she’d never been able to read him as well as he read her, she’d learned a lot over their years together. She knew his patterns and how they shifted with his moods, she knew his habits, and she knew when he was putting up a front.

So when he asked her in his gentle, unassuming way if she would spend the day with him, but wouldn’t tell her why or what they would be doing, she had known him well enough to see the thread of tension in his body, the faint suggestion of stripes along his face that weren’t normally visible, the slight tightness around his eyes, though their expression was as soft and admiring as ever. 

It sent a thrill through her that she couldn’t entirely explain and didn’t want to examine too closely, she also knew how still looked at her, even all this time, when he thought she didn’t see, or wouldn’t mind. And lately, she was minding less and less. Marinette teased him for a bit in their usual way, and then agreed to meet him at morningtide. 

When morningtide came, Luka still wouldn’t tell her what was going on, but when he asked her to follow him, she did so with only minimal complaint. Just enough to keep up appearances. 

Really, she would have followed Luka anywhere he asked with even less information than he gave her, but he didn’t need to know that. Not yet, anyway. 

She was close enough behind him that she almost crashed into him when he stopped and turned to face her. He flitted out of her way with an indulgent smile that became a grin when she made a face at him. A quick flip of his tail sent him circling around her. 

“We’re almost there,” he said, possibly more excited than she’d ever seen him. “Will you close your eyes?”

Marinette gave him a suspicious look but he just shot a hopeful, excited one back to her. “Please?” he said softly, floating near. “You can trust me.” 

It was more a question of him trusting her, actually. Luka was many times stronger than she was, but much less likely to accidentally injure her with his strength than she was to injure him with her venomous spines.

She did trust him, though, to know what he was doing, and he trusted her to mind her spines as best she could. 

Tucking her spines close, Marinette closed her eyes. She felt Luka take her hands and place them around his neck, his back bumping into her chest. “Just hold on,” he told her. “It’ll only take a moment.” Marinette joined her hands and let him tow her, trying not to think too hard about the brush of his fins against hers or the rhythm of the current he sent against her as his tail drove them both through the water. His hands stayed on her forearms, strong and reassuring, thumbs rubbing lightly over her skin. 

She could feel the sun through the water and knew they must be fairly shallow. The warmth felt good. Luka stopped and removed her arms from around his neck. “Wait here one moment, I just want to make sure no one’s here that shouldn’t be.” 

Marinette suppressed a smile at this typical territorial caution, though she didn’t like being left behind like this, blind and vulnerable. Luka placed her hand on something—it felt like a rock formation. He’d placed her on its sheltered side so the current didn’t push her. “I’ll call to you when I come back,” he said, and Marinette took this as her cue to let her spines rise into a defensive position, which made her feel a little more comfortable. She set her senses to feeling the water about her, but it was calm and she felt no danger. 

“I’m coming back,” Luka called from somewhere slightly above her, and she flattened her spines again. In moments she felt the press of water from above, and felt Luka’s hand cover hers again. “All clear.”

“I’m shocked,” she teased. It took a special type of brave, or a special type of stupid, to invade Luka’s territory. He was sweet and gentle and relaxed most of the time, but fierce when his family or his territory was threatened. 

“I’m coming behind you,” he warned, and she flattened her spines a little further until she felt his warmth behind her and his hand settle on her waist, just above where her scales ended. HIs touch made her shiver and his hand shifted immediately a little higher, away from the sensitive spot. “Sorry,” he said, but his voice went a little deeper and Marinette didn’t completely believe him. Lips twisting in a slight smirk, Marinette let him guide her toward whatever it was he was so intent on showing her. He was a tactile person, but rarely as openly flirtatious as he had been today, and she was very much intrigued. 

She felt the difference in the light and the change in the current as he lead her inside a shelter of some kind, though she didn’t brush up against any barriers. 

They were in a sort of cavern, but the ceiling was broken in several places, sending shafts of light filtering down through the water. In the spots of sunlight dotted on the walls, the natural outcropping and shelves of the cavern were piled with sea glass, reflecting the light in many different shades of green and gold and white and blue and making shifting patterns of color against the rocks. 

It was a sculpture of light and it was beautiful. 

“Do you like it?” he asked, his voice warm and low and not...hesitant exactly, but tense somehow.

“I do,” she said fimly, and then turned towards him, lifting her hands to his face. “It’s lovely, Luka.” 

“Good,” he said, covering her hands with his own, and the relief in it was palpable. 

“It must have taken you so much time to collect all this,” she said, looking around again. 

“It did,” he admitted, holding her hand to his face, his fingers curling over his, and when Marinette met his eyes, she felt a wave of heat pass through her body as her heart began to beat faster. “You know I’m not an artist, not like you, but...I wanted to do this for you. You make so many beautiful things and I just...I wanted to make something beautiful for you.” 

“For me?” she asked softly. 

“Always for you,” he answered just as softly, taking both her hands in his and tugging her closer. “It’s always—” 

He paused and looked around, expression suddenly wary. “Something’s wrong,” he murmured, letting her hands slip out of his. “Stay here.” 

Marinette watched him in surprise for a moment as Luka swam to the entrance and stopped just inside of it, fins fanning out in a full threat display that made Marinette’s heart flutter for entirely different reasons than intended. He was stunning with his blue-black fins spread to their full extent, the muscles of his back and arms rippling with tension as he scanned for the threat.  

Marinette shook herself and fluffed out her own fins, unfolding fans of black spots on red that contrasted the bright stripes of her tail, the bold pattern declaring a warning as her venomous spines lifted into a defensive position. Ignoring his instructions to stay put, she swam to Luka’s side, careful to stay far enough away not to risk ripping one of his beautiful fins with her spines. He motioned for her to stay back, but she ignored that too. Luka was strong and brave and beautiful but when it came down to practicalities, she was the best equipped to actually incapacitate an enemy. 

After a few moments Luka sighed, and drifted back to her, though his fins remained flared. “I don’t see or sense anything. Perhaps I was mistaken.”

“You checked for danger already,” Marinette reminded him. 

“Yes,” he agreed. “I’m jumpy, I guess. I’m sorry. This was important to me and I don’t want anything to ruin it.” He turned his attention back fully on her, and Marinette’s pulse, which had begun to slow, jumped back into overdrive again. Luka just smiled, amused, she supposed, by her sudden fluster. He knew her as well as she knew him, after all. Possibly better. He had certainly been watching her longer.

Marinette tried to find somewhere to look that wasn’t at the impressive display of fin and muscle before her. “Aren’t you going to put those away?” she asked, swatting playfully at a streak of blue trailing elegantly from his arms. 

“Not if you like them,” Luka said with a slow smile. “Do you, Marinette?” He flicked his tail, sending a little wave across her own flukes and setting the lovely trailing fan of his tail fin dancing. 

“I like yours,” he added, boldly reaching a finger to stroke along the edge of one fin. 

She flicked it away from his finger and he drew back quickly.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, furling his own fins. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have—I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” 

“Luka,” Marinette said, flipping in the water and sending a pressure wave across his face. “Shut up.” She circled him once, and then again, close enough for her fins to trail across him, and then swam up to where the light poured in again, admiring his collection of treasures. She turned lazily on her back, and then upended to swim down again. 

“Luka,” she asked, facing him upside down in the water, curving her tail over to block the sunlight from her face so that she could see him clearly. “Are you courting me?” 

“Yes,” he said softly, and the simplicity of it set her heart racing. “Are you going to come down here so I can continue? Or would you rather I didn’t?” 

He sounded perfectly calm but she could see the flutter in his gills, the slight differences in his coloration that let on he was not as comfortable as he wanted her to believe.  

Slowly, deliberately, Marinette completed her loop and twisted, letting her momentum carry her against him. He caught her with the infinite gentleness that had always intrigued her, in such contrast with his strength, and his arms went around her as his forehead rested gently against hers. “By all means, continue,” she whispered, stroking slender fingers down his jaw and across his lips. 

“Marinette,” he murmured, “You know I’ve been in love with you for years. There was a time when it hurt you to hear it—” Marinette tried not to wince visibly, though she knew the way she ducked her head betrayed her thoughts to Luka, who had always seen her so clearly, even when her own vision had been dazzled by blinding yellow fins and an even brighter smile. “ —But I was hoping, lately, that you were becoming...less opposed to the idea of me loving you?” 

“Less opposed,” Marinette giggled. “That’s one way to put it.” 

Luka grinned slowly. “Feel free to rephrase it for me.” 

“Must I?” Marinette countered, and then, softer, feeling the crimson creeping up her face, she added, “You’ve never needed words to understand me before.” 

“No,” he said, his voice lowering as he reached one hand up, brushing the backs of his fingers along her cheek before sliding them into her hair to draw her close. 

Marinette let him pull her near and seal his mouth over hers in a kiss that started off soft but became bolder as she responded to him, pressing close and parting her lips for him. She didn’t dare tell him how long she had been hoping for this moment, when they were both finally in synch with each other and their own feelings, after all her foolishness. 

Lost in his kiss, she began unconsciously to match the rhythm of his lightly swaying tail with hers, and Luka moaned softly into her mouth, his hands slipping down to that sensitive area at her waist. “Marinette,” he murmured, nipping at her lips and down her jaw as he pulled her gently closer, blowing a small stream of bubbles against her neck in a way that made her shiver and giggle all at once. “Would you—” 

Something crashed suddenly through the ceiling of the cavern, and Luka threw his body recklessly into Marinette, driving her back and away from the disturbance even as she screamed and pushed him away, flattening her spines so she wouldn’t kill him by accident.

She surged away to get some distance from Luka where she could defend herself without risking him, and saw the source of the disturbance—a burly figure she knew well. 

“Kim, what are you doing?” Marinette screeched, moving towards him. The brown and gold merman fixed his attention on her and made a feral sort of growl that brought her up short, even more so as she caught sight of his face. 

Marinette had known Kim since they were tiny, and she had never seen the ugly purple pattern that was spread on his face before. Nor had she ever seen him look so...angry. Kim wasn’t the calmest of people but he had never looked like that before.

“Kim!” Marinette gasped, and then yelped as her old childhood friend snarled and leapt at her. 

Marinette was more than capable of defending herself but the surprise and desire not to kill one of her oldest friends paralyzed her for a moment. 

Kim was knocked aside as Luka crashed into him, fins on full display and rage in his face. 

“Don’t hurt him,” Marinette screamed, as Luka drove Kim into the wall of the cavern. “Something’s wrong. He won’t talk to me!” 

Luka gave her a quick look that said he would do his best and then he had all he could handle as Kim fought back. The water inside the cavern churned and seaglass leapt and skittered across the wall and sank as they thrashed and struggled, hitting the walls of the cavern. Marinette flitted about in a panic, wanting to help but not sure how. 

Luka’s eyes met hers as he shot her a desperate look over Kim’s shoulder. Marinette understood his dilemma at once; he couldn’t hold Kim off for long without seriously hurting him. Marinette didn’t want either Kim or Luka hurt, but her own venom was deadly; if she intervened, she would kill Kim. For a moment she hung in the water paralyzed with indecision, not sure what to do as her eyes darted about looking for a solution.

Suddenly she spotted something dark on Kim’s neck, just behind his gills, a fluttering bit of darkness that looked attached to him like a remora. No, it was a remora, but it was pitch black, tinged purple when the sun hit it. 

“Luka,” she called, propelling herself forward. “Luka, hold him still.” She bit her lip, watching for her opening. She was going to have to be quick.

After a tense struggle Luka managed to pin Kim down against a rock for a moment, tail working furiously to hold them there as he glanced back at Marinette with a now what expression.

Marinette darted in, skimming past them and slashing out with the spiny fins along her arms, far closer to Luka’s neck than she really felt comfortable with, but there was no time to think of it. She sliced the remora from Kim’s neck and flung it down onto one of the spines at her waist, pushing off from the wall of the cavern to get away from Kim and Luka before one of them flailed against her and hurt themselves.

It turned out to be a needless worry, because as soon as the remora was gone, Kim went limp, and Luka sagged with relief and exhaustion.

Marinette went to him immediately, spines folding down as Luka cautiously released Kim, who just hung limp in the water, the odd pattern fading from his face even as they watched. Luka turned him on his back and checked him over. “Is he all right? Are you all right?” Marinette asked, hesitating as she hovered around them. .

“He’s alive,” Luka said, leaning his hands back against a rock. “He doesn’t seem to be hurt, other than where that thing was attached. Doesn’t look like it even broke the skin, though, just...stuck there.” Satisfied that Kim was all right for the time being, Marinette moved toward Luka and he smiled as she fussed over him, cupping his face and running her hands over him. “I’m not injured.” 

“Are you sure?” she fretted, looking up into his face, and the soft look he was giving her made her face heat. Luka’s widening grin told her he could see the red flooding her cheeks, bringing out the pale spots that were normally nearly invisible. His own pattern flashed at her in response, jagged blue stripes traveling up the angles of his face, and she wanted to pout that his own markings complimented him so nicely, but the world was just unfair to females. “Thank you for trusting me,” she said, dropping her gaze, idly tracing a finger over his collarbone. “I could have hurt you if you’d flinched.” 

Luka chuckled, and kissed her softly. “You are dangerous and strong and beautiful and I adore you,” he told her. “And I would love to pick up where we left off, but…I think we’ll have to have that talk a bit later.” He looked at Kim, still unconscious. “I think we need to consult your father and the Guardian about...whatever this was.”

“Agreed,” Marinette said, shaking her head slightly as her brow furrowed in puzzlement. “This can’t be good, and people will get hurt if it happens again.” 

Luka hummed ascent, caressing her waist gently and then letting her go as he went to pull Kim onto his back. “Let’s go.” 

“Your nest,” Marinette fretted, looking at the scattered seaglass littering the bottom of the cavern. 

“I’ll build another one,” Luka said, sending a comforting wave of current over her with a flick of his tail. “I wouldn’t feel safe here after this anyway. We’ll make it beautiful together.” He caught himself and the stripes flared a little brighter. “I mean...after we talk. If you want to.”

Marinette returned the smile he gave her over his shoulder, and followed him out of the cavern. “Yes, we will,” she murmured to herself, incandescently happy despite the odd and ominous turn the day had taken. 

#quickspins #across all realms #mermay #lukanette #endgame lukanette #i am lukanette trash i admit it #lukanette endgame #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #mermaid au #fantasy au #ml fics

[altrustichcpes]

HYLIA, ALONE ..

┈┈━ 𝗔𝗨𝗧𝗛𝗢𝗥’𝗦 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘𝗦⠀⠀:⠀⠀⠀hi!! hello , this is a lil thing i decided to whip up. i apologize that it’s eVERYWHERE and messy , B U T i hope you all like it. also if you could give any constructive criticism— that’d be swell!! enjoy! :))

┈┈━ 𝗧𝗥𝗜𝗚𝗚𝗘𝗥 𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦⠀⠀:⠀⠀⠀abuse , abusive relationships , emotional abuse , emotional manipulation , physical abuse , sexual assault , r*pe ( HEAVY implications ) and violence. if these trigger you, please take with caution.

┈┈━ 𝗣𝗟𝗢𝗧 / 𝗦𝗬𝗡𝗢𝗣𝗦𝗜𝗦 / 𝗦𝗘𝗧𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗚⠀⠀:⠀⠀⠀the beginning of war , hylia is facing the consequences of her actions... she waits anxiously whilst waiting for demise’s army to strike — only to come to a realization.

┈┈━ 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗦⠀⠀:⠀⠀⠀hylia , demise , nayru , din , farore , impa , link , fierce deity .

┈┈━ 𝗟𝗘𝗡𝗚𝗧𝗛⠀⠀:⠀⠀⠀1,810 words.

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⠀⠀⠀Death was such a strange concept. It was a mortal concept — and she wished she learned more when she had the chance. The war , she knew it would kill her. But she was going to take what was hers. Even if she had to spill blood of others . . . or her own.

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⠀⠀⠀ The black skies hung low in the Heavens , as the white haired woman carefully took a deep breath , finding her gaze falling to the woman in the mirror. She saw the bags under her eyes , yet her hair was held into intricate braids that mashed together in one. She wore black , a black dress with a cape wrapping across her chest. She was ready. Ready to finish what she had started , ready to take back the Triforce of Power from the King of Darkness himself — and her outfit said that statement.

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⠀⠀⠀ Her sapphire gaze fixated on the quill and parchment that sat on the surface of her vanity mirror. She had been writing letters to him- Link. He hasn’t responded... The last thing she did hear was from Impa, saying that he was in safe hands ; helping her at Kakariko Village , she had heard from Fierce Deity as well, he said the same thing. Out of habit , her thumb began to stroke the inside of her right ring finger. A gold band sat steady — a beautiful gold band at that. With the initials ‘ H+L ‘ engraved in it... Link got her this just prior to the war. A promise ring. They both promised each other that no matter what , they’d find eachother once again.

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⠀⠀⠀ Out of everyone that she knows , Hylia hasn’t spoken to her sisters... not after Din’s proclamation to her hatred for her younger sister and not since Nayru had tried to persuade Hylia of war. Her brows knitted in thought as she took a deep breath. Her sisters... they were once close. Once close to the point where they knew everything about each other. But now? Hylia felt like a stranger to her own family. Farore doesn’t even speak to her anymore like she used to. She bit the inside of her cheek as the Crimson Loftwing from the balcony squawked. It was time.

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⠀⠀⠀ Making her way towards the creation she made long ago , raising a hand to his beak — carefully stroking it as she rested her forehead on his...

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⠀⠀⠀ “ This is it , buddy... “ She whispered , hearing him coo against her cheek.

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⠀⠀⠀ The Loftwing held a few things on it’s back ; a weapon of some kind - a harp that was wrapped with a cloth… It was the only thing along with a journal or two. Hylia looked around her realm , jaw clenched at the darkened skies. The clouds were heavy as she climbed onto the back of the Loftwing , exhaling deeply through her nose. With a light kick on the Loftwing , she flew off towards the Surface. Her nerves were high , high beyond measure as she gripped the feathers of the creature - vision becoming clear as the green land below came into view. Although it was no longer green. The land her sisters once made lush and beautiful was dead , and slowly rotting away with every moment it could get the chance. She did see the dark beginning to blanket the land in the horizon.

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⠀⠀⠀ With the civilization in Skyloft hanging overhead , Hylia guided the Loftwing to the Surface and landed where her own militia stood. Five races , Goron , Parella , Ancient Robots , Kikiwi and the Mogma all stood along with their own weapons in hand. Biting the inside of her cheek , her thumb brushed against the ring once again. She was okay. This was going to happen…

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⠀⠀⠀ She began to saunter towards the races. She wore pride on her chest , sending her army out to battle alongside her against the Demon King’s incoming strike. Hylia’s usual soft and gentle voice became sharp like glass as she shouted towards the army at her feet.

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀ “ Today will be the day in history that we rid of Demise and his proxies of darkness. Today will be the day we seal The Demon King. Today will also be the day where lives will inevitably be lost. Today will be a somber one - yet a victorious one. Will you all lend me a hand —” Hylia spoke , chest rising with every word she shouted , gazing out to her soldiers… seeing their faces. She didn’t see him though.. She didn’t see Link. Her heart felt heavy for some reason… “ One final hand in this conflict? Will you all aid me in this fight? For this is our fight. Not just mine. Not just the gods above. We will win this and restore peace among my sister’s land. Fight for peace. Fight for justice… and may the Goddess smile upon you all. “ She ended her speech with a smile. It didn’t reach her eyes. Lately a lot of her smiles didn’t quite reach her eyes - nor was the light that once stood and shone brightly there anymore… her sapphire eyes were faded now. But she remained cool as she watched the races let out their victory wails , clanging against their weaponry if they had any.

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⠀⠀⠀ Nodding , she looked up to the sky now…

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀ The air froze , almost stopped completely as Hylia stood still. He’s here. Black blanketed the sky completely as a beam of light emitted from ground in the middle of her own militia , the earth protruding upwards as the large boar pulled himself up. Scaled , teeth an ugly yellow and stained with blood - Hylia watched in almost shock at what she was witnessing. Did he feast on the miserable before arriving? … Or did he feast on those in Kakariko… No- focus.

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⠀⠀⠀ As he came from beneath the ground , so did his own army. One by one slowly started to rise from the ground. Soon , hundreds began flooding the Surface. It wasn’t long until they all lined up , weapons raised. She caught sight of the many that Demise managed to recruit , either by force or volunteer. Three in particular. Ghirahim , Zant and… Ziva. Her eyes widened slightly , as Demise glared down at the woman.

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⠀⠀⠀ “ Men! Raise your weapons. Don’t show mercy,” He snarled , as he kept his gaze on his former lover.

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⠀⠀⠀ Hylia was quick to board her Loftwing , grabbing her harp and kicking his side. In an instance , she was in the air. Demises’ army hadn't struck yet… they seemed to be waiting. Demise’s golden hue’s followed the White Goddess and then he spoke.

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⠀⠀⠀ Voice crisp , clear and rage dripping with every word, venom almost; “ Kill them all. “ He spoke.

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⠀⠀⠀ Just like that , Hylia watched both parties go against each other - chest heavy as she attempted to regulate her breathing. She got this. Gripping the Loftwing’s feathers with one hand , the harp in the other , she watched… The Gorons used all of the force they could, the Mogma and Ancient Robots teaming up. But her mind began to drift…

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⠀⠀⠀ Her lover was in Kakariko , along with her best friends… Her sisters disowned her , for trying to save the relationship between her and the man who is threatening to kill her… This. This was her fault. It was. She willingly gave him the Triforce of Power… she saw him and Din together- she let herself get violated and abused every other day… Something in Hylia snapped. She wasn’t going to let anyone put her down again. And if she had to spill the blood of others to do so , she would do it.

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⠀⠀⠀ She took a moment , slowly beginning to strum the harp. Rays of light emitted from it as she flicked her wrist towards her own militia. The rays of light shattered , breaking into a million pieces and grazing her soldiers like glitter… “ Fight with all of your might! “ She shouted to them below before her sapphire gaze met the ones of the boar.

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⠀⠀⠀ She once loved this man. Once. She didn’t realize her hatred for him until she realized her worth, and now she stood in the air against him. He simply laughed at her expression. Her brows were furrowed and her jaw was clenched tight , fists forming as she held onto the feathers of the Loftwing.

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⠀⠀⠀ “ You bitch. “ He laughed , raising his hand.

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⠀⠀⠀ It was her against the world… and she was going to be ruthless.

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀ Death was a mortal concept. Hylia never understood it until this moment… Her breath hitched as she lay in the bed , hand gripping an object at her side. The war ended just the other day , two days ago. It was agonizing , and she had suffered most. Her injuries were mostly internal but her powers were slowly beginning to leave her grasp. Attempting to breathe , she looked to the doors that swung open immediately. Impa...

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀ “ Your grace- ” She spoke , rushing to the White Goddess’ side. “ Did you… “ Her voice trailed off , seeing her friend in the state she was in. It hurt…

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⠀⠀⠀ “ I made it, Impa…” Hylia responded shakily. “ You know, to make sure the next reincarnate finds it.. Guide him.” She handed her the creation- A sword. A purple-blue hilt made with such grace.. The blade itself was glowing with a faint blue hue. Hylia , weak in the hands pushed it towards the Sheikah and let out a chuckle. “ And can I ask a favor..? “

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⠀⠀⠀ Taking the sword with care , Impa cocked a brow , carefully taking her friend’s hand out of worry. “ Anything, “ She spoke , easing the goddess’ nerves.

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⠀⠀⠀ “ Don’t go.. Not until I’m gone. When I am, you can leave.. Just… not yet…” She breathed , staring up at the ceiling of her sanctum. It was cozy , warm… like a winter cabin.

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⠀⠀⠀ Impa nodded, taking a seat beside Hylia.

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⠀⠀⠀ A comfortable silence flushed over the two as Hylia spoke yet again; “ I see him… “ She whispered shakily.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀ “ Who, your grace? “ Impa cocked a brow wearily.

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⠀⠀⠀ “ Link…” Her eyes widened as she saw a hand reach for her.

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⠀⠀⠀ A light gasp of air escaped her lips… and her eyes glossed over.

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⠀⠀⠀ Waking up alone was horrible enough. Was this the afterlife? Or was she to wait for herself to be reborn. Wincing at the sunlight coming from the open doors of the balcony , Hylia pulled herself out of bed… Her feet touched the cold marble beneath her as she carefully stepped towards the balcony , walking through the opened doors. The light- good spirits, it was bright. Her eyes adjusted and there she saw them… Loftwings flying overhead. She took in a deep breath. A real.. Deep breath. This temporary peace relaxed her shoulders as she gazed down to Skyloft below , along with the Surface… Her thumb brushed against the gold band as a sad smile tugged at her lips... Death is peaceful… but she knew being reborn was going to be hell all over again, only this time; she’s alone.

#legend of zelda #goddess hylia #princess zelda #ganondorf #link the hero #loz #loz oot #loz fanart #loz botw #loz twilight princess #zelda #loz zelda #loz hylia #writing #oneshot #novella #i’m tired take this

[love-minor-poltergeist]

How would Cagney react if his s/o asked him if they're anoying??

A/N: I wasn’t quite sure if you wanted hcs or a drabble, so I decided to go with the latter since I’ve gotten some minor inspiration from some rough times that happened recently. If you actually wanted hcs, please be sure to shoot me a message in the inbox once I open my inbox back up!

Warning(s): None

Word Count: 1,524

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“Hey, um.. Cagney? D-Do you think I’m annoying?”

Almost immediately, the gentle stream of water flowing from the small, rusty watering can in Cagney’s hand comes to a complete stop. The air around him shifts, growing suddenly tense as he slowly sets it down. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and you find your stomach sinking with dread. 

You’ve gone and done it again, didn’t you? You’ve let the cracks grow too deep and let the self-loathing and fear seep through again. Any minute you’re going to hear the same old things you’ve heard before.

“No, you’re not annoying, dear. Please, stop asking that.”

“Of course you’re not. Why do you always worry so much about what others think?”

And before you’d know it, that treacherous, venom-laced voice of self-doubt began to resurface; ready to further tear away what little threads of confidence you still have. 

“Are you sure you’re not just doing this for attention? God, how pathetic can you get?”

Cagney, meanwhile, quietly began to brush the dirt off his hands as his brows furrowed; his mouth drawn into a taut line and his nose wrinkled. The question was so sudden that he had to pause for a moment. 

Of course he didn’t think so. He may have been annoyed with a lot of things, but you rarely did anything to really irritate him. Why the sudden question?

Just before now, everything seemed fine….at least he thought it was. You had just been contently sitting back on a bench while tended to the flowers a few minutes ago. In fact, Cagney had nearly forgotten you were still here; neither of had spoken a word other than greetings and your idle chatter filling the air when you first arrived. 

He didn’t mind the silence at all, but he had to admit that something felt…off. 

You came by a little bit more reserved than usual, your shoulders tense and your hands tightly stuffed away in your pockets. Even more disconcerting– your smile felt forced. 

The carnation took in a deep breath, his soul growing uncomfortably tight in his chest.

“Uh, no? Why do you ask?” 

Cagney turned, his brows furrowed and a confused frown on his face and was met with a sight that made his stomach grow heavy.

Your eyes had quickly grown glassy as unshed tears welled up;  lip beginning to slowly bleed from how hard you were biting down on it.

Beads of sweat began to form as the Carnation tore his gaze away, his chest growing tight as he internally panicked. Oh god, was it something he said? Did he hesitate too much in his answer? What the hell can he do for this?

“I-I’m sorry.. I don’t know why I’m asking this.” You forced out through shaky sobs.  “I just-”

“What? No, you’re fine. Just…” 

Cagney sucks in a nervous breath, desperately trying to ignore the cold sweat beginning to slide down his brow. 

“Just… Do you need to be alone for a bit? The shed’s a good place if you don’t want anyone to see you like this…” 

You take in a shaky breath and eagerly nod; face hot with embarrassment and tears. 

You stumble a bit as you get up, causing your boyfriend to instinctively reach over to help you, but you quickly shake your head. The last thing you needed right now was someone touching you.

He bit his lip and his eyes grew sheepish, quickly pulling away his outstretched arms like you threatened to burn them. 

Unsure and a bit overwhelmed himself, Cagney merely gave you a tight-lipped smile in hopes that it’d help. He watched your lips twitch up for a second, a gleam of distressed gratitude shining in your watery eyes before you hastily scurried away. 

The carnation watched your retreating form with a heavy heart and let out a quiet sigh. He picked up the watering can again, practically white-knuckling the thin handle as Cagney forced himself to look back to the flowers below him. 

Cheery, faceless yellow pansies stared up at him silently, and Cagney felt a frown pull at his lips as a gentle breeze blew by. The flowers happily swayed along the wind, completely oblivious towards their caretaker’s troubles; mocking him with their own stress-free lives. 

After all, they didn’t have to worry whether or not if they were making an ass of themselves; nor did they have to constantly wonder if the fact that if they weren’t being supportive enough; or even have to deal with the possibility they’re a shitty boyfriend. Oh no, instead dear old Cagney has to be the one to be stressed out about those things. 

The carnation forced in a deep breath and shook his head. No, No, he was getting distracted again. He needed to keep his head clear for when you came back. You were going through a rough patch and needed him to be the grounded one.

And by god is he going to try his damndest to help you– even if he had no idea what he was doing. 

The sounds of your light footsteps tore Cagney back into reality, nearly causing him to jump as he moved to compose himself. With frantic speeds only an anxious person could achieve, the carnation quickly wiped any remaining nervous sweat off his brow as your footsteps became louder.

Cagney could feel his soul throb in his chest as you drew closer, and the carnation forces in another deep breath. 

Easy, Carnation. Just listen to them. They need you right now.

He turns to face you again and desperately tries to ignore the way his chest tightened when he took in your still pink-rimmed eyes and disheveled hair. You looked a little worse for wear, but the tears had at least stopped– which was a step in the right direction in Cagney’s book. You look up and give him the barest hints of a smile, all the while trying to avoid looking him in the eye as you scurry your way back to the bench. 

Without a word, you sit back down, and the wood gently creaks beneath your weight. 

Neither of you say anything for a moment; the occasional creak or groan of the old bench breaking the tense silence.

It wasn’t until the carnation gently shook his head and forced himself to be the one to make the first move.

“Sooo…” Cagney internally winces at the waver in his voice. “…Do you want to talk about what happened earlier? “ 

You take in a nervous breath as Cagney watched your hands tightly clench up. Tears were threatening to burn at your vision again, and you force your head up towards the looming tree branches above you. 

“I mean, it’s kind of a dumb reason. You know I’m just overthinking again.” 

Your boyfriend clicks his tongue for a moment, his face falling into an expression you couldn’t quite read.

He sets the watering can back down onto the ground, the old metal thumping against faintly damp grass, before Cagney turns back towards you.

His thin mouth curls into a frown, his brow furrowing.

“Well, I’m not sure if it’s that dumb if it bothered you that much.”

Cagney pauses for a moment, frown curling a bit before he continued. 

“….’sides, have you seen who I’m related to? I highly doubt anything can top those yahoo cousins of mine on the stupidity scale.” 

You let out a tiny snort at his sour tone, causing the flower to flush a light pink. He coughs and mutters something unintelligible, the faint pink dusted on his cheeks growing darker as Cagney cleared his throat. 

“What I’m trying to say is… I think a lot of things are dumb, but you and maybe, like, two other people aren’t to me. And if something is bad enough to make you cry, well… it’s important to me, too, then.” 

The carnation pauses for a moment as he rigidly fumbles with his hands, the urge to nervously chew on the leafy appendages growing by the second. 

He looked off to the side, lips curling into that familiar grimace he did when he was struggling for words. It didn’t help that those pretty eyes of yours were focused on him so intently, either. 

Dear lord he hoped he didn’t look as nervous as he felt. 

Out of the corner of his eye he can make out the small amused smile on your face. By now, your entire body has loosened up; the faint tear tracks on your ruddied cheeks long since dried. 

You suddenly rise up from the bench, causing Cagney to jump and whip his head back to face you. Before he could even utter another word, he found his stem clasped into a hug tight enough to knock the wind out of him. 

Oh boy, his face had to be on fire at this point. 

“Thank you, Cagney.” 

“N-No prob.” Cagney coughed, tentatively setting a thin hand onto your shoulder. “Just… I just want you to know that you’re one of the best things I got going right now, alright? You could never annoy me, sweetheart.”

#my writing #requests #one-shot #cuphead #cuphead dont deal with the devil #cagney carnation #cagney carnation x reader #gender-neutral reader #reader-inserts #x reader

[aliypop]

Breath Of Courage

Wordcount: 2,440

Warning: Language 

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy !

"But what is power..." 

"Loyalty." living in a cottage in the outskirts of Vizima was a witch so powerful that even other magic welders flocked to her for a piece of advice. Sitting at her desk full of potions, books, and a topaz dragon eye was the almighty Tithuba. "The people of Rinde want their freedom to gain their loyalty, grant it to them." the witch said to the black-haired mage standing in front of her.

"Can I ask you a question.." 

"Anything." 

"What's something you've been loyal to." 

"But we're starving!" both Flora and Jaskier grumbled both Adina and Geralt had stopped to take hold of a contract. Something about a gorgon hiding in the lakes of Cintra, "We'll stop by a tavern after the gorgon." Geralt looked back at the two, a bit annoyed by their commotion. They were like two whinny children who just so happened to be entertaining.

 "Or you could take these coins and be on your merry way," Adina smirked, throwing a bag at them. Flora opened the bag seeing the glistening coins shimmer in the sun. It was enough for a feast and then some. Inside of the tavern was a long line of commotion, with villagers gathering around to get a good look at the kingdom of Anore's eligible heir Prince,

 "Florian..." Jaskier gasped, hearing the rasp of his voice. The very last time he had mused over the tone of his voice was when Serleta, his mother, nearly banished him from the kingdom. 

"You know him?" Adina asked, looking at the state of Jaskier. His deep blue eyes had dilated, and his knees nearly went weak. "You could say that.." he watched him.  Florian, who was an elf, was adopted by the king due to him being sterile. Because of this, and the law of surprise, Florian came to be.

 "Jaskier..." Florian whispered to himself. It had been centuries since he had last seen the bard, but yet standing there with some woman was the man who had his soul. 

"What are you doing here in Cintra.." Florian asked. 

"I could ask you the same.." Jaskier smirked, giving him the wink that Flora had loved so much to see.

 "I'm meeting my betrothed  Rayanetta..." the royal said, as his eyes then wandered to the blue and gold cloth wrapped around the waist of Flora. He had recognized the pattern before, something to with an elf clan that his mother once told him about; 

Taking in his features, however, was Flora. Something about him made him feel familiar, and it wasn't his elf ears but his facial structure that reminded that of her face. He had the same dark maroon doe eyes. 

"And you are?"

"Flora bard of the knight Adina... Lover of Jaskier."  dripping off her tongue like the venom of Nogia, was the tone of jealousy. "Lover.. ay you move on quickly," he smirked. "Adina as in of Abbinshire.." he then asked his attention back on the woman in front of him. She nodded as she attended to her drink.

 "What about it.."   

"My true mother was from Abbinshire."

"Well, I'll be damned.." Adina smirked, looking up at Geralt.

"What's wrong?" 

"All that blood looks good on you." she snickered, "Might even say it brings out your eyes.." Adina laughed, tossing her dress over her head while Geralt only looked away sheepishly. "Gods, Geralt, you and I were just in the bath the other night." she then turned to look at him, her honey skin turning a bit red from the sun beaming on her back, high lighting the scars that he now found so beautiful on her. "You're still a princess.." he said, watching her bask in the waters of the lake. 

"With a bounty on my head!" she exclaimed, "There's a big difference." her light eyes focused on Geralt. Taking him by the hand, she had begun to caress the calloused skin of his fingers and the smooth sensation it gave her. She decided to pull a prank on the witcher, something that she had learned from Flora.  

"Do you trust me.."  

"You're still around, aren't you..." he looked down at the barely clothed woman.

"Yes, but do you trust me," she asked again, holding onto his arm.

"What are you up to,"  laughing her head off was Adina, who had swum faster than any siren to get away from the white wolf.  "I'm going to kill you for that." Geralt laughed. He loved it when Adina would show him sides of her that she once used to tuck away so deep. 

"Try to find which one is me first."  she joked, as multiple versions of her fled the lake. Geralt swam to one as the magical illusion only disappeared around him. He then went to another like that one, had faded away. Adina could only laugh, watching the way his eyebrows quirk in concentration, feeling a pair of strong hands wrapped around her waist. Pressed against his chest, she could hear his slow melodic heartbeat that only made her feel more at home than anything else.

 "You're perfect to me no matter what people say.." she said, looking up at him. 

"Scars and all.." he asked, knowing that was many of the things that usually made people afraid of him.

"Scars, fangs, and the big scary horn myths." she giggled, noticing the red in his cheeks. 

"Did Geralt of Rivia blush.."

"No.." he rolled his eyes, "Yes.."  Geralt had loved the position they were in; It was soft and loving and gave him comfort. That was until a Bavel appeared swampy scales and a big tail. 

"Playtimes over.." the two sighed, looking at each other. As the Bavel took Geralt out, Adina's eyes began to glow with a fiery orange resembling a dragon. Fire emerging from her hands, burning the monster to a crisp. She then ran to Geralt, her eyes still glowing orange. Fainting in his arms, Geralt covered her up in a blanket and road back into town. 

"Geralt, your back!" Jaskier said, holding both Florian and Flora in his arms. The three had a long talk in the tavern about their journey and couldn't wait to continue their adventure. "Who's the prince.." Geralt asked, not wanting to be apart of any royal scandal, being that Adina was already one he threaded himself in,

 "Florian... I know of a witch who can help the princess," he said, gesturing to Adina. Adina limp against his chest, barely moved as Geralt only nodded his head, 

"Where is this witch.."  he asked, watching as Flora climbed ontop of Buttercup.

"The outskirts of Vizima.."  he said, "If we leave now, we'll be there by .." 

"An elf nightfall, which is two days," Flora smiled. She then began to catch up with Florian leaving Jaskier with Geralt. 

"You fucked them both, didn't you... "

"Not exactly... I well, yes." Jaskier gushed his face red and neck covered in feverish lusty bruises. 

"You do realize they're twins.." Geralt glared at Jaskier, who could only blink, wondering why they acted so similar and got into many heated arguments.

 "How did you know that.." Geralt only smirked, pulling the reins of Roach hearing the pair argue in the background. Their journey was long, with challenges and a lethargic Adina laying amongst a pile of blankets in a make-shift tent.  

"So what's Rayanetta like.."  Flora asked, sliding closer towards Florian around the campfire. "She's a bit of a paladin.." he swooned, thinking of her soft lips and her short black with her light brown eyes.

 "Youngest sister of 10. " he laughed, "Didn't come from much, but I love her.." he sighed, already missing her the more he talked about her.

 "Tell me what was your mother like.." 

"She was a fighter.." she laughed, "A literal Blue Mountain clan warrior huge in rank." Flora looked down at her feet, "all five siblings were her crown jewels.." she began looking at the diamond carved on her arm, memories parading around in her head, reminding her how little she didn't fit in. "Were you her diamond too?" he asked, noticing she had the same mark just as he did.  "I was her disappointing daughter... I became a bard instead of a warrior, but I can fight.." she then looked at his wrist, 

"You gotta be kidding me.." 

"What.." he asked, a bit confused.

"We're siblings .." she nearly gaged, "worse twins.." the diamond seal on their wrist was usually a sign amongst their clan to mark their siblings, but when they were identical, it usually signaled twins. 

"Kill me..." Florian gagged, remembering the activities of Jaskier and the Tavern. 

Meanwhile, in the tent was Geralt, who was pressing a cold towel on the head of Adina,

 who was in a blistering dragon-like fever. Although Jaskier knew it already, he still had to comment, "You're worried about her..." his blue eyes wide in amazement.  Jaskier had never seen Geralt so attentive and tender to someone else that it practically shocked him.

 "And if I was.."  he replied.

"Then it means.. wait for it ..." he whispered, "You're in love with her," he smirked, handing him over the bucket with water. 

"She'll have someone waiting for her one day.." he sighed, moving her stray hair off her face. "We were just at the ball.. and if you saw her face when she saw you because I saw it and Flora saw it..." he looked at the witcher, "She wanted nothing more than to be surrounded by you." he then smiled. 

"Shit.." he rolled his eyes. 

"Geralt, take it from a man who woos many maidens." he placed his arm around the burly brooding man. "When she looks at you, it's as if she's saying, take me I'm yours."  he winked at him, leaving Geralt to his own thoughts. Sitting there, tending to Adina, made him think of the many times she had patched him back together.  Let alone the countless times they took turns saving each other. 

 "She called me perfect today .."  he laughed, "I don't scare her.." 

"To be honest.. she has fought scarier things than you.." he smiled, "Anyways, I'm going to rest." Continuing their journey towards Vizma was a bit more relaxing, with Jaskier now having two people to talk to and a horse to ride, it left Geralt to his thoughts. Adina had still been mostly asleep, opening her eyes now and then to get a good look as to where they were.  

"This is it.."  Florian said, standing in front of the four-story cottage.

 "Well, that looks absolutely not scary for shit.."  Flora commented, watching Geralt hold onto Adina; she later knew to refrain from her jokes.

"They're early... " 

Tithuba thought to herself, from her window, she saw a  witcher and two bards. "He's brought her back to me.. " the witch nearly said, racing down the endless steps and towards the old door. "I've been expecting you.." the brunette woman said, eyeing Geralt. 

"I don't know if she's sick or if she's.." 

"Just a bit of burn out," Tithuba said, taking Adina out of his arms and laying her across her work table that had a fae wing laying next to the same topaz dragon eye. Flora and Jaskier both hid behind Geralt, the two nearly terrified of the dragon eyed witch. 

"Didn't I curse you.."  she asked, musing over one of her books, turning to watch his expression. Geralt only nodded,

 "Returning to the light, I suppose .."

"Seems you found your ticket.." she mumbled, "By the way, bards." she mused, getting their attention "First room on the left all yours.. you'll be here for a while." Tithuba laughed, watching them scurry as she then began to throw ingredients into her cauldron. "Are you sure you know what you're doing.." Geralt asked, his hands finding their way laced between Adina's. 

"My dear Geralt.. I've healed you just as I can heal my own daughter.." she growled at him. Geralt's eyes widen, looking at the other woman in a bit of confusion. 

"Daughter.." 

"Yes, it took me a while to remember her. I was poisoned and cursed to forget her, but we had that fixed." she shrugged. Adina laid there slowly breathing, her heart rate more abnormal than his own. It was scaring him to the point his palms were sweating, and everyone knew nothing scared witchers. 

 "You care for her, no.." 

"I do," he sighed, "Why do you ask." 

"Your heartbeat is racing the more hers lowers you're attached," Tithuba laughed, her hands reaching out towards the witcher.

 "Witchers don't.." 

"Fall in love .. bullshit, everyone, and thing falls in love." she smiled, "The way you're looking at her shows the fact that you do." she could see the lovesick grin on his face mixed in with fear.

 "But i'm a monster.." 

"What's a monster until you love it?" she asked him, watching him. "I don't understand.."  he looked at the shorter statured woman.  "I'm a dragon mage.. daughter to a powerful witch." she sighed, "Later married to a powerful king.. " she sighed, waving her fingers as a puff of smoke revealed a bit of her past. 

"It's a pleasure to meet you.." Tithuba smiled, her green eyes a glow. Standing in front of her was her soon to be husband, Clarion, who was known to be powerful. He had then turned his back on her and walked away.

"You promised me a son!" he backhanded her, holding the crying child in her arms, "I have one bitch, but you bore me another," he screamed. Tithuba shook her head as the phrase sorry poured from her lips. " I will not have you live like this.." she whispered to the infant. 

"Adina.." 

"That my sweet is a monster." She turned back to Geralt, feeling her fingers move under his own he then turned to look at Adina. "Why do I feel co-"  she turned to look at her gaze between both her mother and her witcher. "You're absolutely naked.." Tithuba laughed, handing her warm clothes. "You two should rest... "  Cuddling into the warmth of Geralt, Adina could only sigh happily. As he placed her on the bed covered by tapestries and fabric, he could only wonder what other surprises were waiting.  

Walking out from behind the dressing divider, Adina stood in front of Geralt in the sheer nightgown Tithuba gave her. Long ringlets of black curls fell to her back. Geralt could only stare in amazement as to what he was looking at, "How do you feel."  He asked, staring her down. 

"Like a dragon in heat."

#the witcher oc #oc #new oc #geralt fanfic #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fandom #jaskier x oc #witches #wizards #new character #fanfiction

[anubislover]

A Primal Need for a Marine (a X Drake x Reader fanfic)

In the past twenty-four hours, your luck had been, quite frankly, abysmal. First, while in pursuit of the infamous pirate X Drake, a storm came out of nowhere, wrecking your ship and nearly killing you, separating you from your captain and crew—assuming they were still alive. Then you spent hours floating on a piece of wreckage, until you finally spotted land and were able to paddle your way to shore. You thought perhaps things were looking better when you heard human voices coming from the jungle, only to discover they were the subordinates of the man your squad had been hunting. Before you could even attempt to parlay, they’d tied your hands behind your back, hoisted you up and carried you to a cave deep in the jungle, unceremoniously dumping you inside and sealing off the entrance, only saying, “The captain will want to see you.”

The inside of the cave was spacious, several lamps providing adequate light to see by, but also casting long, ominous shadows. There appeared to be a massive pile of plush bedding in the back corner, and some animal bones scattered about; a clear sign that something had decided to call it home. You immediately began looking around for a sharp rock or piece of bone to use to cut your bindings, as you had a lot more faith in turning your situation around if you had use of your hands.

“So, you’re the crew’s solution to my problem?” came a voice from deep in the cave. A figure approached slowly from the shadows, long strides powerful and sure with the grace of an apex predator. Nearly eight feet tall, made of pure muscle, and dressed in deep blue leather pants, gloves, thigh-high boots, and open bolero jacket trimmed with white fur, he cut an intimidating figure. His sunset red hair looked like fire in the lamplight, and the shadow cast across his face nearly hid the black domino mask over his piercing blue eyes. The X-shaped scar on his chin and tattoo on his bare chest were painfully familiar.

Now you knew for sure your luck had completely run out. You, a captured Marine, were alone in a cave with X Drake. The pirate your squad had been tasked with arresting and bringing to justice.

The traitor.

His eyes scanned your face, taking you in. “You look familiar.”

“We’ve crossed paths,” you bit out evasively. You really didn’t want him to remember you—at best, you’d be one of the starry-eyed recruits that had admired him back when he was a rear admiral. That innocent crush you’d once had had gotten you in trouble; he’d caught you and a few others watching him train shirtless when you should have been doing chores, and he’d marched you straight to your commander for a humiliating admonishment.

At worst…well, last time your crews had crossed paths, he’d been seconds away from cutting off your captain’s head with his giant axe. Thinking quickly, you’d jumped between them and blocked the blow with your rifle. It would have been extremely cool if it were your prowess that had truly stopped him, and not the way your ripped shirt fluttered in the breeze, giving him an unobstructed view of your bare breasts. He’d gone bright red, and you swore a slight trickle of blood dripped down his nose before he was distracted by an attack from your captain, who’d caught his second wind.

Crossing his beefy arms, he looked down on you, thoroughly unimpressed at your wet, shivering figure. “Your uniform is a mess. Back in my day, to come before a high-ranking officer in such a state would have earned you at least ten lashes.”

“Good thing there aren’t any officers around, then—just traitorous scum,” you countered, voice full of venom.

A ginger eyebrow arched at your cheek, but interest flickered in his eyes. “You’re a member of the squad that’s been chasing us, aren’t you?”

“Oh, have people been chasing you? I can’t imagine why,” you replied sarcastically. Your captain often complained about your attitude, but he’d also preached defiance in the face of death, and you planned on living up to his expectations.

“That’d be another twenty lashes for talking back. Either the Navy’s eased up on disciplinary measures, or you’re a particularly tough one to break.”

“A little from column A, a little from column B.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, and something like approval flashed in his steely gaze. “Do you know why my men brought you here?” he asked, circling you slowly, critical stare sweeping over your kneeling, disheveled form.

“They didn’t bother to fill me in.”

“Since we reached this island I’ve suffered…urges,” he grumbled, frustration lacing his voice. “My more bestial side has been rearing its head, even in my human form, demanding I sate some of its more primal instincts. I’ve hunted and fought and killed, but it’s not enough. It wants to mate.”

A shiver ran down your spine as you finally understood. “And you couldn’t find some nice lady dinosaur to get your rocks off with?”

He actually chuckled lightly as he knelt down behind you, reaching around to untie the kerchief around your neck. “No, those are in short supply. However, a mouthy little Marine should work just fine.” The tips of his gloved fingers trailed across your damp shoulders, down your back to your bound hands. Teasingly, he yanked at the rope that cut into your wrists. “If you’re a good girl and do exactly as I say, you might even survive this. Might. I can’t promise anything.”

“That doesn’t exactly inspire me to comply.”

His hot breath danced across the back of your neck as he whispered, “Then I’ll just have to fuck you into submission.”

You blanched. Of course Drake swore—he was a sailor, pirate, and former Marine. A dirty mouth was practically guaranteed, and even the most formal officer was known to turn the air blue under the right circumstances. But to hear him talk that way, when he was usually so stoic, brought a faint blush to your cheeks that you desperately hoped he couldn’t see. A few years ago, when he was still a rear admiral, you would have given your right arm to be in this position.

Now…well, you wanted to say you were utterly repulsed at the idea, but the spike of heat between your legs would call you a liar.

His hands returned to your front, and you watched as he carefully removed one of his leather gloves. Your heart raced as it morphed into a green-scaled dinosaur claw, wickedly sharp and deadly. Instinctively you flinched away, but Drake’s imposing figure gave you nowhere to go. Carefully, the tip of a curved talon stroked your cheek before sliding down to the collar of your uniform. “Hold still; I’d hate to accidentally slit your throat.” You knew he could do it; you’d seen him rend some of your comrades effortlessly with those ancient talons. Heart in your throat, you did as he said, though your cheeks reddened further when his monstrous claws shredded your shirt and bra into ribbons, leaving your torso completely exposed.

What the hell? you thought frantically. Isn’t he supposed to be weak to a woman’s body? Why would he do that?!

Without ceremony Drake picked you up and placed you on his lap, pressing your bare back to the exposed skin of his chest.

“Wha—!”

Once more gloved and human, large hands slid up your sides to cup your breasts, giving them an experimental squeeze. “You really are such a tiny thing,” he murmured in your ear, hot breath dancing across the sensitive skin as he massaged and fondled you. “So cute and helpless, like a bunny caught in a trap.”

There really was quite the size difference between you, but then again, Drake towered over quite a few people. And good gods, pressed against him like this, feeling his hard pectorals and abdominal muscles flex with every movement, made you feel like a doll, small and breakable in his powerful grip. On top of that, his body exuded heat like a furnace, and had the situation been different, you would have relished it warming your damp flesh, chasing away the chill of the cave.

His nose buried itself in your hair as he inhaled deeply, letting out a low groan as his palms squeezed your breasts hard. “You smell delicious, too. Like fear and sea water and sweet, soft flesh. Like prey.”

“More like bait,” you bluffed, eyes squeezing shut as he ran his teeth across the fragile skin of your neck, latching his hot mouth to your pulse-point and sucking hard. “I—ah!—let myself be captured to distract you. M-my crew’s taking out yours as we speak, and then you’ll be taken into custody, literally caught with your pants down.”

The flat of his tongue stroked the mark he left on your throat. “You had no clue about my…condition, as it were, so there’s no way you could have planned this. Given that storm last night, I’d say it’s more likely your ship capsized, and you washed up on shore, alone and ripe for the taking. No one’s coming to save you, and we’ll be long gone by the time another Marine ship shows up.”

His left hand dropped to press against your stomach, pinning you against him so you couldn’t wiggle free. Still, you made a valiant attempt to break away, twisting and writhing in his lap.

Your efforts were halted when he growled, amusement lacing his voice, “Oh, please, keep struggling like that. Your ass feels amazing against my cock.”

A hot blush painted your face as you realized that you could feel a hard bulge against your backside, and it probably wasn’t a pistol in his pocket. “You’re an absolute bastard,” you cried as his hand shifted to grab your hip, pulling you back to grind against his concealed length.

“What did you expect? I’m a pirate from the Worst Generation. Did you think a man like me would be sweet words and gentle caresses?”

Honestly, you kind of had, given how he seemed so shy around women, even back when you were a recruit. “No—I figured you’d pass out from a nosebleed the second you even touched a pair of tits!” you snapped back.

His right hand abandoned your breast to harshly grip your chin, yanking it up so you hand no choice but to meet his intense blue eyes. They weren’t quite in their more reptilian form, but you could see his pupils were blown wide and the iris had faint specks of yellow. “I remember you, now. You’re the one who flashed me to save your captain.” Blunt teeth caught the shell of your ear, his hot, wet tongue flicking against the delicate flesh. “Bold of you, I have to say. An effective strategy at the time, but I’m only weak to a woman’s body when I’m caught off guard, and definitely not when my Zoan side is impatient to fuck.”

You bit your lip to suppress the small, needy whimper that his tongue nearly coaxed from you. Your ears had always been your most responsive erogenous zone, and his mouth was stimulating it with just the right amount of heat and pressure. When he gave a sharp suck, you couldn’t quite hide your quick intake of breath, though you tried to hide it by renewing your struggles.

Drake didn’t seem to mind as his hips jerked to match your movements, grunting in appreciation. His left hand abandoned your hip to bury itself between your clenched thighs, cupping your hot core through your wet trousers and panties. “Mmmm, I can smell that you’re starting to enjoy this.” The hand at your chin shifted to press two fingers against your plump lips. Scowling, you closed your mouth as tightly as possible. There was an annoyed growl at your resistance, and the heel of his palm ground harshly against your clit, causing you to gasp in shock and outrage.

Taking advantage of your open mouth, he shoved his fingers inside the wet cavern, giving a shallow thrust. Instinctively you bit down on the meaty appendages, but it did little to dissuade him. In fact, he sank his teeth into the side of your throat in retaliation, making you scream in pain around his fingers.

“Bad girl,” he rumbled lowly as his tongue lapped at the sore spot, cleaning up the small drops of blood from where his fangs had broken the skin. “I’ve been restraining myself because I didn’t want to break you too soon, but if you keep misbehaving, you’re going to find out just what kind of animal I can become.”

You winced, finally accepting that you weren’t going to be able to discourage him from using your body how he pleased through resistance. He was a former rear admiral, a hundred times stronger than you, and if you really got on his nerves, he could just turn into his Allosaurus form and eat you.

Sensing he’d broken your resolve, he resumed pumping his fingers into your mouth, the smooth leather of his gloves gliding over your wet tongue. “That’s better. Now suck—unless you’d rather I replace my fingers with my cock and fuck your throat?”  

Swallowing hard, you closed your eyes and focused on sucking his fingers, hoping your skills would be satisfactory. When he gave a pleased grunt you rolled the flat of your tongue against them, imagining it was the hard cock of someone you actually wanted to please and not the traitorous bastard that held you captive. Your cheeks darkened as the fingers at your core curled against your covered slit, pressing into the sensitive flesh as his palm ground against your clit, enticing you to buck against him.

“Look at me, girl. I want you to acknowledge exactly who you’ll be servicing tonight.” His voice was right above you, steamy breath fanning your face. Instinctively your eyes opened, and his mouth stretched into a grin. He chuckled, stroking your nether lips in time to his thrusts, causing heat to coil tighter in your belly.

You were absolutely horrified at your body’s reaction—you couldn’t possibly be feeling pleasure because of X Drake, could you? He was a pirate and a traitor, and he made it clear you were basically only there as his fuck toy! Your crush on him hadn’t been that strong, had it?

Grinding his contained cock against the cleft of your ass, he said, “I know what you’re thinking, and there’s no need to be ashamed—we can’t always control when or how our bodies feel pleasure. A glimpse of bare skin, a touch to just the right spot, a few dirty words—it all involuntarily stimulates us. I used to think that it could be resisted with enough willpower, but after a week of my instincts driving me mad, I’ve realized that everyone has their breaking point.”

With a wet pop, he removed his fingers to stroke down your jaw and throat to once more play with your breasts, this time putting special focus on teasing your nipples. To your dismay, they quickly grew into stiff peaks under his rough pinches and flicks, his thumb circling the hard tips teasingly. “Bet you didn’t think your little flash of chest would result in this, did you?”

When you didn’t answer right away her gave your left breast a harsh squeeze, prompting you to gasp out a weak, “No.”

“Did you get a commendation for your bravery, little girl? A promotion? Or did you reject any praise because you didn’t want to be known as ‘The Tits that Felled X Drake’?”

You whimpered, though mostly in humiliation. He’d hit the nail on the head. You’d been mocked by your shipmates for nearly a month over that, and even though the captain had been grateful, he’d kept your involvement out of his report for that very reason.

“Well, now you’ll get to be ‘The Tits that Fucked X Drake,’” he chuckled, rolling his hips for emphasis. “In fact, that sounds like a great way to start.”

Before you could question him, he pushed you out of his lap to the cave floor, flipping you onto your back. You attempted to sit up, but a large boot rested lightly on your stomach, pressing down just enough to make it clear how easily he could crush your torso. There was no choice but to look up at him, and for a moment you couldn’t help but stare at the prominent bulge between his legs straining against the tight leather of his pants. Blushing, you forced yourself to look further north, landing on Drake’s unusually expressive face, his lips quirked in an amused smirk and a hungry gleam twinkling in his eyes. Your gazes locked as he palmed his belt buckle, undoing the clasp and allowing the long strip of leather to fall to the ground with a clatter. Next, he grabbed the zipper of his tight pants, pulling it down bit by bit, the clicking of metal teeth deafening in the silence of the cave.

As he freed his length, you swallowed nervously. Of course a man his size would have a massive cock to match. At least nine inches long, roughly two inches thick, and perfectly curved, he’d be like something out of a wet dream if the circumstances hadn’t been so horrible.

“Like what you see, Marine?” he chuckled, giving it a few teasing strokes, running his thumb over the already leaking tip. “Just imagine how it’ll feel inside you.”

His foot vacated your chest so he could straddle your hips, pinning you down with his superior body weight. Blue eyes stared, mesmerized, at the twin peaks of flesh before him. Your chest was flushed and swollen from his earlier attentions, nipples hard and practically begging for his touch. A pink tongue darted out to wet his lips, then he leaned down, wrapping them around a straining, rosy bud.

“Ah!” you cried, overwhelmed by the heat of his mouth on your sensitive areola.

Your chest was completely at the mercy of his ravenous mouth and tongue. Alternating between sharp sucks and soothing licks, his attentions sent sparks through the soft mounds of flesh, making you arch further into his mouth, your body wordlessly begging him for more. He eagerly complied, and you were ashamed at the surge of moisture that pooled between your thighs when he brought his teeth into the mix, shallow bites and taunting scrapes of his incisors both frightening and thrilling you.

Trailing his mouth down the silky peaks, he lavished the valley between your breasts with long, slick strokes of his tongue. Your nipples weren’t abandoned for long, however, as his hands returned, the leather deliciously smooth in contrast to the sharp pinches to your straining buds.

This time, you couldn’t quite suppress the little sighs and whimpers that bubbled up in your throat as his arousing actions. For all that the situation demanded you resist, Drake played your body like a harp, strumming your taut strings of desire and producing a symphony of lustful sounds.

Finally, he leaned back, critically studying the wet trail between your tits before nodding to himself in approval. He lifted himself from your lap to straddle your ribcage, resting his straining cock in your cleavage and pressing your swollen mounds of flesh around it for extra stimulation.

“Brace yourself, dear—I’ve been dreaming about this since you first flashed me.”

There really wasn’t much you could do to brace yourself with your hands tied and back pinned to the ground, but you lifted your knees and planted your feet as best you could, praying that the stone floor wouldn’t tear up your skin too badly. His grip on your breasts was harsh, squeezing them together so tightly you were sure he’d leave finger-shaped bruises behind. Each thrust rocked your entire body, his long cock peeking out from between your breasts to brush your chin. Blue eyes fixated on the drops of precum left behind, and you watched his pupils dilate until his irises were nearly overtaken by the black.

“Imagine if your superiors could see you now,” he panted, a few drops of sweat trailing down his temple. “Helpless, at the mercy of a pirate, being used as a fuck toy and loving it.”

“I’m not—” your whimpered denial was cut off by a particularly brutal thrust and a massive hand yanking your hair.

“I told you that I could smell your arousal, little one. Lie to me again and I’ll hand you over to my men to have a turn with that cute body of yours. Now open your mouth.”

Being used by one horny pirate was bad enough, and your luck had been so awful you dared not call his bluff. Instead, you silently obeyed, parting your lips as he released your hair to continue tit-fucking you. If his erratic thrusts were any indication, he was close to climaxing, which meant it was nearly over. Closing your eyes and taking as deep a breath as you could with the massive man straddling your chest, you forcefully pushed down the disappointment that the fire he’d stoked between your thighs wouldn’t be sated.

With a sound that was somewhere between a grunt and a shout he came all over your face, his hot, sticky seed splattering across your chin and lips, but mostly shooting inside your waiting mouth. Salty and thick, you had to swallow several times to get it all down.

Panting and wiping the sweat from his brow, Drake leaned back to study you, grinning at the drops of cum that dappled your cheeks.

“Aren’t you a sight?” he purred, wiping a sticky glob off with his finger and painting it across your lips. “I’m glad I started with tit-fucking you instead of finishing.”

Your eyes widened in horror, even as your cunt clenched in anticipation. “You…you’re not finished?”

The tips of his fingers stroked his still-hard cock. “Do I look finished? If this problem were solved by a single orgasm, I would have just jerked off and been done with it. No, I need to properly mate, and even then I doubt I’ll be sated until I’ve fucked us both unconscious.”

If the way he’d used your chest was any indication, it wouldn’t be hard for him to knock you out, and once he had his fun, what did he plan to do? Ransom you? Interrogate you? Kill you? Behind your back, your nails dug into your palms, wishing your hands were free so you had a better chance of escaping.

Eyes capturing yours, he raised his left hand to his lips, white teeth catching the leather encasing the middle finger, pulling slowly to expose pale skin and thick, calloused digits. “I wonder if you can even take me,” he murmured, more to himself than you as he pulled of the other glove. “You’re such a little thing…”

You seriously doubted you could. He was twice the girth of any man you’d ever slept with, and long enough that you were positive he’d wreck your insides if he bottomed out. The fact that he was still hard even after already cumming indicated his stamina was nothing to scoff at, either.

You were, figuratively and quite literally, fucked.

Removing himself from your torso, he crawled down to your legs, hooking his now bare fingers into your waistband to slowly peel your trousers from your legs. You tried to kick at him, to fight back and wiggle away, but he grabbed your thigh, nails digging into your skin in warning.

“Behave, girl,” he growled, eyes flashing with something fierce and primal as he ripped off your panties, nostrils flaring as he caught the undiluted scent of your womanhood.

“Please, let me go,” you tried to reason. Drake was a traitor and a pirate, but surely he hadn’t lost all of his honor? “You’re not the kind to take an unwilling woman, right?”

“But you’re not unwilling,” he chuckled, leaning in to lap up your juices with a long, luscious stroke of his tongue. Your back arched at the delicious sensation, cheeks flushing and toes curling as the coil of arousal deep inside you tightened. “You’re impossibly wet. You smell like a bitch in heat, waiting to be mounted by a worthy male. You’re aching for me, aren’t you?” he growled before nipping at your sensitive nether lips.

Head shaking in denial, you closed your eyes in hopes of blocking out the overwhelming pleasure the sweeps of his hot tongue brought you. That only made it worse, though; your body’s sense of touch heightened, making your empty cavern ache to be filled.

For his part, being so close to the source of your womanly scent was driving Drake’s beastly instincts wild as he feasted on your arousal, your cream thickly coating his tongue and dripping down his prominent chin. The flexible appendage delved deep, teasing your inner walls as his fingers tightly clutched the meat of your ass, lifting your hips so he could get a better angle. It was when his nose brushed your clit, though, that you finally unleashed a lustful cry, hips bucking, unconsciously chasing that intense spark of pleasure that rocked your entire body.

“Ah, that’s more like it,” he purred as he pulled away, licking at the juices that coated his lips. “I can’t wait to hear what other noises you’ll make.”

He turned his attention to your swollen pearl, teasing it with the tip of his tongue while one of his long, thick fingers leisurely penetrated your molten core up to the knuckle. “You’re going to be a tight fit, but that just makes it all the better,” he groaned, deep voice practically reverberating through you.

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip as you felt your inner walls clench around his finger. It was nearly as wide as two of your own, hot and wonderfully rough, massaging the sensitive tissue of your core.

As he experimentally began pumping his finger in and out, his tongue flicked your sweet little bundle of nerves, chuckling at the strained sounds that slipped from your lips. He dragged the calloused tip along the top of your passage, licking and teasing your sensitive nub.

After a minute or so, pleased at how wet you were for him, he forced in a second finger, curling the pair against your G-spot while suckling your clit when you let out a whine of discomfort.

“Just relax,” he murmured, dropping a brief kiss to your thigh as if in apology while he scissored his fingers, stretching your tight hole. “If you’re too tense to take my fingers, how can you hope to handle my cock? Take a deep breath and relax.”

You wanted to argue that there was no way you could relax when you were being molested by a filthy pirate, that you didn’t want to take his cock, but then his lips wrapped around your throbbing clit and sucked hard, and your mind went blank as you were momentarily overwhelmed by white-hot pleasure.

“That’s it,” he rasped, lips barely pulling away long enough to speak before diving back in, sucking in time to the thrust and curl of his digits, coaxing your hips to match his rhythm.

Against all decency and logic, your walls clenched around him as your body sang, coil of pleasure winding tighter and tighter in your belly with every heady bend and eager suck.

Just when you thought you might reach that peak and finally climax, Drake completely stopped. You whined, bucking your hips in hope of taking your own pleasure from the slick fingers that rested motionless inside you, but his free hand grabbed your hip in a bruising grip. Sluggishly, you opened your eyes, meeting his intense gaze as he gave you a feral smile.

“Beg me to let you cum.”

Despite your flushed cheeks, humming nerves, and aching cunt, you refused to give him that victory. You may be his prisoner and a slave to his desires, but you wouldn’t beg. Steeling yourself for whatever he had planned, you defiantly shook your head, provoking a low, menacing chuckle.

“I was being nice, little one. I don’t have to give you pleasure at all—I could just flip you over and start fucking you. Are you denying yourself out of pride? Think you’ll get a moral victory by refusing to give in to your urges like I am? You think your will’s stronger than mine?” he snarled, suddenly angry. Your heart sped up as you realized you’d unconsciously touched a nerve—X Drake was famous for his composure since his days in the Navy. He was a man who strove to be in control of his emotions; to not give in to vices like lust or anger like his father had. That his Devil Fruit had driven him to this was a testament to how frustrated he was, how powerful the urges were, and how insulting it was to think that you could hold out when he couldn’t.

His hand started moving again, brutally ramming inside you as his fingers slammed against your G-spot with every stroke. “If you won’t beg me to let you cum, then I’ll just make you cum. I was giving you a choice. Something you’re never going to have again.” His mouth latched onto your clit, sucking hard, overwhelming you with sensation as his fingers continued to piston in and out. Captive to his touches and powerless to do anything but lay there and feel, your mouth let out little wordless cries, and even you couldn’t tell if they were meant to be denial or encouragement. It was when he started humming, sending sweet vibrations straight into your throbbing clit, that you finally felt your climax hit, pleasure shooting through you like liquid lightning, your walls clenching around his digits while your back arched.

The second he felt you spasm around his fingers Drake pulled away, grabbing your hips and refusing to let you ride out your orgasm, watching you writhe hopelessly under him.

“That’s enough foreplay,” he rumbled, tossing you over his shoulder and carrying you over to what could only be described as a nest of pillows, blankets, and other bedding. It made for a soft landing when he tossed you down, flipping you onto your stomach. To your surprise, you felt his fingers at your wrists, and the harsh rope tying your hands behind your back fell away. “It’s time we got to the main event.”

Wincing at the awful pins and needles travelling up your newly freed arms, you managed to brace yourself on your elbows and look up at him over your shoulder. His eyes had turned fully yellow and dangerously reptilian, and his ravenous gaze was fixated solely on you as he peeled off his leather bolero. You could feel his eyes caressing the smooth expanse of your back, your pert ass, quivering legs, and flushed face like you were a feast laid out just for him. His attention dropped briefly to his thigh-high boots, bending down to remove them, and you grasped at your chance, clumsily darting to your feet and attempting to make a run for it while he was distracted.

You didn’t even make it out of the nest before a beefy arm wrapped around your waist, swinging you up into the air before slamming you down into the bedding. The soft blankets and pillows prevented any injury, but the air was knocked out of your lungs, rendering your immobile while you struggled to regain your breath.

“At any other time I’d commend you for not giving up the fight, but right now all you’re doing is making this harder than it needs to be,” he growled as he rolled you back onto your stomach, prying your thighs apart so he could settle between them and elevating your hips with a pillow. One hand seized your right wrist, pinning it behind your back while the other grasped the back of your neck, pressing just hard enough to ensure you wouldn’t even dream of moving. Like this, he had full control, completely dominant and ready to claim his prize.

The hot tip of his erection teased your dripping entrance, and you let out an involuntary whimper. “Please…” You weren’t even entirely sure what you were begging for. Sure, you’d just tried to escape, but had you really thought you’d get away? Had you really wanted to, with your core aching to be filled? Or had you just wanted to see just how far you could push him?

“I warned you,” he growled. “Let’s see how much of me you can take. And just so you know, I will be cumming inside you. Every. Fucking. Time.” With deliberate slowness he pushed his stiff, throbbing cock into your tight, wet sex. Inch by inch he filled you, penetrating your womb as he finally bottomed out.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he said with a deep, relieved groan, stilling his hips to savor your walls clenching him. “Such a tight little cunt. Here I was wondering if I’d split you in half, but you took me like a champ. Like you were made for me,” he finished with a possessive, rumbling growl, slowly rolling his hips back before plunging back in.

Your free hand clawed at the bedding beneath you, caught between pain and pleasure. He was stretching you to the breaking point, slamming against your cunt like a battering ram, speed increasing with every rotation of his hips. At the same time, each thrust hit that magic spot inside you, and you were already so sensitive from your earlier orgasm, you couldn’t help but let out helpless little mewls as you squeezed him tightly. Pinned beneath him like this, helpless as his rough treatment stoked a fire in your belly, you wondered if, should you survive this, you’d ever be able to lay with another man again.

Hips snapping against your backside, the sharp slap of skin on skin echoed through the cave, accompanied by your needy cries and Drake’s terse grunts.

The hand pressing down on your neck tightened slightly as he growled, “That’s it, little one; you’re taking my cock so nicely. Should have known you were meant to be a pirate’s whore. It’s probably your dream, isn’t it? To get fucked day and night by a Navy traitor. Well, congratulations, dear; mission accomplished!”

You’d never imagined being degraded like this would get you off, but it was like his words were the catalyst you needed to cum so hard stars filled your vision. Your silken walls desperately milked him as your orgasm and his thrusts rocked your body, screaming his name like it was the only word that mattered anymore.

The sensation of you milking his cock sent Drake over the edge after you. With a nearly inhuman roar his seed filled your womb, hot cum painting your inner walls in thick spurts as he buried himself as deeply into your eager cunt as he could.

For a few moments the two of you just lay there, panting heavily and basking in post-orgasmic bliss. You whimpered a little when he pulled out, strangely mourning the sudden lack of heat and pressure, but soon found his arm wrapped around your waist, hoisting you up so you were vertical and pressed to his chest, legs spread as he lowered you back onto his cock. His free hand played with your breasts as his teeth latched onto your ear, sending shockwaves of pleasure through you.

“Drake~” you moaned, hypersensitive but matching his thrusts as best you could.

“Finally giving in, huh?” he panted in your ear, rutting up into your aching cunt. “I knew you would—you can only deny your instincts for so long.”

Hand encircling your throat, he pressed your head to his shoulder, looking down at you with fierce yellow eyes. “You’re loving this, aren’t you? Getting railed by a pirate’s cock. You greedy little slut. You make a hell of a sight right now—needy juices dripping down your thighs, eyes glazed with pleasure, face covered in my cum.” He leaned down to lick away one of the milky droplets that clung to your cheek. “I should take a picture to send to headquarters; show them what happens to cute little Marines that fall into my clutches.” The hand supporting your waist slid down over your sweat-slicked stomach to the apex of your thighs, mercilessly grinding his thumb against your clit.

You didn’t even try to fight your orgasm this time, letting it wash over you, bouncing on Drake’s cock to draw it out while screaming your throat raw. Sharp teeth latched onto your shoulder as he released, hips snapping up hard as he came.

Drake wasn’t quite done yet, though. Somehow, despite two consecutive orgasms, he was still hard inside you. You mewled helplessly, too worn out to even rock your hips. Sensing you were at your limit, he pushed you back onto your stomach, hoisted up your hips, and proceeded to fuck you into the mattress.

Covered in sweat, stretched to your limit, limbs weak, overstimulated and hypertensive, all you could do was lay there, ass in the air as Drake continued to pump his massive cock into your twitching hole. However, the pathetic sounds of pleasure that you let out at every snap of his hips seemed to egg him on, and before long he slammed himself inside you with a penultimate, animalistic groan, emptying the last of his hot seed inside you.

At last sated, he removed you from his softening cock to wrap you up in a loose blanket before laying down beside you.

“Mmmm, can’t wait to do this again tomorrow.”

“To-tomorrow?” you gasped, forcing yourself to stay awake even as exhaustion darkened the corners of your vision and your limbs grew heavy and lethargic.

“I was eager to fuck you and rid myself of these damned urges, but now, I think I rather like them. I haven’t felt this relaxed in years.” Muscular arms engulfed you as he pulled you to his warm chest. Glancing up, you could see his eyes had returned to their normal, intense shade of blue. He purred, “And for such a little thing, you’re surprisingly durable. I’d be a fool to give you up. When my crew and I leave this island, you’re coming with us.”

“I can’t…”

“Your squad’s most likely dead, and the survivors would be trapped here until another ship stumbles across them. Even if they all lived, they couldn’t stop me from carrying you off.” His thick fingers combed through your hair, not caring that they were still damp and sticky with your juices. “You can’t go back to the Navy, anyway; the anti-fraternization laws are rather draconian, and if you don’t get court-martialed just on the off-chance that I could have recruited you as a spy, you’ll be looked down on with disgust and suspicion, passed over for promotions and missions for the rest of your career. Join my crew, and you’ll at least have my men’s respect.”

“I’m not a traitor,” you insisted, even as you buried your head against his chest to hide the tears that threatened to fall. Damn it, he was right—if the Navy found out that you’d been involved with X Drake, even under duress, you’d be branded a pariah and, at best, shuffled to some out-of-the-way base doing paperwork until judgement day.

His large hand cupped your chin, lifting your face so he could press a gentle kiss to your brow. “Then I guess you’ll have to spend your days as my captive and feisty little bed warmer.”

“Better keep me in the brig—otherwise, I might slit your throat in your sleep.”

“You can try, dear, but if I have to tie you up and fuck you into unconsciousness every night to ensure my safety, well, that’s a cross I’m willing to bear.” Tilting your head, he leaned in to whisper in your ear, “I’d advise against killing me, though. If you prove yourself trustworthy, I’ll let you in on why I became a pirate. It’s a fascinating story, and it might just make you realize I’m not as bad as I seem.”

Your brow furrowed. What could he possibly mean by that? You wanted to question him, but the strain of the day was finally catching up to you, making your eyelids heavy. It was even harder to focus with the soft bedding underneath you and Drake’s bare chest keeping you warm.

He chuckled softly as you began to drift off, murmuring, “Get some rest, little one; that’s an order from your captain.”

#x drake #diez x drake #diez drake #one piece x drake #x drake one piece #red flag x drake #one piece reader insert #reader insert #smut fic #shameless smut #not suitable #lemon #One Piece Fanfiction #one piece fanfic #op fanfic #op fanfiction #size difference #size kink #one piece marines #lemon fanfic #one piece lemon #citrus scale #dino daddy drake

[thatonebipotato]

Pills(1)

Story Warnings: Angst, Deceit, Remus, blood, descriptions of pain

Chapter Warnings: Deceit, Remus, detailed descriptions of pain, blood, screaming, uhhh let me know of any more!!

;)

~~~~~

Remus gave a loud yawn, making a show of rubbing his eyes dramatically. A long night in his imagination had made him very tired, and he wanted- no, needed- affection. He wanted comfort, because long nights of getting stressed out sometimes only caused more stress. He frowned, watching Deceit. He was currently making them some breakfast, but that wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t want food, he wanted his snake.

“Remus,” said snake said smoothly, “maybe you should go sleep a little longer, what about that, sweetie?” Sweetie. A lovely name that he had been hearing a lot more recently. Not that he was complaining.

“Yeah, but I’d much rather enjoy the view,” he said slyly, glancing downwards before looking back up to meet the other’s gaze.(ha, gays-)

“Remus, you can look later,” he said, sighing. “You need sleep. I’ll put some food for you into the microwave so you can eat later, ok? Go sleep.”

“Hmph, fine!” He got up out of the chair and yawned again, though he tried his best to suppress it. He stumbled his way down the hall, and past the hall that branched off to his room. He didn’t want to be in his shared room, and the room they’d started preparing for him separately wasn’t finished yet. He wanted his imagination instead. Sure, Dee had told him to sleep, but he’d much rather not. Besides, he could take a nap in the imagination or something, so it was fine!

He reached the entrance to the imagination, and began to feel off. Maybe it was because he was worried about being stressed again, maybe it was something else. But there was something… wrong. About his own imagination. The door seemed to be a lot darker, and more broken than it had before. Welp, that’s what happens when you let monsters run loose around the place!

He threw the door open without a second thought and sighed contently, breathing in the sweet smells of his imagination. Despite what most everyone else thought, his side of the imagination wasn’t that dark, or even that bad. At least, not on the surface. There were many flowers with strong fragrances here and there. Most of those fragrances were different kinds of poisons or hallucinogens. Prolonged exposure to them made Remus entirely immune, and even Deceit was mostly immune to all of them. The sky was a dark gradient of purples and oranges, pinks and reds, and some dark blues, the product of an endless sunset. The sad part about the sky was it was covered in storm clouds, most of the time.

There were trees, and a lot of them. They towered over the land, and were very dark, with patterns in their bark and leaves that resembled animal skulls of all kinds, and had sharp edges. And the beasts. Oh, how Remus loved his pets! There were one eyed things with a large mouth and long claws; there were large things with a million arms and eyes that killed its prey with the thought alone; there were furry creatures that looked innocent enough, but could swallow four blue whales whole and still want more; there were slimy things and scaly things, big and small things, things with claws, and wings, and broken, sharp teeth. Ones that howled, and groaned, and yipped, barked, cried, whined, and spoke. He loved his pets!

He wandered up to two trees, the mud made from the previous rain threatening to make him slip. They were very tall, and rigid. He held out his hands, and several ropes appeared in them, and a large cloth sheet. It was a hammock. He began tying one end to one of the trees, and the other to the second tree. He pulled down one side, and leapt up into the hammock. It rocked under his weight, before settling into a lazy roll.

Today, there weren’t any clouds. The trees blocked out most of his view, but he could still see the soft colours. The smell of sickeningly(quite literally) sweet flowers was mixed in with joyous scent of rain. One tiny little fuzzball leapt from the fronds and onto Remus’s tummy. It purred and curled up, producing a sort of tickly sensation. Remus reached out his hand and started gently petting the thing. It was just as soft as it looked. Most people would be sceptical about this puffball, and they should be. While is was furry, and looked like a very tiny monkey, it had the mouth of a snake. It’s jaw could unhinge, and it was venomous. It attacked anyone that wasn’t Remus or Deceit if they showed any sign of danger, or startled it too much.

Her name was Fred.

Fred yawned lazily, turning over onto her back to allow Remus access to her belly, purring louder when his hand found said spot. Remus slowly traced shapes onto her belly, and smiled. Fred had been staying around Remus remus a lot more, and was a sign that she was expecting. In a world made by Remus, what else did you expect? Well, expect more than they were, currently.

Her tail loosely curled around his wrist, and she dozed off into a quiet slumber. Remus would join soon after, but he didn’t want to. He forced himself to stay up until he couldn’t. His eyes felt like they were on fire, and his eyelids weighed down a person being thrown off the dock tied to an anchor. It didn’t help that he had started to itch, a mad burning sensation that crept down his arms and legs, and buried itself into his stomach. For all the pains he’d ever felt, this one was new. Was this supposed to happen? He couldn’t remember.

Just as he was about to drift off, he screamed. The pain immediately flared up, and it hurt. A lot. It felt as though his muscles were being pulled apart one by one, but also at the same time. His joints felt like they were being pressed into burning iron, and the heat never once died down. His skin grew extremely cold, and hurt against the burning of everything else. He kicked and thrashed and screamed and cried, falling off of the hammock and into the mud. He writhed around, and if anyone saw him, they would’ve thought he was having a seizure of some sort.

By this point, Fred was up and about, having been startled so horribly from her nap. She was still on the hammock, and was screeching at Remus with confusion written across her tiny face. The danger was coming from him, but he was also the one in danger. She didn’t know how, she just knew that he was.

Remus curled into a ball, still screaming. He’d managed to control himself from hitting everything around him, but he was still in pain. Why was he in pain? What was happening? Why wouldn’t it stop already? Was it happening to the others? Was this happening to Dee?!

His eyes, which had previously been squeezed close, shot open. Oh God, was this happening to Deceit?! He forced himself onto his hands and knees, even though he was in agony. His attempts to stand kept failing, and he kept falling back onto his knees, so he decided he would just crawl out instead.

The screeching had stopped, Fred was gone. Where she had gone, he didn’t know, but he didn’t want to care right now. He had to check on Dee.

There were suddenly arms under his own. He started hurting more due to pressure being put onto him, but that didn’t matter. Whatever had grabbed him was moving closer to the door. That’s all he needed.

The thing gently placed him back onto the cold, wet ground, and lowered Fred onto him. She had gone to get help! She made sure to jump off of him as soon as possible, and started working on opening the door. Once she got it to click open, she pushed it wide enough for Remus to crawl through, and sat waiting for him to pass through.

He started crying more, having to pick himself back up and out the door, which closed behind him as soon as he was out. He heard sobbing coming from down the hall, and forced himself up, leaning onto the wall. In this moment, he wanted to die more than ever. But he couldn't He had to check on his snake, dammit!

It took a long time, but he finally made it to the last stretch. It was just a crawl from here to get to his hurt Double Dee and make sure he was ok. The second that his own struggles had made a noise in the mostly quiet living space, the sobbing softened.

“R-Remus? Is-is that you?” His voice was broken and quiet.

“Y-” Remus got cut off by a coughing fit, which only made him feel worse, if that was even possible. When he finally stopped, he looked down to see blood on the floor, and some gloved hands by his face, that were also covered in blood. He had to physically restrain himself from screaming when the hands softly cupped his face. He finally looked up, and, though he felt like he was burning at the stake, felt his blood run cold.

Deceit had blood on his chin and staining his clothes. There were tears in his eyes, and he looked white as a sheet. His scales, while normally a vibrant greenish-yellow, looked grey, and his eye was tinged blue. Which was weird, because he wasn’t close to shedding.

“D-Dee Dee, what happened?” he forced out. His own voice was raspy and scratchy from him screaming, and it felt like he was being choked when he spoke, and not in the good way.

“I don’t- I don’t know,” Deceit admitted. His teeth were also stained red. “I think something’s w-wrong, but I just… Remus, everything’s r-really cold.” He looked close to fainting.

“Dee, take- take me to the couch. Now.”

Deceit didn’t question it. He just threw his arms around Remus’s shoulders and supported him as they walked to the couch, slowly. When they got there, and Deceit had set Remus down, Remus knew he would regret what he was doing.

He grabbed Deceit’s hand quickly, and pulled him down onto him with maybe too much force. Yep, he regretted it. The pressure felt like he’d been hit in the chest with a fast paced, rolling boulder. He didn’t say anything as he wrapped his arms around the others chest and held him tightly. Deceit went to protest, but then melted into the touch.

“You’re so warm,” he muttered, burying his face into Remus’s neck.

The second Deceit’s skin touched his, he squeaked.

“Wow, and you’re- you’re really cold!” Deceit was somehow even colder than Remus was. The pain slowly melted away, as it was like an ice pack was pressed into him, but it slowly returned as Deceit heated up. By the time that happened, it was too late to get Dee to move or get him an ice pack or something, because the snek was asleep. He was softly snoring, and looked so peaceful like that, despite the fact that he was bloody and actively causing discomfort.

Remus sighed, and decided the pain was absolutely worth it. He would give his life for Dee, and though he wasn’t dying now, this was the best thing he could do.

Though he was in pain, he forced himself to close his eyes. Soon enough, it started to ease up, and Remus was finally asleep. The breakfast the Deceit had been making was forgotten on the counter, and aside from the snoring from the two Dark Sides, it was silent.

This. This was peaceful. This is how the both wanted it from now on, at least for a little longer.

But that was only the first pill.

~~~~~

:DDDDD

Sorry for any mistakes I made, I didn't really go back and check for any, lol

Taglist: @fatesail @supersoftsupersleep @thesoftestpuffballwegot @chronophobica (two of you guys did show up? I?? Sorry???)

#ts remus sanders #remus sanders #ts deceit sanders #janus sanders #tw blood #tw pain #sanders sides #ts sides #tssides #thatsthat24

[saelwen]

The Last Dragon

Daenys Targaryen x Thranduil

Crossover: Game of Thrones and LOTR/Hobbit

Chapter4

Masterlist

Summary:After Daenerys death, her daughter Daenys, flew away with Drogon. Feeling lost with out her mother beside her, but what will happen when Daenys find a portal that will lead her to a certain world, where dwell elves, dwarves, humans and other races.

Warnigs: None

Words:2k

We follow the eagles for a while, during the trip Drogon always flew high in the air, for the dwarfs not see us yet. After two hours of flying, the eagles land on a giant rock, letting the dwarfs and hobbit climb down of they back. Oh God...this is it! I hope they don’t faint. I look back to Gandalf “Are you sure about this?” I ask with worried voice, he took a deep breath “Yes...it’s the only way that they can reclaim the lonely mountain.” I nod and order Drogon to land in front of them.

As Drogon was landing, I could hear the dwarfs screaming and yell to prepare to fight. Oh boy, this is going to be good...Drogon roars to them, making them shaking on they boots. Gandalf climb off from Drogon and walk to the dwarfs “Calm down, boys! Everything it’s okay!” he warns them. Thorin jumps in front of the group with rage on his eyes “What is this, Gandalf?! You infiltrate a spy of the Dark Lord?!” he growls, Gandalf sighs “She is not a spy of Dark Lord, Thorin Oakenshield! She is here to help you reclaim Erebor and you will need her and Drogon helps!” he says firmly to the stubborn dwarf. I stay on Drogon back all the time, hearing the two arguing, all the sudden I notice Bilbo walking slowly to Drogon, looking to him in awe. He lifts his hand, trying to pet the dragon snout. I order Drogon to low his head and let Bilbo pet him, a small smile forms on the hobbit face when his hand touch the warm scales “Wow...He’s so warm...” he whispers, almost to himself.  

Suddenly Bilbo was pull off the dragon by Dwalin “Don’t touch that beast, Bilbo! He might eat your hand!” he says a while looking to me with disgust in his eyes, my blood start boiling as I heard the word ‘Beast’ “Do not call him beast, dwarf! He is my family!” I growl to him, a while Drogon begin growling to the company as he feels my anger rise inside me. Thorin pick his sword “Calm this beast right now! I should have known that you didn’t seem right...your name..your appearance..the way you fight! I should have said no when you enter Bilbo house!” he growls to me with venom on his words. Gandalf looks to me with worried eyes, I look down to my hands, feeling hurt by his words “Go back to your cave, you beasts! You are no longer on this quest!...Leave now, you dragon banger!” with those words, a wave of anger and rage run through me “DO NOT TALK TO ME LIKE THAT! YOU FILTHY DWARF!” I yell to him. Thorin froze with my words, he looks up to me with rage in his eyes, burning with blazing fire.  

He grabs tightly the handle of his sword and charge to me and Drogon, lifting his sword high in the air to try stab Drogon. The company begin yelling for him to stop and Gandalf try to grab him but as Thorin came closer of Drogon, he was push back with the force of Drogon roar. The dwarfs grab Thorin arms and pull him to them, then he looks to me with hate “I don’t want to see you in front of me never again!” with that he and the company begin to leave, walking towards Erebor. Bilbo meet my gaze and gave me a sad smile, Gandalf walk to me “Don’t listen to him. That dwarf head is hard as a stone. He will accept you...don’t worry.” I nod and try to clean some tears that had fall down my cheeks, “I know...but it hurts. Everyone I know is afraid of me and ...of my house. I’m tired of to be a frighten person...” Gandalf sighs “You aren’t a frighten person, Daenys. People only fear the things that they don’t understand...Give time to the dwarfs. Fly in the direction of that forest, there you will find a skin changer, Beorn. He will help you.” I nod but look at him confused “But what about the quest? Am I really out of the group?” I ask worried “No, you are not. We will meet you there with the skin changer. Now go!” with that I order Drogon to fly us there. I look down as I pass by the dwarfs, who look up to me with a shocked look. Ahhh....That didn’t go well as I thought...

                                       ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After sometime of flying, I see a cabin with some animals there. Drogon lands in front of the cabin and as I was climbing down, a huge man walks out from the house. He was wearing some old clothes, with some holes and dirt on them. His face was almost all cover with hair, I took a step forward, not very far from Drogon “Are you Beorn?” I ask, he nods “Yes...and you are Daenys Targaryen, Gandalf send me a message talking about you. Come in...your friend can hide on a cave not far from here.” I nod and thank him. I turn to Drogon “Go hide in the cave, my friend. I will find when it’s time to go.” I say to him a while petting his warm scales. Then I walk to the cabin, following Beorn.  

Inside the cabin, there were a bunch of animals, cows, goats, some horses and other animals. Beorn led me to a wood table and serve me some hot milk “Here..Drink, it will help you relax.” I grab the cup and start drinking. As I was drinking, I notice on his wrist a metal chain and some scars along his arms. Looking down to my cup, I try to not look to them, knowing that will cause him feel uncomfortable “Thank you for your hospitality. You are very kind, sir.” I say with a warm smile on my lips, he nods and walk to the front door “Your welcome...you can rest on the straw over there...Also don’t come out of the house at night, it’s dangerous.” with that he leaves the house. A sigh falls from my lips, I hope the company was okay! Even if they all hate me, I still worry about them.

Putting the cup on the table, I walk to the pile of straw beside of the goats, petting one on the head, I lie down, feeling my body melt. Closing my eyes, I let sleep take over me, leading me to the realm of dreams.

                                         ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Days have pass and there wasn’t any sight of the company. I spend my days helping Beorn with the farm work, cleaning the stalls, feeding the animals, letting them go outside during the day. It was a peaceful life here, a life that I would love have in here.  

Beorn was patrolling around the forest, since he smelled the orc pack near. I was giving some carrots to the horses inside the cabin, as all the sudden the front door busted open and the company runs inside. I run to them and saw a large bear head trying to come in but the dwarfs shut the door. They all were catching they breaths that they didn’t notice me standing there, Thorin look to Gandalf “What was that?!” Gandalf supported himself on his staff “That, Thorin Oakenshield, was our host!” everyone looks to each other with a fear on they eyes. I took a step forward, grabbing the company attention “Daenys!!” Bilbo jumps into my arms, hugging me warmly “Hello, Mister Baggins.” I say a while wrapping my arms around him “What is she doing here??” Thorin voice sounded beside me. I lift my gaze from Bilbo and meet his “Thorin...she is not banned of the company. Daenys will come with us even if you like it or not! Now everyone go rest.” Gandalf said firmly to Thorin, then walks to me “It’s good to see you, my child.” he gave me a kiss on my forehead and went sit on a chair.  

The sound of people talking and the animals eating straw woke me up from my lovely sleep, siting up I saw the company on the table eating and Beorn serving them some milk. As I try to stand up, an arm grabs my waist tightly, looking down I saw Bilbo sleeping soundly beside me. A smile forms on my lips, he’s so pure I think to myself. I start shaking him “Bilbo...Bilbo, it’s time to wake up.” I said softly to him, his eyes fluttered open and rub them with his fist “Good morning, Daenys.” he said a while yawning.  

I stand up “Good Morning, Bilbo! Come...Let’s eat something before the dwarfs eat all of it.” I offer my hand to help him up and walk to the table, sitting beside Kili and Fili. Everyone at the table stop talking as them see me, in the corner of my eye I saw Thorin walk away with Dwalin following close behind. I sigh and start eating, ignoring the stares of the dwarfs.

After we were finish, we go outside where ponies and two horses were ready for us “You can take them but set them when you arrive to Greenwood.” Beorn says then he looks to me “Goodbye, little dragon. Remember that you always have a home here.” I smile and hug him tighly “Thank you, Beorn. One day I will take you for a fly.” I joke with them “You should know that a bear is always on the ground.” he said a while ruffling my hair.  

I walk to my horse as the company were waiting for me, as I mount my horse, I heard Drogon roar, looking up I saw him flying around in the air, waiting for us to start moving. Thorin grumbles something under his breath and start trotting, I roll my eyes and order my horse to walk forward.

                                            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rubbing my eyes, I took a deep breath trying to calm myself “Are we going the right way?” “We are walking in circles!” “I don’t feel so good...” everyone was starting panic. Since we have walk inside the elvish forest, that I don’t have been feeling good. This forest was sick and darkness was killing it, I could feel eyes watching us. A sigh escapes from me, why did you have to leave Gandalf? Now we are lost in this haunted forest. I look around trying to find Bilbo but I didn’t see him anywhere “Wait! Where is Bilbo?” I ask a while a look around but the dwarfs didn’t hear and continue walking. Fuck! Where are you Bilbo?  

Suddenly giant spiders jump from everywhere, attacking us. I grab my daggers and start slashing spider after spider “What the hell is those things?” I ask to Fili, who was also killing spiders, “I don’t know! Can you order your beast to burn those things?” I roll my eyes and continue killing spiders.

As I finish killing one of those creatures, an arrow passes right beside my head, killing a spider behind me. I look up and saw a group of elves killing every single spider around us, I stay still in awe watching them move with such grace, like they were feathers flowing around the air.  

When they finish killing every spider, they walk to us, aiming they arrows to us “Why a group of dwarfs and a female human are in our forest?” an elf with blood hair speak to Thorin “Mind you own business, elf!” he growls to the blood elf, that I think was the leader of the group. The elf rolls his eyes and order to take our weapons, when his gaze met my mine, his body froze. He stays looking at me with a curious look “Where are you from, my lady?” he asked, I look down to Thorin, warning him to not speak about Drogon, “I’m from near the Shire, sir.” I answer him with a calm voice, he nods and looks to the rest of the group “Let’s take them to the King!” he put me and the rest of the company in handcuffs and lead us to the Palace.

After a long walk, we arrive to the Palace. A small gasp fall from my lips as I saw the inside the Palace, it was beautiful! Never in my life I saw a Palace or a castle like this, it was like was build inside a big tree. There is roots and trees everywhere, a big river flows inside the Palace, making a lovely sound. My thoughts were interrupted the blood elf order to take the rest of the company to the dungeons, a while he takes me and Thorin to the King. Nerves begin rise inside, hopping that this would go well and Thorin would not do something stupid.

We enter the Throne room and my breath was taken away from me as I see the person sitting on the Throne. He was with on leg on top the other, slightly shaking his foot. His hair was silver, almost like mine and his eyes were the lightest blue color I ever seen, looking like the blue sky in a cool winter afternoon. His features were sharp, looking almost like a cat. He was gorgeous!

He looks to Thorin when the blood elf presented us “Those are the ones that we found in the forest, adar!” adar? Ohh so he is the Prince...”Why Thorin Oakenshield was in my forest, can I ask?” the king begin walk down the stairs slowly “None of your business!” oh boy...This is going down! The king stops in front of us and look at me, analyzing me from top to bottom “And who is this beauty?” he ask softly, a blush begin spreading on my cheeks “My name is Daenys Targaryen, my King!” I spoke shyly, a while playing with my hands. He stays quiet looking directly to my eyes, like he was trying to find some lie “Very well...I will talk to you later, my Lady! Take her to my guest room!” wait, what!? I look to Thorin with a confused face but he only looks to the King with rage in his eyes. The Prince took away my handcuffs and lead me to my room. Fuck! What’s going on? What will the King do to me?! I took a deep breath and close my eyes, I could feel Drogon near. I sigh as I feel more relax, since Drogon could safe me at any time.

Let’s hope everything would go well and that Gandalf would come safe us.

Hey Guys!! Here new chapter. I hope you are liking this serie and if want to be on taglist, comment down below. Feel free to reblog and tell me what you think!!

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[dragons-ire]

Dragon’s Ire

I feel more than a little ill-used. It all feels so hollow now.

Later, he would regret this exchange. Maybe not saying it, but saying it without restraint. Letting his temper out on someone who didn't deserve it. The dragon that lived in his bones, coiling through his ribcage waking and opening its eyes. When he had spent the last of that particular brand of venom, he watched Lady Eliane flee like someone had lit a fire under her and he couldn't do much more than look at  the table. Brighid smoothed it over, a little, or at least got them moving, but it was still ringing in his ears as the pair of them walked back out into the snow.

Everything I believed and aspired to. 

He had to crawl atop Audthildr's great stinking corpse to get to the scale that was his ticket to knighthood and making something of his life here. Finding his own place.

He sheared it from the dragons body with his broken lance, his fingers bloody and trembling. He hadn't quite felt the grievous wound in his side, but he could feel the one on his face where the dragon's claw had swiped at him. Sticky blood dripping down his chin, matting his hair.

He dropped to the ground near the wyrm's head, the eye still open in death. The brilliant gold of it not unlike the color of his own.

Every day I put my life on the line. Every day I fought and bled and killed for this place

They'd been up on the ramparts of Whitebrim for half a sennight trying to repel the attacks that came out of the Stone Vigil without cease. They were beaten down and exhausted and dropping faster than they should have just because there wasn't time to ret. 

His nerves were too jangled to eat properly, to do anything other than watch the sky and be ready, but as he dropped down into the barracks for a brief respite, someone forced him to sit. Pressed a mug of hot soup into his hands and didn't let him up until he'd at least taken a few sips of it.

Every friend and comrade and civilian I watched die. 

Althena plucked him from death near Falcon's Nest and gave him a place in the order. In return, he watched her die a crippling death from a poisoned wound in the whiteness of the Slate Mountains. Shivering and raving and grasping for the air until he reached to to take her gauntleted hand with his. 

And for what?

Archibaum Lothaire's briliant blue eyes widened in surprise from the impact that had killed him; picked up by a dragon and tossed against a stone wall like a child's toy. Breandan talked about him differently depending on which side of his death it was. An infuriatingly self--righteous noble prick in life; in death, just 'one of the best of us.'. The best in the ways that mattered the most.

For what?

A village near the Lancegate burned out by dragonfire in the night, most of the villagers dead in their beds. The horrible smell of burning flesh and burned wood crawling over the icy ground.

His foot nudged some brittle piece of debris that crumbled away as soon as he found it. Realized what it was as he watched the scorched paper remnant crumble to dust - a crudely cut out Starlight decoration, as if done by a child.

They couldn't always save everyone.

For a lie.

The trip back into the city they made in silence. Foundation was the bustle it had been since the Firmanent reconstruction, but up in the Pillars it was as removed and remote as it had ever been. They paused for an unspoken look at the Last Vigil, then he continued on alone to up the stairs of a house he'd never thought he'd return to. 

Definitely not anywhere he wanted to be.

A lie that made me work twice as hard my whole life because I am lowborn

The servant saw him in and he walked directly down the corridor to a dark room. One single lamp burning on a nightstand, the curtains drawn. A faint medicinal scent hung in the air, the cloying scent of sickness underneath it.

He pulled up a chair to the bedside and took the copy of the Enchiridion off the nightstand. From his position in bed, Enguerrand de Dzemael stirred and opened his eyes. The aging knight looked thin and sallow, his eyes sunken in, sparse patches of grey in his beard. He turned towards Breandan as if looking at a stranger. Registering it a moment later.

"Oh." he gasped, feebly lifting one hand in acknowledgement. "My dear boy"

My dear. The words grated against his nerves like he'd been struck by lightning, but he managed to keep his expression schooled. Eyebrows drawn together in some kind of concern.

"Yes, Father. It's just me."

He opened the holy book to read a passage that was nearly unrecognizable from the editions of his youth, so heavily the Scholasticate had to revise the text in the past year. 

A lie that kept cruel and corrupt men in power.

When his temper was up like that, it felt like the dragon within was fit to burn him to death. Himself and everyone around him, despite his best efforts to keep it pointed away from people he cared about and towards more productive ends. 

A good reminder that he needed to stay focused and disciplined lest it rule him.

Other times, it was looking down into a deep darkness. Like a cave or a dark ravine. He could throw stones down and listen forever for them to hit bottom. If he jumped or fell in, there were no winds or aether current to guide him to safety. He'd just plummet and keep falling.

Sometimes, it seemed like whatever lived at the bottom might have a voice of its own.

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